your children; but depend upon it, madam, you shall meet with nothing from me, to add to it; and as to play-books and novels, I hope, if they were no way offensive ou a religious account, I could sacrifice them all, to give satisfaction to my mother.

Moth. My dear, can you do so?

[The mother weeps for joy.]

2 Daugh. I'll soon put you out of that doubt, madam, if you'll have patience till I fetch them.

[She runs up stairs to her closet.]

Moth. Well, how said my husband to me, that if we be gan this work heartily, it would perhaps be blessed and succeeded from above, beyond our expectation! how does this dear child close cheerfully with the very first motion of a reformation! Who knows, but God in time will mollify the obstinacy of her sister! This shall, however, encourage me to go on with my work; to continue instructing and exhorting her, and not despair of a blessing, though the difficulties, by reason of a long delay and neglect, have been doubled upon me.

[The daughter returns with a servant, and their laps both full of songs, plays, novels, romances, and such like stuff, and throws them down on the table.]

2 Daugh. Here, madam, is the willingest sacrifice I ever made in my life.

Moth. And do you do this freely, my dear?

2 Daugh. With more pleasure, madam, than ever I read them; and I resolve them to the fire.

Moth. I think, my dear, thou art the only qualified person to be trusted with them; because, if there be any such thing as good in them, which I will not say there is, thou alone art able to pick it out, without touching, or being tainted with the bad, of tasting what has any relish, without being soiled with the dirt, or infected with the disease of the other.

2 Daugh. Well, madam, but were I so capable, I am not above being enticed; and, besides, other of my bro

thers and sisters may make my example their rule, or may claim to use them, though in my possession. I had rather have them follow my sister's, and therefore make it my desire, madam, in order to put an argument into your mouth, from my example, that I may put them all into the fire with my own hand.

[She throws them in.]

Moth. The blessing of thy father and mother be upon thee, my dear child. Thou hast made my heart rejoice, that was almost sunk before, for fear lest all my children were irrecoverably lost, by my neglect of their more early instruction.

2 Daugh. My dear mother! I am happier in that blessing, than in all that ever you gave before.

Moth. What wilt thou say, my dear, to thy sister, when she hears of it?

2 Daugh. Nay, madam, what will my sister say to me, when she shall know that I have heard how she used my mother for a few ballads and play-books?

Moth. She will mock and flout thee, my dear.

2 Daugh. Then I'll pity her, madam; for I am sure she is in a worse condition than I. I have your blessing and affection, madam, which I value above all the world; and she has a heap of plays and novels in the room of it.

Moth. My blessing, my dear! Alas, what is that? May He be thy blessing, whose blessing "maketh rich, and addeth no sorrow to it!" If God give thee grace to go on, thou wilt be a blessing to me, rather than I to thee; for I have been the ruin of you all, and have brought you into the danger of being never recalled, for want of instructing you before.

2 Daugh. Dear mother, do not load yourself with that; I hope it is not too late for us to learn now.

Moth. It is very late, my dear, very late; and what would have been easily taught, and easily learned before, will be hard now both ways. I fear, my dear, you do not see what other things are necessary to be done.

2 Daugh. What things are they, madam?

Moth. Why, my dear, on our part, thy father and I, we must set up a family government entirely new;-we must be angry now at what we were pleased at before, and pleased now with what we were angry at before;—what we laughed at, and made a'jest of in our children before, we must now mourn over, and correct them for ;-what we not only allowed to be done, but even did ourselves before, we must forbid now ;-what we accounted pleasant before, must be frightful now;-and what we delighted in before, must be dreadful to us now: in short, every part of our government, or of our children's obedience, must be altered. O the task that I have to go through! O the difficulty of a late reformation in a family!

2 Daugh. I cannot understand what all this mighty change must be, madam, or wherein there will be so much difficulty, sure none of the family can be backward to listen to such directions as you will give them. Will any of brothers or sisters be against being made better, or render your task difficult, when it may be made so easy, and when so much for their own good? I am sure I will not, mother.

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Moth. I know the mortification must be great on your side too, I mean, all of you. It is not an easy thing to bring children off from their levities and pleasures, which are become so natural to them, by a long uninterrupted allowance of their parents and governors; nay, it is not easy for children themselves to bring their humours and inclinations, fancies and passions, off from the pleasures of life, which perhaps they have, as all mine had, an unrestrained enjoyment of. The work is very hard, my dear.

2 Daugh. I believe it will not be half so hard to me to deny myself any, or all those diversions and criminal enjoyments you speak of, mother, as to guide myself to those things which are necessary to be done, or engaged in afterwards. Moth. My dear, a religious conversation is not the easiest thing in the world.

2 Daugh. But I believe it is the pleasantest thing in the world, mother.

Moth. Child, I wonder to hear thee say so, for thou hast never seen any thing of it at home.

2 Daugh. "Tis true, I have not at home, but I have abroad, madam, when you sent me to my aunt's, where you know I was nine or ten weeks. I thought I was in heaven there, to what I was at home; every one there was so sober, so pretty, so grave, so exact, and so regular, and yet so cheerful, so pleasant, so innocently merry, and withal so pious, and so religious, that I thought nothing so happy in my life, nor did I ever spend so many weeks so well in my life,

Moth. Child, your aunt is a Dissenter, you know.

2 Daugh. But, madam, my uncle is a churchman; and let them be what they will, I see no difference in their conversation. They all agree to be a religious, sober, pious family: the children are all under such government, do all things so prettily, and their behaviour is so agreeable, they love one another so entirely, and enjoy one another so perfectly, that I believe they are the pattern of all the town. My uncle every night and morning calls them all together to prayers. My aunt takes all her daughters together once a day, and makes one of them read a chapter, and then she says any thing she finds occasion to say to them, by way of reproof or direction; and I observed, when I went up stairs at night, not one of my cousins would go to bed till they had retired into their closets to their prayers by themselves.

Moth. Poor child! that was a strange way of life to thee, I believe.

2 Daugh. I thought it strange indeed at first; but I was soon able to recollect myself, and was ashamed to let them know that I thought it strange, much less that I did not do so myself.

Moth. Poor child! if thou hadst been taught as well as they, thou wouldst have done so too.

2 Daugh. Indeed, madam, as I was almost left alone, I could not but say my prayers too; and this kind of life began to be so pleasant and agreeable to me, that I never enjoyed myself like it in all my life.

Moth. And didst thou not think thy father's family a kind of hell, when thou camest home again, my dear?

2 Daugh. No, madam, I confess it was odd at first, when, instead of a regular family, I came home to all manner of looseness, and liberty; but it soon began to be natural to me again, and I forgot my good aunt's instructions, ay, and my uncle's too, who used to say a great many good things to me, and gave me a great deal of good advice,

Moth. How seldom is good instruction lost or thrown away! I am persuaded the little good advice they gave thee. was the foundation of that willingness to be governed and reformed which appears in thee now. My blessing on her heart for doing thee so much good!

2 Daugh. I believe it has done me no harm, madam. Moth. How then would good instruction have wrought upon thee, if I had begun it ten or twelve years ago? 2 Daugh. Dear mother, I hope it is not too late. Moth. Well, my dear, how do they spend the Sabbath at your aunt's? Not as we do, I dare say.

2 Daugh. No, indeed, madam, after quite another fashion. The young ladies are obliged to be down stairs half an hour after nine in the morning, ready dressed; then my uncle calls to prayers, and soon after they go all away, either to church or to the meeting-house; but whichsoever it is, they are almost sure to meet together after sermon, sometimes at the very door, and then children and servants, not one stirs from home. In the evening my uncle calls them all together, reads to them in some good book, and then sings psalms, and goes to prayers. When that is over, they go to supper; then they spend an hour perhaps or two in the most innocent and pleasant discourse and conversation imaginable,-it is always about something religious; and then every one retire to their apartment,

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