too. save. more good than a wild plan to put out an imaginary flame which no longer burns. And let me tell you, sir, dreadful as that evil was, God can send his judgments on other sins besides superstition; so it behoves us to take heed of the other extreme, or we may have our earthquakes 'The hand of God is not shortened,' sir, 'that it cannot destroy, any more than it cannot In the meantime, I must repeat it; you and I are rather called upon to serve a neigh bour from perishing in the flames of his house, just under our own window, than to write about the fires of the inquisition; which, if fear, or shame, or the restoration of common sense had not already put out, would have hardly received a check from such poor hands as you and I.' 'Sir,' said Fantom, Jenkins is an impertinent fellow; and I owe him a grudge, because he says he had rather forfeit the favour of the best master in England than work in my garden on a Sunday. And when I ordered him to read the Age of Reason, instead of going to church, he refused to work for me at all, with some impertinent hint about God and Mammon.' 'Oh, did he so?' said Mr. Trueman. Now I will stand godfather to his child, and make him a handsome present into the bargain. Indeed, Mr. Fantom, a man must be a philosopher with a vengeance, if when he sees a house on fire, he stays to consider whether the owner has offended him. Oh, Mr. Fantom, I will forgive you still, if you will produce me, out of all your philosophy, such a sentence as Love your enemy -do good to them that hate you-if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink;' I will give up the blessed Gospel for the Age of Reason, if you will only bring me one sentiment equivalent to this.' Next day Mr. Trueman was obliged to go to London on business; but returned soon; as the time he had allotted to spend with Mr. Fantom was not yet elapsed. He came down the sooner indeed, that he might bring a small sum of money which the gentlemen at the Cat and Bagpipes had cheerfully subscribed for Jenkins. Trueman did not forget to desire his wife to make up also a quantity of clothing for this poor family, to which he did not neglect to add a parcel of good books, which indeed always made a part of his charities; as he used to say, there was something cruel in the kindness which was anxious to relieve the bodies of men, but was negligent of their souls. He stood in person to the new born child, and observed with much pleasure, that Jenkins and his wife thought a christening, not a season for merry-making, but á solemn act of religion. And they dedicated their infant to his Maker with becoming seri ousness. Trueman left the cottage and got back to Mr. Fantom's, just as the family were going to sit down to dinner, as he had promised. When they sat down, Mr. Fantom was not a little out of humour to see his table in some disorder. William was also rather more negligent than usual. If the company called for bread, he gave them beer, and he took away the clean plates, and gave them dirty ones. Mr. Fantom soon discovered that his servant was very drunk; he flew into a violent passion, and ordered him out of the room, charging that he should not ap', pear in his presence in that condition. William obeyed; but having slept an hour or two, and got about half sober, he again made his appearance, His master gave him a most severe reprimand, and called him an idle, drunken, vicious fellow. Sir,' said William, very pertly, If I do get drunk now and then, I only do it for the good of my country, and in obedience to your wishes.' Mr. Fantom, thoroughly provoked, now began to scold him in words not fit to be repeated; and asked him what he meant, 'Why, sir,' said William, 'you are a philosopher you know; and I have often overheard you say to your company, that private vices are public benefits; and so I thought that getting drunk was as pleasant a way of doing good to the public as any, especially when I could oblige my master at the same time.' 'Get out of my house,' said Mr. Fantom, in a great rage. I do not desire to stay a moment longer,' said William, 'so pay me my wages.''Not I indeed,' replied the master; nor will I give you a character; so never let me see your face again.' William took his master at his word, and not only got out of the house, but went out of the country too as fast as possible. When they found he was really gone, they made a hue-and-cry, in order to detain him till they examined if he had left every thing in the house as he had found it. But William had got out of reach, knowing he could not stand such a scrutiny. On examination, Mr. Fantom found that all his old port was gone, and Mrs. Fantom missed three of her best new spoons. William was pursued, but without success; and Mr. Fantom was so much discomposed that he could not for the rest of the day, talk on any subject but his wine and his spoons, nor harangue on any project but that of recovering both by bringing William to justice. Some days passed away, in which Mr. Fantom, having had time to cool, began to be ashamed that he had been betrayed into such ungoverned passion. He made the best excuse he could; said no man was perfect, and though he owned he had been too violent, yet still he hoped William would be brought to the punishment he deserved. In the meantime,' said Mr. Trueman, 'seeing how ill philosophy has agreed with your man, suppose you were to set about teaching your maids a little religion?' Mr. Fantom coolly replied, that the impertinent retort of a drunken footman could not spoil a system.'-' Your system, however, and your own behaviour,' said Trueman, 'have made that footman a scoundrel: and you are answerable for his offences.'-' Not I truly,' said Fantom; ‘he has seen me do no harm; he has neither seen me cheat, gamble, nor get drunk; and I defy you to say I corrupt my servants. I am a moral man, sir.' 'Mr. Fantom,' said Trueman, "if you were to get drunk every day, and game every night, you would, indeed, endanger your own soul, and give a dreadful example to your family; but great as those sins are, and God forbid that I should attempt to lessen them! still they are not worse, nay, they are not so bad, as the pes tilent doctrines with which you infect your 1 house and your neighbourhood. A bad action | statesmen, and the power of kings to accom. is like a single murder. The consequence may plish. I cannot free whole countries, nor reform end with the crime, to all but the perpetrator; the evils of society at large, but I can free an but a wicked principle is throwing lighted gun-aggrieved wretch in a workhouse; I can relieve powder into a town; it is poisoning a river; the distresses of one of iny journeymen; and I there are no bounds, no certainty, no ends to its can labour to reform myself and my own famischief. The ill effects of the worst action mily.' may cease in time, and the consequences of your bad example may end with your life; but souls may be brought to perdition by a wicked principle after the author of it has been dead for ages.' Fantom. You talk like an ignoramus, who has never read the new philosophy. All this nonsense of future punishment is now done away. It is our benevolence which makes us reject your creed; we can no more believe in a deity who permits so much evil in the present world, than one who threatens eternal punishment in the next. Trueman. What! shall mortal man be more merciful than God? Do you pretend to be more compassionate than that gracious Father who sent his own Son into the world to die for sinners? Fantom. You take all your notions of the Deity from the vulgar views your Bible gives you of him. To be sure I do,' said Trueman: can you tell me any way of getting a better notion of him? I do not want any of your farthing-candle philosophy in the broad sunshine of the Gospel, Mr. Fantom. My Bible tells me that God is love;' not merely loving, but LOVE. Now do you think a Being, whose very essence is love, would permit any misery among his children here, if it was not to be, some way or other, or some where or other, for their good? You forget, too, that in a world where there is sin, there must be misery. Then, too, I suppose, God permits this very misery partly to exercise the sufferers and partly to try the prosperous; for by trouble God corrects some and tries others. Suppose now, Tom Saunders had not been put in prison, you and I Some weeks after this a letter was brought to Mr. Fantom from his late servant William, who had been turned away for drunkenness, as related above, and who had also robbed his master of some wine and some spoons. Mr. Fantom, glancing his eye over the letter, said, 'It is dated from Chelmsford jail; that rascal has got into prison. I am glad of it with all my heart, it is the fittest place for such scoundrels. I hope he will be sent to Botany Bay, if not hanged.'O, ho! my good friend,' said Trueman, then I find that in abolishing all prisons you would just let one stand for the accommodation of those who would happen to rob you. General benevolence, I see, is compatible with particular resentments, though individual kindness is not consistent with universal philanthropy.' Mr. Fantom drily observed, that he was not fond of jokes, and proceeded to read the letter. It expressed an earnest wish that his late master would condescend to pay him one visit in his dark and doleful abode; as he wished to say a few words to him before the dreadful sentence of the law, which had already been pronounced, should be executed. 'Let us go and see the poor fellow,' said Trueman; it is but a morning's ride. If he is really so near his end it would be cruel to refuse him.' Not I, truly ;' said Fantom; he deserves nobe,Not thing at my hands but the halter he is likely to meet with. Such port is not to be had for money! and the spoons, part of my new dozen!" I As to the wine, said Trueman, I am afraid you must give that up, but the only way to get any tidings of the spoons is to go and hear what he has to say; I have no doubt but he will make such a confession as may be very useful to others, which, you know, is one grand advantage of punishments; and, besides, we may af ford him some little comfort.' 'As to comfort he deserves none from me,' said Fantom; 'and as to his confessions, they can be of no use to me, but as they give me a chance of getting my spoons; so I do not much care if I do take a —no, I beg pardon, you saved your guinea; well then, our club and I could not have shown our kindness in getting him out; nor would poor Saunders himself have had an opportunity of exercising his own patience and submission under want and imprisonment. So you see one reason why God permits misery, is that good men may have an opportunity of les-ride with you." sening it.' Mr. Fantom replied, 'There is no object which I have more at heart; I have, as I told you, a plan in my head of such universal benevolence as to include the happiness of all mankind.'' Mr. Fantom, said Trueman, feel that I have a general good will to all my brethren of mankind; and if I had as much money in my purse as I have love in my heart, I trust I should prove it: all I say is, that, in a station of life where I cannot do much, I am more called upon to procure the happiness of a poor neighbour, who has no one else to look to, than to form wild plans for the good of mankind, too extensive to be accomplished, and too chimerical to be put in practice. It is the height of folly for a little ignorant tradesman to distract himself with projecting schemes which require the wisdom of scholars, the experience of When they came to the prison, Mr. Trueman's tender heart sunk within him. He deplored the corrupt nature of man, which makes such rigorous confinement indispensably needful, not merely for the punishment of the of fender, but for the safety of society. Fantom, from mere trick and habit, was just preparing a speech on benevolence, and the cruelty of imprisonment; for he had a set of sentiments collected from the new philosophy which he always kept by him. The naming a man in power brought out the ready cut and dried phrase against oppression. The idea of rank included every vice, that of poverty every virtue; and he was furnished with all the invectives against the cruelty of laws, punishments, and prisons, which the new lexicon has produced. But his mechanical benevolence was suddenly checked; the re collection of his old port and his new spoons, said to his friend, well, sir, we will go, if you cooled his ardour, and he went on without saying a word. When they reached the cell where the unhappy William was confined, they stopped at the door. The poor wretch had thrown himself on the ground, as well as his chains would permit. He groaned piteously; and was so swallowed up with a sense of his own miseries, that he neither heard the door open, nor saw the gentlemen. He was attempting to pray, but in an agony which made his words hardly intelligible. Thus much they could make out God be merciful to me a sinner, the chief of sinners!' then, suddenly attempting to start up, but prevented by his irons, he roared out, 'O God! thou canst not be merciful to me, for I have denied thee; I have ridiculed my Saviour who died for me; I have broken his laws; I have derided his word; I have resisted his Spirit; I have laughed at that heaven which is shut against me; I have denied the truth of those torments which await To-morrow! to-morrow! O for a longer space for repentance! O for a short reprieve from hell!" me. please, for you see there is nothing to be done." 'Sir,' replied Mr. Trueman, mournfully, you may go if you please, but I shall stay, for I see there is a great deal to be done.'-'What!' rejoined the other, 'do you think it possible his lfe can be saved.' 'No, indeed,' said Trueman; but I hope it possible his soul may be saved.' 'I do not understand these things,' said Fantom, making toward the door. Nor I neither,' said Trueman; but as a fellow-sinner, I am bound to do what I can for this poor man. Do you go home, Mr. Fantom, and finish your treatise on universal benevolence, and the blessed effects of philosophy; and hark ye, be sure you let the frontispiece of your book represent William on the gibbet; that will be what our minister calls a PRACTICAL ILLUSTRATION. You know I hate theories: this is realizing; this is PHILOSOPHY made easy to the meanest capacity. This is the precious fruit which grows on that darling tree, so many slips of which have been transplanted from that land of liberty of which it is the native, but which, with all your digging, planting, watering, dunging, and dressing, will, I trust, never thrive in this blessed land of ours.' The last words, confession, and dying speech of WILLIAM WILSON,who was executed at Chelmsford for murder. Mr. Trueman wept so loud that it drew the attention of the criminal, who now lifted up his Mr. Fantom sneaked off to finish his work at eyes, and cast on his late master a look so dread- home; and Mr. Trueman staid to finish his in ful that Fantom wished for a moment that he the prison. He passed the night with the wretchhad given up all hope of the spoons, rather than ed convict; he prayed with him and for him, have exposed himself to such a scene. At length and read to him the penitential psalms, and the poor wretch said, in a low voice that would some portions of the Gospel.-But he was too ds have melted a heart of stone, 'O, sir, are you humble and too prudent a man to venture out there? I did indeed wish to see you before my of his depth by arguments and consolations dreadful sentence is put in execution. Oh, sir! which he was not warranted to use this he left to-morrow! to-morrow! But I have a confession for the clergyman-but he pressed on William to make to you. This revived Mr. Fantom, who the great duty of making the only amends now again ventured to glance a hope at the spoons. in his power to those whom he had led astray.— 'Sir,' said William, I could not die without They then drew up the following paper, which making my confession.' 'Ay, and restitution Mr. Trueman got printed, and gave away at the too, I hope,' replied Fantom: where are my place of execution. spoons?' 'Sir, they are gone with the rest of my wretched booty. But oh, sir! those spoons make so petty an article in my black account, that I hardly think of them. Murder! sir, murder is the crime for which I am justly doomed to die. Oh, sir, who can abide the anger of an offended God? Who can dwell with everlasting burnings? As this was a question which even a philosopher could not answer, Mr. Fantom was going to steal off, especially as he now gave up all hope of the spoons; but William called him back: Stay, sir, stay, I conjure you, as you will answer it at the bar of God. You must hear the sins of which you have been the occasion. You are the cause of my being about to suffer a shameful death.-Yes, sir, you made me a drunkard, a thief, and a murderer.' How dare you, William,' cried Mr. Fantom, with great emotion,' accuse me with being the cause of such horrid crimes?' 'Sir,' answered the criminal, 'from you I learned the principles which lead to those crimes. By the grace of God I should never have fallen into sins deserving of the gallows, if I had not overheard you say there was no hereafter, no judgment, no future reckoning. O, sir! there is a hell, dreadful, inconceivable, eternal!' Here, through the excess of anguish, the poor fellow fainted away. Mr. Fantom, who did not at all relish this scene, 'I was bred up in the fear of God, and lived with credit in many sober families, in which I was a faithful servant; but being tempted by a little higher wages, I left a good place to go and live with Mr. Fantom, who, however made good none of his fine promises, but proved a hard master. Full of fine words and charitable speeches in favour of the poor; but apt to oppress, overwork, and underpay them. In his service I was not allowed time to go to church. This troubled me at first, till I overheard my master say, that going to church was a superstitious prejudice, and only meant for the vulgar. Upon this I resolved to go no more; for I thought there could not be two religions, one for the master, and one for the servant. Finding my master never prayed, I too left off praying: this gave Satan great power over me, so that I from that time fell into almost every sin. I was very uneasy at first, and my conscience gave me no rest; but I was soon reconciled by overhearing my master and another gentleman say, that death was only an eternal sleep, and hell and judgment were but an invention of priests to keep the poor in order. I mention this as a warning to all masters and mistresses to take Mr. Trueman would never leave this poor penitent till he was launched into eternity, but attended him with the minister in the cart. This pious clergyman never cared to say what he thought of Williams state.-When Mr. Trucman ventured to mention his hope, that though his penitence was late, yet it was sincere, and spoke of the dying thief on the cross as a ground of encouragement, the minister with a very serious look, made this answer: 'Sir, that instance is too often brought forward on occasions to which it does not apply: I do not choose to say any thing to your application of it in the present case, but I will answer you in the words of a good man speaking of the penitent thief: 'There is one such instance given that nobody might despair, and there is but one, that nobody might presume.' Poor William was turned off just a quarter before eleven; and may the Lord have mercy or his soul! THE TWO WEALTHY FARMERS; OR, THE HISTORY OF MR. BRAGWELL. PART I. THE VISIT. IN SEVEN PARTS Mr. Bragwell was a substantial farmer and grazier. He had risen in the world by what worldly men call a run of good fortune. He had also been a man of great industry; that is, he had paid a diligent and constant attention to his own interest. He understood business, and had a knack of turning almost every thing to his own advantage. He had that sort of sense which good men call cunning, and knaves call wisdom. He was too prudent ever to do any thing so wrong that the law could take hold of him; yet he was not over scrupulous about the morality of an action, when the prospect of enriching himself by it was very great, and the chance of hurting his character was small. The corn he sent home to his customers was not always quite so good as the samples he had produced at market; and he now and then forgot to name some capital blemish in the horses he sold at fair. He scorned to be guilty of the petty frauds of cheating in weights and measures, for he thought that was a beggarly sin; but he valued himself on his skill in making a bargain, and fancied it showed his superior knowledge of the world to take advantage of the ignorance of a dealer. It was his constant rule to undervalue every VOL. I. thing he was about to buy, and to overvalue every thing he was about to sell; but as he seldom lost sight of his discretion, he avoided every thing that was very shameful; so that he was considered merely as a hard dealer, and a keen hand at a bargain. Now and then when he had been caught in pushing his own advantage too far, he contrived to get out of the scrape by turning the whole into a jest, saying it was a good take in, a rare joke, and he had only a mind to divert himself with the folly of his neighbour, who could be so easily imposed on: Mr. Bragwell, however, in his way, set a high value on character: not indeed that he had a right sense of its worth; he did not consider reputation as desirable because it increases influence, and for that reason strengthens the hands of a good man, and enlarges his sphere of usefulness: but he made the advantage of reputation, as well as of every other good, centre in himself. Had he observed a strict attention to principle, he feared he should not have got on so fast in the world as those do who consult expediency rather than probity, while, without a certain degree of character, he knew also, that he should forfeit that confidence which put other men in his power, and would set them as much on their guard against him, as he, who thought all mankind pretty much alike, was on his guard against them. Mr. Bragwell had one favourite maxim ; namely, that a man's success in life was a sure proof of his wisdom: and that all failure and misfortune was the consequence of a man's own folly. As this opinion was first taken up by him from vanity and ignorance, so it was more and more confirmed by his own prosperity. He saw that he himself had succeeded greatly without either money or education to begin with; and he therefore now despised every man, however excellent his character or talents might be, who had not the same success in life. His natural disposition was not particularly bad, but prosperity had hardened his heart. He made his own progress in life the rule by which the conduct of all other men was to be judged, without any allowance for their peculiar disadvantages, or the visitations of Providence. He thought, for his part, that every man of sense could command success on his undertakings, and control and dispose the events of his own life. But though he considered those who had had less success than himself as no better than fools, yet he did not extend this opinion to Mr. Worthy, whom he looked upon not only as a good but a wise man. They had been bred up when children in the same house; but with this difference, that Worthy was the nephew of the master, and Bragwell the son of the servant. Bragwell's father had been ploughman in the family of Mr. Worthy's uncle, a sensible man, who farmed a small estate of his own, and who having no children, bred up young Worthy as his son, instructed him in the business of husbandry, and at his death left him his estate. The father of Worthy was a pious clergyman, who lived with his brother the farmer, in order to help out a narrow income. He had bestowed much pains on the instruction of his son, and used frequently to repeat to him a saying, which he had picked up in a book written by one of the greatest men this country ever producedThat there were two things with which every man ought to be acquainted, RELIGION AND HIS OWN BUSINESS.-While he therefore took care that his son should be made an excellent farmer, he filled up his leisure hours in improving his mind: so that young Worthy had read more good books, and understood them better, than most men in his station. His reading however had been chiefly confined to husbandry and divinity, the two subjects which were of the most immediate importance to him. The reader will see by this time that Mr. Bragwell and Mr. Worthy were as likely to be as opposite to each other as two men could well be, who were nearly of the same age and condition, and who were neither of them without credit in the world. Bragwell indeed made far the greater figure; for he liked to cut a dash, as he called it. It was his delight to make the ancient gentry of the neighbourhood stare, at seeing a grazier vie with them in show, and exceed them in expense. And while it was the study of Worthy to conform to his station, and to set a good example to those about him, it was the delight of Bragwell to eclipse, in his way of life, men of larger fortune. He did not see how much his vanity raised the envy of his inferiors, the ill-will of his equals, and the contempt of his betters. His wife was a notable stirring woman, but vain, violent, and ambitious; very ignorant, and very high-minded. She had married Bragwell before he was worth a shilling, and as she had brought him a good deal of money, she thought herself the grand cause of his rising in the world; and thence took occasion to govern him most completely. Whenever he ventured to oppose her, she took care to put him in mind that he owed every thing to her; that had it not been for her, he might still have been stumping after a plough-tail, or serving hogs in old Worthy's farm-yard; but that it was she who had made a gentleman of him. In order to set about making him a gentleman, she had begun by teazing him till he had turned away all his poor relations who worked in the farm: she next drew him off from keeping company with his old acquaintance; and at last persuaded him to remove from the place where he had got his money. Poor woman! she had not sense and virtue enough to see how honourable it is for a man to raise. himself in the world by fair means, and then to help forward his poor relations and friends; engaging their services by his kindness, and endeavouring to turn his own advancement in life to the best account, that of making it the instrument of assisting those who had a natural claim to his protection. Mrs. Bragwell was an excellent mistress, according to her own notions of excellence; for no one could say she ever lost an opportunity of scolding a servant, or was ever guilty of the weakness of overlooking a fault. Towards her two daughters her behaviour was far otherwise. In them she could see nothing but perfections; but her extravagant fondness for these girls was full as much owing to pride as to affectation. She was bent on making a family, and having found out that she was too ignorant, and too much trained to the habits of getting money, ever to hope to make a figure herself, she looked to her daughters as the persons who were to raise the family of the Bragwells; and to this hope she foolishly submitted to any drudgery for their sakes, and bore every kind of impertinence from them. The first wish of her heart was to set them above their neighbours; for she used to say, what was the use of having substance, if her daughters might not carry themselves above girls who had nothing? To do her justice, she herself would be about early and late to see that the business of the house was not neglected. She had been bred to great industry, and continued to work when it was no longer necessary, both from early habit, and the desire of heaping up money for her daughters. Yet her whole notion of gentility was, that it consisted in being rich and idle; and, though she was willing to be a drudge herself, she resolved to make her daughters gentlewomen on this principle. To be well dressed, to eat elegantly, and to do nothing, or nothing of which is of any use, was what she fancied distinguished people in genteel life. And this is too common a notion of a fine education among a certain class; they do not esteem things by their use, but by their show. They estimate the value of their children's education by the money it costs, and not by the knowledge and goodness it bestows. People of this stamp often take a pride in the expense of learning, instead of taking pleasure in the advantages of it. And the silly vanity |