rished and strengthened by a good bit from a farmer's table. Less than is often thrown to a favourite spaniel would suffice; so that the expense would be almost nothing to the giver, while to the receiver it would bring health, and strength, and comfort, and recruited life. And it is with regret I must observe, that young women in our station are less attentive to the comforts of the poor, less active in visiting the cottages of the sick, less desirous of instructing the young, and working for the aged, than many ladies of higher rank. The multitude of opportunities of this sort which we neglect, among the families of our father's distressed tenants and workmen, will I fear, one day appear against us.

|

till I found myself in the workhouse with my father and Mr. Worthy.'

Here Mrs. Incle stopped. Grief, shame, pride, and remorse, had quite overcome Mr. Bragwell. He wept like a child, and said he hoped his daughter would pray for him; for that he was not in a condition to pray for himself, though he found nothing else could give him any comfort. His deep dejection brought on a fit of sickness. O! said he, I now begin to feel an expression in the sacrament which I used to repeat without thinking it had any meaning, the remembrance of my sins is grievous, the burthen of them is intolerable. O! it is awful to think what a sinner a man may be, and yet retain a decent character! How many thousands are in my condition, taking to themselves all the credit of their prosperity, instead of giving God the glory! heaping up riches to their hurt, instead of dealing their bread to the hungry! O! let those who hear of the Bragwell family, never say that vanity is a little sin. In me it has been the fruitful parent of a thousand sins-selfishness, hardness of heart, forgetfulness of God. In one of my sons, vanity was the cause of rapine, injustice extravagance, ruin, self-murder. Both my daughters were undone by vanity, though it only wore the more harmless shape of dress, idleness, and dissipation. The husband of my daughter Incle it destroyed, by leading him to live above his station, and to despise labour. Vanity ensnared the souls even of his pious parents, for while it led them to wish their son in a better condition, it led them to allow such indulgences as were unfit for his own. O! you who hear of us, humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God; resist high thoughts; let every imagination be brought into obedience to the Son of God. If you set a value on finery look into that grave; behold the mouldering body of my Betsey, who now says to Corruption, thou art my father, and to the worm, thou art my mother and my sister: Look to the bloody and brainless head of her husband. O, Mr. Worthy, how does Providence mock at human foresight! I have been greedy of gain, that the son of Mr. Squeeze might be a great man; he is dead; while the child of Ti mothy Incle, whom I had doomed to beggary, will be my heir. Mr. Worthy, to you I commit this boy's education; teach him to value his immortal soul more, and the good things of this life less than I have done. Bring him up in the fear of God, and in the government of his pas sions. Teach him that unbelief and pride are at the root of all sin. I have found this to my cost. I trusted in my riches; I said, “to-morrow shall be as this day and more abundant." I did not remember that for all these things God would bring me to judgment. I am not sure that I believed in a judgment: I am not sure that I believed in a God."

By the time I was tolerably recovered, I was forced to leave the house. I had no human prospect of subsistence. I humbly asked of God to direct my steps, and to give me entire obedience to his will. I then cast my eye mournfully on my child; and though prayer had relieved my heart of a load which without it would have been intolerable, my tears flowed fast, while I cried out in the bitterness of my soul, How many hired servants of my father have bread enough, and to spare, and I perish with hunger. This text appeared a kind of answer to my prayer, and gave me courage to make one more attempt to soften you in my favour. I resolved to set out directly to find you, to confess my disobedience, and to beg a scanty pittance, with which I and my child might be meanly supported in some distant country, where we should not, by our presence, disgrace our more happy relations. We set out and travelled as fast as my weak health and poor George's little feet and ragged shoes would permit. I brought a little bundle of such work and necessaries as I had left, by selling which we subsisted on the road.'-'I hope, interrupted Bragwell, there were no cabbage-nets in it ?'-'At least,' said her mother, I hope you did not sell them near home?'-'No; I had none left, said Mrs. Incle, or I should have done it. I got many a lift in a wagon for my child and my bundle, which was a great relief to me, as I should have had both to carry. And here I cannot help saying, I wish drivers would not be too hard in their demands, if they help a poor sick traveller on a mile or two, it proves a great relief to weary bodies and naked feet; and such little cheap charities may be considered as the cup of cold water, which, if given on right grounds, shall not lose its reward.' Here Bragwell sighed to think that when mounted on his fine bay mare, or driving his neat chaise, it had never once crossed his mind that the poor way-worn foot traveller was not equally at his ease, nor had it ever occurred to him that shoes were a necessary accommodation. Those who want nothing are apt to forget how many there are who want Bragwell at length grew better, but he never every thing. Mrs. Incle went on: 'I got to this recovered his spirits. The conduct of Mrs. Incle village about seven this evening; and while I through life was that of an humble Christian. sat on the church yard wall to rest and meditate She sold all her sister's finery which her father how I should make myself known at home, I had given her, and gave the money to the poor; saw a funeral; I inquired whose it was, and saying, 'It did not become one who professed learnt it was my sister's. This was too much penitence to return to the gayeties of life.' Mr. for me, and I sank down in a fit, and knew no- | Bragwell did not oppose this; not that he had thing that happened to me from that moment, I fully acquired a just notion of the self-denying VOL. I. L

spirit of religion, but having a head not very Mr. Bragwell's heart had been so buried in clear at making distinctions, he was never able, the love of the world, and evil habits had beafter the sight of Squeeze's mangled body, to come so rooted in him, that the progress he think of gayety and grandeur, without think-made in religion was very slow; yet he earn. ing at the same time of a pistol and bloody brains; estly prayed and struggled against sin and for, at his first introduction into gay life had vanity; and when his unfeeling wife declared presented him with all these objects at one view, she could not love the boy unless he was called he never afterwards could separate them in his by their name instead of Incle, Mr. Bragwell mind. He even kept his fine beaufet of plate would never consent, saying he stood in need always shut; because it brought to his mind the of every help against pride. He also got the grand unpaid-for sideboard that he had seen laid letter which Squeeze wrote just before he shot out for Mr. Squeeze's supper, to the remem- himself, framed and glazed; this he hung up go and brance of which he could not help tacking the in his chamber, and made it a rule to idea of debts, prisons, executions, and self- read it as often as he found his heart disposed to murder.

VANITY.

*

TIS ALL FOR THE BEST.*

IT is all for the best,' said Mrs. Simpson, I whenever any misfortune befel her. She had got such a habit of vindicating Providence, that instead of weeping and wailing under the most trying dispensations, her chief care was to convince herself and others, that however great might be her sufferings, and however little they could be accounted for at present, yet that the Judge of all the earth could not but do right. Instead of trying to clear herself from any possible blame that might attach to her under those misfortunes which, to speak after the manner of men, she might seem not to have deserved, she was always the first to justify Him who had inflicted it. It was not that she superstitiously converted every visitation into a punishment; she entertained more correct ideas of that God who overrules all events. She knew that some calamities were sent to exercise her faith, others | to purify her heart; some to chastise her rebellious will, and all to remind her that this was not her rest;' that this world was not the scene, for the full and final display of retributive justice. The honour of God was dearer to her than her own credit, and her chief desire was to turn all events to his glory.

formerly been lady's maid at the nobleman's house in the village of which Mrs. Simpson's father had been minister.-Betty, after a life of vanity, was, by a train of misfortunes, brought to this very alms-house; and though she had taken no care by frugality and prudence to avoid it, she thought it a hardship and disgrace, in stead of being thankful, as she ought to have At first she did not been, for such a retreat. know Mrs. Simpson; her large bonnet, cloak, and brown stuff gown (for she always made her appearance conform to her circumstances) being very different from the dress she had been used to wear when Mrs. Betty has seen her dining at the great house; and time and sorrow had much altered her countenance. But when Mrs. Simpson kindly addressed her as an old acquaintance, she screamed with surprise-'What! you, madam?' cried she: 'you in an alms-house, living on charity: 'you, who used to be so charitable yourself, that you never suffered any distress in · That the parish which you could prevent?' may be one reason, Betty,' replied Mrs. Simpson, why Providence has provided this refuge for my old age.-And my heart overflows with gratitude when I look back on his goodness. Though Mrs. Simpson was the daughter of a No such great goodness, methinks,' said Betty; clergyman, and the widow of a genteel trades-why you were born and bred a lady, and are man, she had been reduced by a succession of misfortunes, to accept of a room in an almshouse. Instead of repining at the change; instead of dwelling on her former gentility and saying, 'how handsomely she had lived once; and how hard it was to be reduced; and she little thought ever to end her days in an almshouse;' which is the common language of those who were never so well off before; she was thankful that such an asylum was provided for want and age; and blessed God that it was to the Christian dispensation alone that such pious institutions owed their birth.

One fine evening, as she was sitting reading her Bible on the little bench shaded with honeysuckles, just before her door, who should come and sit down by her but Mrs. Betty, who had

• Betty,

now reduced to live in an alms-house.
I was born and bred a sinner, undeserving of
the mercies I have received.' 'No such great
Why, I heard you had
mercies,' said Betty.
been turned out of doors; that your husband
had broke; and that you had been in danger of
starving, though I did not know what was be-
come of you. It is all true, Betty, glory be to
God! it is all true.

'Well,' said Betty, 'you are an odd sort of a gentlewoman. If from a prosperous condition I had been made a bankrupt, a widow, and a beggar, I should have thought it no such mighty matter to be thankful for: but there is no accounting for taste. The neighbours used to say that all your troubles must needs be a judginent upon you; but I who knew how good you were,

* A profligate wit of a neighbouring country having attempted to turn this doctrine into ridicule, under the same title here assumed, it occurred to the author that it might not be altogether useless to illustrate the same doctrine on Christian principles.

ז'

'No, Betty,' replied Mrs. Simpson, it was very providential; this man, though he maintained a decent character, had a good fortune, and lived soberly, yet he would not have made me happy.' Why what could you want more of a man?' said Betty. Religion,' returned Mrs. Simpson. As my father made a creditable appearance, and was very charitable; and as I was an only child, this gentleman concluded that he could give me a considerable fortune į for he did not know that all the poor in his parish are the children of every pious clergyman. Finding I had little or nothing left me, he withdrew his attentions.' What a sad thing! cried Betty. No, it was all for the best; Providence overruled his covetousness for my good. I could not have been happy with a man whose soul was set on the perishable things of this world; nor did I esteem him, though I laboured to submit my own inclinations to those of my kind father. The very circumstance of being left pennyless produced the direct contrary effect on Mr. Simpson: he was a sensible young man, engaged in a prosperous business: we had long highly valued each other; but while my father lived, he thought me above his hopes. We were married; I found him an amiable, industrious, good-tempered man; he respected religion and religious people; but with excellent dispositions, I had the grief to find him less pious than I had hoped. He was ambitious, and a little too much immersed in worldly schemes; and though I knew it was all done for my sake, yet that did not blind me so far as to make me think it right. He attached himself so eagerly to business, that he thought every hour lost in which he was not doing something that would tend to raise me to what he called my proper rank. The more prosperous he grew the less

thought it very hard you should suffer so much; but now I see you reduced to an alms-house, I beg your perdon, madam, but I am afraid the neighbours were in the right, and that so many misfortunes could never have happened to you without you had committed a great many sins to deserve them; for I always thought that God | is so just that he punishes us for all our bad actions, and rewards us for all our good ones.' 'So he does, Betty; but he does it in his own wey, and at his own time, and not according to our notions of good and evil; for his ways are not as our ways.-God, indeed, punishes the bad, and rewards the good; but he does not do it fully and finally in this world. Indeed he does not set such a value on outward things as to make riches, and rank, and beauty, and health, the reward of piety; that would be acting like weak and erring men, and not like a just and holy God. Our belief in a future state of rewards and punishments is not always so strong as it ought to be, even now; but how to tally would our faith fail, if we regularly saw every thing made even in this world. We shall lose nothing by having pay-day put off. The longest voyages make the best returns. So far am I from thinking that God is less just, and future happiness less certain, because I see the wicked sometimes prosper, and the righteous suffer in this world, that I am rather led to believe that God is more just and heaven more certain for, in the first place, God will not put off his favourite children with so poor a lot as the good things of this world; and next, seeing that the best men here below do not often attain to the best things; why it only serves to strengthen my belief that they are not the best things in His eye; and He has most assuredly reserved for those that love Him such good things as eye has not seen nor ear heard.' God, by keep-religious he became; and I began to find that ing man in Paradise while he was innocent, and turning him into this world as soon as he had sinned, gave a plain proof that he never intended the world, even in its happiest state, as a place of reward. My father gave me good principles and useful knowledge; and while he taught me by a habit of constant employment, to be, if I may so say, independent of the world; yet he led me to a constant sense of dependence on God.' 'I do not see, however," interrupted Mrs. Betty, that your religion has been of any use to you. It has been so far from preserving you from trouble, that I think you have had more than the usual share.'

one might be unhappy with a husband one tenderly loved. One day as he was standing on some steps to reach down a parcel of goods he fell from the top and broke his leg in two places.'

'What a dreadful misfortune" said Mrs. Betty.-'What a signal blessing!" said Mrs. Simpson. "Here I am sure I had reason to say all was for the best; from that very hour in which my outward troubles began, I date the beginning of my happiness. Severe suffering, a near prospect of death, absence from the world, silence, reflection, and above all, the divine blessings on the prayers and scriptures I read to him, were the means used by our merciful 'No,' said Mrs. Simpson; nor did Christi- Father to turn my husband's heart.-During anity ever pretend to exempt its followers from this confinement he was awakened to a deep trouble; this is no part of the promise. Nay, sense of his own sinfulness, of the vanity of all the contrary is rather stipulated; ' in the world this world has to bestow, and of his great need ye shall have tribulation.'-But if it has not of a Saviour. But if it has not of a Saviour. It was many months before he taught me to escape sorrow, I humbly hope it could leave his bed; during this time his busihas taught me how to bear it. If it has taught ness was neglected. His principal clerk took me not to feel, it has taught me not to murmur. advantage of his absence to receive large sums I will tell you a little of my story. As my fa- of money in his name, and absconded. On hearther could save little or nothing for me, he was ing of this great loss, our creditors came faster very desirous of seeing me married to a young upon us than we could answer their demands; gentleman in the neighbourhood, who expressed they grew more impatient as we were less able a regard for me. But while he was anxiously to satisfy them; one misfortune followed anengaged in bringing this about, my good father other; till at length Mr. Simpson became a bankrupt.'

died.'

'How very unlucky!' interrupted Betty,

'What an evil!' exclaimed Mrs. Betty. Yet

.

and distrusting and inquiring at every turning. When the doctor sends home your medicine, don't you so fully trust in his ability and good will, that you swallow it down in full confidence? You never think of inquiring what are the ingredients, why they are mixed in that particular way, why there is more of one and less of another, and why they are bitter instead of sweet! If one dose does not cure you, he orders another, and changes the medicine when he sees the first does you no good, or that by long use the same medicine has lost its effect; if the weaker fails he prescribes a stronger: you swallow all, you submit to all, never questioning the skill or the kindness of the physician. God is the only being whom we do not trust, though He is the only one who is fully competent, both in will and power, to fulfil all his promises; and who has solemnly and repeatedly pledged himself to fulfil them in those Scriptures which we receive as his revealed will.'

it led in the end to much good,' resumed Mrs., do so; you were not anxiously watching him,
Simpson. 'We were forced to leave the town
in which we had lived with so much credit
and comfort, and to betake ourselves to a mean
lodging in a neighbouring village, till my hus-
band's strength should be recruited, and till we
could have time to look about us and see what
was to be done. The first night we got to this
poor dwelling, my husband felt very sorrowful,
not for his own sake, but that he had brought
so much poverty on me, whom he had so dearly
loved: I on the contrary, was unusually cheer-
ful: for the blessed change in his mind had more
than reconciled me to the sad change in his
circumstances. I was contented to live with
him in a poor cottage for a few years on earth,
if it might contribute to our spending a blessed
eternity together in heaven. I said to him,
'Instead of lamenting that we are now reduced
to want all the comforts of life, I have some-
times been almost ashamed to live in the full
enjoyments of them, when I have reflected that
my Saviour not only chose to deny himself all 'Mr. Simpson thanked me for my little ser-
these enjoyments, but even to live a life of hard- mon, as he called it; but said at the same time,
ship for my sake; not one of his numerous mi- that what made my exhortations produce a
racles tended to his own comfort; and though powerful effect on his mind was, the patient
we read at different times that he both hunger- cheerfulness with which he was pleased to say
ed and thirsted, yet it was not for his own gra- bore my share in our misfortunes. A submis-
tification that he once changed water into wine; sive behaviour, he said, was the best practical
and I have often been struck with the near posi- illustration of a real faith. When he had thank-
tion of that chapter in which this miracle is ed God for our supper, we prayed together;
recorded, to that in which he thirsted for a after which we read the eleventh chapter of the
draught of water at the well in Samaria.* It epistle to the Hebrews. When my husband had
was for others, not himself, that even the hum- finished it, he said, 'Surely if God's chief fa-
ble sustenance of barley bread was multiplied. vourites have been martyrs, is not that a suffi-
See here, we have a bed left us; I had, indeed, | cient proof that this world is not a place of hap-
nothing but straw to stuff it with, but the Sa-piness, no earthly prosperity the reward of vir-
viour of the world, had not where to lay his tue. Shall we after reading this chapter, com-
head.' My husband smiled through his tears, plain of our petty trials? Shall we not rather be
and we sat down to supper; It consisted of a roll thankful that our affliction is so light?'
and a bit of cheese which I had brought with
me, and we ate it thankfully. Seeing Mr. Simp.
son beginning to relapse into distrust, the fol-
lowing conversation as nearly as I can remem-
ber, took place between us. He began by re-
marking, that it was a mysterious Providence
that he had been less prosperous since he had
been less attached to the world, and that his
endeavours had not been followed by that suc-
cess which usually attends industry. I took
the liberty to reply: Your heavenly Father
sees on which side your danger lies, and is
mercifully bringing you, by these disappoint-
ments, to trust less in the world and more
in himself. My dear Mr. Simpson,' added I,
'we trust every body but God. As children we
As children we
obey our parents implicitly, because we are
taught to believe all is for our good which they
command or forbid. If we undertake a voyage,
we trust entirely to the skill and conduct of the
pilot; we never torment ourselves in thinking
he will carry us east, when he has promised to
carry us west.
If a dear and tried friend makes
us a promise, we depend on him for the perform-
ance, and do not wound his feelings by our sus-
picions. When you used to go your annual
journey to London, in the mail coach, you con-
fided yourself to the care of the coachman, that
he would carry you where he had engaged to

* See John, chap. ii.--and John, chap. iv.

'Next day Mr. Simpson walked out in search of some employment, by which we might be supported. He got a recommendation to Mr. Thomas, an opulent farmer and factor, who had large concerns, and wanted a skilful person to assist him in keeping his accounts. This we thought a fortunate circumstance; for we found that the salary would serve to procure us at least all the necessaries of life. The farmer was so pleased with Mr. Simpson's quickness, regularity, and good sense, that he offered us, of his own accord, a little neat cottage of his own, which then happened to be vacant, and told us we should live rent free, and promised to be a friend to us.'-' All does seem for the best now, indeed;' interrupted Mrs. Betty.-'We shall see,' said Mrs. Simpson, and thus went on.

'I now became very easy and very happy; and was cheerfully employed in putting our few things in order, and making every thing look to the best advantage. My husband, who wrote all the day for his employer, in the evening assisted me in doing up our little garden. This was a source of much pleasure to us; we both loved a garden, and we were not only contented but cheerful. Our employer had been absent some weeks on his annual journey. home on a Saturday night, and the next morning sent for Mr. Simpson to come and settle his accounts, which were got behind-hand by his.

He came

long absence. We were just going to church, and Mr. Simpson sent back word, that he would call and speak to him on his way home. A second message followed, ordering him to come to the farmer's directly: he agreed that he would walk round that way, and that my husband should call and excuse his attendance.

got our little dinner ready; it was a better one than we had for a long while been accustomed to sec, and I was unusually cheerful at this improvement in our circumstances. I saw his eyes full of tears, and oh with what pain did he bring himself to tell me that it was the last dinner we must ever eat in this house. I took his hand with a smile, and only said, 'The Lord gave and the Lord taketh away, blessed be the name of the Lord.'-' Notwithstanding this sudden stroke of injustice,' said my husband, 'this is still a happy country. Our employer, it is true, may turn us out at a moment's notice, because it is his own, but he has no further power over us; he cannot confine or punish us. His riches, it is true, give him power to insult, but not to oppress us. The same laws to which the affluent resort, protect us also. And as to our being driven out from a cottage, how many persons of the highest rank have lately been driven out from their palaces and castles; persons too, born in a station which he never enjoyed, and used to all the indulgences of that rank and wealth we never knew, are at this moment wandering over the face of the earth, without a house or without bread; exiles and beggars; while we, blessed be God, are in our own native land; we have still our liberty, our limbs, the protection of just and equal laws, our churches, our Bibles, and our Sabbaths.'

'The farmer more ignorant and worse educated than his ploughman, with all that pride and haughtiness which the possession of wealth, without knowledge or religion is apt to give, rudely asked my husband what he meant by sending him word that he would not come to him till the next day; and insisted that he should stay and settle the accounts then.-'Sir,' said my husband, in a very respectful manner, I am on my road to church, and I am afraid shall be too late.'- Are you so,' said the farmer! Do you know who sent for you? You may, however, go to church, if you will, so you make haste back; and, d'ye hear, you may leave your accounts with me, as I conclude you have brought them with you; I will look them over by the time you return, and then you and I can do all I want to have done to-day in about a couple of hours, and I will give you home some letters to copy for me in the evening.' —'Sir,' answered my husband, 'I dare not obey you; it is Sunday.'-' And so you refuse to settle my accounts only because it is Sunday.' 'Sir,' replied Mr. Simpson, if you would give me a handful of silver and gold I dare not break the commandment of my God.'-' Well,' said the farmer, but this is not breaking the commandment; I don't order you to drive my cattle, or to work in my garden, or to do any thing which you might fancy would be a bad example,' Sir,' replied my husband, 'the example indeed goes a great way, but it is not the first object. The deed is wrong in itself.'Well, but I shall not keep you from church; and when you have been there, there is no harm in doing a little business, or taking a little pleasure the rest of the day.'-'Sir,' answered my husband, the commandment does not say, thou shalt keep holy the Sabbath morning, but the Sabbath day.' Get out of my house, you puritanical rascal, and out of my cottage too,' said the farmer; for if you refuse to do my work, I am not bound to keep my engagement with you; as you will not obey me as a master, I shall not pay you as a servant.'--' Sir,' said Mr. Simpson, I would gladly obey you, but I have a master in heaven whom I dare not disobey.'' Then let him find employment for you,' said the enraged farmer; for I fancy you will get but poor employment on earth with these scrupulous notions, and so send home my papers, directly, and pack off out the parish.' --Out of your cottage,' said my husband, 'I certainly will; but as to the parish, I hope I may remain in that, if I can find employment. —I I will make it too hot to hold you,' replied the farmer, so you had better troop off bag and baggage for I am overseer, and as you are the house. : sickly, it is my duty not to let any vagabonds stay in the parish who are likely to become chargeable.'

By the time my husband returned home, for he found it too late to go to church, I had

This happy state of my husband's mind hushed my sorrows, and I never once murmured; nay, I sat down to dinner with a degree of cheerfulness, endeavouring to cast all our care on 'Him that careth for us.' We had begged to stay till the next morning, as Sunday was not the day on which we liked to remove; but we were ordered not to sleep another night in that house; so as we had little to carry, we marched off in the evening to the poor lodging we had before occupied. The thought that my husband had cheerfully renounced his little all for conscience sake, gave an unspeakable serenity to my mind; and I felt thankful that though cast down we were not forsaken: nay, I felt a live y gratitude to God, that while I doubted not he would accept this little sacrifice, as it was heartily made for his sake, he had gracious ly forborne to call us to greater trials.'

'And so you were turned adrift once more? Well, ma'am, saving your presence, I hope you won't be such a fool as to say all was for the best now.'- Yes, Betty: He who does all things well, now made his kind Providence more manifest than ever. That very night, while we were sweetly sleeping in our poor lodging, the pretty cottage, out of which we were so unkindly driven, was burned to the ground by a flash of lightning which caught the thatch, and so completely consumed the whole little building that had it not been for the merciful Providence who thus overruled the cruelty of the farmer for the preservation of our lives, we must have been burned to ashes with

'It was the Lord's doing, and it was marvellous in our eyes.'-'O that men would therefore praise the Lord for his goodness, and for all the wonders that he doeth for the children of men!'

'I will not tell you all the trials and afflic