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ries, that she and her husband ought even fairs, Mr. Squeeze, who had made an overto deny themselves comforts to oblige such charge of some thousand pounds in one artia generous son, who did all this in honour of|cle, lost his contract; he was found to owe a their daughter; besides, if he did not send large deht to government, and his accounts the money soon, they might be obliged tu must be made up immediately. This was lay down their coach, and then she should impossible ; he had not only spent his large never be able to show her face again. At income, without making any provision for length Mr. Bragwell lent him the money on his family, but had contracted heavy debts his bond ; he knew Squeeze's income was by gaining and other viccs. His creditors large ; for he had carefully, inquired into poured in upon him. He wrote to Bragwell this particular, and for the rest he took his to borrow another sum; but without hinting word. Mrs. Squeeze also got great presents at the loss of his contract. These repeated from her mother, by representing to her demands made Bragwell so uneasy, that inhow expensively they were forced to live to stead of sending him the money, he resolved keep up their credit, and what honour she to go himself secretly to London, and judge was conferring on the family of the Brag-Iby his own eyes how things were going on, wells, by spending their money in such as his mind strangely misgave him. He got grand company. Among many other let- to Mr. Squeeze's house about eleven at ters she wrote her the following:

night, and knocked gently, concluding that

they must needs be gone to bed. But what TO MRS. BRAGWELL.

was his astonishment to find the hall was full You can't imagine, dear mother, how

of men; he pushed through in spite of them, charmingly we live.- I lie a-bed almost all

though to his great surprise they insisted on day, and am up all night; but it is never

knowing his name, saying they must carry it daik for all that, for we burn such numbers

to their lady'. This affronted him : he refuof candles all at once, that the sun would be sed, saying, “It is not because I am ashamed of no use at all in London. Then I am so of my

of my name, it will pass for thousands in any happy! for we are never quiet a moment,

market in the west of England. Is this your Sundays or werking-days; nay, I should not

| London manners, not to let a man of my creknow which was which, only that we have

dit in without knowing his name indeed !! most pleasure on a Sunday: because it is the What was lus amazement to see every room only day on which people have nothing to do:

Jas full of card-tables and of fine gentlemen but divert themselves, Then the great folks

k) and ladies as it would hold. All was so are all so kind, and so good ; they have not al. 19

light, and so gay, and so festive, and so grand, bit of pride, for they will come and eat and

that he reproached himself for his suspicions, drink, and win my money, just as if I was

thought nothing too good for them, and retheir equal ; and if I have got but a cold,

solved secretly to give Squeeze another five they are so very unhappy that they send to

hundred pounds to help to keep up so much know how I do; and though I suppose they

grandeur and happiness. At length seeing can't rest till the footman has told them, yet

a footman he knew, he asked him where they are so polite, that if I have been dying

were his master and mistress, for he could 'they seem to have forgotten it next time we

not pick them out among the company ; or meet, and not to know but they have seen

en rather his ideas were so confused with the me the day before. Oh! they are true splendor of the scene, that he did not know friends; and for ever smiling, and so fond of

so fond of whether they were there or not. The man one another, that they like to meet and enjoy

said, that his master had just sent for his one another's company by hundreds, and all lady up stairs, and he believed that he was ways think the more the merrier. I shall

not well. Mr. Bragwell said he would go never be tired of such a delightful life,

up himself and look for his daughter, as he * Your dutiful daughter,

could not speak so freely to her before all • BETSEY SQUEEZE.'

i that company.

He went up, knocked at the chamber door, The style of her letters, however, altered and its not being opened, made him push it in a few months. She owned that though with some violence. He heard a bustling things went on gayer and grander than ever, noise within, and again made a fruitless atyet she hardly ever saw her husband, except tempt to open the door. At this the noise her house was full of company and cards, or increased, and Mr. Bragwell was struck to dancing was going on ; that he was often so the heart at the sound of a pistol from within. busy abroad he could not come home all He now kicked so violently against the door night ; that he always borrowed the money that it burst open, when the first sight he saw her mother sent her when he was going out his daughter falling to the ground in a fit, on this nightly business; and that the last and Mr. Squeeze dying by a shot from a time she had asked him for money he cursed pistol which was dropping out of his hand, and swore, and bid her apply to the old far- Mr. Bragwell was not the only person whom mer and his rib, who were made of money, the sound of the pistol had alarmed. The

This letter Mrs. Bragwell concealed from servants, the company, all heard it, and all her husband,

ran up to this scene of horror. Those who At length, on some change in public af-I had the best of the game took care to bring

up t'icir tricks in their hands, having had duced against them. As long as thou dost the prudence to leave the very few who well unto thyself, men shall speak good of could be trusted, to watch the stakes, while thee.' One guest who, unluckily, had no those who had a prospect of losing prosted other house to goto, coolly said, as he walkby the confusion, and threw up iheir cards, ed off, «Squeeze might as well have put off All was dismay and terror, Some ran for a shooting himself till the morning. It was surgeon, others examined the dying man ; monstrously provoking that he could not some removed Mrs. Squeeze to her bed, wait an hour or two.' while poor Bragwell could neither see nor! As every thing in the house was seized, hear, nor do any thing. One of the compa- Mr. Brag well prevailed on his miserable ny took up a letier which lay open upon the laughter, weak as she was, next morning to table, and was addressed to him; they set out with him to the country. His acread it, hoping it might explain the horrid quaintance with polite life was short, but he mystery. It was as follows:

had seen a great deal in a little time. They

had a slow and sad journey. In about a 'TO MR. BRAGWELL.

week, Mrs. Squeeze lay-in of a dead child ; ‘Sir-Fetch home your daughter; I have

ve she herself languished a few days, and then ruined her, myself, and the child to which

n died; and the afflicted parents saw the two she every hour expects to be a mother. 1

I darling objects of their ambition, for whose have lost my contract. My debts are im- sak

osakes they had made too much haste to be mense. You refuse me muner: I must die rich, carried to the land where all things are then : but I will die like a man of spirit. forgotten. Mrs. Bragwell's grief, like her They wait to take me to prison ; I have two

o other passions, was extravagant; and poor executions in my house ; but I have ten card

ancard Bragwell's sorrow was rendered so bitter by tables in it. I would die as I have lived. I

lived'self-reproach, that he would quite have sunk invited all this company, and have drunk

drink ander it, had he not thought of his old exnard since dinner to get primed for the Pedient in distress, that of sending for Mr. dreadful deed, My wife refuses to write to

J Worthy to comfort him, you for another thousand, and she must

It was Mr. Worthy's way, to warn people take the consequences. Vanity has been of those mistoitunes which he saw their my ruin ; it has caused all my crimes. |

3 faults must needs bring on them; but not to Whoever is resolved to live bevond his in-repr

This in reproach or desert them when the misforcome is liable to every sin, He can never

op tunes came. He had never been near Bragsay to himself, Thus far shalt thou go and

dwell, during the short but flourishing reign no farther. Vanity led me to commit acts :

of the Squeezes: for he knew that prosperiof rapine, that I might live in splendor : ty made the ears cleat and the heart hard to vanity makes me connuit self-murder. be-counsel; but as soon as he heard his friend cause I will not live in poverty. The new was in trouble, he set out to go to him. Bragphilosophy says, that death is an eternall)

well burst into a violent fit of tears when he sicep; bnt the new philosophy lies. Do saw him, and when he could speak, said. you take heed; it is too late for me: the

1. This trial is more than I can bear.' Mr. dreadful gulf yawns to swallow me; Il

i Worthy kindly took him by the hand, and plunge into perdition : there is no repen

when he was a little composed, said, I will tance in the grave, no hope in hell.

tell you a short story - There was in ancient Yours, &c.

times a famous man who was a slave. His DASHALI SOLEEZElinaster, who was very good to him, one day

gave him a bitter melon, and bade liim eat The dead body was removed, and Mr. it: he ate it up without one word of comBragwell remaining almost without speech plaint.—“How was it possible,” said the or motion, the company began to think of re-master, “for you to eat so very nauseous tiring, much out of humour at having their and disagreeable a fruit?”—The slave reparty so disagreeably broken up: they com- plied, “ My good master, I have received forted themselves, however, that it was 80 so many favours from your bounty, that it is early (for it was now scarcely twelve) they no wonder if I should once in my life eat could finish their evening at another party or one bittter melon from your hands.”—This two; so completely do habits of pleasure, as generous answer so struck the master, that it is called, harden the heart, and steel it not the history says he gave him his liberty. only against virtuous impressions, but against With such subinissive sentiments, my friend, natural feelings! Now it was, that those who should man receive his portion of sufferings had nightly rioted at the expense of these from God, from whoiu he receives so many wretched people, were the first to abuse blessings. You in particular have received them. Not an offer of assistance was made “much good at the hand of God, shall you to this poor forlorn woman; not a word of not receive evil also ?") kindness or of pity; nothing but censure was '()! Mr. Worthy !' said Bragwell, this Dow heard. Why must these upstarts ape blow is too heavy for me, I cannot survive people of quality though is long as these this shock: I do not desire it, I only wish to upstarts could feast them, their vulgarity die.'-'We are very apt to talk most of dyand their bad character had never been pro-ling when we are least fit for it,' said Wortlıy. “This is not the language of that sub- ! Bragwell was not in a state either to consent mission which enakes us prepare for deatíı ; or refuse, and his friend drew him to the put of that despair which makes us out of workhouse, about the door of which stood a humour with üte. O! Mr. Bragwell! you crowd of people. She is not dead,' said are indeed disappointed of the grand ends one, 'she moves her head.'--' But she wants which made life so delightful to you ; but air,' said all of them, while they all, accordtill your heart is humbled, til you are ing to custom, pushed so close upon her that brought to a serious conviction of sin, till you it was impossible she could get any. A fine are brought to see what is the true end of boy of two or three years old stood by her, life, you can have no hope in death. You crying, Mammy is dead, mammy is starthink you have no business on earth, because ved. Mr. Worthy made up to the poor wothose for whose sake you too eagerly heap- man, holding his friend by the arm : in ored up riches are no müze, But is there nctlder to give her air he untied a large black under the canopy of heaven some afilicted i bennet which hid her face, when Mr. Bragbeing whom you may yet relieve, some mo- well, at that moment casting his eyes on her, dest merit which you may bring forward, saw in this poor stranger the face of his own some helpless creature you may save by runaway daughter, Mrs. Incle. He groanyour advice, some perishing Christian you ed, but could not speak; and as he was may sustain by your wealth? When you turning away to conceal his anguish, the have no sins of your own to repent of, no little boy fondly caught hold of his hand, mercies of God to be thankful for, no mise- lisping out, stay and give mammy some ries of others to relieve, then, and not till bread! His heart yearned towards the then, I consent you should sink down in de-childi; he grasped his little hand in his, while spair, and call on death to relieve you.' he sorrowfully said to Mr. Worthy, It is * Mr. Worthy attended his afliicted friend too much, send away the people. It is my to the funeral of his unhappy daughter and dear naughty child; my punishment is her babe. The solemn service; the commit- greater than I can bear.Mr. Worthy ting his late gay and beautiful daughter to desired the people to go and leave the strandarkness, to worms, and to corruption ;- ger to them ; but by this time she was no the sight of the dead infant, for whose sake stranger to any of them. Pale and meagre he had resumed all his schemes of vanity as was her face, and poor and shabby as was aud covetousness, when he thought he had her dress, the proud and flaunting Miss Polly got the better of them ;-the melancholy Bragwell was easily known by every one. conviction that all human prosperity ends in present. They went away, but with the ashes to ashes, and dust to dust, had brought mean revenge of little minds, they paid down Mr. Bragwell's self-sufficient and themselves by abuse, for all the airs and inhaughty soul into something of that humble silence they had once endured froin her. frame in which Mr. Worthy had wished to Pride must have a fall,' said one. I resee it. As soon as they returned home, he member when she was too good to speak to was beginning to seize the favourable mo- a poor body,' said another. Where are ment for fixing these serious impressions, her flounces and furbelows dow? It is come when they were unseasonably interrupted home to her at last : her child looks as if he by the parish officer, who came to ask Mr. would be glad of the worst bit she formerly Bragwell what he was to do with a poor dy- denied us.' ing woman who was travelling the country. In the mean time Mr. Bragwell had sunk with her child, and was taken in a fit under into an old wicker chair which stood behind, the church-yard wall ? At first they and groaned out, •Lord, forgive my hard thought she was dead,' said the man, but heart! Lord, subdue my proud heart, cre- · finding she still breathed, they have carried ate a clean heart, O God! and renew a her into the workhouse till she could give right spirit within me.' This was perhaps some account of herself.'

the first words of genuine prayer he had Mr. Bragwell was impatient at the inter-lever offered up in his whole life. Worthy ruption, which was indeed unseasonable, and overheard it, and in his heart rejoiced ; but told the man that he was at that time too this was not a time for talking,but doing. He much overcome by sorrow to attend to busi- asked Brogwell what was to be done with ness, but he would give him an answer to the unfortunate woman, who now seemed miorrow. But, my friend,' said Mr. Wor- to recover fast, but she did not see them, for thy, the poor woman may die to-night; they were behind. She embraced her boy, your mind is indeed not in a frame for world- and faintly said, “My child, what shall we ly business; but there is no sorrow too great do? I will arise and go to my father, and to forbid our attending the calls of duty, An say unto him, father, I have sinned against act of Christian charity will not disturb, but heaven and before thee.' This was a j yful improve the seriousness of your spirit; and sound to Mr. Worthy, who was inclined to though you cannot dry your own tears, God hope that her heart, might be as much may in great mercy permit you to dry those changed for the better as her circumstances of another. This may be one of those oc- were altered for the worse ; and he valued casions for which I told you life was worth the goods of fortune so little, and contrition keeping. Do let us see this woman,' of soul so much, that he began to think the

change on the whole might be a happy one. I would follow a mountebank, carry a diceThe boy then sprung from his mother, and box, or fiddle at a fair. He was always ran to "Bragwell, saying, Do be good to taunting me for that gentility on which I so mammy. Mrs. Incle looking round, now much valued myself. If I had married a perceived her father ; she fell at his feet, poor working girl,' said he, she could now saying, () forgive your guilty child, and have got her bread; but a fine lady without save your innocent one from starving !'- money is a disgrace to herself, a burthen to Bragwell sunk down by her, and prayed her husband, and a plague to society,' EveGod to forgive both her and himself in terms ry trial which affection might have made of genuine sorrow. To hear words of real lighter, we doubled by animosity: at length penitence and heart-felt prayer from this my husband was detected in using false dice; once high-minded father and vain daughter, he fought with his accuser, both were seized was music to Worthy's ears, who thought by a press-gang, and sent to sea. I was now this moment of outward misery was the only left to the wide world ; and miserable as I joyful one he had ever spent in the Bragwell had thought myself before, I soon found family.

there were higher degrees of misery. I was He was resolved not to interfere, but to near my time, without bread for myself, or let the father's own feelings work out the hope for my child. I set out on foot in way into which he was to act.

search of the village where I had heard my Bragwell said nothing, but slowly led to husband say his friends lived. It was a sehis own house, holding the little boy by the vere trialtómy proud heart to stoop to those hand, and pointing to Worthy to assist the low people; but hunger is not delicate, and fecole steps of his daughter, who once more I was near perishing. My husband's paentered her father's doors ; but the dread of rents received me kindly, saying, that though Seeing her mother quite overpowered ler.- they had nothing but what they earned hy Mrs Bragwell's heart was not changed, but their labour, yet I was welcome to share sorrow had weakened her powers of resist-their hard fare; for they trusted that God ance; and she rather suffered her daughter who sent mouths would send meat also.to come in, than gave her a kind reception. They gave me a small room in their cottage, She was more astonished than pleased; and and furnished me with many necessaries, even in this trying moment, was more dis- which they denied themselves.' gusted with the little boy's meau clothes, "O! my child ! interrupted Bragwell, than delighted with his rosy face. As soon every word cuts me to the heart. These as she was a little recovered, Mr. Bragwell poor people gladly gave thee of their little, desired his daughter to tell him how she while thy rich parents left thee to starve.' happened to be at that place just at that "How shall I own,'continued Mrs. Incle, time.

that all this goodness could not soften my In a weak voice she began; 'My tale, sir, heart; for God had not yet touched it. I is short, but mournful.' -Now, I am very received all their kindness as a favour done sorry that my readers must wait for this to them; and thought them sufficiently reshort, but mournful tale, a little longer, warded for their attentions by the rank and

merit of their daughter-in-law. When my father brought me home any little dainty

which he could pick up, and my mother PART VII.

kindly dressed it for me, I would not conde

scend to eat it with them, but devoured it MRS, INCLE'S STORY,

sullenly in my little garret alone ; suffering 'I LEFT your house dear father,' said them to fetch and carry every thing I wantMrs. Incle, with a heart full of vain tri-ed. As my haughty behaviour was not likeumph. I had no doubt but my husband was ly to gain their affection, it was plain they a great man, who had put on that disguise did not love me : and as I had no notion that to obtain my hand. Judge then what I felt there were any motives to good actions but to find that he was a needy impostor, who fondness, or self-interest, I was puzzled to wanted my money, but did not care for me. know what could make them so kind to me; This discovery, though it mortified, did not for of the powerful and constraining law of humble me. I had neither affection to bear Christian charity I was quite ignorant. To with the man who had deceived me, nor cheat the weary' hours, I looked about for religion to improve by the disappointment. some books, and fourd, among a few others I have found that change of circumstances of the same cast, Doddridge's Rise and does not change the heart, till God is pleased Progress of Religion in the Soul.' But all to do it. My misfortune only taught me to those sort of books were addressed to sinrebel more against him. I thought God ners; now as I knew I was not a sinner, I unjust; I accused my father, I was envious threw them away in disgust. Indeed they of my sister, I hated my husband; but never were ill suited to a taste formed by play's once did I blame myself.

and novels, to which reading I chiefly trace My husband picked up a wretched sub-my ruin ; for, vain as I was, I should never sistence by joining himself to any low schem have been guilty of so wild a step as to run of idle pleasure that was going on. He away, had not my heart been tainted and

my imagination inflamed by those perni-joh! with what new eyes did I read it! I 16 cious books,

now saw clearly, that not only the thief and • At lergth my little George was born. tie drunkard, the murderer and the adulThis added to the burthen I had brought on terer are sinners, for that I knew before; this poor family, but it did not diminish their but I found that the unbeliever, the selfishi, kindness; and we continued to share their the proud, the worldly-minded, all, in short, scanty fare without any upbraiding on their who live without God in the world, are sinpart, or any gratitude on mine. Even this ners. I did not now apply the reproofs I poor baby did not soften my heart ; I wepi met with to my husband, or my father ; or over him, indeed, day and night, but they other people, as I used to do; but brought were tears of despair; I was always idle, them home to myself. In this book I traced, and wasted those hours in sinful murmurs with strong emotions and close self-applicaat his fate, which I should have employed in tion, the sinner through all his course; his trying to maintain him. Hardship, grief, tirst awakening, his convictions, repentance, and impatience, at length brought on a fe- joys, sorrows, backsliding, and recovery, ver. Death seemed now at hand, and I felt despondency, and delight, to a triumphant a gloomy satisfaction in the thought of being death-bed; and God was pleased to make it rid of my miseries, to which I fear was add-a chief instrument in bringing me to himself. ed a sullen joy, to think that you, sir, and · Here it is,' continued Mrs. Incle, untymg my mother, would be plagued to hear of my her little bundle, and taking out a book; death when it would be too late ; and in this accept it, my dear father, and I will pray your grief I anticipated a gloomy sort of re- that God may bless it to you, as He has venge. But it pleased my mercitul God not done to me. to let me thus perish in my sins. My poor “When I was able to come down, I passed mother-in-law sent for a good clergyman, my time with these good old people, and soon who pointed out to me the danger of dying won their affection. I was surprised to find in that hard and unconverted state so forci- they had very good sense, which I never had bly, ihat I shuddered to find on what a dread- thought poor people could have ; but, inful precipice I stood. He prayed with me, deed, worlly persons do not know how and tor me so earnestly, that at length God, much religion, while it mends the heart, enwho is sometimes pleased to magnity his own lightens the understanding also. I now reglory in awakening those who are dead in gretted the evenings I had wasted in my sotrespasses and sins, was pleased of his free litary garret, when I might have passed grace, to open my blind eyes, and soften nay them in reading the Bible with these good stony heart. I saw myself a sinner, and folks. This was their refreshing cordial alprayed to be delivered from the wrath of ter a weary day, which sweetened the pains God, in comparison of which the poverty of want and age. I one day expressed my and disgrace I now suffered appeared as no surprise that my unfortunate husband, the thing. To a soul convinced of sin, the news son of such pious parents, should have turned of a Redeemer was a joyful sound. Instead out so ill: the poor old man said with tears, of reproaching Providence, or blaming my I fear we have been guilty of the smo?. parents, or abusing my husband, I now learnt Eli; our love was of the wrong sort. Alas: to condemn myself, to adore that God who like him, we honoured our son more than had not cut me off in my ignorance, to pray God, and God has smitten us for it. We for pardon for the past, and grace for the showed him, by our example, what was time to come. I now desired to submit to right; but through a false indulgence, we penury and hunger, so that I might but live did not correct him for what was wrong. in the fear of God in this world, and enjoy We were blind to his faults. He was a his favour in the next, I now learnt to com- handsome boy, with sprightly parts: we took pare my present light sufferings, the conse- too much delight in these outward things, quence of my own sin, with those bitter sut- He soon got above our management, an ferings of my Saviour, which he endured for became vain, idle, and extravagant ; an my sake, and I was ashamed of murmuring. I when we sought to restrain him, it was then But self-ignorance, conceit, and vanity were too late. We humbled ourselves beto? so rooted in me, that my progress was very God; but he was pleaseil to make ours" gradual, and I had the sorrow to feel how become its own punishment. mma much the power of long bad habits keeps grew worse and worse, till he was forced to down the growth of religion in the heart, abscond for a misdemeanor; after w even after the principle itself has begun to we never saw him, but have often heard

life to take root. I was so ignorant of divine him changing from one idle way of lite to

een a things, that I hardly knew words to frame a/another ; uns able as water, he has bee prayer'; but when I got acquainted with the footman, a soldier, a shopman, a gamo

mbler, Psalms, I there learnt how to pour out the and a strolling actor. With deep sort fulness of my heart, while in the Gospel I we trace back his vices to our ungover rejoiced to see what great things God had fonduess ; that lively and sharp wit,, done for my soul.

which he has been able to carry on such a I now took down once more from the variety of wild schemes, might, it shelt • Doudridge's Rise and Progress ;' andlused him to bear reproof in his youth,"

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