enabled him to have done great service for | God and his country. But our flattery made him wise in his own conceit; and there is more hope of a fool than of him. We indulged our own vanity, and have destroyed his soul.'

could you think of such a scandalous thing?' Sir,' said Mrs. Incle mildly, I am now convinced that nothing is scandalous which is not wicked. Besides, we were in want; and necessity, as well as piety, would have reconciled me to this mean trade.' Mr. Bragwell groaned, and bade her go on.

him; and I trusted that I should be rewarded for every painful act of self-denial, by the future virtue and happiness of my child. Can you believe it, my dear father, my days now passed not unhappily; I worked hard

Here Mr. Worthy stopped Mrs. Incle, saying, that whenever he heard it lamented In the mean time my little George grew that the children of pious parents often turn-a fine boy; and I adored the goodness of ed out so ill, he could not help thinking that God, who in the sweetness of maternal love, there must be frequently something of this had given me a reward for many sufferings. sort of error in the bringing them up: he Instead of indulging a gloomy distrust about knew, indeed, some instances to the contra- the fate of this child, I now resigned him to ry, in which the best means had failed; but the will of God. Instead of lamenting behe believed, that from Eli the priest, to Incle cause he was not likely to be rich, I was rethe labourer, much more than half the fai-solved to bring him up with such notions as lures of this sort might be traced to some might make him contented to be poor. I mistake, or vanity, or bad judgment, or sin- thought if I could subdue all vanity and selfful indulgence in the parents. ishness in him, I should make him a happier I now looked about,' continued Mrs. In-man than if I had thousands to bestow on ole, 'in order to see in what I could assist my poor mother; regretting more heartily than she did, that I knew no one thing that was of any use. I was so desirous of humbling myself before God and her, that I offered even to try to wash.'-You wash!' ex-all day, and that alone is a source of happiclaimed Bragwell, starting up with great ness beyond what the idle can guess. After emotion, Heaven forbid, that with such a my child was aleep at night, I read a chapfortune and education, miss Bragwell should ter in the Bible to my parents, whose eyes be seen at a washing-tub.' This vain father, now began to fail them. We then thanked who could bear to hear of her distresses and God over our frugal supper of potatoes, and her sins, could not bear to hear of her wash-talked over the holy men of old, the saints, ing. Mr. Worthy stopped him, saying, As and the martyrs, who would have thought to her fortune, you know you refused to our homely fare a luxury. We compared give her any; and as to her education, you our peace, and liberty, and safety, with see it had not taught her how to do any their bonds, and imprisonment, and torthing better. I am sorry you do not see, in tures; and should have been ashamed of a this instance, the beauty of Christian hu-murmur. mility. For my own part, I set a greater value on such an active proof of it, than on a whole volume of professions.'-Mr. Bragwell did not quite understand this, and Mrs. Incle went on. What to do to get a penny I knew not. Making of filagree, or fringe, or card-purses, or cutting out paper, or dancing and singing was of no use in our village. The shopkeeper, indeed, would have taken me, if I had known any thing of accounts; and the clergyman could have got me a nursery-maid's place, if I could have 'Whether my father-in-law had worked done good plain-work. I made some awk- beyond his strength, in order to support me ward attempts to learn to spin and knit, and my child, I know not, but he was tawhen my mother's wheel or knitting lay by, ken dangerously ill. While he lay in this but I spoilt both through my ignorance. At state, he received an account that my huslast I luckily thought upon the fine netting I band was dead in the West-Indies of the yelused to make for my trimmings, and it low fever, which has carried off such numstruck me that I might turn this to some bers of our countrymen: we all wept tolittle account. I procured some twine, and gether, and prayed that his awful death worked early and late to make nets for fish- might quicken us in preparing for our own. ermen, and cabbage-nets. I was so pleased This shock, joined to the fatigue of nursing that I had at last found an opportunity to her sick husband, soon brought my poor show my good will by this mean work, that mother to death's door. I nursed them both, I regretted my little George was not big and felt a satisfaction in giving them all Í enough to contribute his share to our sup-had to bestow, my attendance, my tears, port, by travelling about to sell my nets.' and my prayers. I, who was once so nice Cabbage-nets!' exclaimed Bragwell; and so proud, so disdainful in the midst of there is no bearing this.-Cabbage-nets! plenty, and so impatient under the smallest My grandson hawk cabbage-nets! How inconvenience, was now enabled to glorify VOL. I.

23

We then joined in prayer, in which my absent parents and my husband were never forgotten, and went to rest in charity with the whole world, and at peace in our own souls.'

"Oh! my forgiving child!' interrupted Mr. Bragwell, sobbing; and didst thou really pray for thy unnatural father? and didst thou lay thee down in rest and peace? Then, let me tell thee, thou wast better off than thy mother and I were.-But no more of this; go on.'

God by my activity and by my submission. Ismote me, to think how I had daily sat down Though the sorrows of my heart were en- at home to a plentiful dinner, without any larged, I cast my burthen on Him who cares sense of thankfulness for ray own abunfor the weary and heavy laden. After ha- dance, or without inquiring whether my ving watched by these poor people the poor sick neighbours were starving: and I whole night, I sat down to breakfast on my sorrowfully remembered, that what my dry crust and coarse dish of tea, without a murmur: my greatest grief was, lest should bring away the infection to my dear boy; for the fever was now become putrid. I prayed to know what it was my duty to do between my dying parents and my helpless child. To take care of the sick and aged, seemed to be my first duty; so I offered up my child to Him who is the father of the fatherless, and he in mercy spared him to

me.

The cheerful piety with which these good people breathed their last, proved to me, that the temper of mind with which the pious poor commonly meet death, is the grand compensation made them by Providence for all the hardships of their inferior condition. If they have had few joys and comforts in life already, and have still fewer hopes in store, is not all fully made up to them by their being enabled to leave this world with stronger desires of heaven, and without those bitter regrets after the good things of this life, which add to the dying tortures of the worldly rich? To the forlorn and destitute, death is not so terrible as it is to him who sits at ease in his possessions, and who fears that this night his soul shall be required of him.'

poor sister and I used to waste through daintiness, would now have comfortably fect myself and child. Believe me, my dear mother, a labouring man who has been brought low by a fever, might often be restored to his work some weeks sooner, if on his recovery he was nourished 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, an.1 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,

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 Mr. Bragwell felt this remark more deep-my eye mournfully on my child; and though ly than his daughter meant he should. He wept, and bade her proceed.

This

prayer had relieved my heart of a load which without it would have been intolerable, my I followed my departed parents to the tears flowed fast, while I cried out in the bitsame grave, and wept over them, but not as terness of my soul, How many hired serone who had no hope. They had neithervants of my father have bread enough, and houses nor lands to leave me, but they left to spare, and I perish with hunger. me their Bible, their blessing, and their ex- text appeared a kind of answer to my prayample, of which I humbly trust I shall feel er, and gave me courage to make one more the benefits when all the riches of this world attempt to soften you in my favour. I reshall have an end. Their few effects, con- solved to set out directly to find you, to consisting of some poor household goods, and fess my disobedience, and to beg a scanty some working-tools, hardly sufficed to pay pittance, with which I and my child might their funeral expenses. I was soon attack-be meanly supported in some distant couned with the same fever, and saw myself, as try, where we should not, by our presence, I thought, dying the second time; my dan-disgrace our more happy relations. We set ger was the same, but my views were chan-out and travelled ás fast as my weak health ged. I now saw eternity in a more awful and poor George's little feet and ragged light than I had done before, when I wick-shoes would permit. I brought a little bunedly thought death might be gloomily called dle of such work and necessaries as I had upon as a refuge from every common trou- left, by selling which we subsisted on the ble. Though I had still reason to be hum-road.'-I hope,' interrupted Bragwell, ble on account of my sin, yet, by the grace there were no cabbage-nets in it?'- At of God, I saw death stripped of his sting least,' said her mother, I hope you did not and robbed of his terrors, through him who sell them near home?'-No; I had nene loved me, and gave himself for me; and in left, said Mrs. Incle, or I should have done the extremity of pain, my soul rejoiced in it. I got many a lift in a wagon for my God my Saviour. child and my bundle, which was a great reI recovered, however, and was chiefly lief to me, as I should have had both to carry. supported by the kind clergyman's charity. When I felt myself nourished and cheered by a little tea or broth, which he daily sent me from his own slender provision, my heart

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 fittle cheap chari-now says to Corruption, thou art my father, ties may be considered as the cup of cold and to the worm, thou art my mother and water, which, if given on right grounds, my sister. Look to the bloody and brainless shall not lose its reward.' Here Bragwell head of her husband. O, Mr. Worthy, how sighed to think that when mounted on his does Providence mock at human foresight! fine bay mare, or driving his neat chaise, it I have been greedy of gain, that the son of had never once crossed his mind that the Mr. Squeeze might be a great man; he is poor way-worn foot traveller was not equal-dead; while the child of Timothy Incle, ly at his ease, nor had it ever occurred to whom I had doomed to beggary, will be my him that shoes were a necessary accommo- heir. Mr. Worthy, to you I commit this dation. Those who want nothing are apt to boy's education; teach him to value his imforget how many there are who want every mortal soul more, and the good things of this thing, Mrs. Incle went on: 'I got to this life less than I have done. Bring him up in village about seven this evening; and while the fear of God, and in the government of I sat on the church yard wall to rest and me-his passions. Teach him that unbelief and ditate how I should make myself known at pride are at the root of all sin. I have found home, I saw a funeral; I inquired whose it this to my cost. I trusted in my riches; I was, and learnt it was my sister's. This was said, "to-morrow shall be as this day and too much for me, and I sank down in a fit, more abundant." I did not remember that and knew nothing that happened to me from for all these things God would bring me to that moment, till I found myself in the work- judgment. I am not sure that I believed in house with my father and Mr. Worthy.' a judgment: I am not sure that I believed in a God.'

Here Mrs. Incle stopped. Grief, shame, pride, and remorse, had quite overcome Mr. Bragwell at length grew better, but he Bragwell. He wept like a child, and said never recovered his spirits. The conduct he hoped his daughter would pray for him; of Mrs. Incle through life was that of an for that he was not in a condition to pray humble Christian. She sold all her sister's for himself, though he found nothing else finery which her father had given her, and could give him any comfort. His deep de-gave the money to the poor; saying, 'It did jection brought on a fit of sickness. "O not become one who professed penitence to said he, I now begin to feel an expression return to the gayeties of life.' Mr. Bragin the sacrament which I used to repeat well did not oppose this; not that he had fulwithout thinking it had any meaning, the re-ly acquired a just notiou of the self-denying membrance of my sins is grievous, the bur-spirit of religion, but having a head not very then of them is intolerable. O! it is awful to clear at making distinctions, he was never think what a sinner a man may be, and yet able, after the sight of Squeeze's mangled retain a decent character! How many thou-body, to think of gayety and grandeur, withsands are in my condition, taking to them-out thinking at the same time of a pistol and selves all the credit of their prosperity, in-bloody brains; for, as his first introduction stead of giving God the glory! heaping up into gay life had presented him with all these riches to their hurt, instead of dealing their objects at one view, he never afterwards bread to the hungry! O! let those who hear could separate them in his mind. He even of the Bragwell family, never say that va- kept his fine beaufet of plate always shut; nity is a little sin. In me it has been the because it brought to his mind the grand unfruitful parent of a thousand sins-selfish-paid-for sideboard that he had seen laid out ness, hardness of heart, forgetfulness of God. for Mr. Squeeze's supper, to the rememIn one of my sons, vanity was the cause of brance of which he could not help tacking rapine, injustice, extravagance, ruin, self- the idea of debts, prisons, executions, and murder. Both my daughters were undone self-murder. by vanity, though it only wore the more

Mr. Bragwell's heart had been so buried harmless shape of dress, idleness, and dissi-in the love of the world, and evil habits had pation. The husband of my daughter Incle become so rooted in him, that the progress it destroyed, by leading him to live above he made in religion was very slow; yet he his station, and to despise labour. Vanity earnestly prayed and struggled against sin ensnared the souls even of his pious parents, and vanity; and when his unfeeling wife defor while it led them to wish to see their son clared she could not love the boy unless he in a better condition, it led them to allow was called by their name instead of Incle, such indulgences as were unfit for his own. Mr. Bragwell would never consent, saying ()! you who hear of us, humble yourselves he stood in need of every help against pride. under the mighty hand of God; resist high He also got the letter which Squeeze wrote thoughts; let every imagination be brought just before he shot himself, framed and glainto obedience to the Son of God. If you set zed; this he hung up in his chamber, and a value on finery look into that grave; be-made it a rule to go and read it as often as hold the mouldering body of my Betsey, who he found his heart disposed to VANITY,

'TIS ALL FOR THE BEST.*

'It is all for the best,' said Mrs. Simpson, (made her appearance conform to her cirwhenever any misfortune befel her. She cumstances) being very different from the had got such a habit of vindicating Provi-dress she had been used to wear when Mrs. dence, that instead of weeping and wailing Betty has seen her dining at the great house; under the most trying dispensations, her and time and sorrow had much altered her chief care was to convince herself and others, countenance. But when Mrs. Simpson that however great might be her sufferings, kindly addressed her as an old acquaintance, and however little they could be accounted she screamed with surprise-'What! you, for at present, yet that the Judge of all the madam?' cried she: you in an alms-house, earth could not do but right. Instead of try-living on charity: you, who used to be so ing to clear herself from any possible blame charitable yourself, that you never suffered that might attach to her under those misfor- any distress in the parish which you could tunes which, to speak after the manner of prevent? That may be one reason, Betmen, she might seem not to have deserved, ty,' replied Mrs. Simpson, why Providence she was always the first to justify Him who has provided this refuge for my old age.— had inflicted it. It was not that she super- And my heart overflows with gratitude when stitiously converted every visitation into a I look back on his goodness. No such punishment; she entertained more correct great goodness, methinks,' said Betty; ' why ideas of that God who overrules all events. you were born and bred a lady, and are now She knew that some calamities were sent to reduced to live in an alms-house. Betty, I exercise her faith, others to purify her was born and bred a sinner, undeserving of heart; 'some to chastise her rebellious will, the mercies I have received.' 'No such and all to remind her that this was not her great mercies,' said Betty. Why, I heard rest;' that this world was not the scene, for you had been turned out of doors; that your the full and final display of retributive jus-husband had broke; and that you had been tice. The honour of God was dearer to her than her own credit, and her chief desire was to turn all events to his glory.

in danger of starving, though I did not know what was become of you." "It is all true, Betty, glory be to God! it is all true.'

Though Mrs. Simpson was the daughter 'Well,' said Betty, you are an odd sort of a clergyman, and the widow of a genteel of a gentlewoman. If from a prosperous tradesman, she had been reduced, by a suc- condition I had been made a bankrupt, a cession of misfortunes, to accept of a room widow, and a beggar, I should have thought in an alms-house. Instead of repining at it no such mighty matter to be thankful for: the change; instead of dwelling on her for- but there is no accounting for taste. The mer gentility and saying, 'how handsomely neighbours used to say that all your troubles she had lived once; and how hard it was to must needs be a judgment upon you; but I be reduced; and she little thought ever to who knew how good you were, thought it end her days in an alms-house;' which is the very hard you should suffer so much; but common language of those who were never now I see you reduced to an alms-house, I so well off before; she was thankful that beg your pardon, madam, but I am afraid such an asylum was provided for want and the neighbours were in the right, and that age; and blessed God that it was to the so many misfortunes could never have hapChristian dispensation alone that such pious pened to you without you had committed a institutions owed their birth. great many sins to deserve them; for I alOne fine evening, as she was sitting read-ways thought that God is so just that he puing her Bible on the little bench shaded with nishes us for all our bad actions and rewards honeysuckles, just before her door, who us for all our good ones.' 'So he does, Betshould come and sit down by her but Mrs.ty; but he does it in his own way, and at his Betty, who had formerly been lady's maid own time, and not according to our notions at the nobleman's house in the village of of good and evil; for his ways are not as our which Mrs. Simpson's father had been minister.-Betty, after a life of vanity, was, by a train of misfortunes, brought to this very ams-house; and though she had taken no care by frugality and prudence to avoid it, she thought it a hardship and disgrace, instead of being thankful, as she ought to have been, for such a retreat. At first she did not know Mrs. Simpson; her large bonnet, cloak, and brown stuff gown (for she always

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

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.

THE WORKS OF HANNAH MORE.

now; but how totally would our faith fail, if | best; Providence overruled his covetousness we regularly saw every thing made even in for my good. I could not have been happy this world. We shall lose nothing by having with a man whose soul was set on the perishpay-day put off. The longest voyages make able things of this world; nor did I esteem the best returns. So far am I from thinking him, though I laboured to submit my own that God is less just, and future happiness inclinations to those of my kind father. The less certain, becanse I see the wicked some- very circumstance of being left pennyless times prosper, and the righteous suffer in produced the direct contrary effect on Mr. this world, that I am rather led to believe Simpson: he was a sensible young man, enthat God is more just and heaven more cer-gaged in a prosperous business: we had long tain: for, in the first place, God will not put highly valued each other; but while my faoff his favourite children with so poor a lot ther lived, he thought me above his hopes, as the good things of this world; and next, We were married; I found him an amiable, seeing that the best men here below do not industrious, good-tempered man; he respecoften attain to the best things; why it only ted religion and religious people; but, with serves to strengthen my belief that they are excellent dispositions, I had the grief to find not the best things in His eye; and He has him less pious than I had hoped. He was most assuredly reserved for those that love ambitious, and a little too much immersed in Him such good things as eye has not seen worldly schemes; and though I knew it was nor ear heard. God, by keeping man in all done for my sake, yet that did not blind Paradise while he was innocent, and turning me so far as to make me think it right. He him into this world as soon as he had sinned, attached himself so eagerly to business, that gave a plain proof that he never intended he thought every hour lost in which he was the world, even in its happiest state, as a not doing something that would tend to raise place of reward. My father gave me good me to what he called my proper rank. The principles and useful knowledge; and while more prosperous he grew the less religious he taught me by a habit of constant em- he became; and I began to find that one ployment, to be, if I may so say, indepen-might be unhappy with a husband one tendent on the world; yet he led me to a con-derly loved. One day as he was standing stant sense of dependence on God.' I do not on some steps to reach down a parcel of see, however,' interrupted Mrs. Betty, goods he fell from the top and broke his leg 'that your religion has been of any use to in two places.' What a dreadful misfortune !' said Mrs. you. It has been so far from preserving you from trouble, that I think you have had Betty.—'What a signal blessing!' said Mrs. Simpson. Here I am sure I had reason to more than the usual share.' 'No,' said Mrs. Simpson; nor did Chris-say all was for the best; from that very hour tianity ever pretend to exempt its followers in which my outward troubles began, I date from trouble; this is no part of the promise. the beginning of my happiness. Severe sufNay, the contrary is rather stipulated; infering a near prospect of death, absence the world ye shall have tribulation.'-But if from the world, silence, reflection, and it has not taught me to escape sorrow, I hum-above all, the divine blessings on the praybly hope it has taught me how to bear it. ers and scriptures I read to him, were the If it has taught me not to feel, it has taught means used by our merciful Father to turn me not to murmur. I will tell you a little of my husband's heart.-During this confinemy story. As my father could save litttlement he was awakened to a deep sense of or nothing for me, he was very desirous of his own sinfulness, of the vanity of all this seeing me married to a young gentleman in the neighbourhood, who expressed a regard for me. But while he was anxiously engaged in bringing this about, my good father died.'

As my

world has to bestow, and of his great need of a Saviour. It was many months before he could leave his bed; during this time his business was neglected. His principal clerk took advantage of his absence to receive large sums of money in his name, and absconded. On hearing of this great loss, our creditors came faster upon us than we could answer their demands; they grew more impatient as we were less able to satisfy them; one misfortune followed another; till at

'How very unlucky!' interrupted Betty. 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. Re-length Mr. Simpson became a bankrupt.' "What an evil!' exclaimed Mrs. Betty. ligion,' returned Mrs. Simpson. "We were forced to father made a creditable appearance, and Yet it led in the end to much good,' resuwas very charitable; and as I was an only med Mrs. Simpson. child, this gentleman concluded that he leave the town in which we had lived with could give me a considerable fortune; for so much credit and comfort, and to betake he did not know that all the poor in his pa- ourselves to a mean lodging in a neighbourrish are the children of every pious clergy-ing village, till my husband's strength should man. Finding I had little or nothing left me, be recruited, and till we could have time to What a sad look about us and see what was to be done. he withdrew his attentions.' thing!' cried Betty. No, it was all for the The first night we got to this poor dwelling,