his power to raise into credit all the parish offices, which have fallen into disrepute by getting into bad hands; and he can convert, what have been falsely thought mean offices, into very important ones, by his just and Christian-like manner of filling them. An upright juryman, a conscientious constable, a humane overseer, an independent elector, an active superintendent of a work-house, a just arbitrator in public disputes, a kind counsellor in private troubles; such a one, I say, fills up a station in society, no less necessary, and, as far as it reaches, scarcely less important, than that of a magistrate, a sheriff of a county, or even a member of parliament. That can never be a slight or a degrading office, on which the happiness of a whole parish may depend."

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Bragwell, who thought the good sense of his friend reflected credit on himself, encouraged Worthy to go on; but he did it in his own vain way. 'Ay, very true, Mr. Worthy," said he, “you are right; a leading man in our class ought to be looked up to as an example, as you say in order to which, he should do things handsomely and liberally, and not grudge himself or his friends any thing;" casting an eye of complacency on the good dinner he had provided." True," replied Mr. Worthy, "he should be an example of simplicity, sobriety, and plainness of manners. But he will do well," added he, "not to affect a frothy gentility, which will sit but clumsily upon him. If he has money, let him spend prudently, lay up moderately for his children, and give liberally to the poor. But let him rather seek to dignify his own station by his virtues, than to get above it by his vanity. If e acts thus, then, as long as this country lasts, a farmer of England will be looked upon as one of its most valuable members; nay more, by this conduct, he may contribute to make England last the longer. The riches of the farmer, corn and cattle, are the true riches of a nation; but let him remember, that though corn and cattle enrich a country, nothing but justice, integrity, and religion can preserve it.”

Here one of the company, who was known to be a man of loose principles, and who seldom went to public worship, said he had no objection to religion, and was always ready to testify his regard to it by drinking Church and King. On this, Mr. Worthy remarked, that he was afraid that too many contented themselves with making this toast to include the whole of their religion, if not of their loyalty. "It is with real sorrow," continued he, " that I am compelled to observe, that though there are numberless honorable instances to the contrary, yet I have seen more contempt and neglect of Chris

tianity in men of our calling, than in almost any other. They too frequently hate the rector on account of his tithes, to which he has as good a right as they have to their farms, and the curate on account of his poverty; but the truth is, religion itself is often the concealed object of their dislike. I know too many, who, while they affect a violent outward zeal for the church, merely because they conceive its security to be somehow connected with their own political advantages, yet prove the hollowness of their attachment, by showing little regard to its ministers, and less to its ordinances."

Young Wilson, the worthy grazier, whom Miss Bragwell had turned off because he did not understand French dances, thanked Mr. Worthy for what he had said, and hoped he should be the better for it as long as he lived, and desired his leave to be better acquainted. Most of the others declared they had never heard a finer speech, and then, as is usual, proceeded to show the good effect it had on them, by loose conversation, hard drinking, and whatever could counteract all that Worthy had been saying.

Mr. Worthy was much concerned to hear Mr. Bragwell, after dinner, whisper to the waiter, to put less and less water into every bowl of fresh punch. This was his old way: if the time they had to sit was long, then the punch was to be weaker, as he saw no good in wasting money to make it stronger than the time required; but if time pressed, then the strength was to be increased in due proportion, as a small quantity must then intoxicate them as much in a short time as would be required of a greater quantity had the time been longer. This was one of Mr. Bragwell's nice calculations, and this was the sort of skill on which he so much valued himself.

At length the guests were properly primed for business: just in that convenient stage of intoxication which makes men warm and rash, yet keeps short of that absolute drunkenness which disqualifies for business, the auctioneer set to work. All were bidders, and, if possible, all would have been purchasers; so happily had the feast and the punch operated. They bid on with a still-increasing spirit, till they got so much above the value of the land, that Bragwell, with a wink and a whisper, said, "Who would sell his land fasting? Eh! Worthy?"-At length the estate was knocked down, at a price very far above its worth.

As soon as it was sold, Bragwell again said softly to Worthy, "Five from fifty, and there remain forty-five. The dinner and drink won't cost me five pounds, and I have got

fifty more than the land was worth. Spend a shilling to gain a pound; this is what I call practical arithmetic, Mr. Worthy."

Mr. Worthy was glad to get out of this scene; and seeing that his friend was quite sober, he resolved, as they rode home, to deal plainly with him. Bragwell had found out, among his calculations, that there were some sins which could only be committed, by a prudent man, one at a time. For instance, he knew that a man could not well get rich, and get drunk, at the same moment; so that he used to practise one first, and the other after; but he had found out that some vices made very good company together: thus, while he had watched himself in drinking, lest he should become as unfit to sell as his guests were to buy, he had indulged without measure in the good dinner he had provided. Mr. Worthy, I say, seeing him able to bear reason, rebuked him for this day's proceedings with some severity. Bragwell bore his reproofs with that sort of patience which arises from an opinion of one's own wisdom, accompanied by a recent flush of prosperity. He behaved with that gay good humor which out of united vanity and good fortune. "You are grows too squeamish, Mr. Worthy," said he: "I have done nothing discreditable. These men came with their eyes open. There is no compulsion used. They are free to bid, or to let it alone. I make them welcome, and I shall not be thought a bit the worse of by them to-morrow, when they are sober. Others do it besides me, and I shall never be ashamed of any thing, as long as I have custom on my side."

Worthy. I am sorry, Mr. Bragwell, to hear you support such practices by such arguments. There is not, perhaps, a more dangerous snare to the souls of men than is to be found in that word custom. It is a word invented to reconcile corruption with credit, and sin with safety. But no custom, no fashion, no combination of men to set up a false standard, can ever make a wrong action right. That a thing is often done, is so far from a proof of its being right, that it is the very reason which will set a thinking man to inquire if it be not really wrong, lest he should be following a multitude to do evil.” Right is right, though only one man in a thousand pursues it; and wrong will be forever wrong, though it be the allowed practice of the other nine hundred and ninety-nine. If this shameful custom be really common, which I can hardly believe, that is a fresh reason why a conscientious man should set his face against it. And I must go so far as to say (you will excuse me, Mr. Bragwell), that I see no great difference, in the eye of conscience, whatever there may be in the eye of law, between your making a man

first lose his reason, and then getting fifty guineas out of his pocket because he has lost it; and your picking the fifty guineas out of his pocket, if you had met him dead-drunk in his way home to-night. Nay, he who meets a man already drunk, and robs him, commits but one sin; while he who makes him drunk first that he may rob him afterwards, commits two.

Bragwell gravely replied, "Mr. Worthy, while I have the practice of people of credit to support me, and the law of the land to protect me, I see no reason to be ashamed of any thing I do."-"Mr. Bragwell," answered Worthy, "a truly honest man is not always looking sharp about him, to see how far custom and the law will bear him out: if he be honest on principle, he will consult the law of his conscience; and if he be a Christian, he will consult the written law of God. never deceive ourselves more than when we overreach others. You would not allow that you had robbed your neighbor, for the world, yet you are not ashamed to own you have outwitted him. I have read this great truth in the works of a heathen, Mr. Bragwell, that the chief misery of man arises from his not knowing how to make right calculations."

We

Bragwell. Sir, the remark does not belong to me: I have not made an error of a farthing. Look at the account, sir: -right to the smallest fraction.

Worthy. Sir, I am talking of final accounts, spiritual calculations, arithmetic in the long run. Now, in this your real Christian is the only true calculator: he has found out that we shall be richer in the end, by denying than by indulging ourselves. He knows, that when the balance comes to be struck, when profit and loss shall be summed up, and the final account adjusted, that whatever ease, prosperity, and delight we had in this world, yet if we have lost our souls in the end, we cannot reckon that we have made a good bargain. We cannot pretend that a few items of present pleasure make any great figure, set over against the sum total of eternal misery. So you see it is only for want of a good head at calculation, that men prefer time to eternity, pleasure to holiness, earth to heaven. You see, if we get our neighbor's money at the price of our own integrity; hurt his good name, but destroy our own souls; raise our outward character, but wound our inward conscience; when we come to the last reckoning, we shall find that we were only knaves in the second instance, but fools in the first. In short, we shall find that, whatever other wisdom we possessed, we were utterly ignorant of the skill of true calculation.

Notwithstanding this rebuff, Mr. Bragwell got home in

high spirits, for no arguments could hinder him from feeling that he had the fifty guineas in his purse.

There is to a worldly man something so irresistible in the actual possession of present, and visible, and palpable pleasure, that he considers it as a proof of his wisdom to set them in decided opposition to the invisible realities of eternity.

As soon as Bragwell came in, he gayly threw the money he had received on the table, and desired his wife to lock it up. Instead of receiving it with her usual satisfaction, she burst into a violent fit of passion, and threw it back to him. "You may keep your cash yourself," said she. "It is all over we want no more money. You are a ruined man! A wicked creature! scraping and working as we have done for her!" Bragwell trembled, but durst not ask what he dreaded to hear. His wife spared him the trouble, by crying out, as soon as her rage permitted, "The girl is ruined; Polly is gone off!" Poor Bragwell's heart sunk within him; he grew sick and giddy; and as his wife's rage swallowed up her grief, so, in his grief, he almost forgot his anger. The purse fell from his hand, and he cast a look of anguish upon it, finding, for the first time, that money could not relieve his misery.

Mr. Worthy, who, though much concerned, was less discomposed, now called to mind, that the young lady had not returned with her mother and sister the night before he begged Mrs. Bragwell to explain this sad story. She, instead of soothing her husband, fell to reproaching him. "It is all your fault," said she: " you were a fool for your pains. If I' had had my way, the girls would never have kept company with any but men of substance, and then they could not have been ruined." "Mrs. Bragwell," said Worthy, "if she has chosen a bad man, it would be still a misfortune, even though he had been rich." "O, that would alter the case," said she: 66 a fat sorrow is better than a lean one. But to marry a beggar! there is no sin like that." Here Miss Betsy, who stood sullenly by, put in a word, and said, her sister, however, had not disgraced herself by having married a farmer or a tradesman; she had, at least, made choice of a gentleman. "What marriage! what gentleman!" cried the afflicted father. "Tell me the worst!" He was now informed that his darling daughter was gone off with a strolling player, who had been acting in the neighboring villages lately. Miss Betsy again put in, saying, he was no stroller, but a gentleman in disguise, who only acted for his own diversion. "Does he so?" said the now furious Bragwell; "then he shall be transported for mine."