Full text of "Religious courtship, being historical discourses on the necessity of marrying religious husbands and wives only; as also of husbands and wives being of the same opinions in religion with one another. With an appendix: Of the necessity of taking none but religious servants, and a proposal for the better managing of servants"

3^4 

Religious Court fhip, 

4% B E I N 

HISTORICAL 

DISCOURSES, 

O N T H E 

Neceffi ty of Marry ing Religious 

Husbands and Wives only. 

AS ALSO 

Of Husbands and Wives being of 
the fame Opinions in Religion with one 
another. 



With an APPENDIX 

Of the Nece/Tity of taking none but 
Religious Servants, and a Propofal for the 
better managing of Servants. ..... 

;;.; --pe- ) 

The SECOND EDITION, Correded. 

LONDON: 

tinted for E. M A T T H E w s, at the Bible * and A. 
B E T T E s w o RT H, at the Red-Lyon in Pater-ncfter- 
Ro-w; and J. BROTH ERTON, at the Bible in 
Corn hi I. M DCC xxix. 





THE 

PREFACE 

LS this way of Writing in Cafes 
not much unlike this, has been 
approv d of, and has met with 
great Succefs in other Hands $ 

It has keen an Encouragement to this 

Undertaking. 

HifloricaJ T^ialogues^ it mujl be con- 
fefs d, haw a very taking Elegancy in 
them y and the Story being handed for* 
ward in Jhort tperiods, and quick Re~ 
turns, makes the retaining it in the 
Mind the eajier, and the Imprejfion the 
more lafting, as well as delight juL 

A 2 The 



The PREFACE. 

The Story reprefented here is capable 
of fuch, and fo many ^Applications to the 
Cafes of young ^People^ whofe Settlement 
is always in Fiew, that there will never 
be a Time when the Injtruction will be 

tifelefs. 
j j 

If any Body JlooiiU objetf, that too 
much is put hereupon the Woman s ^Part, 
and that a Lady cannot be Juppos d in 
the midjt of her Lover s \AddreJfes, to 
take upon her^ to demand fuch an die* 
eotmt of himCelf as is here fuppeftedi 

J J J J OO J~ 

that few Men willjtoop to fuch an Exa 
mination 5 and few Women venture the 
Lofs of their Lovers upon fuch a Subjeff. 
Let fuch conjider, how Jmall the Satif- 
fatiion here proposd on the Ladys Part 
is, and that no Gentleman can think 
bar d a Woman Jhould be fatisfyd, whe 
ther he is a Chrijlian or a Heathen-, a 
Man of Religion or an Atheift 3 and 
mdeed y no Man of any tolerable Share of 
Senfe, will addrefs himfelf to a Lady 



The PREFACE. 

for Marriage, but he will take care to 
anticipate her Inquiries of that Kind, 
by Jhewing feme Concern, for knowing 
whatjhe is herfelf. 

The nniverfal Negletf of this ^Trifle, 
both in Men and Women, is what this 
Book is dejlgnd to correct, and there 
needs no greater Satyr upon that fart, 
than the Succefs of the federal Cafes here 
related: (Viz.) The happy Life of the 
youngejl Sifter who came into the Mea- 
fures propofed^ and the miferable Con 
dition of the fecond Sifter, who rajhly 
threw herfelf into the Arms of a Man 
of differing Principles from her own, 
tho bleft with all the good Humour in 
the World. 

In thefe Accounts^ the very great 
Confequence of being equally yok d, is il- 
lujlrated ^ and it appears here how ef- 
fentia/a Share of Religion, and a Har 
mony of Principles in Religion^are to the 
Felicity of a Conjugal Life. 

fo 



The PREFACE. 

jTo thofe who do not cajl off all con 
cern for thcmfefaes 3 who do not make 
marrying a mere Leap in the ffiark, 
and as the jirjl Lady exprejfes it, a 
nijloing like a Horfe into the ^Battle, 
thefe things will be of feme Moment. 
As to thofe that are void of Care of thefe 
Matters, they mitjl go on, and pay for 
their Experience, let them take heed^ 
and buy it as cheap as they can. . 

If the Women feem to be favoured in 
this Story, and have the better ^Part of 
the Staff put into their Hands , it is 
becaiife really the Hazard is chiefly on 
their Side, and they are generally the 
greatejt Sufferers in the Succefs 5 but if 
it were otherwife, yet^ if they are treat 
ed with more than ordinary Regard, 
the Atithor hopes they will not lay that 
Sin to his Charge. 

The Appendix to this Work^ fpeaks 
for it felf: Irreligious Servants in Jbme 
Refpeffs, are the TJague of Families, 

and 



The PREFACE. 



and keep ourHoufes always t 
*Tis a wonderful Thing to refleff on y 
that fo fcandalotts an E*vil, fo eajy to 
lie rectify d,Jhould have gone on to fitch 
a Degree as it has in the World 5 and 
that Majters and ]VLijlreJ/es of Fami 
lies, have not long ago for their own 
Eafe, and for the Satisfaction of one 
another, come to a General Law, for 
the managing, the punifoing, and above 
all, for the recommending of Servants 5 
which if they would do, they would eajl^ 
ly, I fay, bring them to know them- 
fehes, and do their "Duty 3 neither of 
which is the cafe among Servants at 
this Time. 

But tis all our own Faults 5 we re 
commend Sluts, and Thieves, and 
^Drones, and faucy, infolent Fellows, 
and Wenches : I fay, we recommend 
them one to another, without any Con 
cern for our Neighbour s Safety or 
Teace 5 in a Word, to pay the T)ebt of 
Qharityfor thofe Creatures, which have 

abusd 



The PREFACE. 

abusd ns r we forget the "Debt ofjtiftice 
to one another, and betray the Confidence 
which one Houfe-keeper and Neighbour 
owes to another, in one of the mojt ejfen- 
tial Articles of their Families ^uict. 

This is all expos d here; and tho this 
^art is very Jhort, being but an Ac 
cident to the other ^ifcourfes 5 yet, I 
prefume to Jhy y it will be as accept able , 
and in its Kind, as ufeful as any of the 
rejt. 

fThis Second Edition of this Work y 
recommends it felf upon this Exprefs 
Condition, viz. fhat the Author has 
not found Occajion to alter any thing in 
the Firjl (Errors oftheTrefs except ed) 
nor have I found Room for any Addi 
tions, that ujual pretence to Jet off Ne&lt;w 
Imprejfions, and impofe upon thofe who 
have bought the Jirjt 5 being Jlill fully 
fatisfy dj the goodnefs of the jDeJign y 
and the tifefulnefs of the Subjeff, will 
make the Work acceptable where-ever it 
comes* 

Religious 




ReJigiousCOURTSHlP. 



PART I. 



fe*| H E ,R E liv d in a Village near Low* 
dow, an ancient grave Gentleman of a 
good Eftate, which he had eain d 

O J O 

by Trade, having been bred a Mer 
chant, tho 3 of a very good Family 
too; he had been a Man in great 
Bufinefs, but his Circumftances being eafy, and his 
Love of a retir d Life increafihg with his Years, 
he had left off his Bufmefs, and taken a Houfe a 
Mile or two out of Town ; he was a Widower at 
the Time of this Affair, his Wife having been dead 
Ibme Years before. 

B He 



03 

He had five or fix Children, and all grown 
but none fettled in the World, tho s he had an 
Eftate fufficient to give them very plentiful For 
tunes. His three Daughters were very agreeable 
Women, and, which was ftill better, were very 
ibber, modeft, fenfible and religious young Ladies, 
two of them efpecially j and as the Character of 
their Father, and the Fortune he was able to give 
them, recommended them very well to the World ; 
fo they had ieveral Gentlemen that made honoura 
ble and handlbme Propofals to their Father for their 
Marriage. 

I fhall moft carefully avoid giving any room 
here fb much as to guefs what Opinion in Reli 
gion they were bred up in, or whether the old 
Gentleman was a Churchman or a Diffenter ; and 
the fame Caution I fhall ufe with all the reft of 
the Perfons whom I fhall bring upon the Stage in 
the Courfe of this Story : My Reafbn for which 
every Body will underftand by the Nature of the 
Relation, and of the Times we live in. 

The Father of thefe Ladies had been a Man al 
ways, till now, hurried in the World , being crowd 
ed with a vaft Bufmefs, taken up with getting 
Money, and with growing rich - 3 fo that he neither 
had much Concern for, or indeed took any Care 
of the Education or Inftrudion of his Children, 
but left them wholly to the Conduct of their Mother. 
Nor was it any great Lofs to the Children, efpe- 
cially to the Daughters, their Mother being a moft 
pious, religious and virtuous Lady, who was not 
only extraordinarily qualified to inftrucl: her Chil 
dren, but gave up her whole Time to it from their 
Childhood. 



One 



] 

One Morning, a little before her Death, call? 
her Daughters to her, ihe told them, among other 
Things, That as to Marriage, fhe had but two In 
junctions to lay upon them, which, as Ihe was not 
Jikely to live to fee them fettled, fhe would defire 
them to lay down as Maxims in the Choice of their 
Husbands - 3 and which fhe would, as upon her 
Death-bed, if her Words had any extraordinary 
Influence upon them, oblige them to obferve 
fiddly, &lt;viz. 

| 

1. Never to Marry any Man, whatever his Per- 
fon or Fortune might be, that did not at leaft^ profefs 
to be a Religious Man. 

2. Never to marry any Man y how religions foever 
Ije may feem to be, if lie was not of the fame Prin 
ciples and Opinion in Religion as themfefoes. 

And as this was but a little before her Death, fb 
the Daughters were more than ordinarily touch d 
with the Senfe of it, and refblv d to purfue it ex- 
a&Jy. How they did purfue it, and the Confe- 
quences of it, will be feen in the following Dia 
logues. 

It followed fbme time after, that a Gentleman of 
a very good Eftate courted the youngeft of thefe 
Daughters ; and making very handfbme Propofals 
to her Father, (/br be offer d to fettle 600 1. per 
Annum upon her) the Father was exceedingly pleaied 
with the Match ; he being a Gentleman thoroughly 
well bred , an agreeable Perfon, and, in a Word, no 
thing appearing to give the leaft Reafbn, why he 
fhould not be as acceptable to the Lady as he was to 
the Father, 

B * As 



As he came thus recommended to the Father, 
there appeared nothing difagreeable in it to the 
young Lady -, nor had fhe at his firft Appearance 
the leaft Exception to make againft the Gentle 
man as to his Perfon : Indeed, as to his Eftate, 
tbo t her Fortune was very handfome, yet his was fo 
far beyond it, that there was no Companion in 
the Cafe; and befides all this, fhe had this en 
gaging Circumftance in the Propofal, &lt;viz. That fhe 
being the youngeft of the three Daughters, the 
Gentleman had pafs d over her two eldeft Sifters, 
and had fingled her out by his more particular 
Fancy ,. giving her that undeniable Mark of his 
Affection, viz. That fhe would be the Wife of his 
Choice, and confequently that .fhe would have an 
uncommon Security of the Sincerity of his Love 
to her. 

The Father oppos d his Propofal a little at firft, 
as a Slight offer d to his eldeft Daughters j but the 
Gentleman told him, That he hop d, if he accept 
ed his Defign of coming into his Family, he wou d 
give him leave to take the Perfon his Judgment 
had made choice of, and that he thought he might 
be happy with : That it wouj^ be a very hard 
Circumftance to him, and what he could not think 
of with Patience, to marry one of his Daughters, 
and be in Love with another : That he was very 
far from offering any Slight to the eldeft, letting 
them know, that happening to fee the youngeft 
firft, he found fuch Suitablenefs, and fomething fb 
agreeable in her to him, that he refblv d to look no 
farther : That perhaps, if he had feen the eldeft 
or the fecond Daughter firft, it might have been the 
fame Thing ; but that as he could not anfwer for 
the Byafs of his Fancy, fb neither could he anfwer 
it to his own Conduft, not to choofe her, that was 

from 



from the firft Moment he faw her, the only Wo 
man in the World that he ever thought could make 
him happy. 

Her Father could make no Return to an An- 
fwer that had fo much Weight in it, and which 
appeared to be fb fincere ; and therefore not ac 
quainting his eldeft Daughters with the Defign he 
had had to propofe her to him, he took Occafion to 
talk to them all together one Morning, as they were 
drinking Chocolate , and begins merrily with them 
thus ; 



DIALOGUE I. 



Father. 




ELL, Girls ? you 
now which of you 



little think 
all is like to 



be firft married. What fay you, 
Child ? (turning to the youngeft) 
I hope you are content to let 
your eldeft Sifters go before you ? 

$d. Daughter. Yes, yes, Sir , I defife both my 
Sifters may go before me ; for I fee nothing in the 
World, to make me in hafte. 

Fa. Why ? what s the Matter that you are fb 
out of love with the World all on a fudden ? Is it 
that you think your felf too good for every body, or 
every body too good for you ? 

3^. Da. No, Sir 3 lam neither fb vain to think 
the firft, or fo humble to think the laft but I defire 
to think of my felf as I ought to think. 
Fa. How is that pray ? 

$d. Da. Why, Sir, I think I live too well to 
change for the worle, and this is not an Age to 
change for the better ; and therefore 1 defire to be 
as I am. 

B 3 Pa. Why 



Fa* Why is this Age fb much worle than that 
that went before, pray ? 

3^. Da. Nay, Sir, I don t know ; but I am very 
well iatisfied. Sir, with your firft Propofal, that my 
Sifters may try before me. 

Fa. Weil, well $ and if you go before your 
Sifters, there will be no harm done, if it be to 
your liking, I hope j I dare fay, none of your 
Sifters will be angry : at which, the two eldeft laid, 
No, no : we fhall be very glad to fee it ; and fo 
they fell to jefting with their younger Sifter, till 
they almoft anger d her. 

You are mighty difficult, fays the eldeft Sifter,, that 
you fall upon the whole World, as if there was no 
thing good enough for yon. 

Says the fecond Sifter, She will be as eafily pleasM 
as another, I warrant her, if fhe was talk d to in 
earneft ; upon which, notwithftanding their Fa 
ther was prelent, they fell to rallying one another, 
between Jeft and Earneft," a little too warmly, as 
follows : 

3&lt; Da. That may be ; as my eldeft Sifters teach 
me, I hope they intend to fet me a good Example; 
for if s their ftirn firft. 

i/?. Da. We don t know that ; if a good Offer 
comes in your Way, you ll hardly put it off^ and 
fay. Tour Betters miift go before you. 

$d. Da. For all you are both my eldeft Sifters, I 
queftion whether you underftand what a good Offer 
means j and it may be, have confider d it no more 
than I; there s a great deal in that Word. 

ift. Da. O ! Til explain it in a few Words ; a 
good Eftate, and a Man you like. 

^ zd. Da. Nay j you might have ftopt at the firft : 
it s no matter what the Man is, if the Eftate be 
but good. 

d. Da, 



01 

$d. La. Is that the Example my eldeft Sifters in 
tend to let me ? 

Fa. Ay , and a good Example too. Child. 

$d. Da. You are difpos d to jeft, Sir ; but I be 
lieve you would not be pleas d with fiich a Way of 
chufing a Husband for any of your Daughters. 

zd. Da. I hope .my Father would I am fure I 
floould. 

%d. Da. That*s *io Token to me that you have 
-coniider d much of the matter, as I fald before. 

2d. Da. Why ? What would you have befides a 
good JEftate ? What Matter is it what the Man is ? 
I would pafs by a great many homely DefecSs for a 
good Settlement. 

$d. Da. As for the homely Defetfs 9 perhaps I may 
be no nicer than you, if there was nothing elie 
wanting. 

zd. Da. What can be wanting, if there be Money 
-enough ? 

3^. Da. Nothing, I hope, when my Sifter comes 
to choofe. 

2d. Da. No ; nor when you come to choofe nei 
ther, it may be. 

$d. Da. I am afraid there will. 

zd. Da. For my part I fhall enquire for nothing 
elfe, as I know of. 

3&lt;i Da. No ! What would you have your Hus 
band have no Religion ? 

zd. Da. What have I to do with his Religion ? 
He ll be a Cbriftian, I hope. 

$d. Da. And what if he fhould not ? 

zd. Da. Nay, then he may be a Heathen and be 
will, what s that to me ? 

3d. Da. That s a Proof of what I faid before, 
that you have not confider d much of the Matter. 

B 4 2. Da. No, 



en 

zd. Da. No, indeed, not I ; but I fuppofe my 
younger Sifter has. 

3&lt;i Da. Your younger Sifter never told you fo 
yet : But methinks there requires very little Con- 
fideration, to fay, if I ever fhould marry, I would 
not have a Rake, a Heathen, a profligate Fellow, 
a Man without Religion, purely for his Money if 
you think theie Things no Objections, and are got 
over fpch Scruples in the Cafe, I muft tell you, 
Sifter, that it feems the Bufmefs has been more 
in your Head than in rpine, qr at leaft to wprie 
ptirpoie. 

zd. Da. Well, it may be fo ; and then it may 
follow, that when you have confider d more of it 
too, you will be of my Mind. 

3&lt;i Da. What, to marry an Atheift ! a Man 
of no Principles ! that knows neither God nor 
Devil ? 

zd.Da. Ay, ay; that, or anything elfe, if you 
have but a good Settlement, Child. A good Set 
tlement will make up all thofe Things ; you d take 
him I warrant you, 

3^. Da. No, Sifters nor for all that I can fe 
with my Eyes. 

2,d. Da. O, you don t know your own Mind, till 
you come to be tried , we fhall fee you tell another 
Tale hereafter. 

3^. Da. I an t Ib fond of a Husband, whatever 
my Sifter is. 

Here the Father feeing that the younger Sifter 
began to be a little mov d 3 and unwilling they fhould 
make a Quarrel of it, put an end to the Difcourfe, 
and ib they foon after withdrew anc( then the Fa 
ther being left -with the eldeft Daughter only, weut 
on with his Difcourfe thus to her. 

Fa. Child, 



Fa. Child, you are a little too hard upon your 
Sifter. 

Da. She fhould not have taken it fo, Sir ; me 
knows it is all but in jeft. 

Fa. But you do not know, whether it may be all 
in jeft or no. 

Da. Nay, Sir, I am fure all our Share in it was 
in jeft ; if there is any thing in it, I mould have 
talk d after another way *. 

Da. Nay, Sir, then I underftand how tis. 

Fa. Well) Child , how will you take it, to fee 
your youngeft Sifter married before you ? 

Da. O very well, Sir, I mail be very glad of it, 
if it be for her good : But if I were to fpeak my 
Mind, I fhould fay fomething to it about her, that a 
it may be, there may be occafion for. 

Fa. Well, pray fpeak your Mind then. 

Da. Why, Sir, for all my Sifter s bantering her, 
I muft own, our youngeft Sifter will not be eafily 
pleas d in a Husband, as Times go now. 

Fa. How do you mean. Child ? 

Da. Why, Sir, I mean, that tho ? me may be the 
firft of us, that mall be ask d, me may be the laft 
of us that will be marry d. 

Fa. Ay^ my Girl ! Is it fo with you then ! What 
have you been both making your Bargains without 
me ! And are they fb near concluding ! That s 
very hard. 

Da. Dear Father, how could you have fuch a 
Thought of us ! you are quite wrong 3 you don t 
underftand me at all. 

* Here Jke was very inquifitwe with her Father to 
know if there was any thing in it or not, at whicb 
be only fmifd* 

Fa. Nay 3 



I to ] 

Fa. Nay ; How can I underftand you any other 
way ? If it is not fb, explain your fel 

Da. Sir, I mean, that my Sifter will not be eafily 
pleas d ; {he will fcarce take the firft that comes, I 
dare fay. 

Fa. No ; then I fliall take it very ill : For I aflurc 
you, he that I mean is a very good one. 

Da. Nay, if he is a good one, it may be, fhe 
may, but tis a queftion, Sir, whether hetgood one 
and your good one may be both of a Ibrt. 

Fa. Why he has a very good Eftate, I ll aflure 
you ; far beyond what Ihe can expect. 

Da. That s a good thing , but that will go but a 
little way with ber^ I know. 

Fa. Well, he is a very handfbme, well-accom- 
plifh d, well-bred Gentleman , fhe cannot miflike 
him ; he is a moft agreeable young Gentleman I 
affure you. 

Da. That won t go a bit the farther with her 
neither, I am fure. 

Fa. Then he is in love with her, and has fingled 
her out from you all , fhe will be the Wife of his 
Affection to be fure : what can fhe defire more ? 

Da. She will defire fomething more ft ill, Sir, tho* 
the laft is a thing will go very far doubtlefs ^ far 
ther than any thing we have talk d on yet : But 
you know, Sir^ my Sifter is a very fbber, religious 
Body, and fhe will never marry any Man that is 
not fb too 3 tho his Eftate, his Perfon, his Accom- 
plifhments were beyond all the reft of the World j 
and this was the Reafon, why I faid fhe may be firft 
ask d, and laft marry d. 

Fa. Nay, I can t tell, how Matters are, as to 
that. 

Da. I ll afTure you, Sir, She will know how it is 
as to that, before fhe engages. 

Fa. Nay 9 



Fa. Nay, let her alone to that Part, that s * none 
of my Bufmefs. 

Da. "But, Sir, when you know her Mind in 
that Cafe, it may prevent your receiving any 
Difappointment, and prevent her venturing to 
difoblige you, in refufing what you may propofe 
to her. 

Fa. No, no ; I dare fay me won t refufe him - 3 
ihe is not fuch a Fool neither. 

Da. Dear Sir, then I hope you know he is a fober 
religious Gentleman. 

Fa. 1 know nothing to the contrary, my Dear ; 
I iuppofe he is. 

Da. But, Sir, it makes me anxious about it, be- 
caufe you faid jufl now, you could not tell : I hope 
you will enquire farther into it before you take any 
farther Steps about it. 

Fa. Why, Child, as to that, I dare fay, me need 
not be concerned $ he is fb good a humour d Man, 
he will never crofs her in fmall Matters, efpeci- 
ally in religious Things. Child, do you think any 
Gentleman can be angry, that his Wife is fober 
and religious ? to be fure, {he may be. as religious 
as me will. 

Da. O dear f *5Vr, my Sifter can never be fa- 
tisfy d fo, fure. 

Fa. Child, what s the matter? what makes you 
fb concern d about it ? 

* Here loe was- touched a little^ and refleffed back 
foftly to bimfelf -, O why do I fay, tis none of 
my Btifmefs? wboft Bufinefs is / f, // it is not 
mine ? 

t He obferves bis Daughter concern d at it, and that 
fears flood in her Eyes. 

Da. 5 Tis 



C i* 3 

Da. 5 Tis a fad Life, Sir, for a Woman to have 
no Help from her Hasband in Things that are good, 
but only to have Liberty for herfelf to be as good 
as fhe will, or rather as good as (he can : By the 
lame Rule fhe may be as bad as fhe will, and it may 
be, he will like her ne er the better for one, nor the 
worfe for t other. 

Fa. Well j he is a fine Gentleman, and profeffes 
a great Affection for her. 

Da. Before he has feen her^ it may be, or knows 
any thing of her. 

Fa. No, no ; he has feen her, but he has never 
been in her Company, I know. 

Da. So that I find he cares not what fhe is j he 
chufes by her Outfide only. 

Fa. He takes all the reft upon Truft. 
Da. But my Sifter won t take him fb, I can tell 
him that. 

Fa. I fhali take it very ill from her, if fhe flights 
him s for I aflure you, he is not to be flighted, he 
has very near 2000 /. a Year Eftate. 

Da. But I am fure, if he is not a religious Man, 
(he will flight him for all that ; my Meaning is, 
fhe will never have him ; I fuppofe fhe will not be 
rude to him. 

Fa. If fhe does refufe kirn, fhe and I fhall quarrel,, 
I affure you, and that very much. 

Da. I hope you won t, Sir : You will give her 
leave to chufe to her own liking , it is for her 
Life, and fhe muft bear the Difcontent of it j 
no Body can bear it for her : Befides, Sir, you 
know fhe was very religioufly inftructed by my 
Mother. 

Fa. Ay, ay $ your Mother was a good Woman. 
Da. And you know, Sir, I fuppofe , what Advice 
jmy Mother gave her upon her Death-bed, &lt;viz. 

Never 



to many a Man that was not religious, what* 
ever other Advantages might offer with him. 

Fa. And did fhe not give you the fame Advice 
too, my Dear ? 

Da. Yes to be fure, and all of us. 

Fa. Well and yet you heard what your Sifter 
laid juft now, viz. fhat Jhe would not trouble her* 
felf about It, fo there was but a good Eft ate. 

Da. But I hope my Sifter would confider better, 
if fhe came to the Queftion. 

Fa. Why, Child, would you refufe fuch a 
Gentleman, and fuch a Settlement as this is, that 
offers now to your Sifter, for fuch a Nicety as 
that ? 

Da. It will be time enough, Sir, for me to an- 
fwer that Queftion, when I am offer d fuch a one $ 
there s no Danger of me yet. 

Fa. I hope you would be wifer. 

Da. I hope. Sir, I fhould act as becomes me : 
But the Cafe is not mine now 3 // it was, I fhould 
not have begun the Difcourfe. 

Fa. Well , but did your Mother give you fuch 
Advice, Child, when fhe was /// ? 

Da. Tes, Sir , and more than Advice : For fhe 
told us, fhe would leave it as an Injunction upon 
us, as far as her dying Words could have any In 
fluence to oblige us. 

Fa. Very well : that is as much as to fay, Jhe 
had found the Inconvenience of it her felf *. 

* Here his Confcience touched him again, though lut 
/lightly, and he fetched a Sigh^ and faid foftly, If 
fhe did, it was nothing, but what fhe had too 
much Reafon to do , for fhe Jiv d but an un 
comfortable Life with me on that very Ac 
count, 

Da. Nay, 



[ Ml 

Da. Nay, indeed, Dear Father, we never put 
any fuch Conftru&ion upon it. 

Fa. And fo, my Dear, you think your Sifter will 
not like this Gentleman, do you ? 

Da. Indeed, Sir, / cannot tell, till I know what 
kind of a Gentleman, he is ; no, nor then neither j 
for how can I tell what my Sifter will like, or how 
her Fancy may lead her to act againft tier Judg 
ment, if {he mould like him very well upon feeing 
him ? 

Fa. But you believe me won t. 

Da. If he is not a very fober religious Man, I do 
think me won t , if-Jbe does, me muft break in up 
on the moft folemn Refblutions, that me is able to 
make. 

Fa. Why, will nothing ferve her but a Saint ? 
alas ! where does me think to find him ? What ! 
would me marry a Biihop ? 

. Da. Nay, Sir, if me fhould, fhe is not fure, me 
mould not be difappointed ; Minifters are but 
Men. 

Fa. No indeed, Child , nor always the beft of 
Men neither. 

Da. But, Sir, where there is a Profeflion of 
Religion, there is fbme Likelihood of finding the 
Truth of it $ but where there is no ProfefHon, 
there it cannot be. Now tho we are not obliged 
to be fure our Husbands fhould be Saints, yet 
I believe we ought to be Tatisfied, that they are 
notAtheifts: there s a great deal of Difference, Sir, 
between a Friend to Religion, and an Enemy. 

Fa. Well, well 5 the Girls of this Age do not 
much trouble their felves about Religion , they ge 
nerally let it alone, till they fee what Religion their 
Husbands are of. 

Da. Dear 



C 5 3 

Da. Dear Father, I hope your Girls are not of 
that Sort. 

Fa. My Daughters are like other Folks Daugh 
ters, / lelie&lt;ve , I hope they are not worfe 

Da. But, Sir, if that were true, then there would 
ftill be the more Reafon to take care that they 
fhould marry religious Husbands, elfe they would 
have no Religion at all. 

Fa. But how fhall you know it &gt; 

Da. We muft endeavour to be fatisfy d as well 
as we can if we are deceived, it may be our Un- 
happinefs, but will not be our Fault lut if we 
neglett the Caution, it may be a double Milery, by 
its being our Sorrow, and our Sin too. 

fa. Well, Child, I hope this Gentleman will 
pleafe your Sifler^ as well as he does me, and I 
would not have her ftand in her own Light : if he 
is not Ib religious now, it may come afterwards - y 
the Man is a fober, well-bred, ingenious Gentle 
man. 

Da, I can fay nothing to it, Sir, unlefs I knew 
him : I only take notice of the Principle, Sir, on 
which my Sifter goes, and by which I am fure 
ihe will act in this Matter, that you may not be 
diiappointed, and refent it ^ for I know ihe will not 
go from it. 

Fa. I ll warrant you : I intend to talk with her 
about it j I don t doubt but me will like him very 
well. 

Two or three Days after this Difcourfe the Fa 
ther brings home this young Gentleman to Din 
ner, and after Dinner he takes occafion to talk 
with his Daughter, and to tell her that this was 
the Gentleman that he had told her of, that in 
tended to court her, and that he expeded (he 

would 
t 



\vould think of the thing, and receive him as her 
own Inclinations and his Merit fhould diredt 

The Gentleman did not difcourfe much with her 
by her felf that Time, having no Defign to begiii 
clofely at the firft View ; however, he had the 
Opportunity of walking two or three Turns with 
her in a green Walk in the Garden, and when he 
took his Leave, told her he refolv d to wait on her 
again 3 to which fhe made him no Anfwer for that 
time. 

The next Evening he came again, and after 
that for feveral Evenings together, when having 
made her acquainted with his Defign, and laid 
clofe Siege to her for fome time, fhe found no 
thing to objeft againft him ; for he was indeed a 
moft agreeable Perfon, and her Father prefling her 
to it on the other Hand, and letting her know, 
what honourable Propofals he had made her, and 
how he had fingled her out from all her Sifters 
as the Obje& of his Choice, fhe began infenfibly 
to find her Affections very ftrongly byafs d in his 
Favour. 

All this while fhe could make no Difcovery of 
any thing about Religion in him, nor fo much as 
whether he was well inclin d, or perfectly defti- 
tute. The Refpect he fhew d her, and the Di- 
ftance fhe kept him at, permitted him not to ufe 
any loofe Expreffions, that might give her any 
Light into his Principles ; and, as he afterwards 
confefs d, he found her, fb nice in Things of that 
Kind, that the leaft diflocated Word would have 
given her an Offence and therefore he kept up 
on his Guard a great while, till at length, when 
they became more intimate, he abated his ufual 
Caution, 

By 



C ? 3 

By this Time, as ihe confefs d to her Sifter, fhe 
did not only like him, but really lov d him ; and 
having nothing to object againft him, had given 
him Reafon to fee, that ihe defign d to have him : 
But fhe was under a great Concern, how to know 
what he was as to Religion ; and terribly* afraid, 
left fhe fhould give her Affe&ions fuch a Loofe, 
that tho fhe mould be deceived in the main Point, 
fhe fhould not be able to mafter herfelf fb much 
as to go back. As fhe was mufing very ferioufly 
upon this one Morning irt her Chamber, her eldeffc 
Sifter came in tp her, and began the following Di 
courfe with her, 

Eld. Sift. Sifter ! How ftands the World with 
you now ? 

Toung. Sift* Never worfe, Sifter : If you do not 
help me I am undone. 

Eld. Sift. What s the Matter ? 

To. Sift. Why if I have this Man, I fhall be the 
miferableft Creature alive. 

Eld. Sift. Howfo? 

To. Sift. O ! there s nothing of Religion in him. 

Eld. Sift. Are you fare there is not ? 

To. Sift. No, I am not fure , but we have con- 
vers d this Month now, and I never heard one 
Word about it, come out of his Mouth ; and if I 
fpe^Jc a Word, he turns it off, and does it fo cle 
verly, that I can t put in another Word for my 
Life. 

Eld. Sift. I warrant, I would find it out, if it 
were my Cafe. 

To. Sift. You could not, I am fure. 

Eld. Sift. Why I would ask him point blank 3 
what Religion he was of? 

C K. ,5V/?. Why 



C &gt;8 

To. Sift. Why fo I did ; and he laugh d at me, 
and faid, O Cbild* I am a mighty good Cbriftian. 

Eld. Sift. I fliould have told him, I was afraid he 
wa n t. 

To. Sift. Why I did that too, in the very Words, 
and ftiH he put me off : Another time I ask d him, 
if he was not a Papift ? Immediately he fell a crof- 
fing himfelf all over, and made himfelf and me too 
fo merry at it, that tho 3 1 was really troubled about 
it, I could not for my Life get the leaft ferious 
Thing out of him. 

Eld. Sift. Why you muft let it go on a little far 
ther, till you are more intimate ; and till you 
come to talk of your Way of Living, the Affairs 
of his Family, and Houfe, and the like. 

To. Sift. Really, Sifter, I am afraid to go on any 
farther , for I muft confeft, I begin to have a ftrange 
Kindnefs for him ; and if I go any farther, I may 
love him better, till my Affection may be a Snare 
to me, and I may be prevail d with to take him 
without farther Enquiry, which I fhall have no 
Peace in. 

Eld. Sift. What will you do then &gt; 
To. Sift. I know not what to do ; I wifh you 
would try what you can make of him ; you are 
free enough with him to talk any thing of that 
kind, fure. 

Eld. Sift. I can be free enough, but that won t 
do it 3 if he is too cunning for you, he will eafily be 
too cunning for me. 

To. Sift. Why, do you think then that tis a PJ 
guife ? 

Eld. Sift. What elfe can it be ? Do you think he 
guards himfelf fo ftrictly againft all your Attempts 
for nothing ? 

To. Sift. 



[ 9 3 

To. Sift. If I thought fb, I fhould inquire no far- 
thef j it would be a plain Difcovery to me. 
Eld. Sift. Why fo ? 

To Sift. Why, if he was a ferious religious Perfbn, 
he would have no Reafbn or Occafion to conceal 
it ; if he endeavours to hide himfelf, tis for fbme~ 
thing that he would not have known, and then I 
need not ask any more after it. 

Eld. Sift. No doubt of it : you cannot think any 
other. 

To. Sift. But indeed I do think otherwife : I ve-&gt; 
rily believe it is all mere Nature, and nothing but 
the Height of good Humour ; for I have never put 
the Queftion downright to him, but in a kind of 
jefting Way. 

Eld. Sift. But why don t you then ? Why do you 
trifle and dally fb long with a Thing of fuch Con- 
fequence ? You a n t afraid of difobliging him, are 
you ? 

To. Sift. No, indeed ; I am more afraid, that his 
Anfwer will diibblige me. 

Eld. Sift. Well, well you had better have it 
difcours d now, than hereafter ; I would not be 
backward to {peak plain to him. 

To. Sift. If I talk never fo plain, he will not give 
a ferious Anfwer ; he is fb merry, I cannot bring 
him to talk ; I beg you will fee, if you can break 
in upon him. 

Eld. Sift. Come ; I ll tell you what I will do, 
which will be better a great deal than my talking 
with him by my felf : You know we fliall walk all 
together a while after Supper ; I ll begin it before 
you, and you may fpeak or not fpeak, take it in 
jeft or in earneft, as you find it proper. 

To. Sift. Do then; I think that will be very 
well. 

C 2 The 



[zo] 

The next Evening the two Sifters and this young 
Gentleman walking in the Garden, as was ufual 
after Supper, and talking of leveral. indifferent 
Things, a Servant brings the eldeft Sifter a Letter, 
which made fome little Stop in their Walk. She 
open d it, and read it , and he finding her Colour 
change a little in the Reading, ftept up to her ; 
fays he, Whafs the Matter, Sifter ? (for he always 
cail d her Sifter) Tou have no bad News, I hope ? 
frilly , fays fhe, oneway tis no bad News , and another 
way tis. And turning to her Sifter, fhe fays, Sir 
James is dead. He was a little concerned to hear 
fome of the Family was dead, left it fhould grieve 
his Miftrefs. But fhe, without any Appearance of 
Trouble, return d, Well, fmce tis the Diffofal of Pro- 
vidence^ I am not grieved , for my Aunt is delivered 
from oneof the worft good Plusbands, that everafober 
Woman had. He took hold of that Word prefently, 
and ftill directing his Speech to her Sifter, faid, 
Worft good Husbands! What Myftery is that? Why 
truly, fays the Sifter, the thing is too true : Sir James 
was a very good Husband in his Humour, and in 
leveral other Things , but my Lady had a dreadful 
Life with him. Why^ fays he, that may he very true $ 
a Man may be a very good Husband in one thing^ and 
be very unkind in another , ifs owing much to the Dif~ 
agreement of tempers. The young Lady s Sifter was 
difappointed in his Anfwer ; for fhe expefted he would 
have enquired into the Particulars, but he put it 
off, as a Thing, that did not concern him much ; at 
which the younger Sifter look d at her and fmil d, 
which was as much as to tell her, that fhe had 
found now, that what me had told her was true $ 
namely, that fhe would not fee it eafy to break in 
upon him. She took the Hint, and refolved fhe 
would try the beft of her Skill, and me found it 

foon 



C * 3 

foon apfwer*d her End : fo fhe returned to him 
very fmartly, No, no, Sir, fays fhe. It was not at 
all from Disagreement of tempers in this Cafe , it was 
worfe a great deal, it was Difagreement of Princi 
ples 5 for the Gentleman was of a very good femper, 
I ajfure you. fhen if he had a good wife^ returns 
he, hejhould have made it his firft Principle to have 
been obliging and good temper d to his Wife. Alas ! 
fays the Lady, lie had no Religion, and foe is the 
moft pious religious Lady in the World. It may be 
then, fays he, jhe had enough for her and her Huf- 
band too. Her being religious, faid fhe, made his 
Want of it an unfufferable Burden to her : Then fhe 
was to blame, fays he, for what need Ihe have been 
uneafy at that ? Not uneafy ! fays fhe, How is it 
pojfible a religious Woman can live comfortably with 
an irreligious propbane Husband ! O very well, fays 
he again ; What fi^nifies it to a Woman, whether 
her Husband have any Religion or no ? I have bet 
ter Thoughts of you, fays foe, than to believe you 
fpeak as you think, or that you would be under- 
flood fo. 

Her Sifter had Jiftened very attentively to all 
this, and was fenfibly affe&ed with it, but had faid 
nothing till now, when fhe turned upon her Sifter. 
Why Sifter, fiys fhe, Jhouldyon think fo ? I hope Mr. 
fays nothing but what he is very fencere in. 
Do you think he has not his Religion to choofe as well 
as other young Gentlemen ? Madam, fays he. How 
J/jonld I choofe my Religion, that have not chofcn me a 
Wife ? Then you are for chufmg you a Wife firft, 
fays his Miftrefs, and your Religion afterwards ? 
Why, Madam, lays he, Don Y all the Gentlemen in 
England dp fo too ? I don t know what they do, 
but I know what they ought to do. 

C * She 



r 

She was now too well fatisfied of what jfhe fear d 
before, and her Mind was fo opprefs d with it, that 
fhe was not able to hold ; but making an Excufe 
to take her Sifter s Letter, and go in and tell her 
Father the News of the Death of his Brother-in- 
Jaw, fhe left her Sifter to walk with her Lover, 
and went up into her Chamber, and locking herfelf 
in, fhe gave vent to her Paffions by crying vehe 
mently a great while : When fhe had recover d her 
felf, and confider d that fhe was obliged in Civility 
to go down again, fhe compofed her Thoughts, 
and kneeling down, pray d to God to fortify her 
Soul in the Refblutions fhe had always taken, never 
to join herfelf to any Man, that did not acknow 
ledge God, and profefs to fear and ferve him j and 
in this Temper fhe went down to him again. 

She was with him after that, fome Hours in the 
Evening, as ufual ; but he obferv d fhe was not 
eafy nor free : At length fhe told him, that up 
on this Occafion of a Relation being dead, it was 
proper for the Family, and decent to their Father, 
that they fhould make fome little Alteration in 
their Conduct, and defir d he would not take it ill, 
that fhe retired from him fooner than fhe us d to 
do. This he could not object againft, and accor 
dingly he took his Leave, believing that her Unea- 
finefs was nothing, but the Bufmefs of her /&gt; unt s 
being a Widow, which, tho , as fhe faid, fhe was 
not much concern d for, yet feveral things about 
it, might take up her Thoughts, fo as to make her 
not ib perfectly eafy, or fb good Company as fhe 
was before. 

But he was quite out in his Guefs for her Un- 
eafmefs was of another kind, and fhe had nothing 
now lay upon her Mind, but how fhe fhould dif- 
charge herielf entirely of his Importunities, and 

yet 



C n ] 

yet without being rude and uncivil to him, and 
without difobliging her Father ; for fhe was firmly 
refolved in her Mind never to fee him more. 

When fhe had thus taken her Leave of him, fhe 
went up into her Chamber, fending her Maid to 
defire her Sifter to come up, and ordering the Ser 
vant to excufe her to her Father for not coming to 
Supper, for fhe was indifpofed. 

As foon as her Sifter came into her Chamber, 
fhe ran to her in the greateft Paffion imaginable, 
and throwing her Arms about her Neck, O Sifter, 
fays fhe, help me but out of this wretched Bufinefs, 
and fll never come into the like as long as Ili&lt;ve. She 
faid no more, but hung about her, crying violently 
a great while. 

Sift. What can I do for you, Child ? You know 
111 do any thing I can. 

To. Sift. Don t you fee how it is now ? Was I not 
right in my Sufpicion ? 

Sift. I am afraid you are : I don t know what to 
fay to it. 

To. Sift. Say to it ! I would not marry him, if he 
was Lord High Treafurer of Britain. 

Sift. What will you do then ? How will you put 
him off? 

To. Sift. Put him off! let him put himfelf off, and 
he will ; I have no more to fay to him. 

Sift. Nay, you muft have more to fay to him^ 
you muft tell him fb. 

To. Stft. Not I ; I ll never fee him more. 

Sift. Child, you muft not be rude to him ^ you 
don t want Manners. 

To. Sift. I would not be rude to him, that s it I 
want your Help for. 

C 4 fijt. What 



Sift. What can I do in it ? I cannot go down to 
him, when he comes, and tell him you will fee him 
no more : you cannot defire me to carry fuch a 
MefTage. 

To. Sift. No, that s true, I can t ; I know not 
what to do, not I. 

Sift. Shall I fpeak to my Father to do it ? 

To. Sift. I think my Father is the fitteft to give 
him his Anfwer ; he brought him firft on, and I 
think he fliould put him off 

Sift. But he will be in fuch a Rage, I hardly dare 
fpeak of it to him. 

To. Sift. Dear Sifter, he won t be angry with 
you j his Anger will be all at me. 

Sift. You know, Sifter, my Father s Infirmity, 
that if he is angry with any body, he is angry with 
every body , I know he ll ufe me very ill, if I 
break it to him. 

To. Sift. What (hall I do then? I ll be gone, if I 
never come home again, while I live. 

Sift. No, no, you fhan t be gone whither will 
you go ? 

To. Sift. I beg of you. Sifter, fpeak to my Father 
about it. 

Sift. What (hall I fay? If he calls foryou, will 
you come down ? 

To. Sift. If I muft, I will j but keep it off if you 
can. 

fbe eldeft Daughter goes down to her Father a little 
before Supper j and as focn as befaw her y he began 
the Difcourfe. 

Fa. Child, what s the Matter with your Sifter ? 
Her Maid tells me fhe is not well : Have you feen 
her? 

Da. Yes, 



CM] 

Da. Yes, Sir $ I came juft from her j fhe is not 
very well. 

fa. What ails her ? She muft not be fick now, 
whatever fhe does : why it s ominous to be fick, 
when fhe is a wooing. 

Da, I believe fhe is ficker of that, than of any 
thing elfe, Sir 5 if fhe was deliver d from her Gen 
tleman, ihe would be well enough. 

Fa. What do you mean ! why I intend they (hall 
be married the Week after next : The Writings are 
a drawing, and 1 defign d by and by to have given 
her a hundred Pounds towards buying her VV ed- 
ding Cloaths. 

Da. You may adjourn that a while. Sir j fhe 
has chang d her Mind. 

Fa. Chang d her Mind ! what do you * mean ! 

Da. Dear Father, do not be angry with me , tis 
no Bufinefs of mine j I had rather lay no more of 
it, for I fee it will put you in a PaiHon : But why 
ihould you be in a Paffion with me ? 

Fa. Not in a Paflion ! who can but be in a Paf 
fion with all of you ? chang d her Mind, fay you ! 
Ay j and I ll change my Mind too j I ll never give 
her a Groat ; no not a Shilling to any other Man, 
that I ll promife her. 

Da. I dare fay, Sir, ihe has no other Man in her 
View. 

Fa. What does (he mean then ! is fhe mad ! to 
ruin herfelf thus, and ftand in her own Light ! 
does Ihe ever expect to have fuch another Offer ? 

Da. No, I believe not. Sir j nor does fhe de- 
fire it. 

* fhe Father rifes up in a great PaJJion, and walks 
about ibe Room. 

Fa. No, 



f 

Fa. No, nor ever (hall : I ll marry again, as old 
as I am, and give away what 1 have to Strangers, 
before I ll give it to Children that lhall treat me 
thus. 

Da. Will you pimifh, Sir, the Innocent with the 
Guilty ? 

Fa. Why you are all guilty, for ought I know : 
what do you come with fuch a Story for ? where is 
fhe ? call her down, 

Da. Sir, fhe is very much indifpofed ; if you 
would pleafe to let her alone till To-morrow, fhe 
may be better able to ipeak for herfelf, and you 
may not be fb much in a Paflion with her. 

Fa. Well, let her alone till Morning, then ; I 
fuppofe fhe ll change her Mind again by that Time. 

Da. I am forry, Sir, to fee you take it fo ill of 
her $ but I dire fay, fhe will be the fame To-mor 
row, and as long as fhe lives. 

Fa. Well- then I ll be of the fame Mind too 
To-morrow. 

The eldeft Sifter went up, after Supper, to her 
Sifter s Chamber, who waited for her, impatient 
enough. As fbon as fhe came, fhe gave her Sifter 
an Account of what Difcourfe fhe had had with 
her -Father, and how angry he was ; which, tho 
it terrified and affli&ed her very much, yet it did 
not move her at all, to alter her Refolutions; and 
fhe endeavourd, as well as fhe could, to furnifh her 
felf with Anfwers to give her Father when he fhould 
begin with her. But whether it was, that her Fa 
ther was impatient to hear what fhe had to fay, or 
that fhe believing he would not meddle with it 
till Morning, came unwarily in his Way, is not 
material j but happening to fee her the fame Night, 

he 



E&gt;7] 

he call d her in to him, and told her, he wanted to 
fpeak with her. 

He began very mildly with her, which a little 
encouragd her ; forjbe wasfomethingfurprtz^d at his 
beginning to talk, before jhe expefled it, and taking 
her by the Arm, feels for her PuKe. What s the 
Matter with you, Child ? fays her Father ; they 
told me you wa n t well ; I think your Pulfe beats 
very true. 

Da. I am better, Sir, now ; but I was very much 
out of Order. 

Fa. Only a little in Love, my Dear, that s all, 
I hope. 

Da. No indeed, Sir j the contrary to an Ex- 
tream, as I fuppofe my Sifter has told you. 

Fa. Your Sifter, Child ! I can lay no Strefs on 
any thing fhe faid ; I cannot tell whether Ihe was 
in j eft or in earneft. 

Da. Sir, I am very forry, that what fhe faid is 
difobliging, and more, that it fhould put you into 
a Paffion : I hope, when you confider of it, you 
will be of the fame Mind with me. 

Fa. What do you mean, Child, by the fame 
Mind ? I have recommended a Gentleman to you, 
whom you can have no Objection againft, and his 
Eftate is double to what you can expeft : you told 
me your felf, that you had no Objection againft 
his Perfbn, and he has made you his Choice, and 
is in Love with you above all your Sifters $ what 
can you defire more ? 

Da. All that you fay, Sir, is true ; and for his 
Perfon and Eftate, they are both better than I ought 
to expect. But 



Fa. But 



Fa. But what ? Prithee, Child, don t bring any 
of your canting Scruples to me, I ll hear none of 
your Buts . 

Da. It was my Fear that you would be in a Paffion, 
Sir, and would not hear me. [She cries. 

Fa. What Father can bear to be fo treated, and 
not be in a Paffion ? what would you have me 
hear? 

Da. Sir, I would have you hear the Reafons 
why I cannot comply. 

Fa. It is enough to me to hear you cannot : the 
Reafons I have for the Match are good, you ac 
knowledge the Gentleman is agreeable, you can 
not fay that you cannot love him, and I am fure 
then you cannot give a good Reafbn againft it ; 
and therefore I expeft you go on with it, I have 
appointed the Week after next for your Wedding, 
and here, there s fome Money to buy you Cloaths. 
[_Holds out a Bank Bill to her. 

Da. Sir, I beg you will not take it ill, that I can 
not do it. [She pulls back her Hand from the Bill. 

Fa. What do you mean? I advife you not to play 
the Fool with me any longer *. 

Da. Sir, this ferns to be a Hardfhip that never 
was put upon any one before : if I was going to 
marry any one you did not like, it was, no doubt, 
in your Power to command me not to do it, but I 
cannot think you ought to command me to marry 
any Man againft my Will. 



* Here the Father being In a great Paffion^ her Sifter^ 
who was in fain for her^ hearing him loud^ came 
in j which greatly eucouragd her^ and fie fpoke, 
though very refpe ft fully, to her Father , yet witb 
great Plainnefs. 

Fa. I 



Fa. I have a great many Reafons, why I ought 
to expect your Compliance in this, aad you know 
my Reafons are good. 

Da. You cannot then but think, Sir, that I have 
fbme Reafons againft it, or I fhould comply with 
my Father ; for I never diibbeyed you before, and 
why fhould not my Reafons be heard ? 

Fa. I know you can have no Reafons, that are 
fufficient. 

Da. Will you pleafe to let any one elfe be Judge 
of that for me ? 

Fa. I will have no Arbitrators between me and 
my Children. 

Da. I cannot help my felf in that. 

Fa. My Difpute with you is fhort : will you have 
this Gentleman., or no ? 

Da. If it was not to my Father, I fhould give a 
different Anfwer ; but I defire to lay nothing that 
may diipleafe you. 

Fa. I can t be difpleas d with Words, fb much as 
I am by A6tions : The Gentleman has made his 
way through every thing, made Propofals too great 
for any Father to refufe ; you have entertain d him, 
fhew d him a great deal of Refpect, and now to 
treat him thus, and treat your Father thus, tis in 
tolerable. 

Da. When the Gentleman and you treated of 
this Matter, it was without me , I had no Know 
ledge of it, neither was it my Part to be concerned. 

Fa. Well, I know that. 

Da. After you were agreed, you bring him to 
me : I fuppofe this to be, that I might converfe 
with him, and fee if I lik d to make him my 
Choice : if this was not the Cafe, you might as 
well by your Command have order d me to many 
him the fir ft Day, as now, 

Fa. Well 



Fa. Well 3 what do you make of all this ? 

Da. Upon frequent Vifits made me, I found ncn 
thing difagreeable in him, and fhew d him as much 
Refpect as was my Part ; I hope I have not fhew d 
him more than became me. 

Fa. Yes, truly, if you refolve not to have him. 

Da. Let him reproach me with that, if he can. 

Fa. Why fhould you have entertain d him at all, 
If you rcfolved not to have him ? 

D a. I did not for fbme time refolve not to have 
him, till I diicover d him farther , and it was your 
Command, that put me firft upon the Tryal, and 
my Reafbns againft it now are good, if you pleale 
to hear them patiently ; but I ll rather bear all you 
pleafe to lay on me, than put you into Paflions at 
me. 

Fa. I deiire no Reafbns, nor no Difcourfe j an- 
fwer me the Queftion in fhort, whether you will 
have him or no ? it will raife my Paffion lefs, than 
your impertinent Reafbns. 

Da. If it muft be fb, Sir, without hearing any 
Reafbns, then my Anfwer is, A70, never while / 
live i and I leave my Reafbns for it, to him that 
judges righteous Judgment. 

Fa. Then from this time forward you are no Re 
lation of mine, any more than my Cook-maid *. 

Eld. Da. Dear Father, do not fay fo. 

Fa. Nay., it s no Matter whether me heard nie, 
or no $ I ll keep my Promife with her. 

Eld. Da. I hope you won t, Sir ; it may be, my 
Sifter may be better advifed, or you may be farther 
latisfied of her Reafbns. 

* fbe young Lady was too full to fay any &lt; more , and 
out of th$ Room ivtyle be was fpeakmg. 

Fa. I 



Fa. I know her Reafbns well enough ; he is noc 
Hypocrite enough for her, I fuppofe 3 if a fkwn-&gt; 
ing frnooth-tongu d Fellow would come and talk 
Scripture to her, fhe would take himprefently -, fhe 
does not know what Religion is. 

Eld. Da. Sir, if that were true, fhe would have 
ftronger Reafbns for deliring a religious Husband, 
than (he may haye now ; that me might have a kind 
Inftruclor to aflift her : we have all need of Helps 
that way at leaft we need no prophane Husbands 
to keep us back ; a loofe, irreligious Husband is a 
dreadful Snare, 

This was a Night of Pafiion, and little was done 
all the Evening by the Father but to make Work 
for Repentance. He was fb provok d at his 
Daughter, that he made terrible Refolutions againft 
her, that he would never give her a Farthing, that 
he would turn her out of doors , that fhe fhould go 
to Service, that he would make his Will, and 
whatever he left to the reft of his Children, it 
fhould be upon Condition, that they fhould never 
relieve her, nor own her, nor call her Sifter, and 
that if they did, what they had fhould go to his 
eldeft Son, and the like. 

He v/as fo difturbed, that he got but little Sleep 
all Night, and in the Morning he was obliged to 
go out of Town early to his Sifter s, about 40 Miles 
off, whofe Husband was juft dead - y fb that he did 
not fee his youngeft Daughter any more before he 
went ; but juft as he was ftepping into his Chariot, 
he call d his eldeft Daughter to him, Wbat^ fays he, 
Child, is to be done in this Affair while I am gone ? 
She won t be fb rude to turn him off, while I am 
away, will (he ? Indeed, Sir, fays the Daughter, / 
am perplexed about it , / know not how it will be ma- 



) lut I believe foe will fee him no wore. Not 
fee him ! fays the Father, that s the unmannerlieft 
Thing in the World : Sure me 1 won t be fb rude 
to me ihe might give me the Opportunity to put 
an End to it handfomly. Pray tell ber, I expert 
it, and I affure you, ifjbe refufes to fee him *till my 
Return, fll never fee her more as long as I live. 

In this Temper the Father went away : The eld- 
eft Daughter, poor Lady, had her Heart full with 
fuch a Meffage, and fcarce knew how to deliver it ; 
however, upon talking farther v/ith her Sifter the 
fame Morning, and finding her inflexible, and per 
haps more ftiff, than fhe thought me needed to be, 
flie did at laft deliver it ; their Dialogue was ihort, 
but effectual, as follows , 

Eld. Sift. Dear Sifter, what will you do in this 
Matter ? My Father is gone. 

To. Sift. What can I do ? I think my Father is 
very unkind to me. 

Eld. Sift. My Father is paflionate, you know. 

To. Sift. But not to hear me, not to ask my Rea- 
fons, this is very hard ! Do any Fathers marry their 
Daughters by Force ? 

Eld. Da. Why, I ll tell you what my Father fays 
to that j he fays, he knows your Reafons before 
hand, and he thinks them of no Weight. 

To. Sift. Dear Sifter, Do you think them of no 
Moment ? 

Eld. Sift. It s hard for a Daughter to make herfelf 
Judge between her Father and the reft of his Chil 
dren 3 I am fbrry you are fo hard pufh d at. 

To. Sift. What would you do in my Cafe ? 

Eld. Sift. Indeed that s hard to fay too , I would 
adt as my Confcience Ihould tell me was my Du 
ty 5 



ty I confefs, there is a powerful Force in a Fa 
ther s Command. 

To. Sif. No Father can command counter to God s 
Command. 

Eld. Sif. That s true, my Dear , but confider, 
Child, how far God s Command lies on you here : 
I know your Text, Be not unequally yoKd^ and I re 
member my dear Mother s Words, that this can 
not be underftood of any thing but a religious Per- 
ion marrying with a prophane. 

To. Sif. Well, Sifter and you remember the 
Charge fhe gave us, and the Promife we made her : 
I look upon thofe Things to be very binding in 
themfelves, and very facred Engagements. 

Eld. Sif. They are binding indeed to what is our 
Duty at the fame Time, and they add Force to it, 
otherwife the Cafe would differ. 

To. Sif. Juft fo I underftand it ; and I am fure, 
Reafbn, Experience, and the Nature of the thing 
join with it : what a wretched Houfe muft there 
be, whether it be the Man or the Woman s Cafe, 
where one is a Chriftian, and t other an Infidel , 
one devout, and the other prophane ; one pious 
and religions, and the other knowing or valuing 
nothing that is ferious ? what Helps to Heaven are 
fuch to one another 1 for my part, I need no wick 
ed Difcouragements to pull me back in my Duty, 
no ill Examples to allure me to Folly, I want all 
the Affiftance poflible the other Way. 

Eld. Sif. You preach like an Oracle, Child; I 
cannot oppofe one Word you fay : But what muft 
you do ? you heard what fad raih Refblutions my 
Father made. 

To. Sif. No, I did not hear them $ and I am 
glad I did not ; but, as I am fure I am right, I 
muft do my Duty, and truft Providence ; if my 

D Father 



[34] 

Father does not do the Duty of his Relation to 
me, I ll pray to God to forgive him. 

Eld. Sift. Well, but what will you do with 
Mr. ? 

To. Sift. I have no Thought about him now ; I 
am pretty well over it. 

Eld. Sift. But you muft not be rude to him, even 
upon my Father s Account. 

To. Sift. Nay, I would not be rude to him for 
his own Sake, for I have no Quarrel at him. 

Eld. Sift. How will you avoid it, if you do not 
fee him ? 

To. Sift. See him ! I would not venture to fee 
him upon any Account. 

Eld. Sift. Child, what do you call, venture ! you 
are undone, if you don t fee him. 

To. Sift. I dare not truft my felf to fee him ; I 
am pretty well over it now, but if I fee him again, 
I know not what Influence my own WeAknefs may 
have upon my Refblution ; for I muft own to you. 
Sifter, I have no Averfion to him. 

Eld. Sift. You might as well fay, you own, you 
love him. 

To. Sift. Well, if I fhould own it, perhaps it 
might bear being call d fb , is it not better then, that 
I fhould avoid the Struggle between Conference 
and Affection ? 

Eld. Sift. But I have a ftrong Fancy, that you 
ought to enter into a clofer Difcourfe with him 
upon this Matter : I think you do not do either 
him or yourfelf Juftice elfe ; for firft, perhaps, you 
may find, that tho 3 he talk d loofely then, when 
he did not know perhaps, whether we were in Jeft 
or in Earneft, yet if you talk d lerioufly with him 
of the main Point your felf, (for you know our Dif 
courfe was at a Dtftancs^ arid was rather a kind of 

civil 



[35] 

il Raillery than Argument} you may find one of 
thefe two Things will happen, viz. either he will 
talk ferioufly, and let you fee, that he has a Bottom 
of religious good Sentiments, which is all you ought 
to infill upon, and would be a happy Difcovery on 
your fide, or talk prophanely, and be felf-convi&ed. 

To. Sift. There is more Weight in this, than in 
all you have faid yet ; but I can never do it. 

Eld. Sift. Well , let me add to it, what I was 
loth to tell you, and that is, what my Father faid 
juft now * when he went away. 

To . Sift. My Father ufes me very hardly. 

Eld. Sift. 1 am ibrry for it , but tis in No-body s 
Power to help it - 3 he would be the fame to any 
of us. 

To. Sift. What would you advife me to do then ? 

Eld. Sift. Truly, if I might advife you, 1 would 
have you fee him once more. 

To. Sift. To what Purpofe &gt; 

Eld. Sift. Why, if it be only to try, whether what 
he faid before was in jeft, or in earned. 

To. Sift. I think the Difcovery is not worth the 
Compliment. 

Eld. Sift. Really, I can t fay that. Would you 
be contented to have it true, that he is a fober and 
religioufly inclin d Gentleman ? 

To. Sift. Yes, with all my Heart. 

Eld. Sift. Is not an Eftate of near 2000 /. a Yean, 
and an agreeable Gentleman, very fuitable 3 when 
it s join d with a good Chriftian ? 

TQ. Sift. I allow it all. 

Eld. Sift. Well ; and you have really not made 
Trial enough, to refolve whether it be fb or no ? 

* She tells tier her Father s Words, which faggers her 
Resolution. 

D 2 To. Sift. 



1 



To. Sift. So you would have me fee him once 
more, to try if I can perfuade my felf to be cheat 
ed ? 

Eld. Sift. That s unkind : would I have you to 
be cheated ! No, far be it from me ! but I would 
have you leave no Room to blame your felf here 
after. 

To. Sift. You almoft perfuade me to let him come 
to Night 3 but if he does, I fhall be very ill-natur d 
to him : I queftion, whether I lhall be civil to him, 
or no. 

Eld. Sift. That is not my Propofal ; you may do 
it, and be very civil and obliging too, let the thing 
take a Turn which way it will j and I wifh you 
would try* 

To. Sift. Well, I think, I will venture then. 




D I A- 



[57] 




DIALOGUE II. 




H E young Lady, having refblv d to fee 
her Gentleman once more, at the Per- 
fuafion of her Sifter, there needed 

nothing to be done but to fit ftill till 

Evening, when he was fure to come. It feems fhe 
had refolv d to fend a Footman to him, to tell him 
fhe was gone out of Town for two or three Days, 
and fb to prevent his coming, till her Father fhould 
tell him in general, that it could not be a Match ; 
and to make it good, fhe had order d her Father s 
Coach to be ready to carry her to Hampftead^ to 
an Uncle s Houfe fhe had there , but on this Oc- 
cafion fhe deferr d it, and in the Evening he came, 
as ufual, to wait on her. It would not perhaps be 
poflible to fet down the Particulars of the Court- 
fhip of this Night, there being a great deal of Va 
riety in it, and No-body prefent but themfelves : 
But the beft Account we have of it being from her 
own Mouth, I have fet it down as fhe related it to 
her Sifter in the following Dialogue. 

As foon as the Gentleman was gone, which, his 
Entertainment being not much to his Mind, was 
fbme Hours fooner than ufual, fhe came directly to 
her Sifter, who was expe&ing her with the utmoft 
Impatience, tho 5 fhe did not look for her fb fbon 
as fhe came neither : the following Dialogue will 
give an Idea of the Whole. 

D 3 As 



Cfjf - 

As foon as fhe came to her Sifter, Ihe prevented 
tier thus : 

Well, Sifter, you have a nice Guefs with you ; 
*tis all as you faid, and the Bufinefs is now all done 
and over. 

ift. Sift. Well, before I enter into Particulars, 
are you pleafed and fatisfied ? 

$d. Sift. Perfectly fatisfied and pleafed. 

ift. Sift. Are you pleafed, that you have feen 
him ? 

id. Sift. Thoroughly pleafed : I would not but 
have feen him again for any Good. 

ift. Sift. Is it as you expected ? 

$d. Sift. Ay, ay, juft as I expected ; a true Gen 
tleman, perfectly educated, politely bred, that 
knows about as much of Religion as a Parfons Horfe, 
that is to fay, knows the Way to the Church Door ; 
but fcorns to debauch his Breeding with fuch a 
clumfey thing as Religion $ is more a Gentleman, 
than to trouble himfelf with the Meanneffes of 
Religion, and not Hypocrite enough to pretend 
to the fublimer Parts of it ; one that has not been 
long enough in this World to think of the next, 
nor is yet come to any Refolution about when he 
Shall 

ift. Sift. I am forry for it , I allure you it is not 
as I expected. 

$d. Sift. But it is as I cxpeffied I afliire you. 
ift. Sift. Well, but tho it is, I believe you are 
not forry you met him. 

3^. Sift. No, no, not at all, I allure you ; I am 
jnuch the better fatisfied that I have now the open 
Declarations of ir from his own Mouth. 

ift. Sift. You furprize me , I thought he had 
had more Policy than fo. 

id.Sift. 



3&lt; Sift. I affure you, as I as told you, he is no 
Hypocrite ; he is not afhamed to be believed to be 
fulJ as bad as he is, and made no doubt but I would 
like him the better for it. 

ift. Sift. That s hard another Way he could not 
think you were fb too, fure. 

3&lt; Sift. Why, he does not think he does any 
thing amifs, I affure you j and takes it ill to be 
thought miftaken. 

\ft. Sift. I can fcarce form all this in my Mind ; 
I wifh you would tell me ibme of the Hiftory of 
this Night s Salutation, now tis fo frefh in your 
Thoughts. 

3^. Sift. With all my Heart - 9 but it will be a long 
Story. 

ift. Sift. No matter for that, it will be the 
more profitable, and I dare fay, not the left di 
verting. 

$d. Sift. Why, after we had been together about 
half an Hour, he feem d to recoiled: hi mfelf, and 
told me^ he ask d me Pardon, that he had not con- 
dol d with me for the Lois of my Uncle Sir James 

: / told kirn, he need not, for the Lois was 

not fo great. He reply d^ He thought I appeared 
very much concern d at it laft Night, which made 
him withdraw fooner than he intended. Itoldbim^ 
I was thoughtful indeed, but not fb much about 
that for tho I believ d my Aunt was very ibrry 
for his Death, yet I thought me had no great Rea- 
fbn for I was fure me liv d a very uncomfortable 
Life with him. He wanted then very much to know^ 
what I was fo thoughtful about, if I was not 
troubled at the Lois of my Uncle : I declin d tel 
ling him, but did it in a way that I intended fhould 
prompt his Curiofity ; for I dc fired nothing more than 
to have a fair Opportunity to tell him very plainly what 
troubled me, and he foon gave it me. He told ?//&lt;?, 

D He 



r 40] 

He -took himfelf to be fb much interefted in 
now, as to be concerned in ail my Griefs - 3 and he 
claim d to know if any thing afflicted me, that he 
might bear his Share in it ; and added fomething fo 
handibm arid fb obliging on that Head, that I muft 
acknowledge it fhobk my Reiblution very much, 
and I had almoft given over my Defign ; but I re 
cover d my f elf again in a Moment or two. 

i ft. Si ft. Indeed you are a refolute Girl : 1 think 
what you repeat of him was very engaging. 

$d.Stft. I told him, it was natural for People to 
make fudden Tranfitions from other People s Cafe 
to their own, and that indeed that was the Occa- 
fion that made me fb uneafy : I knew my Aunt was 
a Lady of great Piety and Virtue, that every one 
knew to be exceedingly religious arid ferious j 
that on the other hand. Sir James was a mad, fro- 
lickfom, merry Fellow ; that neither underftood 
any Religion, or troubled himielf about it, but 
would play a thoufand mad Tricks with her, be- 
caule of her ftrid: Obfervation of religious Things , 
and that this gave her a confront Uneafmefs : He 
finird, and faid, he hop d I was not afraid of him 
on that Score for. Madam, fays he, tho I pretend 
to no Religion ^nyfelf, I cannot but refpeffi them that do. 
This was the firft, and I think a confiderable Con 
firmation of what we had before j was it not, Sifter ? 

i ft. Sift. I am forry to hear it , but I ll tell you 
however, there was one thing that I obferve to be 
a good Foundation for Religion, &lt;viz. That he re- 
ipe&ed them that were religious. 

$d. Sift. Ay, Sifter 5 but we did not end here : 
I told him I was very forry to hear him lay Joe had 
no Religion himfelf , becaufe, as perhaps I had not a 
great deal, to marry a Man that had none, would 
endanger my lofing what I had, and I fhould ra 
ther 



ther have a Husband to help me on towards Hea 
ven, than to pull me back. 

if}. Sift. What could he fay to that ? 

%d. Sift. He told me, he did not doubt but I 
would go to Heaven without his Help he faid 
jeftingly, it was a Road he had never travell d ; but 
I might be aifur d, he would not willingly pull me 
back, if he did not-help me on. 

ift. Sift. Well, there was fomething very honeft 
in that too. 

3^. Sift. That s true, Sifter; but negative Reli 
gion is a poor Stock to begin on. 

ift. Sift. But it s better than a Deipifer of Re 
ligion : you ought to have acknowledg d what 
Good you found. 

3&lt;t Sift. My Defigns lay another Way 5 I aim d 
at a fuller Dilcovery, and I fbon had it. 

ift. Sift. Well, go on then. 

$d. Sift. I told him, what Tricks my Uncle ufed 
to ferve my Aunt ; how he got a Book of Devo 
tions out of her Clofet once, and got a long print 
ed Story about ducking a Scold pafted into it j and 
another time got the Ballad of Chevy Chace bound 
into her Pfalm-Book; how when he knew fhe was 
in her Clolet at her Devotion, he would bring his 
Huntfman to feed the Hounds juft under her Win 
dow , and how one Time he made a Fellow cry 
Fire, and the like $ as you know, Sifter, he play d 
many fuch Pranks, and would do any thing to put 
her Thoughts into Diforder. He told me, tho 3 he 
was but a young Fellow, and had not troubled his 
Thoughts much about Religion,, (there &lt;was another 
Stab to my Affeffions^ Sifter^) yet he faid he could not 
bear to make a Jeft of it neither. 

ift. Sift. Well, but that was another Word in 
his Favour too, 

3d. Sift. I 



%d. Sift. I reply 9 d, I was very forry to hear him 
own, that he bad not troubled his f bought s about Re 
ligion, and ask d him upon what Foundation he could 
think of letting up a Family, if that was his Cafe ? 
He told me, he kept a Chaplain, and jefting told 
me, he was devout enough for all the reft of the 
Houfe. I grew chagrin and dull , I told him, that 
thele Things had fill d me with very lad Thoughts 
about marrying, and it look d very difmal to me ; 
but all I could lay, could not bring him to believe 
I was in earn eft. 

i ft. Sift. I believe, he is really very good hu- 
mour d. 

3&lt; Sift. Ay, Sifter, that s true - but I look for 
Ibmething farther in a Husband, or I am refblved 
I ll have no Husband at all. 

i ft. Sift. Well, but pray go on with your Story ; 
what Anfwer did he make ? 

3&lt;i Sift. He laugh d at me, and told me, he be 
lieved marrying would make him mighty religious ; 
that he would choofe a Wife firft, and then choofe 
his Religion. 

\ft. Sift. The Man was mad, fare, to open him- 
felf fo fully. 

$d. Sift. I appeared then really difturb d ; and, 
whether he perceiv d it or no, I am fure the Tears 
flood in my Eyes , however, I ftruggled with my 
Diforder, and told him I was very forry then, that 
it was his Misfortune to begin with one, that conld 
not be content to marry upon thofe Terms ; and 
hoped, when he was fully fatisfied of the Realbn 
of luch a Refolution in me, he would not take it 
ill, that 7 would ft ay for him, "till he had refolved 
more ferioufly upon a Thing of fo much more Im 
portance. 

i ft. Sift. That was very cunningly anfwer d 

$d. Sift, 



[4* ] 

%d. Sift. Then he began to think I was in earneft, 
and told me, he hop d I would not talk /i, becaufe 
it might be longer than he defired to be without 
me. 

iff. Sift. That was ftill making the Cafe worfe ; 
for it was as much as to fay, he neither had any 
Religion, nor intended to have any. 

%d. Sift. I did not fail to take it fb, and told him, 
the longer he was without me, it might be the 
better for him ; but the longer he was without Re 
ligion, I was fure would be the worfe for him ; and 
tbat 7 wonder d^ how a Man of his Senfc could talk 
fo. He reply d^ he had rather talk of any thing 
elfe ; for he found this Difcourfe did not pleaie 
me. / told him, he miftook me very much ; for tho 
I confefs d it did not pleafe me to find him to be 
what I hop d he was not, that is, a Perfon who 
pretended to no Religion , yet it pleafed me very 
well, that he had been fb juft to himfelf, as to let 
me know it, before any Engagements had pafs d 
between us. 

i ft. Sift. If I had not known, that my Sifter was 
never courted before, I fhould have thought you 
had pafs d a great many fuch Encounters as thefe. 

$d. Sift. You know, tis all new to me ; but 
however, I knew the thing was for my Life, and 
that I muft fpeak now or never j and I was relblvM 
to put an End to it. 

i ft. Sift. I muft own, you were in the right, tho 
I am perfqaded I could not have faid half ib much. 

3d. Sift. Why you haVt heard half of it yet I 
made him angry, ferious, laugh, and, I think ve 
rily, once I made him almoft cry. 

ift. Sift. I am forry, I interrupted you : pray go 
on then : What faid he next ? 

3d. Sift. 



[44] 

3&lt;i Sift. He faid, he wonder d I could fay, that no 
Engagements were between us ; he faid, he was fo 
engaged to me, as he could never go back. I an- 
iwer d, that as his Engagements were from himfelf, 
fo they were bed known to himfelf- but that he 
knew very well, I was under none to him. He 
frnil d then, and faid, he hop d I was ; I anfwer d, 
I had not profefs d to be engag d ; I told him, I 
would not deny, that I had Refped enough for him 
to have gone farther, had not fuch Difficulties ap 
peared as I could never get over, and had he been 
the Perfon he was reprefented ; but that, as it was, 
I had too much Refped for my felf to ruin my felf 
with my Eyes open, and too much Refped for 
him to keep him in Sufpence. 

ift. Sift. Would he not take that for being in 
earn eft ? 

$d. Sift. Yes, he {hewed me then, that he took 
me to be in earneft, and fhewed me, that he was in 
earneft too ; for he appeared warm, and a little 
angry j he told me, he was very lorry to be charged 
with deceiving me and ask d, if ever he had faid 
any thing of himfelf, which was not true ? For, 
Madam , fays he, if I am not the Perfon I appeared to 
~be, Imitft h ave deceived you in fomething ; pray what 
fort of a Perfon did you take me for? I reply ! d as warm 
as he^ that I wonder d he fhould miftake me fb 
much, that I thought he did not do me Juftice ; 
that I had laid indeed he was not the Peribn he 
bad been reprefented, but foever faid, that be bad re 
prefented himfelf one way or other.Then bebeggdme 
Pardon avain^ and told me, he had taken me wrong ; 
that whatever came of it, he would never deceive 
me - y I fhould know the worft of him, whether I 
would have him or no. Indeed *S/&gt;, faid I, I am per- 
juadedyou are no Hypocrite. 1 under ft and you ^ faid hc 5 
you think) I have ufed more Hone ft y than Difcretion. 

No, 



[ 45 ] 

No 9 ^3 &id I 5 / wry much approve your Honefty, 
and do not blame your Difcretion at all. But Ido^ laid 
he, for I find, if I could have counterfeited more ferious 
things thanl amMafler of, and feigned my fe If a little 
religious, all had been well. I told him I would not 
lay, that it was not in his Power to have deceived 
me j but I hope he had adted a Part much more 
like a Gentleman. He reply* d, that it was hard 
then, I mould make fo unkind a Return to him, as 
to make him lofe his Miftrefs for his Honefty. 
ift. Sift. Why really. Sifter, fo it was. 
$d. Sift. I told him I thought the beft Return 
was to treat him with the fame Sincerity, and that 
was the Reafon of the Freedom I took ; that as he 
told me plainly what he was, I muft tell him plain 
ly, I could not think of engaging with him any 
farther, till he had thought a little of thole things, 
which alone could make it realbnable for him to 
think of marrying. He would fain have turned it 
off to a Jeft , he laugh d at me, he banter d me, 
he ask d me how long 1 would ft ay for him ? I told 
him I was in no hafte. He askd me how long I 
thought I might ftay, before I got a Saint to my 
Mind, as the World went now ? / told him, I was 
but an ill Judge of Saints, and might be cheated 
as wifer than I had been ; but that, as I [aid befort^ 
I would not fall into the Pit with my Eyes open. 
He told me abruptly, he wifh 3 d / bad never feen him. 
At that Word, I confers, I was a little alarm d - y how 
ever I made no ^Infwer, but look d full in his Face ; 
I law he was concern d, and, as I thought, in a 
kind of a Paffion : When he found I look d at him, 
he repeated the Words thus, / wijh with all my 
Heart you had never feen me. I anfwer d nothing. 
He added, he wiftTd he had known my Mind fo oner* 
J ftill- laid nothing. Then he flung himlelf into 
my Anns 3 and hung about me s My Dear, fays he, 

with 



[4*] 

with an inexpreflible Tendernefs, why are you filent ? 
Becaufe^ fays I, / would not give you an Anfwer in 
kind to any thing that is difobttging ; he returned, it 
was impofJible for him to fay or do any thing dif- 
obliging to me ; that it was true, he wiftrd / bad 
never feen him^ and that be had known my Mind 
fooner , but it was, that he might have difguifed 
himfelf better, and not have loft me for his being fb 
fooliihly honeft. Wby^ laid I 5 would you have en 
deavoured - to have cheated me? Ay^ certainly^ {aid 
he, rather than lofe you ; and would have done it ef- 
f equally too. Why, what would you have done ? faid 
I. Done ! reply d he, I would have been the fob ere ft 
grave ft young Fellow, that ever you faw in your Life. 
And do you think your [elf Hypocrite enough^ faid I, 
to have concealed your felf effectually. Wby not ? 
faid he : Perhaps you think I am too much a Fool for 
it. No^ 6V&gt;, faid I 5 / think you are too, honeft for it^ 
and of the two, *tis much the better on your Side. 

ift. Sif. This was a kind of furn and Return be 
tween Jeft and Earneft : But how did it end ? 

$d. Sif. Why he carried it on thus a long Time, 
till he put an odd Cafe to me, which made me put 
a fhort End to the Difcourfe : We were fpeaking 
of Fortunes, and the Grandeur of Families ; at 
laft we came to fpeak of the young Duke of 
Why now^ fays he, // his Grace Jhould come and court 
you with the Eft ate and Grandeur of his Duality ^ the 
fitle of a Dutchefs^ &c. you would not turn fhort upon 
bim as you do upon me^ andfafy^ My Lord Duke, pray 
what Religion are you of ? and yet be has no more Reli 
gion than I. I told him, I thought he did not treat 
me fairly , that it was faying nothing at all, to fay I 
would not have this Man, or that Man, who ne 
ver made any Pretenfions to me 3 it was enough to 
me, that I would let him know, I would refufe all 
the Men in the World, that fhould ever come to 

me. 



[47] 

me, unleis I found a Reverence of God, a Senfe 
of Religion, and a Profeiion at lea ft of the Duty 
we all owe to our Maker, had made fbme Impref- 
fions on them : That I might be deceived indeed 
with a Hypocrite, for it was not in me to judge of 
the Heart, and as the World was now dated, it was 
but too probable I fhould ; but then it fhould be 
my Mifery, not my Fault j and that fmce he 
feemed to infmuate, that I did not ad: in that Af 
fair with Sincerity , I had no better Specimen of 
my Refolution than this^ that tho I was very fbrry 
to treat him fo, who, I was fatisfied had a Refped: 
for me ; and whofe Refpect I acknowledged was 
not difagreeable, and whofe Eftate and Propofals 
were very much better than 1 had Reafbn to exped:; 
yet that upon this one fmgle Account, I affured 
him, I neither could nor would ever diicourfe more 
with him on this Affair $ and hoped he would not 
take it ill, that I was forced to be fo plain with him, 
before I could perfuade him I was in earneft : And 
having faid all this, I offer d to rife and retire, but 
he held me fail in his Arms, and would not let me 
ftir. 

ift. Sif. Cruel Wretch ! how could you talk fb 
to him ? how did he look ? 

3^. Sif. Look ! I confefs, Sifter, his Looks mov d 
me more, than all the Words he could have faid 
in half a Year, and I fhall never forget them ; he 
feemed ftrangely affec~ted, and once or twice I faw 
Tears in his Eyes ; but he turned his Head away 
and recover d himfelf, and embarkM me in another 
Diicourfe in fpite of all I had faid. Hold., fays he, 
you loa&lt;ve broke onepofitive Pronrifeyou made me already: 
I told him, I did not remember, that I had ever made 
him any Promife at all. Tes, fays he, you told mejuft 
now you would ft ay for me^ till I had made a Choice 
in Matters of Religion. I told him a I had not broke 

that 



[48 ] 

that Promife yet. Yes, he faid, I had, in faying 
I would never difcourfe more with him on this Af 
fair. I reply d then, that I would except that Cir- 
cumftance, tho I thought he need not infift on it 
for feveral Reafons : Fir ft, Becaufe he might find 
fb many young Ladies abroad, who would not 
trouble their Heads to make the Objection I had 
done, and th at there was no Occafion for him to 
turn religious for a Wife. Secondly, becaufe there 
was no Appearance of his returning upon thofe 
Terms. He faid, that was more than I knew. But 
pray Madam, faid he, why do you lay fuch a mighty 
tStirefs upon this Particular ? Religion is an entire Ar 
ticle by itfelf-j my being religious or not religious need 
not obftruffi our Affection to one another ; -/ am no 
.Enemy to Religion. I anfwered, that it was indeed 
an acceptable Thing, as Times went now, not to 
find Gentlemen Deipiiers and Haters of Religion, 
and of all that favour d it ; but that I was affured, 
where there was not a Profefiion of Religion, and 
where God was not acknowledged, there could be 
no Bldling expected - and that I fhould think I had 
renounced God, and declared War againft Hea 
ven, if I fhould marry a Man, that openly acknow 
ledged he had no Religion. He told me, he was 
ibrry to fee me run Things to fuch an Extremity - y 
that he did not think I had been in earneft, when 
he in jeft faid, he had not thought of Religion ; that 
he would not urge me in a Thing, which I laid fo 
much Strefs upon, but would wait on me again, 
and hop d to find me in another Mind, and to let 
me know he was not quite fb bad as I thought him 
to be. And thus we broke up. 

ift. Sift. What did he go away angry ? 

%d. Sift. Truly, I cannot fay how he was ; he 
feemed difturbed and uneafy, and went away wil- 
linger than 1 expeded. 



[49] 

ijt. Sift. Ay, ay, and willinger than you defired 
too , I can perceive it. Sifter, well enough. 

$d. Sift. Why, I cannot deny, but I have acted 
all this by a Force upon my Affeclion ; but I fhould 
have been undone &gt; I fhould never have had any 
Peace, or expected any BleiTing in the Match ; for 
as a religious Life is the only Heaven upon Earth, 
if it pleafe God to fupport my Refolution, I ll ne 
ver fell the Profpect of it for an Eftate, or for the 
moft agreeable Perfbn alive. 

ift. Sift. Tis nobly refolved, Sifter ! I hope you 
will be fupported in fo juft a Refolution : But do 
you think he will come no more ? 

$d. Sift. I hope not $ but if he does, I refblve 
not to lee him., if I can avoid it. 

We muft now leave the two Sifters a while, and 
follow the young Gentleman a little, for his Story 
does not end fb ; he went away very much con- 
cern d, as abwe, and particularly it touched him 
very fenfibly, that he fhould be taken for fiich a 
Creature, that a fober, vertuous Lady (for fuch he 
was iure his Miftrefs was) fhould refufe him meerly 
on account of his wicked Character; and that tho* 
fhe acknowledg d me had a Refpect for him, fhe 
was oblig d to fhun him, purely becaufe fhe was 
afraid of him, as a Hater of Religion, and therefore 
dangerous to live with : It had run often in his Mind, 
that fhe had (aid, fhe could expect no Blefling with 
him y and that if me married him, fhe fhould think 
fhe had renounced God^ and declared War againft 
Heaven , fo that to be fure I am a dreadful Fellow, 
fays he, that Jhe dares not take me , left Jhe Jbould 
appear to be a Confederate with one of God s Enemies. 

It then occurred to him, that it really was no 
otherwife in Fact ; that fhe was in the right in it 
all 5 that he had in truth no Religion, or Senfe of 

E God, 



God, upon his Mind, nor had ever entertained 
any Notions of Religion in his Thoughts, and load, 
told her fo himfelfi and that therefore the young 
Lady was in the right of it, and if ihe had any 
Fund of Religion herfelf, had a great deal of 
Reaibn to refufe him , that every fbber Woman 
ought to refufe him on the fame Account ; and 
that fhe, that did not, was not fit to make him a 
Wife, or at leaft fuch a Wife as he could expect any 
Happiness from ; that this young Lady had made 
a true Judgment, and it was his Bufmefs, not to 
think of perfuading her to alter her Mind, which 
in floort muffi kffeu his Opinion of her^ but to confi- 
der what State and Condition he was in, and what 
was his firft Bufmeis to do, to deliver himfelf out 
of it 3 before he went to her any more. 

He grew uneafy upon this Subject for fbme Time, 
and being perfedtly ignorant of every thing call d 
Duty, having had an Education wholly void of In- 
ftruction, that Uneafmeis increafed ; and not know 
ing which Way to caft his Thoughts for immediate 
Direction, he grew very melancholy and deje&ed : 
He lov d this young Woman to an Extreme, and 
that Affection was infinitely increas d by her Con 
duct in this Affair, and by the extraordinary Man 
ner of her refufing him : But the Reproaches of 
his Heart, as being fuch a Monfter, that a Woman, 
that even own d fhe lov d him, durft not join her 
felf to him, doubled upon him, as his Affections 
for her increafed. 

He could not think of coming to her again ; for 
he confels d the Reafons, which me gave for her 
not daring to take him, were fo juft, and (he had 
argued them fo well,, that if me fhould abate any 
thing of them, he fhould not have Ib much Efteem 
for her as he had before ; and yet he law, that if 
(lie did not 3 he could never expect to have her ; 

and 



and yet alfb he could not bear the Thoughts of 
not having her, for alljhat. 

He liv d in this uneafy Condition fbme Months ; 
his Friends perceiving him to be very melancholy, 
tried many Ways to divert him, but none reach d 
his Cafe, or if they did, they underftood not how 
to advife him , for his Relations were moft like 
himfelf, People of Levity and Gallantry, being 
rich and gay , a Family that dealt very little in 
Matters of Religion: He had an Aunt, his Mother s 
Sifter, who feemed very much concerned about it ^ 
but as me thought, all that ailed him was his being 
crofs d in his Affe&ion, (he work d her Thoughts 
about, Night and Day to find out a Wife for him, 
and fo to take his Thoughts off, and turn them 
another Way : At length me found out a young 
Lady in the City, of a very great Fortune , for fhe 
had near 20000 /. to her Portion, and me ply d it 
fo warmly with him, that he confented to treat of 
it with her Friends, and his Circumftances being 
fuch as few Fortunes would refufe, he found his 
Way clear enough, and ib went to vilit the young 
Lady. 

It was an odd kind of Courtfhip you may be 
fure, and he went about it accordingly ; for, as he 
ccnfefs d afterward, he refolv d, before he law her, 
not to like her, or any thing me laid or did ; no, 
nor ever to be in earneft with her upon the thing $ 
only to jeft with and banter her, and he told his 
Aunt fb before-hand ; however, his Aunt would 
not take him at his Word, but would have him 
wait upon her, and fo he did ; but he needed not 
to have taken up any Refblutions in the Cafe, for he 
was ipoiled for Courtfhip already, at leaft, for moft 
of the Ladies of the Times ; he had no Relifh for 
any of their Converfation it was like Mufick to 
one that had no Ear - 3 all the Gayety and Flutter 

E z about 



about them was loft upon him ; his firft Miftrefs- 
had treated him with fuch fblid Reafoning, fuch 
ferious Talk, and had handled him after fuch a 
Manner, that in fhort nothing but what was ferious 
had now any Relifh with him , however, as I have 
/aid, he refolved to put a Force upon himfelf fo 
far, as to go and fee what kind of Thing his new 
Miftrefs was, and accordingly he did go, as above. 

But when he had been one Evening there, and 
had talk d a little with her, he foon faw he had no 
need of making Refolutions - y that he was in no 
Danger of being enfnared by her , the Levity of 
her Behaviour, the Emptinefs of her Difcourfe, the 
Weaknefs of her Conduct, made him fick of her 
the very firft Time and when he came away, he 
faid to himfelf, Js it pojfible for any Man in bis Sen- 
fes, to bear this Shuttle cock^ that had hit been one 
half Hour with my other Miftrefs ! and away he 
came, not pleafed at all : However, he went again 
for ibme time, 3 tiJl at laft, not finding Things 
mend but rather grow worfe, he was refolved 
he would talk a little with her about Religion ^ and 
as he ask d her one Night, what Religion Jhe was 
of? fhe anfwer d him juft in the very Words that 
he had banter d his other Miftrefs, O, fays fhe, / 
am a mighty good Chriftian. I believe fb, thought 
he, juft fuch another as I was, when I was ask d 
the fame Queftion. However, he conceal d his 
Thoughts, refolv d to carry it on a little farther, 
and gave her a mighty civil Anfwer, / don t 
doubt th at i Madam, fay she. IVell^ fays fhe then, 
what would you have more ? Nay, nothing, Madam^ 
returned he, / was only in jeft. O, fays fhe, you want 
to know, what Opinion lam of? you fee I am no Qua 
ker. No, fays he, Madam, I am not concern d about 
your Opinion ; you may eafily have as muchKeligion as 
I. Nay, fays fhe, / ban t troubled my Head much 

about 



[553 

alout it; Jdont know what I may dc, when I keep a 
Chaplain. He had enough of that Difcourfe, and 
fb he turn d it off to fbmething elfe j for tho s it was 
almoft the Pattern of what he had done with his 
firft Miftrefs, yet it look d with fuch a different 
Face to him now, that, as he faid afterwards^ it 
made his very Blood run cold within him ; and fill d 
him with Horror at his own Picture, which, he 
thought, now was fet before his Eyes in all its juft 
Deformities. When he came away from her, he 
faid to himfelf, Well^ now 1 fee the true Force of what 
that dear Creature argued for herfelf againft me , that 
to venture upon me^ while I declared againfl Religion , 
was to run herfelf into the Pit with her Eyes open ; 
and ruin herfelf by meer premeditated Choice : It would 
be juft fo with me in this Cafe, if IJhould marry this 
Butterfly , wefbould even go hand in hand very lov 
ingly to the Devil, fhis will not do my Bufinefs ! 
So he put an End to that Affair as foon as he could, 
and refolved to fee her no more. 

All this while he had no Affiftance from either 
Books, Friends, Minifters, or any Body, only the 
juft and natural Reflections of his own Reaibn : But 
as he was a Gentleman of polite Manners, and bred 
to Converfation with Gentlemen of the beft (Dua 
lity, as well as of the beft Parts, fb the Govern 
ment of himfelf was the more eafy 5 and he re- 
ftrained the Deje&ion of his Spirits from making 
any extraordinary Difcovery of itfelf, only that 
he appeared a little more fedate, and more thought 
ful than before : and was a little more retir d in his 
way of Living ; but not fo much, but that he came 
often into publick Company, as before. 

It happened one Time, that in promifcuous Con 
verfation at a Chocolate-houfe near the Court, 
this Gentleman and feven or eight more being pre- 
lent, the Company fell from talking of News to 

E 3 talking 



[ 54] 

talking of Religion : The Difcourfe began about 
t|ie Differences which had happened in France late 
ly, and were then depending between the Pope 
and the French Clergy j and of the Sorbonne or Fa 
culty of Theology, as they are called there, being 
at that Time employ d in drawing up a new Sy- 
ftem of Divinity, or Body of Doctrine as they call d 
It j and as a Confequence it was hinted, how likely 
it was, that fuch a ftricl: Enquiry made by Men 
of Learning and "Virtue, into the Fundamentals 
of Religion, fhould lead them at laft into Pro- 
teftant Principles, and break that whole Kingdom 
off from the Errors and Ignorance of Popery, open 
ing the Eyes of the People to Chriftian Know 
ledge. There being fome fbber and fenfible Gen 
tlemen there, the Difcourfe was carry d on very 
gravely and judicioufly, and the whole Company 
feem d to receive it with Pleafure when a Cou 
ple of young Beaus, who happen d to be in the 
Room, beginning to be tir d with a Thing fo much 
out of their Way, one of them rifes up on a fud- 
den, and lays to the other, Come, Jack^ I am 
tir d of this dull, religious Stuff; prithee let us go, 
there s nothing in it : Ay, fays t other, with all 
my Heart, I know nothing of the Matter : Come, 
will you go to the Opera ? There fate another 
young Gentleman of their Acquaintance there, and 
they pull d him to come with them : No, fays he, 
1 like this Difcourfe very well, tis worth two Ope 
ra s to me : Why, fays t other, how long have you 
been in Orders^ pray ? is fuch Stuff, as that, fit 
Convention for Gentlemen ? Yes, fays the fober 
young Gentleman, I think tis Pray, what can 
there be in religious Convention, that is unfit for 
a Gentleman ? There fate an ancient Nobleman 
by, talking with a Clergyman, who hearing the 
young Gentleman s Reply, fell a laughing , for Ms 



C 55 3 

Difcourfe put the former Sttbjeffi to a Stop. On my 
Word, Gentlemen, fays his Lordfhip, Mr. 
has met with you : I don t think you can anfwer 
his Queftion. Yes, My Lord, fays the foolifh Beau, 
I think tis below a Man of Quality to trouble his Head 
about it. Pray, Sir, fays the Lord, is it below a 
Man of Quality to be a Chriftian ? O, my Lord, 
fays the other Beau, bantering and jefting, we are 
mighty good Chriftians at the Opera , and turning 
away to his Comrade, fays he, Come, come, Jack, 
prithee let s go , fb they went both out together, 
for they did not care to engage. Our Gentleman 
liftned with Pleafure to all this Diicourfe, till he 
heard that Word mighty good Chrlflians, and then he 
refle6ted upon his having ufed that Expreflion to 
his Miftrefs, and how his laft Lady gave him the 
fame Return; but he thought it was ib empty, fb 
abiurd a Turn, to a Th ; ng of that Coniequence, 
that he rep ^ch d himielf with having talk d fo 
fool fbly, and was afham d to think, how like one 
of theie Fops he had appeared to her ; and how he 
had talk d after the fame fenfeleis Way, which he 
now look d upon to be the moft empty, fcandalous 
Thing in the World. 

When the two young Rakes were gone, the 
Lord, turning to the young Gentleman that had 
refufed them, complimented him upon his having 
given them fo handibm an Anfwer, and having run 
them both a-ground at one Enquiry. My Lord, laid 
the Gentleman, if my Queftion run them a-ground , 
your Lordfhip s ghiefiion quite con founded them. In 
deed, my Lord, continued he, tis too much the No 
tion now, efpe dally among Perfons of Duality, that 
tis below them to be religious. My Lord laid, It was 
fo indeed , but that he would fain askfuch People^ ce;/?&gt;c- 
ther they thought St. Paul was a Gentleman, or no ? and 
wbcibcr he did notJJjew as much goodBr ceding and good 

E 4 Manners 



[ 

Manner s.&gt; when he appeared beforeAgrippa, Feftus, and 
the Governor Sergius Paulus, as any Nobleman in Bri 
tain could have done at the Ear of the Houfe of Lords ? 
Upon this Subject his Lordfhip went on for half 
an Hour, with a Dilcourfe fb handfbme, fo to the 
Purpofe, and yet fo ferious, that it highly enter 
tained the Company ; fhewing how it became eve 
ry Man of Quality to behave himfelf in Subjection 
to the Rules given him by his Maker, as it became 
every Subject to honour his Governor , how Piety 
and Religion were the Glory of a Man of Quality, 
and made Nobility truly illuftrious ; that it was fo far 
from being true, that Religion was not iutted to 
the Life of a Gentleman, that it was certain a Man 
could not truly be a Gentleman without it ; that 
Religion was fo far from being a dull flegmatick 
Thing, and ufeleis in Converfation, as was the fafhi- 
onable Notion of the Town, that really no Man 
could be fb bright, ib perfectly eafy, fo chearful, 
fb fociable, and Ib always in humour for Society 
as a Chriftian , that Religion was the Beauty of 
Converfation, and aflifted to make it pleafant and 
agreeable ; that without it Company was empty, 
Difcourfe unprofitable, Society unpleafant , and, in 
fliort, that Converfation, without a Mixture of 
Ibmething regarding Religion, and a due Connecti 
on with it, was like a Dance without Mufick, or a 
Song without Meafure like Poetry without Quan-^ 
tity, or Speech . without Grammar that it was a 
Miilake to think Chriftianity received Honour 
from the Dignity of the Perfons who profefs d it ; 
and his Lordfhip faid, he wonder d to hear Men 
exprefs themfelves fb abfurdly vain, as to fay, fuch 
a Man is an Honour to Religion - y that the thing was 
true only in the Reverfe, and it fhould be faid, 
Rdigion is an Honour to fuch a Perfbn ; that it 
ivas a Contradiction in the very Nature of the 

Thing, 



[57] 

Thing, to fay, fuch a Man was noble, great, honour 
able, or a Gentleman, without Religion , and it 
might with every jot as much Senfe be laid fo of a 
Perfon who had neither Birth, Family or Manners. 
Our Gentleman came home charm d with this 
Difcourfe, as indeed the ivbole Company were befides ; 
efpecially confidering the Authority and Dignity 
of the Perfon who fpoke it ; his Mind was infpir d 
with New Thoughts by it, both of Religion and 
of himfelf 5 he not only faw more of the Excel 
lency of Religion in it felf, but began to fee clear 
ly it was the Ornament of a Gentleman to be a 
Chriftian : It was with the greateft Contempt, 
that he now look d back upon the Notion he had 
formerly efpous d of a Genrleman s being above 
troubling himfelf with ferious Things. How for 
did and brutifh did the two Beaus appear, [aid he, 
compared to that noble and excellent Perfon, my 

Lord ? How were they laugh d at and de- 

fpis d by all the Gentlemen in the Company, and 
look d upon as Fellows fit for nothing, but in the 
High Way to Difafter? On the other hand it oc- 
curr d to him, how handfbmely did that young Gen 
tleman anfoer them ? with what Modefty did he 
fpeak, and yet boldly, in Defence of a religious 
Life ? and what an Honour was paid him for it,, by 
all the Company, and by the Nobleman in parti 
cular ! and then to think of what that Lord had 
faid, with what Applaufe it was received, how all 
the Company liftned to his Lordfhip, as to an 
Oracle ; how general a Confent was given to it 
by all the Gentlemen and, in a Wvrd^ how agree 
able the Converfation of the Day was, put it all 
together, and yet, faidhe^ of eleven Gentlemen in 
the Room, there was not one Man among them, 
except the Clergyman, who was not above me 
both in Quality and Eftate. 

From 



[ 58] 

From all this he drew this general and happy 
Conclufion for himfelf, &lt;viz. That he fhould never 
be a complete Gentleman, till he became a religi 
ous Man j and that the more of a Chriftian he was, 
the fitter he fhould be for the Converfation of the 
beft and greateft Men in the Kingdom - y and in 
confequence of this Refolution he refolved to ap 
ply himfelf ferioufly to the Study of religious 
Things. 

To avoid the ufual Diverfions of the Town, 
while thefe ferious Thoughts were upon him, he 
refolved to retire into the Country, to a little Seat 
he had in Hamfcfhire, remote from all Converfation, 
and where he had no body to talk to, but his own 
Servants, or fome of the Neighbourhood, who 
were all his Tenants. When he found hirnielf fo 
perfe&ly alone, it began to be a little too much 
for him, and he grew very heavy, and a little hy- 
pochondriack ; his Mind was opprefs d with the 
Thoughts of his Circumftances, but dark as to the 
due Enquiries he ought to have made at length 
he rouz d himfelf a little with thefe Thoughts. 

I talk of being religious ! and being a Chriftian ! 
Why, I underffcnd nothing of it, oV how to go 
about it : What is it ? What is Religion? and what 
is it to be a Chriftian ? He poz d himfelf with the 
Qiieftions, and knew not what Anliver to give 
himfelf. when it came thus into his Mind, Did 
n6rthat deat^firft Preacher (meaning the young Lady 
tie bad cour-ted) tell me what Religion was ? and 
how me uriderftopd it, &lt;viz. a Reverence of God, 
,a Senfe of his Wqrfhip, and Impreffiorss of Duty 
to him that made us. This certainly is Religion, 
and this is to be religious : But which Way muft I 
go about it ? 

He was ferioufly mufing on this Part one Even- 
ing 3 walking all alone in a Field near his Houfe, 

when 



[ 59] 

when he began to look with great Concern upon 
the Want, which he felt, of an early Foundation, 
being laid in his Mind by a religious Education. 
Sure ,, faid he to himlelf, we that are Men of For 
tune^ are the moft unhappy Part of Mankind j we are 
taught nothing : Our Anceftors have had fo little 
Notion of Religion themfelves, that they never fo 
much as thought of it for their Children : I dont 
wonder they have thought it below them , for know 
ing little or nothing of it themfelves, they had no 
other Excufe to one another for the leaving their 
Children entirely deftitute of .#, but by pretending^ 
it was below their Duality. This flung him into a 
Reflection, which raifed this fudden, paifionate 
Expreflion, God me merciful to me ! lays he. 
What is become of my Father and Grandfather ! 
He went on then thus, Who am I ! a Gentleman ! 
I am attended by Servants, Jird^ and worjl^d^ 
and honour d here by a Parcel of poor Workmen 
and Tenants, that think themfelves nothing to me, 
and are half frighted if they do but fee me , and 
I am in the Sight of him that made me, and in 
my own too, a Dog, a Monfler^ a thoufand times 
worfe Creature than the meaneft of them ; for I 
am a Wretch with a Soul, and yet know nothing of 
him that gave it me ; a Soul commanded to ferve 
and obey the God that made it, and yet never 
taught to know him. 

fhere Jives a poor Ploughman, and yonder lives a 
poor Farmer ; they both fare hard,, and work hard -, 
Howibber, how religious, how ierious are they! Plow 
are they daily teaching and inftrudfcing their Chil 
dren ! and how were they taught and inftrudled by 
their Parents ! and there s icarce a Boy of ten Years 
old in their Families, but knows more of God and 
Religion than I do : 1 have been taught nothing, 
and know nothing but this 5 that I am under the 

Curfe 



[&lt;Jo] 

Curfe of Darknefs in the Midft of Light ; Igno 
rance in the Midft of Knowledge ; and have more 
to give an Account of, than a Negro of Afrlck^ 
or a Savage of America. 

He had wander d fb long in thefe Meditations, 
not minding his Way, that he found Night coming 
on, and he fcarce knew he was fb far from his own 
Houfe, till he look d about him , then he refblv d 
to go back fo he broke off his Thoughts a while, 
and made a little Hafte homeward ^ in his Way he 
neceflarily went by a poor labouring Man s Door, 
who, with a Wife and four Children, liv d in a 
fmall Cottage on the Wafte, where he (the Gentle 
man) was Lord of the Manor ; as he pafs d by, he 
thought he heard the Man s Voice, and ftepping 
up clofe to the Door, he perceived that the poor 
good old Man was praying to God with his Fami 
ly : As he [aid afterwards^ his Heart iprung in his 
Breaft for Joy at the Occafion, and he liften d ea 
gerly to hear what was faid : The poor Man was, 
it feems, giving God Thanks for his Condition, 
and that of his iittle Family , which he did with 
great Affedion ^ repeating how comfortably they 
liv d , how plentifully they were provided for, how 
God had diftinguifh d them in his Goodnefs, that 
they were alive, when others were fnatch d away 
by Difeafes and Difafters ; in Health, when others 
languifh d with Pain and Sicknefs 3 had Food, when 
others were in Want - y at Liberty, when others 
were in Prifbn ; were cloathed and cover d, when 
others were naked and without Habitation ; con 
cluding with admiring and adoring the Wonders of 
God s Providence and Mercy to them, who had 
deferved nothing. 

He was confounded, andftruck as it w&tfpeeft* 
lefs at the Surprize of what he had heard : Nothing 
could be more affefting to him : he came away, 

(for 



(for Joe had ft aid as long as bis Heart could hold} and 
walk d to fome Diftance, and there ftopt, look d 
up, and round him, as he faid^ to fee if he was 
awake, or if it was a Dream , at laft he got fome 
Vent to his Thought, and throwing out his Arms 3 
Merciful God ! fays he, is this to be a Chriftian ! what 
then have I been all my Days ! what s this Man 
thus thankful for ! Why, my Dogs live better than 
he does in fome Refpe&s, and is he on his Knees 
adoring infinite Goodnefs for his Enjoyments ! why 
I have enjoy d all I have, and never had the leaft 
Senfe of God s Goodnefs to me, or ever once faid 5 
God) I thank thee for it, in my Life. Well might a 
fober Woman be afraid of me : Is this humble Tem 
per, this Thankfulnefs for meer Poverty ! is this 
the EfFed of being a Chriftian ! why then Chri- 
ftians are the happieft People in the World! Why 
I fhould hang my felf, if I was to be reduced to a 
Degree a hundred times above him , and yet here 
s Peace, Eafe of Mind, Satisfaction in Circum- 
ftances, nay fhankfulnefs, which is the Excefs of 
human Felicity ; and all this in a Man that juft 
lives one Degree above ftarving: We think our 
Farmers poor Slaves, who labour and drudge in the 
Earth to fupport us that are their Landlords, and 
who look upon us like their Lords and Matters ; 
why this poor Wretch is but a Drudge to thofe 
Drudges, a Slave of Slaves ; and yet he gives God 
Thanks for the Happinefs of his Condition ! is this 
the Frame of religious People ! what a Monfter am 
I ! Then he walk d a little way farther, but not 
being able to contain his Aftonifhment, I ll go 
back, fays he, to poor William 3 (for he knew his 
Name) he fhall teach me to be a Chriftian j for I 
am fure, I know nothing of it yet. 

Away 



Away he goes back to the poor Man s Houfe, 
and (landing without, he whiffled firft, and then 
call d William ! William ! The poor Man, bis Family 
Worjhip being over^ was juft going to Supper, but 
hearing fomebody whiftje, he thought it might be 
fbme Stranger that had loft his Way, as is often the 
Cafe in the Country, and went to the Door, where 
he faw a Gentleman fland at ibme Diftance ; but 
not feeing him perfe&Jy, becaufe it was dusk, he 
ask d, who it was, but was furpriz d when he heard 
his Voice, and knew who it was. 

Don t you know me, William ? fays his Land 
lord. 

William. Indeed I did not know your Worjhip at 
firft 5 I am forry to fee you out fo late, an ft pleafe 
your Worjhip) and all alone ; I hope you an t on 
foot too ? 

Landlord. Yes I am, William : Indeed I have 
wander d through the Wood here a little too far, 
before I was aware : will you go home with me, 
ffilliam ? 

Will. Yes, anft pleafe your Worjhip to accept o nt e^ 
with all my Heart : You ihall not go alone in the 
dark thus : an ft pleafe your Worjhip to ftay a bit, 
I ll go call Goodman Jones and his Son too ~ y we ll 
all fee you fafe home. 

La. No, no ; I ll ha none but you, William : 
Come along. 

Will. And t pleafe you I ll take my Bill in my 
Hand then ; tis all the Weapons I have. 

La. Well do then ; but how will you do to 
leave your Wife and Children ? 

Will. God will keep them, I hope, an ft pleafe 
your Worjhip ; his Prote&ion is a good Guard. 

La. That s true, William , come along then : I 
hope there are no Thieyes about, [f bey go together. 

Will. Alas \ 



Will. Alas ! an ft pleafe yourWorfhip, it s a fbrry 
Thief would rob a Cottage. 

La. Well, but that little you have, William, it s 
fomething to you ; you would be loth to lofe it. 

Will Indeed I could ill fpare what I have, tho* 
it be very mean, becaufe I could not buy more in 
the Room of it. 

La. I know you are poor, William : How many 
Children have you ? 

Will. I have four, an ft pleafe you. 

La. And how do ye all live ? 

Will. Indeed, and 9 ? pleafe you, we live all by my 
hard Labour. 

La. And what can you earn a Day, William ? 

Will. Why, anft pleafc you, I can t get above 
10 d. a Day now ; but when your Worfhip s good 
Father was alive, he always gave the Steward Or 
der to allow me 12 d. a Day, and that was a great 
Help to me. 

La. Well, but William, can your Wife get no* 
thing ? 

Will. Truly, now and then fhe can, in the Sum 
mer : but it is very little , fhe s but weakly. 

La. And have you always Work, William ? 

Will. Truly, an ft pleafe you, fbmetimes I have 
not ; and then it is very hard with us. 

La. Well, but you do not want, I hope, -Wil* 
Ham ? 

Will. No, lleffed le God, and t pleafe you, we do 
-not want-, no, no, God forbid I fhould fay we 
want j we * want nothing but; to be more thankful 
for what we have. 

* fbisftmck him to tie Heart, that this poor Wretch 
JJiouldfaybe wanted nothing, &c. 

La. Thank- 



La. Thankful, William ! why, what haft thou 
to be thankful for ? 

Will. Odear! and*t pleafe you, I fhould be a dread 
ful Wretch, if I fhould not be thankful ! what fhould 
become of me, if I had nothing but what I deferve ? 

La. Why, what couldft thou be worfe than thou 
art, William ? 

Will The Lord be praifed, an ft pleafe your Wor~ 
Jhip, I might be fick or lame, and could not work, 
and then we muft all perifh , or I might be with 
out a Cover , your Worfhip might turn me out of 
this warm Cottage, and my Wife and Children 
would be ftarv d with Cold : How many better 
Chriftians than I are expofed to Mifery and Want, 
and I am provided for ? BleiTed be the Lord, I 
want for * nothing, antft pleafe you. 

La. Poor William \ thou art more thankful for thy 
Cottage, than ever 1 was for the Manor-houfe $ 
prithee, William, can you tell me how to be thank 
ful too ? 

Will. A nd t pleafe your Worfhip, I don t doubt 
but you are more thankful than I ; you have a vaft 
Eftate, and are Lord of all the Country, I know 
not how far , to lye fur e you are more thankful than 
I, ant pleafe you. 

La. I ought to be fb, you mean, William , I know 
that ; for it all comes from the fame Hand. 

Will. I don t doubt but you are very thankful to 
God, antit pleafe you, to be fure you are; for he has 
given your Worfhip great Wealth - 9 and where much 


* It was dark, and William could not fee him:, lut 

he owned afterwards, that it made his Heart burn 

within him to hear the poor Man talk thus ; and 

the fears came out of his Eyes fo faft, that he 

walked 30 or 40 Steps before be could fpeak to him 

again. 

is 



is given, you know,, and t pleafe you, much is required $ 
to be fure you are much more thankful than I. 

La. "Truly, William, I d give a thoufand Pound I 
were as happy, and as thankful as thou art : Pri 
thee, William^ tell me, how I fhall bring my felf 
to be thankful j for tho thou art a poorer Man, I 
believe thou art a richer Chriftian, than I am. 

Will. O / an ft pleafeyour Worflyip, I cannot teach 
you ; I am a poor labouring Man , I have no 
Learning. 

La. But what made you fb thankful, William^ 
for little more than Bread and Water ? 

Will. O Sir ! an ft pleafe you, my old Father ufed 
to fay to me, that to compare what we receive with 
what we deferve, will make any body thankful. 

La. Indeed that s true, William : Alas ! we that 
are Gentlemen, are the unhappieft Creatures in 
the World ^ we can t quote our Fathers for any 
thing that is fit to be named : was thy Father as 
thankful as thou art, William ? 

Will. Yes, an ft pleafe you, Sir, and a great deal 
more : O / I lhall never be fo good a Chriftian as 
my Father was. 

La. And I fhall never be fb good a Chriftian as 
thou art, William ? 

Will. I hope you are, an ft pleafe you, much bet 
ter already God has blefs d your Worfhip with a 
raft great Eftate, and if he gives you Grace to ho- 
nour him with it, he has put Means in your Wor- 
fhip s Hands to do a great deal of Good with it, 
an ft pleafe you. 

La. But you have a better Eftate than I, Wil 
liam ? 

Will. I an Eftate ! anft pleafe you ! I am a poor 
labouring Man ; if I can get Bread by my Work, 
for my poor Children, it is all I have to hope for 
on this fide Eternity. 

F La. William I 



C 

La. William \ William ! thou haft an Inheritance 
beyond this World, and 1 want that Hope ; I am 
very ferious with thee, William : Thou haft taught 
me more this one Night of the true Happinefs of a 
Chriftian s Life, than ever I knew before - I muft 
have more Talk with thee upon this Subject , for 
thou haft been the beft Inftru&or ever I met with. 

Will. Alas ! Sir, I am a fbrry Inftru&or, I want 
Help my felf, and t pleafe you^ and ibmetimes, the 
Lord knows, I am hardly able to bear up under 
my Burthen ; but, blefled be God, at other Times 
I am comforted, that my Hope is not in this Life. 

La. I tell thee, William^ thy Eftate s better than 
all mine ; thy Treafure is in Heaven, and thy 
Heart s there too , I would give all my Eftate to 
be in thy Condition. 

Will. O Sir^ 1 hope your Worfhip is in a better 
Condition than I, every way. 

La. Look you, William^ I am very ferious with 
thee ; thou knoweft how I have been brought up, 
for you remember .my Father very well. 

Will. Yes, I do indeed ; he was a good Man to 
the Poor : I was the better for him many a Day $ 
he was a worthy Gentleman. 

La. But, William , he never took any Care of us, 
that were his Children, to teach us any thing of 
Religion , and this is my Cafe, as it is the Cafe of 
too many Gentlemen of Eftates ; we are the un- 
happieft Creatures in the World, we are taught 
nothing, and we know nothing, of Religion, or of 
him that made us , tis below us, it feems. 

Will. Tis great Pity indeed, an ft pleafe you:, but 
I know it is fo too often : there s young Sir fbo. 
, your Wor fhip s Coufin, he is a pretty 
Youth, and may make a fine Gentleman , but tho 
he is but a Child, he has fuch Words in his Mouth, 
and willfwear fo already , ir grieves me to hear him 

fume- 



ibmetimes. It s true, his Father is dead ; but fure 
if my Lady knew it, me would teach him better $ 
it s pity fo hopeful a young Gentleman fhould be 
ruin d. 

La. And who do you think fpoil d him ? 

Will. Some wicked Children, that they let him 
play with, I believe, or fome loofe Servants. 

La. No, no, William, only his own Father and 
Mother j I have heard his Father take him when 
he was a Child, and make him fpeak lewd Words, 
and fing immodeft Songs, when the poor Ghild 
did not fb much as know the Meaning of what he 
laid, or that the Words were not fit for him to 
fpeak : and you talk of my Lady ! why me will 
fwear and curfe as faft as her Coachman how 
fhould the Child learn any better ? 

Will. O dear, that is a dreadful Cafe indeed \ 
an ft pleafe you ! then the poor Youth muft be ruin cl 
of Neceffity ; there s no Remedy for him, unlefs 
it pleafes God to flngle him out by his diftinguifh- 
ing invifible Grace. 

La. Why his Cafe, William, is my Cafe, and 
the Cafe of half the Gentlemen in England ; what 
God may do, as you fay, by his invifible Grace, I 
know not, nor icarce know what you mean by 
that Word , we are from our Infancy given up to 
the Devil, almoft as directly, as if we were put out 
to nurfe to him. 

Will. Indeed, Sir, an ft pleafe you, the Gentle 
men do not think much of Religion ; I fear it was 
always fb the Scripture fays, Not many rich, not 
many nolle, are called ; and it is the Poor of this 
World that are rich in Faith, James ii. 5. 

La. I Jind it fb indeed, William^ and I find my 
felf at a dreadful Lofs in this very thing , I am con- 
vinc d, the Happinefs of Man does not confift in 
the Eftate, Pleafnres, and Enjoyments of Life ; if 

F2 fo, 



[68 ] 

fb, the Poor alone would be miferable, and the 
rich Men only be blefled ; but there is fomething 
beyond this World, which makes up for all that is 
deficient here : This you have, and 1 have not $ 
and fo, William, you in your poor Cottage are 
richer, and more happy than I am, with the whole 
Manor. 

Will. Indeed, Sir, If in this World only we bad 
Hope, the Poor would be of all Men the mqft mifer- 
able ; blefled be the Lord, that our Portion is not 
in this Life. But, Sir, anat fleafe you, I hope you 
will not difcourage yourfelf neither j for God has 
not chofen the Poor only, rich Men have Tempta 
tions from the World, and Hindrances very many, 
and it is hard for them to enter into the Kingdom 
of Heaven , but they are not font out, the Gate is 
not barr d upon them becaufe they are rich. 

La. I know not how it is, William, nor which 
Way to begin ; but I fee fo many Obftrudlions in 
the Work, that I doubt I fhall never get over it. 

Will Do not fay fo, I befeech you. Sir, an ft 
pleafe you , the Promife is made to all , and if God 
has given you a Heart to feek him, he will meet you 
and blcfs you, for he has laid, ^te r Hearts Jball live 
that feek the Lord : Many great and rich Men have 
been good Men , we read of good Kings and good 
Princes ; and if your Difficulties are great, you 
have great Encouragements ; for you that are great 
Men, have great Opportunities to honour God, 
and do good to his Church ; poor Men are denied 
thefe Encouragements ; we can only fit ft ill and 
be patient under the Weight of our Sorrows, and 
our Poverty, and look for his Bleiling, which alone 
wakes rich, and adds no Sorrow to it. 

La. But tell me, William, what is the firft Step 
fuch a poor uneducated Thing as I am fhould take? 
J fee a Beauty in Religion, which I cannot reach ; 

I fee 



I fee the Happinefs which thou enjoyeft, William* 
in an humble, religious, correct Life -, I would give 
all my Eftate to be in thy Condition ; I would 
labour at the Hedge and the Ditch, as thou doft, 
could I have the fame Peace within, and be as 
thankful, and have fuch an entire Confidence in 
God as thou haft ; I fee the Happinefs of it, but 
nothing of the Way how to obtain it. 

Will. Alas ! Sir, an ft pleafe you, you do not know 
my Condition ; I am a poor difconfolate Creature ; 
I am fometimes fb loft, fb dark, fb overwhelm d 
with my Condition, and with my DiftrefTes, that I 
am tempted to fear God Jo as forgotten to be gracious ; 
that I am caft off, and left to fink under my own 
Burthen : I am fb unworthy, fb forgetful of my 
Duty, fo eafily let go my Hold, and caft off my 
Confidence, that I fear often I mall defpair. 

La. And what do you do then, William ? 

Will. Alas ! Sir, I go mourning many a Day, 
and waking many a Night , but 1 blefs the Lord, I 
always mourn after him , I always cleave to him ; 
I am not tempted to run from him , I know I am 
undone, if I feek Comfort in any other : Alas ! 
ivhither elfe Jhould I go ! I cry Night and Day, Re 
turn, return^ O Fattier ! and refolve to lie at his 
Foot ; and that // he flay me, yet I will truft in him ; 
and bleffed be the God, of my Hope, he does fend 
Comfort and Peace, tho fometimes it is very long. 

La. Well, William , and is this a difconfolate 
Condition ! would you change your Condition 
with me that am the rich Glutton ? 

Will. O do not fay fo of your felf, an ft pleafe 
you 5 God has touch d your Wodhip s Heart, I per 
ceive, with an earneft Defire after him j you have 
a gracious Promife, that would greatly encourage 
you, if you would but take it to your 1 felf 

F 3 La. En- 



[70] 

La. Encourage me, William ! that s impoflible : 
\vhat can encourage me ? What Promife is it you 
talk of, that looks towards me ? 

Will. Why, and tpleafeyou^ I heard you fay, you 
would change your Condition with iuch a poor 
"Wretch as I ; you would labour at the Hedge and 
the Ditch, to have the Knowledge of God and 
Religion, and to be able to be thankful to him, 
and have Confidence in him : This implies, that 
you have a longing earnefl Defire after bim, and 
after the Knowledge of his Truth. 

La. Indeed that is true, William. 

Will. Then there arc many comforting Scrip 
tures, which fpeak dire&Jy to you, Sir, viz. Blef- 
fed are they that hanger and thirft after Kighteouf- 
nefs^ for they Jh all be filled : tfhe longing Soul fliall 
be fatisfyd^: He will fatisfy the Le fires of all thofe 
that fear him , and the like. 

La. But what muft I do ? which is the Way an 
ignorant Wretch muft take ? 

Will. Sir, and t pleafe you^ the Way is plain : We 
muft pray to him , Prayer is the firft Duty, and 
Prayer is the grearteft Privilege we can enjoy in the 
World. 

La. .Ay, William ; but there is a great deal re 
quired in Prayer, that I am an utter Stranger to : 
I never pray d in my Life ; no, nor I believe my 
Father or Grandfather before me, William ! I came 
of a curfed Race, William^ and I doubt tis en- 
tail d upon the Family like the Eftate. 

Will. O, Sir, ^do not fay that : the Scripture is 
plain, and t pleafe you., that the Children fhall not 
be punifhed for the Father s Tranigreffions. 

La. But then certainly they muft not tread in 
their Father s Steps, as I do exactly, William ? 

WilL That s true indeed, Sir, they muft not 
tread in thole Steps. 

La. But 



[7.] 

La. But what dofttalk then of Prayer being the 
firft Duty? Why, if that be the firft Thing, I 
muft not begin , for how can fuch a Creature as I 
pray to God ? 

Will- As the Spirit of God wiil affift thofe, whofe 
Hearts are towards him, fo we muft pray, that we 
may be taught to pray. 

La. Is it not a difficult Thing for a Man to ray 
to God, William, that fcarce ever thought of God 
in all his Life ? 

Will. Well, Sir , but who do you think put thofe 
Thoughts into your Mind, which you now have ? 
and who open a your Eyes, Sir, to fee a Beauty 
in Religion, as now you fee ? and touch d your 
Heart with fuch an earneft Defire after the Ways 
and Things of God, as you now exprefly fay you 
have ? Do you think this is not of God, and t pkafe 
you ? 

La. Indeed, fflitliaw^ I know not ; it would be 
a very delightful Thing to me, if I thought it was 
fb. 

Will. Without Queftion, Sir, it is: Man can 
have no fuch Power , Nature prompts us to evil 
Thoughts and evil Defires, and to them only ; the 
Imagination of the f houghs of our Hearts are evil, 
iind only evil ; if there are any good Motions, or 
heavenly Defires in the Heart, they are all from 
God. Every good Giving, and every per f eft Gift comes 
down from above , tis his Power works them, his 
invifible Grace forms all holy Defires in the Soul. 

La. Well 3 and what do you infer from thence, 
William ? 

Will. Why, Sir, and tpleafe you, if God has be 
gun a good Work, he will perfect it ; if he has 
turned your Face towards him, he will lift up your 
Heart to him : To pray to God is as natural to a 

F 4 Con- 



Convert, as to cry after the Father or Mother is 
to an Infant. 

La. Thou fpeakeft, William^ with more Clear- 
nefs than ever I heard before , but tis a ftrange 
Thing to me to talk of praying to God : I pray ! 
that, except juft the common Road of going to 
Church, cannot fay that ever I kneel d down to 
pray to God once in all my Life ! How fhall I 
pray ? 

Will. That s fad indeed, an ft fkafe you ! I am 
fbrry to hear your Worfhip fay fb : Does any Crea 
ture live and not pray to God ! O dear ! that s a 
lad dreadful Thing in truth ! but however, Sir, do 
not let that hinder you now. 

La. How doft mean hinder me ? what can be 
faid to hinder me doing what I have no Knowledge 
in, no Notion of, no Inclination to ? 

Will O Sir, an ft pleafe you^ you miftake your 
own Condition very much : Do not difcourage 
your felf thus j you know how to pray, better than 
many that make much Noife with their Devotions, 
J fee it plainly. 

La. I pray ! William $ I pray ! I tell thee, I ne 
ver pray d in my Life, as I know of. 

Will. And t pleafe your Worfhip not to be an 
gry with me for my plain Way 

La. Prithee, William^ be plain, and fpeak free 
ly ; don t worfbip me and fir me now j talk to me, 
as if I were your Neighbour or Comrade , thefe 
are not Things to be talk d of with Cringes and 
Bows : I am a wretched, contemptible, poor, rich 
Man 3 thou art a poor, rich, happy Chriftian 
talk plainly to me, William^ the coarfer the better, 
I like it beft ; there will be no Difference, William^ 
between thee and I hereafter, but what will be on 
thy Side , tell me therefore what you mean, Wil-- 
li?.in~ by my Praying ? 

Will Why, 



Will. Why, Sir, if you allow me to be plain 
then, I fay, you miftake your own Condition, and 
thereby put off the Comfort you might receive ; 
I fay, you do pray, and know better how to pray, 
than many that come to 6hurch and appear as if 
they pray d every Day. 

La. You muft explain your ielf, William^ 1 do 
not underftand you. 

Will Why, Sir, thofe earnefl Defires you have 
after the Knowledge of God, and after the true 
Worfhip of God 5 which is the Sum of Religion^ I 
fay, thole earneft Defires are really Prayers in their 
own Nature , fincere Wifhes of the Heart for Grace 
are Prayers to God for Grace, Prayer it felf is no 
thing but thofe Wifhes and Defires put into Words, 
and the firft is the eflential Part , for there may 
be Words ufed without the Deftre, and that is not 
Prayeac, but a Mockery of God , but the Defires 
of the Heart may be Prayers even without the 
Words. 

La. You furprize me a little, William. 

Will. Befides, Sir, and*t fleafe you.) thofe earneft 
Defires you have after Religion, and after the Know 
ledge of God, will force you to pray firft or laft, 
even in a verbal Prayer ; they will break out like 
a Flame that cannot be withheld ; your Heart will 
pray when you know not of it ; Praying to God, 
Sir, is the firft Thing a Senfe of Religion dictates, 
as a Child cries as foon as it is born. 

La. Alas ! William^ I know nothing of it ^ I am 
fuch an unaccountable Wretch, God knows, I 
know nothing what belongs to praying, not I ; 
thou haft let me fee farther into it, by that thou 
faid ft juft now, than ever I faw or heard before. 

Will. Why, look ye, now, an ft pleafe you, I 
told you it would break out, when you knew not 

of 



[74] 

of it, and you would pray to God before you 
were aware : Did you not pray juft now ? 

La. Pray ! Why, what did I fay ? I faid, I know 
nothing of Prayer. 

Will. Nay, that was not all : What is the Mean 
ing of thole Words, Alas, William! and whence 
came that Sigh when you called your felf that hard 
Name ? and what was the Senfe of your Soul but 
this, God be merciful to me, and teach me to pray 9 
for, alas ! / know nothing what belongs to fraying : 
Was not all this praying"? 

La. Indeed, William^ my Heart had fuch a kind 
of Meaning but I cannot form the Thought into 
Words, no not in my very Soul. 

WilL It s all one, Sir : God that moves the 
Soul, certainly hears his own Motion , how ihould 
he but hear it ? is it not his own working ! fhe 
Preparation of the Heart, and the An finer of the 
fongue^ is of the Lord : He will hear every fincere 
Defire, which he forms in your Soul, whether it 
be conceived into Words or no , for it is the Voice 
of his own Spirit and Grace. 

La. Thou art a comforting Preacher, William , 
I don t wonder you enjoy fuch a fhining Beam of 
Light in your own Soul, when you have fuch a 
Senfe of Things as this ; you fhall be my Inftru- 
&or, William, I may call you Father rather 5 for 
thou art better to me than ten Fathers. 

Will. O Sir, and t pleafe you^ my Diicomforts are 
very great, and the Beam you fpeak of is very dim 
in me ^ do not fpeak fuch fhings of me ; it makes 
me very fad ; for I know my own Darknefs, I am 
a poor defpis d Creature. 

La. Well, but God may make you an Inftru- 
ment of Good to me, or to any one he pleafes : I 
never had thus much IhftriicUon in my Life, Wil 
liam - 



[ 75 

Ham ; you will not be backward to do good, 1 
hope, if it be thus caft in your Way. 

Will I fhall be very glad, if fuch a Worm, as I 
am, fhould be an Inftrument in God s Hand to 
comfort or inform your Worfhip, and fhall praife 
God for the Occafion, as long as I live , and indeed 
I rejoice, and t pleafe you, to fee your Worfhip en 
quiring after thefe Things ; I pray God increafe 
the Knowledge of himielf in your Mind, and 
comfort you with the Hope of his Prefence and 
Bleffing. 

La. Amen. I thank you, William. 

Will Look you now, Sir, and t plea fe you^ did 
you not pray then, again ? 

La. 1 join d with you, William ; I don*t know ; 
but if that be praying, I think I did pray. 

Will Thus God will move your Heart to pray 
to him: and I befeech your Worfhip to read the 
Scriptures ; read them much, read them ferioufly, 
and pray, Sir, obferve this one Thing, when you 
read, which I have experienc d often, and very 
comfortably ; and I dare fay, you and every one 
that reads the Word of God, with Defire of a Ble 
fing, will experience the like, TCZ. When you are 
reading, and come to any Place that touches you, 
and that your Mind is affected with, youjhall find^ 
even whether you will or no, your Heart will eve 
ry now and then lift it felf up thus, Lord I make 
good tins Word. to me ! Lcrd! draw my Heart thus to 
thee ! Lord ! help me thus to feek tbee^ and the like ; 
"and be not afraid to call that Praying ; for mental 
Petition is Prayer as well as Words ; and is, per 
haps, the beft mov d Prayer, and the belt ex- 
prefs d in the World. 



La. You 



La. You will perfuade me, William, that I both 
have pray d already, and fliall again, whether I 
will or no, tind whether I know any thing of it or 
no, and that I want no Teaching. 

Will. Pray, Sir, does a Child want to be taught 
to cry ? 

La. Will that Simile hold, William ? 

Will Indeed it will, Sir : Read the Scripture ; 
if God s Word reaches your Heart, you will not 
need to be taught to pray. 

La. I told you, William^ you hardly knew who 
you were talking to : You talk of my reading the 
Scripture ; why, Til tell thee, William^ I ha Vt a 
Bible in the World, and never had one in my Life : 
There s the Manor-houfe yonder , I queftion whe 
ther God was ever pray d to in it, or his Name 
mention d there, except prophanely, or perhaps to 
fwear by it, fiiice twas built: why you know as 
well as I, what a Family it was that liv d in it, 
when my Father purchafed it , they were as much 
Strangers to Religion, William , as thou art to Greek 
and Hebrew , and ours were but little better, that 
came after them. 

Will. I fear, indeed, and t pleafe your Worfoip^ it 
was fo : Poor Gentlemen ! they liv d badly indeed $ 
very badly : Alas ! Gentlemen muft not be told 
of it by us poor Men , but they were a fad wicked 
Family, I remember it well. 

La. But, William^ thou can ft lend me a Bible, 
can ft thou not ? and I ll read it all over while I 
flay in the Country. 

Will Yes, and t pleafe your Worfhip, I ll lend 
yon a Bible ; I ll bring it in the Morning. 

La. Do, William^ and come and flay with me 
to Morrow 3 I ll make thee amends for thy Day s 

Work, 



[ 77 ] 

Work, and there s * fbmething for thy good Ad 
vice, and coming fb far with me. 
Will. Thank your Worfhip. 

They were now come to the Manor-houfe, and 
he was loth to detain him, becaufe it was late, and 
becaufe he was fb affected with the Difcourfe they 
had had, that he wanted very much to be alone 
again. 

As fbon as he came into his own Houie, he lock d 
himfelf into a Parlour, and began to confider with 
great Serioufnefs all thefe Things, and eipccially 
what the poor Man had {aid to him about praying 
to God , and as his Thoughts were intent upon the 
Meaning of Prayer, the Nature of it, and the Ad 
vantages of it, at every Turn of thefe Thoughts 
he found a fecret kind of Hint like a Voice /";/ bitn 9 
not. a Voice to him^ O that I could pray ! O if I 
could but pray as that poor Man does I How hap 
py fhould I be, if I could but pray to God ! and the 
like : He was not aware of thefe Movements they 
feemed to be wrought in his Affections perfectly 
involuntary and fudden and they pafsM over with* 
out being notic d and obferv d, even by himfelf, till 
after a good while they returned ftronger and more 
frequent upon him, fo that he not only perceived 
it, but remembred how often his Heart had thrown 
out thofe Expreffions - s when on a fudden the poor 
Man s Words came into his Mind with fuch a 
Force, as if the Man himfelf had been there ; why 
this was praying -, certainly I have been praying all 
this while, and knew it not. 

* He gives him feme Money ^ and fends him back 
again. 

Upon 



on 

Upon this Reflexion, it was impoflible for him 
to exprefs, as he [aid afterwards, what a ftrange 
Rapture of Joy poffefs d his Mind, and how his 
Heart was turn d within him , then he fell into the 
fame iecret Ejaculations of another Kind, viz. of 
Admiration, Praifes, Thankfgiving, and mere Aflo- 
nifhment ; but Hill without fpeaking otherwife 
than a kind of mental Voice, founding or inject 
ing Words into his Mind fuch as thefe, Lord ! mall 
I be brought to pray to God ! I that have never 
been told fb much as how to mention his Name ! 
I that have never known any thing of God, or my 
felf ! or have been taught any thing of my Duty 
to him ! mall I be taught to pray ! and taught by 
who ! by this poor defpicable Creature, that, at 
another Time, I would not have fpoken to, if he 
had made me twenty Bows and Scrapes ! His Tongue 
then was let loofe, and he cry d out, BleJJed be God 
that ever I came near that poor Man. 

He continued all that Evening filled with com 
forting Reflections, and with a kind of inward 
Peace and Satisfaction , which, as he had never 
known before, fo he knew not how to defcribe or 
relate it, or indeed how to manage it: In the Morning 
he found the fame Meditation and the fame Light- 
nels upon his Spirits return d, and he remembred 
what the poor Man had pray d for, for him, viz. 
That he might be comforted with the Hopes of the 
Prefence and Bleffing of God, to which his Heart 
had fb readily faid Amen : and now he long d for 
the poor Man s coming with the Bible. 

The poor Man was likewife mightily affected 
with his Cafe, confidering him a young Gentleman 
of fuch a Family and Fortune ; and who was fo far 
above him, as that, tho 5 he was his Landlord, he 
durft never offer to fpeak to him in his Life, but 
with the greateft Submiffion and Pittance ; how he 

mould 



fhould come to call him out, and to talk to him ? 
of fuch things efpecially, and in Ib ferious a Manner. 

He then refle&ed with a ferious Joy, that this 
young Gentleman fhould be thus touch d with a 
folid Senfe of Religion and good Things, for it was 
eafy to fee, that it was not a flight or an in fine ere 
Work upon his Mind; it rejoiced his Heart, that the 
Heir of the Eftate ihould be thus likely to prove a 
good Man ^ and it prefently occurr J d to his Thoughts 
how great a Blefling fuch a Gentleman might be 
to the County, to the Poor, and to the uninftru- 
ted People round him - y as well by reforming their 
Manners, and reftraining their Vices, as perhaps 
by bringing Religion to be accepted and received 
among them by his Example. 

Thefe were fome of the Thoughts he came along 
with, and he pray d to God, as he walk d, very 
earneftly, that he might be made an Inftrument to 
bring the Soul of this Gentleman to the Know 
ledge of God, and to bow at the Footftool of his 
Redeemer as a true Penitent. 

His Prayers were not in vain : Prayer put up 
from fuch a Principle, and with fuch a Spirit, fel- 
dom is made in vain. 

He came to the Gentleman, while he was- in Bed j 
for he had given Order to his Servants to bring him 
up to his Chamber ; there he deliver d him the 
Bible, and told him he hop d he would find in it 
both Encouragement and Direction in the great 
Work which he was going about, and that God 
would blefs it to him, and would fupply by his 
Grace all the Wants of early Inftru&ion, which he 
had fb much complain d of. 

He received the poor Man with a glad Heart, 
made him fit down by him, and told him, God 
had made him the Inftrurncnt of fo much Good to 



him, that he could not part with him any more? 
while he ftay d in the Country. 

William^ fays he, God has made you a Father to 
me, and I ll be a Father to you and your Family , 
you fhall go no more Home to that poor Cottage, 
you fhall have Ibmething elfe to be thankful to 
God for than Bread and Water. 

Will. AucCt pleafe your Worfoip^ I have much more 
to be thankful for than that already but if God 
has been pleafed to affift me to do you good in this 
great Bufmefs of bringing fiich a Soul as yours to 
the Knowledge of himielf, 1 fhall have Caufe to 
praife him, beyond all that ever I had before. 

La. Well, William^ I have fent for your Wife 
and Children ; they fhall be my Care now, not 
yours ; I ll provide a Houfe for you *. 

Will. Your Worfhip will be a Father to me and 
my Family indeed then , I can never deferve fb 
much at your Hands , anSt pleafe you^ I am very 
willing to work ftill for my Bread, I thank your 
Worfhip. 

La. No, William, you fhall never work any 
more for your Bread ; you have been thankful for 
a little, William i I heard you laft Night, when 
you were at Prayer in your Family, and giving 
Thanks to God for the Plenty you enjoy d : Poor 
William ! you do not know how it affected me, 
that never gave God Thanks in my Life j now you 
fhall be thankful for better Things. 

Will. I fhall be greatly bound to be thankful to 
your Worfhip too, and t pleafe you. 

* Note, be gave him a Houfe find a little Farm 
Rent-free, to live on, and mads him bis Bailiff \ 
and Receiver of the Rents of the Manor. 

La. No, 



[8i 

La. No, William, do not thank me, thank God 
ftill. 

Will. And your Worfhip mend my Condition, I 
fear my Thahkfulnefs to God fhould abate : when 
I liv d fb near Mifery and Diftrefs, it made me 
more fenfible of God s Goodnefs, in keeping me 
out of it, than I may, I doubt, when I am full. 

La. I do not think you will ever be unthankful, 
William, that could be fo full of a Senfe of God s 
Mercy, even in the extremeft Poverty : But, come 
William, I fhall leave that j I have order d my Stew 
ard both to provide for and employ you, and I fhall 
fay no more of that now ; but my Bufinefs now is of 
another Nature : And firft, I muft tell you, how I 
have been employ d, * fince I left you laft Night. 

Will. O Sir ! give God the Praife, this is all his 
own Work and I hope your Comfort fhall increafe 
and continue : Did I not tell you, Sir, God would 
teach you to pray &gt; 

La. But now, William, what fhall I do with this 
Book ? 

Will Read it, Sir, and t pleafe you, and you will 
pray over it whether you will or no. 

La. But I am ftill ignorant ; I have no Minifter 
near me to explain it to me. 

Will. The Spirit of God will expound his own 
Word to you. 

La. Well, William, you fhall be my Minifter : 
Come, fit down by me, and read in it. 

* Here he gave the poor Man an Account of himfelf y 
and of his Reflections tipon what he had faid to 
him, and how infenfibly he had received fecrst 
Comfort, as above, and he found fears run down 
the poor Mans Cheeks^ all the while he was talk 
ing to him, for Joy. 

G Will. Alas I 



C 8* 3 

Will Alas ! I am a forry Creature to be a Teach 
er, Sir ; but, ancft pleafe you, I have turn d down 
fbme Places, which I thought of, to fhew your 
Worfhip for your firft reading. 

La. That s what I wanted, William. 
Will An ft pleafe you^ here s a Text, which tells 
you, what is the whole Defign of a written 
Goipel $ for what End the Life of our Bleffed Re 
deemer was laid down, and his Works and Do- 
drine were publifhed to the World ; and this feems 
to be the firft Thing we fhould know of the Scrip 
tures : For indeed it is the Sum and Subftance of 
them. 

La. Let me fee it, William. 
Will. Here it is, Sir : fhefe fbings are written^ 
that ye might believe , that Jefus is the Chrift tie Son 
of God) and thai believing ye might have Life thro* 
his Name^ John xx. 31. 

La. That is very comprehenfive indeed, William. 
Will. And here is another PafTage I folded down, 
left you fhould ask, how you fhould do to believe ; 
it is in Mark ix. 24. it is a Story of a Man, who 
brings his Child to our Lord to be healed, when 
poflefs d of an evil Spirit : Our Lord asks him, if he 
could believe $ If thou canft believe, all fhings are 
pojjible to him that beliweth j and v. 24. fbe Father 
cried out with fears^ Lord^ I believe , help thou my 
Unbelief. 

La. What do you * look at me for, William ? 
Will. O Sir ! I law your very Heart 3 I /know 
you pray d ; I know you iaid Amen in your very 
Soul to that Word : Glory be to the Grace of God, 
and to the Wprd of God for you ^ the Scripture, 
read with fuch a Heart as yours now is, will fbon 

* William looks full in his Face, while he repeated 
the Words. 

teach 



C 3 3 

teach you all that you want to know, and all that 
you want to do. 

The poor Gentleman was overcome with his 
Words, and could not fpeak for a good while - 
Tears came out of his Eyes, and at laft he burft 
out thus - y Lord ! what a Creature have I been, 
that have liv d without the Teachings of the Scrip 
ture all my Days ! 

Thus far this happy poor Man was made an 
Inftrument to the reftoring this Gentleman, and 
bringing him to the Knowledge of God, and to a 
Senfe of Religion; and, in a Word, to be a moft 
fmcere Chriftia n. We (hall hear farther of him 5 
after the next Dialogue. 



The End of the Second Dialogue, 




G 2 D I 



3 




DIALOGUE III. 




E muft now go back to the Family, which 
we began with : The Father of the 
young Ladies was gone into the Coun 
try to vifit his Sifter, who was newly 
become a Widow , little thinking whatever his 
eldeft Daughter had faid to him, that his youngeft 
Daughter would make fuch fhort Work with her 
Lover in his Abfence ; and that (he would quite 
put an End to his Courtfhip all at one Blow, as fhe 
had done, before he came Home again. 

He ipent fbme little Time at his Sifter s, to com 
fort her, and aflift her in her Affairs, after the 
Loft of her Husband - y and particularly becaufe her 
eldeft Son being of Age, and juft upon marrying, 
fhe intended to remove , the Houfe which was the 
Seat of the Family being to be fitted up for her 
new Daughter in Law : Upon thefe Circumftances 
he began the following Difcourfe with his Sifter. 

Bro. Well, pray Sifter, what kind of a Lady has 
my Nephew got ? is he well marry d ? 

Sift. Truly, Brother, I can hardly tell how to 
anfwer you that Queftion ; I believe every body 
will be better pleas d than I. 

Bro. Why, Sifter, what is the Cafe, pray, that 
you are fo difficult ? 



. O 



[ 85 ] 

Sift. O Brother ! the main Difficulty, that has 
made me all my Days the moft miferable of all 
Women. 

Ero. What ! Religion I warrant you , you would 
have had him have marry d a Nun ? 

Sift. Nay, I don t know why I fhould defire a 
religious Woman to come into the Family. 

Ero. I never faw the like of you. Sifter^ you are 
always a complaining , you have had one of the 
beft humour d, goodeft condition d, merrieft Fel 
lows in the World for this five and twenty Years, 
and yet you call your felf a miferable Woman : what 
could you ask in a Husband, that you had not in 
Sir "James ? 

Sift. Dear Brother, is this a Time for me to tell 
you what I wanted in Sir James^ when he is in his 
Grave ? I have wanted nothing in him, that a Wo 
man could defire in a Husband , he was rich in his 
Eftate, a lovely, compleat, handfbme Gentleman 
in his Perlbn, and held it to the laft ; he was the 
beft-humour d Man, that ever Woman had, ai&gt;d 
kind, as a Husband, to the laft Degree ; I never faw 
him in a Paflion in my Life ; he was a Man of 
good Senfe and good Learning a Man of Ho 
nour, good Breeding, and good Manners ; none 
went beyond him ; all the Country knows it, and 
lov d him for it. 

Ero, Very well ^ and yet my Sifter a miferable 
Woman ! would not any Man laugh at you ? I 
think, Sifter, if ever you were a miferable Woman ^ 
it is now - becaufe you have loft him. 

Sift. Well, that s true too , I am Ib now, many 
ways, and feme perhaps that you do not think of 5 
Brother. 

Ero. I know what you mean again ; I warrant 
you ha been whining over him, to think what is 
become of him now : Prithee what s that to you, 

G 3 or 



C 

or I ? what can you by your Concern for him, do 
in that Cafe, one Way or other ? can t you leave 
him to God s Mercy, now he s gone ? 

Sift. Dear Brother, it is in vain to anfwer you ; , 
I muft leave him to God s Mercy, and fo we muft 
leave ourfelves ; but do you think, tis not an 
affii&ing, dreadful Thing to me, that know how 
he liv d, and how he dy d, to refleft upon his Con 
dition, if I had any Love for him ? 

Bro. Why, how did he live ? he liv d like a 
Gentleman, as he was. 

Sift. That s true ; and that, as Times go, Bro 
ther, is to live like a Heathen ; you know well 
enough, what a Life I have had with him on that 
only Account , you know, he was fo far from 
having any Senfe of Religion, or of his Maker, 
on his Mind, that he made a Jeft and a Mock of 
it all his Days, even to the laft. 

Bro. I know he did not trouble himfelf much 
about it. 

Sift. Nay, he not only did not himfelf, but he 
did not really love to have any body about him 
religious : I have known many Gentlemen that 
have had no Religion themfelves, yet value it in 
others, and value and reverence good Men j but 
he thought all People Hypocrites, that talk d of any 
thing religious j and could not abide to fee any 
-Appearance of it in the Houfe ; it was the only 
Thing we had any Difference about, all our Days. 

Bro. And I think you were a great Fool to have 
any Difference with him about that : Could not 
you ha kept your Religion to your felf, and have 
let him alone to be as merry and as frolickfome as 
he would without it ? 

Sift. Nay, I was oblig d to do that, you may be 
fure j you know it well enough. 

Bro, Yes, 



[ 87 ] 

Ero. Yes, yes, I know he ferv d you many a 
merry Prank about your religious Doings, fuch as 
putting every now and then a Ballad in your Prayer 
Book, or your Pfalm Book ; and I think he put the 
Story of Tom. fhumb once in one of Dr. 
Sermons. 

Sift. No ; twas two Leaves out of Don 
He did a great many fuch Things as thofe to me. 

JBro. But they were all Frolicks, there was no 
thing of PafHon or ill Nature in them : Did not 
he write Ibmcthing in the Childrens Spelling-Eook 
once, and make them get it without Book inftead 
of the Leffon you had let them ? 

Sift. Yes, yes, he play d me a thoufand Tricks 
that way. 

Ero. I think, once he pafted a Receipt to make a 
Tanzy or a Cake, juft next to one of the Quefti- 
ons ot the Catechifm, where your Daughter s Lei- 
ion was. 

Sift. Ay, ay , and every now and then he would 
pafte a fingle printed Word, that he cut out of 
fome other Book, juft over another Word in their 
Books, fo cunningly, that they could not perceive 
it, and make them read Nonfenfe. 

Ero. Why, what Harm was there in all that ? 

Sift. Why, it fhew d his general Contempt of 
good Things, and making a Mock of them 3 other- 
wile the thing was not of ib much Value. 

Ero. Well, and wherein was you miierable, pray, 
in all this ? I don t underftand you in that at all. 

Sift. Why in this, that he was not at all a reli 
gious Man. 

Ero. But what was that to you, ftill ? 

Sift. Why, firft, Brother, there was all Family- 
Religion loft at one Blow , there could not be ib 
much as the Appearance of worlhipping or ac 
knowledging the God that made us j nay, we 

Gf 4 fcarce 



[88] 

fcarce ask d him Leave to eat our Meat, but in 
f ecret, as if we were afham d of it ; Sir James ne 
ver fo much as faid Grace or gave Thanks at Table 
in his Life, that I remember. 

Bro. And they that do, make it nothing but a 
Ceremony, and do it for Fafhion-fake , not that 
they think it fignifies any thing. 

Sift. Well, let them do it for Fafhion-fake then, 
if they will, but let them do it ; tis the moft 
rational Thing in the World, while we own that 
God gives us our Meat, that we fhould ask him 
Leave to eat it ; and thank him for it when we have 
done : But, alas ! this is but a fmall Part of the ill 
Confluences of an irreligious Family. 

Bro. Well, what more is there ? for this is no 
thing, but what is in thoufands of Families, who 
pretend to Religion on all fides. 

Sift. Why, all Relative Religion was loft too. 
ro. Relative Religion! Sifter, what do you 
mean by that ? 

Sift. Why, Firft, I mean by it, that Religion which 
ought to be between a Man and his Wife , fuch as 
comforting, encouraging, and directing one ano 
ther, helping one another on in the Way to Hear 
ven, aflifting one another in Chriftian Duties, 
praying with and for one another, and much more 
which I could name and which, without doubt, 
paffes to their mutual Comfort and Delight be 
tween a Man and his Wife, where they are mutu 
ally agreed in worfhipping and ferving God, and 
walking on in the happy Courieof a religious Life : 
All this has been loft, and it has been a fad Lois 
to me, Brother ; we have all need of Helps, and 
it is not every one that confiders, or indeed that 
knows, what Help, what Comfort, what Support, 
a religious Husband and Wife are or may be to 

one 



[8 9 

one another ; this, I fay, has been a fad Lofs to 
me, I afTure you. 

Bro. Thefe are nice Things , but methinks if 
you could not have thefe Helps from your Hut 
band, you might find them in other Things, fuch 
as Books, Minifters, &c. it need not be call d fuch 
a Lofs neither. 

Sift. Tis fuch a Lofs, Brother, that if I were 
to live my Days over again, I would not marry a 
Man that made no Profeffion of Religion ; no! 
tho 5 he had ten thoufand Pounds a year, and I had 
but a hundred Pounds to my Portion ; nay, I think 
I would work for my Bread rather. 

Bro. You lay a mighty Strefs upon thefe Things. 

Sift. Every Body, Brother, that has any Senfe 
of the Blefling of a religious Family, muft do fo ; 
Pray, if the honouring and ferving God be our 
Wifdom, our Duty, our Felicity, in this World, 
and our Way to the next, what Comfort, what 
Happinefs can there be, where thefe are wanting 
in the Head of the Family ? 

Bro. It is better to be fure, where they may be 
had ; but to lay all the Happinefs of Life upon it, 
as if a Man or a Woman could not be religious by 
themfelves, without they were both fb together, 
1 do not fee that ; I think you carry it too far. 

Sift. Fll convince you, that I do not carry it too 
far at all ; I do not fay, a Man or Woman may not 
be religious by themfelves, tho 3 the Husband or 
Wife be not fb ; but I fay, all the Help and Com 
fort of Relative Religion is loft ; the Benefit and 
Value of which none knows, but they that enjoy 
it, or feel the Want of it , but there is another 
Lofs, which I have not nam d, and which my 
Heart bleeds in the Senfe of, every Day. 

Bro. What s that I wonder ? 

Sift. \Vhy 



C 9 1 

Sift. Why Children ! Brother, Children ! you 
iee I have five Children : what dreadful Work has 
this want of Family-Religion made among my poor 
Children ! 

Bro. Why, Sir James did not hinder you in- 
ftru&ing your Children. 

Sift. Did he not ? tis true he did not, when they 
were little ; but has he not by Example and want 
of Reftraint encourag d all manner of Levity, 
Vanity, Folly, nay, and even Vice itfelf in them ? 
Do you think Children, thus let looie to humour 
their young Inclinations, and to the full fwing of 
their Pleafures, would not fbon fnatch themfelves 
out of the Arms of their Mother, and deliver 
themfelves from the Importunities of one that had 
no other Authority with them than that of Af- 
fecftion ? 

Bro. Why, truly, there is fbmething in that but 
I do not fee, that your Children are much the 
worfe ; there s your eldeft Son, Sir James that is 
now, he is a pretty young Gentleman ; I hear a 
\ r ery good Character of him. 

Sift. Why truly. Brother, as Times go now with 
Gentlemen, we may be thankful, neither he nor his 
Brother are debauch d or vicious ; and I am thank 
ful for it j they have good Characters for mo- 
deft pretty Gentlemen, as you fay but ftill, Bro 
ther, the main Thing is wanting ; I cannot be 
partial to them, tho they are my own , there is 
not the leaft Senfe or Notion of Religion in them ; 
they cannot fay they have no Knowledge of it, I 
took Care to deprive them of that Excuie, as ear 
ly as they knew any thing : But it goes no farther $ 
my eldeft Son will tell me fometimes, he has as 
much Religion as a Gentleman of a Thoufand a 
Year fhould have ; and his Brother tells me, if I 
would have had him have any Religion, I fhould 

have 



have kept our Parifh Living for him, and bred him 
a Parfon. 

Bro. They are very merry with you thcn 3 I find, 
upon that Subject. 

Sift. It is a dreadful Jeft to me, Brother ; I am 
far from taking it merrily ; you know, I was other- 
wife brought up ; our Father and Mother were of 
another fort of People ; they united their very 
Souls in the Work of God ; they join d in every 
good Thing with the utmoft Affedion ; they lov d 
the Souls as well as the Bodies of us their Chil 
dren j the Family was a Houfe of chearful Devo 
tion - y God was ierv d Night and Day , and, in & 
Word, as they liv d, fo they dy d , they dropp d 
comfortably off, and , went, as it were. Hand in 
Hand to Heaven. 

Bro. And yet. Sifter, you fee, we that were 
their Children were not all alike ; there s our 
Brother Jack^ and our Sifters Betty and Sarah ^ what 
can be {aid about them ? Pray what Religion are 
they of? 

Sift. Til tell yon, what can be faid, and what 
will ftick clofe to them one time or other, viz. If 
they are loft, it is not for want of good Inftru&ion, 
or good Example ; they cannot blame Father or 
Mother , it has been all their own : Parents may 
beg Grace for their Children, but they cannot give 
it them ; they may teach their Children good things, 
but they cannot make them Jearn ; that is the Work 
of God, and Parents muft fubmit it to him , but 
when Parents do nothing , nay, rather by Exam 
ple and Encouragement, lead their Children into 
Wickednefs ; what a dreadful thing is that ! 

Bro. Well, but our two Sifters were not led into 
Wickednefs ; and yet, as I faid, they value Reli 
gion as little as any Body. 

Sifi. Ay, 



Sift. Ay, Brother, I can tell you, how my Sifters 
were both ruin d for they were not fb educated. 

Bro. What do you mean by ruin d ? they are not 
ruin d, I hope. 

Sift. I mean as to their Principles, Brother, which 
1 think is the worft fort of Ruin -, they were ruin d 
by marrying profligate irreligious Husbands. 

Bro. I don t know what you mean by profligate, 
I think they are both very well marry d. 

Sift. Yes, as you call well marry d, and that I 
call being undone. 

Bro. And pray what has ruin d Jack ? for he s as 
gracelefs a Wretch almofl, as your Sir Raines was. 

Sift. Truly, Brother, juft the other Extreme, he 
has a wild, giddy, Playhoufe-bred Wife; full of 
Wit, and void of Grace, that never had any Re 
ligion, nor knew what the Meaning of it was ^ this 
bas ruin d mm: My Brother was a fober, well 
taught, well inclined young Man, as could be de- 
fired, but getting fuch a Tempter at his Elbow, 
inftead of a Wife to help him on to Heaven, Ihe 
has led him hood-wink d to the Gates of Hell, and 
o;oes chearfully along with him , a lad Inftance, 
Brother, of the want of Family Religion. 

Bro. Well, but what s all this to what we are 
upon, of Parents leading their Children into Wick- 
ednefs ? he was not led fb by his Parents. 

Sift. But you fee his Children are. 

Bro. I cannot lay that , few Parents, tho 9 they 
are bad themielves, will prompt their Children to 
be fo too : that s what I have feldom leen. 

Sift. Well, that has been the Cafe of my Family ; 
and that it is, that has broke my Heart, and gives 
me Caufe to fay, I have been the moft miferable 
Woman alive, 

Bro. But you have this Comfort ftill, that you 
have not been the Occaiion of it. 

Sift, That s 



93 J 

Sift. That s true ; but even that does not lefien 
the Grief of feeing my Children loft, and ruin d 
before my Face, and their own Father be the In- 
ftrument to it. 

Bro. They cannot be {aid to be ruin d ^ they are 
very fine Gentlemen, I allure you. 

Sift. They are ruin d, as to the beft Qualification 
of a Gentleman. 

Bro. I warrant you, they do not think fb. Sifter : 
Religion makes us good Chriftians, that is con- 
fefs d j but I do not fee it makes a Gentleman : 
what is more frequent, than to fee Religion make 
Men cynical, and four in their Tempers, morofe 
and furly in their Converfation ? they think them- 
felves above the Practice of good Manners or good 
Humour. 

Sift. This is all by the Miftake of the Thing j 
tis want of Religion, that makes Men thus ; it is 
in good Breeding, as it is in Philofophy a little 
Philofbphy, a little Learning makes a Man an 
Atheift, a great deal brings him back, and makes him 
a Chriftian 3 fo a little Religion makes a Man a 
Churl, but a great deal teaches him to know him- 
lelf, and be a Gentleman ; when good Principles 
join with good Manners, how fhould they but 
illuftrate the Education, and fet off the Breeding 
of a Man of Quality ; as it s a Miftake to fay, that 
Jewels fhould be worn by none but homely Women, 
it is juft the contrary ; fb Religion adorns Educa 
tion, as Jewels give real Beauty a double Luftre. 

Bro. Your Notions are delicate , you are very 
nice, it feems, in thefe Things, Sifter ; tho I muft 
confefs, I am of your Mind, when I confider it 
well. 

Sift. Let the Scripture be Judge, whether the 
Rules of Life dictated by the t\ poftles to the Chri 
ftian Churches were not fuch a as not only agree 

well 



C 94 ] 

well with that of a Gentleman, but indeed with 
that, without which no Man can be a Gentleman 
if you look almoft through all the ,Epiftles in the 
New Teftament, you will find it fo , I ll name you 
a few. 

Phil. i. 9, 10. tfbat your Love may abound in Know 
ledge and all Judgment There s 
Wifdom and Learning. 
fhat you may approve things that are 
excellent There s folid Judgment. 
fhat ye may he fincere, and without 

Offence. There is the Honefty 

and Open-heartednefi of a true 
Gentleman. 

I Pet. Love as Brethren, le pitiful^ he cour 

teous There s the Charity, th( 
Beneficence, and the good Breed 
ing of a Gentleman. 

Col. iii. 12. Put on Bowels of Mercy , Kindnefs^ 
Humblenefs of Mind , Meeknefs,&ic. 
, Who can be a Gentleman 
without thefe ? 

Col. iv. 8. fflhatfoever things are honefl, juft, 
pure^ lovely^ and of good Report 9 
think of thefe things. What 
think you now ? can the Practice 
of thefe things difhonour a Gen 
tleman ? or do they honour and 
illuftrate, and indeed make a 
Gentleman ? 

Phil. ii. 3. In Lowlinefs of Mind let each efleem 
others better than tbemfelves Wliat 
becomes a Gentleman more than 
fuch Humility ? 

I could 



C 96 ] 

no Religion, dwell with a Wife according to Know* 
ledge ? i Pet. iii. 7. and what is the Reafbn the 
Apoftle gives for this Chriftian Rule in marrying, 
but this, fbat your Prayers be not kindred ? 

Bro. Why Sir James did not hinder your Prayers, 
Sifter. 

Sift. Did he not ? Sir James is in his Grave, and 
tis not my Part to fay what he did j but tis the 
mutual Prayers of Husband and Wife together, that s 
meant in that Scripture : Do you think Sir James 
ever pray d with his Wife ? 

Bro. No, I believe he did not indeed, nor with 
any body elfe. 

Sift. And do you think, that s the Life of a Chri 
ftian, or the Manner of a Chriftian Family, Bro 
ther ? you and I were not bred up fb, and yet our 
Father was a Gentleman, and wanted neither Fa 
mily nor Fortune equal to any of them : Sir James 
is in his Grave, and I have no more to lay of that ; 
but if I were as young, as I was when I marry d 
him, and were to chooie again, I would not marry 
the beft Nobleman in the Nation, if he was not a 
religious Man $ all Enjoyments in the World are 
nothing without it, unleis I refolved to caft off all 
Religion too, and where would that end ! 

Bro. This is juft my Daughter again. 

Sift. Befides, Brother, confider another thing : 
how many young Women and young Men too, 
who have been religioufly bred, has this Way of 
Marrying been a Snare to ? that when they come 
to Husbands with no Religion, or to giddy, Joofe, 
profane Wives, they drop all their own Principles, 
and become empty of all Religion too at laft : you 
know, how it has been with our Brothers and Sifters, 
as I hinted to you before. 

Bro. There s 



Bro. There s no arguing with you. Sifter, who 
have had fo much Experience of it : but I tell my 
Daughter, that perhaps me may convert her Husband: 

Sift. I don t know my Niece s Cafe, and fo I 
can fay little to it, but if this be it, that me re- 
fufes a Man for his being of no . Re teuton, me is in 
the right , fhe is a good religious Child herielf: my 
Sifter educated all your Children very well, and if 
fhe marries a Gentleman, as the fimes go now, that 
thinks Religion below him, and unbecoming, as 
moft of them do^ me is undone. 

Bro. So fhe fays; and has juft your Arguments ; 
that made me fay, you had been documenting her, : 

Sift. No, indeed, Brother, not 1 5 but Til tell 
you what I have been , I have been a Memento to 
the Family ; and don t doubt but my Sifter might 
fhew them the Danger of it by their Aunt s Exam 
ple : I pray God, they may take the Warning : I 
know me was not wanting to them in her Inftru- 
dlion, and in cautioning them againft every thing 
that was hurtful j and if fhe forgot this of caution 
ing them never to marry a Man of no Religion, 
then fhe was not that wile Woman I took her for. 

Bro. I know not who has caution d her, nor who 
has inftru&ed her, but if I had not took it up very 
warmly, fhe had ruin d herielf with her Nicety ; 

* I ll tell you how it is. 

Sift. Well, Brother, you will allow me to be 
free with you ; I muft needs fay, I think you arc 
in the wrong. 

Bro. Yes, yes ; I expe&ed that from you. 

* Here he tells her the whole Story of bis Daughter 
and the Gentleman^ to the Time of his coming from 
Home, he not knowing what had h append fence. 

H Sift. I 



Sift. I fpeak my Experience, Brother ; I wouM 
not force a Child s Inclination in fuch a Cafe for 
the World, 

Bro. What do you mean by Inclination ? fhe forces 
her own Inclination , for her Sifter fays, fhe loves 
the Gentleman, and has own d it , and yet upon 
this fimple Nicety, fhe pretended to crofs herfelf, 
affront the Gentleman, and difoblige her Father. 

Sift. And will not all that convince you then, 
that fhe a&s by Strength of Judgment, and upon 
Principles of Conference? if it be as you fay, it is 
the nobleft Refblution that ever I heard of, fmce 
the Story of St. Catharine. 

Bro. Don t tell me of your noble Refolutions, 
and your fine Principles, j it is a firft Principle, an 
original Command of God, that Children fhould 
obey their Parents. 

Sift Ay, Brother, where the Parent commands 
nothing that clafhes with the Laws of God , but 
then, Brother, our Authority ceafes. 

Bro. But I am fure, this Match is for her Advan 
tage, and I ll make her have him. 

Sift. That s a fevere Refblution, and if it be 
againft her Confidence, you may fail in all you 
refblve upon befides, tis evident you ought not 
to refblve fb. 

Bro. What ? am I not her Father ! has it not been 
always the Right of Fathers to give their Daugh 
ters in Marriage ? nay, to bargain for them, even 
without their Knowledge: Did not Caleb promife 
his Daughter Achfah in Marriage to him, that fhould 
fmite Kirjatbjepber 9 not knowing who it fhould be, 
or whether the Girl fhould like him or no ? and are 
there not many fuch Inftances in the Scripture ? 

Sift. All this is true, Brother : but I dare not 
think the Laws of God or Man give Parents that 
Authority now. 

Bro. Then 



C 99 1 

$ro. Then you allow my Daughters to marry 
who they pleafe, without putting any Weight upon 
my Confent one Way or t other ^ would you give 
your Daughters that Liberty ? 

Sift. No, Brother, you wrong me , but there is 
a great Difference between your negative Autho 
rity and your poiltive Authority in the Cafe of a 
Daughter , as there is a great Difference between 
your Authority in the Marriage of a Daughter and 
the Marriage of a Son. 

Bro. I know my Lady Sifter is a nice Civilian : 
Pray explain your felf. 

Sift. I can take all your Banters patiently, Bro 
ther, and I will explain my felf, contradict me if 
you can I diftinguifh them thus, If your Daugh 
ter defires to marry any Perfon you do not like, I 
grant that you have Power by the Law of God to 
forbid her pofitively : The Scripture is plain, you 
have Power to difTolve even a Vow or Promife of 
her s, to m^rry or not to marry at all : But if your 
Daughter is not willing to marry one you may like, 
1 do not think, you have the fame Right of Com 
mand ; for you might then command her to mar 
ry a Perfon (he may have an Abhorrence of^ and 
an Averfion to, which could not be , the very 
Laws of Matrimony forbid it ; (he could not repeat 
the Office of Matrimony at her Marriage, viz. to 
love and honour him : and to promife what fhe knew 
at the fame Time would be impoflible for her to 
perform, would be to perjure herfelf, (.for the Mar 
riage Promife is a folemn Oath ) and to deceive her 
Husband in the groffeft Manner , neither of which 
would be lawful for her to do. 

Bro. Well, well, for all your fine Harangue, I 
have rtiade her do it. 

Sift. Are they marry d then. Brother ? 

H 2 Sro. No y 



3 

Bro. No ; but they fhall, as fbon as I come 
Home. 

Sift. I wifh her well j fhe is a Child that deferves 
very well, I am fure $ {he is a ferious, fenfible, reli 
gious Child, and will be an extraordinary Woman ; 
but if you force her to marry, as you fay you will, 
remember my Words, Brother^ you will make her 
miferable, as I have been. 

Bro. Yes, yes, fo fhe will , juft fo miferable , 
fhe will have a good Husband, and about 2000 /. a 
year Eftate ; a very miferable Condition truly ! 

Sift. All that s nothing , nor will it leflen the 
Mifery at all to a good Woman ; I am fure fhe had 
better go to Service, or marry a good, fbber, reli 
gious Shoemaker j and I would do fb my felf, if I 
had my Choice to make again ; therefore I fay it 
again, dear Brother, remember my Words -j if you 
do it, you make her miferable, and will repent it. 

Bro. Nay, nay, I am not fb pofitive neither $ I 
would not ruin my Child, you may be fure $ but 
J fhall fee when I come Home. 

Sift. Pray let me hear how it goes, when you 
come Home. 

fro. So you fhall, I promife you. 

, 

After this Difcourfe he ftay d but two or three 
Days with his Sifter, and then went Home : when 
he came Home, to be fure the firft Queftion he 
ask d of his eldeft Daughter was, how Mr. 
did ? and if he was in the Houfe ? 

Da. In the Houfe ? No, Sir, / think not. 
Fa. Why you think not ? when was he here ? 
Da. Never, Sir, fince the Evening after you 
went away. 

Pa. Why, fhe has not fervd me fo, has fhe? 

Da. Serv d 



^ 

Da. Serv d you. Sir ! Nay 9 it s he has ferv d 
you fo ; for he faid the laft Time he was here, 
he would wait on her again, but he has never been 
here fince. 

Fa. Then fhe muft have us d him very ill, I am 
fure, he had never done fb elfe , where is ihe ? 
call her down. 

Da. Sir, my Sifter is gone to my Aunt *s at 
Hampftead. 

Fa. Very well ; finely manag d I aflfure you ! 
Well, I ll manage her, and all of you, if this be 
the Way I am to be ufed. {He is in a great PaJJion. 

Da. I believe there is nothing done to ufe you 
ill, Sir, or to provoke you in the leaft. 

Fa. What is me gone out of the Houfe then for ? 

Da. Sir, you are Ib angry with her, when you 
talk with her, that you fright her , I was afraid, laft 
time you talk d to her, you would have thrown her 
into Fits , and fb we really all advis d her to go 
Home with my Aunt laft Week, when Ihe was in 
Town, and ftay there, till we could fee what you 
will pleaie to have her do. 

Fa. Do ! fhe knows what I expefted fhe fhould 
do. 

Da. As to marrying Mr. Sir, that fhe can never 
do - y and the has talk d it to him fo handfbmely, that 
Sir, I affure you, he faid himfelf he could not an- 
fwer her Objections, that ihe had Reafbn for what 
Ihe did, and he could not urge it any farther. 

Fa. Why^ did not you fay, he promifed to come 
again ? 

Da. Yes, he did fay he would wait on her again, 
but he is gone into the Country, 1 hear. 

Fa. Well, I ll fay no more till he comes again, 
then. 

Da. Nay, if he had come again, fhe had refolv d, 
Ihe would not have feen him. 

H 3 Fa. Say 



c 

Fa. Say you fo ! I ll be as pofitive as fhe ; if fhe 
will fee him no more, fhe fhall fee me no more, 
I ll let her know fo much. 

.Da. I am forry Things are fb ; but I am fure, fhe 
will never fee him, if fhe never comes home more. 

Fa. Til try that , I ll go over to Hampflead in the 
Morning, I ll fee what I can do with her. 

Her Sifter was now in as great a Fright as be 
fore ; fhe knew the Principle her Sifter went upon 
was good, and fhe was very loth to have her thruft 
by Violence into a State of Life fhe fb abhorr d ; 
and this made her take more Freedom with her Fa 
ther than fhe would have done, and take more 
Care of her Sifter too, left her Father fhould bring 
her away, and marry her by Force ; fo fhe fent a 
Man and Horfe away the fame Night to Hampftead 
to her Sifter, to give her Notice of her Father s 
Refblution to come over in the Morning, and 
giving her an account of what had pafs d, advifing 
her to be gone put of his Way fomewhere elfe. 

As the young Lady had acquainted her Aunt 
with the whole Story, her Aunt was fo affected 
with it, and fo abundantly juftify d her Conduct 
in it, that upon this News, fhe told her, fhe would 
place her at a Friend s Houfe a little way off, and 
fhe would undertake to talk to her Father, when 
he came , and if fhe could noj bring him to any 
Reafon, fhe would fend her the next Day into the 
Country to her other Aunt, the Widow of Sir 
Barnes ; fb me fent her away in the mean 

time in her own Coach to Hindon^ a Village be 
yond Hampftead^ with a Maid and a Footman to 
attend her, till her Father was gone. 

In the Morning (as be /aid he would*) her Father 
^ame to Hampftead^ and as fbon as he had faluted 
his Sifter, he asks for his Daughter ; his Sifter told 

him 



r "3 . 

him (he was gone a little way to vifit a Friend of 
her s, but defired him to fit down. 

She faw he was difturb d and uneafy. Come, Bro- 
ther, fays fhe, he calm and moderate, and do not 
treat your Child with fo much Warmth $ let you and 
I talk of this Matter-, my Niece has given me a full 
Account of the whole Story. 

father. Has fhe fo ? but fhe lhall give me ano 
ther Account of it, before ihe and I have done 
yet. 

Sifter. I find. Brother, you confult your Paffions 
only in all this Matter, and I muft tell you, they 
are bafe Counfellors ; I wifh you would ad: in cool 
Blood, and confult your Reafbn a little too. 

Bro. So I think I do - 3 and I won t be inftrufted 
by my Children. 

Sift. No, HO, Brother, it s evident you acl: too 
violently , if you confulted your Reafbn, I am fure 
it would tell you, that you are all wrong : Did ever 
a Father hurry and terrify his Children fb with his 
Fury and his Paflions, that they are afraid to fee 
him, and ready to fwoon when they hear he is 
coming to them - 3 and then do you confider, what 
a Child this is, that you ufe thus ? 

Bro. I ufe her ! fhe ufes me, I think ! and abufes 
me too. 

Sift. Be patient, Brother, be patient ; Paflion I 
tell you, is an ill Couniellor ; confider the Cir- 
cumftances of your Child, and hear what fhe has 
to fay. 

Bro. What do you mean by hearing ? I think fhe 
ha n t heard what I have to fay, when fhe flies thus 
from Place to Place, as if fhe Was a Thief. 

Sift. That s becaufe you do not acl: like a Chri- 
ftian Father , you make your felf a Terror to your 
Children $ this dares not fee you , thofe at Home 

H 4 dare 



r i4 

dare not fpeak to you ; why, what do you mean, 
Brother ? you did not treat them thus, when they 
were little : Do you confidcr what they are now ? 
That they are Women grown, and ought to be 
treated as fuch ; and deferving Women too they 
are, that the W orld fees , and you expofe your 
felf moft wretchedly to treat them thus : 1 am very 
free with you. 

Ero. How do I treat them ? what, to provide a 
Gentleman of 2000 /. a year for the youngeft, a 
handfome, complete young Gentleman as any the 
Town can produce, and every way unexception 
able ; nay, fhe own d herfelf he was one fhe could 
like very well , and to have her affront him and her 
Father, and to diimifs him of her own Head, with 
out confulting me, or flaying till I came to Town ! 
and this after five Weeks keeping him Company, 
and when fhe knew the Writings were drawing for 
her Marriage-Settlement j is this a decent way of 
treating a Father : I think you are free with me 
indeed, to take their Parts in it 

Sift. Well, Brother, fuppofe all this to be juft 
as you relate it, yet if the young People could not 
hit #, do we not always, when we make Propofals 
one to another for our Children, make this Condi 
tion, viz. if the young People can agree ? and do 
we not put them together to talk with one another, 
on purpofe that they may be acquainted, and fee 
whether they can like one another, or no ? 

Bro. Well^ and fb did T : Has he not waited up 
on her Ladyfhip, / tell you^ five Wrecks ? was not 
that Time enough to know, whether fhe lik d him 5 
or no? 

, Sift. Time enough to like or diflike, I grant it ; 
and fhe tells you plainly, fhe does not like, and 
cannot marry him - y what would you have ? and as 
to putting him off in your Abfence, Ihe fays, fhe 

told 



C "5 

told you her Mind pofmvely, before you went out 
of Town, and would have given you her Reafbns 
for it ; but you treated her with fb litttle Temper, 
that fhe had no Room to fpeak 5 and at laft told her 
you would have none of her Reafbns., but expect 
ed fhe fhould have him 3 how do you anfwer that 
pray ? 

Bro. I knew what fhe had to fay well enough $ 
however, I gave her till my Return to confider of 
it j what had fhe to do to turn him off without my 
Knowledge, and affront a Gentleman of his Qua 
lity ? it s an Infuk upon her Father, and a Scandal 
to the whole Family. 

Sift. That s all anfwer d by what I faid before, 
that ihe told you pofitively, before you went out of 
Town, fhe would never have him, and indeed had 
refolv d then, to fee him no more ^ for what mould 
a young Woman keep a Man Company for, when 
fhe refblves not to have him ? whatever you may 
think, Brother, it would not have been very hand- 
fome on her Side 3 befides, I can allure you, your 
Daughters are none of thofe Women, that do any 
thing unbecoming. 

Bro. Why, fhe did keep him Company after it, 
for all that. 

Sift. Never but once, that fhe might difmifs him 
civilly, and that was merely a Force of your own 
upon her, becaufe your Paflion with her obliged 
her to do that Work herfelf, which you ought to 
have done for her. 

Bro. Well, fhe s an undutiful, difrefpe&ful Crea 
ture to me ; I ha n t been an unkind Father to her j 
but I ll let her know herfelf my own way. 

Sift. You ll confider of that, Brother, when your 
Paffion is over. 

Bro. Not I ; I am no more in a Paffion now, 
than I was before. 

Sift. That 



r 

Sift. That may well be indeed ; becaufe you 
were then in fuch a Paflion, it feems, as difbrder d 
all your Family : Is Paflion a proper Weapon to 
manage Children with. Brother ? 

Bro. It s impoflible for any Man to be thus treat 
ed bv his Children, and not be in a Paflion : In 
gratitude is a Thing no Man can bear with Pa 
tience. 

Sift. But who fhall be Judge between you, Bro 
ther ? for it s poflible you may be in the wrong as 
well as your Children ; and take this with you for 
a Rule in all fuch Breaches, that generally thofe 
that are in the greateft Paflion, are moft in the 
wrong. 

Bro. No, no $ I am fure I am not in the wrong. 

Sift. That s making your felf Judge, Brother 3 I 
think you fhould let fbme judicious, fbber, impar 
tial Perfbn hear your Child, lince you won t hear 
her your felf. 

Bro. What, do you think I ll have Arbitrators 
between me and my Children ? 

Sift. I hope you will act the Father with them, 
then, and not the Madman, as ( / muft be plain 
with you ) I think you do now. 

Bro. Yes, yes, I ll act the Father with them, 
while they aft the Part of Children with me, but 
no longer. 

Sift. If God fhould deal fb by us all, what would 
become of us ? think of that, Brother, when you 
make Refolutions againft your own Children - 3 and 
without juft Caufe too. 

Bro. Why, you won t pretend this is without 
Caufe ? 

Sift. Truly, Brother, I do not fee any Caufe you 
have to be offended with your Child ; it s true, you 
brought a very fine young Gentleman to court her, 
and I know you were pleafed with the Thoughts 

of 



C 107 1 

of fuch an Alliance in your Family his Eftate, his 
Perfon, his Character, were all pleating ; but here s 
the Cafe, your Daughter has been religioufly and 
virtuoufly educated by my Sifter. 

Bro. By your Sifter only, I fuppofe ; you might 
have put that in too. 

Sift. Truly, Brother, I do not charge you with 
the Crime of being any way concern d in the reli 
gious Part of their Education. 

Bro. Did I obftruct it, or blame her for it ? I 
left them to her , it was none of my Bufmefs. 

Sift. That s a fad way of difcharging your Duty 
to your Children, Brother, in their Education : 
But that s none of my Bufmefs , we will leave that 
now - they have been foberly and religioufly edu 
cated, whoever did it ; and they are very fbber, 
religious young Women, efpecially this youngeft 
above them all ; they are an Honour to your Fa 
mily, and to the Memory of my Sifter their Mo 
ther. 

Bro. But none to me, / confefs that. 

Sift. They will be fo to you too in the End, if 
you know how to make yourfelf an Honour to 
them. 

Bro. Well, I ll make them fear me, if they won t 
honour me. 

Sift* You are hardly in Temper enough to talk 
to : however, let me go on I tell you, they have 
been fb bred, and they fb well anfwer their Edu 
cation, that they are an Honour to your Family ; 
their Mother inftill d Principles of Virtue, Piety, 
and Modefty in their Minds, while they were very 
young. 

Bro. Well, I know all this. 

Sift. Pray be patient ; among the reft this was 
one, fbat a religious Life was the only Heaven upon 
Earth , they were her &lt;uery Words : that Honour, E- 

ftate a 



r i* 

ftate, Relation, and all human Pleafures, had no 
Relifh without it, and neither pointed to a future 
Felicity, or gave any prefent, at. leaft^ that was fo- 
tid and valuable ; and on her Death-bed fhe cau- 
tion d them never to marry any Man, that did not 
at leaft profefs to own Religion, and acknowledge 
the God that made him, whatever Fortunes or Ad 
vantages might offer as to this World. 

Bro. She might have found fomething elfe to do, 
when me was juft at her End, I think. 

Sift. Brother, let me be free ivitb you , me had two 
bad Examples to let before them, where a want of 
a religious Husband had made two Families very 
miferable, tho they had every thing elfe that the 
World could give ; and one was your own Sifter. 

Bro. And the other herfelf, I underftand you, 
Sifter. 

Sift. Be that, as the Senfe of your own Conduct 
direds you to think, Brother, that s none of my Bu- 
finefs fhe was my Sifter, and therefore I fay no 
more of that : But thefe are all Digreffions : The 
young Women, your Daughters, thus inftru&ed, 
and thus religioufly inclin d, are grown up j you 
bring a Gentleman to court one of them, who, 
with all the Advantages his Perfbn and Circum- 
ftances prefent, yet wants the main Thing, which 
me looks for in a Husband ; and without which fhe 
declares me will not marry, no not if a Peer of 
the Realm courted her : Pray what have you to fay 
to fuch a Refolution^ that you fhould oppofe it? 

Bro. How does fhe know who is religious, and 
who not ? fhe may be cheated fooneft, where fhe 
expeds it moft. 

Sift. That s true ; and fhe has the more need to 
have her Father s Affiftance to judge with, and affift 
her in her Choice. 

Bro. I 



Bro. I don t enquire into that Part, not I. 
Sift. No, I perceive you don t -, fhe has there 
fore the more Reafon to look to herfclf. 

Bro. This Gentleman may be as religious as any 
Body, for ought me knows , how can me pretend 
to know, I fay, who is religious ? 

Sift. Tis eafier to know who is not religious, 
than who is ; but this Gentleman has been fo kind 
to her, and fo honeft, as to put it out of all doubt, 
it feems for he has frankly owned to her, that 
as to Religion, he never troubled his Head about 
it ; that tis a Road he never travelled , he makes a 
Jeft of it all, as moft young Gentlemen now a-days 
do- tells her, that his Bufinefs is to choole a -Wife 
firft, and then perhaps he may chooie his Religion, 
and the like ; is this the Gentleman you would have 
your Daughter marry ? Brother ! is this your Care 
for your Child ! is it for refufing fuch a Man as this 
that you are in a Paffion with your Child | I blufh 
for yon. Brother ! I entreat you, confider what 
you are a doing. 

Bro. I will never believe one Word of all this $ 
I am fure it can t be true. 

Sift. I am fatisfy d, every Word of it is true, and 
you may inform your felf from your other Chil 
dren, if you think it worth your while. 

Bro. I ll believe none of them. 

Sift. Not while you are in this Rage, I believe 
you will not , for Pafiion is as deaf as tis blind 
but if you would cool your Warmth, and let your 
Reafon return to its Exercife, and to its juft Do 
minion in your Soul, then you will hear and be 
lieve too i for when we are calm, and our Paflions 
laid, tis eaiy to judge by the very telling a Story, 
whether it be true or no j but it is not to my Ar 
gument whether it be true or not. 

Bro. No ! 



[ no] 

Bro. No ! Pray what is to your Argument then ? 

Sift. Why this, whether you were not in the 
wrong, if it is true. 

Bro. In the wrong ? in what pray ? 

Sift. Why, to treat your Child with fuch Fury 
and ungovern d Paflion as you do ? 

Bro. Why how muft Children be treated, when 
they are infolent and difbbedient ? 

Sift. Even then, not with Paflion and Heat, Bro 
ther : there is no Cafe in the World, that can po 
fibly happen, which ought to make a Father act in 
a Paflion with his own Children. 

Bro. No ! how muft he correct them then, when 
they do evil Things ? 

Sift. All with Calmnefs and AffecSion, Brother ; 
not with Rage and Fury , that is not correcting 
them, that is fighting with them ; he muft pity 
when he punifhes, exhort when he corrects ; he 
fhould have the Rod in his Hand, and Tears in his 
Eyes ; he is to be angry at their Offences, but not 
with their Perfons : The Nature of Correction im 
plies all this 3 tis for the Child s Good, that a Pa 
rent corrects, not for his own Pleafure ; he muft 
be a Brute, that can take Pleafure in whipping a 
Child * 

Bro. Well, I am not a correcting my Children 
now, they are paft that. 

Sift. Yes, yes, Brother, you are correcting now 
too 3 there are more ways of Correction than the 
Rod and the Cane $ when Children are grown up, 
the Father s Frowns are a part of Correction, his 
juft Reproaches are worfe than Blows j and Paflion 

* He fate fllent here a good while, and faid not a 
IVord^ bis Conference convincing him, that fije was 
in the right ; at length he fats it off thus. 

fhould 



C " ] 

fliould be no more concerned in that part, than in 
the other. 

Bro. Thefe are fine-fpun Notions - 9 but what is 
all this to the Cafe in hand ? 

Sift. Why yes, it is all to the Cafe in hand , I am 
fbrry there is fo clofe an Application to be made 
of it ; for if we are not to be in a PaiTion with 
our Children, even when we have juft Reafbn to 
correct them, and fee Caufe to be difpleafed with 
them j fure we muft not be in a Paflion with them, 
when there is no Caufe for Difpleafure ; I fay, Dif 
pleafure, for Caufe of Paflion with our Children 
there can never be ; all Paflion is a Sin, and to fin 
becaufe our Children fin, can never be our Duty, 
nor any Means to fhew them theirs. 

Bro. Does not the Scripture fay. Be angry, and 
Jin not ? 

Sift. If you would read that Scripture according 
to its genuine Interpretation, it would help to con 
vince you of all I have fa id : Be angry, but be not 
in a PaJJion ; to be angry may be juft, as the Oc- 
cafion for it may make it neceffary , but be not 
immoderately angry, for that is to fin, and no Caufe 
of Anger can make that necelfary , and therefore 
another Text fays, Let all Bitternefs and Wrath be 
fut away from among you, Eph. iv. 13. Thefe are 
Scriptures, Brother, for our Condud: even with 
Strangers ; but when we come to talk of Children, 
tis ten.thoufand times more binding j we cannot 
be in a Paflion at any Body without Sin , but to 
be in a PaJJion at our Children, that s all Diftracti- 
on, and an Abomination, and tends to nothing but 
Mifchief 

Bro. You are a healing Preacher, Sifter ; I con- 
fefs, there is fome Weight in what you lay , but 
what can I do, when Children are thus provoking? 

t Sift. Do ! 



C M* 3 

Sift. Do! go Home, and conflder the Cafe ma 
turely, and pray to God to direct you to your Du 
ty $ if you did that ierlouily, you would foon fee, 
that your Child is not to blame, and that you are 
very much in the wrong to prefs her in a 7hing 
of this Nature. 

Bro. Nay, nay, don t fay fo neither , you may 
fay I am wrong to be fo angry, but you cannot fay 
I am not very ill ufed ; that I am politive in. 

Sift. Let me hear you fay fo, when with Tem 
per and Calmnefs you have heard the whole Cafe 5 
if you will not bear to hear it from your Daughter 
herfelf, hear it from her Sifters , and be compos d 
and impartial, and then I fhall fee, you will be of 
another Mind. 

Bro. I can t promife you, I can have -fb much 
Patience with them. 

Sift. Well, till you can, you can t fay, you are 
doing the Duty of a Father. 

Here the Difcourfe ended, and he goes home 
again ; and the young Lady, thinking me had fome 
Encouragement from this Difcourfe to hope, that 
he would be calmer with her, went Home too in 
the Afternoon, and took Care to let her Father 
know it, and fee her in the Houfe , however, he 
took little Notice of her for fome time. 

The next Morning he call d his eldeft Daugh 
ter to him, and began another Difcourfe with her 
upon the Affair, thus : 

Come, Child, fays the Father^ now Paflion is a 
little over, and I am difpofed, however ill I am 
yfedy to bear it as well as I can ; pray give me a 
true Account of this foolifh Girl, your Sifter, and 
how me has manag d her felf, fince I have been 
gone. 

Da. What 



Da. What about Mr. , Sir ? 

Fa. Ay, ay , was ever any Wench fo mad, to 
affront fuch a Gentleman as he was ? 1 wifh he had 
pitch d upon you, my Dear. 

Da. It s my Mercy, Sir, he did not , and I de- 
fire to be thankful for it, as long as I live. 

Fa. What do you mean by that, Child ? 

Da. Becaufe I have not been forc d to diibblige 
my Father, or to marry againft my Mind, as my 
Sifter has been - 3 two 1 hings I know not which are 
moft terrible to me fo much as to think of 

Fa. Why, you would not have been fuch a Fool 
to have v run into thefe Scruples too, would you ? I 
have a better Opinion of your Senie. 

Da. I defire your good Opinion of me may al 
ways continue- and therefore, Sir, as I am not 
tried, I hope you will not put a Queftion to me, 
that tis not fb proper for me to anfwer^ 

Fa. Well, well, be eafy, Child, I have a religi 
ous Man in my Eye for you, I affure you we 
will have no need of fuch foolilh Breaches on your 
Account. 

Da. It s time enough, Sir, to talk of that. 

Fa. Well then, as to your Sifter : you know 
when I left her, I charg d her to entertain him till 
my Return, and you know what Refblutions I 
made if fhe did not. 

Da. Dear Father, you went away in a Paflion - y 
fte had declared positively fhe would not have him, 
and fhe could not think of entertaining a Gentle 
man, after fhe had refolv d not to have him ; it 
would not have been handfome : However, I did 
over-perfuade her to fee him that Night you went 
away ; in hopes, truly, that fhe might have had 
ibme Opportunity to be better fa^fied in her main 
Scruple about Religion, and that fhe might have 
got it over : But on the contrary, he made fuch 

I an 



C 



an open Declaration of his Contempt of all Religi 
on, and his perfect Ignorance of any thing about 
it, that I could not but wonder at it fure he muft 
think we were a Family of Atheifts, or elfe he 
did it to affront her, for he could never think it 
could be agreeable to any of us , and upon this 
fhe made the fame open Declaration to him, that 
fhe could never think of joyning herfelf to a Man 
fo perfectly void of Principles - 3 and fb they parted 
as it were by Agreement. 

Fa. Was it fojhort between them then ? 
Da. No, Sir, there was a great deal more they 
did not part with Difguft at all ; I am perfuaded 
he loves Her entirely, and I am fure fhe loves him 
too j I wifh fhe did not. 

Fa. And is fhe not a double Fool then, to thwart 
thus both her Fortune and her Fancy, and all for 
fhe knows not what ? Had he been a fawning Hy 
pocrite, that could have talk d of Religion, whe 
ther he had had any or no 3 fhe would have taken 
him. 

Da. She would not have been eafily deceived, 
Sir, for fhe lays the whole Strefs of her Life s Wel 
fare upon it j tis a folid Principle with her, which 
fhe cannot go from, and which fhe thinks her Fan 
cy and Fortune, and all Things in this World ought 
to fubmit to. 

Fa. Welly but you fay it was a long Difcourfe ; I 
don t doubt but you have heard it all, over and 
over: Pray give me as full an Account of it, Child* 
as you can. 
Da. Yes, Sir*. 

* Here Jbe relates the whole Night s Difcourfe be 
tween the Gentleman and her Sifter, as it is in the 
foregoing Dialogue, except only that about flaying 
for him till he was grown religious. 

Fa. Well, 



["53 

fa. Well, I think they are both Fools ; he for 
being fo open, and fhe for being fo nice j it will be 
Jong enough before fhe has fuch another Offer, I 
dare fay. 

Da. I believe that is none of her Affli&lt;5Uon, Sir $ 
fhe s only troubled at her difbbliging you, which 
fhe had no Portability to avoid, without oppreffing 
her Conscience, and making herfelf miferable. 

Fa. I do not fee that s any of her Concern. 

Da. Yes, indeed Sir, it is ; and I am afraid fhe 
grieve herfelf to Death about it. 

Fa. If that had been any Grief to her, fhe would 
not have adted as fhe has done. 

Da. It s a terrible Cafe, Sir, to have fb many 
powerful Arguments prefs againft Conference , I 
wonder fhe has been able to ftand her Ground 
againft them, and I am fure it lies very heavy up 
on her Mind. 

Fa. What do you mean by Arguments prefllng 
upon her Confcience ? 

Da. Why, Sir, to name no more, here is a Gen 
tleman, who by his profeis d Choice of ber, and ex 
traordinary Propofals to ber, has given undoubted 
Teftimony of his loving her very fincerely : /;/ the 
next Place, a fplendid Fortune, giving her a Pro- 
fpect of enjoying all that this World can offer : 
Thirdly, A very agreeable Perlon, and one that has 
by his engaging Conduct, made fbme Way into her 
Affection $ fb that tis eafy to fee, fhe not only has 
a Reipect for him, but really loves him and laft- 
ly, The Difpleafure of her Father, who fhe never 
difbbeyed before, and to difoblige whom is effectu 
ally to ruin herfelf for this World : Are not thefe, 
Sir, prefting Things? 

Fa. And why do they not prevail with her then ? 
and why is fhe fo wilful ? 

I 2 Da. No- 



Da. Nothing but her Confciencej a Senfe of 
her Duty to God 3 and her own future Peace, has 
upheld her Refblution ; he has profefs d himfelf to 
be a Man of no Religion, and fuch a one (he dares 
not marry. 

Fa. I underftand nothing of it, nor do I fee any 
need to pretend Confcience in the Cafe at all $ 
there s nothing of Weight in it. 

Da. I hope, you cannot think, but my Sifter 
would be very glad it had been otherwife. 

Fa. What need fhe trouble herfelf about his Re 
ligion ? 

Da. It is my Bufmefs, Sir, to give you an Ac 
count of the Fad, not to enter into the Argu 
ment ; tis enough that one Daughter has difpleafed 
you already. 

Fa. Well, well, I fee fhe is come Home again 
I have nothing to fay to her ; I don t look upon 
her as any Relation of mine. 

Da. If you don t abate fbmething, Sir, and fhew 
your felf a little tender of her, I believe you will 
fbon have but two Daughters to provide for ; per 
haps not that, for I think it will break all our 
Hearts to fee her. 

All that his eldeft Daughter could fay, or that 
either of his Sifters in the Country had faid, had 
yet no Effect upon him , but he carried it fb re- 
ierv d to his Daughter, that fhe appeared in the 
Family as if me had not belong d to him, and he con 
tinued it fo long, that it began to be very probable 
he would never alter it , which fb griev d the poor 
young Lady, that fhe fell very fick with it, and it 
was fear d me inclined to a Confumption $ and be 
ing very ill one Day, her Sifter, who was her faft 
Friend and only Comforter, defifed fhe would go 
out a little, and take the Air $ fo they refolved to 

g 



, 



[ "7] 

&o to their Aunt s at iKfitpfiead; the Sifter s Defign 
being to perfuade her to ftay two or three Days 
with their Aunt ; in which fhort Journey feveral 
ftrange little Adventures befell them, which will 
gradually introduce themfelves in the following 
Difcourfe, which began between them as they were 
in the Coach going to Hampftead. 

Dear Sifter, fays the eldeft Sifter, what will be 
come of you ? will you give way to this Grief fb 
much, as to let it deftroy you ? 

To. Sif. What can I do. Sifter ? I fupport it as 
well as I can, but it finks my Spirits ; tis too hea 
vy for me 5 I believe it will deftroy me, as you 
fay. 

Eld. Sif. But fhake it off then, Sifter. 

To. Sif. Shake it off! You talk of it as a Thing 
in my Power : No, no, Sifter, Effects rarely ceafe 
till their Caufes are removed. 

Eld. Sif. Nay, if you will talk Philofophy, I am 
lure Philofophy would cure you. 

To. Sif. Ay ; but I am no Philofopher, I hope 5 
pray how would that cure me ? 

Eld. Sif. How ? that I mean by Philofophy is 
Reafon ; tho Women are not Philolbphers, they 
are rational Creatures : I think you might reafon 
your felf out of it. 

To. Sif. I do talk Reafon, when I fay Grief hav 
ing feized upon my Spirits, and the Caufe being 
immoveable, while that remains fo, the Effed: will 
be fb too. 

Eld. Sift. It is not in my Power to remove the 
Caufe ; but yet, I think, if you would hear Rea 
fon, you might remove the Grief, which is the 
Effeft. 

To. Sif. And you think Reafoning would do it ? 
pray what kind of Reafoning is that ? 

I 3 Eld. 



r us 

Eld. Sif. Why to reafon but upon the Folly, the 
Madnefs, the Injuftice, nay, the Sin of immode 
rate Grief 

To. Sif. You begin warmly 3 pray let s hear the 
Folly oi it ? 

. Eld. Sif. Why feveral Things will convince you 
of its being the foolifheft Thing in the World : 
Grief is a fenfelefs, ufelefs Paflion - 3 tis ufelels, 
becaufe tis perfectly incapable of doing any Good, 
and only capable of doing Evil , Grief is indeed 
no Paflion, but a Quality, a Difeafe of the Mind, 
which muft be cur d ; tis an evil Spirit that muft 
be caft out ; befides, it is a fenfelefs Thing ; for 
tis a Means to no End j. it aims at nothing, feeks 
nothing, endeavours nothing, only corrodes the 
Spirits, ftagnates the very Senfes, and ftupifies the 
Soul ; and therefore Grief was anciently repre- 
fented as a Viper, generated in the Liver, and 
preying upon the Vitals of the Man ; and when it 
came within a certain Space of the Heart, it had 
two Ways to go if it afcended, it quitted the hy- 
pochondriack Veflels, and fo pofleffing the Brain, 
ended in Madneis , if it defcended, it pofleflfed the 
Blood, and ended in Death. 

To. Sif. Pray end your Reafoning ; for I do not 
under ftand it j go back to the Point propofed, what 
muft I do ? you fay, fhake it off; 1 ask, what muft 
I do to fhake it off? how can I ihake it off? 

Eld. Sif. Why, divert your Mind; think no 
more of him ; turn your Thoughts to Things that 
are in Being, this is now a Thing over ; you fhould 
only efteem it as a Hiftory of Things dpne in the 
Ages paft. 

To. Sif. You fiirprize me. Sifter. 

Eld. Sif. Surprize you. Child ! in what ? 

K. Sif, 



C "93 

To. Sif. I am both grieved and aftonifhed, that 
you fhould have fuch mean Thoughts of me, as to 
think my Grief is founded upon the parting with 
Mr. : 1 proteft to you, I am fo far from hav 
ing the leaft Concern of that Kind upon me, that 
it is the only comfortable Refle&ion I have in the 
World, and I give God Thanks from the Bottom 
of my Soul, as often as I think of it, that I am 
deliver d from him. 

Eld. Sif. I believe you are fenfible, that it is 
better as it is ; but I know it is a great Struggle 
between Principle and Affe&ion. 

To. Sif. Not at all, Sifter, I am over all that 
it did not hold me half an Hour $ when my Con- 
icience didlate4 to me my real Danger, the future 
Felicity of my Life, the Commands of God, and 
the dying Inftru&ions of my dear Mother, Do 
you think the little Stirrings of an Infant-Affection 
to the Man, was able to ftruggle with fuch an Ar 
my of Convictions ? God forbid ! No, no - y he is 
to me as the moft contemptible Fellow on Earth. 

Eld. Sif. No, no,-Sifter, you never thought him 
a contemptible Fellow, I am fure - y nor is he fb in 
himfelf 

To. Sif. No, as a Gentleman he is not fb ; he is 
a lovely Creature, and the only Man in the World 
I could ever fay I had any Affe&ion for. 

Eld. Sif. I know you lov d him ; nay, and do 
love him ft ill ; your Face betrays you, Sifter ; 
while your Tongue nam d him, your Heart flut 
tered, and your Colour changed , I could fee it 
plain enough. 

To. Sif. How cruel is that now, Sifter ! you 
prompt the Affection to revive, as if you would 
recall the Temptation, and aflift it in a new At 
tack upon me j I allow I loved him, and as a Gen 
tleman fb every Way agreeable, I do fo ft ill , but 

I 4 fhall 



fhall I yoke my felf with one of God s Enemies ! 
embrace one that God abhors ! fpeak no more of 
it I entreat you. 

Eld. Stf. That s carrying it too far $ you cannot 
fay who God abhors. 

To. Sif. I ll put it the other way then, to ftop 
your Mouth : fhall I yoke my felf with a practical 
Atheift ! embrace one that rejects God, love him 
that hates my Saviour ! 

Eld. Stf. Nay, that s too far too j he told you 
he did not hate Religion. 

To. Sif. You cavil, Sifter, you don t argue ; I ll 
give it you in Scripture Words , is he not one of 
thofe who fay to the Almighty , Depart from us, we,. 
defire not the Knowledge of his Ways ? did he not 
openly fay the fame Thing ? is he not only void of 
the Knowledge of Religion, but of any Defire to 
have any Knowledge of it ? 

Eld. Sif. Do not take what I faid ill, Sifter, I 
acknowledge he is indeed fuch a one 3 but ftill you. 
love him, Sifter. 

To. Sif. No, Sifter, as fuch I abhor him ; the 
Thoughts of having been but in Danger of him, 
makes my Blood run chill in my Veins ; fhall I 
marry a Profligate ! a Man of no Religion ! nay, 
that has the Impudence to own it ! No, Sifter, I 
rejoyce that I am delivered from him, and I never 
defire to fee him more as long as I live. 

Eld. Sif. And are you really got as far above it 
as you lay you are ? 

To. Sif. Dear Sifter, have not you and I often 
lamented the Lofi of a religious Family, even in 
our own Father ? the Want of religious Converfa- 
tion, the Want of a Father to teach, inftrudt, in 
form and explain religious Things to us? Have we 
not feen the dreadful Life our Aunt, my Father s 
^ liv d for want of a religious Husband, and 

the 



C * 

the heavenly Life my Aunt here, our Mother s 
Sifter lives, that has a pious, fober, religious HuC- 
band and Family : and can you think I would ever 
be a Wife to fuch another as Sir James ! Befides, 
could I bear to be tied to a Man that could not 
pray to God for me, and would not pray to God 
with me ? God forbid ! The greateft Eftate and the 
ifineft Man in the World fhould never incline me 
to fuch a Thought ! 1 thank God my Soul abhors 
It $ and tis the Joy of my Heart, that the Snare 
is broken. 

Eld. Sift. Why, what is it then that opprefles 
your Mind thus ? 

To. Sift. O Sifter ! you cannot ask me fuch a 
Queftion. 

Juft as fhe had faid thofe Words, came a Gentle 
man on Horfeback, and gallop d by the Coach Side, 
and looking into the Coach, pull d off his Hat to 
her ^ and having paid his Compliment, he rode 
on : The very Moment he look d in, the eldeft 
Sifter had dropp d her Fan in the Chariot, and was 
ftooping down to reach it, and fb did not fee him ; 
but when fhe got up, looking at her Sifter, (he 
found her look very pale. 



Eld. Sift. What s the Matter, Sifter, 
leing much frighted ) an t you well ? 

To. Sift. No, faysjbe - y lend me your * Bottle ? 

Eld. Sift. What was the Matter, Sifter, was you 
frighted ? 

To. Sift. I was a little diforder d. 

* She gives her a little Bottle to fmett to, and Jhe 
legan to come to herfelf. 

Eld. 



C i 

Eld. Sif. What was it ? Did thofe Men that rid 
by fay any thing to affront you ? 

To. Sif. One of them did : Did you not lee 
them * 

Eld. Sif. No I heard fbme body ride by, but 
my Head was down, looking for my Fan : Why, 
who was it ? twas not Mr. &gt; was it ? 

To. Sif. O ! yes it was ; let us go back. Sifter^ 
I entreat you ; I am very ill. 

Eld. Sif. Why we have a long Way back, and 
we are almoft at Hampflead now $ we had better go 
to my Aunt s ; we. fhall be there preiently. 

To. Sif. Well, 10t us then, bid him drive apace, 

Eld. Sif. Alas ! There he is * a little before us. 

To. Sif. If he comes again to the Coach-fide, 
and offers to {peak, I beg of you, Sifter, do you 
anfwer him, for I will not {peak one Word to him. 

Eld. Sif. He is gone now a great way off. 

They fbon came to their Aunt s Houfe, and 
went in, the Coach {landing at the Door : After 
they had been there a Quarter of an Hour, the 
Gentleman, who knew well enough where they 
were, came to the Houfe, and fent in their Foot 
man to tell the eldeft Sifter he was there, and de- 
fired the Favour to {peak two or three Words with 
her. 

The Servants led him into a Parlour, and the 
young Lady came down to him in a few Minutes j 
he told her, that before he entred into any Di 
courfe, he muft allure her of two Things ; Firft, 

* She calls to the Coachman to drive apace^ and look 
ing out of the Coach) Jhe faw the Gentleman^ riding 
fofily with only two Footmen^ a little Way off of 
the Coach. 

She looks out of the Coach a^aln. 

That 



That his overtaking them upon the Road was 
purely accidental, and without the leaft Defign, 
and me might eafily be fatisfy d by his Servants and 
Baggage - 9 for he was juft fetting out on a Journey 
of above a hundred Miles, and fhould not return 
under three Weeks at leaft : And, Secondly, That he 
had no Defign in calling in there, to move any thing 
to her Sifter concerning the old Affair, but only to 
have two or three Words with her relating to him- 
felf: You know, Sifter, fays he, for I muftftill give 
you that Name of Refpeff, upon what Terms your 
Sifter and I parted ; and as I promifed her 1 would 
wait on her again, and did not, I have been very 
uneafy left (he might think I fhewed her fbme Dii- 
refpect, and that I took ill what fhe faid to me ; and 
truly for fome time fo I did : She anfwered coldly, 
That fhe believed her Sifter had not at all been diC- 
fatisfy d at his not coming again. No, Madam, fays 
he, / believe that, by the manner of the Difmifsjhe 
had given me ; but however I would not be rude to her, 
whatever foe thought fit to fay to me : She returned, 
and with a little more Concern than before, that fhe 
hop d, however, her Sifter had thought fit not to 
go on with what was propofed, yet that fhe had not 
been rude to him. No, Madam, fays he, not rude. 
Sir, fays fhe, as you had offered nothing to my Sifter, 
but what was like your felf, very honourable, lam fur e 
Jhe does not fo ill underjiand her [elf as to offer any 
thing unbecoming to you. He return d, with a very 
obliging way of Speaking, that her Sifter underftood 
herfelf perfectly well, and I affure you, fays he, fhe 
underftood my Character better than I did my felf. / 
do not rightly take your Meaning, Sir, faid fhe, my Sifter 
could make no Objection to your Charafler. Madam, 
faid he, you know very well upon what Foundation 
your Sifter alter d her Mind, and abfolutely refufed 
any farther Treaty with me, viz. That I was a 

prophane. 



r 

profane, wicked, irreligious Creature : The Fact: 
was true, I own J d it to her, that I neither had any 
Knowledge of Religion, or defired any, for which 
I was a very great Brute. 

I think you were very fincere, Sir, fays fhe. 

Madam, faid he, I do not fay, / was a Brute 
for owning it, but I was a Brute for living in that 
horrid Manner , and yet thinking that any fober Wo 
man could entertain a thought of having me. 

1 am very ibrry, faid the Lady, it happen d fb. 
I am very glad, Madam, that fhe treated me fb, 

reply d he, and fhall love her ten thoufand times 
better for it, if that be poffible, than ever I did 
before. 

Says (he to him again, Sir, you are pleafed to bar 
ter a little. 

No, Sifter, fays he, I don t banter ; and my 
flopping to fpeak with you was for this Reafbn - y I 
do not ask to fpeak with your Sifter, but I beg you 
will tell her from me very ferioufly, that fhe has 
been a better Iriftru&or to me than my Father, or 
Mother, or all the Tutors and Friends I had in my 
Life y fhe has convinc d me, that I was a Monfter, 
a fcandalous Fellow, that ought to have been 
afham d to pretend to a Woman that had the leaft 
Senfe of her Education, or of Him that made her : 
I have Reafon to give Thanks to God every Day I 
live, that ever I faw her Face, and that I had that 
Repulie from her : Tell her I recommend it to her, 
to preferve that noble heavenly Refblution, which 
fhe faid fhe had taken up, viz. Never to marry any 
but a religious Man: fhe is undone if fhe breaks it ; 
and tho I am never able to deferve her, yet I fhall 
always think of her as the Mother of all that is or 
ever will be good in me, and value the very Mo- 
mory of her accordingly ! He waited no Anfwer, 
but with all poffible Civility took his Leave, and 

his 



C M 

his Horfes being at the Door, took Horfe and went 
away. She waited on him to the Door, and as he 
was paying his Refpe&s to her, fitting on his Horfe, 
he faid to her. Dear Madam, I hope you w ll give 
your Sifter a particular Account of what I have 
laid, to you : She anlwer d, me would not fail to 
do it with all the Exa&nefs poflible. 

As foon as he was gone, me ran up to her Sifter, 
tut before fhe could fpeak to her, her youngeft 
Sifter cry d out to her, Sifter, before you fpeak, do 
not ask me to go down, for I will not fee him. 

Eld. Sif. Don t be fo hafty, he did not defire to 
lee you $ he s gone. 

To. Sif. Is he gone*? 

Eld. Sif. Truly, Sifter, I don t think tis fit you 
Ihould fee him - I fee by you, if he was to talk 
one Hour with you, you d lofe all your Refolu- 
tion. 

2??. Sif. Perhaps that s the Reafon why I refblve 
not to fee him , won t you allow me to know my 
own Weakness ? is it not enough that I have con- 
quer d my felf once ? 

Eld. Sif. Yes, I allow it ; and that you adt a 
very prudent Part ; for I know you ftruggle with 
your own Affections - 3 I do not defire to prefs you, 
and never did. 

To. Sift. I can better keep my Refolution of not 
feeing him^ than perhaps I might my Refolution of 
not marrying him, if I faw him 5 tho I know I ana 
ruin d if I have him. 

* She obfervedj for all floe was fo warm at fa ft , that 
when Jhe faid, he did not defire to fee her, Jhe 
changd her Countenance a little., and more, when 
Jhe faid he was gone, 

Eld. 
I 



Eld. Sif. As he is now, I don t know whether 
your would or no 5 there s a ftrange Alteration in 
him. 

To. Sif. What do you mean by an Alteration ? 

Eld. Sif. Why, he is quite another Man ; he 
talks like a Man quite chang d j you would have 
been lurpriz d at it. 

To. Sif. O ! has he a Mind to put that Trick up 
on me ? No, no, it s too late now. 

Eld. Sif. What Trick do you mean ? 

To. Sif. O ! he told me he could play the Hy 
pocrite moft nicely, and was fure he could deceive 
me ; but it won t do I m prepar d for that. 

Eld. Sif. I am fore he was no Hypocrite before^ 
he was too plain before ; and I do not fee why 
you fhould fay he is a Hypocrite now. 

To. Sif. Becaufe he told me he would be fb $ he 
acknowledged he had fhewn more Honefty than 
Difcretion before, and was fbrry for it and that 
if he was to begin again, he would take juft the 
contrary Courfe. 

Eld. Sif. Well, I dare fay, he is no Hypocrite 
now, any more than he was before. 

To. Sif. I won t truft him. 

Eld. Sif. But you may give me Leave to tell the 
Subftance of his Difcourfe. 

To. Sif. Dear Sifter, do not be drawn in to lay 
Snares for me ; you would not be willing to have 
me deceived, why fhould you affift in it ? I deiire 
to hear nothing of it. 

Eld. Sif. That s very difobligmg, Sifter, to me j 
would I affift any Man to deceive you, that have 
fb much applauded your Refolution not to be de* 
ceived ? 

To. Sif. Nay, and affifted me too in withftand- 
ing the Importunities of my own Affections, or 

elfe 



[ "73 

elfe I believe I had not been able to have fupported 
my Senfe of Duty ; and therefore I wonder you 
fhould forfake me now. 

Aunt. Child, do not prefs your Sifter to hear any 
thing j I muft confefs her Cafe is wonderful nice j 
fhe loves the Gentleman, fhe does not ftick to 
acknowledge it ; fhe has great Scruples on her 
Thoughts about her Duty to her Father, and they 
all fway on the fame Side ; her Father frights her 
with violent Words, and hard Ufage, and Threat- 
nings of turning her out of Doors ; againft all this 
fhe Hands fmgle in Obedience to her Confidence ; 
I think we fhould aflift her. 

Eld. Sif. Dear Madam, if my Sifter was not 
here, I would fay a great deal more j I think me 
has acted the nobleft Part in its kind, that any 
young Body ever did : I wifh I may be able to pre- 
ferve fuch a Refblution, if ever it fhould be my 
Cafe ; and I am fure I fhould be far from difcou- 
raging her ; but what I was going to tell her, was 
nothing to difcourage her ; I wifh fhe would let 
me tell it you firft. 

To. Sif. With all my Heart, tell it my Aunt $ 
I ll * withdraw. 

Aunt. Well, Niece, I do think of the two it 
may be ftill better not to tell it your Sifter ; let us 
lay it up in our Hearts ; if it be true, and he is a 
reformed Man, we fhall perhaps hear more of him ; 
if not, to perfuade her he is really chang d, is but 
to make her love him more, without knowing whe 
ther he ever thinks any more of her or no, and 
that can be no Service to her. 

* She goes out of tie Room, and the eldeft Sifter tells 
her Aunt what the Gentleman had f aid. 

Eld, 
t 



[1*8] 

Eld. Sif. I ftibmit, Madam, to your Directions, 
but then I break my Promife. 

To. Sif. You may find a Time for that too. 

The Difcourfe broke off here, and her Aunt 
finding the young Lady very ill and difturb d, de- 
fired her Sifter to leave her there for a few Days, 
to tell her Father, how ill me was, and that fhe 
thought the Country might divert her a little, but 
that if he defired her to come Home, (he would 
return whenever he pleafed : Her eldeft Sifter did 
fb, but all the Anfwer me got was, She might ft ay 
there for ever, if flje would^ he never defired to be 
troubled with her any more. 

The End of the Third Dialogue. 




D I A- 




D I A L O G U E IV. 

H E former Dialogue having put an End 
to the Courtfhip between the Gentleman 
and his Miftrels for the prefent, and 
there being fome Interval of Time be 
tween thofe Things and the remaining Part of the 
Story, that Interval is filled up with another little 
Affair in the fame Family, of ft ill a nicer Nature 
than the other, tho not carry d fb far. 

The Father had frequently difcourfed thefe 
Things with his eldeft Daughter in the Cafe of her 
Sifter, as is to be feen in the laft Dialogue, and 
found by her Difcourie that Ihe was pretty mudi 
of her Sifter s Opinion in the Matter of chooflng a 
Husband : But having a Gentleman in his Thoughts 
for her, who had the Character of a very fbber^ 
religious Perfon, he made no Queftion but he 
mould difpofe this Daughter both to her Satisfa&ion 
and his own. 

It was with a View to this Defign that he had 
jefted with her in one of thefe laft Difcourfes, that 
lie had a religious Husband in ftore for her, and 
that he hop d he Ihould give her no Occafion to 
play the Fool as her Sifter had done. 
In the Confequence of this he took-.Occafion, to 
tell her one Evening after Supper, that what he 
had fpoken in a way of jeft to her at fuch a Time^ 
was really no Jeft in his own Thoughts j that he 
had been fpoken to by a certain Gentleman, a con- 

K fiderabie 



fiderable Merchant in the City, whofe eldeft Son 
had an Inclination to pay his Refpedh to her and 
/ affure you, my Dear, lays her Father, Joe has tie 
Character of a very fober, religious Gentleman, and 
I am fure his Father and Mother are very good Peo 
ple 5 indeed the whole Family are noted for a religi 
ous Family, and I know no Family in the whole 
City that have a better Chara&er. 

She made him no Anfwer at all, till he began with 
her again. Why are you fo filent, Child, laid her Fa 
ther ? Have you nothing to fay ? Methinks when I 
look back upon the Diforder which the Obftinaey 
of your Sifter has put us all in, I would be glad to 
have every Difficulty removed before-hand with you, 
and therefore I fpeak early, that if you have any 
Objections, I may hear them, and not be driven 
afterwards to ask People Pardon, for ill Ufage which 
I have had no hand in ; and I would have you ufe 
your Freedom now, that I may take nothing ill 
from you afterwards : And thus he prefs d her to 
Ipeak. 

Daughter. I am in no hafte, Sir, to marry ; the 
Times terrify me $ the Education, the Manner, 
the Conduft of Gentlemen is now fb univerfally 
loofe, that I think for a young Woman to marry, 
is like a Horfe rufhing into the Battle ; I have no 
Courage fb much as to think of it. 

Father. But there are a great many fober, civi- 
liz d young Gentlemen in the World ; tis hard to 
reproach them all, becaufe many of them are 
wicked. 

Da. ir, it is thofe civiliz d People which I fpeak 
of ; for even thofe who now pafs for fober, are not 
like what it was formerly , when you look narrow 
ly among them, as there are in the Grols ten Rakes 
to one fober Man, fo among the fober Men that 

are 



are called civilized Men, and whofe Morals will 
bear any Character, there are ten Atheifts to one 
religious Man ; and, which is worfe than all the 
reft) if a Woman finds a religious Man, it is three 
to one again, whether he agrees with her in Princi 
ples ; and fo fhe is in Danger of being undone even 
in the belt. 

Fa. I never heard the like ! why what are my 
Daughters made of ! what, is nothing good enough 
in the World for you ! if you go all upon fuch 
Niceties, I muft never think any more of marry 
ing any of you. 

Da. You had rather, Sir, not think of it, I dare 
fay, than think of feeing us miferable. 

Fa. Why there is not a Man on Earth can pleafe 
you, as you have ftated it. 

Da. Providence will either fettle me as I would 
be fettled, Sir, or will, I hope, diipofe you to be 
as well fatisfied with my prefent Condition, as I am. 

Fa. Why it feems you are gone mad farther than 
your" diftraded Sifter. 

Da. I hope, Sir, I am in my Senfes, and (hall 
be kept fo 

Fa. Why, it feems, a religious Husband won t 
pleafe you : what is it you would have ? 

Da. I defire, Sir, to live as I am, at Jeaft, till 
fomething offers, which is fit for me to accept 

Fa. What do you call fit, Child? what can be 
fit in your way of talking ? 

Fa. When my Judgment and Confcience are 
fatisfied, Sir, I beliex^e my Fancy will not be very 
troublefome to you : if I muft marry, Sir, I would 
have it be fo, as I may exped God s Bleffing and 
my Father s. 

Fa. I tell you, nothing in the Nation will iatisfy 
your Judgment and Confcience, as you call it, if 
the Notion you have of Things be true. 

K 2 IX*. Then 



C P 

Da. Then I am very well fatisfied to remain as 
I am. 

Fa. That s ungrateful to your Father s Care for 
you. 

Da. I am fure, Sir, I would not be ungrateful 
nor undutiful to you , but I know not what you 
would have me do. 

Fa.,, I would have you fee this Gentleman that I 
have propofed to you. 

Da+ I ihall fubmit to any thing you command 
me, Sir, that is not a Breach of my Duty to God j 
I hope you will defire nothing of me that I cannot 
do with a quiet Mind. 

Pa. Well, you may fee him , I hope that can be 
no Harm. 

Da. If you will pleafe to let me know then, 
how far you allow me to be in my own Difpofe, 
and how far not ; and whether I have the Liberty 
torefufe him if , I do not like him. 

Fa.. Ye^, if jfpu will refolve to ufe your Judg 
ment, and not refufe him before you fee him, but 
give good Reafons for what you do. 

Da. I think, Sir, I ought to have a negative Voice, 
without being lobliged to difpute my Reafons with 
my Father, for that s juft bringing me into the 
lame Conditioa,,. with my Sifter , her Reafons are 
goocf to her, ,.feujt not to you. Sir , and fb you take 
her ; ConlciencVpf t)uty to God to be a Conteippt 
of her Duty to you 3 I would not be run into the 
lame. Snare* , . , 

--Ff. You arer.mighty pofitive in your demanding 
a -Negative Votes, a^inft.your Father. 
; Da. But I t^ ; d : Better iknow my Cafe beforehand, 
that I may not imiK upon more than is my Right, 
and offend yo^ Sir, in feeming,to encroach upon 
your Government. 

*- -V _. ( f 1 t&gt; / T-A &gt; U J&lt; / 

fa. Let mp^vy.thqn v}ga| your Demand is? 

:r.v.a 



! E 3? 

Da. Sir, I think when you propofe marrying to 
me, the Difcourfe of Portion and Settlement is in 
your Province, and I have nothing to do with it ; 
but I think I ought to be at Liberty to like or diflike, 
receive or refufe the Perfbn, and that abfblutely. 

Fa. What, without fhewing any Reafbn ? 

Da. NO- I ought, without doubt, to tell my 
Father my Objections, and to give a due Force to 
all the Arguments my Father may ufe to fatisfie my 
Doubts, but I ought not to be forc d to like^ even 
tho 5 1 could not maintain my Reafbns. 

Fa. And you capitulate with me for this Liberty 
before you fee this Gentleman, do you ? 

Da. No, Sir, I do not capitulate with you, but 
I hope you will of your own accord grant me the 
Liberty which the Nature of the Thing calls for ; 
that if I muft fee the Gentleman, I may have the 
Freedom to take or refufe, if not, there is no need 
to fee him $ I may be given by a Contract, and 
marry d by Proxy, as the great People ( Fools I 
Ihould fay) do as well as by Treaty. 

Fa. Well, well, lan t a going to give you, nor 
to fell you - y if you won t have him, you may let 
him alone. 

Da. That s all I defire, Sir; with this Addition 
only, &lt;viz. that my Father will not be difp leafed 
or difobliged, whether I take or leave. 

Fa. I can t promife you that, indeed, Daughter. 

Da. Then I beg of you, Sir, I may never fee 
him at all. 

Fa. Very well-, then itjbatllefo ; you fhall never 
fee him at all : I find you are all alike ; you may 
look out for your felves, if you will *, but it may 

* He rifes tip in a PaJJion, and goes away, but comes 
in again prefently. 

K 3 be 



[ M4] 

be, I mayn t like your choofing any more than you 
will. like mine. 

[Her Father returns. 

Fa. I wonder what it is you would all have me 
do in fuch a Cafe as this ? here is a Match propos d 
to your Sifter, how (he has treated me you know : 
Now I have a Propofal to you, where the grand 
Objection is removed ^ what can you defire of a 
Father ? 

Da. Sir, I defire only, that if you think fit to 
difcourfe fuch Things as thefe with us, we might be 
able to fpeak for ourf elves without difcompofing you j 
we have not a Mother to ftand between, and make 
our Objections to, and to hear our Reafons. 

Fa. Well, that s true*, it s my Lofs as well as 
yours : Come, lerme hear, however, if you have 
any Obje&ion againft the Perfon I propofe now, 
tell it me ; I ll endeavour not to be warm. 

Da. I can have no Obje&ion to a Man I never 
faw or heard of, but I think we fhould have a Li 
berty to refufe, Sir, when we come to difcourfe 
of fuch a Thing with the Perfon ; and that is all I 
ask, and that we may not difbblige you if we ufe 
that Liberty ^ and without that Liberty, I defire 
you will be pleafed never to make any Propofal at 
all to me, and if ever I make one myfelf, I will be 
content to be. denied. 

Fa. You are very pofitive. 

Da. It feems to be fo reafonable, Sir, that I can 
not think any Children can ask lefs, or any Father 
think it is too hard $ it is the Children that are to 
feel the Confequences of the Miftake, if there be 
any. 

* She weeps, and that MOWS him* efpecially fpeak- 
ing of their Mother. 

JkWdl, 






[ 353 

Fa. Well, that s -true ; come then if your will 
talk with this Gentleman, you mall have your Li 
berty to take him or leave him , have you any Ob 
jection to make before-hand ? if you have, let me 
know it j that will prevent all Occafions of Diiguft. 

Da. Will you pleafe to hear me with Patience, 
Sir ? 

Fa. Yes, I will if I can. 

Da. You have heard fb much faid by me, Sir, 
in my Sifter s Behalf, that you muft necelfarily be 
lieve I am of the fame Opinion - 9 that is to fay ^ That 
I would not marry a Man that made no Profeflion 
of Religion, upon any Account whatfoever, were 
his Eftate, his Perfon, his Sobriety, his Qualifica 
tions, ever fo inviting ; I need not give Reafons 
for this, Sir, what I have faid, what my Sifter and 
my Aunts have faid on that Account is enough ; but 
it is my Misfortune, Sir, to have another Scruple 
beyond all that, and which the Cafe of my Sifter 
gave no Occafion to mention. 

Fa. Very well j then you intend to be more 
troublefbme than your Sifter, I find. 

Da. I hope not, Sir, becaufe I give my Scruples 
in beforehand ; and if any thing offers to you 
abroad, that will fhock the Foundation I lay down, 
I hope you will not hearken to it on my Account, 
and then you will have no Occafion to fay I am 
troublefbme. 

Fa. Well, let us hear it however. 

Da. Why, Sir, as I will never marry any Man 
who does not make fbme Profeflion of Religion, 
however rich or agreeable, handfome or fbber he 
is j fb, however feripus or religious he is, I will ne 
ver marry any Man, ,whofe Principles, Opinion., 
and Way of Worfhip fhall not agree with my own* 

Fa. And is that your Refolution ? 

K 4. Da. I 



1 

Da. I hope it is well grounded. Sir, and that 
you will not difapprove my Reafbns for it, when 
you pleafe to hear them calmly, and to bear with 
my mean Way of arguing them. 

Fa. I think I was much in the right to fay you 
would be more troublefbme than your Sifter $ how 
ever, you do your Sifter fome Kindnefs in it, for 
this extravagant Humour makes her s look a thou- 
fand times more reafbnable than it did before. 

Da. That s what I forefaw. Sir ; viz. that I fhall 
remove your Difpleafure from my Sifter, and bring 
it down upon my felf^ but I cannot help it. 

Fa. Well, I fhall relieve my felf againft all your 
Humours ; Fll talk no more of fettling any of you 
till your Curiofity is abated. 

Tho her Father feemed to give it over thus in 
Difcourfe with his Daughter, yet he had gone far 
ther with the Gentleman that made the Fropoial, 
than he had told her, and had invited the Father 
and Mother to Dinner the next Day, with an In 
tent that they fhould fee and be acquainted with 
his Daughters, fuppofing, at the fame time, that 
they would bring the young Gentleman with them. 

They came to Dinner accordingly ; but as the Fa 
ther knew well enough, that the Education of their 
Son was a differing Way from that of his Daughters, 
and that fhe had declared herfelf fb pofitively in 
that part, he had defired them privately, not to 
bring their Son to Dinner : When they were come, 
and before his Daughter was call d in, the Father 
told them how the Cafe flood between him and 
his eldeft Daughter, and that he faw no Remedy 
but this, that as he had not told her any thing of 
the Defign of this Invitation, or that they were 
the Family he had defigned her a Husband out of^ 
fo if they thought fit to turn their Eyes to his fe- 

cond 



cond Daughter, he was in hopes me would have 
more Wit than to run into the ridiculous Scruples 
of the eldeft : They prefently agreed, that it was 
not at all realbnable to force the Inclination of the 
young Lady that they faw no room to bring the 
Opinions in Religion together, in their Children, 
their Opinions at that Time differing extremely, 
and their Son being as pofitive, they believed, as 
his Daughter j fo they faid, with all their Hearts, 
if their Son could fancy the fecond Daughter as 
well, it fhould be the fame thing to them : How 
ever, the Mother of the young Gentleman ask d 
him if he would give her Leave to enter into Dif- 
courfe with his Daughter upon the Subject of her 
Scruples ; he told her, with all his Heart, for he 
would be glad to have her change her Mind ; be- 
caufe, as on the one hand he fhould be very well 
fatisfy d to bring them together, fo he really thought 
her Notions were empty and fimple, and fhould be 
glad fhe was made wifer but then, Madam, fays 
be, you muft not difcover the real Defign, for if 
you do, fhe will be backward to fpeak freely 3 fhe 
agreed to that, andfo this private Difcourfe ended, 
and his Daughters being introduced, and the ufual 
Ceremonies pafs d, they went to Dinner, the young 
Ladies knowing nothing of the Defign of their 
being invited. 

The Father and Mother were charm d at the 
Condudt of the young Woman ; her Perfbn and 
Manner, the Modefty of her Behaviour, and 
above all, the Politenefs and Pertinence of herDiC- 
courfe 3 and fomething happening to be faid about 
marrying, the Father falls to rallying his Daughters 
upon their Nicety in that Point ; that nothing would 
fervethem but religious Men: There s my Daughter 

fays he, (pointing to his youngeft) I think 

nothing will do for her but a Parfon 3 fhe refufed a 

Gentle- 



r 

Gentleman of 2000 /. a Year t other Day, becaufe 
he was not religious enough for her. 

No, Madam, fays his Daughter, my Father 
means, becaufe he had no Religion at all-, hardly 
fo much as a Coach-horfe ; for a Coach-horfe often 
knows the Way to the Church-door. 

That alters the Cafe quite, faid Madam : Why, 
Sir, fays fhe, you would not have married your 
Daughter to a Brute ! A Man without Religion is 
a worfe Brute than a Horfe ! for the Horfe obeys 
the Di&ates of Nature, but an Atheift adts againfl 
Reafon, Nature, and common Senfe : I would not 
marry a Child of mine to a Man of no Religion, 
if he had ten thoufand Pounds a year. 

Well, fays he, there s my Daughter (point 
ing to his eldeft) fhe goes farther ; fhe is not fatis- 
fy d with a religious Husband, but fhe muft have 
ojne of her own Opinion in Religion, that goes to 
Church where fhe goes to Church, and worfhips 
juft as fhe worfhips ; I don t think fhe will ever be 
pleafed while fhe lives. 

Madam, fays the eldeft, I expedtcd my Father 
would be upon my Bones next : My Father talks 
of my Opinion, as if I was fomething that no bo 
dy elfe is j as if I was one of the new Prophets, or 
of fome ftrange flngular Opinion, fomething mon- 
ftrous in Religion $ all I fay is, that as I profefs no 
thing but what / think is right, and what thoufands 
agree with me in : if ever I do marry, as I fuppofe 
1 never Jhall) why fhould I not choofe to have my 
Husband and I of the fame Opinion, that we may 
ferve God together ? 

Madam, fays the old Lady, your Father does 
but jeft with you ; he can never oppofe fo reafbn- 
able a thing as that 5 I muft confeis, I think it is 
much to be defired - 9 I will not fay, but there is a 

Poffibility 



[ 139 1 

Poflibility of doing well without it ; it may not be 
3 Sin - 9 but I own, it is better if it can be fb. 

I am fure twould be a Sin in me, fays the 
ttr, becaufe it would be againft my Confidence. 

Nay, Madam, fays the other , that s true ; and you 
are very much in the right to infift upon it, if it 
be fb 3 and no doubt your Father will be far from 
offering any thing that may feem to be a Violence 
upon your Confcience. 

I offer Violence, Madam ! fays the Father, nay, 
they are above that , they take upon them to fay, 
I will, and I won t, to their Father ; I allure you 
they are paft my offering Violence to them. 

In nothing. Madam, but this crabbed Bufmefs 
of marrying, fays the Daughter, and there indeed 
we do take fome Liberty with my Father. 

Well, Sir, fays the old Lady, you muft allow Li 
berty there ; Marriage is a Cafe for Life, and mult 
be well confider d j and the young Ladies are to 
bear it, fall it how it will, you know, for better or 
worfe , they had need be allow d fbme Liberty there. 

Befides, Madam, fays the youngeft, all the Li 
berty we take is in Negatives only &gt; we don t offer 
to take any body that my Father don t like, only 
we don t care to take fuch as we don t like our 
felves. 

The. old Gentleman then put in 5 Upon my Word, 
Sir, fays he, I think your Daughters are in the right , 
for certainly, tho we may refufe to let them marry 
where they may choofe, yet I can t think we fhould 
deny them the Liberty to refufe what we may offer, 
or elfe we may as well give them in Marriage, as 
was done in old Days, and never let them fee one 
another. 

The eldeft Sifter turn d her Head towards her 
Father at this, but faid nothing. 

I under- 



C 140] 

I underftand you, Betty, fays her Father ; but 
flie faid nothing ftill ; and the old Lady, finding 
the Difcourfe pinch d a little hard, begun fbme 
other Talk, and foon after,, the Men withdrawing, 
left the Ladies together. 

When the Men were gone ; Hark ye, fays the 
old Gentlewoman, I was willing to break off the 
Difcourfe juft now, becaufe I was afraid it was 
offeniive to your Father j but pray let me talk a 
little more to you, Madam - 1 fully approve the 
Refblution of your youngeft Sifter, but methinks 
yours is a little uncharitable, fpeaking to the eldeft* 

Eld. Sift. I was very much obliged to you Ma 
dam, for breaking off the Difcourfe., for my Father 
is paffionate, and is fbmetimes fb out of Temper 
with us upon thefe Points, that we are greatly 
grieved at it, and particularly that he will not give 
us Leave to fpeak. 

To. Sift. I am fure it has almoft broke my Heart. 

Old Lady. I am very forry for it , for indeed I 
think yours is nothing but what every Woman that 
is a Chriftian ought to think herfelf obliged to : 
what dreadful Doings muft there be,- when a reli 
gious Woman marries a Wretch that is a Defpifer 
of God ? a Chriftian to be link d to an Infidel ! 
one that ferves God to be joyn d to one of God s 
Enemies ! and then to love fuch a Man too ! The 
very Thought is enough to fill one with Confufion ! 
Take it which way you will, it is equally difrnal. 
F/&gt;/,To be marry d to him, and not love him, that s 
a Hell upon Earth ! and to love him ! one that we 
muft reflect on as a Limb of the Devil ! a Son of 
Perdition ! to embrace one that God abhors ! to 
have the Affections bound to one that God hates ! 
what Contradictions are thefe ! what Horror muft 
fill the Soul while they live ! and what dreadful 

Thoughts 



! 



[ 4 ] 

Thoughts muft crowd into one s Mind, if fuch a 
Man fhould come to die before us ! Dear young 
Lady, fays fhe, you are happy that you could de 
fend your felf againft fuch a Propofal. 

Eld. Sift. But, Madam, your Charge upon me is 
a little hard : I think the Arguments are as ftrong 
almoft in my part as my Sifter s, tho* they are of 
another Nature. 

Old La. No, I can t fay fb, Madam : it is true, 
there is fbmething to be faid in your Cafe, but no 
thing fb eflential as in the other ; and, as I faid, 
methinks it looks as if you wanted Charity : I hope, 
Chilc^ you do not think all Opinions but your own 
are fatal to be profefs d. 

Eld. Sift. No, Madam, not at all $ I hope there 
are good People of all Perfuafions ; but if I did 
not think my own beft, how could I anfwer the 
cleaving to it my felf? 

Old La. So far you are right. 

Eld. Sift. Then, Madam, tho in Charity I ought 
to allow others to be good Chriftians, and that I 
fhould, and do keep up a friendly Correfpondence 
with many who diffent from my Judgment in reli 
gious Matters, yet there is a great deal of Diffe 
rence between Charity to them, and Union with 
them. 

Old Lfo You have ftudied the Point thoroughly I 
perceive , I underftand you perfectly 3 pray go on. 

Eld. Sift. Madam, in Difcourfe with my Father, 
I could never ufe my Freedom, or obtain leave to 
propoie my Scruples, with the Reafbns of them 5 
but I hope you will allow me Liberty. 

Old La. With all my Heart, Madam, for I am 
glad to enter into fo curious a Debate with you. 

Eld. Sift. Religion, Madam, without Doors is 

one thing^ Religion within Doors is another : In the 

Town among my Acquaintance, and in the Neigh- 

1 bourhood. 



t 4* 

bourhood, a due Charity to every one is what t 
think the Chriftian Principle calls for, and I converfe 
freely with good People of every Opinion, extend 
ing Charity to all / ;; lowlinefs of Mind ^ efteeming e&lt;ve~ 
ry one letter than my felf: But within doors the Cafe 
alters , Family Religion is a fbciable Thing, and God 
fhould be worfhip d there with one Heart, and with 
one Voice ; there can be no Separation there, with 
out a dreadful Breach both of Charity and Duty. 

Old La. You ftart a new Thing to me indeed, 
and it is fbmewhat furprizing. 

Eld. Sift. It may be true, Madam, that there 
may be divers Opinions in a Nation, without Breach 
of Charity ; but I believe it is impoffible it fhould 
be fb in a Family, without Breach of AfFe&ion : 
what Union, what Onenefs of Defires, what per 
fect Agreement (without which a Man and Wife 
can never be laid to difcharge the Duty of their 
Relation) can there be, where there is a Diverfity 
of Worfhip, a Clafhing of Opinions, and an Oppo- 
fition of Principles ? 

Old La. But, Child, you carry it too high , if they 
differ in Principles indeed, there is Ibmething to be 
{aid 5 but we are talking of a Difference in Opinion 
only, where the Fundamentals may be the fame. 

Eld. Sift. Madam, I recall the Word Principles 
then, and joyn with you to confine it to Opinion 
only y but tis the fame thing in its Proportion; 
the Union can never be perfect, while the differing 
Sentiments of things leave room for Difputes be 
tween them : For Example, Madam the differ 
ing Forms of Worfhip j one will pray by a Book 
only, the other without a Book wholly j this is as 
light a Difference as can be fpoken of: But how 
fhall God be worfliip d with the united Voice and 
Affections of the whole Family even in this Cafe ? 
what Helps will two fuch . Relations be to one 
t another, 



C 4J 3 

another, in praying to God either by themfelves 
or with their Families ? 

Old La. Upon my Word you fenfibly affect me 
now with it. 

Eld. Sift. It is not enough. Madam, that they 
being iincerely religious apart, (hall worfhip God in 
their own feparate Way, tho 3 better ib than not at 
all 5 but the Zeal, the AfFedion, the uniting their 
Hearts in their Worfhip, their praying with and for 
one another ^ this, alas ! is all loft: Then fay, it be 
in the publick Worfhip, there they make a woful 
Separation ; God, that has made them one, is ferv d 
by them as two ; God has joyned them together ; 
and they part afunder in their ferving him God 
has made them one, and yet they cannot worfhip 
him as one ; how does this confift, Madam &gt; 

Old La. I fee you are full of it. 

Eld. Sift. In their publick Worfhip, Sacraments, 
$3c. neither one Heart or one Voice goes with 
their Worfhip : Tho they communicate in the fame 
Ordinance, they fet up two Altars - y one worfhips 
here, and one there : and tho their Faces are both 
fet Heaven-wards, perhaps they turn back to back 
as foon as they go out of their Doors to the pub- 
lick Worfhip of God. 

Old La. You are very clear in it, indeed, Madam. 

Eld. Sift. This is not all, Madam , there are ie- 
veral Family CirCumftances befides thefe, which 
make a Union of Opinion abfolutely neceflary : 
As firft, Family-Worfhip, a thing without which 
Families, however privately and feparately devout, 
are coupled with Heathens, Jer. x. 25. Pour out thy 
Wrath upon the Heathen^ and upon the Families which 
call not tipon thy Name : Whatever there may be in 
publick Worfhip, there fhonld -always be an exact 
Harmony in private- and how can this be, where 
either of them diffents from the Manner? if there 

is 



r M4 1 

is a Difcord in the Manner, there can be no Cdn- 
cord in the Performance, no Union in the Affecti- 
ons j in a Word, their Prayers will be kindred, and 
who would be thus unequally yok d ? 

Old La. I expected you would name that Scrip 
ture, tho 3 it is certain that was fpoken principally 
to thofe who married with Unbelievers, which is a 
different Cafe. 

Eld. Sift. Well, Madam, but to come to another 
Cafe : Suppofe the Husband and Wife we are {peak 
ing of have Children, what Foundation of Eter 
nal Schifm is there in the Family ! fome of the 
Children adhere to the Father, fome to the Mo 
ther fome worfhip in Ms -Mount , and ibme no 
where but at Jerufalem $ fome go with the Father, 
fome with the Mother, fome kneel down with 
the Father, fome with the- Mother; till, as they 
grow up, they really learn not to kneel down at 
all : Family-Education, united Inflrudion, Cau 
tion, Example, they are all dreadfully mangled 
and divided, till in the End,- they come to nothing ; 
and the Children 3 grow out of Government, .paft 
Inftrudion, and ^re all loft. Thefe, Madam, are 
fome of the Reafons I would have, given my Father 
(if he would have had Patience with me,) why in 
his late Propofal he faid he had to make, I defired 
that I might be at Liberty to chooie by my own 
Principles, and not at random, as too many do. 

Old. La, But, Madam, do you not allow, that if 
both Parties are fincerely pious and religious, ;they 
may make Allowances to one another, and make 
Cqnlcience of hindering and pulling back one ano 
ther in the Duties of Religion ? 

Eld. Sift. Truly, Madam, as to that, two Things 
offer to my View, for I have often confidered 
them both: Firfr, The more fin cere in Religion 
either of them are,, the more fix d in Principle and 

Opinion 



Opinion, it is likely they will be, and the farther 
from making Abatements to one another $ and 
efpecially, Secondly, In the great Article of edu 
cating and inftrudting their Children j for what 
tender Mother, that having fix d her Opinion, as 
fhe thinks, in the beft Manner and Way, could 
bear not to have her Children brought up in the 
fame Sentiments of Religion, which fhe thinks 
moft agreeable to the reveal d Will of God ? and 
the more confcientious and religious fhe was, the 
more fteadily fhe would cleave to it as her Duty ^ 
and the like of the Man : So that here would be a 
conftant Heart-burning and Uneailnefs. 

Old La. Truly, Madam, I think your Reafbns 
good, and you guard them fb well with fuch felf- 
cvident Conclufions 5 that 1 cannot think your Fa 
ther can defire you to break thro 3 them : If you 
think it will be for your Service, I ll mention it 
again to him. 

Eld. Sift. If you do, Madam, I defire to be 
ab&nt for he will not bear it from me. 

Old La. Let me alone for that. 

When the old Lady had done this Converfation, 
fhe began to call for her Husband and the Father ; 
Ib the young Ladies withdrew : When fhe was 
come to them, fhe apply d herfelf to the Father 
and her Husband in a few Words. 

Wife. Upon my Word, fays Jhe to her Hush and ^ 
this young Lady has more Religion in her than all 
of us, and a clearer Sight into the particular Parts 
of a religious Life, than any that ever I met with 
before. 

Father. Why, fays the Father, have you had a 
Battle with my Betty ? 

L Mfi. 



Wife. No, upon my Word, we have had no Bat- 
tel ; I have not been able to open my Mouth 
againft one Word (he fays ^ (he is able to run down 
a whole Society of Do&ors in thefe Points ; I am a 
perfect Convert to all fhe fays, and tho I wifh from 
my Soul my Son had fuch a Wife, yet I would not 
for the World they fhould come together at the 
Price of putting the leaft Violence upon fuch no 
ble Principles, fo fblidly eftablifh d, and fo firmly 
adher d to 3 and I defy all Mankind to confute her. 

Husband. You prompt my Curiofity I wifh you 
could tell us a little of the Story. 

* Wife. A little ! I can eafily repeat it to you ; tis 
impoflible I ihould forget it : But it may be you. 
Sir, turning to the Father, may not care to hear it. 

Fa. Yes, yes ; I would very willingly hear it } 
tho 3 I did not care to hear it from her. 

Wife. Well then * 

Huf. I never heard any thing more folid, and 
intimating a thorough Senfe of Religion in my Life ; 
I wifh my Son and fhe were both of the fame Opi 
nion then ; for a Woman of fuch Principles can 
never be fatally miftaken in Opinion. 

Fa. I confefs I would never give her Opportu 
nity to explain herfelf thus with me ; but I affure 
you I am fo mov d with it, that I will never offer 
to impofe upon her again. 

Wife. Then you fee, Sir, it was an Error to be 
fb angry with your Child, as not to hear her ; I 
fear you have done fo with both of them. 

Fa. Truly I have ; but I fee now I have been 
wrong to them both ; and indeed more to my 
youngeft Daughter, than to my ejfieft ; for fhe 
refufed the Gentleman becaufe he really had no 

* Here Jhe gives them a full Account of all the Dif- 
courfe above. 

Religion 



C 47 ] 

Religion at all, and yet I was in a violent Paflioa 
with her. 

Wife. Nay, that was hard indeed ^ for if there 
be all this to be faid, why a Woman fhould not 
marry a Man of a different Opinion in Religion, 
there muft be much more to be laid why (he fhould 
not marry one that defpifes Religion ; and this in 
deed I faid to your youngeft Daughter, applauding 
her Con dud, tho 3 I did not know that you had 
ufed her hardly on that Account. 

Fa. I would be obliged to you. Madam, to let 
me know what Difcourfe you had with her too, 
for that Affair is ftill depending. 

Wife. With all my Heart ; my Difcourfe was not 
long- *. 

Fa. Indeed, Madam, you are right ; the thing 
is fo indeed ; but he was a pretty Gentleman, and 
had a very noble Eftate, and I was mightily pleased 
with the Thoughts of the Match, and that made 
me more paflionate with the Child, than I fhould 
otherwife have been. 

Wife. But how came fhe to know he was fitch a 
one. 

Fa. Truly, his own Folly too ; he told her fo 
diredtty, in fo many Words ; own d he had not 
troubled his Head about Religion, and did not in 
tend it y made a Banter and Jeft of Religion in 
general 3 told her, it was a Road he had never 
travel d, and that he intended to choofe a Wife firft, 
and then, perhaps, he might choofe his Religion. 

Wife. Nay then, either he had no Conduct, or 
no Affe&ion for her. 

Fa. As to the laft ; he not only profefs d a great 
deal of Affection, but chofe her out from the reft , 

* She repeats what flje bad faid to the youngeft 
Daughter, 

L 2 and. 



C MS 3 



and you know fhe is the youngeft, (for I defigned 
my eldeft for him) and made her the particular 
Miftrefs of his Choice ; and I verily believe lov d 
her very well ^ nay, the Girl cannot deny but fhe 
had a Kindnefs for him , and indeed he is a moft 
lovely Gentleman. 

Wife. She has aded a noble Part indeed ; and 
the more Affection fhe really had for him, the more 
of a Chriftian fhe has fhewn in her Conduct. 

Fa. So you would fay indeed, if you knew all 
her Conduct, and knew the Perfbn too. 

Wife. If it be not improper, I mould be glad to 
know the Perfbn. 

Fa. Madam, I fhould be loth to name him to 
his Prejudice ; and if you think it will be fb, I 
hope you will let it go no farther. 

Wife. I promife it fhall never go out of my Mouth 
without your Leave. 

Fa. Why it is young Mr. - - , a Gentleman, 
I believe you have heard of. 

Wife. Heard of him ! we know him intimately 
well : But I am furpriz d at it, upon an Account 
that I believe will furprize you too. 
Fa. What can that be ? 

Wife* Why it is true, that Gentleman had no 
Religion : Poor Gentleman ! he came of a moft 
unhappy Stock , there never was any Religion in 
the Family $ but yet this may be faid of him, he 
was a modeft, fober, well-behav d Gentleman ; 
you never heard an ill Word out of his Mouth, nor 
found any indecent Action in his Behaviour. 

Fa. That s true , and I thought that a great 
Matter, as the Youth go now. 

Wife. But I can tell you more News than that of 
him, he is become the moil pious, ferious, reli 
gious Gentleman in all the Country. 

JRr,You 



[ 49 3 

Fa. You furprize me indeed, now. 

Wife. I afTure you, tis no Copy of his Counte 
nance ; tis known, and he is valued and honour d 
for it by all the Gentlemen found him, and he be 
haves himfelf with fb much Humility, fo much 
ierious Gravity, that, in fhort, tis the Wonder 
and Surprize of all that know him. 

Fa. Pray, How long has this Alteration appear d 
in him ? 

Wife. About three Months I believe. 

Fa. I wifh you had told my Daughter this. 

Wife. It was impoflible I fhould have brought 
fuch a Thing in, that knew nothing of the Cir- 
cumftance. 

Fa. Nay, if you had, me would not have be- 
liev d a Word of it ; on the contrary, fhe would 
have taken it all for a Trick of mine, and that I 
had invited you hither on purpofe to bring in fuch 
a Story. 

Wife. Let me alone for that againft another Time , 
I hope you will give the young Ladies Leave to 
return this Vifit $ I defign to invite them to come 
and fee me. 

Upon this Foot the Difcourfe ended for that 
Time, and all Thoughts of the Match for the eld- 
eft Daughter with the Son of that Gentlewoman 
being laid afide for the prefent, the old Lady, at 
parting, in a very friendly Manner, invited the 
young Ladies to her Houfe, and they promifed to 
come, and the Father faid aloud he would come 
and bring them. 

It was not long before the young Ladies put 
their Father in mind of his Appointment for be 
ing mightily pleafed with the old Gentlewoman, 
they had a great Mind to pay the Vifit, that the 
Acquaintance might be fettled. Their Father ap- 

L 3 pointed 



pointed the next Day, but being interrupted juft 
at the Time he intended to go, he caufed them to 
go without him, and fend the Coach back for him 
to cbme after them when his Bufinefs was done. 

While they were here, the good old Gentlewo 
man, who entertained them with great Civility, 
diverted them with every thing Ihe could think of 3 
and after abundance of other ufeful Chat, they 
fell to talking the old Stories over again, about 
religious Husbands, and the Neceflity there was to 
have both Husband and Wife joyn their Endea 
vours for propagating Family - Religion : The 
youngeft Daughter repeated her Mother s Maxim ; 
Madam, fays (he, it was a Rule my Mother gave 
us at her Death, and which I fee fo much Weight 
in, that I defire to make it the Foundation,* upon 
which I would build all my Profpeds of Happinefs, 
&lt;vtz. 3* hat a religious Life is the only Heaven upon 
Earth : I have added Ibme other things to it fmce, 
which my own Obfervation directs me to, but 
which I believe you will allow to be in their De 
gree juft fuch as thefe, viz. That a religious Fa 
mily is one of the greateft Comforts of a religious 
Life, That where both Husband and Wife are not 
mutually, at Jeaft. if not equally religious, there 
can never be a truly religious Family ; That there 
fore for a religioufly inclined Woman to marry an 
irreligious Husband, is to entail Perfecution upon 
herfelf as long as fhe lives. The old Lady reply d, 
I find, Madam, as young as you are, you have 
ftudied this Point very well. Indeed, Madam, faid 
the eldeffi Sifter^ my Sifter has had Occafion for 
it 3 for fhe has been hard put to it, what with the 
Offers of an extraordinary Match, my Father s vio 
lent Paffion, and ( among ourfel&lt;ves 9 Madam ) not 
a little the Importunity of her own Affections, 
that for my Part, I muft confeft, I wonder fhe has 

been 



[ 5 ] 

been able to ftand her Ground : They are three 
powerful Arguments, I acknowledge, faid the old 
Lady. Pray, Madam, as far as it may be proper, 
let me know fomething of the Manner ; you need 
not mention Perfons , I am not inquifitive on that 
Icore, I allure you : If my Sifter give me Leave, 
Madam, fays the eldeft ; the youngefl faid Jhe left 
her at Liberty. Why then, Madam, fays Jhe , My 

Father * 

Well, Madam, fays fhe y I will npt fay 3!! my 
Thoughts on this furprizing Story, becaufe your 
Sifter is here, for tis a Rule with me never to 
praiie any one to their Face, or reproach any 
behind their Backs ; but it is an extraordinary 
Story indeed , and turning to the youngeft Sifter, 
Ihe faid to her very ferioufly, / fray God fortify 
you, Child, in fuch Refolutions, and grant that 
you may have the true End of them fully anfwerd , 
that if ever you do marry , it may be to a Man 
as uncommonly ferious, pious, and fincere^ as you 
have been inimitably refolute in refusing fuch great 
Offers for the Want of it. Then turning to her 
eldeft Sifter, fays me, This furprizing Story puts 
me in mind of another Story which a very good 
Man, an old Acquaintance of ours, told me the 
other Day, and which they fay has juft now hap- 
pen d to a young Gentleman that he knows in the 
Country, it s a pretty way off too, but he told us 
his Name, I believe my Husband knows the Name, 
and I tell you the Story for your Sifter s Encou 
ragement ; who knows, but me may be a means 
by fuch unexampled Condudt as this of her s is, to 

* Here Jhe gives her an Abridgment of the whole 
Story, but without the mofl extravagant Part of 
her Fathers PaJJion, that it might not reflefl upor, 
him. 

L 4 



r 15*3 

bring the Gentleman (he has had upon her Hands 
to Ibme Senfe of his Condition. 

There is a Gentleman in that Country of a very 
good Family, and of a very great Eftate, but 
young, and I think he faid a Batchelor j he is not 
above fix and twenty, and has between two and 
three thoufand a year, it leems he is a moft accom- 
pliih d well-bred Man, a handiome charming Per- 
fbn 5 and every thing that could be faid of a Man, 
to fet him out, he faid of him : He had indeed 
been of a Family, Joe faid^ that had been eminently 
wicked, fb that the very Name of Religion had 
fcarce been heard of among them for fbme Ages$ 
and young Mafter, faid my Friend, could not well 
be faid to be worfe than his Father and Grand 
father, who went before him. 

However, it happen d it feems, that he went to 
London, I think^ fays fhe, my Friend faid twas laft 
Winter ^ and when he came back he was ftrangely 
melancholy and dejected, and quite alter 5 d in his 
Converfation ; inftead of riding abroad and vifit- 
ing the Gentlemen, and receiving Vifits from them, 
he fhun d all Company, walk d about his Gardens 
and Woods all alone till very late in the Night, 
and all his Servants wonder d what ailed him ; that 
one Night they were in a great Fright for him, 
knowing he was out on Foot , and alone ; when, 
about ten a Clock at Night he came in with a poor 
honeft Country Fellow with him, that liv d almoft 
three miles off , that the next Day he took that 
poor Man home to his Houfe, and fent for his 
Wife and Children, who all liv d before in a poor 
Cottage on the Wafte, and provided for them ; 
gave the poor Man a Farm Rent-free for twelve 
Years, which always went for 22 /. a year, with a 
good Houfe, lent him a Stock for manuring it too, 
and made him, Bailiff of the Manor j and, in fhort, 

made 



C 53] 

made a Man of him : Whereupon every body {aid, 
that the Efquire had been in fome great Danger or 
other, and the poor Man had faved his Life ; and 
when fbme body happen d to fay as much to him 
one Day, he anfwer d yes, that poor Man had done 
more than faved his Life, for be hadfaved his Soul. 

It feems this poor labouring Wretch, tho, mife- 
rable to the laft Degree, as to this World, was yet 
known to be a moft religious ferious Chriftian, and 
a very modeft, humble, but knowing and fenfible 
Man, and he had been difcourfmg good Things 
with him, and from that time forward the poor 
Man was fcarce ever from him ; that it was obferv d 
by fome of the Servants, that the next Morning 
after the poor Man came Home with him, he came 
again and brought a Bible with him, which was left 
in the young Gentleman s Chamber, and that this 
poor Man and he were often lock d up an Hour or 
two together almoft every Day ; that next Market 
Day the poor Man went to the next Market Town 
upon fome Bufinefs for the Gentleman, and brought 
Hom a new Bible, and feveral other religious 
Books, and that his Mafter was continually reading 
them : In fhort, our Friend tells us, fays Jloe^ that 
he is become the moft fbber, religious Chriftian, 
that for a Man of his Fortune and Quality has ever 
been heard of, and that he is admired by all the 
Country for it. 

I tell you this Story, Madam, turning to the 
youngeft Sifter, to confirm you in your Refolution., 
and to let you fee, that there arc fbme religious 
Gentlemen in the World ftill, and that the Gen 
tlemen may be afhamed, when they pretend to fay 
Religion is below their Quality &gt; for my Friend fay s^ 
that this Gentleipan is with his Religion alfb the 
humbleft, fweeteft temper d Creature in the World, 
ready to do good Offices to the pooreft of the 

County, 



C 154 ] 

County, and yet mannerly, and agreeably pleafant 
whh the Greateft, and his Family is a little Pattern 
of Vertue to all round them. 

Ay, Madam, fays the eldeft, tis fuch a Gentle 
man my Sifter would have : But, fays her Sifter , 
where are they to be found ? I never expect it : 
Pray, Madam, fays the eldeft Sifter, in what Part 
of the World does this black Swan^ this unheard- 
of non-fuch Thing of a. Gentleman live ? I really 
forget the Place, Madam, fays the old Lady^ but 
3 tis fomewhere in Hampshire. 

She perceiv d at that Word both the young Ladies 
chang d a little, and look d at one another , fo fhe 
turn d her Difcourfe off to fbme other Subject, and 
left them in the Dark as to the Name of the Gen 
tleman ; for fhe perceived they both guefs d at it, 
or fufpe&ed it. 

When they had taken their Leave, and the two 
Sifters were in the Coach coming Home, fays the 

eldeft Sifter to tbe other ^ Did you obferve Mrs. s 

Story of the Gentleman in Hampshire ? Yes, faid 
the other, I did ; and I believe you fancy tis the 
lame Perfon we know of: It s very true, fays the 
eldeft^ I did think fo all the while fhe was telling 
the Story ; and I expefted fhe would name him, 
but I was loth to ask her his Name : I am glad you 
didn t, fays the other ^ for I know no Good it can be 
to me, to hear it one way or other, now he is gone. 
Why would not you be glad to know that he was 
really fuch a one as fhe has defcribed, fays the eldeft ? 
Yes truly for his own Sake I fhould, faid her Sifter ; 
but tis nothing to me now , I had rather never 
have him mention d at all to me, upon any Occa- 
fion whatever. 

After they were come Home, their Father, who 
being engaged all the while, had fent the Coach 
back for them, with an Excufe for his not coming, 

was 






C 55] 

was very inquifitive to know of them what Dif- 
courfe they had had, and his eldeft Daughter telling 
him one Story and another Story, he would cry, 
Well, was that all ? for he expected fhe had broke 
the Thing to them : No, fays the eldeft, fhe told 
us a ftrange Story in Hampjbire , and with that re 
peated the PafTage above Word for Word. Her 
Father took no Notice of it at that Time, but two 
or three Days after., as they were at Supper, he 
fays to his eldeft Daughter, Betty, fays he, iVbo do 
you think the Gentleman in Hampfhire is, that Mrs. 

B told you the Story of? I cannot tell, fays fhe ; 

Pray who was it ? Even as I thought when you 
told of it, [aid her Father, for I had heard fometh ing 

cf it before - y it s no body elfe but Mr. the 

fame your wife Sifter there thought fit to treat 
with fo much ill Manners. 

Nay, Sir, fays the eldeft, do not fay my Sifter 
treated him with / // Manners ; for he owns the con 
trary to that himfelf-, but how are you fure of it, 
Sir, that it is he ? Why I have had the Story, fays 
her Father, from her Husband, who is greatly af- 
feded with it, and he named his Name to me, not 
knowing in the leaft that I knew any thing of him. 

Truly, fays the eldeft, I am very glad of it for 
his Sake, but it does not fignify a farthing to her 
now j for if he was to come to her again to Mor - 
row, with all his Sobriety and Reformation about 
him, me would have nothing to fay to him. 

Why fo, Child, fays the Father ? Did you not 
own fhe lov d him? Yes, fays the Daughter, be 
fore fhe came to know what a Creature he was : 
Well then, fays her Father, if that be removed, 
and he is become another Man, fhe will love him 
again ; for fhe had no other Objection againft him, 
had fhe ? No, Sir, fays the Daughter, fhe had no 
other Objection 3 but fhe will never believe him, 

let 



C 

let his Pretences to Religion be what they will : 
why fb, fays the Father ? Becaufe, Sir, he told her 
that if he had known her Mind, he would 
have pretended a world of Reformation and Reli 
gion, and that he did not doubt but he could be 
Hypocrite enough to cheat her. 

Nay, if he has been fo foolifh, I know not what 
to fay to it, fays the Father let it reft as it is : if 
fhe will not have him, whether he be religious, or 
not religious, then the Objection of his being not 
religious, was a Sham and a Cloak, and fhe ftands 
out in meer Obftinacy againft her own Intereft, 
purely to affront her Father ; let her go on, till fhe 
comes to be convinced by her own Misfortune, I ll 
meddle no more about it. 

The eldeft Sifter fail d not to relate this Story 
very particularly to her Sifter, who very gravely 
muling on the Particulars, anfwer d her Sifter thus, 
after feveral other fober and religious Expreffions : 

Dear Sifter, fays fhe, this Thing has been Af- 
fli&ion enough to me , but my Father s Conduct 
has always made it double ; becaufe he cannot talk 
of it without Refentment and Unkindnefs : If it 

be really fo, that this is the Gentleman Mrs. E 

told us the Story of Yefterday, I fhould rejoice ; 
nay, tho 5 I am loth to be cheated, and what he 
laid of playing the Hypocrite with me, has made 
me the more backward to give Credit to Outfides, 
yet were I fure it was a real Work of God in him, 
and that he was become a religious Gentleman, 
you know I have Affection enough to rejoice on 
rny own Account, and to entertain him after an 
other Manner than before But yet two Things 
make it ftiil remote from me, firft^ That I have no 
Demonftration of the Truth of the Fact : And 
fecondly^ That if it is fo, he has made no Step to 
wards me, and perhaps never may 5 and you know, 

.Sifter, 



[ 57] 

Sifter, continued Jhe, tis no Bufmefs of mine till he 
does. 

Why that s true, fays the eldeft Sifter ^ but what 
muft be done then ? 

Done, fays Jhe, let it alone ; let it reft, till we 
hear fomething or other of it in the ordinary way 
of fuch Things. 

But what muft we do with my Father ? fays the 
eldeft) for he is always talking to me about it. 

Do ! fays the other -, give the fame Anfwer to him 
from me, as I do to you. 

Then,/^5 The eldeft ^ I am fure he will never reft 
till he brings it about again, for he is ftrangely in 
tent upon it. 

Let that be as pleafes God, I will be wholly 
neuter, fays the youngeft Sifter. 

Some time after this Difcourfe, the Father, hav 
ing fbme Occafion for his Health, went down to 
the Bath) and taking all his Daughters with him, 
they continued there Ibme Months, in which Time 
they contracted an intimate Acquaintance with a 
Lady and her two Daughters, who came thither 
from Hampfbirc : The old Lady had been a Widow 
of a Gentleman of Quality, by whom fhe had 
had two Daughters, but was now married to an 
eminent Clergyman in the Country where fhe 
liv d ; and they were all together at the Batb 9 and 
lodg d in the fame Apartments with thefe Ladies. 

It happen d one Day after Dinner, talking free 
ly together about marrying religious Husbands and 
Wives; the eldeft Daughter, as what is always 
much upon the Mind, will be in Proportion much 
upon the Tongue, infifted in Difcourfe, upon the Mi- 
fery of unequal Matches, and how unhappy it was, 
either to Husband or Wife, when a religious, pious, 
fmcere Chriftian, whether Man or Woman, was 
married to another who had no Senfe of Religion, 

and 



r 

and fhe gives a long Account of a Relation of 
their Father s, but without naming their Aunt, hoW 
good a Husband fhe had in all other Refpe&s, how 
comfortably and pleafantly they liv d, but only for 
that one Thing ; and then fhe told them (ftill with 
out naming any-body) how many odd Tricks Sir 
James ferv d his Lady, and the like. 

Well, Madam, fays the old Clergyman, I can 
tell you fuch a Story of a Lady in our County, as 
I believe you never heard the like ; I do not know 
the Woman., fays the Dotfor, but I know the Gen 
tleman intimately well, and have had a great deal 
of religious Converfation with him upon the Occa- 
fion I fhall tell you of. 

He courted a young Lady, fays the Doffor, but 
whether fhe liv d in our Country, or the City, or 
where, he is perfectly mute, only that he often 
tells her Chriftian Name - and feeing he feems re- 
fblved to conceal her Perfbn, no body will be fb 
rude to prefs him on fhat Head. 

The Gentleman,/^ the Doff or, is of a very good 
Family, has a noble Eftate, a comely Perfbn, and 
a compleat courtly Education, and till this happen d, 
was almoft always at London. 

His Miflrefs muft be little lefs than an Angel in 
human Shape, by his Defcription, but that we give 
no heed to , for, Madam, fays the old Doffor, you 
know Men in Love give themfelves a Liberty that 
way : But however, after all Things were agreed, 
and the Writings drawing, it feems, fhe threw him 
off entirely, and refufed him merely becaufe fhe 
found he was a Man of no Religion. 

Says the eldeft Stfter, How could fhe know that. 
Sir ? he was not fo foolilh to tell her fb himfelf, I 
fuppofe. 

Yes, 



C 59 1 

Yes, fays the Doffor, he did : Why then,/iyj the 
Sifter^ I fuppofe he was very indifferent whether 
he had her or no. Indeed, fays the Doffor, one 
.would think fo, and I fetid fo to him j but he told me 
that it was fo far from that, that he had taken up 
his Refolution never to have any other Woman, if 
fhe were the richeft, belt and moft beautiful Crea 
ture alive. 

Then, perhaps, the Lady has a fuperior Fortune 
to him, befides her other Qualifications, fays the 
Sifter. No, juft the contrary, fays the Dotfor. But, 
Madam, fays he, I ll tell you the Hiftory of this 
Gentleman, if it is not too long for you ; tis a 
Story cannot be unprofitable to any one to hear, 
efpecially to you Ladies^ who have taken up fuch 
happy Refolutions about marrying none but religi 
ous Husbands, fhe Ladies bowd^ in Token they 
defired him to go on with his Story. So the Doff or 
went on. 

Nothing touch d this Gentleman fb near, fays he^ 
after he was gone from his Miftrefs, as to reflect 
what kind of a Wretch or Monfter he was, that a 
vertuous young Lady, and one who had Reafbn 
to believe had no Diflike of him, fhould be afraid 
to marry him for fear of being ruin d, and that fhe 
Ihould think if fhe took him, fhe declared War 
againft Heaven, and renounc d all Pretenfions of 
Duty to her Maker * 

* Here he related the whole Story , his falk with 
bimfelft the Difcourfe at the Chocolate-houfe, his 
Retreat into the Country , bis happening to hear the 
poor Countryman at Prayer^ his Conversation with 
him upon the lay^ and his Conduff afterward, all 
in the Manner as related before, 

We 



[ 160 ] 

We muft fuppofe the Sifters to have much lefs 
Senfe of Religion than they were known to have, 
and particularly lefs Senfe of the Cafe it felf, in 
which it was eafy to know they were nearly con- 
cern d, if they were not very much moved with 
the Particulars of this Story ; and no fooner had the 
Doctor finifh d his Relation,, with fome very hand- 
fome Reflections upon it, but the Sifters long d 
to withdraw, to compare their own Thoughts to 
gether, where they could do it with Freedom. 

But the eldeft Daughter went farther, for tho* 
perhaps her Curiofi ty was not greater than herSifter s, 
yet as her Courage was greater, and her Concern 
in it Jefs, me was refblved to get the Name of this 
Gentleman, ifpoffible; accordingly, at length, me 
ask d the Doctor, if the Name of this Gentleman 
was a Secret ? No, Madam, fays the Doff or, the whole 
Neighbourhood know the Story in general, and it 
is nothing at all to his Difhonour. No indeed, Sir, 
fays fa, but juft the contrary j and if it was other- 
wife, I would not have ask d his Name. Indeed, 
Madam, fays the Dotfor, his Name Is no Secret , it 
is Mr. the eldeft Son of Sir Thomas -, by 
whom he enjoys an Eftate of 2000 /. a year, ana 
after his Uncle, who is very old, he has near a 
thoufand Pounds a year more entail d upon him. 

The two Sifters had heard too much to hold 
any longer, the younger efpecially, who pretending 
ibme Indifpofition, withdrew, and her Sifter fbon 
after : When her Sifter came to her, me {aid, Wett^ 
Child, what do you fay to this Story ? There s no 
room to think there can be any Defign in this old 
Gentleman, or any Hypocrify in the Particulars, 
if they are true. 

Her Sifter faid never a Word, but fhe found me 
had been crying, and that fhe was ftill too full of 
it to fpeak 5 fo fhe let her alone a while, till, after 

fome 



after fome time, fetching a great Sigh, which 
her Paffions fbme Vent, fays the youngeft^ Why, 
what do you fay to it ? I fay to it ! fays the eldeft 
Sifter, I can fay neither lefs or more to it than what 
the Two Difciples faid to one another, going to 
EmmauS) about our Saviour s Difcourfe to them, 
after he was gone. Did not our Hearts burn within us 
when he talked to us ? I am fure mine did, fays foe y 
Ay, and mine too, fays the yottngefl : But it i, all 
nothing to me, now. Nay, fays the eldeft Sifter, 
if all the Story be true, it may be fbmething to 
you ftill 5 for you fee, the Doff or fays^ he is refbiv d 
to have no Body elfe. I give no heed to that, fays 
the youngeft Sifter^ for the Tables are quite tuffird 
now between us, and he ought to refufe me now 9 
for the very fame Reafon that I refufed him before ; 
for I have not Religion enough for fuch a Convert 
as this, I am fure, any more than a Man without 
any Notion of a Deity, had Religion enough for 
me. Well, well, fays her Sifter, let Providence, 
which brings all Things to pafs its own Way, work 
as he fees fit ; I dare fay, as my Aunt faid, we fhall 
hear more of it. 

They had very little Difcourfe at that Time but 
what ended thus : But the eldeft Sifter had a great 
mind her Father fhould hear the Story too, if po* 
fible, before they left the Place ; and me refblved 
to take an Opportunity to bring it about, if me 
could ; but fhe was happily prevented by the For- 
wardnefs of her Father to complain of his Daugh 
ter s Nicety on all Occafions; for in Difcourfe with 
the Do6tor and his Lady the young Ladies on both 
Sides being abfent, he took a Liberty to exclaim 
vehemently, how fbolifh one of his Daughters had 
been, and how fhe had obftinately caft off a Gen 
tleman of fuch and fuch Qualifications, as before. 
My Dear, fays the Dodfcor s Lady to him. Pray 

M teii 



tell Mr. the Story } 7 ou told the young Ladies 
Yefterday: With all my Heart, faid the Do&or, 
fo he repeated the whole Story. 

The Father was exceedingly furprized at the 
Particulars, but more when the Doctor told him the 
Name of the Gentleman : However, he held his 
Tongue, as it happen d, and did not let the Doctor 
know how near it related to his Family ; but in the 
Evening, taking his Opportunity, he calls his eldeft 
Daughter to him, Hark, ye, Betty, fays he, Did the 
Doffior tell you a Story f other Day of a Gentleman in 
Hampfhire? Yes, Sir, fays fhe : And was your Sifter 
~by ? fays he. Yes, Sir, fays fhe : And do you know 
that this is the fame Mr. that we know of? fays her 
Father. Yes, Sir, fays foe, he told us his Name : Well, 
and what does your Sifter fay to it ? fays he : She fays 
little, Sir, fays his Daughter but fhe cannot but be 
mov d with it, for tis a furprizing Story. 1 dare fay , 
lays her Father, Ijball hear of him again ; fhe won t 
turn him off again, I hope , I am fure fhe does not 
deferve him now. She fays fo herfelf, fays the 
Daughter, That he ought to refufe her now, for 
the fame Reafon that fhe refufed him. Well, fays 
the Father, wejhall certainly hear of him again, I am 
fully perfuaded - y he will have no Reft till he comes 
to fee for her again. 

A few Weeks after this they returned to London, 
and the eldeft Sifter being impatient to fee her 
Aunt, and to give her fbme Account of thefe 
Things, they went both away to Hampftcad : When 
they came thither, fhe failed not to give her Aunt 
a particular Account of all thefe Paffages, as well 
that which had happen d at their Vifit to the Mer 
chant s Lady in London, as what had happen d at 
the Bath , all which, but efpecially the laft, were 
wonderfully furprizing and agreeable to their Aunt. 
Well, Niece, fays the Aunt to the youngeft Sifter, 



what do you think of all the fe things ? I can fay little 
to them. Madam, fays foe I am glad, for his fake, 
that God has open d his Eyes. But is it no Satit 
faction to you. Child, fays her Aunt, that you have 
been fo far the Inftrument of it ? Alas ! Madam, 
faysJJje, I the Inftrument ! I have been none of the 
Inftrument, not I. Yes, yes, replies her Aunt, you 
have, and he acknowledges it too : And turning 
to the eldeft Sifter, fays floe, I think Child, now 
you may perform your Promife, and tell your 
Sifter what he faid to you when he call d here as 
he went out of Town. Yes, Madam, fays Jhe, fo 
I think too *. 

I think you might have told me this before, fays 
the youngeft Sifter. Nay, Sifter, replied Jhe, Did you 
not take me fhort, and forbid me telling you any 
thing, and withdraw out of the Room, and bid 
me tell it my Aunt ? Why that s true, I did fo,fays 
Jhe again, and I have been fo confus d, that I know 
not when I do well, and when I do ill : Indeed, 
Niece, fays her Aunt, I alfb obliged her not to tell 
you j for I concluded, if there was any thing m 
it, we fhould hear of it again, and if we did not, 
it could do you no Service. 

While they were talking thus, a Coach ftopt at 
the Door, and a Servant brought word their Fa 
ther, and another Gentleman with him, was below 
Stairs. 

It will be neceflary here to leave this Part a while, 
and bring forward the Story of the young Gentle 
man, as far as it is needful to the Coherence of 
Things j the Story alfb will be very fhort. 

* Here Jhe gives her Sifter a full Account of what he 
had faid, as before. 

M z The 



C 

The young Gentleman having, as has been faid, 
taken his new Tutor, the poor Countryman, into 
the Houfe with him, received fo much Afliftance 
from his Advice, and had daily fuch Inftrudion in 
religious Things, from the wholfome, plain Coun- 
fels of this humble poor Creature, that the Benefit 
of them ibon appear d in his Converfation, and 
his Reformation fbon became vifible in the gene 
ral. Courie of his Life; he kept Company with 
the fbbereft, graveft, and moft religious Perfons 
that he could find he kept a moft fober, regular, 
reformed Family, and feeming to refolve to refide 
pretty much there, for the better Government of 
his Family, he took in a young Minifter of an ex 
traordinary good Character to be his Chaplain, and 
cauied every Servant who appeared disorderly or 
vicious to be put away out of his Houfe. 

Thefe, as the natural Confequences of a fincere 
Work upon his own Mind, were the vifible Product 
of that blelTed Change, and indeed an agreeable 
Evidence of the Sincerity of it ; but they were 
far from being the Sum of Things ; for, in a Word, 
he proved to be a moft pious fincere Chriftian in 
all his Ways ; and as this was attended with a na 
tural Sweetnefs in his Dilpofition, Modefty and 
Generofity in his Manner, and an excellent Tem 
per, free from all manner of Pride or Hypocriiy, 
it made him perfectly agreeable to all forts of Peo 
ple ; thofe who were not like him valued and ho 
noured him, and the fober, religious Part of Men 
were delighted in him beyond expreffing. 

He went on thus for near two Years, liv d gene 
rally in the Country ; and if he came to London^ 
as Occafion requir d, yet it appeared that his 
Choice was rather for the Country -, efpecially, be- 
caufe he could not be long from his faithful A- 
fiftant the poor Countryman, who was upon all 

Occa- 



Occafions, as we may r fay, Clerk of the Clofet to 
him, and with whom he kept up a moft religion-* 
but lecret Converfation, and had Retirements with 
him, which none were acquainted with but them- 
felves. 

But in all this Enjoyment of himfelf and the retir d 
Life he had now plac d his Delight in, he found 
fomething ftili wanting too, as well to complete his 
Happinefs here, as to forward his Progrefs in Things 
of an eternal and durable Nature, and he began to 
fay to himfelf, that he had robb d himfelf of much 
of his Comfort, in neglecting fb long to have the 
Affiftance of that bleffed Creature^ who God had 
made the firft Inftrument to touch his Mind with a 
Senfe of good Things. 

Thefe Thoughts dwelt upon his Heart a great 
while, and he found himfelf very uneafy : It oc- 
curr d to him, that certainly, as it had pleafed God 
to make that young Woman give him the Alarm, 
and ftrike his Soul with the firft Senfe of his 
wretched Condition, he had certainly furnifh d 
her for his farther AfHftance, and made her capa 
ble of giving him further Help, Light and Direc^ 
tions in his Duty, and that he ftood in the Way 
of his own Comforts all the while he was without 
her , nay, that he feemed to reject the Inftrument 
by which God had done him fo much Good, with 
out inquiring whether God had defigned her for 
his farther Benefit or no. 

He reflected how fuitable a Difpofition me was 
of in religious Things, to the Defign he had of 
keeping up a religious Family, and how admirable 
a Wife, a Mother, a Miftrefs, fuch a Lady muft 
needs be to him, and his whole Houfe ; who now 
law the Truth of that excellent Sentence fhe had 
often repeated to him, viz. fhat a religious Life was 
tfa only Heaven upon Earth. He difcourfed all thefe 
M 3 Things 



C i*&lt;$ 3 

Things with his faithful Counfellor poor William, 
who prefled him by all the Perfuafions he could ufe 
to go and mak her his own ; for it was the only 
Fear William faid he had for him, that he would 
marry fbme Lady, who having been brought up in 
the ufual Levity of the Times, would pull him 
backward, rather than forward him in his religious 
Refblutions. 

With thefe Thoughts he refolved to go to Lon 
don, and apply himielf immediately to his former 
Miftrefs, and obtain her for [his own, if poflible , 
but was exceedingly difappointed, when he found 
fhe and her Father, and all the Family, were gone 
to the Bath. 

However he waited, and hearing of their Re 
turn, he went immediately to make his Vifit, with 
out any Ceremony : When he found fhe was Abroad, 
he fell to work feriouily with her Father , he told 
him, that the laft Time he was there, he had in 
deed promifed to wait on her again, but had not 
yet done it, for which he was come now to ask 
her Pardon, and to give her the Reafon of it, and 
hoped he would give him Leave to fee his Daugh 
ter again, notwithflanding what had paft. Her 
Father told him he had received an Account how 
his Daughter had us d him ; that he was in the 
Country when it happen d, otherwife he fhould 
have concern d himfelf to have fecured him better 
Treatment , that he had relented it fb already to 
his Daughter, that he had fcarce been in Speaking- 
Terms with her fmce ; that as to his Promife of 
coming again, he believed fhe was convinc d that 
fhe had no Reafon to expect it, feeing no Gentle 
man would care to be ill us d twice upon the fame 
Occafion. The young Gentleman anfwer d, That 
he was very fbrry he fhould refent any thing from 
his Daughter on his Account , that he wasfurpriz d 

to 



f 1*7 ] 

Wwf * 

to hear him fay fhe had ill us d him ; that upon his 
Word fhe had not done or faid the Jeaft unbecom 
ing Thing to him , that he was even then when fhe 
did it, fully convinced of the Reafonablenefs of 
what flie had faid, and Ten times as much, if tbat 
were poffible, and alfo of the juft Motives fhe had to 
lay it to him ; that if fhe had done lefs, fhe would 
have aded from meaner Principles than he knew fhe 
was the Miftrefs of, and that her Reafbns were fo 
good, and fhe ib well maintain d them, that he had 
neither then, or now, the leaft thing to offer againft 
them, and that his Bufmefs was not now to anfwer 
her Arguments, but to fee if he could comply bet 
ter with the juft Demands fhe then made, than he 
could before. 

The Father anfwer d with a great many Compli 
ments and Excufes, and fuch like Difcourfes $ but the 
Gentleman found that he neither relifh d the Reafon 
of his Daughter s Refufal, or was affeded at all with 
all he could fay to convince him how he had taken 
it 3 and Modefty forbidding him to go farther in 
any Declaration about religious Matters, efpeci- 
ally where he found there was no Tafle of it, he 
declined faying any more about it 3 but turn d his 
Difcourfe to defiring another Interview with his 
Daughter upon the Terms of former Propofals, 
which the Father confenting to, they went toge 
ther in the young Gentleman s Chariot to Hamp- 
ftead^ where the yopng Ladies were, and this was 
the Gentleman, who, as I obferved, was come to 
the Door with their Father, juft as they were above 
talking of him with their Aunt. 

I had giving an Account before, that they heard 
a Coach ftop at the Gate, and that a Servant 
brought up Word, that their Father and another 
Gentleman was below Stairs : But they were fur- 
priz d, you may be fure, when the eldeft Sifter, 
M 4 going 



going down firft, comes running up flairs again, 
with the News, in fhort, that it was Mr. - , 
and that their Father had brought him. 

The Aunt, unwilling her Niece mould appear 
in any Difbrder, lays to her. Come, Child^ you two 
Jh all ft ay a little , and let me go down firft, which the 
younger Sifter was very glad of. It was eafy to 
perceive, and the Paflages already related will al 
low us to fuppofe, that altho it was fbme Surprize 
to the young Lady to have him come thus fudden- 
ly and abruptly upon her, having not prepar d her 
Thoughts, or refblv d upon what Reception to 
give him, and not having the leaft Intimation from 
her Father upon what Account he came, yet that 
fhe was not alarm d as foe usd to le -, the Scruples of 
her Conference were all anfwer d ; her Jealoufies 
of his Hypocrify were over and her Affe&ion 
had littler or nothing to ftruggle with now, unlefs 
fhe might doubt his Refentment of Things paft, and 
whether he came upon the old Account, or rather 
to perform his Promife, and make a Vifit of Cere 
mony only : However fhe begg d her Sifter to fpeak 
to her Aunt, that they might ftay at her Houfe, 
and that fhe might receive his Vifits there, becaufe 
then fhe would have her Aunt to advife and con- 
fiilt with, on every Occafion, and then that fhe 
would put off their being left together that Night, 
that fhe might confider Things a little, and know 
the better how to receive him. 

Her Sifter went down, and fending for her Aunt 
into another Room, propofed the firft to her 3 Let 
me alone, Niece , for that, fays Jhc: So the other 
went up to her Sifter, and fbon after the Father 
calling for his two Daughters, they went down in 
to the Room. It was eafy for her at firft Sight, to 
perceive that her Lover was not at all alter d in his 
Affection to her 5 that he did not come to her witfy 

Refent- 



169 

Refentment, or with Ceremony ; for he flew to 
her, took her in his Arms, and told her, he came 
to lee if Ihe had Goodnefs enough to pardon his 
not keeping his Word with her, in coming to wait 
on her again, and alfo to claim her Promife of flay 
ing for him : He fpoke this fo fbftly, as not to be 
heard by the Company, and without expecting any 
Anfwer, turn d about to pay his Refpefts to her 
Aunt ; in doing which, he told her, he hop d (he 
\vould give him Leave to wait upon her Niece at 
her Houfe. 

The Aunt took the Hint, and turning to the 
Father, Brother, fays fhe to him privately, I think 
if you would let my Niece flay here ibme time, 
and let the Gentleman come to wait on her here, 
I would take care to prevent fuch little Scruples as 
you know interrupted that Affair before, and you 
will the fooner bring it to an End, according to 
your Mind. With all my Heart, fays the Father ; 
if we had done fo before, I believe fhe had not 
play d the Fool as fhe did. 

Upon this, turning themfelves to the Company, 
foe fays aloud^ Niece, / dont intend, to lofe your Com 
pany Thus I fuppofe, if this Gentleman defigns to 
vifit you, he wont think it a great way to come to 
Plampfteadj which, now the Roads are fb good, is 
not above an Hour s driving , and, I hope, we fhall 
not make his Entertainment fb ill, as to make him 
weary of coming hither. Her Niece faid, that 
muft be as her Father pleafed to direct : / know /to, 
fays her Aunt j and therefore I have got your 
Father s Confent already. They bow d both to her 
in Token of Affent, and Night coming on, her 
Father talk d of going away- fo he told her he. 
would take another Opportunity to wait on her, 
which was what fhe had defired. And thus ended 1 
their firft Meeting. 

They 



C 70 ] 

They had fcarce din d the next Day, but, as he 
had faid, he came to vifit her, and they had the 
whole Afternoon to themfelves, and from that 
Day they began to underftand one another fo well, 
that in a few Weeks Matters began to draw to a 
Clofe. But becaufe fome Part of their Difcourfe is 
neceffary to finifh the former Account, and may be 
as ufeful as it is entertaining, I fhall firft give ibme 
of the Particulars, as they occurred in Difcourfe 
between her and her Aunt and Sifter upon this 
Occafion. 

As fhe had advis d with her Sifter and Aunt upon 
every Particular, and efpecially with her Sifter, 
from the firft of it ; fb fhe made no Scruple to give 
them a full Account of Things as they paft. It 
was one Morning, after the Gentleman had/ been 
above a Week in his new .AddrefTes, that coming 
into her Aunt s Dreffing-Room, fhe found her Sifter 
there drinking Coffee with her Aunt, and her Sifter 
began with her thus $ 

Eld. Sift. Well, Sifter, you us d to be free with 
a body y and tell one now and then, how Things went 
with you , now we hear nothing from you , what 
is it all to be a Secret ? 

Aunt. Nay, Niece, you ought not to prefs your 
Sifter to give an Account of fuch Things. 

Eld. Sift. When fhe wanted Advice, Madam, fhe 
was open enough. 

Aunt. For my Part I wifh her as well as I do my 
own Children , but I cannot defire her to give any 
Account of fuch Things, unlefs fhe wants Advice 
in any Thing, and then (he s a Judge of that. 

To. Sift: Indeed, Madam, if I have not told any 
Thing, or every Thing, both to you and my Sifter, 
it has not been by way of Refer ve ^ I am ready to 
give you a full Account of all you defire , for there 

is 



is nothing pafles between us, that need be con- 
ceal d from you that are fb near to me : As for my 
Sifter, I told her every PafTage before ; and as for 
you. Madam, did I not defire to be here, that I 
might confult and advife with you, and have your 
Directions in every Step ? and I have wonder d 
you never ask d about it before. - 

Eld. Sift. The chief Thing I want to know is, 
how you find him as to the grand Affair of-Reli- 
gion, and whether you think him a- Hypocrite, 
or no ? 

jfaint. Ay, that s what I am curious about. 

To. Sift. I am but an ill Judge of Sincerity, efpe- 
cially in a Cafe where my Inclinations, you know, 
are partial. 

Eld. Sift. Why you were the niceft Creature 
alive before. Sifter ; and yet, you know, your Af- 
fe&ions were the fame way then. 

Aunt. Ay, Niece, what can you fay to that ? 

To. Sift. Madam, my Sifter takes it quite wrong. 

Eld. Sid. How do 1 take you wrong, Sifter ? 
Did you not conclude him to be an Atheift ? 

To. Sift. But I never faid he was a Hypocrite : 
If he had been no honefter than he was politick, 
I had been effectually deceived ; for it was too 
true, as he faid, if he had talk d a little religioufly ; 
nay, if he had not openly prcfeft his Contempt of 
all Religion, he had cheated me, and I had never 
made any Obje&ion. 

Aunt. That s true , you are right, Coufin : But 
how ftands know? are all the Stories you told me 
you heard at the Bath about him true, or no ? 

To. Sift. Truly, 1 believe they are. 

Eld. Sift. Are you but at believe ftill ? I would 
have had the Bottom of them all out by this Time ; 
what have you been about all this while? 

To. Sift. 



I 7* 

To. Sift. Truly, we have fpent all the Time al- 
moil about the great Difficulty of judging whether 
he is fmcere, or a Hypocrite , and we are fcarce 
got through it yet, I affure you. 

Eld. Sift. Why then I think my Sifter is mad : 
What kind of Confeflion of Principles do you in- 
fift on pray ? I hope you don t fet up to examine 
the Heart. 

To. Sift. You run all upon Miftakes with me, 
Sifter j the Difpute lies juft the other Way - y I am 
for allowing him to be Sincere, but he will not grant 
that I have any Reafbn to do fb j he fays, that I 
ought to believe he is a Hypocrite. 

Aunt. Come, Niece, let us have the whole Story 
of it ? we (hall then know how to judge of it to 
gether. 

To. Sift. With all my Heart, Madam : You know 
he came to me laft wtefday Night, when you firft 
left us together : After fome Compliments, he re 
peated what he had faid before, that he came to ask 
my Pardon for not coming again, as he had faid 
he would : I told him, I did not expecl: him to 
come again , and if I was to believe the Opinion 
of other People, I had ufed him fb rudely, that 
it was not reafbnable to think that any Gentleman 
that was fb treated, would ever have come again, 
unlefs it was to affront me. He wonder d, he faid, 
who could pretend to fay fo ; for loe affurd me, he 
not only never faid I us d him ill, but never 
thought fb, and certainly I would not fay fb to 
any-body ; for he was perfuaded, be faid, I did nei 
ther do it on purpoie to ufe him ill, or believe it 
was ill Ufage. / told him, he did me a great deal 
of Juftice to fay, I did not ad on purpofe to af 
front him ; but that I could not but fay, I thought 
I had ufed him a little too rudely for all that ; and 
that if he thought fo too., I was very ready to take 

this 



C in 

this Opportunity to ask him Pardon, without fb 
much as naming the Neceffity I was in on other 
Accounts for doing what 1 did. 

Aunt. You were very courtly in that Particular, 
Niece , pray what did he fay to it. 

To. Sift. He told me, I had nothing to ask him 
Pardon for, and aflur d me, he had not been gone 
half an Hour from me, before he was convinc d of 
the Juftice of all I had laid, and how much Reafon 
I had to refufe him upon the Nicety which I had 
refufed him upon. He added, That he had a 
thoufand Times ilnce reproach d himfelf with the 
Folly of his own Conduct at that Time, or that 
he could think it could recommend him to any 
Woman of Vertue and Senie, to boaft of having 
no Thought or Senfe of Religion : For, Madam, 
fays he, bad you taken no Notice of it, / Jhould of 
Neceffity have concluded, in a quarter of an Hour after ^ 
that you had no Senfe of Vertue or Religion y our f elf. 
Why, what if I had n6tjfaidld I had been but the 
more fuitable to you, and you muft have lik d me 
the better for that. He return d, No, Madam, 
juft the contrary ; for tho 3 I own I had not thought 
of Religion myfelf, yet had any Woman .told me 
fb of herfelf, I fhould prefently have laid, fhe was 
no Match for a Gentleman ; for no Man can be 
fb void of Senfe, as well as of Religion, as not to 
know that a Woman of no Religion, is no Woman 
fit to make a Wife of: And this, fays he, convinc d 
me that you were in the right to refufe me on that 
Account: 

Aunt. It was a very ingenuous Acknowledgment, I 
confefs 3 the Truth of it is fo convincing, that I wifh 
all the young Women who have their Settlements 
in View, would reflecl: ferioufly on this Point, that 
however wicked Men are, they are always willing 
to have fober, religious, and vertuous Wives ; and 



tis 



f 174 1 

tis very rarely, that the worft Rake in Nature, if 
his Senfes are in Exercife, defires to have a Wife 
loofe like himfelf , but pray go on, Niece. 

To. Sift. He told me, he was not gone a quarter 
of an Hour from me, but this Reflection ftruck 
with Horror upon his Mind ; what a dreadful Crea 
ture am I ! Sure I am a horrid frightful Wretch 1 
that a Woman of Sobriety and Religion was afraid 
to venture to take me, for fear of being ruin d 3 
and that (he fhould think me declared War againft 
Heaven, and joined herfelf to one of God s Ene 
mies : He was going on, but I found his Speech 
ftopp d of a fudden , at which I was a little furpriz d, 
and ask d him if he was not well : He {aid yes, 
and endeavour 5 d to hide the little Diforder he was 
in, and went on : He then told me, that I had 
been really very juft to him, and he had Reafbn to 
thank me for it ; and that he had defired my Sifter 
to exprefs his Mind fully on that Account, which 
he hop d me had done. / told him, I could not 
now, enter upon an Apology for what I had faid to 
him fo long ago -, that if I treated him rudely, or 
feverely, I was very fbrry : but, tbat what I did was 
occafion d, as loe knew very well, upon his making 
fuch open Declarations, and fuch as I thought Joe 
really had no Qccafion for, concerning his Averfion 
to, and Ignorance of all Religion - y and that it was 
really a dreadful Thing to think of marrying on 
fuch Terms : He reply d, that if I had faid lefs than 
I did, he muft neceilarily, when he came to his Senfes, 
have had a meaner Opinion of me than he had - y and 
that it was really the Reproaches that I had given 
him, and the excellent Reafons I had given him, 
for my Refolutions of rejecting him, that had now 
brought him back to me, and had made him refolve to 
have no Woman on Earth but me, if I would but 
revoke the Kefolutions I had taken again ft him 9 for 

nothing 



[ 753 

nothing lefs than fb much Religion and Vertue could 
ever make him happy. 

Aunt. If he was fmcere in this, I allure you s 
Niece, it was a high Compliment upon Religion, 
as well as upon your Condud. 

To. Sift. I told him, that as the Reafbn I had for 
ufmg him fo, was thus approved by himfelf, he 
bound me to preferve the fame Refblution on the 
Hazard of his having a lefs Efteem for me. He 
confefsd that was very true^ unlefs he could convince 
me theCaufe was removed, which hefaw no Hopes of^ 
and that was the Reafon that he came to vifit me 
again, with Ib little Encouragement, that he knew 
not what to think of it. 

Eld. Sift. What could he mean by that ? why, 
fure, then all we have heard muft be falfe, and he is 
the fame Man as ever. 

To. Sift. I was greatly ftartled at his Words, and 
look d fteadily at him, but could judge nothing 
from his Countenance: But it grew late, and he 
took his Leave, falling into fome other curfory 
Talk, and I eft me^ I confefs, in the greateft Confufwn 
of f bought s imaginable ; for I was dreadfully afraid 
he would declare himfelf to have no Senfe of Re 
ligion on his Mind ftill ; and then I was in a worfe 
Condition than at firft, having thus admitted a 
fecond Treaty with him. 

Aunt. I thought, Child, you was a little per- 
plex d a fuefday Night , but I took it to be. only 
a little Thoughtfulnefs more than ordinary, which 
is ufual on fuch Occafions. 

To. Sift. When he came again the next Night, he 
made a kind of an Apology for having left me in 
more Difbrder than he us d to do : For to tell you 
tme^ Madam, fays he, / was not able to go on witb 
what I was faying toyou^ neither am I now, fays he^ 
feeing I am come to wait on you, and yet have ef- 

f eft u ally 



c 

f e finally Jhut the Door againft my [elf. I told him I 
did not perhaps rightly underftand him, unlefs he 
would explain himfelf: Why, fays he^ I have firft 
tol&lt;j you fincerely, how abfblutely I approve the 
Refolution you took againft me, and yet own d, 
and do /?///, that I am no way able to convince you 
that the Caufe is removed. I told him, that I 
thought he was not juft to himfelf; and that the 
fame Thing, whatever it was, that had Power to 
convince him, that I was under a Neceffity to refufe 
him on that Occafion, would certainly affift him to 
remove the Caufe. He turnd JJjort upon me^ But, 
Madam, faid he^ did I not make Conditions with 
you, that whenever I talk d of it, you fhould take 
me for a Hypocrite ? and did I not declare pofitively 
to you, that I would deceive you if I could ? 

Eld. Sift. Now I know what he meant. 

To. Sift. Ay, fo did I too ; but he run it up fo 
high againft himfelf, that I could not anfwer a 
Word, unlefs I would have turn d the Tables, as it 
were, againft my felf, and courted him, by telling 
him how well I was fatisfied of his Sincerity ; fo 
that, in fhort, 1 was quite puzzled : For what 
could I fay to a Man that did as it were bid me be 
lieve him to be a Hypocrite ? 

*Aunt. You had a ni^e Cafe before you, Coufin $ 
pray what faid you to it ? 

To. Sift. I told him very coldly, I was under a 
Neceffity of believing every Thing he faid, becaufe 
he had been fo fincere with me all along ; and I begg d 
him therefore not to tell me ferioufly now that he 
was a Hypocrite ; and that the Caufe of my re- 
fufing to talk with him before was not removed $ 
that I hop d it was otherwife, but fhould defpair of 
it, if it came from his own Mouth ; and that if I was 
affur d from his own Mouth, that he came to de 
ceive me, he muft needs know I had nothing elfe 

t* 



[ 177 



to doj but to aft as I did before, which he had 
OMvn d I had Reafon for. No, Madam, fays he&gt; 
I do not fay, I defire to deceive you ; bur, I fay, 
that having told you I would, you ought to believe 
I defign it , and I fee no room to convince you 
that I am not an Hypocrite, feeing I promised you 
I would be fo ; and I know not whether I dare tell 
you, that I am not fo, even in the beft of me. 

Eld. Sift. I could have put an end to all this 
Nicety in two Words. 

To- Sift. Then you will the more eafily tell me how 
I fliall do it. 

Eld. Sift. Why I would have told him, that tho 
I had not fo much Concern for him to bufy my felf 
to inquire after his Conduct, yet I had not fo little, 
as not to be glad to know by other Hands than his 
own, that he was no Hypocrite, and that I re- 
joic d for his Sake to hear, that his Eyes were 
open d to that which could alone make him the 
happieft Man alive. 

To. Sift. Then I mud at the fame time have told 
him, that my Scruples were all over about him ; 
which was as much as to tell him I would have him 
whenever he pleas d to take me : but I han t learnM 
that way of talking yet. 

Aunt. Well, Niece, and if you had, after fo 
long acquaintance, and fo much preffing, I do 
not think you could have charged your felf with 
being forward. 

To. Sift. Well then, you will the better like 
what has happen d fince, Madam. 

Aunt. With all my Heart ; then pray go on 
my Dear* 

To. Sift. Why, Madam, this took up the i firfl 

three or four Nights of our Difcourfe : The 

Night before laft he began a little more ferioufly, 

and came clofer to the Thing it felf: He told me, 

N he 



[ 78 ] 



he had made himfelf very melancholy with me the 
two laft Times he \vas with me ; for he thought, 
that inftead of courting me to have him, he had 
taken a great deal of Pains to court me to refufe 
him again : I told him, I thought fo too ; and that 
I confefs d I had been a little concerned about it, 
becaufe I could by no means understand him : He 
told me, it proceeded from the juft Reflection he 
made on his foolifh Difcourfe two Years ago, viz,. 
That he wtjh d he had counterfeited religious D fcourfe ; 
and that he would certainly have cheated me if he could, 
and did not doubt but he could have done it effectually* 
Thofe Words, he faid, flew in his Face, when he 
went to fay any thing ferioufly to me ; and perfua- 
ded him that I would believe he was only counter 
feiting ferious Things on purpofe to deceive me : I 
anfwer d, he might reproach himfelf with thofe 
Things, but I did not lay any Strefs on them ; for 
I believed he had too much Honefly, whether it 
proceeded from Religion or no, to offer to deceive 
me in a Thing, in which he own d fo ingenuoufly 
I was right. Then he told me, with the greateft 
Affection in his Difcourfe that ever I faw in my 
Life, that he muft confefs, as he had faid before, 
that my rejecting him, as 1 had done, had made Im- 
preffions on his Mind quite different from what he 
had before ; but that he found it the hardeft thing 
in the World to exprefs what had happen d to him 
on that Account, and the Thoughts of thofe things 
which had taken up his Mind fince that ; only this 
he would own to me, that I was in the right , that 
he had moft notorioufly expofed himfelf to me, and 
that he had perfectly the fame Opinion now of thofe 
things, which I had before, viz,. T hat a religmis Life 
was the only Heaven upon Earth ; but he could go no 
farther, he faid, nor could he anfwer for himfelf, 
how far fuch Thoughts might carry him, or ex 
prefs 



[ 79 3 

prefs to me the Particulars that had lain upon his 
Mind about them ; and how far what he had faid 
would fatisfyme, he did not know. I told him, I 
hop d he did not think I fet up for a Judge of the 
Particulars , that my Objection before lay againft 
a general Contempt of all Religion ; that k was 
my Terror to think of marrying an Enemy to God, 
one that had no Senfe of the common Duties we 
all owe to him that made us , but that I never pre 
tended to expect a Confeffion of Faith from him, 
or any Man, in fuch a Cafe : He told me, he thought 
it required more Affurance than he was Mailer of, 
to talk any thing of himfelf that way, at leaft till 
there was more Intimacy between us ,* that he 
thought religious Things (talk d of in that manner) 
received an Injury from the very Difcourfe, and 
that it was next door to boafting of them, which 
was the worft kind of Hypocrify ; and if he could 
fay no more of himfelf but this, he hop d I would 
take it for a fufficient Teflimony of the Alteration 
of his Thoughts, viz,, that he loved me for the 
Honour I paid to Religion, and for that Steadinefs 
which had made me rcfufe him before. I told him, 
I faw his Difficulty, and that I would abate him 
the trouble of entring into Particulars, which I 
found he was too modeft to relate, and which 
however I was not quite a Stranger to } and that I 
defired we might fpeak no more of a Thing which 
I knew it was difficult for him to be free in : He 
blufh d as red as Fire, when I faid I was not a 
Stranger to the Particulars, which he declined to 
exprefs, and faid not one Word for a good while. 
I told him, I knew it was a Point that could tioc 
come eafily from a Man s own Mouth , that I did 
not defire it, and would make him eafy, fo far as 
to tell him, I was fully fatisfy d he was no Hypocrite, 
and hop d he would give himfelf no more trouble 
N 2 about; 



i8o 

about if. He took me in his Arms, and told me 
very affectionately, that I had faid that of him, that 
he would give all the World to be able to fay of 
himfelf ; that however he hop d to be beholding to 
me for more than that ; and as I had given him 
the firft View of the Beauty of a religious Life, 
he expected a great deal more from my Afliftance 
and Example, in purfuing the Steps of it. I told him, 
that I begg d of him we might avoid all religious 
Compliments, for they were the oddeft things in 
Nature ; that he quite miftook me, that it was not 
becaufe I thought my felf capable of guiding in 
religious Matters, that I inlifled on the Neceility 
of not marrying a Man void of Religion, but 
from a due Senfe of juft the contrary, ?;/ &. the 
Want I /hould be in of being guided and afllfted 
in religious Things upon all Occafions my felf : 
that it would be a fatal Miftake the other way, and 
greatly to my Difadvantage, to have him expect 
more from me than he would find , and that on the 
contrary I thought I had now fo much lefs Reli 
gion than he, that he ought to refufe me now, for 
the fame Reafon that I refufed him before. 

This is the Sum of our Aftair, and thus it ftands, 
only with this Addition, that he told me a very 
pleafant Story, which happen d at a Chocolate- 
houfe near the Court, which is fo ufeful, as well as 
diverting, that I cannot but relate it to you*. 

Aunt. That Story is fit to be read for a Lefture 
of Inftru&ion to all the young Gentlemen of this 
Age. Well, Niece, you are a happy Girl. ^ 



* Here jhe tells them the Story of the fwo Beans and 
the Lord, dtfcQurJing of the Suitallenefs of a religious Life 
to ths Life of a Gentleman. 

To. Sift. 



To. Sift. Why, Madam ? 

Aunt. Only in being courted by a Gentleman of 
the greateft Sincerity, Modefty, and Piety, that 
ever I met with in my Life. 

To. 6V/?. And would you advife me, Madam, to 
have him then ? 

Aunt. Ay, Child, without any more Difficulty, 
if you defire to be the happieft Woman alive, and 
an Example and Encouragement to all the young 
Women in England,, for the rejecting profane and 
irreligious Husbands. 

Thus far, I think, contains all the ufeful Part of 
this Story, only adding, that it was not long after 
this, both the Agreement and Settlement being 
all in readinefs, the Father and all Friends aflent- 
ing, they were married, and lived afterwards the 
happieft Couple that can be imagined -, having a 
fober, regular, well-govern d Family, a moft plea- 
fant, comfortable, agreeable Converfation with 
one another ; fuitable in Temper,Defires, Delights, 
and, in a word, in every thing elfe , and, which 
made them completely happy, they were exemplary 
in Piety and Virtue to all that knew them. 

The End of the Fir ft Part. 




Rtli- 




Religious Courtjbip* 



PART II. 




E have feen the happy Conduct of the 
youngeft of the three Daughters of 
the Gentleman, whofe Family this 
Book began with, and the comfortable 
Succefs of it : The fecond Daughter 
from the Beginning afted upon other Principles, or 
rather indeed upon no Principles at all ; yet her 
Hiftory may perhaps be no lefs fruitful of Inftruc- 
tion than the other, tho fomething more tragical 
as to her own Part of it. 

She had declared to her Sifter, as appears in the 
beginning of her Story, that die would not trouble 
herfelf, when it came to her Turn, what Religion 
the Gentleman was of, or whether he had any Re 
ligion or no, if die had but a good Settlement ; 
and now we (hall fee her be as good as her word. 

N 4 Her 



[184] 



Her Father, \vhofe Character I have fufficiently 
fpoken to already, having had for many Years a 
considerable Trade into Italy, where he once liv d; 
there came an Englijh Gentleman to vidt him, who 
had formerly been Cotemporary with him, and 
long been his Correfpondent or Fador there, y/z,. 
at Leghorn ; and who being grown very rich, was 
come to England, refolving to fettle here. There 
were feme Accounts, it feems, depending be 
tween them, which they had appointed a Day to 
fettle and ballance, in order to exchange Relea- 
fes, which being all finifti d in the Morning, the 
Father of thefe Ladies takes his Factor into his 
Coach, and carries him home to Dinner with 
him, where the old Gentleman entertain d him 
very handfomly, and where he had an Oppor 
tunity to fee the two Maiden Daughters j for 
the youngeft, who h.id been marry d fome time, 
\vas gone into Hamfilire to her Country-Seat 
with her Husband. 

This Leghorn Merchant no fooner faw and con- 
vers d a little with the young Ladies, but he took 
a "Fancy to the youngeft, and from that time re- 
folv d to make her his Wife. It was not long be 
fore he let them know his Mind, and having made 
ver\ handfom Propofals to her Father, he (the Fa 
ther) received him with a Franknefs fuitable to their 
long Intimacy and Acquaintance, and told him, 
with all his Heart, if his Daughter and he could 
agree. 

Before I bring them together, it is proper to 
the Relifh of the Story, to take a little Notice 
of the Characters of the two young Perfons, of 
whofe Story we ought to have a general Idea, 
that we may not be left to gather it up flowly 
among the Particulars. 

The 



C 



The young Lady was vey fober, virtuous to 
the niceft Degree, extremely well-bred, and won 
derfully good-humour d ; (he was likewife a very 
lovely, beautiful Perfon, the handfomeft of the 
three Sifters, beyond all Comparifon : As to Reli 
gion, (he had a very good Foundation of Know 
ledge, and had done nothing to make it be fup- 
pofed (he was not truly religious in Practice j but 
(he was not altogether fo grave and ferious as her 
elder Sifter ; much lefs was fhe fo devout and ftricl: 
as her younger Sifter that was married, as might 
be obferv d from what pafs d between them at nVft : 
Her Temper was fprightly and gay, and tho (he 
governed her felt fo, that fhe gave every. one room 
to fee, that (he was one* that had a true Senfe of 
Religion at Bottom, and a Fund of good Principles 
and good Notions in her Mind, yet (he was young 
and merry, and did not tye herfelf up fo feverely 
in fuch Things as her Sifters had done ; which, tho 
it was no Part of her Happinefs in the Affair before 
her, yet it rendered her very agreeable to her Fa 
ther ; and particularly, it made the Affair with this 
Gentleman much eafier to her Father, and he had 
much lefs Trouble with her, than he had had with 
her two Sifters. 

The Gentleman was, as I have obferv d, an 
Italian Merchant, a very handfome, agreeable Per 
fon, perfectly well-bred, having liv d abroad, and 
feen a great deal of the World : He was alfo a Man 
of excellent Parts and Senfe, talk d admirably well 
almoft to every Thing that came in his Way, fpoke 
feveral Languages ; and in (hort, was not a com 
plete bred Merchant only, but much of a Gentle 
man ; and to all this was to be added, that he was 
very fober, grave, and oftentimes, as occafion of- 
fer d, his Difcourfe upon religious Affairs difcover d 
him to be very ferious and religious : As to his 

Eftate, 



Eftate, it was not very well only, but extraordi 
nary ; he was indeed a little too old, having liv d 
abroad about 22 Years, and was about fo much a- 
bove twenty, which was the Age of the Lady : 
However, as this was an Advantage in many other 
Ways, as in his Judgment and Experience in the 
World, the Father made no Scruple at all of it, nor 
did his Daughter inquire much after it. 

In a word, having been introduced to the young 
Lady, fhe muft have been a Woman of much more 
Nicety and Scruple than fhe profefs d herfelf to be, 
if fhe had diflik d any thing in his Perfon or Cir- 
cumftances; and therefore having kept her Com 
pany for fome Weeks, Things began to draw to 
wards a Clcfe, when one Evening after the Gentle 
man had been with her, and was gone away, her 
eldeft Sifter and /he happened to meet ; and the 
following Dialogue between them may farther ex 
plain the Cafe. 




DI A- 



C 87] 



DIALOGUE I. 




EM. ELL, Sifter, how do you go 

on ? When are we to go and 
buy Wedding-Clothes ? 
Sift. Nay, I don t know; 
e en when you will, I think; 
I don t know what we ftay for, not I. 

Eld. Sift. Prithee let s have done with it then ; 
I want to call him Brother ; then I can talk freely 
to him. 

Sift. Why you may call him Brother now, can t 
you ? you fee he calls you Sifter already, as natu 
rally as if you were all of a Breed. 

Eld. Sift. Ay, fo did fome body elfe, you know ; 
and yet made a two years piece of Work of it af 
terward for all that *. 

Sift. Yes, yes, I remember it; but I ll aflure 
you I am none of thofe ; I ll either make an End 
of it one way, or make an End of it another way, 
in lefs than fo many Months. 

Eld. Sift. Perhaps your Objections are not fo juft 
as hers. 

Sift. I don t enter into her Scruples, I affure 
you. 



* She means the Gentleman that courted the Third 
Sifter. 

Eld. 



[ 88 ] 



EM. Sift. I hope you have not her Occafion. 
Sift. Nay, I don t know what Occafion (he had 
not I. 

Eld. Sill. Nay, hold, Sifter; don t fay fo nei-* 
ther,* without doubt her Occafion was very juft ; 
and you have the fame Obligation upon you, but 
I hope you have not the fame Occafion. 

Sift. I know not what you mean by Obligation ; 

. I have no Obligation at all upon me, as I know of. 

Eld. Sift. Why do you fay fo, Sifter ? 1 mean the 

Obligation, which is upon us: all from the Charge 

my Mother gave us upon her Death-bed, about our 

marrying religious Husbands. 

Sift. I look upon what my Mother faid to be 
good Counfel, which we fhouldgive its due Weight 
to ; but I do not take it to be a Command that 
binds me abfolutely in Duty to my Mother s Word : 
Duty certainly ends when Death feparates- 

Eld. Sift. I know not whether it does, or no, 
Sifter. 

-Sift. I think you are too fuperftitipus that way, 
Sifter. 

Eld, Si ft. Well, but fuppofe it to be but as Ad- 
vice /yet it has a double Force with it : .Firft, as it 
came from a tender, dear and -. tnoft affectionate 
Mother, who not only moft paifionately lov d us, 
but had an excellent Judgment.tD dired: her to give 
us the beft Counfel: And, Secondly^ as our own 
judgment and Confciences muft teftify with her, 
that" ivhat fhe injoyn d us to obferve, is the moft 
reafonable neceflary Thing for us to do that can be 
invagki d for our own Advantage, and as wel&gt; for 
our Happinefs here as hereafter. 

Stft. You lay a greater Strefs upon it than I do/ 
I confefs : If my Mother "had" been alive indeed, 1 
fhoutd have thought my felf obliged to be guided 
by her Diredions, and her Injundions would have 

been 



[ 89] 



been pofitive Commands ; but then fhe would have 
been able to judge of particular Circumftances, and 
would have given her Advice accordingly. 

Eld. Sift. But her Advice to us was therefore 
fluted to her prefent State of Abfence, and went 
no farther than to a Cafe defcribed by its own Cir 
cumftances, and which nothing can alter; becaufe 
the Obligation fuppofes the Circumftance, and 
where the Circumftance is not, the Obligation 
ceafes. 

Sift. You talk fo learnedly, I want an Explana 
tion. 

Eld. Sift. No, Sifter, you don t want an Expla 
nation I am fure j but you are difpofed to lay it all 
afide, as a Thing you have no need of \ however, 
I ll explain my felf in a Word fpeaking : Our Mo 
ther warn d us againft marrying Men of no Reli 
gion, that is y Men that made no Profeflion of a 
Reverence to God and his Worfliip ; this Want of 
a religious Prcfeffion is the Circumftance which I 
fpeak of,- if the Circumftance does not appear, 
the Advice ceafes ; for our Mother knew we could 
not judge of Sincerity. 

Sift. Well ; fo then if a Man tells me he is re 
ligious it s well enough, whether he fpeaks Truth 
or no. 

Eld. S ft. What need we talk of this ; I hope 
you have an Aflurance. of the contrary in Mr. 

Sift. No, not I, indeed ; what Aflurance can I 
have ? He feems to be a fober Man, that s all I 
know of it. 

Eld. Sift. Weil, and I would know more of it 
however, if I were you. 

Sift* Why I do know fomething more of it too, 
now I think of it ; for we were talking of fucli 
Things one Night, when we happened to mention 

Sir Robert , and he fpoke of him with a great 

deal 



deal of Indignation , he faid he was a horrid athe- 
iftical Wretch, and that he could not bear his 
Company ; for he was always making a Jeft of 
facred Things, bantering all Religion in fuch a 
Manner, that no fober Mind could abide it with 
out Horror. 

Eld. Sift. Well, there is fomething in that, I 
allure you. 

Sift. Why I take it for a plain Declaration, that 
he has a juft Reverence for Religion, as my Sifter 
took the contrary in her Lover for a Declaration of 
his having no Religion at all. 

Eld. Sift. Nay, he told her he had not, in fo ma 
ny Words, and that he had not troubled his Head 
about it, and did not intend to do it. 

Sift- Well then, and this Gentleman has told me 
he has ; for he owns he has fo much Regard for 
Religion, that he cannot hear it ridicuTd and ban- 
ter d without Horror. 

Eld. Sift. That is fomething, I confefs, in gene 
ral : But 

Sift. But what &gt; What would you have me do ? 
Muft I examine his Principles and Opinions ? Shall 
I ask him to fay his Catechifm ? If I ftiould talk on 
that Fafhion to him now, what kind of a cateche 
tical Wife will he think I (hall make &gt; he ll think I 
fhall be a School-miftrefs rather than a Wife. 

Eld. Sift- No, no ; tho you are fo pert with your 
Sifter, Forfooth, you need not be fo with him, I 
hope, nor need I tell you how to manage fuch a 
Point ; but I warrant you I would find it out, w hat 
his Opinion was, one way or another , why he 
may be a Papift for ought you know yet of him ; 
feme of them are very religious in their way, and 
fpeak very reverently and ferioufly of Religion in 
general* 

Sift. 



Sift. Let him be a Papift and he will, I am Cure 
I can never ask him fuch a Queftion ; but how 
ever I am pretty well fatisfied of that too } for I 
heard him fay once, he had been at Church ; and 
another time, accidentally fpeaking about Reli 
gion, he declared he was a Member of the Church 
of England, as by Law eftablifh d. 

Eld* Sift. Well, you are an eafy Lady, a little 
Matter fatisfies you ; I (hould prefently have faid, 
I hope, Sir, you mean the Proteftant Church of 
England ; Why, you do not imagine, the Roman 
Catholicks think the Popifh Church is the only 
Church of England that is eftablifh d by Law ? 

Sift. Sure, Sifter, you take all the World to be 
Hypocrites and Cheats ; I never can fufpedt any 
Gentleman, that bears the Character of an honeft 
Man, would fet up to impofe upon me with fuch 
equivocal Speeches ; why I never heard fuch a vile 
Diftindion in my Life. 

Eld- Sift. Have you not ? why then I have : I 
have heard, that in King Charles the Second s Time, 
People in general were deluded with that very Ex- 
prefllon in all their publick Speeches, Proclamati 
ons, Declarations, &c. promifing always to pre- 
ferve and maintain the Church of England as efta 
blifh d by Law, and that yet all that while they 
meant the Popiih Church. 

Sift. Thefe are remote Things, Sifter; for my 
Part, I have no Miftruft j I am honeft my felf, 
and I fufped no body. 

Eld. Sift. It is a thing of Moment, Sifter j I 
would be fure. 

Sift. Not I ; I have no room to fufped. 

Eld. Sift. Then you do not anfwer the Obliga 
tion vou were under to my Mother s Defire. 

Sift. Yes I do ; for I think I have good Reafon 
to believe him a very ferious religious Gentleman. 

Eld. 



Eld. Sift. But you know my Mother engaged us 
to examine Particulars, and not to marry any Man, 
how religious foever he fe emed alfo, unlefs he was 
of the fame Opinion in Religion with ourfelves. 

Sift. In that I think my Mother went too far, 
Sifter. 

Eld. Sift. My Mother gave us a great many Ex 
amples of the Mifery that has followed in the rela 
tion of Husband and Wife, by reafon only of Dif 
ferences in Opinion. 

Sift. It muft be then where there was but little 
Religion on either Side. 

Eld. Sift. I do not know that neither ; you and 
I know fome Families, more than one or two, 
where they are all at Daggers draw about Opinion, 
and the Families are ruin d as to their Peace, and 
yet both are very religious too, nay zealous in their 
Way ; and the more the Zeal, the more the Strife. 

Sift, There may be Zeal, but there is no Cha 
nty then ; and what s any Religion without Cha 
rity ? 

Eld. Sift. Well, but becaufe Charity does not al 
ways keep pace with Religion, and every one is 
apt to think themfelves in the right, and to reproach 
the Sincerity of thofe that differ from them; there 
fore our Mother earneftly prefs d us to make that 
Point fure, before we fixt out Choice for our 
Lives. 

Sift. It is a fine Thing to talk of, but hard to be 
followed i what have I to do with his Opinion? 
and what can I fay to him, if he tells me he is of 
one Opinion, and fliould be of another ? you, nor 
no young Body alive, can prevent being imposed 
upon, if a Man finds it for his Purpofe to deceive 
us. 

Eld. 



C 



r Eld. Sift. Well, Sifter,, you trample upon all 
Caution ; you are one of them that feem perfectly 
indifferent whether you are deceived or no. 

Sift. No, Sifter, I am not willing to be deceived 
youlfee ; I have had a general Difcovery of his 
being a "Man religioufly inclined, that has a Re 
verence for the Worftiip of God, and the Being 
of God j nay, you cannot but remember how the 
Other Night at Supper he difcours d very gravely, 
and I afliire you, to me it was very agreeably, a- 
bout the Men of the Town firft pretending to 
be Atheifts, and to deny the Being of a God, and 
the next Minute profanely fw fearing by his 
Name. 

Eld. Sift. All this is true, and clears you from 
the firft Scruple ; fo far I may grant you are with 
in my Mother s firft Injunction, net to" marry a 
Man that does not profefs to be religious in gene 
ral j but that is but one Part : What fay you to the 
other, Not to marry any Man, however profefllng 
himfelf to be religious, that is not of the fame 
Opinion with your felf ? 

Sift. You will carry every thing up to the Ex 
tremity ; but however I have a way for that too ; 
and you (hall not charge me with flighting my 
Mother s Advice. 

Eld. Sift. What Way have you got ? I doubt tis 
but an odd one. 

Sift. Why, if he will not be of my Opinion, I ll 
be of his Opinion, and fo we will agree one way, 
if we can t t other. 

Eld. Sift- That s boldly faid, and I muft own to 
you, fignifies you are yet to choofe in your owri 
Opinion : Pray what if he fhould be a Roman Ca- 
tholick, as I hinted before; you know he has livM 
m Italy* 

O Sift, 



[ 94- 1 

Sift. Well, if hefliould be a Chriftian Catholick, 
I am a Catholick Chriftian, fo we need not fall 
out for all that. 

Eld. Sift. I perfuade my felf you are not fo in 
different as you make your felf, or elfe (which I 
hope rather) you are jetting with me, or you talk 
thus upon a Supposition, that you are fure he is a 
Proteftant. 

Sift. Well you are in the right there too ; I can 
not entertain fuch Thoughts of him ; befides my 
Father told me he was a Proteftant. 

Eld. S/ft. It is our Misfortune, Sifter, that my 
Father does not much concern himfelf about thofe 
Things , he leaves us to our Fate. 

Sift. And is that our Misfortune, fay you ? I do 
not fee it, I confefs ; for I think tis our Bufinefs to 
choofe for our felves ; and I obferve where Fathers 
are fo very ftrait-lac d, and confine their Children 
to fuch and fuch Particulars in the Husbands or 
Wives they fhall choofe, their Children generally 
choofe without much Regard to thofe Injunctions, 
or elfe fly directly in the Face of them, and go 
quite contrary. 

Eld. Sift. You argue, Sifter, from the Practice 
to the Duty, as if becaufe Children do not regard 
the Care and Concern of their Parents in their 
Marriages, therefore they ought to do fo ; and 
that it was not the Duty of Parents to direct them, 
or to concern themfelves about it. 

Sift. I do not inquire what is the Duty of Pa 
rents ; I am fpeaking of what is the Practice of 
Children. 

Eld. Sift. But you do not juftify that Practice, I 
hope. 

Sift. I think, take one time with another, Children 
do as well, when they truft to their own Directi 
ons, I mean when they choofe with Judgment : 

Pray 



[ 95 ] 

Pray what would become of us, if we werejuft to 
follow our Father s Direction ? you know he would 
direct us to take the firft chat comes, if he lik d but 
the Settlement. 

Eld. Sift. That is a wrong way of arguing, Sifter, 
that becaufe our Father neglects it, therefore Chil 
dren are not the better for fuch Parents as do their 
Duty, and that fhew a jutt Concern for the religi 
ous Happinefs of their Children, in fettling them 
in the World. 

Sift. I do not fee much Difference, I fay, but 
fometimes one do as well as the other. 

Eld. Sift. Yes, there is this Difference, Sifter, 
that where the Parents act right, the Children are 
feldom ruin d, unlefs it be by their own wilful 
Obftinacy. 

Sift. And fometimes Children are ruin d, let the 
Parents do their beft , nay, fometimes the Parents 
themfelves know not what to dired. 

Eld Sift. You may as well fay, that becaufe 
Doctors die no body fliould take Phyfick. 

5/7?. Every one has Eyes to choofe for themfelves ; 
I don t think the Proverb has any Weight in this 
Cafe, that Love is blind ; Folks may eafily fee the 
Difference between a religious Man and an Atheift 
without their Parents. 

Eld. Sift. But it is a Matter of fuch Weight, and 
fo irrecoverable when done, that we ought to fee 
with as many Eyes as we can ; and a careful reli 
gious Parent is a good Scout to look out for us, a 
good Pilot to fleer us, and a good Counfeller to 
advife us. 

Sift. I don t fee the Want of it, perhaps, fo much 
as you do , I fee fometimes the very Miftake of the 
Parent is the Caufe of the Ruin of the Children. 

O % Ell. 



[ 



Eld. Sift. I muft confefs I do fee the Want of 
and I think it is a fad thing to be left fo as we 
without the Guide of our Parents, for all that ; 
and if we in particular fhould be ruin d by it, our 
Father would have fmall Satisfaction- in his Owri 
Condud: : Tis fuch Management makes Children 
flight their Father s Directions as they do. 

Sift. Well, our Father does kind Things for us 
another way however. 

Eld. Sift. I don t defire to reflect upon my Father ; 
but if his Care was as much employ d in choofing 
religious Husbands for us (fince he will have us 
marry J as it is in getting Portions for us, we fhould 
find the Advantage of it much more to his future 
Satisfaction and our own. 

Sift. We muft take the more Care of it our 
felves. 

Eld. Sift. Why that is the Point I am upon , I 
\vifh you would do fo then, Sifter ; for it is your 
Cafe that I am upon. 

Sift. I have done it, I think ; I fee no room to 
objed. 

Eld. Sift. I can fay no more, Sifter , you are re- 
folv d, I fee, and muft go on ; but you wjll buy 
your Experience at a terrible Price ; and if upon 
the Trial you fhould be miftaken, you will think 
of this Difcourfe hereafter. 

Sift. What would you have me do ? 
Eld. Sift. Do ! I would enter into a ferious Dif 
courfe of religious Matters with him ; I would 
know how we were to live together, whether as 
Heathens, or as Chriftians ,- I would find out his 
Principles, if he has any, or find out that he has 
none : This is not catechifing him, nor is there ariy 
thing indecent in it : You are not afham d to in 
quire into his Eftate, and make Provision for your 
(elf cut of it by a good Jointure ; and will you be 

aflum d 



[ 197] 



afham d to inquire afcer that, which is of ten thou- 
fand times the Confequence ! Sure you can never 
go on hoodwinkt at all Hazards thus in that Part 
that is for the Happinefs of your Life, Soul and 
Body 7 befides, had you not our Sifter s Example 
before you ? 

Sift. Why, I tell you, it is clear to me, that he 
is a Man that has a Senfe of Religion upon his 
Mind ; I gave you an InfUnce of it in his Detefta- 
tion of Sir Robert and his Practices : If my Sifter 
could have had but fo much Satisfaction as that, fhe 
yvould never have refus d my Brother 

Eld. Sift. You wrong my Sifter, I aflure you ; 
fhe did not come fo far indeed, becatife fhe came 
to a clear Difcovery that he had no Religion at all, 
which was the firft Point ; but I can afllire you, if 
fhe had got over that Poinr, fhe would have en- 
quir d farther ; for tis a poor Satisfa&ion ihat is 
founded upon Negative Religion only. 

Sift. If we expect to fearch into Pofitives, as the 
World goes now, I think we put a Hardfhip upon 
our felves that we are not oblig d to. 

Eld. Sift. But certainly it is pur Bufinefs to do it, 
if we exped to live happily ; for there are a great 
many Men now-a-days that are not Atheifts, and 
that abhor bantering of Religion, or making a jeft 
of facred Things ; and yet have nothing at ail iqi 
them that is fit to be call d Religion. 

Sift. Well, I am not to examine the infide ; a 
fmall deal of Hypocrify will conceal the Heart ^ 
if he be not a religious Man, the worft will be his 
own, I cannot find it out. 

Eld. Sift. Dear Sifter, I fhould not fay fo much, 
but that methinks you do not attempt to find it 
out ; you do not inquire after it; I do not find you 
haye exchang d fix Words upon the Subject. 

O 3 



c 



Siff. Why I tell you what he faid about Sir Ro 
bert gave me a good Impreflion of him. 

Eld Sift. O Sifter ! you are Toon fatisfied , you 
would not be fo eafy in the matter of hisEftate , 
it feems you will truft your Soul upon lighter Se 
curity than you will your Portion.- 

Sift. How do you mean ? 

Eld. Sift. Why, Sifter, you won t take it upon 
-his Word that he has an Eilate, or that you /hall 
be provided for j but you muft have his Eftate ap 
pear, your Part be fettled, and the Land bound to 
you ; it is not enough for him to fay, I have fuch 
and fach a Revenue by the Year, and you fhall 
have fuch a Part of it if I die before you ; but you 
will have it under Hand and Seal, fo that he fhall 
not be able to go back. 

Sift.. Well, and fhould I not do fo ? 

Eld. Sift. Yes, yes ; but I allude only to it, and 
obferve how left anxious you are, how much eafier 
fatisfied, how fooner fecure, about the main Arti 
cle that confh tutes the Happinefs of your Life, and 
of your Family, if ever you have one, than about 
your Eftate. 

Sift- You run this Matter up to a ftrange height, 
Sifter, as if all my Felicity confided in this one 
Queftion, Whether my Husband be a religious Man 
or no ? nay, as if it confided in his being of the 
fame Opinion in Religion as I am of: as if I could 
not be religious, the my Husband was not fo ; or, 
in a word, as if I could not go to Heaven with 
out mv Husband. 

Eld. Sift. No, Sifter, it is you that run it too high : 
I do not fay you cannot go to Heaven without 
your Husband ; or you cannot be religious without 
your Husband, but I do fay you cannot go com 
fortably thro the Journey thither without him, or 
he without you : A Woman is to be a Help-meet, 

and 



c 



and a Man is to be the fame ; now a Husband will 
be a forty Help to a Wife, if he is not a Help in 
the religious Part of her Life ; and a forry Help 
indeed in the religious Part, if he has no Senfe of 
it himfelf.. 

//?. Bat I tell you he has a Senfe of it, and an 
Affection to it. 

Eld. Sift. Well, but it will hold in the other Part 
of che Queftion too * Suppofe he has, yet if his 
Senfe of Religion is not the fame with, or agree 
able to your Senfe of it ; if he thinks you are go 
ing the wrong Way, and you think he is going the 
wrong Way, one pulls this Way, and the other 
pulls that Way, in Religion , what will this come 
to in the Family, Sifter ? Have you confider d 
that ? 

Sift. Yes, yes, I have confider d it very well. 
Eld. Si&. I doubt not, Sifter ; I doubt you have 
only confider d of it fo as to refolve not to confider 
of it. 

Sift. I have confider d it fo far, as to fee that I 
can do nothing in it any farther , I cannot enter 
into a Debate about Principles ; tell him what ray 
Opinion is, and ask him what his Opinion is, and 
try beforehand whether they agree or no j I tell 
you I don t think tis my Bufinefs, any more than 
the talking to him of our Settlement &gt; that s the 
Father s Part to do -, fure my Father won t bring a 
Heathen to me! 

Eld* Sip. It is true, and that is our Mifery, that, 
as I faid before, we have not a Father to concern 
himfelf in that Part for us ; but I do not think it is 
fuch an improper Thing for you to do : Sure I 
could fome way or other bring it in, that I would 
make fome Guefs at him ; why you have never 
offer d at it in the leaft, neither has he (hewn you 
any thing of it ; I do not fo much as find that he 
O 4 has 



20 

has ever gone to Church with us, fmce he has ap- 
pear d here fo ptiblickly. 

Sift. Why no, that s true , and I wonder d he 
did not indeed, efpecially lafl Sunday, when he 
din d with us , but he made an Excufe that I 
thought was fufficient. 

Eld. Sift. Well, and would not I have laugh d at 
him at Night, and ask d him if ever he us d to go 
to Church ? or whether he went to Church that 
Sunday or no ? 

Sift. Why fo 1 did ; and he told me he was o- 
bliged to go that Day to wait upon the Marquis 
de Montekon y the Spanijh Embaflador. 

Eld. Siff: The Sfanijh EmbafTador ! why then he 
was obliged to go to the Popifh Chapel with him 
.too ; for the Embaffador never fails at that time o 
Day ; Til lay a hundred Poqnd he went to Mafs 
with him : there s a Clue for you, find out that 
now, and your Bufinefs is done. 

Sift. Dear Sifter, you are ftrangely poffefs d with 
Mr.- ~ s being a Papift , have you any particular 
Notion of it ? you perfectly fright me about it. 

Eld. Sift. No indeed, I muft confefs I have not 
the leaft Ground for it ^ I won t do him fo much 
Injuftice : but if I were in your Cafe, I would be 
fatisfy d about it ; I would ask him down-right in 
fo iP-.ny Words. 

Sift. I would riot ask him fuch a Queflion for an 
hundred Pound. 

Eldl Sift. And I would not marry him without 
asking him, for ten thoufand. 

Sift- Why if I tfiould, and he were really a Pa 
pift, do you think he would be fuch a Fool to tell 
me ? 

Eld. Sift. Perhaps he may be fo honeft as not to 
deny what he is not afham d of ? 



C 201 ] 



Sift- I fliould hate him the Moment he confefs 4 
Jt, not for being a Papift, but for fhewing he had 
fo little Concern for me, as to venture to own it. 

Eld. Sift. So that you think he ought rather tq 
deny his Religion, and difown his Principles, than 
venture your Difpleafure ? 

Sift. I fliould think he was very indifferent, whe 
ther I was difpleafed or no, or that he prefumed 
upon my being fo engaged to him, that I could no 
go oft , either of which I fhould take for an unfuf- 
ferable Infolence. 

Eld. Sift. So you would have him conceal his 
Principles, and difcover them when you could not 
help your felf; pray which would be the greater 
Infult ? 

Sift. You flrive to pufh me into a Streight, but 
I have a Medium again that delivers me from the 
Neceffity on either fide, and that is to fnake off the 
Sufpkion } and feeing you have no real Ground for 
it, I cannot fee why I fhould terrify my felf with 
a meer Jealoufy. 

Eld- Sift. I own I have no Ground to fuppofe 
him a Papift ; but I would never marry any Man 
in the World, without knowing what his Principles 
are ; tis no Satisfaction to me to fay he is not an 
Atheift, he is not a profane Defpifer of Religion : 
Negatives are a poor Foundation, Sifter, to go up 
on in a Cafe of fuch Confequence ; if he is of any 
Religion, he (hpuld tell it me, or I would have no 
thing to fay to him. 

Sift* Why I told you, he faid in particular, that 
he was of the Church of England, as by Law efta- 
blifh d. 

Eld. Sift. Why firft, Dear Sifter, I told you that s 
nothing but what any Papift may fay, even with 
out a Difpenfation ; but however it feems he did 
not fay that, but in way of Difcourfe to other 

People j 



[ 202 ] 

People ; he did not fay fo ferioufly, in Anfwer to 
any Inquiry of yours, or to give you Satisfaction. 

Sift* No, that s true ; I have not.defired any Sa 
tisfaction of him ; for I take thofe Cafual Occafi- 
onal Difcoveries of himfelf to have more of Na 
ture in them, and to be lefs liable to Sufpicion, 
than a formal ftudied Anfwer to a jealous or doubt 
ing Queflioni and I have many Reafons for my 
Opinion too. 

Eld. Sift. Why that may be true ; but I cannot 
think that fucli occasional curfory Speeches can 
have folid Foundation enough to fatisfy you in a 
thing of fuch Moment ; and I think I have the 
Teflimony of the Fathers of our Reformation on 
my Side, who, without doubt, faw in it the great 
Weight that lies on this Part, y/z,. Of the Advan 
tage and Neceffky that there is, that Husband and 
Wife fhould be of the fame Opinion in Religion 
one with another; when they appointed with the 
Office of Matrimony, that the Communion be gi 
ven to the marry d Couple at every Wedding ; that 
it might appear, not only that they both made a 
Profefhon of*the Chriftian Religion, but that they 
both agreed in the Profeflion of the fame Princi 
ples, and joyn d together in the f;Jne Communion 
with the Reformed Proteftant Churches, and with 
one another ; and I think this is enough to convince 
you of the Juftice of our Mother s Injunctions^ 
that we fhould not marry any Man, how religious 
foever he was, unlefs he was of the fame Opinion 
in Religion with our felves , or, as I obferv d a- 
bove, that, as was the Cuftom, the Man and the 
Wife might communicate together. 

S&gt;ft. I take that to be done principally to prevent 
Proteftants marrying with Papifts, and to difcover 
the Fraud, if there was any j you fee that Pradice 
is left off now. 

Eld. 



20 3 

Eld. Sift. I know it is left oft, fince other and lef- 
fer differences among Proteftants have made mu 
tual Communion more difficult ; but I think the 
Reafon of the Thing remains, viz,. That every 
Couple fiiould know what Communion they are 
of, and fhould be always, if poffible, (iric.ere and 
without Conflraint, of the fame Communion with 
one another. 

Sift. I rather think tis left off becaufe it is not 
thought to be of fo much Moment, as they thought 
it of then. 

Eld. Sift. That is then, becaufe Religion it felf 
is lefs in Fafhion than it us d to be, which indeed 
is too true ; alfo Marriages are now wholly taken 
up with Mirth and gay Things, but in thofe Days 
Matrimony feems to have been underftood, as it 
really is in it felf y a folemn and ferions Thing ; not 
to be ventured on rafhly, conlider d of (lightly, or 
performed with Levity and Loofenefs ,- tis a Tranf- 
adion of the greateft Weight, attended with Cir- 
cumftances of the greateft Importance, and Con- 
fequences of the utmoft Concern to our Welfare 
or Mifery : The Happinefs of Life, the Profperity 
of Families, and indeed the Intereft of the Soul is 
exceedingly dependent upon the good or bad Con- 
duel: of both Parties in this great Affair , and to 
run headlong upon it, is rightly compar d to a 
Horfe rufhing into the Battel, and argues a mife- 
rable Thoughtleflhefs of what is before us. 

Sift* Dear Sifter, you terrify me with talking 
thus : What is it you would have me do ? 

Eld. Sift. I would have you take fome Meafures, 
fuch as Opportunity will not fail (in your Conver- 
fation with this Gentleman) to prefent you with, 
that you may know not only negatively ^ that he is 
no Hater and Defpifer of God and Religion, but 
fojitwely what his Principles in Religion are ,- you 
2 may 



[204 3 

may go as far farther as you fee room for it, but 
lefs than this you can never be fatisfied with , and 
can never anfwer it to God, to your felf, to your 
Mother s dying Injunctions, nor to your Children, 
if you fhouid have any, to venture upon marrying 
him without it. 

Sift. If Mr. - heard your Difcourfe, he 
would think you very much his Enemy. 

Eld. Sift. If he was in his Senfes, he would think 
me very much his Friend. 

Sift. No, no, quite the contrary, I affure you. 

Eld. Sift. Pray, My Dear^ let me ask you one 
Queftion ; for I mufl own to you this is one of my 
great Sufpicions has he inquir d nothing after your 
Religion, the Profeflion you make, or the Opi 
nion you are of? Has heask d you no Queflion a- 
bout it neither ? 

Sift. No, not a Word, he knows better ; he knows 
I fhouid give him but a fhort Anfwer, if he fhouid 
ask me any thing about my Religion ; what do you 
think I ll be catechiz d already ? No, no j it is not 
come to that neither. 

Eld. Sift. This is one of the ftrongefl Grounds 
of Sufpicion to me, and afl ures me that he has very 
little Regard to Religion in general ; that he can 
pretend to marry you, and know nothing whether 
you are a Heathen or a Chriftian ; an Atheift or a 
religious Perfon, a Papift or a Proteftant ; the Man 
can have no great Value for Religion, that is fo 
little ccncern d whether his Wife have any, or no ; 
for I take the Thing to weigh as much on one fide 
as on the other, where there is any ferious Confi- 
deration at bottom. 

Sift. Indeed we have had noDifcourfe about it. 

Eld* Sift. It feems you are pretty well agreed ; 
is to fay^ that neither of you trouble your Heads 

about 



] 



about it : I moft confefs, I think it will be a dread 
ful Match. 

Sift. Why fo ? I tell you I have a Way to pre 
vent all the Mifchief you fear, and that is, as I 
told you before, I am refolved we will agree ; for 
if he is not of my Opinion, I will be of his Opi 
nion, and fo we will never have any Strife. 

Eld. Sift. But fuppofe you cannot do this ; for I 
take all that for loofe Talk: For Example, fuppofe 
he fhould be a Papifl. 

Sift. I won t fo much as fuppofe fuch a Thing ; I 
wonder you can fuggeft it of him. 

Eld. Sift. You feem to be very much in the Faflii- 
on of our City Ladies, Sifter ,- I am forry for it. 

Sift. What Fafhion s that, Sifter ? 

Eld. Sift. Why of referving their Choice of Prin 
ciples, till they fee what Principles their Husbands 
(hall be of. 

Sift And is it not a very obliging Cuftom, Sifter, 1 
in the young Ladies ? I think the Gentlemen ow r e 
them a great deal for fo much Complaifance. 

Eld. Sift. There feems to be fomething of Fore- 
caft in it I confefs, viz,, that they may be in a Po- 
fture to take any thing that offers j but there is 
nothing of ferious Religion in it. 

Sift. Well, there is a great deal of good Humour 
in it ; and it takes oft the Occafions of religious 
Difputes afterward, which I take to be the worfl 
kind of Family Breaches. 

Eld. Sift. But is not a Concurrence of Principles 
before-hand a much better Way, efpicially confi- 
dering that the Inquiry is made during a State of 
Diftance, and while there is a Power of prevent 
ing the Mifchiefs of being unequally yok d ? 

Sift. Well, I am perfuaded there never w r as fuch 
a Thing done, except by my ft iff formal Sifter : 
Did ever a young Gentleman, when he came to 

court 



[ 206 ] 

court his Miftrefs, examine her, to know her Prin 
ciples, and ask her what Religion fhe was of? Or 
did ever young Lady, when (he was courted by 
any Gentleman, fet up to catechize him upon the 
Articles of his Creed, except, at 1 fay^ my furly 
Siller ? 

Eld* Sift. Let me anfwer that Queftion with a 
Queflion, Sifter; Did ever a young Lady, that had 
any Regard to Religion, and the future Happinefs 
of her Life, fuffer herfelf to be courted two Months 
by a ftrange Perfon coming out of Italy, from the 
very Bowels of Superftition, and the very King 
dom of Popery, and go on with him even to draw 
ing of Writings, and never know what Religion 
he was of, or whether he had any Religion, or no ; 
except that fhe had heard by Accident that he was 
not an Atheift ? 

Sift. Well, I muft take him for better and for uuorfe, 
you know ; I ll make the beft of him I can. 

Eld, Sift. I am very forry that I can t prevail 
with you to prevent your own Misfortunes, when 
it is fo eafy to be done. 

Sift. You propofe what I cannot fo much as 
mention to him ; I tell you it would be the rudeft 
Thing j I m fure, if he (hould do fo to me, I Ihould 
fpit in his Face, and bid him go and look for one 
that was religious enough for him ; fure never any 
fuch Thing was done in the World ! 

Eld* S/ft. I wonder you can talk fo, Sifter ! Do 

you not remember the Paflages about Mr. , 

when he courted my Coufin * ? Did he not 
enter into a moft ferious pretty Difcourfe with her 
about Religion, when we were all at Table with 
them ? and don c you remember we all faid, ay, 
andyvu too, Sifter, when you heard it, That he did 
it with fo much Modefty, and fo handfomely, that 
nothing could be more becoming? and did not 

you, 



C 



yon, as well as /, call her a thoufand Fools for pre 
tending to be difgufted at it. 

Sift. But (he took ill his publick Manner of doing 
it, which I think was wrong too. 

Eld. Sft. But I find you don t know, or don t re 
member the reft of the Story } the expofed herfelf 
to the laft Degree by refenting it: The Cafe was 
this, The Gentleman had courted her fome Weeks, 
and lik d her, nay Icv d her, very well ; but was 
greatly perplexed to find out what Tafte of Reli 
gion his Miftrefs had ; he was loath to fall Point- 
Blank upon her with the Queftion, juft as you fay 
in your Cafe, yet he was not willing to be fatisfy d 
\vith a fecond-hand Relation neither,- but one Day 
when we were all together at my Coufin s, the 
young Gentleman fupp d there, and after Supper 
her Mother and he and I entering into a Difcourfe 
together of feveral Matters, at laft we began to 
talk of Religion, and particularly of religious 
Matches, when we vere agreeably furpriz d to 
hear him talk for near half an Hour wholly upon 
that Subjeft ; you were not there juft when he 
talk d of it, but we all gave you an Account of it. 

Sift. I was not there; I fupp d at London that 
Night, and came to you the next Day, I fuppofe. 

Eld. Sift. You didfo; but it would havepleafed 
you to have heard him talk; he began with the 
Meaning and Nature of Religion, howitconfifted 
chiefly in Natural Duties, the Effects of the Knowr 
ledge and Acknowledgement of a God governing 
the World, to whom we ow d the Homage of our 
Lives, and of all we enjoyed, and muft account 
for the Ufe or Abufe of them ; then he obferv d 
how pleafant and agreeable a religious Life was, 
how it was Religion alone that made Life happy, 
Families pleafant. Society agreeable, and Relati 
ons 



[ 208 ] 

pns comfortable , how miferably fome Families were 
brought up for want of it , how beautiful it was to 
fee an Unity between Relations in Matters of that 
Nature, and how dreadful the Strife was in Fami 
lies where it was otherwife. 

Sift. Where was file all the wh le ? 

Eld.-Sift.-She fat juft by him, and he held her 
by the Hand all the while : He went on then to tell 
us a great many pleafaht Stories of Families that: 
he had known. How in fome the Husband was 
religious and the Wife atheiftic and profane ,- and 
in others the Wife was religious, and the Husband 
rakifh, loofe and profligate,- and how riiiferable the 
one made the Life of the other : Then he gave him- 
felf a loofe to talk of the conftaat, neverfailing Fe 
licity of Families where there was a Harmony in 
religious Things between Husband and Wife -, and 
then to try her, / fuppofe, or perhaps to prevent her 
thinking he pointed his Difcourfe at her, he turn d 
to her, and fmiling, My Dear, fays he, if there le 
any DefeB on that Account between you and 7, twill 
be on my fide ; but I hope to be helped forward by you. 

Sift. That was a kind of a Wheedle, rather than 
a ferious Turn in his Talk ,- and I fuppofe Hie took 
it fo. 

Eld. Sift. No, no, flie took it otherwife, I affure 
you; for he might eafily fee fhe was not pleafed: 
however he went on, and told us a long Story of a 
Couple that were marryM, and were both very 
religious, and yet, faid he, they never had any 
Happinefs, any Agreement, or any practical Reli 
gion in the Family ; this put me upon Inquiry in 
to the Circumftances of it: Wby^ Madam, fays he, 
one was of one Opinion in Religion? and one was of an 
other ; both of them were tenacious of their own Opi 
nion, and cenforious of the other ; One went to one 

Tlact 



Place to loorjhip, and one to another : One prayed to 
God in one part of the Houfe, and one in another* Why+ 
fays I, they pray d to the fame God, I hope ; fare Cha 
rity might have taught them^ to have pray d together / 
So far from that. Madam, fays he, that they not only 
never pray d with one another, but I believe they fcarce 
ver prayed for one another in their Lives, but look d upon 
one another as Heathens and Publicans, and fuch as 
God himfelf would not hear. 

This was a fad Family, Sir, faid I ; but I hope 
there are very few fuch in this Nation, where Re 
ligion is fo heartily efpous d. Truly, Madam, 
jays he, it may teach us what Occaflon there is 
for us to feek out for religious Wives, and to 
take care to be agreeable Husbands to them, 
when we have them : And here he faid a great 
many handfome Things indeed of the little 
Concern Men generally took upon themfelves 
either to marry religious Wives, or to fee that 
the Opinions of thofe they married were not too 
much (hocking with their own ; and efpecially 
that when Men had religious Wives, or Women 
had religious Husbands, they did not ftudy 5 
as much as lay in them, on both (ides, to bring 
their Opinions to agree with one another, bear 
ing with one another, yielding as much as pofll- 
ble to one another, and the like ; that as the 
Scripture faid, their Prayers might not be kin 
dred. 

Sin. Well, and was this the Difcourfe that file 
did not like ? 

Eld. Sift. I am fure her Mother and I lik d it ; 
But (he behaved. herfelf fo (imply about it the rex?: 
Day, that gave him a Surfeit of her Religion, anj 
he declin d her afterwards upon that very Account ; 
for as he told me fince very ferio ifly, fhe difco- 
ver d fuch a Temper at that Time, fuch a general 

P Diflikc 



. [ 210 ] 

Diflike of a religious Life, and of a regular Family 
that made him particularly afraid of her. 

Si&&amp;gt; Ay, ay, he fhould have gone, if he was 
fo nice ; I fliould have lik d his Difcourfe no bet 
ter than (he did. 

Eld. Sift. How can you fay fo, Sifter, when 
you cannot but remember you did like it when 
you heard of it ? 

Sift. I fhould have thought it was too publick 
tho, and that it was a kind of forcing me to a Ne- 
cefTity of giving an Account of my Opinions, whe 
ther I would or no. 

Eld Sift. Well, what you would have done, I 
know not ; but I think no Woman in her Senfes 
could have diflik d fuch a Principle as he went up 
on j it plainly fhew d her that he was a Man that 
placed the principal Felicity of his Life upon ha 
ving a religious Wife, a religious Converfation in 
his Family, and a religious Government of it as it 
increas d. 

Sift. What was that to the Purpofe ? She would 
have had him without it, and he might have talk d 
of it afterwards. 

Eld. Sift. Yes, yes, file would have had him 
without it, that was her Folly : But he was re- 
folv d he would not have her without it, and that 
was his Wifdom , and there was an abfolute Ne- 
ceffity for him to try before-hand what he had 
to expeft. 

Sift. Well, I would not have been try d by him ; 
he fhould e en have gone, I fay, and taken a Fool 
for his own finishing, where he could have found 
her. 

Eld. Sift. Well, and he did go ; and you know 
he marry d afterwards a very fenfible, fober and re 
ligious Woman, and they are a very happy Family 
as any I know j whereas our foolifh Coufin, you 

fee, 



[211] 

fee; has marry d a Rake , a Fellow of no Religion ; 
and is as miferable almoft as it is poffible for a Wo 
man that has a good Eftate to be made in this 
World. 

Sift. Well, Sifter, and how do you bring this 
Story down to my Cafe ? I hope I am not going to 
marry a Rake, as Jhe has done ; if I thought it was 
fo, I would foon clear my felf. 

Eld. Sift. No, no, Sifter, I do not fay fo ; but 
there are many kinds of Husbands to make a fober 
Woman miferable, befides Rakes, that I affure you ; 
nor was it upon that Account that I told you the 
Story. 

Sift. What about differing in Opinions you 
mean ? I muft confefs, I think, Sifter, you are too 
nice .in that Cafe, and run it up, I fay, too high : 
I can give many Inftances where fuch Matches do 
very well. 

Eld. Sift. Pretty well, you fhould have faid ; and 
I know where you are a-going to name a Family ; 
I fuppofe you mean our Coufin Martha 8 and 

Friend James ; one a ft rift Church-woman, 

and the other a Quaker. 

Sift. Well, fuppofe I did mean thofe ; they live 
very comfortably, and love one another very well. 

Eld. Sift. I am glad you have nam d them, be- 
caufe I would argue from the beft Example you 
can give : I allow they live as well as tis poffible 
for two of fo wide and irreconcileable Principles 
to do, and it is owing to a world of good Humour, 
Affection and Charity in both of them ; but if you 
think there is not fomething wanting between 
them, which ought to be between a Man and his 
Wife, fomething eflential to what we call Happi- 
nefs, fomething they would give half their Eftate 
to have, and the want of which robs them of the 
fweeteft part of Relation, and of the beft and mod 
P 2 folid 



[ 212 ] 

foJid Comfort of a married Life ; or if you think 
that they are not both fenfible of it, you are greatly 
miftaken. 

Sjft. I do not converfe much with them, not I, 
but I know they are a very loving Couple, and 
every body takes notice of it, and admires them 
for it. 

Eld. Sift. Before I go on where I was fpeaking, 
let me take notice to you, that your very laft Words 
now are an Argument on my fide : It is true, they 
are admiVd for their kind and pleafant way of li 
ving with one another, and why is it ! but becaufe 
it is fo felclom, fo rare, fo wonderful indeed, to 
find two of differing Opinions agree fo well, that 
all People wonder at thefe two } and (hall any 
young Woman, that values her Peace, and lays 
any ftrefs upon the Happinefs of an Agreement 
with her Husband, venture upon fuch a Circum- 
flance, in which it muft needs be next to a Miracle 
if (he has any fuch Happinefs ? 

Sift. You don c know but there may be many 
more fuch. 

Eld. Sift. Well, but I ll keep to your own Example, 
and I will convince you, Sifter, that even in thefe 
two, who are happy to a Miracle, yet there is an 
Exception to their Felicity , and tho they love 
entirely,and that Love covers a Multitude ofThingSf 
yet, I fay, they find fomething wanting, which 
other People have, and fomething that they would 
be glad to have ; and I have had frequent Occafi- 
ons in ferious Difcourfe with her, to hear her fpeak 
her Mind freely to me in this very Cafe; particu 
larly I will give you one Example of it, viz,. One 
Sunday Morning, when I went to Church with 
her, O ! faid (he to me, Coujin, if I could but get 
this dear Jemmy of mine to go to Church with me ! 
WelJ, fays I, what then? What; then ! fays fie, why 

then 






2I 3 



then I Ihould be the happieft Woman upon Earth : 
Methinks tis the melancholieft Thing, continued 
fie, to go alone to the Wor/hip of God, and the 
i Man that I love, and is to me as my own Soul, 
i -won t worfhip with me ; it breaks my Heart ; it 
quite takes away all the Comfort of my Life. A 
while after this, as we waik d along the Street to 
go to Church, (he fetch d a deep Sigh : What s the 
matter with you, faid I, Coupn ? The matter, Coujin ! 
fays Jhe : Look there, you II fee what s the Matter : 
There s Mrs. - with her Husband and aU her Chil 
dren^ going hand in hand, to ferve God together : they 
live a heavenly Life ; while we, tho we love one ano^ 
ther better than they do a great deal^ yet live like two 
Strangers on the Sabbath-day, whatever we do all ths 
reft of the Week : Now what think you of all their 
apparent Aftedion to one another, Sifter ? will 
that make up the Lofs * 

Sift. They live very comfortably for all that ; andi 
their Love makes up all thofe Intervals in their Sa- 
tisfa&lt;5tion. 

Eld. Sift. Well, I ll tell you how comfortably they 
live; I afTure you, tho they are Patterns to the 
whole World for extraordinary Affection, and their 
Love is fo uninterrupted, that it does make up a- 
bundance of other Things, yet here, I fay, it 
makes up no Intervals, I can afiure you of it ; nay, 
I think verily that Affection .which it is confefs d 
they have one for another, and for which they are 
both fo admired, makes it the worfe ; at leaft it 
makes it the more grievous to bear ; and the Part 
I ain telling you will prove it ; pray let me go on 
with it : I came back with her and din d, and af&gt; 
ter Dinner honeft Barnes takes up his Gloves and 
his Cane, and came and kifs d her, and prepares 
to go to the Quakers Meeting : She could hold 
no longer then, but burft out into Tears ^ he was 
P 3 ex- 



] 



. 

extremely anxious to know what ail d her, but fhe 
could not (peak ; fhe was unwilling to grieve him, 
and unwilling to fay any thing that was unkind } 
he prefs d her a long time, and faid a thoufand 
tender kind Things, that I hardly expeded from 
him } but that made her cry the more : At loft, I 
faid to him fmiling, I know what troubles her, but 
you won t relieve her : Wont I, fays he, a little 
mov d, Why daft thee fay fo ? I would let out my Blood 
to do her any good ; and foe knows I will flick at nothing 
to do fir her. Why, fays I, you won t ferve God 
with her : Won t I ! fays he; yes I would with all 
my Heart, if fhe would let me. This I found laid 
a Foundation for fome Difpute about their Princi 
ples, but fhe wifely avoided that, and I perceived it, 
fo I put ijt oft -, I dare fay, fays I, fhe would give all 
fl&gt;e has in the World you would but go to Church with her 
now ; at that fhe burft out, tho full of Tears, Ay, 
fays fhe, I would give him back my Jointure with all my 
Heart* He took her in his Arms, and with all the 
tendered and kindeft Expreflions that he was capa 
ble of, endeavoured to pacify her, and put an End 
to it, as a Thing they could not difpute of without 
Unldndnefs, and therefore better to be avoided ; 
but it took up the whole Afternoon to reftore them 
to one another, and fhe neither went to the Church, 
nor he to the Meeting, and yet here was nothing 
but Kindnefs and Affedicn between them all this 
while. 

Sift. I never heard any thing of this before. 
Eld. Sift. But I have heard a great deal more 
from her, and from him too ; tho fhe loves him to 
an Extremity, and to give him his due, he merits 
all her Affection, yet as fhe is a very fober, religi 
ous Woman, fhe is ready to break her Heart to 
think fometimes what a Life file lives, fhe can 
fcarce e\ r er talk to me of any thing elfe, I having 

been, 



] 



been fomething more intimate with her on thofe 
Occafions than ordinary. 

Sift. What has foe to complain of ? Has (he not 
a kind Husband ? and does he not give her all the 
Liberty and Freedom in the World ? Does fhe not 
go as fine, and drefs as well as (he pleafes ? Does 
he not keep her a Coach, and give her Leave to 
give her own Liveries, and go where, and do what 
file w r ill ? Does (he not Jive like a Queen ? what 
can (he complain of ? 

Eld. Sift. Her Cafe, in a word, Sifter, is the 
very Cafe our dear Mother warn d us of ; and it is 
not hard to tell you what (he has to complain of; 
fhe is a very fober religious Woman, that ferves God 
Night and Day, with a Sincerity and Devotion not 
eafy to be found among Women, as the World goes 
now, and I ll tell you what grieves her, and what 
/lie complains of: Her Husband is as religious too 
in his Way as /lie is in hers ; but as there is no Har 
mony or Concurrence in their feveral Principles 
and Ways of Worfhip, fo there can be no publick 
ftated Family-Worftiip : he does not join with her, 
nor Hie cannot join with him ; fo all the Thing 
call d Family-Religion, the Glory of a married 
State, and the Comfort of Family-Society is in- 
tirely loft , the Servants are left ungovern d, the 
Children unguided ; and there again is her Grief 
doubled, fhe has four little young Children : It is 
true, he is a Man of too good a Humour to deny 
or reftrain her in the Education of her Children ; 
but it is a fad Thing to hereto be obliged to inftrudfc 
and caution her Children againft the Pradice of 
their Father, whofe Life ought to be their Pattern, 
and his Practice their Example. O Sifter ! if ever 
you come to look into fuch a Condition with a 
feeling Senfe of it, as your own, you will find it 
is not all the Tendernefs of the moft affectionate 
P 4 Husband 



Husband in the World can make up the Lofs of 
thefe Things : On the other hand, he has his Dif- 
fatisfadions too ; he is as fad on the account of 
her Difference from him, as fhe is for his Diffe 
rence from her ; fo that in fhort the Unhappinefs is 
mutual. 

Sift. They fhould have confider d and prevented 
thefe Things beforehand. 

^ Eld. Sift. That s true; Sifter; and that s the Rea~ 
fon of all my Difcourfe to you ; that s my Propo- 
fal to you, and the Reafon why I prefs you fo 
much to come to a Certainty in thefe Things ? you 
will have fad Reflections hereafter, when tis pad 
Remedy. 

Sift* I am not fo nice in the Point ; I told .you 
my Remedy for it ; if he can t come up to me, 
I can come up to him ; I am fure he is no 
Quaker, 

Eld. Sift. I\J^ear you, Sifter ; you make light of 
it now : I believe he is no Quaker, but he may be 
worfe ; and you are not fure he will equal that 
Quaker in goodnefs of Humour, Kindnefs and Af- 
fe&ion, the want of which^ I muft tell you, will 
make the want of the other be fo much the worfe 
to bear. 

Sift. Well, I muft run the venture of it, I think, 
f tis gone too far to break off now. 

Eld. Sift. I have not been perfuading you to break 
it off, Sifter, you miftake me , I am only arguing 
or rather perfuading you to inform your felf of 
Things, and know beforehand what you are go 
ing to do, that you may not run into Mifery blind 
fold, and make your Marriage be, as old Hobbesfaid 
of his Death, A Leap in the Dark. 

Sift. I think all Marriage is a Leap in the Dark, 
in one Refped or another. 

Eld. 



C 217 ] 

Eld- Sift. Well, Sifter, if it be fo, it fliould not 
be fo in Matters of Religion, in whatever other 
Cafe it is f o ; that fhould be clear, whatever is; 
doubtful ; that fliould be examined into, and per 
fectly difcover d, whatever is omitted ; the Mi- 
flakes in this are fatal to both Sides, and often ir 
retrievable, and the Confequences difmal. 

Sift. It is all a Hazard, and that among the reft. 

Eld. Sift No, no Sifter ; I am firm in my Opi 
nion ; you and I have often Argued it when you 
have feemed to be of my Mind : It is true, there is 
a Hazard in every Part of the Change of Life ; we 
rifque our Peace, our Affeftion, our Liberty, our 
Fortunes, but we ought never to rifque our Reli 
gion. 

Sift. Why I am not running the rifque of my own 
Religon, tho I do not kno\v his. 

Eld. Sift. Yes truly in Tome meafure, Sifter, you 
do, and your own Words acknowledg d it juft now : 
Did you not fay, that if he would not be of your 
Opinion, you would be of his ? And is it not often 
that we fee young Women change their Opinions, 
nay, change the very Principles of their Religion, 
in Compliance with their Husbands ? 

Sift. Well, and is it not very well to do fo ? 

Eld. Sift. If their Principles were ill founded be 
fore, they do well to change them to be fure ; but 
is it not oftner that they rather abandon Principle 
than exchange it ; lofe their Religion than increafe 
it? for you cannot fuggeft, that all the Women 
who have chang d their Opinions in Compliance 
with their Husbands were wrong before, and have 
chang d for the better. 

Sift. It is better fo far, that it takes away the 
Foundation of Family-Breaches, which you fpeak 
of 

m 



[218] 



Eld. Sift. But it is a fad Exchange if it be 
wrong ; for the Woman then exchanges the Peace 
of her Confcience for Peace with her Husband; 
lofes her Religion, and gives up her Principles in- 
ftead of exchanging them for better. 

Sift. There may be fome Compliance fure, with 
out entirely abandoning Principle ; you propofe no 
Medium between right and wrong. 

Eld. Sift. Why, take our Coufin we were fpeaking 
of, or her Husband the Quaker, let them Hand for 
the Example : Suppofe /he in Compliance with him, 
for you know flie has Affedion enough to do any 
po/Jible thing to oblige him, fhould turn Quaker; 
would fhe not retain a Sting in her Soul, that 
would deftroy all her inward Peace &gt; 

Sift. I don t know what ito fay to that; Quakers 
are Chriftians I hope ? 

Eld- Sift. I won t enter into that ; I ll allow them 
to be Chriftians too ; but cake it of him as well as of 
her : Suppofe him to change then, and come over to 
her, then it would be the fame in him, which is all 
one to the Cafe in hand : Pray where is the Felicity 
of fuch a Match, where one or other is fuppofed 
to ad: without Confcience, or againft Confcience, 
all their Days, for Conjugal Peace, and to facrifice 
Principle to Affection ? Are not thefe ftiH invinci 
ble Arguments for what I am perfuading to ? 

Sift. I fcarce know what you are perfuading to, 
not I. 

Eld. Sift. Yes, you do, Sifter, very well ; how 
ever I ll repeat it as often as you fay fo : I am urg 
ing the abfolute Neceffity of yoijng People com 
paring their religious Principles and Opinions be 
fore Marriage ; and feeing that they agree, at leaft 
fo far as to lay no Foundation of a religious Breach 
in the Family after Marriage ; that they may wor- 

fliip 



(hip God together, joyn in Family-Precepts, and 
fupporc Famil) -Religion ; that they may agree in 
their Inftrudions to their Children, and join in fet- 
ting them Examples ; that there may be no Difpu- 
tingsor Dividings againft one another, but a mutual 
Harmony in the propagating their own eternal In- 
terefts, and that they may go hand in hand the true 
Way to Heaven. 

Sift And cannot this happen to them without a 
Settlement of CircumftSnces before-hand, that we 
muft capitulate about Religion, as we do about 
Jointures, and fettle Principles as we do Fortunes, 
always before-hand, 

Eld. Sift. That it may not or cannot happen fo, 
I will not fay; but if you will take the World at 
large, as it is now dated, between thofe that have 
no Religion at all, and thofe who differ from others ; 
you muft allow, Sifter, it is a Lottery of a thou- 
fand Blanks to one Prize, and who that values their 
own Peace, would venture the odds ? 

Sift. I believe I (hall venture for all that. 

Eld. Sift. Then either you have no Principle nowi 
Sifter, or it s ten to one but you give it up when you 
are marry d. 

Sift. Perhaps you may be miftaken in both. 

Eld. Sjft. If I am, there is a Third, which I was 
a going to add, but reftrained it in refped to you, 
in which I believe I (hall not be miftaken. 

Sift. Let us have it however. 

Eld. Sift. If you will have it then, it is this, 
That (to repeat the former) either, as I faid, you 
have no Principle now, or will give tip your Prin 
ciples when you are marry d, or will be very mi- 
ferable in a continual Family Strife to maintain 
them. 



Sift. It 



[ 220 ] 

Siff. It mull all be ventured, Sifter ; I fee no 
Remedy now &gt; there s no going back at this time 
of Day. 

After this Difcourfe, the eldeft Sifter, feeing her 
refolute, gave it over, and the young Lady was as 
good as her Word ; for (he put it all to the venture, 
as will appear in the following Dialogue. 



End of the Firjt Dialogue, 




PI A, 



[221 ] 



DIALOGUE II. 




E young Lady raention d in the fore 
going Dialogue is now to be view d in 
another Station of Life : She was not 
altogether fo thoughtlefs of her Circum- 
ftance, or fo unconcern d as fhe feemed 
to be by her Difcourfe to her Sifter, about what 
was before her, but (he had not the Conduct or Re- 
folution of her Sifters to carry her thro ; however 
fhe did take one Step fufficient to leave a fad Exam 
ple of a Father perfectly unconcerned about the re 
ligious Settlement of his Children, and making the 
Good of their Souls no Part of his Care. 

It was but a few Days after the Difcourfe which 
fhe had held with her Sifter, that her Father and fhe 
had the following Dialogue one Evening after the 
Gentleman who courted her was gone away, her 
Father being in a Parlour all alone, called her to 
him, and began with her thus : 

Fa. Weft, Child, I fuppofc your Ceremonies be 
gin to be pretty well over now ; w Np n are we to 
bring this Bufinefs to a Conclufion ? 

Da. I am in no hafte, Sir. 

Fa. Well, 



[ 222 ] 



Fa. Well but Mr.*- is in hafte; you may be 
fure he would be willing to have the Inconveniencies 
of coming and going thus late be over , and as ong 
as both Sides are fatisfy d, why fhould we keep him 
in Sufpenfe. 

Da. I do not keep him in Sufpenfe, Sir. 

Fa. Well then, if you are agreed, Jet us put an 
End to it, my Dear, and tell me what Day you will 
be marry d, and I ll make the Appointment, 

Da. Agreed, Sir! I have agreed to nothing, it is 
all between him and you. 

Fa. How do you mean, Child? he has now 
waited on you thefe fix or feven Weeks , I hope you 
know one anothers Minds before now. 

Da. We have fpent fix or feven Weeks indeed in 
his Vifits, talking and rattling of Things in general, 
but I am not much the wifer for it. 

Fa. Why you are a little better acquainted, I hope, 
than you were at firft, Child : Do you like the Gen 
tleman, or have you any thing to object ? 

Da. Sir, I don t trouble my felf much with Ob- 
jedions, Sir, 1 leave it all to you ; I refolve to do as 
you will have me do ; I won t do as my Sifter did. 

Fa. Well, you are in the right there ; but 1 hope 
here is no Occafion neither : This Gentleman is a 
Man of Sobriety, and of a good Character. 

Da. I hope, Sir, you have informed your felf fully 
of that ; for I leave it all to you. Sir, and about his 
Religion too. 

Fa. I have known him a great many Years, Child, 
he is a very honeft good fort of a Gentleman, I aflfure 
you. 

Da. I hope you have good Grounds to be farisfy d, 
Sir ; for I depend upon you, Sir, for every Thing ; 
I know you would not propofe him to me if he was 
not a very fober good Man. 

Fa. I 



[ 223 ] 



Fa. I am thoroughly fatisfy d of that, my Dear. 

Da. And of his being a religious Perfon, Sir? 
you know what my Mother obliged us to on her 
Death- bed : I hope, Sir, you have a good Account 
of his being a fober religious Man ? I leave it all to 
you, Sir. 

Fa. Yes, yes, my Dear, he is a very religious 
good Man, for ought I know* I afliire you. 

Da. He is a Proteftant, Sir, is not he ? 

Fa. A Proteftant, Child! Yes, yes, he was al 
ways a Proteftant all the while I traded with him ; 
I have had an Accouut of it from feveral People : 
A Proteftant ! yes, yes, you may be fure he is a 
Proteftant j I dare fay he is. 

Da. Well, Sir, if you are fatisfy d, I have no 
more to fay. 

Fa. Nay,Child,why doft thou put it fo all upon me ? 
I believe he is a good Man, and religious enough , I 
didn t bring him up, nor I han t ask d him how re 
ligious he is ; I do not enter into thofe Things with 
Folks ; every one s Religion is to himfelf. 

Da. Well, Sir, if you are fatisfy d, I muft be fa 
tisfy d to be fure. 

Fa. Nay *, I would have you be fatisfy d too, 
Child ; can t you ask him what Religion he is of? 

Da. I can t ask him fuch a Qiieftion, not I; be- 
fides, Sir, if you are fatisfy d, I fhall look no far 
ther. 

Fa. I know not what Occafion there is to be fo 
fcrupulons ,- you fee what ridiculous Work your 
Sifter made of it, and yet marry d the fame Man 
two year after. 



f Here the Father feemed a little unwilling to have it 
all lie upon him, 

Da. Sir 



,[ 224] 

rt- Sir, I don t make any Scruples not I, if you 
are fatisfy d , I (hall do as you would have me ; I 
don t * fuppofe you would have me have him, if he 
wan t a very fober Man. 

Fa* I tell thee, Child, I dare fay he is a very fo 
ber good Man, and will make a very kind Husband ; 
I can fay no more to thee. 

Da. Ail I defire to know is, that he is a Prote- 
fiant,- I hope you are fure of that, Sir. 

Fa* Dear Child, what makes thee talk fo &gt; 

Da. He has liv d a long while in Italy, Sir, where,, 
they fay, they are all Papifts. 

Fa. Why fo did I Child, when I was a young 

Man, but never turned Papift ; I dare fay Mr. 

is a Proteftant , I never heard any one fufped him 
before. 

It may be feen by this dull and empty Difcourfe, 
on both fides, that this poor young Lady went on 
tanquam boves, like the Ox to the Slaughter, not 
knowing, or not confidering, that it was for her 
Life; fhe refolved all her Scruples into that weak 
%vay of anfwering, / leave it all to you. Sir ; I hope 
you are fatisffd, Sir , and fU do as you ivould have me 3 
Sir, and the like , not confidering that fhe had a 
Father that laid no Strefs upon any thing but the 
Money,- his whole Care was for the Settlement, 
and the Eftate, not inquiring into the Principles o 
the Perfon; and therefore his Anfwers are as filly 
for a Father, as her s were for a Wife, viz,. That 
he dare fay the Gentleman was a very fober good Man 
that he had known him a long time, and did not que- 
&ion but he was a Proteflant, and the like; in a 



* She has nothing in her but the fame dull Story of do 
ing every thing her Father would have her do. 

word? 



[ 225 ] 

word, the Girl left it all t&lt;5 her Father , and the 
Father, perfectly indifferent as to Matters of Reli 
gion, left it out of his Inquiry : And thus they were 
marry d in a few Weeks after, and abundance of 
Mirth and Jollity they had, which cover d all the 
Appearances of other Things for a great while. 

At length, the Lady went home to her Houfe 
in the City, which was magnificently furnifh d ; 
among other rich Furniture, the Rooms were ex 
ceedingly ftor d with a noble Collection of very 
fine Paintings, done by the beft Matters in Italy ; 
the Part of Italy where this Gentleman had liv d, 
Z//&. the Duke of Tufcan/s Country, being parti 
cularly eminent for choice Pictures : It happen d 
after (he had been fome time at home, had fettled 
her Houfe, and had finifh d the Decorations of 
her Rooms, that her Husband bringing fome very 
fine Pictures home, which were newly arrived 
: rom Italy, had, among others, three very choice 
Pieces hung up in their Bed-chamber, whereof one 
being a Pifture of the Crucifixion, extremely va 
luable and fine, he contriv d to have hang d up by 
the Bed-fide. 

His Wife, not us d to fuch Things, perfectly ig 
norant of the Defign, not at all acquainted with 
the Ufe made of them in Popilh Countries, took 
no manner of notice of it at firft, taking it to be 
only brought in there, as it was a moft noble piece 
of Painting, and that her Husband thought it was 
the beft Thing he could grace her Chamber with : 
It happen d her two Sifters came together fome time 
after, as is ufual, to fee her Houfe, and co fee the fine 
Collection of Paintings, which they had been told 
fo much of; and after fome time, their Sifter and 
their new Brother led them thro all the Apartments, 
which were indeed extremely fine : The Brother in 
Law, as what he took great Delight in, made it his 

Bufinefs 



[ 226 ] 



Bufinefs to tell them the Defign of the feveral Pic 
tures, what Places or fine Houfes fuch and fuch re- 
prefented, what Stories and what Faces others were 
drawn for, and the like ; and being his Wife s Si 
fters, he treated them with all the Freedom and 
Kindnefs imaginable. 

When they came to the Crucifixion, which hung 
by the Bed-fide, he told them there was one of the 
fineft pieces of Painting in England ; told them the 
Name of the Painter that had drawn it, who, he 
faid, was one of the beft Matters in Italy ; and I ll 
affure you, Sifter, fays he, this is counted a fine 
Thing in Italy* 

But why mufl it hang in your Bed-chamber, 
Brother ? fays the other marry d Sifter, not fufped- 
ing any thing ; for her eldeft Sifter had not told her 
any thing of what die had faid to her Sifter. O 
Madam, fays he, they always have thefe Things in 
their Bed-chambers in Italy on a religious Account. 
Well, fays the Sifter, but as we do not make ufe of 
them that way, methinks they are better any where 
elfe. Why, Sifter, fays he, our Bed-chambers are 
Places where we are, or ought to be moft ferious. 
Why, fays fhe again, but we that are Proteftants 
do not make a religious Ufe of them. Not fo much 
perhaps, fays he, as the Romans do ; but I cannot 
fay but they may be ufeful to affift Devotion. Not 
at all, fays the Sifter : At leaft, Madam, fays he, 
they can be no Difadvantage to us } we want all 
poflible Helps in our Adorations. We have the 
Promife of the Spirit of God to affift us, fays the 
Sifter very warmly, and need no idolatrous Pic 
tures. He faw liie was tart, and feemed to be for 
ward to difpute, which he avoided , fo he. called 
them to look on another Pidure, and that pafs d 
off the Difcourfe. 



Aft 



er 



[ 22 7 ] 



After they had gone thro feveral Apartments, 
and had admired the fine Paintings, as indeed they 
well deferved, they came to his Clofet ; he would 
have avoided going in, and told them it was in Con- 
fufion, and not worth their feeing ; but his Wife 
having told them it was her Husband s Clofet, they 
would not be denied : When they went in, they were 
furprized with the moft charming Pictures that their 
Eyes had ever beheld, with abundance of Rarities, 
which their new Brother, being very curious, had 
pick d up in his Travels ; and in a little Room on 
one fide of his Clofet, upon a Table covered with a 
Carpet of the fineft Work they had ever feen, flood 
a Pix or Repofitory of the Holt, all of Gold, and 
above them an Altar-piece of moft exquifite Paint 
ing : He was indeed jealous of being betray d by 
thefe Things, but there being none but the Ladies, 
who had never feen fuch Things before, and knew 
nothing by the Form, they retired without fo much 
as difcovering what it was ; and as for his Wife, 
jflie was fo perfectly ignorant, that (he was eafily 
impofed upon. 

They pafs d from this Place to the other fide of 
the Clofet, where were abundance of very fine 
Pieces ; but here the elded Sifter could not forbear 
obferving that all the Pictures on that whole fide of 
the Room were religious Pieces, and tho ftill 
without much Sufpicion, fhe faid to him, I ob- 
ferve, Brother, you Gentlemen that have liv d in 
Italy are fo in love with the Popifh Cuftoms, that 
you are always full of thefe Church Paintings ; 
here s nothing but Reprefentations of Chrift and 
the Virgin Mary* in one Shape OK another, in every 
Room in your Houfe : She went on jeftingly for 
fome tirne^ till fhe came to the upper end of the 
Room to a Picture which hung juft over an eafy 
Chair, and which had a Curtain drawn over it ; 

2 he 



[ 228 ] 

"he thought (lie would not have let her Curiofity 
out-run her good Manners, and fo did not appre 
hend her opening it ; but (he made no Scruple of 
offering to fling back the Curtain, but foon found 
it would not run back, being, as fhe found after 
wards, to draw up in Feftoons with Pullies : How 
ever fhe difcover d, by what /he had done, that 
the Pidure was the fame with that in the Bed 
chamber, viz,, a large Crucifix, or Pidure of the 
Crucifixion. 

She faid no more, but haften d to view what was 
farther to be feen, yet fo as that it was eafy to dif- 
cover that fhe was in no little Diforder. Her Sifter 
that came wich her difcover d it firft, and ask d 
what ail d her } then the new-marry d Sifter, whofe 
Houfe flie was in, came to her with the fame Que- 
ftion ; fhe own d to them (he was not very well, 
and that prefently gave her an Excufe to withdraw 
into the Womens Apartment, where (he had fome 
room to recoiled herfelf : However (he took care 
not to give the leaft Caufe to fufpedwhat ail d her, 
till fhe got an Opportunity, when no body was 
in the Room with her but her youngeft Sifter, (fhe 
who was firft marry d) and then fhe burft out into 
Tears, and taking her Sifter about the Neck, with 
the greateft Paflion imaginable, O my Dear Sifter ! 
fays (lie, this poor Child is utterly undone : Un 
done ! fays her Sifter, what do you mean ? I think 
fhe is nobly marry d : O Sifter ! I tell you (he is 
undone ! the Man s a Papift ! Somebody came in 
to the Room juft as fhe had faid this, fo that her 
Sifter had no time to ask her any farther ; and (he, 
to prevent it, added, Pll tell you more by and by ; fo 
they pafs d it over. 

You may be fure it was, after this, a very uneafy 
Hour that the two Sifters fpent in the Ceremonies of 
their Vifit, both longing earneftly to be at Liberty 

to 



[ 22? ] 

to talk together, one to disburden her Mind, 
which was opprefs d with what Hie had formerly 
fufpeded, and now found confirm d,- and the other 
to hear the Particulars of what fhe was fo furpri- 
zed at. 

It was not long before they got away, and as 
foon as ever they were in their Coach, the marry d 
Sifter faid, Dear Sifter, you have fo furprfafd me with 
what you told me jufl now, that I thought every Minute 
an Hour, till I got away, that I might talk about it j / 
intreat you what makes you talk as you do ? 

Eld. Sift. O Sifter ! I am too well fatisfy d of it-; 
I am fure tis fo ; I fufpeded it all along, before 
they were marry J d, but now I am convinced of it : 
I am as fure of it as if I had feen him at High 
Mafs *. 

Marry *d Sift* Now you furprize me again, you 
fay you fufpected it all along. 

Eld. Sift. Indeed I did , tho I own I know no 
Reafon why I did fo. 

Mar. Sift- But why did you not warn her of it &gt; 
fhe ought to have known it } certainly fhe would 
never have marry d him if fhe had known it : that 
was very unkind, not to warn her of it. 

Eld. Sift. I did very plainly tell her my Sufpici- 
ons, but as I had no Ground to faften it upon him, 
it made very little Impreflion upon her, nor could 
I really fay it was fo. 

Mar. Sift. Well, I would have preft her to a fo- 
lemn Inquiry into it , you might have prevented 
her Ruin, if you had done it in time j now fhe 



* Here fhe tells her what {he had obferifd upon his 
Pictures and Crucifixes. 

0.3 is 



[ 230 



is undone indeed, if it be as you fay, and there is 
110 room to prevent it. 

Eld- Sift. You cannot think I had fo little Con 
cern for her, as not to tell her my Sufpicions, and 
to ufe all the Arguments I was capable of, to per- 
fuade and prevail with her to inquire into his Prin 
ciples -, for I know toq well what the dwelling 
twenty Years in Italy might do*. 

Mar. Sift. Poor Child ! Hie is ruin d indeed } fhe 
has ieap d headlong into it, in fpight of good Ad 
vice, and her Ruin is of her own procuring : But 
\vhat wall you do now, Sifter ? will you let her 
know it ? 

Eld. Sift. No, no ; I won t be the Meflenger 
of her Sorrows, (he ll find it out foon enough ; 
the Thing will difcover it felf too foon. 

Mar. Sift. Dear, Sifter, what does my Father fay 
to it ? Does he know it ? 

Eld. Sift. You know, Sifter, my Father gives 
hirnfelf very little Trouble about fuch Things ; I 
dare fay he never inquired into it, or concern d 
himfelf about it. 

Mar. Sift. Does he know any thing of it now ? 

Eld. Sift. Truly I do not know ; but I know that 
after I had preft her fo earneftly about it, fhe did 
mention it to my Father once at a diftance in their 
Difcourfe, as that file did not queftion but he was 
a good fober Man, or elfe he (her Father} would 
not have recommended him ; and added, I hope he 
is a Proteftant, Sir ? 

Mar. Sift. Well, what faid my Father to that 
Part ? 



* Here (be recites to her the Particulars of the whole 
D akgue foregoing^ between her and her younger Sifter. 

Eld. 



Eld. Sift. He anfwer d after the fame flighty way 
as thofe do who make the main part none of their 
Care : Yes, yes, Child, a Proteftant ! I dare fay 
he is , he was always a Proteftant when I was in 
Italy with him, and every body knows he is a Pro 
teftant ; you need not queftion that, I dare fay. 

Mar. Sift. Poor Child ! fhe had no fincere Con 
cern upon her about it,- if fhe had, /lie would not 
have been put off in a Matter of fo much Moment, 
with a bare Suppodtion, taking it for granted , or 
I dare fay tis fo; without inquiring into it. 

Eld. Sift. It is too true } fhe has not made it 
much her Concern, and I am fo much the more 
afraid for her now. 

Mar. Sift. Afraid for her, fay you, what are 
you afraid of her turning Papift ? 

Eld. Sift. Why, yes, I am : You know I told 
you what an Anfwer ihe gave me to that very 
Point feveral Times, viz, That if he would not be 
of her Opinion, fhe would be of his ; that if he 
was a Chriftian Catholick, fhe was a Catholick 
Chrifh an, and they would have no Strife about 
that, and the like , and yet that is not all my Con 
cern neither. 

Mar. Sift. What is it then ? 
Eld. Sift. Why I fear more the Infinuations and 
Subtilty of his Tongue, his unwearied Sollicitation, 
the powerful Motives of a Man perfectly M after of 
the Art of Perfuafion ; and that the more Sweet- 
nefs he has in his Temper, for he is really of a 
moft engaging Difpofition, the more Influence his 
Words will have on her, to win her over to 
Error, not merely in Complaifance to him as her 
Husband, but by her not being able to anfwer his 
Reafonings. 

Mar. 



Mar. Sift. I confefs, tis hard to refill the Force 
of thofe Perfuaiions, the Reafons for which we 
cannot rid our Hands of by Argument ; and one is 
apt to think one ought to comply with what we 
cannot confute , otherwife the Papifts will tell us, 
we are Proteftants, we know not why ; a Jew -may 
tell us we are Chriftians, we know not why ; and 
an Atheift may tell us we are religious, we know 
not why } and fo on. 

Eld. Sift. And that which is worfe, there is no 
breaking the thing to her ; to talk to her of it, is 
to anticipate her Misfortunes ; perhaps he defigns 
to conceal it from her for good and all, and at lead 
it may be a great while before he difcovers it ; and 
all that Time (he will be happy in not thinking 
herfelf fo mifcrable as (he is. 

Mar. Sift. I allow you, it is not fit to mention it 
to her firit ; and yet 1 am afraid if flie finds it our, 
(he will endeavour to conceal it from us. 

Eld* Sift. I doubt fo i and by that means we are 
perfectly deprived of all Opportunity of affifting 
her, or endeavouring to fortify her againfl the 
Intimations of any to turn her to Popery. 

Mar. Sift. But I think we lliould break it to my 
Father. 

Eld. Sift. I know not what to fay to that ; I am 
afraid his Indifference in the Thing fhould be a 
Means to difcover it to her, and bring fome In 
convenience or other with it. 

Mar. Sift. I do not fee any danger of that ; but 
J think tis fit he fnould know it on many Ac 
counts. 

Eld. Sift. I acknowledge, I think he fhould know 
it, if it were poflible to engage him not to difclofe 
it ; but unlefs it can be done fo, I would not have 
any hand in telling it him, Upon any Account 

whatever. 

While 



C 



While they were in this Dilemma, and doubtful 
what to do in it, as to telling their Father, they 
were delivered from it, by their Father himfelf, as 
will appear in the following Difcourfe : As foon as 
they came Home, their Father began with them, 
for he was more impatient to open his Mind to 
them, than they were on the other hand doubtful 
about confulting with him upon this unhappy Cafe ; 
both Sides being therefore willing to talk of it, 
they could not want an Opportunity ; and the 
Father after Supper began it with his new marry d 
Daughter thus : 

Fa. Well y Betty, you have been to vifit your 
Sifter in her new Houfe I find : How do you like 
Things ? 

Mar. Sift. Sir, (he is nobly marry d to be fure ; 
(he has a Houfe like a Palace. 

Eld. Sift- 1 think there are the fined Paintings that 
ever I faw in my Life ; he has laid out vaft Sums 
fure in Pictures- 

Fa. He always had the fineft Collection of Paint 
ings of any Merchant in Leghorn ; he is a great Lo 
ver of Art, and has a nice Judgment, which are 
the tw r o only Things that can make buying fo many 
Pictures rational ; for his Pieces are fo well chofen, 
that he may fell them when he pleafes for above a 
thoufand Pounds more than they coft. 

Eld. Sift. I like his Fancy to Pictures very well ; 
but methinks I don t admire his having fo many 
Crucifixes and Church-pieces among them. 

Fa. It is the Cuftom in Italy, Child ; all People 
have them. 

Eld. Sift. That is, becaufe they make a religious 
Ufe of them; but I think Proteftahts fliould not 
be fo fond of them, who make no fuch Ufe of 
them; it looks fo like Popery, that if the Mind 

was 



[ 2 34l 



Xvas not furnifh d againft them, it feems to give a 
Life that way ; and then I obferve he hangs them 
all juft as they do ; his Crucifixes and Paflion-Pic- 
tures hang all by the Bed-fide, his Altar-pieces juft 
at the upper end of the Room, or on the Eaft-fide : 
I cannot imagine why Proteftants, if they will 
have the Pictures, (hould juft hang them in the 
fame Places, and mimick the Catholicks in the Ap 
pearances, as long as they do not make the fame 
Ufe of them. 

This Difcourfe touched their Father to the Heart, 
and, as he faid afterwards, he could hardly forbear 
Tears } but he held it in a little longer, and reply d, 
that it was only the Cuftom of the Country, and 
they might think no Harm in it \ and fo being 
willing to put by the Difcourfe, he turns again to 
his marry d Daughter thus : 

Fa. Well, but Child, how do you like your new 
Brother? for you never faw him before, or at leaft, 
never to converfe with him. 

Mar. Sift. He is a very fine Gentleman, Sir,- I 
was going to wifli you Joy, Sir, and to fay I was 
very glad to fee my Sifter was fo well marry d, but 
fomething prevented me *. 

Fa. I know not what prevented yon, but I be 
lieve it was the fame that forces me to tell you both 
I have no Joy in it at all, your Sifter is undone. 

Mar* Sift. Undone, Sir! what do you mean? 
What can be the Matter ? 



Now the Father could contain himfelf no longer* 

Fa. She 



Fa. She is undone indeed, Child ; and more than 
that, I have undone her , the -Mans a Pafift *. 

Mar. Sift. Are you fure of i^ Sir &gt; 

Fa. Ay, ay, I am too fure of it ; I have liv d in 
Italy y and know fomething of the Manner of fuch 
Things; 1 prefently difcover d it. 

Eld. Sift. Will you pleafe to tell us how ypu difco- 
ver d it, for we have had the fame Thoughts, but 
we durft not fpeak our Minds about it ? 

Fa. Child, it is impoffible for any one that has 
liv d in Italy not to difcover it, as foon as he fees his 
Houfe. 

Eld. Sift- What from the Crucifixes and Church- 
Pi&ures I fpoke of ? 

Fa. No, no, Child : But was you in his Clofet ? 

Eld. Sift. Yes, Sir. 

Fa. And was you in an inner Room that you went 
to thro his Clofet, and thro* another Room be 
yond it ? 

Eld. Sift. Yes, Sir ; we were both there, but w f e 
faw nothing there more than ordinary, only ftill more 
Church-Pieces, as that of the Paflion, the Salutati 
on, the Afcenfion, and the like. 

Fa. It is becaufe you have not been us d to fuch 
Things, Child } why it is his Oratory ; it is a little 
confecrated Chapel, and there ftands an Altar and 
an Altar-piece over it, with a Crucifix, and the 
Afcenfion painted above that , on either fide there 
are fine rich Paintings, one of the Baptifm, and 
another of the Aflembly at the Feaft of Pentecoft, 
and the Holy Ghoft defcending in flaming Tongues, 



*" The Father bur flout into Tears as foon as he had fpo- 
ken the Words, and the Daughters flood as it iverefpeech- 
lefsfor fome time, looking at one another , at lafl the mar- 
rfd Daughter /poke. 

and 



and the like : But that is not all, for upon the Altar 
is a Fix of pure Gold, cover d with a piece of Crim- 
fon Velvet, which is^he Repoiitory, as they call it, 
of the Hoft. 

Eld. Si&. I wonder, Sir, he would let you fee 
thefe Things, if he defigned to conceal his Profef- 
fion. 

Fa. It was all by Accident; for when I was in 
his Clofet, he was called haftily down, and his Wife 
let me into thofe two Rooms; but alas! (he knows 
nothing of the Meaning of them, flie only takes 
them to be fine Italian Rarities. 

Eld* A /?. .Indeed I. do not wonder at that, for I 
underftood them no more than fhe does; and yet, 
my Sifter knows, I prefently entertained rnt fame 
Opinion of his Religion as you do now, but it was 
from a Pidure of the Crucifixion that hung by his 
Bed-fide with a Curtain over it. 

Fa. Well, Child, yours are Sufpicions, mine is a 
Certainty ; when I charged him w ith it, he could 
not deny it, but feemed furpriz d when he found I 
had been in his Chapel. 

Mar. -5V/?. Nay, it is then out of doubt, it feems, 
if he owns it; but what will become of my Sifter ? 
Now fhe will have Reafon to fee how juft my Mo 
ther s Injunctions were to us all ; 1 fear ihe will re 
proach herfelf with the Neglect of them. 

Fa. My Dear, fhe muft reproach me with it; tis 
I have rain d her ; I have given her up. 

Mar. Sift* No, Sir ; I think it lay upon her to 
have inquired into his Principles in Religion, be 
fore fhe had given herfelf cut of her own Power. 

Fa. My Dear, fhe came to me, and queftion d 
with me upon this very Point ; fhe ask d me if he 
was a Proteftant, and I encourag d her, told her 
he was a Proteftant, and a very fober good Man. 

Mar. 



2 37 

Mar. Slff. I fuppofe. Sir, you did not fay pofi- 
tively that you were lure he was a Proteftant, but 
that you believed fo. 

Fa* I aflured her fo much of its being my Opini 
on, that I told her (he need not fear it ; and (he a- 
gain left it all to me, and depended upon me; and 
it is I that have betrayed and deluded her : In (hort, 
I have fold my Child, and the Peace of her Life, for 
the Toys and fine Things of Italy ; 1 have undone 
her , it is all owing to my being unconcerned for 
her better Part, 

Eld. Sift. Dear Father, do not take the Weight 
of it fo much upon your felf; jny Sifter knows it was 
her Duty to have made a farther Search into it, and 
I preft her to ic in time, and with allpoffi bio Impor 
tunity. 

Fa. Child, you did right ; and I believe flie de- 
figned to follow your Directions ; but what Affif- 
tance did I give to her? How did I damp that Refo- 
lution, when I flopM her Mouth, by telling her, 
that I dar d to fay he was a Proteftant ? (he trufted 
to my Afifurances, nay, (he * told me that (he did 
fo. 

Eld. Sift. But Sir, notwithftanding all this Dif- 
courfe, (for flie told me every Word from time to 
time) I urg d her a great many Times, and told her 
my Thoughts ; for I fufpe&ed him from the begin 
ning, and I laboured to convince her, that flie ought 
to foe with her own Eyes, and to talk plainly and 
openly to him of it. 



f Here the Father repeats to her the Difcourfe between 
him and his Daughter, mentioned at the beginning of this 
Dialogue, continuing to reproach himfelf ivith betraying 
his Child. 

Fa* Did 



Fa. Did fhe not tell you that her Father had 
Cured her he was a Proteftant, and that he trufted 
to that ? 

Eld. Sift. She was more juft to you, Sir, than to 
fay that you afTured her of it, but die repeated your 
very Words, that you faid, you believed /&gt;, and dare 
fay be was; and I told her plainly, that it was evi 
dent from your Words, that you only fpoke your 
Opinion, and that fhe ought not therefore to call 
that a pofitive AfTurance to be depended upon : In 
deed, Sir, I was very plain with her ; /lie has no 
body to blame but herfelf I told her * 

Fa. She has herfelf indeed been to blame for want 
of Reflection upon your feafonable Perfuafions, My 
Dear-t and you aded a faithful Part to her : But 
had I been as faithful to her, who was obliged in 
Duty to have done it, and on whom fhe depended, 
as you were, who had no Obligation but from 
your Affections, I had delivered my Child from 
Ruin. 

Eld. Si&. I cannot fay, Sir, you had delivered 
her ; Ihe feem d refolved to have him; her Eyes were 
dazzled with the gay Things fhe exped:ed,and unlefs 
you had positively refufed your Confent, I fear Re 
ligion had not Hold enough of her Thoughts to have 
balanced her Love of Vanity. 

Fa. But I have been perfectly carelefs of it, and 
have not done the Duty of my Place ; I ought to have 
not only informed and advifed her, but to have in 
quired into the Circumftances of the Perfon my felf, 
and have reftrained her. 



* Here /he repeats all her former Difcourfe with her 
Sifter. 



Eld. 



Eld. Sift. I am forry for her, but I think you re 
flect on your felf too feverely, Sir j to be fure you 
did not know that he was a Papift, neither had you 
any Sufpicion of it, but (he had ; for I put the Sufpi- 
cion into her Head, and earneftly prefs d her to fa- 
tisfy herfelf about it from himfelf. 

Fa. My Dear, I have been always too carelefs 
in thefe Things : I remember the Cafe of your 
Sifter here, and cannot but reflect how when in a 
Paflion I told her it was none of my Bufinefs, my 
own Heart ftruck me with Reproach ,- for I knew 
it was my Duty : I wifli this poor Child had been 
as ftri&lt;5t and as nice in that Matter as her Sifter was, 
tho I took it ill then, I fee now fhe was in the right 
of it. 

Eld. Sift. You afflict your felf, Sir, for a Cafe 
that iflued well ; and where, if you were in the 
wrong, there were no bad Confequences , whereas 
in this Cafe, where the bad Confequences have 
happened, you are no way the Caufe, tis ail her 
own doing. 

Fa. But as it is an Affliction to me, and that you 
may be fure it is, Providence feems to fhew me my 
Sin, by my Punifhment ; I acknowledge I was in 
the wrong before, and it is not owing to my Pru 
dence or Concern that your Sifter was not ruin d : 
Befides, every Father that has a due Concern for 
the Souls of his Children, will certainly inquire 
narrowly into the Principles as well as Morals of 
the Perfons they match them to. 

In a word, their Father affli&ed himfelf fo much 
and fo long upon this Matter, that his two Daugh 
ters were obliged to drop their Concern for their 
Sifter, and apply all the Skill they had to comfort 
their Father : He was fo overwhelmed with it, that 
it threw him into a deep Melancholy, and that in 
to 



2 4 

to a Fit of Sicknefs, which, tho he recovered, yet 
he did net in a long time thorowly enjoy himfelf; al 
ways charging and reproaching himfelf with having 
ruin d his Child, having regarded nothing but the 
outfide of Things, and referring ail her Happinefs 
to a plentiful Fortune, and a gay extravagant way 
of Living. 

This went on fome time ; the eldeft Daughter, 
who was left with the Father, managed Things fo 
prudently, that no Notice of thefe Things was ta 
ken in the Family, and her Father readily agreed 
with both his Daughters, that it was by no means 
proper to let their Sifter know what they had dif- 
covered ; concluding, that whenever (he difcoverM 
it herfelf, (he would come Home with a fad Heart^ 
and make her Complaint to them faft enough. 

But they were all miftaken in their Sifter ; for 
tho* fhe difcover d the Thing, and liv d a melancholy 
Life with her Husband upon that Occafion, yet in 
eight Years that fhe liv d with him, (he never com 
plained, or made her Sorrows known to any of her 
Relations, but carried it with an even fteddy Tem 
per, and bore all her Griefs in her own Breaft, as 
fhall be feen at large in the next Dialogue. 

The End of the Second Dialogue. 







DIA- 



[ 241 ] 



D I A L O G U E III. 




H E new marry d Couple, of whom we 
have been fpeaking, liv d in all the Splen 
dor and Greatnefs that the higheft degree 
of private Perforts admits of, and which 
a Family poffefs d of an immenfe Wealth, could 
be fuppofed to do ; he was not only very rich 
when he marry d her, as might be fuppofed by 
the noble Furniture of his Houfe, and his very 
valuable Collection of Pictures and Rarities, and 
the like, of which mention has been made, but as 
he fell privately into a great Affair of remitting 
Money by way of England to Genoa, for Supply of 
the French Armies in Italy, he got that way a pro 
digious Sum of Money ; and yet ading only by 
Correfpondents at AmfierdqnL he was liable to no 
Refentment or Objections from the Government 
here. 

After he had lived thus about eight Years, and 
in that Time had fix Children by this young Lady, 
he died ; fhe had four of her fix Children living : 
But their Father, after having in vain tried all the 
Perfuafions, Arguments and Intreaties (for he was 
too good a Husband, and, too much a Gentleman 
to life any other Method) to bring his Wife over 
to the Roman Church, left her however under 
this terrible Affliction, that having difpcfcd of his 

R vaft 



vaft Eflatc in a very honourable manner, as well 
to her as to her Children, yet he took the Educa 
tion of her Children from her, leaving them to the 
Tuition of Guardians Co brinj* them up in the 
Roman Religion : Nor was this the Effed of his 
Unkindnefs to her ^ for except in Difputes about 
thefe Things, they never had any Difference 
worth the Name of a Difpute in their Lives , and 
at his Death he left to her ov/n Difpofal above fix 
times the Fortune (he brought him ; but this of 
his Children was a mere Point of Confcience to 
him, which he could not difpenfe with : This was 
an inexpreffible Grief to her, and that fuch, and 
fo heavy, as it is impoflible to reprefent it in this 
narrow Tra&, fo as to fay how far it afflicted her, 
or what ill Confequences attended it , the Drift 
and Defign of this Work alfo lying quite another 
way, i//&. to ihew the Manner of Life, which 
naturally attends the bell Matches, where the re 
ligious Principles of the Husband and Wife are 
not the fame. 

The eldeft Sifter was now marry d alfo, and 
marry 3 d .very happily and comfortably; the Prin 
ciples as well as Pradice of her Husband not only 
concurred intirely with her own, but anfwer d 
in a moft agreeable Manner to the Character which 
was given to her Father of him, ^7. That he was 
a Perfon truly religious. 

Their Father, now grown old, had been a true 
Penitent for his Miflakes in the paft Condud of his 
Children, and had fully made up his want of Care 
in his middle Daughter s Match, by his Difficulty 
in being pleafed for his eldeft : She needed no Con 
cern for, or to fliew any Nicety in examining into the 
Perfon, for her Father was fo very nice for her, that 
fcarce any thing could pleafe him ; he rejected feve- 
rai very good Offers, merely on accpunt of religious 

Prin- 



t 



Principles, and put them off without fo much as 
naming them to his Daughter, till at !aft fixing 
upon a Merchant in the City, who both for So 
briety, Piety, Opinion in Religion, and Eftate, 
fluted every way both his own Defires and his 
Daughter s Judgment, the Match, under fuch Cir- 
cumftances, was foon made : The uninterrupted 
Felicity this young Lady enjoyed, in having the 
beft Husband, the beft Chriftian, and the beft tern- 
per d Man in the World, all in one, made her the 
happieft Woman alive, and indeed recommended 
the Caution fhe had always ufed in her Choice, 
by its Succefs. 

Her Father liv d with this Daughter, when he 
was in Town, but otherwife liv d in Oxfordshire, 

with his own Sifter, the Lady- - Widow of 

Sir James ~ of whom Mention is made in 
the firft Part of this Work : He lived very eafy, 
having thus feen his Family all fettled ; for his two 
Sons were very well nVd abroad, the one at Leg* 
horn, and the other at Cadiz, ; arid he might really 
be faid to have no Affliction in the World but that 
of his middle Daughter, who, tho by far the richeft 
and moft profperous in Circumftances, and lived [in 
the moft Splendor of all the reft, yet he efteemed 
really miferable ; and fo indeed in one Senfe (he was* 
He was at Dinner one Day at his eldeft Daugh 
ter s Houfe, his youngeft Daughter] being cafually 
there alfo, when, while they Were at Table, Let 
ters came from the Bath* where his middle Daughter 
was gone with her Husband, to acquaint them, that 
her Husband, after an Indifpofition of no more thatf 
five Days, was dead : It furpriz d them all ; for they 
had not fo much as heard that he was ill ; and his 
Diftemper being a Pleurify, it was exceeding vio 
lent, and carried him off very quickly. When their 
Father read the Letter, he was extremely furpriz d, 
R 2 ami 



[ 244- 1 

and rifing up from the Table haftily, Poor Child ! 
faid he, God has delivered 7;er, but it is by a fad Stroke : 
His Daughters got up from Table terribly frighted, 
when they faw the Diforder their Father was in, 
not knowing what the Matter was , but he per 
ceiving it, turned about fuddenly, and faid, Tom 
Sifter* is a Widow, and threw down the Let 

ter : At this they fat down again all furpriz d, and 
indeed fenfibly afRi&ed ; for, excepting his Reli 
gion, which was not all that while made publick, 
he was a moft obliging Relation to them all. 

I purpofely pafs over here the Incidents that may 
be fuppofed to happen in the Family on fo fad 
an Occafion ; fuch as the Lady s coming up from 
the Bath, the Concern of the Father and Sifters to 
comfort her ; the Difpofal of herfelf, and the Ma 
nagement of her Affairs ; haftning to the main Sto 
ry, -Z//Z,. The Account (he gave of her Life paft, and 
of what (he had gone thro in the eight paft Years 
of her marry d State, upon the particular Occafion 
of her Husband s being of a differing Religion. 

It was fome Months after her Husband s Death, 
and v/hen all her Affairs were in a fettled Pofture, 
that fhe went to divert her Thoughts a little, and 
tmbend her Mind from the Sorrows flie had been 
under, for fhe was a fincere Mourner for her Husband; 
I fay, it was fome Months after his Death, that 
her younger Sifter having invited her down to her 
Seat in Hampjhire^ fhe went thither, and her Fa 
ther and eldeft Sifter, at her Requeft, went all 
with her. 

Here, upon cafual difcourfing of things paft, her 
Father who wasalmoft ever bemoaning his Negleft 
in expofing his Children, threw out fome Words, 
Xvhich firft gave her to underftand that both he and 
her Sifters knew her Husband was not a Proteftanr^ 
a: which fhe feemed very much furpriz d : But as 






. 

fhe found it was known, and that however it was 
flil! fo far a Secret, as that it had gone no farther 
than their own Breafts, (he was foon made eafy ; 
Hie then made a Confidence of it, earneftly intreat- 
ing them that it might go no farther, which they 
willingly promifed for her Satisfaction. 

But this open d the Door for Variety of Confe 
rences among them, as particularly her Sifters told 
her, how they difcover d it firft, and afterwards 
their Father j and repeated all the Difcourfes they 
had had about it, and how, and for what Reafoi* 
they had refolved never to mention it to her, un- 
lefs (he fpoke firft of it , concluding that perhaps 
he might conceal it from her, and they would be 
very loch to difcover a Thing to her, which they 
knew could have no other Confequence at that 
Time, but to ruin and afRict her: Alas Sifter! fays 
/lie, I difcover d it within a Fortnight after I came 
home. 

Ay ! fays her yowigeft Sifter, you had a good Go 
vernment of your felf to refrain unbofoming to 
fome of us ; efpecially confidering my Sifter here, 
(meaning her eldeft Sifter) had been fo ferious with 
you upon that very Head before you were married. 
Dear Sifter, fays the Widow, to what purpofe is it 
for any Woman, when (he is marry d, to complain 
of her Difappointrnents, which (he knows (he can 
not mend ? 

To. Sift. That s true, my Dear, but who is there 
can deny themfelves that Eafe to their Grief? 

WiA. Alas ! Complaining is but a poor Eafe to 
fuch Sorrows ; tis like Sighing, which relieves 
the Heart one Moment, and doubly loads it the 
next. 

To. Sift. Well, Sifter, feeing you had fo intire a 

Maftery over your felf in that Part, and you 

brought the Dominion of your Reafon over your 

R 3 Paffions 4 



Paflions, to fo perfect an Exercife, which is what 
I confefs I muft admire you for ; I fay, feeing you 
mafter d your felf fo well that way, I am oblig d 
to think, you mafter d your felf as well within 
Doors ; and with good Conduft perhaps you made 
it no Inconvenience to you : I wifh you would let 
us hear how you managed, that we may fee, per 
haps, difference of Opinion may be fo manag d as 
to make no Breaches in a Family, and it might be 
as well as if it had been otherwife. 

Wid. No, no ! Sifter, don t fanfy fo : Our dear 
Mother was wifer than fo, and you were all wifer 
than I, to lay fo much ftrefs upon it as you did } I 
am a Convert now to my Mother s Inftmdions, 
tho it be too late to help it. 

To. Sjft. Why Mr.-* and you liv d mighty eafy ; 
you were always mighty well with one another I 
thought. 

Wid. It was impoflible to be ill with him, he was 
of fo excellent a Temper : But this makes my Cafe 
perfectly inftruding to others, and proves effedu- 
ally, that no Goodnefs of the Difpofition, no Ex- 
cefs of Affedioo, no prudent Compliances, tho 
they make the Cafe rather better than worfe, can 
yet make up, no not in the leaft, or any way ba 
lance the inexprefllble Deficiency that fuch a Breach 
in religious Matters makes in a Family. 

Fa. Ay, ay, my Dear, I fee it now, with a fad 
Heart, l&gt;ut it was far from any of my Thoughts 
then ,- you, owe all the Mifery of it to my Negled. 

Wid. Sir, I dare fay, you did not miftruft it ; I 
remember you faid, he had always been aProteftans 
when you was at Leghorn, and that you knew he 
was bred fo. 

Fa A), my Dear; but it was my Bufinefs to 
have inquir d farther into it ; I might eafily have 
known it, if I had inquir d , for feveral Merchants 

told 



C 47 3 



told mp afterwards of it, but I laid no Strefs upon 
it ; inflmty I did not confider the Confequences. 

To. Sift. There is no need to afflict your felf now, 
Sir, about it ; my Sifter is deliver d another way, 
Sir, and the Thing is over. 

Fa. But I am a Warning to all Parents, that have 
the Good of their Children at heart ,- never to 
make light of fuch Things, but fearch them to the 
bottom ": and the more their Children depend upon 
them, the greater is their Obligation to be very 
careful. 

To. Sift. Well, my Sifter is delivered from it all now. 

Wid. It s a fad Deliverance, Sifter ,- and it s a 

dreadful Cafe to be fo marry d, as that the Death 

of a Husband fhould be counted a Deliverance , 

and efpecially of a good Husband too. 

To. Sift. I do believe he was a good Husband in 
deed, that one Particular excepted , but that was 
a terrible Circumftance, and would have made 
the beft Husband in the World a bad Husband 
to me. 

tPid. Ay, Child, and fo it did to me in fome 
Cafes, tho he was otherwife the beft humour d 
Man, and the beft Husband imaginable.^ 

To. Sift. No queftion, there was fome Uneafmefs 
at firft, but it teems you got over it , I wifh you 
would tell us, Sifter, how you manag d the firft 
Difcovery between you. 

Wid. Truly, Sifter, the Uneafinefs was not fo 
much at firft as at laft, and had weliv d longer to 
gether, it muft of Necefllty have grown worfe, 
e{pecially as the Children grew up ? 

To. Sjft. Indeed there you might have come to 
clafh in Matters very elTential to your Peace. 

Wid. Might have clafh d, do you fay ! indeed, 

Sifter, we muft have clafh d : It was unavoidable, 

(t could not be, that I could be eafy to have the 

R 4 Children. 



[248] 



Children bred Papifts, or that he could have been 
eafy to have them bred, as he called it&gt; Hereticks. 

To* Sift. It was impoffible indeed ,- and the more 
you were both fettled and ferious in your Opinions, 
the more impoffible it would be for you to yield 
that Point to one another, 

Wid. Why you know, Sifter, Mr.- was a 

very ferious grave Man ; and I affure you, in his 
Way he was very devout ; and this made his yield- 
Ing to me fometimes to be very difficult to him ; he 
had very ftrong Struggles between his Principles 
and his Aftedion. 

Eld, S//7. Dear Siller, it is always fo where there 
are differing Opinions between a Man and his Wife ; 
the more zealous and confcientious they are in 
their feveral Ways, the more difficult it is for them 
to yield thofe Points up to one another, which 
Kindnefs and Affe&ion may incline them to give 
up : But pray give us a little Account of your firfl 
Difputes about thefe Things. 

Wid. Tis a fad Story, Sifter, and will bring 
many grievous Things to remembrance. 

Eld. Sift- I fhould be very unwilling to impofe fo 
Irkfome a Task upon you ? but I think it will be 
very mftru&ing to us all. 

Wid. Why it was not much above a Fortnight 
after we came Home, as I obferved to you, before 
I difcover d it, and the Manner was thus : I won- 
der d that every Sabbath-day my Spoufe contriv d 
fome Excufe or other to avoid going to Church 
with me ; I had taken fome Notice of it, before we 
\vent home, but the fecond Sabbath-day I took up 
on me to defire him to go } he feem d not to deny 
me, and went into the Coach with me, but pre 
tended a fudden Thought, that he was oblig d to 
go up to St. James s ; and having very civilly hand 
ed me out of the Coach, and gone with me into 

the 



249 

the very Place, made a light Bow, when I could 
not ftand to perfuade, and went back. 

6Y/?. What did he take the Coach too, and leave 
you to come Home on Foot ? ^ 

Wid. No, no , he never fhew d me fo little Re- 
fpect as that; he went but as far asTemfle-Bar in 
the Coach, and fent it back, charging the Coach 
man to go and wait for his Miftrefs, which he did: 
This however troubled me a little, and I began to 
be uneafy, tho I knew not for what. 

Sift. Why, my Dear, did nothing occur to your 
Thoughts, as it did to ours, about his Pictures/ his 
Crucifixes, Altar-pieces, and fuch Things ? 

Wid* No, not at all : I had heard my Father fay 
it was the Fafhion in Italy ; and it being fo remote 
from my Thoughts to imagine any thing of what 
was the real Cafe ; I had indeed no Thoughts at all 
about it, till the following Affair alarm d me. I 
was with him one Day in his Clofet, and viewing 
his fine Things, the Pictures, Imagery and other 
Rarities, of which he had abundance, and fome 
Pieces of Antiquity, that are of very great Value ; 
he was mighty bufy, and pfeas d in (hewing me 
Things, and telling me what they were ; for then 
they were as new to me almoft, as they were to you : 
at lafl I went into the little Room within his Clo 
fet, and look d upon all the fine Things there, 
where you know, Sifter, there are abundance of 
valuable Pieces of Paintings. 

Sift. Yes, indeed tis a charming Place. 

Wid. Upon the Table there flood two fine Silver 
Candlefticks gilded, with large Wax-Candles in 
them : My Dear, fays /, like an innocent Fool, 
thefe Candlefticks are very fine, I think they are 
much finer than any we have about the Houfe. My 
Dear, fays be, if you had rather have them in your 
Clofet, than to let them ftand here, they fhall be 

removed i 



removed : No, my Dear, faid /, if we fhould want 
them upon an extraordinary Occafion, tis but bor 
rowing them of you : We faid no more of that then, 
but the next Day he fent me in from a Goldfmith s 
in Drury-Lane two Pair of Candlefticks larger and 
finer than thefe, of very curious Workmanlhip, and 
all the high embofs d Work double-gilt. 

To. Sift. So you had no need to grudge him thofe 
he ufed in his Clofet any more. 

Wid. No indeed : But to go on : After I had 
donefpeaking af the Candlefticks, I laid my Hands 
upon a large Piece of Crimfon Damask, which 
feemed to cover fomething that flood upon the Ta 
ble, and {landing up about feven or eight Inches 
high in the middle, look d as if there were feveraS 
Things together ; and going to turn it up, I faid, 
"what is under here, my Dear ? But added with a 
Smile, and thinking nothing of the matter, may I 
look ? He fmil d a little, but laying his Hand upon 
it too, faid, I had rather not, my Dear ; they are 
Things I brought from Italy, but nothing of Orna 
ment. Well, well, fays I, let it lie ; I don t de- 
fire to look, not I, and immediately turn d to look 
at a Pi&ure that hung near me, and ail this while 
I was fo dull as to perceive nothing. 

Eld. S/ft. Your Curiofity was not much it feems. 

Wid* Innocence fufpeds no body; but a ft range 
Turn in his Countenance gave me an Alarm, which 
I was not a ware of; for there was a vi(ible Hurry 
and Confufion in his Face, when he laid his Hands 
upon the piece of Damask to prevent my taking it 
up ,- and on a fudden, when I fo eafily and uncon 
cernedly pafs d it off, all that Chagrin went off of 
his Countenance in a Moment, and he was as bright 
and asgood-humour d again as ever , and this made 
me think afterwards that there was fomething in it 
more than ufual. 

Eli Sift* 



Eld, Sift. You muft have been very dull, if you had 
not, feeing you perceived fuch a double Alteration ; 
and this would have heightned my Defire to inquire 
farther into it. 

Wid. Perhaps it did fo too in me ; but I faw evi 
dently he was concern d j and why Ihould I make 
him uneafy ? I could have pafs d a hundred fuch 
Things by, and have reftrain d my Curiofity while 
I had no Sufpicion. 

Eld. Sift, Well, but what was this to the Cafe ? it 
feems here was no Difcovery then, 

Wid. Yes, here was a Difcovery too, as it pre- 
par dfor farther Obfervation : I told you, that the 
next Day he fent me Home two pair of Candle- 
flicks, which were indeed very fine, and as I was 
admiring them, I defir d to have the other fetch d 
down to compare them with; upon which he made 
fome Difficulty, and faid, he could not trufl a Ser 
vant to go into his Clofet alone, where Things of 
Confequence lay about , but, my Dear^ fays he, we 
will go up and match them. 

Eld. Sift. Well, that Reafon was juft enough. 

Wid. It was fo $ and I went up with him into 
his Clofet, but not into the inner Room , but I ob- 
ferv d juft when heflept in, he made an extraordina 
ry low Bow towards that Place where the Candle- 
flicks flood : Indeed I took no notice of it at firft, 
for I verily thought he had ftoop d for fome thing, 
but when he carry d the Candlefticks in again he 
did the fame, and that gave me feme Thought. 

To. Sift. That was a Difcovery indeed. 

Wid. No really it was not yet.,- for I was a per 
fect Stranger to any of their Popifh Ceremonies, I 
fcarce underflood it when I was told: But how 
ever it gave me fome Idea of this being an extra 
ordinary Place, tho I did not know what , and, I 
very innocently ask d him this foolifh laughing 

Queftion ; 



[2*2 ] 

Queftion ; My Dear, you are mighty mannerly to 
your empty Rooms, you bow as if the King was 
there ; he put it off with a Smile, and an Anfwer 
that was indeed according to Solomon y Anfwer a 
Fool in bis Folly., My Dear, fays -he, tis our Cuftom 
In Italy. 

Eld. Sift He was no Fool , what he faid was very 
true. 

Wid. Well, even all this while, and farther, I was 
ftill blind } for a little while after I pufh d into the 
fame Place with him, not out of Curiofity, but 
meerly by Chance , but tho the piece of Crimfon 
Damask lay upon the Table, yet there was nothing 
under it, nor did he make any Bow as before. 

To. Sift. No, my Dear, there was no need of it 
then ; for to be fure the Idol was remov d. 

Wid. Well, however, as that was more than I 
knew, it caus d all my former Hefitationsand Ob- 
fervations to vanilh, till they were renewed again 
upon the following Occafion : He was taken ill 
one Evening, in a Manner that alarm d me very 
much, and we were obliged to get him to Bed with 
all fpeed; but juft as he was undrefTmg by the Bed- 
fide, he ftarted up in a kind of a Rapture, and pul 
ling a firing which drew back a Curtain, he caft up 
his Eyes towards a Pi&ure that hung there, and faid 
forne Words which I did not underftand, and I 
perceive he crofs d himfelf two or three times on the 
Bread, and then flept into Bed. 

Fa. To one, that had liv d in Italy, this had been 
po Novelty at all. 

Wid. No, Sir, I underftand it well enough now, 
but I did not then ; however it was fo plain then, 
that it needed no Explanation to me ; but it was 
fuch a Surprize to me, that I thought .1 fhould 
have fainted ; my Heart funk within me, and with 
a Sigh, faid I to my felf, O Lord ! I am undone ! I 

thought 



thought I had fpoken fo foftly, that nothing could 
have overheard me , but yet fo unhappy was my 
Paflion, that he heard the laft .Words, and raifing 
his Voice, My Dear, fays he haftily, what s the mat 
ter ? what art thou undone for ? I made him no An- 
fwer, which increas d his Eagernefs to know what 
ail d me, but I declin d it : At laft, he prelfing me 
ftill, lanfwer d, My Dear, excufe me for the pre- 
fent, I am a little frighted ; with which he rings 
a little Bell, that I us d to ring for my Woman, and 
fhe being but in the next Room, came running in ; 
I bad her fetch me a little Bottle out of my Clofet, 
and taking a few Drops, rather by a Counterfeit 
Illnefs than a real, put an end to his Inquiry, and 
got him to fleep. 

Eld. Sift. I fhould e en have charg d him with it 
downright, and have rav d at him for a Rogue, that 
had cheated and deluded me. 

Wid. Indeed, Sifter, I did not dofo; Iwasop- 
prefs d with the Terror of it, and the Difappoint- 
ment , but my Affection ftept in the way of all Re- 
fentment; I lov d him tenderly; and befides, it was 
not a time for it ; for he was really very ill, and 
thought he fhould have dy d ; it was a Spice or Tafte 
of the fame Diftemper that did at laft kill him, for 
it was a Pleurify ;. and after he had flept a little, he 
wak d again in fuch a Condition, that frighted all 
the Houfe, and we were forc d to fetch a Surgeon 
out of his Bed to let him Blood. 

Sift. Well, that relieved him I hope. 

Wid. Yes it did ; but I name it to tell you a Cir~ 
cumftance which attended it : We had in the Houfe 
an old Man, an Italian, whom he always kept in the 
Counting-houfe to copy his Letters,and tranflate his 
Italian Accounts, and for fuch other Bufinefs as he 
implov d him in } and they call d him Doctor : 
The Surgeon we had fent for, being in Bed, did 

not 



[ 254 1 

ttot come time enough, and he grew black and def- 
perately ill, which frighted me exceedingly- and 
when he faw I was under a Surprize, he made Signs 
(for he could notffeak to be ttndtrftood, he wasfo bad) to 
call up the old Italian: When he came into the 
Room, he held out his Arm, and pointing at it with 
his Finger, every one might underftand that he 
meant he fhould let him blood, upon which, imme 
diately the old Man call d for things proper, and I 
found he had a Launcet in his Pocket : I ask d him if 
he had been us d to it, he faid, yes, Madam, I have 
let him blood feveral times before now : In a word, 
he open d a Vein, and it gave him Eafe, and he re- 
cover d foon after. 

Fa. I ll lay a hundred Pound, then, that Doctor 
isaPrieft. 

Wid. Yes, Sir, he is fo ; and I knew it quickly 
after. 

Fa. And after he knew that you underftood it, 
did he not befiege you with his Difcourfes and Im 
portunities, my Dear, to turn ? 

Wid. No really ; at leaft not fo, as I believe is 
ufual, he frequently let fall fome Words about it, but 
with great Modefiy i for he was really a very good 
fort of a Man, exceeding retired and devout ; very 
mannerly and refpeftful ; he fpoke once at Table, (for 
fometimes my Spoufe would ask me to let him fup 
with us) and we had been talking very chearfully, 
when the Dodor faid fomething in Italian to his 
Mafter, but gave me plain Reafons to know, that he 
defired I fhould know w r hat he faid ; upon which 
my Spoufe faid to me, My Dear, what do you 
think the Doctor fays? I don t know, but I am 
fure tis about me : Yes, fays he, fo it is ; and he 
fays, I muft tell you what it is, or elfe you will think 
he is unmannerly to fpeak any thing in a Language 
you do not nnderftand: Well, pray, faid I, what is 

it 



l&gt;55 ] 



it he fays? What Pity it is, faid my Spoufe, fucha 
fine Genius as my Lady Wife is fhoiild not be with 
in the Pale of the Catholick Church? While my 
Spoufe was telling me this, he look d very earneftly 
at him, to obferve when he repeated the Words, and 
juft as he had repeated them, the good old Father 
lift up his Eyes, and faid fome Words foftly, but 
with great Appearance of Serioufnefs, which, it 
feems was, to pray to Chrift to convert me; and 
my Spoufe looldng very ferioufly too, crofs d him 
felf and faid Amen. 

To. Sift. This was dangerous Work indeed, Sifter ; 
for the more ferious they were in it, the more it 
would have affeded me. 

. Wid. Indeed fo it did me ; I anfwerM my Huf- 
band, My Dear, I hope I am ; and if I thought I 
was not, I would not fleep till I was ; at which the 
Doftor, my Spoufe repeating the Words to him 
fhook his Head, and faid, No, no! fignifying, that 
to be fure I was not ,- and added, he hop d God 
would hear his Prayers for me ; but this was the 
moft that ever he ofter d that way. 

Fa. Well, that was nothing, but what any Man 
who thought himfelf in the right, might do, and 
very modeftly too. 

Wid. Indeed he always kept himfelf rather at a 
greater diflance than we defired. 

To. Sift. Well, but pray go back to the Story. 

Wid. Why I told you my Husband recovered from 
his Illnefs, but it was otherwife with me ; for being 
now fully fatisfy d that my Spoufe was a Papift, it 
caft me down to that degree, and overwhelmed my 
Spirits, that I was fcarce able to bear it; and efpe- 
cially for want of fome body to lodge my Thoughts 
with, and open my Soul to. 

Eld, Sift, 



Eld. Sift. Why did you not charge him with it 
point blank ? Did he not perceive your Diforder ? 

Wid. He did to be fure, and prefs d me with the 
utmoft Tendernefs and Importunity^ to let him 
know what griev d me. 

Eld. Sift. Ay, and I fhould have told him of it in 
his Ears. 

Wid. Dear Sifter, you are too tender a Wife your 
felf, not to know, that where there is a (Incere Af 
fection, even the higheit Refentment expreffes it 
felf in the fofteft Terms : I could afflict my felf free 
ly, but I could not think of afflicting him ; and tho 
I do acknowledge I thought my felf ill treated, yet 
I could not ufe him ill in return. 

Sift. Come, tell us what you faid to him. 

Wid. Why, when heprefs d me to let him know 
what difturb d me, I told him, I had rather bear my 
Grief than complain to him ; that 1 was too fen- 
fibie he knew what I meant , when I faid I was un 
done; and I beg d him not to oblige me to blame 
him, for not having been juft to me : Why, My 
Dear &gt; fays he, why are you undone, if your Opini 
on in Religion and mine may. differ? Muft it af 
fect our Love ? Cannot we be dear to one another 
without entring into Difputes of that kind ? Yes, 
faid I, my Dear, I know better than to enter into 
Difputes with you ; but I muft reckon my felf un 
done for all that : Tears ftopt my very Breath for 
a w r hile, for this was an open Acknowledgment of 
his Profefllon ; and I would fain have flatter d my 
felf fo much, as to hope there was yet fome room 
to have thought my felf miftaken : When he faw me 
fo overwhelmed, he came to me, and took me in 
bis Arms, and faid all the kind things it is poflible 
to think of, to pacify me: My Dear, fays he, tho 
you may think this a Grief to you, expect to have 
it made up abundantly, by all that it is poflible for 

Man 



C 



Man to do to oblige you ; and indeed if all the af- 
fedionate Tilings a Man could fay or do, could 
make it up, it was made up to me ; if ic was pof- 
flble for a Man to do any thing to make a Woman 
forget her Difappointment, he did it ; and this 
from a Man too, who had a perfect Underftand- 
ing of every thing that could oblige and engage 
the Affe&ions : In a word, no -Man could do 
more, or Woman defire more, to make up the 
Lofs. 

Eld* Sift. Well Sifter, and pray tell me, did it 
do ? was it fully made up to you ? Is it poffible that 
two can be happy in the Condition of Man and 
Wife, w here Opinions in Religion differ ? You have 
had the Experience of it to be fure in its bed For 
tune, with all the Advantages imaginable : Now be 
plain, and tell us, is it poflible the conjugal Felicity 
can be compleat ? Was our dear Mother in the right 
or no, Sifter ? 

Wid. Indeed, Sifter, you put hard upon me, be- 
caufe I know I too much flighted my Mother s In 
junctions; and I remember I jefted with you about 
it, but I paid for the Experiment. 

Eld. Sift. Dear Sifter, thofe things are forgotten 
long ago; I did not intend to reflect upon them ; but 
I ask upon a ferious Account, I affure you. 

Wid. Why truly, Sifter, I muft acknowledge it is 
impoffible : I fay again, I find by fad Experience, it 
isimpoflible : No Kindnefs, no Tendernefs, no Af 
fection can make it up ; the Condition can never be 
happy, God faithfully ferved, Children rightly edu 
cated, the Mind perfectly eafy, or the Duty of the 
Relation faithfully performed, where the Opinions 
in Religion differ. 

Eld. Sift. I am of Opinion alfo, that it would 
have been the fame, tho your Differences had not 
been fo great as that of Papift and Proteftant. 

S Wid, 



2$8 



Whl. Ay, ay, all one! For we never entred into 
the Queftion about our Principles ; I refolv d it 
from the beginning, to avoid bringing on any thing 
that might be unkind or di (obliging between us, 
and he approv d it, and did the fame for the fame 
Reafon ; fo that I never, after the firft Difcourfe, fo 
much as inquired uhat his Opinion was,- it was 
fufficient to have the Grief that we could not wor- 
fhip God together, either abroad or at home ,- we 
could not think of one another with Charity, but 
as deceived Perfons, out of the way of eternal 
Felicity, out of God s Bleffing and Protection ; 
we could not look upon one another but with 
Sighs and fad Hearts : Again, we could never 
converfe with one another upon religious Subjects, 
for we could not enter upon the lead ferious thing, 
but it led us into Contradictions and wild diftrac- 
ted Notions, which we were immediately forc d to 
take the Help of our Affections to fupprefs, that 
we might not break out into Indecencies to one ano 
ther. 

To. Sift. Well, Sifter^ and what became of your 
fmart Anfwers to my Sifter-, when Ihe and 
you talk d of thefe Things, viz,. That if he was not 
of your Opinion, you would be of his,- that if he 
was a ChrifHan Catholick, you was a Catholick 
Chriftian ; and fo you would have no Difference a- 
bout that. 

Wid. Why truly, Sifter, I was young, and did 
not confider what I faid ; and befides I did not in 
the leaft fufpect what my Sifter fuggefted ; and yet 
fo far I have kept up to it, we have, by the help 
of abundance of good Humour on his fide, and a 
great deal of Love on both fides, avoided Differ 
ences and Difputes upon that Subject : But alas ! 
Sifter, that s but a Negative, and it can only be 
faid we did not quarrel, which is a great deal to fay 

too i 



too ; but what s this to a happy Life ? How was oitr 

Family guided, our Children educated, and how 

would they have been educated, if he had liv d? 

and how w as God worfhipp d ? he and his Prieft at 

their Mafs in the Oratory or Chapel ,- I, and my 

little unhappy Babies in my Chamber and Clofet 3 

where I mourn d over them continually (rather 

than pray d over them) to think that fome time or 

other they fhould be fnatch d from me, and brought 

up in Popery ; nor would it have been much other- 

wife, if he had been of any other irreconcileable 

Opinion ; for, as I told you before, thol knew his 

Opinion, I never ask d it ,- for any Opinion, where 

there is not a Harmony in worshipping, a joining 

in publick Prayer to God, and in joint ferving him 

in our Families, is the fame thing, only not in the 

fame Extreme. 

To. Sift. Well., but you had no private Breaches a- 
bout it &gt; 

Wid. No, never : we carefully avoided it : But 
this is but an Evidence of the dreadful Confequences 
of fuch Marriages in general : for where is there a 
Couple that can fay, as iue could, that they have had 
no Jars about it ? And what Breaches have religious 
Differences made in Families ? But if the Happinefs 
is fo little, and the evil Confequences fo many, even 
with a Husband fo exquifitely kind and obliging, 
and where a Woman cannot fay (he has any one other 
thing to complain of, what muft be the Cafe in o- 
ther Families ? 

To. Sift. But, Sifter, you hint that the longer you 
liv d, the worfe thofe Differences grew. 

Wid. Why, it was impofllble, Sifter, but as we 
grew forward, thefe things muft have come more in 
our way : We have four Children, and Mr. 
was not a Manfo indifferent in his Religion, as to 
be more carelefs about the Souls of his Children, that 

S * I 



[ 260 ] 

I aflure you ; and tho he left them intirely to my 
Management, when they were little , yet he would 
hint fometimes, that he hop d I would leave them 
free, when they grew up to choofe for themfelves, 
as God fhould enlighten them ; and that at leaft we 
iiiould both ftand neuter. 

To. Sfi. What could you fay to that ? 

Wid. I told him I could not tell how far I could 
promife that} for if I thought my felf in the right 
way to Heaven, I could but ill anfwer it to him that 
gave me my Children, to ftand ftill and fee them go 
-wrong, knd not endeavour to perfuade them (at 
leaft) to choofe better for themfelves : He told me, 
that was an Argument juft as ftrong on his fide, as 
it was on mine j and he added fmiling, How fliall 
we do then to agree, my Dear, when it comes to 
that ? I hope we fhall not love lefs than we do now. 
I told him, I hadia great many melancholy Thoughts 
about it \ and thus at laft we were always fain to 
drop the Difcourfe ; but to this Hour I cannot con 
ceive how we fhould have done to have divided our 
Childrens Inftrudion between us, if hehadliv d to 
fee them grown up. 

Fa* Weil, my Dear, God has other wife order d 
it ; and I hope the Children will have the Benefit 
of a good Inftruftion now without that Interrup 
tion. 

Wid. Alas ! Sir, I perceive you do not know their 
Cafe yet ; and this is a remaining Grief to me that 
I have not mention d. 

fa. What s that, Child ? 

Wid. Why, Sir, by his Will he has appointed the 
old Prieft, who I nam d above, to be Tutor to my 
two Sons, and has fettled his Eftate fo, that unlefs 
the Truftees bring them up Roman Catholicks, a 
great deal of the Eftate goes from them , fo that I 
am to be robb d of my Children. 

Fa. I 



[ 2&lt;Jl ] 



Fa. I am furpriz d at that ; why I never heard 
a word of it 1 And what has he done with his two 
Daughters ? 

Wid. He has left them to me. 
Pa. Did you know this before, Child ? Had you 
any Difcourfe about it before he died ? 

Wid. Yes, Sir, as much as the Violence of his 
Diftemper \vould admit ; I intreated, I perfuaded, I 
argued, as much a Tears and my opprefied Thoughts 
would allow me ; for I thought my Heart would 
have burft while I talk d to him, to fee his Condi 
tion, whom I lov d as my own Soul, and to think 
what was to befal my Children ; you can hardly con 
ceive what a Time it was to me; it wounds my 
very Spirit to look back upon it. 

Eld. Sift. It was a very bitter thing no doubt : But 
what faid he to you ? 

Wid. He begg d of me not to importune him : He 
told, me, it was far from being an Unkindnefs to 
me, but his Confcience oblig d him to it, and he 
could not die in Peace, if he did not, as far as in 
him lay, provide for the Souls of his Children. 

Fa. Why, if it was Confcience, how came it to 
pafs he did not do the like by his Daughters? 

Wid* Why, he faid, he thought I had a right to 
their Government as a half of the Family ; for, my 
Dear, fays he, we are Partners; but fays he, I in- - 
treat you, and as far as I am able to do it, injoyn 
you to it, let the poor innocent Babes be reconcil d 
to the Church, and brought up in the Catholick 
Faith ; and I hope you will in God s due time em 
brace it your felf. 

To. S/ft. What was you able to fay to him ? 

Wid. I blefs God I made no Promife about my 

Children ; nor indeed was I able to fpeak to him 

for Grief,- for he was in fuch Agonies, that my 

Heart could not hold to flay by him ; and the 

S 3 next 



[ 262 ] 

next Morning he died, and now I am a dreadful Ex 
ample of the miferable Condition of a marry d State, 
where Principles of Religion differ, tho with the belt 
Husband in the World. 

Fa. But, my Dear, do not aiRid your felf now 
about your Sons. 

Wid. Not afflid my felf, Sir! Is that poffible ? 
Fa. Yes, yes, they (hall not be bred up Papifts 
I ll affure you, for all what he has done to bring it 
to pafs. 

Wid. Alas ! Sir, they will be taken away from 
me. 

Fa* No, no j nor (hall they be taken away from 
you neither ; our Law gives you a Right to the 
bringing up your own Children j and as for the 
Dodor, I ll ingage he (hall give you no Difturbance ; 
he knows his own Circumftances, and I ll take care 
that he fhall take it for a Favour to be concealed 
here, and leave all to you. 

Wid* But then the Eftate will go from my Chil 
dren too. 

Fa. Perhaps not, neither , but if it iliould, you 
have enough for them. 

Wid. Well, that is none of my Care ; let me but 
keep them from a wrong Education, I ll willingly 
leave that Part to fall as it will. 

To. Sift. But, Dear Sifter, did Mr. never try 
you by Arguments to bring you over to him ? 

Wid* Only by all that he could ever devife , ex 
cept 9 06 I faid before : For I muft do that Juftice to his 
Memory, that he never offer d any thing that was 
rough, or threatning, or limiting, or unkind , but 
all the contrary to the higheft Extreme, 

To. Sift. That was the Effed of his extraordinary 
good Breeding, and his being fo much a Gentle* 
man. 

d. Not 



[ 



Wid. Not that altogether, Sifter, tho that might 
joyn ; but it was the Effect of an excellent Difpofiti- 
on, and of an inexpreflible Affection to me in parti 
cular ; for otherwife he was the mod zealous Man in 
his Way that ever was heard of, and thought every 
body an Enemy to him, that would not be of his own 
Opinion. 

Eld. Sift. Did he never go about to bribe you to 
it? 

Wid* O Sifter ! very frequently ; and that with 
all the Subtlety of Invention in the World ; for he was 
always giving me Prefents upon that very Account. 
Fa. Prefents to a Wife ! What do they fignify &gt; 
Tis but taking his Money out of one Pocket, and 
putting it into the other; they muft all be apprais d, 
Child, in the perfonal Eftate. 

Wid. It has been quite otherwife with him indeed, 
Sir,- for he has made it a Claufe in his Will, that all 
the Prefents he gave me (hall be my own, to beftow 
how I pleafe ; befides all the reft that he has left me 
more than he was obliged to do. 
Eld- Sift. Then they feem to be considerable. 
Wid. He has firft and laft, given me above ^ooo/. 
in Prefents, and moft of them on this very Account : 
But one was very extraordinary, I mean to that pur- 
pofe. 

Eld. Sift. I fuppofe that is your Diamond Crofs ? 
Wid. It is fo; he brought it home in a little 
Cafe, and coming into my Room one Morning 
before I was dreft, hearing I was alone, he told 
me fmiling and very pleafant, he was come to fay 
his Prayers to me : I confefs I had been a little out 
of humour juft at that time, having been full of 
fad Thoughts all the Morning about the grand 
Point, and I was going to have given him a very un 
kind Anfwer ; but his Looks had fb much Good* 
nefs and Tendernefs always in them, that when I 

S 4 look d 



look d up at him, I could retain no more Refent- 
ment: Indeed, Sifter, it was impoflibleto be angry 
with him. 

Eld. Sift. You might well be in Humour indeed, 
when he brought you a Prefent worth above fix hun 
dred Pounds. 

Wid. But I had not feen the Prefent, when what 
I am telling you paft between us. 

Eld. Sift. Wei), I ask Pardon for interrupting you ; 
pray go on where you left off, when he told you he 
was come to fay his Prayers to you. 

Wid. I told him I hop d he would not make an 
Idol of his Wife. 

Eld. Sift. Was that the ill-natur d Anfwer you 
were about to give him ? 

Wid. No indeed ; I was a going to tell him, he 
need not worfhip me, he had Idols enough in the 
Houfe. 

Eld. Sift. That had been bitter and unkind in 
deed , I hope you did not fay fo ? 

Wid* Indeed I did not ; nor would I have faid fo 
for a thoufand Pound , it would have grieved me e- 
very time I had reflected on it afterwards as long as 
I had liv d. 

Eld, Sift. It was fo very apt a Return, I dare fay 
I fhould not have brought my Prudence to have mai- 
ter d the Pleafure of fuch a Repartee. 

Wid. Dear Sifter, cis a forry Pleafure that is ta 
ken in grieving a kind Husband; befides, Sifter, as 
it was my great Mercy that my Husband ftrove con- 
flantly to make his Difference in Religion as little 
troublefome and offenfive to me as pofTible, it would 
very ill have become me to make it my Jeft *, it had 
been a kind of befpeaking the Uneafinefles which it 
was my Happinefs to avoid. 

Eld. 5/?. 



[265] 



\ 



Eld. Sift. Well, you had more Temper than I fhould 
have had, I dare fay -, but I muft own you were in 
the right : Come., pray how did you go on ? 

Wid. Why, he anfwer d, he hop d he worfhip d 
no Idols but me, and if he err d in that Point, who 
ever reprov d him, he hop d I would not. 

Eld. Sift. Why that s true too ; befides, tis not fo 
often that Men. make Idols of their Wives. 

Wid. Well, while he was faying this, he pulls out 
the Jewel, and opening the Cafe, takes a fmall Crim- 
fon String that it hung to, and put it about my Neck, 
but kept the Jewel in his Hand, fo that I could not 
fee it,- and then taking me in his Arms, fit down, 
my Dear, fays he, which I did upon a little Stool, 
then he kneeled down juft before me, and killing the 

Jewel, let it go, faying fomething in Italian^ which 
did not underftand , and then looking up in my 
Face, Now, my Dear, fays he, you are my Idol. 

Eld. Sift. Well, Sifter, cis well he is dead. 

Wid. Dear Sifter, how can you fay fuch Words 
to me ? 

Eld. Sift* He would certainly have conquer d you 
at laft. 

Wid. If the tendered and moft engaging Temper, 
the fincereft and warmeft Afte&ion in Nature could 
have done it, he would have done it, thaVs certain. 

Eld. Sift. And I make no doubt but they are the 
moft dangerous Weapons to attack a Woman s Prin 
ciples ,* I cannot but think them impoffible to refift ; 
Paffion, Unkindnefs, and all forts of conjugal Vio- 
lence,of which there is a great Variety in a marry d 
Life, are all nothing to them : You remember, Sifter, 
fome Lines on another Occafion, but very much to 
the Cafe, 

Force may indeed the Heart invade^ 
But Kindnefs only can (erfuade. 

Wid. 



[ 266 



Wid. I grant that tis difficult to refift the Influ 
ence of fo much Affection, and every thing that 
came from fo fincere a Principle, and to a Mind 
prepoflefs d with all the Sentiments of Tendernefs 
and Kindnefs poflible to be exprefs d, made a deep 
Impreffion ; but 1 thank God I flood my Ground. 

Eld. Sift. Well, well, you would not have flood it 
long I amperfuaded; and this is one of the great 
Hazards a Woman runs in marrying a Man of a 
differing Religion, or a differing Opinion from her 
felf, viz,, that her Affe&ion to her Husband is her 
worft Snare ; and fo that which is her Duty and 
her greateft Happinefs, is made the moft dangerous 
Gulph (he can fall into ; well might our dear Mo 
ther warn us from marrying Men of different Opi 
nions. 

Wid. It is very true, I acknowledge it; my 
Love was my Temptation , my Affection to my 
Husband went always neareft to ftagger my Refo- 
lution j I was in no Danger upon any other Ac 
count. 

To. Sift. Well, but pray go on about the Jewel; 
what faid you to him ? 

Wid. Truly, Sifter, I ll be very plain with you 2 
When he kifs d the Jewel on his Knees, and mut- 
ter d-as I tell you, in Italian, I was rather provok d, 
than oblig ci; and I faid, I think you are faying 
your Prayers indeed, my Dear; tell me what are 
you doing ? what did you fay ? 

To. Sift. Indeed I (hduld have been frighted. 

Wid. Dear Sifter, let me confefs to you, fine 
Prefents, flattering Words, and the affectionate 
Looks of fo obliging, fo dear, and fo.near a Rela 
tion are dreadful Things, when they affault Princi 
ples , the glittering Jewel had a ftrange Influence, 
and my Affe&ions began to be too partial on his 
Side : O let no Woman that values her Soul ven 
ture 



ture into the Arms of a Husband of a differing Re 
ligion 1 the kinder he is, the more likely to undo 
her; every thing that endears him to her, doubles 
her Danger ; the more Ihe loves him, the more fhe 
inclines to yield to him ; the more he loves her, the 
flronger are the Bonds, by which he draws her ; and 
her only Mercy would be to have him barbarous and 
unkind to her. 

To. Sift. It is indeed a fad Cafe, where to be mi- 
ferable is the only Safety } but fo it is no doubt, and 
fuch is the Cafe of every Woman that is thus un- 
fuitably match d-: If her Husband is kind, he is a 
Snare to her ; if unkind, he is a Terror to her ; 
his Love, which is his Duty, is her Ruin, and his 
flighting her, which is his Scandal, is her Pro- 
.tedion. 

Wid. It was my Cafe, dear Sifter ; fuch a Jewel! 
fuch a Husband ! How could I fpeak an unkind 
Word ? Every thing he did was fo engaging, every 
thing he faid was fo moving, what could I fay or 
do&gt; 

Eld. Sift. Very true ; and that makes me fay, he 
would have conquer d you at laft. 

Wid. Indeed I can t tell what he might have done 
if he had liv d. 

To. Sift. Well, but to the Jewel : What faid you to 
him? 

Wid. I flood up and thank d him, with a kind 
of Ceremony; but told him, I vufli d it had been 
rather in any other Form. Why, my Dear, fays 
he, fhould not the two moft valuable Forms in the 
World be plac d together ? I told him, that as he 
plac d a religious Value upon it, he fhould have it 
rather in another Place. He told me, my Breaft 
fhould be his Altar; and fo he might adore with 
a double Delight: I told him, I thought he was 
a Jittle profane j and fince I did not place the 

famo 



[ 2 &lt;58] 



fame Value upon it, or make the fame Ufe of if, 
as he did, I might give him Offence by meer Ne- 
ceffity, and make that Difference \vhich we had 
both avoided with fo much Care, break in upon 
us in a Cafe not to be refitted. He anfwer d, No, 
my Dear, I am not going to bribe your Principles, 
much iefs force them: Put you what Value you 
think fit upon it, and give me the like Liberty : I 
told him, I hop d I (hould not undervalue it as his 
Preient, if he did not overvalue it upon another 
Account. He returned warmly, My Dear, the 
lafl is impoffible; and for the n rfl tis a. Trifle; 
give it but Leave to hang where I have plac d it, 
that s all the Refpect I ask you to fiiow it on my Ac* 
count, 

To. Sift. Well, that was a Favour you would not 
deny it a Stranger had given it you. 

Wid. Dear Sifter, you are a Stranger to the Cafe ; 
if you had fcen what was the Confequence of it, you 
would have been frighted, or perhaps have fa Hen 
quite out with him. 

To. Sift. I cannot imagine what Confequences you 
mean- 

Wid&gt; Why, firft of all, he told me, that now he 
would be perfectly eafy about my Salvation, and 
would ceafe to purfue me. with Arguments or In- 
treaties in religious Matters. 

To. Sift What could he mean by that ? 

Wid* Why he faid, he was fure that bleffed Form 
that hung fo near my Heart, would have a miracu 
lous Influence fome time or other, and I fhould be 
brought Home into the Bofom of the Catholick 
Church. 

To. Sift. Well, I fhould have ventur d all that, and 
have flighted the very Thoughts of.it, 

Wid. You cannot imagine what Strefs he laid on 
it; now he faid, every good Catholick that faw me 

but 



but pafs by them, would pray for me ; and every one 
in particular would exorcife me by the Paffioa of 
Chrifl out of the Chains of Herefy. 

To. Sift. What faid you to him ? 

Wid. I put it oft" with a Smile, but my Heart was 
full, I fcarce knew how to hold ; and he perceived 
it eafily, and broke off the Talk a little; but he fell 
to it again, till he faw the Tears flood in my Eyes, 
when he took me in his Arms, and kifs d me again ; 
kifs d my Neck where, the Crofs hung, and then 
kifs d the Jewel, repeating the Word Jtfu two or 
three times, and left me. 

Eld. Sift. This was all Superftition, Sifter, I fliould 
not have borne it; I would have thrown the Jewel 
in his Face, or on the Ground, and have fet my 
Foot upon it. 

Wid* No, Sifter, you would not have done fo 
I am fure ; neither was it my Bufinefs to do fo : 
my Bufinefs was not to quarrel with m.y Husband 
about his Religion, which it was now too late to 
help, but to keep him from being uneafy about 
mine. 

; Eld. Sift. I fhould not have had fo much Patience; 
I would not have liv d with him; I do not think it 
had been my Duty. 

Wid. Nay, Sifter, that s exprefly contrary to the 
Scripture, where this very Cafe is dated in the plain- 
eft Manner imaginable, The Woman that hath a Huf- 
l and which belieueth not, if he will dwell with her^ let her 
not leave him: i Cor. vii. 13. 

Eld. Sift. That is true indeed ; I fpoke rafhly, 
Sifter, in that , but it was a Cafe I confefs, I do not 
know what I fhould have done in it ; I would not 
have wore it then. 

That had been very difobliging. 

Eld. Sifl. I 



Eld. Sift. I would have obliged him to have for- 
born his little idolatrous Tricks then, and ufed them 
on other Occafions. 

WiA. That had been to defire him not to be a 
Roman Catholick : Why, in foreign Countries, chat 
are Popifh, as I underftand, they never go by a 
Crofs, whether it be on the Road, or on any Build 
ing, but they pull off their Hats. 

Fa. So they do, my Dear, and often kneel down, 
tho it be in the Dirt, and fay over their Prayers. 

WiA. Jt is impoflible to tell you how many At 
tacks I had of that kind when I wore this Jewel. 

Fa. I do not doubt of it j efpecially if he brought 
any Strangers into the Room : How did you do, 
Child, when the Venetian Ambaflador din d at your 
Houfe ? Had you it on then ? 

Wld. Yes, Sir, my Spoufe defired me to put it on, 
and I could not well deny him : But I did not know 
how to behave ; for the Ambaffador and all his Re 
tinue paid fo many Bows and Homages to me, or to 
the Crofs, that I fcarce knew what to do with my 
felf, nor was I able to diftinguifh their good Man 
ners from their Religion; and it w r as well I did not 
then underftand Italian^ for, as my Dear told me af 
terwards, they faid a great many religious things 
that would have given me Offence. 

Fa. Thofe things are fo frequent in Italy, that.the 
Proteftant Ladies take no notice of them, and yet 
they all wear Croffes, but fometimes put them out 
of fight. 

Wid. I did fo afterwards ; I lengthened the String 
it hung to, that it might hang a little lower, but it 
was too big, if it went within my Stays, it w r ould 
hurt me ; nor was it much odds to him ; for if he 
faw the String, he knew the Crofs was there, and 
it was all one. 

To- Sift. Did 



To. Sift. Did he ufe any Ceremony to it after the 
firftTime? 

Wid. Always, when he firft came into any Room 
where I was, he was fure to give me his Knee with 
his Bow, and kifs the Crofs as well as his Wife. 

Eld. Sift I /liould never have borne it. 

Wid. You could never have refilled it any more 
than I, for I did what I could ; but his Anfwer was 
clear, My Dear, fays he, take no notice of me, let 
my Civilities be to you ,- take them all to your felf, 
I cannot fliew you too much Refpecl: ; believe it is 
all your own, and be eafy with me. 

Eld* Sift. How could he bid you believe, what you 
"knew to be otherwife : Why did you not leave it 
oft , and reproach him with the Difference ? 

Wid. Dear Sifter, I did fo for Months together : 
But then he doubled his Ceremonies, and told me, I 
only mortify d him then by obliging him to reverence 
the Place where once the blefled Figure had been 
lodg d, as the holy Pilgrims worfhip d the Sepulchre. 

Eld. Sift. He was too hard for you every way, 
Sifter. 

Wid. Ay, and would have been too hard for you 
too, if you had had him. 

Eld. Sift. It is my Mercy that I had him not. 

Wid* Well, it was my Mercy too, that as I had 
him, I had lefs Inconvenience with the unhappy 
Circumftance, than I muft have had perhaps with 
any other Man of his Principles in the World. 

Eld. Sift. That s true, only this I muft add, viz,. 
that thofe engaging Ways would certainly, firft or 
laft, have brought you to Popery. 

Wid. I hope not, Sifter; but I cannot fay when 
I ferioufly reflect on it, how far I might have been 
left. 

Fa. My 



Pa. My Dear, let me ask you a Queftionor two 
about that : I know the firft Method they take in 
fuch Cafes is, to let you fee that you have been mif- 
taken in your Notions about Popery; that the Dif 
ference is not fq great as has been fuggefted to you ; 
that we were all Chriftians , that we worfhip the 
fame God, believe the fame Creed, expect eternal 
Life by the Merits of the fame Saviour, and the like,* 
and by this Method they bring us at firft not to have 
fuch frightful Ideas of the Roman Catholick Religi 
on as we had before. 

fVid. That is true ; and this I had freqently in 
Difcourfe; and, I confefs, fuch Difcourfe had fome 
Effect on me. 

To. Sift. It leffen d the Averfion you had to them 
no doubt. 

Wid. It s true, they became not fo frightful to me 
as before ; but they had another Argument, which 
my Dear often us d to me, and it was this; M? 
Dear y fays he, all your own Divines, and all that 
have written on thefe Subjects, own, that a Roman 
Catholick is in the way of Life ; that a Papift, as 
you call us, may kfop d-j that it is poflible for us to 
go to Heaven *, our Church have no room to believe 
fo of the Proteftants : Why if you may go to Heaven 
among us, fhould you not join with us ? 

Eld. Sift* I know what Anfwer I [hould have to 
that. 

Wid- I know not what your Anfwer would have 
been, but I ll tell you what mine was; I told him, 
I did not know but it might be fo ; and I was w ii- 
ling to have as much Charity as I had Affection for 
him ; but as for my felf, I was fure I could not go 
to Heaven that Way, becaufe I muft act againft my 
own Light. 

To. Sift. 



2 73 3 



To. Sift. That was the true Anfwer indeed : What 
could he fay to it ? 

Wid. Then he told me, he would pray for me, 
that I might be farther inlightned ; and he did not 
doubt but to prevail : I thank d him, and told him, 
I would do the fame for him , and that tho perhaps 
it might not be withfo ftrong a Faith, I was fure ic 
would be with as earneft a Defire. 

To. Sift. Well, you flood your Ground nobly, 
Sifter j but tis a Mercy to you, that your Perfeve- 
rance was tried no farther : tis a dreadful thing to 
have fo dangerous an Enemy fo near one. 

Wid* It is true, there lay my Danger , for I muft 
own, Words fpoken with fomuch Tendernefs have 
a fingular Effect, and fink deeper on the Mind than 
others, efpecially where the Affection is fo mutual 
as it was with us. 

Eld. Sift. Why, Sifter, do you think in time his 
Tendernefs, and his affectionate way of treating 
you would not have abated. 

Wid* I often fear d it, but indeed I never found 
it j fometimes I fuggefted it to him, that I fear d 
it ; and one Day I told him, that if I did not turn, 
I was afraid be would: He guefs d what I meant, 
but would have me explain my felf : Why, My 
Dear, fays I, when I reflect what your Thoughts 
are about Proteftants, that they are out of the 
Pale of the Church, and in a Condition that they 
cannot be faved, I cannot but apprehend, that if 
I do not come over to your Opinion, your Love 
to me will abate, and at laft turn into a flated A- 
verfion and Hatred : How can you love an Object 
which you think God hates ? My Dear, fays he, 
taking me very affectionately in his Arms, I will 
prevent all your Fears, by telling you, that were 
what you mention poffible y it could not be, till I utter 
ly defpair d of your being ever brought over to 

T the 



[ 274] 



the Church ; and I (hall never be brought to be 
lieve, but God will open your Eyes firit or laft ; 
and befides my earneft Defire to perfuade you and 
win you to embrace the true Religion, will teach 
me to do it by all the Tendernefs and Love that it 
is pofllble for me to (hew you ,* for to be unkind to 
you, would be the way to drive you farther off : 
But be it as it will, I can never abate my Affection 
to you ; and, my Dear, fays he (with the moft o- 
bliging pafltonate Air of Concern that it was pof- 
iible to fhewj that I hope, to love you tender 
ly and violently is not the way to keep you at a 
diftance from the Church, but rather to draw you, 
to engage you, and let you fee, that Peace, Love 
Joy, Charity, and all the Virtues of a Chriftian, 
are to be found among us; and not that we are 
Furies and Tyrants, as we have been reprefented ; 
and when he had faid this, holding me ftill in his 
Arms, he kifs d me feveral Times, and went on : 
My Dear, fays he, let God alone to change your 
Heart his own way ; I ll never take any Method 
but that of loving you fincerely and moft paflio- 
nately while I live, and praying for you even af 
ter I am in Heaven ; while he faid this, I faw fuch 
an inexpreffible Tendernefs in his Countenance, 
and every Word came from .him. with fuch Paffion, 
that I could not hold from Tears : But he had not 
done yet, for while he held me in one Arm, he 
put his other Hand in his Pocket, and taking out 
his Pocket-book, he bad me open it , I open d it, 
and there drop d out a loofe Paper doubled pretty 
thick, which I took up, and went to put it in a- 
gain : Take that Paper, my Dear, fays he, and 
put it up ; you (hall have a Pledge for the Conti 
nuance of my Atfedion to you, whether you 
change your Opinion or no : I open d it, but 

could 



[2751 



could read very little of it, for I had but new iy 
begun to learn Italian : What is it, my Dear ? faid 
I: It is, faid he, an Alignment on the Bank of 
Genoa for 2000 Ducats a year, and it fhall be made 
over to your Father in Truft for you, and to who 
ever you will be flow it after you. 

Eld- Sift- Well, Sifter, I would never tell this Sto 
ry to any Proteftant Lady, that was in the leaft 
danger of marrying a Roman. 

Fa. Why, Child, if her Story be told with it, I 
think it may be told to Advantage. 

Eld. Sift. It may teach them indeed to pray, Lead 
us not into Temptation. Well, Sifter, I muft repeat 
what I faid before to you, tho it does grieve you j 
tis your great Mercy that he is dead. 

Wid. O do not fpeak fuch a Word, Sifter, ic 
wounds my very Soul. 

Eld. Sift. Pray anfwer me this fliort Queftion then, 
would you marry fuch another Papift ? 

Wid. There s not fuch another upon Earth, Sifter ; 
and betides, how can you name the Word ? That s 
the unkindeft thing you could think of; I muft break 
off the Difcourfe. 

Eld. Sid. Do not call it unkind ; I do not mean it 
the way you take it : Suppofe Things at the renio- 
teft diftance you can, or fuppofe it to be any other 
body s Cafe, would you advife any other Perfonthat 
had fuch an Offer, I fay, would you advife them to 
marry fuch another ? 

Wid. No, Sifter, not to be a Princefs. 
Eld. Sift. I am anfwer d , and I muft own, I 
fliould take them for diftra&ed if they did. 

Wid. Unlefs the Lady refolv d to turn Papift ; 
and if that, (he would do beft to do it before-hand, 
openly and avowedly, that /he might not be under 

T i the 



[ 



the Refle&ion of doing it on a worfe Account, 
by Compulfion. 

To. Sift. But after you have faid fo many Things 
of him, that are enough to recommend him, not to 
the Aftedion, but even to the Admiration, of any 
one.; \vhat can you fay to perfuade any young Wo 
man not to think that you \vere very happy in him, 
and that confequently they would be fo with fuch 
another. 

Wid. O Sifter! Do not fuggeftthatl was happy 
with him ; I had as few happy Hours, as it was 
poffible for any one to have, that ever had a good 
Husband. 

To. Sift. How can you convince any one of that? 

Wtd. Why, Sifter, it is plain to any one that 
knows wherein the Happinefs of Life confifts : It s 
true, I wanted nothing ; I liv d in the abundance 
of all things ; I had the beft humour d Husband 
on Earth, and one that lov d me to an Extreme ; 
which had not our Cafe indeed call d for fo much 
Affedion another way, would have been a Sin j for, 
in a word, he fum d up all his earthly Felicity in his 
Wife. 

Eld. Sift. If you were to give that Account to the 
Gentlemen of this Age, they would fay you were 
writing the Character of a Fool. 

Wid* It s no matter for that ; it was his Mercy 
and mine too ; for if it had been otherwife^ we had 
been the miferableft Creatures alive ; it was bad 
enough as it was , and all that knew him, will grant 
that he was no Fool. 

To. Sift. But what do you think then would have 
been the Confequence, if, as you fay, he had lov d 
you lefs ? Wherein muft you have been miferable ? 



Wid* Why, 



277 

Wid* Why, Sifter, if his abundant Affe&ion had 
not clofed every Debate with Kindnefs, whither 
muift we have run ? If he had not check d all the, 
Forwarcinefs of his religious Zeal for converting me, 
by his Love to me, to what Severity in our mutu 
al* Reproaches (hould we have gone on! In a word, 
Sifter, Imuft have turn d, or turn d out of Doors; 
I mule have been a Papift, or we miift Jiave parted. 

To. Sift, Why, Sifter, you know there s Mr. P - 
andhis Wife .are in the very fame -Cafe, and yet they 
agree well enough. 

IVid. Dear Sifter , .how can you name them ! He 
is a Papift, and (he is a Proteftant, and when the 
Name is taken awayi it is hard to tell whether ei 
ther of them have any Religion or no, nor do they 
care one Farthing which way either goes ; People 
that can live eafy without Religion, may live eafy 
with any Religion,- that is not the Cafe we are- 
fpeaking of. 

Eld. Sift. There is a, Difference there, I confefs. 
Wid. But if, Sifter, a religious Life be the cnly 
Heaven upon Earth, as we have been taught to be 
lieve, tell me, if you can reprefent fuch a Cafe to .your: 
felfy what muft it be for two to live together, who 
place their Happinefs really in fuch a Life as we call 
religious, but differ fo extremely about what Reli 
gion to build it upon ? That agree in the general 
but not in the Particulars; that dim mutually at the. 
End, viz. going to -Heaven, but turn Back to Back 
as to the way thither? Can a religious Life be 
form d between fuek -is thefe! And if not, then 
they are mutually deprived of tha.t .Heaven upon 
Earth, which, as you and I agree, is alone to be 
found in a religious Life. nj 



T 3 



Eld. Sift. That is true , but then in fuch a Cafe 
the Enjoyment mud be referved and fingular, and 
a Woman muft keep her Religion to herfelf. 

Wid. But you will allow her then to be depriv d 
at once of all focial Religion, of all Family-Reli 
gion, and by Confequence of all the Comfort of a 
religious Husband. 

Eld. Sift- Nay that is true, and I am not fpeaking 
for if, but asking your Experience, whether with 
jfo tender a Husband, as you had, it might not be 
other wife ? 

Wld. Dear Sifter, his Tendernefs, as I faid be 
fore, was my great Mercy, as it made him bear with 
my ObPdnacy, at be catted it : Had he had the fame 
Tendernefs, and been indifferent in his Principles, 
I might: have turn d him ; but had he wanted that 
Tendernefs, and yet been as zealous in his Religion 
as he was, he muft have turn d me, or I mud have 
liv d a dreadful Life with him. 

To. Sift. I find he was a mighty religious Mart in 
his way. 

Wid. To the greateft degree imaginable devout, 
and very ferious, I allure you. 

To. Sift. Well, tho he was miftaken in his Princi 
ples, yet he was the more fober, the more honeft, 
and every way the better prepared to be a good Man. 

Wid. His Devotion made him, without doubt, 
the better Man : But if it had not been for the Re- 
ftraints of his Affection, it had certainly made him 
the worfe Husband. 

To. Sift. So that in this Queftion of marrying a 
Man of a different Opinion in Religion, you fup- 
pofe, that the more devout and ferioijs the Perfon is 
jn his way, the worfe Husband}. 



Wid. 



C 279 ] 



Wid. Without queftion it is f o : The Zeal in 
their own Opinions makes them always uneafy and 
impatient with their Wives, teazing and baiting 
them with impertinent Difputes, and even driving 
them by force of reftlefs Importunities (which, by 
the way, is the worft fort of Perfecution) into a 
Compliance. 

To. Sift. I agree with you in that Part : But, 
Sifter, you fay, that even when your Husband s 
Love was your Protection from thefe Importunities, 
you were yet unhapy, and could not be able to lead 
a religious Life. 

Wid. No, Sifter, I did not fay fo : I faid we 
could not have a religious Family ,* all focial Reli 
gion was loft i mutual Help and Afliftance in Reli 
gion were wanting; publick worshipping God in 
the Family as a Houfe, could not be fet up ; Edu 
cation and Inftrudion of Children was all de- 
flroy d ; Example to Servants and Inferiors all 
{poil d; nothing could be of Religion, but what 
was merely perfonal and retired. 
Aunt* There indeed you are right, Niece. 
Wid. I aflure you, Madam, from my Experi 
ence, that next to the having the Husband and 
Wife be religious, or at leaft religioufly inclined, 
they that \vould have a religious Family, (hould 
take as much Care as poflible to have religious Ser 
vants. 

Aunt. I agree with you in that, my Dear, with 
all my Heart. 

Wid. It is impoflible to preferve the neceffary 
Rules of a religious Family without it, or to have a 
due Regard fhewn to the Orders which muft be gi 
ven on that Account. 



T 4 Aunt. 



[ 280 ] 



Nay, Child, I go farther than that,- I in- 
fiftj that our Servants ought to be fo chofen, as to 
be of the fame Opinions too in Religon as our 
fejves. 

Wid. I have not fo much confider d that Part in 
deed , but I believe, Madam, the Reafons for it 
are very good. 

Aunt. I have a great deal to fay to that Part from, 
my own Experience. 

Eld. Sift. And fo have I too, Madam, from what 
I have feen in fome Families of my Acquaintance. 

Wid. I have feen enough of it in my little Family, 
to make me refolve, that while I have a Family, 
and can keep any Servants, I will entertain none 
but: fuch as worfhip God the fame way as I worfhip 
him. 

Eld. Sift. And did fo before you took them, I hope 
you mean fo, Sifter. 

Wid. Yes indeed I do mean fo too. 

Aunt. I muft put in an Exception, Niece, there, 
in behalf of poor ignorant Creatures, that may come 
into a Family untaught, and are willing to be in 
truded in Things that are good. . 

Wtd. I know not what to fay to that Part, be- 
caufe I am but ill .qualified for a Schoolmiftrefs. 

Aunt. Well, we will difcourfe of this by it felf, 
Niece, for I have a great deal to fay upon that Sub* 
Jed. 

Wid. With all my Heart, Madam. 

Aunt. But in the mean time, Child, let us goon 
where we left off. 

Wid. There was as much Religion in our Houfe, 
as it was poffible there fhould be, in our Circum- 
ftances , for both of us defired it in general, and 
purfued it in particular, only we could not joyn in 
the Manner; and it was a perfect Scene of Con- 
fufion, to fee how Religion was carry d on among 

us; 



[28l ] 



us ; the Servants were fome Papifts, fome Prote- 
ftants, fome Pagans; for we had three Eaft- Indian 
Blacks and one Negro among our People : The Chrif- 
tian Servants were every now and then together by 
the Ears about perfnacling the Negro to turn Chrif- 
tian, and be baptized, but could not bear to think 
which fort of ChrifHan the poor Creature fhould be; 
one of our Men, an Italian, would have him be a 
Papift, and the other would have him to be a Pro- 
teitant ; and the poor Negro was fo confounded be 
tween them, that he could not tell what to do : The 
Negro was a fenfible inquifitive Fellow, and had by 
mere asking Queftions on both fides, gotten a great 
deal of Knowledge of Religion , but was merely 
ftop d in his Search after farther Particulars by the 
impertinent Quarrels of thofe Servants who pre 
tended to inftrucl: him : Both told him he muft be- 
Jieve a God, a future State, a Heaven, a Hell, a 
Refurre&ion to Life, or to Death, and that he mull: 
be faved by a Redeemer: They agreed exactly in 
their Description of the Joys of eternal Life, the 
Torments of Hell, and particularly they had joined 
in giving the poor Negro a frightful Apprehenfion 
of Hell, as the Reward of his doing wickedly, and 
of the Devil as a Tempter, an Enemy and Tormen 
tor ; fo that the poqr Fellow would pray to God very 
heartily to fave him from Hell, and to keep him from 
the Devil. 

But when thefe poor ignorant Fellows began to 
inftrucl: him how to worfhipGod, and who to look 
to as his Redeemer and Saviour; to talk to him 
about reading the Scriptures, and fuch Things, 
they fell out to the laft Degree ; the Englijh Foot 
man told the Italian he was an Idolater, and that 
was worfe than a Heathen; that Negum (forfo the 
poor Negro was catted) was as good a Chriftian as he, 

for 



[ 282 ] 



for tho he did not worfhip in the Name of Chrift, 
yet as he (the Italian Footman) worfhip d a piece of 
Wood for a Saviour, Chrift would not accept him ; 
and it was as bad as Negum s worshipping a Hob- 
Goblin, or any Thing elfe. The Italian told him, 
he was a Heretick, and his Religion was no Reli 
gion at all ; that he was an Enemy to God, and to 
the Church; and told Negum, that if he beiiev d 
what that Fellow faid, the Devil would take him 
away alive. They had many Quarrels about it ; but 
one Day above the reft they came to that htight, 
that they fell to fighting; it feems, the reft of the 
Servants had parted, them before their Mailer or I 
heard of it ; but as we were both walking together 
in the Evening in our Garden, we by mere chance 
faw the Negro in the Kitchin-Garden crying : His 
Mafter faw him firft, and called him to us ; and the 
Fellow came with a Book in his Hand, but terribly 
afraid his Mafter fhould be angry. 

What s the Matter, Negum ? fays his Mafter \ 
and fo they began to talk. 

Negro. No muche Matter, Sir, no muche. 

Mafter Why you were crying, Negum: What did 
you cry about &gt; Has any Body beat you. 

Neg. No muche cry, no beat me. 

Ma. What then; Negum? What Book have you 
got there ? 

Neg. Indeed e me no go away *, Sir; me no go 
if me be Chriftian f, no indeede. 



* Kneels down. 

f "The Fel/ow, it feems^ wax afraid his Mafter would 
ihink^ ifheturndChriftian, he would ie baftiz?d&gt; and 
fo think himfelf free ; and he kneeled down to his Mafter, 
h&gt; leg him not to be angry. 

Ma. Well, 



. Well, well, thou fhalt be a Chriftian, Negicm, 
if thou haft a Mind to it ; God forbid any body 
fhould hinder thee : What Book s that ? 

Neg. Bible-Book : me reade this Book to be Chrif- 
tian. 

Ma. Who gave you that Book to read? 

Neg. Auguftino. 

Ma. Let me fee it *. 

Neg. Me have other Bible-Book f too. 

Ma- Let s fee that too **. 

Who gave you this too ? 

Neg. William. 

Ma. Well, you underftand the Languages ; read 
them both : But, poor Fellow, thou haft got but 
two forry Teachers. 

When he gave the Books back to him, and bad 
him read them both, he turn d to me , My Dear, 
fays he, thefe Fellows pretend to inftrud this poor 
Negro in the Chriftian Religion, when they can t 
agree about it themfelves, I am ftire,- upon which 
Negum makes his Mafter a Bow, and puts in his 
Word. 

\f\ J r "\ 

Neg. No indeede, they no agree j they fighte 
juft now about teache me. 

Ma. What did they fight ! 

Neg. Yes indeede they fighte juft now ; they no 
teache me ; one fay, me go to the Devil ; t other 
me go to the Devil j they no teache me to go 



* He look d in the Book, and faw it was an Italian 
Mijfal or Pfalter. 
t He pulls another Book out* 

* His Mafter hok d in that tOQ&gt; and found it was an 
Englifh Bible, 

away 



[28 4 ] 

away fromthe Devil , they make me no know what 
Idol 

Ma. And was that it you cry d about, Negum? 

Neg. Yes indeede, me cry to go to the Devil f me 
would go away from the Devil. 

Ma. You mud pray to God to keep you from the 
Devil. 

Neg Yes indeed, me do pray God keep away the 
Devil. 

Ma* You muft pray to God to teach you too. 

Neg God teache me! No, Augnftino teache me ! 
No, William teache me ! God teache me, how tbtet ? 

Here my Spot) fe found, how the Cafe Rood,-- and 
turning to me, My Dear, faid he., u tbe fe Fellows 
will quarrel continually about this poor Man, and 
fo in the End he will be brought rather to abhor 
the Chriftian - Religion in general, than to turn 
Chriftian at all ; while one pulls him one, way y and 
one another : Now what Courfe muft you and I 
take? I cannot pretend to deiire him to ba made 
a Proteftant ; I am fure you Aveovo -de-fire, him to be 
a Catholick } and fo the pcor Fellow muft be k&gt;ft : 
f told him, it was a-cricical Cafe, In which I knew 
not: how to a& vrbur as they were his Servants in 
particular, and that he brought this Negro out of 
Italy with him, I thought they were td .be.at-"his 
and ? Dirc6ion ratter ; : Than i mine, j " My 
i 1 , fays he, there is nothing mine but \vhat.is 
yours; don t ihifc it off fo, but tell me what f^ali 
I do -?. I confefsJL^t;emblcdj^j3en^^JaidJo^f&lt; ; ^r I 
was afraid fome Debate would fail in between tif, 
in : Gonfquence %f-the Cafe ; however I anfwerM 
him thus : My Dear, you deterniin J before for 
me, what you might --be fure would be my 
Thoughts; bur ^what^can I determine about your 
Servants? Wei), my Dear, fays he. I ll do as^V 

lomon 



. 

lotyw did in the Cafe of dividing the Child, 111 
(hew you that I am the trueft Lover of his Soul, I 
mean of us two ; for rather than he fhould not be 
taught to wojfhip God at all, let. him be taught the 
Way of Country where we are , if we divide, as 
our pwo Men have done, he will not be taught ac 
all- 

Upon this Principle he aded, and confessed I 
Should ad: in it as I law Caufe ; upon which, I fenc 
the Negro down to a Country Tenant we have in 
Ejfexy upon pretence to learn to plow and fow &gt; ,and 
do Country Work, and there I kept him near a 
Twelvemonth ; at the fame time the Farmer being 
a very fober religious Man, and having a Hint from 
me- what to do, this poor Negro is become a very 
fenfible religious Fellow, has been baptized now 
two years ago, and I think verily is an excellent 
Chriftian. 

Sift. And did he run aw r ay, or claim his Freedom 
upon his being baptized ? 

Wid. No not he; but I gave him his Freedom, 
\vhen his Mafter died, and gave him Wages, and 
he is an extraordinary Servant, I afliire you. 

Sift. Your Husband drained a Point of Religion 
there, I affiare you. . 

WfW. Why you fee what Principle he did it 
from ; he faw the Fellow was in a Proteftant 
Country, and would either be a Proteftant at laft, 
or nothing at all ; and he rather chofe he Hiould 
be a Proteftant, than remain a Heathen, or lofe 
all defire of being a Chriftian, for, fays he, God 
can inlighten him farther by a Miracle, when he 
pleafes; and then having been taught the general 
Notions of Religion, he would be the eafier 
brought to embrace the true Church; but if he 
continues a Heathen, he will have no Knowledge 
at all. 

Eld. Sifl. I 



[ 



Eld Sift. I believe you would not have fliewn the 
fame Charity for his Church ? 

Wtd. I confefs, I did not fhew fo much Zeal 
for the Soul of the poor Negro, as J think I ought 
to have done, or fo much Charity, as he did ; 
but had other Thoughts at that time to take me 
up : However, Sifter, to bring this back to the 
firft Difcourfe, you fee by this how fatal in a Fa 
mily Difference in Principles is within the fame 
Houfe, and had he not been byafs d by an extra 
ordinary Temper, as well as by an uncommon 
Chanty, we had been the moft miferable Couple 
on Earth ; fo that, in fhort, there is not one Part 
of a Woman s Life in fuch a Circumftance that is 
not dreadfully embarrafs d, if (he has any Senfe 
of her own Principles, or her Husband any Senfe 
of his. 

To. Sift* But do you not think then, that there 
may be a Cafe of fome kind or other, in which a 
Man and a Woman may be happy together, tho 
there be a difference in Opinion ? 

Wid* No indeed, I do not think there is : 1 do 
not think you can name a Cafe, in which it is pof- 
fible to fay with Truth, that they can be* happy j 
that is, that there is not fome Interruption to their 
Happinefs on that very Account. 

To. Sift. That is, fuppofing them to be both reli- 
gioufly inclined. 

Wld. Nay, that need not be fuppofed ; for we 
go upon our Mother s old Principle, that without 
a religious Family there can be no Happinefs of 
Life : If they are, as I faid before, indifferent a- 
bout Religion, then there is no Happinefs at all 
in our fenfe of Felicity ; and if they place their 
Happinefs in purfuing their Duty, as every true 
Chriftian muft, there muft be fome of that Hap 
pinefs 



O8 7 ] 



pinefs wanting, where they cannot worship God to 
gether, and go hand in hand to Heaven. 
3 To. Sift- You know, Sifter, I was always of that 
Mind ; but I am exceedingly confirmed in it by 
your Experience. 

Wid. You were happy in your early cleaving to 
this Principle, and I miferable in negleding it ; may 
both our Examples be directing to thofe that come 
after us. 

Fa. Come, Children, blerTed be God for the Ex 
perience of both : Let us end this Difcourfe, for it 
makes me melancholy, that have had a very unhap 
py Part in both your Cafes : In yours, my Dear *, 
I violently endeavoured to force you to be mife 
rable i and in yours, my Dear f, I intirely omitted 
the Concern 1 ought to have had upon me, to pre 
vent your making your felf fo. 

Sift- Do not afflict your felf, Sir, about that now : 
blefied be God we have both got it over. 

Fa. But it does afflict me for all that , and let all 
Fathers learn from me, how much it concerns them, 
if they wifh well to their Children, cither to their 
Souls or Bodies, to eftablifh religious Families in 
their Pofterity, and to prevent their Children mar 
rying, ifpoflible, either where there is no Religion, 
or no Agreement in Opinion about it , for in either 
Cafe they are fure to be made miferable. 



* Sfeaking to the Toungeft. 
t Sfeaking to the other. 



The End of the Second Part. 

THE 




THE 



APPENDIX. 



PART III. 




the latter Part of the laft Dif- 
courfe we left the Aunt and the 
Widow Siller, who had marry d 



the Roman Catholick Gentleman, 
entring upon a Difcourfe about the 
Inconveniencies of entertaining ir 
religious Servants ; and alfo of en 
tertaining of Servants of differing Perfuafions and 
Opinions in Religion, one from another, or of dif 
ferent Opinions from the Family they ferved in. 
The Ladies put off the Difcourfe of that Affair 
for another Time, the Aunt being willing to en 
ter into a more particular Converfation about it. 
This caufed fcveral very entertaining Difcourfes 

U among 



[ 290 ] 

among them at feveral times, fome of which, I 
hope, may be ufeful to be made publick for the Di- 
redion of other Families, and for the Encourage 
ment of all Matters or Miftrefles of Families, who 
defire to promote good Government and religious 
Things among their Children and Servants, and 
particularly in fuch a Time as this, when tis known 
that Servants are lefs apt to fubmit to Family Regu 
lations, and good Houfhold Government than ever. 
The two Ladies being at their Aunt s Houfe, 
which was at Hamfleadt as I have obferved, their 
Aunt had a little Squabble with one of her Maids 
upon the following Occafion : The Maid had, it 
feems, been out in the Afternoon of a Sabbath-day, 
and (laid longer than the ufual time of being at 
Church ; and her Lady, who otherwife had known 
nothing of it, happen d unluckily for the Wench to 
be juft in the way when fhe came in, that is to fay, 
the Lady chancing to go down the Back-flairs, 
which was not ordinary for her to do, meets her 
Maid dreft in her beft Clothes, and juft going up to 
undrefs herfelf , and this Rencounter between the 
Miftrefs and the Maid, produc d the following Di 
alogue. 




DI A- 



DIALOGUE I. 




jA ! Mary, fays the Lady, what not 
undreft yet ! 

Mary. I fhall be ready prefently, 
Madam. 

La. But how comes you to be fo 
fine at this time of Day ? I fuppofe you are but juft 
come in, Mary ? 

Ma. Yes, Madam, I have been come in a good 
while. 

La. What do you call a good while, Mary ? 

Ma. A great while, Madam. 

La. Muft not I know how long, Mary? 

Ma. Yes, Madam, if youpleafe; but you don t 
ufe to inquire into fuch Trifles ; I hope I have not 
been wanted. 

La. It would have been a Trifle, Mary, if it had 
been of another Day ; but it being on the Sabbath- 
day, Mary^ makes the Cafe differ extremely ; I hope 
you were at Church, Mary ? 

Ma* Yes, Madam, to be fure. 

La. At our Church, Mary ? I think I did not fee 
you there. 

Ma. No, Madam, indeed I was not there; I hope 
tis ail one if I was at another Church ? 

La. No, Mary, it is not all one, becaufe I cannot 
be fure that you were at any Church at all. 



U 2 



Ma. You 



[ 292 ] 



Ma. You may take my Word, Madam, for that 
for once, 1 hope. 

La. I cannot fay, Mary, that tis fo much to my 
Satisfaction to take your Word for it, as it would 
ha been to fee you at Church rny felf. 

Ma. I am forry, Madam, you fliould be uneafy 
at thofe Things , I hope I do your Bufinefs to your 
Content ; and as to going to Church, I hope I may 
be at Liberty to go to what Church I like bed. 

La* Why yes, Mary^ I am willing to allow Liber 
ty of Confcience, but then it is upon Condition that 
it is really a confciencious Liberty , tis not my 
Queftion, w r hat Church you go to, if I am fatisfy d 
you were at any Church at all j but how ftiall I be 
fure of that, Mary? 

Ma Tis not worth your Inquiry, Madam } thofe 
Things are Trifles below a Miflrefs to trouble her- 
felf with. 

La. No, Mary, you are much miftaken there ; I 
think I am obliged to inquire whether my Servants 
go to Church, or no ; and how they fpend their 
Time a Sabbath-days : Befides, Mary, tis a great 
while fince Church was done, and I find you are but 
juft come Home ; I defire to have fome little Ac 
count where you have been. 

Ma* I am, not afham d to tell where I have been, 
Madam ; I have been doing no Harm ; I have been 
taking a Walk, Madam -, I work hard enough all the 
Week ; I think I may take a little Pleafure a Sun 
days. 

La. Well, Mary, fo you have been walking in the 
Fields, and taking your Pleafure to Day. 

Ma. Yes, Madam } I hope there s no Offence in 
it ; I think you faid I have not been wanted. 

La- Well, but juft now you ud you had been at 
Church, Mary. 

Ma. Why 



L 2 P3 

Ma. Why that s true, Madam ; I was at High- 
gate Church-door, but I did not go in, that s iiue ; 
I did not think you would have troubled your felf to 
examine fuch Trifles fo very particularly. 

La. You and I differ very much about the thing 
It felf; I do not think tis a trifling thing at all, Mary, 
whether my Servants fpend the Sabbath-day at 
Church, or in taking their Pleafure. 

Ma. I work very hard, Madam, all the Week. 
La. What s that to keeping the Sabbath-day, 
Mary ? 

Ma. Why, Madam, fure I may take a little Plea 
fure a Sundays; I have no other Time; I am fure 
you give your Servants no Time for Diverfion, 

La. Did I ever refufe you, Mary, when you ask d 
me for a Day for your felf? 

Ma. I never troubled you much with asking. 
La. 1 had rather you had, Mary, than take God s 1 
Time for your felf. 

Ma. God s Time, Madam ; all our Time is God s 
Time, I think. 

La. Yes, Mary; but feme Time he has appointed 
for Religion, Mary. 

Ma. Religion ! ODear, indeed, Madam, I don t 
trouble my felf about Religion, not I. 
La. So I find, Mary, and am forry for it. 
Ma. O Madam, you have Religion enough for us 
all: What can I do? 

La. Don t make a Jeft of it, Mary ; I am not jefl- 
ing with you. 

Ma. I think you are, Madam, when you talk to 
me of Religion ; I don t under (land it ; what can I 
fay to it ? 

La. You can go to Church, Mary, can t you ? 



U 3 Ma. Yes, 



[ 294 I 



Ma. Yes, Madam, fo I do fometimes. 

La. And don t you go every Sunday? 

Ma. No indeed, Madam, not I ; tis a Folly to lye, 

La. I am forry for it, Mary ; I aflure you, they 
that live with me fhall go to Church every Sunday, 
or I /hall not defire their Service. 

Ma. You never made that Bargain, Madam, when 
you hir d me. 

La. Well, Mary, then I make it now , for they 
fhall not ferve me all the Week, that make my Work 
an Excufe for not ferving God on Sunday ; I fhould 
think it would bring a Curfe upon my Work, and 
upon my whole Family. 

Ma. As you pleafefor that, Madam. 

La. No, Mary, it muft be as you pleafe, it feems , 
for you know my Conditions now, and I exped you 
will obferve them, or remove. 

Here her Miftrefs left her^ feeing fie began to talk a 
little faucily, and fhe bad no mind to vex herfelf, 
or put herfelf in any Paffion with her. 

The Wench a little heated with the Reproof her 
Lady had given her, and vex dthat fhe was caught, 
for Hie did not expert to fee her Miftrefs on the 
Back-ftairs, went up and undrefs d herfelf, and hear 
ing another of the Maids in the next Room, fhe goes 
to her, and there gives a full Vent to her Paffion j 
railing heartily at her Miftrefs, and at Religion, 
and at every thing that came in her way. The fol 
lowing Difcourfe will gives fome part of their Talk: 
She knocks at the Door, and calls to her Fellow- 
Servant thus -, Betty, open the Door, I want to fpeak 
with you ; fo Betty let her in, and fhe begins. 



Ma. I 



[ 



Ma. I fuppofe you have heard what a Lefture I 
have had, han t you Betty ? 

Betty. No, not I : Who have you had a Ledure 
from ? 

Ma. Nay, no body but my Miftrefs : I wonder 
what Bufinefs (he had upon the Back-ftairs. 

Bet. Back-ftairs ! Why did you meet my Miftrefs 
upon the Back-ftairs ? 

Ma. Ay, ay, I met her there , or rather, (he met 
me there, as ill Luck would have it; for I was 
but juft come in, and was coming up to undrefs 
me, but (he caught me ; I would I had been a 
MiieorT. 

Bet. Why, what did (he fay to you ? Was flie 
angry ? 

Ma. Ay, ay, angry ! I never had fuch a Rattle 
from her fince I came into the Houfe. 

Bet. What was the Matter ? What was it for ? 

Ma. For ! For nothing, I think; but forfoothfhe 
would needs know where I had been, and whether 
I had been at Church, or no: What has flie to 
do with it, whether I go to Church or no ? Tis 
nothing to her. 

Bet* O that was only becaufe you was but juft 
come in, and it was fo long pad Church- time, I, 
fuppofe, that made her fufpecl: you. 

Ma. Sufped me ! What do you mean by that ? 
I do nothing to be fufpeded, not I. 

Bet. I don t fay you do} I fay that made her 
fufpecl you had not been at Church. 

Ma. Well, fhe need not trouble her Head with 
her Sufpicions of me; I told her I had not been 
at Church ; I told her I had been to take a Walk 
with a Friend as far as Higkgate. 

Bet. Did you ? That s more than I dare do ; if 
I make a flip now and then, I am in fuch a Hurry to 

U 4 get 



get back juft as Church is done, that it takes away 
all thePleafureofit. 

Ma. I con c trouble my Head with it; if I have a 
mind to take a Walk, as long as (he don t want me, 
what need fhe trouble her felf ; I fhan t be fo much 
afraid of her, not I ; as long as tis only a Sunday and 
my Work is done too. 

Bet. But then I can affure you my Miftrefs and you 
not agree long together; for if (he knows it, 
won t keep you an Hour. 

Ma. Nay, flie may do as llie will for that; I told 
her plainly where I went, and that I thought (he 
had nothing to do with it. 

Bet. Did you fo, Mary 1 Then I fuppofe (he told 
you her mind. 

Ma. Ay, ay, and I told her my mind too : I won t 
be tied up to her religious Trumpery, not I ; if I do 
her Work, what has fhe to do with what Religion 
I am of, or whether I have any Religion or no ? Tis 
no Bufinefs of hers. 

Bet. No, Mary, I cannot go that Length, nei 
ther : I think my Miftrefs may concern herfelf 
with that ; for if (lie is .religious herfelf, (he may 
defire to have her Servants be fo too ; and there 
fore if I do make a Breach fome:imes, I always 
do it fo as not to be found out ; and I have had 
fuch good Luck, that my Miftrefs has never caught 
me yet. 

Ma. Well (he has caught me ; and if it be a fine 
Day nexr. Sunday, (he fhall catch me again, if 
fhe has a mind to it , I won t be ty d to go to 
Church but when I pleafe ; I love Liberty : Be- 
fides ; this is about Religion, Betty, and fo tis Li 
berty of Confcience ; you know I love Liberty of 
Confcience, Betty. 

Bet. You 



297 

Bet. You are witty upon it, Mary: Pray what do 
you call Liberty of Confcience ? 

Ala. Whatl That I fhould have Liberty to go to 
Church, or not to go to Church, as I think fit, 
and when I pleafe , is not that Liberty of Con 
fcience ? 

Bet. No, Mary, I think that is Liberty without 
Confcience ; for tis a Liberty in what we fhould 
not do ; that can never be Liberty of Confcience, 
Mary. 

Ma. Well, well ; then let it be Liberty without 
Confcience ; tis the Liberty I love ; and I fee no 
Harm in it : Why you acknowledge you do fo your 
felf don t you ? 

Bet. That s true, fo I do fometimes ; but I can 
not fay tis as it fhould be; I cannot fay as you do, 
that there is no Harm in it ; tis a Fault, I know that; 
and I don t do it very often ; and when I do, as 
told you, I take care not to have it known. 

Ma. Very well, then you are worfe than I ; for 
you believe tis a Fault, and yet you do it : Now 
I don t think tis a Fault at all, if I did, it may be, 
I would not do it. 

Bet. I don t believe you can fay with a fafe Con 
fcience, that there is no Harm in it ; you only are 
harden d a little more than I. 

Ma. It may be fo ; and you are even with ?ne; for 
you are a little more of a Hypocrite than I, and 
for ought I fee that s all the Difference between 
us. 

Bet. Truly, Mary, your Reproof is bitter; but 
perhaps tis too true; and I (hall learn fo much 
from you, that I fhall take more care how I do a- 
gain what my own Confcience convinces me is a 
Fault. 

Ala. Well, 



Ma. Well, and I may go on, becaufe I have more 
Impudence than you, I fuppofe, that s what you 
mean. 

Bet* I do not fay fo ; I believe you know tis a 
Fault as well as I do, but you are a little more us d 
to thofe Things, it may be, than I have been. 

Ma. I am as I was bred, and fo, it may be, are 
you , I was never taught to lay much ftrefs upon 
thefe Things, and fo I never trouble my felf about 
them. 

Bet* Weil, Mary, I am glad you think I have been 
taught better. 

Ma. Why as well as you have been taught, I find 
you can take a Walk in the Fields a Sunday as well 
as I. 

Bet. But I tell you again, I don t do it and 
think there s no Harm in it, as you do ; and I 
think you have touch d me fo Home with your 
Reproof, that I refolve never to do fo again while 
I live. 

Ma. But what s all this to my Miftrefs and me? 
What has (he to do with it ? 

Bet. Why, Mary, my Miflrefs is a very pious 
religious Lady, and fhe thinks herfelf bound to call 
her Servants to an Account how they fpend their 
Time. 

Ma. Ay, fo Hie may for all the Week-days, for 
that s her Time, but Sunday s my own, Hie has no 
thing to do with that. 

Bet* I afliire you my Miftrefs will not allow that 
Dodrine ; fhe thinks fhe has as much to do with 
you a Sunday as any other Day. 

Ma. You talk of my Miftrefs being a religious 
Lady, why fo fhe may be, for ought I know ; and 
I think we have fo much Religion at Home, we 
need not go abroad for it : Does not the Chap 
lain teaze us twice a day with his long Prayers, 

and 



and reading of Chapters } I am Cure he has made me 
negled my Bufinefs many times to come in to Pray 
ers ; but I give them the flip fometimes, and if I did 
not, they would have many a good Difh of Meat 
fpojVd, fo they would. 

Bet* You are a merry Girl, Mary, when you talk 
of Religion. 

Ma. Nay, I don t underftand it ; I know no 
thing of the Matter ; I come to do my Bufinefs, 
and mind the Kitchen; if their Dinners are not well 
difli d up, they may find fault, and I fhould take 
fome Care to mend it ; but talk to me about Reli 
gion, tis time enough hereafter, let them let me 
alone to my felf. 

Bet. But my Miftrefs will fatisfy you, that Ihe is 
obliged, while (he keeps you for a Servant, to fee 
that you ferve God as well as you ferve her. 

Ma. O dear! Let them ferve God themfelves 
better firfi , I don t fee that any of them have any 
more regard to their Prayers and their Chapters 
than I have that ftay away, but only for Form 
fake, and it may be for the Credit of employing a 
Chaplain. 

Bet. Nay, do not fay fo neither , I can affure you 
my Miftrefs is a very pious religious Lady, and you 
cannot fay otherwife lam fure, and fo are all the 
young Ladies too, they are like her. 

Ma. It may be fo &gt; and yet I have feen them all 
afleep at Prayers many a time, when I am fure they 
had not fo much more need to be fleepy than I had, 
that work hard, nor fo much neither. 

Bet. Sometimes they may be heavy, but that is 
not often ; and I fuppofe you cannot fay they were 
ever all afleep together. 

Ma. 5 Tis no matter for that, they do the fame 
at Church , and pray what s the difference between 
my going to the Fields to take my Pleafure a Sun 
days, 



[ 3 "J 

days, and their going to Church to take their 
Eafe ? between my wafhing my Dirties, while the 
Chaplain is at Prayers, and their being faft afleep 
at Prayers ? 

Bet. Why, Moti^ thou art very malicious to take 
notice of fuch Things, and they are Faults to be 
fure, but there is a vaft Difference in them too. 

Ma* As how pray ? 

Bet Why thus : That tho they may fometimes 
drop afleep, tis not always ; and they do it but 
feldom ; you it feems make the t other a Pradice, 
and do it always; then if they do deep fometimes 
at Church or at Prayers, they don t pretend to fay 
there is no Harm in it, they muft acknowledge 
they ought not to do fo, but you have the Impu 
dence to fay, when you fpend your Time in the 
Fields, or perhaps worfe, there is no Harm in it : 
Now there s a great deal of difference between do 
ing a Thing which they acknowledge to be wrong, 
and doing what is really wrong, and juftifying it as 
if it was right. 

Ma. Well, let them do what they will, and let 
me do what I will; I don t meddle with them, let 
them let me alone, can t they ? 

Bet. But it may be my Miftrefs thinks fhe ought 
to govern her Servants in religious Things, as well 
as in her Houfe Affairs. 

Ma. Why let her think what fhe will, and do 
what fhe will, I will have my own Way, I fhall 
mind nothing they fay to me. 

Bet. That s none of my Bufinefs, Mary; you 
muft do as you will. 

Ma. No ; and tis none of her Bufinefs neither, 
I think. 

Bet. I can t fay that, Mary ; I think, if you 
were a Miftrefs, and kept a great many Servants, 
as our Miftrefs does, you would talk otherwife 

and 



[ 3 01 1 

and do otherwife too, or elfe you would foon have a 
Houfe full of Whores and Rogues. 

Ma. I don t know what 1 fhould do then, nor 
do I trouble my Head with it , for I am never like 
to be tried with it j but if I was a Houfe-keeper, 
and kept Maids, I would take care they (hould 
do my Bufinefs, and that would keep them from 
making fuch a diforderly Houfe as you fpeak of; 
as for their Religion, I fhould not trouble my felf 
about it. 

Bet. Well, butlw r ould trouble my felf about that 
too, I affure you, if I were a Miflrefs. 

Ma. Why, what would you do? 

Bet. Why if I had a Chaplain or a Husband that 
kept up good Orders in his Houfe, I would take 
care my Servants fhould always attend at Prayers; 
and on Sundays I would take care they fhould all 
go to Church, and come Home again too when 
Church was done. 

Ma. You would! And if I was your Maid, you 
would make me come in to Prayers every Night and 
Morning, \vould you ? 

Bet. Yes I would, or you fhould not live with 
me. 

Ma. Well, and if I did come in, I fhould only 
laugh at you all when I did, and make a jeft of 
your Chaplain or your Husband, and fo would other 
Servants too : Don t you fee we do fo here ? An c 
we always a making Sport at our poor dull Thing 
call d a Chaplain. 

Bet. Yes, I can t fay but I fee it, but I never join 
with you in it ; for I think there s no jeft at all in it ; 
and as for the poor good Man himfelf, I know he* 
fees it, and tis a great Trouble and Discouragement 
to him. 

Ma. Why, 
3 



[ 302 ] 



Ma. Why, what is fuch a Fellow good for, but 
to be gam d and made Sport with ? Does he think 
\ve take him for any thing but a religious Merry 
Andrew ? 

Bet. You muft think however my Miftrefs takes 
him otherwife, and thinks it her Duty to keep him, 
and to have good Orders in her Houfe , and it does 
not become us that are Servants to mock at fuch 
Things: No Matter or Miftrefs that knew their 
Servants mock d at God s Worfhip in their Houfe, 
ought to keep thofe Servants an Hour longer in 
their Families. 

Ma. And you would make me come to Church it 
I was you Cook, would you Betty ? 

Bet. No, I don t fay I would make you go to 
Church, but you fhould either go to God s Worihip, 
or go about your Bufinefs. 

Ma. Well but what if I were a Diflencer, and did 
not like your Way, or did not care to go to your 
Church ? Or what if you were a Diffenter, and I 
did not like to go to the Meeting-houfe ? 

Bet. Why truly, Mary, in general, I fay if that 
were the real Cafe, 1 would not conftrain you, 
provided I was fatisfy d you went but fomewhere,- 
but your Difpute with my Miftrefs is between go 
ing fomewhere and no where, not between ferving 
God in this Manner or that Manner, but be 
tween ferving God fome Way or other, and ferving 
him no Way at all, and that alters the Cafe 
mightily. 

Ma. But as to the Matter of coming to Pray 
ers at Home, it would be the fame thing , for if 
I were a Church-woman, and my Miftrefs a Dif 
fenter ; or I a DifTenter, and my Miftrefs of the 
Church ; I a Quaker, and my Miftrefs a Roman 
Catholick ; or my Miftrefs a Quaker, and I a Ca- 
tholick, it would be all the fame thing,- there 

would 



would be the fame Diflike and Contempt of what was 
done in the Houfe ; I fhould no more like the Crof- 
fes and the Maffes of the Papifts, the Yea and Nay 
of the Quakers, and read ing Prayers of the Church, 
or Extempore Prayers of the Presbyterians, if I 
was of the other Opinion, than I now like any of 
them, while I declare I underfland none of them ; 
and fo all their Family-doings would be but a jeft 
to me, and I ll make a jeft of them. 

Bet. Why, this is too true ; and therefore I tnuft 
own, that if I were a Miftrefs of a Houfe, I would 
always have my Servants go to the fame Place, to 
ferve God, as I did my felf, or I would not keep 
them ; whether I went to the Church, or to tire 
Meeting-houfe , to the Quakers Meeting, or to the 
Mafs-houfe. 

Ma. And what would you be the better ? They 
would but make a jeft of you ft ill ; they would be 
not the more of your Opinion for forcing them to 
go where you went. 

Bet. You miftake me much ; I mean they fhould be 
fuch as by Choice went to worfhip fo before they 
came to me, and that declared their Opinion to be 
fo when I hir d them; for other wife, I grant that 
compelling them afterwards would be nothing at all, 
or perhaps worfe than the other. 

Ma. And what if an honeft plain Wench like 
me came to be hir d, that knows nothing at ail of 
Religion, and troubled not herfelf about it ? 

Bet. Why fuch a one, when I ask d her whether 
fhe went to this or that Place, would fay yes to any 
of them as I happened to be my felf, and fo I might 
be deceived. 

Ma. Weil and what would you do then, when 
you found her out, and met her on the Back-ftairs, 
as my Miftrefs has done by me. 

Bet. Why 



34- 



Bet. Why I fnould do juft as my Miftrefs has done 
with you, enquire about it, and when I found you 
a reprobate profane Wench, and a fancy one too, as 
it feems you acknowledge you have Jfliown your 
felf to Day ; I fhould e en give you warning to mend 
your Manners, or provide your felf, as it feems my 
Miftrefs has done too. 

Ma. A pretty Story ! So I am come to make my 
Compla-int to you to fine purpofe ; for it feerns you 
think me in the wrong ail the way. 

Bet Indeed fo I do. 

Ma. And what if I had come to you to be hir d, 
and you had ask d me my Opinion about Religion, 
and I had anfwer d you, that I had not had many 
Thoughts about it, that all Opinions were alike to 
me ; that when I did go any where, I would 
go \vhere you would have me go, and the like. 

Bet. Why, Mary, I muft : own Ifhould not like it 
at all ; neither I believe, fhould I hire you at all : 
I fhould be afraid to take fuch a ftupid Defpifer of 
God and Religion into my Houfe, you fhould e en 
go without a Miftrefs of me. 

Ma. Well, and you might go without a Servant 
too of me ; for I can tell you there are Miftrefles 
enough in the World that never ask the Queftion 
either before or after, nor care whether their Ser 
vants ferve God or the Devil. 

Bet. Ay, Mary, and that is one Reafon why fo 
many of us Servants are of the fame kind. 

Ma. Well, well, I don t doubt however but I 
(hall get a Place among them, and not be quefti- . 
on d about going to Church : I go to Service to 
work, not to learn my Catechifm ; I underftand my 
Cookery, what is it to them whether I underftand 
Religion, or no. 

Bet. Why, 



C 30* 3 



Set. Why, look you, Mary, I don t learn my Ca- 
techifm any more than you, and yet I do not like my 
Miftrefs the worfe, I aflfure you, for taking care 
that her Servants fhould go to Church, and not ca 
ring to keep thofe that are Defpifers of Religion. I 
think tis a pity any Lady that is religious fhould 
not have religious Servants about them. 

They had another Dialogue upon this Subject 
afterwards : But it had too much Paflion in it to 
merit a Place in this Account ,- for the Cafe was this : 
Betty gave her Lady an Account of fome Part of 
Mary s Difcourfe, particularly that of making a Jeft 
of her Chaplain, and of her calling the Family to 
Prayers , upon which her Miftrefs turned her out of 
her Houfe, giving her a Month s Wages inftead of 
a Month s Warning, as one not fit to be allow d to 
ftay in her Family ; and Mary fell upon her Fellow- 
Servant for that Part in a great Rage : Betty told her 
in fo many Words, (he thought her felf obliged to 
mention it, tho it was not till her Miftrefs having 
heard that they had difcours d together, made her 
promife to give her a full Acconnt of all that had 
pafs d between them, and if fhe had not done it 
faithfully, her Miftrefs would have put them both 
away together. 

Thefe two fhort Dialogues or Difputes about the 
Maid s rambling on the Sabbath-Day, was the Rea- 
fon why the young Lady s Aunt was willing to dif- 
courfe again with her Neice upon that Subject ; and 
accordingly meeting together fome Time after, they 
renewed their Difcourfe about Servants in the fol 
lowing manner. 

Aunt* I think, Neice, when you and I talk d laft, 
we were upon the Subjed of taking religious Ser 
vants j I want to hear what you have to fay upon 

X that 



that Head ; for I think there is really much more in 
it than moft People imagine. 

Neice. Truly, Madam, it is what I lay a great 
Strefs upon ; and tho I have not had much Occaiion 
to complain in the few Years I have kept Houfe ; 
yet I have feen fa much of it in my Mother s Time, 
and (ince that in other Families, and a little in my 
own, that I am refolved whatever Shift I make, 
I will have no Servants, but fuch as, at leaft, have 
a common Reverence for Religion and for Religi 
ous Perfons in a Family. To be fure I will never 
have any Scoffers and Mockers of Religion if I can 
help it. 

Aunt* As the World goes now, Child, it will 
be very hard to find fuch ; for Religion is fo much 
made a Jeft of among Mailers, that it is hard to 
find any Servants that do not jeft at it too, and 
mock and flight all thofe that have any Regard 
to it. 

Neice- That is my Cafe, Madam, exa&Iy , but 
there is another Mifchiefin it too. 

Aunt. Another mifchicf, Child ! There are innu 
merable Family Mifchiefs in it. 

Neice- I believe fo, Madam. But this is one par 
ticular Cafe, and which I have the greater Reafon 
to take notice of, becaufe a certain Lady, an Ac 
quaintance and Neighbour of mine has had a great 
deal of that Kind. And indeed in a particular man 
ner with her Servants. 

Aunt. What Lady is that ? Pray do I know her ? 

Neice. You had fome Difcourfe with her, Madam, 
if I remember right, the laft Time you did me the 
Favour to dine with me. 

Aunt. I remember it very well ; and we talk d a 
little upon that very Subject ; I mean, how rude 
and infoknt Servants ^ere grown at this Time ; 

but 



37 

but I think we had not much Talk of their being ir 
religious and profane. 

Neice. Madam, /he had a Servant, whom they 
call d her Woman ; for (he was one to whom Hie en- 
trufted every Thing, and who was like a Houfe- 
keeper; and all the Servants were, as it were, un 
der her : She was a very good fort of a Body in 
deed, in the Houfe , and as that Lady, if you re 
member, was very lame, fo /he could not ftir about 
to look much after her Servants her felf, and .trufted 
all to this Woman. 

She was a fenfible Woman, had the knowledge of 
almoft every Thing in the World ; and talk d ad 
mirably well,- had a World of Wit and Humour, 
very mannerly and well behav d, fober and modeft 
enough ; in fhort (he was an excellent Servant. 

Aunt. You give her an extraordinary Character, 
Neice, I afliire you. 

Neice. In a Word, Madam, (he had every Thing 
about her, that could be defir d in a Servant but Re 
ligion , and of that /he was as entirely empty as you 
can imagine it poflible for any Creature in the World 
to be, that had ever heard of God or Devil, or had 
liv d among Chriftians. 

Aunt. Nay, Neice, you fay Hie was not an igno 
rant Body. 

Neice. No indeed, Madam, /lie was fo far from 
being ignorant, that (he was able to deceive any 
Body : She would talk of religious Things as well, 
and argue upon them ftrongly enough to delude 
any Body,- and this made it the worfe, for (he 
was fuch a human Devil, that (he made ufe of a 
fluent Tongue, and of an uncommon Wit, not to 
talk irreligioufly only, but to mock and make a 

Seft of Religion in general, and of all thofe that 
ad any regard for it. 

X 2 Aunt. She 



Aunt. She was a dangerous Body indeed ! Pray 
was fhe a Maid or a Wife ? For (be is not very 
young, it feems. 

Neice. She had never been marry d, Madam, but 
I think, was engaged to a Man whom my Spoufe 
fent to Italy : And they are to be marry d when he 
comes back. 

Aunt. You fay (lie is ,a fober Womari. 

Neice. Yes, Madam, I dare fay flie is. But her 
wicked, profane, and atheiftical Behaviour is e- 
nough to poifon a whole Family. 

Aunt. But why does the Lady your Friend enter 
tain fuch a one in her Houfe ? 

Neice. She has fuch a Subtlety in her Conduct, and 
behaves fo cunningly, that her Miflrefs does not 
perceive it ; at leaft fhe does not think her fo bad as 
fhe is. 

Aunt. But what fays her Husband co it ? Does he 
know it ? 

Netce* Yes, Madam, he knows more of it than fhe 
does ; for the Men Servants tell him of it, and give 
him a particular Account fometimes of Pafl ages 
which they obferve. 

Aunt. Perhaps he don t trouble himfelf about it: 
For the Men do not often value thefe Things. 

Neice. Indeed, Madam, juft the contrary,- for he 
is a very fober religious Gentleman, and keeps very 
good Orders in his Houfe, and tis a very great 
Difturbance to him. 

Aunt. And has he fpoken of it to his Wife ? 

Neke. Yes, Madam, he has very often, and told 
her fuch Particulars as are very eflential to the Good 
of the Family ,* and fuch too as almoft carry their 
own Evidence with them. 

Aunt. And what does /lie fay ? 

Neice. I 



[ 3P 1 



Neice. I know not indeed how /he manages , but 
I knovv that her Husband and (he have had more 
Words about it, than about all other matters put 
together, iince they were marry d ; and fomedmes 
it grows high, and they are very warm and even 
angry about it. 

Aunt. Why, (he feems to be a good fenfible reli 
gious Lady : How can (he take fuch a Creature s 
Part, efpecially againit her Husband ? 

Neice. Why, Firft of all fhe pretends that file 
does not believe it; that the other Servants rival her 
the Favours (he receives, and her Miftrefs s parti 
cular Kindnefles, and do it out of a malicious De- 
fign ; then (he fays /he has examin d her, and /he 
finds (he clears her felfof much of the Charge, and 
makes the reft appear to be trifling, and not worth 
Notice. 

Aunt. But perhaps, Neice 9i it really may be fo too, 
and the other Servants may make Things worfe than 
they are, for the Reafons you mention. 

Neice. But Madam, it is otherwife in Fact,- for 
the Truth is, this Wench or Woman manages all 
the Servants fo effectually, that, in (hort, if any of 
them are religioufly inclin d when they come, (he 
makes them afham d to be fo, when they come to 
her; for (he makes fuch a Mock of Religion, and 
fuch a Jeft of going to Church, or going to Pray 
ers in the Family, that (he laughs them out of their 
Religion, and, in a Word, they all turn Reprobates 
like her felf. 

Aunt. But can this be, and her Lady not know ic, 
or hear of it ? 

Neice. Yes, very well, Madam \ for as I told you, 
ihe is an excellent Servant, and the more her Mi- 
ftrefs is loth to part with her, the harder (he is to 
believe thefe Things of her, 

X 



[3 



10 



Aunt. But, Neice, her Husband you fay, knows 
it j fure Ihe will believe him. 

Neice. But fhe alledges he knows it but by Hear- 
fay from the reft of the Servants, who (he fays hate 
her, and therefore falfly accufe her. 

Aunt. But does he know nothing from his own 
Knowledge ? 

Neice. Yes, Madam, he knows too much ; for the 
unwary Creature let him over-hear her one Even 
ing, making her Jeers, and flout at him to fome of 
the Servants, but behind his Back, for his calling 
them all to Prayers ; and not only fo, but at fome 
Expreflions which he had ufed fome Time or other, 
which (he pretended were Nonfenfe, and others 
trifling, and the like, as the Redundancy of her Wit 
gave her room to banter. 

Aunt. That was very unhappy indeed, and the 
worfe that he (hould know it too. 

Neice. So it was. Madam; for it made the poor 
Gentleman decline performing his Duty for fome 
Time, and made a very great Breach between 
him and his Lady, which is hardly quite made up 
yet. 

Aunt. Why fo, pray ? 

Neice. Why, Madam, fhe wanted to have him 
continue to go on with his Duty, and to pray 
in his Family as he us d to do : He declar d he 
could not do it while that Creature was to be 
there , that it was a Reftraint to him, and he 
could not perform when he knew there was one 
in the PLice who made a Scoff and Jeer at him 
for it. She alledg d he ought to perform his Duty 
for all that, and that it was a Piece of the De 
vil s Craft, contrived to interrupt the Worfhip of 
God in his Family, and that he ought todifregard 
it entirely. 

Aunt. Well, 



C3 



" 

Aunt. Well, I think, he was very much in the 
wrong in that Part, for he certainly ought not to 
have omitted his Duty upon fo mean an Objection 
as that. 

Neice. That is true, and he owned it,- but faid 
it was a Difficulty upon him, a Reftraint to him in 
the Performance of his Duty, and that (he ought to 
remove it for him. 

Aunt. He ought to have confider d that the lefs 
of Religion was to be found in his Servants, the 
more Reafon he had to pray for them, and with 
them, that he might perhaps be the Occafion of 
Good to them, and of bringing them to the Know 
ledge and Love of Religion, which would be an Ad 
vantage he ought to be thankful for, and think it a 
Blefling to his Houfe if it happened fo. 

Neice* She did argue juft fo to him, Madam : But 
he return d it fo ftrong upon her, that jflie ought as 
far as lay in her, to remove every Difficulty that lay 
in the Way of his Duty, that "it was much more 
forcible as to her ; for he told her, that if (he grant 
ed, that the Difficulty was a Snare laid in his Way 
by the Devil, /lie ought at the fame time that (he 
told him it was his Duty to refift it, do all file could 
pofTible, or that lay in her Power, to remove the Oc 
cafion ; otherwife Ihe made her felf acceffary to the 
Temptation, and afliftant to the Devil, in laying a 
Snare for her Husband, and much of the Sin wou d 
lie at her Door. 

Aunt. There was a great deal in that, I confefs ; 
and I think fhe ought to have yielded immediately. 
Pray, what did (he fay to it ? 

Neice. She infifted, that the Charge was falfe; 
that her Woman deny d it, and, as I faid before, that 
it was a malicious Defign of the other Servants ,- but 
in (hort, the Bufinefs was, that (he was very loth to 

X 4 part 



[ 3 12 



part with her Woman, who, as I faid before, was a 
very good Servant, and ufeful to her divers Ways. 

Aunt. But you faid, that he heard fomething of it 
himfelf. Surely fhe would believe him then. 

Neice. Why, fhe could fay nothing to that indeed, 
but (he put it off as well as (he could, with telling 
him, (he wou d tell her Woman of it, and take care 
fhe fhould do fo no more. 

Aunt. That feemed to be Trifling, becaufe it 
was in a matter of fuch Confequence as ought 
not to be trifled with. 

Neice. It was fo : But he went yet farther ; he en 
treated her, he begg d of her to take away a Thing 
fo irkfom from him, and which was fo much a Hin 
drance to his Duty : He told her, that had a Ser 
vant been a meer ignorant untaught Creature, he 
/hould have had no Difficulty upon him, but rather 
it would be an Encouragement to do his Duty, in 
Hopes of being an Inftrument of opening their Eyes: 
But for a Mocker at Religion, and one that not only 
defpis d Religion it felf, but mock d at others for it ; 
This made the Cafe differ exceedingly, and he knew 
not how to get over it. 

Aunt. And would not fuch Arguments as thofe 
move her? 

Neice* Truly, not fo much as they fhould have 
done. 

Amt. And pray* what was the Confequence of it ? 

Neice&gt; Truly, Madam, the Confequences were bad 
many Ways. For Firft, it kept the Lady and her 
Husband in very ill Terms with one another for 
near two Years : And, Secondly, That unhappy Crea 
ture bancer d all the other Servants of the Family 
GUI- of the little Religion they had, and indeed made 
them all like her felf. 

Aunt. And where did it end ? 

Neice. Why ? 



I 3*3 ] 

Neice. Why, Madam, befides this, it broke and 
put an End to all good Order and to the Worfhipof 
God in the Family } I mean to all Family- Worfhip. 

Aunt. What dreadful Work was that? What! And 
does it continue fo ftill ? 

Neice. No, Madam. Her Husband, who is a 
very religious Gentleman, could not content him- 
felf with living in that Manner with his Family, 
and not being able to prevail with his Wife to part 
with her Woman, he took fo much upon him, as to 
force her out of the Houfe, that is to fay, he put a- 
waythe whole Set of Servants in the Family ; for 
they were all made alike at laft, and took all new- 
People at once. 

Aunt. And how did the Lady take it ? 

Neice. Truly, Madam, I cannot fay (he took it fo 
well as I wifh, for her Sake, fhe had : For tho her 
Husband and (he are very religious, fober and good 
People, yet I cannot but fay, it has broken very 
much in upon their Tempers and Affection one to 
another, and there is not all the Harmony between 
them, that there us d to be. 

Aunt. And all along of one gracelefs irreligious 
Servant. 

Neice i Tis very true, Madam. 

Aunt. Befides, as you fay, ruining the Morals of 
the reft of the Servants. 

Neice. Yes, Madam. 

Aunt. Pray how did that appear among them &gt; 

Neice. Why, Madam, in the firft Place fhe made 
all religious Things her Jeft ; turn d all that was 
faid to them at Church, or in the Family, that 
had any thing ferious in it, into Banter and Ridi 
cule, and laugh d them out of every thing that 
look d like Religion. She reprefented Religion to 
be a meer Piece of State- Policy and Prieftrrtft, 
contriv d between the Clergy and the Sutefnv n, 
*/ only 



[ 3H 1 



only to fubjed the World to their Management. 
The Miniflers and Servants of JefusChrift fet apart 
for the Altar, and whofe Bufinefs it is to preach 
Salvation to a loft World, by a glorious but cruci- 
fy d Redeemer, fh defpis d with the loweft or laft 
Degree of Contempt ; calling them Mercenaries 
and Tradefmenj the Church their Idol, and the 
Pulpit their Shop, where they fold what they call d 
the Word of God to who bidmoft, and fuch like hor 
rid and blafphemous Stuff. When the honeft Ser 
vants would have gone to Church with their Ma- 
fter and Miftrefs, fhe would carry them away into 
the Fields, or to make fome Vifit or other, and 
continually turn them off from what was religious 
to fomething of Levity and Diverfion, as a more 
fuitable Work for the Sabbath-Day; and ftill when 
Ihe had brought them to break in upon Confcience, 
and to profane the Sabbath-Day, fhe would fall 
foul of Religion for laying the Burden of Rules 
upon the Liberties of the World ; and all fhe did or 
faid, was with a deal of Wit, and by way of 
Sarcafm, as fliarp and as clean as if fhe had been a 
Philofopher, or a Doclor in Theology. 

Aunt. She was the more dangerous. 

Neice. She was fo indeed } for fhe had the 
Tongue of a Sirens twas neatly hung, but hel- 
lifhly employed; for fhe delighted in making every 
Body as bad as her felf. 

Aunt. Your Story is very good , let me tell you 
another. 

Neice. I fhould be glad to hear it, Madam. But 
if you pleafe to put it off till by-and-by ; for I fee 
your * Servant waits to fpeak w r ith you. 



She whiff ers her Maid. 

Aunt. Shs 



Aunt. She does fo indeed : Tis to call us all to 
Dinner. Well, \ve will talk again of this Part , 
for I am very much of your Opinion, Neice, 
about taking no profane irreligious Servants if we 
can help it. 




DIA- 



] 




DIALOGUE II. 




N the Evening the Lady and her Neice 
taking a Walk in the Garden, had a, 
farther Converfation upon the fame 
Subject, and the Neice faid to her 
Aunt, which began the Dialogue ; Madam, 
When we left off our Difcourfe in the Morning, you 
were pleafed to fay at the End of my Story of an ir 
religious profane Wench that my Neighbour Mrs* 

had been troubled with, that you would tell 

me a Story of another. 

Aunt. I did fo Child : It is of a Family that 
lives at * that Houfe juft over-the-way in the 
Back- Lane. The People are Diflenters ; the Gen 
tlewoman is a very fober, religious good Sort of a 
Perfon indeed , and her Husband is a very grave 
religious Man alfo. They endeavour to take Ser 
vants of their own Perfuafion as much as they 
can *, but that is fometimes very difficult to do ; 
and fhe has indeed had very bad Luck that way. 
However, this Gentlewoman, as /he told me- her 
felf, having Occafion to hire a Maid-Servant , I 
forget whether fhe was Cook or Chambermaid, or 
what elfe, for they kept three or four : But after 



* She points to a Houfe that could be feen over the 
Garden-Wall. 

(he 



fhe had agreed in every Tiling elfe, (he ask d her 
Maid (that was to be) what Religion he was of? 

Madam, fays the Maid blufliing (for fhe look d 
mighty fober) that is a Queftion I don t under- 
fland very well- 

Why&gt; fays the Miftrefs, I hope you are a Prote- 
flant j I don t mean whether you are a Papift or no. 

Yes, Madam, fays the Maid, I think I am a Pro- 
teftant. 

Nay, fays the Miftrefs, do you but think fo then? 
I doubt you don t think much about it. 

Not fo much as I fhould do, Madam, fays the 
Maid, and look d very (imply and innocently at the 
Difcourfe. 

Neice. Not expe&ing, it may be y to be ask d fuch 
Queftions. 

Aunt. No, I believe not ; for they are Queftions 
that, I think, none of us ask fo much as we fhould do, 
when we hire Servants. 

Nieice. Servants value themfelves fo much now, 
that they would take is as out of the way to be ask d 
about thefe Things. 

Aunt. Well, if I have any Servants, they (hall all 
be ask d fuch Queftions, and anfwer them too, or 
they Hiail be no Servants to me. 

Neice. 1 am of the fame mind, Madam, if I can 
poflibly find Servants that will fubmit to it. 

Aunt. Child, i they won t fubmit before they 
are hired, to tell me what Religion they are of; 
what are they like to fubmit to (after they are kir d) 
about Religion, or any thing elfe. 

Neice. Why really, Madam, I have had two or 
three that made a great deal of Difficulty to do it, 
and thought it very much out of the Way to have me 
ask em about it. 



Aunt. And 



. 

Aunt. And did you take them after that ? 

Neice. Why truly, yes I did take two of them. 

Aunt. And were they good for any Thing when 
you had them ? 

Neice. Indeed they were good for very little I muft 
confefs. 

Aunt. It may be poffible indeed, that a Wench 
may be a good Servant, that is not a good Chriflianj 
but I muft acknowledge it is but very feldom that it 
proves fo , but when a good Servant is a good 
Chriftian too, fuch a one is ten times the more va 
luable for a Servant, as well as for her Religion. 

Neice* It is true, Madam : But what fhall we fay, 
that fome that, are good Chriftians, are neverthelefs 
not good Servants ; nay, there is a kind of a Scandal 
upon thofe we call religious Servants 5 that they are 
generally faucy, referv d, and value themfelves too 
upon it, always making Conditions with you, and 
claiming Times and Liberties on Account of reli 
gious Affairs, which are neither proper for the Work 
of Religion, and perhaps not employed fo when 
granted. 

Aunt. That brings me back to the Story I was 
telling you, at leaft to one Part of it. 

Neice. I am forry I interrupted it then. Pray, 
Madam, go on with it, 

Aunt. I told you that Gentlewoman my Neigh 
bour ask d the Wench about her Religion, and how 
modeftly (he anfwer d. However her Miftrefs put 
an End to that kind of Difcourfe, and faid, Look ye, 
Sweet-heart^ I fhall not catechife you too far ; the 
Queftion is, whether you have been bred to the 
Church, or the Meeting-houfe, for I ll tell you be 
fore-hand, we are all Diffenters, and go to the 
Meeting. 

Neice. That 



Neice. That was too open, fhe might have firft 
heard what the Maid faid of her felf. 

Aunt. No, HO; fhe was willing to let her know 
firft, and fee what Anfwer fhe would give to it, not 
doubting but that if fhe gave an Anfwer not founded 
upon Principle, (he fhould find it out. 

Neice. Weil, Madam, perhaps fhe would be any 
thing to get a good Place. 

Aunt. As to that, (he made her felf Judge of it 
from her Anfwer, which was very honeft indeed, 
tho not to her Miftrefs s Satisfaction at all. 

Neice. Why, Madam, if it was honeft, why fhould 
it not fatisfy her Miftrefs. 

Aunt. Twas an Anfwer which difeover d the un 
happy Confequences of divided Families, and fhows 
much of the Neceflky of what we have had fo many 
Dialogues about, in the Cafe of your felf and your 
Sifters. 

Neice. What, about Husbands and Wives being 
of the fame Opinion, Madam ? 

Aunt. Yes : She told her Miftrefs, that her Father 
went to the Meetings, and her Mother went to the 
Church. 

Neice. What was that to the Queftion of what Re 
ligion or Opinion fhe was ? 

Aunt. Yes, my Dear, (he ask d her what fhe was 
bred to, and it was a proper Anfwer. 

Neice. That s true ; and fo between both, I fup- 
pofe (lie was bred to be indifferent to either. 

Aunt. No, my Dear, twas worfe than that ; and 
her Miftrefs took it immediately ; for fhe turn d pret 
ty quick upon the Wench ; and fo Sweet-heart, fays 
jhe, I fuppofe you were bred between them, to go 
neither to one, not t other. 

Yes, Madam, fays the Maid y fometimes I went to 
bne, and fometimes to t other. 

And 



[ 320 ] 

And fometimes no Whither, fays the Miftrefs. 

My Father and Mother were poor People, Ms- 
am, fays foe. 

Poor People, fays the Miftrefs, what then Child &gt; 
They might have carry d you to ferve God with 
them, one where or other ; their Poverty did not 
hinder that. 

That s true, Madam, , fays the Maid, but they 
could not agree about it. 

Neice. So, in fhort, the poor Girl was left be 
tween them without any Government or Inftrudion; 
I fuppofe thatmuft be the Cafe: A fad Example of 
a Family, where the Husband goes one way, and 
the Wife another. 

Aunt. Ay fo it was : However fhe anfwer d upon 
the whole, that flic was very willing to go to the 
Meeting, fince her Miftrefs defir d it. 

Neice. That was to fay, (he was perfedly indif 
ferent in the matter, and it would have been the 
fame Thing to her if her Miftrefs had been a Church- 
woman, or a Roman-Catholick, or a Jew, or any 
Thing, or Nothing. 

Aunt. But her Miftrefs did not take it fo; but 
feem d fatisfied, that (he agreed to go to the Meet 
ing, and fo took her into the Houfe. 

Neice. And pray, Madam, what came of it? how 
did fhe prove &gt; 

Aunt. Why, juft as a poor uneducated ignorant 
Creature would prove. She went with them to the 
Meeting, but pretended to the Servants (he did not 
like it, and (he had rather go to Church : So her 
Miftrefs taking an Opportunity of talking with her 
again one Day, told her what (he had heard in the 
Houfe of her, and ask d her if (he had faid, that (he 
did not like going to the Meetings, but had rather 
go to Church, and (he faid, that indeed (he did fay 
fo, but (he meant nothing of Harm. 

2 Well, 



[ 321 ] 



Well, fays her Miftrefs, I never de/ire to offer Vi 
olence to any Servant s Conference ; if you had ra 
ther go to Church, you fhall go to Church, tho you 
know what you faid to me, when I hir d you, that 
you were very willing to go to the Meeting. 

That was very true, (he faid, and /he had not faid 
otherwife now ; but fhe faid only, that Hie had ra 
ther go to Church : However, if Ihe pleased llie 
would flay at home. 

No, no, fays the Miflrefs, I ll have no flaying 
at home ; I will have all my Servants go to the pub- 
lick Worfhip of God fomewhere , flaying at home 
may be as much a mif-fpending the Sabbath-Day, 
as going abroad for Pleafure : Therefore go to 
Church, Betty, fays her Miflrefs, by all means ; I 
am not fo much againfl going to Church, as to think 
that they do not ferve and worftiip God there : By 
all means, if you do not care to go to the Meeting, 
go to Church , tis certainly your Duty to go 
fomewhere, and mine to oblige you to it. 

Neice. That was fpoken like a Woman of very 
good Principles. 

Aunt. She is a very good fort of a Perfon I affure 
you, and generally governs her felf upon good Prin 
ciples, Principles of Juflice and of Charity, which 
is a great Part of Religion. 

Neice. Well, pray what follow d ? 

Aunt. Why (he went to Church, as file faid; 
but in a little while her Miflrefs began to fufpeft 
her, and once or twice (he betray d her felf, and 
difcover d among the Servants that (he had been 
rambling about, but had not been at Church at 
all : Upon this Sufpicion her Miflrefs told her one 
Day very calmly, that Ihe had fome Reafon to 
fufped, that her faying fhe had rather go to Church 

Y thaa 



3 22 

than to the Meeting, was not a fincere Diflike of 
one, or approving of one, more than of the other, 
but really a Projed of her own to have the Liberty 
of fpending the Sabbath-Day no where ; that is 
to fay, in running about as fhe had been fuftered 
to do, when (he was at home with her Father and 
^Mother. 

She reply d with fome Confidence, that indeed 
it was not fo, and began to be more pofitive 
about her having been at Church then her Mi 
ftrefs denYd fhe fhould be, becaufe fhe knew fhe 
told her what was falfe : However fhe run on, 
told her Miftrefs a Lye or two, which fhe knew 
to be fo ; and infifted that fhe defired to go to 
Church, becaufe (he lik d to ferve God, in that 
Way, better than the other ; fo her Miftrefs let it 
pafs for that Time, and fhe went to Church as ufu- 
al, that is to fay, went where fhe pleas d for fome 
Time. 

At lafl fhe was trapp d accidentally, and xould 
not get off any manner of way ; for going ramb 
ling for her Pleafure, with fome of the Neigh 
bouring Servants, Men and Maids together (for 
by this Time fhe had got a Gang like her (elf) 
and going to crofs the Road about a Mile from 
the Town, a young Citizen that was fpending the 
Sabbath-Day on Horfe-back, as fhe was fpending 
it on Foot, I mean in Pleafure, coming juft up 
at that Minute, his Horfe ftarted at fomething, I 
know not at what, and giving a Spring forward, 
run againft the poor Wench, fyeat her down, and 
rid over her; then run away. with the Man, and 
threw him off a little farther, and hurt him too 
very much. 

Neice. And what became of the poor Girl ? 
/ 

Aunt* Why, 



[3 2 3l. 

Aunt. Why, /he was more frighted than any 
thing elfe ; but /lie had a Kick or Bruife by th$ 
Horfe on her Knee, or the Horfe trod on her Knee, 
fhe could not well tell which 5 but by that means, 
(he was iam d, and could not get home till about 
eight a clock at Night, when her Mi fire fe coming 
to the Knowledge of it, fent the Coach for her, and 
brought her home. 

Neke. Then there was a full Difcovery in 
deed. 

Aunt. Ay, fo there was,- for the Neighbour s 
Servants that were with her own d where they had 
been, and with whom ; and told honeflly that they 
had been at a Cake-houfe to be merry. 

Neice. It was no Crime perhaps in the Families 
where they liv d. 

Aunt. No, none at all ; or at leaft, no Notice was 
taken of it, efpecially fince they were only with 
Neighbours, and as they calfd /&gt;, were in no bad 
Company. 

Neice. But what did /lie do with her Maid ? 

Aunt Why, her Maid was the fame ; fhe was 
forry for a while, and pretended /he would never 
go abroad for Pleafure again of a Sabbath-Day : 
But that held but a little while ; /lie was the fame 
again a little while after : So her Miftrefs refolv d 
to part with her, for fhe two or three times en 
ticed the other Servants to go abroad with her, 
and flill when they had been mifs d, the Anfwer 
was, they went to Church with Betty, and then 
if Betty was ask d, /lie would lye very readily too, 
and fay yes. At laft this came out too, and Betty 
was call d to an Account for it, and when /lie 
could deny it no longer, then fhe would own it, 
but promifed to alter it, and do fo no more : Ac 
length her Miftrefs, who was in a little Strait ftiU, 
and loth to put any Force upon the Wench a- 

Y 2 bout 



[ 



bout going to the Meeting, told her fhe could not 
bear thefe Things, and gave her Warning. 

Neiee. It was Time to part with her when fhe 
found flie fpoil d the reft of the Servants. 

Aunt. Well, but the Wench, very loth to leave a 
good Place, came to her Miftrefs, and begged her 
to let her ftay,and fhe would go to the Meeting, and 
then fhe fhould be fure fhe did not ramble any more 
on the, Sabbath-Day. 

Neice. So that twas plain fhe would ferve God 
anyway for a good Place, and that was what I faid 
of her, as foon as I heard her firft Anfwer. 

Aunt. But her Miftrefs aded upon another Prin 
ciple ftill, and fhe refus d her: No, fays fhe, Betty, 
you declared in the Houfe that you uled to go to 
Church $ that you did not like the Meetings, and 
that you had rather go to Church : Now, I will 
not have any body forc d from going to Church 
to pleafe me ; if you had been one that was bred 
to go to the Meeting, I had been better pleas d, be- 
caufe I have been fo brought up my felf , but if 
you choofe to go to Church becaufe you like to 
ferve God after that manner better than in the 
Way I go, God forbid I fhould put any- Force 
upon you j I doubt not, but you may ferve and 
worfliip God very acceptably either way ; but if 
you go to the Meeting which you do not like, only 
to keep your Place which you do like, tis plain 
to me you will worfhip God no where, for you 
cannot be faid to worfhip God in a Way you do not 
like. 

Neice. She was too nice, I think, and talk d to 
an ignorant Wench in Language that fhe did not 
underftand; (lie might e en ha let her gone any 
where,- for twas plain fhe would ferve God no 
where. 

Aunt. Well, 



[ 325 ] 

Aunt. Well, ihe a&lt;3ed her own Principles how 
ever. 

Neice* But what did flie do with the Maid then? 
Aum Why fhe made her a new Propofal. Look- 
ye Betty, fays her Miftrefs, if you will go to 
Church honeftly, and fatisfy me that you do fo, 
and that you do not, under a Pretence of going 
to Church, go abroad and fpend your Time idly, 
I Hiall be eafy ; for this was ail the Reafon why at 
firft I ask d you where you went, and told you I ex 
pected you fliould go with me ; not that I am againft 
any Body s going to the Church, but becaufe I defire 
they tfaould ferve God, and not ramble abroad. 
Betty promifed heartily ; Ay, but fays her Mi- 
flrefs, how fhall I be fatisfy d of the Performance ? 
Betty flood hard to have her Word be taken for it ; 
but that would not do, becaufe (he had broke her 
Promife before, and had told fome Lyes too about 
the other Servants going to Church with her, as a- 
/ bove. Well, Betty, fays her Miftrefs, Pll put you in 
a Way to fatisfy me effectually : You know the Clerk 
of the Pari/li lives but juft by, and in your Way to 
the Church ; his Wife is a very fober good Woman, 
and I know never fails going to Church, if (he be 
well : Now, if you will go every Sunday with her, 
I ll anfwerforit, that if you are not there, (he will 
be true to me, and fo kind to you, as *to tell me of 
it, and this ihall fatisfy me. 

Neice. If the Clerk s Wife was fo faithful to be 
trufled, it was right, but that was a doubtful thing; 
for fhe would be loth, I reckon, to ruin the poor 
Wench for failing now and then. 

Aunt. Well, the Short of the Story was this ; 
Betty was Betty ftill; an ill Habit and Want of 
Principle led her away , /he feldom came to Church, 
and the Clerk s Wife would not lye for her, and 

Y 3 fo 



[ 3**] 

fo at lafl her Miftrefs turn d her away ; and thus I 
think all Servants, Men and Maids, fhould be ferv d, 
would the Matters and Miftrefles do their Duty ; 
and if this was univerfally pradis d, Servants would 
ferve God and their Miftrefles too, better than they 
tic. 

Neke. They would fo indeed, and for Want of it, 
they ferve neither God nor their MiftrefTes. Tis 
a want of a religious Regard to the Well-ordering of 
Servants that makes them as they are. 

Aunt* Well, But I have another Story to tell you 
of the fame Gentlewoman ; for after this flie took a 
Servant that (he thought muft neceflarily be- religious; 
for fhe was bred to the Meetings from her Infancy : 
But it feems ihe was not of the fame Sort as her 
Miftrefs; but fhe told her where flie ufed to go, 
and capitulated for Liberty to go to the fame Meet 
ing Mil. This her Miftrefs readily confented to, 
not doubting but that one that was under fuch Ob 
ligations, would certainly be careful to do her 
Duty ; and when /lie mentioned to the Maid that Ihe 
was very ready to yield-to her going where flie faid 
jhe went, that fhe only defir d to be fatisfy d that 
her Servants did really go where they faid they went, 
the Maid feem d a little furprized, that fhe fhould 
be thought capable of fo wicked a Thing as that, 
andfo ftopp d her Miftrefs s Mouth with her Char 
rader. 

Neice* Well, Madam, then I hope fhe had one to 
her mind. 

Aunt. At the fame Time her Husband had a Man- 
Servant, who was a very religious devout Fellow, 
and he was a Churchman : He truly conditioned 
that he would be at Liberty to go to Church, which 
upon their being fatisfy d that he was really a well- 
meaning, fober and ferious Fellow, they eafily con- 
femed to ? 

Neice. \ 



3 2 7 

Neice. I thought you faid they infifted on their 
Servants going to worfhip God where they did. 

Aunt. I told you they defir d it, biit that it was 
chiefly that they might be fure to have orderly Ser 
vants ; and that they did obferve the Lord s Day, 
and worshipped God in fome Place, or other, not 
mif-fpending the Sabbath-, otherwife they werePer- 
fons of a large Chanty, and of a true Chnftian Tem 
per to thofe from whom they differed. 

Neice. Well, but to return to their Servants, how 
did they prove ? 

Aunt. Only the worft that ever was heard of. 

Neice. What ! Both of them ? 

Aunt. Ay, ay, both of them. The Wench was 
faucy, rigid, cenforious ; took upon her to find 
Fault, that her Mafter and Miftrefs, who were 
chearful and good-temper d People, were not feri- 
ous enough , (he would not come in to their Family- 
Worship, becaufe fhe faid, twas forrily perform d 
and (he did not like it : When her Miftrefs enter- 
tain d any Friends, Hie did not like it, twas wick 
ed, and it was loofe and extravagant, and had too 
much Luxury in it, and the like. 

Neice. She (hould have been Miftrefs, and not 
Maid. 

Aunt. Her Miftrefs told her fo indeed one Day, 
when over- hearing fome of her Talk by Accident. 
She call d her to her, and fpeaking fomething angri 
ly to her, Jane, fays Jhe, anfwer me one Queftion, 
What did I hire you-for ? Jane was a little furprized 
at firft, not underftanding the Queftion, and faid 
nothing ; till her Miftrefs repeated the Queftion by 
way of Explanation thus, Jane, Pray did I not hirt 
you to do my Work, and to be my Servant $ 

Yes, Madam, fays Jane. 

Well then, fays her Miflrefs, Pray do your Bu- 
finefs, and behave like a Servant, *s becomes you, 

4 or 



[ 3 28] 

or remove and provide your felly and when I want a 
Schoolmiftrefs to teach me how to behave in my Fa 
mily, I ll fend for you. 

Neice. That was right ; that was ading like a 
Miftrefs , pray, what faid Jane to it ? 

Aunt* She was confounded, and ftruck dumb at 
firft, but her Miftrefs explain d it to her after 
wards. 

Neice. But pray, what was /lie for a Servant ? 

Atnt. O ! A moft extraordinary accompli/h d Slat 
tern, and a furly, heavy, unmannerly Creature, that 
look d always as if /he thought her felf fitter to be a 
Miftrefs, than her that was fo , did every Thing 
with Reludance, awkward and difrefpedful, and 
yet wilful, and above being taught, dull to the laft 
Degree, but fcorn d Reproof. 

Neice. Certainly Hie had more of the Pretence 
to Religion than of the Reality; for Chriftianity 
teaches us to fill up every Relative Duty with 
equal Exadnefs, and with a fuitable Diligence and 
Application. 

Aunt. Why, to bring my Story to a Point, 
/he had the Outfide of Religion only : Whether 
fhe took it up with a Defign to deceive, or whe 
ther (he deceived her felf, and fell from what (he 
at firft profefs d, I know not ; but /he fell quite 
off from Religion it felf at laft, and adding to that 
fome Follies, which I choofe to fay nothing of, 
my good Neighbour turn d her off, and got rid of 
her. 

Neice. There /lie was cheated in her own way. 

Aunt. She was fo, and I told her of it ; but (he 
anfwer d me with a Saying which I have often 
made ufe of before, and that with relation to 
my felf; I am never, faid fhe, in fo much Danger 
to be cheated, as when People fretend to be religious ; 

for 



C 3 2 5&gt; 

for then I thank they dare not do fuch Things as 1 am 
afraid of. 

Here the Second Sifter came into the Room, and 
finding what Difcourfe they were engag d in, after 
her Refpeds paid to her Aunt, and to her Sifter, /lie 
denVd they would go on with their Difcourfe, for 
that {he knew the Subject, and it was whatfhe came 
on purpofe to have her Share in. 

Aunt. I was telling your Sifter, how a Lady of 
my Acquaintance was cheated with two religious 
Servants. 

Second Neice. I heard the laft Part, and fhe was a 
nice one indeed. 

Aunt* O ! I have not told you one half of her Be 
haviour. * 

Sec. Neice. Well, but Madam, how did it fare with 
the Man Servant ? how did he behave ? 

Aunt. Why every Jot as ill another way When he 
ihould be at hand to be call d, and when his Mafter 
wanted him on any Occafion, he was gone to Church 
to Prayers; and when Prayers were done, he 
would often fall in as he came home at a certain Ale- 
houfe that unhappily ftood in the Way home, and I 
think once or twice came home drunk. 

Sec. Neice. Fine Things indeed for a confcientious 
Wretch ! Thefe were religious Servants it feems. 

Aunt. Hold Neice ! Religion, No, nor any Pro- 
feflion or Opinion in Religion is not altered one 
way or other, by the Miftakes and Mifcarriages of 
thofe that make a Profeffion of it. The Eleven 
blefled Apoftles were not at all the worfe, or 
is the memory of them to be the lefs reverenc d 
for the twelfth being a Devil ; nor muft we ex 
pect that all our Servants tfiould be Saints, when 
they are what we call religious : All People have 

Failings, 



33 o] 



.. 

Failings, Religion does not always change Natural 
Tempers. 

Sec. Neice. But we Ihould exped they ftiould be 
Chriftians and Servants too. Religion never 
takes away good Manners, or privileges Servants 
from obferving the due fpace which Nature has put 
between the Perfon to be ferv d, and the Perfon 
ferving. 

Firft Neice. The great Thing I iniift upon taking 
religious Servants for, is, that they may be Ex 
amples in a Family, of Sobriety, quiet Submiflion, 
Diligence and Serioufnefs, to their Fellow-Ser 
vants , that they may be Encouragers, not Hinder- 
crs, of God s Worlhip in the Houfe ^ that the whole 
Family may chearfully unite in ferving God, and 
in all religious Rules and Orders -, that if any ig 
norant untaught Creature is taken into the Houfe, 
they may be inftruded and led by the Hand into the 
proper Duties of a Chriftian ; that all the Houfe may 
be a Clafs of Chriftians, doing their Duty in their 
refpedive Places, both from a Principle of Juftice 
and of Charity, 

Aunt. But tis very rare, Neice, to find what you 
fpeak of. 

Firft Neice. It is fo, Madam : But then, fince it 
is not probable we fhould always find fuch, all that 
I infift on in the mean Time, is, that we fliould 
take care, as near as poflible, to take thofe that 
are well inclin d, and well educated,- not Ene 
mies to all Religion, not fuch as make a Mock of 
worihipping their Maker, or obferving his Rules ; 
fuch I would not entertain at all, on any Account: 
whatfoever , they would be a continual Offence in 
a fober Family. 

Sec. Neke&lt; But there are fome that may be in 
the middle way, no Enemies to Religion, not 
Mockers at all fober Things, and yet not much 

ftor d 



.If? 1 ! 

ftor d with ferious Thoughts, not void of Principle, 
nor void of Modefty. 

Aunt. Why, it is true, there are fome fuch, and 
I know not \\ hat to fay to fuch, I would rather have 
them than the other. 

Firft Neice. I like thofe but little better, I would 
have neither of them if I could help it. 

Aunt. It is true, that they always difcover a Cold- 
nefs and Backwardnefs to every .good Thing, and 
fecretly defpife the mo ft ferious Things as well as 
the other ; but good Manners reftrains them a little 
from infulting the Family. I do not like fuch, I 
conftfs. 

Sec. Neice. But they may be better born with, Ma 
dam, than the firft fort. 

Aunt- Well, but your Sifter here is fo far from ap 
proving that fort ; that even if they were ferioufly 
religious, /he would not entertain them if they 
were of a different Opinion , (he is of the fame 
Notion with my Cook Maid, that I told you the 
Story of, that all differing Opinions in Religion, 
will in fuch Creatures as thefe, defpife and con 
temn thofe that differ from them, and either hate or 
make a Jeft of one another. 

Sec. Neice. My Sifter, it may be, is grown rigid 
that way, from the Difafterofher Family with re- 
fpect to her Husband and her felf : But in carrying 
it fo far then, (he will make it almoft impoflible to 
have any Servants at all, but fuch as we bring up 
our felves. 

Firft Neice. It is no matter for that, I am pofi- 
tive in it with refpeit to a Family s Peace, and 
the Harmony of religious Worfhip in a Family ; 
it is all deftroy d and loft by thefe little Diffi 
culties: as long as there are Servants to be had, 
and I could pay Wages, I would change 500 Ser 
vants, till I found one to ipy Purpofe ; nor (hould 

any 

2 



any Fitnefs for my Bniinefs, or any Goodnefs of. 
Humour in a Servant, prevail with me to keep her, 
if (he wanted the main Article of Religion, and 
the fame Opinion of Religion too with my own. 

Aunt. I am afraid, Child, you would change 500 
indeed then, before you would be fitted. 

Firfl Neice. Why Madam, I hope I am not of fuch 
Grange Principles and Opinions, that no body can 
be found of thofe Opinions but me. 

Aunt. No, my Dear ; but Servants have rarely 
any Notions of thofe Things, or enter far into them. 

Firfl Neice. Well, Madam, I would venture it, for 
I would no more entertain thofe who differ d from 
my Opinion in Religion, then I would entertain 
thofe that had none at all j for the Difference in O- 
pinion in Servants, has more mifchiefs in it fome- 
times, than the other. 

Aunt. I grant it would be very well to have Ser 
vants of the fameOpinion in Religion with our fel ves, 
but it cannot be always fo ; the firft and main 
Point that I have made my Rule, has been to have 
Servants that are religioufly inclined in general, 
and that are willing to be intruded; thefe ha 
ving a modeft fober Behaviour in the main, are 
more eafily brought to comply with religious 
Things in the Family, whether they are the fame 
way that they were firft inclin d to or not ; fuch 
as thefe are often brought by good Examples in 
the Houfe, to be of the fame Opinion with our 
{elves. 

Sec. Neice. Such are indeed a great Tye up 
on Matters and Miftrefles of Families to take 
Care that we recommend the Profeffion we make 
of Religion by a good Example , for Servants are 
not likely to turn to our Opinion, or embrace 
with us the Part which we take in Religion, 
when they fee us not pra&ifing the Things we pre 
tend 



[ 333 



tend to teach, and not winning them to our Opini 
on by a Converfation becoming Religion. 

Aunt. It is very true, -Neice y aqd would Matters,- 
and Miftrefles keep upon their ; Minds a fenfe of 
what Influence their Conduft may have upon theic 
Servants ; how they may be .the means of bringing? 
them to a ferious" embracing of Religion, or to a 
greater Levity and Indifference than it may be they, 
had before, as they fee a good or ill example ia 
thofe they ferve, we fhould have much better Ma-% 
flers and Miftrefles than we have, and more religi 
ous Servants too. 

Firft Neice. That s very true, and it were to .be. 
wifh d it were well obferv d. .But fince it is not 
always fo, I cannot reconcile it to common Rea- 
foning, that we (hould take Servants of any Prin-. 
ciples or Opinion in Religion, but fuch as we pro- 
fefs our feives. 

Aunt. If it can be avoided. 

Firft Neice. Certainly it may be avoided if we 
will. 

Sec. Neice- You would except ftich as being, 
ignorant and untaught, profefs themfelves will 
ing to come into religious Families, that they 
may be guided into good Things by Teaching and 
Example. 

Firft Neice. Yes, I do except fuch; for fuch are to 
be moulded this way or that, as Providence cafts 
them into religious or irreligious Families. 

Aunt. We agree in that Part exadly , and in 
deed were I to choofe, I would rather take a Ser 
vant, who being ignorant in religious matters, was 
yet fober and willing to be inflruded j I fay much 
rather than take one fixt in his or her religi 
ous Opinion, and that Opinion differing from my 
own. 

Firft 



[ 334 ] 

ftrjt Neke* Indeed Madam, I am pofitive in that 
Point : I cannot go from it : I would not take one 
that differed from me in Opinion in Religion by 
any means; no, upon no Account at all; it is 
attended with nothing but Confufion in the Fami 
ly : I would almcft as foon take a loofe profane 
Wretch that own d no Religion at all : I have feen 
fo much of it, and found fuch Inconveniences in ha 
ving religious Quarrels and Differences in the Fa 
mily by it, that I think tis unfuflferable : I told 
you the Story of our poor Negro that would turn 
Chriftian : We had one Servant a Papift, and he 
would have the Boy a Roman Catholick ; another 
would have him be a Church of England Proteftant, 
and another would have had him been a Presbyte 
rian ; twas a Reproach even to the Name of 
Chriftian, to hear how one told him he would be 
damn d if he was this, another told him he would 
be damn d if he was that, . and the t other told him 
he would be damn d if he was either of them, and 
fo of the reft; fo that the poor Boy was al- 
moft diftraded among them, as I told you at large 
before* 

Aunt* Without entring into Examples, I grant tis 
very pernicious, and a great Obftrudion to Family- 
Religion, and that many ways. 

Sec. Neice* Were there a Spirit of Peace and 
Chanty always to be found, where there was an 
outward Appearance of Religion, it would be quite 
otherwife ; but that is not our Cafe in this Age : 
You fee, Madam, what was the Cafe in your Neigh 
bour s Family, where the religious Servants, I mean 
appearingly religious, were the worft Servants, 
and the worft Chriftians they could have met 
with. 

Aunt. I did not bring thofe Examples to leffen 
the Value of good, ferious, religious Servants ; 

but 



[ 33* ] 



but to hint to you the Danger there is (among thofe 
that call themfelves fuch) to find Hypocrites, and 
alfo to note that Religion does not always make a 
good Servant. 

Sec. Neice. It ought to do fo, and would do fa, 
if the Rules of Chriflianity were faithfully ob- 
ferved. 

Aunt. But it is not always fo, and therefore, as 
I fay, I would not take a Servant that was not re 
ligious, or religioufly inclin d ; fo I do not fay, that 
I would not for the fake of their being ferious and 
religioufly inclin d, take a bad Servant ; for Reli 
gion does not always qualify a Servant. 

Sec. Neice. No, Madam, Religion does not make 
them good-humour d, cleanly, active, diligent and 
mannerly, and the like ; it will make them faith 
ful and honeft, that is infeparable, but there is 
many a good Chriftian that makes a bad Ser 
vant. 

Aunt. But I know fome of them exped we fhould 
bear with all the reft, for being what they call re 
ligious. 

Firfl Neice. And perhaps are not fo at Bottom 
neither. 

Aunt. Nay, that fort of them are generally o- 
therwife, and put on an Appearance of Religion 
only to difguife themfelves the more dextroufly, and 
thefe are the religious Servants that I am apteft to 
be deceived by, but there are fome of the other 
too. 

Sec. Neice. Tisone of the worft Parts of a Hypo 
crite, I think, when they ftudy to cover a vitious 
Life with the Mask of Religion. 

Aunt. But I think too, that it is fooneft difco- 
ver d. 

Sec. Neice. It may indeed be fooner difcover d 
than other Difguifes, becaufe the Levity is apt to 

break 



break out at proper Intervals, in fpite of the utmoft 
Caution : But the Mifchief is often done firft, when 
the Difcovery is too late to prevent it , and there 
fore upon the whole, there is a great Rifque in ta 
king Servants, that we are, not very well aflur d of, 
one way or other. 

Firft Neice. But I hope you do not argue for being 
indifferent in the. Cafe. 

Sec. Neice. No, no , very far from it ; but I own, 
tis a critical Cafe. 

Firft Neice. Let it be as critical as it will, tis ab- 
folutely necefTary to be taken care of, if we will 
have religious Servants. *Tis a fad Thing to have 
the Matter or Miftrefs pray ing in one Part of the 
Houfe, and the Men and Maids fwearing or rail 
ing, or laughing or jeering in another Part of it. 
Next to having the Mafter and Miftrefs religious, ic 
is eflential to a religious Family, to have the Ser 
vants religious too. 

Set. Neice. If it be poffrble to find fuch 

Fir ft Neice. They muft be found religious or be 
made fo. 

Sec. Niece. *Tis but coarfe Work to new-mould 
a Servant : As you find them, you have them ge 
nerally. Moft of the Servants of this Age are 
too far gone to be brought back, and not hum 
ble enough to be meddled with, I mean as to In- 
ftrudion. 

Aunt. I cannot fay fo ; I am thankful that I can 
fay, that I have had a loofe, wicked, irreligious Ser 
vant or two, who by taking fome Pains with them, 
have been brought to be very ferious and very re 
ligious. 

Sec. Neice. Then they have thank d God for your 
bettering them by your Inftru&ion. 

Aunt. So they have, I affure you Neice. 

Ftrfl 



C 337 ] 

Firfl Neice. But they were originally of a docible, 
tradable Temper flien, -which is very rare among 
Servants. But, Madam, allow you could take 
that Task upon you, and your Application had 
fuccefs, you would not exped that every Mi- 
ftrefs like you, fliould fet up for an Inflru&or of 
their Servants. 

Aunt. No, no ; but it is not fo hopelefs a thing 
however, as you may imagine i for if a Girl has 
any Modefty, (he cannot but liflen a little to the 
Inftrudion of thofe that wifh her fo well, and that 
have fo little Obligation upon them to do it. 

Firfl Neice. Why, Madam, an untaught Wench 
that is modeft and willing to be intruded, I take, 
as I faid before, to be among the Number that are 
fit to be taken : The very Example of a religious 
Family, will make her religious alfo. 

Aunt. My Dear, you touch us all there, and that 
upon a nice Point too , it muft be confefs d that it is 
becaufe there are fo few religious Families, that 
there are fo few religious Servants. 

Firft Neice. That is true, Madam ; but on the o- 
ther hand, loofe, profane, irreligious Servants are a 
great Hindrance to the fetting up a religious Fa 
mily. Thofe I am utterly againft. 

Aunt. And that is the Reafon, Child, that I fay, 
they fhould not betaken into our Families. 

Firfl Neice. And fhould be turn d out again as 
foon as difcover d, and that without any Certi 
ficate given them of their good Behaviour, or 
without giving them what we call a good Cha 
racter. 

Aunt. We cannot deny them a Certificate, Child, 
when they have not wrong d or robb d us, the Law 
requires that of us. 

Z Rr/t 



[338] 

Fir ft Neice. But then, Madam, the Certificate 
(hould mention that I difmifVd fuch a Man, or 
fuch a Maid, for being a profane, irreligious Per- 
fon, or for breaking the Sabbath-Day, or for not 
going to Church when ordered to go there, or for 
going abroad to be merry, when they (hould have 
been at Church, and fuch like, as the cafe may hap 
pen to be. 

Aunt. I own there is a great deal of Reafon to do 
fo , but we are apt to think it hard to do fo, and 
that it is taking a poor Servant s Livelyhood from 
them. 

Firfl Neice. But we (hould confider too, how much 
harder it is to pufh a profligate Wretch into a fober 
Family, under the Recommendation of a falfe Cha- 
rader. We cannot fay we do Juftice to our Neigh 
bour, or do as we would be done by : For ftill I go 
back to what we both faid before, that irreligious 
Servants are a great Hindrance to Matters and 
Miftrefles in fettingup religious Rules and Exercifes 
in their Families. 

Aunt. Ay, and a great Difcouragement in car 
rying them on, when they are fet up ; and for both 
thofe Reafons I would advife all my Friends to take 
no Servants that had not fome Senfe of Religion up 
on them. 

Sec- Neice. I join heartily with my Sifter in her 
Opinion, if fuch Servants can be had ; but what 
then mult be done when we get irreligious and 
profane Creatures into our Houfes, and cannot 
help it ; or find them fo, when we expe&ed the 
contrary ? 

Aunt. Do ! My Dear ! The cafe is plain ; we 
muft not let Servants laugh us out of our Reli 
gion : We muft go on in the Way of our Du 
ty, and fet up the Worfhipof God in the Houfe; 

and 



339 ] 



and as often as we find the Servants flout at it^ or 
contemn it, return the Contempt upon themfelves, 
and turn them out, but go on to perform the 
Duty : Turn them all away, that pretend to be 
have irreverently, or pretend to mock or feoff at it ,- 
I fay, turn them all away, and let it be the (land 
ing known Rule in the Family, that all the Ser 
vants that come may hear of it as foon as they 
converfe in the Houfe } then they will know what 
they have to truft to, and will behave according 
ly. Tis omitting our Duty in our Families, not 
our performing it, that makes Servants mock. When 
they fee us religious to Day, and wicked to mor 
row, they may well feoff; but where ferious Re 
ligion is (leddily maintain d in a Family, ic com 
mands that Awe and Reverence of Servants, that 
they grow religious of courfe. Thus one good 
Family breeds good Servants for another, and the 
good Examples of a fober Family makes the Ser 
vants all fober. 

Sec. Neice* I acknowledge all that : But I have 
not pradis d that Part indeed, of turning them a- 
way for their irreligious profane Carriage when 
difcover d. I have endeavoured to get religious 
Servants, but when I have found them otherwife, 
I have not turn d them off, which indeed I fhould 
have done. 

Aunt. So far you are wrong, my Dear ; for why 
not put away a Coachman, or Chambermaid, as 
w r ell for being wicked as idle, for being an Offender 
againft Heaven, as well as for being an Offender 
againft our felves ? I think the Reafoning is every 
way as good. 

Sec. Neice- It may hold in many cafes. 

Aunt- Indeed, Neice &gt; I think it will hold in all 
cafes ; and I can give you fome Inftances where 

Z 2 ic 



it has been very happily pra&is d, and where Ser 
vants knowing it before, have behav d much the 
better on that Account : But tis late now j we will 
talk of that Part another Time, 




DIA- 



] 



DIALOGUE III. 




Few Days after this Lady and her two 
Neices had difcours d this Point about 
Servants, the Aunt and both her Neices, 
that is to fay, the eldeft of the Sifters 
and the Widow, had another Dialogue 
upon the Subjed of giving a Character to Servants, 
and the Juftice that was to be done in it on one fide 
and on the other, on the following Occafion. 

The Eldeft Sifter had taken a very Scoundrel 
idle Jade of a Servant, and that too after having 
receiv d a very good Character of her from a Gentle 
woman with whom fhe had liv d before ; and fhe 
complain d heavily of the Injuftice of it, and that fhe 
had been abus d by the faid Gentlewoman, and was 
telling her Tale to her Aunt, which introduced the 
following Dialogue. 

Aunt. I find, Child, you lay all the Fault of your 
being difappointed upon the Wench s former Mi- 
ftrefs ; you don t feem to fay the Maid her felf has 
deceived you. 

Firft Neice. Indeed, Madam, I am deceiv d both 
ways; but I blame the Maid s former Miftrefs 
moft. &lt; 

Aunt. Why fo ? Did not the Maid pretend to be 
otherwife than you find her ? 

Z 3 Firft 



[ 34 2 ] 



Pirfl Neke. Yes, Madam, that is true ; but I did 
not expect fo much from a Maid when (he came to 
be hir d : I did not expect fhe fhould tell me her own 
Faults. 

Aunt. Well, bat on the other hand, you did not 
exped: fhe fhould tell you fhe was able to dp what 
file did not underfbnd, or fhould undertake what fhe 
was no ways qualified to perform. 

Firfl Neice. No, that s true, Madam: But fhe 
was willing to gee into a good Place. 

Aunt. And to do it, fhe muft be allow d to intro 
duce her felf by a parcel of Lies and Shams, and 
pretend to be what fhe has no Pretence to, I think 
that as bad as any of the reft. 

Sec. Neice- I join with my Aunt in that Part. I 
think the Law fhould have provided fome Punifh- 
ment for Servants, that give themfelves Characters 
they not deferve, as well as for other pieces of Dif- 
honefty ; for in fhort, it is a downright Fraud, a 
Cheat and a piece of Difhonefty, intolerable ; for 
Example, a Cook comes and hires her felf to me, 
to ferve as flich, and when fhe has undertaken the 
Bufinefs, it appears fhe underftands nothing of 
Cookery, acd has never been anything but a mid 
dle Maid to wafh and fcrub the Rooms and the 
like ; or a Chambermaid offers her felf, and tells 
me fhe knows how to make Manteaus, cut Hair, 
clear-flarch, and the like; and when it comes to 
the Trial, acknowledges fhe does not underftand 
any of them,, or only this, and not that, as it hap 
pens \ why fhculd not this Maid be ptinifhed, as 
well as fhe that, pretending to be honeft, proves a 
Thief? 

Aunt. No, Child ; fhe does deferve to be ill 
us d : but the Cafe differs as to a Thief; for fhe 
is punifh d not for pretending Honefty, and de 
ceiving 



C 343 3 

ceiving me in her Character, but for her a&uai 
Theft and robbing me of my Goods. 

Sec. Neice. Well, Madam, then the Punifhment 
fhould differ too. I do not fay (he (hould be hang d, 
but I think fhe fhould be punifh d however fooie 
Avay or other. 

Fir ft Neice* We have Ways to punifh fuch a Ser 
vant, and all Servants too, if all Miftreffes would 
but be juft to themfelves and to one another. We 
might make up the Deficiency of the Law in 
that cafe to our felves very eafily, and the Want 
of doing our felves Juftice is the Thing I com 
plain of. 

Aunt. How would you make it up ? 
Fir ft Neice. Why, Madam, whenever any fuch 
Servant came to me, I would be fure to turn her 
away again with all the Refentment that her Be 
haviour required, and when fhe fent any future 
Miflrefs to me for a Character, I would do her 
Juftice. 

Sec Neice. You fhould fay, Sifter, that you would 
do the Gentlewoman Juftice who came to enquire 
of you about her. 

Aunt. Why truly you put it right there, Neice. 
Sec. Neice. Indeed, Madam, that is the Founda 
tion of all the Grievance we are under about Ser 
vants, that we make no Confcience of doing one 
another Juftice when we make Enquiries after the 
Character of one anothers Servants. 

. Firfl Neice. Why, we are loth to hinder poor Ser 
vants ; for to take away their Character is to take 
away their Bread. 

Sec. Neice. We may fay the fame of a Thief, or 
a Houfe- breaker, w hen we find them in our Houfes 
or Gardens, and take them even in the very Fad : 
We are loth to ruin them for it ; that it was Ne- 
ceflity forc d them to do what they did, and if 

Z 4 we 



[.344 1 . 

we have them committed, they will be hang d or 
tranfported ; nay the Argument is flronger, becaufe 
the Injury done may have been trifling, and the 
Pimiftrment there is Lofs of Life, which we may be 
loth to be concern d in. 

Fir ft Neice. You carry the Cafe a great deal too 
high, Sifter; I cannot think they are alike. 

Sec. Neice. Truly, Sifter, I think tis much the 
fame but of the two here is the greater Obliga 
tion. 

Aunt. I believe I take your Notion right, Neice; 
the Obligation is this ; if I take the Thief, and 
give him up to the Law, he is undone, and his Life 
mult pay for it ; and tis a fad Thing for me 
to let a poor Fellow be put to Death or tranfported 
for robbing me of a Trifle. But on the other 
Hand I am to confider, (i.) I am oblig d by the 
Law to do it; that it is not I that put him to 
Death, but the Laws of his Country, and his own 
Crime is the Caufe of it , and I am an Offender 
againfl that very Law, and in fome fenfe a Con 
federate with him, at leaft an Encourager of him 
in his $rime, if I omit it : But which is more than 
that, (2.) By my perh aps unfeafonable and in 
deed unjuft Compaflion, I become acceffary to ail 
the Robberies he (hall be guilty of after it; be 
caufe if I had done as the Law directed me, I had 
put him out of a Condition to rob or injure any 
other Perfon. 

Sec. Neice. You have fully explained my Mean 
ing, Madanty and I take the Cafe to be the fame } I 
by no means do as I ought, or as the Law directs, 
if when my Neighbour taking a Servant after me, 
and coming to me for a Character of her, I de 
cline fpeaking the Truth of her, ay and the whole 
Truth too* 



C 345 ] 



Firft Neice. Then no Servant would get a Place 
as Servants are now* 

Aunt. Then, Neice^ they would be more humble, 
and careful how they behfave. 

Firft Neice. It is a nice Cafe, and we ought to 
take great care then, that we do not injure 
them. 

Sec* Neice That s true, we ought to do them no 
Wrong j but we do the Perfon that is to take them 
an irreparable Wrong, if we recommend an ill 
Servant to them. 

Aunt. Nay, we break another Law that you have 
not thought of yet ; for we do not do in it as we 
wou d be done by, which is the great Chriftian 
Rule. 

Sec. Neice. Not only fo, Madam^ but we do as 
we wou d not be done by , for would any of us if 
we go to inquire of a Servant, be told flie was 
honeft, whenfhe was a Thief? That (he was neat 
when fhe was nafty - 3 tight when (he was a Slattern ; 
diligent when fhe was idle; quiet when flie was 
faucy; and modeft when (he was, it may be, a bold 
Hufly? and the like. 

Aunt. I obferve, indeed, there is a general Back- 
wardnefs in People whenever we go to inquire 
about a Servant. A Miftrefs cannot be fuppos d 
to recommend earneftly, becaufe it is to be granted, 
that (he parted with the Servant for fomething or 
other. But fhe is therefore on the other Hand jfhy 
and backward, and will fay nothing or but lit 
tle of the real Character of the Servant, becaufe, 
forfooth, ilie would not hinder her of a Place ; 
and indeed I would be very loth my felf to ruin 
a poor Girl, becaufe I did not like her -, but I 
do think, as you fay, Neice^ we MiftrefTes are too 

backward 



backward to be free with one another in fuch 
Cafes. 

Sec. Neice. It would not only anfvver the End,, 
Madam, as to the Law-part, but it would bring 
Servants back to be Servants again, as they us d to 
be, and as they ought to be ; for really they can 
hardly be call d Servants now. 

Fir ft Neice, I with it was with us in the cafe of 
our Maias, as it is with the Gentlemen in the cafe 
of their Men-Servants, 1//&. That we fhould be o- 
blig d to give Certificates to our Maids when they 
went away. 

6W. Neice. Why even then, the Cafe would be the 
fame ; for if the Form of the Certificate was not 
fettled too by the Ac~t of Parliament, we fhould 
fign any Thing they defir d of us. 

Firft Neice. Nay, Sifter, that would be our 
Faults. 

Aunt. Why, fo it is our Faults now, Child, if we 
give them wrong Characters. 

Firfl Neice. I do not fay we fhould give wrong 
Characters , but I (hould be loth to fay the utmoft 
of a poor Servant, and fo prejudice every body a- 
gainft her ; perhaps what ihe did amifs with me, 
(he might mend with another, and perhaps what 
might not pleafe me, another might bear with. 

Sec. Neice. I will put an End to all that im 
mediately, Sifter : I do not mean that I fhould 
enter into a long Accufation of a Servant, and 
give the Hiftory of her Life j or that I would blaft 
her for Trifles, or give her an ill Name for not 
fuiting exadly to my Temper. But I fpeak in 
capital eflential Articles, fuch as denominate a 
Wench a good or a bad Servant, and I ll cell 
you a Cafe j when I went to a Lady my felf to 

inquire 



[347] 



inquire about a Chambermaid who had been fent 
to me by another Perfon. 

Aunt. But what was the Perfon that fent or re 
commended her ? Did (he know her ? 

Sec. Neice. She was an honeft well-meaning 
poor Woman that us d to help me to Maids when 
I wanted. 

Aunt. But then, I fuppofe did not know much 
of her, of her own Knowledge. 

Sec. Neice. No, Madam, but the Maid gave me 
an Account where tfie had liv d laft, and I went 
to the Lady, and told her I came to inquire of 
fuch a Maid-Servant, who, as foe had faid, had 
liv d with her. Yes, (he told me, fhe had liv d 
with her. 

Pray how long did /he live with you, Madam ? 
faid L 

Pray, Madam, how long does fhe fay fhe liv d 
with me ? fays fhe. 

Almoft a Year, Madam, fays I; I think it want 
ed but a Month or thereabouts; at which fhe 
made a kind of a Hum, and faid nothing for a 
while. 

Now I did not like the Way of anfwering my 
Queftion with a Queftion ; for I thought fhe might 
have told me poiitively how long the Maid had 
liv d with her, and left me to judge whether die 
had fpoke Truth, whereas by returning the Quefiion 
upon me, fhe kept it in her own Bread to ac- 
cufe or excufe her. So I turn d it fhort upon 
her. I hope, Madam, fays 7, You will be fo pUin 
with me, as to let me know whether Ihe fays true 
or not. 

Yes, yes, Madam, fays fhe. 
This furpnVd me again ,- for this had a double 
meaning as plain as could be, and it was impof- 
iible to know whether flie meant, Yes, that it 

was 



. 

was as the Maid had faid, or Yes, that fhe would 
lee me know whether the Maid had faid true or 
no. So I ftopp d a while to give her Time to go 
on, and explain her feif -, but finding fhe did not, 
I repeated my Queftion. Pray, Madam, fays /, be 
pleas d to let me know exadly how long fhe liv d 
with you. 

Why, Madam, fays fie, not quite a Year , the 
Maid fays true in that. 

I was far from being fatisfy d with that Kind of 
Anfwer, the manner of drawing out her Words 
fhewing me plainly, that the Wench had lyed. 
However, left I fhould quarrel with her too foon, 
and fo have no more out of her, I dropp d it and 
ask d her fome other Qyeftions. 

Pray, Madam, fays /, is fhe a good Workwo 
man ? 

Yes, yes, fays fie, /he does her Work well e- 
nough. 

This was all Equivocation again. Any body 
would have underftood by my Queftion that I in 
quired if fhe was good at her Needle, but fhe would 
not take it as I meant it, and put it off with an An 
fwer which might be true, if the Wench knew but 
how to make a Bed, or fweep a Room , fo I ex- 
plain d my felf and faid, Madam, by a good Work 
woman I mean at her Needle, I hope you under- 
{land me. 

Truly, Madam, fays fie, I think fhe is well e- 
nough, I never put her to much of that Kind, ha* 
ving other Hands in the Houfe. 

Well, there fhe came better off with me a little 
than before, but ftill all this gave me no Character 
of the Maid, fo I went on. 

Pray, Madam, fays /, What do you fay to her 
Honefty ? She is horieft, I hope. 

I havo 



[ 349 ] 

I have no Reafon to tax her Honefty, fays JJje^ (he 
never wrong d me of any Thing that 1 know of; 
I charge her with nothing. 

Even this was but a very indifferent way of 
vouching for a Girl s Honefly, and if (he was really 
honeft, (he \vas not juft to her. 

Well, Madam, fays 7, may I ask you what was 
the Occafion of your parting with her. 

O, Madam , fays Jbe, we parted indeed ; fhe and 
I could not agree , I am paflionate and pretty 
troublefome, and my Maid and I could not hit it, 
but (he may do very -well with another. Perhaps 
other Miftrefles may not be fo humorfome and dif 
ficult as I am ; (he may do very well , I affure you, 
(he knows how to pleafe any body but me ; (he told 
me fo her felf. 

I was indeed provok d now, and anfwer d, Ma- 
dam, you are pleas d to give your felf fome hard 
Words j but I beg you will allow me to fay, I 
did not come for a Character of the Maid s Mi- 
ftrefs, but a Character of the Maid j and I doubt 
by your Difcourfe, you are willing to recommend 
yonr Maid s Character at the expence of your 
own. 

She only fmil d at me when I faid thus, and faid 
again, (he was very difficult and ill to pleafe j but 
Betty might do very well with another. 

I prefs d her again to let me know what (he 
parted with her Maid for, but ftill (he fhuffled me 
off, and gave me the cunningeft evafive Anfwers, 
Betty her felf could not have put me off with half 
the dexterity as her Miftrefs did j fo I made my 
Honours as if I was going away. 

Madam, fays 7, You are exceeding tender of 
your Maid : but I cannot fay, you are equally juft 
to a Stranger, that yon fee refolv d to depend up 
on your Word for the Charader of a Servant. 

How- 



However, I fhall take ic the way I hope you in 
tend it, namely, that tho it may not be for the 
Girl s Advantage to have the Particulars of her Be 
haviour told ; yet you would have me underftand by 
it, that her Conduct will not bear a Character, and 
that you would not have me venture upon her, and 
I (hall take your Advice. 

At this (he feem d concern d, as if (he had ex- 
peded that her awkward way of talking of the 
Wench had fatisfy d me, and that I did not un- 
derftand her, and as I offer d to go, Pray, Madam* 
fays foe, don t fay fo ; Betty may make you a very 
good Servant ; I am forry you iliould take me fo ; 
the Maid may do very well in another Place, tho 
ihe might not fuit me. 

As I was talking, I obferv d, that in the Drawing- 
Room to the Room we fat in, there fat a Gentle 
man reading in a great Book, and every now and 
then he look d off of his Book when his Wife (for it 
Washer Husband) fpoke, as if he was furpriz d at 
what (he faid, and as the Folding-Doors flood wide 
open, fo that the Rooms were, as it were, let both 
into one, he heard all we faid, and I perceiv d that 
as he look d off of his Book when his Wife fpoke, fo 
he almoft laugh d out right when I fpoke. 

At laft, as if he was not able to hold any long 
er, he clapp d up the Book pretty hard, and 
threw it by, and came forward into the Room 
we were in, and making me a very low Bow as 
he pafs d, he offer d to go out, when his Lady 
ftept up to him, and faid fomething foftly which 
he anfwer d foftly, and with abundance of good 
Humour in his Face faid to his Wife, my Dear, 
I will not interrupt you,* upon which I offer d 
to go away : By no means, Madam, faid he, my 
Bufinefs is of no moment. So taking hold of 
his Wife s Hand, he as it were turn d her to- 
i wards 



[35 



wards me, and at going away, my Dear, fays he, 
don t held the Lady in Sufpenfe about your Maid, 
for I hear chat is the Bufinefs ; let her have a true 
Character of her ; you would be glad to be dealt 
plainly with your felf : His Wife fmiPd but faid 
nothing at firll, but prefently turning to him, 
and all in a pleafaut good Humour, fhe gave him 
a little Tap on the Arm with her Hand. Do you 
give a Character of her if you think I han t done 
it well. Muft I ? Says he : Why then, Madam&gt; 
fays he to me, with my Wife s Leave, Hie is a 
damn d Jade, a horrid Scold, a Liar, and tho flie 
has, I believe, ftolen nothing from us, was a 
Thief in the Place where fhe came laft from, which 
we heard of fince, and for that very thing my Wife 
turn d her away. 

I made him a Curfy, and told him I was great 
ly oblig d to him for fo much Sincerity, and 
found his Lady had been only tender of the Maid s 
Character, but had not at all recommended her. 
Why, Madam^ fays he, my Wife was cheated in 
this Wench, only by the People fhe liv d with 
before giving her ambiguous Anfwers, and fpeak- 
ing as favourably of her as they could, and that 
is the Ruin of us all, adds he, in taking Ser 
vants. 

But, Sir, fays I* the Lady fhe liv d with before 
did your Lady a great deal of Wrong if fhe knew 
her to be what you fay fhe was in her Service. 

I don t know, Madam y how twas for that : I 
never meddle with thefe Things, fays he, but I 
believe my Wife was not fo nice in her Inquiries 
as you are ; or if fhe was, (he was eafier to be 
cheated in their Anfwers ; and tis the Ladies 
being thus backward to give juft and plain Ac 
counts to one another, that is the Reafon that 
fuch a wretched Gang of Wenches run from 

Houfc 



3 



Houfe to Houfe, and get Places, and behave in 
them as they do. Would the Ladies, fays he, be 
juft to one another, fpeak plain and honeftly, 
and give the Creatures fuch Characters as they 
deferve, they would take Care to deferve better 
Charaders, and not behave fo infolently and fo 
faucily as they do. This Jade, Madam, fays he, 
that you come to inquire of, has infulted and 
taunted her Miftrefs two or three Times, at fuch 
a Rate, that I have been forc d to fend a Foot 
man into the Room to bring her out by Head 
and Shoulders, for fear her Miftrefs fhould be 
frighted, and yet fhe is fo good to that Slut, that 
ihe cannot find in her Heart to fpeak the Truth 
of her. 

My Dear, fays the Lady, I have not faid any 
Thing but Truth of her. 

No, my Dear, fays he, I do not mean fo, but 
you have not faid all the Truth of her. 

Well, my Dear, fays Jbe again^ I was not upon 
my Oath. 

Why, that is true too, Child, faid he, but you 
are upon your Honour, and that is equivalent to 
an Oath ; and it would be hard to have this Lady 
left to take fuch a Devil into her Houfe, merely 
for fear of injuring the Wench ; why you would 
injure the Family you fuffer to take her, much 
more than the Maid. Let her go feek her Fortune 
where no body knows her, and there /he may 
have time to mend her Manners, and come to 
Town again. 

Aunt. Why, Neice, this Gentleman was your 
Inftruftor. I think tis juft his Language that you 
fpeak ; only I think you did not talk fo moderate 
ly quite as he does. 

Sec. Neice* And very good Language too, Ma 
dam; tis for want of this Gentleman s Rule that 



"[353.3 

we have any faucy, infolent, idle Servants in the 
World. 

Fir ft Neice. It would make Servants more cau- 
-tious of their Behaviour I confefs : But then, Si 
fter, it would put it into the Power of Miftref- 
fes to ruin poor Servants when they pleas d, and 
even when there was no good Caufe ; the Bread 
of a Servant would depend upon the Breath of a 
Miftrefs. 

Sec. Neice. There is no good in this World with 
out a mixture of Evil ; no Convenience without its 
Inconvenience,- but the damage that way, if it 
fhould be fo at any time, is infinitely lefs than the 
mifchief to Families which comes by the infolence 
and \vickednefs of Servants. 

Aunt. Nay, by the univerfal Degeneracy of Ser 
vants, you might have faid ; for even thofe we call 
good Servants at this Time, are quite different 
Things from what they were informer Times, ay, 
even fince I can remember. 

Sec. Neice. Well, Madam^ but I could propofe a 
Remedy even againfl that Part which my Sifter 
objects againft, of doing Servants wrong ; for I cio 
not deny that fome Miftrefles may injure their 
Servants, and there ought to be no wrong on either 
hand. 

Firfl Neice. I have known a Miftrefs refufe to give 
a poor Servant a Character, only becaufe llie was 
unwilling to part with her, and yet at the fame 
time ufe her ill too. 

Sec. Neice. Such Things may happen, I do not 
deny that. 

Ftrft Neice. I have alfo known a Miftrefs injure a 
Servant by her partiality in favour of other Ser 
vants, and give a Maid an ill Character when /lie 
has not deferv d it, by the mere Reproaches rais d 
on her by others. 

A a Sec. 



[35+] 



Sec. Neice. It is not poffible to reckon up all the 
Cafes in which a Miftrefs may injure a Servant ; 
tis true, and there can no Rule be fet fo exa&, as 
that no Body Jhall be opprefs d : But I have two 
Things to fay ; 

1. All the Injuftice that can be fuppos d to hap 
pen that Way, is not equal to that which 
Mifirefles and Families now fufter from the 
infolence and bafenefs of Servants ; and 
therefore the Remedy is to be embrac d, and 
the letter Evil chofen. 

2. There may be methods directed by the Law, 
that in fuch Cafes where Miftrefles have no 
thing Capital to charge upon a Servant, they 
fhali be obliged to give them Certificates of 
their Behaviour. 

Aunt. I have often thought of that ; but un- 
lefs the Form of that Certificate be fettled and 
adjufled by that very Aft of Parliament, the Mi 
firefles will jnft write what they pleafe, and when 
they are prejudiced againft a Servant, will fay no 
thing in their Certificates that fhall do them any 
Service, or recommend them at all to any one 
elfe. 

Sec. Neice. Thofe muft be very malicious People 
that wil] go that length, with a Servant. 

Firft Neice. But fuch People there are, and fuch 
perhaps always will be. 

Sec. Neke. Well, there may be a Remedy for 
that too, for there may be two or three feveral 
Forms of Certificates direded by the Law ; one 
Voluntier, and full to all the Behaviour -of a Ser 
vant, and the other to her Honefty and Sobriety 
only. 

Aunt. 



[ 355 ] 

Aunt&gt; Why then, Child, no body would take a 
Servant that had only your Second Rate Certifi 
cate , they would prefently fay, her Miftrefs had 
given no Character but what fhe could not help. 

Sec. Neice. I rather think, Madam, that all Ser 
vants would content themfelves with what you are 
pleas d to call my Second Rate Certificate. 

Aunt. Come let us hear what kind of Certificate 
it is, if you are Lawyer enough to draw it up. 

Sec. Neice. I am not Lawyer enough to draw it 
up in Form } but it fliould be to this Purpofe, 
Madam* 

The Certificate. 

/ A. B. do hereby certify that the 
^Bearer hereof M. B. livd with 
me as a Chambermaid one Tear 
and a Quarter , ending the 
Day of loft) during which 

Ttmejbe behav d her felf honejlly, 
modejlly, and dutifully, as became a 
Servant. 

Witnefs my Hand, 
A. B. 

Aunt. Why truly, Neice, a Servant that could noc 
deferve fo much Character as that, no body ought 
to take. 

A a 3 



[356] 

Sec. Neice. Well, Madam^ and a Servant that did 
deferve fo much Character as that, no Miftrefs 
ought to deny. 

Tfirft Sift. But fuppofe, Sifter, a Miftrefs would 
malicioufly deny it, as I faid before. 

Sec. Neice. Why then the Maid fhould have the 
fame remedy as fhe has for her Wages, viz,. Com 
plain to a Juftice of Peace, that in cafe upon the 
Miftrefs s being heard, if fhe could not give fuffici- 
ent reafons and proof of the Fad for which fhe re- 
fus d fuch a Certificate, the Juftice fhould fign the 
Certificate to the Maid, intimating that having 
heard all that could be alledgM, he did not find 
there was fufficient caufe for refufing it. 

Aunt. Well, Neice, and what was your Firft Rate 
Certificate pray, that you call this the Second ? 

Sec. Neice. Why, Madam, when a MiftreTs may 
have a kindnefs for a Servant, and is willing to 
give her an extraordinary Recommendation, fhe 
may add, that /3ie is a very good Needle-woman, 
or that fhe is a very good Cook, that fhe was 
not only faithful but diligent, and fo in other 
Cafes : But as I faid, I believe any Servant will 
be contented with the Second, which is fuffici- 
ent. 

Firft Neice. I agree that the giving fuch Certifi 
cates, would put an end to thefe Inquiries. 

Sec. Neice. Which oftentimes leave us in the dark, 
as much as we were before they are made, nay, and 
fometimes more a great deal. 

Aunt. That is our Fault indeed, that we will 
not with freedom and plainnefs acquaint one ano 
ther, what we are to exped from the Maids we 
hire ; and tis prefuming upon this charitable Dif- 
pofition of Miftrefles, that Maids behave fo faucily 
as they do. 

Sec. 



[357] 



Sec. Neice* Well, if any of my Maids go from me, 
I tell them plainly before-hand what they are to ex- 
ped of me, and what kind of Charader I fhail give 
them, if they fend any body to me. 

Firfl Neice. And what Effed has it upon them? 
Are they the better for it ? 

Sec.-Neice. Why, I ll tell you what Effed it had 
upon one of my Maids. I had told her my mind 
very roundly one Day, upon Occafion of fomething 
I did not like, and truly my Maid turned very 
fhort upon me, and told me /lie was forry (he 
could not pleafe me, and hop d I would provide 
my feif then,- I told her, that fhe fliould not fay, 
{he coukl not pleafe me, but that fhe would not 
pleafe me. 

She anfwer d very pertly, that it was as / would, 
I might take it which Way If leased. 

Very well, fays I, Mary, you are very tart with 
me. I hope when you fend your next Miftrefs to 
me for a Charader, you will exped to hear thofe 
very Words again. 

Why, wou d I be fo barbarous, faidjhe^ to rip up 
Words that pafs d in Anger, and give them for 
the Charader of any Servant ? 

No, Alary 9 fays I, you fliould not fay, will I be 
fo barbarous ; you fhould fay, would I be fo ho- 
neft, as to give a Charader of you from your own 
Mouth. Depend upon it, Mary, fays I, I (hall not 
be fo unjuft to any Miftrefs to conceal a thing of 
that Moment from them,- why, it would be doing 
them the greateft Injury in the World. 

She flood ft ill a good while, and faid nothing; 
but as fhe faw me looking at her, as if I expeded 
an Anfwer, the Girl fell a crying, run to me, 
and offering to kneel to me, begg d my Pardon, 
and told me fhe hop d I would allow her to re- 
cal her Warning, for ihe was refolv d ihe would 

live 



lives with me till Ihe had defervM a better Clu- 
ra&er. 

Aunt. Poor Girl! I fhould have told her (he 
might go when /lie would then, for (he had deferv d 
a better Character juft then. 

Sec. Neke. I did not fay fo to her, but I would not 
Jet her kneel ; and I told her I would not infift upon 
her Warning ; for as long as flie behav d fo to me, I 
believ d I (hould never put her away. 

Aunt Well, but did (he mend afterward ? 

Sec. Neice. Indeed (he was a very good Servant 
before, only a little hafty and impatient of Re 
proof ; but (he prov d the beft Servant after it that 
any body ever had. She is with me ft ill. 

Aunt* It is certainly fo, if we gave fair, bold and 
juft Characters of them, and it once came to be the 
Cuflom or general Ufage among Miftrefles, Servants 
would quickly carry it after another manner ; at 
leaft they would take care to part upon as good Terms 
as they could with their Miftreffes. 

Sec- N^ce. And we (hould not cheat one another 
as we do now f , in giving Characters to the vile ft 
Creatures that fall in our Way. 



FINIS. 




BOOKS printed for Emanuel Matthews, 
at the Bible in Pater-nofter-rovv. 

APra&ical Exposition on the Old and New Tefla- 
ment in Six Volumes in Folio, by the late Re 
verend Mr. Matthew Henry* Minifter of the Go- 
fpel. N. 8. The Sixth Volume being never before print 
ed may be had by it felf. 

i . The Pleafantnefsj&gt;f a Religious Life, open d and 
prov d. The Fourth .Edition. 

z. Sober-mindednefs prefs d upon Young People, in a 
Difcourfe on Tittts ii. 6. The Fourth Edition. 

3. A Sermon preach d at Chefter* on Occafion of 
Opening the New Meeting-houfe there Atiguft,%. 1700. 
Thefe three by the fame Author. 

An Account of the Life and Death of Mr. Matthew 
Henry* chiefly collected out of his own Papers, and 
faithfully publifh d by the Reverend Mr. William 
fong. The Second Edition. 

The Pfalms of ^David in Metre, fitted to the Tunes 
ufed in Churches by the Reverend John Patrick* D. D. 
Preacher to the Charter-houfe, London. 

The Chriftian Philofopher : A Collection of the bed 
Difcoveries in Nature, with Religious Improvements, 
by the Reverend Cotton Mather* D. D. and Fellow of 
the Royal Society. 

1 . Sermons on Several Subjects, in 8. 

2. Hymns and Spiritual Songs in Three Parts, with a 
Set of Tunes 5 thefe Two by the Reverend Mr. Simon 
Browne. 

A Treatife of That being Born Again, without which 
no Man can be faved : To which is added, A Difcourfe 
on the duty and advantage of fingular Piety: And fome 
Extracts from a late Writer fuited to the defign of this 
Treatife, by the Reverend Mr.^. Wrigbt. The Eleventh 
Edition. 

,A 



B O OKS fold by E. Matthews. 

1. A Guide to Prayer, or a free and rational Account 
of the Gift, Grace, and Spirit of Prayer, with plain Direc 
tions how every Chriftian may attain them. The Fourth 
Edition, corrected. 

2. Prayers compofcd for the ufe and imitation of 
Children, fuited to their different Ages and their various 
Occafions : Together with Instructions to Youth. The 
Second Edition. 

"3. The Art of reading and writing Evglijh. The 
Third Edition. 

4. DifTertations, relating to the Chriftian Doctrine of 
the Trinity. In Two Parts. 

5. An Effay towards the Encouragement of Charity 
Schools. 

6. The Knowledge of the Heavens and the Earth made 
eafy $ or the Firft Principles of Aftronomy and Geogra 
phy, explained by the ufe of Globes and Maps. The 
Second Edition. 

7. Difcourfes of the Love of God ; and the ufe and 
abufe of the Pafllons in Religion : With a devout Me 
ditation fuited to each Difcourfe. 

8. Logick: Or the right ufeofReafon in the Inquiry 
afrer Truth. The Third Edition. 

Thefe Eight by the Reverend Ifaac Watts, D. D. 

1. The Validity .of the DifTenting Miniftry : Or, the 
Ordaining Power of Presbyters, evinced from the New 
Teftament and Church Hiftory. In Four Parts 8. 

2. The Wonders of Redeeming Love $ being an El- 
fay on the Reafons why God redeemed Fallen Man, 
and not Fallen Angels $ with Practical Improvements. 

3. Plain Dealing, or Separation without Schifm, and 
Schifm without Separation j exemplify d in the Cafe of 
Proteftant-Diflenters, and Church-Men. 

Thefe Three by the Reverend Charles Owen, t). D. 

1. Chrift, every Chriftian s Pattern. 

2. The Example of St. Paul, reprefented to Minifters 
and to private Chriftians 5 to which is added an Account 
of fimotby. 

Thefe Two by the Reverend Mr. Rofart Murrey.