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[CHEAP REPOSITORY. Number 21.]

THE History of the TWO SHOEMAKERS. PART IV.

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PHILADELPHIA PRINTED BY B. & J. JOHNSON NO. 147 HIGH-STREET. 1800. [Price 4 Cents.]

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THE TWO SHOEMAKERS.

"YOUR condition, as to this world is indeed very low," replied the good Divine. "But what are mines, dungeons or gallies, to that eternal hopeless pri­son to which your unrepented sin must soon have consigned you. Even in this gloomy prison, on this bed of straw, worn down by pain, poverty, and want, forsaken by your worldly friends, an ob­ject of scorn to those with whom you used to carouse and riot; yet here, I say, brought thus low, if you have at last found out your own vileness; and your utterly undone state by sin, you may still be more an object of [...] in the sight of GOD, than when you thought [...] prosperous and happy; when the world smiled upon you, and you passed your days and nights in envied gaiety and [Page 4]unchristian riot. If you will but improve the present awful visitation; if you do but heartily renounce and abhor your present evil courses; if you even now turn to the Lord your Saviour with live­ly faith, deep repentance, and unfeign­ed obedience, I shall have more hope of you than of many who are going on quite happy, because quite insensible. The heavy laden sinner, who has discovered the iniquity of his own heart, and his utter inability to help himself, may be still restored to GOD's savour, and be­come happy, though in a dungeon. And be assured, that he who from deep and humble contrition dares not so much as lift up his eyes to heaven, when with a hearty faith he sighs out, Lord be merci­ful to me a sinner, shall in no wise be cast out. These are the words of him who cannot lie."

It is impossible to describe the self-abasement, the grief, the joy, the shame, the hope, and the fear, which filled the mind of this poor man. A dawn of com­fort at length shone on his benighted [Page 5]mind. His humility and fear of falling back into his former sins, if he should ever recover, Mr. Thomas thought were good symptoms of a sound repent­ance. He improved and cherished eve­ry good disposition he saw arising in his heart, and particularly warned him against self-deceit, self-confidence and hypocrisy.

One day, when Mr. Thomas and Mr. Stock came to see him, they found him more than commonly affected. His face was more ghastly pale than usual, and his eyes were red with crying. "Oh, Sir," said he, "what a sight have I just seen! Jolly George, as we used to call him, the ring-leader of all our mirth, who was at the bottom of all the fun, and tricks, and wickedness that are carried on within these walls, Jolly George is just dead of the jail distemper! He taken, and I left! I would be carri­ed into his room to speak to him, to beg him to take warning by me, and that I might take warning by him. But what did I see! what did I hear! not one sign of [Page 6]repentance; not one dawn of hope, Agony of body, blasphemies on his tongue, despair in his soul, while I am spared and comforted with hopes of mer­cy and acceptance. Oh, if all my old friends at the Greyhound could but then have seen Jolly George! A hundred Sermons about Death, Sir, don't speak so home, and cut so deep, as the sight of one dying sinner."

Brown grew gradually better in his health, that is, the fever mended, but the distemper settled in his limbs, so that he seemed likely to be a poor weakly cripple the rest of his life. But as he spent much of his time in prayer, and in reading such parts of the Bible as Mr. Thomas directed, he improved eve­ry day in knowledge and piety, and of course grew more resigned to pain and infirmity.

Some months after this, his hard­hearted father, who had never been pre­vailed upon to see him, or offer him the least relief, was taken off suddenly by a [Page 7]fit of apoplexy; and, after all his threat­enings, he died without a will. He was one of those silly, superstitious men, who fancy they shall die the sooner for ha­ving made one; and who love the world and the things that are in the world so dearly, that they dread to set about any business which may put them in mind that they are not always to live in it. As, by this neglect, his father had not fulfilled his threat of cutting him off with a shilling, Jack, of course, went shares with his brother in what their fa­ther left. What fell to him proved to be just enough to discharge him from prison, and to pay all his debts, but he had nothing left. His joy at being thus inabled to make restitution was so great, that he thought little of his own wants. He did not desire to conceal the most trifling debt, nor to keep a shilling for himself.

Mr. Stock undertook to [...] all his affairs. There did not remain money enough, after every creditor was satisfi­ed, even to pay for his removal to his [Page 8]own town. Mr. Stock kindly sent his cart for him with a bed in it, made as comfortable as possible, for he was too weak and lame to be removed any other way, and Mr. Stock gave the driver a particular charge to be tender and care­ful of him, and not to drive hard nor to leave the cart a moment.

Mr. Stock would fain have taken him into his own house, at least for a time, so convinced was he of his sincere refor­mation both of heart and life; But Brown could not be prevailed on to be further burdensome to this generous friend. He insisted on being carried to the parish work-house, which he said was a far better place than he deserved. In this house Mr. Stock furnished a small room for him, and sent him every day a morsel of meat from his own din­ner. Tommy Williams begged that he might always be allowed to carry it, as some atonement for his having for a mo­ment so far forgotten his duty, as rather to rejoice than sympathize in Brown's misfortunes. He never thought of this [Page 9]fault without sorrow, and often thanked his master for the wholesome lesson he then gave him, and he was the better for it all his life.

Mrs. Stock often carried poor Brown a bit of tea or a bason of good broth her­self. He was quite a cripple, and never able to walk out as long as he lived. Mr. Stock, Will Simpson, and Tommy Williams laid their heads together, and contrived a sort of barrow on which he was often carried to church by some of his poor neighbours, of which Tommy was always one; and he requited their kindness, by reading a good book to them whenever they would call in, or teaching their children to sing Psalms or say the catechism.

It was no small joy to him thus to be enabled to go to church. Whenever he was carried by the Greyhound he was much moved, and used to put up a pray­er full of repentance for the pass, and praise for the present.

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A Dialogue between James Stock and Will Simpson, as they sat at their Work.

James Stock, and his journeyman Will Simpson, as I informed my read­ers in the second part of the Two Shoemaker's, had resolved to work toge­ther one hour every evening in order to pay for Tommy Williams's schooling. This circumstance brought them to be a good deal together when the rest of the men where gone home. Now it hap­pened that Mr. Stock had a mighty way of endeavouring to turn all common events to some use; and he thought it right on the present occasion to make the only return in his power to Will Simpson for his great kindness. For, said he, if Will gives up so much of his time to help me to provide for this poor boy, it is the least I can do to try to turn part of that time to the purpose of promoting Will's spiritual good. Now as the b [...]t of Stock's own mind was religious, it was easy to him to lead their talk to something profitable. He al­ways [Page 11]took especial care however, that the subject should be introduced proper­ly, cheerfully, and without constraint. As he well knew that great good may be sometimes done by a prudent attention in seizing proper opportunities, so he knew that the cause of piety had been sometimes hurt by forcing serious sub­jects where there was clearly no disposition to receive them. I say he had found out that two things were ne­cessary to the promoting religion among his friends; a warm zeal to be always on the watch for occasions, and a cool judgment to distinguish which was the right time and place to make use of them. To know how to do good is a great mat­ter, but to know when to do it is no small one.

Simpson was an honest good-natured fellow; he was now become sober, and rather religiously disposed. But he was ignorant, he did not know much of the grounds of religion, or of the corrup­tion of his own nature; he was regular at church, but was first drawn thither rather [Page 12]by his skill in psalm-singing than by any great devotion. He had left off going to the Greyhound, and often read the Bible or some other good book on the Sunday evening. This he thought was quite enough; he thought the Bible was the prettiest history book in the world, and that religion was a very good thing for Sundays. But he did not much un­derstand what business people had with it on working days. He had left off drinking because it had brought Wil­liams to the grave, and his wife to dirt and rags; but not because he him­self had seen the evil of sin. He now considered swearing and sabbath breaking as scandalous and indecent, but he had not found out that both were to be left off because they are highly offensive to God, and grieve his Holy Spirit. As Simpson was less self-con­ceited than most ignorant people are, Stock had always a good hope that when he should come to be better ac­quainted with the word of God, and with the evil of his own heart, he would become one day a good Christian. The [Page 13]great hindrance to this was, that he fancied himself so already.

One evening Simpson had been cal­ling to Stock's mind how disorderly the house and shop, where they were now sitting quietly at work, had formerly been, and he went on thus;

Will.

How comfortably we live now, master, to what we used to do in Williams's time! I used then never to be happy but when we were keeping it up all night, but now I am as merry as the day is long. I find I am twice as happy since I am grown good and sober.

Stock.

I am glad you are happy, Will, and I rejoice that you are sober; but I would not have you take too much pride in your own goodne [...] for fear it should become a sin, almost as great as some of those you have left off. Besides I would not have you make quite so sure that you are good.

Will.
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Not good, master! why don't you find me regular and orderly at work?

Stock.

Very much so, and according­ly I have a great respect for you.

Will.

I pay every one his own, seldom miss church, have not been drunk since Williams died, have hand­some clothes for Sundays, and save a trifle every week.

Stock.

Very true and very laudable it is; and to all this you may add that you very generously work an hour, for poor Tommy's education, every even­ing without fee or reward.

Will.

Well, master what can man do more? I fall this is not being good, I don't know what it is.

Stock.

Will these things are very right as far as they go, and you could not well be a Christian without doing them. But I shall make you stare per­haps when I tell you, you may do all [Page 15]these things and many more, and yet be no Christian.

Will.

No Christian! surely, master, I do hope that after all I have done, you will not be so unkind as to say I am no Christian.

Stock.

God forbid that I should say so, Will. I hope better things of you. But come now, what do you think it is to be a Christian?

Will.

What! why to be christened when one is a child, to learn the Cate­chism when one can read, to be confirm­ed when one is a youth, and to go to church when one is a man.

Stock.

These are all very proper things, and quite necessary. They make a part of a Christian [...] ▪ But for all that, a man may be exact in them all, and yet not be a Christian.

Will.

Not be a Christian! ha! ha! ha! you are very comical, master.

Stock.
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No indeed, I am very serious, Will. At this rate it would be a very easy thing to be a Christian, and every man who went through certain forms would be a good man; and one man who observed these forms would be as good as another. Whereas, if we come to examine ourselves by the word of GOD, I am afraid there are but few com­paratively whom our Saviour would allow to be real Christians. What is your notion of a Christian's practice?

Will.

Why, he must not rob nor murder, nor get drunk. He must avoid scandalous things, and do as other de­cent orderly people do.

Stock.

It is easy enough to be what the world calls a Christian, but not to be what the [...] calls so.

Will.

Why master we working men are not expected to be saints, and mar­tyrs, and apostles and ministers.

Stock.
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We are not. And yet, Will, there are not two sorts of christianity; we are called to practice the same re­ligion which they practised, and some­thing of the same spirit is expected in us which we reverence in them. It was not saints and martyrs only to whom our Saviour said that they must "cruci­fy the world with its affections and lusts." We are called to "be holy" in our measure and degree, "as he who hath called us is holy." It was not only saints and martyrs who were told that they must be "like-minded with Christ"— That "they must do all to the glory of God"—That they must renounce the spirit of the world, and deny them­selves." It was not to apostles only that Christ said, "they must have their con­versation in Heaven. It was not to a few holy men set apart for the altar, that he said, "they must set their affec­tions on things above"—That they "must not be conformed to the world." No, it was to Fishermen, to Publicans, to Farmers, to Day-labourers, to poor Tradesmen, that he spoke when he told [Page 18]them, they must "love not the world, nor the things of the world"—"That they must renounce the hidden things of dishonesty, grow in grace, lay up for themselves treasures in Heaven."

Will.

All this might be very proper for them to be taught, because they had not been bred up Christians, but Hea­thens or Jews: and Christ wanted to make them his followers, that is, Chris­tians. But thank God we do not want to be taught all this, for we are Christians, born in a Christian country, of Christian parents.

Stock.

I suppose then you fancy that Christianity comes to people in a Chris­tian country by nature?

Will.

I think it comes by a good education or a good example. When a fellow who has got any sense sees a man cut off in his prime by drinking, I think he will begin to leave it off. When he sees another man respected, like you, master, for honesty and sobriety, [Page 19]and going to church, why he will grow honest and sober and go to church; that is he will see it is his advantage to be a Christian.

Stock.

Will, what you say is the truth, but 'tis not the whole truth. You are right as far as you go, but you do not go far enough. The worldly advantages of piety, are, as you suppose, in general great. Credit, prosperity, and health, almost naturally attend on a religious life, both because a religious life suppo­ses a sober and industrious life; and be­cause a man who lives in a course of duty puts himself in the way of God's blessing. But a [...] Christian has a still higher aim in [...] and [...] follow Re­ligion even under [...], when it may hurt his credit [...] his pros­perity, if it should ever happen to be the will of God that he should be brought into such a trying state.

Will.

Well, master, to speak the truth, if I go to Church on Sundays, [Page 20]and follow my work in the week, I must say I think that is being good.

Stock.

I agree with you, that he who does both gives the best outward signs that he is good as you call it. But our going to Church, and even reading the Bible, are no proofs that we are as good as we need be, but rather that we do both these in order to make us better than we are. We do both on Sun­days, as means, by God's blessing, to make us better all the week. We are to bring the fruits of that Chapter or of that Sermon into our daily life, and try to get our inmost heart and secret thoughts, as well as our daily conduct, amended by them.

Will.

Why, sure master, you won't be so unreasonable as to want a body to be religious always? I can't do that neither. I'm not such a hypocrite as to pretend to it.

Stock.

Yes, you can be so in every action of your life!

Will.
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What, master, always to be thinking about Religion?

Stock.

No, far from it Will; much less to be always talking about it. But you must always be acting under it's power and spirit.

Will.

But surely 'tis pretty well if I do this when I go to Church; or while I am saying my prayers. Even you, master, as strict as you are, would not have me always on my knees, nor always at Church, I suppose; for then how would your work be carried on, and how would our town be supplied with shoes?

Stock.

Very true, Will. Twould be no proof of our religion to let our cus­tomers go barefoot; but 'twould be a proof of our laziness, and we should starve as we ought to do. The business of the world must not only be carried on, but carried on with spirit and activ­ity. We have the same authority for not being slothful in business as we have for being fervent in spirit. Religion [Page 22]has put godliness and laziness as wide asunder as any two things in the world; and what God has separated, let no man pretend to join. Indeed, the spirit of religion can have no fellowship with sloth, indolence, and self-indulgence. But still, a christian does not carry on his common trade quite like another man neither; for something of the spirit which he labours to attain at church, he carries with him into his worldly con­cerns. While there are some who set up for Sunday christians, who have no notion that that they are bound to be week-day christians too.

Will.

Why, master, I do think, if God Almighty is contented with one day in seven, he won't thank you for throwing him the other six into the bar­gain. I thought he gave us them for our own use; and I am sure nobody works harder all the week than you do.

Stock.

God, it is true, sets apart one day in seven for actual rest from labour, and for more immediate devotion to [Page 23]his service. But shew me the text, wherein he says, thou shalt love the Lord thy God on Sundays—Thou shalt keep my commandments on the Sabbath day—To be carnally minded on Sundays is death—Cease to do evil and learn to do well one day in seven—Grow in grace on the Lord's day—Is there any such text?

Will.

No, to be sure there is not; for that would be encouraging sin in all the other days.

Stock.

Yes, just as you do when you make religion a thing for the church and not for the world. There is no one lawful calling in pursuing which we may not serve God acceptably. You and I may serve him while we are stitching this pair of boots. Farmer Furrow, while he is plowing yonder field. Betsy West, over the way, whilst she is nursing her sick mother. Neigh­bour Inckle, in measuring out his tapes and ribbons. I say, all these may serve God just as acceptably in those employ­ments [Page 24]as at church, I had almost said more so.

Will.

Aye, indeed—how can that be? Now you're too much on t'other side.

Stock.

Because a man's trials in trade being often greater, they give him fresh means of glorifying God, and pro­ving the sincerity of religion. A man who mixes in business, is naturally brought into continual temptations and difficulties. These will lead him, if he be a good man, to look more to God, than he perhaps would otherwise do. He sees temptations on the right hand and on the left he knows that there are snares [...], this makes him watchful▪ he feels that the enemy within is too [...] to betray him, this makes him humble himself; while a sense of his own difficulties makes him tender to the failings of others.

Will.

Then you would make one be­lieve, after all, that trade and business [Page 25]must be sinful in itself, since it brings a man into all these snares and scrapes.

Stock.

No, no, Will; trade and busi­ness don't create evil passions—they were in the heart before—Only now and then they seem to lie snug a little—our con­cerns with the world bring them out in­to action a little more, and thus shew both others and ourselves what we real­ly are. But then as the world offers more trials on the one hand, so on the other it holds out more duties. If we are called to battle oftener, we have more opportunities of victory. Every temptation resisted, is an enemy subdu­ed; and "he that ruleth his own spirit, is better than he that [...] a city."

Will.

I don't quite understand you, master.

Stock.

I will try to explain myself. There is no passion more called out by the transactions of trade than covetous­ness. Now, 'tis impossible to withstand such a master sin as that, without carry­ing [Page 26]a good deal of the spirit of religion into one's trade.

Will.

Well, I own I don't yet see how I am to be religious when I'm hard at work, or busy settling an account. I can't do two things at once; 'tis as if I were to pretend to make a shoe and cut out a boot at the same moment.

Stock.

I tell you both must subsist to­gether. Nay the one must be the mo­tive to the other. God commands us to be industrious, and if we love him, the desire of pleasing him should be the main spring of our industry.

Will.

I [...] how I can always be thinking about pleasing God.

Stock.

Suppose, now, a man had a wife and children whom he loved, and wished to serve, would not he be often thinking about them while he was at work? and though he would not be al­ways thinking about them, yet would not the very love he bore them be a con­stant [Page 27]spur to his industry? He would always be pursuing the same course from the same motive, though his words and even his thoughts must often be taken up in the common transactions of life.

Will.

Well, I say first one, then the other; now for labour, now for religion.

Stock.

I will shew that both must go together. I will suppose you were go­ing to buy so many skins of our currier —that is quite a worldly transaction —you cant see what a spirit of religion has to do with buying a few calves' skins. Now, I tell you it has a great deal to do with it. Covetousness, a desire to make a good bargain, may rise up in your heart. Selfishness, a spirit of monopoly, a wish to get all, in order to distress others; these are evil desires, and must be subdued. Some opportunity of un­fair gain offers, in which there may be much sin, and yet little scandal. Here a Christian will stop short, he will recol­lect, "that he who maketh haste to be rich shall hardly be innocent." Perhaps [Page 28]the sin may be on the side of your dealer —he may want to overreach you—this is provoking—you are tempted to vio­lent anger, perhaps to swear,—here is a fresh demand on you for a spirit of pa­tience and moderation, as there was be­fore for a spirit of justice and self-deni­al. If, by God's grace, you get the victory over these temptations, you are the better man for having been called out to them; always provided, that the temptations be not of your own seeking. If you give way, and sink under these temptations, don't go and say that trade and business have made you covetous, passionate, and prophane. No, no; de­pend upon it, you were so before; you would have had all these evil seeds lurk­ing in your heart, if you had been loit­ering about at home and doing nothing, with the additional sin of idleness into the bargain. When you are busy, the devil often tempts you; when you are idle, you tempt the devil. If business and the world call these evil tempers into action, business and the world call that religion into action too which teach­es [Page 29]us to resist them. And in this you see the Week-day fruit of the Sunday's pie­ty. 'Tis trade and business in the week which call us to put our Sunday read­ings, praying, and church-going into practice.

Will.

Well, master, you have a co­mical way, some how, of coming over one. I never should have thought there would have been any religion wanted in buying and selling a few calves' skins. But, I begin to see there is a good deal in what you say.—And, whenever I am doing a common action, I will try to remember that it must be done after a godly sort.

Stock.

I hear the clock strike nine— let us leave off our work. I will only observe further, that one good end of our bringing religion into our business is, to put us in mind not to undertake more business than we can carry on consistent­ly with our religion. I shall never com­mend that man's diligence, though it is often commended by the world, who [Page 30]is not diligent about the salvation of his soul. We are as much forbidden to be overcharged with the cares of life as with it's pleasures. I only wish to prove to you, that a discreet Christian may be wise for both worlds; that he may em­ploy his hands without entangling his soul, and labour for the meat that perish­eth without neglecting that which endu­reth unto eternal life; that he may be prudent for time, while he is wise for eternity.

Z.
THE HYMN.
O That the Lord wou'd guide my ways,
To keep his statutes still!
O that my God wou'd give me grace
To know and do his will!
Lord, send thy spirit down to write
Thy love upon my heart,
Nor let my tongue indulge deceit,
Nor act a liar's part.
From vanity, Lord, turn mine eyes,
Let no corrupt design,
[Page 31]No covetous desires arise
Within this soul of mine.
Order my footsteps by thy word,
And make my heart sincere;
Let sin have no dominion, Lord,
But keep my conscience clear.
My soul hath gone too far astray,
My feet too often slip;
I wou'd not, Lord, forget thy way,
Bring back thy wand'ring sheep.
Make me to walk in thy commands,
'Tis a delightful road;
Nor let my head, or heart, or hands,
Offend against my God.
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THE PRODIGAL SON.

This HYMN was frequently sung by JACK BROWN in the WORKHOUSE.

I.
BEHOLD the wretch whose lust and wine
Have wasted his estate;
He begs a share among the swine,
To taste the husks they eat.
II.
I die with hunger here he cries,
I starve in foreign lands;
My father's house has large supplies,
And bounteous are his hands.
III.
I'll go, and with a mournful tongue,
Fall down before his face,
Father I've done thy justice wrong,
Nor can deserve thy grace,
IV.
He said and hastened to his home,
To seek his father's love;
The father saw the rebel come,
And all his bowels move.
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V.
He ran, and fell upon his neck,
Embrac'd and kiss'd his son;
The rebel's heart with sorrow breaks
For sins which he had done.
VI.
"Take off his cloaths of shame and sin,
"(The father gives command,)
"Dress him in garments white and clean,
"With rings adorn his hand.
VII.
"A day of feasting I ordain,
"Let mirth and joy abound,
"My son was dead and lives again,
"Was lost and now is found.
THE END. ☞ Next week will be publish'd The Harvest Home.
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EXTRACT From a late AUTHOR, on Detraction.

SUSURRUS is a pious, temperate, good man remarkable for abundance of excellent qualities; no one more con­stant at the service of the church, or whose heart is more affected with it; his charity is so great, that he almost starves himself, to be able to give great­er alms to the poor.

Yet Susurrus had a prodigious failing along with these great virtues.

He had a mighty inclination to hear and discover all the defects and infirmi­ties of all about him. You was wel­come to tell him any thing of any body, provided that you did not do it in the style of an enemy. He never disliked an evil-speaker, but when his language was rough and passionate. If you would but whisper any thing gently, tho' it was ever so bad in itself, Susurrus was rea­dy to receive it.

When he visits, you generally hear him relating how sorry he is for the de­sects and failings of such a neighbour. [Page 35]He is always letting you know how ten­der he is of the reputation of his neigh­bour; how loth to say that which he is forced to say; and how gladly he would conceal it, if it could be concealed.

Susurrus had such a tender, compassio­nate manner of relating things the most prejudicial to his neighbour, that he ev­en seemed, both to himself and others to be exercising a christian charity, at the same time that he was indulging a whis­pering, evil-speaking temper.

Susurrus once whispered to a particu­lar friend in great secrecy, something too bad to be spoke of publickly. He ended with saying, how glad he was that it had not yet took wind, and that he had some hopes it might not be true, tho' the sus­picions were very strong. His friend made him this reply:

You say, Susurrus, that you are glad it has not yet taken wind; and that you have some hopes it may not prove true. Go home therefore to your closet, and pray to God for this man, in such a manner, and with such earnestness, as you would pray for yourself on the like occasion.

[Page 36]Beseech God to interpose in his fav­our, to save him from false accusers, and bring all those to shame, who by un­charitable whispers, and secret stories wound him, like those that stab in the dark. And when you have made this prayer, then you may, if you please, go tell the same secret to some other friend, that you have told to me.

Susurrus was exceedingly affected with this rebuke, and felt the force of it upon his conscience, in as lively a man­ner, as if he had seen the books open'd at the day of judgment.

All other arguments might have been resisted; but it was impossible for Susur­rus either to reject, or to follow this ad­vice, without being equally self-con­demned in the highest degree.

From that time to this, he has con­stantly used himself to this method of intercession; and his heart is so entire­ly changed by it, that he can now no more privately whisper any thing to the prejudice of another, than he can open­ly pray to God to do people hurt.

FINIS.

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