LETTER I. DEAR FRIEND,

YOU have often requeſted me to devote what few leiſure moments I could ſpare, in minuting down ſome of the principal occurrences of my life, with a view, ſooner or later, of exhibiting the account to the public eye; who, as you were pleaſed to ſay, could not but be ſomewhat curious to learn ſome well authenticated particulars of a man, well known to have riſen from an obſcure origin to a degree of notice, and to a participation of the favor of the Public, in a particular line of buſineſs, I may without vanity ſay, hitherto unprecedented. This will appear more conſpicuous if you conſider, that I was not only poor, but laboured under every other diſadvantage.

Ever willing to pay a becoming deference to the judgment of a perſon of your acknowledged merits, and whom I have the felicity of numbering among my firmeſt friends. yet being leſs anxious to appear as an adventurer among the numerous tribe of authors, than to continue a conſiderable vender of the produce of their labours, I have continually delayed complying with your kind wiſhes.

I ſhould probably have ſtill delayed compil • ng my narrative, if the editors of a certain periodical publication, who monthly labour to be witty, had not deemed me of ſufficient conſequence to introduce into their work, what they are pleaſed to call a Portrait of me! and though it was by them intended as a caricatura, yet I am perſuaded it will appear to thoſe who beſt know me, as a daubing more characteriſtic of the heavy bruſh of a manufacturer of ſigns, than the delicate pencil of a true portrait-painter; and on that account I ſhould moſt certainly have conſidered it as unworthy notice, had they not daubed me with falſe features. This at once determined my w •••• ing reſolution, and I am now ſully reſolved to minute down-ſuch particulars of my paſinge through liſe, as, though not • d •••• d • i • h an elegance of ſtile, will, I aſſure you, poſſeſs what to you, I flatter myſelf, will be a greater recommendation, viz. a ſtrict adherence to truth. And though no doubt you will meet with ſome occurrences in which you may find cauſe for cenſure, yet I hope others will preſent themſelves, which your candour will induce you to commend. Should you be able to afford the whole a patient peruſal and think the account meriting the public eye, I ſhall cheerfully ſubmit to your deciſion, convinced that you will not, "With mean complacence e'er betray your truſt, "Nor be ſo civil as to prove unjuſt."

John Dunton, a brother Bibliopole, long ſince exhibited a whole volume of dulneſs, which he called his "Life and errors."— The latter term I believe might be a very proper appendage to the title page of the innumerable lives which have been, and which will be publiſhed: For what man will dare to ſay of himſelf, his life has not been loaded with errors? That mine has been ſuch, I readily acknowledge; and ſhould this narrative be publiſhed, many perhaps may deem that act another (poſſibly the greateſt) error. To thoſe I ſhall only obſerve, that "to err is human, to forgive divine."

And of you, for the preſent, after informing you, my next ſhall contain a faithful account of particulars relative to the early part of my life, with aſſuring you that I am, &c.

LETTER II. "Why ſhould my birth keep down my mounting Spirit? "Are not all creatures ſubject unto time; "To time, who doth abuſe the world, "And ſills it full of hotch-podge baſtardy? "There's legions now of beggars on the Earth, "That their original did ſpring from Kings; "And many monarchs now, whoſe fathers were "The riff-raff of their age; for time and fortune "Wears out a noble train to beggary; "And from the dunghill millions do advance "To ſtate; and mark, in this admiring world "This is the courſe, which in the name of ſate "Is ſeen as often as it whirls about; "The river Thames that by our door doth run, "His firſt beginning is but ſmall and ſhallow, "Yet keeping on his courſe grows to a ſea." SHAKESPEAR's Cromwell. DEAR FRIEND,

IN my laſt I hinted that I ſhould conſine myſelf to a plain narrative of facts, unembelliſhed with the meretricious aid of lofty figures, or repreſentations of things which never had exiſtence, but in the brain of the author. I ſhall therefore not trouble you with a hiſtory of predictions which foretold the future greatneſs of your humble ſervant, nor with a minute account of the aſpects of the planets at the very auſpicious and important criſis when firſt I inhaled the air of this buſtling orb; for, extraordinary as it may appear, it has never yet occurred to me, that any of the adepts in the aſtrological ſcience have made a calculation of my nativity; 'tis probable this high honour is by the planets deſtined to adorn the ſublime lucubrations of the very ingenious Mr. SIRLEY, in the next edition of his ſtup—endous work! And here for the honour of the craſt let me remark, that this moſt ſubline genius, has with myſelf to boaſt (and who would not boaſt of their genealogy in having a prince for their anceſtor?) in being a Son of the renowned PRINCE CRISPIN.

A volume has been written with the title of "The Honour of the Taylors; or the Hiſtory of Sir JOHN HAWKWOOD." But were any learned writer to undertake— The honour of the Shoemakers or the hiſtory of—, how inſignificant a figure would the poor Taylors make, when compared with the honourable craft!

"Coblers from Criſpin boaſt their Public Spirit, "And all are upright downright men of merit."

Should I live to ſee as many editions of my Memoirs publiſhed, as there have been of the Pilgrim's Progreſs, I may be induced to preſent the world with a Folio on that important ſubject.

But to begin— Were I inclined to pride myſelf in genealogical deſcent, I might here boaſt that the family were originally ſettled at White Lackington, in Somerſetſhire, which obtained its name from one of my famous anceſtors, and give you a long detail of their grandeur, &c. but having as little leiſure as inclination to boaſt of what if true would add nothing to my merits, I ſhall for the prefent only ſay. that I was born at Wellington in Somerſetſhire, on the 31ſt of Auguſt, (old ſtyle) 1746. My father George I ackington was a Journcyman Shoemaker, who had incurred the diſpleaſure of my grandfather for marrying my mother, whoſe maiden name was Joan Trott. She was the d • ughter of a poor weaver in Wellington; a good honeſt man, whoſe end was remarkable, though not very fortunate; in the road between Taunton and Wellington he was found drowned in a ditch where the water ſcarcely covered his face: He was, 'tis conjectured,

"—Drunk when he died."

This happened ſome years before the marriage of my Father and Mother.

My grandfather George Lackington had been a Gentleman Farmer at Langford, a village two miles from Wellington, and acquired a pretty confiderable proper • y.— But my father's mother dying when my father was but about thirteen years of age, my grandfather who had two daughters, bound my father apprentice to a Mr. Hordly, a maſter ſhoemaker in Wellington, with an intention of ſetting him up in that buſineſs at the expiration of his time. But my father worked a year or two as a journeyman and, then diſpleaſed his father by marrying a woman without a ſhilling, of a mean family and who ſupported herſelf by ſpinning of wool into yarn, ſo that my mother was delivered of your friend and humble ſervant, her firſt-born, and hope of the family, in my grandmother Trott's poor cottage; and that good old woman carried me privately to church unknewn to my father who was (nominally) a Quaker, that being the religion of his anceſtors.

About the year 1750 my father having three or four children, and my mother proving an excellent wife, my grandfather's reſentment had nearly ſubſided, ſo that he ſupplied him with money to open a ſhop for himſelf. But that which was intended to be of very great ſervice to him and his family, eventually proved extremely unfortunate to himſelf and them: for as ſoon as he found he was more at eaſe in his circurnſtances, he contracted a fatal habit of drinking, and of courſe his buſineſs was neglected; ſo that after ſeveral fruitleſs attempts of my grandfather to keep him in trade, he was, partly by a very large family but more by his habitual drunkenneſs, reduced to his old ſtate of a journeyman ſhoemaker: Yet ſo infatuated was he with the love of liquor, that the endearing ties of huſband and father could not reſtrain him; by which baneful habit himſelf and family were involved in the extremeſt poverty.

"To mortal men great • space • be; "But of all packs, no pack • space • " 〈◊〉

So that neither myſelf, my Brothers or Siſters are indebted to a Father ſearcely for any thing that can endear his memory, or cauſe us to reflect on him with pleaſure.

"Children, the blind effects of love and chance "Bear from their birth the impreſſion of a Slave. DRYDEN.

My father and mother might have ſaid with Middleton, "How adverſe runs the deſtiny of ſome creatures! "Some only can get riches and no children, "We only can get children and no riches; "Then 〈◊〉 the prudent part to check our will, "And, till our ſtate riſe, make our blood ſtand ſtill.

But to our mother we arei ndebted for every thing. "She was a woman take her for all in all, I ſhall not look upon her like again." Never did I know or hear of a woman who worked and lived ſo hard as ſhe did to ſupport eleven children; and were I to relate the particulars it would not gain credit. I ſhall only obſerve, that for many years together, ſhe worked generally nineteen or twenty hours out of every twenty-four; even when very near her time, ſometimes at one hour ſhe was ſeen walking backwards and forwards by her Spinning-wh • el, and her midwife ſent for the next.

Out of love to her family ſhe totally abſtained from every kind of Liquor, water excepted, her food was chiefly broth, (little better than water and oatmeal) turnips. potatoes, cabbage, carrots, &c. her children fared ſomething better, but not much, as you may well ſuppoſe. When I reflect on the aſtoniſhing hardſhips and ſufferings of ſo worthy a woman, and her helpleſs infants, I find myſelf ready to curſo the huſband and father that could thus involve them in ſuch a deplorable ſeene of miſery and diſtreſs. It is dreadſul to add, that his habitual drunkenneſs ſhortened his days nearly one half, and that about twenty years fince he died. unregretted by his own children; nay more while nature ſhed tears over his grave, reaſon was thankſul that the cauſe of their poverty and miſery was taken our of their way. Read this, ye inhuman parents, and ſhudder! Was a law made to baniſh all ſuch fathers, would it not be a juſt, nay even a mild law?

Here, ſir, permit me to drop ſo gloomy a ſubject, and again ſubſeribe myſelf, &c.

LETTER III. "Some venial trailties you may well forgive" FRANCIS's Horace. DEAR FRIEND,

AS I was the eldeſt, and my father for the firſt few years a careful hard-working man, I fared ſomething better than my brothers and ſiſters. I was put for two or three years to a day-ſchool kept by an old woman: and well remember how proud I uſed to be to ſee ſeveral ancient dames lift up their hands and eyes with aſtoniſhment, while I repeated by memory ſeveral chapters out of the New-Teſtament, concluding me from this ſpecimen to be a prodigy of Science. But my career of learning was ſoon at an end, when my mother became ſo poor that ſhe could not afford the mighty ſum of two-pence per week for my ſchooling. Beſides I was obliged to ſupply the place of a nurſe to ſeveral of my brothers and ſiſters. The conſequence of which was, that what little I had learned was preſently forgot; inſtead of learning to read, &c. it very early became my chief delight to excel in all kinds of boyiſh miſchiefs; and I ſoon arrived to be the captain and leader of all the boys in the neighbourhood.

I was about ten years of age, when a man began to cry apple-pies about the ſtreets, I took great notice of his methods of ſelling his pies, and thought I could do it much better than him. I communicated to a neighbouring baker my thoughts on the ſubject in ſuch a manner as gave him a very good opinion of my abilities for a pie merchant, and he prevailed on my father to let me live with him. My manner of crying pies, and my activity in ſelling them, ſoon made me the favorite of all ſac •• as purchaſed halſpenny apple-pies, and halſpenny plumb-puddings, ſo that in a few weeks the old pie-merchant ſhut up his ſhop. I lived with this baker about twelve or fifteen months, in which time I fold ſuch large quantities of pies, puddings cakes, &c. that be often declared to his friends, in my hearing that I had been the means of extricating him from the embarraſſing circumſtances in which he was known to be involved prior to my entering his ſervice.

During the time I continued with this baker, many complaints were repeatedly made againſt me for the childiſh follies I had been guilty of, ſuch as throwing ſnow-balls, frightening people by ſlinging ſerpents and crackers into their houſes, &c. I alſo happened one day to overturn my maſter's ſon a child about four years old whom I had been driving in a wheel-barrow. Dreading the conſequences I immediately ſlew from my maſter's houſe and not knowing what elſe to do I went home to my ſuber, who you may eaſily concei • e, could not a ••• rd to keep me idle, ſo I was ſoon ſet down by his ſide to learn his own trade; and I continued with him ſeveral years, working when he worked, and while he was keeping Saint Monday, I was with boys of my own age fighting, cudgel-playing, wreſtling, &c. &c.

LETTER IV. "Who gather round, and wonder at the tale "Of horrid apparition, tall and ghaſtly, "That walks at dead of night, or takes his ſtand, "O'er ſome new-open'd grave: and (ſtrange "to tell!) "Evaniſhes at crowing of the cock." BLAIR'S Grave. DEAR FRIEND,

I Muſt not forget an odd adventure that happened when I was about twelve years of age.

I had one day walked with my father to Holywell lake, a village two miles from Wellington, where meeting with ſome good ale, he could not ſind in his heart to part from it until lato at night. When we were returning home by the way of Rock-well-Green, (commonly called Regue-Green from a gang of • obbe • s and houſebreakers who formerly lived there) having juſt paſſed the bridge, we were met by ſeveral men and women, who appeared to be very much frightened, being in great agitation. They informed us that they were returning back to Rogue-Green, in order to ſleep there that night, having been prevented from going home to Wellington by a dreadful Apparition, which they had all ſeen in the hollow way, about a quarter of a mile diſtant; adding, that a perſon having been murdered there formerly, the ghoſt had walked ever ſince; that they had never before paid much attention to the wellknown report; but now they were obliged to crediti, having had ocular demonſtration. My father had drank too large a quantity of ale to be much afraid of any thing, and I (who could not let ſlip ſuch an opportunity of ſhewing my courage) ſeconded matters for the poor terrified people to return with is; and as I offered to lead the van, they were prevailed on to make the attempt once nore; but ſaid, that it was rather preſumptuous, and hoped that no dreadful confequence would enſue, as all the company, they truſted, were honeſt-hearted, and intended no harm to any perſon; they moreover added, that "God certainly was above the Devil." I then advanced, and kept bebefore the company about fifty yards,

"Whiſtling aloud to bear my courage up."

But when we had walked about a quarte of a mile, I ſaw at ſome diſtance before u in the hedge, the dreadful apparition that had ſo terrified our company. Here it is! (ſaid I "Lord have mercy upon us!" replied ſome of me company, making a full ſtop; and woold have gone back, but ſhame prevented them. I ſtill kept my diſtance before, and called out to them to follow me, aſſuring them that I was determined to fee what it was. They then fell one behind another, and advanced in ſingle files. As I proceeded I too was ſeized with a timid apprehenſion, but durſt not own it; ſtill heeping on before, although I perceived my hair to heave my hat from my head, and my teeth to chatter in my mouth. In fact I was greatly agitated at what I ſaw; the object much reſembled the human figure as to ſhape but the ſize was prodigious. However I had promiſed to ſee what it was, and for that purpoſe I obſtinately ventured on about thirty yards from the place, where I firſt had ſight of it. I then perceived that it was only a very ſhort tree, whoſe limbs had been newly cut off, the doing of which had made it much reſemble a giant. I then called to the company, and informed them with a hearty laugh, that they had been frightened at the ſtump of a tree.

This ſtory cauſed excellent diverſion for a long time afterwards in Wellington, and I was mentioned as an hero.

The pleaſure and ſatisfaction I received from the diſcovery, and the honour I acquired for the courage I poſſeſſed in making it, has, I believe, had much influence on me ever after; as I cannot recollect that in any one inſtance I have ever obſerved the leaft fear of apparitions, ſpirits, &c. ſince.

"What education did at firſt receive, "Our ripen'd age confirms us to believe." POMFRET.

While I am on this ſubject, I cannot reſiſt the temptation of relating a truly ridiculous affair that happened about this time at Taunton.

In the workhouſe belonging to the pariſh of St. James, there lived a young woman who was an idiot. This poor creature had a gr ••• averſion to ſleeping in a bed, and at bed-time would often run away to a field in the neighbourhood, called the Priory, where ſhe ſlept in the cowſheds.

In order to break her of this bad cuſtom, two men agreed to try if they could not frighten her out of it. And one night, when they knew that ſhe was 〈…〉 took a white ſheet with them, and 〈◊〉 to the place, one of the men concealed himſelf to ſee the event while the other wrapped himſelf up in the ſheet, and walked backwards and forwards cloſe before the cowſhed in which ſhe lay. It was ſome time before Molly paid any attention to the apparition; but at laſt up ſhe got. "Aha! (ſaid ſhe) a white devil!" and by her manner of expreſſing herſelf ſhe thought it was very ſtrange to ſee a white devil. And ſoon after ſhe exclaimed, "A black devil, too! a black devil, too!" With that the man who had the ſheet on, looked over his ſhoulder, and ſaw (or imagined he ſaw) a perſon all over black behind him; the ſight of which made him take to his heels. Molly then clapped her hands as faſt as ſhe could, crying out at the ſame time, "Run, black devil, and catch white devil! Run, black devil, and catch white devil!" and was highly diverted. But this proved a ſerious adventure to the white devil, as he expired within a few minutes after he had reached his own houſe; and from that time poor Molly was left alone to ſleep in peace.

About ten years after the above affair, at Wivelſcombe, nine miles from Taunton, a gentleman farmer's houſe was alarmed every night between twelve and one o'clock. The chamber doors were thrown open, the bedclothes pulled off the beds, and the kitchen furniture thrown with violence about the kitchen, to the great terror of the family, inſomuch that the ſervants gave their maſter and miſtreſs warning to leave their places, and ſome of them actually quitted their ſervice. This dreadful affair had laſted about ſix weeks, when a young gentleman who was there on a viſit, being in bed one night, at the uſual hour he heard his chamber door thrown open, and a very odd noiſe about his room. He was at firſt frightened; but the noiſe continuing a long time, he became calm, and laid ſtill, revolving in his mind what he had beſt do. When on a ſudden he heard the ſpirit creep under his bed, which was immediately lifted up, &c. This convinced him that there was ſome ſubſtance in the ſpirit; on which he leaped cut of bed, ſ • cared the door, and with his •• ken ſtaff belaboured the ghoſt under the bed as hard as he could, until he heard a female voice imploring mercy. On that he opened his chamber door, and called aloud for a light. The family all got up as faſt as poſſible, and came to his room. He then informed them that he had got the ſpirit under the bed; on hearing which, moſt of them were terribly frightened, and would have run off faſter than they came, but he aſſured them, they had nothing to fear; then out he dragged the half-murdered ſpirit from its ſcene of action. But how great was their ſurpriſe and ſhame, when they diſcovered that this tormenting devil was no other than one of their ſervant girls about ſixteen years of age, who had been confined to her bed ſeveral months by illneſs.

This ghoſt was no ſooner laid, than two others alarmed the neighbourhood; one of which for a long time ſhook a houſe every night, and terribly diſtreſſed the family; at length they all reſolved one night to go over the whole houſe in a body, and ſee what it was that ſo agitated the building. They examined every room, but in vain, as no cauſe could be diſcovered. So they very ſeriouſly as well as unanimouſly concluded, that it muſt be the devil.

But about a fortnight after this, one of the family being out late in the garden, ſaw a great boy get in at the window of an old houſe next door (part of which was in ruins), and ſoon after the houſe began to ſhake as uſual, on which the family went out of their own habitation, and entered the old houſe where the boy was ſeen to get in; yet for a long time they could not diſcover any perſon, and were juſt turning to come out again, when one of the company obſerved the boy ſuſpended above their heads, ſtriding over the end of a large beam that ran acroſs both houſes.

It was then apparent that the violent agitation of the adjoining houſe was occaſioned by nothing more than his leaping up and down on the unſupported end of this beam.

Another apparition had for a long time ſtolen many geeſe, turkeys, &c. and altho' it had been ſeen by many, yet nobody would venture to go near it, until at length one perſon a little wiſer than the reſt of his neighbours, ſeeing the famous apparition all over white ſtealing his fowls, was determined to be fully ſatisfied what kind of ſpirit it could be that had ſo great a predilection for poultry. He accordingly went round the yard, and as the apparition was coming over the wall, he knocked it down. This terrible ghoſt then proved to be a neighbouring woman, who had put on her ſhroud in order to deter any perſons ſhould they by chance ſee her, from coming near her.—. Thus, though ſhe had for a long time ſucceſsfully practiſed this ingenious way of procuring poultry, the old fox was caught at laſt.

This is ſo prolific a ſubject, that I could fill many pages with relations of dreadful ſpectres, which for a while have reigned with tyrannic ſway over weak minds, and at length when calm Reaſon was ſuffered to aſſume its power, have been diſcovered to be no more objects of terror than thoſe I have here noticed. But doubtleſs many ſuch inſtances muſt have occurred to you.

It has indeed often aſtoniſhed me, that in this enlightened age there ſhould yet remain numbers, not in the country only, but even in the metropolis, who ſuffer themſelves to be made miſerable by vain fears of pre • ernatural occurrences, which generally owe their origin to the knavery of ſome illdiſp •• ed perſon, who has a ſiniſter purpoſe to anſwer thereby, or to the fooliſh deſire of alarming the minds of weak people; a practice ſometimes (though intended as fun) productive of very ſerious conſequences. Now and then, indeed, theſe terrors are owing to accidental and ridiculous cauſes. As an inſtance, I ſhall give you an account of a terrible alarm which ſome years ſince took place in an Hoſpital of this city, as related to me by a gentleman, who at the time reſided in the houſe, for the purpoſe of completing his medical education, and on whoſe veracity I can confidently rely.

For ſeveral nights ſucceſſively a noiſe had been heard in the lower part of the building, like the continual tapping againſt a window, which led the night nurſes wiſely to conclude it muſt certainly be occaſioned by the Spirit of one of the bodies depoſited in the dead-houſe endeavouring to eſcape; the ſound ſeeming to proceed from that partic • lar quarter. The dread of theſe fogacious ladies at laſt became ſuch, as totally to prevent their going from ward to ward to • do their duty, and determined my friend to attempt to lay this perturbed spirit; which however he apprehended would mo • e ••• dily, as well as effectually be perfor ••••• 〈◊〉 the aſtiſtance of a good cudgel, than by ••• orciſins; he therefore, inſtead of con ••••• the Chaplain, gave orders the next 〈◊〉 ſoon as the uſual dreadful ſound was he 〈◊〉 , to give him notice. This you may ſuppoſe they did not neglect doing, though at the ſame time they were ſhocked at his temerity, and apprehenſive for the conſequences.— Impreſſed with an idea of the alarm being occaſioned by ſome ſervant or patient in the houſe, he immediately ſallied forth, with a candle in one hand, and a good tough twig in the other, accompanied by two of the men ſervants of the Hoſpital, accountred in the ſame manner, reſolved that if detected the party ſhould meet with an ample reward. The dead-houſe was paſſed; the noiſe continued; though it evidently proceeded from a window at ſome diſtance in the area— When the cavalcade came near the ſcene of action, the window ſuddenly and violently broke, without any thing being ſeen. This my friend confeſſed, for a moment occaſioned his making a halt; but as nothing viſible ha • eſcaped through the area, it occurred to him ſomething might have made an entrance that ••• y; accordingly he proceeded to the intornit part of the building, and on opening the door, the apparition immediately not only appeared but diſappeared, and that ſo inſtantaneouſly as not to afford time to apply the remedy intended. And what think you, was this dreadful ſpirit? That you may exerciſe your ingenuity at gueſſing, I will here conclude.

LETTER V. "—Were thy education ne'er ſo mean, "Having thy limbs, a thouſand ſair courſes "O •• er themſelves to thy election. BEN JOHSON'S livery Man in his Humour. "Laugh if you are wife." MARTIAL. DEAR FRIEND,

A CAT—An odd beginning of a Letter. by the bye—but here highly important and proper, as tending to relieve you from the anxious thoughts which, (no doubt) muſt have filled your mind on the ſubject of the concluding part of my former letter. I muſt give you one laughable inſtance more, which lately h • ppened. Mr. Higley, the bookſeller famous for ſelling odd volumes or broken ſets of books, lived next door to a public-houſe in Ruſſell-court, Drury-lane; this public-houſe was ſeparated from his habitation only by a ſlight wainſcot partition, through which Mr. Higley cauſed an hole to be cut and a ſlider put over it, ſo that when he wanted 〈◊〉 beer, he always drew back the ſlider and had it handed to him through this convenient aperture.

The night after Mr. Highley's death, which happened a few months ſince, the man who was left to take care of the corpſe, about tw • lve o'clock hearing the landlord and his family going up ſtairs to their beds, on a ſudden drew back the ſlider and hallood through the hola "Bring me a pint of beer." This order the •• ndlord and his family heard, and were ter ••• ly ala •• eed, as they really thought it had proceeded from the ghoſt of their neighbour Higley; the poor maid let fall the warming-pan, which came tumbling down the ſtairs; the landlady being within the reach of her huſband's legs, caught faſt hold of them, which in his fright he miſtook for poor Higley. But the man burs;ting into a hearty laugh, reſtored the ſpirits of our hoſt and his family.

Having now, I dare ſay, had enough of Ghoſte •• , I will proceed with my narration.

〈…〉 time that I lived with the 〈…〉 became ſo celebrated for ſelling 〈◊〉 number of pies, puddings, &c. that 〈…〉 years following, application was 〈◊〉 my father, for him to permit me to 〈◊〉 Almanacks a few market days before and after Chriſtmas. In this employ I took great delight, the country people being highly pleaſed with me, and purchaſing a great number of my Almanacks, which excited envy in the itinerant venders of Moore, Wing, Poor Robin, &c. to ſuch a degree, that my father often expreſſed his anxiety leſt they ſhould ſome way or other do me a miſchief. But I had not the leaſt concern, for poſſeſſing a light pair of heels, I always kept at a proper diſtance.

O, my friend, little did I imagine at that time, that I ſhould ever excite the ſame poor mean ſpirit in many of the bookſellers of London and other places!

I was fourteen years and a half old when I went with my father to work at Taunton, ſeven miles from Wellington. We had been there about a fortnight, when my father informed our maſter, George Bowden, that he would return to Wellington again. Mr. Bowden was then pleaſed to inform my father that he had taken a liking to me, and propoſed taking me apprentice; I ſeconded Mr. Bowden's motion (having a better proſpect in continuing with him 〈◊〉 ••••• ing to Wellington with my 〈◊〉 ) as be offered to take me without any 〈◊〉 , and to find me in every thing. My father accepted his offer, and I was immediately bound apprentice for ſeven years to M •• George and Mrs. Mary Bowden, as honeſt and worthy a couple as ever carried on a trade.

"Religious, punctual, frugal, and ſo forth: "Their word would paſs for more than they were worth." POPE.

They carefully attended to their ſhop ſix days in the week, and on the ſeventh went with their family twice to an anabaptiſt meeting; where little attention was paid to ſpeculative doctrines; but where ſound morality was conſtantly inculcated.

"For modes of faith let graceleſs zealots fight, "His can't be wrong whoſe life is in the right."

But in this, as in many other places of worſhip, it was performed in a dull ſpiritleſs manner; ſo that the excellent morality taught there was not ſo much attended to as it would have been had it been enforced, or re •• foreed by the captivating powers of oratory.

I well remember, that although I conſtantly •• tended this place, it was a year or two before I took the leaſt notice of the fermon, which was read; nor had I any • dea that I had the leaſt concern in what the miniſter was (as 'tis called) preaching about. For, "Who a cold, dull, lifeleſs drawling keeps, "One half his audience laughs, whilſt t'other ſlceps. "Sermons, like plays, ſome pleaſe us at the ear, "But never will a ſerious reading bear; "Some in the cloſet edify enough, "That from the pulpit ſeem'd but ſorry ſluff. "'Tis thus there are who by ill reading ſpoil "Young's pointed ſenſe, or Atterbury's ſtyle! "While others, by the force of eloquence, "Make that ſeem fine, which ſcarce is common "ſenſe. "But ſome will preach without the leaſt pretence "To virtue, learning, art, or eloquence. "Why not? you cry: they plainly ſee, no doubt; "A prieſt may grow right reverend without." Art of Preaching.

LETTER VI. "Youth is the ſtock whence grafted ſuperſtition "Shoots with unbounded vigour." MILLER'S M •••••• DEAR FRIEND,

AT the time that I was bound apprentice, my maſter had two ſons, the eldeſt about ſeventeen years old, the youngeſt fourteen. The eldeſt had juſt been baptized, and introduced as a member of the arianiſtical dipping community where my maſter and his family attended. The boy was a very ſober induſtrious youth, and gave his father and mother much pleaſure. The youngeſt was alſo a good lad. Thus every thing continued well for ſome time aſter I had been added to the family. Both of the boys had very good natural parts, and had learned to read, write, keep accounts, &c. But they had been at ſchools where no variety of books had been introduced, ſo that all they had read was the Bible. My maſter's whole library con • ſted of a ſchool-ſize Bible, Watts's Pſalms and Hymns, Foot's Tract on Baptiſm, Culpepper's Herbal, the Hiſtory of the Gentle Graſt, an old imperiect volume of Receipts in Phyſic, Surgery, &c. and the Ready Reckoner. The ideas of the family were as 〈◊〉 ribed as their library. My maſter 〈◊〉 • ttention to buſineſs and working hard, "minding the main chance." On Sunday 〈◊〉 went to meeting; my maſter on that day 〈◊〉 ſhort grace before dinner, and the boys read a ſew chapters in the Bible took a walk for an hour or two, then read a chapter or two more.

"What right, what trao, what fit we juſtly call, "And this was all our care—for this is all."

We then ſupped, and went early to bed, perfectly ſatisfied with having done our duty; and each having a quiet conſcience, ſoon ſell into the arms of "Nature's ſon nurſe! ſwee ſteep."

I cannot here omit mentioning a very ſi • gular 〈◊〉 of my maſter's: Every moning at all ſe • ſons of the year, and in all weathers, he roſe about three o'clock, took a walk by the river-ſide round Frenchware-ſields, ſtopt at an alehouſe that was early open to drink half a pint of ale, came back before ſix o'clock, then called up his people to work, and went to bed again about ſeven.

Thus was the good man's family jogging eaſily and quietly on, no one doubting but he ſhould go to heaven when he died, and every one hoping it would be a good while firſt.

"A man ſhould be religious, not ſuperſtitious."

But alas! the dreadful criſis was at hand that put an end to the happineſs and peace of this little family. I had been an apprentice about twelve or fifteen months, when my maſter's eldeſt ſon George happened to go and hear a ſermon by one of Mr. Weſley's preachers, who had left the plough-tail to preach the pure and unadulterated Goſpel of Chriſt. Ey this ſermon the fallow ground of poor George's heart was ploughed up, he was now perſuaded that the innocent and good life he had led would only ſink him deeper into hell: in ſhort he found out that he had never been converted, and of courſe was in a ſtate of damnation, without benefit of Clergy. But he did not long continue in this damnable ſtate, but ſoon became one of "—The ſanctified band, "Who all holy myſteries well-underſtand." SIMPKIN.

He perſuaded himſelf that he had paſſed through the New • irth, and was quite ſure that his nume was regiſtered in the Book of Life, and (to the great grief of his parents) he was in r •• lity become a new creature.

"Twas 〈◊〉 grace that made him toſs "and 〈◊〉 , "Which in his entrails did like jollup rumble." OVID'S Epiſt. Burleſqued.

George had no ſooner made things ſure for himſelf, than he began to extend his con ••• n to his father, mother, brother, and me; and very kindly gave us to underſtand, that he was ſure we were in a very deplorable ſtate, "without hope, and without God in the world," being under the curſe of the Law. In the long winter nights, as we ſat at work together, he proved (in his way) that every man had original ſin enough to damn a thouſand ſouls; and a deal was ſaid on that ſubject: Quotations were made from ſome deep author who had aſſerted, that there were "infants in hell but a ſpan long;" and that "hell was paved with infant ſculls," &c. As to Morality, George aſſured us it was of no avail; that as for good works, they were only ſplendid ſins; and that in the beſt good work that any creature could perform, there was ſin enough to ſink the doer to the nethermoſt hell, that it was faith alone that did every thing, without a grain of morality; but that no man could have one particle of this myſterious faith, before he was juftified; and that juſ • iſication was a ſudden operation on the ſoul, by which the moſt execrable wretch that ever lived might inſtantaneouſly be aſſured of all his ſins being pardoned; that his body 〈◊〉 that very moment became the living temple of the Holy Ghoſt; that he had fellowſhip with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; and that Spirit was to be their conſtant and infallible guide.

My maſter very ſeldom heard any of theſe converſations, but my good miſtreſs would ſit down for hours together, with her Bible in her lap, from which ſhe would read ſuch ſcriptures as proved the neceſſity of living a good life, performing good works, &c. ſhe alſo did her beſt to conſute the t ••• ts of Original ſin. Imputed righteouſneſs. doctrine of the Trinity, &c. &c. Unfortunately the good woman had no great talents for controverſy; however Coorge had a very tenacious memory, and ca •• loyed all his thoughts on theſe ſubjects, ſo that John his younger brother, and I alſo (two competent judges no doubt) thought that he had the beſt of the argu •••• on theſe edifying ſubjects, and about five months after George's converſion, John w • nt to hear thoſe only true Ambaſſadors from Heaven, "Who ſtroll and teach from town to town "The good old 〈◊〉 which ſome believe "To be the devil that tempted Eve "With knowledge, and do ſtill invite "The world 〈◊〉 ••• chief with new light." BUTLER.

Theſe devil-dodgers happened to be ſo very ••••• ful (that is very noiſy) that they ſoon ſent John home, crying out, he ſhould be damned! he ſhould be damned forever!

But John ſoon got out of the damnable ſtate, and aſſured us that all his ſins were forgiven, merely by believing that he had paſſed from death into life, and had union and communion with God. He now became as merry as before he had been ſorrowful, and ſung in Mr. Weſley's ſtrain, "Not a doubt ſhall ariſe "To darken the ſkies, "Nor hide for a moment my God from my Eyes."

John ſung to me, and ſaid to me a deal in this wonderful ſtrain, of which I did not comprehend one ſyllable.

"—His words were looſe "As heaps of ſand, and ſcatter'd wide from ſenſe "So high he mounted in his airy throne, "That when the wind had got into his head, "It turn'd his brains to frenzy.

But theſe extraordinary accounts and diſcourſes, together with the controverſiea between the mother and the ſons, made me think they knew many matters of which I was totally ignorant. This created in me a defire for knowledge, that I might know who was right and who was wrong. But to my great mortification, I could not read. I knew moſt of the letters, and a few eaſy words, and I ſet about learning with all my might. My miſtreſs would ſometimes inſtruct me; and having three half pence per week allowed me by my mother, this money I gave to John (my maſter's youngeſt ſon) and for every three half pence he taught me to ſpell one hour; this was done in the dark, as we were not allowed a candle after we were ſent up ſtairs to bed.

I ſoon made a little progreſs in reading; in the mean time I alſo went to the Methodiſt meeting. There, as "enthuſiaſm is the child of melancholy," I caught the infection. The firſt that I heard was one Thomas Bryant. known in Taunton by the name of the damnation preacher; (he had juſt leſt off cobbling ſoles of another kind.) His ſermon frightened me moft terribly. I ſoon after went to hear an old Scotchman, and he aſſured his congregation, that they would be damn'd, and double damn'd, and treble damn'd, and 〈◊〉 • rever, if they died without 〈…〉 faith.

Thi • 〈…〉 • octrine and noiſy rant and enth •••••• 〈◊〉 • orked on my paſſions, and made 〈◊〉 ••••• ve myſelf to be really in the damm •••• •••• ion that they repreſented; and in 〈◊〉 •••• erable ſtate I continued for about a 〈◊〉 •• being all that time unable a work 〈◊〉 up to the proper key.

〈…〉 • ining and repeating enthuſia ••• 〈◊〉 hymns, and ignorantly apply ••• ourticular texts of ſcripture, I got my imagination to the proper pitch, and thus was I born again in an inſtant, became a very great favourite of heaven, had angels to attend all my ſteps, and was as familiar with the Father, Son, and Holy Ghoſt, as any old woman in Mr. Weſley's connection; which by the bye, is ſaying a great deal.

LETTER VII. "No ſleep, no peace, no reſt "Their wand'ring and afflicted minds • oſſeſs'd; "Upon their ſouls and eyes "Hell and eternal horror lies, "Unuſual ſhapes and images, "Dark pictures and reſemblances "Of things to come, and of the worlds below, "O'er their diſtemper'd ſancies go: "Sometimes they curſe, ſometimes they pray unto "The gods above the god • •••• th; "No ſleep, but waking now 〈…〉 death. 〈◊〉 •• RAT. DEAR FRIEND,

IT is per •••• worth remarking, that what the methodiſts wall conviction of ſin, being awakened, &c. is often a moſt dreadful ſtate, and has the v ••• ſame effect on ſuch as have lived a very innocent life as it has upon the moſt notorious offenders; this conviction (as they call it) is brought about by the preachers heaping all the curſes in the Bible on the heads of the moſt virtuous as well as moſt vicious; for, ſay they, he who keepeth the whole law and offendeth but in one point, is as much in a ſtate of damnation, as he that hath broken every one of the commandments, or commitied robbery, murder, &c. ſo that they pour out every awſul denunciation ſound in the Bible, and many not ſound there, againſt all who have not the methodiſtical faith: this they call ſhaking the people over the mouth of hell.

Thus are many who before poſſeſſed "conſiences void of offence towards God and ma •••• d" tricked out of their peace of mind, by the ignorant application of texts of ſcripture. Their fears being once ſo dreadfully la •• ed, they often become inſupportable to themſelves and all around them; many in this ſtate have put a period to their exiſtence, others run mad, &c.

If the above terror of conſcience was only to take place in knaves and raſcals, there would be no reaſon for blaming the methodiſts on that head; "the wretch deſerves the hell he feels."

But the caſe is otherwiſe amongſt the methodiſts, they work on the fears of the moſt virtuous; youth and innocence fall victims daily before their threats of hell and damnation, and the poor ſeeble minded, inſtead of being comforted and encouraged are often by them ſunk into an irrecoverable ſtate of gloomy deſpondence and horrible deſpair.

It is true that many of their hearers are not only methodiſtically convinced, or alarmed, but are alſo hocus pocuſly converted; but with thouſands that is not the caſe, even with thoſe who join their ſociety, where ſo much of divine love, aſſurance, and extaſies are talked of, where enthuſiaſtic, rapturous, intoxicating hymns are ſung, and befides the unhappy mortals in their own community, thouſands there are who have loll their peace of mind by occaſionally hearing their ſermons.

And even thoſe among 〈…〉 have arrived to the higheſt pitch of enthuſiaſm, and who at times talk of their ſoretaſte of heaven, and of their full aſſurance of • in • forgiven, and of talking to the Deity as ſumiliarly as they will to one another; (all which, and much more, I have heard a thouſand times) yet even thoſe very pretended ſavorites of heaven are (if we believe themſelves) miſerable for the greateſt part of their time, having doubts, fears, horrors of mind, &c. continually haunting them wherever they are. Between twenty and thirty years ſince ſome thouſands of them in London took it into their heads that the world would be at an end on ſuch a night, and for ſome days previous to this fatal night, nothing was attended to but faſting and praying, and when it came, they made a watch-night of it, and ſpent it in prayer, &c. expecting every moment to be the laſt; and it is remarkable, that thouſands who were not methodiſts gave credit to this ridiculous prophecy, and were terribly alarmed; but the next morning they were aſhamed to look at one another, and many durſt not appear in their ſhops for ſome time afterwards. But others of them ſaid that God had heard the prayers of the righteous, and ſo ſpared the world a little longer. Some years after that Mr. Weſley alarmed his people all over England with the tail of a comet; great numbers were dreadfully apprehenſive leſt this comet ſhould ſcorch the carth to a cinder; but the ſaints by prayer made the comet keep a proper diſtance.

Charnock, of the laſt century, in his diſcourſe on Providence, has proved (in his way) that the univerſe was created and kept agoing for the ſake of the elect, and that as ſoon as their number is complete, the whole will be deſtroyed.

The fanatics in every age have found their account in making their followers believe the end of the world was at hand. In ſome of the wills and deeds by which eſtates have been given to monaſteries, &c. in France, they have expreſſed their belief of the world's being nearly at an end, as a reaſon for making ſuch liberal donations to the church.— But it is happy for us that in England ſuch wills would be ſet aſide. A caſe of this nature occurred while Lord Northington was at the head of the law department. Reilly the preacher, had whedled, or frightened, an old woman (Mrs. Norton) out of a deed of giſt of fiſty pounds per year, but after the old woman's panic and fear of damnation was over, ſhe had recourſe to Chancery and his Lordſhip annulled the deed of giſt. His Lordſhip's remarks on ſuch kinds of impoſition are very curious, and worth your reading. See Collectanea Juridica, vol. 1. p. 458.

In fact, the very beſt of the methodiſts are like children, elated or depreſſed by mere triſles; and many who joined them while young and ignorant, quit their ſociety as they attain to years of diſcretion, or as their judgment is better informed.

LETTER VIII. "Religion's luſtre is by native innocence "Divinely fair, pure, and ſimple from all arts; "You daub and dreſs her like a common miſtreſs, "The harlot of your ſancies; and by adoing; "Falſe beauties, which ſhe wants not, make the "world "Suſpect her angel ſace is ſoul within." ROWE'S Tamerlane. DEAR FRIEND,

THE enthuſiaſtic notions which I had imbibed, and the deſire I had to be talking about religious myſteries, &c. anſwered one valuable purpoſe; as it cauſed me to embrace every opportunity to learn to read, ſo that I could ſoon read the eaſy parts of the Bible, Mr. Weſley's Hymns, &c. and every leiſure minute was ſo employed.

In the winter I was obliged to attend my work from ſix in the morning until ten at night. In the ſummer half year, I only worked as long as we could ſce without candle; but notwithſtanding the cloſe attention I was obliged to pay to my trade, yet for a long time I read ten chapters in the Bible every day; I alſo read and learned many hymns, and as ſoon as I could procure ſome of Mr. Weſley's Tracts, Sermons, &c. I read them alſo; many of them I peruſed in Cloacina's Temple, (the place where my Lord Cheſterfield adviſed his ſon to read the claſſics, but I did not apply them after reading to the farther uſe that his Lordſhip hints at.)

I had ſuch good eyes, that I often read by the light of the Moon, as my maſter would never permit me to take a candle into my room and that prohibition I looked upon as a kind of perſecution, but I always comforted myſelf with the thoughts of my being a dear child of God; and as ſuch, that it was impoſſible for me to eſcape perſecution from the children of the devil, which epithets I very piouſly applied to my good maſter and miſtreſs. And ſo ignorantly and imprudently zealous (being a r • al methodiſt) was I for the good of their precious ſouls, as ſometimes to give them broad hints of it, and of the dangerous ſtate they were in. Their pious good old miniſter, the Reverend Mr. Harriſon, I called "a blind leader of the blind;" and I more than once aſſured my miſtreſs, that both he and his whole ſtock were in a ſtate of damnation being "ſtrangers to the hope of Iſrael, and without God in the world." My good miſtreſs wifely thought that a good ſtick was the beſt way of arguing with ſuch an ignorant infatuated boy as I was, and had often recourſe to it; but I took care to give her a deal of trouble; for whenever I was ordered in my turn to read in the Bible, I always ſelected ſuch chapters as I thought militated againſt Arians, Socinians, &c. and ſuch verſes as I deemed ſavorable to the doctrine of Orgined Sin, Juſtification by Faith, imputed Righteouſneſs, the doctrine of the Trinity, &c. On ſuch parts I always placed a particular emphaſis, which puzzled and teazed the old lady a good deal.

Among other places I thought (having ſo been taught by the methodiſts) that the ſixteenth chapter of Ezekiel very much favored the doctrines of original ſin, imputed Righteouſneſs, &c. that chapter I often ſelected and read to her, and ſhe as often read the eighteenth chapter of the ſame prophecy, for the ſake of the parable of the Father's eating ſour grapes.

Whenever I read in St. Paul's Epiſtles on Juſtification by faith alone, my good miſtreſs would read in the Epiſtle of St. James, ſuch paſſages as ſay that a man is not juſtified by faith alone, but by faith and works, which often embarraſſed me not a Jittle. However I comforted myſelf with the conceit of having more texts of Scripture on my ſide of the queſtion than ſhe had on her ſide. As to St. James, I was almoſt ready to conclude, that he was not quite orthodox, and ſo at laſt I did not much mind what he ſaid.

"—Falſe opinions rooted in the mind, "Hoodwink the ſoul and keep our reaſon blind. "In controverted points can reaſon ſway, "When paſſion or conceit hurries us away?"

Hitherto I had not frequented the methodiſt meetings by the conſent or knowledge of my maſter and miſtreſs; nor had my zeal been ſo great as to make me openly violate their commands. But as my zeal increaſed much faſter than my knowledge I ſoon diſregarded their orders, and without heſitation ran away to hear a methodiſtical ſermon as often as I could find opportunity. One Sunday morning at eight o'clock my miſtreſs ſeeing • her ſons ſet off, and knowing that they were gone to a methodiſt meeting, determined to prevent me from doing the ſame by locking the door, which ſhe accordingly did; on which in a ſuperſtitious mood. I opened the Bible for direction what to do (ignorant methodiſts often practiſe the ſame ſuperſtitious method) and the firſt words I read were theſe, "He has given his angels charge concerning thee, leſt at any time tho • ſhouldſt daſh thy foot againſt a ſtone." This was enough for me; ſo without a moments heſitation, I ran up two pair of ſtairs to my own room, and out of the window I leaped, to the great terror of my poor miſtreſs. I got up immediately, and ran about two or three hundred yards, towards the meeting-houſe; but alas! I could run no farther; my feet and ancles were moſt intolerably bruiſed, ſo that I was obliged to be carried back and put to bed; and it was more than a month before I recovered the uſe of my limbs. I was ignorant enough to think that the Lord had not uſed me very well, and reſolved not to put ſo much truſt in him for the future.

This my raſh adventure made a great noiſe in the town, and was talked of many miles round. Some ſew admired my amazing ſtrength of faith, but the major part pitied me, as a poor ignorant, deluded and infatuated boy.

LETTER IX. "One makes the rugged paths ſo ſmooth and even, "None but an ill-bred man can miſs of heaven. "Another quits his ſtockings, breeches, ſhirt, "Becauſe he fancies virtue dwells in dirt; "While all concur to take away the ſtreſs, "From weightier points, and lay it on the leſs." Stillingſleet on Converſation. "'Gad I've a thriving traffic in my eye, "Near the mad manſions of Moorfields I'll bawl; "Friends, fathers, mothers, ſiſters, ſons and all, "Shut up your ſhops, and liſten to my call. FOOTE. DEAR FRIEND,

IN the fourth year of my apprenticeſhip my maſter died; now although he was a good huſband, a good father, and a good maſter, &c. yet as he had not the methodiſtical faith, and could not pronounce the Shibboleth of that ſect, I piouſly feared that he was gone to hell.

My miſtreſs thought that his death was haſtened by his uneaſy reſlections on the bad behaviour of his ſons after they commenced methodiſts, as before they were converted each was dutiful and attended to his trade, but after they became ſaints they attended ſo much to their ſpiritual concerns that they acted as though they ſuppoſed they were to be fed and cloathed by miracles, like Mr. Huntingdon, who informs us in his book called "The Bank of Faith," that the Lord ſent him a pair of breeches, that a dog brought him mutton to eat, fiſh died at night in a pond on purpoſe to be eaten by him in the morning; money, and in ſhort every thing he could deſire he obtained by prayer. Thus as foot ſays, "With labour, toil, all ſecond means diſpenſe, "And live a rent-charge upon providence."

To give you a better idea of methodiſtical ignorance and neglect of ordinary means of living, &c. I will relate one inſtance more. Mary Hubbard (an old woman of Mr. Weſley's ſociety) would often waſh her linen, hang it out to dry, and go away to work in the fields, or to Taunton market, four miles from her houſe; and when blamed, ſhe would anſwer "that the Lord watched over her, and all that ſhe had, and that he would prevent any perſon from ſtealing her two old ſmocks, or if he permitted them to be ſtolen he would ſend her two new in their ſtead." And I ſeriouſly aſſure you, ſir, that there are many thouſand Mary Hubbards amongſt the methodiſts.

As I had been bound to my miſtreſs as well as my maſter, I was of courſe an apprentice ſtill. But after my maſter's death I obtained more liberty of conſcience (as I called it) ſo that I not only went to hear the meth diſt ſermons, but was alſo admitted into their ſociety; and I believe they never had a more devou • enthuſiaſtical member; for ſeveral years I regularly attended every ſermon and all their private meetings.

As you are probably unacquainted with the nature of theſe private meetings, a ſhort account of them may perhaps afford you ſome amuſement.

The late Mr. Weſley inſtituted amongſt his people, beſides the public preachings, ſeveral kinds of private meetings; and as the prayer-meeting is the leaſt private of any of them, I will ſirſt take notice of that.

To the prayer-meetings, which were in general held in private houſes, they often invited people who were not of their ſociety. An hymn was firſt ſung, then they all knelt, and the firſt perſon who felt a motion made an extemporary prayer; when he had done another began, and ſo on, for about two hours.

But it ſo happened ſometimes, that one of the brethren began to pray without having the giſt of prayer (as they call it) and then he often ſtuck faſt, like ſome of the young orators at Coach ker's Hall, &c. Prayer-meetings were held in ſuch high eſteem amongſt them that they aſſerted, more were "born again", and more "made free from all the remains of ſin," or in other words of their own, "made perfect as God is perfect" in theſe kinds of meeting, than at public preaching, &c. Thus, as Pomſret ſays,

"The ſpirite heated will ſtrange things produce."

But it is impoſſible for you, my friend, to form any juſt idea of theſe aſſemblies, except you had been preſent at them: one wheedles and coaxes the Divine Being, in his addreſſes; another is amorous and luſcious; and a third ſo rude and commanding, he will even tell the Deity that he muſt be a liar if he does not grant all they aſk. In this manner will they work up one another's imaginations until they may actually be ſaid to be in a ſtate of intoxication, and whilſt in this intoxicated ſtate, it often happens that ſome of them recollect a text of ſcripture, ſuch as "thy ſins are forgiven thee," or "go and ſin no more," &c. and then they declare themſelves to be born again, or to be ſanctified, &c.

They have another kind of private meeting after the public preaching on Sunday evenings, in which the preacher meets all the members of the ſociety, who ſtay behind after the general congregation is diſmiſſed. To this ſociety the preacher gave ſuch advice as he deemed better ſuited to a godly few than to a promiſcuous multidue of "outvard court worſhippers."

Their love-feaſt is alſo a private meeting of as many members of the community as pleaſe to attend; and they generally come from all parts within ſeveral miles of the place where love-feaſts are held.

Whe • all are met they alternately ſing and pray; and ſuch amongſt them as think that their experience (as they call it) is remarkable, ſtand up in their place and relate all the tranſactions between God, the devil, and their ſouls. At ſuch ſeaſons as this I have heard many of them declare they had juſt received the pardon of all their ſins while Brother ſuch-a-one was in prayer; another would then get up and aſſert that he was joſt at that inſtant made perfectly free from ſin.

At theſe times the ſpirit is ſuppoſed to be very powerfully at work amongſt them; and ſuch an uniſon of ſighing and groaning ſucceeds, that you would think they had all loſt their ſenſes. In this frantic ſtate, many apply to themſelves ſuch texts of ſcripture as happen to come into their heads.

In the love-feaſt they have buns to ca • , which are mutually broken between each brother and ſiſter, and they have alſo water to drink, which they hand from one to another. Theſe meetings begin about ſeven o'clock, and laſt until nine, or ten.

In London, Briſtol, and other large places, they have ſome private meetings, unknown to the community at large. Theſe meetings conſiſt of all married men at one time, young and ummarried men at another time, the married women by themſelves, and the ſingle women by themſelves; and to each of theſe claſſes Mr. Weſley went, and gave ſuch advice or exhortations as he thought ſuitable to their ſituation in life, ſeldom failing to ſpeak much in praiſe of celibacy, to the Maids and Bachelors under his paſtoral care. I will in my next give you an account of their watch-nights, claſs-meetings, bands, and other particulars.

LETTER X. "—Here Gamaliel ſage "Trains up his babes of grace, inſtructed well "In all the—diſcipline of prayer; "To point the holy leer: by juſt degrees "To cloſe the twinkling eye; expand the palms, "To expoſe the whites, and with the ſight leſs balls "To glare upon the crowd: to riſe, to ſink "The docile voice; now murm'ring ſoſt and ſlow, "With inward accent calm, and then again, "In foaming floods of rapt'rous eloquence "Let looſe the ſtorm, and thunder thro' the noſe "The threatened vengeance." SOMERVILLE. DEAR FRIEND,

THE Watch-night begins about ſeven o'clock. They ſing hymns, pray, preach, ſing, and pray again; then exhort, ſing and pray alternately, until twelve o'clock. The hymns which they ſing on thoſe nights, were wrote for ſuch occaſions, and abound with gloomy ideas, which are increaſed by the time of night; and it muſt be remarked, that the major part of thoſe who attend theſe nocturnal meetings having faſted the whole of the day (according to Mr. Weſley's orders) are in a very proper ſtate of mind to entertain the moſt extravagant whims or enthuſiaſtic notions that can poſſibly enter the heads of any viſionaries. So that ſuch nights are often very prolific, as numbers are ſaid to be born again, and become the temples of the Holy Ghoſt on watch-nights, which makes thoſe nights eſteemed by them.

Mr. Weſley, in every place where his people were numerous, had divided them into claſſes, conſiſting of twelve or fourteen brothers or ſiſters. Sometimes men and women met together in the ſame claſs (as they called it) and other claſſes conſiſted of all men or all women. Each of theſe claſſes had one in it who was called the leader. In ſuch claſſes where men and women met together, the leader was always a brother: and ſo of courſe when the claſs conſiſted of men alone. But in the women's claſſes a ſiſter was always the leader.

When they met together, the leader firſt gave out an hymn, which they all ſang; after the hymn they all knelt, and their leader made an extemporary prayer; after which they were ſeated, and when the leader had informed them of the ſtate of his own mind, he enquired of all preſent, one after another, how they found the ſtate of their ſouls. Some he found were full of faith and aſſurance, others had dreadful doubts and fears; ſome had horrid temptations; others complained of a lukewarm ſtate, &c. In theſe meetings ſome of the members ſpoke of themſelves, as though they were as pure as angels are in heaven, but with the generality of them, it was far otherwiſe, and nothing was more common among them than to hear the major part exclaiming againſt themſelves, and declaring that they were the moſt vile and abandoned wretches on this ſide hell, that they wondered why the earth did not open and ſwallow them up alive. But they generally added, that "the blood of Chriſt cleanſes from all ſin," and that "where ſin abounded there would grace much more abound." Indeed it was eaſy to remark that the reaſon why they painted themſelves in ſuch odious colous, was only to boaſt of an aſtoniſhing quantity of grace that God had beſtowed on them, in thus pardoning all their abominations and numbering them with the houſehold of faith, who ought to have been ſhut up in the nethermoſt hell. To each of theſe the leader gave a word of comfort, or of correction in the beſt manner he was able. They then ſang and prayed again. This laſted about one hour. And every one in Mr. Weſley's connection did, or was expected to meet, each in his own claſs once in a week. In theſe claſſes each made a weekly contribution towards the general ſupport of the preachers, &c. Such as were very poor contributed a penny per week, others two-pence, and ſome who could afford it, ſix-pence. This money was entered in a book kept for that purpoſe, and one in every claſs called the ſteward, had the care of the caſh.

I now come to ſpeak of the Bands, which conſiſted only of juſtified perſons; that is ſuch as had received the aſſurance of their ſins being pardoned. In the claſſes, both the awakened (as they call them) and the juſtified, and even thoſe that we e made perfect met all together, as did the married and the ſingle, and often men and women. but none were admitted into any band but ſuch as were at leaſt in a juſtified ſtate, and the married of each ſex met by themſelves, and the ſingle by themſelves. About ten was the number generally put in one band; all theſe muſt belong to and meet in ſome claſs, once a week, when not hindered by ſickneſs &c. and they were alſo to meet weekly in their band. When met, they firſt ſung, then made a ſhort prayer; that done, the band-leader informed them of the ſtate of his mind during the laſt week, &c. He then made enquiry into the ſtate of all preſent, and each related what had paſſed ſince they laſt met; and what viſitations they had received from God, what temptations from the devil, the ſleſh, &c. And it is a maxim amongſt them that expoſing to one another what the devil has particularly tempted them to commit, will make the old fellow more careful how he tempts, when he knows that all his ſecrets will be told the next meeting. In the claſſes they only confeſſed in general terms, that they have been tempted by the world, the fleſh and the devil. But in the bands they confeſſed the particular fins which they had been tempted to commit, or had actually committed.

The laſt time I met in band was in London, where an old man (near ſeventy years of age) informed us that he had for ſeveral weeks together laboured under a very grievous temptation of the devil, who all this time had been conſtantly tempting him to commit adultery; he farther informed us, that having let too much of his houſe to lodgers, they were obliged to put the maid's bed in the room where he and his wife ſlept; and that one morning he had ſeen the maid lying aſleep, nearly or quite uncovered, and he again aſſured us that ever ſince that time the devil had been every day tempting him to do that which was nought with the maid. I could not help thinking the old gentleman was right in charging it on the devil, as there was little reaſon to think it was any temptation of the fleſh. Permit me to add, that this old buck had a wiſe about half his own age. I have been informed that ſome young men of the brotherhood, have at times diſguiſed themſelves in women's clothes, and have ſo got into the women's bands; it may be very curious to hear the confeſſions of the holy ſiſters. By this time I ſuppoſe you have had enought of band meetings.

Mr. Weſley inſtituted another kind of private meeting for the higheſt order of his people, called the ſelect bands; to which none were admitted but ſuch as were ſanctified, or made perfect in love, and freed from all the remains of fin. But as I never proſeſſed perfection, I was not permitted to enter into this holy of holies. But I have known a great number of theſe perfect ſaints, of both ſexes; and I alſo lived in the ſame houſe a whole year with one of theſe intire holy ſiſters. A few days before I came to live in Chiſwell-ſtreet, one of theſe perfect ſiſters was detected in ſtealing coals out of the ſhed of one of the ſanctified biothers, but ſhe, like the old fellow above mentioned ſaid it was the devil that tempted her to do it.

Four times every year new tickets are diſtributed to all Mr. Weſley's people throughout the three kingdoms. Their ticket is a very ſinall ſlip of paper, with a text of ſcrip ure on it, which is exchanged every quarter for ſome other text. Such as are only in a claſs, have a different text from ſuch as are in a band, ſo that no one can be admitted into a general meeting of the bands, appointed by any of the preach ers when he intends to give them an exhortation, nor into any particular band, by a common ſociety ticket. On the common tickets are ſuch texts as theſe: "Now is the accepted time."—" Awake thou that ſleepeſt," and ſuch like. But thoſe for the band; are in a higher ſtrain; as, "Be ye perſect as your heavenly father is perfect." "Go on unto perfection,"—"Ye are children of the light."—"Your bodies are temples of the Holy Ghoſt;" and other texts of a ſimilar tendency. For theſe tickets, each poor perſon paid one ſhilling, ſuch as were rich paid more; indeed the money ſeemed to be the principal end of iſſuing tickets, at leaſt in country places, the members in the community being ſo well known to each other, that they ſcarce ever ſhewed their tickets in order to gain admittance. I forgot to inform you that prayer-meetings, claſs-meetings, band-meetings, &c. were in general held in private houſes, belonging to ſome of the brethren.

LETTER XI. "Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong; "Was every thing by ſtarts and nothing long," "Then all for women, panting, rhiming, drinking, "Beſides ten thouſand freaks that died in thinking. DEAR FRIEND,

YOU now ſee what ſort of a ſociety I was got into. In country places particularly, they conſiſt of ſarmers, huſbandmen, ſhoemakers, woolcombera, weavers, their wives, &c. I have heard Mr. Weſley remark that more women are converted than men; and I believe that by far the greateſt part of his people are females; and not a few of them four, diſappointed old ma ds, with fome others of a leſs prudiſh diſpoſition.

Lavater in his eſſay on phyſiognomy ſays, "Women ſink into the moſt incurable melancholy, as they alſo riſe to the moſt enraptured heights," In another place he ſays, "By the irritability of their nerves, their incapability for deep inquiry and firm deciſion, they may eaſily from their extreme ſenſibility, become the moſt irreclaimable, the moſt rapturous enthuſiaſts."

There are thouſands in this ſociety who will never read any thing beſides the bible, and books publiſhed by Mr. Weſley. For ſeveral years I read very little elſe, nor would I go (at leaſt very ſeldom) to any other place of worſhip; ſo that inſtead of hearing the ſenſible and learned miniſters of Taunton, I would often go four, five, or ſix miles to ſome country village, to hear an inſpired huſbandman, ſhoemaker, black ſmith, or wool comber; and frequently in froſt and ſnow have I roſe a little after midnight (not knowing what time of night it was) and have wandered about the town until five o'clock, when the preaching began; where I have often heard a ſermon preached to not more than ten or a dozen people. But ſuch of us as did attend at this early hour, uſed afterwards to congratulate each other on the great privilege we enjoyed, then off we went to our work, ſhivering with cold.

I was firſt converted to methodiſm when I was about ſixteen years of age, from that time until I was twenty-one I was a very ſincere enthuſiaſt, and every ſpare hour I enjoyed I dedicated to the ſtudy of the bible, reading methodiſtical books, learning hymns, hearing ſermons, meeting in ſocieties, &c. My memory was very tenacious, ſo that every thing I read I made my own. I could have repeated ſeveral volumes of hymns; when I heard a ſermon, I could have peached it again, and nearly in the ſame words; my bible had hundreds of leaves folded down, and thouſands of marks againſt ſuch texts as I thought favoured the doctrines (or whims) which I had imbibed. So that I ſtood forth as the champion of methodiſm wherever I came.

But alas! my godly ſtrict liſe at length ſuffered interruption. I will give you a ſarther account of the method • ts when I come to the time when I finally leſt their ſociety.

The election for two members of parliament was ſtrongly conteſted at Taunton, juſt as I attained my twenty-firſt year; and being now of age, the fix or ſeven months, which I had to ſerve of my apprentiſhip were purchaſed of my miſtreſs by ſome friends of two of the contending candidates; ſo that I was at once ſet free in the midſt of a ſcene of riot and diſſipation. "Preſent example gets within our guard, "And acts with double force, by few repell'd." YOUNG. "Nor ſhame, nor honour could prevail, "To keep me thus from turning tail."

As I had a vote, and was alſo poſſeſſed of a few ideas above thoſe of my rank and ſituation, my company was courted by ſome who were in a much higher ſphere; and (probably what they partly intended) in ſuch company I ſoon forgot my godly or methodiſtical connections, and ran into the oppoſite extreme: ſo that for ſeveral months moſt of my ſpare hours were devoted to the "Young-ey'd God of Wine! Parent of joys! "Frohe and full of thee, while the cold ſons "Of temperance, the fools of thought and care, "Lay ſtretch'd in ſober ſlumbers." MALLAT'S Eur • dice.

Here I had nearly ſunk for ever into meanneſs, obſcurity and vice; for when the election was over, I had no ••• ger open houſes to eat and drink in at free coſt.

However I did not ſink quite ſo low as the commonality of journeymen ſhoemakers, but in general worked very hard, and ſpent my money in better company.

Notwithſtanding, at times I was very uneaſy, and although I had not been at any methodiſtical meeting during the time that I had lived this diſſipated life, yet my mind was not freed entirely from the ſuperſtitious fears I had there imbibed; ſo that whenever any perſon aſked me, what would become of me (that had lived ſuch a holy life) if I ſhould die in the ſtate of backſliding from "the good old way?" I always acknowledged that I ſhould be eternally damn'd, were that to be the caſe. E • t I muſt confeſs that I was not much afraid of dying in ſuch a ſtate, as I was too much prepoſſeſſed with the methodiſtical notions of free grece, that would not let me finally be loſt, preſtaning that I muſt wait as it were for a ſecond call to repentance, juſhſication, &c. which I had been taught to believe might take place inſtantaneouſly, and put 〈…〉 in a hurry, and ſo 〈◊〉 .

I often privately took the bible to bed with me, and in the long ſummer mornings read for hours together in bed, but this did not in the leaſt influence my conduct. As you know great events often ariſe from little cauſes, I am now going to relate a circumſtance, trivial in itſelf, though productive of a more conſiderable change in my ſituation, then any I had yet experienced.

I was twenty-one years of age the 11th of September, 1767, the election was over the latter end of March, 1768. It was in this year that my new maſter's wife infiſted on my purchaſing milk of a milk-maid who was a cuſtomer at the ſhop; which command I refuſed to comply with, as I had a ſmart little milk-maid of my own. But as my miſtreſs wore the breeches, my maſter was obliged, by his wife's order, to inform me that I muſt comply with her mandate, or get another maſter. I leſt him without heſitation; and the ſame afternoon went to Wellington, took leave of my father and mother, and informed them of my intention to go to Briſtol. After two or three days I retorned back to Taunton, where I ſtayed a day or two more. In which time I became c • amoured with, or inſatuated by, the beautiful Nancy Trott: and although I ſaw the impropriety of the meaſure, yet I could not reſiſt the fair tempter, who prevailed with me to permit her to accompany me in my journey.

"Reaſon was given to curb our headſtrong will, "And yet but ſhews a weak phyſician's ſkill; "Gives nothing while the raging ſit does laſt, "But ſtays to cure it when the worſt is paſt. "Reaſon's a ſtaff for age, when nature's gone; "But youth is ſtrong enough to walk alone." DRYDEN's Con. of Gran.

We reſted a week in Bridgewater, where I worked and got money to convey us to Exbridge, ſeventeen miles on this ſide Briſtol; and there I ſaw my conduct in ſuch a point of view as made me reſolve to leave her.

"In well-ſeign'd accidents, now they hail my ear, "My life, my love, my charmer, or my dear." "As if theſe ſounds, theſe joyleſs ſounds could prove "The ſmalleſt particle of genuine love, "O! purchas'd love, retail'd thro' half the town. "Where each may ſhare on paying half-a-crown; "Where every air of tenderneſs is art, "And not one word the language of the heart; "Where all is mockery of Cupid's reign, "End in remorſe, in wretchedneſs and pain. Art of living in London.

My finances amounted to three ſhillings and one penny, out of which I gave her half a crown, and with the remaining ſevenpence, without informing her of my purpoſe, I ſet off for Briſtol; where I arrived in a few hours, and got work the ſame evening.

A few days after I went to the inn where the Taunton carrier put up, to onquire after Miſs Trott, as I wanted to know if ſhe had returned ſafe to Taunton. I was informed that ſhe was in Briſtol nearly as ſoon as I was. Knowing but little of the world, and ſtill leſs of women of her deſcription, I was quite unhappy on her account, for fear that being in a ſtrange place ſhe might be in want and diſtreſs; which thought induced me to offer to ſeveral of my countryment five ſhillings to the firſt who ſhould bring me an account where I might find her; but I did not ſee her until ſeveral weeks after that.

The Taunton carrier gave me a letter from my good miſtreſs Bowden (who by marrying again had changed her name to Dingle). The contents of this letter very much ſurpriſed me. If informed me that a day or two before I ſell out with my laſt miſtreſs (which was the triſling cauſe of my having Taunton) Betty Tucker, a common laſs had ſworn a child to me; that the pariſh o •••••• s had been to my maſter's ſhop within an hour after I had left it to go to Wellington, and that they had been at Wellington juſt as I had left that place, and afterwards hearing that I was in Bridgwater they had purſued me thither. But the morning on which they arrived, I had ſet off for Exbridge; and believing that I had intentionally fled before them, they had given over the chaſe for the preſent.

Reſlecting on this affair, although my conduct was very far from entitling me to entertain ſuch a ſuppoſition yet I was then weak enough to imagine, that being a particular ſavourite of heaven a kind of miracle had been wrought to ſave me from a priſon, or from marrying a woman I could not bear the idea of living with a ſingle week; and as I had not any knowledge of her being with child (not having ſeen her for three months before) I had not taken any meaſure to avoid the conſequence, but put myſelf in the way of the officers: for, as I have juſt told you after I had taken leave of my father and mother, I went back to Taunton, and walked about publicly one whole day, and part of another.

This girl was delivered about two months afterwards of a ſtill born child, ſo that I was never troubled for expences. Methinks you are ready to ſay with Pomfret,

"'Tis eaſy to deſcend into the ſnare, "By the pernicious conduct of the fair: "But ſafely to return from their abode "Requires the wit, the prudence of a God."

LETTER XII. "—Learn to ſean "The various foibles of imperfect man." Art of Living in London. DEAR FRIEND,

THE ſubject of my laſt recalls to my mind a ridiculous affair, which excited much mirth in that part of the country.

During the election at Taunton, a gentleman one day came in a poſt-chaiſe to the White-hart Inn, kept by Mr. Baldwin, and after having refreſhed himſelf, ſtrolled into the yard, and ſeeing the hoſtler, aſked him if he could inform him where they took in the news? The hoſtler underſtanding him in a literal ſenſe, directed him to a bookſeller's ſhop on the oppoſite ſide of the way; this ſhop was kept by Miſs A—d—n, a beautiſul young lady of irreproachable character, and one whoſe ſine underſtanding and poliſhed taſte did honour to the profeſſion; which profeſſion ſhe only adopted for an amuſement, as ſhe poſſeſſed an independent fortune.

Our gentleman on entering the ſhop, enquired of the ſhop-maid for her miſtreſs, but the maid being uſed to ſerve in the ſhop, and knowing that her miſtreſs had ſome ladies with her, informed the gentleman that ſhe could help him to any thing that he wanted. But on his ſaying he had ſome private buſineſs with her miſtreſs, he was ſhewed into a back parlour, and the miſtreſs being informed a gentleman wanted to ſpeak to her, ſhe went directly to him. The moment ſhe entered the room, he claſped her in his arms, called her a divine creature, &c. This ſo alarmed Miſs A—d—n that ſhe ſereamed aloud; on hearing of which, the ladies preceded by the houſemaid and ſhop-maid repaired to the parlour, where they found Miſs A—d—n almoſt in fits. The gentleman thinking it was only a trick to raiſe her price, took but little n • tice, on which one of the maids ran out and called in ſeveral of the neighbours, who on coming into the parlour, ſaw with aſtor •• ment our Sir Harry Wildair taking 〈◊〉 per liberties with Miſs A—d—n, and d • ſired him to deſiſt. But he deſned them not to attempt to put tricks on travellers, and ordered them to leave the room. Inſtead of obeying his injunctions they in a reſolute tone ordered our ſpark to go inſtantly about his buſineſs. However he ſtill kept his ground, until the mayor of the town, who happened to live juſt by, was called in. Mr. mayor demanded to know why he took ſuch freedom with the lady? Our gentleman, ſeeing that the affair began to look very ſerious, now became calm, and informed the company that having an inclination for a frolic, he had inquired for a bad houſe, and had been directed there; adding that if there had been any miſtake, he was very ſorry for it, and would beg the lady's pardon. On hearing this, the company was more ſurpriſed than before, and demanded of the gentleman, who had informed him that that houſe was a bawdy-houſe? He, without heſitation replied, the hoſtler at the White Hart. Upon this the hoſtler was ſent for, and on his being aſked, if he had directed that gentleman, to Miſs A—d—n's as to a bawdy, houſe? The poor fellow, with marks of terror and ſurpriſe anſwered, no. The gentleman never aſked me for a bawdy-houſe, he only aſked me for a houſe where they took in the news. So that he hoſtler's underſtanding him in a literal ſenſe, cauſed all the confuſion. The affair however had got ſo much air that our ſpark was glad to leave the town immediately.

A very ſtrange unaccountable circumſtance happened in this Inn, about the ſame time; one of thoſe occurrences that puzzle the philoſopher, and ſtrengthen ſuperſtition in weak minds. Three or four gentlemen of the neighbourhood were drinking wine in one of the rooms, when the landlord of the Inn (as it appeared to them) walked into the room, and coming up to the table, around which they were ſeated, they addreſſed him with Mr. Baldwin, how do you do? ſit down and take a glaſs of wine with us; but inſtead of doing as requeſted, the ſuppoſed Inn-keeper walked out of the room, without making any reply; which not only ſurpriſed, but offended the company, who rung the bell violently, and on the waiter's appearance, they ordered him to ſend in his maſter. The waiter informed them that his maſter was not at home. The gentlement replied that he was at home a ſew minutes ſince, and therefore they inſiſted on ſeeing him; but the man aſſured them they were miſtaken, as his maſter was in Briſtol, and had been there ſeveral days. They then ordered the waiter to ſend in Mrs. Baldwin, who immediately appearing, the gentlemen aſked her where Mr. Baldwin was, and ſhe informed them as the waiter had already done, that he was in Briſltol, and had been there feveral days, on which the gentlemen grew very angry, and ſwore that Mr. Baldwin had juſt before come into the room, and on their requeſting him to partake of their wine, had inſulted them by going out of the room, without deigning to give them an anſwer. Mrs. Baldwin then drew out of her pocket aletter ſhe had that morning received from Mr. Baldwin, by which it was apparent, that he really was in Briſtol. The ſtory was then told round the neighbourhood, and all the old women concluded that Mr. Baldwin muſt certainly be dead, and that he died at the very inſtant that the gentlemen ſaw him come into the room; but Mr. Baldwin returning two days after, rendered it neceſſary for them to vary their ſtory; they then aſſerted that it was a token, or ſome warning of his death, and had no doubt but it would very ſoon happen. It was generally tho't that Mr. Baldwin was weak enough to pay ſuch attention to the ſtory and the inſerence, as to hurt his health, as he really died within a year after, and the old women were not a litile • leaſed at the event, as it tended to 〈1 line〉 .

A more ridiculous affair happened about ten years ſince, at the two bells, oppoſite Whitechapel church. The landlord was ſitting one night with ſome jovial company, one of whom happened to ſay that he prayed to God, that ſuch a thing ſhould not come to paſs, the landlord replied in a good humoured manner, your prayers will neither do good or harm; upon which the other ſaid a deal to perſuade the hoſt that his prayers would do great things; but the more he ſaid in praiſe of his prayers, the more the landlord laughed at, and ridiculed him. The man at laſt inſiſted that he could pray the landlord to death in two months time, and offered to bet him a crown bowl of punch to the truth of it, which the landlord accepting, the wager was laid, and almoſt every night after this, the man came to the houſe, and conſtantly laughed at the landlord, and aſſured him that he would loſe his wager; and however ſtrange in may appear, our hoſt did die within the time, and his widow paid the wager. I think there cannot remain a doubt but that the ridiculous talk of the fellow actually affected the landlord's mind, and haſtened his death, and the following inſtances tend alſo to ſhew how eaſily the lives of ſome are ſhortened.

Being at Briſtol about ſour years ſince, I enquired after a worthy leather ſeller whom I had ſormerly known, and was informed that he was lately dead, and that his death was ſuppoſed to have been haſtened by a famous fortune-teller, who having caſt his nativity, declared that he would die within ſix months, which afflicted his mind ſo as to accompliſh the prediction. The ſtory of the late Dr. Pitcairn, of Edinburgh, and the collier is well known.

I have ſet down the above inſtances, in order to ſhew how eaſy it is to trifle away the lives of our fellow creatures, and ſurely ſuch who wantonly do it, muſt afterwards have very gloomy reflections.

LETTER XIII. "I had a friend that lov'd me: "I was his ſoul: he livid not but in me. "We were ſo choſe link'd in each other's breaſt. "The rivits were not found that join'd us fast. DRYDEN's All for Love. DEAR FRIEND,

I BEFORE mentioned my arrival at Briſiol, where I took a lodging in Caſtle-ſtreet, at the houſe of a Mr. James; a much more decent reſident than commonly falls to the lot of journeymen ſhoemakers.

In this houſe I found a Mr. John Jones, a genteel young man, juſt turned of twenty-one years of age: He was alſo a ſon of Criſpin, and made women's ſtuff ſhoes; which he ſold by the dozen to warehouſes. This Mr. Jones and I were ſoon very intimate; we kept ourſelves neatly dreſſed, and in general worked head, ſpending our money chieſly in the company of women. As, "All men have follies, which they blindly trace, "Thro' the durk turnings of a dubious maze, "But happy thoſe, who by a predent cane, "Retreat by times from the • allac • ous ſnare • :' POMFRET.

We followed this courſe about four months. During this time Mr, Jones once perſuaded me to go with him to the playhouſe. where we ſaw Shakeſpear's fine comedy of "As you like it." This was a ſeaſt indeed to me, who had never before ſ • en nor even read any theatrical production. 'Tis impoſſible for me to deſcribe my ſenſations on the occaſion. Between the play and the entertainment (which was the Mayor of Garrat) Mr Edward Shuter performed a ſhort piece called "The dunken man." This was the only time that I ever ſaw that extraordinary genius, but he made ſuch an impreſſion on my mind, that it is impoſſible I ever ſhould forget him. I believe it is not generally known, and as ſew would ever have ſuſpected, that this child of Momus was alſo a child of grace.

Since the publication of the firſt edition of theſe memoirs, I have read "The memoirs of Mr. Tate Wilkinſon," patentee of the Theatres Royal of York and Hull, and was much ſurpriſed to learn that the famous Ned Shuter was a gracious ſoul. I will give you a paſſage or two out of Mr. Wilkinſon's memoirs, vol. ii. page 142, 12mo edition, &c. "Mrs. Rich was a methodiſt, not that I mention it as a recommendation, or that ſhe was a better chriſtian for bowing at the ſhrine of nonſenſe and hypocriſy. Mr. Foot's laſh on methodiſin at that time was ſeverely ſelt by that ſect; their compoſition is gloom, melancholy, envy, and ſpleen; cheerfulneſs is ſeldom obſerved to dawn upon their countenances. Notwithſtanding their boaſted inſpirations, if methodiſt preachers had a little reflection, what muſt they think of daring to pronounce every theatre the devil's houſe, and all the players the devil's children! I hope they are joking; and though it may be joking, I am ſorry to ſay it is wicked. To make a complete actor requires more requiſites to univerſally excel than almoſt any other profeſſion whatever.

"The amazing powers diſplayed by a Garrick, a Barry, a Mrs. Cibber, and a Siddons, and many others, is evidently the hand of God; he alone could give the finiſh to ſuch intrinſic merit. And that the Almighty has intended them for that very work is evident; which, if not ſo produced, the world would have loſt ſeeing the higheſt pitch of admiration the human frame can aſpire to. To mention Shakeſpeare only, prove more than all the before-mentioned perſons; as he is a hoſt, and ſtands unequalled as a moral writer, in many points, as well the wonder of the world, as an univerſal genius. I do not wiſh to inſinuate that every methodiſt is an hypocrite, but I mean that I think the greateſt part are really ſo. So of the preachers, I believe there are ſome in earneſt, though I fear the number might be eaſily told. When perſons get to the hei • ht of a Whitefield and a Weſley's fame for acting, there is a pride as well as a duty in behaving well, and they both laboured hard: but I dare ſay neither of thoſe gentlemen ever refuſed a golden ticket for their ſeparate beneſits any more than I ever did. O yes, I actually did once reſuſe five guineas at York! but I was modeſt and rejected it; I expected it to be offered the ſecond time—it was not; what then? why then I was diſappointed, and never will be ſo ſooliſh again, if opportunity offers. Let one of the tabernacle boaſt the ſame—they know better—and that a bird in the hand is worth two in the buſh. But O ye ſaints of your own creating! I will preach to you—mark! judge not of plays and players leſt you be judged. Thoſe who are the moſt cenſorious on the infirmities of others, are uſually moſt notoriouſly guilty of far greater failings themſelves; and ſanctified methodiſtical ſlander is, of all the moſt ſevere, bitter and cruel, and is ſo eaſily diſtinguiſhed, unleſs by the elect, that it is not worth dwelling any longer upon it.

"In the comedy of the hypocrite, the colonel ſays he ſuppoſes they go to the play for the beneſit of the brethren: Cantwell anſwers "the charity covereth the ſin;" which was actually the caſe; for in the year 1757, as Sh •• er was bountiful to the taber-n • cle, Mr. Whitefield not only permitted, but adviſed his hearers to attend Shuter's benefit; but (a-la-node theatre) for that night only. A preacher at Hull was once in diſtreſs and impriſoned; I actually ſent him a leg of mutton and turnips. Previous to that I had 〈◊〉 an attendant at his tabernacle; he entertained great hopes of my converſion; and I certainly conſeſs to the being wicked enough to have been deemed a tabernacle methodiſt. I had then quitted the old play-houſe in Lowgate, for a new one in Pinkle-ſtreet. That the principal performers of conventicles love to follow the ſmell of a theatre is evident, by their particularly conſecrating thoſe unhallowed ſhops, and thinking them enviable ſituations to practiſe their own love-feaſts in. "Put out the light, and then"—So this Reverend Mr. Rutherford, formerly a London coachman, erected his pulpit on the ſpot where Brutus had been in his pulpit alſo: the pit he converted into pews, and the ſtage and ſide boxes were appropriated for the beaus and belles. Here follows (moſt truly copied) his letter to me cauſed partly by the braſs rims not being come from York to Hull; for he told me over a bottle, to which he had no averſion, but he wanted a collection to purchaſe candleſticks, and I having leſt off uſing thoſe braſs rims (when Mr. Garrick changed the mode of lighting he ſtage with ſix branches that uſed formerly to be 〈◊〉 downat the end of every act, which required a nimble fingered candle ſnuffer) I promiſed my reverend father, the methodiſt, I would light his tabernacle, aye, and performed it too.

"TO TATE WILKINSON, Eſq

"Dear Sir,

"As your engagements in public and mine run counter, I did not know when to wait on you as to a proper ſeaſon; and therefore as you was ſo good and ſympathiſing, to act from ſuch a noble ſpirit of humanity to the diſtreſſed, as propoſing to take a pwe in my chapel in Lowgate, I ſhall leave the four beſt pews to the generoſity of the perſons that engage; ſo whoever leads the way will be a pattern for the others. I verily think, without the leaſt flattery, that your encouragement of ſuch things will be ſuch an honour to the ſtage, and beſpeak the fame of the comedians, as will perpetuate your name more than Alexander the greats. I ſhall be glad to know what place you fix on, and when I ſhall wait on you, and whether the candleſticks are come. May heaven lead you with all kind of bleſlings for time and an unſeen world.

From your humble and much obliged ſervant ROBT. RUTHERFORD.

Hull, Jan, 10, 1771.

"At times I have heard good diſcourſes from Mr. Whitefield, delivered with energy, feeling, and pathos; but then he had been really and truly an actor on the ſlage in the early part of his life; and as he liked tragedy, and found that a pair of ſquinting eyes (as may be ſeen by his print) did not move the young ladies' tender hearts, but produced laughter inſtead of tears; he d—d the ſtage, and ever after ſtuck to that text; but he often melted and ſqueezed to ſome purpoſe many a rich dowager, who felt the power of his feelings from their mutual ſympathy. The low ſtuff of the preachers in general is not worth repeating; but to ſhew I have not often attended without ſometimes being a good boy, I will begin with the ſecond beſt performer in that line I ever ſaw, and give his harangue verbatin; and though but frothy ſtuff, it is much better, and more like reaſon than the damnation ſo teni • ly thundered out, too often in ſtage invective; ſo much ſo that were they not hardened by the ſamiliarity of their ſire, brimſtone and pitchſorks; if it thund • ed I ſhould ſear leſs if in a play 〈◊〉 • han in the tabernacle, part cularly if near the preacher.

"Mr. Weſley about four years ago, in the fields at Leeds, for want of room for his congregation in his tabernacle, gave an account of himſelf by informing us, that when he was at college he was particularly fond of devils pops (or cards) and ſaid, that every Saturday he was one of a conſtant party at whiſt, not only for the afternoon, but alſo for the evening; he then mentioned the names of ſeveral reſpectable gentlemen who were with him at college. But, continued he, the latter part of my time there I became acquainted with the Lord, I uſed to hold communication with him. On my firſt acquaintance, ſaid Weſley, I uſed to talk with the Lord once a week, then every day, from that to twice a day, till at laſt the intimacy ſo increaſed, that he appointed a meeting once in every four hours. He recollected, he ſaid, the laſt Saturday he ever played at cards; that the rubber at whiſt was longer than he expected, and on obſerving the tediouſneſs of the game, he pulled out his watch, when to his ſhame he found it was ſome minutes paſt eight, which was beyond the time he had appointed to meet the Lord: he thought the devil had certainly tempted him to ſtay beyond his hour, he therefore ſuddenly gave his cards to a gentleman near him to finiſh the game, and went to the place appointed, beſeeching forgiveneſs for his crime, and reſolved never to play with the devil's pops again. That reſolution he had never broken; and what was more extraordinary, that his brother and ſiſter, though diſtant from Cambridge, experienced ſigns of grace on that ſame day, on that ſame hour, in the month of October. After the eaſy acquaintance he had made, the idea of which I think too ſolemn to declare and mention in the familiar manner thoſe ſelf elected people do; what muſt have become of all the tribes before us for the laſt, ſeventeen hundred years but damnation? how unfortunate that methodiſm did not ſtart up through a trap-door many centuries ago! what a hypocritical led-by-the-noſe world it would then have been!

"Mr. Weſley, after expatiating on the devil's pops, ſaid, "Now, my dear friends! if you think there is no harm follows from playing at cards, why play at cards: if you think, my dear brethern, there is no harm in hunting a poor little hare and depriving it of life, why you may go a hunting without being guilty of ſin: I do not ſay you will be d—d for that, provided in your conſcience you do not think you are doing wrong. If you think there is no harm in playing with the devil's books, or going to an aſſembly, where you ſhall ſtay till two or three o'clock in the morning, and where they dance belly to belly and back to back, and put themſelves in the moſt unſeemly poſtures; why if you think there is no harm in going to that aſſembly, you may go. "I am told," continued Weſley, "you have a wicked play-houſe in Leeds—I do not ſay you will be d—d for going to ſee a play, if you think there is no harm in ſeeing a play. But now, my dear brethren, let me call you to a recollection of thoſe triſling matters; though you have heard me repeat that I do not pronounce damnation on my hearers for playing on the devil's pops, or for killing a harmleſs hare and depriving it of life—though I have not ſaid the devil is with ſpreading arms expecting to receive you, but that you may go to an aſſembly, or even to the devil's houſe, without damnation; yet, my dear brethren, if inſtead of the devil's pops, the going a hunting, or to the dancing aſſembly, or to ſee a play, you can, like me, get acquainted and enter into converſation and intimacy with the Lord, who will talk, who will hold converſe with you here on earth—how can you prefer ſuch vanities of this fooliſh world to real bliſs in this and the world to come? Here ends Mr. Weſley.

"The Rev. Mr. Whitefield (the firſt actor in the methodiſt walk) was of a contrary caſt entirely, and not without humour here and there. His dialect was very particular; Lurd inſtead of Lord, Gud inſtead of God, as, O Lurd Gud. I remember a text of his was, May we all work the harder. "There was a poor woman, and ſhe was a long time before ſhe was converted: ſhe was three ſcore years and ten—yes ſhe was; ſhe was three ſcore years and ten:—"Sir (ſays ſhe to the good man that converted her) ſir (ſays ſhe) I am three ſcore years and ten, I have been a long time about it; but ſir (ſays ſhe) I will work the harder; yes, ſir (ſays ſhe) I will work the harder!" And O! may you all like that dear good woman "work the harder." Then followed a groan of applauſe; for he had, like Mr. Bayes, a ſelected number of his pit that underſtood their cues, and was ſure to applaud, and the reſt of the houſe followed of courſe. Then Whitefield, looking round the rails of his little deſk below—"What, you young ones! why you are ſome of you twelve, ſome fourteen, and ſome ſixteen years of age, yet you do not think of going to hell? What?" exclaimed Whitefield, "twelve and fourteen years of age and not think of going to hell! O ye little brats you!" and at that inſtant the old woman groaned, and like ſell Charybdis, murmured hoarſe applauſe; and Whitefield ſhook his head, and growled in his white whig exactly like my performance of ſquintum, as I exactly practiſed it from the ſerious comical diſcourſe I am now relating. Whitefield then proceeded thus, "You go to plays! and what do you ſee there! Why, if you will not tell me, I will tell you what you ſee there!—When you ſee the players on the ſtage, you ſee the devil's children grinning at you; and when you go to the play-houſe, I ſuppoſe you go in ruffles—I wonder whether St. Paul wore ruffles? No; there were no ruffles in thoſe days." "I am told," continued he archly, "that people ſay I bawl —well I allow it, I do bawl, and I will bawl—I will not be a velvet-mouthed preacher, I will not ſpeak the word of Gud in a ſleepy manner, like your church preachers —I'll tell you a ſtory.

"The Archbiſhop of Canterbury in the year 1675, was acquainted with Mr. Butterton the player. One day the arch biſhop of Canterbury ſaid to Butterton the player, "pray inform me Mr. Butterton, what is the reaſon you actors on the ſtage can affect your congregations with ſpeaking of things imaginary, as if they were real, while we in church ſpeak of things real, which our congregations only receive as if they were imaginary?' "Why, my lord (ſays Butterton the player) the reaſon is very plain. We actors on the ſtage, ſpeak of things imaginary, as if they were real, and you in the pulpit ſpeak of things real, as if they were imaginary." "Therefore," added Whitefield, "I will bawl, I will not be a velvet-mouthed preacher." I leave the reader to judge on the good reaſoning of methodiſm. I Cannot help noticing for the honour of the ſtage, that Mr. Whitefield could not have betrayed himſelf into a better ſtory for its credit (his pointing out an intimacy between the lord archbiſhop of Canterbury, and Mr. Butterton) and for the actor, he could not have given a more ſubſtantial and revered authority: and what a joke for Mr. Whitefield to pronounce damnation on players, when he certainly avowed in his own opinion, that Mr. Butterton was, what all the world ever acknowledged him to be, a ſcholar and gentleman of honour; and Mr. Whitefield gave the players reaſoning and exemplification, for his own mode of preaching. But hypocriſy, like the cloven foot, will ſometimes be eſpied.

"Some of the wild preachers of this kind, often remind me of Antonio in the merchant of Venice.

"Mark you this Baſſanio! "The devil can cite ſcripture for his purpoſe; "An evil ſoul, producing holy witneſs, "Is like a villain with a ſmiling cheek, "A goodly apple rotten at the heart. "O! what a goodly outſide falſhood hath!

"Bell's edition bears this note on theſe lines. "A moſt excellent remark this; for daily experience proves, that ſome of the worſt characters breathing, ſeek ſhelter under ſcriptural texts; by the miſapplication or miſconſtruction of which, alſo, oppoſite ſects uncharitably conſign each other to eternal puniſhment,"

Page 163.—" Mr. Whitefield was beyond compare; his manner was then univerſally known.—Mr. Foote was ſtruck by ſtepping in by chance, and once hearing Whitefield; the mixture of whoſe abſurdity, whim, conſequence, and extravagance, pleaſed his fancy and entertained him highly, as Whitefield was that day dealing out damnation, fire and brimſtone, as cheerfully as if they were ſo many bleſſings. What pity it is that our fears only, and not our reaſon, will bring conviction; but reaſon, handled by unaffected pure piety and religion, would be a day of woe to methodiſm, and leſſen their audiences in many tabernacles, where they are certain to lament preaching to nobody, though at the ſame time wedged to the outer doors, and on the Sunday exclaiming at the full crowded theatres, which have probably been almoſt deſerted. But Mr. Foote was only a ſpy at Whitefield's academy, while I had been a zealot for ſome ſeaſons before my encounter at Covent Garden with Mr. Foote. My attendance had been conſtant with my friend Shuter, and as he was actually one of the new-born, and paid large ſums to Whitefield, I was always permitted to ſtay with him, for he really was bewildered in his brain, more by wiſhing to acquire imaginary grace, than by all his drinking; and whenever he was warm with the bottle, and with only a friend or two, like Maw-worm he could not mind his ſhop, becauſe he thought it was a ſin, and wiſhed to go a preaching; for ſhuter, like Maw-worm, believed he had a call. I have gone with Shuter at ſix in the morning of a Sunday to Tottenham Court Road, then before ten to Mr. Weſley's in Long Acre, at eleven again to Tottenham Court Road tabernacle, dined near Bedlam in Moorfields (a very proper place for us both) with a party of the holy ones, went at three to Mr. Weſley's theatre there (the tabernacle I mean) from that to Whitefield's in Moorfields till eight, and then ſhut up to commune with the family compact. Now with all this practice and attention, and with my natural talents, I muſt have been a blockhead indeed not to have gleaned ſome good things (and doubtleſs Mr. Whitefield was at times a good preacher, and truly excellent). I therefore really exhibited and obtained a much ſtronger likeneſs as Dr. Squintum, than Mr. Foote did. The week before my Covent Garden exhibition, I met my friend Shuter at the tabernacle; a great coolneſs had continued for ſome time, as we had not ſpoke to or even looked at each other ſince the breach between us in the year 1758; but as we were met together in a place of charity and forgiveneſs to all who ſubſcribed to the dictator, we became very ſociable, and before the concluſion of Whitefield's lecture were perfectly reconciled. We adjourned to the Roſe, and by three the next morning were ſworn friends, and contunued ſo till death called him away. Indeed he was above cleven years older than me, and would have been ſixty three had he lived to this time. Ned Shuter was a lively, ſpirited ſhrewd companion; ſuperior natural whim and humour ſurely never inhabited a human breaſt, for what he ſaid and did was all his own, as it was with difficulty he could read the parts he had to play, and could not write at all; he had attained to ſign an order, but no more. Nature could not have beſtowed her gifts to greater advantage than on poor Ned, as what ſhe gave he made ſhine not only conſpicuouſly but brilliantly, and that to the delight of all who knew him on or off the ſtage—he might be truly dubbed "The Child of Nature:"—He was no man's enemy but his own. Peace, reſt, and happineſs. I hope he now peſſeſſes—for the poor, the friendleſs, and the ſtranger he often comforted; and when ſometimes reduced by his follies, he never could ſee a real object in miſery, and reſiſt giving at leaſt half he was worth to his diſtreſſed fellow creature."

It is ſingular enough that about this time, although I could not write, yet I compoſed ſeveral ſongs, one of which was ſold for a guinea; ſome were given to the Briſtol printers, who printed them and the ballad-fingers ſung them about the ſtreets; on which occaſions I was as proud as though I, had compoſed an opera. My friend Mr. Jones was my ſecretary, who before I came to live with him had not the leaſt reliſh for books, and I had only read a few enthuſiaſtic authors, together with Pomfret's poems, this laſt I could almoſt repeat by memory; however I made the moſt of my little ſtock of literature, and ſtrongly recommended the purchaſing of books to Mr. Jones. But ſo ignorant were we on the ſubject, that neither of us knew what books were fit for our peruſul, nor what to enquire for, as we had ſcarce ever heard or ſeen even any title pages, except a few of the religious ſort, which at that time we had no reliſh for. So that we were at a loſs how to increaſe our ſmall ſtock of ſcience. And here I cannot help thinking that had fortune thrown proper books in our way, we ſhould have imbibed a juſt taſte for literature, and ſoon made ſome tolerable progreſs; but ſuch was our obſcurity, that it was next to impoſſible for us ever to emerge from it.

As we could not tell what to aſk for, we were aſhamed to go into the bookſellers ſhops; and I aſſure you, my friend, that there are thouſands now in England in the very ſame ſituation: many, very many have come to my ſhop, who have diſcovered an enquiring mind, but were totally at a loſs what to aſk for, and who had no friend to direct them.

"—Reaſon grows apace, and calls, "For the kind hand of an aſſiduous care. "Delightful taſk! to r • ar the tender thought, "To teach the y •• ng idea how to ſhoot, "To pour the freſh inſtruction o'er the mind, "To breathe th' enlivening ſpirit, and to fix "The gen'rous purpoſe in the glowing breaſt." THOMSON.

One day as my friend Jones and I were ſtrolling about the fair that is annually held in and near St. James's church yard, we ſaw a ſtall of books, and in looking over the title pages, I met with Hobbes's tranſlation of Homer's Iliad and Odyſſey. I had ſomehow or other heard that Homer was a great poet, but unfortunately I had never heard of Pope's tranſlation of him, ſo we very eagerly purchaſed that by Hobbes. At this ſtall I alſo purchaſed Walker's poetical paraphraſe of Epictetus's morals; and home we went, perfectly well pleaſed with our bargains.

We that evening began with Hobbes's Homer; but found it very difficult for us to read, owing to the obſcurity of the tranſlation, which together with the different language, and want of poetical merit in the tranſlator, ſomewhat diſappointed us: however we had from time to time many a hard puzzling hour with him.

But as to Walker's Epictetus, although that had not much poetical merit, yet it was very eaſy to be read, and as eaſily ••• erſtood. The principles of the ſloics charmed me ſo much, that I made the book my companior wherever I went, and read it over and over in raptures, thinking that my mind was ſecured againſt all the ſmiles or frowns of fortune.

I now grew weary of diſſipating my time, and began to think of employing my ſpare hours in ſomething more ſatisfactory. For want of ſomething elſe to do, I went one evening to hear Mr. John Weſley preach in Broadmead, and being completely tired of the way of life that I had lived (more or leſs) ever ſince I had been out of my apprenticeſhip, and happening to have no other purſuit or hobby-horſe, there was a kind of vacuity in my mind; in this ſtate I was very ſuſceptible of any impreſſions, ſo that when I came to hear Mr. Weſley, my old fanatical notions returned full upon me, and I was once more carried away by the tide of enthuſiaſm.

My friend Mr. Jones ſoon ſaw with grief and indignation the wonderful alteration in me; who, from a gay, volatile, diſſipated young fellow, was at once metamorphoſed into a dull, moping, praying, pſalm-ſinging fanatic, continually reprehending all about me for their harmleſs mirth and gaity.

"For Sain • s themſelves will often be, "Of gifts that coſt them nothing, free." HUDIBRAS.

Nothing is more common than to ſee mankind run from one extreme to another: which was my caſe once more.

About this time we left our habitation in Queen-ſtreet and took lodgings of Mr. Jones's mother, on St. Philip's Plain, where lived a brother of Mr. Jones, who was about ſeventeen years of age. Soon after we had removed to this place, the brother, whoſe name was Richard Jones, was permitted to work in the ſame room with my friend and me. They had alſo a ſiſter about twenty years of age, who frequently joined our company.

Our room over-looked the church-yard, which contributed to increaſe my gloomy ideas; and I had ſo much of ſpiritual quixotiſm in me, that I ſoon began to think that it was not enough for me to ſave my own ſoul, but I ought in conſcience to attempt the converſion of my companions, who (I really believed) were in the high road to hell, and every moment liable to eternal damnation. Of this charitable diſpoſition are almoſt all the methodiſts; who, as Hudibras ſays.

"Compound for ſins they are in • lin'd to, "By damning thoſe they have no mind to,"

The frequency of newly-opened graves, which we ſaw from our windows, furniſhed me with opportunities for deſcanting on the uncertainty of life and all ſublunary enjoyments; I aſſured them that nothing deſerved attention but what related to our everlaſting ſtate, and that they might, on their repentance, receive in one moment the pardon of all their ſins, have a foretaſte of the joys of heaven, and know that their names were enrolled in the book of life. I farther proteſted that they had no time to loſe; that they all ſtood on the very verge of hell, and the breaking-brink of eternal torments; with a great deal more of ſuch edifying ſtuff.

The youngeſt brother ſoon became a convert; and Miſs Betſey was born again ſoon after. But I had a tight job to convert my friend John; he held out, and often curſed me heartily, and ſung profane ſongs all day long.

But about four or ſive weeks after my re-converſion. John was alſo converted, and became a favourite of heaven, ſo that we conſidered ourſelves as a holy community.

"Who knew the ſeat of Paradiſe. "Could tell in what degree it lies; "Could deepeſt myſteries unriddle, "As eaſily as thread a needle." HUDIBRAS.

A laughable affair happened during my reſidence here. A captain of a ſhip one day brought a parrot as a preſent to a family, the miſtreſs of which being a methodiſt, happened to have one of the preachers call in juſt as the dinner was putting on the table, ſo that the captain and the preacher were both aſked to ſtay. As ſoon as the table was covered, the preacher began a long grace, in the midſt of which Poll, who had been put in a corner of the room, cried out, "D—n your eyes, tip us none of your jaw". This, with the immoderate laughter of the captain, entirely diſconcerted the pious chaplain; at laſt he began his grace again, but he had not got to the end before Poll again interrupted him with "You d—d canting ſon of a b—h". By the above it appeared that the captain had tutored Poll on purpoſe to have ſome fun in this canting family; however, the good lady of the houſe made it a point of conſcience to have Polly converted, but found it utterly impoſſible to effect that great change in the methodiſtical way, that is, inſtan • anccuſly, as after ſhe had ſcolded her ſix months for ſpeaking bad words, and had actually taught her a part of the Lord's prayer, yet Poll would not entirely leave off her ſea language, ſo that it often happened while the good lady was teaching her to pray, Poll would out with, "D—n your eyes, tumble up, you lubbers"; and even after ſhe had preached to her ſeveral years, ſhe would not venture to ſay that Poll was in a ſtate of grace; but be that as it will, Poll obtained the name of Methodiſt, being called by the neighbours, the Methodiſt Parrot.

I muſt inform you alſo that the poor preacher abovementioned was but juſt come out of Wales, and underſtood Engliſh but very imperfectly, and in the courſe of his ſermon one day he had forgot the Engliſh for the word lamb, and after hammering a good while about it, he out with "Goddymighty's little Mutton, that took away the ſins of the world," which cauſed a good deal of diverſion among the ungodly.

LETTER XIV. "—He was a ſhrewd philoſopher, "And had read every text and gloſs over, "W •••• er the crabbed'll author hath, "He und •• ſtood b • implicit faith; "Whatever ••• aptle could enquire for, "For every 〈◊〉 he had a wherefore; "Know more shall forty of them do, "As far as words and terms could go, "All which he underſtood by rote, "And as occaſion ſerv'd would quote: "No matter whether light or wrong, "They might be either ſaid or ſung." HUDIBRAS. DEAR FRIEND,

MR. John Jones and myſelf were now greater friends than ever, ſo that one would on no account ſtir out of the houſe without the other.

Mr. Jones had the advantage of me in temporals, he could get more money, than I could; but as to grace, and ſpiritual giſts, I had much the advantage of all our community; ſo that I was their ſpiritual director, and if they thought that any of their acquaintance held any opinions that were not quite found and orthodox, ſuch were introduced to me, in order that I might convince them of their errors. In ſact, I was looked upon as an apoſtle, ſo that whatever I aſſerted was received as pure goſpel; nor was any thing undertaken without my advice.

We all worked very hard, particularly Mr. John Jones and me, in order to get mo • ley to purchaſe books; and for ſome months every ſhilling we could ſpare • as laid out at old book ſhops, ſ •• lls, &c. inſomuch that in a ſhort time we had what we called a very good library. This choice collection conſiſted of Polhil on precious Faith; Polhil on the Deerces; Shepherd's ſound Believer; Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progreſs; Bunyan's good news for the vileſt of Sinners; his Heavenly Footman; his Grace abounding to the chief of Sinners; his Life and Death of Mr. Badman; his Holy War in the town of Manſoul; Hervey's Meditation; Hervey's Dialogues; Rogers' Seven Holps to Heaven; Hall's Jacob's Ladder; Divine Breathings of a Devout Soul; Adams on the ſecond epiſtle of Peter; Adams Sermons on the black Devil, the white Devil, &c. &c. Collings's Divine Cordial for the Soul; Pearſe's Soul's Eſpouſal to Chriſt; Eaſkine's Goſpel Sonnets; the Dea • h of Abel; The Faith of God's Elect; Manton on the epiſtle of St. James; Pamble's works; Baxter's Shove for a heavy-arſed Chriſtian; his call to the Unconverted; Mary Magdalen's Funeral Tears; Mrs. Moore's evidences for Heaven; Mead's almoſt a Chriſtian; The Sure Guide to Heaven; Brooks on Aſſurance; God's Revenge againſt Murder; Brooks's Heaven upon Earth; The Pathway to Heaven; Wilcox's Guide to eternal Glory; Derham's Unſearchable Riches of Chriſt; his Expoſition of Revelations; Alleine's Sure Guide to Heaven; The Sincere Convert; Watſon's Heaven taken by Storm; Heaven's Vengeance; Wall's None but Chriſt; Ariſtoiles Maſterpiece; Coles on God's Sovereignty; Charnock on Providence; Young's Short and Sure Guide to Salvation; Weſley's Sormons, Journals, Tracts, &c. and others of the ſame deſcription.

We had indeed a few of a better ſort, as Gay's Fables; Pomfret's Poems; Milton's Paradiſe Loſt; beſides Hobbes's Homer, and Walker's Epictetus, mentioned in my laſt letter.

But what we wanted in judgment in chooſing our library, we made up in application; ſo anxious were we to read a great deal, that we allowed ourſelves but about three hours ſleep in twenty-four, and for ſome months together we never were all in bed at the ſame time (Sunday nights excepted). But leaſt we ſhould overſleep the time allowed, one of us ſat up to work until the time appointed for the others to riſe, and when all were up, my friend John and your humble ſervant, took it by turns to read aloud to the reſt, while they were at their work.

But this mad ſcheme of ours had nearly been attended with very ſerious conſequences. One night it being my turn to watch, I removed to the ſire ſide, to read ſome particular paſſage, and the candleſtick which we worked by not being convenient to move about, and there being no other at that time in the room, I ſet up the candle againſt the handle of a pewter pot, and was ſo extremely heavy (owing to much watchfulneſs) that I ſell faſt aſleep and had like never to have awaked again; for the candle burned down to the handle of the pot, melted it off, and then fell on the chair on which it ſtood; ſo that Mr. Jones ſound me in the morning, faſt aſleep, and part of the chair conſumed; which alarmed us all very much, and made us more cautious.

But ſtill we continued our plan of living, ſo that we made a napid progreſs in what we called ſpiritual and divine knowledge; and were ſoon maſters of the various arguments made uſe of by moſt polemical divines, &c.

And the better to g •• rd my pupils from what I called falſe do •• rines, I uſed often to engage them in various controverſies, in which I ſometimes took one ſide of the queſtion, ſometimes the other, in order, to make them well verſed in controverſy, and acquainted with the ſtrength of their adverſaries. So that I was, by turns, a Calviniſt, an Arminian, an Arien, a Socinian, a Deiſt, and even an Atheiſt. And after they had ſaid all they could to confute me, I would point out where they had failed, and added ſuch arguments as I was maſter of, and in general we were all ſatisfied. But when we happened to have any doubts, we had recourſe to the bible and commentators of our own ſide of the queſtion, and I aſſure you, my dear friend, this was a very fine hobby-horſe; which, like Aaron's ſerpent, ſwallowed up all the other hobby-horſes.

"Light minds are pleaſed with trifles." OVID.

LETTER XV. "Laugh where you muſt, be candid where you can" POPL. DEAR FRIEND,

IN the courſe • o •• my reading, I learn that there had been various ſects of philoſophers amongſt the G •• eks, Romaus, &c. and I well remembered the names of the moſt eminent of them. At an old book ſhop, I purchaſed Plato on the immortality of the ſoul, Plutarch's Morals, Seneca's Morals, Epicurus's Morals, the Morals of Confucius the Chineſe Philoſopher, and a few others. I now can ſcarce help thinking that I received more real benefit from reading and ſtudying them and Epictetus, than from all other books that I had read before, or have ever read ſince that time.

I was but about twenty-two years of age, when I firſt began to read thoſe fine moral productions; and I aſſure you, my friend, that they made a very deep and laſting impreſſion on my mind. By reading them, I was taught to bear the unavoidable evils attending humanity, and to ſupply all my wants by contracting or reſtraining my defires.

It is now twenty-three years ſince I firſt peruſed them; during which time I do not recollect that I have ever felt one anxious painſul wiſh to get money, eſtates, or any way to better my conditions 〈…〉

"Indead my friend, 〈◊〉 co • find I 〈…〉 "That wealth could e'er my real wiſhes gain; •• "Had e'er diſ ••••• d my thoug •• ful, 〈…〉 "Or coſt one ſerious moment, 〈…〉 "I ſhould have 〈…〉 "I learnd 〈…〉 "Were ver • 〈…〉

And yet I have never ſince that time let ſlip any fair opportunity of doing it. So that all I mean is, that I have not been over ſolicitous to obtain any thing I did not poſſeſs; but could at all times ſay, with St. Paul, that I have learned to be contented in all ſituations, although at times they have been very gloomy indeed. Dryden ſays, "We to ourſelves may all our wiſhes grant, "For, nothing coveting, we nothing want." DRYDEN's Indian Emperor".

And in another place he ſays,

"They cannot want who wiſh not to have more: "Who ever ſaid an anchoret was poor?" DRYDEN's Secret Love.

The pleaſures of eating and drinking I entirely deſpiſed, and for ſome time carried this diſpoſition to an extreme. The account of Epicurus living in his garden, at the expence of about a halfpenny per day, and that when he added a little cheeſe to his bread on particular occaſions, he conſidered it as a luxury, ſilled me with raptures. From that moment I began to live on bread and tea, and for a conſiderable time did not partake of any other viands, but in thoſe I indulged myſelf three or four times a day. My reaſons for living in this abſtemious manner were in order to ſave money to purchaſe books, to wean myſelf from the groſs pleaſures of eating, drinking, &c. and to purge my mind, and make it more ſuſceptible of intellectual pleaſures. And here I cannot help remarking, that the term Epicure when applied to one who makes the pleaſures of the table his chief good caſts an unjuſt reflection on Ep • curus, and conveys a wrong idea of that contemplative and very abſtemious philoſopher: for although he aſſerted that pleaſure was the chief or ſupreme good, yet he alſo as ſtrongly aſſerted, that it was the tranquility of the mind, and intellectual pleaſure, that he ſo extolled and recommended.

"Some place the bliſs in action, ſome in eaſe; "Thoſe call it pleaſure, and contemment theſe: "Some, ſunk to beaſts, find pleaſure end in pain; "Some, ſwell'd to gods, confeſs e'en virtue vain." POPE.

I continued the above ſelf-denying life until I left Briſtol, which was, on Whitſunday in 1769. I had for ſome time before been pointing out to my friend John Jones ſome of the pleaſures and advantages of travelling, ſo that I eaſily prevailed on him to accompany me towards the weſt of England; and in the evening we arrived at Bridgowater, where Mr. Jones got work • . He was employed by Mr. Caſh, with whom be continued near twelve months, and in the end married Mr. Caſh's daughter, a very pretty and very amiable little woman, with ſome fortune. When my friend was offered work by Mr. Caſh, I prevailed on him to accept of it, aſſuring him that I had no doubt of my being able to get work at Taunton: but in that I was diſappointed, nor could I get a conſtant ſeat of work until I came to Exeter, and of that place I was ſoon tired; but being informed that a Mr. John Taylor of Kingſbridge (forty miles below Exeter) wanted ſuch a hand, I went down, and was gladly received by Mr. Taylor, whoſe name inſpires me with gratitude, as he never treated me as a journeyman, but made me his companion: Nor was any part of my time ever ſpent in a more agreeable pleaſing manner than that which I paſſed in this retired place, or I believe more profitable to a maſter. I was the firſt man he ever had that was able to make ſtuff and ſilk ſhoes, and it being alſo known that I came from Briſtol, this had great weight with the country ladies, and procured my maſter cuſtomers, who generally ſent for me to take meaſure of their ſeet, and I was looked upon by all to be the beſt workman in the town, although I had not been brought up to ſtuff work, nor had ever entirely made one ſtuff or ſilk ſhoe before. Nor ſhould I have preſumed to proclaim myſelf a ſtuff-man, had there been any ſuch workmen in the place; but as there were none, I boldly ventured, and ſucceeded very well; nor did any one in the town ever know that it was my firſt attempt in that branch.

During the time that I lived here, I as uſual was obliged to employ one or another of my acquaintance to write my letters for me; this procured me much praiſe among the young men as a good editor of letters; (I need not inform you that they were not good judges). My maſter ſaid to me one day, he was ſurpriſed that I did not learn to write my own letters; and added, that he was ſure that I could learn to do it in a very ſhort time. The thought pleaſed me much, and without any delay I ſet about it, by taking up any pieces of paper that had writing on them, and imitating the letters as well as I could. I employed my leiſure hours in this way for near two months, after which time I wrote my own letters, in a bad hand you may be ſure; but it was plain and eaſy to read, which was all I cared for: nor to the preſent moment can I write much better, as I never would have any perſon to teach me, nor was I ever poſſeſſed of patience enough to employ time ſufficient to learn to write well; and yet as ſoon as I was able to ſubſcribe, I wrote verſes on ſome triſle or other every day for years together.

But I always wrote as faſt as I could, without endeavouring to write well, and that this is my preſent practice I need not inform you.

I came to this place in but a weak ſtate of body, however the healthy ſituation of the town, together with bathing in the ſalt water, ſoon reſtored me to perfect health. I paſſed thirteen months here in a very happy manner: but the wages for work being very low, and as I had ſpent much time in writing hymns to every ſong tune that I knew, beſides a number of love verſes, letters, &c. I was very poor; and to complete all, I began to keep a deal of company, in which I gave a looſe to my natural galety of diſpoſition, much more than was conſiſtent with the grave, ſedate ideas which I had ſormed of a religious character; all which made me reſolve to leave Kingſbridge, which I did in 1770.

I 〈…〉 as for as Exeter the firſt day, where I wo •• ed about a fortnight, and ſayed ſufficient to carry me to Bridgewater, where I worked two or three weeks more. Before I arrived there Mr. John Jones had gone back to reſide at Briſtol, but as ſoon as he heard of my being in Bridgewater, he and his brother Richard ſent me an invitation to come to Briſtol again and live with them. Finding that I did not immediately comply, they both came to Bridgewater, and declared their intentions of not returning to Briſtol without me; ſo that after a day or two I yielded to their ſolicitations, and again lived very comfortably with them, their mother and ſiſter.

I think it was about this period, that I went ſeveral times to the tabernacle, and heard Mr. George Whitefield; and of all the preachers that ever I attended, never did I meet with one that had ſuch a perfect command over the paſſions of his audience. In every ſermon that I heard him preach, he would ſometimes make them ready to burſt with laughter, and the next moment drown them in tears; indeed it was ſcarce poſſible for the moſt guarded to eſcape the effect.

"He had ſomething 'twas thought ſtill more horrid to ſay. "When his tongue loſt its powers and he ſainted away; "Some ſay 'twas his conſcience that gave him a ſtroke, "But thoſe who beſt knew him treats that and joke; "'Tis a trick which ſtage orators uſe in their need, "The paſſions to raiſe and the judgment miſlead." SIMKIN.

In one of my excurſions I paſſed many agreeable hours with the late Mr. La Bute, at Cambridge, who was well known, he having taught French in that univerſity upwards of forty years. He informed me that near forty years ſince, Mr. Whitefield having advertiſed himſelf to preach at Gog-Magog hill, many thouſand people collected together from many miles round. While he was preaching he was clevated on the higheſt ground, and his audience ſtood all round on the declivity; during his ſermon, a young country-woman, who had come ſome miles to hear him, and waited ſeveral hours, being very faint, owing to the violent heat of the ſun, the breaths of the multitude, as well as the want of refreſhment; and it is very likely much agitated in her mind by the extraordinary doctrines of the preacher, ſhe fell backwards, juſt under the orator, and there lay kicking up her heels. On ſeeing the poor girl lie in a kind of convulſion, ſome of the company moved to aſſiſt her, and the women began to draw down her apron and petticoats over her ſeet; but Mr. Whitefield cried out, "Let her alone! let her alone! A glorious ſight! a glorious ſight!" No doubt the holy man meant that it was a glorious ſight to ſee a ſinner fall before the power of the word; but the young college bucks and wits conſtrued his meaning differently, and put the audience into ſuch immoderate ſits of laughter, that even Mr. Whitfield's utmoſt efforts were not able to reſtore their gravity, but he was obliged to diſmiſs his congregation abruptly.

For a long time after this happened, the Cantabs as they reeled homewards in the night time, diſturbed the ſober inhabitants, by loudly exclaiming, "A glorious ſight! A glorious ſight! as Doctor Squintum ſays."

LETTER XVI. "Love, the moſt generous paſſion of the mind, "The ſofteſt refuge innocence can find: "The ſafe director of unguided youth, "Fraught with kind wiſhes, and ſecur'd by truth, "The cordial drop heav'n in our cup has thrown, "To make the nauſeous draught of life go down; "On which one only bleſſing God might raiſe, "In lands of atheiſts ſubſidies of praiſe; "For none did e'er ſo dull and ſtupid prove, "But felt a God, and bleſs'd his pow'r in love," Nonpareil. DEAR FRIEND,

I MUST now requeſt you to go back with me a ſew years, as I have not yet made you acquainted with my principal amours. I was about ſeventeen years of age when an adventure diſcovered, that although I was ſo very ſpiritual, as I before informed you, I was notwithſtanding ſuſceptible of another kind of impreſſion.

"Oh, let me ſtill enjoy the cheerful day, "Till many years unheeded o'er me roll. "Pleas'd in my age I trifle life away, "And tell how much I lov'd ere I grew old," HAMMOND's Love Elegies.

Being at farmer Gamlin's, at Charlton, four miles from Taunton, to hear a methodiſt ſermon, I fell deſperately in love with the farmer's handſome dairy-maid.

"Her home-ſpun dreſs in ſimple neatneſs lies, "And for no glaring equipage ſhe ſighs. "She gratefully receives what heav'n has ſent, "And, rich in poverty, enjoys content, "Her reputation which is all her boaſt, "In a malicious viſit ne'er was loſt. "No midnight maſquerade her beauty wears, "And health, not paint, the fading bloom repairs. "If love's ſoft paſſions in her boſom reign, "An equal paſſion warms her happy ſwain." GAY.

At that time I abounded 〈◊〉 ſpiritual gifts, which induced this honeſt ru ••• maid to be very kind to me, and to walk ſeveral fields with me in my road back to Taunton, talking all the way of her ſpiritual diſtreſs and godly concerns; while I poured heavenly comfort into her ſoul, and talked ſo long of divine love, until I found that my affection for her was not altogether of that ſpiritual nature. And yet, "We lov'd without tranſgreſſing virtue's bounds: "We fix'd the limits of our tendereſt thoughts, "Came to the verge of honour, and there ſlopp'd; "We warm'd us by the fire, but were not ſcorch'd, "If this be ſin, Angels might live with more; "And mingle rays of minds leſs pure than ours." DRYDEN's Love Triumphant.

After this you may be ſure that I did not let ſlip any opportunity of hearing ſermons at farmer Gamlin's; and I generally prevailed with Nancy Smith; my charming ſpiritual dairy-maid, to accompany me part of the way home, and at every gate I accompanied my ſpiritual advice with a kiſs.

—"Oh then the longeſt ſummer's day "Seem'd too too much in haſte; ſtill the full heart "Had not imparted half: 'twas happineſs "Too exquiſite to laſt. Of joys departed "Never to return, how painful the remembrance! BLAIR's Grave.

But alas! theſe comfortable Sunday walks were ſoon at an end; as my charming Nancy Smith for ſome reaſon or other (I have forgot what) left her place, and went to live as dairy-maid with a farmer in the marſh country, between Bridgewater and Briſtol, ſeventeen miles from Taunton; ſo that I did not ſee her for near two years afterwards, during which time I gave ſpiritual advice to another holy ſiſter, whoſe name was Hannah Allen.

I prevailed on this lovely maid to attend the methodiſt preaching at five o'clock on Monday mornings, and we often met at three or four; ſo that we had an hour or two to ſpend in walking and converſation on ſpiritual affairs. Had you ſeen and heard us on the cold froſty mornings, it would have put you in mind of Milton's Devils, whom he repreſents as at times ſtarving with cold: "Others apart, ſat on a hill, retir'd, "In thoughts more elevate, and reaſon'd high "Of Providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate; "Fix'd fate, free-will, foreknowledge abſolute; "And found no end in wandering mazes loſt." Paradiſe Loſt.

But I aſſure you, my friend, that we were ſometimes like the Galatians of old; we began in the ſpirit, and ended in the fleſh.

With this dear girl I ſpent all my leiſure time, for two or three years; ſo that we enjoyed together hundreds of happy and I can truly add, innocent hours.

"O days of bliſs! 〈…〉 "To equal this 〈…〉 "Olympus ſtrives in vain 〈…〉 "O happy pair, 〈…〉 "O happy fair! 〈…〉 "O happy, happy ſwain!" JOANNES SECUNDUS.

But ſtill I never could entirely forget my charming innocent dairy-maid. In fact I had love enough for both, to have taken either for better for worſe; but my being an apprentice, prevented me from marrying at that time.

It is true I had the greateſt love for Nancy Smith; but Hannah Allen had the advantage of Nancy, as I could ſee Hannah almoſt every day, and Nancy only once or twice in about three years. However I at laſt fell out with Hannah (on what occaſion I cannot recollect) and I ſent Nancy a letter, which made up matters with her; for, like Sterne, I was "always in love with one goddeſs or other;" and ſoon after that, ſhe came to live for a little time at her father's houſe at Petherton near Bridgewater, ſeven miles from Taunton. This happened during the election at Taunton, when I was changed from a ſtrict methodiſt to a rake; and although the wedding ring was purchaſed, and we were to have been married in a few days, yet the marriage was put off on account of my diſſipated character, ſo that I ſoon after ſet off for Briſtol, as I before informed you: nor did I ſee her after that, until my return from Kingſbridge, when I ſaw her ſeveral times prior to my ſetting off for Briſtol with my friend John Jones, and his brother Richard.

LETTER XVII. "The man who by his labour gets "His bread in independent ſtate, "Who never begs, and ſeldom eats, "Himſelt can fix, or change his fate." PRIOR. "If you will uſe the little that you have, "More has not heaven to give, or you to crave: "Ceaſe to complain. He never can be poor "Who has ſufficient, and who wants no more. "If but from cold, and pining hunger free, "The richeſt monarch can but equal thee. HORACE Imitated. DEAR FRIEND,

I HAD not long reſided a ſecond time with my good Briſtol friends, before I • enewed my correſpondence with my old ſweetheart Nancy Smith. I informed her that my attachment to books together with travelling from place to place, and alſo my total diſregard for money, had prevented me from ſaving any; and that while I remained in a ſingle unſettled ſtate, I was never likely to accumulate it. I alſo preſſed her very much to come to Briſtol to be married, which ſhe ſoon complied with: and married we were, at St. Peter's church, towards the end of the year 1770; near ſeven years after my firſt making love to her.

"When join'd in hand and heart, to church we went, "Mutual in vows, and pris'ners by conſent, "My Nancy's heart beat high, with mix'dalarms, "But trembling beauty glow'd with double charms "In her ſoft breaſt a modeſt ſtruggle roſe, "How ſhe ſhould ſeem to like the lot ſhe choſe: "A ſmile, ſhe thought would dreſs her looks too gay: "A frown might ſeem too ſad, and blaſt the day. "But while nor this, nor that, her will could bow, "She walk'd, and look'd, and charm'd, and knew not how, "Our hands at length th' unchanging Fiat bound, "And our glad ſouls ſprung out to meet the ſound. "Joys meeting joys unite, and ſtronger ſhine: "For paſſion purified is half divine: "Now Nancy thou art mine, I cry'd—and ſhe "Sigh'd ſoft—now Jemmy thou art Lord of me! A. HILL.

We kept our wedding at the houſe of my friends the Meſſrs. Jones's, and at bed-time retired to ready-furniſhed lodgings, which we had before provided, at half-a-crown per week. Our finances were but juſt ſufficient to pay the expences of the day, for the next morning in ſearching our pockets (which we did not do in a careleſs manner) we diſcovered that we had but one halfpenny to begin the world with. It is true we had laid in eatables ſufficient for a day or two, in which time we knew we could by our work procure more, which we very cheerfully ſet about, ſinging together the following ſtrains of Dr. Cotton: "Our portion is not large indeed. "But their how little do we need? "For nature's calls are few; "In this the art of living lies, "To want no more than may ſuffice, "And make that little do."

The above, and the following ode by Mr. Fitzgeral, did we ſcores of times repeat even with raptures!

"No glory I covet, no riches I want, "Ambition is nothing to me: "The one thing I beg of kind heaven to grant "Is, a mind independent and free. "By paſſion unruffled, untainted by pride, "By reaſon my life let me ſquare; "The wants of my nature are cheaply ſupplied, "And the reſt are but folly and care. "Thoſe bleſſings which providence kindly has lent "I'll juſtly and gratefully prize; "While ſweet meditation and cheerful content, "Shall make me both healthy and wife. "In the pleaſures the great man's poſſeſſions diſplay, "Unenvy'd I'll challenge my part; "For every fair object my eyes can ſurvey, "Contributes to gladden my heart. "How vainly thro' inſinite trouble and ſtrife, "The many their labours employ; "When all that is truly delightful in life, "Is what all, if they will, may enjoy,"

After having worked on ſtuff work in the country, I could not bear the idea of returning to the leather branch; ſo that I attempted and obtained a ſeat of ſtuff in Briſtol. But better work being required there than in Kingſbridge, &c. I was obliged to take ſo much care to pleaſe my maſter, that at firſt I could not get more than nine ſhillings a week, and my wife could get but very little, as ſhe was learning to bind ſtuff ſhoes, and had never been much uſed to her needle; ſo that what with the expence of ready furniſhed lodging, fire, candles, &c. we had but little left for purchaſing proviſions.

To increaſe our ſtraits, my old friend being ſomewhat diſpleaſed at our leaving him and his relations, took an early opportunity to tell me that I was indebted to him near forty ſhillings, of two years ſtanding. I was not convinced of the juſtice of the claim, but to avoid diſpute, I paid him in about two months, during nearly the whole of which time it was extremely ſevere weather, and yet we made four ſhillings and ſixpence per week pay for the whole of what we conſumed in eating and drinking. Strong beer we had none, nor any other liquor (the pure element excepted) and inſtead of tea, or rather coffee, we toaſted a piece of bread; at other times we fried ſome wheat, which when boiled in water made a tolerable ſubſtitute for coffee; and as to animal food, we made uſe of but little, and that little we boiled and made broth of.

During the whole of this time we never once wiſhed for any thing that we had not got, but were quite contented, and wiſh a good grace, in reality made a virtue of neceſſity. We "Trembled not with vain deſires, "Few the things which life requires." FRANCIS's Horace. And the ſubject of our prayer was "This day be bread and peace our lot, "All elſe beneath the ſun, "Thou know'ſt if beſt beſtow'd or not, "And let thy will be done.

LETTER XVIII. "This ſame Monſieur Poverty is a bitter enemy. JOHN DORY. "In adverſe hours an equal mind maintain." FRANCIS's Horace. DEAR FRIEND,

IN a few days after we had paid the laſt five ſhillings of the debt claimed by my friend Mr. Jones, we were both together taken ſo ill as to be confined to our bed, but the good woman of the houſe, our landlady, came to our room and did a ſew trifles for us. She ſeemed very much alarmed at our ſituation, or rather for her own, I ſuppoſe, as thinking we might in ſome meaſure become burthenſome to her. We had in caſh two ſhillings and ninepence, half a crown of which we had carefully locked up in a box, to be ſaved for a reſource on any extraordinary emergence. This money ſupported us two or three days, in which time I recovered without the help of medicine; but my wife continued ill near ſix months, and was confined to her bed the greateſt part of her time; which illneſs may very eaſily be accounted for.

Before ſhe came to Briſtol, ſhe had ever been uſed to a very active life, and had always lived in the country, ſo that in coming to dwell in a populous city, ſhe had exchanged much exerciſe and good air for a ſedentary life and very bad air; and this I preſume was the cauſe of all her illneſs from time to time, which at length, as unfortunately as effectually undermined • er conſtitution. During her firſt ſix months illneſs I lived many days ſolely on water gruel; for as I could not afford to pay a nurſe, much of my time was taken up in attendance on her, and moſt of my money expended in procuring medicines, together with ſuch trifles as ſhe could eat and drink. But what added extremely to my calamity was the being within the hearing of her groans, which were cauſed by the excruc • ating pains in her head, which for months together defied the power of medicine.

It is impoſſible for words to deſcribe the keenneſs of my ſenſations during this long term; yet as to myſelf, my poverty and being obliged to live upon water-gruel gave me not the leaſt uneaſineſs.

"In ruſſling ſeaſons I was calm, "And ſail'd when for •• ne frown'd." YOUNG.

But the neceſſity of being continually in the ſight and hearing of a beloved object, a young, charming, handſome, innocent wife, "Who ſick in bed lay gaſping for her breath; "Her eyes, like dying lamps ſunk in their ſockets, "Now glar'd, and now drew back their feeble light: "Faintly her ſpeech fell from her fault'ring tongue "In interrupted accents, as ſhe ſtrove "With ſtrong agonies that ſhook her limbs "And wr •• h'd her tortur'd features into forms "Hideous to ſight." BELLER's Injur'd Innocence.

How I ſupported this long dreary ſcene, I know not; the bare recollection of which is exceedingly painful, even at this diſtance of time. At laſt, when every thing that ſeemed to promiſe relief had been ried in vain, ſome old woman recommended Cephalic ſnuff. I own I had not much faith in it; however I procured it, and in a ſhort time after ſhe was much relieved from the intolerable pain in her head, but yet continued in a very bad ſtate of health; her conſtitution having ſuffered ſuch a dreadful ſhock, I thought that no means could be uſed ſo likely to reſtore it, as a removal to her native air. Accordingly I left my ſeat of work at Briſtol, and returned with her to Taunton, which is about ſeven miles from Petherton, her native place. But in Taunton I could not procure ſo much work as I could do; ſo that as ſoon at I thought ſhe could bear the air of Briſtol, we returned thither, where ſhe ſoon relapſed, and we again went back to Taunton. This removing to Taunton was repeated about five times in little more than two years and a half.

But at laſt, finding that ſhe had long fits of illneſs at Taunton alſo, as well as at Briſtol, with a view of having a better price for my work I reſolved to viſit London; and as I had not money ſufficient to hear the expences of both to town, I left her all the money I could ſpare, and took a place on the outſide of the ſtage coach, and the ſecond day arrived in the metropolis, in Auguſt 1773, with two ſhillings and ſixpence in my pocket; and recollecting the addreſs of an old townſman, who was alſo a ſpiritual brother.

"Whoſe hair in greaſy locks hung down, "As ſtrait as candles from his crown, "To ſhade the borders of his face, "Whoſe outward ſigns of inward grace "Were only viſible in ſpiteful "Grimaces, very ſtern and frightful." BUTLER's Poſth. Works.

This holy brother was alſo a journeyman ſhoe maker, who had arrived at the ſummit of his expectations, being able to keep a houſe over his head (as he choſe to expreſs himſelf) that is by letting nearly the whole of it out in lodgings, he was enabled to pay the rent. This houſe was in White-croſsſtreet, which I found out the morning after my arrival, where I procured a lodging, and Mr. Heath, in Fore-ſtreet, ſupplied me with plenty of work.

I laugh'd then and whiſtl'd, and ſung too moſt ſweet, Saying, juſt to a hair I've made both ends to meet. Derry-down.

LETTER XIX. "I'll travel no more—I'll try a London audience; "Who knows but I may get an engagement." Wild Oats. "When ſuperſtition (bane of manly virtues!) "Strikes root within the ſoul; it over-runs "And kills the power of Reaſon." PHILIPS of Glouceſter. DEAR FRIEND,

AT this time I was as viſionary and ſuperſtitious as ever I had been at any preceding period, for although I had read ſome ſenſible books, and had thereby acquired a few rational ideas, yet having had a methodiſtical wife for near three years, and my keeping methodiſtical company, together with the gloomy notions which in ſpite of reaſon and philoſophy I had imbibed during the frequent, long, and indeed almoſt conſtant illneſs of my wife, the conſequence was, that thoſe few rational or liberal ideas which I had before treaſured up, were at my coming to London in a dormant ſtate, or borne down by the torrent of enthuſiaſtic whims, and fanatical chimeras.

"—Oh! what a reaſonleſs machine "Can ſuperſtition make the reas'ner man!" MILLER'S Mahomet.

So that I ſoon procured a lodging and work, my next enquiry was for Mr. Weſley's Goſpel-ſhops: and on producing my claſs and band tickets from Taunton, I was put into a claſs, and a week or two after admitted into a band.

But it was ſeveral weeks before I could firmly reſolve to continue in London; as I really was ſtruck with horror for the fate of it; more particularly on Sundays, as I found ſo few went to church, and ſo many were walking and riding about for pleaſure, and the lower claſs getting drunk, quarrelling, fighting, working, buying, ſelling, &c. I had ſeen ſo much of the ſame kind in Briſtol that I often wondered how God permitted it to ſtand; but London I found infinitely worſe, and ſeriouſly trembled for fear the meaſure of iniquity was quite full, and that every hour would be its laſt. However I at length concluded, that if London was a ſecond Sodom, I was a ſecond Lot; and theſe comfortable ideas reconciled me to the thought of living in it. Beſides, ſome of Mr. Weſley's people gave me great comfort by aſſuring me, that "the Lord had much people in this city:" which I ſoon diſcovered to be true, as I got acquainted with many of thoſe righteous choſen ſaints, who modeſtly arrogate to themſelves that they are the peculiar favourites of heaven, and conſequently that any place they reſide in muſt be ſafe.

In a month I ſaved money ſufficient to bring up my wife, and ſhe had a pretty tolerable ſtate of health; of my maſter I obtained ſome ſtuff-ſhoes for her to bind and nearly as much as ſhe could do. Having now plenty of work and higher wages, we were tolerably eaſy in our circumſtances, more ſo than we ever bad been, ſo that we ſoon procured a few clothes. My wife had all her life before done very well with a ſuperfine broad cloth cloak, but now I prevailed on her to have one of ſilk.

Until this winter I had never found out that I wanted a great coat, but now I made that important diſcovery; and my landlord ſhewed me one made of a coarſe kind of Bath coating, which he purchaſed new at a ſhop in Roſemary-lane for ten ſhillings and ſix pence; ſo that the next half guinea I had to ſpare, away I went to Roſemary-lane (and to my great ſurpriſe) was hauled into a ſhop by a fellow who was walking up and down before the door of a ſlopſeller, where I was ſoon fitted with a great coat of the ſame fort as that of my landlord. I aſked the price; but how great was my aſtoniſhment, when the honeſt ſlop-man told me, that he was ſo taken with my clean, honeſt, induſtrious looks, that he would let me have it cheaper than he would his own brother, ſo in one word he would oblige me with it for five and twenty ſhillings, which was the very money that it coſt him. On hearing this I croſſed the ſhop in a trice, in order to ſet off home again, but the door had a ſaſtening to it beyond by comprehenſion, nor would the good man let me out before I had made him an offer. I told him I had ſo little money about me that I could not offer any thing, and again deſired that he would let me out. But he perſiſted and at laſt I told him that my landlord had informed me that he had purchaſed ſuch another coat for ten ſhillings and ſix pence; on which he began to give himſelf airs, and aſſured me that however ſome people came by their goods, that for his part, he always paid for his. I heartily wiſhed myſelf out of the ſhop, but in vain; as he ſeemed determined not to part with me until I had made ſome offer. I then told him that I had but ten ſhillings and ſix pence, and of courſe could not offer him any more than I had got. I now expected more abuſe from him, but inſtead of that the patient good man told me, that as he perhaps might get ſomething by me another time, I ſhould have the coat for my half guinea, although it was worth more than double the money.

About the end of November I received an account of the death of my grandfather; and was alſo informed that he had left a will in favour of my grandmother-in-law's relations, who became poſſeſſed of all his effects, except a ſmall freehold eſtate, which he left to my youngeſt brother, becauſe he happened to be called George (which was the name of my grandfather) and ten pounds a piece to each of his other grand-children.

So totally unacquainted was I with the modes of tranſacting buſineſs, that I could not point out any method of having my ten pounds ſent up to London, at leaſt no mode that the executor of the will would approve of; it being ſuch-a prodigious ſum, that the greateſt caution was uſed on both ſides, ſo that it coſt me about half the money in going down for it, and in returning to town again. This was in extremely hard froſty weather (I think ſome time in December) and being on the outſide of a ſtage-coach, I was ſo very cold, that when I came to the inn where the paſſengers dined, I went directly to the fire, which ſtruck the cold inward, ſo that I had but a very narrow eſcape from death. This happened in going down. In returning back to town I had other misfortunes to encounter. The cold weather ſtill coutinuing, I thought the baſket warmer than the roof, and about ſix miles from Saliſbury, I went back into the baſket. But on getting out of it, in the inn yard at Saliſbury, I heard ſome money jingle, and on ſearching my pockets, I diſcovered that I had loſt abou • ſixteen ſhillings, two or three of which I found in the baſket, the reſt had fallen through on the road; and no doubt the whole of what I had left of my ten pounds would have gone the ſame way, had I not (for fear of highwaymen) ſewed it up in my clothes. The loſs of my ſilver I bore with the temper of a ſtoic, and like Fpictetus reaſoned, that I could not have loſt it, if I had not firſt had it; and that as I had loſt it, why it was all the ſame as though it had never been in my poſſeſſion.

But a more dreadful misfortune befel me the next morning; the extreme ſevere weather ſtill continuing, in order to keep me from dying with cold, I drank ſome purl and gin, which (not being uſed to drink any thing ſtrong) made me ſo drunk, that the conchman put me inſide the carriage for fear I ſhould ſall off the roof. I there met with ſome of the jovial ſort, who had alſo drank to keep out the cold, ſo that I ſound them in high glee; being aſked to ſing them a ſong, I immediately complied, and forgetting that I was one of the holy brethren, I ſung ſong for ſong with the merrieſt of them; only ſeveral times between the acts, I turned up the whites of my eyes, and uttered a few ejaculations, as "Lord forgive me!" "O Chriſt! What am I doing?" and a few more of the ſame pious ſort. However after eating a good dinner, and refraining from liquor, I became nearly ſober, and by the time I arrived in town quite ſo; though in a terrible agitation of mind, by reflecting on what I had done, and was ſo aſhamed of the affair, that I concealed it from my wife, that I might not grieve her righteous ſoul with the knowledge of ſo dreadful a fall: ſo that ſhe with great pleaſure ripped open the places in my clothes, which contained my treaſure, and with an heart full of gratitude, piouſly thanked providence for affording us ſuch a ſupply, and hoped that the Lord would enable us to make a good uſe of it.

LETTER XX. "Now ſince thro' all the race of man we find "Each to ſome darling paſſion is inclin'd, "Let books be ſtill the bias of my mind," Anonym. "Fixt in an elbow chair at eaſe, "I chooſe companions as I pleaſe." SWIFT. DEAR FRIEND,

WITH the remainder of the money we purchaſed houſe hold goods, but as we then had not ſufficient to furniſh a room, we worked hard, and lived ſtill harder, ſo that in a ſhort time we had a room furniſhed with our own goods; and I believe that it is not poſſible for you to imagine with what pleaſure and ſatisfaction we looked round the room and ſurveyed our property: I believe that Alexander the Great never reflected on his immenſe acquiſitions with half the heart-felt enjoyment which we experienced on this capital attainment.

After our room was furniſhed, as we ſtill enjoyed a better ſtate of health than we did at Briſtol and Taunton, and had alſo more work and higher wages, we often added ſomething or other to our ſtock of wearing apparel. Nor did I forget the old-book ſhops: but frequently added an old book to my ſmall collection, and I really have often purchaſed books with the money that ſhould have been expended in purchaſing ſomething to eat; a ſtriking inſtance of which follows: At the time we were purchaſing houſhold goods, we kept ourſelves very ſhort of money, and on Chriſtmas-eve we had but half a crown left to buy a Chriſtmas dinner. My wife deſired that I would go to market, and purchaſe this feſtival dinner, and off I ſet for that purpoſe; but in the way I ſaw an old-book ſhop, and I could not reſiſt the temptation of going in; intending only to expend ſixpence or ninepence out of my half-crown. But I ſtumbled upon Young's Night Thoughts—down went my half-crown —and I haſtened home, vaſtly delighted with the acquiſition. When my wiſe aſked me where was our Chriſtmas dinner? I told her it was in my pocket.—"In your pocket (ſaid ſhe) that is a ſtrange place. How could you think of ſtuffing a joint of meat into your pocket?" I aſſured her that it would take no harm. But as I was in no haſte to take it out, ſhe began to be more particular, and enquired what I had got, &c. On which I began to harrangue on the ſuperiority of intellectual pleaſures over ſenſual gratifications, and obſerved that the brute creation enjoyed the latter in a much higher degree than man. And that a man, that was not poſſeſſed of intellectual enjoyments was but a two-legged brute.

I was proceeding in this ſtrain: "And ſo (ſaid ſhe) inſtead of buying a dinner, I ſuppoſe you have, as you have done before, been buying books with the money?" I then confeſſed I had bought Young's Night Thoughts: "And I think (ſaid I) that I have acted wiſely; for had I bought a dinner, we ſhould have eaten it to-morrow, and the pleaſure would have been ſoon over, but ſhould we live fifty years longer, we ſhall have the Night Thoughts to feaſt upon." This was too powerful an argument to admit of any further debate; in ſhort, my wife was convinced. Down I ſat, and began to read with as much enthuſiaſm as the good doctor poſſeſſed when he wrote it; and ſo much did it excite my attention as well as approbation, that I retained the greateſt part of it in my memory. A couplet of Perſius, as Engliſhed, might have been applied to me: "—For this you gain thoſe meagre looks, "And ſacrifice your dinner to your books."

Some time in June 1774, as we ſat at work in our room, Mr. Boyd, one of Mr. Weſley's people, called and informed me that a little ſhop and parlour were to be let in Featherſtone-ſtreet; adding, that if I was to take it, I might there get ſome work as a maſter. I without heſitation told him that I liked the idea, and hinted that I would ſell books alſo. Mr. Boyd then aſked me how I came to think of ſelling books? I informed him that until that moment it had never once entered into my thoughts; but that when he propoſed my taking the ſhop, it inſtantaneouſly occurred to my mind, that for ſeveral months paſt I had obſerved a great increaſe in a certain old book ſhop; and that I was perſuaded I knew as much of old books as the perſon who kept it. I farther obſerved, that I loved books, and that if I could but be a bookſeller, I ſhould then have plenty of books to read, which was the greateſt motive I could conceive to induce me to make the attempt. My friend on this aſſured me, that he would get the ſhop for me, and with a laugh added, "when you are Lord Mayor, you ſhall uſe all your intereſt to get me made an Alderman." Which I engaged not to forget to perform.

My private library at this time conſiſted of Fletcher's Checks to Antinomianiſm, &c. 5 volumes; Watt's Improvement of the Mind; Young's Night Thoughts; Wake's Tranſlation of the Apoſtolical Epiſtles; Fleetwook's Life of Chriſt; the firſt twenty numbers of Hinton's Dictionary of the Arts and Sciences; ſome of Weſley's Journals, and ſome of the pious lives publiſhed by him; and about a dozen other volumes of the latter ſort, beſides odd magazines, &c. And to ſet me up in ſtile, Mr. Boyd recommended me to the friends of an holy brother lately gone to heaven, and of them I purchaſed a bagful of old books, chiefly divinity, for a guinea.

With this ſtock, and ſome odd ſcraps of leather, which together with all my books were worth about five pounds, I opened ſhop on midſummer-day, 1774, in Featherſtone-ſtreet, in the pariſh of St. Luke; and I was as well pleaſed in ſurveying my little ſhop with my name over it, as was Nebuchadnezzar, when he ſaid "Is not this great Babylon that I have built?" and my good wife often perceiving the pleaſure that I took in my ſhop, piouſly cautioned me againſt ſetting my mind on the riches of this world, and aſſured me that it was all but vanity. "You are very right, my dear (I ſometimes r • plied) and to keep our minds as ſpiritual as we can, we will always attend our claſs and band meetings, hear as many ſermons, &c. at the Foundery on week days as poſſible, and on ſabbath days we will mind nothing but the good of our ſouls: our ſmall beer ſhall be fetched in on Saturday nights, nor will we dreſs even a potatoe on the ſabbath. We will ſtill attend the preaching at five o'clock in the morning; at eight go to the prayer meeting; at ten to the public worſhip at the Foundery; hear Mr. Perry at Gripplegate, at two; be at the preaching at the Foundery at five; meet with the general ſociety at ſix; meet in the united bands at ſeven, and again be at the prayer meeting at eight; and then come home to read and pray by ourſelves."

LETTER XXI. "—Strange viciſſitudes of human fate; "Still alt'ring, never in a ſteady ſtate; "Good after ill, and after pain delight; "Alternate, like the ſcenes of day and night. "Since every one who lives, is born to die, "And none can boaſt in • ire felicity: "With equal mind what happens let us bear, "Nor joy, nor grieve too much for things beyond our care. "Like pilgrims, to the appointed place we tend: "The world's an inn, and death's the journey's end." DRYDEN's Palemen and Arcite. DEAR FRIEND,

NOtwithſtanding the obſcurity of the ſtreet, and the mean appearance of my ſhop, yet I ſoon found cuſtomers for what few books I had, and I as ſoon laid out the money in other old traſh which was daily brought for ſale.

At that time Mr. Weſley's people had a ſum of money which was kept on purpoſe to lend out, for three months, without intereſt to ſuch of their ſociety whoſe characters were good, and who wanted a temporary relief. To increaſe my little ſtock, I borrowed five pounds out of this fund, which was of great ſervice to me.

In our new ſituation we lived in a very frugal manner, often dining on potatoes, and quenching our thirſt with water, being abſolutely determined if poſſible to make ſome proviſion for ſuch diſmal times as ſickneſs, ſhortneſs of work, &c. which we had been ſo frequently involved in before, and could ſcarce help expecting to be our fate again. My wife ſoreboded it much more than I did, being of a more melancholy turn of mind.

"A ſad prophetic ſpirit dwells with woe."

I lived in this ſtreet ſix months, and in that time increaſed my ſtock from five pounds, to twenty-five pounds.

"London—the public there are candid and generous, and before my merit can have time to create me enemies, I'll ſave money, and a fig for the Sultan and Sophy."

ROVER.

This immenſe ſtock I deemed too valuable to be buried in Featherſtone-ſtreet; and a ſhop and parlour being to let in Chiſwell-ſtreet, No. 46, I took them. This was at that time, and for fourteen years afterwards a very dull and obſcure ſituation: as few ever paſſed through it, beſides Spitalfield weavers on hanging days, and methodiſts on preaching nights; but ſtill it was much better adapted for buſineſs than Featherſtone-ſtreet.

A few weeks after I came into Chilwell-ſtreet, I bade a final adieu to the gentle craſt, and converted my little ſtock of leather, &c. into old books; and a great ſale I had, conſidering my ſtock; which was not only extremely ſmall, but contained very little variety, as it principally conſiſted of divinity; for as I had not much knowledge, ſo I ſeldom ventured out of my depth. Indeed there was one claſs of books, which for the firſt year or two that I called myſelf a bookſeller, I would not ſell, for ſuch was my ignorance, bigotry, ſuperſtition (or what you pleaſe) that I conſcientiouſly deſtroyed ſuch books as fell into my hands which were written by freethinkers; for really ſuppoſing them to be dictated by the devil, I would neither read them myſelf, nor ſell them to others.

I went on proſperouſly until ſome time in September, 1775, when I was ſuddenly taken ill of a dreadful fever; and eight or ten days after, my wife was ſeized with the ſame diſorder.

At that time I only kept a boy to help in my ſhop, ſo that I ſear, while I lay ill, my wife had too much care and anxiety on her mind. I have been told that before ſhe was confined to her bed ſhe walked about in a delirious ſtate; in which ſhe did not long continue, but contrary to all expectation died, in enthuſiaſtic rant, on the ninth of November, ſurrounded with ſeveral methodiſtical preachers.

"Invidious death! how doſt thou rend in ſunder "Whom love has knit and ſympathy made one? "A tie ſo ſtubborn."— BLAIR'S Grave.

She was in reality one of the beſt of women; and although for about four years ſhe was ill the greateſt part of the time, which involved me in the very depth of poverty and diſtreſs, yet I never once repented having married her.

"—ſtill buſy meddling memory, "In barbarous ſucceſſion, muſters up "The paſt endearments of our ſo • ter hours, "Tenacious of his theme." BLAIR'S Grave.

'Tis true ſhe was enthuſiaſtical to an extreme, and of courſe very ſuperſtitious and viſionary, but as I was very far gone myſelf, I did not think that a fault in her.

Indeed ſhe much exceeded me, and moſt others that ever fell under my obſervation, as ſhe in reality totally neglected and diſregarded every kind of pleaſure whatever, but thoſe of a ſpiritual (or viſionary) nature. Methinks I here ſee you ſinile: but I aſſure you ſhe made no exception; but was a complete devotee, and what is more remarkable, without pride or ill-nature.

"Intentions ſo pure, and ſuch meekneſs of ſpirit, "Muſt of courſe, and of right, heaven's kingdom inherit." SIMKIN.

LETTER XXII. "I've ſtrange news to give you! but when you receive it, "'Tis impoſſible, ſir, that you ſhould believe it; "But as I've been told this agreeable ſtory, "I'll digreſs for a moment to lay it before ye." DEAR SIR,

A Friend of mine, of whoſe veracity I entertain the higheſt opinion, has favoured me with an account of a lady, who has to the full as much, indeed more of the ſpirit, but without the goodnature of Nancy Lackington. The fact is as follows:

"'Tis true 'tis pity: and pity 'tis it's true."

Mr. R—t, a genteel tradeſman with whom I am acquainted, having loſt his ſecond wife early in 1790, courted and married one of the holy ſiſters a few months afterwards. They had lived together about ſix months, when Mr. R—t, one Sunday, being a ſober religious man, took down Doddridge's Lectures, and began to read them to his wife and family. But this holy ſiſter found fault with her huſband for reading ſuch learned rational diſcourſes, which favoured too much of human reaſon and vain philoſophy, and wiſhed he would read ſomething more ſpiritual and edifying. He attempted to convince her that Dr. Doddridge was not only a good rational divine, but to the full as ſpiritual as any divine ought to be; and that to be more ſpiritual he muſt be leſs rational, and of courſe become fanatical and viſionary. But theſe obſervations of the huſband ſo diſpleaſed his ſpiritual wife, that ſhe retired to bed, and left her huſband to read Doddridge's Lectures as long as he choſe to his children by a former wife.

The next morning while Mr. R—t was out on buſineſs, this holy ſiſter, without ſaying one ſyllable to any perſon, packed up all her clothes, crammed them into a • hackney coach, and away ſhe went. Mr. R—t, poor ſoul! on coming home diſcovered his immenſe loſs, and in an almoſt frantic ſtate, ſpent the firſt fortnight in fruit leſs attempts to diſcover her retreat.

Three weeks after her elopement, was (ſays Mr R—t) going down Cheap ſide one day, and ſaw a lady ſomething like my wife, but as ſhe was ſomewhat diſguiſed and I could not ſee her face, was not ſure. At laſt I ventured to look under her bonnet and ſound, that, ſu •• enough, it was ſhe. I then walked thr •• times backwards and forwards in Cheapſide, endeavouring to perſuade her to return with me or to diſcover where ſhe lived: but ſhe obſtinately refuſed to return, or to let me ſee her retreat; and here (ſays Mr. R—t) I begged that ſhe would grant me a kiſs; but ſhe would not willingly. However after ſome buſtle in the ſtreet, I took a farewell kiſs. Poor dear ſoul! (ſigh • d he) ſhe is rather too ſpiritual! for notwithſtanding I laid by her ſide near ſix months, ſhe never would be prevailed upon to do any thing carnal; and although I did all in my power to get the better of her ſpiritual ſcruples, yet ſhe was always ſo in love with Chriſt her heavenly ſpouſe, that when ſhe eloped from me, ſhe was, I aſſure you, as good a virgin as when I married her.

I muſt give you one more ſtory of the ſame nature with the preceding.

A gentleman of London happening to be on a viſit at Briſtol about three years ſince, fell in love with a handſome young lady who was one of the holy ſiſterhood; after a few weeks acquaintance he made her an offer of his perſon and fortune, and the young lady after proper enquiry had been made into the gentleman's family, fortune, &c. conſented to make our lover happy. They were ſoon after married, and the ſame day ſet off in a poſt-chaiſe towards London, in order to ſleep the firſt night at an inn, and ſo ſave the lady the bluſhes occaſioned by the jokes common on ſuch occaſions; this happy couple had been in bed about an hour when the cry of murder alarmed the houſe, this alarm proceeding from the room that was occupied by the bride and bridegroom, drew the company that way; the inn-keeper knocked at the door and demanded admittance, our Benedict appeared at the door, and informed the hoſt that his lady had been taken ſuddenly ill in a kind of fit he believed, but that ſhe was better; and after the inn-keeper's wife had been ſent into the room to ſee the young lady, and had ſound her well, all retired to bed.

They had, however, not lain more than two hours, when the cry of murder, fire, &c. again alarmed the houſe, and drew many out of their beds once more.

Our young gentleman then dreſſed himſelf, and opening the door, informed the company that he had that morning been married to the young lady in bed, and that being married, he had inſiſted on being admitted to the privilege of an huſband, but that the young lady had talked much about the good of her poor ſoul, her ſpiritual huſband, &c. and that inſtead of granting what he conceived to be the right of every huſband, ſhe had thought proper to diſturb all in the houſe. He added, that having been thus made very ridiculous, he would take effectual care to prevent a repetition of the ſame abſurd conduct.

He then ordered a poſt-chaiſe and ſet off for London, leaving our young ſaint in bed to enjoy her ſpiritual contemplations in their full extent, nor has he ever ſince paid her any attention.

Some time ſince being in a large town in the weſt, ſhe was pointed out to me by a friend, as ſhe was walking in the ſtreet.

The above puts me in mind of what Ovid ſays was practiſed by young maids on the feſtival of the celebrated nymph Anna Perenna, thus tranſlated by I know not who: "With promiſes the amorous god ſhe led, "And with fond hopes his eager paſſion fed, "At length 'tis done, the goddeſs yields, ſhe cry'd; "My pray'rs have gain'd the victory o'er pride. "With joy the god prepares the golden bed; "Thither, her face conceal'd, is Anna led, "Juſt on the brink of bliſs, ſhe ſtands confeſs'd "The diſappointed lover is her jeſt, "While rage and ſhame alternate ſwell his breaſt.

I am informed from good authority that there are now in Mr. Weſley's ſociety, in London, ſome women, who ever ſince they were converted, have refuſed to ſleep with their huſbands, and that ſome of thoſe will not pay the leaſt attention to any temporal concern whatever, being as they term it, wholly wrapped up in divine contemplation, having their ſouls abſorbed in divine love, ſo as not to be interrupted by the trifling concerns of a huſband, family, &c.

LETTER XXIII. "Women that leave no ſtone unturn'd, "In which the cauſe might be concern'd." HUDIBRAS. "The man without ſin, the methodiſt Rabbi, "Has perfectly cur'd the chloroſis of Tabby: "And if right I can judge from her ſhape and face, "She ſoon may produce an infant of grace. "Now they ſay that all people in her ſituation "Are very fine ſubjects for regeneration." New bath Guide. DEAR FRIEND,

BECAUSE ſome of the holy ſiſters are in their amours altogether ſpiritual, you are by no means to underſtand that they are all totally diveſted of the carnal propenſity.

Some of theſe good creatures are ſo far from thinking that their huſbands are too carnal in their affections, that they really think that they are not enough ſo; and inſtances are not wanting, in which, owing to their having huſbands too ſpiritual, they have been willing to receive aſſiſtance from the huſbands of other women.

It is but about a year ſince a certain celebrated preacher uſed to adminiſter carnal conſolation to the wife of his clerk. This holy communication was repeated ſo often, and ſo open, that at laſt it came to the clerk's ears, who watching an opportunity, one day ſurpriſed the pious pair at their devotion, and ſo belaboured the preacher with his walkingſtaff, that the public were for near a month deprived of the benefits reſulting from his remarkable gift of eloquence.

As I am got into the ſtory-telling way, I cannot reſiſt the temptation of telling another.

A certain holy ſiſter who lately kept a houſe in a country village, within ten miles of London; and took in (as they called it) Mr. Weſleys preachers, by taking in is only meant, that when they came in their turn to preach in the village ſhe uſed to ſupply each with victuals and a bed; (no doubt but they ſlept alone.) This lady was ſo very remarkable for her ſpiritual experience and divine gifts, that ſhe attracted many to her houſe, beſides ſuch as came in the regular courſe of their duty, and among the former a preacher from London, from whom I learnt the affair. This preacher happening to want a wife, and being very ſpiritually-minded, actually married her in December 1790, merely for her great gifts and grace, as her fortune was not above the fiftieth part as much as his own; and as to perſon, ſhe is ſcarce one degree above uglineſs itſelf; although her huſband is well-proportioned, and upon the whole a handſome man. They had not been married a week, when this ſimple preacher diſcovered that his gifted gracious ſaint was an incarnate devil, who had married him only to job, plunder, and —him, and in a few months between her and her gallants, they bullied him out of a ſettlement to the amount of four times the ſum ſhe brought him, and the poor pious preacher thinks that he has cheaply got rid of her.

"Ah, fooliſh woman! may ſhe one day ſee, "How deep ſhe's plung'd herſelf in infamy, "And with true penitence waſh out the ſtain "But—miſchief on't—why ſhould I pray in vain; "For ſhe's but harden'd at the name of grace, "No bluſh was ever ſeen t'adorn her face." GOULD.

The reaſon why I intereſt myſelf in his behalf is, becauſe I am confident that he really is an honeſt well-meaning man at the bottom; but withal one that does not poſſeſs the greateſt ſhare of underſtanding, and who being formerly but a mean mechanic, never had any education; but although he is a great enthuſiaſt, yet he is one of the good-natured inoffenſive ſo • , who will do no harm to any perſon, but on the contrary all the good in his power. I am only ſorry as he lately was an honeſt uſeful tradeſman, that he ſhould have ſo much ſpiritual quixotiſm in him, as at thirty years of age to ſhut up his ſhop and turn preacher, without being able to read his primer; which I can aſſure you is the caſe. But here, my friend, you ſee I forget that theſe heavenly teachers only ſpeak as the ſpirit giveth utterance, and that of courſe all human learning is entirely ſuperfluous.

"— "As he does not chuſe to cull, "His faith by any ſcripture rule; "But by the vapours that torment "His brains, from hypocondria ſent, "Which into dreams and viſions turn, "And make his zeal ſo fiercely burn, "That reaſon loſes the aſcendant, "And all within grows independant, "He proves all ſuch as do accord "With him the choſen of the Lord; "But that all others are accurſt, " 'Tis plain in Cauricles the firſt." BUTLER's Poſth. Works.

A few years ſince the methodiſt-preachers got •••• ing in Wellington (the famous birthplace of your humble ſervant) and eſtabliſhed a ſociety there, ſoon after which one of their preachers (at Collompton, a neighbouring town) happened to like a young ſervant girl, who was one of the holy ſiſters, ſhe having gone through the new birth, better than his wife, becauſe ſhe was an unenlightened. unconverted woman. But this ſervant girl happening to be with child, the news ſoon reached Wellington; and a very wealthy gentleman who entertained the preachers there followed the preacher of Collompton's example, and got his own pious maid with child.

"Bleſſed ſhe tho' once rejected, "Like a little wandering ſheep; "Poor maid, one morning was elected "By a viſion in her ſleep."

After this ſome of the ſociety in Wellington began to have all things in common, and ſeveral more of the holy ſiſters proved prolific; which ſo alarmed the pariſh, that ſome of the heads of it inſiſted that the preachers ſhould not be permitted to preach there any longer. "For, if (ſaid they) the methodiſt ſociety continues, we ſhall have the pariſh full of baſtards."

A ſimilar affair happened at a country town, ten or twelve miles from Oxford, about two years ſince, where a very handſome powerful preacher made converts of a great number of women, both married and ſingle, who were wonderfully affected, and great numbers flocked to his ſtandard; but he had not laboured there more than a year, before the churchwardens were made acquainted with his powerful operations on ſine young female ſaints, who all ſwore baſtards to this holy, ſpiritual labourer in the vineyard; upon which the gentlemen of the town exerted themſelves, and prevented the farther propagation of methodiſm; as "The ladies by ſympathy ſeem'd to diſcover "The advantage of having a ſpiritual lover. "They were ſadly afraid that wives, widows, and miſles "Would confine to the—all their favours and kiſſes."

The author of a letter to Dr. Coke and Mr. More, publiſhed ſince the firſt edition of my memoirs, informs us, that a gentleman of Cheſham had a daughter about ſeventeen years of age, which he put into the hands of a methodiſt parſon, to have her converted, and was exceedingly kind and liberal to him; and we are informed that this raſcal converted her firſt, and debauched her afterwards.

So you ſee, my dear friend, by the above examples (were it neceſſary, I could give you many more) that not all the converted and ſanctified females are thereby become ſo abſorbed in the ſpiritual delights of the myſtical union, as to have loſt all reliſh for carnal connections; as we find that many among them are bleſſed with a mind ſo capacious, as to be able to participate in the pleaſures of both worlds.

LETTER XXIV. "It was not good for man to be alone: "An equal, yet the ſubject, is deſign'd "For thy ſoft hours and to unbend the mind." DRYDEN, "Woman, man's chiefeſt good, by heaven deſign'd "To glad the heart and humanize the mind; "To ſooth each angry care, abate each ſtrife, "And lull the paſſions as we walk through life." Art of Living in London. DEAR FRIEND,

AFTER a long digreſſion, I muſt now return to my own affairs.

I continued in the above-mentioned dreadful fever many weeks, and my life was deſpaired of by all that came near me. During which time, my wife, whom I affectionately loved, died and was buried, without my once having a ſight of her. What added much to my misfortunes, ſeveral nurſes that were hired to take care of me and my wife, proved ſo abandoned and depraved as to have loſt all ſenſe of moral obligation, and every tender feeling for one who to all appearance was juſt on the point of death: ſeveral of theſe monſters in female ſhape robbed my drawers of linen, &c. and kept themſelves drunk with gin, while I lay unable to move in my bed, and was ready to periſh, partly owing to want of cleanlineſs and proper care. Thus ſituated, I muſt inevitably have fallen a victim, had it not been for my ſiſter Dorothy, wife of Mr. Northam of Lambeth, and my ſiſter Elizabeth wife of Mr. Bell in Soho. Theſe kind ſiſters, as ſoon as they were informed of he deplorable ſtate in which I lay, notwithſtanding ſome miſunderſtanding which ſubſiſted between us, and prevented me from ſending for them, haſtened to me and each ſat up with me alternately, ſo that I had one or the other with me every night; and, contrary to all expectation, I recovered. But this recovery was in a very ſlow manner.

As ſoon as I was able to enquire into the ſtate of my affairs, I found that Mr. Wheeler, ſack and rope-maker in Old-ſtreet, and Meſſrs. Bottomley and Shaw, carpenters and ſaſh-makers in Bunhill-row, had ſaved me from ruin, by locking up my ſhop, which contained my little all. Had not this been done, the nurſes would no doubt have contrived means to have emptied my ſhop, as effectually as they had done my drawers.

The above gentlemen not only took care of my ſhop, but alſo advanced money to pay ſuch expences as occurred: and as my wife was dead, they aſſiſted in making my will in favour of my mother.

Theſe worthy gentlemen belong to Mr. Weſley's ſociety (and notwithſtanding they have imbibed many enthuſiaſtic whims) yet would they be an honour to any ſociety, and are a credit to human nature. I hope that I never ſhall recollect their kindneſs without being filled with the warmeſt ſentiments of gratitude towards them.

"He that hath nature in him muſt be grateful; "'Tis the Creator's primary great Law, "That lin • s the chain of being to each other, "Joining the greater to the leſſer nature, "Tying the weak and ſtrong, the poor and powerful, "Subduing men to brutes, and even brutes to men."

On my recovery I alſo learnt that Miſs Dorcas Turton (the young woman that kept the houſe, and of whom I then rented the ſhop, parlour, kitchen and garret) having out of kindneſs to my wife, occaſionally aſſiſted her during her illneſs, had caught the ſame dreadful diſorder, ſhe was then very dangerouſly ill, and people ſhunned the houſe as much as if the plague had been in it. So that when I opened my ſhop again, I was ſtared at as though I had actually returned from the other world; and it was a conſiderable time before many of my former cuſtomers could credit that I really was in exiſtence, it having been repeatedly reported that I was dead.

Miſs Dorcas Turton, was a charming young woman, and you muſt now be made farther acquainted with her. She is the daughter of Mr. Samuel Turton of Stafford-ſhire; her mother by marriage, ſtill retained her maiden name, which was Miſs Jemima Turton, of Oxfordſhire. Mr. Samuel Turton had a large fortune of his own, and about twenty thouſand pounds with his wife Miſs Jemima, but by an unhappy turn for gaming he diſſipated nearly the whole of it, and was obliged to have • ecourſe to trade to help ſupport his family.

"'Tis loſt at dice, what ancient honour won, "Hard, when the father plays away the ſon!

He opened a ſhop as a ſaddlers ironmonger, but as he was but little acquainted with trade, and as his old propenſity to gaming never quitted him, it is no wonder that he did not ſucceed in his buſineſs; and to crown all his other follies, he was bound for a falſe friend in a large ſum; this completed his ruin.

His wife died in Jan. 1773 and his final ruin enſued a few months after; ſo that from that time to his death he was partly ſupported by his daughter Miſs Dorcas Turton, who cheerfully ſubmitted to keep a ſchool, and worked very hard at plain work, by which means ſhe kept her father from want. The old gentleman died a few months after I came into the ſhop. Being partly acquainted with this young lady's goodneſs to her father, I concluded that ſo amiable a daughter was very likely to make a good wife; I alſo knew that ſhe was immoderately fond of books, and would frequently read until morning; this turn of mind in her was the greateſt of all recommendations to me, who having acquired a few ideas, was at that time reſtleſs to increaſe them: ſo that I was in raptures with the bare thoughts of having a woman to read with, and alſo to read to me.

"O • all the pleaſures, noble and refin'd "Which form the taſte and cultivate the mind, "In every realm where ſcience darts its beams, "From Thale's ice to Afric's golden ſtreams, "From climes where Phoebus pours his orient ray "To the fair regions of declining day, "The "Feaſt of Reaſon" which from READING ſprings "To reas'ning man the higheſt ſolace brings, "'Tis books a laſting pleaſure can ſupply, "Charm while we live, and teach us how to die." Lachington's Shop Bill.

I embraced the firſt opportunity after her recovery to make her acquainted with my mind, and as we were no ſtrangers to each others characters and circumſtances, there was no need of a long formal courtſhip; ſo I prevailed on her not to defer our union longer than the 30th of january, 1776 when for the ſecond time I entered into the holy ſtate of matrimony.

—"Wedded love is founded on eſteem, "Which the fair me • i • s of the mind engage: "For thoſe are charms which never can decay, "But time, which gives new whiteneſs to the ſwan, "Improves their luſtre." FENTON.

LETTER XXV. "Reaſon re-baptiz'd me when adult; "Weigh'd true from falſe, in her imperial ſcale, "Truth, radiant goddeſs! ſallies on my foul! "And puts deluſion's duſky train to flight." YOUNG. "All the myſtic lights were quench'd." LEE. DEAR FRIEND,

I AM now in February 1776, arrived at an important period of my life. Being lately recovered from a very painful, dangerous, and hopeleſs illneſs, I found myſelf once more in a confirmed ſtate of health, ſurrounded by my L • ttle ſlock in trade, which was but juſt ſaved from thieves, and which to me was an immenſe treaſure. Add to the above, my having won a ſecond time in a game where the odds were ſo much againſt me; or to uſe another ſimile, my having drawn another prize in the lottery of wedlock, and thus like John Buncle repaired the loſs of one very valuable woman by the acquiſition of another ſtill more valuable.

"O woman! let the libertine decry, "Rail at the virtuous love he never felt, "Nor wiſh'd to feel.—Among the ſex there are "Numbers as greatly good as they are fair; "Where rival virtues ſtrive which brightens moſt, "Beauty the ſmalleſt excellence they boaſt; "Where all unite ſubſtantial bliſs to prove, "And give mankind in them a taſte of joys above." HAYWARD.

Reflecting on the above united circumſtances, I found in my heart an unuſual ſenſation, ſuch as until then I had been a ſtranger to; my mind began to expand, intellectual light and pleaſure broke in and diſpelled the gloom of fanatical melancholy; the ſourneſs of my natural temper which had been much increaſed by ſuperſtition, (called by Swift, "the ſpleen of the ſoul,") in part gave way, and was ſucceeded by cheerfulneſs, and ſome degree of good nature.

It was in one of theſe cheerful moods that I one day took up the life of John Buncle; and it is impoſſible for my friend to imagine with what eagerneſs and pleaſure I read through the whole four volumes of this whimſical, ſenſible, pleaſing work; it was written by Thomas Amory, Eſq (who was living in the year 1788, at the great age of 97) and I know not of any work more proper to be put into the hands of a poor ignorant bigotted ſuperſtitious methodiſt; but the misfortune is, that ſcarce one of them will read any thing but what ſuits with their own narrow notions, ſo that they ſhut themſelves up in darkneſs, and exclude every ray of intellectual light; which puts me in mind of the enthuſiaſts on the banks of the Ganges, who will not look at any thing beyond the tip of their moſes. By the time I had gone through the laſt volume,

"My ſoul had took its freedom up." GREEN.

I alſo received great benefit from reading Coventry's Philemon to Hydaſpes; it conſiſts of dialogues on falſe religion, extravagant devotion, &c. in which are many very curious remarks on viſionaries of various ages and ſects. The works is complete in five parts octavo. There has alſo been a decent Scotch edition, publiſhed in twelves, both editions are now rather ſcarce.

I now began to enjoy many innocent pleaſures and recreations in life, without the fear of being eternally damn'd for a laugh, a joke, or for ſpending a ſociable evening with a few friends, going to the play-houſe, &c. &c.

In ſhort I ſaw that true religion was no way incompatible with, or an enemy to rational pleaſures of any kind. As life (ſays one) is the gift of heaven, it is religion to enjoy it.

"Fools by exceſs make varied pleaſure pall, "The wiſe man's moderate, and enjoys them all." VOLTAIRE by Franklin.

I now alſo began to read with great pleaſure the rational and moderate divines of all denominations: and a year or two after I began with metaphyſics, in the intricate though pleaſing labyrinths of which I have occaſionally ſince wandered, nor am I ever likely to find my way out.

"Like a guide in a miſt have I rambled about, "And now come at laſt where at firſt I ſat out; "And unleſs for new lights we have reaſon to hope, "In darkneſs it muſt be my fortune to grope."

I am not in the leaſt uneaſy on that head, as I have no doubt of being in my laſt moments able to adopt the language of one of the greateſt men that ever exiſted: "Great God, whoſe being by thy works is known, "Hear my laſt words from thy eternal throne: "If I miſtook, 'twas while thy law I ſought, "I may have err'd, but thou wert in each though, "Fearleſs I look beyond the opening grave, "And cannot think the God who being gave. "The God whoſe favours made my bliſs o'erflow, "Has doom'd me, after death, to endleſs woe,"

In the mean time I can ſincerely adopt the following lines of Mr. Pope.

"If I am right, thy grace impart, "Still in the right to ſtay; "If I am wrong! O teach my heart, "To find the better way."

Having begun to think rationally, and reaſon freely on religious matters, you may be ſure I did not long remain in Mr. Weſley's ſociety. What is remarkable, I well remember that ſome years before, Mr. Welley told his ſociety in Broadmead, Briſtol, in my hearing, that he could never keep a bookſeller ſix months in his ſtock, (all fanatics are enemies to reaſon.) He was then pointing out the danger that attended cloſe reaſoning in matters of religion and ſpiritual concerns, in reading controverſies, &c, at that time I had not the leaſt idea of my ever becoming a bookſeller: but I no ſooner began to give ſcope to my reaſoning faculties than the above remarkable aſſertion occurred to my mind.

But that which rather haſtened my departure from methodiſm was this. The methodiſt preachers were continually reprobating the practice of maſters and miſtreſſes keeping ſervants at home on Sundays, to dreſs dinners, which prevented them from hearing the word of God (by the word of God they mean their own jargon of nonſenſe) aſſuring them if the ſouls of ſuch ſervants were damned, they might in a great meaſure lay their damnation at the doors of ſuch maſters and miſtreſſes, who rather than eat a cold dinner, would be guilty of breaking the ſabbath, and riſking the ſouls of their ſervants. But how great was my ſurprize on diſcovering that theſe very men who were continually preaching up faſting, abſtinence, &c. to their congregations, and who wanted others to dine off cold dinners, or eat bread and cheeſe, &c. would themſelves not even ſup, without roaſted fowls, &c.

This I found to be fact, as I ſeveral times had occaſion after attending the preaching to go into the kitchen hehind the old Foundery, (which at that time was Mr. Weſley's preaching houſe) there I ſaw women who had been kept from hearing the ſermon, &c. they being employed in roaſting fowls, and otherwiſe providing good ſuppers for the preachers.

"So," ſaid I, "you lay burthens on other men's ſhoulders, but will not ſo much as touch them yourſelves with one of your ſingers."

A ridiculous inſtance of the ſame nature happened alſo ſome years ſince at Taunton. One of Mr. Weſley's preachers, whoſe name was Cotterrell, aſſured his congregation from time to time, that every baker that baked meat on Sundays would be damned, and every perſon that partook of ſuch meat would alſo be damned; on which a poor baker ſhut up his oven on Sundays; the conſequence was that he loſt his cuſtomers, as ſuch bakers as baked their victuals on Sunday, had their cuſtom on other days, ſo that the poor baker's family was nearly reduced to the workhouſe; when one Sunday paſſing before the door where he knew the preacher was to dine, he was very much ſurpriſed to ſee a baked leg of pork carried into the houſe, and after a few minutes reflections he ruſhed in and found the pious preacher eating part of the baked leg of pork, on which he bid farewell to the methodiſts, and again took care for his family.

It perhaps is worth remarking, that many poor hair-dreſſers in Mr. Weſley's ſociety are reduced to extreme poverty, they cannot get employment, as they will not dreſs hair on Sundays; and I find that a poor milk woman, who until the beginning of this year 1792, maintained her family in a decent manner, was lately frightened out of her underſtanding by a methodiſt preacher; her crime was the ſelling milk on Sundays. The poor wretch is now confined in Bedlam, and her five children are in a workhouſe.

I at this time know a bookſeller, who being a methodiſt, is ſo conſcientious as to have his hair dreſſed on the evening of every Saturday, and to prevent its being diſcompoſed in the night, he on thoſe nights always ſleeps in his elbow chair. Indeed ſome tell the ſtory different, and ſay, that his hair is dreſſed on Saturday morning, and by ſleeping in his chair he ſaves the expence of dreſſing on Sundays; others ſay, that the firſt is the fact, and that he hinted at it in his ſhop-bills, in order that the public may know where to find a tradeſman that had a very tender conſcience.

I was one day called aſide and a hand-bill was given me, and thinking it to be a quack doctor's bill for a certain diſeaſe, I expreſſed my ſurpriſe at its being given to me in ſuch a particular manner; but on reading it I found it contained a part ••• lar account of the wonderful converſion of a John Biggs, when he was twenty-one years of age. Mr. Biggs ſays, that ever ſince that time he has had communion with God his Father every hour. He publiſhes this bill he ſays for the glory of God; but that the public might have an opportunity of dealing with this wonderful ſaint and perfectly holy man, he put his addreſs in capitals, John Biggs, No. 98, Strand. I keep this bill as a curioſity.

LETTER XXVI. "Good morrow to thee: How doſt do? "I only juſt call'd in, to ſhew "My love, upon this bleſſed day, "As I by chance came by this way. BUTLER's Poſth. Works. "Let not your weak unknowing hand "Preſume God's bolts to throw, "And deal damnation round the land, "On each you judge his foe." DEAR FRIEND,

I Had no ſooner left Mr. Weſley's ſociety, and began to talk a little more like a rational being, but I found that I had incurred the hatred of ſome, the pity of others, the envy of many, and the diſpleaſure of all Mr. Weſley's—old women! So that for a long time I was conſtantly teaſed with their impertinent nonſenſe. I believe that never was a poor devil ſo plagued.

"Superſlition is dreadful in her wrath, "Her dire Anathema's againſt you dart." HENRIADE.

Some as they paſſed by my door in their way to the foundery would only make a ſtop and lift up their hands, turn up the whites of their eyes, ſhake their heads, groan, and paſs on. Many would call in and take me aſide, and after making rueful faces, addreſs me with, "O, Brother Lackington! I am very ſorry to find that you who began in the ſpirit are now like to end in the fleſh. Pray brother, do remember Lot's wife.' Another would interrupt me in my buſineſs, to tell me, that, "he that putteth his hand to the plough, and looketh back, is unfit for the kingdom." Another had juſt called as he was paſſing by, to caution me againſt the bewitching ſnares of proſperity. Others again called to know if I was as happy then as I was when I conſtantly ſought the Lord with my brethren, in prayer meeting, in claſs, in band, &c. When I aſſured them that I was more happy, they in a very ſolemn manner aſſured me, that I was under a very great deluſion of the devil; and when I by chance happened to laugh at their enthuſiaſtic rant, ſome have run out of my ſhop, declaring that they were afraid to ſtay under the ſame roof with me, leſt the houſe ſhould fall on their heads. Sometimes I have been accoſted in ſuch an alarming manner as though the houſe was on fire, with "Oh! brother! brother! you are faſt aſleep! and the flames of hell are taking hold of you!"

A certain preacher aſſured me, in the preſence of ſeveral gentlemen, that the devil would ſoon toſs me about in the flames of hell with a pitchſork. This ſame eloquene mild preacher uſed occaſionally to ſtrip to his ſhirt to dodge the devil.

Mr. E. a gentleman of my acquaintance, going through ſome alley, one Sunday, hearing a very uncommon noiſe, was led by curioſity to the houſe from whence it proceeded, and there he ſaw elevated above an aſſembly of old women, &c. this taylor, ſ • ript in his ſhirt, with his wig off and the collar of his ſhirt unbuttoned, ſweating, foaming at the mouth, and bellowing like a baited bull. In the above manner it ſeems he would often amuſe himſelf and his congregation for near two hours, "Curſing from his ſweating tub, "The cavaliers of Belzebub." BUTLER'S Poſth. Works.

Some of the Tabernacle ſaints aſſured me, that I never had one grain of ſaving grace, and that when I thought myſelf a child of God, I was only deluded by the devil, who being now quite ſure of me, did not think it worth his while to deceive me any longer. Others adviſed me to take care of ſinning againſt light and knowledge, and piouſly hoped that it was not quite too late; that I had not (they hoped) committed the unpardonable ſin againſt the Holy Ghoſt. Others again, who happened to be in a better humour, often told'me that they ſhould ſee me brought back to the true ſheepfold, as they really hoped I had once been in a ſtate of grace, and if ſo, that I always was in grace, in ſpite of all I could do: the Lord would never quit his hold of me; that I might fall foully, but that it was impoſſible for me to fall finally, as in the end I ſhould be brought, back on the ſhoulders of the everlaſting goſpel, for when God came to number his jewels, not one would be miſſing.

One of theſe righteous men, after paſſing ſome encomiums on me for my moral character, aſſured me that I had by no means fallen ſo law as many of God's dear children had fallen, but fall as low as they poſſibly can, ſaid he, they are ſtill God's children, for although they may "be black with ſin they are fair within" He then read to me the following paſſage out of a pamphlet written againſt Mr. Fletcher by Mr. R. Hill. David ſtood as completely juſtified in the everlaſting righteouſneſs of Chriſt, at the time when he cauſed Uriah to be murdered, and was committing adultery with his wife, as he was in any part of his life. For all the ſins of the elect, be they more or be they leſs, be they paſt, preſent, or to come, were forever done away. So that every one of thoſe elect ſtand ſpotleſs in the ſight of God. Is not this a very comfortable kind of doctrine? The pernicious conſequences of ſuch tenets impreſſed on the minds of the ignorant followers of theſe quacks in religion, muſt be obvious to every perſon capable of reflection. They have nothing to do but to enliſt themſelves in the band of the elect, and no matter then how criminal their life!

Thus, my dear friend, I was for a long time coaxed by ſome, threatened with all the tortures of the damned by others, and conſtantly teazed ſome how or other by all the methodiſts who came near me.

"Surrounded by foes as I ſat in my chair, "Who attacked like dogs that are baiting a bear."

I at laſt determined to laugh at all their ridiculous perverſions of the ſcripture, and their ſpiritual cant. The conſequence (as might be expected) was, they piouſly and charitably conſigned me over to be tormented by the devil, and every where declared that I was turned a downright atheiſt. But the aſperſions of ſuch fanatics gave me no concern, for "—If there's a power above us, "(And that there is, all nature cries aloud "Through a • l her works) he muſt delight in virtue; "And that which he deligh's in muſt be happy." ADDISON'S Cato.

And no matter "when or where." After relating ſuch ridiculous ſtuff as the above, I think that I cannot conclude this better than with Swift's humourous and ſatirical acount of the day of judgment; ſo humorous that I would no • have quoted it had it not been written by a divine of the church of England.

"With a whirl of thought oppreſs'd, "I ſunk from reverie to reſt, "An 〈◊〉 when ſeiz'd my head, "I ſaw the graves give up their dead: "Jove arm • d with terrors burſls the ſkies, "And thunder roars, and light'ning flies! "Amaz'd, contus'd, its fate unknown, "The world ſtands trembling at his throne! "While each pale ſinner hung his head, "Jove nodding, ſhook the heavens and ſaid "Offending race of human kind, "By nature, reaſon, learning blind; "You who thro' frailty ſtept aſide, "And you who never ſell thro' pride, "You who in different ſects were ſham'd, "And come to ſee each other damn'd! "(So ſome folks told you, but they knew, "No more of Jove's deſigns than you) "The world's mad buſineſs now is o'er, "And I reſent thoſe pranks no more. "—I • o ſuch blockheads ſet my wit! "I damn ſuch fools! go, go, you're bit."

LETTER XXVII. "In London ſtreets is often ſeen "A hum-drum ſaint with holy mein, "His looks moſt primitively wear "An ancient Abrahamick air, "And like bad copies of a face, "The good original diſgrace." BUTLER'S Poſth. Works. DEAR FRIEND,

IT being generally known that I had for many years been a ſtrict methodiſt, ſince I have freed myſelf from their ſhackles, I have been often aſked if I did not believe or rather know, that the methodiſts were a vile ſect of hypocrites altogether? My reply has been uniformly in the negative. I am certain that they are not in general ſo. The major part of them indeed are very ignorant (as is the caſe with enthuſiaſts of every religion) but I believe that a great number of the methodiſts are ſincere, honeſt, friendly people; in juſtice to thoſe of that deſcription it may not be amiſs to obſerve, that many artful, ſly, deſigning perſons, having noticed their character, connections, &c. and knowing that a religious perſon is in general ſuppoſed to be honeſt and conſcientious, have been induced to join their ſocieties, and by aſſuming an appearance of extraordinary ſanctity, have the better been enabled to cheat and defraud ſuch as were not guarded againſt their hypocritical wiles.

"Making religion a diſguiſe, "Or cloak to all their villanies." BUTLER'S Poſth. Works.

I have alſo reaſon to belleve that there are not a few, who think that they can as it were afford to cheat and defraud, on the ſcore of having right notions of religion in their heads, hearing what they deem orthodox teachers, going to prayer meetings, &c.

There are again others who think, that grace is ſo free and ſo eaſy to be had, or in other words, that as they can have pardon for all kinds of ſins, and that at any time whenever they pleaſe, they under this idea make very little conſcience of running up large ſcores, to which practice I fear ſuch doctrines as I noticed in my laſt, from the pen of Mr. Hill, have not a little contributed.

I have often thought that great hurt has been done to ſociety by the methodiſt preachers, both in town and country, attending condemned malefactors, as by their fanatical converſation, viſionary hymns, bold and impious applications of the ſcriptures, &c. many dreadful offenders againſt law and juſtice, have had their paſſions and imaginations ſo worked upon, that they have been ſent to the other world in ſuch raptures, as would better become martyrs innocently ſuffering in a glorious cauſe, than criminals of the firſt magnitude.

A great number of narratives of theſe ſudden converſions and triumphant exits have been compiled, many of them publiſhed, and circulated with the greateſt avidity, to the private emolument of the editors, and doubtleſs to the great edification of all ſiuners, long habituated to a courſe of villainous depredations on the lives and properties of the honeſt part of the community; and many ſuch accounts as have not appeared in print, have been aſſiduouſly proclaimed in all the methodiſt chapels and barns, throughout the three kingdoms; by which the good and pious of every denomination have been ſcandalized, and notorious offenders encouraged to perſevere, truſting ſooner or later, to be honoured with a ſimilar degree of notice, and thus by a kind of hocus pocus, be ſuddenly transformed into ſaints.

The following remarks made by the compilers of the Monthly Review for 1788, page 286, are ſo applicable to the preſent ſubject, that I hope my introducing the paſſage will not be deemed improper. After mentioning a couplet in one of the methodiſtical hymns, where it is ſaid

"Believe and all your ſin's forgiven." "Only believe and yours is heaven."

they proceed thus: "Such doctrine no doubt muſt be comfortable to poor wretches ſo circumſtanced as thoſe were to whom this pious preacher had the goodneſs to addreſs his diſcourſe; but ſome (and thoſe not men of ſhallow reſlection) have queſtioned whether it is altogether right, thus to free the moſt flagitious outcaſts of ſociety from the terrrors of an after-reckoning; ſince it is too well known, that moſt of them make little account of their puniſhment in this world. Inſtead of the "fearful looking for of (future) judgment;" they are enraptured with the proſpect of a joyful flight "to the expanded arms of a loving ſaviour—longing to embrace his long loſt chidren." Surely this is not the way (humanly ſpeaking) to check the alarming progreſs of moral depravity; to which, one would think no kind of encouragement ought to be given,"

I muſt obſerve farther, that the unguarded manner in which the methodiſt preachers make tenders of pardon and ſalvation, has induced many to join their fraternity, whoſe conſciences wanted very large plaiſters indeed! many of thoſe had need to be put under a courſe of mortification and penance, but they generally adopt another method; a ſew quack noſtrums, which they call faith and aſſurance, drys up the wound, and they then make themſelves as hateful by affecting to have ſqueamiſh conſciences, as they really have been obnoxious, for having conſciences of very wide latitude indeed. And notwithſtanding the affected change, they often are as bad, or worſe than ever. As a friend, permit me to adviſe you never to purchaſe any thing at a ſhop where the maſter of it crams any of his pious nonſenſe into his ſhop-bills, &c. as you may be aſſured you will nine times out of ten ſind them, in the end, arrant hypocrites, and as ſuch, make no ſcruple of cheating in the way of trade, if poſſible.

This puts me in mind of one of theſe pious brethren in Petticoat-lane who wrote in his ſhop-windown; "Rumps and Burs ſold here, and baked Sheep's heads will be continued every night, if the Lord permit." The Lord had no objection: ſo Rumps, Burs, and Baked Sheep's heads were ſold there a long time. And I remember to have ſeen on a board, near Bedminſter-down, "Tripe and cow-heels ſold here as uſual, except on the Lord's-day, which the Lord help me to keep." And on my enquiring about the perſon who exhibited this remarkable ſhew-board, at the inn juſt by, I was informed that the pious Tripe-ſeller generally got drunk on Sundays, after he returned from the barn-preaching; which accounts for his not ſelling tripe on that day, having full employment (though poſſibly not ſo inoffenſive) elſewhere.

I alſo ſaw in a village near Plymouth in Devonſhire, "Roger Tuttel, by God's grace and mercy, kill rats, moles, and all ſorts of vermin and venomous creatures." But I need not have gone ſo far, as, no doubt you muſt remember that a few years ſince, a certain pious common-council man of the metropolis, advertiſed in the public papers for a porter that could carry three hundred weight and ſerve the Lord.

I have a few more obſervations to make on this remarkable ſect, but fearing I have already tired you, ſhall reſerve them for my next.

"Seeming devotion doth but gild the knave, "That's neither faithful, honeſt, juſt, or brave, "But where religion does with virtue join, "It makes a hero like an angel ſhine." WALLER.

LETTER XXVIII. "Under this ſtone reſts Hudibras, "A knight as errant as eler was: "The controverſy only lies, "Whether he was more fool than wiſe; "Full oft he ſuffer'd bangs and drubs, "And full as oft took pains in tubs: "And for the good old Cauſe ſtood buff, "'Gainſt many a bitter kick and cuff, "Of which the moſt that can be ſaid, "He pray'd and preach • d, and preach'd and pray'd." BUT • ER'S Poſth. Works. DEAR FRIEND,

IT is very remarkable that while I was writing the laſt five lines of my former letter to you, on Wedneſday the 2d of March 1791, I reccived the news of the death of Mr. John Weſley, who I am informed, died that morning at his own houſe, in the city-road, Moorfields, in the eighty-eighth year of his age. He had no illneſs, but the wheels of the machine being worn out, it ſtopt of courſe. As I am on the ſubject of methodiſin, I hope you will not deem it impertinent, if I devote a few lines to this great parent of a numerous ſect, whom I well knew, and feel a pleaſure in ſpeaking of with ſome reſpect.

Several days preceding his interment, being laid in his coffin, in his gown and band, he was expoſed to the view of all who came, and the public; and I ſuppoſe that forty or fifty thouſand perſons had a ſight of him. But the concourſe of people was ſo great, that many were glad to get out of the crowd without ſeeing him at all; and although a number of conſtables were preſent, yet the pick-pockets contrived to eaſe many of their purſes, watches, &c.

To prevent as much as poſſible the dreadful effects of a mob, he was interred on Wedneſday, March the 9th, between five and ſix o'clock in the morning, in the burial ground behind his own chapel in the city-road. After which Dr. Whitehead (the phyſician) preached his funeral ſermon, but notwithſtanding the early hour, many thouſands attended more than the chapel would hold, although it is very large.

As ſoon as it was known that Mr. Weſley was deceaſed, a number of needy brethren deemed it a fair opportunity of proſiting by it, and each immediately ſet his ingenuity to work to compoſe what he choſe to call a life of him; and for ſome weeks ſince the funeral the chapel-yard and its vicinity has exhibited a truly ludicrous ſcene, on every night of preaching, owing to the different writers and venders of theſe haſty performances exerting themſelves to ſecure a good ſale; one bawling out, that his is the right life, a ſecond with apious ſhake of the head, declares his the real life, a third proteſts he has got the only genuine account; and a ſourth calls them all vile chea • s and impoſtors, &c. ſo that between all theſe competitors, the ſaints are ſo divided and perplexed in their opinious, that ſome decline purchaſing either; others willing "to try all, and keep that which is good," buy of 〈◊〉 of theſe reſpectable venders of the life and laſt account of that celebrated character; while the unintereſted paſſenger is apt to form a concluſion that the houſe of prayer is again become a den of thieves. Thus we ſee thoſe holy candidates for heaven are ſo influenced by ſelf-intereſt that it "Turns meek and ſecret ſneaking oncs "To raw-heads ficrce and bloody bones." HUDIBRAS.

I cannot help thinking that Mr. John Weſley, the father of the methodiſts, was one of the moſt reſpectable enthuſiaſts that ever lived; as it is generally thought that he believed all that he taught others, and lived the fame pious exemplary life, that he would have his followers practiſe. The ſale of his numerous writings produced nett profits to the amount of near TWO THOUSAND POUNDS per annum; and the weekly collection of the claſſes in London and Weſtminſter amounted to a very large ſum; beſides this, great ſums were collected, at the ſacraments and love feaſts, for quarterly tickets, private and public ſubſcriptions, &c. &c. In a pamphlet which was publiſhed in the beginning of this year 1792, by an old member of their ſociety, it is aſſerted that for the laſt ten years, the ſums collected in Great Britain and Ireland, have amounted to no leſs than FOUR HUNDRED THOUSAND POUNDS per annum. Beſides the above, many private collections are made in all his ſocieties throughout the three kingdoms, ſo that Mr. Weſley might have amaſſed an immenſe fortune, had riches been his object. But inſtead of accumulating wealth, he expended all his own private property; and I have been often informed, from good authority, that he never denied relief to a poor perſon that aſked him. To needy tradeſmen I have known him to give ten or twenty pounds at once. In going a few yards from his ſtudy to the pulpit, he generally gave away an handful of half-crowns to poor old people of his ſociety. He was indeed charitable to an extreme, as he often gave to unworthy objects, nor would he keep money ſufficient to hold out on his journies. One of his friends informs me that he left but £4 10s. behind him; and I have heard him declare that he would not die worth twenty pounds, except his books for ſale, which he has left to the "general methodiſt fund, for carrying on the work of God, by itinerant preachers," charged only with a rent of eighty-five pounds a year, which he has left to the wife and children of his brother Charles.

His learning and great abilities are well known. But I cannot help noticing that in one of his publications (ſtepping out of his line) he betrayed extreme weakneſs and credulity, though no doubt his intentions were good. What I allude to is his "Primitive Phyſic," a work certainly of a dangerous tendency, as the majority of remedies therein preſcribed are moſt aſſuredly inefficacious, and many of them very dangerous, if adminiſtered. The conſequence of the firſt is, that while poor ignorant people are trying theſe remedies (beſides the very great probability of their miſtaking the caſe) the diſeaſes perhaps become ſo inveterate as to reſiſt the power of more efficacious remedies properly applied, and with regard to thoſe of a highly dangerous nature, how raſh to truſt them in the hands of ſuch uninformed people as this book was almoſt ſolely intended for, eſpecially when ſanctioned by the name of an author whoſe influence impreſſed the minds of the unfortunate patients with the moſt powerful conviction. Many fatal effects, I fear, have been producad by a blind adherence to this compilation; which carries with it more the appearance of being the production of anignorant opi ••• ted old woman, than of the man of ſcience and education. One melancholy inſtance is freſh in my memory; a much eſteemed friend having fallen an immediate ſacrifice to an imprudent application of one of theſe remedies.

A very worthy phyſician to whom the community is highly indebted for his indefatigable and ſucceſsful exertions in the cauſe of humanity, publiſhed ſome very judicious "Remarks on the Primitive Phyſic," which however, for obvious reaſons, were not ſo generally noticed as the ſubject deſerved; as almoſt all the admirers of Mr. Weſley's work conſiſted of his followers (ſufficiently numerous indeed to inſure a very extenſive ſale) theſe were too bigoted to condeſcend to peruſe any production tending to enlighten their underſtandings; and the public at large, not having paid much attention to it, did not conceive themſelves ſo materially intereſted in the "Remarks," though I am firmly of opinion, if they are peruſed with that candour with which they appear to be written, they will have a very beneficial tendency in guarding the public againſt the miſchief too frequently ariſing from the "Primitive Phyſic," and other quack publications, as abſurd as they are injurious.

Permit me juſt to give you one ſpecimen of the author's wonderful abilities, by quoting a receipt, which if not an infallible remedy, muſt at leaſt be acknowledged to be a ſingular one.

"To cure a windy Cholic." "Suck a healthy woman daily; this (ſays Mr. Weſley) was tried by my father."

Should you, my dear friend, be deſirous of peruſing a variety of remedies, not equally judicious as well as efficacious with thoſe of Mr. Weſley, you will meet with ample ſatisfaction by turning to "Dom Pernety's Voyage to the Falkland Iſlands," page 153 to 162, quarto edition.

Some of the receipts there inſerted are ſo truly curious, I can ſcarce refrain from treating you with a ſpecimen or two, but being at the ſame time not very delicate, I muſt decline inſerting them, for like Simpkin,

"I pity the ladies ſo modeſt and nice."

Should you, however, deem it worth the trouble of turning to the volume, I am confident the ſubject muſt excite a ſmile at the amazing credulity of the writer, as well as his folly in expofing ſuch wretched traſh to the public eye, indeed I can hardly perſuade myſelf he could be ſerious when he wrote them.

The two following receipts I muſt give you, one being no doubt an effectual remedy for a grievous complaint of that uſeful quadruped the horſe, the other at leaſt equally certain for the cure of one of the moſt dangerous diſorders human nature is ſubject to.

"To cure a foundered Horſe."

"Let him take one or two ſpoonfuls of common ſalt in half a pint of water."

"For a malignant Fever."

"A live tench applied to the ſcet for twelve hours, then buried quietly, or thrown down the houſe of office, and the patient will ſoon recover."

But as I well know you do not poſſeſs the faith either of a methodiſt or a papid, to put implicit truſt in whatever the trachers of either chooſe to write or ſay. I ſear leſt I have beſtowed on you labour in vain, I therefore decline quoting any more of thoſe extracrdinary remedies.

It was a circumliance pecularly happy for the practitioncrs of phyſic, though no doubt a terrible misfortune to the public, that the diſſerence in religious principles of theſe two reverend gentlemen proved an effectual bar to the union of their medical obilities, which appear ſo exactly coneſpondent; had ſuch an event taken place, that horrid monſter diſeaſe might by this time have been baniſhed from the earth, and the ſons of AEligſculapius would be doomed to feed on their own compoſitions or ſtarve! The Rev. Dr. Fordyce, in a late publication has alſo given the world a remedy for the cramp, as delicate as efficacious.

What a pity that ſuch a character as Mr. Weſley ſhould have been a dupe and a rank enthuſiaſt! A believer in dreams, viſions, immediate revelations, miraculous cures, witchcraft, and many other ridiculous abſurdities, as appears from many paſſages of his Journals, to the great diſgrace of his abilities and learning; which puts me in mind of Sir Iſaac Newton's Expoſition of the Revelations, Milton's Paradiſe Regained, Dr. Johnſon's unmanly Devotions, &c. &c. However, we may ſaſely affirm that Mr. Weſley was a good ſincere and honeſt one, who denied himſelf many things; and really thought that he diſregarded the praiſe and blame of the world, when he was more courted, reſpected, and followed than any man living, and he ruled over a hundred and twenty thouſand people with an abſolute ſway, and the love of power ſeems to have been the main ſpring of all his actions. I am inclined to believe that his death will be attended with conſequences ſomewhat ſimilar to thoſe which followed the death of Alexander the Great. His ſpiritual generals will be putting in their pretentions, and ſoon divide their maſter's conqueſts. His death happened at a time rather critical to the methodiſts, as the Swedenborgians, or New Jeruſalemiſts, are gaining ground very faſt: Many of the methodiſts, both preachers and hearers, are already gone over to their party, many more will now, undoubtedly, follow; and the death of that great female champion of methodiſm, the Counteſs of Huntingdon, which has ſince happened, will in all probability occaſion another conſiderable defection from that branch of methodiſts, and an additional reinforcement to the Swedenborgians; a proof of the fondneſs of mankind for novelty, and the marvellous, even in religious matters.

I ſhall conclude my remarks on the methodiſts in my next.

LETTER XXIX. "More haughty than the reſt, the—race, "Appear with belly gaunt, and famiſh'd face: "Never was ſo de ••••• a babe of grace," DRYDEN. "Are olios made of conflagration, Their ſermons "Oi gulphs, of brimſtone, and damnation, "Eternal torments, furnance, worm, "Hell-ſire, a whirlwind, and a ſtorm; "With Mammon, Satan, and perdition, "And Bel • ebub to help the diſh on; "Belial, and Lucifer, and all "The nicknames which Old Nick we call. DEAR FRIEND,

ALTHOUGH Mr. Weſley was poſſeſſed of a very great ſhare both of natural and acquired abilities, yet I ſuppoſe it ſcarcely neceſſary to inform you, that this is by no means the caſe with his preachers in general: for although there are amongſt them ſome truly ſenſible, intelligent men, yet the major part are very ignorant and extremely illiterate: many of theſe excellent ſpiritual guides cannot even read a chapter in the bible, though containing the deep myſteries which they have the raſhneſs and preſumption to pretend to explain. Many others cannot write their own names. But ſo great is the ignorance of Mr. Weſley's people in general, that they often neglect the more rational and ſenſible of their preachers, and are better pleaſed with ſuch as are even deſtitute of common ſenſe; really believing that the incoherent nonſenſe which they from time to time pour forth, is dictated by the holy ſpirit; for which ſeveral reaſons may be aſſigned.

It is always obſervable, that the more ignorant people are, the more confidence they poſſeſs. This conſidence or impudence, paſſes with the vulgar, as a mark of their being in the right; and the more the ignorance of the preachers is diſcovered, the more are they brought down to their own ſtandard. Again, the more ignorant preachers having very contracted ideas of real religion and manly virtue, of courſe ſupply the want of it with a ridiculous fuſs about trifles, which paſſes with the ignorant for a more ſanctified deportment, and hence ariſes much of the miſchief which has been ſo juſtly charged on the methodiſts. For by making the path to heaven ſo very narrow, and beſet with ten thouſand bugbears, many deſpairing to be ever able to walk in it, have thrown off all religion and morality, and ſunk into the abyſs of vice and wickedneſs. Others have their tempers ſo ſoured as to become loſt to all the tender connections of huſband, wife, father, child. &c. really believing that they are literally to hate father, mother, &c. for Chriſt's ſake. Many have in a fit of deſpondency put a period to their exiſtence, it having become a burthen too intolerable to be borne. Some have been ſo infatuated with the idea of ſaſting to mortify the ſleſh, that their ſtrict perſeverance in it has been productive of the moſt ſerious conſequences: Two inſtances of which lately occurred in one family, in the City Road—The miſtreſs was deprived of her ſenſes, and the maid literally faſted herſelf to death; and Bedlam and private madhouſes now contain many, very many melancholy inſtances of the dreadſul effects of religious deſpondency; not to mention the hundreds that have died from time to time in ſuch places, and the numerous ſuicides which have been traced to the ſame ſource.

Mr. Bentley ſays, in his letter to the members of the houſe of commons, dated May 12th, 1791, that although he had a fortune of one thouſand pounds, and naturally liked good living, yet that he lived on horſe and aſs fleſh, barley bread ſtinking butter, &c. and when he found that his eating ſuch things gave offence to his neighbours. he left off eating aſs fleſh- and only lived on vegetables, as the common ſort of food by their dearneſs hurt his conſcience,

A few years ſince I ſaw in a ſield not ſeven miles from China-hall a man toſſing up his bible in the air. This he often repeated, and raved at a ſtrange rate. Amongſt other things (pointing to a building at ſome diſtance) "That (ſaid he) is the devil's houſe, and it ſhall not ſtand three days longer!" On the third day after this I ſaw with ſurpriſe an account in one of the public papers of that very building having been ſet on fire, and burnt to the ground, and thus the poor itinerant diſciples of Theſpis loſt the whole of their wardrobe and ſcenery.

This religious maniac ſoon after preached very often in Smithfield and Moorfields; but he did not wholly depend on the operations of the Holy Spirit, as at laſt he ſeldom began to preach until he was nearly drunk, or filled with another kind of ſpirit, and then he was "a very powerful preacher indeed!" But the good man happening ſeveral times to exert himſelf rather too much, had nearly tumbled headlong out of his portable pulpit; theſe accidents the mob uncharitably aſcribed to the liquor that he had drank, and with mud, ſtones, dead cats, &c. drove him off every time he came, until at laſt our preacher took his leave of them with ſaying "that he perceived it was in vain to attempt their converſion, as he ſaw that God had given them over to the hardneſs of their hearts."

But although this holy man deſerted them, yet other ſpiritual knights-errant were not wanting, ſo that a little time before the heaps of ſtones which lay for years in Moorfields were removed for the purpoſe of building on the ſpot, I have ſeen five or ſix in a day preaching their initiation ſermons from thoſe clevated ſituations, until they could collect a ſufficient ſum of money to purchaſe pulpits. Some of theſe excellent preachers received the whole of their divine education and took up their degrees in Moorfields, and in due time, after having given ample and ſuis •• ctory proofs of being properly qualified, have been admitted to profeſſorſhips in the noble college ſituated on the fouth ſide of thoſe fields, generally known by the name of Bedlam. You muſt know, ſir, that many of the lazy part of the communit • ſet up ſtalls in Moorfields to buy and ſell apples, old iron, &c. ſeveral of theſe having heard ſuch edifying diſcourſes frequently repeated as they ſat at their ſtalls, and obſerving the ſucceſs which thoſe kind of preachers met with, boldly reſolved to make trial of their ſpiritual giſts on the heaps of ſtones, and have now totally abandoned their ſtalls, and are gone forth as embaſſadors of heaven, though without being furniſhed with any diplomas as ſuch. One of theſe who cannot read, lately informed me that he had quitted all temporal concerns for the good of poor ignorant ſinners. However after all, "there is (poſſibly) a pleaſure in being mad, which none but madmen know." The ſubject of methodiſm is ſo fertile a one, that were I diſpoſed to enlarge thereon, my correſpondence would be extended to a very conſiderable length; but inſtead of purſuing it, I think it better to apologize for having ſo long digreſſed from the main ſubject of my narrative.

But before I take my leave of the ſubject, I will in a few words inform you how the preachers were governed and ſupported. Mr. Weſley every year ordered the major part of his travelling preachers in great Britain and Ireland, which were upwards of two hundred in number, to meet together, one year at London, the next at Briſtol, and the following at Mancheſter; this meeting he called a conference. At thoſe conferences, the buſineſs of the whole ſociety was tranſacted, new preachers admitted, and ſome turned off, or ſilenced; complaints heard, differences adjuſted, &c. Mr. Weſley having divided great Britain into circuits, at thoſe conferences, he appointed the preachers to every circuit for the following year, and as he well knew the general want of abilities among his preachers, he limited their time of preaching in one circuit to a year, and ſo in ſome meaſure, made up the want of abilities by variety, moſt of thoſe circuits had three or four preachers every year, and in many country places, they had but one ſermon a week from the travelling preachers, ſo that each preacher preached about twelve ſermons in the year, (ſometimes it may be twenty) at each place. In every circuit one of the preachers was called the aſſiſtant: to him the various contributions were paid, and of him might be had any of Mr. Weſley's publications. He alſo admitted new members, or turned out any who were judged unworthy of bearing the high appellation of a methodiſt.

Each itincrant preacher had a horſe found him, which, with himſelf, is maintained by ſome brother or ſiſter wherever they go, as the preachers do not put up at any inn, and yet they have as regular ſtages to call at as the coaches have, they having made converts at convenient diſtances in moſt parts of Creat Britain and Ireland.

Each travelling preacher was then allowed twelve pounds a year, to find himſelf cloaths, pay •• rnpikes, 〈◊〉 beſides what they could get privately out of the old women's pockets. But beſides thoſe circuit-preachers, there "are in the year 1790, in Europe and America, thirteen or fourteen hundred," of local holdersforth, who do not preach out of their own neighbourhood, and thoſe in general are the moſt ignorant of all.

Many of the circuit-preachers only travel until they can marry a rich widow, or ſome ignorant young convert with money, which has often been the cauſe of great unhappineſs, in many reſpectable families. The following poetical deſcription of the methodiſt preachers, is ſo much to my purpoſe, that I muſt inſert it: "Every mechanic will commence "Orator, without mood or tenſe; "Pudding is pudding ſtill they know, "Whether it has a plum or no. "So, tho' the preacher have no ſkill, "A ſermon is a ſermon ſtill. "The Bricklay'r throws his trowel by, "And now builds manſions in the ſky; "The Cobler, touch'd with holy pride, "Flings his old ſhoes and laſt aſide, "And now devoutly ſets about "Cobbling of ſouls, that ne'er wear out; "The Baker now a preacher grown, "Finds man lives not by bread alone, "And now his cuſtomers he feeds "With pray'rs, with ſermons, groans and creeds; "The Tinman, mov'd by warmth within, "Hammers the goſpel juſt like tin; "Weavers inſpir'd, their ſhuttles leave, "Sermons and flimſy hymns to weave; "Barbers unreap'd will leave the chin, "To trim, and ſhave the man within; "The Waterman forgets his wherry, "And opens a celeſtial ferry; "The Brewer, bit by frenzy's grub, "The maſhing for the preaching tub "Reſigns, thoſe waters to explore, "Which if you drink, you thirſt no more; "The Gard'ner, weary of his trade, "Tir'd of the mattock and the ſpade, "Chang'd to Apollos in a trice, "Waters the plants of paradiſe; "The Fiſhermen no longer ſet "For fiſh the marſhes of their net, "But catch, like Peter, men of ſin, "For catching is to take them in."

I now take a final leave of methodiſm, with aſſuring you, that in giving a general idea of the tenets and practices of a numerous ſect who have excited much public attention, I have invariably had in view to "ſpeak of them as they are, nothing to extenuate, nor ſet down aught in malice." Should you wiſh to ſee the crrors of the methodiſts particularly expoſed, you may read Biſhop Lavington's "Enthuſiaſm of the methodiſts and baptiſts compared." It is eſteemed a very good work, it will amuſe as well as inſtruct you. In my next, I in tended to have reſumed the account of my own affairs; but an extraordinary publication, will tempt me to add, one letter more on the methodiſts.

LETTER XXX. "Religion, faireſt maid on earth, "As meek as good, who drew her breath "From the bleſt union when in heaven, "Pleaſure was bride to virtue given; "Religion ever p • eas'd to pray, "Poſſeſs'd the precious gi • t one day; "Hypocriſy of cunning born, "Crept in and ſtole it ere the mern." CHURCHILI. DEAR FRIEND,

ALthough I was many years in connection with Mr. Weſley's people, it ſeems, according to a pamphlet publiſhed a ſew months after the firſt edition of my memoirs, that I was but ſuperſicially acquainted with Mr. Weſley and his preachers. The pamphlet is entitled, "A letter to the Rev. T. Coke, LL. D. and Mr. H. Moore." To which is added, "An Appeal and Remonſtrance to the People called Methodiſts, by an old member of the Society." This old member informs us, that he has been acquainted with the methodiſts twenty-eight years, and if their preachers are but half as bad as he has drawn them, they are a deteſtable ſet of ſly deceiving villains. The letter was occaſioned by Dr. Coke and Mr. Moore's propoſals for publiſhing Mr. Weſley's Life, in oppoſition to that advertiſed under the ſanction of the executors) to be written by Dr. Whitehead.

And we are informed that after Mr. Weſley's ma ••• cripts and private papers had been given up to Dr. Whi • ehead, and the Doctor appointed to write his Life, and this Life annou • ced to the public by the executors as the only authentic work, on a miſunderſtanding taking place between Dr. Whitehead and the preachers, becauſe the Doctor would not ſubmit his work to be inſpected, altered, &c. and alſo becauſe the Doctor would not conſent to give to the preachers at the conference nearly the whole of the proſits derived from his labours, they then ſent a circular letter ſigned by nine of their head preachers, to all their ſocieties, and adviſed them to return the ſubſcriptions that they had taken for Dr. Whitehead's life of Mr. Weſley, and to procure all the ſubſcriptions in their power for another life of Mr. Weſley, to be written by Dr. Coke and Mr. Moore.

The following quotations I think will pleaſe you, page 8, &c. "That Mr. Weſley was a great man is an undeniable truth; that is comparitively:—Great amongſt little people."

"Nothing can exhibit his character as an ambitions man, more than the following anccdo • e, which I can give from the moſt authentic author • y. When a boy he was in the Charter-Houſe ſchool; the Rev. A. Tooke, the author of the Pantheen, was then maſter, and obſerving that his pupil, who was remarkably forward in his ſtudies, yet he conſtan • ly aſſociated with the inferior claſſes, and it was his cuſtom to be ſurrounded by a number of the little boys, haranguing them Mr. Tooke, once accidentally broke in upon him when in the middle of an oration, and interrupted him, by deſiring him to follow him to the parlour. Mr. Weſley, offended by being thus abruptly deprived of an opportunity of diſplaying his ſuperior abilities, obeyed his maſter very reluctantly. When he had got into the parlour Mr. Tooke ſaid to him: John, I wonder that you who are ſo much above the lower forms ſhould conſtantly aſſociate with them, for you ſhould now conſider yourſelf as a man, and affect the company of the bigger boys, who are your equals." Our hero, who could hardly ſtifle his reſentment whilſt his maſter ſpoke, boldly replied:— "Better to rule in hell, than ſerve in heaven."

"Mr. Tooke diſmiſſed his pupil with this remarkable obſervation to an affiſtant maſter.—That boy though deſigned for the church will never get a living in it: for his ambitious ſoul will never acknowledge a ſuperior, or be confined to a pariſh.

"That he was ſuperior to the prejudices he inculcated to his followers, and with what contempt be ſometimes treated the laypreachers, the following will ſhew, —Being at ſupper one Sunday night (a ſhort time before his death) with ſeveral of the preachers, one of them obſerved that whenever Mr. Weſley travelled he was always invited to the houſes of the neighbouring nobility and gentry; but when the preachers travelled, • o notice was taken of them, which he could not account for. Mr. Weſley replied, "It was the way of the world to 〈◊〉 the great, but I ſay, love me love my d • g! enjoying his triumph with a hearty 〈◊〉 at their expence."

After this old members letter comes his Appeal and Remo ••• rance to the Methodiſts, which, as coming hom an old methodiſt, contains ſome very extraordinary affertions and facts, and letters more extraordinary. I ſhall give you ſome extracts from it in page 28. "Faith is the ground work of (methodiſt) evidence—it precludes the neceſſity of every virtue—it is to be feared it has ſent more of its votaries to Bedlam than to heaven—is to wiſe men a ſtumbling block, an unintelligible jargon of myſtical nonſenſe, which common ſenſe and common honeſty reject."

Page 30, &c. "It has been computed that the contributions raiſed among the members of the different ſocieties in Great Britain and Ireland for theſe laſt ten years, has amounted to no leſs than FOUR HUNDRED THOUSAND POUNDS per annum. It has been further proved that about one eighth part of this ſum is appropriated to the purpoſes for which it was raiſed, and the remainder is diſpoſed of at the diſcretion of the conference, the preachers and the ſtewards. This calculation does not include the enormous ſums known to be raiſed privately by the influence of the preachers in their reſpective circuits, under the various pretentions of diſtreſs, &c.

"However, I do not pretend to vouch for the accuracy of th • calculation, yet I think it by no means c •• ggerated. What has come within my own knowledge I can aſſert with confidence, and I challenge any one to reſute it.

"Of Kingſwood School, I can ſpeak with certainty: for this foundation, many thouſands have been raiſed which never were, and I believe never were intended to be applied to that charity. During eight years that I was at Kingſwood, it not only ſupported itſelf, but produced a conſiderable annual ſurplus.

"One of the maſters of King's School, being deſicient in his accounts, he was judged an improper perſon to enjoy any place of truſt, and was accordingly diſmiſſed, and appointed to a circuit as a travelling preacher —but any will do for that, who has but impudence and hypocriſy—no matter whether he poſſeſſes a grain of honeſty. Now if this was the caſe with reſpect to Kingſwood, may we not conclude that the ſame iniquitous principle pervaded the adminiſtration of the finances in all the different departments?

Page 〈◊〉 , &c. "O how long, ye ſhecp, will ye • e the prey of wolves who ſleece and d •• our you at pleaſure! and, ye fools, be the dupes of knavery and hypocriſy?

"Open your eyes, and behold the villain and hyp • crite unn • a • ked, in inſtances of the moſt ſlagitious crimes, and deeds of the blackſt dye! perpetrated by wretches, whom you tamely ſuffer to devour your ſubſtance, and whom you cheerſully contribute to ſupport in idleneſs and luxury, which brings into contempt the goſpel, and whoſe example has done more harm to religion than that of the moſt abandoned and profligate open ſinner: admitting at the ſame time that there may be, and I hope there are, ſome honeſt and ſincere men amongſt them.

"To begin then with the late Rev. John Weſley. As the founder and head, he muſt be conſidered as the primum mobile, or firſt mover of this mighty machine of hypocriſy, fraud, and villainy! Yet were his motives originally laudable in their intention, virtuous in their object, but unhappy in their conſequences. This I will endeavour to make appear, by an impartial review of his life, character, and conduct. I flatter myſelf that I am in ſome meaſure qualified, being totally diveſted of prejudice, and having no intereſt in repreſenting him either as a ſaint or a devil.

"From what I have obſerved during near twenty-eight years that I have known him, I have uniformly found him an bitious, imperious, and poſitive even to obſtinacy His learning and knowledge various and general, but ſuperficial; his judgment too haſty and deciſive to be always juſt—his penetration acute; yet was he conſtantly the dupe of his credulity, and his unaccountable and univerſal good opinion of mankind. Humane, generous and juſt. In his private opinions liberal to a degree inconſiſtent with ſtrict chriſtianity; in his public declarations rigid almoſt to intolerance. From this obſervation of the inconſiſtency of his private opinions and public declarations, I have often been inclined to doubt his ſincerity, even in the profeſſion of the chriſtian ſaith. In his temper impetuous, and impatient of contradiction; but in his heart, a ſtranger to malice or reſentment; incapable of particular attachment to any individual; he knew no ties of blood or claims of kindred; never violently or durably affected by grief, ſorrow or any of the paſſions to which humanity is ſubject; ſuſceptible of the groſſeſt flattery, and the moſt fulſome panegyric was conſtantly accepted and rewarded. In his views and expectations, ſanguine and unbounded, but though often diſappointed, never dejected; of his benevolence and charity much has been ſaid; but it is to be obſerved, benevolence is but a paſſive virtue, and his charity was no more than b • bery; he know no other uſe of money but to give it away, and he found out that an hundred pounds would go farther in half crowns than in pounds; ſo that his charity was little more than parade, as he hardly ever eſſentially relieved an object of diſtreſs: in fact his charity was no more than putting his money to intereſt, as the example excited his followers to the practice of the ſame virtue, and doubled their ſubſcriptions and contributions. In his conſtitution warm, and conſequently amorous; in his manner of living luxurious and ſtrictly epicurian and fond of diſhes highly reliſhed, and fond of drinking the richeſt wines, in which he indulged often, but never to exceſs. He was indebted more to his commanding, poſitive, and authoritative manner, than to any intrinſically ſuperior abilities.

"Having thus given the outlines of his character, I ſhall only obſerve, that he appears to have been more a philoſopher than a chriſtian: and ſhall then proceed to ſome anecdotes and circumſtances which will corroborate my aſſertions, and juſtify my concluſion.

"As the work of God, as it is called, was the ſphere of action in which he was more particularly and conſpicuouſly engaged, and as I have ventured to queſtion the ſincerity of his profeſſions, it is proper that I ſhould ſtate my reaſons for ſo doing. Firſt then of converſion: in the methodiſtical ſenſe of the word, for in the true ſenſe, I apprehend to be neither more or leſs, than forſaking vice and practiſing virtue; but however, the methodiſtical ſenſe imports quite a different thing, and it is in that ſenſe we ſhall view it. I have made it an invariable obſervation, that Mr. Weſley, although he was often in the company of ſenſible men, who were capable of forming an opinion, and preſuming to judge for themſelves by the light of nature, the evidence of the ſenſes, and the aid of reaſon and philoſophy; but of ſuch, he never attempted the converſion. In his own family and amongſt his relations, he never attempted, or if he did attempt he never ſucceeded: except now and then with a ſemale, in whom he found a heart ſuſceptible of any impreſſion he pleaſed to give. It is remarkable, that even the children of Mr. C. W. were never converted—becauſe they, and moſt of his relations, poſſeſſed ſenſe enough to diſcover hypocriſy, and honeſty enough to reject the advantage they might have derived from aſſuming it. But what is ſtill more e • truordinary, is, that out of ſo many 〈◊〉 , who have been educated at Kingſweed, in the moſt rigid diſcipline of methodiſin, hardly any have embraced their tenets, or become members of the ſociety. The reaſon is pretty obvious, they were taught too much to imbibe the ridiculous prejudices the founder wiſhed to be inſtilled into their minds: philoſophy and methodiſm, are utterly incompatible. When the human mind is informed by the ſtudy of philoſophy, it expands itſelf to the contemplation of things.

"It is true indeed, the work was ſometimes attended with power among the children at Kingſwood. Converſions were frequent; but never durable. I myſelf was converted ſome ten or a dozen times; but unluckily, my claſs leader was detected in having ſtolen a pair of ſilver buckles. This was a dreadful ſtroke to the work, and a glorious triumph to the wicked one. The whole fabric of faith, grace, and all its concomitant vices, as hypocriſy, &c. &c, experienced a total overthrow! The ſerious boys as they were called by way of eminence, fell into the utmoſt contempt, and ever after, the leader of a claſs was ſtiled Captain of the Gang: a convert and a thief were ſynonimous terms.

"A general converſion among the boys, was once effected, by the late crcellent Mr. Fletcher: one poor boy only excepted, who unfortunately reſiſted the influence of the Holy Spirit; for which he was ſeverely flogged, which did not fail of the deſired effect, and impreſſed proper notions of religion on his mind. Unhappily theſe operations of the Spirit, though violent, were but of ſhort duration.

"As the converſion of men and women, is a more ſerious concern than that of children, I will deſcribe one, to which I was an eye witneſs among the poor Colliers at Kingſwood. One of thoſe preſumptuous and impious ſanatical wretches, who aſſume the character of miniſters of God, and take upon them in his moſt holy name, to denounce his curſes and vengeance againſt thoſe who are far leſs guilty than themſelves: a fellow of this deſcription, of the name of Sanderſon, preaching to a congregation of ignorant, but harmleſs people; this ſellow, took upon himſelf in the name of God, to condemn them all to eternal damnation, painting their deplorable ſtate in the moſt dreadful colours: ſome of his hearers were ſoon evidently affected by this diſcourſe, which be took care to improve, and taking the advantage of the kindling ſpark, addreſſed himſelf more particularly to them, whom he ſoon "made roar for the diſquictude of their ſouls." The whole congregation were quickly affected in the like manner, one and all exclaimed "What ſhall I do to be ſaved? Oh! I'm damned! I'm damned! I'm damned to all eternity! What ſhall I do? Oh! Oh! Oh! Our performer obſerving to what a ſtate he had reduced his audience, redoubled his threats of divine wrath and vengeance, and with a voice terrible as thunder, demanded, "Is there any backſliders in the preſence of God?" A dead and ſolemn pauſe enſued—till he exclaimed "Here is an old grey-headed ſinner:" at the fame time ſtriking with his hand violently on the bald pate of an honeſt old man who fat under the deſk; the poor man gave a deep groan: whether from conviction, or from the pain of the blow, I know not, for it was far from being gentle. The farce was not yet concluded: when they were ſtrongly convulſed with theſe convictions, he ſell down upon his knees, and with the greateſt fervency, accompanied with abundance of tears, he entreated the Lord in mighty prayer, to have compaſſion on the poor deſponding ſinners whom he had brought to a proper ſenſe of their danger; the prayer continued about ten minutes, accompanied by the ſighs and groans of the converted and alarmed ſinners, in concert making a moſt divine harmony: when ſuddenly ſtarting up he pretended to have received a gracious anſwer to his prayer, and with a joyful and ſmiling countenance, pointing towards the window, exclaimed:—Behold the Lamb! Where! Where! Where! was the cry of every contrite and returning ſinner, (and they were all of that deſcription) There! (continued the preacher, extending his arms towards the window where he pretended firſt to have eſpied the Lamb.) In Heaven! In Colo! making interceſſion for your ſins! And I have his authority to proclaim to you — "your ſins are forgiven—depart in peace."—O, my deareſt brethren, how ſweet is the ſound of thoſe ex • atic words. "Behold the lamb of God who taketh away the ſins of the world!" But could you but feel the pecullar energy, the divine force, the rapturous and cheering import of the original, your mouths would be filled with praiſe, and your hearts with divine joy, holy exultation, and unſpeakable gratitude.— Only mark the ſound of the words, even that will convey an inexpreſſible pleaſure to your ſouls, "Hecca Hangus Dei! Ki dollit pekkaltus Monday!" The ſchool-boys (who were ſeated in a pew detached from the congregation on account of their prophane and contemptuous behaviour during ſervice) immediately burſt into a loud laugh, on one of the congregation ſaying, "O the bleſſed man! We ſhall ſee him again on MONDAY."

In ſome pages following we have an account of the methodiſt preacher's firſt converting his benefactor's daughter, and then debauching her; alſo of a preacher at Beverly, in Yorkſhire, that collected fifteen pounds for a poor man in great diſtreſs, and gave him only fifteen ſhillings, reſerving to himſelf fourteen pounds five ſhillings for the trouble of collecting it, with which, and twenty pounds more he was entruſted with, he decamped the next day, to the aſtoniſhment of the ſimple on whom he had impoſed.

I wiſh the author as he propoſes may ſoon give us a more particular account of the methodiſts, preachers, and people, and alſo of ſome of Mr. Weſley's private opinions, &c.

This pamphlet concludes with very curious letters written by Mr. J. Weſley, and he informs us in a note that the publiſher has his addreſs in order to direct any perſon to the author where they may ſee the original letters. I here give you the whole of theſe extraordinary letters.

Page 50, &c.

DEAR SIR,

FOR your obliging letter which I received this morning, I return you thanks.

Our opinions for the moſt part perfectly coincide reſpecting the ſtability of the connection, after my head is laid in the duſt. This, however, is a ſubject, about which I am not ſo anxious as you ſeem to imagine; on the contrary, it is a matter of the utmoſt indifference to me; as I have long foreſeen that a diviſion muſt neceſſarily enſue, from cauſes ſo various, unavoidable and certain, that I have long ſince given overall thoughts and hopes of ſettling it on a permanent foundation. You do not ſeem to be aware of the moſt effective cauſe that will bring about a diviſion. You apprehend the moſt ſerious conſequences from a ſtruggle between the preachers for power and pre-eminence, and there being none among them of ſufficient authority or abi • ities to ſupport the dignity, or command the reſpect and exact the implicit obedience which is ſo neceſſary to uphold our conſtitution on its preſent principles. This is one thing that will operate very powerfully againſt unity in the connection, and is, perhaps, what I might poſſibly have prevented, had not a ſtill greater difficulty ariſen in my mind: I have often wiſhed for ſome perſon of abilities to ſucceed me as the head of the church I have with ſuch indefatigable pains, and aſtoniſhing ſucceſs eſtabliſhed; but convinced that none but very ſuperior abilities would be equal to the undertaking, was I to adopt a ſucceſſor of this deſcription, I ſear he might gain ſo much influence among the people, as to uſurp a ſhare, if not the whole of that abſolute and uncontroulable power, which I have hitherto, and am determined I will maintain ſo long as I live: never will I bear a rival near my throne.—You no doubt ſee the policy of continually changing the preachers from one circuit to another at ſhort periods: for ſhould any of them become popular with their different congregations, and inſinuate themſelves into the favour of their hearers, they might poſſibly obtain ſuch influence, as to eſtabliſh themſelves independently of me, and the general connection. Beſides the novelty of the continual change, excites curioſity, and is the more neceſſary, as few of our preachers have abilities to render themſelves in any degree tolerable, any longer than they are new.

The principal cauſe which will inevitably effect a diminution and diviſion in the connexion after my death, will he the ſ • ilu • e of ſubſcriptions and contributions towards the ſupport of the cauſe, for money is as much the ſinews of religious, as of military power. If it is with the greateſt difficulty that even I can keep them together, for want of this very neceſſary article, I think no one elſe can. Another cauſe, which with others will effect the diviſion, is the diſputes and contentions that will ariſe between the preachers and the parties that will eſpouſe their ſeveral cauſes, by which means much truth will be brought to light, which will reflect ſo much to their diſadvantage, that the eyes of the people will be opened to ſee their motives and principles, nor will they any longer contribute to their ſupport, when they ſind all their pretentions to ſanctity and love are founded on motives of intereſt and ambition. The conſequence of which will be, a ſew of the moſt popular will eſtabliſh themſelves in the reſpective places where they have gained ſufficient influence over the minds of the people; the reſt muſt revert to their original humble callings. But this no way concerns me: I have attained the object of my views, by eſtabliſhing a name that will not ſoon periſh from the face of the earth; I have founded a ſect that will boaſt my name, long after my diſcipline and doctrines are forgotten.

My character and reputation for ſanctity is now beyond the reach of calumny; nor will any thing that may hereaſter come to light, or be ſaid concerning me, to my prejudice, however true, gain credit.

"My unſoil'd name, th' auſtereneſs of my life, Will vouch againſt it, And ſo the accuſation overweigh, That it will ſtifle in its own report, And ſmell of calumny."

Another cauſe that will operate more powerfully and effectually than any of the preceding, is the rays of philoſophy which begins now to pervade all ranks, rapidly diſpelling the miſts of ignorance, which has been long in a great degree the mother of devotion, of ſlaviſh prejudice, and the enthuſiaſtic bigotry of religious opinions: the decline of the papal power is owing to the ſame irreſiſtable canſe nor can it be ſuppoſed that methodiſm can ſtand its ground, when brought to the teſt of truth, reaſon, and philoſophy.

I am, &c. I. W. City Road, Thurſday Morn.

Our author informs us that the following was written to a very amiable and accompliſhed lady, ſome years ago. The lady was about three and twenty years of age.

MADAM,

IT is with the utmoſt diffidence I preſume to addreſs ſuperior excellence: emboldened by a violent, yet virtuous paſſion, kindled by the irreſiſtable rays, and encouraged by the ſweetly attractive force, of tranſcendant beauty, the elegant ſimplicity of your manners, the facinating melody of your voice, and above all, the inexpreſſible fire of an eye, that the extravagance of the Muſes has given to the goddeſs of love: but which Nature has beſtowed on you alone.

"They ſpackle with the right Promethean fire!"

Believe me, my dear madam, this is not the language of romance; but the genuine exuberant effuſions of an enraptured ſoul. The impreſſion of your charms was no leſs inſtantaneous than irreſiſtable: when firſt I ſaw you, ſo forcibly was I ſtruck with admiration and love of your divine perfections, that my ſoul was filled with ſenſations ſo wild and extravagant, yet delightful and pure!—But I will not indulge in declaring what are my real ſentiments, leſt I ſhould incur a ſuſpicion of flattery. Your mind, ſuperior to fulſome panegyric, unſuſceptible of the incenſe of affected adulation, would, with juſt indignation, ſpurn at thoſe impertinent compliments, which are commonly offered with a view to impoſe upon the vanity and credulity of the weaker part of your ſex: I will not attempt it; but confine myſelf to the dictates of ſincerity and truth, nor ſhall a compliment eſcape my pen, that is not the ſentiment of a devoted heart.

As beauty has no poſitive criterion, and fancy alone directs the judgment and influences the choice, we ſind different people ſee it in various lights, forms, and colours, I may therefore, without a ſuſpicion of flattery declare, that in my eye you are the moſt agreeable object, and moſt perfect work of created nature, nor does your mind ſeem to partake leſs of the divinity than your perſon.

"I view thee over with a lover's eye; No fault thou haſt, or I no fault can ſpy."

The reaſon I did not before declare myſelf, was the profound and reſpectful diſtance I thought it became me to obſerve, from a conſeious ſenſe of my own comparitive unworthineſs to approach, much leſs to hope for favour from, the quinteſſence of all female perfection.—Forgive me, my dear Eliza, and compaſſionate a heart too deeply impreſſed with your divine image, ever to be eraſed by time, nor can any power, but the cold hand of death, ever obliterate from my mind the fond imagination and ſweet remembrance of Eliza's charms! Nor can even death itſelf divide the union that ſubſiſts between kindred ſouls.

Yeſterday, my dear Eliza, the charms of your converſation detained me too late to meet the penitents, as I had promiſed to do; but "With thee converſing, I forget All times, all ſeaſons, and their change."

I hope however, the diſappointment of my company did not-deprive them of a bleſſing.

This being my birth-day, reſſlections on the revolution of years and the ſhortneſs of life, naturally intrude on my mind. I am now eighty-one years of age, and I thank God I enjoy the ſame vigour of conſtitution I poſſeſſed at twenty-one! None of the infirmities that uſually accompany v • ars, either corporal or mental; and I think it not impoſtible that I may ſulfil my hundred years, the reſidue of which ſhall be devoted to love and Eliza.

I. W.

I ſent a perſon to the author of the above pamphlet, to deſire him to give me a ſight of the original of the preceding letters; but he returned for anſwer, that he had ſent them back to the perſons to whom they were written.

LETTER XXXI. "Paſſion, 'tis true, may hurry is along; "Sometimes the juſt may devire into wrong," VOLT • IRE by Franklin. DEAR FRIEND,

My new wiſe's attachment to books was a very ſortunate circumſtance for us both, not only as it was a perpetual ſource of rational amuſement, but alſo as it tended to promote my trade: her extreme love for books made her delight to be in the ſhop, ſo that ſhe ſoon became perſectly acqu • inted with every part of it and (as my ſtock increaſed) with other rooms where I kept books, and could readily get any article that was aſked for. Accordingly, when I was out on buſineſs, my ſhop was well attended. This conſtant attention and good uſuage, procured me many cuſtomers; and I ſoon perceived that I could ſeil double and treble the quantity of books if I had a larger ſtock. But how to enlarge it, I knew not, except by ſlow degrees, as my profits ſhould enable me; for as I was almoſt a ſtranger in London, I had but few acquaintances, and theſe few were not of the opulent ſort. I alſo ſaw that the town abounded with cheats, ſwindlers, &c. who obtained money and other property, under falſe pretences, of which the credulous were defrauded, which often prevented me from endeavouring to borrow, leſt I ſhould be ſuſpected of having the ſame bad deſigns.

I was ſeveral times ſo hard put to it, for caſh to purchaſe parcels of books which were offered to me, that I more than once pawned my watch, and a ſuit of cloaths, and twice I pawned ſome books for money to purchaſe others; but I ſoon was tired of pawnbrokers, and at that time they were not ſo reſtricted, as now, in reſpect to intereſt, and thinking myſelf impoſed on, by being charged more than was reaſonable, I never redeemed the laſt parcel at all; for, indeed, they were books that I had bought extremely cheap, ſo that I borrowed more money on t • em than they coſt me, and in ſo doing rep • d myſelf what I had been overcharged. 'conſeſs we were poor; but, while that is the worſt our enemies can ſay of us, we are content."

Soon after I commenced bookſeller, I became acquianted with what Pope calls "the nobleſt work of God," an HONEST man. This was Mr JOHN DENIS, an oilman in Cannon-ſtreet (father of the preſent Mr. John Denis, bookſeller.) This gentleman had often viſited me during my long illneſs, and having ſeen me tranquil and ſerene when on the very point of death, he formed a favourable concluſion that I too muſt be an honeſt man, as I had ſo quiet a conſcience at ſuch an awful period. Having retained theſe ideas of me after my recovery, and being perfectly well acquainted with my circumſtances, he one day offered to become a partner in my buſineſs, and to advance money in proportion to my ſtock. This confidential ofter I ſoon accepted; early in 1778 he became partner; and we very ſoon laid out his money in ſecond-hand books, which increaſed the ſtock at once to double.

I ſoon after this propoſed printing a ſale catalogue, to which, after making a few objections, Mr. Denis conſented. This catalogue of twelve thouſand volumes (ſuch as they were) was publiſhed in 1779. My partner's name was not in the title page, the addreſs was only "J. LACKINGTON and Co. No. 46, Chiſwell-ſtreet." This our firſt publication produced very oppoſite effects on thoſe who peruſed it; in ſome it excited much mirth, in others an equal proportion of anger. The major part of it was written by me, but Mr. Denis wrote many pages of it; and as his own private library conſiſted of ſcarce old myſtical and alchymical books, printed above a century ago, many of them were in bad condition; this led him to inſert neat in the catalogue to many articles, which were only neat when compared with ſuch as were in very bad condition; ſo that when we produced ſuch books as were called neat in our catalogue, we often got ourſelves laughed at, and ſometimes our neat articles were heartily damned. We had alſo a deal of trouble on another ſcore; Mr. Denis inſerted a number of articles without the authors' names, and aſſured me that the books were well known, and to mention the authors was often uſeleſs. The fact was, Mr. Denis knew who wrote thoſe articles; but was ſoon convinced that many others did not, as we were often obliged to produce them merely to let our cuſtomers ſee who were the authors: we however took twenty pounds the firſt week the books were on ſale, which we thought a large ſum. The increaſe of our ſtock augmented our cuſtomers in proportion; ſo that Mr. Denis, finding that his money turned to a better account in bookſelling than in the funds, very ſoon • ent the ſtock near two hundred pounds which I ſtill turned to a good account. We went on very friendly and proſperouſly for a little more than two years; when one night Mr. Denis hinted that he thought I was making purchaſes too faſt, on which I grew warm, and reminded him of an article in our partnerſhip agreement by which I was to be ſole purchaſer, and was at liberty to make what purchaſes I ſhould judge proper. I alſo reminded him of the proſits which my purchaſes produced, and he reminded me of his having more money in the trade than I had. We were inde • d both very warm; and on my ſying, that if he was diſpleaſed with any part of my conduct, he was at liberty to quit the partnerſhip, he in great warmth replied that he would. The above paſſed at Mr. Denis's houſe in Hoxton-ſquare, I then bade him good night. When Mr. Denis called at the ſhop the next day, he aſked me if I continued in the ſame mind I was in the preceding night? I aſſured him that I did. He then demanded of me whether I inſiſted on his keeping his word to quit the partnerſhip? I replied, I did not inſiſt on it, as I had taken him a partner for three years, nearly one third part of which time was unexpired; but, I added, that, as I had always found him ſtrictly a man of his word, I ſuppoſed he would prove himſelf ſo in the preſent inſtance and not aſſert one thing at night and another in the morning. On which he obſerved, that as he was not provided with a ſhop, he muſt take ſome time to look for one. I told him he might take as long a time as he thought neceſſary. This was in March 1780. He appointed the twentieth of May, following. On that day we accordingly diſſolved the partnerſhip; and, as he had more money in the trade than myſelf, he took my notes for what I was deficient. We parted in great friendſhip, which continued to the day of his death; he generally called every morning to ſee us, and learn our concerns, and we conſtantly informed him of all that had paſſed the preceding day; as how much caſh we had taken, what were the profits, what purchaſes we had made, what bills we had to pay, &c. and he ſometimes lent me money to help to pay them.

At his death he left behind him in his private library the beſt collection of ſcarce, valuable, myſtical, and alchymical books, that ever was collected by one perſon. In his lifetime he prized theſe kinds of books above every thing; in collecting them he never cared what price he paid for them. This led him to think, after he became a bookſeller, that other book-collectors ſhould pay their money as freely as he had done his, which was often a ſubject of debate between him and me, as I was for ſelling every thing cheap, in order to ſecure thoſe cuſtomers already obtained, as well as increaſe their numbers.

Mr. Denis was, at the time of his death, about fifty years of age. He informed me that in his childhood and youth he was weakly to an extreme, ſo that no one who knew him ever thought he could live to be twenty years of age; however he enjoyed an uninterrupted ſtate of health for nearly the laſt thirty years of his life; this he aſcribed to his ſtrictly adhering to the rules laid down by Cornaro and Tryon in their books on Health, Long Life and Happineſs. His unexpected death was in conſequence of a fever caught by ſitting in a cold damp room.

O'er the ſad reliques of a friend ſincere, The happieſt mortal, •• re, may ſpare a tear.

LETTER XXXII. "There is a tide in the affairs of I on, "Which taken at the ſ •• ed ••• ls on to ſorune, "Omitted, all the voyage of their life "Is bound in ſhallows and in miſeries; "On ſuch a foul ſea are we now afloat, "And we muſt take the current when it ſerves, "Or loſe our ventures." SHAKESPEARE'S Julius Caeſar. DEAR FRIEND,

IT was ſome time in the year ſeventeen hundred and eighty, when I reſolved from that period to give no perſon whatever any credit. I was induced to make this reſolution from various motives: I had obſerved, that where credit was given, moſt bills were not paid within ſix months, many not within a twelvemonth, and ſome not within two years. Indeed, many tradeſmen have accounts of ſeven years ſtanding; and ſome bills are never paid. The loſſes ſuſtained by the intereſt of money in long credits, and by thoſe bills that were not paid at all; the inconveniences attending not having the ready-money to lay out in trade to the beſt advantage, together with the great loſs of time in keeping accounts, and collecting debts, convinced me, that if I could but eſtabliſh a ready-money buſineſs, without any exceptions, I ſhould be enabled to ſell every article very cheap. When I communicated my ideas on this ſubject to ſome of my acquaintances, I was much laughed at and ridiculed; and it was thought, that I might as well attempt to rebuild the tower of Babel, as to eſtabliſh a large buſineſs without giving credit. But notwithſtanding this diſcouragement, and even You, my dear friend, expreſſing your doubts of the practicability of my ſcheme, I determined to make the experiment; and began by marking in every book the loweſt price that I would take for it; which being much lower than the common market prices, I not only retained my former cuſtomers, but ſoon increaſed their numbers. But, my dear ſir, you can ſcarce imagine what difficulties I encountered for ſeveral years together. I even ſometimes thought of relinquiſhing this my favourite ſcheme altogether, as by it I was obliged to deny credit to my very acquaintance; I was alſo under a neceſſity of reſuſing it to the moſt reſpectable characters, as no exception was, or now is made, not even in favour of nobility; my porters being ſtrictly enjoined, by one general order, to bring back all books not previouſly paid for, except they receive the amount on del •• ery. Again, many in the country found it difficult to remit ſmall ſums that are below bankers notes, and others to whom I was a ſtranger, did not like to ſend the money firſt, as not knowing how I ſhould treat them, and ſuſpecting by the price of the articles, there muſt certainly be ſome deception. Many unacquainted with my plan of buſineſs, were much offended, until the advantages accruing to them from it were duly explained, when they very readily acceded to it. As to the anger of ſuch, who though they were acquainted with it, were ſtill determined to deal on credit only, I conſidered that as of little conſequence, from an opinion that ſome of them would have been as much enraged when their bills were ſent in, had credit been given them.

In the firſt three years after I refuſed to give credit to any perſon, my buſineſs encreaſed much, and as the whole of my profits (after paying all expences) was laid out in books, my ſtock was continually enlarged ſo that my catalogues in the year ſeventeen hundred and eighty-four, were very much augmented in ſize. The firſt contained twelve thouſand, and the ſecond thirty thouſand volumes: this increaſe was not merely in numbers, but alſo in value, as a very great part of theſe volumes were better, that is, books of an higher price.

LETTER XXXIII. "High in the world of letters, and of wit, "Enthron'd like Jove behold opinion ſit! "As ſymbols of her ſway, on either hand "Th' unfailing urns of praiſe and cenſure ſtand; "Their mingled ſtreams her motley, ſervants ſhed "On each bold author's felſ-devoted head." HAYLEY. DEAR FRIEND,

I Promiſed to give you a few remarks on purchaſing manuſcripts; and as I ſeldom make ſuch purchaſes, and but rarely publiſh any new books, I think you may fairly credit me for impartiality. Nothing is more common than to hear authors complaining againſt publiſhers, for want of liberality in purchaſing their manuſcripts. But I cannot help thinking that moſt of theſe complaints are groundleſs: and that were all things conſidered, publiſhers (at leaſt many of them) would be allowed to poſſeſs more liberality than any other ſet of tradeſmen, I mean ſo far as relates to the purchaſing manuſcripts and copy-right.

Not to trouble you with a long enumeration of inſtances in confirmation of this aſſertion, I ſhall barely mention the following:

It is owing to the encouragement of bookſellers that the public is poſſeſſed of that valuable work Johnſon's Dictionary; and the ſame liberality to the doctor in reſpect to that publication, his edition of Shakeſpeare, and the Engliſh Poets will always reſlect honour on the parties. So ſenſible was the doctor of this, that he aſſerted bookſellers were the beſt Mecaenas's.

The late ſir John Hawkins, Dr. Cullen, the preſent Dr. Robertſon, Mr. Gibbon, Dr. Knox, &c. &c. arc all ſtriking inſtances of the truth of my obſervation.

As I feel a pleaſure in mentioning acts of liberality wherever they occur, ſuffer me to quote the following paſſage from ſir John Hawkins's Life of Dr. Johnſon.

"The bookſellers with whom Mr. Chambers had contracted for his dictionary, finding that the work ſucceeded beyond their expectations, made him a voluntary preſent of, I think, 500l. Other inſtances of the like generoſity have been known of a profeſſion of men, who, in the debates on the queſtion of literary property, have been deſcribed as ſcandalous monopo •• z • rs, fattening at the expence of o her m • n • s ingenuity, and growing opulent by oppreſſion."

It is c ••• id • ndy aſſerted, that the late Dr. Hawkeſworth received ſix thouſand pounds for his compilation of voyages, if ſo (and I have never heard it contradicted) I leave it to any conſiderate perſon to judge, whether in paying ſo enormous a price, the publiſhers did not run a great riſk, when it is conſidered how great the expences of bringing forward ſuch a work, muſt have been. I have alſo been informed that David Mallet, Fſq. was oſſered two thouſand pounds for Lord Bolingbroke's Philoſophical Works, which he reſuſed.

It ought alſo to be conſidered, that frequently the money which is paid for the copy, is but triſling, compared with the expence of printing, paper, advertiſing, &c. and hundreds of inſtances may be adduced of publiſhers having ſuſtained very great loſſes, and many have been made bankrupts, through their liberality in purchaſing manuſcripts and publiſhing them; and on the other hand, it muſt be acknowledged that ſome publiſhers have made great fortunes by their copy rights, but their number is comparitively ſmall.

It ſhould alſo be remarked that authors in general, are apt to form too great expectations from their productions, many inſtances of which I could give you, but I will only produce one.

A gentleman a few years ſince ſhewed a manuſcript to a publiſher, which he refuſed to purchaſe, but offered to be the publiſher if the gentleman would print it, &c. at his own expence which he readily agreed to do, the publiſher then deſired to know how many copies ſhould be printed, on which the gentleman began to compute how many families there were in Great Britain, and aſſured the publiſher that every family would at leaſt purchaſe one copy, but the publiſher not being of the ſame opinion, our author then ſaid that he would print ſixty thouſand copies only, but added, he was afraid that another edition could not be got ready as ſoon as it would be wanted. However, after a long debate, the publiſher prevailed on him to print only twelve hundred and fifty, inſtead of ſixty thouſand, but promiſed in caſe another edition ſhould be wanted in haſte, to make the printers work night and day in order not to diſappoint the public. This work was ſoon afterwards publiſhed and advertiſed at a great rate and for a long time, but to the infinite mortification of our author, not one hundred copies were ſold, not even enough indeed to pay for the advertiſements. In the preceding inſtance I am perſuaded the publiſher did his beſt to promote the ſale of the work; but in gene •• l where authors keep their own copy-right they do not ſucceed, and many books have been conſigned to oblivion, through the inattention and miſmanagement of publiſhers, as moſt of them are envious of the ſucceſs of ſuch works as do not turn to their own account; very many juſt complaints are made on this head, ſo that I am fully of opinion that for authors to ſuccced well they ſhould ſell their copy-rights, or be previouſly well acquainted with the characters of their publiſhers.

"Thoſe who would learning's glorious kingdom find, "The dear-bought treaſure of the trading mind, "From many dangers muſt themſelves acquit, "And more than Seylla and Charybdis meet, "Oh! what an ocean muſt be voyaged o • er, "To gain a proſpect of the ſhining ſhore! "Reſiſting rocks oppoſe th' enquiring ſoul, "And adverſe waves retard it as they roll. "The little knowledge now which man obtains, "From outward objects and from ſenſe he gains; "He like a wretched ſlave muſt plod and ſwea • , "By day muſt toil, by night that toil repeat, "And yet, at laſt, what little fruit he gains, "A beggar's harveſt glean'd with mighty paind" POMFRET.

LETTER XXXIV. "Books, of all earthly things my chief delight; "My exerciſe by day, and dreams by night; "Diſpaſſion'd maſters, friends without deceit, "Who flatter not; companions ever ſweet; "With whom I'm always cheerful, from whom riſe, "Improv'd and better, if not good and wiſe; "Grave, faithful counſellors, who all excite, "Inſtruct, and ſtrengthen to behave aright; "Admoniſh us, when fortune makes her court, "And when ſhe's abſent, ſolace and ſupport. "Happy the man to whom ye are well known, "Tis his own fault if ever he's alone." ANONYMOUS. DEAR FRIEND,

IT has been aſked, times innumerable, how I acquired any tolerable degree of knowledge, ſo as to enable me to form any ideas of the merits or demerits of books; or how I became ſufficiently acquainted with the prices that books were commonly ſold for, ſo as to be able to buy and ſell; particularly books in the learned and foreign languages.

As to the little knowledge of literature I poſſeſs, it was acquired by dint of application. In the beginning I attached myſelf very cloſely to the ſtudy of divinity and moral philoſophy, ſo that I became tolerably acquainted with all the points controverted between the divines; after having read the great champions for chriſtianity, I next read the works of Toulmin, Lord Herbert, Tindal, Chubb, Morgan, Collins, Hammond, Woolſton, Annet, Mandeville, Shafteſbury, D'Argens, Bolingbroke, Williams, Helvetius, Voltaire, and many other free-thinkers. I have alſo read moſt of our Engliſh poets, and the beſt tranſlations of the Greek, Latin, Italian and French poets; nor did I omit to read Hiſtory, Voyages, Travels, Natural Hiſtory, Biography, &c. At one time I had a ſtrong inclination to learn French, but as ſoon as I was enabled to make out and abridge title pages, ſo as to inſert them right in my catalogues, I left off for what appeared to me more pleaſing as well as more neceſſary purſuits; reflecting that as I began ſo late in life, and had probably but a very ſhort period to live (and I paid ſome regard to what Helvetius has aſſerted, viz. that "No man acquires any new ideas after he is forty-five years of age.") I had no time to beſtow on the attainment of languages. I therefore contented myſelf with reading all the tranſlations of the claſſics, and inſerting the originals in my catalogues as well as I could; and when ſometimes I happened to put the Genitive or Dative caſe inſtead of the Neminative or Accuſative, my cuſtomers kindly conſidered this as a venial fault, which they readily pardoned, and bought the books notwithſtanding.

As I have indefatigably uſed my beſt endeavours to acquire knowledge, I never thought I had the ſmalleſt reaſon to be aſhamed on account of my deficiency, eſpecially as I never made pretentions to erudition, or affected to poſſeſs what I knew I was deficient in. Dr. Young's couplet, you will therefore think equally applicable to many others as well as myſelf: "Unlearned men of books aſſume the care, "As eunuchs are the guardians of the fair." Love of Fame.

I had like to have forgot to • nform you, that I have alſo read moſt of our beſt plays, and am ſo fond of the Theatre, that in the winter ſeaſon I have often been at Drury-Lane or Covent-Garden four or five evenings in a week. Another great ſource of amuſement as well as knowledge, I have met with in reading almoſt all the beſt novels; by the beſt, I mean thoſe written by Cervantes, Fielding, Smollet, Richardſon, Miſs Burney, Voltaire, Sterne, Le Sage, Goldſmith, and ſome others. And I have often thought, with Fielding, that ſome of thoſe publications have given us a more genuine hiſtory of man, in what are called Romances, than is ſometimes to be found under the more reſpectable titles of Hiſtory, Biography, &c.

In order to obtain ſome ideas in Aſtronomy, Geography, Electricity, Pneumatics, &c. I attended a few lectures given by the late eminent Mr. Ferguſon, the preſent very ingenious Mr. Walker, and others; and for ſome time ſeveral gentlement ſpent two or three evenings in a week at my houſe, for the purpoſe of improvement in ſcience. At theſe meetings we made the beſt uſe of our time with globes, teleſcopes, microſcopes, electrical machines, air pumps, air guns, a good bottle of wine, and other philoſophical inſtruments.

I cannot help regretting the diſadvantages I labour under by having been deprived of the benefits of an early education, as it is a loſs that can ſcarcely be repaired, in any ſituation. How much more difficult then was it for me to attain any degree of proficiency, when involved in the concerns of a large buſineſs?

LETTER XXXV. "—Honeſt Engliſhmen, who never were abroad, "Like England only, and its taſte applaud. "Strife ſtill ſubſiſts, which yields the better gout; "Books or the world, the many or the few. "True taſte to me is by this touchſtone known, "That's always beſt that's neareſt to my own." Man of Taſte. DEAR FRIEND,

I Thas been long ſince remarked, that a perſon may be well acquainted with books, or in other words, may be a very learned man, and yet remain almoſt totally ignorant of men and manners, as Mallet remarks of a famous divine: "While Bentley, long to wrangling ſchools confin'd, "And but by books acquainted with mankind, "Dares, in the fulneſs of the pedant's pride, "—Tho' no judge decide." Verbal Criticiſm.

The reading and ſtudying of Hiſtory, Voyages, Travels, &c. will no doubt contribute much to that kind of knowledge, but will not alone be ſufficient. In order to become a proficient in that uſeful branch of knowledge, "MAN KNOW THYSELF!" was a precept of the ancient philoſophers. But I can ſcarce think it poſſible for any man to be well acquainted with himſelf, without his poſſeſſing a tolerable degree of knowledge of the reſt of mankind. In the former part of my life I ſaw a deal of what is called low life, and became acquainted with the cuſtoms, manners, diſpoſitions, prejudices, &c. of the labouring part of the community, in various cities, towns and villages; for years paſt, I have ſpent ſome of my leiſure hours among that claſs of people who are called opulent or genteel tradeſmen; nor have I been totally excluded from higher circles; but among all the ſchools where the knowledge of mankind is to be acquired, I know of none equal to that of a bookſeller's ſhop, eſpecially if the maſter is of an inquiſitive and communicative turn, and is in a conſiderable line of buſineſs; His ſhop will then be a place of reſort for men, women, and children, of various nations, and more of various capacitics, diſpoſitions, &c.

Would my health permit my conſtant attendance, I ſhould prefer it, to every thing in life (reading excepted) and you may recollect that for ſome years I ſought no other amuſement whatever.

Before I conclude, I cannot help obſerving, that the ſale of books in general has increaſed prodigiouſly within the laſt twenty years. According to the beſt eſtimation I have been able to make, I ſuppoſe that more than four times the number of books are ſold now than were ſold twenty years ſince. The poorer ſort of farmers, and even the poor country people in general, who before that period ſpent their winter evenings in relating ſtories of witches, ghoſts, hobgoblins, &c. now ſhorten the winter nights by hearing their ſons and daughters read tales, romances &c. In ſhort all ranks and degrees now READ. But the moſt rapid increaſe of the ſale of books has been ſince the termination of the late war.

A number of book-clubs are alſo formed in every part of England, where each member ſubſcribes a certain ſum quarterly to purchaſe books; in ſome of theſe clubs the books after they have been read by all the ſubſcribers, are ſold among them to the higheſt bidders, and the money produced by ſuch ſale, is expended in freſh purchaſes, by which prudent and judicious mode, each member has it in his power to become poſſeſſed of the work of any particular author he may judge deſerving a ſuperior degree of attention; and the members at large enjoy the advantage of a continual ſucceſſion of different publications, inſtead of being reſtricted to a repeated peruſal of the ſame authors; which muſt have been the caſe with many if ſo rational a plan had not been adopted.

I am informed that when circulating libraries were firſt opened, the bookſellers were much alarmed, and their rapid increaſe added to their fears, and led them to think that the ſale of books would be much diminiſhed by ſuch libraries. But experience has proved that the ſale of books, ſo far from being diminiſhed by them, has been greatly promoted, as from thoſe repoſitories, many thouſand families have been cheaply ſupplied with books, by which the taſte for reading has become much more general, and thouſands of books are purchaſed every year, by ſuch as have firſt borrowed them at thoſe libraries, and after reading, approving of them, become purchaſers.

The Sunday-Schools are ſpreading-very faſt in moſt parts of England, which will accelerate the diſſuſion of knowledge among the lower claſſes of the community, and in a very few years exceedingly increaſe the ſale of books.—Here permit me earneſtly to call on every honeſt bookſeller (I truſt my call will not be in vain) as well as on every friend to the extention of knowledge, to unite (as you I am confident will) in a hearty AMEN.

Let ſuch as doubt whether the enlightening of the underſtandings of the lower orders of ſociety, makes them happier, or be of any utility to a ſtate, read the following lines (particularly the laſt twelve) by Dr. Goldſmith, taken from his Traveller.

"Theſe are the charms to barren ſtates aſſign'd, "Their wants are few, their wiſhes all confin'd; "Yet let them only ſhare the praiſes due, "If few their wants, their pleaſures are but few; "Since every want that ſtimulates the breaſt, "Becomes a ſource of pleaſure when redreſt. "Hence from ſuch lands each pleaſing ſcienceſlies, "That firſt excites deſires and then ſupplies. "Unknown to them, when ſenſual pleaſures cloy, "To ſill the languid pauſe with finer joy; "Unknown thoſe powers that raiſe the ſoul to flame, "Catch every nerve, and vibrates thro' the frame; "Their level life is but a mould'ring fire, "Nor quench'd by want nor fann'd by ſtrong deſire; "Unfit for raptures, or if raptures cheer, "On ſome high feſtival of once a year, "In wild exceſs the vulgar breaſt takes fire, "Till buried in debauch the bliſs expire. "But not their joys alone thus courſely flow, "Their morals like their p •• fures are but low; "Nor as refinement ſtops, from ſire to ſon, "Unalter'd, unimprov'd their manners run; "And love's, and friendſhip's finely pointeddart "Fall blunted from each indurated heart; "Some ſterner virtues, o'er the mountain'sbreaſt, "May ſit like falcons low'ring on the neſt, "But all the gentler morals ſuch as play "Thro' liſe's more cultivated walks, and charm our way; "Theſe far diſpers'd, on timorous pinions fly, "To ſport and flutter in a kinder ſky."

It is worth remarking that the introducing hiſtories, romances, ſtories, poems, &c. into ſchools, has been a very great means of diffuſing a general taſte for reading among all ranks of people, while in ſchools, the children only read the Bible (which was the caſe in many ſchools a few years ago) children then did not make ſo early a progreſs in reading as they have ſince, they have been pleaſed and entertained as well as inſtructed; and this reliſh for books, in many will laſt as long as life.

I pity from my ſoul many poor wretches which I obſerve bartering away their conſtitutions, and what few liberal ſentiments they may poſſeſs; riſing early and ſitting up late, exerting all the powers of body and mind, to get what they call a competency, no matter by what means this is effected; thouſands actually deſtroy themſelves in accompliſhing their grand deſign: others, live to obtain the long wiſhed for country retrea • . But, alas, the promiſed happineſs is as far from them as ever, often farther. The buſy buſtling ſcene of buſineſs being over, a vacuity in the mind takes place, ſpleen and vapors ſucceed, which increaſe bodily infirmities, death ſtares them in the face. The mean dirty ways by which much of their wealth has been obtained make retroſpect reflections intolerable. Philoſophy ſtands aloof, nor ever deigns to viſit the ſordid ſoul. Gardens and pleaſure grounds become dreary deſerts; the miſerable poſſeſſors linger out a wretched exiſtence, or put a period to it with a halter or piſtol.

"Were this not common would it not be ſtrange? "That 'tis ſo common, this is ſtranger ſtill."

I now ſell more than one hundred thouſand volumes annually. The profits of my buſineſs the preſent year 1791 (as near as can be computed before the expiration of it) will amount to FOUR THOUSAND POUNDS. What it will increaſe to I know not; but if my health will permit me to carry it on a few years longer, there is very great probability, conſidering the rapid increaſe which each ſucceeding year has produced, that the profits will be double what they now are.

It is now above five years ſince I began to entertain ſerious thoughts of going out of buſineſs on account of the bad ſtate of health which both Mrs. LACKINGTON and myſelf have laboured under: but it was then ſuggeſted by ſeveral of my friends, that as I had about fifty poor relations, a great number of whom are children, others are old and nearly helpleſs, and that all had juſtly formed ſome expectations from me; therefore to give up ſuch a trade as I was in poſſeſſion of, before I was abſolutely obliged to do it, would be a kind of injuſtice to thoſe whom by the ties of blood I was in ſome meaſure bound to relieve and protect. Theſe and other conſiderations induced me to wave the thoughts of precipitating myſelf out of ſo extenſive and lucrative a buſineſs; and in the mean time I apply a part of the profits of it to maintain my good old mother, who is alive at Wellington in Somerſetſhire, her native place. I have two aged men and one aged woman, whom I ſupport, and I have alſo four children to maintain and educate, three of theſe children have loſt their ſath • r, and alſo their mother (who was my ſiſter) the other child has both his parents living, but they are poor: many oth • rs of my relations are in the ſame circumſtances, and ſtand in need of my aſſiſtance.

"If e'er I've mourn'd my humble, lowly ſtate, "If e'er I've bow'd my knee at fortune's ſhrine, "If e'er a wiſh eſcap'd me to be great, "The fervent prayer humanity was thine. "Periſh the man who hears the piteous tale "Unmov'd, to whom the heart-felt glows unknown; "On whom the widow's plaints couldne'er prevail. "Nor made the injur'd wretches cauſe his own, "How little knows he the extatic joy, "The thrilling bliſs of cheering wan deſpair! "How little knows the pleaſing warm employ, "That calls the grateſul tribute of a tear. "The ſplendid dome, the vaulted rock to rear, "The glare of pride and pomp, be, grandeur, thine! "To wipe from miſery's eye the wailing tear, "And ſoothe the oppreſſed orphan's woe, be mine."

LETTER XXXVI.

—This is a traveller, Sir; knows men and manners; and has plough'd up ſea ſo far, 'till both the poles have knock'd; has ſeen the ſun take coach, and can diſtinguiſh the colour of his horſes, and their kinds, and had a Flanders mare leap'd there.

Beaumont and Fletcher's Scornful Lady. "Good ſeen expected, evil unforeſeen, "Appear by turns as fortune ſhifts the ſcene: "Some rais'd aloft come tumbling down amain, "Then ſall ſo hard, they bound and riſe again." DRYDEN's Virgil. DEAR FRIEND,

I Did not intend to trouble you or the public with an account of my wonderful travels, but for want of other amuſements, I thought that a ſhort account of a journey might afford you ſome entertainment.

My ſtate of health being but indifferent, and Mrs. Lackington's ſtill worſe, I was induced to try what effect a journey would produce; it being immaterial what part I travelled to; and as I had not for a long time ſeen my native place, and perhaps might not be furniſhed with another opportunity, we reſolved to viſit it.

"And many a year elaps'd, return to view "Where once the cottage ſtood, the hawthorn grew. "Remembrance wakes with all her buſy train, "Swells at my breaſt— "I ſtill had hopes, for pride attends us ſtill, "Amidſt the ſwains to ſhew my book learn'd ſkill. "Yes, let the rich deride, with proud diſdain "The ſimple bleſſings of the lowly train, "To me more dear, congenial to my heart, "One native charm, than all the gloſs of art; "Spontaneous joys, where nature has its play,— "The ſoul adopts, and owns their firſt-born ſway: "Lightly they frolic o'er the vacant mind, "Unenvy'd, unmoleſted, unconfin'd." GOLDSMITH.

Accordingly in July laſt, 1791, we ſet out from Merton, which I now make my chief reſidence, taking Bath, Briſtol, &c. in our way to my native place Wellington.

In Briſtol, Exbridge, Bridgewater, Taunton, Wellington, and other places, I amuſed myſelf in calling on ſome of my maſters, with whom I had about twenty years before worked as a journeyman ſhoemaker. I addreſſed them with, "Pray Sir, have you got any occaſion?" which is the term made uſe of by journeymen in that uſeful occupation, when ſeeking employment. Moſt of thoſe honeſt men had quite forgot my perſon, as many of them had not ſeen me ſince I worked for them: ſo that it is not eaſy for you to conceive with what ſurpriſe and aſtoniſhment they gazed on me. For you muſt know that I had the vanity (I call it humour) to do this in my chariot, attended by my ſervants; and on telling them who I was, all appeared to be very happy to ſee me. And I aſſure you, my friend, it afforded me much real pleaſure to ſee ſo many of my old acquaintances alive and well, and tolerable happy. The following lines often occurred to my mind:

"Far from the madding crowd's ignoble ſtriſe, "Their ſober wiſhes never learn'd to ſtray; "Along the cool ſequeſtered vale of life "They keep the noiſeleſs tenor of their way."

At Taunton and Wellington it ſeemed to be the unanimous determination of all the poorer ſort, that I ſhould by no means be deficient in old acquaintance. Some poor ſouls declared that they had known me for fifty years (that is, years before I was born) others had danced me in their arms a thouſand times; nay, better ſtill, ſome knew my grandmother; but, beſt of all, one old man claimed acquaintance with me, for having ſeen me many times on the top of a ſix-and-twenty round ladder, balanced on the chin of a merry Andrew! The old man was however egregiouſly miſtaken, as I never was ſo precariouſly exalted. But that was of no conſequence: all the old fellow wanted was a ſhilling—and I gave it him. No matter (as Sterne ſays) from what motive. I never examine into theſe things. This I obſerved, that none of them were common beggars, but poor uſeful labouring people. Giving to common ſtrollers is but encouraging idleneſs and every other vice. And as ſmall matters made many happy, I was ſupremely ſo, to be the means of contributing to their comfort. And indeed who would heſitate at being the means of diffuſing happineſs on ſuch eaſy terms, and with ſo little trouble?

But to proceed with my journey. I eſteem myſelf peculiarly happy, on one account in particular, that I undertook it; and have only to regret it did not take place ſooner, as it tended to undeceive me in a matter in which I had long been in an error. The caſe was this: I had for ſeven years paſt ſuppoled that the parents of my firſt wiſe were dead; and on enquiring after them of Mr. Caſh at Bridgewater, he confirmed the report. However as we paſſed through South Petherton, being but a mile from the place where they formerly lived, I could not help ſtopping to find out the time when they died, and what other particulars I could learn relative to them, but to my very great ſurpriſe, I was informed that they were both living at Newton, two miles diſtant. On this information I gave the coachman orders to drive us there, but ſtill could ſcarcely credit that they really were alive.—But, O my dear friend, it is utterly impoſſible for me to deſcribe the ſenſations of Mrs. Lackington and myſelf on entering

— "The cobweb'd cottage, "With ragged wall of mo ••• ' • ing mud," which contained them! "Then Poverty, grim ſpectre, roſe, "And horror o • er the proſpect threw."

There we found—two

"Poor human ruins, tottering o'er the grave!"

The dim light on our entrance ſeemed a little to flaſh in the ſocket, and every moment threatened to diſappear forever! while their "pale wither'd hands were ſtretched out towards me, trembling at once with eagerneſs and age.' Never before did. I feel the full force of Shakeſpeare's deſcription, "—Laſt ſcene of all "That ends this ſtrange even • ful hiſtory, "Is ſecond childiſhneſs; and mere oblivion: "Sansteeth, ſans eyes, ſanstaſte; ſans every thing.

From ſuch a ſtate of poverty and wretchedneſs, Good God, deliverevery worthy character.

The old man is ninety years of age, and the good old woman eighty. The old man's intellects are much impaired; he for a moment knew me, and then his recollection forſook him. The old woman retained her ſenſes and knowledge during the whole of the time we were with them. On inquiry I found, that what little property they had poſſeſſed had been all expended for ſome years.

"How many once in fortune's lap high fed, "Solicit the cold hand of Charity! "To ſhock us more—ſolicit it in vain!" Dr. YOUNG.

Amidſt this dreary ſcene, it was ſome alleviation to learn that their pious ſon had given them weekly as much as he could afford from his own little family, and I have added enough to render them as comfortable as their great age can poſſibly admit of. But for your ſake and my own, I will drop this gloomy ſubject; which to me proved one of the moſt affecting ſcenes that ever I experienced in the whole courſe of my life.

During our continuance at Wellington, I one morning rode over to Black Down, on purpoſe to inſpect an immenſe heap of ſtones on the top of the hill, ſtrait before the town, which I remembered to have ſeen when a boy. The diſtance from Wellington is about two miles. Thoſe ſtones cover about an acre of ground, and riſe to a great height. The country people informed me with great gravity, that "the Devil brought them therein one night in his leathern apron." But the name of it, as well as the form, prove what it was. It is called Symmon's Borough or Barrow; which, you know, ſignifies a burial-place. I ſhould not have taken any notice of it here, had I ever ſeen any Barrow of ſtones beſides this, and five other finaller Barrows, about half a mile from the large one. The country people informed me that the devil brought the five heaps in his glove. I alſo obſerved the remains of a large camp near the ſpot. Camden has taken notice of a large camp at Roach Caſtle, three or four miles from hence; It is ſtrange that neither he nor Gough ſhould take any notice of ſo ſingular a Barrow as this certainly is.

I have now, ſir, given you the moſt material circumſtances of my life. And ſhould the fine air of Merton preſerve my ſtock of health and ſpirits which I have acquired in this laſt excurſion, I intend during the ſummer to ſpend a few hours in the middle of three or four days in every week in Chiſwellſtreet, devoting the mornings and evenings to my rural retreat, "Where cheerfulneſs triumphant fair, "Diſpels the painful cloud of care, "O, ſweet of language, mild of mein, "O, virtue's friend, and pleaſure's queen! "By thee our board with flow'rs is crown'd, "By thee with ſongs our walks reſound; "By thee the ſprightly mornings ſhine, "And ev'ning hours in peace decline."

During the winter I purpoſe ſpending moſt of my time in town; where I hope again to enjoy the company of you, ſir, and ſome others of our old philoſophical friends.

FINIS.