vant, and tell him to bring his master's horses and carriage, and all their packages, immediately to my

house.

Lovely. Oh, dear sir, this is quite too much! -I am afraid my poor dear wife will feel herself entirely thrown out of that humble contemplative state of retirement we wish to enjoy, by her being introduced into your house.

Wor. O, Mrs. Lovely will find just the contrary, within half an hour after she has really commenced our guest: we have nothing to do with the fulsome formal parade of the world at our house. [To the labourer.] Why don't you go, John?

John. An't please your honour, I'll go directly. Lovely. Sir, if you insist upon such an extraordinary act of hospitality, I should be glad to go with him, as I have some matters to settle with my servant on this remove.

Wor. Well, sir, then I shall go to the house, and tell Mrs. Worthy and Mrs. Lovely how we have settled matters, and shall expect your speedy return.

Mr. Worthy and Mr. Lovely immediately separated; but as there are still a variety of events which may require an abridgement to prevent repetition, the reader will excuse the dress of dialogue, while he is further informed, that Mr. Worthy accordingly went home, and in the fulness of his benevolent heart received Mrs. Lovely rather too abruptly for the tender feelings of her delicate and sentimental mind; telling her that he had heard every circumstance respecting them; and that he was quite in raptures at the fidelity and integrity of Mr. Lovely's conduct; and begged their acceptance of every token in his power of their hospitality and esteem. He insisted upon it that they should be their guests, at least, for some days; and that, after they had received a short sample of their sincere and

sympathetic regard, they should judge for themselves, how long they might further favour them with their

company.

This so won upon the mind of Mrs. Lovely, that she could scarcely support herself under the strong impressions of gratitude she felt from this instance of truly Christian benevolence. Her husband just then came in, and found her scarcely able to speak, and in tears, from the influence this had upon her most grateful and affectionate disposition.

The cause of this was immediately explained to him. Let the reader's imagination next describe the feelings of this very sincere and affectionate youth; thus engaged in wiping away each tear as it dropt from her eye, while he had enough to do to quell the like sympathetic tear as it involuntarily forced itself through the same sluices of his affection: and then let him judge whether Mr. Lovely would have been a happier man, had he neglected one of such a mind, for the sake of either of the three unsentimental baubles, whichever it might have been, that, through the mere pride and covetousness of the parties, was designed to have been entailed upon him.

Thus Mr. and Mrs. Lovely commenced the guests of Mr. and Mrs. Worthy, while the honest landlord of the Golden Lion parted with them with considerable regret. They could not, however, help remarking, in the course of the evening's conversation, how very orderly all their little matters were conducted at the public house, and that it was the first house they ever remembered of that sort in which they heard the private voice of family prayer.

In the course of the evening conversation, Mr. Lovely started some queries concerning a young woman, who appeared quite of a dejected turn of mind, and asked whether it was from some deep affliction, or, it should rather appear, from some melan

choly derangement. But when Mr. Worthy began to tell the story of Mrs. Chipman, as it has been before related to the reader, it was soon found too strong a contrast of what had passed between Mr. and Mrs. Lovely, for their tender minds to bear, especially as related to the feelings of Mrs. Chipman, since she had been made sensible of the evil consequences of sin. The conversation, therefore, took another turn. Mrs. Worthy made some enquiries into the family of the Lovelys, as her mother used to claim relationship to some of that name. By this means they discovered that there was no very distant relationship between the Worthys and the Lovelys, though they were very glad it was not on the side of the Greedys. Mr. Lovely also had to console himself with a hope, that an intermixture into that family might ultimately be of no great harm to the next generation, as his grandfather was too much the other way, and had suffered considerably, by lending large sums of money to some, in being security for others, and liberal upon all occasions, so that his fortune had been much injured by his generosity.

Upon this discovery, the easy and affectionate appellation of cousin, was at once adopted, and the conversation became familiar; soon after which, the day was terminated by supper, and prayer. The day following being the sabbath, the reader may expect another dialogue, as the result of that day's exercises. And if this dialogue be now in the hands of those who retire to their rest, without first dedicating themselves to God, by family prayer; while they conclude the evening by reading this little dramatic attempt, may this laudable custom, so seriously attended to at Brookfield Hall, excite my kind readers also to break through the united barriers of sloth and shame; and, ere they close their eyes in sleep, may they close the day with God!

DIALOGUE XXI.

BETWEEN THE LOVELYS AND THE FAMILY OF. BROOKFIELD HALL.

THE CLAIMS OF SELF-RIGHTEOUSNESS EXAMINED.

THE following day being Sunday, Mr. and Mrs. Lovely attended the family to Brookfield Church. The pleasing sight of so large and devout a congre gation, collected from every quarter, and the holy reverence with which the service was conducted, surprised them not a little. Mr. Lovegood's sermon was from that text; "Our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory:" and, though they both felt the text suitable and desirable, as it related to their own situation; yet the application, at first, rather surprised them, that we were all sinners before God; and that chastisement was needed to detect the latent venom of corrupted nature, however it might be cloaked from our view, by the favourable circumstance of a good disposition, and a life of strict morality: that though we should esteem every good we enjoy as "the gift of God," and hold such gifts in due estimation, as they, at least, prevent an abundance of evil; yet, the real good which made us meet for heaven arose from another source: and, though he believed that where there was a high degree of morality, or uprightness before man, (as even so much as this was of uncommon growth,) he humbly trusted that there might be

VOL. II.

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the seeds of the divine principle secretly implanted; yet, after all it is "the grace of God that bringeth salvation, and which teacheth us to deny ungodliness and worldly lusts; and to live soberly, righteously, and godly in this present world." And in Mr. Lovegood's application of his sermon, though he cautiously avoided an indiscriminate charge against all good, as though it were evil, because we ourselves are so; yet, he still urged that there was nothing good in us, but what was blended with evil. He appealed to the consciences of his hearers, if all of them had not found, more or less, some unwarrantable murmurings and repinings against God, during sharp and heavy afflictions; until their hearts, under the influence of divine grace, were duly humbled to acknowledge their own sinfulness in his sight. He then brought the instance of holy Job, how he, for a time, was found in rebellion against the correcting hand of God, till he was better instructed by a deeper knowledge of his holiness to cry in humble submission, "Behold, I am vile."

These considerations brought to Mrs. Lovely's recollection the many unwarrantable reflections which had passed her own mind during her afflictions, though she thought little of them for the moment; yet now, for the first time, her conscience began to recoil at them, as being a proof of the inbred corruption of her nature, of which before she had scarcely the most distant conception. She had frequently been reflecting upon the native goodness of her heart, praising herself rather than God, that she was naturally so much better than the rest of mankind; and wondered how a merciful God should permit her to be so afflicted, while many, so far her inferiors in all the principles of virtue and morality, were prosperous.