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tespects have passed for wise people, who, in the comedy of love, have acted the silliest parts.
Sir, replied I, nothing of that kind, I assure you, has at present affected me : at the same time I must confess, that my niind has been many times much agitated. I consider that in a few years at most I must leave this world, and appear before the bar of Hiin whose eyes are as a flame of fire, and who trieth the reins and the heart, He will ask me what I have to plead why judgment should not pass against me. Pray, my dear father, what can ! say ; or what could you answer in the same case ? for your case it must be as well as mine.
My dear Eusebia, cried my father, it is wrong to give way to such melancholy thoughts : you have always been very good, my child; and if such a one as you is not saved, I may justly say, Wo be to thousands! You have every thing to hope, and nothing to fear. You were, washed from your original sin, and regenerated, at the laver of baptism ; and you, in evil times, have been nurtured and brought up in the bosom of the church; and Christ has promised that the gates of hell shall not prevail against his church. Now a promise which is made to the whole, must also be made to every member: therefore we have reason to believe, that even the worst who have died in the bosom of the church, although they have not made atonement for their crimes by true repentance, will be deliver, ed in due time from the fires of purgatory, through the intercession of good angels and the prayers of the faithful, O my child, how many promises are made to the church of God, from the benefit of which those persons exclude themselves who leave the society of the faithful ! No promise is made 10 sectaries and schismatics : on the contra.. ry, they manifest what they are by their breach of the unity. of the church. The apostle St. John says, They went out from us, but they were not of us ; for if they had been of us, they would no doubt have continued with us: but they went out, that they might be made manifest that they were pot all of us. My dear Eusebia, continued he, you haye
been moping here by yourself, which naturally nourishes melancholy. I was desirous that you should accompany us, but was unwilling to press you contrary to your inclina. tion. Your sister was as cheerful as a lark; and so we were all. Bath is truly a most agreeable place, and there was a great deal of good company.
I told my father, that with his leave I would go and see my friend Miss Barnwell, as I had heard she was just come from London, where she had been nearly nine months.
By all means, replied my father. I wish, my child, you may become as brisk and as cheerful as Miss Barnwell; and I see no reason why you should not.
Indeed, Madam, I am a sad coward; I do not know how I could suffer martyrdom for Christ. I fully intended, when we began this conversation, to inform my father that I was a protestant; but I was just as if my tongue was tied. My dear father is a most tender parent, and his compassion and benevolence to the poor scarcely know any bounds ; but you perceive what his hope of eternal life is built upon. My dear friend, join your prayers with mine, that the foundation of his hope may be the rock of ages; or that work of the Redeemer, which he declared to be finished, when he bowed his hcad, and expired.
I was lately conversing with Thomas, about my leaving the church of Rome, and the probable consequences of my father's displeasure. My friend, said he, if there be a God whose power and wisdom were exercised in our creation, and whose gracious providence watches over us every moment, let us endeavour to dismiss every disquieting fear, and to put our trust in Him who careth for us. But if there be no God, or if he take no notice of his creatures, let us eat and drink, for to-inorrow we die. The hearts of all men are in the hand of him who made them; and how perverse soever they may be, they never fail to bring forward the execution of his purposes. God has been unfolding and accomplishing his designs concerning you every moment of your life ; and he will exercise his
care over you during the endless ages of eternity. You have no reason, therefore, to be distressed, unless you think, either that his purposes concerning you are not wise and good, or that he will not be able to accomplish them.
0 Thomas, replied I, that neither of these is the case I am abundantly convinced ; but you must grant that the servants of Jesus Christ have undergone many dreadful trials. I am terrified at the consciousness of my own weakness.
You are afraid, answered he, that when God formed his plan, he did not consider the smallness of your strength.
I am indeed a foolish creature, Thomas, cried I; but God is all-sufficient. I desire, therefore, to be as clay in his hands, that he may fashion me as he pleases, and do with me whatsoever seemeth good in his sight.
I think it a great mercy, Madam, that I have learned to spin, which I did for my amusement. Either that or my needle would, with the divine blessing, procure me the necessaries of life, if I could not obtain a servant's place where I could be useful. Time will soon pass away :that time which God has allotted for the trial of his servants. Pray for me, my dear friend, that I may endure as seeing him who is invisible, and that I may come out of the furnace like gold seven times refined.
Thomas and his wife desire their dutiful respects. How cheerful and happy they are with their scanty pittance! Their humble dwelling is comfortable and clean. I think I could be very happy in as humble a situation, if it were provided for me by my heavenly Father. I am more and more convinced that riches are not so valuable as mankind in general think them. When a wise man considers the pride and idleness, the voluptuousness and diseases, commonly attendant upon them, and also how difficult it is for the rich to enter into the kingdom of hea. ven, he will endeavour to moderate his desire of that deceitful mammon. Thus speaks my better judgment: but I find, with Paul, a law in my members warring against
the law of my mind, and bringing me into captivity to the law of sin. When I would do good, and when I wish to think of divine things, I too frequently find evil to be present with me; so that I also am obliged to cry out, Who shall deliver me from the body of this death? I bless God for the gospel, which alone gives a satisfactory answer to this question,
I am, dear Madam,
From Miss Barnwell to Mrs. Worthington.
THROUGH the kind providence of God I am safely arrived at Barnwell: I can scarcely say at home ; for never was there a parent more altered than my father. The cause which is assigned is, that I am so different from what I was; but in truth, though that may be some, it is only a small part of the reason. All the way upon the road my father did nothing but talk to me upon the subject of marriage. He was determined, he said, to have me married, as that, he had no doubt, would cure all my religious whims! and by mere accident he had seen a gentleman at the play, whom I knew very well, with whom he spent the next evening at the tavern, where all the conversation was about me. He has promised to come and see you, continued my father, when we are at home. Indeed he was desirous of visiting you at your aunt's, but I put him off with telling him that you were out upon a visit, lest your aunt or you should have begun about religion, and have sickened him at the outset.
It was not till after we had arrived at home that I was informed who this gentleman was ; for I had no inclination to make any inquiry about him. The place where my father met him sufficiently indicated his character. And pray, Madam, who do you think it is ? No other than the only son of Mr. Clifford of Poplar-Grange. I dare say you have seen him several times at our house. He has been two or three years upon his travels : and now he is returned, my father tells me it is his determination to mar. ry, and to become a domestic animal for the remainder of his life, since he is weary of the impertinence and knavery of foreigners. When I told him, added he, that I would make him a present of my daughter, he took hold of my
Barnwell would be just such a wife as he should wish for.
I replied, that I was fearful Mr. Clifford would not be such a husband as I should wish for.
There are very few ladies in this country, replied my father, who would say No, if they had the offer. He is not only a handsome, well-bred gentleman, but he also posses. ses the main chance. His uncle, who died lately, has left him a capital mansion, and a good thousand a year, which is independent of what he will have at the death of his father.
All this, Sir, replied I, may be, and I believe is true ; but as I never intend to marry any person without your consent, I hope you will give me the liberty to refuse one that is not agreeable to me. Christianity is with me an indispensable qualification : but Mr. Clifford, if he be like his father, as I suppose, Sir, he is, does not profess to be a Christian.
Nay, Miranda, said my father, there I know you are mistaken. You think he is no Christian because his father never goes to church : but I know Charles was christened, for I was at the christening; and, if I do not mistake, I was one of his godfathers. But observe, in this I will be obeyed : I have set my heart upon it, and there. fore I will not suffer you to dispute my authority : so