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is as rare as the sight of an elephant, and is worth a shilling. Pray, Mr. M., will you give me as much credit for the character of St. Paul, as I have given you for that of Mr. P.? M. Perhaps may, as soon as I have reason to know you, and you to know St. Paul, as well as I do honest P. O. Well, keep your shilling till you do, at which time, I fear, a shilling will be as much a medal with you, as it is now with me. P. Lord forbid. O. I would say, amen, if I durst pray for such a miracle. The little estate mentioned, most agreeably situated, as to prospects and adjacencies, makes a part of Mr. O.'s small parish. This worthy clergyman, with a handsome collection of books, both religious and entertaining, owes his living to the interest of Mr. M. in the days of his worldly prosperity. Thither Mr. and Mrs. M., glad to get out of the place of their fall, hurry as fast as they can, with their son and daughter, both very young, and with their friend Mr. O. In this asylum, their vanity and passion for luxury soon subside, and their religious principles, aided by the conversation of Mr. O. take an early lead in their minds; and they begin to aspire to an infinitely higher grandeur, than that from whence they had been precipitated. They now no longer say they have fallen, but maintain, they have risen in the true sense of the word. In this state of tranquillity, the culture of their own minds, and that of their children, well supplies the place of that attendance they wasted on people, alive only to their appetites and bellies, on interested expectants, on designing flatterers, on gamblers, and false friends. The improvement of their garden, and of the adjacent lands, hitherto long neglected, carries them out to healthful air and exercise, in a scene every day growing more and more beautiful by their attention to it and Millar's Dictionary. These produce a species of happiness never tasted at the courts of this world, and known only to the candidates for that of heaven. Here reason and religion have leave to speak; and here God is seen in his works, and heard in his word. Here the parents learn humility, simplicity, and industry; and instil them into their children, with no other ambition, than that of aiming at true glory, honour, and immortality.' The parishioners, old and young, of Mr. O. consider and love him as their father. He and Mrs. O. are their only physicians. When they come to the glebe-house, whether with, or without a little basket of fresh eggs, or a sucking pig, they are sure of a glass of good cider or made-wine, with a cordial inquiry about their families and their affairs. On the Lord's-day

there is no one absent from his house, who is able to go thither; nor does any one so much as think of absenting himself from his table, if above the age of fifteen. Mr. and Mrs. M. with the parson and his wife, all musical, sing the psalms as loud as they can roar; so do all the parishioners, previously well instructed by their good minister, and his wife. Among these there is a poor Irish labouring man, who always throws himself on his belly, upon the flags, just within the church door, and in that posture continues during the whole service and sermon. Finding him tenacious of this posture, Mr. O. caused him to lay a matt under his breast; Mr. and Mrs. M. having early inquired the meaning of this, had an answer from Mr. O. Poor Ben Blatal, the son of a rich farmer in the north of Ireland, at the age of twenty-five, found himself possessed, in right of himself and his wife, of about a thousand pounds. Tempted by this fund, he gave himself entirely up to drinking strong beer and spirits. This practice swelled him to a most enormous size; dyed his face, at first in scarlet, and then in purple; nor was it long before the gout confined him during the greater part of every year, in the most excruciating pains. His vice soon became his only medicine, and he drank to keep the gout from his stomach. But at the age of thirty, he had not left himself worth a single shilling. At this period of his life, poverty cured him at once of his vice, his distemper, and of his bloated belly, and restored to him the use of his limbs. It did more. It forced him to take a spade into his hands, and hire himself out as a day-labourer. He declares, he never knew what happiness was till then. He fled hither from the people who knew him; and I, as soon as I knew him, offered him the key of my church, which he refused, because, as he said, having lived five years in the tent of sin, he was not worthy to become a door-keeper in the house of God. My parishioners and I then gave the key to his grandson, a fine boy, whom you may have seen sitting beside him in church, and often weeping over him. How apropos to you and me! said Mrs. M. to her husband. So apropos, said Mr. M. that if you dwell a little longer on the affecting subject, I do not know, but I may prostrate myself beside him in the church. I should not object to your so doing, said Mr. O. if God and my people had not a more important service for you in his house. Your business there, beside the services peculiar to yourself, is to stand fast in the faith, and by your example to lead my poor flock in the way they should go. Mr. M. I will take

him into my garden, and into my heart. Mr. O. Do so. He is now five-and-forty; but he does as much work as two English labourers. He digs with either foot, and with either hand foremost on the spade-shaft, which, he says, is to him almost as refreshing as rest. This is a practice not known to other labourers. Mr. M. A most marvellous man! I will make something of his grandson. Mr. O. Ben will not suffer him to be raised in the world, nor made rich. It is a maxim with him, that no man can be safely trusted with riches. The boy can read, write, cipher, and sing psalms, to the full as well as any one of his age in Great Britain. A novel of this kind, and conducted after some such manner as this, by a genius fertile in incidents and in matter for suitable conversations on particular occasions (which I submit merely as a hint, rather than even a sketch), might, I think, be extremely entertaining, and highly instructive. I know the story of Ben Blatal to be literally true, while the scene of it lies in Ireland; but the name I give him is fictitious.

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