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daughter would

pray for him, for that he was not in a condition to pray for himfelf, though he found nothing else could give him any comfort. His deep dejection brought on a fit of sickness : O ! said he, I now begin to feel an expression in the facrament which I used to repeat without thinking it had any meaning, the “ remembrance of my fins is grievous, the burthen of them is intolerable." o, it is awful to think what a finner a man may be, and yet retain a decent character! How many thousands are in my condition, taking to themselves all the credit of their prosperity, instead of giving God the glory! Heaping up riches to their hurt, instead of dealing their bread to the hungry. O, let those who hear of the Bragwell family, never say that vanity is a little fin. In me it has been the fruitful parent of a thousand sins, selfishness, hardness of heart, forgetfulness of God. In one of my fons, vanity was the cause of rapine, injustice, extravagance, ruin, self-murder. Both my daughters were undone by vanity, though it only wore the more harmless shape of dress, idleness, and dissipation. The husband of my daughter Incle it destroyed, by leading him to live above his ftation, and to despise labor. Vanity ensnared the souls even of his pious parents; for while it led them to wish to see their son in a better condition, it led them to allow him such indulgences as were unfit for his own. O, you who hear of us, humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God; relift high thoughts; let every imagination be brought into obedience to the Son of God. If you set a value on finery, look into that grave; behold the mouldering body of my Betsey, who now says to “Corruption, thou art my father, and to the worm thou art my mother and my sister.” Look at the bloody and brainless head of her husband. O, Mr. Worthy, how does Providence mock at human forefight! I have been greedy of gain, that the son of Mr. Squeeze might be a great man; he is dead; while the child of Timothy Incle, whom I had doomed to beggary, will be my heir.

Mr. Worthy, to you I commit this boy's education; teach him to value his immortal foul more, and the good things of this life less, than I have done. Bring him up in the fear of God, and in the government of his passions. Teach him that un belief and pride are at the root of all sin. I have found this to my cost. I trusted in my riches; I said, to-morrow shall be as this day and more abundant. I did not remember that "for all these things God would bring me to judgment.” I am not sure that I believed in a judgment.

Bragwell at length grew better, but he never recovered his spirits. The conduct of Mrs. Incle through life was that of an humble Chriftian. She sold all her sister's finery which her father had given her, and gave the money to the poor, saying, it did not become one who professed penitence, to return to the gaieties of life. Mr. Bragwell did not oppose this; not that he had fully acquired a just notion of the self-denying spirit of religion, but having a head not very clear at making distinctions, he was never able, after the sight of Squeeze's mangled body, to think of gaiety and grandeur, without thinking at the same time, of a pistol and bloody brains ; for, as his first introduction into gay life had presented him with all these objects at one view, he never afterwards could separate them in his mind. He even kept his fine beaufet of plate always shut, because it brought to his mind the grand unpaid for sideboard that he had seen laid out for Mr. Squeeze's supper, to the remembrance of which he could not help tacking debts, prisons, executions, and self-murder.

Mr. Bragwell's heart had been so buried in the love of the world, and evil habits were become fo rooted in him, that the progrefs he made in religion was very flow; yet he earnestly prayed and struggled against vanity ; and when his unfeeling wife declared she could not love the boy unless he was called by their name instead of Incle, Mr. Bragwell would never consent, saying he stood in need of every help against pride. He also got the letter which Squeeze wrote just before he shot himself framed and glazed ; this he hung up in his chamber, and made it a rule to go and read it as often as he found his heart disposed to VANITY.




AN ALLEGORY. METHOUGHT I was once upon a time travelling through a certain land which was very full of people, but what was rather odd, not one of all this multitude was at home; they were all bound to a far diftant country. Though it was permitted by the Lord of the land that these Pilgrims might associate together for their prefent mutual comfort and convenience ; and each was not only allowed, but commanded to do the others all the services he could upon their journey, yet it was decreed, that every indivi. dual traveller must enter the far country singly. There was a great gulf at the end of the journey which every one must pass alone, and at his own risk, and the friendship of the whole united world could be of no use in shooting that gulf. The exact time when each was to pass was not known to any ; this the Lord always kept a close {ecret out of kindness, yet still they were as sure that the time'must come, and that at no very great distance, as if they had been informed of the very moment. Now, as they knew they were always liable to be called away at an hour's notice, one would have thought they would have been chiefly employed in packing up, and preparing, and getting every thing in order. Noe

they indeed. It was almost the only thing which they did not think about.

Now I only appeal to you, my readers, if any of you are setting out upon a little com-mon journey, if it is only to London or York, is not all your leisure time employed in settling your business at home, and packing up every little necessary for your expedition ? And does not the fear of neglecting any thing you ought to remember, or may have occasion for, haunt your mind; and sometimes even intrude upon you unseasonably? And when you are actually on your journey, especially if you have never been to that place before, or are likely to remain there, don't you begin to think a little about the pleasures and the employments of the place, and to wish to know a little what sort of a city London or York is ? Don't you wonder what is doing there, and whether you are properly qualified for the business or the company you expect to be engaged in ? Do you never look at the map, or consult Brookef's Gazetteer? and don't you try to pick up

fellowpassengers in the stage coach any little information you can get? And though you may be oblig. ed out of civility, to converse with them.on common subjects, yet do not your secret thoughts still run upon London or York, its business, or its pleasures ? And above all, if you are likely to set out early, are yoii not afraid of overfleeping, and does not that fear keep you upon the watch, so that you are commonly up and

from your

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