"I dived a little into politics, and found out the cause of war, and the older I grow, the more and more I am convinced that I know the true one." The party regarded me with attention. I looked at each,-"You, and you, and I," concluding with myself, and placing my hand on my breast, "have caused the war." "How do you make that out?" they exclaimed. "Sin," returned I, "brought death.-Sin brought those passions which cause war, such as envy, ambition, revenge and cruelty." "Granted," said Mr. Spade," but still we have nothing to do with making war, 'tis not our envy, ambition, cruelty, and revenge that has done it." "No truly," said I, " we have to be thankful that we have not had the power given us to make war. But we have all more or less made private war on one another, by our evil passions of one sort or another; and being, in common, sinners, all must expect to partake of the chastisements due to sinners: one of the heaviest of which inflicted in this world, is war. Instead of dwelling newspapers, which

on those parts of our public treat of debates and parliament-house quarrels, we had better turn to the battles and dreadful marches made by the destroying armies, whether victorious or vanquished, it makes little difference to the poor countries through which they march. Then grumble if you can at paying your taxes, instead of blood paid by millions of your fellow-sufferers, and be thankful for the half loaf given you, and

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denied them: or if you want to love your native land, go to London, and see the hospitals, the charities of every sort that can be named for the sick, the aged, the destitute, and the ignorant, and then wish, if you can, to murder, or rob those rich gentlemen, who are the supporters of them. Then look at the popish churches, and the impositions of their priests, the one holding forth every species of error for the support of the other, and learn to prize a church built on the foundation of prophets and apostles, and dread the power of an enemy, devoted to popish darkness."

As I spoke feelingly, I almost forgot my assumed eharacter, till I observed Mr. Spade sliding off his papers from the table into his pocket, evidently under the apprehension that I was some ministerial spy; my language, and I suppose my manner being above the journey-man bricklayer I appeared. The farmer too looked as if he knew not what to make of me when suddenly rushed in his boy, and looking in face exactly like the one, some of my readers may have heard of, sent to undraw, at the dead of the night, the curtains of a famous king, to acquaint him of a similar disaster, exclaimed, "Master, master, the great rick is all in a flame." "You dog, why did'nt you come sooner?** cried Farmer Grumbleton, starting from his seat, and running out of the Turk's head followed by all of us, even the landlord not staying us to demand

his payments. "My mistress would have sent," cried the boy, as he followed his master's heels, as soon as it began to smoke, which was just as you turned the corner of thirty acres, but she remembered how angry you were last time she sent for you, about letting the mare out of the pound.” The farmer abused in very profane terms his wife's want of distinction between a neighbour's payment of a few shillings, and his own loss of so many pounds. But as soon as he came in sight of his blazing property, he lost all bounds to his rage. This club was imprecated in the abuse, and he swore in the most tremendous terms, that he would never enter the Turk's-head again to sit longer than five minutes.

The inhabitants of the village were soon assembled to view the awful devastation, but I observed few were disposed, unbribed, to assist in stopping its fury. "Burn on," cried one, "'tis as well burnt as hoarded." "Aye," cried another, "he wont be able to outbid honest Tom Trylive, for the team next fair." While a third stood aloof exclaiming, "So'tis to be hated by one's neighbours!" The farmer in the mean while was dealing out his silver to some, and his promises more' liberally to others, till at length he gained sufficient help to prevent further mischief, than the destruction of his most valuable rick: and the villagers dispersed.

As it was now late in the evening, I resolved not to return home, and asked the Stone-mason if he knew of any house where I could sleep. He told me he had a room aloft in his own cottage, if I could lie on straw, with an old rug thrown over me. I readily assured him that would suffice: for I recollected he was Humphrey's cousin, and that circumstance made ine more desirous to cultivate his acquaintance. Humphrey too had said that the last fool had him, and this yielding temper was as favourable to the acquisition of wisdom as folly, should a wise man be the last to accost him. 1 therefore anticipated that my nightly residence at his cottage, might be productive of edification.

We found his wife standing at the door, afraid to leave her cottage and little ones, to take a nearer, view of the blazing hay-mow. The sight of a stranger with her husband, seemed to alarm her, especially when he acquainted her I was to sleep in the loft; and I heard her whisper him, "Is he sober?" "As a judge," replied he. The Mason then opened his cupboard-door, and laying two thick slices of fat bacon on two pieces of bread, gave me one, and began eating the other, with a relish unknown to those accustomed to more dainty fare I began to follow his example after offering part to my hostess, who declined acceptance, having she said eaten her supper an hour before. Seeing my bacon consume rather slowly, the

Mason proposed a large onion for a relish, and on my objecting, made another proposition, that his wife should run for a pot of beer. This I strenu

ously opposed, at which my hostess looked pleased and surprised. The latter sensation was not a little increased, when I asked if they had a Bible in their cottage, for that I always read a chapter before I went to rest. "A relation of ours, Humphrey Preach, as he's called," replied the wife, "gave us one when we married, but the children got at it, and have torn half of it out; what there is left, you are welcome to see;" reaching down about an hundred leaves without a cover from a high shelf, and covered with dust. As I took it out of her hand, I remarked I had once heard a

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plain speaking minister say, "The dust of your Bibles will rise up against you at the day of judgment." "God forbid." exclaimed she, evidently impressed by the strength of the expression. opened the leaves on the 5th chapter of St. Matthew, and read through the beatitudes aloud. I then closed the ragged pages. "A few verses at a time," said I, "well considered, is better than a great number gone through as a school-boy does his lesson. These blessings were pronounced by him who cannot lie. But you see they are made only to a certain description of people. Therefore we must examine ourselves to know whether we are of the description, before we must venture to apply them. Now, one of them seems to come