Loveg. Yes, I and Mr. Worthy were both with them. I remember when he first saw his son, till of late a fine, personable young man, but now so reduced; the tears began starting from his eyes, while he said to him “O my son! I am sorry your religious zeal was not more tempered with prudence, and then you might not have caught that dreadful fever, which has brought you to this present state: especially when you had such pleasing prospects of life before you." His reply was, “Yes, dear Sir, but I was in the way of duty;-duty called, and I obeyed; and that is my consolation. There was a time when I might have caught my death, as many others have, in dissipation and riot; what a mercy it is, that I am not now a martyr to my own folly, and sinful delights! You know, dear Sir, what I once was, even some time after I was in orders; till God was pleased to change my heart;-I blush for shame, to think of it.”—I was glad to hear the old man reply, "I am sorry, though I fear you have been running into another extreme, that I did not set you a better example;" then dropping a tear, said, “My child, I hope you'll forgive me." Mr. Merryman was now quite as much overcome as his father, and cried, "My dear father, I have prayed for your forgiveness a thousand times: and if you will allow to me to be so bold to express my feelings as a dying man, I perpetually pray that God in mercy would look upon you, and my dear mother and sisters, and change your hearts." The weeping parent immediately added, "If you can pray for me, I must confess, that, as yet, I never prayed for myself."

Bri. This must have been enough to upset you all. Loveg. Indeed, Sir, it was; and I took the opportunity to enforce the nature and necessity of a divine change, so strongly exemplified in the conduct of his dying son. And, after this, I remember a hard fit of coughing for a while interrupted the conversation, when Mr. Merryman again thus addressed his father: "Fa

ther, this cannot last long; I know I am soon to die; but still you need not grieve over me; for at times I feel more happiness and joy than words can express;" adding, “I have a hope full of immortality,' believing in Christ, who has changed my heart and pardoned all my sins, I can rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory.'" The fixed attention of the father enabled the son to proceed, by assuring him that there is a divine reality in religion, which, with his dying lips, he humbly entreated him seriously to consider, as the greatest blessing God can give, or the soul of man can possibly enjoy, and as the only cordial that can support the soul when sinking into the arms of death; begging, with many tears, that he would recommend the same to his dear mother and sisters, while he made it his last request to them, to seek for the salvation of their souls.

Bri. The Father must have been considerably affected by such an exhortation.

Loveg. Very much, indeed. But what he next added was still more so. It is impossible to tell how he uttered his grief respecting his disconsolate flock, which he was about to leave, and how he entreated his father, that if possible, he would prevail with his brother not to give the living away to a man who was as bad as he himself once was, before he was better taught. That he had heard that a Mr. Tugwell was already designed as his successor; and that the consequence would be most distressing. That though he was now surprised how the few people who attended the church before he knew better could be so ignorant as to come there, when his example was so bad, and his conversation so light and frothy; but that now it was quite otherwise; for that if another minister should come, of the same stamp as he once was, they would leave the Church directly, and provide for themselves another place of worship, that they might have a minister of their own choosing, who

would hold forth to them the word of life and teach them in the fear of God.

Wor. And how we were all affected when he added, "Though I have reason to bless the kind providence of God, that has led me into this family, whereby the best of wives has been put into my bosom, and (addressing himself to me) while no son of your own, dear Sir, could have been treated with more affection than that which, as an adopted son, I have ever received from you, yet this my dear wife I can with submission render back again into her parents' hands; while I am satisfied that our dear little infant, after my departure, will ever be considered as one of your own; concerning all these earthly sacrifices I think I can say, 'Thy will be done.' But O my dear flock! I love them as my own soul; I cannot express how 'I yearn over them all in the bowels of Jesus Christ;' and how I am pained at the thought that they should be given over to one who has no spiritual concern for their eternal good."

Loveg. I was glad to see his father so much affected at his son's entreaties, which drew from him the strongest promises and engagements that if he could not prevail with his uncle to refuse the living to his friend and distant relation Mr. Tugwell; yet as he had other preferments he would try if it could be so contrived that a Curate might be settled among them who would be a future blessing to the disconsolate congregation.

Spri. Yes, Sir, and I can tell you something further; one of the last offices I ever performed for our dear departed friend was, to write a letter to his uncle for him, (he being too weak to do any thing but sign it,) urging the same request in the most affectionate terms. Dear man, how he wept and prayed all the time I wrote it; and since then several of us in the town have drawn up a respectful petition, requesting the same, mentioning you, Sir, [To Mr. Brightman] as the object of our choice, and

that we shall not regard any extra expence provided we can but see you comfortably settled among us.

Bri. Can there be a probability of that sort? There is not a man more careless and unconcerned about religious matters than he is said to be. I have been turned out of two curacies already, and I shall soon be dismissed from the third; perhaps for decency's sake I may be permitted to remain a Sunday or two, and then be discharged.

Loveg. Ah, Sir! you have but the common lot of most faithful curates, who have ungodly Rectors; but from the carelessness and indifference of old Mr. Merryman, and his pot companion, Mr. Tugwell, I draw a contrary conclusion; they will not care who serves the church, provided they can be left at their ease, and Mr. Tugwell can enjoy the tithes.

Wor. And we sha'nt mind paying his Curate for him, provided he will keep at a distance.

Bri. But wo'nt 'Squire Madcap do all he can to prevent it?

Spri. He is so wicked, wild, and foolish, that no one minds him. There is therefore very little harm to be dreaded from that quarter. But if he or any one else of the same stamp should be sent among us, we must provide for ourselves.

Wor. I shall help you immediately to see to that, by beginning with a donation of five hundred pounds, and shall give an annual subscription towards the support of the place as soon it is established; and there is no law against reading the liturgy of the established Church, which we all admire.

Spri. O Sir, a thousand thanks for your encouraging offer. I hope we shall all be eager to lend a helping hand; surely the many prayers our dear departed minister offered up that the gospel might be continued among us will somehow be answered for our good.

Loveg. I am sorry I shall be debarred from taking an active part in this work, if the gospel is to be turned out of the Church. But I really have no patience with the absurdity of those who tell us we should be contented without the gospel in the pulpit, as we are sure to have it in the reading desk; while the grand efficient means, which God is pleased to bless, is the preaching of the word. Something therefore must be done, and the Lord give wisdom and zeal that it may be properly and wisely done.

Just then the disconsolate widow and Mrs. Worthy reentered the room; this naturally gave another turn to the conversation, but in a few days the reader may expect a joyful termination of this melancholy event,