his heart! and how comfortable he and his wife live together!—and we might have been quite as happy as they, if it had not been through our own wicked natures, whereby we have been living in such perpetual and shameful neglect of all the ways of a holy life.—It was on this account, my dear wife, that I so frequently used you cruelly, and with so much unkind neglect; while I had to run after every abominable evil far and wide: but now I most humbly request your forgiveness for what is passed. And oh! that God would change both your heart and mine, that if we are permitted to live together again, we may live to see better days than ever we have seen yet.

"Though my life has been spared, yet my circumstances are ruined by my folly. Transportation, I confess, I well deserve and as to myself, I had rather be sent abroad, if I work as a slave, that I may get out of the reach of my wicked companions, lest I should be drawn into sin again, by those who can never cease from sin, till God shall change their hearts.

"Now, my dear wife, I would not wish to be so cruel as to desire you to go into banishment with me, unless I had some hope that God has so far given me to abhor my past life, that I shall not be permitted to return into my old ways of sin again, though I suppose I never can expect to see my own country again, as transportation for life, as my life is spared, is what I have reason to expect, and not less than I am sure I deserve.

"I am ashamed to desire you to consult with your Fa_ther, how far he would advise you to this step; no wonder if he should at once determine that you never should go with such an abominable wretch as I have been: nor will I ask it, but as during my future continuance in this land, I should give evidence that my repentance is sincere. But remember, my dear Patty, that you are my wife; and that if God, in great mercy, should bless us

both with his converting grace, as it is with your brother Henry and his wife, so you and I shall be in a measure happy wherever we may be sent.

"I have only one request further to make to you, my dear wife: I beseech you, at all times, go with your worthy Father to Brookfield Church: do not let your sister Polly keep you back; her laughing and scoffing at religion did me a deal of harm. Surely, dear Mr. Lovegood is one of the best men that ever lived, his exhortations and prayers among the poor prisoners, will never be forgotten: he appeared more like an angel than a man. [Here Mr. Lovegood cried, "I cannot stand all this," and was going to leave the room; Mr. Worthy stopped him by saying, there was scarcely a line more about him, as the letter was just finished ;] and by all accounts of his preaching in the assembly room, it had such an effect upon the people of the town, as never was known before; and they are very much grieved that all the Clergy did not ask him to preach in their Churches ; but I fear it was their wicked envy that prevented them, while the bad lives of too many of the Clergy, greatly hardened me in my wicked ways.

"Present him with my most dutiful respects; tell him I hope I shall never forget his good advice, to the day of my death; and believe me to be, my dear wife, though once your very cruel, yet now, I trust,

"Your truly penitent

"And affectionate husband,
"WILLIAM FROLIC."

Wor. Really, Sir, I should hope that the grace of God has reached the young man's heart after all. He confesses himself in language very becoming his situation.

Far. O Sir! what a mercy if the Lord has met with him at last. It cost me many a tear before I could read his letter through: to be sure, there is a wonderful dif

ference in the wild blade; nothing is too hard for the Lord. But I don't know what to say about my daughter's going with him into transportation: my poor wife is desperately afraid lest he should turn back again into his old ways, and then the poor girl would be miserable all the days of her life; for there she would have no one to stand her friend.

Consid. Very true, Mr. Littleworth; I would by no means determine upon any thing hastily. He has had enough to make him penitent for a while. If his repentance be genuine, it will be evidenced by his “bringing forth the fruits meet for repentance;" but I think much should depend upon the feelings of your daughter's own mind.

Far. Why, I believe the poor silly girl loved him very much, and that was the cause of all her troubles; and she would be willing to go with him, or if that would not be allowed, to follow him, if she could thoroughly depend upon it, that he is an altered man.

Consid. Under such circumstances, I would advise your daughter, by all means, to go with him: I think their separation from each other, might be attended with bad consequences. Besides, what is the way of duty? they are united for life; we have no right even to propose a separation, while they are willing to continue in connection with each other; and from his present broken and contrite state of mind, we have much reason to hope that his repentance may be sincere; and if God in mercy does the same for her, they will be happy all the world over.

Far. Though I should be sorry to have my daughter so far from home, if she has not been the child I could have wished, yet I know that he will be in much less danger, if he were to be sent abroad, than if he were to continue within the reach of his rakish companions about home; and he says the same in his letter to Patty.

Wor. But his staying in this country is quite out of the question: thank God, that his life has been spared; and what justice still demands, he well deserves: there is nothing left but that we do our best for him, till he is sent abroad, and by that time we shall better understand the real state of his mind, and shall be able to determine how far it may be advisable for your daughter to attend him, or not. [To Mr. Lovegood.] Come, Sir, let us have a little of your advice on this occasion-what makes you so silent?

Loveg. O Sir, what I only meant as private family service and prayer, I find by William Frolic's letter, is taken for public preaching all the town over: but if the people would come in, how could I prevent them?

Wor. What, are you frightened at Mr. Bellweather's letter? are you afraid of a citation to the spiritual court? or are you sorry you did so much good in the town?

Loveg. O Sir! I don't know what to say to it.

Consid. Sir, from your own good sense, you must be satisfied that mere places are all the same before the eternal God; and that there is no difference where good is done, provided it be done, whether in a ballroom, or a play-house, a meeting-house, a cathedral, or a barn.

Far. As our dear Minister preached with such wonderful success in the assembly-room, he shall be heartily welcome to preach in the large hall of our old house; and, if that won't hold the people, I have a rare large barn, that will hold half the Parish, for I am sure the generality of the people in our town, are in a desperate ignorant state; and Thomas Newman will be clerk; and pitch the tune, for he sings many a brave hymn, while he is thrashing.

Loveg. Sir, do let us wave the present conversation— we can hit upon a better subject.

Wor. What can be a better subject than the great good you did in preaching in the assembly-room? I am sure it was holy ground then, if it never was so before, when God was pouring down such an abundant blessing upon the hearers. But what do you mean by a better subject?

Loveg. Oh! the endearing conduct of Mr. Lovely.

Wor. Yes, you promised to tell us more of this, when you were obliged to leave us on Saturday evening last.

Mrs. Wor. I remember you left us full of expectation about him; I suppose it was some kind actions among the prisoners in the gaol.

Loveg. Why, Sir, while I was exhorting the prisoners, and praying with them, Mr. Lovely was very much struck with the young man I mentioned to you on Saturday, who was in prison for debt, and who seemed to be so much more affected than any of the rest. Immediately he made inquiry from the gaoler and others, respecting his circumstances: it seems his name was Hyde, and he discovered, that though he might have got forward in a profitable line of business, as a Currier, and was very decently educated, yet from a degree of misconduct, which arose more from thoughtlessness than intentional wickedness, and which had also laid him open to the villany of others, he was cast into prison by the cruelty of only one of his creditors, for a bond debt of a hundred pounds, and was thereby separated from his wife and four children, who were all obliged to live nearly a starving life, on a small jointure belonging to his wife's mother; and because she would not give up that to pay this mercenary creditor, he not only threw him into gaol, but was determined to keep him there,