Great his offence, and evil was his mind,-
But he had suffer'd, and she would be kind :
She spurn'd such baseness, and she found
within

A fair acquittal from so foul a sin;

Yet she too err'd, and must of Heaven expect
To be rejected, him should she reject."

Susan was summon'd; “I'm about to do
A foolish act, in part seduced by you;
Go to the creature, say that I intend,
Foe to his sins, to be his sorrow's friend;
Take, for his present comforts, food and wine,
And mark his feelings at this act of mine:
Observe if shame be o'er his features spread,
By his own victim to be soothed and fed;
But, this inform him, that it is not love
That prompts my heart, that duties only move:
Say, that no merits in his favour plead,
But miseries only, and his abject need ;

Nor bring me grovelling thanks, nor high-flown praise ;

I would his spirits, not his fancy raise;
Give him no hope that I shall ever more
A man so vile to my esteem restore;
But warn him rather, that, in time of rest,
His crimes be all remember'd and confess'd:
I know not all that form the sinner's debt,
But there is one that he must not forget."

The mind of Susan prompted her with speed
To act her part in every courteous deed:
All that was kind she was prepared to say,
And keep the lecture for a future day;
When he had all life's comforts by his side,
Pity might sleep, and good advice be tried.

This done, the mistress felt disposed to look,
As self-approving, on a pious book:
Yet, to her native bias still inclined,
She felt her act too merciful and kind;
But when, long musing on the chilling scene
So lately past-the frost and sleet so keen-
The man's whole misery in a single view-
Yes! she could think some pity was his due.

Thus fix'd, she heard not her attendant glide With soft slow step-till, standing by her side, The trembling servant gasp'd for breath, and shed

Relieving tears, then utter'd-" He is dead!"

"Dead!" said the startled lady. "Yes, he

fell

ib. act. ii. sc. 1. COUNTER and CLUBB were men in trade, whose pains,

Credit, and prudence, brought them constant gains;
Partners and punctual, every friend agreed
Counter and Clubb were men who must succeed.
When they had fix'd some little time in life,
Each thought of taking to himself a wife;
As men in trade alike, as men in love
They seem'd with no according views to move;
As certain ores in outward view the same,
They show'd their difference when the magnet

came.

Counter was vain: with spirit strong and high,
"Twas not in him like suppliant swain to sigh:
"His wife might o'er his men and maids preside,
And in her province be a judge and guide;
But what he thought, or did, or wish'd to do,
She must not know, or censure if she knew;
At home, abroad, by day, by night, if he
On aught determined, so it was to be:
How is a man," he ask'd, " for business fit,
Who to a female can his will submit?
Absent a while, let no inquiring eye
Or plainer speech presume to question why,
But all be silent; and, when seen again,
Let all be cheerful;-shall a wife complain?
Friends I invite, and who shall dare t' object.
Or look on them with coolness or neglect?
No! I must ever of my house be head,
And, thus obey'd, I condescend to wed."
Clubb heard the speech-" My friend is nice,"
said he ;

A wife with less respect will do for me: How is he certain such a prize to gain? What he approves, a lass may learn to feign, And so affect t' obey, till she begins to reign;

food?"

"No! crusts and water in a corner stood ;-
To have this plenty, and to wait so long,
And to be right too late, is doubly wrong:
Then, every day to see him totter by,
And to forbear-O! what a heart had I!"

"Blame me not, child; I tremble at the news.' ""Tis my own heart," said Susan, “I accuse: To have this money in my purse-to know What grief was his, and what to grief we owe : To see him often, always to conceive

How he must pine and languish, groan and grieve;

And every day in ease and peace to dine,
And rest in comfort!-what a heart is mine!"

And be as wives of more unwary men ;
Besides, to him who plays such lordly part
How shall a tender creature yield her heart?
Should he the promised confidence refuse,
She may another more confiding choose;
May show her anger, yet her purpose hide,
And wake his jealousy, and wound his pride.
In one so humbled, who can trace the friend?
I on an equal, not a slave, depend;
If true, my confidence is wisely placed,
And being false, she only is disgraced."

Clubb, with these notions, cast his eye around,
And one so easy soon a partner found.
The lady chosen was of good repute ;
Meekness she had not, and was seldom mute;

Thougn quick to anger, still she loved to smile;
And would be calm if men would wait a while.
She knew her duty, and she loved her way,
More pleased in truth to govern than obey;
She heard her priest with reverence, and her spouse
As one who felt the pressure of her vows;
Useful and civil, all her friends confess'd,
Give her her way, and she would choose the best;
Though some, indeed, a sly remark would make,
Give it her not, and she would choose to take.
All this, when Clubb some cheerful months had
spent,

He saw, confess'd, and said he was content.

Counter meantime selected, doubted, weigh'd,
And then brought home a young complying maid;
A tender creature, full of fears as charms,
A beauteous nursling from its mother's arms;
A soft, sweet blossom, such as men must love,
But to preserve must keep it in the stove:
She had a mild, subdued, expiring look-
Raise but the voice, and this fair creature shook;
Leave her alone, she felt a thousand fears-
Chide, and she melted into floods of tears;
Fondly she pleaded, and would gently sigh,
For very pity, or she knew not why;
One whom to govern none could be afraid-
Hold up the finger, this meek thing obey'd;
Her happy husband had the easiest task-
Say but his will, no question would she ask;
She sought no reasons, no affairs she knew,
Of business spoke not, and had naught to do.
Oft he exclaim'd, "How meek! how mild! how
kind!

With her 'twere cruel but to seem unkind;
Though ever silent when I take my leave,
It pains my heart to think how hers will grieve;
"Tis heaven on earth with such a wife to dwell,
I am in raptures to have sped so well;
But let me not, my friend, your envy raise,
No! on my life, your patience has my praise."

His friend, though silent, felt the scorn implied, "What need of patience?" to himself he cried : Better a woman o'er her house to rule,

46

flamed;

"But we are friends; let smaller stake be named:
Wine for our future meeting, that will I
Take, and no more-what peril shall we try?"
'Let's to Newmarket," Clubb replied; " or choose
Yourself the place, and what you like to lose ;
And he who first returns, or fears to go,
"Be it so."
Forfeits his cash-" Said Counter,
The friends around them saw with much delight
The social war, and hail'd the pleasant night;
Nor would they further hear the cause discuss'd,
Afraid the recreant heart of Clubb to trust.

Now sober thoughts return'd as each withdrew, And of the subject took a serious view:

""Twas wrong," thought Counter, "and will
grieve my love."

""Twas wrong," thought Clubb, "my wife will not approve:

But friends were present; I must try the thing,
Or with my folly half the town will ring."

He sought his lady; "Madam, I'm to blame, But was reproach'd, and could not bear the shame; Herein my folly-for 'tis best to say

The very truth-I've sworn to have my way:
To that Newmarket-(though I hate the place,
And have no taste or talents for a race,
Yet so it is-well, now prepare to chide)-
I laid a wager that I dared to ride;
And I must go by Heaven, if you resist
I shall be scorn'd, and ridiculed, and hiss'd;
Let me with grace before my friends appear,
You know the truth, and must not be severe ;
He too must go, but that he will of course;
Do you consent?-I never think of force."

"You never need," the worthy dame replied. "The husband's honour is the woman's pride;

TALE XIX.

THE CONVERT.

-A tapster is a good trade, and an old cloak makes a new jerkin; a wither'd serving-man, a fresh tapster. Merry Wives of Windsor, act i. sc. 3. A fellow, sir, that I have known go about with my troll-my-dames. Winter's Tale, act iv. sc. 2. -I myself, sometimes leaving the fear of Heaven on the left hand, and holding mine honour in my necessity, am forced to shuffle, to hedge, and to lurch.

Merry Wives of Windsor, act ii. sc. 2.

Yea, and at that very moment,
Consideration like an angel came,
And whipp'd th' offending Adam out of him.
Henry V. act i. sc. 1.

I have lived long enough: My May of life
Is fall'n into the sere, the yellow leaf;
And that which should accompany old age,
As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,
I must not look to have.

Macbeth, act v. sc. 3.

SOME to our hero have a hero's name
Denied, because no father's he could claim;
Nor could his mother with precision state
A full fair claim to her certificate;
On her own word the marriage must depend-
A point she was not eager to defend :
But who, without a father's name, can raise
His own so high, deserves the greater praise:
The less advantage to the strife he brought,
The greater wonders has his prowess wrought;
He who depends upon his wind and limbs,
Needs neither cork nor bladder when he swims;
Nor will by empty breath be puff'd along,
As not himself-but in his helpers-strong.
Suffice it then, our hero's name was clear,
For, call John Dighton, and he answer'd, "Here!"
But who that name in early life assign'd
He never found, he never tried to find;
Whether his kindred were to John disgrace,
Or John to them, is a disputed case;
His infant state owed nothing to their care-
His mind neglected, and his body bare;
All his success must on himself depend,
He had no money, counsel, guide, or friend;
But in a market town an active boy
Appear'd, and sought in various ways employ;
Who soon, thus cast upon the world, began
To show the talents of a thriving man.

To all in turn full he allegiance swore,
And in his hat the various badges bore:
His liberal soul with every sect agreed,
Unheard their reasons, he received their creed;
At church he deign'd the organ pipes to fill,
And at the meeting sang both loud and shrill :
But the full purse these different merits gain'd,
By strong demands his lively passions drain'd;
Liquors he loved of each inflaming kind,
To midnight revels flew with ardent mind;
Too warm at cards, a losing game he play'd,
To fleecing beauty his attention paid;
His boiling passions were by oaths express'd,
And lies he made his profit and his jest.

Such was the boy, and such the man had been,
But fate or happier fortune changed the scene;
A fever seized him, " He should surely die-"
He fear'd, and lo! a friend was praying by ;
With terror moved, this teacher he address'd,
And all the errors of his youth confess'd:
The good man kindly clear'd the sinner's way
To lively hope, and counsell'd him to pray;
Who then resolved, should he from sickness rise,
To quit cards, liquors, poaching, oaths, and lies:
His health restored, he yet resolved, and grew
True to his masters, to their meeting true :
His old companions at his sober face
Laugh'd loud, while he, attesting it was grace,
With tears besought them all his calling to em-
brace:

To his new friends such converts gave applause,
Life to their zeal, and glory to their cause:
Though terror wrought the mighty change, yet
strong

Was the impression, and it lasted long;
John at the lectures due attendance paid,
A convert meek, obedient, and afraid.
His manners strict, though form'd on fear alone,
Pleased the grave friends, nor less his solemn
tone,

The lengthen'd face of care, the low and inward

groan :

The stern good men exulted, when they saw
Those timid looks of penitence and awe;
Nor thought that one so passive, humble, meek,
Had yet a creed and principles to seek.

The faith that reason finds, confirms, avows,
The hopes, the views, the comforts she allows-
These were not his, who by his feelings found,
And by them only, that his faith was sound;
Feelings of terror these, for evil past,
Feelings of hope, to be received at last;

brave,

And in both senses was a ready knave:
Knave as of old, obedient, keen, and quick,
Knave as at present, skill'd to shift and trick;
Some humble part of many trades he taught,
He for the builder and the painter wrought;
For serving maids on secret errands ran,
The waiter's helper, and the hostler's man;

lose,

His varying genius shone in blacking shoes:

A midnight fisher by the pond he stood,
Assistant poacher, he o'erlook'd the wood;
At an election John's impartial mind
Was to no cause nor candidate confined;

Such bridge is reason, and there faith relies,
Whether the varying spirits fall or rise.

His patrons, still disposed their aid to lend, Behind a counter placed their humble friend; Where pens and paper were on shelves display'd, And pious pamphlets on the windows laid;

By nature active and from vice restrain'd,
Increasing trade his bolder views sustain'd;
His friends and teachers, finding so much zeal
In that young convert whom they taught to feel,
His trade encouraged, and were pleased to find
A hand so ready, with such humble mind.

And now, his health restored, his spirits eased,
He wish'd to marry, if the teachers pleased.
They, not unwilling, from the virgin class
Took him a comely and a courteous lass;
Simple and civil, loving and beloved,
She long a fond and faithful partner proved;
In every year the elders and the priest
Were duly summon'd to a christening feast;
Nor came a babe, but by his growing trade,
John had provision for the coming made :

And growing pride in Dighton's mind was bred By the strange food on which it coarsely fed.

'Their brother's fall the grieving brethren heard, The pride indeed to all around appear'd; The world, his friends agreed, had won the soul From its best hopes, the man from their control: To make him humble, and confine his views Within their bounds, and books which they peruse; A deputation from these friends select, Might reason with him to some good effect; Arm'd with authority, and led by love,

They might those follies from his mind remove; Deciding thus, and with this kind intent,

A chosen body with its speaker went.

46

With one whose care was equal to his zeal.

In human friendship, it compels a sigh,

To think what trifles will dissolve the tie. John, now become a master of his trade,

Satan with toils thy simple soul beset,
And thou art careless, slumbering in the net;
Unmindful art thou of thy early vow?
Who at the morning meeting sees thee now?

And as this prospect open'd to his view,
A certain portion of his zeal withdrew;
His fear abated-" What had he to fear-
His profits certain, and his conscience clear?"
Above his door a board was placed by John,
And, "Dighton, stationer," was gilt thereon;
His window next, enlarged to twice the size,
Shone with such trinkets as the simple prize;
While in the shop with pious works were seen
The last new play, review, or magazine :

In orders punctual, he observed-" The books
He never read, and could he judge their looks?
Readers and critics should their merits try,
He had no office but to sell and buy ;
Like other traders, profit was his care;
Of what they print, the authors must beware."
He held his patrons and his teachers dear,
But with his trade-they must not interfere.

"Twas certain now that John had lost the dread And pious thoughts that once such terrors bred; His habits varied, and he more inclined To the vain world, which he had half resign'd: He had moreover in his brethren seen, Or he imagined, craft, conceit, and spleen; "They are but men," said John, "and shall I then Fear man's control, or stand in awe of men? 'Tis their advice, (their convert's rule and law,) And good it is-I will not stand in awe."

Moreover Dighton, though he thought of books As one who chiefly on the title looks, Yet sometimes ponder'd o'er a page to find, When vex'd with cares, amusement for his mind; And by degrees that mind had treasured much From works his teachers were afraid to touch: Satiric novels, poets bold and free, And what their writers term philosophy; All these were read, and he began to feel Some self-approval on his bosom steal. Wisdom creates humility, but he Who thus collects it will not humble be: No longer John was fill'd with pure delight And humble reverence in a pastor's sight; Who, like a grateful zealot, listening stood, To hear a man so friendly and so good; But felt the dignity of one who made Himself important by a thriving trade;

We ask-are answer'd, To the tavern gone :
Thee on the Sabbath seldom we behold;
Thou canst not sing, thou'rt nursing for a cold;
This from the churchmen thou hast learn'd, for they
Have colds and fevers on the Sabbath day;
When in some snug warm room they sit, and pen
Bills from their ledgers, (world entangled men!)
"See with what pride thou hast enlarged thy shop;
To view thy tempting stores the heedless stop;
By what strange names dost thou these baubles
know,

Which wantons wear, to make a sinful show?
Hast thou in view these idle volumes placed,
To be the pander of a vicious taste?
What's here? a book of dances !-you advance
In goodly knowledge-John, wilt learn to dance?
How! Go!' it says, and to the devil go!
And shake thyself!' I tremble-but 'tis so-
Wretch as thou art, what answer canst thou make?
O! without question thou wilt go and shake.
What's here? the School for Scandal'-pretty

schools!

Well, and art thou proficient in the rules?
Art thou a pupil, is it thy design

To make our names contemptible as thine?
Old Nick, a novel! O! 'tis mighty well;
A fool has courage when he laughs at hell;
Frolic and Fun,' the humours of Tim Grin;'
Why, John, thou grow'st facetious in thy sin;
And what? th' Archdeacon's Charge '-'tis
mighty well-

If Satan publish'd, thou wouldst doubtless sell;
Jests, novels, dances, and this precious stuff,
To crown thy folly we have seen enough;
We find thee fitted for each evil work-

Do print the Koran, and become a Turk.