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perfections-he becomes great, by gazing upon Immeasurable Greatness-he becomes, in a measure, "like" God, for he sees him "as he is." How little, on the contrary, those become who take the opposite course, may be fully ascertained by reading the following chapter.

CHAP. XIII.

JOURNAL OF A SELFISH AND DISAP-
POINTED MAN.

I HAVE promised the reader to exhibit in this chapter an example of the debasing influence of irreligion on the character. Ashamed am I to say, that the unfortunate creature to be thus exhibited is myself. It so chances, however, that I am released from the overwhelming task of delineating afresh my own deformities, by having found, tied up in a bundle of manuscript arguments against Christianity, the following page of a diary written at the period at which this history has now arrived. The reader, when he has examined this journal of about twelve hours of my life, will not fail to acknowledge my extraordinary candour in thus presenting it to him. It may fairly, I conceive,

have prefixed to it the title which stands at the head of this chapter.

Eight o'clock. Awoke, if it can be called awaking from that which is not sleepDreamt all night of unpleasant things-fancied myself sitting in my own carriage, which suddenly turned to a dirty cart-fancied Roger the butler treading on my toes, in his haste to make a bow to my aunt Rachel-fancied myself looking over the family title-deeds, which changed in a moment into college bills.

"Eight to nine. Tossed up and down in my bed-Could not find one single comfortable subject to think about.

"Ten. Breakfast alone-The sun very bright-the birds very noisy-both extremely troublesome-Scolded Roger for burning the toast. N. B. Roger never does right-Took down my aunt Rachel's picture from the wall in my study-no truth in physiognomy, other

wise aunt Rachel's picture could not be so very

agreeable.

"Eleven o'clock. Read from eleven to two Boileau's Satires-Satire very pleasant reading, especially when it cuts deep-vastly comfortable to know that men are not so good and wise as they seem.

"Two to three. Tried to satirize my aunt and the parson after the manner of Boileau; but failed, I believe, for the want of incident.

"Three o'clock. My aunt knocked at the door, and begged me to walk with her-refused roughly; but went out half an hour afterwards into a path in which she was sure to see meThe smell of the May and Lilacs quite overpowering-wish there were none-In very low spirits thought a good deal about my aunt Winifred's death-life bad-death worse-Aunt Rachel deluded, but happy in her ignorance. "Four o'clock. Saw my aunt walking with the old parson and his wife-am sure they

were talking of me-Parson very mild, but always preaches at me-preached last Sunday on the happiness of religion, on purpose to plague me-Nothing so vexatious as to be told that others are happy when we are not.

"Five o'clock. Dined with my aunt, the parson, and the lawyer-all looked suspiciously at me-Parson begged for his school-always begging, though I must say he gives largely himself.

"Seven o'clock. My aunt went away with the lawyer-suppose to plot, as before-Left alone with the parson did not like it-so very gentle, impossible to quarrel with him -All the parish, except the publicans, speak Iwell of him hate men whom every body praises

--

Parson

very talkative A weak man, seems to be pleased with every thingpraised the church, though he has only a poor vicarage-spoke kindly about my aunt Winifred, though she left him no legacy-all hypocrisy.

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