soon procured the assistance of a labourer, who happened to pass by, to help him to carry the mother, and Mrs. Fantom carried the little shivering baby.

As soon as they were safely lodged, Mr. Trueman set off in search of poor Jenkins, who was distressed to know what was become of his wife and child; for having heard that they were seen going towards Mr. Fantom's, he despaired of any assistance from that quarter. Mr. Trueman felt no small satisfaction in uniting this poor man to his little family. There was something very moving in this meeting, and in the pious gratitude they expressed for their deliverance. They seemed to forget they had lost their all, in the joy they felt that they had not lost each other. And some disdainful great ones might have smiled to see so much rapture expressed at the safety of a child born to no inheritance but poverty. These are among the feelings with which Providence sometimes overpays the want of wealth. The good people also poured out prayers and blessings on their deliverer, who, not being a philosopher, was no more ashamed of praying with them than he had been of working for them. Mr. Trueman, while assisting at the fire, had heard that Jenkins and his wife were both very honest and very pious people; so he told them he would not only pay for their new lodging, but undertake to raise a little subscription among his friends at the Cat and Bagpipes towards rebuilding their cottage; and farther engaged, that if they would promise to bring up the child in the fear of God, he would stand godfather.

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This exercise of Christian charity had given such a cheerful flow to Mr. Trueman's spirits, that long before he got home he had lost every trace of ill-humour. "Well, Mr. Fantom," said he gaily, as he opened the door," now do tell me how you could possibly refuse going to help me to put out the fire at poor Jenkins's?" Because," said Fantom, "I was engaged, Sir, in a far nobler project than putting out a fire in a little thatched cottage. Sir, I was contriving to put out a fire too; a conflagration of a far more dreadful kind—a fire, Sir, in the extinction of which universal man is concerned: I was contriving a scheme to extinguish the fires of the inquisition."-" Why, man, they don't blaze that I know of," returned Trueman. "I own, that of all the abominable engines which the devil ever invented to disgrace religion and plague mankind, that inquisition was the very worst. But I do not believe that Popery has ventured at these diabolical tricks since the earthquake at Lisbon. So that a bucket of real water, carried to the real fire of Jenkins's cottage, would have done more good than a wild plan to put out an imaginary flame which no longer burns. And let me tell you, Sir, dreadful as that evil was, God can send his judgments on other sins besides superstition: so it behoves us to take heed of the other extreme, or we may have our earthquakes too. The hand of God is not shortened,' Sir, that it cannot destroy, any more than that it cannot save.' In the mean time, I must repeat it; you and I are rather called upon to save a neighbour from perishing in the flames of his house, just under our own window, than to write about the fires of the Inquisition; which, if fear, or shame, or the restoration of common sense, had not already put out, would have hardly received a check from such poor hands as you and I."

"Sir," said Mr. Fantom," Jenkins is an impertinent fellow; and I owe him a grudge, because he says he had rather forfeit the favour of the best master in England than work in my garden on a Sunday. And when I ordered him to read the Age of Reason, instead of going to church, he refused to work for me at all, with some impertinent hint about God and Mammon."

“Oh, did he so?" said Mr. Trueman. "Now I will stand godfather to his child, and make him a handsome present into the bargain. Indeed, Mr. Fantom, a man must be a philosopher with a vengeance, if, when he sees a house on fire, he stays to consider whether the owner has offended him. Oh, Mr. Fantom, I will forgive you still, if you will produce me, out of all your philosophy, such a sentence as 'Love your enemydo good to them that hate you-if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink;' I will give up the blessed Gospel for the Age of Reason, if you will only bring me one sentiment equivalent to this."

Next day Mr. Trueman was obliged to go to London on business, but returned soon, as the time he had allotted to spend with Mr. Fantom was not yet elapsed. He came down the sooner, indeed, that he might bring a small sum of money which the gentlemen at the Cat and Bagpipes had cheerfully subscribed for Jenkins. Trueman did not forget to desire his wife to make up also a quantity of clothing for this poor family, to which he did not neglect to add a parcel of good books, which indeed always made a part of his charities; as he used to say, there was something cruel in that kindness which was anxious to relieve the bodies of men, but was negligent of their souls. He stood in person to the newborn child, and observed with much pleasure that Jenkins and his wife thought a christening, not a season for merry-making, but a solemn act of religion. And they dedicated their infant to his Maker with becoming seriousness.

Trueman left the cottage, and got back to Mr. Fantom's just as the family were going to sit down to dinner, as he had promised.

ance.

When they sat down, Mr. Fantom was not a little out of humour to see his table in some disorder. William was also rather more negligent than usual. If the company called for bread, he gave them beer; and he took away the clean plates and gave them dirty ones. Mr. Fantom soon discovered that his servant was very drunk; he flew into a violent passion, and ordered him out of the room, charging that he should not appear in his presence in that condition. William obeyed; but having slept an hour or two, and got about half sober, he again made his appearHis master gave him a most severe reprimand, and called him an idle, drunken, vicious fellow. "Sir," said William, very pertly," If I do get drunk now and then, I only do it for the good of my country, and in obedience to your wishes." Mr. Fantom, thoroughly provoked, now began to scold him in words not fit to be repeated, and asked him what he meant. "Why, Sir," said William, "you are a philosopher, you know; and I have often overheard you say to your company, that private vices are public benefits; and so I thought that getting drunk was as pleasant a way of doing good to the public as any, especially when I could oblige my master at the same time."

"Get out of my house," said Mr. Fantom in a great rage. “I do

But

not desire to stay a moment longer," said William, so pay me my wages."-"Not I, indeed," replied the master; " nor will I give you a character; so never let me see your face again." William took his master at his word, and not only got out of the house, but went out of the country too as fast as possible. When they found he was really gone, they made a hue-and-cry in order to detain him till they had examined if he had left every thing in the house as he had found it. William had got out of reach, knowing that he could not stand such a scrutiny. On examination, Mr. Fantom found that all his old port was gone, and Mrs. Fantom missed three of her best new spoons. William was pursued, but without success; and Mr. Fantom was so much discomposed, that he could not, for the rest of the day, talk on any subject but his wine and his spoons, nor harangue on any project but that of recovering both by bringing William to justice.

Some days passed away, in which Mr. Fantom, having had time to cool, began to be ashamed that he had been betrayed into such ungoverned passion. He made the best excuse he could; said no man was perfect, and, though he owned he had been too violent, yet he still hoped William would be brought to the punishment he deserved. "In the meantime," said Mr. Trueman, "seeing how ill philosophy has agreed with your man, suppose you were to set about teaching your maids a little religion?" Mr. Fantom coolly replied, "that the impertinent retort of a drunken footman could not spoil a system." "Your system, however, and your own behaviour," said Trueman, "have made that footman a scoundrel: and you are answerable for his offences." "Not I truly," said Fantom; "he has seen me do no harm; he has neither seen me cheat, gamble, nor get drunk, and I defy you to say I corrupt my servants. I am a moral man, sir."

"Mr. Fantom," said Trueman, "if you were to get drunk every day, and game every night, you would, indeed, endanger your own soul, and give a dreadful example to your family; but great as those sins are, and God forbid that I should attempt to lessen them! still they are not worse, nay, they are not so bad, as the pestilent doctrines with which you infect your house and your neighbourhood. A bad action is like a single murder. The consequence may end with the crime, to all but the perpetrator; but a wicked principle is throwing lighted gunpowder into a town; it is poisoning a river; there are no bounds, no certainty, no end to its mischief. The ill effects of the worst action may cease in time, and the consequences of your bad example may end with your life; but souls may be brought to perdition by a wicked principle after the author of it has been dead for ages."

Fantom. You talk like an ignoramus, who has never read the new philosophy. All this nonsense of future punishment is now done away. It is our benevolence which makes us reject your creed; we can no more believe in a Deity who permits so much evil in the present world, than one who threatens eternal punishment in the next.

Trueman. What! shall mortal man be more merciful than God? Do you pretend to be more compassionate than that gracious Father who sent his own Son into the world to die for sinners?

Fantom. You take all your notions of the Deity from the vulgar views

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your Bible gives you of him. "To be sure I do," said Trueman: you tell me any way of getting a better notion of him? I do not want any of your farthing-candle philosophy in the broad sunshine of the Gospel, Mr. Fantom. My Bible tells me that God is love; not merely loving, but LOVE. Now, do you think a Being, whose very essence is love, would permit any misery among his children here, if it was not to be, some way or other, or some where or other, for their good? You forget, too, that in a world where there is sin, there must be misery. Then, too, I suppose, God permits this very misery partly to exercise the sufferers, and partly to try the prosperous; for by trouble God corrects some and tries others. Suppose now, Tom Saunders had not been put in prison, you and I-no, I beg pardon, you saved your guinea; well then, our club and I could not have shown our kindness in getting him out; nor would poor Saunders himself have had an opportunity of exercising his own patience and submission under want and imprisonment. So you see one reason why God permits misery, is, that good men may have an opportunity of lessening it." Mr. Fantom replied, "There is no object which I have more at heart; I have, as I told you, a plan in my head of such universal benevolence as to include the happiness of all mankind."—" Mr. Fantom," said Trueman, "I feel that I have a general good-will to all my brethren of mankind; and if I had as much money in my purse as I have love in my heart, I trust I should prove it: all I say is, that, in a station of life where I cannot do much, I am more called upon to procure the happiness of a poor neighbour, who has no one else to look to, than to form wild plans for the good of mankind, too extensive to be accomplished, and too chimerical to be put in practice. It is the height of folly for a little ignorant tradesman to distract himself with projecting schemes which require the wisdom of scholars, the experience of statesmen, and the power of kings to accomplish. I cannot free whole countries, nor reform the evils of society at large, but I can free an aggrieved wretch in a workhouse; I can relieve the distresses of one of my journeymen; and I can labour to reform myself and my own family."

Some weeks after this, a letter was brought to Mr. Fantom from his late servant William, who had been turned away for drunkenness, as related above, and who had also robbed his master of some wine and some spoons. Mr. Fantom, glancing his eye over the letter, said "It is dated from Chelmsford jail; that rascal is got into prison. I am glad of it, with all my heart, it is the fittest place for such scoundrels. I hope he will be sent to Botany Bay, if not hanged."-" O, ho! my good friend," said Trueman, “then I find that in abolishing all prisons, you would just let one stand for the accommodation of those who should happen to rob you. General benevolence, I see, is compatible with particular resentments, though individual kindness is not consistent with universal philanthropy." Mr. Fantom drily observed, that he was not fond of jokes, and proceeded to read the letter. It expressed an earnest wish that his late master would condescend to pay him one visit in his dark and doleful abode; as he wished to say a few words to him, before the dreadful sentence of the law, which had already been pronounced, should be executed.

"Let us go and see the poor fellow," said Trueman; "it is but a morning's ride. If he is really so near his end, it would be cruel to refuse

him."- "Not I, truly," said Fantom; "he deserves nothing at my hands but the halter he is likely to meet with.-Such port is not to be had for money! and the spoons, part of my new dozen!"-"As to the wine," said Trueman, “I am afraid you must give that up, but the only way to get any tidings of the spoons is to go and hear what he has to say; I have no doubt but he will make such a confession as may be very useful to others, which, you know, is one great advantage of punishments; and, besides, we may afford him some little comfort.". "As to comfort, he deserves none from me," said Fantom; "and as to his confessions, they can be of no use to me, but as they give me a chance of getting my spoons; so I do not much care if I do take a ride with you."

When they came to the prison, Mr. Trueman's tender heart sank within him. He deplored the corrupt nature of man, which makes such rigorous confinement indispensably needful, not merely for the punishment of the offender, but for the safety of society. Fantom, from mere trick and habit, was just preparing a speech on general benevolence, and the cruelty of imprisonment; for he had a set of sentiments, collected from the new philosophy, which he always kept by him. The naming a man in power brought out the ready cut-and-dried phrases against oppression. The idea of rank included every vice, that of poverty every virtue and he was furnished with all the invectives against the cruelty of laws, punishments, and prisons, which the new lexicon has produced. But his mechanical benevolence was suddenly checked; the recollection of his old port and his new spoons cooled his ardour, and he went on without saying a word.

When they reached the cell where the unhappy William was confined, they stopped at the door. The poor wretch had thrown himself on the ground, as well as his chains would permit. He groaned piteously; and was so swallowed up with a sense of his own miseries, that he neither heard the door open, nor saw the gentlemen. He was attempting to pray, but in an agony which made his words hardly intelligible. Thus much they could make out-" God be merciful to me a sinner, the chief of sinners!" then suddenly attempting to start up, but prevented by his irons, he roared out, "O God! thou canst not be merciful to me, for I have denied thee; I have ridiculed my Saviour who died for me; I have broken his laws; I have derided his word; I have resisted his Spirit; I have laughed at that heaven which is shut against me; I have denied the truth of those torments which await me. To-morrow! to-morrow! Oh for a longer space for repentance! Oh for a short reprieve from hell!"

Mr. Trueman wept so loud, that it drew the attention of the criminal, who now lifted up his eyes, and cast on his late master a look so dreadful, that Fantom wished for a moment that he had given up all hope of the spoons, rather than have exposed himself to such a scene. At length the poor wretch said, in a voice that would have melted a heart of stone, "O, sir, are you there? I did indeed wish to see you before my dreadful sentence is put in execution. O, sir! to-morrow! to-morrow!-But I have a confession to make to you." This revived Mr. Fantom, who again ventured to glance a hope at the spoons. "Sir," said William, "I could not die without making my confession."- "Ay, and restitution too, I hope," replied Fantom; "where are my spoons ?"-" Sir, they are gone with the