UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 AT LOS ANGELES
 
 U.NfVKRSITYofCALrFUKNU 
 
 Los ANGELES 
 LIBRARY
 
 UNIVERSITY of CALIFOKf«i 
 
 AT 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 8 ^Ts 1
 
 THE NOVELS 
 
 AND MISCELLANEOUS WORKS 
 
 OF DANIEL DE FOE. 
 
 VOLUME THE FOURTEENTH. 
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP.
 
 THE NOVELS 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS WORKS 
 
 DANIEL DE FOE. 
 
 WITH A BIOGRAPHICAL MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR, LITERARY 
 
 PREFACES TO THE VARIOUS PIECES, ILLUSTRATIVE NOTES, ETC. 
 
 INCLUDING ALL CONTAINED IN THE EDITION ATTRIBUTED TO 
 
 THE LATE SIR WALTER SCOTT, 
 
 WITH CONSIDERABLE ADDITIONS. 
 VOL. XIV. 
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP, 
 
 OXFORD : 
 
 PRINTED BY D. A. TAI^BOYS, 
 FOR THOMAS TEGG, 73, CHEAPSIDE, LONDON. 
 
 1840. 
 
 103883
 
 \J -O 'it
 
 EELIGIOUS COURTSHIP, 
 
 WITH AN APPENDIX. 
 
 Ix^ ONE VOLUME. 
 
 OXFORD : 
 
 PRINTED BY D. A. TAJLBOYS, 
 
 FOR THOMAS TEGG, 73, CHEAPSIDE, LONDON. 
 
 1840.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP 
 
 BEING 
 
 Historical Discourses 
 
 ON THE 
 
 Necessity of Marrying Religious 
 Husbands and W i v e s only. 
 
 AS ALSO 
 
 Of Husbands and Wives being of the same Opinions 
 in religion with one another. 
 
 WITH AN 
 
 APPENDIX 
 
 OF THE NECESSITY 
 
 Of taking none but Religious Servants, and a 
 Proposal for the better managing of Servants.
 
 3 4-00 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 As this way of writing in cases not much unlike 
 this, has been approved of, and has met with great 
 success in other hands, it has been an encourage- 
 ment to this undertaking. 
 
 Historical dialogues, it must be confessed, have 
 a very taking elegancy in them, and the story 
 being handed forward in short periods, and quick 
 returns, makes the retaining it in the mind the 
 easier, and the impression the more lasting, as well 
 as delightful. 
 
 The story represented here is capable of such and 
 so many applications to the cases of young people, 
 whose settlement is always in view, that there 
 will never be a time when the instruction will 
 be useless. 
 
 If anybody should object, that too much is put 
 here upon the woman's part, and that a lady can- 
 not be supposed, in the midst of her lover's ad- 
 dresses, to take upon her to demand such an ac- 
 count of himself as is here suggested ; that few men 
 will stoop to such an examination ; and few women
 
 X PREFACE. 
 
 venture the loss of their lovers upon such a subject; 
 let such consider how small the satisfaction here 
 proposed on the lady's part is, and that no gentle- 
 man can think hard a woman should be satisfied 
 whether he is a Christian or a heathen; a man of 
 religion or an atheist ; and indeed no man of any 
 tolerable share of sense, will address himself to a 
 lady for marriage, but he will take care to antici- 
 pate her inquiries of that kind, by showing some 
 concern, for knowing what she is herself. 
 
 The universal neglect of this trifle, both in men 
 and women, is what this book is designed to cor- 
 rect, and there needs no greater satire upon that 
 part, than the success of the several cases here 
 related : (viz.) the happy life of the youngest 
 sister, who came into the measures proposed; and 
 the miserable condition of the second sister, who 
 rashly threw herself into the arms of a man of 
 differing principles from her own, though blessed 
 with all the good-humour in the world. 
 
 In these accounts, the very great consequence of 
 being equally yoked, is illustrated ; and it appears 
 here how essential a share of religion, and a har- 
 mony of principles in religion, are to the felicity of 
 a conjugal life. 
 
 To those who do not cast off all concern for 
 themselves ; who do not make marrying a mere 
 leap in the dark, and as the first lady expresses it, 
 rushing like a horse into the battle, these things 
 will be of some moment. As to those that are 
 void of care of those matters, they must go on, and
 
 PREFACE. xi 
 
 pay for their experience; let them take heed, and 
 buy it as cheap as they can. 
 
 If the women seem to be favoured in this story, 
 and have the better part of the staff put into their 
 hands, it is because really the hazard is chieJy on 
 their side, and they are generally the greatest 
 sufferers in the success : but if it were otherwise, 
 yet, if they are treated with more than ordinary 
 regard, the author hopes they will not lay that sin 
 to his charge. 
 
 The Appendix to this work speaks for itself: 
 irreligious servants, in some respects, are the plague 
 of families, and keep our houses always in disorder. 
 'Tis a wonderful thing to reflect on, that so scan- 
 dalous an evil, so easy to be rectified, should have 
 gone to such a degree as it has in the world ; and 
 that masters and mistresses of families, have not 
 long ago for their own ease, and for the satisfaction 
 of one another, come to a general law, for the 
 managing, the punishing, and, above all, for the 
 recommending of servants; which, if they would 
 do, they would easily, I say, bring them to know 
 themselves, and do their duty ; neither of which is 
 the case among servants at this time. 
 
 But 'tis all our own faults ; we recommend sluts 
 and thieves, drones, and saucy, insolent fellows and 
 wenches : I say, we recommend them to one an- 
 other, without any concern for our neighbour's 
 safety and peace ; in a word, to pay the debt of 
 charity for those creatures, which have abused us, 
 we forget the debt of justice to one another, and
 
 xii PREFACE. 
 
 betray the confidence which one housekeeper and 
 neighbour owes to another, in one of the most 
 essential articles of their families' quiet. 
 
 This is all exposed here ; and though this part is 
 very short, being but an accident to the other dis- 
 courses ; yet, I presume to say, it will be as accept- 
 able, and, in its kind, as useful as any of the rest. 
 
 This edition of this work recommends itself 
 upon this express condition, viz.. That the author 
 has not found occasion to alter anything from the 
 former (errors of the press excepted), nor have I 
 found room for any additions, that usual pretence to 
 set off new impressions, and impose upon those 
 who have bought the first; being still fully satisfied, 
 that the goodness of the design, and the usefulness 
 of the subject, will make this work acceptable 
 wherever it comes.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 There lived in a village near London, an ancient 
 grave gentleman of a good estate, which he had 
 gained by trade, having been bred a merchant, 
 though of a very good family too ; he had been a 
 man in great business, but his circumstances being 
 easy, and his love of a retired life increasing with 
 his years, he had left off his business, and taken a 
 house a mile or two out of town ; he was a widower 
 at the time of this affair, his wife having been dead 
 some years before. 
 
 He had five or six children, and all grown up, 
 but none settled in the world, though he had an 
 estate sufficient to give them very plentiful fortunes. 
 His three daughters were very agreeable women, 
 and, which was still better, were very sober, mo- 
 dest, sensible, and religious young ladies, two of 
 them especially ; and as the character of their 
 father, and the fortune he was able to give them, 
 recommended them very well to the world, so they 
 had several gentlemen that made honourable and 
 handsome proposals to their father for their mar- 
 riage. 
 
 I shall most carefully avoid giving any room here 
 so much as to guess what opinion in religion they 
 were bred up in, or whether the old gentleman was 
 a churchman or a dissenter ; and the same caution 
 
 R. c. B
 
 2 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 I shall use with all the rest of the persons whom I 
 shall bring upon the stage in the course of this 
 story ; my reason for which, everybody will under- 
 stand by the nature of the relation, and of the times 
 we live in. 
 
 The father of these ladies had been a man always, 
 till now, hurried in the world, being crowded with 
 a vast business, taken up with getting money, and 
 with growing rich ; so that he neither had much 
 concern for, or indeed took any care of, the educa- 
 tion or instruction of his children, but left them 
 wholly to the conduct of their mother. Nor was it 
 any great loss to the children, especially to the 
 daughters, their mother being a most pious, reli- 
 gious, and virtuous lady, who was not only extraor- 
 dinarily qualified to instruct her children, but gave 
 up her whole time to it from their childhood. 
 
 One morning, a little before her death, calling 
 her daughters to her, she told them, among other 
 things, that as to marriage, she had but two injunc- 
 tions to lay upon them, which, as she was not likely 
 to live to see them settled, she would desire them 
 to lay down as maxims in the choice of their hus- 
 bands ; and which she would, as upon her death- 
 bed, if her words had any extraordinary influence 
 upon them, oblige them to observe strictly, viz., 
 
 1. Never to marry any man, whatever his person 
 , or fortune might be, that did not at least profess 
 (V Y to be a religious man. 
 
 ^ ^ 2. Never to marry any man, how religious soever 
 
 A' he may seem to be, if he was not of the same prin- 
 .y ciples and opinion in religion as themselves. 
 
 And as this was but a little before her death, so 
 the daughters were more than ordinarily touched 
 with the sense of it, and resolved to pursue it 
 exactly. How they did pursue it, and the conse- 
 quences of it, will be seen in the following dialogues.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 3 
 
 It followed some time after, that a gentleman of 
 a very good estate courted the youngest of these 
 daughters ; and making very handsome proposals to 
 her father, (for he offered to settle 600/. per annum 
 upon her,) the father was exceedingly pleased with 
 the match, he being a gentleman, thoroughly well- 
 bred, an agreeable person, and, in a word, nothing 
 appearing to give the least reason why he should 
 not be as acceptable to the lady as he was to the 
 father. 
 
 As he came thus recommended to the father, 
 there appeared nothing disagreeable in it to the 
 young lady, nor had she at his first appearance the 
 least exception to make against the gentleman as 
 to his person. Indeed, as to his estate, though her 
 fortune was very handsome, yet his was so far be- 
 yond it, that there was no comparison in the case; 
 and besides all this, she had this engaging circum- 
 stance in the proposal, viz., that she being the 
 youngest of the three daughters, the gentleman had 
 passed over her two eldest sisters, and had singled 
 her out by his more particular fancy, giving her 
 that undeniable mark of his affection, viz., that she 
 would be the wife of his choice, and consequently 
 that she would have an uncommon security of the 
 sincerity of his love to her. 
 
 The father opposed his proposal a little at first, as 
 a slight offered to his eldest daughters; but the 
 gentleman told him, that he hoped, if he accepted 
 his design of coming into his family, he would give 
 him leave to take the person his judgment had 
 made choice of, and that he thought he might be 
 happy with ; that it would be a very hard circum- 
 stance to him, and what he could not think of 
 with patience, to marry one of his daughters and 
 be in love with another ; that he was very far 
 from offering any slight to the eldest, letting him 
 
 b2
 
 4 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 know, that happening to see the youngest first, 
 he found such suitableness, and something so agree- 
 able in her to him, that he resolved to look no 
 further; that, perhaps, if he had seen the eldest or 
 the second daughter first, it might have been the 
 same thing ; but that as he could not answer for the 
 bias of his fancy, so neither could he answer it to 
 his own conduct not to choose her, that was from 
 the first moment he saw her, the only woman in the 
 world that he ever thought could make him happy. 
 Her father could make no return to an answer 
 that had so much weight in it, and which appeared 
 to be so sincere; and, therefore, not acquainting his 
 eldest daughter with the design he had to propose 
 her to him, he took occasion to talk to them all to- 
 gether one morning as they were drinking choco- 
 late ; and begins merrily with them thus : — 
 
 DIALOGUE I. 
 
 Father. Well, girls, you little think now, which 
 of you all is like to be first married. What say you, 
 child, (turning to the youngest;) I hope you are 
 content to let your eldest sisters go before you ? 
 
 Zrd Daughter. Yes, yes, sir ; I desire both my 
 sisters may go before me ; for I see nothing in the 
 world to make me in haste. 
 
 Fa. Why, what's the matter, that you are so out 
 of love with the world all on a sudden ? Is it that 
 you think yourself too good for everybody, or every- 
 body too good for you ? 
 
 ^rd Da. No, sir ; I am neither so vain to think 
 the first, or so humble to think the last; but I 
 desire to think of myself as I ought to think. 
 
 Fa. How is that, pray ?
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 ^rd Da. Why, sir, I think I live too well to 
 change for the worse ; and this is not an age to 
 change for the better, and therefore I desire to be 
 as I am. 
 
 Fa. Why is this age so much worse than that 
 which went before, pray ? 
 
 ^rd Da. Nay, sir, I don't know ; but I am very 
 well satisfied, sir, with your first proposal, that my 
 sisters may try before me. 
 
 Fa. Well, well ; and if you go before your sisters 
 there will be no harm done, if it be to your liking, 1 
 hope ; I dare say none of your sisters will be angry. 
 At which the two eldest said. No, no ; we shall 
 be very glad to see it. And so they fell to jesting 
 with their younger sister, till they almost angered 
 her. 
 
 You are mighty difficult, says the eldest sister, 
 that you fall upon the whole world, as if there was 
 nothing good enough for you. 
 
 Says the second sister. She will be as easily 
 pleased as another, I warrant her, if she was talked 
 to in earnest. Upon which, notwithstanding their 
 father was present, they fell to rallying one another 
 between jest and earnest, a little too warmly, as 
 follows : — 
 
 '6rd Da. That may be ; as my eldest sisters teach 
 me, I hope they intend to set me a good example ; 
 for 'tis their turn first. 
 
 \st Da. We don't know that ; if a good offer 
 comes in your way, you'll hardly put it off, and say, 
 Your betters must go before you. 
 
 '6rd Da. For all you are both my eldest sisters, 
 I question whether you understand what a good 
 offer means ; and, it may be, have considered it no 
 more than I : there's a great deal in that word. 
 
 Ist Da. O ! I'll explain it in a few words : a good 
 estate, and a man you like.
 
 b RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 2nd Da. Nay, you might have stopped at the 
 first : 'tis no matter what the man is, if the estate 
 be but good. 
 
 Srd Da, Is that the example my eldest sisters in- 
 tend to set me ? 
 
 Fa. Aye, and a good example too, child. 
 
 drd Da. You are disposed to jest, sir, but I 
 believe you would not be pleased with such 
 a way of choosing a husband for any of your 
 daughters. 
 
 2nd Da. I hope my father would ; I'm sure I 
 should. 
 
 Srd Da. That's no token to me that you have 
 considered much of the matter, as I said before. 
 
 2nd Da. Why, what yould you have besides a 
 good estate? what matter is it what the man is ? I 
 would pass by a great many homely defects for a 
 good settlement. 
 
 Srd Da. As for the homely defects, perhaps I 
 may be no nicer than you, if there was nothing else 
 wanting. 
 
 2nd Da. What can be wanting, if there be money 
 enough ? 
 
 Srd Da. Nothing, I hope, when my sister comes 
 to choose. 
 
 27id Da. No ; nor when you come to choose 
 neither, it may be. 
 
 Srd Da. I'm afraid there will. 
 
 2nd Da. For my part, I shall inquire for nothing 
 else, as I know of. 
 
 S7'd Da. No ! what, would you have your husband 
 have no religion ? 
 
 27id Da. What have I to do with his religion ? 
 he'll be a Christian I hope. 
 
 Srd Da. And what if he should not ? 
 
 2nd Da. Nay, then he may be a heathen, an he 
 will ; what's that to me ?
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 7 
 
 Srd Da. That's a proof of what I said before, 
 that you have not considered much of the matter. 
 
 2nd Da. No, indeed, not I ; but I suppose my 
 younger sister has. 
 
 ^rd Da. Your younger sister never told you so 
 yet : but methinks there requires very little consi- 
 deration to say, if I ever should marry, I would not 
 have a rake, a heathen, a profligate fellow, a man 
 withoat religion, purely for his money ; if you think 
 these things no objections, and are got over such 
 scruples in the case, I must tell you, sister, that it 
 seems the business has been more in your head 
 than ]n mine, or at least to worse purpose. 
 
 2;^6 Da. Well, it may be so ; and then it may 
 follow, that when you have considered more of it 
 too, y«u will be of my mind. 
 
 2>rd Da. What, to marry an atheist! a man of no 
 principles ! that knows neither God nor Devil ! 
 
 2?c? Da. Aye, aye, that or anything else, if you 
 have but a good settlement, child ; a good settle- 
 men will make up all those things : you'd take him, 
 I wa-rant you. 
 
 3/i Da. No, sister ; not for all I can see with my 
 eyes 
 
 2id Da. O, you don't know your own mind, till 
 you 'ome to be tried ; we shall see you tell another 
 tale lereafter. 
 
 3r? Da. I a'n't so fond of a husband, whatever 
 my sster is. 
 
 {Lere the father, seeing that the younger sister 
 begai to be a little moved, and, umcilling they should 
 makea quarrel of it, put an end to the discourse, 
 and they soon after withdreiv ; and then the 
 fathe., being left ivith the eldest daughter only, went 
 on ivth his discourse thus to her.^ 
 
 Fa Child, you are a little too hard upon your 
 sister
 
 8 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Da. She should not have taken it so, sir; she 
 knows it is but in jest. 
 
 Fa. But you do not know whether it may be all 
 in jest or no. 
 
 Da. Nay, sir ; I am sure all our share in it was 
 in jest ; if there is anything in it, I should have 
 talked in another way. 
 
 {Here she was very inquisitive with her father to 
 know if there was anything in it or not, at which he 
 only smiled.) 
 
 Da. Nay, sir, then I understand how it is. 
 
 Fa. Well, child ; how will you take it, t» see 
 your youngest sister married before you ? 
 
 Da. O, very well, sir, I shall be very glad of it, 
 if it be for her good : but if I were to speak my mind, 
 I should say something to her about it, that, it may 
 be, there may be occasion for. 
 
 Fa. Well, pray speak your mind then. j 
 
 Da. Why, sir, for all my sister's bantering hfer, I 
 must own, our youngest sister will not be elisily 
 pleased in a husband, as times go now. 
 
 Fa. How do you mean, child ? 
 
 Da. Why, sir, I mean, that though she mar be 
 the first of us that shall be asked, she may b^ the 
 last of us that will be married. ' 
 
 Fa. Ay, my girl ! is it so with you then ? "Vhat, 
 have you been both making your bargains wijtiout 
 me ; and they are so near concluding ? that'sN^ery 
 hard. ! 
 
 Da. Dear father, how could you have siih a 
 thought of us ! you are quite wrong ; you doni un- 
 derstand me at all. 
 
 Fa. Nay, how can 1 understand you any ther 
 way ? if it is not so, explain yourself 
 
 Da. Sir, I mean that my sister will not be asily 
 pleased ; she will scarce take the first that coijes, I 
 dare say.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 9 
 
 Fa. No ; then I shall take it very ill : for, I assure 
 you, he that I mean is a very good one. 
 
 Da. Nay, if he is a good one, it may be she may; 
 but 'tis a question, sir, whether her good one and 
 your good one may be both of a sort. 
 
 Fa. Why, he has a very good estate, I'll assure 
 you ; far beyond what she can expect. 
 
 Da. That's a good thing : but that will go but a 
 little way with her, I know. 
 
 Fa. Well, he is a very handsome, well accom- 
 plished, well-bred gentleman ; she cannot mislike 
 him ; he is a most agreeable young gentleman, I 
 assure you. 
 
 Da. That won't go a bit the further with her, 
 neither, I am sure. 
 
 Fa. Then he is in love with her, and has singled 
 her out from you all ; she will be the wife of his 
 affection, to be sure ; what can she desire more ? 
 
 Da. She will desire something more, still, sir, 
 though the last is a thing will go very far ; doubt- 
 less, further than anything we have talked on yet : 
 but you know, sir, my sister is a very sober, reli- 
 gious body, and she will never marry any man that 
 is not so too, though his estate, his person, his ac- 
 complishments, were beyond all the rest of the 
 world ; and this was the reason why I said she may 
 be first asked and last married. 
 
 Fa. Nay, I can't tell how matters are as to 
 that. 
 
 Da. I'll assure you, sir, she will know how it is as 
 to that, before she engages. 
 
 Fa. Nay, let her alone to that part, that's none of 
 my business. 
 
 {Here lie was touched a little^ and reflected hack 
 softly to himself; wlty do I say 'tis none of my 
 business .? Whose business is it, if it is not mine ?) 
 
 Da. But, sir, when you know her mind in that
 
 10 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 case, it may prevent your receiving any disappoint- 
 ment, and prevent her venturing to disoblige you in 
 refusing what you may propose to her. 
 
 Fa. No, no ; I dare say she wont refuse him ; 
 she is not such a fool neither. 
 
 Da, Dear sir, then I hope you know he is a sober 
 religious gentleman ? 
 
 Fa. I know nothing to the contrary, my dear ; I 
 suppose he is. 
 
 Da. But, sir, it makes me anxious about it, be- 
 cause you said just now you could not tell: I hope 
 you will inquire further into it before you take any 
 farther steps about it. 
 
 Fa. Why, child, as to that, I dare say she need 
 not be concerned ; he is so good a humoured man, 
 he will never cross her in small matters, especially 
 in religious things. Child, do you think any gen- 
 tleman can be angry that his wife is sober and 
 religious ? To be sure she may be as religious as 
 she will. 
 
 Da. O dear sir, my sister can never be satisfied 
 so, sure. 
 
 {He observes his daughter concerned at it, and 
 that tears stood in her eyes.^ 
 
 Fa. Child, what's the matter ? What makes you 
 so concerned about it ? 
 
 Da. 'Tis a sad life, sir, for a woman to have no 
 help from her husband in things that are good, but 
 only to have liberty for herself to be as good as she 
 will, or rather as good as she can : by the same rule 
 she may be as bad as she will ; and it may be, he 
 will like her ne'er the better for the one, nor the 
 worse for t'other. 
 
 Fa. Well, he is a fine gentleman, and professes a 
 great affection for her. 
 
 Da. Before he has seen her, it may be, or knows 
 anything of her.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 1] 
 
 Fa. No, no ; he has seen her, but he has never 
 been in her company, I know. 
 
 Da. So that I find he cares not what she is ; he 
 chooses by her outside only. 
 
 Fa. He takes all the rest upon trust. 
 ^ Da. But my sister won't take him so, I can tell 
 him that. 
 
 Fa. I shall take it very ill from her if she slights 
 him ; for I assure you he is not to be slighted, he 
 has very near 2000/. a year estate. 
 
 Da. But I am sure, if he is not a religious man, 
 she will slight him for all that ; my meaning is, she 
 will never have him ; I suppose she will not be rude 
 to him. 
 
 Fa. If she does refuse him, she and I shall 
 quarrel, I assure you, and that very much. 
 
 Da. I hope you won't, sir: you will give her 
 leave to choose to her own liking; it is for her 
 life, and she must bear the discontent of it ; 
 nobody can bear it for her : besides, sir, you know 
 she was very religiously instructed by my mother. 
 Fa. Ay, ay ; your mother was a good woman. 
 Da. And you know, sir, I suppose, what advice 
 my mother gave her upon her death-bed, viz., never 
 to marry a man that was not religious, whatever 
 other advantages might offer with him. 
 
 Fa. And did she not give you the same advice 
 too, my dear .^ 
 
 Da. Yes, to be sure, and all of us. 
 Fa. Well; and yet you heard what your sister 
 said just now, viz., that she would not trouble her- 
 self about it, so there was but a good estate. 
 
 Da. But I hope my sister would consider bett-er, 
 if she came to the question. 
 
 Fa. Why, child, would you refuse such a gentle- 
 man, and such a settlement as this is, that offers 
 now to your sister, for such a nicety as that ?
 
 12 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Da. It will be time enough, sir, for me to answer 
 that question, when I am offered such a one ; there's 
 no danger of me yet. 
 
 Fa. I hope you would be wiser. 
 
 Da. I hope, sir, I should act as becomes me : but 
 the case is not mine now ; if it was, I should not 
 have begun the discourse. 
 
 Fa. Well ; but did your mother give you such 
 advice, child, when she was ill ? 
 
 Da. Yes, sir ; and more than advice: for she told 
 us, she would leave it as an injunction upon us, as 
 far as her dying words could have any influence to 
 oblige us. 
 
 Fa. Very well : that is as much as to say, she had 
 found the inconvenience of it herself. 
 
 {Here his conscience touched him again, though 
 but slightly, and he fetched a sigh, and said softly^ 
 If she did, it was nothing hut what she had too 
 much reason to do ; for she lived but an uncomfort- 
 able life with me on that very account.) 
 
 Da. Nay, indeed, dear father, we never put any 
 such construction upon it. 
 
 Fa. And so, my dear, you think your sister will 
 not like this gentleman, do you ? 
 
 Da. Indeed, sir, I cannot tell, till I know what 
 kind of a gentleman he is ; no, nor then neither ; 
 for how can I tell what my sister will like, or how 
 her fancy may lead her to act against her judgment, 
 if she should like him very well upon seeing him ? 
 
 Fa. But you believe she won't. 
 
 Da. If he is not a very sober religious man, I 
 do think she won't ; if she does, she must break in 
 upon the most solemn resolutions that she is able to 
 make. 
 
 Fa. Why, will nothing serve her but a saint? 
 Alas! where does she think to find him! What! 
 would she marry a bishop ?
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 13 
 
 Da. Nay, sir, if she should, she is not sure she 
 should not be disappointed ; ministers are but 
 men. 
 
 Fa. No, indeed, child ; nor always the best of 
 men neither. 
 
 Da. But, sir, where there is a profession of re- 
 ligion, there is some likelihood of finding the truth 
 of it ; but where there is no profession, there it 
 cannot be. Now though we are not obliged to be 
 sure our husbands should be saints, yet I believe 
 we ought to be satisfied that they are not atheists : 
 there's a great deal of difference, sir, between a 
 friend to religion, and an enemy. 
 
 Fa. Well, well ; the girls of this age do not much 
 trouble themselves about religion ; they generally let 
 it alone, till they see what religion their husbands 
 are of. 
 
 Da. Dear father, I hope your girls are not of that 
 sort. 
 
 Fa. My daughters are like other folks' daughters, 
 I believe ; I hope they are not worse. 
 
 Da. But, sir, if that were true, then there would 
 still be the more reason to take care that they should 
 marry religious husbands, else they would have no 
 religion at all. 
 
 Fa. But how shall you know it ? 
 
 Da. We must endeavour to be satisfied as well as 
 we can ; if we are deceived, it may be our unhappi- 
 ness, but will not be our fault; but if we neglect the 
 caution, it may be a double misery, by its being our 
 sorrow, and our sin too. 
 
 Fa. Well, child, I hope this gentleman will please 
 your sister as well as he does me, and I would not 
 have her stand in her own light : if he is not so re- 
 ligious now, it may come afterwards : the man is a 
 sober, well-bred, ingenuous gentleman. 
 
 Da. I can say nothing to it, sir, unless I knew
 
 14 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 him: I only take notice of the principle, sir, on 
 which my sister goes, and by which I am sure she 
 will act in this matter, that you may not be disap- 
 pointed, and resent it ; for I know she will not go 
 from it. 
 
 Fa. I'll warrant you : I intend to talk with her 
 about it ; I don't doubt but she will like him very 
 well. 
 
 [Two or three days after this discourse the father 
 brings home this young gentleman to dinner, and 
 after dinner he takes occasion to talk with his 
 daughter, and to tell her that this was the gentle- 
 man that he had told her of, that intended to court 
 her, and that he expected she would think of the 
 thing, and receive him as her own inclinations and 
 his merit should direct. 
 
 The gentleman did not discourse much with her 
 by herself that time, having no design to begin 
 closely at the first view ; however, he had the op- 
 portunity of walking two or three turns with her in 
 a green walk in the garden, and, when he took his 
 leave, told her he resolved to wait on her again ; to 
 which she made him no answer for that time. 
 
 The next evening he came again, and after that 
 for several evenings together, when having made her 
 acquainted with his design, and laid close siege to 
 her for some time, she found nothing to object against 
 him ; for he was, indeed, a most agreeable person, 
 and her father pressing her to it on the other hand, 
 and letting her know what honourable proposals he 
 had made her, and how he had singled her out 
 from all her sisters as the object of his choice, she 
 began insensibly to find her affections very strongly 
 biassed in his favour. 
 
 All this while she could make no discovery of 
 anything about religion in him, nor so much as 
 whether he was well inclined or perfectly destitute.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 15 
 
 The respect he showed her, and the distance she 
 kept him at, permitted him not to use any loose ex- 
 pressions that might give her any light into his prin- 
 ciples ; and, as he afterwards confessed, he found 
 her so nice in things of that kind, that the least dis- 
 located word would have given her an offence ; and 
 therefore he kept upon his guard a great while, till 
 at length, when they became more intimate, he 
 abated his usual caution. 
 
 By this time, as she confessed to her sister, she 
 did not only like him, but really loved him ; and 
 having nothing to object against him, had given him 
 reason to see, that she designed to have him ; but 
 she was under a great concern how to know what he 
 was as to religion ; and terribly afraid lest she 
 should give her affection such a loose, that though 
 she should be deceived in the main point, she 
 should not be able to master herself so much as to 
 go back. As she was musing very seriously upon 
 this one morning in her chamber, her eldest sister 
 came in to her, and began the following discourse 
 with her.] 
 
 Eld. Sist. Sister ! How stands the world with 
 you now ? 
 
 Vo. Sist. Never worse, sister. If you do not 
 help me, I am undone. 
 
 Eld. Sist. What's the matter ? 
 
 Yo. Sist. Why, if I have this man, I shall be the 
 misearablest creature alive. 
 
 Eld. Sist. How so ? 
 
 Yo.Sist. O! there's nothing of religion in him. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Are you sure there is not ? 
 
 Yo. Sist. No, I am not sure ; but we have con- 
 versed this month now, and I never heard one 
 word about it come out of his mouth ; and if I 
 speak a word, he turns it off, and does it so cleverly, 
 that I can't put in another word for my life.
 
 16 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Eld. Sist. I warrant you, I would find it out if it 
 were my case. 
 
 Yo. Sist. You could not, I am sure. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Why, I would ask him point blank 
 what religion he was of. 
 
 Vo. Sist. Why, so I did, and he laughed at me, 
 and said, O child, I am a mighty good Christian. 
 
 Eld. Sist. I should have told him I was afraid 
 he was not. 
 
 Yo. Sist. Why, I did that too, in the very words ; 
 and still he put me off. Another time I asked him 
 if he was not a papist ? Immediately he fell a 
 crossing himself all over, and made himself and me 
 so merry at it, that though I was really troubled 
 about it, I could not for my life get the least serious 
 thing out of him. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Why you must let it go on a little fur- 
 ther, till you are more intimate ; and till you come 
 to talk of your way of living, the affairs of his 
 family, and house, and the like. 
 
 Yo. Sist. Really, sister, I am afraid to go on any 
 further, for, I must confess, I begin to have a strange 
 kindness for him; and if I go any further I may 
 love him better, till my affection may be a snare to 
 me, and I may be prevailed with to take him with- 
 out further inquiry, which I shall have no peace in. 
 Eld. Sist. What will you do then ? 
 
 Yo. Sist. I know not what to do. I wish you 
 would try what you can make of him ; you are free 
 enough with him to talk anything of that kind, 
 sure. 
 
 Eld. Sist. I can be free enough, but that won't 
 do it ; if he is too cunning for you, he will easily be 
 too cunning for me. 
 
 Yo. Sist. Why, do you think then that it is a 
 disguise ? 
 Eld. Sist. What else can it be ? Do you think
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 17 
 
 he guards himself so strictly against all your at- 
 tempts for nothing ? 
 
 JTo. Sist. If I thought so, I should inquire no 
 further ; it would be a plain discovery to me. 
 Eld. Sist. Why so? 
 
 Vo. Sist. Why, if he was a serious religious per- 
 son, he would have no reason or occasion to con- 
 ceal it ; if he endeavours to hide himself, it is for 
 something that he would not have known, and then 
 I need not ask any more after it. 
 
 Eld. Sist. No doubt of it ; you cannot think any 
 other. 
 
 Yo. Sist. But, indeed, I do think otherwise : I 
 verily believe it is all mere nature, and nothing but 
 the height of good humour ; for I have never put 
 the question downright to him, but in a kind of 
 jesting way. 
 
 Eld. Sist. But why don't you then ? Why do 
 you trifle and dally so long with a thing of such 
 consequence ? You ari't afraid of disobliging him, 
 are you ? 
 
 Vo. Sist. No, indeed ; 1 am more afraid that his 
 answer will disoblige me. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Well, well ; you had better have it dis- 
 coursed now, than hereafter ; I would not be back- 
 ward to speak plain to him. 
 
 Yo. Sist. If I talk never so plain, he will not give 
 a serious answer ; he is so merry, I cannot bring 
 him to talk ; I beg you will see if you can break in 
 upon him. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Come, I'll tell you what I will do, which 
 will be better a great deal than my talking with 
 him by myself You know we shall walk all to- 
 gether awhile after supper ; I'll begin it before 
 you, and you may speak or not speak, take it in jest 
 or in earnest, as you find it proper. 
 
 R. c. c
 
 18 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Vo. Sisf. Do then ; I think that will be very 
 well. 
 
 QThe next evening the two sisters and this young 
 gentleman walking in the garden, as was usual after 
 supper, and talking of several indifferent things, a 
 servant brings the eldest sister a letter, which made 
 some little stop in their walk. She opened it, and 
 read it ; and he finding her colour change a little in 
 the reading, stepped up to her ; says he. What's 
 the matter, sister ? (for he always called her sister;) 
 you have no bad news, I hope ? Truly, says she, 
 one way 'tis no bad news, and another way 'tis. 
 And turning to her sister, she says. Sir James is 
 dead. He was a little concerned to hear some 
 of the family was dead, lest it should grieve his 
 mistress. But she, without any appearance of 
 trouble, returned. Well, since 'tis the disposal of 
 Providence, I am not grieved ; for my aunt is de- 
 livered from one of the worst good husbands that 
 ever a sober woman had. He took hold of that 
 word presently, and still directing his speech to his 
 sister, said, Worst good husbands ! What mystery 
 is that ? Why truly, says the sister, the thing is 
 too true. Sir James was a very good husband in 
 his humour, and in several other things ; but my 
 lady had a dreadful life with him. Why, says he, 
 that may be very true ; a man may be a very good 
 husband in one thing, and be very unkind in an- 
 other ; 'tis owing much to the disagreement of 
 tempers. The young lady's sister was disappointed 
 in his answer ; for she expected he would have 
 inquired into the particulars, but he put it off as a 
 thing that did not concern him much; at which the 
 youngest sister looked at her, and smiled, which 
 was as much as to tell her that she had found now 
 that what she had told her was true ; namely,
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 19 
 
 that she would not see it easy to break in upon 
 him. She took the hint, and resolved she would 
 try the best of her skill, and she found it soon 
 answered her end ; so she returned to him very 
 smartly, No, no, sir, says she, it was not at all from 
 disagreement of temper in this case ; it was worse a 
 great deal, it was disagreement of principles, for 
 the gentleman was of a very good temper, I assure 
 you. Then if he had a good wife, returns he, he 
 should have made it his first principle to have been 
 obliging and good-tempered to his wife. Alas ! 
 says the lady, he had no religion, and she is the 
 most pious religious lady in the world. It may be 
 then, says he, she had enough for her and her hus- 
 band too. Her being religious, said she, made his 
 want of it an unsufferable burden to her. Then she 
 was to blamcj says he, for what need she have been 
 uneasy at that ? Not uneasy ! says she; How is it 
 possible a religious woman can live comfortably 
 with an irreligious profane husband ! O, very well, 
 says he again ; what signifies it to a woman whether 
 her husband has any religion or no ? I have better 
 thoughts of you, says she, than to believe you 
 speak as you think, that you would be undepstood 
 so. 
 
 Her sister had listened very attentively to all this, 
 and was sensibly affected with it, but said nothing 
 till now, when she turned upon her sister ; Why 
 
 sister, said she, should you think so ? I hope Mr. 
 
 says nothing but what he is very sincere in. Do 
 you think he has not his religion to choose as well 
 as other young gentlemen ? Madam, says he, how 
 should I choose my religion, that have not chosen me 
 a wife ? Then you are for choosing you a wife first, 
 says his mistress, and your religion afterwards ? Why 
 madam, says he, don't all the gentlemen in England 
 
 c2
 
 20 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 do so too ? I don't know what they do, says she, but 
 I know what they ought to do. 
 
 She was now too well satisfied of what she feared 
 before, and her mind was so oppressed with it that 
 that she was not able to hold ; but making an excuse 
 to take her sister's letter, and go in and tell her 
 father the news of the death of his brother-in-law, 
 she left her sister to walk with her lover, and went 
 up into her chamber, and locking herself in, she 
 gave vent to her passions by crying vehemently a 
 great while : when she had recovered herself, and 
 considered that she was obliged in civility to go down 
 again, she composedher thoughts, and kneeling down, 
 prayed to God to fortify her soul in the resolutions 
 she had always taken, never to join herself to any 
 man that did not acknowledge God, and profess to 
 fear and serve him ; and in this temper she went 
 down to him again. 
 
 She was with him after that some hours in the 
 evening, as usual ; but he observed she was not easy 
 nor free : at length she told him, that upon this oc- 
 casion of a relation being dead, it was proper for the 
 family, and decent to their father, that they should 
 make some little alteration in their conduct, and 
 desired he would not take it ill that she retired 
 from him sooner than she used to do. This he could 
 not object against, and accordingly he took his 
 leave, believing that her uneasiness was nothing but 
 the business of her aunt's being a widow, which 
 though, as she said, she was not much concerned for, 
 yet several things about it might take up her 
 thoughts, so as to make her not so perfectly easy, 
 or so good company, as she was before. 
 
 But he was quite out in his guess ; for her un- 
 easiness was of another kind, and she had nothing 
 now lay upon her mind, but how she should discharge
 
 EELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 21 
 
 herself entirely of his importunities, and yet without 
 being rude and uncivil to him, and without disoblig- 
 ing her father ; for she was firmly resolved in her 
 mind never to see him more. 
 
 When she had thus taken her leave of him, she 
 went up into her chamber, sending her maid to de- 
 sire her sister to come up, and ordering the servant 
 to excuse her to her father for not coming to supper, 
 for she was indisposed. 
 
 As soon as her sister came into her chamber, she 
 ran to her in the greatest passion imaginable, and 
 throwing her arms about her neck, O sister, says 
 she, help me but out of this wretched business, and 
 I'll never come into the like as long as I live : she 
 said no more, but hung about her, crying violently 
 a great while. 
 
 Sist. What can I do for you, child? you know 
 I'll do anything I can. 
 
 Vo. Sist. Don't you see how it is now? was I 
 not right in my suspicion ? 
 
 Sist. I am afraid you are : I don't know what to 
 say to it. 
 
 Yo. Sist. Say to it ! I would not marry him if he 
 was lord high treasurer of Britain. 
 
 Sist. What will you do then ? how will you put 
 him off? 
 
 Yo. Sist. Put him off! let him put himself off, 
 an' he will ; I have no more to say to him. 
 
 Sist. Nay, you must have more to say to him, you 
 must tell him so. 
 
 Yo. Sist. Not I ; I'll never see him more. 
 
 Sist. Child, you must not be rude to him ; you 
 don't want manners. 
 
 Yo. Sist. I would not be rude to him ; that's it I 
 want your help for. 
 
 Sist. What can I do in it ? 1 cannot go down to 
 him when he comes, and tell him you will see him
 
 22 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 no more; you cannot desire me to carry such a 
 message. 
 
 Vo. Sist. No, that's true, I can't ; I know not what 
 to do, not I. 
 
 Sist. Shall I speak to my father to do it ? 
 
 Vo. Sist. I think my father is the fittest to give 
 him his answer; he brought him first on, and I think 
 he should put him off. 
 
 Sist. But he will be in such a rage, I hardly dare 
 speak of it to him. 
 
 Yo. Sist. Dear sister, he won't be angry with 
 you, his anger will be all at me. 
 
 Sist. You know, sister, my father's infirmity, that 
 if he is angry with anybody, he is angry with every 
 body ; I know he'll use me very ill if I break it to 
 him. 
 
 Yo. Sist. What shall I do then ? I'll be gone, if 
 I never come home again while I live. 
 
 Sist. No, no ; you shan't be gone ; whither will 
 you go ? 
 
 Yo. Sist. I beg of you, sister, speak to my father 
 about it. 
 
 Sist. What shall I say, if he calls for you ? will 
 you come down? 
 
 Yo. Sist. If I must I will ; but keep it off if you 
 can. 
 
 ( The eldest daughter goes down to her father a 
 little before supper ; and as soon as he saw her, he 
 began the discourse.) 
 
 Fa. Child, what's the matter with your sister? 
 her maid tells me she is not well : have you seen 
 her? 
 
 Da. Yes, sir ; I came just from her ; she is not 
 very well. 
 
 Fa. What ails her ? she must not be sick now, 
 whatever she does; why, it's ominous to be sick 
 when she is wooing.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 23 
 
 Da. I believe she is sicker of that, than of any- 
 thing else, sir ; if she was delivered from her gentle- 
 man she would be well enough. 
 
 Fa. What do you mean ! why I intend they shall 
 be married the week after next : the writings are 
 a-drawing, and I designed by and by to have given 
 her an hundred pounds towards buying her wedding- 
 clothes. 
 
 Da. You may adjourn that awhile, sir, she has 
 changed her mind. 
 
 Fa. Changed her mind I what do you mean ? 
 ( The father rises up in a great passion, and walks 
 about the room.) 
 
 Da. Dear father, do not be angry with me ; 'tis 
 no business of mine ; I had rather say no more of it, 
 for I see it will put you in a passion : but why 
 sh:)uld you be in a passion with me ? 
 
 Fa. Not in a passion ! who can but be in a pas- 
 sioi with all of you ! Changed her mind, say you ! 
 A^, and I'll change my mind too ; I'll never give 
 hei a groat, no, not a shilling, to any other man, 
 tha I'll promise her. 
 
 l)a. I dare say, sir, she has no other man in her 
 viev. 
 
 la. What does she mean then ! is she mad ! to 
 ruir. herself thus, and stand in her own light ? 
 Doe she ever expect to have such another offer ? 
 
 Di. No, I believe not, sir ; nor does she desire 
 it. 
 
 F'.. No, nor never shall ; I'll marry again, as old 
 as I im, and give away what T have to strangers, 
 befoi^ I'll give it to children that shall treat me 
 thus. 
 
 Dl Will you punish, sir, the innocent with the 
 guilt}? 
 
 Fa Why, you are all guilty, for aught I know :
 
 24 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 what do you come with such a story for ? where is 
 she ? call her down. 
 
 Da. Sir, she is very much indisposed ; if you 
 would please to let her alone till to-morrow, she 
 may be better able to speak for herself, and you 
 may not be so much in a passion with her. 
 
 Fa. Well, let her alone till morning, then ; I 
 suppose she'll change her mind again by that 
 time. 
 
 Da. I am sorry, sir, to see you take it so ill of 
 her ; but I dare say she will be the same to-morrow, 
 and as long as she lives. 
 
 Fa. Well, then I'll be of the same mind too, to- 
 morrow. 
 
 The eldest sister went up, after supper, to her 
 sister's chamber, who waited for her impatiait 
 enough. As soon as she came, she gave her sisler 
 an account of what discourse she had had with ler 
 father, and how angry he was; which, though it 
 terrified and afflicted her very much, yet it did fiot 
 move her at all to alter her resolutions ; and ^he 
 endeavoured, as well as she could, to furnish heigelf 
 with answers to give her father when he shculd 
 begin with her. But whether it was, that her 
 father was impatient to hear what she had to sal, or 
 that she believing he would not meddle with i] till 
 morning, came unwarily in his way, is not matepal ; 
 but happening to see her the same night, he died 
 her in to him, and told her he wanted to speak krith 
 her. 
 
 He began very mildly with her, which a littlj en- 
 couraged her ; for she was something surprisid at 
 his beginning to talk before she expected it J and 
 taking her by the arm, feels for her pulse. \fhat's 
 the matter with you, child ? says her father i they
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 25 
 
 told me you wasn't well ; I think your pulse beats 
 very true. 
 
 Da. I am better, sir, now ; but I was very much 
 out of order. 
 
 Fa. Only a little in love, my dear : that's all, T 
 hope. 
 
 Da. No, indeed, sir ; the contrary, to an extreme, 
 as I suppose my sister has told you. 
 
 Fa. Your sister, child ! I can lay no stress on 
 anything she said ; I cannot tell whether she was in 
 jest or in earnest. 
 
 Da. Sir, I am very sorry that what she said is 
 disobliging, and more, that it should put you into a 
 passion : I hope, when you consider of it, you will 
 be of the same mind with me. 
 
 Fa. What do you mean, child, by the same 
 mind ; I have recommended a gentleman to you, 
 whom you can have no objection against, and his 
 estate is double to what you can expect : you told 
 me yourself that you had no objection against his 
 person, and he has made you his choice, and is in 
 love with you above all your sisters ; what can you 
 desire more ? 
 
 Da. All that you say, sir, is true ; and for his 
 person, and estate, they are both better than 1 ought 
 to expect, but — 
 
 Fa. But what ? Pry 'thee, child, don't bring any 
 of your canting scruples to me, I'll hear none of 
 your buts. 
 
 Da. It was my fear that you would be in a pas- 
 sion, sir, and would not hear me. \^She cries,'] 
 
 Fa. What father can bear to be so treated, and 
 not be in a passion ? What would you have me 
 hear? 
 
 Da. Sir, I would have you hear the reasons why 
 I cannot comply. 
 
 Fa. It is enough to me to hear you cannot : the
 
 26 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 reasons I have for the match are good ; you ac- 
 knowledge the gentleman is agreeable, you cannot 
 say that you cannot love him, and I am sure then 
 you cannot give a good reason against it ; and 
 therefore I expect you go on with it : I have ap- 
 pointed the week after next for your wedding : and 
 here, there's some money to buy you clothes. 
 \_Holds out a bank hill to her.~\ 
 
 Da. Sir, I beg you will not take it ill, that I can- 
 not do it. [She pulls back her hand from the bill.'] 
 
 Fa. What do you mean ? I advise you not to 
 play the fool with me any longer. 
 
 {Here the father being in a great passion, her 
 sister, who was in pain for her, hearing him loud, 
 came iti, which greatly encouraged her ; and she 
 spoke, though very respectfully, to her father, yet 
 with great plainness.^ 
 
 Da. Sir, this seems to be a hardship that never 
 was put upon any one before : if I was going to 
 marry any one you did not like, it was no doubt in 
 your power to command me not to do it ; but I 
 cannot think you ought to command me to marry 
 any man against my will. 
 
 Fa. I have a great many reasons why I ought to 
 expect your compliance in this, and you know my 
 reasons are good. 
 
 Z)«. You cannot then but think, sir, that I have 
 some reasons against it, or I should comply with my 
 father ; for I never disobeyed you before, and why 
 should not my reasons be heard ? 
 
 Fa. I know you can have no reasons that are 
 sufficient. 
 
 T>a. Will you please to let any one else be judge 
 of that for me ? 
 
 Fa. 1 will have no arbitrators between me and 
 my children. 
 
 Da. I cannot help myself in that.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 27 
 
 Fa. My dispute with you is short : will you have 
 this gentleman, or no ? 
 
 T>a. If it was not to my father, I should give a 
 diiBPerent answer ; but I desire to say nothing that 
 may displease you. 
 
 Fa. I can't be displeased with words so much as 
 I am by actions ; the gentleman has made his way 
 through everything, made proposals too great for 
 any father to refuse ; you have entertained him, 
 showed him a great deal of respect, and now to 
 treat him thus, and treat your father thus, 'tis into- 
 lerable. 
 
 Ba. When the gentleman and you treated of 
 this matter, it was without me ; I had no knowledge 
 of it, neither was it my part to be concerned. 
 
 Fa. Well, I know that. 
 
 Da. After you were agreed, you bring him to 
 me: I suppose this to be, that I might converse 
 with him, and see if I liked to make him my 
 choice : if this was not the case, you might as well, 
 by your command, have ordered me to marry him 
 the first day, as now. 
 
 Fa. Well, what do you make of all this ? 
 
 T>a. Upon frequent visits made me, I found no- 
 thing disagreeable in him, and showed him as much 
 respect as was my part ; I hope I have not showed 
 him more than became me. 
 
 Fa. Yes, truly, if you resolve not to have him. 
 
 Da. Let him reproach me with that if he can. 
 
 Fa. Why should you have entertained him at all, 
 if you resolved not to have him ? 
 
 Da. I did not for some time resolve not to have 
 him, till I discovered him further ; and it was your 
 command that put me first upon the trial, and my 
 reasons now against it are good, if you please to 
 hear them patiently : but I'll rather bear all you
 
 28 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 please to lay on me, than put you into passions at 
 me. 
 
 Fa. I desire no reasons, nor no discourse ; an- 
 swer me the question in short, whether you will 
 have him or no ? it will raise my passion less than 
 your impertinent reasons. 
 
 Da. If it must be so, sir, without hearing any 
 reasons, then my answer is, No, never while I live ; 
 and I leave my reasons for it to him that judges 
 righteous judgment. 
 
 Fa. Then from this time forward you are no 
 relation of mine, any more than my cook-maid. 
 
 ( The young lady was too full to say any more, 
 and went out of the room tvhile he was speaking.^ 
 
 Eld. Da. Dear father, do not say so. 
 
 Fa. Nay, 'tis no matter whether she heard me or 
 no ; I'll keep my promise with her. 
 
 Eld. Da. I hope you won't, sir ; it may be my 
 sister may be better advised, or you may be further 
 satisfied of her reasons. 
 
 Fa. I know her reasons well enough ; he is not 
 hypocrite enough for her, I suppose ; if a fawning, 
 smooth-tongued fellow, would come and talk Scrip- 
 ture to her, she would take him presently ; she 
 does not know what religion is. 
 
 Eld. Da. Sir, if that were true, she would have 
 stronger reasons for desiring a religious husband 
 than she may have now, that she might have a kind 
 instructor to assist her : we have all need of helps, 
 that way, at least ; we need no profane husbands 
 to keep us back : a loose, irreligious husband, is a 
 dreadful snare. 
 
 This was a night of passion, and little was done 
 all the evening by the father but to make work for 
 repentance. He was so provoked at his daughter,
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 29 
 
 that he made terrible resolutions against her : that 
 he would never give her a farthing ; that he would 
 turn her out of doors ; that she should go to ser- 
 vice ; that he would make his will, and whatever he 
 left to the rest of his children, it should be upon 
 condition that they should never relieve her, nor 
 own her, nor call her sister, and that if they did, 
 what they had should go to his eldest son, and the 
 like. 
 
 He was so disturbed, that he got but little sleep 
 all night, and in the morning he was obliged to go 
 out of town early to his sister's, about forty miles 
 off, whose husband was just dead, so that he did not 
 see his youngest daughter any more before he went ; 
 but just as he was stepping into his chariot he called, 
 his eldest daughter to him. What, says he, child, is 
 to be done in the affair while I am gone ? she won't 
 be so rude to turn him off while I am away, will 
 she? Indeed, sir, says the daughter, I am per- 
 plexed about it; I know not how it will be managed, 
 but I believe she will see him no more. Not see 
 him ! says the father, that's the unmannerliest thing 
 in the world : sure she won't be so rude to me ; she 
 might give me the opportunity to put an end to it 
 handsomely ; pray tell her I expect it ; and, I assure 
 you, if she refuses to see him till my return, I'll 
 never see her more as long as I live. 
 
 In this temper the father went away : the eldest 
 daughter, poor lady, had her heart full with such a 
 message, and scarce knew how to deliver it : how- 
 ever, upon talking further with her sister the same 
 morning, and finding her inflexible, and perhaps 
 more stiff than she thought she needed to be, she 
 did at last deliver it ; their dialogue was short, but 
 effectual, as follows : — 
 
 Eld. Sist. Dear sister, what will you do in this 
 matter ? my father is gone.
 
 30 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Vo. Sist. What can I do ? I think my father is 
 very unkind to me. 
 
 £Id. Sist. My father is passionate, you know. 
 
 Yo. Sist. But not to hear me, not to ask my rea- 
 son, this is very hard I Do any fathers marry their 
 daughters by force ? 
 
 Eld. Sist. Why, I'll tell you what my father says 
 to that : he says he knows your reasons beforehand, 
 and he thinks them of no weight. 
 
 Yo. Sist. Dear sister, do you think them of no 
 moment ? 
 
 Eld. Sist. It's hard for a daughter to make her- 
 self judge between her father and the rest of his 
 children ; I am sorry you are so hard pushed at. 
 
 Yo. Sist. What would you do in my case ? 
 
 Eld. Sist. Indeed that's hard to say too ; I would 
 act as my conscience should tell me was my duty ; 
 I confess there is a powerful force in a father's com- 
 mand. 
 
 Yo. Sist. No father can command counter to 
 God's command. 
 
 Eld. Sist. That's true, my dear ; but consider, 
 child, how far God's command lies on you here : I 
 know your text, Be not unequally yoked ; and I re- 
 member my dear mother's words, that this cannot 
 be understood of anything but a religious person 
 marrying with a profane. 
 
 Yo. Sist. Well, sister ; and you remember the 
 charge she gave us, and the promise we made her : 
 I look upon these things to be very binding in them- 
 selves, and very sacred engagements. 
 
 Eld. Sist. They are binding, indeed, to what is 
 our duty at the same time, and they add force to it ; 
 otherwise the case would differ. 
 
 Yo. Sist. Just so I understand it ; and, I am 
 sure, reason, experience, and the nature of the 
 thing, join with it : what a wretched house must
 
 RELIGIOUS COUHTSHIP. 31 
 
 there be, whether it be the man or the woman's 
 case, where one is a Christian and t'other an infidel; 
 one devout, the other profane ; one pious and reli- 
 gious, and the other knowing or valuing nothing 
 that is serious ! what helps to heaven are such to 
 one another ! For my part, I need no wicked dis- 
 couragements to pull me back in my duty, no ill 
 examples to allure me to folly ; I want all the 
 assistance possible the other way. 
 
 Eld. Sist. You preach like an oracle, child ; I 
 cannot oppose one word you say : but what must 
 you do ? you heard what sad, rash resolutions my 
 father made. 
 
 Jo. Sist. No, I did not hear them ; and I am 
 glad I did not : but, as I am sure I am right, I must 
 do my duty, and trust Providence ; if my father 
 does not do the duty of his relation to me, I'll pray 
 to God to forgive him. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Well, but what will you do with Mr. 
 
 Yo. Sist. I have no thought about him now ; I 
 am pretty well over it. 
 
 Eld. Sist. But you must not be rude to him, even 
 upon my father's account. 
 
 Yo. Sist. Nay, I would not be rude to him for 
 his own sake, for I have no quarrel at him. 
 
 Eld. Sist. How will you avoid it, if you do not 
 see him ? 
 
 Yo. Sist. See him ! I would not venture to see 
 him upon any account. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Child, what do you call venture ? you 
 are undone if you don't see him. 
 
 Yo. Sist. I dare not trust myself to see him : I 
 am pretty well over it now, but if I see him again I 
 know not what influence my own weakness may 
 have upon my resolution ; for I must own to you, 
 sister, I have no aversion to him.
 
 32 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Eld. Sist. You might as well say you own you 
 love him. 
 
 Yo. Sist. Well, if I should own it, perhaps it 
 might bear being called so ; is it not better, then, 
 that I should avoid the struggle between conscience 
 and affection ? 
 
 Eld. Sist. But I have a strong fancy that you 
 ought to enter into a closer discourse with him 
 upon this matter ; I think you do not do either him 
 or yourself justice else: for, first, perhaps you may 
 find, that though he talked loosely then, when he 
 did not know, perhaps, whether we were in jest or in 
 earnest, yet if you talked seriously with him of the 
 main point yourself, (for you know our discourse was 
 at a distance, and was rather a kind of civil raillery 
 than argument,) you may find one of these two things 
 will happen, viz., either he will talk seriously, and 
 let you see that he has a bottom of religious, good 
 sentiments, which is all you ought to insist upon, 
 and would be a happy discovery on your side ; or 
 talk profanely, and be self-convicted. 
 
 Yo. Sist. There is more weight in this, than 
 in all you have said yet ; but I can never do it. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Well ; let me add to it, what I was 
 loath to tell you, and that is, what my father said 
 just now when he went away. 
 
 ( She tells her father s ivords, which staggers her 
 resolution.) 
 
 Yo. Sist. My father uses me very hardly. 
 
 Eld. Sist. I am sorry for it ; but it is in nobody's 
 power to help it : he would be the same to any of 
 us. 
 
 Yo. Sist. What would vou advise me to do 
 then? 
 
 Eld. Sist. Truly, if I might advise you, I would 
 have you see him once more. 
 
 Yo. Sist, To what purpose ?
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 33 
 
 Eld. Sist. Why. if it be only to try whether 
 what he said before was in jest or in earnest. 
 
 Yo. Sist. I think the discovery is not worth the 
 compUment. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Really, I can't say that. Would you 
 be contented to have it true that he is a sober and 
 religious inclined gentleman ? 
 
 Yo. Sist. Yes, with all my heart. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Is not an estate of near 2000/. a year, 
 and an agreeable gentleman, very suitable, when 'tis 
 joined with a good Christian ? 
 
 Yo. Sist. I allow it all. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Well ; and you have really not made 
 trial enough, to resolve whether it be so or not ? 
 
 Yo. Sist. So you would have me see him once 
 more, to try if I can persuade myself to be cheated ? 
 
 Eld. Sist. That's unkind : would I have you to 
 be cheated ! no, far be it from me ! but I would 
 have you leave no room to blame yourself here- 
 after. 
 
 Yo. Sist. You almost persuade me to let him 
 come to-night ; but if he does, I shall be very ill- 
 natured to him : I question whether I shall be civil 
 to him, or no. 
 
 Eld. Sist. That is not my proposal ; you may do 
 it, and be very civil and obliging too, let the thing 
 take a turn which way it will ; and I wish you would 
 try. 
 
 Yo. Sist. Well, I think, I will venture then. 
 
 The end of the first dialogue. 
 
 R. C.
 
 34 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 DIALOGUE II. 
 
 The young lady having resolved to see her gentle- 
 man once more, at the persuasion of her sister, 
 there needed nothing to be done but to sit still till 
 evening, when he was sure to come. It seems she 
 had resolved to send a footman to him, to tell him 
 she was gone out of town for two or three days, and 
 so to prevent his coming, till her father should tell 
 him in general, that it could not be a match ; and 
 to make it good, she had ordered her father's coach 
 to be ready to carry her to Hampstead, to an uncle's 
 house she had there ; but on this occasion she de- 
 ferred it, and in the evening he came, as usual, to 
 wait on her. It would not perhaps be possible to 
 set down the particulars of the courtship of this 
 night, there being a great deal of variety in it, and 
 nobody present but themselves : but the best account 
 we have of it being from her own mouth, I have set 
 it down as she related it to her sister in the following 
 dialogue. 
 
 As soon as the gentleman was gone, which, his en- 
 tertainment not being much to his mind, was some 
 hours sooner than usual, she came directly to her 
 sister, who was expecting her with the utmost impa- 
 tience, though she did not look for her so soon as 
 she came neither ; the following dialogue will give 
 an idea of the whole. 
 
 As soon as she came to her sister, she prevented 
 her thus : — 
 
 Well, sister, you have a nice guess with you ; 'tis 
 all as you said, and the business is now all done and 
 over. 
 
 1st Sist. Well, before I enter into particulars, are 
 you pleased and satisfied ?
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 35 
 
 Srd Sist Perfectly satisfied and pleased. 
 
 1*^ Sisf. Are you pleased that you have seen 
 him? 
 
 Srd Sist. Thoroughly pleased : I would not but 
 have seen him again for any good. 
 
 1st Sist. Is it as you expected ? 
 
 Srd Sist. Ay, ay, just as I expected ; a true gen- 
 tleman, perfectly educated, politely bred, that 
 knows about as much of religion as a parson's horse, 
 that is to say, knows the way to the church door, 
 but scorns to debauch his breeding with such a 
 clumsy thing as religion ; is more a gentleman, than 
 to trouble himself with the meanness of religion, and 
 not hypocrite enough to pretend to the sublimer 
 parts of it ; one that has not been long enough in 
 this world to think of the next, nor is yet come to 
 any resolution about when he shall. 
 
 ist Sist. I am sorry for it ; I assure you it is not 
 as I expected. 
 
 Srd Sist. But it is as I expected, I assure you. 
 
 ] sf Sist. Well, but though it is, I believe you are 
 not sorry you met him. 
 
 Srd Sist. No, no, not at all, I assure you ; I am 
 much the better satisfied that I have now the open 
 declarations of it from his own mouth. 
 
 1st Sist. You surprise me ; I thought he had had 
 more policy than so. 
 
 37-d Sist. I assure you, as I told you, he is no hy- 
 pocrite ; he is not ashamed to be believed to be full 
 as bad as he is, and made no doubt but I would like 
 him the better for it. 
 
 1st Sist. That's hard another way ; he could not 
 think you were so too, sure. 
 
 Srd Sist. Why he does not think he does anything 
 amiss, I assure you ; and takes it ill to be thought 
 mistaken. 
 
 1st Sist. I can scarce form all this in my mind ; 
 
 d2
 
 36 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 I wish you would tell me some of the history of 
 this night's salutation, now 'tis so fresh in your 
 thoughts. 
 
 3rd Sist. With all my heart; but it will be a long 
 story. 
 
 1st Sist. ISo matter for that ; it will be the more 
 profitable, and, 1 dare say, not the less diverting. 
 
 Srd Sist. Why after we had been together about 
 half an hour, he seemed to recollect himself, and 
 told me he asked my pardon that he had not con- 
 doled with me for the loss of my uncle sir James 
 
 ; I told him, he need not, for the loss was not 
 
 so great. He replied, he thought I appeared very 
 much concerned at it last night, which made him 
 withdraw sooner than he intended. I told him I 
 was thoughtful indeed, but not so much about that; 
 for though 1 believed my aunt was very sorry for 
 his death, yet I thought she had no great reason ; 
 for I was sure she lived a very uncomfortable life 
 with him. He wanted then very much to know 
 what I was so thoughtful about, if I was not 
 troubled at the loss of my uncle : 1 declined telling 
 him, but did it in a way that I intended should 
 prompt his curiosity; for I desired nothing more 
 than to have a fair opportunity to tell him very 
 plainly what troubled me ; and he soon gave it me. 
 He told me he took himself to be so much in- 
 terested in me now, as to be concerned in all my 
 griefs ; and he claimed to know if anything afflicted 
 me, that he might bear his share in it ; and added 
 something so handsome and so obliging on that 
 head, that I must acknowledge it shook my resolu- 
 tion very much ; and 1 had almost given over my 
 design ; but I recovered myself again in a moment 
 or two. 
 
 Isf Sist Indeed you are a resolute girl ; I think 
 what you repeat of him was engaging.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 37 
 
 3rd Sist. I told him it was natural for people to 
 make sudden transitions from other people's case to 
 their own, and that indeed that was the occasion 
 that made me so uneasy ; I knew my aunt was a 
 lady of great piety and virtue, that every one knew to 
 be exceeding religious and serious: that on the other 
 hand, sir James was a mad, frolicsome, merry fellow, 
 that neither understood any religion, or troubled 
 himself about it, but would play a thousand mad 
 tricks with her, because of her strict observation of 
 religious things ; and that this gave her a constant 
 uneasiness. He smiled, and said he hoped I was 
 not afraid of him on that score ; For, madam, says 
 he, though I pretend to no religion myself, I cannot 
 but respect them that do. This was the first, and 
 I think a considerable confirmation of what we had 
 said before ; was it not, sister ? 
 
 \st Sist I am sorry to hear it ; but I'll tell you, 
 however, there was one thing that I observe to be 
 a good foundation for religion, viz., that he respected 
 them that were religious. 
 
 Srd Sist. Ay, sister ; but we did not end here : I 
 told him I was very sorry to hear him say he had 
 no religion himself; because, as perhaps I had not 
 a great deal, to marry a man that had none would 
 endanger my losing what I had ; and I should 
 rather have a husband to help me on towards 
 heaven, than pull me back. 
 
 1st Sist. What could he say to that ? 
 
 Srd Sist. He told me he did not doubt but I 
 would go to heaven without his help ; he said jest- 
 ingly, it was a road he had never travelled ; but I 
 might be assured he would not willingly pull me 
 back, if he did not help me on. 
 
 ] St Sist. Well, there was something very honest 
 in that too. 
 
 -^ ^^ o C^ o "-i
 
 38 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 3rd Sist That's true, sister ; but negative reli- 
 gion is but a poor stock to begin on. 
 
 1st Sist. But 'tis better than a despiser of religion : 
 you ought to have acknowledged what good you 
 found. 
 
 3rd Sist. My designs lay another way ; I aimed 
 at a fuller discovery, and I soon had it. 
 
 1st Sist. Well, go on then. 
 
 3rd Sist. I told him what tricks my uncle used 
 to serve my aunt ; how he got a book of devotion 
 out of her closet once, and got a long printed 
 story about ducking a scold pasted into it ; and an- 
 other time got the ballad of Chevy Chace bound 
 into her Psalm-book ; how, when he knew she was 
 in her closet at her devotion, he would bring his 
 huntsman to feed the hounds just under her win- 
 dow ; and how one time he made a fellow cry fire, 
 and the like ; as you know, sister, he played many 
 such pranks, and would do anything to put her 
 thoughts into disorder. He told me, though he was 
 but a young fellow, and had not troubled his 
 thoughts much about religion, (there was another 
 stab to my affections, sister,) yet he said he could 
 not bear to make a jest of it neither. 
 
 1st Sist. Well, but that was another word in his 
 favour too. 
 
 3rd Sist. I replied, I was very sorry to hear him 
 own that he had not troubled his thoughts about 
 religion, and asked him upon what foundation he 
 could think of setting up a family, if that was his 
 case ? He told me he kept a chaplain, and jestingly 
 told me, he was devout enough for all the rest of the 
 house. I grew chagrin and dull ; I told him that 
 these things had filled me with very sad thoughts 
 about marrying, and it looked very dismal to me. 
 But all I could say could not bring him to believe I 
 was in earnest.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 39 
 
 Isf Sist I believe he is really very good humoured. 
 
 Srd Sist. Ay, sister, that's true ; but I look for 
 something further in a husband, or I am resolved I'll 
 have no husband at all. 
 
 1*^ Sist. Well, but pray go on with your story ; 
 what answer did he make ? 
 
 Srd Sist. He laughed at me, and told me he be- 
 lieved marrying would make him mighty religious ; 
 that he would choose a wife first, and then choose 
 his religion. 
 
 1st Sist. The man was mad, sure, to open himself 
 so fully. 
 
 Srd Sist. I appeared then really disturbed ; and, 
 whether he perceived it or no, I am sure the tears 
 stood in my eyes : however, I struggled with my 
 disorder, and told him I was very sorry, then, that 
 it was his misfortune to begin with one that could 
 not be content to marry upon those terms, and 
 hoped, when he was fully satisfied of the reason of 
 such a resolution in me, he would not take it ill 
 that I would stay for him till he had resolved more 
 seriously upon a thing of so much more import- 
 ance. 
 
 1*^ Sist. That was very cunningly answered. 
 
 Zrd Sist. Then he began to think I was in 
 earnest, and told me he hoped I would not talk so, 
 because it might be longer than he desired to be 
 without me. 
 
 1st Sist. That was still making the case worse ; 
 for it was as much as to say, he neither had any re- 
 ligion, nor intended to have any. 
 
 Srd Sist. I did not fail to take it so, and told him, 
 the longer he was without me it might be the better 
 for him, but the longer he was without religion I 
 was sure would be the worse for him ; and that I 
 wondered how a man of his sense could talk so. 
 He replied, he had rather talk of anything else, for
 
 40 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 he found this discourse did not please me ; I 
 told him, he mistook me very much ; for though I 
 confessed it did not please me to find him to be 
 what I hoped he was not, that is, a person who pre- 
 tended to no religion, yet it pleased me very well 
 that he had been so just to himself as to let me 
 know it before any engagements had passed be- 
 tween us. 
 
 1st Sist. If I had not known that my sister 
 was never courted before, I should have thought 
 you had passed a great many such encounters as 
 these. 
 
 Srd Sist You know 'tis all new to me ; but, how- 
 ever, I knew the thing was for my life, and that I 
 must speak now or never, and I was resolved to put 
 an end to it. 
 
 1st Sist. I must own you were in the right, 
 though I am persuaded I could not have said half 
 so much. 
 
 Srd Sist. Why you ha'n't heard half of it yet ; I 
 made him angry, serious, laugh, and, I think, verily, 
 once I made him almost cry. 
 
 1st Sist. I am sorry I interrupted you ; pray go 
 on then : what said he next ? 
 
 Srd Sist. He said he wondered I could say that 
 no engagements were between us ; he said he was 
 so engaged to me as he could never go back. I 
 answered, that as his engagements were from him- 
 self, so they were best known to himself ; but that 
 he knew very well I was under none to him. He 
 smiled then, and said he hoped I was. I answered, 
 I had not professed to be engaged ; I told hini, I 
 would not deny that I had respect enough for him 
 to have gone further, had not such difficulties ap- 
 peared as I could never get over, and had he been 
 the person he was represented ; but that, as it was, 
 I had too much respect for myself to ruin myself
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 41 
 
 with my eyes open, and too much respect for him to 
 keep him in suspense. 
 
 ist Sist. Would he not take that for being in 
 earnest ? 
 
 Zrd Sist. Yes, he showed me then that he took 
 me to be in earnest, and showed me that he was in 
 earnest too ; for he appeared vrarm, and a little 
 angry : he told me he was very sorry to be charged 
 with deceiving me, and asked if ever he had said 
 anything of himself which was not true ; For, 
 madam, says he, if I am not the person 1 appeared 
 to be, I must have deceived you in something ; 
 pray what sort of a person did you take me for ? I 
 replied, as warm as he, that I wondered he should 
 mistake me so much ; that I thought he did not do 
 me justice ; that I had said, indeed, he was not the 
 person he had been represented, but never said that 
 he had represented himself one way or other. Then 
 he begged my pardon again, and told me he had 
 taken me wrong ; that, whatever came of it, he 
 would never deceive me ; I should know the worst 
 of him, whether I would have him or no. Indeed, 
 sir, said I, I am persuaded you are no hypocrite. I 
 understand you, said he, you think I have used 
 more honesty than discretion. No, sir, said I, I 
 very much approve your honesty, and do not blame 
 your discretion at all. But I do, said he, for, I find, 
 if I could have counterfeited more serious things 
 than I am master of, and feigned myself a little re- 
 ligious, all had been well. I told him I would not 
 say that it was not in his power to have deceived 
 me, but I hoped he had acted a part much more like 
 a gentleman. He replied that it was hard, then, I 
 should make so unkind a return to him as to make 
 him lose his mistress for his honesty. 
 
 1st Sist, Why really, sister, so it was. 
 
 3rd Sist, I told him I thought the best return
 
 42 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 was to treat him with the same sincerity, and that 
 was the reason of the freedom I took ; that as he told 
 me plainly what he was, I must tell him plainly, I 
 could not think of engaging with him any further, 
 till he had thought a little of those things which 
 alone could make it reasonable for him to think of 
 marrying. He would fain have turned it off to a 
 jest ; he laughed at me, he bantered me, he asked 
 me how long I would stay for him ? 1 told him I 
 was in no haste. He asked me how long I thought 
 I might stay before I got a saint to my mind, as 
 the world went now ? I told him I was but an ill 
 judge of saints, and might be cheated, as wiser than 
 I had been ; but that, as I said before, I would not 
 fall into the pit with my eyes open. He told me 
 abruptly, he wished I had never seen him. At that 
 word, I confess, I was a little alarmed ; however I 
 made no answer, but looked full in his face ; I saw 
 he was concerned, and, as I thought, in a kind of a 
 passion. When he found I looked at him, he re- 
 peated the words thus, I wish with all my heart you 
 had never seen me. I answered nothing. He 
 added, he wished he had known my mind sooner. 
 I still said nothing. Then he flung himself into my 
 arms, and hung about me : My dear, says he, with 
 an inexpressible tenderness, why are you silent? 
 Because, says I, I would not give you an answer in 
 kind to anything that is disobliging : he returned, 
 it was impossible for him to say or do anything dis- 
 obliging to me ; that it was true, he wished I had 
 never seen him, and that he had known my mind 
 sooner ; but it was, that he might have disguised 
 himself better, and not have lost me for his being so 
 foolishly honest. Why, said I, would you have en- 
 deavoured to have cheated me ? Ay, certainly, said 
 he, rather than lose you ; and would have done it 
 effectually too. Why, what would you have done?
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 43 
 
 said I. Done ! replied he, I would have been the 
 soberest, gravest, young fellow, that ever you saw in 
 your life. And do you think yourself hypocrite 
 enough, said I, to have concealed yourself effectually? 
 "Why not ? said he : perhaps you think I am too 
 much a fool for it. No, sir, said I, I think you are 
 too honest for it ; and, of the two, it is much the 
 better on your side. 
 
 1st Sist. This was a kind of turn and return be- 
 tween jest and earnest : but how did it end ? 
 
 Zrd Sist. Why, he carried it on thus a long time, 
 till he put an odd case to me, which made me put a 
 short end to the discourse : we were speaking of 
 fortunes, and the grandeur of families ; at last we 
 
 came to speak of the young duke of . Why 
 
 now, says he, if his grace should come and court you 
 with the state and grandeur of his quality, the title 
 of a duchess, &c., you would not turn short upon 
 him, as you did upon me, and say. My lord duke, 
 pray what religion are you of? and yet he has no 
 more religion than I. I told him, I thought he did 
 not treat me fairly ; that it was saying nothing at 
 all, to say I would not have this man, or that man, 
 who never made any pretensions to me ; it was 
 enough to me, that 1 would let him know, I would 
 refuse all the men in the world, that should ever 
 come to me, unless I found a reverence of God, a 
 sense of religion, and a profession, at least, of the 
 duty we all owe to our Maker, had made some im- 
 pressions on them : that I might be deceived indeed 
 with an hypocrite, for it was not in me to judge of the 
 heart, and as the world was now stated, it was but 
 too probable I should ; but then it should be my 
 misery, not my fault ; and that since he seemed to 
 insinuate that I did not act in that affair with sin- 
 cerity, I had no better specimen of my resolution 
 than this, that though I was very sorry to treat him
 
 44 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 SO, who, I was satisfied, had a respect for me, and 
 whose respect I acknowledged was not disagreeable, 
 and whose estate and proposals were very much 
 better than I had reason to expect ; yet that upon 
 this one single account, I assured him I neither 
 could nor would ever discourse more with him on 
 this affair ; and hoped he would not take it ill, that 
 I was forced to be so plain with him before I could 
 persuade him I was in earnest. And having said all 
 this, I offered to rise and retire, but he held me fast 
 in his arms, and would not let me stir. 
 
 1*^ Sist. Cruel wretch ! how could you talk so to 
 him ? how did he look ? 
 
 3rd Sist. Look ! I confess, sister, his looks moved 
 me more than all the words he could have said in 
 half a year, and I shall never forget them; he seemed 
 strangely affected, and once or twice I saw tears in 
 his eyes ; but he turned his head away, and reco- 
 vered himself, and embarked me in another dis- 
 course, in spite of all I had said. Hold, says he, 
 you have broke one positive promise you made me 
 already. I told him I did not remember that I had 
 ever made him any promise at all. Yes, says he, 
 you told me just now, you would stay for me, till I 
 had made a choice in matters of religion. I told him 
 I had not broke that promise yet. Yes, he said, I 
 had, in saying I would never discourse more with 
 him on this affair. I replied then, that I would ex- 
 cept that circumstance, though I thought he need 
 not insist on it for several reasons ; first, because 
 he might find so many young ladies abroad, who 
 would not trouble their heads to make the objection 
 I had done, and that there was no occasion for him 
 to turn religious for a wife ; secondly, because 
 there was no appearance of his returning upon those 
 terms. He said that was more than I knew. But 
 pray, madam, said he, why do you lay such a mighty
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 45 
 
 Stress upon this particular? religion is an entire 
 article by itself; my being religious or not religious 
 need not obstruct our affection to one another ; I am 
 no enemy to religion. I answered, that it was indeed 
 an acceptable thing, as times went now, not to find 
 gentlemen despisers and haters of religion, and of all 
 that favoured it; but that I was assured, where there 
 was not a profession of religion, and where God v/as 
 not acknowledged, there could be no blessing ex- 
 pected ; and that I should think I had renounced God, 
 and declared war against heaven, if I should marry a 
 man that openly acknowledged he had no religion. 
 He told me he was sorry to see me run things to such 
 an extremity ; that he did not think I had been in 
 earnest, when he, in jest, said he had not thought of 
 religion ; that he would not urge me in a thing 
 which I laid so much stress upon, but would wait on 
 me again, and hoped to find me in another mind, 
 and to let me know he was not quite so bad as I 
 thought him to be. And thus we broke up. 
 1st Sist. What, did he go away angry ? 
 3rd Sist. Truly, I cannot say how he was : he 
 seemed disturbed and uneasy, and went away wil- 
 linger than I expected. 
 
 1st Sist. Ay, ay, and willinger than you desired 
 too ; I can perceive it, sister, well enough. 
 
 3rd Sist. Why, I cannot deny but I have acted 
 all this by a force upon my affection : but I should 
 have been undone ; I should never have had any 
 peace, or expected any blessing in the match ; for 
 as a religious life is the only heaven upon earth, if 
 it please God to support my resolution, I'll never 
 sell the prospect of it for an estate, or for the most 
 agreeable person alive. 
 
 1st Sist. 'Tis nobly resolved, sister! I hope you 
 will be supported in so just a resolution : but do you 
 think he will come no more ?
 
 46 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Srd Sist. I hope not ; but if he does, I resolve not 
 to see him, if I can avoid it. 
 
 We must now leave the two sisters, awhile, and 
 follow the young gentleman a little : for his story 
 does not end so. He went away very much con- 
 cerned, as above, and particularly it touched him 
 very sensibly, that he should be taken for such a 
 creature, that a sober, virtuous lady (for such he 
 was sure his mistress was) should refuse him merely 
 on account of his wicked character; and that though 
 she acknowledged she had a respect for him, she 
 was obliged to shun him, purely because she was 
 afraid of him, as a hater of religion, and therefore 
 dangerous to live with. It had run often in his 
 mind, that she had said she could expect no blessing 
 with him ; and that if she married him she should 
 think she had renounced God, and declared war 
 against heaven ; So that, to be sure, I am a dreadful 
 fellow, says he, that she dares not take me lest she 
 should appear to be a confederate with one of God's 
 enemies. 
 
 It then occurred to him, that it really was no 
 otherwise in fact; that she was in the right in it all; 
 that he had, in truth, no religion, or sense of God, 
 upon his mind, nor had ever entertained any 
 notions of religion in his thoughts, and had told her 
 so himself; and that therefore the young lady was 
 in the right of it, and if she had any fund of re- 
 ligion herself, had a great deal of reason to refuse 
 him ; that every sober woman ought to refuse him 
 upon the same account ; and that she that did not, was 
 not fit to make him a wife, or, at least, such a wife as 
 he could expect any happiness from ; that this young 
 lady had made a true judgment, and it was his 
 business not to think of persuading her to alter her 
 mind, which, in short, must lessen his opinion of
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 47 
 
 her, but to consider what state and condition he 
 was in, and what was his first business to do, to 
 deliver himself out of it, before he went to her any 
 more. 
 
 He grew uneasy upon this subject for some time, 
 and being perfectly ignorant of everything called 
 duty, having had an education wholly void of in- 
 struction, that uneasiness increased ; and not know- 
 ing which way to cast his thoughts for immediate 
 direction, he grew very melancholy and dejected : 
 he loved this young woman to an extreme, and 
 that affection was infinitely increased by her con- 
 duct in this affair, and by the extraordinary man- 
 ner of her refusing him ; but the reproaches of his 
 heart, as being such a monster that a woman that 
 even owned she loved him durst not join herself to 
 him, doubled upon him as his affections for her 
 increased. 
 
 He could not think of coming to her again, for 
 he confessed the reasons which she gave for her not 
 daring to take him were so just, and she had 
 argued them so well, that if she should abate any- 
 thing of them, he should not have so much esteem 
 for her as he had before; and yet he saw, that if she 
 did not, he could never expect to have her; and yet 
 also he could not bear the thoughts of not having 
 her, for all that. 
 
 He lived in this uneasy condition some months ; 
 his friends perceiving him to be very melancholy, 
 tried many ways to divert him, but none reached 
 his case, or if they did, they understood not how to 
 advise him ; for his relations were most like himself, 
 people of levity and gallantry, being rich and gay ; 
 a family that dealt very little in matters of religion : 
 he had an aunt, his mother's sister, who seemed 
 very much concerned about it ; but as she thought 
 all that ailed him was his being crossed in his affec-
 
 48 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 tion, she worked her thoughts about, night and 
 day, to find out a wife for him, and so to take his 
 thoughts off, and turn them another way : at length 
 she found out a young lady in the city, of a very 
 great fortune, (for she had near 20,000/. to her 
 portion,) and she plied it so warmly with him, that 
 he consented to treat of it with her friends, and his 
 circumstances being such as few fortunes would 
 refuse, he found his way clear enough, and so went 
 to visit the young lady. 
 
 It was an odd kind of courtship, you may be sure, 
 and he went about it accordingly ; for, as he con- 
 fessed afterwards, he resolved, before he saw her, 
 not to like her, or anything she said or did ; no, nor 
 ever to be in earnest with her upon the thing ; but 
 only to jest with and banter her ; and he told his 
 aunt so beforehand. However, his aunt would not 
 take him at his word, but would have him wait upon 
 her, and so he did; but he needed not to have 
 taken up any resolutions in the case, for he was 
 spoiled for courtship already, at least for most of 
 the ladies of the times ; he had no relish in any of 
 their conversation ; it was like music for one that 
 had no ear ; all the gaiety and flutter about them 
 was lost upon him ; his first mistress had treated 
 him with such solid reasoning, such serious talk, 
 and had handled him after such a manner, that, in 
 short, nothing but what was serious had now any 
 relish with him ; however, as I have said, he re- 
 solved to put a force upon himself so far as to go 
 and see what kind of thing his new mistress was ; 
 and accordingly he did go, as above. 
 
 But when he had been one evening there, and 
 had talked a little with her, he soon saw he had no 
 need of making resolutions ; that he was in no 
 danger of being ensnared by her ; the levity of her 
 behaviour, the emptiness of her discourse, the weak-
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 49 
 
 ness of her conduct, made him sick of her the very 
 first time ; and when he came away, he said to him- 
 self, Is it possible for any man in his senses to bear 
 this shuttlecock, that had but been one half hour 
 with my other mistress ! And away he came, not 
 pleased at all. However, he went again for some 
 time, till at last, not finding things mend, but 
 rather grow worse, he was resolved he would talk a 
 little with her about religion ; and as he asked her 
 one night, what religion she was of, she answered 
 him just in the very words that he had bantered his 
 other mistress with ; O, says she, 1 am a mighty 
 good Christian. I believe so, thought he, just such 
 another as I was, when I was asked the same question. 
 However, he concealed his thoughts, resolved to 
 carry it on a little further, and gave her a mighty 
 civil answer ; I don't doubt that, madam, says he. 
 Well, says she, then what would you have more ? 
 Nay, nothing, madam, returned he, I was only in 
 jest. O, says she, you want to know what opinion 
 I am of ! You see 1 am no Quaker. No, says he, 
 madam, I am not concerned about your opinion ; 
 you may easily have as much religion as I. Nay, 
 says she, I ha'n't troubled my head much about it ; 
 I don't know what I may do when I keep a chap- 
 lain. He had enough of that discourse, and so he 
 turned it ofl' to something else ; for though it was 
 almost the pattern of what he had done with his 
 first mistress, yet it looked with such a different 
 face to him now, that, as he said afterwards, it made 
 his very blood run cold within him, and filled him 
 with horror at his own picture, which, he thought 
 now, was set before his eyes in all its just deformi- 
 ties. When he came away from her, he said to him- 
 self, Well, now I see the true force of what that dear 
 creature argued for herself against me, that to ven- 
 ture upon me, while 1 declared against religion, was 
 R. c. E
 
 50 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 to run herself into the pit with her eyes open, and 
 ruin herself by mere premeditated choice : it would 
 be just so with me in this case, if I should marry 
 this butterfly, we should even go hand in hand very 
 lovingly to the Devil. This will not do my busi- 
 ness ! So he put an end to that affair as soon as he 
 could, and resolved to see her no more. 
 
 All this while he had no assistance from either 
 books, friends, ministers, or anybody, only the just 
 and natural reflection of his own reason : but as he 
 was a gentleman of polite manners, and bred to 
 conversation with gentlemen of the best quality, as 
 well as of the best parts, so the government of him- 
 self was the more easy, and he restrained the de- 
 jection of his spirits from making any extraordinary 
 discovery of itself, only that he appeared a little more 
 sedate and more thoughtful than before, and was a 
 little more retired in his way of living, but not so 
 much but that he came often into public company, 
 as before. 
 
 It happened one time, that in promiscuous con- 
 versation at a chocolate-house near the court, this 
 gentleman and seven or eight more being present, 
 the company fell from talking of news to talking of 
 religion : the discourse began about the differences 
 which had happened in France lately, and were 
 then depending between the pope and the French 
 clergy ; and of the Sorbonne or faculty of theology, 
 as they are called there, being at that time em- 
 ployed in drawing up a new system of divinity, or 
 body of doctrine, as they called it ; and as a conse- 
 quence, it was hinted how likely it was that such a 
 strict inquiry made by men of learning and virtue 
 into the fundamentals of religion, should lead them 
 at last into protestant principles, and break that 
 whole kingdom off from the errors and ignorance of 
 popery, opening the eyes of the people to Christian
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 51 
 
 knowledge. There being some sober and sensible 
 gentlemen there, the discourse was carried on very 
 gravely and judiciously, and the whole company 
 seemed to receive it with pleasure ; when a couple 
 of young beaus, who happened to be in the room, 
 beginning to be tired with a thing so much out of 
 their way, one of them rises up on a sudden, and 
 says to the other, Come, Jack, I am tired of this 
 dull, religious stuff; prythee let us go, there's no- 
 thing in it. Ay, says the other, with all my heart, 
 I know nothing of the matter : come, will you go 
 to the opera ? There sat another young gentleman 
 of their acquaintance there, and they pulled him to 
 come with them : No, says he, I like this discourse 
 very well, 'tis worth two operas to me. Why, says 
 the other, how long have you been in orders, pray ? 
 Is such stuff as that fit conversation for gentlemen ? 
 Yes, says the sober young gentleman, I think it is ; 
 pray, what can there be in religious conversation 
 that is unfit for a gentleman ? There sat an ancient 
 nobleman by, talking with a clergyman, who hearing 
 the young gentleman's reply, fell a laughing ; for 
 this discourse put the former subject to a stop. On 
 
 my word, gentlemen, says his lordship, Mr. 
 
 has met with you : I don't think you can answer his 
 question. Yes, my lord, says the foolish beau, I 
 think 'tis below a man of quality to trouble his head 
 about it. Pray, sir, says the lord, is it below a man 
 of quality to be a Christian ? O, my lord, says the 
 other beau, bantering and jesting, we are mighty 
 good Christians at the opera ; and turning away to 
 his comrade, says he, Come, come. Jack, pr'ythee 
 let's go ; so they went both out together, for they 
 did not care to engage. Our gentleman listened 
 with pleasure to all this discourse, till he heard that 
 word, mighty good Christians, and then reflected 
 upon his having used that expression to his m'^- 
 
 e2
 
 52 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 tress, and how his last lady gave him the same re- 
 turn ; but he thought it was so empty, so absurd a 
 turn, to a thing of that consequence, that he re- 
 proached himself with having talked so foolishly, and 
 was ashamed to think how like one of these fops he 
 had appeared to her, and how he had talked after 
 the same senseless way, which he now looked upon 
 to be the most empty, scandalous thing in the 
 world. 
 
 When the two young rakes were gone, the lord, 
 turning to the young gentleman that had refused 
 them, complimented him upon his having given 
 them so handsome an answer, and having run them 
 both aground in one inquiry. My lord, said the 
 gentleman, if my question run them aground, 
 your lordship's question quite confounded them. 
 Indeed, my lord, continued he, 'tis too much the- 
 notion now, especially among persons of quality, 
 that 'tis below them to be religious. My lord said 
 it was so indeed ; but that he would fain ask such 
 people, whether they thought St. Paul was a gen- 
 tleman or no ? And whether he did not show as 
 much good breeding and good manners, when he 
 appeared before Agrippa, Festus, and the governor 
 Sergius Paulus, as any nobleman in Britain could 
 have done at the bar of the house of lords ? Upon 
 this subject his lordship went on for half-an-hour, 
 with a discourse so handsome, so to the purpose, 
 and yet so serious, that it highly entertained the 
 company ; showing how it became every man of 
 quality to behave himself in subjection to the rules 
 given him by his Maker, as it became every sub- 
 ject to honour his governor ; how piety and religion 
 were the glory of a man of quality, and made nobi- 
 lity truly illustrious ; that it was so far from being 
 true, that religion was not suited to the life of a 
 gentleman, that it was certain a man could not
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 53 
 
 truly be a gentleman without it ; that religion was 
 so far from being a dull phlegmatic thing, and useless 
 in conversation, as was the fashionable notion of the 
 town, that really no man could be so bright, so per- 
 fectly easy, so cheerful, so sociable, and so always 
 in humour for society, as a Christian ; that re- 
 ligion was the beauty of conversation, and assisted 
 to make it pleasant and agreeable ; that, without it, 
 company was empty, discourse unprofitable, society 
 unpleasant ; and, in short, that conversation, with- 
 out a mixture of something regarding religion, and 
 a due connection with it, was like a dance without 
 music, or a song without measure; like poetry 
 without quantity, or speech without grammar. 
 That it was a mistake to think Christianity received 
 honour from the dignity of the persons who pro- 
 fessed it ; and his lordship said, he wondered to 
 hear men express themselves so absurdly vain, as to 
 say, such a man is an honour to religion ; that the 
 thing was true only in the reverse, and it should 
 be said religion is an honour to such a person ; that 
 it was a contradiction in the very nature of the 
 things, to say, such a man was noble, great, honour- 
 able, or a gentleman, without religion ; and it might 
 with every jot as much sense be said so of a person 
 who had neither birth, family, or manners. 
 
 Our gentleman came home charmed with this 
 discourse, as indeed the whole company were be- 
 sides ; especially considering the authority and dig- 
 nity of the person who spoke it ; his mind was 
 inspired with new thoughts by it, both of religion 
 and of himself : he not only saw more of the excel- 
 lency of religion in itself, but began to see clearly 
 it was the ornament of a gentleman to be a Chris- 
 tian. It was with the greatest contempt that he 
 now looked back upon the notion he had formerly 
 espoused of a gentleman's being above troubling
 
 54 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 himself with serious things. How sordid and 
 brutish did the two beaus appear, said he, com- 
 pared to that noble and excellent person, my lord 
 
 ! How were they laughed at and despised by 
 
 all the gentlemen in the company, and looked upon 
 as fellows fit for nothing, but in the highway to 
 disaster! On the other hand, it occurred to him, 
 how handsomely did that young gentleman answer 
 them ; with what modesty did he speak, and yet 
 boldly, in defence of a religious life; and what an 
 honour was paid him for it, by all the company, and by 
 the nobleman in particular ! and then to think of 
 what that lord had said, with what applause it was 
 received ; how all the company listened to his lord- 
 ship, as to an oracle ; how general a consent was 
 given to it by all the gentlemen : and, in a word, 
 how agreeable the conversation of the day was, put 
 it altogether ; and yet, said he, of eleven gentlemen 
 in the room, there was not one man among them, 
 except the clergyman, who was not above me both 
 in quality and estate. 
 
 From all this he drew this general and happy con- 
 clusion for himself, viz., that he should never be 
 a complete gentleman, till he became a religious 
 man ; and that the more of a Christian he was, the 
 fitter he should be for the conversation of the best 
 and greatest men in the kingdom ; and in conse- 
 quence of this resolution, he resolved to apply him- 
 self seriously to the study of religious things. 
 
 To avoid the usual diversions of the town, while 
 these serious thoughts were upon him, he resolved 
 to retire into the country, to a little seat he had in 
 Hampshire, remote from all conversation, and where 
 he had nobody to talk to but his own servants, or 
 some of the neighbourhood, who were all his 
 tenants. When he found himself so perfectly alone, 
 it began to be a little to o much for him, and he
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 55 
 
 grew very heavy, and a little hypochondriac ; his 
 mind was oppressed with the thoughts of his cir- 
 cumstances, but dark as to the due inquiries he ought 
 to have made ; at length he roused himself a little 
 with these thoughts : 
 
 I talk of being religious ! and being a Christian ! 
 Why, I understand nothing of it, or how to go 
 about it. What is it ? What is religion ? And 
 what is it to be a Christian ? He puzzled himself 
 vith the questions, and knew not what answer to 
 give himself, when it came thus into his mind ; Did 
 not the first dear preacher (meaning the young 
 lady he had courted) tell me what religion was ? 
 and how she understood it, viz., a reverence of 
 'jrod, a sense of his worship, and impressions of 
 duty to him that made us. This certainly is reli- 
 gion, and this is to be religious. But which way 
 must I go about it ? 
 
 He was seriously musing on this part one even- 
 iig, walking all alone in a field near his house, 
 vhen he began to look with great concern upon the 
 tvant which he felt of an early foundation being laid 
 in his mind by a religious education. Sure, said 
 he to himself, we that are men of fortune are the 
 most unhappy part of mankind ; we are taught no- 
 thing. Our ancestors have had so little notion of 
 religion themselves, that they never so much as 
 thought of it for their children ; I don't wonder 
 they have thought it below them, for, knowing little 
 or nothing of it themselves, they had no other ex- 
 cuse to one another for the leaving their children 
 entirely destitute of it, but by pretending it was be- 
 low their quality. This flung him into a reflection 
 which raised this sudden passionate expression, 
 God be merciful unto me ! says he. What is be- 
 come of my father and grandfather ! He went on 
 thus, Who am I ! a gentleman ! I am attended by
 
 56 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 servants ; sirred, and worshipped, and honoured 
 here by a parcel of poor workmen and tenants, that 
 think themselves nothing to me, and are half 
 frighted if they do but see me ; and I am in the 
 sight of him that made me, and in my own too, 
 a dog, a monster, a thousand times worse creature 
 than the meanest of them ; for I am a wretch with 
 a soul, and yet know nothing of him that gave it 
 me ; a soul commanded to serve and obey the God 
 that made it, and yet never taught to know him. 
 
 There lives a poor ploughman, and yonder lives a 
 poor farmer ; they both fare hard and work hard ; 
 how sober, how religious, how serious are they! 
 how are they daily teaching and instructing thei: 
 children ! and how were they taught and instructed 
 by their parents ! and there's scarce a boy of tei 
 years old in their families, but knows more of Goc 
 and religion than I do ; I have been taught nothing 
 and know nothing but this, that I am under the 
 curse of darkness in the midst of light ; ignorance 
 in the midst of knowledge; and have more tc 
 give an account of, than a negro of Africa, or ai 
 savage of America. 1 
 
 He had wandered so long in these meditations, 
 not minding his way, that he found night coming 
 on, and he scarce knew he was so far from his own 
 house till he looked about him ; then he resolved to 
 go back, so he broke off his thoughts awhile, and 
 made little haste homeward. In his way, he necessa- 
 rily went by a poor labouring man's door, who, with a 
 wife and four children, lived in a small cottage on the 
 waste, where he (the gentleman) was lord of the 
 manor ; as he passed by he thought he heard the 
 man's voice, and stepping up close to the door, he 
 perceived that the poor good old man was praying 
 to God with his family ; as he said afterwards, his 
 heart sprung in his breast for joy at the occasion, 
 
 *
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 5< 
 
 and he listened eagerly to hear what was said. The 
 poor man was, it seems, giving God thanks for his 
 condition, and that of his little family, which he did 
 with great aflPectlon, repeating how comfortably they 
 lived, how plentifully they were provided for, how 
 God had distinguished them in his goodness, that 
 they were alive, when others were snatched away 
 by disasters ; in health, when others languish 
 with pain and sickness ; had food, when others 
 were in want ; at liberty, when others were in pri- 
 son ; were clothed and covered, when others were 
 naked and without habitation ; concluding with ad- 
 miring and adoring the wonders of God's providence 
 and mercy to them, who had deserved nothing. 
 
 He was confounded, and struck as it were speech- 
 less, at the surprise of what he had heard ; no- 
 thing could be more affecting to him. He came 
 away (for he had stayed as long as his heart 
 could hold) and walked to some distance, and there 
 stopped, looked up, and round him, as he said, to 
 see if he was awake, or if it was a dream. At last 
 he got some vent to his thoughts, and throwing 
 out his arms. Merciful God I says he, is this to be 
 a Christian ! What then have I been all my days ! 
 What's this man thus thankful for ! Why, my dogs 
 live better than he does in some respects, and is he 
 on his knees adoring infinite goodness for his enjoy- 
 ments I Why I have enjoyed all I have, and never 
 had the least sense of God's goodness to me, or ever 
 once said, God, I thank thee for it, in my life. Well 
 might a sober woman be afraid of me. Is this 
 humble temper, this thankfulness, for mere poverty! 
 Is this the effect of being a Christian ! Why, then 
 Christians are the happiest people in the world ! 
 Why, I should hang myself if I was to be reduced 
 to a degree of a hundred times above him ; and yet 
 here is peace, ease of mind, satisfaction in circum-
 
 58 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Stances, nay, thankfulness, which is the excess of^ 
 human felicity ; and all this in a man that just 
 lives one degree above starving. We think our 
 farmers poor slaves, who labour and drudge in the 
 earth to support us that are their landlords, and 
 who look upon us like their lords and masters. 
 Why this poor wretch is but a drudge to those 
 drudges, a slave of slaves ; and yet he gives God 
 thanks for the happiness of his condition ! Is this 
 the frame of religious people ! What a monster am I ! 
 Then he walked a little way further, but not being 
 able to contain his astonishment, I'll go back, says 
 he, to poor William, (for he knew his name,) he 
 shall teach me to be a Christian ; for I am sure I 
 know nothing of it yet. 
 
 Away he goes back to the poor man's house, and, 
 standing without, he whistled first, and then called 
 William ! William ! The poor man, his family wor- 
 ship being over, was just going to supper, but hear- 
 ing somebody whistle, he thought it might be some 
 stranger that had lost his way, as is often the case 
 in the country, and went to the door, where he saw 
 a gentleman stand at some distance ; but not seeing 
 him perfectly, because it was dusk, he asked who it 
 was, but was surprised when he heard his voice, and 
 knew who it was. 
 
 Don't you know me, William ? says his landlord. 
 
 William. Indeed I did not know your worship at 
 first ; I am sorry to see you out so late, and't please 
 your worship, and all alone ; I hope you an't on 
 foot too ? 
 
 Landlord. Yes I am, William : indeed I have 
 wandered through the wood here a little too far, 
 before I was aware : will you go home with me, 
 William ? 
 
 Will. Yes, and't please your worship to accept o' 
 me, with all my heart ; you shall not go alone in
 
 I RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 59 
 
 the dark thus : and't please your worship to stay a 
 bit, I'll go call Goodman Jones, and his son too ; 
 we'll all see you safe home. 
 
 La. No, no, I'll have none but you, William: 
 come along. 
 
 Will. And't please you I'll take my bill in my 
 , hand, then, 'tis all the weapons I have. 
 
 La. Well, do then ; but how will you do to leave 
 your wife and children ? 
 
 Will. God will keep them, I hope, and't please 
 your worship ; his protection is a good guard. 
 
 La. That's true, William ; come along, then ; I 
 ihope there are no thieves about. {They go to- 
 \ g ether.) 
 
 Will. Alas ! and't please your worship, 'tis a 
 I sorry thief would rob a cottage. 
 
 La. Well ; but that little you have, William, it 
 is something to you, and you would be loth to 
 lose it. 
 
 Will. Indeed I could ill spare what I have, though 
 I it be very mean, because I could not buy more in 
 the room of it. 
 
 La. 1 know you are poor, William : how many 
 children have you ? 
 
 Will. I have four, and't please j'^ou. 
 La. And how do you all live ? 
 Will. Indeed, and't please you, we live all by my 
 hard labour. 
 
 La. And what can you earn a day, William ? 
 Will. Why, and't please you, I can't get above 
 ten-pence a day now ; but when your worship's 
 good father was alive, he always gave the steward 
 order to allow me twelve-pence a day, and that was 
 a great help to me. 
 
 La. Well, but William, can your wife get no- 
 thing ?
 
 60 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Will. Truly, now and then she can, in the sum- 
 mer ; but it is very little : she's but weakly. 
 
 La. And have you always work, William ? 
 
 Will. Truly, and't please you, sometimes I have 
 not ; and then it is very hard with us. 
 
 La. Well, but you do not want, I hope, William ? 
 
 Will. No, blessed be God, and't please you, we 
 do not want ; no, no, God forbid I should say we 
 want ; we want nothing, but to be more thankful 
 for what we have. 
 
 {This struck him to the heart, that this poor 
 wretch should say he ivanfed nothing, S^c.) 
 
 La. Thankful, William ! why what hast thou to 
 be thankful for ? 
 
 Will. O dear! and't please you, I should be a 
 dreadful wretch if 1 should not be thankful ; what 
 should become of me, if I had nothing but what I 
 deserve ? 
 
 La. Why, what couldst thou be worse than thou 
 art, William ? 
 
 Will. The Lord be praised, and't please your 
 worship, I might be sick or lame, and could not 
 work, and then we must all perish ; or I might be 
 without a cover ; your worship might turn me out 
 of this warm cottage, and my wife and children 
 would be starved with cold : how many better 
 Christians than I are exposed to misery and want, 
 and I am provided for ? Blessed be the Lord, 1 
 want for nothing, and't please you. 
 
 {It was dark, and William could not see him ; 
 but he owned afterwards that it made his heart burn 
 within him to hear the poor man talk thus ; and the 
 tears came out of his eyes so fast, that he walked 
 thirty or forty steps before he coidd speak to him 
 agai7i.) 
 
 La. Poor William ! thou art more thankful for » 
 
 4
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 61 
 
 thy cottage, than ever I was for the manor-house : 
 prythee, William, can you tell me how to be thank- 
 ful too ? 
 
 Will. And't please your worship, I don't doubt 
 but you are more thankful than I ; you have a vast 
 estate, and are lord of all the country I know not 
 how far ; to be sure you are more thankful than I, 
 and't please you. 
 
 La. I ought to be so, you mean, William ; I know 
 that ; for it all comes from the same hand. 
 
 Will. 1 don't doubt but you are very thankful to 
 God, and't please you, to be sure you are ; for he 
 has given your worship great wealth ; and where 
 much is given, you know, and't please you, much is 
 required ; to be sure you are much more thankful 
 than I. 
 
 La. Truly, William, I'd give a thousand pound I 
 were as happy and as thankful as thou art : prythee, 
 William, tell me how I shall bring myself to be 
 thankful ; for though thou art a poorer man, 1 be- 
 lieve thou art a richer Christian than I am. 
 
 Will. O ! and't please your worship, I cannot 
 teach you ; I am a poor labouring man ; I have no 
 learning. 
 
 La. But what made you so thankful, William, for 
 little more than bread and water ? 
 
 Will. O sir I and't please you, my old father used 
 to say to me, that to compare what we receive with 
 what we deserve will make anybody thankful. 
 
 La. Indeed that's true, William : alas ! we that 
 are gentlemen are the unhappiest creatures in the 
 world ; we can't quote our fathers for anything that 
 is fit to be named: was thy father as thankful 
 as thou art, William ? 
 
 Will. Yes, and't please you, sir, and a great deal 
 more : O ! I shall never be so good a Christian as 
 my father was.
 
 62 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 La. I shall never be so good a Christian as thou 
 art, William. 
 
 Will. I hope you are, and't please you, much 
 better already ; God has blessed your worship with 
 a vast great estate, and if he gives you grace to 
 honour him with it, he has put means in your wor- 
 ship's hands to do a great deal of good with it, and't 
 please you. 
 
 La. But you have a better estate than I, Wil- 
 liam. 
 
 Will. I an estate ! and't please you, I am a poor 
 labouring man ; if I can get bread by my work for 
 my poor children, it is all I have to hope for on this 
 side eternity. 
 
 La. William ! William ! thou hast an inheritance 
 beyond this world, and I want that hope ; I am very 
 serious with thee, William: thou hast taught me 
 more this one night, of the true happiness of a 
 Christian's life, that ever I knew before ; I must 
 have more talk with thee upon this subject ; for 
 thou hast been the best instructor I ever met 
 with. 
 
 Will. Alas ! sir, I am a sorry instructor, I want 
 help myself, and't please you ; and sometimes, the 
 Lord knows, I am hardly able to bear up under my 
 burden ; but, blessed be God, at other times I am 
 comforted, that my hope is not in this life. 
 
 La. I tell thee, William, thy estate is better than 
 all mine ; thy treasure is in heaven, and thy heart's 
 there too ; I would give all my estate to be in thy 
 condition. 
 
 Will. O sir, I hope your worship is in a better 
 condition than I every way. 
 
 La. Look you, W^illiam, I am very serious with 
 thee ; thou knowest how I have been brought up, 
 for you remember my father very well. 
 
 tVill. Yes, I do indeed ; he was a good man to
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 63 
 
 the poor : I was the better for him many a day ; he 
 was a worthy gentleman. 
 
 La. But, William, he never took any care of us 
 that were his children, to teach us anything of reli- 
 gion ; and this is my case, as it is the case of too 
 many gentlemen of estates ; we are the unhappiest 
 creatures in the world ; we are taught nothing, and 
 we know nothing of religion, or of him that made 
 us ; 'tis below us, it seems. 
 
 Will. 'Tis great pity, indeed, and't please you ; 
 but I know it is so too often ; there's young sir 
 
 Thomas , your worship's cousin, he is a pretty 
 
 youth, and may make a fine gentleman ; but though 
 he is but a child, he has such words in his mouth, 
 and will swear so already, it grieves me to hear him 
 sometimes. It is true, his father is dead ; but sure 
 if my lady knew it, she would teach him better ; it 
 is pity so hopeful a young gentleman should be 
 ruined. 
 
 La. And who do you think spoiled him ? 
 
 Will. Some wicked children, that they let him 
 play with, I believe, or some loose servants. 
 
 La, No, no, William, only his own father and 
 mother ; I have heard his father take him when he 
 was a child, and make him speak lewd words, and 
 sing immodest songs, when the poor child did not 
 so much as know the meaning of what he said, or 
 that the words were not fit for him to speak : and 
 you talk of my lady ! why, she will swear and curse 
 as fast as her coachman : how should the child 
 learn any better ? 
 
 Will. O dear, that is a dreadful case indeed, 
 and't please you ! then the poor youth must be 
 ruined of necessity ; there's no remedy for him, un- 
 less it pleases God to single him out by his distin- 
 guishing invincible grace. 
 
 La. Why, his case, William, is my case, and the
 
 64 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 case of half the gentlemen in England : what God 
 may do, as you say, by his invincible grace, I know 
 not ; nor scarce know what you mean by that 
 word ; we are from our infancy given up to the 
 Devil, almost as directly as if we were put out to 
 nurse to him. 
 
 Will. Indeed, sir, and't please you, the gentlemen 
 do not think much of religion ; I fear it was always 
 so ; the Scripture says, Not many rich, not many 
 noble are called; and it is the poor of this world, 
 that are rich in faith, James ii. 5. 
 
 La. I find it so indeed, William, and I find my- 
 self at a dreadful loss in this very thing ; I am con- 
 vinced the happiness of man does not consist in the 
 estate, pleasures, and enjoyments of life ; if so, the 
 poor alone would be miserable, and the rich man 
 only be blessed ; but there is something beyond 
 this world, which makes up for all that is deficient 
 here : this you have, and I have not ; and so, 
 William, you in your poor cottage are richer and 
 more happy than I am with the whole manor. 
 
 Will. Indeed, sir, if in this world only we had 
 hope, the poor would be of all men the most miser- 
 able ; blessed be the Lord, that our portion is not 
 in this life. But, sir, and't please you, I hope you 
 will not discourage yourself neither ; for God has 
 not chosen the poor only ; rich men have tempta- 
 tions from the world, and hindrances very many, 
 and it is hard for them to enter into the kingdom of 
 heaven, but they are not shut out ; the gate is not 
 barred upon them because they are rich. 
 
 La. I know not how it is, William, nor which 
 way to begin ; but I see so many obstructions in 
 the work, that I doubt I shall never get over it. 
 
 Will. Do not say so, I beseech you, sir, and't 
 please you ; the promise is made to all ; and if God 
 has given you a heart to seek him, he will meet you
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 65 
 
 and bless you, for he has said, Their hearts shall 
 live that seek the Lord. Many great and rich men 
 have been good men : we read of good kings, and 
 good princes ; and if your difficuhies are great, you 
 have great encouragements ; for you that are great 
 men, have great opportunities to honour God, and 
 do good to his church ; poor men are denied these 
 encouragements ; we can only sit still, and be 
 patient under the weight of our sorrows, and our 
 poverty, and look for his blessing, which alone 
 makes rich, and adds no sorrow to it. 
 
 La. But tell me, William, what is the first step 
 such a poor uneducated thing as I am should take ? 
 I see a beauty in religion, which I cannot reach : I 
 see the happiness which thou enjoyest, William, in 
 an humble, religious, correct life ; I would give all 
 my estate to be in thy condition ; I would labour at 
 the hedge and the ditch, as thou dost, could I have 
 the same peace within, and be as thankful, and have 
 such an entire confidence in God as thou hast ; I 
 see the happiness of it, but nothing of the way how 
 to obtain it. 
 
 Will. Alas! sir, and't please you, you do not 
 know my condition ; I am a poor disconsolate 
 creature ; I am sometimes so lost, so dark, so over- 
 whelmed with my condition, and with my distresses, 
 that I am tempted to fear God has forgotten to be 
 gracious ; that I am cast off, and left to sink under 
 my own burden : I am so unworthy, so forgetful of 
 my duty, so easily let go my hold, and cast off my 
 confidence, that I fear often I shall despair. 
 
 La. And what do you do then, William ? 
 
 Will. Alas ! sir, I go mourning many a day, and 
 waking many a night ; but I bless the Lord, I 
 always mourn after him ; I always cleave to him ; I 
 am not tempted to run from him ; I know I am un- 
 done, if I seek comfort in any other : Alas ! whither 
 
 R. c. F
 
 66 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 else shall I go? I cry night and day, Return, 
 return, father ! and resolve to lie at his foot ; 
 and that, if he slay me, yet I tvill trust in him : and 
 blessed be the God of my hope, he does send 
 comfort and peace, though sometimes it is very long. 
 
 La. Well, William, and this is a disconsolate 
 condition ? Would you change your condition with 
 me that am the rich glutton ? 
 
 Will. O do not say so of yourself, and't please 
 you ; God has touched your worship's heart, I per- 
 ceive, with an earnest desire after him ; you have a 
 gracious promise, that would greatly encourage 
 you, if you would but take it to yourself 
 
 La. Encourage me, William ! that's impossible : 
 what can encourage me ? What promise is it you 
 talk of, that looks towards me ? 
 
 Will. Why, and't please you, I heard you say 
 you would change your condition with such a poor 
 wretch as I ; you would labour at the hedge and 
 the ditch, to have the knowledge of God and reli- 
 gion, and to be able to be thankful to him, and 
 have a confidence in him : this implies that you 
 have a longing earnest desire after him, and after 
 the knowledge of his truth. 
 
 La. Indeed, that is true, William. 
 
 Will. Then there are many comforting Scrip- 
 tures, which speak directly to you, sir, viz.. Blessed 
 are they that hunger and thirst after righteousness, 
 for they shall be filled : The longing soul shall be 
 satisfied: He will satisfy the desires of all those 
 that fear him ; and the like. 
 
 La. But what must I do ? Which is the way an 
 ignorant wretch must take ? 
 
 Will. Sir, and't please you, the way is plain : we 
 must pray to him ; prayer is the first duty, and 
 prayer is the greatest privilege we can enjoy in the 
 world.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 67 
 
 La. Ay, William ; but there is a great deal re- 
 quired in prayer, that I am an utter stranger to : I 
 never prayed in my life ; no, nor, I believe, my 
 father or grandfather before me, William : I came 
 of a cursed race, William, and, I doubt, 'tis entailed 
 upon the family, like the estate. 
 
 Will. O, sir, do not say that: the Scripture is 
 plain, and't please you, that the children shall not 
 be punished for the father's transgression. 
 
 La. But then, certainly, they must not tread in 
 their father's steps, as I do exactly, William. 
 
 Will. That's true, indeed, sir, they must not 
 tread in those steps. 
 
 La. But what dost talk, then, of prayer being the 
 first duty ? why, if that be the first thing, I must 
 not begin ; for how can such a creature as I pray to 
 God? 
 
 Will. As the Spirit of God will assist those whose 
 hearts are towards him, so we must pray that we 
 may be taught to pray. 
 
 La. Is it not a difficult thing for a man to pray 
 to God, William, that scarce ever thought of God in 
 all his life ? 
 
 Will. Well, sir ; but who do you think put those 
 thoughts into your mind which you now have ? and 
 who opened your eyes, sir, to see a beauty in reli- 
 gion, as now you see ? and touched your heart with 
 such an earnest desire after the ways and thiflgs of 
 God, as you now expressly say you have ? do you 
 think this is not of God, and't please you ? 
 
 I^a. Indeed, William, I know not ; it would be a 
 very delightful thing to me if I thought it was so. 
 
 Will. Without question, sir, it is : man can have 
 no such power ; nature prompts us to evil thoughts, 
 and evil desires, and to them only ; the imagina- 
 tion of the thoughts of our hearts are evil, and only 
 evil; if there are any good motions or heavenly 
 
 f2
 
 68 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 desires in the heart, they are from God : every 
 good gift, and every ^perfect gift, comes down from 
 above; 'tis his power works them, his invisible 
 grace forms all holy desires in the soul. 
 
 La. Well ; and what do you infer from thence, 
 William ? 
 
 Will. Why, sir, and't please you, if God has 
 begun a good work, he will perfect it ; if he has 
 turned your face towards him^ he will lift up your 
 heart to him : to pray to God is as natural to a con- 
 vert, as to cry after the father or mother is to an 
 infant. 
 
 La. Thou speakest, William, with more clearness 
 than ever I heard before ; but 'tis a strange thing 
 to me to talk of praying to God ! I pray ! that ex- 
 cept just the common road of going to church, can- 
 not say that ever I kneeled down to pray to God 
 once in all my life : how shall I pray ? 
 
 Will. That's sad, indeed, and't please you ; I am 
 sorry to hear your worship say so : does any creature 
 live, and not pray to God ! O dear ! that's a sad, 
 dreadful thing, in truth ! But, however, sir, do not 
 let that hinder you now. 
 
 La. How dost mean hinder me ? what can be 
 said to hinder me doing what I have no knowledge 
 in, no notion of, no inclination to ? 
 
 Will. O, sir, and't please you, you mistake your 
 own condition very much : do not discourage your- 
 self thus ; you know how to pray better than many 
 that make much noise with their devotion, 1 see it 
 plainly. 
 
 La. I pray ! William ; I pray ! I tell thee, I 
 never prayed in my life, as I know of 
 
 Will. And't please your worship not to be angry 
 with me for my plain way 
 
 La. Pry thee, William, be plain, and speak freely; 
 don't worship me and sir me now ; talk to me as if
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 69 
 
 T were your neighbour or comrade ; these are not 
 things to talk of with cringes and bows : I am 
 a wretched, contemptible, poor, rich man ; thou art 
 a poor, rich, happy Christian. Talk plainly to me, 
 William, the coarser the better, I like it best ; there 
 will be no difference, William, between thee and I 
 hereafter, but what will be on thy side : tell me, 
 therefore, what you mean, William, by my pray- 
 ing ! 
 
 JVill. Why, sir, you allow me to be plain then ; 
 I say, you mistake your own condition, and thereby 
 put off the comfort you might receive ; I say, you 
 do pray, and know better how to pray, than many 
 that come to church and appear as if they prayed 
 every day. 
 
 La. You must explain yourself, William, I do not 
 understand you. 
 
 Will. Why, sir, those earnest desires you have 
 after the knowledge of God, and after the true wor- 
 ship of God, which is the sum of religion, I say, 
 those earnest desires are really prayers in their own 
 nature ; sincere wishes of the heart for grace, are 
 prayers to God for grace ; prayer itself is nothing 
 but those wishes and desires put into words, and 
 the first is the essential part ; for there may be 
 words used without the desire, and that is no 
 prayer, but a mockery of God ; but the desires of 
 the heart may be prayers, even without the words. 
 
 La. You surprise me a little, William. 
 
 Will. Besides, sir, and't please you, those earnest 
 desires you have after religion, and after the know- 
 ledge of God, will force you to pray, first or last, in 
 a verbal prayer ; they will break out like a flame 
 that cannot be withheld ; your heart will pray when 
 you know not of it : praying to God, sir, is the first 
 thing a sense of religion dictates, as a child crieth 
 as soon as it is born.
 
 70 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 La. Alas ! William, I know nothing of it ; I am 
 such an unaccountable wretch, God knows, I know 
 nothing what belongs to praying, not I ; thou hast 
 let me see further into it, by that thou saidst just 
 now, than ever I saw or heard before. 
 
 IVill. Why, look ye now, and't please you, I told 
 you it would break out when you knew not of it, 
 and you would pray to God before you were aware : 
 did you not pray just now ? 
 
 La. Pray ! why, what did I say ? I said I know 
 nothing of prayer. 
 
 Will. Nay, that was not all : what is the meaning 
 of those words, Alas, William ! and whence came 
 that sigh when you called yourself that hard name ? 
 and what was the sense of your soul but this, God 
 be merciful to me, and teach me to pray ; for, alas ! 
 I know nothing what belongs to praying : was not 
 all this praying ? 
 
 La. Indeed, William, my heart had such a kind 
 of meaning ; but I cannot form the thought into 
 words, no, not into my very soul. 
 
 Will. It is all one, sir : God, that moves the soul, 
 certainly hears his own motion ; how should he but 
 hear it? is it not his own working! The prepara- 
 tion of the heart, and the ansiver of the tongiie, is of 
 the Lord : he will hear every sincere desire which 
 he forms in your soul, whether it be conceived into 
 words or no ; for it is the voice of his own spirit and 
 grace. 
 
 La. Thou art a comforting preacher, William ; I 
 don't wonder you enjoy snch a shining beam of light 
 in your own soul, when you have such a sense of 
 things as this: you shall be my instructor, William; 
 I may call you father rather ; for thou art better to 
 me than ten fathers. 
 
 Will. O, sir, and't please you, my discomforts are 
 very great, and the beam you speak of is very dim
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 71 
 
 in me ; do not speak of such things of me, it makes 
 me very sad, for I know my own darkness : I am a 
 poor despised creature. 
 
 La. Well, but God may make you an instrument 
 of good to me, or to any one he pleases : I never 
 had thus much instruction in my life, William ; you 
 will not be backward to do good, I hope, if it be 
 thus cast in your way. 
 
 Will. I shall be very glad, if such a worm as I 
 am should be an instrument in God's hand to com- 
 fort or inform your worship, and shall praise God 
 for the occasion as long as I live ; and indeed I re- 
 joice, and't please you, to see your worship inquiring 
 after these things ; I pray God increase the know- 
 ledge of himself in your mind, and comfort you 
 with the hope of his presence and blessing. 
 
 La. Amen : I thank you, William. 
 
 Will. Look you now, sir, and't please you, did you 
 not pray then again ? 
 
 La. I joined with you, William ; I don't know ; 
 but if that be praying, I think I did pray. 
 
 Will. Thus God will move your heart to pray to 
 him : and I beseech your worship to read the 
 Scriptures ; read them much, read them seriously, 
 and pray, sir, observe this one thing, when you 
 read, which I have experienced often, and very 
 comfortably ; and I dare say, you and everyone 
 that reads the word of God, with desire of a 
 blessing, will experience the like, viz., when you 
 are reading, and come to any place that touches 
 you, and that your mind is affected with, you shall 
 find, even whether you will or no, your heart will 
 every now and then lift itself up thus, Lord ! make 
 good this word to me ! Lord ! draw my heart thus 
 to thee ! Lord ! help me thus to seek thee, and the 
 like ; and be not afraid to call that praying ; for 
 mental petition is prayer as well as words ; and is,
 
 72 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 perhaps, the best moved prayer, and the best ex- 
 pressed in the world. 
 
 La. You will persuade me, William, that I both 
 have prayed already, and shall again, whether I will 
 or no, and whether I know anything of it or no, and 
 that I want no teaching. 
 
 Will. Pray, sir, does a child want to be taught to 
 cry? 
 
 La. Will that simile hold, William ? 
 
 Will. Indeed it will, sir : read the Scripture ; if 
 God's word reaches your heart, you will not need to 
 be taught to pray. 
 
 La. I told you William, you hardly knew who 
 you were talking to : you talk of my reading the 
 Scripture; why, I'll tell thee, William, I ha'n't a 
 Bible in the world, and never had one in my life : 
 there's the manor-house yonder ; I question whether 
 God was ever prayed to in it, or his name ever 
 mentioned there, except profanely, or perhaps to 
 swear by it, since 'twas built : why you know as 
 well as I, what a family it was that lived in it when 
 my father purchased it ; they were as much stran- 
 gers to religion, William, as thou art to Greek and 
 Hebrew ; and ours were but little better, that came 
 after them. 
 
 Will. I fear indeed, and't please your worship, it 
 was so : poor gentlemen ! they lived badly indeed, 
 very badly. Alas ! gentlemen must not be told of it 
 by us poor men ; but they were a sad wicked family, 
 I remember it well. 
 
 La. But, William, thou canst lend me a Bible, 
 can'st thou not ? and I'll read it all over while I stay 
 in the country. 
 
 Will. Yes, and't please your worship, I'll lend you 
 a Bible : I'll bring it in the morning. 
 
 La. Do, William, and come and stay with me to- 
 morrow ; I'll make thee amends for thy day's work, 
 
 I
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 73 
 
 and there's something for thy good advice, and 
 coming so far with me. 
 
 {He gives him some money^ and sends him back 
 again.) 
 
 Will. Thank your worship. 
 
 They were now come to the manor-house, and he 
 was loath to detain him, because it was late, and 
 because he was so affected with the discourse 
 they had had that he wanted very much to be 
 alone. 
 
 As soon as he came into his own house, he 
 locked himself into a parlour, and began to consider 
 with great seriousness all these things, and es- 
 pecially what the poor man had said to him about 
 praying to God ; and as his thoughts were intent 
 upon the meaning of prayer, the nature of it, and 
 the advantages of it, at every turn of these thoughts 
 he found a secret kind of hint like a voice in him, 
 not voice to him, O that I could pray ! O, if 1 could 
 but pray as the poor man does ! How happy should 
 I be, if I could but pray to God ! and the like. He 
 was not aware of these movements ; they seemed to 
 be wrought in his affections perfectly involuntary 
 and sudden ; and they passed over without being 
 noticed and observed, even by himself, till after a 
 good while they returned stronger and more frequent 
 upon him ; so that he not only perceived it, but 
 remembered how often his heart had thrown out 
 those expressions: when on a sudden the poor man's 
 words came into his minci with such a force, as if 
 the man himself had been there. Why this was pray- 
 ing ; certainly I have been praying all this while, 
 and knew it not. 
 
 Upon this reflection, it was impossible for him to 
 express, as he said afterwards, what a strange rap- 
 ture of joy possessed his mind, and how his heart
 
 74 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 was turned within him ; then he fell into the same 
 sacred ejaculations of another kind, viz., of admira- 
 tion, praises, thanksgiving, and mere astonishment ; 
 but still without speaking otherwise than a kind of 
 mental voice, sounding or injecting words into his 
 mind, such as these. Lord ! shall I be brought to 
 pray to God ! I that have never been told so much 
 as how to mention his name ! I that have never 
 known anything of God, or myself! or have been 
 taught anything of my duty to him ! shall I be 
 taught to pray ! and taught by who ! by this poor 
 despicable creature, that, at another time, I would 
 not have spoke to if he had made me twenty bows 
 and scrapes ! His tongue then was let loose ; and 
 he cried out. Blessed be God that ever I came near 
 that poor man. 
 
 He continued all that evening filled with com- 
 forting reflections, and with a kind of inward peace 
 and satisfaction ; which as he had never known be- 
 fore, so he knew not how to describe or relate it, or 
 indeed how to manage it ; in the morning he found 
 the same meditation and the same lightness upon 
 his spirits returned, and he remembered what the 
 poor man had prayed for, for him, viz., that he 
 might be comforted with the hopes of the presence 
 and blessing of God, to which his heart had so 
 readily said. Amen: and now he longed for the poor 
 man's coming with the Bible. 
 
 The poor man was likewise mightily affected with 
 his case, considering him a young gentleman of 
 such a family and fortune ; and who was so far 
 above him, as that, though he was his landlord, he 
 durst never offer to speak to him in his life, but 
 with the greatest submission and distance ; how 
 he should come to call him out, and to talk to him, 
 of such things especially, and in so serious a man- 
 ner.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 75 
 
 He then reflected with a serious joy, that this 
 young gentleman should be thus touched with a 
 solid sense of religion and good things, for it was 
 easy to see that it was not a slight or an insincere 
 work upon his mind ; it rejoiced his heart, that the 
 heir of the estate should be thus likely to prove a 
 good man ; and it presently occurred to his thoughts 
 how great a blessing such a gentleman might be to 
 the country, to the poor, and to the uninstructed 
 people round him ; as well by reforming their man- 
 ners, and restraining their vices, as perhaps by 
 bringing religion to be accepted and received among 
 them by his example. 
 
 These were some of the thoughts he came along 
 with, and he prayed to God, as he walked, very 
 earnestly, that he might be made an instru- 
 ment to bring the soul of this gentleman to 
 the knowledge of God, and to bow at the footstool 
 of his Redeemer as a true penitent. 
 
 His prayers were not in vain : prayer put up 
 from such a principle, and with such a spirit, seldom 
 is made in vain. 
 
 He came to the gentleman while he was in bed ; 
 for he had given orders to his servants to bring him 
 up to his chamber ; there he delivered him the 
 Bible, and told him he hoped he would find in it 
 both encouragement and direction in the great work 
 which he was going about, and that God would 
 bless' him, and would supply by his grace all the 
 wants of early instruction, which he had so much 
 complained of. 
 
 He received the poor man with a glad heart, 
 made him sit down by him, and told him God had 
 made him the instrument of so much good to him, 
 that he could not part with him any more while he 
 stayed in the country. 
 
 William, says he, God has made you a father to
 
 76 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 me, and I'll be a father to you and your family; you 
 shall go no more home to that poor cottage, you 
 shall have something else to be thankful to God for 
 than bread and water. 
 
 PFill. And't please your worship, I have much 
 more to be thankful for than that already ; but if 
 God has been pleased to assist me to do you good 
 in this great business of bringing such a soul as 
 yours to the knowledge of himself, I shall have 
 cause to praise him beyond all that ever I had 
 before. 
 
 La. Well, William, I have sent for your wife and 
 children ; they shall be my care now, not yours ; 
 I'll provide a house for you. 
 
 (He gave him a house and a little farm rent free 
 to live on^ and made him his bailiff, and receiver 
 of the rents of the manor?) 
 
 Will. Your worship will be a father to me and 
 my family, indeed, then ; I can never deserve so 
 much at your hands ; and't please you, I am very 
 willing to work still for my bread, I thank your 
 worship. 
 
 La. No, William, you shall never work any more 
 for your bread ; you have been thankful for a little, 
 William ; I heard you last night, when you were at 
 prayer in your family, and giving thanks to God 
 for the plenty you enjoyed. Poor William ! you do 
 not know how it affected me, that never gave God 
 thanks in my life ; now you shall be thankful for 
 better things. 
 
 Will. I shall be greatly bound to be thankful to 
 your worship too, and't please you. 
 
 La. No, William, do not thank me, thank God 
 still. 
 
 Will. An' your worship mend my condition, I 
 fear my thankfulness to God should abate. When 
 I lived so near misery and distress, it made me
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 77 
 
 more sensible of God's goodness, in keeping me 
 out of it, than I may, I doubt, when I am full. 
 
 La. I do not think you will ever be unthankful, 
 William, that could be so full of a sense of God's 
 mercy, even in the extremest poverty. But come, 
 William, I shall leave that ; I have ordered my 
 steward both to provide for and employ you, and 
 I shall say no more of that now ; but my business 
 now is of another nature. And first, I must tell 
 you how I have been employed since I left you 
 last night. 
 
 {Here he gave the poor man an account of him- 
 self and of his reflections upon what he had said to 
 him, and how insensibly he had received secret com- 
 fort, as above ; and he found tears run down the 
 poor maribs cheeks, all the while he was talkivig to 
 him for joy.^ 
 
 Will. O sir ! give God the praise, this is all his 
 own work ; and J hope your comfort shall increase 
 and continue. Did I not tell you, sir, God would 
 teach you to pray ! 
 
 La. But now, William, what shall I do with this 
 book? 
 
 Will. Read it, sir, and't please you, and you will 
 pray over it, whether you will or no. 
 
 La. But I am still ignorant ; I have no minister 
 near me to explain it to me. 
 
 Will. The Spirit of God will expound his own 
 word to you. 
 
 La. Well, William, you shall be my minister. 
 Come, sit down by me and read in it. 
 
 Will. Alas! I am a sorry creature to be a 
 teacher, sir ; but, and't please you, I have turn'd 
 down some places, which I thought of, to show 
 your worship for your first reading. 
 
 La. That's what I wanted, William. 
 
 Will. And't please you, here's a text which tells
 
 78 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 you what is the whole design of a written gospel; 
 for what end the life of our blessed Redeemer was 
 laid down, and his works and doctrine were pub- 
 lished to the world ; and this seems to be the first 
 thing we should know of the Scriptures, for, in- 
 deed, it is the sum and substance of them. 
 
 La. Let me see it, William. 
 
 Will. Here it is, sir. These tJmigs are written^ 
 that ye might believe that Jesus is the Christ, the 
 Son of God, and that believing ye might have life 
 through his name, John xx. 31. 
 
 La. That is very comprehensive indeed, Wil- 
 liam! 
 
 Will. And here is another passage I folded down, 
 lest you should ask how you should do to believe ; 
 it is in Mark ix. 24 ; it is the story of a man who 
 brings his child to our Lord to be healed; when 
 possessed of an evil spirit. Our Lord asks him, if 
 he could believe : If thou ca^ist believe, all things 
 are possible to him that believeth : and v. 24, the 
 father cried out with tears. Lord, I believe, help 
 thou my unbelief. 
 
 La. What do you look at me for, William. 
 
 ( William looks full in his face while he repeated 
 the words.) 
 
 Will. O sir ! I saw your very heart ; I know you 
 prayed ; I know you said Amen in your very soul 
 to that word. Glory be to the grace of God, and to 
 the word of God for you ; the Scripture, read with 
 such a heart as yours now is, will soon teach you 
 all that you want to know, and all that you want 
 to do. 
 
 The poor gentleman was overcome with his 
 words, and could not speak for a good while ; tears 
 came out of his eyes, and at last he burst out thus : 
 Lord ! what a creature have I been, that have lived 
 without the teachings of the Scriptures all my days !
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 79 
 
 Thus far this happy poor man was made an in- 
 strument to the restoring this gentleman, and 
 bringing him to the knowledge of God, and to a 
 sense of religion ; and, in a word, to be a most 
 sincere Christian. We shall hear further of him 
 after the next dialogue. 
 
 The end of the second dialogue. 
 
 DIALOGUE III. 
 
 We must now go back to the family which we 
 began with. The father of the young ladies was 
 gone into the country to visit his sister, who was 
 newly become a widow ; little thinking, whatever 
 his eldest daughter had said to him, that his 
 youngest daughter would make such short work 
 with her lover in his absence, and that she would 
 quite put an end to his courtship all at one blow, as 
 she had done, before he came home again. 
 
 He spent some little time at his sister's, to com- 
 fort her, and assist her in her affairs after the loss 
 of her husband ; and, particularly, because her 
 eldest son being of age, and just upon marrying, 
 she intended to remove ; the house which was the 
 seat of the family being to be fitted up for her new 
 daughter-in-law. Upon these circumstances he be- 
 gan the following discourse with his sister. 
 
 Bro. Well, pray sister, what kind of a lady has 
 my nephew got ? Is he well married ? 
 
 Sist. Truly, brother, I can hardly tell how to 
 answer you that question ; I believe everybody will 
 be better pleased than I. 
 
 Bro, Why, sister, what is the cause, pray, that 
 you are so difficult ?
 
 80 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Sist. O brother! the main difficulty that has 
 made me all my days the most miserable of all 
 women. 
 
 Bro. What ! religion, I warrant you ; you would 
 have him married a nun ! 
 
 Sist. Nay, I don't know why I should desire a 
 religious woman to come into the family. 
 
 Bro. I never saw the like of you, sister, you are 
 always a complaining; you have had one of the 
 best-humoured, goodest-conditioned, merriest fel- 
 lows in the world for this five-and- twenty years, 
 and yet you call yourself a miserable woman. What 
 could you ask in a husband, that you had not in 
 sir James ? 
 
 Sisf. Dear brother, is this a time for me to tell 
 you what I wanted in sir James, when he is in his 
 grave? I have wanted nothing in him, that a 
 woman could desire in a husband ; he was rich in 
 his estate, a lovely, complete, handsome gentleman 
 in his person, and held it to the last ; he was the 
 best-humoured man that ever woman had, and kind, 
 as a husband, to the last degree : I never saw him in 
 a passion in my life ; he was a man of good sense 
 and good learning; a man of honour, good breeding, 
 and good manners ; none went beyond him ; all the 
 country knows it, and loved him for it. 
 
 Bro. Very well; and yet my sister a miserable 
 woman ! would not any man laugh at you ? I think, 
 sister, if ever you were a miserable woman, it is now; 
 because you have lost him. 
 
 Sist. Well, that's true too ; I am so now, many 
 ways, and some perhaps that you do not think of, 
 brother. 
 
 Bro. I know what you mean again; I warrant 
 you ha' been whining over him, to think what is be- 
 come of him now : prythee what's that to you or I ? 
 what can you by your concern for him do in that
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 81 
 
 case, one way or other ; can't you leave him to God's 
 mercy now he's gone ? 
 
 Sist. Dear brother, it is in vain to answer you ; I 
 must leave him to God's mercy, and so we must 
 leave ourselves : but do you think 'tis not an afflict- 
 ing, dreadful thing to me, that know how he lived, 
 and how he died, to reflect upon his condition, if I 
 had any love for him ? 
 
 Bro. Why, how did he live? he lived like a 
 gentleman, as he was. 
 
 Sist. That's true ; and that, as times go, brother, 
 is to live like a heathen ; you know well enough, 
 what a life I have had with him on that only ac- 
 count ; you know, he was so far from having any 
 sense of religion, or of his Maker, on his mind, that 
 he made a jest and a mock of it all his days, even to 
 the last. 
 
 Bro. I know he did not trouble himself much 
 about it. 
 
 Sist. Nay, he not only did not himself, but he did 
 not really love to have anybody about him religious; 
 I have known many gentlemen that have had no 
 religion themselves, yet value it in others, and value 
 and reverence good men ; but he thought all people 
 hypocrites that talked of anything religious ; and 
 could not abide to see any appearance of it in the 
 house ; it was the only thing we had any difference 
 about all our days. 
 
 Bro. And I think you were a great fool to have 
 any difference with him about that : could not you 
 ha' kept your religion to yourself, and have let him 
 alone to be as merry and as frolicsome as he would 
 without it. 
 
 Sist. Nay, I was obliged to do that, you may be 
 sure ; you know it well enough. 
 
 Bro. Yes, yes, I know he served you many a merry 
 prank about your religious doings, such as putting 
 
 R. C. Q
 
 82 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 every now and then a ballad in your Prayer-book or 
 Psalm-book ; and I think he put the story of Tom 
 Thumb once in one of Dr. Tillotson's sermons. 
 
 Sist. No ; 'twas two leaves out of Don Quixote. 
 He did a great many such things as those to me. 
 
 Bro. But they were all frolics, there was nothing 
 of passion or ill-nature in them : did not he write 
 something in the children's spelling-book once, and 
 make them get it without book, instead of the lesson 
 you had set them ? 
 
 Sist. Yes, yes, he played me a thousand tricks that 
 way. 
 
 Bro. I think once he pasted a receipt to make a 
 tanzy or a cake, just next to one of the questions of 
 the catechisms, where your daughter's lesson was. 
 
 Sist. Ay, ay ; and every now and then he would 
 paste a single printed word, that he cut out of some 
 other book, just over another word in the books, so 
 cunningly, that they could not perceive it, and make 
 them read nonsense. 
 
 Bro. Why what harm was there in all that ? 
 
 Sist. Why, it showed his general contempt of 
 good things, and making a mock of them ; otherwise 
 the thing was not of so much value. 
 
 Bro. Well, and wherein was you miserable, pray, 
 in all this ? I don't understand you in that at all. 
 
 Sist. Why in this, that he was not at all a religi- 
 ous man. 
 
 Bro. But what was that to you, still ? 
 
 Sist. Why, first, brother, there was all family re- 
 ligion lost at one blow ; there could not be so much 
 as the appearance of worshipping or acknowledging 
 the God that made us ; nay, we scarce asked him 
 leave to eat our meat, but in secret, as if we were 
 ashamed of it : sir James never so much as said 
 grace or gave thanks at table in his life, that I 
 remember.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 83 
 
 Bro. And they that do, make it nothing but a 
 ceremony, and do it for fashion sake ; not that they 
 think it signifies anything. 
 
 Sist. Well, let them do it for fashion sake then if 
 they will, but let them do it ; 'tis the most rational 
 thing in the world, while we own that God gives us 
 our meat, that we should ask him leave to eat it, 
 and thank him for it when we have done : but alas ! 
 this is but a small part of the ill consequences of an 
 irreligious family. 
 
 Bro. Well, what more is there? for this is no- 
 thing but what is in thousands of families, who pre- 
 tend to religion on all sides. 
 
 Sist. Why, all relative religion was lost too. 
 
 Bro. Relative religion, sister! what do you mean 
 by that ? 
 
 Sist. Why, first, I mean by it, that religion which 
 ought to be between a man and his wife ; such as 
 comforting, encouraging, and directing one another, 
 helping one another on in the way to heaven, assist- 
 ing one another in Christian duties, praying with 
 and for one another, and much more which I could 
 name ; and which, without doubt, passes to their 
 mutual comfort and delight between a man and his 
 wife, where they are mutually agreed in worshipping 
 and serving God, and walking on in the happy 
 course of a religious life : all this has been lost, and 
 it has been a sad loss to me, brother ; we have all 
 need of helps, and it is not every one that considers, 
 or indeed that knows, what help, what comfort, what 
 support, a religious husband and wife are or may be 
 to one another ; this, I say, has been a sad loss to me, 
 I assure you. 
 
 Bro. These are nice things ; but, methinks, if 
 you could not have these helps from your husband, 
 you might find them in other things, such as books, 
 
 q2
 
 84 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 ministers, &c. ; it need not be called such a loss 
 neither. 
 
 Sist 'Tis such a loss, brother, that if I were to 
 live my days over again, I would not marry a man 
 that made no profession of religion ; no ! though he 
 had ten thousand pounds a year, and I had but a 
 hundred pounds to my portion; nay, I think I would 
 work for my bread, rather. 
 
 Bro. You lay a mighty stress upon these things. 
 
 SisL Everybody, brother, that has any sense of 
 the blessing of a religious family, must do so. Pray 
 if the honouring and serving God be our wisdom, 
 our duty, our felicity in this world, and our way to 
 the next, what comfort, what happiness can there be, 
 where these are wanting in the head of the family ? 
 
 Bro. It is better, to be sure, where they may be 
 had ; but to lay all the happiness of life upon it, as 
 if a man or a woman could not be religious by them- 
 selves, without they were so both together, I do not 
 see that ; I think you carry it too far. 
 
 Sist. I'll convince you that I do not carry it too 
 far at all ; I do not say a man or a woman may not 
 be religious by themselves, though the husband or 
 wife be not so ; but I say, all the help and comfort 
 of relative religion is lost ; the benefit and value of 
 which none knows, but they that enjoy it, or feel 
 the want of it ; but there is another loss, which I 
 have not named, and which my heart bleeds in the 
 sense of every day. 
 
 Bro. What's that, I wonder ? 
 
 Sist. Why, children, brother ! children ! You see 
 I have five children : what dreadful work has this 
 want of family religion made among my poor 
 children ! 
 
 Bro. Why, sir James did not hinder you in- 
 structing your children !
 
 RELIGIOUS COrRTSHIP. 85 
 
 Sist. Did he not ? 'tis true he did not, when they 
 were little ; but has he not by example and want of 
 restraint encouraged all manner of levity, vanity, 
 folly, nay, and even vice itself in them ? Do you 
 think children, thus let loose to humour their young 
 inclinations, and to the full swing of their pleasures, 
 would not soon snatch themselves out of the arms 
 of their mother, and deliver themselves from the 
 importunities of one that had no other authority 
 with them than that of affection ? 
 
 Bro. Why, truly, there is something in that ; but 
 I do not see that your children are much the worse ; 
 there's your eldest son, sir James that is now ; he is 
 a pretty young gentleman ; I hear a very good cha- 
 racter of him. 
 
 Sist. Why, truly, brother, as times go now with 
 gentlemen, we may be thankful neither he nor his 
 brother are debauched or vicious ; and I am thank- 
 ful for it ; they have good characters for modest 
 pretty gentlemen, as you say ; but still, brother, the 
 main thing is wanting ; I cannot be partial to them, 
 though they are my own ; there is not the least 
 sense or notion of religion in them ; they cannot 
 say they have no knowledge of it ; I took care to 
 deprive them of that excuse, as early as they knew 
 anything : but it goes no further ; my eldest son 
 will tell me sometimes, he has as much religion as a 
 gentleman of a thousand a year should have ; and 
 his brother tells me, if I would have had him have 
 any religion, I should have kept our parish living 
 for him, and bred him a parson. 
 
 Bro. They are very merry with you then, I find, 
 upon that subject. 
 
 Sist It is a dreadful jest to me, brother ; I am 
 far from taking it merrily ; you know, I was other- 
 wise brought up ; our father and mother were an- 
 other sort of people, they united their very souls in
 
 86 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 the work of God ; they joined in every good thing 
 with the utmost affection ; they loved the souls as 
 well as the bodies of us their children ; the family 
 was a house of cheerful devotion : God was served 
 night and day ; and, in a word, as they lived, so 
 they died ; they dropped comfortably off, and went, 
 as it were, hand in hand to heaven. 
 
 Bro. And yet, sister, you see, we that were their 
 children were not all alike ; there's our brother 
 Jack, and our sisters, Betty and Sarah, what can be 
 said about them ? Pray what religion are they of? 
 
 Sist. I'll tell you what can be said, and what 
 will stick close to them one time or other, viz., if 
 they are lost, it is not for want of good instruction, 
 or good example ; they cannot blame father or 
 mother ; it has been all their own : parents may 
 beg grace for their children, but they cannot give it 
 them ; they may teach their children good things, 
 but they cannot make them learn ; that is the work 
 of God, and parents must submit it to him : but 
 when parents do nothing ; nay, rather by example 
 and encouragement, lead their children into wicked- 
 ness ; what a dreadful thing is that ! 
 
 Bro. Well, but our two sisters were not led into 
 wickedness : and yet, as I said, they value religion 
 as little as anybody. 
 
 Sist. Ay, brother, I can tell you how my sisters 
 were both ruined ; for they were not so educated. 
 
 Bi'o. What do you mean by ruined? they are 
 not ruined, I hope. 
 
 Sist. I mean as to their principles, brother, which 
 I think is the worst sort of ruin ; they were ruined 
 by marrying profligate, irreligious husbands. 
 
 Bro. I don't know what you mean by profligate ; 
 I think they are both very well married. 
 
 Sist. Yes, as you call married, and that I call 
 being undone.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 87 
 
 Bro. And pray what has ruined Jack ? for he's 
 as graceless a wretch almost as your sir James was. 
 Sist. Truly brother, just the other extreme : he 
 has a wild, giddy, playhouse-bred wife ; full of wit, 
 and void of grace; that never had any religion, nor 
 knew what the meaning of it was ; this has ruined 
 him. My brother was a sober, well-taught, well- 
 inclined young man, as could be desired ; but 
 getting such a tempter at his elbow, instead of a 
 wife to help him on to heaven, she has led him 
 hood-winked to the gates of hell, and goes cheer- 
 fully along with him ; a sad instance, brother, of 
 the want of family religion. 
 
 Bro. Well, but what's all this to what we were 
 upon, of parents leading their children into wicked- 
 ness ? he was not led so by his parents. 
 Sist. But you see his children are. 
 Bro. I cannot say that ; few parents, though 
 they are bad themselves, will prompt their children 
 to be so too : that's what I have seldom seen. 
 
 Sist. Well, that has been the case of my family ; 
 and that it is that has broke my heart, and gives 
 me cause to say I have been the most miserable 
 woman alive. 
 
 Bro. But you have this comfort still, that you 
 have not been the occasion of it. 
 
 Sist. That's true ; but even that does not lessen 
 the grief of seeing my children lost and ruined be- 
 fore my face, and their own father be the instru- 
 ment to it. 
 
 Bro. They cannot be said to be ruined ; they are 
 very fine gentlemen, I assure you. 
 
 Sist. They are ruined, as to the best qualification 
 of a gentleman. 
 
 Bro. I warrant you they do not think so, sister : 
 religion makes us good Christians, that is confessed ; 
 but I do not see it makes a gentleman. What is
 
 88 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 more frequent than to see religion make men cyni- 
 cal and sour in their tempers, morose and surly in 
 their conversation ? They think themselves above 
 the practice of good manners, or good humour. 
 
 Sist. This is all by the mistake of the thing ; 'tis 
 want of religion that makes men thus. It is in 
 good breeding as it is in philosophy ; a little phi- 
 losophy, a little learning, makes a man an atheist ; a 
 great deal brings him back, and makes him a 
 Christian : so a little religion makes a man a churl, 
 but a great deal teaches him to know himself, and 
 be a gentleman. When good principles join with 
 good manners, how should they but illustrate the 
 education, and set off the breeding of a man of 
 quality ? As it is a mistake to say that jewels 
 should be worn by none but homely women, it is 
 just the contrary ; so religion adorns education, as 
 jewels give real beauty a double lustre. 
 
 Bi'o. Your notions are delicate ! you are very 
 nice, it seems, in these things, sister ; though I 
 must confess I am of your mind, when I consider it 
 well. 
 
 Sist. Let the Scripture be judge whether the 
 rules of life dictated by the apostles to the Christian 
 churches were not such as not only agree well with 
 that of a gentleman, but indeed with that without 
 which no man can be a gentleman : if you look 
 almost through all the epistles in the New Testa- 
 ment, you will find it so : I'll name you a few. 
 
 Phil. i. 9, 10. T/ictt your love may abound in 
 knowledge and all judgment. — There's wisdom and 
 learning. That ye may approve things that are 
 excellent. — There's solid judgment. That you may 
 he sincere., and ivithout offence. — There's the 
 honesty and open-heartedness of a true gentle- 
 man. 
 
 1 Pet. Love as brethren^ be pitiful, be courteous.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 89 
 
 — There's the charity, the beneficence, and the 
 good breeding of a gentleman. 
 
 Col. iii. 12. Put on boicels of mercy, kindness, 
 humbleness of mind, meekness, Sfc. — Who can be a 
 gentleman without these ? 
 ^^-CdI* iv. 8. WJiatsoever things are honest, just, 
 pure, lovely, and of good report, think of these 
 things. — What think you now ? Can the practice 
 of these things dishonour a gentleman ? or do they 
 honour and illustrate, and indeed make a gentle- 
 man ? 
 
 Phil. ii. 3. In lowliness of mind let each esteem 
 others better than themselves. — What becomes a 
 gentleman more than such humility ? 
 
 I could name you many other : will any man 
 that reads these rules say they are not suitable to a 
 gentleman ? No, brother, it shall ever be a rule 
 to me, that the only complete man upon earth is a 
 religious gentleman. 
 
 Bro. Why, you are wrapped up in these notions, 
 sister ; 1 fancy you have been documenting my 
 daughter ; I am afraid on't, I assure you ; she has 
 got just the same things in her noddle, and she has 
 carried her scruples to such a length, that she had 
 like to have refused the best match that ever will 
 be offered to her as long as she lives ; but I believe 
 I rattled her out of it when I came away. 
 
 Sist. I am, perhaps, the fuller of it, because it has 
 been the ruin of my family, and of my children ; 
 and, I think, if ever poor woman was unhappy with 
 a gentleman that had not one bad quality in him, 
 it was I ; sir James, as I told you, was such a man 
 for everything else, as there are few such in the 
 world ; but he hated religion, and that has ruined 
 us all. 
 
 Bro. You would make any one laugh to hear you 
 talk of being ruined ; why, are you not left happy.
 
 90 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 easy, and pleasant ? is not your eldest son a baronet, 
 and has 1400/. a year? is not your second son very 
 well provided for ? have not your daughters 5000?. 
 apiece fortune left them ? and are not you left so 
 rich, you know not what to do with it all ? 
 
 Sisf. I do not speak of ruin as you understand it, 
 brother ; I think a family without religion is a 
 family ruined, and that in the worst sense that ruin 
 can be understood in ; if I were to marry again, I 
 would not marry the best duke in the nation, that 
 would not endeavour to carry me to heaven, and to 
 go there himself: the command of the Scripture is 
 plain in it, Be not unequally yoked^ 2 Cor. vi. 14 ; 
 how shall a husband that professes no religion dwell 
 with a wife according to knowledge ? 1 Pet. iii. 7 ; 
 and what is the reason the apostle gives for this 
 Christian rule in marrying, but this, That your 
 prayers he not hindered ? 
 
 Bro. Why, sir James did not hinder your prayers, 
 sister. 
 
 Sist. Did he not ? sir James is in his grave, and 
 'tis not my part to say what he did ; but 'tis the 
 mutual prayers of husband and wife together that's 
 meant in that Scripture : do you think sir James 
 prayed with his wife ? 
 
 Bro. No, I believe he did not, indeed, nor with 
 anybody else. 
 
 Sist. And do you think that's the life of a Chris- 
 tian, or the manner of a Christian family, brother ? 
 You and I were not bred up so, and yet our father was 
 a gentleman, and wanted neither family nor fortune 
 equal to any of them. Sir James is in his grave, 
 and I have no more to say of that ; but if I were as 
 young as I was when I married him, and were to 
 choose again, I would not marry the best nobleman 
 in the nation, if he was not a religious man ; all en- 
 joyments in the world are nothing without it, unless
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 9l 
 
 I resolve to cast off all religion too ; and where 
 would that end ! 
 
 JSro. This is just my daughter again. 
 
 Sist. Besides, brother, consider another thing: 
 how many young women, and young men too, who 
 have been religiously bred, has this way of marrying 
 been a snare to ? that when they come to husbands 
 with no religion, or to giddy, loose, profane wives, 
 they drop all their own principles, and become 
 empty of all religion too, at last : you know how it 
 has been with our brothers and sisters, as I hinted 
 to you before. 
 
 Bro. There's no arguing with you, sister, who 
 have had so much experience of it : but I tell my 
 daughter that perhaps she may convert her hus- 
 band. 
 
 Sist. I don't know my niece's case, and so I can 
 say little to it ; but if this be it, that she refuses 
 a man for his being of no religion, she is in the 
 right ; she is a good religious child herself; my 
 sister educated all your children very well ; and if 
 she marries a gentleman, as the times go now, that 
 thinks religion below him, and unbecoming, as most 
 of them do, she is undone. 
 
 Bro. So she says, and has just your arguments ; 
 that made me say you had been documenting her. 
 
 Sist. No, indeed, brother, not I ; but I'll tell you 
 what I have been ; I have been a memento to the 
 family, and do not doubt but my sister might 
 show them the danger of it by their aunt's example: 
 I pray God they take warning ; I know she was not 
 wanting to them in her instruction, and in caution- 
 ing them against everything that was hurtful ; and 
 if she forgot this, of cautioning them never to marry 
 a man of no religion, then she was not that wise 
 woman I took her for. 
 
 Bro. I know not who has cautioned her, nor who
 
 92 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 has instructed her ; but if I had not took it up very 
 warmly, she had ruined herself with her nicety : I'll 
 tell you how it is. 
 
 {Here he tells her the whole story of his daughter 
 and the gentleman, to the time of his coming from 
 home, he not hnoioing what had happened since.) 
 
 Sist. Well, brother, you will allow me to be free 
 with you : I must needs say I think you are in the 
 wrong. 
 
 Bro. Yes, yes ; I expected that from you. 
 
 Sist. I speak my experience, brother ; I would 
 not force a child's inclination in such a case for the 
 world. 
 
 Bro. What do you mean by inclination? she 
 forces her own inclination ; for her sister says she 
 loves the gentleman, and has owned it ; and yet 
 upon this simple nicety she pretended to cross her- 
 self, affront the gentleman, and disoblige her father. 
 
 Sist. And will not all that convince you, then, 
 that she acts by strength of judgment, and upon 
 principles of conscience ? If it be as you say, it is 
 the noblest resolution that ever I heard of, since 
 the story of St. Catherine. 
 
 Bro. Don't tell me of your noble resolutions, and 
 your fine principles ; it is a first principle, an ori- 
 ginal command of God, that children should obey 
 their parents. 
 
 Sist. Ay, brother, where the parent commands 
 nothing that clashes with the laws of God ; but 
 then, brother, our authority ceases. 
 
 Bro. But I am sure this match is for her advan- 
 tage, and I'll make her have him. 
 
 Sist. That's a severe resolution, and, if it be 
 against her conscience, you may fail in all you re- 
 solve upon ; besides 'tis evident you ought not to 
 resolve so. 
 
 Bro. What ! am not I her father ? has it not
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 93 
 
 been always the right of fathers to give their 
 daughters in marriage ? nay, to bargain for them, 
 even without their knowledge? did not Caleb promise 
 his daughter Achsah in marriage to him that should 
 smite Kirjathseper, not knowing who it should be, 
 or whether the girl should like him or no ? and are 
 there not many such instances in the Scripture ? 
 
 Sist. All this is true, brother : but I dare not 
 think the laws of God or man give parents that 
 authority now. 
 
 Bro. Then you allow my daughters to marry who 
 they please, Avithout putting any weight upon my 
 consent one way or t'other : would you give your 
 daughters that liberty ? 
 
 Sist. No, brother, you wrong me ; but there is a 
 great difference between your negative authority 
 and your positive authority, in the case of a 
 daughter, as there is a great difference between 
 your authority in the marriage of a daughter and 
 the marriage of a son. 
 
 Bro. I know my lady sister is a nice civilian : 
 pray explain yourself 
 
 Sist. I can take all your banters patiently, bro- 
 ther, and I will explain myself, contradict me if you 
 can ; I distinguish them thus : if your daughter de- 
 sires to marry any person you do not like, I grant 
 that you have power, by the law of God, to for- 
 bid her positively ; the Scripture is plain, you have 
 power to dissolve even a vow or promise of hers to 
 marry or not to marry at all. But if your daughter 
 is not willing to marry one you may like, I do not 
 think you have the same right to command, for you 
 might then command her to marry a person she 
 may have an abhorrence of, and an aversion to, 
 which could not be ; the very laws of matrimony 
 forbid it ; she could not repeat the office of matri- 
 mony at her marriage, viz., to love and honour
 
 94 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 him ; and to promise what she knew at the same 
 time would be impossible for her to perform, would 
 be to perjure herself, (for the marriage promise is a 
 solemn oath,) and to deceive her husband in the 
 grossest manner ; neither of which would be lawful 
 for her to do. 
 
 Bro. Well, well, for all your fine harangue, I 
 have made her do it. 
 
 Sist. Are they married then, brother ? 
 
 Bro. No : but they shall as soon as I come 
 home. 
 
 Sist. I wish her well ; she is a child that deserves 
 very well, I am sure ; she is a serious, sensible, 
 religious child, and will be an extraordinary wo- 
 man ; but if you force her to marry, as you say you 
 will, remember my words, brother, you will make 
 her miserable, as I have been. 
 
 Bro. Yes, yes, so she will; just so miserable ; 
 she will have a good husband, and about 2000Z. a 
 year estate ; a very miserable condition truly ! 
 
 Sist. All that's nothing ; nor will it lessen the 
 misery at all to a good woman ; I am sure she had 
 better go to service, or marry a good, sober, reli- 
 gious shoemaker ; and I would do so myself if I had 
 my choice to make again ; therefore, I say it again, 
 dear brother, remember my words ; if you do it, 
 you make her miserable, and will repent it. 
 
 Bro. Nay, nay, I am not so positive neither; I 
 would not ruin my child, you may be sure ; but I 
 shall see when I come home. 
 
 Sist. Pray let me hear how it goes, when you 
 come home. 
 
 Bro. So you shall, I promise you. 
 
 After this discourse he stayed but two or three 
 days with his sister, and then went home. When 
 he came home, to be sure the first question he
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 95 
 
 asked of his eldest daughter was, how Mr. 
 
 did, and if he was in the house. 
 
 Da. In the house ! No, sir, I think not. 
 
 Fa. Why do you think not ? When was he here ? 
 
 Da. Never, sir, since the evening after you went 
 away. 
 
 Fa. Why, she has not served me so, has she? 
 
 Da. Serv'd you, sir! Nay, it is he has served 
 you so ; for he said, the last time he was here, he 
 would wait on her again ; but he has never been 
 here since. 
 
 Fa. Then she must have used him very ill, I am 
 sure ; he had never done so else. Where is she ? 
 Call her down. 
 
 Da. Sir, my sister is gone to my aunt 's at 
 
 Hampstead. 
 
 Fa. Very well : finely managed, I assure you ! 
 Well, I'll manage her, and all of you, if this be the 
 way I am to be used. {He is in a great passion.) 
 
 Da. I believe there is nothing done to use you 
 ill, sir, or to provoke you in the least. 
 
 Fa. What is she gone out of the house then 
 for? 
 
 Da. Sir, you are so angry with her, when you 
 talk with her, that you fright her ; I was afraid, 
 last time you talked to her, you would have thrown 
 her into fits: and so we really all advised her to go 
 home with my aunt last week, when she was in 
 town, and stay there, till we could see what you will 
 please to have her do. 
 
 Fa. Do ! she knows what I expected she should 
 do. 
 
 Da. As to marrying Mr. , sir, that she can 
 
 never do ; and she has talked to him so hand- 
 somely, that, sir, I assure you, he said himself he 
 could not answer her objections ; that she had rea-
 
 9^ RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 sons for what she did, and he could not urge it any 
 further. 
 
 Fa. Why, did not you say he promised to come 
 again ? 
 
 Da. Yes, he did say he would wait on her again, 
 but he is gone into the country I hear. 
 
 Fa. Well, I'll say no more till he comes again then. 
 
 Da, Nay, if he had come again, she had resolved 
 she would not have seen him. 
 
 Fa. Say you so ! Ill be as positive as she ; if she 
 will see him no more, she shall see me no more, 
 I'll let her know so much. 
 
 Da. I am sorry things are so ; but I am sure 
 she will never see him, if she never comes home 
 more. 
 
 Fa. I'll try that : I'll go over to Hampstead in 
 the morning, I'll see what I can do with her. 
 
 Her sister was now in as great a fright as before ; 
 she knew the principle her sister went upon was 
 good, and she was very loath to have her thrust by 
 violence into a state of life she so abhorred ; 
 and this made her take more freedom with her 
 father than she would have done, and took more 
 care of her sister too, lest her father should bring 
 her away and marry her by force ; so she sent a 
 man and a horse away the same night to Hamp- 
 stead to her sister, to give her notice of her father's 
 resolution to come over in the morning, and giving 
 her an account of what had passed, advising her to 
 be gone out of his way somewhere else. 
 
 As the young lady had acquainted her aunt with 
 the whole story, her aunt was so affected with it, 
 and so abundantly justified her conduct in it, that 
 upon this news, she told her she would place her 
 at a friend's house a little way off, and she would
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 97 
 
 undertake to talk to her father when he came ; and 
 if she could not bring him to any reason, she 
 would send her the next day into the country to her 
 
 other aunt, the widow of sir James ; so she 
 
 sent her away in the mean time in her own coach 
 to Hendon, a village beyond Hampstead, with a 
 maid and a footman to attend her, till her father 
 was gone. 
 
 In the morning, as he said he would, her father 
 came to Hampstead, and as soon as he had saluted 
 his sister, he asks for his daughter ; his sister told 
 him she was gone a little way to visit a friend of 
 hers, but desired him to sit down. 
 
 She saw he was disturbed and uneasy: Come, 
 brother, says she, be calm and moderate, and do 
 not treat your child with so much warmth ; let you 
 and I talk of this matter ; my niece has given me 
 a full account of the whole story. 
 
 Fa. Has she so ? But she shall give me another 
 account of it, before she and I have done yet. 
 
 Sist. I find, brother, you consult your passions 
 only in all this matter, and I must tell you they 
 are base counsellors ; I wish you would act in cool 
 blood, and consult your reason a little too. 
 
 Bro. So I think I do, and I won't be instructed 
 by my children. 
 
 8isL No, no, brother, it is evident you act too 
 violently ; if you consulted your reason, I am sure 
 it would tell you that you are all wrong. Did ever 
 a father hurry and terrify his children so with his 
 fury and his passions that they are afraid to see 
 him, and ready to swoon when they hear he is com- 
 ing to them? and then do you consider what a 
 child this is, that you use thus ? 
 
 Bro. I use her ! she uses me I think I and 
 abuses me too. 
 
 ^ist. Be patient, brother, be patient ; passion, I 
 R. c. u
 
 98 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 tell you, is an ill counsellor ; consider the circum- 
 stances of your child, and hear what she has to say. 
 
 Bro. What do you mean by hearing ? I think 
 she ha'n't heard what I have to say, when she flies 
 thus from place to place, as if she was a thief. 
 
 Sist. That's because you do not act like a Chris- 
 tian, brother ; you make yourself a terror to your 
 children ; this dares not see you ; those at home 
 dare not speak to you. Why, what do you mean, 
 brother ? You did not treat them thus when they 
 were little ; do you consider what they are now ? 
 that they are women grown, and ought to be 
 treated as such ; and deserving women too they 
 are, that the world sees ; and you expose yourself 
 most wretchedly to treat them thus. I am very 
 free with you. 
 
 Bro. How do I treat them ? What, to provide 
 a gentleman of 2,000/. a year for the youngest, a 
 handsome, complete young gentleman, as any the 
 town can produce, and every way unexceptionable; 
 nay, she owned herself he was one she could like 
 very well ; and to have her affront him and her 
 father, and to dismiss him of her own head without 
 consulting me, or staying till I came to town ! and 
 this after five weeks keeping him company, and when 
 she knew the writings were drawn for her marriage 
 settlement ; is this a decent way of treating a 
 father ? I think you are free with me, indeed, to 
 take their parts in it. 
 
 Sist. Well, brother, suppose all this to be just as 
 you relate it, yet if the young people could not hit 
 it, do we not always, when we make proposals one 
 to another for our children, make this condition, viz., 
 If the young people can agree ? And do we not put 
 them together to talk with one another, on purpose 
 that they may be acquainted, and see whether they 
 can like one another or no ?
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 99 
 
 Bro. Well, and so did I: has lie not waited 
 upon her ladyship, I tell you, five weeks ? Was not 
 that time enough to know whether she liked him 
 or no? 
 
 Sist. Time enough to like or dislike, I grant it ; 
 and she tells you plainly, she does not like, and 
 cannot marry him : what would you have ? And 
 as to putting him off in your absence, she says she 
 told you her mind positively before you went out of 
 town, and would have given you her reasons for it ; 
 but you treated her with so little temper, that she 
 had no room to speak ; and at last told her you 
 would have none of her reasons, but expected she 
 should have him : how do you ansv/er that pray ? 
 
 Bro. I knew what she had to say well enough ; 
 however, I gave her till my return to consider of it: 
 what had she to do to turn him off without my 
 knowledge, and affront a gentleman of his quality ? 
 it is an insult upon her father, and a scandal to the 
 whole family. 
 
 Sist. That's all answered by what I said before, 
 that she told you positively, before you went out of 
 town, she would never have him, and indeed had 
 resolved then to see him no more ; for what should 
 a young woman keep a man company for, when she 
 resolves not to have him? Whatever you may think, 
 brother, it would not have been very handsome on 
 her side ; besides, I can assure you, your daughters 
 are none of those women that do anything unbe- 
 coming. 
 
 Bro. Why she did keep him company after it, 
 for all that. 
 
 Sist. Never but once, that she might dismiss him 
 civilly, and that was merely a force of your own 
 upon her, because your passion with her obliged 
 her to do that work herself, which you ought to 
 have done for her. 
 
 xs 9
 
 100 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Bro. Well, she's an undutiful, disrespectful 
 creature to me; I ha'n't been an unkind father 
 to her; but I'll let her know herself my own 
 way. 
 
 Sist. You'll consider of that, brother, when your 
 passion is over. 
 
 Bro. Not I ; I am no more in a passion now, 
 than I was before. 
 
 Sist. That may well be indeed; because you 
 were then in such a passion, it seems, as disordered 
 all your family : is passion a proper weapon to ma- 
 nage children with, brother ? 
 
 Bro. It is impossible for any man to be thus 
 treated by his children, and not be in a passion ; 
 ingratitude is a thing no man can bear with pa- 
 tience. 
 
 Sist. But who shall be judge between you, 
 brother ? For it is possible you may be in the 
 wrong as well as your children ; and take this with 
 you for a rule in all such breaches, that generally 
 those that are in the greatest passion, are most in 
 the wrong. 
 
 Bro. No, no ; I am sure I am not in the wrong. 
 
 Sist. That's making yourself judge, brother; I 
 think you should let some judicious, sober, impartial 
 person hear your child, since you won't hear her 
 yourself. 
 
 Bro. What, do you think I'll have arbitrators be- 
 tween me and my children ? 
 
 Sist. I hope you will act the father with them, 
 then, and not the madman, as (I must be plain with 
 you) I think you do now. 
 
 Bro. Yes, yes, I'll act the father with them, 
 while they act the part of children with me, but no 
 longer. 
 
 Sist. If God should deal so by us all, what 
 would become of us ? Think of that, brother,
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 101 
 
 when you make resolutions against your own chil- 
 dren ; and without just cause too. 
 
 Bro. Why you won't pretend this is without 
 cause ? 
 
 Sist. Truly, brother, I do not see any cause you 
 have to be offended with your child ; it is true, you 
 brought a very fine young gentleman to court her, and 
 I know you were pleased with the thoughts of such 
 an alliance in your family ; his estate, his person, his 
 character, were all pleasing; but here's the case, 
 your daughter has been religiously and virtuously 
 educated by my sister. 
 
 Bro. By your sister only, I suppose ; you might 
 have put that in too. 
 
 Sist. Truly, brother, I do not charge you with 
 the crime of being any way concerned in the religious 
 part of their education. 
 
 Bro. Did I obstruct it, or blame her for it? I left 
 them to her; it was none of my business. 
 
 Sist. That's a sad way of discharging your duty 
 to your children, brother, in their education : but 
 that's none of my business ; we will leave that now; 
 they have been soberly and religiously educated, 
 whoever did it : and they are very sober, religious 
 young women, especially this youngest, above them 
 all ; they are an honour to your family, and to the 
 memory of my sister their mother. 
 
 Bro. But none to me, I confess that. 
 
 Sist. They will be so to you too in the end, if 
 you know hov/ to make yourself an honour to them. 
 
 Bro. Well, I'll make them fear me, if they won't 
 honour me. 
 
 Sist. You are hardly in temper enough to talk 
 to : however, let me go on ; I tell you, they have 
 been so bred, and they so well ansv/er their educa- 
 tion, that they are an honour to ycur family ; their 
 mother instilled principles of virtue, piety, and
 
 102 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 modesty in their minds, while they were very 
 young. 
 
 Bro. Well, I know all this. 
 
 Sist. Pray be patient ; among the rest, this was 
 one, that a religious life was the only heaven upon 
 earth ; they were her very words : that honour, 
 estate, religion, and all human pleasures, had no 
 relish without it, and neither pointed to a future fe- 
 licity, or gave any present, at least that was solid 
 and valuable ; and on her death-bed she cautioned 
 them never to marry any man, that did not at least 
 profess to own religion, and acknowledge the God 
 that made him, whatever fortunes or advantages 
 might offer, as to this world. 
 
 Bro. She might have found something else to do 
 when she was just at her end, I think. 
 
 Sist. Brother, let me be free with you ; she had 
 two bad examples to set before them, where the 
 want of a religious husband had made two families 
 very miserable, though they had everything else 
 that the world could give ; and one was your own 
 sister. 
 
 Bro. And the other herself; I understand you, 
 sister. 
 
 Sist. Be that, as the sense of your own conduct 
 directs you to think, brother ; that's none of my 
 business ; she was my sister, and therefore I say no 
 more of that. But these are all digressions : the 
 young women, your daughters, thus instructed, and 
 thus religiously inclined, are grown up ; you bring 
 a gentleman to court one of them, who, with all the 
 advantages his person and circumstances present, 
 yet wants the main thing which she looks for in a 
 husband ; and without which she declares she will 
 not marry, no, not if a peer of the realm courted 
 her : pray what have you to say to such a resolu- 
 tion, that you should oppose it ?
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 103 
 
 Bro. How does she know who is religious and 
 who not ? She may be cheated soonest, where she 
 expects it least. 
 
 Sist. That's true ; and she has the more need to 
 have her father's assistance to judge with, and assist 
 her in her choice. 
 
 Bro. I don't inquire into that part, not I. 
 
 Sist. No, I perceive you don't ; she has therefore 
 the more reason to look to herself. 
 
 Bro. This gentleman may be as religious as any- 
 body, for aught she knows : how can she pretend to 
 know, I say, who is religious ? 
 
 Sist. 'Tis easier to know who is not religious, than 
 who is: but this gentleman has been so kind to her, 
 and so honest, as to put it out of all doubt, it seems: 
 for he has frankly owned to her, that, as to religion, 
 he never troubled his head about it ; that 'tis a road 
 he never travelled ; he makes a jest of it all, as most 
 young gentlemen now-a-days do ; tells her, that his 
 business is to choose a wife first, and then, perhaps, 
 he may choose his religion, and the like. Is this the 
 gentleman you would have your daughter marry, 
 brother ? is this your care for your child ? is it for 
 refusing such a man as this, that you are in a passion 
 with your child ? I blush for you, brother I I entreat 
 you, consider what you are doing. 
 
 Bro. I will never believe one word of all this ; I 
 am sure it can't be true. 
 
 Sist. I am satisfied every word of it is true, and 
 you may inform yourself from your other children, 
 if you think it worth your while. 
 
 Bro. I'll believe none of them. 
 
 Sist. Not while you are in this rage, I believe you 
 will not ; for passion is as deaf as 'tis blind ; but if 
 you will cool your warmth, and let your reason re- 
 turn to its exercise, and to its just dominion in your 
 soul, then you will hear and believe too : for when
 
 104 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 we are calni; and our passions laid, 'tis easy to judge 
 by the very telling a story, whether it be true or no ; 
 but it is not to my argument, whether it be true or 
 not. 
 
 Bro. No ! pray what is your argument then ? 
 
 Sist. Why this, whether you are not in the wrong 
 if it is true. 
 
 Bro. In the wrong ! in what pray ? 
 . Sist Why, to treat your child with such fury and 
 ungoverned passion as you do. 
 
 Bro. W^hy, how must children be treated, when 
 they are insolent and disobedient ? 
 
 Sist. Even then, not with passion and heat, 
 brother : there is no case in the world, that can 
 possibly happen, which ought to make a father act 
 in a passion with his own children. 
 
 Bro. No ! how must he correct them then, when 
 they do evil things ? 
 
 Sist. All with calmness and affection, brother ; 
 not with rage and fury ; that is not correcting them, 
 that is fighting with them ; he must pity when he 
 punishes, exhort when he corrects ; he should have 
 the rod in his hand, and tears in his eyes ; he is to 
 be angry at their offences, hut not with their per- 
 sons : the nature of correction implies all this ; 'tis 
 for the child's good that a parent corrects, not for 
 his own pleasure ; he must be a brute that can take 
 pleasure in whipping a child. 
 
 {He sat silent here a good ivhile, and said not a 
 ivord, his conscience co7ivincing him that she was in 
 the right; at length he puts it off thus.) 
 
 Bro. Well, I am not a correcting my children 
 now; they are past that. 
 
 Sist. Yes, yes, brother, you are correcting now 
 too ; there are more ways of correction than the 
 rod and the cane ; when children are grown up, the 
 father's frowns are a part of correction, his just re-
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 105 
 
 proaches are worse than blows ; and passion should 
 be no more concerned in that part, than in the 
 other. 
 
 Bro. These are fine-spun notions ; but what is 
 all this to the case in hand ? 
 
 Sist. Why yes, 'tis all to the case in hand ; I am 
 sorry there is so close an application to be made of 
 it : for if we are not to be in a passion with our chil- 
 dren even when we have just reason to correct them, 
 and see cause to be displeased with them, sure we 
 must not be in a passion with them when there is 
 no cause for displeasure ; I say, displeasure, for 
 cause of passion with our children there can never 
 be ; all passion is a sin, and to sin because our chil- 
 dren sin, can never be our duty, nor any means to 
 show them theirs. 
 
 Bro. Does not the Scripture say. Be angry a?id 
 sin not ? 
 
 Sist. If you would read that Scripture according 
 to its genuine interpretation, it would help to con- 
 vince you of all I have said : be angry, but be not in 
 a passion ; to be angry may be just, as the occasion 
 for it may make it necessary ; but be not immode- 
 rately angry, for that is to sin, and no cause of anger 
 can make that necessary ; and therefore another 
 text says. Let all bitterness and icrath be pnt aicay 
 from among you, Eph. iv. 1 3. These are Scriptures, 
 brother, for our conduct even with strangers ; but 
 when we come to talk of children, 'tis ten thousand 
 times more binding ; we cannot be in a passion at 
 anybody without sin ; but to be in a passion at our 
 children, that's all distraction, and an abomination, 
 and tends to nothing but mischief. 
 
 Bro. You are a healing preacher, sister; I confess 
 there is some weight in what you say ; but what can 
 I do, when children are thus provoking ? 
 
 Sist. Do ! go home and consider the case maturely,
 
 106 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 and pray to God to direct you to your duty ; if you 
 did that seriously, you would soon see that your 
 child is not to blame, and that you are very much 
 in the wrong to press her in a thing of this nature. 
 
 Bro. Nay, nay, don't say so neither ; you may 
 say I am in the wrong to be so angry, but you can- 
 not say I am not very ill used ; that I am positive in. 
 
 Sist. Let me hear you say so when with temper 
 and calmness you have heard the whole case ; if you 
 will not bear to hear it from your daughter herself, 
 hear it from her sister ; and be composed and im- 
 partial, and then I shall see you will be of another 
 mind. 
 
 Bro. I can't promise you I can have so much 
 patience with them. 
 
 Sist. Well, till you can, you can't say you are 
 doing the duty of a father. 
 
 Here the discourse ended, and he goes home 
 again ; and the young lady, thinking she had some 
 encouragement from this discourse to hope that he 
 would be calmer with her, went home too in the 
 afternoon, and took care to let her father know it, 
 and see her in the house ; however, he took little 
 notice of her for some time. 
 
 The next morning he called his eldest daughter 
 to him, and began another discourse with her upon 
 the affair, thus : 
 
 Come, child, says the father, now passion is a little 
 over, and I am disposed, however ill I am used, to 
 bear it as well as I can ; pray give me a true account 
 of this foolish girl, your sister, and how she has 
 managed herself since I have been gone. 
 
 Da. What, about Mr. , sir? 
 
 Fa. Ay, ay ; was ever any wench so mad, to af- 
 front such a gentleman as he was ! I wish he had 
 pitched upon you, my dear. 
 
 !
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 107 
 
 Da. It is my mercy, sir, he did not; arid I desire 
 to be thankful for it as long as I liye. 
 
 Fa. What do you mean by that, child ? 
 
 Da. Because I have not been forced to disoblige 
 my father, or to marry against my mind, as my 
 sister has been ; two things I know not which are 
 most terrible to me so much as to think of. 
 
 Fa. Why you would not have been such a fool 
 to have run into these scruples too, would you ? I 
 have a better opinion of your sense. 
 
 Da. I desire your good opinion of me may always 
 continue; and therefore, sir, as I am not tried, I 
 hope you will not put a question to me that 'tis not 
 so proper for me to answer. 
 
 Fa. Well, well, be easy, child, I have a religious 
 man in my eye for you, I assure you ; we will have 
 no need of such foolish breaches on your account. 
 
 Da. It is time enough, sir, to talk of that. 
 
 Fa. Well then, as to your sister : you know, when 
 I left her, I charged her to entertain him till my re- 
 turn, and you know what resolutions I made if she 
 did not. 
 
 Da. Dear father, you went away in a passion ; 
 she had declared positively she would not have him, 
 and she could not think of entertaining a gentleman 
 after she had resolved not to have him ; it would 
 not have been handsome : however, I did over-per- 
 suade her to see him that night you went away ; in 
 hopes, truly, that she might have had some oppor- 
 tunity to be better satisfied in her main scruple 
 about religion, and that she might have got it over : 
 but, on the contrary, he made such an open decla- 
 ration of his contempt of all religion, and his per- 
 fect ignorance of anything about it, that I could not 
 but wonder at it ; sure he must think we were a 
 family of atheists, or else he did it to affront her ; 
 for he could never think it could be agreeable to
 
 108 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 any of us : and upon this she made the same open 
 declaration to him, that she could never think of 
 joining herself to a man so perfectly void of princi- 
 ples ; and so they parted, as it were by agreement. 
 
 Fa. Was it so short between them then ? 
 Da. No, sir, there was a great deal more ; they 
 did not part with disgust at all ; I am persuaded he 
 loves her entirely, and I am sure she loves him too ; 
 I wish she did not. 
 
 Fa. And is she not a double fool then, to thwart 
 thus both her fortune and her fancy, and all for she 
 knows not what ? Had he been a fawning hypo- 
 crite, that could have talked of religion whether he 
 had any or no, she would have taken him. 
 
 T>a. She would not have been easily deceived, 
 sir, for she lays the whole stress of her life's welfare 
 upon it ; 'tis a solid principle with her, which she 
 cannot go from, and which she thinks her fancy 
 and fortune, and all things in this world, ought to 
 submit to. 
 
 Fa. Well, but you say it was a long discourse ; I 
 don't doubt but you have heard it all, over and 
 over : pray give me as full an account of it, child, 
 as you can. 
 
 Ba. Yes, sir. 
 
 {Here she relates the whole night's discourse be- 
 tween the gentleman and her sister^ as it is in the 
 foregoing dialogue, except only that about staying 
 for him till he was grown religious.) 
 
 Fa. Well, I think they are both fools ; he for 
 being so open, and she for being so nice ; it will be 
 long enough before she has such another offer, 1 
 dare say. 
 
 Da. I believe that is none of her affliction, sir ; 
 she's only troubled at her disobliging you, which 
 she had no possibility to avoid, without oppressing 
 her conscience, and making herself miserable.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 109 
 
 Fa. I do not see that's any of her concern. 
 
 Da. Yes, indeed, sir, it is ; and I am afraid she 
 will grieve herself to death about it. 
 
 Fa. If that had been any grief to her, she would 
 not have acted as she has done. 
 
 Da, It is a terrible case, sir, to have so many 
 powerful arguments press against conscience ; I 
 wonder she has been able to stand her ground 
 against them, and I am sure it lies very heavy upon 
 her mind. 
 
 Fa. What do you mean by arguments pressing 
 upon her conscience ? 
 
 Da. Why, sir, to name no more, here is a gentle- 
 man, who by his professed choice of her, and extra- 
 ordinary proposals to her, has given undoubted 
 testimony of his loving her very sincerely : in the 
 next place, a splendid fortune, giving her a prospect 
 of enjoying all that this world can offer : thirdly, a 
 very agreeable person, and one that has by his en- 
 gaging conduct, made some way into her affections ; 
 so that 'tis easy to see, she not only has a respect 
 for him, but really loves him ; and lastly, the dis- 
 pleasure of her father, who she never disobeyed be- 
 fore, and to disoblige whom is effectually to ruin 
 herself for this world. Are not these, sir, pressing 
 things ? 
 
 Fa. And why do not they prevail with her then ? 
 And why is she so wilful ? 
 
 Da. Nothing but her conscience, a sense of her 
 duty to God, and her own future peace, has upheld 
 her resolution ; he has professed himself to be a 
 man of no religion, and such a one she dares not 
 marry. 
 
 Fa. I understand nothing of it, nor do I see any 
 need to pretend conscience in the case at all ; there's 
 nothing of weight in it.
 
 110 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Da. I hope you cannot think but my sister 
 would be very glad it had been otherwise. 
 
 Fa. What need she trouble herself about his re- 
 ligion ? 
 
 Da. It is my business, sir, to give you an ac- 
 count of the facts, not to enter into the argument ; 
 'tis enough that one daughter has displeased you 
 already. 
 
 Fa. Well, well ; I see she is come home again : 
 I have nothing to say to her ; I don't look upon her 
 as any relation of mine. 
 
 Da. If you don't abate something, sir, and show 
 yourself a little tender of her, I believe you will 
 soon have but two daughters to provide for ; perhaps 
 not that, for I think it will break all our hearts to see 
 it. 
 
 All that his eldest daughter could say, or that 
 either of his sisters in the country had said, had yet 
 no effect upon him ; but he carried it so reserved to 
 his daughter, that she appeared in the family as if 
 she had not belonged to him, and he continued it so 
 long, that it began to be very probable he would 
 never alter it ; which so grieved the poor young 
 lady, that she fell very sick with it, and it was 
 feared she inclined to a consumption ; and being 
 very ill one day, her sister, who was her fast friend 
 and only comforter, desired she would go out a 
 little, and take the air : so they resolved to go to 
 their aunt's, at Hampstead ; the sister's design 
 being to persuade her to stay two or three days 
 with their aunt ; in which short journey, several 
 strange like adventures befel them, which will 
 gradually introduce themselves in the following 
 discourse, which began between them as they were 
 in the coach going to Hampstead.
 
 KELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 1 J 1 
 
 Dear sister, says the eldest sister, what will be- 
 come of you ? Will you give way to this grief so 
 much as to let it destroy you ? 
 
 Yo. Sist. What can I do, sister? I support it as 
 well as I can, but it sinks my spirits ; 'tis too heavy 
 for me ; I believe it will destroy me, as you say. 
 
 £ld. Sist. But shake it off then, sister. 
 
 Yo. Sist. Shake it off! You talk of it as a thing 
 in my power : no, no, sister, effects rarely cease till 
 their causes are removed. 
 
 £ld. Sist. Nay, you would talk philosophy; I am 
 sure philosophy would cure you. 
 
 Yo. Sist. Ay ; but I am no philosopher, I hope : 
 pray how would that cure me ? 
 
 Eld. Sist. All that I mean by philosophy is rea- 
 son ; though women are not philosophers, they are 
 rational creatures : I think you might reason your- 
 self out of it. 
 
 Yo. Sist. I do talk reason, when I say, grief 
 having seized upon my spirits, and the cause being 
 immoveable, while that remains so, the effect will 
 be so too. 
 
 Uld. Sist. It is not in my power to remove the 
 cause ; but yet, I think if you would hear reason, 
 you might remove the grief, which is the effect. 
 
 Yo. Sist. And you think reasoning would do it ? 
 Pray what kind of reasoning is that ? 
 
 Eld. Sist. Why, to reason but upon the folly, the 
 madness, the injustice, nay, the sin of immoderate 
 grief. 
 
 Yo. Sist. You begin warmly ; pray let's hear the 
 folly of it. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Why several things will convince you 
 of its being the foolishest thing in the world : grief 
 is a senseless, useless passion ; 'tis useless, because 
 'tis perfectly incapable of doing any good, and only 
 capable of doing evil : grief is indeed no passion,
 
 112 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 but a quality, a disease of the mind, which must be 
 cured ; 'tis an evil spirit that must be cast out : be- 
 sides, it is a senseless thing : for 'tis a means to no 
 end ; it aims at nothing, seeks nothing, endeavours 
 nothing, only corrodes the spirits, stagnates the 
 very senses, and stupifies the soul ; and therefore 
 grief was anciently represented as a viper, generated 
 in the liver, and preying upon the vitals of the man : 
 and when it came within a certain space of the 
 heart, it had two ways to go : if it ascended, it 
 quitted the hypochondriac vessels, and so possessing 
 the brain, ended in madness ; if it descended, it 
 possessed the blood, and ended in death. 
 
 Yo. Sist Pray end your reasoning, for I do not 
 understand it ; go back to the point proposed, what 
 must I do? You say, shake it off: I ask, what 
 must I do to shake it off; how can I shake it off? 
 
 Eld. Sist. Why, divert your mind, think no more 
 of him ; turn your thoughts to things that are in 
 being ; this is now a thing over ; you should only 
 esteem it as a history of things done in the ages 
 past. 
 
 Yo. Sisf. You surprise me, sister. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Surprise you, child! in what? 
 
 Yo. Sist. I am both grieved and astonished that 
 you should have such mean thoughts of me as to 
 think my grief is founded upon the parting with 
 
 Mr. ; I protest to you, I am so far from having 
 
 the least concern of that kind upon me, that it is the 
 only comfortable reflection I have in the world, and 
 I give God thanks from the bottom of my soul, as 
 often as I think of it, that I am delivered from him. 
 
 Eld. Sist. I believe you are sensible that it is 
 better as it is ; but I know it is a great struggle be- 
 tween principle and affection. 
 
 Yo. Sist. Not at all, sister, I am over all that ; it 
 did not hold me half an hour ; when my conscience
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 113 
 
 dictated to me my real danger, the future felicity of 
 my life, the commands of God, and the dying in- 
 structions of my dear mother : do you think the 
 little stirrings of an infant affection to the man, was 
 able to struggle with such an array of convictions ? 
 God forbid ! no, no ; he is to me as the most con- 
 temptible fellow on earth. 
 
 Eld. Sist. No, no, sister, you never thought him 
 a contemptible fellow, I am sure ; nor is he so in 
 himself 
 
 Vq. Sist. No, as a gentleman he is not so ; he is 
 a lovely creature, and the only man in the world I 
 could ever say I had any affection for. 
 
 Eld. Sist. I know you loved him ; nay, and do 
 love him still ; your face betrays you, sister : while 
 your tongue named him your heart fluttered and 
 your colour changed ; I could see it plain enough. 
 
 Yo. Sist. How cruel is that now, sister ! you 
 prompt the affection to revive, as if you would recall 
 the temptation, and assist it in a new attack upon 
 me : I allow I loved him, and, as a gentleman so 
 every way agreeable, I do so still : but shall I yoke 
 myself with one of God's enemies ! embrace one that 
 God abhors ! Speak no more of it, I entreat you. 
 
 Eld. Sist. That's carrying it too far : you cannot 
 say who God abhors. 
 
 Vo. Sist. I'll put it the other v/ay, then, to stop 
 your mouth : Shall I yoke myself with a practical 
 atheist! embrace one that rejects God! love him 
 that hates my Saviour ! 
 
 Eld. Sist. Nay, that's too far, too : he told you 
 he did not hate religion. 
 
 Vo. Sist. You cavil, sister ; you don't argue : I'll 
 give it you in Scripture words : Is he not one of 
 those who say to the Almighty, Depart from us, we 
 desire not the knoidedfje of his ivays ? Did he not 
 
 R. c. I
 
 114 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 openly say the same thing ? Is not he not only void 
 of the knowledge of religion, but of any desire to 
 have any knowledge of it ? 
 
 Eld. Sist. Do not take what I said ill, sister : I 
 acknowledge he is indeed such a one; but still you 
 love him, sister. 
 
 Yo. Sist. No, sister, as such I abhor him ; the 
 thoughts of having been but in danger of him make 
 my blood run chill in my veins : Shall I marry a 
 profligate ! a man of no religion ! nay, that has the 
 impudence to own it ! No, sister, 1 rejoice that I 
 am delivered from him, and I never desire to see 
 him more as long as I live. 
 
 Eld. Sist. And are you really got as far above it 
 as you say you are ? 
 
 Yo. Sist. Dear sister, have not you and I often 
 lamented the loss of a religious family, even in our 
 own father ? the want of a religious conversation, 
 the want of a father to teach, instruct, inform, and 
 explain religious things to us ? have we not seen 
 the dreadful life our aunt, my father's sister, lived, 
 for want of a religious husband ? and the heavenly 
 life my aunt here, our mother's sister, lives, that has 
 a pious, sober, religious husband and family ? and 
 can you think I would ever be a wife to such an- 
 other as sir James ? besides, could I bear to be tied 
 to a man that could not pray to God for me, and 
 would not pray to God with me ? God forbid ! the 
 greatest estate and finest man in the world should 
 never incline me to such a thought : I thank God 
 my soul abhors it ; and 'tis the joy of my heart that 
 the snare is broken. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Why what is it then that oppresses 
 your mind thus ? 
 
 Yo. Sist. O sister ! you cannot ask me such a 
 question.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 115 
 
 Just as she said these words, came a gentleman 
 on horseback, and galloped by the coach side, and 
 looking into the coach, pulled off his hat to her, 
 and having paid his compliments, he rode on : the 
 very moment he looked in the eldest sister had 
 dropped her fan in the chariot, and was stooping 
 down to reach it, and so did not see him ; but when 
 she got up, looking at her sister, she found her look 
 very pale. 
 
 Eld. Sist. What's the matter, sister, says she, 
 (being much frighted,) an't you well ? 
 
 Yo. Sist. No, says she ; lend me your bottle. 
 
 {She gives her a little bottle to smell to, and she 
 began to come to herself.) 
 
 Eld. Sist. What was the matter, sister ? was you 
 frighted ? 
 
 Yo. Sist. I was a little disordered. 
 
 Eld. Sist. What was it ? did those men that rid 
 by say anything to affront you ? 
 
 Yo. Sist. One of them did : did you not see 
 them ? 
 
 Eld. Sist. No ; I heard somebody ride by, but 
 my head was down, looking for my fan : why who 
 was it ? 'twas not Mr. , was it ? 
 
 Yo. Sist. O yes, it was : let us go back, sister, I 
 entreat you ; I am very ill. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Why we have a long way back, and 
 we are almost at Hampstead now ; we had better go 
 to my aunt's, we shall be there presently. 
 
 Yo. Sist. Well, let us, then ; bid him drive 
 apace. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Alas ! there he is, a little before us. 
 
 (She calls to the coachman to drive apace, and 
 looking out of the coach, she saw the gentleman 
 riding softly, with only two footmen, a little way off 
 of the coach.) 
 
 Yo. Sist. If he comes again to the coach side, 
 
 i2
 
 116 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 and offers to speak, I beg of you, sister, do you an- 
 swer him, for I will not speak one word to him. 
 
 Eld. Sist. (she looks out of the coach again.) He 
 is gone now a great way off. 
 
 They soon came to their aunt's house, and went 
 in, the coach standing at the door ; after they had 
 been there a quarter of an hour, the gentleman, who 
 knew well enough where they were, came to the 
 house, and sent in their footman to tell the eldest 
 sister he was there, and desired the favour to speak 
 two or three words with her. 
 
 The servants led him into the parlour, and the 
 young lady came down to him in a few minutes ; he 
 told her, that before he entered into any discourse 
 he must assure her of two things ; first. 
 
 That his overtaking them upon the road was 
 purely accidental, and without the least design, as 
 she might easily be satisfied by his servants and 
 baggage, for he was just setting out on a journey of 
 above an hundred miles, and should not return 
 under three weeks at least ; and secondly, that he 
 had no design in calling in there to move anything 
 to her sister concerning the old affair, but only to 
 have two or three words with her relating to him- 
 self. You know, sister, says he, for I must still 
 give you that name of respect, upon what terms 
 your sister and I parted ; and as I promised her I 
 would wait on her again, and did not, I have been 
 very uneasy lest she might think I showed her some 
 disrespect, and that I took ill what she said to me ; 
 and truly for some time so I did. She answered, 
 coldly, that she believed her sister had not at all 
 been dissatisfied at his not coming again. No, madam, 
 says he, I believe that, by the manner of the dismiss 
 she had given me ; but, however, I would not be 
 rude to her, whatever she thought fit to say to me.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 117 
 
 She returned, and with a little more concern than 
 before, that she hoped, however her sister had 
 thought fit not to go on with what was proposed, 
 yet that she had not been rude to him. No, madam, 
 says he, not rude. Sir, says she, as you had offered 
 nothing to my sister but what was like yourself^ 
 very honourable, I am sure she does not so ill un- 
 derstand herself as to offer anything unbecoming to 
 you. He returned, with a very obliging way of 
 speaking, that her sister understood herself perfectly 
 well ; And, I assure you, says he, she understood 
 my character better than I did myself. I do not 
 rightly take your meaning, sir, says she; my sister 
 could make no objection to your character. Madam, 
 said he, you know very well upon what foundation 
 your sister altered her mind, and absolutely refused 
 any further treaty with me, viz., that I was a pro- 
 fane, 7/icked, irreligious creature : the fact was 
 true, I owned it to her that I neither had any know- 
 ledge of religion, or desired any, for which I was a 
 very great brute. 
 
 I think you were not very sincere, sir, says she. 
 
 O, madam, says he, I do not say I was a brute for 
 owning it, but I was a brute for living in that horrid 
 manner, and yet thinking that any sober woman 
 could entertain a thought of having me. 
 
 I am very sorry, said the lady, it happened so. 
 
 I am very glad, madam, that she treated me so, 
 replied he, and should love her ten thousand times 
 better for it, if that be possible, than ever I did be- 
 fore. 
 
 Says she to him again, Sir, you are pleased to 
 banter a little. 
 
 No, sister, says he, I don't banter ; and my stop- 
 ping to speak with you was for this reason ; I do 
 not ask to speak with your sister, but I beg you will 
 tell her from me very seriously, that she has been a
 
 118 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 better instructor to me than my father or mother, 
 or all the tutors and friends I had in my life ; she 
 has convinced me that I was a monster, a scandalous 
 fellow, that ought to have been ashamed to pretend 
 to a woman that had the least sense of her educa- 
 tion, or of Him that made her : I have reason to 
 give thanks to God every day I live that ever I saw 
 her face, and that I had that repulse from her : tell 
 her, I recommend it to her to preserve that noble, 
 heavenly resolution, which she said she had taken 
 up, viz., never to marry any but a religious man : 
 she is undone if she breaks it; and though I am 
 never able to deserve her, yet I will always think of 
 her as the mother of all that is, or ever will be, 
 good in me, and value the memory of her accord- 
 ingly. He waited no answer, but with all possible 
 civility took his leave, and, his horses being at the 
 door, took horse and went away. She waited on 
 him to the door, and as he was paying his respects 
 to her, sitting on his horse, he said to her. Dear 
 madam, I hope you will give your sister a particular 
 account of what I have said to you : she answered, 
 she would not fail to do it with all the exactness 
 possible. 
 
 As soon as he was gone, she run up to her sister, 
 but before she could speak to her, the youngest 
 sister cried out to her. Sister, before you speak, 
 do not ask me to go down ; for I will not see 
 him. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Don't be so hasty ; he did not desire to 
 see you : he's gone. 
 
 Yo. Sist. Is he gone ? 
 
 {^She observed, for all she was so warm at first, 
 that when she said he did not desire to see her, she 
 changed her countenance a little, and more when 
 she said he was gone.) 
 
 Eld. Sist. Truly, sister, I don't think 'tis fit you
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 119 
 
 should see him ; I see by you, if he was to talk one 
 hour with you, you'd lose all your resolution. 
 
 Yo. Sist. Perhaps that's the reason why I resolve 
 not to see him : won't you allow me to know my 
 own weakness ? is it not enough that I have con- 
 quered myself once ? 
 
 £ld. Sist Yes, I allow it ; and that you act a very 
 prudent part, for I know you struggle with your own 
 affections ; I do not desire to press you, and never 
 did. 
 
 Yo. Sist. I can better keep my resolution of not 
 seeing him, than perhaps 1 might my resolution of 
 not marrying him, if I saw him ; though I know I 
 am ruined if I have him. 
 
 JEld. Sist. As he is now, I don't know whether 
 jou would or no : there's a strange alteration in 
 him. 
 
 Yo. Sist. What do you mean by an alteration ? 
 
 £ld. Sist. Why he is quite another man ; he 
 talks like a man quite changed : you would have 
 been surprised at him. 
 
 Yo. Sist. O ! he has a mind to put that trick upon 
 me : no, no, it's too late now. 
 
 £ld. Sist. What trick do you mean ? 
 
 Yo. Sist. O ! he told me he could play the hypo- 
 crite most nicely, and was sure he could deceive 
 me : but it won't do ; I am prepared for that. 
 
 Eld. Sist. I am sure he was no hypocrite before; 
 he was too plain before ; and I do not see why you 
 should say he's a hypocrite now. 
 
 Yo. Sist. Because he told me he would be so ; he 
 acknowledged he had shown more honesty than 
 discretion before, and was sorry for it ; and that if 
 he was to begin again he would take just the con- 
 trary course. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Well, I dare say he's no hypocrite now, 
 any more than he was before.
 
 120 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Yo. SisL I won't trust him. 
 
 Eld. Sist. But you may give me leave to tell the 
 substance of his discourse. 
 
 Yo. Sist. Dear sister, do not be drawn in to lay 
 snares for me ; you would not be willing to have me 
 deceived : why should you assist in it? I desire to 
 hear nothing of it. 
 
 Eld. Sist. That's very disobliging, sister, to me ; 
 would I assist any man to deceive you, that have 
 so much applauded your resolution not to be de- 
 ceived ? 
 
 Yo. Sist. Nay, and assisted me too in withstand- 
 ing the importunities of my own affections ; or else 
 I believe I had not been able to have supported 
 my sense of duty ; and therefore I wonder you should 
 forsake me now. 
 
 Aunt. Child, do not press your sister to hear 
 anything : I must confess her case is wonderful 
 nice ; she loves the gentleman, she does not stick 
 to acknowledge it ; she has great scruples on her 
 thoughts about her duty to her father, and they all 
 sway on the same side ; her father frights her witl. 
 violent words and hard usage, and threatenings of 
 turning her out of doors ; against all this she stands 
 single, in obedience to her conscience : I think we 
 should assist her. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Dear madam, if my sister was not here 
 I would say a great deal more ; I think she has 
 acted the noblest part, in its kind, that any young 
 body ever did ; I wish I may be able to preserve 
 such a resolution, if ever it should be my case; 
 and I am sure I should be far from discouraging 
 her : but what I was going to tell her was nothing 
 to discourage her : I wish she would let me tell it 
 you first. 
 
 Yo. Sist. Will all my heart ; tell it my aunt : I'll 
 withdraw.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 121 
 
 {She goes out of the room, and the eldest sister 
 tells her aunt what the gentleman had said.) 
 
 Aunt. Well, niece, I do think of the two it may- 
 be still better not to tell it your sister ; let us lay it 
 up in our hearts ; if it be true, and he is a reformed 
 man, we shall perhaps hear more of him ; if not, to 
 persuade her he is really changed, is but to make 
 her love him more, without knowing whether he 
 ever thinks any more of her or no, and that can be 
 no service to her. 
 
 Eld. Sist. I submit, madam, to your directions, 
 but then I break my promise. 
 
 Aunt. You may find a time for that too. 
 
 The discourse broke off here, and her aunt 
 finding the young lady very ill and disturbed, 
 desired her sister to leave her there for a few days, 
 to tell her father how ill she was, and that we 
 thought the country might divert her a little ; but 
 that if he desired her to come home, she would re- 
 turn whenever he pleased. Her eldest sister did so, 
 but all the answer she got was. She might stay there 
 for ever, if she would, he never desired to be 
 troubled with her any more. 
 
 The end of the third dialogue. 
 
 DIALOGUE IV. 
 
 The former dialogue having put an end to the 
 courtship between the gentleman and his mistress 
 for the present, and there being some interval of 
 time between those things and the remaining part 
 of the story, that interval is filled up with another 
 little affair in the same family of still a nicer nature 
 than the other, though not carried so far.
 
 122 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 The father had frequently discoursed these things 
 with his eldest daughter, in the case of her sister, as 
 is to be seen in the last dialogue, and found, by her 
 discourse, that she was pretty much of her sister's 
 mind, in the matter of choosing a husband : but, 
 having a gentleman in his thoughts for her, who had 
 the character of a very sober, religious person, he 
 made no question but he should dispose his daugh- 
 ter both to her satisfaction and his own. 
 
 It was with a view to this design, that he had 
 jested with her, in one of these last discourses, that 
 he had a religious husband in store for her, and that 
 he hoped he should give her no occasion to play 
 the fool, as her sister had done. 
 
 In consequence of this, he took occasion to tell 
 her one evening after supper, that what he had 
 spoken in a way of jest to her, at such a time, was 
 really no jest in his own thoughts ; that he had 
 been spoken to by a certain gentleman, a consider- 
 able merchant in the city, whose eldest son had an 
 inclination to pay his respects to her ; And I assure 
 you, my dear, says the father, he has the character 
 of a very sober, religious gentleman ; and I am sure 
 his father and mother are very good people : indeed, 
 the whole family are noted for a religious family, and 
 I know no family in the whole city that have a 
 better character. 
 
 She made him no answer at all, till he began 
 with her again. Why are you so silent, child ? said 
 her father : have you nothing to say ? Methinks, 
 when I look back upon the disorder which the 
 obstinacy of your sister has put us all in, I would 
 be glad to have every difficulty removed before- 
 hand with you, and therefore I speak early, that 
 if you have any objections, I may hear them, and 
 not be driven afterwards to ask people pardon for 
 ill usage which I have had no hand in; and I would
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 123 
 
 have you use your freedom now, that I may take 
 nothing ill from you afterwards : and thus he 
 pressed her to speak. 
 
 Daughter. I am in no haste, sir, to marry ; the 
 times terrify me ; the education, the manner, the 
 conduct of gentlemen is now so universally loose, 
 that I think for a young woman to marry, is like a 
 horse rushing into the battle ; I have not courage 
 so much as to think of it. 
 
 Father, But there are a great many sober, 
 civilized young gentlemen, in the world ; 'tis hard 
 to reproach them all, because many of them are 
 wicked. 
 
 Da. Sir, it is those civilized people which I 
 speak of; for even those who now pass for sober, 
 are not like what it was formerly ; when you look 
 narrowly among them, as they are, in the gross, ten 
 rakes to one sober man, so, among the sober men 
 that are called civilized men, and whose morals 
 will bear any character, there are ten atheists to 
 one religious man ; and, which is worse than all 
 the rest, if a woman finds a religious man, it is 
 three to one again, whether he agrees with her in 
 principles ; and so she is in danger of being undone, 
 even in the best. 
 
 Fa. I never heard the like ! Why what are my 
 daughters made of? What, is nothing good enough 
 in the world for you? If you all go upon such 
 niceties, I must never think any more of marrying 
 any of you. 
 
 Da. You had rather, sir, not think of it, I dare 
 say, than think of seeing us miserable. 
 
 Fa. Why there is not a man on earth can please 
 you, as you have stated it. 
 
 Da. Providence will either settle me as I would 
 be settled, sir, or will, I hope, dispose you to be
 
 124 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 as well satisfied with my present condition, as 
 lam. 
 
 Fa. Why it seems you are gone mad further 
 than your distracted sister. 
 
 Da. I hope, sir, I am in my senses, and shall be 
 kept so. 
 
 Fa. Why it seems a religious husband won't 
 please you : what is it you would have ? 
 
 Da. I desire, sir, to live as 1 am, at least till 
 something offers which is fit for me to accept. 
 
 Fa. What do you call fit, child? What can be 
 fit, in your way of talking ? 
 
 Da. When my judgment and conscience are 
 satisfied, sir, I believe my fancy will not be very 
 troublesome to you : if 1 must marry, sir, I would 
 have it be so as I may expect God's blessing, and 
 ray father's. 
 
 Fa. I tell you nothing in the nation will satisfy 
 your judgment and conscience, as you call it, if the 
 notion you have of things be true. 
 
 Da. Then I am very well satisfied to remain as I 
 am. 
 
 Fa. That's ungrateful to your father's care for 
 you. 
 
 Da. I am sure, sir, I would not be ungrateful, 
 nor undutiful to you ; but I know not what you 
 would have me do. 
 
 Fa. I would have you see this gentleman that I 
 have proposed to you. 
 
 Da. I shall submit to anything you command me, 
 sir, that is not a breach of my duty to God ; I hope 
 you will desire nothing of me that I cannot do with 
 a quiet mind. 
 
 Fa. Well, you may see him ; I hope that can be 
 no harm. 
 
 Da. If you will please to let me know, then, how 
 far you allow me to be in my own disposal, and how
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. ] 25 
 
 far not ; and whether I have the liberty to refuse 
 him, if I do not like him. 
 
 Fa. Yes, if you will resolve to use your judgment, 
 and not refuse him before you see him, but give 
 good reasons for what you do. 
 
 Da. I think, sir, I ought to have a negative 
 voice, without being obliged to dispute my reasons 
 with my father, for that's just bringing me into the 
 same condition with my sister ; her reasons are 
 good to her, but not to you, sir ; and so you take 
 her conscience of duty to God to be a contempt of 
 her duty to you : I would not be run into the same 
 snare. 
 
 Fa. You are mighty positive in your demanding 
 a negative voice against your father. 
 
 Da. But I had better know my case beforehand, 
 that I may not insist upon more than is my right, 
 and offend you sir, in seeming to encroach upon your 
 government. 
 
 Fa. Let me know, then, what your demand is. 
 
 Da. Sir, I think, when you propose marrying to 
 me, the discourse of portion and settlement is in 
 your province, and I have nothing to do with it : 
 but I think I ought to be at liberty to like or dis- 
 like, receive or refuse the person, and that abso- 
 lutely. 
 
 Fa. What, without showing any reason ? 
 
 Da. No ; I ought, without doubt, to tell my 
 father my objections, and to give a due force to all 
 the arguments my father may use to satisfy my 
 doubts, but I ought not to be forced to like, even 
 though I could not maintain my reasons. 
 
 Fa. And you capitulate with me for this liberty, 
 before you see this gentleman, do you ? 
 
 Da. No, sir, I do not capitulate with you, but I 
 hope you will, on your own accord, grant me the 
 liberty which the nature of the thing calls for ; that
 
 126 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 if I must see the gentleman, I may have the free- 
 dom to take or refuse ; if not, there is no need to 
 see him ; I may be given by contract, and married 
 by proxy, as the great people (fools, I should say) 
 do, as well as by treaty. 
 
 Fa. Well, well, I an't a going to give you, nor to 
 sell you ; if you won't have him, you may let him 
 alone. 
 
 Da. That's all I desire, sir ; with this addition 
 only, viz., that my father will not be displeased or 
 disobliged, whether I take or leave. 
 
 Fa. I can't promise you that, indeed, daughter. 
 
 Da. Then I beg of you, sir, I may never see him 
 at all. 
 
 Fa. Very well ; then it shall be so ; you shall 
 never see him at all : I find you are all alike ; you 
 may look out for yourselves, if you will : but, it may 
 be, I may'nt like your choosing any more than you 
 like mine. 
 
 {He rises up in a passion, and goes away, but 
 comes in again presently.) 
 
 Fa. I wonder what it is you would all have me do 
 in such a case as this : here is a match proposed to 
 your sister ; how she has treated me, you know :. 
 now I have a proposal to you, where the grand ob- 
 jection is removed : what can you desire of a father? 
 
 Da. Sir, I desire only, that if you think fit to dis- 
 course such things as these with us, we might be 
 able to speak for ourselves without discomposing 
 you ; we have not a mother to stand between, and 
 make our objections, and to hear our reasons. 
 
 (She tveeps, and that moves him, especially speak- 
 ing of her mother.) 
 
 Fa. Well, that's true ; it is my loss, as well as 
 yours : come, let me hear, however, if you have 
 any objection against the person I propose now; tell 
 it me : I'll endeavour not to be warm.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 127 
 
 Da. I can have no objection to a man I never 
 saw, or heard of ; but I think we should have a li- 
 berty to refuse, sir, when we come to discourse of 
 such a thing with the person ; and that is all I ask, 
 and that we may not disoblige you, if we use that 
 liberty ; and without that liberty, I desire you will 
 be pleased never to make any proposal at all to me, 
 and if ever I make one myself, I will be content to 
 be denied. 
 
 Fa. You are very positive. 
 
 Da. It seems to be so reasonable, sir, that I can- 
 not think any children can ask less, or any father 
 think it is too hard ; it is the children that are to feel 
 the consequences of the mistake, if there be any. 
 
 Fa. Well, that's true ; come then, if you will talk 
 with this gentleman, you shall have your liberty to 
 take him or to leave him ; have you any objection 
 to make beforehand? If you have, let me know it; 
 that will prevent all occasions of disgust. 
 
 Da. Will you please to hear me with patience, sir? 
 
 Fa. Yes, I will, if I can. 
 
 Da. You have heard so much said by me, sir, in 
 my sister's behalf, that you must necessarily believe 
 I am of the same opinion ; that is to say, that I 
 would not marry a man that made no profession of 
 religion, upon any account whatsoever, were his 
 estate, his person, his sobriety, his qualifications, 
 ever so inviting. I need not give reasons for this, 
 sir ; what I have said, what my sister and my aunts 
 have said on that account, is enough ; but it is my 
 misfortune, sir, to have another scruple beyond all 
 this, and which the case of my sister gave no occa- 
 sion to mention. 
 
 Fa. Very well ; then you intend to be more 
 troublesome than your sister, I find. 
 
 Da. I hope not, sir, because I give my scruples 
 in beforehand ; and if anything offers to you abroad,
 
 128 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 that will shock the foundation I lay down, I hopf 
 you'll not hearken to it on my account, and then 
 you will have no occasion to say I am troublesome. 
 
 Fa. Well, let's hear it, however. 
 
 Da. Why, sir, as I will never marry any man 
 who does not make some profession of religion, 
 however rich and agreeable, handsome or sober, he 
 is ; so, however serious or religious he is, T will 
 never marry any man, whose principles, opinion, 
 and way of worship, shall not agree with my own. 
 
 Fa. And is that your resolution ? 
 
 Da. I hope it is well grounded, sir, and that you 
 will not disapprove my reasons for it, when you 
 please to hear them calmly, and to bear with my 
 mean way of arguing them. 
 
 Fa. I think I was much in the right to say you 
 would be more troublesome than your sister ; how- 
 ever, you do your sister some kindness in it, for 
 this extravagant humour makes hers look a thou- 
 sand times more reasonable than it did before. 
 
 Da. That's what I foresaw, sir ; viz., that I shall 
 remove your displeasure from my sister, and bring 
 it down upon myself ; but I cannot help it. 
 
 Fa. Well, I shall relieve myself against all your 
 humours ; I'll talk no more of settling any of you 
 till your curiosity is abated. 
 
 Though her father seemed to give it over thus in 
 discourse with his daughter, yet he had gone further 
 with the gentleman that made the proposal than he 
 had told her ; and had invited the father and mother 
 to dinner the next day, with an intent that they 
 should see and be acquainted with his daughters ; 
 supposing, at the same time, that they would bring 
 the young gentleman with them. 
 
 They came to dinner accordingly ; but, as the 
 father knew well enough, that the education of their
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 129 
 
 tson was in a different way from that of his daughter, 
 and that she had declared herself so positively in 
 that part, he had desired them privately not to bring 
 their son to dinner. When they were come, and be- 
 fore his daughter was called in, the father told them 
 how the case stood between him and his eldest 
 daughter, and that he saw no remedy but this ; 
 that, as he had not told her anything of the design 
 of this invitation, or that they were the family he 
 had designed her a husband out of; so, if they 
 thought fit to turn their eyes to his second daugh- 
 ter, he was in hopes she would have more wit than 
 to run into the ridiculous scruples of the eldest. 
 They presently agreed, that it was not at all reason- 
 able to force the inclination of the young lady ; that 
 they saw no room to bring the opinions in religion 
 together, in their children, their opinions at that 
 time differing extremely, and their son being as 
 positive, they believed, as his daughter : so they 
 said. With all their hearts ; if their son could fancy 
 the second daughter as well, it should be the same 
 thing to them. However, the mother of the young 
 gentleman asked him if he would give her leave to 
 enter into discourse with his daughter upon the 
 subject of her scruples ? He told her, With all his 
 heart, for he would be glad to have her change her 
 mind ; because, as, on the one hand, he should be 
 very well satisfied to bring them together, so he 
 really thought her notions were empty and simple, 
 and should be glad she was made wiser ; But then, 
 madam, says he, you must not discover the real 
 design, for if you do, ^he will be backward to speak 
 freely. She agreed to that, and so this private dis- 
 course ended ; and his daughters being introduced, 
 and the usual ceremonies passed, they went to din- 
 ner, the young ladies knowing nothing of the design 
 of their being invited. 
 
 R. c. K
 
 130 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 The father and mother were charmed at the con- 
 duct of the young woman ; her person and manner, 
 the modesty of her behaviour, and, above all, the 
 pohteness and pertinence of her discourse : and, 
 something happening to be said about marrying, the 
 father falls to rallying his daughters upon their 
 nicety in that point, that nothing would serve them 
 
 but religious men ; There's my daughter , 
 
 says he, (pointing to his youngest,) I think nothing 
 will do for her but a parson : she refused a gentle- 
 man of 2,000/. a year, t'other day, because he was 
 not religious enough for her. 
 
 No, madam, says his daughter, my father means, 
 because he had no religion at all ; hardly so much 
 as a coach-horse ; for a coach-horse often knows the 
 way to the church-door. 
 
 That alters the case quite, said madam : why, sir, 
 says she, you would not have married your daughter 
 to a brute ! a man without religion is a worse brute 
 than a horse! for the horse obeys the dictates 
 of nature, but an atheist acts against reason, nature, 
 and common sense. I would not marry a child of 
 mine to a man of no religion, if he had ten thou- 
 sand pounds a year. 
 
 Well, says he, there's my daughter , (point- 
 ing to his eldest,) she goes further ; she is not satis- 
 fied with a religious husband, but she must have one 
 of her own opinion in religion, that goes to church 
 where she goes to church, and worships just as she 
 worships : I don't think she will ever be pleased 
 while she lives. 
 
 Madam, says the eldest, I expected my father would 
 be upon my bones next ; my father talks of my opi- 
 nion, as if I was something that nobody else is ; as 
 if I was one of the new prophets, or of some strange 
 singular opinion, something monstrous in religion : 
 all I say is, that, as I profess nothing but what I
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 131 
 
 think is right, and what thousands agree with me in, 
 if ever I do marry, as I suppose I never shall, why 
 should I not choose to have my husband and I of 
 the same opinion, that we may serve God together? 
 
 Madam, says the old lady, your father does but 
 jest with you ; he can never oppose so reasonable a 
 thing as that ; I must confess, 1 think it is much to 
 be desired ; I will not say but there is a possibility 
 of doing well without it ; it may not be a sin ; but 
 I own it is better, if it can be so. 
 
 I am sure 'twould be a sin in me, says the daughter, 
 because it would be against my conscience. 
 
 Nay madam, says the other, that's true ; and you 
 are very much in the right to insist upon it, if it be 
 so ; and no doubt, your father will be far from of- 
 fering anything that may seem to be a violence upon 
 your conscience. 
 
 I offer violence, madam I says the father; nay, 
 they are above that ; they take upon them to say, I 
 \vill, and I won't, to their father ; I assure you they 
 are past my offering violence to them. 
 
 In nothing, madam, but this crabbed business of 
 marrying, says the daughter, and there indeed we 
 do take some liberty with my father. 
 
 Well, sir, says the old lady, you must allow liberty 
 there ; marriage is a case for life, and must be well 
 considered ; and the young ladies are to bear it, fall 
 it how it will, you know, for better or worse ; they 
 had need be allowed some liberty there. 
 
 Besides madam, says the youngest, all the liberty 
 we take is in negatives only ; we don't offer to take 
 anybody that my father don't like, only we don't 
 care to take such as we don't like ourselves. 
 
 The old gentleman then put in : Upon my word, 
 sir, says he, I think your daughters are in the right; 
 for certainly, though we may refuse to let them 
 marry where they mav choose, yet I can't think we 
 
 k2
 
 132 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 should deny them the liberty to refuse what we may 
 offer ; or else we may as well give them in marriage, 
 as was done in old days, and never let them see one 
 another. 
 
 The eldest sister turned her head towards her 
 father at this, but said nothing. 
 
 I understand you, Betty, says her father ; but she 
 said nothing still ; and the old lady, finding the dis- 
 course pinched a little hard, begun some other talk, 
 and soon after, the men withdrawing, left the ladies 
 together. 
 
 When the men were gone ; Hark ye, says the old 
 gentlewoman, I was willing to break off the dis- 
 course just now, because I was afraid it was offensive 
 to your father ; but pray let us talk a little more to 
 you, madam ; I fully approve the resolution of your 
 youngest sister, but methinks yours is a little uncha- 
 ritable, (speaking to the eldest.) 
 
 Eld. Sist. I was very much obliged to you, ma- 
 dam, for breaking off the discourse ; for my father is 
 passionate, and is sometimes so out of temper with 
 us upon these points, that we are greatly grieved at 
 it, and particularly that he will not give us leave to 
 speak. 
 
 Yo. Sist. I am sure it has almost broke my heart. 
 
 Old Lady. I am very sorry for it; for indeed I 
 think yours is nothing but what every woman that 
 is a Christian ought to think herself obliged to : 
 What dreadful doings must there be, when a religi- 
 ous woman marries a wretch that is a despiser of 
 God ! A Christian to be linked to an infidel ! One 
 that serves God to be joined to one of God's enemies! 
 and then to love such a man too ! the very thought 
 is enough to fill one with confusion ! take it which 
 way you will, it is equally dismal. First, to be 
 married to him, and not love him, that's a hell upon 
 earth ! and to love him ! one that we must reflect
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 133 
 
 on as a limb of the Devil ! a son of perdition ! to 
 embrace one that God abhors I to have the affections 
 bound to one that God hates ! what contradictions 
 are these ! what horror must fill the soul while they 
 live I and what dreadful thoughts must crowd into 
 one's mind, if such a man should come to die before 
 us ! Dear young lady, says she, you are happy that 
 you could defend yourself against such a proposal. 
 
 Eld. Sist. But, madam, your charge upon me is a 
 little hard ; I think the arguments are as strong 
 almost on my part as my sister's, though they are of 
 another nature. 
 
 Old La. No, I can't say so, madam ; it is true, 
 there is something to be said in your case, but no- 
 thing so essential as in the other ; and, I said, me- 
 thinks it looks as if you wanted charity: I hope, 
 child, you do not think all opinions but your own 
 are fatal to be professed. 
 
 Eld. Sist. No, madam, not at all : I hope there 
 are good people of all persuasions ; but if I did not 
 think my own best, how could I answer the cleaving 
 to it myself? 
 
 Old La. So far you are right. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Then, madam, though in charity I 
 ought to allow others to be good Christians, and that 
 I should and do keep up a friendly correspondence 
 with many who dissent from my j udgment in religi- 
 ous matters, yet there is a great deal of difference 
 between charity to them, and union with them. 
 
 Old La. You have studied the point thoroughly, 
 I perceive ; I understand you perfectly ; pray go on. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Madam, in discourse with my father, I 
 could never use any freedom, or obtain leave to 
 propose my scruples, with the reasons of them : but 
 I hope you will allow me liberty. 
 
 Old La. With all my heart, madam, for I am 
 glad to enter into so curious a debate with you.
 
 134 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Religion, madam, without-doors, is one 
 thing, religion within-doors is another ; in the town 
 among my acquaintance, and in the neighbourhood, 
 a due charity to every one is what I think the Chris- 
 tian principle calls for, and I converse freely with 
 good people of every opinion, extending charity to 
 all in lowliness of mind, esteeming every one better 
 than myself ; but within-doors the case alters ; 
 family religion is a sociable thing, and God should 
 be worshipped there with one heart, and with one 
 voice : there can be no separation there, without a 
 dreadful breach both of charity and duty. 
 
 Old La. You start a new thing to me, indeed, 
 and it is somewhat surprising. 
 
 Eld. Sist. It may be true, madam, that there may 
 be divers opinions in a nation, without breach of 
 charity ; but I believe it is impossible it should be 
 so in a family, without breach of affection : what 
 union, what oneness of desires, what perfect agree- 
 ment (without which a man and wife can never be 
 said to discharge the duty of their relation) can 
 there be where there is a diversity of worship, a 
 clashing of opinions, and an opposition of principles? 
 
 Old La. But, child, you carry it too high ; if 
 they differ in principles, indeed, there is something 
 to be said ; but we are talking of a difference in 
 opinion only, where the fundamentals may be the 
 same. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Madam, I recall the word principles, 
 then, and join with you to confine it to opinion only; 
 but 'tis the same thing in its proportion ; the union 
 can never be perfect while the differing sentiments 
 of things leave room for disputes between them : for 
 example, madam ; the differing forms of worship ; 
 one will pray by a book only, the other without a 
 book wholly ; this is as light a difference as can be 
 spoken of: but how shall God be worshipped with
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 13o 
 
 the united voice and affections of the whole family, 
 even in this case ? what helps will two such rela- 
 tions be to one another in praying to God, either by 
 themselves, or with their families ? 
 
 Old La. Upon my word, you sensibly affect me 
 now with it. 
 
 Eld. Sist. It is not enough, madam, that they, 
 being sincerely religious apart, shall worship God 
 in their own separate way, though better so than 
 not at all ; but the zeal, the affection, the uniting 
 their hearts in their worship, their praying with and 
 for one another, this, alas ! is all lost. Then say it 
 be in the public worship ; there they may make a 
 woful separation ; God, that has made them one, 
 is served by them as two ; God has joined them to- 
 gether, and they part asunder in their serving him ; 
 God has made them one, and yet they cannot wor- 
 ship him as one : how does this consist, madam ? 
 
 Old La. I see you are full of it. 
 
 Eld. Sist. In their public worship, sacraments, 
 &c., neither one heart or one voice goes with their 
 worship : though they communicate in the same 
 ordinance, they set up two altars ; one worships 
 here, and one there ; and though their faces are 
 both set heavenwards, perhaps they turn back to 
 back as soon as they go out of their doors to the 
 public worship of God. 
 
 Old La. You are very clear in it, indeed, madam. 
 
 Eld. Sist. This is not all, madam ; there are 
 several family circumstances besides these, which 
 make an union of opinion absolutely necessary : as 
 first, family worship is a thing without which, fa- 
 milies, however privately and separately devout, 
 are coupled with heathens, Jer. x. 25, Pour out thy 
 wrath upon the heathen, and upon the families which 
 call not upon thy name: whatever there may in 
 public worship, there should always be an exact har-
 
 136 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 mony in private ; and how can this be, where either 
 of them dissents from the manner ? If there is a 
 discord in the manner, there can be no concord in 
 the performance, no union in the affections ; in a 
 word, their prayers will be hindered, and who would 
 be thus unequally yoked ? 
 
 Old La. I expected you would name that Scrip- 
 ture, though it is certain that was spoken principally 
 to those who married with unbelievers, which is a 
 different case. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Well, madam, but to come to another 
 case : suppose the husband and wife we are speak- 
 ing of have children, what foundation of eternal 
 schism is there in the family ! some of the children 
 adhere to the father, some to the mother ; some 
 worship in this mount, and some nowhere but at 
 Jerusalem ; some go with the father, some with the 
 mother; some kneel down with the father, some with 
 the mother ; till, as they grow up, they really learn 
 not to kneel down at all : family education, united 
 instruction, caution, example, they are all dreadfully 
 mangled and divided, till in the end they come to 
 nothing, and the children grow out of government, 
 past instruction, and are all lost. These, madam, are 
 some of the reasons I would have given my father, 
 (if he would have had patience with me,) why, in his 
 late proposal he had to make, I desired that I might 
 be at liberty to choose by my own principles, and 
 not at random, as too many do. 
 
 Old La. But, madam, do you not allow that if 
 both parties are sincerely pious and religious they 
 may make allowances to one another, and make 
 conscience of hindering and pulling back one an- 
 other in the duties of religion ? 
 
 Lid. Sist. Truly, madam, as to that, two things 
 offer to my view, for I have often considered them 
 both: first, the more sincere in religion either of
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 137 
 
 them are, the more fixed in principle and opinion 
 it is likely they will be, and the further from making 
 abatements to one another; and especially, secondly, 
 in the great article of educating and instructing 
 their children ; for what tender mother, that having 
 fixed her opinion, as she thinks, in the best manner 
 and way, could bear not to have her children 
 brought up in the same sentiments of religion, 
 which she thinks most agreeable to the revealed 
 will of God ? and the more conscientious and reli- 
 gious she was, the more steadily she would cleave 
 to it as her duty ; and the like of the man ; so that 
 here would be a constant heart-burning and uneasi- 
 ness. 
 
 Old La. Truly, madam, I think your reasons 
 good, and you guard them so well, with such self- 
 evident conclusions, that I cannot think your father 
 can desire you to break through them : if you think 
 it will be for your service. Til mention it again to him. 
 
 Eld. Sist. If you do, madam, I desire to be ab- 
 sent ; for he will not bear it from me. 
 
 Old La. Let me alone for that. 
 
 When the old lady had done this conversation 
 she began to call for her husband and the father ; 
 so the young ladies withdrew : when she was come 
 to them she applied herself to the father and her 
 husband in a few words. 
 
 Wife. Upon my word, says she to her husband, 
 the young lady has more religion in her than all of 
 us, and a clearer sight into the particular parts of a 
 religious life than any that ever I met with before. 
 
 Fa. Why, says the father, have you had a battle 
 with my Betty ? 
 
 Wife. No, upon my word, we have had no battles ; 
 I have not been able to open my mouth against one 
 word she says : she is able to run down a whole
 
 138 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 society of doctors in these points ; I am a perfect 
 convert to all she says ; and though I wish, from my 
 soul, my son had such a wife, yet I would not for 
 the world they should come together at the price of 
 putting the least violence upon such noble prin- 
 ciples, so solidly established, and so firmly adhered 
 to ; and I defy all mankind to confute her. 
 
 Hus. You prompt my curiosity; I wish you could 
 tell us a little of the story. 
 
 Wife. A little ! I can easily repeat it to you ; 
 'tis impossible I should forget it: but, it may be, 
 you, sir, (turning to the father,) may not care to 
 hear it. 
 
 Fa. Yes, yes ; I would very willingly hear it, 
 though I did not care to hear it from her. 
 
 Wife. Well, then 
 
 {Here she gives them a full account of all the dis- 
 course above.) 
 
 Hus. I never heard anything more solid, and in- 
 timating a thorough sense of religion, in my life ; I 
 wish my son and she were both of the same opinion, 
 then, for a woman of such principles can never be 
 fatally mistaken in opinion. 
 
 Fa. I confess I would never give her an oppor- 
 tunity to explain herself thus with me; but I assure 
 you I am so moved with it, that I will never offer 
 to impose upon her again. 
 
 Wife. Then you see, sir, it was an error to be so 
 angry with your child as not to hear her ; I fear 
 you have done so with both of them. 
 
 Fa. Truly, I have ; but I say now I have been 
 wrong to them both ; and, indeed, more to my 
 youngest daughter than to my eldest: for she refused 
 the gentleman because he really had no religion at 
 all ; and yet I was in a violent passion with her. 
 
 Wife. Nay, that was hard indeed ; for if there be 
 all this to be said why a woman should not marry a
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 139 
 
 man of a different opinion in religion, there must 
 be much more to be said why she should not marry 
 one that despises religion : and this, indeed, I said 
 to your youngest daughter, applauding her conduct, 
 though I did not know that you had used her hardly 
 on that account. 
 
 Fa. I would be obliged to you, madam, to let me 
 know what discourse you had with her too, for that 
 affair is still depending. 
 
 Wife, With all my heart ; my discourse was not 
 long. 
 
 {She repeats what she had said to the youngest 
 daughter.) 
 
 Fa. Indeed, madam, you are right ; the thing is 
 so indeed ; but he was a pretty gentleman, and had 
 a very noble estate, and I was mightily pleased with 
 the thoughts of the match, and that made me 
 more passionate with the child than I should other- 
 wise have been. 
 
 Wife. But how came she to know he was such a 
 
 one 
 
 Fa. Truly, his own folly too ; he told her so 
 directly, in so many words ; owned he had not 
 troubled his head about religion, and did not intend 
 it ; made a banter and jest of religion in general ; 
 told her, it was a road he had never travelled, and 
 that he intended to choose a wife first, and then, 
 perhaps, he might choose his religion. 
 
 Wife. Nay then, either he had no conduct, or no 
 affection for her. 
 
 Fa. As to the last, he not only professed a great 
 deal of affection, but chose her out from the rest, 
 (and you know she is the youngest, for I designed 
 my eldest for him,) and made her the particular mis- 
 tress of his choice ; and I verily believe loved her 
 very well ; nay, the girl cannot deny but she had a
 
 140 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 kindness for him ; and indeed he is a most lovely 
 gentleman. 
 
 Wife. She has acted a noble part indeed ; and 
 the more affection she really had for him, the more 
 of a Christian she has shown in her conduct. 
 
 Fa. So you would say indeed, if you knew all her 
 conduct, and knew the person too. 
 
 Wife. If it be not improper, I should be glad to 
 know the person. 
 
 Fa. Madam, I should be loath to name him to his 
 prejudice; and if you think it will be so, I hope 
 you will let it go no further. 
 
 Wife. I promise it shall never go out of my 
 mouth without your leave. 
 
 Fa. Why, it is young Mr. , a gentleman 
 
 I believe you have heard of. 
 
 Wife. Heard of him ! we know him intimately 
 well : but I am surprised at it, upon an account 
 that I believe will surprise you too. 
 
 Fa. What can that be ? 
 
 Wife. W^hy, it is true, that gentleman had no re- 
 ligion : poor gentleman ! he came of a most un- 
 happy stock ; there never was any religion in the 
 family ; but yet this may be said of him, he was a 
 modest, sober, well-behaved gentleman ; you never 
 heard an ill word come out of his mouth, nor found 
 any indecent action in his behaviour. 
 
 Fa. That's true ; and I thought that a great 
 matter, as the youth go now. 
 
 Wife. But I can tell you more news than that of 
 him ; he is become the most pious, serious, religious 
 gentleman, in all the country. 
 
 Fa. You surprise me indeed, now. 
 
 Wife. I assure you, 'tis no copy of his counte- 
 nance ; 'tis known, and he is valued and honoured 
 for it by all the gentlemen round him, and he be-
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 141 
 
 haves himself with so much humility, so much seri- 
 ous gravity, that, in short, 'tis the wonder and sur- 
 prise of all that know him. 
 
 Fa. Pray how long has this alteration appeared 
 in him ? 
 
 Wife. About three months, I believe. 
 
 Fa. I wish you had told my daughter this. 
 
 IVife. It was impossible I should have brought 
 such a thing in, that knew nothing of the circum- 
 stance. 
 
 Fa. Nay, if you had, she would not have believed 
 a word of it ; on the contrary, she would have taken 
 it all for a trick of mine, and that I had invited you 
 hither on purpose to bring in such a story. 
 
 Wife. Let me alone for that again another time ; 
 I hope you will give the young ladies leave to return 
 this visit; I desion to invite them to come and see me. 
 
 '&" 
 
 Upon this foot the discourse ended for that lime, 
 and all thoughts of the match for the eldest daughter 
 with the son of that gentlewoman being laid aside 
 for the present, the old lady, at parting, in a very 
 friendly manner, invited the young ladies to her 
 house, and they promised to come, and the father 
 said aloud he would come and bring them. 
 
 It was not long before the young ladies put their 
 father in mind of his appointment ; for being mightily 
 pleased with the old gentlewoman, they had a great 
 mind to pay the visit, that the acquaintance might 
 be settled. Tiieir father appointed the next day, 
 but being interrupted just at the time he intended 
 to go, he caused them to go without him, and send 
 the coach back for him to come after them when 
 his business was done. 
 
 While they were here, the good old gentlewoman, 
 who entertained them with great civility, diverted 
 them with everything she could think of; and after
 
 142 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 abundance of other useful chat, they fell to talking 
 the old stories over again, about religious husbands, 
 and the necessity there was to have both husband 
 and wife join their endeavours for propagating 
 family religion. The youngest daughter repeated 
 her mother's maxim ; Madam, says she, it was a rule 
 my mother gave us at her death, and which I see so 
 much weight in, that I desire to make it the foun- 
 dation upon which I would build all my prospects 
 of happiness, viz., that a religious life is the only 
 heaven upon earth. I have added some other 
 things to it since, which my own observation directs 
 me to, but which I believe you will allow to be in 
 their degree just such as these, viz., that a religious 
 family is one of the greatest comforts of a religious 
 life : that where both husband and wife are not 
 mutually, at least if not equally religious, there can 
 never be truly a religious family : that therefore for 
 a religiously inclined woman to marry an irreligious 
 husband, is to entail persecution upon herself as 
 long as she lives. The old lady replied, I find, 
 madam, as young as you are, you have studied this 
 point very well. Indeed, madam, said the eldest 
 sister, my sister has had occasion for it ; for she 
 has been hard put to it, what with the offers of an 
 extraordinary match, my father's violent passion, 
 and, among ourselves, madam, not a little the im- 
 portunity of her own affections, that for my part, I 
 must confess, I wonder she has been able to stand 
 her ground. They are three powerful arguments, I 
 acknowledge, said the old lady : pray, madam, as 
 far as it may be proper, let me know something of 
 the manner ; you need not mention persons. I am 
 not inquisitive on that score, I assure you. If my 
 sister give me leave, madam, says the eldest. The 
 youngest said, she left her at liberty. Why then, 
 madam, says she, my father .
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 143 
 
 {Here she gives her an abridgment of the whole 
 story, but without the most extravagant part of her 
 father's passion, that it might not reflect upon him.) 
 
 Well, madam, says she, I will not say all my 
 thoughts on this surprising story, because your 
 sister is here ; for 'tis a rule with me, never to 
 praise any one to their face, or reproach any behind 
 their backs : but it is an extraordinary story in- 
 deed ; and turning to the youngest sister, she said 
 to her very seriously, I pray God fortify you, child, 
 in such resolutions, and grant that you may have 
 the true end of them fully answered ; that, if ever 
 you do marry, it may be to a man as uncommonly 
 serious, pious, and sincere, as you have been inimi- 
 tably resolute in refusing such great offers, for the 
 want of it. Then, turning to her eldest sister, says 
 she. This surprising story puts me in mind of an- 
 other story, which a very good man, an old ac- 
 quaintance of ours, told me the other day, and 
 which, they say, has just now happened to a young 
 gentleman that he knows in the country ; it is a 
 pretty way off too, but he told us his name ; I 
 believe my husband knows the name, and I tell you 
 the story for your sister's encouragement : who 
 knows, but she may be a means, by such unexampled 
 conduct, as this of hers is, to bring the gentleman 
 she has had upon her hands to some sense of his 
 condition! 
 
 There is a gentleman in that country, of a very 
 good family, and of a very great estate, but young, 
 and, I think he said, a bachelor ; he is not above 
 six-and -twenty, and has between two and three 
 thousand a year ; it seems, he is a most accom- 
 plished, well-bred man, a handsome, charming per- 
 son ; and everything that could be said of a man, 
 to set him out, he said of him : he had, indeed, 
 been of a family, he said, that had been emi-
 
 144 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 nently wicked, so that the very name of religion 
 had scarce been heard of among them for some 
 ages ; and young master, said my friend, could not 
 be said well to be worse than his father and grand- 
 father who went before him. 
 
 However, it happened, it' seems, that he went to 
 London; I think, says she, my friend said 'twas last 
 winter, and when he came back, he was strangely 
 melancholy and dejected, and quite altered in his 
 conversation ; instead of riding abroad and visiting 
 the gentlemen, and receiving visits from them, he 
 shunned all company, walked about his gardens and 
 woods all alone till very late in the night, and all 
 his servants wondered what ailed him ; that one 
 night they were in a great fright for him, knowing 
 he was out on foot, and alone ; when, about ten 
 o'clock at night, he came in with a poor honest 
 country fellow with him, that lived almost three 
 miles off; that the next day he took that poor man 
 home to his house, and sent for his wife and chil- 
 dren, who all lived before in a poor cottage on the 
 waste, and provided for them ; gave the poor man 
 a farm rent-free for twelve years, which always 
 went for 221. a year, with a good house ; lent him 
 a stock for manuring it too, and made him a bailiff 
 of the manor, and, in short, made a man of him : 
 whereupon, everybody said that the esquire had 
 been in some great danger or other, and the poor 
 man had saved his life ; and, when somebody hap- 
 pened to say as much to him one day, he answered, 
 Yes, that poor man had done more than saved his 
 life, for he had saved his soul. 
 
 It seems, this poor labouring wretch, though 
 miserable to the last degree, as to this world, was 
 yet known to be a most religious, serious Christian, 
 and a very modest, humble, but knowing and sensi- 
 ble man, and he had been discoursing good things
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 145 
 
 with him, and from that time forward the poor man 
 was scarce ever from him ; that it was observed by 
 some of the servants, that the next morning after 
 the poor man came home with him, he came again, 
 and brought a Bible with him, which was left in the 
 young gentleman's chamber, and that this poor man 
 and he were often locked up an hour or two to- 
 gether, almost every day; that next raarket-day 
 the poor man went to the next market-town, upon 
 some business for the gentleman, and brought home 
 a new Bible, and several other religious books, and 
 that his master was continually reading them : in 
 short, our friend tells us, said she, that he is be- 
 come the most sober, religious Christian, that, for 
 a man of his fortune and quality, has ever been 
 heard of, and that he is admired by all the country 
 for it. 
 
 I tell you this story, madam, turning to the 
 youngest sister, to confirm you in your resolution, 
 and to let you see that there are some religious 
 gentlemen in the world still, and that the gentle- 
 men may be ashamed when they pretend to say 
 religion is below their quality ; for my friend says, 
 that this gentleman is, with his religion, also the 
 humblest, sweetest tempered creature in the world, 
 ready to do good offices to the poorest of the coun- 
 try, and yet mannerly and agreeably pleasant with 
 the greatest ; and his family is a little pattern of 
 virtue to all round them. 
 
 Ay, madam, says the eldest, 'tis such a gentle- 
 man ray sister would have : But, says her sister, 
 where are they to be found? I never expect it. 
 Pray, madam, says the eldest sister, in what part of 
 the world does this black swan, this unheard-of, 
 nonsuch thing of a gentleman live ? I really forget 
 the place, madam, says the old lady, but it is some- 
 where in Hampshire. 
 
 K. C. 1.
 
 146 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 She perceived, at that word, both the young 
 ladies changed a little, and looked at one another ; 
 so she turned her discourse off to some other sub- 
 ject, and left them in the dark as to the name of 
 the gentleman ; for she perceived they both guessed 
 at it, or suspected it. 
 
 When they had taken their leave, and the two 
 sisters were in the coach coming home, says the 
 eldest sister to the other, Did you observe Mrs. 
 
 's story of the gentleman in Hampshire? 
 
 Yes, said the other, I did ; and I believe you fancy 
 'tis the same person we know of It is very true, 
 says the eldest, I did think so all the while she was 
 telling the story ; and I expected she would name 
 him, but I was loath to ask her his name. I am 
 glad you did not, says the other, for I know no 
 good it can be to me to hear it, one way or other, 
 now he is gone. Why would not you be glad to 
 know that he was really such a one as she has 
 described? says the eldest. Yes, truly, for his 
 own sake I should, said her sister; but it is 
 nothing to me now ; I had rather never have him 
 mentioned at all to me, upon any occasion what- 
 ever. 
 
 After they were come home, their father, who 
 had been engaged all the while, had sent the coach 
 back for them, with an excuse for his not coming ; 
 was very inquisitive to know of them what dis- 
 course they had had ; and, his eldest daughter 
 telling him one story and another story, he would 
 cry. Well, was that all? For he expected she had 
 broke the thing to them. No, says the eldest, she 
 told us a strange story in Hampshire ; and with 
 that repeated the passage word for word. Her 
 father took no notice of it at that time, but two or 
 three days after, as they were at supper, he says to 
 his eldest daughter, Betty, who do you think the
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 14 i 
 
 gentleman in Hampshire is, that Mrs. B- 
 
 told you the story of ? I cannot tell, says she ; pray 
 who was it ? Even as I thought when you told of 
 it, said her father, for I had heard something of it 
 
 before ; it is nobody else but Mr. , the same 
 
 your wise sister there thought fit to treat with so 
 much ill manners. 
 
 Nay, sir, says the eldest, do not say my sister 
 treated him with ill manners ; for he owns the 
 contrary to that himself: but, how are you sure of 
 it, sir, that it is he ? Why, I have had the story, 
 says her father, from her husband, who is greatly 
 affected with it, and he named his name to me, not 
 knowing in the least that I knew anything of him. 
 
 Truly, says the eldest, 1 am very glad of it for 
 his sake, but it does not signify a farthing to her 
 now ; for, if he was to come to her again to- 
 morrow, with all the sobriety and reformation 
 about him, she would have nothing to say to him. 
 
 Why so, child, says the father, did you not own 
 she loves him ? Yes, says the daughter, before she 
 came to know what a creature he was. Well, then, 
 says the father, if that be removed, and he is be- 
 come another man, she will love him again ; for 
 she had no other objection against him, had she ? 
 No, sir, says the daughter, she had no other objec- 
 tion ; but she will never believe him, let his 
 pretences to religion be what they will. Why so ? 
 says the father. Because, sir, he told her, that if 
 he had known her mind, he would have pretended 
 to a world of reformation and religion, and that he 
 did not doubt but he could be hypocrite enough to 
 cheat her. 
 
 Nay, if he has been so foolish, I know not what to 
 say to it, says the father ; let it rest as it is : if she 
 will not have him, whether he be religious or not 
 religious, then the objection of his being not re- 
 
 L 2
 
 148 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 ligious was a sham and a cloak, and she stands out 
 in mere obstinacy against her own interest, purely 
 to affront her father ; let her go on, till she comes 
 to be convinced by her own misfortune ; I'll meddle 
 no more about it. 
 
 The eldest sister failed not to relate this story 
 very particularly to her sister, who, very gravely 
 musing on the particulars, answered her sister thus, 
 after several other sober and religious expressions : 
 
 Dear sister, says she, this thing has been affliction 
 enough to me ; but my father's conduct has always 
 made it double ; because he cannot talk of it with- 
 out resentment and unkindness : if it be really so, 
 
 that this is the gentleman Mrs. B told us 
 
 the story of yesterday, I should rejoice ; nay, 
 though I am loath to be cheated, and what he said 
 of playing the hypocrite with me has made me the 
 more backward to give credit to outsides, yet, were 
 I sure it was a real work of God in him, and that 
 he was become a religious gentleman, you know I 
 have affection enough to rejoice on my own ac- 
 count, and to entertain him after another manner 
 than before : but yet two things make it still 
 remote from me ; first, that I have no demonstra- 
 tion of the truth of the fact : and secondly, that, if 
 it is so, he has made no step towards me, and 
 perhaps never may ; and you know, sister, con- 
 tinued she, 'tis no business of mine till he does. 
 
 Why, that's true, says the eldest sister ; but 
 what must be done then ? 
 
 Done ! says she, let it alone ; let it rest till we 
 hear something or other of it in the ordinary way 
 of such things. 
 
 But what must we do with my father ? says the 
 eldest, for he is always talking to me about it. 
 
 Do ! says the other, give the same answer to him 
 from me, as I do to you.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 149 
 
 Then, says the eldest, I am sure he will never 
 rest, till he brings it about again ; for he is strangely 
 intent upon it. 
 
 Let that be as pleases God, I will be wholly 
 neuter, says the youngest sister. 
 
 Some time after this discourse, the father, hav- 
 ing some occasion, for his health, went down to 
 the Bath, and taking all his daughters with him, 
 they continued there some months ; in which time 
 they contracted an acquaintance with a lady and 
 her two daughters, who came thither from Hamp- 
 shire. The old lady had been a widow of a gentle- 
 man of quality, by whom she had had two daugh- 
 ters, but was now married to an eminent clergyman 
 in the country where she lived ; and they were all 
 together at the Bath, and lodged in the same apart- 
 ments with these ladies. 
 
 It happened one day after dinner, talking freely to- 
 gether about marrying religious husbands and wives, 
 the eldest daughter, as what is always much upon the 
 mind, will be, in proportion, much upon the tongue, 
 insisted in discourse upon the misery of unequal 
 matches, and how unhappy it was, either to hus- 
 band or wife, when a religious, pious, sincere Chris- 
 tian, whether man or woman, was married to an- 
 other, who had no sense of religion ; and she gives 
 a long account of a relation of their father's, but 
 without naming their aunt, how good a husband 
 she had in all other respects, how comfortably and 
 pleasantly they lived, but only for that one thing; 
 and then she told them, still without naming any- 
 body, how many odd tricks sir James served his 
 lady, and the like. 
 
 Well, madam, says the old clergyman, I can tell 
 you such a story of a lady in our county, as I be- 
 lieve you never heard the like ; I do not know the 
 woman, says the doctor, but I know the gentleman
 
 1 50 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 intimately well, and have had a great deal of reli- 
 gious conversation with him, upon the occasion I 
 shall tell you of. 
 
 He courted a young lady, says the doctor, but 
 whether she lived in our county, or city, or where, 
 he is perfectly mute, only that he often tells her 
 Christian name; and, seeing he seems resolved to 
 conceal her person, nobody will be so rude to 
 press him on that head. 
 
 The gentleman, says the doctor, is of a very good 
 family, has a noble estate, a comely person, and a 
 complete courtly education, and, till this happened, 
 was almost always at London. 
 
 His mistress must be little less than an angel in 
 human shape, by his description, but that we give 
 no heed to ; for, madam, says the old doctor, you 
 know, men in love give themselves a liberty that 
 way ; but, however, after all things were agreed, 
 and the writings drawing, it seems, she threw him 
 off entirely, and refused him merely because she 
 found he was a man of no religion. 
 
 Says the eldest sister. How could she know that, 
 sir ? he was not so foolish to tell her so himself, I 
 suppose. 
 
 Yes, says the doctor, he did. Why then, says 
 the sister, I suppose he was very indifferent whether 
 he had her or no. Indeed, says the doctor, one 
 would think so, and I said so to him ; but he told 
 me that it was so far from that, that he had taken 
 up his resolution never to have any other woman, if 
 she were the richest, best, and most beautiful crea- 
 ture alive. 
 
 Then perhaps the lady has a superior fortune to 
 him, besides her other qualifications, says the sister. 
 No, just the contrary, says the doctor. But, madam, 
 says he, I'll tell you the history of this gentleman, if 
 it is not too long for you j 'tis a story cannot be un-
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 151 
 
 profitable to any one to hear, especially to you 
 ladies who have taken up such happy resolutions 
 about marrying none but religious husbands. The 
 ladies bowed, in token they desired him to go on 
 with the story. So the doctor went on. 
 
 Nothing touched this gentleman so near, says he, 
 after he was gone from his mistress, as to reflect 
 what kind of a wretch or monster he was, that a 
 virtuous young lady, and one who he had reason to 
 believe had no dislike of him, should be afraid to 
 marry him for fear of being ruined, and that she 
 should think if she took him, she declared war 
 against Heaven, and renounced all pretensions of 
 duty to her Maker. 
 
 {Here he related the whole story, his talk with 
 himself, the discourse at the chocolate house, his 
 retreat into the country, his happening to hear the 
 poor countryman at prayer, his conversation with 
 him upon the way, and his conduct afterwards, all 
 in the manner as related before.) 
 
 We must suppose the sisters to have much less 
 sense of religion than they were known to have, 
 and particularly less sense of the case itself, in which 
 it was easy to know they were nearly concerned, if 
 they were not very much moved with the parti cu- 
 lais of this story ; and no sooner had the doctor 
 flushed his relation, with some very handsome re- 
 flections upon it, but the sisters longed to with- 
 draw, to compare their own thoughts together, 
 whtre they could do it with freedom. 
 
 iut the eldest daughter went further ; for though, 
 perlaps, her curiosity was not greater than her 
 sister's, yet as her courage was greater, and her 
 concern in it less, she was resolved to get the name 
 of ths gentleman if possible ; accordingly, at length, 
 she asked the doctor if the name of this gentleman 
 was I secret. No, madam, says the doctor, the
 
 152 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 whole neiglibourhood know the story in general, 
 and it is nothing at all to his dishonour. No, in- 
 deed, sir, says she, but just the contrary; and if it 
 was otherwise, I would not have asked his name. 
 Indeed, madam, says the doctor, his name is no 
 
 secret ; it is Mr. , the eldest son of sir 
 
 Thomas , by whom he enjoys an estate of 
 
 2000/. a year, and after his uncle, who is very old, 
 he has near a thousand pounds a year more en- 
 tailed upon him. 
 
 The two sisters had heard too much to hold any 
 longer, the youngest especially, who pretending 
 some indisposition, withdrew, and her sister soon 
 after. When her sister came to her, she said. Well, 
 child, what do you say to this story ? There is no 
 room to think there can be any design in this old 
 gentleman, or any hypocrisy in the particulars, if 
 they are true. 
 
 Her sister said never a word, but she found she 
 had been crying, and that she was still too full of 
 it to speak ; so she let her alone awhile, till, af er 
 some time fetching a great sigh, which gave her 
 passions some vent, says the youngest. Why, what 
 do you say to it? I say to it, says the eldest 
 sister, I can say neither less or more to it than 
 what the two disciples said to one another, going to 
 Emmaus, about our Saviour's discourse to them, 
 after he was gone. Did not our hearts burn wihin 
 us when he talked to us ? I am sure mine 4id, 
 says she. Ay, and mine too, says the youngest ; but 
 it is all nothing to me now. Now, says the eliest 
 sister, if all the story be true, it may be something 
 to you still ; for, you see, the doctor says le is 
 resolved to have nobody else. I give no hefd to 
 that, says the youngest sister, for the table; are 
 quite turned now between us, and he ought o re- 
 fuse me now, for the very same reason that I re-
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 153 
 
 fused him before ; for I have not religion enough 
 for such a convert as this, I am sure, any more 
 than a man without any notion of a Deity, had 
 rehgion enough for me. Well, well, says her sister, 
 let Providence, which brings all things to pass its 
 own way, work as he sees fit ; I dare say, as my 
 aunt said, we shall hear more of it. 
 
 They had very little discourse at that time but 
 what ended thus : but the eldest sister had a great 
 mind her father should hear the story too, if possi- 
 ble, before they left the place ; and she resolved to 
 take an opportunity to bring it about, if she could ; 
 but she was happily prevented by the forwardness 
 of her father to complain of his daughter's nicety on 
 all occasions : for in discourse with the doctor and 
 his lady, the young ladies on both sides being ab- 
 sent, took a liberty to exclaim vehemently how 
 foolish one of his daughters had been, and how she 
 had obstinately cast off a gentleman of such and 
 such qualifications, as before. My dear, says the 
 
 doctor's lady to him, pray tell Mr. the 
 
 story you told the young ladies yesterday. With 
 all my heart, said the doctor ; so he repeated the 
 whole story. 
 
 The father was exceedingly surprised at the par- 
 ticulars, but more when the doctor told him the 
 name of the gentleman ; however, he held his 
 tongue, as it happened, and did not let the doctor 
 know how near it related to his family ; but in the 
 evening, taking his opportunity, he calls his eldest 
 daughter to him, Hark ye, Betty, says he, did the 
 doctor tell you a story t'other day of a gentleman in 
 Hampshire ? Yes, sir, says she. And was your 
 sister by ? says he. Yes, sir, says she. And do you 
 
 know that this is the same Mr. that we 
 
 know of? says her father. Yes, sir, says she ; he 
 told us his name. W>11, and what does your sister
 
 154 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 say to it ? says he. She says little, sir, says his 
 daughter ; but she cannot but be moved with it, for 
 'tis a surprising story. I dare say, says her father, 
 I shall hear of him again ; she won't turn him off 
 again, I hope ; I am sure she does not deserve him 
 now. She says so herself, says the daughter, that 
 he ought to refuse her now for the same reason that 
 she refused him. Well, says the father, we shall 
 certainly hear of him again, I am fully persuaded ; 
 he will have no rest till he comes to see her again. 
 
 A few weeks after this they returned to London, 
 and the eldest sister, being impatient to see her 
 aunt, and to give her some account of these things, 
 they went both away to Hampstead ; when they 
 came thither, she failed not to give her aunt a par- 
 ticular account of all these passages, as well that 
 which had happened at their visit to the merchant's 
 lady in London, as what had happened at the Bath, 
 all which, but especially the last, were wonderfully 
 surprising and agreeable to their aunt. Well, niece, 
 says the aunt to the youngest sister, what do you 
 think of these things? I can say little to them, 
 madam, says she ; I am glad, for his sake, that God 
 has opened his eyes. But is it no satisfaction to 
 you, child, says her aunt, that you have been so far 
 the instrument of it ? Alas ! madam, says she ; I 
 the instrument ! I have been none of the instru- 
 ment, not L Yes, yes, replies her aunt, you have, 
 and he acknowledges it too : and, turning to the 
 eldest sister, says she, I think, child, now you may 
 perform your promise, and tell your sister what he 
 said to you when he called here as he went out of 
 town. Yes, madam, says she, so I think too. 
 
 {Here she gives her sister a full account of ivhat 
 he had said, as before.) 
 
 I think you might have told me this before, says 
 the youngest sister. Nay, sister, repUed she, did
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 155 
 
 you not take me short, and forbid me telling you 
 anything, and withdrew out of the room, and bid 
 me tell it my aunt ? Why that's true, I did so, 
 says she again ; and I have been so confused, that 
 I know not when I do well, and when I do ill. In- 
 deed, niece, says her aunt, I also obliged her not to 
 tell you : for I concluded, if there was anything in 
 it, we should hear of it again ; and if we did not, it 
 could do you no service. 
 
 While they were talking thus, a coach stopped at 
 the door, and a servant brought word, their father, 
 and another gentleman with him, was below stairs. 
 
 It will be necessary here to leave this part awhile, 
 and bring forward the story of the young gentle- 
 man, as far as it is needful to the coherence of 
 things ; the story also will be very short. 
 
 The young gentleman, having, as has been said, 
 taken his new tutor, the poor countryman, into the 
 house with him, received so much assistance from 
 his advice, and had daily such instruction in reli- 
 gious things, from the wholesome, plain counsels, of 
 this humble poor creature, that the benefit of them 
 soon appeared in his conversation, and his reforma- 
 tion soon became visible in the general course of his 
 life ; he kept company with the soberest, gravest, 
 and most religious persons, that he could find ; he 
 kept a most sober, regular, reformed family ; and, 
 seeming to resolve to reside pretty much there, for 
 the better government of his family, he took in a 
 young minister of an extraordinary good character 
 to be his chaplain, and caused every servant who 
 appeared disorderly or vicious to be put away out 
 of his house. 
 
 These, as the natural consequences of a sincere 
 work upon his own mind, were the visible product of 
 that blessed change, and indeed an agreeable evi-
 
 156 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 dence of that sincerity of it ; but they were far from 
 being the sum of things ; for, in a word, he proved 
 to be a most pious, sincere Christian, in all his ways ; 
 and as this was attended with a natural sweetness in 
 his disposition, modesty and generosity in his man- 
 ner, and an excellent temper, free from all manner 
 of pride or hypocrisy, it made him perfectly agree- 
 able to all sorts of people ; those who were not like 
 him, valued and honoured him, and the sober, reli- 
 gious part of men, were delighted in him beyond ex- 
 pressing. 
 
 He went on thus for near two years ; lived gene- 
 rally in the country ; and if he came to London, as 
 occasion required, yet it appeared that his choice 
 was rather for the country ; especially, because he 
 could not be long from his faithful assistant, the 
 poor clergyman, who was upon all occasions, as we 
 may say, clerk of the closet to him, and with whom 
 he kept up a most religious but secret conversation, 
 and had retirements with him, which none were ac- 
 quainted with but themselves. 
 
 But in all this enjoyment of himself, and the re- 
 tired life he had now placed his delight in, he found 
 something still wanting too, as well to complete his 
 happiness here, as to forward his progress in things 
 of an eternal and durable nature ; and he began to 
 say to himself, that he had robbed himself of much 
 of his comfort, in neglecting so long to have the 
 assistance of that blessed creature, whom God had 
 made the first instrument to touch his mind with a 
 sense of good things. 
 
 These thoughts dwelt upon his heart a great 
 while, and he found himself very uneasy : it oc- 
 curred to him, that certainly, as it had pleased God 
 to make that young woman give him the alarm, and 
 strike his soul with the first sense of his wretched 
 condition, he had certainly furnished her for his
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 157 
 
 further assistance, and made her capable of giving 
 him further help, light, and directions, in his duty, 
 and that he stood in the way of his own comforts all 
 the while he was without her ; nay, that he seemed 
 to reject the instrument by which God had done 
 him so much good, without inquiring whether God 
 had designed her for his further benefit or no. 
 
 He reflected how suitable a disposition she was 
 of in religious things to the design he had of keep- 
 ing up a religious family, and how admirable a wife, 
 a mother, a mistress, such a lady must needs be to 
 him and his whole house, who now saw the truth of 
 the excellent sentence she had often repeated to 
 him, viz., That a religious life was the only heaven 
 upon earth. He discoursed of all these things with 
 his faithful counsellor, poor William, who pressed 
 him by all the persuasions he could use to go and 
 make her his own, for it was the only fear, \yilliam 
 said, he had for him, that he would marry some 
 lady, who, having been brought up in the usual 
 levity of the times, would pull him backward, rather 
 than forward him in his religious resolutions. 
 
 With these thoughts he resolved to go to Lon- 
 don, and apply himself immediately to his former 
 mistress, and obtain her for his ov/n if possible ; but 
 was exceedingly disappointed when he found she 
 and her father, and all the family, were gone to 
 the Bath. 
 
 However, he waited, and hearing of their return, 
 he went immediately to make his visit w^ithout any 
 ceremony. When he found she was abroad, he fell 
 to work seriously with her father ; he told him, 
 that the last time he was there, he had indeed pro- 
 mised to wait on her again, but had not yet done it, 
 for which he was come now to ask her pardon, and 
 to give her the reason of it, and hoped he would 
 give him leave to see his daughter again, notwith-
 
 158 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Standing what had passed. Her father told him, he 
 had received an account how his daughter had used 
 him ; that he was in the country when it happened, 
 otherwise he should have concerned himself to have 
 secured him better treatment ; that he had re- 
 sented it so already to his daughter that he had 
 scarce been on speaking terms with her since; 
 that as to his promise of coming again, he believed 
 she was convinced that she had no reason to ex- 
 pect it, seeing no gentleman would care to be ill 
 used twice upon the same occasion. The young 
 gentleman answered, that he was very sorry he 
 should resent anything from his daughter on his 
 account ; that he was surprised to hear him say she 
 had ill used him ; that upon his word she had not 
 done or said the least unbecoming thing to him ; 
 that he was even then, when she did it, fully con- 
 vinced of the reasonableness of what she had said, 
 and ten times as much, if that were possible, and 
 also of the just motives she had to say it to him ; 
 that if she had done less, she would have acted 
 from meaner principles than he knew she was mis- 
 tress of, and that her reasons were so good, and 
 she so well maintained them, that he had neither 
 then, or now, the least thing to offer against them, 
 and that his business was not now to answer her 
 arguments, but to see if he could comply better 
 with the just demands that she then made, than he 
 could before. 
 
 The father answered with a great many compli- 
 ments and excuses, and such-like discourses ; but 
 the gentleman found that he neither relished the 
 reason of his daughter's refusal, or was affected at 
 all with all he could say to convince him how he 
 had taken it ; and modesty forbidding him to go 
 further in any declaration about religious matters, 
 especially where he found there was no taste of it,
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 159 
 
 he declined saying any more about it, but he 
 turned his discourse to desiring another interview 
 with his daughter upon the terms of former 
 proposals ; which the father consenting to, they 
 went together in the young gentleman's chariot to 
 Hampstead, where the young ladies were ; and this 
 was the gentleman, who, as I observed, was come 
 to the door with their father, just as they were, 
 above, talking of him with their aunt. 
 
 I had given an account before, that they heard a 
 coach stop at the gate, and that a servant brought 
 up word that their father, and another gentleman, 
 was below stairs ; but they were surprised, you may 
 be sure, when the eldest sister, going down first, 
 comes running up stairs again with the news, in 
 
 short, that it was Mr. , and that their father 
 
 had brought him. 
 
 The aunt, unwilling her niece should appear in 
 any disorder, says to her. Come, child, you two 
 shall stay a little, and let me go down first ; which 
 the younger sister was very glad of It was easy 
 to perceive, and the passages already related will 
 allow us to suppose, that although it was some sur- 
 prise to the young lady to have him come thus 
 suddenly and abruptly upon her, having not pre- 
 pared her thoughts, or resolved upon what recep- 
 tion to give him, and not having the least intima- 
 tion from her father upon what account he came, 
 yet that she was not alarmed, as she used to be ; 
 the scruples of her conscience were all answered ; 
 her jealousies of his hypocrisy were over ; and her 
 affections had little or nothing to struggle with 
 now, unless she might doubt his resentment of 
 things past, and whether he came upon the old 
 account, or rather to perform his promise, and 
 make a visit of ceremony only. However, she 
 begged her sister to speak to her aunt, that they
 
 160 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 might stay at her house, and that she might receive 
 his visits there, because then she would have her 
 aunt to advise and consult with on every occasion, 
 and then that she would put off their being left 
 together that night, that she might consider things 
 a little, and know the better how to receive him. 
 
 Her sister went down, and sending for her aunt 
 into another room, proposed the first to her ; Let 
 me alone, niece, for that, says she. So the other 
 went up to her sister, and soon after the father call- 
 ing for his two daughters, they went down into the 
 room. It was easy for her, at first sight, to per- 
 ceive that her lover was not at all altered in his 
 affection to her ; that he did not come to her with 
 resentment or with ceremony ; for he flew to her, 
 took her in his arms, and told her he came to see if 
 she had goodness enough to pardon his not keeping 
 his word with her, in coming to wait on her again, 
 and also to claim her promise of staying for him. 
 He spoke this so softly, as not to be heard by the 
 company, and without expecting any answer, 
 turned about to pay his respects to her aunt ; in 
 doing which, he told her, he hoped she would 
 give him leave to wait upon her niece at her house. 
 
 The aunt took the hint, and turning to the father. 
 Brother, says she to him privately, I think if you 
 would let my niece stay here for some time, and 
 let the gentleman come to wait on her here, I 
 would take care to prevent such little scruples as 
 you know interrupted that affair before, and you 
 will the sooner bring it to an end, according to 
 your mind. With all my heart, says the father; 
 if we had done so before, I believe she had not 
 played the fool as she did. 
 
 Upon this, turning themselves to the company, she 
 says aloud. Niece, I don't intend to lose your com- 
 pany thus ; I suppose, if this gentleman designs to
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 161 
 
 visit you, he won't think it a great way to come 
 to Hampstead, which, now the roads are so 
 good, is not above an hour's driving ; and I hope 
 we shall not make his entertainment so ill as to 
 make him weary of coming hither. Her niece said, 
 that must be as her father pleased to direct. I 
 know that, said her aunt, and therefore I have got 
 your father's cor.sent already. They both bowed 
 to her in token of assent, and night coming on, her 
 father talked of going away ; so he told her he 
 would take another opportunity to wait on her; 
 which was what she had desired. And thus ended 
 their first meeting. 
 
 They had scarce dined the next day, but, as he 
 had said, he came to visit her, and they had the 
 whole afternoon to themselves ; and from that day 
 they began to understand one another so well, that, 
 in a few weeks, matters began to draw to a close. 
 But, because some part of their discourse is neces- 
 sary to finish the former account, and may be as 
 useful as it is entertaining, I shall first give some 
 of the particulars, as they occurred in discourse 
 between her and her aunt and sister, upon this 
 occasion. 
 
 As she had advised with her sister and aunt upon 
 every particular, and especially with her sister, 
 from the first of it, so she made no scruple to give 
 them a full account of things as they passed. It 
 was one morning, after the gentleman had been 
 above a week in his new addresses, that coming 
 into her aunt's dressing-room, she found her sister 
 there drinking coffee with her aunt, and her sister 
 began with her thus : — 
 
 Eld. Sist. Well, sister, you used to be free with 
 a body, and tell one now and then how things went 
 with you ; now we hear nothing from you. What, 
 is it all to be a secret ? 
 
 R. C. M
 
 162 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Aunt. Nay, niece, you ought not to press your 
 sister to give an account of such things. 
 
 Eld. Sist. When she wanted advice, madam, she 
 was open enough. 
 
 Aunt. For my part, I wish her as well as I do my 
 own children ; but I cannot desire her to give any 
 account of such things, unless she wants advice in 
 anything; and then she's a judge of that. 
 
 Vo. Sist. Indeed, madam, if I have not told any- 
 thing, or everything, both to you and my sister, it 
 has not been by way of reserve ; I am ready to give 
 you a full account of all you desire ; for there is no- 
 thing passes between us that need be concealed from 
 you that are so near to me. As for my sister, I told 
 her every passage before ; and as for you, madam, 
 did I not desire to be here, that I might consult and 
 advise with you, and have your directions in every 
 step ? and I have wondered you have never asked 
 about it before. 
 
 Eld. Sist. The chief thing I want to know is, how 
 you find him as to the grand affair of religion ; and 
 whether you think him a hypocrite or no. 
 
 Aunt. Ay, that's what I am curious about. 
 
 Yo. Sist. I am but an ill judge of sincerity, es- 
 pecially in a case where my inclinations, you know, 
 are partial. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Why you were the nicest creature 
 alive before, sister ; and yet, you know, your affec- 
 tions were the same way then. 
 
 Aunt. Ay, niece, what can you say to that ? 
 
 Yo. Sist. Madam, my sister takes it quite 
 wrong. 
 
 Eld. Sist. How do I take you wrong, sister ? did 
 not you conclude him to be an atheist ? 
 
 Yo. Sist. But I never said he was a hypocrite ; 
 if he had been no honester, than he was politic, I 
 had been effectually deceived ; for it was too true,
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 163 
 
 as he said, if he had talked a little religiously, nay, 
 if he had not openly professed his contempt of all 
 religion, he had cheated me, and I had never made 
 any objection. 
 
 Aunt. That's true ; you are right, cousin : but 
 how stands it now? are all the stories you told me 
 you heard at the Bath about him, true or no ? 
 
 Yo. Sist. Truly, I believe they are. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Are you but at believe still ? I would 
 have had the bottom of them all out by this time : 
 what have you been about all this while ? 
 
 Yo. Sist. Truly we have spent all the time almost 
 about the great difficulty of judging whether he is 
 sincere or a hypocrite ; and we are scarce got through 
 it yet, I assure you. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Why then I think my sister is mad : 
 what kind of confession of principles do you insist 
 on, pray ? I hope you don't set up to examine the 
 heart. 
 
 Yo. Sist. You run all upon mistakes with me, sister ; 
 the dispute lies just the other way, I am for allowing 
 him to be sincere, but he will not grant that I have 
 any reason to do so : he says that I ought to believe 
 he is a hypocrite. 
 
 Aunt. Come, niece, let us have the whole story 
 of it; w^e shall then know how to judge of it together. 
 
 Yo. Sist. With all my heart, madam : you know 
 he came to me last Tuesday night, when you first 
 left us together. After some compliments, he re- 
 peated what he had said before, that he came to ask 
 my pardon for not coming again, as he had said he 
 would : I told him I did not expect him to come 
 again ; and if I was to believe the opinion of other 
 people, I had used him so rudely, that it was not 
 reasonable to think that any gentleman that was so 
 treated, would ever have come again, unless it was 
 to affront me. He wondered, he said, who could 
 
 M 2
 
 164 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 pretend to say so ; for, he assured me, he not only 
 never said I used him ill, but never thought so, and 
 certainly I would not say so to anybody ; for he was 
 persuaded, he said, that 1 did neither do it on purpose 
 to use him ill, or believe it was ill usage. I told him 
 he did me a great deal of justice to say I did not 
 act on purpose to affront him ; but that I could not 
 but say I thought I had used him a little too rudely, 
 for all that ; and that if he thought so too, I was 
 very ready to take this opportunity to ask him 
 pardon, without so much as naming the necessity I 
 was in, on other accounts, for doing what I did. 
 
 Aunt. You were very courtly in that particular, 
 niece ; pray what did he say to it ? 
 
 Yo, Sist. He told me I had nothing to ask him 
 pardon for ; and assured me he had not been gone 
 half an hour from me, before he was convinced of 
 the justice of all I had said, and how much reason I 
 had to refuse him, upon the nicety which I had re- 
 fused him upon. He added, that he had a thousand 
 times since reproached himself with the folly of his 
 own conduct at that time, or that he could think it 
 could recommend him to any woman of virtue and 
 sense, to boast of having no thought or sense of re- 
 ligion : For, madam, says he, had you taken no no- 
 tice of it, I should of necessity have concluded, in a 
 quarter of an hour after, that you had no sense of 
 virtue or religion yourself Why, what if I had not? 
 said I ; I had been but the more suitable to you, 
 and you must have liked me the better for that. 
 He returned, No, madam, just the contrary ; for, 
 though I own I had not thought of religion myself, 
 yet, had any woman told me so of herself, I should 
 presently have said she was no match for a gentle- 
 man ; for no man can be so void of sense, as well as 
 of religion, as not to know that a woman of no re- 
 ligion is no woman fit to make a wife of: and this,
 
 REHGIOUS COURTSHIP. 165 
 
 says he, convinced me that you were in the right to 
 refuse me on that account. 
 
 Aunt. It was a very ingenuous acknowledgment, 
 I confess ; the truth of it is so convincing, that I 
 wish all the young women who have their settle- 
 ments in view, would reflect seriously on this point, 
 that however wicked men are, they are always willing 
 to have sober, religious, and virtuous wives ; and 
 'tis very rarely that the worst rake in nature, if his 
 senses are in exercise, desires to have a wife loose 
 like himself, but pray go on, niece. 
 
 Yo. Sist. He told me he was not gone a quarter 
 of an hour from me, but this reflection struck with 
 horror upon his mind : What a dreadful creature 
 am I ! sure I am a horrid, frightful wretch ! that a 
 woman of sobriety and religion was afraid to venture 
 to take me, for fear of being ruined ; and that she 
 should think she declared war against Heaven, and 
 joined herself to one of God's enemies ! He was 
 going on, but I found his speech stopped of a sudden, 
 at which I was a little surprised, and asked him if 
 he was not well : he said. Yes : and endeavoured to 
 hide the little disorder he was in, and went on. He 
 told me that I had been really very just to him, and 
 he had reason to thank me for it ; and that he had 
 desired my sister to express his mind full on that 
 account ; which he hoped she had done. I told him 
 I could not now enter upon an apology for what I 
 had said to him so long ago ; that if I had treated 
 him rudely or severely, I was very sorry ; but that 
 what I did was occasioned, as he knew very well, by 
 his making such open declarations, and such as I 
 thought he really had no occasion for, concerning 
 his aversion to, and ignorance of, all religion ; and 
 that it was really a dreadful thing to think of marry- 
 ing on such terms. He replied, that if I had said 
 less than I did, he must necessarily, when he came
 
 166 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 to his senses, have had a meaner opinion of me than 
 he had ; and that it was really the reproaches I had 
 given him, and the excellent reasons I had given him 
 for my resolutions of rejecting him, that had now 
 brought him back to me, and had made him resolve 
 to have no woman on earth but me, if I would but 
 revoke the resolutions I had taken against him : for 
 nothing less than so much religion and virtue, could 
 ever make him happy. 
 
 Aunt. If he was sincere in this, I assure you, 
 niece, it was a high compliment upon religion, as well 
 as upon your conduct. 
 
 Yo. Sist. I told him, that, as the reason I had for 
 using him so, was thus approved by himself, he 
 bound me to preserve the same resolution, on the 
 hazard of his having the less esteem for me. He 
 confessed that was very true, unless he could con- 
 vince me the cause was removed, which he saw no 
 hopes of; and that was the reason that he came to 
 visit me again, with so little encouragement, that 
 he knew not what to think of it. 
 
 Eld. Sist. What could he mean by that ? why, 
 sure, then all we have heard must be false, and he 
 is the same man as ever. 
 
 Yo. Sist. I was greatly startled at his words, and 
 looked steadily at him, but could judge nothing from 
 his countenance : but it grew late, and he took his 
 leave, falling into some other cursory talk, and left me, 
 I confess, in the greatest confusion of thought imagin- 
 able ; for I was dreadfully afraid he would declare 
 himself to have no sense of religion on his mind 
 still ; and then I was in a worse condition than at 
 first, having thus admitted a second treaty with him. 
 
 Aunt. I thought, child, you was a little perplexed 
 on Tuesday night ; but I took it to be only a little 
 thoughtfulness more than ordinary, which is usual 
 on such occasions.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 167 
 
 Vo. Sisf. When he came again the next night, he 
 made a kind of an apology for having left me in 
 more disorder than he was used to do ; For, to tell 
 you true, madam, says he, I was not able to go on 
 with what I was saying to you ; neither am I now, 
 says he, seeing I am come to wait on you, and yet 
 have effectually shut the door against myself. I 
 told him I did not perhaps rightly understand him, 
 unless he would explain himself Why, says he, I 
 have first told you sincerely how absolutely I ap- 
 prove the resolution you took against me, and yet 
 owned, and do still, that I am no way able to con- 
 vince you that the cause is removed. I told him 
 that I thought he was not just to himself; and that 
 the same thing, whatever it was, that had power to 
 convince him that I was under a necessity to refuse 
 him on that occasion, would certainly assist him to 
 remove the cause. He turned short upon me : But, 
 madam, said he, did I not make conditions with 
 you, that whenever I talked of it you should take 
 me for a hypocrite ? and did T not positively de- 
 clare to you that I would deceive you if I could. 
 
 ^Id. Sist Now I know what he meant. 
 
 Vo. Sist. Ay, so did I too ; but he run it up so 
 high against himself, that I could not answer a word, 
 unless I would have turned the tables, as it were, 
 against myself, and courted him, by telling him how 
 well I was satisfied of his sincerity ; so that, in short, 
 I was quite puzzled : for what could I say to a man, 
 that did, as it were, bid me believe him to be a hy- 
 pocrite ? 
 
 Aunt. You had a nice case before you, cousin ; 
 pray what said you to it ? 
 
 Yo. Sist. I told him, very coldly, I was under a 
 necessity of believing everything he said, because 
 he had been so sincere with me all along; and I 
 begged him, therefore, not to tell me seriously, now,
 
 168 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 that he was a hypocrite, and that the cause of my 
 refusing before to talk with him was not removed ; 
 that I hoped it was otherwise, but should despair of 
 it if it came from his own mouth ; and that if I was 
 assured from his own mouth that he came to de- 
 ceive me, he must needs know I had nothing else to 
 do but to act as I did before, which he had owned 
 I had reason for. No, madam, says he, I do not 
 say I desire to deceive you ; but I say that, having 
 told you I would, you ought to believe I design it ; 
 and I see no room to convince you I am not an hy- 
 crite, seeing T promised you I would be so ; and I 
 know not whether I dare tell you that I am not so, 
 even in the best of me. 
 
 Eld. Sist. I could have put an end to all this 
 nicety in two words. 
 
 Yo. Sist. Then you will the more easily tell me 
 how I shall do it. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Why, I would have told him that, 
 though I had not so much concern for him to busy 
 myself to inquire after his conduct, yet I had not so 
 little as not to be glad to know, by other hands than 
 his own, that he was no hypocrite, and that I re- 
 joiced, for his sake, to hear that his eyes were 
 opened to that which alone could make him the 
 happiest man alive. 
 
 Yo. Sist. Then I must at the same time have 
 told him that my scruples were all over about him ; 
 which was as much as to tell him I would have him 
 whenever he pleased to take me : but I ha'n't learned 
 that way of talking yet. 
 
 Aunt. Well, niece ; and if you had, after so long 
 acquaintance, and so much pressing, I do not think 
 you could have charged yourself with being for- 
 ward. 
 
 Yo. Sist. Well, then you will the better like what 
 has happened since, madam.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 169 
 
 Aunt. With all my heart : then pray go on, my 
 dear. 
 
 Yo. Sist. Why, madam, this took up the first 
 three or four nights of our discourse : the night be- 
 fore last he began a little more seriously, and came 
 closer to the thing itself: he told me he had made 
 himself very melancholy with me the two last times 
 he was with me ; for he thought that, instead of 
 courting me to have him, he had taken a great deal 
 of pains to court me to refuse him again. I told 
 him I thought so too ; and that I confessed I had 
 been a little concerned about it, because I could by 
 no means understand him. He told me it pro- 
 ceeded from the just reflection he made on his 
 foolish discourse two years ago, viz., that he wished 
 he had counterfeited religious discourse, and that 
 he would certainly have cheated me if he could, and 
 did not doubt but he could have done it effectually : 
 those words, he said, flew in his face when he went 
 to say anything seriously to me, and persuaded him 
 that I would believe he was only counterfeiting se- 
 rious things on purpose to deceive me. I answered, 
 he might reproach himself with those things, but I 
 did not lay any stress on them ; for I believed he 
 had too much honesty, whether it proceeded from 
 religion or no, to offer to deceive me in a thing in 
 which he owned so ingenuously I was right. Then 
 he told me, with the greatest affection in his dis- 
 course that ever I saw in my life, that he must con- 
 fess, as he said before, that my rejecting him as I 
 had done had made impressions on his mind quite 
 different from what he had before ; but that he 
 found it the hardest thing in the world to express 
 what had happened to him on that account, and the 
 thoughts of those things which had taken up his 
 mind since that ; only this he would own to me, that 
 I was in the right, that he had most notoriously ex-
 
 170 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. | 
 
 posed himself to me, and that he had perfectly the 
 same opinion now of those things which I had be- 
 fore, viz., that a religious life was the only heaven 
 upon earth ; but he could go no further, he said, 
 nor could he answer for himself how far such 
 thoughts might carry him, or express to me the 
 particulars that had lain upon his mind about them; 
 and how far what he had said would satisfy me, he 
 did not know. I told him I hoped he did not think 
 I set up for a judge of the particulars ; that my ob- 
 jection before lay against a general contempt of all 
 religion ; that it was my terror to think of marrying 
 an enemy to God, one that had no sense of the 
 common duties we all owe to Him that made us ; 
 but that I never expected a confession of faith from 
 him, or any man, in such a case. He told me he 
 thought it required more assurance than he was 
 master of to talk anything of himself that way, at 
 least till there were more intimacy between us ; 
 that he thought religious things, talked of in that 
 manner, received an injury from the very discourse, 
 and that it was next door to boasting of them, which 
 was the worst kind of hypocrisy ; and if he could 
 say no more of himself but this, he hoped I would 
 take it for a sufficient testimony of the alteration of 
 his thoughts, viz., that he loved me for the honour 
 I paid to religion, and for that steadiness which had 
 made me refuse him before. I told him I saw his 
 difficulty, and that I would abate him the trouble of 
 entering into particulars, which I found he was too 
 modest to relate, and which, however, I was not 
 quite a stranger to ; and that I desired we might 
 speak no more of a thing which I knew it was diffi- 
 cult for him to be free in. He blushed as red as fire 
 when I said I was not a stranger to the particulars, 
 which he declined to express, and said not one word 
 for a good while. 1 told him I knew it was a point
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 171 
 
 that could not come from a man's own mouth ; that I 
 did not desire it, and would make him easy, so far, 
 as to tell him I was fully satisfied he was no hypo- 
 crite, and hoped he would give himself no more 
 trouble about it. He took me in his arms, and told 
 me very affectionately that I had said that of him 
 that he would give all the world to be able to say of 
 himself; that, however, he hoped to be beholden to 
 me for more than that, and, as I had given him the 
 first view of the beauty of a religious life, he ex- 
 pected a great deal more from my assistance and 
 example in pursuing the steps of it. I told him that 
 I begged of him we might avoid all religious com- 
 pliments, for they were the oddest things in nature; 
 that he quite mistook me ; that it was not because 
 I thought myself capable of guiding in religious 
 matters, that I insisted on the necessity of not mar- 
 rying a man void of religion, but from a due sense 
 of just the contrary, viz., the want I should be in of 
 being guided and assisted in religious things upon 
 all occasions myself ; that it would be a fatal mistake 
 the other way, and greatly to my disadvantage, to 
 have him expect more from me than he would find ; 
 and that, on the contrary, I thought I had now so 
 much less religion than he, that he ought to refuse 
 me now for the same reason that I refused him be- 
 fore. 
 
 This is the sum of our affair, and thus it stands, 
 only with this addition, that he told me a very 
 pleasant story which happened at a chocolate-house 
 near the court, which is so useful, as well as divert- 
 ing, that I cannot but relate it to you. 
 
 {Here she tells them the story of the two heaus 
 and the lord discoursing aho^it the suitableness of a 
 religious life to the life of a gentleman.) 
 
 Aunt. That story is fit to be read for a lecture of
 
 172 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 instruction to all the young gentlemen of this age. 
 Well, niece, you are a happy girl. 
 
 Yo. Sist. Why, madam ? 
 
 Aunt. Only in being courted by a gentleman of 
 the greatest sincerity, modesty, and piety, that ever 
 I met with in my life. 
 
 Yo. Sist. And would you advise me, madam, to 
 have him then ? 
 
 Aunt. Ay, child, without any more difficulty, if 
 you desire to be the happiest woman alive, and an 
 example and encouragement to all the young women 
 in England, for the rejecting profane and irreligious 
 husbands. 
 
 Thus far, I think, contains all the useful part of 
 this story, only adding, that it was not long after 
 this, both the agreement and settlement being all in 
 a readiness, the father and all friends assenting, 
 they were married, and lived afterwards the happiest 
 couple that can be imagined ; having a sober, regu- 
 lar, well- governed family ; a most pleasant, com- 
 fortable, agreeable conversation with one another ; 
 suitable in temper, desires, delights ; and, in a 
 word, in everything else ; and, which made them 
 completely happy, they were exemplary in piety 
 and virtue to all that knew them.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 We have seen the happy conduct of the youngest 
 of the three daughters of the gentleman, whose 
 family this book began witli, and the comfortable 
 success of it : the second daughter, from the begin- 
 ning, acted upon other principles, or rather, indeed, 
 upon no principles at all ; yet her history may, per- 
 haps, be no less fruitful of instruction than the 
 Other, though something more tragical, as to her 
 own part of it. 
 
 She declared to her sister, as appears in the 
 beginning of her story, that she would not trouble 
 herself, when it came to her turn, what religion the 
 gentleman was of, or whether he had any religion 
 or no, if she had but a good settlement ; and now 
 we shall see her be as good as her word. 
 
 Her father, whose character I have sufficiently 
 spoken to already, having had, for many years, a 
 considerable trade into Italy, where he once lived, 
 there came an English gentleman to visit him, who 
 had been formerly contemporary with him, and had 
 long been his correspondent and factor there, viz., 
 at Leghorn ; and who, being grown very rich, was 
 come to England, resolving to settle here. There 
 were some accounts, it seems, depending between 
 them, which they had appointed a day to settle and 
 balance, in order to exchange releases ; which
 
 174 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 being all finished in the morning, the father of 
 these ladies takes his factor into his coach, and 
 carries him home to dinner with him, where the 
 old gentleman entertained him very handsomely, 
 and where he had an opportunity to see the two 
 maiden daughters ; for the youngest, who had been 
 married some time, was gone into Hampshire to 
 her country seat with her husband. 
 
 This Leghorn merchant no sooner saw and con- 
 versed a little with the ladies, but he took a fancy 
 to the youngest, and from that time resolved to 
 make her his wife. It was not long before he let 
 them know his mind ; and, having made very hand- 
 some proposals to her father, he, the father, received 
 him with a frankness suitable to their long intimacy 
 and acquaintance, and told him, with all his heart, 
 if his daughter and he could agree. 
 
 Before I bring them together, it is proper, to the 
 relish of the story, to take a little notice of the cha- 
 racters of the two young persons, of whose story we 
 ought to have a general idea, that we may not be 
 left to gather it up slowly among the particulars. 
 
 The young lady was very sober, virtuous to the 
 nicest degree, extremely well-bred, and wonderfully 
 good-humoured ; she was likewise a very lovely, 
 beautiful person, the handsomest of the three 
 sisters, beyond all comparison : as to religion, she 
 had a very good foundation of knowledge, and had 
 done nothing to make it be supposed she was not 
 truly religious in practice ; but she was not alto- 
 gether so grave and serious as her eldest sister; 
 much less was she so devout and strict as her 
 younger sister that was married, as might be ob- 
 served from what passed between them at first : 
 her temper was sprightly and gay ; and, though she 
 governed herself so, that she gave every one room 
 to see that she was one that had a true sense of re-
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. iTo 
 
 ligion at bottom, and a fund of good principles and 
 good notions in her mind, yet she was young and 
 merry, and did not tie herself up so severely in such 
 things as her sisters had done ; which, though it 
 was no part of her happiness in the affair before 
 her, yet it rendered her very agreeable to her 
 father ; and particularly, it made the aifair with 
 this gentleman much easier to her father, and he 
 had much less trouble with her than he had with 
 her two sisters. 
 
 The gentleman was, as I have observed, an 
 Italian merchant, a very handsome, agreeable 
 person, perfectly well-bred, having lived abroad, 
 and seen a great deal of the world : he was also a 
 man of excellent parts and sense, talked admirably 
 well, almost of everything that came in his way, 
 spoke several languages, and, in short, was not a 
 complete-bred merchant only, but much of a gen- 
 tleman ; and to all this was to be added, that he 
 was very sober, grave, and oftentimes, as occasion 
 offered, his discourse upon religious affairs dis- 
 covered him to be very serious and religious. As 
 to his estate, it was not very well only, but extra- 
 ordinary; he was, indeed, a little too old, having 
 lived abroad about twenty-two years, and was 
 about so much above twenty, which was the age of 
 the lady. However, as this was an advantage in 
 many other ways, as in his judgment and expe- 
 rience in the world, the father made no scruple at 
 all of it, nor did his daughter inquire much after 
 it. 
 
 In a word, having been introduced to the young 
 lady, she must have been a woman of much more 
 nicety and scruple than she professed herself to be, 
 if she had disliked anything in his person or cir- 
 cumstances ; and therefore having kept her company 
 for some weeks, things began to draw towards a close,
 
 176 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 when one evening, after the gentleman had been 
 with her, and was gone away, her eldest sister and 
 she happened to meet ; and the following dialogue 
 between them may further explain the case. 
 
 DIALOGUE I. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Well, sister, how do you go on ? 
 When are we to go and buy wedding-clothes ? 
 
 Sist, Nay, I don't know ; e'en when you will,^ I 
 think : I don't know what we stay for, not I. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Prythee let's have done with it then ; 
 I want to call him brother ; then I can talk freely 
 to him. 
 
 Sist. Why you may call him brother now, can't 
 you ? You see he calls you sister already, as natur- 
 ally as if we were all of a breed. 
 
 Eld. Sist. x\y, so did somebody else, you know, 
 and yet made a two-year's piece of work of it after- 
 wards for all that. 
 
 {She means the gentleman that courted the third 
 sister.) 
 
 Sist. Yes, yes, I remember it ; but I'll assure you 
 I am none of those ; I'll either make an end of it 
 one way, or make an end of it another way, in less 
 than so many months. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Perhaps your objections are not so just 
 as hers. 
 
 Sist. I don't enter into her scruples, 1 assure 
 you. 
 
 Eld. Sist. I hope you have not her occasion. 
 
 Sist. Nay, I don't know what occasion she had, 
 not I. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Nay, hold, sister ; don't say so, neither ; 
 without doubt her occasion was very just ; and you 
 
 ii
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 177 
 
 have the same obligation upon you, but I hope you 
 have not the same occasion. 
 
 SisL I know not what you mean by obligation ; 
 I have no obligation at all upon me, as I know of. 
 
 Eld. Sisf. Why do you say so, sister ? I mean the 
 obligation which is upon us all from the charge my 
 mother gave us upon her death-bed, about our mar- 
 rying religious husbands. 
 
 Sist. I look upon what my mother said to be good 
 counsel, which we should give its due weight to ; 
 but I do not take it to be a command that binds me 
 absolutely in duty to my mother's words : duty cer- 
 tainly ends, when death separates. 
 
 £ld. Stst. I know not whether it does or no, 
 sister. 
 
 Sist. I think you are too superstitious that way, 
 sister. 
 
 Eld. Sisf. Well, but suppose it to be but as 
 advice, yet it has a double force with it : first, as it 
 came from a tender, dear, and most affectionate 
 mother, who not only most passionately loved us, 
 but had an excellent judgment to direct her to give 
 us the best counsel : and, secondly, as our own 
 judgment and conscience must testify with her, that 
 what she enjoined us to observe, is the most reason- 
 able and necessary thing for us to do, that can be 
 imagined for our own advantage, and as well for our 
 happiness here as hereafter. 
 
 Sist. You lay a greater stress upon it than I do, 
 I confess : if my mother had been alive indeed, I 
 should have thought myself obliged to be guided 
 by her directions, and her injunctions would have 
 been positive commands ; but then she would have 
 been able to judge of particular circumstances, and 
 would have given her advice accordingly. 
 
 Eld. Sist. But her advice to us was therefore 
 R. c. N
 
 178 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 suited to her present state of absence, and went no 
 further than to a case described by its own circum- 
 stances, and which nothing can alter ; because the 
 obligation supposes the circumstance, and where 
 the circumstance is not, the obligation ceases. 
 
 Sist. You talk so learnedly, I want an explanation. 
 
 Eld. Sist. No, sister, you don't want an explana- 
 tion, I am sure ; but you are disposed to lay it all 
 aside, as a thing you have no need of; however, I'll 
 explain myself in a word speaking : our mother 
 warned us against marrying men of no religion, that 
 is, men that made no profession of a reverence to 
 God and his worship ; this want of a religious pro- 
 fession is the circumstance which I speak of; if 
 the circumstance does not appear, the advice 
 ceases ; for our mother knew we could not judge of 
 sincerity. 
 
 Sist. Well ; so then if a man tells me he is re- 
 ligious, it is well enough, whether he speaks truth 
 or no. 
 
 Eld. Sist. What need we talk of this? I hope 
 you have an assurance of the contrary in Mr. . 
 
 Sist. No, not I, indeed ; what assurance can I 
 have ? He seems to be a sober man, that's all I 
 know of it. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Well, and I would know more of it, 
 however, if I were you. 
 
 Sist. Why I do know something more of it too, 
 now I think of it ; for we were talking of such 
 things one night, when he happened to mention sir 
 
 Robert , and he spoke of him with a great deal 
 
 of indignation ; he said he was a horrid atheistical 
 wretch, and that he could not bear his company ; 
 for he was always making a jest of sacred things, 
 bantering all religion in such a manner, that no 
 sober mind could abide it without horror. 
 
 ^
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 179 
 
 Eld. Sist. Well, there's something in that, I 
 assure you. 
 
 Sist. Why I take it to be a plain declaration 
 that he has a just reverence for religion, as my 
 sister took the contrary in her lover for a declaration 
 of his having no religion at all. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Nay, he told her he had not, in so 
 many words, and that he had not troubled his head 
 about it, and did not intend to do it. 
 
 Sist. Well then, and this gentleman has told me 
 he has ; for he owns he has so much regard for re- 
 ligion, that he cannot hear it ridiculed and bantered 
 without horror. 
 
 Eld. Sist. That is something, I confess, in general: 
 but — 
 
 Sist. But what ? What would you have me do ? 
 Must I examine his principles and opinion ? Shall 
 I ask him to say his catechism ? If I should talk 
 on that fashion to him now, what kind of a cateche- 
 tical wife will he think I shall make ? He'll think 
 I shall be a schoolmistress rather than a wife. 
 
 Eld. Sist. No, no ; though you are so pert with 
 your sister, forsooth, you need not be so with him, 
 I hope ; nor need 1 tell you how to manage such a 
 point : but I warrant you I would find it out, what 
 his opinion was, one way or another ; why he may 
 be a papist for aught you know yet of him ; some 
 of them are very religious in their way, and speak 
 very reverently and seriously of religion in general. 
 
 Sist. Let him be a papist and he will. I am sure 
 I can never ask him such a question ; but, however, 
 I am pretty well satisfied of that too ; for I heard 
 him say once, he had been at church: and another 
 time accidentally speaking about religion, he de- 
 clared he was a member of the church of England, 
 as by law established. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Well, you are an easy lady ; a little 
 
 n2
 
 180 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 matter satisfies you : I should presently have said, 
 I hope, sir, you mean the protestant church of 
 England : why do you not imagine the Roman 
 catholics think the popish church is the only church 
 of England that is established by law ? 
 
 Sist. Sure, sister, you take all the world to be 
 hypocrites and cheats ; I never can suspect any 
 gentleman, that bears the character of an honest 
 man, would set up to impose upon me with such 
 equivocal speeches; why I never heard such a vile 
 distinction in my life. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Have you not ? Why then I have : I 
 have heard, that in king Charles the Second's time, 
 people in general were deluded with that very ex- 
 pression in all their public speeches, proclamations, 
 declarations, &c., promising always to preserve and 
 maintain the church of England, as established by 
 law ; and yet all that while they meaat the popish 
 church. 
 
 Sist. These are remote things, sister ; for my 
 part, I have no mistrust ; I am honest myself, and I 
 suspect nobody. 
 
 Eld. Sist. It is a thing of moment, sister ; I 
 would be sure. 
 
 Sist. Not I ; I have no room to suspect. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Then you do not answer the obligation 
 you were under to my mother's desire. 
 
 Sist. Yes, I do ; for I think I have good reason 
 to believe him a very serious, religious gentleman. 
 
 Eld. Sist. But you know my mother engaged us 
 to examine particulars, and not to marry any man, 
 how religious soever he seemed also, unless he was 
 of the same opinion in religion with ourselves. 
 
 Sist. In that I think my mother went too far, 
 sister. 
 
 Eld. Sist. My mother gave us a great many ex- 
 amples of the misery that has followedan the rela-
 
 RELIGIOtJS COURTSHIP. 181 
 
 tion of husband and wife, by reason only of 
 differences in opinion. 
 
 Sist. It must be then where there was but little 
 religion on either side. 
 
 Eld. Sist. I do not know that neither ; you and 
 I know some families, more than one or two, where 
 they are all at daggers-drawn about opinion, and 
 the families are ruined as to their peace, and yet 
 both are very religious too, nay, zealous in their 
 way : and the more the zeal, the more the strife. 
 
 Sist. There may be zeal, but there is no charity 
 then : and what's any religion without charity ? 
 
 Eld. Sist. Well, but because charity does not al- 
 ways keep pace with religion, and every one is apt 
 to think themselves in the right, and to reproach 
 the sincerity of those that differ from them ; there- 
 fore our mother earnestly pressed us to make that 
 point sure before we fixed our choice for our lives. 
 
 Sist. It is a fine thing to talk of, but hard to be 
 followed : what have I to do with his opinion ? and 
 what can I say to him, if he tells me he is of one 
 opinion, and should be of another ? You, nor no 
 young body alive, can prevent being imposed upon, 
 if a man finds it for his purpose to deceive us. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Well, sister, yoa trample upon all 
 caution ; you are one of them that seem perfectly 
 indifferent whether you are deceived or no. 
 
 Sist. No, sister, 1 am not willing to be deceived, 
 you see ; I have had a general discovery of his 
 being a man religiously inclined, that has a reverence 
 for the worship of God, and the being of God ; nay, 
 you cannot but remember how the other night at 
 supper he discoursed very gravely, and I assure 
 you, to me it was very agreeable, about the men of 
 the town first pretending to be atheists, and to deny 
 the being of a God, and the next minute profanely 
 swearing by his name.
 
 182 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Eld. Sist. All this is true, and clears you from 
 the first scruple ; so far, I may grant, you are within 
 my mother's first injunction, not to marry a man 
 that does not profess to be religious in general ; but 
 that is but one part : what say you to the other, 
 not to marry any man, however professing himself 
 to be religious, that is not of the same opinion with 
 yourself? 
 
 Sist. You will carry everything up to the extre- 
 mity ; but, however, 1 have a way for that too ; and 
 you shall not charge me with slighting my mother's 
 advice. 
 
 Eld. Sist. What way have you got ? I doubt 'tis 
 but an odd one. 
 
 Sist. Why, if he will not be of my opinion, I'll be 
 of his opinion ; and so we will agree one way, if we 
 can't t'other. 
 
 Eld. Sist. That's boldly said, and, I must own to 
 you, signifies, you are yet to choose in your own 
 opinion : pray, what if he should be a Roman ca- 
 tholic, as I hinted before? you know he has lived 
 in Italy. 
 
 Sist. Well, if he should be a Christian catholic, I 
 am a catholic Christian : so we need not fall out for 
 all that. 
 
 Eld. Sist. I persuade myself you are not so indif- 
 ferent as you make yourself, or else (which I hope 
 rather) you are jesting with me, or you talk this 
 upon a supposition that you are sure he is a 
 protestant. 
 
 Sist. Well, you are in the right there too ; I 
 cannot entertain such thoughts of him ; besides, my 
 father told me he was a protestant. 
 
 Eld. Sist. It is our misfortune, sister, that my 
 father does not much concern himself about those 
 things ; he leaves us to our fate. 
 
 Sist. And is that our misfortune, say you ? I do
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 183 
 
 not see it, I confess ; for I think 'tis our business to 
 choose for ourselves : and I observe, where fathers 
 ar3 so very strait-laced, and confine their children 
 tc such and such particulars in the husbands or wives 
 ttey shall choose, their children generally choose 
 without much regard to those injunctions, or else 
 f?y directly in the face of them, and go quite contrary. 
 
 Eld. Sist. You argue, sister, from the practice to 
 tie duty, as if, because children do not regard the 
 care and concern of their parents in their marriages, 
 therefore they ought to do so ; and that it was not 
 the duty of parents to direct them, or to concern 
 tiemselves about it. 
 
 Sist. I don't inquire what is the duty of parents ; 
 . am speaking of what is the practice of children. 
 
 Eld. Sist. But you do not justify that practice, I 
 lope? 
 
 Sist. I think, take one time with another, children 
 to as well, when they trust to their own directions, 
 ' mean when they choose with judgment : pray 
 7hat would become of us, if we were just to follow 
 lur father's directions ? You know he would direct 
 IS to take the first that comes, if he liked but the 
 ettlement. 
 
 Eld. Sist. That's a wrong way of arguing, sister, 
 hat, because our father neglects it, therefore chil- 
 Iren are not the better for such parents as do their 
 luty, and that show a just concern for the religious 
 lappiness of their children, in settling them in the 
 ivorld. 
 
 Sist. I do not see much difference, I say ; but 
 sometimes one do as well as the other. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Yes, there is this difference, sister, 
 that where the parents act right, the children are 
 seldom ruined, unless it be by their own wilful ob- 
 stinacy. 
 
 Sist. And sometimes children are ruined, let the
 
 184 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 parents do their best ; nay, sometimes the parents 
 themselves know not what to direct. 
 
 Eld. Sist. You may as well say, that, because 
 doctors die, nobody should take physic. 
 
 Sist. Every one has eyes to choose for them- 
 selves ; I don't think the proverb has any weight in 
 this case, that love is blind ; folks may easily ses 
 the difference between a religious man and aj 
 atheist, without their parents. 
 
 Eld. Sist. But it is a matter of such weight, ani 
 so irrecoverable when done, that we ought to se? 
 with as many eyes as we can ; and a careful, reli- 
 gious parent, is a good scout to look out for us, t 
 good pilot to steer us, and a good counsellor to ad- 
 vise us. 
 
 Sist. I don't see the want of it, perhaps, so mucl 
 as you do ; I see, sometimes, the very mistake o' 
 the parents is the cause of the ruin of the chil 
 dren. 
 
 Eld. Sist. I must confess I do see the want of it 
 and I think it is a sad thing to be left so as we are 
 without the guide of our parents, for all that ; an( 
 if we, in particular, should be rained by it, ouj 
 father would have small satisfaction in his own cou' 
 duct : 'tis such management makes children slight 
 their father's directions as they do. 
 
 Sist. Well, our father does kind things for us an^ 
 other way, however. 
 
 Eld. Sist. I don't desire to reflect upon my father 
 but if his care was as much employed in choosing 
 religious husbands for us, (since he will have uS 
 marry,) as it is in getting portions for us, we shoul(^ 
 find the advantage of it much more to his future 
 satisfaction, and our own. 
 
 Sist. We must take the more care of it our-l 
 selves. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Why, that's the point I am upon : I
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 185 
 
 wish you would do so then, sister ; for it is your 
 case that I am upon. 
 
 Sist. I have done it, I think : I see no room to 
 object. 
 
 Eld. Sist I can say no more, sister ; you are re- 
 solved, I see, and must go on ; but you will buy 
 your experience at a terrible price ; and if, upon 
 the trial, you should be mistaken, you will think of 
 this discourse hereafter. 
 
 Sist. What would you have me do ? 
 
 Eld. Sist. Do ! I would enter into a serious dis- 
 course of religious matters with him ; I would know 
 how we were to live together, whether as heathens 
 or as Christians ; I would find out his principles, if 
 he has any, or find out that he has none : this is not 
 catechising him, nor is there anything indecent in 
 it. You are not ashamed to inquire into his estate, 
 and make provision for yourself out of it by a good 
 jointure ; and will you be ashamed to inquire after 
 that which is often thousand times the consequence? 
 sure you can never go on hoodwinked at all hazards 
 thus, in that part that is for the happiness of your 
 life, soul and body ; besides, had you not our sister's 
 example before you ? 
 
 Sist. Why, I tell you, it is clear to me that he is 
 a man that has a sense of religion upon his mind ; I 
 gave you an instance of it in his detestation of sir 
 Robert and his practices : if my sister could have 
 had but so much satisfaction as that, she would 
 never have refused my brother. 
 
 Eld. Sist. You wrong my sister, I assure you ; 
 she did not come so far, indeed, because she came 
 to a clear discovery that he had no religion at all, 
 which was the first point ; but I can assure you, if 
 she had got over that point she would have inquired 
 further : for 'tis a poor satisfaction that is founded 
 upon negative religion only.
 
 186 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Sist. If we expect to search into positives, as the 
 world goes now, I think we put a hardship upon 
 ourselves that we are not obliged to. 
 
 JEld. Sist. But certainly it is our business to do 
 it, if we expect to live happily ; for there are a great 
 many men, now-a-days, that are not atheists, and 
 that abhor bantering of religion, or making a jest of 
 sacred things, and yet have nothing at all in them 
 that is fit to be called religion. 
 
 Sist. Well, I am not to examine the inside : a 
 small deal of hypocrisy will conceal the heart ; if he 
 be not a religious man, the worst will be his own, I 
 cannot find it out. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Dear sister, I should not say so much, 
 but that methinks you do not attempt to find it out; 
 you do not inquire after it ; I do not find you have 
 exchanged six words upon the subject. 
 
 Sist. Why, I tell you, what he said about sir 
 Robert gave me a good impression of him. 
 
 £ld. Sist. O sister ! you are soon satisfied ; you 
 would not be so easy in the matter of his estate ; it 
 seems you will trust your soul upon lighter security 
 than you will your portion. 
 
 Sist. How do you mean ? 
 
 JEld. Sist. Why, sister, you won't take it upon his 
 word that he has an estate, or that you shall be pro- 
 vided for, but you must have his estate appear, your 
 part be settled, and the land bound to you ; it is 
 not enough for him to say, I have such and such a 
 revenue by the year, and you shall have such a part 
 of it if I die before you ; but you will have it 
 under hand and seal, so that he shall not be able to 
 go back. 
 
 Sist. Well, and should I not do so ? 
 
 £ld. Sist. Yes, yes ; but I allude only to it, and 
 observe how less anxious you are, how much easier 
 satisfied, how sooner secure, about the main article
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 187 
 
 that constitutes the happiness of your life and of 
 your family, if ever you have one, than about your 
 estate. 
 
 Sisf. You run this matter up to a strange height, 
 sister, as if all my felicity consisted in this one 
 question, whether my husband be a religious man 
 or no ? nay, as if it consisted in his being of the 
 same opinion in religion as I am of: as if I could 
 not be religious though my husband was not so ; or, 
 in a word, as if I could not go to heaven without my 
 husband. 
 
 JEld. Sist. No, sister ; it is you that run it too 
 high : I do not say you cannot go to heaven without 
 your husband, or you cannot be religious without 
 your husband ; but I do say you cannot go com- 
 fortably through the journey thither without him, 
 or he without you. A woman is to be a helpmate, 
 and a man is to be the same : now a husband will 
 be a sorry help to a wife, if he is not a help in the 
 religious part of her life ; and a sorry help, indeed, 
 in the religious part, if he has no sense of it him- 
 self. 
 
 Sist. But I tell you he has a sense of it, and an 
 affection to it. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Well, but it will hold in the other part 
 of the question too : suppose he has ; yet if his 
 sense of religion is not the same with, or agreeable 
 to, your sense of it, if he thinks you are going the 
 wrong way, and you think he is going the wrong 
 way, one pulls this way, and the other pulls that 
 way, in religion ; what will this come to in the 
 family, sister ? have you considered that ? 
 
 Sist. Yes, yes, I have considered it very well. 
 
 JEld. Sist. I doubt it, sister ; I doubt you have 
 only considered of it so as to resolve not to consider 
 of it. 
 
 Sist. I have considered it so far as to see that
 
 188 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 I can do nothing in it any farther ; I cannot enter 
 into a debate about principles ; tell him what my 
 opinion is, and ask him what his opinion is, and try 
 beforehand whether they agree or no ; I tell you I 
 don't think 'tis my business, any more than the 
 talking to him of our settlement ; that's the father's 
 part to do : sure my father won't bring an heathen 
 to me ! 
 
 Eld. Sist. It is true, and that's our misery, that, 
 as I said before, we have not a father to concern 
 himself in that part for us ; but I do not think it is 
 such an improper thing for you to do. Sure, I 
 could some way or other bring it in, that I would 
 make some guess at him : why you have never 
 offered at it in the least, neither has he shown you 
 anything of it ; I do not so much as find that he has 
 ever gone to church with us since he has appeared 
 here so publicly. 
 
 Sist. Why no, that's true ; and I wondered he 
 did not, indeed, especially last Sunday, when he 
 dined with us ; but he made an excuse that I 
 thought was sufficient. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Well ; and would not I have laughed 
 at him at night, and asked him if ever he used to 
 go to church ? or whether he went to church that 
 Sunday, or no ? 
 
 Sist. Why so I did ; and he told me he was 
 obliged to go that day to wait upon the marquis de 
 Monteleon, the Spanish ambassador. 
 
 Eld. Sist. The Spanish ambassador ! why then 
 he was obliged to go to the popish chapel with him 
 too ; for the ambassador never fails at that time of 
 day. I'll lay an hundred pounds he went to mass 
 with him : there's a clue for you, find out that now, 
 and your business is done. 
 
 Sist. Dear sister, you are strangely possessed 
 with Mr. 's being a papist; have you any
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 189 
 
 particular notion of it? you perfectly fright me 
 about it. 
 
 Eld. Sist. No, indeed, I must confess I have not 
 the least ground for it ; I won't do him so much in- 
 justice ; but if I were in your case, I would be 
 satisfied about it ; I would ask him downright in so 
 many words. 
 
 Sist. I would not ask him such a question for an 
 hundred pounds. 
 
 Eld. Sist. And I would not marry him, without 
 asking him, for ten thousand. 
 
 Sist. Why if I should, and he were really a 
 papist, do you think he would be such a fool to 
 tell me ? 
 
 Eld. Sist. Perhaps he may be so honest as not 
 to deny what he is not ashamed of. 
 
 Sist. I should hate him the moment he confessed 
 it, not for being a papist, but for showing he had so 
 little concern for me, as to venture to own it. 
 
 Eld. Sist. So that you think he ought rather 
 to deny his religion, and disown his principles, 
 than venture your displeasure ? 
 
 Sist. I should think he was very indifferent, 
 whether I was displeased or no, or that he pre- 
 sumed upon my being so engaged to him that I 
 could not go off; either of which I should take 
 for an unsufferable insolence. 
 
 Eld. Sist. So you would have him conceal his 
 principles, and discover them when you could not 
 help yourself; pray which would be the greater 
 insult ? 
 
 Sist. You strive to push me into a strait, but 
 I have a medium again that delivers me from the 
 necessity on either side, and that is, to shake off 
 the suspicion ; and seeing you have no real ground 
 for it, I cannot see why I should terrify myself with 
 a mere jealousy.
 
 190 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Eld. Sist. I own I have no ground to suppose ^ 
 him a papist ; but I would never marry any man in \ 
 the world without knowing what his principles 
 are; 'tis no satisfaction to me, to say he's not an 
 atheist, he is not a profane despiser of religion. 
 Negatives are a poor foundation, sister, to go upon 
 in a case of such consequence ; if he is of any reli- 
 gion he should tell it me, or I would have nothing 
 to say to him. 
 
 Sist. Why, I told you, he said in particular, 
 that he was of the Church of England, as by law 
 established. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Why first, dear sister, I told you that's 
 nothing but what any papist may say, even without 
 a dispensation ; but, however, it seems he did 
 not say that, but in a way of discourse to other 
 people ; he did not say so seriously, in answer to 
 any inquiry of yours, or to give you satisfaction. 
 
 Sist. No, that's true ; I have not desired any 
 satisfaction of him ; for I take those casual, occa- 
 sional discoveries of himself, to have more of nature 
 in them, and to be less liable to suspicion, than a 
 formal, studied answer, to a jealous or doubting 
 question ; and I have many reasons for my opinion 
 too. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Why that may be true ; but I cannot 
 think that such occasional, cursory speeches, can 
 have solid foundation enough to satisfy you in a 
 thing of such moment ; and I think I have the 
 testimony of the fathers of our Reformation on my 
 side, who, without doubt, saw in it the great weight 
 that lies on this part, viz., of the advantage and 
 necessity that there is, that husband and wife should 
 be of the same opinion in religion one with an- 
 other; when they appointed, with the office of matri- 
 mony, that the communion be given to the married 
 couple at every wedding; that it might appear
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 191 
 
 not only that they both made a profession of the 
 Christian religion, but that they both agreed in the 
 profession of the same principles, and joined to- 
 gether in the same communion with the reformed 
 protestant churches, and with one another. And I 
 think this is enough to convince you of the justice 
 of our mother's injunctions, that we should not 
 marry any man, how religious soever he was, unless 
 he was of the same opinion in religion with our- 
 selves ; or, as I observed above, that, as was the 
 custom, the man and the wife might communicate 
 together. 
 
 Sist. I take that to be done principally to pre- 
 vent protestants marrying with papists, and to dis- 
 cover the fraud, if there was any ; you see that 
 practice is left off now. 
 
 Eld. Sist. I know it is left off, since other and 
 lesser differences among protestants have made 
 mutual communion more difficult ; but I think the 
 reason of the thing remains, viz., that every 
 couple should know what communion they are of, 
 and should be always, if possible, sincere without 
 constraint, of the same communion with one an- 
 other. 
 
 Sist. I rather think 'tis left off because it is not 
 thought to be of so much moment as they thought it 
 of then. 
 
 Eld. Sist. That is, then, because religion itself is 
 less in fashion than it used to be, which, indeed, is 
 too true ; also marriages are now wholly taken up 
 with mirth and gay things ; but in those days ma- 
 trimony seems to have been understood, as it really 
 is in itself, a solemn and serious thing ; not to 
 be ventured on rashly, considered of slightly, or per- 
 formed with levity and looseness : 'tis a transaction 
 of the greatest weight, attended with circumstances
 
 192 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 of the greatest importance, and consequences of the ' 
 utmost concern to our welfare or misery. The 
 happiness of life, the prosperity of families, and, 
 indeed, the interest of the soul, is exceedingly de- 
 pendent upon the good or bad conduct of both 
 parties in this great affair ; and to run headlong 
 upon it, is rightly compared to a horse rushing into 
 the battle, and argues a miserable thoughtlessness 
 of what is before us. 
 
 Sist. Dear sister, you terrify me with talking 
 thus. What is it you would have me do ? 
 
 £ld. Sist. 1 would have you take some measures, 
 such as opportunity will not fail, in your conversa- 
 tion with this gentleman, to present you with, that 
 you may know not only negatively that he is no 
 hater and despiser of God and religion, but posi- 
 tively what his principles in religion are ; you may 
 go as far further as you see room for it, but less 
 than this you can never be satisfied with ; and can 
 never answer it to God, to yourself, your mother's 
 dying injunctions, nor to your children, if you 
 should have any, to venture upon marrying him 
 without it. 
 
 Sist. If Mr. heard your discourse, he 
 
 would think you were very much his enemy. 
 
 JEld. Sist. If he was in his senses, he would think 
 me very much his friend. 
 
 Sist. No, no, quite the contrary, I assure you. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Pray, my dear, let me ask you one 
 question ; for I must own to you this is one of my 
 great suspicions ; Has he inquired nothing after 
 your religion, the profession you make, or the opi- 
 nion you are of? Has he asked you no question 
 about that neither ? 
 
 Sist. No, not a word ; he knows better ; he knows 
 I should give him but a short answer, if he should
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 193 
 
 ask me anything about ray religion. What do you 
 think I'll be catechised already ? No, no : it is not 
 come to that neither. 
 
 Eld. Sist. This is one of the strongest grounds of 
 suspicion to me, and assures me that he has very 
 little regard to religion in general; that he can 
 pretend to marry you, and know nothing whether 
 you are a heathen or a Christian, an atheist or relir 
 gious person, a papist or a protestant; the man can 
 have no great value for religion that is so little con- 
 cerned whether his wife has any or no ; for I take 
 the thing to weigh as much on one side as on the 
 other, where there is any serious consideration at 
 bottom. 
 
 Sist. Indeed we have had no discourse about 
 it. 
 
 Eld. Sist. It seems you are pretty well agreed ; 
 that is to say, that neither of you trouble your 
 heads about it : I must confess, I think it will be a 
 dreadful match. 
 
 Sist. Why so ? I tell you I have a way to pre- 
 vent all the mischief you fear, and that is, as I told 
 you before, I am resolved we will agree ; for if he 
 is not of my opinion, I will be of his opinion, and so 
 we will never have any strife. 
 
 Eld. Sist. But suppose you cannot do this ; for 
 I take all that for loose talk: for example, suppose 
 he should be a papist. 
 
 Sist. I won't so much as suppose such a thing : I 
 wonder you can suggest it of him. 
 
 Eld. Sist. You seem to be very much in the 
 fashion of our city ladies, sister ; I am sorry for it. 
 
 Sist. What fashion's that, sister ? 
 
 Eld. Sist. Why, of reserving their choice of prin- 
 ciples, till they see what principles their husbands 
 shall be of. 
 
 Sist. And is it not a very obliging custom, sister, 
 R. c. o
 
 194 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 in young ladies ; I think the gentlemen owe them a 
 great deal for so much complaisance. 
 
 Eld. Sist. There seems to be something of fore- 
 cast in it, I confess, viz., that they may be in a pos- 
 ture to take anything that offers ; but there is no- 
 thing of serious religion in it. 
 
 Sist. Well, there is a great deal of good humour 
 in it ; and it takes off the occasions of religious dis- 
 putes afterward, which I take to be the worst kind 
 of family breaches. 
 
 £ld. Sist. But is not a concurrence of principles 
 beforehand a much better way, especially consider- 
 ing that the inquiry is made during a state of dis- 
 tance, and while there is power of preventing the 
 mischiefs of being unequally yoked ? 
 
 Sist. Well, I am persuaded there never was 
 such a thing done, except by my stiff, formal sister : 
 Did ever a young gentleman, when he came to 
 court his mistress, examine her, to know her prin- 
 ciples, and ask her what religion she was of? Or 
 did ever young lady, when she was courted by any 
 gentleman, set up to catechise him upon the 
 articles of his creed, except, as I say, my surly 
 sister ? 
 
 JEld. Sist. Let me answer that question with a 
 question, sister : Did ever a young lady, that had 
 any regard to religion, and the future happiness of 
 her life, suffer herself to be courted two months by 
 a strange person coming out of Italy, from the very 
 bowels of superstition, and the very kingdom of 
 popery, and go on with him even to drawing of 
 writings, and never know what religion he was of, 
 or whether he had any religion or no ; except 
 that she had heard by accident that he was not an 
 atheist ? 
 
 Sist. Well, I must take him for better and for 
 worse, you know ; I'll make the best of him I can.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 195 
 
 Eld. Sist. I am very sorry that I can't prevail 
 with you to prevent your own misfortunes, when it 
 is so easy to be done. 
 
 Sist. You propose what I cannot so much as 
 mention to him ; I tell you it would be the rudest 
 thing ; I'm sure if he should do so to me, I should 
 spit in his face, and bid him go and look for 
 one that was religious enough for him ; sure, never 
 any such thing was done in the world ! 
 
 Eld. Sist. I wonder you can talk so, sister ! Do 
 
 you not remember the passages about Mr. , 
 
 when he courted my cousin ? Did he not 
 
 enter into a most serious, pretty discourse with her, 
 about religion, when we were all at table with 
 them ? And don't you remember we all said, ay 
 and you too, sister, when you heard it, that he did 
 it with so much modesty, and so handsomely, that 
 nothing could be more becoming ? And did not you, 
 as well as I, call her a thousand fools for pretending 
 to be disgusted at it. 
 
 Sist. But she took ill his public manner of doing 
 it, which I think was wrong too. 
 
 Eld. Sist. But I find you don't know or don't re- 
 member the rest of the story ; she exposed herself 
 to the last degree by resenting it: the case was 
 this : the gentleman had courted her some weeks, 
 and liked her, nay, loved her very well, but was 
 greatly perplexed to find out what taste of religion 
 his mistress had ; he was loath to fall point-blank 
 upon her with the question, just as you say, in 
 your case, yet he was not willing to be satisfied 
 with a second-hand relation neither ; but one day 
 when we were all together at my cousin's, the 
 young gentleman supped there, and after supper 
 her mother and he and I entering into a discourse 
 together of several matters, at last we began to talk 
 of religion, and particularly of religious matches, 
 
 o2
 
 196 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. | 
 
 when we were agreeably surprised to hear him talk 
 for near half an hour wholly upon that subject ; you 
 were not there just when he talked of it, but we all 
 gave you an account of it. 
 
 Sist. I was not there ; I supped at London that 
 night, and came to you the next day, I suppose. 
 
 £ld. Sist. You did so ; but it would have 
 pleased you to have heard him talk ; he began with 
 the meaning and nature of religion, how it con- 
 sisted chiefly in natural duties, the effects of the 
 knowledge and acknowledgment of a God govern- 
 ing the world, to whom we owed the homage of our 
 lives, and of all we enjoyed, and must account for 
 the use or abuse of them : then he observed how 
 pleasant and agreeable a religious life was, how it 
 was religion alone that made life happy, families 
 pleasant, society agreeable, and relations comfort- 
 able ; how miserably some families were brought up 
 for want of it ; how beautiful it was to see an unity 
 between relations in matters of that nature, and 
 how dreadful the strife was in families where it was 
 otherwise. 
 
 Sist. Where was she all the while ? 
 Eld. Sist. She sat just by him, and he held her 
 by the hand all the while : he went on then to tell 
 us a great many pleasant stories of families that he 
 had known : how in some the husband was re- 
 ligious, and the wife atheistic and profane ; and in 
 others the wife was religious, and the husband 
 rakish, loose, and profligate ; and how miserable the 
 one made the life of the other. Then he gave him- 
 self a loose to talk of the constant, never-failing fe- 
 licity of families where there was a harmOny in re- 
 ligious things between husband and wife ; and then 
 to try her, I suppose, or perhaps to prevent her 
 thinking he pointed his discourse at her, he turned 
 to her, and smiling, My dear, says he, if there be
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 197 
 
 any defect, on that account, between you and I, 
 'twill be on my side ; but I hope to be helped for- 
 ward by you. 
 
 SisL That was a kind of a wheedle, rather than a 
 serious turn in his talk ; and I suppose she took it 
 so. 
 
 Eld. Sist. No, she took it otherwise, I assure 
 you ; for he might easily see she was not pleased : 
 however, he went on, and told us a long story of a 
 couple that were married, and were both very re- 
 ligious, and yet, said he, they never had any hap- 
 piness, any agreement, or any practical religion in 
 the family : this put me upon inquiry into the cir- 
 cumstances of it ; Why madam, says he, one was of 
 one opinion in religion, and one was of another ; 
 both of them were tenacious of their own opinion, 
 and censorious of the other : one went to one place 
 to worship, and one to another : one prayed to God 
 in one part of the house, and one in another. 
 Why, says I, they prayed to the same God I hope ; 
 sure charity might have taught them to have 
 prayed together ! So far from that, madam, says 
 he, that they not only never prayed with one an- 
 other, but I believe they scarce ever prayed for one 
 another, in their lives, but looked upon one another 
 as heathens and publicans, and such as God himself 
 would not hear. 
 
 This was a sad family, sir, said I ; but I hope 
 there are very few such in this nation, where re- 
 ligion is so heartily espoused. Truly, madam, says 
 he, it may teach us what occasion there is for us to 
 seek out for religious wives, and to take care to be 
 agreeable husbands to them, when we have them : 
 and here he said a great many handsome things in- 
 deed, of the little concern men generally took upon 
 themselves either to marry religious wives, or to see
 
 198 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP* 
 
 that the opinions of those they married were not 
 too much shocking with their own ; and especially 
 that when men had religious wives, or women had 
 religious husbands, they did not study, as much as 
 lay in them, on both sides, to bring their opinions to 
 agree with one another, bearing with one another, 
 yielding as much as possible to one another, and the 
 like ; that, as the Scripture said, their prayers might 
 not be hindered. 
 
 Sist. Well, and was this the discourse that she 
 did not like ? 
 
 Eld. Sist. I am sure her mother and I liked it ; 
 but she behaved herself so simply about it the next 
 day, that gave him a surfeit of her religion, and he 
 declined her afterwards upon that very account: 
 for as he told me since very seriously, she discovered 
 such a temper at that time, such a general dislike 
 of a religious life, and of a regular family, that made 
 him particularly afraid of her. 
 
 ^ Sist. Ay, ay, he should have gone, if he was so 
 nice ; I should have liked his discourse no better 
 than she did. 
 
 Eld. Sist. How can you say so, sister, when you 
 cannot but remember how you did like it when you 
 heard of it .^ 
 
 Sist. I should have thought it was too public 
 though, and that it was a kind of forcing me to a 
 necessity of giving an account of my opinions, 
 whether I would or no. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Well, what you would have done* I 
 know not; but I think no woman in her senses 
 could have disliked such principles as he went upon; 
 it plainly showed her that he was a man that placed 
 the principal felicity of his life upon having a reli- 
 gious wife, a religious conversation in his family, 
 and a religious government of it as it increased.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 199 
 
 Sist. What was that to the purpose ? she would 
 have had him without it, and he might have talked 
 of it afterwards. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Yes, yes, she would have had him with- 
 out it, that was her folly : but he was resolved he 
 would not have her without it, and that was his 
 wisdom ; and there was an absolute necessity for 
 him to try beforehand what he had to expect. 
 
 Sist. Well, I would not have been tried by him ; 
 he should e'en have gone, I say, and taken a fool for 
 his own finishing, where he could have found her. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Well, and he did go ; and you know he 
 married afterwards a very sensible, sober and reli- 
 ous woman, and they are a very happy family as any 
 I know ; whereas our foolish cousin, you see, has 
 married a rake ; a fellow of no religion, and is as 
 miserable almost as it is possible for a woman that 
 has a good estate to be made in this world. 
 
 Sist. Well, sister, and how do you bring this story 
 down to my case ? I hope I am not going to marry 
 a rake, as she has done ; if I thought it was so, I 
 would soon clear myself 
 
 Eld. Sist. No, no, sister, I do not say so ; but 
 there are many kinds of husbands to make a sober 
 woman miserable, besides rakes, that I assure you ; 
 nor was it upon that account I told you the story. 
 
 Sist. What about differing in opinions you mean? 
 I must confess, I think, sister, you are too nice in 
 that case, and run it up, I say, too high : I can give 
 many instances where such matches do very well. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Pretty well, you should have said ; and 
 I know where you are agoing to name a family ; I 
 
 suppose you mean our cousin Martha , and 
 
 our friend James ; one a strict church- 
 woman, and the other a quaker. 
 
 Sist. Well, suppose I did mean those ; they live 
 very comfortably, and love one another very well.
 
 200 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Eld. Sisf. I am glad you have named them, be- 
 cause I would argue from the best example you can 
 give : I allow they live as well as 'tis possible for 
 two of so wide and irreconcileable principles to do, 
 and it is owing to a world of good humour, affection, 
 and charity, in both of them ; but if you think there 
 is not something wanting between them, which ought 
 to be between a man and his wife, something essential 
 to what we call happiness, something they would 
 give half their estate to have, and the want of which 
 robs them of the sweetest part of relation, and of the 
 best and most solid comfort of a married life ; or if 
 you think that they are not both sensible of it, you 
 are greatly mistaken. 
 
 Sist. I do not converse much with them, not I ; 
 but I know they are a very loving couple, and every- 
 body takes notice of it, and admires them for it. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Before I go on where I was speaking, 
 let me take notice to you that your very last words 
 now are an argument on my side ; it is true, they 
 are admired for their kind and pleasant way of 
 living one with another ; and why is it ! but because 
 it is so seldom, so rare, so wonderful indeed, to find 
 two of different opinions agree so well, that all 
 people wonder at these two : and shall any young 
 woman, that values her peace, and lays any stress 
 upon the happiness of an agreement with her 
 husband, venture upon such a circumstance, in 
 which it must needs be next to a miracle, if she has 
 any such happiness? 
 
 Sist. You don't know but there may be many 
 more such. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Well, but I'll keep to your own example, 
 and I will convince you, sister, that, even in these 
 two, who are happy to a miracle, yet there is an ex- 
 ception to their felicity ; and, though they love en- 
 tirely, and that love covers a multitude of things,
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 201 
 
 yet, I say, they find something wanting, which 
 other people have, and something that they would 
 be glad to have ; and I have had frequent occasions, 
 in serious discourse with her, to hear her speak her 
 mind freely to me, in this very case ; particularly I 
 will give you one example of it, viz., one Sunday 
 morning, when I went to church with her; O ! said 
 she to me, cousin, if I could but get this dear 
 Jemmy of mine to go to church with me ! Well, says 
 I, what then ? What then ! says she ; why, then I 
 should be the happiest woman upon earth: methinks 
 'tis the melancholiest thing, continued she, to go 
 alone to the worship of God, and the man that I 
 love, and is to me as my own soul, won't worship 
 with me ; and it breaks my heart ; it quite takes 
 away all the comfort of my life. A while after this, 
 as we walked along the street to go to church, she 
 fetched a deep sigh: W^hat's the matter with you, said 
 I, cousin ? The matter, cousin ! says she, look there 
 
 you'll see what's the matter : there's Mrs. , 
 
 with her husband and all her children, going hand 
 in hand to serve God together : they live a heavenly 
 life ; while we, tho' we love one another better than 
 they do a great deal, yet live like two strangers on 
 the Sabbath-day, whatever we do all the rest of the 
 week. Now what think you of all their apparent 
 affection to one another, sister ? will that make up 
 the loss? 
 
 Sist They live very comfortably, for all that: and 
 their love makes up all those intervals in their satis- 
 faction. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Well, I'll tell you how comfortably they 
 live ; I assure you, though they are patterns to the 
 whole world, for extraordinary affection, and their 
 love is so uninterrupted, that it does make up abund- 
 ance of other things, yet here, I say, it makes up no
 
 202 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. m 
 
 intervals, I can assure you of it ; nay, I think verily, 
 that affection, which it is confessed they have one 
 for another, and for which they are both so admired, 
 makes it the worse ; at least, it makes it the more 
 grievous to bear ; and the part I am telling you will 
 prove it ; pray let me go on with it : I came back 
 with her and dined ; and after dinner, honest James 
 takes up his gloves and his cane, and came and kissed 
 her, and prepares to go to the quaker's meeting. 
 She could hold no longer then, but burst out into 
 tears ; he was extremely anxious to know what ailed 
 her, but she could not speak ; she was unwilling to 
 grieve him, and unwilling to say anything that was 
 unkind ; he pressed her a long time, and said a 
 thousand tender, kind things, that I hardly expected 
 from him ; but that made her cry the more. At 
 last, I said to him smiling, I know what troubles her 
 but you won't relieve her : Won't I, said he, a little 
 moved, why dost thou say so ? I would let out my 
 blood to do her any good ; and she knows that I will 
 stick at nothing to do for her. Why, says I, you 
 won't serve God with her. Won't I, said he, yes I 
 would with all my heart, if she would let me. This, 
 I found, laid a foundation for some dispute about 
 their principles, but she wisely avoided that, and I 
 perceived it, so I put it off : I dare say, says I, she 
 would give all she has in the world you would 
 but go to church with her now. At that she 
 burst out, though full of tears. iVy, says she, I 
 would give him back my jointure with all my heart. 
 He took her in his arms, and with all the tenderest 
 and kindest expressions that he was capable of, en- 
 deavoured to pacify her, and put an end to it, as a 
 thing they could not dispute of without unkindness, 
 and therefore better to be avoided : but it took up 
 the whole afternoon to restore them one to another.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 203 
 
 and she neither went to the church, nor he to the 
 meeting, and yet here was nothing but kindness and 
 affection between them all this while. 
 
 Sist I never heard anything of this before. 
 
 -Eld. Sist. But I have heard a great deal more 
 from her, and from him too ; though she loves him 
 to an extreniity, and, to give him his due, he merits 
 all her affection, yet as she is a very sober, religious 
 woman, she is ready to break her heart to think 
 sometimes what a life she lives, she can scarce ever 
 talk to me of anything else ; I having been some- 
 thing more intimate with her on these occasions 
 than ordinary. 
 
 Sist. What has she to complain of? Has she 
 not a kind husband ? And does he not give her 
 all the liberty and freedom in the world ? Does she 
 not go as fine, and dress as well as she pleases? Does 
 he not keep her a coach, and give her leave to give 
 her own liveries, and go where, and do what she 
 will ? Does she not live like a queen ? What can 
 she complain of? 
 
 £ld. Sist. Her case, in a word, sister, is the very 
 case our dear mother warned us of; and it is not 
 hard to tell you what she has to complain of; she is 
 a very sober, religious woman, that serves God night 
 and day, with a sincerity and devotion not easy to 
 be found among women, as the world goes now, 
 and I'll tell you what grieves her, and what she 
 complains of: her husband is as religious too, in his 
 way, as she is in hers ; but as there is no harmony 
 or concurrence in their several principles and ways 
 of worship, so there can be no public, stated, family 
 worship. He does not join with her, nor she can- 
 not join with them ; so all the thing called family 
 religion, the glory of a married state, and the com- 
 fort of family society, is entirely lost ; the servants 
 are left ungoverned, the children unguided; and
 
 204 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 there again is her grief doubled, she has four little 
 children. It is true he is a man of too good a hu- 
 mour to deny or restrain her in the education of 
 her children ; but it is a sad thing to her to be 
 obliged to instruct and caution her children against 
 the practice of their father, whose life ought to be 
 their pattern, and his practice their example. O 
 sister ! if ever you come to look into such a condi- 
 tion with a feeling sense of it, as your own, you 
 will find it is not all the tenderness of the most 
 affectionate husband in the world can make up the 
 loss of these things. On the other hand, he has his 
 dissatisfaction too ; he is as sad on the account of 
 her difference from him, as she is for his difference 
 from her ; so that, in short, the unhappiness is 
 mutual. 
 
 Sist. They should have considered and prevented 
 these things beforehand. 
 
 J^ld. Sist. That's true, sister ; and that's the rea- 
 son of all my discourse to you ; that's my proposal 
 to you, and the reason why I press you so much to 
 come to a certainty in these things. You will have 
 sad reflections hereafter, when 'tis past remedy. 
 
 Sist. I am not so nice in the point ; I told you 
 my remedy for it ; if he can't come up to me, 1 can 
 come up to him ; I am sure he is no quaker. 
 
 £ld. Sist. I hear you, sister ; you make light of 
 it now. I believe he is no quaker, but he may be 
 worse; and you are not sure he will equal that 
 quaker in goodness of humour, kindness, and affec- 
 tion, the want of which, I must tell you, will make 
 the want of the other be so much the worse to 
 bear. 
 
 Sist. Well, I must run the venture of it, I 
 think ; 'tis gone too far to break off now. 
 
 £ld. Sist. I have not been persuading you to 
 break it off, sister, you mistake me; I am only
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 205 
 
 arguing, or rather persuading you to inform your- 
 self of things, and know beforehand what you are 
 going to do, that you may not run into misery 
 blindfold, and make your marriage be, as old Hobbes 
 said of his death, a leap in the dark. 
 
 Sist. 1 think all marriages are a leap in the dark 
 in one respect or another. 
 
 JEld. Sist. Well, sister, if it be so, it should not 
 be so in matters of religion in whatever other case 
 it is so ; that should be clear, whatever is doubtful ; 
 that should be examined into, and perfectly dis- 
 covered, whatever is omitted : the mistakes in this 
 are fatal to both sides, and often irretrievable, and 
 the consequences dismal. 
 
 Sist. It is all a hazard, and that amongst the rest. 
 Eld. Sist. No, no, sister ; I am firm in my opi- 
 nions ; you and I have often argued it when you 
 seemed to be of my mind. It is true there is a 
 hazard in every part of the change of life ; we risk 
 our peace, our affection, our liberty, our fortunes, 
 but we ought never to risk our religion. 
 
 Sist. Why I am not running the risk of my own 
 religion, though I do not know his. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Yes, truly, in some measure, sister, 
 you do, and your own words acknowledged it just 
 now. Did you not say, that if he would not be of 
 your opinion, you would be of his ? And is it not 
 often that we see young women change their opi- 
 nions, nay, change the very principles of their reli- 
 gion, in compliance with their husbands ? 
 Sist. Well, and is it not very well to do so ? 
 Eld. Sist. If their principles were ill-founded be- 
 fore, they do well to change them, to be sure; but 
 is it not oftener that they rather abandon principle, 
 than exchange it ; lose their religion, than increase 
 it? For you cannot suggest, that all the women 
 who have changed their opinions, in compliance
 
 206 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 with their husbands, were wrong before, and have 
 changed for the better. 
 
 Sist. It is better so far, that it takes away the 
 foundation of family breaches, which you speak of. 
 
 Eld. Sist. But it is a sad exchange if it be 
 wrong ; for the woman then exchanges the peace 
 of her conscience for peace with her husband ; 
 loses her religion, and gives up her principles in- 
 stead of exchanging them for better. 
 
 Sist. There may be some compliance sure, with- 
 out entirely abandoning principle ; you propose 
 no medium between right and wrong. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Why, take our cousin we were speak- 
 ing of, or her husband the quaker, let them stand 
 for the example. Suppose she, in compliance 
 with him, (for you know she has affection enough to 
 do any possible thing to oblige him,) should turn 
 quaker, would she not retain a sting in her soul 
 that would destroy all her inward peace ? 
 
 Sist. I don't know what to say to that. Quakers 
 are Christians, I hope. 
 
 Eld. Sist. I won't enter into that ; I'll allow 
 them to be Christians too ; but take it of him, as 
 well as of her ; suppose him to change then, and 
 come over to her, then it would be the same in 
 him ; which is all one to the case in hand. Pray, 
 where is the felicity of such a match, where one or 
 other is supposed to act without conscience, or 
 against conscience, all their days, for conjugal peace, 
 and to sacrifice principle to affection ? Are not 
 these still invincible arguments for what I am per- 
 suading to ? 
 
 Sist. I scarce know what you are persuading to, 
 not I. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Yes, you do, sister, very well ; how- 
 ever, I'll repeat it as often as you say so. I am 
 urging the necessity of young people comparing
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 207 
 
 their religious principles and opinions before mar- 
 riage ; and seeing that they agree, at least so far as 
 to lay no foundation of a religious breach in the 
 family after marriage ; that they may worship God 
 together, join in family precepts, and support 
 family religion ; that they may agree in their in- 
 structions to their children, and join in setting 
 them examples ; that there may be no disputings 
 or dividings against one another, but a mutual har- 
 mony in the propagating their own eternal inte- 
 rests, and that they may go hand in hand the true 
 way to heaven. 
 
 Sist. And cannot this happen to them without a 
 settlement of circumstances beforehand, that we 
 must capitulate about religion as we do about join- 
 tures, and settle principles as we do fortunes, always 
 beforehand ? 
 
 £ld. Sist. That it may not or cannot happen so, 
 I will not say ; but if you will take the world at 
 large, as it is now stated, between those that have no 
 religion at all, and those who differ from others, you 
 must allow, sister, it is a lottery of a thousand blanks 
 to one prize ; and who that values their own peace 
 would venture the odds ? 
 
 Sist I believe I shall venture, for all that. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Then either you have no principle now, 
 sister, or it is ten to one but you give it up when 
 you are married. 
 
 Sist. Perhaps you may be mistaken in both. 
 
 JEId. Sist. If I am, there is a third, which I was 
 going to add, but restrained it in respect to you, in 
 which I believe I shall not be mistaken. 
 
 Sist. Let us have it, however. 
 
 Eld. Sist. If you will have it then, it is this : that 
 (to repeat the former) either, as I said, you have 
 no principle now, or will give up your principles
 
 208 KELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 when you are married, or will be very miserable 
 in a continual family strife to maintain them. 
 
 Sist. It must all be ventured, sister ; I see no 
 remedy now : there's no going back at this time of 
 day. 
 
 After this discourse, the eldest sister, seeing her 
 resolute, gave it over, and the young lady was as 
 good as her word ; for she put it all to the venture, 
 as will appear in the following dialogue. 
 
 The end of the first dialogue. 
 
 DIALOGUE II. 
 
 The young lady mentioned in the foregoing dialogue 
 is now to be viewed in another station of life : she 
 was not altogether so thoughtless of her circum- 
 stance, or so unconcerned as she seemed to be by 
 her discourse to her sister, about what was before 
 her, but she had not the conduct or resolution of 
 her sisters to carry her through : however, she did 
 take one step sufficient to leave a sad example of 
 a father perfectly unconcerned about the religious 
 settlement of his children, and making the good of 
 their souls no part of his care. 
 
 It was but a few days after the discourse which 
 she had held with her sister, that her father and she 
 had the following dialogue one evening, after the 
 gentleman who courted her was gone away: her 
 father, being in a parlour all alone, called her to 
 him, and began with her thus : — 
 
 Fa. Well, child, I suppose your ceremonies begin
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 209 
 
 to be pretty well over now ; when are we to bring 
 this business to a conclusion ? 
 
 Da. I am in no haste, sir. 
 
 Fa. Well, but Mr. is in haste ; you may 
 
 be sure he would be willing to have the inconveni- 
 ences of coming and going thus late be over ; and 
 as long as both sides are satisfied, why should we 
 keep him in suspense ? 
 
 Da. I do not keep him in suspense, sir. 
 
 Fa. Well then, if you are agreed, let us put an 
 end to it, my dear, and tell me what day you will be 
 married, and I'll make the appointment. 
 
 Da. Agreed, sir ! I have agreed to nothing, it is 
 all between him and you. 
 
 Fa. How do you mean, child ? he has now waited 
 on you these six or seven weeks ; I hope you know 
 one another's minds before now. 
 
 Da. We have spent six or seven weeks, indeed, 
 in his visits, talking and rattling of things in general, 
 but I am not much the wiser for it. 
 
 Fa. Why you are a little better acquainted, I 
 hope, than you were at first, child : do you like the 
 gentleman, or have you anything to object? 
 
 Da. Sir, I don't trouble myself much with ob- 
 jections ; 1 leave it all to you, sir ; I resolve to do 
 as you will have me to do : I won't do as my sister 
 did. 
 
 Fa. Well, you are in the right there ; but I hope 
 there is no occasion, neither : this gentleman is a 
 man of sobriety, and of a good character. 
 
 Da. I hope, sir, you have informed yourself fully 
 of that ; for I leave it all to you, sir ; and about his 
 religion too. 
 
 Fa. I have known him a great many years, child : 
 he is a very honest, good sort of a gentleman, I as- 
 sure you. 
 
 Da. I hope you have good grounds to be satis- 
 R. c. p
 
 210 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 fied, sir ; for I depend upon you, sir, for everything : 
 I know you would not propose him to me if he was 
 not a very sober, good man. 
 
 Fa. I am thoroughly satisfied of that, my dear. 
 
 Da. And of his being a religious person, sir ? 
 you know what my mother obliged us to on her 
 death-bed : I hope, sir, you have a good account 
 of his being a sober, religious man ? I leave all to 
 you, sir. 
 
 Fa. Yes, yes, my dear, he is a very religious, good 
 man, for aught I know, I assure you. 
 
 Da. He is a protestant, sir, is he not ? 
 
 Fa. A protestant, child ! yes, yes, he was always 
 a protestant all the while I traded with him : I have 
 had an account of it from several people. A pro- 
 testant ! yes, yes, you may be sure he is a protest- 
 ant ; I dare say he is. 
 
 Da. "Well, sir, if you are satisfied, I have no more 
 to say. 
 
 Fa. Nay, child, why dost thou put it so all upon 
 me? I beheve he is a good man, and religious 
 enough : I didn't bring him up, nor I ha'n't asked 
 him how religious he is ; I do not enter into these 
 things with folks ; every one's religion is to himself. 
 
 Da. Well, sir, if you are satisfied, I must be satis- 
 fied, to be sure. 
 
 Fa. Nay, I would have you be satisfied too, 
 child ; can't you ask him what religion he is of? 
 
 {Here the father seemed a little unwilling to have 
 it all lie upon him.) 
 
 Da. I can't ask him such a question, not I ; 
 besides, sir, if you are satisfied, I shall look no fur- 
 ther. 
 
 Fa. I know not what occasion there is to be so 
 scrupulous ; you see what ridiculous work your sister 
 made of it, and yet married the same man two years 
 after.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 211 
 
 Da. Sir, I don't make any scruples, not I, if you 
 are satisfied ; I shall do as you would have me : I 
 don't suppose you would have me have him, if he 
 wan't a very sober man. 
 
 {She has nothing in her but the same dull story 
 of doing everything her father would have her do.) 
 
 Fa. 1 tell thee, child, I dare say he is a very 
 sober, good man, and will make a very kind husband ; 
 I can say no more to thee. 
 
 Da. All I desire to know is, that he is a protest- 
 ant ; 1 hope you are sure of that, sir. 
 
 Fa. Dear child, what makes thee talk so ? 
 
 Da. He has lived a long while in Italy, sir, where, 
 they say, they are all papists. 
 
 Fa. Why, so did I, child, when I was a young 
 
 man, but never turned papist : I dare say Mr. 
 
 is a protestant ; I never heard any one suspect him 
 before. 
 
 It may be seen by this dull and empty discourse 
 on both sides, that this poor young lady went on 
 tanquam boves, like the ox to the slaughter ; not 
 knowing, or not considering, that it was for her life: 
 she resolved all her scruples into that weak way of 
 answering, 'I leave it all to you, sir ; I hope you are 
 satisfied, sir ; and I'll do as you would have me, sir,' 
 and the like ; not considering that she had a father 
 that laid no stress upon anything but the money ; 
 his whole care was for the settlement and the estate, 
 not inquiring into the principles of the person ; and 
 therefore his answers are as silly for a father as 
 hers were for a wife, viz., that he dare say the gen- 
 tleman was a very sober, good man, that he had 
 known him a long time, and did not question but he 
 was a protestant, and the like. In a word, the girl 
 left it all to her father ; and the father, perfectly in- 
 different as to matters of religion, left it out of his 
 
 y2
 
 212 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 inquiry. And thus they were married in a few 
 weeks after ; and abundance of mirth and jollity 
 they had, which covered all the appearances of other 
 things for a great while. 
 
 At length, the lady went home to her house in 
 the city, which was magnificently furnished : among 
 other rich furniture, the rooms were exceedingly 
 stored with a noble collection of very fine paintings, 
 done by the best masters in Italy ; the part of Italy 
 where this gentleman had lived, viz., the duke of 
 Tuscany's country, being particularly eminent for 
 choice pictures. It happened, after she had been 
 some time at home, had settled her house, and had 
 finished the decorations of her rooms, that her 
 husband bringing some very fine pictures home, 
 which were newly arrived from Italy, has, among 
 others, three very choice pieces hung up in their 
 bedchamber ; whereof one being a picture of the 
 Crucifixion, extremely valuable and fine, he con- 
 trived to have hanged up by the bed-side. 
 
 His wife, not used to such things, perfectly igno- 
 rant of the design, not at all acquainted with the 
 use made of them in popish countries, took no 
 manner of notice of it at first, taking it to be only 
 brought in there, as it was a most noble piece of 
 painting ; and that her husband thought it was the 
 best thing he could grace her chamber with. It 
 happened her two sisters came together some time 
 after, as is usual, to see her house, and to see the 
 fine collection of paintings, which they had been 
 told so much of: and after some time, their sister 
 and their new brother led them through all the 
 apartments, which were indeed extremely fine : the 
 brother-in-law, as what he took great delight in, 
 made it his business to tell them the design of the 
 several pictures, what places or fine houses such 
 and such represented, what stories and what faces
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 213 
 
 Others were drawn for, and the like ; and being his 
 wife's sisters, he treated them with all the freedom 
 and kindness imaginable. 
 
 When they came to the Crucifixion, which hung 
 by the bed-side, he told them there was one of the 
 finest pieces of painting in England ; told them the 
 name of the painter that had drawn it, who, he 
 said, was one of the best masters in Italy ; and I'll 
 assure you, sister, says he, this is counted a fine 
 thing in Italy. 
 
 But why must it hang in your bedchamber, 
 brother ? says the other married sister, not suspect- 
 ing anything ; for her eldest sister had not told her 
 anything of what she had said to her sister. O 
 madam, says he, they always have these things in 
 their bedchambers in Italy, on a religious account. 
 Well, says the sister, but as we do not make use of 
 them that way, methinks they are better anywhere 
 else. Why sister, says he, our bedchambers are 
 places where we are, or ought to be most serious. 
 Why, says she again, but we that are protestants do 
 not make a religious use of them. Not so much 
 perhaps, says he, as the Romans do ; but I cannot 
 say but they may be useful to assist devotion. Not 
 at all, says the sister. At least, madam, says he, 
 they can be no disadvantage to us ; we want all 
 possible helps in our adorations. We have the 
 promise of the Spirit of God to assist us, says the 
 sister, very warmly, and need no idolatrous pictures. 
 He saw she was tart, and seemed to be forward to 
 dispute, which he avoided ; so he called them to 
 look on another picture, and that passed off the dis- 
 course. 
 
 After they had gone through several apartments, 
 and had admired the fine paintings, as indeed they 
 well deserved, they came to his closet ; he would 
 have avoided going in, and told them it was in con-
 
 214 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 fusion, and not worth their seeing : but his wife 
 having told them it was her husband's closet, they 
 would not be denied: when they went in, they 
 were surprised with the most charming pictures 
 that their eyes had ever beheld, with abundance of 
 rarities, which their brother, being very curious, 
 had picked up in his travels ; and in a little room 
 on one side of his closet, upon a table covered with 
 a carpet of the finest work they had ever seen, stood 
 a pix or repository of the host, all of gold, and 
 above them an altar-piece of most exquisite paint- 
 ing : he was indeed jealous of being betrayed by 
 these things, but there being none but the ladies, 
 who had never seen such things before, and knew 
 nothing by the form, they retired without so much 
 as discovering what it was ; and as for his wife, she 
 was so perfectly ignorant, that she was easily im- 
 posed upon. 
 
 They passed from this place to the other side of 
 the closet, where were abundance of very fine 
 pieces ; but here the eldest sister could not forbear 
 observing that all the pictures on that whole side of 
 the room were religious pieces, and, though still 
 without much suspicion, she said to him, I observe, 
 brother, you gentlemen that have lived in Italy, are 
 so in love with popish customs, that you are always 
 full of these church paintings ; here's nothing but 
 representations of Christ and the Virgin Mary, in 
 one shape or another, in every room in your house : 
 she went on jestingly for some time, till she came 
 to the upper end of the room, to a picture which 
 hung just over an easy chair, and which had a cur- 
 tain drawn over it ; he thought she would not have 
 let her curiosity outrun her good manners, and so 
 did not apprehend her opening it ; but she made no 
 scruple of offering to fling back the curtain ; but 
 soon found it would not run back, being, as she
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 215 
 
 found afterwards, to draw up in festoons with 
 pulleys : however, she discovered by what she had 
 done, that the picture was the same with that in the 
 bedchamber, viz., a large crucifix, or picture of the 
 Crucifixion. 
 
 She said no more, but hastened to view what was 
 further to be seen, yet so as that it was easy to 
 discover she was in no little disorder. Her sister 
 that came with her, discovered it first, and asked 
 what ailed her. Then the new-married sister, 
 whose house she was in, came to her with the same 
 question ; she owned to them she was not very- 
 well, and that presently gave her an excuse to with- 
 draw into the woman's apartment, where she had 
 some room to recollect herself: however, she took 
 care not to give the least cause to suspect what 
 ailed her, till she got an opportunity, when nobody 
 was in the room with her but her youngest sister, 
 (she who was first married,) and then she burst out 
 into tears, and taking her sister about the neck, 
 with the greatest passion imaginable ; O my dear 
 sister, says she, this poor child is utterly undone. 
 Undone ! says her sister, what do you mean ? I 
 think she is nobly married. O sister ! I tell you 
 she is undone ; the man's a papist I Somebody 
 came into the room just as she had said this, so that 
 her sister had no time to ask her any further ; and 
 she, to prevent it, added, I'll tell you more by and 
 by ; so they passed it over. 
 
 You may be sure it was, after this, a very uneasy 
 hour the two sisters spent In the ceremonies of 
 their visit, both longing earnestly to be at liberty to 
 talk together, one to disburden her mind, which 
 was oppressed with what she had formerly suspected, 
 and now found confirmed ; and the other to hear 
 the particulars of what she was so surprised at. 
 
 It was not long before they got away, and as soon
 
 216 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 as ever they were in the coach, the married sister 
 said, Dear sister, you have so surprised me with 
 what you told me just now, that I thought every 
 minute an hour till I got away, that I might talk 
 about it ; I entreat you what makes you talk as you 
 do? 
 
 Eld. Sist. O sister ! I am too well satisfied of it ; 
 I am sure 'tis so : I suspected it all along, before 
 they were married, but now I am convinced of it ; 
 I am as sure of it as if I had seen him at high 
 mass. 
 
 (Here she tells her what she had observed upon 
 his pictures and crucifixes.^ 
 
 Married Sist. Now you surprise me again ; you 
 say you suspected it all along. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Indeed I did ; though I own I know no 
 reason why I did so. 
 
 Mar. Sist. But why did you not warn her of it ? 
 she ought to have known of it; certainly she would 
 never have married him if she had known it : that 
 was very unkind not to warn her of it. 
 
 Eld. Sist. I did very plainly tell her my suspicions ; 
 but as I had no ground to fasten it upon him, it 
 made very little impression upon her, nor could I 
 really say it was so. 
 
 3Iar. Sist. Well, I would have pressed her to a 
 solemn inquiry into it ; you might have prevented 
 her ruin, if you had done it in time ; now she is un- 
 done indeed, if it be as you say, and there is no 
 room to prevent it. 
 
 Eld. Sist. You cannot think I had so little concern 
 for her, as not to tell her my suspicions and to use 
 all the arguments I was capable of, to persuade and 
 prevail with her to inquire into his principles; for I 
 know too well what the dwelling twenty years in 
 Italy might do. 
 
 (Here she recites to her the particulars of the
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 217 
 
 whole dialogue foregoing, between her and her 
 younger sister.) 
 
 Mar. Sist. Poor child ! she is ruined indeed ; 
 she has leaped headlong into it, in spite of good 
 advice, and her ruin is of her own procuring : But 
 what will you do now, sister ? Will you let her know 
 it? 
 
 Eld. Sist. No no ; I won't be the messenger of 
 her sorrows, she'll find it out soon enough ; the 
 thing will discover itself too soon. 
 
 Mar. Sist. Dear sister, what does my father say 
 to it ? Does he know it ? 
 
 Eld. Sist. You know, sister, my father gives 
 himself very little trouble about such things ; 1 dare 
 say he never inquired into it, or concerned himself 
 about it. 
 
 Mar. Sist. Does he know anything of it now ? 
 
 Eld. Sist. Truly, I do not know ; but I know 
 that after I had pressed her so earnestly about it 
 she did mention it to my father once at a distance 
 in their discourse, as that she did not question but 
 he was a good, sober man, or else he (her father) 
 would not have recommended him ; and added, I 
 hope he is a protestant, sir ? 
 
 Mar. Sist. Well, what said my father to that 
 part? 
 
 Eld. Sist. He answered after the same slight 
 way as those who make the main part none of their 
 care : Yes, yes, child ; a protestant I I dare say he 
 is ; he was always a protestant when I was in 
 Italy with him, and everybody knows he is a pro- 
 testant ; and you need not question that, 1 dare 
 say. 
 
 3Iar. Sist. Poor child ! she had no sincere con- 
 cern upon her about it ; if she had, she would not 
 have been put off in a matter of so much moment.
 
 218 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 with a bare supposition, taking it for granted ; or I 
 dare say 'tis so, without inquiring into it. 
 
 Eld. Sisf. It is too true ; she has not made it 
 much her concern, and I am so much the more 
 afraid for her now. 
 
 Mar. Sist. Afraid for her, say you! What are you 
 afraid of her turning papist ? 
 
 Eld. Sist. Why yes, I am : you know I told you 
 what an answer she gave me to that very point se- 
 veral times, viz., that if he would not be of her 
 opinion, she would be of his ; that if he was a 
 Christian catholic, she was a catholic Christian, and 
 they would have no strife about that, and the like ; 
 and yet that is not all my concern neither. 
 
 Mar. Sist. What is it then ? 
 
 Eld. Sist. Why I fear more the insinuations and 
 vSubtlety of his tongue, his unwearied solicitation, 
 the powerful motives of a man perfectly master of 
 the art of persuasion ; and that the more sweet- 
 ness he has in his temper, (for he is really of a 
 most engaging disposition,) the more influence his 
 words will have on her, to win her over to error, 
 not merely in complaisance to him as her husband, 
 but by her not being able to answer his reasonings. 
 
 Mar. Sist. I confess, 'tis hard to resist the force 
 of those persuasions, the reasons for which we 
 cannot rid our hands of by argument : and one is 
 apt to think one ought to comply with what we 
 cannot confute ; otherwise the papists will tell us 
 we are protestants we know not why ; a Jew may 
 tell us we are Christians, we know not why ; and an 
 atheist may tell us we are religious, we know not 
 why, and so on. 
 
 Eld. Sist. And that which is worse, there is no 
 breaking the thing to her ; to talk to her of it, is to 
 anticipate her misfortunes : perhaps he designs to
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 219 
 
 conceal it from her for good and all, and at least it 
 may be a great while before she discovers it ; and 
 all that time she will be happy in not thinking her- 
 self so miserable as she is. 
 
 Mar. Sist. I allow you, it is not fit to mention it 
 to her first ; and yet I am afraid, if she finds it out, 
 she will endeavour to conceal it from us. 
 
 £Id. Sist. I doubt so ; and by that means we are 
 perfectly deprived of all opportunity of assisting her, 
 or endeavouring to fortify her against the insinua- 
 tions of any to turn her to popery. 
 
 Mar. Sist. But I think we should break it to my 
 father. 
 
 EM. Sisf. I know not what to say to that ; I am 
 afraid his indifference in the thing should be a means 
 to discover it to her, and bring some inconvenience 
 or other with it. 
 
 JIar. Sisf. I do not see any danger of that : but 
 I think 'tis fit he should know it on many accounts. 
 
 Eld. Sisf. I acknowledge I think he should know 
 it, if it were possible to engage him not to disclose 
 it ; but, unless it can be done so, I would not have 
 any hand in telling it him, upon any account what- 
 ever. 
 
 While they were in this dilemma, and doubtful 
 what to do in it, as to telling their father, they 
 were delivered from it by their father himself, as 
 will appear in the following discourse. As soon as 
 they came home, their father began with them ; 
 for he was more impatient to open his mind to 
 them, than they were on the other hand doubtful 
 about consulting with him upon this unhappy case : 
 both sides being therefore willing to talk of it, they 
 could not want an opportunity; and the father, after 
 supper, began it with his new-married daughter, 
 thus :
 
 220 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Fa. Well, Betty, you have been to visit your 
 sister in her new house, I find : how do you like 
 things ? 
 
 Mar. Sist. Sir, she is nobly married, to be sure, 
 she has a house like a palace. 
 
 Eld. Sist. I think there is the finest paintings 
 that ever I saw in my life : he has laid out vast sums 
 sure in pictures. 
 
 Fa. He always had the finest collection of paint- 
 ings of any merchant in Leghorn : he is a great 
 lover of art, and has a nice judgment, which are the 
 two only things that can make buying so many pic- 
 tures rational ; for his pieces are so well chosen, that 
 he may sell them when he pleases for above a thou- 
 sand pounds more than they cost. 
 
 Fid. Sist. I like his fancy to pictures very well ; 
 but methinks I don't admire his having so many 
 crucifixes and church-pieces among them. 
 
 Fa. It is the custom in Italy, child ; all people 
 have them. 
 
 Fid. Sist. That is, because they make a religious 
 use of them : but I think protestants should not be 
 so fond of them, who make no such use of them : it 
 looks so like popery, that if the mind was not fur- 
 nished against them, it seems to give a life that 
 way ; and then I observe he hangs them all just as 
 they do : his crucifixes and passion-pictures hang 
 all by the bed-side ; his altar-pieces just at the 
 upper end of the room, or on the east side ; I can- 
 not imagine why protestants, if they will have the 
 pictures, should hang them in the same places, and 
 mimic the catholics in the appearances, as long as 
 they do not make the same use of them. 
 
 This discourse touched their father to the heart, 
 and, as he said afterwards, he could hardly forbear 
 tears ; but he held it in a little longer, and replied
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 221 
 
 that it was only the custom of the country, and they 
 might think no harm in it ; and so being willing to 
 put by the discourse, he turns again to his married 
 daughter thus : — 
 
 Fa. Well, but child, how do you like your new 
 brother ? for you never saw him before, or at least, 
 never to converse with him. 
 
 Mar, Sist. He is a very fine gentleman, sir ; I 
 was going to wish you joy, sir, and to say I was very 
 glad to see my sister so well married, but something 
 prevented me. 
 
 (A^ow the father could co7itai?i himself no longer.) 
 
 Fa. I know not what prevented you, but 1 be- 
 lieve it was the same that forces me to tell you 
 both I have no joy in it at all : your sister is un- 
 done. 
 
 Mar. Sist. Undone, sir ! what do you mean ? what 
 can be the matter ? 
 
 Fa. She is undone indeed, child ; and more than 
 that, I have undone her : the man's a papist. 
 
 ( The father burst out into tears as soon as he had 
 spoken the ivords, and the daughters stood as they 
 were speechless for some time, looking at one an- 
 other ; at last the married daughter spoke.) 
 
 3Iar. Sist. Are you sure of it, sir ? 
 
 Fa. Ay, ay, I am too sure of it : I have lived in 
 Italy, and know something of the manner of such 
 things ; I presently discovered it. 
 
 Eld, Sist. Will you please to tell us how you dis- 
 covered it ? for we have the same thoughts, but we 
 durst not speak our minds about it. 
 
 Fa. Child, it is impossible for any one that has 
 lived in Italy not to discover it, as soon as he sees 
 his house. 
 
 Eld. Sist. What, from the crucifixes and church 
 pictures I spoke of ? 
 
 Fa. No, no, child : but was you in his closet ?
 
 222 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Yes, sir. 
 
 Fa. And was you in an inner room that you went 
 to through his closet, and through another room 
 beyond it ? 
 
 Eld. Sist. Yes, sir ; we were both there, but we 
 saw nothing more than ordinary; only still more 
 church pieces, as that of the Passion, the Salutation, 
 the Ascension, and the like. 
 
 Fa. It is because you have not been used to such 
 things, child : why it is his oratory ; it is a little 
 consecrated chapel, and there stands an altar, and 
 an altar-piece over it, with a crucifix, and the Ascen- 
 sion painted above that ; on either side there are 
 fine rich paintings, one of the Baptism, and another 
 of the assembly at the feast of Pentecost, and the 
 Holy Ghost descending in flaming tongues, and the 
 like : but that is not all, for upon the altar is a pix 
 of pure gold, covered with a piece of crimson 
 velvet, which is the repository, as they call it, of 
 the host. 
 
 Eld. Sist. I wonder, sir, he would let you see 
 these things, if he designed to conceal his profession. 
 Fa. It was all by accident ; for when I was in his 
 closet, he was called hastily down, and his wife let 
 me into these two rooms. But, alas! she knows 
 nothing of the meaning of them, she only takes 
 them to be fine Italian rarities. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Indeed I do not wonder at that, for I 
 understood them no more than she does : and yet, 
 my sister knows, I presently entertained the same 
 opinion of his religion as you do now, but it was 
 from a picture of the Crucifixion that hung by his 
 bed-side, with a curtain over it. 
 
 Fa. Well, child, yours are suspicions, mine is a 
 certainty : when I charged him with it, he could 
 not deny it, but seemed surprised when he found I 
 had been in his chapel.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 223 
 
 3Iar. Sisf. Nay, it is then out of doubt, it seems, 
 if he owns it ; but what will become of my sister ? 
 now she will have reason to see how just my mother's 
 injunctions were to us all; I fear she will reproach 
 herself with the neglect of them. 
 
 Fa. My dear, she must reproach me with it ; 'tis 
 I have ruined her ; I have given her up. 
 
 Ma?\ Sisf. No, sir, I think it lay upon her to 
 have inquired into his principles in rehgion before 
 she had given herself out of her own power. 
 
 Fa. ]My dear, she came to me, and questioned 
 with me upon this very point : she asked me if he 
 was a protestant, and I encouraged her, told her he 
 was a protestant, and a very sober, good man. 
 
 3Iar. Sisf. 1 suppose, sir, you did not say posi- 
 tively that you were sure he was a protestant, but 
 that you believed so. 
 
 Fa. I assured her so much of its being my 
 opinion, that I told her she need not fear it ; and 
 she again left it all to me, and depended upon me, 
 and it is I that have betrayed and deluded her : in 
 short, I have sold my child, and the peace of her 
 life, for the toys and fine things of Italy : I have 
 undone her ; it is all owing to my being unconcerned 
 for the better part. 
 
 Fid. Sisf. Dear father, do not take the weight of 
 it so much upon yourself: my sister know^s it was 
 her duty to have made a further search into it, and I 
 pressed her to it in time, and with all possible im- 
 portunity. 
 
 Fa. Child, you did right ; and I believe she de- 
 signed to follow your directions : But what assist- 
 ance did I give her I how did I damp that resolu- 
 tion, when 1 stopped her mouth by telling her that 
 I dared to say he was a protestant ! She trusted to 
 my assurance ; nay, she told me that she did so. 
 {Here the father repeats to her the discourse he-
 
 224 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 tween him and his daughter, mentioned at the be- 
 ginning of this dialogue, continuing to reproach him- 
 self with betraying his child.) 
 
 Eld. Sist. But, sir, notwithstanding all this dis- 
 course, (for she told me every word, from time to 
 time,) I urged her a great many times, and told 
 her my thoughts ; for I suspected him from the be- 
 ginning ; and I laboured to convince her that she 
 ought to see with her own eyes, and to talk plainly 
 and openly to him of it. 
 
 Fa. Did she not tell you that her father had as- 
 sured her he was a protestant, and that she trusted 
 to that ? 
 
 Eld. Sist. She was more just to you, sir, than to 
 say that you assured her of it ; but she repeated 
 your very words, that you said you believed it, and 
 dare say he was ; and I told her plainly, that it was 
 evident from your words that you only spoke your 
 opinion, and that she ought not therefore to call 
 that a positive assurance to be depended upon: 
 indeed, sir, I was very plain with her ; she has no- 
 body to blame but herself, I told her. 
 
 (Here she repeats all her former discourse ivith 
 her sister.) 
 
 Fa. She has herself, indeed, been to blame for 
 want of reflection upon your seasonable persuasions, 
 my dear, and you acted a faithful part to her : but 
 had I been as faithful to her, who was obliged in 
 duty to have done it, and on whom she depended, 
 as you were, who had no obligation but from your 
 affections, I had delivered my child from ruin. 
 
 Eld. Sist. I cannot say, sir, you had delivered 
 her ; she seemed resolved to have him : her eyes 
 were dazzled with the gay things she expected, and 
 unless you had positively refused your consent, I 
 fear religion had not hold enough on her thoughts 
 to have balanced her love of vanity.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 225 
 
 Fa. But I have been perfectly careless of it, and 
 have not done the duty of my place ; I ought to 
 have inquired into the circumstances of the person 
 myself, and have restrained her. 
 
 Eld. Sist. I am sorry for her, but I think you 
 reflect on yourself too severely, sir ; to be sure you 
 did not know that he was a papist, neither had you 
 any suspicion of it ; but she had ; for 1 put the sus- 
 picion into her head, and earnestly pressed her to 
 satisfy herself about it from himself. 
 
 Fa. My dear, I have been always too careless in 
 these things : I remember the case of your sister 
 here, and cannot but reflect how, when in a passion 
 I told her it was none of my business, my own heart 
 struck me with reproach ; for I knew it was my duty ; 
 I wish this poor child had been as strict and as nice 
 in that matter as her sister was ; though I took it ill 
 then, I see now she was in the right of it. 
 
 Eld. Sist. You afflict yourself, sir, for a case that 
 issued well ; and where, if you were in the wrong, 
 there was no bad consequences : whereas in this 
 case, where the bad consequences have happened, 
 you were no way the cause, 'tis all her own doing. 
 
 Fa. But as it is an affliction to me, and that you 
 may be sure it is. Providence seems to show me my 
 sin, by my punishment ; I acknowledge I was in the 
 wrong before, and it is not owing to my prudence or 
 concern that your sister was not ruined : besides, 
 every father that has a due concern for the souls of 
 his children, will certainly inquire narrowly into the 
 principles as well as morals of the persons they 
 match them to. 
 
 In a word, their father afflicted himself so much 
 and so long upon this matter, that his two daughters 
 were obliged to drop their concern for their sister, 
 and apply all the skill they had to comfort their 
 
 R. C. Q
 
 226 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 father : lie was so overwhelmed with it, that it threw 
 him into a deep melancholy, and that into a fit of 
 sickness, which, though he recovered, yet he did 
 not in a long time thoroughly enjoy himself; always 
 charging and reproaching himself with having ruined 
 his child, having regarded nothing but the outside 
 of things, and referring all their happiness to a 
 plentiful fortune, and gay and extravagant way of 
 living. 
 
 This went on some time: the eldest daughter, 
 who was left with the father, managed things so 
 prudently, that no notice was taken of these things 
 in the family, and her father readily agreed with 
 both his daughters, that it was by no means 
 proper to let their sister know what they had dis- 
 covered ; concluding, that whenever she discovered 
 it herself, she would come home with a sad hearty 
 and make her complaint to them fast enough. 
 
 But they were all mistaken in their sister; for 
 though she discovered the thing, and lived a 
 melancholy life with her husband upon that occasion, 
 yet in eight years that she lived with him, she never 
 complained, or made her sorrows known to any of 
 her relations ; but carried it with an even, steady 
 temper, and bore all her griefs in her own breast : 
 as shall be seen at large in the next dialogue. 
 
 The end of the second dialogue. 
 
 DIALOGUE III. 
 
 The new married couple, of whom we had been 
 speaking, lived in all the splendour and greatness that 
 the highest degree of private persons admits of, and 
 which a family possessed of an immense wealth,
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 227 
 
 could be supposed to do : he was not only very rich 
 when he married, as might be supposed by the noble 
 furniture of his house, and his very valuable collec- 
 tion of pictures and rarities, and the like, of which 
 mention has been made, but as he fell privately into 
 a great affair of remitting money by way of England 
 to Genoa, for supply of the French armies in Italy, 
 he got that way a prodigious sum of money ; and 
 yet acting only by correspondents at Amsterdam, he 
 was liable to no resentment or objections from the 
 government here. 
 
 After he had lived thus about eight years, and in 
 that time had six children by this young lady, he 
 died ; she had four of her children living : but their 
 father, after having in vain tried all the persuasions, 
 arguments, and entreaties, (for he was too good a 
 husband, and too much a gentleman to use any other 
 method,) to bring his wife over to the Roman church, 
 left her, however, under this terrible affliction, that 
 having disposed of his vast estate in a very honour- 
 able manner, as well to her as to her children, yet 
 be took the education of her children from her, 
 leaving them to the tuition of guardians, to bring 
 them up in the Roman religion. Nor was this the 
 effect of his unkindness to her ; for except in dis- 
 putes about these things, they never had any dif- 
 ference worth the name of a dispute in their lives ; 
 and at his death he left at her own disposal above 
 six times the fortune she brought him ; but this of 
 his children was a mere point of conscience to him, 
 which he could not dispense with. This was an in- 
 expressible grief to her, and that such and so heavy, 
 as it is impossible to represent in this narrow tract, 
 so as to say how far it afflicted her, or what ill con- 
 sequences attended it ; the drift and design of this 
 work also lying quite another way, viz., to show the 
 manner of life v.hich naturally attends the best 
 
 q2
 
 228 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 matches, where the religious principles of the hus- 
 band and wife are not the same. 
 
 The eldest sister was now married also, and 
 married very happily and comfortably ; the princi- 
 ples as well as practices of her husband not only 
 concurred entirely with her own, but answered in a 
 most agreeable manner to the character which was 
 given to her father of him, viz., that he was a person 
 truly religious. 
 
 The father, now grown old, had been a true pe- 
 nitent for his mistakes in the past conduct of his 
 children, and had fully made up his want of care in 
 his middle daughter's match, by his difficulty in 
 being pleased for his eldest ; she needed no concern 
 for, or to show any nicety in, examining into the 
 person, for her father was so very nice for her, that 
 scarce anything could please him ; he rejected 
 several good offers, merely on account of religious 
 principles, and put them off without so much as 
 naming them to his daughter, till at last fixing upon 
 a merchant in the city, who^ both for sobriety, piety, 
 opinion in religion, and estate, suited every way 
 both his own desires and his daughter's judgment, 
 the match, under such circumstances, was soon made. 
 The uninterrupted felicity this young lady enjoyed, 
 in having the best husband, the best Christian, and 
 the best tempered man in the world, all in one, 
 made her the happiest woman alive; and indeed 
 recommended the caution she always used in her 
 choice, by its success. 
 
 Her father lived with this daughter, when he was 
 in town, but otherwise in Oxfordshbe, with his own 
 
 sister, the lady , widow of sir James , 
 
 of whom mention is made in the first part of this 
 work : he lived very easy, having thus seen his 
 family all settled ; for his two sons were very well 
 fixed abroad, the one at Leghorn, and the other at
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 229 
 
 Cadiz ; and he might really be said to have no af- 
 fliction in the world but that of his middle daughter, 
 who, though by far the richest and most prosperous 
 in circumstances, and lived in the most splendour of 
 all the rest, yet he esteemed really miserable ; and 
 so indeed in one sense she was. 
 
 He was at dinner one day at his eldest daugh- 
 ter's house, his youngest daughter being casually 
 there also, when, while they were at table, letters 
 came from the Bath, where his middle daughter 
 was gone with her husband, to acquaint them that 
 her husband, after an indisposition of no more than 
 five days, was dead. It surprised them all, for he 
 had not so much as heard that he was ill ; and his 
 distemper being a pleurisy, it was exceedingly vio- 
 lent, and carried him off very quickly. When 
 their father read the letter, he was extremely sur- 
 prised, and rising up from the table hastily, Poor 
 child ! says he, God has delivered her, but it is by 
 a sad stroke. His daughters got up from table 
 terribly frighted, when they saw the disorder their 
 father was in, not knowing what the matter was; 
 but he perceiving it, turned about suddenly, and 
 
 said. Your sister is a widow ; and threw 
 
 down the letter. At this they sat down again 
 all surprised, and indeed sensibly afflicted ; for, 
 excepting his religion, which was not all that while 
 made public, he was a most obliging relation to 
 them all. 
 
 I purposely pass over here the incidents that 
 may be supposed to happen in the family on so sad 
 an occasion, (such as the lady's coming up from the 
 Bath, the concern of the father and sisters to com- 
 fort her, the disposal of herself, and the manage- 
 ment of her affairs,) hastening to the main story, 
 viz., the account she gave of her life past, and of 
 what she had gone through in the eight years of her
 
 230 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 married state, upon the particular occasion of her 
 husband's being of a different religion. 
 
 It was some months after her husband's death, 
 and when all her affairs were in a settled posture, 
 that she went to divert her thoughts a little, and 
 unbend her mind from the sorrows she had been 
 under, (for she was a sincere mourner for her hus- 
 band;) I say, it was some months after his death, 
 that her younger sister having invited her down to 
 her seat in Hampshire, she went thither, and her 
 father and eldest sister, at her request, went all 
 with her. 
 
 Here, upon casual discoursing of things past, 
 her father, who was almost ever bemoaning his 
 neglect in exposing his children, threw out some 
 words which first gave her to understand that both 
 he and her sisters knew her husband was not a pro- 
 testant, at which she seemed very much surprised ; 
 but as she found it was known, and that, however, 
 it was still so far a secret, as that it had gone no 
 further than their own breasts, she was soon made 
 easy ; she then made a confidence of it, earnestly 
 entreating them that it might go no further, which 
 they willingly promised for her satisfaction. 
 
 But this opened the door for variety of con- 
 ferences among them, as particularly her sisters 
 told her how they discovered it first, and after- 
 wards their father ; and repeated all the discourses 
 they had had about it, and how and for what reason 
 they had resolved never to mention it to her, un- 
 less she spoke first of it ; concluding, that per- 
 haps he might conceal it from her, and they would 
 be very loath to discover a thing to her which they 
 knew had no other consequence at that time, but 
 to ruin and afflict her. Alas, sister! says she, 
 I discovered it within a fortnight after I came 
 home.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 231 
 
 Ay ! says her youngest sister, you had a good 
 government of yourself to refrain unbosoming 
 to some of us ; especially considering my sister 
 here (meaning her eldest sister) had been so 
 serious with you upon that very head before you 
 were married. 
 
 Dear sister, says the widow, to what purpose 
 is it for any woman, when she is married, to com- 
 plain of her disappointments, which she knows she 
 cannot mend ? 
 
 Vo. SisL That's true, my dear, but who is there 
 that can deny themselves that ease to their grief? 
 
 Wid. Alas! complaining is but a poor ease to 
 such sorrows ; 'tis like sighing, which relieves the 
 heart one moment, and doubly loads it the next. 
 
 Yo. Sist. Well, sister, seeing you had so entire a 
 mastery over yourself in that part, and you brought 
 the dominion of your reason over your passions, to 
 so perfect an exercise, which is what I confess I 
 must admire you for ; I say, seeing you mastered 
 yourself so well that way, I am obliged to think 
 you mastered yourself as well within doors ; and 
 with good conduct, perhaps, you made it no incon- 
 venience to you. I wish you would let us hear 
 how you managed, that we may see, perhaps, dif- 
 ference of opinion may be so managed as to make 
 no breaches in a family, and it might be as well as 
 if it had been otherwise. 
 
 Wid. No, no, sister, don't fancy so. Our dear 
 mother was wiser than so, and you were all wiser 
 than I, to lay so much stress upon it as you did ; 
 I am a convert now to my mother's instructions, 
 though it be too late to help it. 
 
 Vo. Sist. Why Mr. and you lived mighty 
 
 easy. You were always mighty well with one an- 
 other 1 thought. 
 
 fVid. It was impossible to be ill with him, he
 
 232 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 was of so excellent a temper ; but this makes my 
 case perfectly instructing to others, and proves 
 effectually, that no goodness of the disposition, no 
 excess of affection, no prudent compliances, though 
 they make the case rather better than worse, can 
 yet make up, no, not in the least, or any way ba- 
 lance, the inexpressible deficiency that such a breach 
 in religious matters makes in a family. 
 
 Fa. Ay, ay, my dear, I see it now, with a sad 
 heart, but it was far from any of my thoughts then ; 
 you owe all the misery of it to my neglect. 
 
 Wid. Sir, I dare say you did not mistrust it ; I 
 remember you said he had always been a protest- 
 ant when you was at Leghorn, and that you knew 
 he was bred so. 
 
 Fa. Ay, my dear; but it was my business to 
 have inquired further into it : I might easily have 
 known it if I had inquired ; for several merchants 
 told me afterwards of it ; but I laid no stress 
 upon it ; in short, I did not consider the conse- 
 quences. 
 
 Yo. Sist. There is no need to afflict yourself now, 
 sir, about it; my sister is delivered another way, 
 sir, and the thing is over. 
 
 Fa. But I am a warning to all parents, that have 
 the good of their children at heart, never to make 
 light of such things, but search them to the bottom; 
 and the more their children depend upon them, the 
 greater is their obligation to be very careful. 
 
 Yo. Sist. Well, my sister is delivered from it all 
 now. 
 
 Wid. It is a sad deliverance, sister; and it is 
 a dreadful case to be so married, as that the death 
 of a husband should be counted a deliverance ; and 
 especially of a good husband too. 
 
 Yo. Sist. I do believe he was a good husband in- 
 deed, that one particular excepted ; but that was a
 
 SELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 233 
 
 terrible circumstance, and would have made the best 
 husband in the world a bad husband to me. 
 
 ffld. Ay, child, and so it did to me in some 
 cases, though he was otherwise the best-humoured 
 man, and the best husband imaginable. 
 
 Yo. Sist. No question there was some uneasiness 
 at first, but it seems you got over it ; I wish you 
 would tell us, sister, how you managed the first 
 discovery between you. 
 
 Wid. Truly, sister, the uneasiness was not so 
 much at first as at last, and had we lived longer to- 
 gether, it must of necessity have grown worse, espe- 
 cially as the children grew up. 
 
 Vo. Sist. Indeed there you might have come to 
 clash in matters very essential to your peace. 
 
 JVid. Might have clashed ! do you say ? indeed, 
 sister, we must have clashed; it was unavoidable; it 
 could not be, that I could be easy to have the 
 children bred papists, or that he could have been 
 easy to have them bred, as he called it, heretics. 
 
 Vo. Sist. It was impossible indeed ; and the more 
 you were both settled and serious in your opinions, 
 the more impossible it would be for you to yield that 
 point to one another. 
 
 ffld. Why you know, sister, Mr. was a 
 
 very serious, grave man, and I assure you, in his 
 way, he was very devout ; and this made his yielding 
 to me sometimes to be very difficult to him ; he had 
 very strong struggles between his principles and his 
 aflfection. 
 
 £Id. Sist. Dear sister, it is always so where there 
 are differing opinions between a man and his wife ; 
 the more zealous and conscientious they are in their 
 several ways, the more difficult it is for them to 
 yield those points up to one another, which kind- 
 ness and affection may incline them to give up. But
 
 234 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 pray give us a little account of your first disputes 
 about these things. 
 
 IVid. 'Tis a sad story, sister, and will bring many 
 grievous things to remembrance. 
 
 EM. Sist. I should be very unwilling to impose so 
 irksome a task upon you ; but I think it will be very 
 instructing to us all. 
 
 Wid. Why it was not much above a fortnight 
 after we came home, as I observed to you, before I 
 discovered it, and the manner was thus : I won- 
 dered that every Sabbath-day my spouse contrived 
 some excuse or other to avoid going to church with 
 me ; I had taken some notice of it before we went 
 home, but the second Sabbath-day I took upon me 
 to desire him to go ; he seemed not to deny me, 
 and went into the coach with me, but pretended a 
 sudden thought, he was obliged to go up to St. 
 James's ; and having very civilly handed me out of 
 the coach, and gone with me into the very place, 
 made a light bow, when I could not stand to per- 
 suade, and went back. 
 
 Sist. What did he take the coach too, and leave 
 you to come home on foot ? 
 
 Wid. No, no ; he never showed me so little re- 
 spect as that ; he went but as far as Temple Bar 
 in the coach, and sent it back, charging the coach- 
 man to go and wait for his mistress, which he did : 
 this, however, troubled me a little, and I began to 
 be uneasy, though I knew not for what. 
 
 Sist. Why, my dear, did nothing occur to your 
 thoughts, as it did to ours, about his pictures, his 
 crucifixes, altar-pieces, and such things ? 
 
 Wid. No, not at all : I had heard my father say 
 it was the fashion in Italy ; and it being so remote 
 from my thoughts to imagine anything of what was 
 the real case, I had, indeed, no thoughts at all
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 235 
 
 about it, till the following affair alarmed me. I 
 was with him one day in our closet, and viewing 
 his fine things, the pictures, imagery, and other 
 rarities, of which he had abundance, and some 
 pieces of antiquity, that are of very great value : 
 he was mighty busy, and pleased in showing me 
 things, and telling me what they were ; for then 
 they were as new to me almost, as they were to you: 
 at last I went into the little room within his closet, 
 and looked upon all the fine things there, where you 
 know, sister, there are abundance of valuable pieces 
 of paintings. 
 
 Sist. Yes, indeed, 'tis a charming place. 
 
 Wid. Upon the table there stood two fine silver 
 candlesticks, gilded, with large wax candles in 
 them ; My dear, says I, like an innocent fool, these 
 candlesticks are very fine, I think they are much 
 finer than any we have about the house. 3Iy dear, 
 says he, if you had rather have them in your 
 closet, than to let them stand here, they shall be 
 removed. No my dear, said I, if we should want 
 them upon an extraordinary occasion, 'tis but bor- 
 rowing them of you. We said no more of that 
 then, but the next day he sent me in from a gold- 
 smith's in Drury-lane, two pair of candlesticks, 
 larger and finer than these, of very curious work- 
 manship, and all the high embossed work double 
 gilt. 
 
 Yo. Sist. So you had no need to grudge him 
 those he used in his closet any more. 
 
 Wid. No, indeed. But to go on : after I had 
 done speaking of the candlesticks, I laid my hands 
 upon a large piece of crimson damask, which 
 seemed to cover something that stood upon the 
 table, and standing up about seven or eight inches 
 high in the middle, looked as if there were several 
 things together ; and going to turn it up, I said,
 
 236 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 What is under here, my dear? but added, with 
 a smile, and thinking nothing of the matter, May I 
 look ? He smiled a little, but laying his hand upon 
 it too, said, I had rather not, my dear ; they are 
 things I brought from Italy, but nothing of orna- 
 ment. Well, well, says I, let it lie ; I don't desire 
 to look ; not I, and immediately turned to look at a 
 picture that hung near me, and all this while I was 
 so dull as to perceive nothing. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Your curiosity was not much, it 
 seems. 
 
 Wid. Innocence suspects nobody ; but a strange 
 turn in his countenance gave me an alarm which I 
 was not aware of; for there was a visible hurry 
 and confusion in his face, when he laid his hands 
 upon the piece of damask to prevent my taking it 
 up ; and on a sudden, when I so easily and uncon- 
 cernedly passed it off, all that chagrin went off his 
 countenance in a moment, and he was as bright and 
 as good-humoured again as ever ; and this made me 
 think afterwards that there was something in it more 
 than usual. 
 
 Eld. Sist. You must have been very dull if you 
 had not, seeing you perceived such a double altera- 
 tion ; and this would have heightened my desire to 
 inquire further into it. 
 
 Wid. Perhaps it did so too in me ; but I saw 
 evidently he was concerned ; and why should I 
 make him uneasy ? I could have passed a hundred 
 such things by, and have restrained my curiosity 
 while I had no suspicion. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Well, but what was this to the case ? 
 It seems here was no discovery then. 
 
 Wid. Yes, here was a discovery too, as it pre- 
 pared for further observation : I told you that the 
 next day he sent me home two pair of candlesticks, 
 which were indeed very fine ; and as I was admir-
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 237 
 
 ing them, I desired to have the other fetched down, 
 to compare them with ; upon which he made some 
 difficulty, and said he could not trust a servant to 
 go into his closet alone, when things of consequence 
 lay about ; But, my dear, says he, we will go up and 
 match them. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Well, that reason was just enough. 
 
 Wid. It was so ; and I went up with him into 
 his closet, but not into the inner room ; but I ob- 
 served just when he stepped in, he made an extra- 
 ordinary low bow towards that place where the 
 candlesticks stood. Indeed I took no notice of it 
 at first, for I verily thought he had stooped for 
 something, but when he carried the candlesticks in 
 again, he did the same, and that gave me some 
 thought. 
 
 Yo. Sist. That was a discovery indeed. 
 
 Wid. No, really it was not yet ; for I was a per- 
 fect stranger to any of their popish ceremonies, I 
 scarce understood it when I was told : but how- 
 ever, it gave me some idea of this being an extraor- 
 dinary place, though I did not know what ; and I 
 very innocently asked this foolish, laughing ques- 
 tion j My dear, you are mighty mannerly to your 
 I empty rooms, you bow as if the king was there. 
 He put it off with a smile, and an answer that was 
 indeed according to Solomon, Ansiver a fool in his 
 folly : My dear, says he, 'tis our custom in Italy. 
 
 Eld. Sist. He was no fool ; what he said was very 
 true. 
 
 Wid. Well, even all this while, and further, I 
 was still blind ; for a little after I pushed into the 
 same place with him, not out of curiosity, but 
 merely by chance ; but though the piece of crim- 
 son damask lay upon the table, yet there was 
 nothing under it, nor did he make any bow as 
 before.
 
 238 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Vo. Sisf. No, my dear, there was no need of it 
 then ; for to be sure the idol was removed. 
 
 TVid. Well, however, as that was more than I 
 knew, it caused all my former hesitations and ob- 
 servations to vanish, till they were renewed again 
 upon the following occasion : he was taken ill one 
 evening, in a manner that alarmed me very much, 
 and we were obliged to get him to bed with all 
 speed ; but just as he was undressing by the bed- 
 side, he started up in a kind of rapture, and pulling 
 a string which drew back a curtain, he cast up his 
 eyes towards a picture that hung there, and said 
 some words which I did not understand, and I per- 
 ceived he crossed himself two or three times on the 
 breast, and then stepped into bed. 
 
 Fa. To one that had lived in Italy this had been 
 no novelty at all. 
 
 TFid. No, sir, I understand it well enough now, 
 but I did not then ; however, it was so plain then, 
 that it needed no explanation to me ; but it was 
 such a surprise to me, that I thought I should have 
 fainted : my heart sunk within me, and with a sigh, 
 said I to myself, O Lord ! I am undone ! I thought 
 I had spoken so softly, that nothing could have 
 overheard me ; but yet so unhappy was my passion, 
 that he heard the last words, and raising his voice, 
 My dear, says he, hastily, what's the matter? What 
 art thou undone for ? I made him no answer, which 
 increased his eagerness to know what ailed me ; 
 but I declined it. At last, pressing me still, I an- 
 swered. My dear, excuse me for the present, I am a 
 little frighted ; with which he rings a little bell, 
 that I used to ring for my woman, and she being 
 but in the next room, came running in : I bid her 
 fetch me a little bottle out of my closet, and taking 
 a few drops rather by a counterfeit illness than a 
 real, put an end to his inquiry, and got him to sleep
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 239 
 
 Eld. Sist. I should e'en have charged him with it 
 downright, and have raved at him for a rogue, that 
 had cheated and deluded me. 
 
 Wid. Indeed, sister, I did not do so ; I was 
 oppressed with the terror of it, and the disappoint- 
 ment, but my affection stept in the way of all re- 
 sentment ; I loved him tenderly ; and besides, it 
 was not a time for it ; for he was really very ill, and 
 thought he should have died ; it was a spice or 
 taste of the same distemper that did at last kill him, 
 for it was a pleurisy : and after he had slept a little, 
 he waked again in such a condition that frighted 
 all the house, and we were forced to fetch a surgeon 
 out of his bed to let him blood. 
 
 Sist. Well, that relieved him, I hope. 
 
 Wid. Yes, it did ; but I name it to tell you a 
 circumstance which attended it : we had in the 
 house an old man, an Italian, whom he always kept 
 in the counting-house to copy his letters, and trans- 
 late his Italian accounts, and for such other busi- 
 ness as he employed him in ; and they called him 
 doctor : the surgeon we had sent for, being in bed, 
 did not come time enough, and he grew black, and 
 desperately ill, which frighted me exceedingly ; and 
 when he saw I was under a surprise, he made signs 
 (for he could not speak to be understood, he was so 
 bad) to call up the old Italian. When he came 
 into the room, he held out his arm, and pointing at 
 it with his finger, every one might understand that 
 he meant he should let him blood : upon which, 
 immediately the old man called for things proper, 
 and I found he had a lancet in his pocket ; I asked 
 him if he had been used to it : he said. Yes, madam, 
 I have let him blood several times before now. In 
 a word, he opened a vein, and it gave him ease, 
 and he recovered soon after.
 
 240 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Fa. I'll lay a hundred pound, then, that doctor is 
 a priest. 
 
 Wid. Yes, sir, he is so; and I knew it quickly after. 
 
 Fa. And after he knew that you understood it, 
 did he not besiege you with his discourses and im- 
 portunities, my dear, to turn ? 
 
 Wid. No really ; at least not so as I believe is 
 usual ; he frequently let fall some words about it, 
 but with great modesty ; for he was really a very 
 good sort of a man, exceeding retired and devout ; 
 very mannerly and respectful: he spoke once at 
 table, (for sometimes my spouse would ask me to 
 let him sup with us,) and we had been talking very 
 cheerfully, when the doctor said something in 
 Italian to his master, that gave me plain reasons to 
 know that he desired I should know what he said ; 
 upon which my spouse said to me. My dear, what 
 do you think the doctor says ? I don't know, but I 
 am sure it is about me. Yes, says he, so it is ; and 
 he says I must tell you what it is, or else you will 
 think he is unmannerly, to speak anything in a lan- 
 guage you do not understand. Well, pray, said I, 
 what is it he says ? What pity is it, said my 
 spouse, such a fine genius as my lady your wife is, 
 should not be within the pale of the catholic church ! 
 While my spouse was telling me this, he looked 
 very earnestly at him to observe when he repeated 
 the words, and just as he repeated them, the good 
 old father lift up his eyes, and said some words 
 softly, but with great appearance of seriousness, 
 which, it seems, was to pray to Christ to convert me ; 
 and my spouse looking very seriously too, crossed 
 himself, and said Amen. 
 
 Yo. Sist. This was dangerous work indeed, sister ; 
 for the more serious they were in it, the more it 
 would have affected me.
 
 EELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 241 
 
 Wid, Indeed so it did me ; I answered my 
 husband, My dear, I hope I am ; and if I thought I 
 was not, I would not sleep till I was. At which 
 the doctor, my spouse repeating the words to him, 
 shook his head, and said, No, no ! signifying that 
 to be sure I was not ; and added, he hoped God 
 would hear his prayers for me ; but this was the 
 most that ever he offered that way. 
 
 Fa. Well, that was nothing but what any man, 
 who thought himself in the right, might do, and 
 very modestly too. 
 
 Wid. Indeed, he always kept himself rather at a 
 greater distance than we desired. 
 
 Yo. Sist. Well, but pray go back to the story. 
 
 Wid. Why, I told you my husband recovered 
 from his illness ; but it was otherwise with me ; for 
 being now fully satisfied that my spouse was a 
 papist, it cast me down to that degree, and over- 
 whelmed my spirits, that I was scarce able to bear 
 it, and especially for want of somebody to lodge my 
 thoughts with, and open my soul to. 
 
 Eld. Sist. AMiy, did you not charge him with it 
 point-blank ? Did he not perceive your disorder ? 
 
 Wid. He did to be sure, and pressed me, with 
 the utmost tenderness and importunity, to let him 
 know what grieved me. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Ay, and I should have told him of it in 
 his ears. 
 
 Wid. Dear sister, you are too tender a wife your- 
 self not to know that where there is a sincere affec- 
 tion, even the highest resentment expresses itself 
 in the softest terms. I could afflict myself freely, 
 but I could not think of afflicting him ; and though 
 I do acknowledge I thought myself ill-treated, yet I 
 could not use him ill in return. 
 
 Sist. Come, tell us what you said to him. 
 
 Wid. Why, when he pressed me to let him know 
 E. c. R
 
 242 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 what disturbed me. I told him I had rather bear my 
 grief than complain to him ; that I was too sensible 
 he knew what I meant, when I said I was undone ; 
 and I begged him not to oblige me to blame him, 
 for not having been just to me. Why, my dear, 
 says he, why are you undone ? if your opinion in 
 religion and mine may differ, must it affect our 
 love ? cannot we be dear to one another without 
 entering into disputes of that kind ? Yes, said I, 
 my dear, I know better than to enter into disputes 
 with you ; but I must reckon myself undone for all 
 that. Tears stopped my very breath for awhile, for 
 this was an open acknowledgment of his profession ; 
 and I would fain have flattered myself so much, as 
 to hope there was yet some room to have thought 
 myself mistaken. When he saw me so overwhelmed, 
 he came to me, and took me in his arms, and said 
 all the kind things it is possible to think of, to pa- 
 cify me : My dear, says he, though you may think 
 this a grief to you, expect to have it made up 
 abundantly, by all that it is possible for man to do 
 to oblige you : and indeed if all the affectionate 
 things a man could say or do, could make it up, it 
 was made up to me : if it was possible for man to 
 do anything to make a woman forget her disap- 
 pointment, he did it ; and this from a man too, 
 who had a perfect understanding of everything that 
 could oblige and engage the affections : in a word, 
 no man could do more, or woman desire more, to 
 make up the loss. 
 
 Eld. Sist, Well, sister, and pray tell me, did it 
 do ? Was it fully made up to you ? Is it possible 
 that two can be happy in the condition of man and 
 wife, where opinions in religion differ ? You have 
 had the experience of it to be sure in its best for- 
 tune, with all the advantages imaginable. Now be 
 plain, and tell us is it possible the conjugal felicity
 
 KELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 243 
 
 can be complete? Was our dear mother in the 
 right or no, sister ? 
 
 fVid. Indeed, sister, you put hard upon me, be- 
 cause I know I too much slighted my mother's in- 
 junctions ; and I remember I jested with you about 
 it, but I paid for the experiment. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Dear sister, those things are forgotten 
 long ago ; I did not intend to reflect upon them ; 
 but 1 ask upon a serious account, I assure you. 
 
 Wid. Why, truly, sister, I must acknowledge it 
 impossible. No kindness, no tenderness, no affec- 
 tion, can make it up; the condition can never be 
 happy, God faithfully served, children rightly edu- 
 cated, the mind perfectly easy, or the duty of the 
 relation faithfully performed, where the opinions in 
 religion differ. 
 
 Eld. Sist. I am of opinion also, that it would have 
 been the same, though your difference had not been 
 so great as that of papist and protestant. 
 
 Wid. Ay, ay, all one ! for we never entered into 
 the question about our principles ; I resolved it 
 from the beginning, to avoid bringing on anything 
 that might be unkind or disobliging between us, 
 and he approved it, and did the same for the same 
 reason ; so that I never, after the first discourse, 
 so much as inquired what his opinion was. It was 
 sufficient to have the grief that we could not wor- 
 ship God together, either abroad or at home ; we 
 could not think of one another with charity, but as 
 deceived persons, out of the way of eternal felicity, 
 out of God's blessing and protection ; we could not 
 look upon one another but with sighs and sad hearts. 
 Again, we could never converse with one another 
 upon religious subjects, for we would not enter upon 
 the least serious thing but it led us into contradic- 
 tions and wild distracted notions, which we were 
 immediately forced to take the help of our affec- 
 
 e2
 
 ^44 KELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 tions to suppress, that we might not break out into 
 indecencies to one another. 
 
 Yo. Sisf. Well, sister, and what became of your 
 
 smart answers to my sister , when she and you 
 
 talked of these things, viz., that if he was not of 
 your opinion, you would be of his ; that if he was a 
 Christian catholic you was a catholic Christian ; 
 and so you would have no difference about that ? 
 
 PFid. Why truly, sister, I was young, and did 
 not consider what I said ; and, besides, I did not in 
 the least suspect what my sister suggested ; and yet 
 so far I have kept up to it, we have by the help of 
 abundance of good-humour on both sides, and a 
 great deal of love on both sides, avoided differences 
 and disputes upon that subject. But alas ! sister, 
 that's but a negative, and it can only be said we did 
 not quarrel, which is a great deal to say too ; but 
 what's this to a happy life ? How was our family 
 guided, our children educated, and how would they 
 have been educated if he had lived ! And how was 
 God worshipped ! He and his priest at their mass in 
 the oratory or chapel ; I and my little unhappy babies 
 in my chamber and closet, where I mourned over 
 them continually, rather than prayed over them, to 
 think that some time or other they should be 
 snatched from me and brought up in popery ; nor 
 would it have been much otherwise, if he had been 
 of any other irreconcileable opinion ; for, as I told 
 you before, though I knew his opinion, I never 
 asked it ; for any opinion, where there is not a 
 harmony in worshipping, a joining in public prayer 
 to God, and in joint serving him in our families, is 
 the same thing, only not in the same extreme. 
 
 Yo. Sist. Well, but had you no private breaches 
 about it ? 
 
 JVid. No, never ; we carefully avoided it. But 
 this is but an evidence of the dreadful consequences
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 245 
 
 of such marriages in general ; For where is there a 
 couple that can say, as we could, that they have had 
 no jars about it ? And what breaches have religi- 
 ous differences made in families ? But if the happi- 
 ness is so little, and the evil consequences so many, 
 even with a husband so exquisitely kind and oblig- 
 ing, and where a woman cannot say she has any 
 one other thing to complain of, what must be the 
 case in other families ? 
 
 Vo. Sist. But, sister, you hint that the longer 
 you lived, the worse those differences grew. 
 
 PTid. Why it was impossible, sister, but as we 
 grew forward, these things must have come more in 
 
 our way. We have four children, and Mr. 
 
 was not a man so indifferent in his religion, as to be 
 more careless about the souls of his children, that I 
 assure you ; and though he left them entirely to my 
 management when they were little, yet he would 
 hint sometimes, that he hoped I would leave them 
 free when they grew up, to choose for themselves 
 as God should enlighten them ; and that at least we 
 should both stand neuter. 
 
 Vo. Sist. What could you say to that ? 
 Wid. J told him I could not tell how far I could 
 promise that ; for if I thought myself in the right 
 way to heaven, I could but ill answer it to Him that 
 gave me my children, to stand still and see them go 
 wrong, and not endeavour to persuade them, at 
 least, to choose better for themselves. He told me 
 that was an argument just as strong on his side as 
 it was on mine. And, he added, smiling, how 
 shall we do then to agree, my dear, when it comes 
 to that ? I hope we shall not love less than we do 
 now. I told him I had a great many melancholy 
 thoughts about it ; and thus at last we were always 
 fain to drop the discourse ; but to this hour I can- 
 not conceive how we should have done to have
 
 246 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 divided our children's instruction between us, if lie 
 had lived to see them grow up. 
 
 Fa. Well, my dear, God has otherwise ordered it; 
 and I hope the children will have the benefit of a 
 good instruction now, without that interruption. 
 
 Wid. Alas ! sir, I perceive you do not know their 
 case yet ; and this is a remaining grief to me that 
 I have not mentioned. 
 
 Fa. What's that, child ? 
 
 Wid. Why, sir, by his will he has appointed the 
 old priest, whom I named above, to be tutor to my 
 two sons, and has settled his estate so, that unless 
 the trustees bring them up Roman catholics, a 
 great deal of the estate goes from them ; so that 
 I am to be robbed of my children. 
 
 Fa. I am surprised at that. Why I never heard 
 a word of it ! And what has he done then with his 
 two daughters ? 
 
 Wid. He has left them to me. 
 
 Fa. Did you know this before, child? Had you 
 any discourse about it before he died ? 
 
 Wid. Yes, sir, as much as the violence of his 
 distemper would admit ; I entreated, I persuaded, 
 I argued, as much as tears and my oppressed 
 thoughts would allow me ; for I thought my heart 
 would have burst while I talked to him, to see his 
 condition, whom I loved as my own soul, and to 
 think what was to befall my children ; you can 
 hardly conceive what a time it was to me ; it 
 wounds my very spirit to look back upon it. 
 
 Eld. Sist. It was a very bitter thing, no donbt 5 
 but what said he to you ? 
 
 Wid. He begged of me not to importune him. 
 He told me it was far from being unkindness to 
 me, but his conscience obliged him to it, and he 
 could not die in peace if he did not, as far as in him 
 lay, provide for the souls of his children.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 247 
 
 Fa. Why if it was his conscience, how came it to 
 pass he did not do the like by his daughters ? 
 
 Wid. Why he said, he thought I had a right to 
 their government, as a half of the family ; For, my 
 dear, says he, we are partners ; but, says he, I 
 entreat you, and, as far as I am able to do it, enjoin 
 you to it, let the poor innocent babes be reconciled 
 to the church, and brought up in the catholic faith; 
 and I hope you will in God's due time embrace it 
 yourself 
 
 Yo. Sist. What was you able to say to him ? 
 JVid. I bless God I made no promise about my 
 children ; nor, indeed, was I able to speak to him 
 for grief, for he was in such agonies, that my heart 
 could not hold to stay by him ; and the next morn- 
 ing he died : and now I am a dreadful example of 
 the miserable condition of a married state where 
 principles of religion differ, though with the best 
 husband in the world. 
 
 Fa. But, my dear, do not afflict yourself now 
 about your sons. 
 
 Wid. Not afflict myself, sir ! is that possible ? 
 Fa. Yes, yes ; they shall not be bred up papists, 
 I'll assure you, for all that he has done to bring it 
 to pass. 
 
 IVid. Alas, sir ! they will be taken away from me. 
 Fa. NO;, no ; nor shall they be taken away from 
 you neither ; our laws give you a right to the bring- 
 ing up your own children ; and as for the doctor, 
 I'll engage he shall give you no disturbance ; he 
 knows his own circumstances, and I'll take care that 
 he shall take it for a favour to be concealed here, 
 and leave all to you. 
 
 Wid. But then the estate will go from my chil- 
 dren too. 
 
 Fa. Perhaps not, neither ; but if it should, you 
 have enough for them.
 
 248 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Wid. Well, that's none of my care ; let me but 
 keep them from a wrong education, I'll willingly 
 leave that part to fall as it will. 
 
 Yo. Sist. But, dear sister, did Mr. never try 
 
 you by arguments to bring you over to him ? 
 
 Wid. Only by all that he could ever advise, ex- 
 cept as I said before : for I must do that justice to 
 his memory, that he never offered anything that 
 was rough, or threatening, or limiting, or unkind ; 
 but all on the contrary, to the highest extreme. 
 
 Vo. Sist. That was the effect of his extraordi- 
 nary good breeding, and his being so much a gen- 
 tleman. 
 
 JVid. Not that altogether, sister, though that 
 might join ; but it was the effect of an excellent dis- 
 position, and of an inexpressible affection to me in 
 particular ; for otherwise he was the most zealous 
 man, in his way, that ever was heard of, and thought 
 everybody an enemy to him that would not be of his 
 own opinion. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Did he never go about to bribe you to 
 it? 
 
 JVid. O sister ! very frequently, and that with 
 all the subtelty of invention in the world ; for he 
 was always giving me presents upon that very ac- 
 count. 
 
 Fa. Presents to a wife ! what do they signify? 'tis 
 but taking his money out of one pocket and putting 
 it into the other ; they must all be appraised, child, 
 in the personal estate. 
 
 JVid. It has been quite otherwise with him, in- 
 deed, sir ; for he has made it a clause in his will, 
 that all the presents he gave me shall be my own, 
 to bestow how I please ; besides all the rest that he 
 has left me more than he was obliged to do. 
 
 JEld. Sist. Then they seem to be considerable. 
 
 Wid. He has, first and last, given me above 3000/.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 249 
 
 in presents, and most of them on this very account? 
 but one was very extraordinary, I mean to that pur-i 
 pose. 
 
 Eld. Sist. I suppose that is your diamond cross. 
 
 Wid. It is so ; he brought it home in a little 
 case, and coming into my room one morning before 
 I was dressed, hearing I was alone, he told me, 
 smiling, and very pleasant, he was come to say his 
 prayers to me : I confess I had been a little out of 
 humour just at that time, having been full of sad 
 thoughts all the morning about the grand point, and 
 I was going to have given him a very unkind an- 
 swer, but his looks had so much goodness and ten- 
 derness always in them, that when I looked up at 
 him I could retain no more resentment : indeed, 
 sister, it was impossible to be angry with him. 
 
 Eld. Sist. You might well be in humour, indeed, 
 when he brought you a present worth above six 
 hundred pounds. 
 
 Wid. But I had not seen the present when what 
 I am telling you passed between us. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Well, I ask pardon for interrupting 
 yoxx ; pray go on where you left off, when he told 
 you he was come to say his prayers to you. 
 
 Wid. I told him I hoped he would not make an 
 idol of his wife. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Was that the ill-natured answer you 
 were about to give him ? 
 
 Wid. No, indeed ; I was going to tell him he 
 need not worship me, he had idols enough in the 
 house. 
 
 Eld. Sist. That had been bitter and unkind, in- 
 deed ; I hope you did not say so. 
 
 Wid. Indeed I did not ; nor would I have said so 
 for a thousand pounds ; it would have grieved me 
 every time 1 had reflected on it afterwards as long 
 as I had lived.
 
 250 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Eld. SisL It was so very apt a return, I dare say 
 I should not have brought my prudence to have 
 mastered the pleasure of such a repartee. 
 
 Wid. Dear sister, 'tis a sorry pleasure that is 
 taken in grieving a kind husband ; besides, sister, as 
 it was my great mercy that my husband strove con- 
 stantly to make his difference in religion as little 
 troublesome and offensive to me as possible, it would 
 very ill have become me to make it my jest ; it had 
 been a kind of bespeaking the uneasinesses which 
 it was my happiness to avoid. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Well, you had more temper than I 
 should have had, I dare say ; but I must own you 
 were in the right : come, pray how did you go on ? 
 
 Wid. Why he answered he hoped he worshipped 
 no idols but me ; and if he erred in that point, who- 
 ever reproved him, he hoped I would not. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Why that's true too : besides, 'tis not i 
 so often that men make idols of their wives. 
 
 Wid. Well, while he was saying this he pulls out i 
 the jewel, and opening the case, takes a small crim- 
 son string that it hung to, and put it about my neck, 
 but kept the jewel in his hand so that I could not' 
 see it ; and then taking me in his arms, Sit down, 
 my dear, says he ; which I did upon a little stool : 
 then he kneeled down just before me, and kissing ^ 
 the jewel, let it go, saying something in Italian, 
 which I did not understand, and then looking up in 
 my face. Now, my dear, says he, you are my idol. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Well, sister, 'tis well he is dead. 
 
 Wid. Dear sister, how can you say such words to 
 me! 
 
 Eld. Sist. He would certainly have conquered 1; 
 you at last. 
 
 Wid. If the tenderest and most engaging temper, ,» 
 the sincerest and warmest affection in nature, could Is 
 have done it, he would have done it, that's certain.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 251 
 
 Eld. Sist. And I make no doubt but they are the 
 most dangerous weapons to attack a woman's prin- 
 ciples ; I cannot but think them impossible to resist: 
 passion, unkindness, and all sorts of conjugal vio- 
 lence, of which there is a great variety in a married 
 life, are all nothing to them : you remember, sister, 
 some lines on another occasion, but very much to 
 .the case : 
 
 Force may, indeed, the heart invade, 
 But kindness only can persuade. 
 
 Wid. I grant that 'tis difficult to resist the influ- 
 ence of so much affection ; and everything that 
 came from so sincere a principle, and to a mind 
 prepossessed with all the sentiments of tenderness 
 and kindness possible to be expressed, made a deep 
 impression : but I thank God I stood my ground. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Well, well, you would not have stood 
 it long, I am persuaded ; and this is one of the great 
 hazards a woman runs in marrying a man of a dif- 
 fering religion, or a differing opinion from herself, 
 viz., that her affection to her husband is her worst 
 snare ; and so that which is her duty, and her 
 greatest happiness, is made the most dangerous 
 gulf she can fall into : well might our dear mother 
 warn us from marrying men of different opinions. 
 
 Wid. It is very true, I acknowledge it ; my love 
 was my temptation, my affection to my husband 
 went always nearest to stagger my resolution : I 
 was in no danger upon any other account. 
 
 Vo. Sist. Well, but pray go on about the jewel; 
 what said you to him ? 
 
 Wid. Truly, sister, I'll be very plain with you ; 
 when he kissed the jewel on his knees, and muttered, 
 as I tell you, in Italian, I was rather provoked than 
 obliged ; and I said, I think you are saying your
 
 252 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 prayers indeed, my dear; tell me wliat you ar6 
 doing. What did you say ? 
 
 Yo. Sist. Indeed I should have been frighted. 
 
 PTid. Dear sister, let me confess to you, fine pre- 
 sents, flattering words, and the affectionate looks of 
 so obliging, so dear, and so near a relation, are 
 dreadful things, when they assault principles; the 
 glittering jewel had a strange influence, and my af- 
 fections began to be too partial on his side : O let no 
 woman that values her soul venture into the arms 
 of a husband of a different religion ! the kinder he 
 is, the more likely to undo her ; everything that 
 endears him to her, doubles her danger ; the more 
 she loves him, the more she inclines to yield to him; 
 the more he loves her, the stronger are the bonds 
 by which he draws her ; and her only mercy would 
 be to have him barbarous and unkind to her. 
 
 Yo. Sist. It is indeed a sad case, where to be 
 miserable is the only safety ; but so it is, no doubt ; 
 and such is the case of every woman that is thus 
 unsuitably matched : if her husband is kind, he is a 
 snare to her ; if unkind, he is a terror to her ; his 
 love, which is his duty, is her ruin ; and his slighting 
 her, which is his scandal, is her protection. j 
 
 IVid. It was my case, dear sister; such a jewel! 
 such a husband! how could I speak an unkind word? 
 everything he did was so engaging, everything he 
 said was so moving, what could I say or do ? 
 
 Eld. Sist. Very true ; and that makes me say he 
 would have conquered you at last. 
 
 TVid. Indeed I can't tell what he might have done 
 if he had lived. 
 
 Yo. Sist. Well, but to the jewel : what said you 
 to him ? 
 
 IVid. I stood up and thanked him with a kind of 
 ceremony, but told him I wished it had been rather 
 in any other form. Why, my dear, says he, should
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 253 
 
 bot the two most valuable forms in the world be 
 J)laced together? I told him that as he placed a 
 religious value upoa it, he should have it rather in 
 another place. He told me my breast should be 
 his altar ; and so he might adore with a double de- 
 light : I told him I thought he was a little profane, 
 and since I did not place the same value upon it, or 
 make the same use of it, as he did, I might give him 
 offence by mere necessity, and make that difference 
 which we had both avoided with so much care, 
 break in upon us in a case not to be resisted. He 
 answered. No, my dear, I am not going to bribe 
 your principles, much less force them: put you what 
 value you think fit upon it, and give me the liberty. 
 I told him I hoped I should not undervalue it as his 
 present, if I did not overvalue it upon another ac- 
 count. He returned warmly. My dear, the last is 
 impossible ; and for the first, 'tis a trifle ; give it but 
 leave to hang where I have placed it, and that's all 
 the respect I ask you to show it on my account. 
 
 Vo. Sist. Well, that was a favour you would not 
 deny if a stranger had given it you. 
 
 Wid. Dear sister, you are a stranger to the case ; 
 if you had seen what was the consequence of it, you 
 would have been frighted, or perhaps have fallen 
 quite out with him. 
 
 Vo. Sist. I cannot imagine what consequences 
 you mean. 
 
 Wid. Why, first of all, he told me that now he 
 would be perfectly easy about my salvation, and 
 would cease to pursue me with arguments or entrea- 
 ties in religious matters. 
 
 Yo. Sist. What could he mean by that ? 
 
 fVid. Why he said he was sure that blessed 
 form that hung so near my heart, would have a mi- 
 raculous influence some time or other, and I should
 
 254 KELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 be brought home into the bosom of the catholic 
 church. 
 
 Yo. Sist. Well I should have ventured all that, 
 and have slighted the very thoughts of it. 
 
 TVid. You cannot imagine what stress he laid on 
 it ; now, he said, every good catholic that saw me 
 but pass by them, would pray for me ; and that 
 every one in particular would exorcise me by the 
 passion of Christ out of the chains of heresy. 
 
 Yo. Sisf. What said you to him ? 
 
 TVid. I put it off with a smile, but my heart was 
 full, I scarce knew how to hold ; and he perceived 
 it easily, and broke off the talk a little ; but he fell 
 to it again, till he saw the tears stood in my eyes, 
 when he took me in his arms, and kissed me again; 
 kissed my neck where the cross hung, and then 
 kissed the jewel, repeating the word Jesu two or 
 thee times, and left me. 
 
 JEld. SisL This was all superstition, sister; I 
 should not have borne it ; I would have thrown the 
 jewel in his face, or on the ground, and have set my 
 foot on it. 
 
 JVid. No, sister, you would not have done so, I 
 am sure ; neither was it my business to do so ; my 
 business was not to quarrel with my husband about 
 his religion, which it was now too late to help, but 
 to keep him from being uneasy about mine. 
 
 Eld. Sist I should not have had so much patience ; 
 I would not have lived with him ; I do not think it 
 had been my duty. 
 
 Wid. Nay, sister, that's expressly contrary to the 
 Scripture, where this very case is stated in the 
 plainest manner imaginable, The woman that hath 
 a husband that helieveth not, if he ivill dicell with 
 her, let her not leave him, 1 Cor. vii. 13. 
 
 Eld. Sist. That's true indeed ; I spoke rashly,
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 255 
 
 sister, in that ; but it was a case, I confess, I do not 
 know what I should have done in it ; I would not 
 have bore it then. 
 
 IVid. That had been very disobliging. 
 £ld. Sisf. I would have obliged him to have fore- 
 borne his little idolatrous tricks then, and used them 
 on other occasions. 
 
 Wid. That had been to desire him not to be a 
 Roman catholic : why, in foreign countries that are 
 popish, as I understand, they never go by a cross, 
 whether it be on the road, or on any building, but 
 what they pull off their hats. 
 
 Fa. So they do, my dear, and often kneel down, 
 though it be in the dirt, and say over their prayers. 
 TVid. It is impossible to tell you how many at- 
 tacks I had of that kind when I wore this jewel. 
 
 Fa. I do not doubt of it ; especially if he brought 
 any strangers into the room : how did you do, child, 
 when the Venetian ambassador dined at your house? 
 had you it on then ? 
 
 PVid. Yes, sir, my spouse desired me to put it on, 
 and I could not well deny him : but I did not know 
 how to behave ; for the ambassador and all his 
 retinue paid so many bows and homages to me, or 
 to the cross, that I scarce knew what to do with 
 myself, nor was I able to distinguish their good 
 manners from their religion ; and it was well I did 
 not then understand Italian, for, as my dear told 
 me afterwards, they said a great many religious 
 things that would have given me offence. 
 
 Fa. Those things are so frequent in Italy, that 
 the protestant ladies take no notice of them, and 
 yet they all wear crosses, but sometimes put them 
 out of sight. 
 
 IFid. I did so afterwards; I lengthened the string 
 it hung to, that it might hang a little lower ; but it 
 was too big ; if it went within my stays it would hurt
 
 256 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 me : nor was it much odds to him ; for if he saw 
 the string he knew the cross was there, and it was 
 all one. 
 
 Yo. Sist Did he use any ceremony to it after the 
 first time ? 
 
 FTid. Always when he first came into any room 
 where I was he was sure to give me his knee with 
 his bow, and kiss the cross as well as his wife. 
 
 JSld. Sist. I should never have borne it. 
 
 Wid. You could never have resisted it more than 
 I, for I did what I could ; but his answer was clear, 
 My dear, says he, take no notice of me, let my civil- 
 ities be to you, take them all to yourself; I cannot 
 phow you too much respect : believe it is all your 
 own, and be easy with me. 
 
 Eld. Sist. How could he bid you believe what 
 you knew to be otherwise ? why did you not leave 
 >t off, and reproach him with the difference ? 
 
 Wid. Dear sister, I did so for months together : 
 but then he doubled his ceremonies, and told me I 
 only mortified him, then, by obliging him to rever- 
 ence the place where once the blessed figure had 
 been lodged, as the holy pilgrims worshipped the 
 sepulchre. 
 
 Eld. Sist. He was too hard for you every way, 
 sister. 
 
 Wid. Ay, and would have been too hard for you 
 too, if you had had him. 
 
 Eld. Sist. It is my mercy that I had him not. 
 
 Wid. Well, it was my mercy too, that, as I had 
 him, I had less inconvenience with the unhappy cir- 
 cumstance than I must have had, perhaps, with any 
 other man of his principles in the world. 
 
 Eld. Sist. That's true ; only this I must add, viz., 
 that those engaging ways would certainly, first or 
 last, have brought you to popery. 
 
 Wid. I hope not, sister ; but I cannot say, when
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 257 
 
 I seriously reflect on it, how far I might have been 
 led. 
 
 Fa. My dear, let me ask you a question or two 
 about that : I know the first method they take in 
 such cases is to let you see that you have been mis- 
 taken in your notions about popery ; that the differ- 
 ence is not so great as has been suggested unto you ; 
 that we are all Christians ; that we worship the 
 same God, believe the same creed, expect eternal 
 life by the merits of the same Saviour, and the like; 
 and by this method they bring us at first not to 
 have such frightful ideas of the Roman catholic re- 
 ligion as we had before. 
 
 Wid. That's true ; and this I had frequently in 
 discoiu-se ; and 1 confess such discourse had some 
 effect on me. 
 
 Yo. Sist. It lessened the aversion you had to them, 
 no doubt. 
 
 JVid. It's true they became not so frightful to me 
 as before ; but they had another argument which 
 my dear often used to me, and it was this : My dear, 
 says he, all your own divines, and all that have 
 written on these subjects, own that a papist, as you 
 call us, may be saved, that it is possible for us to go 
 to heaven ; our church have no room to believe so 
 of the protestants : why, if you may go to heaven 
 among us, should you not join with us ? 
 
 Eld. Sist. I know not what answer I should have 
 given to that. 
 
 PFid. I know not what your answer would have 
 been, but I'll tell you what mine was ; I told him I 
 did not know but it might be so, and I was willing 
 to have as much charity as I had aflPection for him ; 
 but as for myself, I was sure 1 could not go to 
 heaven that way, because I must act against my own 
 light. 
 
 R. C. S
 
 258 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Vo. Sist. That was the true answer, indeed : what 
 could he say to it ? 
 
 Wid. Then he told me he would pray for me, that 
 I might be further enlightened ; and he did not 
 doubt but to prevail : I thanked him, and told him 
 I would do the same for him, and that though per- 
 haps it might not be with so strong a faith, I was 
 sure it would be with as earnest a desire. 
 
 Jo. Sist. Well, you stood your ground nobly, 
 sister ; but 'tis a mercy to you that your persever- 
 ance was tried no further : 'tis a dreadful thing to 
 have so dangerous an enemy so near one. 
 
 fVid. It's true, there lay my danger ; for, I must 
 own, words spoken with so much tenderness have a 
 singular effect, and sink deeper in the mind, than 
 others, especially where the affection is so mutual as 
 it was with us. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Why, sister, do you think, in time, his 
 tenderness, and his affectionate way of treating you, 
 would not have abated ? 
 
 Wid. I often feared it, but indeed I never found 
 it ; sometimes I suggested it to him that 1 feared it ; 
 and one day I told him that if I did not turn, I was 
 afraid he would. He guessed what I meant, but 
 would have me explain myself; Why, my dear, says 
 I, when I reflect what your thoughts are about pro- 
 testants, that they are out of the pale of the church, 
 and in a condition that they cannot be saved, I can- 
 not but apprehend that if I do not come over to 
 your opinion, your love to me will abate, and at last 
 turn into a stated aversion and hatred. How can 
 you love an object which you think God hates ? 
 My dear, says he, taking me very affectionately in 
 his arms, I will prevent all your fears by telling you, 
 that were what you mention possible, it could not 
 be till I utterly despaired of your ever being brought 
 
 <
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 259 
 
 over to the church ; and I shall never be brought 
 to believe but God will open your eyes first or last : 
 and, besides, my earnest desire to persuade you, and 
 win you to embrace the true religion, will teach me 
 to do it by all the tenderness and love that it is 
 possible for me to show you ; for to be unkind to 
 you would be the way to drive you further off : but 
 be it as it will, I can never abate my affection to 
 you ; and, my dear, says he, with the most obliging, 
 passionate air of concern that it was possible to 
 show, I hope that to love you tenderly and violently 
 is not the way to keep you at a distance from the 
 church, but rather to draw you, to engage you, and 
 let you see that peace, love, joy, charity, and all the 
 virtues of a Christian, are to be found among us, 
 and not that we are furies and tyrants, as we have 
 been represented. And when he had said this, 
 holding me still in his armiS, he kissed me several 
 times, and went on : My dear, says he, let God 
 alone change your heart his own way ; I'll never 
 take any method but that of loving you sincerely 
 and most passionately, while I live, and praying for 
 you even after I am in heaven. While he said 
 this I saw such an inexpressible tenderness in his 
 countenance, and every word came from him with 
 such passion, that I could not hold from tears ; but 
 he had not done with me yet, for, while he held me 
 in one arm, he put his other hand in his pocket, 
 and taking out his pocket-book, he bid me open it, 
 and there dropped out a loose paper, doubled pretty 
 thick, which I took up, and went to put it in again : 
 Take that paper, my dear, says he, and put it up ; 
 you shall have a pledge for the continuance of my 
 affection to you, whether you change your opinion 
 or no. I opened it, but could read very little of it, 
 for I had but newly begun to learn Italian. What 
 is it, my dear ? said I. It is, said he, an assignment
 
 260 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 on the bank of Genoa for two thousand ducats 
 a year, and it shall be made over to your father in 
 trust for you, and to whoever you will bestow it 
 after you. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Well, sister, I would never tell this story 
 to any protestant lady that was in the least danger 
 of marrying a Roman. 
 
 Fa. Why, child, if her story be told with it, I 
 think it may be told to advantage. 
 
 Eld. Sist. It may teach them, indeed, to pray. 
 Lead us not into temptation. Well, sister, I must 
 repeat what I have said before to you, though it 
 does grieve you ; 'tis your great mercy that he is 
 dead. 
 
 Wid. O do not speak such a word, sister ; it 
 wounds my very soul. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Pray answer me this short question, 
 then : Would you marry such another papist ? 
 
 Wid. There's not such another upon earth, sister ; 
 and besides, how can you name the word ? that's 
 the unkindest thing you could think of: I must 
 break off the discourse. 
 
 Eld. Sist. Do not call it unkind ; I do not mean 
 it the way you take it. Suppose things at the re- 
 motest distance you can, or suppose it to be any 
 other body's case, would you advise any other per- 
 son that had such an offer, I say, would you advise 
 them to marry such another ? 
 
 Wid. No, sister, not to be a princess. 
 
 Eld. Sist. I am answered ; and I must own, I 
 should take them for distracted if they did. 
 
 Wid. Unless the lady resolved to turn papist ; 
 and if that, she would do best to do it beforehand, 
 openly and avowedly, that she might not be under 
 the reflection of doing it on a worse account, viz., by 
 compulsion. 
 
 Yo. Sist. But after you have said so many things
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 261 
 
 of him, that are enough to recommend him, not to 
 the affection, but even to the admiration of any one, 
 what can you say to persuade any young woman 
 not to think that you were very happy in him, and 
 that consequently they would be so with such 
 another ? 
 
 Wid. O sister ! do not suggest that I was happy 
 with him : I had as few happy hours as it was 
 possible for any one to have that ever had a good 
 husband. 
 
 Yo. Sist. How can you convince any one of that ? 
 
 Wid. \Vhy, sister, it is plain to any one that 
 knows wherein the happiness of life consists. It is 
 true I wanted nothing ; I lived in the abundance of 
 all things ; 1 had the best-humoured husband on 
 earth, and one that loved me to an extreme ; which, 
 had not our case indeed called for so much affec- 
 tion another way, would have been a sin ; for, in a 
 word, he summed up all his earthly felicity in his 
 wife. 
 
 Eld. Sist. If you were to give that account to the 
 gentlemen of this age, they would say you were 
 writing the character of a fool. 
 
 Wid. It is no matter for that ; it was his mercy 
 and mine too; for if it had been otherwise, we had 
 been the miserablest creatures alive ; it was bad 
 enough as it was ; and all that knew him, will grant 
 that he was no fool. 
 
 Yo. Sist. But what do you think then would 
 have been the consequence, if, as you say, he had 
 loved you less ? Wherein must you have been 
 miserable ? 
 
 Wid. Why, sister, if his abundant affection had 
 not closed every debate with kindness, whither must 
 we have run ! If he had not checked all the for- 
 wardness of his religious zeal for converting me, by 
 his love to me, to what severity in our mutual re-
 
 262 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 proaclies should we have gone on! In a word, 
 sister, I must have turned, or turned out of doors ; 
 I must have been a papist, or we must have parted. 
 
 Yo. SisL Why sister, you know there's Mr. 
 
 P and his wife are in the very same case, 
 
 and yet they agree well enough. 
 
 JVid. Dear sister, how can you name them ! He 
 is a papist, and she is a protestant, and when the 
 name is taken away, it is hard to tell whether 
 either of them have any religion or no, nor do they 
 care one farthing which way either goes : people 
 that can live easy without religion, may live easy 
 with any religion ; that is not the case we are 
 speaking of 
 
 Eld. Sisf. There is a diiference there, I confess. 
 
 TVid. But if, sister, a religious life be the only 
 heaven upon earth, as we have been taught to 
 believe, tell me, if you represent such a case to 
 yourself, what must it be for two to live together, 
 who place their happiness really in such a life as we 
 call religious, but differ so extremely about what 
 religion to build it upon ? That agree in the gene- 
 ral, but not in the particulars ; that aim mutually 
 at the same end, viz., going to heaven, but turn 
 back to back as to the way thither ? Can a religi- 
 ous life be formed between such as these! and if 
 not, then they are mutually deprived of that heaven 
 upon earth, which, as you and I agree, is alone to 
 be found in a religious life. 
 
 Eld. Sist. That's true, but then in such a case 
 the enjoyment must be reserved and singular, and a 
 woman must keep her religion to herself 
 
 JVid. But you will allow her then to be deprived 
 at once of all social religion, of all family religion, 
 and, by consequence, of all the comfort of a religious 
 husband. 
 
 Eld. Sisf. Nay, that's true, and I am not speak-
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 263 
 
 ing for it ; but asking your experience, whether 
 with so tender a husband, as you had, it might not 
 be otherwise ? 
 
 Wid. Dear sister, his tenderness, as I said be- 
 fore, was my great mercy, as it made him bear with 
 my obstinacy, as he called it. Had he had the same 
 tenderness, and been indifferent in his principles, I 
 might have turned him ; but had he wanted that 
 tenderness, and yet been as zealous in his religion 
 as he was, he must have turned me, or T must have 
 lived a dreadful life with him. 
 
 Vo. Sist I find he was a mighty religious man in 
 his way. 
 
 fVid. To the greatest degree imaginable devout, 
 and very serious, I assure you. 
 
 Yo.^Sist. Well, though he was mistaken in his 
 principles, yet he was the more sober, the more 
 honest, and every way the better prepared to be a 
 good man. 
 
 Wid. His devotion made him, without doubt, the 
 better man ; but if it had not been for the restraints 
 of his affection, it had certainly made him the worse 
 husband. 
 
 Yo. Sist. So that in this question of marrying 
 a man of a different opinion in religion, you sup- 
 pose that the more devout and serious the person 
 is in his way, the worse husband. 
 
 Wid. Without question it is so ; the zeal in their 
 own opinions makes them always uneasy and im- 
 patient with their wives, teasing and baiting them 
 with impertinent disputes, and even driving them 
 by force of restless importunities (which, by the 
 way, is the worst sort of persecution) into a com- 
 pliance. 
 
 Yo. Sist. I agree with you in that part : but, sister, 
 you say, that even when your husband's love was 
 your protection from these importunities, you were
 
 264 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 yet unhappy, and could not be able to lead a reli- 
 gious life. 
 
 Wid. No, sister, I did not say so; I said we 
 could not have a religious family ; all social religion 
 was lost ; mutual help and assistance in religion 
 were wanting ; public worshipping God in the 
 fatnily, as a house, could not be set up ; education 
 and instruction of children was all destroyed ; ex- 
 ample to servants and inferiors all spoiled ; nothing 
 could be of religion, but what was merely personal 
 and retired. 
 
 Aunt There indeed you are right, niece. 
 
 Wid. I assure you, madam, from my experience, 
 that next to the having the husband and wife be 
 religious, or at least religiously inclined, they that 
 would have a religious family, should take as much 
 care as possible to have religious servants. 
 
 Aunt. I agree with you in that, my dear, with 
 all my heart. 
 
 TVid. It is impossible to preserve the necessary 
 rules of a religious family without it, or to have 
 a due regard shown to the orders which must be 
 given on that account. 
 
 Aunt. Nay, child, I go further than that ; I in- 
 sist, that our servants ought to be so chosen, as 
 to be of the same opinions too in religion as our- 
 selves. 
 
 Wid. I have not so much considered that part 
 indeed ; but I believe, madam, the reasons for it 
 are very good. 
 
 Aunt. I have a great deal to say to that from my 
 own experience. 
 
 Eld. Sist. And so have I too, madam, from what 
 I have seen in some families of my acquaintance. 
 
 Wid. I have seen enough of it in my little 
 family, to make me resolve, that while I have a 
 family, and can keep any servants, I will entertain
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 265 
 
 none but such as worship God the same way as 
 I worship him. 
 
 Eld. Sist. And did so b'efore you took them ; I 
 hope you mean so, sister. 
 
 Wid. Yes, indeed, I do mean so too. 
 
 Aunt. I must put in an exception, niece, there, 
 in behalf of poor ignorant creatures that may come 
 into a family untaught, and are willing to be in- 
 structed in things that are good. 
 
 Wid. I know not what to say to that part, be- 
 cause I am but ill qualified for a schoolmistress. 
 
 Au7it. Well, we will discourse of this by itself, 
 niece, for I have a great deal to say upon that sub- 
 ject. ^ 
 
 Wid. With all my heart, madam. 
 
 Aunt. But in the mean time, child, let us go now 
 where we left off. 
 
 Wid. There was as much religion in our house 
 as it was possible there should be, in our circum- 
 stances ; for both of us desired it in general, and 
 pursued it in particular, only we could not join in 
 the manner : and it was a perfect scene of confusion 
 to see how religion was carried on among us ; the 
 servants were some papists, some protestants, some 
 pagans, for we had three East Indian blacks and 
 one negro among our people ; the Christian servants 
 were every now and then together by the ears about 
 persuading the negro to turn Christian, and be bap- 
 tized, but could not bear to think what sort of 
 Christian the poor creature should be ; one of our 
 men, an Italian, would have him be a papist, and 
 the other would have him to be a protestant; and the 
 poor negro was so confounded, between them, that 
 he could not tell what to do. The negro was a sens- 
 ible, inquisitive fellow, and had, by mere asking 
 questions on both sides, gotten a great deal of 
 knowledge of religion, but was merely stopped in his
 
 266 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 search after further particulars by the impertinent 
 quarrels of those servants who pretended to instruct 
 him : both told him he must believe a God, a future 
 state, a heaven, a hell, a resurrection to life or to 
 death, and that he must be saved by a Redeemer; 
 they agreed exactly in their description of the joys 
 of eternal life, the torments of hell, and particularly 
 they had joined in giving the poor negro a frightful 
 apprehension of hell, as the reward of his doing 
 wickedly, and of the Devil, as a tempter, an enemy, 
 and tormentor ; so that the poor fellow would pray 
 to God very heartily to save him from hell, and to 
 keep him from the Devil. 
 
 But when these poor ignorant fellows began to 
 instruct him how to worship God, and who to look 
 to as his Redeemer and Saviour, to talk to him 
 about reading the Scriptures, and such things, they 
 fell out to the last degree ; the English footman 
 told the Italian he was an idolater, and that was 
 worse than a heathen, that Negum (for so the poor 
 negro was called) was as good a Christian as he, for 
 though he did not worship in the name of Christ, 
 yet as he (the Italian footman) worshipped a piece 
 of wood for a Saviour, Christ would not accept him, 
 and it was as bad as Negum's worshipping a hob- 
 goblin, or anything else. The Italian told him he 
 was a heretic, and his religion was no religion at all; 
 and that he was an enemy to God and to the 
 church ; and told Negum that if he believed what 
 that fellow said, the Devil would take him away 
 alive. They had many quarrels about it ; but one 
 day above the rest they came to that height that 
 they fell to fighting : it seems the rest of the 
 servants had parted them before their master or 
 I heard of it ; but as we were both walking 
 together in the evening in our garden, we by 
 mere chance saw the negro in the kitchen garden
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 267 
 
 crying; his master saw him first, and called 
 him to as ; and the fellow came with a book in 
 his hand, but terribly afraid his master should be 
 angry. 
 
 What's the matter, Xegum ? says his master ; and 
 so they began to talk. 
 
 Neg. No muchee matter, no muchee. 
 
 Ma. Why you were crying, Negum : what did 
 you cry about ? has any body beat you? 
 
 Neg. Xo muchee cry, no beatee me. 
 
 Ma. What then, Xegum? what book have you 
 got there ? 
 
 Neg. Indeedee me no go away, sir ; {kneels down) 
 me no go, me be a Christian, no indeedee. 
 
 ( The fellow, if seems, teas afraid his master wotdd 
 think, if he turned Christian, he would he baptized, 
 and so think himself free ; and he kneeled doivn to 
 his master to beg him not to be angry.) 
 
 Ma. Well, well, thou shalt be a Christian, Xegum, 
 if thou hast a mind to it ; God forbid anybody 
 should hinder thee : Avhat book's that ? 
 
 Neg. Bible book ; me readee this book to be 
 Christian. 
 
 Ma. W'^ho gave you that book to read ? 
 
 Neg. Augustino. 
 
 Ma. Let me see it. 
 
 {He looked in the book, and saiv it was an Italian 
 missal, or psalter.) 
 
 Neg. Me have other Bible book too. 
 
 {He pulls another book out.) 
 
 Ma. Let's see that too. 
 
 {His master looked in that too, and found it teas 
 an English Bible.) 
 
 Ma. Who gave you this too ? 
 
 Neg. William. 
 
 Ma. Well, you understand the languages, read
 
 268 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP 
 
 them both : but, poor fellow, thou hast got but two 
 sorry teachers. 
 
 When he gave the books back to him, and bid 
 him read them both, he turned to me. My dear, 
 says he, these fellows pretend to instruct this poor 
 negro in the Christian religion, when they can't 
 agree about it themselves, I am sure. Upon which 
 Negum makes his master a bow, and puts in his 
 word. 
 
 Neg. No, indeedee, they no agree ; they fightee 
 just now about teachee me. 
 
 Ma, What, did they fight ? 
 
 Neg. Yes, indeedee, they fightee just now : they 
 no teachee me ; one say me go to the Devil, t'other 
 say me go to the Devil ; they no teachee me to go 
 away from the Devil, they make me no know what 
 I do. 
 
 Ma. And was that it you cried about, Negum ? 
 
 Neg. Yes, indeedee, me cry to go to the Devil ! me 
 would go away from the Devil. 
 
 Ma. You must pray to God to keep you from the 
 Devil. 
 
 Neg. Yes, indeedee, me do pray God to keep 
 away the Devil. 
 
 Ma. You must pray to God to teach you too. 
 
 Neg. God teachee me ! no, Augustin teachee 
 me! no, William teachee me ! God teachee me, how 
 that? 
 
 Here my spouse found how the case stood, and 
 turning to me. My dear, says he, these fellows 
 quarrel continually about this poor man, and so in 
 the end he will be brought rather to abhor the 
 Christian religion in general, than to turn Christian 
 at all, while one pulls him one way and one another ;
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 269 
 
 now what course must you and I take ? I cannot 
 pretend to desire him to be made a protestant, I am 
 sure you won't desire him to be a catholic ; and so 
 the poor fellow must be lost. I told him it was a 
 critical case, in which I knew not how to act ; but 
 as they were his servants in particular, and that he 
 brought his negro out of Italy with him, I thought 
 they were to be at his disposal and direction rather 
 than mine. My dear, says he, there is nothing mine 
 but what is yours ; don't shift it off so, but tell me 
 what I shall do ? I confess I trembled when he 
 said so, for I was afraid some debate would fall in 
 between us in consequence of the case ; however I 
 answered him thus : My dear, you determined be- 
 fore for me, what you might be sure would be my 
 thoughts ; but what can I determine about your 
 servants ? Well, my dear, says he, I'll do as Solo- 
 mon did in the case of dividing the child, I'll show 
 you that I am the truest lover of his soul, I mean of 
 us two ; for rather than he should not be taught to 
 worship God at all, let him be taught the way of the 
 country where we are ; if we divide, as our two men 
 have done, he will not be taught at all. 
 
 Upon this principle he acted, and consented I 
 should act in it as I saw cause ; upon which I sent 
 the negro down to a country tenant we have in Essex, 
 upon pretence to learn to plough and sow, and do 
 country work, and there I kept him near a twelve- 
 month ; at the same time, the farmer being a very 
 sober, religious man, and having a hint from me 
 what to do, this poor negro is become a very sensible, 
 religious fellow, has been baptized now two years 
 ago, and I think verily is an excellent Christian. 
 
 Sist. And did he run away, or claim his freedom 
 upon his being baptized ? 
 
 Wid. No, not he ; but I gave him his freedom
 
 270 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 when his master died, and gave him wages, and he 
 is an extraordinary servant, I assure you. 
 
 Sist. Your husband strained a point of religion 
 there, I assure you. 
 
 JFid. Why you see what principle he did it 
 from ; he saw the fellow was in a protestant coun- 
 try, and would either be a protestant at last, or 
 nothing at all ; and he rather chose he should be 
 a protestant, than remain a heathen, or lose all 
 desire of being a Christian ; For, says he, God 
 can enlighten him further, by a miracle, when he 
 pleases ; and the having been taught the general 
 notions of religion, he would be the easier brought 
 to embrace the true church ; but if he continues a 
 heathen, he will have no knowledge at all. 
 
 Eld. SisL I believe you would not have shown 
 the same charity for his church. 
 
 JVid. I confess I did not show so much zeal for 
 the soul of the poor negro, as I think I ought to 
 have done, or so much charity as he did ; but had 
 other thoughts at that time to take me up : how- 
 ever, sister, to bring this back to the first discourse, 
 you see by this how fatal in a family, difference in 
 principles is within the same house ; and had he 
 not been biassed by an extraordinary temper, as 
 well as by an uncommon charity, we had been the 
 most miserable couple on earth : so that, in short, 
 there is not one part of a woman's life in such a cir- 
 cumstance that is not dreadfully embarrassed, if she 
 has any sense of her own principles, or her husband 
 any sense of his. 
 
 Vo. Sist. But do you think then, that there may 
 be a case of some kind or other, in which a man and 
 a woman may be happy together, though there be a 
 difference in opinions ? 
 
 Wtd. No indeed, I do not think there is : I do
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 271 
 
 not think you can name a case in which it is pos- 
 sible to say with truth, that they can be happy ; that 
 is, that there is not some interruption to their hap- 
 piness on that very account. 
 
 Vo. Sist. That is, supposing them to be both re- 
 ligiously inclined. 
 
 JVid. Nay, that need not be supposed ; for we go 
 upon our mother's principle, that without a re- 
 ligious family there can be no happiness of life: if 
 they are, as I said before, indiiferent about religion, 
 then there is no happiness at all in our sense of fe- 
 licity ; and if they place their happiness in pursuing 
 their duty, as every true Christian must, there must 
 be some of that happiness wanting, where they can- 
 not worship God together, and go hand in hand to 
 heaven. 
 
 Vo. Sist. You know, sister, I was always of that 
 mind ; but I am exceedingly confirmed in it by your 
 experience. 
 
 Wid. You were happy in your early cleaving to 
 this principle, and I miserable in neglecting it ; may 
 both our examples be directing to those that come 
 after us ! 
 
 Fa. Come, children, blessed be God for the ex- 
 perience of both : let us end this discourse, for it 
 makes me melancholy, that have had a very un- 
 happy part in both your cases : in yours my dear, 
 (speaking to the youngest.,) I violently endeavoured 
 to force you to be miserable ; and in yours, my dear, 
 {speaking to the other.,) I entirely omitted the 
 concern I ought to have had upon me, to prevent 
 your making yourself so. 
 
 Hist. Do not afflict yourself, sir, about that now ; 
 blessed be God we have both got it over. 
 
 Fa. But it does afflict me for all that ; and let 
 all fathers learn from me, how much it concerns 
 them, if they wish well to their children, either to
 
 272 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 their souls or bodies, to establish religious fa- 
 milies in their posterity, and to prevent their 
 children marrying, if possible, either where there 
 is no religion, or no agreement in opinion about 
 it; for in either case they are sure to be made 
 miserable. 
 
 The end of the second part.
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 PART in. 
 
 In the latter part of the last discourse we left the aunt 
 and the widow sister, who had married the Roman 
 catholic gentleman, entering upon a discourse 
 about the inconveniences of entertaining irre- 
 ligious servants ; and also of entertaining of ser- 
 vants of differing persuasions and opinions in re- 
 ligion one from another, or of differing opinions 
 from the family they served in. The ladies put off 
 the discourse of that affair for another time, the 
 aunt being willing to enter into a more particular 
 conversation about it. This caused several very 
 entertaining discourses among them at several 
 times, some of which, I hope, may be useful to be 
 made public for the direction of other families, and 
 for the encouragement of all masters or mistresses 
 of families, who desire to promote good govern- 
 ment and religious things among their children and 
 servants ; and particularly in such a time as this, 
 when it is known that servants are less apt to submit 
 to family regulations, and good household govern- 
 menf, than ever. 
 
 The two ladies being at their aunt's house, 
 which was at Hampstead, as I have observed, their 
 aunt had a little squabble with one of her maids 
 upon the following occasion : the maid had, it seems, 
 
 R. C. T
 
 274 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 been out in the afternoon of a Sabbath-day, and 
 stayed longer than the usual time of being at church ; 
 and her lady, who otherwise had known nothing of it, 
 happened, unluckily for the wench, to be just in the 
 way when she came in ; that is to say, the lady 
 chancing to go down the back stairs, which was 
 not ordinary for her to do, meets her maid dressed 
 in her best clothes, and just going up to undress 
 herself; and this rencounter between the mistress 
 and the maid produced the following dialogue. 
 
 DIALOGUE I. 
 
 Lady, Ha ! Mary, says the lady, not undressed 
 yet! 
 
 Mary. I shall be ready presently, madam. 
 
 La. But how come you to be so fine at this time 
 of day ? I suppose you are but just come in, Mary ? 
 
 Ma. Yes, madam, I have been come in a good 
 while. 
 
 La. What do you call a good while, Mary ? 
 
 Ma. A great while, madam. 
 
 La. Must not I know how long, Mary ? 
 
 Ma. Yes, madam, if you please ; but you don't 
 use to inquire into such trifles ; I hope I have not 
 been wanted. 
 
 La. It would have been a trifle, Mary, if it had 
 been of another day ; but it being on the Sabbath- 
 day, Mary, makes the case differ extremely : I hope 
 you were at church, Mary ? 
 
 Ma. Yes, madam, to be sure. 
 
 La. At our church, Mary ? I think I did not see 
 you there. 
 
 Ma. No, madam, indeed I was not there ; I hope 
 'tis all one if I was at another church ?
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 275 
 
 La. No, Mary, it is not all one, because I cannot 
 be sure that you were at any church at all. 
 
 Ma. You may take my word, madam, for that, for 
 once, I hope. 
 
 La. I cannot say, Mary, that 'tis so much to my 
 satisfaction to take your word for it, as it would 
 have been to see you at church myself. 
 
 Ma. I am sorry, madam, you should be uneasy 
 at those things ; I hope I do your business to your 
 content ; and as to going to church, I hope I may 
 be at liberty to go to v/hat church I like best. 
 
 La. Why yes, Mary, I am willing to allow 
 liberty of conscience, but then it is upon condition 
 that it is really a conscientious liberty ; 'tis not my 
 question what church you go to, if I am satisfied 
 you were at church at all ; but how shall I be sure 
 of that, Mary? 
 
 Ma. 'Tis not worth your inquiry, madam ; those 
 things are trifles below a mistress to trouble herself 
 with. 
 
 La. No, Mary, you are much mistaken there ; I 
 think I am obliged to inquire whether my servants 
 go to church or no ; and how they spend their 
 time o' Sabbath-days : besides, Mary, 'tis a great 
 while since church was done, and I find you are but 
 just come home ; I desire to have some little ac- 
 count where you have been. 
 
 Ma. I am not ashamed to tell where I have been, 
 madam ; I have been doing no harm ; I have been 
 taking a walk, madam ; I work hard enough all the 
 week ; I think I may take a little pleasure o' Sun- 
 days. 
 
 T^a. Well, Mary, so you have been walking in 
 the fields, and taking your pleasure to-day ? 
 
 Ma. Yes, madam ; I hope there is no offence in 
 it; I think you said I have not been wanted. 
 
 t2
 
 276 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 La. Well, but just now you said you had been at 
 church, Mary. 
 
 Ma. Why, that's true, madam ; I was at High- 
 gate church-door, but I did not go in, that's true ; 
 I did not think you would have troubled yourself to 
 examine such trifles so very particularly. 
 
 La. You and I differ very much about the thing 
 itself; I do not think 'tis a trifling thing at all, 
 Mary, whether my servants spend the Sabbath-day 
 at church, or in taking their pleasure. 
 
 Ma. I work very hard, madam, all the week. 
 
 La. What's that to keeping the Sabbath-day, 
 Mary? 
 
 Ma. Why, madam, sure I may take a little 
 pleasure o' Sundays ; I have no other time ; I am 
 sure you give your servants no time for diversion. 
 
 La. Did I ever refuse you, Mary, when you 
 asked me for a day for yourself? 
 
 Ma. I never troubled you much with asking. 
 
 La. I had rather you had, Mary, than take God's 
 time for yourself. 
 
 Ma. God's time, madam ; all our time is God's 
 time, I think. 
 
 La. Yes, Mary ; but some time he has appointed 
 for religion, Mary. 
 
 3Ia. Religion ! O dear ! indeed, madam, I don't 
 trouble myself about religion, not I. 
 
 La. So 1 find, Mary, and am sorry for it. 
 
 Ma. O madam, you have religion enough for us 
 all : what can I do ? 
 
 La. Don't make a jest of it, Mary, I am not 
 jesting with you. 
 
 Ma. I think you are, madam, when you talk to 
 me of religion ; 1 don't understand it ; what can I 
 say to it ? 
 
 La. You can go to church, Mary, can't you ?
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 277 
 
 Ma. Yes, madam, so I do sometimes. 
 
 La. And don't you every Sunday ? 
 
 Ma. No indeed, madam, not I ; 'tis a folly to lie. 
 
 La. I am sorry for it, Mary ; I assure you, they 
 that live with me shall go to church every Sunday, 
 or I shall not desire their service. 
 
 Ma. You never made that bargain, madam, when 
 you hired me. 
 
 La. Well, Mary, then I make it now; for they 
 shall not serve me all the week, that make my work 
 an excuse for not serving God on Sunday ; I should 
 think it would bring a curse upon my work, and 
 upon my whole family. 
 
 Ma. As you please for that, madam. 
 
 La. No, Mary, it must be as you please, it seems, 
 for you know my conditions now, and I expect you 
 will observe them, or remove. 
 
 {Here her mistress left her, seeing she began to 
 talk a little saucily, and she had no mind to vex 
 herself, or put herself in any passion with her.) 
 
 The wench, a little heated with the reproof her 
 lady had given her, and vexed that she was caught, 
 for she did not expect to see her mistress on the 
 back stairs, went up and undressed herself, and 
 hearing another of the maids in the next room, she 
 goes to her, and there gives a full vent to her pas- 
 sion ; railing heartily at her mistress, and at reli- 
 gion, and at everything that came in her way. 
 The following discourse will give some part of their 
 talk : she knocks at the door, and calls to her fellow- 
 servant thus : Betty, open the door, I want to speak 
 to you : so Betty let her in, and she begins. 
 
 Ma. I suppose you have heard what a lecture I 
 have had, ha'n't you, Betty ? 
 
 Betty. No, not 1 : who have you had a lecture 
 from ?
 
 278 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Ma. Nay, nobody but my mistress : I wonder 
 what business she had upon the back stairs. 
 
 Bet. Back stairs ! why did you meet my mis- 
 tress upon the back stairs ? 
 
 3Ia. Ay, ay, 1 met her there ; or rather she met 
 me there, as ill luck would have it ; for I was but 
 just come in, and was coming up to undress me, 
 but she caught me ; I would I had been a mile 
 ofF. 
 
 Bet. Why what did she say to you ? was she 
 angry ? 
 
 Ma. Ay, ay, angry! I never had such a rattle 
 from her since I came into the house. 
 
 Bet. What was the matter ? what was it for ? 
 
 Ma. For ! for nothing, I think ; but forsooth she 
 would needs know where I had been, and whether 
 I had been at church, or no : what has she to do 
 with it, whether I go to church or no ? 'tis nothing 
 to her. 
 
 Bet. O that was only because you was but just 
 come in, and it was so long past church-time, I 
 suppose, that made her suspect you. 
 
 Ma. Suspect me ! what do you mean by that ? 
 I do nothing to be suspected, not I. 
 
 Bet. I don't say you do ; I say that made her 
 suspect you had not been at church. 
 
 Ma. Well, she need not trouble her head with 
 her suspicions of me ; I told her I had not been at 
 church ; I told her I had been taking a walk with a 
 friend as far as Highgate. 
 
 Bet. Did you ? that's more than I dare do ; if I 
 make a slip now and then, I am in such a hurry to 
 get back just as church is done, that it takes away 
 the pleasure of it. 
 
 Ma. I don't trouble my head with it ; if I have a 
 mind to take a walk, as long as she don't want me, 
 what need she trouble herself; I shan't be so much
 
 RELIGIODS COURTSHIP. 279 
 
 afraid of her, not I ; as long as it is only o' Sunday, 
 and my work is done too. 
 
 Bet. But then I can assure you my mistress and 
 you will not agree long together ; for if she knows 
 it, she won't keep you an hour. 
 
 Ma, Nay, she may do as she will for that ; I told 
 her plainly where I went, and that I thought she 
 had nothing to do with it. 
 
 Bet. Did you so, Mary? Then I suppose she 
 told you her mind ? 
 
 Ma. Ay, ay, and I told her my mind too ; I 
 won't be tied up to her religious trumpery, not I ; 
 if I do her work, what has she to do with what reli- 
 gion I am of, or whether I have any religion or no ? 
 'tis no business of hers. 
 
 Bet. No, Mary, I cannot go that length neither : 
 I think my mistress may concern herself with that ; 
 for if she is religious herself, she may desire to have 
 her servants be so too ; and therefore if I do make 
 a breach sometimes, I always do it so as not to be 
 found out : and I have such good luck, that my 
 mistress has never caught me yet. 
 
 Ma. Well, she has caught me ; and if it be a fine 
 day next Sunday, she shall catch me again, if she 
 has a mind to it ; I won't be tied to go to church but 
 when I please ; I love liberty : besides, this is about 
 religion, Betty, and, so 'tis liberty of conscience; 
 you know I love liberty of conscience, Betty. 
 
 Bet. You are witty upon it, Mary : pray what do 
 you call liberty of conscience ? 
 
 Ma. What ! that I should have liberty to go to 
 church, or not go to church, as I think fit, and when 
 I please : is not that liberty of conscience ? 
 
 Bet. No, Mary, I think that is liberty without 
 conscience, for 'tis a liberty in what we should not 
 do ; that can never be liberty of conscience, Mary. 
 
 Ma. Well, well; then let it be liberty without
 
 280 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 conscience ; 'tis the liberty I love ; and I see no 
 harm in it : why you acknowledge you do so your- 
 self, don't you ? 
 
 Bet. That's true, so I do sometimes ; but I cannot 
 say 'tis as it should be ; I cannot say as you do, that 
 there is no harm in it ; 'tis a fault, I know that ; 
 and I don't do it very often ; and when I do, as I 
 told you, I take care not to have it known. 
 
 Ma. Very well, then you are worse than I ; for 
 you believe it is a fault, and yet do it ; now I don't 
 think 'tis a fault at all ; if I did, it may be I would 
 not do it. 
 
 Bet. I don't believe you can say with a safe con- 
 science that there is no harm in it ; you only are 
 hardened a little more than I. 
 
 Ma. It may be so ; and you are even with me, 
 for you are a little more of a hypocrite than I, and 
 for aught I see, that's all the difference between us. 
 
 Bet. Truly, Mary, your reproof is bitter : but 
 perhaps 'tis too true ; and I shall learn so much 
 from you, that I shall take more care how I do again 
 what my own conscience convinces me is a fault. 
 
 Ma. Well, and I may go on, because I have more 
 impudence than you, 1 suppose that's what you 
 mean? 
 
 Bet. I do not say so ; I believe you know 'tis a 
 fault as well as I do, but you are a little more used 
 to those things, it may be, than I have been. 
 
 Ma. I am as I was bred, and so, it may be, are : 
 you ; I was never taught to lay much stress upon 
 these things, and so 1 never trouble myself about 
 them. 
 
 Bet. Well, Mary, I am glad you think I have 
 been taught better. 
 
 Ma. Why, as well as you have been taught, I find 
 you can take a walk in the fields o' Sunday as well 
 as I.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 281 
 
 Bet. But I tell you again, I don't do it and think 
 there's no harm in it, as you do ; and you have 
 touched me so home with your reproof, that I re- 
 solve never to do so again while I live. 
 
 Ma. But what's all this to my mistress and me ? 
 what has she to do with it ? 
 
 Bet. Why Mary, my mistress is a very pious, re- 
 ligious lady, and she thinks herself bound to call her 
 servants to an account how they spend their time. 
 
 Ma. Ay, so she may for all the week-days, for 
 that's her time ; but Sunday is my own, she has 
 nothing to do with that. 
 
 Bet. I assure you my mistress will not allow that 
 doctrine ; she thinks she has as much to do with 
 you on Sunday as any other day. 
 
 Ma. You talk of my mistress being a religious 
 lady, why so she may be, for aught I know ; and I 
 think we have so much religion at home, we need 
 not go abroad for it : does not the chaplain tease us 
 twice a day with his long prayers, and reading of 
 chapters ? I am sure he has made me neglect my 
 business many times to come to prayers : but I give 
 them the slip sometimes, and if I did not, they would 
 have many a good dish of meat spoiled, so they would. 
 
 Bet. You are a merry girl, Mary, when you talk 
 of religion. 
 
 Ma. Nay, I don't understand it ; I know nothing 
 of the matter; I come to do my business, and mind 
 the kitchen ; if their dinners are not well dished up, 
 they may find fault, and I should take some care to 
 mend it ; but to talk to me about religion, 'tis time 
 enough hereafter; let them let me alone to myself. 
 
 Bet. But my mistress will satisfy you that she is 
 obliged, while she keeps you for a servant, to see 
 that you serve God as well as you serve her. 
 
 Ma. O dear! let them serve God themselves 
 better first ; I don't see that any of them have any
 
 282 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 more regard to their prayers and their chapters than 
 I have that stay away, but only for form sake, and 
 it may be for the credit of employing a chaplain. 
 
 Bet. Nay, do not say so neither ; I can assure 
 you my mistress is a very pious, religious lady, and 
 you cannot say otherwise, I am sure ; and so are all 
 the young ladies too, they are like her. 
 
 Ma. It may be so ; and yet I have seen them all 
 asleep at prayers, many a time, when I am sure they 
 had not so much more need to be sleepy than I had 
 that work hard, nor so much neither. 
 
 Bet. Sometimes they may be heavy, but that is 
 not often ; and I suppose you cannot say they were 
 ever all asleep together. 
 
 Ma. 'Tis no matter for that, they do the same at 
 church ; and pray what's the difference between my 
 going into the fields to take my pleasure on Sundays 
 and their going to church to take their ease ? be- 
 tween my washing my dishes, while the chaplain is 
 at prayers, and their being fast asleep at prayers ? 
 
 Bet. Why, Moll, thou art very malicious to take 
 notice of such things, and they are faults to be 
 sure ; but there is a vast difference in them too. 
 
 Ma. As how, pray? 
 
 Bet. Why thus : that though they may sometimes 
 drop asleep, 'tis not always : and they do it but sel- 
 dom. You, it seems, make the other a practice, and 
 do it always ; then if they do sleep sometimes at 
 church or at prayers, they don't pretend to say there 
 is no harm in it, they must acknowledge they ought 
 not to do so ; but you have the impudence to say, 
 when you spend your time in the fields, or perhaps 
 worse, there is no harm in it. Now there's a great 
 deal of difference between doing a thing which they 
 acknowledge to be wrong, and doing what is really 
 wrong, and justifying it as if it was right. 
 
 Ma. Well, let them do what they will, and let me
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 283 
 
 do what I will ; I don't meddle with them. let them 
 let me alone, can't they ? 
 
 Bet. But it may be, my mistress thinks she ought 
 to govern her servants in religious things, as well as 
 in her house affairs. 
 
 Ma. Why let her think what she will, and do 
 what she will, I will have my own way, I shall mind 
 nothing they say to me. 
 
 Bet. That's none of my business, Mary; you must 
 do as you will. 
 
 Ma. No ; and it is none of her business neither, 
 I think. 
 
 Bet. I can't say that, Mary ; I think if you were 
 a mistress, and kept a great many servants, as our 
 mistress does, you would talk otherwise, and do 
 otherwise too, or else you would soon have a house 
 full of whores and rogues. 
 
 Ma. I don't know what I would do then, nor do 
 I trouble my head with it ; for I am never like to be 
 tried with it : but if I was a housekeeper, and kept 
 maids, I would take care they should do my business, 
 and that would keep them from making such a dis- 
 orderly house as you speak of; as for their reli- 
 gion, I should not trouble myself about it. 
 
 Bet. Well, but I would trouble myself about that 
 too, 1 assure you, if 1 were a mistress. 
 
 Ma. Why what would you do ? 
 
 Bet. Why, if I had a chaplain, or a husband that 
 kept up good orders in his house, I would take care 
 my servants should always attend at prayers ; and 
 on Sundays I would take care they should all go to 
 church, and come home again too when church was 
 done. 
 
 3Ia. You would ! and if I was your maid you 
 would make me come in to prayers every night and 
 morning, would you ? 
 
 Bet. Yes, I would, or you should not live with me.
 
 284 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Ma. Well, and if I did come in, I should only 
 laugh at you all when I did, and make a jest of 
 your chaplain or your husband, and so would other 
 servants too : don't you see we do so here ? an't 
 we always making sport at our poor dull thing 
 called a chaplain ? 
 
 Bet. Yes, I can't say but I see it, but I never 
 join with you in it ; for I think there's no jest at all 
 in it : and as for the poor good man himself, I know he 
 sees it, and 'tis a great trouble and discouragement 
 to him. 
 
 Ma. Why what is such a fellow good for, but 
 to be gamed and made sport with ? does he think 
 we take him for anything but a religious merry- 
 andrew ? 
 
 Bet. You must think, however, my mistress takes 
 him otherwise, and thinks it her duty to keep him, 
 and to have good orders in her house ; and it does 
 not become us that are servants to mock at such 
 things. No master or mistress that knew their 
 servants mocked at God's worship in their house, 
 ought to keep those servants an hour longer in their 
 families. 
 
 Ma. And you would make me come to church if 
 I was your cook, would you, Betty ? 
 
 Bet. No, I dcn't say I would make you go to 
 church, but you should either go to God's worship, 
 or go about your business. 
 
 Ma. Well, but what if I were a dissenter, and did 
 not like your way, or did not care to go to church ? 
 Or what if you were a dissenter, and I did not like 
 to go to the meeting-house ? 
 
 Bet. Why truly, Mary, in general, I say if that 
 were the real case, I would not restrain you, pro- 
 vided I was satisfied you went but somewhere ; but 
 your dispute with my mistress is between going 
 somewhere and nowhere ; not between serving God
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 285 
 
 in this manner or that manner, but between serving 
 God some way or other, and serving him no way at 
 all ; and that alters the case mightily. 
 
 Ma, But as to the matter of coming to prayers 
 at home, it would be the same thing ; for if I were 
 a church woman, and my mistress a dissenter ; or I 
 a dissenter, and my mistress of the church ; a 
 quaker, and my mistress a Roman catholic; or 
 my mistress a quaker, and I a Roman catholic, 
 it would be all the same thing ; there would be the 
 same dislike and contempt of what was done in the 
 house ; I should no more like the crosses and the 
 masses of the papists, the yea and nay of the 
 quakers, and the reading prayers of the church, 
 or extempore prayers of the presbyterians, if 1 was 
 of the other opinion, than I like now any of them 
 while I declare I understand none of them ; and so 
 all their family doings would be but a jest to me, 
 and I'll make a jest of them. 
 
 Bet. Why this is too true ; and therefore I must 
 own, that if I were mistress of a house, I would al- 
 ways have my servants go to the same place, to 
 serve God, as I did myself, or I would not keep 
 them ; whether I went to the church, the meeting- 
 house, to the quaker's meeting, or to the mass- 
 house. 
 
 Ma. And what would you be the better? they 
 would but make a jest of you still ; they would be 
 not the more of your opinion for forcing them to 
 go where you went. 
 
 Bet. You mistake me much ; I mean, they 
 should be such as by choice went to worship so be- 
 fore they came to me, and that declared their 
 opinion to be so when 1 hired them ; for otherwise, 
 I grant, that compelling them afterwards would be 
 nothing at all, or perhaps worse than the other. 
 
 Ma. And what if an honest, plain wench, like me,
 
 286 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 came to be hired, that knows nothing at all of reli- 
 gion, and troubled not herself about it ? 
 
 Bet. Why, such a one, when I asked her whether 
 she went to this or that place, would say yes to any 
 of them, as I happened to be myself, and so I might 
 be deceived. 
 
 Ma. Well, and what would you do then, when 
 you found her out, and met her on the back stairs, 
 Bess, as my mistress has done by me ? 
 
 Bet. Why I should do just as my mistress has 
 done with you, inquire about it, and when I found 
 you a reprobate, profane wench, and a saucy one 
 too, as it seems you acknowledge you have shown 
 yourself to-day, I should even give you warning to 
 mend your manners, or provide yourself, as it seems 
 my mistress has done too. 
 
 Ma. A pretty story ! so I am come to make my 
 complaint to you to a fine purpose : it seems you 
 think me in the wrong all the way. 
 Bet. Indeed so I do. 
 
 Ma. And what if I had come to you to be hired, 
 and you had asked my opinion about religion, and 
 I had answered you that I had not had many 
 thoughts about it ; that all opinions vrere alike to 
 me; that when I did go anywhere, I would go 
 where you would have me go, and the like ? 
 
 Bet. Why Mary, I must own I should not like it 
 at all ; neither, 1 believe, should I hire you at all ; 
 I should be afraid to take such a stupid despiser of 
 God and rehgion into my house; you should even 
 go without a mistress of me. 
 
 Ma. Well, and you might go without a servant 
 too of me ; for I can tell you, there are mistresses 
 enough in the world that never ask the question 
 either before or after, nor care whether their ser- 
 vants serve God or the Devil. 
 
 Bet. Ay, Mary, and that is one reason why so 
 many of us servants are of the same kind.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 287 
 
 Ma. Well, well, I don't doubt, however, but I 
 shall get a place among them, and not be questioned 
 about going to church ; I go to service to work, not 
 to learn my catechism ; I understand my cookery, 
 what is it to them whether I understand religion or 
 no? 
 
 Bet. Why look you, Mary, I don't learn my 
 catechism any more than you, and yet I do not like 
 my mistress the worse, I assure you, for taking care 
 that her servants should go to church, and not 
 caring to keep those that are despisers of religion. 
 I think 'tis pity any lady that is religious should 
 not have religious servants about her. 
 
 They had another dialogue upon this subject 
 afterwards ; but it had too much passion in it to 
 merit a place in this account ; for the case was this; 
 Betty gave her lady an account of some part of 
 Mary's discourse, particularly that of making a jest 
 of her chaplain, and of calling the family to prayers; 
 upon which her mistress turned her out of her 
 house, giving her a month's wages instead of a 
 month's warning, as one not fit to be allowed to stay 
 in the family ; and Mary fell upon her fellow-ser- 
 vant for that part in a great rage. Betty told her 
 in so many words, she thought herself obliged to 
 mention it, though it was not till her mistress hav- 
 ing heard that they had discoursed it together, 
 made her promise to give her a full account of all 
 that had passed between them ; and if she had not 
 done it faithfully, her mistress would have put 
 them both away together. 
 
 These two short dialogues or disputes about the 
 maid's rambling on the Sabbath-day, was the rea- 
 son why the young lady's aunt was willing to dis- 
 course again with her niece upon that subject ; and 
 accordingly, meeting together some time after, they
 
 288 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 renewed their discourse about servants in the 
 following manner : 
 
 Aunt. I think, niece, when you and I talked last, 
 we were upon the subject of taking religious ser- 
 vants ; I want to hear what you have to say upon 
 that head ; for I think there is really much more 
 in it than most people imagine. 
 
 Niece. Truly, madam, it is what I lay great 
 stress upon; and though I have not had much occasion 
 to complain in the few years I have kept house, yet 
 I have seen so much of it in my mother's time, and 
 since that in other families, and a little in my own, 
 that I am resolved what shift I make I will have no 
 servants but such as at least have a common reve- 
 rence for religion, and for religious persons in a 
 family. To be sure I will never have any scoffers 
 and mockers of religion, if I can help it. 
 
 Aunt. As the world goes now, child, it will be 
 very hard to find such ; for religion is so much 
 made a jest of among masters, that it is hard to find 
 any servants that do not jest at it too, and mock 
 and shght all those that have any regard to it. 
 
 Niece. That's my case, madam, exactly ; but 
 there is another mischief in it too. 
 
 Aunt. Another mischief, child! there are innu- 
 merable family mischiefs in it. 
 
 Niece. I believe so, madam. But this is one par- 
 ticular case, and which I have the greater reason to 
 take notice of, because a certain lady, an acquaint- 
 ance and neighbour of mine, has had a great deal of 
 that kind, and indeed in a particular manner, with 
 her servants. 
 
 Aunt. What lady is that ? pray do I know her ? 
 
 Niece. You had some discourse with her, madam, 
 if I remember right, the last time you did me the 
 favour to dine with me. 
 
 Aunt. I remember it very well, and we talked a
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 289 
 
 little upon that very subject; I mean, how rude and 
 insolent servants were grown at this time ; but I 
 think we had not much talk of their being irreligious 
 and profane. 
 
 Niece. Madam, she had a servant whom they 
 called her woman, for she was one to whom she in- 
 trusted everything, and who was like a housekeeper, 
 and all the servants were as it were under her ; she 
 was a very good sort of a body indeed in the house, 
 and as that lady, if you remember, was very lame, 
 she could not stir about to look much after her ser- 
 vants herself, and trusted all to this woman. 
 
 She was a sensible woman, had the knowledge of 
 almost everything in the world, and talked admir- 
 able well, had a world of wit and humour, very 
 mannerly and well-behaved, sober, and modest 
 enough ; in short, she was an excellent servant. 
 
 Aujit. You give her an extraordinary character, 
 niece, I assure you. 
 
 Niece. In a word, madam, she had everything 
 about her that could be desired in a servant, but 
 religion ; and of that she was as entirely empty as 
 you can imagine it possible for any creature in the 
 world to be, and that had ever heard of God or 
 Devil, or had lived among Christians. 
 
 Aunt. Nay, niece, you say she was not an ignorant 
 body. 
 
 Niece. Xo, indeed, madam, she was so far from 
 being ignorant that she was able to deceive anybody ; 
 she would talk of religious things as well, and argue 
 upon them strongly enough to delude anybody : and 
 this made it the worse, for she was such a human devil, 
 that she made use of a fluent tongue, and of an un- 
 common wit, not to talk irreligiously only, but to 
 mock and make a jest of religion in general, and of 
 all those that had any regard for it. 
 
 Aunt. She was a dangerous body, indeed! pray 
 R. c. u
 
 290 RELIGIOUS COUBTSHIP. 
 
 was slie a maid or a wife ? for she is not very young, 
 it seems. 
 
 Niece. She had never been married, madam, but 
 I think was engaged to a man whom my spouse sent 
 to Italy, and they are to be married when he comes 
 back. 
 
 Aunt. You say she is a sober woman ? 
 
 Niece. Yes, madam, I dare say she is ; but her 
 wicked, profane, and atheistical behaviour is enough 
 to poison a whole family. 
 
 Aunt. But why does the lady, your friend, enter- 
 tain such a one in her house? 
 
 Niece. She has such a subtlety in her conduct, 
 and behaves so cunningly, that her mistress does 
 not perceive it, at least she does not think her so 
 bad as she is. 
 
 Aunt. But what says her husband to it ? does he 
 know it ? 
 
 Niece. Yes, madam, he knows more of it than 
 she does, for the men-servants tell him of it, and 
 give him a particular account sometimes of passages 
 which they observe. 
 
 Aunt. Perhaps he don't trouble himself about it : 
 for the men do not often value these things. 
 
 Niece. Indeed, madam, just the contrary ; for he 
 is a very sober, religious gentleman, and keeps very 
 good order in his house, and 'tis a very great dis- 
 turbance to him. 
 
 Aunt. And has he spoken of it to his wife ? 
 
 Niece. Yes,' madam, he has very often, and told 
 her such particulars as are very essential to the 
 good of the family, and such too as almost carry 
 their own evidence with them. 
 
 Aunt. And what does she say ? 
 
 Niece. I know not indeed how she manages, but 
 I know that her husband and she have had more 
 words about it than about all other matters put to-
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 291 
 
 gether since they were married ; and sometimes it 
 grows high, and they are very warm, and even angry 
 about it. 
 
 Aunt. Why she seems to be a good sensible reli- 
 gious lady : how can she take such a creature's part, 
 especially against her husband ? 
 
 Niece. Why first of all she pretends that she 
 does not believe it, that the other servants rival her 
 the favour she receives, and her mistress's particu- 
 lar kindnesses, and do it out of a malicious de- 
 sign ; then she says she has examined her, and 
 finds she clears herself of much of the charge, and 
 makes the rest to appear trifling, and not worth 
 notice. 
 
 Aunt. But perhaps, niece, it really may be so too, 
 and the other servants may make things worse than 
 they are, for the reasons you mention. 
 
 Niece. But, madam, it is otherwise in fact ; for 
 the truth is, this wench, or woman, manages all the 
 servants so effectually, that, in short, if any of them 
 are religiously inclined when they come, she makes 
 them ashamed to be so when they come to her ; for 
 she makes a mock of religion, and such a jest of 
 going to church, or going to prayers in the family, 
 that she laughs them out of their religion, and, in a 
 word, they all turn reprobates like herself 
 
 Aunt. But can this be, and her lady not know or 
 hear of it ? 
 
 Niece. Yes, very well, madam ; for, as I told you, 
 she is an excellent servant, and the more her mis- 
 tress is loath to part with her the harder she is to 
 believe these things of her. 
 
 Aunt. But, niece, her husband, you say, knows it; 
 sure she will believe him. 
 
 Niece. But she alleges he knows it but by hearsay 
 from the rest of the servants, who, she says, hate 
 her, and therefore falsely accuse her. 
 
 V 2
 
 292 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Aunt. But does he know nothing from his own 
 knowledge ? 
 
 Niece. Yes, madam, he knows too much ; for the 
 unwary creature let him overhear her one evening 
 making her jeers of, and flout at him, to some of 
 the servants, but behind his back, for his calling 
 them all to prayers ; and not only so, but at some 
 expressions which he had used some time or other, 
 which she pretended were nonsense, and others 
 trifling, and the like, as the redundancy of her wit 
 gave her room to banter. 
 
 Aunt. That was very unhappy, indeed, and the 
 worse that he should know it too. 
 
 Niece. So it was, madam, for it made the poor 
 gentleman decline performing his duty for some 
 time, and made a very great breach between him 
 and his lady, which is hardly quite made up yet. 
 
 Aunt. Why so, pray ? 
 
 Niece. Why, madam, she wanted to have him 
 continue to go on with his duty, and to pray in the 
 family as he used to do. He declared he could not 
 do it while that creature was to be there ; that it 
 was a restraint to him, and he could not perform 
 when he knew there was one in the place who made 
 a scoff and jeer at him for it. She alleged he ought 
 to perform his duty for all that ; and that it was a 
 piece of the Devil's craft, contrived to interrupt the 
 worship of God in his family, and that he ought to 
 disregard it entirely. 
 
 Aunt. Well, I think he was very much in the 
 wrong in that part, for he certainly ought not to 
 have omitted his duty upon so mean an objection as 
 that. 
 
 Niece. That is true, and he owned it ; but said 
 it was a difficulty upon him, a restraint to him in 
 the performance of his duty, and that she ought to 
 remove it from him.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 293 
 
 Aunt. He ought to have considered, that the less 
 of religion was to be found in his servants, the more 
 reason he had to pray for them, and with them ; 
 that he might perhaps be the occasion of good to 
 them, and of bringing them to the knowledge and 
 love of religion, which would be an advantage he 
 ought to be thankful for, and think it a blessing to 
 his house if it happened so. 
 
 Niece. She did argue just so to him, madam: but 
 he returned it so strong upon her, that she ought, 
 as far as lay in her, to remove every difficulty that 
 lay in the way of his duty ; that it was much more 
 forcible as to her ; for he told her, that if she 
 granted that the difficulty was a snare laid in his 
 way b}'' the Devil, she ought, at the same time that 
 she told him it was his duty to resist it, to do all she 
 could possible, or that lay in her power, to remove 
 the occasion ; otherwise she made herself accessary 
 to the temptation, and assistant to the Devil, in 
 laying a snare for her husband, and much of the sin 
 would lie at her door. 
 
 Aunt. There was a great deal in that, I confess ; 
 and I think she ought to have yielded immediately. 
 Pray what did she say to it ? 
 
 Niece. She insisted that the charge was false ; 
 that her woman denied it, and, as I said before, 
 that it was a malicious design of the other servants ; 
 but in short, the business was, that she was very 
 loath to part with her woman, who, as I said be- 
 fore, was a very good servant, and useful to her 
 divers ways. 
 
 Aunt. But you said that he heard something of 
 it himself Surely she would believe him then. 
 
 Niece. Why she could say nothing to that in- 
 deed ; but she put it off as well as she could, with 
 telling him she would tell her woman of it, and 
 take care she should do so no more.
 
 294 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Aunt. That seemed to be trifling, because it was 
 in a matter of such consequence, as ought not to be 
 trifled with. 
 
 Niece. It was so : but he went yet further ; he 
 entreated her, he begged of her to take away a thing 
 so irksome from him, and which was so much a 
 hinderance to his duty : he told her, that had her 
 servant been a mere ignorant, untaught creature, 
 he should have had no difficulty upon him, but 
 rather it would be an encouragement to do his 
 duty, in hopes of being an instrument of opening 
 her eyes : but for a mocker at religion, and one 
 that not only despised religion itself, but mocked 
 at others for it, this made the case differ exceed- 
 ingly, and he knew not how to get over it. 
 
 Aunt. And would not such arguments as those 
 move her ? 
 
 Niece. Truly, not so much as they should have 
 done. 
 
 Aunt. And pray what was the consequence of 
 it? 
 
 Niece. Truly, madam, the consequences were 
 bad many ways: for, first, it kept the lady and 
 her husband in very ill terms with one another for 
 near two years : and, secondly, that unhappy crea- 
 ture bantered all the other servants of the family 
 out of the little religion they had, and indeed made 
 them all like herself. 
 
 Aunt. And where did it end ? 
 
 Niece. Why, madam, besides this, it broke and 
 put an end to all good order, and to the worship of 
 God in the family ; I mean to all family worship. 
 
 Aunt. What dreadful work was that ! What, 
 and does it continue so still ? 
 
 Niece. No, madam. Her husband, who is a very 
 religious gentleman, could not content himself with 
 living in that manner with his family, and not being
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 295 
 
 able to prevail with his wife to part with her woman, 
 he took so much upon him as to force her out of 
 the house, that is to say, he put away the whole set 
 of servants in the family, (for they were all made 
 alike at last,) and took all new people at once. 
 
 Aunt. And how did the lady take it ? 
 
 Niece. Truly, madam, I cannot say she took it so 
 well as I wish, for her sake, she had : for though 
 her husband and she are very religious, sober, and 
 good people, yet I cannot but say it has broken in 
 very much upon their tempers and affection one to 
 another, and there is not all the harmony between 
 them that there used to be. 
 
 Aunt. And all along of one graceless, irreligious 
 servant. 
 
 Niece. 'Tis very true, madam. 
 
 Aunt. Besides, as you say, ruining the morals of 
 the rest of the servants. 
 
 Niece. Yes, madam. 
 
 Aunt. Pray how did that appear among them "i 
 
 Niece. Why, madam, in the first place, she made 
 all religious things her jest ; turned all that was 
 said to them at church, or in the family, that had 
 anything serious in it, into banter and ridicule, and 
 laughed them out of everything that looked like re- 
 ligion. She represented religion to be a mere piece 
 af state policy and priestcraft, contrived between 
 the clergy and the statesmen, only to subject the 
 world to their management. The ministers and 
 servants of Jesus Christ set apart for the altar, and 
 whose business it is to preach salvation to a lost 
 world, by a glorious but crucified Redeemer, she 
 despised with the lowest or last degree of contempt, 
 calling them mercenaries and tradesmen, the church 
 their idol, and the pulpit their shop, where they 
 sold what they called the word of God to who bid 
 most ; and such-like horrid and blasphemous stuff.
 
 296 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 When the honest servants would have gone to 
 church with their master and mistress, she would 
 carry them away into the fields, or to make some 
 visit or other, and continually turn them ofF from 
 what was religious to something of levity and diver- 
 sion, as a more suitable work for the Sabbath-day ; 
 and still, when she had brought them to break in 
 upon conscience, and to profane the Sabbath-day, 
 she would fall foul of religion for laying the burden 
 of rules upon the liberties of the world ; and all she 
 did or said was with a great deal of wit, and, by way 
 of sarcasm, as sharp and as clean as if she had been 
 a philosopher, or a doctor in theology. 
 
 Aunt. She was the more dangerous. 
 
 Niece. She was so indeed, for she had a tongue 
 of a siren ; 'twas neatly hung, but hellishly em- 
 ployed, for she delighted in making everybody as 
 bad as herself. 
 
 Aunt. Your story is so very good, let me tell you 
 another. 
 
 Niece. I should be glad to hear it, madam. But 
 if you please to put it off till by and by ; for I see 
 your servant waits to speak with you. 
 
 (She whispers her maid.) 
 
 Aunt. She does so indeed ; 'tis to call us to 
 dinner. Well, we will talk again of this part ; for 
 I am very much of your opinion, niece, about taking 
 no profane, irreligious servants, if you can help it. 
 
 The end of the first dialogue. 
 
 DIALOGUE II. 
 
 In the evening, the lady and her niece taking a 
 walk in the garden, had a further conversation upon
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 297 
 
 the same subject, and the niece said to her aunt, 
 which began the dialogue. Madam, when we left off 
 our discourse in the morning, you were pleased to 
 say, at the end of my story of an irreligious, profane 
 
 wench, that my neighbour 3Irs. had been 
 
 troubled with, that you would tell me a story of an- 
 other. 
 
 Aunt. I did so, child ; it is of a family that lives 
 at that house just over the way, in the back lane. 
 (^She points to a house that could be seeti over the 
 garden wall.) The people are dissenters ; the gentle- 
 woman is a very sober, religious, good sort of a 
 person, indeed ; and her husband is a very grave, 
 religious man, also. They endeavour to take ser- 
 vants of their own persuasion as much as they can ; 
 but that is sometimes very difficult to do ; and she 
 has indeed had very bad luck that way. However, 
 this gentlewoman, as she told me herself, having 
 occasion to hire a maid -servant, I forgot whether 
 she was cook or chambermaid, or what else, for 
 they kept three or four: but after she had agreed 
 in everything else, she asked her maid (that was to 
 be) what religion she was of. 
 
 Madam, says the maid, blushing, (for she looked 
 mighty sober,) that is a question I don't understand 
 very well. 
 
 Why says the mistress, I hope you are a protest- 
 ant ? I don't mean whether you are a papist or no. 
 
 Yes, madam, says the maid, I think I am a pro- 
 testant. 
 
 Nay, says the mistress, do you think so ? but 
 then, I doubt, you don't think much about it. 
 
 Not so much as I should do, madam, says the 
 maid, and looked very simply and innocently at the 
 discourse. 
 
 Niece. Not expecting, it may be, to be asked such 
 questions.
 
 298 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Aunt. No, I believe not ; for they are questions 
 that I think none of us ask so much as we should do, 
 when we hire servants. 
 
 Niece, Servants value themselves so much now, 
 that they would take it as out of the way to be asked 
 about these things. 
 
 Aunt. Well, if I have any servants, they shall all 
 be asked such questions, and answer them too, or 
 they shall be no servants to me. 
 
 Niece. I am of the same mind, madam, if I can 
 possibly find servants that will submit to it. 
 
 Aunt. Child, if they won't submit before they are 
 hired, to tell me what religion they are of, what 
 are they like to submit to, after they are hired, 
 about religion, or anything else ? 
 
 Niece. Why really madam, I have had two or 
 three that made a great deal of difficulty to do it, 
 and thought it very much out of the way to have me 
 ask them about it. 
 
 Aunt. And did you take them after that ? 
 
 Niece. Why truly, yes, I did take two of them. 
 
 Aunt. And were they good for anything when 
 you had them? 
 
 Niece. Indeed they were good for very little, I 
 must confess. 
 
 Aunt. It may be possible indeed, that a wench 
 may be a good servant, that is not a good Chris- 
 tian ; but I must acknowledge it is but very 
 seldom that it proves so ; but when a good servant 
 is a good Christian too, such a one is ten times the 
 more valuable for a servant, as well as for her 
 religion. 
 
 Niece. It is true, madam : but what shall we 
 say, that some that are good Christians, are never- 
 theless not good servants ; nay, there is a kind of a 
 scandal upon those we call religious servants, that 
 they are generally saucy, reserved, and value them*.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 299 
 
 selves too much upon it, always making conditions 
 with you, and claiming times and liberties on account 
 of religious affairs, which are neither proper for the 
 work of religion, and perhaps not employed so, when 
 granted. 
 
 Aunt. That brings me back to the story I was 
 telling you, at least to one part of it. 
 
 Niece. I am sorry I interrupted it then. Pray 
 madam, go on with it. 
 
 Aunt. I told you the gentlewoman my neighbour 
 asked the wench about her religion, and how mo- 
 destly she answered. However, her mistress put 
 an end to that kind of discourse, and said, Look ye, 
 sweetheart, I shall not catechise you too far ; the 
 question is, whether you have been bred to the 
 church or the meeting-house ? for I tell you before- 
 hand, we are all dissenters, and go to the meeting. 
 
 Niece. That was too open, she might have first 
 heard what the maid said of herself. 
 
 Aunt, No, no ; she was willing to let her know 
 first, and see what answer she would give to it, not 
 doubting, but that if she gave an answer not founded 
 upon principle, she should find it out. 
 
 Niece. Well, madam, perhaps she would be any- 
 thing to get a good place. 
 
 Aunt. As to that, she made herself judge of it 
 from her answer, which was very honest indeed, 
 though not to her mistress's satisfaction at all. 
 
 Niece. Why madam, if it was honest, why should 
 it not satisfy her mistress ? 
 
 Aunt. 'Twas an answer which discovered the un- 
 happy consequences of divided families, and shows 
 much of the necessity of what we have had so many 
 dialogues about, in the case of yourself and your' 
 sisters. 
 
 Niece. What about husbands and wives being of 
 the same opinion, madam ?
 
 300 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Aunt. Yes : she told her mistress that her father 
 went to the meetings, and her mother went to the 
 church. 
 
 Niece. What was that to the question of what 
 religion or opinion she was ? 
 
 Aunt. Yes, my dear, she asked her what she was 
 bred to, and it was a proper answer. 
 
 Niece. That's true ; and so between both, I sup- 
 pose she was bred to be indifferent to either. 
 
 Aunt. No, my dear, 'twas worse than that ; and 
 her mistress took it immediately; for she turned 
 pretty quick upon the wench ; And so, sweetheart, 
 says she, I suppose you were bred between them, 
 and go neither to one or t'other. 
 
 Yes, madam, says the maid, sometimes I went to 
 one, and sometimes to t'other. 
 
 And sometimes to neither, says the mistress. 
 
 My father and mother were poor people, madam, 
 says she. 
 
 Poor people ! says the mistress, what then, child ? 
 They might have carried you to serve God with them, 
 one where or other; their poverty did not hinder that. 
 
 That's true, madam, says the maid, but they 
 could not agree about it. 
 
 Niece. So, in short, the poor girl was left, between i 
 them, without any government or instruction ; I sup- 
 pose that must be the case : a sad example of a fa- 
 mily where the husband goes one way and the wife 
 another. 
 
 Aunt. Ay, so it was : however, she answered upon i 
 the whole, that she was very willing to go to the 
 meeting, since her mistress desired it. 
 
 Niece. That was to say, she was perfectly indif- ■ 
 ferent in the matter, and it would have been the 
 same thing to her, if her mistress had been a church i 
 woman, or a Roman catholic, or a Jew, or anything: 
 or nothing. >
 
 ilELIGIOTJS COURTSHIP. 301 
 
 Aunt But her mistress did not take it so ; but 
 seemed satisfied, that she agreed to go to the meet- 
 ing, and so took her into the house. 
 
 Niece. And pray, madam, what came of it ? how- 
 did she prove ? 
 
 Aunt. Why just as a poor uneducated ignorant 
 creature would prove. She went with them to the 
 meeting, but pretended to the servants she did not 
 like it, and she had rather go to church. So her 
 mistress taking an opportunity of talking with her 
 again one day, told her what she had heard in the 
 house of her, and asked her if she had said that she 
 did not like going to the meetings, but had rather 
 go to church ; and she said that indeed she did 
 say so, but she meant nothing of harm. 
 
 Well, says her mistress, 1 never desire to offer 
 violence to any servant's conscience ; if you had 
 rather go to church, you shall go to church, though 
 you know what you said to me, when I hired you, 
 that you were very willing to go to the meeting. 
 
 That was very true, she said, and she had not 
 said otherwise now; but she said only, that she had 
 rather go to church: however, if she pleased, she 
 would stay at home. 
 
 No, no, says the mistress, I'll have no staying at 
 home, I will have all my servants go to the public 
 worship of God somewhere; staying at home may 
 be as much mis-spending the Sabbath-day as going 
 abroad for pleasure : therefore go to church, Betty, 
 says her mistress, by all means ; I am not so much 
 against going to church, as to think that they do not 
 serve and worship God there ; by all means, if you 
 do not care to go to the meeting, go to church : 'tis 
 certainly your duty to go somewhere, and mine to 
 oblige you to it. 
 
 Niece. That was spoken like a woman of very 
 good principles.
 
 302 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Atmt. She is a very good sort of a person, I assure 
 you, and generally governs herself upon good prin- 
 ciples, principles of justice and of charity, which is a 
 great part of religion. 
 
 Niece. Well, pray what followed ? 
 
 Aunt. Why she went to church, as she said ; but 
 in a little while her mistress began to suspect her ; 
 and once or twice she betrayed herself, and dis- 
 covered among the servants that she had been 
 rambling about, but had not been at church at all. 
 Upon this suspicion her mistress told her one day 
 very calmly, that she had some reason to suspect 
 that her saying she had rather go to church than 
 to the meeting, was not a sincere dislike of one, or 
 approving of one more than of the other, but really 
 a project of her own to have the liberty of spending 
 the Sabbath-day nowhere, that is to say, in running 
 about, as she had been suffered to do when she was 
 at home with her father and mother. 
 
 She replied, with some confidence, that indeed it 
 was not so ; and began to be more positive about 
 her having been at church than her mistress de- 
 sired she should be, because she knew she told her 
 what was false. However, she run on, told her mis-s- 
 tress a lie or two, which she knew to be so, and in- 
 sisted that she desired to go to church because she 
 liked to serve God in that way better than the 
 other: so her mistress let it pass for that time,, 
 and she went to church as usual, that is to say,, 
 went where she pleased, for some time. 
 
 At last she was trapped accidentally, and could' 
 not get off any manner of way ; for going rambling 
 for her pleasure with some of the neighbouring ser- 
 vants, men and maids together, (for by this time 
 she had got a gang like herself,) and going to cross ^ 
 the road about a mile from the town, a young citizen, , 
 that was spending the Sabbath-day on horseback, ast!
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 303 
 
 she was spending it on foot, I mean in pleasure, 
 coming just up at that minute, his horse started at 
 something, I know not at what, and giving a spring 
 forward, run against the poor wench, beat her down, 
 and threw him off a little further, and hurt him too, 
 very much. 
 
 Niece. And what became of the poor girl ? 
 
 Aunt. Why, she was more frighted than anything 
 else ; but she had a kick or bruise by the horse on 
 her knee, or the horse trod on her knee, she could 
 not tell which ; but by that means she was lamed, 
 and could not get home till about eight o'clock at 
 night, when her mistress, coming to the knowledge 
 of it, sent the coach for her, and brought her home. 
 
 Niece. Then there was a full discovery, indeed. 
 
 Aiijit. Ay, so there was ; for the neighbours' ser- 
 vants, that were with her, owned where they had 
 been, and with whom, and told honestly that they 
 had been at a cake-house to be merry. 
 
 Niece. It was no crime, perhaps, in the families 
 where they lived. 
 
 Aunt. No, none at all ; or at least no notice was 
 taken of it, especially since they were only with 
 neighbours, and, as they called it, were in no bad 
 company. 
 
 Niece. But what did she do with her maid ? 
 
 Aunt. Why her maid was the same ; she was 
 sorry for a while, and pretended she would never go 
 abroad for pleasure again on a Sabbath-day : but 
 that held but a little while, she was the same again 
 a little while after : so her mistress resolved to part 
 with her, for she two or three times enticed the 
 other servants to go abroad with her, and still, when 
 they had been missed, the answer was, they went 
 to church with Betty ; and then if Betty was asked, 
 she would lie very readily too, and say yes. At last 
 this came out too, and Betty was called to an ac-
 
 304 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 count for it, and when she could deny it no longer, 
 then she would own it, but promised to alter it, and 
 do so no more. At length her mistress, who was 
 in a little strait still, and loath to put any force upon 
 the wench about going to the meeting, told her 
 she could not bear these things, and gave her warn- 
 ing. 
 
 Niece. It was time to part with her, when she 
 found she spoiled the rest of the servants. 
 
 Aunt. Well ; but the wench, very loath to leave a 
 good place, came to her mistress, and begged her to 
 let her stay, and she would go to the meeting, and 
 then she should be sure she did not ramble any more 
 on the Sabbath-day. 
 
 Niece. So that 'twas plain she would serve God 
 any way for a good place ; and that was what I said 
 of her as soon as I heard her first answer. 
 
 Aunt. But her mistress acted upon another prin- 
 ciple still, and she refused her ; No, says she, Betty, 
 you declared in the house that you used to go to 
 church, that you did not like the meetings, and that 
 you had rather go to church ; now I will not have 
 anybody forced from going to church to please me ; 
 if you had been one that was bred to go to the 
 meeting, 1 had been better pleased, because I have 
 been so brought up myself; but if you choose to go 
 to church, because you like to serve God after that 
 manner, better than in the way I go, God forbid I 
 should put any force upon you : I doubt not but you 
 may serve and worship God very acceptably either 
 way ; but if you go to the meeting, which you do 
 not like, 'tis only to keep your place, which you do 
 like ; 'tis plain to me you will worship God nowhere, . 
 for you cannot be said to worship God in a way you i 
 do not like. 
 
 Niece. She was too nice, I think, and talked to 
 an ignorant wretch in language that she did not
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 305 
 
 understand ; she might e'en ha' let her gone any- 
 where, for 'twas plain she would serve God no- 
 where. 
 
 Aunt. Well, she acted on her own principles, 
 however. 
 
 Niece. But what did she do with the maid, then ? 
 
 Awit. Why she made her a new proposal : Look 
 ye, Betty, says her mistress, if you Vill go to church 
 honestly, and satisfy me that you do so, and that 
 you do not, under a pretence of going to church, go 
 abroad and spend your time idly, 1 shall be easy ; 
 for this was all the reason why at first I asked you 
 where you went, and told you I expected you should 
 go with me ; not that I am against anybody's going 
 to church, but because 1 desired they should serve 
 God, and not ramble abroad. Betty promised 
 heartily : Ay, but, says her mistress, how shall I be 
 satisfied of the performance ? Betty stood hard to 
 have her word to be taken for it ; but that would 
 not do, because she had broke her promise before, 
 and had told some lies too about the other servants 
 going to church with her, as above. W^ell, Betty, 
 says her mistress, I'll put you in a way to satisfy me 
 effectually : you know the clerk of the parish lives 
 just by, and in your way to the church ; his wife is 
 a very sober, good woman, and I know never fails of 
 going to church, if she be well ; now if you will go 
 every Sunday with her, I'll answer for it that if 
 you are not there she will be true to me, and so 
 kind to you as to tell me of it, and this shall satisfy 
 me. 
 
 Niece. If the clerk's wife was so faithful to be 
 trusted, it was right ; but that was a doubtful thing, 
 for she would be loath, I reckon, to ruin the poor 
 wench for failing now and then. 
 
 Aunt. Well, the short of the story was this : 
 R. c. X
 
 306 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Betty was Betty still ; an ill habit and want of prin- 
 ciple led her away ; she seldom came to church, 
 and the clerk's wife would lie for her ; and so at 
 last her mistress turned her away. And thus 1 
 think all servants, men and maids, should be served, 
 would the masters and mistresses do their duty ; 
 and if this was universally practised, servants would 
 serve God, and* their mistresses too, better than 
 they do. 
 
 Niece. They would so indeed, and for want of it, 
 they serve neither God nor their mistresses. 'Tis 
 a want of a religious regard to the well-ordering of 
 servants that makes them as they are. 
 
 Aunt. Well, but I have another story to tell you, 
 of the same gentlewoman ; for after this she took a 
 servant that she thought must necessarily be reli- 
 gious ; for she was bred to the meetings from her 
 infancy ; but it seems she was not of the same sort 
 as her mistress ; but she told her where she used to 
 go, and capitulated for liberty to go to the same 
 meeting still. This her mistress readily consented 
 to, not doubting but that one that was under such 
 obligations, would certainly be careful to do her 
 duty ; and when she mentioned to the maid that she 
 was very ready to yield to her going where she said 
 she went, that she only desired to be satisfied that 
 her servants did really go where they said they went, 
 the maid seemed a little surprised that she should 
 be thought capable of so wicked a thing as that, and 
 so stopped her mistress's mouth with her character. 
 
 Niece. Well, madam, then I hope she had one to 
 her mind. 
 
 Aunt. At the same time her husband had a man- 
 servant, who was a very religious, devout fellow, and 
 he was a churchman. He truly conditioned, that 
 he would be at liberty to go to church, which upon 
 
 11
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 307 
 
 their being satisfied that he was really a well- 
 meaning, sober, and serious fellow, they easily con- 
 sented to. 
 
 Niece. I thought you said they insisted on their 
 servants going to worship God where they did. 
 
 Aunt. I told you they desired it, but that it was 
 chiefly that they might be sure to have orderly ser- 
 vants, and that they did observe the Lord's-day, and 
 worshipped God in some place or other, not mis- 
 spending the Sabbath ; otherwise they were persons 
 of a large charity, and of a true Christian temper to 
 those from whom they differed. 
 
 Niece. Well, but to return to their servants, how 
 did they prove ? 
 
 Aunt. Only the worst that ever were heard of. 
 
 Niece. What ! both of them ? 
 
 Aunt. Ay, ay, both of them. The wench was 
 saucy, rigid, censorious ; took upon her to find fault 
 that her master and mistress, who were cheerful and 
 good-tempered people, were not serious enough ; 
 she would not come into their family worship, be- 
 cause she said, 'tis sorrily performed, and she did 
 not like it ; when her mistress entertained any 
 friends, she did not like it, 'twas wicked, and it was 
 loose and extravagant, and had too much luxury in 
 it, and the like. 
 
 Niece. She should have been mistress, and not 
 maid. 
 
 Aunt. Her mistress told her so indeed, one day, 
 when overhearing some of her talk by accident, she 
 called her to her, and speaking something angrily to 
 her, Jane, says she, answer me one question : what 
 did I hire you for ? Jane was a little surprised at 
 first, not understanding the question, and said no- 
 thing, till her mistress repeated the question by 
 way of explanation thus, Jane, pray did I hire you 
 to do my work and to be my servant ? 
 
 x2
 
 308 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Yes, madam, says Jane. 
 
 Well then, says her mistress, pray do your busi- 
 ness, and behave like a servant, as becomes you, or 
 remove, and provide yourself; and when I want a 
 schoolmistress to teach me how to behave in my 
 family, I'll send for you. 
 
 Niece. That was right ; that was acting like a 
 mistress ; pray what said Jane to it ? 
 
 Aunt. She was confounded, and struck dumb at 
 first, but her mistress explained it to her afterwards. 
 
 Niece. But pray what was she for a servant ? 
 
 Aunt. O ! a most extraordinary accomplished 
 slattern, and a surly, heavy, unmannerly creature, 
 that looked always as if she thought herself fitter to 
 be mistress, than her that was so ; did everything 
 with reluctance, awkward and disrespectful, and yet 
 wilful, and above being taught, dull to the last de- 
 gree, but scorned reproof. 
 
 Niece. Certainly she had more of the pretence to 
 religion than of the reality ; for Christianity teaches 
 us to fill up every relative duty with equal exactness 
 and with a suitable diligence and application. 
 
 Aunt. Why, to bring my story to a point, she had 
 the outside of religion only ; whether she took it 
 up with a design to deceive, or whether she deceived 
 herself, and fell from what she at first professed, I 
 know not ; but she fell quite off from religion itself 
 at last ; and adding to that some follies, which I 
 choose to say nothing of, my good neighbour turned 
 her off, and got rid of her. 
 
 Niece. There she was cheated in her own way. 
 
 Au7it. She was so, and I told her of it ; but she 
 answered me with a saying which I have often made 
 use of before, and that with relation to myself; I 
 am never, said she, in so much danger to be cheated, 
 as when people pretend to be religious ; for then I 
 think they dare not do such things as I am afraid of.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 309 
 
 {Here the second sister came into the room, and 
 finding what discourse they were engaged in, after 
 her respects paid to her aunt, and to her sister, she 
 desired they would go on with their discourse, for 
 that she knew the subject, and it was what she came 
 071 purpose to have a share in.) 
 
 Aunt. I was telling your sister how a lady of my 
 acquaintance was cheated with two religious ser- 
 vants. 
 
 Sec. Niece. I heard the last part ; and she was a 
 nice one indeed. 
 
 Aunt. O ! I have not told you half of her behavi- 
 our 
 
 Sec. Niece. Well, but madam, how did it fare 
 with the man-servant ; how did he behave ? 
 
 Aunt. Why every jot as ill another way : when 
 he should be at hand to be called, and when his 
 master wanted him on any occasion, he was gone to 
 church to prayers ; and when prayers were done, he 
 would often fall in as he came home, at a certain 
 alehouse that unhappily stood in the way home, and 
 I think, once or twice came home drunk. 
 
 Sec. Niece. Fine things indeed for a conscientious 
 wretch ! these were religious servants it seems. 
 
 Aunt. Hold, niece! religion, no, nor any profes- 
 sion or opinion in religion is not altered one way or 
 other, by the mistakes and miscarriages of those that 
 make a profession of it. The eleven blessed apos- 
 tles were not at all the worse, or is the memory of 
 them to be the less reverenced, for the twelfth being 
 a devil ; nor must we expect that all our servants 
 shall be saints, when they are what we call religi- 
 ous : all people have failings, religion does not 
 always change natural tempers. 
 
 Sec. Niece. But we should expect they should be 
 Christians and servants too. Religion never takes 
 away good manners, or privileges servants from ob-
 
 310 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 serving the due space which nature has put between 
 the person to be served, and the person serving. 
 
 Fir. Niece. The great thing I insist upon taking 
 religious servants for, is, that they may be examples 
 in a family, of sobriety, quiet submission, diligence 
 and seriousness, to their fellow-servants ; that they 
 be encouragers, not hinderers of God's worship in 
 the house; that the whole family may cheerfully 
 unite in serving God, and in all religious rules and 
 orders ; that if an ignorant and untaught creature 
 is taken into the house, they may be instructed and 
 led by the hand into the proper duties of a Christian; 
 that all the house may be a class of Christians, doing 
 their duty in their respective places, both from a 
 principle of justice and of charity. 
 
 Aimt. But 'tis very rare, niece, to find what you 
 speak of 
 
 Fir. Niece. It is so, madam : but then, since it is 
 not probable we should always find such, all that I 
 insist on in the mean time is, that we should take 
 care, as near as possible, to take those that are well 
 inclined, and well educated : not enemies to all re- 
 ligion, not such as make a mock of worshipping their 
 Maker, or observing his rules ; such I would not 
 entertain at all, on any account whatsoever ; they 
 would be a continual offence in a sober family. 
 
 Sec. Niece. But there are some that may be in 
 the middle way, no enemies to religion, not mockers 
 at all sober things, and yet not much stored with 
 serious thoughts, not void of principle, nor void of 
 modesty. 
 
 Aunt. Why, it is true, there are some such, and 
 I know not what to say to such ; I would rather 
 have them than the other. 
 
 Fir. Niece. I like those but a little better, I would 
 have neither of them if I could help it. 
 
 Aunt, It is true that they always discover a
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 311 
 
 coldness and backwardness to every good thing, 
 and secretly despise the most serious things as well 
 as the other : but good manners restrains them a 
 little from insulting the family. I do not like such, 
 I confess. 
 
 Sec. Niece. But they may be better borne with, 
 madam, than the first sort. 
 
 Aunt. Well, but your sister here is so far from 
 approving that sort, that even if they were seriously 
 religious, she would not entertain them, if they 
 were of a different opinion ; she is of the same 
 notion with my cook-maid, that I told you the story 
 of, that all differing opinions in religion, will, in 
 such creatures as these, despise and contemn those 
 that differ from them, and either hate or make 
 a jest of one another. 
 
 Sec. Niece. My sister, it may be, is grown rigid 
 that way, from the disaster of the family with re- 
 spect to her husband and herself; but in carrying 
 it so far, then, she will make it almost impossible 
 to have any servants at all, but such as we bring up 
 ourselves. 
 
 Fir. Niece. It is no matter for that ; I am positive 
 in it, with respect to a family's peace, and the har- 
 mony of religious worship in any family, it is all 
 destroyed and lost by these little difficulties : as 
 long as there are servants to be had, and I could 
 pay wages, I would change five hundred servants, 
 till I found one to my purpose ; nor should any fit- 
 ness for my business, or any goodness of humour in 
 a servant, prevail with me to keep her, if she 
 wanted the main article of religion, and the same 
 opinion of religion too with my own. 
 
 Aunt. I am afraid, child, you would change 
 five hundred indeed then, before you would be 
 fitted. 
 
 Fir. Niece. Why, madam, I hope I am not of
 
 312 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 such Strange principles and opinions, that nobody 
 can be found of those opinions but me. 
 
 Aunt. No, my dear ; but servants have rarely 
 any notions of those things, or enter far into them. 
 
 Fir. Niece. Well, madam, I would venture it, for 
 I would no more entertain those who differed from 
 my opinion in religion, than I would entertain those 
 that had none at all ; for the difference in opinion 
 in servants, has more mischiefs in it sometimes, 
 than the other. 
 
 Aunt. I grant it would be very well to have ser- 
 vants of the same opinion in religion with ourselves, 
 but it cannot be always so; the first and main 
 point that I have made my rule, has been, to have 
 servants that are religiously inclined in general, 
 and that are willing to be instructed ; these, having 
 a modest sober behaviour in the main, are more 
 easily brought to comply with religious things in the 
 family, whether they are the same way that they 
 were first inclined to, or not; such as these are 
 often brought, by good examples in the house, to be 
 of the same opinion with ourselves. 
 
 Sec. Niece. Such are, indeed, a great tie upon 
 masters and mistresses of families to take care that 
 we recommend the profession we make of religion 
 by a good example ; for servants are not likely to 
 turn to our opinion, or embrace with us the part 
 which we take in religion, when they see us not 
 practising the things we pretend to teach, and not 
 winning them to our opinion by a conversation be- 
 coming religion. 
 
 Aunt. It is very true, niece, and would masters 
 and mistresses keep upon their minds a sense of 
 what influence their conduct may have upon their 
 servants ; how they may be the means of bringing , 
 them to a serious embracing of religion, or to a ' 
 greater levity and indifference, than it may be they
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 313 
 
 had before, as they see a good or ill example in 
 those they serve, we should have much better mas- 
 ters and mistresses than we have, and more reli- 
 gious servants too. 
 
 Fir. Niece. That's very true, and it were to be 
 wished it were well observed. But since it is not 
 always so, I cannot reconcile it to common reason- 
 ing, that we should take servants of any principles 
 or opinion of religion, but such as we profess our- 
 selves. 
 
 Aunt. If it can be avoided. 
 
 Fir. Niece. Certainly, it may be avoided if we 
 will. 
 
 Sec. Niece. You would except such as, being ig- 
 norant and untaught, profess themselves willing to 
 come into religious families that they may be guided 
 into good things by teaching and example. 
 
 Fir. Niece. Yes, I do except such ; for such are 
 to be moulded this way or that, as Providence casts 
 them into religious or irreligious families. 
 
 Aunt. We agree in that part exactly ; and in- 
 deed, were I to choose, I would rather take a ser- 
 vant who, being ignorant in religious matters, was 
 yet sober, and willing to be instructed : I say, much 
 rather than take one fixed in his or her religious 
 opinion, and that opinion differing from my own. 
 
 Fir. Niece. Indeed, madam, I am positive in that 
 point ; I cannot go from it ; I would not take one 
 that differed from me in opinion in religion by any 
 means ; no, upon no account at all ; it is attended 
 with nothing but confusion in ftie family : I would 
 almost as soon take a loose profane wench, that 
 owned no religion at all : I have seen so much of it, 
 and found such inconveniences in having religious 
 quarrels and differences in the family by it, that I 
 think 'tis unsufferable : I told you the story of our 
 poor negro, that would turn Christian : we had one
 
 314 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 servant a papist, and he would have the boy a Ro- 
 man catholic ; another would have him be a Church 
 of England protestant ; and another would have had 
 him been a presbyterian : 'twas a reproach even to 
 the name of Christian, to hear how one told him he 
 would be damned if he was this ; another told 
 him he would be damned if he was that ; and the 
 other told him he would be damned if he was 
 either of them, and so of the rest ; so that the poor 
 boy was almost distracted among them, as I told 
 you at large before. 
 
 Aunt. Without entering into examples, I grant 
 'tis very pernicious, and a great obstruction to 
 family religion, and that many ways. 
 
 Sec. Niece. Were there a spirit of peace and 
 charity always to be found, where there was an out- 
 ward appearance of religion, it would be quite 
 otherwise ; but that is not our case in this age. 
 You see, madam, what was the case in your neigh- 
 bour's family, where the religious servants, I mean 
 appearingly religious, were the worst servants, and 
 the worst Christians, they could have met with. 
 
 Aunt. I did not bring those examples to lessen 
 the value of good, serious, religious servants; but 
 to hint to you the danger there is (among those 
 that call themselves such) to find hypocrites, and 
 also to note, that religion does not always make a 
 good servant. 
 
 Sec. Niece. It ought to do so, and would do so, if 
 the rules of Christianity were faithfully observed. 
 
 Aunt. But it is not always so, and therefore, as I 
 say, I would not take a servant that was not reli- 
 gious, or religiously inclined ; so I do not say, that 
 I would not for the sake of their being serious and 
 religiously inclined, take a bad servant ; for reli- 
 gion does not always qualify a servant. 
 
 Sec. Niece. No, madam, religion does not make
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 315 
 
 them good-humoured, cleanly, active, diligent and 
 mannerly, and the like ; it will make them faithful 
 and honest, that is inseparable, but there is many a 
 good Christian that makes a bad servant. 
 
 Atmt. But I know some of them expect we should 
 bear with all the rest, for what they call religious. 
 
 Fir. Niece. And perhaps are not so at bottom 
 neither. 
 
 Azmt Nay, that sort of them are generally other- 
 wise, and put on an appearance of religion only to 
 disguise themselves the more dexterously, and these 
 are the religious servants that I am aptest to be de- 
 ceived by ; but there are some of the other too. 
 
 Sec. Niece. 'Tis one of the worst parts of a hypo- 
 crite, I think, when they study to cover a vicious 
 life with the mask of religion. 
 
 Amif. But I think too, that it is soonest dis- 
 covered. 
 
 Sec. Niece. It may indeed be sooner discovered 
 than other disguises, because the levity is apt to 
 break out at proper intervals, in spite of the utmost 
 caution : but the mischief is often done first, when 
 the discovery is too late to prevent it ; and there- 
 fore, upon the whole, there is a great risk in taking 
 servants, that we are not very well assured of, one 
 way or other. 
 
 Fir. Niece. But I hope you do not argue for 
 being indifferent in the case. 
 
 Sec. Niece. No, no, very far from it ; but I own, 
 'tis a critical case. 
 
 Fir. Niece. Let it be as critical as it will, 'tis ab- 
 solutely necessary to be taken care of, if we will 
 have religious servants. 'Tis a sad thing to have 
 the master and mistress praying in one part of the 
 house, and the men and maids swearing or railing, 
 or laughing or jeering, in another part of it. Next
 
 316 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 to having the master and mistress religious, it is 
 essential to a religious family, to have the servants 
 religious too. 
 
 Sec. Niece. If it be possible to find such. 
 
 Fir. Niece. They must be found religious, or be 
 made so. 
 
 Sec. Niece. 'Tis but coarse work to new-mould a 
 servant : as you find them, you have them, gene- 
 rally. Most of the servants of this age are uncapa- 
 ble enough to be meddled with. I mean as to in- 
 struction. 
 
 Aunt. I cannot say so : I am thankful that I can 
 say that I have had a loose, wicked, irreligious 
 servant or two, who, by taking some pains with 
 them, have been brought to be very serious and 
 very religious. 
 
 Sec. Niece. Then they have thanked God for 
 your bettering them by your instruction. 
 
 Aunt. So they have, I assure you, niece. 
 
 Fir. Niece. But they were originally of a docible, 
 tractable temper, then, which is very rare among 
 servants. But, madam, allow you could take that 
 task upon you, and your application had success, 
 you would not expect that every mistress like you, 
 should set up for an instructor of their servants. 
 
 Aunt. No, no ; but it is not so hopeless a thing, 
 however, as you may imagine : for if a girl has any 
 modesty, she cannot but listen a little to the in- 
 struction of those that wish her so well, and that 
 have so little obligation upon them to do it. 
 
 Fir. Niece. Why, madam, an untaught wench, 
 that is modest and willing to be instructed, I take, 
 as I said before, to be among the number that are 
 fit to be taken : the very example of a religious 
 family will make her religious also. 
 
 Aunt. My dear, you touch us all there, and that
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 317 
 
 upon a nice point too ; it must be confessed that it 
 is because there are so few religious families, that 
 there are so few religious servants. 
 
 Fir. Niece. That is true, madam ; but on the 
 other hand, loose, profane, irreligious servants, are 
 a great hinderance to the setting up religious 
 families. Those I am utterly against. 
 
 Aunt. And that is the reason, child, that I say 
 they should not be taken into our families. 
 
 Fir. Niece. And should be turned out again as 
 soon as discovered, and that without any certificate 
 given them of their good behaviour, or without 
 giving them what we call a good character. 
 
 Aunt. We cannot deny them a certificate, child, 
 when they have not wronged or robbed us, the law 
 requires that of us. 
 
 Fir. Niece. But then, madam, the certificate 
 should mention that I dismiss such a man, or such 
 a maid, for being a profane, irreligious person, or 
 for breaking the Sabbath-day, or for not going to 
 church, when ordered to go there, or for going 
 abroad to be merry, when they should have been at 
 church, and such like, as the case may happen to 
 be. 
 
 Aunt. I own there is a great deal of reason to do 
 so ; but we are apt to think it hard to do so, and 
 that it is taking a poor servant's livelihood from 
 them. 
 
 Fir. Niece. But we should consider too, how 
 much harder it is to push a profligate wretch into a 
 sober family, under the recommendation of a false 
 character. We cannot say we do justice to our 
 neighbour, or to do as we would be done by: for 
 still I go back to what we both said before, that ir- 
 religious servants are a great hinderance to masters 
 and mistresses in setting up religious rules and 
 exercises in their families.
 
 318 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Aunt Ay, and a great discouragement in carry- 
 ing them on, when they are set up ; and for both 
 those reasons, I would advise all my friends to take 
 no servants that had not some sense of religion 
 upon them. 
 
 Sec. Niece. I join heartily with my sister in her 
 opinion, if such servants can be had ; but what 
 then must be done when we get irreligious and 
 profane creatures into our houses and cannot help 
 it ; or find them so, when we expected the con- 
 trary ? 
 
 Aunt. No ! my dear ! the case is plain ; we must 
 not let servants laugh us out of our religion : we 
 must go on in the way of our duty, and set up the 
 worship of God in the house ; and as often as we 
 find the servants flout at it, or contemn it, return 
 the contempt upon themselves, and turn them out, 
 but go on to perform the duty : turn them all away 
 that pretend to behave irreverently, or pretend to 
 mock or scoff at it ; I say, turn them all away, and 
 let it be the standing known rule in the family, that 
 all the servants that come may hear of it as soon 
 as they converse in the house ; then they will know 
 what they have to trust to, and will behave ac- 
 cordingly. 'Tis omitting our duty in our families, 
 not our performing it, that makes servants mock. 
 When they see us religious to-day, and wicked 
 to-morrow, they may well scoff; but where serious 
 religion is steadily maintained in a family, it com- 
 mands that awe and reverence of servants, that they 
 grow religious of course. Thus one good family 
 breeds good servants for another, and the good ex- 
 amples of a sober family, make the servants all 
 sober. 
 
 Sec. Niece. I acknowledge all that : but I have 
 not practised that part indeed, of turning them 
 away for their irreligious profane carriage when
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 319 
 
 discovered. I have endeavoured to get religious 
 servants ; but when T have found them otherwise, I 
 have not turned them off, which indeed I should 
 have done. 
 
 Aunt. So far you are wrong, my dear ; for why 
 not put away a coachman or chambermaid as well 
 for being wicked as idle, for being an offender 
 against Heaven, as well as for being an offender 
 against ourselves ? I think the reasoning is every 
 way as good. 
 
 Sec. Niece. It may hold in many cases. 
 
 Aunt. Indeed, niece, I think it will hold in all 
 cases ; and I can give you some instances, where 
 servants knowing it before, have behaved much the 
 better on that account : but 'tis late now, we will 
 talk of that part another time. 
 
 The end of the second dialogue. 
 
 DIALOGUE III. 
 
 A FEW days after this lady and her two nieces had 
 discoursed this point about servants, the aunt and 
 both her nieces, that is to say, the eldest of the sis- 
 ters and the widow, had another dialogue upon the 
 subject of giving a character to servants, and the 
 justice that was to be done in it on one side and on 
 the other, on the following occasion. 
 
 The eldest sister had taken a very scoundrel idle 
 jade of a servant, and that too after having received 
 a very good character of her from a gentlewoman 
 with whom she had lived before ; and she complained 
 heavily of the injustice of it, and that she had been 
 abused by the said gentlewoman, and was telling
 
 320 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 her tale to her aunt, which introduced the following 
 dialogue. 
 
 Aunt. I find, child, you lay all the fault of your 
 being disappointed upon the wench's former mis- 
 tress ; you don't seem to say the maid herself has 
 deceived you. 
 
 Fir. Niece. Indeed, madam, I am deceived both 
 ways; but I blame the maid's former mistress 
 most. 
 
 Aunt. Why so ? Did not the maid pretend to be 
 otherwise than you find her ? 
 
 Fir. Niece. Yes, madam, that is true ; but I did 
 not expect so much from a maid, when she came to 
 be hired ; I did not expect she would tell her own 
 faults. 
 
 Aunt. Well, but on the other hand, you did not 
 expect she should tell you she was able to do what 
 she did not understand, or should undertake what 
 she was no ways qualified to perform. 
 
 Fir. Niece. No, that's true, madam : but she was 
 willing to get into a good place. 
 
 Aunt. And to do it, she must be allowed to in- 
 troduce herself by a parcel of lies and shams, and 
 pretend to be what she has no pretence to ; I think 
 that as bad as any of the rest. 
 
 Sec. Niece. I join with my aunt in that part. I 
 think the law should have provided some punish- 
 ment for servants that give themselves characters 
 they do not deserve, as well as for other pieces of 
 dishonesty ; for, in short, it is a downright fraud, a 
 cheat, and a piece of dishonesty intolerable. For 
 example, a cook comes and hires herself to me, to 
 serve as such ; and when she has undertaken the 
 business, it appears she understands nothing of 
 cookery, and has never been anything but a middle 
 maid, to wash and scrub the rooms, and the like : 
 or a chambermaid offers herself, and tells me she
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 321 
 
 knows how to make mantuas, cut hair, clear-starch, 
 and the like ; and when it comes to the trial, 
 acknowledges she does not understand any of them, 
 or only this, and not that, as it happens. Why 
 should not this maid be punished, as well as she 
 that, pretending to be honest, proves a thief? 
 
 Aunt. No, child; she does deserve to be ill used: 
 but the case differs as to a thief; for she is punishe 
 not for pretending honesty, and deceiving me in th 
 character, but for her actual theft and robbing me 
 of my goods. 
 
 8ec. Niece. Well, madam, then the punishment 
 should differ too. I do not say she should be hanged, 
 but I think she should be punished, however, some 
 way or other. 
 
 Fir. Niece. We have ways to punish such a ser- 
 vant, and all servants too, if all mistresses would be 
 just to themselves, and to one another. We might 
 make up the deficiency of the law in that case to 
 ourselves very easily, and the want of doing our- 
 selves justice is the thing I complain of 
 
 Aunt. How would you make it up ? 
 
 Fir. Niece. Why, madam, whenever any such 
 servant came to me, I would be sure to turn her 
 away again, with all the resentment that her beha- 
 viour required ; and when she sent any future 
 mistress to me for a character, I would do her 
 justice. 
 
 Sec. Niece. You should say, sister, that you would 
 do the gentlewoman justice, who came to inquire of 
 you about her. 
 
 Aunt, Why truly, you put it right there, niece. 
 
 Sec. Niece. Indeed, madam, that is the foundation 
 of all the grievances we are under about servants, 
 that we make no conscience of doing one another 
 justice, when we make inquiries after the character 
 of another's servant. 
 
 R. c. y
 
 322 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Fir. Niece. Why we are loath to hinder poor 
 servants; for to take away their characters, is to 
 take away their bread. 
 
 Sec. Niece. We may say the same of a thief or a 
 housebreaker, when we find them in our houses or 
 gardens, and take them even in the very fact : we 
 are loath to ruin them for it : that it was necessity 
 forced them to do what they did ; and if we have 
 them committed, they will be hanged or transported : 
 nay, the argument is stronger, because the injury 
 done may have been trifling, and the punishment 
 there is loss of life, which we may be loath to be 
 concerned in. 
 
 Fir. Niece. You carry the case a great deal too 
 high, sister ; I cannot think they are alike. 
 
 Sec. Niece. Truly, sister, I think 'tis much the 
 same ; but of the two, I take, here is the greater ob- 
 ligation. 
 
 Aunt. I believe I take your notion right, niece ; 
 the obligation is this : if I take the thief, and give 
 him up to the law, he is undone, and his life must 
 pay for it ; and 'tis a sad thing for me to let a poor 
 fellow be put to death, or transported, for robbing 
 me of a trifle. But, on the other hand, T am to 
 consider, (1.) I am obliged by the law to do it; 
 that it is not I that put him to death, but the laws 
 of his country, and his own crime is the cause of it; 
 and I am an offender against that very law, and in 
 some sense, a confederate with him, at least an en- 
 courager of him in his crime, if I omit it : but 
 which is more than that, (2.) By my perhaps unsea- 
 sonable, and indeed unjust compassion, I become 
 accessary to all the robberies he shall be guilty of 
 after it ; because if I had done as the law directed 
 me, 1 had put him out of a condition to rob or in- 
 jure any other person. 
 
 Sec. Niece. You have fully explained my mean-
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHSP. 323 
 
 ing, madam, and I take the case to be the same ; I 
 by no means do as I ought, or as the law directs, if 
 when my neighbour taking a servant after me, and 
 coming to me for a character of her, I decline 
 speaking the truth of her, ay, and the whole truth 
 too. 
 
 Fir. Niece. Then no servant would get a place, 
 as servants are now. 
 
 Aunt. Then, niece, they would be more humble, 
 and careful how they behave. 
 
 Fir. Niece. It is a nice case, and we ought to 
 take a great care then, that we do not injure them. 
 
 Sec. Niece. That's true ; we ought to do them no 
 wrong ; but we do the person that is to take them 
 an irreparable wrong, if we recommend an ill servant 
 to them. 
 
 Aunt. Nay, we break another law, that you have 
 not thought of yet ; for we do not do in it as we 
 would be done by, which is the great Christian 
 rule. 
 
 Sec. Niece. Not only so, madam, but we do as 
 we would not be done by : for would any of us, if we 
 go to inquire of a servant, be told she was honest, 
 when she was a thief? That she was neat, when 
 she was nasty ; tight, when she v/as a slattern ; dili- 
 gent, when she was idle ; quiet, when she was saucy; 
 and modest, when she was, it may be, a bold hussy? 
 and the like. 
 
 Aunt. 1 observe, indeed, there is a general back- 
 wardness in people whenever we go to inquire 
 about a servant. A mistress cannot be said to re- 
 commend earnestly, because it is to be granted 
 that she parted with the servant for something or 
 other. But she is therefore, on the other hand, shy 
 and backward, and will say nothing, or but little, of 
 the real character of the servant, because, forsooth, 
 she would not hinder her a place ; and indeed I 
 
 r2
 
 324 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 would be very loath myself to ruin a poor girl, be- 
 cause I did not like her ; but I do think, as you say, 
 niece, we mistresses are too backward to be free 
 with ( ne another in such cases. 
 
 Sec. Niece. It would not only answer the end, 
 madam, as to the law part ; but it would bring ser- 
 vants back to be servants again, as they used to be, 
 and as they ought to be ; for really they can hardly 
 be called servants now. 
 
 Fir. Niece. I wish it was with us, in case of our 
 maids, as it is with the gentlemen in the case of 
 their men-servants, viz., that we should be obliged 
 to give certificates to our maids when they went 
 away. 
 
 Sec. Niece. Why even then the case would be the 
 same ; for if the form of the certificate was not set- 
 tled too by the act of parliament, we should sign 
 anything they desired us. 
 
 Fir. Niece. Nay, sister, that would be our 
 faults. 
 
 Au7it. Why so it is our faults now, child, if we 
 give them wrong characters. 
 
 Fir. Niece. I do not say we should give wrong 
 characters ; but I should be loath to say the utmost 
 of a poor servant, and so prejudice everybody 
 against her: perhaps what she did amiss with 
 me, she might mend with another, and perhaps 
 what might not please me, another might bear 
 with. 
 
 Sec. Niece. I will put an end to all that immedi- 
 ately, sister : I do not mean that I should enter into 
 a long accusation of a servant, and give the history 
 of her life, or that I would blast her for trifles, or 
 give her an ill name for not suiting exactly to my 
 temper : but I speak in capital, essential articles, 
 such as denominate a wench a good or bad servant; 
 and I'll tell you a case, when I went to a lady my-
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 325 
 
 self to inquire about a chambermaid who had been 
 sent to me by another person. 
 
 Aunt. But what was the person that sent or re- 
 commended her ? did she know her ? 
 
 Sec. Niece. She was an honest, well-meaning, 
 poor woman, that used to help me to maids when I 
 wanted. 
 
 Aunt. But then, I suppose, did not know much of 
 her own knowledge. 
 
 Sec. Niece. No, madam, but the maid gave me an 
 account where she had lived last, and I went to the 
 lady, and told her I came to inquire of such a maid- 
 servant, who, as she had said, had lived with her. 
 Yes, she told me, she had lived with her. 
 
 Pray how long did she live with you, madam? 
 said I. 
 
 Pray, madam, how long does she say she lived 
 with me ? says she. 
 
 Almost a year, madam, says I ; I think it wanted 
 but a month, or thereabouts : at which she made a 
 kind of a hum, and said nothing for awhile. 
 
 Now I did not like the way of answering my ques- 
 tion with a question ; for I thought she might have 
 told me positively how long the maid had lived with 
 her, and left me to judge whether she had spoken 
 truth ; whereas by returning the question upon me, 
 she kept it in her own breast to accuse or excuse 
 her : so I turned it short upon her ; I hope, madam, 
 says I, you will be so plain with me as to let me 
 know whether she says true or not. 
 
 Yes, yes, madam, says she. 
 
 This surprised me again ; for this had a double 
 meaning, as plain as could be, and it was impossible 
 to know whether she meant, yes, that it was as the 
 maid had said, or, yes, that she would let me know 
 whether the maid had said true or not. So I 
 stopped awhile, to give her time to go on, and ex-
 
 326 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 plain herself; but finding she did not, I repeated 
 my question : Pray, madam, says T, be pleased to let 
 me know exactly how long she lived with you. 
 
 Why, madam, says she, not quite a year : the 
 maid says true in that. 
 
 I was far from being satisfied with that kind of 
 answer ; the manner of drawing out her words 
 showing me plainly that the wench had lied. How- 
 ever, lest I should quarrel with her too soon, and so 
 have no more out of her, I dropped it, and asked 
 her some other questions. 
 
 Pray, madam, says I, is she a good work- 
 woman ? 
 
 Yes, yes, says she, she does her work well 
 enough. 
 
 This was all equivocation again. Anybody would 
 have understood by my question, that I inquired if 
 she was good at her needle ; but she would not take 
 it as I meant it, and put it off with an answer that 
 might be true, if the wench knew how to make a 
 bed, or sweep a room ; so I explained myself, and 
 said, Madam, by a good workwoman I mean at her 
 needle, I hope you understand me. 
 
 Truly, madam, says she, I think she is well 
 enough ; I never put her to much of that kind, 
 having other hands in the house. 
 
 Well, there she came better off with me a little 
 than before, but still all this gave me no character 
 of the maid ; so I went on. 
 
 Pray, madam, says I, what do you say to her 
 honesty ? she is honest, I hope. 
 
 I have no reason to tax her honesty, says she ; 
 she never wronged me of anything, that I know of: 
 I charge her with nothing. 
 
 Even this was but a very indifferent way of vouch- 
 ing for a girl's honesty, and if she was really honest, 
 she was not just to her.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 327 
 
 Well, madam, says I, may I ask you what was the 
 occasion of your parting with her ? 
 
 O, madam, says she, we parted indeed ; she and 
 I could not agree : I am passionate, and pretty trou- 
 blesome, and my maid and I could not hit it ; but 
 she may do very well with another. Pei'haps other 
 mistresses may not be so troublesome and difficult 
 as I am ; she may do very well ; I assure you she 
 knows how to please anybody but me ; she told me 
 so herself. 
 
 I was, indeed, provoked now, and answered. 
 Madam, you are pleased to give yourself some hard 
 words ; but I beg you will allow me to say, I did 
 not come for a character of the maid's mistress, but 
 a character of the maid ; and, I doubt, by your dis- 
 course, you are willing to recommend your maid's 
 character at the expense of your own. 
 
 She only smiled at me when I said thus, and said 
 again she was very difficult and ill to please ; but 
 Betty might do very well with another. 
 
 I pressed her again to let me know what she 
 parted with her maid for ; but still she shuffled me 
 off, and gave me the cunningest evasive answers. 
 Betty herself could not have put me off with half 
 the dexterity as her mistress did ; so I made my 
 honours as if I was going away. 
 
 Madam, says I, you are exceeding tender of your 
 maid ; but I cannot say you are equally just to a 
 stranger, that you see resolved to depend upon your 
 word for the character of a servant. However, I 
 shall take it the way I hope you intend it, namely, 
 that though it may be for the girl's advantage not to 
 heve the particulars of her behaviour told, yet you 
 W3uld have me understand by it that her conduct 
 will not bear a character, and that you would not 
 hive me venture upon her ; and I shall take your ad- 
 vice.
 
 328 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 At this she seemed concerned, as if she had ex- 
 pected that her awkward way of talking of the 
 wench had satisfied me, and that I did not under- 
 stand her ; and as I offered to go, Pray, madam, 
 says she, don't say so ; Betty may make you a very 
 good servant ; I am sorry you should take me so : 
 the maid may do well in another place, though she 
 might not suit me. 
 
 As I was talking, I observed that in the drawing- 
 room to the room we sat in, there sat a gentleman 
 reading in a great book, and every now and then he 
 looked off his book, when his wife (for it was her 
 husband) spoke, as if he was surprised at what she 
 said ; and as the folding- doors stood wide open, so 
 that the rooms were, as it were, let both into one, 
 he heard all we said, and I perceived that, as he 
 looked off his book when his wife spoke, so he almost 
 laughed outright when I spoke. 
 
 At last, as if he was not able to hold any longer, 
 he clapped up the book pretty hard, and threw it by, 
 and came forward into the room we were in, and 
 making me a very low bow as he passed, he offered 
 to go out ; when his lady stepped up to him, and 
 said something softly, which he answered softly, 
 ^nd with abundance of good humour in his face, 
 said to his wife. My dear, I will not interrupt you ; 
 upon which I offered to go away. By no means, 
 madam, said he, my business is of no moment. So 
 taking hold of his wife's hand, he as it were turned 
 her towards me, and at going away, My dear, says 
 he, don't hold the lady in suspense about your maid, 
 for I hear that is the business : let her have a trae 
 character of her ; you would be glad to be dedt 
 plainly with yourself. His wife smiled, but sad 
 nothing at first, but presently turned to him, and 
 all in a pleasant good humour she gave him a litte 
 tap on the arm with her hand : Do you give a chi-
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 329 
 
 racter of her, if you think I ha'n't done it well. 
 Must I ? says he : Why then, madam, says he to 
 me, with my wife's leave, she is a damned jade, a 
 horrid scold, a liar ; and though she has, I believe, 
 stolen nothing from us, was a thief in the place she 
 came last from, which we heard of since, and for 
 that very thing my wife turned her away. 
 
 I made him a curtsy, and told him I was greatly 
 obliged to him for so much sincerity, and found his 
 lady had been only tender of her maid's character, 
 but had not at all recommended her. Why, 
 madam, says he, my wife was cheated in this 
 wench, only by the people she lived with before, 
 giving her ambiguous answers, and speaking as 
 favourably as they could; and that is the ruin of 
 us all, adds he, in taking servants. 
 
 But, sir, says I, the lady she lived with before 
 did your lady a great deal of wrong, if she knew 
 her to be what you say she was in her service. 
 
 I don't know, madam, how 'twas for that : I never 
 meddle with these things, says he, but I believe my 
 wife was not so nice in her inquiries as you are ; or 
 if she was, she was easier to be cheated in their an- 
 swers ; and 'tis the ladies being thus backward to 
 give just and plain accounts to one another, that is 
 the reason that such a wretched gang of wenches 
 run from house to house, and get places, and be- 
 have in them as they do. Would the ladies, says 
 he, be just to one another, speak plain and honestly, 
 and give the creatures such characters as they de- 
 serve, they would take care to deserve better cha- 
 racters, and not behave so insolently, and so saucily 
 as they do. This jade, madam, says he, that you 
 come to inquire of, has insulted and taunted her 
 mistress two or three times, at such a rate that 
 I have been forced to send a footman into the 
 room to bring her out by the head and shoulders,
 
 330 KELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 for fear her mistress should be frighted ; and yet 
 
 she is so good to that slut, that she cannot find 
 
 in her heart to speak the truth of her. 
 
 My dear, says the lady, I have not said anything 
 
 but truth of her. 
 
 Well, my dear, says she again, I was not upon 
 
 my oath. 
 
 Why, that is true too, child, said he, but you are 
 upon your honour, and that is equivalent to an 
 oath ; and it would be hard to have this lady left 
 to take such a devil into her house, merely for fear 
 of injuring the wench ; why, you would injure the 
 family you suffer to take her, much more than the 
 maid. Let her go seek her fortune where nobody 
 knows her, and there she may have time to mend 
 her manners, and come to town again. 
 
 Aunt. Why, niece, this gentleman was your in- 
 structor. I think 'tis just his language that you 
 speak ; only I think you did not talk so moderatel 
 quite as he does. 
 
 Sec. Niece. And very good language too, madam; 
 'tis for want of this gentleman's rule that we have 
 any saucy, insolent, idle servants in the world. 
 
 Fir. Niece. It would make servants more cautious 
 of their behaviour, I confess : but then, sister, it 
 would put it in the power of mistresses to ruin poor 
 servants when they pleased, and even when there 
 was no good cause ; the bread of a servant would 
 depend upon the breath of a mistress. 
 
 Sec. Niece. There is no good in this world with- 
 out a mixture of evil ; no convenience without its 
 inconvenience ; but the damage that way, if it 
 should be so at any time, is infinitely less than the 
 mischief to families which comes by the insolence 
 and wickedness of servants. 
 
 Aunt. Nay, by the universal degeneracy of ser-
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 331 
 
 vants, you might have said ; for even those we call 
 good servants, at this time, are quite different things 
 from what they were in former times, ay, ever since 
 I can remember. 
 
 Sec. Niece. Well, madam, but I could propose a re- 
 medy even against that part, which my sister objects 
 against, of doing servants wrong; for I do not 
 deny that some mistresses may injure their servants, 
 and there ought to be no wrong on either hand. 
 
 Fir. Niece. I have known a mistress refuse to 
 give a poor servant a character, only because she 
 was unwilling to part with her, and yet at the same 
 time use her ill too. 
 
 Sec. Niece. Such things may happen, I do not 
 deny that. 
 
 Fir. Niece. I have also known a mistress injure a 
 servant by her partiality in favour of other ser- 
 vants, and give a maid an ill character when she 
 has not deserved it, by the mere reproaches raised 
 on her by others. 
 
 Sec. Niece. It is not possible to reckon up all the 
 cases in which a mistress may injure a servant : 
 'tis true, and there can no rule be set so exact, 
 as that nobody shall be oppressed : but I have two 
 things to say : — 
 
 1. All the injustice that can be supposed to 
 happen that way, is not equal to that which 
 mistresses and families now suffer from the 
 insolence and baseness of servants ; and 
 therefore the remedy is to be embraced, 
 and the lesser evil chosen. 
 
 2. There may be methods directed by the law, 
 that in such cases, where mistresses have 
 nothing capital to charge upon a servant, 
 they shall be obliged to give them certifi- 
 cates of their behaviour.
 
 332 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Aunt. I have often thought of that ; but unless 
 the form of that certificate be settled and adjusted 
 by that very act of parliament, the mistresses will 
 just write what they please, and when they are 
 prejudiced against a servant, will say nothing in 
 their certificates that shall do them any service, or 
 recommend them at all to any one else. 
 
 Sec. Niece. Those must be very malicious people 
 that will go that length with a servant. 
 
 Fir. Niece. But such people there are, and such 
 perhaps always will be. 
 
 Sec. Niece. Well, there may be a remedy for that 
 too, for there may be two or three several forms of 
 certificates directed by the law ; one volunteer, and 
 full to all the behaviour of a servant, and the other 
 to her honesty and sobriety only. 
 
 Aunt. Why then, child, nobody would take a 
 servant that had only your second-rate certificate ; 
 they would presently say, her mistress had given 
 no character but what she could not help. 
 
 Sec. Niece. I rather think, madam, that all ser- 
 vants would content themselves with what you 
 are pleased to call my second-rate certificate. 
 
 Aunt. Come, let us hear what kind of certificate 
 it is, if you are lawyer enough to draw it up. 
 
 Sec. Niece. I am not lawyer enough to draw it 
 up in form ; but it should be to this purpose, 
 madam. 
 
 THE CERTIFICATE. 
 
 I, A. B., do hereby certify that the bearer hereof, 
 M. B., lived with me as a chambermaid one 
 year and a quarter, ending the day of 
 last, during which time she behaved herself 
 honestly, modestly, and dutifully, as became 
 a servant. 
 
 Witness my hand, 
 A.B.
 
 BELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 333 
 
 Aunt. Why truly, niece, a servant that could not 
 deserve so much character as that, nobody ought to 
 take. 
 
 Sec. Niece. Well, madam, and a servant that did 
 deserve so much character as that, no mistress ought 
 to deny. 
 
 Fir. Niece. But suppose, sister, a mistress would 
 maliciously deny it, as I said before. 
 
 Sec. Niece. Why then the maid should have the 
 same remedy as she has for her wages, viz., com- 
 plain to a justice of peace, that in case upon the 
 mistress's being heard, if she could not give suffi- 
 cient reasons and proof of the fact, for which she 
 refused such a certificate, the justice should sign 
 the certificate to the maid, intimating that, having 
 heard all that could be alleged, he did not find 
 there was sufficient cause for refusing it. 
 
 Aunt. Well, niece, and what was your first-rate 
 certificate, pray, that you call this the second ? 
 
 Sec. Niece. Why, madam, when a mistress may 
 have a kindness for a servant, and is willing to give 
 her an extraordinary recommendation, she may add 
 that she is a very good needlewoman, or that she is 
 a very good cook, that she was not only faithful, but 
 diligent, and so in other cases : but, as I said, I be- 
 lieve any servant will be contented v/ith the second, 
 which is sufficient. 
 
 Fir. Niece. I agree, that the giving such certifi- 
 cates would put an end to all those inquiries. 
 
 Sec. Niece. Which oftentimes leave us in the 
 dark as much as we were before they were made, 
 nay, and sometimes more, a great deal. 
 
 Aunt. That is our fault, indeed, that we will not, 
 with freedom and plainness, acquaint one another 
 what we are to expect from the maids we hire ; and 
 'tis presuming upon this charitable disposition of 
 mistresses, that maids behave so saucily as they do
 
 334 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 
 
 Sec. Niece. Well, if any of my maids go from me, 
 I tell them plainly beforehand what they are to ex- 
 pect of me, and what kind of character I shall give 
 them, if they send anybody to me. 
 
 Fir. Niece. And what effect has that upon them ? 
 are they the better for it ? 
 
 Sec. Niece. Why I'll tell you what effect it had 
 upon one of my maids. I had told her my mind 
 very roundly one day, upon the occasion of some- 
 thing I did not like, and truly my maid turned very 
 short upon me, and told me she was sorry she could 
 not please me, and hoped I would provide myself 
 then. I told her that she should not say she could 
 not please me, but that she would not please me. 
 
 She answered very pertly that it was as I would, 
 I might take it which way I pleased. 
 
 Very well, says I, Mary, you are very tart with 
 me ; I hope when you send your next mistress to 
 me for a character, you will expect to hear those 
 very words again. 
 
 Why would I be so barbarous, said she, to rip up 
 words that passed in anger, and give them for the 
 character of any servant ? 
 
 No, Mary, says I, you should not say, will I be so 
 barbarous ; you should say, would I be so honest as 
 to give a character of you from your own mouth: 
 depend upon it, Mary, says I, I shall not be so un- 
 just to any mistress, to conceal a thing of that mo- 
 ment from them ; why it would be doing them the 
 greatest injury in the world. 
 
 She stood still a good while, and said nothing; 
 but as she saw me looking at her, as if I expected 
 an answer, the girl fell a crying, run to me, and, 
 offering to kneel to me, begged ray pardon, and told 
 me she hoped I would allow her to recall her warn- 
 ing, for she was resolved she would live with me till 
 she had deserved a better character.
 
 RELIGIOUS COURTSHIP. 335 
 
 Aunt. Poor girl ! I should have told her she 
 might go when she would then, for she had deserved 
 a better character just then. 
 
 Sec. Niece. I did not say so to her, but I would 
 not let her kneel ; and I told her I would not insist 
 upon her warning, for as long as she behaved so to 
 me, I should, I believed, never put her away. 
 
 Aujit. Well, but did she mend afterwards ? 
 
 Sec. ISiece. Indeed she was a very good servant 
 before, only a little hasty and impatient of reproof, 
 but she proved the best servant after it that anybody 
 ever had. She is with me still. 
 
 Au7it. It is certainly so : if we give fair, bold, and 
 just characters of them, and it once came to be the 
 custom or general usage among mistresses, servants 
 would quickly carry it after another manner, at least 
 they would take care to part upon as good terms as 
 they could with their mistresses. 
 
 Sec. Niece. Ay, and we should not cheat one an- 
 other, as we do now, in giving characters to the 
 vilest creatures that fall in our way. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 oxford: printed p.y d. x. talboys.
 
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