"Aye," replied the nobleman, starting; "a wonderful discovery, say you!"

"Yes, my lord, a wonderful discovery indeed! A discovery, my lord, beyond Gallileo, Friar Bacon, or even the great sir Isaac Newton himself."

"The d―! what, beyond sir Isaac?"

"Yes, 'pon honour, my lord, beyond the great sir Isaac. 'Tis true his ATTRACTIONS and GRAVITATIONS and all that, are well enough; very clever things to be sure, my lord; but still nothing in comparison of this." "Zounds, man, what can it be?”

"Why, my lord-please come a little this way-now, in confidence, my lord-I've been such a lucky dog as to discover the wondrous art of raising a breed of sheep without wool!"

The nobleman, who, it is thought, was not very nearly related to Solomon, had like to have gone into fits. What sir," asked he, with a counter.ance wild-staring with amazement, "a breed of sheep without woo!! impossible!"

"Pardon me, my lord, it is very possible, very true. I have indeed, my lord, discovered the adorable art of raising a breed of sheep without a lock of wool on their backs! not a lock, my lord, any more than there is here on the back of my hand."

"Your fortune is made, sir," replied the nobleman, smacking his hands and lifting both them and his eyes to heaven as in extacy-"Your fortune is made for ever. Government, I am sure, sir, will not fail suitably to reward a discovery that will immortalize the British nation."

Accordingly, a motion to that purpose was made in the House of Lords, and the empiric was within an ace of being created a peer of the realm; when, most unfortunately, the duke of Devonshire, a district famed for sheep, got up and begged a little patience of the house until it could be fully understood what great benefit the nation was to derive from a flock of sheep without wool. Why, zounds, my lords," said the noble duke, “I thought all along that wool was the main chance in a flock of sheep."

A most learned discussion ensued. And it being made apparent to the noble lords, that wool is actually

the basis of broad cloths, flannels, and most other of the best British manufactures. And it being also made apparent to the noble lords, which was another great point gainер, that two good things are better than one, i. e. that wool and mutton together, are better than mutton by itself, or woo! by itself; the motion for a TITLE was unanimously scouted. And in place of a pension the rascal had like to have got a prison, for daring thus to trump up a vile discovery that would have robbed the world of one of its greatest comforts.

Just so, to my mind at least, it fares with all the boasted discoveries of our modern atheists. Admitting that these wonderful wizzards could raise a nation of men and women without religion, as easily as this their brother conjurer could a breed of Merinos without wool; still we must ask cui bono? that is, what good would it be to the world? Supposing they could away at a dash, with all sense of so glorious a being as God, and all comfort of so mighty a hope as heaven; what benefit would it bring to man or beast?

But, God be praised, this dismal question about the consequence of discarding religion need not be asked at this time of day. These gentlemen without religion, like bell-wethers without wool, do so constantly betray their nakedness, I mean their want of morality, that the world, bad as it is, is getting ashamed of them. Here, for example, is master Ralph, who, for reasons abundantly convenient to himself, had accompanied Ben to London-Ben, as he himself confesses, had lent a liberal hand to make Ralph a sturdy infidel, that is, to free him from the restraints of the gospel. Now mark the prccious fruits of this boasted freedom. Getting displeased with the parents of a poor girl, whom he had married, he determines to quit her for ever, as also a poor unoffending child he had by her, whom, by the ties of nature, he was bound to comfort and protect! Ben, though secretly abhorring this villany of Ralph, yet suffered himself to be so enamoured of his vivacity and wit, as to make him an inmate. "We were," says Ben, "inseparable companions." Very little cause had he, poor lad! as he himselt owns afterwards, to boast of this connexion. But it was fine sport for Ralph; for having brought no money with him from America, but what just sufficed to

pay his passage; and knowing what a noble drudge Ben was; and also that he had with him fifteen pistoles, the fruits of his hard labours and savings in Philadelphia, he found it very convenient to hang upon him, not only boarding and lodging at his expense, and at his expense going to plays and concerts, but also frequently drawing on his dear yellow boys, the pistoles, for purposes of private pleasure.

If the reader should ask, how Ralph, even as a man of honour, could reconcile it to himself, thus to devour his friend, let me, in turn, ask what business had Ben to furnish Ralph the very alphabet and syntax of this abominable lesson against himself? And, if that should not be thought quite to the point, let me ask again, where, taking the fear of God out of the heart, is the difference between a man and a beast? If man has reason, it is only to make him ten fold more a beast. Ralph, it is true, did no work; but what of that? He wrote such charming poetry-and spouted such fine plays-and talked so eloquently with Ben of nights!and sure this was a good offset against Ben's hard labours and pistoles. At any rate Ralph thought so. Nay, more; he thought, in return for these sublime entertainments, Ben ought to support not only him, but also his concubine. Accordingly he went and scraped acquaintance with a handsome young widow, a milliner, in the next street: and what with reading his fine poetry to her, and spouting his plays, he got so completely into her good graces, that she presently turned actress too; and in the "COMEDY OF ERRORS," or "ALL FOR LOVE," played her part so unluckily, that she was hissed from the stage by all her virtuous acquaintance, and compelled to troop off with a big belly to another neighbourhood, where Ralph continued to visit her.

The reader will hardly wonder when told, that Ralph and his fair milliner soon found the bottom of Ben's purse. He will rather wonder what sort of love-powder it was that Ben took of this young man that could, for such a length of time, so fatally have befooled him. But Ben was first in the transgression. Like Alexander the coppersmith, he had done Ralph much harm,” and God, who is wiser than all, had ordained that he should be "rewarded according to his works.”

CHAPTER XXVII.

"Learn to be wise from others' ill,
As you'll learn to do full well.”

AS nothing is so repellant of base minds as poverty, soon as Ralph found that Ben's pistoles were all gone, and his finances reduced to the beggarly ebb of living from hand to mouth, he "cleared out," and betook himself into the country to teach school, whence he was continually writing fine poetical epistles to Ben, not forgetting in every postcript, to put him in mind of his dear Dulcinea, the fair milliner, and to commend her to his kindness. As to Ben, he still persevered, after Ralph's departure, in his good old habits of industry and economy-never indulging in tobacco or gin-never sauntering to taverns or play houses, nor at any time laying cut his money but on books, which he always visited, as frugal lovers do their sweet-hearts, at night. But still it would not all do. He could lay up nothing. The daily postage of Ralph's long poetical epistles, with the unceasing application of the poor milliner, kept his purse continually in a galloping consumption. At length he obtained a release from this unpleasant situation, though in a way that he himself never could think of afterwards without a blush.

After very frequent loans of money to her, she came, it seems, one night to his lodgings on the old errand-to borrow half a guinea! when Ben, who had been getting too fond of her, took this opportunity to offer freedoms which she highly resented.

This Ben tells himself, with a candor that will forever do him credit among those who know that the confession of folly is the first step on the way to wisdom.

"Having, at that time," says he, "no ties of religion upon me, and taking advantage of her necessitous situation, I attempted liberties (another great error of my life, which she repelled with becoming indignation. She informed Ralph; and the affair occasioned a breach between us. When he returned to London, he gave me to understand that he considered all the obligations he owed me as annihilated by this proceeding: and that I

was not to expect one farthing of all the monies I had tent him."

Ben used to say, many years afterwards, that this conduct of his friend Ralph put him in mind of an anecdote he had some where heard, of good old Gilbert Tenant; the same that George Whitefield generally called HELL-FIRE TENANT. This eminent divine, believing fear to be a much stronger motive with the multitude than love, constantly made a great run upon that passion in all his discourses. And Boanerges himself could hardly have held a candle to him in this way. Nature had given him a countenance which he could, at will, clothe with all the terrors of the tornado. And besides he had a talent for painting the scenes of dread perdition in such colours, that when aided by the lightning of his eyes, and the bursting thunders of his voice, it was enough to start the soul of lion-hearted innocence; what then of rabbit-livered guilt? The truth is, he wrought miracles in New-Jersey: casting out devils, the devils of drunkenness, gambling and lust, out of many a wretch possessed.

Among the thousands whom he thus frightened for their good, was a tame Indian of Woodberry, who generally went by the name of Indian-Dick. This poor savage, on hearing Mr. Tenant preach, was so terrified, that he fell down in the meeting house, and roared as if under the scalping knife.

He lost his stomach: and even his beloved bottle was forgotten. Old Mr. Tenant went to see Dick, and rejoiced over him as a son in the gospel;-heartily thanking God for adding this INDIAN GEM to the crown of his glory.

Not many days after this the man of God took his journey through the south counties of New-Jersey, calling the poor clam-catchers of Cape May to repentance. As he returned and drew near to Woodberry, lo! a great multitude! He rejoiced in spirit, as hoping that it was a meeting of the people to hear the word of God: but the uproar bursting upon his ear, put him in doubt.

"Surely," said he, "this is not the voice of praise; 'tis rather, I fear the noise of drunkenness." And so it was indeed; for it being a day of election, the friends of the candidates had dealt out their brandy so liberally that