and if it be long, our griefs are protracted. Thus philofophy is weak; but religion comforts in an higher train. Man is here, it tells us, fitting up his mind, and preparing it for another abode. When the good man leaves the body, and is all a glorious mind, he will find he has been making himself a heaven of happinefs here, while the wretch that has been maimed and contaminated by his vices, fhrinks from his body with terror, and finds that he has anticipated the vengeance of heaven. To religion then we must hold in every circumftance of life for our trueft comfort; for if already we are happy, it is a pleasure to think that we can make that happinefs unending; and if we are miferable, it is very confoling to think that there is a place of reft. Thus to the fortunate religion holds out a continuance of blifs, to the wretched a change from pain.

But though religion is very kind to all men, it has promifed peculiar rewards to the unhappy; the fick, the naked, the houfelefs, the heavy-laden, and the prifoner, have ever moft frequent promifes in our facred law. The Author of our religion every-where profeffes himself the wretch's friend, and unlike the falfe ones of this world, bestows all his careffes upon the forlorn. The unthinking have cenfured this as partiality, as a preference without merit to deferve it. But they never reflect that it is not in the power even of heaven itself to make the offer of unceasing felicity as great a gift to the happy as to the miferable. Το the firft, eternity is but a fingle bleffing, fince at most it but increases what they already poffefs. To the latter it is a double advantage, for it diminishes their pain here, and rewards them with heavenly blifs hereafter.

But Providence is in another refpect kinder to the poor than the rich; for as it thus makes the life after death more defirable, fo it fmooths the paffage there. The wretched have had a long familiarity with every face of terror. The man of forrows lays himself quietly down, without poffeffions to regret, and but

few

few ties to stop his departure; he feels only nature's pang in the final feparation, and this is no way greater than he has often fainted under before; for after a certain degree of pain, every new breach that death opens in the conftitution, nature kindly covers with infenfibility.

Thus Providence has given the wretched two advantages over the happy in this life, greater felicity in dying, and in heaven all that fuperiority of pleasure which arifes from contrafted enjoyment. And this fuperiority, my friends, is no fmall advantage, and feems to be one of the pleasures of the poor man in the parable; for though he was already in heaven, and felt all the raptures it could give, yet it was mentioned as an addition to his happinefs, that he had once been wretched and now was comforted; that he had known what it was to be miferable, and now felt what it was to be happy.

Thus, my friends, you fee religion does what philofophy could never do; it fhews the equal dealings of heaven to the happy and the unhappy, and levels all human enjoyments to nearly the fame ftandard. It gives to both rich and poor the fame happiness hereafter, and equal hopes to afpire after it: but if the rich have the advantage of enjoying pleasure here, the poor have the endless fatisfaction of knowing what it was once to be miferable, when crowned with endless felicity hereafter; and even though this should be called a small advantage, yet being an eternal one, it must make up by duration what the temporal happinefs of the great may have exceeded by intenfenefs.

These are therefore the confolations which the wretched have peculiar to themselves, and in which they are above the rest of mankind; in other respects they are below them. They who would know the miferies of the poor, must fee life and endure it. To declaim on the temporal advantages they enjoy, is only repeating what none either believe or practise. The men who have the neceffaries of living are not poor, and they who want them must be miferable.

Yes,

Yes, my friends, we must be miferable. No vain efforts of a refined imagination can footh the wants of nature, can give elaftic fweetness to the dank vapour of a dungeon, or eafe to the throbbings of a broken heart. Let the philofopher from his couch of foftness tell us we can refift all thefe. Alas! the effort by which we refist them is ftill the greatest pain! Death is flight, and any man may sustain it; but torments are dreadful, `and these no man can endure.

To us then, my friends, the promises of happiness in heaven fhould be peculiarly dear; for if our reward be in this life alone, we are then indeed of all men the most miserable. When I look round thefe gloomy walls, made to terrify, as well as to confine us; this light that only ferves to fhew the horrors of the place, those shackles that tyranny has impofed, or crime made neceffary; when I furvey these emaciated looks, and hear thofe groans, O my friends, what a glorious exchange would heaven be for thefe! To fly through regions unconfined as air, to bask in the funfhine of eternal blifs, to carrol over endless hymns of praise, to have no mafter to threaten or infult us, but the form of Goodness himself for ever in our eyes; when I think of these things, death becomes the . meffenger of very glad tidings; when I think of these things, his fharpeft arrow becomes the staff of my fupport; when I think of these things, what is there in life worth having? when I think of these things, what is there that should not be spurned away? kings in their palaces fhould groan for fuch advantages; but we, humbled as we are, fhould yearn for them.

And fhall these things be ours? Ours they will certainly be if we but try for them; and what is a comfort, we are fhut out from many temptations that would retard our purfuit. Only let us try for them, and they will certainly be ours; and what is ftill a comfort, fhortly too; for if we look back on past life, it appears but a very short span, and whatever we may think of the reft of life, it will yet be found of lefs duration; as we grow older, the days feem to grow fhorter,

fhorter, and our intimacy with time ever leffens the preception of his ftay. Then let us take comfort now, for we shall foon be at our journey's end; we shall foon lay down the heavy burthen laid by heaven upon us; and though death, the only friend of the wretched, for a little while mocks the weary traveller with the view, and like his horizon, ftill flies before him; yet the time will certainly and fhortly come, when we fhall ceafe from our toil; when the luxurious great ones of the world fhall no more tread us to the earth; when we shall think with pleasure on our fufferings below; when we shall be surrounded with all our friends, or fuch as deserve our friendship; when our blifs fhall be unutterable, and ftill, to crown all, unending.

СНАР. XXX.

Happier profpects begin to appear. Let us be inflexible, and fortune will at last change in our favour.

HEN I had thus finished, and my audience was W retired, the gaoler, who was one of the most humane of his profeffion, hoped I would not be difpleased, as what he did was but his duty, obferving that he must be obliged to remove my fon into a ftronger cell, but that he fhould be permitted to vifit me every morning. I thanked him for his clemency, and grafping my boy's hand, bade him farewel, and be mindful of the great duty that was before him.

I again, therefore, laid me down, and one of my little ones fat by my bedfide reading, when Mr. Jenkinfon entering, informed me that there was news of my daughter; for that she was feen by a perfon about two hours before, in a strange gentleman's company, and that they had ftopt at a neighbouring village for refreshment, and feemed as if returning to town. had scarce delivered this news, when the gaoler came with looks of hafte and pleasure, to inform me that my daughter was found. Mofes came running in a

He

moment

moment after, crying out that his fifter Sophy was below, and coming up with our old friend Mr. Bur

chell.

Juft as he delivered this news, my deareft girl entered, and with looks almost wild with pleafure, ran to kiss me in a tranfport of affection. Her mother's tears and filence alfo fhewed her pleafure. Here, papa,' cried the charming girl, here is the brave man to whom I owe my delivery: to this gentleman's intrepidity I am indebted for my happiness and fafetyA kifs from Mr. Burchell, whofe pleasure feemed even greater than her's, interrupted what fhe was going to add.

Ah, Mr. Burchell,' cried I, this is but a • wretched habitation you now find us in; and we are now very different from what you laft faw us.

You

⚫ were ever our friend: we have long difcovered our errors with regard to you, and repented of our ingratitude. After the vile ufage you then received at my hands, I am almoft afhamed to behold your face; yet I hope you'll forgive me, as I was deceived by a bafe ungenerous wretch, who, under the mafk of friendship, has undone me.'

It is impoffible,' replied Mr. Burchell, that I fhould forgive you, as you never deferved my refentment. I partly faw your delufion then, and as it was out of my power to restrain, I could only pity • it!'

It was ever my conjecture,' cried I, that your mind was noble; but now I find it fo. But tell < me, my dear child, how haft thou been relieved, or who the rumians were who carried thee away?'

Indeed, Sir,' replied the, as to the villain who < carried me off, I am yet ignorant. For as my mamma and I were walking out, he came behind us, and almost before I could call for help, forced me into the post-chaife, and in an inftant the horses drove away. I met feveral on the road, to whom I cried out for affiftance; but they difregarded my ⚫ entreaties. In the mean time the ruffian himfelf

ufed