Emma intended to call on &longs;everal of her acquaintance.—
I hate vi&longs;its of ceremony—&longs;o alighting
from the carriage, I &longs;trolled into the fields.

An itinerant preacher was mounted above a listening
multitude, bawling out the virtues and excellencies
of charity, and &longs;trongly recommending brotherly
love among the elect—all his cry was faith and
charity; at the &longs;ame time he declared every one to
be in a &longs;tate of perdition that differed from his &longs;ect
in their opinion concerning religious matters. I
never was partial to people of this per&longs;ua&longs;ion; not
that I condemn the whole cla&longs;s—no, far be it from
me to cen&longs;ure a large body of people, becau&longs;e &longs;ome of
the members are hypocrites.—I have known many
people who pro&longs;e&longs;s Methodi&longs;m, humane, charitable,
and ju&longs;t; but they were people of enlarged ideas,
and liberal education—the &longs;olemn gait—&longs;anctified
air—upca&longs;t eyes—and tongue ever ready with scripture
phra&longs;es and quotations, are by no means the
&longs;igns of genuine piety.—A chearful, contented
di&longs;po&longs;ition—a heart grateful for every ble&longs;&longs;ing, and
re&longs;igned to the all-wi&longs;e di&longs;pen&longs;ations of Providence

[figure description] Page 086.[end figure description]

—and an hand ready to be&longs;tow on others part of the
ble&longs;&longs;ings we enjoy our&longs;elves;—the&longs;e are the re&longs;ults
of pure religion—the&longs;e are acceptable &longs;acrifices in
the &longs;ight of our Creator.

When the preacher had fini&longs;hed his oration, he
de&longs;cended from the tub on which he had &longs;tood; and
with his hat in his hand, walked round to his numerous
congregation, every one warm with the impression
made by his di&longs;cour&longs;e, readily contributed
&longs;omething towards the &longs;upport of a man who was &longs;o
eloquent in recommending them to &longs;eek the right
way to eternal happine&longs;s.

The collection that was made mu&longs;t have amply
repaid him for the time and breath he had &longs;pent in
exhorting them to charity.

I &longs;hould like to know, &longs;aid I, whether this man
practi&longs;es the virtue him&longs;elf, he &longs;o &longs;trongly recommends
to others.

I put on my ring and followed him home.

His habitation was at Chel&longs;ea—at his door he was
met by a woman decently dre&longs;&longs;ed, but dejected in her
countenance—her eyes were &longs;wolen with tears.

Well &longs;aid the man, pu&longs;hing rudely by her, is he
gone?

He is gone, &longs;he replied—gone for ever.

What, is he dead?

Yes.

And in my hou&longs;e—why was he not removed to
the work hou&longs;e?

Alas, Sir, replied the woman, the pari&longs;h officers
came to take him away; and the exertions he made
to ri&longs;e and dre&longs;s him&longs;elf being too much for his
weak frame, he expired as they were putting him into
the chair.

And, who will pay for the funeral?

The pari&longs;h will.

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And, do you think he &longs;hall go out of this hou&longs;e
till I am paid my rent?—No, no, as he has died here,
he &longs;hall &longs;tay till every farthing owing me is discharged.—
Have you got any money now?

Not one halfpenny, or a mor&longs;el of bread for my
poor children—But I will &longs;ell my bed—it is the la&longs;t
thing I have left, and we will henceforth &longs;leep on
&longs;traw.

You &longs;hall &longs;ell nothing—touch nothing till I am
paid.—What, do you think I am to lo&longs;e a whole
year's rent?

Have you no compa&longs;&longs;ion on a poor widow and &longs;ix
fatherle&longs;s children? &longs;aid the woman.

I do not know what bu&longs;ine&longs;s &longs;uch poor folks have
to get children, he replied. Go, go along, woman;
I am going to dinner, and cannot be troubled with
your whining and complaints.

I took off my ring; and following the poor woman
up &longs;tairs, gave her &longs;omething to quiet the apprehensions
her inhuman landlord's di&longs;cour&longs;e had inspired.

As I pa&longs;&longs;ed from the &longs;tairca&longs;e to the &longs;treet door, I
heard this teacher of charity pouring forth a long
grace over his meat.

Hypocritical wretch! &longs;aid I, do&longs;t thou think this
lip &longs;ervice is acceptable to God?—Mi&longs;taken man,
thou art mocking the Lord of the univer&longs;e.—Go,
divide your meal with the widow and the fatherle&longs;s—
it is the be&longs;t way of &longs;hewing your gratitude to him
who gave it you.

Such men as this, &longs;aid I, as I left the hou&longs;e, are
a great deal more prejudicial to &longs;ociety than the professed
libertine. When we &longs;ee a man neglect all
religious duties—break through all ties moral and
divine, we naturally turn from him with horror and
dete&longs;tation.—But, when a man under the cloak of
piety and virtue, who profe&longs;&longs;es a ju&longs;t &longs;en&longs;e of

[figure description] Page 088.[end figure description]

religion, is di&longs;covered to be hard-hearted—oppre&longs;&longs;ive—
avaricious—&longs;elfi&longs;h—in &longs;hort, living in the private
practice of every vice he publicly declaims again&longs;t;
is it not enough to make the generality of the world
conclude that religion is no more than a &longs;pecious
ma&longs;k put on to deceive mankind?

Religion, in her own native &longs;implicity, is truly
lovely—&longs;he attracts admiration—charms the &longs;oul by
her precepts—and pa&longs;&longs;ing with us through life
blunts the points of tho&longs;e arrows of affliction which
it is the lot of every mortal to experience.

But, hypocri&longs;y too often puts on her plea&longs;ing garb;
and, when di&longs;covered, leads mankind to think the
angel face of piety hides the foul fiend beneath.