TALE XIX.

THE CONVERT.

-A tapster is a good trade, and an old cloak makes a new jerkin; a wither'd serving-man, a fresh tapster. Merry Wives of Windsor, act i. sc. 3. A fellow, sir, that I have known go about with my troll-my-dames.

Winter's Tale, act iv. sc. 2. I myself, sometimes leaving the fear of Heaven on the left hand, and holding mine honour in my necessity, am forced to shuffle, to hedge, and to lurch.

Merry Wives of Windsor, act ii. sc. 2.

Yea, and at that very moment,
Consideration like an angel came,
And whipp'd th' offending Adam out of him.
Henry V. act i. sc. 1.

I have lived long enough: My May of life
Is fall'n into the sere, the yellow leaf;
And that which should accompany old age,
As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,
I must not look to have.

Macbeth, act v. sc. 3.

SOME to our hero have a hero's name
Denied, because no father's he could claim;
Nor could his mother with precision state
A full fair claim to her certificate;
On her own word the marriage must depend-
A point she was not eager to defend :
But who, without a father's name, can raise
His own so high, deserves the greater praise:
The less advantage to the strife he brought,
The greater wonders has his prowess wrought;
He who depends upon his wind and limbs,
Needs neither cork nor bladder when he swims;
Nor will by empty breath be puff'd along,
As not himself-but in his helpers-strong.
Suffice it then, our hero's name was clear,
For, call John Dighton, and he answer'd, "Here!"
But who that name in early life assign'd
He never found, he never tried to find;
Whether his kindred were to John disgrace,
Or John to them, is a disputed case;
His infant state owed nothing to their care-
His mind neglected, and his body bare;
All his success must on himself depend,
He had no money, counsel, guide, or friend;
But in a market town an active boy
Appear'd, and sought in various ways employ ;
Who soon, thus cast upon the world, began

To show the talents of a thriving man.

To all in turn full he allegiance swore,
And in his hat the various badges bore:
His liberal soul with every sect agreed,
Unheard their reasons, he received their creed ;
At church he deign'd the organ pipes to fill,
And at the meeting sang both loud and shrill :
But the full purse these different merits gain'd,
By strong demands his lively passions drain'd;
Liquors he loved of each inflaming kind,
To midnight revels flew with ardent mind;
Too warm at cards, a losing game he play'd,
To fleecing beauty his attention paid;
His boiling passions were by oaths express'd,
And lies he made his profit and his jest.

Such was the boy, and such the man had been,
But fate or happier fortune changed the scene;
A fever seized him," He should surely die-”
He fear'd, and lo! a friend was praying by;
With terror moved, this teacher he address'd,
And all the errors of his youth confess'd:
The good man kindly clear'd the sinner's way
To lively hope, and counsell'd him to pray;
Who then resolved, should he from sickness rise,
To quit cards, liquors, poaching, oaths, and lies:
His health restored, he yet resolved, and grew
True to his masters, to their meeting true:
His old companions at his sober face
Laugh'd loud, while he, attesting it was grace,
With tears besought them all his calling to em

brace :

To his new friends such converts gave applause,
Life to their zeal, and glory to their cause:
Though terror wrought the mighty change, yet

strong

Was the impression, and it lasted long;
John at the lectures due attendance paid,
A convert meek, obedient, and afraid.

His manners strict, though form'd on fear alone,
Pleased the grave friends, nor less his solemn
tone,

The lengthen'd face of care, the low and inward
groan :

The stern good men exulted, when they saw
Those timid looks of penitence and awe;
Nor thought that one so passive, humble, meek,
Had yet a creed and principles to seek.

The faith that reason finds, confirms, avows,
The hopes, the views, the comforts she allows-
These were not his, who by his feelings found,
And by them only, that his faith was sound;
Feelings of terror these, for evil past,
Feelings of hope, to be received at last;

With spirit high John learn'd the world to Now weak, now lively, changing with the day,

brave,

And in both senses was a ready knave:
Knave as of old, obedient, keen, and quick,
Knave as at present, skill'd to shift and trick;

Some humble part of many trades he taught,
He for the builder and the painter wrought;
For serving maids on secret errands ran,

The waiter's helper, and the hostler's man;

These were his feelings, and he felt his way.
Sprung from such sources, will this faith remain
While these supporters can their strength retain:
As heaviest weights the deepest rivers pass,
While icy chains fast bind the solid mass;
So, born of feelings, faith remains secure,
Long as their firmness and their strength endure:
But when the waters in their channel glide,

And when he chanced (oft chanced he) place to A bridge must bear us o'er the threatening tide:

lose,

His varying genius shone in blacking shoes:
A midnight fisher by the pond he stood,
Assistant poacher, he o'erlook'd the wood;
At an election John's impartial mind
Was to no cause nor candidate confined;

Such bridge is reason, and there faith relies,
Whether the varying spirits fall or rise.

His patrons, still disposed their aid to lend,
Behind a counter placed their humble friend;
Where pens and paper were on shelves display'd.
And pious pamphlets on the windows laid;

And growing pride in Dighton's mind was bred
By the strange food on which it coarsely fed.

Their brother's fall the grieving brethren heard.
The pride indeed to all around appear'd ;
The world, his friends agreed, had won the soul
From its best hopes, the man from their control:
To make him humble, and confine his views
Within their bounds, and books which they peruse;
A deputation from these friends select,
Might reason with him to some good effect;
Arm'd with authority, and led by love,
They might those follies from his mind remove;
Deciding thus, and with this kind intent,
A chosen body with its speaker went.

John," said the teacher, "John, with great

For friends and strangers all were pleased to deal We see thy frailty, and thy fate discern;
With one whose care was equal to his zeal.

Satan with toils thy simple soul beset,
And thou art careless, slumbering in the net;
Unmindful art thou of thy early vow?
Who at the morning meeting sees thee now?

Perceived how much improvement might be made; Who at the evening? where is brother John?

A man of spirit, though to peace inclined;
Call me ungrateful! have I not my pay
At all times ready for th' expected day?—
To share my plenteous board you deign to come,
Myself your pupil, and my house your home;
And shall the persons who my meat enjoy
Talk of my faults, and treat me as a boy?
Have you not told how Rome's insulting priests
Led their meek laymen like a herd of beasts;
And by their fleecing and their forgery made
Their holy calling an accursed trade?
Can you such acts and insolence condemn,
Who to your utmost power resemble them?
"Concerns it you what books I set for sale?
The tale perchance may be a virtuous tale ;
And for the rest, 'tis neither wise nor just,
In you, who read not, to condemn on trust;
Why should th' Archdeacon's Charge your spleen
excite ?

He, or perchance th' archbishop, may be right.
That from your meetings I refrain, is true;
meet with nothing pleasant-nothing new;
But the same proofs, that not one text explain,
And the same lights, where all things dark remain;
I thought you saints on earth-but I have found
Some sins among you, and the best unsound:
You have your failings, like the crowds below,
And at your pleasure hot and cold can blow.
When I at first your grave deportment saw,
(I own my folly,) I was fill'd with awe ;
You spoke so warmly, and it seems so well,
I should have thought it treason to rebel;
Is it a wonder that a man like me
Should such perfection in such teachers see?
Nay, should conceive you sent from heaven to brave
The host of sin, and sinful souls to save?
But as our reason wakes, our prospects clear,
And failings, flaws, and blemishes appear.

When you were mounted in your rostrum high,
We shrank beneath your tone, your frown, your eye;
Then you beheld us abject, fallen, low,
And felt your glory from our baseness grow;
Touch'd by your words, I trembled like the rest,
And my own vileness and your power confess'd :
These, I exclaim'd, are men divine, and gazed
On him who taught, delighted, and amazed;
Glad when he finish'd, if by chance he cast
One look on such a sinner, as he pass'd.

"But when I view'd you in a clearer light,
And saw the frail and carnal appetite;
When, at his humble prayer, you deign'd to eat
Saints as you are, a civil sinner's meat;
When as you sat contented and at ease,
Nibbling at leisure on the ducks and pease;
And, pleased some comforts in such place to find,
You could descend to be a little kind;
And gave us hope, in heaven there might be room
For a few souls besides your own to come;
While this world's good engaged your carnal view,
And like a sinner you enjoy'd it too;
All this perceiving, can you think it strange
'That change in you should work an equal change?"

"Wretch that thou art," an elder cried, "and gone For everlasting.”—“ Go thyself," said John;

Depart this instant, let me hear no more

My house my castle is, and that my door."

The hint they took, and from the door withdrew
And John to meeting bade a long adieu;
Attach'd to business, he in time became
A wealthy man of no inferior name.
It seem'd, alas! in John's deluded sight,
That all was wrong because not all was right;
And when he found his teachers had their stains,
Resentment and not reason broke his chains :
Thus on his feelings he again relied,
And never look'd to reason for his guide:
Could he have wisely view'd the frailty shown,
And rightly weigh'd their wanderings and his

own,

He might have known that men may be sincere,
Though gay and feasting on the savoury cheer;
That doctrines sound and sober they may teach,
Who love to eat with all the glee they preach;
Nay, who believe the duck, the grape, the pine,
Were not intended for the dog and swine;
But Dighton's hasty mind on every theme
Ran from the truth, and rested in th' extreme:
Flaws in his friends he found, and then withdrew
(Vain of his knowledge) from their virtues too.
Best of his books he loved the liberal kind,
That, if they improve not, still enlarge the mind;
And found himself, with such advisers, free
From a fix'd creed, as mind enlarged could be.
His humble wife at these opinions sigh'd,
But her he never heeded till she died :
He then assented to a last request,
And by the meeting window let her rest;
And on her stone the sacred text was seen,
Which had her comfort in departing been.

Dighton with joy beheld his trade advance,
Yet seldom publish'd, loath to trust to chance;
Then wed a doctor's sister-poor indeed,
But skill'd in works her husband could not read
Who, if he wish'd new ways of wealth to seek,
Could make her half-crown pamphlet in a week;
This he rejected, though without disdain,
And chose the old and certain way to gain.
Thus he proceeded, trade increased the while,
And fortune woo'd him with perpetual smile:
On early scenes he sometimes cast a thought,
When on his heart the mighty change was wrought
And all the ease and comfort converts find
Was magnified in his reflecting mind :
Then on the teacher's priestly pride he dwelt,
That caused his freedom, but with this he felt
The danger of the free-for since that day,
No guide had shown, no brethren join'd his way
Forsaking one, he found no second creed,
But reading doubted, doubting what to read.
Still, though reproof had brought some presen'
pain,

The gain he made was fair and honest gain;
He laid his wares, indeed, in public view,
But that all traders claim a right to do:
By means like these, he saw his wealth increase,
And felt his consequence, and dwelt in peace.

Our hero's age was threescore years and five,
When he exclaim'd, "Why longer should I strive?
Why more amass, who never must behold

A young John Dighton, to make glad the old ?'

The sons he had to early graves were gone,
And girls were burdens to the mind of John.)
"Had I a boy, he would our name sustain,
That now to nothing must return again;
But what are all my profits, credit, trade,
And parish honours ?-folly and parade."

I had my comforts, and a growing trade
Gave greater pleasure than a fortune made;
And as I more possess'd and reason'd more,
I lost those comforts I enjoy'd before,
When reverend guides I saw my table round,
And in my guardian guest my safety found:
Now sick and sad, no appetite, no ease,
Nor pleasure have I, nor a wish to please;
Nor views, nor hopes, nor plans, nor taste have I,
Yet sick of life, have no desire to die."

Thus Dighton thought, and in his looks appear'd
Sadness increased by much he saw and heard:
The brethren often at the shop would stay,
And make their comments ere they walk'd away:
'They mark'd the window, fill'd in every pane
With lawless prints of reputations slain ;
Distorted forms of men with honours graced,
And our chief rulers in derision placed :
Amazed they stood, remembering well the days
When to be humble was their brother's praise,
When at the dwelling of their friend they stopp'd
To drop a word, or to receive it dropp'd;
Where they beheld the prints of men renown'd,
And far-famed preachers pasted all around;
(Such mouths! eyes! hair! so prim! so fierce! so And virtue led him while he lean'd on grace;

He said, and died; his trade, his name is gone,
And all that once gave consequence to John.
Unhappy Dighton! had he found a friend,
When conscience told him it was time to mend!
A friend discreet, considerate, kind, sincere,
Who would have shown the grounds of hope and
fear;

sleek!

They look'd as speaking what is wo to speak :)
On these the passing brethren loved to dwell-
How long they spake! how strongly! warmly!
well!

What power had each to dive in mysteries deep,
To warm the cold, to make the harden'd weep;
To lure, to fright, to soothe, to awe the soul,
And listening flocks to lead and to control!

But now discoursing, as they linger'd near,
They tempted John (whom they accused) to hear
Their weighty charge-" And can the lost one feel,
As in the time of duty, love, and zeal;
When all were summon'd at the rising sun,
And he was ready with his friends to run;
When he, partaking with a chosen few,
Felt the great change, sensation rich and new?
No! all is lost, her favours Fortune shower'd
Upon the man, and he is overpower'd;
The world has won him with its tempting store
Of needless wealth, and that has made him poor :
Success undoes him, he has risen to fall,
Has gain'd a fortune, and has lost his all;
Gone back from Sion, he will find his age
Loath to commence a second pilgrimage;
He has retreated from the chosen track;

And now must ever bear the burden on his back."
Hurt by such censure, John began to find
Fresh revolutions working in his mind;
He sought for comfort in his books, but read
Without a plan or method in his head;
What once amused, now rather made him sad,
What should inform, increased the doubts he had;
Shame would not let him seek at church a guide,
And from his meeting he was held by pride;
His wife derided fears she never felt,
And passing brethren daily censures dealt;
Hope for a son was now for ever past,
He was the first John Dighton, and the last;
His stomach fail'd, his case the doctor knew,
But said, "He still might hold a year or two."
"No more!" he said, "but why should I complain?
A life of doubt must be a life of pain:
Could I be sure-but why should I despair?
I'm sure my conduct has been just and fair;
In youth indeed I had a wicked will,
But I repented, and have sorrow still:

And proved that spirits, whether high or low,
No certain tokens of man's safety show;
Had reason ruled him in her proper place,

Had he while zealous been discreet and pure,
His knowledge humble, and his hope secure ;-
These guides had placed him on the solid rock,
Where faith had rested, nor received a shock;
But his, alas! was placed upon the sand,
Where long it stood not, and where none can stand.

TALE XX.

THE BROTHERS.

A brother noble,

Whose nature is so far from doing harms,
That he suspects none; on whose foolish konesty
My practice may ride easy.

King Lear, act i. sc. 2
He lets me feed with hinds,

Bars me the place of brother.

As You Like It, act i. sc. 1.
'Twas I, but 'tis not I: I do not shame
To tell you what I was, being what I am.
Ib. act iv. sc. 3.

THAN old George Fletcher, on the British coast,
Dwelt not a seaman who had more to boast;
Kind, simple, and sincere-he seldom spoke,
But sometimes sang and choruss'd," Hearts of Oak;"
In dangers steady, with his lot content,
His days in labour and in love were spent.
He left a son so like him, that the old
With joy exclaim'd, " 'tis Fletcher we behold;"
But to his brother when the kinsmen came,
And view'd his form, they grudged the father's

name.

George was a bold, intrepid, careless lad,
With just the failings that his father had;
Isaac was weak, attentive, slow, exact,
With just the virtues that his father lack'd.

George lived at sea; upon the land a guest-
He sought for recreation, not for rest;
While, far unlike, his brother's feebler form
Shrank from the cold, and shudder'd at the storm,
Still with the seaman's to connect his trade,
The boy was bound where blocks and ropes were
made.

George, strong and sturdy, had a tender mind
And was to Isaac pitiful and kind ·

A very father, till his art was gain'd,
And then a friend unwearied he remain'd:
He saw his brother was of spirit low,
His temper peevish, and his motions slow;
Not fit to bustle in a world, or make
Friends to his fortune for his merit's sake:
But the kind sailor could not boast the art
Of looking deeply in the human heart;
Else had he seen that this weak brother knew
What men to court, what objects to pursue;
That he to distant gain the way discern'd,
And none so crooked but his genius learn'd.

Isaac was poor, and this the brother felt;
He hired a house, and there the landsman dwelt;
Wrought at his trade, and had an easy home,
For there would George with cash and comforts