upon his feet, fall down upon his knees, and lift up both his hands; at which the tears ran down my clergyman’s cheeks; but our great misfortune was, we could not hear one word that passed between them.  Another time he would embrace her, wiping the tears from her eyes, kissing her with the greatest transports, and then both kneel down for some minutes together.  Such raptures of joy did this confirm in my young priest, that he could scarcely contain himself:  And a little after this, we observed by her motion, as frequently lifting up her hands, and laying them on her breast, that she was mightily affected with his discourse, and so they withdrew from our sight.

When we came back, we found them both waiting to be called in; upon which he agreed to examine him alone, and so I began thus to discourse him.  “Prithee, Will Atkins,” said I, “what education have you?  What was your father?”

W.A. A better man than ever I shall be; he was, Sir, a clergyman, who gave me good instruction, or correction, which I despised like a brute as I was, and murdered my poor father.

Pr. Ha! a murderer!

[Here the priest started and looked pale, as thinking he had really killed his father.]

R.C. What, did you kill him with your hands?

W.A. No, Sir, I cut not his throat, but broke his heart by the most unnatural turn of disobedience to the tenderest and best of fathers.

R.C. Well, I pray God grant you repentance:  I did not ask you to exhort a confession; but I asked you because I see you have more knowledge of what is good than your companions.

W.A. O Sir, whenever I look back upon my past life, conscience upbraids me with my father:  the sins against our parents make the deepest wounds, and their weight lies the heaviest upon the mind.

R.C. You talk, Will, too feelingly and sensibly for me; I am not able to bear it.

W.A. You bear it, Sir! you know nothing of it.

R.C. But yes, Atkins, I do; and every shore, valley, and tree in this island, witness the anguish of my soul for my undutifulness to my kind father, whom I have murdered likewise; yet my repentance falls infinitely short of yours.  But, Will, how comes the sense of this matter to touch you just now?

W.A. Sir, the work you have set me about, has occasioned it; for talking to my wife about God and religion, she has preached me such a sermon, that I shall retain it in lasting remembrance.

R.C. No, no, it is your own moving pious arguments to her, has made conscience fling them back upon you.  But pray, Atkins, inform us what passed between you and your wife, and in what manner you did begin.

W.A. I talked to her of the laws of marriage, the reason of such compacts, whereby order and justice is maintained; without which men would run from their wives and children, to the dissolution of families or inheritances.