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Der. I can fave you this journey. I have plenty of meal at home, and will lend your wife as much as the

wants.

Scrape. Ah! neighbor Derby, I am fure your meal will never fuit my wife. You can't conceive how whimfical fhe is.

Der. If he were ten times more whimsical than she is, I am certain fhe would like it for you fold it to me your felf, and you affured me it was the best you ever had.

Scrape. Yes, yes, that's true, indeed; I always have the best of every thing. You know, neighbor Derby, that no one is more ready to oblige than I am; but I must tell you the mare this morning refused to eat hay; and truly I am afraid fhe will not carry you.

Der. Oh, never fear! I will feed her well with oats on the road.

Scrape. Oats! neighbor; oats are very dear.

Der. They are fo indeed; but no matter for that. When I have a good job in view, I never stand for trifles. Scrape. It is very flippery; and I am really afraid fhe will fall and break your neck.

Der. Give yourfelf no uneafinefs about that. The mare is certainly fure-footed; and, befides, you were just now talking yourself of galloping her to town.

Scrape. Well then, to tell you the plain truth, though I wish to oblige you with all my heart, my faddle is torn quite in pieces, and I have juft fent my bridle to be mended. Der. Luckily, I have both a bridle and a faddle hanging up at home.

Scrape. Ah! that may be ; but I am fure your faddle will never fit my mare.

Der. Why then I'll borrow neighbor Clodpole's. Scrape. Clodpole's! his will no more fit than yours

does.

Der. At the worst, then, I'll go to my good friend Squire Jones. He has half a score of them; and I am fure he will lend me one that will fit her.

Scrape. You know, friend Derby, that no one is more willing to oblige his neighbors than I am. I do affure you the beaft fhould be at your fervice with all my heart; but he has not been curried, I believe, for three weeks

paft.

paft. Her foretop and mane want combing and cutting very much. If any one should fee her in her prefent plight, it would ruin the fale of her.

Der. O a horfe is foon curried, and my fon Sam fhall difpatch her at once.

Scrape. Yes, very likely; but I this monent recollect the creature has no fhoes on.

Der. Well, is there not a blacksmith hard by?

Scrape. What, that tinker of a Dobfon! I would not truft fuch a bungler to fhoe a goat. No, no; none but uncle Tom Thumper is capable of fhoeing my mare.

Der. As good luck will have it then, I fhall pafs right by his door.

Scrape. [Calling to his fon.] Timothy, Timothy. Here's neighbor Derby, who wants the loan of the grey mare to ride to town to day. You know the skin was rubbed off her back laft week a hand's breadth or more. [He gives Tim a wink.] However, I believe the is well enough by this time. Yknow, Tim, how ready I am to oblige my neighbors. And, indeed, we ought to do all the good we can in this world. We muft certainly let neighbor Derby have her, if the will poffibly anfwer his purpose. Yes, yes; I fee plainly by Tim's countenance, neighbor Derby, that he's difpofed to oblige you. I would not have refufed you the mare for the worth of her. If I had, I should have expected you would have refused me in your turn. None of my neighbors can accuse me of being backward in doing them a kindnefs. Come, Timothy, what do ; you fay ?

Tim. What do I fay, father! Why, I fay, Sir, that I am no lefs ready than you are to do a neighborly kindness. But the mare is by no means capable of performing the journey. About a hand's breadth did you fay, Sir! Why the fkin is torn from the poor creature's back, of the bignefs of your great brimm'd hat. And, befides, I have promifed her, as foon as fhe is able to travel, to Ned Saunders, to carry a load of apples to the market.

Scrape. Do you hear that, neighbor? I am very forry matters turn out thus. I would not have disobliged you for the price of two fuch mares. Believe me, neighbor Derby, I am really forry for your fake, that matters turn

out thus.

Der

Der. And I as much for yours, neighbor Scrapewell; for to tell you the truth, I received a letter this morning from Mr. Griffin, who tells me if I will be in town this, day, he will give me the refufal of all that lot of timber which he is about cutting down upon the back of cobblehill; and I intended you should have fhared half of it, which would have been not less than fifty dollars in your pocket. But

Scrape. Fifty dollars, did you fay!

Der. Ay, truly did I; but as your mare is out of o der, I'll go and fee if I can get old Roan the blacksmith's horfe.

Scrape. Old Roan! My mare is at your fervice, neigh bor. Here, Tim, tell Ned Saunders he can't have the mare. Neighbor Derby wants her; and I won't refufe fo good a friend any thing he asks for.

Der. But what are you to do for meal?

Serape. My wife can do without it this fortnight, if you want the mare fo long.

Der. But then your faddle is all in pieces.

Scrape. I meant the old one. I have bought a new one fince, and you fhall have the first use of it.

Der. And

get her fhod?

you would have me call at Thumper's and

Scrape. No, no; I had forgotten to tell you, that, I let neighbor Dobfon fhoe her last week by way of trial; and to do him juftice, I muft own he fhoes extremely well.

Der. But if the poor creature has loft so much skin from off her back

Scrape. Poh, poh! That is just one of our Tim's large Aories. I do affure you, it was not at first bigger than my thumb nail; and I am certain it has not grown any fince. .Der. At least, however, let her have fomething the will eat, fince the refuses hay.

Serape. She did, indeed, refufe hay this morning; but the only reason was that he was cramm'd full of oats. You have nothing to fear, neighbor; the mare is in perfect trim; and she will skim you over the ground like a bird. I wish you a good journey and a profitable job.

ON PROFANE SWEARING.

FEW evil habits are of more pernicious confequence, or overcome with more difficulty, than that very odious one of profane curfing and fwearing. It cannot be expected that the force of moral principles thould be very frong upon any one who is accustomed, upon every trivial occafion, and frequently without any occafion at all, to flight the precepts and the character of the Supreme Being.

2. When we have loft any degree of respect for the Author of our existence, and the concerns of futurity, and can bring the moft awful appellations into our flighteft converfation, merely by way of embellishing our foolish and perhaps fallacious narratives, or to give a greater force to our little refentments, confcience will foon lofe its influence upon our minds.

3. Nothing but the fear of difgrace, or a dread of human laws, will reftrain any perfon, addicted to common fwearing, from the most deteftable perjury.

4. For if a man can be brought to trifle with the most facred things in his common difcourfe, he cannot furely confider them of more confequence when his interest leads him to fwear falfely for his own defence or emolument.

5. It is really aftonishing how imperceptibly this vice creeps upon a perfon, and how rootedly he afterwards adheres to it. People generally begin with using only flight exclamations, and which feem hardly to carry the appearance of any thing criminal; and fo proceed on to others, till the most shocking oaths become familiar.

6. And when once the habit is confirmed, it is rarely ever eradicated. The fwearer lofes the ideas which are attached to the words he makes ufe of, and therefore execrates his friend when he means to blefs him; and calls God to witness his intention of doing things, which he knows he has no thoughts of performing in reality..

7. A young gentleman with whom I am intimately ac quainted, and who poffeffes many excellent qualifications, but unhappily in a declining ftate of health, and evidently tending rapidly to the chambers of death, has been from his

I 2

childhood

childhood fo addicted to the practice of fwearing in his common converfation, that even now I am frequently fhocked by his profaning the name of that facred Being before whom he, moft probably, will foon be obliged to appear.

8. It must furely be exceedingly painful to a fenfibile heart, feeling for the best interests of a valuable friend, and otherwife excellent acquaintance, to observe the person he fo highly regards confirmed in fuch a fhocking habit, even while standing in the most awful fituation in which it is poffible for a human creature to be placed.

9. Almost every other vice affords its votaries fome pretences of excufe, from its being productive of present pleafure, or affording a profpect of future advantage; but the profane fwearer cannot even say that he feels any fatisfaction, or that he hopes to meet with any benefit, from this foolish habit.

10. Let thofe then, who are addicted to this vice, feriously confider how aggravated a guilt it is to offend the Deity continually, without having the leaft shadow of an excufe for fo doing; and determine at once to regulate their converfation and conduct in fuch a manner as to affure to themfelves the permanent fatisfaction which will refult, at the clofe of life, from the reflection that they have erred no farther from the rules of eternal justice, than the common condition of humanity in its prefent state renders unavoidable; and that they have endeavored, to the utmost of their power, to correct every error in their conduct, when they have felt it condemned by the dictates of confcience.

THE TRIUMPH OF VIRTUE.

A MERCHANT of Provence, in France,

of a most amiable character, but of narrow circumstances, met with fome confiderable lofes in trade, and became a bankrupt. Being reduced to penury and want, he went to Paris to feek fome affiftance.

2. He waited on all his old customers in trade, repre. fented to them his misfortunes, which he had taken every

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