saries, would have the public entertain. Consider this then when you read Le Blanc's letters.

On the other hand, I have had a very large and intimate acquaintance with mass-priests in my time, in many parts of the world; and, a few excellent ones excepted, I can affirm, that more wicked and more worthless men than these Romish monks, I have never seen. If adultery, fornication, drunkenness, and swearing, are crimes, then the greatest criminals I could name in these respects, are Roman-catholic priests. Let this assertion of mine be set over.against the character the Abbé Le Blanc gives the English protestant ministers. Consider all I have said, when you read this masspriest's fifty-eighth letter, and then judge of our reformation and clergy*. But it is time to re

*Note, reader, in the fourth volume of a work, called Notes relating to Men, and Things, and Books, you will find some more of my remarks on the Abbé Le Blanc's epistles. You will see, among other observations on this monk, a vindication of Archbishop Tillotson. The Abbé rails at one of this prelate's fine sermons, with great malice and impudence, and has the vanity to think his miserable declamation an answer. This wretched and despicable Romish apostate has the impudence and impiety to defend the worship of his God of dough, and would, if it were in his power, per

turn to the cottage of Christopher the fisherman, and see what happened to Antonia and Agnes.

suade the readers of his letters, to adore the tiny cake he prostrates himself before. For this the reader will find the mass-priest well chastised in the work I have referred to; and see the doctrine of the Lord's Supper set in a true light. You will find there a curious history of the mass, from the time the popish doctors first drew it out of the bottomless pit; and see it made quite evident, that in this abominable article of their faith, as well as in every other part of their execrable religion, they make void the law of God, and sink the human race into the vilest slavery and idolatry. Beware then, Christians, of popery. Still bravely dare to protest against her infernal schemes and inventions, and draw your religion from the book of God, that holy volume of inestimable treasure. It is our light in darkness, our comfort under affliction, our direction to heaven, and let us die in defence of it, if ever there should be occasion, rather than suffer the blood-thirsty papists, the red-handed idolaters, to snatch it out of our hands. They will give us for it the despicable legends of fictitious saints and false miracles; a history of diseases cured instantly by relics; accounts of speaking images-stories of travelling chapels-wonders done by a Madona; and the devil knows what he has crowded into their wretched heads. Down with popery then, the religion of hell, and may that happy state be erected, when truth and love shall embrace and reign. Come Lord Jesus, come quickly.

When I came back to the poor man's cottage, he told me the ladies were come home, and as he had given Miss CRANMER some account of me, as a traveller who had journeyed into that remote corner of the world, in search of antiquities and curiosities, he did not think this lady would be averse to seeing me and hearing me too, if I contrived any plausible pretence to throw myself in her way.

Immediately then I crossed the water, went up to the house, and as I saw her and the fair AGNES, her cousin, walking in the garden, near the ha, leaped it over immediately, broad as it was, and with my hat in my hand, made her a low bow, began an apology for presuming to introduce myself to her presence in such a manner, and concluded with my being in love with her charming character, before I had the honour and happiness of seeing her. What a condition then must I be in, when a heaven-born maid, like her, appeared! Strange pleasures filled my soul, unloosed my tongue, and my first talk could not be any thing but love. I said much on the subject, not worth repeating to the reader; and the issue of the matter was, that I became so well acquainted with this innocent beauty, that, on taking my leave, I had an invitation to breakfast with her the next morning. I was there by eight, and really and truly quite charmed with her. She was pretty as it was possible for flesh and

blood to be, had a beautiful understanding; and as she had very little notion of men, having seen very few, except the two old servants who lived with her, she had not a notion of any danger that could come from conversing freely with a man she knew nothing of, and who might be an enemy in disguise.

After breakfast, I offered to go, but she asked me to stay and dine; and to sum up the matter, I did dine, sup, and breakfast with her every day, for a month, till my good priest, FRIAR FLEMING, arrived, on a letter I had sent him, and we were married before the end of six weeks. We loved to excess, and did enhance human happiness to a high degree. She was good as an angel, and for two years we lived in unspeakable felicity. For the greatest part of that time, we were at Orton-Lodge, as she liked the wild place. There she likewise died of the small-pox, in the first month of the third year, and left me the most disconsolate of men. Four days I sat with my eyes shut, on account of this loss, and then left the Lodge once more, to live if I could, since my religion ordered me so to do, and see what I was next to meet with in the world. As grief sat powerfully on my spirits, and if not dislodged, would have drank them all up very soon, I resolved to hasten to Harrogate, and in the festivities of that place forget my departed partner

as soon as I could. I laid my Antonia by my Charlotte and my Statia, and then rode off. What happened at the Wells, and all the observations I made there, and thereabout, the reader will find shortly narrated.

As I mention nothing of any children by so many wives, some readers may perhaps wonder at this, and therefore, to give a general answer, once, for all, I think it sufficient to observe, that I had a great many, to carry on the succession; but as they never were concerned in any extraordinary affairs, nor ever did any remarkable things, that I heard of; only rise and breakfast, read and saunter, drink and eat, it would not be fair, in my opinion, to make any one pay for their history. *

In the year 1731 I arrived at Harrogate, in the

*The author of John Buncle, junior, printed in 1776, a second volume of which appeared in 1778, endeavours to exculpate himself and brethren from this concise but severe satire which the author has passed upon his children, by observing that being already stamped with the character of a fool, and consequently no character to lose, he with more boldness published those letters, as the only chance left him, by which he might gain the good opinion of the reader, and as a means of wiping off the reproach their dear father had entailed upon them. Anecdotes of John Buncle, junior, vol. i. p. 72.