The Shepherd of Salisbury Plain and Other Tales Part 21

_Bragwell._ Because it is in the Common Prayer Book, to be sure; a book which I have heard you yourself say was written by wise and good men; the glory of Christianity, the pillars of the Protestant church.

_Worthy._ But have you no other reason?

_Bragwell._ No, I can't say I have.

_Worthy._ When you repeat that excellent form of confession, do you really feel that you _are_ a miserable sinner?

_Bragwell._ No, I can't say I do. But that is no objection to my repeating it: because it may suit the case of many who are so. I suppose the good doctors who drew it up, intended that part for wicked people only, such as drunkards, and thieves, and murderers; for I imagine they could not well contrive to make the same prayer quite suit an honest man and a rogue; and so I suppose they thought it better to make a good man repeat a prayer which suited a rogue, than to make a rogue repeat a prayer which suited a good man; and you know it is so customary for every body to repeat the general confession, that it can't hurt the credit of the most respectable persons, though every respectable person must know they have no particular concern in it; as they are not sinners.

_Worthy._ Depend upon it, Mr. Bragwell, those good doctors you speak of, were not quite of your opinion; they really thought that what you call honest men were grievous sinners in a certain sense, and that the best of us stand in need of making that humble confession.

Mr. Bragwell, do you believe in the fall of Adam?

_Bragwell._ To be sure I do, and a sad thing for Adam it was; why, it is in the Bible, is it not? It is one of the prettiest chapters in Genesis. Don't _you_ believe it, Mr. Worthy?

_Worthy._ Yes, truly I do. But I don't believe it _merely_ because I read it in Genesis; though I know, indeed, that I am bound to believe every part of the word of G.o.d. But I have still an additional reason for believing in the fall of the first man.

_Bragwell._ Have you, indeed? Now, I can't guess what that can be.

_Worthy._ Why, my own observation of what is within myself teaches me to believe it. It is not only the third chapter of Genesis which convinces me of the truth of the fall, but also the sinful inclinations which I find in my own heart corresponding with it.

This is one of those leading truths of Christianity of which I can never doubt a moment: first because it is abundantly expressed or implied in Scripture; and next, because the consciousness of the evil nature, I carry about me confirms the doctrine beyond all doubt. Besides, is it not said in Scripture, that by one man sin entered into the world, and that "all we, like lost sheep, have gone astray?" "that by one man's disobedience many were made sinners?"

and so again in twenty more places that I could tell you of?

_Bragwell._ Well; I never thought of this. But is not this a very melancholy sort of doctrine, Mr. Worthy?

_Worthy._ It is melancholy, indeed, if we stop here. But while we are deploring this sad truth, let us take comfort from another, that "as in Adam all die, so in Christ shall all be made alive."

_Bragwell._ Yes; I remember I thought those very fine words, when I heard them said over my poor father's grave. But as it was in the burial of the dead, I did not think of taking it to myself; for I was then young and hearty, and in little danger of dying, and I have been so busy ever since, that I have hardly had time to think of it.

_Worthy._ And yet the service p.r.o.nounced at the burial of all who die, is a solemn admonition to all who live. It is there said, as indeed the Scripture says also, "I am the resurrection and the life; whosoever _believeth in me_ shall never die, but I will raise him up at the last day." Now do you think you _believe in Christ_, Mr.

Bragwell?

_Bragwell._ To be sure I do; why you are always fancying me an atheist.

_Worthy._ In order to believe in Christ, we must believe first in our own guilt and our own unworthiness; and when we do this we shall see the use of a Saviour, and not till then.

_Bragwell._ Why, all this is a new way of talking. I can't say I ever meddled with such subjects before in my life. But now, what do you advise a man to do upon your plan of religion?

_Worthy._ Why, all this leads me back to the ground from which we set out, I mean the duty of prayer; for if we believe that we have an evil nature within us, and that we stand in need of G.o.d's grace to help us, and a Saviour to redeem us, we shall be led of course to pray for what we so much need; and without this conviction we shall not be led to pray.

_Bragwell._ Well, but don't you think, Mr. Worthy, that you good folks who make so much of prayer, have lower notions than we have of the wisdom of the Almighty? You think he wants to be informed of the thing you tell him; whereas, I take it for granted that he knows them already, and that, being so good as he is, he will give me every thing he sees fit to give me, without my asking it.

_Worthy._ G.o.d, indeed, who knows all things, knows what we want before we ask him; but still has he not said that, "with prayer and supplication we must make known our requests unto him?" Prayer is the way in which G.o.d has said that his favor must be sought. It is the channel through which he has declared it his sovereign will and pleasure that his blessings should be conveyed to us. What ascends up in prayer, descends to us again in blessings. It is like the rain which just now fell, and which had been drawn up from the ground in vapors to the clouds before it descended from them to the earth in that refreshing shower. Besides prayer has a good effect on our minds; it tends to excite a right disposition toward G.o.d in us, and to keep up a constant sense of our dependence. But above all, it is the way to get the good things we want. "Ask," says the Scripture, "and ye shall receive."

_Bragwell._ Now, that is the very thing which I was going to deny: for the truth is, men do not always get what they ask; I believe if I could get a good crop for asking it, I would pray oftener than I do.

_Worthy._ Sometimes, Mr. Bragwell, men "ask and receive not, because they ask amiss;" "they ask that they may consume it on their l.u.s.ts."

They ask worldly blessings, perhaps, when they should ask spiritual ones. Now, the latter, which are the good things I spoke of, are always granted to those who pray to G.o.d for them, though the former are not. I have observed in the case of some worldly things I have sought for, that the grant of my prayer would have caused the misery of my life; so that G.o.d equally consults our good in what he withholds, and in what he bestows.

_Bragwell._ And yet you continue to pray on, I suppose?

_Worthy._ Certainly; but then I try to mend as to the object of my prayers. I pray for G.o.d's blessing and favor, which is better than riches.

_Bragwell._ You seem very earnest on this subject.

_Worthy._ To cut the matter short; I ask then, whether prayer is not positively commanded in the gospel? When this is the case, we can never dispute about the necessity or the duty of a thing, as we may when there is no such command. Here, however, let me just add also, that a man's prayers may be turned into no small use in the way of discovering to him whatever is amiss in his life.

_Bragwell._ How so, Mr. Worthy?

_Worthy._ Why, suppose now, you were to try yourself by turning into the shape of a prayer every practice in which you allow yourself.

For instance, let the prayer in the morning be a sort of preparation for the deeds of the day, and the prayer at night a sort of retrospection of those deeds. You, Mr. Bragwell, I suspect, are a little inclined to covetousness; excuse me, sir. Now, suppose after you have been during a whole day a little too eager to get rich; suppose, I say, you were to try how it would sound to beg of G.o.d at night on your knees, to give you still more money, though you have already so much that you know not what to do with it. Suppose you were to pray in the morning, "O Lord, give me more riches, though those I have are a snare and a temptation to me;" and ask him in the same solemn manner to bless all the grasping means you intend to make use of in the day, to add to your substance?

_Bragwell._ Mr. Worthy, I have no patience with you for thinking I could be so wicked.

_Worthy._ Yet to make such a covetous prayer as this is hardly more wicked, or more absurd, than to lead the life of the covetous, by sinning up to the spirit of that very prayer which you would not have the courage to put into words. Still further observe how it would sound to confess your sins, and pray against them all, except one favorite sin. "Lord, do thou enable me to forsake all my sins, except the love of money;" "in this one thing pardon thy servant."

Or, "Do thou enable me to forgive all who have injured me, except old Giles." This you will object against as a wicked prayer, it must be wicked in practice. It is even the more shocking to make it the language of the heart, or of the life, than of the lips. And yet, because you have been used to see people act thus, and have not been used to hear them pray thus, you are shocked at the one, and not shocked at the other.

_Bragwell._ Shocked, indeed! Why, at this rate, you would teach one to hate one's self.

_Worthy._ Hear me out, Mr. Bragwell; you turned your good nephew, Tom Broad, out of doors, you know; you owned to me it was an act of injustice. Now, suppose on the morning of your doing so you had begged of G.o.d, in a solemn act of prayer, to prosper the deed of cruelty and oppression, which you intended to commit that day. I see you are shocked at the thought of such a prayer. Well, then, would not hearty prayer have kept you from committing that wicked action?

In short, what a life must that be, no act of which you dare beg G.o.d to prosper and bless? If once you can bring yourself to believe that it is your bounden duty to pray for G.o.d's blessing on your day's work, you will certainly grow careful about pa.s.sing such a day as you may safely ask his blessing upon. The remark may be carried to sports, diversions, company. A man, who once takes up the serious use of prayer, will soon find himself obliged to abstain from such diversions, occupations, and societies, as he can not reasonably desire that G.o.d will bless to him; and thus he will see himself compelled to leave off either the practice or the prayer. Now, Mr.

Bragwell, I need not ask you which of the two he that is a real Christian will give up, sinning or praying.

Mr. Bragwell began to feel that he had not the best of the argument, and was afraid he was making no great figure in the eyes of his friend. Luckily, however, he was relieved from the difficulty into which the necessity of making some answer must have brought him, by finding they were come to the end of their little journey: and he never beheld the bunch of grapes, which decorated the sign of the Golden Lion, with more real satisfaction.

I refer my readers for the transactions at the Golden Lion, and for the sad adventures which afterward befell Mr. Bragwell's family, to the fifth part of the History of the Two Wealthy Farmers.

PART V.

THE GOLDEN LION.

Mr. Bragwell and Mr. Worthy alighted at the Golden Lion. It was market-day: the inn, the yard, the town was all alive. Bragwell was quite in his element. Money, company, and good cheer always set his spirits afloat. He felt himself the princ.i.p.al man in the scene. He had three great objects in view; the sale of his land; the letting Mr. Worthy see how much he was looked up to by so many substantial people, and the showing these people what a wise man his most intimate friend, Mr. Worthy was. It was his way to try to borrow a little credit from every person, and every thing he was connected with, and by the credit to advance his interest and increase his wealth.

The farmers met in a large room; and while they were transacting their various concerns, those whose pursuits were the same naturally herded together. The tanners were drawn to one corner, by the common interest which they took in bark and hides. A useful debate was carrying on at another little table, whether the practice of _sowing_ wheat or of _planting_ it were most profitable. Another set were disputing whether horses or oxen were best for plowing. Those who were concerned in ca.n.a.ls, sought the company of other ca.n.a.lers; while some, who were interested in the new bill for inclosures, wisely looked out for such as knew most about waste lands.

Mr. Worthy was pleased with all these subjects, and picked up something useful on each. It was a saying of his, that most men understood some one thing, and that he who was wise would try to learn from every man something on the subject he best knew; but Mr.

Worthy made a further use of the whole. What a pity is it, said he, that Christians are not so desirous to turn their time to good account as men of business are! When shall we see religious persons as anxious to derive profit from the experience of others as these farmers? When shall we see them as eager to turn their time to good account? While I approve these men for not being _slothful in business_, let me improve the hint, by being also _fervent in spirit_.

SHOWING HOW MUCH WISER THE CHILDREN OF THIS GENERATION ARE THAN THE CHILDREN OF LIGHT.

When the hurry was a little over, Mr. Bragwell took a turn on the bowling-green. Mr. Worthy followed him, to ask why the sale of the estate was not brought forward. "Let the auctioneer proceed to business," said he; "the company will be glad to get home by daylight. I speak mostly with a view to others; for I do not think of being a purchaser myself." "I know it," said Bragwell, "or I would not be such a fool as to let the cat out of the bag. But is it really possible," proceeded he, with a smile of contempt, "that you should think I will sell my estate before dinner? Mr. Worthy, you are a clever man at books, and such things; and perhaps can make out an account on paper in a handsomer manner than I can. But I never found much was to be got by fine writing. As to figures, I can carry enough of them in my head to add, divide, and multiply more money than your learning will ever give you the fingering of. You may beat me at a book, but you are a very child at a bargain. Sell my land before dinner, indeed!"

Mr. Worthy was puzzled to guess how a man was to show more wisdom by selling a piece of ground at one hour than another, and desired an explanation. Bragwell felt rather more contempt for his understanding than he had ever done before. "Look'ee, Mr. Worthy,"

said he, "I do not think that knowledge is of any use to a man, unless he has sense enough to turn it to account. Men are my books, Mr. Worthy; and it is by reading, spelling, and putting them together to good purpose, that I have got up in the world. I shall give you a proof of this to-day. These farmers are most of them come to the Lion with a view of purchasing this bit of land of mine, if they should like the bargain. Now, as you know a thing can't be any great bargain both to the buyer and the seller too, to them and to me, it becomes me as a man of sense, who has the good of his family at heart, to secure the bargain to myself. I would not cheat any man, sir, but I think it fair enough to turn his weakness to my own advantage; there is no law against that, you know; and this is the use of one man's having more sense than another. So, whenever I have a piece of land to sell, I always give a handsome dinner, with plenty of punch and strong beer. We fill up the morning with other business; and I carefully keep back my talk about the purchase till we have dined. At dinner we have, of course a slice of politics.

This puts most of us into a pa.s.sion, and you know anger is thirsty.

Besides 'Church and King' naturally brings on a good many other toasts. Now, as I am master of the feast, you know it would be shabby in me to save my liquor; so I push about the gla.s.s one way, and the tankard the other, till all my company are as merry as kings. Every man is delighted to see what a fine hearty fellow he has to deal with, and Mr. Bragwell receives a thousand compliments.

By this time they have gained as much in good humor as they have lost in sober judgment, and this is the proper moment for setting the auctioneer to work, and this I commonly do to such good purpose, that I go home with my purse a score or two pounds heavier than if they had not been warmed by their dinner. In the morning men are cool and suspicious, and have all their wits about them; but a cheerful gla.s.s cures all distrust. And what is lucky, I add to my credit as well as my pocket, and get more praise for my dinner than blame for my bargain."