description: - But this not suiting her pure and ingenuous mind, she suddenly leaves the splendid mansion, and returns to her native village, where Colin and his mother soon persuade her to form one of their happy family. There is a great deal of goodheartedness in this tale, and a kind of moral beauty, which has lent more than usual elegance to the simple pictures it presents." JEFFREY.]

TALE XIV.

THE STRUGGLES OF CONSCIENCE.

I am a Villain; yet I lie, I am not;

Fool! of thyself speak well:- Fool! do not flatter.
My Conscience hath a thousand several tongues,

And every tongue brings in a several tale. - Richard III.

My Conscience is but a kind of hard Conscience.... The fiend gives the more friendly counsel. Merchant of Venice.

Thou hast it now- and I fear

Thou play'dst most foully for it. — Macbeth.

Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased,
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow,
Rase out the written troubles of the brain,
And with some sweet oblivious antidote
Cleanse the foul bosom of that perilous stuff
Which weighs upon the heart? — Macbeth.

Soft! I did but dream

Oh! coward Conscience, how dost thou afflict me!

Richard III.

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TALE XIV.

THE STRUGGLES OF CONSCIENCE.

A SERIOUS Toyman in the city dwelt,
Who much concern for his religion felt;
Reading, he changed his tenets, read again,
And various questions could with skill maintain;
Papist and Quaker if we set aside,

He had the road of every traveller tried ;
There walk'd awhile, and on a sudden turn'd
Into some by-way he had just discern'd:
He had a nephew, Fulham :

His Uncle's way, with every

Fulham went

turn content;

He saw his pious kinsman's watchful care,

And thought such anxious pains his own might spare, And he the truth obtain'd, without the toil, might

share.

In fact, young Fulham, though he little read,
Perceived his uncle was by fancy led ;
And smiled to see the constant care he took,
Collating creed with creed, and book with book.

At length the senior fix'd; I pass the sect
He call'd a Church, 'twas precious and elect;
Yet the seed fell not in the richest soil,
For few disciples paid the preacher's toil;
All in an attic-room were wont to meet
These few disciples at their pastor's feet;

With these went Fulham, who, discreet and grave,

Follow'd the light his worthy uncle gave;
Till a warm Preacher found a way t' impart
Awakening feelings to his torpid heart:
Some weighty truths, and of unpleasant kind,
Sank, though resisted, in his struggling mind:
He wish'd to fly them, but compell'd to stay,
Truth to the waking Conscience found her way;
For though the Youth was call'd a prudent lad,
And prudent was, yet serious faults he had -
Who now reflected — " Much am I surprised;
"I find these notions cannot be despised;
"No! there is something I perceive at last,

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Although my uncle cannot hold it fast; "Though I the strictness of these men reject, "Yet I determine to be circumspect: "This man alarms me, and I must begin "To look more closely to the things within: "These sons of zeal have I derided long,

"But now begin to think the laughers wrong;

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Nay! my good uncle, by all teachers moved,

"Will be preferr'd to him who none approved;

"Better to love amiss than nothing to have

loved."