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land without being furnished with credentials to the Baron of Bradwardine.

When this matter was explained and settled, Mr Pembroke expressed his wish to take a private and particular leave of his dear pupil. The good man's exhortations to Edward to preserve an unblemished life and morals, to hold fast the principles of the Christian religion, and to eschew the profane company of scoffers and latitudinarians, too much abounding in the army, were not unmingled with his political prejudices. It had pleased Heaven, he said, to place Scotland (doubtless for the sins of their ancestors in 1642) in a deplorable state of darkness than even this unhappy kingdom of England. Here, at least, although the candlestick of the church of England had been in some degree removed from its place, it yet afforded a glimmering light; there was a hierarchy, though schismatical and fallen from the principles maintained by those great fathers of the church, Sancroft and his brethren; there was a liturgy, though woefully perverted in some of the principal petitions. But in Scotland it was utter darkness, and, excepting a sorrowful, scattered, and persecuted remnant, the pulpits were abandoned to presbyterians, and, he feared, to sectaries of every description. It should be his duty to fortify his dear pupil to resist such unhallowed and pernicious doctrines in

church and state, as must necessarily be forced at times upon his unwilling ears-Here he produced two immense folded packets, which appeared each to contain a whole ream of closely-written manuscript. They had been the labour of the worthy man's whole life; and never were labour and zeal more absurdly wasted.

He had at one time gone to London, with the intention of giving them to the world, by the medium of a bookseller in Little Britain, well known to deal in such commodities, and to whom he was instructed to address himself in a particular phrase, and with a certain sign, which, it seems, passed at that time current among the initiated Jacobites. The moment Mr Pembroke had uttered the Shibboleth with the appropriated gesture, the bibliopolist greeted him, notwithstanding every disclamation, by the title of Doctor, and conveying him into his back shop, after inspecting every possible and impossible place of concealment, he commenced: « Eh, doctor! -Well-all under the rose-snug-I keep no holes here even for a Hanoverian rat to hide in. And, what-eh! any good news from our friends over the water?-and how does the worthy king of France ?–Or perhaps you are more lately from Rome?-it must be Rome will do it at last-the church must light its candle at the old lamp.-Ehwhat, cautious? I like you the better; but

no fear.»

Here Mr Pembroke with some difficulty stopped a torrent of interrogations, eked out with signs, nods, and winks; and, baving at length convinced the bookseller that he did him too much honour in supposing him an emissary of exiled royalty, he explained his real business.

The map of books, with a much more composed air, proceeded to examine the manuscripts. The title of the first was, « A Dissent from Dissenters, or the Comprehension confuted ; showing the impossibily of any composition between the Church and Puritans, Presbyterians, or Sectaries of any description; illustrated from the Scriptures, the Fathers of the Church, and the soundest controversial Divines,» To this work the bookseller positively demurred. * Well meant,” he said, « and learned, doubtless; but the time had gone by. Printed on small-pica it would run to eight hundred pages, and could never pay. Begged therefore to be excused-Loved and honoured the true church from his soul, and, had it been a sermon on the martyrdom, or any twelvepenny touch why I would venture something for the honour of the clothBut come, let's see the other. “Right Hereditary righted !'- Ah! there's some sense in this. Hum-hum--hum-pages so many, paper so much, letter-press-Ah-I'll tell you, though, doctor, you must knock out some of

the Latin and Greek; heavy, doctor, damn'd heavy-(beg your pardon); and if you throw in a few grains more pepper-I am he that never peached my author- I have published for Drake and Charlwood Lawton, and poor Amhurst—Ah, Caleb! Caleb! Well, it was a shame to let poor Caleb starve, and so many fat rectors and squires among us.


gave him a dinner once a week; but, Lord love you, what's once a-week, when a man does not know where to go the other six days !, Well, but I must show the manuscript to little Tom Alibi, the solicitor, who manages all my law affairs-must keep on the windy sidethe mob were very uncivil the last time in Old Palace Yard - all whigs and roundheads, every man of them, Williamites and Hanover


The next day Mr Pembroke again called on the publisher, but found Tom Alibi's advice had determined him against undertaking the work. « Not but what I would go to what was I going to say?) to the plantations for the church with pleasure—but, dear doctor, I have a wife and family; but, to show my zeal, I'll recommend the job to my neighbour Trimmel - he is a bachelor, and leaving off business, so a voyage in a western barge would not inconvenience him.» But Mr Trimmel was also obdurate, and Mr Pembroke, fortunately perchance for himself, was compelled to re

lurn to Waverley-Honour with his treatise in vindication of the real fundamental principles of church and state safely packed in his saddle-bags.

As the public were thus likely to be deprived of the benefit arising from his lucubrations by the selfish cowardice of the trade, Mr Pembroke resolved to make two copies of these tremendous manuscripts for the use of his pupil. He felt that he had been indolent as a tutor, and besides his conscience checked him for complying with the request of Mr Richard Waverley, that he would impress no sentiments upon Edward's mind inconsistent with the present settlement in church and

« But now,» thought he, «I may without breach of my word, since he is no longer under my tuition, afford the youth the means of judging for himself, and have only to dread his reproaches for so long concealing the light which the perusal will flash upon his mind.» While he thus indulged the reveries of an author and a politician, his darling proselyte, seeing nothing very inviting in the title of the tracts, and appalled by the bulk and compact lines of the manuscript, quietly consigned them to a corner of his travelling trunk.

Aunt Rachael's farewell was brief and affectionate. She only cautioned her dear Edward, whom she probably deemed somewhat susceptible, against the fascination of Scottish


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