The Press.
London, England, 1853-11-12 00:00:00

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current theology, that to disentangle these,
and eliminate from our modes of thought and
speech the traces of a bygone and now un-
meaning philosophy,—to restore anew the
essential dogmas of the Church in the more
exact and truthful forms of recent science,—
has come to be regarded, alike by sneering
foes and timid advocates, as an undertaking
tantamount to the speedy extinction of dog-
theology altogether. It is not the least
admirable quality of the work under notice
that its writer has succeeded in performing.
and that easily and safely, that perilous but
really no longer avoidable process : the Nor th-
West Passage (if our readers will indulge us)
of theology in our day. lie hits found in a
deeper study of the facts, at once of the physi-
sal universe without. and of the spiritual
world of man's nature within, a point of con-
tact with the revealed truth of 604, mot a
basis for its evidences, broader and more
certain than the i priori Illethml of other days
could by any dialectic subtlety provide ; at-
taining to the rudiments at least of that system
we so earnestly long to see drawn out—of
positive theological truth, which will be hailed
as the norunt orronm, of religious philosophy.
We cannot conceive a more healthy impulse
to be given to the youthful minds of the uni-
versity, on the breaking up of that narrow and
enfeebling system which has of late yearn
reduced so many of the most promising of her
rising children to the alternatives of degrading
superstition or listless infidelity, than that
which may be expected from addresses like
Close befirre us, shaming the apathy of selfish
doubt by their manly earnestness of tone, and
turning the petty thrusts of the would-be
sceptic with the well-weighed weapons of
reasoning and truth. Mr. Tinenson feels, with
reason, that
- • •

As many of the cement of jeetiou. v l out with 71 denial
of tl►e hiliaitailtial truth of the word tit t,od, it ataliii not
help their solution to otter scriptural proofs and illustra-
tions only ;--p. 2.
but he has shown how much may be done to
dissipate I►rejudice and error, and promote the
recel►tion of thal's word, by critical attention
to the facts of revelation, and seholarly ac-
quaintance with its language. We proceed,
however, to lay before our readers some out-
line of the author's method and course of ar-
gument :
It is proposed, therefore, to show, that there aro unfits
m our nut tie•, real so prcsothes, which this eitHirille
world satisfy ( Lect. 11: that Pagan religions have recog-
nised the same wants, and worked out methods of meet-
ing them which show no obscure analogy teethe doctrine of
the Cross t?..1 ; and that the law of __tows, being tilde a
revelation sent filial Coal, faarshwlow•ed distinctly that
which the later r•velat' of the gospel set forth in sub-
MAIM, ). Then it will lw nt•t•essary to state accu-
rately the doctrine as put forth by our blessed Lorei in the
Gospel., vindicating liar them on the tale hand their hist°
rind character, and distinguishing on the other between
those divine statements and human additions and explanas
lions of later date t 4 I. Next we ninst inquire, with the
Same exactness, what was the tenor of the apostles;
preaching w•l►en they carried abroad to Jew and ~reek the
,message of salvation, and wind place the doctrine of the
Cross held now with those 1111'11 MllO had lately been so
reluctant to believe in a muttering Messiah (tel. Ibllow•ing
this &whine down into later times, we must inquire• how it.
was preserved, modified, obscured, or altered, as it came
into contact with new modes of thought, and as a restless
curiosity endeavoured to penetrate the depths of the mys-
tery, and to unfold the hot.' and the a hy of that which holy
Snipture had put forward as a Met tit I. Lastly, we shall
state ,mew• the scriptund doctrine of the Atonement (71,
and inquire into the chief hintletalleCli to a cordial belief in

--- ---
The first and fundanwntal step of the argu-
ment is to establish that an atonement is
necessary and possible :
it is plain that three ideas arc necessary to a right
appiehensiou of the doctrine of the Atonement ;—the idea
of (mod, the conviction of sin, and the butia that, m spite
of sin, Uotl and the sinner can be again reconciled.—p. 1.
Not feeling it necessary to devote much
apace to the first of these positions, the author
finds room notwithstanding for a masterly
statement of the several modes proposed by
different classes of thinhers in proof of the
being of Clod : and points out their mutual
relation to each other as parts of a cumulative
series of inference. Prfogf, indeed, in the
strict sense, cannot apply to an essential idea
like this, any more than to the existence of
matter, or of our own free will.---(See p. 1 3.)
No single argument can establish the existence
of Deity ; inasmuch as no efl'ort of reason can
gishaubt the ides of (lod. or be even adequate

THE PRESS.

to it, and no possible induction from finite
data can construct the Absolute and Infinite.
The idea of infinity, like that of necessity,
transcends all objective experience, and is in
tact logically anterior to it, being itself the
ultimate condition and latent ground of all
finite ideas. Whether, indeed, the attributes
of the Godhead admit of being deduced at once
by simple analysis of the original conception
of Deity, 01• are attached to it by the strictly
synthetical process of investing Him with
those moral characteristics, which we con•
ceive by an infinite expansion of our own, is
a question into which the writer has not felt
bound to enter. But if man cannot look out
of himself without becoming conscious that
God exists, so neither can he turn inwardly
and not perceive the existence of Sin. In
truth,
Mau first becomes conscious that there is a divine law
when he deviates from it, as he is insensible of the
existence of his own bodily organs till their healthy
action is disturbed.—p.
Mr. Thomson seems to us, however, to have
lost sight for the moment of his usual accuracy,
when he states (p. 10), that "all profound
" conceptions of sin are derived directly from
" the contemplation of Him who bath no sin, of
" God himself." To this end God must be re-
garded through the medium of something else,
viz., the thinking self; producing, through the
reflex act of comparison, the sentiment of hu-
perfection, demerit, and Sin. It would surely
not be correct to say that the direct view of light
suggested darkness, or that of beauty gave gi
itself the notion of the ugly. The analysis of
Sin, however, we otherwise especially commend
to our readers attention. The author has
gained here a point of view from which he
takes in at once nll that has been done by the
best writers in this important hut difileult
field. The separate notions of Sin, as a priva-
tion of good (p. 17), as personal selfishness
(p. 114), and as a violation of the divine law (p.
'10), are traced to their due position as consti-
tuent elements in the one harmonious
scriptural representation of the subject.
The mutual action of these two antagonistic
ideas in man awakens in him a third, that of
Reconcilement or Recovery, both as a need and
a possibility. The evidences of this craving
in man are ably drawn out from the sponta-
neous recourse to sacriliees among the heathen
of every ntee and creed, and from the divine
sanction of the same under the Mosaic law.
Then the New Testament doctrine is deve-
loped of Atonement through the incarnation
and work of Christ, the antitype of Jewish
figures, the realization of Pagan yearnings:
—" God in Christ, reconciling the world
" unto himself." We cannot do justice to the
systematic and condensed yet copious reason-
ing by which this outline is filled up, and con-
firmed by an "appeal to the testimony of
" Christians of all ages, in proof that the Re-
" deemer we have found enlightens all those
"blind wants, and satisfies those obscurelong-
" lugs" (p. 170). Neither can we set fairly be
fore our readers the argumentative method of
the book, and the tokens with which it
abounds of carefhl rending and vigorous
thought. It is written throughout in a sus-
tained and nervous style; rising in appropriate
places into eloquence, rather through a disci-
plined taste and deep earnestness of feeling
than a poetical imagination. As laudably free
from scholastic subtleties and minute criti-
cisms, we can urge the perusal of it upon our
friends, with the certainty that they will rise
from it, as we have done, with pleasure and
sat istattion. _ .

The form of addresses from the pulpit—
didactic mid disconnected—is scarcely that
most suited to the discussion of a subject like
the present, complex as it is and beset with
speculative difficulties. One advantage, how-
ever, which this method presents over the
more systematie fonn ot'a treatise, Mr. Thomson
has not failed to take advantage of, viz., to
vary his arguments with many sound and
timely reflections upon the practical bearing
anti spiritual results of the great truths which
he is presenting to his hearers. We conclude
with a passage of this kind, which refers to the
chilling effects of the new Pyrrhonism spread-
ing amongst us of late from abroad :
A criticism lis loni; been at w“Tk upon the Onapele
which will 'wither fullvw Christ n. r fursaliv hitu, whi‘la

SATURDAY,

professes to found religion on the Bible, yet transforms
every historical fact w►itten there which deals with such
topics as the salvation of men through the blood of Jesus
with a colder spirit and temper than a Kepler carried eveu
into the calm regions of astronomy. When we hear that
Christ's teaching about his death was bat an afterthought,
or that his miracles, discourses, agony, and resurrection
never in fact took place at all, are we nut justified in
warning all to choose between It humble acceptance of our
Lord's tea. hug as to himself, and a total avoidance of the
subject ? For when we have walked with irreverent feet
in that holy temple which to many millions of hearts
Christianity has been and yet shall be ; when we hare
thrown down its altar, and set there the abomination of
desolation ; when we have taken away Christ from it, and
left in his stead a mistaken man, compared with whom
Mohammed was truthful and accurate, or an idea which
might as well have taken Apollonius or ~curates for its
historical gn,und as our blessed Lord, perchance a deeper
and more reverent view of it may dawn on us afterwards,
when the needs of our heart are greater and the pride of
our ingenuity less; and we shall bitterly regret that we
did not pass by in silence that which we could not credit ;
that we hardened our hearts, and confounded the faith of
others, in trying to find under the words of Coal things
not written there.—p.

The Correspondence i!f Thomas Gray and William
Maxon ; to which are added Sonic Letters
addressed by Gray to the Rev. James Brown,
D.D., Master of Pembroke ('ollege, Cambridye.
With Notes and illustrations by the Rev.
John Mitford, Vicar of Benhall. London :
Bentley.
This collection of letters is supplementary to
that already published in Mason's edition of
Gray's works, consisting of all those docu-
ments which prudence, or delicacy to persons
then living, or the necessity of confining his
publication within narrow limits, induced the
earlier editor to omit. For such suppression
on Mason's part there were sufficient reasons.
Many of the letters contain comments, much
more free than courteous, on the leading pub-
lic characters of the time, sonic of whom sur-
vived Gray for many years. J)thers refer to
the private and literary affairs of' his friend, and
could not be given to the world under the
sanction of that friend without incurring a
just imputation of egotism. Gray's own elm
meter, like that of Mason, was reserved and
fastidious : no nian would have deprecated
mom earnestly the notion of having his confi-
dential correspondence exposed to all eyes.
Such unreserved disclosure., moreover, were
not then the Melton ; nor had Gray, as a poet,
attained the full measure of his subsequent
popularity. Hence, though at first sight some
prejudice may exist against a work put toge-
ther wholly out of the rejected materials of a
former publishing enterprise, there is really,
on consideration, no ground for objection on
that score. The letters are, in style and sub-
stance, not unlike those already in our hands—
easy, familiar, passing from topic to topic with
a very pleasing discursiveness, occasionally
epigrammatic in their satire, and always, so
far as we can see. bond fide what they profess
to be, confidential communications between
intimate friends, not dissertations intended
for posthumous disclosures. In this respect
the celebrated men of a century ago had an
advantage over their successors. No author
of note can now put pen to paper without an-
ticipating, however little he may desire, the
possible publication of his correspondence
after death ; and it cannot be but that this
consciousness should react unfavourably upon
him, if it does not induce him (as we know it
has induced some) to confine his letter-writing
to the most necessary occasions and common-
place subjects.
There is nothing in the volume before us
(which, we repeat, is essentially of a supple-
mentary character) whence fresh light is
thrown on the private character of Gray. The
poet's jealousy not only of his own literary
reputation, but also of that of his friends, is
testified by the minute and unsparing criti-
cisms with which he visits the MSS. of Mason
—criticisms under which the latter, though
profiting by, and taking them in good part,
seems now and then to have winced. Some-
thing, too, appears of that overstrained sensi-
tiveness which during all his life tormented
the academic recluse, and which hindered him
from taking a doctor's degree, lest he should
thereby be confounded with another Gray, the
dull though laborious editor of " Hudibras."
But on the whole this collection so closely

NOVEMBER 12, 1853.

resembles the earlier one, that the two might
with advantage be incorporated iu a single
work. Indeed the letters now published.
being scattered over an interval Of eighteen
years, and fragmentary from the omission of
all that was already before the world, leave
behind a disagreeable sense of incomplete-
ness. There is no prefatory memoir prefixed,
except the imperfect fragment by liontee*Wal-
pole. The notes are ample. though not always
accurate, as witness the notice of one Mr. Gos-
hawk, of Cambridge, who is deseribed as hav-
in been "oh senior wrangler" in 1747.
By this publication the first editor is eon-
victed of cortaiu grave derelictions of duty.
such 11t4 improving passages of his author.
suppressing halt' a letter and transferring the
other half to the next, connecting the two by
an interpolated sentence: and other like free-
doms. Of Mason's own letters a few are given
which might be very advantageously left out.
being heavy in style, and wholly without in-
terest. _

We subjoin two specimens of Gray's writing,
as it appears in this volume. The first relates
to the laureateship :

TO THE RE% . WILLIAM MAst)N.

live. 19, Mt
Dear 3lason,—Though I very well know the bland emol-
lient saponaceuus qualities both of sack and silver, yet if
any great man would say to me, " I make you rateateher
to his Majesty, with a salary of :1001. a year and two butts
of the best malaga. and though it has been list'sl to catch
a mouse or two. for form's sake, in public once a year, yet
to you, air. Wt. shall not stand upon these things," I edit,
not say 1 should jump at it : nay, if they would drop the
very name of the office, and eall me sineeum to the King's
Majesty, I should still feel it little awkward, and think
tleiy body I saw smelt a rat about me; but I do not
pretend to Mane any our else that has not the same sen-
sations: for my .at I would rather be sergeant trumpeter
or pinmaker to the palace. Nevertheless I interest myself
it little in the history of it, and rather wish somebody may
accept it that will retrieve the credit of the thing, it' it be
retrievable, or ever had any eredit. Rowe was, 1 think,
the last moan of charm-ter that had it. As to Settle, whom
yon mention, he belonged to my I.ord Mayor, not to the
king. Eustleu was a person of great hopes in his youth,
though at last he turned out a drunken parson. 1 oryolen
WAS as disgraceful to the edits., from his character, as the
Istorest scribbler could have been from his verses.
office itself has always humbled the professor hitherto
(even in an age when kings were somebody ), if he wire a
poor writer by making Trim more conspicuous, and if he
were a good one by setting hint at war with the little fry of
his own profession, for there are poets enough to
cosy vsets a of
laureat.
Letters of condolence arc usually lxypoeriti-
cal, or formal, or both, and, even it' they ho
otherwise, yet on topics which are common to
all humanity novelty either of expression or of
thought is well-nigh impossible. The follow-
ing, however, has something of classical beauty
and pathos :

TO RICOARD STONEFIEWER, Dt.101.131.
(By Caxton Itag.)
Cambridge, Nov. ^_, 1789.
My dear Sir,--I am sincerely pleased with every mark
of your kindness. and as such 1 look upon your last letter
in particular. 1 feel jut the sorrow you have felt. and yet
I cannot wish to lessen it : that would be to rob yell of the
best part of your nature, to efface from your mind the ten.
der memory of a lather's love, and derive the dead of that
just and grateful tribute which his goodness demanded
from you.
I must. however, remind you how happy it was for him
that you were with him to the last : that he was sensible,
perhaps, of your care, when every other sense was vanish.
big. Ile might have lost you the last ym.ar, might have
seen you go before him, at a time when all the ills of help-
less old age were coining upon him, and, though not de..ti•
tnte of the attention and tenderness of others, yet destitute
of yuur attention and MMIr tenderness. Nay God preeerve
you, my best friend. and, long alter my eyes are dosed,
give you that last satisfaction in the gratitude anti affec-
tion of a son, which you have given your father.
I am ever most truly and entirely yours,
T. G.

Mesnoireg et Correspondanee Politique et Min-
Fairy, du Rol Joseph. (Memoirs and Political
and Military Coy-respondence of King
Joseph.) By A. du Casse. Paris: Perratin.
M. nu CAssE, the editor of the voluminous
papers of King Joseph, is aide-de-camp to
Prince Jerome Napoleon, and is known us a
wiiter on military matters. Joseph Bonaparte,
the elder brother of Napoleon 1., spent a con
'iderable portion of his life in collecting
materials for his own personal history, and
M. du Casse tells us in his introduction that
the present publication will probably occupy
volumes. We have only the two fiat
now before us, and they are very uninterest-
ing,. being little more than the dry official
ocument s relating to scents and transactions

THE PRESS.

on whose historical facts there is searcely any
colitroversy.
There are n few portions of Napoleon's
letters in the first volume which derive some
interest from the independent tame of their
strictures on French society. In his early
eorrespondenco with Joseph he repeatedly
refers to the volatility and love of pleasure
peculiar to the Parisians. Napoleon seems to
have been very much struck at the rapidity
with which the French mind forgot the events
Of the reigu of temar, anal the careless ease
with which society in the French capital again
embarked in dissipation. lie constantly
fees to the extraordinary power of wuttuut
at Paris. In one liblee lie Olisell'es that it
woman ought to have six months of lift' there,
in order to learn the respect with which she
should he treated ! In some of his letters he
writes like it fatalist, and assumes at tone of
indifferenee ; but, with something of reality,
there is a great deal also of affectation in thew
portions of his letters.
Thu second of these volumes brings' the
eormspondence of King ,Toseph to the end of
Isllll. In the more advanced portions of this
work we shall probably find some passages re-
quiring an examination in detail.

Smile Mow. An Histoticatl Roonittee of the

Time of George I. By Adillestone 11111.

London : Routledge and Co.
NoNE but a noviee in the art of novel-writing
would continence a fiction with the folh•w-
ing passage, which destmys the illusion of a
reader:—

On the th side of Leieestemitmare, where Miss
Linwood 's eelelorated needlework was exhibited for so many
wars, and where the " Mysterious Lady " and " Madame
Warton afterwards perplexed the credulous, or gl at Rica
the potligate—where cockney sportsmen resort to loeeome
'•doad shots," and the thineeloving Alumni and milliner
to indulge their tastes in the polka and waltz. stood Smile
House. ereetial he the witty and satirical baronet of that
mum', in the reign of Charles 11. In the year 17141 it
was the town residence of the Honourable Frances Fleet.
WINA, daughter of Lord lierartl, of Bromley Ball, in
Staffordshire, and widow of the opulent "'Thomas Fleet-
wood, tot' Nlartin Similes, in the county of Cheater, Elul."

The nau►es of " Miss Linwood," " the Mys-
terious Lady," and " Madame Warton "—so
inaptly introduced—herald iu the uann►enoe-
n►ent of a tale in eve►y l►mo of which we are
reminded of the mechan►sm of the Minerva
Press school of fiction. " Savile !louse"
attempts to present a story of the domestic
affections, and to give at the same tune a
iiieture of the reigr► of the first of the Ueor•ges.
The writer's power is not equal to either ]►or-
tion of his subject. There is not the colour
of the age impressed either upon the style of
the composition or upon the characters de-
scribed ; and the plot is of the kind or
employed by what may be called the Surrey
drama school of fictionnits. We have a sneak.
ing villain, taken from the class of mercenary
apostates, whose designs against the happi-
ness of an old English family n►ake a principal
Dart of the story of " Savile House." By
extracting a portion of one of its most
" spirited " scenes, our readers will have a
taste of the style of the writer. The following
passage will recal to thou► Malty others about
" cruel, unnatural fathers" and undutiful
daughters :

" What is your misery compared to mine ?" returned
Nladeline. " Better to dip a degnuled death that, live a
,blabilied life. My fate will be far more pitiable than yours.
furl have no hope in t ital-1111 trust in man !
In vain did Ilitchnnaigh enilemour to soothe or threaten
her Mut silence. She adhered to her resolution, and in•
formed him that she should at once seek the presence of
Ali's. Fleetwood, and implore her pardon, fur the deeeption
she had involutitanly practised on her ; and then she added,
" I will leave this hornse fur eser. You can $(1) your way
ill the world, and I will go 11l ille ; for we, though father
and daughter we be, call never breathe one atmosphere,
and live together."
" Ungrateful girl!" exclaimed Il awls ; " KIP you
determined om •our ruin, and uu nine'? (Mee 1114011:, I
beseech you pause. I have done all, dared all, fur you. It
is your aggrandizement alone that I have sought, not mine.
For you I have amassed wealth ; for you I have steeped
my soul in perjury : for I entild not hear to leave my vial
Beggar. Think, think before you act so rashly : remember.
I am your father."
'• A most cruel and unnatural one. As soon would Ibe
kindred with the ileeeithil hyena as with a goalksa man
like you. lhi not attempt to hinder me, for I will parr
out." _ _

Go, then, said Ilitchruotwh. " •n 1 pulalish all you
know. Then beg, btarre, or the, for such must be your
fate."

" N.,: ' rt pli. I Jlsdeliue, asultinety. " I /than nut atarvlr.
I .1111 %.111144. and, thank !leaven, I arm brauukal. Eat*
cattuttt erin.l,l nor ailtvi•sity diaaflll umi. I lure a heart of
and a hririt that can brace--defy the *ibis's& storm !"
thi4. she hung open the door, eniaseil a anis!d
corridor. anti the relit moment 'shawl before Mrs. rivet-
thhi. 'ler tit:lire was drawn up to its *idlest height : her
features Wert. 11111111110 d with passion the 011415 of her
tituk acredilated to %Inite their usual rise. and
%cornett lit hettil forth apatite of eleetrie tire. A antile, half
%.'ol.llfiki. half aglillitetl, hovered round her mouth; and her
'bosom heaved like the waves of an angry sea. With one
hand alit' pressed upon it. as if to keep the ti 1111 l ilt down :
a ith the tither aloe !Named to llitelii 11111 l gli, wipo! in spite Ot
Iris Clldt•tl% our to he eoluivoiked, ..t.iod coati Mg sod ltrmhli►yl
with impotent rage behind her.

Amongst the historical character,' intro.
thleeli Are tieorge 1.. the Duke of Wharton.
and Ilaolatile But, as Mho;
I.inwood would titlY. they uru Silieheli into tho
eouiposition, rather than artistically painted.
Sarile !louse " may thus not inaptly Le ealle4l
l'eelinen of lihniry tapestry, without bril-
liancy of colour or originality of design, and
presenting little to praimo but, the meelumical
regularity of its needlework.

A Peep fit the Pixies : or, Legends ell the West.
By Mrs. Bray. London : Brant and Grit
fith.
MISS .1 NOW CAROLINE Dvvtus, who has the
good fortune to possess an SIMI in 'Mrs. Bray,
having exprossed a wish (hut that lady " would
write a book " for "little people like herself,"
this volume—dedicated to her—is the result.
It opens with a vivid description of Dartmoor
—its hills and sparkling streams—the treeless
waste broken by the solitary rocks. and those
other rocks which, called tors, are piled fantas-
tically iu heaps, and resemble ruined SI
holds built and wrecked in giituts' wars—
the lielteum of many colours—the moss covered
with scarlet dowers from which the dye for
woollen cloths is made—" the pale yellow but-
" terfly sportin on the front of some old
" grey rock, or settling, on the wild thyme or
" the golden furze"—the song of the thrush—
the lark's triumphal chant—time mystic civvies
where the Druids of old performed strange
rites—the few stunted ivy-covered oaks sole
remnant of their sacred grove—the great
stones that mark the grave of a British chief
or king—the sudden mists that fall end wrap
the traveller round, and rise and vanish its
suddenly; and, to crown all, the author reveals
to US that on this great moor. wltere
" dl 111 lOuliulal iii,
aims sia.re Ilan gloat bliskle.. dung by their pitshitig
nitits dewly u•ii. asi grey ad lowly %MI,"
the genuine Pixies of the West have left some
of their most choice menowials.
" Pixy thithun" is the first tale. The time
is laid m the reign of James I. Trim Triekett.
an honest. tailor, and Betsy Hamming, together
with a black eat, are accused of having "a/-
wished," and thereby prematurely caused, the
death of a young neighbour of theirs who was
" bedridden, blind, deaf, and helpless," and
hail scarcely completed her ttoth year. Iles'
demise, under t hese eireumataneen, was deemed
so unaccountable that Trim, Betsy, and 'Tore
the eat were taken before the justice, who or-
dered the eat to be put into a bag, and decreed
that, unless Betsy in one month could spin
one hundred and forty pieces of thread so tine
that all could pass together through the eye of
Trim's needle, Trim should be burnt alive and
Iletsylinnged. Is not this enough to make the
"litUe folks" shudder ? Need we observe that the
danger increases up to the very last moment
of the last minute of the last hour of the last
day of the allotted time, end that then, when
time fire and the rope are ready, it astonish
ingly disappear'? How did this happen?
First we will " let the eat out of the bag,"
where she hail been kept without food one
month. tightly fastened up, and as she was
taken out dead this sufficiently established her
innocence, for it was held to prove that she
was only a mortal eat, and therefore not a
witch. Secondly, Trim had a good son. named
Johnny, who worked in amine. and Johnny
had a wicked master, who limed to beat him ;
and a good Pixie, called (intim'', told Johnny
that for every cuff he built 11-tut his master
without complaining he i Pixie Gallon) would
spin a thread fin- the needle. And he kept
his word. And Johnny was grateful, fur, oh-
serving that Gathon was naked, he offered to
get his father to make a pair of trousers for

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