A LETTER, &c.

I Would not thus have addreſs'd your Lordſhip in public, but that in theſe our days the preſs is the only method by which I could gain admiſſion to you, or have the opportunity, to uſe our old College phraſe, of a little CONFAB: Biſhops and Curates are, I believe, at preſent ſeldom ſeen together, except in the prayer for the Clergy. Fortune, my Lord, who brought us ſo cloſe to⯑gether at the Univerſity, where, you [2] may remember, we were Chums, has at length ‘Saevo laeta negotio,’ as the old bard ſings, in one of her ſtrange freaks, thrown us from the moſt intimate connection into ſtations of life at the utmoſt diſtance from each other, by making your Lordſhip a Biſhop, and me an—Aſſiſtant-Curate. I think, my Lord, I have ſomewhere read, that in the Roman Triumphs a perſon was always appointed to attend the Conqueror, and as he paſſed along to repeat to him—‘"Thou art a man."’ The following pages may be conſidered as a ſalutary hint of the ſame nature, and were only meant to lay on your Lordſhip's table, and as you ſlip on your lawn, to whiſper to you—‘"Thou art a Clergyman."’

[3] Tho' I do not (to uſe the phraſe of a certain Right Reverend) baſk in the Sun⯑ſhine of the Goſpel, you will perceive, nowithſtanding, in the courſe of this Letter, I am not ſo much hurt by diſ⯑appointments, but that I can laugh at a proper opportunity; at preſent, how⯑ever, I am perfectly ſerious, and do from my heart think and declare, that the leaſt grateful acknowledgement which our dignified clergy can make, for the honours and rewards conferred on them, is to aſſiſt their diſtreſſed brethren; to make uſe of their beſt endeavours to ſup⯑port the dignity of the miniſterial office: and to gain them ſome deference and reſpect, if they can, or will, procure them nothing elſe: and yet this, my Lord, I will not ſay wherefore, or by whom, is of late years, moſt ſhamefully neglected.

[4] Your Lordſhip, I am convinc'd by experience, is not without humanity; I have known ſome Biſhops, (formerly I mean) who had not a grain of it in their whole compoſition: but that is not your caſe; I have therefore taken the liberty to appeal to you, in behalf of the inferior clergy of theſe kingdoms, who, I believe, are the moſt diſtreſſed, deſerted, and deſpiſed body of men, at preſent, on the face of the earth: into the cauſes of this, I propoſe cooly and candidly to examine, and to conſult with your Lord⯑ſhip concerning the moſt probable me⯑thods of removing them.

I have a thouſand things to ſay to your Lordſhip, on this copious head, which I ſhall reſerve for ſome future occaſion, and for the ſake of method confine myſelf at preſent (tho' I hate confinement of every kind) to a particular branch of [5] our ſcanty revenue, commonly known by the name of LECTURESHIPS.

Your Lordſhip being much better ac⯑quainted with eccleſiaſtical hiſtory than myſelf, could probably acquaint me with the origin and riſe of theſe PAUPERTA⯑TIS SUBSIDIA: as I am not, however, very ambitious of tracing the ſource of this muddy ſpring, I ſhall defer the ſearch to another opportunity, and content my⯑ſelf with obſerving (a truth which I am every day more and more convinced of) that the eſtabliſhment of Lectureſhips in and about London has been extremely prejudicial to the inferior Clergy of this kingdom, and contributed, in a great meaſure, to bring upon the whole body that poverty and contempt into which they are now fallen; that the methods by which they are obtained are highly unbecoming our character, and the [6] means made uſe of to ſupport them in⯑adequate to the duty performed; that they are acquired, in ſhort, with diffi⯑culty, loſt with eaſe, and very few of them worth the keeping: which I will endeavour to prove to your Lordſhip in as few words as poſſible.

It may not, perhaps, be improper, when I talk of SERMONISERS, to follow the uſual SERMON method, and divide my ſubject into three or four general heads; and tho' I would not, as Lord Shaftſbury ſays, ‘"bring my two's and three's before a faſhionable congrega⯑tion,"’ yet, as I am talking only to your Lordſhip, and what paſſes may never go much further than ourſelves, I may as well adopt the TEXTUAL manner; (there, my Lord, is a new word for Johnſon's Dictionary).

[7] I ſhall proceed therefore,

FIRST,

To conſider how LECTURESHIPS are canvaſſed for.

SECONDLY,

What is expected from them. And

THIRDLY and LASTLY.

How they are paid, and what emo⯑luments uſually ariſe to the poſſeſſors of them.

Firſt therefore, my Lord, with regard to the canvaſſing for Lectureſhips, as uſually practiſed amongſt us, I will ven⯑ture to aſſert, it is an employment ut⯑terly inconſiſtent with the character, and unbecoming the dignity of a Cler⯑gyman, an office greatly beneath the attention of genius and learning, and [8] highly unſuitable to all the notions of life imbibed in the courſe of a genteel and liberal education.

The choice of a LECTURER in this metropolis is generally veſted in the whole body of the pariſh, conſiſting, for the moſt part, of ordinary tradeſmen, ſometimes very low mechanics, perſons not always of the moſt refined manners, or delicate ſenſations. Your Lordſhip, I am ſure, muſt remember, how cava⯑lierly, when we were at Cambridge, (for which by the by we deſerved to be horſe-whipped) we uſed to treat the CANAILLE: if an honeſt tradeſman came a dunning to our room of a morn⯑ing before Lecture, we tipped the NON DOMI upon him, or if by chance he gained admittance, and grew importu⯑nate in his ſolicitations, without further ceremony ſhewed him the neareſt way [9] down ſtairs. Little did ſome of us think what a different behaviour we ſhould one day be obliged to aſſume towards ſome of their illuſtrious brethren in this me⯑tropolis.

The common people, my Lord, in this kingdom of liberty, are of ſo com⯑buſtible a nature, that the leaſt point of diſpute blows them up into a flame: a conteſt about Church-wardens, the choice of a ſelect veſtry-man, or a paltry Lec⯑tureſhip ſhall ſet as many ſober citizens together by the ears as a County Elec⯑tion. To ſay the truth, there is now a days almoſt as much dirty work prac⯑tis'd in the Canvaſſing for one as for the other. The Parſon, as well as the Can⯑didate, muſt play over, if he hopes for Succeſs, all the little low tricks of bribing the indigent, flattering the proud, ca⯑joling the rich, abuſing and calumniating [10] his antagoniſt, buying, making, ſplitting, hiding votes; the whole catalogue, in ſhort, of Miniſterial Artifices muſt be practiſed in the veſtry with as little con⯑ſcience as on the Huſtings; and a Can⯑didate for St. A—'s Church has almoſt as much mire to wade through, as a Can⯑didate for St. S—'s Chapel.

But, as I have heard ſay in Weſtminſter-Hall, there is nothing like a CASE IN POINT; I will therefore treat your Lordſhip with one, to illuſtrate the ſub⯑ject under conſideration, and that caſe, to prevent any miſtakes, ſhall be—MY OWN.

Your Lordſhip I believe may remem⯑ber the time when my poor Uncle died, which obliged me to quit the Univerſity and ſeek my fortune in town, where I had not been above three weeks before [11] I ſtroll'd one Sunday afternoon into a Church in the City, and, after ſervice, heard the Clerk, by order of the Veſtry, declare the Lectureſhip of the pariſh va⯑cant, and invite the Clergy, however dignify'd or diſtinguiſh'd, to be Candidates for it, and to give in their names by the enſuing Sunday. No ſooner did I hear this CHURCH SERJEANT thus beating up for recruits, than I immediately re⯑ſolv'd to enliſt; and accordingly, the next day, waited on the worſhipful Sten⯑tor above-mention'd, who took down my name and place of abode: on my deſiring him at the ſame time to acquaint me with the beſt method of proceeding, which I was an utter ſtranger to, he adviſed me as a friend, to apply as ſpee⯑dily as poſſible, to Mr. — a Cheeſe⯑monger in — Lane, who was then firſt Church-warden, a leading man in the Veſtry, and a perſon, he aſſur'd me, [12] on whom the Election would in a great meaſure depend. I took honeſt AMEN'S advice, and by nine the next morning, not I muſt own without ſome reluctance, dreſſed myſelf as well as I could, and waited on Mr. Church-warden. As ſoon as he ſaw me enter the Shop in my Canonicals, (for I had hired an excellent new gown and caſſock behind St. Clement's on the occaſion) he made me a very low bow, gave me the title of Doctor, and imagining no doubt that I was come to beſpeak cheeſes for the coun⯑try, begg'd to know my honour's com⯑mands; to which I replied in an humble tone, and looking extremely diſconcerted, that I came to wait on him on account of the Lectureſhip of the pariſh, and begg'd the favor of his vote and intereſt, &c. Your Lordſhip I am ſure would have ſmiled to ſee the ſudden alteration of his features and behaviour: he dropp'd [13] all the tradeſman's obſequiouſneſs, and in a moment aſſumed the magiſterial air and dignity of a Church-warden; turn'd aſide to a woman who was juſt then aſking for a pound of Cheſhire, and without addreſſing himſelf to me, cry'd out, ‘"this is the fourth parſon I have had with me to-day on the ſame er⯑rand:"’ then, ſtaring me full in the face; ‘"well, young man, ſays he, you intend to be a Candidate for this ſame Lecture: you are all to mount the NOSTRUM, I ſuppoſe, and merit will carry it: for my part, I promiſe no⯑body, but remember I tell you before⯑hand, I am for voice and action, ſo mind your hits."’ When he had ſaid this, he immediately turn'd upon his heel, and went into the Counting-houſe. I took my leave in an awkward manner, as you may ſuppoſe, being not a little chagrin'd at his inſolence; and as I went [14] out of the ſhop, overheard his Lady ob⯑ſerving, from behind the counter, that I was a pretty SPRIG of DIVINITY, but look'd a little SHEEPISH, and had not half the courage of the gentleman that had been recommended to her huſband by MR. SQUINTUM.

The inſtant I quitted the ſign of the Che⯑ſhire-Cheeſe, I laid aſide all thoughts of further ſolicitation, and reſolved to return to college, and live on making Fellow-commoner's exerciſes, rather than ſub⯑ject myſelf any more to ſuch mortifying indignities. Good God! thought I to myſelf, is this the fruit of my ſtudies? this the reward of all my toil and labour in the univerſity? to have the important point, whether I ſhall eat or ſtarve, at laſt determin'd by a CHEESEMONGER, who declares for VOICE and ACTION!

[15] In ſpite, notwithſtanding, of this re⯑ſolution, (for reſolutions, your Lordſhip knows, are much eaſier made than kept) I was obliged in leſs than ſix months, having during that time taken it into my head to fall in love and marry, to repair once more to the great city, and put into the Eccleſiaſtical lottery; where, by the by, as in moſt other lotteries, you buy ſo dear, meet with ſo few prizes, and run ſo much hazard, that none but deſ⯑perado's ought to venture in them: there, my Lord, I renew'd my ſolicitations, and experienced all the miſeries and miſ⯑fortunes, all the inſults and indignities, which the pride and inſolence of the rich, both Laity and Clergy, inflict on their dependent brethren: the difficulties which I met with in ſearch of a Lecture⯑ſhip, for that was my Summum Bonum, are inconceivable; and I can aſſure your Lordſhip, that, trifling as the emolu⯑ments [16] are of this preferment, all the perfections of human nature united are ſcarce ſufficient to a man without perſo⯑nal intereſt, to inſure his ſucceſs. The variety of diſtreſſes which I encountered from the different tempers and diſpoſi⯑tions of the Gentlemen and Ladies (for ſo I was obliged to call them) who had votes in the pariſh, the mean and abject flattery which I was forc'd to make uſe of, with the many frequent affronts and diſappointments I underwent, would ſwell half a melancholy volume. With⯑out enumerating the neceſſary accom⯑pliſhments generally expected on theſe occaſions of drinking hard with the huſ⯑bands, and ſaying ſoft things to their wives; in more pariſhes than one, my Lord, where I have been a Candidate, to ſmoak your half dozen of pipes, and drink two bottles at a ſitting, are infi⯑nitely more neceſſary perfections than [17] any which you cou'd bring with you from the Univerſity; and it is a maxim with many good citizens, that unleſs you are what they call a d—d honeſt fel⯑low, you can never be a good preacher, or an Orthodox Divine; in ſhort, my Lord, and to be ſerious, unleſs a poor Clergyman is every thing that he ought not to be, he can never be what is every man's wiſh, independent.

I muſt not in this place forget to mention one rock which young Divines are perpetually ſplitting on in this voyage, and that is, Party: a Candidate muſt take great care how he repeats his poli⯑tical Creed; as, if he declares himſelf on one ſide, he will inevitably be op⯑poſed, ſlander'd and inſulted by the other; it behoves him therefore always to join with the ſtrongeſt: but, what is worſt of all, if he is of no ſide, (which [18] your Lordſhip well knows is the moſt prudent way,) it is a million to one if he is ſuffered to continue ſo.

I remember, my Lord, when I ſet up for the Lectureſhip of St. — the poli⯑tical Thermometer of the pariſh was very high; I had at that time, and retain to this moment, the utmoſt contempt for all parties; being ſatisfied, as every man of common underſtanding muſt be, that there is nothing but ſelf-intereſt at the bottom of them: it was very difficult however, I found, to perſuade other men that I was not as fooliſh as them⯑ſelves.

Mr. Alderman Grub, and Mr. De⯑puty Clove, the two leading men in the pariſh, were at that time, or at leaſt profeſſed to be, of oppoſite principles; the Alderman a ſtaunch Whig; the Deputy a reputed Tory; I waited on them both [19] for their votes and intereſt, the conſe⯑quence of which was that I ſucceded with neither, both reproaching me with being of a different way of thinking from themſelves. The Alderman was extremely ſorry he could not ſerve me: he had a regard, he had heard, he ad⯑mired, &c. but to be plain with me he was aſſured I had drank tea at the De⯑puty's: and when I went to the Deputy: for my part, (I ſhall never forget it, my Lord, to my dying day) ‘"for my part, (ſaid he) I am of no ſide, I deſpiſe all parties whatſomdever, but there are people whom ſome people can't like like other people: in ſhort, I ſhall always be glad to ſee you whilſt you are what you are; but remember, Mr. Parſon, if ever you dine with Alder⯑man Grub again—you underſtand me—your humble ſervant."’

[20] Theſe, my Lord, are but an incon⯑ſiderable part of the miſeries and indig⯑nities which a poor Parſon is ſure to encounter with on this occaſion, but half

For my own part, I cannot but think the very ſingle circumſtance of trapeſing about from door to door in one's Canonic⯑als, perhaps for a week, is ſufficient to deter any man who has the leaſt regard for cleanlineſs and decorum from can⯑vaſſing for a City Lectureſhip. There is not in nature a more ridiculous ſight than a draggletail Divine, holding up his ſpatter'd Sacerdotals, and dabbling thro' dirty ſtreets and blind alleys in ſearch of Civic preferment.

And now I am upon this head, my Lord, you muſt pardon me

[21]

But, to return to my ſubject, or, as we ſay every Sunday, to proceed to my ſecond head, and conſider

What is expected from Lecturers, and how they are generally treated when they become ſo. Let us now then ſup⯑poſe, that the poor Candidate, after going through all theſe fiery trials, ſhould at length be ſo fortunate as to make his calling and election ſure: behold him choſen, licenſed, and In-pulpited (there, my Lord, is another new word for you, and I ſee no reaſon why it is not as good as Inſtall'd) he will find that ſeat, or rather ſtanding of honor a ‘"painful pre-eminence;"’ for, as high as he may [27] there imagine himſelf, not a creature who ſits below but thinks himſelf far above him. Every man that gave you his vote will conſider you from that day forth, and as long as you continue in that ſituation, as his inferior: he looks upon himſelf as one of your feeders, to whom you are indebted for your daily bread, and therefore expects you will honor him accordingly, and for this ſpecial reaſon, becauſe if you withdraw your complaiſance, he may withdraw his—Subſcription. But let us attend a little to the precarious tenure on which he holds his new preferment. When a man is in peaceable poſſeſſion of a good living, ſcarce any body takes notice of his preaching. It matters very little whether he is as elegant as ^* — or [28] as contemptible as Dr. —. But with a Lecturer the caſe is extremely different; he is conſidered by his hearers as a kind of Divinity-cook, and is expected, like other cooks, to adapt every thing to every body's palate; and let him have ever ſo much merit, 'tis a hundred to one he does not pleaſe one in a hundred, for it is all whim and caprice. If he has a loud voice, perhaps he may be called a Brawler, he takes too much pains, labours, and ſo forth; if he is weak and low, he is cenſur'd as ſpiritleſs and inanimate; if his action is ſlow and ſolemn, he ſhall be termed liſtleſs and indolent; if it be ſtrong, and vary'd, it ſhall be called vehement and theatrical: for the poor judges he is talking to never conſider the different ſubjects to be treat⯑ed; that one may require ſober and com⯑poſed behaviour in the utterance, another lively, ſpirited, and diffuſed geſture.

[29] In moſt other profeſſions, thoſe who apply for your aid and inſtruction will at leaſt allow you ſome knowledge in your own buſineſs, and have complaiſance enough to ſuppoſe you have a tolerable idea of and acquaintance with the matter of it; but in Divinity it is quite other⯑wiſe: every Auditor in a church is as good a judge (or at leaſt thinks himſelf ſo) both of the ſubject, and the manner of treating it, as yourſelf, and will not fail to ſhew his judgment with regard to ſtile, ſentiment, and delivery, though he knows no more of either than the deſk you write upon.

They will tell you the Sermon you preached was borrowed from another when it is really your own, and, vice verſâ, compliment you upon it as your own, when it is every word of it ſtolen from another.

[30] The following, my Lord, is a fact which happened to myſelf.

Being engaged one whole week in writing an anſwer to a political Pamphlet againſt the D— of N— for which I had twenty pieces (more, by the by, than I got by preaching in a twelve-month) I ventured on the Saturday night to tranſcribe a diſcourſe of Tillotſon's, and preached it on the Sunday morning to a very polite audience: on my coming out of church, I was ſaluted by one of the Overſeers with—‘"thank you, Doc⯑tor, for your excellent Sermon; but let me tell you 'twas a dangerous topic for a young man; to be ſure you might have treated it a little more fully (obſerve his complaiſance) but upon the whole it was really a good diſcourſe, and I am ſure all your own; but I remember a glorious one of [31] Tillotſon's on that very ſubject. I re⯑member—that you do not indeed, my friend, replied I, (I could not help it, my Lord, for the life of me) for the ſermon you juſt now heard is the very ſame, word for word, I aſſure you, and you will find it when you go home, Vol. and page—ſo and ſo."’

But let a man preach his own ſermons, or any body's elſe, he can never expect to pleaſe for any length of time; I have ſcarce ever known a Lecturer continue a favourite above two or three years: if he always preaches himſelf he grows tire⯑ſome, and if he puts in another he is cenſured as idle and negligent: if his Deputy preaches better, or which is the ſame thing, appears to preach better than himſelf, it ſinks the principal into con⯑tempt; and if the Deputy does not preach ſo well, hints are given him that it [32] would be better if ſome folks would do their own duty; add to this that, your conſtant Church-trotters and Text⯑markers, who take down the heads in their pocket-books, are always ſmoaking your ſtale divinity, and expect a new diſcourſe to tickle their ears every Sun⯑day. We can ſee the ſame play at the theatre, hear the ſame ſtory abroad, or read the ſame book at home, perhaps once in a month at leaſt, with pleaſure; but to liſten to the ſame diſcourſe from a pulpit once in three years, though per⯑haps we do not actually remember a line more than the text, is, for what reaſon I know not, moſt intolerable.

I am as throughly convinced as I am of my own Exiſtence that Lectureſhips greatly promote and increaſe Methodiſm. A deſire of ſtriking out ſomething new and uncommon to tickle the ears of [33] the Groundlings has led many a plain well-meaning preacher into romantic ſallies, and theatrical geſtures, and in⯑ſenſibly drawn them into methodiſtical rant and enthuſiaſm.

There never was a duller hound than that ^* hound of King's, whom your Lord⯑ſhip muſt remember as well as myſelf, the famous Mr. Jones of St. Saviour's: he had preached for ſome time in the old Dog-trot ſtile of Firſt to the Firſt, Secondly to the Second, and adminſter'd his gentle ſoporifics to no purpoſe for a year or two, when, finding it would not do, all on a ſudden he ſhook his ears, ſet up a loud bark, and by mere dint of noiſe, vociferation, and grimace, mouth'd [34] and bellow'd himſelf into reputation amongſt the gentlemen of the Clink, out-heroded Herod, and almoſt eclips'd the fame of Weſley, Whitfield, and Madan.

I ſhall now proceed, my Lord, (to ſpeak in the Parſonic ſtile) to my third general head, viz. the manner in which Lectureſhips are uſually paid, which is equally injurious to our character and function.

I know a little too much of the world, my Lord, to expect that a Parſon ſhould be paid like a Firſt-rate Player, a Pimp, or a Lord of the Treaſury, whoſe incomes I believe are pretty near equal; but at the ſame time cannot help thinking, that a labourer in the Vineyard is as well worthy of his hire, as a Journeyman Carpenter, Maſon, &c. and has as good [35] a right to two pound two on a Sunday as he has on a Saturday night; and yet not one in a hundred of us is paid in that proportion.

The Lecturer's box generally goes about with the reſt of the pariſh Beggars a little after Chriſtmas; and every body throws in their charity, (for it is always conſidered in that light) as they think proper. Were I to tell your Lordſhip how many paltry excuſes are made to evade this little annual tribute by the mean and ſordid, how very little is given even by the moſt generous, and what an inconſiderable ſum the whole generally amounts to, the recital would not afford you much entertainment, and, for aught I know might even give you ſome ſmall concern.

[36] You cannot imagine, my Lord, with what an envious eye we poor Lecturers have often looked over a Waiter's book at a Coffee-houſe, where I have ſeen ſuch a collection of guineas and half guineas as made my mouth water: to give leſs than a crown at leaſt, would be to the laſt degree ungenteel, for the immenſe trouble of handing a diſh of coffee, or a news⯑paper; whilſt the poor Divine, who has toil'd in the Miniſtry for a Twelve⯑month, and half worn out a pair of ex⯑cellent lungs in the unprofitable ſervice, ſhall think himſelf well rewarded with the noble donation of half a crown.

But to illuſtrate my ſubject, I will give your Lordſhip another ſtory: there is nothing like a little painting from the life on theſe occaſions: ſuppoſe yourſelf then, my Lord, an eye-witneſs of the [37] following ſcene, which paſſed not long ſince in a certain part of this Metro⯑polis.

Enter the Church-warden and Over⯑ſeer into the ſhop of Mr. Prim the Mer⯑cer—Well, Mr. Twiſt, what are your commands with me?—we are come to wait on your honor with the Lecturer's⯑book, Sir,—a voluntary ſubſcription of the inhabitants of the pariſh of St — for the ſupport of—well, well, you need not read any further: what is it?—whatever you pleaſe, Sir,—Aye, here's another load, another burthen: d'ye think I am made of gold? there's the poor's rate, the doctor's rate, the window rates, the devil's in the rates I think—however, I can't refuſe you; but I'll not give another year—here, Buckram, reach me half a crown out of the till—your Servant, Madam.—

Aye, there's another tax—a guinea for two box tickets, as ſure as the benefit comes round, for my wife and daughter, beſides chair-hire.

O maſter Prim, maſter Prim! had not you better now have given us a guinea for the Doctor and his four children, and reſerved your half crown for the Lady, who, if I may judge from her garb and equipage, does not want it half ſo much as the poor Parſon; but you will be in the faſhion, ſo give us your mite; ſet down, Mr. Prim two and ſixpence,—Sir, good morrow to you—gentlemen, your ſervant,—

Such, my Lord, you ſee, is the force of faſhion, and ſuch the influence of ex⯑ample, [39] that a conſtant Church-goer, and one perhaps who fancies himſelf a very good Chriſtian, ſhall throw away one pound one with all the pleaſure ima⯑ginable for an evening's entertainment at the theatre, and at the ſame time grudge half a crown for two and fifty diſcourſes from the pulpit, which, if he turns to his arithmetic book, he will ſee amounts to about—three farthings a ſermon—and a ſober Citizen too, as Lady Townly ſays, fye! fye!

Theſe, my Lord, are melancholy truths, and, though you and I who are philoſophers may laugh at them, have made many an honeſt man's heart ake.

I will leave your Lordſhip to imagine, without entering any further into this ſubject, what the great and deſireable emoluments muſt be ariſing from a [40] Town-Lectureſhip: hardly equal at the beſt to the wages of a Journeyman Stay⯑maker, and by no means upon a level with the profits of drawers, coffee-houſe waiters, or the footmen of our nobility. This very lucrative employment, not⯑withſtanding, as being too conſiderable for one man, is frequently ſplit in two and divided, like the places of Poſt⯑maſter General, Secretary, &c. amongſt the great. I have myſelf the honor, my Lord, of being what is called a Joint-Lecturer, not having intereſt enough in the pariſh, where I had been Curate for twenty years, to ſecure the whole. I cannot indeed ſo far agree with our old friend Heſiod as to think ^* the half better than the whole, but, em⯑bracing the ^† Engliſh inſtead of the [41] Greek proverb, ſit myſelf down con⯑tentedly, and eat my half loaf in quiet. But, to confeſs the truth, I find the profits of both preferments (for your Lordſhip ſees I am a pluraliſt) rather too ſmall, to provide, in theſe hard times, for the ne⯑ceſſities of a growing family, and have lately been obliged to eke out matters by entering myſelf on my friend H—w's liſt. As there is ſomething curious in this Mr. H—, both with regard to himſelf, and the buſineſs he is engaged in, I ſhall beg leave to introduce him to your Lordſhip's acquaintance, as I be⯑lieve, during what I may call your mi⯑nority in the Church, no ſuch character or occupation was in being.

You muſt know then, my Lord, that the ingenious Mr. H— has found out a new method of being ſerviceable to the Clergy and himſelf, by keeping a [42] kind of Eccleſia [...]ical Regiſter-office, or, more properly ſpeaking, a Divinity-ſhop, in the city, where Parſons are hired by the day, week, month, &c. as occaſion requires. For this purpoſe he keeps a regular alphabetical liſt of unemploy'd Divines, from the age of threeſcore and ten, to two and twenty, ready to be let out for certain ſtipulated ſums, deduct⯑ing a proper premium for the agent from every one of them. If any labouring Curate, Lecturer, Morning-preacher, &c. is too buſy or too idle to perform his own duty, he may immediately repair to the ſaid office, and be ſupplied with as much ſound and orthodox divinity as he is able or willing to pay for. To this very uſeful Gentleman, I had myſelf, not long ſince, occaſion to apply, being obliged to leave my Church for a fort⯑night; when the following converſation, as near as I can remember, paſs'd be⯑tween [43] us; if it does not make you ſmile, I can only ſay, your Lordſhip's riſible, muſcles are not ſo pliant as they uſed to be.

Mr. H— your Servant.

Doctor, your's.

I ſuppoſe, Mr. H—, you can gueſs my errand; I am going out of town to-mor⯑row, and ſhall want a ſupply, and withal, maſter H—, I come to inform you, I ſhall commence from this day both agent and patient, and intend to hire and to be hired: ſo, as I am likely to be a pretty conſtant dealer, and am beſides an old acquaintance, hope you will give me the turn of the ſcale: ſo put me down in your liſt immediately.

It ſhall be done, Sir: and a moſt re⯑ſpectable [44] liſt it is, I aſſure you; I have juſt got a freſh cargo of Scotch Divines piping hot from Edinburgh; beſides the old corps—my collection ends with—let me ſee—fourteen School-maſters, five Doctors of Divinity, (pray, my Lord, mind the Climax) two Reviewers, three political writers, two bible-makers, and a K—'s C—n.

All men of erudition, I ſuppoſe.

Excellent ſcholars, and charming preach⯑ers, I aſſure you; but, entre nous, not one of them worth ſixpence in the world—but to your buſineſs.

Aye, Mr. H—, I muſt have a good voice for Wedneſdays and Fridays, and one of your beſt Orators for Sunday next: you know, my congregation is a little delicate.

Aye; more nice than wiſe perhaps—but let us look ſharp—here's Parſon Rawbones, one of my, Athletic, able-bodied divines, it is not long ſince he knock'd down a clerk in the deſk for interrupting him in the middle of a prayer; this, you know, ſhew'd a good ſpirit, and keeps up the dignity of the cloth: but I doubt whether he'll do for you; for he's a North-country man, and has got the Burr in his throat; he'll never paſs at your end of the town, I ſhall ſport him, however, at a Day⯑lecture, or an early Sacrament.

You are ſo facetious Mr. H—, but pray find me out ſomebody, for I am in haſte.

If you had wanted a brawler for a charity ſermon, I could have help'd you to the beſt beggar in England, an arrant pick⯑pocket [46] for the Middle iſle; beats your D—'s and W—'s out of the pit: a Doctor of Divinity too, and a Juſtice of peace; but he wont do for you, for the dog's over head and ears in debt, and durſt not ſtir out on a week-day for fear of the Bum-bailiffs; but ſtay—here I have him for you—the quickeſt reader in England: I'll bet my Stackhouſe's bible to a common-prayer book, he gives Dr. Drawl to the Te-Deum, and over⯑takes him before he comes to the Thankſ⯑giving! O, he's a rare hand at a Collect: but, remember, if he preaches, you muſt furniſh him with the Paraphernalia; for he's but juſt got upon the liſt, and has not money enough yet to purchaſe Canonicals.

O, we can equip him with them, but what's his price?

Why, you would not offer him leſs [47] than—for the ſake of your brethren, for your own ſake. Let me tell you, Sir, I am one of the beſt friends to the in⯑ferior Clergy, and have done more for them, (and that's a bold word,) than the whole bench of B—p's. I believe I may ſafely ſay, I have rais'd the price of Lungs at leaſt Cent per Cent: I knew the time, and ſo did you, when a well caſſock'd Divine was glad to read prayers, and on a holiday too, for twelve-pence; Old C— never had more in his life: now, Sir, I never let a tit go out of my ſtable, (you'll pardon my jocularity) under five ſhillings.—

My friend H— was running on in this unmerciful manner, and would, for aught I know, have talk'd to this time, if I had not ſtopp'd him ſhort, pretended immediate buſineſs, paid my earneſt, [48] and took my leave: not a little chagrin'd, you may imagine, at the contemptuous kindneſs he expreſs'd for the cloth, and the degrading familiarity with which he treated that function to which your Lord⯑ſhip, equally with myſelf, has the honor to belong.

To ſay the truth—But this muſt be deferr'd, with many other conſidera⯑tions, to another letter; my wife having juſt now broke into my ſtudy to remind me, that I have a ſermon to finiſh before ten to-morrow, which will ſcarce give me time to ſubſcribe myſelf,