The History of 
 
 MR. FAN TOM 
 
 s 
 
 THE 
 
 NEW-FASHIONED PHILOSOPHER 
 
 and 
 
 HIS' MAN WILLIAM, 
 
 _ Sold ey HOWARD and E- ANS. 
 
 J. HA CHARD N 4 * , Lo ^-Lane, Wcst-Smithfie^ana 
 HAZARD, f' a ^'h?°u P p CC r 1,! ! y ' Lor,do "- «y S. 
 
 V Great Allowance *M be made t£) ^ - 
 
 /V/p Three Halfpence. 
 
 t Entered at Stationers Hall. J 
 
THE HISTORY, &c. 
 
 MR. FANTOM was a retail trader in the city: 
 of London. As he had no turn to any ex- 
 pensive vices, he was reckoned a sober decent man, 
 he was covetous and proud, selfish, and con- 
 ceited. As soon ^s he got forward in the world, 
 his vanity began to display itself, but not in the or- 
 dinary method of making a figure and living away; 
 butstill he was tormented with a longing desire to 
 draw public notice, and to distinguish himself. He 
 felt a general sense of discontent at what he was, 
 with a general ambition to be something which he_ 
 was not; but this desire had not yet turned itself 
 to any particular object. It was not by his money 
 he could hope to be distinguished, for half his ac- 
 quaintance had more, and a man must be rich in- 
 deed, to be noted for his riches in London. Mr. 
 Fan torn 's mind was a prey to vain imaginations.— 
 He despised all those little acts of kindness and 
 charity which every man is called tc perform every 
 day, and while he was contriving grand schemes 
 which lay quite out of his reach/ he neglected the 
 
 ordinary duties of life, which lay directly before 
 him. • J 
 
 About this time he got hold of a famous little 
 book, written by the new philosopher, whose pes- 
 JJJt docmnes found a ready entrance into Mr. 
 rantom s mind; a mind at once shallow arrti inqui- 
 speculative, and vain, ambitious and'dis- 
 
 A 2 
 
( 4 ) 
 
 satisfied As almost every book was new to hii 
 he fel into the cannon error of those who be^ir, 
 read late in life, that of thinking that what he! 
 not know himself was equaly new to others; aj 
 he was apt to fancy that he and the author he d 
 reading were the only two people in the world 4 
 knew any thing. This hook led to the grand 4 
 covery; he had now found what his heart had pant 
 aftefi a way to distinguish himself. To start out 
 full grown philosopher at once, to be wise witho 
 education, to dispute wi h ut learning, and to m., 
 proselytes without argument, was a shortcut! 
 fame, which well suited his vanity and his ignoran 
 He rejoiced that he had been so clever as to q 
 mine for himself, pittied his friends who took th in 
 upon trust, and was resolved to assert the fi 
 of his own mind. To a man fond of bold novelit: 
 and daring paradoxes, solid argument would be 
 and truth would be dull, merely because it is 
 new. Mr. Fantom, believed not in proportioo 
 the strengt h of the evidence, but to the impudfl 
 pi the assertion. The trampling on holy grffl 
 with dirty shoes, the smeareiog the sanctuary 
 {fjjjth and mire, the calling prophets and* apostle 
 the most scurrilous names was new, and dai 
 and dazzling, Mr. Fantom now being set freeii 
 v the chains of slavery and superstition, wasresoi 
 to m\ow his zeal in the usual way, by trying to 
 others, but. it would have hurt his vanity W 
 known that he was the convert of a .man who 
 written only for the vulgar, who had inventd 
 thing; no, not even one idea of original wicked 
 but who had stooped to rake up out of the to 
 of infidellity, all the loathsome dregs W 
 dirt, which politer unbelievers had thrown 
 
( $ ) 
 
 as too gross and offensive for their better-bread 
 
 ^Ivlr Fantom, who considered that a philosopher 
 must set up with a Utile sort of a stock in trade, iow 
 picked up all the common-place notions aaainst 
 Christianity, which have been answered a hundred 
 times over; these he kept by him ready cut and 
 dried, and brought out in all companies, with a zeal 
 which would have done honour to a better cause, 
 bitt which the friends to a better cause are not 
 so apt tp discover. He soon got all the cant of the 
 n^w school. He talked of 'narrowness/ and ' ig- 
 norance', and ' bigotry', and ' prejudice/ and ' priest- 
 craft,' on the one hand; and on the ether of 'pub- 
 ^■good',the Move of mankind', and 4 liberality', and 
 'candour', and ' toleration',, and above all, ' benevo- 
 lence'. Benevolence, he said, made up the whole of 
 religion, and all the other parts of it were nothing 
 but cant and jargon, and hypocrisy. Finding, how- 
 ever, that he made little impression on his old club, 
 at the Cat and Bagpipes, he grew tired of their com- 
 pany, yet ihere was one member whose society he 
 could not resolve to give uo, though they seldom- 
 agreed, as im\ped no two men in the same class and 
 habits of life could less resemble each other. Mr. 
 Truemanwas an honest plain, and simple-hearted 
 tradesman of the good old cue, who feared God and 
 followed .is business, he went to church twice on 
 Sundays, and minded his shop all the week, spent 
 frugally, gave liberally, and saved moderately. 
 ,r Mr. Fantom resolved to retire for a while into 
 the country, and devote his time to his new plans, 
 ^cnemes, theories, and projects for the public good. 
 
 ;! re ot ^king, and reading, and writing, and dis- 
 puting, and teaching, and proselyting, now struck 
 
\ 6 ) 
 
 him as the only life, so he soon set out for L 
 country with his family, to which was now addej 
 his new footman, William Wilson, whom h e y 
 taken, with a good character, out of a sober famil? 
 He was no sooner settled, than he wrote to invite 
 Mr. Trueman to come and pay him a visit, for he 
 would have burst, if he could not have got soy 
 one to whom he might display his new knowledge, 
 he knew that if on the one hand Trueman was no 
 scholar, yet on the other he was no fool, ari 
 though he despised his * prejudices' yet he thought 
 he might be made a good decoy duck, fori if lis 
 could once bring Trueman over, the whole club,at 
 the Cat and Bagpipes might be brought to follow 
 his example, and thus he might see himself at the 
 head x>f a society of his own proselytes, the su- 
 preme object of a philosopher's ambition. True 
 man came accordingly. He soon found that hov- 
 fever he might be shocked at the impious doctrine! 
 his friend maintained, yet than at important lesso: 
 imight be learnt even from the worst of 'enemies t: 
 truth; namely, an ever-wakeful attention to the: 
 grand object. If they set out with talking of ta 
 or politicks, of private news or public affairs, si 
 Mr. Fantom was ever on the watch to itch ink" 
 darling doctrines; whatever he began with, he ij 
 sure to end with a pert squib at the Bible, a vaf 
 .jest on clergy, the miseries of superstition, a" 
 the blessings of philosophy. if Oh" I said Tr'uejJj 
 to himself, " when shall I see Christians h&lf'j 
 frmch in earnest ? Why is it that almost all zeal 
 on the wrong side ?" 
 
 " Well, Mr. Fantom," said Trueman next 4 
 at breakfast, l< I am afraid you are leading W] 
 Hte sort of life here,"—" Sir/' -$M Fanto* 
 
distinguish one's self "— " So much the etter,' 
 said Tmeman, 94 I had rather not distinguish my- 
 self, unless it was to lead a bette* life than my 
 neighbours. Th*re is nothing I should dread 
 moie than being talked about. I dare say now 
 heaven is in a good measure filled with peopt# 
 whose names was never heard out of their ovyrx 
 street or village So I beg leave not to distinguish 
 ipyselr." — "Yes, but one mav if it is only by sign- 
 ing one's name to an essay or a paragraph ina..ews- 
 paper," said Fantom. 4< Heaven keep John True- 
 man's name out of a newspaper/' interrupted he in 
 a fright, " for it mwst either be found in the Old 
 ■iley cr the Bankrupt List, unless indeed I were 
 to remove shop, or sell otf my old stock. " — But 
 in your present confined situation you can't be of 
 no use," said Fantom, " That I deny", interrupted 
 the other. " 1 have filled all the parish offices with 
 some credit. I never took a bribe at an election, no, 
 not so much as a treat — I take care of my appren- 
 ' :es, and don't set them a bad example, by running- 
 plays and Sadler's Wells in the week, or jaunting 
 jout in a gig all day on Sundays ; for I look upon it 
 lat the country jaunt of the master on Sundays, ex-^ 
 ises his servants to more danger than their whole 
 ?ek's temptations in trade put together," 
 Fantom. I once had the same vulgar prejudices 
 >out the Church and the Sabbath, and all that anti- 
 mted stuff. But even on your own narrow prin- 
 Mes, how can a thinking being spend his Sunday 
 tter (if he must lose one day in seven by having 
 
; ■ - t 8 V 
 
 &ny Sunday at all) than by going into the pountrvb 
 admire the works of nature. 
 
 Trueman. — I suppose you mean the works 4 
 God— for I never read in the Bible that natim 
 made any thing. I should rather think that she her. 
 self was made by him who made all things— by him 
 who, when he said 'thou shalt not murder/ said 
 also, ' thou shalt keep holy the Sabbath day.' fiuf 
 Coaches, chariots, chaises/vis-a-vis, booby-hu l ches 
 sulkies, sociables, phaetons, gigs, curricles, cabrl 
 
 oles, chairs, stages, pleasure^carts and horses, 
 which crowd our roads — all those country houses 
 within reach, to which the London friends pour in 
 to the gorgeous Sunday feast; which the servants 
 are kept from church to dress—all those public 
 houses under the sign of which you read these al- 
 luring words— " An Ordinary on Sundays"— I say, 
 do you believe, that all. those houses and carriages 
 are crammed with philosophers, who go on Sun- 
 daysinto the country to admire the works of na- 
 ture, as you call it? — indeed, from the reeling gait 
 of some of them, when they go back at night, one 
 might take them for a certain set called the 
 ling philosophers." Then in answer to your 
 that a little tradesman can do no good, I must tell 
 you, that 1 belong to the society for relieving p 
 soners for small debts, and to the sick man's friepj 
 and to—* — 
 
 Fantom. Gh, enough— all these are petty or 
 cupations. 
 
 ' T-RUEMAy. Then they are better suited to petty! 
 men of petty fortune. I had rather have an ouncj 
 ©f real good done with my own hands, and seej 
 
9 
 
 with my o\vn eyes, than speculate about doing a ton 
 in a wild way, which I know can never be brought 
 about. 
 
 Fantom. I despise a narrow field. O for the 
 reign of universal benevolence ! I want to make 
 all mankind good and happy. 
 
 True man. Dear me ! sure that must be a 
 wholesale sort of a job ; had not you better try your 
 hand at a town or a. parish first ? 
 
 Fantom. Sir, I have a pian in my head for re- 
 lieving ihe miseries of the whole world. Every 
 thing is bad as it now stands. I would alter all the 
 laws, and do away all the religions, and put an end 
 to all the wars in the world, [ would every where 
 redress the injustice of fortune^ or what the vulgar 
 call providence. I would put an end to all punish- 
 ments, I would not leave a single prisoner on the 
 face of the globe. This is what I call doing things 
 on a grand scale. i( A scale with a vengeance/* 
 laid Trueman. " As to releasing the prisoners, 
 however, I don't so much like that, as it would be 
 pleasing a tew rogues at the expence of all honest 
 men ; but as to the rest of your plan, if all " Chris* 
 <tim countries would be so good as turn Christians,'* 
 it might be helped on a pood deal, There would 
 be still misery enough left indeed, because God in- 
 tended this world should be earth and not heaven* 
 But still, banishing irreligion from the world would 
 be like striking off all the pounds from an over- 
 charged bill; and all the troubles which would be 
 left, would be reduced to mere shillings, pence, and 
 farthings, as one may say," 
 
 Fantom. Your project would rivet the chains 
 Much mine is designed to break. 
 
 Arueman. Sir, I have no projects. Projects are 
 
jn general the offspring of restlessness, vanity anl 
 I idleness. I am too busy for projects, too content 
 ; for _ theor.es. and, I hope/ hive too much t 
 
 I £ ^ & P hllos °P her - The utmost extent or 
 I toy amb, .on at present is, to redress the wr or ^ 
 
 of a parish 'prentice, who has been cruelly u e 
 I by his master ; mdeed I have another little scheme 
 ■ whrch is to prosecute a fellow in our street who X 
 I jet a poor wretch in a work-house, of which h 
 had the care, perish through neglect, and y ou 
 must assist me. 3 u 
 
 *V«tow. The parish must do that, as to me 1 
 own that the wrongs of the Poles and South Ameri- 
 canssohll my mind, as to leave me no time to attend 
 I the petty sorrows of work- houses and parish pren- 
 tices. It !.s provinces, empires, continents, that the 
 benevoienceofthe philosopher embraces; every one 
 can do a little paltry good to his next neighbour 
 
 Jnteman. Every man can, but I don't see every 
 man does. If they would, indeed, your business 
 would oe ready done to your hands, and your grand 
 ocean of benevolence would be filled with the drops 
 which private charity would throw into it I am 
 glad, however, you are such a friend to tiie priso- 
 ners, because I am just now getting a little sub- 
 scription from our club, to set free your poor old 
 friend i om Saunders, a very honest brother trades- 
 man, who got first into debt, and then into gaol, 
 through no fault of his own, but merely throuah 
 the pressure of the times. We have each of us 
 ! allowed a trifle every week towards maintaining 
 ; 1 om s young family since he has been in prison, 
 ii but we think we shall do much more service to 
 Saunders, and indeed in the end lighten our own 
 expence, by paying down at once a little sum to re- 
 
store to nirti the comforts of life, ayd put him irt 
 a way of maintaining his family again. We have 
 made tip the money all except five guineas, I am 
 already promised four, and you have nothing to do 
 but to give me the fifth. And so for asingle guinea, 
 without any of the trouble, the meetings, and the 
 looking into his afFairs, which we have had, you will 
 at once have the pleasure (and it is no small one) 
 of helping to save a worthy family from starving, 
 of redeeming an old friend from gaol, and of put* 
 ting a little of your t oasted benevolence into action. 
 Realize! Masrer Fantom, there is nothing like 
 realizing," " Why,harkee,Mr.Trueman" said Fan- 
 torn, stammering, and looking very black, "don't 
 think I value a guinea j no, sir, I despise money, 
 'tis trash, 'tis dirt, and beneath the regard of a wise 
 man. Tis one of the ' Reeling inventions of arti- 
 ficial society. Sir, I could talk to you for half a 
 day on the abuse of riches, and on my own contempt 
 of money. " 
 
 Trucman, © pray don't give yourself the trou- 
 ble, it will be a easier way by half of proving both, 
 just to put your hand in your pocket and giving me 
 the guinea, without saying a word about it; and 
 then to you who value time so much and money 
 so little, it will cut the matter short. But come 
 now (for I see you will give nothing) I should be 
 mighty glad to know what is the sort of good you 
 do yourselves, since you alwavs object to what i* 
 done by others. " Sir," said Mr. Fantom, - the 
 object of a true philosopher h to diffuse light and 
 knowledge. I wish to see the whole world en- 
 lightened." 
 
 thPr Uman ' Amen ! ifyou mean wath the light of 
 Gospel, But if you mean that one religion has 
 
f I* ) 
 
 good a3 another, and that. no religion is the best of 
 ail; in short, if you want to make the v hole world 
 philosophers, why they had better stay as they are 
 But as to the true light, I wish it to reach the very 
 lowest, and 1 therefore bless God for Charity Schools 
 as instruments of diffusing it. 
 
 Fantom, who had no reason to suspect that his 
 Friend was going to call upon him for a subscription 
 on this account, ventured to praise them. Saying, 
 (C I am no enemy to these institutions. I would] 
 indeed, change the object of instruction, but ] would 
 have all the whole world instructed, " 
 
 Here Mrs. Fantom, who with her daughter had 
 quietly sat by at their work, ventured to put in a 
 word, a liberty she seldom took with her husband, 
 who in his zeal to make the whole world free and 
 happy, was too prudent to include his wife. <( Then, 
 my dear," said she, " I wonder you don't let your 
 own servants be taught a little. The maids can 
 scarcely tell a letter or say the Lord's Prayer, and 
 you know you won't allow them time to learn. Wil- 
 liam too has never been to church since we came 
 out of town, He was at first very orderly and obe- 
 dient, but now he is seldom sober of an evening, and 
 in the morning, when he should be rubbing the ta- 
 bles in the parlour, he is generally lolling upon 
 them, and reading your little manual of the new 
 \ philosophy." « Mrs. Fantom," said her husband, 
 I angrily, " you know that my labors for the public 
 , good, leave me little time to think of my own fanri- 
 ! ly. I must have % great field, I like to do good to 
 
 hundreds at once." 
 I " I am very glad of that, papa," said Miss Polly, 
 9 * 4 for then 1 hope you won't refuse to subscribe to 
 ! all those pretty children at the Sunday School, as 
 
I ( m ) 
 
 vou did yesterday, when the gentleman came a beg, 
 La- because that is the very thing you was wish. 
 ing 5 for«— there is two or three hundred to be done 
 
 aood to at once," 
 
 Trueman. Well, Mr. Fantom, you are a won- 
 derful man to keep up such a stock of benevolence 
 at so small an expence. To love mankind so dear? 
 lv and yet avoid all opportunities of doing them 
 good ; to have such a noble zeal for the millions, 
 and to feel so little compassion for the units ; sure- 
 ly none but a philosopher could indulge so much 
 philanthrophy, and so.piuch frugality at the same 
 time, 
 
 Fantom. 1 despise the man whose benevolence 
 is swallowed up in the narrow concerns of his own. 
 family, or parish, or country. 
 
 Trueman. Well, now I have a notion that 'tis 
 as well to do one's own duty as that of another man, 
 and to do good at home as well as abroad, and I 
 had as lieve help Tom Saunders to freedom, as a 
 Pole or a South American, though I should be very 
 glad to help them too, but one must begin to love 
 somewhere, and to do good somewhere; and I 
 think 'tis as natural to love one's own family, and 
 to do good m one s neighbourhood, as to any body 
 else. And if every man in every family, parish, 
 and county, did the same, why all the schemes, 
 'woald meet, and the end of one parish where I was 
 doing good, would be the beg . ning of another 
 where somebody else wasdoing good, 30 my scheme^ 
 would jut into my neighbours, and all would fit with 
 a kind of. dove-tail exactness," 
 
 Here they were told dinner was on the table.-— 
 "Don't think/' said Fantom, "that you have the 
 kfefct of the argument, because you happen to have 
 
( H ) 
 
 the last word. We will finish o-r talk some other 
 time. ? So saying they vent up to dinner, 
 j When they sat down, Mr. Fantom was not a to 
 tie out oi humour, to see testable insome disorder 
 Wil|iara was also rather more negligent than usual" 
 It the company called tor bread he gave them bee/ 
 ano he took away the clean platen mid gave them 
 dirry ones. Mr, Fantom soon discovered that his 
 servant was very drunk ; he flew into a violent pas* 
 sion. and ordered him out of the room, charging that 
 he should not appear in his presence in that 
 condition. William obeyed; but having slept an 
 hour or two, and got about half sober, he again made 
 his appearance. His master gave him a most se- 
 vere reprimand, and called him an idle, druken 
 vicious fellow. " Sir," said William, very pertly! 
 " if I do get drunk now and then, I only do it for the 
 good of my country,and in obedience to your wishes." 
 
 Mr. Fantom, truly provoked, now began to 
 scold him in words not fit to be repeated, and asked 
 him what the meant. " Why, sit/* said William, 
 " you are a philosopher you know, and I have often 
 oyer- heard you say to your company, that private 
 vices are public benefits, and so 1 thought that get- 
 ting drunk was as pleasant a way of doing good to 
 the public as any, especially when I could oblige 
 my master at the same time." 
 
 " Get out of my house/' said Mr. Fantom, in a great 
 rage, — " J do not desire to stay a moment longer, 
 so pay me my wages,"—" Not I, indeed," replied 
 the master, "nor will I give you a character, so 
 never let me see your face again." William took 
 his master at his word, and not only got out of the 
 house, but out of the country too as fast as possible. 
 When they found he was really gone, they made % 
 
hue-and-cry, in order to detain him till they had 
 examined if he had left every thingin the house as 
 he had found it. But William had got out of 
 reach, knowing he could not stand such a scrutiny. 
 On examination, Mr; Fantom found that all his 
 port was gone, and Mrs. Fantom missed three of 
 her best new spoons. William was pursued, but [ j j i|j 
 without succees, and Mr. Fantom was so much dis- 
 composed, that he could not for the rest of the day 
 talk on any subject but his wine and his spoons, nor |Jj 
 harangue on any project but that of recovering both 
 by bringing William to justice. U 
 Some days passed away, in which Mr. Fantom j 
 having had time to cool, began to be ashamed that | 
 he had been betrayed into such ungoverned passion* | 
 He made the best excuse he could, said no man was ; 
 perfect, and though he owned he had been too vio- 
 lent, yet he still hoped William would be brought h 
 to the punishment he deserved. "In the mem j 1 
 time," said Mr. Trueman,. " seeing how ill philo- ji 
 sophy has agreed with your man, suppose you were jl 
 to set about teaching your maids a little religion?'' \ j 
 Mr. Fantom cooly replied, " that the impertinent jjj 
 retort of a drunken footman could not spoil a system, m 
 " Your system, however, and your own behaviour/* ff 
 said Trueman, " have made that footman a scoun- || 
 drel: and you are answerable for his offences/* m 
 ■ ( Not I, trily," said Fantom, (C he has seen me do il 
 no harm; he has neither seen me cheat, gamble, 
 ftor get drunk ; and I defy you to say I corrupt my ; : ; :|f|| |M 
 servants, I ani a moral man, sir/'— ff Mr. Fantom/' Wm 
 said Trueman, " if you were to get drunk every day, |^|I||H 
 an d game every night, you would indeed endanger ii|H ||1 
 your own soul^ and give a dreadful example to 8HHH 
 
 J 
 
your family; but great as those sins are, aud God 
 forbid that I should attempt to lessen them, still 
 they are not worse, nay, they are not so bad as the 
 pestilent doctrines with which you infect vour l 10use 
 and your neighbourhood. A bad action is like a 
 a single murder, but a wicked principle is throw- 
 ing lighted gunpowder into a town, it is poisoning 
 a river ; there are no bounds, no certainty, noeni 
 to its mischief. The ill effects of the worst action 
 may cease in time, and the consepuences of your 
 example may end with your life, but souls may be 
 brought to perdition by a wicked principle, after 
 the author of it has been dead for ages. 
 
 Fantom. You talk like ah ignoramus, who has 
 never read the new philosophy. All this nonsense 
 of future punishment is how done away. It is our 
 benevolence which makes us reject our creed ; we 
 can no more believe in a Deity who permits so mudi 
 evil in the presait world, than one who threatens 
 eternal punishment in the next. 
 
 Trueman, What, shall mortal be more merci- 
 ful than God ? Do you pretend to be more compas- 
 sionate than thai gracious Father, who sent his Son 
 into the world to die for sinners ? 
 
 Fantom. You talk of your notions of the Dei- 
 ty from the vulgar views your Bible gives you of 
 him.".' « To be sure I do," said Trueman, "can 
 you tell me anyway of getting a belter notion of 
 him ? I don't want any of your farthinf-candle phi- 
 losophy, in the broad sun-shine of the Gospel, m 
 Fantom. My Bible tells me, that " God is love," 
 not merely loving, but love. Now do you think a 
 Being whose very essence is love, w r ould permit any 
 misery among his children here, if it was not to be, 
 
I ( 17 ) 
 
 lome way or other, or some whereorothcr, fortheir. 
 Jmod? You forget too that in a world where there 
 |s sin there must be misery. Then too I suppose, 
 Cod permits misery partly to excercise the suiter- 
 | m rs, and partly to try the prosperous; for Jjy trou- 
 tie God corrects some and tries others. Suppose 
 pew, Torn Saunders had not been put in prison, you 
 and 1 — no, i beg your pardon, you saved your gui- 
 nea ; well then, our club and I could not have shown 
 Bjpur kindness by getting him out, nor would poor 
 launders himsef have had an opportunity of exer- 
 ts ng his own patience under want and imprison? 
 ■lent. So you see one reason why God permits 
 pnisery is, that good men may have an opportunity 
 j pf lessening it." Mr. Fantom replied, " There is 
 L no object which I have more at heart; I have, as I 
 {old you, a plan in my head of such uni versal bene- 
 ■olenccasto include the happinessof all mankind." 
 
 ■ Mr. Fantom, "said Trueman, M I feel that I have 
 a general good-will towards all my brethern of man- 
 kind ; and if I had as much money in my purse as I 
 have love in my heart, I trust I should prove it ; all 
 m'dy is, that in p, station of life where I can't do 
 ■ u ch, I am more called upon to procure the hap- 
 piness of a poor neighbour, who has no one else to 
 ■ok to, than to form wild plans for the good of 
 ■ankind, too extensive to be accomplished, and 
 W chimerical to be put in practice I can't free 
 W ole countri^ nor reform the evils of society 
 ¥ dl tie, but I can free an aggrieved wretch in 3 
 pkhouse, and I can reform myself and my own 
 
 ■ Some weeks after a letter was bretfght to Mr, 
 Umom, f rom hfe l a te servant William, who had 
 W n turn "d a W ay for drunkenness, as related in th 
 
 C 
 
( 81 ) 
 
 former part of this history, and who had also ] 
 bed his master of some wine and some spoons. 
 Fantom glancing his eye over the letter said, 
 is dated from Chelmsford jail; that rascal is cv ot 
 into prison I am glad of it with all my heart, it 
 is the fittest place for such scoundrels.. 1 hope he 
 will be sent, to Botany Bay, if not banged. "— "Q 
 ho! my good friend/' said Trueman, " then I find 
 that in abolishing all prisons you Would just let one 
 stand for the accommodation of those who should 
 happen to rob you. 19 Mr. Fantom drily observed, 
 that he was not lend of jokes, and proceeded to read 
 the letter. It expressed an earnest wish that his late 
 master would condescend to pay him one visit in his 
 dark and doleful abode, as he wished to say a few 
 words to him, before the dreadful sentence of tliej 
 law, which had already been pronounced, should 
 be executed. 
 
 " Let us go and see the poor fellow, " said True- 
 man, "it is but a morning's ride. If he is really! 
 so near his end, it would be cruel to refuse him." 
 ** Not I, truly," said Fantom, "he deserves nothing 
 at my hands, but the halter he is likely to meet with! 
 Such port as is not to be had for money, and the | 
 spoons, part of my new dozen." — " As tothe wine/1 
 said Trueman, " I am afraid you must give thai 
 up, but the only way to get any tidings of the I 
 spoons, is to go and hear what he has to say ; I have I 
 no doubt but he will make such a confession asmavl 
 be very useful to others, which, you know is one! 
 giifcind advantage of punishments; and, besides, w| 
 may afford him some little comfort." — *' As to comj 
 forth ' deserves none : i om me," said Fantom, » I 
 as to his confessions, they can be of no use °j 
 .me, but as they give me a cfoyace of getting nl J 
 
l 9 . 
 
 spoons, so I don't much care if I do take a ride with 
 
 ^°\Vheh they came to the prison, Mr. Trueman's 
 tender heart sunk within him. He deplored the 
 corrupt nature of man, which makes such rigorous 
 confinement needful, not merely for thepuni shment 
 I of the offender, but for the safety of society. Fan- 
 I torn, from mere trick and habit w&s just preparing 
 I a speech on general benevolence, and the cruelty 
 I of imprisonment, tiii the recoilectk n of his old port 
 and his new spoons cooled his ardour, and he w«nt 
 I on without raying a word. When they readied the 
 I cell where the unhappy William was confined, they 
 I stooped it the door The poor wretch had thrown 
 himself on the ground, as well us ins chains would 
 give hfoi leav \ He groaned puteoasiy, and was so 
 1 swell owed u-p with a sense of his own miseries, that 
 he neither heard the door open, nor saw the gen- 
 tle'nen. Me was attempting to pray, hut in agony, 
 v.-bich made his ords hardly intelligible. Thus 
 muckti eycouU mak. QJLijt : " God be merciful to 
 me a situi t — the chief of sinners ! *' J hen suddenly 
 at(emp!ed >o start no, but. prevented by his irons 
 he roared out, v * O-God ! rhou cans't not be merci- 
 ful to me, for 1 have denied thee ; I have ridiculed 
 my Savior who died for me; i have derided his 
 w rd have res sted his spirit. 1 have laughed at 
 that heaven which is shut against me; 1 have denied 
 those torments which await me To-morrow ! to* 
 'taorrow ! O for a longer space for repentance, O for 
 a short reprive from hell!" — Mr. Truemari wept 
 *>o loud, that it drew the attention of the criminal, 
 who now lifted up his eves, and cast on his late roas- 
 ter a look so dreadful, that Fantom wished for a mo- 
 ment that he had given up all hope of the spoons, 
 
i' ' ( 2 b ) 
 
 rather than have exposed himself to such a fe^ 
 At length the poor *, etch said, in a voice that w ou 
 have . mel t cd a heart of stone, \f Oh,sir, are you there? 
 I did wish to see you before My dreadful sentence 
 is put in execution. Oh, sir ! to-morrow, to-irJl 
 row! But. 1 have a confession to make to vo » 
 This revived Mr. Fantom, Who again ventured to 
 glance a hope at the spoons, ff Sir/' said William 
 1 could not die without making my confession 5 ' 
 w SE?* restitut on too, I hope.- replied Fan ton 
 Where are my spoons?"—- Sir, they are. rone 
 with the rest of my wretched booty. But oh, sip! 
 these spoons make so petty an article in my bla-k 
 account, that \ hardly thmkof them. Murder, sir 
 murder is the or; me $f <£ |afeH i am j usti vdoonvdto 
 die. ^Oh, sir ! Who can civ, ell n everUti : g bum- 
 ,ngs?" Asthis was a qu -s:i n which even a piiiioso 
 rher could not answer, Mr. Fantorn was going to >. 
 Heal oif, especially as he nowgave up all hopetftte 1 
 ^poons ; but Wiliiam called liim back.— "S.ay, sir, I 
 s tay, I conjure you, as you wdi answer it at the baf 
 °l God- You aie fhe cau e of my being about to 
 fcmter a shr* 
 
 leful death. Yes, sir, you made rue a 
 Drunkard, aihief, and a murderer."— " How dare 
 you, Willia.,1," cried Mr. Fantom, with grea' emo- 
 *ion, "accuse me with behg the cause of'such hor- 
 rid crim-s fV — 'Sir,"' answered the cri minal, "from 
 you T leartit rhe principles which lead to those crimes 
 By the grace of God { should never have fallen into 
 sins deserving- of the gahows, if i had not often 
 overheard vou say there was no hereafter, no judg- 
 ihent, noiuture reckoning. Oh, sir! there is a hell 
 dreadful, inconceivable, eternal Here, through 
 the excess of anguish, the poor fellow fainted --way. 
 
 Mri, Fantom, who did not *t nil reash ihi&scem;,^ 
 
>eni "Well, sir we will g0) if you pl 
 |r y a see there is nothing to be done." 
 
 J- Sir," replied Mr. Trueman, mournfully "you 
 my?"- "yo« Please, but I shall stay, f or I see there 
 ■« great deal to be done."_<<Whar," rejoined the 
 ,h,r," d-you »hmk it possible his life can be sav- 
 ,tdr - No indeed," said Trueman, "but I hope it 
 ■possible his soul may be saved,"— « I don't under 
 |nd these things," said Fantom, making toward 
 | door. <; Nor I neither." said Txueman, ™£ 
 ■a fellow-sinner I am bound to do what I can for 
 ■is poor fellow. Do you go home, Mr. J- ,„tom and 
 ■lshyourtr-atise on universal benevolence 'and 
 
 ■ olessed erf'ects of philosophy ; and hark ye be 
 mj 011 Jet f e fr.>uri S piece of you. book represent 
 
 that wil/be what oufparsoa 
 
 » » PRACTICAL ILLUSTRATION. You know I h-te 
 
 |or.es this .sr^thisisPHuosoPH, made 
 Bv to the meanest capacity." 
 
 ■Mr Fantomsneaked offto finish his workat home 
 
 ■ rueman staid to finish his in the prison' 
 
 ■ assed the night with the wretched convict he 
 |yed with him and tor him, and read to him the 
 W -nnal psalms, and some portions of the Gosoe) 
 
 ■VureTuVofh-T^ r d t0 ° PrUd£nt * ^ 
 I \lth h 1,S debthby a ^» me «t* and conso* 
 
 I for the Mi - e r WM , Wa ! rn,nted tOUse ' 
 
 I" drew un i^f 7^°™ he had led **** Th ^ 
 gS^SSJ^ fo i ioWIn ff W. which Mr. True 3 - 
 ecutiun 1 ' and gave away at the place of ex . 
 
LAST WORDS, CONFESSION, AND DYING SPL.LCII, 
 
 OF 
 
 WILLIAM WILSON, 
 
 Who W0S executed at Chelmsford for Murda, 
 
 I was bred up in the fear of God, and lived 4 
 eredit in many sober families, in which 1 was a 
 faithful servant. But being tempted by a Id. 
 ?r>her wages, I left a good place to go and In 
 with Mr. Fantom, who, however, made good no 
 ©f his fine promises, but proved a bard masti 
 j,, his service I was not allowed time to gq 
 church This troubled me at hrst, till 1 ovj 
 heard my master say, that going to church «l 
 cuperstitious prejudice, and only iv.ea.it ft M 
 Vti L,, r Upon this I resolved to go no mqie, 
 1 thought they could not be two religions, one 
 the master, and one for the servant. f mM 
 master never prayed, I too left oh pray ng> J 
 gave Satan great power oyer n,e, so that 
 that time fell into almost every sin. ^ 
 uneasy at first, and my conscience gave rat n° 
 butl was soon reconciled, by over-hearing rft J 
 ter and another gentleman say, that deat! w . 
 . long sle.p, and hell and judgment wete Jg 
 invention of priests to keep the pool in oi° . 
 
 mention this as a warning to all masters # 
 
I ( 2 3 ) 
 
 ■resses to take care what they converse about, while 
 Jrvants are waiting at table. They cannot tell 
 B)W many souls they have sent to perdition by such 
 Rose talk. The crime for which I die is the natn- 
 
 ■1 consequence of the principles I learnt of my 
 Ba. ur. A rich man, indeed, who throws off re* 
 Igion, may escape the gallows, because want does 
 It drive him to commit the crimes which lead to 
 ■; but what shall restrain a needy man, who has 
 ■sen taught that there is no dreadful reckoning? 
 Bh, my dear fellow servants ! take warning by 
 By sad fate, never be tempted away from a sober 
 Brvice, for the sake of a little more wages, Never 
 pnture your immortal souls in houses were God is 
 t feared. And now hear me, O my God, though I 
 ve blasphemed thee ; forgive me, O my Saviour! 
 Bough I have denied thee O Lord most holy, O 
 Bod most mighty, deliver me from the bitter pains 
 ■ eternal death ! and receive my soul, for his sake 
 Bio died for sinners. 
 
 B William Wilson - J 
 
 ■ Mr. Trueman would never leave this poorpfcni- 
 ■nt till he was launched into eternity, but attended!: 
 ■m, with the Minister, in the cart. This pious 
 ■inister never cared to tell me what he thought of 
 ■Wham s state. W hen I ventured to mention my 
 mi L -> thiit though his penitence was late, yet it was 
 B n(:cre and spoke by the dying tlref on the cross, 
 B a ground ol encouragement, the Minister, with 
 ■very serious look, made me this answer, * Sir, 
 mt instance is too often brought forward on oc« 
 B si0 »s to which it does not apply ; I do not chuse 
 sa y any thing to your application of it in the* 
 
( *4 ) 
 
 present case, but I will answer you in the word, 
 ofagood man, speaking of the penitent thief] 
 There is one such instance given that nobody vtim 
 despair, and there is but one, that no body 
 presume, 
 
 Poor William was turned off just a quarter be- 
 fore eleven, and may the Lord have had mercy onj 
 his soul !