■IS ALL FOR THE BEST. 
 
 Sold by HOWARD and EVANS, 
 
 nttrs to the Cheap Repository for Moral and Religious Tracts,) 
 J^r and .. 2 , Long-Lane, West-Smithfielb, and J. HAT- 
 M W,u . »90,Picc AD iLLY,London. By S. HAZARD, Bathj, 
 lounL E0Oksellers ' Newsmen » and Hawkers, in Town a&a 
 
 G >™ «Uov a nce uill be made to Shopkeepers and Havkert, 
 KICE ONE-PENNY, or 6*. per Hundred 
 
'TIS ALL FOR THE BEST] 
 
 " TT is all for the best," said Mrs. Simpson, when 
 A ever any misfortune befel her. She had $ 
 such an habit of vindicating Providence, that, \\ 
 stead of weeping and wailing under the most tryir 
 dispensations> her chief care was to convince he 
 self and others, that however great might be k 
 sufferings, and however little they could be a 
 counted for at present, yet that the Judge of a 
 the earth could not do but right. The honour i 
 God was dearer to her than her own credit, and tij 
 chief desire was to turn all events to his gloij 
 Though she was the daughter of a clergyman, aj 
 the widow of a genteel tradesman, she had be 
 reduced to accept of a room in an alms hoo 
 Instead of repining at the change ; instead af in 
 ing on her former gentility, and saying, "Hfl 
 handsomely she had lived once; and how hard 
 was to be reduced; and she little thought ever 
 end her days in an alms-house \\ which is the co 
 man language of those who were never so wellj 
 before : she was thankful that such an asylum 1 
 provided for want and age. 
 
 One &oe evening, as she was sitting reading 
 bible on the little bench shaded with honeysjCH 
 just before her door, who should come andsii j 
 by her but Mrs. Betty, who had former y j 
 lady's maid at the great house in the > vi | 
 yrhich Mrs, Simpson's father had been nun , 
 
.3 
 
 Betty, after alffe of vanity, was by a train of mis- 
 fortunes, brought to this very alms-house; and 
 though she had taken no care by frugality and pru- 
 dence to avoid it, she thought it a hardship and 
 disgrace, instead of being thankful, as she ought to 
 have been, for such a retreat. At first she did not 
 know Mrs. Simpson ; her large cloak, bonnet, and 
 brown stuff gown, (for she always made her appear- 
 ance conform to her circumstances) being very 
 different from the dress she had been used to wear 
 when Mrs. Betty had seen her dining at the great 
 house; and time and sorrow had much altered her 
 countenance. But when Mrs. Simpson kindly ad- 
 dressed her as an old acquaintance, she screamed 
 with surprise—" What ! you, madam ?" cried she : 
 "You in an alms-house, living on charity; yoiu 
 who used to be so charitable "yourself, that you 
 never suffered any distress in the parish which you 
 could prevent?"— " That may be one reason, 
 Betty," replied Mrs, Simpson, "why Providence 
 has provided this refuge for my old age. And my 
 Jeart overflows with gratitude when I look back on 
 .his goodness."— -No such great goodness, me- 
 thinks,'' said Betty; - why you was bom aftd bred 
 I Jad y> and are now reduced to live in an alms- 
 ;)ouse."_- Betty, I was born and bred a sinner, 
 ^deserving of the mercies I have received "~ 
 No such great mercies," said Betty. " Whv I 
 neard you had been turned out of doors ; that your 
 JJtand had broke; and that you had been in 
 Cf" * tarvin g- though I did not know what was 
 
 m&*yt* toGod^S 
 sort of !' J Vel1 said. Betty, - you are an odd 
 
 £ f h g ?? ewoman ; lf from d Prosperous coZ 
 Uo » I had been made a bankrupt, a widow, and w 
 
beggar, I should have thought it no such m 
 matter to be thankful for ; but there is no account! 
 ing for taste. The neighbours used to say, that all 
 yolir troubles must needs be a judgment upon you- 
 but I, who knew how good you were, thought it 
 very hard you should suffer so much ; but now I 
 see you reduced to an alms-house, I beg your par- 
 don, madam, but I am afraid the neighbours were 
 in the right, and that so many misfortunes could 
 never have happened to yo\i without jou had com- 
 mitted a great many sins to deserve them, fori 
 always thought that God is so just, that he punishes 
 us for all our bad actions, and rewards us for all our 
 good ones." — <e So he does, Betty, but he does itin 
 his own way, and at his own time, and not according 
 to our notion of good and evil ; for his ways are 
 not as our ways. God, indeed, punishes the bad 
 and rewards the good; but he does not do it fully 
 and finally in this world. Indeed, he does not set 
 such a value on outward things as to make riches, 
 and rank, and beauty, and health, the rewards of 
 piety ; that would be acting like weak and erring 
 men, and not like a just and holy God. Our belie 
 in a future state of rewards and punishments is no 
 always so strong as it ought to be, even now ; bo 
 how totally would our faith fail if we regularly saw 
 every thing made even in this world. So far am 
 from thinking that God is less just, and future hap 
 piness less certain, because 1 see the wicked i some 
 
 times prosper, and the righteous suffer 
 world, that I am rather led to believe that God 
 more just and heaven more certain. For m 
 first place, God will not put off his favourite c Uj 
 dren with so poor a lot as the good things or i 
 world, and next, seeing that the best men 
 
I j ft , vc |o not often attain to the best things ; why it 
 I iy serves to strengthen my belief, that he has 
 st assuredly reserved for those that love him, 
 ijj * good things as an eye hath not seen nor ear 
 eard. 5 God by keeping man in paradise while he 
 as innocent, and turning him into this world as 
 oon as he had sinned, gave a plain proof that he 
 ever intended this world, even in its happiest state, 
 s a place of reward. My father gave me good 
 rineiples and useful knowledge; and while he 
 aught m e by a habit of constant employment, to 
 e, if I may so say, independent of the world, yet 
 e led me to a constant sense ofdependance on God. 
 
 he could save little or nothing for me, he was 
 ery desirous of seeing me married to a young geu- 
 eman in the neighbourhood who expressed a re- 
 aid for me. But while he was anxiously engaged 
 n bringing this about, my good father died." 
 "How very unlucky!" interrupted Betty. — 
 No, Betty, it was very providential ; this man 
 hough he maintained a decent character and lived 
 perly, yet he would not have made me happy." 
 "Why what could you want more of a man?" 
 aid Betty. " Religion," returned Mrs. Simpson* 
 'As my father made a creditable appearance, and 
 as very charitable, and as I was an only child, this 
 entlemun concluded that he could give me a good 
 ptime, for he did not know that all the poor 
 n " is Parish are the children of every pious cler- 
 Finding I had little or nothing left me, 
 I Y th ^rew his attentions."— " What a sad thing " 
 ried Betty. "No, it was all for the best ; Fro- 
 idence over-ruled his covetousness to my good. 
 c °uld not have been happy with a rmin whose 
 
soul was set on the perishable things f th' 
 world; nor did I esteem him, though I laboured I? 
 submit my own inclinations to those of my ky 
 father. The very circumstance of my being U 
 pennyless produced the direct contrary effect o n 
 Mr. Simpson. He was a sensible young man, en- 
 gaged in a prosperous business; we "had W 
 esteemed each other, but while my father lived he 
 thought me above his hopes. We were married- 
 I found him an amiable, industrious, good tem- 
 pered man ; he respected religion and religious 
 people; but I had the grief to find him less pious 
 than I had hoped. He was ambitious, and a litt 
 too much immersed in worldly schemes; au 
 though I know it was all done for my sake, yet that 
 did not blind me so far as to make me think it 
 right. " He attached himself so eagerly to business, 
 that he thought every hour lost in which he was not 
 doing something that would tend to raise me. The 
 more prosperous he grew the- less religious he be- 
 came ; and 1 began to tind that one might be un- 
 happy with a husband one tenderly loved. One 
 day as he was standing on some steps to reach down 
 some goods, he fell from the top and broke his leg 
 in two places." 
 
 What a dreadful misfortune said Mrs 
 Betty. 41 What a signal blessing!" said Mrs. 
 Simpson. s( Here I am sure I had reason to say 
 all was for the best ; from that very hour in wbfcl 
 my on: ward troubles began, I date the beginning of 
 my happiness.;' Severe suffering, a near prospect 
 of death, absence from the world, silence, reflection 
 
 and above <U1, the divine blessing on the prayfll 
 and scriptures I mid to him, were the means usea 
 by our merciful father to turn my husband's heart- 
 
L • rt this confinement he was awakened to a 
 P ann pnse of his own sinfulness, of the vanity of 
 liuhis world has to bestow, and of his great need 
 I f Saviour: It was many months before he could 
 tVve hi* bed; during this time his business was 
 I rlected. His principal clerk took advantage of 
 It absence to receive large sums of money in his 
 lie and absconded. On hearing of this great 
 [fo s our creditors came faster upon us than we 
 Icouid answer their demands; they grew more lm- 
 Imtient as we were less able to satisfy them 5 one 
 [niisfortune followed another, till at length, Mr. 
 Simpson became a bankrupt."—" What an evil!" 
 exclaimed Mrs. Betty. "Yet it led in the end to 
 I much good," resumed Mrs. Simpson. " We were 
 I forced to leave the town in which we had lived with 
 (so much credit and comfort, and to betake ourselves 
 to a mean lodging in a neighbouring village, till 
 my husband's strength should be recruited, and till 
 we could have time to look about us to see what 
 was 10 be done. The first night we got to this 
 poor dwelling my husband felt very sorrowful, not 
 tor his own sake, but that he had brought so much 
 poverty on me, whom he had so dearly loved ; I, on 
 .the contrary, was unusually chearful; for the 
 I blessed change in his mind had more than recon- 
 ciled me to the sad change in his circumstances. 
 1 was contented to live with him in a poor cottage 
 lor a few years on earth, if it might contribute to 
 our spending a blessed eternity together in heaven. 
 1 said to him ' instead of lamenting that we are now 
 reduced to want all the comforts of life, I have 
 sometimes been almost ashamed to live in the full 
 e; \joyment of them, when I have reflected that my 
 'ctYiour; not only chose to deny himself all these 
 
ip for 
 
 i 
 
 enjoyments, but even to liyejt life of hardsh 
 my sake, not one of his numerous miracles te 
 ed to his own comfort; and though we read ^ !r 
 ferent times that he both hungered and thirsted' 
 yet it was not for his own gratification that he on i 
 changed water into wine ; it was for others, not C 
 self, that even the humble sustenance of barlev" 
 bread was multiplied. See here, we have a bed 
 left bis ; I had, indeed, nothing but straw to stuff it 
 with, but the Saviour of the world had not where 
 to lay his head.' My husband smiled through his 
 tears, and we sat down to supper. It consisted of a 
 roll and a bit of cheese I had brought with me, and 
 we ate it thankfully. After we had prayed toge- 
 ther, we read the eleventh chapter of the Epistle 
 to the Hebrews. When ray husband had finished j 
 it, he said, 'Surely if God's chief favourites have 
 been martyrs, is not that a sufficient proof that this 
 world is not a place of happiness, nor earthly pros- 
 perity the reward of virtue. Shall we, after read- 
 ing this chapter, complain of our petty trials ?~ 
 Shall we not rather be thankful that our afflictioni 
 so light ?' 
 
 " Next day Mr. Simpson walked out in search of 
 some employment, by which we might be support- 
 ed. He got a recommendation to an opulent far- 
 mer and factor, who had large concerns, and 
 wanted a skilful person to assist him in keeping his 
 accounts. This we thought a fortunate circum- 
 stance, for we found that the salary would serve 1 
 to procure us at least ail the necessaries of life 
 The farmer was so pleased with Mr. Simpsons 
 quickness, regularity, and good sense, that he o- 
 fered us, of his own accord, a little neat cottage o 
 his own, which then happened to be vacant, and to 
 
should live rent-free, and promised to be a 
 lend to us."--" All does seem for the best now, 
 ^ed," interrupted Mrs. Betty. " We shall see/' 
 • I \f rs . Simpson, and thus went on — 
 «« 1 now became wry easy and very happy; and 
 Its cheerfully employed in putting our few things- 
 I order, and making every thing look to the best 
 [vantage. My husband, who wrote all the day 
 f his 1 employer, in the evenings assisted me in 
 ing up my little garden. This was a source of 
 mch pleasure to us; we both loved a garden, and 
 |e were not only contented but cheerful. Our em- 
 ■oyer hacj been absent soaie weeks on his annual 
 lou-icy. He came home on a Saturday night, 
 1 the next morning sentfor Mr. Simpson to come 
 d settle his accounts, which were got behind 
 nd by his long absence. We were just going 
 i) church, and Mr. Simpson sent back word, that 
 
 le would call and speak to him on his way home. 
 
 it second message followed, ordering him to come 
 I) the farmer's directly — -he agreed that we would 
 talk round that way, and that my husband should 
 till and excuse his attendance. The farmer, 
 pore ignorant and worse educated than his plow- 
 pen, with all that pride and haughtiness which 
 freakh without knowledge or religion is apt to give, 
 lutlely asked my husband what he meant by send- 
 ing him word that he could not come to him till the 
 lext day ; and insisted that he should stay and set- 
 |ethe accounts then. < Sir,' said my husband, in 
 v -iy respectful manner, ' I am on my road to 
 ^urch, and am afraid I shall be too late.'—' Are 
 r u so >' saj d the farmer. « Do you know who sent 
 IPr you? you may however go to church, if you 
 U1 > so you make haste back ; and, d'ye hear, you 
 
may leave your accounts with me, as I conck 
 you have brought them with you, I will look the * 
 over by the time you return, and then you and i 
 ^an do all I want to have done to day in about 
 couple of hours; and I will give you home some 
 letters to copy for me in the evening.'--.' 5J 
 answered my husband, ' 1 dare not obey you; 'A 
 Sunday.' — ' And so you refuse to settle my J 
 counts only because it is Sunday.' — 'Sir/ replied 
 Mr. Simpson, 'if you would give me a handful of 
 silver and gold 1 dare not break the commandment 
 of my God.' — 'Weir said the farmer, ' but I don't 
 order you to drive my cattle, or to work in my 
 garden, or to do any thing which you might fancy 
 would be a bad example/ — c Sir/ replied my b, 
 band, 'the example indeed goes a great way, but 
 It is not the first object. The deed is wrong in 
 itself/ — r Well, but I shall not keep you from 
 church ; and when you have been there, there is no 
 harm in doing a little business, or taking a littlj 
 pleasure, the rest of the day/ — 'Sir,' answered ray 
 husband, 'the commandment does not say, thou 
 shalt keep holy the sabbath morning, but the sab- 
 bath day/ — 'Get out of my house you puritanical 
 rascal, and out of my cottage too ; for if you retfflj 
 to do my work, I am not bound to keep mj en 
 gage m en t with ycu, as you will not obey me 4 
 master/ — ' Sir/ said Mr. Simpson, ' I would gldj 
 obey you, but I have a master in heaven whom 
 dare not disobey/—' Then let him find em^ 
 ment for you/ said the enraged farmer; ' * 01 
 iancy you will get but poor employment on eai 
 with these scrupulous notions, and so send h^l 
 aiy papers directly, and pack off out of the p aU 1 
 -^' Out of your cottage/ sa ; d my husband ' 
 
 •I 
 
II 
 
 ■ n Iv will but as to tne P ar!sn > I hope I m ay re- 
 Kj n in that if I can find employment. ' — ' 1 will 
 Eke it too hot. to hold you/ replied the farmer, 
 W you had better troop off bag and baggage, for 
 overseer, and yon are sicidy, it is my duty 
 Lt to let any vagabonds stay in this parish who 
 ■e likely to become chargeable/ 
 I** By the time my husband returned home, for 
 1 found it too late to go to church, I had got our 
 ■tie dinner ready ; it was a better one than we 
 Kjior a long while been accustomed to see, and L 
 ■as unusually cheerful at this improvement in our 
 fcu instances; 1 saw his eyes full of tears; and 
 ■h! with what pain did he bring himself to tell me 
 ■at it was the last dinner we must ever eat in that 
 louse. I took his hand with a smile and only said, 
 Hie Lord gave and the Lord taketh away, blessed 
 le the name of the Lord/' — ' Notwithstanding this 
 Bidden stroke, (said my husband; this is still a 
 lappy country. Our employer, it is true, may 
 turn us out at a moment's notice, because the cot- 
 tage is his own, but he has no further power over 
 is; be cannot confine or punish us. His riches, it 
 Is true, give him power to insult, but rut to op- 
 press us. And as to our being driven out from a 
 lottage, how many persons of the highest rank 
 lave lately been driven out from their palaces 
 |nd castles: persons born in a station which we 
 lever enjoyed, and used to all the indulgences oi 
 Pat rank and wealth we never knew, are at this 
 foment wandering over the face of the earth, 
 Jthout a house and without bread; exiles and beg- 
 ars , while we, blessed be God, are in our own na- 
 've land; we have still our liberty, our limbs, the 
 Action of just and equal laws, our churches, 
 
t 
 
 our bibles and our sabbaths.' — This happy s ^ 
 my husband's mind hushed my sorrows, and hie 
 once murmured ; nay, I sat down to dinner -W[\WJ 
 degree of cheerfulness, endeavouring to cast all] 
 our care on him that careth for us. We Rati be? 
 ged to stay till the next morning, as Sunday M 
 not the day on which we liked to remove, but w e 
 were ordered not to sleep another night in that I 
 house! so as- we had little to carry, we marched I 
 off in the evening to the poor lodging we had be- 1 
 fore occupied. The thought that my husband had 
 cheerfully renounced his little all for conscience 
 sake, gave an unspeakable serenity to my mind' 
 and I felt thankful that though cast down, we were 
 not forsaken ; nay, I felt a lively gratitude to God, 
 that while 1 doubted not he would accept this little 
 sacrifice, he had graciously forborne to call us to 
 greater trials." 
 
 " And so you were turned adrift once more?- 
 Well, ma'am, saving your presence, I hope you 
 won't be such a fool to say all was for the best^ 
 now,"— "Yes, Betty, he who does all things well, 
 now made his kind Providence more manifest than 
 ever. That very night, while We were sweetly 
 sleeping in our poor lodging, the pretty cottage out 
 of which we were so unkindly driven, was burnt 
 to the ground by a flash of lightning which caught 
 the thatch, and so completely consumed the whole 
 little building, that had it not been for that mer- 
 ciful Providence who thus over-ruled the cruelty 
 of the farmer for the preservation of our lives, we 
 must have been burnt to ashes with the house, 'v 
 that men would therefore praise the Lord for hij 
 goodness, and for all the wonders that he doethP 
 the children of meta," 
 
o 
 
 I «\ will not tell you all the trials and troubles 
 Ihich befel us afterwards, because I would spare 
 ly heart the sad story of my husband's death." — 
 I Well ttet was another blessing too, I suppose/' 
 ■aid Betty. " Qh, it was the severest trial ever 
 I! n : me; I almost sunk under it at the time, and 
 |et I now feel it to be the greatest mercy 1 ever 
 ■xcerienced. He was my idol ; no trouble came 
 ■ery near my heart while he was with me. 1 pray- 
 m and struggled indeed to be weaned from this 
 [d, but still my affection for him tied me down 
 Jo earth with a strong cord; and though I did try 
 keep my eye fixed on the eternal world, yet I 
 Hewed it at too great a distance. I had deceived 
 Bnyse If — I fancied I bore my troubles so well from 
 le pure love of God, but I now find that my love 
 ■or my husband had too great a share in recon- 
 tiling me to every trouble which I underwent for 
 
 im. 1 lost him. The charm was broken; 
 
 }ie cord which tied me down to earth was cut; 
 
 i world had nothing left to engage me. Hea- 
 ven had now no rival in my heart. Though my 
 love of God had been always sincere, 1 found 
 fcere wanted this blow to make it perfect. But, 
 Ihough all that had made life pleasant to me was 
 tone, I did not sink as one who had no hope. I 
 frayed that I might even now be enabled to adore 
 |ne doctrine of God and my Saviour. 
 " Alter many more hardships, 1 at length got an 
 &lum in this alms-house : here my cares are at an 
 M, but not my duties. I can still read and pray 
 |tn the sick. In my younger days 1 thought it 
 ot much to sit up late for my pleasure; shall I 
 think much of sitting up now and then to 
 atch by a dying bed?— My Saviour waked and 
 
14 
 
 watched for me in the Garden and on the 
 It is only by keeping his sufferings before me »u 
 I can practise true self-denial. ^ 
 Just as Mrs. Simpson was saying these words- 
 letter was brought her from the minister of the ] 
 rish where the farmer lived, by whom Mr. Sin 
 son had been turned out of his cottage. The lett ri 
 was as follows ; 
 
 " Madam, 
 
 " I write to tell you, that your old oppress! 
 Mr. Thomas, is dead, I attended him in his lasi 
 moments. O may my latter end never be like his 
 I shall not soon forget his despair at the approac 
 of death. His riches, which had been his s 
 joy, now doubled his sorrovvs, for he was goirf 
 where they could be of no use to him; am 
 found too late, that he had laid up no treasure i 
 Heaven. He felt great concern at his past HI 
 but for nothing more than his unkindnessto Mr 
 Simpson. He charged me to find you but, and I 
 you know, (hat by his will he bequeathed you fiv 
 hundred -pounds as some compensation. He d:e 
 in great agonies, declaring with his last bread 
 that if he could live his life over again, he woui 
 serve God, and strictly observe the sabbath. 
 
 ff Your's, J. Johnson. 
 
 Mrs. Betty, who had listened attentively to th 
 letter, jumped up, clapped her hands, and crie 
 out, " Now ail is for the best, and I shall see yo 
 a lady once more." — <f I am, indeed, thankful fl 
 tyis mercy," [said Mrs. Simpson, "andamg» 
 l at riches were not sent me till I Hd le^J 
 humblv hope, to make a right use of them* 
 
15 
 
 Lome, let us go in, for I am very cold, and find I 
 lave sat too long in the night air." 
 
 Betty was now ready enough to acknowledge the 
 of Providence in this prosperous event, tho p 
 
 shf 
 
 IhariL 
 
 3 was blind to it when the dispensation was more 
 rk. Next morning she went early to visit Mrsl 
 Simpson, but not seeing her below, she went up 
 fetairs, where to her great sorrow, she found her 
 tonfincd to her bed by a fever, caught the night 
 [before by sitting so late on the bench reading the 
 Better and talking it over. — Betty was now more 
 
 teady to cry out against Providence than ever. . 
 
 ■"What! to catch a fever while you were reading 
 ■that very letter which told you about your good for- 
 tune; which would have enabled you to live like a 
 ■lady as you are, — I never will believe this is for 
 ■the best. — I did think that Providence was at last 
 ■giving ycu your reward."—- Reward/' cried Mrs. 
 ■Simpson, "O, no, my merciful Father will not 
 ■put me off with so poor a portion as wealth ; I feci 
 II shall die."—- It is very hard indeed," said Betty, 
 r so good as you are, to be taken off just as your 
 ■prosperity was beginning.-—- You think I am 
 pod just now/' said Mrs. Simpson, "because I 
 t m Parous. Success is no sure mark of Gods 
 favour; at this rate, you, who judge by outward 
 f ungs would have thought Herod a better man 
 fan John the Baptist; and if I may be allowed to 
 ay so, you, on your principles, would have believe 
 £ i .° ntIUS Pilat e higher in God's favour than tho 
 Mtii^° m He condern P ed to die for your sins 
 
 liencT dayS MrS ' Bett y found that her ™w 
 resign dy,ng ' and thou S h she struck at her 
 hm\on t S h e could not forbear murmuring ttuc 
 
3 * 
 
 16 
 
 So good a wtiman should be taken off at the v 
 time she came into possession of so much money 
 
 " Betty," said the dying woman, " do you realM 
 think that 1 am going to a place of rest and in 1 
 eternal?"—" To be sure I do," said Betty. 
 
 you firmly believe that I am going to the assembly 
 of the first born; to the spirits of just men made 
 perfect; to God the judge of all ; and to Jesus the 
 Mediator of the new Covenant " I am sure you 
 are," said Betty. " find yet.,"' resumed the dying 
 woman, " you would detain me from all this hap 
 piness; and you think my merciful Father is using 
 me unkindly by removing me from a world of sin] 
 and sorrow, and temptation, to such joys as km 
 not entered inta the heart of man to conceive; 
 while it would have better suited your notions q 
 reward to defer the blessedness of heaven, that I 
 might have enjoyed a legacy of a few huadre) 
 pounds. 
 
 Mrs. Simpson expired soon after in a frame oj 
 mind which convinced her new friend that "God!] 
 ways are not as our ways 
 
 Z 
 
 London: Fainted and Sold ly Howard scd Evaus, 
 
 r,oDg.Hl