ul subject, but here, as
usual, they had two opinions about the same thing. Mr. Bragwell's
notion of a useful subject was, something by which money was to be
got, and a good bargain struck. Mr. Worthy was no less a man of
business than his friend. His schemes were wise, and his
calculations just; his reputation for integrity and good sense made
him the common judge and umpire in his neighbors' affairs, while no
one paid a more exact attention to every transaction of his own. But
the business of getting money was not with him the first, much less
was it the whole concern of the day. He sought, in the _first
place_, 'the kingdom of God and his righteousness.' Every morning
when he rose, he remembered that he had a Maker to worship as well
as a family to maintain. Religion, however, never made him neglect
business, though it sometimes made him postpone it. He used to say,
no man had any reason to expect God's blessing through the day who
did not ask it in the morning; nor was he likely to spend the day in
the fear of God who did not begin it with his worship. But he had
not the less sense, spirit, and activity, when he was among men
abroad, because he had first served God at home.

As these two farmers rode along, Mr. Worthy took occasion, from the
fineness of the day, and the beauty of the country through which
they passed, to turn the discourse to the goodness of God, and our
infinite obligations to him. He knew that the transition from
thanksgiving to prayer would be natural and easy; and he, therefore,
sliding by degrees into that important subject, observed that secret
prayer was a duty of universal obligation, which every man has it in
his power to fulfill, and which he seriously believed was the
ground-work of all religious practice, and of all devout affections.

Mr. Bragwell felt conscious that he was very negligent and irregular
in the performance of this duty; indeed, he considered it as a mere
ceremony, or at least, as a duty which might give way to the
slightest temptation of drowsiness at night, or business in the
morning. As he knew he did not live in the conscientious performance
of this practice, he tried to ward off the subject, knowing what a
home way his friend had of putting things. After some evasion, he at
last said, he certainly thought private prayer a good custom,
especially for people who had time; and that those who were sick, or
old, or out of business, could not do better; but that for his