rtue,
there is no laughter demanded of us when we find the simplicity and
moral dignity of the Vicar meeting and beating the jeers and taunts of
the abandoned wretches in the prison. This is really a remarkable
episode. The author was under the obvious temptation to make much
comic material out of the situation; while another temptation, towards
the goody-goody side, was not far off. But the Vicar undertakes the
duty of reclaiming these castaways with a modest patience and
earnestness in every way in keeping with his character; while they, on
the other hand, are not too easily moved to tears of repentance. His
first efforts, it will be remembered, were not too successful. "Their
insensibility excited my highest compassion, and blotted my own
uneasiness from my mind. It even appeared a duty incumbent upon me to
attempt to reclaim them. I resolved, therefore, once more to return,
and, in spite of their contempt, to give them my advice, and conquer
them by my perseverance. Going, therefore, among them again, I
informed Mr. Jenkinson of my design, at which he laughed heartily, but
communicated it to the rest. The proposal was received with the
greatest good humour, as it promised to afford a new fund of
entertainment to persons who had now no other resource for mirth but
what could be derived from ridicule or debauchery.
"I therefore read them a portion of the service with a loud,
unaffected voice, and found my audience perfectly merry upon the
occasion. Lewd whispers, groans of contrition burlesqued, winking and
coughing, alternately excited laughter. However, I continued with my
natural solemnity to read on, sensible that what I did might mend
some, but could itself receive no contamination from any.
"After reading, I entered upon my exhortation, which was rather
calculated at first to amuse them than to reprove. I previously
observed, that no other motive but their welfare could induce me to
this; that I was their fellow-prisoner, and now got nothing by
preaching. I was sorry, I said, to hear them so very profane; because
they got nothing by it, but might lose a great deal: 'For be assured,
my friends,' cried I,--'for you are my friends, however the world may
disclaim your friendship,--though you swore twelve thousand oaths in
a day, it would not put one penny in your purse. Then what signifies
calling every moment upon the devil, and courting his friendship,
since you find how scurvily he uses you? He has given you
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