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The Pearl/Volume 4/LADY POKINGHAM, OR THEY ALL DO IT.

Giving an Account of her Luxurious Adventures, both before and after her Marriage with Lord Crim-Con

PART III.

(Continued.)

Alice led me by the hand, having closed the door behind us; a cold shiver passed over my frame, but plucking up courage, I never faltered, and we soon found a little green baize door, bolted on our side. "Hush!" she said, "this opens into quite a dark corner, behind the confessional box," as she gently withdrew the bolt, and we then noiselessly entered the chapel into a little kind of passage, between the box and the wall, and fortunately protected from observation by a large open-work screen, which completely hid us, but afforded quite a good view of the interior of the chapel. Guess our astonishment when we beheld both Lady St. Jerome and her niece in earnest conference with the two priests and overheard what passed.

Father Coleman. - "Well, Sister Clare, the Cardinal has ordered that you are to seduce Lothair, by all the arts in your power; every venial sin you may commit is already forgiven."

Monsignore, addressing Lady St. Jerome. - "Yes, and Sister Agatha here will assist you all she can; you know she is a nun, but by the modern policy of Holy Church, we allow certain of the sisters to marry when their union with influential men tends to further the interests of the Church; the secret sisterhood of St. Bridget is one of the most powerful political institutions in the world, because unsuspected, and its members have all sworn to obey with both body and soul; in fact, Sister Clare, this holy sisterhood into which we have just admitted you, by this special faculty from his Eminence, will permit you to enjoy every possible sensual pleasure here upon earth, and insure your heavenly reward as well."

The bright light shows us plainly the blushing face of Clare Arundel, which is turned almost crimson, as the confessor whispers something to her. "Ah! No! No! No! not now," she cried out.

Monsignore. - "The first act of sisterhood is always to do penance directly after admission, and you have taken the oaths to obey both in body and mind, sister Agatha will blindfold you, throw off your robe, and submit your body to the mortification of the flesh."

Lady St. Jerome quickly removed the dressing-gown in which her niece was enveloped, and left the fair girl with nothing but her chemise to cover her beautiful figure; the bandage was speedily adjusted over her lovely eyes, and she was made to kneel on a cushion, and rest her arms and face on the rails of the altar. Father Coleman armed himself with a light scourge of small cords, fixed in a handle, whilst her ladyship turned up the chemise of the victim so as to expose her bottom, thighs, legs and back to his castigation; then she withdrew, and seated herself on the knee of Monsignore, who had made himself comfortable in a large chair close to the victim; he clasped her round the waist, and pressed his lips to hers, whilst their hands seemed to indulge in a mutual groping about each other's private parts.

The scourge fell upon the lovely bottom; each stroke drawing a painful sigh from the victim, and leaving long red weals on the tender flesh.

The confessor continually lectured her on her future duties, and made her promise to do all his commands.

The poor girl's bottom was soon scored all over, and dripping with blood; the sight of which seemed to inflame the others, so that the confessor's affair stood out between the opening of his cassock, whilst Lady St. Jerome spitted herself on the pego of Monsignore, and rode a most gallant St. George as he sat in the chair.

The Confessor. - "Now, sister, for the last mortification of your flesh, you must surrender your virginity to the Church."

Saying which, he produced several fine large cushions, took the bandage from her eyes, and laid her comfortably on her back for his attack, with an extra cushion under her buttocks, in the most approved fashion. Then kneeling down between her thighs, he opened his cassock, and we could see he was almost naked underneath. He laid himself forward on her lovely body, and whispered something in her ear, which was apparently a command to her to take hold of his lustful weapon, for she immediately put down her hand, and seemed (as far as we could see) to direct it to her crack herself. She was evidently fired with lust, and longing to allay the raging heat of the part which had been so cruelly whipped, for she heaved up her bottom to meet his attack, and so seconded his efforts that he speedily forced his way in, and the only evidence of pain on her part was a rather sharp little cry, just as he entered to break through the hymen. They lay for a moment in the enjoyment of the loving conjunction of their parts; but she was impatient, putting her hands on the cheeks of his bottom, and pressing him to herself in a most lascivious manner, and just then Monsignore and Sister Agatha, who had finished their course, got up, and one with the scourge, and the other with a thin cane (after first lifting up his cassock and exposing a brown hairy-looking bottom), began to lay on to Father Coleman in good earnest. Thus stimulated, and begging and crying for them to let him alone, he rammed furiously into Miss Clare, to her evident delight; she wriggled, writhed, and screamed in ecstasy, and gave us such a sight of sensual delirium as I have never seen before or since. At last he seemed to spend into her, and, after a while, withdrew himself from her reluctant embrace, as she seemed to try hard to get him to go on again.

We could see they were preparing to leave the chapel, so thought it time to make our retreat.

Next day we were presented, and nothing in the manner of the lively Lady St. Jerome, or the demure Miss Clare Arundel, would have led anyone to imagine the scene that we had witnessed in the small hours of the morning.

In the evening we were all at the Duchess's ball. Lord Carisbrooke, to whom I was specially introduced, was my partner in the set, in which danced Lothair and Miss Arundel as vis-a-vis to Lady Corisande and the Duke of Brecon.

Bye-and-bye the hero of the evening led me out for the Lancers, and afterwards we strolled into the conservatory, quite unobserved; his conversation was much livelier than I had expected, for Lady St. Jerome had represented to us that he was seriously bent on religion, and about to join the Romish Church. The conservatory was large, and we strolled on till the music and laughter seemed quite at a distance, and coming to a seat with a delightful fountain in front of us we sat down, but just as he was observing, "How delightful it was to withdraw from the whirl of gaiety for a few minutes," we heard some light footsteps approaching, and evidently a very loving couple, the lady exclaiming, with a saucy laugh, "Ah! No! How dare you presume so; I would never be unfaithful to Montairy even in a kiss"; there was a slight struggle, and, "Ah, Monster, what a liberty!" and we heard the smack of lips upon a soft cheek, and then, "Oh! No! Let me go back," but the gentleman evidently remonstrated, as I could hear him say, "Come, come, compose yourself, dear Victoria, a little, there is a seat here by the fountain, you must rest a moment,"

Lothair, with a start, whispered - "They must not catch us here, they'd think we had been eavesdropping; let's hide ourselves and never say a word about it," dragging me by the hand around a corner, where we were well screened by the foliage of the delicious exotics.

My heart was in a flutter, and I could perceive he was greatly moved. We stood motionless, hand in hand, as the lady and gentleman took possession of the cool seat we had just vacated; the latter proved to be the Duke of Brecon. I could see them plainly, and have, no doubt Lothair did also.

Lady Montairy. - "Now, sir, no more of your impudent pranks. Pray let me recover my serenity."

The Duke knelt down and took her hand, which she affectedly tried to withdraw, but he retained it, saying:

"Dearest Victoria, pity my passion. How can I help loving those killing eyes, and luscious pouting lips. That very fact of its being wrong makes my determination the greater to enjoy you the first opportunity. It is useless to resist our fate: Why has the God of Love given me such a chance as this?"

She turns away her head with affected prudery; but not a blush rises to assert her horror at his speech. One hand presses her fingers to his lips; but where is the other? Under her clothes. He first touches her ankle, and slowly steals it up her leg. She fidgets on the seat, but he is impetuous, and soon has possession of her most secret charms. Her languishing eyes are turned on him, and in an instant, he is on his legs, and pushing her clothes up, displays a lovely pair of legs in white silk stockings, beautiful blue garters with gold buckles, her thighs encased in rather tight-fitting drawers, beautifully trimmed with Valenciennes lace. His lips are glued to hers at the same instant, and his hands gently part her yielding thighs, as he placed himself well between them. It is but the work of an instant. He places her hand on the shaft of love, which he has just let out, and it is guided into the haven of love. Both are evidently too hot and impetuous, for it seems to be over in a minute.

She hastily kisses him, and puts down her clothes as she says: "How awful; but I could not resist Your Grace without disordering all my dress. It's been quite a rape, sir," with a smile. "Now, let's make haste back before we are missed." He kisses her, and makes her agree to an assignation, somewhere in South Belgravia, for the morrow, to enjoy each other more at leisure, and then they were gone.

It would be impossible to describe the agitation of my partner during this short scene; Lothair seemed to shiver and shudder with emotion, I was also all of a tremble, and nestled close to him, my arm designedly touching the bunch in his trousers, always so interesting to me; I could feel it swell and seem ready to burst from its confinement; he nervously clasped my hand, and was speechless with emotion all during the scene which I have described; as soon as they were gone he seemed to give a gasp of relief, and led me out of our hiding place. "Poor girl," he said, "what a sight for you, how I trembled for my own honour, lest the scene should make me lose my self-control. Ah! wretched woman, to betray your husband so!" Then looking at me for the first time he said, "Do you not think it is best for a man never to marry?"

Used as I had been to such things, his terrible emotion made me quite sympathize with him, and my own agitation was quite natural, as I replied, "Ah! my Lord, you little know the ways of the world; I saw a more awful scene than what we have witnessed, only last night, enacted by men sworn to perpetual celibacy, and you yourself were mentioned as a victim to their infernal plot."

"My God! Lady, pray tell me what it was," he ejaculated. "Not now, we shall be missed, do you know any place where I can have a private conference with your lordship? If so, meet me to-morrow afternoon at two o'clock, in the Burlington Arcade. I shall come disguised," I answered.

(To be continued.)

A Jew who wanted to get hold of a Miss Bacon, said:

If I took but a slice, Of pig's flesh, so nice, Our rabbis would bluster and take on. But I'd brave all their damns, For a touch at the hams, Of this delicate red and white Bacon.

When Molly the housemaid, who lived at the "Blue Boar," at York, was married to John the Ostler, her mistress gave the poor couple a bedchamber, in a garret, to celebrate their nuptials. But Robert and Harry, who had long well known all Poor Molly's in and outs, were seriously anxious to know the result. They crept to the door, and at last heard Molly exclaim: "Ah! Johnny dearest, you are where man never was before!" "Zounds, Harry!" whispered Robert; "he must have got into her arse."


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The Pearl/Volume 4/SONG.

How lovely did Venus at first seem to be, When her birth she received from the spring of the sea; As red as a rose looked her cunt's lovely rim, And the foam slowly dripped from the hairs of her quim!

Her belly was whiter than marble, I ween, And above it her bubbies like snow balls were seen; But Venus was still discontented, alas, She wanted a prick and two balls at her arse!

Her thighs were so pure, so graceful and round, None fairer and lovelier e'er could be found; But her cunt, I dare say, great pleasure it sips, With a stiff-standing penis to part its red lips!

Oh, poking is a pleasure, we all must enjoy. Tho' I had it for ever, it never would cloy; To any young man on the grass I would fall. And if cunt would allow it, take bollox and all!

license: Creative Commons - Attribution Share-Alike - https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/

title: The Pearl/Volume 4/SONG.


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The Pearl/Volume 4/THE REVERIE.

What dull and senseless lumps we'd be, If never of felicity We tasted; and what bliss is there To equal that of fucking rare?

An age of grief, an age of pain, I would endure and ne'er complain; To purchase but an hour's charms, While wriggling in a maiden's arms!

And hugging her to heavenly rest, My hand reposing on her breast! Her arse my own, her thighs my screen. My penis standing in between!

My bollox hanging down below. And banging 'gainst her arse of snow; Or else grasped firmly in her hand, To make my yard more stiffly stand.

How soon the blood glows in the veins, And nature all its power now strains; The belly heaves, the penis burns. The maiden all its heat returns, Till passion holds triumphant sway. And both the lovers die away.

title: The Pearl/Volume 4/THE REVERIE.


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The Pearl/Volume 4/A MAIDEN'S WISH.

When wishes first enter a maiden's breast. She longs by her lover to be carest; She longs with her lover to do the trick, And in secret she longs for a taste of his prick! Her cunt it is itching from morning till night, The prick of her lover can yield her delight; She longs to be fucked, and for that does deplore, For what can a young maiden wish for more?

If fever or sickness her spirits doth shock, Why, we know what she wants, 'tis a stiff-standing cock! Give her a prick, it will soon make her well, Though perhaps in the long run, her belly may swell! She'd like very well to be laid on the grass. To have two ample bollox sent bang 'gainst her arse; She longs to be fucked, and for that does deplore, For what can a young maiden wish for more?

It's a pity any quim hungry should go, All maids wish them filled, as you very well know, And if the young men would be ready and free, They'd up with their clouts in a trice, d'ye see! She wants to be ask'd, but to ask is afraid, And fearful she is that she'll die an old maid; She wishes for prick, and for that does deplore, For what can a young maiden wish for more?

title: The Pearl/Volume 4/A MAIDEN'S WISH.


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 hands, which trembled all the time with grief and gentleness, and make Jack sit down on the bed whilst he got a cab and carried the traps down to it, and take him downstairs as if he were made of thin glass, and settle with the landlord―then I knew that Jack was all right.

We had a drink together―Joe, Jack, the cabman, and I. Joe was very careful to hand Jack the glass, and Jack made a joke about it for Joe's benefit. He swore he could see a glass yet, and Joe laughed, but looked extra troubled the next moment.

I felt their grips on my hand for five minutes after we parted.


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 d'Ismail Pacha, le Khédiviat d'Égypte, tel qu'il se trouve formé par ses anciennes limites et en y comprenant les territoires qui y ont été annexés.

L'accroissement de la prospérité de l'Égypte et la consolidation de la sécurité et de la tranquillité de ses habitants, constituant I'objet de notre plus haute sollicitude, nous avions rendu, il y a quelque temps, dans ce but, un Firman Impérial qui confirmait aussi les priviléges anciens de cette contree. Cependant quelques-unes des dispositions du susdit Firman ay ant donné lieu aux difficultés actuelles, en vue de confirmer ceux de ces privilegés qui doivent être maintenus intacts, et de corriger et améliorer ceux de ces privileges qui ont paru necessiter quelques modifications, nous avons fait insérer, ci-après, les dispositions suivantes :

Tous les impôts de cette province seront per9us en mon nom. Les habitants d'Égypte étant de mes sujets, et ne devant comme tels subir la moindre oppression ni acte arbitraire, à cette Condition le Khediviat d'Égypte, auquel est confiée l'administration civile, financiere, et judiciaire du pays, aura la faculté d'elaborer et d'etablir, d'une maniire conforme à la justice, tous reglements et lois interieurs necessaires à cet égard.

Le Khedive sera autorise à contracter et a renouveler, sans porter atteinte aux Traites politiques de mon Gouvernement Imperial, ni à ses droits souverains sur ce pays, les Conventions avec les Agents des Puissances Étrangeres pour les douanes et le commerce et pour toutes les transactions avec les etrangers concernant les affaires interieures, et cela dans le but de developper le commerce, l'industrie, et 1'agriculture, et de regler la police des etrangers et tous leurs rapports avec le Gouvernement et la population. Ces Conventions seront communiquées a ma Sublime Porte avant leur promulgation par le Khedive.


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The Pearl/Volume 4/THE JOYS OF COMING TOGETHER.

Tell me where are there such blisses As the sexes can impart? When lips join in heavenly kisses, When they both convulsive start! Throbbing, heaving, Never grieving; Thrusting, bursting, Sighing, dying!

All nature now is in aglow, Now they're coming, oh! oh!! oh!!! Mutual keeping to one tether. Sweet it is to come together! Decrepit age is only teasing. Shrivelled-up pricks, who can abide? Vigorous youth, oh, that is pleasing, It is worth the world beside!

Craving, wanting, Sobbing, panting, Throbbing, heaving, Never grieving, Thrusting, bursting, Sighing, dying! All nature now is in a glow, Now they're coming, oh! oh!! oh!!! Mutual keeping to one tether, Sweet it is to come together.


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The Pearl/Volume 4/NURSERY RHYMES.

A parson who lived near Cremorne Looked down on all women with scorn; E'en a boy's white fat bum; Could not make him come; But an old man's piles gave him the horn.

A cheerful old party of Lucknow, Remarked, "I should like a fuck now!" So he had one and spent, And said, "I'm content! By no means am I so cunt-struck now."

There was a young man of Peru, Who lived upon clap juice and spew; When these palled to his taste, He tried some turd paste, And said that was very good too.

There is a new Baron of Wokingham; The girls say he don't care for poking 'em. Preferring "Minette," What is pleasant, but ye, There is one disadvantage, his choking 'em.

There was an Archbishop of Rheims, Who played with himself in his dreams; On his nightshirt in front, He painted a cunt, Which made his spend gush forth in streams.

There was a young man of Newminster Court. Bugger'd a pig, but his prick was too snort; Said the hog, "It's not nice; But pray take my advice; Make tracks, or by the police you'll be caught."

There was a young man of Cashmere. Who purchased a fine Bayadere! He fucked all her toes. Her mouth, eyes, and her nose, And eventually poxed her left ear.

There was a young party of Bicester, Who wanted to bugger his sister; But not liking dirt. He bought him a squirt, And cleaned out her arse with a clyster.

There was a young man of King's Cross, Who amused himself frigging a horse. Then licking the spend Which still dripped from the end, Said, "It tastes just like anchovy sauce."

A president called Gambetta. Once used an imperfect French Letter; This was not the worst, With disease he got cursed. And he took a long time to get better.

There was a young girl from Vistula, To whom a friend said, "Jef has kissed you, la!" Said she, "Yes, by God! But my arse he can't sod, Because I am troubled with Fistula."

A new patent shoe-horn, for the insertions of big pricks into tight bum-holes, is reported to have been invented by a lady member of the Comedie Francaise, who issaid to place the half skin of a peach, turned inside out, upon the tip of a lover's penis, before he is allowed to enculer his chere amie, who prefers bum-fucking to the old orthodox plan of coition.

"I see you have your everlasting stocking on," said her fond papa, at Southend to a Whitechapel young lady of twelve, who was wading bare-legged on the beach.

"I don't know about that, father, for my arse is covered with the same stuff, and that's got a hole in it."

title: The Pearl/Volume 4/NURSERY RHYMES.


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 passing from the coast between the villages of Susana and Zubci, and terminating at the extreme south-east point of the existing frontier of Montenegro on the Vrsuta Planina The frontier had been agreed upon in principle during the sittings of the Congress by the Austrian and Russian Commissioners (cf. Prot. 12), but details remained to be settled by the Delimitation Commission for Montenegro, on which Capt. Sale was the British representative. It met on 30th April, 1879, but in the face of a protest from the Albanian league, and the practical difficulties of fixing a satisfactory frontier between Gusinje Plava and the plain of Podgoritza, gave up the attempt to carry out the Treaty in this respect, and separated for the winter on 8th September, after having suggested to the Porte an exchange of Kuci Kraina for the Mussulman part of Gusinje Plava. (Parl. Papers, 1880, Turkey, No. 2; N. R. G. 2me Série, v, pp. 351−484). The proposed substitution, known as 'the Corti compromise,' was embodied in a Convention between the Porte and Montenegro, of 12th April, 1880, which was sanctioned by the Powers in a Protocol signed on 18th April. (Parl. Papers, 1880, Turkey, No. 2, 1881, Turkey, No. 1; N. R. G. 2me Série, v, pp. 701, 703). The arrangement failed, in consequence of the Turkish commander not giving due notice of his intention to evacuate the forts on the Podgoritza plain, which thus fell into the hands of the Albanians. The British Consul at Scutari then suggested that Dulcigno should be handed over to Montenegro instead of Kuci Kraina. This proposal, having been accepted by Montenegro, was submitted to the Porte, on 18th August, 1880, and accepted by it, but it was not till 27th November that the place was given up, and then only under the pressure of a naval demonstration of the combined fleets, which took place from 14th September to 5th December. There then remained to be settled only the line of frontier east of the lake of Scutari, but the efforts of the Commissioners of Montenegro and Turkey to accomplish this have been impeded by the resistance of the Albanian tribes. At last, on 29th December, 1884, a Convention was signed at Constantinople, on behalf of Turkey and Montenegro, for delimitation and final settlement to the following effect: The line is drawn from Dulcigno to Planinitza, thence crossing Tomookamen it extends to Mount Golesh, thence to Mokravelika, following the limits of the Christian villages ceded to Montenegro, and afterwards the line traced by Count Corti. .

XXIX. Antivari and its sea-board are annexed to Montenegro under the following conditions:—

The districts situated to the south of that territory, in accordance with the delimitation above laid down, as far as the Boyana, including Dulcinjo, shall be restored to Turkey.

The Commune of Spica, as far as the southernmost part of the territory indicated in the detailed description of the frontiers, shall be incorporated with Dalmatia.

Montenegro shall have full and complete freedom of navigation on the Boyana. No fortifications shall be constructed on


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In one of these years a paragraph appeared in a daily paper to the effect that a constable had discovered a little boy asleep on the steps of Grinder Bros.' factory at four o'clock one rainy morning. He awakened him, and demanded an explanation.

The little fellow explained that he worked there, and was frightened of being late; he started work at six, and was apparently greatly astonished to hear that it was only four. The constable examined a small parcel which the frightened child had in his hand. It contained a clean apron and three slices of bread and treacle.

The child further explained that he woke up and thought it was late, and didn't like to wake mother and ask her the time 'because she'd been washin'.' He didn't look at the clock, because they 'didn't have one.' He volunteered no explanation as to how he expected mother to know the time, but, perhaps, like many other mites of his kind, he had unbounded faith in the infinitude of a mother's wisdom. His name was Arvie Aspinall, please, sir, and he lived in Jones's Alley. Father was dead.

A few days later the same paper took great pleasure 78


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 the course of that river except such as may be necessary for the local defence of the stronghold of Scutari, and they shall not extend beyond a distance of 6 kilom. from that town.

Montenegro shall have neither ships of war nor flag of war.

The port of Antivari and all the waters of Montenegro shall remain closed to the ships of war of all nations.

The fortifications situated on Montenegrin territory between the lake and the coast shall be razed, and none shall be rebuilt within this zone.

The administration of the maritime and sanitary police, both at Antivari and along the coast of Montenegro, shall be carried out by Austria-Hungary by means of light coast-guard boats.

Montenegro shall adopt the maritime code in force in Dalmatia. On her side Austria-Hungary undertakes to grant Consular protection to the Montenegrin merchant flag. Montenegro shall come to an understanding with Austria-Hungary on the right to construct and keep up across the new Montenegrin territory a road and a railway.

Absolute freedom of communication shall be guaranteed on these roads.

XXX. Mussulmans or others possessing property in the territories annexed to Montenegro, who may wish to take up their residence outside the Principality, can retain their real property either by farming it out, or by having it administered by third parties.

No one shall be liable to be expropriated otherwise than by legal process for the public welfare, and with a previous indemnity.

A Turco-Montenegrin Commission shall be appointed to settle, within a period of three years, all questions relative to the mode of alienation, working, or use, on the account of the Sublime Porte, of property belonging to the State and religious foundations (Vakoufs), as well as of the questions regarding the interests of private parties engaged therein.

XXXI. The Principality of Montenegro shall come to a direct understanding with the Ottoman Porte with regard


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 to the establishment of Montenegrin agents at Constantinople, and at certain places in the Ottoman Empire where the necessity for them shall be admitted.

Montenegrins travelling or residing in the Ottoman Empire shall be subject to the Ottoman laws and authorities, according to the general principles of international law and the customs established with regard to Montenegrins.

XXXII. The Montenegrin troops shall he bound to evacuate within twenty days from the date of the ratification of the present Treaty, or sooner if possible, the territory that they occupy at present beyond the new limits of the Principality.

''The Ottoman troops shall evacuate the territories ceded to Montenegro within the same period of twenty days. A supplementary period of fifteen days shall, however, he granted to them, as well for evacuating the fortresses and withdrawing the stores and material of war from them, as for drawing up inventories of the implements and articles which cannot he immediately removed''.

XXXIII. As Montenegro is to bear a portion of the Ottoman public debt for the new territories assigned to her by the Treaty of Peace, the Representatives of the Powers at Constantinople shall determine the amount of the same in concert with the Sublime Porte on an equitable basis.

34−42.

XXXIV. The High Contracting Parties recognize the independence of the Principality of Servia, subject to the conditions set forth in the following Article.

XXXV. In Servia the difference of religious creeds Conditions, and confessions shall not be alleged against any person as a ground for exclusion or incapacity in matters relating to the enjoyment of civil and political rights, admission to public


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 in stating, in reference to that 'Touching Incident' noticed in a recent issue, that a benevolent society lady had started a subscription among her friends with the object of purchasing an alarm clock for the little boy found asleep at Grinder Bros.' workshop door.

Later on, it was mentioned, in connection with the touching incident, that the alarm-clock had been bought and delivered to the boy's mother, who appeared to be quite overcome with gratitude. It was learned, also, from another source, that the last assertion was greatly exaggerated.

The touching incident was worn out in another paragraph, which left no doubt that the benevolent society lady was none other than a charming and accomplished daughter of the House of Grinder.

It was late in the last day of the Easter holidays, during which Arvie Aspinall had lain in bed with a bad cold. He was still what he called 'croopy.' It was about nine o'clock, and the business of Jones's Alley was in full swing.

'That's better, mother, I'm far better,' said Arvie, 'the sugar and vinegar cuts the phlegm, and the both'rin' cough gits out.' It got out to such an extent for the next few minutes that he could not speak. When he recovered his breath, he said:

'Better or worse, I'll have ter go to work to-morrow. Gimme the clock, mother.'

'I tell you you shall not go! It will be your death.'

'It's no use talking, mother; we can't starve―and―sposin' somebody got my place! Gimme the clock mother.'

F


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 'I'll send one of the children round to say you're ill. They'll surely let you off for a day or two.'

'’Taint no use; they won't wait; I know them―what does Grinder Bros. care if I'm ill?. [sic] Never mind, mother, I'll rise above 'em all yet. Give me the clock, mother.'

She gave him the clock, and he proceeded to wind it up and set the alarm.

'There's somethin' wrong with the gong,' he muttered, 'it's gone wrong two nights now, but I'll chance it. I'll set the alarm at five, that'll give me time to dress and git there early. I wish I hadn't to walk so far.'

He paused to read some words engraved round the dial:―

He had read the verse often before, and was much taken with the swing and rhyme of it. He had repeated it to himself, over and over again, without reference to the sense or philosophy of it. He had never dreamed of doubting anything in print―and this was engraved. But now a new light seemed to dawn upon him. He studied the sentence awhile, and then read it aloud for the second time. He turned it over in his mind again in silence.

'Mother!' he said suddenly, 'I think it lies.' She placed the clock on the shelf, tucked him into his little bed on the sofa, and blew out the light.

Arvie seemed to sleep, but she lay awake thinking of her troubles. Of her husband carried home dead from his work one morning; of her eldest son who


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 only came to loaf on her when he was out of gaol; of the second son, who had feathered his nest in another city, and had no use for her any longer; of the next―poor delicate little Arvie―struggling manfully to help, and wearing his young life out at Grinder Bros. when he should be at school; of the five helpless younger children asleep in the next room: of her hard life―scrubbing floors from half-past five till eight, and then starting her day's work―washing!―of having to rear her children in the atmosphere of brothels, because she could not afford to move and pay a higher rent; and of the rent.

Arvie commenced to mutter in his sleep.

'Can't you get to sleep, Arvie?' she asked. 'Is your throat sore? Can I get anything for you?'

'I'd like to sleep,' he muttered, dreamily, 'but it won't seem more'n a moment before―before'

'Before what, Arvie?' she asked, quickly, fearing that he was becoming delirious.

'Before the alarm goes off!'

He was talking in his sleep.

She rose gently and put the alarm on two hours. 'He can rest now,' she whispered to herself.

Presently Arvie sat bolt upright, and said quickly, 'Mother! I thought the alarm went off!' Then, without waiting for an answer, he lay down as suddenly and slept.

The rain had cleared away, and a bright, starry dome was over sea and city, over slum and villa alike; but little of it could be seen from the hovel in Jones's Alley, save a glimpse of the Southern Cross and a few stars round it. It was what ladies call a 'lovely


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A Dissertation on Liberty and Necessity, Pleasure and Pain

"Whatever is, is in its Causes just Since all Things are by Fate; but purblind Man Sees but a part o' th' Chain, the nearest Link, His Eyes not carrying to the equal Beam That poises all above. Dryd."

To Mr. J. R.

SIR,

I have here, according to your Request, given you my present Thoughts of the general State of Things in the Universe. Such as they are, you have them, and are welcome to 'em; and if they yield you any Pleasure or Satisfaction, I shall think my Trouble sufficiently compensated. I know my Scheme will be liable to many Objections from a less discerning Reader than your self; but it is not design'd for those who can't understand it. I need not give you any Caution to distinguish the hypothetical Parts of the Argument from the conclusive: You will easily perceive what I design for Demonstration, and what for Probability only. The whole I leave entirely to you, and shall value my self more or less on this account, in proportion to your Esteem and Approbation.

SECT. I. Of Liberty and Necessity.

I. There is said to be a First Mover, who is called ''GOD, Maker of the Universe. ''

II. He is said to be all-wise, all-good, all powerful.

These two Propositions being allow'd and asserted by People of almost every Sect and Opinion; I have here suppos'd them granted, and laid them down as the Foundation of my Argument; What follows then, being a Chain of Consequences truly drawn from them, will stand or fall as they are true or false.

III. If He is all-good, whatsoever He doth must be good.

IV. If He is all-wise, whatsoever He doth must be wise.

The Truth of these Propositions, with relation to the two first, I think may be justly call'd evident; since, either that infinite Goodness will act what is ill, or infinite Wisdom what is not wise, is too glaring a Contradiction not to be perceiv'd by any Man of common Sense, and deny'd as soon as understood.

V. If He is all-powerful, there can be nothing either existing or acting in the Universe against or without his Consent; and what He consents to must be good, because He is good; therefore Evil doth not exist.

Unde Malum? has been long a Question, and many of the Learned have perplex'd themselves and Readers to little Purpose in Answer to it. That there are both Things and Actions to which we give the Name of Evil, is not here deny'd, as Pain, Sickness, Want, Theft, Murder, &c. but that these and the like are not in reality Evils, Ills, or Defects in the Order of the Universe, is demonstrated in the next Section, as well as by this and the following Proposition. Indeed, to suppose any Thing to exist or be done, contrary to the Will of the Almighty, is to suppose him not almighty; or that Something (the Cause of Evil) is more mighty than the Almighty; an Inconsistence that I think no One will defend: And to deny any Thing or Action, which he consents to the existence of, to be good, is entirely to destroy his two Attributes of Wisdom and Goodness.

There is nothing done in the Universe, say the Philosophers, but what God either does, or permits to be done. This, as He is Almighty, is certainly true: But what need of this Distinction between doing and permitting? Why, first they take it for granted that many Things in the Universe exist in such a Manner as is not for the best, and that many Actions are done which ought not to be done, or would be better undone; these Things or Actions they cannot ascribe to God as His, because they have already attributed to Him infinite Wisdom and Goodness; Here then is the Use of the Word Permit ; He permits them to be done, say they. But we will reason thus: If God permits an Action to be done, it is because he wants either Power or Inclination to hinder it; in saying he wants Power, we deny Him to be almighty ; and if we say Hewants Inclination or Will, it must be, either because He is not Good, or the Action is not evil, (for all Evil is contrary to the Essence of infinite Goodness.) The former is inconsistent with his before-given Attribute of Goodness, therefore the latter must be true.

It will be said, perhaps, that God permits evil Actions to be done, for wise Ends and Purposes. But this Objection destroys itself; for whatever an infinitely good God hath wise Ends in suffering to be, must be good, is thereby made good, and cannot be otherwise.

VI. If a Creature is made by God, it must depend upon God, and receive all its Power from Him; with which Power the Creature can do nothing contrary to the Will of God, because God is Almighty; what is not contrary to His Will, must be agreeable to it; what is agreeable to it, must be good, because He is Good; therefore a Creature can do nothing but what is good.

This Proposition is much to the same Purpose with the former, but more particular; and its Conclusion is as just and evident. Tho' a Creature may do many Actions which by his Fellow Creatures will be nam'd Evil, and which will naturally and necessarily cause or bring upon the Doer, certain Pains (which will likewise be call'd Punishments ;) yet this Proposition proves, that he cannot act what will be in itself really Ill, or displeasing to God. And that the painful Consequences of his evil Actions ( so call'd) are not, as indeed they ought not to be, Punishments or Unhappinesses, will be shewn hereafter.

Nevertheless, the late learned Author of The Religion of Nature, (which I send you herewith) has given us a Rule or Scheme, whereby to discover which of our Actions ought to be esteem'd and denominated good, and which evil : It is in short this, "Every Action which is done according to Truth, is good; and every Action contrary to Truth, is evil: To act according to Truth is to use and esteem every Thing as what it is, &c. Thus if A steals a Horse from B, and rides away upon him, he uses him not as what he is in Truth, viz. the Property of another, but as his own, which is contrary to Truth, and therefore evil". But, as this Gentleman himself says, (Sect. I. Prop. VI.) "In order to judge rightly what any Thing is, it must be consider'd, not only what it is in one Respect, but also what it may be in any other Respect; and the whole Description of the Thing ought to be taken in:" So in this Case it ought to be consider'd, that A is naturally a covetous Being, feeling an Uneasiness in the want of B's Horse, which produces an Inclination for stealing him, stronger than his Fear of Punishment for so doing. This is Truth likewise, and A acts according to it when he steals the Horse. Besides, if it is prov'd to be a Truth, that A has not Power over his own Actions, it will be indisputable that he acts according to Truth, and impossible he should do otherwise.

I would not be understood by this to encourage or defend Theft; 'tis only for the sake of the Argument, and will certainly have no ill Effect. The Order and Course of Things will not be affected by Reasoning of this Kind; and 'tis as just and necessary, and as much according to Truth, for B to dislike and punish the Theft of his Horse, as it is for A to steal him.

VII. If the Creature is thus limited in his Actions, being able to do only such Things as God would have him to do, and not being able to refuse doing what God would have done; then he can have no such Thing as Liberty, Free-will or Power to do or refrain an Action.

By Liberty is sometimes understood the Absence of Opposition; and in this Sense, indeed, all our Actions may be said to be the Effects of our Liberty: But it is a Liberty of the same Nature with the Fall of a heavy Body to the Ground; it has Liberty to fall, that is, it meets with nothing to hinder its Fall, but at the same Time it is necessitated to fall, and has no Power or Liberty to remain suspended.

But let us take the Argument in another View, and suppose ourselves to be, in the common sense of the Word, Free Agents. As Man is a Part of this great Machine, the Universe, his regular Acting is requisite to the regular moving of the whole. Among the many Things which lie before him to be done, he may, as he is at Liberty and his Choice influenc'd by nothing, (for so it must be, or he is not at Liberty) chuse any one, and refuse the rest. Now there is every Moment something best to be done, which is alone then good, and with respect to which, every Thing else is at that Time evil. In order to know which is best to be done, and which not, it is requisite that we should have at one View all the intricate Consequences of every Action with respect to the general Order and Scheme of the Universe, both present and future; but they are innumerable and incomprehensible by any Thing but Omniscience. As we cannot know these, we have but as one Chance to ten thousand, to hit on the right Action; we should then be perpetually blundering about in the Dark, and putting the Scheme in Disorder; for every wrong Action of a Part, is a Defect or Blemish in the Order of the Whole. Is it not necessary then, that our Actions should be over-rul'd and govern'd by an all-wise Providence? -- How exact and regular is every Thing in the natural World! How wisely in every Part contriv'd! We cannot here find the least Defect! Those who have study'd the mere animal and vegetable Creation, demonstrate that nothing can be more harmonious and beautiful! All the heavenly Bodies, the Stars and Planets, are regulated with the utmost Wisdom! And can we suppose less Care to be taken in the Order of the moral than in the natural System? It is as if an ingenious Artificer, having fram'd a curious Machine or Clock, and put its many intricate Wheels and Powers in such a Dependance on one another, that the whole might move in the most exact Order and Regularity, had nevertheless plac'd in it several other Wheels endu'd with an independent Self-Motion, but ignorant of the general Interest of the Clock; and these would every now and then be moving wrong, disordering the true Movement, and making continual Work for the Mender; which might better be prevented, by depriving them of that Power of Self-Motion, and placing them in a Dependance on the regular Part of the Clock.

VIII. If there is no such Thing as Free-Will in Creatures, there can be neither Merit nor Demerit in Creatures.

IX. And therefore every Creature must be equally esteem'd by the Creator.

These Propositions appear to be the necessary Consequences of the former. And certainly no Reason can be given, why the Creator should prefer in his Esteem one Part of His Works to another, if with equal Wisdom and Goodness he design'd and created them all, since all Ill or Defect, as contrary to his Nature, is excluded by his Power. We will sum up the Argument thus, When the Creator first design'd the Universe, either it was His Will and Intention that all Things should exist and be in the Manner they are at this Time; or it was his Will they should be otherwise i. e. in a different Manner: To say it was His Will Things should be otherwise than they are, is to say Somewhat hath contradicted His Will, and broken His Measures, which is impossible because inconsistent with his Power; therefore we must allow that all Things exist now in a Manner agreeable to His Will, and in consequence of that are all equally Good, and therefore equally esteem'd by Him.

I proceed now to shew, that as all the Works of the Creator are equally esteem'd by Him, so they are, as in Justice they ought to be, equally us'd.

SECT. II. Of Pleasure and Pain.

I. When a Creature is form'd and endu'd with Life, 'tis suppos'd to receive a Capacity of the Sensation of Uneasiness or Pain.

It is this distinguishes Life and Consciousness from unactive unconscious Matter. To know or be sensible of Suffering or being acted upon is to live ; and whatsoever is not so, among created Things, is properly and truly dead.

All Pain and Uneasiness proceeds at first from and is caus'd by Somewhat without and distinct from the Mind itself. The Soul must first be acted upon before it can re-act. In the Beginning of Infancy it is as if it were not; it is not conscious of its own Existence, till it has receiv'd the first Sensation of Pain ; then, and not before, it begins to feel itself, is rous'd, and put into Action; then it discovers its Powers and Faculties, and exerts them to expel the Uneasiness. Thus is the Machine set on work; this is Life. We are first mov'd by Pain, and the whole succeeding Course of our Lives is but one continu'd Series of Action with a View to be freed from it. As fast as we have excluded one Uneasiness another appears, otherwise the Motion would cease. If a continual Weight is not apply'd, the Clock will stop. And as soon as the Avenues of Uneasiness to the Soul are choak'd up or cut off, we are dead, we think and act no more.

II. This Uneasiness, whenever felt, produces Desire to be freed from it, great in exact proportion to the Uneasiness.

Thus is Uneasiness the first Spring and Cause of all Action; for till we are uneasy in Rest, we can have no Desire to move, and without Desire of moving there can be no voluntary Motion. The Experience of every Man who has observ'd his own Actions will evince the Truth of this; and I think nothing need be said to prove that the Desire will be equal to the Uneasiness, for the very Thing implies as much: It is not Uneasiness unless we desire to be freed from it, nor a great Uneasiness unless the consequent Desire is great.

I might here observe, how necessary a Thing in the Order and Design of the Universe this Pain or Uneasiness is, and how beautiful in its Place! Let us but suppose it just now banish'd the World entirely, and consider the Consequence of it: All the Animal Creation would immediately stand stock still, exactly in the Posture they were in the Moment Uneasiness departed; not a Limb, not a Finger would henceforth move; we should all be reduc'd to the Condition of Statues, dull and unactive: Here I should continue to sit motionless with the Pen in my Hand thus -- and neither leave my Seat nor write one Letter more. This may appear odd at first View, but a little Consideration will make it evident; for 'tis impossible to assign any other Cause for the voluntary Motion of an Animal than its uneasiness in Rest. What a different Appearance then would the Face of Nature make, without it! How necessary is it! And how unlikely that the Inhabitants of the World ever were, or that the Creator ever design'd they should be, exempt from it!

I would likewise observe here, that the VIIIth Proposition in the preceding Section, viz. That there is neither Merit nor Demerit, &c. is here again demonstrated, as infallibly, tho' in another manner: For since Freedom from Uneasiness is the End of all our Actions, how is it possible for us to do any Thing disinterested? -- How can any Action be meritorious of Praise or Dispraise, Reward or Punishment, when the natural Principle of Self-Love is the only and the irresistible Motive to it?

III. This Desire is always fulfill'd or satisfy'd,

In the Design or End of it, tho' not in the Manner : The first is requisite, the latter not. To exemplify this, let us make a Supposition; A Person is confin'd in a House which appears to be in imminent Danger of Falling, this, as soon as perceiv'd, creates a violent Uneasiness, and that instantly produces an equal strong Desire, the End of which is freedom from the Uneasiness, and the Manner or Way propos'd to gain this End, is to get out of the House. Now if he is convinc'd by any Means, that he is mistaken, and the House is not likely to fall, he is immediately freed from his Uneasiness, and the End of his Desire is attain'd as well as if it had been in the Manner desir'd, viz. leaving the House.

All our different Desires and Passions proceed from and are reducible to this one Point, Uneasiness, tho' the Means we propose to ourselves for expelling of it are infinite. One proposes Fame, another Wealth, a third Power, &c. as the Means to gain this End ; but tho' these are never attain'd, if the Uneasiness be remov'd by some other Means, the Desire is satisfy'd. Now during the Course of Life we are ourselves continually removing successive Uneasinesses as they arise, and the last we suffer is remov'd by the sweet Sleep of Death.

IV. The fulfilling or Satisfaction of this Desire, produces the Sensation of Pleasure, great or small in exact proportion to the Desire.

Pleasure is that Satisfaction which arises in the Mind upon, and is caus'd by, the accomplishment of our Desires, and by no other Means at all; and those Desires being above shewn to be caus'd by our Pains or Uneasinesses, it follows that Pleasure is wholly caus'd by Pain, and by no other Thing at all.

V. Therefore the Sensation of Pleasure is equal, or in exact proportion to the Sensation of Pain.

As the Desire of being freed from Uneasiness is equal to the Uneasiness, and the Pleasure of satisfying that Desire equal to the Desire, the Pleasure thereby produc'd must necessarily be equal to the Uneasiness or Pain which produces it: Of three Lines, A, B, and C, if A is equal to B, and B to C, C must be equal to A. And as our Uneasinesses are always remov'd by some Means or other, it follows that Pleasure and Pain are in their Nature inseparable: So many Degrees as one Scale of the Ballance descends, so many exactly the other ascends; and one cannot rise or fall without the Fall or Rise of the other: 'Tis impossible to taste of Pleasure, without feeling its preceding proportionate Pain ; or to be sensible of Pain, without having its necessary Consequent Pleasure : The highest Pleasure is only Consciousness of Freedom from the deepest Pain, and Pain is not Pain to us unless we ourselves are sensible of it. They go Hand in Hand; they cannot be divided.

You have a View of the whole Argument in a few familiar Examples: The Pain of Abstinence from Food, as it is greater or less, produces a greater or less Desire of Eating, the Accomplishment of this Desire produces a greater or less Pleasure proportionate to it. The Pain of Confinement causes the Desire of Liberty, which accomplish'd, yields a Pleasure equal to that Pain of Confinement. The Pain of Labour and Fatigue causes the Pleasure of Rest, equal to that Pain. The Pain of Absence from Friends, produces the Pleasure of Meeting in exact proportion. &c.

This is the fixt Nature of Pleasure and Pain, and will always be found to be so by those who examine it.

One of the most common Arguments for the future Existence of the Soul, is taken from the generally suppos'd Inequality of Pain and Pleasure in the present; and this, notwithstanding the Difficulty by outward Appearances to make a Judgment of another's Happiness, has been look'd upon as almost unanswerable: but since Pain naturally and infallibly produces a Pleasure in proportion to it, every individual Creature must, in any State of Life, have an equal Quantity of each, so that there is not, on that Account, any Occasion for a future Adjustment.

Thus are all the Works of the Creator equally us'd by him; And no Condition of Life or Being is in itself better or preferable to another: The Monarch is not more happy than the Slave, nor the Beggar more miserable than Croesus. Suppose A, B, and C, three distinct Beings; A and B, animate, capable of Pleasure and Pain, C an inanimate Piece of Matter, insensible of either. A receives ten Degrees of Pain, which are necessarily succeeded by ten Degrees of Pleasure : B receives fifteen of Pain, and the consequent equal Number of Pleasure : C all the while lies unconcern'd, and as he has not suffer'd the former, has no right to the latter. What can be more equal and just than this? When the Accounts come to be adjusted, A has no Reason to complain that his Portion of Pleasure was five Degrees less than that of B, for his Portion of Pain was five Degrees less likewise: Nor has B any Reason to boast that his Pleasure was five Degrees greater than that of A, for his Pain was proportionate: They are then both on the same Foot with C, that is, they are neither Gainers nor Losers.

It will possibly be objected here, that even common Experience shews us, there is not in Fact this Equality: "Some we see hearty, brisk and chearful perpetually, while others are constantly burden'd with a heavy Load of Maladies and Misfortunes, remaining for Years perhaps in Poverty, Disgrace, or Pain, and die at last without any Appearance of Recompence." Now tho' 'tis not necessary, when a Proposition is demonstrated to be a general Truth, to shew in what manner it agrees with the particular Circumstances of Persons, and indeed ought not to be requir'd; yet, as this is a common Objection, some Notice may be taken of it: And here let it be observ'd, that we cannot be proper Judges of the good or bad Fortune of Others; we are apt to imagine, that what would give us a great Uneasiness or a great Satisfaction, has the same Effect upon others: we think, for Instance, those unhappy, who must depend upon Charity for a mean Subsistence, who go in Rags, fare hardly, and are despis'd and scorn'd by all; not considering that Custom renders all these Things easy, familiar, and even pleasant. When we see Riches, Grandeur and a chearful Countenance, we easily imagine Happiness accompanies them, when oftentimes 'tis quite otherwise: Nor is a constantly sorrowful Look, attended with continual Complaints, an infallible Indication of Unhappiness. In short, we can judge by nothing but Appearances, and they are very apt to deceive us. Some put on a gay chearful Outside, and appear to the World perfectly at Ease, tho' even then, some inward Sting, some secret Pain imbitters all their Joys, and makes the Ballance even: Others appear continually dejected and full of Sorrow; but even Grief itself is sometimes pleasant, and Tears are not always without their Sweetness: Besides, Some take a Satisfaction in being thought unhappy, (as others take a Pride in being thought humble,) these will paint their Misfortunes to others in the strongest Colours, and leave no Means unus'd to make you think them thoroughly miserable; so great a Pleasure it is to them to be pitied ; Others retain the Form and outside Shew of Sorrow, long after the Thing itself, with its Cause, is remov'd from the Mind; it is a Habit they have acquir'd and cannot leave. These, with many others that might be given, are Reasons why we cannot make a true Estimate of the Equality of the Happiness and Unhappiness of others; and unless we could, Matter of Fact cannot be opposed to this Hypothesis. Indeed, we are sometimes apt to think, that the Uneasinesses we ourselves have had, outweigh our Pleasures; but the Reason is this, the Mind takes no Account of the latter, they slip away un-remark'd, when the former leave more lasting Impressions on the Memory. But suppose we pass the greatest part of Life in Pain and Sorrow, suppose we die by Torments and think no more, 'tis no Diminution to the Truth of what is here advanc'd; for the Pain, tho' exquisite, is not so to the last Moments of Life, the Senses are soon benumm'd, and render'd incapable of transmitting it so sharply to the Soul as at first; She perceives it cannot hold long, and 'tis an exquisite Pleasure to behold the immediate Approaches of Rest. This makes an Equivalent tho' Annihilation should follow: For the Quantity of Pleasure and Pain is not to be measur'd by its Duration, any more than the Quantity of Matter by its Extension; and as one cubic Inch may be made to contain, by Condensation, as much Matter as would fill ten thousand cubic Feet, being more expanded, so one single Moment of Pleasure may outweigh and compensate an Age of Pain.

It was owing to their Ignorance of the Nature of Pleasure and Pain that the Antient Heathens believ'd the idle Fable of their Elizium, that State of uninterrupted Ease and Happiness! The Thing is intirely impossible in Nature! Are not the Pleasures of the Spring made such by the Disagreeableness of the Winter? Is not the Pleasure of fair Weather owing to the Unpleasantness of foul? Certainly. Were it then always Spring, were the Fields always green and flourishing, and the Weather constantly serene and fair, the Pleasure would pall and die upon our Hands; it would cease to be Pleasure to us, when it is not usher'd in by Uneasiness. Could the Philosopher visit, in reality, every Star and Planet with as much Ease and Swiftness as he can now visit their Ideas, and pass from one to another of them in the Imagination; it would be a Pleasure I grant; but it would be only in proportion to the Desire of accomplishing it, and that would be no greater than the Uneasiness suffer'd in the Want of it. The Accomplishment of a long and difficult Journey yields a great Pleasure ; but if we could take a Trip to the Moon and back again, as frequently and with as much Ease as we can go and come from Market, the Satisfaction would be just the same.

The Immateriality of the Soul has been frequently made use of as an Argument for its Immortality ; but let us consider, that tho' it should be allow'd to be immaterial, and consequently its Parts incapable of Separation or Destruction by any Thing material, yet by Experience we find, that it is not incapable of Cessation of Thought, which is its Action. When the Body is but a little indispos'd it has an evident Effect upon the Mind; and a right Disposition of the Organs is requisite to a right Manner of Thinking. In a sound Sleep sometimes, or in a Swoon, we cease to think at all; tho' the Soul is not therefore then annihilated, but exists all the while tho' it does not act ; and may not this probably be the Case after Death? All our Ideas are first admitted by the Senses and imprinted on the Brain, increasing in Number by Observation and Experience; there they become the Subjects of the Soul's Action. The Soul is a mere Power or Faculty of contemplating on, and comparing those Ideas when it has them; hence springs Reason: But as it can think on nothing but Ideas, it must have them before it can think at all. Therefore as it may exist before it has receiv'd any Ideas, it may exist before it thinks. To remember a Thing, is to have the Idea of it still plainly imprinted on the Brain, which the Soul can turn to and contemplate on Occasion. To forget a Thing, is to have the Idea of it defac'd and destroy'd by some Accident, or the crouding in and imprinting of great variety of other Ideas upon it, so that the Soul cannot find out its Traces and distinguish it. When we have thus lost the Idea of any one Thing, we can think no more, or cease to think, on that Thing; and as we can lose the Idea of one Thing, so we may of ten, twenty, a hundred, &c. and even of all Things, because they are not in their Nature permanent; and often during Life we see that some Men, (by an Accident or Distemper affecting the Brain,) lose the greatest Part of their Ideas, and remember very little of their past Actions and Circumstances. Now upon Death, and the Destruction of the Body, the Ideas contain'd in the Brain, (which are alone the Subjects of the Soul's Action) being then likewise necessarily destroy'd, the Soul, tho' incapable of Destruction itself, must then necessarily cease to think or act, having nothing left to think or act upon. It is reduc'd to its first inconscious State before it receiv'd any Ideas. And to cease to think is but little different from ceasing to be.

Nevertheless, 'tis not impossible that this same Faculty of contemplating Ideas may be hereafter united to a new Body, and receive a new Set of Ideas; but that will no way concern us who are now living; for the Identity will be lost, it is no longer that same Self but a new Being.

I shall here subjoin a short Recapitulation of the Whole, that it may with all its Parts be comprehended at one View.

1. It is suppos'd that God the Maker and Governour of the Universe, is infinitely wise, good, and powerful.

2. In consequence of His infinite Wisdom and Goodness, it is asserted, that whatever He doth must be infinitely wise and good;

3. Unless He be interrupted, and His Measures broken by some other Being, which is impossible because He is Almighty.

4. In consequence of His infinite Power, it is asserted, that nothing can exist or be done in the Universe which is not agreeable to His Will, and therefore good.

5. Evil is hereby excluded, with all Merit and Demerit; and likewise all preference in the Esteem of God, of one Part of the Creation to another. This is the Summary of the first Part.

Now our common Notions of Justice will tell us, that if all created Things are equally esteem'd by the Creator, they ought to be equally us'd by Him; and that they are therefore equally us'd, we might embrace for Truth upon the Credit, and as the true Consequence of the foregoing Argument. Nevertheless we proceed to confirm it, by shewing how they are equally us'd, and that in the following Manner.

1. A Creature when endu'd with Life or Consciousness, is made capable of Uneasiness or Pain.

2. This Pain produces Desire to be freed from it, in exact proportion to itself.

3. The Accomplishment of this Desire produces an equal Pleasure.

4. Pleasure is consequently equal to Pain.

From these Propositions it is observ'd,

1. That every Creature hath as much Pleasure as Pain.

2. That Life is not preferable to Insensibility; for Pleasure and Pain destroy one another: That Being which has ten Degrees of Pain subtracted from ten of Pleasure, has nothing remaining, and is upon an equality with that Being which is insensible of both.

3. As the first Part proves that all Things must be equally us'd by the Creator because equally esteem'd; so this second Part demonstrates that they are equally esteem'd because equally us'd.

4. Since every Action is the Effect of Self-Uneasiness, the Distinction of Virtue and Vice is excluded; and Prop. VIII. in Sect. I. again demonstrated.

5. No State of Life can be happier than the present, because Pleasure and Pain are inseparable.

Thus both Parts of this Argument agree with and confirm one another, and the Demonstration is reciprocal.

I am sensible that the Doctrine here advanc'd, if it were to be publish'd, would meet with but an indifferent Reception. Mankind naturally and generally love to be flatter'd: Whatever sooths our Pride, and tends to exalt our Species above the rest of the Creation, we are pleas'd with and easily believe, when ungrateful Truths shall be with the utmost Indignation rejected. "What! bring ourselves down to an Equality with the Beasts of the Field! with the meanest part of the Creation! 'Tis insufferable!" But, (to use a Piece of common Sense) our Geese are but Geese tho' we may think 'em Swans ; and Truth will be Truth tho' it sometimes prove mortifying and distasteful.

London, 1725


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 night,' as seen from the house of Grinder―'Grinderville'―with its moonlit terraces and gardens sloping gently to the water, and its windows lit up for an Easter ball, and its reception-rooms thronged by its own exclusive set, and one of its charming and accomplished daughters melting a select party to tears by her pathetic recitation about a little crossing sweeper.

There was something wrong with the alarm-clock, or else Mrs. Aspinall had made a mistake, for the gong sounded startlingly in the dead of night. She woke with a painful start, and lay still, expecting to hear Arvie get up; but he made no sign. She turned a white, frightened face towards the sofa where he lay―the light from the alley's solitary lamp on the pavement above shone down through the window, and she saw that he had not moved.

Why didn't the clock wake him? He was such a light sleeper! 'Arvie!' she called; no answer. 'Arvie!' she called again, with a strange ring of remonstrance mingling with the terror in her voice. Arvie never answered.

'Oh! my God!' she moaned.

She rose and stood by the sofa. Arvie lay on his back with his arms folded―a favourite sleeping position of his; but his eyes were wide open and staring upwards as though they would stare through ceiling and roof to the place where God ought to be.

He was dead.

'My God! My God!' she cried.