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THE DIVINE MODEL: OR, CHRISTIAN's EXEMPLAR. TO WHICH IS ADDED, THE DRAM-SHOP.

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DUBLIN: SOLD BY WILLIAM WATSON, No. 7, Capel-Street,

Printer to the Cheap Repoſitory for Religious and Moral Tracts

And by the BOOKSELLERS, CHAPMEN and HAWKERS in Town and Country.

PRICE ONE PENNY

THE DIVINE MODEL, &c.

[]

"ENDEAVOUR to imitate your Saviour," ſaid Mrs. Bingham, one evening, to her maid Martha, whom ſhe was carefully inſtructing in the duties of religion. "Imitate my Saviour!" repeated Martha; "dear Madam! I thought he was ſo much raiſed above us, that it would be quite preſumptuous to try to be like him."

"It is true, Martha," replied Mrs. Bingham, "we can never be as perfect as our divine Maſter, but the nearer we approach to the example he has ſet us, the better we ſhall be at all ages, and in every ſituation of life. When you were learning to write, you know did not object to Miſs Julia's giving you good copies, though you was well convinced it was totally out of your power to equal them."

[4] "But, Ma'am," again returned Martha, "how can ſuch a one as I imitate my Saviour? Did not he come down from Heaven, on purpoſe to live and to die for the ſake of mankind? Now you know it is not in my power to do any ſuch thing. I cannot raiſe dead perſons to life, and heal the ſick, and give ſight to the blind, and make the lame walk. Beſides, how can I go about to teach others, when I am ſo ignorant, and ſo much in need of inſtruction myſelf."

"I well know," ſaid Mrs. Bingham, "that neither you nor any of us can exactly perform the ſame actions as our Saviour did, I only meant that we ſhould endevour to be guided by the ſame principle. What do you think prompted him to be ſo wonderfully condeſcending, as to leave that glory of happineſs he enjoyed in Heaven, and to take our nature upon him, with all its wants and infirmities? Certainly nothing but an earneſt deſire to do the will of his Heavenly Father, and to prove his love to man. By theſe diſpoſitions our Saviour was actuated during his whole ſtay on earth; and theſe diſpoſitions ſhould be cultivated by all his diſciples."

"Very true, Madam," ſaid Martha.

"From our Saviour," continued Mrs. Bingham, "we learn the duty of prayer. Sometimes he paſſed the whole night in devotion. He never joined in a meal, but he [5]firſt thanked God for the food he had provided; and when he raiſed Lazarus from the dead, he piouſly expreſſed his gratitude to his Heavenly Father, for enabling him to perform that wonderful miracle."

"O yes, Ma'am," ſaid Martha, "I remember we often hear of his praying."

"Our Bleſſed Lord too has taught us," proceeded Mrs. Bingham, "to bear provocation, and even to forgive the greateſt injuries. Should we not be aſhamed of being put out of patience upon every trifling occaſion, when we ſee with what mildneſs the Son of God bore with the neglect and dullneſs of his diſciples? How cordially, upon Peter's repentance, he forgave his denial, and how earneſtly he prayed for his murderers, while hanging on the croſs, to which they had nailed him."

"Dear! I wonder I never thought of this before," ſaid Martha. "Is there any other way, Ma'am, in which we may imitate our Saviour?"

"Yes, Martha, we may imitate his humility. He choſe to be born in an humble ſtation, and aimed at no earthly riches or diſtinction. By condeſcending to waſh the feet of his diſciples, he proved to us, that we ſhould never be above ſtooping to the loweſt offices for the good of others. The benevolence of Jeſus, I juſt now indeed recommended to your imitation. We cannot, it [6]is true, like him, work a miracle to ſupply the wants of a multitude: but though we are placed in a low ſtation, we may ſometimes have it in our power, from our own ſcanty meal, to ſupply the hungry with a mouthful of bread. We cannot cure the ſick with ſpeaking a word; but we may by nurſing them with tenderneſs, promote their recovery, or at leaſt adminiſter to their comfort. In our own troubles, we learn reſignation from our Saviour's example. In his agony, juſt before his crucifixion, his only prayer to God was, that if he was willing, he would remove from him the diſtreſs he at that moment endured, but that, nevertheleſs, God's will might be done. In the cruel treatment he afterwards met with, not a ſingle complaint eſcaped him. He ſeemed to be more concerned for his country, his mother, and his friends, than for his own ſufferings. In ſhort, Martha, if you examine with attention the life of our Saviour, you will find that he has himſelf ſet us the example of every virtue which he has commanded us to practiſe."

Martha would have been glad that her miſtreſs ſhould have proceeded farther; but the bell rang, and Mrs. Bingham was obliged to join her family in the ſupper parlour.

Martha was a pious, well diſpoſed young woman. She had never before conſidered, that one deſign of our Saviour's abode on [7]earth, was "to ſet us an example that we ſhould follow his ſteps;" but the moment it was ſuggeſted to her, ſhe rejoiced to think that it was in any degree in her power to imitate the Lord of Glory; and ſhe determined to make it her endeavour in whatever ſhe engaged, to reflect how her Saviour would have acted in the ſame circumſtances.

In her prayers the next morning, ſhe did not fail to implore God to aſſiſt her to keep her good reſolutions, for ſhe well knew, that ſhe was frail and ſinful, and that nothing but Almighty grace could enable her to make any improvement.

Sally Hague was a girl about thirteen years of age, whom Mrs. Bingham had taken into her family, partly out of compaſſion to her parents, and partly from conſideration to Martha, who having a great deal, both of houſe-work and needle-work, to do, ſhe thought ſtood in need of ſome aſſiſtance.

Martha was too good a woman to make a ſlave of Sally, as is unhappily the practice of ſome ſervants who have girls under them, as it is called; but her natural diſpoſition was haſty, and Sally's extreme dulneſs often put her patience to the proof, and ſhe was apt to reprove her in a ſharp tone of voice.

It was Sally's buſineſs to put the ſtudy to rights againſt her maſter came down. Martha had ſeveral times ſhewn her how to do it; [8]but on going into the room the morning after the above mentioned converſation with her miſtreſs, ſhe found the books piled upon a wrong ſhelf, her chairs out of their proper places, the duſt left in a corner, and not a ſpark of fire to be ſeen.

"Why, you plaguy torment," ſaid ſhe, in an angry manner, "what in the world have you been doing there two hours? I wiſh with all my heart my miſtreſs had never hired you, for I'll be hanged if you do not make more work than you ſave. Now my maſter will be down in a few minutes, and nothing will be ready, and then a fine noiſe I ſhall have in my ears I ſuppoſe."— "I am very ſorry," ſaid Sally, with tears in her eyes. "But cannot I do any thing now?" "You do any thing," repeated Martha; "no, nothing but go about your buſineſs. You are always in my way, you awkward huſſey!"

Sally walked flowly and ſorrowfully to the other end of the room, and Martha, who was banging about the tongs and poker with the utmoſt violence, bluſhed to think how ſoon ſhe had broken her reſolution. She compared her abuſive language to this poor girl, with the mild rebuke of our Lord to his diſciples for their repeated drowſineſs, at a time when he ſtood in moſt need of friendly conſolation. Deſirous of imitating his example, ſhe determined to conquer her ill [9]humour, let it coſt her what it would; and calling Sally in a milder voice, ſhe ſaid, "Come and let me ſhew you how to light the fire. You ſhould not cram the ſtove with coals, and ſcatter the wood in ſeparate places; that will never do. You ſhould put the ſticks acroſs one another at the bottom in the front of the grate, then put the large cinders lightly over them, and a few round coals on the top, and afterwards, with a piece of lighted paper, you muſt ſet fire to the ſticks through the bottom bars: then it will burn up preſently. Come, do not cry, there's a good girl! You'll do better tomorrow." Juſt as ſhe ſaid theſe words, her maſter came into the room much earlier than uſual; finding his books moved from their proper place, and his ſtudy in confuſion, he flew into a violent paſſion, and curſed and abuſed Martha in the moſt dreadful manner.

Martha did not attempt to vindicate herſelf, by laying the blame upon Sally; for ſhe remembered that her Saviour, though loaded with falſe accuſations, held his peace; yet, when Mr. Bingham had left the room, as ſhe brooded over the hard names by which he had called her, ſhe felt by no means inclined to forgive him; and had an opportunity at that moment occurred, ſhe could have liked to have revenged herſelf.

To overcome this vindictive frame of mind, which ſhe was conſcious was diſpleaſing [10]to the Almighty, ſhe reflected on the affectionate lamentation of our Saviour over Jeruſalem, in which city he had been ſo often ill treated. She thought too of his prayer for his murderers: Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do. "Was this the way," ſaid ſhe, "that the bleſſed Jeſus behaved to his enemies, and ſhall not I pardon a few paſſionate words? Shall I not forgive him, whom upon repentance God will forgive, and for whom Chriſt died?" She prayed a moment for a better temper, and ſhe quitted the ſtudy, which ſhe had now finiſhed, in a quiet and compoſed frame of mind.

After breakfaſt, as ſhe was wiping away the crumbs, a large piece of bread fell into the aſhes. No matter, ſaid ſhe to herſelf it is but the bottom of a loaf, and we may as well begin upon a new one at luncheon. The words of her Saviour, Gather up the fragments that remain, that nothing be loſt! cocurred to her memory, and ſhe picked up the bread immediately. She remembered that theſe words were ſpoken at a time when Jeſus Chriſt had been proving that he had all nature at his command, by the wonderful ſupply he had furniſhed. Perhaps, thought ſhe, when the broken pieces of bread and fiſh were ſpread over the graſs they did not look of much value, yet we are told they were ſufficient to fill twelve baſkets. If all [11]the ſcraps of this large family were fairly eaten, how many pounds of victuals would it ſave in the courſe of a year. It is poſſible my Maſter and Miſtreſs would then give ſo much more to the poor; at leaſt, the money that buys the food is theirs, and we have no right to ſquander it.

In the evening as the man and maids were ſitting together, the yard bell rung. John ſaid, it was not his place to anſwer the back bell. Sally was up ſtairs, Betty and Ann, who were at work, accuſed John of ill-nature, and declared they would not ſtir if the people rang the bell till they broke it. Martha was beginning to make the ſame ſilly declaration, but the ran to the gate on recollecting the words of our Saviour, that whoſoever will be great among you ſhall be your miniſter; and whoſoever of you will be the chiefeſt, ſhall be ſervant of all: For even the Son of man came not to be miniſtered unto, but to miniſter.

Martha, like the reſt of the world, loved her own eaſe and convenience; ſhe was fond of being treated with reſpect; ſhe could not bear to be thought lightly of, and was diſpoſed to ſtand up for her rights with whoever ſhould oppoſe them; yet when ſhe conſidered the Redeemer of mankind condeſcended to lay aſide his glory for our ſakes, and that inſtead of being born as a great prince, in which ſituation he might have had [12]thouſands at his command, he took upon him the form of a poor man, and gave up all his time to the good of others, ſhe was aſhamed of her own pride and ſelfiſhneſs. Not a day paſſed but afforded ſome opportunities of ſubduing theſe bad diſpoſitions, by the imitation of the glorious example ſhe had ſet herſelf to follow. The attempt was for a long time attended with the greateſt difficulty, but her own endeavours, and divine grace, in the end, ſo far ſucceeded, that it appeared natural to her in moſt inſtances, generouſly to prefer others to herſelf. Did a ſmall piece of pudding, or a cuſtard or two come out of the parlour, Martha, inſtead of inſiſting upon a right to a part, was willing to give up her ſhare to the others. Were there any little perquiſites reſpecting which it was difficult to decide to which of the ſervants they properly belonged, Martha was the firſt to wave her claim.

Perhaps it may be thought, that by thus laying herſelf open to be impoſed upon by others, ſhe muſt have led a miſerable life. But I will ven [...]ure to ſay, that the diſputes ſhe avoided, and the love and good will of her fellow ſervants, which ſhe effectually gained, more than compenſated for theſe little ſacrifices.

Once Martha de [...]ected Sally in an atrocious falſehood. T [...] was a [...] of which ſhe herſelf had never been guilty, and of [13]which ſhe had greater horror than of almoſt any other.

Mo [...]ified on finding the pains ſhe had frequently taken to inſtruct her in her duty, had been attended with ſo little ſucceſs, ſhe for ſome time gave herſelf no further trouble about her, and even indulged a growing averſion to the girl. One idea, however, often preſented itſelf, and at laſt prompted her to redouble her diligence, to prevent Sally, if poſſible, from falling into bad courſes.

The Saviour of the world eat and drank with publicans and ſinners. The wretches, whom all elſe beheld with ſcorn, by him were received with kindneſs, and directed in the way of everlaſting life. And would he, thought Martha, for one crime, have caſt off poor ignorant Sally?

It was about two months from the time we introduced Martha to the acquaintance of our readers, when Mary Saunders, a young woman with whom ſhe was intimately acquainted, called to inform her that her Miſtreſs was in want of an upper ſervant; and that ſhe was certain, if ſhe would engage to come immediately, ſhe might procure [...]he place; which ſhe ſaid, was well worth having, as the wages were ten guineas, and the perquiſites valuable. Martha heſitated. Mary would fain have perſuaded her to return home with her, and hire herſelf with Mrs. [14]Freeman immediately. This, however, ſhe would by no means conſent to; but thanking her friend, promiſed ſhe ſhould have an anſwer the next morning.

The moment ſhe was gone, ſhe began to reflect very ſeriouſly on the propoſal ſhe had received. She could not think, without regret, of quitting Mrs. Bingham, with whom ſhe had lived from a child, and who had always treated her with the utmoſt kindneſs. To leave her ſo ſuddenly, and for ſuch a reaſon, would appear both unhandſome and ungrateful: and at this time in particular, as her miſtreſs was under the neceſſity of going for ſome weeks into the country, and had ſeveral times told her, that ſhe entruſted her aged and infirm mother to her care during her abſence. Yet was the temptation very great to enquire after a place, where the profits would be conſiderably greater than at preſent; her affections having long been engaged to a worthy young man, to whom ſhe was to be united, as ſoon as their mutual ſavings ſhould be ſufficient to enable them to furniſh a couple of rooms, and purchaſe a few houſehold materials.

To fortify her mind to decline an alluring advantage, ſhe flew to her uſual reſource. She peruſed, in the fourth chapter of St. Matthew, the account of our Saviour's [15]temptation. From our great ignorance of the nature of evil ſpirits, it is not eaſy thoroughly to comprehend the nature of this part of his miniſtry; yet we may learn from it ſufficient to perceive that our Lord was, like us, expoſed to temptation, and that he nobly reſiſted it. This example was not loſt upon the worthy Martha. "Whatever it may coſt me", ſaid ſhe, "I am determined to do my duty. Jeſus Chriſt delayed not a moment to anſwer the artful tempter. I will therefore ſtep to Mary directly, and tell her how I have made up my mind. To-morrow morning I may be weaker."

She accordingly, with her Miſtreſs's leave, went to Mrs. Freeman's immediately, and not all the perſuaſions of Mary Saunders, to whom ſhe was extremely partial, could prevail upon her to alter her determination.

Martha paſſed but a dull ſummer. Mrs. Dawſon, the old lady of whom ſhe had the care, was ſo helpleſs as to require conſtant attendance. Her ſpirits were bad, and ſhe ſuffered much pain, ſo that ſhe wept and complained inceſſantly. Martha's youthful vivacity made her deſire a more enlivening ſcene, and her patience was often on the point of being exhauſted; but the thought of the tenderneſs with which our Saviour heard [16]the complaints of the miſerable objects among whom he paſt his life, and the readineſs with which he relieved them, taught her to ſubſtitute pity for diſguſt, and to endeavour, by every kind of attention, to alleviate the poor lady's ſufferings.

But it would be endleſs to recite all the inſtances in which Martha profited by ſeriouſly contemplating the ſpotleſs example of Jeſus Chriſt. Suffice it to ſay, that by this means ſhe became one of the beſt of Chriſtians, and moſt amiable of women. Far, however, from priding herſelf in her improvement, the practice ſhe had adopted of continually comparing her actions with thoſe of her Saviour, made her more ſenſible of her deficiencies. Unable, after all her attempts, to equal her exalted model, ſhe felt that ſhe muſt be indebted to his mediation, if her imperfect endeavours were accepted, and gloriouſly rewarded by everlaſting life.

Though ſhe acted from no worldly view, yet her Heavenly Father graciouſly thought fit to reward her even in this life. She had ſoon reaſon to rejoice that ſhe had not followed the advice of Mary Saunders, as Mr. Freeman became a bankrupt, all his ſervants were ſuddenly diſmiſſed, and ſeveral received not the full wages due to them. Mrs. Dawſon, [17]at her death, left her a legacy of twenty pounds, as a reward for her fidelity and attention; and ſhortly after ſhe became poſſeſſed of this ſum, ſhe made the worthy youth happy who had long loved her, and eſteemed her virtues.

A. R.
THE END.

THE DRAM SHOP, OR, A PEEP INTO A PRISON.

[18]
LOOK through the land from North to South,
And look from Eaſt to Weſt;
And ſee what is to friſhmen,
Of Life the deadlieſt peſt.
It is not Want, tho' that is bad,
Nor War, tho' that is worſe;
But Ireland's ſons endure, alas!
A ſelf-inflicted Curſe.
Go where you will throughout the realm,
You'll find that every vice,
In cities, villages, and towns,
From WHISKEY takes its riſe.
The Prince of Darkneſs never ſent
To man a deadlier foe,
"My name is Legion." it may ſay,
The ſource of every woe.
Nor does the fiend alone deprive
The labourer of his wealth;
That is not all, it murders too
His honeſt name and health.
We ſay the times are grievous hard,
And hard they are, tis 'true,
But Drunkards, to your wives and babes,
They're harder made by you.
[19]
The Drunkard's Tax is ſelf-impoſed,
And hardeſt to endure,
Not all the taxes half ſo much
Oppreſs the labouring poor.
The State compels no man to drink,
Compels no man to game;
'Tis vice and WHISKEY ſink him down
To rags, and want and ſhame.
The kindeſt huſband, chang'd by theſe
Is for a tyrant known;
The tendereſt heart that Nature made,
Becomes a heart of ſtone.
In many a houſe the harmleſs babes
Are poorly cloth'd and fed;
Becauſe the craving DRAM-SHOP takes
The children's daily bread.
It oft has robb'd the heedleſs youth
Of health and ſenſes too,
And plung'd his never-dying ſoul
In everlaſting Woe.
Come, neighbour, take a walk with me,
Thro' many a Dublin ſtreet,
And ſee the cauſe of penury
In hundreds we ſhall meet.
We ſhall not need to travel far—
Behold that great man's door;
He well diſcerns that idle crew,
From the deſerving poor.
[20]
He will relieve with liberal hand
The child of boned Thrift;
But where long ſcores at DRAM-SHOPS ſtand
He will with-hold his gift.
Behold that ſhivering female there,
Who plies her woeful trade!
Tis WHISKEY, ten to one, you'll find,
That hopeleſs wretch has made.
Lock down thoſe ſteps, and view below
Yon cellar under ground;
There every want, and every Woe,
And every ſin is found.
Thoſe little wretches trembling there,
With hunger and with cold,
Were, by their parents' love of drink,
To Sin and Miſery ſold.
Bleſt be thoſe friends * to human kind,
Who take thoſe wretches up,
Ere they have drank the bitter dregs
Of their ſad parents' cup.
Look thro' that priſon's iron bars,
Look thro' that diſmal grate;
And learn what dire misfortune brought
So terrible a fate.
The Debtor and the Felon too,
Tho' differing in diſgrace,
By WHISKEY you'll too often find,
Were brought to that ſad place.
[21]
Yet Heaven forbid I ſhould confound
Calamity with guilt!
Or name the Debtor's leſſer fault,
With blood of brother ſpilt.
To priſon dire misfortunes oſt
The guiltleſs debtor bring;
Yet oft'ner far it will be ſound
His Woes from WHISKEY ſpring.
See the pale Manufacturer there,
How lank and lean he lies!
How haggard is his ſickly cheek!
How dim his hollow eyes!
He plied the loom with good ſucceſs,
His wages [...] were high;
Twice what the village lab'rer gains,
His maſter did ſupply.
No book-debts kept from him his caſh,
All paid as ſoon as due;
His wages on the Saturday
To fail he never knew.
How amply had his gains ſuffic'd,
On wiſe and children ſpent!
But all muſt for his pleaſure go;
All to the DRAM-SHOP went.
See that Apprentice, young in years,
But hackney'd long in vice,
What made him rob his maſter's till?
Ah! WHISKEY did entice.
[22]
That ſerving man—I knew him once,
So jaunty, ſpruce and ſmart!
Why did he ſteal and pawn the plate?
'Twas WHISKEY ſnar'd his heart.
Turn now thine eye where Channel-row
Diſplays yon manſion drear,
And aſk each pale and ſhiv'ring wretch,
What miſery drove him there.
O! woeful ſight, ſay what could cauſe
Such poverty and ſhame?
Hark! hear his words, he owns the cauſe—
It all from WHISKEY came.
And when the future Lot is fix'd,
Of darkneſs, fire, and chains,
How can the Drunkard hope to 'ſcape
Thoſe everlaſting pains?
Since all his claim to heaven he ſells,
And drink the beſtial cauſe,
Rejects the price his Saviour paid,
And diſobeys his laws.
For if the Murd'rer's doom'd to woe,
As holy writ declares,
The Drunkard with SELF-Murderers
That dreadful portion ſhares.
Z.

Appendix A

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JUST PUBLISHED AND SOLD BY WILLIAM WATSON, No. 7, CAPEL-STREET.
Notes
*
The Philanthropic Society.
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