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LETTER XVIII

Mrs. Pringle to Mrs. Glibbans--LONDON.



My Dear Mrs. Glibbans--The breking up of the old Parlament has been

the cause why I did not right you before, it having taken it out of



my poor to get a frank for my letter till yesterday; and I do ashure

you, that I was most extraordinar uneasy at the great delay, wishing



much to let you know the decayt state of the Gospel in thir perts,

which is the pleasure of your life to study by day, and meditate on



in the watches of the night.

There is no want of going to church, and, if that was a sign of



grease and peese in the kingdom of Christ, the toun of London might

hold a high head in the tabernacles of the faithful and true



witnesses. But saving Dr. Nichol of Swallo-Street, and Dr. Manuel

of London-Wall, there is nothing sound in the way of preaching" target="_blank" title="n.说教 a.说教的">preaching here;



and when I tell you that Mr. John Gant, your friend, and some other

flea-lugged fallows, have set up a Heelon congregation, and got a



young man to preach Erse to the English, ye maun think in what a

state sinful souls are left in London. But what I have been the



most consarned about is the state of the dead. I am no meaning

those who are dead in trespasses and sins, but the true dead. Ye



will hardly think, that they are buried in a popish-like manner,

with prayers, and white gowns, and ministers, and spadefuls of yerd



cast upon them, and laid in vauts, like kists of orangers in a

grocery seller--and I am told that, after a time, they are taken out



when the vaut is shurfeeted, and their bones brunt, if they are no

made into lamp-black by a secret wark--which is a clean proof to me



that a right doctrine cannot be established in this land--there

being so little respec shone to the dead.



The worst point, howsomever, of all is, what is done with the

prayers--and I have heard you say, that although there was nothing



more to objec to the wonderful Doctor Chammers of Glasgou, that his

reading of his sermons was testimony against him in the great



controversy of sound doctrine; but what will you say to reading of

prayers, and no only reading of prayers, but printed prayers, as if



the contreet heart of the sinner had no more to say to the Lord in

the hour of fasting and humiliation, than what a bishop can indite,



and a book-seller make profit o'. "Verily," as I may say, in a word

of scripter, I doobt if the glad tidings of salvation have yet been



preeched in this land of London; but the ministers have good

stipends, and where the ground is well manured, it may in time bring



forth fruit meet for repentance.

There is another thing that behoves me to mention, and that is, that



an elder is not to be seen in the churches of London, which is a

sore signal that the piple are left to themselves; and in what state



the morality can be, you may guess with an eye of pity. But on the

Sabbath nights, there is such a going and coming, that it's more



like a cried fair than the Lord's night--all sorts of poor people,

instead of meditating on their bygane toil and misery of the week,



making the Sunday their own day, as if they had not a greater Master

to serve on that day, than the earthly man whom they served in the



week-days. It is, howsomever, past the poor of nature to tell you

of the sinfulness of London; and you may we think what is to be the



end of all things, when I ashure you, that there is a newspaper sold

every Sabbath morning, and read by those that never look at their



Bibles. Our landlady asked us if we would take one; but I thought

the Doctor would have fired the house, and you know it is not a






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