this last he had always a particular spite, for he considered it as
the grand instrument by which the master maintained his servants in
allegiance; and when they could be once brought to sneer at the
book, there was an end of submission to the master. Parley had not
penetration enough to see his drift. "As to the book, Mr.
Flatterwell," said he, "I do not know whether it be true or false;
I rather neglect than disbelieve it. I am forced, indeed, to hear it
read once a week; but I never look into it myself, if I can help it."
"Excellent," said Flatterwell to himself; "that is just the same
thing. This is safe ground for me. For whether a man does not believe
in the book, or does not attend to it, it comes pretty much to the
same, and I generally get him at last."

"Why cannot we be a little nearer, Mr. Parley?" said Flatterwell;
"I am afraid of being overheard by some of your master's spies, the
window from which you speak is so high. I wish you would come down
to the door."

"Well," said Parley, "I see no great harm in that. There is a little
wicket in the door, through which we can converse with more ease and
equal safety. The same fastenings will be still between us." So down
he went, but not without a degree of fear and trembling.

The little wicket being now opened, and Flatterwell standing close on
the outside of the door, they conversed with great ease. "Mr. Parley,"
said Flatterwell, "I should not have pressed you so much to admit me
into the castle, but out of pure, disinterested regard to your own
happiness. I shall get nothing by it, but I cannot bear to think that
a person so wise and amiable should be shut up in this gloomy dungeon,
under a hard master, and a slave to the unreasonable tyranny of his