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A serious Toyman in the city dwelt,
Who much concern for his religion felt;
Reading, he changed his tenets, read again,
And various questions could with skill maintain;
Papist and Quaker if we set aside,
He had the road of every traveller tried;
There walk’d a while, and on a sudden turn’d
Into some by-way he had just discern’d: 
He had a nephew, Fulham:  —­Fulham went
His Uncle’s way, with every turn content;
He saw his pious kinsman’s watchful care,
And thought such anxious pains his own might spare,
And he the truth obtain’d, without the toil, might share. 
In fact, young Fulham, though he little read,
Perceived his uncle was by fancy led;
And smiled to see the constant care he took,
Collating creed with creed, and book with book. 
   At length the senior fix’d; I pass the sect
He call’d a Church, ’twas precious and elect;
Yet the seed fell not in the richest soil,
For few disciples paid the preacher’s toil;
All in an attic room were wont to meet,
These few disciples, at their pastor’s feet;
With these went Fulham, who, discreet and grave,
Follow’d the light his worthy uncle gave;
Till a warm Preacher found the way t’impart
Awakening feelings to his torpid heart: 
Some weighty truths, and of unpleasant kind,
Sank, though resisted, in his struggling mind: 
He wish’d to fly them, but, compell’d to stay,
Truth to the waking Conscience found her way;
For though the Youth was call’d a prudent lad,
And prudent was, yet serious faults he had —
Who now reflected—­“Much am I surprised;
I find these notions cannot be despised: 
No! there is something I perceive at last,
Although my uncle cannot hold it fast;
Though I the strictness of these men reject,
Yet I determine to be circumspect: 
This man alarms me, and I must begin
To look more closely to the things within: 
These sons of zeal have I derided long,
But now begin to think the laugher’s wrong! 
Nay, my good uncle, by all teachers moved,
Will be preferr’d to him who none approved; —
Better to love amiss than nothing to have loved.” 
   Such were his thoughts, when Conscience first began
To hold close converse with th’ awaken’d man: 
He from that time reserved and cautious grew,
And for his duties felt obedience due;
Pious he was not, but he fear’d the pain
Of sins committed, nor would sin again: 
Whene’er he stray’d, he found his Conscience rose,
Like one determined what was ill t’oppose,
What wrong t’accuse, what secret to disclose;
To drag forth every latent act to light,
And fix them fully in the actor’s sight: 
This gave him trouble, but he still confess’d
The labour useful, for it brought him rest. 
   The Uncle died, and when the Nephew read
The will, and saw the substance of the dead —
Five hundred guineas, with a stock in trade —