If there were any others who discovered a remarkable fitness for any other useful calling, in that calling he would have had them instructed and given them his countenance and support, as long as they continued to deserve it. The Archbishop of Braga, Fray Bartolomen dos Martyres, added to his establishment a Physician for the poor. Our friend would in like manner have fixed a medical practitioner in the village,—one as like as he could find to a certain Doctor at Doncaster; and have allowed him such a fixed stipend, as might have made him reasonably contented and independent of the little emolument which the practice of the place could afford, for he would not have wished his services to be gratuitous where there was no need. If the parish to which the village belonged was too extensive, or the parochial Minister unwilling, or unable to look carefully after this part of his flock, his Domestic Chaplain, (for he would not have lived without one) should have taken care of their religious instruction. In his own family and in his own person he would have set his neighbours an example of “whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report.” And as this example produced its sure effects, he would have left the Amateurs of Agriculture to vie with each other in their breeds of sheep and oxen, and in the costly cultivation of their farms. It would have been, not his boast, for he boasted of nothing;—not his pride, for he had none of that poor vice which only empty men Esteem a virtue—[5] it was out of the root of Christian humility that all his virtues grew,—but his consolation and his delight to know that nowhere in Great Britain was there a neater, a more comfortable village than close to his own mansion; no where a more orderly, a more moral, a more cheerful, or a happier people. And if his castle had stood upon an elevation commanding as rich a survey as Belvoir or Shobden, that village when he looked from his windows, would still have been the most delightful object in the prospect. [Footnote 5: BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.] I have not mentioned the name of the old Quaker in my story; but I will preserve it in these pages because the story is to his honour. It was Joshua Dickson. If Quakers have (and certainly they have) the quality which is called modest assurance in a superlative degree that distinguishes them from any other class of men, (it is of the _men_ only that I speak) they are the only sect, who as a sect, cultivate the sense of conscience. This was not a case of conscience, but of strong feeling assuming that character under a tendency to madness.