Transcribed from the c1830 Augustus Applegath and Edward Cowper edition by David Price, email cc074@pglaf.org [Picture: Pamphlet cover] THE SABBATH BREAKER RECLAIMED; OR, A PLEASING HISTORY OF THOMAS BROWN. [Picture: Decorative image of man outside church in graveyard] LONDON: Printed by AUGUSTUS APPLEGATH and EDWARD COWPER, Duke-street, Stamford-street; Sold by F. COLLINS, 14, Newgate-street; and EVANS and SONS, 42, Long-lane, Smithfield. _Price One Penny_. HISTORY OF THOMAS BROWN. ON a fine Sabbath morn, in the sweet month of May, When the hawthorn in blossom was seen; When perfumes filled the air, and all nature look’d gay, And the fields wore a livery of green:— Thomas said to his wife, the morning is fine, Then let us walk out at our leisure; I have worked all the week, recreation we’ll seek, And the fields will afford us much pleasure. Said his wife, “all our clothes are both dirty and torn, Which will set decent people a talking; I shall feel much ashamed, and we both shall be blamed By those we may meet as we’re walking.” The birds and the cattle, says Thomas, you know, Dress all days alike, void of care; Let us follow their plan, be as blithe as we can, And _not_ make things worse than they are. “They can’t well be worse, for at home or abroad, We’ve nothing for dinner to-day; Our money’s all gone, and credit we’ve none, So e’en let us do as you say.” They lock’d up their house, and their children they took, Unhappy at home or abroad; And away they all went, (’twas a Sabbath mispent) For the chance of the fields or the road. Not long they had walked, when a neighbour they met, And they tried his attention to shun; But he saw them so plain, to escape him was vain, And thus to discourse he begun: “Where have you been wandering about, Thomas Brown, In your jacket so out of repair?” A rambling I’ve been, o’er the meadows so green, And I work in the jacket I wear. “But do you not hear the church bell, Thomas Brown? Oh! why not the Sabbath regard!” We a living must seek and we work all the week: If we can’t enjoy Sunday ’tis hard! “But what could your work do for you, Thomas Brown, Were you not by your Maker befriended?” Why that I don’t know,—if to church we should go, Perhaps matters would not be much mended. “What I say I intend for your good, Thomas Brown, And your friend am desirous to be!” Why that I suppose, or your time you’d not lose, To discourse with a poor man like me.