Simpson was an honest, good-natured, young man; he was now become sober, and rather religiously disposed. But he was ignorant; he did not know much of the grounds of religion, or of the corruption of his own nature. He was regular at church, but was first drawn thither rather by his skill in psalm-singing than by any great devotion. He had left off going to the Grayhound, and often read the Bible, or some other good book on the Sunday evening. This he thought was quite enough; he thought the Bible was the prettiest history book in the world, and that religion was a very good thing for Sundays. But he did not much understand what business people had with it on working days. He had left off drinking because it had brought Williams to the grave, and his wife to dirt and rags; but not because he himself had seen the evil of sin. He now considered swearing and Sabbath-breaking as scandalous and indecent, but he had not found out that both were to be left off because they are highly offensive to God, and grieve his Holy Spirit. As Simpson was less self-conceited than most ignorant people are, Stock had always a good hope that when he should come to be better acquainted with the word of God, and with the evil of his own heart, he would become one day a good Christian. The great hinderance to this was, that he fancied himself so already. One evening Simpson had been calling to Stock's mind how disorderly the house and shop, where they were now sitting quietly at work, had formerly been, and he went on thus: _Will._ How comfortably we live now, master, to what we used to do in Williams's time! I used then never to be happy but when we were keeping it up all night, but now I am as Merry as the day is long. I find I am twice as happy since I am grown good and sober. _Stock._ I am glad you are happy, Will, and I rejoice that you are sober; but I would not have you take too much pride in your own _goodness_, for fear it should become a sin, almost as great as some of those you have left off. Besides, I would not have you make quite so sure that you _are_ good. _Will._ Not good, master! Why, don't you find me regular and orderly at work? _Stock._ Very much so; and accordingly I have a great respect for you. _Will._ I pay every one his own, seldom miss church, have not been drunk since Williams died, have handsome clothes for Sundays, and save a trifle every week. _Stock._ Very true, and very laudable it is; and to all this you may add that you very generously work an hour for poor Tommy's education, every evening without fee or reward. _Will._ Well, master, what can a man do more? If all this is not being good, I don't know what is. _Stock._ All these things are very right, as far as they go, and you could not well be a Christian without doing them. But I shall make you stare, perhaps, when I tell you, you may do all these things, and many more, and yet be no Christian.