Such a wretched paper as the public is drenched with every execution, it is hoped they will be no more bothered with, but if that should be the case, it is confounded hard to pay six-pence for two sheets of whited brown paper rubbed over in a very slovenly manner, but the writing itself is truly inimitable, none but himself can be his parallel; finally, should it ever fall in Mr. Ordinary’s way, to find any of his brother pastors neglecting their duty, he will recommend to them the following spirited admonition of a most famous poet on occasion of the corrupted state of our national clergy, and under the similitude of a shepherd; which cannot fail of bringing them back to their original purity and usefulness.

“Of other care they little reckoning make,
Than how to scramble at the shearers feast,
And shove away the worthy bidden guest;
Blind mouths! that scarce themselves know how to hold
A sheep-hook, or have learn’d aught else the least
That to the faithful herdman’s art belongs!
What recks it them? what need they? they are sped;
And when they lift their lean and flashy songs,
Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw;
The hungry sheep look up, but are not fed,
But swol’n with wind, and the rank mist they draw,
Rot inwardly and foul contagion spread;
But that two handed engine at the door,
Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.”

FINIS.

Transcriber’s Notes