I was not going there: we were journeying to hear the famous Jabez Branderham preach, from the text--'Seventy Times Seven;' and either Joseph, the preacher, or I had committed the 'First of the Seventy-First,' and were to be publicly exposed and excommunicated.
We came to the chapel.

I have passed it really in my walks, twice or thrice; it lies in a hollow, between two hills: an elevated hollow, near a swamp, whose peaty moisture is said to answer all the purposes of embalming on the few corpses deposited there.

The roof has been kept whole hitherto; but as the clergyman's stipend is only twenty pounds per annum, and a house with two rooms, threatening speedily to determine into one, no clergyman will undertake the duties of pastor: especially as it is currently reported that his flock would rather let him starve than increase the living by one penny from their own pockets.

However, in my dream, Jabez had a full and attentive congregation; and he preached--good God! what a sermon; divided into _four hundred and ninety_ parts, each fully equal to an ordinary address from the pulpit, and each discussing a separate sin! Where he searched for them, I cannot tell.

He had his private manner of interpreting the phrase, and it seemed necessary the brother should sin different sins on every occasion.