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Prieſt, I cry for you to hold your peace.-- Then, says George. come here. then, and me, and go ſell coals, and I will hold my peace. Sell your coals! says, the Priest; do you know to whom you speak? Yes, I do, says George, but you do not. What are you? says the Priest. I am a mortal, and so are you, says George, What is your father's name, since you will not tell your own? says the Priest. You may go and ask my mother, says George, for I was not capable of knowing him when he got me. What! says the Priest, do you not know your own father? I know my mother, and my mother did know my father, says George, and that is sufficient, and perhaps more than you can say. The Priest thinking he was, coming too near him, thought to put him off with a Scriptural question by asking him, if he knew who was Melchizedeck's father? Indeed Maſter Priest, says George, Melchizedeck's descent was not counted, neither is yours; then who can declare, your generation? The Priest, at this answer, would ſtand the argument no longer, but cloſed the window in great haſte, while the King, and all who knew the Prieſt to be a foundling, were like to split their sides with laughing, So George went off with his coals, and the Priest became more humble than he formerly was, for he
