At Salem. Fine Weather. Deacon Thurston of Rowley came in last Night, a venerable
old Man, with his snowy, hoary Locks. Kent and the Deacon soon clashed upon Religion.—Dont
you think Sir, says the Deacon, We are here Probationers for Eternity?—No by no means
says Kent. We are here Probationers for the next State and in the next We shall be
Probationers for the next that is to follow, and so on thro as many States as there
are Stars or Sands, to all Eternity. You have gone thro several States already before
this, one in the Womb, and one in your fathers Loyns.—Ay, says the Deacon, Where do
you get this— dont you believe the Scriptures.
I put in my Oar—He made it Deacon out of the whole Cloth. It never existed out of
Kent. I get it from Analogy.
It is the delight of this Rents Heart to teaze a Minister or Deacon with his wild
Conceits, about Religion.