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 he would call a Bye-Law, and tell the whole Parish how the Parson had misused him;—but cooling of that, as fearing the Parson might possibly bind him over to his good Behaviour, and, for aught he knew, might send him to the House of Correc­tion,—he let the Parson alone; and, to re­venge himself, falls foul upon his Clerk, who had no more to do in the Quarrel than you or I;—rips up the Promise of the old-­cast-Pair-of-black-Plush-Breeches, and raises an Uproar in the Town about it, notwithstanding it had slept ten Years.—But all this you must know, is look'd upon in no other Light, but as an artful Stroke of Generalship in Trim, to raise a Dust, and cover himself under the disgraceful Cha­stisement he has undergone.

If your Curiosity is not yet satisfied,—I will now proceed to relate the Battle of the Breeches, in the same exact Manner I have done that of the Watch-Coat.

Be it known then, that, about ten Years ago, when John was appointed Pa­rish-Clerk of this Church, this said Master Trim took no small Pains to get into John's