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BOOK ICONTAININGAS MUCH OF THE BIRTH OF THE FOUNDLING AS IS NECESSARYOR PROPERTO ACQUAINT THE READER WITH IN THE BEGINNING OF THIS HISTORY

Chapter1
Theintroduction to the workor bill of fare to the feast

  Anauthor ought to consider himselfnot as a gentleman who givesa privateor eleemosynary treatbut rather as one who keeps apublicordinaryat which all persons are welcome for their money.In theformer caseit is well known that the entertainer provideswhat farehe pleases; and though this should be very indifferentandutterly disagreeable to the taste of his companythey must notfind anyfault; nayon the contrarygood breeding forces themoutwardlyto approve and to commend whatever is set before them. Nowthecontrary of this happens to the master of an ordinary. Men who payfor whatthey eat will insist on gratifying their palateshowevernice andwhimsical these may prove; and if everything is not agreeableto theirtastewill challenge a right to censureto abuseand tod--n theirdinner without controul.  Topreventthereforegiving offence to their customers by any suchdisappointmentit hath been usual with the honest and well-meaninghost toprovide a bill of fare which all persons may peruse at theirfirstentrance into the house; and having thence acquainted themselveswith theentertainment which they may expectmay either stay andregalewith what is provided for themor may depart to some otherordinarybetter accommodated to their taste.

  Aswe do not disdain to borrow wit or wisdom from any man who iscapable oflending us eitherwe have condescended to take a hint fromthesehonest victuallersand shall prefix not only a general billof fare toour whole entertainmentbut shall likewise give the readerparticularbills to every course which is to be served up in thisand theensuing volumes.

  Theprovisionthenwhich we have here made is no other thanHumanNature. Nor do I fear that my sensible readerthough mostluxuriousin his tastewill startcavilor be offendedbecause Ihave namedbut one article. The tortise- as the alderman of Bristolwelllearned in eatingknows by much experience- besides thedeliciouscalipash and calipeecontains many different kinds of food;nor canthe learned reader be ignorantthat in human naturethoughherecollected under one general nameis such prodigious varietythat acook will have sooner gone through all the several species ofanimal andvegetable food in the worldthan an author will be able toexhaust soextensive a subject.

  Anobjection may perhaps be apprehended from the more delicatethatthis dishis too common and vulgar; for what else is the subject ofall theromancesnovelsplaysand poemswith which the stallsabound?Many exquisite viands might be rejected by the epicureifit was asufficient cause for his contemning of them as common andvulgarthat something was to be found in the most paltry alleys underthe samename. In realitytrue nature is as difficult to be metwith inauthorsas the Bayonne hamor Bologna sausageis to befound inthe shops.

  Butthe wholeto continue the same metaphorconsists in thecookery ofthe author; foras Mr. Pope tells us-

     True wit is nature to advantage drest;
     What oft was thoughtbut ne'er so well exprest.

  Thesame animal which hath the honour to have some part of his flesheaten atthe table of a dukemay perhaps be degraded in another partand someof his limbs gibbetedas it werein the vilest stall intown.Wherethenlies the difference between the food of thenoblemanand the porterif both are at dinner on the same ox or calfbut in theseasoningthe dressingthe garnishingand the settingforth?Hence the one provokes and incites the most languid appetiteand theother turns and palls that which is the sharpest and keenest.

  Inlike mannerthe excellence of the mental entertainmentconsistsless in the subject than in the author's skill in welldressingit up. How pleasedthereforewill the reader be to findthat wehavein the following workadhered closely to one of thehighestprinciples of the best cook which the present ageorperhapsthat of Heliogabalushath produced. This great manas iswell knownto all lovers of polite eatingbegins at first bysettingplain things before his hungry guestsrising afterwards bydegrees astheir stomachs may be supposed to decreaseto the veryquintessenceof sauce and spices. In like mannerwe shall representhumannature at first to the keen appetite of our readerin that moreplain andsimple manner in which it is found in the countryand shallhereafterhash and ragoo it with all the high French and Italianseasoningof affectation and vice which courts and cities afford. Bythesemeanswe doubt not but our reader may be rendered desirous toread onfor everas the great person just above-mentioned is supposedto havemade some persons eat.

 Having premised thus muchwe will now detain those who like ourbill offare no longer from their dietand shall proceed directlyto serveup the first course of our history for their entertainment.

Chapter2
A shortdescription of Squire Allworthyand a fuller account ofMissBridget Allworthyhis sister

  Inthat part of the western division of this kingdom which iscommonlycalled Somersetshirethere lately livedand perhaps livesstillagentleman whose name was Allworthyand who might well becalled thefavourite of both nature and fortune; for both of theseseem tohave contended which should bless and enrich him most. In thiscontentionnature may seem to some to have come off victoriousasshebestowed on him many giftswhile fortune had only one gift in herpower; butin pouring forth thisshe was so very profusethat othersperhapsmay think this single endowment to have been more thanequivalentto all the various blessings which he enjoyed fromnature.From the former of thesehe derived an agreeable personasoundconstitutiona solid understandingand a benevolent heart;by thelatterhe was decreed to the inheritance of one of the largestestates inthe county.

 This gentleman had in his youth married a very worthy andbeautifulwomanof whom he had been extremely fond: by her he hadthreechildrenall of whom died in their infancy. He had likewise hadthemisfortune of burying this beloved wife herselfabout fiveyearsbefore the time in which this history chuses to set out. Thislosshowever greathe bore like a man of sense and constancythoughit must beconfest he would often talk a little whimsically on thishead; forhe sometimes said he looked on himself as still marriedandconsideredhis wife as only gone a little before hima journeywhich heshould most certainlysooner or latertake after her; andthat hehad not the least doubt of meeting her again in a placewhere heshould never part with her more- sentiments for which hissense wasarraigned by one part of his neighbourshis religion by asecondand his sincerity by a third.

  Henow livedfor the most partretired in the countrywith onesisterfor whom he had a very tender affection. This lady was nowsomewhatpast the age of thirtyan aera at whichin the opinion ofthemaliciousthe title of old maid may with no impropriety beassumed.She was of that species of women whom you commend ratherfor goodqualities than beautyand who are generally calledby theirown sexvery good sort of women- as good a sort of womanmadamasyou wouldwish to know. Indeedshe was so far from regretting want ofbeautythat she never mentioned that perfectionif it can becalledonewithout contempt; and would often thank God she was not ashandsomeas Miss Such-a-onewhom perhaps beauty had led into errorswhich shemight have otherwise avoided. Miss Bridget Allworthy (forthat wasthe name of this lady) very rightly conceived the charms ofperson ina woman to be no better than snares for herselfas wellas forothers; and yet so discreet was she in her conductthat herprudencewas as much on the guard as if she had all the snares toapprehendwhich were ever laid for her whole sex. IndeedI haveobservedthough it may seem unaccountable to the readerthat thisguard ofprudencelike the trained bandsis always readiest to go onduty wherethere is the least danger. It often basely and cowardlydesertsthose paragons for whom the men are all wishingsighingdyingandspreading every net in their power; and constantlyattends atthe heels of that higher order of women for whom theother sexhave a more distant and awful respectand whom (fromdespairIsupposeof success) they never venture to attack.

 ReaderI think properbefore we proceed any farther togethertoacquaintthee that I intend to digressthrough this whole historyasoften as Isee occasionof which I am myself a better judge than anypitifulcritic whatever; and here I must desire all those critics tomind theirown businessand not to intermeddle with affairs orworkswhich no ways concern them; for till they produce theauthorityby which they are constituted judgesI shall not plead totheirjurisdiction.

Chapter3
An oddaccident which befel Mr. Allworthy at his return home. Thedecentbehaviour of Mrs. Deborah Wilkinswith some properanimadversionson bastards

  Ihave told my readerin the preceding chapterthat Mr.Allworthyinherited a large fortune; that he had a good heartandno family.Hencedoubtlessit will be concluded by many that helived likean honest manowed no one a shillingtook nothing butwhat washis ownkept a good houseentertained his neighbours with aheartywelcome at his tableand was charitable to the poori.e.to thosewho had rather beg than workby giving them the offalsfrom it;that he died immensely rich and built an hospital.

  Andtrue it is that he did many of these things; but had he donenothingmore I should have left him to have recorded his own meriton somefair freestone over the door of that hospital. Matters of amuch moreextraordinary kind are to be the subject of this historyorI shouldgrossly mis-spend my time in writing so voluminous a work;and youmy sagacious friendmight with equal profit and pleasuretravelthrough some pages which certain droll authors have beenfacetiouslypleased to call The History of England.

  Mr.Allworthy had been absent a full quarter of a year in Londononsome veryparticular businessthough I know not what it was; butjudge ofits importance by its having detained him so long fromhomewhence he had not been absent a month at a time during the spaceof manyyears. He came to his house very late in the eveningandafter ashort supper with his sisterretired much fatigued to hischamber.Herehaving spent some minutes on his knees- a custom whichhe neverbroke through on any account- he was preparing to step intobedwhenupon opening the cloathesto his great surprize hebeheld aninfantwrapt up in some coarse linenin a sweet andprofoundsleepbetween his sheets. He stood some time lost inastonishmentat this sight; butas good nature had always theascendantin his mindhe soon began to be touched with sentimentsofcompassion for the little wretch before him. He then rang his bellandordered an elderly woman-servant to rise immediatelyand cometo him;and in the meantime was so eager in contemplating the beautyofinnocenceappearing in those lively colours with which infancy andsleepalways display itthat his thoughts were too much engaged toreflectthat he was in his shirt when the matron came in. She hadindeedgiven her master sufficient time to dress himself; for out ofrespect tohimand regard to decencyshe had spent many minutes inadjustingher hair at the looking-glassnotwithstanding all the hurryin whichshe had been summoned by the servantand though hermasterfor aught she knewlay expiring in an apoplexyor in someother fit.

  Itwill not be wondered at that a creature who had so strict aregard todecency in her own personshould be shocked at the leastdeviationfrom it in another. She therefore no sooner opened the doorand sawher master standing by the bedside in his shirtwith a candlein hishandthan she started back in a most terrible frightandmightperhaps have swooned awayhad he not now recollected hisbeingundrestand put an end to her terrors by desiring her to staywithoutthe door till he had thrown some cloathes over his backandwas becomeincapable of shocking the pure eyes of Mrs. DeborahWilkinswhothough in the fifty-second year of her agevowed shehad neverbeheld a man without his coat. Sneerers and prophane witsmayperhaps laugh at her first fright; yet my graver readerwhen heconsidersthe time of nightthe summons from her bedand thesituationin which she found her masterwill highly justify andapplaudher conductunless the prudence which must be supposed toattendmaidens at that period of life at which Mrs. Deborah hadarrivedshould a little lessen his admiration.

 When Mrs. Deborah returned into the roomand was acquainted byher masterwith the finding the little infanther consternation wasrathergreater than his had been; nor could she refrain from cryingoutwithgreat horror of accent as well as look"My good sir! what'sto bedone?" Mr. Allworthy answeredshe must take care of the childthateveningand in the morning he would give orders to provide ita nurse."Yessir" says she; "and I hope your worship willsendout yourwarrant to take up the hussy its motherfor she must beone of theneighbourhood; and I should be glad to see her committed toBridewelland whipt at the cart's tail. Indeedsuch wicked slutscannot betoo severely punished. I'll warrant 'tis not her firstbyherimpudence in laying it to your worship."

"In laying it tomeDeborah!"answered Allworthy: "I can't think she hath any such design.I supposeshe hath only taken this method to provide for her child;and trulyI am glad she hath not done worse."

"I don't know what isworse"cries Deborah"than for such wicked strumpets to lay theirsins athonest men's doors; and though your worship knows your owninnocenceyet the world is censorious; and it hath been many anhonestman's hap to pass for the father of children he never begot;and ifyour worship should provide for the childit may make thepeople theapter to believe; besideswhy should your worshipprovidefor what the parish is obliged to maintain? For my own partif it wasan honest man's childindeed- but for my own partit goesagainst meto touch these misbegotten wretcheswhom I don't look uponas myfellow-creatures. Faugh! how it stinks! It doth not smell like aChristian.If I might be so bold to give my adviceI would have itput in abasketand sent out and laid at the churchwarden's door.It is agood nightonly a little rainy and windy; and if it waswell wraptupand put in a warm basketit is two to one but it livestill itfound in the morning. But if it should notwe have dischargedour dutyin taking proper care of it; and it isperhapsbettersuchcreatures to die in a state of innocencethan to grow up andimitatetheir mothers; for nothing better can be expected of them."

 There were some strokes in this speech which perhaps would haveoffendedMr. Allworthyhad he strictly attended to it; but he had nowgot one ofhis fingers into the infant's handwhichby its gentlepressureseeming to implore his assistancehad certainly outpleadedtheeloquence of Mrs. Deborahhad it been ten times greater than itwas. Henow gave Mrs. Deborah positive orders to take the child to herown bedand to call up a maidservant to provide it papand otherthingsagainst it waked. He likewise ordered that proper cloathesshould beprocured for it early in the morningand that it shouldbe broughtto himself as soon as he was stirring.

 Such was the discernment of Mrs. Wilkinsand such the respect shebore hermasterunder whom she enjoyed a most excellent placethatherscruples gave way to his peremptory commands; and she took thechildunder her armswithout any apparent disgust at the illegalityof itsbirth; and declaring it was a sweet little infantwalked offwith it toher own chamber.

 Allworthy here betook himself to those pleasing slumbers which aheart thathungers after goodness is apt to enjoy when thoroughlysatisfied.As these are possibly sweeter than what are occasioned byany otherhearty mealI should take more pains to display them to thereaderifI knew any air to recommend him to for the procuring suchanappetite.                               

Chapter4
Thereader's neck brought into danger by a description; hisescape;and the great condescension of Miss Bridget Allworthy

  TheGothic stile of building could produce nothing nobler than Mr.Allworthy'shouse. There was an air of grandeur in it that struckyou withaweand rivalled the beauties of the best Grecianarchitecture;and it was as commodious within as venerable without.

  Itstood on the south-east side of a hillbut nearer the bottomthan thetop of itso as to be sheltered from the north-east by agrove ofold oaks which rose above it in a gradual ascent of near halfa mileand yet high enough to enjoy a most charming prospect of thevalleybeneath.

  Inthe midst of the grove was a fine lawnsloping down towardsthe housenear the summit of which rose a plentiful springgushingout of arock covered with firsand forming a constant cascade ofaboutthirty feetnot carried down a regular flight of stepsbuttumblingin a natural fall over the broken and mossy stones till itcame tothe bottom of the rockthen running off in a pebly channelthat withmany lesser falls winded alongtill it fell into a lakeat thefoot of the hillabout a quarter of a mile below the houseon thesouth sideand which was seen from every room in the front.Out ofthis lakewhich filled the center of a beautiful plainembellishedwith groups of beeches and elmsand fed with sheepissued ariverthat for several miles was seen to meander throughan amazingvariety of meadows and woods till it emptied itself intothe seawith a large arm of whichand an island beyond ittheprospectwas closed.

  Onthe right of this valley opened another of less extentadornedwithseveral villagesand terminated by one of the towers of an oldruinedabbygrown over with ivyand part of the frontwhichremainedstill entire.

  Theleft-hand scene presented the view of a very fine parkcomposedof veryunequal groundand agreeably varied with all the diversitythathillslawnswoodand waterlaid out with admirable tastebutowing lessto art than to naturecould give. Beyond thisthe countrygraduallyrose into a ridge of wild mountainsthe tops of whichwere abovethe clouds.

  Itwas now the middle of Mayand the morning was remarkably serenewhen Mr.Allworthy walked forth on the terracewhere the dawnopenedevery minute that lovely prospect we have before described tohis eye;and now having sent forth streams of lightwhich ascendedthe bluefirmament before himas harbingers preceding his pompinthe fullblaze of his majesty rose the sunthan which one objectalone inthis lower creation could be more gloriousand that Mr.Allworthyhimself presented- a human being replete with benevolencemeditatingin what manner he might render himself most acceptable tohisCreatorby doing most good to his creatures.

 Readertake care. I have unadvisedly led thee to the top of as higha hill asMr. Allworthy and how to get thee down without breakingthy neckI do not well know. Howeverlet us e'en venture to slidedowntogether; for Miss Bridget rings her belland Mr. Allworthy issummonedto breakfastwhere I must attendandif you pleaseshall beglad of your company.

  Theusual compliments having past between Mr. Allworthy and MissBridgetand the tea being poured outhe summoned Mrs. Wilkinsandtold hissister he had a present for herfor which she thankedhim-imaginingI supposeit had been a gownor some ornament forherperson. Indeedhe very often made her such presents; and sheincomplacenceto himspent much time in adorning herself. I say incomplacenceto himbecause she always exprest the greatest contemptfor dressand for those ladies who made it their study.

  Butif such was her expectationhow was she disappointed whenMrs.Wilkinsaccording to the order she had received from her masterproducedthe little infant? Great surprizesas hath been observedare apt tobe silent; and so was Miss Bridgettill her brother beganand toldher the whole storywhichas the reader knows it alreadywe shallnot repeat.

 Miss Bridget had always exprest so great a regard for what theladies arepleased to call virtueand had herself maintained such aseverityof characterthat it was expectedespecially by Wilkinsthat shewould have vented much bitterness on this occasionand wouldhave votedfor sending the childas a kind of noxious animalimmediatelyout of the house; buton the contraryshe rather tookthegood-natured side of the questionintimated some compassion forthehelpless little creatureand commended her brother's charity inwhat hehad done.

 Perhaps the reader may account for this behaviour from hercondescensionto Mr. Allworthywhen we have informed him that thegood manhad ended his narrative with owning a resolution to take careof thechildand to breed him up as his own; forto acknowledgethe truthshe was always ready to oblige her brotherand veryseldomifevercontradicted his sentiments. She wouldindeedsometimesmake a few observationsas that men were headstrongandmust havetheir own wayand would wish she had been blest with anindependentfortune; but these were always vented in a low voiceand at themost amounted only to what is called muttering.

 Howeverwhat she withheld from the infantshe bestowed with theutmostprofuseness on the poor unknown motherwhom she called animpudentsluta wanton hussyan audacious harlota wicked jadeavilestrumpetwith every other appellation with which the tongue ofvirtuenever fails to lash those who bring a disgrace on the sex.

  Aconsultation was now entered into how to proceed in order todiscoverthe mother. A scrutiny was first made into the charactersof thefemale servants of the housewho were all acquitted by Mrs.Wilkinsand with apparent merit; for she had collected themherselfand perhaps it would be difficult to find such another set ofscarecrows.

  Thenext step was to examine among the inhabitants of the parish;and thiswas referred to Mrs. Wilkinswho was to enquire with allimaginablediligenceand to make her report in the afternoon.

 Matters being thus settledMr. Allworthy withdrew to his studyas was hiscustomand left the child to his sisterwhoat hisdesirehad undertaken the care of it.

Chapter5
Containinga few common matterswith a very uncommon observationupon them

 When her master was departedMrs. Deborah stood silentexpectingher cuefrom Miss Bridget; for as to what had past before hermasterthe prudent housekeeper by no means relied upon itas she hadoftenknown the sentiments of the lady in her brother's absence todiffergreatly from those which she had expressed in his presence.MissBridget did nothoweversuffer her to continue long in thisdoubtfulsituation; for having looked some time earnestly at thechildasit lay asleep in the lap of Mrs. Deborahthe good ladycould notforbear giving it a hearty kissat the same timedeclaringherself wonderfully pleased with its beauty and innocence.Mrs.Deborah no sooner observed this than she fell to squeezing andkissingwith as great raptures as sometimes inspire the sage dameof fortyand five towards a youthful and vigorous bridegroomcryingoutin ashrill voice"Othe dear little creature!- The dearsweetpretty creature! WellI vow it is as fine a boy as ever wasseen!"

 These exclamations continued till they were interrupted by the ladywho nowproceeded to execute the commission given her by herbrotherand gave orders for providing all necessaries for thechildappointing a very good room in the house for his nursery. Herorderswere indeed so liberalthathad it been a child of her ownshe couldnot have exceeded them; butlest the virtuous reader maycondemnher for showing too great regard to a base-born infanttowhich allcharity is condemned by law as irreligiouswe thinkproper toobserve that she concluded the whole with saying"Sinceit was herbrother's whim to adopt the little bratshe supposedlittlemaster must be treated with great tenderness. For her partshecould nothelp thinking it was an encouragement to vice; but thatshe knewtoo much of the obstinacy of mankind to oppose any of theirridiculoushumours."

 With reflections of this nature she usuallyas has been hintedaccompaniedevery act of compliance with her brother's inclinations;and surelynothing could more contribute to heighten the merit of thiscompliancethan a declaration that she knewat the same timethefolly andunreasonableness of those inclinations to which shesubmitted.Tacit obedience implies no force upon the willandconsequentlymay be easilyand without any painspreserved; but whena wifeachilda relationor a friendperforms what we desirewithgrumbling and reluctancewith expressions of dislike anddissatisfactionthe manifest difficulty which they undergo mustgreatlyenhance the obligation.

  Asthis is one of those deep observations which very few readers canbesupposed capable of making themselvesI have thought proper tolend themmy assistance; but this is a favour rarely to be expected inthe courseof my work; IndeedI shall seldom or never so indulge himunless insuch instances as thiswhere nothing but the inspirationwith whichwe writers are giftedcan possibly enable any one tomake thediscovery.

Chapter6
Mrs.Deborah is introduced into the parish with a simile. A shortaccount ofJenny Joneswith the difficulties and discouragementswhich mayattend young women in the pursuit of learning

 Mrs. Deborahhaving disposed of the child according to the willof hermasternow prepared to visit those habitations which weresupposedto conceal its mother.

  Nototherwise than when a kitetremendous birdis beheld by thefeatheredgeneration soaring aloftand hovering over their headstheamorousdoveand every innocent little birdspread wide the alarmand flytrembling to their hiding-places. He proudly beats the airconsciousof his dignityand meditates intended mischief.

  Sowhen the approach of Mrs. Deborah was proclaimed through thestreetall the inhabitants ran trembling into their houseseachmatrondreading lest the visit should fall to her lot. She withstatelysteps proudly advances over the field: aloft she bears hertoweringheadfilled with conceit of her own preeminenceand schemesto effecther intended discovery.

  Thesagacious reader will not from this simile imagine these poorpeople hadany apprehension of the design with which Mrs. Wilkinswas nowcoming towards them; but as the great beauty of the simile maypossiblysleep these hundred yearstill some future commentator shalltake thiswork in handI think proper to lend the reader a littleassistancein this place.

  Itis my intentionthereforeto signifythatas it is the natureof a kiteto devour little birdsso is it the nature of suchpersons asMrs. Wilkins to insult and tyrannize over little people.This beingindeed the means which they use to recompense to themselvestheirextreme servility and condescension to their superiors; fornothingcan be more reasonablethan that slaves and flatterers shouldexact thesame taxes on all below themwhich they themselves pay toall abovethem.

 Whenever Mrs. Deborah had occasion to exert any extraordinarycondescensionto Miss Bridgetand by that means had a little souredhernatural dispositionit was usual with her to walk forth amongthesepeoplein order to refine her temperby ventingandas itwerepurging off all ill humours; on which account she was by nomeans awelcome visitant: to say the truthshe was universallydreadedand hated by them all.

  Onher arrival in this placeshe went immediately to the habitationof anelderly matron; to whomas this matron had the good fortunetoresemble herself in the comeliness of her personas well as in herageshehad generally been more favourable than to any of the rest.To thiswoman she imparted what had happenedand the design uponwhich shewas come thither that morning. These two began presentlytoscrutinize the characters of the several young girls who lived inany ofthose housesand at last fixed their strongest suspicion onone JennyJoneswhothey both agreedwas the likeliest person tohavecommitted this fact.

 This Jenny Jones was no very comely girleither in her face orperson;but nature had somewhat compensated the want of beauty withwhat isgenerally more esteemed by those ladies whose judgment isarrived atyears of perfect maturityfor she had given her a veryuncommonshare of understanding. This gift Jenny had a good dealimprovedby erudition. She had lived several years a servant with aschoolmasterwhodiscovering a great quickness of parts in the girland anextraordinary desire of learning- for every leisure hour shewas alwaysfound reading in the books of the scholars- had thegood-natureor folly- just as the reader pleases to call it- toinstructher so farthat she obtained a competent skill in the Latinlanguageand wasperhapsas good a scholar as most of the young menof qualityof the age. This advantagehoweverlike most others of anextraordinarykindwas attended with some small inconveniences: foras it isnot to be wondered atthat a young woman so wellaccomplishedshould have little relish for the society of those whomfortunehad made her equalsbut whom education had rendered so muchherinferiors; so it is matter of no greater astonishmentthat thissuperiorityin Jennytogether with that behaviour which is itscertainconsequenceshould produce among the rest some little envyandill-will towards her; and these hadperhapssecretly burnt inthe bosomsof her neighbours ever since her return from her service.

 Their envy did nothoweverdisplay itself openlytill poor Jennyto thesurprize of everybodyand to the vexation of all the youngwomen inthese partshad publickly shone forth on a Sunday in a newsilk gownwith a laced capand other proper appendages to these.

  Theflamewhich had before lain in embryonow burst forth. Jennyhadbyher learningincreased her own pridewhich none of herneighbourswere kind enough to feed with the honour she seemed todemand;and nowinstead of respect and adorationshe gainednothingbut hatred and abuse by her finery. The whole parishdeclaredshe could not come honestly by such things; and parentsinstead ofwishing their daughters the samefelicitated themselvesthat theirchildren had them not.

 Henceperhapsit wasthat the good woman first mentioned the nameof thispoor girl to Mrs. Wilkins; but there was anothercircumstancethat confirmed the latter in her suspicion; for Jenny hadlatelybeen often at Mr. Allworthy's house. She had officiated asnurse toMiss Bridgetin a violent fit of illnessand had sat upmanynights with that lady; besides whichshe had been seen there thevery daybefore Mr. Allworthy's returnby Mrs. Wilkins herselfthoughthat sagacious person had not at first conceived anysuspicionof her on that account; foras she herself said"She hadalwaysesteemed Jenny as a very sober girl (though indeed she knewverylittle of her)and had rather suspected some of those wantontrollopswho gave themselves airsbecauseforsooththey thoughtthemselveshandsome."

 Jenny was now summoned to appear in person before Mrs. Deborahwhich sheimmediately did. When Mrs. Deborahputting on the gravityof ajudgewith somewhat more than his austeritybegan an orationwith thewords"You audacious strumpet!" in which she proceededrather topass sentence on the prisoner than to accuse her.

 Though Mrs. Deborah was fully satisfied of the guilt of Jennyfrom thereasons above shownit is possible Mr. Allworthy mighthaverequired some stronger evidence to have convicted her; but shesaved heraccusers any such troubleby freely confessing the wholefact withwhich she was charged.

 This confessionthough delivered rather in terms of contritionas itappeareddid not at all mollify Mrs. Deborahwho nowpronounceda second judgment against herin more opprobrious languagethanbefore; nor had it any better success with the bystanderswhowere nowgrown very numerous. Many of them cried out"They thoughtwhatmadam's silk gown would end in"; others spoke sarcastically ofherlearning. Not a single female was present but found some meansofexpressing her abhorrence of poor Jennywho bore all verypatientlyexcept the malice of one womanwho reflected upon herpersonand tossing up her nosesaid"The man must have a goodstomachwho would give silk gowns for such sort of trumpery!" Jennyreplied tothis with a bitterness which might have surprized ajudiciouspersonwho had observed the tranquillity with which shebore allthe affronts to her chastity; but her patience was perhapstired outfor this is a virtue which is very apt to be fatigued byexercise.

 Mrs. Deborah having succeeded beyond her hopes in her inquiryreturnedwith much triumphandat the appointed hourmade afaithfulreport to Mr. Allworthywho was much surprized at therelation;for he had heard of the extraordinary parts and improvementsof thisgirlwhom he intended to have given in marriagetogetherwith asmall livingto a neighbouring curate. His concernthereforeon thisoccasionwas at least equal to the satisfaction whichappearedin Mrs. Deborahand to many readers may seem much morereasonable.

 Miss Bridget blessed herselfand said"For her partsheshouldneverhereafter entertain a good opinion of any woman." For Jennybeforethis had the happiness of being much in her good graces also.

  Theprudent housekeeper was again dispatched to bring the unhappyculpritbefore Mr. Allworthyin ordernot as it was hoped by someandexpected by allto be sent to the House of Correctionbut toreceivewholesome admonition and reproof; which those who relishthat kindof instructive writing may peruse in the next chapter.

Chapter7
Containingsuch grave matterthat the reader cannot laugh oncethroughthe whole chapterunless peradventure he should laugh atthe author

 When Jenny appearedMr. Allworthy took her into his studyandspoke toher as follows: "You knowchildit is in my power as amagistrateto punish you very rigorously for what you have done;and youwillperhapsbe the more apt to fear I should execute thatpowerbecause you have in a manner laid your sins at my door.

 "Butperhapsthis is one reason which hath determined me toact ina mildermanner with you: foras no private resentment should everinfluencea magistrateI will be so far from considering yourhavingdeposited the infant in my house as an aggravation of youroffencethat I will supposein your favourthis to have proceededfrom anatural affection to your childsince you might have somehopes tosee it thus better provided for than was in the power ofyourselfor its wicked fatherto provide for it. I should indeedhave beenhighly offended with you had you exposed the little wretchin themanner of some inhuman motherswho seem no less to haveabandonedtheir humanitythan to have parted with their chastity.It is theother part of your offencethereforeupon which I intendtoadmonish youI mean the violation of your chastity;- a crimehoweverlightly it may be treated by debauched personsvery heinousin itselfand very dreadful in its consequences.

 "The heinous nature of this offence must be sufficientlyapparent toeveryChristianinasmuch as it is committed in defiance of the lawsof ourreligionand of the express commands of Him who founded thatreligion.

 "And here its consequences may well be argued to be dreadful;forwhat canbe more sothan to incur the divine displeasureby thebreach ofthe divine commands; and that in an instance against whichthehighest vengeance is specifically denounced?

 "But these thingsthough too littleI am afraidregardedareso plainthat mankindhowever they may want to be remindedcannever needinformation on this head. A hintthereforeto awaken yoursense ofthis mattershall suffice; for I would inspire you withrepentanceand not drive you to desperation.

 "There are other consequencesnot indeed so dreadful or repletewithhorror as this; and yet suchasif attentively consideredmustonewould thinkdeter all of your sex at least from thecommissionof this crime.

 "For by it you are rendered infamousand drivenlike lepers ofoldoutof society; at leastfrom the society of all but wickedandreprobate persons; for no others will associate with you.

  "Ifyou have fortunesyou are hereby rendered incapable of enjoyingthem; ifyou have noneyou are disabled from acquiring anynayalmost ofprocuring your sustenance; for no persons of characterwillreceive you into their houses. Thus you are often driven bynecessityitself into a state of shame and miserywhich unavoidablyends inthe destruction of both body and soul.

 "Can any pleasure compensate these evils? Can any temptationhavesophistryand delusion strong enough to persuade you to so simple abargain?Or can any carnal appetite so overpower your reasonor sototallylay it asleepas to prevent your flying with affright andterrorfrom a crime which carries such punishment always with it?

 "How base and mean must that woman behow void of that dignityofmindanddecent pridewithout which we are not worthy the name ofhumancreatureswho can bear to level herself with the lowest animaland tosacrifice all that is great and noble in herall herheavenlypartto an appetite which she hath in common with the vilestbranch ofthe creation! For no womansurewill plead the passionof lovefor an excuse. This would be to own herself the mere tooland bubbleof the man. Lovehowever barbarously we may corrupt andpervertits meaningas it is a laudableis a rational passionandcan neverbe violent but when reciprocal; for though the Scripturebids uslove our enemiesit means not with that fervent love which wenaturallybeat towards our friends; much less that we should sacrificeto themour livesand what ought to be dearer to usour innocence.Now inwhat lightbut that of an enemycan a reasonable woman regardthe manwho solicits her to entail on herself all the misery I havedescribedto youand who would purchase to himself a shorttrivialcontemptible pleasureso greatly at her expense! Forby thelaws ofcustomthe whole shamewith all its dreadful consequencesfallsintirely upon her. Can lovewhich always seeks the good ofitsobjectattempt to betray a woman into a bargain where she is sogreatly tobe the loser? If such corrupterthereforeshould have theimpudenceto pretend a real affection for herought not the womanto regardhim not only as an enemybut as the worst of all enemiesafalsedesigningtreacherouspretended friendwho intends notonly todebauch her bodybut her understanding at the same time?"

 Here Jenny expressing great concernAllworthy paused a momentand thenproceeded: "I have talked thus to youchildnot to insultyou forwhat is past and irrevocablebut to caution and strengthenyou forthe future. Nor should I have taken this troublebut fromsomeopinion of your good sensenotwithstanding the dreadful slip youhave made;and from some hopes of your hearty repentancewhich arefounded onthe openness and sincerity of your confession. If thesedo notdeceive meI will take care to convey you from this scene ofyourshamewhere you shallby being unknownavoid the punishmentwhichasI have saidis allotted to your crime in this world; andI hopebyrepentanceyou will avoid the much heavier sentencedenouncedagainst it in the other. Be a good girl the rest of yourdaysandwant shall be no motive to your going astray; andbelievemethereis more pleasureeven in this worldin an innocent andvirtuouslifethan in one debauched and vicious.

  "Asto your childlet no thoughts concerning it molest you; Iwillprovide for it in a better manner than you can ever hope. And nownothingremains but that you inform me who was the wicked man thatseducedyou; for my anger against him will be much greater than youhaveexperienced on this occasion."

 Jenny now lifted her eyes from the groundand with a modest lookand decentvoice thus began:-

  "Toknow yousirand not love your goodnesswould be anargumentof total want of sense or goodness in any one. In me it wouldamount tothe highest ingratitudenot to feelin the most sensiblemannerthe great degree of goodness you have been pleased to exert onthisoccasion. As to my concern for what is pastI know you willspare myblushes the repetition. My future conduct will much betterdeclare mysentiments than any professions I can now make. I beg leaveto assureyousirthat I take your advice much kinder than yourgenerousoffer with which you concluded it; foras you are pleased tosaysirit is an instance of your opinion of my understanding."-Here hertears flowing apaceshe stopped a few momentsand thenproceededthus:

"Indeedsiryour kindness overcomes me; but I willendeavourto deserve this good opinion: for if I have theunderstandingyou are so kindly pleased to allow mesuch advicecannot bethrown away upon me. I thank yousirheartilyfor yourintendedkindness to my poor helpless child: he is innocentand Ihope willlive to be grateful for all the favours you shall show him.But nowsirI must on my knees entreat you not to persist in askingme todeclare the father of my infant. I promise you faithfully youshall oneday know; but I am under the most solemn ties andengagementsof honouras well as the most religious vows andprotestationsto conceal his name at this time. And I know you toowelltothink you would desire I should sacrifice either my honour ormyreligion."

  Mr.Allworthywhom the least mention of those sacred words wassufficientto staggerhesitated a moment before he repliedandthen toldhershe had done wrong to enter into such engagements toa villain;but since she hadhe could not insist on her breakingthem. Hesaidit was not from a motive of vain curiosity he hadinquiredbut in order to punish the fellow; at leastthat he mightnotignorantly confer favours on the undeserving.

  Asto these pointsJenny satisfied him by the most solemnassurancesthat the man was entirely out of his reach; and wasneithersubject to his powernor in any probability of becoming anobject ofhis goodness.

  Theingenuity of this behaviour had gained Jenny so much credit withthisworthy manthat he easily believed what she told him; for as shehaddisdained to excuse herself by a lieand had hazarded his furtherdispleasurein her present situationrather than she would forfeither honouror integrity by betraying anotherhe had but littleapprehensionsthat she would be guilty of falsehood towards himself.

  Hetherefore dismissed her with assurances that he would very soonremove herout of the reach of that obloquy she had incurred;concludingwith some additional documentsin which he recommendedrepentancesaying"Considerchildthere is One still toreconcileyourself towhose favour is of much greater importance toyou thanmine."

Chapter8
A dialoguebetween Mesdames Bridget and Deborah; containing moreamusementbut less instructionthan the former

 When Mr. Allworthy had retired to his study with Jenny Jonesashath beenseenMrs. Bridgetwith the good housekeeperhad betakenthemselvesto a post next adjoining to the said study; whencethroughtheconveyance of a keyholethey sucked in at their ears theinstructivelecture delivered by Mr. Allworthytogether with theanswers ofJennyand indeed every other particular which passed inthe lastchapter.

 This hole in her brother's study-door was indeed as well known toMrs.Bridgetand had been as frequently applied to by heras thefamoushole in the wall was by Thisbe of old. This served to many goodpurposes.For by such means Mrs. Bridget became often acquaintedwith herbrother's inclinationswithout giving him the trouble ofrepeatingthem to her. It is truesome inconveniences attended thisintercourseand she had sometimes reason to cry out with ThisbeinShakespear"Owickedwicked wall!" For as Mr. Allworthy was ajustice ofpeacecertain things occurred in examinations concerningbastardsand such likewhich are apt to give great offence to thechasteears of virginsespecially when they approach the age offortyaswas the case of Miss Bridget. Howevershe hadon suchoccasionsthe advantage of concealing her blushes from the eyes ofmen; andDe non apparentibuset non existentibus eadem estratio- in English"When a woman is not seen to blushshe doth notblush atall."

 Both the good women kept strict silence during the whole scenebetweenMr. Allworthy and the girl; but as soon as it was endedandthatgentleman was out of hearingMrs. Deborah could not helpexclaimingagainst the clemency of her masterand especiallyagainsthis suffering her to conceal the father of the childwhichshe sworeshe would have out of her before the sun set.

  Atthese words Miss Bridget discomposed her features with a smile (athing veryunusual to her). Not that I would have my reader imaginethat thiswas one of those wanton smiles which Homer would have youconceivecame from Venuswhen he calls her the laughter-lovinggoddess;nor was it one of those smiles which Lady Seraphina shootsfrom thestage-boxand which Venus would quit her immortality to beable toequal. Nothis was rather one of those smiles which mightbesupposed to have come from the dimpled cheeks of the augustTisiphoneor from one of the missesher sisters.

 With such a smile thenand with a voice sweet as the evening breezeof Boreasin the pleasant month of NovemberMiss Bridget gentlyreprovedthe curiosity of Mrs. Deborah; a vice with which it seems thelatter wastoo much taintedand which the former inveighed againstwith greatbitternessadding"Thatamong all her faultsshethankedHeaven her enemies could not accuse her of prying into theaffairs ofother people."

  Shethen proceeded to commend the honour and spirit with which Jennyhad acted.She saidshe could not help agreeing with her brotherthat therewas some merit in the sincerity of her confessionand inherintegrity to her lover: that she had always thought her a verygood girland doubted not but she had been seduced by some rascalwho hadbeen infinitely more to blame than herselfand veryprobablyhad prevailed with her by a promise of marriageor someothertreacherous proceeding.

 This behaviour of Miss Bridget greatly surprised Mrs. Deborah; forthiswell-bred woman seldom opened her lipseither to her master orhissistertill she had first sounded their inclinationswithwhich hersentiments were always consonant. Herehowevershe thoughtshe mighthave launched forth with safety; and the sagacious readerwill notperhaps accuse her of want of sufficient forecast in sodoingbutwill rather admire with what wonderful celerity shetackedaboutwhen she found herself steering a wrong course.

 "Naymadam" said this able womanand truly greatpolitician"Imust own Icannot help admiring the girl's spiritas well as yourladyship.Andas your ladyship saysif she was deceived by somewickedmanthe poor wretch is to be pitied. And to be sureas yourladyshipsaysthe girl hath always appeared like a goodhonestplaingirland not vain of her faceforsoothas some wanton husseysin theneighbourhood are."

 "You say trueDeborah" said Miss Bridget. "If thegirl had beenone ofthose vain trollopsof which we have too many in the parishIshouldhave condemned my brother for his lenity towards her. I saw twofarmers'daughters at churchthe other daywith bare necks. Iprotestthey shocked me. If wenches will hang out lures for fellowsit is nomatter what they suffer. I detest such creatures; and itwould bemuch better for them that their faces had been seamed withthesmallpox; but I must confessI never saw any of this wantonbehaviourin poor Jenny: some artful villainI am convincedhathbetrayednay perhaps forced her; and I pity the poor wretch withall myheart."

 Mrs. Deborah approved all these sentimentsand the dialogueconcludedwith a general and bitter invective against beautyand withmanycompassionate considerations for all honestplain girls whoaredeluded by the wicked arts of deceitful men.

Chapter9
Containingmatters which will surprize the reader

 Jenny returned home well pleased with the reception she had met withfrom Mr.Allworthywhose indulgence to her she industriously madepublic;partly perhaps as a sacrifice to her own prideand partlyfrom themore prudent motive of reconciling her neighbours to herandsilencingtheir clamours.

  Butthough this latter viewif she indeed had itmay appearreasonableenoughyet the event did not answer her expectation; forwhen shewas convened before the justiceand it was universallyapprehendedthat the House of Correction would have been her fatethoughsome of the young women cryed out "It was good enough for her"anddiverted themselves with the thoughts of her beating hemp in asilk gown;yet there were many others who began to pity her condition:but whenit was known in what manner Mr. Allworthy had behavedthetideturned against her. One said"I'll assure youmadam hath hadgoodluck." A second cryed"See what it is to be a favourite!"Athird"Aythis comes of her learning." Every person made somemaliciouscomment or other on the occasionand reflected on thepartialityof the justice.

  Thebehaviour of these people may appear impolitic and ungrateful tothereaderwho considers the power and benevolence of Mr.Allworthy.But as to his powerhe never used it; and as to hisbenevolencehe exerted so muchthat he had thereby disobliged allhisneighbours; for it is a secret well known to great menthatbyconferringan obligationthey do not always procure a friendbut arecertain ofcreating many enemies.

 Jenny washoweverby the care and goodness of Mr. Allworthysoonremoved out of the reach of reproach; when malice being no longerable tovent its rage on herbegan to seek another object of itsbitternessand this was no less than Mr. Allworthyhimself; for awhispersoon went abroadthat he himself was the father of thefoundlingchild.

 This supposition so well reconciled his conduct to the generalopinionthat it met with universal assent; and the outcry against hislenitysoon began to take another turnand was changed into aninvectiveagainst his cruelty to the poor girl. Very grave and goodwomenexclaimed against men who begot childrenand then disownedthem. Norwere there wanting somewhoafter the departure ofJennyinsinuated that she was spirited away with a design too blackto bementionedand who gave frequent hints that a legal inquiryought tobe made into the whole matterand that some people should beforced toproduce the girl.

 These calumnies might have probably produced ill consequencesatthe leastmight gave occasioned some troubleto a person of a moredoubtfuland suspicious character than Mr. Allworthy was blessed with;but in hiscase they had no such effect; andbeing heartilydespisedby himthey served only to afford an innocent amusement tothe goodgossips of the neighbourhood.

  Butas we cannot possibly divine what complection our reader maybe ofandas it will be some time before he will hear any more ofJennywethink proper to give him a very early intimationthat Mr.Allworthywasand will hereafter appear to beabsolutely innocent ofanycriminal intention whatever. He had indeed committed no other thanan errorin politicsby tempering justice with mercyand by refusingto gratifythe good-natured disposition of the mobwith anobjectfor theircompassion to work on in the person of poor Jennywhomin orderto pitythey desired to have seen sacrificed to ruin andinfamybya shameful correction in Bridewell.

  Sofar from complying with this their inclinationby which allhopes ofreformation would have been abolishedand even the gate shutagainsther if her own inclinations should ever hereafter lead herto chusethe road of virtueMr. Allworthy rather chose to encouragethe girlto return thither by the only possible means; for too trueI amafraid it isthat many women have become abandonedand havesunk tothe last degree of viceby being unable to retrieve the firstslip. Thiswill beI am afraidalways the case while they remainamongtheir former acquaintance; it was therefore wisely done by Mr.Allworthyto remove Jenny to a place where she might enjoy thepleasureof reputationafter having tasted the ill consequences oflosing it.

  Tothis place thereforewherever it waswe will wish her a goodjourneyand for the present take leave of herand of the littlefoundlingher childhaving matters of much higher importance tocommunicateto the reader.

Chapter10
Thehospitality of Allworthy; with a short sketch of thecharactersof two brothersa doctor and a captainwho wereentertainedby that gentleman

 Neither Mr. Allworthy's housenor his heartwere shut againstany partof mankindbut they were both more particularly open tomen ofmerit. To say the truththis was the only house in the kingdomwhere youwas sure to gain a dinner by deserving it.

 Above all othersmen of genius and learning shared the principalplace inhis favour; and in these he had much discernment: forthough hehad missed the advantage of a learned educationyetbeingblest with vast natural abilitieshe had so well profited bya vigorousthough late application to lettersand by muchconversationwith men of eminence in this waythat he was himself averycompetent judge in most kinds of literature.

  Itis no wonder that in an age when this kind of merit is solittle infashionand so slenderly provided forpersons possessed ofit shouldvery eagerly flock to a place where they were sure ofbeingreceived with great complaisance; indeedwhere they might enjoyalmost thesame advantages of a liberal fortune as if they wereentitledto it in their own right; for Mr. Allworthy was not one ofthosegenerous persons who are ready most bountifully to bestowmeatdrinkand lodging on men of wit and learningfor which theyexpect noother return but entertainmentinstructionflatteryandsubserviency;in a wordthat such persons should be enrolled in thenumber ofdomesticswithout wearing their master's cloathesorreceivingwages.

  Onthe contraryevery person in this house was perfect master ofhis owntime: and as he might at his pleasure satisfy all hisappetiteswithin the restrictions only of lawvirtueand religion;so hemightif his health requiredor his inclination prompted himtotemperanceor even to abstinenceabsent himself from any mealsor retirefrom themwhenever he was so disposedwithout even asollicitationto the contrary: forindeedsuch sollicitations fromsuperiorsalways savour very strongly of commands. But all here werefree fromsuch impertinencenot only those whose company is in allotherplaces esteemed a favour from their equality of fortunebuteven thosewhose indigent circumstances make such an eleemosynaryabodeconvenient to themand who are therefore less welcome to agreatman's table because they stand in need of it.

  Amongothers of this kind was Dr. Blifila gentleman who had themisfortuneof losing the advantage of great talents by the obstinacyof afatherwho would breed him to a profession he disliked. Inobedienceto this obstinacy the doctor had in his youth been obligedto studyphysicor rather to say he studied it; for in realitybooks ofthis kind were almost the only ones with which he wasunacquainted;and unfortunately for himthe doctor was master ofalmostevery other science but that by which he was to get hisbread; theconsequence of which wasthat the doctor at the age offorty hadno bread to eat.

 Such a person as this was certain to find a welcome at Mr.Allworthy'stableto whom misfortunes were ever a recommendationwhen theywere derived from the folly or villany of othersand not oftheunfortunate person himself. Besides this negative meritthedoctor hadone positive recommendation;- this was a great appearanceofreligion. Whether his religion was realor consisted only inappearanceI shall not presume to sayas I am not possessed of anytouchstonewhich can distinguish the true from the false.

  Ifthis part of his character pleased Mr. Allworthyit delightedMissBridget. She engaged him in many religious controversies; onwhichoccasions she constantly expressed great satisfaction in thedoctor'sknowledgeand not much less in the compliments which hefrequentlybestowed on her own. To say the truthshe had read muchEnglishdivinityand had puzzled more than one of the neighbouringcurates.Indeedher conversation was so pureher looks so sageand herwhole deportment so grave and solemnthat she seemed todeservethe name of saint equally with her namesakeor with any otherfemale inthe Roman kalendar.

  Assympathies of all kinds are apt to beget loveso experienceteaches usthat none have a more direct tendency this way than thoseof areligious kind between persons of different sexes. The doctorfoundhimself so agreeable to Miss Bridgetthat he now began tolament anunfortunate accident which had happened to him about tenyearsbefore; namelyhis marriage with another womanwho was notonly stillalivebutwhat was worseknown to be so by Mr.Allworthy.This was a fatal bar to that happiness which he otherwisesawsufficient probability of obtaining with this young lady; for astocriminal indulgenceshe certainly never thought of them. Thiswas owingeither to his religionas is most probableor to thepurity ofhis passionwhich was fixed on those things which matrimonyonlyandnot criminal correspondencecould put him in possession ofor couldgive him any title to.

  Hehad not long ruminated on these mattersbefore it occurred tohis memorythat he had a brother who was under no such unhappyincapacity.This brother he made no doubt would succeed; for hediscernedas he thoughtan inclination to marriage in the lady;and thereader perhapswhen he hears the brother's qualificationswill notblame the confidence which he entertained of his success.

 This gentleman was about thirty-five years of age. He was of amiddlesizeand what is called well-built. He had a scar on hisforeheadwhich did not so much injure his beauty as it denoted hisvalour(for he was a half-pay officer). He had good teethandsomethingaffablewhen he pleasedin his smile; though naturally hiscountenanceas well as his air and voicehad much of roughness init: yet hecould at any time deposit thisand appear all gentlenessand goodhumour. He was not ungenteelnor entirely devoid of witandin hisyouth had abounded in sprightlinesswhichthough he hadlately puton a more serious characterhe couldwhen he pleasedresume.

  Hehadas well as the doctoran academic education; for his fatherhadwiththe same paternal authority we have mentioned beforedecreedhim for holy orders; but as the old gentleman died before hewasordainedhe chose the church militaryand preferred the king'scommissionto the bishop's.

  Hehad purchased the post of lieutenant of dragoonsandafterwardscame to be a captain; but having quarrelled with hiscolonelwas by his interest obliged to sell; from which time he hadentirelyrusticated himselfhad betaken himself to studying theScripturesand was not a little suspected of an inclination tomethodism.

  Itseemedthereforenot unlikely that such a person should succeedwith alady of so saint-like a dispositionand whose inclinationswere nootherwise engaged than to the marriage state in general; butwhy thedoctorwho certainly had no great friendship for his brothershould forhis sake think of making so ill a return to the hospitalityofAllworthyis a matter not so easy to be accounted for.

  Isit that some natures delight in evilas others are thought todelight invirtue? Or is there a pleasure in being accessory to atheft whenwe cannot commit it ourselves? Or lastly (whichexperienceseems to make probable)have we a satisfaction inaggrandizingour familieseven though we have not the least love orrespectfor them?

 Whether any of these motives operated on the doctorwe will notdetermine;but so the fact was. He sent for his brotherand easilyfoundmeans to introduce him at Allworthy's as a person who intendedonly ashort visit to himself.

  Thecaptain had not been in the house a week before the doctor hadreason tofelicitate himself on his discernment. The captain wasindeed asgreat a master of the art of love as Ovid was formerly. Hehadbesides received proper hints from his brotherwhich he failednot toimprove to the best advantage.

Chapter11
Containingmany rulesand some examplesconcerning falling inlove:descriptions of beautyand other more prudential inducements tomatrimony

  Ithath been observedby wise men or womenI forget whichthatallpersons are doomed to be in love once in their lives. Noparticularseason isas I rememberassigned for this; but the age atwhich MissBridget was arrivedseems to me as proper a period asany to befixed on for this purpose: it oftenindeedhappens muchearlier;but when it doth notI have observed it seldom or neverfailsabout this time. Moreoverwe may remark that at this seasonlove is ofa more serious and steady nature than what sometimesshowsitself in the younger parts of life. The love of girls isuncertaincapriciousand so foolish that we cannot always discoverwhat theyoung lady would be at; nayit may almost be doubted whethershe alwaysknows this herself.

  Nowwe are never at a loss to discern this in women about forty; foras suchgraveseriousand experienced ladies well know their ownmeaningso it is always very easy for a man of the least sagacitytodiscover it with the utmost certainty.

 Miss Bridget is an example of all these observations. She had notbeen manytimes in the captain's company before she was seized withthispassion. Nor did she go pining and moping about the houselike apunyfoolish girlignorant of her distemper: she feltshe knewandsheenjoyedthe pleasing sensationof whichas she was certain itwas notonly innocent but laudableshe was neither afraid norashamed.

  Andto say the truththere isin all pointsgreat differencebetweenthe reasonable passion which women at this age conceivetowardsmenand the idle and childish liking of a girl to a boywhich isoften fixed on the outside onlyand on things of littlevalue andno duration; as on cherry-cheekssmalllily-white handssloe-blackeyesflowing locksdowny chinsdapper shapes; naysometimeson charms more worthless than theseand less the party'sown; suchare the outward ornaments of the personfor which men arebeholdento the taylorthe lacemanthe periwig-makerthe hatterand themillinerand not to nature. Such a passion girls may wellbeashamedas they generally areto own either to themselves orothers.

  Thelove of Miss Bridget was of another kind. The captain owednothing toany of these fop-makers in his dressnor was his personmuch morebeholden to nature. Both his dress and person were suchashadthey appeared in an assembly or a drawing-roomwould havebeen thecontempt and ridicule of all the fine ladies there. Theformer ofthese was indeed neatbut plaincoarseill-fanciedandout offashion. As for the latterwe have expressly described itabove. Sofar was the skin on his cheeks from being cherry-colouredthat youcould not discern what the natural colour of his cheekswastheybeing totally overgrown by a black beardwhich ascendedto hiseyes. His shape and limbs were indeed exactly proportionedbutso largethat they denoted the strength rather of a ploughman than anyother. Hisshoulders were broad beyond all sizeand the calves of hislegslarger than those of a common chairman. In shorthis wholepersonwanted all that elegance and beauty which is the very reverseof clumsystrengthand which so agreeably sets off most of our finegentlemen;being partly owing to the high blood of their ancestorsviz.blood made of rich sauces and generous winesand partly to anearly towneducation.

 Though Miss Bridget was a woman of the greatest delicacy of tasteyet suchwere the charms of the captain's conversationthat shetotallyoverlooked the defects of his person. She imaginedandperhapsvery wiselythat she should enjoy more agreeable minutes withthecaptain than with a much prettier fellow; and forewent theconsiderationof pleasing her eyesin order to procure herself muchmore solidsatisfaction.

  Thecaptain no sooner perceived the passion of Miss Bridgetinwhichdiscovery he was very quick-sightedthan he faithfully returnedit. Theladyno more than her loverwas remarkable for beauty. Iwouldattempt to draw her picturebut that is done already by amore ablemasterMr. Hogarth himselfto whom she sat many years agoand hathbeen lately exhibited by that gentleman in his print of awinter'smorningof which she was no improper emblemand may be seenwalking(for walk she doth in the print) to Covent Garden churchwitha starvedfoot-boy behind carrying her prayer-book.

  Thecaptain likewise very wisely preferred the more solid enjoymentsheexpected with this ladyto the fleeting charms of person. He wasone ofthose wise men who regard beauty in the other sex as a veryworthlessand superficial qualification; orto speak more trulywho ratherchuse to possess every convenience of life with an uglywomanthan a handsome one without any of those conveniences. Andhaving avery good appetiteand but little nicetyhe fancied heshouldplay his part very well at the matrimonial banquetwithout thesauce ofbeauty.

  Todeal plainly with the readerthe captainever since hisarrivalat least from the moment his brother had proposed the matchto himlong before he had discovered any flattering symptoms inMissBridgethad been greatly enamoured; that is to sayof Mr.Allworthy'shouse and gardensand of his landstenementsandhereditaments;of all which the captain was passionately fondthat hewould mostprobably have contracted marriage with had he beenobliged tohave taken the witch of Endor into the bargain.

  AsMr. Allworthythereforehad declared to the doctor that heneverintended to take a second wifeas his sister was his nearestrelationand as the doctor had fished out that his intentions were tomake anychild of hers his heirwhich indeed the lawwithout hisinterpositionwould have done for him; the doctor and his brotherthought itan act of benevolence to give being to a human creaturewho wouldbe so plentifully provided with the most essential meansofhappiness. The whole thoughtsthereforeof both the brothers werehow toengage the affections of this amiable lady.

  Butfortunewho is a tender parentand often doth more for herfavouriteoffspring than either they deserve or wishhad been soindustriousfor the captainthat whilst he was laying schemes toexecutehis purposethe lady conceived the same desires with himselfand was onher side contriving how to give the captain properencouragementwithout appearing too forward; for she was a strictobserverof all rules of decorum. In thishowevershe easilysucceeded;for as the captain was always on the look-outno glancegestureor word escaped him.

  Thesatisfaction which the captain received from the kindbehaviourof Miss Bridgetwas not a little abated by hisapprehensionsof Mr. Allworthy; fornotwithstanding his disinterestedprofessionsthe captain imagined he wouldwhen he came to actfollow theexample of the rest of the worldand refuse his consent toa match sodisadvantageousin point of interestto his sister.From whatoracle he received this opinionI shall leave the reader todetermine:but however he came by itit strangely perplexed him howtoregulate his conduct so as at once to convey his affection to theladyandto conceal it from her brother. He at length resolved totake allprivate opportunities of making his addresses; but in thepresenceof Mr. Allworthy to be as reserved and as much upon his guardas waspossible; and this conduct was highly approved by the brother.

  Hesoon found means to make his addressesin express termstohismistressfrom whom he received an answer in the proper formviz.: theanswer which was first made some thousands of years agoandwhich hathbeen handed down by tradition from mother to daughtereversince. If I was to translate this into LatinI should renderit bythese two wordsNolo Episcopari: a phrase likewise ofimmemorialuse on another occasion.

  Thecaptainhowever he came by his knowledgeperfectly wellunderstoodthe ladyand very soon after repeated his application withmorewarmth and earnestness than beforeand was againaccording todue formrejected; but as he had increased in the eagerness of hisdesiresso the ladywith the same proprietydecreased in theviolenceof her refusal.

  Notto tire the readerby leading him through every scene of thiscourtship(whichthough in the opinion of a certain great authorit is thepleasantest scene of life to the actorisperhapsas dullandtiresome as any whatever to the audience)the captain made hisadvancesin formthe citadel was defended in formand at lengthin properformsurrendered at discretion.

 During this whole timewhich filled the space of near a monththecaptain preserved great distance of behaviour to his lady in thepresenceof the brother; and the more he succeeded with her inprivatethe more reserved was he in public. And as for the ladyshe had nosooner secured her lover than she behaved to him beforecompanywith the highest degree of indifference; so that Mr. Allworthymust havehad the insight of the devil (or perhaps some of his worsequalities)to have entertained the least suspicion of what was goingforward.

Chapter12
Containingwhat the reader mayperhapsexpect to find in it

  Inall bargainswhether to fight or to marryor concerning anyother suchbusinesslittle previous ceremony is required to bring thematter toan issue when both parties are really in earnest. This wasthe caseat presentand in less than a month the captain and his ladywere manand wife.

  Thegreat concern now was to break the matter to Mr. Allworthy;and thiswas undertaken by the doctor.

  Onedaythenas Allworthy was walking in his gardenthe doctorcame tohimandwith great gravity of aspectand all the concernwhich hecould possibly affect in his countenancesaid"I am comesirtoimpart an affair to you of the utmost consequence; but howshall Imention to you what it almost distracts me to think of!" Hethenlaunched forth into the most bitter invectives both against menand women;accusing the former of having no attachment but to theirinterestand the latter of being so addicted to viciousinclinationsthat they could never be safely trusted with one of theother sex."Could I" said he"sirhave suspected that a ladyofsuchprudencesuch judgmentsuch learningshould indulge soindiscreeta passion! or could I have imagined that my brother- whydo I callhim so? he is no longer a brother of mine-"

 "Indeed but he is" said Allworthy"and a brother ofmine too."

 "Bless mesir!" said the doctor"do you know theshocking affair?"

 "Look'eeMr. Blifil" answered the good man"it hathbeen myconstantmaxim in life to make the best of all matters which happen.My sisterthough many years younger than Iis at least old enough tobe at theage of discretion. Had he imposed on a childI shouldhave beenmore averse to have forgiven him; but a woman upwards ofthirtymust certainly be supposed to know what will make her mosthappy. Shehath married a gentlemanthough perhaps not quite herequal infortune; and if he hath any perfections in her eye whichcan makeup that deficiencyI see no reason why I should object toher choiceof her own happiness; which Ino more than herselfimagine toconsist only in immense wealth. I mightperhapsfromthe manydeclarations I have made of complying with almost anyproposalhave expected to have been consulted on this occasion; butthesematters are of a very delicate natureand the scruples ofmodestyperhapsare not to be overcome. As to your brotherI havereally noanger against him at all. He hath no obligations to menor do Ithink he was under any necessity of asking my consentsince thewoman isas I have saidsui jurisand of aproper age tobeentirely answerable only to herself for her conduct."

  Thedoctor accused Mr. Allworthy of too great lenityrepeated hisaccusationsagainst his brotherand declared that he should nevermore bebrought either to seeor to own him for his relation. He thenlaunchedforth into a panegyric on Allworthy's goodness; into thehighestencomiums on his friendship; and concluded by sayingheshouldnever forgive his brother for having put the place which hebore inthat friendship to a hazard.

 Allworthy thus answered: "Had I conceived any displeasureagainstyourbrotherI should never have carried that resentment to theinnocent:but I assure you I have no such displeasure. Your brotherappears tome to be a man of sense and honour. I do not disapprove thetaste ofmy sister; nor will I doubt but that she is equally theobject ofhis inclinations. I have always thought love the onlyfoundationof happiness in a married stateas it can only producethat highand tender friendship which should always be the cement ofthisunion; andin my opinionall those marriages which arecontractedfrom other motives are greatly criminal; they are aprofanationof a most holy ceremonyand generally end in disquiet andmisery:for surely we may call it a profanation to convert this mostsacredinstitution into a wicked sacrifice to lust or avarice: andwhatbetter can be said of those matches to which men are inducedmerely bythe consideration of a beautiful personor a great fortune?

  "Todeny that beauty is an agreeable object to the eyeand evenworthysome admirationwould be false and foolish. Beautiful is anepithetoften used in Scriptureand always mentioned with honour.It was myown fortune to marry a woman whom the world thoughthandsomeand I can truly say I liked her the better on thataccount.But to make this the sole consideration of marriagetolust afterit so violently as to overlook all imperfections for itssakeorto require it so absolutely as to reject and disdainreligionvirtueand sensewhich are qualities in their nature ofmuchhigher perfectiononly because an elegance of person is wanting:this issurely inconsistenteither with a wise man or a goodChristian.And it isperhapsbeing too charitable to conclude thatsuchpersons mean anything more by their marriage than to please theircarnalappetites; for the satisfaction of whichwe are taughtit wasnotordained.

  "Inthe next placewith respect to fortune. Worldly prudenceperhapsexacts some consideration on this head; nor will I absolutelyandaltogether condemn it. As the world is constitutedthe demands ofa marriedstateand the care of posterityrequire some little regardto what wecall circumstances. Yet this provision is greatlyincreasedbeyond what is really necessaryby folly and vanitywhichcreateabundantly more wants than nature. Equipage for the wifeandlargefortunes for the childrenare by custom enrolled in the list ofnecessaries;and to procure theseeverything truly solid and sweetandvirtuous and religiousare neglected and overlooked.

 "And this in many degrees; the last and greatest of which seemsscarcedistinguishable from madness;- I mean where persons of immensefortunescontract themselves to those who areand must bedisagreeableto them- to fools and knaves- in order to increase anestatealready larger even than the demands of their pleasures. Surelysuchpersonsif they will not be thought madmust owneither thatthey areincapable of tasting the sweets of the tenderestfriendshipor that they sacrifice the greatest happiness of whichthey arecapable to the vainuncertainand senseless laws ofvulgaropinionwhich owe as well their force as their foundation tofolly."

 Here Allworthy concluded his sermonto which Blifil had listenedwith theprofoundest attentionthough it cost him some pains topreventnow and then a small discomposure of his muscles. He nowpraisedevery period of what he had heard with the warmth of a youngdivinewho hath the honour to dine with a bishop the same day inwhich hislordship hath mounted the pulpit.

Chapter13
Whichconcludes the first book; with an instance of ingratitudewhichwehopewill appear unnatural

  Thereaderfrom what hath been saidmay imagine that thereconciliation(if indeed it could be so called) was only matter ofform; weshall therefore pass it overand hasten to what mustsurely bethought matter of substance.

  Thedoctor had acquainted his brother with what had past between Mr.Allworthyand him; and added with a smile"I promise you I paid youoff; nayI absolutely desired the good gentleman not to forgiveyou: foryou know after he had made a declaration in your favourImight withsafety venture on such a request with a person of histemper;and I was willingas well for your sake as for my owntopreventthe least possibility of a suspicion."

 Captain Blifil took not the least notice of thisat that time;but heafterwards made a very notable use of it.

  Oneof the maxims which the devilin a late visit upon earthleft tohis disciplesiswhen once you are got upto kick the stoolfrom underyou. In plain Englishwhen you have made your fortune bythe goodoffices of a friendyou are advised to discard him as soonas youcan.

 Whether the captain acted by this maximI will not positivelydetermine:so far we may confidently saythat his actions may befairlyderived from this diabolical principle; and indeed it isdifficultto assign any other motive to them: for no sooner was hepossessedof Miss Bridgetand reconciled to Allworthythan hebegan toshow a coldness to his brother which increased daily; till atlength itgrew into rudenessand became very visible to every one.

 Thedoctor remonstrated to him privately concerning this behaviourbut couldobtain no other satisfaction than the following plaindeclaration:"If you dislike anything in my brother's housesiryou knowyou are at liberty to quit it." This strangecruelandalmostunaccountable ingratitude in the captainabsolutely brokethe poordoctor's heart; for ingratitude never so thoroughly piercesthe humanbreast as when it proceeds from those in whose behalf wehave beenguilty of transgressions. Reflections on great and goodactionshowever they are received or returned by those in whosefavourthey are performedalways administer some comfort to us; butwhatconsolation shall we receive under so biting a calamity as theungratefulbehaviour of our friendwhen our wounded conscience at thesame timeflies in our faceand upbraids us with having spotted it intheservice of one so worthless!

  Mr.Allworthy himself spoke to the captain in his brother'sbehalfand desired to know what offence the doctor had committed;when thehard-hearted villain had the baseness to say that he shouldneverforgive him for the injury which he had endeavoured to do him inhisfavour; whichhe saidhe had pumped out of himand was such acrueltythat it ought not to be forgiven.

 Allworthy spoke in very high terms upon this declarationwhichhe saidbecame not a human creature. He expressedindeedso muchresentmentagainst an unforgiving temperthat the captain at lastpretendedto be convinced by his argumentsand outwardly professed tobereconciled.

  Asfor the brideshe was now in her honeymoonand sopassionatelyfond of her new husband that he never appeared to herto be inthe wrong; and his displeasure against any person was asufficientreason for her dislike to the same.

  Thecaptainat Mr. Allworthy's instancewas outwardlyas wehave saidreconciled to his brother; yet the same rancour remained inhis heart;and he found so many opportunities of giving him privatehints ofthisthat the house at last grew insupportable to the poordoctor;and he chose rather to submit to any inconveniences which hemightencounter in the worldthan longer to bear these cruel andungratefulinsults from a brother for whom he had done so much.

  Heonce intended to acquaint Allworthy with the whole; but hecould notbring himself to submit to the confessionby which hemust taketo his share so great a portion of guilt. Besidesby howmuch theworse man he represented his brother to beso much thegreaterwould his own offence appear to Allworthyand so much thegreaterhe had reason to imaginewould be his resentment.

  Hefeignedthereforesome excuse of business for his departureandpromised to return soon again; and took leave of his brotherwith sowell-dissembled contentthatas the captain played hispart tothe same perfectionAllworthy remained well satisfied withthe truthof the reconciliation.

  Thedoctor went directly to Londonwhere he died soon after of abrokenheart; a distemper which kills many more than is generallyimaginedand would have a fair title to a place in the bill ofmortalitydid it not differ in one instance from all otherdiseases-viz.that no physician can cure it.

 Nowupon the most diligent enquiry into the former lives of thesetwobrothersI findbesides the cursed and hellish maxim of policyabovementionedanother reason for the captain's conduct: thecaptainbesides what we have before said of himwas a man of greatpride andfiercenessand had always treated his brotherwho was of adifferentcomplexionand greatly deficient in both these qualitieswith theutmost air of superiority. The doctorhoweverhad muchthe largershare of learningand was by many reputed to have thebetterunderstanding. This the captain knewand could not bear; forthoughenvy is at best a very malignant passionyet is its bitternessgreatlyheightened by mixing with contempt towards the same object;and verymuch afraid I amthat whenever an obligation is joined tothese twoindignation and not gratitude will be the product of allthree.

BOOK IICONTAININGSCENES OF MATRIMONIAL FELICITY IN DIFFERENT DEGREES OFLIFE; ANDVARIOUS OTHER TRANSACTIONS DURING THE FIRST TWO YEARSAFTER THEMARRIAGE BETWEEN CAPTAIN BLIFIL AND MISS BRIDGET ALLWORTHY

Chapter1
Showingwhat kind of a history this is; what it is likeand what itis notlike

 Though we have properly enough entitled this our worka historyand not alife; nor an apology for a lifeas is more in fashion;yet weintend in it rather to pursue the method of those writerswhoprofess to disclose the revolutions of countriesthan toimitatethe painful and voluminous historianwhoto preserve theregularityof his seriesthinks himself obliged to fill up as muchpaper withthe detail of months and years in which nothingremarkablehappenedas he employs upon those notable aeras when thegreatestscenes have been transacted on the human stage.

 Such histories as these doin realityvery much resemble anewspaperwhich consists of just the same number of wordswhetherthere beany news in it or not. They may likewise be compared to astagecoachwhich performs constantly the same courseempty aswell asfull. The writerindeedseems to think himself obliged tokeep evenpace with timewhose amanuensis he is; andlike hismastertravels as slowly through centuries of monkish dulnesswhenthe worldseems to have been asleepas through that bright and busyage sonobly distinguished by the excellent Latin poet-

    Ad confligendum venientibus undique poenis
    Omnia cum belli trepido concussa tumultu
    Horrida contremuere sub altis aetheris auris;
    In dubioque fuit sub utrorum regna cadendum
    Omnibus humanis essetterraque marique.

Of whichwe wish we could give our readers a more adequate translationthan thatby Mr. Creech-

    When dreadful Carthage frighted Rome with arms
    And all the world was shook with fierce alarms;
    Whilst undecided yetwhich part should fall
    Which nation rise the glorious lord of all.

  Nowit is our purposein the ensuing pagesto pursue a contrarymethod.When any extraordinary scene presents itself (as we trust willoften bethe case)we shall spare no pains nor paper to open it atlarge toour reader; but if whole years should pass withoutproducinganything worthy his noticewe shall not be afraid of achasm inour history; but shall hasten on to matters of consequenceand leavesuch periods of time totally unobserved.

 These are indeed to be considered as blanks in the grand lotteryof time.We thereforewho are the registers of that lotteryshallimitatethose sagacious persons who deal in that which is drawn atGuildhalland who never trouble the public with the many blankstheydispose of; but when a great prize happens to be drawnthenewspapersare presently filled with itand the world is sure to beinformedat whose office it was sold: indeedcommonly two or threedifferentoffices lay claim to the honour of having disposed of it; bywhichIsupposethe adventurers are given to understand that certainbrokersare in the secrets of Fortuneand indeed of her cabinetcouncil.

  Myreader then is not to be surprizedifin the course of thisworkheshall find some chapters very shortand others altogether aslong; somethat contain only the time of a single dayand others thatcompriseyears; in a wordif my history sometimes seems to standstillandsometimes to fly. For all which I shall not look onmyself asaccountable to any court of critical jurisdictionwhatever:for as I amin realitythe founder of a new province ofwritingso I am at liberty to make what laws I please therein. Andtheselawsmy readerswhom I consider as my subjectsare bound tobelieve inand to obey; with which that they may readily andcheerfullycomplyI do hereby assure them that I shall principallyregardtheir ease and advantage in all such institutions: for I donotlikea jure divino tyrantimagine that they are myslavesormycommodity. I amindeedset over them for their own good onlyandwascreated for their useand not they for mine. Nor do I doubtwhile Imake their interest the great rule of my writingsthey willunanimouslyconcur in supporting my dignityand in rendering me allthe honourI shall deserve or desire.

Chapter2
Religiouscautions against showing too much favour to bastards;and agreat discovery made by Mrs. Deborah Wilkins

 Eight months after the celebration of the nuptials between CaptainBlifil andMiss Bridget Allworthya young lady of great beautymeritandfortunewas Miss Bridgetby reason of a frightdeliveredof a fineboy. The child was indeed to all appearances perfect; butthemidwife discovered it was born a month before its full time.

 Though the birth of an heir by his beloved sister was a circumstanceof greatjoy to Mr. Allworthyyet it did not alienate hisaffectionsfrom the little foundlingto whom he had been godfatherhad givenhis own name of Thomasand whom he had hitherto seldomfailed ofvisitingat least once a dayin his nursery.

  Hetold his sisterif she pleasedthe newborn infant should bebred uptogether with little Tommy; to which she consentedthoughwith somelittle reluctance: for she had truly a great complacence forherbrother; and hence she had always behaved towards the foundlingwithrather more kindness than ladies of rigid virtue can sometimesbringthemselves to show to these childrenwhohowever innocentmaybe trulycalled the living monuments of incontinence.

  Thecaptain could not so easily bring himself to bear what hecondemnedas a fault in Mr. Allworthy. He gave him frequent hintsthat toadopt the fruits of sinwas to give countenance to it. Hequotedseveral texts (for he was well read in Scripture)such asHe visitsthe sins of the fathers upon the children; and the fathershave eatensour grapesand children's teeth are set on edge&c.Whence heargued the legality of punishing the crime of the parenton thebastard. He said"Though the law did not positively allowthedestroying such base-born childrenyet it held them to be thechildrenof nobody; that the Church considered them as the children ofnobody;and that at the bestthey ought to be brought up to thelowest andvilest offices of the commonwealth."

  Mr.Allworthy answered to all thisand much morewhich the captainhad urgedon this subject"Thathowever guilty the parents might bethechildren were certainly innocent: that as to the texts he hadquotedthe former of them was a particular denunciation against thejewsforthe sin of idolatryof relinquishing and hating theirheavenlyKing; and the latter was parabolically spokenand ratherintendedto denote the certain and necessary consequences of sinthananyexpress judgment against it. But to represent the Almighty asavengingthe sins of the guilty on the innocentwas indecentifnotblasphemousas it to represent him acting against the firstprinciplesof natural justiceand against the original notions ofright andwrongwhich he himself had implanted in our minds; by whichwe were tojudge not only in all matters which were not revealedbut evenof the truth of revelation itself." He said he knew many heldthe sameprinciples with the captain on this head; but he washimselffirmly convinced to the contraryand would provide in thesamemanner for this poor infantas if a legitimate child had hadfortune tohave been found in the same place.

 While the captain was taking all opportunities to press these andsuch likeargumentsto remove the little foundling from Mr.Allworthy'sof whose fondness for him he began to be jealousMrs.Deborahhad made a discoverywhichin its eventthreatened at leastto provemore fatal to poor Tommy than all the reasonings of thecaptain.

 Whether the insatiable curiosity of this good woman had carriedher on tothat businessor whether she did it to confirm herself inthe goodgraces of Mrs. Blifilwhonotwithstanding her outwardbehaviourto the foundlingfrequently abused the infant in privateand herbrother toofor his fondness to itI will not determine; butshe hadnowas she conceivedfully detected the father of thefoundling.

 Nowas this was a discovery of great consequenceit may benecessaryto trace it from the fountain-head. We shall thereforeveryminutely lay open those previous matters by which it wasproduced;and for that purpose we shall be obliged to reveal all thesecrets ofa little family with which my reader is at present entirelyunacquainted;and of which the oeconomy was so rare and extraordinarythat Ifear it will shock the utmost credulity of many marriedpersons.

Chapter3
Thedescription of a domestic government founded upon rules directlycontraryto those of Aristotle

  Myreader may please to remember he hath been informed that JennyJones hadlived some years with a certain schoolmasterwho hadatherearnest desireinstructed her in Latinin whichto do justiceto hergeniusshe had so improved herselfthat she was become abetterscholar than her master.

 Indeedthough this poor man had undertaken a profession to whichlearningmust be allowed necessarythis was the least of hiscommendations.He was one of the best-natured fellows in the worldand wasat the same timemaster of so much pleasantry and humourthat hewas reputed the wit of the country; and all the neighbouringgentlemenwere so desirous of his companythat as denying was not histalenthespent much time at their houseswhich he mightwithmoreemolumenthave spent in his school.

  Itmay be imagined that a gentleman so qualified and so disposedwas in nodanger of becoming formidable to the learned seminaries ofEton orWestminster. To speak plainlyhis scholars were dividedinto twoclasses: in the upper of which was a young gentlemanthe sonof aneighboring squirewhoat the age of seventeenwas justenteredinto his Syntaxis; and in the lower was a second son of thesamegentlemanwhotogether with seven parish-boyswas learningto readand write.

  Thestipend arising hence would hardly have indulged theschoolmasterin the luxuries of lifehad he not added to thisofficethose of clerk and barberand had not Mr. Allworthy added tothe wholean annuity of ten poundswhich the poor man receivedeveryChristmasand with which he was enabled to cheer his heartduringthat sacred festival.

 Among his other treasuresthe pedagogue had a wifewhom he hadmarriedout of Mr. Allworthy's kitchen for her fortuneviz.twentypoundswhich she had there amassed.

 This woman was not very amiable in her person. Whether she sat to myfriendHogarthor noI will not determine; but she exactly resembledthe youngwoman who is pouring out her mistress's tea in the thirdpicture ofthe Harlot's Progress. She wasbesidesa profest followerof thatnoble sect founded by Xantippe of old; by means of which shebecamemore formidable in the school than her husband; forto confessthe truthhe was never master thereor anywhere elsein herpresence.

 Though her countenance did not denote much natural sweetness oftemperyet this wasperhapssomewhat soured by a circumstance whichgenerallypoisons matrimonial felicity; for children are rightlycalled thepledges of love; and her husbandthough they had beenmarriednine yearshad given her no such pledges; a default for whichhe had noexcuseeither from age or healthbeing not yet thirtyyears oldand what they call a jolly brisk young man.

 Hence arose another evilwhich produced no little uneasiness to thepoorpedagogueof whom she maintained so constant a jealousythat hedursthardly speak to one woman in the parish; for the least degree ofcivilityor even correspondencewith any femalewas sure to bringhis wifeupon her backand his own.

  Inorder to guard herself against matrimonial injuries in her ownhouseasshe kept one maid-servantshe always took care to chuse herout ofthat order of females whose faces are taken as a kind ofsecurityfor their virtue; of which number Jenny Jonesas thereaderhath been before informedwas one.

  Asthe face of this young woman might be called pretty good securityof thebefore-mentioned kindand as her behaviour had been alwaysextremelymodestwhich is the certain consequence of understanding inwomen; shehad passed above four years at Mr. Partridge's (for thatwas theschoolmaster's name) without creating the least suspicion inhermistress. Nayshe had been treated with uncommon kindnessandhermistress had permitted Mr. Partridge to give her thoseinstructionswhich have been before commemorated.

  Butit is with jealousy as with the gout: when such distempers arein thebloodthere is never any security against their breakingout; andthat often on the slightest occasionsand when leastsuspected.

 Thus it happened to Mrs. Partridgewho had submitted four yearsto herhusband's teaching this young womanand had suffered her oftento neglecther work in order to pursue her learning. Forpassing byone dayas the girl was readingand her master leaning over herthegirlIknow not for what reasonsuddenly started up from herchair: andthis was the first time that suspicion ever entered intothe headof her mistress.

 This did nothoweverat that time discover itselfbut lay lurkingin hermindlike a concealed enemywho waits for a reinforcementofadditional strength before he openly declares himself andproceedsupon hostile operations: and such additional strength soonarrived tocorroborate her suspicion; for not long afterthehusbandand wife being at dinnerthe master said to his maidDa mihialiquidpotum: upon which the poor girl smiledperhaps at the badnessof theLatinandwhen her mistress cast her eyes on herblushedpossiblywith a consciousness of having laughed at her master. Mrs.Partridgeupon thisimmediately fell into a furyand discharged thetrencheron which she was eatingat the head of poor Jennycryingout"Youimpudent whoredo you play tricks with my husband before myface?"and at the same instant rose from her chair with a knife in herhandwithwhichmost probablyshe would have executed very tragicalvengeancehad not the girl taken the advantage of being nearer thedoor thanher mistressand avoided her fury by running away: foras to thepoor husbandwhether surprize had rendered himmotionlessor fear (which is full as probable) had restrained himfromventuring at any oppositionhe sat staring and trembling inhis chair;nor did he once offer to move or speaktill his wifereturningfrom the pursuit of Jennymade some defensive measuresnecessaryfor his own preservation; and he likewise was obliged toretreatafter the example of the maid.

 This good woman wasno more than Othelloof a disposition

    To make a life of jealousy
    And follow still the changes of the moon
    With fresh suspicions-

With heras well as him

    ----To be once in doubt
    Was once to be resolv'd-----

shetherefore ordered Jenny immediately to pack up her alls andbegonefor that she was determined she should not sleep that nightwithin herwalls.

  Mr.Partridge had profited too much by experience to interpose ina matterof this nature. He therefore had recourse to his usualreceipt ofpatience; forthough he was not a great adept in Latinherememberedand well understoodthe advice contained in these words:

    ----Leve fitquod bene fertur onus-

inEnglish:

    A burden becomes lightest when it is well borne-

which hehad always in his mouth; and of whichto say the truthhehad oftenoccasion to experience the truth.

 Jenny offered to make protestations of her innocence; but thetempestwas too strong for her to be heard. She then betook herself tothebusiness of packingfor which a small quantity of brown papersufficed;andhaving received her small pittance of wagesshereturnedhome.

  Theschoolmaster and his consort passed their time unpleasantlyenoughthat evening; but something or other happened before the nextmorningwhich a little abated the fury of Mrs. Partridge; and sheat lengthadmitted her husband to make his excuses: to which shegave thereadier beliefas he hadinstead of desiring her torecallJennyprofessed a satisfaction in her being dismissedsayingshe wasgrown of little use as a servantspending all her time inreadingand was becomemoreoververy pert and obstinate; forindeedshe and her master had lately had frequent disputes inliterature;in whichas hath been saidshe was become greatly hissuperior.Thishoweverhe would by no means allow; and as hecalled herpersisting in the rightobstinacyhe began to hate herwith nosmall inveteracy.

Chapter4
Containingone of the most bloody battlesor rather duelsthatwere everrecorded in domestic history

  Forthe reasons mentioned in the preceding chapterand from someothermatrimonial concessionswell known to most husbandsand whichlike thesecrets of freemasonryshould be divulged to none who arenotmembers of that honourable fraternityMrs. Partridge was prettywellsatisfied that she had condemned her husband without causeandendeavouredby acts of kindness to make him amends for her falsesuspicion.Her passions were indeed equally violentwhichever waytheyinclined; for as she could be extremely angryso could she bealtogetheras fond.

  Butthough these passions ordinarily succeed each otherandscarcetwenty-four hours ever passed in which the pedagogue was notin somedegreethe object of both; yeton extraordinary occasionswhen thepassion of anger had raged very highthe remission wasusuallylonger: and so was the case at present; for she continuedlonger ina state of affabilityafter this fit of jealousy was endedthan herhusband had ever known before: andhad it not been forsomelittle exerciseswhich all the followers of Xantippe are obligedto performdailyMr. Partridge would have enjoyed a perfectserenityof several months.

 Perfect calms at sea are always suspected by the experienced marinerto be theforerunners of a storm: and I know some personswhowithoutbeing generally the devotees of superstitionare apt toapprehendthat great and unusual peace or tranquillity will beattendedwith its opposite. For which reason the antients usedonsuchoccasionsto sacrifice to the goddess Nemesisa deity who wasthought bythem to look with an invidious eye on human felicityandto have apeculiar delight in overturning it.

  Aswe are very far from believing in any such heathen goddessorfromencouraging any superstitionso we wish Mr. John Fr--or someother suchphilosopherwould bestir himself a littlein order tofind outthe real cause of this sudden transition from good to badfortunewhich hath been so often remarkedand of which we shallproceed togive an instance; for it is our province to relate factsand weshall leave causes to persons of much higher genius.

 Mankind have always taken great delight in knowing and descanting ontheactions of others. Hence there have beenin all ages and nationscertainplaces set apart for public rendezvouswhere the curiousmight meetand satisfy their mutual curiosity. Among thesethebarbers'shops have justly borne the preeminence. Among the Greeksbarbers'news was a proverbial expression; and Horacein one of hisepistlesmakes honourable mention of the Roman barbers in the samelight.

 Those of England are known to be no wise inferior to their Greekor Romanpredecessors. You there see foreign affairs discussed in amannerlittle inferior to that with which they are handled in thecoffee-houses;and domestic occurrences are much more largely andfreelytreated in the former than in the latter. But this servesonly forthe men. Nowwhereas the females of this countryespeciallythose ofthe lower orderdo associate themselves much more than thoseof othernationsour polity would be highly deficientif they hadnot someplace set apart likewise for the indulgence of theircuriosityseeing they are in this no way inferior to the other halfof thespecies.

  Inenjoyingthereforesuch place of rendezvousthe British fairought toesteem themselves more happy than any of their foreignsisters;as I do not remember either to have read in historyor tohave seenin my travelsanything of the like kind.

 This place then is no other than the chandler's shopthe known seatof all thenews; oras it is vulgarly calledgossipingin everyparish inEngland.

 Mrs. Partridge being one day at this assembly of femaleswasasked byone of her neighboursif she had heard no news lately ofJennyJones? To which she answered in the negative. Upon this theotherrepliedwith a smileThat the parish was very much obligedto her forhaving turned Jenny away as she did.

 Mrs. Partridgewhose jealousyas the reader well knowswas longsincecuredand who had no other quarrel to her maidansweredboldlyShe did not know any obligation the parish had to her onthataccount; for she believed Jenny had scarce left her equalbehindher.

 "Notruly" said the gossip"I hope notthough Ifancy we havesluts enowtoo. Then you have not heardit seemsthat she hathbeenbrought to bed of two bastards? but as they are not born heremyhusbandand the other overseer says we shall not be obliged to keepthem."

 "Two bastards!" answered Mrs. Partridge hastily: "yousurprize me! Idon't knowwhether we must keep them; but I am sure they must havebeenbegotten herefor the wench hath not been nine months goneaway."

 Nothing can be so quick and sudden as the operations of the mindespeciallywhen hopeor fearor jealousyto which the two othersare butjourneymenset it to work. It occurred instantly to herthatJenny hadscarce ever been out of her own house while she lived withher. Theleaning over the chairthe sudden starting upthe Latinthe smileand many other thingsrushed upon her all at once. Thesatisfactionher husband expressed in the departure of Jennyappearednow to beonly dissembled; againin the same instantto be real; butyet toconfirm her jealousyproceeding from satietyand a hundredother badcauses. In a wordshe was convinced of her husband's guiltandimmediately left the assembly in confusion.

  Asfair Grimalkinwhothough the youngest of the feline familydegeneratesnot in ferocity from the elder branches of her houseand thoughinferior in strengthis equal in fierceness to the nobletigerhimselfwhen a little mousewhom it hath long tormented insportescapes from her clutches for a whilefretsscoldsgrowlsswears;but if the trunkor boxbehind which the mouse lay hid beagainremovedshe flies like lightning on her preyandwithenvenomedwrathbitesscratchesmumblesand tears the littleanimal.

  Notwith less fury did Mrs. Partridge fly on the poor pedagogue. Hertongueteethand handsfell all upon him at once. His wig was in aninstanttorn from his headhis shirt from his backand from his facedescendedfive streams of blooddenoting the number of claws withwhichnature had unhappily armed the enemy.

  Mr.Partridge acted for some time on the defensive only; indeed heattemptedonly to guard his face with his hands; but as he foundthat hisantagonist abated nothing of her ragehe thought he mightat leastendeavour to disarm heror rather to confine her arms; indoingwhich her cap fell off in the struggleand her hair being tooshort toreach her shoulderserected itself on her head; her stayslikewisewhich were laced through one single hole at the bottomburstopen; and her breastswhich were much more redundant than herhairhungdown below her middle; her face was likewise marked withthe bloodof her husband: her teeth gnashed with rage; and firesuch assparkles from a smith's forgedarted from her eyes. Sothataltogetherthis Amazonian heroine might have been an objectof terrorto a much bolder man than Mr. Partridge.

  Hehadat lengththe good fortuneby getting possession of herarmstorender those weapons which she wore at the ends of herfingersuseless; which she no sooner perceivedthan the softness ofher sexprevailed over her rageand she presently dissolved in tearswhich soonafter concluded in a fit.

 That small share of sense which Mr. Partridge had hitherto preservedthroughthis scene of furyof the cause of which he was hithertoignorantnow utterly abandoned him. He ran instantly into the streethallowingout that his wife was in the agonies of deathandbeseechingthe neighbours to fly with the utmost haste to herassistance.Several good women obeyed his summonswho entering hishouseandapplying the usual remedies on such occasionsMrs.Partridgewas at lengthto the great joy of her husbandbrought toherself.

  Assoon as she had a little recollected her spiritsand somewhatcomposedherself with a cordialshe began to inform the company ofthemanifold injuries she had received from her husband; whoshesaidwasnot contented to injure her in her bed; butupon herupbraidinghim with ithad treated her in the cruelest mannerimaginable;had tore her cap and hair from her headand her staysfrom herbodygiving herat the same timeseveral blowsthemarks ofwhich she should carry to the grave.

  Thepoor manwho bore on his face many more visible marks of theindignationof his wifestood in silent astonishment at thisaccusation;which the reader willI believebear witness for himhadgreatly exceeded the truth; for indeed he had not struck her once;and thissilence being interpreted to be a confession of the charge bythe wholecourtthey all began at onceuna vocetorebuke andrevilehimrepeating oftenthat none but a coward ever struck awoman.

  Mr.Partridge bore all this patiently; but when his wife appealed tothe bloodon her faceas an evidence of his barbarityhe could nothelplaying claim to his own bloodfor so it really was; as hethought itvery unnaturalthat this should rise up (as we aretaughtthat of a murdered person often doth) in vengeance against him.

  Tothis the women made no other answerthan that it was a pity ithad notcome from his heartinstead of his face; all declaringthatif theirhusbands should lift their hands against themthey wouldhave theirhearts' bloods out of their bodies.

 After much admonition for what was pastand much good advice to Mr.Partridgefor his future behaviourthe company at length departedand leftthe husband and wife to a personal conference togetherinwhich Mr.Partridge soon learned the cause of all his sufferings.

Chapter5
Containingmuch matter to exercise the judgment and reflection ofthe reader

  Ibelieve it is a true observationthat few secrets are divulged toone persononly; but certainlyit would be next to a miracle that afact ofthis kind should be known to a whole parishand not transpireanyfarther.

  Andindeeda very few days had pastbefore the countryto usea commonphraserung of the schoolmaster of Little Baddington; whowas saidto have beaten his wife in the most cruel manner. Nayinsomeplaces it was reported he had murdered her; in othersthat hehad brokeher arms; in othersher legs: in shortthere was scarce aninjurywhich can be done to a human creaturebut what Mrs.Partridgewas somewhere or other affirmed to have received from herhusband.

  Thecause of this quarrel was likewise variously reported; for assomepeople said that Mrs. Partridge had caught her husband in bedwith hismaidso many other reasonsof a very different kindwentabroad.Naysome transferred the guilt to the wifeand thejealousyto the husband.

 Mrs. Wilkins had long ago heard of this quarrel; butas a differentcause fromthe true one had reached her earsshe thought proper toconcealit; and the ratherperhapsas the blame was universally laidon Mr.Partridge; and his wifewhen she was servant to Mr. Allworthyhad insomething offended Mrs. Wilkinswho was not of a veryforgivingtemper.

  ButMrs. Wilkinswhose eyes could see objects at a distanceandwho couldvery well look forward a few years into futurityhadperceiveda strong likelihood of Captain Blifil's being hereafterhermaster; and as she plainly discerned that the captain bore nogreatgoodwill to the little foundlingshe fancied it would berenderinghim an agreeable serviceif she could make anydiscoveriesthat might lessen the affection which Mr. Allworthy seemedto havecontracted for this childand which gave visible uneasinessto thecaptainwho could not entirely conceal it even beforeAllworthyhimself; though his wifewho acted her part much betterin publicfrequently recommended to him her own exampleof connivingat thefolly of her brotherwhichshe saidshe at least as wellperceivedand as much resentedas any other possibly could.

 Mrs. Wilkins having thereforeby accidentgotten a true scent ofthe abovestorythough long after it had happenedfailed not tosatisfyherself thoroughly of all the particulars; and then acquaintedthecaptainthat she had at last discovered the true father of thelittlebastardwhich she was sorryshe saidto see her masterlose hisreputation in the countryby taking so much notice of.

  Thecaptain chid her for the conclusion of her speechas animproperassurance in judging of her master's actions: for if hishonourorhis understandingwould have suffered the captain tomake analliance with Mrs. Wilkinshis pride would by no means haveadmittedit. And to say the truththere is no conduct less politicthan toenter into any confederacy with your friend's servants againsttheirmaster: for by these means you afterwards become the slave ofthese veryservants; by whom you are constantly liable to be betrayed.And thisconsiderationperhaps it waswhich prevented Captain Blifilfrom beingmore explicit with Mrs. Wilkinsor from encouraging theabusewhich she had bestowed on Allworthy.

  Butthough he declared no satisfaction to Mrs. Wilkins at thisdiscoveryhe enjoyed not a little from it in his own mindandresolvedto make the best use of it he was able.

  Hekept this matter a long time concealed within his own breastin hopesthat Mr. Allworthy might hear it from some other person;but Mrs.Wilkinswhether she resented the captain's behaviourorwhetherhis cunning was beyond herand she feared the discovery mightdispleasehimnever afterwards opened her lips about the matter.

  Ihave thought it somewhat strangeupon reflectionthat thehousekeepernever acquainted Mrs. Blifil with this newsas womenare moreinclined to communicate all pieces of intelligence to theirown sexthan to ours. The only wayas it appears to meof solvingthisdifficultyisby imputing it to that distance which was nowgrownbetween the lady and the housekeeper: whether this arose froma jealousyin Mrs. Blifilthat Wilkins showed too great a respectto thefoundling; for while she was endeavouring to ruin the littleinfantinorder to ingratiate herself with the captainshe was everyday moreand more commending it before Allworthyas his fondnessfor itevery day increased. Thisnotwithstanding all the care shetook atother times to express the direct contrary to Mrs. Blifilperhapsoffended that delicate ladywho certainly now hated Mrs.Wilkins;and though she did notor possibly could notabsolutelyremove herfrom her placeshe foundhoweverthe means of making herlife veryuneasy. This Mrs. Wilkinsat lengthso resentedthatshe veryopenly showed all manner of respect and fondness to littleTommyinopposition to Mrs. Blifil.

  Thecaptainthereforefinding the story in danger of perishingatlast tookan opportunity to reveal it himself.

  Hewas one day engaged with Mr. Allworthy in a discourse on charity:in whichthe captainwith great learningproved to Mr. Allworthythat theword charity in Scripture nowhere means beneficence orgenerosity.

 "The Christian religion" he said"was instituted formuch noblerpurposesthan to enforce a lesson which many heathen philosophers hadtaught uslong beforeand whichthough it might perhaps be calleda moralvirtuesavoured but little of that sublimeChristian-likedispositionthat vast elevation of thoughtin purity approachingto angelicperfectionto be attainedexpressedand felt only bygrace.Those" he said"came nearer to the Scripture meaningwhounderstoodby it candouror the forming of a benevolent opinion ofourbrethrenand passing a favourable judgment on their actions; avirtuemuch higherand more extensive in its naturethan a pitifuldistributionof almswhichthough we would never so muchprejudiceor even ruin our familiescould never reach many;whereascharityin the other and truer sensemight be extended toallmankind."

  Hesaid"Considering who the disciples wereit would be absurdtoconceive the doctrine of generosityor giving almsto have beenpreachedto them. Andas we could not well imagine this doctrineshould bepreached by its Divine Author to men who could notpractiseitmuch less should we think it understood so by those whocanpractise itand do not.

 "But though" continued he"there isI am afraidlittle meritin thesebenefactionsthere wouldI must confessbe much pleasurein them toa good mindif it was not abated by one consideration. Imeanthatwe are liable to be imposed uponand to confer ourchoicestfavours often on the undeservingas you must own was yourcase inyour bounty to that worthless fellow Partridge: for two orthree suchexamples must greatly lessen the inward satisfactionwhich agood man would otherwise find in generosity; naymay evenmake himtimorous in bestowinglest he should be guilty of supportingviceandencouraging the wicked; a crime of a very black dyeand forwhich itwill by no means be a sufficient excusethat we have notactuallyintended such an encouragement; unless we have used theutmostcaution in chusing the objects of our beneficence. AconsiderationwhichI make no doubthath greatly checked theliberalityof many a worthy and pious man."

  Mr.Allworthy answered"He could not dispute with the captain inthe Greeklanguageand therefore could say nothing as to the truesense ofthe word which is translated charity; but that he hadalwaysthought it was interpreted to consist in actionand thatgivingalms constituted at least one branch of that virtue.

  "Asto the meritorious part" he said"he readily agreed withthecaptain;for where could be the merit of barely discharging a duty?which"he said"let the world charity have what construction itwoulditsufficiently appeared to be from the whole tenor of theNewTestament. And as he thought it an indispensable dutyenjoinedboth bythe Christian lawand by the law of nature itself; so wasit withalso pleasantthat if any duty could be said to be its ownrewardorto pay us while we are discharging itit was this.

  "Toconfess the truth" said he"there is one degree ofgenerosity(of charity I would have called it)which seems to havesome showof meritand that iswherefrom a principle ofbenevolenceand Christian lovewe bestow on another what we reallywantourselves; wherein order to lessen the distresses of anotherwecondescend to share some part of themby giving what even ourownnecessities cannot well spare. This isI thinkmeritorious;but torelieve our brethren only with our superfluities; to becharitable(I must use the word) rather at the expense of ourcoffersthan ourselves; to save several families from misery ratherthan hangup an extraordinary picture in our houses or gratify anyother idleridiculous vanity- this seems to be only being humancreatures.NayI will venture to go fartherit is being in somedegreeepicures: for what could the greatest epicure wish ratherthan toeat with many mouths instead of one? which I think may bepredicatedof any one who knows that the bread of many is owing to hisownlargesses.

  "Asto the apprehension of bestowing bounty on such as may hereafterproveunworthy objectsbecause many have proved such; surely it canneverdeter a good man from generosity. I do not think a few or manyexamplesof ingratitude can justify a man's hardening his heartagainstthe distresses of his fellow-creatures; nor do I believe itcan everhave such effect on a truly benevolent mind. Nothing lessthan apersuasion of universal depravity can lock up the charity of agood man;and this persuasion must lead himI thinkeither intoatheismor enthusiasm; but surely it is unfair to argue suchuniversaldepravity from a few vicious individuals; nor was thisIbelieveever done by a manwhoupon searching his own mindfoundonecertain exception to the general rule." He then concluded byasking"who that Partridge waswhom he had called a worthlessfellow?"

  "Imean" said the captain"Partridge the barbertheschoolmasterwhat doyou call him? Partridgethe father of the little childwhich youfound in your bed."

  Mr.Allworthy exprest great surprize at this accountand thecaptain asgreat at his ignorance of it; for he said he had known itabove amonth: and at length recollected with much difficulty thathe wastold it by Mrs. Wilkins.

 Upon thisWilkins was immediately summoned; who having confirmedwhat thecaptain had saidwas by Mr. Allworthyby and with thecaptain'sadvicedispatched to Little Baddingtonto inform herselfof thetruth of the fact: for the captain exprest great dislike at allhastyproceedings in criminal mattersand said he would by no meanshave Mr.Allworthy take any resolution either to the prejudice ofthe childor its fatherbefore he was satisfied that the latter wasguilty;for though he had privately satisfied himself of this from oneofPartridge's neighboursyet he was too generous to give any suchevidenceto Mr. Allworthy.

Chapter6
The trialof Partridgethe schoolmasterfor incontinency; theevidenceof his wife; a short reflection on the wisdom of our law;with othergrave matterswhich those will like best who understandthem most

  Itmay be wondered that a story so well knownand which hadfurnishedso much matter of conversationshould never have beenmentionedto Mr. Allworthy himselfwho was perhaps the only person inthatcountry who had never heard of it.

  Toaccount in some measure for this to the readerI think proper toinformhimthat there was no one in the kingdom less interested inopposingthat doctrine concerning the meaning of the word charitywhich hathbeen seen in the preceding chapterthan our good man.Indeedhewas equally intitled to this virtue in either sense; for asno man wasever more sensible of the wantsor more ready to relievethedistresses of othersso none could be more tender of theircharactersor slower to believe anything to their disadvantage.

 Scandalthereforenever found any access to his table; for as ithath beenlong since observed that you may know a man by hiscompanionsso I will venture to saythatby attending to theconversationat a great man's tableyou may satisfy yourself of hisreligionhis politicshis tasteand indeed of his entiredisposition:for though a few odd fellows will utter their ownsentimentsin all placesyet much the greater part of mankind haveenough ofthe courtier to accommodate their conversation to thetaste andinclination of their superiors.

  Butto return to Mrs. Wilkinswhohaving executed her commissionwith greatdispatchthough at fifteen miles distancebrought backsuchconfirmation of the schoolmaster's guiltthat Mr. Allworthydeterminedto send for the criminaland examine him viva voce. Mr.Partridgethereforewas summoned to attendin order to hisdefence(if he could make any) against this accusation.

  Atthe time appointedbefore Mr. Allworthy himselfatParadise-hallcame as well the said Partridgewith Annehis wifeas Mrs.Wilkins his accuser.

  Andnow Mr. Allworthy being seated in the chair of justiceMr.Partridgewas brought before him. Having heard his accusation from themouth ofMrs. Wilkinshe pleaded not guiltymaking many vehementprotestationsof his innocence.

 Mrs. Partridge was then examinedwhoafter a modest apology forbeingobliged to speak the truth against her husbandrelated allthecircumstances with which the reader hath already beenacquainted;and at last concluded with her husband's confession of hisguilt.

 Whether she had forgiven him or noI will not venture to determine;but it iscertain she was an unwilling witness in this cause; and itisprobable from certain other reasonswould never have beenbrought todepose as she didhad not Mrs. Wilkinswith great artfished allout of her at her own houseand had she not indeed madepromisesin Mr. Allworthy's namethat the punishment of herhusbandshould not be such as might anywise affect his family.

 Partridge still persisted in asserting his innocencethough headmittedhe had made the above-mentioned confession; which hehoweverendeavoured to account forby protesting that he was forcedinto it bythe continued importunity she used: who vowedthatas shewas sureof his guiltshe would never leave tormenting him till hehad ownedit; and faithfully promisedthatin such caseshe wouldnevermention it to him more. Hencehe saidhe had been inducedfalsely toconfess himself guiltythough he was innocent; and that hebelievedhe should have confest a murder from the same motive.

 Mrs. Partridge could not bear this imputation with patience; andhaving noother remedy in the present place but tearsshe calledforth aplentiful assistance from themand then addressing herself toMr.Allworthyshe said (or rather cried)"May it please yourworshipthere never was any poor woman so injured as I am by thatbase man;for this is not the only instance of his falsehood to me.Nomay itplease your worshiphe hath injured my bed many's the goodtime andoften. I could have put up with his drunkenness and neglectof hisbusinessif he had not broke one of the sacred commandments.Besidesif it had been out of doors I had not mattered it so much;but withmy own servantin my own houseunder my own roofto defilemy ownchaste bedwhich to be sure he hathwith his beastly stinkingwhores.Yesyou villainyou have defiled my own bedyou have; andthen youhave charged me with bullocking you into owning the truth. Isit verylikelyan't please your worshipthat I should bullock him? Ihave marksenow about my body to show of his cruelty to me. If you hadbeen amanyou villainyou would have scorned to injure a woman inthatmanner. But you an't half a manyou know it. Nor have you beenhalf ahusband to me. You need run after whoresyou needwhen I'msure-- Andsince he provokes meI am readyan't please yourworshipto take my bodily oath that I found them a-bed together.Whatyouhave forgotI supposewhen you beat me into a fitandmade theblood run down my foreheadbecause I only civilly taxedyou withadultery! but I can prove it by all my neighbours. You havealmostbroke my heartyou haveyou have."

 Here Mr. Allworthy interruptedand begged her to be pacifiedpromisingher that she should have justice; then turning to Partridgewho stoodaghastone half of his wits being hurried away bysurprizeand the other half by fearhe said he was sorry to see therewas sowicked a man in the world. He assured him that hisprevaricatingand lying backward and forward was a great aggravationof hisguilt; for which the only atonement he could make was byconfessionand repentance. He exhorted himthereforeto begin byimmediatelyconfessing the factand not to persist in denying whatwas soplainly proved against him even by his own wife.

 HerereaderI beg your patience a momentwhile I make a justcomplimentto the great wisdom and sagacity of our lawwhichrefuses toadmit the evidence of a wife for or against her husband.Thissaysa certain learned authorwhoI believewas neverquotedbefore in any but a law-bookwould be the means of creating aneternaldissension between them. It wouldindeedbe the means ofmuchperjuryand of much whippingfiningimprisoningtransportingandhanging.

 Partridge stood a while silenttillbeing bid to speakhe said hehadalready spoken the truthand appealed to Heaven for hisinnocenceand lastly to the girl herselfwhom he desired his worshipimmediatelyto send for; for he was ignorantor at least pretended tobe sothat she had left that part of the country.

  Mr.Allworthywhose natural love of justicejoined to his coolnessof tempermade him always a most patient magistrate in hearing allthewitnesses which an accused person could produce in his defenceagreed todefer his final determination of this matter till thearrival ofJennyfor whom he immediately dispatched a messenger;and thenhaving recommended peace between Partridge and his wife(though headdressed himself chiefly to the wrong person)heappointedthem to attend again the third day; for he had sent Jennya wholeday's journey from his own house.

  Atthe appointed time the parties all assembledwhen themessengerreturning brought wordthat Jenny was not to be found;for thatshe had left her habitation a few days beforein companywith arecruiting officer.

  Mr.Allworthy then declared that the evidence of such a slut assheappeared to be would have deserved no credit; but he said he couldnot helpthinking thathad she been presentand would havedeclaredthe truthshe must have confirmed what so manycircumstancestogether with his own confessionand the declarationof hiswife that she had caught her husband in the factdidsufficientlyprove. He therefore once more exhorted Partridge toconfess;but he still avowing his innocenceMr. Allworthy declaredhimselfsatisfied of his guiltand that he was too bad a man toreceiveany encouragement from him. He therefore deprived him of hisannuityand recommended repentance to him on account of anotherworldandindustry to maintain himself and his wife in this.

 There were notperhapsmany more unhappy persons than poorPartridge.He had lost the best part of his income by the evidenceof hiswifeand yet was daily upbraided by her for havingamongotherthingsbeen the occasion of depriving her of that benefit;but suchwas his fortuneand he was obliged to submit to it.

 Though I called him poor Partridge in the last paragraphI wouldhave thereader rather impute that epithet to the compassion in mytemperthan conceive it to be any declaration of his innocence.Whether hewas innocent or not will perhaps appear hereafter; but ifthehistoric muse hath entrusted me with any secretsI will by nomeans beguilty of discovering them till she shall give me leave.

 Here therefore the reader must suspend his curiosity. Certain itis thatwhatever was the truth of the casethere was evidence morethansufficient to convict him before Allworthy; indeedmuch lesswould havesatisfied a bench of justices on an order of bastardy;and yetnotwithstanding the positiveness of Mrs. Partridgewho wouldhave takenthe sacrament upon the matterthere is a possibilitythat theschoolmaster was entirely innocent: for though it appearedclear oncomparing the time when Jenny departed from Little Baddingtonwith thatof her delivery that she had there conceived this infantyet it byno means followed of necessity that Partridge must have beenitsfather; forto omit other particularsthere was in the samehouse alad near eighteenbetween whom and Jenny there hadsubsistedsufficient intimacy to found a reasonable suspicion; andyetsoblind is jealousythis circumstance never once entered intothe headof the enraged wife.

 Whether Partridge repented or notaccording to Mr. Allworthy'sadviceisnot so apparent. Certain it is that his wife repentedheartilyof the evidence she had given against him: especially whenshe foundMrs. Deborah had deceived herand refused to make anyapplicationto Mr. Allworthy on her behalf. She hadhoweversomewhatbettersuccess with Mrs. Blifilwho wasas the reader must haveperceiveda much better-tempered womanand very kindly undertookto solicither brother to restore the annuity; in whichthoughgood-naturemight have some shareyet a stronger and more naturalmotivewill appear in the next chapter.

 These solicitations were nevertheless unsuccessful: for though Mr.Allworthydid not thinkwith some late writersthat mercy consistsonly inpunishing offenders; yet he was as far from thinking that itis properto this excellent quality to pardon great criminalswantonlywithout any reason whatever. Any doubtfulness of the factor anycircumstance of mitigationwas never disregarded: but thepetitionsof an offenderor the intercessions of othersdid not inthe leastaffect him. In a wordhe never pardoned because theoffenderhimselfor his friendswere unwilling that he should bepunished.

 Partridge and his wife were therefore both obliged to submit totheirfate; which was indeed severe enough: for so far was he fromdoublinghis industry on the account of his lessened incomethat hedid in amanner abandon himself to despair; and as he was by natureindolentthat vice now increased upon himwhich means he lost thelittleschool he had; so that neither his wife nor himself wouldhave hadany bread to eathad not the charity of some goodChristianinterposedand provided them with what was justsufficientfor their sustenance.

  Asthis support was conveyed to them by an unknown handtheyimaginedand soI doubt notwill the readerthat Mr. Allworthyhimselfwas their secret benefactor; whothough he would not openlyencouragevicecould yet privately relieve the distresses of theviciousthemselveswhen these became too exquisite anddisproportionateto their demerit. In which light their wretchednessappearednow to Fortune herself; for she at length took pity on thismiserablecoupleand considerably lessened the wretched state ofPartridgeby putting a final end to that of his wifewho soonaftercaught the small-poxand died.

  Thejustice which Mr. Allworthy had executed on Partridge at firstmet withuniversal approbation; but no sooner had he felt itsconsequencesthan his neighbours began to relentand tocompassionatehis case; and presently afterto blame that as rigourandseverity which they before called justice. They now exclaimedagainstpunishing in cold bloodand sang forth the praises of mercyandforgiveness.

 These cries were considerably increased by the death of Mrs.Partridgewhichthough owing to the distemper above mentionedwhichis noconsequence of poverty or distressmany were not ashamed toimpute toMr. Allworthy's severityoras they now termed itcruelty.

 Partridge having now lost his wifehis schooland his annuityandtheunknown person having now discontinued the last-mentioned charityresolvedto change the sceneand left the countrywhere he was indanger ofstarvingwith the universal compassion of all hisneighbours.

Chapter7
A shortsketch of that felicity which prudent couples may extractfromhatred: with a short apology for those people who overlookimperfectionsin their friends

 Though the captain had effectually demolished poor Partridgeyethad he notreaped the harvest he hoped forwhich was to turn thefoundlingout of Mr. Allworthy's house.

  Onthe contrarythat gentleman grew every day fonder of littleTommyasif he intended to counterbalance his severity to thefatherwith extraordinary fondness and affection towards the son.

 This a good deal soured the captain's temperas did all the otherdailyinstances of Mr. Allworthy's generosity; for he looked on allsuchlargesses to be diminutions of his own wealth.

  Inthiswe have saidhe did not agree with his wife; norindeedinanything else: for though an affection placed on theunderstandingisby many wise personsthought more durable than thatwhich isfounded on beautyyet it happened otherwise in the presentcase. Naythe understandings of this couple were their principal boneofcontentionand one great cause of many quarrelswhich from timeto timearose between them; and which at last endedon the side ofthe ladyin a sovereign contempt for her husband; and on thehusband'sin an utter abhorrence of his wife.

  Asthese had both exercised their talents chiefly in the study ofdivinitythis wasfrom their first acquaintancethe most commontopic ofconversation between them. The captainlike a well-bred manhadbefore marriagealways given up his opinion to that of the lady;and thisnot in the clumsy awkward manner of a conceited blockheadwhowhilehe civilly yields to a superior in an argumentis desirousof beingstill known to think himself in the right. The captainonthecontrarythough one of the proudest fellows in the worldsoabsolutelyyielded the victory to his antagonistthat shewho hadnot theleast doubt of his sincerityretired always from thedisputewith an admiration of her own understanding and a love forhis.

  Butthough this complacence to one whom the captain thoroughlydespisedwas not so uneasy to him as it would have been had any hopesofpreferment made it necessary to show the same submission to aHoadleyor to some other of great reputation in the scienceyet eventhis costhim too much to be endured without some motive. Matrimonythereforehaving removed all such motiveshe grew weary of thiscondescensionand began to treat the opinions of his wife with thathaughtinessand insolencewhich none but those who deserve somecontemptthemselves can bestowand those only who deserve no contemptcan bear.

 When the first torrent of tenderness was overand whenin the calmand longinterval between the fitsreason began to open the eyes ofthe ladyand she saw this alteration of behaviour in the captainwhoat lengthanswered all her arguments only with pish and pshawshe wasfar fromenduring the indignity with a tame submission. Indeeditat firstso highly provoked herthat it might have produced sometragicaleventhad it not taken a more harmless turnby fillingher withthe utmost contempt for her husband's understandingwhichsomewhatqualified her hatred towards him; though of this likewise shehad apretty moderate share.

  Thecaptain's hatred to her was of a purer kind: for as to anyimperfectionsin her knowledge or understandinghe no more despisedher forthemthan for her not being six feet high. In his opinionof thefemale sexhe exceeded the moroseness of Aristotle himself: helooked ona woman as on an animal of domestic useof somewhathigherconsideration than a catsince her offices were of rather moreimportance;but the difference between these two wasin hisestimationso smallthatin his marriage contracted with Mr.Allworthy'slands and tenementsit would have been pretty equal whichof them hehad taken into the bargain. And yet so tender was hispridethat it felt the contempt which his wife now began to expresstowardshim; and thisadded to the surfeit he had before taken of herlovecreated in him a degree of disgust and abhorrenceperhapshardly tobe exceeded.

  Onesituation only of the married state is excluded from pleasure:and thatisa state of indifference: but as many of my readersIhopeknowwhat an exquisite delight there is in conveying pleasure toa belovedobjectso some fewI am afraidmay have experienced thesatisfactionof tormenting one we hate. It isI apprehendto come atthislatter pleasurethat we see both sexes often give up that easeinmarriage which they might otherwise possessthough their matewas neverso disagreeable to them. Hence the wife often puts on fitsof loveand jealousynayeven denies herself any pleasuretodisturband prevent those of her husband; and he againin returnputsfrequent restraints on himselfand stays at home in companywhich hedislikesin order to confine his wife to what she equallydetests.Hencetoomust flow those tears which a widow sometimessoplentifully sheds over the ashes of a husband with whom she led alife ofconstant disquiet and turbulencyand whom now she can neverhope totorment any more.

  Butif ever any couple enjoyed this pleasureit was at presentexperiencedby the captain and his lady. It was always a sufficientreason toeither of them to be obstinate in any opinionthat theother hadpreviously asserted the contrary. If the one proposed anyamusementthe other constantly objected to it: they never loved orhatedcommended or abusedthe same person. And for this reasonasthecaptain looked with an evil eye on the little foundlinghiswife begannow to caress it almost equally with her own child.

  Thereader will be apt to conceivethat this behaviour betweenthehusband and wife did not greatly contribute to Mr. Allworthy'sreposeasit tended so little to that serene happiness which he haddesignedfor all three from this alliance; but the truth isthough hemight be alittle disappointed in his sanguine expectationsyet hewas farfrom being acquainted with the whole matter; foras thecaptainwasfrom certain obvious reasonsmuch on his guard beforehimthelady was obligedfor fear of her brother's displeasuretopursue thesame conduct. In factit is possible for a third person tobe veryintimatenay even to live long in the same housewith amarriedcouplewho have any tolerable discretionand not evenguess atthe sour sentiments which they bear to each other: for thoughthe wholeday may be sometimes too short for hatredas well as forlove; yetthe many hours which they naturally spend togetherapartfrom allobserversfurnish people of tolerable moderation with suchampleopportunity for the enjoyment of either passionthatif theylovetheycan support being a few hours in company without toyingorif theyhatewithout spitting in each other's faces.

  Itis possiblehoweverthat Mr. Allworthy saw enough to render hima littleuneasy; for we are not always to concludethat a wise man isnot hurtbecause he doth not cry out and lament himselflike thoseof achildish or effeminate temper. But indeed it is possible he mightsee somefaults in the captain without any uneasiness at all; formen oftrue wisdom and goodness are contented to take persons andthings asthey arewithout complaining of their imperfectionsorattemptingto amend them. They can see a fault in a friendarelationor an acquaintancewithout ever mentioning it to thepartiesthemselvesor to any others; and this often without lesseningtheiraffection. Indeedunless great discernment be tempered withthisoverlooking dispositionwe ought never to contract friendshipbut with adegree of folly which we can deceive; for I hope my friendswillpardon me when I declareI know none of them without a fault;and Ishould be sorry if I could imagine I had any friend who couldnot seemine. Forgiveness of this kind we give and demand in turn.It is anexercise of friendshipand perhaps none of the leastpleasant.And this forgiveness we must bestowwithout desire ofamendment.There isperhapsno surer mark of follythan anattempt tocorrect the natural infirmities of those we love. Thefinestcomposition of human natureas well as the finest chinamayhave aflaw in it; and thisI am afraidin either caseis equallyincurable;thoughneverthelessthe pattern may remain of the highestvalue.

 Upon the wholethenMr. Allworthy certainly saw some imperfectionsin thecaptain; but as this was a very artful manand eternallyupon hisguard before himthese appeared to him no more thanblemishesin a good characterwhich his goodness made him overlookand hiswisdom prevented him from discovering to the captainhimself.Very different would have been his sentiments had hediscoveredthe whole; which perhaps would in time have been thecasehadthe husband and wife long continued this kind of behaviourto eachother; but this kind Fortune took effectual means topreventby forcing the captain to do that which rendered him againdear tohis wifeand restored all her tenderness and affectiontowardshim.

Chapter8
A receiptto regain the lost affections of a wifewhich hathnever beenknown to fail in the most desperate cases

  Thecaptain was made large amends for the unpleasant minutes whichhe passedin the conversation of his wife (and which were as few as hecouldcontrive to make them)by the pleasant meditations he enjoyedwhenalone.

 These meditations were entirely employed on Mr. Allworthy's fortune;forfirsthe exercised much thought in calculatingas well as hecouldtheexact value of the whole: which calculations he often sawoccasionto alter in his own favour: andsecondly and chieflyhepleasedhimself with intended alterations in the house and gardensand inprojecting many other schemesas well for the improvement ofthe estateas of the grandeur of the place: for this purpose heappliedhimself to the studies of architecture and gardeningand readover manybooks on both these subjects; for these sciencesindeedemployedhis whole timeand formed his only amusement. He at lastcompleteda most excellent plan: and very sorry we arethat it is notin ourpower to present it to our readersince even the luxury of thepresentageI believewould hardly match it. It hadindeedin asuperlativedegreethe two principal ingredients which serve torecommendall great and noble designs of this nature; for itrequiredan immoderate expense to executeand a vast length of timeto bringit to any sort of perfection. The former of thesetheimmensewealth of which the captain supposed Mr. Allworthypossessedand which he thought himself sure of inheritingpromisedveryeffectually to supply; and the latterthe soundness of his ownconstitutionand his time of lifewhich was only what is calledmiddle-ageremoved all apprehension of his not living to accomplish.

 Nothing was wanting to enable him to enter upon the immediateexecutionof this planbut the death of Mr. Allworthy; in calculatingwhich hehad employed much of his own algebrabesides purchasingevery bookextant that treats of the value of livesreversions&c.From allwhich he satisfied himselfthat as he had every day a chanceof thishappeningso had he more than an even chance of its happeningwithin afew years.

  Butwhile the captain was one day busied in deep contemplations ofthis kindone of the most unlucky as well as unseasonable accidentshappenedto him. The utmost malice of Fortune couldindeedhavecontrivednothing so cruelso mal-a-proposso absolutely destructiveto all hisschemes. In shortnot to keep the reader in long suspensejust atthe very instant when his heart was exulting in meditations onthehappiness which would accrue to him by Mr. Allworthy's deathhehimself-died of an apoplexy.

 This unfortunately befel the captain as he was taking his eveningwalk byhimselfso that nobody was present to lend him anyassistanceif indeedany assistance could have preserved him. Hetookthereforemeasure of that proportion of soil which was nowbecomeadequate to all his future purposesand he lay dead on thegroundagreat (though not a living) example of the truth of thatobservationof Horace:

    Tu secanda marmora
      Locas sub ipsum funus; et sepulchri
    Immemorstruis domos.

Whichsentiment I shall thus give to the English reader: "Youprovidethe noblest materials for buildingwhen a pickaxe and a spadeare onlynecessary: and build houses of five hundred by a hundredfeetforgetting that of six by two."

Chapter9
A proof ofthe infallibility of the foregoing receiptin thelamentationsof the widow; with other suitable decorations of deathsuch asphysicians&c.and an epitaph in the true stile

  Mr.Allworthyhis sisterand another ladywere assembled at theaccustomedhour in the supper-roomwherehaving waited aconsiderabletime longer than usualMr. Allworthy first declared hebegan togrow uneasy at the captain's stay (for he was always mostpunctualat his meals); and gave orders that the bell should be rungwithoutthe doorsand especially towards those walks which thecaptainwas wont to use.

  Allthese summons proving ineffectual (for the captain hadbyperverseaccidentbetaken himself to a new walk that evening)Mrs.Blifildeclared she was seriously frightened. Upon which the otherladywhowas one of her most intimate acquaintanceand who well knewthe truestate of her affectionsendeavoured all she could topacifyhertelling her- To be sure she could not help being uneasy;but thatshe should hope the best. Thatperhaps the sweetness oftheevening had inticed the captain to go farther than his usual walk:or hemight be detained at some neighbour's. Mrs. Blifil answeredNo;she wassure some accident had befallen him; for that he would neverstay outwithout sending her wordas he must know how uneasy it wouldmake her.The other ladyhaving no other arguments to usebetookherself tothe entreaties usual on such occasionsand begged hernot tofrighten herselffor it might be of very ill consequence toher ownhealth; andfilling out a very large glass of wineadvisedand at last prevailed with her to drink it.

  Mr.Allworthy now returned into the parlour; for he had been himselfin searchafter the captain. His countenance sufficiently showed theconsternationhe was underwhichindeedhad a good deal deprivedhim ofspeech; but as grief operates variously on different mindsso thesame apprehension which depressed his voiceelevated that ofMrs.Blifil. She now began to bewail herself in very bitter termsandfloods oftears accompanied her lamentations; which the ladyhercompaniondeclared she could not blamebut at the same timedissuadedher from indulging; attempting to moderate the grief ofher friendby philosophical observations on the many disappointmentsto whichhuman life is daily subjectwhichshe saidwas asufficientconsideration to fortify our minds against any accidentshow suddenor terrible soever. She said her brother's example ought toteach herpatiencewhothough indeed he could not be supposed asmuchconcerned as herselfyet wasdoubtlessvery uneasythough hisresignationto the Divine will had restrained his grief within duebounds.

 "Mention not my brother" said Mrs. Blifil; "I aloneam the objectof yourpity. What are the terrors of friendship to what a wifefeels onthese occasions? Ohhe is lost! Somebody hath murdered him-I shallnever see him more!"- Here a torrent of tears had the sameconsequencewith what the suppression had occasioned to Mr. Allworthyand sheremained silent.

  Atthis interval a servant came running inout of breathand criedoutThecaptain was found; andbefore he could proceed fartherhewasfollowed by two morebearing the dead body between them.

 Here the curious reader may observe another diversity in theoperationsof grief: for as Mr. Allworthy had been before silentfromthe samecause which had made his sister vociferous; so did thepresentsightwhich drew tears from the gentlemanput an entire stopto thoseof the lady; who first gave a violent screamand presentlyafter fellinto a fit.

  Theroom was soon full of servantssome of whomwith the ladyvisitantwere employed in care of the wife; and otherswith Mr.Allworthyassisted in carrying off the captain to a warm bed; whereeverymethod was triedin order to restore him to life.

  Andglad should we becould we inform the reader that both thesebodies hadbeen attended with equal success; for those who undertookthe careof the lady succeeded so wellthatafter the fit hadcontinueda decent timeshe again revivedto their greatsatisfaction:but as to the captainall experiments of bleedingchafingdropping&c.proved ineffectual. Deaththat inexorablejudgehadpassed sentence on himand refused to grant him areprievethough two doctors who arrivedand were fee'd at one andthe sameinstantwere his counsel.

 These two doctorswhomto avoid any malicious applicationsweshalldistinguish by the names of Dr. Y. and Dr. Z.having felt hispulse; towitDr. Y. his right armand Dr. Z. his left; bothagreedthat he was absolutely dead; but as to the distemperorcause ofhis deaththey differed; Dr. Y. holding that he died of anapoplexyand Dr. Z. of an epilepsy.

 Hence arose a dispute between the learned menin which eachdeliveredthe reasons of their several opinions. These were of suchequalforcethat they served both to confirm either doctor in his ownsentimentsand made not the least impression on his adversary.

  Tosay the truthevery physician almost hath his favourite diseaseto whichhe ascribes all the victories obtained over human nature. Thegouttherheumatismthe stonethe graveland the consumptionhaveall theirseveral patrons in the faculty; and none more than thenervousfeveror the fever on the spirits. And here we may accountfor thosedisagreements in opinionconcerning the cause of apatient'sdeathwhich sometimes occurbetween the most learned ofthecollege; and which have greatly surprized that part of the worldwho havebeen ignorant of the fact we have above asserted.

  Thereader may perhaps be surprizedthatinstead of endeavouringto revivethe patientthe learned gentlemen should fall immediatelyinto adispute on the occasion of his death; but in reality all suchexperimentshad been made before their arrival: for the captain wasput into awarm bedhad his veins scarifiedhis forehead chafedandall sortsof strong drops applied to his lips and nostrils.

  Thephysiciansthereforefinding themselves anticipated ineverythingthey orderedwere at a loss how to apply that portion oftime whichit is usual and decent to remain for their feeand werethereforenecessitated to find some subject or other for discourse;and whatcould more naturally present itself than that beforementioned?

  Ourdoctors were about to take their leavewhen Mr. Allworthyhavinggiven over the captainand acquiesced in the Divine willbegan toenquire after his sisterwhom he desired them to visitbeforetheir departure.

 This lady was now recovered of her fitandto use the commonphraseaswell as could be expected for one in her condition. Thedoctorsthereforeall previous ceremonies being complied withasthis was anew patientattendedaccording to desireand laid holdon each ofher handsas they had before done on those of the corpse.

  Thecase of the lady was in the other extreme from that of herhusband:for as he was past all the assistance of physicso inrealityshe required none.

 There is nothing more unjust than the vulgar opinionby whichphysiciansare misrepresentedas friends to death. On the contraryIbelieveif the number of those who recover by physic could be opposedto that ofthe martyrs to itthe former would rather exceed thelatter.Naysome are so cautious on this headthatto avoid apossibilityof killing the patientthey abstain from all methods ofcuringand prescribe nothing but what can neither do good nor harm. Ihave heardsome of thesewith great gravitydeliver it as a maxim"ThatNature should be left to do her own workwhile the physicianstands byas it were to clap her on the backand encourage her whenshe dothwell."

  Solittle then did our doctors delight in deaththat theydischargedthe corpse after a single fee; but they were not sodisgustedwith their living patient; concerning whose case theyimmediatelyagreedand fell to prescribing with great diligence.

 Whetheras the lady had at first persuaded her physicians tobelieveher illthey had nowin returnpersuaded her to believeherselfsoI will not determine; but she continued a whole month withall thedecorations of sickness. During this time she was visited byphysiciansattended by nursesand received constant messages fromheracquaintance to enquire after her health.

  Atlength the decent time for sickness and immoderate grief beingexpiredthe doctors were dischargedand the lady began to seecompany;being altered only from what she was beforeby that colourof sadnessin which she had dressed her person and countenance.

  Thecaptain was now interredand mightperhapshave alreadymade alarge progress towards oblivionhad not the friendship ofMr.Allworthy taken care to preserve his memoryby the followingepitaphwhich was written by a man of as great genius as integrityand onewho perfectly well knew the captain.

HERE LIES
IN EXPECTATION OF A JOYFUL RISING
THE BODY OF
CAPTAIN JOHN BLIFIL.
LONDON
HAD THE HONOUR OF HIS BIRTH
OXFORD
HIS EDUCATION.

HE WAS A DUTIFUL SON
A TENDER HUSBAND
AN AFFECTIONATE FATHER
A MOST KIND BROTHER
A SINCERE FRIEND
A DEVOUT CHRISTIAN
AND A GOOD MAN.

HIS INCONSOLABLE WIDOW
HATH ERECTED THIS STONE
THE MONUMENT OF
HER VIRTUES
AND OF HER AFFECTION.

BOOK IIICONTAININGTHE MOST MEMORABLE TRANSACTIONS WHICH PASSED IN THEFAMILY OFMR. ALLWORTHYFROM THE TIME WHEN TOMMY JONES ARRIVED AT THEAGE OFFOURTEENTILL HE ATTAINED THE AGE OF NINETEEN. IN THIS BOOKTHE READERMAY PICK UP SOME HINTS CONCERNING THE EDUCATION OF CHILDREN

Chapter1
Containinglittle or nothing

  Thereader will be pleased to rememberthatat the beginning ofthe secondbook of this historywe gave him a hint of our intentionto passover several large periods of timein which nothinghappenedworthy of being recorded in a chronicle of this kind.

  Inso doingwe do not only consult our own dignity and easebutthe goodand advantage of the reader: for besides that by thesemeans weprevent him from throwing away his timein reading withouteitherpleasure or emolumentwe give himat all such seasonsanopportunityof employing that wonderful sagacityof which he ismasterbyfilling up these vacant spaces of time with hisconjectures;for which purpose we have taken care to qualify him inthepreceding pages.

  Forinstancewhat reader but knows that Mr. Allworthy feltatfirstforthe loss of his friendthose emotions of griefwhich onsuchoccasions enter into all men whose hearts are not composed offlintortheir heads of as solid materials? Againwhat reader dothnot knowthat philosophy and religion in time moderatedand at lastextinguishedthis grief? The former of these teaching the folly andvanity ofitand the latter correcting it as unlawfuland at thesame timeassuaging itby raising future hopes and assuranceswhichenable a strong and religious mind to take leave of a friendonhisdeathbedwith little less indifference than if he was preparingfor a longjourney; andindeedwith little less hope of seeing himagain.

  Norcan the judicious reader be at a greater loss on account of Mrs.BridgetBlifilwhohe may be assuredconducted herself throughthe wholeseason in which grief is to make its appearance on theoutside ofthe bodywith the strictest regard to all the rules ofcustom anddecencysuiting the alterations of her countenance totheseveral alterations of her habit: for as this changed from weedsto blackfrom black to greyfrom grey to whiteso did hercountenancechange from dismal to sorrowfulfrom sorrowful to sadand fromsad to serioustill the day came in which she was allowed toreturn toher former serenity.

  Wehave mentioned these twoas examples only of the task whichmay beimposed on readers of the lowest class. Much higher andharderexercises of judgment and penetration may reasonably beexpectedfrom the upper graduates in criticism. Many notablediscoverieswillI doubt notbe made by suchof the transactionswhichhappened in the family of our worthy manduring all the yearswhich wehave thought proper to pass over: for though nothing worthyof a placein this history occurred within that periodyet didseveralincidents happen of equal importance with those reported bythe dailyand weekly historians of the age; in reading which greatnumbers ofpersons consume a considerable part of their timeverylittleIam afraidto their emolument. Nowin the conjectureshereproposedsome of the most excellent faculties of the mind may beemployedto much advantagesince it is a more useful capacity to beable toforetel the actions of menin any circumstancefrom theircharactersthan to judge of their characters from their actions.TheformerI ownrequires the greater penetration; but may beaccomplishedby true sagacity with no less certainty than the latter.

  Aswe are sensible that much the greatest part of our readers areveryeminently possessed of this qualitywe have left them a space oftwelveyears to exert it in; and shall now bring forth our heroeataboutfourteen years of agenot questioning that many have beenlongimpatient to be introduced to his acquaintance.

Chapter2
The heroeof this great history appears with very bad omens. Alittletale of so low a kind that some may think it not worth theirnotice. Aword or two concerning a squireand more relating to agamekeeperand a schoolmaster

  Aswe determinedwhen we first sat down to write this historytoflatter nomanbut to guide our pen throughout by the directions oftruthweare obliged to bring our heroe on the stage in a much moredisadvantageousmanner than we could wish; and to declare honestlyeven athis first appearancethat it was the universal opinion of allMr.Allworthy's family that he was certainly born to be hanged.

 IndeedI am sorry to say there was too much reason for thisconjecture;the lad having from his earliest years discovered apropensityto many vicesand especially to one which hath as direct atendencyas any other to that fate which we have just now observedto havebeen prophetically denounced against him: he had beenalreadyconvicted of three robberiesviz.of robbing an orchardofstealing a duck out of a farmer's yardand of picking MasterBlifil'spocket of a ball.

  Thevices of this young man weremoreoverheightened by thedisadvantageouslight in which they appeared when opposed to thevirtues ofMaster Blifilhis companion; a youth of so different acast fromlittle Jonesthat not only the family but all theneighbourhoodresounded his praises. He wasindeeda lad of aremarkabledisposition; soberdiscreetand pious beyond his age;qualitieswhich gained him the love of every one who knew him: whileTom Joneswas universally disliked; and many expressed their wonderthat Mr.Allworthy would suffer such a lad to be educated with hisnephewlest the morals of the latter should be corrupted by hisexample.

  Anincident which happened about this time will set the charactersof thesetwo lads more fairly before the discerning reader than isin thepower of the longest dissertation.

  TomJoneswhobad as he ismust serve for the heroe of thishistoryhad only one friend among all the servants of the family; foras to Mrs.Wilkinsshe had long since given him upand was perfectlyreconciledto her mistress. This friend was the gamekeepera fellowof a loosekind of dispositionand who was thought not to entertainmuchstricter notions concerning the difference of meum and tuumthan theyoung gentleman himself. And hence this friendship gaveoccasionto many sarcastical remarks among the domesticsmost ofwhich wereeither proverbs beforeor at least are become so now; andindeedthe wit of them all may be comprised in that short Latinproverb"Noscitur a socio"; whichI thinkis thus expressed inEnglish"You may know him by the company he keeps."

  Tosay the truthsome of that atrocious wickedness in Jonesofwhich wehave just mentioned three examplesmight perhaps bederivedfrom the encouragement he had received from this fellow whoin two orthree instanceshad been what the law calls an accessaryafter thefact: for the whole duckand great part of the appleswereconvertedto the use of the gamekeeper and his family; thoughasJonesalone was discoveredthe poor lad bore not only the wholesmartbutthe whole blame; both which fell again to his lot on thefollowingoccasion.

 Contiguous to Mr. Allworthy's estate was the manor of one of thosegentlemenwho are called preservers of the game. This species ofmenfromthe great severity with which they revenge the death of ahare orpartridgemight be thought to cultivate the same superstitionwith theBannians in India; many of whomwe are tolddedicatetheirwhole lives to the preservation and protection of certainanimals;was it not that our English Bannianswhile they preservethem fromother enemieswill most unmercifully slaughter wholehorseloadsthemselves; so that they stand clearly acquitted of anysuchheathenish superstition.

  Ihaveindeeda much better opinion of this kind of men than isentertainedby someas I take them to answer the order of Natureandthe goodpurposes for which they were ordainedin a more ample mannerthan manyothers. Nowas Horace tells us that there are a set ofhumanbeings

    Fruges consumere nati

"Bornto consume the fruits of the earth"; so I make no manner ofdoubt butthat there are others

    Feras consumere nati

"Bornto consume the beasts of the field"; oras it is commonlycalledthe game; and noneI believewill deny but that thosesquiresfulfil this end of their creation.

 Little Jones went one day a shooting with the gamekeeper; whenhappeningto spring a covey of partridges near the border of thatmanor overwhich Fortuneto fulfil the wise purposes of Naturehadplantedone of the game consumersthe birds flew into itand weremarked (asit is called) by the two sportsmenin some furze bushesabout twoor three hundred paces beyond Mr. Allworthy's dominions.

  Mr.Allworthy had given the fellow strict orderson pain offorfeitinghis placenever to trespass on any of his neighbours; nomore onthose who were less rigid in this matter than on the lord ofthismanor. With regard to othersindeedthese orders had not beenalwaysvery scrupulously kept; but as the disposition of the gentlemanwith whomthe partridges had taken sanctuary was well knownthegamekeeperhad never yet attempted to invade his territories. Norhad hedone it nowhad not the younger sportsmanwho was excessivelyeager topursue the flying gameover-persuaded him; but Jones beingveryimportunatethe otherwho was himself keen enough after thesportyielded to his persuasionsentered the manorand shot oneof thepartridges.

  Thegentleman himself was at that time on horse-backat a littledistancefrom them; and hearing the gun go offhe immediately madetowardsthe placeand discovered poor Tom; for the gamekeeper hadleapt intothe thickest part of the furze-brakewhere he hadhappilyconcealed himself.

  Thegentleman having searched the ladand found the partridgeupon himdenounced great vengeanceswearing he would acquaint Mr.Allworthy.He was as good as his word: for he rode immediately tohis houseand complained of the trespass on his manor in as highterms andas bitter language as if his house had been broken openandthe mostvaluable furniture stole out of it. He addedthat some otherperson wasin his companythough he could not discover him; forthat twoguns had been discharged almost in the same instant. Andsays he"We have found only this partridgebut the Lord knows whatmischiefthey have done."

  Athis return homeTom was presently convened before Mr. Allworthy.He ownedthe factand alledged no other excuse but what was reallytrueviz.that the covey was originally sprung in Mr. Allworthy'sown manor.

  Tomwas then interrogated who was with himwhich Mr. Allworthydeclaredhe was resolved to knowacquainting the culprit with thecircumstanceof the two gunswhich had been deposed by the squire andboth hisservants; but Tom stoutly persisted in asserting that hewas alone;yetto say the truthhe hesitated a little at firstwhichwould have confirmed Mr. Allworthy's beliefhad what the squireand hisservants said wanted any further confirmation.

  Thegamekeeperbeing a suspected personwas now sent forandthequestion put to him; but herelying on the promise which Tomhad madehimto take all upon himselfvery resolutely denied beingin companywith the young gentlemanor indeed having seen him thewholeafternoon.

  Mr.Allworthy then turned towards Tomwith more than usual anger inhiscountenanceand advised him to confess who was with him;repeatingthat he was resolved to know. The ladhoweverstillmaintainedhis resolutionand was dismissed with much wrath by Mr.Allworthywho told him he should have to the next morning to considerof itwhen he should be questioned by another personand inanothermanner.

 Poor Jones spent a very melancholy night; and the more soas he waswithouthis usual companion; for Master Blifil was gone abroad on avisit withhis mother. Fear of the punishment he was to suffer wason thisoccasion his least evil; his chief anxiety beinglest hisconstancyshould fail himand he should be brought to betray thegamekeeperwhose ruin he knew must now be the consequence.

  Nordid the gamekeeper pass his time much better. He had the sameapprehensionswith the youth; for whose honour he had likewise amuchtenderer regard than for his skin.

  Inthe morningwhen Tom attended the reverend Mr. Thwackumtheperson towhom Mr. Allworthy had committed the instruction of thetwo boyshe had the same questions put to him by that gentleman whichhe beenasked the evening beforeto which he returned the sameanswers.The consequence of this wasso severe a whippingthat itpossiblyfell little short of the torture with which confessions arein somecountries extorted from criminals.

  Tombore his punishment with great resolution; and though his masterasked himbetween every strokewhether he would not confesshewascontented to be flead rather than betray his friendor breakthepromise he had made.

  Thegamekeeper was now relieved from his anxietyand Mr.Allworthyhimself began to be concerned at Tom's sufferings: forbesidesthat Mr. Thwackumbeing highly enraged that he was not ableto makethe boy say what he himself pleasedhad carried hisseveritymuch beyond the good man's intentionthis latter began nowto suspectthat the squire had been mistaken; which his extremeeagernessand anger seemed to make probable; and as for what theservantshad said in confirmation of their master's accounthe laidno greatstress upon that. Nowas cruelty and injustice were twoideas ofwhich Mr. Allworthy could by no means support theconsciousnessa single momenthe sent for Tomand after many kindandfriendly exhortationssaid"I am convincedmy dear childthat mysuspicions have wronged you; I am sorry that you have beensoseverely punished on this account." And at last gave him alittlehorse tomake him amends; again repeating his sorrow for what hadpast.

 Tom's guilt now flew in his face more than any severity could makeit. Hecould more easily bear the lashes of Thwackumthan thegenerosityof Allworthy. The tears burst from his eyesand he fellupon hiskneescrying"Ohsiryou are too good to me. Indeed youare.Indeed I don't deserve it." And at that very instantfrom thefulness ofhis hearthad almost betrayed the secret; but the goodgenius ofthe gamekeeper suggested to him what might be theconsequenceto the poor fellowand this consideration sealed hislips.

 Thwackum did all he could to persuade Allworthy from showing anycompassionor kindness to the boysaying"He had persisted in anuntruth";and gave some hintsthat a second whipping might probablybring thematter to light.

  ButMr. Allworthy absolutely refused to consent to the experiment.He saidthe boy had suffered enough already for concealing the trutheven if hewas guiltyseeing that he could have no motive but amistakenpoint of honour for so doing.

 "Honour!" cryed Thwackumwith some warmth"merestubbornness andobstinacy!Can honour teach any one to tell a lieor can any honourexistindependent of religion?"

 This discourse happened at table when dinner was just ended; andthere werepresent Mr. AllworthyMr. Thwackumand a third gentlemanwho nowentered into the debateand whombefore we proceed anyfurtherwe shall briefly introduce to our reader's acquaintance.

Chapter3
Thecharacter of Mr. Square the philosopherand of Mr. Thwackum thedivine;with a dispute concerning-

  Thename of this gentlemanwho had then resided some time at Mr.Allworthy'shousewas Mr. Square. His natural parts were not of thefirstratebut he had greatly improved them by a learned education.He wasdeeply read in the antientsand a profest master of all theworks ofPlato and Aristotle. Upon which great models he hadprincipallyformed himself; sometimes according with the opinion ofthe oneand sometimes with that of the other. In morals he was aprofestPlatonistand in religion he inclined to be an Aristotelian.

  Butthough he hadas we have saidformed his morals on thePlatonicmodelyet he perfectly agreed with the opinion of Aristotleinconsidering that great man rather in the quality of a philosopheror aspeculatistthan as a legislator. This sentiment he carried agreat way;indeedso faras to regard all virtue as matter of theoryonly.Thisit is truehe never affirmedas I have heardto anyone; andyet upon the least attention to his conductI cannot helpthinkingit was his real opinionas it will perfectly reconcilesomecontradictions which might otherwise appear in his character.

 This gentleman and Mr. Thwackum scarce ever met without adisputation;for their tenets were indeed diametrically opposite toeachother. Square held human nature to be the perfection of allvirtueand that vice was a deviation from our naturein the samemanner asdeformity of body is. Thwackumon the contrarymaintainedthat the human mindsince the fallwas nothing but a sinkofiniquitytill purified and redeemed by grace. In one point onlytheyagreedwhich wasin all their discourses on morality never tomentionthe word goodness. The favourite phrase of the formerwas thenaturalbeauty of virtue; that of the latterwas the divine powerof grace.The former measured all actions by the unalterable rule ofrightandthe eternal fitness of things; the latter decided allmatters byauthority; but in doing thishe always used the scripturesand theircommentatorsas the lawyer doth his Coke upon Lyttletonwhere thecomment is of equal authority with the text.

 After this short introductionthe reader will be pleased torememberthat the parson had concluded his speech with a triumphantquestionto which he had apprehended no answer; viz.Can anyhonourexist independent of religion?

  Tothis Square answered; that it was impossible to discoursephilosophicallyconcerning wordstill their meaning was firstestablished:that there were scarce any two words of a more vagueanduncertain significationthan the two he had mentioned; for thatthere werealmost as many different opinions concerning honourasconcerningreligion. "But" says he"if by honour you mean thetruenaturalbeauty of virtueI will maintain it may exist independentof anyreligion whatever. Nay" added he"you yourself will allowit mayexist independent of all but one: so will a Mahometana Jewand allthe maintainers of all the different sects in the world."

 Thwackum repliedthis was arguing with the usual malice of alltheenemies to the true Church. He saidhe doubted not but that alltheinfidels and hereticks in the world wouldif they couldconfinehonour to their own absurd errors and damnable deceptions;"buthonour" says he"is not therefore manifoldbecause therearemanyabsurd opinions about it; nor is religion manifoldbecause therearevarious sects and heresies in the world. When I mentionreligionI mean the Christian religion; and not only the Christianreligionbut the Protestant religion; and not only the Protestantreligionbut the Church of England. And when I mention honourI meanthat modeof Divine grace which is not only consistent withbutdependentuponthis religion; and is consistent with and dependentupon noother. Now to say that the honour I here meanand whichwasIthoughtall the honour I could be supposed to meanwillupholdmust less dictate an untruthis to assert an absurdity tooshockingto be conceived."

  "Ipurposely avoided" says Square"drawing a conclusionwhich Ithoughtevident from what I have said; but if you perceived itI amsure youhave not attempted to answer it. Howeverto drop the articleofreligionI think it is plainfrom what you have saidthat wehavedifferent ideas of honour; or why do we not agree in the sameterms ofits explanation? I have assertedthat true honour and truevirtue arealmost synonymous termsand they are both founded on theunalterablerule of rightand the eternal fitness of things; to whichan untruthbeing absolutely repugnant and contraryit is certain thattruehonour cannot support an untruth. In thisthereforeI thinkwe areagreed; but that this honour can be said to be founded onreligionto which it is antecedentif by religion be meant anypositivelaw--"

  "Iagree" answered Thwackumwith great warmth"with a manwhoassertshonour to be antecedent to religion! Mr. Allworthydid Iagree--?"

  Hewas proceeding when Mr. Allworthy interposedtelling them verycoldlythey had both mistaken his meaning; for that he had saidnothing oftrue honour.- It is possiblehoweverhe would not haveeasilyquieted the disputantswho were growing equally warmhadnotanother matter now fallen outwhich put a final end to theconversationat present.

Chapter4
Containinga necessary apology for the author; and a childishincidentwhich perhaps requires an apology likewise

 Before I proceed fartherI shall beg leave to obviate somemisconstructionsinto which the zeal of some few readers may leadthem; forI would not willingly give offence to anyespecially to menwho arewarm in the cause of virtue or religion.

  Ihopethereforeno man willby the grossest misunderstandingofperversion of my meaningmisrepresent meas endeavouring tocast anyridicule on the greatest perfections of human nature; andwhich doindeedalone purify and ennoble the heart of manand raisehim abovethe brute creation. ThisreaderI will venture to say (andby howmuch the better man you are yourselfby so much the morewill yoube inclined to believe me)that I would rather have buriedthesentiments of these two persons in eternal oblivionthan havedone anyinjury to either of these glorious causes.

  Onthe contraryit is with a view to their servicethat I havetaken uponme to record the lives and actions of two of their falseandpretended champions. A treacherous friend is the most dangerousenemy; andI will say boldlythat both religion and virtue havereceivedmore real discredit from hypocrites than the wittiestprofligatesor infidels could ever cast upon them: nayfartherasthese twoin their purityare rightly called the bands of civilsocietyand are indeed the greatest of blessings; so when poisonedandcorrupted with fraudpretenceand effectationthey havebecome theworst of civil cursesand have enabled men to perpetratethe mostcruel mischiefs to their own species.

 IndeedI doubt not but this ridicule will in general be allowed: mychiefapprehension isas many true and just sentiments often camefrom themouths of these personslest the whole should be takentogetherand I should be conceived to ridicule all alike. Now thereaderwill be pleased to considerthatas neither of these men werefoolsthey could not be supposed to have holden none but wrongprinciplesand to have uttered nothing but absurdities; whatinjusticethereforemust I have done to their charactershad Iselectedonly what was bad! And how horribly wretched and maimedmust theirarguments have appeared!

 Upon the wholeit is not religion or virtuebut the want orthemwhich is here exposed. Had not Thwackum too much neglectedvirtueand Squarereligionin the composition of their severalsystemsand had not both utterly discarded all natural goodness ofheartthey had never been represented as the objects of derision inthishistory; in which we will now proceed.

 This matter thenwhich put an end to the debate mentioned in thelastchapterwas no other than a quarrel between Master Blifil andTom Jonesthe consequence of which had been a bloody nose to theformer;for though Master Blifilnotwithstanding he was theyoungerwas in size above the other's matchyet Tom was much hissuperiorat the noble art of boxing.

 Tomhowevercautiously avoided all engagements with that youth;forbesides that Tommy Jones was an inoffensive lad amidst all hisrogueryand really loved BlifilMr. Thwackum being always the secondof thelatterwould have been sufficient to deter him.

  Butwell says a certain authorNo man is wise at all hours; it isthereforeno wonder that a boy is not so. A difference arising at playbetweenthe two ladsMaster Blifil called Tom a beggarly bastard.Upon whichthe latterwho was somewhat passionate in his dispositionimmediatelycaused that phenomenon in the face of the formerwhich wehave aboveremembered.

 Master Blifil nowwith his blood running from his noseand thetearsgalloping after from his eyesappeared before his uncle and thetremendousThwackum. In which court an indictment of assaultbatteryandwoundingwas instantly preferred against Tom; who in his excuseonlypleaded the provocationwhich was indeed all the matter thatMasterBlifil had omitted.

  Itis indeed possible that this circumstance might have escapedhismemory; forin his replyhe positively insistedthat he hadmade useof no such appellation; adding"Heaven forbid such naughtywordsshould ever come out of his mouth!"

 Tomthough against all form of lawrejoined in affirmance of thewords.Upon which Master Blifil said"It is no wonder. Those who willtell onefibwill hardly stick at another. If I had told my mastersuch awicked fib as you have doneI should be ashamed to show myface."

  "Whatfibchild?" cries Thwackum pretty eagerly.

 "Whyhe told you that nobody was with him a shooting when hekilledthepartridge; but he knows" (here he burst into a flood of tears)"yeshe knowsfor he confessed it to methat Black George thegamekeeperwas there. Nayhe said- yes you did- deny it if you canthat youwould not have confest the truththough master had cut youtopieces."

  Atthis the fire flashed from Thwackum's eyesand he cried out intriumph

"Oh! ho! this is your mistaken notion of honour! This is theboy whowas not to be whipped again!" But Mr. Allworthywith a moregentleaspectturned towards the ladand said"Is this truechild?How cameyou to persist so obstinately in a falsehood?"

  Tomsaid"He scorned a lie as much as any one: but he thought hishonourengaged him to act as he did; for he had promised the poorfellow toconceal him: which" he said"he thought himself fartherobligedtoas the gamekeeper had begged him not to go into thegentleman'smanorand had at last gone himselfin compliance withhispersuasions." He said"This was the whole truth of thematterand hewould take his oath of it"; and concluded with verypassionatelybegging Mr. Allworthy "to have compassion on the poorfellow'sfamilyespecially as he himself only had been guiltyandthe otherhad been very difficultly prevailed on to do what he did.Indeedsir" said he"it could hardly be called a lie that Itold;for thepoor fellow was entirely innocent of the whole matter. Ishouldhave gone alone after the birds; nayI did go at firstand heonlyfollowed me to prevent more mischief. Dopraysirlet me bepunished;take my little horse away again; but praysirforgive poorGeorge."

  Mr.Allworthy hesitated a few momentsand then dismissed theboysadvising them to live more friendly and peaceably together.

Chapter5
Theopinions of the divine and the philosopher concerning the twoboys; withsome reasons for their opinionsand other matters

  Itis probablethat by disclosing this secretwhich had beencommunicatedin the utmost confidence to himyoung Blifil preservedhiscompanion from a good lashing; for the offence of the bloodynose wouldhave been of itself sufficient cause for Thwackum to haveproceededto correction; but now this was totally absorbed in theconsiderationof the other matter; and with regard to thisMr.Allworthydeclared privatelyhe thought the boy deserved rewardratherthan punishmentso that Thwackum's hand was withheld by ageneralpardon.

 Thwackumwhose meditations were full of birchexclaimed againstthis weakandas he said he would venture to call itwicked lenity.To remitthe punishment of such crimes washe saidto encouragethem. Heenlarged much on the correction of childrenand quotedmany textsfrom Solomonand others; which being to be found in somany otherbooksshall not be found here. He then applied himselfto thevice of lyingon which head he was altogether as learned as hehad beenon the other.

 Square saidhe had been endeavouring to reconcile the behaviourof Tomwith his idea of perfect virtuebut could not. He ownedthere wassomething which at first sight appeared like fortitude intheaction; but as fortitude was a virtueand falsehood a vicethey couldby no means agree or unite together. He addedthat as thiswas insome measure to confound virtue and viceit might be worth Mr.Thwackum'sconsiderationwhether a larger castigation might not belaid onupon the account.

  Asboth these learned men concurred in censuring Jonesso were theyno lessunanimous in applauding Master Blifil. To bring truth tolightwasby the parson asserted to be the duty of every religiousman; andby the philosopher this was declared to be highly conformablewith therule of rightand the eternal and unalterable fitness ofthings.

  Allthishoweverweighed very little with Mr. Allworthy. Hecould notbe prevailed on to sign the warrant for the execution ofJones.There was something within his own breast with which theinvinciblefidelity which that youth had preservedcorrespondedmuchbetter than it had done with the religion of Thwackumor withthe virtueof Square. He therefore strictly ordered the former ofthesegentlemen to abstain from laying violent hands on Tom for whathad past.The pedagogue was obliged to obey those orders; but notwithoutgreat reluctanceand frequent mutterings that the boy wouldbecertainly spoiled.

 Towards the gamekeeper the good man behaved with more severity. Hepresentlysummoned that poor fellow before himand after manybitterremonstrancespaid him his wagesand dismist him from hisservice;for Mr. Allworthy rightly observedthat there was a greatdifferencebetween being guilty of a falsehood to excuse yourselfandto excuseanother. He likewise urgedas the principal motive to hisinflexibleseverity against this manthat he had basely sufferedTom Jonesto undergo so heavy a punishment for his sakewhereas heought tohave prevented it by making the discovery himself.

 When this story became publicmany people differed from SquareandThwackumin judging the conduct of the two lads on theoccasion.Master Blifil was generally called a sneaking rascalapoor-spiritedwretchwith other epithets of the like kind; whilst Tomwashonoured with the appellations of a brave lada jolly dogand anhonestfellow. Indeedhis behaviour to Black George muchingratiatedhim with all the servants; for though that fellow wasbeforeuniversally dislikedyet he was no sooner turned away thanhe was asuniversally pitied; and the friendship and gallantry ofTom Joneswas celebrated by them all with the highest applause; andtheycondemned Master Blifil as openly as they durstwithoutincurringthe danger of offending his mother. For all thishoweverpoor Tomsmarted in the flesh; for though Thwackum had beeninhibitedto exercise his arm on the foregoing accountyetas theproverbsaysIt is easy to find a stick&c. So was it easy to find arod; andindeedthe not being able to find one was the only thingwhichcould have kept Thwackum any long time from chastising poorJones.

  Hadthe bare delight in the sport been the only inducement to thepedagogueit is probable Master Blifil would likewise have had hisshare; butthough Mr. Allworthy had given him frequent orders tomake nodifference between the ladsyet was Thwackum altogether askind andgentle to this youthas he was harshnay even barbaroustothe other.To say the truthBlifil had greatly gained his master'saffections;partly by the profound respect he always showed hispersonbut much more by the decent reverence with which he receivedhisdoctrine; for he had got by heartand frequently repeatedhisphrasesand maintained all his master's religious principles with azeal whichwas surprizing in one so youngand which greatlyendearedhim to the worthy preceptor.

  TomJoneson the other handwas not only deficient in outwardtokens ofrespectoften forgetting to pull off his hator to bowat hismaster's approach; but was altogether as unmindful both ofhismaster's precepts and example. He was indeed a thoughtlessgiddyyouthwith little sobriety in his mannersand less in hiscountenance;and would often very impudently and indecently laugh athiscompanion for his serious behaviour.

  Mr.Square had the same reason for his preference of the former lad;for TomJones showed no more regard to the learned discourses whichthisgentleman would sometimes throw away upon himthan to those ofThwackum.He once ventured to make a jest of the rule of right; and atanothertime saidhe believed there was no rule in the worldcapable ofmaking such a man as his father (for so Mr. Allworthysufferedhimself to be called).

 Master Blifilon the contraryhad address enough at sixteen torecommendhimself at one and the same time to both these opposites.With onehe was all religionwith the other he was all virtue. Andwhen bothwere presenthe was profoundly silentwhich bothinterpretedin his favour and in their own.

  Norwas Blifil contented with flattering both these gentlemen totheirfaces; he took frequent occasions of praising them behindtheirbacks to Allworthy; before whomwhen they two were aloneandhis unclecommended any religious or virtuous sentiment (for many suchcameconstantly from him) he seldom failed to ascribe it to the goodinstructionshe had received from either Thwackum or Square; for heknew hisuncle repeated all such compliments to the persons forwhose usethey were meant; and he found by experience the greatimpressionswhich they made on the philosopheras well as on thedivine:forto say the truththere is no kind of flattery soirresistibleas thisat second hand.

  Theyoung gentlemanmoreoversoon perceived how extremely gratefulall thosepanegyrics on his instructors were to Mr. Allworthy himselfas they soloudly resounded the praise of that singular plan ofeducationwhich he had laid down; for this worthy man havingobservedthe imperfect institution of our public schoolsand the manyviceswhich boys were there liable to learnhad resolved to educatehisnephewas well as the other ladwhom he had in a manner adoptedin his ownhouse; where he thought their morals would escape allthatdanger of being corrupted to which they would be unavoidablyexposed inany public school or university.

 Havingthereforedetermined to commit these boys to the tuition ofa privatetutorMr. Thwackum was recommended to him for thatofficebya very particular friendof whose understanding Mr.Allworthyhad a great opinionand in whose integrity he placed muchconfidence.This Thwackum was fellow of a collegewhere he almostentirelyresided; and had a great reputation for learningreligionandsobriety of manners. And these were doubtless the qualificationsby whichMr. Allworthy's friend had been induced to recommend him;thoughindeed this friend had some obligations to Thwackum's familywho werethe most considerable persons in a borough which thatgentlemanrepresented in parliament.

 Thwackumat his first arrivalwas extremely agreeable toAllworthy;and indeed he perfectly answered the character which hadbeen givenof him. Upon longer acquaintancehoweverand moreintimateconversationthis worthy man saw infirmities in the tutorwhich hecould have wished him to have been without; though as thoseseemedgreatly overbalanced by his good qualitiesthey did notinclineMr. Allworthy to part with him: nor would they indeed havejustifiedsuch a proceeding; for the reader is greatly mistakenif heconceivesthat Thwackum appeared to Mr. Allworthy in the same light ashe doth tohim in this history; and he is as much deceivedif heimaginesthat the most intimate acquaintance which he himself couldhave hadwith that divinewould have informed him of those thingswhich wefrom our inspirationare enabled to open and discover. Ofreaderswhofrom such conceits as thesecondemn the wisdom orpenetrationof Mr. AllworthyI shall not scruple to saythat theymake avery bad and ungrateful use of that knowledge which we havecommunicatedto them.

 These apparent errors in the doctrine of Thwackum served greatlytopalliate the contrary errors in that of Squarewhich our goodman noless saw and condemned. He thoughtindeedthat thedifferentexuberancies of these gentlemen would correct theirdifferentimperfections; and that from bothespecially with hisassistancethe two lads would derive sufficient precepts of truereligionand virtue. If the event happened contrary to hisexpectationsthis possibly proceeded from some fault in the planitself;which the reader hath my leave to discoverif he can: forwe do notpretend to introduce any infallible characters into thishistory;where we hope nothing will be found which hath never yet beenseen inhuman nature.

  Toreturn therefore: the reader will notI thinkwonder that thedifferentbehaviour of the two lads above commemoratedproduced thedifferenteffects of which he hath already seen some instance; andbesidesthisthere was another reason for the conduct of thephilosopherand the pedagogue; but this being matter of greatimportancewe shall reveal it in the next chapter.

Chapter6
Containinga better reason still for the before-mentioned opinions

  Itis to be known thenthat those two learned personageswhohavelately made a considerable figure on the theatre of this historyhadfromtheir first arrival at Mr. Allworthy's housetaken so greatanaffectionthe one to his virtuethe other to his religionthatthey hadmeditated the closest alliance with him.

  Forthis purpose they had cast their eyes on that fair widowwhomthough we have not for some time made any mention of herthereaderwetrusthath not forgot. Mrs. Blifil was indeed the objectto whichthey both aspired.

  Itmay seem remarkablethatof four persons whom we havecommemoratedat Mr. Allworthy's housethree of them should fixtheirinclinations on a lady who was never greatly celebrated forherbeautyand who wasmoreovernow a little descended into thevale ofyears; but in reality bosom friendsand intimateacquaintancehave a kind of natural propensity to particularfemales atthe house of a friend- viz.to his grandmothermothersisterdaughterauntnieceor cousinwhen they are rich; and tohis wifesisterdaughterniececousinmistressorservant-maidif they should be handsome.

  Wewould nothoweverhave our reader imaginethat persons of suchcharactersas were supported by Thwackum and Squarewould undertake amatter ofthis kindwhich hath been a little censured by some rigidmoralistsbefore they had thoroughly examined itand consideredwhether itwas (as Shakespear phrases it) "Stuff o' th' conscience"or no.Thwackum was encouraged to the undertaking by reflecting thatto covetyour neighbour's sister is nowhere forbidden: and he knewit was arule in the construction of all lawsthat "Expressum facitcessaretacitum." The sense of which is"When a lawgiver sets downplainlyhis whole meaningwe are prevented from making him meanwhat weplease ourselves." As some instances of womenthereforearementioned in the divine lawwhich forbids us to covet ourneighbour'sgoodsand that of a sister omittedhe concluded it to belawful.And as to Squarewho was in his person what is called a jollyfellowora widow's manhe easily reconciled his choice to theeternalfitness of things.

 Nowas both of these gentlemen were industrious in taking everyopportunityof recommending themselves to the widowtheyapprehendedone certain method wasby giving her son the constantpreferenceto the other lad; and as they conceived the kindness andaffectionwhich Mr. Allworthy showed the lattermust be highlydisagreeableto herthey doubted not but the laying hold on alloccasionsto degrade and vilify himwould be highly pleasing toher; whoas she hated the boymust love all those who did him anyhurt. Inthis Thwackum had the advantage; for while Square couldonlyscarify the poor lad's reputationhe could flea his skin; andindeedheconsidered every lash he gave him as a compliment paid tohismistress; so that he couldwith the utmost proprietyrepeat thisoldflogging line"Castigo te non quod odio habeamsed quod AMEN.I chastisethee not out of hatredbut out of love." And thisindeedhe oftenhad in his mouthor ratheraccording to the old phrasenever moreproperly appliedat his fingers' ends.

  Forthis reasonprincipallythe two gentlemen concurredas wehave seenabovein their opinion concerning the two lads; this beingindeedalmost the only instance of their concurring on any point;forbeside the difference of their principlesthey had both long agostronglysuspected each other's designand hated one another withno littledegree of inveteracy.

 This mutual animosity was a good deal increased by their alternatesuccesses;for Mrs. Blifil knew what they would be at long before theyimaginedit; orindeedintended she should: for they proceededwith greatcautionlest she should be offendedand acquaint Mr.Allworthy.But they had no reason for any such fear; she was wellenoughpleased with a passionof which she intended none shouldhave anyfruits but herself. And the only fruits she designed forherselfwereflattery and courtship; for which purpose she soothedthem byturnsand a long time equally. She wasindeedratherinclinedto favour the parson's principles; but Square's person wasmoreagreeable to her eyefor he was a comly man; whereas thepedagoguedid in countenance very nearly resemble that gentlemanwhoin theHarlot's Progressis seen correcting the ladies in Bridewell.

 Whether Mrs. Blifil had been surfeited with the sweets ofmarriageor disgusted by its bittersor from what other cause itproceededI will not determine; but she could never be brought tolisten toany second proposals. Howevershe at last conversed withSquarewith such a degree of intimacy that malicious tongues beganto whisperthings of herto which as well for the sake of the ladyas thatthey were highly disagreeable to the rule of right and thefitness ofthingswe will give no creditand therefore shall notblot ourpaper with them. The pedagogue'tis certainwhipped onwithoutgetting a step nearer to his journey's end.

 Indeed he had committed a great errorand that Square discoveredmuchsooner than himself. Mrs. Blifil (asperhapsthe reader mayhaveformerly guessed) was not over and above pleased with thebehaviourof her husband; nayto be honestshe absolutely hated himtill hisdeath at last a little reconciled him to her affections. Itwill notbe therefore greatly wondered atif she had not the mostviolentregard to the offspring she had by him. Andin factshehad solittle of this regardthat in his infancy she seldom saw hersonortook any notice of him; and hence she acquiescedafter alittlereluctancein all the favours which Mr. Allworthy showeredon thefoundling; whom the good man called his own boyand in allthings puton an entire equality with Master Blifil. This acquiescencein Mrs.Blifil was considered by the neighboursand by the familyasa mark ofher condescension to her brother's humourand she wasimaginedby all othersas well as Thwackum and Squareto hate thefoundlingin her heart; naythe more civility she showed himthemore theyconceived she detested himand the surer schemes she waslaying forhis ruin: for as they thought it her interest to hatehimitwas very difficult for her to persuade them she did not.

 Thwackum was the more confirmed in his opinionas she had more thanonce slilycaused him to whip Tom Joneswhen Mr. Allworthywho wasan enemyto this exercisewas abroad; whereas she had never given anysuchorders concerning young Blifil. And this had likewise imposeduponSquare. In realitythough she certainly hated her own son- ofwhichhowever monstrous it appearsI am assured she is not asingularinstance- she appearednotwithstanding all her outwardcomplianceto be in her heart sufficiently displeased with all thefavourshown by Mr. Allworthy to the foundling. She frequentlycomplainedof this behind her brother's backand very sharplycensuredhim for itboth to Thwackum and Square; nayshe would throwit in theteeth of Allworthy himselfwhen a little quarrelormiffasit is vulgarly calledarose between them.

 Howeverwhen Tom grew upand gave tokens of that gallantry oftemperwhich greatly recommends men to womenthis disinclinationwhich shehad discovered to him when a childby degrees abatedandat lastshe so evidently demonstrated her affection to him to bemuchstronger than what she bore her own sonthat it was impossibleto mistakeher any longer. She was so desirous of often seeing himanddiscovered such satisfaction and delight in his companythatbefore hewas eighteen years old he was become a rival to bothSquare andThwackum; and what is worsethe whole country began totalk asloudly of her inclination to Tomas they had before done ofthat whichshe had shown to Square: on which account the philosopherconceivedthe most implacable hatred for our poor heroe.

Chapter7
In whichthe author himself makes his appearance on the stage

 Though Mr. Allworthy was not of himself hasty to see things in adisadvantageouslightand was a stranger to the public voicewhichseldomreaches to a brother or a husbandthough it rings in theears ofall the neighbourhood; yet was this affection of Mrs. Blifilto Tomand the preference which she too visibly gave him to her ownsonofthe utmost disadvantage to that youth.

  Forsuch was the compassion which inhabited Mr. Allworthy's mindthatnothing but the steel of justice could ever subdue it. To beunfortunatein any respect was sufficientif there was no demerittocounterpoise itto turn the scale of that good man's pityandto engagehis friendship and his benefaction.

 When therefore he plainly saw Master Blifil was absolutelydetested(for that he was) by his own motherhe beganon thataccountonlyto look with an eye of compassion upon him; and what theeffects ofcompassion arein good and benevolent mindsI need nothereexplain to most of my readers.

 Henceforward he saw every appearance of virtue in the youththroughthe magnifying endand viewed all his faults with the glassinvertedso that they became scarce perceptible. And this perhaps theamiabletemper of pity may make commendable; but the next step theweaknessof human nature alone must excuse; for he no sooner perceivedthatpreference which Mrs. Blifil gave to Tomthan that poor youth(howeverinnocent) began to sink in his affections as he rose in hers.Thisitis truewould of itself alone never have been able toeradicateJones from his bosom; but it was greatly injurious to himandprepared Mr. Allworthy's mind for those impressions whichafterwardsproduced the mighty events that will be contained hereafterin thishistory; and to whichit must be confestthe unfortunateladbyhis own wantonnesswildnessand want of cautiontoo muchcontributed.

  Inrecording some instances of thesewe shallif rightlyunderstoodafford a very useful lesson to those well-disposedyouths whoshall hereafter be our readers; for they may here findthatgoodness of heartand openness of temperthough these maygive themgreat comfort withinand administer to an honest pride intheir ownmindswill by no meansalas! do their business in theworld.Prudence and circumspection are necessary even to the best ofmen. Theyare indeedas it werea guard to Virtuewithout which shecan neverbe safe. It is not enough that your designsnaythatyouractionsare intrinsically good; you must take care they shallappear so.If your inside be never so beautifulyou must preserve afairoutside also. This must be constantly looked toor malice andenvy willtake care to blacken it sothat the sagacity and goodnessof anAllworthy will not be able to see through itand to discern thebeautieswithin. Let thismy young readersbe your constant maximthat noman can be good enough to enable him to neglect the rules ofprudence;nor will Virtue herself look beautifulunless she bebedeckedwith the outward ornaments of decency and decorum. And thispreceptmy worthy disciplesif you read with due attentionyouwillIhopefind sufficiently enforced by examples in thefollowingpages.

  Iask pardon for this short appearanceby way of choruson thestage. Itis in reality for my own sakethatwhile I amdiscoveringthe rocks on which innocence and goodness often splitImay not bemisunderstood to recommend the very means to my worthyreadersby which I intend to show them they will be undone. And thisas I couldnot prevail on any of my actors to speakI myself wasobliged todeclare.

Chapter8
A childishincidentin whichhoweveris seen a good-natureddispositionin Tom Jones

  Thereader may remember that Mr. Allworthy gave Tom Jones a littlehorseasa kind of smart-money for the punishment which he imaginedhe hadsuffered innocently.

 This horse Tom kept above half a yearand then rode him to aneighbouringfairand sold him.

  Athis returnbeing questioned by Thwackum what he had done withthe moneyfor which the horse was soldhe frankly declared he wouldnot tellhim.

 "Oho!" says Thwackum"you will not! then I will haveit out of yourbr-h";that being the place to which he always applied for informationon everydoubtful occasion.

  Tomwas now mounted on the back of a footmanand everythingpreparedfor executionwhen Mr. Allworthyentering the roomgavethecriminal a reprieveand took him with him into another apartment;wherebeing alone with Tomhe put the same question to him whichThwackumhad before asked him.

  Tomansweredhe could in duty refuse him nothing; but as for thattyrannicalrascalhe would never make him any other answer thanwith acudgelwith which he hoped soon to be able to pay him forall hisbarbarities.

  Mr.Allworthy very severely reprimanded the lad for his indecent anddisrespectfulexpressions concerning his master; but much more for hisavowing anintention of revenge. He threatened him with the entireloss ofhis favourif he ever heard such another word from his mouth;forhesaidhe would never support or befriend a reprobate. By theseand thelike declarationshe extorted some compunction from Tominwhich thatyouth was not over-sincere; for he really meditated somereturn forall the smarting favours he had received at the hands ofthepedagogue. He washoweverbrought by Mr. Allworthy to expressa concernfor his resentment against Thwackum; and then the goodmanaftersome wholesome admonitionpermitted him to proceedwhich hedid as follows:-

 "Indeedmy dear sirI love and honour you more than all theworld:I know thegreat obligations I have to youand should detest myselfif Ithought my heart was capable of ingratitude. Could the littlehorse yougave me speakI am sure he could tell you how fond I was ofyourpresent; for I had more pleasure in feeding him than in ridinghim.Indeedsirit went to my heart to part with him; nor would Ihave soldhim upon any other account in the world than what I did. YouyourselfsirI am convincedin my casewould have done the same:for noneever so sensibly felt the misfortunes of others. What wouldyou feeldear sirif you thought yourself the occasion of them?Indeedsirthere never was any misery like theirs."

 "Like whosechild?" says Allworthy: "What do youmean?"

 "Ohsir!" answered Tom"your poor gamekeeperwithall his largefamilyever since your discarding himhave been perishing with allthemiseries of cold and hunger: I could not bear to see these poorwretchesnaked and starvingand at the same time know myself tohave beenthe occasion of all their sufferings. I could not bear itsir; uponmy soulI could not." [Here the tears ran down hischeeksand he thus proceeded.] "It was to save them from absolutedestructionI parted with your dear presentnotwithstanding all thevalue Ihad for it: I sold the horse for themand they have everyfarthingof the money."

  Mr.Allworthy now stood silent for some momentsand before he spokethe tearsstarted from his eyes. He at length dismissed Tom with agentlerebukeadvising him for the future to apply to him in cases ofdistressrather than to use extraordinary means of relieving themhimself.

 This affair was afterwards the subject of much debate betweenThwackumand Square. Thwackum heldthat this was flying in Mr.Allworthy'sfacewho had intended to punish the fellow for hisdisobedience.He saidin some instanceswhat the world calledcharityappeared to him to be opposing the will of the Almightywhichhad markedsome particular persons for destruction; and that thiswas inlike manner acting in opposition to Mr. Allworthy;concludingas usualwith a hearty recommendation of birch.

 Square argued strongly on the other sidein opposition perhaps toThwackumor in compliance with Mr. Allworthywho seemed very much toapprovewhat Jones had done. As to what he urged on this occasionas I amconvinced most of my readers will be much abler advocatesfor poorJonesit would be impertinent to relate it. Indeed it wasnotdifficult to reconcile to the rule of right an action which itwould havebeen impossible to deduce from the rule of wrong.

Chapter9
Containingan incident of a more heinous kindwith the commentsofThwackum and Square

  Ithath been observed by some man of much greater reputation forwisdomthan myselfthat misfortunes seldom come single. An instanceof thismayI believebe seen in those gentlemen who have themisfortuneto have any of their rogueries detected; for here discoveryseldomstops till the whole is come out. Thus it happened to poor Tom;who was nosooner pardoned for selling the horsethan he wasdiscoveredto have some time before sold a fine Bible which Mr.Allworthygave himthe money arising from which sale he haddisposedof in the same manner. This Bible Master Blifil hadpurchasedthough he had already such another of his ownpartly outof respectfor the bookand partly out of friendship to Tombeingunwillingthat the Bible should be sold out of the family athalf-price.He therefore deposited the said half-price himself; for hewas a veryprudent ladand so careful of his moneythat he hadlaid upalmost every penny which he had received from Mr. Allworthy.

 Some people have been noted to be able to read in no book buttheir own.On the contraryfrom the time when Master Blifil was firstpossessedof this Biblehe never used any other. Nayhe was seenreading init much oftener than he had before been in his own. Nowashefrequently asked Thwackum to explain difficult passages to himthatgentleman unfortunately took notice of Tom's namewhich waswritten inmany parts of the book. This brought on an inquirywhichobligedMaster Blifil to discover the whole matter.

 Thwackum was resolved a crime of this kindwhich he calledsacrilegeshould not go unpunished. He therefore proceededimmediatelyto castigation: and not contented with that heacquaintedMr. Allworthyat their next meetingwith this monstrouscrimeasit appeared to him: inveighing against Tom in the mostbittertermsand likening him to the buyers and sellers who weredriven outof the temple.

 Square saw this matter in a very different light. He saidhecould notperceive any higher crime in selling one book than insellinganother. That to sell Bibles was strictly lawful by all lawsbothDivine and humanand consequently there was no unfitness init. Hetold Thwackumthat his great concern on this occasionbrought tohis mind the story of a very devout womanwhoout of pureregard toreligionstole Tillotson's Sermons from a lady of heracquaintance.

 This story caused a vast quantity of blood to rush into the parson'sfacewhich of itself was none of the palest; and he was going toreply withgreat warmth and angerhad not Mrs. Blifilwho waspresent atthis debateinterposed. That lady declared herselfabsolutelyof Mr. Square's side. She arguedindeedvery learnedly insupport ofhis opinion; and concluded with sayingif Tom had beenguilty ofany faultshe must confess her own son appeared to beequallyculpable; for that she could see no difference between thebuyer andthe seller; both of whom were alike to be driven out ofthetemple.

 Mrs. Blifil having declared her opinionput an end to the debate.Square'striumph would almost have stopt his wordshad he neededthem; andThwackumwhofor reasons before-mentioneddurst notventure atdisobliging the ladywas almost choaked withindignation.As to Mr. Allworthyhe saidsince the boy had beenalreadypunished he would not deliver his sentiments on theoccasion;and whether he was or was not angry with the ladI mustleave tothe reader's own conjecture.

 Soon after thisan action was brought against the gamekeeper bySquireWestern (the gentleman in whose manor the partridge waskilled)for depredations of the like kind. This was a mostunfortunatecircumstance for the fellowas it not only of itselfthreatenedhis ruinbut actually prevented Mr. Allworthy fromrestoringhim to his favour: for as that gentleman was walking out oneeveningwith Master Blifil and young Jonesthe latter slily drewhim to thehabitation of Black George; where the family of that poorwretchnamelyhis wife and childrenwere found in all the miserywith whichcoldhungerand nakednesscan affect human creatures:for as tothe money they had received from Jonesformer debts hadconsumedalmost the whole.

 Such a scene as this could not fail of affecting the heart of Mr.Allworthy.He immediately gave the mother a couple of guineaswithwhich hebid her cloath her children. The poor woman burst intotears atthis goodnessand while she was thanking himcould notrefrainfrom expressing her gratitude to Tom; who hadshe saidlongpreserved both her and hers from starving. "We have not"saysshe"hada morsel to eatnor have these poor children had a rag toput onbut what his goodness hath bestowed on us." Forindeedbesidesthe horse and the BibleTom had sacrificed a night-gownand otherthingsto the use of this distressed family.

  Ontheir return homeTom made use of all his eloquence to displaythewretchedness of these peopleand the penitence of Black Georgehimself;and in this he succeeded so wellthat Mr. Allworthy saidhethoughtthe man had suffered enough for what was past; that he wouldforgivehimand think of some means of providing for him and hisfamily.

 Jones was so delighted with this newsthatthough it was dark whentheyreturned homehe could not help going back a milein a showerof rainto acquaint the poor woman with the glad tidings; butlikeotherhasty divulgers of newshe only brought on himself thetrouble ofcontradicting it: for the ill fortune of Black Georgemade useof the very opportunity of his friend's absence to overturnall again.

Chapter10
In whichMaster Blifil and Jones appear in different lights

 Master Blifil fell very short of his companion in the amiablequality ofmercy; but he as greatly exceeded him in one of a muchhigherkindnamelyin justice: in which he followed both thepreceptsand example of Thwackum and Square; for though they wouldboth makefrequent use of the word mercyyet it was plain that inrealitySquare held it to be inconsistent with the rule of right;andThwackum was for doing justiceand leaving mercy to heaven. Thetwogentlemen did indeed somewhat differ in opinion concerning theobjects ofthis sublime virtue; by which Thwackum would probablyhavedestroyed one half of mankindand Square the other half.

 Master Blifil thenthough he had kept silence in the presence ofJonesyetwhen he had better considered the mattercould by nomeansendure the thought of suffering his uncle to confer favours ontheundeserving. He therefore resolved immediately to acquaint himwith thefact which we have above slightly hinted to the reader. Thetruth ofwhich was as follows:

  Thegamekeeperabout a year after he was dismissed from Mr.Allworthy'sserviceand before Tom's selling the horsebeing in wantof breadeither to fill his own mouth or those of his familyas hepassedthrough a field belonging to Mr. Western espied a haresitting inher form. This hare he had basely and barbarously knockedon theheadagainst the laws of the landand no less against thelaws ofsportsmen.

  Thehiggler to whom the hare was soldbeing unfortunately takenmanymonths after with a quantity of game upon himwas obliged tomake hispeace with the squireby becoming evidence against somepoacher.And now Black George was pitched upon by himas being apersonalready obnoxious to Mr. Westernand one of no good fame inthecountry. He wasbesidesthe best sacrifice the higgler couldmakeashe had supplied him with no game since; and by this means thewitnesshad an opportunity of screening his better customers: forthesquirebeing charmed with the power of punishing Black Georgewhom asingle transgression was sufficient to ruinmade no furtherenquiry.

  Hadthis fact been truly laid before Mr. Allworthyit mightprobablyhave done the gamekeeper very little mischief. But there isno zealblinder than that which is inspired with the love of justiceagainstoffenders. Master Blifil had forgot the distance of thetime. Hevaried likewise in the manner of the fact: and by the hastyadditionof the single letter S he considerably altered the story; forhe saidthat George had wired hares. These alterations mightprobablyhave been set righthad not Master Blifil unluckily insistedon apromise of secrecy from Mr. Allworthy before he revealed thematter tohim; but by that means the poor gamekeeper was condemnedwithouthaving an opportunity to defend himself: for as the fact ofkillingthe hareand of the action broughtwere certainly trueMr.Allworthy had no doubt concerning the rest.

 Short-lived then was the joy of these poor people; for Mr. Allworthythe nextmorning declared he had fresh reasonwithout assigning itfor hisangerand strictly forbad Tom to mention George any more:though asfor his familyhe said he would endeavour to keep them fromstarving;but as to the fellow himselfhe would leave him to thelawswhich nothing could keep him from breaking.

  Tomcould by no means divine what had incensed Mr. Allworthyfor ofMasterBlifil he had not the least suspicion. Howeveras hisfriendshipwas to be tired out by no disappointmentshe nowdeterminedto try another method of preserving the poor gamekeeperfrom ruin.

 Jones was lately grown very intimate with Mr. Western. He had sogreatlyrecommended himself to that gentlemanby leaping overfive-barredgatesand by other acts of sportsmanshipthat the squirehaddeclared Tom would certainly make a great man if he had butsufficientencouragement. He often wished he had himself a son withsuchparts; and one day very solemnly asserted at a drinking boutthat Tomshould hunt a pack of hounds for a thousand pound of hismoneywith any huntsman in the whole country.

  Bysuch kind of talents he had so ingratiated himself with thesquirethat he was a most welcome guest at his tableand a favouritecompanionin his sport: everything which the squire held most deartowithisgunsdogsand horseswere now as much at the command ofJonesasif they had been his own. He resolved therefore to makeuse ofthis favour on behalf of his friend Black Georgewhom he hopedtointroduce into Mr. Western's familyin the same capacity inwhich hehad before served Mr. Allworthy.

  Thereaderif he considers that this fellow was already obnoxiousto Mr.Westernand if he considers farther the weighty business bywhich thatgentleman's displeasure had been incurredwill perhapscondemnthis as a foolish and desperate undertaking; but if heshouldtotally condemn young Jones on that accounthe will greatlyapplaudhim for strengthening himself with all imaginable intereston soarduous an occasion.

  Forthis purposethenTom applied to Mr. Western's daughterayoung ladyof about seventeen years of agewhom her fathernextafterthose necessary implements of sport just before mentionedlovedandesteemed above all the world. Nowas she had some influence onthesquireso Tom had some little influence on her. But this beingtheintended heroine of this worka lady with whom we ourselves aregreatly inloveand with whom many of our readers will probably be inlove toobefore we partit is by no means proper she should make herappearanceat the end of a book.

BOOK IVCONTAININGTHE TIME OF A YEAR

Chapter1
Containingfive pages of paper

  Astruth distinguishes our writings from those idle romances whichare filledwith monstersthe productionsnot of naturebut ofdistemperedbrains; and which have been therefore recommended by aneminentcritic to the sole use of the pastry-cook; soon the otherhandwewould avoid any resemblance to that kind of history which acelebratedpoet seems to think is no less calculated for the emolumentof thebreweras the reading it should be always attended with atankard ofgood ale-

    While- history with her comrade ale
    Soothes the sad series of her serious tale.

  Foras this is the liquor of modern historiansnayperhaps theirmuseifwe may believe the opinion of Butlerwho attributesinspirationto aleit ought likewise to be the potation of theirreaderssince every book ought to be read with the same spirit and inthe samemanner as it is writ. Thus the famous author ofHurlothrumbotold a learned bishopthat the reason his lordship couldnot tastethe excellence of his piece wasthat he did not read itwith afiddle in his hand; which instrument he himself had alwayshad in hisownwhen he composed it.

 That our workthereforemight be in no danger of being likenedto thelabours of these historianswe have taken every occasion ofinterspersingthrough the whole sundry similesdescriptionsandother kindof poetical embellishments. These areindeeddesignedto supplythe place of the said aleand to refresh the mindwheneverthoseslumberswhich in a long work are apt to invade the reader aswell asthe writershall begin to creep upon him. Withoutinterruptionsof this kindthe best narrative of plain matter of factmustoverpower every reader; for nothing but the everlastingwatchfulnesswhich Homer has ascribed only to Jove himselfcan beproofagainst a newspaper of many volumes.

  Weshall leave to the reader to determine with what judgment we havechosen theseveral occasions for inserting those ornamental parts ofour work.Surely it will be allowed that none could be more properthan thepresentwhere we are about to introduce a considerablecharacteron the scene; no lessindeedthan the heroine of thisheroichistoricalprosaic poem. Herethereforewe have thoughtproper toprepare the mind of the reader for her receptionby fillingit withevery pleasing image which we can draw from the face ofnature.And for this method we plead many precedents. Firstthis isan artwell known toand much practised byour tragick poetswhoseldomfail to prepare their audience for the reception of theirprincipalcharacters.

 Thus the heroe is always introduced with a flourish of drums andtrumpetsin order to rouse a martial spirit in the audienceand toaccommodatetheir ears to bombast and fustianwhich Mr. Locke's blindman wouldnot have grossly erred in likening to the sound of atrumpet.Againwhen lovers are coming forthsoft music oftenconductsthem on the stageeither to soothe the audience with thesoftnessof the tender passionor to lull and prepare them for thatgentleslumber in which they will most probably be composed by theensuingscene.

  Andnot only the poetsbut the masters of these poetsthe managersofplayhousesseem to be in this secret; forbesides the aforesaidkettle-drums&c.which denote the heroe's approachhe isgenerallyushered on the stage by a large troop of half a dozenscene-shifters;and how necessary these are imagined to hisappearancemay be concluded from the following theatrical story:-

 King Pyrrhus was at dinner at an ale-house bordering on the theatrewhen hewas summoned to go on the stage. The heroebeing unwilling toquit hisshoulder of muttonand as unwilling to draw on himself theindignationof Mr. Wilks (his brother-manager) for making the audiencewaithadbribed these his harbingers to be out of the way. WhileMr. Wilksthereforewas thundering out"Where are the carpenters towalk onbefore King Pyrrhus?" that monarch very quietly eat hismuttonand the audiencehowever impatientwere obliged to entertainthemselveswith music in his absence.

  Tobe plainI much question whether the politicianwho hathgenerallya good nosehath not scented out somewhat of the utility ofthispractice. I am convinced that awful magistrate my lord-mayorcontractsa good deal of that reverence which attends him throughthe yearby the several pageants which precede his pomp. NayImustconfessthat even I myselfwho am not remarkably liable to becaptivatedwith showhave yielded not a little to the impressionsof muchpreceding state. When I have seen a man strutting in aprocessionafter others whose business was only to walk before himIhaveconceived a higher notion of his dignity than I have felt onseeing himin a common situation. But there is one instancewhichcomesexactly up to my purpose. This is the custom of sending on abasket-womanwho is to precede the pomp at a coronationand to strewthe stagewith flowersbefore the great personages begin theirprocession.The antients would certainly have invoked the goddessFlora forthis purposeand it would have been no difficulty for theirpriestsor politicians to have persuaded the people of the realpresenceof the deitythough a plain mortal had personated her andperformedher office. But we have no such design of imposing on ourreader;and therefore those who object to the heathen theologymayif theypleasechange our goddess into the above-mentionedbasket-woman.Our intentionin shortis to introduce our heroinewith theutmost solemnity in our powerwith an elevation of stileand allother circumstances proper to raise the veneration of ourreader.Indeed we wouldfor certain causesadvise those of ourmalereaders who have any heartsto read no fartherwere we not wellassuredthat how amiable soever the picture of our heroine willappearasit is really a copy from naturemany of our faircountry-womenwill be found worthy to satisfy any passionand toanswer anyidea of female perfection which our pencil will be ableto raise.

  Andnowwithout any further prefacewe proceed to our nextchapter.

Chapter2
A shorthint of what we can do in the sublimeand a descriptionof MissSophia Western

 Hushed be every ruder breath. May the heathen ruler of the windsconfine iniron chains the boisterous limbs of noisy Boreasand thesharp-pointednose of bitter-biting Eurus. Do thousweet Zephyrusrisingfrom thy fragrant bedmount the western skyand lead on thosedeliciousgalesthe charms of which call forth the lovely Florafrom herchamberperfumed with pearly dewswhen on the 1st ofJuneherbirth-daythe blooming maidin loose attiregentlytrips itover the verdant meadwhere every flower rises to do herhomagetill the whole field becomes enamelledand colours contendwithsweets which shall ravish her most.

 Socharming may she now appear! and you the feathered choristers ofnaturewhose sweetest notes not even Handel can excelltune yourmelodiousthroats to celebrate her appearance. From love proceeds yourmusicandto love it returns. Awaken therefore that gentle passion ineveryswain: for lo! adorned with all the charms in which nature canarray her;bedecked with beautyyouthsprightlinessinnocencemodestyand tendernessbreathing sweetness from her rosy lipsanddartingbrightness from her sparkling eyesthe lovely Sophia comes!

 Readerperhaps thou hast seen the statue of the Venus de Medicis.Perhapstoothou hast seen the gallery of beauties at Hampton Court.Thoumay'st remember each bright Churchill of the galaxyand allthe toastsof the Kit-cat. Orif their reign was before thy timesatleast thouhast seen their daughtersthe no less dazzling beauties ofthepresent age; whose namesshould we here insertwe apprehend theywould fillthe whole volume.

  Nowif thou hast seen all thesebe not afraid of the rude answerwhich LordRochester once gave to a man who had seen many things.No. Ifthou hast seen all these without knowing what beauty isthouhast noeyes; if without feeling its powerthou hast no heart.

  Yetis it possiblemy friendthat thou mayest have seen allthesewithout being able to form an exact idea of Sophia; for shedid notexactly resemble any of them. She was most like the picture ofLadyRanelagh: andI have heardmore still to the famous dutchess ofMazarine;but most of all she resembled one whose image never candepartfrom my breastand whomif thou dost rememberthou hastthenmyfriendan adequate idea of Sophia.

  Butlest this should not have been thy fortunewe will endeavourwith ourutmost skill to describe this paragonthough we are sensiblethat ourhighest abilities are very inadequate to the task.

 Sophiathenthe only daughter of Mr. Westernwas a middle-sizedwoman; butrather inclining to tall. Her shape was not only exactbutextremelydelicate: and the nice proportion of her arms promised thetruestsymmetry in her limbs. Her hairwhich was blackwas soluxuriantthat it reached her middlebefore she cut it to complywith themodern fashion; and it was now curled so gracefully in herneckthatfew could believe it to be her own. If envy could findany partof the face which demanded less commendation than the restit mightpossibly think her forehead might have been higher withoutprejudiceto her. Her eyebrows were fullevenand arched beyondthe powerof art to imitate. Her black eyes had a lustre in themwhich allher softness could not extinguish. Her nose was exactlyregularand her mouthin which were two rows of ivoryexactlyansweredSir John Suckling's description in those lines:-

    Her lips were redand one was thin
    Compar'd to that was next her chin
      Some bee had stung it newly.

Her cheekswere of the oval kind; and in her right she had a dimplewhich theleast smile discovered. Her chin had certainly its sharein formingthe beauty of her face; but it was difficult to say itwas eitherlarge or smallthough perhaps it was rather of theformerkind. Her complexion had rather more of the lily than of therose; butwhen exercise or modesty increased her natural colournovermilioncould equal it. Then one might indeed cry out with thecelebratedDr. Donne:

    --Her Pure and eloquent blood
    Spoke in her cheeksand so distinctly wrought
    That one might almost say her body thought.

Her neckwas long and finely turned: and hereif I was not afraidofoffending her delicacyI might justly saythe highest beauties ofthe famousVenus de Medicis were outdone. Here was whiteness whichno liliesivorynor alabaster could match. The finest cambricmightindeed be supposed from envy to cover that bosom which wasmuchwhiter than itself.- It was indeed

    Nitor splendens Pario marmore purius.

    A gloss shining beyond the purest brightness of Parian marble.

 Such was the outside of Sophia; nor was this beautiful framedisgracedby an inhabitant unworthy of it. Her mind was every wayequal toher person; naythe latter borrowed some charms from theformer;for when she smiledthe sweetness of her temper diffused thatglory overher countenance which no regularity of features can give.But asthere are no perfections of the mind which do not discoverthemselvesin that perfect intimacy to which we intend to introduceour readerwith this charming young creatureso it is needless tomentionthem here: nayit is a kind of tacit affront to ourreader'sunderstandingand may also rob him of that pleasure which hewillreceive in forming his own judgment of her character.

  Itmayhoweverbe proper to saythat whatever mentalaccomplishmentsshe had derived from naturethey were somewhatimprovedand cultivated by art: for she had been educated under thecare of anauntwho was a lady of great discretionand wasthoroughlyacquainted with the worldhaving lived in her youthabout thecourtwhence she had retired some years since into thecountry.By her conversation and instructionsSophia was perfectlywell bredthough perhaps she wanted a little of that ease in herbehaviourwhich is to be acquired only by habitand living withinwhat iscalled the polite circle. But thisto say the truthis oftentoo dearlypurchased; and though it hath charms so inexpressiblethattheFrenchperhapsamong other qualitiesmean to express thiswhentheydeclare they know not what it is; yet its absence is wellcompensatedby innocence; nor can good sense and a natural gentilityever standin need of it.

Chapter3
Whereinthe history goes back to commemorate a trifling incidentthathappened some years since; but whichtrifling as it washadsomefuture consequences

  Theamiable Sophia was now in her eighteenth yearwhen she isintroducedinto this history. Her fatheras hath been saidwasfonder ofher than of any other human creature. To herthereforeTomJonesappliedin order to engage her interest on the behalf of hisfriend thegamekeeper.

  Butbefore we proceed to this businessa short recapitulation ofsomeprevious matters may be necessary.

 Though the different tempers of Mr. Allworthy and of Mr. Western didnot admitof a very intimate correspondenceyet they lived uponwhat iscalled a decent footing together; by which means the youngpeople ofboth families had been acquainted from their infancy; and asthey wereall near of the same agehad been frequent playmatestogether.

  Thegaiety of Tom's temper suited better with Sophiathan the graveand soberdisposition of Master Blifil. And the preference which shegave theformer of thesewould often appear so plainlythat a lad ofa morepassionate turn than Master Blifil wasmight have shown somedispleasureat it.

  Ashe did nothoweveroutwardly express any such disgustit wouldbe an illoffice in us to pay a visit to the inmost recesses of hismindassome scandalous people search into the most secret affairs oftheirfriendsand often pry into their closets and cupboardsonly todiscovertheir poverty and meanness to the world.

 Howeveras persons who suspect they have given others cause ofoffenceare apt to conclude they are offended; so Sophia imputed anaction ofMaster Blifil to his angerwhich the superior sagacity ofThwackumand Square discerned to have arisen from a much betterprinciple.

  TomJoneswhen very younghad presented Sophia with a little birdwhich hehad taken from the nesthad nursed upand taught to sing.

  Ofthis birdSophiathen about thirteen years oldwas soextremelyfondthat her chief business was to feed and tend itandher chiefpleasure to play with it. By these means little Tommyforso thebird was calledwas become so tamethat it would feed outof thehand of its mistresswould perch upon the fingerand liecontentedin her bosomwhere it seemed almost sensible of its ownhappiness;though she always kept a small string about its legnorwould evertrust it with the liberty of flying away.

  Onedaywhen Mr. Allworthy and his whole family dined at Mr.Western'sMaster Blifilbeing in the garden with little Sophiaandobserving the extreme fondness that she showed for her littlebirddesired her to trust it for a moment in his hands. Sophiapresentlycomplied with the young gentleman's requestand aftersomeprevious cautiondelivered him her bird; of which he was nosooner inpossessionthan he slipt the string from its leg and tossedit intothe air.

  Thefoolish animal no sooner perceived itself at libertythanforgettingall the favours it had received from Sophiait flewdirectlyfrom herand perched on a bough at some distance.

 Sophiaseeing her bird gonescreamed out so loudthat TomJoneswhowas at a little distanceimmediately ran to herassistance.

  Hewas no sooner informed of what had happenedthan he cursedBlifil fora pitiful malicious rascal; and then immediatelystrippingoff his coat he applied himself to climbing the tree towhich thebird escaped.

  Tomhad almost recovered his little namesakewhen the branch onwhich itwas perchedand that hung over a canalbrokeand thepoor ladplumped over head and ears into the water.

 Sophia's concern now changed its object. And as she apprehendedthe boy'slife was in dangershe screamed ten times louder thanbefore;and indeed Master Blifil himself now seconded her with all thevociferationin his power.

  Thecompanywho were sitting in a room next the gardenwereinstantlyalarmedand came all forth; but just as they reached thecanalTom(for the water was luckily pretty shallow in that part)arrivedsafely on shore.

 Thwackum fell violently on poor Tomwho stood dropping andshiveringbefore himwhen Mr. Allworthy desired him to have patience;andturning to Master Blifilsaid"Praychildwhat is the reasonof allthis disturbance?"

 Master Blifil answered"IndeeduncleI am very sorry for whatIhave done;I have been unhappily the occasion of it all. I had MissSophia'sbird in my handand thinking the poor creature languishedforlibertyI own I could not forbear giving it what it desired;for Ialways thought there was something very cruel in confininganything.It seemed to be against the law of natureby whicheverythinghath a right to liberty; nayit is even unchristianforit is notdoing what we would be done by; but if I had imagined MissSophiawould have been so much concerned at itI am sure I neverwould havedone it; nayif I had known what would have happened tothe birditself: for when Master Joneswho climbed up that tree afteritfellinto the waterthe bird took a second flightandpresentlya nasty hawk carried it away."

 Poor Sophiawho now first heard of her little Tommy's fate (for herconcernfor Jones had prevented her perceiving it when it happened)shed ashower of tears. These Mr. Allworthy endeavoured to assuagepromisingher a much finer bird: but she declared she would never haveanother.Her father chid her for crying so for a foolish bird; butcould nothelp telling young Blifilif he was a son of hishisbacksideshould be well flead.

 Sophia now returned to her chamberthe two young gentlemen weresent homeand the rest of the company returned to their bottle; whereaconversation ensued on the subject of the birdso curiousthatwe thinkit deserves a chapter by itself.

Chapter4
Containingsuch very deep and grave mattersthat some readersperhapsmay not relish it

 Square had no sooner lighted his pipethanaddressing himself toAllworthyhe thus began: "SirI cannot help congratulating you onyournephew; whoat an age when few lads have any ideas but ofsensibleobjectsis arrived at a capacity of distinguishing rightfromwrong. To confine anythingseems to me against the law ofnaturebywhich everything hath a right to liberty. These were hiswords; andthe impression they have made on me is never to beeradicated.Can any man have a higher notion of the rule of rightandtheeternal fitness of things? I cannot help promising myselffromsuch adawnthat the meridian of this youth will be equal to thatof eitherthe elder or the younger Brutus."

 Here Thwackum hastily interruptedand spilling some of his wineandswallowing the rest with great eagernessanswered"Fromanotherexpression he made use ofI hope he will resemble much bettermen. Thelaw of nature is a jargon of wordswhich means nothing. Iknow notof any such lawnor of any right which can be derived fromit. To doas we would be done byis indeed a Christian motiveas theboy wellexpressed himself; and I am glad to find my instructions haveborne suchgood fruit."

  "Ifvanity was a thing fit" says Square"I might indulge someonthe sameoccasion; for whence only he can have learnt his notions ofright orwrongI think is pretty apparent. If there be no law ofnaturethere is no right nor wrong."

 "How!" says the parson"do you then banishrevelation? Am I talkingwith adeist or an atheist?"

 "Drink about" says Western. "Pox of your laws ofnature! I don'tknow whatyou meaneither of youby right and wrong. To take away mygirl'sbird was wrongin my opinion; and my neighbour Allworthy maydo as hepleases; but to encourage boys in such practicesis to breedthem up tothe gallows."

 Allworthy answered"That he was sorry for what his nephew haddonebut couldnot consent to punish himas he acted rather from agenerousthan unworthy motive." He said"If the boy had stolen thebirdnonewould have been more ready to vote for a severechastisementthan himself; but it was plain that was not hisdesign":andindeedit was as apparent to himthat he could have noother viewbut what he had himself avowed. (For as to that maliciouspurposewhich Sophia suspectedit never once entered into the head ofMr.Allworthy.) He at length concluded with again blaming the actionasinconsiderateand whichhe saidwas pardonable only in a child.

 Square had delivered his opinion so openlythat if he was nowsilenthemust submit to have his judgment censured. He saidthereforewith some warmth"That Mr. Allworthy had too muchrespect tothe dirty consideration of property. That in passing ourjudgmentson great and mighty actionsall private regards should belaidaside; for by adhering to those narrow rulesthe youngerBrutus hadbeen condemned of ingratitudeand the elder of parricide."

 "And if they had been hanged too for those crimes" criedThwackum"they would have had no more than their deserts. A couple ofheathenishvillains! Heaven be praised we have no Brutuses now-a-days!I wishMr. Squareyou would desist from filling the minds of mypupilswith such antichristian stuff; for the consequence must bewhile theyare under my careits being well scourged out of themagain.There is your disciple Tom almost spoiled already. Ioverheardhim the other day disputing with Master Blifil that therewas nomerit in faith without works. I know that is one of yourtenetsand I suppose he had it from you."

 "Don't accuse me of spoiling him" says Square. "Whotaught him tolaugh atwhatever is virtuous and decentand fit and right in thenature ofthings? He is your own scholarand I disclaim him. NonoMasterBlifil is my boy. Young as he isthat lad's notions ofmoralrectitude I defy you ever to eradicate."

 Thwackum put on a contemptuous sneer at thisand replied"AyayI willventure him with you. He is too well grounded for allyourphilosophical cant to hurt. NonoI have taken care to instilsuchprinciples into him--"

 "And I have instilled principles into him too" criesSquare."Whatbut the sublime idea of virtue could inspire a human mind withthegenerous thought of giving liberty? And I repeat to you againif it wasa fit thing to be proudI might claim the honour ofhavinginfused that idea."-

 "And if pride was not forbidden" said Thwackum"Imight boast ofhavingtaught him that duty which he himself assigned as his motive."

  "Sobetween you both" says the squire"the young gentlemanhathbeentaught to rob my daughter of her bird. I find I must take care ofmypartridge-mew. I shall have some virtuous religious man or otherset all mypartridges at liberty." Then slapping a gentleman of thelawwhowas presenton the backhe cried out"What say you tothisMr.Counsellor? Is not this against law?"

  Thelawyer with great gravity delivered himself as follows:-

  "Ifthe case be put of a partridgethere can be no doubt but anactionwould lie; for though this be ferae naturaeyet beingreclaimedproperty vests: but being the case of a singing birdthoughreclaimedas it is a thing of base natureit must beconsideredas nullius in bonis. In this casethereforeI conceivetheplaintiff must be non-suited; and I should disadvise thebringingany such action."

 "Well" says the squire"if it be nullus bonusletus drink aboutand talk alittle of the state of the nationor some such discoursethat weall understand; for I am sure I don't understand a word ofthis. Itmay be learning and sense for aught I know: but you shallneverpersuade me into it. Pox! you have neither of you mentioned aword ofthat poor lad who deserves to be commended: to venturebreakinghis neck to oblige my girl was a generous-spirited action:I havelearning enough to see that. D--n mehere's Tom's health! Ishall lovethe boy for it the longest day I have to live."

 Thus was the debate interrupted; but it would probably have beensoonresumedhad not Mr. Allworthy presently called for his coachandcarried off the two combatants.

 Such was the conclusion of this adventure of the birdand of thedialogueoccasioned by it; which we could not help recounting to ourreaderthough it happened some years before that stage or period oftime atwhich our history is now arrived.

Chapter5
Containingmatter accommodated to every taste

 "Parva leves capiunt animos- Small things affect light minds"wasthesentiment of a great master of the passion of love. And certain itisthatfrom this day Sophia began to have some little kindness forTom Jonesand no little aversion for his companion.

 Many accidents from time to time improved both these passions in herbreast;whichwithout our recountingthe reader may well concludefrom whatwe have before hinted of the different tempers of theseladsandhow much the one suited with her own inclinations morethan theother. To say the truthSophiawhen very youngdiscernedthat Tomthough an idlethoughtlessrattling rascalwas nobody'senemy buthis own; and that Master Blifilthough a prudentdiscreetsoberyoung gentlemanwas at the same time strongly attached to theinterestonly of one single person; and who that single person was thereaderwill be able to divine without any assistance of ours.

 These two characters are not always received in the world with thedifferentregard which seems severally due to either; and which onewouldimagine mankindfrom self-interestshould show towards them.Butperhaps there may be a political reason for it: in finding oneof a trulybenevolent dispositionmen may very reasonably supposethey havefound a treasureand be desirous of keeping itlike allother goodthingsto themselves. Hence they may imaginethat totrumpetforth the praises of such a personwouldin the vulgarphrasebecrying Roast-meatand calling in partakers of what theyintend toapply solely to their own use. If this reason does notsatisfythe readerI know no other means of accounting for the littlerespectwhich I have commonly seen paid to a character which reallydoes greathonour to human natureand is productive of the highestgood tosociety. But it was otherwise with Sophia. She honoured TomJonesandscorned Master Blifilalmost as soon as she knew themeaning ofthose two words.

 Sophia had been absent upwards of three years with her aunt;during allwhich time she had seldom seen either of these younggentlemen.She dinedhoweveroncetogether with her auntat Mr.Allworthy's.This was a few days after the adventure of the partridgebeforecommemorated. Sophia heard the whole story at tablewhereshe saidnothing: nor indeed could her aunt get many words from her asshereturned home; but her maidwhen undressing herhappening tosay"WellmissI suppose you have seen young Master Blifilto-day?"she answered with much passion"I hate the name of MasterBlifilasI do whatever is base and treacherous: and I wonder Mr.Allworthywould suffer that old barbarous schoolmaster to punish apoor boyso cruelly for what was only the effect of hisgood-nature."She then recounted the story to her maidandconcludedwith saying"Don't you think he is a boy of noble spirit?"

 This young lady was now returned to her father; who gave her thecommand ofhis houseand placed her at the upper end of his tablewhere Tom(who for his great love of hunting was become a greatfavouriteof the squire) often dined. Young men of opengenerousdispositionsare naturally inclined to gallantrywhichif theyhave goodunderstandingsas was in reality Tom's caseexertsitself inan obliging complacent behaviour to all women in general.Thisgreatly distinguished Tom from the boisterous brutality of merecountrysquires on the one handand from the solemn and somewhatsullendeportment of Master Blifil on the other; and he began nowat twentyto have the name of a pretty fellow among all the womenin theneighbourhood.

  Tombehaved to Sophia with no particularityunless perhaps byshowingher a higher respect than he paid to any other. Thisdistinctionher beautyfortunesenseand amiable carriageseemedto demand;but as to design upon her person he had none; for whichwe shallat present suffer the reader to condemn him of stupidity; butperhaps weshall be able indifferently well to account for ithereafter.

 Sophiawith the highest degree of innocence and modestyhad aremarkablesprightliness in her temper. This was so greatlyincreasedwhenever she was in company with Tomthat had he not beenvery youngand thoughtlesshe must have observed it: or had not Mr.Western'sthoughts been generally either in the fieldthe stableor thedog-kennelit might have perhaps created some jealousy in him:but so farwas the good gentleman from entertaining any suchsuspicionsthat he gave Tom every opportunity with his daughter whichany lovercould have wished; and this Tom innocently improved tobetteradvantageby following only the dictates of his naturalgallantryand good-naturethan he might perhaps have done had hehad thedeepest designs on the young lady.

  Butindeed it can occasion little wonder that this matter escapedtheobservation of otherssince poor Sophia herself never remarkedit; andher heart was irretrievably lost before she suspected it wasin danger.

 Matters were in this situationwhen Tomone afternoonfindingSophiaalonebeganafter a short apologywith a very seriousfacetoacquaint her that he had a favour to ask of her which hehoped hergoodness would comply with.

 Though neither the young man's behaviournor indeed his manner ofopeningthis businesswere such as could give her any just cause ofsuspectinghe intended to make love to her; yet whether Naturewhisperedsomething into her earor from what cause it arose I willnotdetermine; certain it issome idea of that kind must haveintrudeditself; for her colour forsook her cheeksher limbstrembledand her tongue would have falteredhad Tom stopped for ananswer;but he soon relieved her from her perplexityby proceeding toinform herof his request; which was to solicit her interest on behalfof thegamekeeperwhose own ruinand that of a large familymustbehesaidthe consequence of Mr. Western's pursuing his actionagainsthim.

 Sophia presently recovered her confusionandwith a smile fullofsweetnesssaid"Is this the mighty favour you asked with somuchgravity? I will do it with all my heart. I really pity the poorfellowand no longer ago than yesterday sent a small matter to hiswife."This small matter was one of her gownssome linenand tenshillingsin moneyof which Tom had heardand it hadin realityput thissolicitation into his head.

  Ouryouthnowemboldened with his successresolved to push thematterfartherand ventured even to beg her recommendation of himto herfather's service; protesting that he thought him one of thehonestestfellows in the countryand extremely well qualified for theplace of agamekeeperwhich luckily then happened to be vacant.

 Sophia answered"WellI will undertake this too; but I cannotpromiseyou as much success as in the former partwhich I assureyou I willnot quit my father without obtaining. HoweverI will dowhat I canfor the poor fellow; for I sincerely look upon him andhis familyas objects of great compassion. And nowMr. JonesImust askyou a favour."

  "Afavourmadam!" cries Tom: "if you knew the pleasure youhavegiven mein the hopes of receiving a command from youyou would thinkbymentioning it you did confer the greatest favour on me; for by thisdear handI would sacrifice my life to oblige you."

  Hethen snatched her handand eagerly kissed itwhich was thefirst timehis lips had ever touched her. The bloodwhich beforehadforsaken her cheeksnow made her sufficient amendsby rushingall overher face and neck with such violencethat they became all ofa scarletcolour. She now first felt a sensation to which she had beenbefore astrangerand whichwhen she had leisure to reflect on itbegan toacquaint her with some secretswhich the readerif hedoth notalready guess themwill know in due time.

 Sophiaas soon as she could speak (which was not instantly)informedhim that the favour she had to desire of him wasnot to leadher fatherthrough so many dangers in hunting; for thatfrom what shehad heardshe was terribly frightened every time they went outtogetherand expected some day or other to see her father broughthome withbroken limbs. She therefore begged himfor her saketobe morecautious; and as he well knew Mr. Western would follow himnot toride so madlynor to take dangerous leaps for the future.

  Tompromised faithfully to obey her commands; and after thanking herfor herkind compliance with his requesttook his leaveand departedhighlycharmed with his success.

 Poor Sophia was charmed toobut in a very different way. Hersensationshoweverthe reader's heart (if he or she have any) willbetterrepresent than I canif I had as many mouths as ever poetwishedforto eatI supposethose many dainties with which he wassoplentifully provided.

  Itwas Mr. Western's custom every afternoonas soon as he wasdrunktohear his daughter play on the harpsichord; for he was agreatlover of musicand perhapshad he lived in townmight havepassed fora connoisseur; for he always excepted against the finestcompositionsof Mr. Handel. He never relished any music but what waslight andairy; and indeed his most favourite tunes were Old Sir Simonthe KingSt. George he was for EnglandBobbing Joanand someothers.

  Hisdaughterthough she was a perfect mistress of musicandwouldnever willingly have played any but Handel'swas so devotedto herfather's pleasurethat she learnt all those tunes to obligehim.Howevershe would now and then endeavour to lead him into herown taste;and when he required the repetition of his balladswouldanswerwith a "Naydear sir"; and would often beg him to sufferherto playsomething else.

 This eveninghoweverwhen the gentleman was retired from hisbottleshe played all his favourites three times over without anysolicitation.This so pleased the good squirethat he started fromhis couchgave his daughter a kissand swore her hand was greatlyimproved.She took this opportunity to execute her promise to Tom;in whichshe succeeded so wellthat the squire declaredif she wouldgive himt'other bout of Old Sir Simonhe would give the gamekeeperhisdeputation the next morning. Sir Simon was played again and againtill thecharms of the music soothed Mr. Western to sleep. In themorningSophia did not fail to remind him of his engagement; and hisattorneywas immediately sent forordered to stop any furtherproceedingsin the actionand to make out the deputation.

 Tom's success in this affair soon began to ring over the countryandvarious were the censures passed upon it; some greatlyapplaudingit as an act of good nature; others sneeringand saying"Nowonder that one idle fellow should love another." Young Blifilwasgreatlyenraged at it. He had long hated Black George in the sameproportionas Jones delighted in him; not from any offence which hehad everreceivedbut from his great love to religion and virtue;-for BlackGeorge had the reputation of a loose kind of a fellow.Blifiltherefore represented this as flying in Mr. Allworthy's face;anddeclaredwith great concernthat it was impossible to find anyothermotive for doing good to such a wretch.

 Thwackum and Square likewise sung to the same tune. They were now(especiallythe latter) become greatly jealous of young Jones with thewidow; forhe now approached the age of twentywas really a fineyoungfellowand that ladyby her encouragements to himseemeddaily moreand more to think him so.

 Allworthy was nothowevermoved with their malice. He declaredhimselfvery well satisfied with what Jones had done. He said theperseveranceand integrity of his friendship was highly commendableand hewished he could see more frequent instances of that virtue.

  ButFortunewho seldom greatly relishes such sparks as my friendTomperhaps because they do not pay more ardent addresses to hergave now avery different turn to all his actionsand showed themto Mr.Allworthy in a light far less agreeable than that gentleman'sgoodnesshad hitherto seen them in.

Chapter6
An apologyfor the insensibility of Mr. Jones to all the charms ofthe lovelySophia; in which possibly we mayin a considerable degreelower hischaracter in the estimation of those men of wit andgallantrywho approve the heroes in most of our modern comedies

 There are two sorts of peoplewhoI am afraidhave alreadyconceivedsome contempt for my heroeon account of his behaviour toSophia.The former of these will blame his prudence in neglecting anopportunityto possess himself of Mr. Western's fortune; and thelatterwill no less despise him his backwardness to so fine a girlwho seemedready to fly into his armsif he would open them toreceiveher.

 Nowthough I shall not perhaps be able absolutely to acquit himof eitherof these charges (for want of prudence admits of noexcuse;and what I shall produce against the latter charge willIapprehendbe scarce satisfactory); yetas evidence may sometimesbe offeredin mitigationI shall set forth the plain matter offactandleave the whole to the reader's determination.

  Mr.Jones had somewhat about himwhichthough I think writersare notthoroughly agreed in its namedoth certainly inhabit somehumanbreasts; whose use is not so properly to distinguish rightfromwrongas to prompt and incite them to the formerand torestrainand withhold them from the latter.

 This somewhat may be indeed resembled to the famous trunk-maker intheplayhouse; forwhenever the person who is possessed of it dothwhat isrightno ravished or friendly spectator is so eager or soloud inhis applause: on the contrarywhen he doth wrongno criticis so aptto hiss and explode him.

  Togive a higher idea of the principle I meanas well as one morefamiliarto the present age; it may be considered as sitting on itsthrone inthe mindlike the Lord High Chancellor of this kingdom inhis court;where it presidesgovernsdirectsjudgesacquitsandcondemnsaccording to merit and justicewith a knowledge whichnothingescapesa penetration which nothing can deceiveand anintegritywhich nothing can corrupt.

 This active principle may perhaps be said to constitute the mostessentialbarrier between us and our neighbours the brutes; for ifthere besome in the human shape who are not under any suchdominionI choose rather to consider them as deserters from us to ourneighbours;among whom they will have the fate of desertersand notbe placedin the first rank.

  Ourheroewhether he derived it from Thwackum or Square I willnotdeterminewas very strongly under the guidance of this principle;for thoughhe did not always act rightlyyet he never did otherwisewithoutfeeling and suffering for it. It was this which taught himthat torepay the civilities and little friendships of hospitalityby robbingthe house where you have received themis to be the basestandmeanest of thieves. He did not think the baseness of thisoffencelessened by the height of the injury committed; on thecontraryif to steal another's plate deserved death and infamyitseemed tohim difficult to assign a punishment adequate to the robbinga man ofhis whole fortuneand of his child into the bargain.

 This principlethereforeprevented him from any thought ofmaking hisfortune by such means (for thisas I have saidis anactiveprincipleand doth not content itself with knowledge or beliefonly). Hadhe been greatly enamoured of Sophiahe possibly might havethoughtotherwise; but give me leave to saythere is great differencebetweenrunning away with man's daughter from the motive of loveand doingthe same thing from the motive of theft.

 Nowthough this young gentleman was not insensible of the charms ofSophia;though he greatly liked her beautyand esteemed all her otherqualificationsshe had madehoweverno deep impression on hisheart; forwhichas it renders him liable to the charge of stupidityor atleast of want of tastewe shall now proceed to account.

  Thetruth then ishis heart was in the possession of another woman.Here Iquestion not but the reader will be surprized at our longtaciturnityas to this matter; and quite at a loss to divine whothis womanwassince we have hitherto not dropt a hint of any onelikely tobe a rival to Sophia; for as to Mrs. Blifilthough wehave beenobliged to mention some suspicions of her affection for Tomwe havenot hitherto given the least latitude for imagining that hehad anyfor her; andindeedI am sorry to say itbut the youth ofboth sexesare too apt to be deficient in their gratitude for thatregardwith which persons more advanced in years are sometimes so kindto honourthem.

 That the reader may be no longer in suspensehe will be pleasedtorememberthat we have often mentioned the family of George Seagrim(commonlycalled Black Georgethe gamekeeper)which consisted atpresent ofa wife and five children.

  Thesecond of these children was a daughterwhose name was Mollyand whowas esteemed one of the handsomest girls in the whole country.

 Congreve well says there is in true beauty something which vulgarsoulscannot admire; so can no dirt or rags hide this something fromthosesouls which are not of the vulgar stamp.

  Thebeauty of this girl madehoweverno impression on Tomtillshe grewtowards the age of sixteenwhen Tomwho was near threeyearsolderbegan first to cast the eyes of affection upon her. Andthisaffection he had fixed on the girl long before he could bringhimself toattempt the possession of her person: for though hisconstitutionurged him greatly to this his principles no less forciblyrestrainedhim. To debauch a young womanhowever low her conditionwasappeared to him a very heinous crime; and the good-will he borethefatherwith the compassion he had for his familyvery stronglycorroboratedall such sober reflections; so that he once resolved toget thebetter of his inclinationsand he actually abstained threewholemonths without ever going to Seagrim's houseor seeing hisdaughter.

 Nowthough Molly wasas we have saidgenerally thought a veryfine girland in reality she was soyet her beauty was not of themostamiable kind. It hadindeedvery little of feminine in itand wouldhave become a man at least as well as a woman; forto saythe truthyouth and florid health had a very considerable share inthecomposition.

  Norwas her mind more effeminate than her person. As this was tallandrobustso was that bold and forward. So little had she ofmodestythat Jones had more regard for her virtue than she herself.And asmost probably she liked Tom as well as he liked herso whensheperceived his backwardness she herself grew proportionablyforward;and when she saw he had entirely deserted the houseshefoundmeans of throwing herself in his wayand behaved in such amannerthat the youth must have had very much or very little of theheroe ifher endeavours had proved unsuccessful. In a wordshe soontriumphedover all the virtuous resolutions of Jones; for though shebehaved atlast with all decent reluctanceyet I rather chuse toattributethe triumph to hersincein factit was her designwhichsucceeded.

  Inthe conduct of this matterI sayMolly so well played her partthat Jonesattributed the conquest entirely to himselfand consideredthe youngwoman as one who had yielded to the violent attacks of hispassion.He likewise imputed her yielding to the ungovernable force ofher lovetowards him; and this the reader will allow to have been averynatural and probable suppositionas we have more than oncementionedthe uncommon comeliness of his person: andindeedhe wasone of thehandsomest young fellows in the world.

  Asthere are some minds whose affectionslike Master Blifil'sare solelyplaced on one single personwhose interest andindulgencealone they consider on every occasion; regarding the goodand ill ofall others as merely indifferentany farther than astheycontribute to the pleasure or advantage of that person: sothere is adifferent temper of mind which borrows a degree of virtueeven fromself-love. Such can never receive any kind of satisfactionfromanotherwithout loving the creature to whom that satisfaction isowingandwithout making its well-being in some sort necessary totheir ownease.

  Ofthis latter species was our heroe. He considered this poor girlas onewhose happiness or misery he had caused to be dependent onhimself.Her beauty was still the object of desirethough greaterbeautyora fresher objectmight have been more so; but the littleabatementwhich fruition had occasioned to this was highlyoverbalancedby the considerations of the affection which shevisiblybore himand of the situation into which he had broughther. Theformer of these created gratitudethe latter compassion; andbothtogether with his desire for her personraised in him a passionwhichmightwithout any great violence to the wordbe called love;thoughperhapsit was at first not very judiciously placed.

 Thisthenwas the true reason of that insensibility which he hadshown tothe charms of Sophiaand that behaviour in her which mighthave beenreasonably enough interpreted as an encouragement to hisaddresses;for as he could not think of abandoning his Mollypoor anddestituteas she wasso no more could he entertain a notion ofbetrayingsuch a creature as Sophia. And surelyhad he given theleastencouragement to any passion for that young ladyhe must havebeenabsolutely guilty of one or other of those crimes; either ofwhichwouldin my opinionhave very justly subjected him to thatfatewhichat his first introduction into this historyImentionedto have been generally predicted as his certain destiny.

Chapter7
Being theshortest chapter in this book

  Hermother first perceived the alteration in the shape of Molly; andin orderto hide it from her neighboursshe foolishly clothed herin thatsack which Sophia had sent her; thoughindeedthat younglady hadlittle apprehension that the poor woman would have beenweakenough to let any of her daughters wear it in that form.

 Molly was charmed with the first opportunity she ever had of showingher beautyto advantage; for though she could very well bear tocontemplateherself in the glasseven when dressed in rags; andthough shehad in that dress conquered the heart of Jonesand perhapsof someothers; yet she thought the addition of finery would muchimproveher charmsand extend her conquests.

 Mollythereforehaving dressed herself out in this sackwith anew lacedcapand some other ornaments which Tom had given herrepairs tochurch with her fan in her hand the very next Sunday. Thegreat aredeceived if they imagine they have appropriated ambition andvanity tothemselves. These noble qualities flourish as notably in acountrychurch and churchyard as in the drawing-roomor in thecloset.Schemes have indeed been laid in the vestry which would hardlydisgracethe conclave. Here is a ministryand here is anopposition.Here are plots and circumventionsparties and factionsequal tothose which are to be found in courts.

  Norare the women here less practised in the highest feminine artsthan theirfair superiors in quality and fortune. Here are prudesandcoquettes. Here are dressing and oglingfalsehoodenvymalicescandal; in shorteverything which is common to the mostsplendidassemblyor politest circle. Let those of high lifethereforeno longer despise the ignorance of their inferiors; nor thevulgar anylonger rail at the vices of their betters.

 Molly had seated herself some time before she was known by herneighbours.And then a whisper ran through the whole congregation"Whois she?" but when she was discoveredsuch sneeringgigglingtitteringand laughing ensued among the womenthat Mr. Allworthy wasobliged toexert his authority to preserve any decency among them.

Chapter8
A battlesung by the muse in the Homerican stileand which none buttheclassical reader can taste

  Mr.Western had an estate in this parish; and as his house stoodat littlegreater distance from this church than from his ownhe veryoften cameto Divine Service here; and both he and the charming Sophiahappenedto be present at this time.

 Sophia was much pleased with the beauty of the girlwhom she pitiedfor hersimplicity in having dressed herself in that manneras shesaw theenvy which it had occasioned among her equals. She no soonercame homethan she sent for the gamekeeperand ordered him to bringhisdaughter to her; saying she would provide for her in the familyand mightpossibly place the girl about her own personwhen her ownmaidwhowas now going awayhad left her.

 Poor Seagrim was thunderstruck at this; for he was no stranger tothe faultin the shape of his daughter. He answeredin a stammeringvoice"That he was afraid Molly would be too awkward to wait on herladyshipas she had never been at service."

"No matter for that"saysSophia; "she will soon improve. I am pleased with the girlandamresolved to try her."

 Black George now repaired to his wifeon whose prudent counsel hedependedto extricate him out of this dilemma; but when he camethither hefound his house in some confusion. So great envy had thissackoccasionedthat when Mr. Allworthy and the other gentry weregone fromchurchthe ragewhich had hitherto been confinedburstinto anuproar; andhaving vented itself at first in opprobriouswordslaughshissesand gesturesbetook itself at last tocertainmissile weapons; whichthough from their plastic naturetheythreatened neither the loss of life or of limbwere howeversufficientlydreadful to a well-dressed lady. Molly had too muchspirit tobear this treatment tamely. Having therefore- but holdaswe arediffident of our own abilitieslet us here invite a superiorpower toour assistance.

  YeMusesthenwhoever ye arewho love to sing battlesandprincipallythou who whilom didst recount the slaughter in thosefieldswhere Hudibras and Trulla foughtif thou wert not starved withthy friendButlerassist me on this great occasion. All things arenot in thepower of all.

  Asa vast herd of cows in a rich farmer's yardifwhile they aremilkedthey hear their calves at a distancelamenting the robberywhich isthen committingroar and bellow; so roared forth theSomersetshiremob an hallaloomade up of almost as many squallsscreamsand other different sounds as there were personsor indeedpassionsamong them: some were inspired by rageothers alarmed byfearandothers had nothing in their heads but the love of fun; butchieflyEnvythe sister of Satanand his constant companionrushedamong the crowdand blew up the fury of the women; who nosoonercame up to Molly than they pelted her with dirt and rubbish.

 Mollyhaving endeavoured in vain to make a handsome retreatfacedabout; and laying hold of ragged Besswho advanced in the frontof theenemyshe at one blow felled her to the ground. The whole armyof theenemy (though near a hundred in number)seeing the fate oftheirgeneralgave back many pacesand retired behind a new-duggrave; forthe churchyard was the field of battlewhere there wasto be afuneral that very evening. Molly pursued her victoryandcatchingup a skull which lay on the side of the gravedischargedit withsuch furythat having hit a taylor on the headthe twoskullssent equally forth a hollow sound at their meetingand thetaylortook presently measure of his length on the groundwhere theskulls layside by sideand it was doubtful which was the morevaluableof the two. Molly then taking a thigh-bone in her handfell inamong the flying ranksand dealing her blows with greatliberalityon either sideoverthrew the carcass of many a mightyheroe andheroine.

 RecountO Musethe names of those who fell on this fatal day.FirstJemmy Tweedle felt on his hinder head the direful bone. Him thepleasantbanks of sweetly-winding Stour had nourishedwhere hefirstlearnt the vocal artwith whichwandering up and down at wakesand fairshe cheered the rural nymphs and swainswhen upon the greentheyinterweaved the sprightly dance; while he himself stoodfiddlingand jumping to his own music. How little now avails hisfiddle! Hethumps the verdant floor with his carcass. NextoldEchepolethe sowgelderreceived a blow in his forehead from ourAmazonianheroineand immediately fell to the ground. He was aswingingfat fellowand fell with almost as much noise as a house.Histobacco-box dropped at the same time from his pocketwhichMolly tookup as lawful spoils. Then Kate of the Mill tumbledunfortunatelyover a tombstonewhich catching hold of herungarteredstocking inverted the order of natureand gave her heelsthesuperiority to her head. Betty Pippinwith young Roger her loverfell bothto the ground; whereoh perverse fate! she salutes theearthandhe the sky. Tom Frecklethe smith's sonwas the nextvictim toher rage. He was an ingenious workmanand made excellentpattens;naythe very patten with which he was knocked down was hisownworkmanship. Had he been at that time singing psalms in thechurchhewould have avoided a broken head. Miss Crowthe daughterof afarmer; John Giddishhimself a farmer; Nan SlouchEstherCodlingWill SprayTom Bennet; the three Misses Potterwhose fatherkeeps thesign of the Red Lion; Betty ChambermaidJack Ostlerandmanyothers of inferior notelay rolling among the graves.

  Notthat the strenuous arm of Molly reached all these; for many ofthem intheir flight overthrew each other.

  Butnow Fortunefearing she had acted out of characterand hadinclinedtoo long to the same sideespecially as it was the rightsidehastily turned about: for now Goody Brown- whom Zekiel Browncaressedin his arms; nor he alonebut half the parish besides; sofamous wasshe in the fields of Venusnor indeed less in those ofMars. Thetrophies of both these her husband always bore about onhis headand face; for if ever human head did by its horns display theamorousglories of a wifeZekiel's did; nor did his well-scratchedface lessdenote her talents (or rather talons) of a different kind.

  Nolonger bore this Amazon the shameful flight of her party. Shestoptshortandcalling aloud to all who fledspoke as follows: "YeSomersetshiremenor rather ye Somersetshire womenare ye notashamedthus to fly from a single woman? But if no other will opposeherImyself and Joan Top here will have the honour of thevictory."Having thus saidshe flew at Molly Seagrimand easilywrenchedthe thigh-bone from her handat the same time clawing offher capfrom her head. Then laying hold of the hair of Molly withher lefthandshe attacked her so furiously in the face with therightthat the blood soon began to trickle from her nose. Molly wasnot idlethis while. She soon removed the clout from the head of GoodyBrownandthen fastening on her hair with one handwith the othershe causedanother bloody stream to issue forth from the nostrils ofthe enemy.

 When each of the combatants had borne off sufficient spoils ofhair fromthe head of her antagonistthe next rage was against thegarments.In this attack they exerted so much violencethat in a veryfewminutes they were both naked to the middle.

  Itis lucky for the women that the seat of fistycuff war is notthe samewith them as among men; but though they may seem a littleto deviatefrom their sexwhen they go forth to battleyet I haveobservedthey never so far forgetas to assail the bosoms of eachother;where a few blows would be fatal to most of them. ThisI knowsomederive from their being of a more bloody inclination than themales. Onwhich account they apply to the noseas to the partwhenceblood may most easily be drawn; but this seems a far-fetched aswell asill-natured supposition.

 Goody Brown had great advantage of Molly in this particular; for theformer hadindeed no breastsher bosom (if it may be so called)aswell incolour as in many other propertiesexactly resembling anantientpiece of parchmentupon which any one might have drummed aconsiderablewhile without doing her any great damage.

 Mollybeside her present unhappy conditionwas differentlyformed inthose partsand mightperhapshave tempted the envy ofBrown togive her a fatal blowhad not the lucky arrival of Tom Jonesat thisinstant put an immediate end to the bloody scene.

 This accident was luckily owing to Mr. Square; for heMasterBlifiland Joneshad mounted their horsesafter churchto take theairandhad ridden about a quarter of a milewhen Squarechanginghis mind(not idlybut for a reason which we shall unfold as soonas we haveleisure)desired the young gentlemen to ride with himanotherway than they had at first purposed. This motion beingcompliedwithbrought them of necessity back again to the churchyard.

 Master Blifilwho rode firstseeing such a mob assembledandtwo womenin the posture in which we left the combatantsstopt hishorse toenquire what was the matter. A country fellowscratching hisheadanswered him: "I don't knowmeasterun't I; an't please yourhonourhere hath been a vightI thinkbetween Goody Brown andMollSeagrim."

 "Whowho?" cries Tom; but without waiting for an answerhavingdiscoveredthe features of his Molly through all the discomposure inwhich theynow werehe hastily alightedturned his horse looseandleapingover the wallran to her. She now first bursting intotearstold him how barbarously she had been treated. Upon whichforgettingthe sex of Goody Brownor perhaps not knowing it in hisrage- forin realityshe had no feminine appearance but apetticoatwhich he might not observe- he gave her a lash or two withhishorsewhip; and then flying at the mobwho were all accused byMollhedealt his blows so profusely on all sidesthat unless Iwouldagain invoke the muse (which the good-natured reader may think alittle toohard upon heras she hath so lately been violentlysweated)it would be impossible for me to recount thehorse-whippingof that day.

 Having scoured the whole coast of the enemyas well as any ofHomer'sheroes ever didor as Don Quixote or any knight-errant in theworldcould have donehe returned to Mollywhom he found in aconditionwhich must give both me and my reader painwas it to bedescribedhere. Tom raved like a madmanbeat his breasttore hishairstamped on the groundand vowed the utmost vengeance on all whohad beenconcerned. He then pulled off his coatand buttoned it roundherputhis hat upon her headwiped the blood from her face aswell as hecould with his handkerchiefand called out to theservant toride as fast as possible for a side-saddleor a pillionthat hemight carry her safe home.

 Master Blifil objected to the sending away the servantas theyhad onlyone with them; but as Square seconded the order of Joneshe wasobliged to comply.

  Theservant returned in a very short time with the pillionandMollyhaving collected her rags as well as she couldwas placedbehindhim. In which manner she was carried homeSquareBlifiland Jonesattending.

 Here Jones having received his coatgiven her a sly kissandwhisperedherthat he would return in the eveningquitted his Mollyand rodeon after his companions.

Chapter9
Containingmatter of no very peaceable colour

 Molly had no sooner apparelled herself in her accustomed ragsthan hersisters began to fall violently upon herparticularly hereldestsisterwho told her she was well enough served. "How had shetheassurance to wear a gown which young Madam Western had given tomother! Ifone of us was to wear itI thinksays she"I myself havethe bestright; but I warrant you think it belongs to your beauty. Isupposeyou think yourself more handsomer than any of us."

"Handherdown thebit of glass from over the cupboard" cries another; "I'dwash theblood from my face before I talked of my beauty."

"You'dbetterhave minded what the parson says" cries the eldest"andnot aharkenedafter men voke."

"Indeedchildand so she had"says themothersobbing: "she hath brought a disgrace upon us all. She's thevurst ofthe vamily that ever was a whore."

 "You need not upbraid me with thatmother" cried Molly;"youyourselfwas brought-to-bed of sister therewithin a week after youwasmarried."

 "Yeshussy" answered the enraged mother"so I wasand what wasthe mightymatter of that? I was made an honest woman then; and if youwas to bemade an honest womanI should not be angry; but you musthave todoing with a gentlemanyou nasty slut; you will have abastardhussyyou will; and that I defy any one to say of me."

  Inthis situation Black George found his familywhen he came homefor thepurpose before mentioned. As his wife and three daughters wereall ofthem talking togetherand most of them cryingit was sometimebefore he could get an opportunity of being heard; but as soon assuchinterval occurredhe acquainted the company with what Sophia hadsaid tohim.

 Goody Seagrim then began to revile her daughter afresh. "Here"saysshe"youhave brought us into a fine quandary indeed. What will madamsay tothat big belly? Oh that ever I should live to see this day!"

 Molly answered with great spirit"And what is this mighty placewhich youhave got for mefather?" (for he had not well understoodthe phraseused by Sophia of being about her person). "I suppose it isto beunder the cook; but I shan't wash dishes for anybody. Mygentlemanwill provide better for me. See what he hath given me thisafternoon.He hath promised I shall never want money; and you shan'twant moneyneithermotherif you will hold your tongueand knowwhen youare well." And so sayingshe pulled out several guineasandgave hermother one of them.

  Thegood woman no sooner felt the gold within her palmthan hertemperbegan (such is the efficacy of that panacea) to be mollified."Whyhusband" says she"would any but such a blockhead as younothaveenquired what place this was before he had accepted it?Perhapsas Molly saysit may be in the kitchen; and truly I don'tcare mydaughter should be a scullion wench; forpoor as I amI am agentlewoman.And thof I was obligedas my fatherwho was aclergymandied worse than nothingand so could not give me ashillingof portionto undervalue myself by marrying a poor man;yet Iwould have you to knowI have a spirit above all them things.Marry comeup! it would better become Madam Western to look at homeandremember who her own grandfather was. Some of my familyfor aughtI knowmight ride in their coacheswhen the grandfathers of somevokewalked a-voot. I warrant she fancies she did a mighty matterwhen shesent us that old gownd; some of my family would not havepicked upsuch rags in the street; but poor people are always trampledupon.- Theparish need not have been in such a fluster with Molly.You mighthave told themchildyour grandmother wore better thingsnew out ofthe shop."

 "Wellbut consider" cried George"what answer shallI make tomadam?"

  "Idon't know what answer" says she; "you are always bringingyourfamily into one quandary or other. Do you remember when youshot thepartridgethe occasion of all our misfortunes? Did not Iadvise younever to go into Squire Western's manor? Did not I tell youmany agood year ago what would come of it? But you would have yourownheadstrong ways; yesyou wouldyou villain."

 Black George wasin the maina peaceable kind of fellowandnothingcholeric nor rash; yet did he bear about him something of whattheantients called the irascibleand which his wifeif she had beenendowedwith much wisdomwould have feared. He had longexperiencedthat when the storm grew very higharguments were butwindwhich served rather to increasethan to abate it. He wasthereforeseldom unprovided with a small switcha remedy of wonderfulforceashe had often essayedand which the word villain served as ahint forhis applying.

  Nosoonerthereforehad this symptom appearedthan he hadimmediaterecourse to the said remedywhich thoughas it is usual inall veryefficacious medicinesit at first seemed to heighten andinflamethe diseasesoon produced a total calmand restored thepatient toperfect ease and tranquillity.

 This ishowevera kind of horse-medicinewhich requires a veryrobustconstitution to digestand is therefore proper only for thevulgarunless in one single instanceviz.where superiority ofbirthbreaks out; in which casewe should not think it veryimproperlyapplied by any husband whateverif the application was notin itselfso basethatlike certain applications of the physicalkind whichneed not be mentionedit so much degrades and contaminatesthe handemployed in itthat no gentleman should endure the thoughtofanything so low and detestable.

  Thewhole family were soon reduced to a state of perfect quiet;for thevirtue of this medicinelike that of electricityis oftencommunicatedthrough one person to many otherswho are not touched bytheinstrument. To say the truthas they both operate by frictionitmay bedoubted whether there is not something analogous betweenthemofwhich Mr. Freke would do well to enquirebefore he publishesthe nextedition of his book.

  Acouncil was now calledin whichafter many debatesMollystillpersisting that she would not go to serviceit was at lengthresolvedthat Goody Seagrim herself should wait on Miss Westernandendeavour to procure the place for her eldest daughterwhodeclaredgreat readiness to accept it: but Fortunewho seems tohave beenan enemy of this little familyafterwards put a stop to herpromotion.

Chapter10
A storytold by Mr. Supplethe curate. The penetration of SquireWestern.His great love for his daughterand the return to it made byHer

  Thenext morning Tom Jones hunted with Mr. Westernand was at hisreturninvited by that gentleman to dinner.

  Thelovely Sophia shone forth that day with more gaiety andsprightlinessthan usual. Her battery was certainly levelled at ourheroe;thoughI believeshe herself scarce yet knew her ownintention;but if she had any design of charming himshe nowsucceeded.

  Mr.Supplethe curate of Mr. Allworthy's parishmade one of thecompany.He was a good-natured worthy man; but chiefly remarkablefor hisgreat taciturnity at tablethough his mouth was never shut atit. Inshorthe had one of the best appetites in the world.Howeverthe cloth was no sooner taken awaythan he always madesufficientamends for his silence: for he was a very hearty fellow;and hisconversation was often entertainingnever offensive.

  Athis first arrivalwhich was immediately before the entrance oftheroast-beefhe had given an intimation that he had brought somenews withhimand was beginning to tellthat he came that momentfrom Mr.Allworthy'swhen the sight of the roast-beef struck himdumbpermitting him only to say graceand to declare he must pay hisrespect tothe baronetfor so he called the sirloin.

 When dinner was overbeing reminded by Sophia of his newshe beganasfollows: "I believeladyyour ladyship observed a young womanat churchyesterday at even-songwho was drest in one of youroutlandishgarments; I think I have seen your ladyship in such aone.Howeverin the countrysuch dresses are

    Rara avis in terrisnigroque simillima cygno.

That ismadamas much as to say'A rare bird upon the earthandvery likea black swan.' The verse is in Juvenal. But to return towhat I wasrelating. I was saying such garments are rare sights in thecountry;and perchancetooit was thought the more rarerespectbeing hadto the person who wore itwhothey tell meis thedaughterof Black Georgeyour worship's gamekeeperwhose sufferingsI shouldhave opinedmight have taught him more witthan to dressforth hiswenches in such gaudy apparel. She created so much confusionin thecongregationthat if Squire Allworthy had not silenced itit wouldhave interrupted the service: for I was once about to stop inthe middleof the first lesson. Howbeitneverthelessafter prayerwas overand I was departed homethis occasioned a battle in thechurchyardwhereamongst other mischiefthe head of a travellingfidler wasvery much broken. This morning the fidler came to SquireAllworthyfor a warrantand the wench was brought before him. Thesquire wasinclined to have compounded matters; whenlo! on asudden thewench appeared (I ask your ladyship's pardon) to beasit wereat the eve of bringing forth a bastard. The squire demandedof her whowas the father? But she pertinaciously refused to makeanyresponse. So that he was about to make her mittimus to Bridewellwhen Ideparted."

 "And is a wench having a bastard all your newsdoctor?"criesWestern;"I thought it might have been some public mattersomethingabout thenation."

  "Iam afraid it is too commonindeed" answered the parson; "butI thoughtthe whole story altogether deserved commemorating. As tonationalmattersyour worship knows them best. My concerns extendno fartherthan my own parish."

 "Whyay" says the squire"I believe I do know alittle of thatmatterasyou say. But comeTommydrink about; the bottle standswith you."

  Tombegged to be excusedfor that he had particular business; andgetting upfrom tableescaped the clutches of the squirewho wasrising tostop himand went off with very little ceremony.

  Thesquire gave him a good curse at his departure; and thenturning tothe parsonhe cried out"I smoke it: I smoke it. Tom iscertainlythe father of this bastard. Zooksparsonyou rememberhow herecommended the veather o' her to me. D--n unwhat a sly b--ch'tis. Ayayas sure as two-penceTom is the veather of thebastard."

  "Ishould be very sorry for that" says the parson.

 "Why sorry" cries the squire: "Where is the mightymatter o't?WhatIsuppose dost pretend that thee hast never got a bastard?Pox! moregood luck's thine! for I warrant hast a done a thereforemany's thegood time and often."

 "Your worship is pleased to be jocular" answered theparson; "but Ido notonly animadvert on the sinfulness of the action- though thatsurely isto be greatly deprecated- but I fear his unrighteousnessmay injurehim with Mr. Allworthy. And truly I must saythough hehath thecharacter of being a little wildI never saw any harm in theyoung man;nor can I say I have heard anysave what your worshipnowmentions. I wishindeedhe was a little more regular in hisresponsesat church; but altogether he seems

    Ingenui vultus puer ingenuique pudoris.

That is aclassical lineyoung lady; andbeing rendered intoEnglishis'a lad of an ingenuous countenanceand of an ingenuousmodesty';for this was a virtue in great repute both among theLatins andGreeks. I must saythe young gentleman (for so I think Imay callhimnotwithstanding his birth) appears to me a verymodestcivil ladand I should be sorry that he should do himself anyinjury inSquire Allworthy's opinion."

 "Poogh!" says the squire: "Injurywith Allworthy!WhyAllworthyloves awench himself. Doth not all the country know whose son Tom is?You musttalk to another person in that manner. I remember Allworthyatcollege."

  "Ithought" said the parson"he had never been at theuniversity."

 "Yesyeshe was" says the squire: "and many a wenchhave we twohadtogether. As arrant a whore-master as any within five mileso'un. Nono. It will do'n no harm with heassure yourself; norwithanybody else. Ask Sophy there- You have not the worse opinion ofa youngfellow for getting a bastardhave yougirl? Nonothewomen willlike un the better for't."

 This was a cruel question to poor Sophia. She had observed Tom'scolourchange at the parson's story; and thatwith his hasty andabruptdeparturegave her sufficient reason to think her father'ssuspicionnot groundless. Her heart now at once discovered the greatsecret toher which it had been so long disclosing by little andlittle;and she found herself highly interested in this matter. Insuch asituationher father's malapert question rushing suddenly uponherproduced some symptoms which might have alarmed a suspiciousheart;butto do the squire justicethat was not his fault. When sherosetherefore from her chairand told him a hint from him was alwayssufficientto make her withdrawhe suffered her to leave the roomand thenwith great gravity of countenance remarked"That it wasbetter tosee a daughter over-modest than over-forward";- a sentimentwhich washighly applauded by the parson.

 There now ensued between the squire and the parson a mostexcellentpolitical discourseframed out of newspapers andpoliticalpamphlets; in which they made a libation of four bottlesof wine tothe good of their country: and thenthe squire beingfastasleepthe parson lighted his pipemounted his horseandrode home.

 When the squire had finished his half-hour's naphe summoned hisdaughterto her harpsichord; but she begged to be excused thateveningon account of a violent head-ache. This remission waspresentlygranted; for indeed she seldom had occasion to ask himtwiceashe loved her with such ardent affectionthatby gratifyingherhecommonly conveyed the highest gratification to himself. Shewasreallywhat he frequently called herhis little darlingand shewelldeserved to be so; for she returned all his affection in the mostamplemanner. She had preserved the most inviolable duty to him in allthings;and this her love made not only easybut so delightfulthat whenone of her companions laughed at her for placing so muchmerit insuch scrupulous obedienceas that young lady called itSophiaanswered"You mistake memadamif you think I value myselfupon thisaccount; for besides that I am barely discharging my dutyIamlikewise pleasing myself. I can truly say I have no delight equalto that ofcontributing to my father's happiness; and if I valuemyselfmydearit is on having this powerand not on executing it."

 This was a satisfactionhoweverwhich poor Sophia was incapable oftastingthis evening. She therefore not only desired to be excusedfrom herattendance at the harpsichordbut likewise begged that hewouldsuffer her to absent herself from supper. To this requestlikewisethe squire agreedthough not without some reluctance; for hescarceever permitted her to be out of his sightunless when he wasengagedwith his horsesdogsor bottle. Nevertheless he yielded tothe desireof his daughterthough the poor man was at the same timeobliged toavoid his own company (if I may so express myself)bysendingfor a neighbouring farmer to sit with him.

Chapter11
The narrowescape of Molly Seagrimwith some observations for whichwe havebeen forced to dive pretty deep into nature

  TomJones had ridden one of Mr. Western's horses that morning in thechase; sothat having no horse of his own in the squire's stablehewasobliged to go home on foot: this he did so expeditiously that heranupwards of three miles within the half-hour.

 Just as he arrived at Mr. Allworthy's outward gatehe met theconstableand company with Molly in their possessionwhom they wereconductingto that house where the inferior sort of people may learnone goodlessonviz.respect and deference to their superiors; sinceit mustshow them the wide distinction Fortune intends between thosepersonswho are to be corrected for their faultsand those who arenot; whichlesson if they do not learnI am afraid they very rarelylearn anyother good lessonor improve their moralsat the HouseofCorrection.

  Alawyer may perhaps think Mr. Allworthy exceeded his authority alittle inthis instance. Andto say the truthI questionas herewas noregular information before himwhether his conduct wasstrictlyregular. Howeveras his intention was truly uprightheought tobe excused in foro conscientiae; since so many arbitrary actsare dailycommitted by magistrates who have not this excuse to pleadforthemselves.

  Tomwas no sooner informed by the constable whither they wereproceeding(indeed he pretty well guessed it of himself)than hecaughtMolly in his armsand embracing her tenderly before themallsworehe would murder the first man who offered to lay hold ofher. Hebid her dry her eyes and be comforted; forwherever she wenthe wouldaccompany her. Then turning to the constablewho stoodtremblingwith his hat offhe desired himin a very mild voicetoreturnwith him for a moment only to his father (for so he nowcalledAllworthy); for he dursthe saidbe assuredthatwhen hehadalledged what he had to say in her favourthe girl would bedischarged.

  TheconstablewhoI make no doubtwould have surrendered hisprisonerhad Tom demanded hervery readily consented to this request.So backthey all went into Mr. Allworthy's hall; where Tom desiredthem tostay till his returnand then went himself in pursuit ofthe goodman. As soon as he was foundTom threw himself at hisfeetandhaving begged a patient hearingconfessed himself to be thefather ofthe child of which Molly was then big. He entreated him tohavecompassion on the poor girland to considerif there was anyguilt inthe caseit lay principally at his door.

  "Ifthere is any guilt in the case!" answered Allworthy warmly: "Areyou thenso profligate and abandoned a libertine to doubt whetherthebreaking the laws of God and manthe corrupting and ruining apoor girlbe guilt? I ownindeedit doth lie principally upon you;and soheavy it isthat you ought to expect it should crush you."

 "Whatever may be my fate" says Tom"let me succeedin myintercessionsfor the poor girl. I confess I have corrupted her! butwhethershe shall be ruineddepends on you. For Heaven's sakesirrevokeyour warrantand do not send her to a place which mustunavoidablyprove her destruction."

 Allworthy bid him immediately call a servant. Tom answered there wasnooccasion; for he had luckily met them at the gateand relying uponhisgoodnesshad brought them all back into his hallwhere theynow waitedhis final resolutionwhich upon his knees he besoughthim mightbe in favour of the girl; that she might be permitted togo home toher parentsand not be exposed to a greater degree ofshame andscorn than must necessarily fall upon her. "I know" saidhe"thatis too much. I know I am the wicked occasion of it. I willendeavourto make amendsif possible; and if you shall have hereafterthegoodness to forgive meI hope I shall deserve it."

 Allworthy hesitated some timeand at last said"WellI willdischargemy mittimus.- You may send the constable to me." He wasinstantlycalleddischargedand so was the girl.

  Itwill be believed that Mr. Allworthy failed not to read Tom a veryseverelecture on this occasion; but it is unnecessary to insert ithereaswe have faithfully transcribed what he said to Jenny Jones inthe firstbookmost of which may be applied to the menequallywith thewomen. So sensible an effect had these reproofs on theyoung manwho was no hardened sinner that he retired to his own roomwhere hepassed the evening alonein much melancholy contemplation.

 Allworthy was sufficiently offended by this transgression ofJones; fornotwithstanding the assertions of Mr. Westernit iscertainthis worthy man had never indulged himself in any loosepleasureswith womenand greatly condemned the vice of incontinencein others.Indeedthere is much reason to imagine that there wasnot theleast truth in what Mr. Western affirmedespecially as helaid thescene of those impurities at the universitywhere Mr.Allworthyhad never been. In factthe good squire was a little tooapt toindulge that kind of pleasantry which is generally calledrhodomontade:but which maywith as much proprietybe expressed by amuchshorter word; and perhaps we too often supply the use of thislittlemonosyllable by others; since very much of what frequentlypasses inthe world for wit and humourshouldin the strictestpurity oflanguagereceive that short appellationwhichinconformityto the well-bred laws of customI here suppress.

  Butwhatever detestation Mr. Allworthy had to this or to any othervicehewas not so blinded by it but that he could discern any virtuein theguilty personas clearly indeed as if there had been nomixture ofvice in the same character. While he was angry thereforewith theincontinence of Joneshe was no less pleased with the honourandhonesty of his self-accusation. He began now to form in his mindthe sameopinion of this young fellowwhichwe hopeour readermay haveconceived. And in balancing his faults with hisperfectionsthe latter seemed rather to preponderate.

  Itwas to no purposethereforethat Thwackumwho wasimmediatelycharged by Mr. Blifil with the storyunbended all hisrancouragainst poor Tom. Allworthy gave a patient hearing to theirinvectivesand then answered coldly: "That young men of Tom'scomplexionwere too generally addicted to this vice; but he believedthat youthwas sincerely affected with what he had said to him ontheoccasionand he hoped he would not transgress again." So thatasthe daysof whipping were at an endthe tutor had no other vent buthis ownmouth for his gallthe usual poor resource of impotentrevenge.

  ButSquarewho was a less violentwas a much more artful man;and as hehated Jones more perhaps than Thwackum himself didso hecontrivedto do him more mischief in the mind of Mr. Allworthy.

  Thereader must remember the several little incidents of thepartridgethe horseand the Biblewhich were recounted in thesecondbook. By all which Jones had rather improved than injured theaffectionwhich Mr. Allworthy was inclined to entertain for him. ThesameIbelievemust have happened to him with every other person whohath anyidea of friendshipgenerosityand greatness of spiritthatis to saywho hath any traces of goodness in his mind.

 Square himself was not unacquainted with the true impression whichthoseseveral instances of goodness had made on the excellent heart ofAllworthy;for the philosopher very well knew what virtue wasthough hewas not always perhaps steady in its pursuit; but as forThwackumfrom what reason I will not determineno such thoughts everenteredinto his head: he saw Jones in a bad lightand he imaginedAllworthysaw him in the samebut that he was resolvedfrom prideandstubbornness of spiritnot to give up the boy whom he had oncecherished;since by so doinghe must tacitly acknowledge that hisformeropinion of him had been wrong.

  Squaretherefore embraced this opportunity of injuring Jones inthetenderest partby giving a very bad turn to all thesebefore-mentionedoccurrences. "I am sorrysir" said he"to own Ihave beendeceived as well as yourself. I could notI confesshelpbeingpleased with what I ascribed to the motive of friendshipthoughit wascarried to an excessand all excess is faulty and vicious: butin this Imade allowance for youth. Little did I suspect that thesacrificeof truthwhich we both imagined to have been made tofriendshipwas in reality a prostitution of it to a depraved anddebauchedappetite. You now plainly see whence all the seeminggenerosityof this young man to the family of the gamekeeperproceeded.He supported the father in order to corrupt the daughterandpreserved the family from starvingto bring one of them toshame andruin. This is friendship! this is generosity! As Sir RichardSteelesays'Gluttons who give high prices for delicaciesare veryworthy tobe called generous.' In short I am resolvedfrom thisinstancenever to give way to the weakness of human nature nor tothinkanything virtue which doth not exactly quadrate with theunerringrule of right."

  Thegoodness of Allworthy had prevented those considerations fromoccurringto himself; yet were they too plausible to be absolutely andhastilyrejectedwhen laid before his eyes by another. Indeed whatSquare hadsaid sunk very deeply into his mindand the uneasinesswhich itthere created was very visible to the other; though thegood manwould not acknowledge thisbut made a very slight answerandforcibly drove off the discourse to some other subject. It waswellperhaps for poor Tomthat no such suggestions had been madebefore hewas pardoned; for they certainly stamped in the mind ofAllworthythe first bad impression concerning Jones.

Chapter12
Containingmuch clearer matters; but which flowed from the samefountainwith those in the preceding chapter

  Thereader will be pleasedI believeto return with me toSophia.She passed the nightafter we saw her lastin no veryagreeablemanner. Sleep befriended her but littleand dreams less. Inthemorningwhen Mrs. Honourher maidattended her at the usualhourshewas found already up and drest.

 Persons who live two or three miles' distance in the country areconsideredas next-door neighboursand transactions at the onehouse flywith incredible celerity to the other. Mrs. Honourthereforehad heard the whole story of Molly's shame; which shebeing of avery communicative temperhad no sooner entered theapartmentof her mistressthan she began to relate in the followingmanner:-

 "Lama'amwhat doth your la'ship think? the girl that yourla'shipsaw atchurch on Sundaywhom you thought so handsome; though youwould nothave thought her so handsome neitherif you had seen hernearerbut to be sure she hath been carried before the justice forbeing bigwith child. She seemed to me to look like a confidentslut: andto be sure she hath laid the child to young Mr. Jones. Andall theparish says Mr. Allworthy is so angry with young Mr. Jonesthat hewon't see him. To be sureone can't help pitying the pooryoung manand yet he doth not deserve much pity neitherfordemeaninghimself with such kind of trumpery. Yet he is so pretty agentlemanI should be sorry to have him turned out of doors. Idares toswear the wench was as willing as he; for she was always aforwardkind of body. And when wenches are so comingyoung men arenot somuch to be blamed neither; for to be sure they do no morethan whatis natural. Indeed it is beneath them to meddle with suchdirtydraggle-tails; and whatever happens to themit is good enoughfor them.And yetto be surethe vile baggages are most in fault.I wisheswith all my heartthey were well to be whipped at thecart'stail; for it is pity they should be the ruin of a prettyyounggentleman; and nobody can deny but that Mr. Jones is one ofthe mosthandsomest young men that ever-"

  Shewas running on thuswhen Sophiawith a more peevish voice thanshe hadever spoken to her in beforecried"Pritheewhy dost thoutrouble mewith all this stuff? What concern have I in what Mr.Jonesdoth? I suppose you are all alike. And you seem to me to beangry itwas not your own case."

  "Ima'am!" answered Mrs. Honour"I am sorry your ladyshipshouldhave suchan opinion of me. I am sure nobody can say any such thing ofme. Allthe young fellows in the world may go to the divil for me.Because Isaid he was a handsome man? Everybody says it as well asI. To besureI never thought as it was any harm to say a young manwashandsome; but to be sure I shall never think him so any morenow; forhandsome is that handsome does. A beggar wench!--"

 "Stop thy torrent of impertinence" cries Sophia"andsee whethermy fatherwants me at breakfast."

 Mrs. Honour then flung out of the roommuttering much to herselfof which"Marry come upI assure you" was all that could beplainlydistinguished.

 Whether Mrs. Honour really deserved that suspicionof which hermistressgave her a hintis a matter which we cannot indulge ourreader'scuriosity by resolving. We willhowevermake him amendsindisclosing what passed in the mind of Sophia.

  Thereader will be pleased to recollectthat a secret affection forMr. Joneshad insensibly stolen into the bosom of this young lady.That ithad there grown to a pretty great height before she herselfhaddiscovered it. When she first began to perceive its symptomsthesensations were so sweet and pleasingthat she had not resolutionsufficientto check or repel them; and thus she went on cherishing apassion ofwhich she never once considered the consequences.

  Thisincident relating to Molly first opened her eyes. She now firstperceivedthe weakness of which she had been guilty; and though itcaused theutmost perturbation in her mindyet it had the effect ofothernauseous physicand for the time expelled her distemper. Itsoperationindeed was most wonderfully quick; and in the shortintervalwhile her maid was absentso entirely removed all symptomsthat whenMrs. Honour returned with a summons from her fathershe wasbecomeperfectly easyand had brought herself to a thoroughindifferencefor Mr. Jones.

  Thediseases of the mind do in almost every particular imitate thoseof thebody. For which reasonhopethat learned facultyfor whom wehave soprofound a respectwill pardon us the violent hands we havebeennecessitated to lay on several words and phraseswhich ofrightbelong to themand without which our descriptions must havebeen tenunintelligible.

  Nowthere is no one circumstance in which the distempers of the mindbear amore exact analogy to those which are called bodilythanthataptness which both have to a relapse. This is plain in theviolentdiseases of ambition and avarice. I have known ambitionwhen curedat court by frequent disappointments (which are the onlyphysic forit)to break out again in a contest for foreman of thegrand juryat an assizes; and have heard of a man who had so farconqueredavariceas to give away many a sixpencethat comfortedhimselfat laston his deathbedby making a crafty and advantageousbargainconcerning his ensuing funeralwith an undertaker who hadmarriedhis only child.

  Inthe affair of lovewhichout of strict conformity with theStoicphilosophywe shall here treat as a diseasethis pronenessto relapseis no less conspicuous. Thus it happened to poor Sophia;upon whomthe very next time she saw young Jonesall the formersymptomsreturnedand from that time cold and hot fits alternatelyseized herheart.

  Thesituation of this young lady was now very different from what ithad everbeen before. That passion which had formerly been soexquisitelydeliciousbecame now a scorpion in her bosom. Sheresistedit therefore with her utmost forceand summoned everyargumenther reason (which was surprisingly strong for her age)couldsuggestto subdue and expel it. In this she so far succeededthat shebegan to hope from time and absence a perfect cure. Sheresolvedtherefore to avoid Tom Jones as much as possible; for whichpurposeshe began to conceive a design of visiting her aunttowhich shemade no doubt of obtaining her father's consent.

  ButFortunewho had other designs in her headput an immediatestop toany such proceedingby introducing an accidentwhich will berelated inthe next chapter.

Chapter13
A dreadfulaccident which befel Sophia. The gallant behaviour ofJonesandthe more dreadful consequence of that behaviour to theyounglady; with a short digression in favour of the female sex

  Mr.Western grew every day fonder and fonder of Sophiainsomuchthat hisbeloved dogs themselves almost gave place to her in hisaffections;but as he could not prevail on himself to abandon thesehecontrived very cunningly to enjoy their companytogether with thatof hisdaughterby insisting on her riding a-hunting with him.

 Sophiato whom her father's word was a lawreadily complied withhisdesiresthough she had not the least delight in a sportwhichwas of toorough and masculine a nature to suit with herdisposition.She had however another motivebeside her obediencetoaccompany the old gentleman in the chase; for by her presence shehoped insome measure to restrain his impetuosityand to preventhim fromso frequently exposing his neck to the utmost hazard.

  Thestrongest objection was that which would have formerly been aninducementto hernamelythe frequent meeting with young Joneswhomshe haddetermined to avoid; but as the end of the hunting seasonnowapproachedshe hopedby a short absence with her auntto reasonherselfentirely out of her unfortunate passion; and had not any doubtof beingable to meet him in the field the subsequent season withoutthe leastdanger.

  Onthe second day of her huntingas she was returning from thechaseandwas arrived within a little distance from Mr. Western'shouseherhorsewhose mettlesome spirit required a better riderfellsuddenly to prancing and capering in such a manner that she wasin themost imminent peril of falling. Tom Joneswho was at alittledistance behindsaw thisand immediately galloped up to herassistance.As soon as he came uphe leapt from his own horseandcaughthold of hers by the bridle. The unruly beast presently rearedhimself onend on his hind legsand threw his lovely burthen from hisbackandJones caught her in his arms.

  Shewas so affected with the frightthat she was not immediatelyable tosatisfy Joneswho was very sollicitous to know whether shehadreceived any hurt. She soon afterhoweverrecovered her spiritsassuredhim she was safeand thanked him for the care he had taken ofher. Jonesanswered"If I have preserved youmadamI amsufficientlyrepaid; for I promise youI would have secured youfrom theleast harm at the expense of a much greater misfortune tomyselfthan I have suffered on this occasion."

 "What misfortune?" replied Sophia eagerly; "I hope youhave cometo nomischief?"

  "Benot concernedmadam" answered Jones. "Heaven be praisedyouhaveescaped so wellconsidering the danger you was in. If I havebroke myarmI consider it as a triflein comparison of what Ifearedupon your account."

 Sophia then screamed out"Broke your arm! Heaven forbid."

  "Iam afraid I havemadam" says Jones: "but I beg you willsuffer mefirst to take care of you. I have a right hand yet at yourserviceto help you into the next fieldwhence we have but a verylittlewalk to your father's house."

 Sophia seeing his left arm dangling by his sidewhile he wasusing theother to lead herno longer doubted of the truth. She nowgrew muchpaler than her fears for herself had made her before. Allher limbswere seized with a tremblinginsomuch that Jones couldscarcesupport her; and as her thoughts were in no less agitationshecould notrefrain from giving Jones a look so full of tendernessthatit almostargued a stronger sensation in her mindthan even gratitudeand pityunited can raise in the gentlest female bosomwithout theassistanceof a third more powerful passion.

  Mr.Westernwho was advanced at some distance when this accidenthappenedwas now returnedas were the rest of the horsemen. Sophiaimmediatelyacquainted them with what had befallen Jonesand beggedthem totake care of him. Upon which Westernwho had been muchalarmed bymeeting his daughter's horse without its riderand was nowoverjoyedto find her unhurtcried out"I am glad it is no worse. IfTom hathbroken his armwe will get a joiner to mend un again."

  Thesquire alighted from his horseand proceeded to his house onfootwithhis daughter and ones. An impartial spectatorwho hadmet themon the waywouldon viewing their several countenanceshaveconcluded Sophia alone to have been the object of compassion: foras toJoneshe exulted in having probably saved the life of the youngladyatthe price only of a broken bone; and Mr. Westernthough hewas notunconcerned at the accident which had befallen Joneswashoweverdelighted in a much higher degree with the fortunate escapeof hisdaughter.

  Thegenerosity of Sophia's temper construed this behaviour ofJones intogreat bravery; and it made a deep impression on herheart: forcertain it isthat there is no one quality which sogenerallyrecommends men to women as this; proceedingif we believethe commonopinionfrom that natural timidity of the sexwhich issays Mr.Osborne"so greatthat a woman is the most cowardly ofall thecreatures God ever made";- a sentiment more remarkable foritsbluntness than for its truth. Aristotlein his PoliticsdoththemIbelievemore justicewhen he says"The modesty andfortitudeof men differ from those virtues in women; for the fortitudewhichbecomes a womanwould be cowardice in a man; and the modestywhichbecomes a manwould be pertness in a woman." Nor is thereperhapsmore of truth in the opinion of those who derive thepartialitywhich women are inclined to show to the bravefrom thisexcess oftheir fear. Mr. Bayle (I thinkin his article of Helen)imputesthisand with greater probabilityto their violent love ofglory; forthe truth of whichwe have the authority of him who of allothers sawfarthest into human natureand who introduces theheroine ofhis Odysseythe great pattern of matrimonial love andconstancyassigning the glory of her husband as the only source ofheraffection towards him.

 However this becertain it is that the accident operated verystronglyon Sophia; andindeedafter much enquiry into the matterIaminclined to believethatat this very timethe charming Sophiamade noless impression on the heart of Jones; to say truthhe hadfor sometime become sensible of the irresistible power of her charms.

Chapter14
Thearrival of a surgeon- his operationsand a long dialoguebetweenSophia and her maid

 When they arrived at Mr. Western's hallSophiawho had totteredalong withmuch difficultysunk down in her chair; but by theassistanceof hartshorn and watershe was prevented from faintingawayandhad pretty well recovered her spiritswhen the surgeonwho wassent for to Jones appeared. Mr. Westernwho imputed thesesymptomsin his daughter to her falladvised her to be presentlyblooded byway of prevention. In this opinion he was seconded by thesurgeonwho gave so many reasons for bleedingand quoted so manycaseswhere persons had miscarried for want of itthat the squirebecamevery importunateand indeed insisted peremptorily that hisdaughtershould be blooded.

 Sophia soon yielded to the commands of her fatherthough entirelycontraryto her own inclinationsfor she suspectedI believelessdangerfrom the frightthan either the squire or the surgeon. Shethenstretched out her beautiful armand the operator began topreparefor his work.

 While the servants were busied in providing materialsthesurgeonwho imputed the backwardness which had appeared in Sophiato herfearsbegan to comfort her with assurances that there wasnot theleast danger; for no accidenthe saidcould ever happen inbleedingbut from the monstrous ignorance of pretenders to surgerywhich hepretty plainly insinuated was not at present to beapprehended.Sophia declared she was not under the least apprehension;adding"If you open an arteryI promise you I'll forgive you."

"Willyou?"cries Western: "D--n meif I will. If he does thee the leastmischiefd--n me if I don't ha' the heart's blood o'un out." Thesurgeonassented to bleed her upon these conditionsand thenproceededto his operationwhich he performed with as muchdexterityas he had promised; and with as much quickness: for hetook butlittle blood from hersayingit was much safer to bleedagain andagainthan to take away too much at once.

 Sophiawhen her arm was bound upretired: for she was notwilling(nor was itperhapsstrictly decent) to be present at theoperationon Jones. Indeedone objection which she had to bleeding(thoughshe did not make it) was the delay which it would occasionto settingthe broken bone. For Westernwhen Sophia was concernedhad noconsideration but for her; and as for Jones himselfhe "satlikepatience on a monument smiling at grief." To say the truthwhen hesaw the blood springing from the lovely arm of Sophiahescarcethought of what had happened to himself.

  Thesurgeon now ordered his patient to be stript to his shirtandthenentirely baring the armhe began to stretch and examine itinsuch amanner that the tortures he put him to caused Jones to makeseveralwry faces; which the surgeon observinggreatly wondered atcrying"What is the mattersir? I am sure it is impossible Ishouldhurt you." And then holding forth the broken armhe began along andvery learned lecture of anatomyin which simple and doublefractureswere most accurately considered; and the several ways inwhichJones might have broken his arm were discussedwith properannotationsshowing how many of these would have been betterandhow manyworse than the present case.

 Having at length finished his laboured haranguewith which theaudiencethough had greatly raised their attention and admirationwere notmuch edifiedas they really understood not a single syllableof all hehad saidhe proceeded to businesswhich he was moreexpeditiousin finishingthan he had been in beginning.

 Jones was then ordered into a bedwhich Mr. Western compelled himto acceptat his own houseand sentence of water gruel was passedupon him.

 Among the good company which had attended in the hall during thebone-settingMrs. Honour was one; who being summoned to hermistressas soon as it was overand asked by her how the younggentlemandidpresently launched into extravagant praises on themagnanimityas she called itof his behaviourwhichshe said"wassocharming in so pretty a creature." She then burst forth intomuchwarmerencomiums on the beauty of his person; enumerating manyparticularsand ending with the whiteness of his skin.

 This discourse had an effect on Sophia's countenancewhich wouldnotperhaps have escaped the observance of the sagaciouswaiting-womanhad she once looked her mistress in the faceall thetime shewas speaking: but as a looking-glasswhich was mostcommodiouslyplaced opposite to hergave her an opportunity ofsurveyingthose featuresin whichof all othersshe took mostdelight;so she had not once removed her eyes from that amiable objectduring herwhole speech.

 Mrs. Honour was so intirely wrapped up in the subject on which sheexercisedher tongueand the object before her eyesthat she gavehermistress time to conquer her confusion; which having doneshesmiled onher maidand told her"she was certainly in love with thisyoungfellow."

"I in lovemadam!" answers she: "uponmy wordma'amIassure youma'amupon my soulma'amI am not."

"Whyifyou was"cries her mistress"I see no reason that you should beashamed ofit; for he is certainly a pretty fellow."

"Yesma'am"answeredthe other"that he isthe most handsomest man I ever saw inmy life.Yesto be surethat he isandas your ladyship saysIdon't knowwhy I should be ashamed of loving himthough he is mybetters.To be suregentlefolks are but flesh and blood no morethan usservants. Besidesas for Mr. Jonesthof Squire Allworthyhath madea gentleman of himhe was not so good as myself by birth:for thof Iam a poor bodyI am an honest person's childand myfather andmother were marriedwhich is more than some people cansayashigh as they hold their heads. Marrycome up! I assure youmy dirtycousin! thof his skin be so whiteand to be sure it is themostwhitest that ever was seenI am a Christian as well as heandnobody cansay that I am base born: my grandfather was a clergymanand wouldhave been very angryI believeto have thought any ofhis familyshould have taken up with Molly Seagrim's dirty leavings."

 Perhaps Sophia might have suffered her maid to run on in thismannerfrom wanting sufficient spirits to stop her tonguewhichthe readermay probably conjecture was no very easy task; forcertainlythere were some passages in her speech which were far frombeingagreeable to the lady. Howevershe now checked the torrentas thereseemed no end of its flowing. "I wonder" says she"atyourassurance in daring to talk thus of one of my father's friends.As to thewenchI order you never to mention her name to me. And withregard tothe young gentleman's birththose who can say nothingmore tohis disadvantagemay as well be silent on that headas Idesire youwill be for the future."

  "Iam sorry I have offended your ladyship" answered Mrs. Honour."Iam sure Ihate Molly Seagrim as much as your ladyship can; and asforabusing Squire JonesI can call all the servants in the housetowitnessthat whenever any talk hath been about bastardsI havealwaystaken his part; for which of yousays I to the footmanwould notbe a bastardif he couldto be made a gentleman of? Andsays IIam sure he is a very fine gentleman; and he hath one ofthewhitest hands in the world; for to be sure so he hath: andsaysIone ofthe sweetest temperedestbest naturedest men in the worldhe is;andsays Iall the servants and neighbours all round thecountryloves him. Andto be sureI could tell your ladyshipsomethingbut that I am afraid it would offend you."

"What couldyou tellmeHonour?" says Sophia. "Nayma'amto be sure he meantnothing byittherefore I would not have your ladyship beoffended."

"Prithee tell me" says Sophia; "I will know it thisinstant."

"Whyma'am" answered Mrs. Honour"he came into theroomone daylast week when I was at workand there lay your ladyship'smuff on achairand to be sure he put his hands into it; that verymuff yourladyship gave me but yesterday. La! says IMr. Jonesyouwillstretch my lady's muffand spoil it: but he still kept his handsin it: andthen he kissed it- to be sure I hardly ever saw such akiss in mylife as he gave it."

"I suppose he did not know it wasmine"replied Sophia. "Your ladyship shall hearma'am. He kissedit againand againand said it was the prettiest muff in the world.La! sirsays Iyou have seen it a hundred times. YesMrs. Honourcried he;but who can see anything beautiful in the presence of yourlady butherself?- Naythat's not all neither; but I hope yourladyshipwon't be offendedfor to be sure he meant nothing. Onedayasyour ladyship was playing on the harpsichord to my masterMr.Jones wassitting in the next roomand methought he lookedmelancholy.La! says IMr. Joneswhat's the matter? a penny for yourthoughtssays I. Whyhussysays hestarting up from a dreamwhat can Ibe thinking ofwhen that angel your mistress is playing?And thensqueezing me by the handOh! Mrs. Honoursays hehow happywill thatman be!- and then he sighed. Upon my trothhis breath isas sweetas a nosegay.- But to be sure he meant no harm by it. So Ihope yourladyship will not mention a word; for he gave me a crownnever tomention itand made me swear upon a bookbut I believeindeeditwas not the Bible."

 Till something of a more beautiful red than vermilion be foundoutIshall say nothing of Sophia's colour on this occasion."Honour"says she"I- if you will not mention this any more to me-nor toanybody elseI will not betray you-I meanI will not beangry; butI am afraid of your tongue. Whymy girlwill you give itsuchliberties?"

"Nayma'am" answered she"to besureI wouldsooner cutout my tongue than offend your ladyship. To be sure I shallnevermention a word that your ladyship would not have me."

"WhyIwould nothave you mention this any more" said Sophia"for it maycome to myfather's earsand he would be angry with Mr. Jones; thoughI reallybelieveas you sayhe meant nothing. I should be very angrymyselfifI imagined-"

"Nayma'am" says Honour"Iprotest Ibelieve hemeant nothing. I thought he talked as if he was out ofhissenses; nayhe said he believed he was beside himself when he hadspoken thewords. Aysirsays II believe so too. Yessays heHonour.-But I ask your ladyship's pardon; I could tear my tongue outforoffending you."

"Go on" says Sophia; "you maymention anythingyou havenot told me before."

"YesHonoursays he (this was sometimeafterwardswhen he gave me the crown)I am neither such acoxcombor such a villainas to think of her in any other delightbut as mygoddess; as such I will always worship and adore her while Ihavebreath.- This was allma'amI will be swornto the best of myremembrance.I was in a passion with him myselftill I found he meantno harm."

"IndeedHonour" says Sophia"I believe you have arealaffectionfor me. I was provoked the other day when I gave youwarning;but if you have a desire to stay with meyou shall."

"Tobe surema'am" answered Mrs. Honour"I shall never desire to partwith yourladyship. To be sureI almost cried my eyes out when yougave mewarning. It would be very ungrateful in me to desire toleave yourladyship; because as whyI should never get so good aplaceagain. I am sure I would live and die with your ladyship; foras poorMr. Jones saidhappy is the man--"

 Here the dinner bell interrupted a conversation which had wroughtsuch aneffect on Sophiathat she wasperhapsmore obliged to herbleedingin the morningthan sheat the timehad apprehended sheshould be.As to the present situation of her mindI shall adhereto a ruleof Horaceby not attempting to describe itfrom despair ofsuccess.Most of my readers will suggest it easily to themselves;and thefew who cannotwould not understand the pictureor atleastwould deny it to be naturalif ever so well drawn.

BOOK VCONTAININGA PORTION OF TIME SOMEWHAT LONGER THAN HALF A YEAR

Chapter1
Of theserious in writingand for what purpose it is introduced

 Peradventure there may be no parts in this prodigious work whichwill givethe reader less pleasure in the perusingthan those whichhave giventhe author the greatest pains in composing. Among theseprobablymay be reckoned those initial essays which we have prefixedto thehistorical matter contained in every book; and which we havedeterminedto be essentially necessary to this kind of writingofwhich wehave set ourselves at the head.

  Forthis our determination we do not hold ourselves strictly boundto assignany reason; itbeing abundantly sufficient that we havelaid itdown as a rule necessary to be observed in allprosai-comi-epicwriting. Who ever demanded the reasons of that niceunity oftime or place which is now established to be so essentialtodramatic poetry? What critic hath been ever askedwhy a play maynotcontain two days as well as one? Or why the audience (providedtheytravellike electorswithout any expense) may not be waftedfiftymiles as well as five? Hath any commentator well accounted forthelimitation which an antient critic hath set to the dramawhich hewill havecontain neither more nor less than five acts? Or hath anyone livingattempted to explain what the modern judges of our theatresmean bythat word low; by which they have happily succeeded inbanishingall humour from the stageand have made the theatre as dullas adrawing-room! Upon all these occasions the world seems to haveembraced amaxim of our lawviz.cuicunque in arte sua peritocredendumest: for it seems perhaps difficult to conceivethat anyone shouldhave had enough of impudence to lay down dogmatical rulesin any artor science without the least foundation. In such casesthereforewe are apt to conclude there are sound and good reasonsat thebottomthough we are unfortunately not able to see so far.

 Nowin realitythe world have paid too great a compliment tocriticsand have imagined them men of much greater profundity thantheyreally are. From this complacencethe critics have beenemboldenedto assume a dictatorial powerand have so far succeededthat theyare now become the mastersand have the assurance to givelaws tothose authors from whose predecessors they originally receivedthem.

  Thecriticrightly consideredis no more than the clerkwhoseoffice itis to transcribe the rules and laws laid down by those greatjudgeswhose vast strength of genius hath placed them in the lightoflegislatorsin the several sciences over which they presided. Thisoffice wasall which the critics of old aspired to; nor did theyever dareto advance a sentencewithout supporting it by theauthorityof the judge from whence it was borrowed.

  Butin process of timeand in ages of ignorancethe clerk began toinvade thepower and assume the dignity of his master. The laws ofwritingwere no longer founded on the practice of the authorbut onthedictates of the critic. The clerk became the legislatorand thoseveryperemptorily gave laws whose business it wasat firstonly totranscribethem.

 Hence arose an obviousand perhaps an unavoidable error; forthesecritics being men of shallow capacitiesvery easily mistookmere formfor substance. They acted as a judge wouldwho shouldadhere tothe lifeless letter of lawand reject the spirit. Littlecircumstanceswhich were perhaps accidental in a great authorwereby thesecritics considered to constitute his chief meritandtransmittedas essentials to be observed by his successors. To theseencroachmentstime and ignorancethe two great supporters ofimposturegave authority; and thus many rules for good writing havebeenestablishedwhich have not the least foundation in truth ornature;and which commonly serve for no other purpose than to curb andrestraingeniusin the same manner as it would have restrained thedancing-masterhad the many excellent treatises on that art laid itdown as anessential rule that every man must dance in chains.

  Toavoidthereforeall imputation of laying down a rule forposterityfounded only on the authority of ipse dixit- forwhichto say thetruthwe have not the profoundest veneration- we shallhere waivethe privilege above contended forand proceed to laybefore thereader the reasons which have induced us to interspersetheseseveral digressive essays in the course of this work.

  Andhere we shall of necessity be led to open a new vein ofknowledgewhich if it hath been discoveredhath notto ourremembrancebeen wrought on by any antient or modern writer. Thisvein is noother than that of contrastwhich runs through all theworks ofthe creationand may probably have a large share inconstitutingin us the idea of all beautyas well natural asartificial:for what demonstrates the beauty and excellence ofanythingbut its reverse? Thus the beauty of dayand that ofsummerisset off by the horrors of night and winter. AndI believeif it waspossible for a man to have seen only the two formerhewould havea very imperfect idea of their beauty.

  Butto avoid too serious an air; can it be doubtedbut that thefinestwoman in the world would lose all benefit of her charms inthe eye ofa man who had never seen one of another cast? The ladiesthemselvesseem so sensible of thisthat they are all industriousto procurefoils: naythey will become foils to themselves; for Ihaveobserved (at Bath particularly) that they endeavour to appearas ugly aspossible in the morningin order to set off that beautywhich theyintend to show you in the evening.

 Most artists have this secret in practicethough someperhapshave notmuch studied the theory. The jeweller knows that the finestbrilliantrequires a foil; and the painterby the contrast of hisfiguresoften acquires great applause.

  Agreat genius among us will illustrate this matter fully. I cannotindeedrange him under any general head of common artistsas he hatha title tobe placed among those

    Inventas qui vitam excoluere per artes.
 
    Who by invented arts have life improved.

I meanhere the inventor of that most exquisite entertainmentcalled theEnglish Pantomime.

 This entertainment consisted of two partswhich the inventordistinguishedby the names of the serious and the comic. The seriousexhibiteda certain number of heathen gods and heroeswho werecertainlythe worst and dullest company into which an audience waseverintroduced; and (which was a secret known to few) were actuallyintendedso to bein order to contrast the comic part of theentertainmentand to display the tricks of harlequin to the betteradvantage.

 This wasperhapsno very civil use of such personages: but thecontrivancewasneverthelessingenious enoughand had its effect.And thiswill now plainly appearifinstead of serious and comicwesupply thewords duller and dullest; for the comic was certainlydullerthan anything before shown on the stageand could be set offonly bythat superlative degree of dulness which composed the serious.Sointolerably seriousindeedwere these gods and heroesthatharlequin(though the English gentleman of that name is not at allrelated tothe French familyfor he is of a much more seriousdisposition)was always welcome on the stageas he relieved theaudiencefrom worse company.

 Judicious writers have always practised this art of contrast withgreatsuccess. I have been surprized that Horace should cavil atthis artin Homer; but indeed he contradicts himself in the verynext line:

    Indignor quandoque bonus dormitat Homerus;
    Verum opere in longo fas est obrepere somnum.
 
    I grieve if e'er great Homer chance to sleep
    Yet slumbers on long works have right to creep.

For we arenot here to understandas perhaps some havethat anauthoractually falls asleep while he is writing. It is truethatreadersare too apt to be so overtaken; but if the work was as long asany ofOldmixonthe author himself is too well entertained to besubject tothe least drowsiness. He isas Mr. Pope observes

    Sleepless himself to give his readers sleep.

  Tosay the truththese soporific parts are so many scenes ofseriousartfully interwovenin order to contrast and set off therest; andthis is the true meaning of a late facetious writerwhotold thepublic that whenever he was dull they might be assuredthere wasa design in it.

  Inthis lightthenor rather in this darknessI would have thereader toconsider these initial essays. And after this warningif heshall beof opinion that he can find enough of serious in otherparts ofthis historyhe may pass over thesein which we professto belaboriously dulland begin the following books at the secondchapter.

Chapter2
In whichMr. Jones receives many friendly visits during hisconfinement;with some fine touches of the passion of lovescarcevisible tothe naked eye

  TomJones had many visitors during his confinementthough someperhapswere not very agreeable to him. Mr. Allworthy saw himalmostevery day; but though he pitied Tom's sufferingsand greatlyapprovedthe gallant behaviour which had occasioned them; yet hethoughtthis was a favourable opportunity to bring him to a sobersense ofhis indiscreet conduct; and that wholesome advice for thatpurposecould never be applied at a more proper season than at thepresentwhen the mind was softened by pain and sicknessandalarmed bydanger; and when its attention was unembarrassed with thoseturbulentpassions which engage us in the pursuit of pleasure.

  Atall seasonsthereforewhen the good man was alone with theyouthespecially when the latter was totally at easehe tookoccasionto remind him of his former miscarriagesbut in themildestand tenderest mannerand only in order to introduce thecautionwhich he prescribed for his future behaviour; "on whichalone"he assured him"would depend his own felicityand thekindnesswhich he might yet promise himself to receive at the hands ofhis fatherby adoptionunless he should hereafter forfeit his goodopinion:for as to what had past" he said"it should be allforgivenandforgotten. He therefore advised him to make a good use of thisaccidentthat so in the end it might prove a visitation for his owngood."

 Thwackum was likewise pretty assiduous in his visits; and he tooconsidereda sick-bed to be a convenient scene for lectures. Hisstilehoweverwas more severe than Mr. Allworthy's: he told hispupil"That he ought to look on his broken limb as a judgment fromheaven onhis sins. That it would become him to be daily on his kneespouringforth thanksgivings that he had broken his arm onlyand nothis neck;which latter" he said"was very probably reserved forsomefutureoccasionand thatperhapsnot very remote. For his part" hesaid"hehad often wondered some judgment had not overtaken himbefore;but it might be perceived by thisthat Divine punishmentsthoughsloware always sure." Hence likewise he advised him"toforeseewith equal certaintythe greater evils which were yetbehindand which were as sure as this of overtaking him in hisstate ofreprobacy. These are" said he"to be averted only by suchathoroughand sincere repentance as is not to be expected or hopedfor fromone so abandoned in his youthand whose mindI am afraidis totallycorrupted. It is my dutyhoweverto exhort you to thisrepentancethough I too well know all exhortations will be vain andfruitless.But liberavi animam meam. I can accuse my own conscience ofnoneglect; though it is at the same time with the utmost concern Isee youtravelling on to certain misery in this worldand to ascertaindamnation in the next."

 Square talked in a very different strain; he said"Suchaccidentsas abroken bone were below the consideration of a wise man. That itwasabundantly sufficient to reconcile the mind to any of thesemischancesto reflect that they are liable to befal the wisest ofmankindand are undoubtedly for the good of the whole." He said"Itwas a mere abuse of words to call those things evilsin whichthere wasno moral unfitness: that painwhich was the worstconsequenceof such accidentswas the most contemptible thing intheworld"; with more of the like sentencesextracted out of thesecondbook of Tully's Tusculan questionsand from the great LordShaftesbury.In pronouncing these he was one day so eagerthat heunfortunatelybit his tongue; and in such a mannerthat it not onlyput an endto his discoursebut created much emotion in himandcaused himto mutter an oath or two: but what was worst of allthisaccidentgave Thwackumwho was presentand who held all suchdoctrineto be heathenish and atheisticalan opportunity to clap ajudgmenton his back. Now this was done with so malicious a sneerthat ittotally unhinged (if I may so say) the temper of thephilosopherwhich the bite of his tongue had somewhat ruffled; and ashe wasdisabled from venting his wrath at his lipshe had possiblyfound amore violent method of revenging himselfhad not the surgeonwho wasthen luckily in the roomcontrary to his own interestinterposedand preserved the peace.

  Mr.Blifil visited his friend Jones but seldomand never alone.Thisworthy young manhoweverprofessed much regard for himandas greatconcern at his misfortune; but cautiously avoided anyintimacylestas he frequently hintedit might contaminate thesobrietyof his own character: for which purpose he had constantlyin hismouth that proverb in which Solomon speaks against evilcommunication.Not that he was so bitter as Thwackum; for he alwaysexpressedsome hopes of Tom's reformation; "which" he said"theunparalleledgoodness shown by his uncle on this occasionmustcertainlyeffect in one not absolutely abandoned": but concludedifMr. Jonesever offends hereafterI shall not be able to say asyllablein his favour."

  Asto Squire Westernhe was seldom out of the sick-roomunlesswhen hewas engaged either in the field or over his bottle. Nayhewouldsometimes retire hither to take his beerand it was not withoutdifficultythat he was prevented from forcing Jones to take his beertoo: forno quack ever held his nostrum to be a more general panaceathan hedid this; whichhe saidhad more virtue in it than was inall thephysic in an apothecary's shop. He washoweverby muchentreatyprevailed on to forbear the application of this medicine;but fromserenading his patient every hunting morning with the hornunder hiswindowit was impossible to withhold him; nor did he everlay asidethat hallowwith which he entered into all companieswhen hevisited Joneswithout any regard to the sick person's beingat thattime either awake or asleep.

 This boisterous behaviouras it meant no harmso happily iteffectednoneand was abundantly compensated to Jonesas soon ashe wasable to sit upby the company of Sophiawhom the squirethenbrought to visit him; nor was itindeedlong before Jones wasable toattend her to the harpsichordwhere she would kindlycondescendfor hours togetherto charm him with the most deliciousmusicunless when the squire thought proper to interrupt herbyinsistingon Old Sir Simonor some other of his favourite pieces.

 Notwithstanding the nicest guard which Sophia endeavoured to seton herbehaviourshe could not avoid letting some appearances now andthen slipforth: for love may again be likened to a disease in thisthat whenit is denied a vent in one partit will certainly break outinanother. What her lipsthereforeconcealedher eyesherblushesand many little involuntary actionsbetrayed.

  Onedaywhen Sophia was playing on the harpsichordand Jones wasattendingthe squire came into the roomcrying"ThereTomIhave had abattle for thee below-stairs with thick parson Thwackum. Hehath beena telling Allworthybefore my facethat the broken bonewas ajudgment upon thee. D--n itsays Ihow can that be? Did henot comeby it in defence of a young woman? A judgment indeed! Poxifhe neverdoth anything worsehe will go to heaven sooner than all theparsons inthe country. He hath more reason to glory in it than tobe ashamedof it."

"Indeedsir" says Jones"I have noreason foreither;but if it preserved Miss WesternI shall always think itthehappiest accident of my life."

"And to gu" said thesquire"tozetAllworthy against thee vor it! D--n unif the parson had unt hispetticuoatsonI should have lent un o flick; for I love thee dearlymy boyand d--n me if there is anything in my power which I won't dofor thee.Sha't take thy choice of all the horses in my stableto-morrowmorningexcept only the Chevalier and Miss Slouch." Jonesthankedhimbut declined accepting the offer. "Nay" added thesquire"sha't ha the sorrel mare that Sophy rode. She cost me fiftyguineasand comes six years old this grass."

"If she had cost me athousand"cries Jones passionately"I would have given her to thedogs."

"Pooh! pooh!" answered Western; "what! because shebroke thyarm?Shouldst forget and forgive. I thought hadst been more a man thanto bearmalice against a dumb creature."- Here Sophia interposedandput an endto the conversationby desiring her father's leave to playto him; arequest which he never refused.

  Thecountenance of Sophia had undergone more than one changeduring theforegoing speeches; and probably she imputed the passionateresentmentwhich Jones had expressed against the mareto adifferentmotive from that from which her father had derived it. Herspiritswere at this time in a visible flutter; and she played sointolerablyillthat had not Western soon fallen asleephe must haveremarkedit. Joneshoweverwho was sufficiently awakeand was notwithout anear any more than without eyesmade some observations;whichbeing joined to all which the reader may remember to have passedformerlygave him pretty strong assuranceswhen he came to reflecton thewholethat all was not well in the tender bosom of Sophia;an opinionwhich many young gentlemen willI doubt notextremelywonder athis not having been well confirmed in long ago. To confessthe truthhe had rather too much diffidence in himselfand was notforwardenough in seeing the advances of a young lady; a misfortunewhich canbe cured only by that early town educationwhich is atpresent sogenerally in fashion.

 When these thoughts had fully taken possession of Jonestheyoccasioneda perturbation in his mindwhichin a constitution lesspure andfirm than hismight have beenat such a seasonattendedwith verydangerous consequences. He was truly sensible of the greatworth ofSophia. He extremely liked her personno less admired heraccomplishmentsand tenderly loved her goodness. In realityas hehad neveronce entertained any thought of possessing hernor had evergiven theleast voluntary indulgence to his inclinationshe had amuchstronger passion for her than he himself was acquainted with. Hisheart nowbrought forth the full secretat the same time that itassuredhim the adorable object returned his affection.

Chapter3
Which allwho have no heart will think to contain much ado aboutNothing

  Thereader will perhaps imagine the sensations which now arose inJones tohave been so sweet and deliciousthat they would rather tendto producea chearful serenity in the mindthan any of thosedangerouseffects which we have mentioned; but in factsensationsof thiskindhowever deliciousareat their first recognitionof averytumultuous natureand have very little of the opiate in them.They weremoreoverin the present caseembittered with certaincircumstanceswhich being mixed with sweeter ingredientstendedaltogetherto compose a draught that might be termed bitter-sweet;thanwhichas nothing can be more disagreeable to the palatesonothingin the metaphorical sensecan be so injurious to the mind.

  Forfirstthough he had sufficient foundation to flatter himself inwhat hehad observed in Sophiahe was not yet free from doubt ofmisconstruingcompassionor at bestesteeminto a warmer regard. Hewas farfrom a sanguine assurance that Sophia had any such affectiontowardshimas might promise his inclinations that harvestwhichifthey wereencouraged and nursedthey would finally grow up torequire.Besidesif he could hope to find no bar to his happinessfrom thedaughterhe thought himself certain of meeting aneffectualbar in the father; whothough he was a country squire inhisdiversionswas perfectly a man of the world in whateverregardedhis fortune; had the most violent affection for his onlydaughterand had often signifiedin his cupsthe pleasure heproposedin seeing her married to one of the richest men in thecounty.Jones was not so vain and senseless a coxcomb as to expectfrom anyregard which Western had professed for himthat he wouldever beinduced to lay aside these views of advancing his daughter. Hewell knewthat fortune is generally the principalif not the soleconsiderationwhich operates on the best of parents in these matters:forfriendship makes us warmly espouse the interest of others; butit is verycold to the gratification of their passions. Indeedtofeel thehappiness which may result from thisit is necessary weshouldpossess the passion ourselves. As he had therefore no hopesofobtaining her father's consent; so he thought to endeavour tosucceedwithout itand by such means to frustrate the great pointof Mr.Western's lifewas to make a very ill use of hishospitalityand a very ungrateful return to the many little favoursreceived(however roughly) at his hands. If he saw such aconsequencewith horror and disdainhow much more was he shocked withwhatregarded Mr. Allworthy; to whomas he had more than filialobligationsso had he for him more than filial piety! He knew thenature ofthat good man to be so averse to any baseness ortreacherythat the least attempt of such a kind would make thesight ofthe guilty person for ever odious to his eyesand his name adetestablesound in his ears. The appearance of such unsurmountabledifficultieswas sufficient to have inspired him with despairhoweverardent hiswishes had been; but even these were controuled bycompassionfor another woman. The idea of lovely Molly now intrudeditselfbefore him. He had sworn eternal constancy in her armsand shebad asoften vowed never to out-live his deserting her. He now saw herin all themost shocking postures of death; nayhe considered all themiseriesof prostitution to which she would be liableand of which hewould bedoubly the occasion; first by seducingand then by desertingher; forhe well knew the hatred which all her neighboursand evenher ownsistersbore herand how ready they would all be to tear herto pieces.Indeedhe had exposed her to more envy than shameorrather tothe latter by means of the former: for many women abused herfor beinga whorewhile they envied her her lover and her fineryandwould havebeen themselves glad to have purchased these at the samerate. Theruinthereforeof the poor girl musthe foresawunavoidablyattend his deserting her; and this thought stung him tothe soul.Poverty and distress seemed to him to give none a right ofaggravatingthose misfortunes. The meanness of her condition did notrepresenther misery as of little consequence in his eyesnor didit appearto justifyor even to palliatehis guiltin bringing thatmiseryupon her. But why do I mention justification? His own heartwould notsuffer him to destroy a human creature whohe thoughtloved himand had to that love sacrificed her innocence. His own goodheartpleaded her cause; not as a cold venal advocatebut as oneinterestedin the eventand which must itself deeply share in all theagoniesits owner brought on another.

 When this powerful advocate had sufficiently raised the pity ofJonesbypainting poor Molly in all the circumstances ofwretchedness;it artfully called in the assistance of another passionandrepresented the girl in all the amiable colours of youthhealthand beauty; as one greatly the object of desireand much moresoatleast to a good mindfrom beingat the same timetheobject ofcompassion.

 Amidst these thoughtspoor Jones passed a long sleepless nightandin themorning the result of the whole was to abide by Mollyand tothink nomore of Sophia.

  Inthis virtuous resolution he continued all the next day till theeveningcherishing the idea of Mollyand driving Sophia from histhoughts;but in the fatal eveninga very trifling accident set allhispassions again on floatand worked so total a change in his mindthat wethink it decent to communicate it in a fresh chapter.

Chapter4
A littlechapterin which is contained a little incident

 Among other visitantswho paid their compliments to the younggentlemanin his confinementMrs. Honour was one. The readerperhapswhen he reflects on some expressions which have formerlydropt fromhermay conceive that she herself had a very particularaffectionfor Mr. Jones; butin realityit was no such thing. Tomwas ahandsome young fellow; and for that species of men Mrs. Honourhad someregard; but this was perfectly indiscriminate; for havingbeingcrossed in the love which she bore a certain nobleman's footmanwho hadbasely deserted her after a promise of marriageshe had sosecurelykept together the broken remains of her heartthat no manhad eversince been able to possess himself of any single fragment.She viewedall handsome men with that equal regard and benevolencewhich asober and virtuous mind bears to all the good. She mightindeed becalled a lover of menas Socrates was a lover of mankindpreferringone to another for corporealas he for mentalqualifications;but never carrying this preference so far as tocause anyperturbation in the philosophical serenity of her temper.

  Theday after Mr. Jones had that conflict with himself which we haveseen inthe preceding chapterMrs. Honour came into his roomandfindinghim alonebegan in the following manner:

"Lasirwhere doyou thinkI have been? I warrants youyou would not guess in fiftyyears; butif you did guessto be sure I must not tell youneither."

"Nayif it be something which you must not tell me" saidJones"Ishall have the curiosity to enquireand I know you will notbe sobarbarous to refuse me."

"I don't know" cries she"why Ishouldrefuse you neitherfor that matter; for to be sure you won'tmention itany more. And for that matterif you knew where I havebeenunless you knew what I have been aboutit would not signifymuch. NayI don't see why it should be kept a secret for my part; forto be sureshe is the best lady in the world." Upon thisJonesbegan tobeg earnestly to be let into this secretand faithfullypromisednot to divulge it. She then proceeded thus:

"Whyyou mustknowsirmy young lady sent me to enquire after Molly Seagrimandto seewhether the wench wanted anything; to be sureI did not careto gomethinks; but servants must do what they are ordered.- Howcould youundervalue yourself soMr. Jones?- So my lady bid me go andcarry hersome linenand other things. She is too good. If suchforwardsluts were sent to Bridewellit would be better for them. Itold myladysays Imadamyour la'ship is encouraging idleness."

"Andwas my Sophia so good?" says Jones. "My Sophia! I assureyoumarry comeup" answered Honour. "And yet if you knew all- indeedifI was asMr. JonesI should look a little higher than such trumperyas MollySeagrim."

"What do you mean by these words" repliedJones"if Iknew all?"

"I mean what I mean" says Honour. "Don'tyourememberputting your hands in my lady's muff once? I vow I couldalmostfind in my heart to tellif I was certain my lady would nevercome tothe hearing on't." Jones then made several solemnprotestations.And Honour proceeded

"Then to be suremy lady gave methat muff;and afterwardsupon hearing what you had done"-

"Then youtold herwhat I had done?" interrupted Jones. "If I didsir"answeredshe"you need not be angry with me. Many's the man wouldhave givenhis head to have had my lady toldif they had known- forto besurethe biggest lord in the land might be proud- butIprotestIhave a great mind not to tell you." Jones fell toentreatiesand soon prevailed on her to go on thus. "You must knowthensirthat my lady had given this muff to me; but about a day ortwo afterI had told her the storyshe quarrels with her new muffand to besure it is the prettiest that ever was seen. Honoursaysshethisis an odious muff; it is too big for meI can't wear it:till I canget anotheryou must let me have my old one againand youmay havethis in the room on't- for she's a good ladyand scorns togive athing and take a thingI promise you that. So to be sure Ifetched ither back againandI believeshe hath worn it upon herarm almostever sinceand I warrants hath given it many a kiss whennobodyhath seen her."

 Here the conversation was interrupted by Mr. Western himselfwhocame tosummon Jones to the harpsichord; whither the poor young fellowwent allpale and trembling. This Western observedbuton seeingMrs.Honourimputed it to a wrong cause; and having given Jones aheartycurse between jest and earnesthe bid him beat abroadand notpoach upthe game in his warren.

 Sophia looked this evening with more than usual beautyand we maybelieve itwas no small addition to her charmsin the eye of Mr.Jonesthat she now happened to have on her right arm this very muff.

  Shewas playing one of her father's favourite tunesand he wasleaning onher chairwhen the muff fell over her fingersand put herout. Thisso disconcerted the squirethat he snatched the muff fromherandwith a hearty curse threw it into the fire. Sophiainstantlystarted upand with the utmost eagerness recovered itfrom theflames.

 Though this incident will probably appear of little consequence tomany ofour readers; yettrifling as it wasit had so violent aneffect onpoor Jonesthat we thought it our duty to relate it. Inrealitythere are many little circumstances too often omitted byinjudicioushistoriansfrom which events of the utmost importancearise. Theworld may indeed be considered as a vast machineinwhich thegreat wheels are originally set in motion by those which areveryminuteand almost imperceptible to any but the strongest eyes.

 Thusnot all the charms of the incomparable Sophia; not all thedazzlingbrightnessand languishing softness of her eyes; the harmonyof hervoiceand of her person; not all her witgood-humourgreatnessof mindor sweetness of dispositionhad been able soabsolutelyto conquer and enslave the heart of poor Jonesas thislittleincident of the muff. Thus the poet sweetly sings of Troy-

    --Captique dolis lachrymisque coacti
    Quos neque Tydidesnec Larissaeus Achilles
    Non anni domuere decemnon mille Carinoe.
 
    What Diomede or Thetis' greater son
    A thousand shipsnor ten years' siege had done
    False tears and fawning words the city won.

  Thecitadel of Jones was now taken by surprise. All thoseconsiderationsof honour and prudence which our heroe had latelywith somuch military wisdom placed as guards over the avenues ofhis heartran away from their postsand the god of love marchedinintriumph.

Chapter5
A verylong chaptercontaining a very great incident

  Butthough this victorious deity easily expelled his avowedenemiesfrom the heart of Joneshe found it more difficult tosupplantthe garrison which he himself had placed there. To layaside allallegorythe concern for what must become of poor Mollygreatlydisturbed and perplexed the mind of the worthy youth. Thesuperiormerit of Sophia totally eclipsedor rather extinguishedallthebeauties of the poor girl; but compassion instead of contemptsucceededto love. He was convinced the girl had placed all heraffectionsand all her prospect of future happinessin him only. Forthis hehadhe knewgiven sufficient occasionby the utmostprofusionof tenderness towards her: a tenderness which he had takeneverymeans to persuade her he would always maintain. Sheon hersidehadassured him of her firm belief in his promiseand hadwith themost solemn vows declaredthat on his fulfilling or breakingthesepromisesit dependedwhether she should be the happiest ormostmiserable of womankind. And to be the author of this highestdegree ofmisery to a human beingwas a thought on which he could notbear toruminate a single moment. He considered this poor girl ashavingsacrificed to him everything in her little power; as havingbeen ather own expense the object of his pleasure; as sighing andlanguishingfor him even at that very instant. Shall thensays hemyrecoveryfor which she hath so ardently wished; shall my presencewhich shehath so eagerly expectedinstead of giving her that joywith whichshe hath flattered herselfcast her at once down intomisery anddespair? Can I be such a villain? Herewhen the geniusof poorMolly seemed triumphantthe love of Sophia towards himwhichnowappeared no longer dubiousrushed upon his mindand bore awayeveryobstacle before it.

  Atlength it occurred to himthat he might possibly be able to makeMollyamends another way; namelyby giving her a sum of money.Thisneverthelesshe almost despaired of her acceptingwhen herecollectedthe frequent and vehement assurances he had receivedfrom herthat the world put in balance with him would make her noamends forhis loss. Howeverher extreme povertyand chiefly heregregiousvanity (somewhat of which hath been already hinted to thereader)gave him some little hopethatnotwithstanding all heravowedtendernessshe might in time be brought to content herselfwith afortune superior to her expectationand which might indulgehervanityby setting her above all her equals. He resolved thereforeto takethe first opportunity of making a proposal of this kind.

  Onedayaccordinglywhen his arm was so well recovered that hecould walkeasily with it slung in a sashhe stole forthat a seasonwhen thesquire was engaged in his field exercisesand visited hisfair one.Her mother and sisterswhom he found taking their teainformedhim first that Molly was not at home; but afterwards theeldestsister acquainted himwith a malicious smilethat she wasabovestairs a-bed. Tom had no objection to this situation of hismistressand immediately ascended the ladder which let towards herbed-chamber;but when he came to the topheto his great surprisefound thedoor fast; nor could he for some time obtain any answer fromwithin;for Mollyas she herself afterwards informed himwas fastasleep.

  Theextremes of grief and joy have been remarked to produce verysimilareffects; and when either of these rushes on us by surprizeitis apt tocreate such a total perturbation and confusionthat weare oftenthereby deprived of the use of all our faculties. Itcannottherefore be wondered atthat the unexpected sight of Mr.Jonesshould so strongly operate on the mind of Mollyand shouldoverwhelmher with such confusionthat for some minutes she wasunable toexpress the great raptureswith which the reader willsupposeshe was affected on this occasion. As for Joneshe was soentirelypossessedand as it were enchantedby the presence of hisbelovedobjectthat he for a while forgot Sophiaand consequentlytheprincipal purpose of his visit.

 Thishoweversoon recurred to his memory; and after the firsttransportsof their meeting were overhe found means by degrees tointroducea discourse on the fatal consequences which must attendtheiramourif Mr. Allworthywho had strictly forbidden him everseeing hermoreshould discover that he still carried on thiscommerce.Such a discoverywhich his enemies gave him reason to thinkwould beunavoidablemusthe saidend in his ruinand consequentlyin hers.Since therefore their hard fates had determined that theymustseparatehe advised her to bear it with resolutionand swore hewouldnever omit any opportunitythrough the course of his lifeofshowingher the sincerity of his affectionby providing for her ina mannerbeyond her utmost expectationor even beyond her wishesif everthat should be in his power; concluding at lastthat shemight soonfind some man who would marry herand who would make heimuchhappier than she could be by leading a disreputable life withhim.

 Molly remained a few moments in silenceand then bursting into aflood oftearsshe began to upbraid him in the following words:"Andthis is your love for meto forsake me in this mannernow youhaveruined me! How oftenwhen I have told you that all men are falseandperjury alikeand grow tired of us as soon as ever they havehad theirwicked wills of ushow often have you sworn you would neverforsakeme! And can you be such a perjury man after all? Whatsignifiesall the riches in the world to me without younow youhavegained my heartso you have- you have-? Why do you mentionanotherman to me? I can never love any other man as long as I live.All othermen are nothing to me. if the greatest squire in all thecountrywould come a suiting to me to-morrowI would not give mycompany tohim. NoI shall always hate and despise the whole sexfor yoursake."-

  Shewas proceeding thuswhen an accident put a stop to hertonguebefore it had run out half its career. The roomor rathergarretinwhich Molly laybeing up one pair of stairsthat is tosayatthe top of the housewas of a sloping figureresemblingthe greatDelta of the Greeks. The English reader may perhaps form abetteridea of itby being told that it was impossible to standuprightanywhere but in the middle. Nowas this room wanted theconveniencyof a closetMolly hadto supply that defectnailed upan old rugagainst the rafters of the housewhich enclosed a littlehole whereher best apparelsuch as the remains of that sack which wehaveformerly mentionedsome capsand other things with which shehad latelyprovided herselfwere hung up and secured from the dust.

 This enclosed place exactly fronted the foot of the bedto whichindeedthe rug hung so nearthat it served in a manner to supply thewant ofcurtains. Nowwhether Mollyin the agonies of her ragepushedthis rug with her feet; or Jones might touch it; or whether thepin ornail gave way of its own accordI am not certain; but as Mollypronouncedthose last wordswhich are recorded abovethe wickedrug gotloose from its fasteningand discovered everything hid behindit; whereamong other female utensils appeared- (with shame I writeitandwith sorrow will it be read)- the philosopher Squarein aposture(for the place would not near admit his standing upright) asridiculousas can possibly be conceived.

  Thepostureindeedin which he stoodwas not greatly unlikethat of asoldier who is tied neck and heels; or rather resembling theattitudein which we often see fellows in the public streets ofLondonwho are not suffering but deserving punishment by so standing.He had anightcap belonging to Molly on his headand his two largeeyesthemoment the rug fellstared directly at Jones; so thatwhen theidea of philosophy was added to the figure now discovereditwould havebeen very difficult for any spectator to have refrainedfromimmoderate laughter.

  Iquestion not but the surprize of the reader will be here equalto that ofJones; as the suspicions which must arise from theappearanceof this wise and grave man in such a placemay seem soinconsistentwith that character which he hathdoubtlessmaintainedhithertoin the opinion of every one.

  Butto confess the truththis inconsistency is rather imaginarythan real.Philosophers are composed of flesh and blood as well asotherhuman creatures; and however sublimated and refined the theoryof thesemay bea little practical frailty is as incident to themas toother mortals. It isindeedin theory onlyand not inpracticeas we have before hintedthat consists the difference:for thoughsuch great beings think much better and more wiselytheyalways actexactly like other men. They know very well how to subdueallappetites and passionsand to despise both pain and pleasure; andthisknowledge affords much delightful contemplationand is easilyacquired;but the practice would be vexatious and troublesome; andthereforethe same wisdom which teaches them to know thisteachesthem toavoid carrying it into execution.

  Mr.Square happened to be at church on that Sundaywhenas thereader maybe pleased to rememberthe appearance of Molly in her sackhad causedall that disturbance. Here he first observed herand wasso pleasedwith her beautythat he prevailed with the young gentlemento changetheir intended ride that eveningthat he might pass bythehabitation of Mollyand by that means might obtain a secondchance ofseeing her. This reasonhoweveras he did not at that timemention toanyso neither did we think proper to communicate itthen tothe reader.

 Among other particulars which constituted the unfitness of things inMr.Square's opiniondanger and difficulty were two. The difficultythereforewhich he apprehended there might be in corrupting this youngwenchandthe danger which would accrue to his character on thediscoverywere such strong dissuasivesthat it is probable he atfirstintended to have contented himself with the pleasing ideas whichthe sightof beauty furnishes us with. These the gravest menaftera fullmeal of serious meditationoften allow themselves by way ofdessert:for which purposecertain books and pictures find theirway intothe most private recesses of their studyand a certainliquorishpart of natural philosophy is often the principal subject oftheirconversation.

  Butwhen the philosopher hearda day or two afterwardsthat thefortressof virtue had already been subduedhe began to give a largerscope tohis desires. His appetite was not of that squeamish kindwhichcannot feed on a dainty because another hath tasted it. Inshortheliked the girl the better for the want of that chastitywhichifshe had possessed itmust have been a bar to his pleasures;he pursuedand obtained her.

  Thereader will be mistakenif he thinks Molly gave Square thepreferenceto her younger lover: on the contraryhad she beenconfinedto the choice of one onlyTom Jones would undoubtedly havebeenofthe twothe victorious person. Nor was it solely theconsiderationthat two are better than one (though this had its properweight) towhich Mr. Square owed his success: the absence of Jonesduringhisconfinement was an unlucky circumstance; and in thatintervalsome well-chosen presents from the philosopher so softenedandunguarded the girl's heartthat a favourable opportunity becameirresistibleand Square triumphed over the poor remains of virtuewhichsubsisted in the bosom of Molly.

  Itwas now about a fortnight since this conquestwhen Jones paidtheabove-mentioned visit to his mistressat a time when she andSquarewere in bed together. This was the true reason why the motherdenied heras we have seen; for as the old woman shared in the profitsarisingfrom the iniquity of her daughtershe encouraged andprotectedher in it to the utmost of her power; but such was theenvy andhatred which the elder sister bore towards Mollythatnotwithstandingshe had some part of the bootyshe would willinglyhaveparted with this to ruin her sister and spoil her trade. Henceshe hadacquainted Jones with her being above-stairs in bedinhopes thathe might have caught her in Square's arms. ThishoweverMollyfound means to preventas the door was fastened; which gave heranopportunity of conveying her lover behind that rug or blanket wherehe now wasunhappily discovered.

 Square no sooner made his appearance than Molly flung herself backin herbedcried out she was undoneand abandoned herself todespair.This poor girlwho was yet but a novice in her businesshadnotarrived to that perfection of assurance which helps off a townlady inany extremity; and either prompts her with an excuseorelseinspires her to brazen out the matter with her husbandwhofromlove ofquietor out of fear of his reputation- and sometimesperhapsfrom fear of the gallantwholike Mr. Constant in the playwears asword- is glad to shut his eyesand content to put his hornsin hispocket. Mollyon the contrarywas silenced by thisevidenceand very fairly gave up a cause which she had hithertomaintainedwith so many tearsand with such solemn and vehementprotestationsof the purest love and constancy.

  Asto the gentleman behind the arrashe was not in much lessconsternation.He stood for a while motionlessand seemed equallyat a losswhat to sayor whither to direct his eyes. Jonesthoughperhapsthe most astonished of the threefirst found his tongue;and beingimmediately recovered from those uneasy sensations whichMolly byher upbraidings had occasioned he burst into a loud laughterand thensaluting Mr. Squareadvanced to take him by the handand torelievehim from his place of confinement.

 Square being now arrived in the middle of the roomin which partonly hecould stand uprightlooked at Jones with a very gravecountenanceand said to him"WellsirI see you enjoy thismightydiscoveryandI dare sweartake great delight in thethoughtsof exposing me; but if you will consider the matter fairlyyou willfind you are yourself only to blame. I am not guilty ofcorruptinginnocence. I have done nothing for which that part of theworldwhich judges of matters by the rule of rightwill condemn me.Fitness isgoverned by the nature of thingsand not by customsformsormunicipal laws. Nothing is indeed unfit which is notunnatural."

"Well reasonedold boy" answered Jones; "but whydostthou thinkthat I should desire to expose thee? I promise theeIwas neverbetter pleased with thee in my life; and unless thou hasta mind todiscover it thyselfthis affair may remain a profoundsecret forme."

"NayMr. Jones" replied Square"I wouldnot bethought toundervalue reputation. Good fame is a species of the Kalonand it isby no means fitting to neglect it. Besidesto murderone's ownreputation is a kind of suicidea detestable and odiousvice. Ifyou think properthereforeto conceal any infirmity of mine(for suchI may havesince no man is perfectly perfect)I promiseyou I willnot betray myself. Things may be fitting to be donewhich arenot fitting to be boasted of; for by the perverse judgmentof theworldthat often becomes the subject of censurewhich isin truthnot only innocent but laudable."

"Right!" criesJones:"whatcan be more innocent than the indulgence of a natural appetite?or whatmore laudable than the propagation of our species?"

"To beseriouswith you" answered Square"I profess they always appearedsoto me."

"And yet" said Jones"you was of a different opinionwhenmy affairwith this girl was first discovered."

"WhyI mustconfess"says Square"as the matter was misrepresented to mebythatparson ThwackumI might condemn the corruption of innocence: itwas thatsirit was that- and that-: for you must knowMr. Jonesin theconsideration of fitnessvery minute circumstancessirveryminutecircumstances cause great alteration."

"Well" criesJones"bethat as it willit shall be your own faultas I have promisedyouifyou ever hear any more of this adventure. Behave kindly to thegirlandI will never open my lips concerning the matter to anyone. AndMollydo you be faithful to your friendand I will notonlyforgive your infidelity to mebut will do you all the serviceI can."So sayinghe took a hasty leaveandslipping down theladderretired with much expedition.

 Square was rejoiced to find this adventure was likely to have noworseconclusion; and as for Mollybeing recovered from herconfusionshe began at first to upbraid Square with having been theoccasionof her loss of Jones; but that gentleman soon found the meansofmitigating her angerpartly by caressesand partly by a smallnostrumfrom his purseof wonderful and approved efficacy inpurgingoff the ill humours of the mindand in restoring it to a goodtemper.

  Shethen poured forth a vast profusion of tenderness towards her newlover;turned all she had said to Jonesand Jones himselfintoridicule;and vowedthough he once had the possession of herpersonthat none but Square had ever been master of her heart.

Chapter6
Bycomparing which with the formerthe reader may possiblycorrectsome abuse which he hath formerly been guilty of in theapplicationof the word love

  Theinfidelity of Mollywhich Jones had now discoveredwouldperhapshave vindicated a much greater degree of resentment than heexpressedon the occasion; and if he had abandoned her directly fromthatmomentvery fewI believewould have blamed him.

 Certainhoweverit isthat he saw her in the light of compassion;and thoughhis love to her was not of that kind which could give himany greatuneasiness at her inconstancyyet was he not a littleshocked onreflecting that he had himself originally corrupted herinnocence;for to this corruption he imputed all the vice into whichsheappeared now likely to plunge herself.

 This consideration gave him no little uneasinesstill Bettytheeldersisterwas so kindsome time afterwardsentirely to curehim by ahintthat one Will Barnesand not himselfhad been thefirstseducer of Molly; and that the little childwhich he hadhithertoso certainly concluded to be his ownmight very probablyhave anequal titleat leastto claim Barnes for its father.

 Jones eagerly pursued this scent when he had first received it;and in avery short time was sufficiently assured that the girl hadtold himtruthnot only by the confession of the fellowbut atlast bythat of Molly herself.

 This Will Barnes was a country gallantand had acquired as manytrophiesof this kind as any ensign or attorney's clerk in thekingdom.He hadindeedreduced several women to a state of utterprofligacyhad broke the hearts of someand had the honour ofoccasioningthe violent death of one poor girlwho had either drownedherselforwhat was rather more probablehad been drowned by him.

 Among other of his conqueststhis fellow had triumphed over theheart ofBetty Seagrim. He had made love to her long before Mollywas grownto be a fit object of that pastime; but had afterwardsdesertedherand applied to her sisterwith whom he had almostimmediatesuccess. Now Will hadin realitythe sole possession ofMolly'saffectionwhile Jones and Square were almost equallysacrificesto her interest and to her pride.

 Hence had grown that implacable hatred which we have before seenraging inthe mind of Betty; though we did not think it necessary toassignthis cause sooneras envy itself alone was adequate to all theeffects wehave mentioned.

 Jones was become perfectly easy by possession of this secret withregard toMolly; but as to Sophiahe was far from being in a state oftranquillity;nayindeedhe was under the most violent perturbation;his heartwas nowif I may use the metaphorentirely evacuatedand Sophiatook absolute possession of it. He loved her with anunboundedpassionand plainly saw the tender sentiments she had forhim; yetcould not this assurance lessen his despair of obtainingtheconsent of her fathernor the horrors which attended hispursuit ofher by any base or treacherous method.

  Theinjury which he must thus do to Mr. Westernand the concernwhichwould accrue to Mr. Allworthywere circumstances that tormentedhim alldayand haunted him on his pillow at night. His life was aconstantstruggle between honour and inclinationwhich alternatelytriumphedover each other in his mind. He often resolvedin theabsence ofSophiato leave her father's houseand to see her nomore; andas oftenin her presenceforgot all those resolutionsanddeterminedto pursue her at the hazard of his lifeand at theforfeitureof what was much dearer to him.

 This conflict began soon to produce very strong and visible effects:for helost all his usual sprightliness and gaiety of temperandbecame notonly melancholy when alonebut dejected and absent incompany;nayif ever he put on a forced mirthto comply with Mr.Western'shumourthe constraint appeared so plainthat he seemedto havebeen giving the strongest evidence of what he endeavoured toconceal bysuch ostentation.

  Itmayperhapsbe a questionwhether the art which he used toconcealhis passionor the means which honest nature employed toreveal itbetrayed him most: for while art made him more than everreservedto Sophiaand forbad him to address any of his discourseto hernayto avoid meeting her eyeswith the utmost caution;nature wasno less busy in counter-plotting him. Henceat theapproachof the young ladyhe grew pale; and if this was suddenstarted.If his eyes accidentally met hersthe blood rushed intohischeeksand his countenance became all over scarlet. If commoncivilityever obliged him to speak to heras to drink her health attablehistongue was sure to falter. If he touched herhis handnayhis wholeframetrembled. And if any discourse tendedhoweverremotelyto raise the idea of lovean involuntary sigh seldom failedto stealfrom his bosom. Most of which accidents nature waswonderfullyindustrious to throw daily in his way.

  Allthese symptoms escaped the notice of the squire: but not so ofSophia.She soon perceived these agitations of mind in Jonesandwas at noloss to discover the cause; for indeed she recognized itin her ownbreast. And this recognition isI supposethat sympathywhich hathbeen so often noted in loversand which willsufficientlyaccount for her being so much quicker-sighted than herfather.

 Butto say the truththere is a more simple and plain method ofaccountingfor that prodigious superiority of penetration which wemustobserve in some men over the rest of the human speciesand onewhich willserve not only in the case of loversbut of all others.Fromwhence is it that the knave is generally so quick-sighted tothosesymptoms and operations of knaverywhich often dupe an honestman of amuch better understanding? There surely is no generalsympathyamong knaves; nor have theylike freemasonsany common signofcommunication. In realityit is only because they have the samething intheir headsand their thoughts are turned the same way.ThusthatSophia sawand that Western did not seethe plainsymptomsof love in Jones can be no wonderwhen we consider thatthe ideaof love never entered into the head of the fatherwhereasthedaughterat presentthought of nothing else.

 When Sophia was well satisfied of the violent passion whichtormentedpoor Jonesand no less certain that she herself was itsobjectshe had not the least difficulty in discovering the true causeof hispresent behaviour. This highly endeared him to herandraised inher mind two the best affections which any lover can wish toraise in amistress- these wereesteem and pity- for sure the mostoutrageouslyrigid among her sex will excuse her pitying a man whomshe sawmiserable on her own account; nor can they blame her foresteemingone who visiblyfrom the most honourable motivesendeavouredto smother a flame in his own bosomwhichlike thefamousSpartan theftwas preying upon and consuming his veryvitals.Thus his backwardnesshis shunning herhis coldnessand hissilencewere the forwardestthe most diligentthe warmestand mosteloquentadvocates; and wrought so violently on her sensible andtenderheartthat she soon felt for him all those gentle sensationswhich areconsistent with a virtuous and elevated female mind. Inshortallwhich esteemgratitudeand pitycan inspire in suchtowards anagreeable man- indeedall which the nicest delicacy canallow. Ina wordshe was in love with him to distraction.

  Oneday this young couple accidentally met in the gardenat the endof the twowalks which were both bounded by that canal in whichJones hadformerly risqued drowning to retrieve the little bird thatSophia hadthere lost.

 This place had been of late much frequented by Sophia. Here she usedtoruminatewith a mixture of pain and pleasureon an incidentwhichhowever trifling in itselfhad possibly sown the first seedsof thataffection which was now arrived to such maturity in her heart.

 Here then this young couple met. They were almost close togetherbeforeeither of them knew anything of the other's approach. Abystanderwould have discovered sufficient marks of confusion in thecountenanceof each; but they felt too much themselves to make anyobservation.As soon as Jones had a little recovered his firstsurprizehe accosted the young lady with some of the ordinary formsofsalutationwhich she in the same manner returned; and theirconversationbeganas usualon the delicious beauty of themorning.Hence they past to the beauty of the placeon which Joneslaunchedforth very high encomiums. When they came to the treewhence hehad formerly tumbled into the canalSophia could not helpremindinghim of that accidentand said"I fancyMr. Jonesyouhave somelittle shuddering when you see that water."

"I assure youmadam"answered Jones"the concern you felt at the loss of yourlittlebird will always appear to me the highest circumstance inthatadventure. Poor little Tommy! there is the branch he stoodupon. Howcould the little wretch have the folly to fly away from thatstate ofhappiness in which I had the honour to place him? His fatewas a justpunishment for his ingratitude."

"Upon my wordMr.Jones"said she"your gallantry very narrowly escaped as severe afate. Surethe remembrance must affect you."

"Indeedmadam"answeredhe"if I have any reason to reflect with sorrow on ititisperhapsthat the water had not been a little deeperby which Imight haveescaped many bitter heart-aches that Fortune seems to havein storefor me."

"FieMr. Jones!" replied Sophia; "I amsure youcannot bein earnest now. This affected contempt of life is only anexcess ofyour complacence to me. You would endeavour to lessen theobligationof having twice ventured it for my sake. Beware the thirdtime."She spoke these last words with a smileand a softnessinexpressible.Jones answered with a sigh"He feared it was alreadytoo latefor caution:" and then looking tenderly and stedfastly onherhecried"OhMiss Western! can you desire me to live? Can youwish me soill?" Sophialooking down on the groundanswered withsomehesitation"IndeedMr. JonesI do not wish you ill."

"OhIknow toowell that heavenly temper" cries Jones"that divinegoodnesswhich is beyond every other charm."

"Naynow"answeredshe"Iunderstand you not. I can stay no longer."

"I- I would notbeunderstood!"cries he; "nayI can't be understood. I know not what Isay.Meeting you here so unexpectedlyI have been unguarded: forHeaven'ssake pardon meif I have said anything to offend you. I didnot meanit. IndeedI would rather have died- naythe very thoughtwould killme."

"You surprize me" answered she. "How canyoupossiblythink you have offended me?"

"Fearmadam" says he"easilyruns intomadness; and there is no degree of fear like that which Ifeel ofoffending you. How can I speak then? Naydon't look angrilyat me; onefrown will destroy me. I mean nothing. Blame my eyesorblamethose beauties. What am I saying? Pardon me if I have said toomuch. Myheart overflowed. I have struggled with my love to theutmostand have endeavoured to conceal a fever which preys on myvitalsand willI hopesoon make it impossible for me ever tooffend youmore."

  Mr.Jones now fell a trembling as if he had been shaken with the fitof anague. Sophiawho was in a situation not very different fromhisanswered in these words: "Mr. JonesI will not affect tomisunderstandyou; indeedI understand you too well; butforHeaven'ssakeif you have any affection for melet me make thebest of myway into the house. I wish I may be able to supportmyselfthither."

 Joneswho was hardly able to support himselfoffered her hisarmwhichshe condescended to acceptbut begged he would not mentiona wordmore to her of this nature at present. He promised he wouldnot;insisting only on her forgiveness of what lovewithout the leaveof hiswillhad forced from him: thisshe told himhe knew how toobtain byhis future behaviour; and thus this young pair totteredandtrembled alongthe lover not once daring to squeeze the hand ofhismistressthough it was locked in his.

 Sophia immediately retired to her chamberwhere Mrs. Honour and thehartshornwere summoned to her assistance. As to poor Jonestheonlyrelief to his distempered mind was an unwelcome piece of newswhichasit opens a scene of different nature from those in which thereaderhath lately been conversantwill be communicated to him in thenextchapter.

Chapter7
In whichMr. Allworthy appears on a sick-bed

  Mr.Western was become so fond of Jones that he was unwilling topart withhimthough his arm had been long since cured; and Joneseitherfrom the love of sportor from some other reasonwas easilypersuadedto continue at his housewhich he did sometimes for afortnighttogether without paying a single visit at Mr. Allworthy's;naywithout ever hearing from thence.

  Mr.Allworthy had been for some days indisposed with a coldwhichhad beenattended with a little fever. This he hadhoweverneglected;as it was usual with him to do all manner of disorderswhich didnot confine him to his bedor prevent his several facultiesfromperforming their ordinary functions;- a conduct which we wouldby nomeans be thought to approve or recommend to imitation; forsurely thegentlemen of the Esculapian art are in the right inadvisingthat the moment the disease has entered at one doorthephysicianshould be introduced at the other: what else is meant bythat oldadageVenienti occurrite morbo? "Oppose a distemper at itsfirstapproach." Thus the doctor and the disease meet in fair andequalconflict; whereasby giving time to the latterwe often sufferhim tofortify and entrench himselflike a French army; so that thelearnedgentleman finds it very difficultand sometimes impossibleto come atthe enemy. Naysometimes by gaining time the diseaseapplies tothe French military politicsand corrupts nature over tohis sideand then all the powers of physic must arrive too late.Agreeableto these observations wasI rememberthe complaint ofthe greatDoctor Misaubinwho used very pathetically to lament thelateapplications which were made to his skillsaying"Bygarmebelieve mypation take me for de undertakerfor dey never send for metill dephysicion have kill dem."

  Mr.Allworthy's distemperby means of this neglectgained suchgroundthatwhen the increase of his fever obliged him to send forassistancethe doctor at his first arrival shook his headwishedhe hadbeen sent for soonerand intimated that he thought him in veryimminentdanger. Mr. Allworthywho had settled all his affairs inthisworldand was as well prepared as it is possible for humannature tobe for the otherreceived this information with theutmostcalmness and unconcern. He couldindeedwhenever he laidhimselfdown to restsay with Cato in the tragical poem-

    Let guilt or fear
    Disturb man's rest: Cato knows neither of them;
    Indifferent in his choice to sleep or die.

Inrealityhe could say this with ten times more reason andconfidencethan Catoor any other proud fellow among the antient ormodernheroes; for he was not only devoid of fearbut might beconsideredas a faithful labourerwhen at the end of harvest he issummonedto receive his reward at the hands of a bountiful master.

  Thegood man gave immediate orders for all his family to be summonedround him.None of these were then abroadbut Mrs. Blifilwho hadbeen sometime in Londonand Mr. Joneswhom the reader hath justpartedfrom at Mr. Western'sand who received this summons just asSophia hadleft him.

  Thenews of Mr. Allworthy's danger (for the servant told him hewas dying)drove all thoughts of love out of his head. He hurriedinstantlyinto the chariot which was sent for himand ordered thecoachmanto drive with all imaginable haste; nor did the idea ofSophiaIbelieveonce occur to him on the way.

  Andnow the whole familynamelyMr. BlifilMr. JonesMr.ThwackumMr. Squareand some of the servants (for such were Mr.Allworthy'sorders)being all assembled round his bedthe good mansat up initand was beginning to speakwhen Blifil fell toblubberingand began to express very loud and bitter lamentations.Upon thisMr. Allworthy shook him by the handand said"Do notsorrowthusmy dear nephewat the most ordinary of all humanoccurrences.When misfortunes befal our friends we are justly grieved;for thoseare accidents which might often have been avoidedand whichmay seemto render the lot of one man more peculiarly unhappy thanthat ofothers; but death is certainly unavoidableand is that commonlot inwhich alone the fortunes of all men agree: nor is the time whenthishappens to us very material. If the wisest of men hath comparedlife to aspansurely we may be allowed to consider it as a day. Itis my fateto leave it in the evening; but those who are taken awayearlierhave only lost a few hoursat the best little worthlamentingand much oftener hours of labour and fatigueof pain andsorrow.One of the Roman poetsI rememberlikens our leaving life toourdeparture from a feast;- a thought which hath often occurred tome when Ihave seen men struggling to protract an entertainmentandto enjoythe company of their friends a few moments longer. Alas!how shortis the most protracted of such enjoyments! how immaterialthedifference between him who retires the soonestand him whostays thelatest! This is seeing life in the best viewand thisunwillingnessto quit our friends is the most amiable motive fromwhich wecan derive the fear of death; and yet the longest enjoymentwhich wecan hope for of this kind is of so trivial a durationthatit is to awise man truly contemptible. Few menI ownthink inthismanner; forindeedfew men think of death till they are inits jaws.However gigantic and terrible in object this may appear whenitapproaches themthey are nevertheless incapable of seeing it atanydistance; naythough they have been ever so much alarmed andfrightenedwhen they have apprehended themselves in danger of dyingthey areno sooner cleared from this apprehension than even thefears ofit are erased from their minds. Butalas! he who escapesfrom deathis not pardoned; he isonly reprievedand reprieved toa shortday.

 "Grievethereforeno moremy dear childon this occasion: aneventwhich may happen every hour; which every elementnayalmosteveryparticle of matter that surrounds us is capable of producingand whichmust and will most unavoidably reach us all at lastoughtneither tooccasion our surprize nor our lamentation.

  "Myphysician having acquainted me (which I take very kindly of him)that I amin danger of leaving you all very shortlyI have determinedto say afew words to you at this our partingbefore my distemperwhich Ifind grows very fast upon meputs it out of my power.

 "But I shall waste my strength too much. I intended to speakconcerningmy willwhichthough I have settled long agoI thinkproper tomention such heads of it as concern any of youthat I mayhave thecomfort of perceiving you are all satisfied with theprovisionI have there made for you.

 "Nephew BlifilI leave you the heir to my whole estateexceptonlyL500a-yearwhich is to revert to you after the death of your motherand exceptone other estate of L500 a-yearand the sum of L6000which Ihave bestowed in the following manner:

 "The estate of L500 a-year I have given to youMr. Jones: andasI know theinconvenience which attends the want of ready moneyI haveaddedL1000 in specie. In this I know not whether I have exceeded orfallenshort of your expectation. Perhaps you will think I havegiven youtoo littleand the world will be as ready to condemn me forgiving youtoo much; but the latter censure I despise; and as to theformerunless you should entertain that common error which I haveoftenheard in my life pleaded as an excuse for a total want ofcharitynamelythat instead of raising gratitude by voluntary actsof bountywe are apt to raise demandswhich of all others are themostboundless and most difficult to satisfy.- Pardon me the baremention ofthis; I will not suspect any such thing."

 Jones flung himself at his benefactor's feetand taking eagerlyhold ofhis handassured him his goodness to himboth now and allothertimeshad so infinitely exceeded not only his merit but hishopesthat no words could express his sense of it. "And I assure yousir"said he"your present generosity hath left me no otherconcernthan for the present melancholy occasion. Ohmy friendmyfather!"Here his words choaked himand he turned away to hide a tearwhich wasstarting from his eyes.

 Allworthy then gently squeezed his handand proceeded thus: "Iamconvincedmy childthat you have much goodnessgenerosityandhonourinyour temper: if you will add prudence and religion totheseyoumust be happy; for the three former qualitiesI admitmake youworthy of happinessbut they are the latter only whichwill putyou in possession of it.

 "One thousand pound I have given to youMr. Thwackum; a sum Iamconvincedwhich greatly exceeds your desiresas well as your wants.Howeveryou will receive it as a memorial of my friendship; andwhateversuperfluities may redound to youthat piety which you sorigidlymaintain will instruct you how to dispose of them.

  "Alike sumMr. SquareI have bequeathed to you. This. I hopewillenable you to pursue your profession with better success thanhitherto.I have often observed with concernthat distress is moreapt toexcite contempt than commiserationespecially among men ofbusinesswith whom poverty is understood to indicate want of ability.But thelittle I have been able to leave you will extricate you fromthosedifficulties with which you have formerly struggled; and thenI doubtnot but you will meet with sufficient prosperity to supplywhat a manof your philosophical temper will require.

  "Ifind myself growing faintso I shall refer you to my will for mydispositionof the residue. My servants will there find some tokens torememberme by; and there are a few charities whichI trustmyexecutorswill see faithfully performed. Bless you all. I am settingout alittle before you.-

 "Here a footman came hastily into the roomand said there wasanattorneyfrom Salisbury who had a particular messagewhich he said hemustcommunicate to Mr. Allworthy himself: that he seemed in a violenthurryandprotested he had so much business to dothatif hecould cuthimself into four quartersall would not be sufficient.

 "Gochild" said Allworthy to Blifil"see what thegentlemanwants. Iam not able to do any business nownor can he have anywith mein which you are not at present more concerned than myself.BesidesIreally am- I am incapable of seeing any one at presentorof anylonger attention." He then saluted them allsayingperhaps heshould beable to see them againbut he should be now glad to composehimself alittlefinding that he had too much exhausted his spiritsindiscourse.

 Some of the company shed tears at their parting; and even thephilosopherSquare wiped his eyesalbeit unused to the meltingmood. Asto Mrs. Wilkinsshe dropt her pearls as fast as theArabiantrees their medicinal gums; for this was a ceremonial whichthatgentlewoman never omitted on a proper occasion.

 After this Mr. Allworthy again laid himself down on his pillowandendeavoured to compose himself to rest.

Chapter8
Containingmatter rather natural than pleasing

 Besides grief for her masterthere was another source for thatbrinystream which so plentifully rose above the two mountainouscheek-bonesof the housekeeper. She was no sooner retiredthan shebegan tomutter to herself in the following pleasant strain: "Suremastermight have made some differencemethinksbetween me and theotherservants. I suppose he hath left me mourning; buti'fackins! ifthat beallthe devil shall wear it for himfor me. I'd have hisworshipknow I am no beggar. I have saved five hundred pound in hisserviceand after all to be used in this manner.- It is a fineencouragementto servants to be honest; and to be sureif I havetaken alittle something now and thenothers have taken ten timesas much;and now we are all put in a lump together. If so be that itbe sothelegacy may go to the devil with him that gave it. NoIwon't giveit up neitherbecause that will please some folks. NoI'll buythe gayest gown I can getand dance over the oldcurmudgeon'sgrave in it. This is my reward for taking his part sooftenwhen all the country have cried shame of himfor breeding uphisbastard in that manner; but he is going now where he must payfor all.It would have become him better to have repented of hissins onhis deathbedthan to glory in themand give away hisestate outof his own family to a misbegotten child. Found in his bedforsooth!a pretty story! ayaythat hide know where to find. Lordforgivehim! I warrant he hath many more bastards to answer forifthe truthwas known. One comfort isthey will all be known where heis a goingnow.- 'The servants will find some token to remember meby.' Thosewere the very words; I shall never forget themif I was tolive athousand years. AyayI shall remember you for huddling meamong theservants. One would have thought he might have mentioned myname aswell as that of Square; but he is a gentleman forsooththoughhe had notclothes on his back when he came hither first. Marry comeup withsuch gentlemen! though he hath lived here this many yearsIdon'tbelieve there is arrow a servant in the house ever saw thecolour ofhis money. The devil shall wait upon such a gentleman forme."Much more of the like kind she muttered to herself; but thistasteshall suffice to the reader.

 Neither Thwackum nor Square were much better satisfied with theirlegacies.Though they breathed not their resentment so loudyetfrom thediscontent which appeared in their countenancesas well asfrom thefollowing dialoguewe collect that no great pleasure reignedin theirminds.

 About an hour after they had left the sickroomSquare metThwackumin the hall and accosted him thus: "Wellsirhave you heardany newsof your friend since we parted from him?"

"If you mean Mr.Allworthy"answered Thwackum"I think you might rather give himtheappellation of your friend; for he seems to me to have deservedthattitle."

"The title is as good on your side" repliedSquare"forhis bountysuch as it ishath been equal to both."

"Ishouldnot havementioned it first" cries Thwackum"but since you beginImustinform you I am of a different opinion. There is a widedistinctionbetween voluntary favours and rewards. The duty I havedone inthis familyand the care I have taken in the education of histwo boysare services for which some men might have expected agreaterreturn. I would not have you imagine I am thereforedissatisfied;for St. Paul hath taught me to be content with thelittle Ihave. Had the modicum been lessI should have known my duty.But thoughthe Scriptures obliges me to remain contentedit doth notenjoin meto shut my eyes to my own meritnor restrain me from seeingwhen I aminjured by an unjust comparison."

"Since you provoke me"returnedSquare"that injury is done to me; nor did I ever imagineMr.Allworthy had held my friendship so lightas to put me in balancewith onewho received his wages. I know to what it is owing; itproceedsfrom those narrow principles which you have been so longendeavouringto infuse into himin contempt of everything which isgreat andnoble. The beauty and loveliness of friendship is too strongfor dimeyesnor can it be perceived by any other medium than thatunerringrule of rightwhich you have so often endeavoured toridiculethat you have perverted your friend's understanding."

"Iwish"cries Thwackumin a rage"I wishfor the sake of his soulyourdamnable doctrines have not perverted his faith. It is to thisI imputehis present behaviourso unbecoming a Christian. Who butan atheistcould think of leaving the world without having firstmade uphis account? without confessing his sinsand receiving thatabsolutionwhich he knew he had one in the house duly authorized togive him?He will feel the want of these necessaries when it is toolatewhenhe is arrived at that place where there is wailing andgnashingof teeth. It is then he will find in what mighty stead thatheathengoddessthat virtuewhich you and all other deists of theage adorewill stand him. He will then summon his priestwhenthere isnone to be foundand will lament the want of thatabsolutionwithout which no sinner can be safe."

"If it be somaterial"says Square"why don't you present it him of your ownaccord?"

"It hath no virtue" cries Thwackum"but to those whohavesufficientgrace to require it. But why do I talk thus to a heathenand anunbeliever? It is you that taught him this lessonfor whichyou havebeen well rewarded in this worldas I doubt not yourdisciplewill soon be in the other."

"I know not what you mean byreward"said Square; "but if you hint at that pitiful memorial of ourfriendshipwhich he hath thought fit to bequeath meI despise it;andnothing but the unfortunate situation of my circumstances shouldprevail onme to accept it."

  Thephysician now arrivedand began to inquire of the twodisputantshow we all did above-stairs? "In a miserable way"answeredThwackum. "It is no more than I expected" cries thedoctor:"but pray what symptoms have appeared since I left you?"

"Nogood onesI am afraid" replied Thwackum: "after what past at ourdepartureI think there were little hopes." The bodily physicianperhapsmisunderstood the curer of souls; and before they came toanexplanationMr. Blifil came to them with a most melancholycountenanceand acquainted them that he brought sad newsthat hismother wasdead at Salisbury; that she had been seized on the roadhome withthe gout in her head and stomachwhich had carried heroff in afew hours. "Good-lack-a-day!" says the doctor. "Onecannotanswer forevents; but I wish I had been at handto have beencalled in.The gout is a distemper which it is difficult to treat; yetI havebeen remarkably successful in it." Thwackum and Square bothcondoledwith Mr. Blifil for the loss of his motherwhich the oneadvisedhim to bear like a manand the other like a Christian. Theyounggentleman said he knew very well we were all mortaland hewouldendeavour to submit to his loss as well as he could. That hecould nothoweverhelp complaining a little against the peculiarseverityof his fatewhich brought the news of so great a calamity tohim bysurprizeand that at a time when he hourly expected theseverestblow he was capable of feeling from the malice of fortune. Hesaidthepresent occasion would put to the test those excellentrudimentswhich he had learnt from Mr. Thwackum and Mr. Square; and itwould beentirely owing to themif he was enabled to survive suchmisfortunes.

  Itwas now debated whether Mr. Allworthy should be informed of thedeath ofhis sister. This the doctor violently opposed; in s sister. nwhichIbelievethe whole college would agree with him: but Mr.Blifilsaidhe had received such positive and repeated orders fromhis unclenever to keep any secret from him for fear of thedisquietudewhich it might give himthat he durst not think ofdisobediencewhatever might be the consequence. He saidfor hispartconsidering the religious and philosophic temper of his unclehe couldnot agree with the doctor in his apprehensions. He wasthereforeresolved to communicate it to him: for if his unclerecovered(as he heartily prayed he might) he knew he would neverforgive anendeavour to keep a secret of this kind from him.

  Thephysician was forced to submit to these resolutionswhich thetwo otherlearned gentlemen very highly commended. So together movedMr. Blifiland the doctor toward the sickroom; where the physicianfirstenteredand approached the bedin order to feel hispatient'spulsewhich he had no sooner donethan he declared hewas muchbetter; that the last application had succeeded to a miracleand hadbrought the fever to intermit: so thathe saidthereappearednow to be as little danger as he had before apprehended therewerehopes.

  Tosay the truthMr. Allworthy's situation had never been so bad asthe greatcaution of the doctor had represented it: but as a wisegeneralnever despises his enemyhowever inferior that enemy'sforce maybeso neither doth a wise physician ever despise adistemperhowever inconsiderable. As the former preserves the samestrictdisciplineplaces the same guardsand employs the samescoutsthough the enemy be never so weak; so the latter maintains thesamegravity of countenanceand shakes his head with the samesignificantairlet the distemper be never so trifling. And bothamong manyother good onesmay assign this solid reason for theirconductthat by these means the greater glory redounds to them ifthey gainthe victoryand the less disgrace if by any unluckyaccidentthey should happen to be conquered.

  Mr.Allworthy had no sooner lifted up his eyesand thanked Heavenfor thesehopes of his recoverythan Mr. Blifil drew nearwith averydejected aspectand having applied his handkerchief to hiseyeeither to wipe away his tearsor to do as Ovid somewhereexpresseshimself on another occasion

    Si nullus erittamen excute nullum
 
    If there be nonethen wipe away that none

hecommunicated to his uncle what the reader hath been just beforeacquaintedwith.

 Allworthy received the news with concernwith patienceand withresignation.He dropt a tender tearthen composed his countenanceand atlast cried"The Lord's will be done in everything."

  Henow enquired for the messenger; but Blifil told him it had beenimpossibleto detain him a moment; for he appeared by the greathurry hewas in to have some business of importance on his hands; thathecomplained of being hurried and driven and torn out of his lifeandrepeated many timesthat if he could divide himself into fourquartershe knew how to dispose of every one.

 Allworthy then desired Blifil to take care of the funeral. Hesaidhewould have his sister deposited in his own chapel; and asto theparticularshe left them to his own discretiononlymentioningthe person whom he would have employed on this occasion.

Chapter9
Whichamong other thingsmay serve as a comment on that sayingofAEschinesthat "drunkenness shows the mind of a manas amirrourreflects his person"

  Thereader may perhaps wonder at hearing nothing of Mr. Jones in.the lastchapter. In facthis behaviour was so different from that ofthepersons there mentionedthat we chose not to confound his namewiththeirs.

 When the good man had ended his speechJones was the last whodesertedthe room. Thence he retired to his own apartmentto givevent tohis concern; but the restlessness of his mind would not sufferhim toremain long there; he slipped softly therefore to Allworthy'schamber-doorwhere he listened a considerable time without hearingany kindof motion withinunless a violent snoringwhich at last hisfearsmisrepresented as groans. This so alarmed himthat he could notforbearentering the room; where he found the good man in the bedin a sweetcomposed sleepand his nurse snoring in theabove-mentionedhearty mannerat the bed's feet. He immediatelytook theonly method of silencing this thorough basswhose music hefearedmight disturb Mr. Allworthy; and then sitting down by thenurseheremained motionless till Blifil and the doctor came intogetherand waked the sick manin order that the doctor might feelhis pulseand that the other might communicate to him that piece ofnewswhichhad Jones been apprized of itwould have had greatdifficultyof finding its way to Mr. Allworthy's ear at such a season.

 When he first heard Blifil tell his uncle this storyJones couldhardlycontain the wrath which kindled in him at the other'sindiscretionespecially as the doctor shook his headand declaredhisunwillingness to have the matter mentioned to his patient. Butas hispassion did not so far deprive him of all use of hisunderstandingas to hide from him the consequences which anyviolentexpression towards Blifil might have on the sickthisapprehensionstilled his rage at the present; and he grew afterwardssosatisfied with finding that this news hadin factproduced nomischiefthat he suffered his anger to die in his own bosomwithoutever mentioning it to Blifil.

  Thephysician dined that day at Mr. Allworthy's; and having afterdinnervisited his patienthe returned to the companyand told themthat hehad now the satisfaction to saywith assurancethat hispatientwas out of all danger: that he had brought his fever to aperfectintermissionand doubted not by throwing in the bark topreventits return.

 This account so pleased Jonesand threw him into such immoderateexcess ofrapturethat he might be truly said to be drunk with joy-anintoxication which greatly forwards the effects of wine; and as hewas veryfree too with the bottle on this occasion (for he drank manybumpers tothe doctor's healthas well as to other toast% he becamevery soonliterally drunk.

 Jones had naturally violent animal spirits: these being set on floatandaugmented by the spirit of wineproduced most extravaganteffects.He kissed the doctorand embraced him with the mostpassionateendearments; swearing that next to Mr. Allworthy himselfhe lovedhim of all men living. "Doctor" added he"youdeserve astatue tobe erected to you at the public expensefor havingpreserveda manwho is not only the darling of all good men whoknow himbut a blessing to societythe glory of his countryandan honourto human nature. D--n me if I don't love him better than myown soul."

 "More shame for you" cries Thwackum. "Though I thinkyou havereason tolove himfor he hath provided very well for you. Andperhaps itmight have been better for some folks that he had not livedto seejust reason of revoking his gift."

 Jones now looking on Thwackum with inconceivable disdainanswered"And doth thy mean soul imagine that any such considerationscouldweigh with me? Nolet the earth open and swallow her own dirt(if I hadmillions of acres I would say it) rather than swallow upmy dearglorious friend."

    Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus
    Tam chari capitis? 

  Thedoctor now interposedand prevented the effects of a wrathwhich waskindling between Jones and Thwackum; after which theformergave a loose to mirthsang two or three amorous songsandfell intoevery frantic disorder which unbridled joy is apt toinspire;but so far was he from any disposition to quarrelthat hewas tentimes better humouredif possiblethan when he was sober.

  Tosay truthnothing is more erroneous than the common observationthat menwho are ill-natured and quarrelsome when they are drunkare veryworthy persons when they are sober: for drinkin realitydoth notreverse natureor create passions in men which did not existin thembefore. It takes away the guard of reasonand consequentlyforces usto produce those symptomswhich manywhen soberhaveart enoughto conceal. It heightens and inflames our passions(generallyindeed that passion which is uppermost in our mind)sothat theangry temperthe amorousthe generousthe good-humouredtheavariciousand all other dispositions of menare in their cupsheightenedand exposed.

  Andyet as no nation produces so many drunken quarrelsespeciallyamong thelower peopleas England (for indeedwith themto drinkand tofight together are almost synonymous terms)I would notmethinkshave it thence concludedthat the English are theworst-naturedpeople alive. Perhaps the love of glory only is at thebottom ofthis; so that the fair conclusion seems to bethat ourcountrymenhave more of that loveand more of braverythan any otherplebeians.And this the ratheras there is seldom anythingungenerousunfairor ill-naturedexercised on these occasions: nayit iscommon for the combatants to express good-will for each othereven atthe time of the conflict; and as their drunken mirth generallyends in abattleso do most of their battles end in friendship.

  Butto return to our history. Though Jones had shown no design ofgivingoffenceyet Mr. Blifil was highly offended at a behaviourwhich wasso inconsistent with the sober and prudent reserve of hisowntemper. He bore it too with the greater impatienceas it appearedto himvery indecent at this season; "When" as he said"thehousewas ahouse of mourningon the account of his dear mother; and ifit hadpleased Heaven to give him some prospect of Mr. Allworthy'srecoveryit would become them better to express the exultations oftheirhearts in thanksgivingthan in drunkenness and riots; whichwereproperer methods to encrease the Divine wraththan to avert it."Thwackumwho had swallowed more liquor than Jonesbut without anyill effecton his brainseconded the pious harangue of Blifil; butSquarefor reasons which the reader may probably guesswas totallysilent.

  Winehad not so totally overpowered Jonesas to prevent hisrecollectingMr. Blifil's lossthe moment it was mentioned. As nopersonthereforewas more ready to confess and condemn his ownerrorsheoffered to shake Mr. Blifil by the handand begged hispardonsaying"His excessive joy for Mr. Allworthy's recovery haddrivenevery other thought out of his mind."

 Blifil scornfully rejected his hand; and with much indignationanswered"It was little to be wondered atif tragical spectaclesmade noimpression on the blind; butfor his parthe had themisfortuneto know who his parents wereand consequently must beaffectedwith their loss."

 Joneswhonotwithstanding his good humourhad some mixture of theirasciblein his constitutionleaped hastily from his chairandcatchinghold of Blifil's collarcried out"D--n you for a rascaldo youinsult me with the misfortune of my birth?" He accompaniedthesewords with such rough actionsthat they soon got the better ofMr.Blifil's peaceful temper; and a scuffle immediately ensuedwhichmight haveproduced mischiefhad it not been prevented by theinterpositionof Thwackum and the physician; for the philosophy ofSquarerendered him superior to all emotionsand he very calmlysmoakedhis pipeas was his custom in all broilsunless when heapprehendedsome danger of having it broke in his mouth.

  Thecombatants being now prevented from executing presentvengeanceon each otherbetook themselves to the common resourcesofdisappointed rageand vented their wrath in threats anddefiance.In this kind of conflictFortunewhichin the personalattackseemed to incline to Joneswas now altogether as favourableto hisenemy.

  Atruceneverthelesswas at length agreed onby the mediationof theneutral partiesand the whole company again sat down at thetable;where Jones being prevailed on to ask pardonand Blifil togive itpeace was restoredand everything seemed in statu quo.

  Butthough the quarrel wasin all appearanceperfectly reconciledthe goodhumour which had been interrupted by itwas by no meansrestored.All merriment was now at an endand the subsequentdiscourseconsisted only of grave relations of matters of factand ofas graveobservations upon them; a species of conversationinwhichthough there is much of dignity and instructionthere is butlittleentertainment. As we presume therefore to convey only this lastto thereaderwe shall pass by whatever was saidtill the rest ofthecompany having by degrees dropped offleft only Square and thephysiciantogether; at which time the conversation was a littleheightenedby some comments on what had happened between the two younggentlemen;both of whom the doctor declared to be no better thanscoundrels;to which appellation the philosophervery sagaciouslyshakinghis headagreed.

Chapter10
Showingthe truth of many observations of Ovidand of other moregravewriterswho have proved beyond contradictionthat wine isoften theforerunner of incontinency

 Jones retired from the companyin which we have seen him engagedinto thefieldswhere he intended to cool himself by a walk in theopen airbefore he attended Mr. Allworthy. Therewhilst he renewedthosemeditations on his dear Sophiawhich the dangerous illness ofhis friendand benefactor had for some time interruptedan accidenthappenedwhich with sorrow we relateand with sorrow doubtlesswill it beread; howeverthat historic truth to which we profess soinviolablean attachmentobliges us to communicate it to posterity.

  Itwas now a pleasant evening in the latter end of Junewhen ourheroe waswalking in a most delicious grovewhere the gentlebreezesfanning the leavestogether with the sweet trilling of amurmuringstreamand the melodious notes of nightingalesformedaltogetherthe most enchanting harmony. In this sceneso sweetlyaccommodatedto lovehe meditated on his dear Sophia. While hiswantonfancy roamed unbounded over all her beautiesand his livelyimaginationpainted the charming maid in various ravishing formshis warmheart melted with tenderness; and at lengththrowing himselfon thegroundby the side of a gently murmuring brookhe broke forthinto thefollowing ejaculation:

  "OSophiawould Heaven give thee to my armshow blest would bemycondition! Curst be that fortune which sets a distance betweenus. Was Ibut possessed of theeone only suit of rags thy wholeestateisthere a man on earth whom I would envy! How contemptiblewould thebrightest Circassian beautydrest in all the jewels oftheIndiesappear to my eyes! But why do I mention another woman?Could Ithink my eyes capable of looking at any other with tendernessthesehands should tear them from my head. Nomy Sophiaif cruelfortuneseparates us for evermy soul shall doat on thee alone. Thechastestconstancy will I ever preserve to thy image. Though Ishouldnever have possession of thy charming personstill shaltthou alonehave possession of my thoughtsmy lovemy soul. Oh! myfond heartis so wrapt in that tender bosomthat the brightestbeautieswould for me have no charmsnor would a hermit be colderin theirembraces. SophiaSophia alone shall be mine. What rapturesare inthat name! I will engrave it on every tree."

  Atthese words he started upand beheld- not his Sophia- nonor aCircassianmaid richly and elegantly attired for the grand Signior'sseraglio.No; without a gownin a shift that was somewhat of thecoarsestand none of the cleanestbedewed likewise with someodoriferouseffluviathe produce of the day's labourwith apitchforkin her handMolly Seagrim approached. Our hero had hispenknifein his handwhich he had drawn for the before-mentionedpurpose ofcarving on the bark; when the girl coming near himcryedout with asmile"You don't intend to kill mesquireIhope!"

"Why should you think I would kill you?" answered Jones."Nay"replied she"after your cruel usage of me when I saw you lastkilling mewouldperhapsbe too great kindness for me to expect."

 Here ensued a parleywhichas I do not think myself obliged torelate itI shall omit. It is sufficient that it lasted a fullquarter ofan hourat the conclusion of which they retired into thethickestpart of the grove.

 Some of my readers may be inclined to think this event unnatural.Howeverthe fact is true; and perhaps may be sufficiently accountedfor bysuggestingthat Jones probably thought one woman better thannoneandMolly as probably imagined two men to be better than one.Besidesthe before-mentioned motive assigned to the presentbehaviourof Jonesthe reader will be likewise pleased to recollectin hisfavourthat he was not at this time perfect master of thatwonderfulpower of reasonwhich so well enables grave and wise men tosubduetheir unruly passionsand to decline any of these prohibitedamusements.Wine now had totally subdued this power in Jones. Hewasindeedin a conditionin whichif reason had interposedthoughonly to adviseshe might have received the answer which oneCleostratusgave many years ago to a silly fellowwho asked himifhe was notashamed to be drunk? "Are not you" said Cleostratus"ashamedto admonish a drunken man?"- To say the truthin a court ofjusticedrunkenness must not be an excuseyet in a court ofconscienceit is greatly so; and therefore Aristotlewho commends thelaws ofPittacusby which drunken men received double punishmentfor theircrimesallows there is more of policy than justice inthat law.Nowif there are any transgressions pardonable fromdrunkennessthey are certainly such as Mr. Jones was at presentguilty of;on which head I could pour forth a vast profusion oflearningif I imagined it would either entertain my readerorteach himanything more than he knows already. For his sakethereforeI shall keep my learning to myselfand return to myhistory.

  Ithath been observedthat Fortune seldom doth things by halves. Tosay truththere is no end to her freaks whenever she is disposed togratify ordisplease. No sooner had our heroe retired with his Didobut

    Speluncam Blifil dux et divinus eandem
    Deveniunt-

the parsonand the young squirewho were taking a serious walkarrived atthe stile which leads into the groveand the latter caughta view ofthe lovers just as they were sinking out of sight.

 Blifil knew Jones very wellthough he was at above a hundred yards'distanceand he was as positive to the sex of his companionthoughnot to theindividual person. He startedblessed himselfand uttereda verysolemn ejaculation.

 Thwackum expressed some surprize at these sudden emotionsand askedthe reasonof them. To which Blifil answered"He was certain he hadseen afellow and wench retire together among the busheswhich hedoubtednot was with some wicked purpose." As to the name of Joneshethoughtproper to conceal itand why he did so must be left to thejudgmentof the sagacious reader; for we never chuse to assign motivesto theactions of menwhen there is any possibility of our beingmistaken.

  Theparsonwho was not only strictly chaste in his own personbut agreat enemy to the opposite vice in all othersfired at thisinformation.He desired Mr. Blifil to conduct him immediately to theplacewhich as he approached he breathed forth vengeance mixed withlamentations;nor did he refrain from casting some oblique reflectionson Mr.Allworthy; insinuating that the wickedness of the country wasprincipallyowing to the encouragement he had given to viceby havingexertedsuch kindness to a bastardand by having mitigated thatjust andwholesome rigour of the law which allots a very severepunishmentto loose wenches.

  Theway through which our hunters were to pass in pursuit of theirgame wasso beset with briarsthat it greatly obstructed theirwalkandcaused besides such a rustlingthat Jones had sufficientwarning oftheir arrival before they could surprize him; nayindeedsoincapable was Thwackum of concealing his indignationandsuchvengeance did he utter forth every step he tookthat thisalone musthave abundantly satisfied Jones that he was (to use thelanguageof sportsmen) found sitting.

Chapter11
In which asimile in Mr. Pope's period of a mile introduces asbloody abattle as can possibly be fought without the assistance ofsteel orcold iron

  Asin the season of rutting (an uncouth phraseby which thevulgardenote that gentle dalliancewhich in the well-woodedforest ofHampshirepasses between lovers of the ferine kind)ifwhile thelofty-crested stag meditates the amorous sporta coupleofpuppiesor any other beasts of hostile noteshould wander so nearthe templeof Venus Ferina that the fair hind should shrink from theplacetouched with that somewhateither of fear or frolicof nicetyorskittishnesswith which nature hath bedecked all femalesorhath atleast instructed them how to put it on; lestthrough theindelicacyof malesthe Samean mysteries should be pryed into byunhallowedeyes: forat the celebration of these ritesthe femalepriestesscries out with her in Virgil (who was thenprobablyhardat work onsuch celebration)

    --Proculo procul esteprofani;
    Proclamat vatestotoque absistite luco.
 
    --Far hence be souls profane
    The sibyl cry'dand from the grove abstain.

                                      DRYDEN

IfI saywhile these sacred riteswhich are in common to genus omneanimantiumare in agitation between the stag and his mistressanyhostilebeasts should venture too nearon the first hint given by thefrightedhindfierce and tremendous rushes forth the stag to theentranceof the thicket; there stands he sentinel over his lovestamps theground with his footand with his horns brandished aloftin airproudly provokes the apprehended foe to combat.

 Thusand more terriblewhen he perceived the enemy's approachleapedforth our heroe. Many a step advanced he forwardsin orderto concealthe trembling hindandif possibleto secure herretreat.And now Thwackumhaving first darted some livid lightningfrom hisfiery eyesbegan to thunder forth"Fie upon it! Fie uponit! Mr.Jones. Is it possible you should be the person?"

"Yousee"answeredJones"it is possible I should be here."

"And who"saidThwackum"is that wicked slut with you?"

"If I have any wickedslutwith me"cries Jones"it is possible I shall not let you know whoshe is."

"I command you to tell me immediately" says Thwackum: "andI wouldnot have you imagineyoung manthat your agethough it hathsomewhatabridged the purpose of tuitionhath totally taken awaytheauthority of the master. The relation of the master and scholar isindelible;asindeedall other relations are; for they all derivetheiroriginal from heaven. I would have you think yourselfthereforeas much obliged to obey me nowas when I taught you yourfirstrudiments."

"I believe you would" cries Jones; "butthat willnothappenunless you had the same birchen argument to convinceme."

"Then I must tell you plainly" said Thwackum"I amresolvedtodiscover the wicked wretch."

"And I must tell youplainly"returnedJones"I am resolved you shall not." Thwackum then offeredtoadvanceand Jones laid hold of his arms; which Mr. Blifilendeavouredto rescuedeclaring"he would not see his old masterinsulted."

 Jones now finding himself engaged with twothought it necessaryto ridhimself of one of his antagonists as soon as possible. Hethereforeapplied to the weakest first; andletting the parson gohedirected ablow at the young squire's breastwhich luckily takingplacereduced him to measure his length on the ground.

 Thwackum was so intent on the discoverythatthe moment he foundhimself atlibertyhe stept forward directly into the fernwithoutany greatconsideration of what might in the meantime befal hisfriend;but he had advanced a very few paces into the thicketbeforeJoneshaving defeated Blifilovertook the parsonand draggedhimbackward by the skirt of his coat.

 This parson had been a champion in his youthand had won muchhonour byhis fistboth at school and at the university. He had nowindeedfor a great number of yearsdeclined the practice of thatnoble art;yet was his courage full as strong as his faithand hisbody noless strong than either. He was moreoveras the reader mayperhapshave conceivedsomewhat irascible in his nature. When helookedbackthereforeand saw his friend stretched out on thegroundand found himself at the same time so roughly handled by onewho hadformerly been only passive in all conflicts between them (acircumstancewhich highly aggravated the whole)his patience atlengthgave way; he threw himself into a posture of offence; andcollectingall his forceattacked Jones in the front with as muchimpetuosityas he had formerly attacked him in the rear.

  Ourheroe received the enemy's attack with the most undauntedintrepidityand his bosom resounded with the blow. This hepresentlyreturned with no less violenceaiming likewise at theparson'sbreast; but he dexterously drove down the fist of Jonessothat itreached only his bellywhere two pounds of beef and as manyof puddingwere then depositedand whence consequently no hollowsoundcould proceed. Many lusty blowsmuch more pleasant as well aseasy tohave seenthan to read or describewere given on both sides:at last aviolent fallin which Jones had thrown his knees intoThwackum'sbreastso weakened the latterthat victory had been nolongerdubioushad not Blifilwho had now recovered his strengthagainrenewed the fightand by engaging with Jonesgiven theparson amoment's time to shake his earsand to regain his breath.

  Andnow both together attacked our heroewhose blows did not retainthat forcewith which they had fallen at firstso weakened was heby hiscombat with Thwackum; for though the pedagogue chose ratherto playsolos on the human instrumentand had been lately used tothoseonlyyet he still retained enough of his antient knowledge toperformhis part very well in a duet.

  Thevictoryaccording to modern customwas like to be decided bynumberswhenon a suddena fourth pair of fists appeared in thebattleand immediately paid their compliments to the parson; andthe ownerof them at the same time crying out"Are not you ashamedand bed--n'd to youto fall two of you upon one?"

  Thebattlewhich was of the kind that for distinction's sake iscalledroyalnow raged with the utmost violence during a few minutes;tillBlifil being a second time laid sprawling by JonesThwackumcondescendedto apply for quarter to his new antagonistwho was nowfound tobe Mr. Western himself; for in the heat of the action none ofthecombatants had recognized him.

  Infactthat honest squirehappeningin his afternoon's walk withsomecompanyto pass through the field where the bloody battle wasfoughtand having concludedfrom seeing three men engagedthattwo ofthem must be on a sidehe hastened from his companionsandwith moregallantry than policyespoused the cause of the weakerparty. Bywhich generous proceeding he very probably prevented Mr.Jones frombecoming a victim to the wrath of Thwackumand to thepiousfriendship which Blifil bore his old master; forbesides thedisadvantageof such oddsJones had not yet sufficiently recoveredthe formerstrength of his broken arm. This reinforcementhoweversoon putan end to the actionand Jones with his ally obtained thevictory.

Chapter12
In whichis seen a more moving spectacle than all the blood in thebodies ofThwackum and Blifiland of twenty other suchis capable ofproducing

  Therest of Mr. Western's company were now come upbeing just attheinstant when the action was over. These were the honest clergymanwhom wehave formerly seen at Mr. Western's table; Mrs. Westerntheaunt ofSophia; and lastlythe lovely Sophia herself.

  Atthis timethe following was the aspect of the bloody field. Inone placelay on the groundall paleand almost breathlessthevanquishedBlifil. Near him stood the conqueror Jonesalmostcoveredwith bloodpart of which was naturally his ownand parthad beenlately the property of the Reverend Mr. Thwackum. In athirdplace stood the said Thwackumlike King Porussullenlysubmittingto the conqueror. The last figure in the piece wasWesternthe Greatmost gloriously forbearing the vanquished foe.

 Blifilin whom there was little sign of lifewas at first theprincipalobject of the concern of every oneand particularly of Mrs.Westernwho had drawn from her pocket a bottle of hartshornandwasherself about to apply it to his nostrilswhen on a sudden theattentionof the whole company was diverted from poor Blifilwhosespiritifit had any such designmight have now taken an opportunityofstealing off to the other worldwithout any ceremony.

  Fornow a more melancholy and a more lovely object lay motionlessbeforethem. This was no other than the charming Sophia herselfwhofromthe sight of bloodor from fear for her fatheror fromsome otherreasonhad fallen down in a swoonbefore any one couldget to herassistance.

 Mrs. Western first saw her and screamed. Immediately two or threevoicescried out"Miss Western is dead." Hartshornwatereveryremedy wascalled foralmost at one and the same instant.

  Thereader may rememberthat in our description of this grove wementioneda murmuring brookwhich brook did not come thereas suchgentlestreams flow through vulgar romanceswith no other purposethan tomurmur. No! Fortune had decreed to ennoble this little brookwith ahigher honour than any of those which wash the plains ofArcadiaever deserved.

 Jones was rubbing Blifil's templesfor he began to fear he hadgiven hima blow too muchwhen the wordsMiss Western and Deadrushed atonce on his ear. He started upleft Blifil to his fateandflew toSophiawhomwhile all the rest were running against eachotherbackward and forwardlooking for water in the dry pathshecaught upin his armsand then ran away with her over the field totherivulet above mentioned; whereplunging himself into the waterhecontrived to besprinkle her faceheadand neck very plentifully.

 Happy was it for Sophia that the same confusion which preventedher otherfriends from serving herprevented them likewise fromobstructingJones. He had carried her half ways before they knewwhat hewas doingand he had actually restored her to life beforetheyreached the waterside. She stretched our her armsopened hereyesandcried"Oh! heavens!" just as her fatherauntand theparsoncame up.

 Joneswho had hitherto held this lovely burthen in his armsnowrelinquishedhis hold; but gave her at the same instant a tendercaresswhichhad her senses been then perfectly restoredcouldnot haveescaped her observation. As she expressedthereforenodispleasureat this freedomwe suppose she was not sufficientlyrecoveredfrom her swoon at the time.

 This tragical scene was now converted into a sudden scene of joy. Inthis ourheroe was certainly the principal character; for as heprobablyfelt more ecstatic delight in having saved Sophia than sheherselfreceived from being savedso neither were the congratulationspaid toher equal to what were conferred on Jonesespecially by Mr.Westernhimselfwhoafter having once or twice embraced hisdaughterfell to hugging and kissing Jones. He called him thepreserverof Sophiaand declared there was nothingexcept herorhisestatewhich he would not give him; but upon recollectionheafterwardsexcepied his fox-houndsthe Chevalierand Miss Slouch(for so hecalled his favourite mare).

  Allfears for Sophia being now removedJones became the object ofthesquire's consideration.

"Comemy lad" says Western"d'off thyquoat andwash thy feace; for att in a devilish pickleI promisethee.Comecomewash thyselfand shat go huome with me; and we'lzee tovind thee another quoat."

 Jones immediately compliedthrew off his coatwent down to thewaterandwashed both his face and bosom; for the latter was asmuchexposed and as bloody as the former. But though the water couldclear offthe bloodit could not remove the black and blue markswhichThwackum had imprinted on both his face and breastand whichbeingdiscerned by Sophiadrew from her a sigh and a look full ofinexpressibletenderness.

 Jones received this full in his eyesand it had infinitely astrongereffect on him than all the contusions which he had receivedbefore. Aneffecthoweverwidely different; for so soft and balmywas itthathad all his former blows been stabsit would for someminuteshave prevented his feeling their smart.

  Thecompany now moved backwardsand soon arrived where Thwackum hadgot Mr.Blifil again on his legs. Here we cannot suppress a piouswishthatall quarrels were to be decided by those weapons onlywith whichNatureknowing what is proper for ushath supplied us;and thatcold iron was to be used in digging no bowels but those ofthe earth.Then would warthe pastime of monarchsbe almostinoffensiveand battles between great armies might be fought at theparticulardesire of several ladies of quality; whotogether with thekingsthemselvesmight be actual spectators of the conflict. Thenmight thefield be this moment well strewed with human carcassesand thenextthe dead menor infinitely the greatest part of themmight getuplike Mr. Bayes's troopsand march off either at thesound of adrum or fiddleas should be previously agreed on.

  Iwould avoidif possibletreating this matter ludicrouslylestgrave menand politicianswhom I know to be offended at a jestmaycry pishat it; butin realitymight not a battle be as well decidedby thegreater number of broken headsbloody nosesand black eyesas by thegreater heaps of mangled and murdered human bodies? Mightnot townsbe contended for in the same manner? Indeedthis may bethoughttoo detrimental a scheme to the French interestsince theywould thuslose the advantage they have over other nations in thesuperiorityof their engineers; but when I consider the gallantryandgenerosity of that peopleI am persuaded they would never declineputtingthemselves upon a par with their adversary; oras thephrase ismaking themselves his match.

  Butsuch reformations are rather to be wished than hoped for: Ishallcontent myselfthereforewith this short hintand return tomynarrative.

 Western began now to inquire into the original rise of this quarrel.To whichneither Blifil nor Jones gave any answer; but Thwackum saidsurlily"I believe the cause is not far off; if you beat the busheswell youmay find her."

"Find her?" replied Western: "what!have youbeenfighting for a wench?"

"Ask the gentleman in his waistcoatthere"said Thwackum: "he best knows."

"Nay then" criesWestern"itis a wenchcertainly.- AhTomTomthou art a liquorish dog. Butcomegentlemenbe all friendsand go home with meand make finalpeace overa bottle."

"I ask your pardonsir" says Thwackum:"itis no suchslight matter for a man of my character to be thusinjuriouslytreatedand buffeted by a boyonly because I wouldhave donemy dutyin endeavouring to detect and bring to justice awantonharlot; butindeedthe principal fault lies in Mr.Allworthyand yourself; for if you put the laws in executionas youought todoyou will soon rid the country of these vermin."

  "Iwould as soon rid the country of foxes" cries Western. "Ithink weought to encourage the recruiting those numbers which weare everyday losing in the war.- But where is she? PritheeTomshow me."He then began to beat aboutin the same language and in thesamemanner as if he had been beating for a hare; and at last criedout"Soho! Puss is not far off. Here's her formupon my soul; Ibelieve Imay cry stole away." And indeed so he might; for he hadnowdiscovered the place whence the poor girl hadat the beginning ofthe fraystolen awayupon as many feet as a hare generally uses intravelling.

 Sophia now desired her father to return home; saying she foundherselfvery faintand apprehended a relapse. The squireimmediatelycomplied with his daughter's request (for he was thefondest ofparents). He earnestly endeavoured to prevail with thewholecompany to go and sup with him: but Blifil and Thwackumabsolutelyrefused; the former sayingthere were more reasons than hecould thenmentionwhy he must decline this honour; and the latterdeclaring(perhaps rightly) that it was not proper for a person of hisfunctionto be seen at any place in his present condition.

 Jones was incapable of refusing the pleasure of being with hisSophia; soon he marched with Squire Western and his ladiestheparsonbringing up the rear. This hadindeedoffered to tarry withhisbrother Thwackumprofessing his regard for the cloth would notpermit himto depart; but Thwackum would not accept the favourandwith nogreat civilitypushed him after Mr. Western.

 Thus ended this bloody fray; and thus shall end the fifth book ofthishistory.

BOOK VICONTAININGABOUT THREE WEEKS

Chapter1
Of love

  Inour last book we have been obliged to deal pretty much with thepassion oflove; and in our succeeding book shall be forced tohandlethis subject still more largely. It may not therefore in thisplace beimproper to apply ourselves to the examination of that moderndoctrineby which certain philosophersamong many other wonderfuldiscoveriespretend to have found outthat there is no suchpassion inthe human breast.

 Whether these philosophers be the same with that surprising sectwho arehonourably mentioned by the late Dr. Swiftas havingbythe mereforce of genius alonewithout the least assistance of anykind oflearningor even readingdiscovered that profound andinvaluablesecret that there is no God; or whether they are not ratherthe samewith those who some years since very much alarmed theworldbyshowing that there were no such things as virtue or goodnessreallyexisting in human natureand who deduced our best actions fromprideIwill not here presume to determine. In realityI am inclinedtosuspectthat all these several finders of truthare the veryidenticalmen who are by others called the finders of gold. The methodused inboth these searches after truth and after goldbeing indeedone andthe sameviz.the searchingrummagingand examining into anastyplace; indeedin the former instancesinto the nastiest of allplacesABAD MIND.

  Butthough in this particularand perhaps in their successthetruth-finderand the gold-finder may very properly be comparedtogether;yet in modestysurelythere can be no comparison betweenthe two;for who ever heard of a gold-finder that had the impudence orfolly toassertfrom the ill success of his searchthat there was nosuch thingas gold in the world? whereas the truth-finderhavingraked outthat jakeshis own mindand being there capable of tracingno ray ofdivinitynor anything virtuous or goodor lovelyorlovingvery fairlyhonestlyand logically concludes that no suchthingsexist in the whole creation.

  Toavoidhoweverall contentionif possiblewith thesephilosophersif they will be called so; and to show our owndispositionto accommodate matters peaceably between uswe shall heremake themsome concessionswhich may possibly put an end to thedispute.

 Firstwe will grant that many mindsand perhaps those of thephilosophersare entirely free from the least traces of such apassion.

 Secondlythat what is commonly called lovenamelythe desire ofsatisfyinga voracious appetite with a certain quantity of delicatewhitehuman fleshis by no means that passion for which I herecontend.This is indeed more properly hunger; and as no glutton isashamed toapply the word love to his appetiteand to say he LOVESsuch andsuch dishes; so may the lover of this kindwith equalproprietysayhe HUNGERS after such and such women.

 ThirdlyI will grantwhich I believe will be a most acceptableconcessionthat this love for which I am an advocatethough itsatisfiesitself in a much more delicate mannerdoth neverthelessseek itsown satisfaction as much as the grossest of all ourappetites.

 Andlastlythat this lovewhen it operates towards one of adifferentsexis very apttowards its complete gratificationtocall inthe aid of that hunger which I have mentioned above; and whichit is sofar from abatingthat it heightens all its delights to adegreescarce imaginable by those who have never been susceptible ofany otheremotions than what have proceeded from appetite alone.

  Inreturn to all these concessionsI desire of the philosophersto grantthat there is in some (I believe in many) human breasts akind andbenevolent dispositionwhich is gratified by contributing tothehappiness of others. That in this gratification aloneas infriendshipin parental and filial affectionas indeed in generalphilanthropythere is a great and exquisite delight. That if wewill notcall such disposition lovewe have no name for it. Thatthough thepleasures arising from such pure love may be heightened andsweetenedby the assistance of amorous desiresyet the former cansubsistalonenor are they destroyed by the intervention of thelatter.Lastlythat esteem and gratitude are the proper motives toloveasyouth and beauty are to desireandthereforethough suchdesire maynaturally ceasewhen age or sickness overtakes its object;yet thesecan have no effect on lovenor ever shake or removefrom agood mindthat sensation or passion which hath gratitude and esteemfor itsbasis.

  Todeny the existence of a passion of which we often see manifestinstancesseems to be very strange and absurd; and can indeed proceedonly fromthat self-admonition which we have mentioned above: buthow unfairis this! Doth the man who recognizes in his own heart notraces ofavarice or ambitionconcludethereforethat there areno suchpassions in human nature? Why will we not modestly observe thesame rulein judging of the goodas well as the evil of others? Orwhyinany casewill weas Shakespear phrases it"put the world inour ownperson?"

 Predominant vanity isI am afraidtoo much concerned here. This isoneinstance of that adulation which we bestow on our own mindsandthisalmost universally. For there is scarce any manhow muchsoever hemay despise the character of a flattererbut willcondescendin the meanest manner to flatter himself.

  Tothose therefore I apply for the truth of the aboveobservationswhose own minds can bear testimony to what I haveadvanced.

 Examine your heartmy good readerand resolve whether you dobelievethese matters with me. If you doyou may now proceed to theirexemplificationin the following pages: if you do notyou haveIassureyoualready read more than you have understood; and it wouldbe wiserto pursue your businessor your pleasures (such as theyare)thanto throw away any more of your time in reading what you canneithertaste nor comprehend. To treat of the effects of love toyoumustbe as absurd as to discourse on colours to a man born blind;sincepossibly your idea of love may be as absurd as that which we aretold suchblind man once entertained of the colour scarlet; thatcolourseemed to him to be very much like the sound of a trumpet:and loveprobably mayin your opinionvery greatly resemble a dishof soupor a surloin of roast-beef.

Chapter2
Thecharacter of Mrs. Western. Her great learning and knowledge ofthe worldand an instance of the deep penetration which she derivedfrom thoseadvantages

  Thereader hath seen Mr. Westernhis sisterand daughterwithyoungJonesand the parsongoing together to Mr. Western's housewhere thegreater part of the company spent the evening with muchjoy andfestivity. Sophia was indeed the only grave person; for asto Jonesthough love had now gotten entire possession of his heartyet thepleasing reflection on Mr. Allworthy's recoveryand thepresenceof his mistressjoined to some tender looks which she nowand thencould not refrain from giving himso elevated our heroethat hejoined the mirth of the other threewho were perhaps asgood-humouredpeople as any in the world.

 Sophia retained the same gravity of countenance the next morningatbreakfast; whence she retired likewise earlier than usualleavingher father and aunt together. The squire took no notice ofthischange in his daughter's disposition. To say the truththough hewassomewhat of a politicianand had been twice a candidate in thecountryinterest at an electionhe was a man of no great observation.His sisterwas a lady of a different turn. She had lived about thecourtandhad seen the world. Hence she had acquired all thatknowledgewhich the said world usually communicates; and was a perfectmistressof mannerscustomsceremoniesand fashions. Nor did hereruditionstop here. She had considerably improved her mind bystudy; shehad not only read all the modern playsoperasoratoriospoemsand romances- in all which she was a critic; buthad gonethrough Rapin's History of EnglandEachard's RomanHistoryand many French Memoires pour servir a l'Histoire: to theseshe hadadded most of the political pamphlets and journals publishedwithin thelast twenty years. From which she had attained a verycompetentskill in politicsand could discourse very learnedly on theaffairs ofEurope. She wasmoreoverexcellently well skilled inthedoctrine of amourand knew better than anybody who and who weretogether;a knowledge which she the more easily attainedas herpursuit ofit was never diverted by any affairs of her own; for eithershe had noinclinationsor they had never been solicited; whichlast isindeed very probable; for her masculine personwhich was nearsix foothighadded to her manner and learningpossibly preventedthe othersex from regarding hernotwithstanding her petticoatsinthe lightof a woman. Howeveras she had considered the matterscientificallyshe perfectly well knewthough she had neverpractisedthemall the arts which fine ladies use when they desire togiveencouragementor to conceal likingwith all the longappendageof smilesoglesglances&c.as they are at presentpractisedin the beau-monde. To sum the wholeno species ofdisguiseor affectation had escaped her notice; but as to the plainsimpleworkings of honest natureas she had never seen any suchshe couldknow but little of them.

  Bymeans of this wonderful sagacityMrs. Western had nowas shethoughtmade a discovery of something in the mind of Sophia. Thefirst hintof this she took from the behaviour of the young lady inthe fieldof battle; and the suspicion which she then conceivedwasgreatlycorroborated by some observations which she had made thateveningand the next morning. Howeverbeing greatly cautious to avoidbeingfound in a mistakeshe carried the secret a whole fortnightin herbosomgiving only some oblique hintsby simperingwinksnodsandnow and then dropping an obscure wordwhich indeedsufficientlyalarmed Sophiabut did not at all affect her brother.

 Being at lengthhoweverthoroughly satisfied of the truth of herobservationshe took an opportunityone morningwhen she wasalone withher brotherto interrupt one of his whistles in thefollowingmanner:-

 "Praybrotherhave you not observed something veryextraordinaryin myniece lately?"

"Nonot I" answered Western; "isanything thematterwith the girl?"

"I think there is" replied she; "andsomethingof much consequence too."

"Whyshe doth not complain ofanything"cries Western; "and she hath had the small-pox."

"Brother"returned she"girls are liable to other distempers besidesthesmall-poxand sometimes possibly to much worse." Here Westerninterruptedher with much earnestnessand begged herif anythingailed hisdaughterto acquaint him immediately; adding"she knew heloved hermore than his own souland that he would send to theworld'send for the best physician to her."

"Naynay"answered shesmiling"the distemper is not so terrible; but I believebrotheryou areconvinced I know the worldand I promise you I was never moredeceivedin my lifeif my niece be not most desperately in love."

"How!in love!" cries Westernin a passion; "in lovewithoutacquaintingme! I'll disinherit her; I'll turn her out of doorsstarknakedwithout a farthing. Is all my kindness vor 'urand vondnesso'ur cometo thisto fall in love without asking me leave?"

"Butyouwill not"answered Mrs. Western"turn this daughterwhom you lovebetterthan your own soulout of doorsbefore you know whether youshallapprove her choice. Suppose she should have fixed on the verypersonwhom you yourself would wishI hope you would not be angrythen?"

"Nono" cries Western"that would make adifference. If shemarriesthe man I would ha' hershe may love whom she pleasesIshan'ttrouble my head about that."

"That is spoken"answered thesister"like a sensible man; but I believe the very person she hathchosenwould be the very person you would choose for her. I willdisclaimall knowledge of the worldif it is not so; and I believebrotheryou will allow I have some."

"Whylookeesister"saidWestern"I do believe you have as much as any woman; and to be surethose arewomen's matters. You know I don't love to hear you talkaboutpolitics; they belong to usand petticoats should not meddle:but comewho is the man?"

"Marry!" said she"you mayfind him outyourselfif you please. Youwho are so great a politiciancan be atno greatloss. The judgment which can penetrate into the cabinets ofprincesand discover the secret springs which move the great statewheels inall the political machines of Europemust surelywith verylittledifficultyfind out what passes in the rude uninformed mind ofa girl."

"Sister" cries the squire"I have often warn'd younot totalk thecourt gibberish to me. I tell youI don't understand thelingo: butI can read a journalor the London Evening Post. Perhapsindeedthere may be now and tan a verse which I can't make much ofbecausehalf the letters are left out; yet I know very well what ismeant bythatand that our affairs don't go so well as they shoulddobecause of bribery and corruption."

"I pity your countryignorancefrom my heart" cries the lady.

"Do you?" answeredWestern;"andI pity your town learning; I had rather be anything than acourtierand a Presbyterianand a Hanoverian tooas some peopleIbelieveare."

"If you mean me" answered she"you knowI am awomanbrother; and it signifies nothing what I am. Besides-"

"Idoknow youare a woman" cries the squire"and it's well for theethatart one;if hadst been a manI promise thee I had lent thee a flicklongago."

"Aythere" said she"in that flick liesall yourfanciedsuperiority. Your bodiesand not your brainsare strongerthan ours.Believe meit is well for you that you are able to beatus; orsuch is the superiority of our understandingwe should makeall of youwhat the braveand wiseand wittyand polite arealready-our slaves."

"I am glad I know your mind" answeredthesquire."But we'll talk more of this matter another time. At presentdo tell mewhat man is it you mean about my daughter?"

"Hold amoment"said she"while I digest that sovereign contempt I have foryour sex;or else I ought to be angry too with you. There-- I havemade ashift to gulp it down. And nowgood politic sirwhat thinkyou of Mr.Blifil? Did she not faint away on seeing him lie breathlesson theground? Did she notafter he was recoveredturn pale againthe momentwe came up to that part of the field where he stood? Andpray whatelse should be the occasion of all her melancholy that nightat supperthe next morningand indeed ever since?"

"Fore George!"cries thesquire"now you mind me on'tI remember it all. It iscertainlysoand I am glad on't with all my heart. I knew Sophy was agood girland would not fall in love to make me angry. I was nevermorerejoiced in my life; for nothing can lie so handy together as ourtwoestates. I had this matter in my head some time ago: for certainlythe twoestates are in a manner joined together in matrimony alreadyand itwould be a thousand pities to part them. It is trueindeedthere belarger estates in the kingdombut not in this countyand Ihad ratherbate somethingthan marry my daughter among strangers andforeigners.Besidesmost o' zuch great estates be in the hands oflordsandI heate the very name of themmun. Well butsisterwhatwould youadvise me to do; for I tell you women know these mattersbetterthan we do?"

"Ohyour humble servantsir" answeredthelady: "weare obliged to you for allowing us a capacity in anything.Since youare pleasedthenmost politic sirto ask my adviceIthink youmay propose the match to Allworthy yourself. There is noindecorumin the proposal's coming from the parent of either side.KingAlcinousin Mr. Pope's Odysseyoffers his daughter to Ulysses.I need notcaution so politic a person not to say that your daughteris inlove; that would indeed be against all rules."

"Well"said thesquire"Iwill propose it; but I shall certainly lend un a flickif heshould refuse me."

"Fear not" cries Mrs. Western;"the match istooadvantageous to be refused."

"I don't know that"answered thesquire:"Allworthy is a queer b--chand money hath no effect o'un."

"Brother"said the lady"your politics astonish me. Are you reallyto beimposed on by professions? Do you think Mr. Allworthy hathmorecontempt for money than other men because he professes more? Suchcredulitywould better become one of us weak womenthan that wise sexwhichheaven hath formed for politicians. Indeedbrotheryou wouldmake afine plenipo to negotiate with the French. They would soonpersuadeyouthat they take towns out of mere defensiveprinciples."

"Sister" answered the squirewith much scorn"letyourfriends atcourt answer for the towns taken; as you are a womanIshall layho blame upon you; for I suppose they are wiser than totrustwomen with secrets." He accompanied this with so sarcastical alaughthat Mrs. Western could bear no longer. She had been all thistimefretted in a tender part (for she was indeed very deeplyskilled inthese mattersand very violent in them)and thereforeburstforth in a ragedeclared her brother to be both a clown and ablockheadand that she would stay no longer in his house.

  Thesquirethough perhaps he had never read Machiavelwashoweverin many pointsa perfect politician. He strongly held allthose wisetenetswhich are so well inculcated in thatPolitico-Peripateticschool of Exchange-alley. He knew the justvalue andonly use of moneyviz.to lay it up. He was likewisewellskilled in the exact value of reversionsexpectations&c.and hadoften considered the amount of his sister's fortuneand thechancewhich he or his posterity had of inheriting it. This he wasinfinitelytoo wise to sacrifice to a trifling resentment. When hefoundthereforehe had carried matters too farhe began to think ofreconcilingthem; which was no very difficult taskas the lady hadgreataffection for her brotherand still greater for her niece;and thoughtoo susceptible of an affront offered to her skill inpoliticson which she much valued herselfwas a woman of a veryextraordinarygood and sweet disposition.

 Having firstthereforelaid violent hands on the horsesfor whoseescapefrom the stable no place but the window was left openhenextapplied himself to his sister; softened and soothed herbyunsayingall he had saidand by assertions directly contrary to thosewhich hadincensed her. Lastlyhe summoned the eloquence of Sophia tohisassistancewhobesides a most graceful and winning addresshad theadvantage of being heard with great favour and partiality byher aunt.

  Theresult of the whole was a kind smile from Mrs. Westernwhosaid"Brotheryou are absolutely a perfect Croat; but as thosehave theiruse in the army of the empress queenso you likewisehave somegood in you. I will therefore once more sign a treaty ofpeace withyouand see that you do not infringe it on your side; atleastasyou are so excellent a politicianI may expect you willkeep yourleagueslike the Frenchtill your interest calls uponyou tobreak them."

Chapter3
Containingtwo defiances to the critics

  Thesquire having settled matters with his sisteras we have seenin thelast chapterwas so greatly impatient to communicate theproposalto Allworthythat Mrs. Western had the utmost difficultyto preventhim from visiting that gentleman in his sicknessforthispurpose.

  Mr.Allworthy had been engaged to dine with Mr. Western at thetime whenhe was taken ill. He was therefore no sooner dischargedout of thecustody of physicbut he thought (as was usual with him onalloccasionsboth the highest and the lowest) of fulfilling hisengagement.

  Inthe interval between the time of the dialogue in the lastchapterand this day of public entertainmentSophia hadfromcertainobscure hints thrown out by her auntcollected someapprehensionthat the sagacious lady suspected her passion forJones. Shenow resolved to take this opportunity of wiping out allsuchsuspicionsand for that purpose to put an entire constraint onherbehaviour.

 Firstshe endeavoured to conceal a throbbing melancholy heartwith theutmost sprightliness in her countenanceand the highestgaiety inher manner. Secondlyshe addressed her whole discourse toMr.Blifiland took not the least notice of poor Jones the whole day.

  Thesquire was so delighted with this conduct of his daughterthat hescarce eat any dinnerand spent almost his whole time inwatchingopportunities of conveying signs of his approbation bywinks andnods to his sister; who was not at first altogether sopleasedwith what she saw as was her brother.

  InshortSophia so greatly overacted her partthat her aunt was atfirststaggeredand began to suspect some affectation in her niece;but as shewas herself a woman of great artso she soon attributedthis toextreme art in Sophia. She remembered the many hints she hadgiven herniece concerning her being in loveand imagined the younglady hadtaken this way to rally her out of her opinionby anoveractedcivility: a notion that was greatly corroborated by theexcessivegaiety with which the whole was accompanied. We cannothere avoidremarkingthat this conjecture would have been betterfoundedhad Sophia lived ten years in the air of Grosvenor Squarewhereyoung ladies do learn a wonderful knack of rallying andplayingwith that passionwhich is a mighty serious thing in woodsand grovesan hundred miles distant from London.

  Tosay the truthin discovering the deceit of othersit mattersmuch thatour own art be wound upif I may use the expressionin thesame keywith theirs: for very artful men sometimes miscarry byfancyingothers wiserorin other wordsgreater knavesthan theyreallyare. As this observation is pretty deepI will illustrate itby thefollowing short story. Three countrymen were pursuing aWiltshirethief through Brentford. The simplest of them seeing "TheWiltshireHouse" written under a signadvised his companions toenter itfor there most probably they would find their countryman.Thesecondwho was wiserlaughed at this simplicity; but thethirdwhowas wiser stillanswered"Let us go inhoweverfor hemay thinkwe should not suspect him of going amongst his owncountrymen."They accordingly went in and searched the houseand bythat meansmissed overtaking the thiefwho was at that time but alittle waybefore them; and whoas they all knewbut had neveroncereflectedcould not read.

  Thereader will pardon a digression in which so invaluable asecret iscommunicatedsince every gamester will agree hownecessaryit is to know exactly the play of anotherin order tocounterminehim. This willmoreoverafford a reason why the wisermanas isoften seenis the bubble of the weakerand why manysimple andinnocent characters are so generally misunderstood andmisrepresented;but what is most materialthis will account for thedeceitwhich Sophia put on her politic aunt.

 Dinner being endedand the company retired into the gardenMr.Westernwho was thoroughly convinced of the certainty of what hissister hadtold himtook Mr. Allworthy asideand very bluntlyproposed amatch between Sophia and young Mr. Blifil.

  Mr.Allworthy was not one of those men whose hearts flutter at anyunexpectedand sudden tidings of worldly profit. His mind wasindeedtemperedwith that philosophy which becomes a man and a Christian.Heaffected no absolute superiority to all pleasure and painto alljoy andgrief; but was not at the same time to be discomposed andruffled byevery accidental blastby every smile or frown of fortune.HereceivedthereforeMr. Western's proposal without any visibleemotionor without any alteration of countenance. He said thealliancewas such as he sincerely wished; then launched forth into avery justencomium on the young lady's merit; acknowledged the offerto beadvantageous in point of fortune; and after thanking Mr. Westernfor thegood opinion he had professed of his nephewconcludedthatif theyoung people liked each otherhe should be very desirous tocompletethe affair.

 Western was a little disappointed at Mr. Allworthy's answerwhichwas not sowarm as he expected. He treated the doubt whether the youngpeoplemight like one another with great contemptsaying"Thatparentswere the best judges of proper matches for their children:that forhis part he should insist on the most resigned obedience fromhisdaughter: and if any young fellow could refuse such abed-fellowhe was his humble servantand hoped there was no harmdone."

 Allworthy endeavoured to soften this resentment by many eulogiums onSophiadeclaring he had no doubt but that Mr. Blifil would verygladlyreceive the offer; but all was ineffectual; he could obtainno otheranswer from the squire but

"I say no more- I humbly hopethere's noharm done- that's all." Which words he repeated at least ahundredtimes before they parted.

 Allworthy was too well acquainted with his neighbour to beoffendedat this behaviour; and though he was so averse to therigourwhich some parents exercise on their children in the article ofmarriagethat he had resolved never to force his nephew'sinclinationshe was nevertheless much pleased with the prospect ofthisunion; for the whole country resounded the praises of Sophiaandhe hadhimself greatly admired the uncommon endowments of both hermind andperson. To which I believe we may addthe consideration ofher vastfortunewhichthough he was too sober to be intoxicatedwith ithe was too sensible to despise.

  Andherein defiance of all the barking critics in the worldImust andwill introduce a digression concerning true wisdomofwhich Mr.Allworthy was in reality as great a pattern as he was ofgoodness.

 True wisdom thennotwithstanding all which Mr. Hogarth's poorpoet mayhave writ against richesand in spite of all which anyrichwell-fed divine may have preached against pleasureconsistsnot in thecontempt of either of these. A man may have as muchwisdom inthe possession of an affluent fortuneas any beggar inthestreets; or may enjoy a handsome wife or a hearty friendandstillremain as wise as any sour popish reclusewho buries all hissocialfacultiesand starves his belly while he well lashes his back.

  Tosay truththe wisest man is the likeliest to possess all worldlyblessingsin an eminent degree; for as that moderation which wisdomprescribesis the surest way to useful wealthso can it alone qualifyus totaste many pleasures. The wise man gratifies every appetiteand everypassionwhile the fool sacrifices all the rest to pallandsatiate one.

  Itmay be objectedthat very wise men have been notoriouslyavaricious.I answerNot wise in that instance. It may likewise besaidThatthe wisest men have been in their youth immoderately fondofpleasure. I answerThey were not wise then.

 Wisdomin shortwhose lessons have been represented as so hardto learnby those who never were at her schoolonly teaches us toextend asimple maxim universally known and followed even in thelowestlifea little farther than that life carries it. And thisisnot tobuy at too dear a price.

 Nowwhoever takes this maxim abroad with him into the grandmarket ofthe worldand constantly applies it to honourstorichestopleasuresand to every other commodity which that marketaffordsisI will venture to affirma wise manand must be soacknowledgedin the worldly sense of the word; for he makes the bestofbargainssince in reality he purchases everything at the priceonly of alittle troubleand carries home all the good things Ihavementionedwhile he keeps his healthhis innocenceand hisreputationthe common prices which are paid for them by othersentire andto himself.

 From this moderationlikewisehe learns two other lessonswhichcompletehis character. Firstnever to be intoxicated when he hathmade thebest bargainnor dejected when the market is emptyorwhen itscommodities are too dear for his purchase.

  ButI must remember on what subject I am writingand not trespasstoo far onthe patience of a good-natured critic. HerethereforeIput an endto the chapter.

Chapter4
Containingsundry curious matters

  Assoon as Mr. Allworthy returned homehe took Mr. Blifil apartand aftersome prefacecommunicated to him the proposal which hadbeen madeby Mr. Westernand at the same time informed him howagreeablethis match would be to himself.

  Thecharms of Sophia had not made the least impression on Blifil;not thathis heart was pre-engaged; neither was he totallyinsensibleof beautyor had any aversion to women; but hisappetiteswere by nature so moderatethat he was ableby philosophyor bystudyor by some other methodeasily to subdue them: and as tothatpassion which we have treated of in the first chapter of thisbookhehad not the least tincture of it in his whole composition.

  Butthough he was so entirely free from that mixed passionof whichwe theretreatedand of which the virtues and beauty of Sophia formedso notablean object; yet was he altogether as well furnished withsome otherpassionsthat promised themselves very fullgratificationin the young lady's fortune. Such were avarice andambitionwhich divided the dominion of his mind between them. Hehad morethan once considered the possession of this fortune as a verydesirablethingand had entertained some distant views concerning it;but hisown youthand that of the young ladyand indeedprincipallya reflection that Mr. Western might marry againandhave morechildrenhad restrained him from too hasty or eager apursuit.

 This last and most material objection was now in great measureremovedas the proposal came from Mr. Western himself. Blifilthereforeafter a very short hesitationanswered Mr. Allworthythatmatrimonywas a subject on which he had not yet thought; but that hewas sosensible of his friendly and fatherly carethat he should inall thingssubmit himself to his pleasure.

 Allworthy was naturally a man of spiritand his present gravityarose fromtrue wisdom and philosophynot from any original phlegm inhisdisposition; for he had possessed much fire in his youthandhadmarried a beautiful woman for love. He was not therefore greatlypleasedwith this cold answer of his nephew; nor could he helplaunchingforth into the praises of Sophiaand expressing some wonderthat theheart of a young man could be impregnable to the force ofsuchcharmsunless it was guarded by some prior affection.

 Blifil assured him he had no such guard; and then proceeded todiscourseso wisely and religiously on love and marriagethat hewould havestopt the mouth of a parent much less devoutly inclinedthan washis uncle. In the endthe good man was satisfied that hisnephewfar from having any objections to Sophiahad that esteemfor herwhich in sober and virtuous minds is the sure foundation offriendshipand love. And as he doubted not but the lover wouldin alittletimebecome altogether as agreeable to his mistressheforesawgreat happiness arising to all parties by so proper anddesirablean union. With Mr. Blifil's consent therefore he wrote thenextmorning to Mr. Westernacquainting him that his nephew hadverythankfully and gladly received the proposaland would be readyto wait onthe young ladywhenever she should be pleased to accepthis visit.

 Western was much pleased with this letterand immediatelyreturnedanswer; in whichwithout having mentioned a word to hisdaughterhe appointed that very afternoon for opening the scene ofcourtship.

  Assoon as he had dispatched this messengerhe went in quest of hissisterwhom he found reading and expounding the Gazette to parsonSupple. Tothis exposition he was obliged to attend near a quarterof anhourthough with great violence to his natural impetuositybefore hewas suffered to speak. At lengthhoweverhe found anopportunityof acquainting the ladythat he had business of greatconsequenceto impart to her; to which she answered"BrotherI amentirelyat your service. Things look so well in the norththat I wasnever in abetter humour."

  Theparson then withdrawingWestern acquainted her with all whichhadpassedand desired her to communicate the affair to Sophiawhichshereadily and chearfully undertook; though perhaps her brother was alittleobliged to that agreeable northern aspect which had sodelightedherthat he heard no comment on his proceedings; for theywerecertainly somewhat too hasty and violent.

Chapter5
In whichis related what passed between Sophia and her aunt

 Sophia was in her chamberreadingwhen her aunt came in. Themoment shesaw Mrs. Westernshe shut the book with so much eagernessthat thegood lady could not forbear asking herWhat book that waswhich sheseemed so much afraid of showing? "Upon my wordmadam"answeredSophia"it is a book which I am neither ashamed nor afraidto own Ihave read. It is the production of a young lady of fashionwhose goodunderstandingI thinkdoth honour to her sexand whosegood heartis an honour to human nature." Mrs. Western then took upthe bookand immediately after threw it downsaying

"Yestheauthor isof a very good family; but she is not much among people oneknows. Ihave never read it; for the best judges saythere is notmuch init."

"I dare notmadamset up my own opinion" saysSophia"against the best judgesbut there appears to me a great dealof humannature in it; and in many parts so much true tenderness anddelicacythat it hath cost me many a tear."

"Ayand do you love tocry then?"says the aunt. "I love a tender sensation" answered theniece"and would pay the price of a tear for it at anytime."

"Wellbut show me" said the aunt"what was youreadingwhen Icame in; there was something very tender in thatI believeand veryloving too. You blushmy dear Sophia. Ah! childyoushouldread books which would teach you a little hypocrisywhichwouldinstruct you how to hide your thoughts a little better."- Ihopemadam" answered Sophia"I have no thoughts which I oughtto beashamed ofdiscovering."

"Ashamed! no" cries the aunt"Idon'tthink youhave any thoughts which you ought to be ashamed of; and yetchildyoublushed just now when I mentioned the word loving. DearSophybeassured you have not one thought which I am not wellacquaintedwith; as wellchildas the French are with our motionslongbefore we put them in execution. Did you thinkchildbecauseyou havebeen able to impose upon your fatherthat you could imposeupon me?Do you imagine I did not know the reason of your overactingall thatfriendship for Mr. Blifil yesterday? I have seen a little toomuch ofthe worldto be so deceived. Naynaydo not blush again.I tell youit is a passion you need not be ashamed of. It is a passionI myselfapproveand have already brought your father into theapprobationof it. IndeedI solely consider your inclination; for Iwouldalways have that gratifiedif possiblethough one maysacrificehigher prospects. ComeI have news which will delightyour verysoul. Make me your confidentand I will undertake you shallbe happyto the very extent of your wishes."

"Lamadam" saysSophialookingmore foolishly than ever she did in her life"I know not whatto say-whymadamshould you suspect?"

"Nayno dishonesty"returnedMrs. Western. "Consideryou are speaking to one of your ownsexto anauntand I hope you are convinced you speak to a friend.Consideryou are only revealing to me what I know alreadyand what Iplainlysaw yesterdaythrough that most artful of all disguiseswhich youhad put onand which must have deceived any one who had notperfectlyknown the world. Lastlyconsider it is a passion which Ihighlyapprove."

"Lamadam" says Sophia"you comeupon one sounawaresand on a sudden. To be suremadamI am not blind- andcertainlyif it be a fault to see all human perfections assembledtogether-but is it possible my father and youmadamcan see with myeyes?"

"I tell you" answered the aunt"we do entirelyapprove; andthis veryafternoon your father hath appointed for you to receive yourlover."

"My fatherthis afternoon!" cries Sophiawith the bloodstartingfrom her face.

"Yeschild" said the aunt"thisafternoon.You knowthe impetuosity of my brother's temper. I acquainted him withthepassion which I first discovered in you that evening when youfaintedaway in the field. I saw it in your fainting. I saw itimmediatelyupon your recovery. I saw it that evening at supperandthe nextmorning at breakfast (you knowchildI have seen theworld).WellI no sooner acquainted my brotherbut he immediatelywanted topropose it to Allworthy. He proposed it yesterdayAllworthyconsented(as to be sure he must with joy)and this afternoonI tellyouyouare to put on all your best airs."

"This afternoon!"criesSophia."Dear auntyou frighten me out of my senses."

"Omydear"said theaunt"you will soon come to yourself again; for he is acharmingyoung fellowthat's the truth on't."

"NayI will own"saysSophia"Iknow none with such perfections. So braveand yet sogentle; sowittyyet so inoffensive; so humaneso civilso genteelsohandsome! What signifies his being base bornwhen compared withsuchqualifications as these?"

"Base born? What do you mean?"said theaunt"Mr.Blifil base born!" Sophia turned instantly pale at thisnameandfaintly repeated it. Upon which the aunt cried"Mr.Blifil-ayMr. Blifilof whom else have we been talking?"

"Goodheavens"answered Sophiaready to sink"of Mr. JonesI thought;I am sureI know no other who deserves-"

"I protest" cries theaunt"youfrighten me in your turn. Is it Mr. Jonesand not Mr.Blifilwho is the object of your affection?"

"Mr. Blifil!"repeatedSophia."Sure it is impossible you can be in earnest; if you areI amthe mostmiserable woman alive." Mrs. Western now stood a fewmomentssilentwhile sparks of fiery rage flashed from her eyes. Atlengthcollecting all her force of voiceshe thundered forth inthefollowing articulate sounds:

 "And is it possible you can think of disgracing your family byallyingyourself to a bastard? Can the blood of the Westerns submit tosuchcontamination? If you have not sense sufficient to restrainsuchmonstrous inclinationsI thought the pride of our family wouldhaveprevented you from giving the least encouragement to so base anaffection;much less did I imagine you would ever have had theassuranceto own it to my face."

 "Madam"answered Sophiatrembling"what I have said you haveextortedfrom me. I do not remember to have ever mentioned the name ofMr. Joneswith approbation to any one before; nor should I now had Inotconceived he had your approbation. Whatever were my thoughts ofthat poorunhappy young manI intended to have carried them withme to mygrave- to that grave where only nowI findI am to seekrepose."Here she sunk down in her chairdrowned in her tearsandin all themoving silence of unutterable griefpresented aspectaclewhich must have affected almost the hardest heart.

  Allthis tender sorrowhoweverraised no compassion in her aunt.On thecontraryshe now fell into the most violent rage.

"And Iwouldrather" she criedin a most vehement voice"follow youtoyourgravethan I would see you disgrace yourself and your family bysuch amatch. O Heavens! could I have ever suspected that I shouldlive tohear a niece of mine declare a passion for such a fellow?You arethe first- yesMiss Westernyou are the first of your namewho everentertained so grovelling a thought. A family so noted fortheprudence of its women"- here she ran on a full quarter of anhourtillhaving exhausted her breath rather than her ragesheconcludedwith threatening to go immediately and acquaint her brother.

 Sophia then threw herself at her feetand laying hold of her handsbegged herwith tears to conceal what she had drawn from her; urgingtheviolence of her father's temperand protesting that noinclinationsof hers should ever prevail with her to do anything whichmightoffend him.

 Mrs. Western stood a moment looking at herand thenhavingrecollectedherselfsaid"That on one consideration only she wouldkeep thesecret from her brother; and this wasthat Sophia shouldpromise toentertain Mr. Blifil that very afternoon as her loverand toregard him as the person who was to be her husband."

 Poor Sophia was too much in her aunt's power to deny her anythingpositively;she was obliged to promise that she would see Mr.Blifiland be as civil to him as possible; but begged her aunt thatthe matchmight not be hurried on. She said"Mr. Blifil was by nomeansagreeable to herand she hoped her father would be prevailed onnot tomake her the most wretched of women."

 Mrs. Western assured her"That the match was entirely agreeduponandthat nothing could or should prevent it. I must own" saidshe"Ilooked on it as on a matter of indifference; nayperhapshadsomescruples about it beforewhich were actually got over by mythinkingit highly agreeable to your own inclinations; but now Iregard itas the most eligible thing in the world: nor shall there beif I canprevent ita moment of time lost on the occasion."

 Sophia replied"Delay at leastmadamI may expect from bothyourgoodness and my father's. Surely you will give me time toendeavourto get the better of so strong a disinclination as I have atpresent tothis person."

  Theaunt answered"She knew too much of the world to be sodeceived;that as she was sensible another man had her affectionssheshouldpersuade Mr. Western to hasten the match as much as possible.It wouldbe bad politicsindeed" added she"to protract a siegewhen theenemy's army is at handand in danger of relieving it. NonoSophy" said she"as I am convinced you have a violentpassionwhich youcan never satisfy with honourI will do all I can to putyourhonour out of the care of your family: for when you are marriedthosematters will belong only to the consideration of your husband. Ihopechildyou will always have prudence enough to act as becomesyou; butif you should notmarriage hath saved many a woman fromruin."

 Sophia well understood what her aunt meant; but did not think properto makeher an answer. Howevershe took a resolution to see Mr.Blifiland to behave to him as civilly as she couldfor on thatconditiononly she obtained a promise from her aunt to keep secret thelikingwhich her ill fortunerather than any scheme of Mrs.Westernhad unhappily drawn from her.

Chapter6
Containinga dialogue between Sophia and Mrs. Honourwhich may alittlerelieve those tender affections which the foregoing scene mayhaveraised in the mind of a good-natured reader

 Mrs. Western having obtained that promise from her niece which wehave seenin the last chapterwithdrew; and presently after arrivedMrs.Honour. She was at work in a neighbouring apartmentand had beensummonedto the keyhole by some vociferation in the precedingdialoguewhere she had continued during the remaining part of it.At herentry into the roomshe found Sophia standing motionlesswiththe tearstrickling from her eyes. Upon which she immediatelyordered aproper quantity of tears into her own eyesand thenbegan"OGeminimy dear ladywhat is the matter?"

"Nothing"criesSophia. "Nothing! O dear madam!" answers Honour"youmust nottell methatwhen your ladyship is in this takingand when therehath beensuch a preamble between your ladyship and Madam Western."

"Don'tteaze me" cries Sophia; "I tell you nothing is the matter.Goodheavens! why was I born?"

"Naymadam" says Mrs.Honour"youshallnever persuade me that your la'ship can lament yourself so fornothing.To be sure I am but a servant; but to be sure I have beenalwaysfaithful to your la'shipand to be sure I would serve yourla'shipwith my life."

"My dear Honour" says Sophia"'tisnot inthy powerto be of any service to me. I am irretrievably undone."

"Heavenforbid!" answered the waiting-woman; "but if I can't be ofanyservice toyoupray tell memadam- it will be some comfort to me toknow-praydear ma'amtell me what's the matter."

"My father"criesSophia"is going to marry me to a man I both despise andhate."

"O dearma'am" answered the other"who is thiswicked man?for to besure he is very bador your la'ship would not despisehim."

"His name is poison to my tongue" replied Sophia: "thouwiltknow ittoo soon." Indeedto confess the truthshe knew it alreadyandtherefore was not very inquisitive as to that point. She thenproceededthus: "I don't pretend to give your la'ship advicewhereofyourla'ship knows much better than I can pretend tobeing but aservant;butifackins! no father in England should marry me againstmyconsent. Andto be surethe 'squire is so goodthat if he didbut knowyour la'ship despises and hates the young manto be sure hewould notdesire you to marry him. And if your la'ship would but giveme leaveto tell my master so. To be sureit would be more propererto comefrom your own mouth; but as your la'ship doth not care to foulyourtongue with his nasty name-"

"You are mistakenHonour"saysSophia;"my father was determined before he ever thought fit tomention itto me."

"More shame for him" cries Honour: "youare to goto bed tohimand not master: and thof a man may be a very propermanyetevery woman mayn't think him handsome alike. I am sure mymasterwould never act in this manner of his own head. I wish somepeoplewould trouble themselves only with what belongs to them; theywould notI believelike to be served soif it was their own case;for thoughI am a maidI can easily believe as how all men are notequallyagreeable. And what signifies your la'ship having so great afortuneif you can't please yourself with the man you think mosthandsomest?WellI say nothing; but to be sure it is a pity somefolks hadnot been better born; nayas for that matterI should notmind itmyself; but then there is not so much money; and what of that?yourla'ship hath money enough for both; and where can your la'shipbestowyour fortune better? for to be sure every one must allow thathe is themost handsomestcharmingestfinesttallestproperest manin theworld."

"What do you mean by running on in this manner tome?"criesSophiawith a very grave countenance. "Have I ever given anyencouragementfor these liberties?"

"Nayma'amI ask pardon; Imeant noharm" answered she; "but to be sure the poor gentlemanhathrun in myhead ever since I saw him this morning. To be sureif yourla'shiphad but seen him just nowyou must have pitied him. Poorgentleman!I wishes some misfortune hath not happened to him; for hehath beenwalking about with his arms acrossand looking somelancholyall this morning: I vow and protest it made me almost cryto seehim."

"To see whom?" says Sophia. "Poor Mr.Jones" answeredHonour."See him! whywhere did you see him?" cries Sophia"Bythecanalma'am" says Honour. "There he hath been walking all thismorningand at last there he laid himself down: I believe he liestherestill. To be sureif it had not been for my modestybeing amaidas IamI should have gone and spoke to him. Doma'amlet mego andseeonly for a fancywhether he is there still."

"Pugh!"saysSophia. "There! nono: what should he do there? He is gonebeforethis timeto be sure. Besideswhy- what- why should you go tosee?besidesI want you for something else. Gofetch me my hat andgloves. Ishall walk with my aunt in the grove before dinner." Honourdidimmediately as she was bidand Sophia put her hat on; whenlooking inthe glassshe fancied the ribbon with which her hat wastied didnot become herand so sent her maid back again for a ribbonof adifferent colour; and then giving Mrs. Honour repeated chargesnot toleave her work on any accountas she said it was in violenthasteandmust be finished that very dayshe muttered something moreaboutgoing to the groveand then sallied out the contrary wayandwalkedasfast as her tender trembling limbs could carry herdirectlytowards the canal.

 Jones had been there as Mrs. Honour had told her; he had indeedspent twohours there that morning in melancholy contemplation onhisSophiaand had gone out from the garden at one door the momentsheentered it at another. So that those unlucky minutes which hadbeen spentin changing the ribbonshad prevented the lovers frommeeting atthis time;- a most unfortunate accidentfrom which myfairreaders will not fail to draw a very wholesome lesson. And here Istrictlyforbid all male critics to intermeddle with a circumstancewhich Ihave recounted only for the sake of the ladiesand upon whichthey onlyare at liberty to comment.

Chapter7
A pictureof formal courtship in miniatureas it always ought to bedrawnanda scene of a tenderer kind painted at full length

  Itwas well remarked by one (and perhaps by more)thatmisfortunesdo not come single. This wise maxim was now verified bySophiawho was not only disappointed of seeing the man she lovedbuthad thevexation of being obliged to dress herself outin order toreceive avisit from the man she hated.

 That afternoon Mr. Westernfor the first timeacquainted hisdaughterwith his intention; telling herhe knew very well that shehad heardit before from her aunt. Sophia looked very grave upon thisnor couldshe prevent a few pearls from stealing into her eyes. "Comecome"says Western"none of your maidenish airs; I know all; Iassure yousister hath told me all."

  "Isit possible" says Sophia"that my aunt can have betrayedmealready?"

"Ayay" says Western; "betrayed you! ay. Whyyoubetrayedyourself yesterday at dinner. You showed your fancy veryplainlyIthink. But you young girls never know what you would be at.So you crybecause I am going to marry you to the man you are in lovewith! YourmotherI rememberwhimpered and whined just in the samemanner;but it was all over within twenty-four hours after we weremarried:Mr. Blifil is a brisk young manand will soon put an end toyoursqueamishness. Comechear upchear up; I expect un everyminute."

 Sophia was now convinced that her aunt had behaved honourably toher: andshe determined to go through that disagreeable afternoon withas muchresolution as possibleand without giving the least suspicionin theworld to her father.

  Mr.Blifil soon arrived; and Mr. Western soon after withdrawingleft theyoung couple together.

 Here a long silence of near a quarter of an hour ensued; for thegentlemanwho was to begin the conversation had all the unbecomingmodestywhich consists in bashfulness. He often attempted to speakand asoften suppressed his words just at the very point of utterance.At lastout they broke in a torrent of far-fetched and high-strainedcomplimentswhich were answered on her side by downcast lookshalfbowsandcivil monosyllables. Blifilfrom his inexperience in theways ofwomenand from his conceit of himselftook this behaviourfor amodest assent to his courtship; and whento shorten a scenewhich shecould no longer supportSophia rose up and left the roomhe imputedthattoomerely to bashfulnessand comforted himselfthat heshould soon have enough of her company.

  Hewas indeed perfectly well satisfied with his prospect of success;for as tothat entire and absolute possession of the heart of hismistresswhich romantic lovers requirethe very idea of it neverenteredhis head. Her fortune and her person were the sole objectsof hiswishesof which he made no doubt soon to obtain the absoluteproperty;as Mr. Western's mind was so earnestly bent on the match;and as hewell knew the strict obedience which Sophia was always readyto pay toher father's willand the greater still which her fatherwouldexactif there was occasion. This authoritythereforetogetherwith the charms which he fancied in his own person andconversationcould not failhe thoughtof succeeding with a youngladywhose inclinations werehe doubted notentirely disengaged.

  OfJones he certainly had not even the least jealousy; and I haveoftenthought it wonderful that he had not. Perhaps he imagined thecharacterwhich Jones bore all over the country (how justlylet thereaderdetermine)of being one of the wildest fellows in Englandmightrender him odious to a lady of the most exemplary modesty.Perhapshis suspicions might be laid asleep by the behaviour ofSophiaand of Jones himselfwhen they were all in companytogether.Lastlyand indeed principallyhe was well assured therewas notanother self in the case. He fancied that he knew Jones to thebottomand had in reality a great contempt for his understandingfornot beingmore attached to his own interest. He had no apprehensionthat Joneswas in love with Sophia; and as for any lucrativemotiveshe imagined they would sway very little with so silly afellow.Blifilmoreoverthought the affair of Molly Seagrim stillwent onand indeed believed it would end in marriage; for Jonesreallyloved him from his childhoodand had kept no secret fromhimtillhis behaviour on the sickness of Mr. Allworthy hadentirelyalienated his heart; and it was by means of the quarrel whichhad ensuedon this occasionand which was not yet reconciledthatMr. Blifilknew nothing of the alteration which had happened in theaffectionwhich Jones had formerly borne towards Molly.

 From these reasonsthereforeMr. Blifil saw no bar to hissuccesswith Sophia. He concluded her behaviour was like that of allotheryoung ladies on a first visit from a loverand it had indeedentirelyanswered his expectations.

  Mr.Western took care to way-lay the lover at his exit from hismistress.He found him so elevated with his successso enamoured withhisdaughterand so satisfied with her reception of himthat the oldgentlemanbegan to caper and dance about his halland by many otheranticactions to express the extravagance of his joy; for he had notthe leastcommand over any of his passions; and that which had atany timethe ascendant in his mind hurried him to the wildestexcesses.

  Assoon as Blifil was departedwhich was not till after many heartykisses andembraces bestowed on him by Westernthe good squire wentinstantlyin quest of his daughterwhom he no sooner found than hepouredforth the most extravagant rapturesbidding her chuse whatclothesand jewels she pleased; and declaring that he had no other useforfortune but to make her happy. He then caressed her again andagain withthe utmost profusion of fondnesscalled her by the mostendearingnamesand protested she was his only joy on earth.

 Sophia perceiving her father in this fit of affectionwhich she didnotabsolutely know the reason of (for fits of fondness were notunusual tohimthough this was rather more violent than ordinary)thoughtshe should never have a better opportunity of disclosingherselfthan at presentas far at least as regarded Mr. Blifil; andshe toowell foresaw the necessity which she should soon be under ofcoming toa full explanation. After having thanked the squirethereforefor all his professions of kindnessshe addedwith a lookfull ofinexpressible softness"And is it possible my papa can beso good toplace all his joy in his Sophy's happiness?" whichWesternhaving confirmed by a great oathand a kiss; she then laidhold ofhis handandfalling on her kneesafter many warm andpassionatedeclarations of affection and dutyshe begged him "notto makeher the most miserable creature on earth by forcing her tomarry aman whom she detested. This I entreat of youdear sir"said she"for your sakeas well as my ownsince you are so verykind totell me your happiness depends on mine."

"How! what!"saysWesternstaring wildly. "Oh! sir" continued she"not onlyyour poorSophy'shappiness; her very lifeher beingdepends upon yourgrantingher request. I cannot live with Mr. Blifil. To force meinto thismarriage would be killing me."

"You can't live with Mr.Blifil?"says Western. "Noupon my soul I can't" answered Sophia."Thendie and be d--d" cries hespurning her from him. "Oh!sir"criesSophiacatching hold of the skirt of his coat"take pity onmeIbeseech you. Don't look and say such cruel-- Can you be unmovedwhile yousee your Sophy in this dreadful condition? Can the best offathersbreak my heart? Will he kill me by the most painfulcruellingeringdeath?"

"Pooh! pooh!" cries the squire; "allstuff andnonsense;all maidenish tricks. Kill youindeed! Will marriage killyou?"

"Oh! sir" answered Sophia"such a marriage is worsethandeath. Heis not even indifferent; I hate and detest him."

"If youdetest unnever so much" cries Western"you shall ha'un." Thishebound byan oath too shocking to repeat; and after many violentasseverationsconcluded in these words: "I am resolved upon thematchandunless you consent to it I will not give you a groatnot asinglefarthing; nothough I saw you expiring with famine in thestreetIwould not relieve you with a morsel of bread. This is myfixedresolutionand so I leave you to consider on it." He then brokefrom herwith such violencethat her face dashed against the floor;and heburst directly out of the roomleaving poor Sophia prostrateon theground.

 When Western came into the hallhe there found Jones; who seeinghis friendlooking wildpaleand almost breathlesscould notforbearenquiring the reason of all these melancholy appearances. Uponwhich thesquire immediately acquainted him with the whole matterconcludingwith bitter denunciations against Sophiaand very patheticlamentationsof the misery of all fathers who are so unfortunate tohavedaughters.

 Jonesto whom all the resolutions which had been taken in favour ofBlifilwere yet a secretwas at first almost struck dead with thisrelation;but recovering his spirits a littlemere despairas heafterwardssaidinspired him to mention a matter to Mr. Westernwhichseemed to require more impudence than a human forehead wasevergifted with. He desired leave to go to Sophiathat he mightendeavourto obtain her concurrence with her father's inclinations.

  Ifthe squire had been as quicksighted as he was remarkable forthecontrarypassion might at present very well have blinded him.He thankedJones for offering to undertake the officeand said"Gogopritheetry what canst do;" and then swore many execrableoaths thathe would turn her out of doors unless she consented tothe match.

Chapter8
Themeeting between Jones and Sophia

 Jones departed instantly in quest of Sophiawhom he found justrisen fromthe groundwhere her father had left herwith the tearstricklingfrom her eyesand the blood running from her lips. Hepresentlyran to herand with a voice full at once of tendernessandterrourcried"O my Sophiawhat means this dreadful sight?"Shelookedsoftly at him for a moment before she spokeand then said"Mr.Jonesfor Heaven's sake how came you here?- Leave meI beseechyouthismoment."

"Do not" says he"impose so harsh acommandupon me-my heart bleeds faster than those lips. O Sophiahow easilycould Idrain my veins to preserve one drop of that dear blood."

"Ihave toomany obligations to you already" answered she"for sureyoumeant themsuch." Here she looked at him tenderly almost a minuteandthenbursting into an agonycried"OhMr. Joneswhy did you savemy life?my death would have been happier for us both."

"Happierforus both!"cried he. "Could racks or wheels kill me so painfully asSophia's-I cannot bear the dreadful sound. Do I live but for her?"Both hisvoice and looks were full of inexpressible tenderness when hespokethese words; and at the same time he laid gently hold on herhandwhich she did not withdraw from him; to say the truthshehardlyknew what she did or suffered. A few moments now passed insilencebetween these loverswhile his eyes were eagerly fixed onSophiaand hers declining towards the ground: at last she recoveredstrengthenough to desire him again to leave herfor that her certainruin wouldbe the consequence of their being found together; adding"OhMr. Jonesyou know notyou know not what hath passed this cruelafternoon."

"I know allmy Sophia" answered he; "your cruelfatherhath toldme alland he himself hath sent me hither to you."

"Myfathersent you to me!" replied she: "sure you dream."

"Would toHeaven"cries he"it was but a dream! OhSophiayour father hathsent me toyouto be an advocate for my odious rivalto solicityou in hisfavour. I took any means to get access to you. O speak tomeSophia! comfort my bleeding heart. Sure no one ever lovedeverdoatedlike me. Do not unkindly withhold this dearthis softthisgentlehand- one momentperhapstears you for ever from me- nothingless thanthis cruel occasion couldI believehave ever conqueredtherespect and awe with which you have inspired me." She stood amomentsilentand covered with confusion; then lifting up her eyesgentlytowards himshe cried"What would Mr. Jones have mesay?"

"O do but promise" cries he"that you never willgiveyourselfto Blifil."

"Name not" answered she"thedetested sound.Be assuredI never will give him what is in my power to withhold fromhim."

"Now then" cries he"while you are so perfectlykindgo alittlefartherand add that I may hope."

"Alas!" says she"Mr.Joneswhither will you drive me? What hope have I to bestow? You knowmyfather's intentions."

"But I know" answered he"your compliancewith themcannot be compelled."

"What" says she"must bethedreadfulconsequence of my disobedience? My own ruin is my leastconcern. Icannot bear the thoughts of being the cause of myfather'smisery."

"He is himself the cause" cries Jones"byexacting apower over you which Nature hath not given him. Think onthe miserywhich I am to suffer if I am to lose youand see on whichside pitywill turn the balance."

"Think of it!" replied she:"canyouimagine I do not feel the ruin which I must bring on youshould Icomplywith your desire? It is that thought which gives meresolutionto bid you fly from me for everand avoid your owndestruction."

"I fear no destruction" cries he"but the loss ofSophia. Ifyou would save me from the most bitter agoniesrecall thatcruelsentence. IndeedI can never part with youindeed I cannot."

  Thelovers now stood both silent and tremblingSophia beingunable towithdraw her hand from Jonesand he almost as unable tohold it;when the scenewhich I believe some of my readers will thinkhad lastedlong enoughwas interrupted by one of so different anaturethat we shall reserve the relation of it for a differentchapter.

Chapter9
Being of amuch more tempestuous kind than the former

 Before we proceed with what now happened to our loversit may beproper torecount what had past in the hall during their tenderinterview.

 Soon after Jones had left Mr. Western in the manner above mentionedhis sistercame to himand was presently informed of all that hadpassedbetween her brother and Sophia relating to Blifil.

 This behaviour in her niece the good lady construed to be anabsolutebreach of the condition on which she had engaged to keepher lovefor Mr. Jones a secret. She considered herselfthereforeatfullliberty to reveal all she knew to the squirewhich sheimmediatelydid in the most explicit termsand without any ceremonyorpreface.

  Theidea of a marriage between Jones and his daughterhad neveronceentered into the squire's headeither in the warmest minutesof hisaffection towards that young manor from suspicionor onany otheroccasion. He did indeed consider a parity of fortune andcircumstancesto be physically as necessary an ingredient in marriageasdifference of sexesor any other essential; and had no moreapprehensionof his daughter's falling in love with a poor manthanwith anyanimal of a different species.

  Hebecamethereforelike one thunderstruck at his sister'srelation.He wasat firstincapable of making any answerhavingbeenalmost deprived of his breath by the violence of the surprize.Thishoweversoon returnedandas is usual in other cases after anintermissionwith redoubled force and fury.

  Thefirst use he made of the power of speechafter his recoveryfrom thesudden effects of his astonishmentwas to discharge aroundvolley of oaths and imprecations. After which he proceededhastily tothe apartment where he expected to find the loversandmurmuredor rather indeed roared forthintentions of revenge everystep hewent.

  Aswhen two dovesor two wood-pigeonsor as when Strephon andPhyllis(for that comes nearest to the mark) are retired into somepleasantsolitary groveto enjoy the delightful conversation of Lovethatbashful boywho cannot speak in publicand is never a goodcompanionto more than two at a time; herewhile every object issereneshould hoarse thunder burst suddenly through the shatteredcloudsand rumbling roll along the skythe frightened maid startsfrom themossy bank or verdant turfthe pale livery of death succeedsthe redregimentals in which Love had before drest her cheeksfearshakes herwhole frameand her lover scarce supports her tremblingtotteringlimbs.

  Oras when two gentlemenstrangers to the wondrous wit of theplacearecracking a bottle together at some inn or tavern atSalisburyif the great Dowdywho acts the part of a madman as wellas some ofhis setters-on do that of a foolshould rattle his chainsanddreadfully hum forth the grumbling catch along the gallery; thefrightedstrangers stand aghast; scared at the horrid soundthey seeksome placeof shelter from the approaching danger; and if thewell-barredwindows did admit their exitwould venture their necks toescape thethreatening fury now coming upon them.

  Sotrembled poor Sophiaso turned she pale at the noise of herfatherwhoin a voice most dreadful to hearcame on swearingcursingand vowing the destruction of Jones. To say the truthIbelievethe youth himself wouldfrom some prudent considerationshavepreferred another place of abode at this timehad his terroronSophia's account given him liberty to reflect a moment on whatany otherways concerned himselfthan as his love made him partakewhateveraffected her.

  Andnow the squirehaving burst open the doorbeheld an objectwhichinstantly suspended all his fury against Jones; this was theghastlyappearance of Sophiawho had fainted away in her lover'sarms. Thistragical sight Mr. Western no sooner beheldthan all hisrageforsook him; he roared for help with his utmost violence; ranfirst tohis daughterthen back to the door calling for waterandthen backagain to Sophianever considering in whose arms she thenwasnorperhaps once recollecting that there was such a person in theworld asJones; for indeed I believe the present circumstances ofhisdaughter were now the sole consideration which employed histhoughts.

 Mrs. Western and a great number of servants soon came to theassistanceof Sophia with watercordialsand everything necessary onthoseoccasions. These were applied with such successthat Sophiain a veryfew minutes began to recoverand all the symptoms of lifeto return.Upon which she was presently led off by her own maid andMrs.Western: nor did that good lady depart without leaving somewholesomeadmonitions with her brotheron the dreadful effects of hispassionoras she pleased to call itmadness.

  Thesquireperhapsdid not understand this good adviceas itwasdelivered in obscure hintsshrugsand notes of admiration: atleastifhe did understand ithe profited very little by it; forno soonerwas he cured of his immediate fears for his daughterthanherelapsed into his former frenzywhich must have produced animmediatebattle with Joneshad not parson Supplewho was a verystrongmanbeen presentand by mere force restrained the squire fromacts ofhostility.

  Themoment Sophia was departedJones advanced in a very suppliantmanner toMr. Westernwhom the parson held in his armsand beggedhim to bepacified; for thatwhile he continued in such a passionitwould beimpossible to give him any satisfaction.

  "Iwull have satisfaction o' thee" answered the squire: "sodoffthyclothes. At unt half a manand I'll lick thee as well as wasteverlicked in thy life." He then bespattered the youth withabundanceof thatlanguage which passes between country gentlemen who embraceoppositesides of the question; with frequent applications to him tosalutethat part which is generally introduced into allcontroversiesthat arise among the lower orders of the Englishgentry athorse-racescock-matchesand other public places.Allusionsto this part are likewise often made for the sake of thejest. AndhereI believethe wit is generally misunderstood. Inrealityit lies in desiring another to kiss your a-- for having justbeforethreatened to kick his; for I have observed very accuratelythat noone ever desires you to kick that which belongs to himselfnor offersto kiss this part in another.

  Itmay likewise seem surprizing that in the many thousand kindinvitationsof this sortwhich every one who hath conversed withcountrygentlemen must have heardno oneI believehath ever seen asingleinstance where the desire hath been complied with;- a greatinstanceof their want of politeness; for in town nothing can bemorecommon than for the finest gentlemen to perform this ceremonyevery dayto their superiorswithout having that favour oncerequestedof them.

  Toall such witJones very calmly answered"Sirthis usage mayperhapscancel every other obligation you have conferred on me; butthere isone you can never cancel; nor will I be provoked by yourabuse tolift my hand against the father of Sophia."

  Atthese words the squire grew still more outrageous than before; sothat theparson begged Jones to retire; saying"You beholdsirhow hewaxeth wrath at your abode here; therefore let me pray younot totarry any longer. His anger is too much kindled for you tocommunewith him at present. You had betterthereforeconcludeyourvisitand refer what matters you have to urge in your behalfto someother opportunity."

 Jones accepted this advice with thanksand immediately departed.The squirenow regained the liberty of his handsand so much temperas toexpress some satisfaction in the restraint which had been laidupon him;declaring that he should certainly have beat his brains out;andadding"It would have vexed one confoundedly to have beenhanged forsuch a rascal."

  Theparson now began to triumph in the success of his peacemakingendeavoursand proceeded to read a lecture against angerwhich mightperhapsrather have tended to raise than to quiet that passion in somehastyminds. This lecture he enriched with many valuable quotationsfrom theantientsparticularly from Seneca; who hath indeed so wellhandledthis passionthat none but a very angry man can read himwithoutgreat pleasure and profit. The doctor concluded thisharanguewith the famous story of Alexander and Clitus; but as Ifind thatentered in my common-place under title DrunkennessIshall notinsert it here.

  Thesquire took no notice of this storynor perhaps of anythinghe said;for he interrupted him before he had finishedby calling fora tankardof beer; observing (which is perhaps as true as anyobservationon this fever of the mind) that anger makes a man dry.

  Nosooner had the squire swallowed a large draught than he renewedthediscourse on Jonesand declared a resolution of going the nextmorningearly to acquaint Mr. Allworthy. His friend would havedissuadedhim from thisfrom the mere motive of good-nature; buthisdissuasion had no other effect than to produce a large volley ofoaths andcurseswhich greatly shocked the pious ears of Supple;but he didnot dare to remonstrate against a privilege which thesquireclaimed as a freeborn Englishman. To say truththe parsonsubmittedto please his palate at the squire's tableat the expenseofsuffering now and then this violence to his ears. He contentedhimselfwith thinking he did not promote this evil practiseandthat thesquire would not swear an oath the lessif he neverenteredwithin his gates. Howeverthough he was not guilty of illmanners byrebuking a gentleman in his own househe paid him offobliquelyin the pulpit: which had notindeedthe good effect ofworking areformation in the squire himself; yet it so far operated onhisconsciencethat he put the laws very severely in executionagainstothersand the magistrate was the only person in the parishwho couldswear with impunity.

Chapter10
In whichMr. Western visits Mr. Allworthy

  Mr.Allworthy was now retired from breakfast with his nephewwellsatisfiedwith the report of the young gentleman's successful visit toSophia(for he greatly desired the matchmore on account of the younglady'scharacter than of her riches)when Mr. Western brokeabruptlyin upon themand without any ceremony began as follows:-

 "Thereyou have done a fine piece of work truly! You havebroughtup yourbastard to a fine purpose; not that I believe you have had anyhand in itneitherthat isas a man may saydesignedly: but thereis a finekettle-of-fish made on't up at our house."

"What can bethematterMr. Western?" said Allworthy. "Omatter enow ofallconscience:my daughter hath fallen in love with your bastardthat'sall; but I won't ge her a hapenynot the twentieth part of abrassvarden. I always thought what would come o' breeding up abastardlike a gentlemanand letting un come about to vok's houses.It's wellvor un I could not get at un: I'd a lick'd un; I'd a spoil'dhiscaterwauling; I'd a taught the son of a whore to meddle withmeat forhis master. He shan't ever have a morsel of meat of mineor avarden to buy it: if she will ha unone smock shall be herportion.I'd sooner ge my esteate to the zinking fundthat it maybe sent toHanover to corrupt our nation with."

"I am heartily sorry"criesAllworthy. "Pox o' your sorrowsays Western; "it will domeabundanceof good when I have lost my only childmy poor Sophythat wasthe joy of my heartand all the hope and comfort of myage; but Iam resolved I will turn her out o' doors; she shall begandstarveand rot in the streets. Not one hapenynot a hapeny shallshe everhae o' mine. The son of a bitch was always good at findinga haresittingan be rotted to'n: I little thought what puss he waslookingafter; but it shall be the worst he ever vound in his life.She shallbe no better than carrion: the skin o'er is all he shall haand zu youmay tell un."

"I am in amazement" cries Allworthy"atwhat youtell meafter what passed between my nephew and the younglady nolonger ago than yesterday."

"Yessir" answeredWestern"itwas after what passed between your nephew and she that the wholemattercame out. Mr. Blifil there was no sooner gone than the son of awhore camelurching about the house. Little did I think when I used tolove himfor a sportsman that he was all the while a-poaching after mydaughter."

"Why truly" says Allworthy"I could wish you had notgiven himso many opportunities with her; and you will do me thejustice toacknowledge that I have always been averse to his stayingso much atyour housethough I own I had no suspicion of thiskind."

"Whyzounds" cries Western"who could have thoughtit?What thedevil had she to do wi'n? He did not come there a courting toher; hecame there a hunting with me."

"But was it possible"saysAllworthy"that you should never discern any symptoms of love betweenthemwhenyou have seen them so often together?"

"Never in my lifeas I hopeto be saved" cries Western: "I never so much as zeed himkiss herin all my life; and so far from courting herhe usedrather tobe more silent when she was in company than at any othertime; andas for the girlshe was always less civil to'n than toany youngman that came to the house. As to that matterI am not moreeasy to bedeceived than another; I would not have you think I amneighbour."Allworthy could scarce refrain laughter at this; but heresolvedto do a violence to himself; for he perfectly well knewmankindand had too much good-breeding and good-nature to offendthe squirein his present circumstances. He then asked Western what hewould havehim do upon this occasion. To which the other answered"Thathe would have him keep the rascal away from his houseandthat hewould go and lock up the wench; for he was resolved to makeher marryMr. Blifil in spite of her teeth." He then shook Blifil bythe handBlifil by the handand swore he would have no otherson-in-law.Presently after which he took his leave; saying hishouse wasin such disorder that it was necessary for him to make hastehometotake care his daughter did not give him the slip; and asfor Joneshe swore if he caught him at his househe would qualifyhim to runfor the geldings' plate.

 When Allworthy and Blifil were again left togethera long silenceensuedbetween them; all which interval the young gentleman filledup withsighswhich proceeded partly from disappointmentbut morefromhatred; for the success of Jones was much more grievous to himthan theloss of Sophia.

  Atlength his uncle asked him what he was determined to doand heansweredin the following words:

"Alas! sircan it be a questionwhat stepa lover will takewhen reason and passion point differentways? I amafraid it is too certain he willin that dilemmaalwaysfollow thelatter. Reason dictates to meto quit all thoughts of awoman whoplaces her affections on another; my passion bids me hopeshe may intime change her inclinations in my favour. HerehoweverIconceivean objection may be raisedwhichif it could not fully beansweredwould totally deter me from any further pursuit. I meantheinjustice of endeavouring to supplant another in a heart ofwhich heseems already in possession; but the determined resolution ofMr.Western shows thatin this caseI shallby so doingpromotethehappiness of every party; not only that of the parentwho willthus bepreserved from the highest degree of miserybut of both theotherswho must be undone by this match. The ladyI am surewill beundone inevery sense; forbesides the loss of most part of her ownfortuneshe will be not only married to a beggarbut the littlefortunewhich her father cannot withhold from her will be squanderedon thatwench with whom I know he yet converses. Naythat is atrifle;for I know him to be one of the worst men in the world; forhad mydear uncle known what I have hitherto endeavoured to concealhe musthave long since abandoned so profligate a wretch."

"How!"saidAllworthy;"hath he done anything worse than I already know? TellmeIbeseech you?"

"No" replied Blifil; "it is nowpastand perhapshe mayhave repented of it."

"I command youon your duty"saidAllworthy"to tell me what you mean."

"You knowsir" saysBlifil"Inever disobeyed you; but I am sorry I mentioned itsince it maynow looklike revengewhereasI thank Heavenno such motive everentered myheart; and if you oblige me to discover itI must be hispetitionerto you for your forgiveness."

"I will have noconditions"answered Allworthy; "I think I have shown tendernessenoughtowards himand more perhaps than you ought to thank mefor."

"MoreindeedI fearthan he deserved" cries Blifil;"forin thevery day of your utmost dangerwhen myself and all thefamilywere in tearshe filled the house with riot and debauchery. Hedrankandsungand roared; and when I gave him a gentle hint oftheindecency of his actionshe fell into a violent passionsworemanyoathscalled me rascaland struck me."

"How!" criesAllworthy;"did he dare to strike you?"

"I am sure" criesBlifil"Ihave forgiven him that long ago. I wish I could so easily forgethisingratitude to the best of benefactors; and yet even that I hopeyou willforgive himsince he must have certainly been possessed withthe devil:for that very eveningas Mr. Thwackum and myself weretaking theair in the fieldsand exulting in the good symptoms thenfirstbegan to discover themselveswe unluckily saw him engagedwith awench in a manner not fit to be mentioned. Mr. Thwackumwithmoreboldness than prudenceadvanced to rebuke himwhen (I amsorry tosay it) he fell upon the worthy manand beat him sooutrageouslythat I wish he may have yet recovered the bruises. Norwas Iwithout my share of the effects of his malicewhile Iendeavouredt6 protect my tutor; but that I have long forgiven; nayIprevailedwith Mr. Thwackum to forgive him tooand not to informyou of asecret which I feared might be fatal to him. And nowsirsince Ihave unadvisedly dropped a hint of this matterand yourcommandshave obliged me to discover the wholelet me intercedewith youfor him."

"O child!" said Allworthy"I know notwhether Ishouldblame or applaud your goodnessin concealing such villany amoment:but where is Mr. Thwackum? Not that I want any confirmation ofwhat yousay; but I will examine all the evidence of this mattertojustify tothe world the example I am resolved to make of such amonster."

 Thwackum was now sent forand presently appeared. He corroboratedeverycircumstance which the other had deposed; nayhe produced therecordupon his breastwhere the handwriting of Mr. Jones remainedverylegible in black and blue. He concluded with declaring to Mr.Allworthythat he should have long since informed him of this matterhad notMr. Blifilby the most earnest interpositionsprevented him."Heis" says he"an excellent youth: though such forgivenessofenemies iscarrying the matter too far."

  InrealityBlifil had taken some pains to prevail with theparsonand to prevent the discovery at that time; for which he hadmanyreasons. He knew that the minds of men are apt to be softened andrelaxedfrom their usual severity by sickness. Besideshe imaginedthat ifthe story was told when the fact was so recentand thephysicianabout the housewho might have unravelled the real truthhe shouldnever be able to give it the malicious turn which heintended.Againhe resolved to hoard up this businesstill theindiscretionof Jones should afford some additional complaints; for hethoughtthe joint weight of many facts falling upon him togetherwould bethe most likely to crush him; and he watchedthereforesomesuchopportunity as that with which fortune had now kindly presentedhim.Lastlyby prevailing with Thwackum to conceal the matter for atimeheknew he should confirm an opinion of his friendship to Joneswhich hehad greatly laboured to establish in Mr. Allworthy.

Chapter11
A shortchapter; but which contains sufficient matter to affectthegood-natured reader

  Itwas Mr. Allworthy's custom never to punish any onenot even toturn awaya servantin a passion. He resolved therefore to delaypassingsentence on Jones till the afternoon.

  Thepoor young man attended at dinneras usual; but his heart wastoo muchloaded to suffer him to eat. His grief too was a good dealaggravatedby the unkind looks of Mr. Allworthy; whence he concludedthatWestern had discovered the whole affair between him and Sophia;but as toMr. Blifil's storyhe had not the least apprehension; forof muchthe greater part he was entirely innocent; and for theresidueas he had forgiven and forgotten it himselfso hesuspectedno remembrance on the other side. When dinner was overand theservants departedMr. Allworthy began to harangue. He setforthina long speechthe many iniquities of which Jones had beenguiltyparticularly those which this day had brought to light; andconcludedby telling him"That unless he could clear himself of thechargehewas resolved to banish him his sight for ever."

 Many disadvantages attended poor Jones in making his defence; nayindeedhehardly knew his accusation; for as Mr. Allworthyinrecountingthe drunkenness&c.while he lay illout of modesty sunkeverythingthat related particularly to himselfwhich indeedprincipallyconstituted the crime; Jones could not deny the charge.His heartwasbesidesalmost broken already; and his spirits were sosunkthathe could say nothing for himself; but acknowledge thewholeandlike a criminal in despairthrew himself upon mercy;concluding"That though he must own himself guilty of many folliesandinadvertencieshe hoped he had done nothing to deserve what wouldbe to himthe greatest punishment in the world."

 Allworthy answered"That he had forgiven him too often alreadyincompassion to his youthand in hopes of his amendment: that he nowfound hewas an abandoned reprobateand such as it would becriminalin any one to support and encourage. Nay" said Mr. Allworthyto him"your audacious attempt to steal away the young ladycallsupon me tojustify my own character in punishing you. The world whohavealready censured the regard I have shown for you may thinkwith somecolour at least of justicethat I connive at so base andbarbarousan action- an action of which you must have known myabhorrence:and whichhad you had any concern for my ease and honouras well asfor my friendshipyou would never have thought ofundertaking.Fie upon ityoung man! indeed there is scarce anypunishmentequal to your crimesand I can scarce think myselfjustifiablein what I am now going to bestow on you. Howeveras Ihaveeducated you like a child of my ownI will not turn you nakedinto theworld. When you open this paperthereforeyou will findsomethingwhich may enable youwith industryto get an honestlivelihood;but if you employ it to worse purposesI shall notthinkmyself obliged to supply you fartherbeing resolvedfromthis dayforwardto converse no more with you on any account. Icannotavoid sayingthere is no part of your conduct which I resentmore thanyour ill-treatment of that good young man (meaning Blifil)who hathbehaved with so much tenderness and honour towards you."

 These last words were a dose almost too bitter to be swallowed. Aflood oftears now gushed from the eyes of Jonesand every faculty ofspeech andmotion seemed to have deserted him. It was some time beforehe wasable to obey Allworthy's peremptory commands of departing;which heat length didhaving first kissed his hands with a passiondifficultto be affectedand as difficult to be described.

  Thereader must be very weakifwhen he considers the light inwhichJones then appeared to Mr. Allworthyhe should blame the rigourof hissentence. And yet all the neighbourhoodeither from thisweaknessor from some worse motivecondemned this justice andseverityas the highest cruelty. Naythe very persons who hadbeforecensured the good man for the kindness and tenderness shownto abastard (his ownaccording to the general opinion)now criedout asloudly against turning his own child out of doors. The womenespeciallywere unanimous in taking the part of Jonesand raised morestories onthe occasion than I have roomin this chapterto setdown.

  Onething must not be omittedthatin their censures on thisoccasionnone ever mentioned the sum contained in the paper whichAllworthygave Joneswhich was no less than five hundred pounds;but allagreed that he was sent away pennilessand some said nakedfrom thehouse of his inhuman father.

Chapter12
Containinglove-lettersetc.

 Jones was commanded to leave the house immediatelyand toldthathisclothes and everything else should be sent to him whithersoever heshouldorder them.

  Heaccordingly set outand walked above a milenot regardingand indeedscarce knowingwhither he went. At length a little brookobstructinghis passagehe threw himself down by the side of it;nor couldhe help muttering with some little indignation"Sure myfatherwill not deny me this place to rest in!"

 Here he presently fell into the most violent agoniestearing hishair fromhis headand using most other actions which generallyaccompanyfits of madnessrageand despair.

 When he had in this manner vented the first emotions of passionhe beganto come a little to himself. His grief now took another turnanddischarged itself in a gentler waytill he became at last coolenough toreason with his passionand to consider what steps wereproper tobe taken in his deplorable condition.

  Andnow the great doubt washow to act with regard to Sophia. Thethoughtsof leaving her almost rent his heart asunder; but theconsiderationof reducing her to ruin and beggary still racked himifpossiblemore; and if the violent desire of possessing her personcould haveinduced him to listen one moment to this alternativestillhe was byno means certain of her resolution to indulge his wishesat so highan expense. The resentment of Mr. Allworthyand the injuryhe must doto his quietargued strongly against this latter; andlastlythe apparent impossibility of his successeven if he wouldsacrificeall these considerations to itcame to his assistance;and thushonour at last backed with despairwith gratitude to hisbenefactorsand with real love to his mistressgot the better ofburningdesireand he resolved rather to quit Sophiathan pursue herto herruin.

  Itis difficult for any who have not felt itto conceive theglowingwarmth which filled his breast on the first contemplation ofthisvictory over his passion. Pride flattered him so agreeablythat hismind perhaps enjoyed perfect happiness; but this was onlymomentary:Sophia soon returned to his imaginationand allayed thejoy of histriumph with no less bitter pangs than a good-naturedgeneralmust feelwhen he surveys the bleeding heapsat the price ofwhoseblood he hath purchased his laurels; for thousands of tenderideas laymurdered before our conqueror.

 Being resolvedhoweverto pursue the paths of this giant honouras thegigantic poet Lee calls ithe determined to write a farewellletter toSophia; and accordingly proceeded to a house not far offwherebeing furnished with proper materialshe wrote as follows:-

 MADAM-

 When you reflect on the situation in which I writeI am sure yourgood-naturewill pardon any inconsistency or absurdity which my lettercontains;for everything here flows from a heart so fullthat nolanguagecan express its dictates.

  Ihave resolvedmadamto obey your commandsin flying for everfrom yourdearyour lovely sight. Cruel indeed those commands are;but it isa cruelty which proceeds from fortunenot from my Sophia.Fortunehath made it necessarynecessary to your preservationtoforgetthere ever was such a wretch as I am.

 Believe meI would not hint all my sufferings to youif I imaginedthey couldpossibly escape your ears. I know the goodness andtendernessof your heartand would avoid giving you any of thosepainswhich you always feel for the miserable. O let nothingwhichyou shallhear of my hard fortunecause a moment's concern; forafter theloss of youeverything is to me a trifle.

  OSophia! it is hard to leave you; it is harder still to desireyou toforget me; yet the sincerest love obliges me to both. Pardon myconceivingthat any remembrance of me can give you disquiet; but ifI am sogloriously wretchedsacrifice me every way to your relief.Think Inever loved you; or think truly how little I deserve you;and learnto scorn me for a presumption which can never be tooseverelypunished.- I am unable to say more.- May guardian angelsprotectyou for ever!

  Hewas now searching his pockets for his waxbut found nonenorindeedanything elsetherein; for in truth he hadin his franticdispositiontossed everything from himand amongst the resthispocket-bookwhich he had received from Mr. Allworthywhich he hadneveropenedand which now first occurred to his memory.

  Thehouse supplied him with a wafer for his present purposewithwhichhaving sealed his letterhe returned hastily towards the brooksideinorder to search for the things which he had there lost. Inhis way hemet his old friend Black Georgewho heartily condoled withhim on hismisfortune; for this had already reached his earsandindeedthose of all the neighbourhood.

 Jones acquainted the gamekeeper with his lossand he as readilywent backwith him to the brookwhere they searched every tuft ofgrass inthe meadowas well where Jones had not been as where hehad been;but all to no purposefor they found nothing; forindeedthough the things were then in the meadowthey omitted tosearch theonly place where they were deposited; to witin thepockets ofthe said George; for he had just before found themandbeingluckily apprized of their value. had very carefully put themup for hisown use.

  Thegamekeeper having exerted as much diligence in quest of the lostgoodsasif he had hoped to find themdesired Mr. Jones to recollectif he hadbeen in no other place: "For sure" said he"if youhadlost themhere so latelythe things must have been here still; forthis is avery unlikely place for any one to pass by." And indeed itwas bygreat accident that he himself had passed through that fieldin orderto lay wires for hareswith which he was to supply apoultererat Bath the next morning.

 Jones now gave over all hopes of recovering his lossand almost allthoughtsconcerning itand turning to Black Georgeasked himearnestlyif he would do him the greatest favour in the world?

 George answered with some hesitation"Siryou know you maycommandmewhatever is in my powerand I heartily wish it was in my powerto do youany service." In factthe question staggered him; for hehadbyselling gameamassed a pretty good sum of money in Mr.Western'sserviceand was afraid that Jones wanted to borrow somesmallmatter of him; but he was presently relieved from his anxietyby beingdesired to convey a letter to Sophiawhich with greatpleasurehe promised to do. And indeed I believe there are few favourswhich hewould not have gladly conferred on Mr. Jones; for he boreas muchgratitude towards him as he couldand was as honest as menwho lovemoney better than any other thing in the universegenerallyare.

 Mrs. Honour was agreed by both to be the proper means by whichthisletter should pass to Sophia. They then separated; the gamekeeperreturnedhome to Mr. Western'sand Jones walked to an alehouse athalf amile's distanceto wait for his messenger's return.

 George no sooner came home to his master's house than he met withMrs.Honour; to whomhaving first sounded her with a few previousquestionshe delivered the letter for her mistressand received atthe sametime another from herfor Mr. Jones; which Honour told himshe hadcarried all that day in her bosomand began to despair offindingany means of delivering it.

  Thegamekeeper returned hastily and joyfully to JoneswhohavingreceivedSophia's letter from himinstantly withdrewand eagerlybreakingit openread as follows:-

 SIR-

  Itis impossible to express what I have felt since I saw you. Yoursubmittingon my accountto such cruel insults from my fatherlays meunder an obligation I shall ever own. As you know histemperIbeg you willfor my sakeavoid him. I wish I had anycomfort tosend you; but believe thisthat nothing but the lastviolenceshall ever give my hand or heart where you would be sorryto seethem bestowed.

 Jones read this letter a hundred times overand kissed it a hundredtimes asoften. His passion now brought all tender desires back intohis mind.He repented that he had writ to Sophia in the manner we haveseenabove; but he repented more that he had made use of theintervalof his messenger's absence to write and dispatch a letterto Mr.Allworthyin which he had faithfully promised and boundhimself toquit all thoughts of his love. Howeverwhen his coolreflectionsreturnedhe plainly perceived that his case was neithermended noraltered by Sophia's billetunless to give him somelittleglimpse of hopefrom her constancyof some favourableaccidenthereafter. He therefore resumed his resolutionand takingleave ofBlack Georgeset forward to a town about five miles distantwhither hehad desired Mr. Allworthyunless he pleased to revokehissentenceto send his things after him.

Chapter13
Thebehaviour of Sophia on the present occasion; which none of hersex willblamewho are capable of behaving in the same manner. Andthediscussion of a knotty point in the court of conscience

 Sophia had passed the last twenty-four hours in no very desirablemanner.During a large part of them she had been entertained by heraunt withlectures of prudencerecommending to her the example of thepoliteworldwhere love (so the good lady said) is at presententirelylaughed atand where women consider matrimonyas men dooffices ofpublic trustonly as the means of making their fortunesand ofadvancing themselves in the world. In commenting on whichtext Mrs.Western had displayed her eloquence during several hours.

 These sagacious lecturesthough little suited either to the tasteorinclination of Sophiawerehoweverless irksome to her thanher ownthoughtsthat formed the entertainment of the nightduringwhich shenever once closed her eyes.

  Butthough she could neither sleep nor rest in her bedyethaving noavocation from itshe was found there by her father athis returnfrom Allworthy'swhich was not till past ten o'clock inthemorning. He went directly up to her apartmentopened the doorand seeingshe was not upcried"Oh! you are safe thenand I amresolvedto keep you so." He then locked the doorand delivered thekey toHonourhaving first given her the strictest chargewith greatpromisesof rewards for her fidelityand most dreadful menaces ofpunishmentin case should betray her trust.

 Honour's orders werenot to suffer her mistress to come out ofher roomwithout the authority of the squire himselfand to admitnone toher but him and her aunt; but she was herself to attend herwithwhatever Sophia pleasedexcept only peninkand paperofwhich shewas forbidden the use.

  Thesquire ordered his daughter to dress herself and attend him atdinner;which she obeyed; and having sat the usual timewas againconductedto her prison.

  Inthe evening the gaoler Honour brought her the letter which shereceivedfrom the gamekeeper. Sophia read it very attentively twice orthriceoverand then threw herself upon the bedand burst into aflood oftears. Mrs. Honour expressed great astonishment at thisbehaviourin her mistress; nor could she forbear very eagerlybegging toknow the cause of this passion. Sophia made her no answerfor sometimeand thenstarting suddenly upcaught her maid bythe handand cried"O Honour! I am undone."

"Marry forbid"criesHonour: "Iwish the letter had been burnt before I had brought it toyourla'ship. I'm sure I thought it would have comforted your la'shipor I wouldhave seen it at the devil before I would have touchedit."

"Honour" says Sophia"you are a good girland it isvain toattemptconcealing longer my weakness from you; I have thrown awaymy hearton a man who hath forsaken me."

"And is Mr. Jones"answeredthe maid"such a perfidy man?"

"He hath taken hisleave ofme"says Sophia"for ever in that letter. Nayhe hath desired metoforgethim. Could he have desired that if he had loved me? Could hehave bornesuch a thought? Could he have written such a word?"

"Nocertainlyma'am" cries Honour; "and to be sureif the best man inEnglandwas to desire me to forget himI'd take him at his word.Marrycome up! I am sure your la'ship hath done him too much honourever tothink on him;- a young lady who may take her choice of allthe youngmen in the country. And to be sureif I may be sopresumptuousas to offer my poor opinionthere is young Mr. Blifilwhobesides that he is come of honest parentsand will be one of thegreatestsquires all hereaboutshe is to be surein my poor opiniona morehandsomer and a more politer man by half; and besideshe isa younggentleman of a sober characterand who may defy any of theneighboursto say black is his eye; he follows no dirty trollopsnor canany bastards be laid at his door. Forget himindeed! IthankHeaven I myself am not so much at my last prayers as to sufferany man tobid me forget him twice. If the best he that wears a headwas for togo for to offer to say such an affronting word to meIwouldnever give him my company afterwardsif there was another youngman in thekingdom. And as I was a sayingto be surethere isyoung Mr.Blifil."

"Name not his detested name" cries Sophia."Nayma'am"says Honour"if your la'ship doth not like himthere be morejollyhandsome young men that would court your la'shipif they hadbut theleast encouragement. I don't believe there is arrow younggentlemanin this countyor in the next to itthat if your la'shipwas but tolook as if you had a mind to himwould not come about tomake hisoffers directly."

"What a wretch dost thou imagine me"criesSophia"by affronting my ears with such stuff! I all detest allmankind."

"Nayto be surema'am" answered Honour"yourla'shiphath hadenough to give you a surfeit of them. To be used ill bysuch apoorbeggarlybastardly fellow."

"Hold your blasphemoustongue"cries Sophia: "how dare you mention his name withdisrespectbefore me? He use me ill? Nohis poor bleeding heartsufferedmore when he writ the cruel words than mine from readingthem. O!he is all heroic virtue and angelic goodness. I am ashamed oftheweakness of my own passionfor blaming what I ought to admire.O Honour!it is my good only which he consults. To my interest hesacrificesboth himself and me. The apprehension of ruining me hathdriven himto despair."

"I am very glad" says Honourto hearyourla'shiptakes that into your consideration; for to be sureit must benothingless than ruin to give your mind to one that is turned outof doorsand is not worth a farthing in the world."

"Turned out ofdoors! "cries Sophia hastily: "how! what dost thou mean?"

"Whyto besurema'ammy master no sooner told Squire Allworthy about Mr. Joneshavingoffered to make love to your la'ship than the squire strippedhim starknakedand turned him out of doors!"

"Ha!" saysSophia"Ihave beenthe cursedwretched cause of his destruction! Turnednaked outof doors! HereHonourtake all the money I have; takethe ringsfrom my fingers. Heremy watch: carry him all. Go findhimimmediately."

"For Heaven's sakema'am" answeredMrs. Honour"dobut considerif my master should miss any of these thingsIshould bemade to answer for them. Therefore let me beg your la'shipnot topart with your watch and jewels. Besidesthe moneyI thinkis enoughof all conscience; and as for thatmy master can never knowanythingof the matter."

"Herethen" cries Sophia"takeeveryfarthing Iam worthfind him out immediatelyand give it him. Gogolosenot a moment."

 Mrs. Honour departed according to ordersand finding Black Georgebelow-stairsdelivered him the pursewhich contained sixteenguineasbeingindeedthe whole stock of Sophia; for though herfather wasvery liberal to hershe was much too generous to be rich.

 Black George having received the purseset forward towards thealehouse;but in the way a thought occurred to himwhether heshould notdetain this money likewise. His consciencehoweverimmediatelystarted at this suggestionand began to upbraid himwithingratitude to his benefactor. To this his avarice answeredThathisconscience should have considered the matter beforewhen hedeprivedpoor Jones of his L500. That having quietly acquiesced inwhat wasof so much greater importanceit was absurdif notdownrighthypocrisyto affect any qualms at this trifle. In return towhichConsciencelike a good lawyerattempted to distinguishbetween anabsolute breach of trustas herewhere the goods weredeliveredand a bare concealment of what was foundas in theformercase. Avarice presently treated this with ridiculecalled it adistinctionwithout a differenceand absolutely insisted that whenonce allpretensions of honour and virtue were given up in any oneinstancethat there was no precedent for resorting to them upon asecondoccasion. In shortpoor Conscience had certainly been defeatedin theargumenthad not Fear stept in to her assistanceand verystrenuouslyurged that the real distinction between the two actionsdid notlie in the different degrees of honour but of safety: for thatthesecreting the L500 was a matter of very little hazard; whereas thedetainingthe sixteen guineas was liable to the utmost danger ofdiscovery.

  Bythis friendly aid of FearConscience obtained a compleat victoryin themind of Black Georgeandafter making him a few complimentson hishonestyforced him to deliver the money to Jones.

Chapter14
A shortchaptercontaining a short dialogue between SquireWesternand his sister

 Mrs. Western had been engaged abroad all that day. The squire mether at herreturn home; and when she enquired after Sophiaheacquaintedher that he had secured her safe enough. "She is lockedup inchamber" cries he"and Honour keeps the key." As hislookswere fullof prodigious wisdom and sagacity when he gave his sisterthisinformationit is probable he expected much applause from herfor whathe had done; but how was he disappointed whenwith a mostdisdainfulaspectshe cried"Surebrotheryou are the weakest ofall men.Why will you not confide in me for the management of myniece? Whywill you interpose? You have now undone all that I havebeenspending my breath in order to bring about. While I have beenendeavouringto fill her mind with maxims of prudenceyou have beenprovokingher to reject them. English womenbrotherI thankheavenare no slaves. We are not to be locked up like the Spanish andItalianwives. We have as good a right to liberty as yourselves. Weare to beconvinced by reason and persuasion onlyand not governed byforce. Ihave seen the worldbrotherand know what arguments to makeuse of;and if your folly had not prevented meshould haveprevailedwith her to form her conduct by those rules of prudenceanddiscretion which I formerly taught her."

"To be sure"said thesquire"Iam always in the wrong."

"Brother" answered the lady"youare not inthe wrongunless when you meddle with matters beyondyourknowledge. You must agree that I have seen most of the world; andhappy hadit been for my niece if she had not been taken from under mycare. Itis by living at home with you that she hath learnt romanticnotions oflove and nonsense."

"You don't imagineI hope" criesthesquire"that I have taught her any such things."

"Yourignorancebrother"returned she"as the great Milton saysalmost subdues mypatience."

"D--n Milton!" answered the squire: "if he had theimpudenceto say so to my faceI'd lend him a dousethof he wasnever sogreat a man. Patience! An you come to thatsisterI havemoreoccasion of patienceto be used like an overgrown schoolboyas I am byyou. Do you think no one hath any understandingunlesshe hathbeen about at court? Pox! the world is come to a fine passindeedifwe are all foolsexcept a parcel of roundheads and Hanoverrats. Pox!I hope the times are a coming when we shall make fools ofthemandevery man shall enjoy his own. That's allsister; and everyman shallenjoy his own. I hope to zee itsisterbefore theHanoverrats have eat up all our cornand left us nothing but turnepsto feedupon."

"I protestbrother" cries she"you arenow gotbeyond myunderstanding. Your jargon of turneps and Hanover rats is tomeperfectly unintelligible."

"I believe"' cries he"you don't careto hearo'em; but the country interest may succeed one day or otherfor allthat."

"I wish" answered the lady"you wouldthink alittle ofyour daughter's interest; forbelieve meshe is in greaterdangerthan the nation."

"Just now" said he"you chidme forthinkingon herand would ha' her left to you."

"And if you willpromise tointerpose no more" answered she"I willout of my regardto mynieceundertake the charge."

"Welldo then" saidthesquire"for you know I always agreedthat women are the properest tomanagewomen."

 Mrs. Western then departedmuttering something with an air ofdisdainconcerning women and management of the nation. Sheimmediatelyrepaired to Sophia's apartmentwho was nowafter a day'sconfinementreleased again from her captivity.

BOOK VIICONTAININGTHREE DAYS

Chapter1
Acomparison between the world and the stage

  Theworld hath often compared to the theatre; and many gravewritersas well as the poetshave considered human life as a greatdramaresemblingin almost every particularthose scenicalrepresentationswhich Thespis is first reported to have inventedand whichhave been since received with so much approbation anddelight inall polite countries.

 This thought hath been carried so farand is become so generalthat somewords proper to the theatreand which were at firstmetaphoricallyapplied to the worldare now indiscriminately andliterallyspoken of both; thus stage and scene are by common use grownasfamiliar to uswhen we speak of life in general aswhen weconfineourselves to dramatic performances: and when transactionsbehind thecurtain are mentionedSt. James's is more likely tooccur toour thoughts than Drurylane.

  Itmay seem easy enough to account for all thisby reflectingthat thetheatrical stage is nothing more than a representationorasAristotle calls itan imitation of what really exists; andhenceperhapswe might fairly pay a very high compliment to thosewho bytheir writings or actions have been so capable of imitatinglifeasto have their pictures in a manner confounded withormistakenforthe originals.

 Butin realitywe are not so fond of paying compliments to thesepeoplewhom we use as children frequently do the instruments of theiramusement;and have much more pleasure in hissing and buffetingthemthanin admiring their excellence. There are many otherreasonswhich have induced us to see this analogy between the worldand thestage.

 Some have considered the larger part of mankind in the light ofactorsaspersonating characters no more their ownand to which infact theyhave no better titlethan the player hath to be inearnestthought the king or emperor whom he represents. Thus thehypocritemay be said to be a player; and indeed the Greeks calledthem bothby one and the same name.

  Thebrevity of life hath likewise given occasion to this comparison.So theimmortal Shakespear-

    ----Life's a poor player
    That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
    And then is heard no more.

For whichhackneyed quotation I will make the reader amends by avery nobleonewhich fewI believehave read. It is taken from apoemcalled the Deitypublished about nine years agoand longsinceburied in oblivion; a proof that good booksno more than goodmendoalways survive the bad.

    From Thee all human actions take their springs
    The rise of empires and the fall of kings!
    See the vast Theatre of Time display'd
    While o'er the scene succeeding heroes tread!
    With pomp the shining images succeed
    What leaders triumphand what monarchs bleed!
    Perform the party thy providence assign'd
    Their pridetheir passionsto thy ends inclin'd:
    Awhile they glitter in the face of day
    Then at thy nod the phantoms pass away;
    No traces left of all the busy scene
    But that remembrance says- The things have been!

  Inall thesehoweverand in every other similitude of life tothetheatrethe resemblance hath been always taken from the stageonly.Noneas I rememberHave at all considered the audience at thisgreatdrama.

  Butas Nature often exhibits some of her best performances to a veryfullhouseso will the behaviour of her spectators no less admittheabove-mentioned comparison than that of her actors. In this vasttheatre oftime are seated the friend and the critic; here are clapsandshoutshisses and groans; in shorteverything which was everseen orheard at the Theatre-Royal.

  Letus examine this in one example; for instancein the behaviourof thegreat audience on that scene which Nature was pleased toexhibit inthe twelfth chapter of the preceding bookwhere sheintroducedBlack George running away with the L500 from his friend andbenefactor.

 Those who sat in the world's upper gallery treated that incidentI am wellconvincedwith their usual vociferation; and every termofscurrilous reproach was most probably vented on that occasion.

  Ifwe had descended to the next order of spectatorswe shouldhave foundan equal degree of abhorrencethough less of noise andscurrility;yet here the good women gave Black George to the deviland manyof them expected every minute that the cloven-footedgentlemanwould fetch his own.

  Thepitas usualwas no doubt divided; those who delight in heroicvirtue andperfect character objected to the producing suchinstancesof villanywithout punishing them very severely for thesake ofexample. Some of the author's friends cryed"Look'egentlementhe man is a villainbut it is nature for all that." Andall theyoung critics of the agethe clerksapprentices&c.calledit lowand fell a groaning.

  Asfor the boxesthey behaved with their accustomed politeness.Most ofthem were attending to something else. Some of those few whoregardedthe scene at alldeclared he was a bad kind of man; whileothersrefused to give their opiniontill they had heard that ofthe bestjudges.

  Nowwewho are admitted behind the scenes of this great theatreof Nature(and no author ought to write anything besidesdictionariesand spelling-books who hath not this privilege)cancensurethe actionwithout conceiving any absolute detestation of thepersonwhom perhaps Nature may not have designed to act an ill partin all herdramas; for in this instance life most exactly resemblesthe stagesince it is often the same person who represents thevillainand the heroe; and he who engages your admiration to-daywillprobably attract your contempt tomorrow. As Garrickwhom Iregard intragedy to be the greatest genius the world hath everproducedsometimes condescends to play the fool; so did Scipio theGreatandLaelius the Wiseaccording to Horacemany years ago; nayCiceroreports them to have been "incredibly childish." Theseitistrueplayed the foollike my friend Garrickin jest only; butseveraleminent characters havein numberless instances of theirlivesplayed the fool egregiously in earnest; so far as to renderit amatter of some doubt whether their wisdom or folly waspredominant;or whether they were better intitled to the applause orcensurethe admiration or contemptthe love or hatredof mankind.

 Those personsindeedwho have passed any time behind the scenes ofthis greattheatreand are thoroughly acquainted not only with theseveraldisguises which are there put onbut also with thefantasticand capricious behaviour of the Passionswho are themanagersand directors of this theatre (for as to Reasonthepatenteehe is known to be a very idle fellow and seldom to exerthimself)may most probably have learned to understand the famousniladmirari of Horaceor in the English phraseto stare at nothing.

  Asingle bad act no more constitutes a villain in lifethan asingle badpart on the stage. The passionslike the managers of aplayhouseoften force men upon parts without consulting theirjudgmentand sometimes without any regard to their talents. Thusthe manas well as the playermay condemn what he himself acts; nayit iscommon to see vice sit as awkwardly on some menas thecharacterof Iago would on the honest face of Mr. William Mills.

 Upon the wholethenthe man of candour and of true understandingis neverhasty to condemn. He can censure an imperfectionor even avicewithout rage against the guilty party. In a wordthey are thesamefollythe same childishnessthe same ill-breedingand the sameill-naturewhich raise all the clamours and uproars both in lifeand on thestage. The worst of men generally have the words rogueandvillain most in their mouthsas the lowest of all wretches arethe aptestto cry out low in the pit.

Chapter2
Containinga conversation which Mr. Jones had with himself

 Jones received his effects from Mr. Allworthy's early in themorningwith the following answer to his letter:-

 SIR-

  Iam commanded by my uncle to acquaint youthat as he did notproceed tothose measures he had taken with youwithout thegreatestdeliberationand after the fullest evidence of yourunworthinessso will it be always out of your power to cause theleastalteration in his resolution. He expresses great surprize atyourpresumption in saying you have resigned all pretensions to ayoungladyto whom it is impossible you should ever have had anyherbirth andfortune having made her so infinitely your superior. LastlyI amcommanded to tell youthat the only instance of yourcompliancewith my uncle's inclinations which he requiresisyourimmediatelyquitting this country. I cannot conclude this withoutofferingyou my adviceas a Christianthat you would seriously thinkofamending your life. That you may be assisted with grace so to dowill bealways the prayer of
Your humble servant
W. BLIFIL

 Many contending passions were raised in our heroe's mind by thisletter;but the tender prevailed at last over the indignant andirascibleand a flood of tears came seasonably to his assistanceandpossiblyprevented his misfortunes from either turning his headorburstinghis heart.

  Hegrewhoweversoon ashamed of indulging this remedy; andstartinguphe cried"WellthenI will give Mr. Allworthy the onlyinstancehe requires of my obedience. I will go this moment- butwhither?-whylet Fortune direct; since there is no other who thinksit of anyconsequence what becomes of this wretched personit shallbe amatter of equal indifference to myself. Shall I alone regard whatno other-Ha! have I not reason to think there is another?- one whosevalue isabove that of the whole world!- I mayI must imagine mySophia isnot indifferent to what becomes of me. Shall I then leavethis onlyfriend- and such a friend? Shall I not stay with her?-Where- howcan I stay with her? Have I any hopes of ever seeing herthough shewas as desirous as myselfwithout exposing her to thewrath ofher fatherand to what purpose? Can I think of solicitingsuch acreature to consent to her own ruin? Shall I indulge anypassion ofmine at such a price? Shall I lurk about this countrylike athiefwith such intentions?- NoI disdainI detest thethought.FarewelSophia; farewelmost lovelymost beloved-" Herepassionstopped his mouthand found a vent at his eyes.

  Andnow having taken a resolution to leave the countryhe beganto debatewith himself whither he should go. The worldas Miltonphrasesitlay all before him; and Jonesno more than Adamhadany man towhom he might resort for comfort or assistance. All hisacquaintancewere the acquaintance of Mr. Allworthy; and he had noreason toexpect any countenance from themas that gentleman hadwithdrawnhis favour from him. Men of great and good characters shouldindeed bevery cautious how they discard their dependents; for theconsequenceto the unhappy sufferer is being discarded by all others.

 What course of life to pursueor to what business to apply himselfwas asecond consideration: and here the prospect was all a melancholyvoid.Every professionand every traderequired length of timeand whatwas worsemoney; for matters are so constitutedthat"nothingout of nothing" is not a truer maxim in physics than inpolitics;and every man who is greatly destitute of moneyis onthataccount entirely excluded from all means of acquiring it.

  Atlast the Oceanthat hospitable friend to the wretchedopenedhercapacious arms to receive him; and he instantly resolved to accepther kindinvitation. To express myself less figurativelyhedeterminedto go to sea.

 This thought indeed no sooner suggested itselfthan he eagerlyembracedit; and having presently hired horseshe set out for Bristolto put itin execution.

  Butbefore we attend him on this expeditionwe shall resortawhile toMr. Western'sand see what further happened to the charmingSophia.

Chapter3
Containingseveral dialogues

  Themorning in which Mr. Jones departedMrs. Western summonedSophiainto her apartment; and having first acquainted her that shehadobtained her liberty of her fathershe proceeded to read her alonglecture on the subject of matrimony; which she treated not as aromanticscheme of happiness arising from loveas it hath beendescribedby the poets; nor did she mention any of those purposesfor whichwe are taught by divines to regard it as instituted bysacredauthority; she considered it rather as a fund in whichprudentwomen deposit their fortunes to the best advantagein orderto receivea larger interest for them than they could have elsewhere.

 When Mrs. Western had finishedSophia answered"That she wasveryincapable of arguing with a lady of her aunt's superior knowledgeandexperienceespecially on a subject which she had so very littleconsideredas this of matrimony."

 "Argue with mechild!" replied the other; "I do notindeed expectit. Ishould have seen the world to very little purpose trulyif I amto arguewith one of your years. I have taken this troublein ordertoinstruct you. The antient philosopherssuch as SocratesAlcibiadesand othersdid not use to argue with their scholars.You are toconsider mechildas Socratesnot asking your opinionbut onlyinforming you of mine." From which last words the readermaypossibly imaginethat this lady had read no more of thephilosophyof Socratesthan she had of that of Alcibiades; and indeedwe cannotresolve his curiosity as to this point.

 "Madam" cries Sophia"I have never presumed tocontrovert anyopinion ofyours; and this subjectas I saidI have never yetthoughtofand perhaps never may."

 "IndeedSophy" replied the aunt"this dissimulationwith me isveryfoolish. The French shall as soon persuade me that they takeforeigntowns in defence only of their own countryas you canimpose onme to believe you have never yet thought seriously ofmatrimony.How can youchildaffect to deny that you have consideredofcontracting an alliancewhen you so well know I am acquainted withthe partywith whom you desire to contract it?- an alliance asunnaturaland contrary to your interestas a separate league withthe Frenchwould be to the interest of the Dutch! But howeverifyou havenot hitherto considered of this matterI promise you it isnow hightimefor my brother is resolved immediately to concludethe treatywith Mr. Blifil; and indeed I am a sort of guarantee in theaffairand have promised your concurrence."

 "Indeedmadam" cries Sophia"this is the onlyinstance in which Imustdisobey both yourself and my father. For this is a match whichrequiresvery little consideration in me to refuse."

  "IfI was not as great philosopher as Socrates himself" returnedMrs.Western"you would overcome my patience. What objection canyou haveto the young gentleman?"

  "Avery solid objectionin my opinion" says Sophia

"I hatehim."

  "Willyou never learn a proper use of words?" answered the aunt."Indeedchildyou should consult Bailey's Dictionary. It isimpossibleyou should hate a man from whom you have received noinjury. Byhatredthereforeyou mean no more than dislikewhichis nosufficient objection against your marrying of him. I haveknown manycoupleswho have entirely disliked each otherlead verycomfortablegenteel lives. Believe mechildI know these thingsbetterthan you. You will allow meI thinkto have seen the worldin which Ihave not an acquaintance who would not rather be thought todislikeher husband than to like him. The contrary is suchout-of-fashionromantic nonsensethat the very imagination of it isshocking."

 "Indeedmadam" replied Sophia"I shall never marrya man Idislike.If I promise my father never to consent to any marriagecontraryto his inclinationsI think I may hope he will never forceme intothat state contrary to my own."

 "Inclinations!" cries the auntwith some warmth."Inclinations! Iamastonished at your assurance. A young woman of your ageandunmarriedto talk of inclinations! But whatever your inclinations maybebrother is resolved; naysince you talk of inclinationsIshalladvise him to hasten the treaty. Inclinations!"

 Sophia then flung herself upon her kneesand tears began to tricklefrom hershining eyes. She entreated her aunt"to have mercy uponherandnot to resent so cruelly her unwillingness to make herselfmiserable;"often urging"that she alone was concernedand thatherhappiness only was at stake."

  Asa bailiffwhen well authorized by his writhaving possessedhimself ofthe person of some unhappy debtorviews all his tearswithoutconcern; in vain the wretched captive attempts to raisecompassion;in vain the tender wife bereft of her companionthelittleprattling boyor frighted girlare mentioned as inducementstoreluctance. The noble bumtrapblind and deaf to every circumstanceofdistressgreatly rises above all the motives to humanityand intothe handsof the gaoler resolves to deliver his miserable prey.

  Notless blind to the tearsor less deaf to every entreaty ofSophia wasthe politic auntnor less determined was she to deliverover thetrembling maid into the arms of the gaoler Blifil. Sheansweredwith great impetuosity"So farmadamfrom your beingconcernedaloneyour concern is the leastor surely the leastimportant.It is the honour of your family which is concerned inthisalliance; you are only the instrument. Do you conceivemistressthat in anintermarriage between kingdomsas when a daughter ofFrance ismarried into Spainthe princess herself is alone consideredin thematch? No! it is a match between two kingdomsrather thanbetweentwo persons. The same happens in great families such asours. Thealliance between the families is the principal matter. Youought tohave a greater regard for the honour of your family thanfor yourown person; and if the example of a princess cannot inspireyou withthese noble thoughtsyou cannot surely complain at beingused noworse than all princesses are used."

  "Ihopemadam" cries Sophiawith a little elevation of voice"Ishall never do anything to dishonour my family; but as for Mr.Blifilwhatever may be the consequenceI am resolved against himand noforce shall prevail in his favour."

 Westernwho had been within hearing during the greater part ofthepreceding dialoguehad now exhausted all his patience; hethereforeentered the room in a violent passioncrying"D--n methen ifshatunt ha'und--n me if shatuntthat's all- that's all;d--n me ifshatunt."

 Mrs. Western had collected a sufficient quantity of wrath for theuse ofSophia; but she now transferred it all to the squire."Brother"said she"it is astonishing that you will interfere in amatterwhich you had totally left to my negotiation. Regard to myfamilyhath made me take upon myself to be the mediating powerinorder torectify those mistakes in policy which you have committedin yourdaughter's education. Forbrotherit is you- it is yourpreposterousconduct which hath eradicated all the seeds that I hadformerlysown in her tender mind. It is you yourself who have taughtherdisobedience."

"Blood!" cries the squirefoaming atthe mouth"youare enough to conquer the patience of the devil! Have I evertaught mydaughter disobedience?- Here she stands; speak honestlygirldidever I bid you be disobedient to me? Have not I doneeverythingto humour and to gratify youand to make you obedient tome? Andvery obedient to me she was when a little childbefore youtook herin hand and spoiled herby filling her head with a pack ofcourtnotions. Why- why- why- did I not overhear you telling her shemustbehave like a princess? You have made a Whig of the girl; and howshould herfatheror anybody elseexpect any obedience fromher?"

"Brother" answered Mrs. Westernwith an air of greatdisdain"I cannot express the contempt I have for your politics ofall kinds;but I will appeal likewise to the young lady herselfwhether Ihave ever taught her any principles of disobedience. Onthecontraryniecehave I not endeavoured to inspire you with a trueidea ofthe several relations in which a human creature stands insociety?Have I not taken infinite pains to show youthat the lawof naturehath enjoined a duty on children to their parents? Have Inot toldyou what Plato says on that subject?- a subject on which youwas sonotoriously ignorant when you came first under my carethatI verilybelieve you did not know the relation between a daughterand afather."

"'Tis a lie" answered Western. "Thegirl is no suchfoolasto live to eleven years old without knowing that she washerfather's relation."

"O! more than Gothic ignorance"answeredthe lady."And as for your mannersbrotherI must tell youtheydeserve acane."

"Why then you may gi' it meif you think you areable"cries the squire; "nayI suppose your niece there will bereadyenough to help you."

"Brother" said Mrs. Western"though Idespiseyou beyond expressionyet I shall endure your insolence nolonger; soI desire my coach may be got ready immediatelyfor I amresolvedto leave your house this very morning."

"And a goodriddancetoo" answered he; "I can bear your insolence no longeranyou cometo that. Blood! it is almost enough of itself to make mydaughterundervalue my sensewhen she hears you telling me everyminute youdespise me."

"It is impossibleit is impossible"criesthe aunt;"no one can undervalue such a boor."

"Boar"answered thesquire"Iam no boar; nonor ass; nonor rat neithermadam.Rememberthat- I am no rat. I am a true Englishmanand not of yourHanoverbreedthat have eat up the nation."

"Thou art one ofthosewise men"cries she"whose nonsensical principles have undone thenation; byweakening the hands of our government at homeand bydiscouragingour friends and encouraging our enemies abroad."

"Ho!are youcome back to your politics?" cries the squire: "as forthose Idespisethem as much as I do a f--t." Which last words he accompaniedand gracedwith the very actionwhichof all otherswas the mostproper toit. And whether it was this word or the contempt exprest forherpoliticswhich most affected Mrs. WesternI will notdetermine;but she flew into the most violent rageuttered phrasesimproperto be here relatedand instantly burst out of the house. Nordid herbrother or her niece think proper either to stop or tofollowher; for the one was so much possessed by concernand theother byangerthat they were rendered almost motionless.

  Thesquirehoweversent after his sister the same holloa whichattendsthe departure of a harewhen she is first started beforethehounds. He was indeed a great master of this kind of vociferationand had aholla proper for most occasions in life.

 Women wholike Mrs. Westernknow the worldand have appliedthemselvesto philosophy and politicswould have immediatelyavailedthemselves of the present disposition of Mr. Western's mindbythrowing in a few artful compliments to his understanding at theexpense ofhis absent adversary; but poor Sophia was all simplicity.By whichword we do not intend to insinuate to the readerthat shewas sillywhich is generally understood as a synonymous term withsimple;for she was indeed a most sensible girland her understandingwas of thefirst rate; but she wanted all that useful art whichfemalesconvert to so many good purposes in lifeand whichas itratherarises from the heart than from the headis often the propertyof thesilliest of women.

Chapter4
A pictureof a country gentlewoman taken from the life

  Mr.Western having finished his hollaand taken a little breathbegan tolamentin very pathetic termsthe unfortunate conditionof menwho aresays he"always whipt in by the humours of somed--n'd b-or other. I think I was hard run enough by your mother forone man;but after giving her a dodgehere's another b- follows meupon thefoil; but curse my jacket if I will be run down in thismanner byany o'um."

 Sophia never had a single dispute with her fathertill this unluckyaffair ofBlifilon any accountexcept in defence of her motherwhom shehad loved most tenderlythough she lost her in theeleventhyear of her age. The squireto whom that poor woman had beena faithfulupper-servant all the time of their marriagehadreturnedthat behaviour by making what the world calls a good husband.He veryseldom swore at her (perhaps not above once a week) andnever beather: she had not the least occasion for jealousyand wasperfectmistress of her time; for she was never interrupted by herhusbandwho was engaged all the morning in his field exercisesandall theevening with bottle companions. She scarce indeed ever saw himbut atmeals; where she had the pleasure of carving those dishes whichshe hadbefore attended at the dressing. From these meals sheretiredabout five minutes after the other servantshaving onlystayed todrink "the king over the water." Such wereit seemsMr.Western'sorders; for it was a maxim with himthat women shouldcome inwith the first dishand go out after the first glass.Obedienceto these orders was perhaps no difficult task; for theconversation(if it may be called so) was seldom such as couldentertaina lady. It consisted chiefly of hallowingsingingrelationsof sporting adventuresb-d-yand abuse of womenand ofthegovernment.

 Thesehoweverwere the only seasons when Mr. Western saw his wife;for whenhe repaired to her bedhe was generally so drunk that hecould notsee; and in the sporting season he always rose from herbefore itwas light. Thus was she perfect mistress of her timeandhadbesides a coach and four usually at her command; though unhappilyindeedthe badness of the neighbourhoodand of the roadsmadethis oflittle use; for none who had set much value on their neckswould havepassed through the oneor who had set any value on theirhourswould have visited the other. Now to deal honestly with thereadershe did not make all the return expected to so muchindulgence;for she had been married against her will by a fondfatherthe match having been rather advantageous on her side; for thesquire'sestate was upward of L3000 a yearand her fortune no morethan abare L8000. Hence perhaps she had contracted a littlegloominessof temperfor she was rather a good servant than a goodwife; norhad she always the gratitude to return the extraordinarydegree ofroaring mirthwith which the squire received hereven withagood-humoured smile. She wouldmoreoversometimes interfere withmatterswhich did not concern heras the violent drinking of herhusbandwhich in the gentlest terms she would take some of the fewopportunitieshe gave her of remonstrating against. And once in herlife shevery earnestly entreated him to carry her for two months toLondonwhich he peremptorily denied; naywas angry with his wife fortherequest ever afterbeing well assured that all the husbands inLondon arecuckolds.

  Forthis lastand many other good reasonsWestern at lengthheartilyhated his wife; and as he never concealed this hatredbefore herdeathso he never forgot it afterwards; but whenanythingin the least soured himas a bad scenting dayor adistemperamong his houndsor any other such misfortuneheconstantlyvented his spleen by invectives against the deceasedsaying"If my wife was alive nowshe would be glad of this."

 These invectives he was especially desirous of throwing forth beforeSophia;for as he loved her more than he did any otherso he wasreallyjealous that she had loved her mother better than him. And thisjealousySophia seldom failed of heightening on these occasions; forhe was notcontented with violating her ears with the abuse of hermotherbut endeavoured to force an explicit approbation of all thisabuse;with which desire he never could prevail upon her by anypromise orthreats to comply.

 Hence some of my readers willperhapswonder that the squire hadnot hatedSophia as much as he had hated her mother; but I must informthemthathatred is not the effect of loveeven through the mediumofjealousy. It isindeedvery possible for jealous persons tokill theobjects of their jealousybut not to hate them. Whichsentimentbeing a pretty hard morseland bearing something of the airof aparadoxwe shall leave the reader to chew the cud upon it to theend of thechapter.

Chapter5
Thegenerous behaviour of Sophia towards her aunt

 Sophia kept silence during the foregoing speech of her fathernordid sheonce answer otherwise than with a sigh; but as he understoodnone ofthe languageoras he called itlingo of the eyesso hewas notsatisfied without some further approbation of hissentimentswhich he now demanded of his daughter; telling herin theusual way"he expected she was ready to take the part of everybodyagainsthimas she had always done that of the b- her mother."Sophiaremaining still silenthe cryed out"Whatart dumb? why dostunt speak?Was not thy mother a d--d b- to me? answer me that. WhatI supposeyou despise your father tooand don't think him good enoughto speakto?"

 "For Heaven's sakesir" answered Sophia"do notgive so cruel aturn to mysilence. I am sure I would sooner die than be guilty of anydisrespecttowards you; but how can I venture to speakwhen everyword musteither offend my dear papaor convict me of the blackestingratitudeas well as impiety to the memory of the best of mothers;for suchI am certainmy mamma was always to me?"

 "Andyour auntI supposeis the best of sisters too!" replied thesquire."Will you be so kind as to allow that she is a b-? I mayfairlyinsist upon thatI think?"

 "Indeedsir" says Sophia"I have great obligationsto my aunt.She hathbeen a second mother to me."

 "And a second wife to me too" returned Western; "soyou will takeher parttoo! You won't confess that she hath acted the part of thevilestsister in the world?"

 "Upon my wordsir" cries Sophia"I must belie myheart wickedlyif I did.I know my aunt and you differ very much in your ways ofthinking;but I have heard her a thousand times express the greatestaffectionfor you; and I am convincedso far from her being the worstsister inthe worldthere are very few who love a brother better."

 "The English of all which is" answered the squire"thatI am inthe wrong.Aycertainly. Ayto be sure the woman is in the rightand theman in the wrong always."

 "Pardon mesir" cries Sophia. "I do not say so."

 "What don't you say?" answered the father: "you havethe impudenceto sayshe's in the right: doth it not follow then of course that I amin thewrong? And perhaps I am in the wrong to suffer such aPresbyterianHanoverian b- to come into my house. She may 'dite me ofa plot foranything I knowand give my estate to the government."

  "Sofarsirfrom injuring you or your estate" says Sophia"ifmyaunt haddied yesterdayI am convinced she would have left you herwholefortune."

 Whether Sophia intended it or notI shall not presume to assert;butcertain it isthese last words penetrated very deep into the earsof herfatherand produced a much more sensible effect than all shehad saidbefore. He received the sound with much the same action asa manreceives a bullet in his head. He startedstaggeredand turnedpale.After which he remained silent above a minuteand then began inthefollowing hesitating manner: "Yesterday! she would have left meheresteate yesterday! would she? Why yesterdayof all the days inthe year?I suppose if she dies to-morrowshe will leave it tosomebodyelseand perhaps out of the vamily."

"My auntsir"criesSophia"hath very violent passionsand I can't answer what she maydo undertheir influence."

 "You can't!" returned the father: "and pray who hathbeen theoccasionof putting her into those violent passions? Naywho hathactuallyput her into them? Was not you and she hard at it before Icame intothe room? Besideswas not all our quarrel about you? I havenotquarrelled with sister this many years but upon your account;and nowyou would throw the whole blame upon meas thof I should betheoccasion of her leaving the esteate out o' the vamily. I couldhaveexpected no better indeed; this is like the return you make toall therest of my fondness."

  "Ibeseech you then" cries Sophia"upon my knees I beseechyouifI havebeen the unhappy occasion of this differencethat you willendeavourto make it up with my auntand not suffer her to leave yourhouse inthis violent rage of anger: she is a very good-natured womanand a fewcivil words will satisfy her. Let me entreat yousir."

  "SoI must go and ask pardon for your faultmust I?" answeredWestern."You have lost the hareand I must draw every way to findher again?Indeedif I was certain"- Here he stoptand Sophiathrowingin more entreatiesat length prevailed upon him; so thatafterventing two or three bitter sarcastical expressions againsthisdaughterhe departed as fast as he could to recover his sisterbefore herequipage could be gotten ready.

 Sophia then returned to her chamber of mourningwhere sheindulgedherself (if the phrase may be allowed me) in all the luxuryof tendergrief. She read over more than once the letter which she hadreceivedfrom Jones; her muff too was used on this occasion; and shebathedboth theseas well as herselfwith her tears. In thissituationthe friendly Mrs. Honour exerted her utmost abilities tocomforther afflicted mistress. She ran over the names of many younggentlemen:and having greatly commended their parts and personsassuredSophia that she might take her choice of any. These methodsmust havecertainly been used with some success in disorders of thelike kindor so skilful a practitioner as Mrs. Honour would neverhaveventured to apply them; nayI have heard that the college ofchambermaidshold them to be as sovereign remedies as any in thefemaledispensary; but whether it was that Sophia's disease differedinwardlyfrom those cases with which it agreed in external symptomsIwill notassert; butin factthe good waiting-woman did more harmthan goodand at last so incensed her mistress (which was no easymatter)that with an angry voice she dismissed her from her presence.

Chapter6
Containinggreat variety of matter

  Thesquire overtook his sister just as she was stepping into thecoachandpartly by forceand partly by solicitationsprevailedupon herto order her horses back into their quarters. He succeeded inthisattempt without much difficulty; for the lady wasas we havealreadyhintedof a most placable dispositionand greatly lovedherbrotherthough she despised his partsor rather his littleknowledgeof the world.

 Poor Sophiawho had first set on foot this reconciliationwasnow madethe sacrifice to it. They both concurred in their censures onherconduct; jointly declared war against herand directlyproceededto counselhow to carry it on in the most vigorousmanner.For this purposeMrs. Western proposed not only animmediateconclusion of the treaty with Allworthybut asimmediatelyto carry it into execution; saying"That there was noother wayto succeed with her niecebut by violent methodswhich shewasconvinced Sophia had not sufficient resolution to resist. Byviolent"says she"I mean ratherhasty measures; for as toconfinementor absolute forceno such things must or can beattempted.Our plan must be concerted for a surprizeand not for astorm."

 These matters were resolved onwhen Mr. Blifil came to pay avisit tohis mistress. The squire no sooner heard of his arrivalthanhe steptasideby his sister's adviceto give his daughter ordersfor theproper reception of her lover: which he did with the mostbitterexecrations and denunciations of judgment on her refusal.

  Theimpetuosity of the squire bore down all before him; andSophiaasher aunt very wisely foresawwas not able to resist him.Sheagreedthereforeto see Blifilthough she had scarce spirits orstrengthsufficient to utter her assent. Indeedto give aperemptorydenial to a father whom she so tenderly lovedwas noeasy task.Had this circumstance been out of the casemuch lessresolutionthan what she was really mistress ofwouldperhapshaveserved her; but it is no unusual thing to ascribe those actionsentirelyto fearwhich are in a great measure produced by love.

  Inpursuancethereforeof her father's peremptory commandSophia nowadmitted Mr. Blifil's visit. Scenes like thiswhen paintedat largeaffordas we have observedvery little entertainment tothereader. Herethereforewe shall strictly adhere to a rule ofHorace; bywhich writers are directed to pass over all those matterswhich theydespair of placing in a shining light;- a ruleweconceiveof excellent use as well to the historian as to the poet; andwhichiffollowedmust at least have this good effectthat many agreat evil(for so all great books are called) would thus be reducedto a smallone.

  Itis possible the great art used by Blifil at this interviewwould haveprevailed on Sophia to have made another man in hiscircumstancesher confidentand to have revealed the whole secretof herheart to him; but she had contracted so ill an opinion ofthis younggentlemanthat she was resolved to place no confidencein him;for simplicitywhen set on its guardis often a match forcunning.Her behaviour to himthereforewas entirely forcedandindeedsuch as is generally prescribed to virgins upon the secondformalvisit from one who is appointed for their husband.

  Butthough Blifil declared himself to the squire perfectly satisfiedwith hisreception; yet that gentlemanwhoin company with hissisterhad overheard allwas not so well pleased. He resolvedinpursuanceof the advice of the sage ladyto push matters as forwardaspossible; and addressing himself to his intended son-in-law inthehunting phrasehe criedafter a loud holla"Follow herboyfollowher; run inrun in; that's ithoneys. Deaddeaddead. Neverbebashfulnor stand shall Ishall I? Allworthy and I can finish allmattersbetween us this afternoonand let us ha' the weddingto-morrow."

 Blifil having conveyed the utmost satisfaction into his countenanceanswered"As there is nothingsirin this world which I soeagerlydesire as an alliance with your familyexcept my union withthe mostamiable and deserving Sophiayou may easily imagine howimpatientI must be to see myself in possession of my two highestwishes. IfI have not therefore importuned you on this headyouwillimpute it only to my fear of offending the ladybyendeavouringto hurry on so blessed an event faster than a strictcompliancewith all the rules of decency and decorum will permit.But ifbyyour interestsirshe might be induced to dispense withanyformalities--"

 "Formalities! with a pox!" answered the squire. "Poohall stuff andnonsense!I tell theeshe shall ha' thee to-morrow: you will know theworldbetter hereafterwhen you come to my age. Women never gi' theirconsentmanif they can help it'tis not the fashion. If I hadstayed forher mother's consentI might have been a batchelor to thisday.-- Toherto herco to herthat's ityou jolly dog. I tellthee shatha' her to-morrow morning."

 Blifil suffered himself to be overpowered by the forcible rhetoricof thesquire; and it being agreed that Western should close withAllworthythat very afternoonthe lover departed homehaving firstearnestlybegged that no violence might be offered to the lady by thishasteinthe same manner as a popish inquisitor begs the lay power todo noviolence to the heretic delivered over to itand against whomthe churchhath passed sentence.

 Andto say the truthBlifil had passed sentence against Sophia;forhowever pleased he had declared himself to Western with hisreceptionhe was by no means satisfiedunless it was that he wasconvincedof the hatred and scorn of his mistress: and this hadproducedno less reciprocal hatred and scorn in him. It mayperhapsbe askedWhy then did he not put an immediate end to allfurthercourtship? I answerfor that very reasonas well as forseveralothers equally goodwhich we shall now proceed to open to thereader.

 Though Mr. Blifil was not of the complexion of Jonesnor ready toeat everywoman he saw; yet he was far from being destitute of thatappetitewhich is said to be the common property of all animals.With thishe had likewise that distinguishing tastewhich servesto directmen in their choice of the object or food of their severalappetites;and this taught him to consider Sophia as a mostdeliciousmorselindeed to regard her with the same desires whichan ortolaninspires into the soul of an epicure. Now the agonies whichaffectedthe mind of Sophiarather augmented than impaired herbeauty;for her tears added brightness to her eyesand her breastsrosehigher with her sighs. Indeedno one hath seen beauty in itshighestlustre who hath never seen it in distress. Blifil thereforelooked onthis human ortolan with greater desire than when he viewedher last;nor was his desire at all lessened by the aversion whichhediscovered in her to himself. On the contrarythis served rathertoheighten the pleasure he proposed in rifling her charmsas itaddedtriumph to lust; nayhe had some further viewsfromobtainingthe absolute possession of her personwhich we detest toomuch evento mention; and revenge itself was not without its sharein thegratifications which he promised himself. The rivalling poorJonesandsupplanting him in her affectionsadded another spur tohispursuitand promised another additional rapture to his enjoyment.

 Besides all these viewswhich to some scrupulous persons may seemto savourtoo much of malevolencehe had one prospectwhich fewreaderswill regard with any great abhorrence. And this was the estateof Mr.Western; which was all to be settled on his daughter and herissue; forso extravagant was the affection of that fond parentthatprovidedhis child would but consent to be miserable with thehusband hechosehe cared not at what price he purchased him.

  Forthese reasons Mr. Blifil was so desirous of the match that heintendedto deceive Sophiaby pretending love to her; and todeceiveher father and his own uncleby pretending he was belovedby her. Indoing this he availed himself of the piety of Thwackumwhoheldthatif the end proposed was religious (as surely matrimony is)itmattered not how wicked were the means. As to other occasionsheused toapply the philosophy of Squarewhich taughtthat the end wasimmaterialso that the means were fair and consistent with moralrectitude.To say truththere were few occurrences in life on whichhe couldnot draw advantage from the precepts of one or other of thosegreatmasters.

 Little deceit was indeed necessary to be practised on Mr. Western;whothought the inclinations of his daughter of as littleconsequenceas Blifil himself conceived them to be; but as thesentimentsof Mr. Allworthy were of a very different kindso it wasabsolutelynecessary to impose on him. In thishoweverBlifil was sowellassisted by Westernthat he succeeded without difficulty; for asMr.Allworthy had been assured by her father that Sophia had aproperaffection for Blifiland that all which he had suspectedconcerningJones was entirely falseBlifil had nothing more to dothan toconfirm these assertions; which he did with suchequivocationsthat he preserved a salvo for his conscience; and hadthesatisfaction of conveying a lie to his unclewithout the guilt oftellingone. When he was examined touching the inclinations ofSophia byAllworthywho said"He would on no account be accessary toforcing ayoung lady into a marriage contrary to her own will"; heanswered"That the real sentiments of young ladies were verydifficultto be understood; that her behaviour to him was full asforward ashe wished itand that if he could believe her fathershe hadall the affection for him which any lover could desire. As forJones"said he"whom I am loth to call villainthough his behaviourto yousirsufficiently justifies the appellationhis own vanityor perhapssome wicked viewsmight make him boast of a falsehood; forif therehad been any reality in Miss Western's love to himthegreatnessof her fortune would never have suffered him to desertherasyou are well informed he hath. LastlysirI promise you Iwould notmyselffor any considerationnonot for the wholeworldconsent to marry this young ladyif I was not persuaded shehad allthe passion for me which I desire she should have."

 This excellent method of conveying a falsehood with the heartonlywithout making the tongue guilty of an untruthby the meansofequivocation and imposturehath quieted the conscience of many anotabledeceiver; and yetwhen we consider that it is Omniscienceon whichthese endeavour to imposeit may possibly seem capable ofaffordingonly a very superficial comfort; and that this artful andrefineddistinction between communicating a lieand telling oneishardlyworth the pains it costs them.

 Allworthy was pretty well satisfied with what Mr. Western and Mr.Blifiltold him: and the treaty was nowat the end of two daysconcluded.Nothing then remained previous to the office of the priestbut theoffice of the lawyerswhich threatened to take up so muchtimethatWestern offered to bind himself by all manner of covenantsratherthan defer the happiness of the young couple. Indeedhe was soveryearnest and pressingthat an indifferent person might haveconcludedhe was more a principal in this match than he really was;but thiseagerness was natural to him on all occasions: and heconductedevery scheme he undertook in such a manneras if thesuccess ofthat alone was sufficient to constitute the whole happinessof hislife.

  Thejoint importunities of both father and son-in-law would probablyhaveprevailed on Mr. Allworthywho brooked but ill any delay ofgivinghappiness to othershad not Sophia herself prevented itandtakenmeasures to put a final end to the whole treatyand to rob bothchurch andlaw of those taxes which these wise bodies have thoughtproper toreceive from the propagation of the human species in alawfulmanner. Of which in the next chapter.

Chapter7
A strangeresolution of Sophiaand a more strange stratagem of Mrs.Honour

 Though Mrs. Honour was principally attached to her own interestshewas notwithout some little attachment to Sophia. To say truthit wasverydifficult for any one to know that young lady without loving her.She nosooner therefore heard a piece of newswhich she imagined tobe ofgreat importance to her mistressthanquite forgetting theangerwhich she had conceived two days beforeat her unpleasantdismissionfrom Sophia's presenceshe ran hastily to inform her ofthe news.

 Thebeginning of her discourse was as abrupt as her entrance into theroom. "Odear ma'am!" says she"what doth your la'ship think? To besure I amfrightened out of my wits; and yet I thought it my duty totell yourla'shipthough perhaps it may make you angryfor weservantsdon't always know what will make our ladies angry; forto besureeverything is always laid to the charge of a servant. When ourladies areout of humourto be sure we must be scolded; and to besure Ishould not wonder if your la'ship should be out of humour; nayit mustsurprize you certainlyayand shock you too."

"GoodHonourlet me know it without any longer preface" says Sophia;"thereare few thingsI promise youwhich will surprizeand fewerwhich willshock me."

"Dear ma'am" answered Honour"to besureIoverheardmy master talking to parson Supple about getting a licencethis veryafternoon; and to be sure I heard him sayyour la'shipshould bemarried to-morrow morning." Sophia turned pale at thesewordsandrepeated eagerly"To-morrow morning!"

"Yesma'am"repliedthe trusty waiting-woman"I will take my oath I heard mymaster sayso."

"Honour" says Sophia"you have bothsurprized andshocked meto such a degree that I have scarce any breath or spiritsleft. Whatis to be done in my dreadful situation?"

"I wish I wasable toadvise your la'ship" says she. "Do advise me" criesSophia;"praydear Honouradvise me. Think what you would attempt if itwas yourown case."

"Indeedma'am" cries Honour"Iwish yourla'shipand I could change situations; that isI mean without hurtingyourla'ship; for to be sure I don't wish you so bad as to be aservant;but because that if so be it was my caseI should find nomanner ofdifficulty in it; forin my poor opinionyoung SquireBlifil isa charmingsweethandsome man."

"Don't mention suchstuff"cries Sophia. "Such stuff!" repeated Honour; "whythere.Welltobe surewhat's one man's meat is another man's poisonandthe sameis altogether as true of women."

"Honour" saysSophia"ratherthan submit to be the wife of that contemptible wretchIwouldplunge a dagger into my heart."

"O lud! ma'am!"answered theother"Iam sure you frighten me out of my wits now. Let me beseechyourla'ship not to suffer such wicked thoughts to come into yourhead. Olud! to be sure I tremble every inch of me. Dear ma'amconsiderthat to be denied Christian burialand to have yourcorpseburied in the highwayand a stake drove through youas farmerHalfpennywas served at Ox Cross; andto be surehis ghost hathwalkedthere ever sincefor several people have seen him. To besure itcan be nothing but the devil which can put such wickedthoughtsinto the head of anybody; for certainly it is less wickedto hurtall the world than one's own dear self; and so I have heardsaid bymore parsons than one. If your la'ship hath such a violentaversionand hates the young gentleman so very badthat you can'tbear tothink of going into bed to him; for to be sure there may besuchantipathies in natureand one had lieverer touch a toad than theflesh ofsome people.-

 "Sophia had been too much wrapt in contemplation to pay anygreatattentionto the foregoing excellent discourse of her maid;interruptingher thereforewithout making any answer to itshe said"HonourI am come to a resolution. I am determined to leave myfather'shouse this very night; and if you have the friendship forme whichyou have often professedyou will keep me company."

"ThatI willma'amto the world's end" answered Honour; "but I begyourla'ship toconsider the consequence before you undertake any rashaction.Where can your la'ship possibly go?"

"There is"repliedSophia"alady of quality in Londona relation of minewho spentseveralmonths with my aunt in the country; during all which timeshetreated me with great kindnessand expressed so much pleasurein mycompanythat she earnestly desired my aunt to suffer me to gowith herto London. As she is a woman of very great noteI shalleasilyfind her outand I make no doubt of being very well and kindlyreceivedby her."

"I would not have your la'ship too confident ofthat"cries Honour; "for the first lady I lived with used to invitepeoplevery earnestly to her house; but if she heard afterwards theywerecomingshe used to get out of the way. Besidesthough this ladywould bevery glad to see your la'shipas to be sure anybody would beglad tosee your la'shipyet when she hears your la'ship is run awayfrom mymaster-"

"You are mistakenHonour" says Sophia: "shelooksupon theauthority of a father in a much lower light than I do; forshepressed me violently to go to London with herand when I refusedto gowithout my father's consentshe laughed me to scorncalled mesillycountry girland saidI should make a pure loving wifesinceI could beso dutiful a daughter. So I have no doubt but she will bothreceive meand protect me tootill my fatherfinding me out of hispowercanbe brought to some reason."

 "Wellbutma'am" answered Honour"how doth yourla'ship think ofmakingyour escape? Where will you get any horses or conveyance? Foras foryour own horseas all the servants know a little how mattersstandbetween my master and your la'shipRobin will be hangedbefore hewill suffer it to go out of the stable without my master'sexpressorders."

"I intend to escape" said Sophia"bywalking out ofthe doorswhen they are open. I thank Heaven my legs are very ableto carryme. They have supported me many a long evening after afiddlewith no very agreeable partner; and surely they will assist mein runningfrom so detestable a partner for life."

"Oh Heavenma'am!doth your la'ship know what you are saying?" cries Honour;"wouldyou think of walking about the country by night andalone?"

"Not alone" answered the lady; "you have promised tobearmecompany."

"Yesto be sure" cries Honour"Iwill follow yourla'shipthrough the world; but your la'ship had almost as good bealone: forI should not be able to defend youif any robbersorothervillainsshould meet with youNayI should be in ashorrible afright as your la'ship; for to be certainthey wouldravish usboth. Besidesma'amconsider how cold the nights arenow; weshall be frozen to death."

"A good brisk pace"answeredSophia"will preserve us from the cold; and if you cannot defend mefrom avillainHonourI will defend you; for I will take a pistolwith me.There are two always charged in the hall."

"Dear ma'amyoufrightenme more and more" cries Honour: "sure your la'ship wouldnotventure tofire it off! I had rather run any chance than yourla'shipshould do that."

"Why so?" says Sophiasmiling"would notyouHonourfire a pistol at any one who should attack yourvirtue?"

"To be surema'am" cries Honour"one's virtue is adearthingespecially to us poor servants; for it is our livelihoodasa body maysay: yet I mortally hate fire-arms; for so many accidentshappen bythem."

"Wellwell" says Sophia"I believe Imay ensureyourvirtue at a very cheap ratewithout carrying any arms with us;for Iintend to take horses at the very first town we come toandwe shallhardly be attacked in our way thither. Look'eeHonourIamresolved to go; and if you will attend meI promise you I willreward youto the very utmost of my power."

 This last argument had a stronger effect on Honour than all thepreceding.And since she saw her mistress so determinedshedesistedfrom any further dissuasions. They then entered into a debateon waysand means of executing their project. Here a very stubborndifficultyoccurredand this was the removal of their effectswhich wasmuch more easily got over by the mistress than by themaid; forwhen a lady hath once taken a resolution to run to aloverorto run from himall obstacles are considered as trifles.But Honourwas inspired by no such motive; she had no raptures toexpectnor any terrors to shun; and besides the real value of herclothesin which consisted a great part of her fortuneshe had acapriciousfondness for several gownsand other things; eitherbecausethey became heror because they were given her by such aparticularperson; because she had bought them latelyor becauseshe hadhad long; or for some other reasons equally good; so thatshe couldnot endure the thoughts of leaving the poor things behindherexposed to the mercy of Westernwhoshe doubted notwould inhis ragemake them suffer martyrdom.

  Theingenious Mrs. Honour having applied all her oratory to dissuadehermistress from her purposewhen she found her positivelydeterminedat last started the following expedient to remove herclothesviz.to get herself turned out of doors that very evening.Sophiahighly approved this methodbut doubted how it might bebroughtabout. "Oma'am" cries Honour"your la'ship maytrustthat tome; we servants very well know how to obtain this favour ofourmasters and mistresses; though sometimesindeedwhere they oweus morewages than they can readily paythey will put up with all ouraffrontsand will hardly take any warning we can give them; but thesquire isnone of those; and since your la'ship is resolved uponsettingout to-nightI warrant I get discharged this afternoon." Itwas thenresolved that she should pack up some linen and anight-gownfor Sophiawith her own thingsand as for all her otherclothesthe young lady abandoned them with no more remorse than thesailorfeels when he throws over the goods of othersin order to savehis ownlife.

Chapter8
Containingscenes of altercationof no very uncommon kind

 Mrs. Honour had scarce sooner parted from her young ladythansomething(for I would notlike the old woman in Quevedoinjurethe devilby any false accusationand possibly he might have nohand init)- but somethingI saysuggested itself to herthat bysacrificingSophia and all her secrets to Mr. Westernshe mightprobablymake her fortune. Many considerations urged this discovery.The fairprospect of a handsome reward for so great and acceptable aservice tothe squiretempted her avarice; and againthe danger oftheenterprize she had undertaken; the uncertainty of its success;nightcoldrobbersravishersall alarmed her fears. So forciblydid allthese operate upon herthat she was almost determined to godirectlyto the squireand to lay open the whole affair. She washowevertoo upright a judge to decree on one sidebefore she hadheard theother. And herefirsta journey to London appeared verystronglyin support of Sophia. She eagerly longed to see a place inwhich shefancied charms short only of those which a raptured saintimaginesin heaven. In the next placeas she knew Sophia to have muchmoregenerosity than her masterso her fidelity promised her agreaterreward than she could gain by treachery. She thencross-examinedall the articles which had raised her fears on theothersideand foundon fairly sifting the matterthat there wasverylittle in them. And now both scales being reduced to a prettyevenbalanceher love to her mistress being thrown into the scaleof herintegritymade that rather preponderatewhen a circumstancestruckupon her imagination which might have had a dangerous effecthad itswhole weight been fairly put into the other scale. This wasthe lengthof time which must intervene before Sophia would be able tofulfil herpromises; for though she was intitled to her mother'sfortune atthe death of her fatherand to the sum of L3000 left herby anuncle when she came of age; yet these were distant daysandmanyaccidents might prevent the intended generosity of the younglady;whereas the rewards she might expect from Mr. Western wereimmediate.But while she was pursuing this thought the good geniusof Sophiaor that which presided over the integrity of Mrs. Honouror perhapsmere chancesent an accident in her waywhich at oncepreservedher fidelityand even facilitated the intended business.

 Mrs. Western's maid claimed great superiority over Mrs. Honour onseveralaccounts. Firsther birth was higher; for hergreat-grandmotherby the mother's side was a cousinnot farremovedto an Irish peer. Secondlyher wages were greater. Andlastlyshe had been at Londonand had of consequence seen more ofthe world.She had always behavedthereforeto Mrs. Honour with thatreserveand had always exacted of her those marks of distinctionwhichevery order of females preserves and requires in conversationwith thoseof an inferior order. Now as Honour did not at all timesagree withthis doctrinebut would frequently break in upon therespectwhich the other demandedMrs. Western's maid was not at allpleasedwith her company; indeedshe earnestly longed to returnhome tothe house of her mistresswhere she domineered at will overall theother servants. She had been greatlythereforedisappointedin the morningwhen Mrs. Western had changed her mind onthe verypoint of departure; and had been in what is vulgarly called agloutinghumour ever since.

  Inthis humourwhich was none of the sweetestshe came into theroom whereHonour was debating with herself in the manner we haveaboverelated. Honour no sooner saw herthan she addressed her in thefollowingobliging phrase: "SohmadamI find we are to have thepleasureof your company longerwhich I was afraid the quarrelbetween mymaster and your lady would have robbed us of."

"I don'tknowmadam" answered the other"what you mean by we and us. Iassure youI do not look on any of the servants in this house to bepropercompany for me. I am companyI hopefor their betters everyday in theweek. I do not speak on your accountMrs. Honour; foryou are acivilized young woman; and when you have seen a littlemore ofthe worldI should not be ashamed to walk with you in St.James'sPark."

"Hoity toity!" cries Honour"madam is inher airsIprotest.Mrs. Honourforsooth! suremadamyou might call me by mysir-name;for though my lady calls me HonourI have a sir-name aswell asother folks. Ashamed to walk with mequotha! marryas goodasyourselfI hope."

"Since you make such a return to mycivility"said theother"I must acquaint youMrs. Honourthat you are not sogood asme. In the countryindeedone is obliged to take up with allkind oftrumpery; but in town I visit none but the women of women ofquality.IndeedMrs. Honourthere is some differenceI hopebetweenyou and me."

"I hope so too" answered Honour: "thereissomedifference in our agesand- I think in our persons." Uponspeakingwhich last wordsshe strutted by Mrs. Western's maid withthe mostprovoking air of contempt; turning up her nosetossing herheadandviolently brushing the hoop of her competitor with herown. Theother lady put on one of her most malicious sneersand said"Creature!you are below my anger; and it is beneath me to give illwords tosuch an audacious saucy trollop; buthussyI must tell youyourbreeding shows the meanness of your birth as well as of youreducation;and both very properly qualify you to be the meanserving-womanof a country-girl."

"Don't abuse my lady" criesHonour: "Iwon't take that of you; she's as much better than yours asshe isyoungerand ten thousand times more handsomer."

 Here ill luckor rather good lucksent Mrs. Western to see hermaid intearswhich began to flow plentifully at her approach; and ofwhichbeing asked the reason by her mistressshe presently acquaintedher thather tears were occasioned by the rude treatment of thatcreaturethere- meaning Honour. "Andmadam" continued she"Icouldhavedespised all she said to me; but she hath had the audacity toaffrontyour ladyshipand to call you ugly- Yesmadamshe calledyou uglyold cat to my face. I could not bear to hear your ladyshipcalledugly."

"Why do you repeat her impudence so often?"said Mrs.Western.And then turning to Mrs. Honourshe asked her "How she hadtheassurance to mention her name with disrespect?"

"Disrespectmadam!"answered Honour; "I never mentioned your name at all: I saidsomebodywas not as handsome as my mistressand to be sure you knowthat aswell as I."

"Hussy" replied the ladyI will makesuch asaucytrollop as yourself know that I am not a proper subject ofyourdiscourse. And if my brother doth not discharge you thismomentIwill never sleep in his house again. I will find him outand haveyou discharged this moment."

"Discharged!" criesHonour;"andsuppose I am: there are more places in the world than one. ThankHeavengood servants need not want places; and if you turn away allwho do notthink you handsomeyou will want servants very soon; letme tellyou that."

 Mrs. Western spokeor rather thunderedin answer; but as she washardlyarticulatewe cannot be very certain of the identical words;we shalltherefore omit inserting a speech which at best would notgreatlyredound to her honour. She then departed in search of herbrotherwith a countenance so full of ragethat she resembled one ofthe furiesrather than a human creature.

  Thetwo chambermaids being again left alonebegan a second boutataltercationwhich soon produced a combat of a more active kind. Inthis thevictory belonged to the lady of inferior rankbut notwithoutsome loss of bloodof hairand of lawn and muslin.

Chapter9
The wisedemeanour of Mr. Western in the character of amagistrate.A hint to justices of peaceconcerning the necessaryqualificationsof a clerk; with extraordinary instances of paternalmadnessand filial affection

 Logicians sometimes prove too much by an argumentand politiciansoftenoverreach themselves in a scheme. Thus had it like to havehappenedto Mrs. Honourwhoinstead of recovering the rest of herclotheshad like to have stopped even those she had on her backfromescaping; for the squire no sooner heard of her having abused hissisterthan he swore twenty oaths he would send her to Bridewell.

 Mrs. Western was a very good-natured womanand ordinarily of aforgivingtemper. She had lately remitted the trespass of astage-coachmanwho had overturned her post-chaise into a ditch;nayshehad even broken the lawin refusing to prosecute ahighwaymanwho had robbed hernot only of a sum of moneybut ofherear-rings; at the same time d--ning herand saying"Suchhandsomeb-s as you don't want jewels to set them offand be d--n'dto you."But nowso uncertain are our tempersand so much do we atdifferenttimes differ from ourselvesshe would hear of nomitigations;nor could all the affected penitence of Honournor alltheentreaties of Sophia for her own servantprevail with her todesistfrom earnestly desiring her brother to execute justiceship (forit wasindeed a syllable more than justice) on the wench.

  Butluckily the clerk had a qualificationwhich no clerk to ajustice ofpeace ought ever to be withoutnamelysomeunderstandingin the law of this realm. He therefore whispered inthe ear ofthe justice that he would exceed his authority bycommittingthe girl to Bridewellas there had been no attempt tobreak thepeace; "for I am afraidsir" says he"you cannotlegallycommit any one to Bridewell only for ill-breeding."

  Inmatters of high importanceparticularly in cases relating to thegamethejustice was not always attentive to these admonitions of hisclerk;forindeedin executing the laws under that headmanyjusticesof peace suppose they have a large discretionary powerbyvirtue ofwhichunder the notion of searching for and taking awayenginesfor the destruction of the gamethey often commit trespassesandsometimes felonyat their pleasure.

  Butthis offence was not of quite so high a naturenor so dangerousto thesociety. Herethereforethe justice behaved with someattentionto the advice of his clerk; forin facthe had already hadtwoinformations exhibited against him in the King's Benchand had nocuriosityto try a third.

  Thesquirethereforeputting on a most wise and significantcountenanceafter a preface of several hums and hahstold hissisterthat upon more mature deliberationhe was of opinionthat"asthere was no breaking up of the peacesuch as the law" sayshe"callsbreaking open a dooror breaking a hedgeor breaking aheadorany such sort of breakingthe matter did not amount to afeloniouskind of a thingnor trespassesnor damagesandthereforethere was no punishment in the law for it."

 Mrs. Western said"she knew the law much better; that she hadknownservantsvery severely punished for affronting their masters;" andthen nameda certain justice of the peace in London"who" shesaid"would commit a servant to Bridewell at any time when a masterormistress desired it."

 "Like enough"cries the squire; "it may be so inLondon; but the lawisdifferent in the country." Here followed a very learned disputebetweenthe brother and sister concerning the lawwhich we wouldinsertifwe imagined many of our readers could understand it. Thiswashoweverat length referred by both parties to the clerkwhodecided itin favour of the magistrate; and Mrs. Western wasin theendobliged to content herself with the satisfaction of having Honourturnedaway; to which Sophia herself very readily and cheerfullyconsented.

 Thus Fortuneafter having diverted herselfaccording to customwith twoor three frolicksat last disposed all matters to theadvantageof our heroine; who indeed succeeded admirably well in herdeceitconsidering it was the first she had ever practised. Andtosay thetruthI have often concludedthat the honest part of mankindwould bemuch too hard for the knavishif they could bring themselvesto incurthe guiltor thought it worth their while to take thetrouble.

 Honour acted her part to the utmost perfection. She no sooner sawherselfsecure from all danger of Bridewella word which had raisedmosthorrible ideas in her mindthan she resumed those airs which herterrorsbefore had a little abated; and laid down her placewith asmuchaffectation of contentand indeed of contemptas was everpractisedat the resignation of places of much greater importance.If thereader pleasesthereforewe chuse rather to say sheresigned-which hathindeedbeen always held a synonymousexpressionwith being turned outor turned away.

  Mr.Western ordered her to be very expeditious in packing; for hissisterdeclared she would not sleep another night under the sameroof withso impudent a slut. To work therefore she wentand thatsoearnestlythat everything was ready early in the evening; whenhavingreceived her wagesaway packed bag and baggageto the greatsatisfactionof every onebut of none more than of Sophia; whohavingappointed her maid to meet her at a certain place not farfrom thehouseexactly at the dreadful and ghostly hour of twelvebegan toprepare for her own departure.

  Butfirst she was obliged to give two painful audiencesthe oneto herauntand the other to her father. In these Mrs. Westernherselfbegan to talk to her in a more peremptory stile than before;but herfather treated her in so violent and outrageous a mannerthathefrightened her into an affected compliance with his will; whichso highlypleased the good squirethat he changed his frowns intosmilesand his menaces into promises: he vowed his whole soul waswrapt inhers; that her consent (for so he construed the words"YouknowsirI must notnor canrefuse to obey any absolute command ofyours")had made him the happiest of mankind. He then gave her a largebank-billto dispose of in any trinkets she pleasedand kissed andembracedher in the fondest mannerwhile tears of joy trickled fromthose eyeswhich a few moments before had darted fire and rage againstthe dearobject of all his affection.

 Instances of this behaviour in parents are so commonthat thereaderIdoubt notwill be very little astonished at the wholeconduct ofMr. Western. If he shouldI own I am not able to accountfor it;since that he loved his daughter most tenderlyisI thinkbeyonddispute. So indeed have many otherswho have rendered theirchildrenmost completely miserable by the same conduct; whichthough itis almost universal in parentshath always appeared to meto be themost unaccountable of all the absurdities which ever enteredinto thebrain of that strange prodigious creature man.

  Thelatter part of Mr. Western's behaviour had so strong an effecton thetender heart of Sophiathat it suggested a thought to herwhich notall the sophistry of her politic auntnor all the menacesof herfatherhad ever once brought into her head. She reverenced herfather sopiouslyand loved him so passionatelythat she hadscarceever felt more pleasing sensationsthan what arose from theshare shefrequently had of contributing to his amusementandsometimesperhapsto higher gratifications; for he never couldcontainthe delight of hearing her commendedwhich he had thesatisfactionof hearing almost every day of her life. The ideathereforeof the immense happiness she should convey to her father byherconsent to this matchmade a strong impression on her mind.Againtheextreme piety of such an act of obedience worked veryforciblyas she had a very deep sense of religion. Lastlywhen shereflectedhow much she herself was to sufferbeing indeed to becomelittleless than a sacrificeor a martyrto filial love and dutyshe feltan agreeable tickling in a certain little passionwhichthough itbears no immediate affinity either to religion or virtueisoften sokind as to lend great assistance in executing the purposes ofboth.

 Sophia was charmed with the contemplation of so heroic an actionand beganto compliment herself with much premature flatterywhenCupidwholay hid in her muffsuddenly crept outand likePunchinelloin a puppet-showkicked all out before him. In truth (forwe scornto deceive our readeror to vindicate the character of ourheroine byascribing her actions to supernatural impulse) the thoughtsof herbeloved Jonesand some hopes (however distant) in which he wasveryparticularly concernedimmediately destroyed all which filiallovepietyand pride hadwith their joint endeavoursbeenlabouringto bring about.

  Butbefore we proceed any farther with Sophiawe must now look backto Mr.Jones.

Chapter10
Containingseveral mattersnatural enough perhapsbut low

  Thereader will be pleased to rememberthat we left Mr. Jonesinthebeginning of this bookon his road to Bristol; being determinedto seekhis fortune at seaor ratherindeedto fly away from hisfortune onshore.

  Ithappened (a thing not very unusual)that the guide who undertookto conducthim on his waywas unluckily unacquainted with the road;so thathaving missed his right trackand being ashamed to askinformationhe rambled about backwards and forwards till night cameonand itbegan to grow dark. Jones suspecting what had happenedacquaintedthe guide with his apprehensions; but he insisted on itthat theywere in the right roadand addedit would be verystrange ifhe should not know the road to Bristol; thoughin realityit wouldhave been much stranger if he had known ithaving never pastthrough itin his life before.

 Jones had not such implicit faith in his guidebut that on theirarrival ata village he inquired of the first fellow he sawwhetherthey werein the road to Bristol. "Whence did you come?" cries thefellow."No matter" says Jonesa little hastily; "I want toknowif this bethe road to Bristol?"

"The road to Bristol!" criesthefellowscratching his head: "whymeasterI believe you willhardly getto Bristol this way to-night."

"Pritheefriendthen"answeredJones"do tell us which is the way."

"Whymeaster"criesthefellow"you must be come out of your road the Lord knowswhither;for thickway goeth to Glocester."

"Welland which way goes toBristol?"said Jones. "Whyyou be going away from Bristol"answeredthe fellow. "Then" said Jones"we must go backagain?"

"Ayyou must" said the fellow. "Welland when we come back tothetop of thehillwhich way must we take?"

"Whyyou must keep thestraitroad."

"But I remember there are two roadsone to therightand theother to the left."

"Whyyou must keep the right handroadand thengu strait vorwards; only remember to turn vurst to yourrightandthen to your left againand then to your rightand thatbrings youto the squire's; and then you must keep strait vorwardsand turnto the left."

 Another fellow now came upand asked which way the gentlemen weregoing; ofwhich being informed by Joneshe first scratched hisheadandthen leaning upon a pole he had in his handbegan to tellhim"Thathe must keep the right-hand road for about a mileor amile and ahalfor such a matterand then he must turn short tothe leftwhich would bring him round by Measter Jin Bearnes's."-But whichis Mr. John Bearnes's?" says Jones. "O Lord!" criesthefellow"whydon't you know Measter Jin Bearnes? Whence then did youcome?"

 These two fellows had almost conquered the patience of Joneswhen aplainwell-looking man (who was indeed a Quaker) accosted him thus:"FriendI perceive thou hast lost thy way; and if thou wilt take myadvicethou wilt not attempt to find it to-night. It is almostdarkandthe road is difficult to hit; besidesthere have beenseveralrobberies committed lately between this and Bristol. Here is averycreditable good house just bywhere thou may'st find goodentertainmentfor thyself and thy cattle till morning." Jonesafter alittlepersuasionagreed to stay in this place till the morningand wasconducted by his friend to the public-house.

  Thelandlordwho was a very civil fellowtold Jones"He hopedhe wouldexcuse the badness of his accommodation; for that his wifewas gonefrom homeand had locked up almost everythingand carriedthe keysalong with her." Indeed the fact wasthat a favouritedaughterof hers was just marriedand gone that morning home with herhusband;and that she and her mother together had almost stript thepoor manof all his goodsas well as money; for though he had severalchildrenhis daughter onlywho was the mother's favouritewas theobject ofher consideration; and to the humour of this one child shewould withpleasure have sacrificed all the restand her husband intothebargain.

 Though Jones was very unfit for any kind of companyand wouldhavepreferred being aloneyet he could not resist theimportunitiesof the honest Quaker; who was the more desirous ofsittingwith himfrom having remarked the melancholy which appearedboth inhis countenance and behaviour; and which the poor Quakerthoughthis conversation might in some measure relieve.

 After they had past some time togetherin such a manner that myhonestfriend might have thought himself at one of his silentmeetingsthe Quaker began to be moved by some spirit or otherprobablythat of curiosityand said"FriendI perceive some saddisasterhath befallen thee; but pray be of comfort. Perhaps thou hastlost afriend. If sothou must consider we are all mortal. And whyshouldestthou grievewhen thou knowest thy grief will do thyfriend nogood? We are all born to affliction. I myself have mysorrows aswell as theeand most probably greater sorrows. Though Ihave aclear estate of L100 a yearwhich is as much as I wantandI have aconscienceI thank the Lordvoid of offence; myconstitutionis sound and strongand there is no man can demand adebt ofmenor accuse me of an injury; yetfriendI should beconcernedto think thee as miserable as myself."

 Here the Quaker ended with a deep sigh; and Jones presentlyanswered"I am very sorrysirfor your unhappinesswhatever is theoccasionof it."

"Ah! friend" replied the Quaker"oneonlydaughteris the occasion; one who was my greatest delight uponearthandwho within this week is run away from meand is marriedagainst myconsent. I had provided her a proper matcha sober man andone ofsubstance; but sheforsoothwould chuse for herselfand awayshe isgone with a young fellow not worth a groat. If she had beendeadas Isuppose thy friend isI should have been happy."

"Thatis verystrangesir" said Jones. "Whywould it not be better forher to bedeadthan to be a beggar?" replied the Quaker: "foras Itold youthe fellow is not worth a groat; and surely she cannotexpectthat I shall ever give her a shilling. Noas she hathmarriedfor lovelet her live on love if she can; let her carry herlove tomarketand see whether any one will change it into silveroreven intohalfpence."

"You know your own concerns bestsir"saidJones. "Itmust have been" continued the Quaker"a long premeditatedscheme tocheat me: for they have known one another from theirinfancy;and I always preached to her against loveand told her athousandtimes over it was all folly and wickedness. Naythecunningslut pretended to hearken to meand to despise all wantonnessof theflesh; and yet at last broke out at a window two pair ofstairs:for I beganindeeda little to suspect herand had lockedher upcarefullyintending the very next morning to have marriedher up tomy liking. But she disappointed me within a few hoursandescapedaway to the lover of her own chusing; who lost no timeforthey weremarried and bedded and all within an hour. But it shall bethe worsthour's work for them both tha? ever they did; for they maystarveorbegor steal togetherfor me. I will never give either ofthem afarthing." Here Jones starting up cried"I really must beexcused: Iwish you would leave me."

"comecomefriend" saidtheQuaker"don't give way to concern. You see there are other peoplemiserablebesides yourself."

"I see there are madmenand foolsandvillainsin the world" cries Jones. "But let me give you a piece ofadvice:send for your daughter and son-in-law homeand don't beyourselfthe only cause of misery to one you pretend to love."

"Sendfor herand her husband home!" cries the Quaker loudly; "I wouldsoonersend for the two greatest enemies I have in the world!"

"Wellgo homeyourselfor where you please" said Jones"for I will sitnolonger insuch company."

"Nayfriend" answered the Quaker"Iscornto imposemy company on any one." He then offered to pull money fromhispocketbut Jones pushed him with some violence out of the room.

  Thesubject of the Quaker's discourse had so deeply affectedJonesthat he stared very wildly all the time was speaking. Thisthe Quakerhad observedand thisadded to the rest of his behaviourinspiredhonest Broadbrim with a conceitthat his companion was inrealityout of his senses. Instead of resenting the affrontthereforethe Quaker was moved with compassion for his unhappycircumstances;and having communicated his opinion to the landlordhedesiredhim to take great care of his guestand to treat him with thehighestcivility.

 "Indeed" says the landlord"I shall use no suchcivility towardshim; forit seemsfor all his laced waistcoat therehe is no moreagentleman than myselfbut a poor parish bastardbred up at a greatsquire'sabout thirty miles offand now turned out of doors (notfor anygood to be sure). I shall get him out of my house as soon aspossible.If I do lose my reckoningthe first loss is always thebest. Itis not above a year ago that I lost a silver spoon."

 "What dost thou talk of a parish bastardRobin?" answeredtheQuaker."Thou must certainly be mistaken in thy man."

 "Not at all" replied Robin; "the guidewho knows himvery welltold itme." Forindeedthe guide had no sooner taken his place atthekitchen firethan he acquainted the whole company with all heknew orhad ever heard concerning Jones.

  TheQuaker was no sooner assured by this fellow of the birth and lowfortune ofJonesthan all compassion for him vanished; and the honestplain manwent home fired with no less indignation than a duke wouldhave feltat receiving an affront from such a person.

  Thelandlord himself conceived an equal disdain for his guest; sothat whenJones rung the bell in order to retire to bedhe wasacquaintedthat he could have no bed there. Besides disdain of themeancondition of his guestRobin entertained violent suspicion ofhisintentionswhich werehe supposedto watch some favourableopportunityof robbing the house. In realityhe might have beenvery welleased of these apprehensionsby the prudent precautionsof hiswife and daughterwho had already removed everything which wasnot fixedto the freehold; but he was by nature suspiciousand hadbeen moreparticularly so since the loss of his spoon. In shortthedread ofbeing robbed totally absorbed the comfortable considerationthat hehad nothing to lose.

 Jones being assured that he could have no bedvery contentedlybetookhimself to a great chair made with rusheswhen sleepwhichhad latelyshunned his company in much better apartmentsgenerouslypaid him avisit in his humble cell.

  Asfor the landlordhe was prevented by his fears from retiringto rest.He returned therefore to the kitchen firewhence he couldsurvey theonly door which opened into the parlouror rather holewhereJones was seatedand as for the window to that roomit wasimpossiblefor any creature larger than a cat to have made hisescapethrough it.

Chapter11
Theadventure of a company of soldiers

  Thelandlord having taken his seat directly opposite to the doorof theparlourdetermined to keep guard there the whole night. Theguide andanother fellow remained long on duty with himthough theyneitherknew his suspicionsnor had any of their own. The truecause oftheir watching didindeedat lengthput an end to it;for thiswas no other than the strength and goodness of the beerofwhichhaving tippled a very large quantitythey grew at first verynoisy andvociferousand afterwards fell both asleep.

  Butit was not in the power of liquor to compose the fears of Robin.Hecontinued still waking in his chairwith his eyes fixed stedfastlyon thedoor which led into the apartment of Mr. Jonestill aviolentthundering at his outward gate called him from his seatandobligedhim to open it; which he had no sooner donethan hiskitchenwas immediately full of gentlemen in red coatswho all rushedupon himin as tumultuous a manner as if they intended to take hislittlecastle by storm.

  Thelandlord was now forced from his post to furnish his numerousguestswith beerwhich they called for with great eagerness; and uponhis secondor third return from the cellarhe saw Mr. Jonesstandingbefore the fire in the midst of the soldiers; for it mayeasily bebelievedthat the arrival of so much good company shouldput an endto any sleepunless that from which we are to beawakenedonly by the last trumpet.

  Thecompany having now pretty well satisfied their thirstnothingremainedbut to pay the reckoninga circumstance often productiveof muchmischief and discontent among the inferior rank of gentrywhoare apt tofind great difficulty in assessing the sumwith exactregard todistributive justicewhich directs that every man shall payaccordingto the quantity which he drinks. This difficulty occurredupon thepresent occasion; and it was the greateras some gentlemenhadintheir extreme hurrymarched offafter their first draughtand hadentirely forgot to contribute anything towards the saidreckoning.

  Aviolent dispute now arosein which every word may be said to havebeendeposed upon oath; for the oaths were at least equal to all theotherwords spoken. In this controversy the whole company spoketogetherand every man seemed wholly bent to extenuate the sumwhich fellto his share; so that the most probable conclusion whichcould beforeseen wasthat a large portion of the reckoning wouldfall tothe landlord's share to payor (what is much the samething)would remain unpaid.

  Allthis while Mr. Jones was engaged in conversation with theserjeant;for that officer was entirely unconcerned in the presentdisputebeing privileged by immemorial custom from all contribution.

  Thedispute now grew so very warm that it seemed to draw towards amilitarydecisionwhen Jonesstepping forwardsilenced all theirclamoursat onceby declaring that he would pay the wholereckoningwhich indeed amounted to no more than three shillings andfourpence.

  Thisdeclaration procured Jones the thanks and applause of the wholecompany.The terms honourablenobleand worthy gentlemanresoundedthrough the room; naymy landlord himself began to have abetteropinion of himand almost to disbelieve the account whichthe guidehad given.

  Theserjeant had informed Mr. Jones that they were marchingagainstthe rebelsand expected to be commanded by the gloriousDuke ofCumberland. By which the reader may perceive (a circumstancewhich wehave not thought necessary to communicate before) that thiswas thevery time when the late rebellion was at the highest; andindeed thebanditti were now marched into Englandintendingas itwasthoughtto fight the king's forcesand to attempt pushingforward tothe metropolis.

 Jones had some heroic ingredients in his compositionand was aheartywell-wisher to the glorious cause of libertyand of theProtestantreligion. It is no wonderthereforethat in circumstanceswhichwould have warranted a much more romantic and wildundertakingit should occur to him to serve as a volunteer in thisexpedition.

  Ourcommanding officer had said all in his power to encourage andpromotethis good dispositionfrom the first moment he had beenacquaintedwith it. He now proclaimed the noble resolution aloudwhich wasreceived with great pleasure by the whole companywho allcried out"God bless King George and your honour"; and then addedwith manyoaths"We will stand by you both to the last drops of ourblood."

  Thegentleman who had been all night tippling at the ale-housewasprevailed on by some arguments which a corporal had put into hishandstoundertake the same expedition. And now the portmanteaubelongingto Mr. Jones being put up in the baggage-cartthe forceswere aboutto move forwards; when the guidestepping up to Jonessaid"SirI hope you will consider that the horses have been keptout allnightand we have travelled a great ways out of our way."Jones wassurprized at the impudence of this demandand acquaintedthesoldiers with the merits of his causewho were all unanimous incondemningthe guide for his endeavours to put upon a gentleman.Some saidhe ought to be tied neck and heels; others that he deservedto run thegantlope; and the serjeant shook his cane at himandwished hehad him under his commandswearing heartily he would makean exampleof him.

 Jones contented himself however with a negative punishmentandwalked offwith his new comradesleaving the guide to the poorrevenge ofcursing and reviling him; in which latter the landlordjoinedsaying"Ayayhe is a pure oneI warrant you. A prettygentlemanindeedto go for a soldier! He shall wear a lacedwaistcoattruly. It is an old proverb and a true oneall is notgold thatglisters. I am glad my house is well rid of him."

  Allthat day the serjeant and the young soldier marched together;and theformerwho was an arch fellowtold the latter manyentertainingstories of his campaignsthough in reality he hadnever madeany; for he was but lately come into the serviceandhadbyhis own dexterityso well ingratiated himself with hisofficersthat he had promoted himself to a halberd; chiefly indeed byhis meritin recruitingin which he was most excellently wellskilled.

 Much mirth and festivity passed among the soldiers during theirmarch. Inwhich the many occurrences that had passed at their lastquarterswere rememberedand every onewith great freedommade whatjokes hepleased on his officerssome of which were of the coarserkindandvery near bordering on scandal. This brought to ourheroe'smind the custom which he had read of among the Greeks andRomansofindulgingon certain festivals and solemn occasionstheliberty toslavesof using an uncontrouled freedom of speechtowardstheir masters.

  Ourlittle armywhich consisted of two companies of footwerenowarrived at the place where they were to halt that evening. Theserjeantthen acquainted his lieutenantwho was the commandingofficerthat they had picked up two fellows in that day's marchone ofwhichhe saidwas as fine a man as ever he saw (meaning thetippler)for that he was near six feetwell proportionedandstronglylimbed; and the other (meaning Jones) would do well enoughfor therear rank.

  Thenew soldiers were now produced before the officerwho havingexaminedthe six-feet manhe being first producedcame next tosurveyJones: at the first sight of whomthe lieutenant could nothelpshowing some surprize; for besides that he was very well dressedand wasnaturally genteelhe had a remarkable air of dignity in hislookwhich is rarely seen among the vulgarand is indeed notinseparablyannexed to the features of their superiors.

 "Sir" said the lieutenant"my serjeant informed methat you aredesirousof enlisting in the company I have at present under mycommand;if sosirwe shall very gladly receive a gentleman whopromisesto do much honour to the company by bearing arms in it."

 Jones answered: "That he had not mentioned anything of enlistinghimself;that he was most zealously attached to the glorious cause forwhich theywere going to fightand was very desirous of serving asavolunteer;" concluding with some compliments to the lieutenantandexpressing the great satisfaction he should have in being underhiscommand.

  Thelieutenant returned his civilitycommended his resolutionshook himby the handand invited him to dine with himself and therest ofthe officers.

Chapter12
Theadventure of a company of officers

  Thelieutenantwhom we mentioned in the preceding chapterandwhocommanded this partywas now near sixty years of age. He hadenteredvery young into the armyand had served in the capacity of anensign atthe battle of Tannieres; here he had received two woundsand had sowell distinguished himselfthat he was by the Duke ofMarlboroughadvanced to be a lieutenantimmediately after thatbattle.

  Inthis commission he had continued ever sinceviz.near fortyyears;during which time he had seen vast numbers preferred over hisheadandhad now the mortification to be commanded by boyswhosefatherswere at nurse when he first entered into the service.

  Norwas this ill success in his profession solely owing to hishaving nofriends among the men in power. He had the misfortune toincur thedispleasure of his colonelwho for many years continuedin thecommand of this regiment. Nor did he owe the implacableill-willwhich this man bore him to any neglect or deficiency as anofficernor indeed to any fault in himself; but solely to theindiscretionof his wifewho was a very beautiful womanand whothough shewas remarkably fond of her husbandwould not purchasehispreferment at the expense of certain favours which the colonelrequiredof her.

  Thepoor lieutenant was more peculiarly unhappy in thisthatwhile hefelt the effects of the enmity of his colonelhe neitherknewnorsuspectedthat he really bore him any; for he could notsuspect anill-will for which he was not conscious of giving anycause; andhis wifefearing what her husband's nice regard to hishonourmight have occasionedcontented herself with preserving hervirtuewithout enjoying the triumphs of her conquest.

 This unfortunate officer (for so I think he may be called) hadmany goodqualities besides his merit in his profession; for he wasareligioushonestgood-natured man; and had behaved so well inhiscommandthat he was highly esteemed and beloved not only by thesoldiersof his own companybut by the whole regiment.

  Theother officers who marched with him were a French lieutenantwho hadbeen long enough out of France to forget his own languagebutnot longenough in England to learn oursso that he really spoke nolanguageat alland could barely make himself understood on themostordinary occasions. There were likewise two ensignsboth veryyoungfellows; one of whom had been bred under an attorneyand theother wasson to the wife of a nobleman's butler.

  Assoon as dinner was endedJones informed the company of themerrimentwhich had passed among the soldiers upon their march; "andyet"says he"notwithstanding all their vociferationI dare swearthey willbehave more like Grecians than Trojans when they come to theenemy."

"Grecians and Trojans!" says one of the ensigns"whothedevil arethey? I have heard of all the troops in Europebut never ofany suchas these."

 "Don't pretend to more ignorance than you haveMr. Northerton"said theworthy lieutenant. "I suppose you have heard of the GreeksandTrojansthough perhaps you never read Pope's Homer; whoIremembernow the gentleman mentions itcompares the march of theTrojans tothe cackling of geeseand greatly commends the silenceof theGrecians. And upon my honour there is great justice in thecadet'sobservation."

 "Begarme remember dem ver well" said the Frenchlieutenant: "meave readthem at school in dans Madam Dacieredes GreekdesTrojandey fight for von woman- ouyouyme ave read all dat."

 "D--n Homo with all my heart" says Northerton; "Ihave the marksof him onmy a- yet. There's Thomasof our regimentalways carriesa Homo inhis pocket; d--n meif ever I come at itif I don't burnit. Andthere's Corderiusanother d--n'd son of a whorethat hathgot memany a flogging."

 "Then you have been at schoolMr. Northerton?" said thelieutenant.

 "Ayd--n mehave I" answered he; "the devil take myfather forsending methither! The old put wanted to make a parson of mebutd--n methinks I to myselfI'll nick you thereold cull; the devila smack ofyour nonsense shall you ever get into me. There's JemmyOliverofour regimenthe narrowly escaped being a pimp tooandthat wouldhave been a thousand pities; for d--n me if he is not oneof theprettiest fellows in the whole world; but he went farther thanI with theold cullfor Jimmey can neither write nor read."

 "You give your friend a very good character" said thelieutenant"anda very deserved oneI dare say. But pritheeNorthertonleaveoff thatfoolish as well as wicked custom of swearing; for you aredeceivedI promise youif you think there is wit or politeness init. Iwishtooyou would take my adviceand desist from abusing theclergy.Scandalous namesand reflections cast on any body of menmust bealways unjustifiable; but especially sowhen thrown on sosacred afunction; for to abuse the body is to abuse the functionitself;and I leave to you to judge how inconsistent such behaviour isin men whoare going to fight in defence of the Protestant religion."

  Mr.Adderlywhich was the name of the other ensignhad sathithertokicking his heels and humming a tunewithout seeming tolisten tothe discourse; he now answered"OMonsieuron ne parlepas de lareligion dans la guerre."

"Well saidJack" criesNortherton:"if la religion was the only matterthe parsons shouldfighttheir own battles for me."

  "Idon't knowgentlemen" said Jones"what may be youropinion;but Ithink no man can engage in a nobler cause than that of hisreligion;and I have observedin the little I have read of historythat nosoldiers have fought so bravely as those who have beeninspiredwith a religious zeal: for my own partthough I love my kingandcountryI hopeas well as any man in ityet the Protestantinterestis no small motive to my becoming a volunteer in the cause."

 Northerton now winked on Adderlyand whispered to him slily"Smokethe prigAdderlysmoke him." Then turning to Jonessaid to him"I amvery gladsiryou have chosen our regiment to be a volunteerin; for ifour parson should at any time take a cup too muchI findyou cansupply his place. I presumesiryou have been at theuniversity;may I crave the favour to know what college?"

 "Sir" answered Jones"so far from having been at theuniversityIhave evenhad the advantage of yourselffor I was never at school."

  "Ipresumed" cries the ensign"only upon the information ofyourgreatlearning."

"Oh! sir" answered Jones"it is aspossible for aman toknow something without having been at schoolas it is tohave beenat school and to know nothing."

 "Well saidyoung volunteer" cries the lieutenant. "Uponmy wordNorthertonyou had better let him alone; for he will be too hardfor you."

 Northerton did not very well relish the sarcasm of Jones; but hethoughtthe provocation was scarce sufficient to justify a blowora rascalor scoundrelwhich were the only repartees that suggestedthemselves.He wasthereforesilent at present; but resolved to takethe firstopportunity of returning the jest by abuse.

  Itnow came to the turn of Mr. Jones to give a toastas it iscalled;who could not refrain from mentioning his dear Sophia. This hedid themore readilyas he imagined it utterly impossible that anyonepresent should guess the person he meant.

  Butthe lieutenantwho was the toast-masterwas not contented withSophiaonly. He saidhe must have her sir-name; upon which Joneshesitateda littleand presently after named Miss Sophia Western.EnsignNortherton declared he would not drink her health in the sameround withhis own toastunless somebody would vouch for her. "I knewone SophyWestern" says he"that was lain with by half the youngfellows atBath; and perhaps this is the same woman." Jones verysolemnlyassured him of the contrary; asserting that the young lady henamed wasone of great fashion and fortune. "Ayay" says theensign"andso she is: d--n meit is the same woman; and I'll hold half adozen ofBurgundyTom French of our regiment brings her intocompanywith us at any tavern in Bridges-street." He then proceeded todescribeher person exactly (for he had seen her with her aunt)andconcludedwith saying"that her father had a great estate inSomersetshire."

  Thetenderness of lovers can ill brook the least jesting with thenames oftheir mistresses. HoweverJonesthough he had enough of thelover andof the heroe too in his dispositiondid not resent theseslandersas hastily asperhapshe ought to have done. To say thetruthhaving seen but little of this kind of withe did notreadilyunderstand itand for a long time imagined Mr. Northerton hadreallymistaken his charmer for some other. But nowturning to theensignwith a stern aspecthe said"Praysirchuse some othersubjectfor your wit; for I promise you I will bear no jesting withthislady's character."

"Jesting!" cries the other"d--nme if everI was morein earnest in my life. Tom French of our regiment hadboth herand her aunt at Bath."

"Then I must tell you in earnest"criedJones"that you are one of the most impudent rascals uponearth."

  Hehad no sooner spoken these wordsthan the ensigntogetherwith avolley of cursesdischarged a bottle full at the head ofJoneswhich hitting him a little above the right templebroughthiminstantly to the ground.

  Theconqueror perceiving the enemy to lie motionless before himandbloodbeginning to flow pretty plentifully from his woundbegan nowto thinkof quitting the field of battlewhere no more honour wasto begotten; but the lieutenant interposedby stepping before thedoorandthus cut off his retreat.

 Northerton was very importunate with the lieutenant for his liberty;urging theill consequences of his stayasking himwhat he couldhave doneless? "Zounds!" says he"I was but in jest with thefellow.I neverheard any harm of Miss Western in my life."

"Have not you?"said thelieutenant; "then you richly deserve to be hangedas wellfor makingsuch jestsas for using such a weapon: you are myprisonersir; nor shall you stir from hence till a proper guard comesto secureyou."

 Such an ascendant had our lieutenant over this ensignthat all thatfervencyof courage which had levelled our poor heroe with thefloorwould scarce have animated the said ensign to have drawn hisswordagainst the lieutenanthad he then had one dangling at hisside: butall the swords being hung up in the roomwereat theverybeginning of the fraysecured by the French officer. So that Mr.Northertonwas obliged to attend the final issue of this affair.

  TheFrench gentleman and Mr. Adderlyat the desire of theircommandingofficerhad raised up the body of Jonesbut as they couldperceivebut little (if any) sign of life in himthey again let himfallAdderly damning him for having blooded his waistcoat; and theFrenchmandeclaring"Begarme no tush the Engliseman de mort: mehave heardde Englise leylawwhat you callhang up de man dat tushhim last."

 When the good lieutenant applied himself to the doorhe appliedhimselflikewise to the bell; and the drawer immediately attendinghedispatchedhim for a file of musqueteers and a surgeon. Thesecommandstogether with the drawer's report of what he had himselfseennotonly produced the soldiersbut presently drew up thelandlordof the househis wifeand servantsandindeedeveryone elsewho happened at that time to be in the inn.

  Todescribe every particularand to relate the whole conversationof theensuing sceneis not within my powerunless I had forty pensand couldat oncewrite with them all togetheras the company nowspoke. Thereader mustthereforecontent himself with the mostremarkableincidentsand perhaps he may very well excuse the rest.

  Thefirst thing done was securing the body of Northertonwhobeingdelivered into the custody of six men with a corporal at theirheadwasby them conducted from a place which he was very willingto leavebut it was unluckily to a place whither he was veryunwillingto go. To say the truthso whimsical are the desires ofambitionthe very moment this youth had attained theabove-mentionedhonourhe would have been well contented to haveretired tosome corner of the worldwhere the fame of it should neverhavereached his ears.

  Itsurprizes usand so perhapsit may the readerthat thelieutenanta worthy and good manshould have applied his chief carerather tosecure the offenderthan to preserve the life of thewoundedperson. We mention this observationnot with any view ofpretendingto account for so odd a behaviourbut lest some criticshouldhereafter plume himself on discovering it. We would havethesegentlemen know we can see what is odd in characters as well asthemselvesbut it is our business to relate facts as they are; whichwhen wehave doneit is the part of the learned and sagaciousreader toconsult that original book of naturewhence every passagein ourwork is transcribedthough we quote not always theparticularpage for its authority.

  Thecompany which now arrived were of a different disposition.Theysuspended their curiosity concerning the person of the ensigntill theyshould see him hereafter in a more engaging attitude. Atpresenttheir whole concern and attention were employed about thebloodyobject on the floor; which being placed upright in a chairsoon beganto discover some symptoms of life and motion. These were nosoonerperceived by the company (for Jones was at first generallyconcludedto be dead) than they all fell at once to prescribing forhim (foras none of the physical order was presentevery one theretook thatoffice upon him).

 Bleeding was the unanimous voice of the whole room; but unluckilythere wasno operator at hand; every one then cried"Call thebarber;"but none stirred a step. Several cordials was likewiseprescribedin the same ineffective manner; till the landlord orderedup atankard of strong beerwith a toastwhich he said was thebestcordial in England.

  Theperson principally assistant on this occasionindeed the onlyone whodid any serviceor seemed likely to do anywas the landlady:she cutoff some of her hairand applied it to the wound to stopthe blood;she fell to chafing the youth's temples with her hand;and havingexprest great contempt for her husband's prescription ofbeershedespatched one of her maids to her own closet for a bottleof brandyof whichas soon as it was broughtshe prevailed onJoneswhowas just returned to his sensesto drink a very largeandplentiful draught.

 Soon afterwards arrived the surgeonwho having viewed the woundhavingshaken his headand blamed everything which was doneorderedhis patient instantly to bed; in which place we think properto leavehim some time to his reposeand shall herethereforeputan end tothis chapter.

Chapter13
Containingthe great address of the landladythe great learningof asurgeonand the solid skill in casuistry of the worthylieutenant

 When the wounded man was carried to his bedand the house beganagain toclear up from the hurry which this accident had occasionedthelandlady thus addressed the commanding officer: "I am afraidsir"said she"this young man did not behave himself as well as heshould doto your honours; and if he had been killedI suppose he hadbut hisdesarts: to be surewhen gentlemen admit inferior parsonsinto theircompanythey oft to keep their distance; butas myfirsthusband used to sayfew of 'em know how to do it. For my ownpartI amsure I should not have suffered any fellows to includethemselvesinto gentlemen's company; but I thoft he had been anofficerhimselftill the serjeant told me he was but a recruit."

 "Landlady" answered the lieutenant"you mistake thewholematter.The young man behaved himself extremely welland isIbelieveamuch better gentleman than the ensign who abused him. Ifthe youngfellow diesthe man who struck him will have most reason tobe sorryfor it; for the regiment will get rid of a very troublesomefellowwho is a scandal to the army; and if he escapes from the handsofjusticeblame memadamthat's all."

 "Ay! ay! good lack-a-day!" said the landlady; "whocould havethoft it?AyayayI am satisfied your honour will see justicedone; andto be sure it oft to be to every one. Gentlemen oft not tokill poorfolks without answering for it. A poor man hath a soul to besavedaswell as his betters."

 "Indeedmadam" said the lieutenant"you do thevolunteer wrong: Idare swearhe is more of a gentleman than the officer."

 "Ay!" cries the landlady; "whylook you therenow:wellmyfirsthusband was a wise man; he used to sayyou can't always knowthe insideby the outside. Naythat might have been well enoughtoo; for Inever saw'd him till he was all over blood. Who wouldhave thoftit? mayhapsome young gentleman crossed in love. Goodlack-a-dayif he should diewhat a concern it will be to hisparents!whysure the devil must possess the wicked wretch to do suchan act. Tobe surehe is a scandal to the armyas your honoursays; formost of the gentlemen of the army that ever I saware quitedifferentsort of peopleand look as if they would scorn to spill anyChristianblood as much as any men: I meanthat isin a civil wayas myfirst husband used to say. To be surewhen they come into thewarsthere must be bloodshed: but that they are not to be blamed for.The moreof our enemies they kill therethe better: and I wishwith allmy heartthey could kill every mother's son of them."

  "Ofiemadam!" said the lieutenantsmiling; "all is rathertoobloody-mindeda wish."

 "Not at allsir" answered she; "I am not at allbloody-mindedonly toour enemies; and there is no harm in that. To be sure it isnaturalfor us to wish our enemies deadthat the wars may be at anendandour taxes be lowered; for it is a dreadful thing to pay as wedo. Whynowthere is above forty shillings for window-lightsand yetwe havestopt up all we could; we have almost blinded the houseIam sure.Says I to the excisemansays II think you oft to favourus; I amsure we are very good friends to the government: and so weare forsartainfor we pay a mint of money to 'um. And yet I oftenthink tomyself the government doth not imagine itself more obliged tousthanto those that don't pay 'um a farthing. Ayayit is the wayof theworld."

  Shewas proceeding in this manner when the surgeon entered the room.Thelieutenant immediately asked how his patient did. But heresolvedhim only by saying"BetterI believethan he would havebeen bythis timeif I had not been called; and even as it isperhaps itwould have been lucky if I could have been calledsooner."

"I hopesir" said the lieutenant"the skull is notfractured."

"Hum" cries the surgeon: "fractures are not alwaysthemostdangerous symptoms. Contusions and lacerations are often attendedwith worsephaenomenaand with more fatal consequencesthanfractures.People who know nothing of the matter concludeif theskull isnot fracturedall is well; whereasI had rather see a man'sskullbroke all to piecesthan some contusions I have met with."

"Ihope"says the lieutenant"there are no such symptoms here."

"Symptoms"answered the surgeon"are not always regular norconstant.I have known very unfavourable symptoms in the morningchange tofavourable ones at noonand return to unfavourable again atnight. Ofwoundsindeedit is rightly and truly saidNemorepentefuitturpissimus.I was onceI remembercalled to a patient who hadreceived aviolent contusion in his tibiaby which the exterior cutiswaslaceratedso that there was a profuse sanguinary discharge; andtheinterior membranes were so divellicatedthat the os or boneveryplainly appeared through the aperture of the vulnus or wound.Somefebrile symptoms intervening at the same time (for the pulsewasexuberant and indicated much phlebotomy)I apprehended animmediatemortification. To prevent whichI presently made a largeorifice inthe vein of the left armwhence I drew twenty ounces ofblood;which I expected to have found extremely sizy and glutinousorindeedcoagulatedas it is in pleuretic complaints; butto mysurprizeit appeared rosy and floridand its consistency differedlittlefrom the blood of those in perfect health. I then applied afomentationto the partwhich highly answered the intention; andafterthree or four times dressingthe wound began to discharge athick pusor matterby which means the cohesion-- But perhaps I donot makemyself perfectly well understood?"

"Noreally"answeredthelieutenant"I cannot say I understand a syllable."

"Wellsir"said thesurgeon"then I shall not tire your patience; in shortwithin sixweeks my patient was able to walk upon his legs asperfectlyas he could have done before he received the contusion."

"Iwish sir" said the lieutenant"you would be so kind onlytoinform mewhether the wound this young gentleman hath had themisfortuneto receiveis likely to prove mortal."

"Sir"answeredthesurgeon"to say whether a wound will prove mortal or not atfirstdressingwould be very weak and foolish presumption: we are allmortaland symptoms often occur in a cure which the greatest of ourprofessioncould never foresee."

"But do you think him in danger?"says theother.

"In danger! aysurely" cries the doctor: "whoisthereamong uswhoin the most perfect healthcan be said not to bein danger?Can a manthereforewith so bad a wound as this be saidto be outof danger? All I can say at present isthat it is well Iwas calledas I wasand perhaps it would have been better if I hadbeencalled sooner. I will see him again early in the morning; andin themeantime let him be kept extremely quietand drink liberallyofwater-gruel."

"Won't you allow him sack-whey?" saidthelandlady.

"Ayaysack-whey" cries the doctor"if you willprovidedit be very small."

"And a little chicken broth too?"addedshe.

"Yesyeschicken broth" said the doctor"is verygood."

"Mayn't I make him some jellies too?" said the landlady.

"Ayay"answered the doctor"jellies are very good for woundsfortheypromote cohesion." And indeed it was lucky she had not namedsoupor highsaucesfor the doctor would have compliedrather than havelost thecustom of the house.

  Thedoctor was no sooner gonethan the landlady began to trumpetforth hisfame to the lieutenantwho had notfrom their shortacquaintanceconceived quite so favourable an opinion of his physicalabilitiesas the good womanand all the neighbourhoodentertained(andperhaps very rightly); for though I am afraid the doctor was alittle ofa coxcombhe might be nevertheless very much of a surgeon.

  Thelieutenant having collected from the learned discourse of thesurgeonthat Mr. Jones was in great dangergave orders for keepingMr.Northerton under a very strict guarddesigning in the morningto attendhim to a justice of peaceand to commit the conductingthe troopsto Gloucester to the French lieutenantwhothough hecouldneither readwritenor speak any languagewashoweveragoodofficer.

  Inthe eveningour commander sent a message to Mr. Jonesthat if avisitwould not be troublesomehe would wait on him. This civilitywas verykindly and thankfully received by Jonesand the lieutenantaccordinglywent up to his roomwhere he found the wounded man muchbetterthan he expected; nayJones assured his friendthat if he hadnotreceived express orders to the contrary from the surgeonheshouldhave got up long ago; for he appeared to himself to be aswell aseverand felt no other inconvenience from his wound but anextremesoreness on that side of his head.

  "Ishould be very glad" quoth the lieutenant"if you was aswellas youfancy yourselffor then you could be able to do yourselfjusticeimmediately; for when a matter can't be made upas in case ofa blowthe sooner you take him out the better; but I am afraid youthinkyourself better than you areand he would have too muchadvantageover you."

 "I'll tryhowever" answered Jones"if you pleaseand will beso kind tolend me a swordfor I have none here of my own."

  "Mysword is heartily at your servicemy dear boy" cries thelieutenantkissing him: "you are a brave ladand I love your spirit;but I fearyour strength; for such a blowand so much loss ofbloodmust have very much weakened you; and though you feel no wantofstrength in your bedyet you most probably would after a thrust ortwo. Ican't consent to your taking him out to-night; but I hope youwill beable to come up with us before we get many days' marchadvance;and I give you my honour you shall have satisfactionorthe manwho hath injured you shan't stay in our regiment."

  "Iwish" said Jones"it was possible to decide this matterto-night:now you have mentioned it to meI shall not be able torest."

 "Ohnever think of it" returned the other: "a fewdays will makenodifference. The wounds of honour are not like those in your body:theysuffer nothing by the delay of cure. It will be altogether aswell foryou to receive satisfaction a week hence as now."

 "But suppose" says Jones"I should grow worseanddie of theconsequencesof my present wound?"

 "Then your honour" answered the lieutenant"willrequire noreparationat all. I myself will do justice to your characterandtestify tothe world your intention to have acted properlyif you hadrecovered."

 "Still" replied Jones"I am concerned at the delay.I am almostafraid tomention it to you who are a soldier; but though I havebeen avery wild young fellowstill in my most serious momentsandat thebottomI am really a Christian."

  "Soam I tooI assure you" said the officer; "and so zealousaonethatI was pleased with you at dinner for taking up the causeof yourreligion; and I am a little offended with you nowyounggentlemanthat you should express a fear of declaring your faithbefore anyone."

 "But how terrible must it be" cries Jones"to anyone who isreally aChristianto cherish malice in his breastin oppositionto thecommand of Him who hath expressly forbid it? How can I bearto do thison a sick-bed? Or how shall I make up my accountwith suchan articleas this in my bosom against me?"

 "WhyI believe there is such a command" cries thelieutenant; "buta man ofhonour can't keep it. And you must be a man of honourif youwill be inthe army. I remember I once put the case to our chaplainover abowl of punchand he confessed there was much difficulty init; but hesaidhe hoped there might be a latitude granted tosoldiersin this one instance; and to be sure it is our duty to hopeso; forwho would bear to live without his honour? Nonomy dearboybe agood Christian as long as you live; but be a man of honourtooandnever put up an affront; not all the booksnor all theparsons inthe worldshall ever persuade me to that. I love myreligionvery wellbut I love my honour more. There must be somemistake inthe wording the textor in the translationor in theunderstandingitor somewhere or other. But however that bea manmust runthe risquefor he must preserve his honour. So composeyourselfto-nightand I promise you you have an opportunity ofdoingyourself justice." Here he gave Jones a hearty bussshook himby thehandand took his leave.

  Butthough the lieutenant's reasoning was very satisfactory tohimselfit was not entirely so to his friend. Jones thereforehavingrevolvedthis matter much in his thoughtsat last came to aresolutionwhich the reader will find in the next chapter.

Chapter14
A mostdreadful chapter indeed; and which few readers ought toventureupon in an eveningespecially when alone

 Jones swallowed a large mess of chickenor rather cockbrothwitha verygood appetiteas indeed he would have done the cock it wasmade ofwith a pound of bacon into the bargain; and nowfinding inhimself nodeficiency of either health or spirithe resolved to getup andseek his enemy.

  Butfirst he sent for the serjeantwho was his first acquaintanceamongthese military gentlemen. Unluckily that worthy officerhavingina literal sensetaken his fill of liquorhad been sometimeretired to his bolsterwhere he was snoring so loud that itwas noteasy to convey a noise in at his ears capable of drowning thatwhichissued from his nostrils.

 Howeveras Jones persisted in his desire of seeing himavociferousdrawer at length found means to disturb his slumbersandtoacquaint him with the message. Of which the serjeant was nosoonermade sensiblethan he arose from his bedand having hisclothesalready onimmediately attended. Jones did not think fit toacquaintthe serjeant with his design; though he might have done itwith greatsafetyfor the halberdier was himself a man of honourandhad killedhis man. He would therefore have faithfully kept thissecretorindeed any other which no reward was published fordiscovering.But as Jones knew not those virtues in so short anacquaintancehis caution was perhaps prudent and commendable enough.

  Hebegan therefore by acquainting the serjeantthat as he was nowenteredinto the armyhe was ashamed of being without what wasperhapsthe most necessary implement of a soldier; namelya sword;addingthat he should be infinitely obliged to himif he couldprocureone. "For which" says he"I will give you anyreasonableprice; nordo I insist upon its being silver-hilted; only a goodbladeandsuch as may become a soldier's thigh."

  Theserjeantwho well knew what had happenedand had heard thatJones wasin a very dangerous conditionimmediately concludedfromsuch amessageat such a time of nightand from a man in such asituationthat he was light-headed. Now as he had his wit (to usethat wordin its common signification) always readyhe bethoughthimself ofmaking his advantage of this humour in the sick man. "Sir"says he"I believe I can fit you. I have a most excellent piece ofstuff byme. It is not indeed silver-hiltedwhichas you saydothnot becomea soldier; but the handle is decent enoughand the bladeone of thebest in Europe. It is a blade that- a blade that- in shortI willfetch it you this instantand you shall see it and handleit. I amglad to see your honour so well with all my heart."

 Being instantly returned with the swordhe delivered it to Joneswho tookit and drew it; and then told the serjeant it would do verywellandbid him name his price.

  Theserjeant now began to harangue in praise of his goods. He said(nay heswore very heartily)"that the blade was taken from aFrenchofficerof very high rankat the battle of Dettingen. Itook itmyself" says he"from his sideafter I had knocked himo'the head.The hilt was a golden one. That I sold to one of our finegentlemen;for there are some of theman't please your honourwhovalue thehilt of a sword more than the blade."

 Here the other stopped himand begged him to name a price. Theserjeantwho thought Jones absolutely out of his sensesand verynear hisendwas afraid lest he should injure his family by askingtoolittle. Howeverafter a moment's hesitationhe contented himselfwithnaming twenty guineasand swore he would not sell it for less tohis ownbrother.

 "Twenty guineas!" says Jonesin the utmost surprize: "sureyouthink I ammador that I never saw a sword in my life. Twentyguineasindeed! I did not imagine you would endeavour to imposeupon me.Heretake the sword- Nonow I think on'tI will keep itmyselfand show it your officer in the morningacquainting himatthe sametimewhat a price you asked me for it."

  Theserjeantas we have saidhad always his wit (insensupraedicto)about himand now plainly saw that Jones was not in theconditionhe had apprehended him to be; he nowthereforecounterfeitedas great surprize as the other had shownand said"IamcertainsirI have not asked you so much out of the way. Besidesyou are toconsiderit is the only sword I haveand I must run therisque ofmy officer's displeasureby going without one myself. Andtrulyputting all this togetherI don't think twenty shillings wasso muchout of the way."

 "Twenty shillings!" cries Jones; "whyyou just nowasked metwentyguineas."

"How!" cries the serjeant"sure yourhonour musthavemistaken me: or else I mistook myself- and indeed I am but halfawake.Twenty guineasindeed! no wonder your honour flew into sucha passion.I say twenty guineas too. NonoI mean twentyshillingsI assure you. And when your honour comes to considereverythingI hope you will not think that so extravagant a price.It isindeed trueyou may buy a weapon which looks as well for lessmoney.But-"

 Here Jones interrupted himsaying"I will be so far frommakingany wordswith youthat I will give you a shilling more than yourdemand."He then gave him a guineabid him return to his bedandwished hima good march; addinghe hoped to overtake them beforethedivision reached Worcester.

  Theserjeant very civilly took his leavefully satisfied with hismerchandizeand not a little pleased with his dexterous recovery fromthe falsestep into which his opinion of the sick man'slight-headednesshad betrayed him.

  Assoon as the serjeant was departedJones rose from his bedanddressedhimself entirelyputting on even his coatwhichas itscolour waswhiteshowed very visibly the streams of blood which hadfloweddown it; and nowhaving grasped his new-purchased sword in hishandhewas going to issue forthwhen the thought of what he wasabout toundertake laid suddenly hold of himand he began toreflectthat in a few minutes he might possibly deprive a humanbeing oflifeor might lose his own. "Very well" said he"andinwhat causedo I venture my life? Whyin that of my honour. And who isthis humanbeing? A rascal who hath injured and insulted me withoutprovocation.But is not revenge forbidden by Heaven? Yesbut it isenjoinedby the world. Wellbut shall I obey the world inoppositionto the express commands of Heaven? Shall I incur the Divinedispleasurerather than be called- ha- coward- scoundrel?- I'll thinkno more; Iam resolvedand must fight him."

  Theclock had now struck twelveand every one in the house werein theirbedsexcept the centinel who stood to guard NorthertonwhenJonessoftly opening his doorissued forth in pursuit of his enemyof whoseplace of confinement he had received a perfect descriptionfrom thedrawer. It is not easy to conceive a much more tremendousfigurethan he now exhibited. He had onas we have saidalight-colouredcoatcovered with streams of blood. His facewhichmissedthat very bloodas well as twenty ounces more drawn from himby thesurgeonwas pallid. Round his head was a quantity ofbandagenot unlike a turban. In the right hand he carried a swordand in theleft a candle. So that the bloody Banquo was not worthyto becompared to him. In factI believe a more dreadful apparitionwas neverraised in a church-yardnor in the imagination of anygoodpeople met in a winter evening over a Christmas fire inSomersetshire.

 When the centinel first saw our heroe approachhis hair begangently tolift up his grenadier cap; and in the same instant his kneesfell toblows with each other. Presently his whole body was seizedwith worsethan an ague fit. He then fired his pieceand fell flat onhis face.

 Whether fear or courage was the occasion of his firingor whetherhe tookaim at the object of his terrorI cannot say. If he didhoweverhe had the good fortune to miss his man.

 Jones seeing the fellow fallguessed the cause of his frightatwhich hecould not forbear smilingnot in the least reflecting on thedangerfrom which he had just escaped. He then passed by the fellowwho stillcontinued in the posture in which he felland entered theroom whereNorthertonas he had heardwas confined. Herein asolitarysituationhe found- an empty quart pot standing on thetableonwhich some beer being spiltit looked as if the room hadlatelybeen inhabited; but at present it was entirely vacant.

 Jones then apprehended it might lead to some other apartment; butuponsearching all round ithe could perceive no other door than thatat whichhe enteredand where the centinel had been posted. He thenproceededto call Northerton several times by his name; but no oneanswered;nor did this serve to any other purpose than to confirmthecentinel in his terrorswho was now convinced that thevolunteerwas dead of his woundsand that his ghost was come insearch ofthe murderer: he now lay in all the agonies of horror; and Iwishwithall my heartsome of those actors who are hereafter torepresenta man frighted out of his wits had seen himthat they mightbe taughtto copy natureinstead of performing several antic tricksandgesturesfor the entertainment and applause of the galleries.

 Perceiving the bird was flownat least despairing to find himandrightly apprehending that the report of the firelock would alarmthe wholehouseour heroe now blew out his candleand gently stoleback againto his chamberand to his bed; whither he would not havebeen ableto have gotten undiscoveredhad any other person been onthe samestaircasesave only one gentleman who was confined to hisbed by thegout; for before he could reach the door to his chamberthe hallwhere the centinel had been posted was half full of peoplesome intheir shirtsand others not half drestall very earnestlyenquiringof each other what was the matter.

  Thesoldier was now found lying in the same place and posture inwhich wejust now left him. Several immediately applied themselvesto raisehimand some concluded him dead; but they presently sawtheirmistakefor he not only struggled with those who laid theirhands onhimbut fell a roaring like a bull. In realityheimaginedso many spirits or devils were handling him; for hisimaginationbeing possessed with the horror of an apparitionconvertedevery object he saw or felt into nothing but ghosts andspectres.

  Atlength he was overpowered by numbersand got upon his legs; whencandlesbeing broughtand seeing two or three of his comradespresenthe came a little to himself; but when they asked him what wasthematter? he answered"I am a dead manthat's allI am a deadmanIcan't recover itI have seen him."

"What hast thou seenJack?"says one of the soldiers. "WhyI have seen the young volunteerthat waskilled yesterday." He then imprecated the most heavy cursesonhimselfif he had not seen the volunteerall over bloodvomitingfire outof his mouth and nostrilspass by him into the chamber whereEnsignNortherton wasand then seizing the ensign by the throatfly awaywith him in a clap of thunder.

 This relation met with a gracious reception from the audience. Allthe womenpresent believed it firmlyand prayed Heaven to defend themfrommurder. Amongst the men toomany had faith in the story; butothersturned it into derision and ridicule; and a serjeant who waspresentanswered very coolly"Young manyou will hear more ofthisforgoing to sleep and dreaming on your post."

  Thesoldier replied"You may punish me if you please; but I wasas broadawake as I am now; and the devil carry me awayas he haththeensignif I did not see the dead manas I tell youwith eyes asbig and asfiery as two large flambeaux."

  Thecommander of the forcesand the commander of the housewerenow botharrived; for the former being awake at the timeandhearingthe centinel fire his piecethought it his duty to riseimmediatelythough he had no great apprehensions of any mischief;whereasthe apprehensions of the latter were much greaterlest herspoons andtankards should be upon the marchwithout havingreceivedany such orders from her.

  Ourpoor centinelto whom the sight of this officer was not muchmorewelcome than the apparitionas he thought itwhich he hadseenbeforeagain related the dreadful storyand with many additionsof bloodand fire; but he had the misfortune to gain no credit witheither ofthe last-mentioned persons: for the officerthough a veryreligiousmanwas free from all terrors of this kind; besideshavingso latelyleft Jones in the condition we have seenhe had nosuspicionof his being dead. As for the landladythough not overreligiousshe had no kind of aversion to the doctrine of spirits; butthere wasa circumstance in the tale which she well knew to befalseaswe shall inform the reader presently.

  Butwhether Northerton was carried away in thunder or fireor inwhateverother manner he was goneit was now certain that his bodywas nolonger in custody. Upon this occasion the lieutenant formed aconclusionnot very different from what the serjeant is just mentionedto havemade beforeand immediately ordered the centinel to betakenprisoner. So thatby a strange reverse of fortune (though notveryuncommon in a military life)the guard became the guarded.

Chapter15
Theconclusion of the foregoing adventure

 Besides the suspicion of sleepthe lieutenant harboured another andworsedoubt against the poor centineland this wasthat oftreachery;for as he believed not one syllable of the apparitionsoheimagined the whole to be an invention formed only to impose uponhimandthat the fellow had in reality been bribed by Northerton tolet himescape. And this he imagined the ratheras the frightappearedto him the more unnatural in one who had the character ofas braveand bold a man as any in the regimenthaving been in severalactionshaving received several woundsandin a wordhavingbehavedhimself always like a good and valiant soldier.

 That the readerthereforemay not conceive the least ill opinionof such apersonwe shall not delay a moment in rescuing hischaracterfrom the imputation of this guilt.

  Mr.Northerton thenas we have before observedwas fully satisfiedwith theglory which he had obtained from this action. He hadperhapsseenor heardor guessedthat envy is apt to attend fame.Not that Iwould here insinuate that he was heathenishly inclined tobelieve inor to worship the goddess Nemesis: forin factI amconvincedhe never heard of her name. He wasbesidesof an activedispositionand had a great antipathy to those close quarters inthe castleof Gloucesterfor which a justice of peace mightpossiblygive him a billet. Nor was he moreover free from someuneasymeditations on a certain wooden edificewhich I forbear tonameinconformity to the opinion of mankindwhoI thinkratherought tohonour than to be ashamed of this buildingas it isor atleastmight be madeof more benefit to society than almost anyotherpublic erection. In a wordto hint at no more reasons for hisconductMr. Northerton was desirous of departing that eveningandnothingremained for him but to contrive the quomodowhich appearedto be amatter of some difficulty.

  Nowthis young gentlemanthough somewhat crooked in his moralswasperfectlystraight in his personwhich was extremely strong andwell made.His face too was accounted handsome by the generality ofwomenforit was broad and ruddywith tolerably good teeth. Suchcharms didnot fail making an impression on my landladywho had nolittlerelish for this kind of beauty. She hadindeeda realcompassionfor the young man; and hearing from the surgeon thataffairswere like to go ill with the volunteershe suspected theymighthereafter wear no benign aspect with the ensign. Havingobtainedthereforeleave to make him a visitand finding him in averymelancholy moodwhich she considerably heightened by telling himthere werescarce any hopes of the volunteer's lifeshe proceededto throwforth some hintswhich the other readily and eagerlytaking upthey soon came to a right understanding; and it was atlengthagreed that the ensign shouldat a certain signalascendthechimneywhich communicating very soon with that of the kitchenhe mightthere again let himself down; for which she would give him anopportunityby keeping the coast clear.

  Butlest our readersof a different complexionshould take thisoccasionof too hastily condemning all compassion as a follyandperniciousto societywe think proper to mention another particularwhichmight possibly have some little share in this action. The ensignhappenedto be at this time possessed of the sum of fifty poundswhich didindeed belong to the whole company; for the captain havingquarrelledwith his lieutenanthad entrusted the payment of hiscompany tothe ensign. This moneyhoweverhe thought proper todeposit inmy landlady's handpossibly by way of bail or securitythat hewould hereafter appear and answer to the charge against him;butwhatever were the conditionscertain it isthat she had themoney andthe ensign his liberty.

  Thereader may perhaps expectfrom the compassionate temper of thisgoodwomanthat when she saw the poor centinel taken prisoner for afact ofwhich she knew him innocentshe should immediately haveinterposedin his behalf; but whether it was that she had alreadyexhaustedall her compassion in the above-mentioned instanceorthat thefeatures of this fellowthough not very different from thoseof theensigncould not raise itI will not determine; butfar frombeing anadvocate for the present prisonershe urged his guilt to hisofficerdeclaringwith uplifted eyes and handsthat she would nothave hadany concern in the escape of a murderer for all the world.

 Everything was now once more quietand most of the company returnedagain totheir beds; but the landladyeither from the naturalactivityof her dispositionor from her fear for her platehaving nopropensityto sleepprevailed with the officersas they were tomarchwithin little more than an hourto spend that time with herover abowl of punch.

 Jones had lain awake all this whileand had heard great part of thehurry andbustle that had passedof which he had now some curiosityto knowthe particulars. He therefore applied to his bellwhich herung atleast twenty times without any effect: for my landlady wasin suchhigh mirth with her companythat no clapper could be heardthere buther own; and the drawer and chambermaidwho were sittingtogetherin the kitchen (for neither durst he sit up nor she lie inbedalone)the more they heard the bell ring the more they werefrightenedand as it were nailed down in their places.

  Atlastat a lucky interval of chatthe sound reached the earsof ourgood landladywho presently sent forth her summonswhichboth herservants instantly obeyed. "Joe" says the mistress"don'tyou hearthe gentleman's bell ring? Why don't you go up?"

"It isnotmybusiness" answered the drawer"to wait upon the chambers-it isBettyChambermaid's."

"If you come to that" answered themaid"it isnot mybusiness to wait upon gentlemen. I have done it indeedsometimes;but the devil fetch me if ever I do againsince you makeyourpreambles about it." The bell still ringing violentlytheirmistressfell into a passionand sworeif the drawer did not go upimmediatelyshe would turn him away that very morning. "If you domadam"says he"I can't help it. I won't do another servant'sbusiness."She then applied herself to the maidand endeavoured toprevail bygentle means; but all in vain: Betty was as inflexible asjoe. Bothinsisted it was not their businessand they would not doit.

  Thelieutenant then fell a laughingand said"ComeI will putan end tothis contention"; and then turning to the servantscommendedthem for their resolution in not giving up the point; butaddedhewas sureif one would consent to go the other would. Towhichproposal they both agreed in an instantand accordingly. wentup verylovingly and close together. When they were gonethelieutenantappeased the wrath of the landladyby satisfying her whythey wereboth so unwilling to go alone.

 They returned soon afterand acquainted their mistressthat thesickgentleman was so far from being deadthat he spoke as heartilyas if hewas well; and that he gave his service to the captainandshould bevery glad of the favour of seeing him before he marched.

  Thegood lieutenant immediately complied with his desiresandsittingdown by his bedsideacquainted him with the scene which hadhappenedbelowconcluding with his intentions to make an example ofthecentinel.

 Upon this Jones related to him the whole truthand earnestly beggedhim not topunish the poor soldier"whoI am confident" says he"isas innocent of the ensign's escapeas he is of forging any lieor ofendeavouring to impose on you."

  Thelieutenant hesitated a few momentsand then answered: "Whyas youhave cleared the fellow of one part of the chargeso it willbeimpossible to prove the otherbecause he was not the onlycentinel.But I have a good mind to punish the rascal for being acoward.Yet who knows what effect the terror of such an apprehensionmay have?andto say the truthhe hath always behaved well againstan enemy.Comeit is a good thing to see any sign of religion inthesefellows; so I promise you shall be set at liberty when we march.But harkthe general beats. My dear boygive me another buss.Don'tdiscompose nor hurry yourself; but remember the Christiandoctrineof patienceand I warrant you will soon be able to doyourselfjusticeand to take an honourable revenge on the fellowwho hathinjured you." The lieutenant then departedand Jonesendeavouredto compose himself to rest.

BOOK VIIICONTAININGABOUT TWO DAYS

Chapter1
Awonderful long chapter concerning the marvellous; being much thelongest ofall our introductory chapters

  Aswe are now entering upon a book in which the course of ourhistorywill oblige us to relate some matters of a more strange andsurprizingkind than any which have hitherto occurredit may not beamissinthe prolegomenous or introductory chapterto saysomethingof that species of writing which is called the marvellous.To this weshallas well for the sake of ourselves as of othersendeavourto set some certain boundsand indeed nothing can be morenecessaryas critics of different complexions are hereapt to runinto verydifferent extremes; for while some arewith M. Dacierready toallowthat the same thing which is impossible may be yetprobableothers have so little historic or poetic faiththattheybelieve nothing to be either possible or probablethe like towhich hathnot occurred to their own observation.

 FirstthenI think it may very reasonably be required of everywriterthat he keeps within the bounds of possibility; and stillremembersthat what it is not possible for man to performit isscarcepossible for man to believe he did perform. This convictionperhapsgave birth to many stories of the antient heathen deities (formost ofthem are of poetical original). The poetbeing desirous toindulge awanton and extravagant imaginationtook refuge in thatpowerofthe extent of which his readers were no judgesor ratherwhich theyimagined to be infiniteand consequently they could not beshocked atany prodigies related of it. This hath been stronglyurged indefence of Homer's miracles; and it is perhaps a defence;notasMr. Pope would have itbecause Ulysses told a set offoolishlies to the Phaeacianswho were a very dull nation; butbecausethe poet himself wrote to heathensto whom poetical fableswerearticles of faith. For my own partI must confesssocompassionateis my temperI wish Polypheme had confined himself tohis milkdietand preserved his eye; nor could Ulysses be much moreconcernedthan myselfwhen his companions were turned into swine byCircewhoshowedI thinkafterwardstoo much regard for man'sflesh tobe supposed capable of converting it into bacon. I wishlikewisewith all my heartthat Homer could have known the ruleprescribedby Horaceto introduce supernatural agents as seldom aspossible.We should not then have seen his gods coming on trivialerrandsand often behaving themselves so as not only to forfeit alltitle torespectbut to become the objects of scorn and derision. Aconductwhich must have shocked the credulity of a pious and sagaciousheathen;and which could never have been defendedunless byagreeingwith a supposition to which I have been sometimes almostinclinedthat this most glorious poetas he certainly washad anintent toburlesque the superstitious faith of his own age andcountry.

  ButI have rested too long on a doctrine which can be of no use to aChristianwriter; for as he cannot introduce into his works any ofthatheavenly host which make a part of his creedso it is horridpuerilityto search the heathen theology for any of those deitieswho havebeen long since dethroned from their immortality. LordShaftesburyobservesthat nothing is more cold than the invocation ofa muse bya modern; he might have addedthat nothing can be moreabsurd. Amodern may with much more elegance invoke a balladassome havethought Homer didor a mug of alewith the author ofHudibras;which latter may perhaps have inspired much more poetryas well asprosethan all the liquors of Hippocrene or Helicon.

  Theonly supernatural agents which can in any manner be allowed tousmodernsare ghosts; but of these I would advise an author to beextremelysparing. These are indeedlike arsenicand other dangerousdrugs inphysicto be used with the utmost caution; nor would Iadvise theintroduction of them at all in those worksor by thoseauthorsto whichor to whoma horselaugh in the reader would be anygreatprejudice or mortification.

  Asfor elves and fairiesand other such mummeryI purposely omitthemention of themas I should be very unwilling to confine withinany boundsthose surprizing imaginationsfor whose vast capacitythe limitsof human nature are too narrow; whose works are to beconsideredas a new creation; and who have consequently just rightto do whatthey will with their own.

  Mantherefore is the highest subject (unless on very extraordinaryoccasionsindeed) which presents itself to the pen of our historianor of ourpoet; andin relating his actionsgreat care is to betaken thatwe do not exceed the capacity of the agent we describe.

  Noris possibility alone sufficient to justify us; we must keeplikewisewithin the rules of probability. It isI thinktheopinion ofAristotle; or if notit is the opinion of some wise manwhoseauthority will be as weighty when it is as old"That it is noexcuse fora poet who relates what is incrediblethat the thingrelated isreally matter of fact." This may perhaps be allowed truewithregard to poetrybut it may be thought impracticable to extendit to thehistorian; for he is obliged to record matters as he findsthemthough they may be of so extraordinary a nature as willrequire nosmall degree of historical faith to swallow them. Suchwas thesuccessless armament of Xerxes described by Herodotusorthesuccessful expedition of Alexander related by Arrian. Such oflateryears was the victory of Agincourt obtained by Harry theFifthorthat of Narva won by Charles the Twelfth of Sweden. Allwhichinstancesthe more we reflect on themappear still the moreastonishing.

 Such factshoweveras they occur in the thread of the storynayindeedas they constitute the essential parts of itthehistorianis not only justifiable in recording as they reallyhappenedbut indeed would be unpardonable should he omit or alterthem. Butthere are other facts not of such consequence nor sonecessarywhichthough ever so well attestedmay nevertheless besacrificedto oblivion in complacence to the scepticism of a reader.Such isthat memorable story of the ghost of George Villierswhichmight withmore propriety have been made a present of to Dr.Drelincourtto have kept the ghost of Mrs. Veale companyat the headof hisDiscourse upon Deaththan have been introduced into sosolemn awork as the History of the Rebellion.

  Tosay the truthif the historian will confine himself to whatreallyhappenedand utterly reject any circumstancewhichthoughnever sowell attestedhe must be well assured is falsehe willsometimesfall into the marvellousbut never into the incredible.He willoften raise the wonder and surprize of his readerbut neverthatincredulous hatred mentioned by Horace. It is by falling intofictionthereforethat we generally offend against this ruleofdesertingprobabilitywhich the historian seldomif everquitstill heforsakes his character and commences a writer of romance. Inthishoweverthose historians who relate public transactionshavetheadvantage of us who confine ourselves to scenes of private life.The creditof the former is by common notoriety supported for a longtime; andpublic recordswith the concurrent testimony of manyauthorsbear evidence to their truth in future ages. Thus a Trajanand anAntoninusa Nero and a Caligulahave all met with thebelief ofposterity; and no one doubts but that men so very goodand sovery badwere once the masters of mankind.

  Butwe who deal in private characterwho search into the mostretiredrecessesand draw forth examples of virtue and vice fromholes andcorners of the worldare in a more dangerous situation.As we haveno public notorietyno concurrent testimonyno records tosupportand corroborate what we deliverit becomes us to keepwithin thelimits not only of possibilitybut of probability too; andthis moreespecially in painting what is greatly good and amiable.Knaveryand follythough never so exorbitantwill more easily meetwithassent; for ill nature adds great support and strength to faith.

 Thus we mayperhapswith little dangerrelate the history ofFisher;who having long owed his bread to the generosity of Mr. Derbyand havingone morning received a considerable bounty from hishandsyetin order to possess himself of what remained in hisfriend'sscrutoreconcealed himself in a public office of the Templethroughwhich there was a passage into Mr. Derby's chambers. Here heoverheardMr. Derby for many hours solacing himself at anentertainmentwhich he that evening gave his friendsand to whichFisher hadbeen invited. During all this timeno tendernogratefulreflections arose to restrain his purpose; but when thepoorgentleman had let his company out through the officeFisher camesuddenlyfrom his lurking-placeand walking softly behind hisfriendinto his chamberdischarged a pistol-ball into his head.This maybe believed when the bones of Fisher are as rotten as hisheart.Nayperhapsit will be creditedthat the villain went twodaysafterwards with some young ladies to the play of Hamlet; and withanunaltered countenance heard one of the ladieswho little suspectedhow nearshe was to the personcry out"Good God! if the man thatmurderedMr. Derby was now present!" manifesting in this a more searedandcallous conscience than even Nero himself; of whom we are toldbySuetonius"that the consciousness of his guiltafter the deathofhismotherbecame immediately intolerableand so continued; norcould allthe congratulations of the soldiersof the senateandthepeopleallay the horrors of his conscience."

  Butnowon the other handshould I tell my readerthat I hadknown aman whose penetrating genius had enabled him to raise alargefortune in a way where no beginning was chaulked out to him;that hehad done this with the most perfect preservation of hisintegrityand not only without the least injustice or injury to anyoneindividual personbut with the highest advantage to tradeanda vastincrease of the public revenue; that he had expended one partof theincome of this fortune in discovering a taste superior to mostby workswhere the highest dignity was united with the purestsimplicityand another part in displaying a degree of goodnesssuperiorto all menby acts of charity to objects whose onlyrecommendationswere their meritsor their wants; that he was mostindustriousin searching after merit in distressmost eager torelieveitand then as careful (perhaps too careful) to concealwhat hehad done; that his househis furniturehis gardenshistablehisprivate hospitalityand his public beneficencealldenotedthe mind from which they flowedand were all intrinsicallyrich andnoblewithout tinselor external ostentation; that hefilledevery relation in life with the most adequate virtue; that hewas mostpiously religious to his Creatormost zealously loyal to hissovereign;a most tender husband to his wifea kind relationamunificentpatrona warm and firm frienda knowing and a chearfulcompanionindulgent to his servantshospitable to his neighbourscharitableto the poorand benevolent to all mankind. Should I add tothese theepithets of wisebraveelegantand indeed every otheramiableepithet in our languageI might surely say

    -Quis credet? nemo Hercule! nemo;
    Vel duovel nemo;

and yet Iknow a man who is all I have here described. But a singleinstance(and I really know not such another) is not sufficient tojustifyuswhile we are writing to thousands who never heard of thepersonnor of anything like him. Such rarae aves should be remittedto theepitaph writeror to some poet who may condescend to hitch himin adistichor to slide him into a rhime with an air of carelessnessandneglectwithout giving any offence to the reader.

  Inthe last placethe actions should be such as may not only bewithin thecompass of human agencyand which human agents mayprobablybe supposed to do; but they should be likely for the veryactors andcharacters themselves to have performed; for what may beonlywonderful and surprizing in one manmay become improbableorindeedimpossiblewhen related of another.

 This last requisite is what the dramatic critics call conversationofcharacter; and it requires a very extraordinary degree of judgmentand a mostexact knowledge of human nature.

  Itis admirably remarked by a most excellent writerthat zeal canno morehurry a man to act in direct opposition to itselfthan arapidstream can carry a boat against its own current. I willventure tosaythat for a man to act in direct contradiction to thedictatesof his natureisif not impossibleas improbable and asmiraculousas anything which can well be conceived. Should the bestparts ofthe story of M. Antoninus be ascribed to Neroor shouldthe worstincidents of Nero's life be imputed to Antoninuswhat wouldbe moreshocking to belief than either instance? whereas both thesebeingrelated of their proper agentconstitute the truly marvellous.

  Ourmodern authors of comedy have fallen almost universally into theerror herehinted at; their heroes generally are notorious roguesandtheirheroines abandoned jadesduring the first four acts; but in thefifththeformer become very worthy gentlemenand the latter womenof virtueand discretion: nor is the writer often so kind as to givehimselfleast trouble to reconcile or account for this monstrouschange andincongruity. There isindeedno other reason to beassignedfor itthan because the play is drawing to a conclusion;as if itwas no less natural in a rogue to repent in the last act of aplaythanin the last of his life; which we perceive to begenerallythe case at Tyburna place which might indeed close thescene ofsome comedies with much proprietyas the heroes in these aremostcommonly eminent for those very talents which not only bringmen to thegallowsbut enable them to make an heroic figure when theyare there.

 Within these few restrictionsI thinkevery writer may bepermittedto deal as much in the wonderful as he pleases; nayif hethus keepswithin the rules of credibilitythe more he can surprizethe readerthe more he will engage his attentionand the more he willcharm him.As a genius of the highest rank observes in his fifthchapter ofthe Bathos"The great art of all poetry is to mix truthwithfictionin order to join the credible with the surprizing."

  Forthough every good author will confine himself within thebounds ofprobabilityit is by no means necessary that hischaractersor his incidentsshould be tritecommonor vulgar; suchas happenin every streetor in every houseor which may be met within thehome articles of a newspaper. Nor must he be inhibited fromshowingmany persons and thingswhich may possibly have neverfallenwithin the knowledge of great part of his readers. If thewriterstrictly observes the rules above mentionedhe hath dischargedhis part;and is then intitled to some faith from his readerwho isindeedguilty of critical infidelity if he disbelieves him.

  Forwant of a portion of such faithI remember the character of ayoung ladyof qualitywhich was condemned on the stage for beingunnaturalby the unanimous voice of a very large assembly of clerksandapprentices; though it had the previous suffrages of many ladiesof thefirst rank; one of whomvery eminent for her understandingdeclaredit was the picture of half the young people of heracquaintance.

Chapter2
In whichthe landlady pays a visit to Mr. Jones

 When Jones had taken leave of his friend the lieutenantheendeavouredto close his eyesbut all in vain; his spirits were toolively andwakeful to be lulled to sleep. So having amusedorrathertormentedhimself with the thoughts of his Sophia till itwas opendaylighthe called for some tea; upon which occasion mylandladyherself vouchsafed to pay him a visit.

 This was indeed the first time she had seen himor at least hadtaken anynotice of him; but as the lieutenant had assured her that hewascertainly some young gentleman of fashionshe now determined toshow himall the respect in her power; forto speak trulythis wasone ofthose houses where gentlemento use the language ofadvertisementsmeet with civil treatment for their money.

  Shehad no sooner begun to make his teathan she likewise begantodiscourse:

"La! sir" said she"I think it is greatpity thatsuch apretty young gentleman should under-value himself soas to goabout withthese soldier fellows. They call themselves gentlemenIwarrantyou; butas my first husband used to saythey shouldrememberit is we that pay them. And to be sure it is very hard uponus to beobliged to pay themand to keep 'um tooas we publicansare. I hadtwenty of 'um last nightbesides officers: nayfor mattero' thatIhad rather have the soldiers than officers: for nothingis evergood enough for those sparks; and I am sureif you was to seethe bills;la! sirit is nothing. I have had less troubleIwarrantyouwith a good squire's familywhere we take forty or fiftyshillingsof a nightbesides horses. And yet I warrants methereis narrowa one of those officer fellows but looks upon himself tobe as goodas arrow a squire of L500 a year. To be sure it doth megood tohear their men run about after 'umcrying your honourandyourhonour. Marry come up with such honourand an ordinary at ashilling ahead. Then there's such swearing among 'umto be sure itfrightensme out o' my wits: I thinks nothing can ever prosper withsuchwicked people. And here one of 'um has used you in so barbarous amanner. Ithought indeed how well the rest would secure him; theyall hangtogether; for if you had been in danger of deathwhich Iam glad tosee you are notit would have been all as one to suchwickedpeople. They would have let the murderer go. Laud have mercyupon 'um;I would not have such a sin to answer forfor the wholeworld. Butthough you are likelywith the blessingto recoverthereis laa forhim yet; and if you will employ lawyer SmallI darest beswornhe'll make the fellow fly the country for him; though perhapshe'll havefled the country before; for it is here to-day and goneto-morrowwith such chaps. I hopehoweveryou will learn more witfor thefutureand return back to your friends; I warrant they areallmiserable for your loss; and if they was but to know what hadhappened-Lamy seeming! I would not for the world they should.Comecomewe know very well what all the matter is; but if onewon'tanother will; so pretty a gentleman need never want a lady. Iam sureif I was youI would see the finest she that ever wore aheadhangedbefore I would go for a soldier for her.- Naydon'tblush so"(for indeed he did to a violent degree). "Whyyou thoughtsirIknew nothing of the matterI warrant youabout MadamSophia."

"How" says Jonesstarting up"do you know mySophia?"

"DoI! ay marry" cries the landlady; "many's the time hath shelainin thishouse."

"with her auntI suppose" says Jones. "Whythereit isnow" cries the landlady"AyayayI know the old ladyverywell. Anda sweet young creature is Madam Sophiathat's the truthon't."

"A sweet creature" cries Jones; "O heavens!"

    Angels are painted fair to look like her.
    There's in her all that we believe of heav'n
    Amazing brightnesspurityand truth
    Eternal joy and everlasting love.

 "And could I ever have imagined that you had known my Sophia!"

"Iwish"says the landlady"you knew half so much of her. What wouldyou havegiven to have sat by her bed-side? What a delicious neckshe hath!Her lovely limbs have stretched themselves in that verybed younow lie in."

"Here!" cries Jones: "hath Sophiaever laidhere?"

"Ayayhere; therein that very bed" says the landlady;"whereI wish you had her this moment; and she may wish so too foranything Iknow to the contraryfor she hath mentioned your name tome."

"Ha!" cries he; "did she ever mention her poor Jones?Youflatter menow: I can never believe so much."

"Whythen"answeredshe"asI hope to be savedand may the devil fetch me if I speak asyllablemore than the truthI have heard her mention Mr. Jones; butin a civiland modest wayI confess; yet I could perceive she thoughta greatdeal more than she said."

"O my dear woman!" criesJones"herthoughts of me I shall never be worthy of. Ohshe is allgentlenesskindnessgoodness! Why was such a rascal as I bornever togive her soft bosom a moment's uneasiness? Why am I cursed?I whowould undergo all the plagues and miseries which any daemon everinventedfor mankindto procure her any good; naytorture itselfcould notbe misery to medid I but know that she was happy."

"Whylook youthere now" says the landlady; "I told her you was aconstantlovier."

"But praymadamtell me when or where you knew anythingof me; forI never was here beforenor do I remember ever to haveseenyou."

"Nor is it possible you should" answered she;"for youwas alittle thing when I had you in my lap at the squire's."

"Howthesquire's?" says Jones: "whatdo you know that great andgood Mr.Allworthythen?"

"Yesmarrydo says she: "who in the countrydothnot?"

"The fame of his goodness indeed" answered Jones"musthaveextendedfarther than this; but heaven only can know him- can knowthatbenevolence which it copied from itselfand sent upon earth asits ownpattern. Mankind are as ignorant of such divine goodnessasthey areunworthy of it; but none so unworthy of it as myself. Iwho wasraised by him to such a height; taken inas you must wellknowapoor base-born childadopted by himand treated as his ownsontodare by my follies to disoblige himto draw his vengeanceupon me.YesI deserve it all; for I will never be so ungrateful asever tothink he hath done an act of injustice by me. NoI deserve tobe turnedout of doorsas I am. And nowmadam" says he"Ibelieveyou will not blame me for turning soldierespecially withsuch afortune as this in my pocket." At which words he shook a pursewhich hadbut very little in itand which still appeared to thelandladyto have less.

  Mygood landlady was (according to vulgar phrase) struck all of aheap bythis relation. She answered coldly"That to be sure peoplewere thebest judges what was most proper for their circumstances. Buthark"says she"I think I hear somebody call. Coming! coming! thedevil's inall our volk; nobody hath any ears. I must godown-stairs;if you want any more breakfast the maid will come up.Coming!"At which wordswithout taking any leaveshe flung out ofthe room;for the lower sort of people are very tenacious ofrespect;and though they are contented to give this gratis topersons ofqualityyet they never confer it on those of their ownorderwithout taking care to be well paid for their pains.

Chapter3
In whichthe surgeon makes his second appearance

 Before we proceed any fartherthat the reader may not be mistakeninimagining the landlady knew more than she didnor surprized thatshe knewso muchit may be necessary to inform him that thelieutenanthad acquainted her that the name of Sophia had been theoccasionof the quarrel; and as for the rest of her knowledgethesagaciousreader will observe how she came by it in the precedingscene.Great curiosity was indeed mixed with her virtues; and sheneverwillingly suffered any one to depart from her housewithoutenquiringas much as possible into their namesfamiliesandfortunes.

  Shewas no sooner gone than Jonesinstead of animadverting on herbehaviourreflected that he was in the same bed which he was informedhad heldhis dear Sophia. This occasioned a thousand fond and tenderthoughtswhich we would dwell longer upondid we not consider thatsuch kindof lovers will make a very inconsiderable part of ourreaders.In this situation the surgeon found himwhen he came todress hiswound. The doctor perceivingupon examinationthat hispulse wasdisorderedand hearing that he had not sleptdeclared thathe was ingreat dangerfor he apprehended a fever was coming onwhich hewould have prevented by bleedingbut Jones would not submitdeclaringhe would lose no more blood; "anddoctor" says he"ifyouwill be sokind only to dress my headI have no doubt of being wellin a dayor two."

  "Iwish" answered the surgeon"I could assure your beingwell in amonth ortwo. Wellindeed! Nonopeople are not so soon well ofsuchcontusions; butsirI am not at this time of day to beinstructedin my operations by a patientand I insist on making arevulsionbefore I dress you."

 Jones persisted obstinately in his refusaland the doctor at lastyielded;telling him at the same time that he would not beanswerablefor the ill consequenceand hoped he would do him thejustice toacknowledge that he had given him a contrary advice;which thepatient promised he would.

  Thedoctor retired into the kitchenwhereaddressing himself tothelandladyhe complained bitterly of the undutiful behaviour of hispatientwho would not be bloodedthough he was in a fever.

  "Itis an eating fever then" says the landlady; "for he hathdevouredtwo swinging buttered toasts this morning for breakfast."

 "Very likely" says the doctor: "I have known peopleeat in a fever;and it isvery easily accounted for; because the acidity occasioned bythefebrile matter may stimulate the nerves of the diaphragmandtherebyoccasion a craving which will not be easily distinguishablefrom anatural appetite; but the aliment will not be correctednorassimilatedinto chyleand so will corrode the vascular orificesandthus willaggravate the febrific symptoms. IndeedI think thegentlemanin a very dangerous wayandif he is not bloodedI amafraidwill die."

 "Every man must die some time or other" answered the goodwoman;"itis no business of mine. I hopedoctoryou would not have me holdhim whileyou bleed him. Buthark'eea word in your ear; I wouldadviseyoubefore you proceed too farto take care who is to be yourpaymaster."

 "Paymaster!" said the doctorstaring; "whyI've agentlemanunder myhandshave I not?"

  "Iimagined so as well as you" said the landlady; "butas myfirsthusbandused to sayeverything is not what it looks to be. He is anarrantscrubI assure you. Howevertake no notice that I mentionedanythingto you of the matter; but I think people in business oftalways tolet one another know such things."

 "And have I suffered such a fellow as this" cries thedoctorina passion"to instruct me? Shall I hear my practice insulted by onewho willnot pay me? I am glad I have made this discovery in time. Iwill seenow whether he will be blooded or no." He then immediatelywentupstairsand flinging open the door of the chamber with muchviolenceawaked poor Jones from a very sound napinto which he wasfallenandwhat was still worsefrom a delicious dream concerningSophia.

 "Will you be blooded or no?" cries the doctorin a rage."I havetold youmy resolution already" answered Jones"and I wish withall myheart you had taken my answer; for you have awaked me out ofthesweetest sleep which I ever had in my life."

 "Ayay" cries the doctor; "many a man hath dozedaway his life.Sleep isnot always goodno more than food; but rememberI demand ofyou forthe last timewill you be blooded?"

"I answer you for thelasttime" said Jones"I will not."

"Then I wash myhands of you"cries thedoctor; "and I desire you to pay me for the trouble I havehadalready. Two journeys at 5s. eachtwo dressings at 5s. moreand half acrown for phlebotomy."

"I hope" said Jones"youdon'tintend toleave me in this condition."

"Indeed but I shall"saidthe other."Then" said Jones"you have used me rascallyand Iwill notpay you a farthing."

"Very well" cries the doctor;"thefirst lossis the best. What a pox did my landlady mean by sending forme to suchvagabonds!" At which words he flung out of the roomandhispatient turning himself about soon recovered his sleep; but hisdream wasunfortunately gone.

Chapter4
In whichis introduced one of the pleasantest barbers that waseverrecorded in historythe barber of Bagdador he in DonQuixotenot excepted

  Theclock had now struck five when Jones awaked from a nap ofsevenhoursso much refreshedand in such perfect health andspiritsthat he resolved to get up and dress himself; for whichpurpose heunlocked his portmanteauand took out clean linenand asuit ofcloaths; but first he slipt on a frockand went down into thekitchen tobespeak something that might pacify certain tumults hefoundrising within his stomach.

 Meeting the landladyhe accosted her with great civilityandasked"What he could have for dinner?"

"For dinner!"says she; "itis an oddtime a day to think about dinner. There is nothing drest inthe houseand the fire is almost out."

"Wellsays he"I musthavesomethingto eatand it is almost indifferent to me what; fortotell youthe truthI was never more hungry in my life."

"Then"says she"I believe there is a piece of cold buttock and carrotwhich willfit you."

"Nothing better" answered Jones; "butI shouldbe obligedto youif you would let it be fried." To which thelandladyconsentedand saidsmiling"she was glad to see him sowellrecovered;" for the sweetness of our heroe's temper was almostirresistible;besidesshe was really no ill-humoured woman at thebottom;but she loved money so muchthat she hated everything whichhad thesemblance of poverty.

 Jones now returned in order to dress himselfwhile his dinner waspreparingand wasaccording to his ordersattended by the barber.

 This barberwho went by the name of Little Benjaminwas a fellowof greatoddity and humourwhich had frequently let him into smallinconvenienciessuch as slaps in the facekicks in the breechbrokenbones&c. For every one doth not understand a jest; andthose whodo are often displeased with being themselves the subjectsof it.This vice washoweverincurable in him; and though he hadoftensmarted for ityet if ever he conceived a jokehe wascertain tobe delivered of itwithout the least respect of personstimeorplace.

  Hehad a great many other particularities in his characterwhichI shallnot mentionas the reader will himself very easily perceivethemonhis farther acquaintance with this extraordinary person.

 Jones being impatient to be drestfor a reason which may beeasilyimaginedthought the shaver was very tedious in preparinghis sudsand begged him to make haste; to which the other answeredwith muchgravityfor he never discomposed his muscles on anyaccount"Festina lenteis a proverb which Ilearned long before Ievertouched a razor."

"I findfriendyou are a scholar"repliedJones. "Apoor one" said the barber"non omniapossumusomnes."

"Again!" said Jones; "I fancy you are good at cappingverses."

"Excuse mesir" said the barber"non tanto medignorhonore."And then proceeding to his operation"Sir" said he"sinceI have dealt in sudsI could never discover more than tworeasonsfor shaving; the one is to get a beardand the other to getrid ofone. I conjecturesirit may not be long since you shavedfrom theformer of these motives. Upon my wordyou have had goodsuccess;for one may say of your beardthat it is tondentigravior."

"I conjecture" says Jones"that thou art a verycomicalfellow."

"You mistake me widelysir" said thebarber: "Iam toomuch addicted to the study of philosophy; hinc illaelacrymaesir; that's my misfortune. Too much learning hathbeen myruin."

"Indeed" says Jones"I confessfriendyou havemorelearning than generally belongs to your trade; but I can't seehow it canhave injured you."

"Alas! sir" answered the shaver"myfatherdisinherited me for it. He was a dancing master; and because Icould readbefore I could dancehe took an aversion to meand lefteveryfarthing among his other children.-Will you please to have yourtemples- Ola! I ask your pardonI fancy there is hiatus inmanuscriptis.I heard you was going to the wars; but I find it was amistake."

"Why do you conclude so?" says Jones. "Suresir"answeredthe barber"you are too wise a man to carry a broken headthither;for that would be carrying coals to Newcastle."

 "Upon my word" cries Jones"thou art a very oddfellowand I likethy humourextremely; I shall be very glad if thou wilt come to meafterdinnerand drink a glass with me; I long to be betteracquaintedwith thee."

  "Odear sir!" said the barber"I can do you twenty times asgreat afavourifyou will accept of it."

"What is thatmy friend?"criesJones."WhyI will drink a bottle with you if you please; for Idearlylove good-nature; and as you have found me out to be a comicalfellowsoI have no skill in physiognomyif you are not one of thebest-naturedgentlemen in the universe." Jones now walked downstairsneatlydrestand perhaps the fair Adonis was not a lovelier figure;and yet hehad no charms for my landlady; for as that good woman didnotresemble Venus at all in her personso neither did she in hertaste.Happy had it been for Nanny the chambermaidif she had seenwith theeyes of her mistressfor that poor girl fell so violently inlove withJones in five minutesthat her passion afterwards costher many asigh. This Nanny was extremely prettyand altogether ascoy; forshe had refused a drawerand one or two young farmers in theneighbourhoodbut the bright eyes of our heroe thawed all her icein amoment.

 When Jones returned to the kitchenhis cloth was not yet laid;nor indeedwas there any occasion it shouldhis dinner remaining instatu quoas did the fire which was to dress it. Thisdisappointmentmight have put many a philosophical temper into apassion;but it had no such effect on Jones. He only gave the landladya gentlerebukesaying"Since it was so difficult to get it heatedhe wouldeat the beef cold." But now the good womanwhether movedbycompassionor by shameor by whatever other motiveI cannottellfirst gave her servants a round scold for disobeying theorderswhich she had never givenand then bidding the drawer lay anapkin inthe Sunshe set about the matter in good earnestandsoonaccomplished it.

 This Suninto which Jones was now conductedwas truly namedaslucus anon lucendo; for it was an apartment intowhich the sun hadscarceever looked. It was indeed the worst room in the house; andhappy wasit for Jones that it was so. Howeverhe was now toohungry tofind any fault; but having once satisfied his appetiteheorderedthe drawer to carry a bottle of wine into a better roomandexpressedsome resentment at having been shown into a dungeon.

  Thedrawer having obeyed his commandshe wasafter some timeattendedby the barberwho would not indeed have suffered him to waitso longfor his company had he not been listening in the kitchen tothelandladywho was entertaining a circle that she had gatheredround herwith the history of poor Jonespart of which she hadextractedfrom his own lipsand the other part was her owningeniouscomposition; for she said "he was a poor parish boytakeninto thehouse of Squire Allworthywhere he was bred up as anapprenticeand now turned out of doors for his misdeedsparticularlyfor makinglove to his young mistressand probably for robbing thehouse; forhow else should he come by the little money he hath; andthis"says she"is your gentlemanforsooth!"

"A servantof SquireAllworthy!"says the barber; "what's his name?"

"Why he told mehisname wasJones" says she: "perhaps he goes by a wrong name. Nayand hetold metoothat the squire had maintained him as his ownsonthofhe had quarrelled with him now."

"And if his name beJoneshetold you the truth" said the barber; "for I haverelationswho live in that country; nayand some people say he is hisson."

"Why doth he not go by the name of his father?"

"Ican't tellthat"said the barber; "many people's sons don't go by the name oftheirfather."

"Nay" said the landlady"if I thoughthe was agentleman'ssonthof he was a bye-blowI should behave to him inanotherguess manner; for many of these bye-blows come to be greatmenandas my poor first husband used to saynever affront anycustomerthat's a gentleman."

Chapter5
A dialoguebetween Mr. Jones and the barber

 This conversation passed partly while Jones was at dinner in hisdungeonand partly while he was expecting the barber in theparlour.Andas soon as it was endedMr. Benjaminas we havesaidattended himand was very kindly desired to sit down. Jonesthenfilling out a glass of winedrank his health by theappellationof doctissime tonsorum. "Ago tibigratiasdomine"said thebarber; and then looking very steadfastly at Joneshesaidwithgreat gravityand with a seeming surprizeas if he hadrecollecteda face he had seen before"Sirmay I crave the favour toknow ifyour name is not Jones?" To which the other answered"Thatitwas."

"Proh deum atque hominum fidem!" says the barber; "howstrangelythings come to pass! Mr. JonesI am your most obedientservant. Ifind you do not know mewhich indeed is no wondersinceyou neversaw me but onceand then you was very young. Praysirhowdoth thegood Squire Allworthy? how doth ille optimus omniumpatronus?"

"I find" said Jones"you do indeed know me; but Ihavenot thelike happiness of recollecting you."

"I do not wonder atthat"cries Benjamin; "but I am surprized I did not know yousoonerfor you are not in the least altered. And praysirmay Iwithoutoffenceenquire whither you are travelling this way?"

"Fillthe glassMr. Barber" said Jones"and ask no more questions."

"Naysir" answered Benjamin"I would not be troublesome; and Ihopeyou don'tthink me a man of an impertinent curiosityfor that is avice whichnobody can lay to my charge; but I ask pardon; for when agentlemanof your figure travels without his servantswe may supposehim to beas we sayin casu incognitoand perhaps I ought not tohavementioned your name."

"I own" says Jones"Idid not expect tohave beenso well known in this country as I find I am; yetforparticularreasonsI shall be obliged to you if you will not mentionmy name toany other person till I am gone from hence."

"Paucaverba"answered the barber; "and I wish no other here knew you butmyself;for some people have tongues; but I promise you I can keep asecret. Myenemies will allow me that virtue."

"And yet that is notthecharacteristic of your professionMr. Barber" answered Jones."Alas!sir" replied Benjamin"Non si male nunc et olim sic erit.Iwas notborn nor bred a barberI assure you. I have spent most of mytime amonggentlemenand though I say itI understand something ofgentility.And if you had thought me as worthy of your confidence asyou havesome other peopleI should have shown you I could have kepta secretbetter. I should not have degraded your name in a publickitchen;for indeedsirsome people have not used you well; forbesidesmaking a public proclamation of what you told them of aquarrelbetween yourself and Squire Allworthythey added lies oftheir ownthings which I knew to to be lies."

"You surprize megreatly"cries Jones. Upon my wordsir" answered Benjamin"Itell thetruthand I need not tell you my was the person. I am sureit movedme to hear the storyand I hope it is all false; for Ihave agreat respect for youI do assure you I haveand have hadever sincethe good-nature you showed to Black Georgewhich wastalked ofall over the countryand I received than one letter aboutit.Indeedit made you beloved by everybody. You will pardon metherefore;for it was real concern at what I heard made me ask manyquestions;for I have no impertinent curiosity about me: but lovegood-natureand thence became amoris abundantia erga te."

 Every profession of friendship easily gains credit with themiserable;it is no wonder thereforeif Joneswhobesides his beingmiserablewas extremely open-heartedvery readily believed all theprofessionsof Benjaminand received him into his bosom. The scrapsof Latinsome of which Benjamin applied properly enoughthough itdid notsavour of profound literatureseemed yet to indicatesomethingsuperior to a common barber; and so indeed did his wholebehaviour.Jones therefore believed the truth of what he had saidas to hisoriginal and education; and at lengthafter muchentreatyhe said"Since you have heardmy friendso much of myaffairsand seem so desirous to know the truthif you will havepatienceto hear itI will inform you of the whole."

"Patience!"criesBenjamin"that I willif the chapter was never so long; andI am verymuch obliged to you for the honour you do me."

 Jones now beganand related the whole historyforgetting only acircumstanceor twonamelyeverything which passed on that day inwhich hehad fought with Thwackum; and ended with his resolution to goto seatill the rebellion in the North had made him change hispurposeand had brought him to the place where he then was.

 Little Benjaminwho had been all attentionnever onceinterruptedthe narrative; but when it was ended he could not helpobservingthat there must be surely something more invented by hisenemiesand told Mr. Allworthy against himor so good a man wouldnever havedismissed one he had loved so tenderlyin such a manner.To whichJones answered"He doubted not but such villanous arts hadbeen madeuse of to destroy him."

  Andsurely it was scarce possible for any one to have avoided makingthe sameremark with the barberwho had not indeed heard from Jonesone singlecircumstance upon which he was condemned; for his actionswere notnow placed in those injurious lights in which they had beenmisrepresentedto Allworthy; nor could he mention those many falseaccusationswhich had been from time to time preferred against himtoAllworthy: for with none of these he was himself acquainted. He hadlikewiseas we have observedomitted many material facts in hispresentrelation. Upon the wholeindeedeverything now appeared insuchfavourable colours to Jonesthat malice itself would havefound itno easy matter to fix any blame upon him.

  Notthat Jones desired to conceal or to disguise the truth; nayhe wouldhave been more unwilling to have suffered any censure to fallon Mr.Allworthy for punishing himthan on his own actions fordeservingit; butin realityso it happenedand so it always willhappen;for let a man be never so honestthe account of his ownconductwillin spite of himselfbe so very favourablethat hisvices willcome purified through his lipsandlike foul liquors wellstrainedwill leave all their foulness behind. For though the factsthemselvesmay appearyet so different will be the motivescircumstancesand consequenceswhen a man tells his own storyandwhen hisenemy tells itthat we scarce can recognise the facts tobe one andthe same.

 Though the barber had drank down this story with greedy earshe wasnot yetsatisfied. There was a circumstance behind which hiscuriositycold as it wasmost eagerly longed for. Jones hadmentionedthe fact of his amourand of his being the rival of Blifilbut hadcautiously concealed the name of the young lady. The barberthereforeafter some hesitationand many hums and hahsat lastbeggedleave to crave the name of the ladywho appeared to be theprincipalcause of all this mischief. Jones paused a momentandthen said"Since I have trusted you with so muchand sinceI amafraidher name is become too publick already on this occasionIwill notconceal it from you. Her name is Sophia Western."

 "Proh deum atque hominum fidem! Squire Western hath a daughtergrowna woman!"

"Ayand such a woman" cries Jones"that the worldcannotmatch. No eye ever saw anything so beautiful; but that is herleastexcellence. Such sense! such goodness! OhI could praise herfor everand yet should omit half her virtues!"

"Mr. Western adaughtergrown up!" cries the barber: "I remember the father a boy;wellTempus edax rerum.”

  Thewine being now at an endthe barber pressed very eagerly tobe hisbottle; but Jones absolutely refusedsaying"He had alreadydrank morethan he ought: and that he now chose to retire to his roomwhere hewished he could procure himself a book."

"A book!"criesBenjamin;"what book would you have? Latin or English? I have somecuriousbooks in both languages; such as Erasmi ColloquiaOvid deTristibusGradus ad Parnassum; and in English I have several of thebestbooksthough some of them are a little torn; but I have a greatpart ofStowe's Chronicle; the sixth volume of Pope's Homer; the thirdvolume ofthe Spectator; the second volume of Echard's RomanHistory;the Craftsman; Robinson Crusoe; Thomas a Kempis; and twovolumes ofTom Brown's Works."

 "Those last" cries Jones"are books I never sawsoif youpleaselend me one of those volumes." The barber assured him hewould behighly entertainedfor he looked upon the author to havebeen oneof the greatest wits that ever the nation produced. He thenstepped tohis housewhich was hard byand immediately returned;afterwhichthe barber having received very strict injunctions ofsecrecyfrom Jonesand having sworn inviolably to maintain ittheyseparated;the barber went homeand Jones retired to his chamber.

Chapter6
In whichmore of the talents of Mr. Benjamin will appearas well aswho thisextraordinary person was

  Inthe morning Jones grew a little uneasy at the desertion of hissurgeonas he apprehended some inconvenienceor even dangermightattend thenot dressing wound; he enquired therefore of the drawerwhat othersurgeons were to be met with in that neighbourhood. Thedrawertold himthere was one not far off; but he had known him oftenrefuse tobe concerned after another had been sent for before him;"butsir" says he"if you will take my advicethere is not amanin thekingdom can do your business better than the barber who waswith youlast night. We look upon him to be one of the ablest men at acut in allthis neighbourhood. For though he hath not been hereabovethree monthshe hath done several great cures."

  Thedrawer was presently dispatched for Little Benjaminwho beingacquaintedin what capacity he was wantedprepared himselfaccordinglyand attended; but with so different an air and aspectfrom thatwhich he wore when his basin was under his armthat hecouldscarce be known to be the same person.

 "Sotonsor" says Jones"I find you have more tradesthan one; howcame younot to inform me of this last night?"

"A surgeon"answeredBenjaminwith great gravity"is a professionnot a trade. Thereason whyI did not acquaint you last night that I professed thisartwasthat I then concluded you was under the hands of anothergentlemanand I never love to interfere with my brethren in theirbusiness.Ars omnibus communis. But nowsirif you pleaseI willinspectyour headand when I see into your skullI will give myopinion ofyour case."

 Jones had no great faith in this new professor; howeverhe sufferedhim toopen the bandage and to look at his wound; which as soon ashe haddoneBenjamin began to groan and shake his head violently.Upon whichJonesin a peevish mannerbid him not play the foolbut tellhim in what condition he found him. "Shall I answer you asa surgeonor a friend?" said Benjamin. "As a friendandseriously"said Jones. "Why thenupon my soul" cries Benjamin"itwould require a great deal of art to keep you from being wellafter avery few dressings; and it you will suffer me to apply somesalve ofmineI will answer for the success." Jones gave his consentand theplaister was applied accordingly.

 "Theresir" cries Benjamin: "now I willif youpleaseresumemy formerself; but a man is obliged to keep up some dignity in hiscountenancewhilst he is performing these operationsor the worldwill notsubmit to be handled by him. You can't imaginesirof howmuchconsequence a grave aspect is to a grave character. A barbermay makeyou laughbut a surgeon ought rather to make you cry."

 "Mr. Barberor Mr. Surgeonor Mr. Barber-surgeon" saidJones."Odear sir!" answered Benjamininterrupting him"Infandumreginajubes renovare dolorem.You recall to my mind that cruelseparationof the united fraternitiesso much to the prejudice ofbothbodiesas all separations must beaccording to the old adageVisunita fortior; which to be sure there are not wanting some ofone or ofthe other fraternity who are able to construe. What a blowwas thisto mewho unite both in my own person!"

"Wellby whatevername youplease to be called" continued Jones"you certainly areoneof theoddestmost comical fellows I ever met withand must havesomethingvery surprizing in your storywhich you must confess I havea right tohear."

"I do confess it" answered Benjamin"and willveryreadily acquaint you with itwhen you have sufficient leisurefor Ipromise you it will require a good deal of time." Jones toldhimhecould never be more at leisure than at present. "Wellthen"said Benjamin"I will obey you; but first I will fasten thedoorthatnone interrupt us." He did soand then with a solemn airto Jonessaid: "I must begin by telling yousirthat you yourselfhave beenthe greatest enemy I ever had." Jones was a littlestartledat this sudden declaration. "I your enemysir!" says hewith muchand some sternness in his look. "Naybe not angry" saidBenjamin"for I promise you I am not. You are perfectly innocent ofhavingintended me any wrong; for you was then an infant: but I shallI believeunriddle all this the moment I mention my name. Did youneverhearsirof one Partridgewho had the honour of being reputedyourfatherand the misfortune of being ruined by that honour?"

"Ihaveindeedheard of that Partridge" says Jones"and havealwaysbelievedmyself to be his son."

"Wellsir" answered BenjaminamthatPartridge; but I here absolve you from all filial dutyfor Ido assureyouyou are no son of mine."

"How!" replied Jones"andis itpossible that a false suspicion should have drawn all the illconsequencesupon youwith which I am too well acquainted? "It ispossible"cries Benjamin"for it is so: but though it is natural formen tohate even the innocent causes of their sufferingsyet I amof adifferent temper. I have loved you ever since I heard of yourbehaviourto Black Georgeas I told you; and I am convincedfromthisextraordinary meetingthat you are born to make me amends forall I havesuffered on that account. BesidesI dreamtthe nightbefore Isaw youthat I stumbled over a stool without hurting myself;whichplainly showed me something good was towards me: and lastnight Idreamt againthat I rode behind you on a milk-white marewhich is avery excellent dreamand betokens much good fortunewhichI amresolved to pursue unless you have the cruelty to deny me."

  "Ishould be very gladMr. Partridge" answered Jones"tohaveit in mypower to make you amends for your sufferings on my accountthough atpresent I see no likelihood of it; howeverI assure you Iwill denyyou nothing which is in my power to grant."

  "Itis in your power sure enough" replied Benjamin; "for Idesirenothingmore than leave to attend you in this expedition. NayIhave soentirely set my heart upon itthat if you should refuse meyou willkill both a barber and a surgeon in one breath."

 Jones answeredsmilingthat he should be very sorry to be theoccasionof so much mischief to the public. He then advanced manyprudentialreasonsin order to dissuade Benjamin (whom we shallhereafterPartridge) from his purpose; but all were in vain. Partridgereliedstrongly on his dream of the milk-white mare. "Besidessir"says he"I promise you I have as good an inclination to the causeas any mancan possibly have; and go I willwhether you admit me togo in yourcompany or not."

 Joneswho was as much pleased with Partridge as Partridge couldbe withhimand who had not consulted his own inclination but thegood ofthe other in desiring him to stay behindwhen he found hisfriend soresoluteat last gave his consent; but then recollectinghimselfhe said"PerhapsMr. Partridgeyou think I shall be ableto supportyoubut I really am not;" and then taking out his pursehe toldout nine guineaswhich he declared were his whole fortune.

 Partridge answered"That his dependence was only on his futurefavour;for he was thoroughly convinced he would shortly have enoughin hispower. At presentsir" said he"I believe I am ratherthericher manof the two; but all I have is at your serviceand atyourdisposal. I insist upon your taking the wholeand I beg onlyto attendyou in the quality of your servant; Nil desperandumestTeucroduce et auspice Teucro:but to this generous proposalconcerningthe moneyJones would by no means submit.

  Itwas resolved to set out the next morningwhen a difficulty aroseconcerningthe baggage; for the portmanteau of Mr. Jones was too largeto becarried without a horse.

  "IfI may presume to give my advice" says Partridge"thisportmanteauwith everything in itexcept a few shirtsshould beleftbehind. Those I shall be easily able to carry for youand therest ofyour cloaths will remain very safe locked up in my house."

 This method was no sooner proposed than agreed to; and then thebarberdepartedin order to prepare everything for his intendedexpedition.

Chapter7
Containingbetter reasons than any which have yet appeared for theconduct ofPartridge; an apology for the weakness of Jones; and somefurtheranecdotes concerning my landlady

 Though Partridge was one of the most superstitious of menhewouldhardly perhaps have desired to accompany Jones on his expeditionmerelyfrom the omens of the joint-stool and white mareif hisprospecthad been no better than to have shared the plunder gainedin thefield of battle. In factwhen Partridge came to ruminate ontherelation he had heard from Joneshe could not reconcile tohimselfthat Mr. Allworthy should turn his son (for so he mostfirmlybelieved him to be) out of doorsfor any reason which he hadheardassigned. He concludedthereforethat the whole was a fictionand thatJonesof whom he had often from his correspondents heard thewildestcharacterhad in reality run away from his father. It cameinto hisheadthereforethat if he could prevail with the younggentlemanto return back to his fatherhe should by that means rendera serviceto Allworthywhich would obliterate all his former anger;nayindeedhe conceived that very anger was counterfeitedandthatAllworthy had sacrificed him to his own reputation. And thissuspicionindeed he well accounted forfrom the tender behaviour ofthatexcellent man to the foundling child; from his great severitytoPartridgewhoknowing himself to be innocentcould notconceivethat any other should think him guilty; lastlyfrom theallowancewhich he had privately received long after the annuity hadbeenpublickly taken from himand which he looked upon as a kind ofsmart-moneyor rather by way of atonement for injustice; for it isveryuncommonI believefor men to ascribe the benefactions theyreceive topure charitywhen they can possibly impute them to anyothermotive. If he could by any means therefore persuade the younggentlemanto return homehe doubted not but that he should again bereceivedinto the favour of Allworthyand well rewarded for hispains;nayand should be again restored to his native country; arestorationwhich Ulysses himself never wished more heartily than poorPartridge.

  Asfor Joneshe was well satisfied with the truth of what the otherhadassertedand believed that Partridge had no other inducements butlove tohimand zeal for the cause; a blameable want of caution anddiffidencein the veracity of othersin which he was highly worthy ofcensure.To say the truththere are but two ways by which menbecomepossessed of this excellent quality. The one is from longexperienceand the other is from nature; which lastI presumeis ofmeant bygeniusor great natural parts; and it is infinitely thebetter ofthe twonot only as we are masters of it much earlier inlifebutas it is much more infallible and conclusive; for a manwho hathbeen imposed on by ever so manymay still hope to findothersmore honest; whereas he who receives certain necessaryadmonitionsfrom withinthat this is impossiblemust have verylittleunderstanding indeedif he ever renders himself liable to beoncedeceived. As Jones had not this gift from naturehe was tooyoung tohave gained it by experience; for at the diffident wisdomwhich isto be acquired this waywe seldom arrive till very late inlife;which is perhaps the reason why some old men are apt todespisethe understandings of all those who are a little youngerthanthemselves.

 Jones spent most part of the day in the company of a newacquaintance.This was no other than the landlord of the houseorrather thehusband of the landlady. He had but lately made his descentdownstairsafter a long fit of the goutin which distemper he wasgenerallyconfined to his room during one half of the year; and duringthe resthe walked about the housesmoaked his pipeand drank hisbottlewith his friendswithout concerning himself in the leastwith anykind of business. He had been bredas they call itagentleman;that isbred up to do nothing; and had spent a verysmallfortunewhich he inherited from an industrious farmer hisuncleinhorse-racingand cock-fightingand married by mylandladyfor certain which he had long since desisted fromanswering;for which she hated him heartily. But as he was a surlykind offellowso she contented herself with frequently upbraidinghim bydisadvantageous comparisons with her first husbandwhosepraise shehad in her mouth; and as she was for the most part mistressof theprofitso she was to take upon herself the care and governmentof thefamilyandafter a long successless struggleto suffer herhusband tobe master of himself.

  Inthe eveningwhen Jones retired to his rooma small disputearosebetween this fond couple concerning him:

"What" says thewife"youhave been tippling with the gentlemanI see?"

"Yes"answeredthe husband"we have cracked a bottle togetherand a verygentlemanlikeman he isand hath a very pretty notion of horse-flesh.Indeedheis youngand hath not seen much of the for I believe hehath beenat very few horse-races."

"Oho! he is one of your orderis he?"replies the landlady: "he must be a gentleman to be sureifhe is ahorse-racer. The devil fetch such gentry! I am sure I wish Ihad neverseen any of them. I have reason to love horse-racerstruly!"

"That you have" says the "for I was oneyou know."

"Yes"she"youare a pure one indeed. As my first husband used to sayImay putall the good I have ever got by you in my eyesand seenever theworse."

"D--n your first husband!" cries he. "Don'td--n abetter manthan answered the wife: "if he had been you durst nothave doneit."

"Then you think" says he"I have not somuchcourage asyourself; for you have d--n'd him my in my hearing."

"If Idid"says she"I have repented of it many's the good time and oft.And if hewas so good to forgive me a word in haste or soit doth notbecomesuch a one as you to twitter me. He was a husband to mewas;and ifever I did make use of an ill word or so in a passionInevercalled him rascal; I should have told a lieif I had himrascal."Much more she saidbut not in his hearing; for havinglightedhis pipehe staggered off as fast as he could. We shallthereforetranscribe no more of her speechas it approached stillnearer andnearer to a subject too indelicate to find any place inthishistory.

 Early in the morning Partridge appeared at the bedside of Jonesreadyequipped for the journeywith his knapsack at his back. Thiswas hisown workmanship; for besides his other tradeshe was noindifferenttaylor. He had already put up his whole stock of linenin itconsisting of four shirtsto which he now added eight forMr. Jones;and then packing up the portmanteauhe was departingwith ittowards his own housebut was stopt in his way by thelandladywho refused to suffer any removals till after the payment ofthereckoning.

  Thelandlady wasas we have saidabsolute governess in theseregions;it was therefore necessary to comply with her rules; so thebill waspresently writ outwhich amounted to a much larger sumthan mighthave been expectedfrom the entertainment which Joneshad metwith. But here we are obliged to disclose some maximswhichpublicanshold to be the grand mysteries of their trade. The first isIf theyhave anything good in their house (which indeed very seldomhappens)to produce it only to persons who travel with greatequipages.2dlyTo charge the same for the very worst provisionsas if theywere the best. And lastlyIf any of their guests callbut forlittleto make them pay a double price for everything theyhave; sothat the amount by the head may be much the same.

  Thebill being made and dischargedJones set forward withPartridgecarrying his knapsack; nor did the landlady condescend towish him agood journey; for this wasit seemsan inn frequentedby peopleof fashion; and I know not whence it isbut all those whoget theirlivelihood by people of fashioncontract as muchinsolenceto the rest of mankindas if they really belonged to thatrankthemselves.

Chapter8
Jonesarrives at Gloucesterand goes to the Bell; the characterof thathouseand of a petty-fogger which he there meets with

  Mr.Jones and Partridgeor Little Benjamin (which epithet of Littlewasperhaps given him ironicallyhe being in reality near six feethigh)having left their last quarters in the manner before describedtravelledon to Gloucester without meeting any adventure worthrelating.

 Being arrived herethey chose for their house of entertainmentthe signof the Bellan excellent house indeedand which I do mostseriouslyrecommend to every reader who shall visit this antient city.The masterof it is brother to the great preacher Whitefield; but isabsolutelyuntainted with the pernicious principles of Methodismorof anyother heretical sect. He is indeed a very honest plain manandin myopinionnot likely to create any disturbance either inchurch orstate. His wife hathI believehad much pretension tobeautyand is still a very fine woman. Her person and deportmentmight havemade a shining figure in the politest assemblies; butthough shemust be conscious of this and many other perfectionssheseemsperfectly contented withand resigned tothat state of life towhich sheis called; and this resignation is entirely owing to theprudenceand wisdom of her temper; for she is at present as freefrom anyMethodistical notions as her husband: I say at present; forshe freelyconfesses that her brother's documents made at first someimpressionupon herand that she had put herself to the expense ofa longhoodin order to attend the extraordinary emotions of theSpirit;having foundduring an experiment of three weeksnoemotionsshe saysworth a farthingshe very wisely laid by herhoodandabandoned the sect. To be conciseshe is a very friendlygood-naturedwoman; and so industrious to obligethat the guests mustbe of verymorose disposition who are not extremely well satisfiedin herhouse.

 Mrs. Whitefield happened to be in the yard when Jones and hisattendantmarched in. Her sagacity soon discovered in the air of ourheroesomething which distinguished him from the vulgar. She orderedherservantsthereforeimmediately to show him into a roomandpresentlyafterwards invited him to dinner with herself; whichinvitationhe very thankfully accepted; for indeed much less agreeablecompanythan that of Mrs. Whitefieldand a much worse entertainmentthan shehad providedwould have been welcome after so long fastingand solong a walk.

 Besides Mr. Jones and the good governess of the mansionthere satdown attable an attorney of Salisburyindeed very same who hadbroughtthe news of Blifil's death to Mr. Allworthyand whose namewhich Ithink we did not before mentionwas Dowling: there waslikewisepresent another personwho stiled himself a lawyerandwho livedsomewhere near Linlinchin Somersetshire. This fellowIsaystiled himself a lawyerbut was indeed a most vile petty-foggerwithoutsense or knowledge of any kind; one of those who may be termedtrain-bearersto the law; a sort of supernumeraries in the professionwho arethe hackneys of attorneysand will ride more miles forhalf-a-crownthan a postboy.

 During the time of dinnerthe Somersetshire lawyer recollectedthe faceof Joneswhich he had seen at Mr. Allworthy's; for he hadoftenvisited in that gentleman's kitchen. He therefore tookoccasionto enquire after the good family there with thatfamiliaritywhich would have become an intimate friend or acquaintanceof Mr.Allworthy; and indeed he did all in his power to insinuatehimself tobe suchthough he had never had the honour of speakingto anyperson in that family higher than the butler. Jones answeredall hisquestions with much civilitythough he never remembered tohave seenthe petty-fogger before; and though he concludedfrom theoutwardappearance and behaviour of the manthat he usurped a freedomwith hisbettersto which he was by no means intitled.

  Asthe conversation of fellows of this kind is of all others themostdetestable to men of any sensethe cloth was no sooner removedthan Mr.Jones withdrewand a little barbarously left poor Mrs.Whitefieldto do a penancewhich I have often heard Mr. TimothyHarrisand other publicans of good tastelamentas the severest lotannexed totheir callingnamelythat of being obliged to keepcompanywith their guests.

 Jones had no sooner quitted the roomthan the petty-foggerin awhisperingtoneasked Mrs. Whitefield"If she knew who that finesparkwas?" She answered"She had never seen the gentlemanbefore."

"The gentlemanindeed!" replied the petty-fogger; "aprettygentlemantruly! Whyhe's the bastard of a fellow who washanged forhorse-stealing. He was dropt at Squire Allworthy's doorwhere oneof the servants found him in a box so full of rainwaterthat hewould certainly have been drownedhad he not been reservedforanother fate."

"Ayayyou need not mention itIprotest: weunderstandwhat that fate is very well" cries Dowlingwith a mostfacetiousgrin.

"Well" continued the other"the squireordered himto betaken in; for he is a timbersome man everybody knowsand wasafraid ofdrawing himself into a scrape; and there the bastard wasbred upand fedand cloathified all to the world like any gentleman;and therehe got one of the servant-maids with childand persuadedher toswear it to the squire himself; and afterwards he broke the armof one Mr.Thwackum a clergymanonly because he reprimanded him forfollowingwhores; and afterwards he snapt a pistol at Mr. Blifilbehind hisback; and oncewhen Squire Allworthy was sickhe got adrumandbeat it all over the house to prevent him from sleeping; andtwentyother pranks he hath playedfor all whichabout four orfive daysagojust before I left the countrythe squire stripped himstarknakedand turned him out of doors."

 "And very justly tooI protest" cries Dowling; "Iwould turn myown sonout of doorsif he was guilty of half as much. And praywhat isthe name of this pretty gentleman?"

 "The name o' un?" answered Petty-fogger; "whyhe iscalled ThomasJones."

 "Jones!" answered Dowling a little eagerly; "whatMr.Jones thatlived atMr. Allworthy's? was that the gentleman that dined withus?"

"The very same" said the other. "I have heard of thegentleman"cries Dowling"often; but I never heard any ill characterof him."

"And I am sure" says Mrs. Whitefield"if half whatthisgentlemanhath said be trueMr. Jones hath the most deceitfulcountenanceI ever saw; for sure his looks promise something verydifferent;and I must sayfor the little I have seen of himhe is ascivil awell-bred man as you would wish to converse with."

 Petty-fogger calling to mind that he had not been swornas heusuallywasbefore he gave his evidencenow bound what he haddeclaredwith so many oaths and imprecations that the landlady'sears wereshockedand she put a stop to his swearingby assuring himof herbelief. Upon which he said"I hopemadamyou imagine I wouldscorn totell such things of any manunless I knew them to be true.Whatinterest have I in taking away the reputation of a mam whoneverinjured me? I promise you every syllable of what I have saidis factand the whole country knows it."

  AsMrs. Whitefield had no reason to suspect that the petty-foggerhad anymotive or temptation to abuse Jonesthe reader cannot blameher forbelieving what he so confidently affirmed with many oaths. Sheaccordinglygave up her skill in physiognomyand henceforwardsconceivedso ill an opinion of her guestthat she heartily wished himout of herhouse.

 This dislike was now farther increased by a report which Mr.Whitefieldmade from the kitchenwhere Partridge had informed thecompany"that though he carried the knapsackand contented himselfwithstaying among servantswhile Tom Jones (as he called him) wasregalingin the parlourhe was not his servantbut only a friend andcompanionand as good a gentleman as Mr. Jones himself."

 Dowling sat all this while silentbiting his fingersmaking facesgrinningand looking wonderfully arch; at last he opened his lipsandprotested that the gentleman looked like another sort of man. Hethencalled for his bill with the utmost hastedeclared he must be atHerefordthat eveninglamented his great hurry of businessandwished hecould divide himself into twenty piecesin order to be atonce intwenty places.

  Thepetty-fogger now likewise departedand then Jones desired thefavour ofMrs. Whitefield's company to drink tea with him; but sherefusedand with a manner so different from that with which she hadreceivedhim at dinnerthat it a little surprized him. And now hesoonperceived her behaviour totally changed; for instead of thatnaturalaffability which we have before celebratedshe wore aconstrainedseverity on her countenancewhich was so disagreeableto Mr.Jonesthat he resolvedhowever lateto quit the house thatevening.

  Hedid indeed account somewhat unfairly for this sudden change;forbesides some hard and unjust surmises concerning female ficklenessandmutabilityhe began to suspect that he owed this want of civilityto hiswant of horses; a sort of animals whichas they dirty nosheetsare thought in inns to pay better for their beds than theirridersand are therefore considered as the more desirable company;but Mrs.Whitefieldto do her justicehad a much more liberal way ofthinking.She was perfectly well-bredand could be very civil to agentlemanthough he walked on foot. In realityshe looked on ourheroe as asorry scoundreland therefore treated him as suchforwhich noteven Jones himselfhad he known as much as the readercould haveblamed her; nayon the contraryhe must have approved herconductand have esteemed her the more for the disrespect showntowardshimself. This is indeed a most aggravating circumstancewhichattendsdepriving men unjustly of their reputation; for a man who isconsciousof having an ill charactercannot justly be angry withthose whoneglect and slight him; but ought rather to despise suchas affecthis conversationunless where a perfect intimacy musthaveconvinced them that their friend's character hath been falselyandinjuriously aspersed.

 This was nothoweverthe case of Jones; for as he was a perfectstrangerto the truthso he was with good reason offended at thetreatmenthe received. He therefore paid his reckoning and departedhighlyagainst the will of Mr. Partridgewho having remonstrated muchagainst itto no purposeat last condescended to take up his knapsackand toattend his friend.

Chapter9
Containingseveral dialogues between Jones and Partridgeconcerninglovecoldhungerand other matters; with the lucky and narrowescape ofPartridgeas he was on the very brink of making a fataldiscoveryto his friend

  Theshadows began now to descend larger from the high mountains; thefeatheredcreation had betaken themselves to their rest. Now thehighestorder of mortals were sitting down to their dinnersand thelowestorder to their suppers. In a wordthe clock struck five justas Mr.Jones took his leave of Gloucester; an hour at which (as it wasnowmid-winter) the dirty fingers of Night would have drawn hersablecurtain over the universehad not the moon forbid herwho nowwith aface broad and as red as those of some jolly mortalswholikeherturnnight into daybegan to rise from her bedwhere she hadslumberedaway the dayin order to sit up all night. Jones had nottravelledfar before he paid his compliments to that beautiful planetandturning to his companionasked him if he had ever beheld sodeliciousan evening? Partridge making no ready answer to hisquestionhe proceeded to comment on the beauty of the moonandrepeatedsome passages from Miltonwho hath certainly excelled allotherpoets in his description of the heavenly luminaries. He thentoldPartridge the story from the Spectatorof two lovers who hadagreed toentertain themselves when they were at a great distance fromeachotherby repairingat a certain fixed hourto look at themoon; thuspleasing themselves with the thought that they were bothemployedin contemplating the same object at the same time. "Thoselovers"added he"must have had souls truly capable of feeling allthetenderness of the sublimest of all human passions."

"Veryprobably"cries Partridge: "but I envy them moreif they hadbodiesincapable of feeling cold; for I am almost frozen to deathandam verymuch afraid I shall lose a piece of my nose before we get toanotherhouse of entertainment. Naytrulywe may well expect somejudgmentshould happen to us for our folly in running away so by nightfrom oneof the most excellent inns I ever set my foot into. I am sureI neversaw more good things in my lifeand the greatest lord inthe landcannot live better in his own house than he may there. And toforsakesuch a houseand go a rambling about the countrythe Lordknowswhitherper devia rura viarumI say nothing for my part; butsomepeople might not have charity enough to conclude we were in oursobersenses."

"Fie upon itMr. Partridge!" says Jones"have abetterheart; consider you are going to face an enemy; and are youafraid offacing a little cold? I wishindeedwe had a guide toadvisewhich of these roads we should take."

"May I be so bold"saysPartridge"to offer my advice? Interdum stultus opportunaloquitur."

"Whywhich of them" cries Jones"would yourecommend?"

"Trulyneither of them" answered Partridge. "The only road we canbe certainof findingis the road we came. A good hearty pace willbring usback to Gloucester in an hour; but if we go forwardthe LordHarryknows when we shall arrive at any place; for I see at leastfiftymiles before meand no house in all the way."

"You seeindeedavery fair prospect" says Jones"which receives greatadditionalbeauty from the extreme lustre of the moon. HoweverI willkeep thelefthand trackas that seems to lead directly to thosehillswhich we were informed lie not far from Worcester. And hereifyou areinclined to quit meyou mayand return back again; but formy partIam resolved to go forward."

  "Itis unkind in yousir" says Partridge"to suspect me ofanysuchintention. What I have advised hath been as much on youraccount ason my own: but since you are determined to go onI am asmuchdetermined to follow. I prae sequar te."

 They now travelled some miles without speaking to each otherduringwhichsuspense of discourse Jones often sighedand Benjamin groanedasbitterlythough from a very different reason. At length Jones madea fullstopand turning aboutcries"Who knowsPartridgebuttheloveliest creature in the universe may have her eyes now fixedon thatvery moon which I behold at this instant?"

"Very likelysir"answeredPartridge; "and if my eyes were fixed on a good surloin ofroastbeefthe devil might take the moon and her horns into thebargain."

"Did ever Tramontane make such an answer?" cries Jones."PritheePartridgewast thou ever susceptible of love in thy lifeor hathtime worn away all the traces of it from thy memory?"

"Alack-a-day!"cries Partridge"well would it have been for me if Ihad neverknown what love was. Infandum regina jubes renovare dolorem.I am sureI have tasted all the tendernessand sublimitiesandbitternessesof the passion."

"Was your mistress unkindthen?"saysJones."Very unkindindeedsir" answered Partridge; "forshemarriedmeand made one of the most confounded wives in the world.Howeverheaven be praisedshe's gone; and if I believed she was inthe moonaccording to a book I once readwhich teaches that to bethereceptacle of departed spiritsI would never look at it forfear ofseeing her; but I wishsirthat the moon was a looking-glassfor yoursakeand that Miss Sophia Western was now placed before it."

"Mydear Partridge" cries Jones"what a thought was there! Athoughtwhich I amcertain could never have entered into any mind but thatof alover. O Partridge! could I hope once again to see that face;butalas!all those golden dreams are vanished for everand myonlyrefuge from future misery is to forget the object of all myformerhappiness."

"And do you really despair of ever seeing MissWesternagain?" answered Partridge; "if you will follow my advice Iwillengage you shall not only see her but have her in your arms."

"Ha!do not awaken a thought of that nature" cries Jones: "Ihavestruggledsufficiently to conquer all such wishes already."

"Nay"answeredPartridge"if you do not wish to have your mistress inyour armsyou are a most extraordinary lover indeed."

"Wellwell"saysJones"let us avoid this subject; but pray what is youradvice?"

"Togive it you in the military phrasethen" says Partridge"aswe aresoldiers'To the right about.' Let us return the way wecame; wemay yet reach Gloucester to-nightthough late; whereasifweproceedwe are likelyfor aught I seeto ramble about for everwithoutcoming either to house or home."

"I have already told youmyresolutionis to go on" answered Jones; "but I would have you goback. I amobliged to you for your company hither; and I beg you toaccept aguinea as a small instance of my gratitude. Nayit wouldbe cruelin me to suffer you to go any farther; forto deal plainlywith youmy chief end and desire is a glorious death in the serviceof my kingand country."

"As for your money" replied Partridge"Ibegsiryou will put it up; I will receive none of you at this time;for atpresent I amI believethe richer man of the two. And as yourresolutionis to go onso mine is to follow you if you do. Naynowmypresence appears absolutely necessary to take care of yousinceyourintentions are so desperate; for I promise you my views aremuch moreprudent; as you are resolved to fall in battle if you canso I amresolved as firmly to come to no hurt if I can help it. AndindeedIhave the comfort to think there will be but little danger;for apopish priest told me the other day the business would soon beoverandhe believed without a battle."

"A popish priest!"criesJones"Ihave heard is not always to be believed when he speaks inbehalf ofhis religion."

"Yesbut so far" answered the other"fromspeaking in behalf of his religionhe assured me the Catholicksdid notexpect to be any gainers by the change; for that PrinceCharleswas as good a Protestant as any in England; and that nothingbut regardto right made him and the rest of the popish party to beJacobites."

"I believe him to be as much a Protestant as I believehe hathany right" says Jones; "and I make no doubt of oursuccessbut notwithout a battle. So that I am not so sanguine as yourfriend thepopish priest."

"Nayto be suresir" answeredPartridge"allthe prophecies I have ever read speak of a great deal of blood tobe spiltin the quarreland the miller with three thumbswho isnow aliveis to hold the horses of three kingsup to his knees inblood.Lordhave mercy upon us alland send better times!"

"Withwhat stuffand nonsense hast thou filled thy head!" answered Jones:"thistooI supposecomes from the popish priest. Monsters andprodigiesare the proper arguments to support monstrous and absurddoctrines.The cause of King George is the cause of liberty and truereligion.In other wordsit is the cause of common sensemy boyandI warrantyou will succeedthough Briarius himself was to riseagain withhis hundred thumbsand to turn miller." Partridge madeno replyto this. He wasindeedcast into the utmost confusion bythisdeclaration of Jones. Forto inform the reader of a secretwhich hehad no proper opportunity of revealing beforePartridgewas intruth a Jacobiteand had concluded that Jones was of thesamepartyand was now proceeding to join the rebels. An opinionwhich wasnot without foundation. For the talllong-sided damementionedby Hudibras- that many-eyedmany-tonguedmany-mouthedmany-earedmonster of Virgilhad related the story of the quarrelbetweenJones and the officerwith the usual regard to truth. Shehadindeedchanged the name of Sophia into that of the Pretenderand hadreportedthat drinking his health was the cause for whichJones wasknocked down. This Partridge had heardand most firmlybelieved.'Tis no wonderthereforethat he had thence entertainedtheabove-mentioned opinion of Jones; and which he had almostdiscoveredto him before he found out his own mistake. And at this thereaderwill be the less inclined to wonderif he pleases to recollectthedoubtful phrase in which Jones first communicated his resolutionto Mr.Partridge; andindeedhad the words been less ambiguousPartridgemight very well have construed them as he did; beingpersuadedas he was that the whole nation were of the same inclinationin theirhearts; nor did it stagger him that Jones had travelled inthecompany of soldiers; for he had the same opinion of the army whichhe had ofthe rest of the people.

  Buthowever well affected he might be to James or Charleshe wasstill muchmore attached to Little Benjamin than to either; forwhichreason he no sooner discovered the principles of hisfellow-travellerthan he thought proper to conceal and outwardlygive uphis own to the man on whom he depended for the making hisfortunesince he by no means believed the affairs of Jones to be sodesperateas they really were with Mr. Allworthy; for as he had kept aconstantcorrespondence with some of his neighbours since he left thatcountryhe had heard muchindeed more than was trueof the greataffectionMr. Allworthy bore this young manwhoas Partridge hadbeeninstructedwas to be that gentleman's heirand whomas we havesaidhedid not in the least doubt to be his son.

  Heimagined therefore that whatever quarrel was between themitwould becertainly made up at the return of Mr. Jones; an event fromwhich hepromised great advantagesif he could take thisopportunityof ingratiating himself with that young gentleman; andif hecould by any means be instrumental in procuring his returnhedoubtednotas we have before saidbut it would as highly advancehim in thefavour of Mr. Allworthy.

  Wehave already observedthat he was a very good-natured fellowand hehath himself declared the violent attachment he had to theperson andcharacter of Jones; but possibly the views which I havejustbefore mentionedmight likewise have some little share inpromptinghim to undertake this expeditionat least in urging himtocontinue itafter he had discovered that his master and himselflike someprudent fathers and sonsthough they travelled togetherin greatfriendshiphad embraced opposite parties. I am led into thisconjectureby having remarkedthat though lovefriendshipesteemand such likehave very powerful operations in the humanmind;interesthoweveris an ingredient seldom omitted by wisemenwhenthey would work others to their own purposes. This is indeeda mostexcellent medicineandlike Ward's pillflies at once to theparticularpart of the body on which you desire to operatewhether itbe thetonguethe handor any other memberwhere it scarce everfails ofimmediately producing the desired effect.

Chapter10
In whichour travellers meet with a very extraordinary adventure

 Just as Jones and his friend came to the end of their dialogue inthepreceding chapterthey arrived at the bottom of a very steephill. HereJones stopt shortand directing his eyes upwardsstoodfor awhile silent. At length he called to his companionand said"PartridgeI wish I was at the top of this hill: it must certainlyafford amost charming prospectespecially by this light; for thesolemngloom which the moon casts on all objectsis beyond expressionbeautifulespecially to an imagination which is desirous ofcultivatingmelancholy ideas."

"Very probably" answeredPartridge;"butif the top of the hill be properest to produce melancholythoughtsI suppose the bottom is the likeliest to produce merry onesand theseI take to be much the better of the two. I protest youhave mademy blood run cold with the very mentioning the top of thatmountain;which seems to me to be one of the highest in the world. Nonoif welook for anythinglet it be for a place under groundtoscreenourselves from the frost."

"Do so" said Jones; "letit bebut withinhearing of this placeand I will hallow to you at myreturnback."

"Surelysiryou are not mad" saidPartridge.

"IndeedI am" answered Jones"if ascending this hill be madness;but as youcomplain so much of the cold alreadyI would have you staybelow. Iwill certainly return to you within an hour."

"Pardon mesir"cries Partridge; "I have determined to follow you wherever yougo."Indeed he was now afraid to stay behind; though he was cowardenough inall respectsyet his chief fear was that of ghostswithwhich thepresent time of nightand the wildness of the placeextremelywell suited.

  Atthis instant Partridge espied a glimmering light through sometreeswhich seemed very near to them. He immediately cried out in arapture"Ohsir! Heaven hath at last heard my prayersand hathbrought usa house; perhaps it may be an inn. Let beseech yousirifyou haveany compassion either for me or yourselfdo not despisethegoodness of Providencebut let us go directly to yon light.Whether itbe a public-house or noI am sure if they be Christiansthat welltherethey will not refuse a little house-room to personsin ourmiserable condition." Jones at length yielded to the earnestsupplicationsof Partridgeand both together made directly towardsthe placewhence the light issued.

 They soon arrived at the door of this houseor cottagefor itmight becalled eitherwithout much impropriety. Here Jones knockedseveraltimes without receiving any answer from within; at whichPartridgewhose head was full of nothing but of ghostsdevilswitchesand such likebegan to tremblecrying"Lordhave mercyupon us!surely the people must be all dead. I can see no lightneithernowand yet I am certain I saw a candle burning but amomentbefore.- Well! I have heard of such things."

"What hastthouheard of?"said Jones. "The people are either fast asleeporprobablyas this is a lonely placeare afraid to open their door."He thenbegan to vociferate pretty loudlyand at last an old womanopening anupper casementaskedWho they wereand what they wanted?JonesansweredThey were travellers who had lost their wayandhavingseen a light in windowhad been led thither in hopes offindingsome fire to warm themselves. "Whoever you are" cries thewoman"you have no business here; nor shall I open the door to any atthis timeof night." Partridgewhom the sound of a human voice hadrecoveredfrom his frightfell to the most earnest supplications tobeadmitted for a few minutes to firesayinghe was almost dead withthe cold;to which fear had indeed contributed equally with the frost.He assuredher that the gentleman who spoke to her was one of thegreatestsquires in the country; and made use of every argumentsave onewhich Jones afterwards effectually added; and this wasthepromise of half-a-crown;- a bribe too great to be resisted bysuch apersonespecially as the genteel appearance of Joneswhichthe lightof the moon plainly discovered to hertogether with hisaffablebehaviourhad entirely subdued those apprehensions of thieveswhich shehad at first conceived. She agreedthereforeat lasttolet themin; where Partridgeto his infinite joyfound a good fireready forhis reception.

  Thepoor fellowhoweverhad no sooner warmed himselfthan thosethoughtswhich were always uppermost in his mindbegan a little todisturbhis brain. There was no article of his creed in which he had astrongerfaith than he had in witchcraftnor can the readerconceive afigure more adapted to inspire this ideathan the oldwoman whonow stood before him. She answered exactly to that picturedrawn byOtway in his Orphan. Indeedif this woman had lived in thereign ofJames the Firsther appearance alone would have hangedheralmost without any evidence.

 Many circumstances likewise conspired to confirm Partridge in hisopinion.Her livingas he then imaginedby herself in so lonely aplace; andin a housethe outside of which seemed much too good forherbutits inside was furnished in the most neat and elegant manner.To say thetruthJones himself was not a little surprized at whathe saw;forbesides the extraordinary neatness of the roomit wasadornedwith a great number of nick-nacks and curiositieswhich mighthaveengaged the attention of a virtuoso.

 While Jones was admiring these thingsand Partridge sat tremblingwith thefirm belief that he was in the house of a witchthe oldwomansaid"I hopegentlemenyou will make what haste you can;for Iexpect my master presentlyand I would not for double the moneyhe shouldfind you here."

"Then you have a master?" criedJones."Indeedyou will excuse megood womanbut I was surprized to seeall thosefine things in your house."

"Ahsaid she"if thetwentiethpart of these things were mineI should think myself a richwoman. Butpraysirdo not stay much longerfor I look for him ineveryminute."

"Whysure he would not be angry with you"saidJones"for doing a common act of charity?"

"Alack-a-daysir!" saidshe"heis a strange mannot at all like other people. He keeps nocompanywith anybodyand seldom walks out but by nightfor he dothnot careto be seen; and all the country people are as much afraid ofmeetinghim; for his dress is enough to frighten those who are notused toit. They call himthe Man of the Hill (for there he walksby night)and the country people are notI believemore afraid ofthe devilhimself. He would be terribly angry if he found youhere."

"Praysir" says Partridge"don't let us offend thegentleman;I am ready to walkand was never warmer in my life. Dopraysirlet us go. Here are pistols over the chimney: who knowswhetherthey be charged or noor what he may do with them?"

"FearnothingPartridge" cries Jones; "I will secure thee fromdanger."

"Nayfor matter o' thathe never doth any mischief" saidthe woman;"but to be sure it is necessary he should keep some armsfor hisown safety; for his house hath been beset more than once;and it isnot many nights ago that we thought we heard thieves aboutit: for myown partI have often wondered that he is not murderedby somevillain or otheras he walks out by himself at such hours;but thenas I saidthe people are afraid of him; and besidestheythinkIsupposehe hath nothing about him worth taking."

"Ishouldimagineby this collection of rarities" cries Jones"that yourmaster hadbeen a traveller."

"Yessir" answered she"hehathbeen avery great one: there be few gentlemen that know more of allmattersthan he. I fancy he hath been crost in loveor whatever it isI knownot; but I have lived with him above these thirty yearsand inall thattime he hath hardly spoke to six living people." She thenagainsolicited their departurein which she was backed by Partridge;but Jonespurposely protracted the timefor his curiosity was greatlyraised tosee this extraordinary person. Though the old womanthereforeconcluded every one of her answers with desiring him tobe goneand Partridge proceeded so far as to pull him by thesleevehestill continued to invent new questionstill the oldwomanwith an affrighted countenancedeclared she heard her master'ssignal;and at the same instant more than one voice was heardwithoutthe doorcrying"D--n your bloodshow us your money thisinstant.Your moneyyou villainor we will blow your brains aboutyourears."

  "Ogood heaven!" cries the old woman"some villainsto besurehaveattacked my master. O la! what shall I do? what shall I do?"

"How!"cries Jones"how!- Are these pistols loaded?"

"Ogood sirthere isnothing in themindeed. O pray don't murder usgentlemen!"(for inreality she now had the same opinion of those within as shehad ofthose without). Jones made her no answer; but snatching an oldbroadsword which hung in the roomhe instantly sallied outwhere hefound theold gentleman struggling with two ruffiansand begging formercy.Jones asked no questionsbut fell so briskly to work with hisbroadswordthat the fellows immediately quitted their hold; andwithoutoffering to attack our heroebetook themselves to their heelsand madetheir escape; for he did not attempt to pursue thembeingcontentedwith having delivered the old gentleman; and indeed heconcludedhe had pretty well done their businessfor both of themasthey ranoffcried out with bitter oaths that they were dead men.

 Jones presently ran to lift up the old gentlemanwho had beenthrowndown in the scuffleexpressing at the same time greatconcernlest he should have received any harm from the villains. Theold manstared a moment at Jonesand then cried"NosirnoI haveverylittle harmI thank you. Lord have mercy upon me!"

"Iseesir"said Jones"you are not free from apprehensions even of thosewho havehad the happiness to be your deliverers; nor can I blame anysuspicionswhich you may have; but indeed you have no real occasionfor any;here are none but your friends present. Having mist our waythis coldnightwe took the liberty of warming ourselves at yourfirewhence we were just departing when we heard you call forassistancewhichI must sayProvidence alone seems to have sentyou."

"Providenceindeed" cries the old gentleman"if itbeso."

"So it isI assure you" cries Jones. "Here is yourown swordsir; Ihave used it in your defenceand I now return it into yourhand."The old man having received the swordwhich was stained withthe bloodof his enemieslooked stedfastly at Jones during somemomentsand then with a sigh cried out"You will pardon meyounggentleman;I was not always of a suspicious tempernor am I afriend toingratitude."

  "Bethankful then" cries Jones"to that Providence to whichyouowe yourdeliverance: as to my partI have only discharged the commonduties ofhumanityand what I would have done for any fellow-creaturein yoursituation."

"Let me look at you a little longer"cries theoldgentleman. "You are a human creature then? Wellperhaps youare. Comepray walk into my little hutt. You have been my delivererindeed."

  Theold woman was distracted between the fears which she had ofhermasterand for him; and Partridge wasif possiblein agreaterfright. The former of thesehoweverwhen she heard hermasterspeak kindly to Jonesand perceived what had happenedcameagain toherself; but Partridge no sooner saw the gentlemanthanthestrangeness of his dress infused greater terrors into that poorfellowthan he had before felteither from the strange descriptionwhich hehad heardor from the uproar which had happened at the door.

  Tosay the truthit was an appearance which might have affected amoreconstant mind than that of Mr. Partridge. This person was ofthetallest sizewith a long beard as white as snow. His body wascloathedwith the skin of an assmade something into the form of acoat. Hewore likewise boots on his legsand a cap on his headbothcomposed of the skin of some other animals.

  Assoon as the old gentleman came into his housethe old womanbegan hercongratulations on his happy escape from the ruffians."Yes"cried he"I have escapedindeedthanks to my preserver."

"Othe blessing on him!" answered she: "he is a goodgentlemanIwarranthim. I was afraid your worship would have been angry with meforletting him in; and to be certain I should not have done ithadnot I seenby the moon-lightthat he was a gentlemanand almostfrozen todeath. And to be certain it must have been some good angelthat senthim hitherand tempted me to do it."

  "Iam afraidsir" said the old gentleman to Jones"that Ihavenothing inthis house which you can either eat or drinkunless youwillaccept a dram of brandy; of which I can give you some mostexcellentand which I have had by me these thirty years." Jonesdeclinedthis offer in a very civil and proper speechand then theotherasked him"Whither he was travelling when he mist his way?"saying"Imust own myself surprized to see such a person as youappear tobejourneying on foot at this time of night. I supposesiryouare a gentleman of these parts; for you do not look likeone who isused to travel far without horses?"

 "Appearances" cried Jones"are often deceitful; mensometimes lookwhat theyare not. I assure you I am not of this country; andwhither Iam travellingin reality I scarce know myself."

 "Whoever you areor whithersoever you are going" answeredtheold man"I have obligations to you which I can never return."

  "Ionce more" replied Jones"affirm that you have none; forthere canbe no merit in having hazarded that in your service on whichI set novalue; and nothing is so contemptible in my eyes as life."

  "Iam sorryyoung gentleman" answered the stranger"thatyou haveany reasonto be so unhappy at your years."

 "Indeed I amsir" answered Jones"the most unhappyof mankind."

"Perhapsyou have had a friendor a mistress?" replied the other."Howcould you" cries Jones"mention two words sufficient todriveme todistraction?"

"Either of them are enough to drive any mantodistraction"answered the old man. "I enquire no farthersir;perhaps mycuriosity hath led me too far already."

 "Indeedsir" cries Jones"I cannot censure apassion which I feelat thisinstant in the highest degree. You will pardon me when Iassureyouthat everything which I have seen or heard since I firstenteredthis house hath conspired to raise the greatest curiosity inme.Something very extraordinary must have determined you to thiscourse oflifeand I have reason to fear your own history is notwithoutmisfortunes."

 Here the old gentleman again sighedand remained silent for someminutes:at lastlooking earnestly on Joneshe said"I have readthat agood countenance is a letter of recommendation; if sononeever canbe more strongly recommended than yourself. If I did not feelsomeyearnings towards you from another considerationI must be themostungrateful monster upon earth; and I am really concerned it is nootherwisein my power than by words to convince you of my gratitude."

 Jonesafter a moment's hesitationanswered"That it was inhispower bywords to gratify him extremely. I have confest acuriosity"said he"sir; need I say how much obliged I should beto youifyou would condescend to gratify it? Will you suffer methereforeto begunless any consideration restrains youthat youwould bepleased to acquaint me what motives have induced you thustowithdraw from the society of mankindand to betake yourself to acourse oflife to which it sufficiently appears you were not born?"

  "Iscarce think myself at liberty to refuse you anything afterwhat hathhappened" replied the old man. "If you desire thereforeto hearthe story of an unhappy manI will relate it to you. Indeedyou judgerightlyin thinking there is commonly ordinary in thefortunesof those who fly from society; for however it may seem aparadoxor even a contradictioncertain it isthat greatphilanthropychiefly inclines us to avoid and detest mankind; not onaccount somuch of their private and selfish vicesbut for those of arelativekind; such as envymalicetreacherycrueltyand everyotherspecies of malevolence. These are the vices which truephilanthropyabhorsand which rather than see and converse withshe avoidssociety itself. Howeverwithout a compliment to youyoudo notappear to me one of those whom I should shun or detest; nayI mustsayin what little hath dropt from youthere appears someparity inour fortunes: I hopehoweveryours will conclude moresuccessfully."

 Here some compliments passed between our heroe and his hostandthen thelatter was going to begin his historywhen Partridgeinterruptedhim. His apprehensions had now pretty well left himbutsomeeffects of his terrors remained; he therefore reminded thegentlemanof that excellent brandy which he had mentioned. This waspresentlybroughtand Partridge swallowed a large bumper.

  Thegentleman thenwithout any farther prefacebegan as you mayread inthe next chapter.

Chapter11
In whichthe Man of the Hill begins to relate his history

  "Iwas born in a village of Somersetshirecalled Markin theyear 1657.My father was one of those whom they call gentlemenfarmers.He had a little estate of about L300 a year of his ownandrentedanother estate of near the same value. He was prudent andindustriousand so good a husbandmanthat he might have led a veryeasy andcomfortable lifehad not an arrant vixen of a wife souredhisdomestic quiet. But though this circumstance perhaps made himmiserableit did not make him poor; for he confined her almostentirelyat homeand rather chose to bear eternal upbraidings inhis ownhousethan to injure his fortune by indulging her in theextravaganciesshe desired abroad.

  "Bythis Xanthippe" (so was the wife of Socrates calledsaidPartridge)

"by this Xanthippe he had two sonsof which I was theyounger.He designed to give us both good education; but my elderbrotherwhounhappily for himwas the favourite of my motherutterlyneglected his learning; insomuch thatafter having beenfive orsix years at school with little or no improvementmyfatherbeing told by his master that it would be to no purpose tokeep himlonger thereat last complied with my mother in taking himhome fromthe hands of that tyrantas she called his master; thoughindeed hegave the lad much less correction than his idlenessdeservedbut much moreit seemsthan the young gentleman likedwhoconstantlycomplained to his mother of his severe treatmentand sheasconstantly gave him a hearing."

 "Yesyes" cries Partridge"I have seen suchmothers; I havebeenabused myself by themand very unjustly; such parents deservecorrectionas much as their children."

 Jones chid the pedagogue for his interruptionand then the strangerproceeded.

  "Mybrother nowat the age of fifteenbade adieu to alllearningand to everything else but to his dog and gun; with whichlatter hebecame so expertthatthough perhaps you may think itincrediblehe could not only hit a standing mark with greatcertaintybut hath actually shot a crow as it was flying in theair. Hewas likewise excellent at finding a hare sittingand was soonreputedone of the best sportsmen in the country; a reputation whichboth heand his mother enjoyed as much as if he had been thought thefinestscholar.

 "The situation of my brother made me at first think my lot theharderinbeing continued at school: but I soon changed my opinion;for as Iadvanced pretty fast in learningmy labours became easyandmyexercise so delightfulthat holidays were my most unpleasant time;for mymotherwho never loved menow apprehending that I had thegreatershare of my father's affectionand findingor at leastthinkingthat I was more taken notice of by some gentlemen oflearningand particularly by the parson of the parishthan mybrothershe now hated my sightand made home so disagreeable tomethatwhat is called by school-boys Black Mondaywas to me thewhitest inthe whole year.

 "Having at length gone through the school at TauntonI wasthenceremoved toExeter College in Oxfordwhere I remained four years; atthe end ofwhich an accident took me off entirely from my studies; andhence Imay truly date the rise of all which happened to me afterwardsin life.

 "There was at the same college with myself one Sir GeorgeGreshamayoungfellow who was intitled to a very considerable fortunewhich hewas notby the will of his fathercome into full possession oftill hearrived the age of twenty-five. Howeverthe liberality of hisguardiansgave him little cause to regret the abundant caution ofhisfather; for they allowed him five hundred pounds a year while heremainedat the universitywhere he kept his horses and his whoreand livedas wicked and as profligate a life as he could have done hadhe beennever so entirely master of his fortune; for besides thefivehundred a year which he received from his guardianshe foundmeans tospend a thousand more. He was above the age of twenty-oneand had nodifficulty in gaining what credit he pleased.

 "This young fellowamong many other tolerable bad qualitieshadone verydiabolical. He had a great delight in destroying andruiningthe youth of inferior fortuneby drawing them into expenseswhich theycould not afford so well as himself; and the betterandworthierand soberer any young man wasthe greater pleasure andtriumphhad he in his destruction. Thus acting the character whichisrecorded of the deviland going about seeking whom he mightdevour.

  "Itwas my misfortune to fall into an acquaintance and intimacy withthisgentleman. My reputation of diligence in my studies made me adesirableobject of his mischievous intention; and my owninclinationmade it sufficiently easy for him to effect his purpose;for thoughI had applied myself with much industry to booksinwhich Itook great delightthere were other pleasures in which Iwascapable of taking much greater; for I was high-mettledhad aviolentflow of animal spiritswas a little ambitiousandextremelyamorous.

  "Ihad not long contracted an intimacy with Sir George before Ibecame apartaker of all his pleasures; and when I was once entered onthatsceneneither my inclination nor my spirit would suffer me toplay anunder part. I was second to none of the company in any acts ofdebauchery;nayI soon distinguished myself so notably in all riotsanddisordersthat my name generally stood first in the roll ofdelinquents;and instead of being lamented as the unfortunate pupil ofSirGeorgeI was now accused as the person who had misled anddebauchedthat hopeful young gentleman; for though he was theringleaderand promoter of all the mischiefhe was never soconsidered.I fell at last under the censure of the vice-chancellorand verynarrowly escaped expulsion.

 "You will easily believesirthat such a life as I am nowdescribingmust be incompatible with my further progress inlearning;and that in proportion as I addicted myself more and more toloosepleasureI must grow more and more remiss in application tomystudies. This was truly the consequence; but this was not all. Myexpensesnow greatly exceeded not only my former incomebut thoseadditionswhich I extorted from my poor generous fatheronpretencesof sums being necessary for preparing for my approachingdegree ofbatchelor of arts. These demandshowevergrew at last sofrequentand exorbitantthat my father by slow degrees opened hisears tothe accounts which he received from many quarters of mypresentbehaviourand which my mother failed not to echo veryfaithfullyand loudly; adding'Aythis is the fine gentlemanthescholarwho doth so much honour to his familyand is to be the makingof it. Ithought what all this learning would come to. He is to be theruin of usallI findafter his elder brother hath been deniednecessariesfor his saketo perfect his education forsoothfor whichhe was topay us such interest: I thought what the interest would cometo' withmuch more of the same kind; but I haveI believesatisfiedyou withthis taste.

  "Myfatherthereforebegan now to return remonstrances insteadof moneyto my demandswhich brought my affairs perhaps a littlesooner toa crisis; but had he remitted me his whole incomeyouwillimagine it could have sufficed a very short time to support onewho keptpace with the expenses of Sir George Gresham.

  "Itis more than possible that the distress I was now in formoneyandthe impracticability of going on in this mannermight haverestoredme at once to my senses and to my studieshad I opened myeyesbefore I became involved in debts from which I saw no hopes ofeverextricating myself. This was indeed the great art of SirGeorgeand by which he accomplished the ruin of manywhom heafterwardslaughed at as fools and coxcombsfor vyingas he calleditwith aman of his fortune. To bring this abouthe would now andthenadvance a little money himselfin order to support the credit oftheunfortunate youth with other people; tillby means of that verycredithewas irretrievably undone.

  "Mymind being by these means grown as desperate as my fortunethere wasscarce a wickedness which I did not meditatein order formy relief.Self-murder itself became the subject of my seriousdeliberation;and I had certainly resolved on ithad not a moreshamefulthough perhaps less sinfulthought expelled it from myhead."-Here he hesitated a momentand then cried out"I protestso manyyears have not washed away the shame of this actand Ishallblush while I relate it." Jones desired him to pass overanythingthat might give him pain in the relation; but Partridgeeagerlycried out"Ohpraysirlet us hear this; I had rather hearthis thanall the rest; as I hope to be savedI will never mentiona word ofit." Jones was going to rebuke himbut the strangerpreventedit by proceeding thus: "I had a chuma very prudentfrugalyoung ladwhothough he had no very large allowancehad by hisparsimonyheaped up upwards of forty guineaswhich I knew he keptin hisescritore. I took therefore an opportunity of purloining hiskey fromhis breeches-pocketwhile he was asleepand thus mademyselfmaster of all his riches: after which I again conveyed hiskey intohis pocketand counterfeiting sleep- though I never onceclosed myeyeslay in bed till after he arose and went toprayers-an exercise to which I had long been unaccustomed.

 "Timorous thievesby extreme cautionoften subject themselvestodiscoverieswhich those of a bolder kind escape. Thus it happenedto me; forhad I boldly broke open his escritoreI hadperhapsescapedeven his suspicion; but as it was plain that the person whorobbed himhad possessed himself of his keyhe had no doubtwhenhe firstmissed his moneybut that his chum was certainly thethief. Nowas he was of a fearful dispositionand much my inferior instrengthand I believe in couragehe did not dare to confront mewith myguiltfor fear of worse bodily consequences which mighthappen tohim. He repaired therefore immediately to thevice-chancellorand upon swearing to the robberyand to thecircumstancesof itvery easily obtained a warrant against one whohad now sobad a character through the whole university.

 "Luckily for meI lay out of the college the next evening; forthatday Iattended a young lady in a chaise to Witneywhere we staidall nightand in our returnthe next morningto OxfordI met oneof mycronieswho acquainted me with sufficient news concerningmyself tomake me turn my horse another way."

 "Praysirdid he mention anything of the warrant?" saidPartridge.But Jonesbegged the gentleman to proceed without regarding anyimpertinentquestions; which he did as follows:-

 "Having now abandoned all thoughts of returning to Oxfordthenext thingwhich offered itself was a journey to London. I impartedthisintention to my female companionwho at first remonstratedagainstit; but upon producing my wealthshe immediately consented.We thenstruck across the countryinto the great Cirencester roadand madesuch hastethat we spent the next eveningsave oneinLondon.

 "When you consider the place where I now wasand the companywithwhom Iwasyou willI fancyconceive that a very short time broughtme to anend of that sum of which I had so iniquitously possessedmyself.

  "Iwas now reduced to a much higher degree of distress thanbefore:the necessaries of life began to be numbered among my wants;and whatmade my case still the more grievous wasthat my paramourof whom Iwas now grown immoderately fondshared the samedistresseswith myself. To see a woman you love in distress; to beunable torelieve herand at the same time to reflect that you havebroughther into this situationis perhaps a curse of which noimaginationcan represent the horrors to those who have not feltit."

"I believe it from my soul" cries Jones"and I pityyou fromthe bottomof my heart:" he then took two or three disorderly turnsabout theroomand at last begged pardonand flung himself intohis chaircrying"I thank HeavenI have escaped that!"

 "This circumstance" continued the gentleman"soseverelyaggravatedthe horrors of my present situationthat they becameabsolutelyintolerable. I could with less pain endure the raging in myownnatural unsatisfied appetiteseven hunger or thirstthan I couldsubmit toleave ungratified the most whimsical desires of a woman onwhom I soextravagantly doatedthatthough I knew she had been themistressof half my acquaintanceI firmly intended to marry her.But thegood creature was unwilling to consent to an action whichthe worldmight think so much to my disadvantage. And aspossiblyshecompassionated the daily anxieties which she must have perceivedme sufferon her accountshe resolved to put an end to my distress.She soonindeedfound means to relieve me from troublesome andperplexedsituation; for while I was distracted with variousinventionsto supply her with pleasuresshe very kindly- betrayed meto one ofher former lovers at Oxfordby whose care and diligence Iwasimmediately apprehended and committed to gaol.

 "Here I first began seriously to reflect on the miscarriages ofmyformerlife; on the errors I had been guilty of; on the misfortuneswhich Ihad brought on myself; and on the grief which I must haveoccasionedto one of the best fathers. When I added to all these theperfidy ofmy mistresssuch was the horror of my mindthat lifeinstead ofbeing longer desirablegrew the object of my abhorrence;and Icould have gladly embraced death as my dearest friendif it hadoffereditself to my choice unattended by shame.

 "The time of the assizes some cameand I was removed by habeascorpus toOxfordwhere I expected certain conviction andcondemnation;butto my great surprizenone appeared against meandI wasatthe end the sessionsdischarged for want of procecution. Inshortmychum had left Oxfordand whether from indolenceor fromwhat othermotive I am ignoranthad declined concerning himself anyfarther inthe affair."

 "Perhaps" cries Partridge"he did not care to haveyour blood uponhis hands;he was in the right on't. If any person was to hangedupon myevidenceI should never able to lie alone afterwardsforfear ofseeing his ghost."

  "Ishall shortly doubtPartridge" says Jones"whether thouartmore braveor wise."

"You may laugh at mesirif you please"answeredPartridge; "but if you will hear a very short story which Ican telland which is most certainly trueperhaps you may changeyouropinion. In the parish where I was born--" Here Jones wouldsilencedhim; but the stranger interceded that he might be permittedto tellhis storyand in the meantime promised to recollect theremainderof his own.

 Partridge then proceeded thus: "In the parish where I was borntherelived a farmer whose name was Bridleand he had a son namesFrancisagood hopeful young fellow: I was at the grammar-school withhimwhereI remember he was got into Ovid's Epistlesand he couldconstrueyou three lines together sometimes without looking into adictionary.Besides all thishe was a very good ladnever missedchurch o'Sundaysand was reckoned one of the best psalm-singers inthe wholeparish. He would indeed now and then take a cup too muchand thatwas the only fault he had."

"Wellbut come to the ghost"criesJones. "Never fearsir; I shall come to him soon enough"answeredPartridge. "You must knowthenthat farmer Bridle lost amareasorrel oneto the best of my remembrance; and so it fellout thatthis young Francis shortly afterward being at a fair atHindonand as I think it was on--I can't remember the day; andbeing ashe waswhat should he happen to meet but a man upon hisfather'smare. Frank called out presentlyStop thief; and it being inthe middleof the fairit was impossibleyou knowfor the man tomake hisescape. So they apprehended him and carried him before thejustice: Iremember it was Justice Willoughbyof Noylea very worthygoodgentleman; and he committed him to prisonand bound Frank in arecognisanceI think they call it- a hard word compounded of re andcognosco;but it differs in its meaning from the use of the simpleasmany othercompounds do. Wellat last down came my Lord JusticePage tohold the assizes; and so the fellow was had upFrank washad up fora witness. To be sureI shall never forget the face of thejudgewhen he began to ask him what he had to say against theprisoner.He made poor Frank tremble and shake in his shoes. 'Wellyoufellow' says my lord'what have you to say? Don't stand hummingandhawingbut speak out.' Buthoweverhe soon turned altogether ascivil toFrankand began to thunder at the fellow; and when heasked himif he had anything to say for himselfthe fellow saidhehad foundthe horse. 'Ay!' answered the judge'thou art a luckyfellow: Ihave travelled the circuit these forty yearsand neverfound ahorse in my life: but I'll tell thee whatfriendthou wastmore luckythan thou didst know of; for thou didst not only find ahorsebuta halter tooI promise thee.' To be sureI shall neverforget theword. Upon which everybody fell a laughingas how couldthey helpit? Nayand twenty other jests he madewhich I can'tremembernow. There was something about his skill in horse-flesh whichmade allthe folks laugh. To be certainthe judge must have been avery bravemanas well as a man of much learning. It is indeedcharmingsport to hear trials upon life and death. One thing I ownthought alittle hardthat the prisoner's counsel was not suffered tospeak forhimthough he desired only to be heard one very short wordmy lordwould not hearken to himthough he suffered a counsellor totalkagainst him for above half-an-hour. I thought it hardI ownthat thereshould be so many of them; my lordand the courtandthe juryand the counsellorsand the witnessesall upon one poormanandhe too in chains. Wellthe fellow was hangedas to besure itcould be no otherwiseand poor Frank could never be easyabout it.He never was in the dark alonebut fancied he saw thefellow'sspirit."

"Welland is this thy story?" cries Jones."Nono"answered Partridge. "O Lord have mercy upon me! I am just nowcoming tothe matter; for one nightcoming from the alehousein alongnarrowdark lanethere he ran directly up against him; and thespirit wasall in whitefell upon Frank; and Frankwho was sturdyladfellupon the spirit againand there they had a tussel togetherand poorFrank was dreadfully beat: indeed he made a shift at lastcrawlhome; but what with the beatingand what with the frighthelay illabove a fortnight; and all this is most certainly trueandthe wholeparish will bear witness to it."

  Thestranger smiled at this storyand Jones burst into a loud fitoflaughter; upon which Partridge cried"Ayyou may laughsir;and so didsome othersparticularly a squirewho is thought to be nobetterthan an atheist; whoforsoothbecause there was a calf with awhite facefound dead in the same lane the next morningwould fainhave itthat the battle was between Frank and thatas if a calf wouldset upon aman. BesidesFrank told me he knew it to be a spiritand couldswear to him in any court in Christendom; and he had notdrankabove a quart or two or such a matter of liquorat the time.Lud havemercy upon usand keep us all from dipping our hands inbloodIsay!"

 "Wellsir" said Jones to the stranger"Mr.Partridge hathfinishedhis storyand I hope will give you no future interruptionif youwill be so kind to proceed." He then resumed his narration; butas he hathtaken breath for a whilewe think proper to give it to ourreaderand shall therefore put an end to this chapter.

Chapter12
In whichthe Man of the Hill continues his history

  "Ihad now regained my liberty" said the stranger; "but I hadlost myreputation; for there is a wide difference between the case ofa man whois barely acquitted of a crime in a court of justiceand ofhim who isacquitted in his own heartand in the opinion of thepeople. Iwas conscious of my guiltand ashamed to look any one inthe face;so resolved to leave Oxford the next morningbefore thedaylightdiscovered me to the eyes of any beholders.

 "When I had got clear of the cityit first entered into my headto returnhome to my fatherand endeavour to obtain hisforgiveness;but as I had no reason to doubt his knowledge of allwhich hadpastand as I was well assured of his great aversion to allacts ofdishonestyI could entertain no hopes of being received byhimespecially since I was too certain all the good offices in thepower ofmy mother; nayhad my father's pardon been as sureas Iconceivedhis resentment to beI yet question whether I could havehad theassurance to behold himor whether I couldupon any termshavesubmitted to live and converse with those whoI was convincedknew me tohave been guilty of so base an action.

  "Ihastened therefore back to Londonthe best retirement ofeithergrief or shameunless for persons of a very publiccharacter;for here you have the advantage of solitude without itsdisadvantagesince you may be alone and in company at the sametime; andwhile you walk or sit unobservednoisehurryand aconstantsuccession of objectsentertain the mindand prevent thespiritsfrom preying on themselvesor rather on grief or shamewhichare themost unwholesome diet in the world; and on which (though thereare manywho never taste either but in public) there are some whocan feedvery plentifully and very fatally when alone.

 "But as there is scarce any human good without its concomitantevilso thereare people who find an inconvenience in this unobservingtemper ofmankind; I mean persons who have no money; for as you arenot putout of countenanceso neither are you cloathed or fed bythose whodo not know you. And a man may be as easily starved inLeadenhall-marketas in the deserts of Arabia.

  "Itwas as present my fortune to be destitute of that great evilasit isapprehended to be by several writerswho I suppose wereoverburthenedwith itnamelymoney."

"With submissionsir" saidPartridge"I do not remember any writers who have called itmalorum;but irritamenta malorum. Effodiuntur opesirritamentamalorum."

"Wellsir" continued the stranger"whether it be aneviloronly the cause of evilI was entirely void of itand at thesame timeof friendsandas I thoughtof acquaintance; when oneeveningas I was passing through the Inner Templevery hungryandverymiserableI heard a voice on a sudden hailing me with greatfamiliarityby my Christian name; and upon my turning aboutIpresentlyrecollected the person who so saluted me to have been myfellow-collegiate;one who had left the university above a yearandlongbefore any of my misfortunes had befallen me. This gentlemanwhose namewas Watsonshook me heartily by the hand; and expressinggreat joyat meeting meproposed our immediately drinking a bottletogether.I first declined the proposaland pretended businessbutas he wasvery earnest and pressinghunger at last overcame my prideand Ifairly confessed to him I had no money in my pocket; yet notwithoutframing a lie for an excuseand imputing it to my havingchanged mybreeches that morning. Mr. Watson answered'I thoughtJackyouand I had been too old acquaintance for you to mentionsuch amatter.' He then took me by the armand was pulling mealong; butI gave him very little troublefor my own inclinationspulled memuch stronger than he could do.

  "Wethen went into the Friarswhich you know is the scene of allmirth andjollity. Herewhen we arrived at the tavernMr. Watsonappliedhimself to the drawer onlywithout taking the least notice ofthe cook;for he had no suspicion but that I had dined long since.Howeveras the case was really otherwiseI forged another falsehoodand toldmy companion I had been at the further end of the city onbusinessof consequenceand had snapt up a mutton-chop in haste; sothat I wasagain hungryand wished he would add a beef-steak to hisbottle."

"Some people" cries Partridge"ought to have goodmemories;or did you find just money enough in your breeches to payfor themutton-chop?"

"Your observation is right" answeredthestranger"and I believe such blunders are inseparable from alldealing inuntruth.- But to proceed- I began now to feel myselfextremelyhappy. The meat and wine soon revived my spirits to a highpitchandI enjoyed much pleasure in the conversation of my oldacquaintancethe rather as I thought him entirely ignorant of whathadhappened at the university since his leaving it.

 "But he did not suffer me to remain long in this agreeabledelusion;for takinga bumper in one handand holding me by the other'Heremy boy'cries he'here's wishing you joy of your being so honourablyacquittedof that affair laid to your charge. 'I was thunderstruckwithconfusion at those wordswhich Watson observingproceeded thus:'Naynever be ashamedman; thou hast been acquittedand no onenow darescall thee guilty; butpritheedo tell mewho am thyfriend- Ihope thou didst really rob him? for rat me if it was not ameritoriousaction to strip such a sneakingpitiful rascal; andinstead ofthe two hundred guineasI wish you had taken as manythousand.Comecomemy boydon't be shy of confessing to me: youare notnow brought before one of the pimps. D--n me if I don'thonour youfor it; foras I hope for salvationI would have madeno mannerof scruple of doing the same thing.'

 "This declaration a little relieved my abashment; and as winehadnowsomewhat opened my heartI very freely acknowledged therobberybut acquainted him that he had been misinformed as to the sumtakenwhich was little more than a fifth part of what he hadmentioned.

  "'Iam sorry for it with all my heart' quoth he'and I wish theebettersuccess another time. Thoughif you will take my adviceyoushall haveno occasion to run any such risque. Here' said hetakingsome dice out of his pocket'here's the stuff. Here are theimplements;here are the little doctors which cure the distempers ofthe purse.Follow but my counseland I will show you a way to emptythe pocketof a queer cull without any danger of the nubbing cheat.'"

 "Nubbing cheat!" cries Partridge: "praysirwhat isthat?"

 "Why thatsir" says the stranger"is a cant phrasefor thegallows;for as gamesters differ little from highwaymen in theirmoralssodo they very much resemble them in their language.

  "Wehad now each drank our bottlewhen Mr. Watson saidthe boardwassittingand that he must attendearnestly pressing me at thesame timeto go with him and try my fortune. I answered he knew thatwas atpresent out of my poweras I had informed him of the emptinessof mypocket. To say the truthI doubted not from his many strongexpressionsof friendshipbut that he would offer to lend me asmall sumfor that purposebut he answered'Never mind thatman;e'enboldly run a levant' [Partridge was going to inquire themeaning ofthat wordbut Jones stopped his mouth]: 'but becircumspectas to the man. I will tip you the proper personwhich maybenecessaryas you do not know the townnor can distinguish a rumcull froma queer one."

 "The bill was now broughtwhen Watson paid his shareand wasdeparting.I reminded himnot without blushingof my having nomoney. Heanswered'That signifies nothing; score it behind the dooror make abold rush and take no notice.- Or- stay' says he; 'I willgodown-stairs firstand then do you take up my moneyand scorethe wholereckoning at the barand I will wait for you at thecorner.' Iexpressed some dislike at thisand hinted myexpectationsthat he would have deposited the whole; but he swore hehad notanother sixpence in his pocket.

  "Hethen went downand I was prevailed on to take up the moneyand followhimwhich I did close enough to hear him tell the drawerthereckoning was upon the table. The drawer past by me up-stairs; butI madesuch haste into the streetthat I heard nothing of hisdisappointmentnor did I mention a syllable at the baraccordingto myinstructions.

  "Wenow went directly to the gaming-tablewhere Mr. Watsonto mysurprizepulled out a large sum of money placed it before himas didmanyothers; all of themno doubtconsidering their own heaps asso manydecoy birdswhich were to intice and draw over the heaps oftheirneighbours.

 "Here it would be tedious to relate all the freaks whichFortuneorrather thediceplayed in this her temple. Mountains of gold werein a fewmoments reduced to nothing at one part of the tableand roseassuddenly in another. The rich grew in a moment poorand the poorassuddenly became rich; so that it seemed a philosopher could nowherehave sowell instructed his pupils in the contempt of richesat leasthe couldnowhere have better inculcated the incertainty of theirduration.

 "For my own partafter having considerably improved my smallestateIat last entirely demolished it. Mr. Watson tooafter muchvariety ofluckrose from the table in some heatand declared he hadlost acool hundredand would play no longer. Then coming up to mehe askedme to return with him to the tavern; but I positivelyrefusedsayingI would not bring myself a second time into such adilemmaand especially as he had lost all his money and was now in myowncondition. 'Pooh!' says he'I have just borrowed a couple ofguineas ofa friendand one of them is at your service.' Heimmediatelyput one of them into my handand I no longer resisted hisinclination.

  "Iwas at first a little shocked at returning to the same housewhence wehad departed in so unhandsome a manner; but when the drawerwith verycivil addresstold usbelieved we had forgot to pay ourreckoning'I became perfectly easyand very readily gave him aguineabid him pay himselfand acquiesced in the unjust charge whichhad beenlaid on my memory.

 "Mr. Watson now bespoke the most extravagant supper he couldwellthink of;and though he had contented himself with simple claretbeforenothing now but the most precious Burgundy would serve hispurpose.

 "Our company was soon encreased by the addition of severalgentlemenfrom thegaming-table; most of whomas I afterwards foundcame notto thetavern to drinkbut in the way of business; for the truegamesterspretended to be illand refused their glasswhile theypliedheartily two young fellowswho were to be afterwardspillagedas indeed they were without mercy. Of this plunder I had thegoodfortune to be a sharerthough I was not yet let into the secret.

 "There was one remarkable accident attended this tavern play;forthe moneyby degrees totally disappeared; so that though at thebeginningthe table was half covered with goldyet before the playendedwhich it did not till the next daybeing Sundayat noonthere wasscarce a single guinea to be seen on the table; and this wasthestranger as every person presentexcept myselfdeclared he hadlost; andwhat was become of the moneyunless the devil himselfcarried itawayis difficult to determine."

 "Most certainly he did" says Partridge"for evilspirits can carryawayanything without being seenthough there were never so many folkin theroom; and I should not have been surprized if he had carriedaway allthe company of a set of wicked wretcheswho were at playin sermontime. And I could tell you a true storyif I wouldwherethe deviltook a man out of bed from another man's wifeand carriedhim awaythrough the keyhole of the door. I've seen the very housewhere itwas doneand nobody hath lived in it these thirty years."

 Though Jones was a little offended by the impertinence of Partridgehe couldnot however avoid smiling at his simplicity. The stranger didthe sameand then proceeded with his storyas will be seen in thenextchapter.

Chapter13
In whichthe foregoing story is farther continued

  "Myfellow-collegiate had now entered me in a scene of life. Isoonbecame acquainted with the whole fraternity of sharpersandwas letinto their secrets; I meaninto the knowledge of thosegrosscheats which are proper to impose upon the raw andunexperienced;for there are some tricks of a finer kindwhich areknown onlyto a few of the gangwho are at the head of theirprofession;a degree of honour beyond my expectation; for drinktowhich Iwas immoderately addictedand the natural warmth of mypassionsprevented me from arriving at any great success in an artwhichrequires as much coolness as the most austere school ofphilosophy.

 "Mr. Watsonwith whom I now lived in the closest amityhadunluckilythe former failing to a very great excess; so that insteadof makinga fortune by his professionas some others didhe wasalternatelyrich and poorand was often obliged to surrender to hiscoolerfriendsover a bottle which they never tastedthat plunderthat hehad taken from culls at the public table.

 "Howeverwe both made a shift to pick up an uncomfortablelivelihood;and for two years I continued of the calling; during whichtime Itasted all the varieties of fortunesometimes flourishing inaffluenceand at others being obliged to struggle with almostincredibledifficulties. To-day wallowing in luxuryand to-morrowreduced tothe coarsest and most homely fare. My fine clothes beingoften onmy back in the eveningand at the pawn-shop the nextmorning.

 "One nightas I was returning pennyless from the gaming-tableIobserved avery great disturbanceand a large mob gathered togetherin thestreet. As I was in no danger from pickpocketsI ventured intothe croudwhere upon enquiry I found that a man had been robbed andvery illused by some ruffians. The wounded man appeared verybloodyand seemed scarce able to support himself on his legs. As Ihad nottherefore been deprived of my humanity by my present lifeandconversationthough they had left me very little of eitherhonesty orshameI immediately offered my assistance to the unhappypersonwho thankfully accepted itandputting himself under myconductbegged me to convey him to some tavernwhere he might sendfor asurgeonbeingas he saidfaint with loss of blood. Heseemedindeed highly pleased at finding one who appeared in thedress of agentleman; for as to all the rest of the company presenttheiroutside was such that he could not wisely place any confidencein them.

  "Itook the poor man by the armand led him to the tavern wherewe keptour rendezvousas it happened to be the nearest at hand. Asurgeonhappening luckily to be in the houseimmediately attendedandapplied himself to dressing his woundswhich I had the pleasureto hearwere not likely to be mortal.

 "The surgeon having very expeditiously and dextrously finishedhisbusinessbegan to enquire in what part of the town the wounded manlodged;who answered'That he was come to town that very morning;that hishorse was at an inn in Piccadillyand that he had no otherlodgingand very little or no acquaintance in town.'

 "This surgeonwhose name I have forgotthough I remember itbegan withan Rhad the first character in his professionand wasserjeant-surgeonto the king. He had moreover many good qualitiesandwas a verygenerous good-natured manand ready to do any service tohisfellow-creatures. He offered his patient the use of his chariot tocarry himto his innand at the same time whispered in his ear'Thatif hewanted any moneyhe would furnish him.'

 "The poor man was not now capable of returning thanks for thisgenerousoffer; for having had his eyes for some time stedfastly onmehethrew himself back in his chaircrying'Ohmy son! myson!' andthen fainted away.

 "Many of the people present imagined this accident had happenedthroughhis loss of blood; but Iwho at the same time began torecollectthe features of my fatherwas now confirmed in mysuspicionand satisfied that it was he himself who appeared beforeme. Ipresently ran to himraised him in my armsand kissed his coldlips withthe utmost eagerness. Here I must draw a curtain over ascenewhich I cannot describe; for though I did not lose my beingas myfather for a while didmy senses were however so overpoweredwithaffright and surprizethat I am a stranger to what passed duringsomeminutesand indeed till my father had again recovered from hisswoonandI found myself in his armsboth tenderly embracing eachotherwhile the tears trickled a-pace down the cheeks of each of us.

 "Most of those present seemed affected by this scenewhich wewho mightbe considered as the actors in itwere desirous of removingfrom theeyes of all spectators as fast as we could; my fatherthereforeaccepted the kind offer of the surgeon's chariotand Iattendedhim in it to his inn.

 "When we were alone togetherhe gently upbraided me with havingneglectedto write to him during so long a timebut entirelyomittedthe mention of that crime which had occasioned it. He theninformedme of my mother's deathand insisted on my returning homewith himsaying'That he had long suffered the greatest anxiety onmyaccount; that he knew not whether he had most feared my death orwished itsince he had so many more dreadful apprehensions for me. Atlasthesaida neighbouring gentlemanwho had just recovered ason fromthe same placeinformed him where I was; and that to reclaimme fromthis course of life was the sole cause of his journey toLondon.'He thanked Heaven he had succeeded so far as to find me outby meansof an accident which had like to have proved fatal to him;and hadthe pleasure to think he partly owed his preservation to myhumanitywith which he profest himself to be more delighted than heshouldhave been with my filial pietyif I had known that theobject ofall my care was my own father.

 "Vice had not so depraved my heart as to excite in it aninsensibilityof so much paternal affectionthough so unworthilybestowed.I presently promised to obey his commands in my returnhome withhimas soon as he was able to travelwhich indeed he wasin a veryfew daysby the assistance of that excellent surgeon whohadundertaken his cure.

 "The day preceding my father's journey (before which time Iscarceever lefthim)I went to take my leave of some of my most intimateacquaintanceparticularly of Mr. Watsonwho dissuaded me fromburyingmyselfas he called itout of a simple compliance with thefonddesires of a foolish old fellow. Such sollicitationshoweverhad noeffectand I once more saw my own home. My father nowgreatlysollicited me to think of marriage; but my inclinations wereutterlyaverse to any such thoughts. I had tasted of love alreadyandperhapsyou know the extravagant excesses of that most tender and mostviolentpassion."-- Here the old gentleman pausedand lookedearnestlyat Jones; whose countenancewithin a minute's spacedisplayedthe extremities of both red and white. Upon which the oldmanwithout making any observationsrenewed his narrative.

 "Being now provided with all the necessaries of lifeI betookmyselfonce again to studyand that with a more inordinateapplicationthan I had ever done formerly. The books which nowemployedmy time solely were thoseas well antient as modernwhichtreat oftrue philosophya word which is by many thought to be thesubjectonly of farce and ridicule. I now read over the works ofAristotleand Platowith the rest of those inestimable treasureswhichantient Greece had bequeathed to the world.

 "These authorsthough they instructed me in no science by whichmenmaypromise to themselves to acquire the least riches or worldlypowertaught mehoweverthe art of despising the highestacquisitionsof both. They elevate the mindand steel and harden itagainstthe capricious invasions of fortune. They not only instruct intheknowledge of Wisdombut confirm men in her habitsanddemonstrateplainlythat this must be our guideif we propose everto arriveat the greatest worldly happinessor to defend ourselveswith anytolerable securityagainst the misery which everywheresurroundsand invests us.

  "Tothis I added another studycompared to whichall thephilosophytaught by the wisest heathens is little better than adreamandis indeed as full of vanity as the silliest jester everpleased torepresent it. This is that Divine wisdom which is aloneto befound in the Holy Scriptures; for they impart to us theknowledgeand assurance of things much more worthy our attentionthan allwhich this world can offer to our acceptance; of things whichHeavenitself hath condescended to reveal to usand to the smallestknowledgeof which the highest human wit unassisted could neverascend. Ibegan now to think all the time I had spent with the bestheathenwriters was little more than labour lost: forhoweverpleasantand delightful their lessons may beor however adequate tothe rightregulation of our conduct with respect to this world only;yetwhencompared with the glory revealed in Scripturetheir highestdocumentswill appear as triflingand of as little consequenceasthe rulesby which children regulate their childish little games andpastime.True it isthat philosophy makes us wiserbutChristianitymakes us better men. Philosophy elevates and steels themindChristianity softens and sweetens it. The for makes us theobjects ofhuman admirationthe latter of Divine love. That insuresus atemporalbut this an eternal happiness.- But I am afraid I tireyou withmy rhapsody."

 "Not at all" cries Partridge; "Lud forbid we shouldbe tired withgoodthings!"

  "Ihad spent" continued the stranger"about four years inthe mostdelightfulmanner to myselftotally given up to contemplationandentirelyunembarrassed with the affairs of the worldwhen I lostthe bestof fathersand one whom I so entirely lovedthat my griefat hisloss exceeds all description. I now abandoned my booksandgavemyself up for a whole month to the effects of melancholy anddespair.Timehoweverthe best physician of the mindat lengthbrought merelief."

"Ayay; Tempus edax rerum" saidPartridge.

"Ithen" continued the stranger"betook myself again to myformerstudieswhich I may say perfected my curefor philosophy andreligionmay be called the exercises of the mindand when this isdisorderedthey are as wholesome as exercise can be to adistemperedbody. They do indeed produce similar effects withexercise;for they strengthen and confirm the mindtill manbecomesin the noble strain of Horace-

    Fortiset in seipso totus teres atque rotundus
    Externi ne quid valeat per laeve morari;
    In quem manca ruit semper Fortuna"
 
 Here Jones smiled at some conceit which intruded itself into hisimagination;but the strangerI believeperceived it notandproceededthus:-

  "Mycircumstances were now greatly altered by the death of that bestof men;for my brotherwho was now become master of the housedifferedso widely from me in his inclinationsand our pursuits inlife hadbeen so very variousthat we were the worst of company toeachother: but what made our living together still more disagreeablewas thelittle harmony which could subsist between the few whoresortedto meand the numerous train of sportsmen who often attendedmy brotherfrom the field to the table; for such fellowsbesidesthe noiseand nonsense with which they persecute the ears of sobermenendeavour always to attack them with affront and contempt. Thiswas somuch the casethat neither I myselfnor my friendscouldever sitdown to a meal with them without being treated with derisionbecause wewere unacquainted with the phrases of sportsmen. For men oftruelearningand almost universal knowledgealways compassionatetheignorance of others; but fellows who excel in some littlelowcontemptibleartare always certain to despise those who areunacquaintedwith that art.

  "Inshortwe soon separatedand I wentby the advice of aphysicianto drink the Bath waters; for my violent afflictionadded to asedentary lifehad thrown me into a kind of paralyticdisorderfor which those waters are accounted an almost certain cure.The secondday after my arrivalas I was walking by the riverthesun shoneso intensely hot (though it was early in the year)that Iretired tothe shelter of some willowsand sat down by the riverside. HereI had not been seated long before I heard a person on theother sideof the willows sighing and bemoaning himself bitterly. On asuddenhaving uttered a most impious oathhe cried'I am resolvedto bear itno longer' directly threw himself into the water. Iimmediatelystartedand ran towards the placecalling at the sametime asloudly as I could for assistance. An angler happened luckilyto bea-fishing a little below though some very high sedge had hid himfrom mysight. He immediately came upand both of us togethernotwithoutsome hazard of our livesdrew the body to the shore. At firstweperceived no sign of life remaining; but having held the body up bythe heels(for we soon had assistance enough)it discharged a vastquantityof water at the mouthand at length began to discover somesymptomsof breathingand a little afterwards to move both itshands andits legs.

  "Anapothecarywho happened to be present among othersadvisedthat thebodywhich seemed now to have pretty well emptied itselfof waterand which began to have many convulsive motionsshould bedirectlytaken upand carried into a warm bed. This was accordinglyperformedthe apothecary and myself attending.

  "Aswe were going towards an innfor we knew not the man'slodgingsluckily a woman met uswhoafter some violent screamingtold usthat the gentleman lodged at her house.

 "When I had seen the man safely deposited thereI left him tothecare ofthe apothecary; whoI supposeused all the right methodswith himfor the next morning I heard he had perfectly recoveredhissenses.

  "Ithen went to visit himintending to search outas well as Icouldthecause of his having attempted so desperate an actand topreventas far as I was ablehis pursuing such wicked intentions forthefuture. I was no sooner admitted into his chamberthan we bothinstantlyknew each other; for who should this person be but my goodfriend Mr.Watson! Here I will not trouble you with what past at ourfirstinterview; for I would avoid prolixity as much aspossible."

"Pray let us hear all" cries Partridge; "I wantmightilyto knowwhat brought him to Bath."

 "You shall hear everything material" answered thestranger; andthenproceeded to relate what we shall proceed to writeafter we havegiven ashort breathing time to both ourselves and the reader.

Chapter14
In whichthe Man of the Hill concludes his history

 "Mr. Watson" continued the stranger"very freelyacquainted methat theunhappy situation of his circumstancesoccasioned by atide ofill luckhad in a manner forced him to a resolution ofdestroyinghimself.

  "Inow began to argue very seriously with himin opposition to thisheathenishor indeed diabolicalprinciple of the lawfulness ofself-murder;and said everything which occurred to me on thesubject;butto my great concernit seemed to have very littleeffect onhim. He seemed not at all to repent of what he had doneandgave mereason to fear he would soon make a second attempt of the likehorriblekind.

 "When I had finished my discourseinstead of endeavouring toanswermyargumentshe looked me stedfastly in the faceand with a smilesaid'Youare strangely alteredmy good friendsince I rememberyou. Iquestion whether any of our bishops could make a betterargumentagainst suicide than you have entertained me with; but unlessyou canfind somebody who will lend me a cool hundredI must eitherhangordrownor starveandin my opinionthe last death is themostterrible of the three.'

  "Ianswered him very gravely that I was indeed altered since I hadseen himlast. That I had found leisure to look into my follies and torepent ofthem. I then advised him to pursue the same steps; and atlastconcluded with an assurance that I myself would lend him ahundredpoundif it would be of any service to his affairsand hewould notput it into the power of a die to deprive him of it.

 "Mr. Watsonwho seemed almost composed in slumber by the formerpart of mydiscoursewas roused by the latter. He seized my handeagerlygave me a thousand thanksand declared I was a friendindeed;adding that he hoped I had a better opinion of him than toimagine hehad profited so little by experienceas to put anyconfidencein those damned dice which had so often deceived him.'Nono'cries he; 'let me but once handsomely be set up againandif everFortune makes a broken merchant of me afterwardsI willforgiveher.'

  "Ivery well understood the language of setting upand brokenmerchant.I therefore said to himwith a very grave faceMr. Watsonyou mustendeavour to find out some business or employmentby whichyou mayprocure yourself a livelihood; and I promise youcould Isee anyprobability of being repaid hereafterI would advance amuchlarger sum than what you have mentionedto equip you in any fairandhonourable calling; but as to gamingbesides the baseness andwickednessof making it a professionyou are reallyto my ownknowledgeunfit for itand it will end in your certain ruin.

 "'Why nowthat's strange' answered he; neither younor any ofmyfriendswould ever allow me to know anything of the matterandyet Ibelieve I am as good a hand at every game as any of you all; andI heartilywish I was to play with you only for your whole fortune:I shoulddesire no better sportand I would let you name your gameinto thebargain: but comemy dear boyhave you the hundred inyourpocket?"

  "Ianswered I had only a bill for L50which I delivered himandpromisingto bring him the rest next morning; and after giving him alittlemore advicetook my leave.

  "Iwas indeed better than my word; for I returned to him that veryafternoon.When I entered the roomI found him sitting up in hisbed atcards with a notorious gamester. This sightyou willimagineshocked me not a little; to which I may add the mortificationof seeingmy bill delivered by him to his antagonistand thirtyguineasonly given in exchange for it.

 "The other gamester presently quitted the roomand then Watsondeclaredhe was ashamed to see me; 'but' says he'I find luck runssodamnably against methat I will resolve to leave off play forever. Ihave thought of the kind proposal you made me ever sinceand Ipromise you there shall be no fault in meif I do not put it inexecution.'

 "Though I had no great faith in his promisesI produced him theremainderof the hundred in consequence of my own; for which he gaveme a notewhich was all I ever expected to see in return for mymoney.

  "Wewere prevented from any further discourse at present by thearrival ofthe apothecary; whowith much joy in his countenanceandwithout even asking his patient how he didproclaimed there wasgreat newsarrived in a letter to himselfwhich he said would shortlybe public'That the Duke of Monmouth was landed in the west with avast armyof Dutch; and that another vast fleet hovered over the coastofNorfolkand was to make a descent therein order to favour theduke'senterprize with a diversion on that side.'

 "This apothecary was one of the greatest politicians of histime. Hewas moredelighted with the most paultry packetthan with the bestpatientand the highest joy he was capable ofhe received fromhaving apiece of news in his possession an hour or two sooner thanany otherperson in town. His adviceshoweverwere seldom authentic;for hewould swallow almost anything a truth- a humour which manymade useof to impose upon him.

 "Thus it happened with what he at present communicated; for itwasknownwithin a short time afterwards that the duke was reallylandedbut that his army consisted only of a few attendants; and asto thediversion in Norfolkit was entirely false.

 "The apothecary staid no longer in the room than while heacquaintedus withhis news; and thenwithout saying a syllable to his patienton anyother subjectdeparted to spread his advices all over thetown.

 "Events of this nature in the public are generally apt toeclipseallprivate concerns. Our discourse therefore now became entirelypolitical.For my own partI had been for some time very seriouslyaffectedwith the danger to which the Protestant religion was sovisiblyexposed under a Popish princeand thought the apprehension ofit alonesufficient to justify that insurrection; for no real securitycan everbe found against the persecuting spirit of Poperywhen armedwithpowerexcept the depriving it of that poweras woefulexperiencepresently showed. You know how King James behaved aftergettingthe better of this attempt; how little he valued either hisroyalwordor coronation oathor the liberties and rights of hispeople.But all had not the sense to foresee this at first; andthereforethe Duke of Monmouth was weakly supported; yet all couldfeel whenthe evil came upon them; and therefore all unitedatlasttodrive out that kingagainst whose exclusion a great partyamong ushad so warmly contended during the reign of his brotherand forwhom they now fought with such zeal and affection."

 "What you say" interrupted Jones"is very true; andit has oftenstruck meas the most wonderful thing I ever read of in historythatso soonafter this convincing experience which brought our wholenation tojoin so unanimously in expelling King Jamesfor thepreservationof our religion and libertiesthere should be a partyamong usmad enough to desire the placing his family again on thethrone."

"You are not in earnest!" answered the old man; "therecan beno suchparty. As bad an opinion as I have of mankindI cannotbelievethem infatuated to such a degree. There may be some hot-headedPapistsled by their priests to engage in this desperate causeandthink it aholy war; but that Protestantsthat are members of theChurch ofEnglandshould be such apostatessuch felos de seIcannotbelieve it; nonoyoung manunacquainted as I am with whathas pastin the world for these last thirty yearsI cannot be soimposedupon as to credit so foolish a tale; but I see you have a mindto sportwith my ignorance."

"Can it be possible" repliedJones"thatyou have lived so much out of the world as not to know thatduringthat time there have been two rebellions in favour of the sonof KingJamesone of which is now actually raging in the very heartof thekingdom." At these words the old gentleman started upand in amostsolemn tone of voiceconjured Jones by his Maker to tell himif what hesaid was really true; which the other as solemnlyaffirminghe walked several turns about the room in a profoundsilencethen criedthen laughedand at last fell down on his kneesandblessed Godin a loud thanksgiving prayerfor having deliveredhim fromall society with human naturewhich could be capable of suchmonstrousextravagances. After whichbeing reminded by Jones thathe hadbroke off his storyhe resumed it again in this manner:-

  "Asmankindin the days I was speaking ofwas not yet arrived atthat pitchof madness which I find they are capable of nowand whichto besureI have only escaped by living aloneand at a distancefrom thecontagionthere was a considerable rising in favour ofMonmouth;and my principles strongly inclining me to take the samepartIdetermined to join him; and Mr. Watsonfrom different motivesconcurringin the same resolution (for the spirit of a gamester willcarry aman as far upon such an occasion as the spirit of patriotism)we soonprovided ourselves with all necessariesand went to theduke atBridgewater.

 "The unfortunate event of this enterprizeyou areI concludeaswellacquainted with as myself. I escapedtogether with Mr. Watsonfrom thebattle at Sedgemorein which action I received a slightwound. Werode near forty miles together on the Exeter roadandthenabandoning our horsesscrambled as well as we could throughthe fieldsand bye-roadstill we arrived at a little wild hut on acommonwhere a poor old woman took all the care of us she couldanddressed my wound with salvewhich quickly healed it."

 "Praysirwhere was the wound?" says Partridge. Thestrangersatisfiedhim it was in his armand then continued his narrative."Heresir" said he"Mr. Watson left me the next morninginorderashe pretendedto get us some provision from the town ofCollumpton;but- can I relate itor can you believe it?- this Mr.Watsonthis friendthis basebarbaroustreacherous villainbetrayedme to a party of horse belonging to King Jamesand at hisreturndelivered me into their hands.

 "The soldiersbeing six in numberhad now seized meand wereconductingme to Taunton gaol; but neither my present situationnortheapprehensions of what might happen to mewere half so irksometo my mindas the company of my false friendwhohavingsurrenderedhimselfwas likewise considered as a prisonerthoughhe wasbetter treatedas being to make his peace at my expense. He atfirstendeavoured to excuse his treachery; but when he receivednothingbut scorn and upbraiding from mehe soon changed his noteabused meas the most atrocious and malicious rebeland laid allhis ownguilt to my chargewhoas he declaredhad solicitedandeventhreatened himto make him take up arms against his graciousas well aslawful sovereign.

 "This false evidence (for in reality he had been much theforwarderof the two) stung me to the quickand raised an indignationscarceconceivable by those who have not felt it. Howeverfortuneat lengthtook pity on me; for as we were got a little beyondWellingtonin a narrow lanemy guards received a false alarmthatnear fiftyof the enemy were at hand; upon which they shifted forthemselvesand left me and my betrayer to do the same. That villainimmediatelyran from meand I am glad he didor I should havecertainlyendeavouredthough I had no armsto have executedvengeanceon his baseness.

  "Iwas now once more at liberty; and immediately withdrawing fromthehighway into the fieldsI travelled onscarce knowing whichway Iwentand making it my chief care to avoid all public roadsand alltowns- nayeven the most homely houses; for I imagined everyhumancreature whom I saw desirous of betraying me.

  "Atlastafter rambling several days about the countryduringwhich thefields afforded me the same bed and the same food whichnaturebestows on our savage brothers of the creationI at lengtharrived atthis placewhere the solitude and wildness of thecountryinvited me to fix my abode. The first person with whom Itook up myhabitation was the mother of this old womanwith whom Iremainedconcealed till the news of the glorious revolution put an endto all myapprehensions of dangerand gave me an opportunity ofonce morevisiting my own homeand of enquiring a little into myaffairswhich I soon settled as agreeably to my brother as to myself;havingresigned everything to himfor which he paid me the sum of athousandpoundsand settled on me an annuity for life.

 "His behaviour in this last instanceas in all otherswasselfishand ungenerous. I could not look on him as my friendnorindeed didhe desire that I should; so I presently took my leave ofhimaswell as of my other acquaintance; and from that day to thismy historyis little better than a blank."

 "And is it possiblesir" said Jones"that you canhave residedhere fromthat day to this?"

"O nosir" answered thegentleman; "Ihave beena great travellerand there are few parts of Europe withwhich I amnot acquainted."

"I have notsir" cried Jones"theassuranceto ask it of you now; indeed it would be cruelafter somuchbreath as you already spent: but you will give me leave to wishfor somefurther opportunity of the excellent observations which a manof yoursense and knowledge of the world must made in so long a courseoftravels."

"Indeedyoung gentleman" answered thestranger"Iwillendeavour to satisfy your curiosity on this head likewiseas faras I amable." Jones attempted fresh apologiesbut was prevented; andwhile heand Partridge sat with and impatient earsthe strangerproceededin the next chapter.

Chapter15
A briefhistory of Europe; and a curious discourse between Mr. Jonesand theMan on the Hill

  "InItaly the landlords are very silent. France they are moretalkativebut yet civil. In Germany and Holland they are generallyveryimpertinent. And as for their honestyI believe it is prettyequal inall those countries. The laquais a louange are sure to losenoopportunity of cheating you; and as for the postilionsI thinkthey arepretty much alike the world over. Thesesirare theobservationson men which I made in my travels; for these were theonly men Iever conversed with. My designwhen I went abroadwasto divertmyself by seeing the wondrous variety of prospectsbeastsbirdsfishesinsectsand vegetableswith which God hasbeenplease to enrich the several parts of this globe; a whichasit mustgive great pleasure to a contemplative beholderso doth itadmirablythe powerand wisdomand goodness of the Creator.Indeedtosay the truththere is but one work in his wholecreationthat him any dishonourand with that I have long sinceavoidedbolding any conversation."

 "You will pardon me" cries Jones; "but I have alwaysimaginedthat thereis in this work you mention as great variety as in allthe rest;forbesides the difference of inclinationcustoms andclimateshaveI am introduced the utmost diversity into humannature."

 "Very little indeed" answered the other: to "thosewho travel inorder toacquaint themselves with the different manners of men mightsparethemselves much pains by going to a carnival at Venice; forthere theywill see at once all which they can discover in the severalcourts ofEurope. The same hypocrisythe same fraud; in shortthesamefollies and vices dressed in different habits. In Spaintheseareequipped with much gravity; and in Italywith vast splendor. InFranceaknave is dressed like a fop; and in the northerncountrieslike a sloven. But human nature is everywhere the sameeverywherethe object of detestation and scorn.

  "Asfor my own partI past through all these nations as you perhapsmay havedone through a croud at a show- jostling to get by themholding mynose with one handand defending my pockets with theotherwithout speaking a word to any of themwhile I was pressing onto seewhat I wanted to see; whichhowever entertaining it might bein itselfscarce made me amends for the trouble the company gave me."

 "Did not you find some of the nations among which you travelledlesstroublesometo you than others?" said Jones. "O yes" replied theold man:"the Turks were much more tolerable to me than theChristians;for they are men of profound taciturnityand neverdisturb astranger with questions. Now and then indeed they bestow ashortcurse upon himor spit in his face as he walks the streetsbutthen theyhave done with him; and a man may live an age in theircountrywithout hearing a dozen words from them. But of all the peopleI eversawheaven defend me from the French! With their damnedprate andcivilities and doing the honour of their nation to strangers(as theyare pleased to call it)but indeed setting forth their ownvanity;they are so troublesomethat I had infinitely rather passmy lifewith the Hottentots than set my foot in Paris again. Theyare anasty peoplebut their nastiness is mostly without; whereasinFranceand some other nations that I won't nameit is all withinand makesthem stink much more to my reason than that of Hottentotsdoes to mynose.

 "ThussirI have ended the history of my life; for as to allthatseries of years during which I have lived retired hereitaffords novariety to entertain youand may be almost considered asone day.The retirement has been so compleatthat I could hardly haveenjoyed amore absolute solitude in the deserts of the Thebais thanhere inthe midst of this populous kingdom. As I have no estateIam plaguedwith no tenants or stewards: my annuity is paid me prettyregularlyas indeed it ought to be; for it is much less than what Imight haveexpected in return for what I gave up. Visits I admit none;and theold woman who keeps my house knows that her place entirelydependsupon her saving me all the trouble of buying the things that Iwantkeeping off all sollicitation or business from meand holdingher tonguewhenever I am within hearing. As my walks are all by nightI ampretty secure in this wild unfrequented place from meeting anycompany.Some few persons I have met by chanceand sent them homeheartilyfrightedas from the oddness of my dress and figure theytook mefor a ghost or a hobgoblin. But what has happened to-nightshows thateven here I cannot be safe from the villany of men; forwithoutyour assistance I had not only been robbedbut veryprobablymurdered."

 Jones thanked the stranger for the trouble he had taken inrelatinghis storyand then expressed some wonder how he couldpossiblyendure a life of such solitude; "in which" says he"youmaywellcomplain of the want of variety. Indeed I am astonished how youhavefilled upor rather killedso much of your time."

  "Iam not at all surprized" answered the other"that to onewhoseaffections and thoughts are fixed on the world my hours shouldappear tohave wanted employment in this place: but there is onesingleactfor which the whole life of man is infinitely too short:what timecan suffice for the contemplation and worship of thatgloriousimmortaland eternal Beingamong the works of whosestupendouscreation not only this globebut even those numberlessluminarieswhich we may here behold spangling all the skythough theyshouldmany of them be suns lighting different systems of worldsmaypossibly appear but as a few atoms opposed to the whole earthwhich weinhabit? Can a man who by divine meditations is admitted asit wereinto the conversation of this ineffableincomprehensibleMajestythink daysor yearsor agestoo long for the continuanceof soravishing an honour? Shall the trifling amusementsthepallingpleasuresthe silly business of the worldroll away ourhours tooswiftly from us; and shall the pace of time seem sluggish toa mindexercised in studies so highso importantand so glorious? Asno time issufficientso no place is properfor this greatconcern.On what object can we cast our eyes which may not inspireus withideas of his powerof his wisdomand of his goodness? Itis notnecessary that the rising sun should dart his fiery gloriesover theeastern horizon; nor that the boisterous winds should rushfrom theircavernsand shake the lofty forest; nor that the openingcloudsshould pour their deluges on the plains: it is not necessaryIsaythatany of these should proclaim his majesty: there is not aninsectnot a vegetableof so low an order in the creation as notto behonoured with bearing marks of the attributes of its greatCreator;marks not only of his powerbut of his wisdom andgoodness.Man alonethe king of this globethe last and greatestwork ofthe Supreme Beingbelow the sun; man alone hath baselydishonouredhis own nature; and by dishonestycrueltyingratitudeandtreacheryhath called his Maker's goodness in questionbypuzzlingus to account how a benevolent being should form so foolishand sovile an animal. Yet this is the being from whose conversationyou thinkI supposethat I have been unfortunately restrainedandwithoutwhose blessed societylifein your opinionmust betediousand insipid."

  "Inthe former part of what you said" replied Jones"I mostheartilyand readily concur; but I believeas well as hopethattheabhorrence which you express for mankind in the conclusionismuch toogeneral. Indeedyou here fall into an errorwhich in mylittleexperience I have observed to be a very common oneby takingthecharacter of mankind from the worst and basest among them;whereasindeedas an excellent writer observesnothing should beesteemedas characteristical of a speciesbut what is to be foundamong thebest and most perfect individuals of that species. ThiserrorIbelieveis generally committed by those who from want ofpropercaution in the choice of their friends and acquaintancehavesufferedinjuries from bad and worthless men; two or three instancesof whichare very unjustly charged on all human nature."

  "Ithink I had experience enough of it" answered the other: "myfirstmistress and my first friend betrayed me in the basest mannerand inmatters which threatened to be of the worst of consequences-even tobring me to a shameful death."

 "But you will pardon me" cries Jones"if I desireyou to reflectwho thatmistress and who that friend were. What bettermy goodsircouldbe expected in love derived from the stewsor infriendshipfirst produced and nourished at the gaming-table? To takethecharacters of women from the former instance or of men from thelatterwould be as unjust as to assert that air is a nauseous andunwholesomeelementbecause we find it so in a jakes. I have livedbut ashort time in the worldand yet have known men worthy of thehighestfriendshipand women of the highest love."

 "Alas! young man" answered the stranger"you havelivedyouconfessbut a very short time in the world: I was somewhat older thanyou when Iwas of the same opinion."

 "You might have remained so still" replies Jones"ifyou had notbeenunfortunateI will venture to say incautiousin the placingyouraffections. If there wasindeedmuch more wickedness in theworld thanthere isit would not prove such general assertionsagainsthuman naturesince much of this arrives by mere accidentandmany a manwho commits evil is not totally bad and corrupt in hisheart. Intruthnone seem to have any title to assert human nature tobenecessarily and universally evilbut those whose own mindsaffordthem one instance of this natural depravity; which is notI amconvincedyour case."

 "And such" said the stranger"will be always themost backwardto assertany such thing. Knaves will no more endeavour to persuade usof thebaseness of mankindthan a highwayman will inform you thatthere arethieves on the road. This wouldindeedbe a method toput you onyour guardand to defeat their own purposes. For whichreasonthough knavesas I rememberare very apt to abuse particularpersonsyet they never cast any reflection on human nature ingeneral."The old gentleman spoke this so warmlythat as Jonesdespairedof making a convertand was unwilling to offendhereturnedno answer.

  Theday now began to send forth its first streams of lightwhenJones madean apology to the stranger for having staid so longandperhapsdetained him from his rest. The stranger answered"He neverwantedrest less than at present; for that day and night wereindifferentseasons to him; and that he commonly made use of theformer forthe time of his repose and of the latter for his walksandlucubrations. However" said he"it is now a most lovelymorningand if youcan bear any longer to be without your own rest or foodI willgladly entertain you with the sight of some very fine prospectswhich Ibelieve you have not yet seen."

 Jones very readily embraced this offerand they immediately setforwardtogether from the cottage. As for Partridgehe had falleninto aprofound repose just as the stranger had finished his story;for hiscuriosity was satisfiedand the subsequent discourse wasnotforcible enough in its operation to conjure down the charms ofsleep.Jones therefore left him to enjoy his nap; and as the readermayperhaps be at this season glad of the same favourwe will hereput an endto the eighth book of our history.

BOOK IXCONTAININGTWELVE HOURS

Chapter1
Of thosewho lawfully mayand of those who may notwrite suchhistoriesas this

 Among other good uses for which I have thought proper to institutetheseseveral introductory chaptersI have considered them as akind ofmark or stampwhich may hereafter enable a very indifferentreader todistinguish what is true and genuine in this historic kindofwritingfrom what is false and counterfeit. Indeedit seemslikelythat some such mark may shortly become necessarysince thefavourablereception which two or three authors have lately procuredfor theirworks of this nature from the publicwill probably serve asanencouragement to many others to undertake the like. Thus a swarm offoolishnovels and monstrous romances will be producedeither tothe greatimpoverishing of book-sellersor to the great loss oftime anddepravation of morals in the reader; nayoften to thespreadingof scandal and calumnyand to the prejudice of thecharactersof many worthy and honest people.

  Iquestion not but the ingenious author of the Spectator wasprincipallyinduced to prefix Greek and Latin mottos to every paperfrom thesame consideration of guarding against the pursuit of thosescribblerswho having no talents of a writer but what is taught bythewriting-masterare yet nowise afraid nor ashamed to assume thesametitles with the greatest geniusthan their good brother in thefable wasof braying in the lion's skin.

  Bythe device therefore of his mottoit became impracticable forany man topresume to imitate the Spectatorswithout understanding atleast onesentence in the learned languages. In the same manner I havenowsecured myself from the imitation of those who are utterlyincapableof any degree of reflectionand whose learning is not equalto anessay.

  Iwould not be here understood to insinuatethat the greatest meritof suchhistorical productions can ever lie in these introductorychapters;butin factthose parts which contain mere narrative onlyaffordmuch more encouragement to the pen of an imitatorthan thosewhich arecomposed of observation and reflection. Here I mean suchimitatorsas Rowe was of Shakespearor as Horace hints some of theRomanswere of Catoby bare feet and sour faces.

  Toinvent good storiesand to tell them wellare possibly veryraretalentsand yet I have observed few persons who have scrupled toaim atboth: and if we examine the romances and novels with whichthe worldaboundsI think we may fairly concludethat most of theauthorswould not have attempted to show their teeth (if theexpressionmay be allowed me) in any other way of writing; nor couldindeedhave strung together a dozen sentences on any other subjectwhatever.Scribimus indocti doctique passimmay be moretruly saidof thehistorian and biographerthan of any other species of writing;for allthe arts and sciences (even criticism itself) require somelittledegree of learning and knowledge. Poetryindeedmay perhapsbe thoughtan exception; but then it demands numbersor somethinglikenumbers: whereasto the composition of novels and romancesnothing isnecessary but paperpensand inkwith the manualcapacityof using them. ThisI conceivetheir productions show to betheopinion of the authors themselves: and this must be the opinion oftheirreadersif indeed there be any such.

 Hence we are to derive that universal contempt which the worldwho alwaysdenominates the whole from the majorityhave cast on allhistoricalwriters who do not draw their materials from records. Andit is theapprehension of this contempt that hath made us socautiouslyavoid the term romancea name with which we mightotherwisehave been well enough contented. Thoughas we hive goodauthorityfor all our charactersno less indeed than the vastauthenticdoomsday-book of natureas is elsewhere hintedour labourshavesufficient title to the name of history. Certainly they deservesomedistinction from those workswhich one of the wittiest of menregardedonly as proceeding from a pruritusor indeed rather from aloosenessof the brain.

  Butbesides the dishonour which is thus cast on one of the mostuseful aswell as entertaining of all kinds of writingthere isjustreason to apprehendthat by encouraging such authors we shallpropagatemuch dishonour of another kind; I mean to the charactersof manygood and valuable members of society; for the dullest writersno morethan the dullest companionsare always inoffensive. They havebothenough of language to be indecent and abusive. And surely iftheopinion just above cited be truewe cannot wonder that works sonastilyderived should be nasty themselvesor have a tendency to makeothers so.

  Toprevent thereforefor the futuresuch intemperate abuses ofleisureof lettersand of the liberty of the pressespecially asthe worldseems at present to be more than usually threatened withthemIshall here venture to mention some qualificationsevery oneof whichare in a pretty high degree necessary to this order ofhistorians.

  Thefirst isgeniuswithout a full vein of which no studysaysHoracecan avail us. By genius I would understand that the power orratherthose powers of the mindwhich are capable of penetrating intoall thingswithin our reach and knowledgeand of distinguishing theiressentialdifferences. These are no other than invention and judgment;and theyare both called by the collective name of geniusas they areof thosegifts of nature which we bring with us into the world.Concerningeach of which many seem to have fallen into very greaterrors;for by inventionI believeis generally understood acreativefacultywhich would indeed prove most romance writers tohave thehighest pretensions to it; whereas by invention is reallymeant nomore (and so the word signifies) than discoveryfinding out;or toexplain it at largea quick and sagacious penetration intothe trueessence of all the objects of our contemplation. This Ithinkcanrarely exist without the concomitancy of judgment; forhow we canbe said to have discovered the true essence of twothingswithout discerning their differenceseems to me hard toconceive.Now this last is the undisputed province of judgmentandyet somefew men of wit have agreed with all the dull fellows in theworld inrepresenting these two to have been seldom or never thepropertyof one and the same person.

  Butthough they should be sothey are not sufficient for ourpurposewithout a good share of learning; for which I could againcite theauthority of Horaceand of many othersif any was necessaryto provethat tools are of no service to a workmanwhen they arenotsharpened by artor when he wants rules to direct him in hisworkorhath no matter to work upon. All these uses are supplied bylearning;for nature can only furnish with capacity; oras I havechose toillustrate itwith the tools of our profession; learningmust fitthem for usemust direct them in itand lastlymustcontributepart at least of the materials. A competent knowledge ofhistoryand of the belleslettres is here absolutely necessary; andwithoutthis share of knowledge at leastto affect the character ofanhistorianis as vain as to endeavour at building a house withouttimber ormortaror brick or stone. Homer and Miltonwhothoughthey addedthe ornament of numbers to their workswere bothhistoriansof our orderwere masters of all the learning of theirtimes.

 Againthere is another sort of knowledgebeyond the power oflearningto bestowand this is to be had by conversation. Sonecessaryis this to the understanding the characters of menthatnone aremore ignorant of them than those learned pedants whoselives havebeen entirely consumed in collegesand among books; forhoweverexquisitely human nature may have been described by writersthe truepractical system can be learnt only in the world. Indeedthelikehappens every other kind of knowledge. Neither physic nor law areto bepractically known from books. Naythe farmerthe planterthegardenermust perfect by experience what he hath acquired therudimentsof by reading. How accurately soever the ingenious Mr.Miller mayhave described the planthe himself would advise hisdiscipleto see it in the garden. As we must perceivethat afterthe niceststrokes of a Shakespear or a Jonsonof a Wycherly or anOtwaysome touches of nature will escape the readerwhich thejudiciousaction of a Garrickof a Cibberor a Clivecan convey tohim; soon the real stagethe character shows himself in astrongerand bolder light than he can be described. And if this be thecase inthose fine and nervous descriptions which great authorsthemselveshave taken from lifehow much more strongly will it holdwhen thewriter himself takes his lines not from naturebut frombooks?Such characters are only the faint copy of a copyand can haveneitherthe justness nor spirit of an original.

  Nowthis conversation in our historian must be universalthat iswith allranks and degrees of men; for the knowledge of what is calledhigh lifewill not instruct him in low; nore conversowill hisbeingacquainted with the inferior part of mankind teach him themanners ofthe superior. And though it may be thought that theknowledgeof either may sufficiently enable him to describe at leastthat inwhich he hath been conversantyet he will even here fallgreatlyshort of perfection; for the follies of either rank do inrealityillustrate each other. For instancethe affectation of highlifeappears more glaring and ridiculous from the simplicity of thelow; andagainthe rudeness and barbarity of this latterstrikeswith muchstronger ideas of absurditywhen contrasted withandopposedtothe politeness which controls the former. Besidestosay thetruththe manners of our historian will be improved by boththeseconversations; for in the one he will easily find examples ofplainnesshonestyand sincerity; in the other of refinementeleganceand a liberality of spirit; which last quality I myself havescarceever seen in men of low birth and education.

  Norwill all the qualities I have hitherto given my historianavail himunless he have what is generally meant by a good heartandbe capableof feeling. The author who make me weepsays Horacemust firstweep himself. In realityno man can paint a well whichhe dothnot feel while he is painting it; nor do I doubtbut that themostpathetic and affecting scenes have been writ with tears. In thesamemanner it is with the ridiculous. I am convinced I never make myreaderlaugh heartily but where I have laughed before him; unless itshouldhappen at any timethat instead of laughing with me heshould beinclined to laugh at me. Perhaps this may have been the caseat somepassages in this chapterfrom which apprehension I willhere putan end to it.

Chapter2
Containinga very surprizing adventure indeedwhich Mr. Jones metwith inhis walk with the Man of the Hill

 Aurora now first opened her casementAnglice the day began tobreakwhen walked forth in company with the strangerand mountedMazardHill; of which they had no sooner gained the summit than one ofthe mostnoble prospects in the world presented itself to theirviewandwhich we would likewise present to the readerbut for tworeasons:we despair of making those who have seen this prospect admireourdescription; secondlywe very much doubt whether who have notseen itwould understand it.

 Jones stood for some minutes fixed in one postureand directing hiseyestowards the south; upon which the old gentleman askedhe waslooking atwith so much attention? "Alas! sir" answered he with asighwasendeavouring to trace out my own journey hither. Goodheavens!what a distance is Gloucester from us! What a vast track ofland bebetween me and my own home!"

"Ayayyoung gentleman"cries theother"and your sighingfrom what you love better your ownhomeor Iam mistaken. I perceive now the object of yourcontemplationis not within your sightand yet I fancy you havepleasurein looking that way. "Jones answered with a smile"I findoldfriendyou have not yet forgot the sensations of your youth. I mythoughtswere employed as you have guessed."

 They now walked to that part of the hill which looks to thenorth-westand which hangs a vast and extensive wood. Here they nosoonerarrived than they heard at a distance the most violentscreams ofa womanproceeding from the wood below them. Joneslistened amomentand thenwithout saying a word to his companion(forindeed the occasion seemed sufficiently pressing)ranor rathersliddownthe hilland without the least apprehension or concern forhis ownsafetymade directly to the thicketwhence the sound hadissued.

  Hehad not entered far into the wood before he beheld a mostshockingsight indeeda woman stript half nakedunder the hands of aruffianwho had put his garter round her neckand was endeavouringto drawher up to a tree. Jones asked no questions at this intervalbut fellinstantly upon the villainand made such good use of histrustyoaken stick that he laid him sprawling on the ground beforehe coulddefend himselfindeed almost before he knew he was attacked;nor did hecease the prosecution of his blows till the woman herselfbegged himto forbearsayingshe believed he had sufficiently donehisbusiness.

  Thepoor wretch then fell upon her knees to Jonesand gave him athousandthanks for her deliverance. He presently lifted her upandtold herhe was highly pleased with the extraordinary accident whichhad senthim thither for her reliefwhere it was so improbable sheshouldfind any; addingthat Heaven seemed to have designed him asthe happyinstrument of her protection. "Nay" answered she"Icouldalmost conceive you to be some good angel; andto say thetruthyoulook more like an angel than a man in my eye." Indeed hewas acharming figure; and if a very fine personand a most comelyset offeaturesadorned with youthhealthstrengthfreshnessspiritand good-naturecan make a man resemble an angelhecertainlyhad that resemblance.

  Theredeemed captive had not altogether so much of the human-angelicspecies:she seemed to be at least of the middle agenor had her facemuchappearance of beauty; but her cloaths being torn from all theupper partof her bodyher breastswhich were well formed andextremelywhiteattracted the eyes of her delivererand for a fewmomentsthey stood silentand gazing at each other; till theruffian onthe ground beginning to moveJones took the garter whichhad beenintended for another purposeand bound both his hands behindhim. Andnowon contemplating his facehe discoveredgreatly to hissurprizeand perhaps not a little to his satisfactionthis veryperson tobe no other than ensign Northerton. Nor had the ensignforgottenhis former antagonistwhom he knew the moment he came tohimself.His surprize was equal to that of Jones; but I conceive hispleasurewas rather less on this occasion.

 Jones helped Northerton upon his legsand then looking himstedfastlyin the face"I fancysir" said he"you did notexpectto meet meany more in this worldand I confess I had as littleexpectationto find you here. HoweverfortuneI seehath brought usonce moretogetherand hath given me satisfaction for the injury Ihavereceivedeven without my own knowledge."

  "Itis very much like a man of honourindeed" answered Northerton"totake satisfaction by knocking a man down behind his back.Neither amI capable of giving you satisfaction hereas I have nosword; butif you dare behave like a gentlemanlet us go where Icanfurnish myself with oneand I will do by you as a man of honourought."

 "Doth it become such a villain as you are" cries Jones"tocontaminatethe name of honour by assuming it? But I shall waste notime indiscourse with you. justice requires satisfaction of younowandshall have it." Then turning to the womanhe asked herifshe wasnear her home; or if notwhether she was acquainted withany housein the neighbourhoodwhere she might procure herself somedecentcloathsin order to proceed to a justice of the peace.

  Sheanswered she was an entire stranger in that part of the world.Jones thenrecollecting himselfsaidhe had a friend near whowoulddirect them; indeedhe wondered at his not following; butinfactthegood Man of the Hillwhen our heroe departedsat himselfdown onthe browwherethough he had a gun in his handhe withgreatpatience and unconcern had attended the issue.

 Jones then stepping without the woodperceived the old mansitting aswe have just described him; he presently exerted his utmostagilityand with surprizing expedition ascended the hill.

  Theold man advised him to carry the woman to Uptonwhichhe saidwas thenearest townand there he would be sure of furnishing herwith allmanner of conveniences. Jones having received his directionto theplacetook his leave of the Man of the Hillanddesiring himto directPartridge the same wayreturned hastily to the wood.

  Ourheroeat his departure to make this enquiry of his friendhadconsideredthat as the ruffian's hands were tied behind himhewasincapable of executing any wicked purposes on the poor woman.Besideshe knew he should not be beyond the reach of her voiceandcouldreturn soon enough to prevent any mischief. He had moreoverdeclaredto the villainthat if he attempted the least insulthewould behimself immediately the executioner of vengeance on him.But Jonesunluckily forgotthat though the hands of Northerton weretiedhislegs were at liberty; nor did he lay the least injunction ontheprisoner that he should not make what use of these he pleased.Northertonthereforehaving given no parole of that kindthoughthe mightwithout any breach of honour depart; not being obligedas heimaginedby any rulesto wait for a formal discharge. He thereforetook uphis legswhich were at libertyand walked off through thewoodwhich favoured his retreat; nor did the womanwhose eyes wereperhapsrather turned toward her delivereronce think of hisescapeorgive herself any concern or trouble to prevent it.

 Jones thereforeat his returnfound the woman alone. He would havespent sometime in searching for Northertonbut she would notpermithim; earnestly entreating that he would accompany her to thetownwhither they had been directed. "As to the fellow's escape"saidshe"itgives me no uneasiness; for philosophy and Christianitybothpreach up forgiveness of injuries. But for yousirI amconcernedat the trouble I give you; nayindeedmy nakedness maywell makeme ashamed to look you in the face; and if it was not forthe sakeof your protectionI should wish to go alone."

 Jones offered her his coat; butI know not for what reasonsheabsolutelyrefused the most earnest solicitations to accept it. Hethenbegged her to forget both the causes of her confusion. "Withregard tothe former" says he"I have done no more than my duty inprotectingyou; and as for the latterI will entirely remove itbywalkingbefore you all the way; for I would not have my eyes offendyouand Icould not answer for my power of resisting the attractivecharms ofso much beauty."

 Thus our heroe and the redeemed lady walked in the same manner asOrpheusand Eurydice marched heretofore; but though I cannot believethat Joneswas designedly tempted by his fair one to look behindhimyetas she frequently wanted his assistance help her over stilesand hadbesides many trips and other accidentshe was often obligedto turnabout. Howeverhe had better fortune than what attendedpoorOrpheusfor he brought his companionor rather followersafeinto thefamous town of Upton.

Chapter3
Thearrival of Mr. Jones with his lady at inn; with a very fulldescriptionof the battle of Upton

 Though the readerwe doubt notis very eager to know who this ladywasandhow she fell into the hands of Mr. Northertonwe must beghim tosuspend his curiosity for a short timeas we are obligedfor somevery good reasons which hereafter perhaps he may guesstodelay hissatisfaction a little longer.

  Mr.Jones and his fair companion no sooner entered the townthanthey wentdirectly to that inn which in their eyes presented thefairestappearance to the street. Here Joneshaving ordered a servantto show aroom above stairswas ascendingwhen the dishevelled fairhastilyfollowingwas laid hold on by the master of the housewhocried"Heydaywhere is that beggar wench going? Stay below stairsdesireyou." But Jones at that instant thundered from above"Letthe ladycome up" in so authoritative a voicethat the good maninstantlywithdrew his handsand the lady made best of her way to thechamber.

 Here Jones wished her joy of her safe arrivaland then departedinorderashe promisedto send the landlady up with some cloaths.The poorwoman thanked him heartily for his kindnessand saidshehoped sheshould see him again soonto thank him a thousand timesmore.During this short conversationshe covered her white bosom aswell asshe could possibly with her arms; for Jones could not avoidstealing asly peep or twothough he took all imaginable care toavoidgiving any offence.

  Ourtravellers had happened to take up their residence at a house ofexceedinggood reputewhither Irish ladies of strict virtueand manynorthernlasses of the same predicamentwere accustomed to resortin theirway to Bath. The landlady therefore would by no means haveadmittedany conversation of a disreputable kind to pass under herroof.Indeedso foul and contagious are all such proceedingsthattheycontaminate the very innocent scenes where they are committedand givethe name of a bad houseor a house of ill reputeto allthosewhere they are suffered to be carried on.

  Notthat I would intimate that such strict chastity as was preservedin thetemple of Vesta can possibly be maintained at a public inn.My goodlandlady did not hope for such a blessingnor would any ofthe ladiesI have spoken ofor indeed any others of the most rigidnotehaveexpected or insisted on any such thing. But to excludeall vulgarconcubinageand to drive all whores in rags from withinthe wallsis within the power of every one. This my landlady verystrictlyadherred toand this her virtuous guestswho did not travelin ragswould very reasonably have expected of her.

  Nowit required no very blameable degree of suspicion to imaginethat Mr.Jones and his ragged companion had certain purposes intheirintentionwhichthough tolerated in some Christiancountriesconnived at in othersand practised in allare however asexpresslyforbidden as murderor any other horrid viceby thatreligionwhich is universally believed in those countries. Thelandladythereforehad no sooner received an intimation of theentranceof the above-said persons than she began to meditate the mostexpeditiousmeans for their expulsion. In order to thisshe hadprovidedherself with a long and deadly instrumentwith whichintimes ofpeacethe chambermaid was wont to demolish the labours oftheindustrious spider. In vulgar phraseshe had taken up thebroomstickand was just about to sally from the kitchenwhen Jonesaccostedher with a demand of a gown and other vestmentsto cover thehalf-nakedwoman upstairs.

 Nothing can be more provoking to the human tempernor moredangerousto that cardinal virtuepatiencethan solicitations ofextraordinaryoffices of kindness on behalf of those very persons withwhom weare highly incensed. For this reason Shakespear hathartfullyintroduced his Desdemona soliciting favours for Cassio of herhusbandas the means of inflamingnot only his jealousybut hisragetothe highest pitch of madness; and we find the unfortunateMoor lessable to command his passion on this occasionthan even whenhe beheldhis valued present to his wife in the hands of hissupposedrival. In factwe regard these efforts as insults on ourunderstandingand to such the pride of man is very difficultlybrought tosubmit.

  Mylandladythough a very good-tempered womanhadI supposesomeof thispride in her compositionfor Jones had scarce ended hisrequestwhen she fell upon him with a certain weaponwhichthoughit beneither longnor sharpnor hardnor indeed threatens from itsappearancewith either death or woundhath been however held in greatdread andabhorrence by many wise men- nayby many brave ones;insomuchthat some who have dared to look into the mouth of aloadedcannonhave not dared to look into a mouth where this weaponwasbrandished; and rather than run the hazard of its executionhavecontented themselves with making a most pitiful and sneakingfigure inthe eyes of all their acquaintance.

  Toconfess the truthI am afraid Mr. Jones was one of these; forthough hewas attacked and violently belaboured with the aforesaidweaponhecould not be provoked to make any resistance; but in a mostcowardlymanner appliedwith many entreatiesto his antagonist todesistfrom pursuing her blows; in plain Englishhe only begged herwith theutmost earnestness to hear him; but before he could obtainhisrequestmy landlord himself entered into the frayand embracedthat sideof the cause which seemed to stand very little in need ofassistance.

 There are a sort of heroes who are supposed to be determined intheirchusing or avoiding a conflict by the character and behaviour ofthe personwhom they are to engage. These are said to know theirmenandJonesI believeknew his woman; for though he had been sosubmissiveto herhe was no sooner attacked by her husbandthan hedemonstratedan immediate spirit of resentmentand enjoined himsilenceunder a very severe penalty; no less than thatI thinkofbeingconverted into fuel for his own fire.

  Thehusbandwith great indignationbut with a mixture of pityanswered"You must pray first to be made able. I believe I am abetter manthan yourself; ayevery waythat I am;" and presentlyproceededto discharge half-a-dozen whores at the lady above stairsthe lastof which had scarce issued from his lipswhen a swingingblow fromthe cudgel that Jones carried in his hand assulted himover theshoulders.

  Itis a question whether the landlord or the landlady was the mostexpeditiousin returning this blow. My landlordwhose hands wereemptyfell to with his fistand the good wifeuplifting her broomand aimingat the head of Joneshad probably put an immediate endto thefrayand to Jones likewisehad not the descent of thisbroom beenprevented- not by the miraculous intervention of anyheathendeitybut by a very natural though fortunate accidentviz.by thearrival of Partridge; who entered the house at that instant(for fearhad caused him to run every step from the hill)and whoseeing thedanger which threatened his master or companion (whichyou chuseto call him)prevented so sad a catastropheby catchinghold ofthe landlady's armas it was brandished aloft in the air.

  Thelandlady soon perceived the impediment which prevented her blow;and beingunable to rescue her arm from the hands of Partridgeshelet fallthe broom; and then leaving Jones to the discipline of herhusbandshe fell with the utmost fury on that poor fellowwho hadalreadygiven some intimation of himselfby crying"Zounds! do youintend tokill my friend?"

 Partridgethough not much addicted to battlewould not howeverstandstill when his friend was attacked; nor was he much displeasedwith thatpart of the combat which fell to his share; he thereforereturnedmy landlady's blows as soon as he received them: and nowthe fightwas obstinately maintained on all partsand it seemeddoubtfulto which side Fortune would inclinewhen the naked ladywhohadlistened at the top of the stairs to the dialogue which precededtheengagementdescended suddenly from aboveand without weighingthe unfairinequality of two to onefell upon the poor woman whowas boxingwith Partridge; nor did that great champion desistbutratherredoubled his furywhen he found fresh succours were arrivedto hisassistance.

 Victory must now have fallen to the side of the travellers (forthebravest troops must yield to numbers) had not Susan thechambermaidcome luckily to support her mistress. This Susan was astwo-handeda wench (according to the phrase) as any in the countryand wouldI believehave beat the famed Thalestris herselfor anyof hersubject Amazons; for her form was robust and man-likeandevery waymade for such encounters. As her hands and arms wereformed togive blows with great mischief to an enemyso was herface aswell contrived to receive blows without any great injury toherselfher nose being already flat to her face; her lips were solargethat no swelling could be perceived in themand moreoverthey wereso hardthat a fist could hardly make any impression onthem.Lastlyher cheekbones stood outas if nature had intended themfor twobastions to defend her eyes in those encounters for whichshe seemedso well calculatedand to which she was most wonderfullywellinclined.

 This fair creature entering the field of battleimmediately filedto thatwing where her mistress maintained so unequal a fight with oneof eithersex. Here she presently challenged Partridge to singlecombat. Heaccepted the challengeand a most desperate fight beganbeganbetween them.

  Nowthe dogs of war being let loosebegan to lick their bloodylips; nowVictorywith golden wingshung hovering in the air; nowFortunetaking her scales from her shelfbegan to weigh the fates ofTom Joneshis female companionand Partridgeagainst thelandlordhis wifeand maid; all which hung in exact balance beforeher; whena good-natured accident put suddenly an end to the bloodyfraywithwhich half of the combatants had already sufficientlyfeasted.This accident was the arrival of a coach and four; upon whichmylandlord and landlady immediately desisted from fightingand attheirentreaty obtained the same favour of their antagonists; butSusan wasnot so kind to Partridge; for that Amazonian fair havingoverthrownand bestrid her enemywas now cuffing him lustily withboth herhandswithout any regard to his request of a cessation ofarmsorto those loud exclamations of murder which he roared forth.

  Nosoonerhoweverhad Jones quitted the landlordthan he flewto therescue of his defeated companionfrom whom he with muchdifficultydrew off the enraged chambermaid: but Partridge was notimmediatelysensible of his deliverancefor he still lay flat onthe floorguarding his face with his hands; nor did he ceaseroaringtill Jones had forced him to look upand to perceive that thebattle wasat an end.

  Thelandlordwho had no visible hurtand the landladyhidingherwell-scratched face with her handkerchiefran both hastily to thedoor toattend the coachfrom which a young lady and her maid nowalighted.These the landlady presently ushered into that room whereMr. Joneshad at first deposited his fair prizeas it was the bestapartmentin the house. Hither they were obliged to pass through thefield ofbattlewhich they did with the utmost hastecoveringtheirfaces with their handkerchiefsas desirous to avoid thenotice ofany one. Indeed their caution was quite unnecessary; for thepoorunfortunate Helenthe fatal cause of all the bloodshedwasentirelytaken up in endeavouring to conceal her own faceand Joneswas noless occupied in rescuing Partridge from the fury of Susan;whichbeing happily effectedthe poor fellow immediately departedto thepump to wash his faceand to stop that bloody torrent whichSusan hadplentifully set a-flowing from his nostrils.

Chapter4
In whichthe arrival of a man of war puts a final end tohostilitiesand causes the conclusion of a firm and lasting peacebetweenall parties

  Aserjeant and a file of musqueteerswith a deserter in theircustodyarrived about this time. The serjeant presently enquiredfor theprincipal magistrate of the townand was informed by mylandlordthat he himself was vested in that office. He thendemandedhis billetstogether with a mug of beerand complainingit wascoldspread himself before the kitchen fire.

  Mr.Jones was at this time comforting the poor distressed ladywho satdown at a table in the kitchenand leaning her head uponher armwas bemoaning her misfortunes; but lest my fair readersshould bein pain concerning a particular circumstanceI think properhere toacquaint themthat before she had quitted the room abovestairsshe had so well covered herself with a pillowbeer which shetherefoundthat her regard to decency was not in the leastviolatedby the presence of so many men as were now in the room.

  Oneof the soldiers now went up to the serjeantand whisperedsomethingin his ear; upon which he stedfastly fixed his eyes on theladyandhaving looked at her for near a minutehe came up to hersaying"Iask pardonmadam; but I am certain I am not deceived;you can beno other person than Captain Waters's lady?"

  Thepoor womanwho in her present distress had very little regardedthe faceof any person presentno sooner looked at the serjeantthan shepresently recollected himand calling him by his nameanswered"That she was indeed the unhappy person he imagined her tobe;"but added"I wonder any one should know me in this disguise."Towhich theserjeant replied"He was very much surprized to see herladyshipin such a dressand was afraid some accident had happened toher."

"An accident hath happened to meindeed" says she"andI amhighlyobliged to this gentleman" (Pointing to Jones) "that it wasnota fataloneor that I am now living to mention it."

"Whatever thegentlemanhath done" cries the serjeant"I am sure the captainwill makehim amends for it; and if I can be of any serviceyourladyshipmay command meand I shall think myself very happy to haveit in mypower to serve your ladyship; and so indeed may any onefor I knowthe captain will well reward them for it."

  Thelandladywho heard from the stairs all that past between theserjeantand Mrs. Waterscame hastily downand running directly upto herbegan to ask pardon for the offences she had committedbeggingthat all might be imputed to ignorance of her quality: for"Lud!madam" says she"how should I have imagined that a ladyofyourfashion would appear in such a dress? I am suremadamif Ihad oncesuspected that your ladyship was your ladyshipI wouldsoonerhave burnt my tongue outthan have said what I have said;and I hopeyour ladyship will accept of a gowntill you can getyour owncloaths."

 "Pritheewoman" says Mrs. Waters"cease yourimpertinence: howcan youimagine I should concern myself about anything which comesfrom thelips of such low creatures as yourself? But I am surprized atyourassurance in thinkingafter what is pastthat I will condescendto put onany of your dirty things. I would have you knowcreatureIhave aspirit above that."

 Here Jones interferedand begged Mrs. Waters to forgive thelandladyand to accept her gown: "for I must confess" cries he"ourappearancewas a little suspicious when first we came in; and I amwellassured all this good woman did wasas she professedout ofregard tothe reputation of her house."

 "Yesupon my truly was it" says she: "the gentlemanspeaks verymuch likea gentlemanand I see very plainly is so; and to be certainthe houseis well known to be a house of as good reputation as anyon theroadand though I say itis frequented by gentry of thebestqualityboth Irish and English. I defy anybody to say black ismy eyefor that matter. Andas I was sayingif I had known yourladyshipto be your ladyshipI would as soon have burnt my fingers ashaveaffronted your ladyship; but truly where gentry come and spendtheirmoneyI am not willing that they should be scandalized by a setof poorshabby verminthatwherever they goleave more lice thanmoneybehind them; such folks never raise my compassionfor to becertain itis foolish to have any for them; and if our justices did astheyoughtthey would be all whipt out of the kingdomfor to becertain itis what is most fitting for them. But as for your ladyshipI amheartily sorry your ladyship hath had a misfortuneand if yourladyshipwill do me the honour to wear my cloaths till you can getsome ofyour ladyship's ownto be certain the best I have is atyourladyship's service."

 Whether coldshameor the persuasions of Mr. Jones prevailedmost onMrs. WatersI will not determinebut she suffered herself tobepacified by this speech of my landladyand retired with thatgoodwomanin order to apparel herself in a decent manner.

  Mylandlord was likewise beginning his oration to Jonesbut waspresentlyinterrupted by that generous youthwho shook him heartilyby thehandand assured him of entire forgivenesssaying"If youaresatisfiedmy worthy friendI promise you I am;" and indeedinone sensethe landlord had the better reason to be satisfied; forhe hadreceived a bellyfull of drubbing whereas Jones had scarcefelt asingle blow.

 Partridgewho had been all this time washing his bloody nose at thepumpreturned into the kitchen at the instant when his master and thelandlordwere shaking hands with each other. As he was of apeaceabledispositionhe was pleased with those symptoms ofreconciliation;and though his face bore some marks of Susan's fistand manymore of her nailshe rather chose to be contented with hisfortune inthe last battle than to endeavour at bettering it inanother.

  Theheroic Susan was likewise well contented with her victorythough ithad cost her a black eyewhich Partridge had given her atthe firstonset. Between these twothereforea league was struckand thosehands which had been the instruments of war became now themediatorsof peace.

 Matters were thus restored to a perfect calm; at which the serjeantthough itmay seem so contrary to the principles of his professiontestifiedhis approbation. "Why nowthat's friendly" said he; "d--nmeI hateto see two people bear ill-will to one another after theyhave had atussel. The only way when friends quarrel is to see itout fairlyin a friendly manneras a man may call iteither with afistorswordor pistolaccording as they likeand then let itbe allover; for my own partd--n me if ever I love my friend betterthan whenI am fighting with him! To bear malice is more like aFrenchmanthan an Englishman."

  Hethen proposed a libation as a necessary part of the ceremony atalltreaties of this kind. Perhaps the reader may here conclude thathe waswell versed in antient history; but thisthough highlyprobableas he cited no authority to support the customI will notaffirmwith any confidence. Most likely indeed it isthat hefoundedhis opinion on very good authoritysince he confirmed it withmanyviolent oaths.

 Jones no sooner heard the proposal thanimmediately agreeing withthelearned serjeanthe ordered a bowlor rather a large mugfilledwith theliquor used on these occasionsto be brought inand thenbegan theceremony himself. He placed his right hand in that of thelandlordandseizing the bowl with his leftuttered the usualwordsandthen made his libation. After whichthe same wasobservedby present. Indeedthere is very little need of beingparticularin describing the whole formas it differed so little fromthoselibations of which so much is recorded in antient authors andtheirmodern transcribers. The principal difference lay in twoinstances;forfirstthe present company poured the liquor only downtheirthroats; andsecondlythe serjeantwho officiated aspriestdrank the last; but he preservedI believethe antient forminswallowing much the largest draught of the whole companyand inbeing theonly person present who contributed nothing towards thelibationbesides his good offices in assisting at the performance.

  Thegood people now ranged themselves round the kitchen firewhere goodhumour seemed to maintain an absolute dominion; andPartridgenot only forgot his shameful defeatbut converted hungerintothirstand soon became extremely facetious. We must however quitthisagreeable assembly for a whileand attend Mr. Jones to Mrs.Waters'sapartmentwhere the dinner which he had bespoke was now onthe table.Indeedit took no long time in preparinghaving beenall drestthree days beforeand required nothing more from the cookthan towarm it over again.

Chapter5
An apologyfor all heroes who have good stomachswith a descriptionof abattle of the amorous kind

 Heroesnotwithstanding the high ideas whichby the means offlatterersthey may entertain of themselvesor the world mayconceiveof themhave certainly more of mortal than divine aboutthem.However elevated their minds may betheir bodies at least(which ismuch the major part of most) are liable to the worstinfirmitiesand subject to the vilest offices of human nature.Amongthese latterthe act of eatingwhich hath by several wisemen beenconsidered as extremely mean and derogatory from thephilosophicdignitymust be in some measure performed by the greatestprinceheroeor philosopher upon earth; naysometimes Nature hathbeen sofrolicsome as to exact of these dignified characters a muchmoreexorbitant share of this office than she hath obliged those ofthe lowestorder to perform.

  Tosay the truthas no known inhabitant of this globe is reallymore thanmanso none need be ashamed of submitting to what thenecessitiesof man demand; but when those great personages I have justmentionedcondescend to aim at confining such low offices tothemselves-as whenby hoarding or destroyingthey seem desirous topreventany others from eating- then they surely become very low anddespicable.

 Nowafter this short prefacewe think it no disparagement to ourheroe tomention the immoderate ardour with which he laid about him atthisseason. Indeedit may be doubted whether Ulysseswho by the wayseems tohave had the best stomach of all the heroes in that eatingpoem ofthe Odysseyever made a better meal. Three pounds at least ofthat fleshwhich formerly had contributed to the composition of anox was nowhonoured with becoming part of the individual Mr. Jones.

 This particular we thought ourselves obliged to mentionas it mayaccountfor our heroe's temporary neglect of his fair companionwhoeat butvery littleand was indeed employed in considerations of averydifferent naturewhich passed unobserved by Jonestill he hadentirelysatisfied that appetite which a fast of twenty-four hours hadprocuredhim; but his dinner was no sooner ended than his attention toothermatters revived; with these matters therefore we shall proceedtoacquaint the reader.

  Mr.Jonesof whose personal accomplishments we have hitherto saidverylittlewasin realityone of the handsomest young fellows inthe world.His facebesides being the picture of healthhad in itthe mostapparent marks of sweetness and good-nature. Thesequalitieswere indeed so characteristical in his countenancethatwhile thespirit and sensibility in his eyesthough they must havebeenperceived by an accurate observermight have escaped thenotice ofthe less discerningso strongly was this good-naturepainted inhis lookthat it was remarked by almost every one whosaw him.

  Itwasperhapsas much owing to this as to a very finecomplexionthat his face had a delicacy in it almost inexpressibleand whichmight have given him an air rather too effeminatehad itnot beenjoined to a most masculine person and mien: which latterhad asmuch in them of the Hercules as the former had of the Adonis.He wasbesides activegenteelgayand good-humoured; and had a flowof animalspirits which enlivened every conversation where he waspresent.

 When the reader hath duly reflected on these many charms which allcenteredin our heroeand considers at the same time the freshobligationswhich Mrs. Waters had to himit will be a mark more ofpruderythan candour to entertain a bad opinion of her because sheconceiveda very good opinion of him.

 Butwhatever censures may be passed upon herit is my businessto relatematters of fact with veracity. Mrs. Waters hadin truthnot only agood opinion of our heroebut a very great affection forhim. Tospeak out boldly at onceshe was in loveaccording to thepresentuniversally-received sense of that phraseby which love isappliedindiscriminately to the desirable objects of all our passionsappetitesand sensesand is understood to be that preference whichwe give toone kind of food rather than to another.

  Butthough the love to these several objects may possibly be one andthe samein all casesits operations however must be allowed to bedifferent;forhow much soever we may be in love with an excellentsurloin ofbeefor bottle of Burgundy; with a damask roseor Cremonafiddle;yet do we never similenor oglenor dressnor flatternorendeavour by any other arts or tricks to gain the affection of thesaid beef&c. Sigh indeed we sometimes may; but it is generally intheabsencenot in the presenceof the beloved object. For otherwisewe mightpossibly complain of their ingratitude and deafnesswith thesamereason as Pasiphae doth of her bullwhom she endeavoured toengage byall the coquetry practised with good success in thedrawingroom on the much more sensible as well as tender hearts of thefinegentlemen there.

  Thecontrary happens in that love which operates between personsof thesame speciesbut of different sexes. Here we are no soonerin lovethan it becomes our principal care to engage the affectionof theobject beloved. For what other purpose indeed are our youthinstructedin all the arts of rendering themselves agreeable? If itwas notwith a view to this loveI question whether any of thosetradeswhich deal in setting off and adorning the human person wouldprocure alivelihood. Naythose great polishers of our mannerswhoare bysome thought to teach what principally distinguishes us fromthe brutecreationeven dancing-masters themselvesmight possiblyfind noplace in society. In shortall the graces which youngladies andyoung gentlemen too learn from othersand the manyimprovementswhichby the help of a looking-glassthey add oftheir ownare in reality those very spicula et faces amoris so ofmentionedby Ovid; oras they are sometimes called in our ownlanguagethe whole artillery of love.

  NowMrs. Waters and our heroe had no sooner sat down together thanthe formerbegan to play this artillery upon the latter. But hereas we areabout to attempt a description hitherto unassayed eitherin proseor versewe think proper to invoke the assistance of certainaerialbeingswho willwe doubt notcome kindly to our aid onthisoccasion.

 "Say thenye Graces! you that inhabit the heavenly mansions ofSeraphina'scountenance; for you are truly divineare always in herpresenceand well know all the arts of charming; saywhat were theweaponsnow used to captivate the heart of Mr. Jones."

 "Firstfrom two lovely blue eyeswhose bright orbs flashedlightningat their dischargeflew forth two pointed ogles; buthappilyfor our heroehit only a vast piece of beef which he was thenconveyinginto his plateand harmless spent their force. The fairwarriorperceived their miscarriageand immediately from her fairbosom drewforth a deadly sigh. A sigh which none could have heardunmovedand which was sufficient at once to have swept off a dozenbeaus; sosoftso sweetso tenderthat the insinuating air musthave foundits subtle way to the heart of our heroehad it notluckilybeen driven from his ears by the coarse bubbling of somebottledalewhich at that time he was pouring forth. Many otherweaponsdid she assay; but the god of eating (if there be any suchdeityforI do not confidently assert it) preserved his votary; orperhaps itmay not be dignus vindice nodusand the present securityof Jonesmay be accounted for by natural means; for as love frequentlypreservesfrom the attacks of hungerso may hunger possiblyinsomecasesdefend us against love.

 "The fair oneenraged at her frequent disappointmentsdeterminedon a shortcessation of arms. Which interval she employed in makingreadyevery engine of amorous warfare for the renewing of the attackwhendinner should be over.

  "Nosooner then was the cloth removed than she again began heroperations.Firsthaving planted her right eye sidewise against Mr.Jonessheshot from its corner a most penetrating glance; whichthoughgreat part of its force was spent before it reached ourheroedidnot vent itself absolutely without effect. This the faironeperceivinghastily withdrew her eyesand levelled themdownwardsas if she was concerned for what she had done; though bythis meansshe designed only to draw him from his guardand indeed toopen hiseyesthrough which she intended to surprise his heart. Andnowgently lifting up those two bright orbs which had already begunto make animpression on poor Jonesshe discharged a volley ofsmallcharms at once from her whole countenance in a smile. Not asmile ofmirthnor of joy; but a smile of affectionwhich mostladieshave always ready at their commandand which serves them toshow atonce their good-humourtheir pretty dimplesand theirwhiteteeth.

 "This smile our heroe received full in his eyesand wasimmediatelystaggeredwith its force. He then began to see the designs of theenemyandindeed to feel their success. A parley now was set onfootbetween the parties; during which the artful fair so slily andimperceptiblycarried on her attackthat she had almost subdued theheart ofour heroe before she again repaired to acts of hostility.To confessthe truthI am afraid Mr. Jones maintained a kind of Dutchdefenceand treacherously delivered up the garrisonwithout dulyweighinghis allegiance to the fair Sophia. In shortno sooner hadtheamorous parley ended and the lady had unmasked the royalbatteryby carelessly letting her handkerchief drop from her neckthan theheart of Mr. Jones was entirely takenand the fair conquererenjoyedthe usual fruits of her victory."

 Here the Graces think proper to end their descriptionand here wethinkproper to end the chapter.

Chapter6
A friendlyconversation in the kitchenwhich had a very commonthough notvery friendlyconclusion

 While our lovers were entertaining themselves in the manner which ispartlydescribed in the foregoing chapterthey were likewisefurnishingout an entertainment for their good friends in the kitchen.And thisin a double senseby affording them matter for theirconversationandat the same timedrink to enliven their spirits.

 There were now assembled round the kitchen firebesides my landlordandlandladywho occasionally went backward and forwardMr.Partridgethe serjeantand the coachman who drove the young lady andher maid.

 Partridge having acquainted the company with what he had learnt fromthe Man ofthe Hill concerning the situation in which Mrs. Watershad beenfound by Jonesthe serjeant proceeded to that part of herhistorywhich was known to him. He said she was the wife of Mr.Waterswho was a captain in their regimentand had often been withhim atquarters. "Some folks" says he"used indeed to doubtwhetherthey were lawfully married in a church or no. But for my partthat's nobusiness of mine; I must ownif I was put to my corporaloathIbelieve she is little better than one of us; and I fancy thecaptainmay go to heaven when the sun shines upon a rainy day. Butif hedoesthat is neither here nor there; for he won't want company.And theladyto give the devil his dueis a very good sort ofladyandloves the clothand is always desirous to do strict justiceto it; forshe hath begged off many a poor soldierandby hergood-willwould never have any of them punished. But yetto be sureEnsignNortherton and she were very well acquainted together at ourlastquarters; that is the very right and truth of the matter. But thecaptain heknows nothing about it; and as long as there is enoughfor himtoowhat does it signify? He loves her not a bit the worseand I amcertain would any man through the body that was to abuse her;thereforeI won't abuse herfor my part. I only repeat what otherfolks say;and to be certainwhat everybody saysthere must besome truthin."

"Ayaya great deal of truthI warrant you"criesPartridge; "Veritas odium parit."

"All a parcel of scandalousansweredthe mistress of the house. "I am surenow she is drestshe lookslike a very good sort of ladyand she behaves herselflike one;she gave me a guinea for the use of my cloaths."

"A verygood ladyindeed!" cries the "and if you had not been a littlehastyyouwould not have quarrelled with her as you did atfirst."

"You need mention that with my truly!" answered she: "ifithad notbeen for your nonsensenothing had You must be meddlingwith whatdid not belong to youand throw in your fool'sdiscourse."

"Wellwell" answered he; past cannot be mendedsothere's anend of the matter."

"Yes" cries she"for thisbut will itbe mendedever the more hereafter? This is not the first time I havesufferedfor your numscull's pate. I wish you would always hold yourtongue inthe houseand meddle only in matters without doorswhichconcernyou. Don't you remember what happened about seven yearsago?"

"Naymy dear" returned he"don't rip up oldstories. Comecomeall's welland I am sorry for what I done." The landlady wasgoing toreplywas prevented by the peace-making sorely to thedispleasureof Partridgewho was a great lover of what is called funand agreat promoter of those harmless quarrels which tend rather totheproduction of comical than tragical incidents.

  Theserjeant asked Partridge whither he and his master weretravelling?"None of your magisters" answered Partridge; "I am noman'sservantI assure you; forthough I have misfortunes in theworldIwrite gentleman after my name; andas poor and simple Imay appearnowI have taught grammar-school in my time; sed heimihi!nonsum quod fui."

"No offenceI hopesir" said the serjeant;"wherethenif I may venture to be so boldmay you and yourfriend betravelling?"

"You have now denominated us right"saysPartridge."Amicis sumus. And I promise you my friend is one of thegreatestgentlemen in the kingdom" (at which words both landlord andlandladypricked up their ears). "He is the heir of SquireAllworthy."

"Whatthe squire who doth so much good all over thecountry?"cries my landlady. "Even he" answered Partridge.

"ThenIwarrant"says she"he'll have a swinging great estate hereafter."

"Mostcertainly" answered Partridge.

"Well" replied thelandlady"Ithought the first moment I saw him he looked like a good sort ofgentleman;but my husband hereto be sureis wiser than anybody."

"Iownmy dear" cries he"it was a mistake."

"Amistakeindeed!"answeredshe; "but when did you ever know me to make such mistakes?"

"Buthow comes itsir" cries the landlord"that such a greatgentlemanwalks about the country afoot?"

"I don't know"returnedPartridge;"great gentlemen have humours sometimes. He hath now adozenhorses and servants at Gloucester; and nothing would serve himbut lastnightit being very hot wheatherhe must cool himself witha walk toyon high hillwhither I likewise walked with him to bearhimcompany; but if ever you catch me there again: for I was never sofrightenedin all my life. We met with the strangest man there."

"I'llbe hanged" cries the landlord"if it was not the Man oftheHillasthey call him; if indeed he be a man; but I know severalpeople whobelieve it is the devil that lives there."

"Naynaylikeenough"says Partridge; "and now you put me in the head of itIverily andsincerely believe it was the devilthough I could notperceivehis cloven foot: but perhaps he might have the power givenhim tohide thatsince evil spirits can appear in what shape theyplease."

"And praysir" says the serjeant"no offenceIhope; butpray whatsort of a gentleman is the devil? For I have heard some ofourofficers say there is no such person; and that it is only a trickof theparsonsto prevent their being broke; forif it was publicklyknown thatthere was no devilthe parsons would be of no more usethan weare in time of peace."

"Those officers" saysPartridge"arevery greatscholarsI suppose."

"Not much of schollards neither"answeredthe serjeant; "they have not half your learningsirIbelieve;andto be sureI thought there must be a devilnotwithstandingwhat they saidthough one of them was a captain; formethoughtthinks I to myselfif there be no devilhow can wickedpeople besent to him? and I have read all that upon a book."

"Someof yourofficers" quoth the landlord"will find there is a deviltotheirshameI believe. I don't question but he'll pay off some oldscoresupon my account. Here was one quartered upon me half a yearwho hadthe conscience to take up one of my best bedsthough hehardlyspent a shilling a day in the houseand suffered his men toroastcabbages at the kitchen firebecause I would not give them adinner ona Sunday. Every good Christian must desire there should be adevil forthe punishment of such wretches."

"Harkeelandlord"saidtheserjeant"don't abuse the clothfor I won't take it."

"D--n thecloth!"answered the landlord"I have suffered enough by them."

"Bearwitnessgentlemen" says the serjeant"he curses thekingandthat'shigh treason."

"I curse the king! you villain" saidthelandlord."Yesyou did" cries the serjeant; "you cursed theclothand that'scursing the king. It's all one and the same; for every manwho cursesthe cloth would curse the king it he durst; so for mattero' thatit's all one and the same thing."

"Excuse me thereMr.Serjeant"quoth Partridge"that's a non sequitur."

"None ofyouroutlandish linguo" answered the serjeantleaping from hisseat;"Iwill not sit still and hear the cloth abused."

"Youmistake mefriend"cries Partridge. "I did not mean to abuse the cloth; I onlysaid yourconclusion was a non sequitur."

"Youare another" criestheserjeant"an you come to that. No more a sequitur thanyourself.You are apack of rascalsand I'll prove it; for I will fight thebest manof you all for twenty pound." This challenge effectuallysilencedPartridgewhose stomach for drubbing did not so soon returnafter thehearty meal which he had lately been treated with; but thecoachmanwhose bones were less soreand whose appetite for fightingwassomewhat sharperdid not so easily brook the affrontof which heconceivedsome part at least fell to his share. He started thereforefrom hisseatandadvancing to the serjeantswore he looked onhimself tobe as good a man as any in the armyand offered to box fora guinea.The military man accepted the combatbut refused the wager;upon whichboth immediately stript and engagedtill the driver ofhorses wasso well mauled by the leader of menthat he was obliged toexhausthis small remainder of breath in begging for quarter.

  Theyoung lady was now desirous to departand had given ordersfor hercoach to be prepared: but all in vainfor the coachman wasdisabledfrom performing his office for that evening. An antientheathenwould perhaps have imputed this disability to the god ofdrinknoless than to the god of war; forin realityboth thecombatantshad sacrificed as well to the former deity as to thelatter. Tospeak plainlythey were both dead drunknor was Partridgein a muchbetter situation. As for my landlorddrinking was histrade; andthe liquor had no more effect on him than it had on anyothervessel in his house.

  Themistress of the innbeing summoned to attend Mr. Jones andhiscompanion at their teagave a full relation of the latter part oftheforegoing scene; and at the same time expressed great concernfor theyoung lady"who" she said"was under the utmostuneasinessat being prevented from pursuing her journey. She is asweetpretty creature" added she"and I am certain I have seenher facebefore. I fancy she is in loveand running away from herfriends.Who knows but some young gentleman or other may beexpectingherwith a heart as heavy as her own?"

 Jones fetched a heavy sigh at those words; of whichthough Mrs.Watersobserved itshe took no notice while the landlady continued inthe room;butafter the departure of that good womanshe could notforbeargiving our heroe certain hints on her suspecting some verydangerousrival in his affections. The aukward behaviour of Mr.Jones onthis occasion convinced her of the truthwithout hisgiving hera direct answer to any of her questions; but she was notniceenough in her amours to be greatly concerned at the discovery.The beautyof Jones highly charmed her eye; but as she could not seehis heartshe gave herself no concern about it. She could feastheartilyat the table of lovewithout reflecting that some otheralreadyhad beenor hereafter might befeasted with the same repast.Asentiment whichif it deals but little in refinementdealshowevermuch in substance; and is less capriciousand perhaps lessill-naturedand selfishthan the desires of those females who canbecontented enough to abstain from the possession of their loversprovidedthey are sufficiently satisfied that no one else possessesthem.

Chapter7
Containinga fuller account of Mrs. Watersand by what means shecame intothat distressful situation from which she was rescued byJones

 Though Nature hath by no means mixed up an equal share either ofcuriosityor vanity in every human compositionthere is perhaps noindividualto whom she hath not allotted such a proportion of bothasrequires much artsand pains tooto subdue and keep under;- aconquesthoweverabsolutely necessary to every one who would inany degreedeserve the characters of wisdom or good breeding.

  AsJonesthereforemight very justly be called a well-bred manhehadstifled all that curiosity which the extraordinary manner in whichhe hadfound Mrs. Waters must be supposed to have occasioned. Hehadindeedat first thrown out some few hints to the lady; butwhenheperceived her industriously avoiding any explanationhe wascontentedto remain in ignorancethe rather as he was not withoutsuspicionthat there were some circumstances which must have raisedherblusheshad she related the whole truth.

  Nowsince it is possible that some of our readers may not soeasilyacquiesce under the same ignoranceand as we are very desirousto satisfythem allwe have taken uncommon pains to informourselvesof the real factwith the relation of which we shallconcludethis book.

 This ladythenhad lived some years with one Captain Waterswhowas acaptain in the same regiment to which Mr. Northerton belonged.She pastfor that gentleman's wifeand went by his name; and yetas theserjeant saidthere were some doubts concerning the reality oftheirmarriagewhich we shall not at present take upon us to resolve.

 Mrs. WatersI am sorry to say ithad for some time contracted anintimacywith the above-mentioned ensignwhich did no great credit toherreputation. That she had a remarkable fondness for that youngfellow ismost certain; but whether she indulged this to any verycriminallengths is not so extremely clearunless we will supposethat womennever grant every favour to a man but onewithout grantinghim thatone also.

  Thedivision of the regiment to which Captain Waters belonged hadtwo dayspreceded the march of that company to which Mr. Northertonwas theensign; so that the former had reached Worcester the veryday afterthe unfortunate re-encounter between Jones and Northertonwhich wehave before recorded.

 Nowit had been agreed between Mrs. Waters and the captain that shewouldaccompany him in his march as far as Worcesterwhere theywere totake their leave of each otherand she was thence to returnto Bathwhere she was to stay till the end of the winter's campaignagainstthe rebels.

 With this agreement Mr. Northerton was made acquainted. To say thetruththelady had made him an assignation at this very placeandpromisedto stay at Worcester till his division came thither; withwhat viewand for what purposemust be left to the reader'sdivination;forthough we are obliged to relate factsare notobliged todo a violence to our nature by any comments to thedisadvantageof the loveliest part of the creation.

 Northerton no sooner obtained a release from his captivityas wehave seenthan he hasted away to overtake Mrs. Waters; whichas hewas a veryactive nimble fellowhe did at the last-mentioned citysome fewhours after Captain Waters had left her. At his first arrivalhe made noscruple of acquainting her with the unfortunate accident;which hemade appear very unfortunate indeedfor he totally extractedeveryparticle of what could be called faultat least in a court ofhonourthough he left some circumstances which might bequestionablein a court of law.

 Womento their glory be it spokenare more generally capable ofthatviolent and apparently disinterested passion of lovewhich seeksonly thegood of its objectthan men. Mrs. Watersthereforewasno soonerapprized of the danger to which her lover was exposedthan shelost every consideration besides that of his safety; and thisbeing amatter equally agreeable to the gentlemanit became theimmediatesubject of debate between them.

 After much consultation on this matterit was at length agreed thatthe ensignshould go across the country to Herefordwhence he mightfind someconveyance to one of the seaports in Walesand thence mightmake hisescape abroad. In all which expedition Mrs. Waters declaredshe wouldbear him company; and for which was able to furnish him withmoneyavery material article to Mr. Northertonshe having then inher pocketthree banknotes to the amount of L90besides some cashand adiamond ring of pretty considerable value on her finger. Allwhich shewith the utmost confidencerevealed to this wicked manlittlesuspecting she should by these means inspire him with adesign ofrobbing her. Nowas they mustby taking horses fromWorcesterhave furnished any pursuers with the means of hereafterdiscoveringtheir routethe ensign proposedand the lady presentlyagreedtomake their first stage on foot; for which purpose thehardnessof the frost was very seasonable.

  Themain part of the lady's baggage was already at Bathand she hadnothingwith her at present besides a very small quantity of linenwhich thegallant undertook to carry in his own pockets. All thingsthereforebeing settled in the eveningthey arose early the nextmorningand at five o'clock departed from Worcesterit being thenabove twohours before daybut the moonwhich was then at thefullgavethem all the light she was capable of affording.

 Mrs. Waters was not of that delicate race of women who are obligedto theinvention of vehicles for the capacity of removing themselvesfrom oneplace to anotherand with whom consequently a coach isreckonedamong the necessaries of life. Her limbs were indeed fullofstrength and agilityandas her mind was no less animated withspiritshe was perfectly able to keep pace with her nimble lover.

 Having travelled on for some miles in a high roadwhichNorthertonsaid he was informed led to Herefordthey came at thebreak ofday to the side of a large woodwhere he suddenly stoppedandaffecting to meditate a moment with himselfexpressed someapprehensionsfrom travelling any longer in so public a way. Uponwhich heeasily persuaded his fair companion to strike with him into apath whichseemed to lead directly through the woodand which atlengthbrought them both to the bottom of Mazard Hill.

 Whether the execrable scheme which he now attempted to execute wasthe effectof previous deliberationor whether it now first came intohis headI cannot determine. But being arrived in this lonelyplacewhere it was very improbable he should meet with anyinterruptionhe suddenly slipped his garter from his legandlayingviolenthands on the poor womanendeavoured to perpetrate thatdreadfuland detestable fact which we have before commemoratedandwhich theprovidential appearance of Jones did so fortunately prevent.

 Happy was it for Mrs. Waters that she was not of the weakest orderoffemales; for no sooner did she perceiveby his tying a knot in hisgarterand by his declarationswhat his hellish intentions werethan shestood stoutly to her defenceand so strongly struggledwith herenemyscreaming all the while for assistancethat shedelayedthe execution of the villain's purpose several minutesbywhichmeans Mr. Jones came to her relief at that very instant when herstrengthfailed and she was totally overpoweredand delivered herfrom theruffian's handswith no other loss than that of her cloathswhich weretorn from her backand of the diamond ringwhich duringthecontention either dropped from her fingeror was wrenched from itbyNortherton.

 Thusreaderwe have given thee the fruits of a very painfulenquirywhich for thy satisfaction we have made into this matter.And herewe have opened to thee a scene of folly as well as villanywhich wecould scarce have believed a human creature capable ofbeingguilty ofhad we not remembered that this fellow was at thattimefirmly persuaded that he had already committed a murderandhadforfeited his life to the law. As he concluded therefore thathis onlysafety lay in flighthe thought the possessing himself ofthis poorwoman's money and ring would make him amends for theadditionalburthen he was to lay on his conscience.

  Andherereaderwe must strictly caution thee that thou dost nottake anyoccasionfrom the misbehaviour of such a wretch as thisto reflecton so worthy and honourable a body of men as are theofficersof our army in general. Thou wilt be pleased to consider thatthisfellowas we have already informed theehad neither the birthnoreducation of a gentlemannor was a proper person to be enrolledamong thenumber of such. Ifthereforehis baseness can justlyreflect onany besides himselfit must be only on those who gavehim hiscommission.

BOOK XIN WHICHTHE HISTORY GOES FORWARD ABOUT TWELVE HOURS

Chapter1
Containinginstructions very necessary to be perused by modernCritics

 Readerit is impossible we should know what sort of person thouwilt be;forperhapsthou may'st be as learned in human nature asShakespearhimself wasandperhapsthou may'st be no wiser thansome ofhis editors. Nowlest this latter should be the casewethinkproperbefore we go any farther togetherto give thee a fewwholesomeadmonitions; that thou may'st not as grossly misunderstandandmisrepresent usas some of the said editors have misunderstoodandmisrepresented their author.

 Firstthenwe warn thee not too hastily to condemn any of theincidentsin this our history as impertinent and foreign to our maindesignbecause thou dost not immediately conceive in what manner suchincidentmay conduce to that design. This work mayindeedbeconsideredas a great creation of our own; and for a little reptile ofa criticto presume to find fault with any of its partswithoutknowingthe manner in which the whole is connectedand before hecomes tothe final catastropheis a most presumptuous absurdity.Theallusion and metaphor we have here made use ofwe mustacknowledgeto be infinitely too great for our occasion; but there isindeednootherwhich is at all adequate to express the differencebetween anauthor of the first rate and a critic of the lowest.

 Another caution we would give theemy good reptileisthat thoudost notfind out too near a resemblance between certain charactershereintroduced; asfor instancebetween the landlady who appears intheseventh book and her in the ninth. Thou art to knowfriendthat thereare certain characteristics in which most individuals ofeveryprofession and occupation agree. To be able to preserve thesecharacteristicsand at the same time to diversify their operationsis onetalent of a good writer. Againto mark the nice distinctionbetweentwo persons actuated by the same vice or folly is another;andasthis last talent is found in very few writersso is thetruediscernment of it found in as few readers; thoughI believetheobservationof this forms a very principal pleasure in those who arecapable ofthe discovery; every personfor instancecandistinguishbetween Sir Epicure Mammon and Sir Fopling Flutter; but tonote thedifference between Sir Fopling Flutter and Sir Courtly Nicerequires amore exquisite judgment: for want of whichvulgarspectatorsof plays very often do great injustice in the theatre;where Ihave sometimes known a poet in danger of being convicted asa thiefupon much worse evidence than the resemblance of hands hathbeen heldto be in the law. In realityI apprehend every amorouswidow onthe stage would run the hazard of being condemned as aservileimitation of Didobut that happily very few of our play-housecriticsunderstand enough of Latin to read Virgil.

  Inthe next placewe must admonish theemy worthy friend (forperhapsthy heart may be better than thy head)not to condemn acharacteras a bad onebecause it is not perfectly a good one. Ifthou dostdelight in these models of perfectionthere are booksenowwritten to gratify thy taste; butas we have notin thecourse ofour conversationever happened to meet with any suchpersonwehave not chosen to introduce any such here. To say thetruthI alittle question whether mere man ever arrived at thisconsummatedegree of excellenceas well as whether there hath everexisted amonster bad enough to verify that

    --nulla virtute redemptum
    A vitiis--

inJuvenal; nor do Iindeedconceive the good purposes served byinsertingcharacters of such angelic perfectionor such diabolicaldepravityin any work of invention; sincefrom contemplating eitherthe mindof man is more likely to be overwhelmed with sorrow and shamethan todraw any good uses from such patterns; for in the formerinstancehe may be both concerned and ashamed to see a pattern ofexcellencein his naturewhich he may reasonably despair of everarrivingat; and in contemplating the latter he may be no lessaffectedwith those uneasy sensationsat seeing the nature of whichhe is apartaker degraded into so odious and detestable a creature.

  Infactif there be enough of goodness in a character to engage theadmirationand affection of a well-disposed mindthough thereshouldappear some of those little blemishes quas humana parum cavitnaturathey will raise our compassion rather than our abhorrence.Indeednothing can be of more moral use than the imperfectionswhich areseen in examples of this kind; since such form a kind ofsurprizemore apt to affect and dwell upon our minds than thefaults ofvery vicious and wicked persons. The foibles and vices ofmeninwhom there is great mixture of goodbecome more glaringobjectsfrom the virtues which contrast them and shew their deformity;and whenwe find such vices attended with their evil consequence toourfavourite characterswe are not only taught to shun them forour ownsakebut to hate them for the mischiefs they have alreadybrought onthose we love.

  Andnowmy friendhaving given you these few admonitionswe willif youpleaseonce more set forward with our history.

Chapter2
Containingthe arrival of an Irish gentlemanwith veryextraordinaryadventures which ensued at the inn

  Nowthe little trembling harewhich the dread of all her numerousenemiesand chiefly of that cunningcruelcarnivorous animalmanhadconfined all the day to her lurking placesports wantonlyo'er thelawns; now on some hollow tree the owlshrill chorister ofthe nighthoots forth notes which might charm the ears of some modernconnoisseursin music; nowin the imagination of the half-drunkclownashe staggers through the churchyardor rather charnelyard tohis homefear paints the bloody hobgoblin; now thieves and ruffiansare awakeand honest watchmen fast asleep; in plain Englishit wasnowmidnight; and the company at the innas well those who havebeenalready mentioned in this historyas some others who arrivedin theeveningwere all in bed. Only Susan Chambermaid was nowstirringshe being obliged to wash the kitchen before she retiredto thearms of the fond expecting hostler.

  Inthis posture were affairs at the inn when a gentleman arrivedtherepost. He immediately alighted from his horseandcoming upto Susanenquired of herin a very abrupt and confused mannerbeingalmost outof breath with eagernessWhether there was any lady in thehouse? Thehour of nightand the behaviour of the manwho staredverywildly all the timea little surprized Susanso that shehesitatedbefore she made any answer; upon which the gentlemanwithredoubledeagernessbegged her to give him a true informationsayinghehad lost his wifeand was come in pursuit of her. "Upon myshoul"cries he"I have been near catching her already in two orthreeplacesif I had not found her gone just as I came up withher. Ifshe be in the housedo carry me up in the dark and show herto me; andif she be gone away before medo tell me which way I shallgo afterher to meet herandupon my shoulI will make you therichestpoor woman in the nation." He then pulled out a handful ofguineasasight which would have bribed persons of much greaterconsequencethan this poor wench to much worse purposes.

 Susanfrom the account she had received of Mrs. Watersmade notthe leastdoubt but that she was the very identical stray whom therightowner pursued. As she concludedthereforewith greatappearanceof reasonthat she never could get money in an honesterway thanby restoring a wife to her husbandshe made no scruple ofassuringthe gentleman that the lady he wanted was then in thehouse; andwas presently afterwards prevailed upon (by very liberalpromisesand some earnest paid into her hands) to conduct him tothebedchamber of Mrs. Waters.

  Ithath been a custom long established in the polite worldand thatupon verysolid and substantial reasonsthat a husband shall neverenter hiswife's apartment without first knocking at the door. Themanyexcellent uses of this custom need scarce be hinted to a readerwho hathany knowledge of the world; for by this means the lady hathtime toadjust herselfor to remove any disagreeable object out ofthe way;for there are some situations in which nice and delicatewomenwould not be discovered by their husbands.

  Tosay the truththere are several ceremonies instituted amongthepolished part mankindwhichthough they mayto coarserjudgmentsappear as matters of mere formare found to have much ofsubstancein themby the more discerning; and lucky would it havebeen hadthe custom above mentioned been observed by our gentlemanin thepresent instance. Knockindeedhe did at the doorbut notwith oneof those gentle raps which is usual on such occasions. On thecontrarywhen he found the door lockedhe flew at it with suchviolencethat the lock immediately gave waythe door burst openandhe fellheadlong into the room.

  Hehad no sooner recovered his legs than forth from the beduponhis legslikewiseappeared- with shame and sorrow are we obliged toproceed-our heroe himselfwhowith a menacing voicedemanded ofthegentleman who he wasand what he meant by daring to burst openhischamber in that outrageous manner.

  Thegentleman at first thought he had committed a mistakeand wasgoing toask pardon and retreatwhenon a suddenas the moonshone verybrighthe cast his eyes on staysgownspetticoatscapsribbonsstockingsgartersshoesclogs&c.all which lay in adisorderedmanner on the floor. All theseoperating on the naturaljealousyof his temperso enraged himthat he lost all power ofspeech;andwithout returning any answer to Joneshe endeavouredtoapproach the bed.

 Jones immediately interposinga fierce contention arosewhich soonproceededto blows on both sides. And now Mrs. Waters (for we mustconfessshe was in the same bed)beingI supposeawakened fromher sleepand seeing two men fighting in her bedchamberbegan toscream inthe most violent mannercrying out murder! robbery! andmorefrequently rape! which lastsomeperhapsmay wonder she shouldmentionwho do not consider that these words of exclamation areused byladies in a frightas falalarada&c.are inmusiconly as the vehicles of soundand without any fixed ideas.

 Next to the lady's chamber was deposited the body of an Irishgentlemanwho arrived too late at the inn to have been mentionedbefore.This gentleman was one of those whom the Irish call acalabalaroor cavalier. He was a younger brother of a good familyandhaving no fortune at homewas obliged to look abroad in order toget one;for which purpose he was proceeding to the Bathto try hisluck withcards and the women.

 This young fellow lay in bed reading one of Mrs. Behn's novels;for he hadbeen instructed by a friend that he would find no moreeffectualmethod of recommending himself to the ladies than theimprovinghis understandingand filling his mind with goodliterature.He no soonerthereforeheard the violent uproar in thenext roomthan he leapt from his bolsterandtaking his sword inone handand the candle which burnt by him in the otherhe wentdirectlyto Mrs. Waters's chamber.

  Ifthe sight of another man in his shirt at first added some shockto thedeceny of the ladyit made her presently amends byconsiderablyabating her fears; for no sooner had the calabalaroenteredthe room than he cried out"Mr. Fitzpatrickwhat the devilis themaning of this?" Upon which the other immediately answered"OMr.Maclachlan! I am rejoiced you are here.- This villain hathdebauchedmy wifeand is got into bed with her."

"What wife?"criesMaclachlan;"do not I know Mrs. Fitzpatrick very welland don't I seethat theladywhom the gentleman who stands here in his shirt islying inbed withis none of her?"

 Fitzpatricknow perceivingas well by the glimpse he had of theladyasby her voicewhich might have been distinguished at agreaterdistance than he now stood from herthat he had made a veryunfortunatemistakebegan to ask many pardons of the lady; andthenturning to Joneshe said"I would have you take notice I donot askyour pardonfor you have bate me; for which I am resolvedto haveyour blood in the morning."

 Jones treated this menace with much contempt; and Mr. Maclachlananswered"IndeedMr. Fitzpatrickyou may be ashamed of your ownselftodisturb people at this time of night; if all the people inthe innwere not asleepyou would have awakened them as you haveme. Thegentleman has served you very rightly. Upon my consciencethough Ihave no wifeif you had treated her soI would have cutyourthroat."

 Jones was so confounded with his fears for his lady's reputationthat heknew neither what to say or do; but the invention of women isas hathbeen observedmuch readier than that of men. Sherecollectedthat there was a communication between her chamber andthat ofMr. Jones; relyingthereforeon his honour and her ownassuranceshe answered"I know not what you meanvillains! I amwife tonone of you. Help! Rape! Murder! Rape!"- And nowthelandladycoming into the roomMrs. Waters fell upon her with theutmostvirulencesaying"She thought herself in a sober innand notin abawdy-house; but that a set of villains had broke into herroomwithan intent upon her honourif not upon her life; andbothshesaidwere equally dear to her."

  Thelandlady now began to roar as loudly as the poor woman in bedhad donebefore. She cried"She was undoneand that the reputationof herhousewhich was never blown upon beforewas utterlydestroyed."Thenturning to the menshe cried"Whatin the devil'snameisthe reason of all this disturbance in the lady's room?"Fitzpatrickhanging down his headrepeated"That he had committed amistakefor which he heartily asked pardon" and then retired withhiscountryman. Joneswho was too ingenious to have missed the hintgiven himby his fair oneboldly asserted"That he had run to herassistanceupon hearing the door broke openwith what design he couldnotconceiveunless of robbing the lady; whichif they intendedhe saidhe had the good fortune to prevent."

"I never had a robberycommittedin my house since I have kept it" cries the landlady; "Iwould haveyou to knowsirI harbour no highwaymen here; I scorn thewordthofI say it. None but honestgood gentlefolks are welcometo myhouse; and I thank good luckI have always had enow of suchcustomers;indeed as many as I could entertain. Here hath been mylord-"and then she repeated over a catalogue of names and titlesmany ofwhich we mightperhapsbe guilty of a breach of privilege byinserting.

 Jones after much patienceat length interrupted herby making anapology toMrs. Watersfor having appeared before her in his shirtassuringher "That nothing but a concern for her safety could haveprevailedon him to do it." The reader may inform himself of heranswerandindeedof her whole behaviour to the end of the scenebyconsidering the situation which she affectedit being that of amodestladywho was awakened out of her sleep by three strange men inherchamber. This was the part which she undertook to perform; andindeedshe executed it so wellthat none of our theatrical actressescouldexceed herin any of their performanceseither on or off thestage.

  AndhenceI thinkwe may very fairly draw an argumentto provehowextremely natural virtue is to the fair sex; forthough thereis notperhapsone in ten thousand who is capable of making a goodactressand even among these we rarely see two who are equally abletopersonate the same characteryet this of virtue they can alladmirablywell put on; and as well those individuals who have itnotasthose who possess itcan all act it to the utmost degree ofperfection.

 When the men were all departedMrs. Watersrecovering from herfearrecovered likewise from her angerand spoke in much gentleraccents tothe landladywho did not so readily quit her concern forthereputation of the housein favour of which she began again tonumber themany great persons who had slept under her roof; but thelady stopther shortand having absolutely acquitted her of havinghad anyshare in the past disturbancebegged to be left to herreposewhichshe saidshe hoped to enjoy unmolested during theremainderof the night. Upon which the landladyafter much civilityand manycourtsiestook her leave.

Chapter3
A dialoguebetween the landlady and Susan the chambermaidproper tobe read byall inn-keepers and their servants; with the arrivalandaffablebehaviour of a beautiful young lady; which may teach personsofcondition how they may acquire the love of the whole world

  Thelandladyremembering that Susan had been the only person out ofbed whenthe door was burst openresorted presently to hertoenquireinto the first occasion of the disturbanceas well as who thestrangegentleman wasand when and how he arrived.

 Susan related the whole story which the reader knows alreadyvaryingthe truth only in some circumstancesas she saw convenientandtotally concealing the money which she had received. But whereashermistress hadin the preface to her enquiryspoken much incompassionfor the fright which the lady had been in concerning anyintendeddepredations on her virtueSusan could not help endeavouringto quietthe concern which her mistress seemed to be under on thataccountby swearing heartily she saw Jones leap out from her bed.

  Thelandlady fell into a violent rage at these words. "A likelystorytruly" cried she"that a woman should cry outandendeavourto expose herselfif that was the casel I desire to knowwhatbetter proof any lady can give of her virtue than her crying outwhich Ibelievetwenty people can witness for her she did? I begmadamyouwould spread no such scandal of any of my guests; for itwill notonly reflect on thembut upon the house; and I am sure novagabondsnor wicked beggarly peoplecome here."

 "Well" says Susan"then I must not believe my owneyes."

"Noindeedmust you not always" answered her mistress; "I would nothavebelievedmy own eyes against such good gentlefolks. I have not had abettersupper ordered this half-year than they ordered last night; andso easyand good-humoured were theythat they found no fault withmyWorcestershire perrywhich I sold them for champagne; and to besure it isas well tasted and as wholesome as the best champagne inthekingdomotherwise I would scorn to give it 'em; and they drank metwobottles. NonoI will never believe any harm of such sobergood sortof people."

 Susan being thus silencedher mistress proceeded to othermatters."And so you tell me" continued she"that the strangegentlemancame postand there is a footman without the horses; whythenheis certainly some of your great gentlefolks too. Why didnot youask him whether he'd have any supper? I think he is in theothergentleman's room; go up and ask whether he called. Perhaps he'llordersomething when he finds anybody stirring in the house to dressit. Nowdon't commit any of your usual blundersby telling him thefire'soutand the fowls alive. And if he should order muttondon't blabout that we have none. The butcherI knowkilled asheep justbefore I went to bedand he never refuses to cut it upwarm whenI desire it. Goremember there's all sorts of mutton andfowls; goopen the door withGentlemend'ye call? and if they saynothingask what his honour will be pleased to have for supper? Don'tforget hishonour. Go; if you don't mind all these matters betteryou'llnever come to anything."

 Susan departedand soon returned with an account that the twogentlemenwere got both into the same bed. "Two gentlemen" says thelandlady"in the same bed! that's impossible; they are two arrantscrubsIwarrant them; and I believe young Squire Allworthy guessedrightthat the fellow intended to rob her ladyship; forif he hadbroke openthe lady's door with any of the wicked designs of agentlemanhe would never have sneaked away to another room to savetheexpense of a supper and a bed to himself. They are certainlythievesand their searching after a wife is nothing but a pretence."

  Inthese censures my landlady did Mr. Fitzpatrick great injustice;for he wasreally born a gentlemanthough not worth a groat; andthoughperhapshe had some few blemishes in his heart as well asin hisheadyet being a sneaking or a niggardly fellow was not one ofthem. Inrealityhe was so generous a manthatwhereas he hadreceived avery handsome fortune with his wifehe had now spent everypenny ofitexcept some little pittance which was settled upon her;andinorder to possess himself of thishe had used her with suchcrueltythattogether with his jealousywhich was of thebitterestkindit had forced the poor woman to run away from him.

 This gentleman then being well tired with his long journey fromChester inone daywith whichand some good dry blows he hadreceivedin the scufflehis bones were so sorethatadded to thesorenessof his mindit had quite deprived him of any appetite foreating.And being now so violently disappointed in the woman whomat themaid's instancehe had mistaken for his wifeit never onceenteredinto his head that she might nevertheless be in the housethough hehad erred in the first person he had attacked. Hethereforeyielded to the dissuasions of his friend from searchinganyfarther after her that nightand accepted the kind offer ofpart ofhis bed.

  Thefootman and post-boy were in a different disposition. Theywere moreready to order than the landlady was to provide; howeverafterbeing pretty well satisfied by them of the real truth of thecaseandthat Mr. Fitzpatrick was no thiefshe was at lengthprevailedon to set some cold meat before themwhich they weredevouringwith great greedinesswhen Partridge came into the kitchen.He hadbeen first awaked by the hurry which we have before seen; andwhile hewas endeavouring to compose himself again on his pillowascreech-owlhad given him such a serenade at his windowthat he leaptin a mosthorrible affright from his bedandhuddling on his clotheswith greatexpeditionran down to the protection of the companywhomhe heardtalking below in the kitchen.

  Hisarrival detained my landlady from returning to her rest; for shewas justabout to leave the other two guests to the care of Susan; butthe friendof young Squire Allworthy was not to be so neglectedespeciallyas he called for a pint of wine to be mulled. Sheimmediatelyobeyedby putting the same quantity of perry to the fire;for thisreadily answered to the name of every kind of wine.

  TheIrish footman was retired to bedand the post-boy was goingto follow;but Partridge invited him to stay and partake of hiswinewhich the lad very thankfully accepted. The schoolmaster wasindeedafraid to return to bed by himself; and as he did not knowhow soonhe might lose the company of my landladyhe was resolvedto securethat of the boyin whose presence he apprehended nodangerfrom the devil or any of his adherents.

  Andnow arrived another post-boy at the gate; upon which Susanbeingordered outreturnedintroducing two young women in ridinghabitsone of which was so very richly lacedthat Partridge andthepost-boy instantly started from their chairsand my landlady fellto hercourtsiesand her ladyshipswith great eagerness.

  Thelady in the rich habit saidwith a smile of greatcondescension"If you will give me leavemadamI will warm myself afewminutes at your kitchen firefor it is really very cold; but Imustinsist on disturbing no one from his seat." This was spoken onaccount ofPartridgewho had retreated to the other end of theroomstruck with the utmost awe and astonishment at the splendor ofthe lady'sdress. Indeedshe had a much better title to respectthan this;for she was one of the most beautiful creatures in theworld.

  Thelady earnestly desired Partridge to return to his seat; butcould notprevail. She then pulled off her glovesand displayed tothe firetwo handswhich had every property of snow in themexceptthat ofmelting. Her companionwho was indeed her maidlikewisepulled offher glovesand discovered what bore an exactresemblancein cold and colourto a piece of frozen beef.

  "Iwishmadam" quoth the latter"your ladyship would notthink ofgoing anyfarther to-night. I am terribly afraid your ladyship willnot beable to bear the fatigue."

 "Why sure" cries the landlady"her ladyship's honourcan neverintend it.Obless me! farther to-nightindeed! let me beseechyourladyship not to think on't-- Butto be sureyour ladyshipcan't.What will your honour be pleased to have for supper? I havemutton ofall kindsand some nice chicken."

  "Ithinkmadam" said the lady"it would be rather breakfastthansupper; but I can't eat anything; andif I stayshall onlylie downfor an hour or two. Howeverif you pleasemadamyou mayget me alittle sack wheymade very small and thin."

 "Yesmadam" cries the mistress of the house"I havesomeexcellentwhite wine."

"You have no sackthen?" says the lady."Yesan't please your honourI have; I may challenge the country forthat- butlet me beg your ladyship to eat something."

 "Upon my wordI can't eat a morsel" answered the lady;"and Ishall bemuch obliged to you if you will please to get my apartmentready assoon as possible; for I am resolved to be on horsebackagain inthree hours."

 "WhySusan" cries the landlady"is there a fire lityet in theWild-goose?I am sorrymadamall my best rooms are full. Severalpeople ofthe first quality are now in bed. Here's a great youngsquireand many other great gentlefolks of quality." Susananswered"That the Irish gentlemen were got into the Wild-goose."

 "Was ever anything like it?" says the mistress; "whythe devil wouldyou notkeep some of the best rooms for the qualitywhen you knowscarce aday passes without some calling here?-- If they be gentlemenI amcertainwhen they know it is for her ladyshipthey will get upagain."

 "Not upon my account" says the lady; "I will have nopersondisturbedfor me. If you have a room that is commonly decentitwill serveme very wellthough it be never so plain. I begmadamyou willnot give yourself so much trouble on my account."

"Omadam!"cries theother"I have several very good rooms for that matterbut nonegood enough for your honour's ladyship. Howeveras you aresocondescending to take up with the best I havedoSusanget afire inthe Rose this minute. Will your ladyship be pleased to go upnoworstay till the fire is lighted?"

"I think I havesufficientlywarmedmyself" answered the lady; "soif you pleaseI will gonow; I amafraid I have kept peopleand particularly that gentleman(meaningPartridge)too long in the cold already. IndeedI cannotbear tothink of keeping any person from the fire this dreadfulweather."-She then departed with her maidthe landlady marchingwith twolighted candles before her.

 When that good woman returnedthe conversation in the kitchen wasall uponthe charms of the young lady. There is indeed in perfectbeauty apower which none almost can withstand; for my landladythough shewas not pleased at the negative given to the supperdeclaredshe had never seen so lovely a creature. Partridge ran outinto themost extravagant encomiums on her facethough he could notrefrainfrom paying some compliments to the gold lace on her habit;thepost-boy sung forth the praises of her goodnesswhich werelikewiseechoed by the other post-boywho was now come in. "She's atrue goodladyI warrant her" says he; "for she hath mercy upondumbcreatures;for she asked me every now and tan upon the journeyif Idid notthink she should hurt the horses by riding too fast? andwhen shecame in she charged me to give them as much corn as ever theywouldeat."

 Such charms are there in affabilityand so sure is it to attractthepraises of all kinds of people. It may indeed be compared to thecelebratedMrs. Hussey. It is equally sure to set offevery femaleperfectionto the highest advantageand to palliate and conceal everydefect. Ashort reflectionwhich we could not forbear making inthisplacewhere my reader hath seen the loveliness of an affabledeportment;and truth will now oblige us to contrast itby showingthereverse.

Chapter4
Containinginfallible nostrums for procuring universal disesteem andHatred

  Thelady had no sooner laid herself on her pillow than thewaiting-womanreturned to the kitchen to regale with some of thosedaintieswhich her mistress had refused.

  Thecompanyat her entranceshewed her the same respect which theyhad beforepaid to her mistressby rising; but she forgot toimitateherby desiring them to sit down again. Indeed; it was scarcepossiblethey should have done sofor she placed her chair in sucha postureas to occupy almost the whole fire. She then ordered achicken tobe broiled that instantdeclaringif it was not readyin aquarter of an hourshe would not stay for it. Nowthough thesaidchicken was then at roost in the stableand required the severalceremoniesof catchingkillingand pickingbefore it was brought tothegridironmy landlady would nevertheless have undertaken to do allwithin thetime; but the guestsbeing unfortunately admitted behindthescenesmust have been witness to the fourberie;the poor womanwastherefore obliged to confess that she had none in the house; "butmadam"said she"I can get any kind of mutton in an instant from thebutcher's."

  "Doyou thinkthen" answered the waiting gentlewoman"that Ihavethestomach of a horseto eat mutton at this time of night? Sureyou peoplethat keep inns imagine your betters are like yourselves.IndeedIexpected to get nothing at this wretched place. I wondermy ladywould stop at it. I suppose none but tradesmen and grasiersever callhere." The landlady fired at this indignity offered to herhouse;howevershe suppressed her temperand contented herselfwithsaying"Very good quality frequented itshe thanked heaven!"

"Don'ttell me" cries the other"of quality! I believe I knowmoreof peopleof quality than such as you.- Butpritheewithouttroublingme with any of your impertinencedo tell me what I can haveforsupper; forthough I cannot eat horse-fleshI am really hungry."

"Whytrulymadam" answered the landlady"you could not takemeagain atsuch a disadvantage; for I must confess I have nothing in thehouseunless a cold piece of beefwhich indeed a gentleman's footmanand thepost-boy have almost cleared to the bone."

"Woman"saidMrs.Abigail (so for shortness we will call her)"I entreat you notto make mesick. If I had fasted a monthI could not eat what hadbeentouched by the fingers of such fellows. Is there nothing neator decentto be had in this horrid place?"

"What think you of someeggs andbaconmadam?" said the landlady. "Are your eggs new laid?are youcertain they were laid to-day? and let me have the bacon cutvery niceand thin; for I can't endure anything that's gross.- Pritheetry if youcan do a little tolerably for onceand don't think youhave afarmer's wifeor some of those creaturesin the house."- Thelandladybegan then to handle her knife; but the other stopt hersaying"Good womanI must insist upon your first washing your hands;for I amextremely niceand have been always used from my cradle tohaveeverything in the most elegant manner."

  Thelandladywho governed herself with much difficultybegan nowthenecessary preparations; for as to Susanshe was utterly rejectedand withsuch disdainthat the poor wench was as hard put to it torestrainher hands from violence as her mistress had been to holdhertongue. This indeed Susan did not entirely; forthough sheliterallykept it within her teethyet there it muttered many"marry-come-upsas good flesh and blood as yourself; with othersuchindignant phrases.

 While the supper was preparingMrs. Abigail began to lament she hadnotordered a fire in the parlour; butshe saidthat was now toolate."However" said she"I have novelty to recommend akitchen; forI do notbelieve I ever eat in one before." Thenturning to thepost-boysshe asked them"Why they were not in the stable with theirhorses? IfI must eat my hard fare heremadam" cries she to thelandlady"I beg the kitchen may be kept clearthat I may not besurroundedwith all the blackguards in town: as for yousirsays shetoPartridge"you look somewhat like a gentlemanand may sitstillif youplease; I don't desire to disturb anybody but mob."

 "Yesyesmadam" cries Partridge"I am a gentlemanI do assureyouand Iam not so easily to be disturbed. Non semper vox casualisest verbonominativus." This Latin she took to be some affrontandanswered"You may be a gentlemansir; but you don't show yourself asone totalk Latin to a woman." Partridge made a gentle replyandconcludedwith more Latin; upon which she tossed up her noseandcontentedherself by abusing him with the name of a great scholar.

  Thesupper being now on the tableMrs. Abigail eat very heartilyfor sodelicate a person; andwhile a second course of the same wasby herorder preparingshe said"And somadamyou tell me yourhouse isfrequented by people of great quality?"

  Thelandlady answered in the affirmativesaying"There were agreat manyvery good quality and gentlefolks in it now. There'syoungSquire Allworthyas that gentleman there knows."

 "And pray who is this young gentleman of qualitythis youngSquireAllworthy?" said Abigail.

 "Who should he be" answered Partridge"but the sonand heir of thegreatSquire Allworthyof Somersetshire!"

"Upon my word"said she"youtell me strange news; for I know Mr. Allworthy of Somersetshirevery welland I know he hath no son alive."

  Thelandlady pricked up her ears at thisand Partridge looked alittleconfounded. Howeverafter a short hesitationhe answered"Indeedmadamit is trueeverybody doth not know him to be SquireAllworthy'sson; he was never married to his mother; but his son hecertainlyisand will be his heir tooas certainly as his name isJones."At that wordAbigail let drop the bacon which she wasconveyingto her mouthand cried out"You surprize mesir! Is itpossibleMr. Jones should be now in the house?"

"Quare non?"answeredPartridge"it is possibleand it is certain."

 Abigail now made haste to finish the remainder of her meal andthenrepaired back to her mistresswhen the conversation passed whichmay beread in the next chapter.

Chapter5
Showingwho the amiable ladyand her unamiable maid were

  Asin the month of Junethe damask rosewhich chance hathplantedamong the lilieswith their candid hue mixes his vermilion;or as someplaysome heifer in the pleasant month of May diffuses herodoriferousbreath over the flowery meadows; or asin the bloomingmonth ofAprilthe gentleconstant doveperched on some fair boughsitsmeditating on her matesolooking a hundred charms andbreathingas many sweetsher thoughts being fixed on her Tommywith aheart as good and innocent as her face was beautifulSophia(for itwas she herself) lay reclining her lovely head on her handwhen hermaid entered the roomandrunning directly to the bedcried"Madam- madam- who doth your ladyship think is in the house?"Sophiastarting upcried"I hope my father hath not overtaken us."

"Nomadamit is one worth a hundred fathers; Mr. Jones himself ishere atthis very instant."

"Mr. Jones!" says Sophia"itisimpossible!I cannot be so fortunate." Her maid averred the factand waspresently detached by her mistress to order him to becalled;for she said she was resolved to see him immediately.

 Mrs. Honour had no sooner left the kitchen in the manner we havebeforeseen than the landlady fell severely upon her. The poor womanhad indeedbeen loading her heart with foul language for some timeand now itscoured out of her mouthas filth doth from a mud-cartwhen theboard which confines it is removed. Partridge likewiseshovelledin his share of calumnyand (what may surprize thereader)not only bespattered the maidbut attempted to sully thelily-whitecharacter of Sophia herself. "Never a barrel the betterherring"cries he"Noscitur a sociois a true saying. It must beconfessedindeedthat the lady in the fine garments is thecivillerof the two; but I warrant neither of them are a bit betterthan theyshould be. A couple of Bath trullsI'll answer for them;yourquality don't ride about at this time o' night without servants."

"Sbodlikinsand that's true" cries the landlady"you have certainlyhit uponthe very matter; for quality don't come into a housewithoutbespeaking a supperwhether they eat it or no."

 While they were thus discoursingMrs. Honour returned anddischargedher commissionby bidding the landlady immediately wakeMr. Jonesand tell him a lady wanted to speak with him. Thelandladyreferred her to Partridgesaying"he was the squire'sfriend:butfor her partshe never called menfolksespeciallygentlemen"and then walked sullenly out of the kitchen. Honourappliedherself to Partridge; but he refused"for my friend"crieshe"wentto bed very lateand he would be very angry to be disturbedso soon."Mrs. Honour insisted still to have him calledsaying"shewas sureinstead of being angrythat he would be to the highestdegreedelighted when he knew the occasion."

"Another timeperhapshe might"cries Partridge; "but non omnia possumus omnes. One womanis enoughat once for a reasonable man."

"What do you mean by onewomanfellow?" cries Honour. "None of your fellow" answeredPartridge.He then proceeded to inform her plainly that Jones was inbed with awenchand made use of an expression too indelicate to behereinserted; which so enraged Mrs. Honourthat she called himjackanapesand returned in a violent hurry to her mistresswhomsheacquainted with the success of her errandand with the accountshe hadreceived; whichif possibleshe exaggeratedbeing asangry withJones as if he had pronounced all the words that camefrom themouth of Partridge. She discharged a torrent of abuse onthemasterand advised her mistress to quit all thoughts of a man whohad nevershown himself deserving of her. She then ripped up the storyof MollySeagrimand gave the most malicious turn to his formerlyquittingSophia herself; whichI must confessthe present incidentnot alittle countenanced.

  Thespirits of Sophia were too much dissipated by concern toenable herto stop the torrent of her maid. At lasthoweversheinterruptedhersaying"I never can believe this; some villainhathbelied him. You say you had it from his friend; but surely itis not theoffice of a friend to betray such secrets."

"I suppose"criesHonour"the fellow is his pimp; for I never saw so ill-looked avillain.Besidessuch profligate rakes as Mr. Jones are never ashamedof thesematters."

  Tosay the truththis behaviour of Partridge was a littleinexcusable;but he had not slept off the effect of the dose whichheswallowed the evening before; which hadin the morningreceivedtheaddition of above a pint of wineor indeed rather of maltspirits;for the perry was by no means pure. Nowthat part of hishead whichNature designed for the reservoir of drink being veryshallowasmall quantity of liquor overflowed itand opened thesluices ofhis heart; so that all the secrets there deposited run out.Thesesluices were indeednaturallyvery ill-secured. To give thebest-naturedturn we can to his dispositionhe was a very honest man;foras hewas the most inquisitive of mortalsand eternally pryinginto thesecrets of othersso he very faithfully paid them bycommunicatingin returneverything within his knowledge.

 While Sophiatormented with anxietyknew not what to believernorwhatresolution to take; Susan arrived with the sack-whey. Mrs. Honourimmediatelyadvised her mistressin a whisperto pump this wenchwhoprobably could inform her of the truth. Sophia approved itandbegan asfollows: "Come hitherchild; now answer me truly what I amgoing toask youand I promise you I will very well reward you. Isthere ayoung gentleman in this housea handsome young gentlemanthat--"Here Sophia blushed and was confounded. "A young gentleman"criesHonour"that came hither in company with that saucy rascalwho is nowin the kitchen?" Susan answered"There was."

"Doyouknowanything of any lady?" continues Sophia"any lady? I don'taskyouwhether she is handsome or no; perhaps she is not; that'snothing tothe purpose; but do you know of any lady?"

"Lamadam"criesHonour"you will make a very bad examiner. Hark'eechild"says she"is not that very young gentleman now in bed with some nastytrull orother?" Here Susan smiledand was silent. "Answer thequestionchild" says Sophia"and here's a guinea for you."

"Aguinea!madam" cries Susan; "lawhat's a guinea? If my mistressshouldknow it I shall certainly lose my place that very instant."

"Here'sanother for you" says Sophia"and I promise youfaithfullyyourmistress shall never know it." Susanafter a very shorthesitationtook the moneyand told the whole storyconcludingwithsaying"If you have any great curisitymadamI can stealsoftlyinto his roomand see whether he be in his own bed or no." Sheaccordinglydid this by Sophia's desireand returned with an answerin thenegative.

 Sophia now trembled and turned pale. Mrs. Honour begged her to becomfortedand not to think any more of so worthless a fellow. "Whythere"says Susan"I hopemadamyour ladyship won't be offended;but praymadamis not your ladyship's name Madam Sophia Western?"

"Howis it possible you should know me?" answered Sophia. "Whythatmanthatthe gentlewoman spoke ofwho is in the kitchentoldabout youlast night. But I hope your ladyship is not angry withme."

"Indeedchild" said she"I am not; pray tell mealland Ipromiseyou I'll reward you."

"Whymadam" continued Susan"that mantold usall in the kitchen that Madam Sophia Western- indeed I don'tknow howto bring it out."- Here she stopttillhaving receivedencouragementfrom Sophiaand being vehemently pressed by Mrs.Honourshe proceeded thus:

"He told usmadamthough to be sure itis all aliethat your ladyship was dying for love of the youngsquireand that he was going to the wars to get rid of you. I thoughtto myselfthen he was a false-hearted wretch; butnowto see sucha finerichbeautiful lady as you beforsaken for such anordinarywoman; for to be sure so she isand another man's wifeinto thebargain. It is such a strange unnatural thingin a manner."

 Sophia gave her a third guineaandtelling her she would certainlybe herfriend if she mentioned nothing of what had passednorinformedany one who she wasdismissed the girlwith orders to thepost-boyto get the horses ready immediately.

 Being now left alone with her maidshe told her trustywaiting-woman"That she never was more easy than at present. I am nowconvinced"said she"he is not only a villainbut a low despicablewretch. Ican forgive all rather than his exposing my name in sobarbarousa manner. That renders him the object of my contempt. YesHonourIam now easy; I am indeed; I am very easy;" and then sheburst intoa violent flood of tears.

 After a short interval spent by Sophiachiefly in cryingandassuringher maid that she was perfectly easySusan arrived with anaccountthat the horses were readywhen a very extraordinarythoughtsuggested itself to our young heroineby which Mr. Joneswould beacquainted with her having been at the innin a way whichif anysparks of affection for her remained in himwould be atleast somepunishment for his faults.

  Thereader will be pleased to remember a little muffwhich hath hadthe honourof being more than once remembered already in this history.This muffever since the departure of Mr. Joneshad been theconstantcompanion of Sophia by dayand her bedfellow by night; andthis muffshe had at this very instant upon her arm; whence she tookit offwith great indignationandhaving writ her name with herpencilupon a piece of paper which she pinned to itshe bribed themaid toconvey it into the empty bed of Mr. Jonesin whichif he didnot finditshe charged her to take some method of conveying itbefore hiseyes in the morning.

 Thenhaving paid for what Mrs. Honour had eatenin which billwasincluded an account for what she herself might have eatenshemountedher horseandonce more assuring her companion that shewasperfectly easycontinued her journey.

Chapter6
Containingamong other thingsthe ingenuity of Partridgethemadness ofJonesand the folly of Fitzpatrick

  Itwas now past five in the morningand other company began to riseand cometo the kitchenamong whom were the serjeant and thecoachmanwhobeing thoroughly reconciledmade a libationorintheEnglish phrasedrank a hearty cup together.

  Inthis drinking nothing more remarkable happened than the behaviourofPartridgewhowhen the serjeant drank a health to King Georgerepeatedonly the word King; nor could he be brought to utter more;for thoughhe was going to fight against his own causeyet he couldnot beprevailed upon to drink against it.

  Mr.Jonesbeing now returned to his own bed (but from whence hereturnedwe must beg to be excused from relating)summonedPartridgefrom this agreeable companywhoafter a ceremoniousprefacehaving obtained leave to offer his advicedeliveredhimself asfollows:-

  "Itissiran old sayingand a true onethat a wise man maysometimeslearn counsel from a fool; I wishthereforeI might beso bold asto offer you my advicewhich is to return home againand leavethese horrida bellathese bloody warsto fellows who arecontentedto swallow gunpowderbecause they have nothing else to eat.Noweverybody knows your honour wants for nothing home; when that'sthe casewhy should any man travel abroad?"

 "Partridge" cries Jones"thou art certainly acoward; I wishthereforethou wouldst return home thyselfand trouble me no more."

  "Iask your honour's pardon" cries Partridge; "I spoke onyouraccountmore than my own; for as to meHeaven knows mycircumstancesare bad enoughand I am so far from being afraidthat Ivalue a pistolor a blunderbussor any such thingno morethan apop-gun. Every man must die onceand what signifies the mannerhow?besidesperhaps I may come off with the loss only of an arm or aleg. Iassure yousirI was never less afraid in my life; and soifyourhonour is resolved to go onI am resolved to follow you. Butinthat caseI wish I might give my opinion. To be sureit is ascandalousway of travellingfor a great gentleman like you to walkafoot. Nowhere are two or three good horses in the stablewhichthelandlord will certainly make no scruple of trusting you with; butif heshouldI can easily contrive to take them; andlet the worstcome tothe worstthe king would certainly pardon youas you aregoing tofight in his cause."

 Nowas the honesty of Partridge was equal to his understandingandboth dealtonly in small mattershe would never have attempted aroguery ofthis kindhad he not imagined it altogether safe; for hewas one ofthose who have more consideration of the gallows than ofthefitness of things; butin realityhe thought he might havecommittedthis felony without any danger; forbesides that he doubtednot butthe name of Mr. Allworthy would sufficiently quiet thelandlordhe conceived they should be altogether safewhatever turnaffairsmight take; as Joneshe imaginedwould have friends enoughon onesideand as his friends would as well secure him on the other.

 When Mr. Jones found that Partridge was in earnest in this proposalhe veryseverely rebuked himand that in such bitter termsthatthe otherattempted to laugh it offand presently turned thediscourseto other matters; sayinghe believed they were then in abawdy-houseand that he had with much ado prevented two wenchesfromdisturbing his honour in the middle of the night. "Heyday!"says he"I believe they got into your chamber whether I would orno; forhere lies the muff of one of them on the ground." IndeedasJonesreturned to his bed in the darkhe had never perceived the muffon thequiltandin leaping into his bedhe had tumbled it on thefloor.This Partridge now took upand was going to put into hispocketwhen Jones desired to see it. The muff was so very remarkablethat ourheroe might possibly have recollected it without theinformationannexed. But his memory was not put to that hard office;for at thesame instant he saw and read the words Sophia Westernupon thepaper which was pinned to it. His looks now grew frantic in amomentand he eagerly cried out"Oh Heavens! how came this muffhere?"

"I know no more than your honour" cried Partridge; "butIsaw itupon the arm of one of the women who would have disturbedyouif Iwould have suffered them."

"Where are they?" criesJonesjumpingout of bedand laying hold of his cloaths. "Many miles offIbelieveby this time" said Partridge. And now Jonesupon furtherenquirywas sufficiently assured that the bearer of this muff wasno otherthan the lovely Sophia herself.

  Thebehaviour of Jones on this occasionhis thoughtshis lookshis wordshis actionswere such as beggar all description. Aftermanybitter execrations on Partridgeand not fewer on himselfheorderedthe poor fellowwho was frightened out of his witsto rundown andhire him horses at any rate; and a very few minutesafterwardshaving shuffled on his clotheshe hastened down-stairs toexecutethe orders himselfwhich he had just before given.

  Butbefore we proceed to what passed on his arrival in thekitchenit will be necessary to recur to what had there happenedsincePartridge had first left it on his master's summons.

  Theserjeant was just marched off with his partywhen the two Irishgentlemenaroseand came downstairs; both complaining that they hadbeen sooften waked by the noises in the innthat they had never oncebeen ableto close their eyes all night.

  Thecoach which had brought the young lady and her maidandwhichperhapsthe reader may have hitherto concluded was her ownwasindeeda returned coach belonging to Mr. Kingof Bathone oftheworthiest and honestest men that ever dealt in horsefleshandwhosecoaches we heartily recommend to all our readers who travel thatroad. Bywhich means they mayperhapshave the pleasure of riding inthe verycoachand being driven by the very coachmanthat isrecordedin this history.

  Thecoachmanhaving but two passengersand hearing Mr.Maclachlanwas going to Bathoffered to carry him thither at a verymoderateprice. He was induced to this by the report of the hostlerwho saidthat the horse which Mr. Maclachlan had hired fromWorcesterwould be much more pleased with returning to his friendsthere thanto prosecute a long journey; for that the said horse wasrather atwo-legged than a four-legged animal.

  Mr.Maclachlan immediately closed with the proposal of the coachmanandatthe same timepersuaded his friend Fitzpatrick to accept ofthe fourthplace in the coach. This conveyance the soreness of hisbones mademore agreeable to him than a horse; andbeing well assuredof meetingwith his wife at Bathhe thought a little delay would beof noconsequence.

  Maclachlanwho was much the sharper man of the twono sooner heardthat thislady came from Chesterwith the other circumstances whichhe learnedfrom the hostlerthan it came into his head that she mightpossiblybe his friend's wife; and presently acquainted him withthissuspicionwhich had never once occurred to Fitzpatrickhimself.To say the truthhe was one of those compositions whichnaturemakes up in too great a hurryand forgets to put any brainsinto theirheads.

  Nowit happens to this sort of menas to bad houndswho neverhit off afault themselves; but no sooner doth a dog of sagacityopen hismouth than they immediately do the sameandwithout theguidanceof any scentrun directly forwards as fast as they are able.In thesame mannerthe very moment Mr. Maclachlan had mentioned hisapprehensionMr. Fitzpatrick instantly concurredand flew directlyup-stairsto surprize his wifebefore he knew where she was; andunluckily(as Fortune loves to play tricks with those gentlemen whoputthemselves entirely under her conduct) ran his head againstseveraldoors and posts to no purpose. Much kinder was she to mewhenshesuggested that simile of the houndsjust before inserted; sincethe poorwife mayon these occasionsbe so justly compared to ahuntedhare. Like that little wretched animalshe pricks up herears tolisten after the voice of her pursuer; like herflies awaytremblingwhen she hears it; andlike heris generally overtaken anddestroyedin the end.

 This was not however the case at present; for after a long fruitlesssearchMr. Fitzpatrick returned to the kitchenwhereas if this hadbeen areal chaceentered a gentleman hallowing as hunters do whenthe houndsare at a fault. He was just alighted from his horseandhad manyattendants at his heels.

 Herereaderit may be necessary to acquaint thee with somematterswhichif thou dost know alreadythou art wiser than Itake theeto be. And this information thou shalt receive in the nextchapter.

Chapter7
In whichare concluded the adventures that happened at the inn atUpton

  Inthe first placethenthis gentleman just arrived was no otherpersonthan Squire Western himselfwho was come hither in pursuitof hisdaughter; andhad he fortunately been two hours earlierhehad notonly found herbut his niece into the bargain; for such wasthe wifeof Mr. Fitzpatrickwho had run away with her five yearsbeforeout of the custody of that sage ladyMadam Western.

  Nowthis lady had departed from the inn much about the same timewithSophia; forhaving been waked by the voice of her husbandshehad sentup for the landladyand being by her apprized of the matterhad bribedthe good womanat an extravagant priceto furnish herwithhorses for her escape. Such prevalence had money in thisfamily;and though the mistress would have turned away her maid fora corrupthussyif she had known as much as the readeryet she wasno moreproof against corruption herself than poor Susan had been.

  Mr.Western and his nephew were not known to one another; nor indeedwould theformer have taken any notice of the latter if he had knownhim; forthis being a stolen matchand consequently an unnatural onein theopinion of the good squirehe hadfrom the time of hercommittingitabandoned the poor young creaturewho was then no morethaneighteenas a monsterand had never since suffered her to benamed inhis presence.

  Thekitchen was now a scene of universal confusionWesternenquiringafter his daughterand Fitzpatrick as eagerly after hiswifewhenJones entered the roomunfortunately having Sophia'smuff inhis hand.

  Assoon as Western saw Joneshe set up the same holla as is used bysportsmenwhen their game is in view. He then immediately run up andlaid holdof Jonescrying"We have got the dog foxI warrant thebitch isnot far off." The jargon which followed for some minuteswhere manyspoke different things at the same timeas it would beverydifficult to describeso would it be no less unpleasant to read.

 Jones havingat lengthshaken Mr. Western offand some of thecompanyhaving interfered between themour heroe protested hisinnocenceas to knowing anything of the lady; when Parson Supplesteppedupand said"It is folly to deny it; for whythe marks ofguilt arein thy hands. I will myself asseverate and bind it by anoaththatthe muff thou bearest in thy hand belongeth unto MadamSophia;for I have frequently observed herof later daysto bearit abouther."

"My daughter's muff!" cries the squire in arage. "Hathhe got mydaughter's muff? bear witness the goods are found uponhim. I'llhave him before a justice of peace this instant. Where is mydaughtervillain?"

"Sir" said Jones"I beg you would bepacified.The muffI acknowledgeis the young lady's; butupon my honourIhave neverseen her." At these words Western lost all patienceandgrewinarticulate with rage.

 Some of the servants had acquainted Fitzpatrick who Mr. Western was.The goodIrishmanthereforethinking he had now an opportunity to doan act ofservice to his uncleand by that means might possiblyobtain hisfavourstept up to Jonesand cried out"Upon myconsciencesiryou may be ashamed of denying your having seen thegentleman'sdaughter before my facewhen you know I found you thereupon thebed together." Thenturning to Westernhe offered toconducthim immediately to the room where his daughter was; whichofferbeing acceptedhethe squirethe parsonand some othersascendeddirectly to Mrs. Waters's chamberwhich they entered with nolessviolence than Mr. Fitzpatrick had done before.

  Thepoor lady started from her sleep with as much amazement asterrorand beheld at her bedside a figure which might very well besupposedto have escaped out of Bedlam. Such wildness and confusionwere inthe looks of Mr. Western; who no sooner saw the lady than hestartedbackshewing sufficiently by his mannerbefore he spokethat thiswas not the person sought after.

  Somuch more tenderly do women value their reputation than theirpersonsthatthough the latter seemed now in more danger thanbeforeyetas the former was securethe lady screamed not with suchviolenceas she had done on the other occasion. Howevershe no soonerfoundherself alone than she abandoned all thoughts of further repose;andasshe had sufficient reason tobe dissatisfied with her presentlodgingshe dressed herself with all possible expedition.

  Mr.Western now proceeded to search the whole housebut to aslittlepurpose as he had disturbed poor Mrs. Waters. He thenreturneddisconsolate into the kitchenwhere he found Jones in thecustody ofhis servants.

 This violent uproar had raised all the people in the housethoughit was yetscarcely daylight. Among these was a grave gentlemanwhohad thehonour to be in the commission of the peace for the countyofWorcester. Of which Mr. Western was no sooner informed than heoffered tolay his complaint before him. The justice declinedexecutinghis officeas he said he had no clerk presentnor nobook aboutjustice business; and that he could not carry all the lawin hishead about stealing away daughtersand such sort of things.

 Here Mr. Fitzpatrick offered to lend him his assistanceinformingthecompany that he had been himself bred to the law. (And indeed hehad servedthree years as clerk to an attorney in the north ofIrelandwhenchusing a genteeler walk in lifehe quitted hismastercame over to Englandand set up that business whichrequiresno apprenticeshipnamelythat of a gentlemanin which hehadsucceededas hath been already partly mentioned.)

  Mr.Fitzpatrick declared that the law concerning daughters was outof thepresent case; that stealing a muff was undoubtedly felonyand thegoods being found upon the personwere sufficient evidence ofthe fact.

  Themagistrateupon the encouragement of so learned a coadjutorand uponthe violent intercession of the squirewas at lengthprevailedupon to seat himself in the chair of justicewhere beingplacedupon viewing the muff which Jones still held in his handand uponthe parson's swearing it to be the property of Mr. Westernhe desiredMr. Fitzpatrick to draw up a commitmentwhich he said hewouldsign.

 Jones now desired to be heardwhich was at lastwith difficultygrantedhim. He then produced the evidence of Mr. Partridgeas to thefindingit; butwhat was still moreSusan deposed that Sophiaherselfhad delivered the muff to herand had ordered her to conveyit intothe chamber where Mr. Jones had found it.

 Whether a natural love of justiceor the extraordinary comelinessof Joneshad wrought on Susan to make the discoveryI will notdetermine;but such were the effects of her evidencethat themagistratethrowing himself back in his chairdeclared that thematter wasnow altogether as clear on the side of the prisoner as ithad beforebeen against him. with which the parson concurredsayingthe Lord forbid he should be instrumental in committing aninnocentperson to durance. The justice then aroseacquitted theprisonerand broke up the court.

  Mr.Western now gave every one present a hearty curseandimmediatelyordering his horsesdeparted in pursuit of hisdaughterwithout taking the least notice of his nephew Fitzpatrickorreturning any answer to his claim of kindrednotwithstanding alltheobligations he had just received from that gentleman. In theviolencemoreoverof his hurryand of his passionhe luckilyforgot todemand the muff of Jones: I say luckily; for he would havedied onthe spot rather than have parted with it.

 Jones likewisewith his friend Partridgeset forward the moment hehad paidhis reckoningin quest of his lovely Sophiawhom he nowresolvednever more to abandon the pursuit of. Nor could he bringhimselfeven to take leave of Mrs. Waters; of whom he detested theverythoughtsas she had beenthough not designedlythe occasion ofhismissing the happiest interview with Sophia. to whom he now vowedeternalconstancy.

  Asfor Mrs. Watersshe took the opportunity of the coach whichwas goingto Bath; for which place she set out in company with the twoIrishgentlementhe landlady kindly lending her her cloaths; inreturn forwhich she was contented only to receive about doubletheirvalueas a recompence for the loan. Upon the road she wasperfectlyreconciled to Mr. Fitzpatrickwho was a very handsomefellowand indeed did all she could to console him in the absenceof hiswife.

 Thus ended the many odd adventures which Mr. Jones encountered athis inn atUptonwhere they talkto this dayof the beauty andlovelybehaviour of the charming Sophiaby the name of theSomersetshireangel.

Chapter8
In whichthe history goes backward

 Before we proceed any farther in our historyit may be proper tolook alittle backin order to account for the extraordinaryappearanceof Sophia and her father at the inn at Upton.

  Thereader may be pleased to remember thatin the ninth chapterof theseventh book of our historywe left Sophiaafter a longdebatebetween love and dutydeciding the causeas it usuallyIbelievehappensin favour of the former.

 This debate had arisenas we have there shownfrom a visit whichher fatherhad just before made herin order to force her consentto amarriage with Blifil; and which he had understood to be fullyimplied inher acknowledgment "that she neither must nor couldrefuse anyabsolute command of his."

  Nowfrom this visit the squire retired to his evening potationoverjoyedat the success he had gained with his daughter; andas hewas of asocial dispositionand willing to have partakers in hishappinessthe beer was ordered to flow very liberally into thekitchen;so that before eleven in the evening there was not a singlepersonsober in the house except only Mrs. Western herself and thecharmingSophia.

 Early in the morning a messenger was despatched to summon Mr.Blifil;forthough the squire imagined that young gentleman hadbeen muchless acquainted than he really was with the formeraversionof his daughteras he had nothoweveryet received herconsenthe longed impatiently to communicate it to himnotdoubtingbut that the intended bride herself would confirm it with herlips. Asto the weddingit had the evening before been fixedbythe malepartiesto be celebrated on the next morning save one.

 Breakfast was now set forth in the parlourwhere Mr. Blifilattendedand where the squire and his sister likewise were assembled;and nowSophia was ordered to be called.

  OShakespear! had I thy pen! OHogarth! had I thy pencil! thenwould Idraw the picture of the poor serving-manwhowith palecountenancestaring eyeschattering teethfaultering tongueandtremblinglimbs

    (E'en such a manso faintso spiritless
    So dullso dead in lookso woe-begone
    Drew Priam's curtains in the dead of night
    And would have told himhalf his Troy was burn'd)

enteredthe roomand declared- That Madam Sophia was not to be found.

 "Not to be found!" cries the squirestarting from hischair;"Zoundsand d--nation! Blood and fury! Wherewhenhowwhat- Not tobe found!Where?"

 "La! brother" said Mrs. Westernwith true politicalcoldness"youare alwaysthrowing yourself into such violent passions for nothing.My nieceI supposeis only walked out into the garden. I protest youare grownso unreasonablethat it is impossible to live in thehouse withyou."

 "Naynay" answered the squirereturning as suddenly tohimselfas he hadgone from himself; "if that be all the matteritsignifiesnot much; butupon my soulmy mind misgave me when thefellowsaid she was not to be found." He then gave orders for the bellto be rungin the gardenand sat himself contentedly down.

  Notwo things could be more the reverse of each other than werethebrother and sister in most instances; particularly in thisThatas thebrother never foresaw anything at a distancebut was mostsagaciousin immediately seeing everything the moment it had happened;so thesister eternally foresaw at a distancebut was not soquick-sightedto objects before her eyes. Of both these the reader mayhaveobserved examples: andindeedboth their several talents wereexcessive;foras the sister often foresaw what never came to passso thebrother often saw much more than was actually the truth.

 This was not however the case at present. The same report wasbroughtfrom the garden as before had been brought from the chamberthat MadamSophia was not to be found.

  Thesquire himself now sallied forthand began to roar forth thename ofSophia as loudlyand in as hoarse a voiceas whilome didHerculesthat of Hylas; andas the poet tells us that the whole shoreechoedback the name of that beautiful youthso did the housethegardenand all the neighbouring fields resound nothing but the nameof Sophiain the hoarse voices of the menand in the shrill pipes ofthe women;while echo seemed so pleased to repeat the beloved soundthatifthere is really such a personI believe Ovid hath belied hersex.

 Nothing reigned for a long time but confusion; till at last thesquirehaving sufficiently spent his breathreturned to the parlourwhere hefound Mrs. Western and Mr. Blifiland threw himselfwiththe utmostdejection in his countenanceinto a great chair.

 Here Mrs. Western began to apply the following consolation:

 "BrotherI am sorry for what hath happened; and that my nieceshouldhave behaved herself in a manner so unbecoming her family;but it isall your own doingsand you have nobody to thank butyourself.You know she hath been educated always in a mannerdirectlycontrary to my adviceand now you see the consequence.Have I nota thousand times argued with you about giving my nieceown will?But you know I never could prevail upon you; and when Ihad takenso much pains to eradicate her headstrong opinionsand torectifyyour errors in policyyou know she was taken out of my hands;so that Ihave nothing to answer for. Had I been trusted entirely withthe careof her educationno such accident as this had everbefallenyou; so that you must comfort yourself by thinking it was allyour owndoing; andindeedwhat else could be expected from suchindulgence?"--

 "Zounds! sister" answered he"you are enough to makeone mad. HaveI indulgedher? Have I given her her will?-- It was no longer ago thanlast nightthat I threatenedif she disobeyed meto confine her toherchamber upon bread and water as long as she lived.-You wouldprovokethe patience of job."

 "Did ever mortal hear the like?" replied she. "Brotherif I had notthepatience of fifty jobsyou would make me forget all decency anddecorum.Why would you interfere? Did I not beg youdid I not intreatyoutoleave the whole conduct to me? You have defeated all theoperationsof the campaign by one false step. Would any man in hissenseshave provoked a daughter by such threats as these? How oftenhave Itold you that English women are not to be treated likeCiracessianslaves? We have the protection of the world; we are to bewon bygentle means onlyand not to be hectoredand bulliedandbeat intocompliance. I thank Heaven no Salique law governs here.Brotheryou have a roughness in your manner which no woman but myselfwouldbear. I do not wonder my niece was frightened and terrified intotakingthis measure; andto speak honestlyI think my niece willbejustified to the world for what she hath done. I repeat it to youagainbrotheryou must comfort yourself by rememb'ring that it isall yourown fault. How often have I advised-" Here Western rosehastilyfrom his chairand venting two or three horridimprecationsran out of the room.

 When he was departedhis sister expressed more bitterness (ifpossible)against him than she had done while he was present; forthe truthof which she appealed to Mr. Blifilwhowith greatcomplacenceacquiesced entirely in all she said; but excused allthe faultsof Mr. Western"as they must be considered" he said"tohave proceeded from the too inordinate fondness of a fatherwhichmust beallowed the name of an amiable weakness."

"So much the moreinexcuseable"answered the lady; "for whom doth he ruin by hisfondnessbut his own child?" To which Blifil immediately agreed.

 Mrs. Western then began to express great confusion on the account ofMr.Blifiland of the usage which he had received from a family towhich heintended so much honour. On this subject she treated thefolly ofher niece with great severity; but concluded with throwingthe wholeon her brotherwhoshe saidwas inexcuseable to haveproceededso far without better assurances of his daughter'sconsent:"But he was (says she) always of a violentheadstrongtemper;and I can scarce forgive myself for all the advice I havethrownaway upon him."

 After much of this kind of conversationwhichperhapswould notgreatlyentertain the readerwas it here particularly relatedMr.Blifiltook his leave and returned homenot highly pleased with hisdisappointment:whichhoweverthe philosophy which he had acquiredfromSquareand the religion infused into him by Thwackumtogetherwithsomewhat elsetaught him to bear rather better than morepassionatelovers bear these kinds of evils.

Chapter9
The escapeof Sophia

  Itis now time to look after Sophia; whom the readerif he lovesher halfso well as I dowill rejoice to find escaped from theclutchesof her passionate fatherand from those of her dispassionatelover.

 Twelve times did the iron register of time beat on the sonorousbell-metalsummoning the ghosts to rise and walk their nightlyround.--In plainer languageit was twelve o'clockand all thefamilyaswe have saidlay buried in drink and sleepexcept onlyMrs.Westernwho was deeply engaged in reading a political pamphletand exceptour heroinewho now softly stole downstairsandhavingunbarredand unlocked one of the house-doorssallied forthandhastenedto the place of appointment.

 Notwithstanding the many pretty arts which ladies sometimespractiseto display their fears on every little occasion (almost asmany asthe other sex uses to conceal theirs)certainly there is adegree ofcourage which not only becomes a womanbut is oftennecessaryto enable her to discharge her duty. It isindeedthe ideaoffiercenessand not of braverywhich destroys the femalecharacter;for who can read the story of the justly celebrated Arriawithoutconceiving as high an opinion of her gentleness and tendernessas of herfortitude? At the same timeperhapsmany a woman whoshrieks ata mouseor a ratmay be capable of poisoning a husband;orwhatis worseof driving him to poison himself.

 Sophiawith all the gentleness which a woman can havehad allthe spiritwhich she ought to have. Whenthereforeshe came to theplace ofappointmentandinstead of meeting her maidas was agreedsaw a manride directly up to hershe neither screamed out norfaintedaway: not that her pulse then beat with its usualregularity;for she wasat firstunder some surprize andapprehension:but these were relieved almost as soon as raisedwhenthe manpulling off his hatasked herin a very submissivemanner"If her ladyship did not expect to meet another lady?" andthenproceeded to inform her that he was sent to conduct her to thatlady.

 Sophia could have no possible suspicion of any falsehood in thisaccount:she therefore mounted resolutely behind the fellowwhoconveyedher safe to a town about five miles distantwhere she hadthesatisfaction of finding the good Mrs. Honour: foras the soulof thewaiting-woman was wrapt up in those very habiliments which usedto enwrapher bodyshe could by no means bring herself to trustthem outof her sight. Upon thesethereforeshe kept guard inpersonwhile she detached the aforesaid fellow after her mistresshavinggiven him all proper instructions.

 They now debated what course to takein order to avoid thepursuit ofMr. Westernwho they knew would send after them in a fewhours. TheLondon road had such charms for Honourthat she wasdesirousof going on directly; alleging thatas Sophia could not bemissedtill eight or nine the next morningher pursuers would notbe able toovertake hereven though they knew which way she had gone.But Sophiahad too much at stake to venture anything to chance; nordid shedare trust too much to her tender limbsin a contest whichwas to bedecided only by swiftness. She resolvedthereforetotravelacross the countryfor at least twenty or thirty milesandthen totake the direct road to London. Sohaving hired horses togo twentymiles one waywhen she intended to go twenty miles theothersheset forward with the same guide behind whom she hadriddenfrom her father's house; the guide having now taken up behindhiminthe room of Sophiaa much heavieras well as much lesslovelyburden; beingindeeda huge portmanteauwell stuffed withthoseoutside ornamentsby means of which the fair Honour hoped togain manyconquestsandfinallyto make her fortune in London city.

 When they had gone about two hundred paces from the inn on theLondonroadSophia rode up to the guideandwith a voice muchfuller ofhoney than was ever that of Platothough his mouth issupposedto have been a bee-hivebegged him to take the first turningwhich ledtowards Bristol.

 ReaderI am not superstitiousnor any great believer of modernmiracles.I do notthereforedeliver the following as a certaintruth;forindeedI can scarce credit it myself: but the fidelity ofanhistorian obliges me to relate what hath been confidently asserted.The horsethenon which the guide rodeis reported to have beenso charmedby Sophia's voicethat he made a full stopandexpressedan unwillingness to proceed any farther.

 Perhapshoweverthe fact may be trueand less miraculous thanit hathbeen represented; since the natural cause seems adequate totheeffect: foras the guide at that moment desisted from aconstantapplication of his armed right heel (forlike Hudibrashewore butone spur)it is more than possible that this omissionalonemight occasion the beast to stopespecially as this was veryfrequentwith him at other times.

  Butif the voice of Sophia had really an effect on the horseit hadverylittle on the rider. He answered somewhat surlily"Thatmeasterhad ordered him to go a different wayand that he should losehis placeif he went any other than that he was ordered."

 Sophiafinding all her persuasions had no effectbegan now toaddirresistible charms to her voice; charms whichaccording to theproverbmakes the old mare trotinstead of standing still; charms towhichmodern ages have attributed all that irresistible force whichtheantients imputed to perfect oratory. In a wordshe promised shewouldreward him to his utmost expectation.

  Thelad was not totally deaf to these promises; but he dislikedtheirbeing indefinite; forthough perhaps he had never heard thatwordyetthatin factwas his objection. He said"Gentlevolksdid notconsider the case of poor volks; that he had like to have beenturnedaway the other dayfor riding about the country with agentlemanfrom Squire Allworthy'swho did not reward him as he shouldhavedone."

 "With whom?" says Sophia eagerly. "With a gentlemanfrom SquireAllworthy's"repeated the lad; "the squire's sonI think they call'un."

"Whither? which way did he go?" says Sophia.

"Whyalittle o'one sideo' Bristolabout twenty miles off" answered the lad. "Guideme"says Sophia"to the same placeand I'll give thee a guineaor twoifone is not sufficient."

"To be certain" said theboy"itis honestly worth twowhen your ladyship considers what a riskI run;buthoweverif your ladyship will promise me the two guineasI'll e'enventure: to be certain it is a sinful thing to ride about mymeaster'shorses; but one comfort isI can only be turned awayandtwoguineas will partly make me amends."

  Thebargain being thus struckthe lad turned aside into the BristolroadandSophia set forward in pursuit of Joneshighly contrary totheremonstrances of Mrs. Honourwho had much more desire to seeLondonthan to see Mr. Jones: for indeed she was not his friend withhermistressas he had been guilty of some neglect in certainpecuniarycivilitieswhich are by custom due to thewaiting-gentlewomanin all love affairsand more especially inthose of aclandestine kind. This we impute rather to the carelessnessof histemper than to any want of generosity; but perhaps shederived itfrom the latter motive. Certain it is that she hated himverybitterly on that accountand resolved to take everyopportunityof injuring him with her mistress. It was therefore highlyunluckyfor herthat she had gone to the very same town and innwhenceJones had startedand still more unlucky was she in havingstumbledon the same guideand on this accidental discovery whichSophia hadmade.

  Ourtravellers arrived at Hambrook at the breakof daywhereHonour wasagainst her will charged to enquire the route which Mr.Jones hadtaken. Of thisindeedthe guide himself could haveinformedthem; but SophiaI know not for what reasonnever asked himthequestion.

 When Mrs. Honour had made her report from the landlordSophiawithmuchdifficultyprocured some indifferent horseswhich brought herto the innwhere Jones had been confined rather by the misfortune ofmeetingwith a surgeon than by having met with a broken head.

 Here Honourbeing again charged with a commission of enquiryhadno soonerapplied herself to the landladyand had described theperson ofMr. Jonesthan that sagacious woman beganin the vulgarphrasetosmell a rat. When Sophia therefore entered the roominstead ofanswering the maidthe landladyaddressing herself to themistressbegan the following speech: "Good lack-a-day! why there nowwho wouldhave thought it? I protest the loveliest couple that evereyebeheld. I-fackinsmadamit is no wonder the squire run on soabout yourladyship. He told me indeed you was the finest lady inthe worldand to be sure so you be. Mercy on himpoor heart! Ibepitiedhimso I didwhen he used to hug his pillowand call ithis dearMadam Sophia. I did all I could to dissuade him from going tothe wars:I told him there were men enow that were good for nothingelse butto be killedthat had not the love of such fine ladies."

"Sure"says Sophia"the good woman is distracted."

"Nono"criesthelandlady"I am not distracted. Whatdoth your ladyship think Idon't knowthen? I assure you he told me all."

"What saucy fellow"criesHonour"told you anything of my lady?"

"No saucyfellow"answeredthe landlady"but the young gentleman you enquired afterand a verypretty young gentleman he isand he loves Madam SophiaWestern tothe bottom of his soul."

"He love my lady! I'd have youto knowwomanshe is meat for his master."

"NayHonour"saidSophiainterrupting her"don't be angry with the good woman; sheintends noharm."

"Nomarrydon't I" answered the landladyemboldenedby the soft accents of Sophia; and then launched into alongnarrative too tedious to be here set downin which some passagesdropt thatgave a little offence to Sophiaand much more to herwaiting-womanwho hence took occasion to abuse poor Jones to hermistressthe moment they were alone togethersaying"that he must bea verypitiful fellowand could have no love for a ladywhose namehe wouldthus prostitute in an ale house."

 Sophia did not see his behaviour in so very disadvantageous a lightand wasperhaps more pleased with the violent raptures of his love(which thelandlady exaggerated as much as she had done every othercircumstance)than she was offended with the rest; and indeed sheimputedthe whole to the extravaganceor rather ebullienceof hispassionand to the openness of his heart.

 This incidenthoweverbeing afterwards revived in her mindandplaced inthe most odious colours by Honourserved to heighten andgivecredit to those unlucky occurrences at Uptonand assisted thewaiting-womanin her endeavours to make her mistress depart fromthat innwithout seeing Jones.

  Thelandlady finding Sophia intended to stay no longer than till herhorseswere readyand that without either eating or drinkingsoonwithdrew;when Honour began to take her mistress to task (for indeedshe usedgreat freedom)and after a long haranguein which sheremindedher of her intention to go to Londonand gave frequent hintsof theimpropriety of pursuing a young fellowshe at last concludedwith thisserious exhortation: "For heaven's sakemadamconsiderwhat youare aboutand whither you are going."

 This advice to a lady who had already rode near forty milesandin no veryagreeable seasonmay seem foolish enough. It may besupposedshe had well considered and resolved this already; nayMrs.Honourby the hints she threw outseemed to think so; andthis Idoubt not is the opinion of many readerswho haveI make nodoubtbeen long since well convinced of the purpose of our heroineand haveheartily condemned her for it as a wanton baggage.

  Butin reality this was not the case. Sophia had been lately sodistractedbetween hope and fearher duty and love to her fatherherhatred toBlifilher compassionand (why should we not confess thetruth?)her love for Jones; which last the behaviour of her fatherofher auntof every one elseand more particularly of Jones himselfhad blowninto a flamethat her mind was in that confused state whichmay betruly said to make us ignorant of what we door whither we goor ratherindeedindifferent as to the consequence of either.

  Theprudent and sage advice of her maid producedhoweversome coolreflection;and she at length determined to go to Gloucesterandthence toproceed directly to London.

 Butunluckilya few miles before she entered that townshe metthehack-attorneywhoas is before mentionedhad dined there withMr. Jones.This fellowbeing well known to Mrs. Honourstopt andspoke toher; of which Sophia at that time took little noticemorethan toenquire who he was.

 Buthaving had a more particular account from Honour of this manafterwardsat Gloucesterand hearing of the great expedition heusuallymade in travellingfor which (as hath been before observed)he wasparticularly famous; recollectinglikewisethat she hadoverheardMrs. Honour inform him that they were going to Gloucestershe beganto fear lest her father mightby this fellow's meansbeable totrace her to that city; whereforeif she should therestrikeinto the London roadshe apprehended he would certainly beable toovertake her. She therefore altered her resolution; andhavinghired horses to go a week's journey a way which she did notintend totravelshe again set forward after a light refreshmentcontraryto the desire and earnest entreaties of her maidand tothe noless vehement remonstrances of Mrs. Whitefieldwhofromgoodbreedingor perhaps from good nature (for the poor young ladyappearedmuch fatigued)pressed her very heartily to stay thatevening atGloucester.

 Having refreshed herself only with some teaand with lying abouttwo hoursthe bedwhile her horses were getting readyshe resolutelyleft Mrs.Whitefield's about eleven at nightandstriking directlyinto theWorcester roadwithin less than four hours arrived at thatvery innwhere we last saw her.

 Having thus traced our heroine very particularly back from herdeparturetill her arrival at Uptonwe shall in a very few wordsbring herfather to the same place; whohaving received the firstscent fromthe post-boywho conducted his daughter to Hambrookveryeasily traced her afterwards to Gloucester; whence he pursued herto Uptonas he had learned Mr. Jones had taken that route (forPartridgeto use the squire's expressionleft everywhere a strongscentbehind him)and he doubted not in the least but Sophiatravelledoras he phrased itranthe same way. He used indeed averycoarse expressionwhich need not be here inserted; asfox-hunterswho alone will understand itwill easily suggest it tothemselves.

BOOK XICONTAININGABOUT THREE DAYS

Chapter1
A crustfor the critics

  Inour last initial chapter we may be supposed to have treatedthatformidable set of men who are called critics with more freedomthanbecomes us; since they exactand indeed generally receivegreatcondescensionfrom authors. We shall in thisthereforegive thereasons ofour conduct to this august body; and here we shallperhapsplace them in a light in which they have not hitherto beenseen.

 This word critic is of Greek derivationand signifies judgment.Hence Ipresume some persons who have not understood the originalandhave seenthe English translation of the primitivehave concludedthat itmeant judgment in the legal sensein which it is frequentlyused asequivalent to condemnation.

  Iam rather inclined to be of that opinionas the greatest numberof criticshath of late years been found amongst the lawyers. Manyof thesegentlemenfrom despairperhapsof ever rising to the benchinWestminster-hallhave placed themselves on the benches at theplayhousewhere they have exerted their judicial capacityand havegivenjudgmenti.e.condemned without mercy.

  Thegentlemen wouldperhapsbe well enough pleasedif we wereto leavethem thus compared to one of the most important andhonourableoffices in the commonwealthandif we intended to applyto theirfavourwe would do so; butas we design to deal verysincerelyand plainly too with themwe must remind them of anotherofficer ofjustice of much lower rank; to whom as they not onlypronouncebut executetheir own judgmentthey bear likewise someremoteresemblance.

  Butin reality there is another lightin which these modern criticsmaywithgreat justice and proprietybe seen; and this is that ofa commonslanderer. If a person who prys into the characters ofotherswith no other design but to discover their faultsand topublishthem to the worlddeserves the title of a slanderer of thereputationsof menwhy should not a criticwho reads with the samemalevolentviewbe as properly stiled the slanderer of the reputationof books?

 Vice hath notI believea more abject slave; society producesnot a moreodious vermin; nor can the devil receive a guest moreworthy ofhimnor possibly more welcome to himthan a slanderer. TheworldIam afraidregards not this monster with half theabhorrencewhich he deserves; and I am more afraid to assign thereason ofthis criminal lenity shown towards him; yet it is certainthat thethief looks innocent in the comparison; naythe murdererhimselfcan seldom stand in competition with his guilt: for slander isa morecruel weapon than a swordas the wounds which the former givesare alwaysincurable. One methodindeedthere is of killingandthat thebasest and most execrable of allwhich bears an exactanalogy tothe vice here disclaimed againstand that is poison: ameans ofrevenge so baseand yet so horriblethat is was once wiselydistinguishedby our laws from all other murdersin the peculiarseverityof the punishment.

 Besides the dreadful mischiefs done by slanderand the basenessof themeans by which they are effectedthere are other circumstancesthathighly aggravate its atrocious quality; for it often proceedsfrom noprovocationand seldom promises itself any rewardunlesssome blackinfernal mind may propose a reward in the thoughts ofhavingprocured the ruin and misery of another.

 Shakespear hath nobly touched this vicewhen he says-

    Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis somethingnothing;
    'Twas mine'tis hisand hath been slave to thousands:
   

 But he that filches from me my good name
    Robs me of that which not enriches him
    But makes me poor indeed.

 With all this my good reader will doubtless agree; but much of itwillprobably seem too severewhen applied to the slanderer of books.But let ithere be considered that both proceed from the same wickeddispositionof mindand are alike void of the excuse of temptation.Nor shallwe conclude the injury done this way to be very slightwhenweconsider a book as the author's offspringand indeed as thechild ofhis brain.

  Thereader who hath suffered his muse to continue hitherto in avirginstate can have but a very inadequate idea of this kind ofpaternalfondness. To such we may parody the tender exclamation ofMacduff"Alas! Thou hast written no book." But the author whosemuse hathbrought forth will feel the pathetic strainperhaps willaccompanyme with tears (especially if his darling be already nomore)while I mention the uneasiness with which the big muse bearsabout herburdenthe painful labour with which she produces itandlastlythe carethe fondnesswith which the tender father nourisheshisfavouritetill it be brought to maturityand produced into theworld.

  Noris there any paternal fondness which seems less to savour ofabsoluteinstinctand which may so well be reconciled to worldlywisdomasthis. These children may most truly be called the riches oftheirfather; and many of them have with true filial piety fed theirparent inhis old age: so that not only the affectionbut theinterestof the author may be highly injured by these slandererswhosepoisonous breath brings his book to an untimely end.

 Lastlythe slander of a book isin truththe slander of theauthor:foras no one can call another bastardwithout calling themother awhoreso neither can any one give the names of sad stuffhorridnonsense&c.to a bookwithout calling the author ablockhead;whichthough in a moral sense it is a preferableappellationto that of villainis perhaps rather more injurious tohisworldly interest.

 Nowhowever ludicrous all this may appear to someothersIdoubt notwill feel and acknowledge the truth of it; naymayperhapsthink I have not treated the subject with decent solemnity;but surelya man may speak truth with a smiling countenance. Inrealityto depreciate a book maliciouslyor even wantonlyis atleast avery ill-natured office; and a morose snarling critic mayIbelievebe suspected to be a bad man.

  Iwill therefore endeavourin the remaining part of this chapterto explainthe marks of this characterand to show what criticism Ihereintend to obviate: for I can never be understoodunless by theverypersons here meantto insinuate that there are no properjudges ofwritingor to endeavour to exclude from the commonwealth ofliteratureany of those noble critics to whose labours the learnedworld areso greatly indebted. Such were AristotleHoraceandLonginusamong the antientsDacier and Bossu among the Frenchandsomeperhaps among us; who have certainly been duly authorized toexecute atleast a judicial authority in foro literario.

  Butwithout ascertaining all the proper qualifications of acriticwhich I have touched on elsewhereI think I may very boldlyobject tothe censures of any one past upon works which he hath nothimselfread. Such censurers as thesewhether they speak from theirown guessor suspicionor from the report and opinion of othersmayproperly be said to slander the reputation of the book theycondemn.

 Such may likewise be suspected of deserving this characterwhowithoutassigning any particular faultscondemn the whole ingeneraldefamatory terms; such as viledulld--d stuff&c.andparticularlyby the use of the monosyllable low; a word whichbecomesthe mouth of no critic who is not RIGHT HONOURABLE.

 Againthough there may be some faults justly assigned in theworkyetif those are not in the most essential partsor if theyarecompensated by greater beautiesit will savour rather of themalice ofa slanderer than of the judgment of a true critic to passa severesentence upon the wholemerely on account of some viciouspart. Thisis directly contrary to the sentiments of Horace:

    Verum ubi plura nitent in carminenon ego paucis
    Offendor maculisquas aut incuria fudit
    Aut humana parum cavit natura--
 
 But where the beautiesmore in numbershine
 I am not angrywhen a casual line
 (That with some trivial faults unequal flows)
 A careless hand or human frailty shows.

                                      MR. FRANCIS

 Foras Martial saysAliter non fitAviteliber. No book can beotherwisecomposed. All beauty of characteras well as ofcountenanceand indeed of everything humanis to be tried in thismanner.Cruel indeed would it be if such a work as this historywhichhathemployed some thousands of hours in the composingshould beliable tobe condemnedbecause some particular chapteror perhapschaptersmay be obnoxious to very just and sensible objections. Andyetnothing is more common than the most rigorous sentence uponbookssupported by such objectionswhichif they were rightlytaken (andthat they are not always)do by no means go to the meritof thewhole. In the theatre especiallya single expression whichdoth notcoincide with the taste of the audienceor with anyindividualcritic of that audienceis sure to be hissed; and onescenewhich should be disapproved would hazard the whole piece. Towritewithin such severe rules as these is as impossible as to live upto somesplenetic opinions: and if we judge according to thesentimentsof some criticsand of some Christiansno author willbe savedin this worldand no man in the next.

Chapter2
Theadventures which Sophia met with after her leaving Upton

  Ourhistoryjust before it was obliged to turn about and travelbackwardshad mentioned the departure of Sophia and her maid from theinn; weshall now therefore pursue the steps of that lovelycreatureand leave her unworthy lover a little longer to bemoan hisill-luckor rather his ill-conduct.

 Sophia having directed her guide to travel through bye-roadsacrossthecountrythey now passed the Severnand had scarce got a milefrom theinnwhen the young ladylooking behind hersaw severalhorsescoming after on full speed. This greatly alarmed her fearsandshe calledto the guide to put on as fast as possible.

  Heimmediately obeyed herand away they rode a full gallop. But thefasterthey wentthe faster were they followed; and as the horsesbehindwere somewhat swifter than those beforeso the former wereat lengthovertaken. A happy circumstance for poor Sophia; whosefearsjoined to her fatiguehad almost overpowered her spirits;but shewas now instantly relieved by a female voicethat greeted herin thesoftest mannerand with the utmost civility. This greetingSophiaassoon as she could recover her breathwith like civilityand withthe highest satisfaction to herselfreturned.

  Thetravellers who joined Sophiaand who had given her such terrorconsistedlike her own companyof two females and a guide. The twopartiesproceeded three full miles together before any one offeredagain toopen their mouths; when our heroinehaving pretty well gotthe betterof her fear (but yet being somewhat surprized that theotherstill continued to attend heras she pursued no great roadandhadalready passed through several turnings)accosted the strangelady in amost obliging toneand said"She was very happy to findthey wereboth travelling the same way." The otherwholike a ghostonlywanted to be spoke toreadily answered"That the happinesswasentirely hers; that she was a perfect stranger in that countryand was sooverjoyed at meeting a companion of her own sexthat shehadperhaps been guilty of an impertinencewhich required greatapologyin keeping pace with her." More civilities passed betweenthese twoladies; for Mrs. Honour had now given place to the finehabit ofthe strangerand had fallen into the rear. ButthoughSophia hadgreat curiosity to know why the other lady continued totravel onthrough the same bye-roads with herselfnaythough thisgave hersome uneasinessyet fearor modestyor some otherconsiderationrestrained her from asking the question.

  Thestrange lady now laboured under a difficulty which appearsalmostbelow the dignity of history to mention. Her bonnet had beenblown fromher head not less than five times within the last mile; norcould shecome at any ribbon or handkerchief to tie it under her chin.WhenSophia was informed of thisshe immediately supplied her withahandkerchief for this purpose; which while she was pulling fromherpocketshe perhaps too much neglected the management of herhorseforthe beastnow unluckily making a false stepfell upon hisfore-legsand threw his fair rider from his back.

 Though Sophia came head foremost to the groundshe happily receivednot theleast damage: and the same circumstances which had perhapscontributedto her fall now preserved her from confusion; for the lanewhich theywere then passing was narrowand very much overgrownwithtreesso that the moon could here afford very little lightand wasmoreoverat presentso obscured in a cloudthat it wasalmostperfectly dark. By these means the young lady's modestywhich wasextremely delicateescaped as free from injury as herlimbsandshe was once more reinstated in her saddlehaving receivedno otherharm than a little fright by her fall.

 Daylight at length appeared in its full lustre; and now the twoladieswho were riding over a common side by sidelooking stedfastlyat eachotherat the same moment both their eyes became fixed; boththeirhorses stoptandboth speaking togetherwith equal joypronouncedthe one the name of Sophiathe other that of Harriet.

 This unexpected encounter surprized the ladies much more than Ibelieve itwill the sagacious readerwho must have imagined thatthestrange lady could be no other than Mrs. Fitzpatrickthe cousinof MissWesternwhom we before mentioned to have sallied from the inna fewminutes after her.

  Sogreat was the surprize and joy which these two cousinsconceivedat this meeting (for they had formerly been most intimateacquaintanceand friendsand had long lived together with theirauntWestern)that it is impossible to recount half thecongratulationswhich passed between thembefore either asked averynatural question of the othernamelywhither she was going?

 This at lasthowevercame first from Mrs. Fitzpatrick; buteasyandnatural as the question may seemSophia found it difficult togive it avery ready and certain answer. She begged her cousinthereforeto suspend all curiosity till they arrived at some inn"whichI suppose" says she"can hardly be far distant; andbelievemeHarrietI suspend as much curiosity on my side; forindeedIbelieve our astonishment is pretty equal."

  Theconversation which passed between these ladies on the roadwasIapprehendlittle worth relating; and less certainly was thatbetweenthe two waiting-women; for they likewise began to pay theircomplimentsto each other. As for the guidesthey were debarredfrom thepleasure of discoursethe one being placed in the vanandthe otherobliged to bring up the rear.

  Inthis posture they travelled many hourstill they came into awide andwell-beaten roadwhichas they turned to the rightsoonbroughtthem to a very fair promising innwhere they all alighted:but sofatigued was Sophiathat as she had sat her horse during thelast fiveor six miles with great difficultyso was she now incapableofdismounting from him without assistance. This the landlordwho hadhold ofher horsepresently perceivingoffered to lift her in hisarms fromher saddle; and she too readily accepted the tender of hisservice.Indeed fortune seems to have resolved to put Sophia to theblush thatdayand the second malicious attempt succeeded better thanthe first;for my landlord had no sooner received the young lady inhis armsthan his feetwhich the gout had lately very severelyhandledgave wayand down he tumbled; butat the same timewith nolessdexterity than gallantrycontrived to throw himself under hischarmingburdenso that he alone received any bruise from the fall;for thegreat injury which happened to Sophia was a violent shockgiven toher modesty by an immoderate grinwhichat her risingfrom thegroundshe observed in the countenances of most of thebye-standers.This made her suspect what had really happenedand whatwe shallnot here relatefor the indulgence of those readers whoarecapable of laughing at the offence given to a young lady'sdelicacy.Accidents of this kind we have never regarded in a comicallight; norwill we scruple to saythat he must have a very inadequateidea ofthe modesty of a beautiful young womanwho would wish tosacrificeit to so paltry a satisfaction as can arise from laughter.

 This fright and shockjoined to the violent fatigue which bothher mindand body had undergonealmost overcame the excellentconstitutionof Sophiaand she had scarce strength sufficient tototterinto the innleaning on the arm of her maid. Here she was nosoonerseated than she called for a glass of water; but Mrs. Honourveryjudiciouslyin my opinionchanged it into a glass of wine.

 Mrs. Fitzpatrickhearing from Mrs. Honour that Sophia had notbeen inbed during the two last nightsand observing her to look verypale andwan with her fatigueearnestly entreated her to refreshherselfwith some sleep. She was yet a stranger to her historyor herapprehensions;buthad she known bothshe would have given thesameadvice; for rest was visibly necessary for her; and their longjourneythrough bye-roads so entirely removed all danger of pursuitthat shewas herself perfectly easy on that account.

 Sophia was easily prevailed on to follow the counsel of herfriendwhich was heartily seconded by her maid. Mrs. Fitzpatricklikewiseoffered to bear her cousin companywhich Sophiawith muchcomplacenceaccepted.

  Themistress was no sooner in bed than the maid prepared to followherexample. She began to make many apologies to her sister Abigailforleaving her alone in so horrid a place as an inn; but the otherstopt hershortbeing as well inclined to a nap as herselfanddesiredthe honour of being her bedfellow. Sophia's maid agreed togive her ashare of her bedbut put in her claim to all the honour.Soaftermany courtsies and complimentsto bed together went thewaiting-womenas their mistresses had done before them.

  Itwas usual with my landlord (as indeed it is with the wholefraternity)to enquire particularly of all coachmenfootmenpost-boysand othersinto the names of all his guests; what theirestatewasand where it lay. It cannot therefore be wondered atthatthe manyparticular circumstances which attended our travellersandespeciallytheir retiring all to sleep at so extraordinary and unusualan hour asten in the morningshould excite his curiosity. As soonthereforeas the guides entered the kitchenhe began to examine whothe ladieswereand whence they came; but the guidesthough theyfaithfullyrelated all they knewgave him very little satisfaction.On thecontrarythey rather enflamed his curiosity than extinguishedit.

 This landlord had the characteramong all his neighboursofbeing avery sagacious fellow. He was thought to see farther anddeeperinto things than any man in the parishthe parson himselfnotexcepted. Perhaps his look had contributed not a little to procurehim thisreputation; for there was in this something wonderfullywise andsignificantespecially when he had a pipe in his mouth;whichindeedhe seldom was without. His behaviourlikewisegreatlyassistedin promoting the opinion of his wisdom. In his deportmenthe wassolemnif not sullen; and when he spokewhich was seldomhe alwaysdelivered himself in a slow voice; andthough sentenceswereshortthey were still interrupted with many hums and ha'sayaysandother expletives: so thatthough he accompanied his wordswithcertain explanatory gesturessuch as shaking or nodding theheadorpointing with his fore-fingerhe generally left hishearers tounderstand more than he expressed; nayhe commonly gavethem ahint that he knew much more than he thought proper to disclose.This lastcircumstance alone mayindeedvery well account for hischaracterof wisdom; since men are strangely inclined to worshipwhat theydo not understand. A grand secretupon which severalimposerson mankind have totally relied for the success of theirfrauds.

 This polite personnow taking his wife asideasked her "whatshethought ofthe ladies lately arrived?"

"Think of them?" said thewifewhywhatshould I think of them?"

"I know" answered he"whatIthink. Theguides tell strange stories. One pretends to be come fromGloucesterand the other from Upton; and neither of themfor whatI canfindcan tell whither they are going. But what people evertravelacross the country from Upton hitherespecially to London? Andone of themaidservantsbefore she alighted from her horseaskedif thiswas not the London road? Now I have put all thesecircumstancestogetherand whom do you think I have found them out tobe?"

"Nay" answered she"you know I never pretend toguess at yourdiscoveries."-

"It is a good girl" replied hechucking her underthe chin;"I must own you have always submitted to my knowledge ofthesematters. Whythendepend upon it; mind what I say- dependupon itthey are certainly some of the rebel ladieswhothey saytravelwith the young Chevalier; and have taken a round-about way toescape theduke's army."

 "Husband" quoth the wife" you have certainly hit it;for one ofthem isdressed as fine as any princess; andto be sureshe looksfor allthe world like one.-- But yetwhen I consider one thing"-

"Whenyou consider" cries the landlord contemptuously-

"Comepraylet's hearwhat you consider."-

"Whyit is" answered the wife"thatshe is too humble to be any very great lady: forwhile ourBetty waswarming the bedshe called her nothing but childand mydearandsweetheart; andwhen Betty offered to pull off her shoesandstockingsshe would not suffer hersayingshe would not giveher thetrouble."

 "Pugh!" answered the husband"that is nothing. Dostthinkbecauseyou have seen some great ladies rude and uncivil to personsbelowthemthat none of them know how to behave themselves whenthey comebefore their inferiors? I think I know people of fashionwhen I seethem- I think I do. Did not she call for a glass of waterwhen shecame in? Another sort of women would have called for adram; youknow they would. If she be not a woman of very greatqualitysell me for a fool; andI believethose who buy me willhave a badbargain. Nowwould a woman of her quality travel without afootmanunless upon some such extraordinary occasion?"

"Nayto besurehusband" cries she"you know these matters better than Iormostfolk."

"I think I do know something" said he. "Tobe sure"answeredthe wife"the poor little heart looked so piteouswhenshe satdown in the chairI protest I could not help having acompassionfor her almost as much as if she had been a poor body.But what'sto be donehusband? If an she be a rebelI suppose youintend tobetray her up to the court. Wellshe's a sweet-temperedgood-humouredladybe she what she willand I shall hardly refrainfromcrying when I hear she is hanged or beheaded."

"Pooh!"answeredthehusband.-

"Butas to what's to be doneit is not so easy amatter todetermine. I hopebefore she goes awaywe shall have thenews of abattle; forif the Chevalier should get the bettershe maygain usinterest at courtand make our fortunes without betrayingher."

"Whythat's true" replied the wife; "and I heartilyhope shewill haveit in her power. Certainly she's a sweet good lady; it wouldgohorribly against me to have her come to any harm."

"Pooh!"criesthelandlord"women are always so tenderhearted. Whyyou would notharbourrebelswould you?"

"Nocertainly" answered thewife; "andas forbetraying hercome what will on'tnobody can blame us. Itis whatanybody would do in our case."

 While our politic landlordwho had notwe seeundeservedly thereputationof great wisdom among his neighbourswas engaged indebatingthis matter with himself (for he paid little attention to theopinion ofhis wife)news arrived that the rebels had given theduke theslipand had got a day's march towards London; and soonafterarrived a famous Jacobite squirewhowith great joy in hiscountenanceshook the landlord by the handsaying"All's our ownboytenthousand honest Frenchmen are landed in Suffolk. OldEnglandfor ever! ten thousand Frenchmy brave lad! I am going to tapawaydirectly."

 This news determined the opinion of the wise manand he resolved tomake hiscourt to the young lady when she arose; for he had now (hesaid)discovered that she was no other than Madam Jenny Cameronherself.

Chapter3
A veryshort chapterin which however is a Suna Moona Starandan Angel

  Thesun (for he keeps very good hours at this time of the year)had beensome time retired to restwhen Sophia arose greatlyrefreshedby her sleep; whichshort as it wasnothing but herextremefatigue could have occasioned; forthough she had told hermaidandperhaps herself toothat she was perfectly easy when sheleftUptonyet it is certain her mind was a little affected with thatmaladywhich is attended with all the restless symptoms of a feverand isperhaps the very distemper which physicians mean (if theymeananything) by the fever on the spirits.

 Mrs. Fitzpatrick likewise left her bed at the same time; andhavingsummonedher maidimmediately dressed herself. She was really averypretty womanandhad she been in any other company but thatSophiamight have been thought beautiful; but when Mrs. Honour of herown accordattended (for her mistress would not suffer her to bewaked)and had equipped our heroinethe charms of Mrs.Fitzpatrickwho had performed the office of the morning-starand hadprecededgreater gloriesshared the fate of that starand weretotallyeclipsed the moment those glories shone forth.

 Perhaps Sophia never looked more beautiful than she did at thisinstant.We ought notthereforeto condemn the maid of the inn forherhyperbolewhowhen she descendedafter having lighted the firedeclaredand ratified it with an oaththat if ever there was anangel uponearthshe was now above-stairs.

 Sophia had acquainted her cousin with her design to go to London;and Mrs.Fitzpatrick had agreed to accompany her; for the arrival ofherhusband at Upton had put an end to her design of going to Bathorto heraunt Western. They had therefore no sooner finished theirteathanSophia proposed to set outthe moon then shiningextremelybrightand as for the frost she defied it; nor had sheany ofthose apprehensions which many young ladies would have feltattravelling by night; for she hadas we have before observedsomelittle degree of natural courage; and thisher presentsensationswhich bordered somewhat on despairgreatly encreased.Besidesas she had already travelled twice with safety by the lightof themoonshe was the better emboldened to trust to it a thirdtime.

  Thedisposition of Mrs. Fitzpatrick was more timorous; forthoughthegreater terrors had conquered the lessand the presence of herhusbandhad driven her away at so unseasonable an hour from Uptonyetbeingnow arrived at a place where she thought herself safefrom hispursuitthese lesser terrors of I know not what operatedsostronglythat she earnestly entreated her cousin to stay tillthe nextmorningand not expose herself to the dangers oftravellingby night.

 Sophiawho was yielding to an excesswhen she could neitherlaugh norreason her cousin out of these apprehensionsat last gaveway tothem. Perhapsindeedhad she known of her father's arrival atUptonitmight have been more difficult to have persuaded her; for asto Jonesshe hadI am afraidno great horror at the thoughts ofbeingovertaken by him; nayto confess the truthI believe wishedthanfeared it; though I might honestly enough have concealed thiswish fromthe readeras it was one of those secret spontaneousemotionsof the soul to which the reason is often a stranger.

 When our young ladies had determined to remain all that evening intheir innthey were attended by the landladywho desired to knowwhat theirladyships would be pleased to eat. Such charms were therein thevoicein the mannerand in the affable deportment ofSophiathat she ravished the landlady to the highest degree; and thatgoodwomanconcluding that she had attended Jenny Cameronbecamein amoment a stanch Jacobiteand wished heartily well to the youngPretender'scausefrom the great sweetness and affability withwhich shehad been treated by his supposed mistress.

  Thetwo cousins began now to impart to each other their reciprocalcuriosity;to know what extraordinary accidents on both sidesoccasionedthis so strange and unexpected meeting. At last Mrs.Fitzpatrickhaving obtained of Sophia a promise of communicatinglikewisein her turnbegan to relate what the readerif he isdesirousto know her historymay read in the ensuing chapter.

Chapter4
Thehistory of Mrs. Fitzpatrick

 Mrs. Fitzpatrickafter a silence of a few momentsfetching adeep sighthus began:

  "Itis natural to the unhappy to feel a secret concern inrecollectingthose periods of their lives which have been mostdelightfulto them. The remembrance of past pleasures affects uswith akind of tender grieflike what we suffer for departed friends;and theideas of both may be said to haunt our imaginations.

 "For this reasonI never reflect without sorrow on those days(thehappiest far of my life) which we spent togetherwhen bothwere underthe care of my aunt Western. Alas! why are Miss Graveairsand MissGiddy no more? You rememberI am surewhen we knew eachother byno other names. Indeedyou gave the latter appellationwith toomuch cause. I have since experienced how much I deservedit. Youmy Sophiawas always my superior in everythingand Iheartilyhope you will be so in your fortune. I shall never forget thewise andmatronly advice you once gave mewhen I lamented beingdisappointedof a ballthough you could not be then fourteen yearsold.-O mySophyhow blest must have been my situationwhen I couldthink sucha disappointment a misfortune; and when indeed it was thegreatest Ihad ever known!"

 "And yetmy dear Harriet" answered Sophia"it wasthen aseriousmatter with you. Comfort yourself therefore with thinkingthatwhatever you now lament may hereafter appear as trifling andcontemptibleas a ball would at this time."

 "Alasmy Sophia" replied the other lady"youyourself willthinkotherwise of my present situation; for greatly must thattenderheart be alteredif my misfortunes do not draw many a sighnaymanya tearfrom you. The knowledge of this should perhaps determe fromrelating what I am convinced will so much affect you." HereMrs.Fitzpatrick stopttillat the repeated entreaties of Sophiashe thusproceeded:

 "Though you must have heard much of my marriage; yetas mattersmayprobablyhave been misrepresentedI will set out from the verycommencementof my unfortunate acquaintance with my present husband;which wasat Bathsoon after you left my auntand returned home toyourfather.

 "Among the gay young fellows who were at this season at BathMr.Fitzpatrickwas one. He was handsomedegageextremely gallantandin hisdress exceeded most others. In shortmy dearif you wasunluckilyto see him nowI could describe him no better than bytellingyou he was the very reverse of everything which he is: forhe hathrusticated himself so longthat he is become an absolute wildIrishman.But to proceed in my story: the qualifications which he thenpossessedso well recommended himthatthough the people ofquality atthat time lived separate from the rest of the companyandexcluded them from all their partiesMr. Fitzpatrick foundmeans togain admittance. It was perhaps no easy matter to avoidhim; forhe required very little or no invitation; and asbeinghandsomeand genteelhe found it no very difficult matter toingratiatehimself with the ladiessohe having frequently drawn hisswordthemen did not care publickly to affront him. Had it notbeen forsome such reasonI believe he would have been soonexpelledby his own sex; for surely he had no strict title to bepreferredto the English gentry; nor did they seem inclined to showhim anyextraordinary favour. They all abused him behind his backwhichmight probably proceed from envy; for the women he was wellreceivedand very particularly distinguished by them.

  "Myauntthough no person of quality herselfas she had alwayslivedabout the courtwas enrolled in that party; forby whatevermeans youget into the polite circlewhen you are once thereit issufficientmerit for you that you are there. This observationyoungas youwasyou could scarce avoid making from my auntwho wasfreeorreservedwith all peoplejust as they had more or less ofthismerit.

 "And this meritI believeit waswhich principallyrecommendedMr.Fitzpatrick to her favour. In which he so well succeededthathe wasalways one of her private parties. Nor was he backward inreturningsuch distinction; for he soon grew so very particular in hisbehaviourto herthat the scandal club first began to take noticeof itandthe better-disposed persons made a match between them.For my ownpartI confessI made no doubt that his designs werestrictlyhonourableas the phrase is; that isto rob a lady of herfortune byway of marriage. My aunt wasI conceivedneither youngenough norhandsome enough to attract much wicked inclination; but shehadmatrimonial charms in great abundance.

  "Iwas the more confirmed in this opinion from the extraordinaryrespectwhich he showed to myself from the first moment of ouracquaintance.This I understood as an attempt to lessenifpossiblethat disinclination which my interest might be supposed togive metowards the match; and I know not but in some measure it hadthateffect; foras I was well contented with my own fortuneandof allpeople the least a slave to interested viewsso I could not beviolentlythe enemy of a man with whose behaviour to me I wasgreatlypleased; and the more soas I was the only object of suchrespect;for he behaved at the same time to many women of qualitywithoutany respect at all.

 "Agreeable as this was to mehe soon changed it into anotherkindofbehaviourwhich was perhaps more so. He now put on much softnessandtendernessand languished and sighed abundantly. At timesindeedwhether from art or nature I will not determinehe gave hisusualloose to gaiety and mirth; but this was always in generalcompanyand with other women; for even in a country dancewhen hewas not mypartnerhe became graveand put on the softest lookimaginablethe moment he approached me. Indeed he was in all things soveryparticular towards methat I must have been blind not to havediscoveredit. Andandand--"

"And you was more pleased stillmydearHarriet" cries Sophia; "you need not be ashamed"shesighing;"for sure there are irresistible charms in tendernesswhich toomany men are able to affect."

"True" answered hercousin;"menwho in all other instances want common senseare veryMachiavelsin the art of loving. I wish I did not know an instance.Wellscandal now began to be as busy with me as it had before beenwith myaunt; and some good ladies did not scruple to affirm thatMr.Fitzpatrick had an intrigue with us both.

 "Butwhat may seem astonishingmy aunt never sawnor in theleastseemed tosuspectthat which was visible enoughI believefrom bothourbehaviours. One would indeed think that love quite puts out theeyes of anold woman. In factthey so greedily swallow theaddresseswhich are made to themthatlike an outrageous gluttonthey arenot at leisure to observe what passes amongst others at thesametable. This I have observed in more cases than my own; and thiswas sostrongly verified by my auntthatthough she often found ustogetherat her return from the pumpthe least chanting word ofhispretending impatience at her absenceeffectually smothered allsuspicion.One artifice succeeded with her to admiration. This was histreatingme like a little childand never calling me by any othername inher presence but that of pretty miss. This indeed did him somedisservicewith your humble servant; but I soon saw through itespeciallyas in her absence he behaved to meas I have saidin adifferentmanner. Howeverif I was not greatly disobliged by aconduct ofwhich I had discovered the designI smarted veryseverelyfor it; for my aunt really conceived me to be what herlover (asshe thought him) called meand treated me in all respectsas aperfect infant. To say the truthI wonder she had not insistedon myagain wearing leading-strings.

  "Atlastmy lover (for so he was) thought properin a mostsolemnmannerto disclose a secret which I had known long before.He nowplaced all the love which he had pretended to my aunt to myaccount.He lamentedin very pathetic termsthe encouragement shehad givenhimand made a high merit of the tedious hours in whichhe hadundergone her conversation.- What shall I tell youmy dearSophia?-Then I will confess the truth. I was pleased with my man. Iwaspleased with my conquest. To rival my aunt delighted me; torival somany other women charmed me. In shortI am afraid I didnot behaveas I should doeven upon the very first declaration- Iwish I didnot almost give him positive encouragement before weparted.

 "The Bath now talked loudly- I might almost sayroared againstme.Severalyoung women affected to shun my acquaintancenot so muchperhapsfrom any real suspicionas from a desire of banishing mefrom acompany in which I too much engrossed their favourite man.And here Icannot omit expressing my gratitude to the kindnessintendedme by Mr. Nashwho took me one day asideand gave meadvicewhich if I had followedI had been a happy woman. 'Child'says he'I am sorry to see the familiarity which subsists between youand afellow who is altogether unworthy of youand I am afraid willprove yourruin. As for your old stinking auntif it was to be noinjury toyou and my pretty Sophy Western (I assure you I repeat hiswords)Ishould be heartily glad that the fellow was in possession ofall thatbelongs to her. I never advise old women: forif they takeit intotheir head to go to the devilit is no more possible thanworthwhile to keep them from him. Innocence and youth and beautyare worthya better fateand I would save them from his clutches. Letme adviseyou thereforedear childnever suffer this fellow to beparticularwith you again.' Many more things he said to mewhich Ihave nowforgottenand indeed I attended very little to them atthat time;for inclination contradicted all he said; andbesidesIcould notbe persuaded that women of quality would condescend tofamiliaritywith such a person as he described.

 "But I am afraidmy dearI shall tire you with a detail of somanyminutecircumstances. To be concisethereforeimagine me married;imagine mewith my husbandat the feet of my aunt; and then imaginethemaddest woman in Bedlamin a raving fitand your imaginationwillsuggest to you no more than what really happened.

 "The very next day my aunt left the placepartly to avoidseeingMr.Fitzpatrick or myselfand as much perhaps to avoid seeing any oneelse; forthough I am told she hath since denied everythingstoutlyIbelieve she was then a little confounded at herdisappointment.Since that timeI have written to her many lettersbut nevercould obtain an answerwhich I must own sits somewhat theheavieras she herself wasthough undesignedlythe occasion ofall mysufferings: forhad it not been under the colour of paying hisaddressesto herMr. Fitzpatrick would never have found sufficientopportunitiesto have engaged my heartwhichin other circumstancesI stillflatter myself would not have been an easy conquest to sucha person.IndeedI believe I should not have erred so grossly in mychoice ifI had relied on my own judgment; but I trusted totally totheopinion of othersand very foolishly took the merit of a manforgrantedwhom I saw so universally well received by the women.What isthe reasonMy dearthat wewho have understandings equal tothe wisestand greatest of the other sexso often make choice ofthesilliest fellows for companions and favourites? It raises myindignationto the highest pitchto reflect on the numbers of womenof sensewho have been undone by fools." Here she paused a moment;butSophia making no answershe proceeded as in the next chapter.

Chapter5
In whichthe history of Mrs. Fitzpatrick is continued

  "Weremained at Bath no longer than a fortnight after our wedding;for as toany reconciliation with my auntthere were no hopes; and ofmyfortunenot one farthing could be touched till I was of ageofwhich Inow wanted more than two years. My husbandthereforewasresolvedto set out for Ireland; against which I remonstrated veryearnestlyand insisted on a promise which he had made me before ourmarriagethat I should never take this journey against my consent;and indeedI never intended to consent to it; nor will anybodyIbelieveblame me for that resolution; but thishoweverI nevermentionedto my husbandand petitioned only for the reprieve of amonth; buthe had fixed the dayand to that day he obstinatelyadhered.

 "The evening before our departureas we were disputing thispointwith greateagerness on both sideshe started suddenly from hischairandleft me abruptlysaying he was going to the rooms. Hewas hardlyout of the housewhen I saw a paper lying on the floorwhichIsupposehe had carelessly pulled from his pockettogetherwith hishandkerchief. This paper I took upandfinding it to be aletterImade no scruple to open and read it; and indeed I read it sooftenthat I can repeat it to you almost word for word. This then wastheletter:

  ToMr. Brian Fitzpatrick

 SIR- Yours receivedand am surprized you should use me in thismannerashave never seen any of your cashunless for onelinsey-woolseycoatand your bill now is upwards of L150. Considersirhowoften you have fobbed me off with your being shortly to bemarried tothis lady and t' other lady; but I can neither live onhopes orpromisesnor will my woollen-draper take any such inpayment.You tell me you are secure of having either the aunt or thenieceandthat you might have married the aunt before thiswhosejointureyou say is immensebut that you prefer the niece onaccount ofher ready money. Praysirtake a fool's advice foronceandmarry the first you can get. You will pardon my offeringmy adviceas you know I sincerely wish you well. Shall draw on youper nextpostin favour of Messieurs John Drugget and companyatfourteendayswhich doubt not your honouringand am

                           Siryour humble servant

                                               SAM COSGRAVE.

 "This was the letterword for word. Guessmy dear girl- guesshowthisletter affected me. You prefer the niece on account of herreadymoney! If every one of these words had been a daggerI couldwithpleasure have stabbed them into his heart; but I will not recountmy franticbehaviour on the occasion. I had pretty well spent my tearsbefore hisreturn home; but sufficient remains of them appeared inmy swolleneyes. He threw himself sullenly into his chairand for along timewe were both silent. At lengthin a haughty tonehesaid'Ihopemadamyour servants have packed up all your things;for thecoach will be ready by six in the morning.' My patience wastotallysubdued by this provocationand I answered'Nosirthereis aletter still remains unpacked;' and then throwing it on thetableIfell to upbraiding him with the most bitter language Icouldinvent.

 "Whether guiltor shameor prudencerestrained himI cannotsay;butthough he is the most passionate of menhe exerted no rage onthisoccasion. He endeavouredon the contraryto pacify me by themostgentle means. He swore the phrase in the letter to which Iprincipallyobjected was not hisnor had he ever written any such. Heownedindeedthe having mentioned his marriageand thatpreferencewhich he had given to myselfbut denied with many oathsthe havingassigned any such reason. And he excused the havingmentionedany such matter at allon account of the straits he wasin formoneyarisinghe saidfrom his having too long neglected hisestate inIreland. And thishe saidwhich he could not bear todiscoverto mewas the only reason of his having so strenuouslyinsistedon our journey. He then used several very endearingexpressionsand concluded by a very fond caressand many violentprotestationsof love.

 "There was one circumstance whichthough he did not appeal toithad muchweight with me in his favourand that was the wordjointurein the taylor's letterwhereas my aunt never had beenmarriedand this Mr. Fitzpatrick well knew.-- As I imaginedthereforethat the fellow must have inserted this of his own heador fromhearsayI persuaded myself he might have ventured likewise onthat odiusline on no better authority. What reasoning was thismydear? wasI not an advocate rather than a judge?- But why do I mentionsuch acircumstance as thisor appeal to it for the justification ofmyforgiveness?- In shorthad he been guilty of twenty times as muchhalf thetenderness and fondness which he used would have prevailed onme to haveforgiven him. I now made no farther objections to oursettingoutwhich we did the next morningand in a little morethan aweek arrived at the seat of Mr. Fitzpatrick.

 "Your curiosity will excuse me from relating any occurrenceswhichpastduring our journey; for it would indeed be highly disagreeable totravel itover againand no less so to you to travel it over with me.

 "This seatthenis an ancient mansion-house: if I was in oneofthosemerry humours in which you have so often seen meI coulddescribeit to you ridiculously enough. It looked as if it had beenformerlyinhabited by a gentleman. Here was room enoughand not theless roomon account of the furniture; for indeed there was verylittle init. An old womanwho seemed coeval with the buildingandgreatlyresembled her whom Chamont mentions in the Orphanreceived usat thegateand in a howl scarce humanand to me unintelligiblewelcomedher master home. In shortthe whole scene was so gloomyandmelancholythat it threw my spirits into the lowest dejection;which myhusband discerninginstead of relievingencreased by two orthreemalicious observations. 'There are good housesmadam' says he'as youfindin other places besides England; but perhaps you hadrather bein a dirty lodgings at Bath.'

 "Happymy dearis the woman whoin any state of lifehath acheerfulgood-natured companion to support and comfort her! But why doI reflecton happy situations only to aggravate my own misery? mycompanionfar from clearing up the gloom of solitudesoonconvincedme that I must have been wretched with him in any placeandin anycondition. In a wordhe was a surly fellowa characterperhapsyou have never seen; forindeedno woman ever sees itexemplifiedbut in a fathera brotheror a husband; andthoughyou have afatherhe is not of that character. This surly fellowhadformerly appeared to me the very reverseand so he did still toeveryother person. Good heaven! how is it possible for a man tomaintain aconstant lie in his appearance abroad and in companyandto contenthimself with shewing disagreeable truth only at home? Heremy dearthey make themselves amends for the uneasy restraint whichthey puton their tempers in the world; for I have observedthemore merryand gay and good-humoured my husband hath at any timebeen incompanythe more sullen and morose he was sure to become atour nextprivate meeting. How shall I describe his barbarity? To myfondnesshe was cold and insensible. My little comical wayswhichyoumySophyand which othershave called so agreeablehetreatedwith contempt. In my most serious moments he sung andwhistled;and whenever I was thoroughly dejected and miserablehe wasangryandabused me; forthough he was never pleased with mygood-humournor ascribed it to my satisfaction in himyet my lowspiritsalways offended himand those he imputed to my repentanceof having(as he said) married an Irishman.

 "You will easily conceivemy dear Graveairs (I ask your pardonIreallyforgot myself)thatwhen a woman makes an imprudent matchin thesense of the worldthat iswhen she not an arrantprostituteto pecuniary interestshe must necessarily have someinclinationand affection for her man. You will as easily believe thatthisaffection may possibly be lessened; nayI do assure youcontemptwill wholly eradicate it. This contempt I now began toentertainfor my husbandwhom I now discovered to be- I must use theexpression-an arrant blockhead. Perhaps you will wonder I did notmake thisdiscovery long before; but women will suggest a thousandexcuses tothemselves for the folly of those they like: besidesgive meleave to tell youit requires a most penetrating eye todiscern afool through the disguises of gaiety and good breeding.

  "Itwill be easily imagined thatwhen I once despised my husbandas Iconfess to you I soon didI must consequently dislike hiscompany;and indeed I had the happiness of being very littletroubledwith it; for our house was now most elegantly furnishedourcellars well stockedand dogs and horses provided in greatabundance.As my gentleman therefore entertained his neighbours withgreathospitalityso his neighbours resorted to him with greatalacrity;and sports and drinking consumed so much of his timethat asmall partof his conversationthat is to sayof his ill-humoursfell to myshare.

 "Happy would it have been for me if I could as easily haveavoidedall otherdisagreeable company; butalas! I was confined to somewhichconstantly tormented me; and the moreas I saw no prospect ofbeingrelieved from them. These companions were my own rackingthoughtswhich plagued and in a manner haunted me night and day. Inthissituation I past through a scenethe horrors of which canneither bepainted nor imagined. Thinkmy dearfigureif you cantoyourselfwhat I must have undergone. I became a mother by theman Iscornedhatedand detested. I went through all the agonies andmiseriesof a lying-in (ten times more painful in such acircumstancethan the worst labour can be when one endures it for aman oneloves) in a desertor ratherindeeda scene of riot andrevelwithout a friendwithout a companionor without any ofthoseagreeable circumstances which often alleviateand perhapssometimesmore than compensatethe sufferings of our sex at thatseason."

Chapter6
In whichthe mistake of the landlord throws Sophia into a dreadfulConsternation

 Mrs. Fitzpatrick was proceeding in her narrativewhen she wasinterruptedby the entrance of dinnergreatly to the concern ofSophia;for the misfortunes of her friend had raised her anxietyand lefther no appetite but what Mrs. Fitzpatrick was to satisfy byherrelation.

  Thelandlord now attended with a plate under his armand with thesamerespect in his countenance and address which he would have put onhad theladies arrived in a coach and six.

  Themarried lady seemed less affected with own misfortunes thanwas hercousin; for the former eat very heartilywhereas the lattercouldhardly swallow a morsel. Sophia likewise showed more concern andsorrow inher countenance than appeared in the other lady; whohavingobservedthese symptoms in her friendbegged her to be comfortedsaying"Perhaps all may yet end better than either you or I expect."

  Ourlandlord thought he had now an opportunity to open his mouthand wasresolved not to omit it. "I am sorrymadam" cries he"thatyour ladyship can't eat; for to be sure you must be hungry afterso longfasting. I hope your ladyship is not uneasy at anythingforasmadam there saysall may end better than anybody expects. Agentlemanwho was here just now brought excellent news; and perhapssome folkswho have given other folks the slip may get to Londonbeforethey are overtaken; and if they doI make no doubt but theywill findpeople who will be very ready to receive them."

  Allpersons under the apprehension of danger convert whatever theysee andhear into the objects of that apprehension. Sophia thereforeimmediatelyconcludedfrom the foregoing speechthat she wasknownandpursued by her father. She was now struck with the utmostconsternationand for a few minutes deprived of the power ofspeech;which she no sooner recoveredthan she desired the landlordto sendhis servants out of the roomand thenaddressing herselfto himsaid"I perceivesiryou know who we are; but I beseechyou-nayIam convincedif you have any compassion or goodnessyouwill notbetray us."

  "Ibetray your ladyship!" quoth the landlord; "no (and then hesworeseveralvery hearty oaths); I would sooner be cut into ten thousandpieces. Ihate all treachery. I! I never betrayed any one in my lifeyetand Iam sure I shall not begin with so sweet a lady as yourladyship.All the world would very much blame me if I shouldsince itwill be inyour ladyship's power so shortly to reward me. My wifecanwitness for meI knew your ladyship the moment you came intothe house:I said it was your honourbefore I lifted you from yourhorseandI shall carry the bruises I got in your ladyship'sservice tothe grave; but what signified thatas long as I saved yourladyship?To be sure some people this morning would have thought ofgetting areward; but no such thought ever entered into my head. Iwouldsooner starve than take any reward for betraying your ladyship."

  "Ipromise yousir" says Sophia"if it be ever in my powertorewardyouyou shall not lose by your generosity."

 "Alack-a-daymadam!" answered the landlord; "in yourladyship'spower!Heaven put it as much into your will! I am only afraid yourhonourwill forget such a poor man as an innkeeper; butif yourladyshipshould notI hope you will remember what reward Irefused-refused! that isI would have refusedand to be sure itmay becalled refusingfor I might have had it certainly; and to besure youmight have been in some houses;-butfor my partI wouldnotmethinksfor the world have your ladyship wrong me so much as toimagine Iever thought of betraying youeven before I heard thegoodnews."

 "What newspray?" says Sophiasomething eagerly.

 "Hath not your ladyship heard itthen?" cries thelandlord; "naylikeenoughfor I heard it only a few minutes ago; and if I had neverheard itmay the devil fly away with me this instant if I wouldhavebetrayed your honour! noif I wouldmay I-" Here he subjoinedseveraldreadful imprecationswhich Sophia at last interruptedandbegged toknow what he meant by the news.- He was going to answerwhen Mrs.Honour came running into the roomall pale and breathlessand criedout"Madamwe are all undoneall ruinedthey are comethey arecome!" These words almost froze up the blood of Sophia; butMrs.Fitzpatrick asked Honour who were come? "Who?" answeredshe"whythe French; several hundred thousands of them are landedand weshall beall murdered and ravished."

  Asa miserwho hathin some well-built citya cottagevaluetwentyshillingswhen at a distance he is alarmed with the news ofa fireturns pale and trembles at his loss; but when he finds thebeautifulpalaces only are burntand his own cottage remains safehecomesinstantly to himselfand smiles at his good fortunes: or as(for wedislike something in the former simile) the tender motherwhenterrified with the apprehension that her darling boy isdrownedis struck senseless and almost dead with consternation; butwhen sheis told that little master is safeand the Victory onlywithtwelve hundred brave mengone to the bottomlife and senseagainreturnmaternal fondness enjoys the sudden relief from allits fearsand the general benevolence which at another time wouldhavedeeply felt the dreadful catastrophelies fast asleep in hermind; soSophiathan whom none was more capable of tenderly feelingthegeneral calamity of her countryfound such immediate satisfactionfrom therelief of those terrors she had of being overtaken by herfatherthat the arrival of the French scarce made any impression onher. Shegently chid her maid for the fright into which she had thrownherandsaid "she was glad it was no worse; for that she had fearedsomebodyelse was come."

 "Ayay" quoth the landlordsmiling"her ladyshipknows betterthings;she knows the French are our very best friendsand comeoverhither only for our good. They are the people who are to make OldEnglandflourish again. I warrant her honour thought the duke wascoming;and that was enough to put her into a fright. I was going totell yourladyship the news.- His honour's majestyHeaven bless himhath giventhe duke the slipand is marching as fast as he can toLondonand ten thousand French are landed to join him on the road."

 Sophia was not greatly pleased with this newsnor with thegentlemanwho related it; butas she still imagined he knew her(for shecould not possibly have any suspicion of the real truth)shedurst notshow any dislike. And now the landlordhaving removed thecloth fromthe tablewithdrew; but at his departure frequentlyrepeatedhis hopes of being remembered hereafter.

  Themind of Sophia was not at all easy under the supposition ofbeingknown at this house; for she still applied to herself manythingswhich the landlord had addressed to Jenny Cameron; shethereforeordered her maid to pump out of him by what means he hadbecomeacquainted with her personand who had offered him thereward forbetraying her; she likewise ordered the horses to be inreadinessby four in the morningat which hour Mrs. Fitzpatrickpromisedto bear her company; and thencomposing herself as well asshe couldshe desired that lady to continue her story.

Chapter7
In whichMrs. Fitzpatrick concludes her history

 While Mrs. Honourin pursuance of commands of her mistressordereda bowl ofpunchand invited my landlord and landlady to partake ofitMrs.Fitzpatrick thus went on with her relation.

 "Most of the officers who were quartered at a town in ourneighbourhoodwere of my husband's acquaintance. Among these there wasalieutenanta very pretty sort of manand who was married to awomansoagreeable both in her temper and conversationthat from ourfirstknowing each otherwhich was soon after my lying-inwe werealmostinseparable companions; for I had the good fortune to makemyselfequally agreeable to her.

 "The lieutenantwho was neither a sot nor a sportsmanwasfrequentlyof our parties; indeed he was very little with myhusbandand no more than good breeding constrained him to beas helivedalmost constantly at our house. My husband often expressedmuchdissatisfaction at the lieutenant's preferring my company to his;he wasvery angry with me on that accountand gave me many a heartycurse fordrawing away his companions; saying'I ought to be d--n'dfor havingspoiled one of the prettiest fellows in the worldbymaking amilksop of him.'

 "You will be mistakenmy dear Sophiaif you imagine that theangerof myhusband arose from my depriving him of a companion; for thelieutenantwas not a person with whose society a fool could bepleased;andif I should admit the possibility of thisso littleright hadmy husband to place the loss of his companion to methatI amconvinced it was my conversation alone which induced him everto come tothe house. Nochildit was envythe worst and mostrancorouskind of envythe envy of superiority of understanding.The wretchcould not bear to see my conversation preferred to hisby a manof whom he could not entertain the least jealousy. O mydearSophyyou are a woman of sense; if you marry a manas is mostprobableyou willof less capacity than yourselfmake frequenttrials ofhis temper before marriageand see whether he can bear tosubmit tosuch a superiority.- Promise meSophyyou will take thisadvice;for you will hereafter find its importance."

"It is verylikely Ishall never marry at all" answered Sophia; "I thinkatleastIshall never marry a man in whose understanding I see anydefectsbefore marriage; and I promise you I would rather give up myown thansee any such afterwards."

"Give up your understanding!"repliedMrs. Fitzpatrick; "ohfiechild! I will not believe someanly ofyou. Everything else I might myself be brought to give up;but neverthis. Nature would not have allotted this superiority to thewife in somany instancesif she had intended we should all of ushavesurrendered it to the husband. Thisindeedmen of sense neverexpect ofus; of which the lieutenant I have just mentioned was onenotableexample; for though he had a very good understandinghealwaysacknowledged (as was really true) that his wife had a better.And thisperhapswas one reason of the hatred my tyrant bore her.

 "Before he would be so governed by a wifehe saidespeciallysuch anugly b-- (forindeedshe was not a regular beautybut veryagreeableand extremely genteel)he would see all the women uponearth atthe devilwhich was a very usual phrase with him. He saidhewondered what I could see in her to be so charmed with her company:since thiswomansays hehath come among usthere is an end of yourbelovedreadingwhich you pretended to like so muchthat you couldnot affordtime to return the visits of the ladies in this country;and I mustconfess I had been guilty of a little rudeness this way;for theladies there are at least no better than the mere countryladieshere; and I think I need make no other excuse to you fordecliningany intimacy with them.

 "This correspondencehowevercontinued a whole yeareven allthe whilethe lieutenant was quartered in that town; for which I wascontentedto pay the tax of being constantly abused in the mannerabovementioned by my husband; I mean when he was at home; for hewasfrequently absent a month at a time at Dublinand once made ajourney oftwo months to London: in all which journeys I thought ita verysingular happiness that he never once desired my company;naybyhis frequent censures on men who could not travelas hephraseditwithout a wife tied up to their tailhe sufficientlyintimatedthathad I been never so desirous of accompanying himmywisheswould have been in vain; butHeaven knowssuch wishes werevery farfrom my thoughts.

  "Atlength my friend was removed from meand I was again left to mysolitudeto the tormenting conversation with my own reflectionsand toapply to books for my only comfort. I now read almost all daylong.- Howmany books you think I read in three months?"

"I can'tguessindeedcousin" answered Sophia. "Perhaps half a score."

"Halfa score!half a thousandchild!" answered the other. "I read a gooddeal inDaniel's English History of France; a great deal in Plutarch'sLivestheAtalantisPope's HomerDryden's PlaysChillingworththeCountessD'Aulnoisand Locke's Human Understanding.

 "During this interval I wrote three very supplicatingandIthoughtmoving letters to my aunt; butas I received no answer toany ofthemmy disdain would not suffer me to continue myapplication."Here she stoptandlooking earnestly at Sophiasaid"Methinksmy dearI read something in your eyes whichreproachesme of a neglect in another placewhere I should have metwith akinder return."

"Indeeddear Harriet" answeredSophia"yourstory is an apology for any neglect; butindeedI feel thatI havebeen guilty of a remissnesswithout so good an excuse.-Yetprayproceed; for I longthough I trembleto hear the end."

 ThusthenMrs. Fitzpatrick resumed her narrative:

"My husbandnow took asecond journey to Englandwhere he continued upwards ofthreemonths; during the greater part of this time I led a lifewhichnothing but having led a worse could make me think tolerable;forperfect solitude can never be reconciled to a social mindlikeminebutwhen it relieves you from the company of those you hate.What addedto my wretchedness was the loss of my little infant: notthat Ipretend to have had for it that extravagant tenderness of whichI believeI might have been capable under other circumstances; but Iresolvedin every instanceto discharge the duty of the tenderestmother;and this care prevented me from feeling the weight of thatheaviestof all thingswhen it can be at all said to lie heavy on ourhands.

  "Ihad spent full ten weeks almost entirely by myselfhaving seennobody allthat timeexcept my servants and a very few visitorswhena youngladya relation to my husbandcame from a distant part ofIreland tovisit me. She had staid once before a week at my houseandthen Igave her a pressing invitation to return; for she was a veryagreeablewomanand had improved good natural parts by a propereducation.indeedshe was to me a welcome guest.

  "Afew days after her arrivalperceiving me in very low spiritswithoutenquiring the causewhichindeedshe very well knewtheyoung ladyfell to compassionating my case. She said'Thoughpolitenesshad prevented me from complaining to my husband's relationsof hisbehaviouryet they all were very sensible of itand feltgreatconcern upon that account; but none more than herself.' Andafter somemore general discourse on this headwhich I own I couldnotforbear countenancingat lastafter much previous precaution andenjoinedconcealmentshe communicated to meas a profoundsecret-that my husband kept a mistress.

 "You will certainly imagine I heard this news with the utmostinsensibility-Upon my wordif you doyour imagination will misleadyou.Contempt had not so kept down my anger to my husbandbut thathatredrose again on this occasion. What can be the reason of this?Are we soabominably selfishthat we can be concerned at othershavingpossession even of what we despise? or are we not ratherabominablyvainand is not this the greatest injury done to ourvanity?What think youSophia?"

  "Idon't knowindeed" answered Sophia; "I have nevertroubledmyselfwith any of these deep contemplations; but I think the lady didvery illin communicating to you such a secret."

 "And yetmy dearthis conduct is natural" replied Mrs.Fitzpatrick;"andwhen you have seen and read as much as myselfyou willacknowledge it to be so."

  "Iam sorry to hear it is natural" returned Sophia; "for Iwantneitherreading nor experience to convince me that it is verydishonourableand very ill-natured: nayit is surely as ill-bred totell ahusband or wife of the faults of each other as to tell themof theirown."

 "Well" continued Mrs. Fitzpatrick"my husband atlast returned;andif Iam thoroughly acquainted with my own thoughtsI hated himnow morethan ever; but I despised him rather less: for certainlynothing somuch weakens our contemptas an injury done to our prideor ourvanity.

  "Henow assumed a carriage to me so very different from what hehad latelywornand so nearly resembling his behaviour the first weekof ourmarriagethathad I now had any spark of love remaininghemightpossiblyhave rekindled my fondness for him. Butthoughhatred maysucceed to contemptand may perhaps get the better ofitloveI believecannot. The truth isthe passion of love istoorestless to remain contentedwithout the gratification which itreceivesfrom its object; and one can no more be inclined to lovewithoutlovingthan we can have eyes without seeing. When ahusbandthereforeceases to be the object of this passionit ismostprobable some other man- I saymy dearif your husband growsindifferentto you- if you once come to despise him- I say- that is-if youhave the passion of love in you- Lud! I have bewildered myselfso- butone is aptin these abstracted considerationsto lose theconcatenationof ideasas Mr. Locke says:- in shortthe truth is- inshortIscarce know what it is; butas I was sayingmy husbandreturnedand his behaviourat firstgreatly surprized me; but hesoonacquainted me with the motiveand taught me to account for it.In a wordthenhe had spent and lost all the ready money of myfortune;andas he could mortgage his own estate no deeperhe wasnowdesirous to supply himself with cash for his extravagancebyselling alittle estate of minewhich he could not do without myassistance;and to obtain this favourwas the whole and sole motiveof all thefondness which he now put on.

 "With this I peremptorily refused to comply. I told himand Itold himtrulythathad I been possessed of the Indies at ourfirstmarriagehe might have commanded it all; for it had been aconstantmaxim with methat where a woman disposes of her heartshe shouldalways deposit her fortune; butas he had been so kindlong agoto restore the former into my possessionI was resolvedlikewiseto retain what little remained of the latter.

  "Iwill not describe to you the passion into which these wordsand theresolute air in which they were spokenthrew him: nor willI troubleyou with the whole scene which succeeded between us. Outcameyoumay be well assuredthe story of the mistress; and out itdid comewith all the embellishments which anger and disdain couldbestowupon it.

 "Mr. Fitzpatrick seemed a little thunderstruck with thisandmoreconfusedthan I had seen himthough his ideas are always confusedenoughheaven knows. He did nothoweverendeavour to exculpatehimself;but took a method which almost equally confounded me. Whatwas thisbut recrimination? He affected to be jealous:-- he mayforaught Iknowbe inclined enough to jealousy in his natural temper:nayhemust have had it from natureor the devil must have put itinto hishead; for I defy all the world to cast a just aspersion on mycharacter:naythe most scandalous tongues have never dared censuremyreputation. My fameI thank heavenhath been always as spotlessas mylife; and let falsehood itself accuse thatif it dare. NomydearGraveairshowever provokedhowever ill-treatedhowever injuredin myloveI have firmly resolved never to give the least room forcensure onthis account.- And yetmy dearthere are some people somalicioussome tongues so venomousthat no innocence can escapethem. Themost undesigned wordthe most accidental lookthe leastfamiliaritythe most innocent freedomwill be misconstruedandmagnifiedinto I know not whatby some people. But I despisemy dearGraveairsI despise all such slander. No such maliceI assure youever gaveme an uneasy moment. NonoI promise you I am above allthat.- Butwhere was I? O let me seeI told you my husband wasjealous-And of whomI pray?- Whyof whom but the lieutenant Imentionedto you before! He was obliged to resort above a year andmore backto find any object for this unaccountable passionifindeedhereally felt any suchand was not an arrant counterfeitinorder toabuse me.

 "But I have tired you already with too many particulars. I willnow bringmy story to a very speedy conclusion. In shortthenafter manyscenes very unworthy to be repeatedin which my cousinengaged soheartily on my sidethat Mr. Fitzpatrick at last turnedher out ofdoors; when he found I was neither to be soothed norbulliedinto compliancehe took a very violent method indeed. Perhapsyou willconclude he beat me; but thisthough he hath approached verynear toithe never actually did. He confined me to my roomwithoutsuffering me to have either peninkpaperor book: and aservantevery day made my bedand brought me my food.

 "When I had remained a week under this imprisonmenthe made meavisitandwith the voice of a schoolmasterorwhat is often muchthe sameof a tyrantasked me'If I would yet comply?' Iansweredvery stoutly'That I would die first.' 'Then so youshallandbe d--n'd!' cries he; 'for you shall never go alive out ofthisroom.'

 "Here I remained a fortnight longer; andto say the truthmyconstancywas almost subduedand I began to think of submission;whenonedayin the absence of my husbandwho was gone abroad forsome shorttimeby the greatest good fortune in the worldanaccidenthappened.- I- at a time when I began to give way to theutmostdespair-- everything would be excusable at such a time- at thatvery timeI received-- But it would take up an hour to tell you allparticulars.-In one wordthen (for I will not tire you withcircumstances)goldthe common key to all padlocksopened mydoorandset me at liberty.

  "Inow made haste to Dublinwhere I immediately procurred a passagetoEngland; and was proceeding to Bathin order to throw myselfinto theprotection of my auntor of your fatheror of anyrelationwho would afford it me. My husband overtook me last nightat the innwhere I layand which you left a few minutes before me;but I hadthe good luck to escape himand to follow you.

 "And thusmy dearends my history: a tragical oneI am sureitis tomyself; butperhapsI ought rather to apologise to you for itsdulness."

 Sophia heaved a deep sighand answered"IndeedHarrietIpityyou frommy soul!-- But what could you expect? Whywhywould youmarry anIrishman?"

 "Upon my word" replied her cousin"your censure isunjust. Thereareamongthe Irishmen of as much worth and honour as any among theEnglish:nayto speak the truthgenerosity of spirit is rathermorecommon among them. I have known some examples theretooof goodhusbands;and I believe these are not very plenty in England. Askmeratherwhat I could expect when I married a fool; and I will tellyou asolemn truth; I did not know him to be so."

"Can no man"saidSophiaina very low and altered voice"do you thinkmake a badhusbandwho is not a fool?"

"That" answered the other"istoogeneral anegative; but noneI believeis so likely as a fool toprove so.Among my acquaintancethe silliest fellows are the worsthusbands;and I will venture to assertas a factthat a man of senserarelybehaves very ill to a wife who deserves very well."

Chapter8
A dreadfulalarm in the innwith the arrival of an unexpectedfriend ofMrs. Fitzpatrick

 Sophia nowat the desire of her cousinrelated- not what followsbut whathath gone before in this history: for which reason the readerwillIsupposeexcuse me for not repeating it over again.

  OneremarkhoweverI cannot forbear making on her narrativenamelythat she made no more mention of Jonesfrom the beginningto theendthan if there had been no such person alive. This I willneitherendeavour to account for nor to excuse. Indeedif this may becalled akind of dishonestyit seems the more inexcusablefrom theapparentopenness and explicit sincerity of the other lady.- But soit was.

 Just as Sophia arrived at the conclusion of her storythere arrivedin theroom where the two ladies were sitting a noisenot unlikeinloudnessto that of a pack of hounds just let out from theirkennel;norin shrillnessto catswhen caterwauling; or toscreechowls; orindeedmore like (for what animal can resemble ahumanvoice?) to those sounds whichin the pleasant mansions ofthat gatewhich seems to derive its name from a duplicity oftonguesissue from the mouthsand sometimes from the nostrilsofthose fairriver nymphsycleped of old the Naiades; in the vulgartonguetranslated oyster-wenches; for wheninstead of the antientlibationsof milk and honey and oilthe rich distillation from thejuniper-berryorperhapsfrom malthathby the early devotionof theirvotariesbeen poured forth in great abundanceshould anydaringtongue with unhallowed license prophanei.e.depreciatethedelicate fat Milton oysterthe plaice sound and firmtheflounderas much alive as when in the waterthe shrimp as big as aprawnthefine cod alive but a few hours agoor any other of thevarioustreasures which those water-deities who fish the sea andrivershave committed to the care of the nymphsthe angry Naiadeslift uptheir immortal voicesand the prophane wretch is struckdeaf forhis impiety.

 Such was the noise which now burst from one of the rooms below;and soonthe thunderwhich long had rattled at a distancebegan toapproachnearer and nearertillhaving ascended by degrees upstairsit at lastentered the apartment where the ladies were. In shorttodrop allmetaphor and figureMrs. Honourhaving scolded violentlybelow-stairsand continued the same all the way upcame in to hermistressin a most outrageous passioncrying out"What doth yourladyshipthink? Would you imagine that this impudent villainthemaster ofthis househath had the impudence to tell menayto standit out tomy facethat your ladyship is that nastystinking wh-re(JennyCameron they call her)that runs about the country with thePretender?Naythe lyingsaucy villain had the assurance to tell methat yourladyship had owned yourself to be so; but I have clawedtherascal; I have left the marks of my nails in his impudent face. Mylady! saysIyou saucy scoundrel; my lady is meat for nopretenders.She is a young lady of as good fashionand familyandfortuneas any in Somersetshire. Did you never hear of the greatSquireWesternsirrah? She is his only daughter; she is--andheiress toall his great estate. My lady to be called a nasty Scotchwh-re bysuch a varlet!- To be sure I wish I had knocked his brainsout withthe punchbowl."

  Theprincipal uneasiness with which Sophia was affected on thisoccasionHonour had herself causedby having in her passiondiscoveredwho she was. Howeveras this mistake of the landlordsufficientlyaccounted for those passages which Sophia had beforemistakenshe acquired some ease on that account; nor could sheupon thewholeforbear smiling. This enraged Honourand she cries"IndeedmadamI did not think your ladyship would have made alaughingmatter of it. To be called whore by such an impudent lowrascal.Your ladyship may be angry with mefor aught I knowfortakingyour partsince proffered servicethey saystinks; but to besure Icould never bear to hear a lady mine called whore.- Nor will Ibear it. Iam sure your ladyship is as virtuous a lady as ever satfoot onEnglish groundand I will claw any villain's eyes out whodares forto offer to presume for to say the least word to thecontrary.Nobody ever could say the least ill of the character ofany ladythat ever I waited upon."

 Hinc illaelachrymae: in plain truthHonour had as much love forhermistress as most servants havethat is to say- But besides thisher prideobliged her to support the character of the lady shewaited on;for she thought her own was in a very close mannerconnectedwith it. In proportion as the character of her mistresswasraisedhers likewiseas she conceivedwas raised with it;andonthe contraryshe thought the one could not be lowered withoutthe other.

  Onthis subjectreaderI must stop a momentto tell thee a story."Thefamous Nell Gwynnstepping one dayfrom a house where she hadmade ashort visitinto her coachsaw a great mob assembledand herfootmanall bloody and dirty; the fellowbeing asked by hismistressthe reason of his being in that conditionanswered'Ihave beenfightingmadamwith an impudent rascal who called yourladyship awh-re.' 'You blockhead' replied Mrs. Gwynn'at thisrate youmust fight every day of your life; whyyou foolall theworldknows it.' 'Do they?' cries the fellowin a muttering voiceafter hehad shut the coachdoor'they shan't call me a whore'sfootmanfor all that.'

 Thus the passion of Mrs. Honour appears natural enougheven if itwere to beno otherwise accounted for; butin realitythere wasanothercause of her anger; for which we must beg leave to remindour readerof a circumstance mentioned in the above simile. Thereare indeedcertain liquorswhichbeing applied to our passionsorto fireproduce effects the very reverse of those produced bywaterasthey serve to kindle and inflamerather than to extinguish.Amongthesethe generous liquor called punch is one. It was notthereforewithout reasonthat the learned Dr. Cheney used to calldrinkingpunch pouring liquid fire down your throat.

 NowMrs. Honour had unluckily poured so much of this liquid firedown herthroatthat the smoke of it began to ascend into herpericraniumand blinded the eyes of Reasonwhich is there supposedto keepher residencewhile the fire itself from the stomach easilyreachedthe heartand there inflamed the noble passion of pride. Sothatuponthe wholewe shall cease to wonder at the violent rageof thewaiting-woman; though at first sight we must confess thecauseseems inadequate to the effect.

 Sophiaand her cousin bothdid all in their power to extinguishtheseflameswhich had roared so loudly all over the house. They atlengthprevailed; orto carry the metaphor one step fartherthefirehaving consumed all the fuel which the language affordsto witeveryreproachful term in itat last went out of its own accord.

 Butthough tranquillity was restored abovestairsit was not sobelow;where my landladyhighly resenting the injury done to thebeauty ofher husband by the flesh-spades of Mrs. Honourcalled aloudforrevenge and justice. As to the poor manwho had principallysufferedin the engagementhe was perfectly quiet. Perhaps thebloodwhich he lost might have cooled his anger: for the enemy had notonlyapplied her nails to his cheeksbut likewise her fist to hisnostrilswhich lamented the blow with tears of blood in greatabundance.To this we may add reflections on his mistake; but indeednothing soeffectually silenced his resentment as the manner inwhich henow discovered his error; for as to the behaviour of Mrs.Honourithad the more confirmed him in his opinion; but he was nowassured bya person of great figureand who was attended by a greatequipagethat one of the ladies was a woman of fashionand hisintimateacquaintance.

  Bythe orders of this personthe landlord now ascendedandacquaintedour fair travellers that a great gentleman below desired todo themthe honour of waiting on them. Sophia turned pale and trembledat thismessagethough the reader will conclude it was too civilnotwithstandingthe landlord's blunderto have come from herfather;but fear hath the common fault of a justice of peaceand isapt toconclude hastily from every slight circumstancewithoutexaminingthe evidence on both sides.

  Toease the reader's curiositythereforerather than hisapprehensionswe proceed to inform him that an Irish peer had arrivedvery latethat evening at the innin his way to London. Thisnoblemanhaving sallied from his supper at the hurricane beforecommemoratedhad seen the attendant of Mrs. Fitzpatrickand upon ashortenquirywas informed that her ladywith whom he was veryparticularlyacquaintedwas above. This information he had nosoonerreceivedthan he addressed himself to the landlordpacifiedhimandsent him upstairs with compliments rather civiller than thosewhich weredelivered.

  Itmay perhaps be wondered atthat the waiting-woman herself wasnot themessenger employed on this occasion; but we are sorry to sayshe wasnot at present qualified for thator indeed for any otheroffice.The rum (for so the landlord chose to call the distillationfrom malt)had basely taken the advantage of the fatigue which thepoor womanhad undergoneand had made terrible depredations on hernoblefacultiesat a time when they were very unable to resist theattack.

  Weshall not describe this tragical scene too fully; but wethoughtourselves obligedby that historic integrity which weprofessshortly to hint a matter which we would otherwise have beenglad tohave spared. Many historiansindeedfor want of thisintegrityor of diligenceto say no worseoften leave the reader tofind outthese little circumstances in the darkand sometimes tohis greatconfusion and perplexity.

 Sophia was very soon eased of her causeless fright by the entry ofthe noblepeerwho was not only an intimate acquaintance of Mrs.Fitzpatrickbut in reality a very particular friend of that lady.To saytruthit was by his assistance that she had been enabled toescapefrom her husband; for this nobleman had the same gallantdispositionwith those renowned knights of whom we read in heroicstoryandhad delivered many an imprisoned nymph from durance. He wasindeed asbitter an enemy to the savage authority too oftenexercisedby husbands and fathersover the young and lovely of theother sexas ever knighterrant was to the barbarous power ofenchanters;nayto say truthI have often suspected that thoseveryenchanters with which romance everywhere aboundswere in realityno otherthan the husbands of those days; and matrimony itself wasperhapsthe enchanted castle in which the nymphs were said to beconfined.

 This nobleman had an estate in the neighbourhood of Fitzpatrickandhad beenfor sometime acquainted with the lady. No soonerthereforedid he hear of her confinementthan he earnestly appliedhimself toprocure her liberty; which he presently effectednot bystormingthe castleaccording to the example of antient heroesbutbycorrupting the governorin conformity with the modern art ofwarinwhich craft is held to be preferable to valourand gold isfound tobe more irresistible than either lead or steel.

 This circumstancehoweveras the lady did not think it materialenough torelate to her friendwe would not at that time impart it tothereader. We rather chose to leave him a while under a suppositionthat shehad foundor coinedor by some very extraordinaryperhapssupernatural meanshad possessed herself of the money withwhich shehad bribed her keeperthan to interrupt her narrative bygiving ahint of what seemed to her of too little importance to bementioned.

  Thepeerafter a short conversationcould not forbear expressingsomesurprize at meeting the lady in that place; nor could herefrainfrom telling her he imagined she had been gone to Bath. Mrs.Fitzpatrickvery freely answered"That she had been prevented inherpurpose by the arrival of a person she need not mention. Inshort"says she"I was overtaken by my husband (for I need notaffect toconceal what the world knows too well already). I had thegoodfortune to escape in a most surprizing mannerand am now goingto Londonwith this young ladywho is a near relation of mineandwho hathescaped from as great a tyrant as my own."

  Hislordshipconcluding that this tyrant was likewise a husbandmade aspeech full of compliments to both the ladiesand as full ofinvectivesagainst his own sex; nor indeed did he avoid some obliqueglances atthe matrimonial institution itselfand at the unjustpowersgiven by it to man over the more sensible and moremeritoriouspart of the species. He ended his oration with an offer ofhisprotectionand of his coach and sixwhich was instantly acceptedby Mrs.Fitzpatrickand at lastupon her persuasionsby Sophia.

 Matters being thus adjustedhis lordship took his leaveand theladiesretired to restwhere Mrs. Fitzpatrick entertained hercousinwith many high encomiums on the character of the noble peerandenlarged very particularly on his great fondness for his wife;sayingshe believed he was almost the only person of high rank whowasentirely constant to the marriage bed. "Indeed" added she"mydearSophythat is a very rare virtue amongst men of condition. Neverexpect itwhen you marry; forbelieve meif you doyou willcertainlybe deceived."

  Agentle sigh stole from Sophia at these wordswhich perhapscontributedto form a dream of no very pleasant kind; butas sheneverrevealed this dream to any oneso the reader cannot expect tosee itrelated here.

Chapter9
Themorning introduced in some pretty writing. A stage-coach. Thecivilityof chambermaids. The heroic temper of Sophia. Her generosity.The returnto it. The departure of the companyand their arrival atLondon;with some remarks for the use of travellers

 Those members of societywho are born to furnish the blessings oflifenowbegan to light their candlesin order to pursue their dailylaboursfor the use of those who are born to enjoy these blessings.The sturdyhind now attends the levee of his fellow-labourer the ox;thecunning artificerthe diligent mechanicspring from their hardmattress;and now the bonny housemaid begins to repair thedisordereddrum-roomwhile the riotous authors of that disorderinbrokeninterrupted slumberstumble and tossas if the hardness ofdowndisquieted their repose.

  Insimple phrasethe clock had no sooner struck seventhan theladieswere ready for their journey; andat their desirehislordshipand his equipage were prepared to attend them.

  Andnow a matter of some difficulty arose; and this was how hislordshiphimself should be conveyed; for though in stage-coacheswherepassengers are properly considered as so much luggagetheingeniouscoachman stows half a dozen with perfect ease into the placeof four;for well he contrives that the fat hostessor well-fedaldermanmay take up no more room than the slim missor tapermaster; itbeing the nature of gutswhen well squeezedto givewayandto lie in a narrow compass; yet in these vehicleswhicharecalledfor distinction's sakegentlemen's coachesthough theyare oftenlarger than the othersthis method of packing is neverattempted.

  Hislordship would have put a short end to the difficultyby verygallantlydesiring to mount his horse; but Mrs. Fitzpatrick would byno meansconsent to it. It was therefore concluded that the Abigailsshouldbyturnsrelieve each other on one of his lordship'shorseswhich was presently equipped with a side-saddle for thatpurpose.

 Everything being settled at the innthe ladies discharged theirformerguidesand Sophia made a present to the landlordpartly torepair thebruise which he had received under herselfand partly onaccount ofwhat he had suffered under the hands of her enragedwaiting-woman.And now Sophia first discovered a loss which gave hersomeuneasiness; and this was of the hundred-pound bank-bill which herfather hadgiven her at their last meeting; and whichwithin a veryinconsiderabletriflewas all the treasure she was at presentworth. Shesearched everywhereand shook and tumbled all her thingsto nopurposethe bill was not to be found: and she was at last fullypersuadedthat she had lost it from her pocket when she had themisfortuneof tumbling from her horse in the dark laneas beforerecorded:a fact that seemed the more probableas she now recollectedsomediscomposure in her pockets which had happened at that timeand thegreat difficulty with which she had drawn forth herhandkerchiefthe very instant before her fallin order to relieve thedistressof Mrs. Fitzpatrick.

 Misfortunes of this kindwhatever inconveniencies they may beattendedwithare incapable of subduing a mind in which there isanystrengthwithout the assistance of avarice. Sophiathereforethoughnothing could be worse timed than this accident at such aseasonimmediately got the better of her concernandwith herwontedserenity and cheerfulness of countenancereturned to hercompany.His lordship conducted the ladies into the vehicleas he didlikewiseMrs. Honourwhoafter many civilitiesand more dearmadamsatlast yielded to the well-bred importunities of her sisterAbigailand submitted to be complimented with the first ride in thecoach; inwhich indeed she would afterwards have been contented tohavepursued her whole journeyhad not her mistressafter severalfruitlessintimationsat length forced her to take her turn onhorseback.

  Thecoachnow having received its companybegan to moveforwardsattended by many servantsand led by two captainswhohad beforerode with his lordshipand who would have been dismissedfrom thevehicle upon a much less worthy occasion than was this ofaccommodatingtwo ladies. In this they acted only as gentlemen; butthey wereready at any time to have performed the office of a footmanor indeedwould have condescended lowerfor the honour of hislordship'scompanyand for the convenience of his table.

  Mylandlord was so pleased with the present he had received fromSophiathat he rather rejoiced in than regretted his bruise or hisscratches.The reader will perhaps be curious to know the quantum ofthispresent; but we cannot satisfy his curiosity. Whatever it wasitsatisfiedthe landlord for his bodily hurt; but he lamented he had notknownbefore how little the lady valued her money; "For to be sure"says he"one might have charged every article doubleand she wouldhave madeno cavil at the reckoning."

  Hiswifehoweverwas far from drawing this conclusion; whether shereallyfelt any injury done to her husband more than he did himselfIwill notsay: certain it isshe was much less satisfied with thegenerosityof Sophia. "Indeed" cries she"my dearthe ladyknowsbetter howto dispose of her money than you imagine. She might verywell thinkwe should not put up such a business without somesatisfactionand the law would have cost her an infinite deal morethan thispoor little matterwhich I wonder you would take."

"Youarealways sobloodily wise" quoth the husband: "it would have cost hermorewould it? dost fancy I don't know that as well as thee? butwould anyof that moreor so muchhave come into our pockets?Indeedifson Tom the lawyer had been aliveI could have been gladto haveput such a pretty business into his hands. He would have got agoodpicking out of it; but I have no relation now who is a lawyerand whyshould I go to law for the benefit of strangers?"

"Naytobe sure"answered she"you must know best."

"I believe do"repliedhe. "I fancywhen money is to be gotI can smell it out aswell asanother. Everybodylet me tell youwould not have talkedpeople outof this. Mind thatI say; everybody would not have cajoledthis outof hermind that." The wife then joined in the applause ofherhusband's sagacity; and thus ended the short dialogue between themon thisoccasion.

  Wewill therefore take our leave of these good peopleand attendhislordship and his fair companionswho made such good expeditionthat theyperformed a journey of ninety miles in two daysand onthe secondevening arrived in Londonwithout having encountered anyoneadventure on the road worthy the dignity of this history torelate.Our penthereforeshall imitate the expedition which itdescribesand our history shall keep pace with the travellers who areitssubject. Good writers willindeeddo well to imitate theingenioustraveller in this instancewho always proportions hisstay atany place to the beautieseleganciesand curiosities whichitaffords. At Eshurat Stoweat Wiltonat Eastburyand at Prior'sParkdaysare too short for the ravished imagination; while we admirethewondrous power of art in improving nature. In some of theseartchieflyengages our admiration; in othersnature and art contendfor ourapplause; butin the lastthe former seems to triumph.HereNature appears in her richest attireand Artdressed with themodestestsimplicityattends her benignant mistress. Here Natureindeedpours forth the choicest treasures which she hath lavished onthisworld; and here human nature presents you with an object whichcan beexceeded only in the other.

  Thesame tastethe same imaginationwhich luxuriously riots intheseelegant scenescan be amused with objects of far inferior note.The woodsthe riversthe lawns of Devon and of Dorsetattract theeye of theingenious travellerand retard his pacewhich delay heafterwardscompensates by swiftly scouring over the gloomy heath ofBagshotor that pleasant plain which extends itself westward fromStockbridgewhere no other object than one single tree only insixteenmiles presents itself to the viewunless the cloudsincompassionto our tired spiritskindly open their variegated mansionsto ourprospect.

  Notso travels the money-meditating tradesmanthe sagaciousjusticethe dignified doctorthe warm-clad grazierwith all thenumerousoffspring of wealth and dulness. On they jogwith equalpacethrough the verdant meadows or over the barren heaththeirhorsesmeasuring four miles and a half per hour with the utmostexactness;the eyes of the beast and of his master being alikedirectedforwardsand employed in contemplating the same objects inthe samemanner. With equal rapture the good rider surveys theproudestboasts of the architectand those fair buildings withwhich someunknown name hath adorned the rich cloathing town; whereheaps ofbricks are piled up as a kind of monument to show thatheaps ofmoney have been piled there before.

  Andnowreaderas we are in haste to attend our heroinewe willleave tothy sagacity to apply all this to the Boeotian writersandto thoseauthors who are their opposites. This thou wilt be abundantlyable toperform without our aid. Bestir thyself therefore on thisoccasion;forthough we will always lend thee proper assistance indifficultplacesas we do notlike some othersexpect thee to usethe artsof divination to discover our meaningyet we shall notindulgethy laziness where nothing but thy own attention isrequired;for thou art highly mistaken if thou dost imagine that weintendedwhen we began this great workto leave thy sagacity nothingto do; orthatwithout sometimes exercising this talentthou wilt beable totravel through our pages with any pleasure or profit tothyself.

Chapter10
Containinga hint or two concerning virtueand a few moreconcerningsuspicion

  Ourcompanybeing arrived at Londonwere set down at hislordship'shousewherewhile they refreshed themselves after thefatigue oftheir journeyservants were despatched to provide alodgingfor the two ladies; foras her ladyship was not then in townMrs.Fitzpatrick would by no means consent to accept a bed in themansion ofthe peer.

 Some readers willperhapscondemn this extraordinary delicacyas I maycall itof virtueas too nice and scrupulous; but we mustmakeallowances for her situationwhich must be owned to have beenveryticklish; andwhen we consider the malice of censorious tongueswe mustallowif it was a faultthe fault was an excess on the rightsideandwhich every woman who is in the self-same situation willdo well toimitate. The most formal appearance of virtuewhen it isonly anappearancemayperhapsin very abstracted considerationsseem to berather less commendable than virtue itself without thisformality;but it willhoweverbe always more commended; and thisIbelievewill be granted by allthat it is necessaryunless insome veryparticular casesfor every woman to support either theone or theother.

  Alodging being preparedSophia accompanied her cousin for thatevening;but resolved early in the morning to enquire after the ladyinto whoseprotectionas we have formerly mentionedshe haddeterminedto throw herself when she quitted her father's house. Andthis shewas the more eager in doingfrom some observations she hadmadeduring her journey in the coach.

 Nowas we would by no means fix the odious character of suspicionon Sophiawe are almost afraid to open to our reader the conceitswhichfilled her mind concerning Mrs. Fitzpatrick; of whom shecertainlyentertained at present some doubts; whichas they arevery aptto enter into the bosoms of the worst of peoplewe thinkproper notto mention more plainlytill we have first suggested aword ortwo to our reader touching suspicion in general.

  Ofthis there have always appeared to me to be two degrees. Thefirst ofthese I chuse to derive from the heartas the extremevelocityof its discernment seems to denote some previous inwardimpulseand the rather as this superlative degree often forms its ownobjects;sees what is notand always more than really exists. This isthatquick-sighted penetration whose hawk's eyes no symptom of evilcanescape; which observes not only upon the actionsbut upon thewords andlooksof men; andas it proceeds from the heart of theobserverso it dives into the heart of the observedand there espiesevilasit werein the first embryo; naysometimes before it can besaid to beconceived. An admirable facultyif it were infallible;butasthis degree of perfection is not even claimed by more than onemortalbeing; so from the fallibility of such acute discernment havearisenmany sad mischiefs and most grievous heart-aches to innocenceandvirtue. I cannot helpthereforeregarding this vastquick-sightednessinto evil as a vicious excessand as a veryperniciousevil in itself. And I am the more inclined to this opinionas I amafraid it always proceeds from a bad heartfor the reasonsI haveabove mentionedand for one morenamelybecause I never knewit theproperty of a good one. Nowfrom this degree of suspicion Ientirelyand absolutely acquit Sophia.

  Asecond degree of this quality seems to arise from the head. Thisisindeedno other than the faculty of seeing what is before youreyesandof drawing conclusions from what you see. The former ofthese isunavoidable by those who have any eyesand the latter isperhaps noless certain and necessary a consequence of our havinganybrains. This is altogether as bitter an enemy to guilt as theformer isto innocence: nor can I see it in an unamiable lighteventhoughthrough human fallibilityit should be sometimes mistaken.Forinstanceif a husband should accidentally surprize his wife inthe lap orin the embraces of some of those pretty young gentlemen whoprofessthe art of cuckold-makingI should not highlyI thinkblamehim forconcluding something more than what he sawfrom thefamiliaritieswhich he really had seenand which we are at leastfavourableenough towhen we call them innocent freedoms. Thereaderwill easily suggest great plenty of instances to himself; Ishall addbut one morewhichhowever unchristian it may be thoughtby someIcannot help esteeming to be strictly justifiable; andthis is asuspicion that a man is capable of doing what he hath donealreadyand that it is possible for one who hath been a villainonce toact the same part again. Andto confess the truthof thisdegree ofsuspicion I believe Sophia was guilty. From this degree ofsuspicionshe hadin factconceived an opinion that her cousin wasreally notbetter than she should be.

  Thecaseit seemswas this: Mrs. Fitzpatrick 'wisely consideredthat thevirtue of a young lady isin the worldin the samesituationwith a poor harewhich is certainwhenever it venturesabroadtomeet its enemies; for it can hardly meet any other. Nosoonertherefore was she determined to take the first opportunity ofquittingthe protection of her husbandthan she resolved to castherselfunder the protection of some other man; and whom could shesoproperly chuse to be her guardian as a person of qualityoffortuneof honour; and whobesides a gallant disposition whichinclinesmen to knighterrantrythat isto be the champions of ladiesindistresshad often declared a violent attachment to herselfandhadalready given her all the instances of it in his power?

 Butas the law hath foolishly omitted this office ofvice-husbandor guardian to an eloped ladyand as malice is apt todenominatehim by a more disagreeable appellationit was concludedthat hislordship should perform all such kind offices to the ladyin secretand without publickly assuming the character of herprotector.Nayto prevent any other person from seeing him in thislightitwas agreed that the lady should proceed directly to Bathand thathis lordship should first go to Londonand thence shouldgo down tothat place by the advice of his physicians.

  Nowall this Sophia very plainly understoodnot from the lips orbehaviourof Mrs. Fitzpatrickbut from the peerwho was infinitelylessexpert at retaining a secret than was the good lady; andperhapsthe exact secrecy which Mrs. Fitzpatrick had observed onthis headin her narrativeserved not a little to heighten thosesuspicionswhich were now risen in the mind of her cousin.

 Sophia very easily found out the lady she sought; for indeed therewas not achairman in town to whom her house was not perfectly wellknown;andas she receivedin return of her first messagea mostpressinginvitationshe immediately accepted it. Mrs. Fitzpatrickindeeddid not desire her cousin to stay with her with moreearnestnessthan civility required. Whether she had discerned andresentedthe suspicion above-mentionedor from what other motive itaroseIcannot say; but certain it isshe was full as desirous ofpartingwith Sophia as Sophia herself could be of going.

  Theyoung ladywhen she came to take leave of her cousincould notavoidgiving her a short hint of advice. She begged herforheaven'ssaketo care of herselfand to consider in how dangerousasituation she stood; addingshe hoped some method would be found ofreconcilingher to her husband. "You must remembermy dear" saysshe"themaxim which my aunt Western hath so often repeated to usboth; thatwhenever the matrimonial alliance is brokeand wardeclaredbetween husband and wifeshe can hardly make adisadvantageouspeace for herself on any conditions. These are myaunt'svery wordsand she hath had a great deal of experience intheworld." Mrs. Fitzpatrick answeredwith a contemptuous smile"Neverfear mechildtake care of yourself; for you are younger thanI. I willcome and visit you in a few days; butdear Sophylet megive youone piece of advice; leave the character of Graveairs inthecountryforbelieve meit will sit very awkwardly upon you inthistown."

 Thus the two cousins partedand Sophia repaired directly to LadyBellastonwhere she found a most heartyas well as a most politewelcome.The lady had taken a great fancy to her when she had seen herformerlywith her aunt Western. She was indeed extremely glad to seeherandwas no sooner acquainted with the reasons which induced herto leavethe squire and to fly to Londonthan she highly applaudedher senseand resolution; and after expressing the highestsatisfactionin the opinion which Sophia had declared sheentertainedof her ladyshipby chusing her house for an asylumshepromisedher all the protection which it was in her power to give.

  Aswe have now brought Sophia into safe handsthe reader willIapprehendbe contented to deposit her there a whileand to look alittleafter other personagesand particularly poor Joneswhom wehave leftlong enough to do penance for his past offenceswhichasis thenature of vicebrought sufficient punishment upon himthemselves.

BOOK XIICONTAININGTHE SAME INDIVIDUAL TIME WITH THE FORMER

Chapter1
Showingwhat is to be deemed plagiarism in a modern authorand whatis to beconsidered as lawful prize

  Thelearned reader must have observed that in the course of thismightyworkI have often translated passages out of the bestantientauthorswithout quoting the originalor without taking theleastnotice of the book from whence they were borrowed.

 This conduct in writing is placed in a very proper light by theingeniousAbbe Bannierin his preface to his Mythologya workgreaterudition and of equal judgment. "It will be easy" sayshe"forthe reader to observe that I have frequently had greater regardto himthan to my own reputation: for an author certainly pays him aconsiderablecomplimentwhenfor his sakehe suppresses learnedquotationsthat come in his wayand which would have cost him but thebaretrouble of transcribing."

  Tofill up a work with these scraps mayindeedbe considered asadownright cheat on the learned worldwho are by such meansimposedupon to buy a second timein fragments and by retailwhatthey havealready in grossif not in their memoriesupon theirshelves;and it is still more cruel upon the illiteratewho are drawnin to payfor what is of no manner of use to them. A writer whointermixesgreat quantity of Greek and Latin with his worksdealsby theladies and fine gentlemen in the same paultry manner with whichthey aretreated by the auctioneerswho often endeavour so toconfoundand mix up their lotsthatin order to purchase thecommodityyou wantyou are obliged at the same time to purchasethat whichwill do you no service.

  Andyetas there is no conduct so fair and disinterestedbutthat itmay be misunderstood by ignoranceand misrepresented bymaliceIhave been sometimes tempted to preserve my own reputation attheexpense of my readerand to transcribe the originalor atleast toquote chapter and versewhenever I have made use either ofthethought or expression of another. I amindeedin some doubt thatI haveoften suffered by the contrary method; and thatby suppressingtheoriginal author's nameI have been rather suspected of plagiarismthanreputed to act from the amiable motive assigned by that justlycelebratedFrenchman.

 Nowto obviate all such imputations for the futureI do hereconfessand justify the fact. The antients may be considered as a richcommonwhere every person who hath the smallest tenement in Parnassushath afree right to fatten his muse. Orto place it in a clearlightwemoderns are to the antients what the poor are to the rich.By thepoor here I mean that large and venerable body whichinEnglishwe call the mob. Nowwhoever hath had the honour to beadmittedto any degree of intimacy with this mobmust well knowthat it isone of their established maxims to plunder and pillagetheir richneighbours without any reluctance; and that this is held tobe neithersin nor shame among them. And so constantly do they abideand act bythis maximthatin every parish almost in the kingdomthere is akind of confederacy ever carrying on against a certainperson ofopulence called the squirewhose property is consideredas freebooty by all his poor neighbours; whoas they conclude thatthere isno manner of guilt in such depredationslook upon it as apoint ofhonour and moral obligation to concealand to preserveeach otherfrom punishment on all such occasions.

  Inlike manner are the antientssuch as HomerVirgilHoraceCiceroand the restto be esteemed among us writersas so manywealthysquiresfrom whom wethe poor of Parnassusclaim animmemorialcustom of taking whatever we can come at. This liberty Idemandand this I am as ready to allow again to my poor neighbours intheirturn. All I professand all I require of my brethrenis tomaintainthe same strict honesty among ourselves which the mob show tooneanother. To steal from one anotheris indeed highly criminalandindecent; for this may be strictly stiled defrauding the poor(sometimesperhaps those who are poorer than ourselves)orto set itunder themost opprobrious coloursrobbing the spittal.

 Sincethereforeupon the strictest examinationmy ownconsciencecannot lay any such pitiful theft to my chargeI amcontentedto plead guilty to the former accusation; nor shall I everscruple totake to myself any passage which I shall find in an antientauthor tomy purposewithout setting down the name of the author fromwhence itwas taken. NayI absolutely claim a property in all suchsentimentsthe moment they are transcribed into my writingsand Iexpect allreaders henceforwards to regard them as purely and entirelymy own.This claimhoweverI desire to be allowed me only onconditionthat I preserve strict honesty towards my poor brethrenfrom whomif ever I borrow any of that little of which they arepossessedI shall never fail to put their mark upon itthat it maybe at alltimes ready to be restored to the right owner.

  Theomission of this was highly blameable in one Mr. Moorewhohavingformerly borrowed some lines of Pope and companytook theliberty totranscribe six of them into his play of the Rival Modes.Mr. Popehoweververy luckily found them in the said playandlayingviolent hands on his own propertytransferred it back againinto hisown works; andfor a further punishmentimprisoned the saidMoore inthe loathsome dungeon of the Dunciadwhere his unhappymemory nowremainsand eternally will remainas a properpunishmentfor such his unjust dealings in the poetical trade.

Chapter2
In whichthough the squire doth not find his daughtersomething isfoundwhich puts an end to his pursuit

  Thehistory now returns to the inn at Uptonwhence we shall firsttrace thefootsteps of Squire Western; foras he will soon arriveat an endof his journeywe shall have then full leisure to attendour heroe.

  Thereader may be pleased to remember that the said squiredepartedfrom the inn in great furyand in that fury he pursued hisdaughter.The hostler having informed him that she had crossed theSevernhelikewise past that river with his equipageand rode fullspeedvowing the utmost vengeance against poor Sophiaif he shouldbutovertake her.

  Hehad not gone far before he arrived at a crossway. Here hecalled ashort council of warin whichafter hearing differentopinionshe at last gave the direction of his pursuit to fortuneandstruckdirectly into the Worcester road.

  Inthis road he proceeded about two mileswhen be began to bemoanhimselfmost bitterlyfrequently crying out"What a pity is it! Surenever wasso unlucky a dog as myself!" And then burst forth a volleyof oathsand execrations.

  Theparson attempted to administer comfort to him on thisoccasion."Sorrow notsir" says he"like those without hope.How beit we havenot yet been able to overtake young madamwe may accountit somegood fortune that we have hitherto traced her course aright.Peradventureshe will soon be fatigated with her journeyand willtarry insome innin order to renovate her corporeal functions; andin thatcasein all moral certaintyyou will very briefly becomposvoti."

 "Pogh! d--n the slut!" answered the squire"I amlamenting theloss of sofine a morning for hunting. It is confounded hard to loseone of thebest scenting daysin all appearancewhich hath been thisseasonand especially after so long a frost."

 Whether Fortunewho now and then shows some compassion in herwantonesttricksmight not take pity of the squire; andas she haddeterminednot to let him overtake his daughtermight not resolveto makehim amends some other wayI will not assert; but he hadhardlyuttered the words just before commemoratedand two or threeoaths attheir heelswhen a pack of hounds began to open theirmelodiousthroats at a small distance from themwhich the squire'shorse andhis rider both perceivingboth immediately pricked up theircarsandthe squirecrying"She's goneshe's gone! Damn me ifshe is notgone!" instantly clapped spurs to the beastwho littleneeded ithaving indeed the same inclination with his master; and nowthe wholecompanycrossing into a corn-fieldrode directly towardsthehoundswith much hallowing and whoopingwhile the poor parsonblessinghimselfbrought up the rear.

 Thus fable reportsthat the fair Grimalkinwhom Venusat thedesire ofa passionate loverconverted from a cat into a finewomannosooner perceived a mousethanmindful of her former sportand stillretaining her pristine natureshe leaped from the bed ofherhusband to pursue the little animal.

 What are we to understand by this? Not that the bride was displeasedwith theembraces of her amorous bridegroom; forthough some haveremarkedthat cats are subject to ingratitudeyet women and catstoo willbe pleased and purr on certain occasions. The truth isasthesagacious Sir Roger L'Estrange observesin his deepreflectionsthat"if we shut Nature out at the doorshe will comein at thewindow; and that pussthough a madamwill be a mouserstill."In the same manner we are not to arraign the squire of anywant oflove for his daughter; for in reality he had a great deal;we areonly to consider that he was a squire and a sportsmanand thenwe mayapply the fable to himand the judicious reflections likewise.

  Thehounds ran very hardas it is calledand the squire pursuedover hedgeand ditchwith all his usual vociferation and alacrityand withall his usual pleasure; nor did the thoughts of Sophia everonceintrude themselves to allay the satisfaction he enjoyed in thechacewhichhe saidwas one of the finest he ever sawand which heswore wasvery well worth going fifty miles for. As the squireforgot hisdaughterthe servantswe may easily believeforgot theirmistress;and the parsonafter having expressed much astonishmentinLatintohimselfat length likewise abandoned all farther thoughtsof theyoung ladyandjogging on at a distance behindbegan tomeditate aportion of doctrine for the ensuing Sunday.

  Thesquire who owned the hounds was highly pleased with thearrival ofhis brother squire and sportsman: for all men approve meritin theirown wayand no man was more expert in the field than Mr.Westernnor did any other better know how to encourage the dogswith hisvoiceand to animate the hunt with his holla.

 Sportsmenin the warmth of a chaceare too much engaged to attendto anymanner of ceremonynayeven to the offices of humanity:forifany of them meet with an accident by tumbling into a ditchorinto ariverthe rest pass on regardlessand generally leave himto hisfate: during this timethereforethe two squiresthoughoftenclose to each otherinterchanged not a single word. Themaster ofthe hunthoweveroften saw and approved the great judgmentof thestranger in drawing the dogs when they were at a faultandhenceconceived a very high opinion of his understandingas thenumber ofhis attendants inspired no small reverence to his quality.As soonthereforeas the sport was ended by the death of thelittleanimal which had occasioned itthe two squires metand in allsquire-likegreeting saluted each other.

  Theconversation was entertaining enoughand what we may perhapsrelate inan appendixor on some other occasion; but as it nowiseconcernsthis historywe cannot prevail on ourselves to give it aplacehere. It concluded with a second chaceand that with aninvitationto dinner. This being acceptedwas followed by a heartybout ofdrinkingwhich ended in as hearty a nap on the part of SquireWestern.

  Oursquire was by no means a match either for his hostor forparsonSuppleat his cups that evening; for which the violent fatigueof mind aswell as body that he had undergonemay very wellaccountwithout the least derogation from his honour. He wasindeedaccording to the vulgar phrasewhistle drunk; for before hehadswallowed the third bottlehe became so entirely overpoweredthatthough he was not carried off to bed till long aftertheparsonconsidered him as absentand having acquainted the othersquirewith all relating to Sophiahe obtained his promise ofsecondingthose arguments which he intended to urge the next morningfor Mr.Western's return.

  Nosoonerthereforehad the good squire shaken off his eveningand beganto call for his morning draughtand to summon his horses inorder torenew his pursuitthan Mr. Supple began his dissuasiveswhich thehost so strongly secondedthat they at length prevailedand Mr.Western agreed to return home; being principally moved byoneargumentviz.that he knew not which way to goand mightprobablybe riding farther from his daughter instead of towards her.He thentook leave of his brother sportsmanand expressing greatjoy thatthe frost was broken (which might perhaps be no smallmotive tohis hastening home)set forwardsor rather backwardsforSomersetshire; but not before he had first despatched part ofhisretinue in quest of his daughterafter whom he likewise sent avolley ofthe most bitter execrations which he could invent.

Chapter3
Thedeparture of Jones from Uptonwith what passed between himandPartridge on the road

  Atlength we are once more come to our heroe; andto say truthwe havebeen obliged to part with him so longthatconsidering theconditionin which we left himI apprehend many of our readers haveconcludedwe intended to abandon him for ever; he being at presentin thatsituation in which prudent people usually desist fromenquiringany farther after their friendslest they should be shockedby hearingsuch friends had hanged themselves.

 Butin realityif we have not all the virtuesI will boldlysayneither have we all the vices of a prudent character; andthough itis not easy to conceive circumstances much more miserablethan thoseof poor Jones at presentwe shall return to himandattendupon him with the same diligence as if he was wantoning inthebrightest beams of fortune.

  Mr.Jonesthenand his companion Partridgeleft the inn a fewminutesafter the departure of Squire Westernand pursued the sameroad onfootfor the hostler told them that no horses were by anymeans tobe at that time procured at Upton. On they marched with heavyhearts;for though their disquiet proceeded from very differentreasonsyet displeased they were both; and if Jones sighedbitterlyPartridge grunted altogether as sadly at every step.

 When they came to the cross-roads where the squire had stopt to takecounselJones stopt likewiseand turning to Partridgeasked hisopinionwhich track they should pursue. "Ahsir" answeredPartridge"Iwish your honour would follow my advice."

"Why should Inot?"repliedJones; "for it is now indifferent to me whither I goorwhatbecomes of me."

"My advicethen" said Partridge"isthat youimmediatelyface about and return home; for who that hath such ahome toreturn to as your honourwould travel thus about thecountrylike a vagabond? I ask pardonsed vox ea sola reperta est."

 "Alas!" cries Jones"I have no home to return to;-but if myfriendmyfatherwould receive mecould I bear the country fromwhichSophia is flown? Cruel Sophia! Cruel! No; let me blame myself!-No; let meblame thee. D--nation seize thee- fool- blockhead! thouhastundone meand I will tear thy soul from thy body."- At whichwords helaid violent hands on the collar of poor Partridgeand shookhim moreheartily than an ague-fitor his own fears had ever donebefore.

 Partridge fell trembling on his kneesand begged for mercyvowing hehad meant no harm- when Jonesafter staring wildly on himfor amomentquitted his holdand discharged a rage on himselfthathadit fallen on the otherwould certainly have put an end tohis beingwhich indeed the very apprehension of it had almosteffected.

  Wewould bestow some pains here in minutely describing all the madprankswhich Jones played on this occasioncould we be well assuredthat thereader would take the same pains in perusing them; but aswe areapprehensive thatafter all the labour which we shouldemploy inpainting this scenethe said reader would be very apt toskip itentirely overwe have saved ourselves that trouble. To saythe truthwe havefrom this reason aloneoften done greatviolenceto the luxuriance of our geniusand have left many excellentdescriptionsout of our workwhich would otherwise have been in it.And thissuspicionto be honestarisesas is generally the casefrom ourown wicked heart; for we haveourselvesbeen very oftenmosthorridly given to jumpingas we have run through the pages ofvoluminoushistorians.

 Suffice it then simply to saythat Jonesafter having played thepart of amadman for many minutescameby degreesto himself; whichno soonerhappenedthanturning to Partridgehe very earnestlybegged hispardon for the attack he had made on him in the violence ofhispassion; but concludedby desiring him never to mention hisreturnagain; for he resolved never to see that country any more.

  Partridgeeasily forgaveand faithfully promised to obey theinjunctionnow laid upon him. And then Jones very briskly cried out"Sinceit is absolutely impossible for me to pursue any farther thesteps ofmy angel- I will pursue those of glory. Come onmy braveladnowfor the army:- it is a glorious causeand I would willinglysacrificemy life in iteven though it was worth my preserving."And sosayinghe immediately struck into the different road from thatwhich thesquire had takenandby mere chancepursued the very samethroughwhich Sophia had before passed.

  Ourtravellers now marched a full milewithout speaking asyllableto each otherthough Jonesindeedmuttered many thingstohimself. As to Partridgehe was profoundly silent; for he was notperhapsperfectly recovered from his former fright; besideshe hadapprehensionsof provoking his friend to a second fit of wrathespeciallyas he now began to entertain a conceitwhich may notperhapscreate any great wonder in the reader. In shorthe began nowto suspectthat Jones was absolutely out of his senses.

  AtlengthJonesbeing weary of soliloquyaddressed himself to hiscompanionand blamed him for his taciturnity; for which the poorman veryhonestly accountedfrom his fear of giving offence. Andnow thisfear being pretty well removedby the most absolute promisesofindemnityPartridge again took the bridle from his tongue;whichperhapsrejoiced no less at regaining its libertythan ayoungcoltwhen the bridle is slipt from his neckand he is turnedloose intothe pastures.

  AsPartridge was inhibited from that topic which would have firstsuggesteditselfhe fell upon that which was next uppermost in hismindnamelythe Man of the Hill. "Certainlysir" says he"thatcouldnever be a manwho dresses himself and lives after such astrangemannerand so unlike other folks. Besideshis dietas theold womantold meis chiefly upon herbswhich is a fitter food for ahorse thana Christian: naylandlord at Upton says that theneighboursthereabouts have very fearful notions about him. It runsstrangelyin my head that it must have been some spiritwhoperhapsmight besent to forewarn us: and who knows but all that matterwhich hetold usof his going to fightand of his being takenprisonerand of the great danger he was in of being hangedmightbeintended as a warning to usconsidering what we are going about?besidesIdreamt of nothing all last night but of fighting; andmethoughtthe blood ran out of my noseas liquor out of a tap.Indeedsirinfandumreginajubes renovare dolorem."

 "Thy storyPartridge" answered Jones"is almost asill applied asthy Latin.Nothing can be more likely to happen than death to menwho gointo battle. Perhaps we shall both fall in it-and what then?"

"Whatthen?" replied Partridge; "why then there is an end of usisthere not?when I am goneall is over with me. What matters the causeto meorwho gets the victoryif I am killed? I shall never enjoyanyadvantage from it. What are all the ringing of bellsandbonfiresto one that is six foot under ground? there will be an endof poorPartridge."

"And an end of poor Partridge" criesJones"theremust beone time or other. If you love LatinI will repeatyou somefine lines out of Horacewhich would inspire courage intoa coward.

    'Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori:
    Mors et fugacem persequitur virum
      Nec parcit imbellis juventae
        Poplitibustimidoque tergo.'"

  "Iwish you would construe them" cries Partridge; "for Horaceisa hardauthorand I cannot understand as you repeat them."

  "Iwill repeat you a bad imitationor rather paraphraseof myown"said Jones; "for I am but an indifferent poet:

    Who would not die in his dear country's cause?
    Sinceif base fear his dastard step withdraws
    From death he cannot fly:- One common grave
    Receivesat lastthe coward and the brave."

 "That's very certain" cries Partridge. "AysureMors omnibuscommunis:but there is a great difference between dying in one's bed agreat manyyears hencelike a good Christianwith all our friendscryingabout usand being shot to-day or to-morrowlike a mad dog;orperhapshacked in twenty pieces with the swordand that toobefore wehave repented of all our sins. O Lordhave mercy upon us!to be surethe soldiers are a wicked kind of people. I never lovedto haveanything to do with them. I could hardly bring myself everto lookupon them as Christians. There is nothing but cursing andswearingamong them. I wish your honour would repent: I heartilywish youwould repent before it is too late; and not think of goingamongthem.- Evil communication corrupts good manners. That is myprincipalreason. For as for that matterI am no more afraid thananothermannot I; as to matter of that. I know all human fleshmust die;but yet a man may live many yearsfor all that. WhyI am amiddle-agedman nowand yet I may live a great number of years. Ihave readof several who have lived to be above a hundredand somea greatdeal above a hundred. Not that I hopeI mean that I promisemyselftolive to any such age as thatneither.- But if it be onlyto eightyor ninety. Heaven be praisedthat is a great ways off yet;and I amnot afraid of dying thenno more than another man; butsurelytoattempt death before a man's time is come seems to medownrightwickedness and presumption. Besidesif it was to do anygoodindeed; butlet the cause be what it willwhat mighty matter ofgood cantwo people do? andfor my partI understand nothing ofit. Inever fired off a gun above ten minutes in my life; and thenit was notcharged with bullets. And for the swordI never learned tofenceandknow nothing of the matter. And then there are thosecannonswhich certainly it must be thought the highest presumption togo in theway of; and nobody but a madman- I ask pardon; upon my soulI meant noharm; I beg I may not throw your honor into anotherpassion."

  "Beunder no apprehensionPartridge" cries Jones; "I am nowsowellconvinced of thy cowardicethat thou couldst not provoke me onanyaccount."

"Your honour" answered he"may callme cowardoranythingelse you please. If loving to sleep in a whole skin makes aman acowardnon immunes ab illis malis sumus. Inever read in mygrammarthat a man can't be a good man without fighting. Virbonus estquis?Qui consulta patrumqui leges juraque servat.Not a word offighting;and I am sure the scripture is so much against itthat aman shallnever persuade me he is a good Christian while he shedsChristianblood."

Chapter4
Theadventure of a beggar-man

 Just as Partridge had uttered that good and pious doctrinewithwhich thelast chapter concludedthey arrived at another cross-waywhen alame fellow in rags asked them for alms; upon which Partridgegave him asevere rebukesaying"Every parish ought to keep theirown poor."Jones then fell a-laughingand asked Partridge"if he wasnotashamedwith so much charity in his mouthto have no charityin hisheart. Your religion" says he"serves you only for anexcuse foryour faultsbut is no incentive to your virtue. Can anyman who isreally a Christian abstain from relieving one of hisbrethrenin such a miserable condition?" And at the same timeputtinghis handin his pockethe gave the poor object a shilling.

 "Master" cries the fellowafter thanking him"Ihave a curiousthing herein my pocketwhich I found about two miles offif yourworshipwill please to buy it. I should not venture to pull it outto everyone; butas you are so good a gentlemanand so kind tothe pooryou won't suspect a man of being a thief only because heis poor."He then pulled out a little gilt pocketbookand deliveredit intothe hands of Jones.

 Jones presently opened itand (guessreaderwhat he felt) sawin thefirst page the words Sophia Westernwritten by her own fairhand. Heno sooner read the name than he prest it close to his lips;nor couldhe avoid falling into some very frantic rapturesnotwithstandinghis company; butperhapsthese very raptures madehim forgethe was not alone.

 While Jones was kissing and mumbling the bookas if he had anexcellentbrown buttered crust in his mouthor as if he had reallybeen abook-wormor an author who had nothing to cat but his ownworksapiece of paper fell from its leaves to the groundwhichPartridgetook upand delivered to Joneswho presently perceivedit to be abank-bill. It wasindeedthe very bill which Westernhad givenhis daughter the night before her departure; and a Jew wouldhavejumped to purchase it at five shillings less than L100.

  Theeyes of Partridge sparkled at this newswhich Jones nowproclaimedaloud; and so did (though with somewhat a different aspect)those ofthe poor fellow who had found the book; and who (I hopefrom aprinciple of honesty) had never opened it: but we should notdealhonestly by the reader if we omitted to inform him of acircumstancewhich may be here a little materialviz.that thefellowcould not read.

 Joneswho had felt nothing but pure joy and transport from thefindingthe bookwas affected with a mixture of concern at this newdiscovery;for his imagination instantly suggested to himthat theowner ofthe bill might possibly want itbefore he should be ableto conveyit to her. He then acquainted the finderthat he knew thelady towhom the book belongedand would endeavour to find her out assoon aspossibleand return it her.

  Thepocket-book was a late present from Mrs. Western to her niece;it hadcost five-and-twenty shillingshaving been bought of acelebratedtoyman; but the real value of the silver which it containedin itsclaspwas about eighteen-pence; and that price the saidtoymanasit was altogether as good as when it first issued fromhis shopwould now have given for it. A prudent person wouldhoweverhave taken proper advantage of the ignorance of thisfellowand would not have offered more than a shillingor perhapssixpencefor it; naysome perhaps would have given nothingand leftthe fellowto his action of troverwhich some learned serjeants maydoubtwhether he couldunder these circumstanceshave maintained.

 Joneson the contrarywhose character was on the outside ofgenerosityand may perhaps not very unjustly have been suspected ofextravagancewithout any hesitation gave a guinea in exchange for thebook. Thepoor manwho had not for a long time before beenpossessedof so much treasuregave Mr. Jones a thousand thanksanddiscoveredlittle less of transport in his muscles than Jones hadbeforeshownwhen he had first read the name of Sophia Western.

  Thefellow very readily agreed to attend our travellers to the placewhere hehad found the pocket-book. Togetherthereforetheyproceededdirectly thither; but not so fast as Mr. Jones desired;for hisguide unfortunately happened to be lameand could notpossiblytravel faster than a mile an hour. As this placethereforewas at above three miles' distancethough the fellow hadsaidotherwisethe reader need not be acquainted how long they werein walkingit.

 Jones opened the book a hundred times during their walkkissed itas oftentalked much to himselfand very little to his companions.At allwhich the guide exprest some signs of astonishment toPartridge;who more than once shook his headand cryedPoorgentleman!orandum est ut sit mens sana in corpore sano.

  Atlength they arrived at the very spot where Sophia unhappily droptthepocket-bookand where the fellow had as happily found it. HereJonesoffered to take leave of his guideand to improve his pace; butthefellowin whom that violent surprize and joy which the firstreceipt ofthe guinea had occasioned was now considerably abatedand whohad now had sufficient time to recollect himselfput on adiscontentedlookandscratching his headsaid"He hoped hisworshipwould give him something more. Your worship" said he"willI hopetake it into your consideration that if I had notbeenhonest I might have kept the whole." Andindeedthis thereadermustconfess to have been true. "If the paper there" said he"beworthL100I am sure the finding it deserves more than a guinea.Besidessuppose your worship should never see the ladynor give ither- andthough your worship looks and talks very much like agentlemanyet I have only your worship's bare word; andcertainlyif theright owner ben't to be foundit all belongs to the firstfinder. Ihope your worship will consider of all these matters: I ambut a poormanand therefore don't desire to have all; but it isbutreasonable I should have my share. Your worship looks like agood manandI hopewill consider my honesty; for I might have kepteveryfarthingand nobody ever the wiser."

"I promise theeuponmyhonour"cries Jones"that I know the right ownerand will restoreit her."

"Nayyour worship" answered the fellow"may do asyouplease asto that; if you will but give me my sharethat isone-halfof themoneyyour honour may keep the rest yourself if you please;"andconcluded with swearingby a very vehement oath"that he wouldnevermention a syllable of it to any man living."

 "Lookeefriend" cries Jones"the right owner shallcertainly haveagain allthat she lost; and as for any farther gratuityI reallycannotgive it you at present; but let me know your nameand whereyou liveand it is more than possible you may hereafter havefurtherreason to rejoice at this morning's adventure."

  "Idon't know what you mean by venture" cries the fellow; "itseemsI mustventure whether you will return the lady her money or no; but Ihope yourworship will consider-"

"Comecome" said Partridge"tellhis honour your nameand where you may be found; I warrantyou willnever repent having the money into his hands." The fellowseeing nohopes of recovering the possession of the pocket-bookatlastcomplied in giving in his name and place of abodewhich Joneswrit upona piece of paper with the pencil of Sophia; and thenplacingthe paper in the same page where she had writ her namehecries out"Therefriendyou are the happiest man alive; I havejoinedyour name to that of an angel."

"I don't know anythingaboutangels"answered the fellow"but I wish you would give me a littlemoremoneyor else return me the pocket-book." Partridge now waxedwroth: hecalled the poor cripple by several vile and opprobriousnamesandwas absolutely proceeding to beat himbut Jones wouldnot sufferany such thing: and nowtelling the fellow he wouldcertainlyfind some opportunity of serving himMr. Jones departedas fast ashis heels would carry him; and Partridgeinto whom thethoughtsof the hundred pound had infused new spiritsfollowed hisleader;while the manwho was obliged to stay behindfell to cursingthem bothas well as his parents; "for had they" says he"sentmetocharity-school to learn to write and read and cast accountsIshouldhave known the value of these matters as well as other people."

Chapter5
Containingmore adventures which Mr. Jones and his companion meton theroad

  Ourtravellers now walked so fastthat they had very little time orbreath forconversation; Jones meditating all the way on SophiaandPartridgeon the bank-billwhichthough it gave him some pleasurecaused himat the same time to repine at fortunewhichin all hiswalkshadnever given him such an opportunity of showing his honesty.They hadproceeded above three mileswhen Partridgebeing unable anylonger tokeep up with Jonescalled to himand hima him a littleto slackenhis pace: with this he was the more ready to complyashe had forsome time lost the footsteps of the horseswhich thethaw hadenabled him to trace for several milesand he was now upon awidecommonwhere were several roads.

  Hehere therefore stopt to consider which of these roads he shouldpursue;when on a sudden they heard the noise of a drumthat seemedat nogreat distance. This sound presently alarmed the fears ofPartridgeand he cried out"Lord have mercy upon us all; they arecertainlya coming!"

"Who is coming?" cries Jones; for fear hadlongsincegiven place to softer ideas in his mind; and since his adventurewith thelame manhe had been totally intent on pursuing Sophiawithoutentertaining one thought of an enemy. "Who?" criesPartridge"whythe rebels: but why should I call them rebels? theymay bevery honest gentlemenfor anything I know to the contrary. Thedevil takehim that affronts themI say; I am sureif they havenothing tosay to meI will have nothing to say to thembut in acivil way.For Heaven's sakesirdon't affront them if they shouldcomeandperhaps they may do us no harm; but would it not be thewiser wayto creep into some of yonder bushestill they are goneby? Whatcan two unarmed men do perhaps against fifty thousand?Certainlynobody but a madman; I hope your honour is not offended; butcertainlyno man who hath mens sana in corpore sano--" Here Jonesinterruptedthis torrent of eloquencefear had inspiredsaying"Thatby the drum he perceived they were near some town." He then madedirectlytowards the place whence the noise proceededbiddingPartridge"take couragefor that he would lead him into no danger;andadding"it was impossible the rebels should be so near."

 Partridge was a little comforted with this last assurance; andthough hewould more gladly have gone the contrary wayhe followedhisleaderhis heart beating timebut not after the manner ofheroestothe music of the drumwhich ceased not till they hadtraversedthe commonand were come into a narrow lane.

  Andnow Partridgewho kept even pace with Jonesdiscoveredsomethingpainted flying in the aira very few yards before himwhichfancying to be the colours of the enemyhe fell a bellowing"OLordsirhere they are; there is the crown and coffin. Oh Lord! Inever sawanything so terrible; and we are within gun-shot of themalready."

 Jones no sooner looked upthan he plainly perceived what it waswhichPartridge had thus mistaken. "Partridge" says he"Ifancyyou willbe able to engage this whole army yourself; for by thecolours Iguess what the drum was which we heard beforeand whichbeats upfor recruits to a puppet-show."

  "Apuppet-show!" answered Partridgewith most eager transport."Andis itreally no more than that? I love a puppet-show of all thepastimesupon earth. Dogood sirlet us tarry and see it. BesidesIam quitefamished to death; for it is now almost darkand I havenot eat amorsel since three o'clock in the morning."

 They now arrived at an innor indeed an ale-housewhere Joneswasprevailed upon to stopthe rather as he had no longer anyassuranceof being in the road he desired. They walked both directlyinto thekitchenwhere Jones began to inquire if no ladies had passedthat wayin the morningand Partridge as eagerly examined into thestate oftheir provisions; and indeed his inquiry met with thebettersuccess; for Jones could not hear news of Sophia; butPartridgeto his great satisfaction found good reason to expectveryshortly the agreeable sight of an excellent smoaking dish of eggsand bacon.

  Instrong and healthy constitutions love hath a very differenteffectfrom what it causes in the puny part of the species. In thelatter itgenerally destroys all that appetite which tends towards theconservationof the individual; but in the formerthough it ofteninducesforgetfulnessand a neglect of foodas well as of everythingelse; yetplace a good piece of well-powdered buttock before ahungryloverand he seldom fails very handsomely to play his part.Thus ithappened in the present case; for though Jones perhapswanted aprompterand might have travelled much fartherhad hebeenalonewith an empty stomach; yet no sooner did he sit down tothe baconand eggsthan he fell to as heartily and voraciously asPartridgehimself.

 Before our travellers had finished their dinnernight came onand as themoon was now past the fullit was extremely dark.Partridgetherefore prevailed on Jones to stay and see thepuppet-showwhich was just going to beginand to which they wereveryeagerly invited by the master of the said showwho declaredthat hisfigures were the finest which the world had ever producedand thatthey had given great satisfaction to all the quality inevery townin England.

  Thepuppet-show was performed with great regularity and decency.It wascalled the fine and serious part of the Provoked Husband; andit wasindeed a very grave and solemn entertainmentwithout any lowwitorhumouror jests; orto do it no more than justicewithoutanythingwhich could provoke a laugh. The audience were all highlypleased. Agrave matron told the master she would bring her twodaughtersthe next nightas he did not show any stuff; and anattorney'sclerk and an exciseman both declaredthat the charactersof Lordand Lady Townley were well preservedand highly in nature.Partridgelikewise concurred with this opinion.

  Themaster was so highly elated with these encomiumsthat hecould notrefrain from adding some more of his own. He said"Thepresentage was not improved in anything so much as in theirpuppet-shows;whichby throwing out Punch and his wife Joanand suchidletrumperywere at last brought to be a rational entertainment.Iremember" said he"when I first took to the businessthere wasa greatdeal of low stuff that did very well to make folks laugh;but wasnever calculated to improve the morals of young peoplewhichcertainly ought to be principally aimed at in every puppet-show:for whymay not good and instructive lessons be conveyed this wayas well asany other? My figures are as big as the lifeand theyrepresentthe life in every particular; and I question not butpeoplerise from my little drama as much improved as they do fromthegreat."

"I would by no means degrade the ingenuity of yourprofession"answered Jones"but I should have been glad to have seenmy oldacquaintancemaster Punchfor all that; and so far fromimprovingI thinkby leaving out him and his merry wife Joanyouhavespoiled your puppet-show."

  Thedancer of wires conceived an immediate and high contempt forJonesfrom these words. And with much disdain in his countenancehereplied"Very probablysirthat may be your opinion; but Ihave thesatisfaction to know the best judges differ from youandit isimpossible to please every taste. I confessindeedsome of thequality atBathtwo or three years agowanted mightily to bringPunchagain upon the stage. I believe I lost some money for notagreeingto it; but let others do as they will; a little mattershallnever bribe me to degrade my own professionnor will I everwillinglyconsent to the spoiling the decency and regularity of mystagebyintroducing any such low stuff upon it."

 "Rightfriend" cries the clerk"you are very right.Alwaysavoid whatis low. There are several of my acquaintance in Londonwhoareresolved to drive everything which is low from the stage."

"Nothingcan be more proper" cries the excisemanpulling his pipefrom hismouth. "I remember" added he"(for I then lived withmylord) Iwas in the footman's gallerythe night when this play oftheProvoked Husband was acted first. There was a great deal of lowstuff init about a country gentleman come up to town to stand forparliament-man;and there they brought a parcel of his servants uponthe stagehis coachman I remember particularly; but the gentlemenin ourgallery could not bear anything so lowand they damned it. Iobservefriend you have left all that matter outand you are to becommendedfor it."

 "Naygentlemen" cries Jones"I can never maintainmy opinionagainst somany; indeedif the generality of his audience dislikehimthelearned gentleman who conducts the show might have donevery rightin dismissing Punch from his service."

  Themaster of the show then began a second harangueand said muchof thegreat force of exampleand how much the inferior part ofmankindwould be deterred from viceby observing how odious it was intheirsuperiors; when he was unluckily interrupted by an incidentwhichthough perhaps we might have omitted it at another timewecannothelp relating at presentbut not in this chapter.

Chapter6
From whichit may be inferred that the best things are liable tobemisunderstood and misinterpreted

  Aviolent uproar now arise in the entrywhere my landlady waswellcuffing her maid both with her fist and tongue. She had indeedmissed thewench from her employmentandafter a little searchhad foundher on the puppet-show stage in company with the MerryAndrewand in a situation not very proper to be described.

 Though Grace (for that was her name) had forfeited all title tomodesty;yet had she not impudence enough to deny a fact in whichshe wasactually surprized; shethereforetook another turnandattemptedto mitigate the offence. "Why do you beat me in this mannermistress?"cries the wench. "If you don't like my doingsyou may turnme away.If I am a w-e" (for the other had liberally bestowed thatappellationon her)"my betters are so as well as I. What was thefine ladyin the puppet show just now? I suppose she did not lie allnight outfrom her husband for nothing."

  Thelandlady now burst into the kitchenand fell foul on both herhusbandand the poor puppet-mover. "Herehusband" says she"youseetheconsequence of harbouring these people in your house. If onedoth drawa little drink the more for themone is hardly madeamends forthe litter they make; and then to have one's house made abawdy-houseof by such lousy vermin. In shortI desire you would begoneto-morrow morning; for I will tolerate no more such doings. It isonly theway to teach our servants idleness and nonsense; for to besurenothing better can be learned by such idle shows as these. Irememberwhen puppet-shows were made of good scripture storiesasJephthah'sRash Vowand such good thingsand when wicked people werecarriedaway by the devil. There was some sense in those matters;but as theparson told us last Sundaynobody believes in the devilnow-adays;and here you bring about a parcel of puppets drest uplike lordsand ladiesonly to turn the heads of poor country wenches;and whentheir heads are once turned topsy-turvyno wonder everythingelse isso."

 VirgilI thinktells usthat when the mob are assembled in ariotousand tumultuous mannerand all sorts of missile weapons flyaboutifa man of gravity and authority appears amongst themthetumult ispresently appeasedand the mobwhich when collected intoone bodymay be well compared to an asserect their long ears at thegraveman's discourse.

  Onthe contrarywhen a set of grave men and philosophers aredisputing;when wisdom herself may in a manner be considered aspresentand administering arguments to the disputants; should atumultarise among the mobor should one scoldwho is herselfequal innoise to a mighty mobappear among the said philosophers;theirdisputes cease in a momentwisdom no longer performs herministerialofficeand the attention of every one is immediatelyattractedby the scold alone.

 Thus the uproar aforesaidand the arrival of the landladysilencedthe masterof the puppet-showand put a speedy and final end tothat graveand solemn harangueof which we have given the reader asufficienttaste already. Nothing indeed could have happened so veryinopportuneas this accident; the most wanton malice of fortunecould nothave contrived such another stratagem to confound the poorfellowwhile he was so triumphantly descanting on the good moralsinculcatedby his exhibitions. His mouth was now as effectually stoptas that ofquack must beifin the midst of a declamation on thegreatvirtues of his pills and powdersthe corpse of one of hismartyrsshould be brought forthand deposited before the stageasatestimony of his skill.

 Insteadthereforeof answering my landladythe puppet-show manran out topunish his Merry Andrew; and now the moon beginning toput forthher silver lightas the poets call it (though she looked atthat timemore like a piece of copper)Jones called for hisreckoningand ordered Partridgewhom my landlady had just awakedfrom aprofound napto prepare for his journey; but Partridgehavinglatelycarried two pointsas my reader hath seen beforewasemboldenedto attempt a thirdwhich was to prevail with Jones to takeup alodging that evening in the house where he then was. Heintroducedthis with an affected surprize at the intention which Mr.Jonesdeclared of removing; andafter urging many excellent argumentsagainstithe at last insisted strongly that it could be to no mannerof purposewhatever; for thatunless Jones knew which way the ladywas goneevery step he took might very possibly lead him thefartherfrom her; "for you findsir" said he"by all thepeoplein thehousethat she is not gone this way. How much betterthereforewould it be to stay till the morningwhen we may expect tomeet withsomebody to inquire of?"

 This last argument had indeed some effect on Jonesand while he wasweighingitthe landlord threw all the rhetoric of which he wasmasterinto the same scale. "Suresir" said he"yourservantgives youmost excellent advice; for who would travel by night at thistime ofthe year?" He then began in the usual stile to trumpet forththeexcellent accommodation which his house afforded; and mylandladylikewise opened on the occasion-- Butnot to detain thereaderwith what is common to every host and hostessit is sufficientto tellhim Jones was at last prevailed on to stay and refresh himselfwith a fewhours' restwhich indeed he very much wanted; for he hadhardlyshut his eyes since he had left the inn where the accident ofthe brokenhead had happened.

  Assoon as Jones had taken a resolution to proceed no farther thatnighthepresently retired to restwith his two bedfellowsthepocket-bookand the muff; but Partridgewho at several times hadrefreshedhimself with several napswas more inclined to eatingthan tosleepingand more to drinking than to either.

  Andnow the storm which Grace had raised being at an endand mylandladybeing again reconciled to the puppet-manwho on his sideforgavethe indecent reflections which the good woman in her passionhad caston his performancesa face of perfect peace and tranquillityreigned inthe kitchen; where sat assembled round the firethelandlordand landlady of the housethe master of the puppet-showtheattorney'sclerkthe excisemanand the ingenious Mr. Partridge; inwhichcompany past the agreeable conversation which will be found inthe nextchapter.

Chapter7
Containinga remark or two of our ownand many more of the goodcompanyassembled in the kitchen

 Though the pride of Partridge did not submit to acknowledgehimself aservantyet he condescended in most particulars toimitatethe manners of that rank. One instance of this washisgreatlymagnifying the fortune of his companionas he called Jones:such is ageneral custom with all servants among strangersas none ofthem wouldwillingly be thought the attendant on a beggar: forthehigher thesituation of the master isthe higherconsequentlyisthat ofthe man in his own opinion; the truth of which observationappearsfrom the behaviour of all the footmen of the nobility.

 Butthough title and fortune communicate a splendor all aroundthemandthe footmen of men of quality and of estate think themselvesentitledto a part of that respect which is paid to the quality andestates oftheir mastersit is clearly otherwise with regard tovirtue andunderstanding. These advantages are strictly personalandswallow themselves all the respect which is paid to them. To saythe truththis is so very littlethat they cannot well afford to letany otherspartake with them. As these therefore reflect no honouron thedomesticso neither is he at all dishonoured by the mostdeplorablewant of both in his master. Indeed it is otherwise in thewant ofwhat is called virtue in a mistressthe consequence ofwhich wehave before seen: for in this dishonour there is a kind ofcontagionwhichlike that of povertycommunicates itself to all whoapproachit.

  Nowfor these reasons we are not to wonder that servants (I meanamong themen only) should have no great regard for the reputationof thewealth of their mastersand little or none at all for theircharacterin other pointsand thatthough they would be ashamed tobe thefootman of a beggarthey are not so to attend upon a rogueor ablockhead; and do consequently make no scruple to spread the fameof theiniquities and follies of their said masters as far aspossibleand this often with great humour and merriment. Inrealityafootman is often a wit as well as a beauat the expence ofthegentleman whose livery he wears.

 After Partridgethereforehad enlarged greatly on the vast fortuneto whichMr. Jones was heirhe very freely communicated anapprehensionwhich he had begun to conceive the day beforeand forwhichaswe hinted at that very timethe behaviour of Jones seemedto havefurnished a sufficient foundation. In shorthe was now prettywellconfirmed in an opinionthat his master was out of his witswith whichopinion he very bluntly acquainted the good company roundthe fire.

 With this sentiment the puppet-show man immediately coincided. "Iown"said he"the gentleman surprized me very muchwhen he talkedsoabsurdly about puppet-shows. It is indeed hardly to be conceivedthat anyman in his senses should be so much mistaken; what you saynowaccounts very well for all his monstrous notions. Poorgentleman!I am heartily concerned for him; indeed he hath a strangewildnessabout his eyes which I took notice of beforethough I didnotmention it."

  Thelandlord agreed with this last assertionand likewise claimedthesagacity of having observed it. "And certainly" added he"itmust beso; for no one but a madman would have thought of leaving sogood ahouse to ramble about the country at that time of night."

  Theexcisemanpulling his pipe from his mouthsaid"He thoughtthegentleman looked and talked a little wildly"; and then turningtoPartridge"if he be a madman" says he"he shouldnot be sufferedto travelthus about the country; for possibly he may do somemischief.It is a pity he was not secured and sent home to hisrelations."

  Nowsome conceits of this kind were likewise lurking in the mindofPartridge; foras he was now persuaded that Jones had run awayfrom Mr.Allworthyhe promised himself the highest rewards if hecould byany means convey him back. But fear of Jonesof whosefiercenessand strength he had seenand indeed feltsomeinstanceshad however represented any such scheme as impossible to beexecutedand had discouraged him from applying himself to form anyregularplan for the purpose. But no sooner did he hear the sentimentsof theexcisemanthan he embraced that opportunity of declaring hisownandexpressed a hearty wish that such a matter could be broughtabout.

 "Could be brought about!" says the exciseman: "whythere is nothingeasier."

 "Ah! sir" answered Partridge"you don't know what adevil of afellow heis. He can take me up with one handand throw me out atwindow;and he wouldtooif he did but imagine-"

 "Pogh!" says the exciseman"I believe I am as good aman as he.Besideshere are five of us."

  "Idon't know what five" cries the landladymy husband shallhavenothing to do in it. Nor shall any violent hands be laid uponanybody inmy house. The young gentleman is as pretty a younggentlemanas ever I saw in my lifeand I believe he is no more madthan anyof us. What do you tell of his having a wild look with hiseyes? theyare the prettiest eyes I ever sawand he hath theprettiestlook with them; and a very modest civil young man he is. Iam sure Ihave bepitied him heartily ever since the gentleman there inthe cornertold us he was crost in love. Certainly that is enough tomake anymanespecially such a sweet young gentleman as he istolook alittle otherwise than he did before. Ladyindeed! what thedevilwould the lady have better than such a handsome man with a greatestate? Isuppose she is one of your quality folksone of your Townlyladiesthat we saw last night in the puppet-showwho don't knowwhat theywould be at."

  Theattorney's clerk likewise declared he would have no concern inthebusiness without the advice of counsel. "Suppose" says he"anaction offalse imprisonment should be brought against uswhatdefencecould we make? Who knows what may be sufficient evidence ofmadness toa jury? But I only speak upon my own account; for itdon't lookwell for a lawyer to be concerned in these mattersunless itbe as a lawyer. Juries are always less favourable to us thanto otherpeople. I don't therefore dissuade youMr. Thomson (to theexciseman)nor the gentlemannor anybody else."

  Theexciseman shook his head at this speechand the puppet-show mansaid"Madness was sometimes a difficult matter for a jury todecide:for I remember" says he"I was once present at a tryal ofmadnesswhere twenty witnesses swore that the person was as mad asa Marchhare; and twenty othersthat he was as much in his sensesas any manin England.- And indeed it was the opinion of most peoplethat itwas only a trick of his relations to rob the poor man of hisright."

 "Very likely!" cries the landlady. "I myself knew apoor gentlemanwho waskept in a mad-house all his life by his familyand theyenjoyedhis estatebut it them no good; for though the law gave itthemitwas the right of another."

 "Pogh!" cries the clerkwith great contempt"whohath any rightbut whatthe law gives them? If the law gave me the best estate in thecountryIshould never trouble myself much who had the right."

  "Ifit be so" says Partridge"Felix quemfaciunt aliena periculacautum."

  Mylandlordwho had been called out by the arrival of a horseman atthe gatenow returned into the kitchenand with an affrightedcountenancecried out"What do you thinkgentlemen? The rebelshave giventhe duke the slipand are got almost to London. It iscertainlytruefor a man on horseback just now told me so."

  "Iam glad of it with all my heart" cries Partridge; "thentherewill be nofighting in these parts."

  "Iam glad" cries the clerk"for a better reason; for Iwouldalwayshave right take place."

 "Aybut" answered the landlord"I have heard somepeople say thisman noright."

  "Iwill prove the contrary in a moment" cries the clerk: "ifmyfatherdies seized of a right; do you mind meseized of a rightIsay; dothnot that right descend to his son; and doth not one rightdescend aswell as another?"

 "But how can he have any right to make us papishes?" saysthelandlord.

 "Never fear that" cries Partridge. "As to the matterof rightthegentleman there hath proved it as clear as the sun; and as tothe matterof religionit is quite out of the case. The papiststhemselvesdon't expect any such thing. A popish priestwhom I knowvery welland who is a very honest mantold me upon his word andhonourthey had no such design."

 "And another priestof my acquaintance" said thelandlady"hathtold methe same thing; but my husband is always so afraid ofpapishes.I know a great many papishes that are very honest sort ofpeopleand spend their money very freely; and it is always a maximwith methat one man's money is as good as another's."

 "Very truemistress" said the puppet-show man"Idon't carewhatreligion comes; provided the Presbyterians are not uppermost; forthey areenemies to puppet-shows."

 "And so you would sacrifice your religion to your interest"criestheexciseman; "and are desirous to see popery brought inare you?"

 "Not Itruly" answered the other; "I hate popery asmuch anyman; butyet it is a comfort to onethat one should be able to liveunder itwhich I could not do among Presbyterians. To be sureevery manvalues his livelihood first; that must be granted; and Iwarrantif you would confess the truthyou are more afraid of losingyour placethan anything else; but never fearfriendthere will bean exciseunder another government as well as under this."

 "Whycertainly" replied the exciseman"I should bea very ill manif I didnot honour the kingwhose bread I eat. That is no morethannaturalas a man may say: for what signifies it to me that therewould bean excise office under another governmentsince my friendswould beoutand I could expect no better than to follow them? NonofriendI shall never be bubbled out of my religion in hopesonly ofkeeping my place under another government; for I shouldcertainlybe no betterand very probably might be worse."

 "Whythat is what I say" cries the landlord"wheneverfolks saywho knowswhat may happen! Odsooks! should not I be a blockhead tolend mymoney to I know not whobecause mayhap he may return itagain? Iam sure it is safe in my own bureauand there I will keepit."

  Theattorney's clerk had taken a great fancy to the sagacity ofPartridge.Whether this proceeded from the great discernment which theformer hadinto menas well as thingsor whether it arose from thesympathybetween their minds; for they were both truly Jacobites inprinciple;they now shook hands heartilyand drank bumpers ofstrongbeer to healths which we think proper to bury in oblivion.

 These healths were afterwards pledged by all presentand even by mylandlordhimselfthough reluctantly; but he could not withstand themenaces ofthe clerkwho swore he would never set his foot within hishouseagainif he refused. The bumpers which were swallowed on thisoccasionsoon put an end to the conversation. Herethereforewe willput an endto the chapter.

Chapter8
In whichfortune seems to have been in a better humour with Jonesthan wehave hitherto seen her

  Asthere is no wholesomerso perhaps there are few strongersleepingpotions than fatigue. Of this Jones might be said to havetaken avery large doseand it operated very forcibly upon him. Hehadalready slept nine hoursand might perhaps have slept longerhadhe notbeen awakened by a most violent noise at his chamber-doorwhere thesound of many heavy blows was accompanied with manyexclamationsof murder. Jones presently leapt from his bedwhere hefound themaster of the puppet-show belabouring the back and ribs ofhis poorMerry-Andrewwithout either mercy or moderation.

 Jones instantly interposed on behalf of the suffering partyandpinned theinsulting conqueror up to the wall: for the puppet-show manwas nomore able to contend with Jonesthan the poor party-colouredjester hadbeen to contend with this puppet-man.

  Butthough the Merry-Andrew was a little fellowand not verystronghehad nevertheless some choler about him. He therefore nosoonerfound himself delivered from the enemythan he began to attackhim withthe only weapon at which he was his equal. From this he firstdischargeda volley of general abusive wordsand thence proceededto someparticular accusations

"D--n your bl--dyou rascal" sayshe"Ihave not only supported you (for to me you owe all the moneyyou get)but I have saved you from the gallows. Did you not want torob thelady of her fine riding-habitno longer ago than yesterdayin theback-lane here? Can you deny that you wished to have her alonein a woodto strip her- to strip one of the prettiest ladies thatever wasseen in the world? and here you have fallen upon meand havealmostmurdered mefor doing no harm to a girl as willing asmyselfonly because she likes me better than you."

 Jones no sooner heard this than he quitted the masterlaying on himat thesame time the most violent injunctions of forbearance fromanyfurther insult on the Merry-Andrew; and then taking the poorwretchwith into his own apartmenthe soon learned tidings of hisSophiawhom the fellowas he was attending his master with hisdrum theday beforehad seen pass by. He easily prevailed with thelad toshow him the exact placeand then having summoned Partridgehedeparted with the utmost expedition.

  Itwas almost eight of the clock before all matters could be gotready forhis departure: for Partridge was not in any hastenor couldthereckoning be presently adjusted; and when both these weresettledand overJones would not quit the place before he hadperfectlyreconciled all differences between the master and the man.

 When this was happily accomplishedhe set forwardsand was bythe trustyMerry-Andrew conducted to the spot by which Sophia hadpast; andthen having handsomely rewarded his conductorhe againpushed onwith the utmost eagernessbeing highly delighted with theextraordinarymanner in which he received his intelligence. Of thisPartridgewas no sooner acquaintedthan hewith great earnestnessbegan toprophesyand assured Jones that he would certainly have goodsuccess inthe end: forhe said"two such accidents could never havehappenedto direct him after his mistressif Providence had notdesignedto bring them together at last." And this was the firsttime thatJones lent any attention to the superstitious doctrines ofhiscompanion.

 They had not gone above two miles when a violent storm of rainovertookthem; andas they happened to be at the same time in sightof anale-housePartridgewith much earnest entreatyprevailed withJones toenterand weather the storm. Hunger is an enemy (if indeedit may becalled one) which partakes more of the English than of theFrenchdisposition; forthough you subdue this never so oftenitwillalways rally again in time; and so it did with Partridgewho wasno soonerarrived within the kitchenthan he began to ask the samequestionswhich he had asked the night before. The consequence of thiswas anexcellent cold chine being produced upon the tableuponwhich notonly Partridgebut Jones himselfmade a very heartybreakfastthough the latter began to grow again uneasyas the peopleof thehouse could give him no fresh information concerning Sophia.

 Their meal being overJones was again preparing to sallynotwithstandingthe violence of the storm still continued; butPartridgebegged heartily for another mug; and at last casting hiseyes on alad at the firewho had entered into the kitchenand whoat thatinstant was looking as earnestly at himhe turned suddenly toJonesandcried"Mastergive me your handa single mug shan'tserve theturn this bout. Whyhere's more news of Madam Sophia cometo town.The boy there standing by the fire is the very lad thatrodebefore her. I can swear to my own plaister on his face."

"Heavensbless yousir" cries the boy"it is your own plaistersureenough; Ishall have always reason to remember your goodness; for ithathalmost cured me."

  Atthese words Jones started from his chairandbidding the boyfollow himimmediatelydeparted from the kitchen into a privateapartment;forso delicate was he with regard to Sophiathat heneverwillingly mentioned her name in the presence of many people;andthough he hadas it werefrom the overflowings of his heartgivenSophia as a toast among the officerswhere he thought it wasimpossibleshe should be known; yeteven therethe reader mayrememberhow difficultly he was prevailed upon to mention her sirname.

 Hardthereforewas itand perhapsin the opinion of manysagaciousreadersvery absurd and monstrousthat he shouldprincipallyowe his present misfortune to the supposed want of thatdelicacywith which he so abounded; forin realitySophia was muchmoreoffended at the freedoms which she thought (and not withoutgoodreason) he had taken with her name and characterthan at anyfreedomsin whichunder his present circumstanceshe had indulgedhimselfwith the person of another woman; and to say truthIbelieveHonour could never have prevailed on her to leave Uptonwithouther seeing Joneshad it not been for those two stronginstancesof a levity in his behaviourso void of respectand indeedso highlyinconsistent with any degree of love and tenderness in greatanddelicate minds.

  Butso matters fell outand so I must relate them; and if anyreader isshocked at their appearing unnaturalI cannot help it. Imustremind such persons that I am not writing a systembut ahistoryand I am not obliged to reconcile every matter to thereceivednotions concerning truth and nature. But if this was never soeasy todoperhaps it might be more prudent in me to avoid it. Forinstanceas the fact at present before us now standswithout anycomment ofmine upon itthough it may at first sight offend somereadersyetupon more mature considerationit must please all;for wiseand good men may consider what happened to Jones at Uptonas a justpunishment for his wickedness with regard to womenof whichit wasindeed the immediate consequence; and silly and bad persons maycomfortthemselves in their vicesby flattering their own hearts thatthecharacters of men are rather owing to accident than to virtue.Nowperhapsthe reflections which we should be here inclined todrawwould alike contradict both these conclusionsand would showthat theseincidents contribute only to confirm the greatusefulanduncommondoctrinewhich it is the purpose of this whole work toinculcateand which we must not fill up our pages by frequentlyrepeatingas an ordinary parson fills his sermon by repeating histext atthe end of every paragraph.

  Weare contented that it must appearhowever unhappily Sophia haderred inher opinion of Jonesshe had sufficient reason for heropinion;sinceI believeevery other young lady wouldin hersituationhave erred in the same manner. Nayhad she followed herlover atthis very timeand had entered this very alehouse the momenthe wasdeparted from itshe would have found the landlord as wellacquaintedwith her name and person as the wench at Upton had appearedto be. Forwhile Jones was examining his boy in whispers in an innerroomPartridgewho had no such delicacy in his dispositionwas inthekitchen very openly catechising the other guide who had attendedMrs.Fitzpatrick; by which means the landlordwhose ears were open onall suchoccasionsbecame perfectly well acquainted with the tumbleof Sophiafrom her horse&c.with the mistake concerning JennyCameronwith the many consequences of the punchandin shortwithalmost everything which had happened at the innwhence wedispatchedour ladies in a coach-and-six when we last took ourleaves ofthem.

Chapter9
Containinglittle more than a few odd observations

 Jones had been absent a full half-hourwhen he returned into thekitchen ina hurrydesiring the landlord to let him know that instantwhat wasto pay. And now the concern which Partridge felt at beingobliged toquit the warm chimney-cornerand a cup of excellentliquorwas somewhat compensated by hearing that he was to proceedno fartheron footfor Jonesby golden argumentshad prevailed withthe boy toattend him back to the inn whither he had beforeconductedSophia; but to this however the lad consenteduponconditionthat the other guide would wait for him at the alehouse;becauseas the landlord at Upton was an intimate acquaintance ofthelandlord at Gloucesterit might some time or other come to theears ofthe latterthat his horses had been let to more than oneperson;and so the boy might be brought to account for money whichhe wiselyintended to put in his own pocket.

  Wewere obliged to mention this circumstancetrifling as it mayseemsince it retarded Mr. Jones a considerable time in his settingout; forthe honesty of this latter boy was somewhat high- that issomewhathigh-pricedand would indeed have cost Jones very dearhad notPartridgewhoas we have saidwas a very cunning fellowartfullythrown in half-a-crown to be spent at that very alehousewhile theboy was waiting for his companion. This half-crown thelandlordno sooner got scent ofthan he opened after it with suchvehementand persuasive outcrythat the boy was soon overcomeandconsentedto take half-a-crown more for his stay. Here we cannothelpobservingthat as there is so much of policy in the lowest lifegreat menoften overvalue themselves on these refinements inimposturein which they are frequently excelled by some of the lowestof thehuman species.

  Thehorses being now producedJones directly leapt into theside-saddleon which his dear Sophia had rid. The ladindeedverycivillyoffered him the use of his: but he chose the side-saddleprobablybecause it was softer. Partridgehoweverthough full aseffeminateas Jonescould not bear the thoughts of degrading hismanhood;he therefore accepted the boy's offer: and nowJones beingmounted onthe side-saddle of his Sophiathe boy on that of Mrs.Honourand Partridge bestriding the third horsethey set forwards ontheirjourneyand within four hours arrived at the inn where thereaderhath already spent so much time. Partridge was in very highspiritsduring the whole wayand often mentioned to Jones the manygood omensof his future successwhich had lately befriended him; andwhich thereaderwithout being the least superstitiousmust allow tohave beenparticularly fortunate. Partridge was moreover betterpleasedwith the present pursuit of his companionthan he had beenwith hispursuit of glory; and from these very omenswhich assuredthepedagogue of successhe likewise first acquired a clear idea ofthe amourbetween Jones and Sophia; to which he had before givenverylittle attentionas he had originally taken a wrong scentconcerningthe reasons of Jones's departure; and as to what happenedat Uptonhe was too much frightened just before and after his leavingthatplaceto draw any other conclusions from thencethan thatpoor Joneswas a downright madman: a conceit which was not at alldisagreeableto the opinion he before had of his extraordinarywildnessof whichhe thoughthis behaviour on their quittingGloucesterso well justified all the accounts he had formerlyreceived.He was nowhoweverpretty well satisfied with hispresentexpeditionand henceforth began to conceive much worthiersentimentsof his friend's understanding.

  Theclock had just struck three when they arrivedand Jonesimmediatelybespoke posthorses; but unluckily there was not a horse tobeprocured in the whole place; which the reader will not wonder atwhen heconsiders the hurry in which the whole nationandespeciallythis part of itwas at this time engagedwhen expresseswerepassing and repassing every hour of the day and night.

 Jones endeavoured all he could to prevail with his former guide toescortehim to Coventry; but he was inexorable. While he was arguingwith theboy in the inn-yarda person came up to himand salutinghim by hisnameinquired how all the good family did inSomersetshire;and now Jones casting his eyes upon this personpresentlydiscovered him to be Mr. Dowlingthe lawyerwith whom hehad dinedat Gloucesterand with much courtesy returned thesalutation.

 Dowling very earnestly pressed Mr. Jones to go no further thatnight; andbacked his solicitations with many unanswerableargumentssuch asthat it was almost darkthat the roads wereverydirtyand that he would be able to travel much better byday-lightwith many others equally goodsome of which Jones hadprobablysuggested to himself before; but as they were thenineffectualso they were still: and he continued resolute in hisdesigneven though he should be obliged to set out on foot.

 When the good attorney found he could not prevail on Jones tostayheas strenuously applied himself to persuade the guide toaccompanyhim. He urged many motives to induce him to undertake thisshortjourneyand at last concluded with saying"Do you think thegentlemanwon't very well reward you for your trouble?"

  Twoto one are odds at every other thingas well as at footfall.But theadvantage which this united force hath in persuasion orentreatymust have been visible to a curious observer; for he musthave oftenseenthat when a fathera mastera wifeor any otherperson inauthorityhave stoutly adhered to a denial against allthereasons which a single man could producethey have afterwardsyielded tothe repetition of the same sentiments by a second orthirdpersonwho hath undertaken the causewithout attempting toadvanceanything new in its behalf. And henceperhapsproceeds thephrase ofseconding an argument or a motionand the great consequencethis is ofin all assemblies of public debate. Hencelikewiseprobablyit isthat in our courts of law we often hear a learnedgentleman(generally a serjeant) repeating for an hour together whatanotherlearned gentlemanwho spoke just before himhad been saying.

 Instead of accounting for thiswe shall proceed in our usual mannertoexemplify it in the conduct of the lad above mentionedwhosubmittedto the persuasions of Mr. Dowlingand promised once more toadmitJones into his side-saddle; but insisted on first giving thepoorcreatures a good baitsayingthey had travelled a great wayand beenrid very hard. Indeed this caution of the boy was needless;for Jonesnotwithstanding his hurry and impatiencewould haveorderedthis of himself; for he by no means agreed with the opinion ofthose whoconsider animals as mere machinesand when they burytheirspurs in the belly of their horseimagine the spur and thehorse tohave an equal capacity of feeling pain.

 While the beasts were eating their cornor rather were supposedto eat it(foras the boy was taking care of himself in thekitchenthe ostler took great care that his corn should not beconsumedin the stable)Mr. Jonesat the earnest desire of Mr.Dowlingaccompanied that gentleman into his roomwhere they sat downtogetherover a bottle of wine.

Chapter10
In whichMr. Jones and Mr. Dowling drink a bottle together

  Mr.Dowlingpouring out a glass of winenamed the health of thegoodSquire Allworthy; adding"If you pleasesirwe will likewiserememberhis nephew and heirthe young squire: Comesirhere'sMr. Blifilto youa very pretty young gentleman; and whoI dareswearwill hereafter make a very considerable figure in hiscountry. Ihave a borough for him myself in my eye."

 "Sir" answered Jones"I am convinced you don'tintend to affrontmeso Ishall not resent it; but I promise youyou have joined twopersonsvery improperly together; for one is the glory of the humanspeciesand the other is a rascal who dishonours the name of man."

 Dowling stared at this. He said"He thought both the gentlemenhad a veryunexceptionable character. As for Squire Allworthyhimself"says he"I never had the happiness to see him; but allthe worldtalks of his goodness. Andindeedas to the younggentlemanI never saw him but oncewhen I carried to him the news ofthe lossof his mother; and then I was so hurriedand droveand torewith themultiplicity of businessthat I had hardly time toconversewith him; but he looked so like a very honest gentlemanandbehaved himself so prettilythat I protest I never was moredelightedwith any gentleman since I was born."

  "Idon't wonder" answered Jones"that he should impose uponyou inso shortan acquaintance; for he hath the cunning of the devilhimselfand you may live with him many yearswithout discoveringhim. I wasbred up with him from my infancyand we were hardly everasunder;but it is very lately only that I have discovered half thevillanywhich is in him. I own I never greatly liked him. I thought hewantedthat generosity of spiritwhich is the sure foundation ofall thatis great and noble in human nature. I saw a selfishness inhim longago which I despised; but it is latelyvery latelythat Ihave foundhim capable of the basest and blackest designs; forindeedIhave at last found outthat he hath taken an advantage oftheopenness of my own temperand hath concerted the deepest projectby a longtrain of wicked artificeto work my ruinwhich at lasthe hatheffected."

 "Ay! ay!" cries Dowling; "I protestthenit is apity such apersonshould inherit the great estate of your uncle Allworthy."

 "Alassir" cries Jones"you do me an honour towhich I have notitle. Itis trueindeedhis goodness once allowed me the liberty ofcallinghim by a much nearer name; but as this was only a voluntaryact ofgoodnessI can complain of no injustice when he thinksproper todeprive me of this honour; since the loss cannot be moreunmeritedthan the gift originally was. I assure yousirI am norelationof Mr. Allworthy; and if the worldwho are incapable ofsetting atrue value on his virtueshould thinkin his behaviourto mehehath dealt hardly by a relationthey do an injustice to thebest ofmen: for I- but I ask your pardonI shall trouble you withnoparticulars relating to myself; only as you seemed to think me arelationof Mr. AllworthyI thought proper to set you right in amatterthat might draw some censures upon himwhich I promise you Iwouldrather lose my life than give occasion to."

  "Iprotestsir" cried Dowling"you talk very much like aman ofhonour;but instead of giving me any troubleI protest it wouldgive megreat pleasure to know how you came to be thought a relationof Mr.Allworthy'sif you are not. Your horses won't be ready thishalf-hourand as you have sufficient opportunityI wish you wouldtell mehow all that happened; for I protest it seems verysurprizingthat you should pass for a relation of a gentlemanwithoutbeing so."

 Joneswho in the compliance of his disposition (though not in hisprudence)a little resembled his lovely Sophiawas easily prevailedon tosatisfy Mr. Dowling's curiosityby relating the history ofhis birthand educationwhich he didlike Othello

    ---Even from his boyish years
    To th' very moment he was bad to tell:

the whichto hearDowlinglike Desdemonadid seriously incline;

    He swore 'twas strange'twas passing strange;
    'Twas pitiful'twas wonderous pitiful.

  Mr.Dowling was indeed very greatly affected with this relation; forhe had notdivested himself of humanity by being an attorney.Indeednothing is more unjust than to carry our prejudices againstaprofession into private lifeand to borrow our idea of a man fromouropinion of his calling. Habitit is truelessens the horror ofthoseactions which the profession makes necessaryand consequentlyhabitual;but in all other instancesNature works in men of allprofessionsalike; nayperhapseven more strongly with those whogive heras it werea holidaywhen they are following theirordinarybusiness. A butcherI make no doubtwould feelcompunctionat the slaughter of a fine horse; and though a surgeon canfeel nopain in cutting off a limbI have known him compassionate aman in afit of the gout. The common hangmanwho hath stretched thenecks ofhundredsis known to have trembled at his first operation ona head:and the very professors of human blood sheddingwhoin theirtrade ofwarbutcher thousandsnot only of theirfellow-professorsbut often of women and childrenwithout remorse;eventheseI sayin times of peacewhen drums and trumpets are laidasideoften lay aside all their ferocityand become very gentlemembers ofcivil society. In the same manner an attorney may feelall themiseries and distresses of his fellow-creaturesprovided hehappensnot to be concerned against them.

 Jonesas the reader knowswas yet unacquainted with the very blackcolours inwhich he had been represented to Mr. Allworthy; and as toothermattershe did not shew them in the most disadvantageous light;for thoughhe was unwilling to cast any blame on his former friend andpatron;yet he was not very desirous of heaping too much upon himself.Dowlingtherefore observedand not without reasonthat very illofficesmust have been done him by somebody: "For certainly" crieshe"thesquire would never have disinherited you only for a fewfaultswhich any young gentleman might have committed. IndeedIcannotproperly say disinherited: for to be sure by law you cannotclaim asheir. That's certain; that nobody need go to counsel for. Yetwhen agentleman had in a manner adopted you thus as his own sonyou mightreasonably have expected some very considerable partif notthe whole;nayif you had expected the wholeI should not haveblamedyou: for certainly all men are for getting as much as they canand theyare not to be blamed on that account."

 "Indeed you wrong me" said Jones; "I should have beencontentedwith verylittle: I never had any view upon Mr. Allworthy's fortune;nayIbelieve I may truly sayI never once considered what hecould ormight give me. This I solemnly declareif he had done aprejudiceto his nephew in my favourI would have undone it again.I hadrather enjoy my own mind than the fortune of another man. Whatis thepoor pride arising from a magnificent housea numerousequipagea splendid tableand from all the other advantages orappearancesof fortunecompared to the warmsolid contenttheswellingsatisfactionthe thrilling transportsand the exultingtriumphswhich a good mind enjoysin the contemplation of agenerousvirtuousnoblebenevolent action? I envy not Blifil in theprospectof his wealth; nor shall I envy him in the possession ofit. Iwould not think myself a rascal half an hourto exchangesituations.I believeindeedMr. Blifil suspected me of the viewsyoumention; and I suppose these suspicionsas they arose from thebasenessof his own heartso they occasioned his baseness to me. ButI thankHeavenI knowI feel- I feel my innocencemy friend; and Iwould notpart with that feeling for the world. For as long as Iknow Ihave never donenor even designedan injury to any beingwhatever

    Pone me pigris ubi nulla campis
    Arbor aestiva recreatur aura
    Quod latus mundi nebulaemalusque
        Jupiter urget.
 
    Pone sub curru nimium propinqui
    Solis in terra dominibus negata;
    Dulce ridentem Lalagen amabo
        Dulce loquentem." 

  Hethen filled a bumper of wineand drunk off to the health ofhis dearLalage; andfilling Dowling's glass likewise up to the briminsistedon his pledging him. "Whythenhere's Miss Lalage'shealthwith all my heart" cries Dowling. "I have heard hertoastedoftenIprotestthough I never saw her; but they say she's extremelyhandsome."

 Though the Latin was not the only part of this speech whichDowlingdid not perfectly understand; yet there was somewhat in itthat madea very strong impression upon him. And though he endeavouredbywinkingnoddingsneeringand grinningto hide the impressionfrom Jones(for we are as often ashamed of thinking right as ofthinkingwrong)it is certain he secretly approved as much of hissentimentsas he understoodand really felt a very strong impulseofcompassion for him. But we may possibly take some other opportunityofcommenting upon thisespecially if we should happen to meet Mr.Dowlingany more in the course of our history. At present we areobliged totake our leave of that gentleman a little abruptlyinimitationof Mr. Jones; who was no sooner informedby Partridgethathis horseswere readythan he deposited his reckoningwished hiscompaniona good nightmountedand set forward towards Coventrythough thenight was darkand it just then began to rain very hard.

Chapter11
Thedisasters which befel Jones on his departure for Coventry;with thesage remarks of Partridge

  Noroad can be plainer than that from the place where they nowwere toCoventry; and though neither Jonesnor Partridgenor theguidehadever travelled it beforeit would have been almostimpossibleto have missed their wayhad it not been for the tworeasonsmentioned in the conclusion of the last chapter.

 These two circumstanceshoweverhappening both unfortunately tointerveneour travellers deviated into a much less frequentedtrack; andafter riding full six milesinstead of arriving at thestatelyspires of Coventrythey found themselves still in a verydirtylanewhere they saw no symptoms of approaching the suburbs of alargecity.

 Jones now declared that they must certainly have lost their way; butthis theguide insisted upon was impossible; a word whichin commonconversationis often used to signify not only improbablebutoften whatis really very likelyandsometimeswhat hathcertainlyhappened; and hyperbolical violence like that which is sofrequentlyoffered to the words infinite and eternal; by the former ofwhich itis usual to express a distance of half a yardand by thelatteraduration of five minutes. And thus it is as usual toassert theimpossibility of losing what is already actually lost. Thiswasinfactthe case at present; fornotwithstanding all theconfidentassertions of the lad to the contraryit is certain theywere nomore in the right road to Coventrythan the fraudulentgripingcruelcanting miser is in the right road to heaven.

  Itis notperhapseasy for a readerwho hath never been inthosecircumstancesto imagine the horror with which darknessrainandwindfill persons who have lost their way in the night; andwhoconsequentlyhave not the pleasant prospect of warm firesdrycloathsand other refreshmentsto support their minds instrugglingwith the inclemencies of the weather. A very imperfect ideaof thishorror willhoweverserve sufficiently to account for theconceitswhich now filled the head of Partridgeand which we shallpresentlybe obliged to open.

 Jones grew more and more positive that they were out of theirroad; andthe boy himself at last acknowledged he believed they werenot in theright road to Coventry; though he affirmedat the sametimeitwas impossible they should have mist the way. But Partridgewas of adifferent opinion. He said"When they first set out heimaginedsome mischief or other would happen.- Did you not observesir"said he to Jones"that old woman who stood at the door justas you wastaking horse? I wish you had given her a small matterwithall myheart; for she said then you might repent it; and at thatveryinstant it began to rainand the wind hath continued rising eversince.Whatever some people may thinkI am very certain it is inthe powerof witches to raise the wind whenever they please. I haveseen ithappen very often in my time: and if ever I saw a witch in allmy lifethat old woman was certainly one. I thought so to myself atthat verytime; and if I had had any halfpence in my pocketI wouldhave givenher some; for to be sure it is always good to be charitableto thosesort of peoplefor fear what may happen; and many a personhath losthis cattle by saving a halfpenny."

 Jonesthough he was horridly vexed at the delay which thismistakewas likely to occasion in his journeycould not helpsmiling atthe superstition of his friendwhom an accident nowgreatlyconfirmed in his opinion. This was a tumble from his horse; bywhichhoweverhe received no other injury than what the dirtconferredon his cloaths.

 Partridge had no sooner recovered his legsthan he appealed tohis fallas conclusive evidence of all he had asserted; but Jonesfinding hewas unhurtanswered with a smile: "This witch of yoursPartridgeis a most ungrateful jadeand doth notI finddistinguishher friends from others in her resentment. If the old ladyhad beenangry with me for neglecting herI don't see why sheshouldtumble you from your horseafter all the respect you haveexpressedfor her."

  "Itis ill jesting" cries Partridge"with people who havepower todo thesethings; for they are often very malicious. I remember afarrierwho provoked one of themby asking her when the time she hadbargainedwith the devil for would be out; and within three monthsfrom thatvery day one of his best cows was drowned. Nor was shesatisfiedwith that; for a little time afterwards he lost a barrelofbest-drink: for the old witch pulled out the spigotand let it runall overthe cellarthe very first evening he had tapped ittomake merrywith some of his neighbours. In shortnothing ever thrivedwith himafterwards; for she worried the poor man sothat he tooktodrinking; and in a year or two his stock was seizedand he and hisfamily arenow come to the parish."

  Theguideand perhaps his horse toowere both so attentive to thisdiscoursethateither through want of careor by the malice ofthe witchthey were now both sprawling in the dirt.

 Partridge entirely imputed this fallas he had done his ownto thesamecause. He told Mr. Jones"It would certainly be his turn next!andearnestly entreated him to return backand find out the oldwomanandpacify her. We shall very soon" added he"reach theinn; forthough we have seemed to go forwardI am very certain we arein theidentical place in which we were an hour ago; and I dare swearif it wasdaylightwe might now see the inn we set out from."

 Instead of returning any answer to this sage adviceJones wasentirelyattentive to what had happened to the boywho received noother thanwhat had before befallen Partridgeand which his cloathsveryeasily boreas they had been for many years inured to thelike. Hesoon regained his side-saddleand by the hearty curses andblowswhich he bestowed on his horsequickly satisfied Mr. Jones thatno harmwas done.

Chapter12
Relatesthat Mr. Jones continued his journeycontrary to the adviceofPartridgewith what happened on that occasion

 They now discovered a light at some distanceto the greatpleasureof Jonesand to the no small terror of Partridgewho firmlybelievedhimself to be bewitchedand that this light was aJack-with-a-lanternor somewhat more mischievous.

  Buthow were these fears increasedwhenas they approachednearer tothis light (or lights as they now appeared)they heard aconfusedsound of human voices; of singinglaughingand hallowingtogetherwith a strange noise that seemed to proceed from someinstruments;but could hardly be allowed the name of musci! indeedtofavour alittle the opinion of Partridgeit might very well be calledmusicbewitched.

  Itis impossible to conceive a much greater degree of horror thanwhat nowseized on Partridge; the contagion of which had reached thepost-boywho had been very attentive to many things that the otherhaduttered. He nowthereforejoined in petitioning Jones to return;saying hefirmly believed what Partridge had just before saidthatthough thehorses seemed to go onthey had not moved a stepforwardsduring at least the last half-hour.

 Jones could not help smiling in the midst of his vexationat thefears ofthese poor fellows. "Either we advance" says he"towardsthelightsor the lights have advanced towards us; for we are nowat a verylittle distance from them; but how can either of you beafraid ofa set of people who appear only to be merry-making?"

 "Merry-makingsir!" cries Partridge; "who could bemerry-makingat thistime of nightand in such a placeand such weather? They canbe nothingbut ghosts or witchesor some evil spirits or otherthat'scertain."

 "Let them be what they will" cries Jones"I amresolved to go upto themand enquire the way to Coventry. All witchesPartridgeare notsuch ill-natured hags as that we had the misfortune to meetwithlast."

  "OLordsir" cries Partridge"there is no knowing whathumourthey willbe in; to be sure it is always best to be civil to them; butwhat if weshould meet with something worse than witcheswith evilspiritsthemselves?-- Praysirbe advised; praysirdo. If you hadread somany terrible accounts as I have of these mattersyou wouldnot be sofool-hardy.- The Lord knows whither we have got alreadyorwhither weare going; for sure such darkness was never seen uponearthandI question whether it can be darker in the other world."

 Jones put forwards as fast as he couldnotwithstanding all thesehints andcautionsand poor Partridge was obliged to follow; forthough hehardly dared to advancehe dared still less to staybehind byhimself.

  Atlength they arrived at the place whence the lights anddifferentnoises had issued. This Jones perceived to be no otherthan abarnwhere a great number of men and women were assembledanddivertingthemselves with much apparent jollity.

 Jones no sooner appeared before the great doors of the barnwhichwere openthan a masculine and very rough voice from within demandedwho wasthere?- To which Jones gently answereda friend; andimmediatelyasked the to Coventry.

  "Ifyou are a friend" cries another of the men in the barn"youhad betteralight till the storm is over" (for indeed it was nowmoreviolent than ever); "you are very welcome to put up your horse;for thereis sufficient room for him at the end of the barn."

 "You are very obliging" returned Jones; and I will acceptyouroffer fora few minuteswhilst the rain continues; and here are twomore whowill be glad of the same favour." This was accorded with moregood-willthan it was accepted: for Partridge would rather havesubmittedto the utmost inclemency of the weatherthan have trustedto theclemency of those whom he took for hobgoblins; and the poorpost-boywas now infected with the same apprehensions; but they werebothobliged to follow the example of Jones; the one because hedurst notleave his horseand the other because he feared nothingso much asbeing left by himself.

  Hadthis history been writ in the days of superstitionI shouldhave hadtoo much compassion for the reader to have left him so longinsuspensewhether Beelzebub or Satan was about actually to appearin personwith all his hellish retinue; but as these doctrines are atpresentvery unfortunateand have but fewif any believersI havenot beenmuch aware of conveying any such terrors. To say truththewholefurniture of the infernal regions hath long been appropriated bythemanagers of playhouseswho seem lately to have laid them by asrubbishcapable only of affecting the upper gallery; a place in whichfew of ourreaders ever sit.

 Howeverthough we do not suspect raising any great terror on thisoccasionwe have reason to fear some other apprehensions may herearise inour readerinto which we would not willingly betray him; Imean thatwe are going to take a voyage into fairy-landand introducea set ofbeings into our historywhich scarce any one was everchildishenough to believethough many have been foolish enough tospendtheir time in writing and reading their adventures.

  Topreventthereforeany such suspicionsso prejudicial to thecredit ofan historianwho professes to draw his materials fromnatureonlywe shall now proceed to acquaint the reader who thesepeoplewerewhose sudden appearance had struck such terrors intoPartridgehad more than half frightened the postboyand had a littlesurprizedeven Mr. Jones himself.

  Thepeople then assembled in this barn were no other than acompany ofEgyptiansoras they are vulgarly calledgypsiesandthey werenow celebrating the wedding of one of their society.

  Itis impossible to conceive a happier set of people than appearedhere to bemet together. The utmost mirthindeedshewed itself inevercountenance; nor was their ball totally void of all order anddecorum.Perhaps it had more than a country assembly is sometimesconductedwith: for these people are subject to a formal governmentand lawsof their ownand all pay obedience to one greatmagistratewhom they call their king.

 Greater plentylikewisewas nowhere to be seenthan whatflourishedin this barn. Here was indeed no nicety nor elegancenordid thekeen appetite of the guests require any. Here was good storeof baconfowlsand muttonto which every one present providedbettersauce himself than the best and dearest French cook canprepare.

 AEneas is not described under more consternation in the temple ofJuno

    Dum stupet obtutuque haeret defixus in uno

than wasour heroe at what he saw in this barn. While he was lookingeverywhereround him with astonishmenta venerable personapproachedhim with many friendly salutationsrather of too heartya kind tobe called courtly. This was no other than the king of thegypsieshimself. He was very little distinguished in dress from hissubjectsnor had he any regalia of majesty to support his dignity;and yetthere seemed (as Mr. Jones said) to be somewhat in his airwhichdenoted authorityand inspired the beholders with an idea ofawe andrespect; though all this was perhaps imaginary in Jones; andthe truthmay bethat such ideas are incident to powerand almostinseparablefrom it.

 There was somewhat in the open countenance and courteous behaviourof Joneswhichbeing accompanied with much comeliness of persongreatlyrecommended him at first to every beholder. These wereperhapsalittle heightened to the present instanceby that profoundrespectwhich he paid to the king of the gypsiesthe moment he wasacquaintedwith his dignityand which was the sweeter to his gypseianmajestyas he was not used to receive such homage from any but hisownsubjects.

  Theking ordered a table to be spread with the choicest of theirprovisionsfor his accommodation; andhaving placed himself at hisrighthandhis majesty began to discourse with our heroe in thefollowingmanner:-

  "Medoubt notsirbut you have of seen some of my peoplewhoare whatyou call de parties detache: for dey go about everywhere; butme fancyyou imagine not we be so considrable body as we be; and maybe youwill be surprize more when you hear de gypsy be as orderlyand wellgovern people as any upon face of de earth.

  "Mehave honouras me sayto be deir kingand no monarch can doboast ofmore dutiful subjectne no more affectionate. How far medeservedeir good-willme no say; but dis me can saydat me neverdesignanyting but to do dem good. Me sall no do boast of datneider:for what can me do oderwise dan consider of de good of dosepoorpeople who go about all day to give me always de best of what deyget. Deylove and honour me dareforebecause me do love and take careof dem;dat is allme know no oder reason.

 "About a tousand or two tousand year agome cannot tell to ayearor twoascan neider write nor readdere was a great what youcall- avolution among de gypsy; for dere was de lord gypsy in dosedays;and deselord did quarrel vid one anoder about de place; but de kingof degypsy did demolish dem alland made all his subject equal videach oder;and since dat time dey have agree very well; for dey notink ofbeing kingand may be it be better for dem as dey be; forme assureyou it be ver troublesome ting to be kingand always todojustice; me have often wish to be de private gypsy when me havebeenforced to punish my dear friend and relation; for dough wenever putto deathour punishments be ver severe. Dey make de gypsyashamed ofdemselves and dat be ver terrible punishment; me ave scarceever knownde gypsy so punish do harm any more."

  Theking then proceeded to express some wonder that there was nosuchpunishment as shame in other governments. Upon which Jonesassuredhim to the contrary; for that there were many crimes for whichshame wasinflicted by the English lawsand that it was indeed oneconsequenceof all punishment. "Dat be ver strange" said the king;"forme know and hears good deal of your peopledough me no liveamong dem;and me have often hear dat sham is de consequence and decause tooof many of your rewards. Are your rewards and punishmentsden desame ting?"

 While his majesty was thus discoursing with Jonesa sudden uproararose inthe barnand as it seems upon this occasion:- the courtesyof thesepeople had by degrees removed all the apprehensions ofPartridgeand he was prevailed upon not only to stuff himself withtheirfoodbut to taste some of their liquorswhich by degressentirelyexpelled all fear from his compositionand in its steadintroducedmuch more agreeable sensations.

  Ayoung female gypsymore remarkable for her wit than her beautyhaddecoyed the honest fellow asidepretending to tell his fortune.Nowwhenthey were alone together in a remote part of the barnwhether itproceeded from the strong liquorwhich is never so aptto inflameinordinate desire as after moderate fatigue; or whether thefair gypsyherself threw aside the delicacy and decency of her sexandtempted the youth Partridge with express solicitations; but theywerediscovered in a very improper manner by the husband of the gypsywhofromjealousy it seemshad kept a watchful eye over his wifeand haddogged her to the placewhere he found her in the arms of hergallant.

  Tothe great confusion of JonesPartridge was now hurried beforethe king;who heard the accusationand likewise the culprit'sdefencewhich was indeed very trifling; for the poor fellow wasconfoundedby the plain evidence which appeared against himand hadverylittle to say for himself. His majestythen turning towardsJonessaid"Siryou have hear what dey say: what punishment doyou tinkyour man deserve?"

 Jones answered"He was sorry for what had happenedand thatPartridgeshould make the husband all the amends in his power: hesaidhehad very little money about him at that time;" andputtinghis handinto his pocketoffered the fellow a guinea. To which heimmediatelyanswered. "He hoped his honour would not think of givinghim lessthan five."

 This sumafter some altercationwas reduced to two; and Joneshavingstipulated for the full forgiveness of both Partridge and thewifewasgoing to pay the money; when his majestyrestraining hishandturned to the witness and asked him"At what time he haddiscoveredthe criminals?" To which he answered"That he had beendesired bythe husband to watch the motions of his wife from her firstspeakingto the strangerand that he had never lost sight of herafterwardstill the crime had been committed." The king then asked"ifthe husband was with him all that time in his lurking-place?" Towhich heanswered in the affirmative. His Egyptian majesty thenaddressedhimself to the husband as follows: "Me be sorry to see anygypsy dathave no more honour dan to sell de honour of his wife formoney. Ifyou had de love for your wifeyou would have preventeddismatterand not endeavour to make her de whore dat you mightdiscoverher. Me do order dat you have no money given youfor youdeservepunishmentnot reward; me do order dereforedat you be deinfamousgypsyand do wear pair of horms upon your forehead for onemonthanddat your wife be called de whoreand pointed at all dattime; foryou be de infamous gypsybut she be no less de infamouswhore."

  Thegypsies immediately proceeded to execute the sentenceandleft Jonesand Partridge alone with his majesty.

 Jones greatly applauded the justice of the sentence: upon whichthe kingturning to himsaid"Me believe you be surprize: for mesupposeyou have ver bad opinion of my people: me suppose you tinkus all detieves."

  "Imust confesssir" said Jones"I have not heard sofavourablean accountof them as they seem to deserve."

  "Mevil tell you" said the king"how the difference isbetween youand us. Mypeople rob your peopleand your people rob one anoder."

 Jones afterwards proceeded very gravely to sing forth thehappinessof those subjects who live under such a magistrate.

 Indeed their happiness appears to have been so compleatthat we areaware lestsome advocate for arbitrary power should hereafter quotethe caseof those peopleas an instance of the great advantages whichattendthat government above all others.

  Andhere we will make a concessionwhich would not perhaps havebeenexpected from usthat no limited form of government is capableof risingto the same degree of perfectionor of producing the samebenefitsto societywith this. Mankind have never been so happyaswhen thegreatest part of the then known world was under thedominionof a single master; and this state of their felicitycontinuedduring the reigns of five successive princes.This wasthe trueaera of the golden ageand the only golden age which everhad anyexistenceunless in the warm imaginations of the poetsfrom theexpulsion from Eden down to this day.

  InrealityI know but of one solid objection to absolutemonarchy.The only defect in which excellent constitution seems to bethedifficulty of finding any man adequate to the office of anabsolutemonarch: for this indispensably require three qualitiesverydifficultas it appears from historyto be found in princelynatures:firsta sufficient quantity of moderation in the princeto becontented with all the power which is possible for him tohave.2ndlyEnough of wisdom to know his own happiness. And3rdlyGoodnesssufficient to support the happiness of otherswhen notonlycompatible withbut instrumental to his own.

  Nowif an absolute monarch with all these great and rarequalificationsshould be allowed capable of conferring the greatestgood onsociety; it must be surely grantedon the contrarythatabsolutepowervested in the hands of one who is deficient in themallislikely to be attended with no less a degree of evil.

  Inshortour own religion furnishes us with adequate ideas of theblessingas well as cursewhich may attend absolute power. Thepicturesof heaven and of hell will place a very lively image ofbothbefore our eyes; for though the prince of the latter can haveno powerbut what he originally derives from the omnipotent Sovereignin theformeryet it plainly appears from Scripturethat absolutepower inhis infernal dominions is granted to their diabolicalruler.This is indeed the only absolute power which can by Scripturebe derivedfrom heaven. Ifthereforethe several tyrannies uponearth canprove any title to a Divine authorityit must be derivedfrom thisoriginal grant to the prince of darkness; and thesesubordinatedeputations must consequently come immediately from himwhosestamp they so expressly bear.

  Toconcludeas the examples of all ages show us that mankind ingeneraldesire power only to do harmandwhen they obtain ituse itfor noother purpose; it is not consonant with even the least degreeofprudence to hazard an alterationwhere our hopes are poorly keptincountenance by only two or three exceptions out of a thousandinstancesto alarm our fears. In this case it will be much wiser tosubmit toa few inconveniences arising from the dispassionate deafnessof lawsthan to remedy them by applying to the passionate open earsof atyrant.

  Norcan the example of the gypsiesthough possibly they may havelong beenhappy under this form of governmentbe here urged; since wemustremember the very material respect in which they differ fromall otherpeopleand to which perhaps this their happiness isentirelyowingnamelythat they have no false honours among themand thatthey look on shame as the most grievous punishment in theworld.

Chapter13
A dialoguebetween Jones and Partridge

  Thehonest lovers of liberty willwe doubt notpardon that longdigressioninto which we were led at the close of the last chaptertopreventour history from being applied to the use of the mostperniciousdoctrine which priestcraft had ever the wickedness or theimpudenceto preach.

  Wewill now proceed with Mr. Joneswhowhen the storm was overtook leaveof his Egyptian majestyafter many thanks for hiscourteousbehaviour and kind entertainmentand set out forCoventry;to which place (for it was still dark) a gypsy was orderedto conducthim.

 Jones havingby reason of his deviationtravelled eleven milesinstead ofsixand most of those through very execrable roadswhere noexpedition could have been made in quest of a midwifedidnot arriveat Coventry till near twelve. Nor could he possibly getagain intothe saddle till past two; for post-horses were now not easyto get;nor were the hostler or post-boy in half so great a hurry ashimselfbut chose rather to imitate the tranquil disposition ofPartridge;whobeing denied the nourishment of sleeptook allopportunitiesto supply its place with every other kind ofnourishmentand was never better pleased than when he arrived at aninnnorever more dissatisfied than when he was again forced to leaveit.

 Jones now travelled post; we will follow himthereforeaccordingto ourcustomand to the rules of Longinusin the same manner.FromCoventry he arrived at Daventryfrom Daventry at Stratfordand fromStratford at Dunstablewhither he came the next day a littleafternoonand within a few hours after Sophia had left it; andthough hewas obliged to stay here longer than he wishedwhile asmithwith great deliberationshoed the posthorse he was to ridehedoubtednot but to overtake his Sophia before she should set outfrom St.Albans; at which place he concludedand very reasonablythat hislordship would stop and dine.

  Andhad he been right in this conjecturehe most probably wouldhaveovertaken his angel at the aforesaid place; but unluckily my lordhadappointed a dinner to be prepared for him at his own house inLondonandin order to enable him to reach that place in propertimehehad ordered a relay of horses to meet him at St. Albans. WhenJonestherefore arrived therehe was informed that thecoach-and-sixhad set out two hours before.

  Iffresh post-horses had been now readyas they were notit seemedsoapparently impossible to overtake the coach before it reachedLondonthat Partridge thought he had now a proper opportunity toremind hisfriend of a matter which he seemed entirely to haveforgotten;what this was the reader will guesswhen we inform himthat Joneshad eat nothing more than one poached egg since he had leftthealehouse where he had first met the guide returning from Sophia;for withthe gypsies he had feasted only his understanding.

  Thelandlord so entirely agreed with the opinion of Mr. Partridgethat he nosooner heard the latter desire his friend to stay and dinethan hevery readily put in his wordand retracting his promisebeforegiven of furnishing the horses immediatelyhe assured Mr.Jones hewould lose no time in bespeaking a dinnerwhichhe saidcould begot ready sooner than it was possible to get the horses upfromgrassand to prepare them for their journey by a feed of corn.

 Jones was at length prevailed onchiefly by the latter argumentof thelandlord; and now a joint of mutton was put down to the fire.While thiswas preparingPartridgebeing admitted into the sameapartmentwith his friend or masterbegan to harangue in thefollowingmanner.

 "Certainlysirif ever man deserved a young ladyyou deserveyoungMadam Western; for what a vast quantity of love must a man haveto be ableto live upon it without any other foodas you do? I ampositive Ihave eat thirty times as much within these last twenty-fourhours asyour honourand yet I am almost famished; for nothingmakes aman so hungry as travellingespecially in this cold rawweather.And yet I can't tell how it isbut your honour isseeminglyin perfect good healthand you never looked better norfresher inyour life. It must be certainly love that you live upon."

 "And a very rich diet tooPartridge" answered Jones. "Butdidnotfortune send me an excellent dainty yesterday? Dost thou imagine Icannotlive more than twenty-four hours on this dear pocket-book?"

 "Undoubtedly" cries Partridge"there is enough inthat pocket-booktopurchase many a good meal. Fortune sent it to your honour veryopportunelyfor present useas your honour's money must be almost outby thistime."

 "What do you mean?" answered Jones; "I hope you don'timagine that Ishould bedishonest enougheven if it belonged to any other personbesidesMiss Western-"

 "Dishonest!" replied Partridge"heaven forbid Ishould wrong yourhonour somuch! but where's the dishonesty in borrowing a little forpresentspendingsince you will be so well able to pay the ladyhereafter?NoindeedI would have your honour pay it againassoon as itis convenientby all means; but where can be the harm inmaking useof it now you want it? Indeedif it belonged to a poorbodyitwould be another thing; but so great a ladyto be surecan neverwant itespecially now as she is along with a lordwhoitcan't bedoubtedwill let her have whatever she hath need of.Besidesif she should want a littleshe can't want the wholethereforeI would give her a little; but I would be hanged before Imentionedthe having found it at firstand before I got some money ofmy own;for LondonI have heardis the very worst of places to be inwithoutmoney. Indeedif I had not known to whom it belongedI mighthavethought it was the devil's moneyand have been afraid to use it;but as youknow otherwiseand came honestly by itit would be anaffront tofortune to part with it all againat the very time whenyou wantit most; you can hardly expect she should ever do you suchanothergood turn; for fortuna nunquam perpetuo est bona.You will doas youpleasenotwithstanding all I say; but for my partI wouldbe hangedbefore I mentioned a word of the matter."

  "Bywhat I can seePartridge" cries Jones"hanging is amatternon longealienum a Scaevolae studiis."

"You should say alienus"saysPartridge.

"I remember the passage; it is an example under communisalienusimmunisvariis casibus serviunt."

"It you do remember it"criesJones"I find you don't understand it; but I tell theefriendin plainEnglishthat he who finds another's propertyand wilfullydetains itfrom the known ownerdeservesin foro conscientiaeto behanged noless than if he had stolen it. And as for this veryidenticalbillwhich is the property of my angeland was once in herdearpossessionI will not deliver it into any hands but her ownupon anyconsideration whatevernothough I was as hungry as thouartandhad no other means to satisfy my craving appetite; this Ihope to dobefore I sleep; but if it should happen otherwiseI chargetheeifthou would'st not incur my displeasure for evernot to shockme anymore by the bare mention of such detestable baseness."

  "Ishould not have mentioned it now" cries Partridge"if ithadappearedso to me; for I'm sure I scorn any wickedness as much asanother;but perhaps you know better; and yet I might have imaginedthat Ishould not have lived so many yearsand have taught schoolso longwithout being able to distinguish between fas et nefas: butit seemswe are all to live and learn. I remember my old schoolmasterwho was aprodigious great scholarused often to sayPolly matetecry townis my daskalon. The English of whichhe told uswasThat achild maysometimes teach his grandmother to suck eggs. I have livedto a finepurposetrulyif I am to be taught my grammar at this timeof day.Perhapsyoung gentlemanyou may change your opinionifyou liveto my years: for I remember I thought myself as wise when Iwas astripling of one or two and twenty as I am now. I am sure Ialwaystaught alienusand my master read it so before me."

 There were not many instances in which Partridge could provokeJonesnorwere there many in which Partridge himself could havebeenhurried out of his respect. Unluckilyhoweverthey had both hiton one ofthese. We have already seen Partridge could not bear to havehislearning attackednor could Jones bear some passage or other intheforegoing speech. And nowlooking upon his companion with acontemptuousand disdainful air (a thing not usual with him)hecried"PartridgeI see thou art a conceited old fooland I wishthou arenot likewise an old rogue. Indeedif I was as well convincedof thelatter as I am of the formerthou should'st travel nofarther inmy company."

  Thesage pedagogue was contented with the vent which he hadalreadygiven to his indignation; andas the vulgar phrase isimmediatelydrew in his horns. He saidhe was sorry he had utteredanythingwhich might give offencefor that he had never intendedit; butNemo omnibus horis sapit.

  AsJones had the vices of a warm dispositionhe was entirely freefrom thoseof a cold one; and if his friends must have confest histemper tohave been a little too easily ruffledhis enemies must atthe sametime have confestthat it as soon subsided; nor did it atallresemble the seawhose swelling is more violent and dangerousafter astorm is overthan while the storm itself subsists. Heinstantlyaccepted the submission of Partridgeshook him by the handandwiththe most benign aspect imaginablesaid twenty kindthingsand at the same time very severely condemned himselfthoughnot halfso severely as he will most probably be condemned by manyof ourgood readers.

 Partridge was now highly comfortedas his fears of havingoffendedwere at once abolishedand his pride completely satisfied byJoneshaving owned himself in the wrongwhich submission he instantlyapplied towhat had principally nettled himand repeated in amutteringvoice"To be suresiryour knowledge may be superior tomine insome things; but as to the grammarI think I may challengeany manliving. I thinkat leastI have that at my finger's end."

  Ifanything could add to the satisfaction which the poor man nowenjoyedhe received this addition by the arrival of an excellentshoulderof muttonthat at this instant came smoaking to the table.On whichhaving both plentifully feastedthey again mounted theirhorsesand set forward for London.

Chapter14
Whathappened to Mr. Jones in his journey from St. Albans

 They were got about two miles beyond Barnetand it was now the duskof theeveningwhen a genteel-looking manbut upon a very shabbyhorserode up to Jonesand asked him whether he was going to London;to whichJones answered in the affirmative. The gentleman replied"Ishould be obliged to yousirif you will accept of my company;for it isvery lateand I am a stranger to the road." Jones readilycompliedwith the request; and on they travelled togetherholdingthat sortof discourse which is usual on such occasions.

  Ofthisindeedrobbery was the principal topic: upon which subjectthestranger expressed great apprehensions; but Jones declared hehad verylittle to loseand consequently as little to fear. HerePartridgecould not forbear putting in his word. "Your honour" saidhe"maythink it a littlebut I am sureif I had a hundred-poundbank-notein my pocketas you haveI should be very sorry to loseit; butfor my partI never was less afraid in my life; for we arefour ofusand if we all stand by one anotherthe best man inEnglandcan't rob us. Suppose he should have a pistolhe can kill butone of usand a man can die but once.- That's my comforta man candie butonce."

 Besides the reliance on superior numbersa kind of valour whichhathraised a certain nation among the moderns to a high pitch ofglorythere was another reason for the extraordinary courage whichPartridgenow discovered; for he had at present as much of thatquality aswas in the power of liquor to bestow.

  Ourcompany were now arrived within a mile of Highgatewhen thestrangerturned short upon Jonesand pulling out a pistoldemandedthatlittle bank-note which Partridge had mentioned.

 Jones was at first somewhat shocked at this unexpected demand;howeverhe presently recollected himselfand told the highwaymanall themoney he had in his pocket was entirely at his service; and sosayinghepulled out upwards of three guineasand offered to deliverit; butthe other answered with an oathThat would not do. Jonesansweredcoollyhe was very sorry for itand returned the money intohispocket.

  Thehighwayman then threatenedif he did not deliver thebank-notethat momenthe must shoot him; holding his pistol at thesame timevery near to his breast. Jones instantly caught hold ofthefellow's handwhich trembled so that he could scarce hold thepistol initand turned the muzzle from him. A struggle thenensuedinwhich the former wrested the pistol from the hand of hisantagonistand both came from their horses on the ground togetherthehighwayman upon his backand the victorious Jones upon him.

  Thepoor fellow now began to implore mercy of the conqueror: fortosay thetruthhe was in strength by no means a match for Jones."Indeedsir" says he"I could have had no intention to shoot you;for youwill find the pistol was not loaded. This is the first robberyI everattemptedand I have been driven by distress to this."

  Atthis instantat about a hundred and fifty yards' distancelayanotherperson on the groundroaring for mercy in a much louder voicethan thehighwayman. This was no other than Partridge himselfwhoendeavouringto make his escape from the engagementhad been thrownfrom hishorseand lay flat on his facenot daring to look upandexpectingevery minute to be shot.

  Inthis posture he laytill the guidewho was no otherwiseconcernedthan for his horseshaving secured the stumbling beastcame up tohimand told him his master had got the better of thehighwayman.

 Partridge leapt up at this newsand ran back to the place whereJonesstood with his sword drawn in his hand to guard the poor fellow;whichPartridge no sooner sawthan he cried out"Kill the villainsirrunhim through the bodykill him this instant!"

 Luckilyhoweverfor the poor wretchhe had fallen into moremercifulhands; for Jones having examined the pistoland found itto bereally unloadedbegan to believe all the man had told himbeforePartridge came up: namelythat he was a novice in the tradeand thathe had been driven to it by the distress he mentionedthegreatestindeed imaginablethat of five hungry childrenand a wifelying inof the sixthin the utmost want and misery. The truth of allwhich thehighwayman most vehemently assertedand offered to convinceMr. Jonesof itif he would take the trouble to go to his housewhich wasnot above two miles off; saying"That he desired no favourbut uponcondition of proving all he had alledged."

 Jones at first pretended that he would take the fellow at his wordand gowith himdeclaring that his fate should depend entirely on thetruth ofhis story. Upon this the poor fellow immediately expressed somuchalacritythat Jones was perfectly satisfied with his veracityand begannow to entertain sentiments of compassion for him. Hereturnedthe fellow his empty pistoladvised him to think of honestermeans ofrelieving his distressand gave him a couple of guineasfor theimmediate support of his wife and his family; adding"hewished hehad more for his sakefor the hundred pound that had beenmentionedwas not his own."

  Ourreaders will probably be divided in their opinions concerningthisaction; some may applaud it perhaps as an act of extraordinaryhumanitywhile those of a more saturnine temper will consider it as awant ofregard to that justice which every man owes his country.Partridgecertainly saw it in that light; for he testified muchdissatisfactionon the occasionquoted an old proverband saidheshould notwonder if the rogue attacked them again before they reachedLondon.

  Thehighwayman was full of expressions of thankfulness andgratitude.He actually dropt tearsor pretended so to do. He vowed hewouldimmediately return homeand would never afterwards commitsuch atransgression: whether he kept his word or noperhaps mayappearhereafter.

  Ourtravellers having remounted their horsesarrived in townwithoutencountering any new mishap. On the road much pleasantdiscoursepassed between Jones and Partridgeon the subject of theirlastadventure: in which Jones exprest a great compassion for thosehighwaymenwho areby unavoidable distressdrivenas it weretosuchillegal courses as generally bring them to a shameful death: "Imean"said he"those only whose highest guilt extends no fartherthan torobberyand who are never guilty of cruelty nor insult to anypersonwhich is a circumstance thatI must sayto the honour of ourcountrydistinguishes the robbers of England from those of allothernations; for murder isamongst thosealmost inseparablyincidentto robbery."

  "Nodoubt" answered Partridge"it is better to take awayone'smoney thanone's life; and yet it is very hard upon honest menthatthey can'ttravel about their business without being in danger ofthesevillains. And to be sure it would be better that all rogues werehanged outof the waythan that one honest man should suffer. Formy ownpartindeedI should not care to have the blood of any ofthem on myhands; but it is very proper for the law to hang themall. Whatright hath any man to take sixpence from meunless I giveit him? Isthere any honesty in such a man?"

 "Nosurely" cries Jones"no more than there is inhim who takesthe horsesout of another man's stableor who applies to his ownuse themoney which he findswhen he knows the right owner."

 These hints stopt the mouth of Partridge; nor did he open it againtillJoneshaving thrown some sarcastical jokes on his cowardicehe offeredto excuse himself on the inequality of firearmssaying"Athousandnaked men are nothing to one pistol; for though it is true itwill killbut one at a single dischargeyet who can tell but that onemay behimself?"

BOOK XIIICONTAININGTHE SPACE OF TWELVE DAYS

Chapter1
Aninvocation

 Comebright love of fameinspire my glowing breast: not thee Icallwhoover swelling tides of blood and tearsdost bear the heroeon toglorywhile sighs of millions waft his spreading sails; buttheefairgentle maidwhom Mnesishappy nympthfirst on the banksof Hebrusdid produce. Theewhom Maeonia educatedwhom Mantuacharmedand whoon that fair hill which overlooks the proudmetropolisof Britainsat'stwith thy Miltonsweetly tuning theheroiclyre; fill my ravished fancy with the hopes of charming agesyet tocome. Foretel me that some tender maidwhose grandmother isyetunbornhereafterwhenunder the fictitious name of Sophiashe readsthe real worth which once existed in my Charlotteshallfrom hersympathetic breast send forth the heaving sigh. Do thou teachme notonly to foreseebut to enjoynayeven to feed on futurepraise.Comfort me by a solemn assurancethat when the little parlourin which Isit at this instant shall be reduced to a worse furnishedboxIshall be read with honour by those who never knew nor saw meand whom Ishall neither know nor see.

  Andthoumuch plumper damewhom no airy forms nor phantoms ofimaginationcloathe; whom the well-seasoned beefand pudding richlystainedwith plumsdelight: thee I call: of whom in a treckschuytein someDutch canalthe fat Jufvrouw Geltimpregnated by a jollymerchantof Amsterdamwas delivered: in Grub-street school didst thousuck inthe clements of thy erudition. Here hast thouin thymatureragetaught poetry to tickle not the fancybut the pride ofthepatron. Comedy from thee learns a grave and solemn air; whiletragedystorms aloudand rends th' affrighted theatres with itsthunders.To soothe thy wearied limbs in slumberAlderman Historytells histedious tale; andagainto awaken theeMonsieur Romanceperformshis surprizing tricks of dexterity. Nor less thy well-fedbooksellerobeys thy influence. By thy advice the heavyunreadfoliolumpwhich long had dozed on the dusty shelfpiecemealed intonumbersruns nimbly through the nation. Instructed by theesomebookslike quacksimpose on the world by promising wonders; whileothersturn beausand trust all their merits to a gilded outside.Comethoujolly substancewith thy shining facekeep back thyinspirationbut hold forth thy tempting rewards; thy shiningchinkingheap; thy quickly convertible bank-billbig with unseenriches;thy often-varying stock; the warmthe comfortable house; andlastlyafair portion of that bounteous motherwhose flowing breastsyieldredundant sustenance for all her numerous offspringdid notsome toogreedily and wantonly drive their brethren from the teat.Come thouand if I am too tasteless of thy valuable treasureswarmmy heartwith the transporting thought of conveying them to others.Tell methat through thy bountythe pratling babeswhose innocentplay hathoften been interrupted by my laboursmay one time beamplyrewarded for them.

  Andnow this ill-yoked pairthis lean shadow and this fatsubstancehave prompted me to writewhose assistance shall Iinvoke todirect my pen?

 FirstGenius; thou gift of Heaven; without whose aid in vain westruggleagainst the stream of nature. Thou who dost sow thegenerousseeds which art nourishesand brings to perfection. Dothoukindly take me by the handand lead me through all the mazesthewinding labyrinths of nature. Initiate me into all those mysterieswhichprofane eyes never beheld. Teach mewhich to thee is nodifficulttaskto know mankind better than they know themselves.Removethat mist which dims the intellects of mortalsand causes themto adoremen for their artor to detest them for their cunningindeceivingotherswhen they arein realitythe objects only ofridiculefor deceiving themselves. Strip off the thin disguise ofwisdomfrom self-conceitof plenty from avariceand of glory fromambition.Comethou that hast inspired thy AristophanesthyLucianthy Cervantesthy Rabelaisthy Molierethy Shakespearthy Swiftthy Marivauxfill my pages with humour; till mankind learnthegood-nature to laugh only at the follies of othersand thehumilityto grieve at their own.

  Andthoualmost the constant attendant on true geniusHumanitybring allthy tender sensations. If thou hast already disposed of themallbetween thy Allen and thy Lyttletonsteal them a little whilefrom theirbosoms. Not without these the tender scene is painted. Fromthesealone proceed the nobledisinterested friendshipthe meltinglovethegenerous sentimentthe ardent gratitudethe softcompassionthe candid opinion; and all those strong energies ofa goodmindwhich fill the moistened eyes with tearsthe glowingcheekswith bloodand swell the heart with tides of griefjoyandbenevolence.

  AndthouO Learning! (for without thy assistance nothing purenothingcorrectcan genius produce) do thou guide my pen. Thee in thyfavouritefieldswhere the limpidgently-rolling Thames washes thyEtonianbanksin early youth I have worshipped. To theeat thybirchenaltarwith true Spartan devotionI have sacrificed my blood.Come thenand from thy vastluxuriant storesin long antiquitypiled uppour forth the rich profusion. Open thy Maeonian and thyMantuancofferswith whatever else includes thy philosophicthypoeticand thy historical treasureswhether with Greek or Romancharactersthou hast chosen to inscribe the ponderous chests: giveme a whilethat key to all thy treasureswhich to thy Warburtonthou hastentrusted.

 Lastlycome Experiencelong conversant with the wisethe goodthelearnedand the polite. Nor with them onlybut with every kindofcharacterfrom the minister at his leveeto the bailiff in hisspunging-house;from the dutchess at her drumto the landladybehind herbar. From thee only can the manners of mankind be known; towhich therecluse pedanthowever great his parts or extensive hislearningmay behath ever been a stranger.

 Come all theseand moreif possible; for arduous is the task Ihaveundertaken; andwithout all your assistancewillI findbetoo heavyfor me to support. But if you all smile on my laboursIhope stillto bring them to a happy conclusion.

Chapter2
What befelMr. Jones on his arrival in London

  Thelearned Dr. Misaubin used to saythat the proper direction tohim was ToDr. Misaubinin the World; intimating that there werefew peoplein it to whom his great reputation was not known. Andperhapsupon a very nice examination into the matterwe shall findthat thiscircumstance bears no inconsiderable part among the manyblessingsof grandeur.

  Thegreat happiness of being known to posteritywith the hopes ofwhich weso delighted ourselves in the preceding chapteris theportion offew. To have the several elements which compose ournamesasSydenham expresses itrepeated a thousand years henceis agiftbeyond the power of title and wealth; and is scarce to bepurchasedunless by the sword and the pen. But to avoid thescandalousimputationwhile we yet liveof being one whom nobodyknows (ascandalby the byeas old as the days of Homer)willalways bethe envied portion of thosewho have a legal title eitherto honouror estate.

 From that figurethereforewhich the Irish peerwho broughtSophia totownhath already made in this historythe reader willconcludedoubtlessit must have been an easy matter to havediscoveredhis house in London without knowing the particular streetor squarewhich he inhabitedsince he must have been one whomeverybodyknows. To say the truthso it would have been to any ofthosetradesmen who are accustomed to attend the regions of the great;for thedoors of the great are generally no less easy to find thanit isdifficult to get entrance into them. But Jonesas well atPartridgewas an entire stranger in London; and as he happened toarrivefirst in a quarter of the townthe inhabitants of which haveverylittle intercourse with the householders of Hanover orGrosvenor-square(for he entered through Gray's-inn-lane)so herambledabout some timebefore he could even find his way to thosehappymansions where fortune segregates from the vulgar thosemagnanimousheroesthe descendants of antient BritonsSaxonsorDaneswhose ancestorsbeing born in better daysby sundry kindsof merithave entailed riches and honour on their posterity.

 Jonesbeing at length arrived at those terrestrial Elysianfieldswould now soon have discovered his lordship's mansion; but thepeerunluckily quitted his former house when he went for Ireland;and as hewas just entered into a new onethe fame of his equipagehad notyet sufficiently blazed in the neighbourhood; so thatafter asuccesslessinquiry till the clock had struck elevenJones at lastyielded tothe advice of Partridgeand retreated to the Bull and GateinHolbornthat being the inn where he had first alightedandwhere heretired to enjoy that kind of repose which usually attendspersons inhis circumstances.

 Early in the morning he again set forth in pursuit of Sophia; andmany aweary step he took to no better purpose than before. At lastwhether itwas that Fortune relentedor whether it was no longer inher powerto disappoint himhe came into the very street which washonouredby his lordship's residence; andbeing directed to thehousehegave one gentle rap at the door.

  Theporterwhofrom the modesty of the knockhad conceived nohigh ideaof the person approachingconceived but little betterfrom theappearance of Mr. Joneswho was drest in a suit offustianand had by his side the weapon formerly purchased of theserjeant;of whichthough the blade might be composed ofwell-temperedsteelthe handle was composed only of brassand thatnone ofthe brightest. When Jonesthereforeenquired after the younglady whohad come to town with his lordshipthis fellow answeredsurlily"That there were no ladies there." Jones then desired tosee themaster of the house; but was informed that his lordshipwould seenobody that morning. And upon growing more pressing theportersaid"he had positive orders to let no person in; but if youthinkproper" said he"to leave your nameI will acquaint hislordship;and if you call another time you shall know when he will seeyou."

 Jones now declared"that he had very particular business withtheyoungladyand could not depart without seeing her." Upon which theporterwith no very agreeable voice or aspectaffirmed"thatthere wasno young lady in that houseand consequently none couldhe see;"adding"sure you are the strangest man I ever met withfor youwill not take an answer."

  Ihave often thought thatby the particular description ofCerberusthe porter of hellin the 6th AEneidVirgil might possiblyintend tosatirize the porters of the great men in his time; thepictureat leastresembles those who have the honour to attend atthe doorsof our great men. The porter in his lodge answers exactly toCerberusin his denandlike himmust be appeased by a sop beforeaccess canbe gained to his master. Perhaps Jones might have seenhim inthat lightand have recollected the passage where the Sibylin orderto procure an entrance for Eneaspresents the keeper oftheStygian avenue with such a sop. Jonesin like mannernow beganto offer abribe to the human Cerberuswhich a footman overhearinginstantlyadvancedand declared"if Mr. Jones would give him the sumproposedhe would conduct him to the lady." Jones instantly agreedand wasforthwith conducted to the lodging of Mrs. Fitzpatrickby theveryfellow who had attended the ladies thither the day before.

 Nothing more aggravates ill success than the near approach togood. Thegamesterwho loses his party at piquet by a single pointlamentshis bad luck ten times as much as he who never came within aprospectof the game. So in a lotterythe proprietors of the nextnumbers tothat which wins the great prizeare apt to accountthemselvesmuch more unfortunate than their fellow-suffers. Inshortthese kind of hairbreadth missings of happiness look like theinsults ofFortunewho may be considered as thus playing trickswith usand wantonly diverting herself at our expense.

 Joneswho more than once already had experienced this frolicsomedispositionof the heathen goddesswas now again doomed to betantalizedin the like manner; for he arrived at the door of Mrs.Fitzpatrickabout ten minutes after the departure of Sophia. He nowaddressedhimself to the waiting-woman belonging to Mrs.Fitzpatrickwho told him the disagreeable news that the lady wasgonebutcould not tell him whither; and the same answer heafterwardsreceived from Mrs. Fitzpatrick herself. For as that ladymade nodoubt but that Mr. Jones was a person detached from heruncleWesternin pursuit of his daughterso she was too generousto betrayher.

 Though Jones had never seen Mrs. Fitzpatrickyet he had heardthat acousin of Sophia was married to a gentleman of that name. Thishoweverin the present tumult of his mindnever once recurred to hismemory;but when the footmanwho had conducted him from hislordship'sacquainted him with the great intimacy between the ladiesand withtheir calling each other cousinhe then recollected thestory ofthe marriage which he had formerly heard; and as he waspresentlyconvinced that this was the same womanhe became moresurprizedat the answer which he had receivedand very earnestlydesiredleave to wait on the lady herself; but she positivelyrefusedhim that honour.

 Joneswhothough he had never seen a courtwas better bred thanmost whofrequent itwas incapable of any rude or abrupt behaviour toa lady.When he had receivedthereforea peremptory denialheretiredfor the presentsaying to the waiting-woman"That if thiswas animproper hour to wait on her ladyhe would return in theafternoon;and that he then hoped to have the honour of seeing her."Thecivility with which he uttered thisadded to the great comelinessof hispersonmade an impression on the waiting-womanand shecould nothelp answering; "Perhapssiryou may;" andindeedsheafterwardssaid everything to her mistresswhich she thought mostlikely toprevail on her to admit a visit from the handsome younggentleman;for so she called him.

 Jones very shrewdly suspected that Sophia herself was now with hercousinand was denied to him; which he imputed to her resentment ofwhat hadhappened at Upton. Havingthereforedispatched Partridge toprocurehim lodgingshe remained all day in the streetwatchingthe doorwhere he thought his angel lay concealed; but no person didhe seeissue forthexcept a servant of the houseand in theevening hereturned to pay his visit to Mrs. Fitzpatrickwhich thatgood ladyat last condescended to admit.

 There is a certain air of natural gentilitywhich it is neitherin thepower of dress to givenor to conceal. Mr. Jonesas hath beenbeforehintedwas possessed of this in a very eminent degree. He metthereforewith a reception from the ladysomewhat different fromwhat hisapparel seemed to demand; and after he had paid her hisproperrespectswas desired to sit down.

  Thereader will notI believebe desirous of knowing all theparticularsof this conversationwhich ended very little to thesatisfactionof poor Jones. For though Mrs. Fitzpatrick soondiscoveredthe lover (as all women have the eyes of hawks in thosematters)yet she still thought it was such a loveras a generousfriend ofthe lady should not betray her to. In shortshe suspectedthis wasthe very Mr. Blifilfrom whom Sophia had flown; and alltheanswers which she artfully drew from Jonesconcerning Mr.Allworthy'sfamilyconfirmed her in this opinion. She thereforestrictlydenied any knowledge concerning the place whither Sophiawas gone;nor could Jones obtain more than a permission to wait on heragain thenext evening.

 When Jones was departedMrs. Fitzpatrick communicated her suspicionconcerningMr. Blifil to her maid; who answered"Suremadamhe istoo prettya manin my opinionfor any woman in the world to runaway from.I had rather fancy it is Mr. Jones."

"Mr. Jones!"saidthe lady"what Jones?" For Sophia had not given the least hint ofanysuchperson in all their conversation; but Mrs. Honour had been muchmorecommunicativeand had acquainted her sister Abigail with thewholehistory of Joneswhich this now again related to her mistress.

 Mrs. Fitzpatrick no sooner received this informationthan sheimmediatelyagreed with the opinion of her maid; andwhat is veryunaccountablesaw charms in the gallanthappy loverwhich she hadoverlookedin the slighted squire. "Betty" says she"you arecertainlyin the right: he is a very pretty fellowand I don't wonderthat mycousin's maid should tell you so many women are fond of him. Iam sorrynow I did not inform him where my cousin was; and yetifhe be soterrible a rake as you tell meit is a pity she shouldever seehim any more; for what but her ruin can happen frommarrying arake and a beggar against her father's consent? Iprotestif he be such a man as the wench described him to youitis but anoffice of charity to keep her from him; and I am sure itwould beunpardonable in me to do otherwisewho have tasted sobitterlyof the misfortunes attending such marriages."

 Here she was interrupted by the arrival of a visitorwhich was noother thanhis lordship; and as nothing passed at this visit eithernew orextraordinaryor any ways material to this historywe shallhere putan end to this chapter.

Chapter3
A projectof Mrs. Fitzpatrickand her visit to Lady Bellaston

 When Mrs. Fitzpatrick retired to resther thoughts were entirelytaken upby her cousin Sophia and Mr. Jones. She wasindeeda littleoffendedwith the formerfor the disingenuity which she nowdiscovered.In which meditation she had not long exercised herimaginationbefore the following conceit suggested itself; that couldshepossibly become the means of preserving Sophia from this manand ofrestoring her to her fathershe shouldin all humanprobabilityby so great a service to the familyreconcile to herselfboth heruncle and her aunt Western.

  Asthis was one of her most favourite wishesso the hope of successseemed soreasonablethat nothing remained but to consider ofpropermethods to accomplish her scheme. To attempt to reason the casewithSophia did not appear to her one of those methods: for as Bettyhadreported from Mrs. Honourthat Sophia had a violent inclinationto Jonesshe conceived that to dissuade her from the match was anendeavourof the same kindas it would be very heartily and earnestlyto entreata moth not to fly into a candle.

  Ifthe reader will please to rememberthat the acquaintance whichSophia hadwith Lady Bellaston was contracted at the house of Mrs.Westernand must have grown at the very time when Mrs. Fitzpatricklived withthis latter ladyhe will want no informationthat Mrs.Fitzpatrickmust have been acquainted with her likewise. They werebesidesboth equally her distant relations.

 After much considerationthereforeshe resolved to go early in themorning tothat ladyand endeavour to see herunknown to Sophiaandtoacquaint her with the whole affair. For she did not in the leastdoubtbutthat the prudent ladywho had often ridiculed romanticloveandindiscreet marriagesin her conversationwould veryreadilyconcur in her sentiments concerning this matchand would lendher utmostassistance to prevent it.

 This resolution she accordingly executed; and the next morningbefore thesunshe huddled on her cloathsand at a veryunfashionableunseasonableunvisitable hourwent to Lady Bellastonto whomshe got accesswithout the least knowledge or suspicion ofSophiawhothough not asleeplay at that time awake in her bedwithHonour snoring by her side.

 Mrs. Fitzpatrick made many apologies for an early abrupt visitatan hourwhenshe said"she should not have thought of disturbing herladyshipbut upon business of the utmost consequence." She thenopened thewhole affairtold all she had heard from Betty; and didnot forgetthe visit which Jones had paid to herself the precedingevening.

 Lady Bellaston answered with a smile"Then you have seen thisterriblemanmadam; prayis he so very fine a figure as he isrepresented?for Etoff entertained me last night almost two hours withhim. ThewenchI believeis in love with him by reputation." Herethe readerwill be apt to wonder; but the truth isthat Mrs. Etoffwho hadthe honour to pin and unpin the Lady Bellastonhad receivedcompleatinformation concerning the said Mr. Jonesand had faithfullyconveyedthe same to her lady last night (or rather that morning)while shewas undressing; on which accounts she had been detained inher officeabove the space of an hour and a half.

  Thelady indeedthough generally well enough pleased with thenarrativesof Mrs. Etoff at those seasonsgave an extraordinaryattentionto her account of Jones; for Honour had described him as averyhandsome fellowand Mrs. Etoffin her hurryadded so much tothe beautyof his person to her reportthat Lady Bellaston began toconceivehim to be a kind of miracle in nature.

  Thecuriosity which her woman had inspired was now greatly increasedby Mrs.Fitzpatrickwho spoke as much in favour of the person ofJones asshe had before spoken in dispraise of his birthcharacterandfortune.

 When Lady Bellaston had heard the wholeshe answered gravely"Indeedmadamthis is a matter of great consequence. Nothing cancertainlybe more commendable than the part you act; and I shall bevery gladto have my share in the preservation of a young lady of somuchmeritand for whom I have so much esteem."

 "Doth not your ladyship think" says Mrs. Fitzpatrickeagerly"thatit wouldbe the best way to write immediately to my uncleandacquainthim where my cousin is?"

  Thelady pondered a little upon thisand thus answered

"WhynomadamIthink not. Di Western hath described her brother to me tobe such abrutethat I cannot consent to put any woman under hispower whohath escaped from it. I have heard he behaved like a monsterto his ownwifefor he is one of those wretches who think they have aright totyrannise over usand from such I shall ever esteem it thecause ofmy sex to rescue any woman who is so unfortunate to beundertheir power.- The businessdear cousinwill be only to keepMissWestern from seeing this young fellowtill the good companywhich shewill have an opportunity of meeting heregive her apropererturn."

  "Ifhe should find out hermadam" answered the other"yourladyshipmay be assured he will leave nothing unattempted to come ather."

 "Butmadam" replied the lady"it is impossible heshould comehere-though indeed it is possible he may get some intelligence whereshe isand then may lurk about the house- I wish therefore I knewhisperson. Is there no waymadamby which I could have a sight ofhim? forotherwiseyou knowcousinshe may contrive to see himherewithout my knowledge."

 Mrs. Fitzpatrick answered"That he had threatened her withanothervisit that afternoonand thatif her ladyship pleased todo her thehonour of calling upon her thenshe would hardly fail ofseeing himbetween six and seven: and if he came earlier she wouldbysome meansor otherdetain him till her ladyship's arrival."- LadyBellastonreplied"She would come the moment she could get fromdinnerwhich she supposed would be by seven at farthest; for thatit wasabsolutely necessary she should be acquainted with hisperson.Upon my wordmadam" says she"it was very good to takethiscare ofMiss Western; but common humanityas well as regard to ourfamilyrequires it of us both; for it would be a dreadful matchindeed."

 Mrs. Fitzpatrick failed not to make a proper return to thecomplimentwhich Lady Bellaston had bestowed on her cousinandaftersomelittle immaterial conversationwithdrew; andgetting as fast asshe couldinto her chairunseen by Sophia or Honourreturned home.

Chapter4
Whichconsists of visiting

  Mr.Jones had walked within sight of a certain door during the wholedaywhichthough one of the shortestappeared to him to be one ofthelongest in the whole year. At lengththe clock having struckfivehereturned to Mrs. Fitzpatrickwhothough it was a fullhourearlier than the decent time of visitingreceived him verycivilly;but still persisted in her ignorance concerning Sophia.

 Jonesin asking for his angelhad dropped the word cousinuponwhich Mrs.Fitzpatrick said"Thensiryou know we are related: andas we areyou will permit me the right of inquiring into theparticularsof your business with my cousin." Here Jones hesitated agoodwhileand at last answered"He had a considerable sum ofmoney ofhers in his handswhich he desired to deliver to her." Hethenproduced the pocket-bookand acquainted Mrs. Fitzpatrick withthecontentsand with the method in which they came into his hands.He hadscarce finished his storywhen a most violent noise shookthe wholehouse. To attempt to describe this noise to those who haveheard itwould be in vain; and to aim at giving any idea of it tothose whohave never heard the likewould be still more vain: forit may betruly said-

    --------Non acuta
    Sic geminant Corybantes aera.

Thepriests of Cybele do not so rattle their sounding brass.

  Inshorta footman knockedor rather thunderedat the door. Joneswas alittle surprized at the soundhaving never heard it before; butMrs.Fitzpatrick very calmly saidthatas some company werecomingshe could not make him any answer now; but if he pleased tostay tillthey were goneshe intimated she had something to say tohim.

  Thedoor of the room now flew openandafter pushing in her hoopsidewaysbefore her; entered Lady Bellastonwho having first made avery lowcourtesy to Mrs. Fitzpatrickand as low a one to Mr.Joneswasushered to the upper end of the room.

  Wemention these minute matters for the sake of some countryladies ofour acquaintancewho think it contrary to the rules ofmodesty tobend their knees to a man.

  Thecompany were hardly well settledbefore the arrival of the peerlatelymentionedcaused a fresh disturbanceand a repetition ofceremonials.

 These being overthe conversation began to be (as the phrase is)extremelybrilliant. Howeveras nothing past in it which can bethoughtmaterial to this historyorindeedvery material in itselfI shallomit the relation; the ratheras I have known some veryfinepolite conversation grow extremely dullwhen transcribed intobooksorrepeated on the stage. Indeedthis mental repast is adaintyofwhich those who are excluded from polite assemblies must becontentedto remain as ignorant as they must of the several daintiesof Frenchcookerywhich are served only at the tables of the great.To say thetruthas neither of these are adapted to every tastetheymight bothbe of thrown away on the vulgar.

 Poor Jones was rather a spectator of this elegant scenethan anactor init; for thoughin the short interval before the peer'sarrivalLady Bellaston firstand afterwards Mrs. Fitzpatrickhadaddressedsome of their discourse to him; yet no sooner was thenoble lordenteredthan he engrossed the whole attention of the twoladies tohimself; and as he took no more notice of Jones than if nosuchperson had been presentunless by now and then staring at himthe ladiesfollowed his example.

  Thecompany had now staid so longthat Mrs. Fitzpatrick plainlyperceivedthey all designed to stay out each other. She thereforeresolvedto rid herself of Joneshe being the visitant to whom shethoughtthe least ceremony was due. Taking therefore an opportunity ofacessation of chatshe addressed herself gravely to himand said"SirI shall not possibly be able to give you an answer to-night asto thatbusiness; but if you please to leave word where I may sendto youto-morrow--"

 Jones had naturalbut not artificial good-breeding. Insteadthereforeof communicating the secret of his lodgings to a servantheacquainted the lady herself with it particularlyand soon afterveryceremoniously withdrew.

  Hewas no sooner gonethan the great personageswho had taken nonotice ofhim presentbegan to take much notice of him in hisabsence;but if the reader hath already excused us from relating themorebrilliant part of this conversationhe will surely be ready toexcuse therepetition of what may be called vulgar abuse; thoughperhapsit may be material to our history to mention an observationof LadyBellastonwho took her leave in a few minutes after himand thensaid to Mrs. Fitzpatrickat her departure"I am satisfiedon theaccount of my cousin; she can be in no danger from thisfellow."

  Ourhistory shall follow the example of Lady Bellastonand takeleave ofthe present companywhich was now reduced to two persons;betweenwhomas nothing passedwhich in the least concerns us or ourreaderweshall not suffer ourselves to be diverted by it frommatterswhich must seem of more consequence to all those who are atallinterested in the affairs of our heroe.

Chapter5
Anadventure which happened to Mr. Jones at his lodgingswithsomeaccount of a young gentleman who lodged thereand of themistressof the houseand her two daughters

  Thenext morningas early as it was decentJones attended atMrs.Fitzpatrick's doorwhere he was answered that the lady was notat home;an answer which surprized him the moreas he had walkedbackwardsand forwards in the street from break of day; and if she hadgone outhe must have seen her. This answerhoweverhe wasobliged toreceiveand not only nowbut to five several visits whichhe madeher that day.

  Tobe plain with the readerthe noble peer had from some reasonor otherperhaps from a regard for the lady's honourinsisted thatshe shouldnot see Mr. Joneswhom he looked on as a scrubanymore; andthe lady had complied in making that promise to which we nowsee her sostrictly adhere.

  Butas our gentle reader may possibly have a better opinion of theyounggentleman than her ladyshipand may even have some concernshould itbe apprehended thatduring this unhappy separation fromSophiahetook up his residence either at an innor in the street;we shallnow give an account of his lodgingwhich was indeed in averyreputable houseand in a very good part of the town.

  Mr.Jonesthenhad often heard Mr. Allworthy mention thegentlewomanat whose house he used to lodge when he was in town.Thispersonwhoas Jones likewise knewlived in Bond-streetwasthe widowof a clergymanand was left by himat his deceaseinpossessionof two daughtersand of a compleat set of manuscriptsermons.

  Ofthese two daughtersNancythe elderwas now arrived at the ageofseventeenand Bettythe youngerat that of ten.

 Hither Jones had dispatched Partridgeand in this house he wasprovidedwith a room for himself in the second floorand with one forPartridgein the fourth.

  Thefirst floor was inhabited by one of those young gentlemenwhointhe last agewere called men of wit and pleasure abouttownandproperly enough; for as men are usually denominated fromtheirbusiness or professionso pleasure may be said to have been theonlybusiness or profession of those gentlemen to whom fortune hadmade alluseful occupations unnecessary. Play-housescoffee-housesandtaverns were the scenes of their rendezvous. Wit and humour weretheentertainment of their looser hoursand love was the businessof theirmore serious moments. Wine and the muses conspired tokindle thebrightest flames in their breasts; nor did they onlyadmirebut some were able to celebrate the beauty they admiredandall tojudge of the merit of such compositions.

 Suchthereforewere properly called the men of wit and pleasure;but Iquestion whether the same appellation maywith the sameproprietybe given to those young gentlemen of our timeswho havethe sameambition to be distinguished for parts. Wit certainly theyhavenothing to do with. To give them their duethey soar a stephigherthan their predecessorsand may be called men of wisdom andvertu(take heed you do not read virtue). Thus at an age when thegentlemenabove mentioned employ their time in toasting the charmsof awomanor in making sonnets in her praise; in giving theiropinion ofa play at the theatreor of a poem at Will's orButton's;these gentlemen are considering the methods to bribe acorporationor meditating speeches for the House of Commonsorrather forthe magazines. But the science of gaming is that whichabove allothers employs their thoughts. These are the studies oftheirgraver hourswhile for their amusements they have the vastcircle ofconnoisseurshippaintingmusicstatuaryand naturalphilosophyor rather unnaturalwhich deals in the wonderfulandknowsnothing of Natureexcept her monsters and imperfections.

 When Jones had spent the whole day in vain inquiries after Mrs.Fitzpatrickhe returned at last disconsolate to his apartment.Herewhile he was venting his grief in privatehe heard a violentuproarbelow-stairs; and soon after a female voice begged him forheaven'ssake to come and prevent murder. Joneswho was neverbackwardon any occasion to help the distressedimmediately randownstairs;when stepping into the dining-roomwhence all the noiseissuedhebeheld the young gentleman of wisdom and vertu justbeforementionedpinned close to the wall by his footmanand a youngwomanstanding bywringing her handsand crying out"He will bemurdered!he will be murdered!" andindeedthe poor gentleman seemedin somedanger of being choakedwhen Jones flew hastily to hisassistanceand rescued himjust as he was breathing his lastfromtheunmerciful clutches of the enemy.

 Though the fellow had received several kicks and cuffs from thelittlegentlemanwho had more spirit than strengthhe had made ita kind ofscruple of conscience to strike his masterand would havecontentedhimself with only choaking him; but towards Jones he bore nosuchrespect: he no sooner therefore found himself a little roughlyhandled byhis new antagonistthan he gave him one of those punchesin theguts whichthough the spectators at Broughton's amphitheatrehave suchexquisite delight in seeing themconvey but very littlepleasurein the feeling.

  Thelusty youth had no sooner received this blowthan hemeditateda most grateful return; and now ensued a combat betweenJones andthe footmanwhich was very fiercebut short; for thisfellow wasno more able to contend with Jones than his master hadbeforebeen to contend with him.

  AndnowFortuneaccording to her usual customreversed the faceofaffairs. The former victor lay breathless on the groundand thevanquishedgentleman had recovered breath enough to thank Mr. Jonesfor hisseasonable assistance; he received likewise the heartythanks ofthe young woman presentwho was indeed no other than MissNancytheeldest daughter of the house.

  Thefootmanhaving now recovered his legsshook his head at Jonesandwitha sagacious lookcried

"O d--n meI'll have nothing moreto do withyou; you have been upon the stageor I'm d--nablymistaken."And indeed we may forgive this his suspicion; for such wastheagility and strength of our heroethat he wasperhapsa matchfor one ofthe first-rate boxersand couldwith great easehavebeaten allthe muffled graduates of Mr. Broughton'sschool.

  Themasterfoaming with wrathordered his man immediately tostriptowhich the latter very readily agreedon condition ofreceivinghis wages. This condition was presently complied withandthe fellowwas discharged.

  Andnow the young gentlemanwhose name was Nightingaleverystrenuouslyinsisted that his deliverer should take part of a bottleof winewith him; to which Jonesafter much entreatyconsentedthoughmore out of complacence than inclination; for the uneasiness ofhis mindfitted him very little for conversation at this time. MissNancylikewisewho was the only female then in the househer mammaand sisterbeing both gone to the playcondescended to favour themwith hercompany.

 When the bottle and glasses were on the tablethe gentleman beganto relatethe occasion of the preceding disturbance.

  "Ihopesir" said he to Jones"you will not from thisaccidentconcludethat I make a custom of striking my servantsfor I assureyou thisis the first time I have been guilty of it in my remembranceand I havepassed by many provoking faults in this very fellowbeforehe couldprovoke me to it; but when you hear what hath happened thiseveningyou willI believethink me excusable. I happened to comehomeseveral hours before my usual timewhen I found four gentlemenof thecloth at whist by my fire;- and my Hoylesir- my best Hoylewhich costme a guinealying open on the tablewith a quantity ofporterspilt on one of the most material leaves of the whole book.Thisyouwill allowwas provoking; but I said nothing till therest ofthe honest company were goneand then gave the fellow agentlerebukewhoinstead of expressing any concernmade me apertanswer'That servants must have their diversions as well asotherpeople; that he was sorry for the accident which had happened tothe bookbut that several of his acquaintance had bought the same forashillingand that I might stop as much in his wagesif I pleased.'I now gavehim a severer reprimand than beforewhen the rascal hadtheinsolence to-- In shorthe imputed my early coming home to-- Inshorthecast a reflection-- He mentioned the name of a young ladyin amanner- in such a manner that incensed me beyond all patienceandin mypassionI struck him."

 Jones answered"That he believed no person living would blamehim; formy part" said he"I confess I shouldon thelast-mentionedprovocationhave done the same thing."

  Ourcompany had not sat long before they were joined by the motheranddaughterat their return from the play. And now they all spenta verychearful evening together; for all but Jones were heartilymerryandeven he put on as much constrained mirth as possible.indeedhalf his natural flow of animal spiritsjoined to thesweetnessof his temperwas sufficient to make a most amiablecompanion;and notwithstanding the heaviness of his heartsoagreeabledid he make himself on the present occasionthatattheirbreaking upthe young gentleman earnestly desired his furtheracquaintance.Miss Nancy was well pleased with him; and the widowquitecharmed with her new lodgerinvited himwith the othernextmorning tobreakfast.

 Jones on his part was no less satisfied. As for Miss Nancythough averylittle creatureshe was extremely prettyand the widow hadall thecharms which can adorn a woman near fifty. As she was one ofthe mostinnocent creatures in the worldso she was one of the mostchearful.She never thoughtnor spokenor wished any illand hadconstantlythat desire of pleasingwhich may be called the happiestof alldesires in thisthat it scarce ever fails of attaining itsendswhennot disgraced by affectation. In shortthough her powerwas verysmallshe was in her heart one of the warmest friends. Shehad been amost affectionate wifeand was a most fond and tendermother. Asour history doth notlike a newspapergive greatcharactersto people who never were heard of beforenor will everbe heardof againthe reader may hence concludethat thisexcellentwoman will hereafter appear to be of some importance inourhistory.

  Norwas Jones a little pleased with the young gentleman himselfwhose winehe had been drinking. He thought he discerned in him muchgoodsensethough a little too much tainted with town-foppery; butwhatrecommended him most to Jones were some sentiments of greatgenerosityand humanitywhich occasionally dropt from him; andparticularlymany expressions of the highest disinterestedness inthe affairof love. On which subject the young gentleman deliveredhimself ina language which might have very well become an Arcadianshepherdof oldand which appeared very extraordinary when proceedingfrom thelips of a modern fine gentleman; but he was only one byimitationand meant by nature for a much better character.

Chapter6
Whatarrived while the company were at breakfastwith some hintsconcerningthe government of daughters

  Ourcompany brought together in the morning the same goodinclinationstowards each otherwith which they had separated theeveningbefore; but poor Jones was extremely disconsolate; for hehad justreceived information from Partridgethat Mrs. Fitzpatrickhad lefther lodgingand that he could not learn whither she wasgone. Thisnews highly afflicted himand his countenanceas wellas hisbehaviourin defiance of all his endeavours to the contrarybetrayedmanifest indications of a disordered mind.

  Thediscourse turned at presentas beforeon love; and Mr.Nightingaleagain expressed many of those warmgenerousanddisinterestedsentiments upon this subjectwhich wise and sober mencallromanticbut which wise and sober women generally regard in abetterlight. Mrs. Miller (for so the mistress of the house wascalled)greatly approved these sentiments; but when the younggentlemanappealed to Miss Nancyshe answered only"That shebelievedthe gentleman who had spoke the least was capable offeelingmost."

 This compliment was so apparently directed to Jonesthat weshouldhave been sorry had he passed it by unregarded. He made herindeed avery polite answerand concluded with an oblique hintthat herown silence subjected to a suspicion of the same kind: forindeed shehad scarce opened her lips either now or the last evening.

  "Iam gladNanny" says Mrs. Miller"the gentleman hath madetheobservation;I protest I am almost of his opinion. What can be thematterwith youchild? I never saw such an alteration. What is becomeof allyour gaiety? Would you thinksirI used to call her my littlepratler?She hath not spoke twenty words this week."

 Here their conversation was interrupted by the entrance of amaid-servantwho brought a bundle in her handwhichshe said"wasdelivered by a porter for Mr. Jones." She added"That themanimmediatelywent awaysayingit required no answer."

 Jones expressed some surprize on this occasionand declared it mustbe somemistake; but the maid persisting that she was certain of thenameallthe women were desirous of having the bundle immediatelyopened;which operation was at length performed by little Betsywith theconsent of Mr. Jones: and the contents were found to be adominoamaskand a masquerade ticket.

 Jones was now more positive than ever in assertingthat thesethingsmust have been delivered by mistake; and Mrs. Miller herselfexpressedsome doubtand said"She knew not what to think." ButwhenMr.Nightingale was askedhe delivered a very different opinion. "AllI canconclude from itsir" said he"isthat you are a veryhappy man;for I make no doubt but these were sent you by some ladywhom youwill have the happiness of meeting at the masquerade."

 Jones had not a sufficient degree of vanity to entertain any suchflatteringimagination; nor did Mrs. Miller herself give much assentto whatMr. Nightingale had saidtill Miss Nancy having lifted up thedominoacard dropt from the sleeve; in which was written asfollows:-

                            TO MR. JONES

    The queen of the fairies sends you this;
    Use her favours not amiss.

 Mrs. Miller and Miss Nancy now both agreed with Mr. Nightingale;nayJoneshimself was almost persuaded to be of the same opinion. Andas noother lady but Mrs. Fitzpatrickhe thoughtknew his lodginghe beganto flatter himself with some hopesthat it came from herand thathe might possibly see his Sophia. These hopes had surely verylittlefoundation; but as the conduct of Mrs. Fitzpatrickin notseeing himaccording to her promiseand in quitting her lodgingshadbeen veryodd and unaccountablehe conceived some faint hopesthatshe (ofwhom he had formerly heard a very whimsical character) mightpossiblyintend to do him that service in a strange mannerwhichshedeclined doing by more ordinary methods. To say the truthasnothingcertain could be concluded from so odd and uncommon anincidenthe had the greater latitude to draw what imaginaryconclusionsfrom it he pleased. As his temper therefore wasnaturallysanguinehe indulged it on this occasionand hisimaginationworked up a thousand conceitsto favour and support hisexpectationsof meeting his dear Sophia in the evening.

 Readerif thou hast any good wishes towards meI will fullyrepay themby wishing thee to be possessed of this sanguinedispositionof mind; sinceafter having read much and considered longon thatsubject of happiness which hath employed so many great pensIam almostinclined to fix it in the possession of this temper; whichputs usin a mannerout of the reach of Fortuneand makes ushappywithout her assistance. Indeedthe sensations of pleasure itgives aremuch more constantas well as much keenerthan those whichthat blindlady bestows; nature having wisely contrivedthat somesatietyand languor should be annexed to all our real enjoymentslestwe shouldbe so taken up by themas to be stopt from furtherpursuits.I make no manner of doubt but thatin this lightwe maysee theimaginary future chancellor just called to the barthearchbishopin crapeand the prime minister at the tail of anoppositionmore truly happy than those who are invested with allthe powerand profit of those respective offices.

  Mr.Jones having now determined to go to the masquerade thateveningMr. Nightingale offered to conduct him thither. The younggentlemanat the same timeoffered tickets to Miss Nancy and hermother;but the good woman would not accept them. She said"she didnotconceive the harm which some people imagined in a masquerade;but thatsuch extravagant diversions were proper only for persons ofqualityand fortuneand not for young women who were to get theirlivingand couldat besthope to be married to a goodtradesman."-

"A tradesman!" cries Nightingaleyou shan't undervaluemy Nancy.There is not a nobleman upon earth above her merit."

"Ofie!Mr.Nightingale" answered Mrs. Miller"you must not fill thegirl'shead with such fancies: but if it was her good luck" (saysthe motherwith a simper) "to find a gentleman of your generous way ofthinkingI hope she would make a better return to his generosity thanto giveher mind up to extravagant pleasures. Indeedwhere youngladiesbring great fortunes themselvesthey have some right to insistonspending what is their own; and on that account I have heard thegentlemensaya man has sometimes a better bargain with a poorwifethanwith a rich one.-- But let my daughters marry whom theywillIshall endeavour to make them blessings to their husbands:-- IbegthereforeI may hear of no more masquerades. Nancy isI amcertaintoo good a girl to desire to go; for she must remember whenyoucarried her thither last yearit almost turned her head; andshe didnot return to herselfor to her needlein a monthafterwards."

 Though a gentle sighwhich stole from the bosom of Nancyseemed toargue somesecret disapprobation of these sentimentsshe did not dareopenly tooppose them. For as this good woman had all thetendernessso she had preserved all the authority of a parent; and asherindulgence to the desires of her children was restrained only byher fearsfor their safety and future welfareso she never sufferedthosecommands which proceeded from such fears to be eitherdisobeyedor disputed. And this the young gentlemanwho had lodgedtwo yearsin the houseknew so wellthat he presently acquiescedin therefusal.

  Mr.Nightingalewho grew every minute fonder of Joneswas verydesirousof his company that day to dinner at the tavernwhere heoffered tointroduce him to some of his acquaintance; but Jones beggedto beexcused"as his cloaths" he said"were not yet cometo town."

  Toconfess the truthMr. Jones was now in a situationwhichsometimeshappens to be the case of young gentlemen of much betterfigurethan himself. In shorthe had not one penny in his pocket; asituationin much greater credit among the antient philosophersthan amongthe modern wise men who live in Lombard-streetor thosewhofrequent White's chocolate-house. Andperhapsthe greathonourswhich those philosophers have ascribed to an empty pocketmaybe one ofthe reasons of that high contempt in which they are heldin theaforesaid street and chocolate-house.

  Nowif the antient opinionthat men might live very comfortablyon virtueonlybeas the modern wise men just above-mentionedpretend tohave discovereda notorious error; no less false isIapprehendthat position of some writers of romancethat a man canlivealtogether on love: for however delicious repasts this may affordto some ofour senses or appetitesit is most certain it can affordnone toothers. Thosethereforewho have placed too great aconfidencein such writershave experienced their error when it wastoo late;and have found that love was no more capable of allayinghungerthan a rose is capable of delighting the earor a violin ofgratifyingthe smell.

 Notwithstandingthereforeall the delicacies which love had setbeforehimnamelythe hopes of seeing Sophia at the masquerade; onwhichhowever ill-founded his imagination might behe hadvoluptuouslyfeasted during the whole daythe evening no sooner camethan Mr.Jones began to languish for some food of a grosser kind.Partridgediscovered this by intuitionand took the occasion togive someoblique hints concerning the bankbill; andwhen thesewererejected with disdainhe collected courage enough once more tomention areturn to Mr. Allworthy.

 "Partridge" cries Jones"you cannot see my fortunein a moredesperatelight than I see it myself; and I begin heartily to repentthat Isuffered you to leave a place where you was settledand tofollow me.HoweverI insist now on your returning home; and for theexpenseand trouble which you have so kindly put yourself to on myaccountall the cloaths I left behind in your care I desire you wouldtake asyour own. I am sorry I can make you no other acknowledgment."

  Hespoke these words with so pathetic an accentthat Partridgeamongwhose vices ill-nature or hardness of heart were not numberedburst intotears; and after swearing he would not quit him in hisdistresshe began with the most earnest entreaties to urge his returnhome. "Forheaven's sakesir" says he"do but consider; what canyourhonour do?- how is it possible you can live in this town withoutmoney? Dowhat you willsiror go wherever you pleaseI am resolvednot todesert you. But praysirconsider- do praysirfor yourown saketake it into your consideration; and I'm sure" says he"thatyour own good sense will bid you return home."

 "How often shall I tell thee" answered Jones"that Ihave nohome toreturn to? Had I any hopes that Mr. Allworthy's doors would beopen toreceive meI want no distress to urge me- naythere is noothercause upon earthwhich could detain me a moment from flyingto hispresence; butalas! that I am for ever banished from. His lastwordswere- OPartridgethey still ring in my ears- his last wordswerewhenhe gave me a sum of money- what it was I know notbutconsiderableI'm sure it was- his last words were- 'I am resolved fromthis dayforwardon no accountto converse with you any more.'

 Here passion stopt the mouth of Jonesas surprize for a momentdid thatof Partridge; but he soon recovered the use of speechandafter ashort prefacein which he declared he had noinquisitivenessin his temperinquired what Jones meant by aconsiderablesum- he knew not how much- and what was become of themoney.

  Inboth these points he now received full satisfaction; on whichhe wasproceeding to commentwhen he was interrupted by a messagefrom Mr.Nightingalewho desired his master's company in hisapartment.

 When the two gentlemen were both attired for the masqueradeand Mr.Nightingalehad given orders for chairs to be sent fora circumstanceofdistress occurred to Joneswhich will appear very ridiculous tomany of myreaders. This was how to procure a shilling; but if suchreaderswill reflect a little on what they have themselves felt fromthe wantof a thousand poundsorperhapsof ten or twentytoexecute afavourite schemethey will have a perfect idea of whatMr. Jonesfelt on this occasion. For this sumthereforehe appliedtoPartridgewhich was the first he had permitted him to advanceandwas thelast he intended that poor fellow should advance in hisservice.To say the truthPartridge had lately made no offer ofthis kind.Whether it was that he desired to see the bank-bill brokein uponor that distress should prevail on Jones to return homeorfrom whatother motive it proceededI will not determine.

Chapter7
Containingthe whole humours of a masquerade

  Ourcavaliers now arrived at that templewhere Heydeggerthe greatArbiterDeliciarumthe great high-priest of pleasurepresides;andlikeother heathen priestsimposes on his votaries by thepretendedpresence of the deitywhen in reality no such deity isthere.

  Mr.Nightingalehaving taken a turn or two with his companionsoonleft himand walked off with a femalesaying"Now you are heresiryoumust beat about for your own game."

 Jones began to entertain strong hopes that his Sophia was present;and thesehopes gave him more spirits than the lightsthe musicand thecompany; though these are pretty strong antidotes againstthespleen. He now accosted every woman he sawwhose statureshapeorairbore any resemblance to his angel. To all of whom heendeavouredto say something smartin order to engage an answerbywhich hemight discover that voice which he thought it impossible heshouldmistake. Some of these answered by a questionin a squeakingvoiceDoyou know me? Much the greater number saidI don't know yousirandnothing more. Some called him an impertinent fellow; somemade himno answer at all; some saidIndeed I don't know yourvoiceandI shall have nothing to say to you; and many gave him askindanswers as he could wishbut not in the voice he desired tohear.

 Whilst he was talking with one of these last (who was in the habitof ashepherdess) a lady in a domino came up to himand slappinghim on theshoulderwhispered himat the same timein the ear"Ifyou talk any longer with that trollopI will acquaint MissWestern."

 Jones no sooner heard that namethanimmediately quitting hisformercompanionhe applied to the dominobegging and entreating herto showhim the lady she had mentionedif she was then in the room.

  Themask walked hastily to the upper end of the innermostapartmentbefore she spoke; and theninstead of answering himsatdownanddeclared she was tired. Jones sat down by herand stillpersistedin his entreaties: at last the lady coldly answered"IimaginedMr. Jones had been a more discerning loverthan to sufferanydisguise to conceal his mistress from him."

"Is she herethenmadam?"replied Joneswith some vehemence. Upon which the ladycries

"Hushsiryou will be observed. I promise youupon myhonourMiss Western is not here."

 Jonesnow taking the mask by the handfell to entreating her inthe mostearnest mannerto acquaint him where he might find Sophia:and whenhe could obtain no direct answerhe began to upbraid hergently forhaving disappointed him the day before; and concludedsaying"Indeedmy good fairy queenI know your majesty very wellnotwithstandingthe affected disguise of your voice. IndeedMrs.Fitzpatrickit is a little cruel to divert yourself at the expense ofmytorments."

  Themask answered"Though you have so ingeniously discovered meI muststill speak in the same voicelest I should be known byothers.And do you thinkgood sirthat I have no greater regardfor mycousinthan to assist in carrying on an affair between youtwowhichmust end in her ruinas well as your own? BesidesIpromiseyoumy cousin is not mad enough to consent to her owndestructionif you are so much her enemy as to tempt her to it."

 "Alasmadam!" said Jones"you little know my heartwhen youcall me anenemy of Sophia."

 "And yet to ruin any one" cries the other"you willallowisthe act ofan enemy; and when by the same act you must knowingly andcertainlybring ruin on yourselfis it not folly or madnessaswell asguilt? Nowsirmy cousin hath very little more than herfatherwill please to give her; very little for one of her fashion-you knowhimand you know your own situation."

 Jones vowed he had no such design on Sophia"That he wouldrathersuffer themost violent of deaths than sacrifice her interest to hisdesires."He said"he knew how unworthy he was of herevery waythat hehad long ago resolved to quit all such aspiring thoughtsbut thatsome strange accidents had made him desirous to see heronce morewhen he promised he would take leave of her for ever. Nomadam"concluded he"my love is not of that base kind which seeksits ownsatisfaction at the expense of what is most dear to itsobject. Iwould sacrifice everything to the possession of my Sophiabut Sophiaherself."

 Though the reader may have already conceived no very sublime idea ofthe virtueof the lady in the mask; and though possibly she mayhereafterappear not to deserve one of the first characters of hersex; yetit is certainthese generous sentiments made a strongimpressionupon herand greatly added to the affection she had beforeconceivedfor our young heroe.

  Thelady nowafter a silence of a few momentssaid"She did notsee hispretensions to Sophia so much in the light of presumptionas ofimprudence. Young fellows" says shecan never have tooaspiringthoughts. I love ambition in a young manand I would haveyoucultivate it as much as possible. Perhaps you may succeed withthose whoare infinitely superior in fortune; nayI am convincedthere arewomen-- but don't you think me a strange creatureMr.Jonestobe thus giving advice to a man with whom I am so littleacquaintedand one with whose behaviour to me I have so little reasonto bepleased?"

 Here Jones began to apologizeand to hope he had not offended inanythinghe had said of her cousin.- To which the mask answered"Andare you solittle versed in the sexto imagine you can well affront alady morethan by entertaining her with your passion for anotherwoman? Ifthe fairy queen had conceived no better opinion of yourgallantryshe would scarce have appointed you to meet her at themasquerade."

 Jones had never less inclination to an amour than at present; butgallantryto the ladies was among his principles of honour; and heheld it asmuch incumbent on him to accept a challenge to loveasif it hadbeen a challenge to fight. Nayhis very love to Sophia madeitnecessary for him to keep well with the ladyas he made no doubtbut shewas capable of bringing him into the presence of the other.

  Hebegan therefore to make a very warm answer to her last speechwhen amaskin the character of an old womanjoined them. Thismask wasone of those ladies who go to a masquerade only to ventill-natureby telling people rude truthsand by endeavouringas thephrase isto spoil as much sport as they are able. This good ladythereforehaving observed Jonesand his friendwhom she wellknewinclose consultation together in a corner of the roomconcludedshe could nowhere satisfy her spleen better than byinterruptingthem. She attacked themthereforeand soon drove themfrom theirretirement; nor was she contented with thisbut pursuedthem toevery place which they shifted to avoid her; till Mr.Nightingaleseeing the distress of his friendat last relievedhimandengaged the old woman in another pursuit.

 While Jones and his mask were walking together about the roomtoridthemselves of the teazerhe observed his lady speak to severalmaskswith the same freedom of acquaintance as if they had beenbarefaced.He could not help expressing his surprize at this;saying"Suremadamyou must have infinite discernmentto knowpeople inall disguises." To which the lady answered"You cannotconceiveanything more insipid and childish than a masquerade to thepeople offashionwho in general know one another as well hereaswhen theymeet in an assembly or a drawing-room; nor will any woman ofconditionconverse with a person with whom she is not acquainted. Inshortthegenerality of persons whom you see heremay moreproperlybe said to kill time in this place than in any other; andgenerallyretire from hence more tired than from the longest sermon.To say thetruthI begin to be in that situation myself; and if Ihave anyfaculty at guessingyou are not much better pleased. Iprotest itwould be almost charity in me to go home for your sake."

"Iknow butone charity equal to it" cries Jones"and that is tosufferme to waiton you home."

"Sure" answered the lady"youhave astrangeopinion of meto imaginethat upon such an acquaintanceIwould letyou into my doors at this time of night. I fancy youimpute thefriendship I have shown my cousin to some other motive.Confesshonestly; don't you consider this contrived interview aslittlebetter than a downright assignation? Are you usedMr. Jonesto makethese sudden conquests?"

"I am not usedmadam" saidJones"tosubmit to such sudden conquests; but as you have taken my heart bysurprizethe rest of my body hath a right to follow; so you mustpardon meif I resolve to attend you wherever you go." Heaccompaniedthese words with some proper actions; upon which the ladyafter agentle rebukeand saying their familiarity would be observedtold him"She was going to sup with an acquaintancewhither shehoped hewould not follow her; for if you should" said she"Ishall bethought an unaccountable creaturethough my friend indeed isnotcensorious: yet I hope you won't follow me; I protest I shallnot knowwhat to say if you do."

  Thelady presently after quitted the masqueradeand Jonesnotwithstandingthe severe prohibition he had receivedpresumed toattendher. He was now reduced to the same dilemma we have mentionedbeforenamelythe want of a shillingand could not relieve it byborrowingas before. He therefore walked boldly on after the chairin whichhis lady rodepursued by a grand huzzafrom all thechairmenpresentwho wisely take the best care they can todiscountenanceall walking afoot by their betters. Luckilyhoweverthe gentrywho attend at the Opera-house were too busy to quit theirstationsand as the lateness of the hour prevented him from meetingmany oftheir brethren in the streethe proceeded withoutmolestationin a dresswhichat another seasonwould havecertainlyraised a mob at his heels.

  Thelady was set down in a street not far from Hanover-squarewherethe doorbeing presently openedshe was carried inand thegentlemanwithout any ceremonywalked in after her.

 Jones and his companion were now together in a very well-furnishedandwell-warmed room; when the femalestill speaking in hermasqueradevoicesaid she was surprized at her friendwho mustabsolutelyhave forgot her appointment; at whichafter venting muchresentmentshe suddenly exprest some apprehension from Jonesandasked himwhat the world would think of their having been alonetogetherin a house at that time of night? But instead of a directanswer toso important a questionJones began to be veryimportunatewith the lady to unmask; and at length having prevailedthereappearednot Mrs. Fitzpatrickbut the Lady Bellaston herself.

  Itwould be tedious to give the particular conversationwhichconsistedof very common and ordinary occurrencesand which lastedfrom twotill six o'clock in the morning. It is sufficient tomentionall of it that is anywise material to this history. And thiswas apromise that the lady would endeavour to find out Sophiaand ina few daysbring him to an interview with heron condition that hewould thentake his leave of her. When this was thoroughly settledand asecond meeting in the evening appointed at the same placetheyseparated; the lady returned to her houseand Jones to hislodgings.

Chapter8
Containinga scene of distresswhich will appear very extraordinaryto most ofour readers

 Jones having refreshed himself with a few hours' sleepsummonedPartridgeto his presence; and delivering him a bank-note of fiftypoundsordered him to go and change it. Partridge received thiswithsparkling eyesthoughwhen he came to reflect fartheritraised inhim some suspicions not very advantageous to the honour ofhismaster: to these the dreadful idea he had of the masqueradethedisguisein which his master had gone out and returnedand his havingbeenabroad all nightcontributed. In plain languagethe only way hecouldpossibly find to account for the possession of this notewas byrobbery:andto confess the truththe readerunless he shouldsuspect itwas owing to the generosity of Lady Bellastoncan hardlyimagineany other.

  Toclearthereforethe honour of Mr. Jonesand to do justice totheliberality of the ladyhe had really received this present fromherwhothough she did not give much into the hackney charities ofthe agesuch as building hospitals&c.was nothoweverentirelyvoid ofthat Christian virtue; and conceived (very rightly I think)that ayoung fellow of meritwithout a shilling in the worldwasnoimproper object of this virtue.

  Mr.Jones and Mr. Nightingale had been invited to dine this day withMrs.Miller. At the appointed hourthereforethe two younggentlemenwith the two girlsattended in the parlourwhere theywaitedfrom three till almost five before the good woman appeared. Shehad beenout of town to visit a relationof whomat her returnshe gavethe following account.

  "Ihopegentlemenyou will pardon my making you wait; I am sure ifyou knewthe occasion- I have been to see a cousin of mineabout sixmiles offwho now lies in.- It should be a warning to all persons(says shelooking at her daughters) how they marry indiscreetly.There isno happiness in this world without a competency. O Nancy! howshall Idescribe the wretched condition in which I found your poorcousin?she hath scarce lain in a weekand there was shethisdreadfulweatherin a cold roomwithout any curtains to her bedandnot abushel of coals in her house to supply her with fire: her secondsonthatsweet little fellowlies ill of a quinzy in the same bedwith hismother; for there is no other bed in the house. Poor littleTommy! IbelieveNancyyou will never see your favourite any more;for he isreally very ill. The rest of the children are in pretty goodhealth:but MollyI am afraidwill do herself an injury: she isbutthirteen years oldMr. Nightingaleand yetin my lifeInever sawa better nurse: she tends both her mother and her brother;andwhatis wonderful in a creature so youngshe shows all thechearfulnessin the world to her mother; and yet I saw her- I saw thepoorchildMr. Nightingaleturn aboutand privately wipe thetears fromher eyes." Here Mrs. Miller was preventedby her owntearsfrom going onand there was notI believea person presentwho didnot accompany her in them; at length she a little recoveredherselfand proceeded thus: "In all this distress the mother supportsherspirits in a surprizing manner. The danger of her son sitsheaviestupon herand yet she endeavours as much as possible toconcealeven this concernon her husband's account. Her griefhoweversometimes gets the better of all her endeavours; for shewas alwaysextravagantly fond of this boyand a most sensiblesweet-temperedcreature it is. I protest I was never more affectedin mylifethan when I heard the little wretchwho is hardly yetsevenyears oldwhile his mother was wetting him with her tearsbeg her tobe comforted. 'Indeedmamma' cried the child'I shan'tdie; GodAlmightyI'm surewon't take Tommy away; let heaven be everso fine aplaceI had rather stay here and starve with you and mypapathango to it.' Pardon megentlemenI can't help it" (saysshewiping her eyes)"such sensibility and affection in a child.-And yetperhapshe is least the object of pity; for a day or twowillmostprobablyplace him beyond the reach of all human evils.The fatherisindeedmost worthy of compassion. Poor manhiscountenanceis the very picture of horrorand he looks like oneratherdead than alive. Oh heavens! what a scene did I behold at myfirstcoming into the room! The good creature was lying behind thebolstersupporting at once both his child and his wife. He hadnothing onbut a thin waistcoat; for his coat was spread over the bedto supplythe want of blankets.- When he rose up at my entranceIscarceknew him. As comely a manMr. Joneswithin this fortnightasyou everbeheld; Mr. Nightingale hath seen him. His eyes sunkhisface palewith a long beard. His body shivering with coldand wornwithhunger too; for my cousin says she can hardly prevail upon him toeat.- Hetold me himself in a whisper- he told me- I can't repeat it-he said hecould not bear to eat the bread his children wanted. Andyetcanyou believe itgentlemen? in all this misery his wife has asgoodcaudle as if she lay in the midst of the greatest affluence; Itasted itand I scarce ever tasted better.- The means of procuringher thishe saidhe believed was sent by an angel from heaven. Iknow notwhat he meant; for I had not spirits enough to ask a singlequestion.

 "This was a love-matchas they call iton both sides; that isamatchbetween two beggars. I mustindeedsayI never saw a fonderTom Jonescouple; but what is their fondness good forbut totormenteach other?"

"Indeedmamma" cries Nancy"Ihave alwayslooked onmy cousin Anderson" (for that was her name) "as one of thehappiestof women."

"I am sure" says Mrs. Miller"thecase atpresent ismuch otherwise; for any one might have discerned that thetenderconsideration of each other's sufferings makes the mostintolerablepart of their calamityboth to the husband and wife.Comparedto whichhunger and coldas they affect their own personsonlyarescarce evils. Naythe very childrenthe youngestwhich isnot twoyears oldexceptedfeel in the same manner; for they are amostloving familyandif they had but a bare competencywould bethehappiest people in the world."

"I never saw the least signofmisery ather house" replied Nancy; "I am sure my heart bleeds forwhat younow tell me."

"O child" answered the mother"shehathalwaysendeavoured to make the best of everything. They have alwaysbeen ingreat distress; butindeedthis absolute ruin hath beenbroughtupon them by others. The poor man was bail for the villain hisbrother;and about a week agothe very day before her lying-intheirgoods wereall carried awayand sold by an execution. He sent aletter tome of it by one of the bailiffswhich the villain neverdelivered.-What must he think of my suffering a week to pass beforehe heardof me?"

  Itwas not with dry eyes that Jones heard this narrative; when itwas endedhe took Mrs. Miller apart with him into another roomanddeliveringher his pursein which was the sum of L50desired herto send asmuch of it as she thought proper to these poor people.The lookwhich Mrs. Miller gave Joneson this occasionis not easyto bedescribed. She burst into a kind of agony of transportandcryed out

"Good heavens! is there such a man in the world?"- Butrecollectingherselfshe said"Indeed I know one such; but can therebeanother?"

"I hopemadam" cries Jones"thereare many who havecommonhumanity; for to relieve such distress in our fellow-creaturescan hardlybe called more." Mrs. Miller then took ten guineaswhichwere theutmost he could prevail with her to acceptand said"Shewould findsome means of conveying them early the next morning;"adding"that she had herself done some little matter for the poorpeopleand had not left them in quite so much misery as she foundthem."

 They then returned to the parlourwhere Nightingale expressedmuchconcern at the dreadful situation of these wretcheswhomindeed heknew; for he had seen them more than once at Mrs.Miller's.He inveighed against the folly of making oneself liablefor thedebts of others; vented many bitter execrations against thebrother;and concluded with wishing something could be done for theunfortunatefamily. "Supposemadam" said he"you shouldrecommendthem toMr. Allworthy? Or what think you of a collection? I willgive thema guinea with all my heart."

 Mrs. Miller made no answer; and Nancyto whom her mother hadwhisperedthe generosity of Jonesturned pale upon the occasion;thoughifeither of them was angry with Nightingaleit was surelywithoutreason. For the liberality of Jonesif he had known itwasnot anexample which he had any obligation to followand there arethousandswho would not have contributed a single halfpennyas indeedhe did notin effectfor he made no tender of anything; andthereforeas the others thought proper to make no demandhe kept hismoney inhis pocket.

  Ihavein truthobservedand shall never have a betteropportunitythan at present to communicate my observationthat theworld arein general divided into two opinions concerning charitywhich arethe very reverse of each other. One party seems to holdthat allacts of this kind are to be esteemed as voluntary giftsandhoweverlittle you give (if indeed no more than your good wishes)youacquire agreat degree of merit in so doing. Otherson thecontraryappear to be as firmly persuaded that beneficence is apositivedutyand that whenever the rich fall greatly short oftheirability in relieving the distresses of the poortheir pitifullargessesare so far from being meritoriousthat they have onlyperformedtheir duty by halvesand are in some sense morecontemptiblethan those who have entirely neglected it.

  Toreconcile these different opinions is not in my power. I shallonly addthat the givers are generally of the former sentimentandthereceivers are almost universally inclined to the latter.

Chapter9
Whichtreats of matters of a very different kind from those in theprecedingchapter

  Inthe evening Jones met his lady againand a long conversationagainensued between them: but as it consisted only of the sameordinaryoccurrences as beforewe shall avoid mentioning particularswhich wedespair of rendering agreeable to the reader; unless he isone whosedevotion to the fair sexlike that of the papists totheirsaintswants to be raised by the help of pictures. But I amso farfrom desiring to exhibit such pictures to the publicthat Iwould wishto draw a curtain over those that have been lately setforth incertain French novels; very bungling copies of which havebeenpresented us here under the name of translations.

 Jones grew still more and more impatient to see Sophia; and findingafterrepeated interviews with Lady Bellastonno likelihood ofobtainingthis by her means (foron the contrarythe lady began totreat eventhe mention of the name of Sophia with resentment)heresolvedto try some other method. He made no doubt but that LadyBellastonknew where his angel wasso he thought it most likelythat someof her servants should be acquainted with the same secret.Partridgetherefore was employed to get acquainted with thoseservantsin order to fish this secret out of them.

  Fewsituations can be imagined more uneasy than that to which hispoormaster was at present reduced; for besides the difficulties hemet within discovering Sophiabesides the fears he had of havingdisobligedherand the assurances he had received from Lady Bellastonof theresolution which Sophia had taken against himand of herhavingpurposely concealed herself from himwhich he had sufficientreason tobelieve might be true; he had still a difficulty tocombatwhich it was not in the power of his mistress to removehoweverkind her inclination might have been. This was the exposing ofher to bedisinherited of all her father's estatethe almostinevitableconsequence of their coming together without a consentwhich hehad no hopes of ever obtaining.

  Addto all these the many obligations which Lady Bellastonwhoseviolentfondness we can no longer concealhad heaped upon him; sothat byher means he was now become one of the best-dressed menabouttown; and was not only relieved from those ridiculous distresseswe havebefore mentionedbut was actually raised to a state ofaffluencebeyond what he had ever known.

 Nowthough there are many gentlemen who very well reconcile it totheirconsciences to possess themselves of the whole fortune of awomanwithout making her any kind of return; yet to a mindtheproprietorof which doth not deserved to be hangednothing isIbelievemore irksome than to support love with gratitude only;especiallywhere inclination pulls the heart a contrary way. Suchwas theunhappy case of Jones; for though the virtuous love he bore toSophiaand which left very little affection for any other womanhad beenentirely out of the questionhe could never have been ableto havemade any adequate return to the generous passion of this ladywho hadindeed been once an object of desirebut was now entered atleast intothe autumn of lifethough she wore all the gaiety ofyouthboth in her dress and manner; nayshe contrived still tomaintainthe roses in her cheeks; but theselike flowers forced outof seasonby arthad none of that lively blooming freshness withwhichNatureat the proper timebedecks her own productions. Shehadbesidesa certain imperfectionwhich renders some flowersthoughvery beautiful to the eyevery improper to be placed in awildernessof sweetsand what above all others is most disagreeableto thebreath of love.

 Though Jones saw all these discouragements on the one sidehefelt hisobligations full as strongly on the other; nor did he lessplainlydiscern the ardent passion whence those obligations proceededtheextreme violence of which if he failed to equalhe well knewthe ladywould think him ungrateful; andwhat is worsehe would havethoughthimself so. He knew the tacit consideration upon which all herfavourswere conferred; and as his necessity obliged him to acceptthemsohis honourhe concludedforced him to pay the price. Thisthereforehe resolved to dowhatever misery it cost himand todevotehimself to herfrom that great principle of justicebywhich thelaws of some countries oblige a debtorwho is nootherwisecapable of discharging his debtto become the slave ofhiscreditor.

 While he was meditating on these mattershe received thefollowingnote from the lady:-

  Avery foolishbut a very perverse accident hath happened since ourlastmeetingwhich makes it improper I should see you any moreifpossiblecontrive at the usual place. I will some other place byto-morrow.In the meantimeadieu.

 This disappointmentperhapsthe reader may conclude was not verygreat; butif it washe was quickly relieved; for in less than anhourafterwards another note was brought him from the same handwhichcontainedas follows:-

  Ihave altered my mind since I wrote; a change whichif you arenostranger to the tenderest of all passionsyou will not wonderat. I amnow resolved to see you this evening at my own housewhatevermay be the consequence. Come to me exactly at seven; I dineabroadbut will be at home by that time. A dayI findto those thatsincerelyloveseems longer than I imagined.

  Ifyou should accidentally be a few moments before mebid them showyou intothe drawing-room.

  Toconfess the truthJones was less pleased with this lastepistlethan he had been with the formeras he was prevented by itfromcomplying with the earnest entreaties of Mr. Nightingalewithwhom hehad now contracted much intimacy and friendship. Theseentreatieswere to go with that young gentleman and his company to anew playwhich was to be acted that eveningand which a very largeparty hadagreed to damnfrom some dislike they had taken to theauthorwho was a friend to one of Mr. Nightingale's acquaintance. Andthis sortof funour heroewe are ashamed to confesswouldwillinglyhave preferred to the above kind appointment; but his honourgot thebetter of his inclination.

 Before we attend him to this intended interview with the ladywethinkproper to account for both the preceding notesas the readermaypossibly be not a little surprized at the imprudence of LadyBellastonin bringing her lover to the very house where her rival waslodged.

 Firstthenthe mistress of the house where these lovers hadhithertometand who had been for some years a pensioner to thatladywasnow become a methodistand had that very morning waitedupon herladyshipand after rebuking her very severely for her pastlifehadpositively declared that she wouldon no accountbeinstrumentalin carrying on any of her affairs for the future.

  Thehurry of spirits into which this accident threw the ladymadeherdespair of possibly finding any other convenience to meet Jonesthatevening; bit as she began a little to recover from her uneasinessat thedisappointmentshe set her thoughts to workwhen luckily itcame intoher head to propose to Sophia to go to the playwhich wasimmediatelyconsented toand a proper lady provided for hercompanion.Mrs. Honour was likewise despatched with Mrs. Etoff onthe sameerrand of pleasure; and thus her own house was left freefor thesafe reception of Mr. Joneswith whom she promised herselftwo orthree hours of uninterrupted conversationafter her returnfrom theplace where she dinedwhich was at a friend's house in aprettydistant part of the townnear her old place of assignationwhere shehad engaged herself before she was well apprized of therevolutionthat had happened in the mind and morals of her lateconfidante.

Chapter10
A chapterwhichthough shortmay draw tears from some eyes

  Mr.Jones was just dressed to wait on Lady Bellastonwhen Mrs.Millerrapped at his door; andbeing admittedvery earnestly desiredhiscompany below-stairsto drink tea in the parlour.

 Upon his entrance into the roomshe presently introduced a personto himsaying"Thissiris my cousinwho hath been so greatlybeholdento your goodnessfor which he begs to return you hissincerestthanks."

  Theman had scarce entered upon that speechwhich Mrs. Miller hadso kindlyprefacedwhen both Jones and helooking stedfastly at eachothershowed at once the utmost tokens of surprize. The voice ofthe latterbegan instantly to faulter; andinstead of finishing hisspeechhesunk down into a chaircrying"It is soI am convincedit is so!"

 "Bless me! what's the meaning of this?" cries Mrs. Miller;"youare notillI hopecousin? Some watera dram this instant."

  "Benot frightedmadam" cries Jones"I have almost as muchneedof a dramas your cousin. We are equally surprized at thisunexpectedmeeting. Your cousin is an acquaintance of mineMrs.Miller."

  "Anacquaintance!" cries the man.-

"Ohheaven!"

 "Ayan acquaintance" repeated Jones"and anhonoured acquaintancetoo. WhenI do not love and honour the man who dares ventureeverythingto preserve his wife and children from instant destructionmay I havea friend capable of disowning me in adversity!"

 "Ohyou are an excellent young man" cries Mrs. Miller:

"Yesindeedpoor creature! he hath ventured everything.- If he had nothad one ofthe best of constitutionsit must have killed him."

 "Cousin" cries the manwho had now pretty well recoveredhimself"this is the angel from heaven whom I meant. This is he towhombefore I saw youI owed the preservation of my Peggy. He it wasto whosegenerosity every comfortevery support which I have procuredfor herwas owing. He isindeedthe worthiestbravestnoblestofall humanbeings. O cousinI have obligations to this gentleman ofsuch anature!"

 "Mention nothing of obligations" cries Jones eagerly; "notawordIinsist upon itnot a word" (meaningI supposethat he wouldnot havehim betray the affair of the robbery to any person). "Ifby thetrifle you have received from meI have preserved a wholefamilysure pleasure was never bought so cheap."

 "Ohsir!" cries the man"I wish you could thisinstant see myhouse. Ifany person had ever a right to the pleasure you mentionIamconvinced it is yourself. My cousin tells me she acquainted youwith thedistress in which she found us. Thatsiris all greatlyremovedand chiefly by your goodness.-- My children have now a bed tolie on--and they have-- they have-- eternal blessings reward you forit!-- theyhave bread to eat. My little boy is recovered; my wife isout ofdangerand I am happy. Allall owing to yousirand to mycousinhereone of the best of women. IndeedsirI must see youat myhouse.- Indeed my wife must see youand thank you.- My childrentoo mustexpress their gratitude.-- Indeedsirthey are not withouta sense oftheir obligation; but what is my feelingwhen I reflect towhom I owethat they are now capable of expressing theirgratitude.--Ohsirthe little hearts which you have warmed had nowbeen coldas ice without your assistance."

 Here Jones attempted to prevent the poor man from proceeding; butindeed theoverflowing of his own heart would of itself have stoppedhis words.And now Mrs. Miller likewise began to pour forththanksgivingsas well in her own nameas in that of her cousinandconcluded with saying"She doubted not but such goodness wouldmeet aglorious reward."

 Jones answered"He had been sufficiently rewarded already. Yourcousin'saccountmadam" said he"hath given me a sensation morepleasingthan I have ever known. He must be a wretch who is unmoved athearingsuch a story; how transporting then must be the thought ofhavinghappily acted a part in this scene! If there are men who cannotfeel thedelight of giving happiness to othersI sincerely pity themas theyare incapable of tasting what isin my opiniona greaterhonourahigher interestand a sweeter pleasurethan the ambitioustheavariciousor the voluptuous man can ever obtain."

  Thehour of appointment being now comeJones was forced to take ahastyleavebut not before he had heartily shaken his friend by thehandanddesired to see him again as soon as possible; promising thathe wouldhimself take the first opportunity of visiting him at his ownhouse. Hethen stept into his chairand proceeded to LadyBellaston'sgreatly exulting in the happiness which he had procuredto thispoor family; nor could he forbear reflectingwithouthorroronthe dreadful consequences which must have attended themhad helistened rather to the voice of strict justicethan to that ofmercywhen he was attacked on the high road.

 Mrs. Miller sung forth the praise of Jones during the whole eveningin whichMr. Andersonwhile he stayedso passionately accompaniedherthathe was often on the very point of mentioning thecircumstanceof the robbery. Howeverhe luckily recollectedhimselfand avoided an indiscretion which would have been so much thegreateras he knew Mrs. Miller to be extremely strict and nice in herprinciples.He was likewise well apprized of the loquacity of thislady; andyet such was his gratitudethat it had almost got thebetterboth of discretion and shameand made him publish that whichwould havedefamed his own characterrather than omit anycircumstanceswhich might do the fullest honour to his benefactor.

Chapter11
In whichthe reader will be surprized

  Mr.Jones was rather earlier than the time appointedand earlierthan thelady; whose arrival was hinderednot only by the distance ofthe placewhere she dinedbut by some other cross accidents veryvexatiousto one in her situation of mind. He was accordingly showninto thedrawing-roomwhere he had not been many minutes before thedooropenedand in came-- no other than Sophia herselfwho had leftthe playbefore the end of the first act; for thisas we have alreadysaidbeing a new playat which two large parties metthe one todamnandthe other to applauda violent uproarand an engagementbetweenthe two partieshad so terrified our heroinethat she wasglad toput herself under the protection of a young gentlemanwhosafelyconveyed her to her chair.

  AsLady Bellaston had acquainted her that she should not be athome tilllateSophiaexpecting to find no one in the roomcamehastilyinand went directly to a glass which almost fronted herwithoutonce looking towards the upper end of the roomwhere thestatue ofJones now stood motionless.- In this glass it wasaftercontemplatingher own lovely facethat she first discovered thesaidstatue; wheninstantly turning aboutshe perceived thereality ofthe vision: upon which she gave a violent screamandscarcepreserved herself from faintingtill Jones was able to move toherandsupport her in his arms.

  Topaint the looks or thoughts of either of these loversisbeyond mypower. As their sensationsfrom their mutual silencemaybe judgedto have been too big for their own utteranceit cannot besupposedthat I should be able to express them: and the misfortune isthat fewof my readers have been enough in love to feel by their ownheartswhat past at this time in theirs.

 After a short pauseJoneswith faultering accentssaid

"Iseemadamyouare surprized."

"Surprized!" answered she; "Ohheavens!IndeedIam surprized. I almost doubt whether you are the personyouseem."

"Indeed" cries she"my Sophiapardonmemadamforthis oncecalling you soI am that very wretched Joneswhom fortuneafter somany disappointmentshathat lastkindly conducted to you.Oh! mySophiadid you know the thousand torments I have suffered inthis longfruitless pursuit."

"Pursuit of whom?" said Sophiaalittlerecollecting herselfand assuming a reserve air.

"Can you beso cruelto ask that question?" cries Jones; "Need I sayof you?"

"Ofme!answered Sophia: "Hath Mr. Jonesthenany such importantbusinesswith me?"

"To somemadam" cries Jones"thismight seemanimportant business" (giving her the pocket-book)"I hopemadamyou willfind it of the same value as when it was lost." Sophia tookthepocket-bookand was going to speakwhen he interrupted herthus:

"Let us notI beseech youlose one of these precious momentswhichfortune hath so kindly sent us. Omy Sophia! I have business ofa muchsuperior kind. Thuson my kneeslet me ask your pardon."

"Mypardon!"cries she; "Suresirafter what is pastyou cannot expectafter whatI have heard."

"I scarce know what I say" answeredJones."Byheavens! I scarce wish you should pardon me. O my Sophia!henceforthnever cast away a thought on such a wretch as I am. If anyremembranceof me should ever intrude to give a moment's uneasiness tothattender bosomthink of my unworthiness; and let the remembranceof whatpassed at Upton blot me for ever from your mind."

 Sophia stood trembling all this while. Her face was whiter thansnowandher heart was throbbing through her stays. But at themention ofUptona blush arose in her cheeksand her eyeswhichbefore shehad scarce lifted upwere turned upon Jones with aglance ofdisdain. He understood this silent reproachand repliedto itthus: "O my Sophia! my only love! you cannot hate or despiseme morefor what happened therethan I do myself; but yet do me thejustice tothinkthat my heart was never unfaithful to you. Thathad noshare in the folly I was guilty of; it was even thenunalterablyyours. Though I despaired of possessing younayalmostof everseeing you moreI doated still on your charming ideaandcouldseriously love no other woman. But if my heart had not beenengagedsheinto company I accidently fell at that cursed placewasnot anobject of serious love. Believe memy angelI never have seenher fromthat day to this; and never intend or desire to see heragain."Sophiain her heartwas very glad to hear this; butforcinginto her face an air of more coldness than she had yetassumed"Why" said she"Mr. Jonesdo you take the troubletomake adefence where you are not accused? If I thought it worthwhile toaccuse youI have a charge of an unpardonable natureindeed."

"What is itfor heaven's sake?" answered Jonestremblingand paleexpecting to hear of his amour with Lady Bellaston. "Oh"said she"how is it possible! can everything nobleand everythingbasebelodged together in the same bosom?" Lady Bellastonand theignominiouscircumstance of having been keptrose again in hismindandstopt his mouth from any reply. "Could I have expected"proceededSophia"such treatment from you? Nayfrom any gentlemanfrom anyman of honour? To have my name traduced in public; in innsamong themeanest vulgar! to have any little favoursthat myunguardedheart may have too lightly betrayed me to grantboastedof there!nayeven to hear that you had been forced to fly from mylove!"

 Nothing could equal Jones's surprize at these words of Sophia; butyetnotbeing guiltyhe was much less embarrassed how to defendhimselfthan if she had touched that tender string at which hisconsciencehad been alarmed. By some examination he presently foundthat hersupposing him guilty of so shocking an outrage against hisloveandher reputationwas entirely owing to Partridge's talk atthe innsbefore landlords and servants; for Sophia confessed to him itwas fromthem that she received her intelligence. He had no very greatdifficultyto make her believe that he was entirely innocent of anoffence soforeign to his character; but she had a great deal tohinder himfrom going instantly homeand putting Partridge todeathwhich he more than once swore he would do. This point beingclearedupthey soon found themselves so well pleased with eachotherthat Jones quite forgot he had begun the conversation withconjuringher to give up all thoughts of him; and she was in atemper tohave given ear to a petition of a very different nature; forbeforethey were aware they had both gone so farthat he let fallsome wordsthat sounded like a proposal of marriage. To which shereplied"Thatdid not her duty to her father forbid her to followher owninclinationsruin with him would be more welcome to herthan themost affluent fortune with another man." At the mention ofthe wordruinhe startedlet drop her handwhich he had held forsome timeand striking his breast with his owncried out"OhSophia!can I then ruin thee? No; by heavensno! I never will actso base apart. Dearest Sophiawhatever it costs meI willrenounceyou; I will give you up; I will tear all such hopes from myheart asare inconsistent with your real good. My love I will everretainbut it shall be in silence; it shall be at a distance fromyou; itshall be in some foreign land; from whence no voiceno sighof mydespairshall ever reach and disturb your ears. And when I amdead"-He would have gone onbut was stopt by a flood of tears whichSophia letfall in his bosomupon which she leanedwithout beingable tospeak one word. He kissed them offwhichfor some momentssheallowed him to do without any resistance; but then recollectingherselfgently withdrew out of his arms; andto turn the discoursefrom asubject too tenderand which she found she could notsupportbethought herself to ask him a question she never had time toput to himbefore"How he came into that room?" He began tostammerand wouldin all probabilityhave raised her suspicionsby theanswer he was going to givewhenat oncethe door openedand incame Lady Bellaston.

 Having advanced a few stepsand seeing Jones and Sophia togethershesuddenly stopt; whenafter a pause of a few momentsrecollectingherselfwith admirable presence of mindshe said- though withsufficientindications of surprize both in voice and countenance

"IthoughtMiss Westernyou had been at the play?"

 Though Sophia had no opportunity of learning of Jones by whatmeans hehad discovered heryetas she had not the least suspicionof thereal truthor that Jones and Lady Bellaston were acquaintedso she wasvery little confounded; and the lessas the lady hadinall theirconversations on the subjectentirely taken her sideagainsther father. With very little hesitationthereforeshe wentthroughthe whole story of what had happened at the play-houseandthe causeof her hasty return.

  Thelength of this narrative gave Lady Bellaston an opportunity ofrallyingher spiritsand of considering in what manner to act. And asthebehaviour of Sophia gave her hopes that Jones had not betrayedhersheput on an air of good humourand said"I should not havebroke inso abruptly upon youMiss Westernif I had known you hadcompany."

 Lady Bellaston fixed her eyes on Sophia whilst she spoke thesewords. Towhich that poor young ladyhaving her face overspreadwithblushes and confusionansweredin a stammering voice"I amsuremadamI shall always think the honour of your ladyship'scompany--"

"I hopeat least" cries Lady Bellaston"I interruptnobusiness."

"Nomadam" answered Sophia"our business was at anend. Yourladyship may be pleased to remember I have often mentionedthe lossof my pocket-bookwhich this gentlemanhaving veryluckilyfoundwas so kind to return it to me with the bill in it."

 Jonesever since the arrival of Lady Bellastonhad been ready tosink withfear. He sat kicking his heelsplaying with his fingersandlooking more like a foolif it be possiblethan a young boobysquirewhen he is first introduced into a polite assembly. Hebeganhowevernow to recover himself; and taking a hint from thebehaviourof Lady Bellastonwho he saw did not intend to claim anyacquaintancewith himhe resolved as entirely to affect thestrangeron his part. He said"Ever since he had the pocket-book inhispossessionhe had used great diligence in inquiring out thelady whosename was writ in it; but never till that day could be sofortunateto discover her."

 Sophia indeed mentioned the loss of her pocket-book to LadyBellaston;but as Jonesfor some reason or otherhad never oncehinted toher that it was in his possessionshe believed not onesyllableof what Sophia now saidand wonderfully admired theextremequickness of the young lady in inventing such an excuse. Thereason ofSophia's leaving the playhouse met with no better credit;and thoughshe could not account for the meeting. between these twoloversshe was firmly persuaded it was not accidental.

 With an affected smilethereforeshe said"IndeedMissWesternyou have had very good luck in recovering your money. Notonly as itfell into the hands of a gentleman of honourbut as hehappenedto discover to whom it belonged. I think you would notconsent tohave it advertised.- It was great good fortunesirthatyou foundout to whom the note belonged."

 "Ohmadam" cries Jones"it was enclosed in apocket-bookinwhich theyoung lady's name was written."

 "That was very fortunate indeed" cries the lady:

"Andit was noless sothat you heard Miss Western was at my house; for she isverylittle known."

 Jones had at length perfectly recovered his spirits; and as heconceivedhe had now an opportunity of satisfying Sophiaas to thequestionshe had asked him just before Lady Bellaston came inheproceededthus: "Whymadam" answered he"it was by theluckiestchanceimaginable I made this discovery. I was mentioning what I hadfoundandthe name of the ownerthe other night to a lady at themasqueradewho told me she believed she knew where I might see MissWestern;and if I would come to her house the next morning she wouldinform me.I went according to her appointmentbut she was not athome; norcould I ever meet with her till this morningwhen shedirectedme to your ladyship's house. I came accordinglyand didmyself thehonour to ask for your ladyship; and upon my saying thatI had veryparticular businessa servant showed me into this room;where Ihad not been long before the young lady returned from theplay."

 Upon his mentioning the masqueradehe looked very slily at LadyBellastonwithout any fear of being remarked my Sophia; for she wasvisiblytoo much confounded to make any observations. This hint alittlealarmed the ladyand she was silent; when Joneswho saw theagitationof Sophia's mindresolved to take the only method ofrelievingherwhich was by retiring; butbefore he did thishesaidbelievemadamit is customary to give some reward on theseoccasions;-I must insist on a very high one for my honesty;- it ismadamnoless than the honour of being permitted to pay another visithere."

 "Sir" replied the lady"I make no doubt that you areagentlemanand my doors are never shut to people of fashion."

 Jonesthen after proper ceremonialsdepartedhighly to his ownsatisfactionand no less to that of Sophia; who was terriblyalarmedlest Lady Bellaston should discover what she knew alreadybut toowell.

 Upon the stairs Jones met his old acquaintanceMrs. Honourwhonotwithstandingall she had said against himwas now so well bredto behavewith great civility. This meeting proved indeed a luckycircumstanceis he communicated to her the house where he lodgedwith whichSophia was unacquainted.

Chapter12
In whichthe thirteenth book is concluded

  Theelegant Lord Shaftesbury somewhere objects to telling too muchtruth: bywhich it may be fairly inferredthatin some casesto lieis notonly excusablebut commendable.

  Andsurely there are no persons who may so properly challenge aright tothis commendable deviation from truthas young women inthe affairof love; for which they may plead precepteducationandabove allthe sanctionnayI may say the necessity of custombywhich theyare restrainednot from submitting to the honestimpulsesof nature (for that would be a foolish prohibition)but fromowningthem.

  Weare notthereforeashamed to saythat our heroine nowpursuedthe dictates of the above-mentioned right honourablephilosopher.As she was perfectly satisfied thenthat LadyBellastonwas ignorant of the person of Jonesso she determined tokeep herin that ignorancethough at the expense of a little fibbing.

 Jones had not been long gonebefore Lady Bellaston cryed"Uptonmywordagood pretty young fellow; I wonder who he is; for I don'trememberever to have seen his face before."

 "Nor I neithermadam" cries Sophia. "I must say hebehaved veryhandsomelyin relation to my note."

 "Yes; and he is a very handsome fellow" said the lady:"don't youthink so?"

  "Idid not take much notice of him" answered Sophia"but Ithoughthe seemedrather awkwardand ungenteel than otherwise."

 "You are extremely right" cries Lady Bellaston: "youmay seebyhismannerthat he hath not kept good company. Naynotwithstandinghisreturning your noteand refusing the rewardI almost questionwhether heis a gentleman.-- I have always observed there is asomethingin persons well bornwhich others can never acquire.-- Ithink Iwill give orders not to be at home to him."

 "Naysuremadam" answered Sophia"one can'tsuspect after whathe hathdone;- besidesif your ladyship observed himthere was anelegancein his discoursea delicacya prettiness of expressionthatthat--"

  "Iconfess" said Lady Bellaston"the fellow hath words-- AndindeedSophiayou must forgive meindeed you must."

  "Iforgive your ladyship!" said Sophia.

 "Yesindeed you must" answered shelaughing; "for Ihad ahorriblesuspicion when I first came into the room-- I vow you mustforgiveit; but I suspected it was Mr. Jones himself."

 "Did your ladyshipindeed?" cries Sophiablushingandaffecting alaugh.

 "YesI vow I did" answered she. "I can't imaginewhat put itinto myhead: forgive the fellow his duehe was genteely drest;whichIthinkdear Sophyis not commonly the case with yourfriend."

 "This raillery" cries Sophia"is a little cruelLady Bellastonafter mypromise to your ladyship."

 "Not at allchild" said the lady;-

"It would havebeen cruelbefore;but after you have promised me never to marry your father'sconsentin which you know is implied your giving up Jonessure youcan bear alittle raillery on a passion which was pardonable enough ina younggirl in the countryand of which you tell me you have soentirelygot the better. What must I thinkmy dear Sophyif youcannotbear a little ridicule even on his dress? I shall begin to fearyou arevery far gone indeed; and almost question whether you havedealtingenuously with me."

 "Indeedmadam" cries Sophia"your ladyship mistakesmeif youimagine Ihad any concern on his account."

  "Onhis account!" answered the lady: "You must have mistakenme; Iwent nofarther than his dress;-- for I would not injure your taste byany othercomparison-- I don't imaginemy dear Sophyif your Mr.Jones hadbeen such a fellow as this-"

  "Ithought" says Sophia"your ladyship had allowed him to behandsome"--

 "Whompray?" cried the lady hastily.

 "Mr. Jones" answered Sophia;- and immediately recollectingherself"Mr. Jones!- nono; I ask your pardon;- I mean the gentlemanwho wasjust now here."

  "OSophy! Sophy!" cries the lady; "this Mr. JonesI amafraidstill runsin your head."

 "Thenupon my honourmadam" said Sophia"Mr. Jonesis asentirelyindifferent to meas the gentleman who just now left us."

 "Upon my honour" said Lady Bellaston"I believe it.Forgive methereforea little innocent raillery; but I promise you I willnevermention his name any more."

  Andnow the two ladies separatedinfinitely more to the delightof Sophiathan of Lady Bellastonwho would willingly have tormentedher rivala little longerhad not business of more importancecalled heraway. As for Sophiaher mind was not perfectly easyunder thisfirst practice of deceit; upon whichwhen she retired toherchambershe reflected with the highest uneasiness and consciousshame. Norcould the peculiar hardship of her situationand thenecessityof the caseat all reconcile her mind to her conduct; forthe frameof her mind was too delicate to bear the thought of havingbeenguilty of a falsehoodhowever qualified by circumstances. Nordid thisthought once suffer her to close her eyes during the wholesucceedingnight.

BOOK XIVCONTAININGTWO DAYS

Chapter1
An essayto prove that an author will write the better for havingsomeknowledge of the subject on which he writes

  Asseveral gentlemen in these timesby the wonderful force ofgeniusonlywithout the least assistance of learningperhaps withoutbeing wellable to readhave made a considerable figure in therepublicof letters; the modern criticsI am toldhave latelybegun toassertthat all kind of learning is entirely useless to awriter;andindeedno other than a kind of fetters on the naturalsprightlinessand activity of the imaginationwhich is thus weigheddownandprevented from soaring to those high flights which otherwiseit wouldbe able to reach.

 This doctrineI am afraidis at present carried much too far:for whyshould writing differ so much from all other arts? Thenimblenessof a dancing-master is not at all prejudiced by beingtaught tomove; nor doth any mechanicI believeexercise his toolsthe worseby having learnt to use them. For my own partI cannotconceivethat Homer or Virgil would have writ with more fireifinstead ofbeing masters of all the learning their timesthey hadbeen asignorant as most of the authors of the present age. Nor do Ibelievethat all the imaginationfireand judgment of Pittcouldhaveproduced those orations that have made the senate of Englandin theseour timesa rival in eloquence to Greece and Romeif he hadnot beenso well read in the writings of Demosthenes and Ciceroas tohavetransferred their whole spirit into his speechesandwith theirspirittheir knowledge too.

  Iwould not here be understood to insist on the same fund oflearningin any of my brethrenas Cicero persuades us is necessary tothecomposition of an orator. On the contraryvery little reading isIconceivenecessary to the poetless to the criticand the leastof all tothe politician. For the firstperhapsByshe's Art ofPoetryand a few of our modern poetsmay suffice; for the seconda moderateheap of plays; andfor the lastan indifferent collectionofpolitical journals.

  Tosay the truthI require no more than that a man should have somelittleknowledge of the subject on which he treatsaccording to theold maximof lawQuam quisque norit artem in ed se exerceat. Withthis alonea writer may sometimes do tolerably well; andindeedwithoutthisall the other learning in the world will stand him inlittlestead.

  Forinstancelet us suppose that Homer and VirgilAristotle andCiceroThucydides and Livycould have met all togetherand haveclubbedtheir several talents to have composed a treatise on the artofdancing: I believe it will be readily agreed they could not haveequalledthe excellent treatise which Mr. Essex hath given us onthatsubjectentitledThe Rudiments of Genteel Education. Andindeedshould the excellent Mr. Broughton be prevailed on to set fistto paperand to complete the above-said rudimentsby delivering downthe trueprinciples of athleticsI question whether the world willhave anycause to lamentthat none of the great writerseitherantient ormodernhave ever treated about that noble and useful art.

  Toavoid a multiplicity of examples in so plain a caseand tocome atonce to my pointI am apt to conceivethat one reason whymanyEnglish writers have totally failed in describing the mannersof upperlifemay possibly bethat in reality they know nothing ofit.

 This is a knowledge unhappily not in the power of many authors toarrive at.Books will give us a very imperfect idea of it; nor willthe stagea much better: the fine gentleman formed upon reading theformerwill almost always turn out a pedantand he who formshimselfupon the lattera coxcomb.

  Norare the characters drawn from these models better supported.Vanbrughand Congreve copied nature; but they who copy them draw asunlike thepresent age as Hogarth would do if he was to paint aroutor adrumin the dresses of Titian and of Vandyke. In shortimitationhere will not do the business. The picture must be afterNatureherself. A true knowledge of the world is gained only byconversationand the manners of every rank must be seen in order tobe known.

  Nowit happens that this higher order of mortals is not to beseenlikeall the rest of the human speciesfor nothingin thestreetsshopsand coffee-house; nor are they shownlike the upperrank ofanimalsfor so much a-piece. In shortthis is a sight towhich nopersons are admitted without one or other of thesequalificationsviz.either birth or fortuneorwhat isequivalentto boththe honourable profession of a gamester. Andveryunluckilyxfor the worldpersons so qualified very seldom careto takeupon themselves the bad trade of writing; which is generallyenteredupon by the lower and poorer sortas it is a trade which manythinkrequires no kind of stock to set up with.

 Hence those strange monsters in lace and embroideryin silks andbrocadeswith vast wigs and hoops; whichunder the name of lords andladiesstrut the stageto the great delight of attorneys and theirclerks inthe pitand of the citizens and their apprentices in thegalleries;and which are no more to be found in real lifethan thecentaurthe chimeraor any other creature of mere fiction. But tolet myreader into a secretthis knowledge of upper lifethough verynecessaryfor preventing mistakesis no very great resource to awriterwhose province is comedyor that kind of novelswhichlikethis I amwritingis of the comic class.

 What Mr. Pope says of women is very applicable to most in thisstationwho areindeedso entirely made up of form and affectationthat theyhave no character at allat leastnone which appears. Iwillventure to say the highest life is much the dullestandaffordsvery little humour or entertainment. The various callings inlowerspheres produce the great variety of humorous characters;whereashereexcept among the few who are engaged in the pursuit ofambitionand the fewer still who have a relish for pleasureall isvanity andservile imitation. Dressing and cardseating and drinkingbowing andcourtesyingmake up the business of their lives.

 Some there arehoweverof this rankupon whom passion exercisesitstryannyand hurries them far beyond the bounds which decorumprescribes;of thesethe ladies are as much distinguished by theirnobleintrepidityand a certain superior contempt of reputationfromthe frailones of meaner degreeas a virtuous woman of quality isby theelegance and delicacy of her sentiments from the honest wife ofa yeomanor shopkeeper. Lady Bellaston was of this intrepid character;but letnot my country readers conclude from herthat this is thegeneralconduct of women of fashionor that we mean to represent themas such.They might as well suppose that every clergyman wasrepresentedby Thwackumor every soldier by ensign Northerton.

 There is notindeeda greater error than that which universallyprevailsamong the vulgarwhoborrowing their opinion from someignorantsatiristshave affixed the character of lewdness to thesetimes. Onthe contraryI am convinced there never was less of loveintriguecarried on among persons of conditionthan now. Ourpresentwomen have been taught by their mothers to fix theirthoughtsonly on ambition and vanityand to despise the pleasuresof love asunworthy their regard; and being afterwardsby the care ofsuchmothersmarried without having husbandsthey seem pretty wellconfirmedin the justness of those sentiments; whence they contentthemselvesfor the dull remainder of lifewith the pursuit of moreinnocentbut I am afraid more childish amusementsthe bare mentionof whichwould ill suit with the dignity of this history. In my humbleopinionthe true characteristic of the present beau monde is ratherfolly thanviceand the only epithet which it deserves is that offrivolous.

Chapter2
Containingletters and other matters which attend amours

 Jones had not been long at homebefore he received the followingletter:-

  Iwas never more surprized than when I found you was gone. Whenyou leftthe roomI little imagined you intended to have left thehousewithout seeing me again. Your behaviour is all of a pieceandconvincesme how much I ought to despise a heart which can doat uponan idiot;though I know not whether I should not admire her cunningmore thanher simplicity: wonderful both! For though she understoodnot a wordof what passed between usyet she had the skilltheassurancethe-- what shall I call it? to deny to my face that sheknows youor ever saw you before.-- Was this a scheme laid betweenyouandhave you been base enough to betray me?-- O how I despiseheryouand all the worldbut chiefly myself! for-- I dare notwrite whatI should afterwards run mad to read; but rememberI candetest asviolently as I have loved.

 Jones had but little time given him to reflect on this letterbefore asecond was brought him from the same hand; and thislikewisewe shall set down in the precise words.

 When you consider the hurry of spirits in which I must have writyou cannotbe surprized at any expressions in my former note.- Yetperhapson reflectionthey were rather too warm. At least I wouldifpossiblethink all owing to the odious playhouseand to theimpertinenceof a foolwhich detained me beyond my appointment.-- Howeasy is itto think in k well of those we love!-- Perhaps you desire Ishouldthink so. I have resolved to see you to-night; so come to meimmediately.

 P.S.- I have ordered to be at home to none but yourself.

 P.S.- Mr. Jones will imagine I shall assist him in his defence; forI believehe cannot desire to impose on me more than I desire toimpose onmyself.

 P.S.- Come immediately.

  Tothe men of intrigue I refer the determinationwhether theangry orthe tender letter gave the greatest uneasiness to Jones.Certain itishe had no violent inclination to pay any more visitsthateveningunless to one single person. Howeverhe thought hishonourengagedand had not this been motive sufficienthe wouldnot haveventured to blow the temper of Lady Bellaston into that flameof whichhe had reason to think it susceptibleand of which he fearedtheconsequence might be a discovery to Sophiawhich he dreaded.After somediscontented walksthereforeabout the roomhe waspreparingto departwhen the lady kindly prevented himnot byanotherletterbut by her own presence. She entered the room verydisorderedin her dressand very discomposed in her looksandthrewherself into a chairwherehaving recovered her breathshesaid

"Youseesirwhen women have gone one length too fartheywill stopat none. If any person would have sworn this to me a weekagoIwould not have believed it of myself."

"I hopemadam"saidJones"mycharming Lady Bellaston will be as difficult to believeanythingagainst one who is so sensible of the many obligations shehathconferred upon him."

"Indeed!" says she"sensibleofobligations!Did I expect to hear such cold language from Mr.Jones?"

"Pardon memy dear angel" said he"ifafter thelettersI havereceivedthe terrors of your angerthough I know not how Ihavedeserved it"-

"And have I then" says shewith asmile"soangry acountenance?- Have I really brought a chiding face with me?"

"Ifthere be honour in man" said he"I have done nothing tomerityouranger.- You remember the appointment you sent me; I went inpursuance"

"I beseech you" cried she"do not run through theodiousrecital.- Answer me but one questionand I shall be easy.Have younot betrayed my honour to her?"- Jones fell upon his kneesand beganto utter the most violent protestationswhen Partridge camedancingand capering into the roomlike one drunk with joycryingout"She's found! she's found!- Heresirhereshe's here- Mrs.Honour isupon the stairs."

"Stop her a moment" cries Jones

"Heremadamstep behind the bedI have no other room nor closetnor placeon earthto hide you in; sure never so damned an accident."

"D--n'dindeed!"said the ladyas she went to her place of concealment; andpresentlyafterwards in came Mrs. Honour. "Hey-day!" says she"Mr.Joneswhat's the matter?- That impudent rascal your servant wouldscarce letme come upstairs. I hope he hath not the same reason tokeep mefrom you as he had at Upton.- I suppose you hardly expectedto see me;but you have certainly bewitched my lady. Poor dear younglady! Tobe sureI loves her as tenderly as if she was my own sister.Lord havemercy upon youif you don't make her a good husband! and tobe sureif you do notnothing can be bad enough for you." Jonesbegged heronly to whisperfor that there was a lady dying in thenext room."A lady!" cries she; ayI suppose one of your ladies.- OMr. Jonesthere are too many of them in the world; I believe we aregot intothe house of onefor my Lady BellastonI darst to sayisno betterthan she should be."

"Hush! hush!" cries Joneseverywordisoverheard in the next room."

"I don't care a farthing"criesHonour"Ispeaks no scandal of any one; but to be sure the servantsmake noscruple of saying as how her ladyship meets men at anotherplace-where the house goes under the name of a poor gentlewoman; butherladyship pays the rentand many's the good thing besidestheysayshehath of her."- Here Jonesafter expressing the utmostuneasinessoffered to stop her mouth:

"Hey-day! why sureMr.Jonesyouwill let me speak; I speaks no scandalfor I only sayswhat Iheard from others- and thinks I to myselfmuch good may it dothegentlewoman with her richesif she comes by it in such a wickedmanner. Tobe sure it is better to be poor and honest."

"Theservantsare villains" cries Jones"and abuse their ladyunjustly."

"Ayto be sureservants are always villainsand so mylady saysand won't hear a word of it."

"NoI am convinced"saysJones"mySophia is above listening to such base scandal."

"NayIbelieve itis no scandalneither" cries Honour"for why shouldshe meetmen at another house?- It can never be for any good: for ifshe had alawful design of being courtedas to be sure any lady maylawfullygive her company to men upon that account: whywhere canbe thesense?"

"I protest" cries Jones"I can't hearall this of alady ofsuch honourand a relation of Sophia; besidesyou willdistractthe poor lady in the next room.- Let me entreat you to walkwith medown stairs."

"Naysirif you won't let me speakI havedone.-Heresiris a letter from my young lady- what would some mengive tohave this? ButMr. JonesI think you are not over andabovegenerousand yet I have heard some servants say-- but I am sureyou willdo me the justice to own I never saw the colour of yourmoney."Here Jones hastily took the letterand presently afterslippedfive pieces into her hand. He then returned a thousandthanks tohis dear Sophia in a whisperand begged her to leave him toread herletter: she presently departednot without expressing muchgratefulsense of his generosity.

 Lady Bellaston now came from behind the curtain. How shall Idescribeher rage? Her tongue was at first incapable of utterance; butstreams offire darted from her eyesand well indeed they mightfor herheart was all in a flame. And nowas soon as her voicefound wayinstead of expressing any indignation against Honour or herownservantsshe began to attack poor Jones. "You see" saidshe"whatI have sacrificed to you; my reputationmy honour- gone forever! Andwhat return have I found? Neglectedslighted for acountrygirlfor an idiot."

"What neglectmadamor whatslight"criesJones"have I been guilty of?"

"Mr. Jones"said she"it isin vain todissemble; if you will make me easyyou must entirely giveher up;and as a proof of your intentionshow me the letter."

"Whatlettermadam?" said Jones. "Naysurely" said she"youcannothave theconfidence to deny your having received a letter by the handsof thattrollop."-"And can your ladyship" cries he"askof me what Imust partwith my honour before I grant? Have I acted in such a mannerby yourladyship? Could I be guilty of betraying this poor innocentgirl toyouwhat security could you have that I should not act thesame partby yourself? A moment's reflection willI am sureconvinceyouthata man with whom the secrets of a lady are not safe must bethe mostcontemptible of wretches."-"Very well" said she

"Ineednot insiston your becoming this contemptible wretch in your ownopinion;for the inside of the letter could inform me of nothingmore thanI know already. I see the footing you are upon."- Hereensued along conversationwhich the readerwho is not too curiouswill thankme for not inserting at length. It shall sufficethereforeto inform himthat Lady Bellaston grew more and morepacifiedand at length believedor affected to believehisprotestationsthat his meeting with Sophia that evening was merelyaccidentaland every other matter which the reader already knowsandwhich asJones set before her in the strongest lightit is plain thatshe had inreality no reason to be angry with him.

  Shewas nothoweverin her heart perfectly satisfied with hisrefusal toshow her the letter; so deaf are we to the clearest reasonwhen itargues against our prevailing passions. She wasindeedwellconvinced that Sophia possessed the first place in Jones'saffections;and yethaughty and amorous as this lady wasshesubmittedat last to bear the second place; orto express it moreproperlyin a legal phrasewas contented with the possession ofthat ofwhich another woman had the reversion.

  Itwas at length agreed that Jones should for the future visit atthe house:for that Sophiaher maidand all the servantswouldplacethese visits to the account of Sophia; and that she herselfwould beconsidered as the person imposed upon.

 This scheme was contrived by the ladyand highly relished by Joneswho wasindeed glad to have a prospect of seeing his Sophia at anyrate; andthe lady herself was not a little pleased with theimpositionon Sophiawhich Jonesshe thoughtcould not possiblydiscoverto her for his own sake.

  Thenext day was appointed for the first visitand thenafterproperceremonialsthe Lady Bellaston returned home.

Chapter3
Containingvarious matters

 Jones was no sooner alonethan he eagerly broke open his letterand readas follows:-

 Sirit is impossible to express what I have suffered since you leftthishouse; and as I have reason to think you intend coming hereagainIhave sent Honourthough so late at nightas she tells meshe knowsyour lodgingsto prevent you. I charge youby all theregard youhave for menot to think of visiting here; for it willcertainlybe discovered; nayI almost doubtfrom some things whichhave droptfrom her ladyshipthat she is not already without somesuspicion.Something favourableperhapsmay happen; we must waitwithpatience; but I once more entreat youif you have any concernfor myeasedo not think of returning hither.

 This letter administered the same kind of consolation to poor Joneswhich jobformerly received from his friends. Besides disappointingall thehopes which he promised to himself from seeing Sophiahewasreduced to an unhappy dilemmawith regard to Lady Bellaston;for thereare some certain engagementswhichas he well knewdoverydifficultly admit of any excuse for the failure; and to goafterthe strictprohibition from Sophiahe was not to be forced by anyhumanpower. At lengthafter much deliberationwhich during thatnightsupplied the place of sleephe determined to feign himselfsick: forthis suggested itself as the only means of failing theappointedvisitwithout incensing Lady Bellastonwhich he had morethan onereason of desiring to avoid.

  Thefirst thinghoweverwhich he did in the morningwasto writean answerto Sophiawhich he inclosed in one to Honour. He thendespatchedanother to Lady Bellastoncontaining the above-mentionedexcuse;and to this he soon received the following answer:-

  Iam vexed that I cannot see you here this afternoonbut moreconcernedfor the occasion; take great care of yourselfand havethe bestadviceand I hope there will be no danger.- I am sotormentedall this morning with that I have scarce a moment's time towrite toyou. Adieu.

 P.S.- I will endeavour to call on you this eveningat nine.- Besure to bealone.

  Mr.Jones now received a visit from Mrs. Millerwhoafter someformalintroductionbegan the following speech:

"I am very sorrysirtowait upon you on such an occasion; but I hope you willconsiderthe ill consequence which it must be to the reputation ofmy poorgirlsif my house should once be talked of as a house ofill-fame.I hope you won't think methereforeguilty ofimpertinenceif I beg you not to bring any more ladies in at thattime ofnight. The clock had struck two before one of them wentaway."

"I do assure youmadam" said Jones"the lady whowas herelastnightand who staid the latest (for the other only brought me aletter)is a woman of very great fashionand my near relation."

"Idon't knowwhat fashion she is of" answered Mrs. Miller; "but I amsure nowoman of virtueunless a very near relation indeedwouldvisit ayoung gentleman at ten at nightand stay four hours in hisroom withhim alone; besidessirthe behaviour of her chairmen showswhat shewas; for they did nothing but make jests all the evening inthe entryand asked Mr. Partridgein the hearing of my own maidifmadamintended to stay with his master all night; with a great deal ofstuff notproper to be repeated. I have really a great respect foryouMr.Jonesupon your own account; nayI have a very highobligationto you for your generosity to my cousin. IndeedI did notknow howvery good you had been till lately. Little did I imagine towhatdreadful courses the poor man's distress had driven him. Littledid Ithinkwhen you gave me the ten guineasthat you had given themto ahighwayman! O heavens! what goodness have you shown! How have youpreservedthis family!- The character which Mr. Allworthy hathformerlygiven me of you wasI findstrictly true.- And indeedif Ihad noobligation to youmy obligations to him are suchthaton hisaccountIshould show you the utmost respect in my power.- Naybelievemedear Mr. Jonesif my daughters' and my own reputationwere outof the caseI shouldfor your own sakebe sorry that sopretty ayoung gentleman should converse with these women; but ifyou areresolved to do itI must beg you to take another lodging; forI do notmyself like to have such things carried on under my roof; butmoreespecially upon the account of my girlswho have littleheavenknowsbesides their charactersto recommend them." Jonesstartedand changed colour at the name of Allworthy. "IndeedMrs.Miller"answered hea little warmly"I do not take this at allkind. Iwill never bring any slander on your house; but I mustinsist onseeing what company I please in my own room; and if thatgives youany offenceI shallas soon as I am ablelook for anotherlodging."

"I am sorry we must part thensir" said she; "but IamconvincedMr. Allworthy himself would never come within my doorsifhe had theleast suspicion of my keeping an ill house."

"Very wellmadam"said Jones.

"I hopesir" said she"you are notangry; forI wouldnot for the world offend any of Mr. Allworthy's family. I havenot slepta wink all night about this matter."

"I am sorry I havedisturbedyour restmadam" said Jones"but I beg you will sendPartridgeup to me immediately"; which she promised to doand thenwith avery low courtesy retired.

  Assoon as Partridge arrivedJones fell upon him in the mostoutrageousmanner. "How often" said he"am I to suffer for yourfollyorrather for my own in keeping you? is that tongue of yoursresolvedupon my destruction?"

"What have I donesir?"answeredaffrightedPartridge. "Who was it gave you authority to mention thestory ofthe robberyor that the man you saw here was the person?"

"Isir?" cries Partridge. "Now don't be guilty of a falsehoodindenyingit" said Jones. "If I did mention such a matter"answersPartridge"I am sure I thought no harm; for I should not haveopened mylipsif it had not been to his own friends and relationswhoIimaginedwould have let it go no farther."

"But I have amuchheavier charge against you" cries Jones"than this. Howdurstyouafterall the precautions I gave youmention the name of Mr.Allworthyin this house?" Partridge denied that he ever hadwith manyoaths."How else" said Jones"should Mrs. Miller beacquaintedthat therewas any connexion between him and me? And it is but thismoment shetold me she respected me on his account."

"O Lordsir"saidPartridge"I desire only to be heard out; and to be surenever wasanything so unfortunate: hear me but outand you will ownhow wrong.fully you have accused me. When Mrs. Honour came downstairslastnightshe met me in the entryand asked me when my master hadheard fromMr. Allworthy; and to be sure Mrs. Miller heard the verywords; andthe moment Madam Honour was goneshe called me into theparlour toher. 'Mr. Partridge' says she'what Mr. Allworthy is itthat thegentlewoman mentioned? is it the great Mr. Allworthy ofSomersetshire?''Upon my wordmadam' says I'I know nothing ofthematter.' 'Sure' says she'your master is not the Mr. Jones Ihave heardMr. Allworthy talk of?' 'Upon my wordmadam' says I'Iknownothing of the matter.' 'Then' says sheturning to her daughterNancysays she'as sure as tenpence this is the very younggentlemanand he agrees exactly with the squire's description.' TheLord aboveknows who it was told her: for I am the arrantest villainthat everwalked upon two legs if ever it came out of my mouth. IpromiseyousirI can keep a secret when I am desired. Naysirso far wasI from telling her anything about Mr. Allworthythat Itold herthe very direct contrary; forthough I did not contradict itat thatmomentyetas second thoughtsthey sayare bestso when Icame toconsider that somebody must have informed herthinks I tomyselfIwill put an end to the story; and so I went back againinto theparlour some time afterwardsand says Iupon my wordsays Iwhoeversays Itold you that this gentleman was Mr. Jones;that issays Ithat this Mr. Jones was that Mr. Jonestold you aconfoundedlie: and I begsays Iyou will never mention any suchmattersays I; for my mastersays Iwill think I must have told youso; and Idefy anybody in the house ever to say I mentioned any suchword. Tobe certainsirit is a wonderful thingand I have beenthinkingwith myself ever sincehow it was she came to know it; notbut I sawan old woman here t'other day a begging at the doorwholooked aslike her we saw in Warwickshirethat caused all thatmischiefto us. To be sure it is never good to pass by an old womanwithoutgiving her somethingespecially if she looks at you; forall theworld shall never persuade me but that they have a great powerto domischiefand to be sure I shall never see an old woman againbut Ishall think to myselfInfandumreginajubes renovaredolorem."

  Thesimplicity of Partridge set Jones a laughingand put a finalend to hisangerwhich had indeed seldom any long duration in hismind; andinstead of commenting on his defencehe told him heintendedpresently to leave those lodgingsand ordered him to goandendeavour to get him others.

Chapter4
Which wehope will be very attentively perused by young people ofboth sexes

 Partridge had no sooner left Mr. Jonesthan Mr. Nightingalewithwhom hehad now contracted a great intimacycame to himandafter ashortsalutationsaid"SoTomI hear you had company very latelastnight. Upon my soul you are a happy fellowwho have not beenin townabove a fortnightand can keep chairs waiting at your doortill twoin the morning." He then ran on with much commonplacerailleryof the same kindtill Jones at last interrupted himsaying"Isuppose you have received all this information from Mrs. Millerwho hathbeen up here a little while ago to give me warning. Thegood womanis afraidit seemsof the reputation of her daughters."

"Oh!she is wonderfully nice" says Nightingale"upon thataccount;if youremembershe would not let Nancy go with us to themasquerade."

"Nayupon my honourI think she's in the right ofit"says Jones: "howeverI have taken her at her wordand havesentPartridgeto look for another lodging."

"If you will" saysNightingale"we mayI believebe again together; forto tell you asecretwhich I desire you won't mention in the familyI intend toquit thehouse to-day."

"Whathath Mrs. Miller given you warningtoomyfriend?" cries Jones. "No" answered the other; "butthe roomsare notconvenient enough. BesidesI am grown weary of this part ofthe town.I want to be nearer the places of diversion; so I am goingtoPall-mall."

"And do you intend to make a secret of yourgoingaway?"said Jones. "I promise you" answered Nightingale"Idon'tintend tobilk my lodgings; but I have a private reason for not takinga formalleave."

"Not so private" answered Jones; "Ipromise youIhave seenit ever since the second day of my coming to the house. Herewill besome wet eyes on your departure. Poor NancyI pity herfaith!IndeedJackyou have played the fool with that girl. You havegiven hera longingwhich I am afraid nothing will ever cure her of."Nightingaleanswered"What the devil would you have me do? wouldyou haveme marry her to cure her?"

"No" answered Jones"Iwould nothave hadyou make love to heras you have often done in mypresence.I have been astonished at the blindness of her mother inneverseeing it."

"Pughsee it!" cries Nightingale. "Whatthe devilshould shesee?"

"Whysee" said Jones"that you have madeherdaughterdistractedly in love with you. The poor girl cannot concealit amoment; her eyes are never off from youand she always coloursevery timeyou come into the room. IndeedI pity her heartily; forshe seemsto be one of the best-natured and honestest of humancreatures."

"And so" answered Nightingale"according to yourdoctrineone must not amuse oneself by any common gallantries withwomenforfear they should fall in love with us."

"IndeedJack"saidJones"you wilfully misunderstand me; I do not fancy women areso apt tofall in love; but you have gone far beyond commongallantries."

"Whatdo you suppose" says Nightingale"that wehave beena-bed together?"

"Noupon my honouranswered Jonesveryseriously"I do not suppose so ill of you; nayI will go fartherI do notimagine you have laid a regular premeditated scheme for thedestructionof the quiet of a poor little creatureor have evenforeseenthe consequence: for I am sure thou are a very good-naturedfellowand such a one can never be guilty of a cruelty of thatkind; butat the same time you have pleased your own vanitywithoutconsideringthat this poor girl was made a sacrifice to it; andwhile youhave had no design but of amusing an idle houryou haveactuallygiven her reason to flatter herself that you had the mostseriousdesigns in her favour. PritheeJackanswer me honestly; towhat havetended all those elegant and luscious descriptions ofhappinessarising from violent and mutual fondness? all those warmprofessionsof tendernessand generous disinterested love? Did youimagineshe would not apply them? orspeak ingenuouslydid not youintend sheshould?"

"Upon my soulTom" cries Nightingale"Idid notthink thiswas in thee. Thou wilt make an admirable parson. So Isupposeyou would not go to bed to Nancy nowif she would let you?"

"No"cries Jones"may I be d--n'd if I would."

"TomTom"answeredNightingale"last night; remember last night--

    When every eye was closedand the pale moon
    And silent starsshone conscious of the theft."

 "LookeeMr. Nightingale" said Jones"I am nocanting hypocritenor do Ipretend to the gift of chastitymore than my neighbours. Ihave beenguilty with womenI own it; but am not conscious that Ihave everinjured any.- Nor would Ito procure pleasure to myselfbeknowingly the cause of misery to any human being."

 "Wellwell" said Nightingale"I believe youand Iam convincedyou acquitme of any such thing."

  "Idofrom my heart" answered Jones"of having debauchedthegirlbutnot from having gained her affections."

  "IfI have" said Nightingale"I am sorry for it; but time andabsencewill soon wear off such impressions. It is a receipt I musttakemyself; forto confess the truth to you- I never liked any girlhalf somuch in my whole life; but I must let you into the wholesecretTom. My father hath provided a match for me with a woman Inever saw;and she is now coming to townin order for me to make myaddressesto her."

  Atthese words Jones burst into a loud fit of laughter; whenNightingalecried

"Naypritheedon't turn me into ridicule. Thedevil takeme if I am not half mad about this matter! my poor Nancy!Oh! JonesJonesI wish I had a fortune in my own possession."

  "Iheartily wish you had" cries Jones; "forif this be thecaseIsincerelypity you both; but surely you don't intend to go awaywithouttaking your leave of her?"

  "Iwould not" answered Nightingale"undergo the pain oftakingleaveforten thousand pounds; besidesI am convincedinstead ofansweringany good purposeit would only serve to inflame my poorNancy themore. I begthereforeyou would not mention a word of itto-dayand in the eveningor to-morrow morningI intend to depart."

 Jones promised he would not; and saidupon reflectionhethoughtas he had determined and was obliged to leave herhe tookthe mostprudent method. He then told Nightingale he should be veryglad tolodge in the same house with him; and it was accordinglyagreedbetween themthat Nightingale should procure him either thegroundflooror the two pair of stairs; for the young gentlemanhimselfwas to occupy that which was between them.

 This Nightingaleof whomwe shall be presently obliged to say alittlemorewas in the ordinary transactions of life a man ofstricthonourandwhat is more rare among young gentlemen of thetownoneof strict honesty too; yet in affairs of love he wassomewhatloose in his morals; not that he was even here as void ofprincipleas gentlemen sometimes areand oftener affect to be; but itis certainhe had been guilty of some indefensible treachery to womenand hadin a certain mysterycalled making lovepractised manydeceitswhichif he had used in tradehe would have been countedthegreatest villain upon earth.

  Butas the worldI know not well for what reasonagree to see thistreacheryin a better lighthe was so far from being ashamed of hisiniquitiesof this kindthat he gloried in themand would oftenboast ofhis skill in gaining of womenand his triumphs over theirheartsfor which he had before this time received some rebukes fromJoneswhoalways exprest great bitterness against any misbehaviour tothe fairpart of the specieswhoif consideredhe saidas theyought tobein the light of the dearest friendswere to becultivatedhonouredand caressed with the utmost love andtenderness;butif regarded as enemieswere a conquest of which aman oughtrather to be ashamed than to value himself upon it.

Chapter5
A shortaccount of the history of Mrs. Miller

 Jones this day eat a pretty good dinner for a sick manthat is tosaythelarger half of a shoulder of mutton. In the afternoonhereceivedan invitation from Mrs. Miller to drink tea; for that goodwomanhaving learnteither by means of Partridgeor by some othermeansnatural or supernaturalthat he had a connexion with Mr.Allworthycould not endure the thoughts of parting with him in anangrymanner.

 Jones accepted the invitation; and no sooner was the teakettleremovedand the girls sent out of the roomthan the widowwithoutmuchprefacebegan as follows: "Wellthere are very surprizingthingshappen in this world; but certainly it is a wonderfulbusinessthat I should have a relation of Mr. Allworthy in my houseand neverknow anything of the matter. Alas! siryou little imaginewhat afriend that best of gentlemen hath been to me and mine. YessirI amnot ashamed to own it; it is owing to his goodness that Idid notlong since perish for wantand leave my poor little wretchestwodestitutehelplessfriendless orphansto the careor rather tothecrueltyof the world.

 "You must knowsirthough I am now reduced to get my living bylettinglodgingsI was born and bred a gentlewoman. My father wasan officerof the armyand died in a considerable rank: but helived upto his pay; andas that expired with himhis familyat hisdeathbecame beggars. We were three sisters. One of us had the goodluck todie soon after of the small-pox; a lady was so kind as to takethe secondout of charityas she saidto wait upon her. The motherof thislady had been a servant to my grandmother; andhavinginheriteda vast fortune from her fatherwhich he had got bypawnbrokingwas married to a gentleman of great estate and fashion.She usedmy sister so barbarouslyoften upbraiding her with her birthandpovertycalling her in derision a gentlewomanthat I believe sheat lengthbroke the heart of the poor girl. In shortshe likewisediedwithin a twelvemonth after my father. Fortune thought proper toprovidebetter for meand within a month from his decease I wasmarried toa clergymanwho had been my lover a long time beforeand whohad been very ill used by my father on that account: forthough mypoor father could not give any of us a shillingyet he bredus up asdelicatelyconsidered usand would have had us considerourselvesas highly as if we had been the richest heiresses. But mydearhusband forgot all this usageand the moment we were becomefatherlesshe immediately renewed his addresses to me so warmlythatIwhoalways likedand now more than ever esteemed himsooncomplied.Five years did I live in a state of perfect happiness withthat bestof mentill at last- Oh! cruel! cruel fortunethat everseparatedusthat deprived me of the kindest of husbands and mypoor girlsof the tenderest parent.- O my poor girls! you never knowtheblessing which ye lost.-I am ashamedMr. Jonesof thiswomanishweakness; but I shall never mention him without tears."

"Ioughtrathermadam" said Jones"to be ashamed that I do notaccompanyyou."

"Wellsir" continued she"I was now lefta secondtime in amuch worse condition than before; besides the terribleafflictionI was to encounterI had now two children to providefor; andwasif possiblemore pennyless than ever; when thatgreatthat goodthat glorious manMr. Allworthywho had somelittleacquaintance with my husbandaccidentally heard of mydistressand immediately writ this letter to me. Heresirhere itis; I putit into my pocket to shew it you. This is the lettersir; Imust andwill read it to you.

 "MADAM

  "Iheartily condole with you on your late grievous losswhichyour owngood senseand the excellent lessons you must have learntfrom theworthiest of menwill better enable you to bear than anyadvicewhich I am capable of giving. Nor have I any doubt that youwhom Ihave heard to be the tenderest of motherswill suffer anyimmoderateindulgence of grief to prevent you from discharging yourduty tothose poor infantswho now alone stand in need of yourtenderness.

 "Howeveras you must be supposed at present to be incapable ofmuchworldlyconsiderationyou will pardon my having ordered a person towait onyouand to pay you twenty guineaswhich I beg you willaccepttill I have the pleasure of seeing youand believe me to bemadam&c.

 "This lettersirI received within a fortnight after theirreparableloss I have mentioned; and within a fortnightafterwardsMr. Allworthy- the blessed Mr. Allworthy- came to pay me avisitwhen he placed me in the house where you now see megave mea largesum of money to furnish itand settled an annuity of L50a-yearupon mewhich I have constantly received ever since. judgethenMr.Jonesin what regard I must hold a benefactorto whom Iowe thepreservation of my lifeand of those dear childrenfor whosesake alonemy life is valuable. Do notthereforethink meimpertinentMr. Jones (since I must esteem one for whom I know Mr.Allworthyhath so much value)if I beg you not to converse with thesewickedwomen. You are a young gentlemanand do not know half theirartfulwiles. Do not be angry with mesirfor what I said uponaccount ofmy house; you must be sensible it would be the ruin of mypoor deargirls. Besidessiryou cannot but be acquaintedthatMr.Allworthy himself would never forgive my conniving at suchmattersand particularly with you."

 "Upon my wordmadam" said Jones"you need make nofartherapology;nor do I in the least take anything ill you have said; butgive meleaveas no one can have more value than myself for Mr.Allworthyto deliver you from one mistakewhichperhapswouldnot bealtogether for his honour; I do assure youI am no relation ofhis."

 "Alas! sir" answered she"I know you are notI knowvery well whoyou are;for Mr. Allworthy hath told me all; but I do assure youhad youbeen twenty times his sonhe could not have expressed moreregard foryou than he hath often expressed in my presence. You neednot beashamedsirof what you are; I promise you no good personwillesteem you the less on that account. NoMr. Jonesthe words'dishonourablebirth' are nonsenseas my deardear husband used tosayunless the word 'dishonourable' be applied to the parents; forthechildren can derive no real dishonour from an act of which theyareintirely innocent."

 Here Jones heaved a deep sighand then said"Since I perceivemadamyoureally do know meand Mr. Allworthy hath thought proper tomention myname to you; and since you have been so explicit with me asto yourown affairsI will acquaint you with some morecircumstancesconcerning myself." And these Mrs. Miller havingexpressedgreat desire and curiosity to hearhe began and relatedto her hiswhole historywithout once mentioning the name of Sophia.

 There a kind of sympathy in honest mindsby means of which theygive aneasy credit to each other. Mrs. Miller believed all whichJones toldher to be trueand exprest much pity and concern forhim. Shewas beginning to comment on the storybut Jonesinterruptedher; foras the hour of assignation now drew nighhebegan tostipulate for a second interview with the lady thateveningwhich he promised should be the last at her house;swearingat the same timethat she was one of great distinctionandthatnothing but what was intirely innocent was to pass betweenthem; andI do firmly believe he intended to keep his word.

 Mrs. Miller was at length prevailed onand Jones departed to hischamberwhere he sat alone till twelve o'clockbut no Lady Bellastonappeared.

  Aswe have said that this lady had a great affection for Jonesand as itmust have appeared that she really had sothe reader mayperhapswonder at the first failure of her appointmentas sheapprehendedhim to be confined by sicknessa season when friendshipseems mostto require such visits. This behaviourthereforein theladymayby somebe condemned as unnatural; but that is not ourfault; forour business is only to record truth.

Chapter6
Containinga scene which we doubt not will affect all our readers

  Mr.Jones closed not his eyes during all the former part of thenight; notowing to any uneasiness which he conceived at beingdisappointedby Lady Bellaston; nor was Sophia herselfthough most ofhis wakinghours were justly to be charged to her accountthe presentcause ofdispelling his slumbers. In factpoor Jones was one of thebest-naturedfellows aliveand had all that weakness which iscalledcompassionand which distinguishes this imperfect characterfrom thatnoble firmness of mindwhich rolls a manas it werewithinhimselfand like a polished bowlenables him to run throughthe worldwithout being once stopped by the calamities which happen toothers. Hecould not helpthereforecompassionating the situation ofpoorNancywhose love for Mr. Nightingale seemed to him soapparentthat he was astonished at the blindness of her motherwhohad morethan oncethe preceding eveningremarked to him the greatchange inthe temper of her daughter"who from being" she said"oneof theliveliestmerriest girls in the worldwason a suddenbecome allgloom and melancholy."

 Sleephoweverat length got the better of all resistance; andnow as ifhe had already been a deityas the antients imaginedandanoffended one toohe seemed to enjoy his dear-bought conquest.- Tospeaksimplyand without any metaphorMr. Jones slept till eleventhe nextmorningand wouldperhapshave continued in the same quietsituationmuch longerhad not a violent uproar awakened him.

 Partridge was now summonedwhobeing asked what was the matteranswered"That there was a dreadful hurricane below-stairs; that MissNancy wasin fits; and that the other sisterand the motherwerebothcrying and lamenting over her." Jones expressed much concern atthis news;which Partridge endeavoured to relieveby sayingwith asmile"Hefancied the young lady was in no danger of death; forthatSusan" (which was the name of the maid) "had given him tounderstandit was nothing more than a common affair. In short"said he"Miss Nancy hath had a mind to be as wise as her mother;that'sall; she was a little hungryit seemsand so sat down todinnerbefore grace was said; and so there is a child coming for theFoundlingHospital."-

"Pritheeleave thy stupid jesting"criesJones. "Isthe misery of these poor wretches a subject of mirth? Goimmediatelyto Mrs. Millerand tell her I beg leave- Stayyou willmake someblunder; I will go myself; for she desired me to breakfastwith her."He then rose and dressed himself as fast as he could; andwhile hewas dressingPartridgenotwithstanding many severe rebukescould notavoid throwing forth certain pieces of brutalitycommonlycalledjestson this occasion. Jones was no sooner dressed than hewalkeddownstairsand knocking at the doorwas presently admitted bythe maidinto the outward parlourwhich was as empty of company asit was ofany apparatus for eating. Mrs. Miller was in the innerroom withher daughterwhence the maid presently brought a message toMr. Jones"That her mistress hoped he would excuse thedisappointmentbut an accident had happenedwhich made it impossiblefor her tohave the pleasure of his company at breakfast that day; andbegged hispardon for not sending him up notice sooner." Jonesdesired"She would give herself no trouble about anything so triflingas hisdisappointment; that he was heartily sorry for the occasion;and thatif he could be of any service to hershe might command him."

  Hehad scarce spoke these wordswhen Mrs. Millerwho heard themallsuddenly threw open the doorand coming out to himin a floodof tearssaid"O Mr. Jones! you are certainly one of the bestyoung menalive. I give you a thousand thanks for your kind offer ofyourservice; butalas! sirit is out of your power to preserve mypoorgirl.-O my child! my child! she is undoneshe is ruinedforever!"

"I hopemadam" said Jones"no villain"-

"OMr. Jones!"said she"that villain who yesterday left my lodgingshathbetrayedmy poor girl; hath destroyed her.- I know you are a man ofhonour.You have a good-a noble heartMr. Jones. The actions to whichI havebeen myself a witnesscould proceed from no other. I will tellyou all:nayindeedit is impossibleafter what hath happenedtokeep it asecret. That Nightingalethat barbarous villainhathundone mydaughter. She is- she is is- oh! Mr. Jonesmy girl is withchild byhim; and in that condition he hath deserted her. Here!heresiris his cruel letter: read itMr. Jonesand tell me ifsuchanother monster lives."

  Theletter was as follows:

 DEAR NANCY

  AsI found it impossible to mention to you whatI am afraidwillbe no lessshocking to youthan it is to meI have taken this methodto informyouthat my father insists upon my immediately paying myaddressesto a young lady of fortunewhom he hath provided for my-Ineed notwrite the detested word. Your own good understanding willmake yousensiblehow intirely I am obliged to an obedienceby whichI shall beforever excluded from your dear arms. The fondness ofyourmother may encourage you to trust her with the unhappyconsequenceof our lovewhich may be easily kept a secret from theworldandfor which I will take care to provideas I will for you. Iwish youmay feel less on this account than I nave suffered; butsummon allyour fortitude to your assistanceand forgive and forgetthe manwhom nothing but the prospect of certain ruin could haveforced towrite this letter. I bid you forget meI mean only as alover; butthe best of friends you shall ever find in your faithfulthoughunhappy

                                                 J. N.

 When Jones had read this letterthey both stood silent during aminutelooking at each other; at last he began thus: "I cannotexpressmadamhow much I am shocked at what I have read; yet letme begyouin one particularto take the writer's advice. Considerthereputation of your daughter."-

"It is goneit is lostMr.Jones"cryed she"as well as her innocence. She received the letterin a roomfull of companyand immediately swooning away upon openingitthecontents were known to every one present. But the loss of herreputationbad as it isis not the worst; I shall lose my child; shehathattempted twice to destroy herself already; and though she hathbeenhitherto preventedvows she will not outlive it; nor could Imyselfoutlive any accident of that nature.- What then will become ofmy littleBetsya helpless infant orphan? and the poor littlewretchwillI believebreak her heart at the miseries with which shesees hersister and myself distractedwhile she is ignorant of thecause. O'tis the most sensibleand best-natured little thing! Thebarbarouscruel-- hath destroyed us all. O my poor children! Is thisthe rewardof all my cares? Is this the fruit of all my prospects?Have I sochearfully undergone all the labours and duties of a mother?Have Ibeen so tender of their infancyso careful of their education?Have Ibeen toiling so many yearsdenying myself even theconveniencesof lifeto provide some little sustenance for themtolose oneor both in such a manner?"

"Indeedmadam" saidJoneswith tearsin his eyes"I pity you from my soul."

"O! Mr.Jones"answeredshe"even youthough I know the goodness of your heartcanhave noidea of what I feel. The bestthe kindestthe most dutifulofchildren! O my poor Nancythe darling of my soul! the delight ofmy eyes!the pride of my heart! too muchindeedmy pride; for tothosefoolishambitious hopesarising from her beautyI owe herruin.Alas! I saw with pleasure the liking which this young man hadfor her. Ithought it an honourable affection; and flattered myfoolishvanity with the thoughts of seeing her married to one somuch hersuperior. And a thousand times in my presencenayoftenin yourshe hath endeavoured to soothe and encourage these hopes bythe mostgenerous expressions of disinterested lovewhich he hathalwaysdirected to my poor girland which Ias well as shebelievedto bereal. Could I have believed that these were only snares laidto betraythe innocence of my childand for the ruin of us all?"- Atthesewords little Betsy came running into the roomcrying"Dearmammaforheaven's sake come to my sister; for she is in another fitand mycousin can't hold her." Mrs. Miller immediately obeyed thesummons;but first ordered Betsy to stay with Mr. Jonesand beggedhim toentertain her a few minutessayingin the most patheticvoice"Good heaven! let me preserve one of my children at least."

 Jonesin compliance with this requestdid all he could tocomfortthe little girlthough he wasin realityhimself veryhighlyaffected with Mrs. Miller's story. He told her "Her sisterwould besoon very well again; that by taking on in that manner shewould notonly make her sister worsebut make her mother ill too."

"Indeedsir" says she"I would not do anything to hurt them fortheworld. Iwould burst my heart rather than they should see mecry.- Butmy poor sister can't see me cry.- I am afraid she will neverbe able tosee me cry any more. IndeedI can't part with her;indeed Ican't.- And then poor mamma toowhat will become ofher?- Shesays she will die tooand leave me: but I am resolved Iwon't beleft behind."

"And are you not afraid to diemy littleBetsy?"said Jones. "Yes" answered she"I was always afraidtodie;because I must have left my mammaand my sister; but I am notafraid ofgoing anywhere with those I love."

 Jones was so pleased with this answer' that he eagerly kissed thechild; andsoon after Mrs. Miller returnedsaying"She thankedheavenNancy was now come to herself. And nowBetsy" says she"youmay go infor your sister is betterand longs to see you." Shethenturned to Jonesand began to renew her apologies for havingdisappointedhim of his breakfast.

  "Ihopemadam" said Jones"I shall have a more exquisiterepastthan anyyou could have provided for me. ThisI assure youwill bethe caseif I can do any service to this little family of love. Butwhateversuccess may attend my endeavoursI am resolved to attemptit. I amvery much deceived in Mr. Nightingaleifnotwithstandingwhat hathhappenedhe hath not much goodness of heart at thebottomaswell as a very violent affection for your daughter. If thisbe thecaseI think the picture which I shall lay before him willaffecthim. Endeavourmadamto comfort yourselfand Miss Nancyas well asyou can. I will go instantly in quest of Mr. Nightingale;and I hopeto bring you good news."

 Mrs. Miller fell upon her knees and invoked all the blessings ofheavenupon Mr. Jones; to which she afterwards added the mostpassionateexpressions of gratitude. He then departed to find Mr.Nightingaleand the good woman returned to comfort her daughterwho wassomewhat cheared at what her mother told her; and bothjoined inresounding the praises of Mr. Jones.

Chapter7
Theinterview between Mr. Jones and Mr. Nightingale

  Thegood or evil we confer on othersvery oftenI believerecoilsonourselves. For as men of a benign disposition enjoy their ownacts ofbeneficence equally with those to whom they are doneso thereare scarceany natures so entirely diabolicalas to be capable ofdoinginjurieswithout paying themselves some pangs for the ruinwhich theybring on their fellow creatures.

  Mr.Nightingaleat leastwas not such a person. On the contraryJonesfound him in his new lodgingssitting melancholy by the fireandsilently lamenting the unhappy situation in which he had placedpoorNancy. He no sooner saw his friend appearthan he arosehastily tomeet him; and after much congratulation said"Nothingcould bemore opportune than this kind visit; for I was never morein thespleen in my life."

  "Iam sorry" answered Jones"that I bring news very unlikelytorelieveyou: naywhat I am convinced mustof all othershock youthe most.Howeverit is necessary you should know it. Without furtherprefacethenI come to youMr. Nightingalefrom a worthy familywhich youhave involved in misery and ruin." Mr. Nightingale changedcolour atthese words; but Joneswithout regarding itproceededin theliveliest mannerto paint the tragical story with which thereader wasacquainted in the last chapter.

 Nightingale never once interrupted the narrationthough hediscoveredviolent emotions at many parts of it. But when it wasconcludedafter fetching a deep sighhe said"What you tell memy friendaffects me in the tenderest manner. Sure there never was socursed anaccident as the poor girl's betraying my letter. Herreputationmight otherwise have been safeand the affair might haveremained aprofound secret; and then the girl might have gone offnever theworse; for many such things happen in this town: and ifthehusband should suspect a littlewhen it is too lateit will behis wiserconduct to conceal his suspicion both from his wife andtheworld."

 "Indeedmy friend" answered Jones"this could nothave been thecase withyour poor Nancy. You have so intirely gained her affectionsthat it isthe loss of youand not of her reputationwhichafflictsherand will end in the destruction of her and herfamily."

"Nayfor that matterI promise you" cries Nightingale"shehath my affections so absolutelythat my wifewhoever she is tobewillhave very little share in them."

"And is it possiblethen"said Jones"you can think of deserting her?"

"Whywhat canI do?"answered the other. "Ask Miss Nancy" replied Jones warmly."Inthecondition to which you have reduced herI sincerely think sheought todetermine what reparation you shall make her. Her interestaloneandnot yoursought to be your sole consideration. But ifyou ask mewhat you shall dowhat can you do less" cries Jones"thanfulfil the expectations of her familyand her own? NayIsincerelytell youthey were mine tooever since I first saw youtogether.You will pardon me if I presume on the friendship you havefavouredme withmoved as I am with compassion for those poorcreatures.But your own heart will best suggest to youwhether youhave neverintendedby your conductto persuade the motheraswell asthe daughterinto an opinionthat you designed honourably:and if sothough there may have been no direct promise of marriage inthe caseI will leave to your own good understandinghow far you arebound toproceed."

 "NayI must not only confess what you have hinted" saidNightingale;"but I am afraid even that very promise you mention Ihavegiven."

"And can youafter owning that" said Jones"hesitate amoment?"

"Considermy friend" answered the other; "I know youarea man ofhonourand would advise no one to act contrary to its rules;if therewere no other objectioncan Iafter this publication of herdisgracethink of such an alliance with honour?"

"Undoubtedly"repliedJones"and the very best and truest honourwhich isgoodnessrequires it of you. As you mention a scruple of this kindyou willgive me leave to examine it. Can you with honour be guilty ofhavingunder false pretences deceived a young woman and her familyand ofhaving by these means treacherously robbed her of herinnocence?Can youwith honourbe the knowingthe wilfuloccasionnaythe artful contriver of the ruin of a human being?Can youwith honourdestroy the famethe peacenayprobablyboththe lifeand soul tooof this creature? Can honour bear thethoughtthat this creature is a tenderhelplessdefencelessyoungwoman? A young womanwho loveswho doats on youwho diesfor you;who hath placed the utmost confidence in your promises; andto thatconfidence hath sacrificed everything which is dear to her?Can honoursupport such contemplations as these a moment?"

 "Common senseindeed" said Nightingale"warrantsall you say; butyet youwell know the opinion of the world is so contrary to itthatwas I tomarry a whorethough my ownI should be ashamed of evershowing myface again."

 "Fie upon itMr. Nightingale!" said Jones"do notcall her by soungenerousa name: when you promised to marry hershe became yourwife; andshe hath sinned more against prudence than virtue. Andwhat isthis worldwhich you would be ashamed to facebut thevilethefoolishand the profligate? Forgive me if I say such ashame mustproceed from false modestywhich always attends falsehonour asits shadow.- But I am well assured there is not a man ofreal senseand goodness in the worldwho would not honour and applaudtheaction. Butadmit no other wouldwould not your own heartmyfriendapplaud it? And do not the warmrapturous sensationswhichwe feelfrom the consciousness of an honestnoblegenerousbenevolentactionconvey more delight to the mind than the undeservedpraise ofmillions? Set the alternative fairly before your eyes. Onthe onesidesee this poorunhappytenderbelieving girlin thearms ofher wretched motherbreathing her last. Hear her breakingheart inagoniessighing out your name; and lamentingrather thanaccusingthe cruelty which weighs her down to destruction. Paint toyourimagination the circumstance of her fond bespairing parentdriven tomadnessorperhapsto deathby the loss of her lovelydaughter.View the poorhelplessorphan infant; and when your mindhath dwelta moment only on such ideasconsider yourself as the causeof all theruin of this poorlittleworthydefenceless family. Onthe othersideconsider yourselfas relieving them from theirtemporarysufferings. Think with what joywith what transports thatlovelycreature will fly to your arms. See her blood returning toher palecheeksher fire to her languid eyesand raptures to hertorturedbreast. Consider the exultations of her motherthe happinessof all.Think of this little family made by one act of yourscompletelyhappy. Think of this alternativeand sure I am mistaken inmy friendif it requires any long deliberationwhether he willsink thesewretches down for everorby one generousnobleresolutionraise them all from the brink of misery and despair to thehighestpitch of human happiness. Add to this but one considerationmore; theconsideration that it is your duty so to do- That themiseryfrom which you will relieve these poor peopleis the miserywhich youyourself have wilfully brought upon them."

  "Omy dear friend!" cries Nightingale"I wanted not youreloquenceto rouseme. I pity poor Nancy from my souland would willinglygiveanything in my power that no familiarities had ever passedbetweenus. Naybelieve meI had many struggles with my passionbefore Icould prevail with myself to write that cruel letterwhichhathcaused all the misery in that unhappy family. If I had noinclinationsto consult but my ownI would marry her to-morrowmorning: Iwouldby heaven! but you will easily imagine howimpossibleit would be to prevail on my father to consent to such amatch;besideshe hath provided another for me; and to-morrowby hisexpresscommandI am to wait on the lady."

  "Ihave not the honour to know your father" said Jones; "butsuppose hecould be persuadedwould you yourself consent to theonly meansof preserving these poor people?"

"As eagerly as I wouldpursue myhappiness" answered Nightingale: "for I never shall finditin anyother woman.- Omy dear friend! could you imagine what I havefeltwithin these twelve hours for my poor girlI am convinced shewould notengross all your pity. Passion leads me only to her; andifI had anyfoolish scruples of honouryou have fully satisfied them:could myfather be induced to comply with my desiresnothing would bewanting tocompleat my own happinessor that of my Nancy."

 "Then I am resolved to undertake it" said Jones. "Youmust not beangry withmein whatever light it may be necessary to set thisaffairwhichyou may depend on itcould not otherwise be long hidfrom him:for things of this nature make a quick progress when oncethey getabroadas this unhappily hath already. Besidesshould anyfatalaccident followas upon my soul I am afraid willunlessimmediatelypreventedthe public would ring of your name in amannerwhichif your father hath common humanitymust offend him. Ifyou willtherefore tell me where I may find the old gentlemanIwill notlose a moment in the business; whichwhile I pursueyoucannot doa more generous action than by paying a visit to the poorgirl. Youwill find I have not exaggerated in the account I have givenof thewretchedness of the family."

 Nightingale immediately consented to the proposal; and nowhavingacquaintedJones with his father's lodgingand the coffee-house wherehe wouldmost probably find himhe hesitated a momentand then said"Mydear Tomyou are going to undertake an impossibility. If you knewmy fatheryou would never think of obtaining his consent.-- Staythere isone way- suppose you told him I was already marriedit mightbe easierto reconcile him to the fact after it was done; andupon myhonourIam so affected with what you have saidand I love myNancy sopassionatelyI almost wish it was donewhatever might betheconsequence."

 Jones greatly approved the hintand promised to pursue it. TheythenseparatedNightingaleto visit his Nancyand Jones in quest ofthe oldgentleman.

Chapter8
Whatpassed between Jones and old Mr. Nightingale; with thearrival ofa person not yet mentioned in this history

 Notwithstanding the sentiment of the Roman satiristwhich deniesthedivinity of fortuneand the opinion of Seneca to the samepurpose;Cicerowho wasI believea wiser man than either ofthemexpressly holds the contrary; and certain it isthere aresomeincidents in life so very strange and unaccountablethat itseems torequire more than human skill and foresight in producingthem.

  Ofthis kind was what now happened to Joneswho found Mr.Nightingalethe elder in so critical a minutethat Fortuneif shewas reallyworthy all the worship she received at Romecould not havecontrivedsuch another. In shortthe old gentlemanand the father ofthe younglady whom he intended for his sonhad been hard at it formanyhours; and the latter was just now goneand had left theformerdelighted with the thoughts that he had succeeded in a longcontentionwhich had been between the two fathers of the future brideandbridegroom; in which both endeavoured to overreach the otherandas it notrarely happens in such casesboth had retreated fullysatisfiedof having obtained the victory.

 This gentlemanwhom Mr. Jones now visitedwas what they call a manof theworld; that is to saya man who directs his conduct in thisworld asone whobeing fully persuaded there is no otheris resolvedto makethe most of this. In his early years he had been bred totrade;buthaving acquired a very good fortunehe had latelydeclinedhis business; orto speak more properlyhad changed it fromdealing ingoodsto dealing only in moneyof which he had always aplentifulfund at commandand of which he knew very well how tomake avery plentiful advantagesometimes of the necessities ofprivatemenand sometimes of those of the public. He had indeedconversedso intirely with moneythat it may be almost doubtedwhether heimagined there was any other thing really existing in theworld;this at least may be certainly averredthat he firmly believednothingelse to have any real value.

  Thereader willI fancyallow that Fortune could not have culledout a moreimproper person for Mr. Jones to attack with anyprobabilityof success; nor could the whimsical lady have directedthisattack at a more unseasonable time.

  Asmoney then was always uppermost in this gentleman's thoughtsso themoment he saw a stranger within his doorsit immediatelyoccurredto his imaginationthat such stranger was either come tobring himmoneyor to fetch it from him. And according as one orother ofthese thoughts prevailedhe conceived a favourable orunfavourableidea of the person who approached him.

 Unluckily for Jonesthe latter of these was the ascendant atpresent;for as a young gentleman had visited him the day beforewitha billfrom his son for a play debthe apprehendedat the firstsight ofJonesthat he was come on such another errand. Jonesthereforehad no sooner told him that he was come on his son'saccountthan the old gentlemanbeing confirmed in his suspicionburstforth into an exclamation"That he would lose his labour."

"Isit then possiblesir" answered Jones"that you can guessmybusiness?"

"If I do guess it" replied the other"I repeat againtoyouyouwill lose your labour. WhatI suppose you are one of thosesparks wholead my son into all those scenes of riot and debaucherywhich willbe his destruction? but I shall pay no more of his billsIpromiseyou. I expect he will quit all such company for the future. IfI hadimagined otherwiseI should not have provided a wife for him;for Iwould be instrumental in the ruin of nobody."

"Howsir"saidJones"and was this lady of your providing?"

"Praysir"answeredthe oldgentleman"how comes it to be any concern of yours?"

"Naydear sir"replied Jones"be not offended that I interest myself inwhatregards your son's happinessfor whom I have so great anhonour andvalue. It was upon that very account I came to wait uponyou. Ican't express the satisfaction you have given me by what yousay; for Ido assure youyour son is a person for whom I have thehighesthonour.- Naysirit is not easy to express the esteem Ihave foryou; who could be so generousso goodso kindso indulgentto providesuch a match for your son; a womanwhoI dare swearwillmake himone of the happiest men upon earth."

 There is scarce anything which so happily introduces men to our goodlikingashaving conceived some alarm at their first appearance; whenonce thoseapprehensions begin to vanishwe soon forget the fearswhich theyoccasionedand look on ourselves as indebted for ourpresentease to those very persons who at first raised our fears.

 Thus it happened to Nightingalewho no sooner found that Joneshad nodemand on himas he suspectedthan he began to be pleasedwith hispresence. "Praygood sir" said he"be pleased tosit down.I do notremember to have ever had the pleasure of seeing youbefore;but if you are a friend of my sonand have anything to sayconcerningthis young ladyI shall be glad to hear you. As to hermaking himhappyit will be his own fault if she doth not. I havedischargedmy dutyin taking care of the main article. She will bringhim afortune capable of making any reasonableprudentsober manhappy."

"Undoubtedly" cries Jones"for she is in herself afortune;sobeautifulso genteelso sweet-temperedand so well-educated; sheis indeeda most accomplished young lady; sings admirably wellandhath amost delicate hand at the harpsichord."

"I did not know anyof thesematters" answered the old gentleman"for I never saw thelady: butI do not like her the worse for what you tell me; and I amthe betterpleased with her father for not laying any stress onthesequalifications in our bargain. I shall always think it a proofof hisunderstanding. A silly fellow would have brought in thesearticlesas an addition to her fortune; butto give him his duehenevermentioned any such matter; though to be sure they are nodisparagementsto a woman."

"I do assure yousir" cries Jones"shehath them all in the most eminent degree: for my partI own Iwas afraidyou might have been a little backwarda little lessinclinedto the match; for your son told me you had never seen thelady;therefore I camesirin that caseto entreat youtoconjureyouas you value the happiness of your sonnot to beaverse tohis match with a woman who hath not only all the goodqualitiesI have mentionedbut many more."

"If that was yourbusinesssir" said the old gentleman"we are both obliged to you;and youmay be perfectly easy; for I give you my word I was verywellsatisfied with her fortune."

"Sir" answered Jones"Ihonour youeverymoment more and more. To be so easily satisfiedso verymoderateon that accountis a proof of the soundness of yourunderstandingas well as the nobleness of your mind."--"Not so verymoderateyoung gentlemannot so very moderate" answered thefather.-

"Still more and more noble" replied Jones; "and givemeleave toaddsensible: for sure it is little less than madness toconsidermoney as the sole foundation of happiness. Such a woman asthis withher littleher nothing of a fortune"

"I find" criestheoldgentleman"you have a pretty just opinion of moneymy friendorelse youare better acquainted with the person of the lady than withhercircumstances. Whypraywhat fortune do you imagine this lady tohave?"

"What fortune?" cries Jones"whytoo contemptible aone to benamed foryour son."

"Wellwellwell" said the other"perhaps hemight havedone better."

"That I deny" said Jones"forshe is oneof thebest of women."

"Ayaybut in point of fortune I mean"answeredthe other. "And yetas to that nowhow much do you imagineyourfriend is to have?"

"How much?" cries Jones"howmuch? Whyattheutmostperhaps L200."

"Do you mean to banter meyounggentleman?"said the fathera little angry. "Noupon my soul"answeredJones"I am in earnest: nayI believe I have gone to theutmostfarthing. If I do the lady an injuryI ask her pardon."

"Indeedyou do" cries the father; "I am certain she hath fiftytimesthat sumand she shall produce fifty to that before I consent thatshe shallmarry my son."

"Nay" said Jones"it is too lateto talk ofconsentnow; if she had not fifty farthingsyour son is married."

"Myson married!" answered the old gentlemanwith surprize. "Nay"saidJones"I thought you was unacquainted with it."

"Myson marriedto MissHarris!" answered he again. "To Miss Harris!" saidJones; "nosir; toMiss Nancy Millerthe daughter of Mrs Millerat whose househe lodged;a young ladywhothough her mother is reduced to letlodgings-"

"Are you banteringor are you in earnest?" cries thefatherwith a most solemn voice. "Indeedsir" answered Jones"Iscorn thecharacter of a banterer. I came to you in most seriousearnestimaginingas I find truethat your son had never dared toacquaintyou with a match so much inferior to him in point of fortunethough thereputation of the lady will suffer it no longer to remain asecret."

 While the father stood like one struck suddenly dumb at this newsagentlemancame into the roomand saluted him by the name of brother.

  Butthough these two were in consanguinity so nearly relatedtheywere intheir dispositions almost the opposites to each other. Thebrotherwho now arrived had likewise been bred to tradein which heno soonersaw himself worth L6000 than he purchased a small estatewith thegreatest part of itand retired into the country; where hemarriedthe daughter of an unbeneficed clergyman; a young ladywhothough shehad neither beauty nor fortunehad recommended herselfto hischoice entirely by her good humourof which she possessed avery largeshare.

 With this woman he hadduring twenty-five yearslived a lifemoreresembling the model which certain poets ascribe to the goldenagethanany of those patterns which are furnished by the presenttimes. Byher he had four childrenbut none of them arrived atmaturityexcept only one daughterwhomin vulgar languagehe andhis wifehad spoiled; that ishad educated with the utmost tendernessandfondnesswhich she returned to such a degreethat she hadactuallyrefused a very extraordinary match with a gentleman alittleturned of fortybecause she could not bring herself to partwith herparents.

  Theyoung lady whom Mr. Nightingale had intended for his son was anearneighbour of his brotherand an acquaintance of his niece; andin realityit was upon the account of his projected matchthat he wasnow cometo town; notindeedto forwardbut to dissuade his brotherfrom apurpose which he conceived would inevitably ruin his nephew;for heforesaw no other event from a union with Miss Harrisnotwithstandingthe largeness of her fortuneas neither her personnor mindseemed to promise any kind of matrimonial felicity: for shewas verytallvery thinvery uglyvery affectedvery sillyandveryill-natured.

  Hisbrotherthereforeno sooner mentioned the marriage of hisnephewwith Miss Millerthan he exprest the utmost satisfaction;and whenthe father had very bitterly reviled his sonandpronouncedsentence of beggary upon himthe uncle began in thefollowingmanner:

  "Ifyou was a little coolerbrotherI would ask you whether youlove yourson for his sake or for your own. You would answerIsupposeand so I suppose you thinkfor his sake; and doubtless it ishishappiness which you intended in the marriage you proposed for him.

 "Nowbrotherto prescribe rules of happiness to others hathalwaysappearedto me very absurdand to insist on doing thisverytyrannical.It is a vulgar errorI know; but it isneverthelessan error.And if this be absurd in other thingsit is mostly so inthe affairof marriagethe happiness of which depends intirely on theaffectionwhich subsists between the parties.

  "Ihave therefore always thought it unreasonable in parents todesire tochuse for their children on this occasion; since to forceaffectionis an impossible attempt; nayso much doth love abhorforcethat I know not whetherthrough an unfortunate but uncurableperversenessin our naturesit may not be even impatient ofpersuasion.

  "Itishowevertrue thatthough a parent will notI thinkwiselyprescribehe ought to be consulted on this occasion; andinstrictnessperhapsshould at least have a negative voice. My nephewthereforeI ownin marryingwithout asking your advicehath beenguilty ofa fault. Buthonestly speakingbrotherhave you not alittlepromoted this fault? Have not your frequent declarations onthissubject given him a moral certainty of your refusalwherethere wasany deficiency in point of fortune? Naydoth not yourpresentanger arise solely from that deficiency? And if he hath failedin hisduty heredid you not as much exceed that authoritywhenyouabsolutely bargained with him for a womanwithout hisknowledgewhom you yourself never sawand whomif you had seenand knownas well as Iit must have been madness in you to haveeverthought of bringing her into your family?

 "Still I own my nephew in a fault; but surely it is not anunpardonablefault. He hath acted indeed without your consentin amatter inwhich he ought to have asked itbut it is in a matter inwhich hisinterest is principally concerned; you yourself must andwillacknowledgethat you consulted his interest onlyand if heunfortunatelydiffered from youand hath been mistaken in hisnotion ofhappinesswill youbrotherif you love your soncarryhim stillwider from the point? Will you increase the ill consequencesof hissimple choice? Will you endeavour to make an event certainmisery tohimwhich may accidentally prove so? In a wordbrotherbecause hehath put it out of your power to make his circumstancesasaffluent as you wouldwill you distress them as much as you can?"

  Bythe force of the true Catholic faithSt. Anthony won upon thefishes.Orpheus and Amphion went a little fartherand by the charmsof musicenchanted things merely inanimate. Wonderfulboth! butneitherhistory nor fable have ever yet ventured to record an instanceof anyonewhoby force of argument and reasonhath triumphedoverhabitual avarice.

  Mr.Nightingalethe fatherinstead of attempting to answer hisbrothercontented himself with only observingthat they had alwaysdifferedin their sentiments concerning the education of theirchildren."I wish" said he"brotheryou would have confinedyourcare toyour own daughterand never have troubled yourself with mysonwhohathI believeas little profited by your preceptsas byyourexample." For young Nightingale was his uncle's godsonand hadlived morewith him than with his father. So that the uncle hadoftendeclaredhe loved his nephew almost equally with his own child.

 Jones fell into raptures with this good gentleman; and whenaftermuchpersuasionthey found the father grew still more and moreirritatedinstead of appeasedJones conducted the uncle to hisnephew atthe house of Mrs. Miller.

Chapter9
Containingstrange matters

  Athis return to his lodgingsJones found the situation ofaffairsgreatly altered from what they had been in at his departure.Themotherthe two daughtersand young Mr. Nightingalewere now satdown tosupper togetherwhen the uncle wasat his own desireintroducedwithout any ceremony into the companyto all of whom hewas wellknown; for he had several times visited his nephew at thathouse.

  Theold gentleman immediately walked up to Miss Nancysaluted andwished herjoyas he did afterwards the mother and the othersister;and lastlyhe paid the proper compliments to his nephewwiththe samegood humour and courtesyas if his nephew had married hisequal orsuperior in fortunewith all the previous requisites firstperformed.

 Miss Nancy and her supposed husband both turned paleand lookedratherfoolish than otherwise upon this occasion; but Mrs. Miller tookthe firstopportunity of withdrawing; andhaving sent for Jonesinto thedining-roomshe threw herself at his feetand in a mostpassionateflood of tearscalled him her good angelthe preserver ofher poorlittle familywith many other respectful and endearingappellationsand made him every acknowledgment which the highestbenefitcan extract from the most grateful heart.

 After the first gust of her passion was a little overwhich shedeclaredif she had not ventedwould have burst hershe proceededto informMr. Jones that all matters were settled between Mr.Nightingaleand her daughterand that they were to be married thenextmorning; at which Mr. Jones having expressed much pleasurethepoor womanfell again into a fit of joy and thanksgivingwhich heat lengthwith difficulty silencedand prevailed on her to returnwith himback to the companywhom they found in the same goodhumour inwhich they had left them.

 This little society now past two or three very agreeable hourstogetherin which the unclewho was a very great lover of hisbottlehad so well plyed his nephewthat this latterthough notdrunkbegan to be somewhat flustered; and now Mr. Nightingaletakingthe oldgentleman with him upstairs into the apartment he had latelyoccupiedunbosomed himself as follows:-

  "Asyou have been always the best and kindest of uncles to meandas youhave shown such unparalleled goodness in forgiving thismatchwhich to be sure may be thought a little improvidentIshouldnever forgive myself if I attempted to deceive you inanything."He then confessed the truthand opened the whole affair.

 "HowJack?" said the old gentleman"and are youreally then notmarried tothis young woman?"

"Noupon my honour" answeredNightingale"I have told you the simple truth."

"My dear boy"cries theunclekissing him"I am heartily glad to hear it. Inever wasbetter pleased in my life. If you had been marriedI shouldhaveassisted you as much as was in my power to have made the bestof a badmatter; but there is a great difference between considering athingwhich is already done and irrecoverableand that which is yetto do. Letyour reason have fair playJackand you will see thismatch inso foolish and preposterous a lightthat there will be noneed ofany dissuasive arguments."

"Howsir?" replies youngNightingale"is there this difference between having already donean actand being in honour engaged to do it?"

"Pugh!" saidthe uncle"honouris a creature of the world's makingand the world hath thepower of acreator over itand may govern and direct it as theyplease.Now you well know how trivial these breaches of contract arethought;even the grossest make but the wonder and conversation of aday. Isthere a man who afterwards will be more backward in giving youhissisteror daughter? or is there any sister or daughter whowould bemore backward to receive you? Honour is not concerned intheseengagements."

"Pardon medear sir" criesNightingale"I canneverthink so; and not only honourbut conscience and humanityareconcerned. I am well satisfiedthatwas I now to disappointthe youngcreatureher death would be the consequenceand I shouldlook uponmyself as her murderer; nayas her murderer by thecruellestof all methodsby breaking her heart."

"Break her heartindeed!nonoJack" cries the uncle"the hearts of women arenotso soonbroke; they are toughboythey are tough."

"Butsir"answeredNightingale"my own affections are engagedand I nevercould behappy with any other woman. How often have I heard you saythatchildren should be always suffered to chuse for themselvesandthat youwould let my cousin Harriet do so?"

"Whyay" repliedtheoldgentleman"so I would have them; but then I would have themchusewisely.-IndeedJackyou must and shall leave the girl."-

"Indeeduncle"cries the other"I must and will have her."

"Youwillyounggentleman!" said the uncle; "I did not expect such a wordfromyou. Ishould not wonder if you had used such language to your fatherwho hathalways treated you like a dogand kept you at the distancewhich atyrant preserves over his subjects; but Iwho have lived withyou uponan equal footingmight surely expect better usage: but Iknow howto account for it all: it is all owing to your preposterouseducationin which I have had too little share. There is my daughternowwhomI have brought up as my friendnever doth anythingwithout myadvicenor ever refuses to take it when I give it her."

"Youhave never yet given her advice in an affair of this kind"saidNightingale; "for I am greatly mistaken in my cousinif shewould bevery ready to obey even your most positive commands inabandoningher inclinations."

"Don't abuse my girl" answered theoldgentleman with some emotion; "don't abuse my Harriet. I havebroughther up to have no inclinations contrary to my own. Bysufferingher to do whatever she pleasesI have enured her to a habitof beingpleased to do whatever I like." Pardon mesir" saidNightingale"I have not the least design to reflect on my cousinforwhom Ihave the greatest esteem; and indeed I am convinced you willnever puther to so severe a tryalor lay such hard commands on heras youwould do on me.- Butdear sirlet us return to the company;for theywill begin to be uneasy at our long absence. I must beg onefavour ofmy dear unclewhich is that he would not say anything toshock thepoor girl or her mother."

"Oh! you need not fear me"answeredhe"I understand myself too well to affront women; so I willreadilygrant you that favour; and in return I must expect anotherof you."

"There are but few of your commandssir" saidNightingale"which I shall not very chearfully obey."

"NaysirIasknothing" said the uncle"but the honour of your companyhometo mylodgingthat I may reason the case a little more fully withyou; for Iwouldif possiblehave the satisfaction of preservingmy familynotwithstanding the headstrong folly of my brotherwhoinhisopinionis the wisest man in the world."

 Nightingalewho well knew his uncle to be as headstrong as hisfathersubmitted to attend him homeand then they both returned backinto theroomwhere the old gentleman promised to carty himselfwith thesame decorum which he had before maintained.

Chapter10
A shortchapterwhich concludes the book

  Thelong absence of the uncle and nephew had occasioned somedisquietin the minds of all whom they had left behind them; and themoreasduring the preceding dialoguethe uncle had more thanonceelevated his voiceso as to be heard downstairs; whichthoughthey couldnot distinguish what he saidhad caused some evilforebodingin Nancy and her motherandindeedeven in Joneshimself.

 When the good companythereforeagain assembledthere was avisiblealteration in all their faces; and the good humour whichattheir lastmeetinguniversally shone forth in every countenancewas nowchanged into a much less agreeable aspect. It was a changeindeedcommon enough to the weather in this climatefrom sunshine tocloudsfrom June to December.

 This alteration was nothowevergreatly remarked by any present;for asthey were all now endeavouring to conceal their own thoughtsand to acta partthey became all too busily engaged in the sceneto bespectators of it. Thus neither the uncle nor nephew saw anysymptomsof suspicion in the mother or daughter; nor did the mother ordaughterremark the overacted complacence of the old mannor thecounterfeitsatisfaction which grinned in the features of the youngone.

 Something like thisI believefrequently happenswhere thewholeattention of two friends being engaged in the part which each isto actinorder to impose on the otherneither sees nor suspects theartspractised against himself; and thus the thrust of both (to borrownoimproper metaphor on the occasion) alike takes place.

 From the same reason it is no unusual thing for both parties to beoverreachedin a bargainthough the one must be always the greaterloser; aswas he who sold a blind horseand received a bad note inpayment.

  Ourcompany in about half an hour broke upand the uncle carriedoff hisnephew; but not before the latter had assured Miss Nancyin awhisperthat he would attend her early in the morningand fulfil allhisengagements.

 Joneswho was the least concerned in this scenesaw the most. Hedid indeedsuspect the very fact; forbesides observing the greatalterationin the behaviour of the unclethe distance he assumedandhisoverstrained civility to Miss Nancy; the carrying off a bridegroomfrom hisbride at that time of night was so extraordinary aproceedingthat it could be accounted for only by imagining thatyoungNightingale had revealed the whole truthwhich the apparentopennessof his temperand his being flustered with liquormade tooprobable.

 While he was reasoning with himselfwhether he should acquaintthese poorpeople with his suspicionthe maid of the house informedhim that agentlewoman desired to speak with him.-- He wentimmediatelyoutandtaking the candle from the maidushered hisvisitantupstairswhoin the person of Mrs. Honouracquainted himwith suchdreadful news concerning his Sophiathat he immediatelylost allconsideration for every other person; and his whole stockofcompassion was entirely swallowed up in reflections on his ownmiseryand on that of his unfortunate angel.

 What this dreadful matter wasthe reader will be informedafter wehave firstrelated the many preceding steps which produced itandthose willbe the subject of the following book.

BOOK XVIN WHICHTHE HISTORY ADVANCES ABOUT TWO DAYS

Chapter1
Too shortto need a preface

 There are a set of religiousor rather moral writerswho teachthatvirtue is the certain road to happinessand vice to miseryinthisworld. A very wholesome and comfortable doctrineand to which wehave butone objectionnamelythat it is not true.

 Indeedif by virtue these writers mean the exercise of thosecardinalvirtueswhich like good housewives stay at homeand mindonly thebusiness of their own familyI shall very readily concedethe point;for so surely do all these contribute and lead tohappinessthat I could almost wishin violation of all the antientand modernsagesto call them rather by the name of wisdomthan bythat ofvirtue; forwith regard to this lifeno systemIconceivewas ever wiser than that of the antient Epicureanswho heldthiswisdom to constitute the chief good; nor foolisher than that oftheiroppositesthose modern epicureswho place all felicity intheabundant gratification of every sensual appetite.

  Butif by virtue is meant (as I almost think it ought) a certainrelativequalitywhich is always busying itself without-doorsandseems asmuch interested in pursuing the good of others as its own;I cannotso easily agree that this is the surest way to humanhappiness;because I am afraid we must then include poverty andcontemptwith all the mischiefs which backbitingenvyandingratitudecan bring on mankindin our idea of happiness; naysometimesperhaps we shall be obliged to wait upon the saidhappinessto a jail; since many by the above virtue have broughtthemselvesthither.

  Ihave not now leisure to enter upon so large a field ofspeculationas here seems opening upon me; my design was to wipeoff adoctrine that lay in my way; sincewhile Mr. Jones was actingthe mostvirtuous part imaginablein labouring to preserve hisfellow-creaturesfrom destructionthe devilor some other evilspiritone perhaps cloathed in human fleshwas hard at work tomake himcompletely miserable in the ruin of his Sophia.

 Thisthereforewould seem an exception to the above ruleifindeed itwas a rule; but as we have in our voyage through life seenso manyother exceptions to itwe chuse to dispute the doctrine onwhich itis foundedwhich we don't apprehend to be Christianwhichwe areconvinced is not trueand which is indeed destructive of oneof thenoblest arguments that reason alone can furnish for thebelief ofimmortality.

  Butas the reader's curiosity (if he hath any) must be now awakeandhungrywe shall provide to feed it as fast as we can.

Chapter2
In whichis opened a very black design against Sophia

  Iremember a wise old gentleman who used to say"When childrenare doingnothingthey are doing mischief." I will not enlarge thisquaintsaying to the most beautiful part of the creation in general;but so farI may be allowedthat when the effects of femalejealousydo not appear openly in their proper colours of rage andfurywemay suspect that mischievous passion to be at work privatelyandattempting to underminewhat it doth not attack above-ground.

 This was exemplified in the conduct of Lady Bellastonwhounderall thesmiles which she wore in her countenanceconcealed muchindignationagainst Sophia; and as she plainly saw that this younglady stoodbetween her and the full indulgence of her desiressheresolvedto get rid of her by some means other; nor was it long beforea veryfavourable opportunity of accomplishing this presented itselfto her.

  Thereader may be pleased to rememberthat when Sophia was throwninto thatconsternation at the playhouseby the wit and humour of aset ofyoung gentlemen who call themselves the townwe informedhimthatshe had put herself under the protection of a youngnoblemanwho had very safely conducted her to her chair.

 This noblemanwho frequently visited Lady Bellastonhad morethan onceseen Sophia theresince her arrival in townand hadconceiveda very great liking to her; which likingas beauty neverlooks moreamiable than in distressSophia had in this fright soencreasedthat he might nowwithout any great improprietybe saidto beactually in love with her.

  Itmay easily be believedthat he would not suffer so handsome anoccasionof improving his acquaintance with the beloved object asnowoffered itself to elapsewhen even good breeding alone might havepromptedhim to pay her a visit.

  Thenext morning thereforeafter this accidenthe waited onSophiawith the usual complimentsand hopes that she had received noharm fromher last night's adventure.

  Aslovelike firewhen once thoroughly kindledis soon blown intoa flameSophia in a very short time compleated her conquest. Time nowflew awayunperceivedand the noble lord had been two hours incompanywith the ladybefore it entered into his head that he hadmade toolong a visit. Though this circumstance alone would havealarmedSophiawho was somewhat more a mistress of computation atpresent;she had indeed much more pregnant evidence from the eyes ofher loverof what past within his bosom; naythough he did not makeany opendeclaration of his passionyet many of his expressionswererather too warmand too tenderto have been imputed tocomplacenceeven in the age when such complacence was in fashion; theveryreverse of which is well known to be the reigning mode atpresent.

 Lady Bellaston had been apprized of his lordship's visit at hisfirstarrival; and the length of it very well satisfied herthatthingswent as she wishedand as indeed she had suspected thesecondtime she saw this young couple together. This businesssherightlyIthinkconcludedthat she should by no means 'forward bymixing inthe company while they were together; she thereforeorderedher servantsthat when my lord was goingthey should tellhim shedesired to speak with him; and employed the intermediatetime inmeditating how best to accomplish a schemewhich she madeno doubtbut his lordship would very readily embrace the execution of.

 Lord Fellamar (for that was the title of this young nobleman) was nosoonerintroduced to her ladyshipthan she attacked him in thefollowingstrain: "Bless memy lordare you here yet? I thought myservantshad made a mistakeand let you go away; and I wanted tosee youabout an affair of some importance."-

"IndeedLadyBellaston"said he"I don't wonder you are astonished at the lengthof myvisit; for I have staid above two hoursand I did not think Ihad staidabove half-a-one."-

"What am I to conclude from thencemylord?"said she. "The company must be very agreeable which can maketime slideaway so very deceitfully."-

"Upon my honour" saidhe"themost agreeable I ever saw. Pray tell meLady Bellastonwho isthisblazing star which you have produced among us all of a sudden?"-

"Whatblazing starmy lord?" said sheaffecting a surprize. "Imean"said he"the lady I saw here the other daywhom I had lastnight inmy arms at the playhouseand to whom I have been making thatunreasonablevisit."-

"Omy cousin Western!" said she; "whythatblazingstarmy lordis the daughter of a country booby squireand hathbeen in town about a fortnightfor the first time."-

"Uponmy soul"said he"I should swear she had been bred up in a court;forbesides her beautyI never saw anything so genteelso sensiblesopolite."--"O brave!" cries the lady"my cousinhath youIfind."-

"Upon my honour" answered he"I wish she had; for Iam inlove withher to distraction."-

"Naymy lord" said she"itis notwishingyourself very ill neitherfor she is a very great fortune:I assureyou she is an only childand her father's estate is a goodL3000a-year."

"Then I can assure youmadam" answered thelord"Ithink herthe best match in England."

"Indeedmy lord" repliedshe"ifyou like herI heartily wish you had her."

"If you thinkso kindlyof memadam" said he"as she is a relation of yourswillyou do methe honour to propose it to her father?"

"And are youreallythen inearnest?" cries the ladywith an affected gravity. "Ihopemadam"answered he"you have a better opinion of methan to imagineI wouldjest with your ladyship in an affair of this kind."

"Indeedthen"said the lady"I will most readily propose your lordship toherfather; and I canI believeassure you of his joyfulacceptanceof the proposal; but there is a barwhich I am almostashamed tomention; and yet it is one you will never be able toconquer.You have a rivalmy lordand a rival whothough I blush toname himneither younor all the worldwill ever be able toconquer."

"Upon my wordLady Bellaston" cries he"you havestruck adamp to myheartwhich hath almost deprived me of being."

"Fiemylord"said she"I should rather hope I had struck fire into you. Aloverandtalk of damps in your heart! I rather imagined you wouldhave askedyour rival's namethat you might have immediatelyenteredthe lists with him."

"I promise youmadam" answeredhe"thereare very few things I would not undertake for your charmingcousin;but praywho is this happy man?"

"Whyhe is" saidshe"whatI am sorry to say most happy men with us areone of thelowestfellows in the world. He is a beggara bastarda foundlingafellow inmeaner circumstances than one of your lordship's footmen."

"Andis it possible" cried he"that a young creature with suchperfectionsshould think of bestowing herself so unworthily?"

"Alas!my lord"answered she"consider the country- the bane of all youngwomen isthe country. There they learn a set of romantic notions ofloveandI know not what follywhich this town and good companycan scarceeradicate in a whole winter."

"Indeedmadam" repliedmylord"your cousin is of too immense a value to be thrown away; suchruin asthis must be prevented."

"Alas!" cries she"mylordhowcan it beprevented? The family have already done all in theirpower; butthe girl isI thinkintoxicatedand nothing less thanruin willcontent her. And to deal more openly with youI expectevery dayto hear she is run away with him."

"What you tell meLadyBellaston"answered his lordship"affects me most tenderlyand onlyraises mycompassioninstead of lessening my adoration of yourcousin.Some means must be found to preserve so inestimable a jewel.Hath yourladyship endeavoured to reason with her?" Here the ladyaffected alaughand cried"My dear lordsure you know us betterthan totalk of reasoning a young woman out of her inclinations? Theseinestimablejewels are as deaf as the jewels they wear: timemy lordtime isthe only medicine to cure their folly; but this is amedicinewhich I am certain she will not take; nayI live in hourlyhorrors onher account. In shortnothing but violent methods willdo."

"What is to be done?" cries my lord; "what methods areto betaken?- Isthere any method upon earth?- Oh! Lady Bellaston! there isnothingwhich I would not undertake for such a reward."-

"I reallyknow not"answered the ladyafter a pause; and then pausing againshe criedout

"Upon my soulI am at my wit's end on this girl'saccount.-If she can be preservedsomething must be doneimmediately;andas I saynothing but violent methods will do.- Ifyourlordship hath really this attachment to my cousin (and to doherjusticeexcept in this silly inclinationof which she willsoon seeher follyshe is every way deserving)I think there maybe onewayindeed it is a very disagreeable oneand what I am almostafraid tothink of.- It requires a great spiritI promise you."

"Iam notconsciousmadam" said he"of any defect there; nor am IIhopesuspected of any such. It must be an egregious defect indeedwhichcould make me backward on this occasion."

"Naymy lord"answeredshe"I am so far from doubting youI am much moreinclinedto doubt my own courage; for I must run a monstrous risque.In shortI must place such a confidence in your honour as a wisewoman willscarce ever place in a man on any consideration." In thispointlikewise my lord very well satisfied her; for his reputation wasextremelyclearand common fame did him no more than justiceinspeakingwell of him. "Wellthen" said she"my lord- I- IvowIcan't bearthe apprehension of it.- Noit must not be.-- At leasteveryother method shall be tried. Can you get rid of yourengagementsand dine here to-day? Your lordship will have anopportunityof seeing a little more of Miss Western.- I promise youwe have notime to lose. Here will be nobody but Lady BettyandMissEagleand Colonel Hampstedand Tom Edwards; they will all gosoon-and Ishall be at home to nobody. Then your lordship may be alittlemore explicit. NayI will contrive some method to convince youof herattachment to this fellow." My lord made proper complimentsacceptedthe invitationand then they parted to dressit being nowpast threein in the morningor to reckon by the old stylein theafternoon.

Chapter3
A furtherexplanation of the foregoing design

 Though the reader may have long since concluded Lady Bellaston to bea member(and no inconsiderable one) of the great world; she was inreality avery considerable member of the little world; by whichappellationwas distinguished a very worthy and honourable societywhich notlong since flourished in this kingdom.

 Among other good principles upon which this society was foundedthere wasone very remarkable; foras it was a rule of anhonourableclub of heroeswho assembled at the close of the late warthat allthe members should every day fight once at least; so 'twas inthisthatevery member shouldwithin the twenty-four hourstellat leastone merry fibwhich was to be propagated by all the brethrenandsisterhood.

 Many idle stories were told about this societywhich from a certainqualitymay beperhaps not unjustlysupposed to have come from thesocietythemselves. Asthat the devil was the president; and thathe sat inperson in an elbow-chair at the upper end of the table; butupon verystrict inquiryI find there is not the least truth in anyof thosetalesand that the assembly consisted in reality of a set ofvery goodsort of peopleand the fibs which they propagated were of aharmlesskindand tended only to produce mirth and good humour.

 Edwards was likewise a member of this comical society. To himthereforeLady Bellaston applied as a proper instrument for herpurposeand furnished him with a fibwhich he was to vent wheneverthe ladygave him her cue; and this was not to be till the eveningwhen allthe company but Lord Fellamar and himself were goneandwhile theywere engaged in a rubbers at whist.

  Tothis time thenwhich was between seven and eight in the eveningwe willconvey our reader; when Lady BellastonLord FellamarMissWesternand Tombeing engaged at whistand in the last game oftheirrubbersTom received his cue from Lady Bellastonwhich was"IprotestTomyou are grown intolerable lately; you used to tell usall thenews of the townand now you know no more of the world thanif youlived out of it."

  Mr.Edwards then began as follows: "The fault is not minemadam: itlies inthe dulness of the agethat doth nothing worth talkingof.-- Ola! though now I think on'tthere hath a terrible accidentbefallenpoor Colonel Wilcox.-- Poor Ned.-- You know himmy lordeverybodyknows him; faith! I am very much concerned for him."

 "What is itpray?" says Lady Bellaston.

 "Whyhe hath killed a man this morning in a duelthat's all."

  Hislordshipwho was not in the secretasked gravelywhom hehadkilled? To which Edwards answered"A young fellow we none of usknow; aSomersetshire lad just came to townone Jones his name is;a nearrelation of one Mr. Allworthyof whom your lordship Ibelievehath heard. I saw the lad lie dead in a coffee-house.- Uponmy soulhe is one of the finest corpses I ever saw in my life!"

 Sophiawho had just began to deal as Tom had mentioned that a manwaskilledstopt her handand listened with attention (for allstories ofthat kind affected her)but no sooner had he arrived atthe latterpart of the story than she began to deal again; andhavingdealt three cards to oneand seven to anotherand ten to athirdatlast dropt the rest from her handand fell back in herchair.

  Thecompany behaved as usually on these occasions. The usualdisturbanceensuedthe usual assistance was summonedand Sophia atlastasit is usualreturned again to lifeand was soon afteratherearnest desireled to her own apartment; whereat my lord'srequestLady Bellaston acquainted her with the truthattempted tocarry itoff as a jest of her ownand comforted her with repeatedassurancesthat neither his lordship nor Tomthough she had taughthim thestorywere in the true secret of the affair.

 There was no farther evidence necessary to convince Lord Fellamarhow justlythe case had been represented to him by Lady Bellaston; andnowather return into the rooma scheme was laid between thesetwo noblepersonswhichthough it appeared in no very heinouslight tohis lordship (as he faithfully promisedand faithfullyresolvedtooto make the lady all the subsequent amends in hispower bymarriage)yet many of our readerswe doubt notwill seewith justdetestation.

  Thenext evening at seven was appointed for the fatal purposewhen LadyBellaston undertook that Sophia should be aloneand hislordshipshould be introduced to her. The whole family were to beregulatedfor the purposemost of the servants dispatched out ofthe house;and for Mrs. Honourwhoto prevent suspicionwas to beleft withher mistress till his lordship's arrivalLady Bellastonherselfwas to engage her in an apartment as distant as possiblefrom thescene of the intended mischiefand out of the hearing ofSophia.

 Matters being thus agreed onhis lordship took his leaveand herladyshipretired to resthighly pleased with a projectof whichshe had noreason to doubt the successand which promised soeffectuallyto remove Sophia from being any further obstruction to heramour withJonesby a means of which she should never appear to beguiltyeven if the fact appeared to the world; but this she made nodoubt ofpreventing by huddling up a marriageto which she thoughttheravished Sophia would easily be brought to consentand at whichall therest of her family would rejoice.

  Butaffairs were not in so quiet a situation in the bosom of theotherconspirator; his mind was tost in all the distracting anxiety sonoblydescribed by Shakespear-

    Between the acting of a dreadful thing
    And the first motionall the interim is
    Like a phantasmaor a hideous dream;
    The genius and the mortal instruments
    Are then in council; and the state of man
    Like to a little kingdomsuffers then
    The nature of an insurrection.--

 Though the violence of his passion had made him eagerly embracethe firsthint of this designespecially as it came from a relationof theladyyet when that friend to reflectiona pillowhadplaced theaction itself in all its natural black colours before hiseyeswithall the consequences which mustand those which mightprobablyattend ithis resolution began to abateor rather indeed togo over tothe other side; and after a long conflictwhich lasted awholenightbetween honour and appetitethe former at lengthprevailedand he determined to wait on Lady Bellastonand torelinquishthe design.

 Lady Bellaston was in bedthough very late in the morningandSophiasitting by her bedsidewhen the servant acquainted her thatLordFellamar was below in the parlour; upon which her ladyshipdesiredhim to stayand that she would see him presently; but theservantwas no sooner departed than poor Sophia began to intreat hercousin notto encourage the visits of that odious lord (so shecalledhimthough a little unjustly) upon her account. "I see hisdesign"said she; "for he made downright love to me yesterdaymorning;but as I am resolved never to admit itI beg your ladyshipnot toleave us alone together any moreand to order the servantsthatifhe inquires for meI may be always denied to him."

 "La! child" says Lady Bellaston"you country girlshave nothingbutsweethearts in your head; you fancy every man who is civil toyou ismaking love. He is one of the most gallant young fellowsabouttownand I am convinced means no more than a littlegallantry.Make love to you indeed! I wish with all my heart he wouldand youmust be an arrant mad woman to refuse him."

 "But I shall certainly be that mad woman" cries Sophia"Ihope hisvisitsshall not be intruded upon me."

  "Ochild!" said Lady Bellaston"you need not be so fearful;ifyouresolve to run away with that JonesI know no person who canhinderyou."

 "Upon my honourmadam" cries Sophia"your ladyshipinjures me.I willnever run away with any man; nor will I ever marry contraryto myfather's inclinations."

 "WellMiss Western" said the lady"if you are notin a humourto seecompany this morningyou may retire to your own apartment; forI am notfrightened at his lordshipand must send for him up intomydressing-room."

 Sophia thanked her ladyshipand withdrew; and presentlyafterwardsFellamar was admitted upstairs.

Chapter4
By whichit will appear how dangerous an advocate a lady is when sheappliesher eloquence to an ill purpose

 When Lady Bellaston heard the young lord's scruplesshe treatedthem withthe same disdain with which one of those sages of the lawcalledNewgate solicitorstreats the qualms of conscience in ayoungwitness. "My dear lord" said she"you certainly wantacordial. Imust send to Lady Edgely for one of her best drams. Fieupon it!have more resolution. Are you frightened by the word rape? Orare youapprehensive--? Well! if the story of Helen was modernIshouldthink it unnatural. I mean the behaviour of Parisnot thefondnessof the lady; for all women love a man of spirit. There isanotherstory of the Sabine ladies- and that tooI thank heavenisveryantient. Your lordshipperhapswill admire my reading; but Ithink Mr.Hook tells usthey made tolerable good wives afterwards.I fancyfew of my married acquaintance were ravished by theirhusbands."

"Naydear Lady Bellaston" cried he"don't ridiculeme inthismanner."

"Whymy good lord" answered she"doyou think womanin Englandwould not laugh at you in her heartwhatever prudery shemight wearin her countenance?-- You force me to use a strange kind oflanguageand to betray my sex most abominably; but I am contentedwithknowing my intentions are goodand that I am endeavouring toserve mycousin; for I think you will make her a husbandnotwithstandingthis; orupon my soulI would not even persuadeher tofling herself away upon an empty title. She should notupbraid mehereafter with having lost a man of spirit; for that hisenemiesallow this poor young fellow to be."

  Letthose who have had the satisfaction of hearing reflections ofthis kindfrom a wife or a mistressdeclare whether they are at allsweetenedby coming from a female tongue. Certain it isthey sunkdeeperinto his lordship than anything which Demosthenes or Cicerocould havesaid on the occasion.

 Lady Bellastonperceiving she had fired the young lord's pridebegan nowlike a true oratorto rouse other passions to itsassistance."My Lord" says shein a graver voice"you will bepleased torememberyou mentioned this matter to me first; for Iwould notappear to you in the light of one who is endeavouring to putoff mycousin upon you. Fourscore thousand pounds do not stand in needof anadvocate to recommend them."

"Nor doth Miss Western"said he"requireany recommendation from her fortune; forin my opinionnowoman everhad half her charms."

"Yesyesmy lord" replied theladylooking in the glassthere have been women with more thanhalf hercharmsI assure you; not that I need lessen her on thataccount:she is a most delicious girlthat's certain; and withinthese fewhours she will be in the arms of onewho surely doth notdeserveherthough I will give him his dueI believe he is truly aman ofspirit."

  "Ihope somadam" said my lord; "though I must own he dothnotdeserveher; forunless heaven or your ladyship disappoint mesheshallwithin that time be in mine."

 "Well spokenmy lord" answered the lady; "I promiseyou nodisappointmentshall happen from my side; and within this week I amconvincedI shall call your lordship my cousin in public."

  Theremainder of this scene consisted entirely of rapturesexcusesandcomplimentsvery pleasant to have heard from the parties; butratherdull when related at second hand. Herethereforeshall put anend tothis dialogueand hasten to the fatal hour when everything waspreparedfor the destruction of poor Sophia.

  Butthis being the most tragical matter in our whole historyweshalltreat it in a chapter by itself.

Chapter5
Containingsome matters which may affectand others which maysurprizethe reader

  Theclock had now struck sevenand poor Sophiaalone andmelancholysat reading a tragedy. It was the Fatal Marriage; andshe wasnow come to that part where the poor distrest Isabelladisposesof her wedding-ring.

 Here the book dropt from her handand a shower of tears ran downinto herbosom. In this situation she had continued a minutewhen thedooropenedand in came Lord Fellamar. Sophia started from herchair athis entrance; and his lordship advancing forwardsand makinga low bowsaid"I am afraidMiss WesternI break in upon youabruptly."

"Indeedmy lord" says she"I must own myself alittlesurprizedat this unexpected visit."

"If this visit be unexpectedmadam"answered Lord Fellamar"my eyes must have been very faithlessinterpretersof my heartwhen last I had the honour of seeing you;for surelyyou could not otherwise have hoped to detain my heart inyourpossessionwithout receiving a visit from its owner." Sophiaconfusedas she wasanswered this bombast (and very properly I think)with alook of inconceivable disdain. My lord then made another anda longerspeech of the same sort. Upon which Sophiatremblingsaid"AmI really to conceive your lordship to be out of your senses?Suremylordthere is no other excuse for such behaviour."

"I amindeedmadamin the situation you suppose" cries his lordship; "andsure youwill pardon the effects of a frenzy which you yourself haveoccasioned;for love hath so totally deprived me of reasonthat Iam scarceaccountable for any of my actions."

"Upon my wordmylord"saidSophia"I neither understand your words nor your behaviour."

"Sufferme thenmadam" cries he"at your feet to explain bothbylayingopen my soul to youand declaring that I doat on you to thehighestdegree of distraction. O most adorablemost divinecreature!what language can express the sentiments of my heart?"

"Idoassureyoumy lord" said Sophia"I shall not stay to hear anymore ofthis."

"Do not" cries he"think of leaving methuscruelly;could you know half the torments which I feelthat tenderbosom mustpity what those eyes have caused." Then fetching a deepsighandlaying hold of her handhe ran on for some minutes in astrainwhich would be little more pleasing to the reader than it wasto thelady; and at last concluded with a declaration"That if he wasmaster ofthe worldhe would lay it her feet." Sophia thenforciblypulling away her hand from hisanswered with much spirit"Ipromiseyousiryour world and its master I should spurn from mewith equalcontempt." She then offered to go; and Lord Fellamaragainlayinghold of her handsaid"Pardon memy beloved angelfreedomswhich nothing but despair could have tempted me totake.--Believe mecould I have had any hope that my title andfortuneneither of them inconsiderableunless when compared withyourworthwould have been acceptedI hadin the humblest mannerpresentedthem to your acceptance.- But I cannot lose you.- By heavenI willsooner part with my soul!- You areyou mustyou shall be onlymine."

"My lord" says she"I intreat you to desist from avainpursuit;forupon my honourI will never hear you on this subject.Let go myhandmy lord; for I am resolved to go from you this moment;nor will Iever see you more."

"Thenmadam" cries his lordship"Imust makethe best use of this moment; for I cannot livenor will Ilivewithout you."-

"What do you meanmy lord?" saidSophia; "I willraise thefamily."

"I have no fearmadam" answered he"butoflosingyouand that I am resolved to preventthe only way whichdespairpoints to me."- He then caught her in his arms: upon whichshescreamed so loudthat she must have alarmed some one to herassistancehad not Lady Bellaston taken care to remove all ears.

  Buta more lucky circumstance happened for poor Sophia; anothernoise nowbroke forthwhich almost drowned her cries; for now thewholehouse rang with"Where is she? D--n meI'll unkennel her thisinstant.Show me her chamberI say. Where is my daughter? I knowshe's inthe houseand I'll see her if she's above-ground. Show mewhere sheis."- At which last words the door flew openand in cameSquireWesternwith his parson and a set of myrmidons at his heels.

  Howmiserable must have been the condition of poor Sophiawhentheenraged voice of her father was welcome to her ears! Welcomeindeed itwasand luckily did he come; for it was the only accidentupon earthwhich could have preserved the peace of her mind from beingfor everdestroyed.

 Sophianotwithstanding her frightpresently knew her father'svoice; andhis lordshipnotwithstanding his passionknew the voiceof reasonwhich peremptorily assured himit was not now a time fortheperpetration of his villany. Hearingthereforethe voiceapproachand hearing likewise whose it was (for as the squire morethan onceroared forth the word daughterso Sophiain the midst ofherstrugglingcried out upon her father)he thought proper torelinquishhis preyhaving only disordered her handkerchiefand withhis rudelips committed violence on her lovely neck.

  Ifthe reader's imagination doth not assist meI shall never beable todescribe the situation of these two persons when Westerncame intothe room. Sophia tottered into a chairwhere she satdisorderedpalebreathlessbursting with indignation at LordFellamar;affrightedand yet more rejoicedat the arrival of herfather.

  Hislordship sat down near herthe bag of his wig hanging overone of hisshouldersthe rest of his dress being somewhat disorderedand rathera greater proportion of linen than is usual appearing athis bosom.As to the resthe was amazedaffrightedvexedandashamed.

  Asto Squire Westernhe happened at this time to be overtaken by anenemywhich very frequently pursuesand seldom fails to overtakemost ofthe country gentlemen in this kingdom. He wasliterallyspeakingdrunk; which circumstancetogether with his naturalimpetuositycould produce no other effect than his runningimmediatelyup to his daughterupon whom he fell foul with his tonguein themost inveterate manner; nayhe had probably committed violencewith hishandshad not the parson interposedsaying"For heaven'ssakesiranimadvert that you are in the house of a great lady. Letme beg youto mitigate your wrath; it should minister a fulness ofsatisfactionthat you have found your daughter; for as to revengeitbelongeth not unto us. I discern great contrition in thecountenanceof the young lady. I stand assuredif you will forgivehershewill repent her of all past offencesand return unto herduty."

  Thestrength of the parson's arms had at first been of moreservicethan the strength of his rhetoric. Howeverhis last wordswroughtsome effectand the squire answered"I'll forgee her ifshe wullha' un. If wot ha' unSophyI'll forgee thee all. Whydost untspeak? Shat ha' un! d--n meshat ha' un! Why dost untanswer?Was ever such a stubborn tuoad?"

 "Let me intreat yousirto be a little more moderate"said theparson;"you frighten the young lady sothat you deprive her of allpower ofutterance."

 "Power of mine a--" answered the squire. "You takeher part thenyou do? Apretty parsontrulyto side with an undutiful child!YesyesI will gee you a living with a pox. I'll gee un to the devilsooner."

  "Ihumbly crave your pardon" said the parson; "I assure yourworship Imeant no such matter."

  MyLady Bellaston now entered the roomand came up to the squirewho nosooner saw herthanresolving to follow the instructions ofhissisterhe made her a very civil bowin the rural mannerandpaid hersome of his best compliments. He then immediately proceededto hiscomplaintsand said"Theremy lady cousin; there standsthe mostundutiful child in the world; she hankers after a beggarlyrascaland won't marry one of the greatest matches in all Englandthat wehave provided for her."

 "Indeedcousin Western" answered the lady"I ampersuaded youwrong mycousin. I am sure she hath a better understanding. I amconvincedshe will not refuse what she must be sensible is so muchto heradvantage."

 This was a wilful mistake in Lady Bellastonfor she well knewwhom Mr.Western meant; though perhaps she thought he would easilybereconciled to his lordship's proposals.

  "Doyou hear there" quoth the squire"what her ladyship say?Allyourfamily are for the match. ComeSophybe a good girland bedutifuland make your father happy."

  "Ifmy death will make you happysir" answered Sophia"youwillshortly beso."

 "It's a lyeSophy; it's a d--n'd lyeand you know it"said thesquire.

 "IndeedMiss Western"' said Lady Bellaston"youinjure yourfather; hehath nothing in view but your interest in this match; and Iand allyour friends must acknowledge the highest honour done toyourfamily in the proposal."

 "Ayall of us" quoth the squire; "nayit was noproposal of mine.She knowsit was her aunt proposed it to me first.- ComeSophyoncemore letme beg you to be a good girland gee me your consentbeforeyour cousin."

 "Let me give him your handcousin" said the lady. "Itis thefashionnow-a-days to dispense with time and long courtships."

 "Pugh!" said the squire"what signifies time; won'tthey havetimeenough to court afterwards? People may court very well after theyhave beena-bed together."

  AsLord Fellamar was very well assured that he was meant by LadyBellastonsonever having heard nor suspected a word of Blifilhemade nodoubt of his being meant by the father. Coming upthereforeto the squirehe said"Though I have not the honoursirof beingpersonally known to youyetas I find I have thehappinessto have my proposals acceptedlet me intercedesirinbehalf ofthe young ladythat she may not be more solicited at thistime."

 "You intercedesir!" said the squire; "whywho thedevil are you?"

 "SirI am Lord Fellamar" answered he"and am thehappy man whom Ihope youhave done the honour of accepting for a son-in-law."

 "You are a son of a b--" replied the squire"for allyour lacedcoat. Youmy son-in-lawand be d--n'd to you!"

  "Ishall take more from yousirthan from any man" answered thelord; "butI must inform you that I am not used to hear suchlanguagewithout resentment."

 "Resent my a--" quoth the squire. "Don't think I amafraid of sucha fellowas thee art! because hast got a spit there dangling at thyside. Layby your spitand I'll give thee enough of meddling withwhat dothnot belong to thee. I'll teach you to father-in-law me. I'lllick thyjacket."

 "It's very wellsir" said my lord"I shall make nodisturbancebefore theladies. I am very well satisfied. Your humble servantsir;LadyBellastonyour most obedient."

  Hislordship was no sooner gonethan Lady Bellastoncoming up toMr.Westernsaid"Bless mesirwhat have you done? You know notwhom youhave affronted; he is a nobleman of the first rank andfortuneand yesterday made proposals to your daughter; and such asI am sureyou must accept with the highest pleasure."

 "Answer for yourselflady cousin" said the squire"Iwill havenothing todo with any of your lords. My daughter shall have an honestcountrygentleman; I have pitched upon one for her- and she shall ha'un.- I amsorry for the trouble she hath given your ladyship with allmy heart."Lady Bellaston made a civil speech upon the word trouble;to whichthe squire answered

"Whythat's kind- and I would do asmuch foryour ladyship. To be sure relations should do for oneanother.So I wish your ladyship a good night.- Comemadamyou mustgo alongwith me by fair meansor I'll have you carried down to thecoach."

 Sophia said she would attend him without force; but begged to goin achairfor she said she should not be able to ride any other way.

 "Prithee" cries the squire"wout unt persuade mecanst not ride ina coachwouldst? That's a pretty thing surely! NonoI'll never letthee outof my sight any more till art marriedthat I promisethee."Sophia told himshe saw he was resolved to break her heart. "Obreak thyheart and be d--n'd" quoth he"if a good husband willbreak it.I don't value a brass vardennot a halfpennyof anyundutifulb-- upon earth." He then took a violent hold of her hand;upon whichthe parson once more interferedbegging him to use gentlemethods.At that the squire thundered out a curseand bid the parsonhold histonguesaying"At'nt in pulpit now? when art a got up thereI nevermind what dost say; but I won't be priest-riddennor taughthow tobehave myself by thee. I wish your ladyship a good night. ComealongSophy; be a good girland all shall be well. Shat ha' und--n meshat ha' un!"

 Mrs. Honour appeared below-stairsand with a low curtesy to thesquireoffered to attend her mistress; but he pushed her awaysaying"Holdmadamholdyou come no more near my house."

"And will youtake mymaid away from me?" said Sophia. "YesindeedmadamwillI"cries thesquire: "you need not fear being without a servant; I willget youanother maidand a better maid than thiswhoI'd lay fivepounds toa crownis no more a maid than my grannum. NonoSophyshe shallcontrive no more escapesI promise you." He then packedup hisdaughter and the parson into the hackney coachafter whichhe mountedhimselfand ordered it to drive to his lodgings. In thewaythither he suffered Sophia to be quietand entertained himselfwithreading a lecture to the parson on good mannersand a properbehaviourto his betters.

  Itis possible he might not so easily have carried off hisdaughterfrom Lady Bellastonhad that good lady desired to havedetainedher; butin realityshe was not a little pleased with theconfinementinto which Sophia was going; and as her project withLordFellamar had failed of successshe was well contented that otherviolentmethods were now going to be used in favour of another man.

Chapter6
By whatmeans the squire came to discover his daughter

 Though the readerin many historiesis obliged to digest much moreunaccountableappearances than this of Mr. Westernwithout anysatisfactionat all; yetas we dearly love to oblige him wheneverit is inour powerwe shall now proceed to show by what method thesquirediscovered where his daughter was.

  Inthe third chapterthenof the preceding bookwe gave a hint(for it isnot our custom to unfold at any time more than is necessaryfor theoccasion) that Mrs. Fitzpatrickwho was very desirous ofreconcilingher uncle and aunt Westernthought she had a probableopportunityby the service of preserving Sophia from committing thesame crimewhich had drawn on herself the anger of her family. Aftermuchdeliberationthereforeshe resolved to inform her auntWesternwhere her cousin wasand accordingly she writ the followingletterwhich we shall give the reader at lengthfor more reasonsthan one.

 HONOURED MADAM

  Theoccasion of my writing this will perhaps make a letter of mineagreeableto my dear auntfor the sake of one of her niecesthough Ihavelittle reason to hope it will be so on the account of another.

 Without more apologyas I was coming to throw my unhappy self atyour feetI metby the strangest accident in the worldmy cousinSophywhose history you are better acquainted with than myselfthoughalas! I know infinitely too much; enough indeed to satisfy methatunless she is immediately preventedshe is in danger ofrunninginto the same fatal mischief whichby foolishly andignorantlyrefusing your most wise and prudent adviceI haveunfortunatelybrought on myself.

  InshortI have seen the mannayI was most Part of yesterdayin hiscompanyand a charming young fellow I promise you he is. Bywhataccident he came acquainted with me is too tedious to tell younow; but Ihave this morning changed my lodgings to avoid himlest heshould bymy means discover my cousin; for he doth not yet knowwhere sheisand it is adviseable he should nottill my uncle hathsecuredher.-- No time therefore is to be lost; and I need only informyouthatshe is now with Lady Bellastonwhom I have seenand whohathIfinda design of concealing her from her family. You knowmadamsheis a strange woman; but nothing could misbecome me morethan topresume to give any hint to one of your great understandingand greatknowledge of the worldbesides barely informing you ofthe matterof fact.

  Ihopemadamthe care which I have shewn on this occasion forthe goodof my familywill recommend me again to the favour of a ladywho hathalways exerted so much zeal for the honour and trueinterestof us all; and that it may be a means of restoring me to yourfriendshipwhich hath made so great a part of my formerand is sonecessaryto my future happiness.

                I am

                    with the utmost respect

                       honoured madam

                          your most dutiful obliged niece

                             and most obedient humble

                                servant

                                       HARRIET FITZPATRICK

 Mrs. Western was now at her brother's housewhere she had residedever sincethe flight of Sophiain order to administer comfort to thepoorsquire in his affliction. Of this comfortwhich she doled out tohim indaily portionswe have formerly given a specimen.

  Shewas now standing with her back to the fireandwith a pinch ofsnuff inher handdealing forth this daily allowance of comfort tothesquirewhile he smoaked his afternoon pipewhen she received theaboveletter; which she had no sooner read than she delivered it tohimsaying"Theresirthere is an account of your lost sheep.Fortunehath again restored her to youand if you will be governed bymy adviceit is possible you may yet preserve her."

  Thesquire had no sooner read the letter than he leaped from hischairthrew his pipe into the fireand gave a loud huzza for joy. Hethensummoned his servantscalled for his bootsand ordered theChevalierand several other horses to be saddledand that parsonSuppleshould be immediately sent for. Having done thishe turnedto hissistercaught her in his armsand gave her a close embracesaying"Zounds! you don't seem pleased; one would imagine you wassorry Ihave found the girl."

 "Brother" answered she"the deepest politicianswhosee to thebottomdiscover often a very different aspect of affairsfrom whatswims onthe surface. It is trueindeedthings do look rather lessdesperatethan they did formerly in Hollandwhen Lewis the Fourteenthwas at thegates of Amsterdam; but there is a delicacy required inthismatterwhich you will pardon mebrotherif I suspect you want.There is adecorum to be used with a woman of figuresuch as LadyBellastonbrotherwhich requires a knowledge of the worldsuperiorI amafraidto yours."

 "Sister" cries the squire"I know you have noopinion of my parts;but I'llshew you on this occasion who is a fool. Knowledgequotha! Ihave notbeen in the country so long without having some knowledgeofwarrants and the law of the land. I know I may take my own whereverI can findit. Shew me my own daughterand if I don't know how tocome atherI'll suffer you to call me a fool as long as I live.There bejustices of peace in Londonas well as in other places."

  "Iprotest" cries she"you make me tremble for the event ofthismatterwhichif you will proceed by my adviceyou may bring to sogood anissue. Do you really imaginebrotherthat the house of awoman offigure is to be attacked by warrants and brutal justices ofthe peace?I will inform you how to proceed. As soon as you arrivein townand have got yourself into a decent dress (for indeedbrotheryou have none at present fit to appear in)you must sendyourcompliments to Lady Bellastonand desire leave to wait on her.When youare admitted to her presenceas you certainly will beandhave toldher your storyand have made proper use of my name (for Ithink youjust know one another only by sightthough you arerelations)I am confident she will withdraw her protection from myniecewhohath certainly imposed upon her. This is the onlymethod.-Justices of peaceindeed! do you imagine any such event canarrive toa woman of figure in a civilised nation?"

 "D--n their figures" cries the squire; "a prettycivilised nationtrulywhere women are above the law. And what must I stand sendinga parcelof compliments to a confounded whorethat keeps away adaughterfrom her own natural father? I tell yousisterI am notsoignorant as you think me-- I know you would have women above thelawbutit is all a lye; I heard his lordship say at sizethat noone isabove the law. But this of yours is Hanover lawI suppose."

 "Mr. Western" said she"I think you daily improve inignorance.--I protest you are grown an arrant bear."

  "Nomore a bear than yourselfsister Western" said thesquire.

"Pox! you may talk of your civility an you willI am sureyou nevershow any to me. I am no bearnonor no dog neitherthoughI knowsomebodythat is something that begins with a b; but pox! Iwill showyou I have got more good manners than some folks."

 "Mr. Western" answered the lady"you may say whatyou pleasejevousmesprise de tout mon coeur.I shall not therefore beangry.--Besidesas my cousinwith that odious Irish namejustlysaysIhave that regard for the honour and true interest of myfamilyand that concern for my niecewho is a part of itthat Ihaveresolved to go to town myself upon this occasion; for indeedindeedbrother you are not a fit minister to be employed at apolitecourt.- Greenland- Greenland should always be the scene of thetramontanenegociation."

  "Ithank Heaven" cries the squire"I don't understand younow. Youare got toyour Hanoverian linguo. HoweverI'll shew you I scorn tobebehindhand in civility with you; and as you are not angry forwhat Ihave saidso I am not angry for what you have said. IndeedI havealways thought it a folly for relations to quarrel; and if theydo now andthen give a hasty wordwhypeople should give and take;for mypartI never bear malice; and I take it very kind of you to goup toLondon; for I never was there but twice in my lifeand then Idid notstay above a fortnight at a timeand to be sure I can't beexpectedto know much of the streets and the folks in that time. Ineverdenied that you know'd all these matters better than I. For meto disputethat would be all as one as for you to dispute themanagementof a pack of dogsor the finding a hare sittingwithme."

"Which I promise you" says she"I never will."

"Welland Ipromiseyou" returned he"that I never will dispute the t'other."

 Here then a league was struck (to borrow a phrase from the lady)betweenthe contending parties; and now the parson arrivingand thehorsesbeing readythe squire departedhaving promised his sister tofollow heradviceand she prepared to follow him the next day.

  Buthaving communicated these matters to the parson on the roadthey bothagreed that the prescribed formalities might very well bedispensedwith; and the squirehaving changed his mindproceededin themanner we have already seen.

Chapter7
In whichvarious misfortunes befel poor Jones

 Affairs were in the aforesaid situationwhen Mrs. Honour arrived atMrs.Miller'sand called Jones out from the companyas we havebeforeseenwith whomwhen she found herself aloneshe began asfollows:-

  "Omy dear sir! how shall I get spirits to tell you; you areundonesirand my poor lady's undoneand I am undone."

"Hathanythinghappened to Sophia?" cries Jonesstaring like a madman. "Allthat isbad" cries Honour: "OhI shall never get such anotherlady! Ohthat I should ever live to see this day!" At these wordsJonesturned pale as ashestrembledand stammered; but Honour wenton

"O!Mr. JonesI have lost my lady for ever."

"How? what! forHeaven'ssaketell me. Omy dear Sophia!"

"You may well call herso"said Honour; "she was the dearest lady to me. I shall neverhave suchanother place."-

"D--n your place!" cries Jones;"whereis- what-what is become of my Sophia?"

"Ayto be sure" criesshe"servantsmay be d--n'd. It signifies nothing what becomes of themthoughthey are turned awayand ruined ever so much. To be surethey arenot flesh and blood like other people. Noto be sureitsignifiesnothing what becomes of them."

"If you have any pityandcompassion"cries Jones"I beg you will instantly tell me whathathhappened to Sophia?"

"To be sureI have more pity for youthanyou havefor me" answered Honour; "I don't d--n you because youhavelost thesweetest lady in the world. To be sureyou are worthy tobe pitiedand I am worthy to be pitied too: forto be sureifever therewas a good mistress--"

"What hath happened?" criesJonesin almosta raving fit. "What?- What?" said Honour: "Whytheworstthat couldhave happened both for you and for me.- Her father is cometo townand hath carried ied away from us both." Here Jones fell onhis kneesin thanksgiving that it was no worse. "No worse!" repeatedHonour;"what could be worse for either of us? He carried her offswearingshe should marry Mr. Blifil; that's for your comfort; andfor poormeI am turned out of doors."

"IndeedMrs. Honour"answeredJones"you frightened me out of my wits. I imagined somemostdreadful sudden accident had happened to Sophia; somethingcomparedto whicheven seeing her married to Blifil would be atrifle;but while there is life there are hopesmy dear Honour.Womeninthis land of libertycannot be married by actual brutalforce."

"To be suresir" said shethat's true. There may be somehopes foryou; but alack-a-day! what hopes are there for poor me?And to besuresiryou must be sensible I suffer all this uponyouraccount. All the quarrel the squire hath to me is for taking yourpartas Ihave doneagainst Mr. Blifil."

"IndeedMrs. Honour"answeredhe"I am sensible of my obligations to youand will leavenothing inmy power undone to make you amends."

"Alas! sir" saidshe"whatcan make a servant amends for the loss of one place but thegettinganother altogether as good?"

"Do not despairMrs. Honour"saidJones"I hope to reinstate you again in the same."

"Alack-a-daysir" said she"how can I flatter myself with suchhopes whenI know it is a thing impossible? for the squire is so setagainstme: and yetif you should ever have my ladyas to be sure Inow hopesheartily you will; for you are a generousgood-naturedgentleman;and I am sure you loves herand to be sure she loves youas dearlyas her own soul; it is a matter in vain to deny it;because aswhyeverybodythat is in the least acquainted with myladymustsee it; forpoor dear ladyshe can't dissemble: and iftwo peoplewho loves one another a'n't happywhy who should be so?Happinessdon't always depend upon what people has; besidesmy ladyhas enoughfor both. To be surethereforeas one may sayit wouldbe all thepity in the world to keep two such loviers asunder; nayI amconvincedfor my partyou will meet together at last; forifit is tobethere is no preventing it. If a marriage is made inheavenall the justices of peace upon earth can't break it off. To besure Iwishes that parson Supple had but a little more spiritto tellthe squireof his wickedness in endeavouring to force his daughtercontraryto her liking; but then his whole dependance is on thesquire;and so the poor gentlemanthough he is a very religiousgood sortof manand talks of the badness of such doings behind thesquire'sbackyet he dares not say his soul is his own to his face.To be sureI never saw him make so bold as just now; I was afeardthe squirewould have struck him. I would not have your honour bemelancholysirnor despair; things may go betteras long as you aresure of myladyand that I am certain you may be; for she neverwill bebrought to consent to marry any other man. IndeedI amterriblyafeared the squire will do her a mischief in his passionforhe is aprodigious passionate gentleman; and I am afeared too the poorlady willbe brought to break her heartfor she is astender-heartedas a chicken. It is pitymethinksshe had not alittle ofmy courage. If I was in love with a young manand my fatheroffered tolock me upI'd tear his eyes out but I'd come at him;but thenthere's a great fortune in the casewhich it is in herfather'spower either to give her or not; thatto be suremay makesomedifference."

 Whether Jones gave strict attention to all the foregoing harangueor whetherit was for want of any vacancy in the discourseI cannotdetermine;but he never once attempted to answernor did she oncestop tillPartridge came running into the roomand informed himthat thegreat lady was upon the stairs.

 Nothing could equal the dilemma to which Jones was now reduced.Honourknew nothing of any acquaintance that subsisted between him andLadyBellastonand she was almost the last person in the world towhom hewould have communicated it. In this hurry and distresshetook (asis common enough) the worst courseandinstead ofexposingher to the ladywhich would have been of little consequencehe choseto expose the lady to her; he therefore resolved to hideHonourwhom he had but just time to convey behind the bedand todraw thecurtains.

  Thehurry in which Jones had been all day engaged on account ofhis poorlandlady and her familythe terrors occasioned by Mrs.Honourand the confusion into which he was thrown by the suddenarrival ofLady Bellastonhad altogether driven former thoughts outof hishead; so that it never once occurred to his memory to act thepart of asick man; whichindeedneither the gaiety of his dressnor thefreshness of his countenancewould have at all supported.

  Hereceived her ladyshipthereforerather agreeably to her desiresthan toher expectationswith all the good humour he could musterin hiscountenanceand without any real or affected appearance of theleastdisorder.

 Lady Bellaston no sooner entered the roomthan she squatted herselfdown onthe bed: "Somy dear Jones" said she"you findnothingcan detainme long from you. Perhaps I ought to be angry with youthat Ihave neither seen nor heard from you all day; for I perceiveyourdistemper would have suffered you to come abroad: nayIsupposeyou have not sat in your chamber all day drest up like afine ladyto see company after a lying-in; buthoweverdon't think Iintend toscold you; for I never will give you an excuse for thecoldbehaviour of a husbandby putting on the ill-humour of a wife."

 "NayLady Bellaston" said Jones"I am sure yourladyship will notupbraid mewith neglect of dutywhen I only waited for orders. Whomy dearcreaturehath reason to complain? Who missed anappointmentlast nightand left an unhappy man to expectandwishandsighand languish?"

  "Donot mention itmy dear Mr. Jones" cried she. "If you knewtheoccasionyou would pity me. In shortit is impossible toconceivewhat women of condition are obliged to suffer from theimpertinenceof foolsin order to keep up the farce of the world. Iam gladhoweverall your languishing and wishing have done you noharm; foryou never looked better in your life. Upon my faith!Jonesyoumight at this instant sit for the picture of Adonis."

 There are certain words of provocation which men of honour holdcanproperly be answered only by a blow. Among lovers possibly theremay besome expressions which can be answered only by a kiss. Nowthecompliment which Lady Bellaston now made Jones seems to be of thiskindespecially as it was attended with a lookin which the ladyconveyedmore soft ideas than it was possible to express with hertongue.

 Jones was certainly at this instant in one of the mostdisagreeableand distressed situations imaginable; forto carry onthecomparison we made use of beforethough the provocation was givenby theladyJones could not receive satisfactionnor so much asoffer toask itin the presence of a third person; seconds in thiskind ofduels not being according to the law of arms. As thisobjectiondid not occur to Lady Bellastonwho was ignorant of anyotherwoman being there but herselfshe waited some time in greatastonishmentfor an answer from Joneswhoconscious of theridiculousfigure he madestood at a distanceandnot daring togive theproper answergave none at all. Nothing can be imagined morecomicnoryet more tragicalthan this scene would have been if ithad lastedmuch longer. The lady had already changed colour two orthreetimes; had got up from the bed and sat down againwhile Joneswaswishing the ground to sink under himor the house to fall onhis headwhen an odd accident freed him from an embarrassmentout ofwhichneither the eloquence of a Ciceronor the politics of aMachiavelcould have delivered himwithout utter disgrace.

 This was no other than the arrival of young Nightingaledead drunk;or ratherin that state of drunkenness which deprives men of the useof theirreasonwithout depriving them of the use of their limbs.

 Mrs. Miller and her daughters were in bedand Partridge wassmoakinghis pipe by the kitchen fire; so that he arrived at Mr.Jones'schamber-door without any interruption. This he burst openandwasentering without any ceremonywhen Jones started from his scatand ran tooppose himwhich he did so effectuallythat Nightingalenever camefar enough within the door to see who was sitting on thebed.

 Nightingale had in reality mistaken Jones's apartment for that inwhichhimself had lodged; he therefore strongly insisted on coming inoftenswearing that he would not be kept from his own bed. Joneshoweverprevailed over himand delivered him into the hands ofPartridgewhom the noise on the stairs soon summoned to hismaster'sassistance.

  Andnow Jones was unwillingly obliged to return to his ownapartmentwhere at the very instant of his entrance he heard LadyBellastonventing an exclamationthough not a very loud one; and atthe sametime saw her flinging herself into a chair in a vastagitationwhich in a lady of tender constitution would have been anhystericfit.

  Inreality the ladyfrightened with the struggle between the twomenofwhich she did not know what would be the issueas she heardNightingaleswear many oaths he would come to his own bedattemptedto retireto her known place of hidingwhich to her great confusionshe foundalready occupied by another.

  "Isthis usage to be borneMr. Jones?" cries the lady.

"Basestofmen!--What wretch is this to whom you have exposed me?"

"Wretch!"criesHonourbursting in a violent rage from her place ofconcealment-

"Marry come up!-- Wretch forsooth?-- as poor a wretch asI amI amhonest; this is more than some folks who are richer cansay."

 Jonesinstead of applying himself directly to take off the edgeof Mrs.Honour's resentmentas a more experienced gallant wouldhave donefell to cursing his starsand lamenting himself as themostunfortunate man in the world; and presently afteraddressinghimself toLady Bellastonhe fell to some very absurd protestationsofinnocence. By this time the ladyhaving recovered the use of herreasonwhich she had as ready as any woman in the worldespeciallyon suchoccasionscalmly replied: "Siryou need make no apologiesIsee nowwho the person is; I did not at first know Mrs. Honour: butnow I doI can suspect nothing wrong between her and you; and I amsure sheis a woman of too good sense to put any wrong constructionsupon myvisit to you; I have been always her friendand it may bein mypower to be much more hereafter."

 Mrs. Honour was altogether as placable as she was passionate.HearingthereforeLady Bellaston assume the soft toneshelikewisesoftened hers.--"I'm suremadam" says she"I havebeenalwaysready to acknowledge your ladyship's friendships to me; sureI neverhad so good a friend as your ladyship-- and to be surenow Isee it isyour ladyship that I spoke toI could almost bite my tongueoff forvery mad.- I constructions upon your ladyship-to be sure itdoth notbecome a servant as I am to think about such a great lady- Imean I wasa servant: for indeed I am nobody's servant nowthe moremiserablewretch is me.- I have lost the best mistress--" Here Honourthoughtfit to produce a shower of tears.

"Don't crychild" saysthe goodlady; "ways perhaps may be found to make you amends. Come tometo-morrow morning." She then took up her fan which lay on thegroundand without even looking at Joneswalked very majesticallyout of theroom; there being a kind of dignity in the impudence ofwomen ofqualitywhich their inferiors vainly aspire to attain to incircumstancesof this nature.

 Jones followed her downstairsoften offering her his handwhichsheabsolutely refused himand got into her chair without takingany noticeof himas he stood bowing before her.

  Athis return upstairsa long dialogue past between him and Mrs.Honourwhile she was adjusting herself after the discomposure she hadundergone.The subject of this was his infidelity to her young lady;on whichshe enlarged with great bitterness; but Jones at last foundmeans toreconcile herand not only sobut to obtain a promise ofmostinviolable secrecyand that she would the next morning endeavourto findout Sophiaand bring him a further account of the proceedingsof thesquire.

 Thus ended this unfortunate adventure to the satisfaction only ofMrs.Honour; for a secret (as some of my readers will perhapsacknowledgefrom experience) is often a very valuable possession:and thatnot only to those who faithfully keep itbut sometimes tosuch aswhisper it about till it come to the ears of every oneexcepttheignorant person who pays for the supposed concealing of what ispublicklyknown.

Chapter8
Short andsweet

 Nothwithstanding all the obligations she had received from JonesMrs.Miller could not forbear in the morning some gentle for thehurricanewhich had happened the preceding night in his chamber. Thesewerehoweverso gentle and so friendlyprofessingand indeedtrulytoaim at nothing more than the real good of Mr. Jones himselfthat hefar from being offendedthankfully received the admonitionof thegood womanexpressed much concern for what had pastexcusedit aswellas he couldand promised never more to bring the samedisturbancesinto the house.

  Butthough Mrs. Miller did not refrain from a short expostulation inprivate attheir first meetingyet the occasion of his being summoneddownstairsthat morning was of a more agreeable kindbeing indeedto performthe office of a father to Miss Nancyand to give her inwedlock toMr. Nightingalewho was now ready drestand full as soberas many ofmy readers will think a man ought to be who receives a wifein soimprudent a manner.

  Andhere perhaps it may be proper to account for the escape whichthis younggentleman had made from his uncleand for his appearancein thecondition in which we have seen him the night before.

  Nowwhen the uncle had arrived at his lodgings with his nephewpartly toindulge his own inclinations (for he dearly loved hisbottle)and partly to disqualify his nephew from the immediateexecutionof his purposehe ordered wine to be set on the table; withwhich heso briskly plyed the young gentlemanthat this latterwhothough not much used to drinkingdid not detest it so as to beguilty ofdisobedience or want of complacence by refusingwas sooncompletelyfinished.

 Just as the uncle had obtained this victoryand was preparing a bedfor hisnephewa messenger arrived with a piece of newswhich soentirelydisconcerted and shocked himthat he in a moment lost allconsiderationfor his nephewand his whole mind became entirely takenup withhis own concerns.

 This sudden and afflicting news was no less than that his daughterhad takenthe opportunity of almost the first moment of his absenceand hadgone off with a neighbouring young clergyman; against whomthough herfather could have had but one objectionnamelythat hewas worthnothingyet she had never thought proper to communicate heramour evento that father; and so artfully had she managedthat ithad neverbeen once suspected by anytill now that it wasconsummated.

  OldMr. Nightingale no sooner received this accountthan in theutmostconfusion he ordered a post-chaise to be instantly got readyandhaving recommended his nephew to the care of a servanthedirectlyleft the housescarce knowing what he didnor whither hewent.

  Theuncle thus departedwhen the servant came to attend thenephew tobedhad waked him for that purposeand had at last madehimsensible that his uncle was goneheinstead of accepting thekindoffices tendered himinsisted on a chair being called; with thistheservantwho had received no strict orders to the contraryreadilycomplied; andthus being conducted back to the house ofMrs.Millerhe had staggered up to Mr. Jones's chamberas hathbeenbefore recounted.

 This bar of the uncle being now removed (though young Nightingaleknew notas yet in what manner)and all parties being quicklyreadythemotherMr. JonesMr. Nightingaleand his lovesteptinto ahackney-coachwhich conveyed them to Doctors' Commons; whereMiss Nancywasin vulgar languagesoon made an honest womanand thepoormother becamein the purest sense of the wordone of thehappiestof all human beings.

  Andnow Mr. Joneshaving seen his good offices to that poor womanand herfamily brought to a happy conclusionbegan to apply himselfto his ownconcerns; but herelest many of my readers shouldcensurehis folly for thus troubling himself with the affairs ofothersand lest some few should think he acted more disinterestedlythanindeed he didwe think proper to assure our readerthat hewas so farfrom being unconcerned in this matterthat he had indeed averyconsiderable interest in bringing it to that final consummation.

  Toexplain this seeming paradox at oncehe was one who couldtruly saywith him in TerenceHomo sum: humani nihil a mealienumputo.He was never an indifferent spectator of the misery orhappinessof any one; and he felt either the one or the other ingreaterproportion as he himself contributed to either. He couldnotthereforebe the instrument of raising a whole family from theloweststate of wretchedness to the highest pitch of joy withoutconveyinggreat felicity to himself; moreperhapsthan worldly menoftenpurchase to themselves by undergoing the most severe labourandoften bywading through the deepest iniquity.

 Those readers who are of the same complexion with him willperhapsthink thisshort chapter contains abundance of matter; while othersmayprobably wishshort as it isthat it had been totally sparedasimpertinent to the main designwhich I suppose they conclude is tobring Mr.Jones to the gallowsorif possibleto a moredeplorablecatastrophe.

Chapter9
Containinglove-letters of several sorts

  Mr.Jonesat his return homefound the following letters lyingon histablewhich he luckily opened in the order they were sent.

                                LETTER I

 Surely I am under some strange infatuation; I cannot keep myresolutionsa momenthowever strong made or justly founded. Lastnight Iresolved never to see you more; this morning I am willing tohear ifyou canas you sayclear up this affair. And yet I know thatto beimpossible. I have said everything to myself which you caninvent.--Perhaps not. Perhaps your invention is stronger. Come to methereforethe moment you receive this. If you can forge an excuseI almostpromise you to believe it. Betrayed too- I will think nomore.--Come to me directly.-- This is the third letter I have writthe twoformer are burnt-- I am almost inclined to burn this too-Iwish I maypreserve senses.-- Come to me presently.

                               LETTER II

  Ifyou ever expect to be forgivenor even suffered within my doorscome to methis instant.

                               LETTER III

  Inow find you was not at home when my notes came to yourlodgings.The moment you receive this let me see you;-- I shall notstir out;nor shall anybody be let in but yourself. Sure nothing candetain youlong.

 Jones had just read over these three billetswhen Mr. Nightingalecame intothe room. "WellTom" said he"any news from LadyBellastonafter last night's adventure?" (for it was now no secret toany one inthat house who the lady was). "The Lady Bellaston?"answeredJones very gravely.-

"Naydear Tom" cries Nightingale"don'tbe so reserved to your friends. Though I was too drunk to seeher lastnightI saw her at the masquerade. Do you think I amignorantwho the queen of the fairies is?"

"And did you really thenknow thelady at the masquerade?" said Jones. "Yesupon my souldid I"said Nightingale"and have given you twenty hints of itsincethough you seemed always so tender on that pointthat Iwould notspeak plainly. I fancymy friendby your extreme nicety inthismatteryou are not so well acquainted with the character ofthe ladyas with her person. Don't be angryTombut upon myhonouryou are not the first young fellow she hath debauched. Herreputationis in no dangerbelieve me."

 Though Jones had no reason to imagine the lady to have been of thevestalkind when his amour began; yetas he was thoroughly ignorantof thetownand had very little acquaintance in ithe had noknowledgeof that character which is vulgarly called a demirep; thatis to saya woman who intrigues with every man she likesunder thename andappearance of virtue; and whothough some overnice ladieswill notbe seen with heris visited (as they term it) by the wholetowninshortwhom everybody knows to be what nobody calls her.

 When he foundthereforethat Nightingale was perfectlyacquaintedwith his intrigueand began to suspect that soscrupulousa delicacy as he had hitherto observed was not quitenecessaryon the occasionhe gave a latitude to his friend'stongueand desired him to speak plainly what he knewor had everheard ofthe lady.

 Nightingalewhoin many other instanceswas rather too effeminatein hisdispositionhad a pretty strong inclination totittle-tattle.He had no soonerthereforereceived a full liberty ofspeakingfrom Jonesthan he entered upon a long narrativeconcerningthe lady; whichas it contained many particulars highly toherdishonourwe have too great a tenderness for all women ofconditionto repeat. We would cautiously avoid giving an opportunityto thefuture commentators on our worksof making any maliciousapplicationand of forcing us to beagainst our willthe authorofscandalwhich never entered into our head.

 Joneshaving very attentively heard all that Nightingale had tosayfetched a deep sigh; which the otherobservingcried"Heyday!whythou art not in loveI hope! Had I imagined mystorieswould have affected youI promise you should never have heardthem."

"O my dear friend!" cries Jones"I am so entangledwith thiswomanthat I know not how to extricate myself. In loveindeed! nomy friendbut I am under obligations to herand very great ones.Since youknow so muchI will be very explicit with you. It is owingperhapssolely to herthat I have notbefore thiswanted a bitof bread.How can I possibly desert such a woman? and yet I mustdesertheror be guilty of the blackest treachery to one who deservesinfinitelybetter of me than she can; a womanmy Nightingaleforwhom Ihave a passion which few can have an idea of. I am halfdistractedwith doubts how to act."

"And is this otherprayanhonourablemistress?" cries Nightingale. "Honourable!" answeredJones;"nobreath ever yet durst sully her reputation. The sweetest air isnot purerthe limpid stream not clearerthan her honour. She isall overboth in mind and bodyconsummate perfection. She is themostbeautiful creature in the universe: and yet she is mistress ofsuch nobleelevated qualitiesthatthough she is never from mythoughtsI scarce ever think of her beauty but when I see it."

"Andcan youmy good friend" cries Nightingale"with such anengagementas this upon your handshesitate a moment about quittingsuch a-"

"Hold" said Jones"no more abuse of her: I detestthethought ofingratitude."

"Pooh!" answered the other"youare notthe firstupon whom she hath conferred obligations of this kind. Sheisremarkably liberal where she likes; thoughlet me tell youherfavoursare so prudently bestowedthat they should rather raise aman'svanity than his gratitude." In shortNightingale proceeded sofar onthis headand told his friend so many stories of the ladywhich heswore to the truth ofthat he entirely removed all esteemfor herfrom the breast of Jones; and his gratitude was lessened inproportion.Indeedhe began to look on all the favours he hadreceivedrather as wages than benefitswhich depreciated not onlyherbuthimself too in his own conceitand put him quite out ofhumourwith both. From this digusthis mindby a natural transitionturnedtowards Sophia; her virtueher purityher love to himhersufferingson his accountfilled all his thoughtsand made hiscommercewith Lady Bellaston appear still more odious. The result ofall wasthatthough his turning himself out of her servicein whichlight henow saw his affair with herwould be the loss of hisbread; yethe determined to quit herif he could but find ahandsomepretence: which being communicated to his friendNightingaleconsidereda littleand then said"I have itmy boy! I have foundout a suremethod; propose marriage to herand I would venturehangingupon the success."

"Marriage?" cries Jones. "Ayproposemarriage"answered Nightingale"and she will declare off in amoment. Iknew a young fellow whom she kept formerlywho made theoffer toher in earnestand was presently turned off for his pains."

 Jones declared he could not venture the experiment. "Perhaps"said he"she may be less shocked at this proposal from one man thanfromanother. And if she should take me at my wordwhere am I then?caught inmy own trapand undone for ever."

"No" answeredNightingale"not if I can give you an expedient by which you may atany timeget out of the trap."-

"What expedient can that be?"repliedJones."This" answered Nightingale. "The young fellow Imentionedwho is oneof the most intimate acquaintances I have in the worldis soangry with her for some ill offices she hath since done himthat I amsure he wouldwithout any difficultygive you a sight ofherletters; upon which you may decently break with her; and declareoff beforethe knot is tiedif she should really be willing to tieitwhichI am convinced she will not."

 After some hesitationJonesupon the strength of this assuranceconsented;butas he swore he wanted the confidence to propose thematter toher facehe wrote the following letterwhich Nightingaledictated:-

 MADAM

  Iam extremely concernedthatby an unfortunate engagement abroadI shouldhave missed receiving the honour of your ladyship'scommandsthe moment they came; and the delay which I must now sufferofvindicating myself to your ladyship greatly adds to thismisfortune.OLady Bellaston! what a terror have I been inforfear yourreputation should be exposed by these perverse accidents!There isone only way to secure it. I need not name what that is. Onlypermit meto saythat as your honour is as dear to me as my ownsomy soleambition is to have the glory of laying my liberty at yourfeet; andbelieve me when I assure youI can never be made completelyhappywithout you generously bestow on me a legal right of callingyou minefor ever.- I am

                                   madam

                           with most profound respect

                              your ladyship's most obliged

                                 obedienthumble servant

                                                  THOMAS JONES

  Tothis she presently returned the following answer:

 SIR

 When I read over your serious epistleI couldfrom its coldnessandformalityhave sworn that you already had the legal right youmention;naythat we had for many years composed that monstrousanimal ahusband and wife. Do you really then imagine me a fool? or doyou fancyyourself capable of so entirely persuading me out of mysensesthat I should deliver my whole fortune into your powerinorder toenable you to support your pleasures at my expense? Are thesethe proofsof love which I expected? Is this the return for--? but Iscorn toupbraid youand am in great admiration of your Profoundrespect.

 P.S. I am prevented from revising:-- Perhaps I have said more than Imeant.--Come to me at eight this evening.

 Jonesby the advice of his privy-councilreplied:

 MADAM

  Itis impossible to express how much I am shocked at the suspicionyouentertain of me. Can Lady Bellaston have conferred favours on aman whomshe could believe capable of so base a design? or can shetreat themost solemn tie of love with contempt? Can you imaginemadamthat if the violence of my passionin an unguarded momentovercamethe tenderness which I have for your honourI would think ofindulgingmyself in the continuance of an intercourse which couldnotpossibly escape long the notice of the world; and whichwhendiscoveredmust prove so fatal to your reputation? If such be youropinion ofmeI must pray for a sudden opportunity of returning thosepecuniaryobligationswhich I have been so unfortunate to receiveat yourhands; and for those of a more tender kindI shall everremain&c. And so concluded in the very words with which he hadconcludedthe former letter.

  Thelady answered as follows:

  Isee you are a villain! and I despise you from my soul. If you comehere Ishall not be at home.

 Though Jones was well satisfied with his deliverance from a thraldomwhichthose who have ever experienced it willI apprehendallow tobe none ofthe lightesthe was nothoweverperfectly easy in hismind.There was in this scheme too much of fallacy to satisfy onewhoutterly detested every species of falshood or dishonesty: norwould heindeedhave submitted to put it in practicehad he notbeeninvolved in a distressful situationwhere he was obliged to beguilty ofsome dishonoureither to the one lady or the other; andsurely thereader will allowthat every good principleas well aslovepleaded strongly in favour of Sophia.

 Nightingale highly exulted in the success of his stratagemuponwhich hereceived many thanks and much applause from his friend. Heanswered"Dear Tomwe have conferred very different obligations oneachother. To me you owe the regaining your liberty; to you I owe theloss ofmine. But if you are as happy in the one instance as I am inthe otherI promise you we are the two happiest fellows in England."

  Thetwo gentlemen were now summoned down to dinnerwhere Mrs.Millerwho performed herself the office of cookhad exerted her besttalents tocelebrate the wedding of her daughter. This joyfulcircumstanceshe ascribed principally to the friendly behaviour ofJones; herwhole soul was fired with gratitude towards himand allher lookswordsand actionswere so busied in expressing itthatherdaughterand even her new son-in-lawwere very little objects ofherconsideration.

 Dinner was just ended when Mrs. Miller received a letter; but aswe havehad letters enow in this chapterwe shall communicate itscontentsin our next.

Chapter10
Consistingpartly of factsand partly of observations upon them

  Theletterthenwhich arrived at the end of the precedingchapterwas from Mr. Allworthyand the purport of it washisintentionto come immediately to townwith his nephew Blifiland adesire tobe accommodated with his usual lodgingswhich were thefirstfloor for himselfand the second for his nephew.

  Thechearfulness which had before displayed itself in thecountenanceof the poor woman was a little clouded on his occasion.This newsdid indeed a good deal disconcert her. To requite sodisinteresteda match with her daughterby presently turning hernewson-in-law out of doorsappeared to her very unjustifiable on theone hand;and on the othershe could scarce bear the thoughts ofmaking anyexcuse to Mr. Allworthyafter all the obligations receivedfrom himfor depriving him of lodgings which were indeed strictly hisdue; forthat gentlemanin conferring all his numberless benefitson othersacted by a rule diametrically opposite to what is practisedby mostgenerous people. He contrivedon all occasionsto hide hisbeneficencenot only from the worldbut even from the object ofit. Heconstantly used the words Lend and Payinstead of Give; and byeveryother method he could inventalways lessened with his tonguethefavours he conferredwhile he was heaping them with both hands.When hesettled the annuity of L50 a year therefore on Mrs. Millerhetold her"it was in consideration of always having her first-floorwhen hewas in town (which he scarce ever intended to be)but thatshe mightlet it at any other timefor that he would always sendher amonth's warning." He was nowhoweverhurried to town sosuddenlythat he had no opportunity of giving such notice; and thishurryprobably prevented himwhen he wrote for his lodgingsaddingifthey were then empty; for he would most certainly have beenwellsatisfied to have relinquished themon a less sufficientexcusethan what Mrs. Miller could now have made.

  Butthere are a sort of personswhoas Prior excellently wellremarksdirect their conduct by something

    Beyond the fix'd and settled rules
    Of vice and virtue in the schools
    Beyond the letter of the law.

  Tothese it is so far from being sufficient that their defence wouldacquitthem at the Old Baileythat they are not even contentedthoughconsciencethe severest of all judgesshould dischargethem.Nothing short of the fair and honourable will satisfy thedelicacyof their minds; and if any of their actions fall short ofthis markthey mope and pineare as uneasy and restless as amurdererwho is afraid of a ghostor of the hangman.

 Mrs. Miller was one of these. She could not conceal her uneasinessat thisletter; with the of which she had no sooner acquainted thecompanyand given some hints of her distressthan Jonesher goodangelpresently relieved her anxiety. "As for myselfmadam' saidhe"mylodging is at your service at a moment's warning; and Mr.NightingaleI am sureas he cannot yet prepare a house fit toreceivehis ladywill consent to return to his new lodgingwhitherMrs.Nightingale will certainly consent to go." With which proposalbothhusband and wife agreed.

  Thereader will easily believethat the cheeks of Mrs. Miller beganagain toglow with additional gratitude to Jones; butperhapsit maybe moredifficult to persuade himthat Mr. Jones having in his lastspeechcalled her daughter Mrs. Nightingale (it being the first timethatagreeable sound had ever reached her ears)gave the fondmothermore satisfactionand warmed her heart more towards Jonesthan hishaving dissipated her present anxiety.

  Thenext day was then appointed for the removal of the new-marriedcoupleand of Mr. Joneswho was likewise to be provided for in thesame housewith his friend. And now the serenity of the company wasagainrestoredand they past the day in the utmost chearfulnessall exceptJoneswhothough he outwardly accompanied the rest intheirmirthfelt many a bitter pang on the account of his Sophiawhich werenot a little heightened by the news of Mr. Blifil'scoming totown for he clearly saw the intention of his journey); andwhatgreatly aggravated his concern wasthat Mrs. Honourwho hadpromisedto inquire after Sophiaand to make her report to himearly thenext eveninghad disappointed him.

  Inthe situation that he and his mistress were in at this timethere werescarce any grounds for him to hope that he should hearany goodnews; yet he was as impatient to see Mrs. Honour as if he hadexpectedshe would bring him a letter with an assignation in it fromSophiaand bore the disappointment as ill. Whether this impatiencearose fromthat natural weakness of the human mindwhich makes itdesirousto know the worstand renders uncertainty the mostintolerableof pains; or whether he still flattered himself withsomesecret hopeswe will not determine. But that it might be thelastwhoever has loved cannot but know. For of all the powersexercisedby this passion over our mindsone of the most wonderful isthat ofsupporting hope in the midst of despair. Difficultiesimprobabilitiesnayimpossibilitiesare quite overlooked by it;so that toany man extremely in lovemay be applied what Addison saysof Caesar

    The Alpsand Pyrenaeanssink before him!

Yet it isequally truethat the same passion will sometimes makemountainsof molehillsand produce despair in the midst of hope;but thesecold fits last not long in good constitutions. WhichtemperJones was now inwe leave the reader to guesshaving no exactinformationabout it; but this is certainthat he had spent two hoursinexpectationwhenbeing unable any longer to conceal hisuneasinesshe retired to his room; where his anxiety had almostmade himfrantickwhen the following letter was brought him from Mrs.Honourwith which we shall present the reader verbatim et literatim.

 SIR

  Ishud sartenly haf kaled on you a cordin too mi prommiss hadduntitt binthat hur lashipp prevent mee; for to bee surSiryou nosevery wellthat evere persun must luk furst at omeand sartenly suchanutheroffar mite not have ever hapnedso as I shud ave bin justlyto blamhad I not excepted of it when her lashipp was so veri kind asto offarto mak mee hur one uman without mi ever askin any such thingto be surshee is won of thee best ladis in thee wurldand pepilwho saseto the kontrari must bee veri wiket pepil in thare harts.To bee surif ever I ave sad any thing of that kine it as bin thruignorensand I am hartili sorri for it. I nose your onur to be agenteelmanof more onur and onestyif I ever said ani such thingto repeteit to hurt a pore servant that as alwais add thee gratestrespect inthee wurld for ure onur. To be sur won shud kepe wonstungwithin wons teethfor no boddi nose what may hapen; and to beesur if aniboddi ad tolde mee yesterdaythat I shud haf ben in so guda plase todayI shud not haf beleeved it; for to be sur I neverwas adremd of an); such thingnor shud I ever have soft after aniotherbodi's plase; but as her lashipp wass so kine of her one acord toogive it mee without askinto be sur Mrs. Etoff herselfnor noother boddi can blam mee for exceptin such a thing when it falsin miwaye. I beg ure Onur not to menshion ani thing of what I hafsadfor Iwish ure Onur all thee gud luk in the wurld; and I don'tcuestionbutt thatt u will haf Madam Sofia in the end; butt ass tomiself ureonur nose I kant bee of ani farder sarvis to u in thatmatarnoubein under thee cumand off anuther parsonand note onemistressI begg ure Onur to say nothing of what pastand belive meto besirure Onur's umble servant to cumand till deth

                                               HONOUR BLACKMORE

 Various were the conjectures which Jones entertained on this step ofLadyBellaston; whoin realityhad little farther design than tosecurewithin her own house the repository of a secretwhich shechoseshould make no farther progress than it had made already; butmostlyshe desired to keep it from the ears of Sophia; for thoughthat younglady was almost the only one who would never haverepeatedit againher ladyship could not persuade herself of this;sinceasshe now hated poor Sophia with most implacable hatredsheconceiveda reciprocal hatred to herself to be lodged in the tenderbreast ofour heroinewhere no such passion had ever yet found anentrance.

 While Jones was terrifying himself with the apprehension of athousanddreadful machinationsand deep political designswhich heimaginedto be at the bottom of the promotion of HonourFortunewhohitherto seems to have been an utter enemy to his match withSophiatried a new method to put a final end to itby throwing atemptationin his waywhich in his present desperate situation itseemedunlikely he should be able to resist.

Chapter11
Containingcuriousbut not unprecedented matter

 There was a ladyone Mrs. Huntwho had often seen Jones at thehousewhere he lodgedbeing intimately acquainted with the womenthereandindeed a very great friend to Mrs. Miller. Her age wasaboutthirtyfor she owned six-and-twenty; her face and person verygoodonlyinclining a little too much to be fat. She had been marriedyoung byher relations to an old Turkey merchantwhohaving got agreatfortunehad left off trade. With him she lived withoutreproachbut not without painin a state of great self-denialforabouttwelve years; and her virtue was rewarded by his dying andleavingher very rich. The first year of her widowhood was just atan endand she had past it in a good deal of retirementseeingonly a fewparticular friendsand dividing her time between herdevotionsand novelsof which she was always extremely fond. Verygoodhealtha very warm constitutionand a good deal of religionmade itabsolutely necessary for her to marry again; and sheresolvedto please herself in her second husbandas she had doneherfriends in the first. From her the following billet was brought toJones:-

 SIR

 From the first day I saw youI doubt my eyes have told you tooplainlythat you were not indifferent to me; but neither my tongue normy handshould have ever avowed ithad not the ladies of the familywhere youare lodged given me such a character of youand told mesuchproofs of your virtue and goodnessas convince me you are notonly themost agreeablebut the most worthy of men. I have also thesatisfactionto hear from themthat neither my personunderstandingorcharacterare disagreeable to you. I have a fortune sufficientto make usboth happybut which cannot make me so without you. Inthusdisposing of myselfI know I shall incur the censure of theworld; butif I did not love you more than I fear the worldIshould notbe worthy of you. One only difficulty stops me; I aminformedyou are engaged in a commerce of gallantry with a woman offashion.If you think it worth while to sacrifice that to thepossessionof meI am yours; if notforget my weaknessand let thisremain aneternal secret between you and

                                                 ARABELLA HUNT

  Atthe reading of thisJones was put into a violent flutter. Hisfortunewas then at a very low ebbthe source being stopt fromwhichhitherto he had been supplied. Of all he had received fromLadyBellastonnot above five guineas remained; and that very morninghe hadbeen dunned by a tradesman for twice that sum. His honourablemistresswas in the hands of her fatherand he had scarce any hopesever toget her out of them again. To be subsisted at her expensefrom thatlittle fortune she had independent of her fatherwentmuchagainst the delicacy both of his pride and his love. Thislady'sfortune would have been exceeding convenient to himand hecould haveno objection to her in any respect. On the contraryheliked heras well as he did any woman except Sophia. But to abandonSophiaand marry anotherthat was impossible; he could not thinkof it uponany account. Yet why should he notsince it was plainshe couldnot be his? Would it not be kinder to herthan tocontinuelonger engaged to a hopeless passion for him? Ought he not todo so infriendship to her? This notion prevailed some momentsand hehad almostdetermined to be false to her from a high point ofhonour:but that refinement was not able to stand very long againstthe voiceof naturewhich cried in his heart that such friendship wastreason tolove. At last he called for peninkand paperand writas followsto Mrs. Hunt:-

 MADAM

  Itwould be but a poor return to the favour have done me tosacrificeany gallantry to the possession of youand I wouldcertainlydo itthough I were not disengagedas at present I amfrom anyaffair of that kind. But I should not be the honest man youthink meif I did not tell you that my affections are engaged toanotherwho is a woman of virtueand one that I never can leavethough itis probable I shall never possess her. God forbid thatinreturn ofyour kindness to meI should do you such an injury as togive youmy hand when I cannot give my heart. No; I had much ratherstarvethan be guilty of that. Even though my mistress were married toanotherIwould not marry you unless my heart had entirely effacedallimpressions of her. Be assured that your secret was not moresafe inyour own breastthan in that of your most obligedandgratefulhumble servant

                                              T. JONES

 When our heroe had finished and sent this letterhe went to hisscrutoretook out Miss Western's muffkissed it several timesandthenstrutted some turns about his roomwith more satisfaction ofmind thanever any Irishman felt in carrying off a fortune of fiftythousandpounds.

Chapter12
Adiscovery made by Partridge

 While Jones was exulting in the consciousness of his integrityPartridgecame capering into the roomas was his custom when hebroughtor fancied he broughtany good tidings. He had beendispatchedthat morning by his masterwith orders to endeavourbytheservants of Lady Bellastonor by any other meansto discoverwhitherSophia had been conveyed; and he now returnedand with ajoyfulcountenance told our heroe that he had found the lost bird."Ihave seensir" says he"Black Georgethe gamekeeperwho is oneof theservants whom the squire hath brought with him to town. Iknew himpresentlythough I have not seen him these several years;but youknowsirhe is a very remarkable manorto use a purerphrasehehath a most remarkable beardthe largest and blackest Iever saw.It was some timehoweverbefore Black George couldrecollectme."

"Wellbut what is your good news?" cries Jones;"whatdo you know of my Sophia?"

"You shall know presentlysir"answeredPartridge"I am coming to it as fast as I can. You are soimpatientsiryou would come at the infinitive mood before you canget to theimperative. As I was sayingsirit was some time beforeherecollected my face."

"Confound your face!" criesJones"what ofmySophia?"

"Naysir" answered Partridge"I knownothing more ofMadamSophia than what I am going to tell you; and I should havetold youall before this if you had not interrupted me; but if youlook soangry at meyou will frighten all of it out of my headorto use apurer phraseout of my memory. I never saw you look so angrysince theday we left Uptonwhich I shall remember if I was to live athousandyears."-

"Wellpray go on your own way" said Jones:"youareresolved to make me madI find."

"Not for the world"answeredPartridge"I have suffered enough for that already; whichas I saidI shallbear in my remembrance the longest day I have to live."

"Wellbut BlackGeorge?" cries Jones. "Wellsiras I was sayingit wasa longtime before he could recollect me; forindeedI am verymuchaltered since I saw him. Non sum qualis eram. Ihave hadtroublesin the worldand nothing alters a man so much as grief. Ihave heardit will change the colour of a man's hair in a night.Howeverat lastknow me he didthat's sure enough; for we areboth of anageand were at the same charity school. George was agreatduncebut no matter for that; all men do not thrive in theworldaccording to their learning. I am sure I have reason to sayso; but itwill be all one a thousand years hence. Wellsirwherewas I?--O- wellwe no sooner knew each otherthanafter manyheartyshakes by the handwe agreed to go to an alehouse and take apotandby good luck the beer was some of the best I have met withsince Ihave been in town. NowsirI am coming to the point; for nosooner didI name youand told him that you and I came to towntogetherand had lived together ever sincethan he called foranotherpotand swore he would drink to your health; and indeed hedrank yourhealth so heartily that I was overjoyed to see there was somuchgratitude left in the world; and after we had emptied that pot Isaid Iwould be my pot tooand so we drank another to your health;and then Imade haste home to tell you the news."

 "What news?" cries Jones"yon have not mentioned aword of mySophia!"

"Bless me! I had like to have forgot that. Indeedwementioneda great deal about young Madam Westernand George told meall; thatMr. Blifil. is coming to town in order to be married to her.He hadbest make haste thensays Ior somebody will have herbefore hecomes; andindeedsays IMr. Seagrimit is a thousandpitiessomebody should not have her; for he certainly loves herabove allthe women in the world. I would have both you and sheknowthatit is not for her fortune he follows her; for I canassureyouas to matter of thatthere is another ladyone of muchgreaterquality and fortune than she can pretend towho is so fond ofsomebodythat she comes after him day and night."

 Here Jones fell into a passion with Partridgefor havingas hesaidbetrayed him; but the poor fellow answeredhe had mentionedno name:"Besidessir" said he"I can assure youGeorge issincerelyyour friendand wished Mr. Blifil at the devil more thanonce; nayhe said he would do anything in his power upon earth toserve you;and so I am convinced he will. Betray youindeed! whyIquestionwhether you have a better friend than George upon earthexceptmyselfor one that would go farther to serve you."

 "Well" says Jonesa little pacified"you say thisfellowwhoI believeindeedis enough inclined to be my friendlives in thesame housewith Sophia?"

  "Inthe same house!" answered Partridge; "whysirhe is oneof theservantsof the familyand very well drest I promise you he is; if itwas notfor black beard you would hardly know him."

 "One service then at least he may do me" says Jones: "surehe cancertainlyconvey a letter to my Sophia."

 "You have hit the nail ad unguem" cries Partridge; "howcame Inot tothink of it? I will engage he shall do it upon the very firstmentioning."

 "Wellthen" said Jones"do you leave me at presentand I willwrite aletterwhich you shall deliver to him to-morrow morning;for Isuppose you know where to find him."

"O yessir"answeredPartridge"I shall certainly find him again; there is no fear ofthat. Theliquor is too good for him to stay away long. I make nodoubt buthe will be there every day he stays in town."

  "Soyou don't know the street then where my Sophia is lodged?" criesJones.

 "IndeedsirI do" says Partridge.

 "What is the name of the street?" cries Jones.

 "The namesir? whyheresirjust by" answeredPartridge"notabove astreet or two off. I don'tindeedknow the very name; foras henever told meif I had askedyou knowit might have putsomesuspicion into his head. Nonosirlet me alone for that. I amtoocunning for thatI promise you."

 "Thou art most wonderfully cunningindeed" replied Jones;"howeverI will write to my charmersince I believe you will becunningenough to find him to-morrow at the alehouse."

  Andnowhaving dismissed the sagacious PartridgeMr. Jones sathimselfdown to writein which employment we shall leave him for atime. Andhere we put an end to the fifteenth book.

BOOK XVICONTAININGTHE SPACE OF FIVE DAYS

Chapter1
Ofprologues

  Ihave heard of a dramatic writer who used to sayhe would ratherwrite aplay than a prologue; in like mannerI thinkI can with lesspainswrite one of the books of this historythan the prefatorychapter toeach of them.

  Tosay the truthI believe many a hearty curse hath been devoted onthe headof that author who first instituted the method of prefixingto hisplay that portion of matter which is called the prologue; andwhich atfirst was part of the piece itselfbut of latter yearshath hadusually so little connexion with the drama before which itstandsthat the prologue to one play might as well serve for anyother.Those indeed of more modern dateseem all to be written on thesame threetopicsviz.an abuse of the taste of the townacondemnationof all contemporary authorsand an eulogium on theperformancejust about to be represented. The sentiments in allthese arevery little variednor is it possible they should; andindeed Ihave often wondered at the great invention of authorswhohave beencapable of finding such various phrases to express thesamething.

  Inlike mannerI apprehendsome future historian (if any one shalldo me thehonour of imitating my manner) willafter much scratchinghis patebestow some good wishes on my memoryfor having firstestablishedthese several initial chapters; most of whichlike modernprologuesmay as properly be prefixed to any other book in thishistory asto that which they introduceor indeed to any otherhistory asto this.

  Buthowever authors may suffer by either of these inventionsthereaderwill find sufficient emolument in the one as the spectator hathlong foundin the other.

 Firstit is well known that the prologue serves the critic for anopportunityto try his faculty of hissingand to tune his catcallto thebest advantage; by which meansI have known those musicalinstrumentsso well preparedthat they have been able to play in fullconcert atthe first rising of the curtain.

  Thesame advantages may be drawn from these chaptersin which thecriticwill be always sure of meeting with something that may serve asawhetstone to his noble spirit; so that he may fall with a morehungryappetite for censure on the history itself. And here hissagacitymust make it needless to observe how artfully thesechaptersare calculated for that excellent purpose; for in these wehavealways taken care to intersperse somewhat of the sour or acidkindinorder to sharpen and stimulate the said spirit of criticism.

 Againthe indolent readeras well as spectatorfinds greatadvantagefrom both these; foras they are not obliged either tosee theone or read the othersand both the play and the book arethusprotractedby the former they have a quarter of an hour longerallowedthem to sit at dinnerand by the latter they have theadvantageof beginning to read at the fourth or fifth page insteadof thefirsta matter by no means of trivial consequence to personswho readbooks with no other view than to say they have read themamoregeneral motive to reading than is commonly imagined; and fromwhich notonly law booksand good booksbut the pages of Homer andVirgilofSwift and Cervanteshave been often turned over.

 Many other are the emoluments which arise from both thesebutthey arefor the most part so obviousthat we shall not at presentstay toenumerate them; especially since it occurs to us that theprincipalmerit of both the prologue and the preface is that they beshort.

Chapter2
Awhimsical adventure which befel the squirewith the distressedsituationof Sophia

  Wemust now convey the reader to Mr. Western's lodgingswhichwere inPiccadillywhere he was placed by the recommendation of thelandlordat the Hercules Pillars at Hyde Park Corner; for at theinnwhichwas the first he saw on his arrival in townhe placedhishorsesand in those lodgingswhich were the first he heard ofhedeposited himself.

 Herewhen Sophia alighted from the hackney-coachwhich brought herfrom thehouse of Lady Bellastonshe desired to retire to theapartmentprovided for her; to which her father very readily agreedandwhither he attended her himself. A short dialogueneither verymaterialnor pleasant to relate minutelythen passed between theminwhich hepressed her vehemently to give her consent to the marriagewithBlifilwhoas he acquainted herwas to be in town in a fewdays; butinstead of complyingshe gave a more peremptory andresoluterefusal than she had ever done before. This so incensed herfatherthat after many bitter vowsthat he would force her to havehimwhether she would or nohe departed from her with many hard wordsandcurseslocked the doorand put the key into his pocket.

 While Sophia was left with no other company than what attend thecloseststate prisonernamelyfire and candlethe squire sat downto regalehimself over a bottle of winewith his parson and thelandlordof the Hercules Pillarswhoas the squire saidwouldmake anexcellent third manand could inform them of the news ofthe townand how affairs went; for to be suresays hehe knows agreatdealsince the horses of many of the quality stand at hishouse.

  Inthis agreeable society Mr. Western past that evening and greatpart ofthe succeeding dayduring which period nothing happened ofsufficientconsequence to find a place in this history. All thistimeSophia past by herself; for her father swore she should nevercome outof her chamber aliveunless she first consented to marryBlifil;nor did he ever suffer the door to be unlockedunless toconvey herfoodon which occasions he always attended himself.

  Thesecond morning after his arrivalwhile he and the parson wereatbreakfast together on a toast and tankardhe was informed that agentlemanwas below to wait on him.

  "Agentleman!" quoth the squire"who the devil can he be? Dodoctorgodown and see who 'tis. Mr. Blifil can hardly be come totown yet.-Go downdoand know what his business is."

  Thedoctor returned with an account that it was a very well-drestmanandby the ribbon in his hat he took him for an officer of thearmy; thathe said he had some particular businesswhich he coulddeliver tonone but Mr. Western himself.

  "Anofficer!" cries the squire; "what can any such fellow haveto dowith me?If he wants an order for baggage-waggonsI am no justiceof peaceherenor can I grant a warrant.- Let un come up thenif hemust speakto me."

  Avery genteel man now entered the room; whohaving made hiscomplimentsto the squireand desired the favour of being alonewith himdelivered himself as follows:-

 "SirI come to wait upon you by the command of my LordFellamar;but with avery different message from what I suppose you expectafter whatpast the other night."

  "Mylord who?" cries the squire; "I never heard the name o'un."

 "His lordship" said the gentleman"is willing toimpute everythingto theeffect of liquorand the most trifling acknowledgment ofthat kindwill set everything right; for as he hath the most violentattachmentto your daughteryousirare the last person uponearth fromwhom he would resent an affront; and happy is it for youboth thathe hath given such public demonstrations of his courage asto be ableto put up an affair of this kind without danger of anyimputationon his honour. All he desiresthereforeisthat you willbefore memake some acknowledgment; the slightest in the world will besufficient;and he intends this afternoon to pay his respects toyouinorder to obtain your leave of visiting the young lady on thefooting ofa lover."

  "Idon't understand much of what you saysir" said the squire;"butI supposeby what you talk about my daughterthat this is thelord whichmy cousinLady Bellastonmentioned to meand saidsomethingabout his courting my daughter. If so be that how that bethecase-you may give my service to his lordshipand tell un the girlisdisposed of already."

 "Perhapssir" said the gentleman"you are notsufficientlyapprizedof the greatness of this offer. I believe such a persontitleandfortune would be nowhere refused."

 "Lookeesir" answered the squire; "to be very plainmy daughteris bespokealready; but if she was notI would not marry her to alord uponany account; I hate all lords; they are a parcel ofcourtiersand Hanoveriansand I will have nothing to do with them."

 "Wellsir" said the gentleman"if that is yourresolutionthemessage Iam to deliver to you isthat my lord desires the favourof yourcompany this morning in Hyde Park."

 "You may tell my lordanswered the squire"that I am busyandcannotcome. I have enough to look after at homeand can't stirabroad onany account."

  "Iam suresir" quoth the other"you are too much agentlemanto sendsuch a message; you will notI am convincedhave it saidof youthatafter having affronted a noble peeryou refuse himsatisfaction.His lordship would have been willingfrom his greatregard tothe young ladyto have made up matters in another way;but unlesshe is to look on you as a fatherhis honour will notsuffer hisputting up such an indignity as you must be sensible youofferedhim."

  "Ioffered him!" cries the squire; "it is a d--n'd lie! Ineverofferedhim anything."

 Upon these words the gentleman returned a very short verbalrebukeand this he accompanied at the same time with some manualremonstranceswhich no sooner reached the ears of Mr. Westernthanthatworthy squire began to caper very briskly about the roombellowingat the same time with all his mightas if desirous tosummon agreater number of spectators to behold his agility.

  Theparsonwho had left great part of the tankard unfinishedwasnotretired far; he immediately attendedthereforeon the squire'svociferationcrying"Bless me! sirwhat's the matter?"

"Matter!"quoth thesquire"here's a highwaymanI believewho wants to roband murderme-for he hath fallen upon me with that stick there inhis handwhen I wish I may be d--n'd if I gid un the leastprovocation."

 "Howsir" said the captain"did you not tell me Ilyed?"

 "Noas I hope to be saved" answered the squire"-Ibelieve Imight say'Twas a lie that I had offered any affront to my lord- butI neversaid the word'you lie.'- I understand myself betterand youmight haveunderstood yourself better than to fall upon a naked man.If I had astick in my handyou would not have dared strike me. I'dhaveknocked thy lantern jaws about thy ears. Come down into yard thisminuteand I'll take a bout with thee at single stick for a brokenheadthatI will; or I will go into naked room and box thee for abelly-full.At unt half a manat untI'm sure."

  Thecaptainwith some indignationreplied"I seesiryou arebelow mynoticeand I shall inform his lordship you are below his.I am sorryI have dirtied my fingers with you." At which words hewithdrewthe parson interposing to prevent the squire from stoppinghiminwhich he easily prevailedas the otherthough he made someeffortsfor the purposedid not seem very violently bent onsuccess.Howeverwhen the captain was departedthe squire sentmanycurses and some menaces after him; but as these did not set outfrom hislips till the officer was at the bottom of the stairsandgrewlouder and louder as he was more and more remotethey did notreach hisearsor at least did not retard his departure.

 Poor Sophiahoweverwhoin her prisonheard all her father'soutcriesfrom first to lastbegan now first to thunder with her footandafterwards to scream as loudly as the gentleman himself had donebeforethough in a much sweeter voice. These screams soon silencedthesquireand turned all his consideration towards his daughterwhom heloved so tenderlythat the least apprehension of any harmhappeningto herthrew him presently into agonies; forexcept inthatsingle instance in which the whole future happiness of her lifewasconcernedshe was sovereign mistress of his inclinations.

 Having ended his rage against the captainwith swearing he wouldtake thelaw of himthe squire now mounted upstairs to Sophiawhomassoon as he had unlocked and opened the doorhe found allpale andbreathless. The momenthoweverthat she saw her fathershecollectedall her spiritsandcatching him hold by the handshecryedpassionately"O my dear sirI am almost frightened to death! Ihope toheaven no harm hath happened to you."

"Nono" criesthesquire"no great harm. The rascal hath not hurt me muchbut rat meif I don'tha the la o' un."

"Praydear sir" says she"tellmewhat's thematter; who is it that hath insulted you?"

"I don't knowthe nameo' un" answered Western; "some officer fellowI supposethat weare to pay for beating us; but I'll make him pay this boutifthe rascalhath got anythingwhich I suppose he hath not. For thof hewas drestout so vineI question whether he had got a voot of land intheworld."

"Butdear sir" cries she"what was theoccasion of yourquarrel?"

"What should it beSophy" answered the squire"butabout youSophy? All my misfortunes are about you; you will be thedeath ofyour poor father at last. Here's a varlet of a lordthe Lordknows whoforsooth! who hath a taan a liking to youand because Iwould notgi un my consenthe sent me a kallenge. Comedo be agood girlSophyand put an end to all your father's troubles;comedoconsent to ha un; he will be in town within this day ortwo; dobut promise me to marry un as soon as he comesand you willmake methe happiest man in the worldand I will make you thehappiestwoman; you shall have the finest cloaths in Londonand thefinestjewelsand a coach and six at your command. I promisedAllworthyalready to give up half my estate- od rabbet it! I shouldhardlystick at giving up the whole."

"Will my papa be so kind"says she"as to hear me speak?"

"Why wout askSophy?"cries he"whendost know I had rather hear thy voice than the musick of thebest packof dogs in England.- Hear theemy dear litle girl! I hopeI shallhear thee as long as I live; for if I was ever to lose thatpleasureI would not gee a brass varden to live a moment longer.IndeedSophyyou do not know how I love youindeed you don'toryou nevercould have run away and left your poor fatherwho hath noother joyno other comfort upon earthbut his little Sophy." Atthesewords the tears stood in his eyes; and Sophia (with the tearsstreamingfrom hers) answered"Indeedmy dear papaI know youhave lovedme tenderlyand heaven is my witness how sincerely Ihavereturned your affection; nor could anything but an apprehensionof beingforced into the arms of this man have driven me to run from afatherwhom I love so passionatelythat I wouldwith pleasuresacrificemy life to his happiness; nayI have endeavoured toreasonmyself into doing moreand had almost worked up a resolutionto endurethe most miserable of all livesto comply with yourinclination.It was that resolution alone to which I could not forcemy mind;nor can I ever." Here the squire began to look wildandthe foamappeared at his lipswhich Sophia observingbegged to beheard outand then proceeded: "If my father's lifehis healthorany realhappiness of his was at stakehere stands your resolveddaughter;may heaven blast me if there is a misery I would notsuffer topreserve you!- Nothat most detestedmost loathsome ofall lotswould I embrace. I would give my hand to Blifil for yoursake."

"I tell theeit will preserve me" answers the father; "itwill giveme healthhappinesslifeeverything.- Upon my soul Ishall dieif dost refuse me; I shall break my heartI shallupon mysoul."

"Is it possible" says she"you can have such adesire tomake memiserable?"

"I tell thee noa" answered he loudly"d--n meif thereis a thing upon earth I would not do to see thee happy."

"Andwill not my dear papa allow me to have the least knowledge ofwhat willmake me so? If it be true that happiness consists inopinionwhat must be my conditionwhen I shall think myself the mostmiserableof all the wretches upon earth?"

"Better think yourselfso"said he"than know it by being married to a poor bastardly vagabond."

"Ifit will content yousir" said Sophia"I will give youthe mostsolemnpromise never to marry himnor any otherwhile my papa liveswithouthis consent. Let me dedicate my whole life to your service;let me beagain your poor Sophyand my whole business and pleasurebeas ithath beento please and divert you."

"LookeeSophy"answeredthe squire"I am not to be choused in this manner. Your auntWesternwould then have reason to think me the fool she doth. NonoSophyI'd have you to know I have a got more wisdomand knowmore ofthe worldthan to take the word of a woman in a matterwhere aman is concerned."

"Howsirhave I deserved this want ofconfidence?"said she; "have I ever broke a single promise to you?or have Iever been found guilty of a falsehood from my cradle?"

"LookeeSophy" cries he; "that's neither here nor there. I amdeterminedupon this matchand have him you shalld--n me if shatunt. D--nme if shat untthough dost hang thyself the next morning."Atrepeating which words he clinched his fistknit his browsbit hislipsandthundered so loudthat the poor afflictedterrified Sophiasunktrembling into her chairandhad not a flood of tears comeimmediatelyto her reliefperhaps worse had followed.

 Western beheld the deplorable condition of his daughter with no morecontritionor remorse than the turnkey of Newgate feels at viewing theagonies ofa tender wifewhen taking her last farewell of hercondemnedhusband; or rather he looked down on her with the sameemotionswhich arise in an honest fair tradesmanwho sees hisdebtordragged to prison for L10whichthough a just debtthewretch iswickedly unable to pay. Orto hit the case still morenearlyhefelt the same compunction with a bawdwhen some poorinnocentwhom she hath ensnared into her handsfalls into fits atthe firstproposal of what is called seeing company. Indeed thisresemblancewould be exactwas it not that the bawd hath aninterestin what she dothand the fatherthough perhaps he mayblindlythink otherwisecanin realityhave none in urging hisdaughterto almost an equal prostitution.

  Inthis condition he left his poor Sophiaanddeparting with averyvulgar observation on the effect of tearshe locked the roomandreturned to the parsonwho said everything he durst in behalfof theyoung ladywhichthough perhaps it was not quite so much ashis dutyrequiredyet was it sufficient to throw the squire into aviolentrageand into many indecent reflections on the whole bodyof theclergywhich we have too great an honour for that sacredfunctionto commit to paper.

Chapter3
Whathappened to Sophia during her confinement

  Thelandlady of the house where the squire lodged had begun veryearly toentertain a strange opinion of her guests. Howeveras shewasinformed that the squire was a man of vast fortuneand as she hadtaken careto exact a very extraordinary price for her roomsshedid notthink proper to give any offence; forthough she was notwithoutsome concern for the confinement of poor Sophiaof whosegreatsweetness of temper and affability the maid of the house hadmade sofavourable a reportwhich was confirmed by all the squire'sservantsyet she had much more concern for her own interestthanto provokeonewhomas she saidshe perceived to be a veryhastishkind of a gentleman.

 Though Sophia cat but littleyet she was regularly served withher meals;indeedI believeif she had liked any one raritythatthesquirehowever angrywould have spared neither pains nor cost tohaveprocured it for her; sincehowever strange it may appear to someof myreadershe really doated on his daughterand to give her anykind ofpleasure was the highest satisfaction of his life.

  Thedinner-hour being arrivedBlack George carried her up a pulletthe squirehimself (for he had sworn not to part with the key)attendingthe door. As George deposited the dishsome complimentspassedbetween him and Sophia (for he had not seen her since sheleft thecountryand she treated every servant with more respect thansomepersons shew to those who are in a very slight degree theirinferiors).Sophia would have had him take the pullet backsayingshe couldnot eat; but George begged her to tryand particularlyrecommendedto her the eggsof which he said it was full.

  Allthis time the squire was waiting at the door; but George was agreatfavourite with his masteras his employment was in concernsof thehighest naturenamelyabout the gameand was accustomed totake manyliberties. He had officiously carried up the dinnerbeingashe saidvery desirous to see his young lady; he madethereforeno scruple of keeping his master standing above ten minuteswhilecivilities were passing between him and Sophiafor which hereceivedonly a good-humoured rebuke at the door when he returned.

  Theeggs of pulletspartridgespheasants&c.wereas Georgewell knewthe most favourite dainties of Sophia. It was thereforeno wonderthat hewho was a very good-natured fellowshould takecare tosupply her with this kind of delicacyat a time when alltheservants in the house were afraid she would be starved; for shehad scarceswallowed a single morsel in the last forty hours.

 Though vexation hath not the same effect on all persons as itusuallyhath on a widowwhose appetite it often renders sharperthan itcan be rendered by the air on Bansted Downsor SalisburyPlain; yetthe sublimest griefnotwithstanding what some people maysay to thecontrarywill eat at last. And Sophiaherselfafter somelittleconsiderationbegan to dissect the fowlwhich she found to beas full ofeggs as George had reported it.

 Butif she was pleased with theseit contained something whichwould havedelighted the Royal Society much more; for if a fowl withthree legsbe so invaluable a curiositywhen perhaps time hathproduced athousand suchat what price shall we esteem a bird whichso totallycontradicts all the laws of animal oecconomyas to containa letterin its belly? Ovid tells us of a flower into which Hyacinthuswasmetamorphosedthat bears letters on its leaveswhich Virgilrecommendedas a miracle to the Royal Society of his day; but no agenor nationhath ever recorded a bird with a letter in its maw.

  Butthough a miracle of this kind might have engaged all theAcademiesdes Sciences in Europeand perhaps in a fruitlessinquiry;yet the readerby barely recollecting the last dialoguewhichpassed between Messieurs Jones and Partridgewill be veryeasilysatisfied from whence this letter cameand how it found itspassageinto the fowl.

 Sophianotwithstanding her long fastand notwithstanding herfavouritedish was there before herno sooner saw the letter than sheimmediatelysnatched it uptore it openand read as follows:-

 MADAM

  WasI not sensible to whom I have the honour of writingI shouldendeavourhowever difficultto paint the horrors of my mind at theaccountbrought me by Mrs. Honour; but as tenderness alone can haveany trueidea of the pangs which tenderness is capable of feelingso canthis most amiable qualitywhich my Sophia possesses in themosteminent degreesufficiently inform her what her Jones musthavesuffered on this melancholy occasion. Is there a circumstancein theworld which can heighten my agonieswhen I hear of anymisfortunewhich hath befallen you? Surely there is one onlyand withthat I amaccursed. It ismy Sophiathe dreadful considerationthat I ammyself the wretched cause. Perhaps I here do myself too muchhonourbut none will envy me an honour which costs me so extremelydear.Pardon me this presumptionand pardon me a greater stillifI ask youwhether my advicemy assistancemy presencemyabsencemy deathor my tortures can bring you any relief? Can themostPerfect admirationthe most watchful observancethe most ardentlovethemost melting tendernessthe most resigned submission toyour willmake you amends for what you are to sacrifice to myhappiness?If they canflymy lovely angelto those arms whichare everopen to receive and protect you; and to whichwhether youbringyourself aloneor the riches of the world with youisin myopinionan alternative not worth regarding. Ifon the contrarywisdomshall predominateandon the most mature reflectioninformyouthatthe sacrifice is too great; and if there be no way left toreconcileyour fatherand restore the peace of your dear mindbut byabandoningmeI conjure you drive me for ever from your thoughtsexert yourresolutionand let no compassion for my sufferings bearthe leastweight in that tender bosom. Believe memadamI sosincerelylove you better than myselfthat my great and principal endis yourhappiness. My first wish (why would not fortune indulge mein it?)wasand pardon me if I saystill isto see you every momentthehappiest of women; my second wish isto hear you are so; but nomisery onearth can equal minewhile I think you owe an uneasy momentto him whois

 Madam

    in every senseand to every purpose

   your devoted

                                       THOMAS JONES

 What Sophia saidor didor thoughtupon this letterhow oftenshe readitor whether more than onceshall all be left to ourreader'simagination. The answer to it he may perhaps see hereafterbut not atpresent: for this reasonamong othersthat she did notnow writeanyand that for several good causesone of which wasthisshehad no paperpennor ink.

  Inthe eveningwhile Sophia was meditating on the letter she hadreceivedor on something elsea violent noise from below disturbedhermeditations. This noise was no other than a round bout ataltercationbetween two persons. One of the combatantsby hisvoicesheimmediately distinguished to be her father; but she did notso soondiscover the shriller pipes to belong to the organ of her auntWesternwho was just arrived in townwhere havingby means of oneof herservantswho stopt at the Hercules Pillarslearned whereherbrother lodgedshe drove directly to his lodgings.

  Weshall therefore take our leave at present of Sophiaandwithour usualgood-breedingattend her ladyship.

Chapter4
In whichSophia is delivered from her confinement

  Thesquire and the parson (for the landlord was now otherwiseengaged)were smoaking their pipes togetherwhen the arrival of thelady wasfirst signified. The squire no sooner heard her namethan heimmediatelyran down to usher her upstairs; for he was a greatobserverof such ceremonialsespecially to his sisterof whom hestood morein awe than of any other human creaturethough he neverwould ownthisnor did he perhaps know it himself.

 Mrs. Westernon her arrival in the dining roomhaving flungherselfinto a chairbegan thus to harangue: "Wellsurelyno oneever hadsuch an intolerable journey. I think the roadssince so manyturnpikeactsare grown worse than ever. Labrotherhow could youget intothis odious place? no person of conditionI dare sweareverset foothere before."

"I don't know" cries the squire"Ithink theydo wellenough; it was landlord recommended them. I thoughtas heknew mostof the qualityhe could best shew me where to get amongum."

"Welland where's my niece?" says the lady; "have youbeen towait uponLady Bellaston yet?"

"Ayay" cries the squire"yournieceis safeenough; she is upstairs in chamber. "How!" answered thelady"ismy niece in this houseand does she not know of my beinghere?"

"Nonobody can well get to her" says the squire"forsheis underlock and key. I have her safe; I vetched her from my ladycousin thefirst night I came to townand I have taken care o' hereversince; she is as secure as a fox in a bagI promise you."

"Goodheaven!" returned Mrs. Western"what do I hear? I thoughtwhat afine piece of work would be the consequence of my consent toyourcoming to town yourself! nayit was indeed your own headstrongwillnorcan I charge myself with having ever consented to it. Didnot youpromise mebrotherthat you would take none of theseheadstrongmeasures? Was it not by these headstrong measures thatyou forcedmy niece to run away from you in the country? Have you amind tooblige her to take such another step?"

"Z--ds and thedevil!"cries the squiredashing his pipe on the ground; "did evermortalhear the like? when I expected you would have commended mefor all Ihave doneto be fallen upon in this manner!"

"Howbrother!"said the lady"have I ever given you the least reason toimagine Ishould commend you for locking up your daughter? Have Inot oftentold you that women in a free country are not to betreatedwith such arbitrary power? We are as free as the menand Iheartilywish I could not say we deserve that freedom better. If youexpect Ishould stay a moment longer in this wretched houseor that Ishouldever own you again as my relationor that I should evertroublemyself again with the affairs of your familyI insist upon itthat myniece be set at liberty this instant." This she spoke withsocommanding an airstanding with her back to the firewith onehandbehind herand a pinch of snuff in the otherthat I questionwhetherThalestrisat the head of her Amazonsever made a moretremendousfigure. It is no wonderthereforethat the poor squirewas notproof against the awe which she inspired. "There" hecriedthrowingdown the key"there it isdo whatever you please. Iintendedonly to have kept her up till Blifil came to townwhichcan't belong; and now if any harm happens in the mean timerememberwho is to be blamed for it."

  "Iwill answer it with my life" cries Mrs. Western"but Ishallnotintermeddle at allunless upon one conditionand that isthatyou willcommit the whole entirely to my carewithout taking anyonemeasure yourselfunless I shall eventually appoint you to act. Ifyou ratifythese preliminariesbrother. I yet will endeavour topreservethe honour of your family; if notI shall continue in aneutralstate."

  "Ipray yougood sir" said the parson"permit yourself thisonce to beadmonished by her ladyship: peradventureby communing withyoungMadam Sophiashe will effect more than you have been able toperpetrateby more rigorous measures."

 "Whatdost thee open upon me?" cries the squire: "ifthee dostbegin tobabbleI shall whip thee in presently."

 "Fiebrother" answered the lady"is this languageto a clergyman?Mr. Suppleis a man of senseand gives you the best advice; and thewholeworldI believewill concur in his opinion; but I must tellyou Iexpect an immediate answer to my categorical proposals. Eithercede yourdaughter to my disposalor take her wholly to your ownsurprizingdiscretionand then I herebefore Mr. Suppleevacuatethegarrisonand renounce you and your family for ever."

  "Ipray you let me be a mediator" cries the parson"let mesupplicateyou."

 "Whythere lies the key on the table" cries the squire."She maytake unupif she pleases: who hinders her?"

 "Nobrother" answered the lady"I insist on theformality ofits beingdelivered mewith a full ratification of all theconcessionsstipulated."

 "Why then I will deliver it to you.- There 'tis" cries thesquire."I amsuresisteryou can't accuse me of ever denying to trust mydaughterto you. She hath a-lived wi' you a whole year and muore toa timewithout my ever zeeing her."

 "And it would have been happy for her" answered the lady"if shehad alwayslived with me. Nothing of this kind would have happenedunder myeye."

 "Aycertainly" cries he"I only am to blame."

 "Whyyou are to blamebrother" answered she. "Ihave been oftenobliged totell you soand shall always be obliged to tell you so.HoweverIhope you will now amendand gather so much experience frompasterrorsas not to defeat my wisest machinations by your blunders.Indeedbrotheryou are not qualified for these negociations. Allyour wholescheme of politics is wrong. I once morethereforeinsistthat you do not intermeddle. Remember only what is past."--

 "Z--ds and bl-dsister" cries the squirewhat would youhave mesay? Youare enough to provoke the devil."

 "Therenow" said she"just according to the oldcustom. I seebrotherthere is no talking to you. I will appeal to Mr. Supplewho is aman of senseif I said anything which could put any humancreatureinto a passion; but you are so wrongheaded every way."

 "Let me beg youmadam" said the parsonnot to irritatehisworship."

 "Irritate him?" said the lady; "sureyou are as greata fool ashimself.Wellbrothersince you have promised not to interfereIwill oncemore undertake the management of my niece. Lord have mercyupon allaffairs which are under the directions of men! The head ofone womanis worth a thousand of yours." And now having summoned aservant toshow her to Sophiashe departedbearing the key with her.

  Shewas no sooner gonethan the squire (having first shut the door)ejaculatedtwenty bitchesand as many hearty curses against hernotsparing himself for having ever thought of her estate; butadded"Now one hath been a slave so longit would be pity to lose itat lastfor want of holding out a little longer. The bitch can't livefor everand I know I am down for it upon the will."

  Theparson greatly commended this resolution: and now the squirehavingordered in another bottlewhich was his usual method whenanythingeither pleased or vexed himdidby drinking plentifullyof thismedicinal julapso totally wash away his cholerthat histemper wasbecome perfectly placid and serenewhen Mrs. Westernreturnedwith Sophia into the room. The young lady had on her hatandcapuchinand the aunt acquainted Mr. Western"that sheintendedto take her niece with her to her own lodgings; forindeedbrother" says she"these rooms are not fit to receive aChristiansoul in."

 "Very wellmadam" quoth Western"whatever youplease. The girlcan neverbe in better hands than yours; and the parson here can do methejustice to saythat I have said fifty times behind your backthat youwas one of the most sensible women in the world."

  "Tothis" cries the parson"I am ready to bear testimony."

 "Naybrother" says Mrs. Western"I have alwaysI'msuregivenyou asfavourable a character. You must own you have a little too muchhastinessin your temper; but when you will allow yourself time toreflectInever knew a man more reasonable."

 "Why thensisterif you think so" said the squire"here's yourgoodhealth with all my heart. I am a little passionate sometimesbutI scorn tobear any malice. Sophydo you be a good girland doeverythingyour aunt orders you."

  "Ihave not the least doubt of her" answered Mrs. Western. "Shehath hadalready an example before her eyes in the behaviour of thatwretch hercousin Harrietwho ruined herself by neglecting my advice.O brotherwhat think you? You was hardly gone out of hearingwhenyou setout for Londonwhen who should arrive but that impudentfellowwith the odious Irish name- that Fitzpatrick. He broke inabruptlyupon me without noticeor I would not have seen him. Heran on alongunintelligible story about his wifeto which he forcedme to givehim a hearing; but I made him very little answeranddeliveredhim the letter from his wifewhich I bid him answerhimself. Isuppose the wretch will endeavour to find us outbut I begyou willnot see herfor I am determined I will not."

  "Izee her!" answered the squire; "you need not fear me. I'llgenoencouragement to such undutiful wenches. It is well for the fellowherhusbandI was not at huome. Od rabbit ithe should have takena dancethru the horse-pondI promise un. You zeeSophywhatundutifulnessbrings volks to. You have an example in your ownfamily."

 "Brother" cries the aunt"you need not shock myniece by suchodiousrepetitions. Why will you not leave everything entirely to me?"

"WellwellI wullI wull" said the squire.

  Andnow Mrs. Westernluckily for Sophiaput an end to theconversationby ordering chairs to be called. I say luckilyfor haditcontinued much longerfresh matter of dissension wouldmostprobablyhave arisen between the brother and sister; between whomeducationand sex made the only difference; for both were equallyviolentand equally positive: they had both a vast affection forSophiaand both a sovereign contempt for each other.

Chapter5
In whichJones receives a letter from Sophiaand goes to a playwith Mrs.Miller and Partridge

  Thearrival of Black George in townand the good offices which thatgratefulfellow had promised to do for his old benefactorgreatlycomfortedJones in the midst of all the anxiety and uneasiness whichhe hadsuffered on the account of Sophia; from whomby the means ofthe saidGeorgehe received the following answer to his letterwhichSophiatowhom the use of peninkand paper was restored with herlibertywrote the very evening when she departed from herconfinement:

 SIR

  AsI do not doubt your sincerity in what you writeyou will bepleased tohear that some of my afflictions are at an endby thearrival ofmy aunt Westernwith whom I am all at presentand withwhom Ienjoy all the liberty I can desire. One promise my aunt hathinsistedon my makingwhich isthat I will not see or conversewith anyperson without her knowledge and consent. This promise I havemostsolemnly givenand shall most inviolably keep: and though shehath notexpressly forbidden me writingyet that must be anomissionfrom forgetfulness; or thisperhapsis included in the wordconversing.Howeveras I cannot but consider this as a breach ofhergenerous confidence in my honouryou cannot expect that Ishallafter thiscontinue to write myself or to receive letterswithouther knowledge. A promise is with me a very sacred thingandto beextended to everything understood from itas well as to what isexpressedby it; and this consideration mayperhapson reflectionafford yousome comfort. But why should I mention a comfort to youof thiskind; for though there is one thing in which I can nevercomplywith the best of fathersyet am I firmly resolved never to actindefiance of himor to take any step of consequence without hisconsent. Afirm persuasion of this must teach you to divert yourthoughtsfrom what fortune hath (perhaps) made impossible. This yourowninterest persuades you. This may reconcileI hopeAllworthy toyou; andif it willyou have my injunctions to pursue it. Accidentshave laidsome obligations on meand your good intentions probablymore.Fortune mayperhapsbe some time kinder to us both than atpresent.you as Believe thisthat I shall always think of you as Ithink youdeserveand am

                                   Sir

                            Your obliged humble servant

                                      SOPHIA WESTERN

  Icharge you write to me no more- at present at least; and acceptthiswhich is now of no service to mewhich I know you must wantand thinkyou owe the trifle only to that fortune by which you foundit.

  Achild who hath just learnt his letters would have spelt thisletter outin less time than Jones took in reading it. Thesensationsit occasioned were a mixture of joy and grief; somewhatlike whatdivide the mind of a good man when he peruses the will ofhisdeceased friendin which a large legacywhich his distressesmake themore welcomeis bequeathed to him. Upon the wholehoweverhe was more pleased than displeased; andindeedthereader mayprobably wonder that he was displeased at all; but thereader isnot quite so much in love as was poor Jones; and love is adiseasewhichthough it mayin some instancesresemble aconsumption(which it sometimes causes)in others proceeds indirectopposition to itand particularly in thisthat it neverflattersitselfor sees any one symptom in a favourable light.

  Onething gave him complete satisfactionwhich wasthat hismistresshad regained her libertyand was now with a lady where shemight atleast assure herself of a decent treatment. Anothercomfortablecircumstance was the reference which she made to herpromise ofnever marrying any other man; for however disinterestedhe mightimagine his passionand notwithstanding all the generousoverturesmade in his letterI very much question whether he couldhave hearda more afflicting piece of news than that Sophia wasmarried toanotherthough the match had been never so greatandnever solikely to end in making her completely happy. That refineddegree ofPlatonic affection which is absolutely detached from thefleshandisindeedentirely and purely spiritualis a gif tconfinedto the female part of the creation; many of whom I have hearddeclare(anddoubtlesswith great truth)that they wouldwiththe utmostreadinessresign a lover to a rivalwhen such resignationwas provedto be necessary for the temporal interest of such lover.HencethereforeI conclude that this affection is in naturethough Icannot pretend to say I have ever seen an instance of it.

  Mr.Jones having spent three hours in reading and kissing theaforesaidletterand beingat lastin a state of good spiritsfromthelast-mentioned considerationshe agreed to carry anappointmentwhich he had before madeinto execution. This wastoattendMrs. Millerand her younger daughterinto the gallery attheplay-houseand to admit Mr. Partridge as one of the company.For asJones had really that taste for humour which many affectheexpectedto enjoy much entertainment in the criticisms of Partridgefrom whomhe expected the simple dictates of natureunimprovedindeedbut likewise unadulteratedby art.

  Inthe first row then of the first gallery did Mr. JonesMrs.Millerher youngest daughterand Partridgetake their places.Partridgeimmediately declared it was the finest place he had everbeen in.When the first music was playedhe said"It was a wonderhow somany fiddlers could play at one timewithout putting oneanotherout." While the fellow was lighting the upper candleshecried outto Mrs. Miller"Looklookmadamthe very picture ofthe man inthe end of the common-prayer book before thegunpowder-treasonservice." Nor could he help observingwith asighwhenall the candles were lighted"That here were candlesenoughburnt in one nightto keep an honest poor family for a wholetwelvemonth."

  Assoon as the playwhich was HamletPrince of DenmarkbeganPartridgewas all attentionnor did he break silence till theentranceof the ghost; upon which he asked Jones"What man that wasin thestrange dress; something" said he"like what I have seenin apicture.Sure it is not armouris it?" Jones answered"That is theghost."To which Partridge replied with a smile"Persuade me to thatsirifyou can. Though I can't say I ever actually saw a ghost inmy lifeyet I am certain I should know oneif I saw himbetter thanthat comesto. Nonosirghosts don't appear in such dresses asthatneither." In this mistakewhich caused much laughter in theneighbourhoodof Partridgehe was suffered to continuetill thescenebetween the ghost and Hamletwhen Partridge gave that credit toMr.Garrickwhich he had denied to Jonesand fell into so violentatremblingthat his knees knocked against each other. Jones askedhim whatwas the matterand whether he was afraid of the warrior uponthe stage?"O la! sir" said he"I perceive now it is what youtoldme. I amnot afraid of anything; for I know it is but a play. And ifit wasreally a ghostit could do one no harm at such a distanceandin so muchcompany; and yet if I was frightenedI am not the onlyperson."

"Whywho" cries Jones"dost thou take to be such acowardhere besides thyself?"

"Naymay call me coward if youwill;but ifthat little man there upon the stage is not frightenedI neversaw anyman frightened in my life. Ayay: go along with you: Aytobe sure!Who's fool then? Will you? Lud have mercy upon suchfool-hardiness!-Whatever happensit is good enough for you.-- Followyou? I'dfollow the devil as soon. Nayperhaps it is the devil-- forthey sayhe can put on what likeness he pleases.- Oh! here he isagain.--No farther! Noyou have gone far enough already; fartherthan I'dhave gone for all the king's dominions." Jones offered tospeakbutPartridge cried"Hushhush! dear sirdon't you hearhim?"And during the whole speech of the ghosthe sat with his eyesfixedpartly on the ghost and partly on Hamletand with his mouthopen; thesame passions which succeeded each other in Hamletsucceedinglikewise in him.

 When the scene was overJones said"WhyPartridgeyou exceedmyexpectations. You enjoy the play more than I conceived possible."

"Naysir" answered Partridge"if you are not afraid of thedevilIcan't helpit; but to be sureit is natural to be surprized at suchthingsthough I know there is nothing in them: not that it was theghost thatsurprized meneither; for I should have known that to havebeen onlya man in a strange dress; but when I saw the little man sofrightenedhimselfit was that which took hold of me."

"And dost thouimaginethenPartridge" cries Jones"that he was reallyfrightened?"

"Naysir" said Partridge"did not you yourselfobserveafterwardswhen he found it was his own father's spiritand how hewasmurdered in the gardenhow his fear forsook him by degreesandhe wasstruck dumb with sorrowas it werejust as I should havebeenhadit been my own case?- But hush! O la! what noise is that?There heis again.-- Well to be certainthough I know there isnothing atall in itI am glad I am not down yonderwhere thosemen are."Then turning his eyes again upon Hamlet"Ayyou may drawyoursword; what signifies a sword against the power of the devil?"

 During the second actPartridge made very few remarks. He greatlyadmiredthe fineness of the dresses; nor could he help observingupon theking's countenance. "Well" said he"how people maybedeceivedby faces! Nulla fides fronti isI finda true saying. Whowouldthinkby looking in the king's facethat he had ever committeda murder?"He then inquired after the ghost; but Joneswho intendedhe shouldbe surprizedgave him no other satisfactionthan"that hemightpossibly see him again soonand in a flash of fire."

 Partridge sat in a fearful expectation of this; and nowwhen theghost madehis next appearancePartridge cried out"Theresirnow;what sayyou now? is he frightened now or no? As much frightened asyou thinkmeandto be surenobody can help some fears. I would notbe in sobad a condition as what's his namesquire Hamletisthereforall the world. Bless me! what's become of the spirit? AsI am aliving soulI thought I saw him sink into the earth."

"Indeedyou sawright" answered Jones. "Wellwell" cries Partridge"I knowit is onlya play: and besidesif there was anything in all thisMadamMiller would not laugh so; for as to yousiryou would notbe afraidI believeif the devil was here in person.- Therethere- Ayno wonder you are in such a passionshake the vile wickedwretch topieces. If she was my own motherI would serve her so. Tobe sureall duty to a mother is forfeited by such wickeddoings.--Aygo about your businessI hate the sight of you."

  Ourcritic was now pretty silent till the playwhich Hamletintroducesbefore the king. This he did not at first understandtill Jonesexplained it to him; but he no sooner entered into thespirit ofitthan he began to bless himself that he had nevercommittedmurder. Then turning to Mrs. Millerhe asked her"If shedid notimagine the king looked as if he was touched; though he is"said he"a good actorand doth all he can to hide it. WellIwould nothave so much to answer foras that wicked man there hathto situpon a much higher chair than he sits upon. No wonder he runaway; foryour sake I'll never trust an innocent face again."

  Thegrave-digging scene next engaged the attention of Partridgewhoexpressedmuch surprize at the number of skulls thrown upon the stage.To whichJones answered"That it was one of the most famousburial-placesabout town."

"No wonder then" cries Partridge"thatthe placeis haunted. But I never saw in my life a worse grave-digger.I had asextonwhen I was clerkthat should have dug three graveswhile heis digging one. The fellow handles a spade as if it was thefirst timehe had ever had one in his hand. Ayayyou may sing.You hadrather sing than workI believe."- Upon Hamlet's taking upthe skullhe cried out"Well! it is strange to see how fearless somemen are: Inever could bring myself to touch anything belonging to adead manon any account.- He seemed frightened enough too at theghostIthought. Nemo omnibus horis sapit."

 Little more worth remembering occurred during the playat the endof whichJones asked him"Which of the players he had liked best?"Tothis heansweredwith some appearance of indignation at the question"Thekingwithout doubt."

"IndeedMr. Partridge" saysMrs.Miller"you are not of the same opinion with the town; for they areallagreedthat Hamlet is acted by the best player who ever was onthestage."

"He the best player!" cries Partridgewith acontemptuoussneer"whyI could act as well as he myself. I am sureif I hadseen aghostI should have looked in the very same mannerand donejust as hedid. And thento be surein that sceneas you called itbetweenhim and his motherwhere you told me he acted so finewhyLord helpmeany manthat isany good manthat had such amotherwould have done exactly the same. I know you are only jokingwith me;but indeedmadamthough I was never at a play in Londonyet I haveseen acting before in the country; and the king for mymoney; hespeaks all his words distinctlyhalf as loud again as theother.-Anybody may see he is an actor."

 While Mrs. Miller was thus engaged in conversation with Partridgealady cameup to Mr. Joneswhom he immediately knew to be Mrs.Fitzpatrick.She saidshe had seen him from the other part of thegalleryand had taken that opportunity of speaking to himas she hadsomethingto saywhich might be of great service to himself. She thenacquaintedhim with her lodgingsand made him an appointment the nextday in themorning; whichupon recollectionshe presently changed totheafternoon; at which time Jones promised to attend her.

 Thus ended the adventure at the playhouse; where Partridge hadaffordedgreat mirthnot only to Jones and Mrs. Millerbut to allwho satwithin hearingwho were more attentive to what he saidthan toanything that passed on the stage.

  Hedurst not go to bed all that nightfor fear of the ghost; andfor manynights after sweated two or three hours before he went tosleepwith the same apprehensionsand waked several times in greathorrorscrying out"Lord have mercy upon us! there it is."

Chapter6
In whichthe history is obliged to look back

  Itis almost impossible for the best parent to observe an exactimpartialityto his childreneven though no superior merit shouldbias hisaffection; but sure a parent can hardly be blamedwhenthatsuperiority determines his preference.

  AsI regard all the personages of this history in the light of mychildren;so I must confess the same inclination of partiality toSophia;and for that I hope the reader will allow me the sameexcusefrom the superiority of her character.

 This extraordinary tenderness which I have for my heroineneversuffers meto quit her any long time without the utmost reluctance.I couldnowthereforereturn impatiently to inquire what hathhappenedto this lovely creature since her departure from herfather'sbut that I am obliged first to pay a short visit to Mr.Blifil.

  Mr.Westernin the first confusion into which his mind was castupon thesudden news he received of his daughterand in the firsthurry togo after herhad not once thought of sending any accountof thediscovery to Blifil. He had not gone farhoweverbefore herecollectedhimselfand accordingly stopt at the very first inn hecame toand dispatched away a messenger to acquaint Blifil with hishavingfound Sophiaand with his firm resolution to marry her tohimimmediatelyif he would come up after him to town.

  Asthe love which Blifil had for Sophia was of that violent kindwhichnothing but the loss of her fortuneor some such accidentcouldlessenhis inclination to the match was not at all altered byher havingrun awaythough he was obliged to lay this to his ownaccount.He very readilythereforeembraced this offer. Indeedhenowproposed the of a very strong passion besides avariceby marryingthis youngladyand this was hatred; for he concluded thatmatrimonyafforded an equal opportunity of satisfying either hatred orlove; andthis opinion is very probably verified by much experience.To say thetruthif we are to judge by the ordinary behaviour ofmarriedpersons to each otherwe shall perhaps be apt to concludethat thegenerality seek the indulgence of the former passion onlyintheirunion of everything but of hearts.

 There was one difficultyhoweverin his wayand this arose fromMr.Allworthy. That good manwhen he found by the departure of Sophia(forneither thatnor the cause of itcould be concealed fromhim)thegreat aversion which she had for his nephewbegan to beseriouslyconcerned that he had been deceived into carrying matters sofar. He byno means concurred with the opinion of those parentswhothink itas immaterial to consult the inclinations of their childrenin theaffair of marriageas to solicit the good pleasure of theirservantswhen they intend to take a journey; and who are by lawordecency atleastwithheld often from using absolute force. On thecontraryas he esteemed the institution to be of the most sacredkindhethought every preparatory caution necessary to preserve itholy andinviolate; and very wisely concludedthat the surest wayto effectthis was by laying the foundation in previous affection.

 Blifil indeed soon cured his uncle of all anger on the score ofdeceitbymany vows and protestations that he had been deceivedhimselfwith which the many declarations of Western very welltallied;but now to persuade Allworthy to consent to the renewinghisaddresseswas a matter of such apparent difficultythat the veryappearancewas sufficient to have deterred a less enterprizing genius;but thisyoung gentleman so well knew his own talentsthat nothingwithin theprovince of cunning seemed to him hard to be atchieved.

 Here then he represented the violence of his own affectionandthe hopesof subduing aversion in the lady by perseverance. Hebeggedthatin an affair on which depended all his future reposehe mightat least be at liberty to try all fair means for success.Heavenforbidhe saidthat he should ever think of prevailing by anyother thanthe most gentle methods! "Besidessir" said he"ifthey failyou may then (which will be surely time enough) deny yourconsent."He urged the great and eager desire which Mr. Western hadfor thematch; and lastlyhe made great use of the name of Jonesto whom heimputed all that had happened; and from whomhe saidtopreserveso valuable a young lady was even an act of charity.

  Allthese arguments were well seconded by Thwackumwho dwelt alittlestronger on the authority of parents than Mr. Blifil himselfhad done.He ascribed the measures which Mr. Blifil was desirous totake toChristian motives; "and though" says he"the goodyounggentlemanhath mentioned charity lastI am almost convinced it is hisfirst andprincipal consideration."

 Squarepossiblyhad he been presentwould have sung to the sametunethough in a different keyand would have discovered muchmoralfitness in the proceeding: but he was now gone to Bath for therecoveryof his health.

 Allworthythough not without reluctanceat last yielded to thedesires ofhis nephew. He said he would accompany him to Londonwherehe mightbe at liberty to use every honest endeavour to gain the lady:"ButI declare" said he"I will never give my consent to anyabsoluteforce being put on her inclinationsnor shall you everhave herunless she can be brought freely to compliance."

 Thus did the affection of Allworthy for his nephew betray thesuperiorunderstanding to be triumphed over by the inferior; andthus isthe prudence of the best of heads often defeated by thetendernessof the best of hearts.

 Blifilhaving obtained this unhoped-for acquiescence in hisunclerested not till he carried his purpose into execution. And asnoimmediate business required Mr. Allworthy's presence in thecountryand little preparation is necessary to men for a journeythey setout the very next dayand arrived in town that eveningwhenMr. Jonesas we have seenwas diverting himself with Partridge atthe play.

  Themorning after his arrivalMr. Blifil waited on Mr. Westernby whom hewas most kindly and graciously receivedand from whom hehad everypossible assurance (perhaps more than was possible) thathe shouldvery shortly be as happy as Sophia could make him; nor wouldthe squiresuffer the young gentleman to return to his uncle till hehadalmost against his willcarried him to his sister.

Chapter7
In whichMr. Western pays a visit to his sisterin company with Mr.Blifil

 Mrs. Western was reading a lecture on prudenceand matrimonialpoliticsto her niecewhen her brother and Blifil broke in with lessceremonythan the laws of visiting require. Sophia no sooner sawBlifilthan she turned paleand almost lost the use of all herfaculties;but her aunton the contrarywaxed redandhaving allherfaculties at commandbegan to exert her tongue on the squire.

 "Brother" said she"I am astonished at yourbehaviour; will youneverlearn any regard to decorum? Will you still look upon everyapartmentas your ownor as belonging to one of your country tenants?Do youthink yourself at liberty to invade the privacies of women ofconditionwithout the least decency or notice?"-

"Whywhat a pox isthe matternow?" quoth the squire; "one would think I had caught youat-"

"None of your brutalitysirI beseech you" answeredshe.--'You havesurprized my poor niece sothat she can hardlyI seesupportherself.-- Gomy dearretireand endeavour to recruit yourspirits;for I see you have occasion." At which words Sophiawhoneverreceived a more welcome commandhastily withdrew.

  "Tobe suresister" cries the squire"you are madwhen IhavebroughtMr. Blifil here to court herto force her away."

 "Surebrother" says she"you are worse than madwhen you know inwhatsituation affairs areto-- I am sure I ask Mr. Blifil's pardonbut heknows very well to whom to impute so disagreeable areception.For my own partI am sure I shall always be very glad tosee Mr.Blifil; but his own good sense would not have suffered himto proceedso abruptlyhad you not compelled him to it."

 Blifil bowed and stammeredand looked like a fool; but Westernwithoutgiving him time to form a speech for the purposeanswered"WellwellI am to blameif you willI always amcertainly; butcomeletthe girl be fetched back againor let Mr. Blifil go toher.--He's come up on purposeand there is no time to be lost."

 "Brother" cries Mrs. Western"Mr. BlifilI amconfidentunderstandshimself better than to think of seeing my niece any morethismorningafter what hath happened. Women are of a nicecontexture;and our spiritswhen disorderedare not to be recomposedin amoment. Had you suffered Mr. Blifil to have sent hiscomplimentsto my nieceand to have desired the favour of waitingon her inthe afternoonI should possibly have prevailed on her tohave seenhim; but now I despair of bringing about any such matter."

  "Iam very sorrymadam" cried Blifil"that Mr. Western'sextraordinarykindness to mewhich I can never enough acknowledgeshouldhave occasioned-"

"Indeedsir" said sheinterrupting him"youneed make no apologieswe all know my brother so well."

  Idon't care what anybody knows of me" answered the squire;-

"butwhen musthe come to see her? forconsiderI tell youhe is come uponpurposeand so is Allworthy."

"Brother" said she"whatevermessageMr. Blifil thinks proper to send to my nieceshall bedeliveredto her; and I suppose she will want no instructions tomake aproper answer. I am convinced she will not refuse to see Mr.Blifil ata proper time."

"The devil she won't! " answered thesquire.

"Odsbud!- Don't we know- I say nothingbut some volk arewiser thanall the world.-- If I might have had my willshe had notrun awaybefore: and now I expect to hear every moment she is guoneagain. Foras great a fool as some volk think meI know very well shehates--"

"No matterbrother" replied Mrs. Western"I willnot hearmy nieceabused. It is a reflection on my family. She is an honourto it; andshe will be an honour to itI promise you. I will pawnmy wholereputation in the world on her conduct.-- I shall be glad tosee youbrotherin the afternoon; for I have somewhat ofimportanceto mention to you.- At presentMr. Blifilas well asyoumustexcuse me; for I am in haste to dress."

"Wellbut"saidthesquire"do appoint a time."

"Indeed" said she"I can appoint notime. Itell you I will see you in the afternoon."

"What the devilwould youhave me do?" cries the squireturning to Blifil; "I canno moreturn herthan a beagle can turn an old hare. Perhaps she willbe in abetter humour in the afternoon."

"I am condemnedI seesirtomisfortune" answered Blifil; "but I shall always own myobligationsto you." He then took a ceremonious leave of Mrs. Westernwho wasaltogether as ceremonious on her part; and then they departedthe squiremuttering to himself with an oaththat Blifil should seehisdaughter in the afternoon.

  IfMr. Western was little pleased with this interviewBlifil wasless. Asto the formerhe imputed the whole behaviour of his sisterto herhumour onlyand to her dissatisfaction at the omission ofceremonyin the visit; but Blifil saw a little deeper into things.Hesuspected somewhat of more consequencefrom two or three wordswhichdropt from the lady; andto say the truthhe suspectedrightaswill appear when I have unfolded the several matters whichwill becontained in the following chapter.

Chapter8
Schemes ofLady Bellaston for the ruin of Jones

 Love had taken too deep a root in the mind of Lord Fellamar to beplucked upby the rude hands of Mr. Western. In the heat of resentmenthe hadindeedgiven a commission to Captain Egglanewhich thecaptainhad far exceeded in the execution; nor had it been executed atallhadhis lordship been able to find the captain after he hadseen LadyBellastonwhich was in the afternoon of the day after hehadreceived the affront; but so industrious was the captain in thedischargeof his dutythathaving after long inquiry found out thesquire'slodgings very late in the eveninghe sat up all night at atavernthat he might not miss the squire in the morningand bythat meansmissed the revocation which my lord had sent to hislodgings.

  Inthe afternoon then next after the intended rape of Sophiahislordshipas we have saidmade a visit to Lady Bellastonwho laidopen somuch of the character of the squirethat his lordship plainlysaw theabsurdity he had been guilty of in taking any offence at hiswordsespecially as he had those honourable designs on hisdaughter.He then unbosomed the violence of his passion to LadyBellastonwho readily undertook the causeand encouraged him withcertainassurance of a most favourable reception from all the eldersof thefamilyand from the father himself when he should be soberand shouldbe made acquainted with the nature of the offer made to hisdaughter.The only dangershe saidlay in the fellow she hadformerlymentionedwhothough a beggar and a vagabondhadbysome meansor othershe knew not whatprocured himself tolerablecloathsand past for a gentleman. "Now" says she"as I haveforthe sakeof my cousinmade it my business to inquire after thisfellowIhave luckily found out his lodgings;" with which she thenacquaintedhis lordship. "I am thinkingmy lord" added she "(forthisfellow is too mean for your personal resentment)whether itwould notbe possible for your lordship to contrive some method ofhaving himpressed and sent on board a ship. Neither law norconscienceforbid this project: for the fellowI promise youhoweverwelldrestis but a vagabondand as proper as any fellow in thestreets tobe pressed into the service; and as for the conscientiouspartsurely the preservation of a young lady from such ruin is a mostmeritoriousact; naywith regard to the fellow himselfunless hecouldsucceed (which Heaven forbid) with my cousinit may probably bethe meansof preserving him from the gallowsand perhaps may make hisfortune inan honest way."

 Lord Fellamar very heartily thanked her ladyship for the partwhich shewas pleased to take in the affairupon the success of whichhis wholefuture happiness entirely depended. He saidhe saw atpresent noobjection to the pressing schemeand would consider ofputting itin execution. He then most earnestly recommended to herladyshipto do him the honour of immediately mentioning hisproposalsto the family; to whom he said he offered a carte blancheand wouldsettle his fortune in almost any manner they should require.And afteruttering many ecstasies and raptures concerning Sophiahetook hisleave and departedbut not before he had received thestrongestcharge to beware of Jonesand to lose no time in securinghispersonwhere he should no longer be in a capacity of making anyattemptsto the ruin of the young lady.

  Themoment Mrs. Western was arrived at her lodgingsa card wasdespatchedwith her compliments to Lady Bellaston; who no soonerreceivedit thanwith the impatience of a lovershe flew to hercousinrejoiced at this fair opportunitywhich beyond her hopesoffereditselffor she was much better pleased with the prospect ofmaking theproposals to a woman of senseand who knew the worldthanto agentleman whom she honoured with the appellation of Hottentot;thoughindeedfrom him she apprehended no danger of a refusal.

  Thetwo ladies being metafter very short previous ceremonialsfell tobusinesswhich was indeed almost as soon concluded asbegun; forMrs. Western no sooner heard the name of Lord Fellamar thanher cheeksglowed with pleasure; but when she was acquainted withtheeagerness of his passionthe earnestness of his proposalsandthegenerosity of his offershe declared her full satisfaction in themostexplicit terms.

  Inthe progress of their conversation their discourse turned toJonesandboth cousins very pathetically lamented the unfortunateattachmentwhich both agreed Sophia had to that young fellow; and Mrs.Westernentirely attributed it to the folly of her brother'smanagement.She concludedhoweverat lastwith declaring herconfidencein the good understanding of her niecewhothough shewould notgive up her affection in favour of BlifilwillI doubtnotsaysshesoon be prevailed upon to sacrifice a simpleinclinationto the addresses of a fine gentlemanwho brings herboth atitle and a large estate: "Forindeed" added she"Imustdo Sophythe justice to confess this Blifil is but a hideous kind offellowasyou knowBellastonall country gentlemen areand hathnothingbut his fortune to recommend him."

 "Nay" said Lady Bellaston"I don't then so muchwonder at mycousin;for I promise you this Jones is a very agreeable fellowandhath onevirtuewhich the men say is a great recommendation to us.What doyou thinkMrs. Western- I shall certainly make you laugh;nayI canhardly tell you myself for laughing- will you believe thatthe fellowhath had the assurance to make love to me? But if youshould beinclined to disbelieve ithere is evidence enoughhis ownhandwritingI assure you." She then delivered her cousin the letterwith theproposals of marriagewhichif the reader hath a desireto seehewill find already on record in the XVth book of thishistory.

 "Upon my wordI am astonished" said Mrs. Western; "thisisindeedamasterpiece of assurance. With your leaveI may possiblymake someuse of this letter."

"You have my full liberty" criesLadyBellaston"to apply it to what purpose you please. HoweverIwould nothave it shown to any but Miss Westernnor to her unless youfindoccasion."

"Welland how did you use the fellow?"returnedMrs.Western. "Not as a husband" said the lady; "I am notmarriedI promiseyoumy dear. You knowBellI have tried the comforts oncealready;and onceI thinkis enough for any reasonable woman."

 This letter Lady Bellaston thought would certainly turn thebalanceagainst Jones in the mind of Sophiaand she was emboldened togive ituppartly by her hopes of having him instantly dispatched outof thewayand partly by having secured the evidence of Honourwhouponsounding hershe saw sufficient reason to imagine waspreparedto testify whatever she pleased.

  Butperhaps the reader may wonder why Lady Bellastonwho in herhearthated Sophiashould be so desirous of promoting a match whichwas somuch to the interest of the young lady. NowI would desiresuchreaders to look carefully into human naturepage almost thelastandthere he will findin scarce legible charactersthatwomennotwithstanding the preposterous behaviour of mothersaunts&c.in matrimonial mattersdo in reality think it so great amisfortuneto have their inclinations in love thwartedthat theyimaginethey ought never to carry enmity higher than upon thesedisappointments;againhe will find it written much about the sameplacethat a woman who hath once been pleased with the possessionof a manwill go above halfway to the devilto prevent any otherwoman fromenjoying the same.

  Ifhe will not be contented with these reasonsI freely confess Isee noother motive to the actions of that ladyunless we willconceiveshe was bribed by Lord Fellamarwhich for my own part Isee nocause to suspect.

  Nowthis was the affair which Mrs. Western was preparing tointroduceto Sophiaby some prefatory discourse on the folly of loveand on thewisdom of legal prostitution for hirewhen her brother andBlifilbroke abruptly in upon her; and hence arose all that coldnessin herbehaviour to Blifilwhichthough the squireas was usualwith himimputed to a wrong causeinfused into Blifil himself (hebeing amuch more cunning man) a suspicion of the real truth.

Chapter9
In whichJones pays a visit to Mrs. Fitzpatrick

  Thereader may nowperhapsbe pleased to return with us to Mr.Joneswhoat the appointed hourattended on Mrs. Fitzpatrick; butbefore werelate the conversation which now pastit may be properaccordingto our methodto return a little backand to account forso greatan alteration of behaviour in this ladythat from changingherlodging principally to avoid Mr. Jonesshe had now industriouslyas hathbeen seensought this interview.

  Andhere we shall need only to resort to what happened the precedingdaywhenhearing from Lady Bellaston that Mr. Western was arrived intownshewent to pay her duty to himat his lodgings atPiccadillywhere she was received with many scurvy compellationstoo coarseto be repeatedand was even threatened to be kicked out ofdoors.From hencean old servant of her aunt Westernwith whom shewas wellacquaintedconducted her to the lodgings of that ladywhotreatedher not more kindlybut more politely; orto say thetruthwith rudeness in another way. In shortshe returned from bothplainlyconvincednot only that her scheme of reconciliation hadprovedabortivebut that she must for ever give over all thoughtsofbringing it about by any means whatever. From this moment desire ofrevengeonly filled her mind; and in this temper meeting Jones atthe playan opportunity seemed to her to occur of effecting thispurpose.

  Thereader must remember that he was acquainted by Mrs. Fitzpatrickin theaccount she gave of her own storywith the fondness Mrs.Westernhad formerly shewn for Mr. Fitzpatrick at Bathfrom thedisappointmentof which Mrs. Fitzpatrick derived the greatbitternessher aunt had expressed toward her. She hadthereforenodoubt butthat the good lady would as easily listen to the addressesof Mr.Jones as she had before done to the other; for thesuperiorityof charms was clearly on the side of Mr. Jones; and theadvancewhich her aunt had since made in ageshe concluded (howjustly Iwill not say)was an argument rather in favour of herprojectthan against it.

 Thereforewhen Jones attendedafter a previous declaration ofher desireof serving himarisingas she saidfrom a firm assurancehow muchshe should by so doing oblige Sophia; and after someexcusesfor her former disappointmentand after acquainting Mr. Jonesin whosecustody his mistress wasof which she thought himignorant;she very explicitly mentioned her scheme to himand advisedhim tomake sham addresses to the older ladyin order to procure aneasyaccess to the youngerinforming him at the same time of thesuccesswhich Mr. Fitzpatrick had formerly owed to the very samestratagem.

  Mr.Jones expressed great gratitude to the lady for the kindintentionstowards him which she had expressedand indeedtestifiedby this proposal; butbesides intimating some diffidenceof successfrom the lady's knowledge of his love to her niecewhichhad notbeen her case in regard to Mr. Fitzpatrickhe saidhe wasafraidMiss Western would never agree to an imposition of this kindas wellfrom her utter detestation of all fallacyas from heravowedduty to her aunt.

 Mrs. Fitzpatrick was a little nettled at this; and indeedif it maynot becalled a lapse of the tongueit was a small deviation frompolitenessin Jonesand into which he scarce would have fallenhadnot thedelight he felt in praising Sophia hurried him out of allreflection;for this commendation of one cousin was more than atacitrebuke on the other.

 "Indeedsir" answered the ladywith some warmth"Icannotthinkthere is anything easier than to cheat an old woman with aprofessionof lovewhen her complexion is amorous; andthough she ismy auntImust say there never was a more liquorish one than herladyship.Can't you pretend that the despair of possessing herniecefrom her being promised to Blifilhas made you turn yourthoughtstowards her? As to my cousin SophiaI can't imagine her tobe such asimpleton as to have the least scruple on such an accountor toconceive any harm in punishing one of these haggs for the manymischiefsthey bring upon families by their tragi-comic passions;for whichI think it is a pity they are not punishable by law. I hadno suchscruple myself; and yet I hope my cousin Sophia will not thinkit anaffront when I say she cannot detest every real species offalsehoodmore than her cousin Fitzpatrick. To my auntindeedIpretend nodutynor doth she deserve any. HoweversirI havegiven youmy advice; and if you decline pursuing itI shall havethe lessopinion of your understanding- that's all."

 Jones now clearly saw the error he had committedand exerted hisutmostpower to rectify it; but he only faultered and stuttered intononsenseand contradiction. To say the truthit is often safer toabide bythe consequences of the first blunder than to endeavour torectifyit; for by such endeavours we generally plunge deeperinstead ofextricating ourselves; and few persons will on suchoccasionshave the good-nature which Mrs. Fitzpatrick displayed toJonesbysayingwith a smile"You need attempt no more excuses; forI caneasily forgive a real loverwhatever is the effect offondnessfor his mistress."

  Shethen renewed her proposaland very fervently recommended itomittingno argument which her invention could suggest on the subject;for shewas so violently incensed against her auntthat scarceanythingwas capable of affording her equal pleasure with exposingher; andlike a true womanshe would see no difficulties in theexecutionof a favourite scheme.

 Joneshoweverpersisted in declining the undertakingwhich hadnotindeedthe least probability of success. He easily perceived themotiveswhich induced Mrs. Fitzpatrick to be so eager in pressingheradvice. He said he would not deny the tender and passionate regardhe had forSophia; but was so conscious of the inequality of theirsituationsthat he could never flatter himself so far as to hope thatso divinea young lady would condescend to think on so unworthy a man;nayheprotestedhe could scarce bring himself to wish she should.Heconcluded with a profession of generous sentimentswhich we havenot atpresent leisure to insert.

 There are some fine women (for I dare not here speak in toogeneralterms) with whom self is so predominantthat they neverdetach itfrom any subject; andas vanity is with them a rulingprinciplethey are apt to lay hold of whatever praise they meet withandthough the property of othersconvey it to their own use. In thecompany ofthese ladies it is impossible to say anything handsome ofanotherwoman which they will not apply to themselves; naythey oftenimprovethe praise they seize; asfor instanceif her beautyherwithergentilityher good humour deserve so much commendationwhatdo Ideservewho possess those qualities in so much more eminent adegree?

  Tothese ladies a man often recommends himself while he iscommendinganother woman; andwhile he is expressing ardour andgeneroussentiments for his mistressthey are considering what acharminglover this man would make to themwho can feel all thistendernessfor an inferior degree of merit. Of thisstrange as it mayseemIhave seen many instances besides Mrs. Fitzpatrickto whom allthisreally happenedand who now began to feel a somewhat for Mr.Jonesthesymptoms of which she much sooner understood than poorSophia hadformerly done.

  Tosay the truthperfect beauty in both sexes is a moreirresistibleobject than it is generally thought; fornotwithstandingsome of usare contented with more homely lotsand learn by rote(aschildren to repeat what gives them no idea) to despise outsideand tovalue more solid charms; yet I have always observedat theapproachof consummate beautythat these more solid charms only shinewith thatkind of lustre which the stars have after the rising ofthe sun.

 When Jones had finished his exclamationsmany of which would havebecome themouth of Oroondates himselfMrs. Fitzpatrick heaved a deepsighandtaking her eyes off from Joneson whom they had beensome timefixedand dropping them on the groundshe cried"IndeedMr. JonesI pity you; but it is the curse of such tendernessto bethrown away on those who are insensible of it. I know mycousinbetter than youMr. Jonesand I must sayany woman who makesno returnto such a passionand such a personis unworthy of both."

 "Suremadam" said Jones"you can't mean-"

"Mean!" cries Mrs.Fitzpatrick"I know not what I mean; there is somethingI thinkin truetenderness bewitching; few women ever meet it in menandfewerstill know how to value it when they do. I never heard suchtrulynoble sentimentsand I can't tell how it isbut you forceone tobelieve you. Sure she must be the most contemptible of womenwho canoverlook such merit."

  Themanner and look with which all this was spokeinfused asuspicioninto Joneswhich we don't care to convey in direct words tothereader. Instead of making any answerhe said"I am afraidmadamIhave made too tiresome a visit;" and offered to take hisleave.

 "Not at allsir" answered Mrs. Fitzpatrick.

"IndeedI pity youMr. Jones;indeed I do: but if you are goingconsider of the scheme Ihavementioned- I am convinced you will approve it- and let me see youagain assoon as you can.- To-morrow morning if you willor at leastsome timeto-morrow. I shall be at home all day."

 Jonesthenafter many expressions of thanksvery respectfullyretired;nor could Mrs. Fitzpatrick forbear making him a present ofa look atpartingby which if he had understood nothinghe must havehad nounderstanding in the language of the eyes. In realityitconfirmedhis resolution of returning to her no more; forfaulty ashe hathhitherto appeared in this historyhis whole thoughts were nowsoconfined to his Sophiathat I believe no woman upon earth couldhave nowdrawn him into an act of inconstancy.

 Fortunehoweverwho was not his friendresolvedas he intendedto giveher no second opportunityto make the best of this; andaccordinglyproduced the tragical incident which we are now insorrowfulnotes to record.

Chapter10
Theconsequence of the preceding visit

  Mr.Fitzpatrick having received the letter before mentioned fromMrs.Westernand being by that means acquainted with the place towhich hiswife was retiredreturned directly to Bathand thencethe dayafter set forward to London.

  Thereader hath been already often informed of the jealous temper ofthisgentleman. He may likewise be pleased to remember the suspicionwhich hehad conceived of Jones at Uptonupon his finding him inthe roomwith Mrs. Waters; andthough sufficient reasons hadafterwardsappeared entirely to clear up that suspicionyet now thereading sohandsome a character of Mr. Jones from his wifecaused himto reflectthat she likewise was in the inn at the same timeandjumbledtogether such a confusion of circumstances in a head which wasnaturallynone of the clearestthat the whole produced thatgreen-eyedmonster mentioned by Shakespear in his tragedy of Othello.

  Andnowas he was inquiring in the street after his wifeand hadjustreceived directions to the doorunfortunately Mr. Jones wasissuingfrom it.

 Fitzpatrick did not yet recollect the face of Jones; howeverseeinga youngwell-dressed fellow coming from his wifehe made directlyup to himand asked him what he had been doing in that house? "forI amsure" said he"you must have been in itas I saw youcomeout ofit."

 Jones answered very modestly"That he had been visiting a ladythere."To which Fitzpatrick replied"What business have you with thelady?"Upon which Joneswho now perfectly remembered the voicefeaturesand indeed coatof the gentlemancried out

"Hamy goodfriend!give me your hand; I hope there is no ill blood remainingbetweenusupon a small mistake which happened so long ago."

 "Upon my soulsir" said Fitzpatrick"I don't knowyour name noryourface."

"Indeedsir" said Jones"neither have Ithe pleasure ofknowingyour namebut your face I very well remember to have seenbefore atUptonwhere a foolish quarrel happened between uswhichif it isnot made up yetwe will now make up over a bottle."

  "AtUpton!" cried the other;-

"Ha! upon my soulI believeyourname isJones?"

"Indeed" answered he"it is."

"O!upon my soul"criesFitzpatrick"you are the very man I wanted to meet.- Upon mysoul Iwill drink a bottle with you presently; but first I will giveyou agreat knock over the pate. There is for youyou rascal. Upon mysoulifyou do not give me satisfaction for that blowI will giveyouanother." And thendrawing his swordput himself in a postureofdefencewhich was the only science he understood.

 Jones was a little staggered by the blowwhich came somewhatunexpectedly;but presently recovering himselfhe also drewandthough heunderstood nothing of fencingprest on so boldly uponFitzpatrickthat he beat down his guardand sheathed one half of hissword inthe body of the said gentlemanwho had no sooner receiveditthanhe stept backwardsdropped the point of his swordandleaningupon itcried"I have satisfaction enough: I am a dead man."

  "Ihope not" cries Jones"but whatever be the consequenceyoumust besensible you have drawn it upon yourself." At this instant anumber offellows rushed in and seized Joneswho told them heshouldmake no resistanceand begged some of them at least would takecare ofthe wounded gentleman.

 "Ay" cries one of the fellows"the wounded gentlemanwill be takencareenough of; for I suppose he hath not many hours to live. As foryousiryou have a month at least good yet."

"D--n meJack"saidanother"he hath prevented his voyage; he's bound to another portnow;"and many other such jests was our poor Jones made the subject ofby thesefellowswho were indeed the gang employed by LordFellamarand had dogged him into the house of Mrs. Fitzpatrickwaitingfor him at the corner of the street when this unfortunateaccidenthappened.

  Theofficer who commanded this gang very wisely concludedthathisbusiness was now to deliver his prisoner into the hands of thecivilmagistrate. He ordered himthereforeto be carried to apublic-housewherehaving sent for a constablehe delivered himto hiscustody.

  Theconstableseeing Mr. Jones very well drestand hearing thattheaccident had happened in a dueltreated his prisoner with greatcivilityand at his request dispatched a messenger to inquire afterthewounded gentlemanwho was now at a tavern under the surgeon'shands. Thereport brought back wasthat the wound was certainlymortaland there were no hopes of life. Upon which the constableinformedJonesthat he must go before a justice. He answered"Wheneveryou please; I am indifferent as to what happens to me; forthough Iam convinced I am not guilty of murder in the eye of the lawyet theweight of blood I find intolerable upon my mind."

 Jones was now conducted before the justicewhere the surgeon whodressedMr. Fitzpatrick appearedand deposed that he believed thewound tobe mortal; upon which the prisoner was committed to theGatehouse.It was very late at nightso that Jones would not send forPartridgetill the next morning; andas he never shut his eyes tillsevensoit was near twelve before the poor fellowwho was greatlyfrightenedat not hearing from his master so longreceived amessagewhich almost deprived him of his being when he heard it.

  Hewent to the Gatehouse with trembling knees and a beating heartand was nosooner arrived in the presence of Jonesthan he lamentedthemisfortune that had befallen him with many tearslooking allthe whilefrequently about him in great terror; for as the news nowarrivedthat Mr. Fitzpatrick was deadthe poor fellow apprehendedeveryminute that his ghost would enter the room. At last he deliveredhim aletterwhich he had like to have forgotand which came fromSophia bythe hands of Black George.

 Jones presently dispatched every one out of the roomandhavingeagerlybroke open the letterread as follows:-

  Youowe the hearing from me again to an accident which I ownsurprizesme. My aunt hath just now shown me a letter from you to LadyBellastonwhich contains a proposal of marriage. I am convinced it isyour ownhand; and what more surprizes me isthat it is dated atthe verytime when would have me imagine you was under such concern onmyaccount.- I leave you to comment on this fact. All I desire isthat yourname may never more be mentioned to

                                                 S. W.

  Ofthe present situation of Mr. Jones's mindand of the pangswith whichhe was now tormentedwe cannot give the roader a betteridea thanby sayinghis misery was such that even Thwackum wouldalmosthave pitied him. Butbad as it iswe shall at present leavehim in itas his good genius (if he really had any) seems to havedone. Andhere we put an end to the sixteenth book of our history.

BOOK XVIICONTAININGTHREE DAYS

Chapter1
Containinga portion of introductory writing

 When a comic writer hath made his principal characters as happy ashe canorwhen a tragic writer hath brought them to the highest pitchof humanmiserythey both conclude their business to be doneandthat theirwork is come to a period.

  Hadwe been of the tragic complexionthe reader must now allow wewerenearly arrived at this periodsince it would be difficult forthe devilor any of his representatives on earthto have contrivedmuchgreater torments for poor Jones than those in which we left himin thelast chapter; and as for Sophiaa good-natured woman wouldhardlywish more uneasiness to a rival than what she must at presentbesupposed to feel. What then remains to complete the tragedy but amurder ortwoand a few moral sentences!

  Butto bring our favourites out of their present anguish anddistressand to land them at last on the shore of happinessseemsa muchharder task; a taskindeedso hard that we do not undertaketo executeit. In regard to Sophiait is more than probable that weshallsomewhere or other provide a good husband for her in the end-eitherBlifilor my lordor somebody else; but as to poor Jonessuch arethe calamities in which he is at present involvedowing tohisimprudenceby whichif a man doth not become felon to the worldhe is atleast a felo de se; so destitute is he now offriendsandsopersecuted by enemiesthat we almost despair of bringing him toany good;and if our reader delights in seeing executionsI thinkhe oughtnot to lose any time in taking a first row at Tyburn.

 This I faithfully promisethatnotwithstanding any affection whichwe may besupposed to have for this roguewhom we haveunfortunatelymade our heroewe will lend him none of thatsupernaturalassistance with which we are entrustedupon conditionthat weuse it only on very important occasions. If he doth notthereforefind some natural means of fairly extricating himselffrom allhis distresseswe will do no violence to the truth anddignity ofhistory for his sake; for we had rather relate that hewas hangedat Tyburn (which may very probably be the case) thanforfeitour integrityor shock the faith of our reader.

  Inthis the antients had a great advantage over the moderns. Theirmythologywhich was at that time more firmly believed by the vulgarthan anyreligion is at presentgave them always an opportunity ofdeliveringa favourite heroe. Their deities were always ready at thewriter'selbowto execute any of his purposes; and the moreextraordinarythe invention wasthe greater was the surprize anddelight ofthe credulous reader. Those writers could with greater easehaveconveyed a heroe from one country to anothernay from oneworld toanotherand have brought him back againthan a poorcircumscribedmodern can deliver him from a jail.

  TheArabians and Persians had an equal advantage in writing theirtales fromthe genii and fairieswhich they believe in as anarticle oftheir faithupon the authority of the Koran itself. But wehave noneof these helps. To natural means alone we are confined;let us trytherefore whatby these meansmay be done for poor Jones;thoughtoconfess the truthsomething whispers me in the earthathe dothnot yet know the worst of his fortune; and that a moreshockingpiece of news than any he hath yet heard remains for him intheunopened leaves of fate.

Chapter2
Thegenerous and grateful behaviour of Mrs. Miller

  Mr.Allworthy and Mrs. Miller were just sat down to breakfastwhenBlifilwho had gone out very early that morningreturned tomake oneof the company.

  Hehad not been long seated before he began as follows: "GoodLord! mydear unclewhat do you think hath happened? I vow I amafraid oftelling it youfor fear of shocking you with theremembranceof ever having shewn any kindness to such a villain."

"Whatis the matterchild?" said the uncle. "I fear I have shownkindnessin my life to the unworthy more than once. But charity dothnot adoptthe vices of its objects."

"Osir! " returned Blifil"itis notwithout the secret direction of Providence that you mention thewordadoption. Your adopted sonsirthat Jonesthat wretch whom younourishedin your bosomhath proved one of the greatest villains uponearth."

"By all that's sacred'tis false" cries Mrs. Miller. "Mr.Jones isno villain. He is one of the worthiest creatures breathing;and if anyother person had called him villainI would have thrownall thisboiling water in his face." Mr. Allworthy looked very muchamazed atthis behaviour. But she did not give him leave to speakbeforeturning to himshe cried"I hope you will not be angrywith me; Iwould not offend yousirfor the world; butindeedIcould notbear to hear him called so."

"I must ownmadam" saidAllworthyvery gravely"I am a little surprized to hear you sowarmlydefend a fellow you do not know."

"O! I do know himMr.Allworthy"said she"indeed I do; I should be the most ungrateful ofallwretches if I denied it. O! he hath preserved me and my littlefamily; wehave all reason to bless him while we live.- And I prayHeaven tobless himand turn the hearts of his malicious enemies. IknowIfindI seehe hath such."

"You surprize memadamstillmore"said Allworthy; "sure you must mean some other. It isimpossibleyou should have any such obligations to the man my nephewmentions."

"Too surely" answered she"I have obligations to himofthegreatest and tenderest kind. He hath been the preserver of meand mine.Believe mesirhe hath been abusedgrossly abused to you;I know hehathor youwhom I know to be all goodness and honourwould notafter the many kind and tender things I have heard yousay ofthis poor helpless childhave so disdainfully called himfellow.-Indeedmy best of friendshe deserves a kinder appellationfrom youhad you heard the goodthe kindthe grateful thingswhich Ihave heard him utter of you. He never mentions your name butwith asort of adoration. In this very room I have seen him on hiskneesimploring all the blessings of heaven upon your head. I donot lovethat child there better than he loves you."

  "Iseesirnow" said Blifilwith one of those grinning sneerswith whichthe devil marks his best beloved"Mrs. Miller reallydoth knowhim. I suppose you will find she is not the only one of youracquaintanceto whom he hath exposed you. As for my characterIperceiveby some hints she hath thrown outhe hath been very freewith itbut I forgive him."

"And the Lord forgive yousir!"saidMrs.Miller; "we have all sins enough to stand in need of hisforgiveness."

 "Upon my wordMrs. Miller" said Allworthy"I do nottake thisbehaviourof yours to my nephew kindly; and I do assure youas anyreflectionswhich you cast upon him must come only from that wickedestof menthey would only serveif that were possibleto heighten myresentmentagainst him: for I must tell youMrs. Millerthe youngman whonow stands before you hath ever been the warmest advocatefor theungrateful wretch whose cause you espouse. ThisI thinkwhenyou hearit from my own mouthwill make you wonder at so muchbasenessand ingratitude."

 "You are deceivedsir" answered Mrs. Miller; "ifthey were thelast wordswhich were to issue from my lipsI would say you weredeceived;and I once more repeat itthe Lord forgive those who havedeceivedyou! I do not pretend to say the young man is without faults;but theyare all the faults of wildness and of youth; faults whichhe maynaywhich I am certain he willrelinquishandif he shouldnottheyare vastly overbalanced by one of the most humanetenderhonesthearts that ever man was blest with."

 "IndeedMrs. Miller" said Allworthy"had this beenrelated ofyouIshould not have believed it."

"Indeedsir" answeredshe"youwillbelieve everything I have saidI am sure you will: and whenyou haveheard the story which I shall tell you (for I will tell youall)youwill be so far from being offendedthat you will own (Iknow yourjustice so well)that I must have been the mostdespicableand most ungrateful of wretches if I had acted any otherpart thanI have."

 "Wellmadam" said Allworthy"I shall be very gladto hear anygoodexcuse for a behaviour whichI must confessI think wants anexcuse.And nowmadamwill you be pleased to let my nephew proceedin hisstory without interruption. He would not have introduced amatter ofslight consequence with such a preface. Perhaps even thisstory willcure you of your mistake."

 Mrs. Miller gave tokens of submissionand then Mr. Blifil beganthus: "Iam suresirif you don't think proper to resent theill-usageof Mrs. MillerI shall easily forgive what affects me only.I thinkyour goodness hath not deserved this indignity at herhands."

"Wellchild" said Allworthy"but what is this newinstance?What hathhe done of late?"

"What" cries Blifil"notwithstanding allMrs.Miller hath saidI am very sorry to relateand what youshouldnever have heard from mehad it not been a matter impossibleto concealfrom the whole world. In shorthe hath killed a man; Iwill notsay murdered- for perhaps it may not be so construed in lawand I hopethe best for his sake."

 Allworthy looked shockedand blessed himself; and thenturningto Mrs.Millerhe cried"Wellmadamwhat say you now?"

 "WhyI saysir" answered she"that never was moreconcerned atanythingin my life; butif the fact be trueI am convinced the manwhoever heiswas in fault. Heaven knows there are many villains inthis townwho make it their business to provoke young gentlemen.Nothingbut the greatest provocation could have tempted him; for ofall thegentlemen I ever had in my houseI never saw one so gentle orsosweet-tempered. He was beloved by everyone in the houseandevery onewho came near it."

 While she was thus running ona violent knocking at the doorinterruptedtheir conversationand prevented her from proceedingfurtheror from receiving any answer; foras she concluded thiswas avisitor to Mr. Allworthyshe hastily retiredtaking with herher littlegirlwhose eyes were all over blubbered at themelancholynews she heard of Joneswho used to call her his littlewifeandnot only gave her many playthingsbut spent whole hoursin playingwith her himself.

 Some readers mayperhapsbe pleased with these minutecircumstancesin relating of which we follow the example of Plutarchone of thebest of our brother historians; and othersto whom theymay appeartrivialwillwe hopeat least pardon themas we areneverprolix on such occasions.

Chapter3
Thearrival of Mr. Westernwith some matters concerning thepaternalauthority

 Mrs. Miller had not long left the room when Mr. Western entered; butnot beforea small wrangling bout had passed between him and hischairmen;for the fellowswho had taken up their burden at theHerculesPillarshad conceived no hopes of having any future goodcustomerin the squire; and they were moreover farther encouraged byhisgenerosity (for he had given them of his own accord sixpencemore thantheir fare); they therefore very boldly demanded anothershillingwhich so provoked the squirethat he not only bestowed manyheartycurses on them at the doorbut retained his anger after hecame intothe room; swearing that all the Londoners were like thecourtandthought of nothing but plundering country gentlemen. "D--nme"says he"if I won't walk in the rain rather than get into oneoftheirhand-barrows again. They have jolted me more in a mile thanBrown Besswould in a long fox-chase."

 When his wrath on this occasion was a little appeasedhe resumedthe samepassionate tone on another. "There" says he"thereisfinebusiness forwards now. The hounds have changed at last; andwhen weimagined we had a fox to deal withod-rat itit turns out tobe abadger at last!

 "Praymy good neighbour" said Allworthy"drop yourmetaphorsandspeak alittle plainer."

"Whythen" says the squire"totell youplainlywe have been all this time afraid of a son of a whore of abastard ofsomebody'sI don't know whosenot I. And now here's aconfoundedson of a whore of a lordwho may be a bastard too for whatI know orcarefor he shall never have a daughter of mine by myconsent.They have beggared the nationbut they shall never beggarme. Myland shall never be sent over to Hanover."

 "You surprize me muchmy good friend" said Allworthy."Whyzounds! Iam surprized myself" answered the squire. "I went to zeesisterWestern last nightaccording to her own appointmentand thereI was hadinto a whole room full of women. There was my lady cousinBellastonand my Lady Bettyand my Lady Catherineand my lady Idon't knowwho; d--n meif ever you catch me among such a kennel ofhoop-petticoatb-s! D--n meI'd rather be run by my own dogsas oneActon wasthat the story-book says was turned into a hareand hisown dogskilled un and eat un. Odrabbit itno mortal was ever runin such amanner; if I dodged one wayone had me; if I offered toclap backanother snapped me. 'O! certainly one of the greatestmatches inEngland' says one cousin (here he attempted to mimicthem); 'Avery advantageous offer indeed' cries another cousin (foryou mustknow they be all my cousinsthof I never zeed half o' umbefore).'Surely' says that fat a-se b--my Lady Bellaston'cousinyou must be out of your wits to think of refusing such anoffer.'"

 "Now I begin to understand" says Allworthy; "someperson hathmadeproposals to Miss Westernwhich the ladies of the familyapprovebut is not to your liking."

  "Myliking!" said Western"how the devil should it? I tell youitis a lordand those are always volks whom you know I alwaysresolvedto have nothing to do with. Did unt I refuse a matter ofvortyyears' purchase now for a bit of landwhich one o' um had amind toput into a parkonly because I would have no dealings withlordsanddost think I would marry my daughter zu? Besidesben't Iengaged toyouand did I ever go off any bargain when I hadpromised?"

  "Asto that pointneighbour" said Allworthy"I entirelyreleaseyou fromany engagement. No contract can be binding between partieswho havenot a full power to make it at the timenor everafterwardsacquire the power of fulfilling it."

 "Slud! then" answered Western"I tell you I havepowerand I willfulfil it.Come along with me directly to Doctors' CommonsI will geta licence;and I will go to sister and take away the wench by forceand sheshall ha unor I will lock her upand keep her upon breadand wateras long as she lives."

 "Mr. Western" said Allworthy"shall I beg you willhear my fullsentimentson this matter?"

"Hear thee; ayto be sure I will"answeredhe. "Whythensir" cries Allworthy"I can trulysaywithout acompliment either to you or the young ladythat when thismatch wasproposedI embraced it very readily and heartilyfrom myregard toyou both. An alliance between two families so nearlyneighboursand between whom there had always existed so mutual anintercourseand good harmonyI thought a most desirable event; andwithregard to the young ladynot only the concurrent opinion ofall whoknew herbut my own observation assured me that she wouldbe aninestimable treasure to a good husband. I shall say nothing ofherpersonal qualificationswhich certainly are admirable; her goodnatureher charitable dispositionher modestyare too well known toneed anypanegyric: but she hath one quality which existed in a highdegree inthat best of womenwho is now one of the first of angelswhichasit is not of a glaring kindmore commonly escapesobservation;so little indeed is it remarkedthat I want a word toexpressit. I must use negatives on this occasion. I never heardanythingof pertnessor what is called reparteeout of her mouth; nopretenceto witmuch less to that kind of wisdom which is theresultonly of great learning and experiencethe affectation ofwhichina young womanis as absurd as any of the affectations of anape. Nodictatorial sentimentsno judicial opinionsno profoundcriticisms.Whenever I have seen her in the company of menshe hathbeen allattentionwith the modesty of a learnernot the forwardnessof ateacher. You'll pardon me for itbut I onceto try her onlydesiredher opinion on a point which was controverted between Mr.Thwackumand Mr. Square. To which she answeredwith much sweetness'You willpardon megood Mr. Allworthy; I am sure you cannot inearnestthink me capable of deciding any point in which two suchgentlemendisagree.' Thwackum and Squarewho both alike thoughtthemselvessure of a favourable decisionseconded my request. Sheansweredwith the same good humour'I must absolutely be excused: forI willaffront neither so much as to give my judgment on his side.'Indeedshe always shewed the highest deference to theunderstandingsof men; a quality absolutely essential to the makinga goodwife. I shall only addthat as she is most apparently voidof allaffectationthis deference must be certainly real."

 Here Blifil sighed bitterly; upon which Westernwhose eyes werefull oftears at the praise of Sophiablubbered out"Don't bechicken-heartedfor shat ha herd--n meshat ha herif she wastwentytimes as good."

 "Remember your promisesir" cried Allworthy"I wasnot to beinterrupted."

"Wellshat unt" answered the squire; "I won't speakanotherword."

 "Nowmy good friend" continued Allworthy"I havedwelt so long onthe meritof this young ladypartly as I really am in love with hercharacterand partly that fortune (for the match in that light isreallyadvantageous on my nephew's side) might not be imagined to bemyprincipal view in having so eagerly embraced the proposal.IndeedIheartily wished to receive so great a jewel into myfamily;but though I may wish for many good thingsI would notthereforesteal themor be guilty of any violence or injustice topossessmyself of them. Now to force a woman into a marriagecontraryto her consent or approbationis an act of such injusticeandoppressionthat I wish the laws of our country could restrain it;but a goodconscience isnever lawless in the worst regulatedstateandwill provide those laws for itselfwhich the neglect oflegislatorshath forgotten to supply. This is surely a case of thatkind; foris it not cruelnayimpiousto force a woman into thatstateagainst her will; for her behaviour in which she is to beaccountableto the highest and most dreadful court of judicatureand toanswer at the peril of her soul? To discharge the matrimonialduties inan adequate manner is no easy task; and shall we lay thisburthenupon a womanwhile we at the same time deprive her of allthatassistance which may enable her to undergo it? Shall we tearher veryheart from herwhile we enjoin her duties to which a wholeheart isscarce equal? I must speak very plainly here. I think parentswho act inthis manner are accessories to all the guilt which theirchildrenafterwards incurand of course mustbefore a just judgeexpect topartake of their punishment; but if they could avoid thisgoodheaven! is there a soul who can bear the thought of havingcontributedto the damnation of his child?

 "For these reasonsmy best neighbouras I see the inclinationsof thisyoung lady are most unhappily averse to my nephewI mustdeclineany further thoughts of the honour you intended himthoughI assureyou I shall always retain the most grateful sense of it."

 "Wellsir" said Western (the froth bursting forth fromhis lipsthe momentthey were uncorked)"you cannot say but I have heard yououtandnow I expect you'll hear me; and if I don't answer every wordon'twhythen I'll consent to gee the matter up. First thenI desireyou toanswer me one question- Did not I beget her? did not I begether?answer me that. They sayindeedit is a wise father thatknows hisown child; but I am sure I have the best title to herfor Ibred herup. But I believe you will allow me to be her fatherandif I beam I not to govern my own child? I ask you thatam I notto governmy own child? and if I am to govern her in other matterssurely Iam to govern her in thiswhich concerns her most. And whatam Idesiring all this while? Am I desiring her to do anything for me:to give meanything?- Zu much on t'other sidethat I am onlydesiringher to take away half my estate nowand t'other half whenI die.Welland what is it all vor? Whyis unt it to make her happy?It'senough to make one mad to hear volks talk; if I was going tomarrymyselfthen she would ha reason to cry and to blubber; buton thecontraryhan't I offered to bind down my land in such amannerthat I could not marry if I wouldseeing as narro' woman uponearthwould ha me. What the devil in hell can I do more? Icontributeto her damnation!- Zounds! I'd zee all the world d--n'dbevore herlittle vinger should be hurt. IndeedMr. Allworthyyoumustexcuse mebut I am surprized to hear you talk in zuch amannerand I must saytake it how you willthat I thought you hadmoresense."

 Allworthy resented this reflection only with a smile; nor couldheif hewould have endeavoured ithave conveyed into that smile anymixture ofmalice or contempt. His smiles at folly were indeed such aswe maysuppose the angels bestow on the absurdities of mankind.

 Blifil now desired to be permitted to speak a few words. "As tousing anyviolence on the young ladyI am sure I shall neverconsent toit. My conscience will not permit me to use violence on anyonemuchless on a lady for whomhowever cruel she is to meI shallalwayspreserve the purest and sincerest affection; but yet I haveread thatwomen are seldom proof against perseverance. Why may I nothope thenby such perseverance at last to gain those inclinationsin whichfor the future I shallperhapshave no rival; for as forthis lordMr. Western is so kind to prefer me to him; and suresiryouwill not deny but that a parent hath at least a negativevoice inthese matters; nayI have heard this very young lady herselfsay somore than onceand declare that she thought childreninexcusablewho married in direct opposition to the will of theirparents.Besidesthough the other ladies of the family seem to favourthepretensions of my lordI do not find the lady herself is inclinedto givehim any countenance; alas! I am too well assured she is not; Iam toosensible that wickedest of men remains uppermost in her heart."

 "Ayayso he does" cries Western.

 "But surely" says Blifil"when she hears of thismurder which hehathcommittedif the law should spare his life--"

 "What's that?" cries Western. "Murder! hath hecommitted a murderand isthere any hopes of seeing him hanged?-Tol de roltol lol derol."Here he fell a singing and capering about the room.

 "Child" says Allworthy"this unhappy passion ofyours distressesme beyondmeasure. I heartily pity youand would do every fairthing topromote your success."

  "Idesire no more" cries Blifil; "I am convinced my dearuncle hatha betteropinion of me than to think that I myself would accept ofmore."

 "Lookee" says Allworthy"you have my leave to writeto visitif shewill permit it- but I insist on no thoughts of violence. Iwill haveno confinementnothing of that kind attempted."

 "Wellwell" cries the squire"nothing of that kindshall beattempted;we will try a little longer what fair means will effect;and ifthis fellow be but hanged out of the way- Tol lol de rol! Ineverheard better news in my life- I warrant everything goes to mymind.- Dopritheedear Allworthycome and dine with me at theHerculesPillars: I have bespoke a shoulder of mutton roastedand aspare-ribof porkand a fowl and egg-sauce. There will be nobodybutourselvesunless we have a mind to have the landlord; for Ihave sentParson Supple down to Basingstoke after my tobacco-boxwhich Ileft at an inn thereand I would not lose it for the world;for it isan old acquaintance of above twenty years' standing. I cantell youlandlord is a vast comical bitchyou will like un hugely."

  Mr.Allworthy at last agreed to this invitationand soon afterthe squirewent offsinging and capering at the hopes of seeing thespeedytragical end of poor Jones.

 When he was goneMr. Allworthy resumed the aforesaid subject withmuchgravity. He told his nephew"He wished with all his heart hewouldendeavour to conquer a passionin which I cannot" says he"flatteryou with any hopes of succeeding. It is certainly a vulgarerrorthat aversion in a woman may be conquered by perseverance.Indifferencemayperhapssometimes yield to it; but the usualtriumphsgained by perseverence in a lover are over capriceprudenceaffectationand often an exorbitant degree of levitywhich exciteswomen notover-warm in their constitutions to indulge their vanitybyprolonging the time of courtshipeven when they are well enoughpleasedwith the objectand resolve (if they ever resolve at all)to makehim a very pitiful amends in the end. But a fixed dislikeas I amafraid this iswill rather gather strength than beconqueredby time. Besidesmy dearI have another apprehension whichyou mustexcuse. I am afraid this passion which you have for this fineyoungcreature hath her beautiful person too much for its objectand isunworthy of the name of that love which is the onlyfoundationof matrimonial felicity. To admireto likeand to longfor thepossession of a beautiful womanwithout any regard to hersentimentstowards usisI am afraidtoo natural; but loveIbelieveis the child of love only; at leastI am pretty confidentthat tolove the creature who we are assured hates us is not inhumannature. Examine your heartthereforethoroughlymy goodboyandifupon examinationyou have but the least suspicion ofthis kindI am sure your own virtue and religion will impel you todrive sovicious a passion from your heartand your good sense willsoonenable you to do it without pain."

  Thereader may pretty well guess Blifil's answer; butif heshould beat a losswe are not at present at leisure to satisfyhimasour history now hastens on to matters of higher importanceand we canno longer bear to be absent from Sophia.

Chapter4
Anextraordinary scene between Sophia and her aunt

  Thelowing heifer and the bleating ewein herds and flocksmayramblesafe and unregarded through the pastures. These areindeedhereafterdoomed to be the prey of man; yet many years are theysufferedto enjoy their liberty undisturbed. But if a plump doe bediscoveredto have escaped from the forestand to repose herself insome fieldor grovethe whole parish is presently alarmedeveryman isready to set dogs after her; andif she is preserved fromthe restby the good squireit is only that he may secure her for hisowneating.

  Ihave often considered a very fine young woman of fortune andfashionwhen first found strayed from the pale of her nurserytobe inpretty much the same situation with this doe. The town isimmediatelyin an uproar; she is hunted from park to playfromcourt toassemblyfrom assembly to her own chamberand rarelyescapes asingle season from the jaws of some devourer or other;forifher friends protect her from someit is only to deliver herover toone of their own chusingof more disagreeable to her than anyof therest; while whole herds or flocks of other women securelyand scarceregardedtraverse the parkthe playthe operaand theassembly;and thoughfor the most part at leastthey are at lastdevouredyet for a long time do they wanton in libertywithoutdisturbanceor controul.

  Ofall these paragons none ever tasted more of this persecution thanpoorSophia. Her ill stars were not contented with all that she hadsufferedon account of Blifilthey now raised her another pursuerwho seemedlikely to torment her no less than the other had done.For thoughher aunt was less violentshe was no less assiduous inteizingherthan her father had been before.

  Theservants were no sooner departed after dinnerthan Mrs.Westernwho had opened the matter to Sophiainformed her"Thatsheexpected his lordship that very afternoonand intended to takethe firstopportunity of leaving her alone with him."

"If you domadam"answered Sophiawith some spirit"I shall take the firstopportunityof leaving him by himself."

"How! madam!" cries theaunt; "isthis the return you make me for my kindness in relieving youfrom yourconfinement at your father's?"

"You knowmadam" saidSophia"the cause of that confinement was a refusal to comply with myfather inaccepting a man I detestedand will my dear auntwhohathrelieved me from that distressinvolve me in another equallybad?"

"And do you think thenmadam" answered Mrs. Westernthatthere isno difference between my Lord Fellamar and Mr. Blifil?"

"Verylittleinmy opinion" cries Sophia; "andif I must be condemnedto oneIwould certainly have the merit of sacrificing myself to myfather'spleasure."

"Then my pleasureI find" said the aunt"hathverylittle weight with you; but that consideration shall not move me.I act fromnobler motives. The view of aggrandizing my familyofennoblingyourselfis what I proceed upon. Have you no sense ofambition?Are there no charms in the thoughts of having a coronet onyourcoach?"

"Noneupon my honour" said Sophia. "Apincushion uponmy coachwould please me just as well."

"Never mention honour"cries theaunt. "It becomes not the mouth of such a wretch. I amsorrynieceyou force me to use these wordsbut I cannot bearyourgroveling temper; you have none of the blood of the Westerns inyou. Buthowever mean and base your own ideas areyou shall bring noimputationon mine. I will never suffer the world to say of me thatIencouraged you in refusing one of the best matches in England; amatchwhichbesides its advantage in fortunewould do honour toalmost anyfamilyand hathindeedin titlethe advantage of ours."

"Surely"says Sophia"I am born deficientand have not the senseswith whichother people are blessed; there must be certainly somesensewhich can relish the delights of sound and showwhich I havenot; forsurely mankind would not labour so muchnor sacrifice somuch forthe obtainingnor would they be so elate and proud withpossessingwhat appeared to themas it doth to methe mostinsignificantof all trifles."

 "Nonomiss" cries the aunt; "you are born with asmany senses asotherpeople; but I assure youyou are not born with a sufficientunderstandingto make a fool of meor to expose my conduct to theworld; soI declare this to youupon my wordand you knowIbelievehow fixed my resolutions areunless you agree to see hislordshipthis afternoonI willwith my own handsdeliver youto-morrowmorning to my brotherand will never henceforth interferewith younor see your face again." Sophia stood a few momentssilentafter this speechwhich was uttered in a most angry andperemptorytone; and thenbursting into tearsshe cryed"Do withmemadamwhatever you please; I am the most miserable undonewretchupon earth; if my dear aunt forsakes mewhere shall I look foraprotector?"

"My dear niece" cries she"you willhave a very goodprotectorin his lordship; a protector whom nothing but a hankeringafter thatvile fellow Jones can make you decline."

"Indeedmadam"saidSophia"you wrong me. How can you imagineafter what you haveshewn meif I had ever any such thoughtsthat I should not banishthem forever? If it will satisfy youI will receive the sacramentupon itnever to see his face again."

"Butchilddear child"saidthe aunt"be reasonable; can you invent a single objection?"

"IhavealreadyI thinktold you a sufficient objection answeredSophia."What?" cries the aunt; "I remember none."

"Suremadam" saidSophia"Itold you he had used me in the rudest and vilest manner."

"Indeedchild" answered she"I never heard youor did notunderstandyou:- but what do you mean by this rudevile manner?"

"Indeedmadamsaid Sophia"I am almost ashamed to tell you. Hecaught mein his armspulled me down upon the setteeand thrusthis handinto my bosomand kissed it with such violence that I havethe markupon my left breast at this moment."

"Indeed!" saidMrs.Western."Yesindeedmadam" answered Sophia; "my fatherluckilycame in atthat instantor Heaven knows what rudeness he intendedto haveproceeded to."

"I am astonished and confounded" criestheaunt. "Nowoman of the name of Western hath been ever treated so sincewe were afamily. I would have torn the eyes of a prince outif hehadattempted such freedoms with me. It is impossible! sureSophiayou mustinvent this to raise my indignation against him."

"I hopemadam"said Sophia"you have too good an opinion of me to imagine mecapable oftelling an untruth. Upon my soul it is true."

"I shouldhavestabbed him to the hearthad I been present" returned theaunt."Yetsurely he could have no dishonourable design; it is impossible!he durstnot: besideshis proposals shew he hath not; for they arenot onlyhonourablebut generous. I don't know; the age allows toogreatfreedoms. A distant salute is all I would have allowed beforetheceremony. I have had lovers formerlynot so long ago neither;severalloversthough I never would consent to marriageand Ineverencouraged the least freedom. It is a foolish customand what Ineverwould agree to. No man kissed more of me than my cheek. It is asmuch asone can bring oneself to give lips up to a husband; andindeedcould I ever have been persuaded to marryI believe Ishould nothave soon been brought to endure so much."

"You will pardonmedearmadam" said Sophia"if I make one observation: you ownyou havehad many loversand the world knows iteven if you shoulddeny it.You refused them allandI am convincedone coronet atleastamong them."

"You say truedear Sophy" answered she;"I hadonce theoffer of a title."

"Whythen" said Sophia"willyou notsuffer meto refuse this once?"

"It is truechildsaid she"Ihaverefused the offer of a title; but it was not so good an offer;that isnot so veryvery good an offer."

"Yesmadam" saidSophia;"but you have had very great proposals from men of vastfortunes.It was not the firstnor the secondnor the thirdadvantageousmatch that offered itself."

"I own it was not" saidshe."Wellmadam" continued Sophia"and why may not I expect to haveasecondperhapsbetter than this? You are now but a young womanand I amconvinced would not promise to yield to the first lover offortunenayor of title too. I am a very young womanand sure Ineed notdespair."

"Wellmy deardear Sophy" cries the aunt"whatwould you have me say?"

"WhyI only beg that I may not beleftaloneat least this evening; grant me thatand I will submitif youthinkafter what is pastI ought to see him in your company."

"WellI will grant it" cries the aunt. "Sophyyou know I loveyouandcan deny you nothing. You know the easiness of my nature; Ihave notalways been so easy. I have been formerly thought cruel; bythe menImean. I was called the cruel Parthenissa. I have broke manya windowthat has had verses to the cruel Parthenissa in it. SophyI wasnever so handsome as youand yet I had something youformerly.I am a little altered. Kingdoms and statesas TullyCicerosays in his epistlesundergo alterationsand so must thehumanform." Thus run she on for near half an hour upon herselfandherconquestsand her crueltytill the arrival of my lordwhoafter amost tedious visitduring which Mrs. Western never onceoffered toleave the roomretirednot much more satisfied with theaunt thanwith the niece; for Sophia had brought her aunt into soexcellenta temperthat she consented to almost everything herniecesaid; and agreed that a little distant behaviour might not beimproperto so forward a lover.

 Thus Sophiaby a little well-directed flatteryfor which surelynone willblame herobtained a little ease for herselfandatleastputoff the evil day. And now we have seen our heroine in abettersituation than she hath been for a long time beforewe willlook alittle after Mr. Joneswhom we left in the most deplorablesituationthat can be well imagined.

Chapter5
Mrs.Miller and Mr. Nightingale visit Jones in the prison

 When Mr. Allworthy and his nephew went to meet Mr. WesternMrs.Miller setforwards to her son-in-law's lodgingsin order to acquainthim withthe accident which had befallen his friend Jones; but hehad knownit long before from Partridge (for Joneswhen he leftMrs.Millerhad been furnished with a room in the same house with Mr.Nightingale).The good woman found her daughter under great afflictionon accountof Mr. Joneswhom having comforted as well as she couldshe setforwards to the Gatehousewhere she heard he wasand whereMr.Nightingale was arrived before her.

  Thefirmness and constancy of a true friend is a circumstance soextremelydelightful to persons in any kind of distressthat thedistressitselfif it be only temporaryand admits of reliefismore thancompensated by bringing this comfort with it. Nor areinstancesof this kind so rare as some superficial and inaccurateobservershave reported. To say the truthwant of compassion is notto benumbered among our general faults. The black ingredient whichfouls ourdisposition is envy. Hence our eye is seldomI am afraidturnedupward to those who are manifestly greaterbetterwiserorhappierthan ourselveswithout some degree of malignity; while wecommonlylook downwards on the mean and miserable with sufficientbenevolenceand pity. In factI have remarkedthat most of thedefectswhich have discovered themselves in the friendships withinmyobservationhave arisen from envy only: a hellish vice; and yetone fromwhich I have known very few absolutely exempt. But enoughof asubject whichif pursuedwould lead me too far.

 Whether it was that Fortune was apprehensive lest Jones shouldsink underthe weight of his adversityand that she might thus loseany futureopportunity of tormenting himor whether she really abatedsomewhatof her severity towards himshe seemed a little to relax herpersecutionby sending him the company of two such faithfulfriendsand what is perhaps more rarea faithful servant. ForPartridgethough he had many imperfectionswanted not fidelity;and thoughfear would not suffer him to be hanged for his masteryet theworldI believecould not have bribed him to desert hiscause.

 While Jones was expressing great satisfaction in the presence of hisfriendsPartridge brought an account that Mr. Fitzpatrick was stillalivethough the surgeon declared that he had very little hopes. UponwhichJones fetching a deep sighNightingale said to him"My dearTomwhyshould you afflict yourself so upon an accidentwhichwhateverbe the consequencecan be attended with no danger to youand inwhich your conscience cannot accuse you of having been theleast toblame? If the fellow should diewhat have you done more thantaken awaythe life of a ruffian in your own defence? So will thecoroner'sinquest certainly find it; and then you will be easilyadmittedto bail; andthough you must undergo the form of a trialyet it isa trial which many men would stand for you for ashilling."

"ComecomeMr. Jones" says Mrs. Miller"chearyourselfup. I knew you could not be the aggressorand so I toldMr.Allworthyand so he shall acknowledge toobefore I have donewith him."

 Jones gravely answered"That whatever might be his fateheshouldalways lament the having shed the blood of one of hisfellow-creaturesas one of the highest misfortunes which could havebefallenhim. But I have another misfortune of the tenderest kind-- O!Mrs.MillerI have lost what I held most dear upon earth."

"Thatmustbe amistress" said Mrs. Miller; "but comecome; I know morethanyouimagine" (for indeed Partridge had blabbed all); "and Ihave heardmore thanyou know. Matters go betterI promise youthan youthink; andI would not give Blifil sixpence for all the chance whichhe hath ofthe lady."

 "Indeedmy dear friendindeed" answered Jones"youare an entirestrangerto the cause of my grief. If you was acquainted with thestoryyouwould allow my case admitted of no comfort. I apprehendno dangerfrom Blifil. I have undone myself."

"Don't despair"repliedMrs.Miller; "you know not what a woman can do; and if anything bein mypowerI promise you I will do it to serve you. It is my duty.My sonmydear Mr. Nightingalewho is so kind to tell me he hathobligationsto you on the same accountknows it is my duty. Shall Igo to thelady myself? I will say anything to her you would have mesay."

 "Thou best of women" cries Jonestaking her by the hand"talk notofobligations to me;-- but as you have been so kind to mention itthere is afavour whichperhapsmay be in your power. I see youareacquainted with the lady (how you came by your information Iknow not)who sitsindeedvery near my heart. If you could contriveto deliverthis (giving her a paper from his pocket)I shall for everacknowledgeyour goodness."

 "Give it me" said Mrs. Miller. "If I see it not inher ownpossessionbefore I sleepmay my next sleep be my last! Comfortyourselfmy good young man! be wise enough to take warning frompastfolliesand I warrant all shall be welland I shall yet see youhappy withthe most charming young lady in the world; for I so hearfrom everyone she is."

 "Believe memadam" said he"I do not speak thecommon cant of onein myunhappy situation. Before this dreadful accident happenedI hadresolvedto quit a life of which I was become sensible of thewickednessas well as folly. I do assure younotwithstanding thedisturbancesI have unfortunately occasioned in your houseforwhich Iheartily ask your pardonI am not an abandoned profligate.Though Ihave been hurried into vicesI do not approve a viciouscharacternor will I everfrom this momentdeserve it."

 Mrs. Miller expressed great satisfaction in these declarationsinthesincerity of which she averred she had an entire faith; and nowtheremainder of the conversation past in the joint attempts of thatgood womanand Mr. Nightingale to cheer the dejected spirits of Mr.Jonesinwhich they so far succeeded as to leave him much bettercomfortedand satisfied than they found him; to which happy alterationnothing somuch contributed as the kind undertaking of Mrs. Millerto deliverhis letter to Sophiawhich he despaired of finding anymeans toaccomplish; for when Black George produced the last fromSophiaheinformed Partridge that she had strictly charged himonpain ofhaving it communicated to her fathernot to bring her anyanswer. Hewasmoreovernot a little pleased to find he had sowarm anadvocate to Mr. Allworthy himself in this good womanwho wasinrealityone of the worthiest creatures in the world.

 After about an hour's visit from the lady (for Nightingale hadbeen withhim much longer)they both took their leavepromising toreturn tohim soon; during which Mrs. Miller said she hoped to bringhim somegood news from his mistressand Mr. Nightingale promisedto enquireinto the state of Mr. Fitzpatrick's woundand likewiseto findout some of the persons who were present at the rencounter.

  Theformer of these went directly in quest of Sophiawhither welikewiseshall now attend her.

Chapter6
In whichMrs. Miller pays a visit to Sophia

 Access to the young lady was by no means difficult; foras shelived nowon a perfect friendly footing with her auntshe was at fullliberty toreceive what visitants she pleased.

 Sophia was dressingwhen she was acquainted that there was agentlewomanbelow to wait on her. As she was neither afraidnorashamedto see any of her own sexMrs. Miller was immediatelyadmitted.

 Curtsies and the usual ceremonials between women who are strangersto eachotherbeing pastSophia said"I have not the pleasure toknow youmadam."

"Nomadam" answered Mrs. Miller"and Imust begpardon forintruding upon you. But when you know what has induced meto giveyou this troubleI hope--"

"Praywhat is your businessmadam?"said Sophiawith a little emotion. "Madamwe are not alone"repliedMrs. Millerin a low voice. "Go outBetty" said Sophia.

 When Betty was departedMrs. Miller said"I was desiredmadambya veryunhappy young gentlemanto deliver you this letter." Sophiachangedcolour when she saw the directionwell knowing the handand aftersome hesitationsaid

"I could not conceivemadamfromyourappearancethat your business had been of such a nature.-Whomeveryou brought this letter fromI shall not open it. I shouldbe sorryto entertain an unjust suspicion of any one; but you are anutterstranger to me."

  "Ifyou will have patiencemadam" answered Mrs. Miller"Iwillacquaintyou who I amand how I came by that letter."

"I have nocuriositymadamto know anything" cries Sophia; "but I mustinsist onyour delivering that letter back to the person who gave ityou."

 Mrs. Miller then fell upon her kneesand in the most passionatetermsimplored her compassion; to which Sophia answered: "Suremadamit issurprizing you should be so very strongly interested in thebehalf ofthis person. I would not thinkmadam"

"Nomadam."saysMrs.Miller"you shall not think anything but the truth. I willtell youalland you will not wonder that I am interested. He isthebest-natured creature that ever was born."-- She then began andrelatedthe story of Mr. Anderson.-- After this she cried"Thismadamthis is his goodness; but I have much more tender obligationsto him. Hehath preserved my child."-- Hereafter shedding sometearssherelated everything concerning that factsuppressing onlythosecircumstances which would have most reflected on her daughterandconcluded with saying"Nowmadamyou shall judge whether Ican everdo enough for so kindso goodso generous a young man;and surehe is the best and worthiest of all human beings."

  Thealterations in the countenance of Sophia had hitherto beenchiefly toher disadvantageand had inclined her complexion to toogreatpaleness; but she now waxed redderif possiblethan vermilionand cried"I know not what to say; certainly what arises fromgratitudecannot be blamed-- But what service can my reading thisletter doyour friendsince I am resolved never--" Mrs. Miller fellagain toher entreatiesand begged to be forgivenbut she could notshe saidcarry it back. "Wellmadam" says Sophia"I cannothelpitif youwill force it upon me.- Certainly you may leave itwhetherI will orno." What Sophia meantor whether she meant anythingIwill notpresume to determine; but Mrs. Miller actually understoodthis as ahintand presently laying the letter down on the tabletook herleavehaving first begged permission to wait again onSophia;which request had neither assent nor denial.

  Theletter lay upon the table no longer than till Mrs. Miller wasout ofsight; for then Sophia opened and read it.

 This letter did very little service to his cause; for it consistedof littlemore than confessions of his own unworthinessand bitterlamentationsof despairtogether with the most solemn protestationsof hisunalterable fidelity to Sophiaof whichhe saidhe hopedtoconvince herif he had ever more the honour of being admitted toherpresence; and that he could account for the letter to LadyBellastonin such a mannerthatthough it would not entitle him toherforgivenesshe hoped at least to obtain it from her mercy. Andconcludedwith vowing that nothing was ever less in his thoughtsthan tomarry Lady Bellaston.

 Though Sophia read the letter twice over with great attentionhismeaningstill remained a riddle to her; nor could her inventionsuggest toher any means to excuse Jones. She certainly remainedvery angrywith himthough indeed Lady Bellaston took up so much ofherresentmentthat her gentle mind had but little left to bestowon anyother person.

 That lady was most unluckily to dine this very day with her auntWesternand in the afternoon they were all threeby appointmentto gotogether to the operaand thence to Lady Thomas Hatchet's drum.Sophiawould have gladly been excused from allbut would notdisobligeher aunt; and as to the arts of counterfeiting illnessshe was soentirely a stranger to themthat it never once enteredinto herhead. When she was drestthereforedown she wentresolvedto encounter all the horrors of the dayand a mostdisagreeableone it proved; for Lady Bellaston took everyopportunityvery civilly and slily to insult her; to all which herdejectionof spirits disabled her from making any return; andindeedto confessthe truthshe was at the very best but an indifferentmistressof repartee.

 Another misfortune which befel poor Sophiawas the company ofLordFellamarwhom she met at the operaand who attended her tothe drum.And though both places were too publick to admit of anyparticularitiesand she was farther relieved by the musick at the oneplaceandby the cards at the othershe could nothoweverenjoyherself inhis company; for there is something of delicacy in womenwhich willnot suffer them to be even easy in the presence of a manwhom theyknow to have pretensions to themwhich they are disinclinedto favour.

 Having in this chapter twice mentioned a druma word which ourposterityit is hopedwill not understand in the sense it is hereappliedwe shallnotwithstanding our present hastestop a moment todescribethe entertainment here meantand the rather as we can in amomentdescribe it.

  Adrumthenis an assembly of well-dressed persons of bothsexesmost of whom play at cardsand the rest do nothing at all;while themistress of the house performs the part of the landlady atan innand like the landlady of an inn prides herself in the numberof hergueststhough she doth not alwayslike herget anything byit.

  Nowonder thenas so much spirits must be required to support anyvivacityin these scenes of dulnessthat we hear persons of fashioneternallycomplaining of the want of them; a complaint confinedentirelyto upper life. How insupportable must we imagine this roundofimpertinence to have been to Sophia at this time; how difficultmust shehave found it to force the appearance of gaiety into herlookswhen her mind dictated nothing but the tenderest sorrowandwhen everythought was charged with tormenting ideas!

 Nighthoweverat last restored her to her pillowwhere we willleave herto soothe her melancholy at leastthough incapablewefearofrestand shall pursue our historywhichsomething whispersusis nowarrived at the eve of some great event.

Chapter7
A patheticscene between Mr. Allworthy and Mrs. Miller

 Mrs. Miller had a long discourse with Mr. Allworthyat his returnfromdinnerin which she acquainted him with Jones's havingunfortunatelylost all which he was pleased to bestow on him attheirseparation; and with the distresses to which that loss hadsubjectedhim; of all which she had received a full account from thefaithfulretailer Partridge. She then explained the obligations shehad toJones; not that she was entirely explicit with regard to herdaughter;for though she had the utmost confidence in Mr. Allworthyand thoughthere could be no hopes of keeping an affair secret whichwasunhappily known to more than half a dozenyet she could notprevailwith herself to mention those circumstances which reflectedmost onthe chastity of poor Nancybut smothered that part of herevidenceas cautiously as if she had been before a judgeand the girlwas now onher trial for the murder of a bastard.

 Allworthy saidthere were few characters so absolutely vicious asnot tohave the least mixture of good in them. "However" says he"Icannot deny but that you have some obligations to the fellowbadas he isand I shall therefore excuse what hath past alreadybutmustinsist you never mention his name to me more; forI promise youit wasupon the fullest and plainest evidence that I resolved totake themeasures I have taken."

"Wellsir" says she"Imake notthe leastdoubt but time will shew all matters in their true andnaturalcoloursand that you will be convinced this poor young mandeservesbetter of you than some other folks that shall be nameless."

 "Madam" cries Allworthya little ruffied"I willnot hear anyreflectionson my nephew; and if ever you say a word more of thatkindIwill depart from your house that instant. He is theworthiestand best of men; and I once more repeat it to youhe hathcarriedhis friendship to this man to a blameable lengthby toolongconcealing facts of the blackest die. The ingratitude of thewretch tothis good young man is what I most resent; formadamIhave thegreatest reason to imagine he had laid a plot to supplantmy nephewin my favourand to have disinherited him."

  "Iam suresir" answered Mrs. Millera little frightened (forthough Mr.Allworthy had the utmost sweetness and benevolence in hissmileshehad great terror in his frowns)"I shall never speakagainstany gentleman you are pleased to think well of. I am suresirsuchbehaviour would very little become meespecially when thegentlemanis your nearest relation; butsiryou must not be angrywith meyou must not indeedfor my good wishes to this poorwretch.Sure I may call him so nowthough once you would have beenangry withme if I had spoke of him with the least disrespect. Howoften haveI heard you call him your son? How often have youprattledto me of him with all the fondness of a parent? NaysirIcannotforget the many tender expressionsthe many good things youhave toldme of his beautyand his partsand his virtues; of hisgood-natureand generosity. I am suresirI cannot forget themfor I findthem all true. I have experienced them in my own cause.They havepreserved my family. You must pardon my tearssirindeedyou must.When I consider the cruel reverse of fortune which this pooryouthtowhom I am so much obligedhath suffered; when I considerthe lossof your favourwhich I know he valued more than his lifeI mustImust lament him. If you had a dagger in your handreadyto plungeinto my heartI must lament the misery of one whom you havelovedandI shall ever love."

 Allworthy was pretty much moved with this speechbut it seemednot to bewith anger; forafter a short silencetaking Mrs. Millerby thehandhe said very affectionately to her"Comemadamletusconsider a little about your daughter. I cannot blame you forrejoicingin a match which promises to be advantageous to herbut youknow thisadvantagein a great measuredepends on the father'sreconciliation.I know Mr. Nightingale very welland have formerlyhadconcerns with him; I will make him a visitand endeavour to serveyou inthis matter. I believe he is a worldly man; but as this is anonly sonand the thing is now irretrievableperhaps he may in timebe broughtto reason. I promise you I will do all I can for you."

 Many were the acknowledgments which the poor woman made to Allworthyfor thiskind and generous offernor could she refrain from takingthisoccasion again to express her gratitude towards Jones"towhom"said she"I owe the opportunity of giving yousirthis presenttrouble."Allworthy gently stopped her; but he was too good a man tobe reallyoffended with the effects of so noble a principle as nowactuatedMrs. Miller; and indeedhad not this new affair inflamed hisformeranger against Jonesit is possible he might have been a littlesoftenedtowards himby the report of an action which malice itselfcould nothave derived from an evil motive.

  Mr.Allworthy and Mrs. Miller had been above an hour togetherwhen theirconversation was put an end to by the arrival of Blifil andanotherpersonwhich other person no less than Mr. Dowlingtheattorneywho was now become a great favourite with Mr. Blifilandwhom Mr.Allworthyat the desire of his nephewhad made his steward;and hadlikewise recommended him to Mr. Westernfrom whom theattorneyreceived a promise of being promoted to the same officeupon thefirst vacancy; andin the meantimewas employed intransactingsome affairs which the squire then had in London inrelationto a mortgage.

 This was the principal affair which then brought Mr. Dowling totown;therefore he took the same opportunity to charge himself withsome moneyfor Mr. Allworthyand to make a report to him of someotherbusiness; in all whichas it was of much too dull a nature tofind anyplace in this historywe will leave the unclenephewandtheirlawyer concernedand resort to other matters.

Chapter8
Containingvarious matters

 Before we return to Mr. Joneswe will take one more view of Sophia.

 Though that young lady had brought her aunt into great good humourby thosesoothing methods which we have before relatedshe had notbroughther in the least to abate of her zeal for the match withLordFellamar. This zeal was now inflamed by Lady Bellastonwho hadtold herthe preceding eveningthat she was well satisfied from theconduct ofSophiaand from her carriage to his lordshipthat alldelayswould be dangerousand that the only way to succeed was topress thematch forward with such rapidity that the young ladyshouldhave no time to reflectand be obliged to consent while shescarceknew what she did; in which mannershe saidone-half of themarriagesamong people of condition were brought about. A fact veryprobablytrueand to whichI supposeis owing the mutual tendernesswhichafterwards exists among so many happy couples.

  Ahint of the same kind was given by the same lady to Lord Fellamar;and boththese so readily embraced the advicethat the very nextday wasat his lordship's requestappointed by Mrs. Western for aprivateinterview between the young parties. This was communicatedto Sophiaby her auntand insisted upon in such high termsthatafterhaving urged everything she possibly could invent against itwithoutthe least effectshe at last agreed to give the highestinstanceof complacence which any young lady can giveand consentedto see hislordship.

  Asconversations of this kind afford no great entertainmentweshall beexcused from reciting the whole that past at thisinterview;in whichafter his lordship had made many declarationsof themost pure and ardent passion to the silent blushing Sophiasheat lastcollected all the spirits she could raiseand with atremblinglow voice said"My lordyou must be yourself consciouswhetheryour former behaviour to me hath been consistent with theprofessionsyou now make."

"Is there" answered he"no wayby which Ican atonefor madness? what I didI am afraidmust have tooplainlyconvinced youthat the violence of love had deprived me of mysenses."

"Indeedmy lord" said she"it is in your power togiveme a proofof an affection which I much rather wish to encourageand towhich I should think myself more beholden."

"Name itmadam"said mylordvery warmly. "My lord" says shelooking down uponher fan"I know you must be sensible how uneasy this pretendedpassion ofyours hath made me."

"Can you be so cruel to call itpretended?"says he. "Yesmy lord" answered Sophia"allprofessionsof love tothose whom we persecute are most insulting pretences.Thispursuit of yours is to me a most cruel persecution: nayit istaking amost ungenerous advantage of my unhappy situation."

"Mostlovelymost adorable charmerdo not accuse me" cries he"oftakinganungenerous advantagewhile I have no thoughts but what aredirectedto your honour and interestand while I have no viewnohopenoambitionbut to throw myselfhonourfortuneeverything atyourfeet."

"My lord" says she"it is that fortuneand those honourswhich gaveyou the advantage of which I complain. These are the charmswhich haveseduced my relationsbut to me they are thingsindifferent.If your lordship will merit my gratitudethere is butone way."

"Pardon medivine creature" said he"there can benone.All I cando for you is so much your dueand will give me so muchpleasurethat there is no room for your gratitude."

"Indeedmylord"answered she"you may obtain my gratitudemy good opinionevery kindthought and wish which it is in my power to bestow; nayyou mayobtain them with easefor sure to a generous mind it mustbe easy togrant my request. Let me beseech youthento cease apursuit inwhich you can never have any success. For your own sakeas well asmineI entreat this favour; for sure you are too nobleto haveany pleasure in tormenting an unhappy creature. What canyourlordship propose but uneasiness to yourself by a perseverancewhichupon my honourupon my soulcannotshall not prevail withmewhatever distresses you may drive me to." Here my lord fetched adeep sighand then said

"Is it thenmadamthat I am so unhappy tobe theobject of your dislike and scorn; or will you pardon me if Isuspectthere is some other?" Here he hesitatedand Sophia answeredwith somespirit"My lordI shall not be accountable to you forthereasons of my conduct. I am obliged to your lordship for thegenerousoffer you have made; I own it is beyond either my desertsorexpectations; yet I hopemy lordyou will not insist on myreasonswhen I declare I cannot accept it." Lord Fellamar returnedmuch tothiswhich we do not perfectly understandand perhaps itcould notall be strictly reconciled either to sense or grammar; butheconcluded his ranting speech with saying"That if she hadpre-engagedherself to any gentlemanhowever unhappy it would makehimheshould think himself bound in honour to desist." Perhaps mylord laidtoo much emphasis on the word gentleman; for we cannotelse wellaccount for the indignation with which he inspired Sophiawhoinher answerseemed greatly to resent some affront he had givenher.

 While she speakingwith her voice more raised than usualMrs.Westerncame into the roomthe fire glaring in her cheeksand theflamesbursting from her eyes. "I am ashamed" says she"mylordof thereception which you have met with. I assure your lordshipweare allsensible of the honour done us; and I must tell youMissWesternthe family expect a different behaviour from you." Here mylordinterfered on behalf of the young ladybut to no purpose; theauntproceeded till Sophia pulled her handkerchiefthrew herself intoa chairand burst into a violent fit of tears.

  Theremainder of the conversation between Mrs. Western and hislordshiptill the latter withdrewconsisted of bitter lamentationson hissideand on hers of the strongest assurances that her nieceshould andwould consent to all he wished. "Indeedmy lord" saysshe"thegirl hath had a foolish educationneither adapted to herfortunenor her family. Her fatherI am sorry to say itis toblame foreverything. The girl hath silly country notions ofbashfulness.Nothing elsemy lordupon my honour; I am convinced shehath agood understanding at the bottomand will be brought toreason."

 This last speech was made in the absence of Sophia; for she had sometimebefore left the roomwith more appearance of passion than shehad evershown on any occasion; and now his lordshipafter manyexpressionsof thanks to Mrs. Westernmany ardent professions ofpassionwhich nothing could conquerand many assurances ofperseverancewhich Mrs. Western highly encouragedtook his leave forthis time.

 Before we relate what now passed between Mrs. Western and Sophiaitmay beproper to mention an unfortunate accident which had happenedand whichhad occasioned the return of Mrs. Western with so much furyas we haveseen.

  Thereader then must knowthat the maid who at present attendedon Sophiawas recommended by Lady Bellastonwith whom she had livedfor sometime in the capacity of a comb-brush: she was a very sensiblegirlandhad received the strictest instructions to watch her younglady verycarefully. These instructionswe are sorry to saywerecommunicatedto her by Mrs. Honourinto whose favour Lady Bellastonhad now soingratiated herselfthat the violent affection which thegoodwaiting-woman had formerly borne to Sophia was entirelyobliteratedby that great attachment which she had to her newmistress.

 Nowwhen Mrs. Miller was departedBetty (for that was the nameof thegirl)returning to her young ladyfound her veryattentivelyengaged in reading a long letterand the visible emotionswhich shebetrayed on that occasion might have well accounted for somesuspicionswhich the girl entertained; but indeed they had yet astrongerfoundationfor she had overheard the whole scene whichpassedbetween Sophia and Mrs. Miller.

 Mrs. Western was acquainted with all this matter by Bettywhoafterreceiving many commendations and some rewards for herfidelitywas orderedthatif the woman who brought the lettercameagainshe should introduce her to Mrs. Western herself.

 UnluckilyMrs. Miller returned at the very time when Sophia wasengagedwith his lordship. Bettyaccording to ordersent herdirectlyto the aunt; whobeing mistress of so many circumstancesrelatingto what had past the day beforeeasily imposed upon the poor

 womanto believe that Sophia had communicated the whole affair; andso pumpedeverything out of her which she knew relating to theletter andrelating to Jones.

 This poor creature mightindeedbe called simplicity itself. Shewas one ofthat order of mortals who are apt to believe everythingwhich issaid to them; to whom nature hath neither indulged theoffensivenor defensive weapons of deceitand who are consequentlyliable tobe imposed upon by any one who will only be at the expenseof alittle falsehood for that purpose. Mrs. Westernhaving drainedMrs.Miller of all she knewwhichindeedwas but littlebutwhich wassufficient to make the aunt suspect a great dealdismissedher with assurances that Sophia would not see herthatshe wouldsend no answer to the letternor ever receive another;nor didshe suffer her to depart without a handsome lecture on themerits ofan office to which she could afford no better name than thatofprocuress.- This discovery had greatly discomposed her temperwhencoming into the apartment next to that in which the lovers weresheoverheard Sophia very warmly protesting against his lordship'saddresses.At which the rage already kindled burst forthand sherushed inupon her niece in a most furious manneras we havealreadydescribedtogether with what past at that time till hislordship'sdeparture.

  Nosooner was Lord Fellamar gonethan Mrs. Western returned toSophiawhom she upbraided in the most bitter terms for the ill useshe hadmade of the confidence reposed in her; and for her treacheryinconversing with a man with whom she had offered but the daybefore tobind herself in the most solemn oath never more to haveanyconversation. Sophia protested she had maintained no suchconversation."Howhow! Miss Western" said the aunt; "will youdeny yourreceiving a letter from him yesterday?"

"A lettermadam!"answeredSophiasomewhat surprized. "It is not very well bredmiss"repliesthe aunt"to repeat my words. I say a letterand I insistupon yourshowing it me immediately."

"I scorn a liemadam"saidSophia; "Idid receive a letterbut it was without my desireandindeedImay sayagainst my consent."

"Indeedindeedmiss"cries theaunt"you ought to be ashamed of owning you had received itat all;but where is the letter? for I will see it."

  Tothis peremptory demandSophia paused some time before shereturnedan answer; and at last only excused herself by declaringshe hadnot the letter in her pocketwhich wasindeedtrue; uponwhich herauntlosing all manner of patienceasked her niece thisshortquestionwhether she would resolve to marry Lord Fellamarorno? towhich she received the strongest negative. Mrs. Western thenrepliedwith an oathor something very like onethat she would earlythe nextmorning deliver her back into her father's hand.

 Sophia then began to reason with her aunt in the followingmanner:

"Whymadammust I of necessity be forced to marry at all?Considerhow cruel you would have thought it in your own caseand howmuchkinder your parents were in leaving you to your liberty. Whathave Idone to forfeit this liberty? I will never marry contrary to myfather'sconsentnor without asking yours-- And when I ask theconsent ofeither improperlyit will be then time enough to forcesome othermarriage upon me. "Can I bear to hear this" cries Mrs.Western"from a girl who hath now a letter from a murderer in herpocket?"

"I have no such letterI promise you" answered Sophia;"andif he be a murdererhe will soon be in no condition to give youanyfurther disturbance."

"HowMiss Western!" said theaunt"haveyou theassurance to speak of him in this manner; to own youraffectionfor such a villain to my face?"

"Suremadam" saidSophia"you put a very strange construction on my words."

"IndeedMissWestern" cries the lady"I shall not bear this usage; youhavelearnt of your father this manner of treating me; he hathtaught youto give me the lie. He hath totally ruined you by thisfalsesystem of education; andplease heavenhe shall have thecomfort ofits fruits; for once more I declare to youthatto-morrowmorning I will carry you back. I will withdraw all my forcesfrom thefieldand remain henceforthlike the wise king ofPrussiain a state of perfect neutrality. You are both too wise to beregulatedby my measures; so prepare yourselffor to-morrow morningyou shallevacuate this house."

 Sophia remonstrated all she could; but her aunt was deaf to allshe said.In this resolution therefore we must at present leave heras thereseems to be no hopes of bringing her to change it.

Chapter9
Whathappened to Mr. Jones in the prison

  Mr.Jones passed about twenty-four melancholy hours by himselfunlesswhen relieved by the company of Partridgebefore Mr.Nightingalereturned; not that this worthy young man had deserted orforgot hisfriend; forindeedhe had been much the greatest partof thetime employed in his service.

  Hehad heardupon enquirythat the only persons who had seen thebeginningof the unfortunate rencounter were a crew belonging to aman-of-warwhich then lay at Deptford. To Deptford therefore he wentin searchof this crewwhere he was informed that the men he soughtafter wereall gone ashore. He then traced them from place to placetill atlast he found two of them drinking togetherwith thirdpersonata hedge-tavern near Aldersgate.

 Nightingale desired to speak with Jones by himself (for Partridgewas in theroom when he came in). As soon as they were aloneNightingaletaking Jones by the handcried"Comemy bravefriendbenot too much dejected at what I am going to tell you-- I amsorry I amthe messenger of bad news; but I think it my duty to tellyou."

"I guess already what that bad news is" cries Jones. "Thepoorgentleman then is dead."-

"I hope not" answeredNightingale."Hewas alive this morning; though I will not flatter you; I fearfrom theaccounts I could getthat his wound is mortal. But if theaffair beexactly as you told ityour own remorse would be all youwould havereason to apprehendlet what would happen; but forgive memy dearTomif I entreat you to make the worst of your story toyourfriends. If you disguise anything to usyou will only be anenemy toyourself."

 "What reasonmy dear Jackhave I ever given you" saidJones"tostab me with so cruel a suspicion?"

"Have patience"criesNightingale"and I will tell you all. After the most diligent enquiryI couldmakeI at last met with two of the fellows who were presentat thisunhappy accidentand I am sorry to saythey do not relatethe storyso much in your favour as you yourself have told it."

"Whywhat do they say?" cries Jones. "Indeed what I am sorry torepeatasI am afraid of the consequence of it to you. They saythat theywere at too great a distance to overhear any words thatpassedbetween you: but they both agree that the first blow wasgiven byyou."

"Thenupon my soul" answered Jones"theyinjureme. He notonly struck me firstbut struck me without the leastprovocation.What should induce those villains to accuse mefalsely?"

"Naythat I cannot guess" said Nightingale"and ifyouyourselfand Iwho am so heartily your friendcannot conceive areason whythey should belie youwhat reason will an indifferentcourt ofjustice be able to assign why they should not believe them? Irepeatedthe question to them several timesand so did anothergentlemanwho was presentwhoI believeis a seafaring manand whoreallyacted a very friendly part by you; for he begged them often toconsiderthat there was the life of a man in the case; and askedthem overand overif they were certain; to which they both answeredthat theywereand would abide by their evidence upon oath. Forheaven'ssakemy dear friendrecollect yourself; forif this shouldappear tobe the factit will be your business to think in time ofmaking thebest of your interest. I would not shock you; but you knowI believethe severity of the lawwhatever verbal provocations mayhave beengiven you."

"Alas! my friend" cries Jones"whatinteresthath sucha wretch as I? Besidesdo you think I would even wish tolive withthe reputation of a murderer? If I had any friends (asalas! Ihave none)could I have the confidence to solicit them tospeak inthe behalf of a man condemned for the blackest crime in humannature?Believe meI have no such hope; but I have some reliance on athronestill greatly superior; which willI am certainafford me alltheprotection I merit."

  Hethen concluded with many solemn and vehement protestations of thetruth ofwhat he had at first asserted.

  Thefaith of Nightingale was now again staggeredand began toincline tocredit his friendwhen Mrs. Miller appearedand made asorrowfulreport of the success of her embassy; which when Jones hadheardhecried out most heroically"Wellmy friendI am nowindifferentas to what shall happenat least with regard to mylife; andif it be the will of Heaven that I shall make an atonementwith thatfor the blood I have spiltI hope the Divine Goodnesswill oneday suffer my honour to be clearedand that the words of adying manat leastwill be believedso far as to justify hischaracter."

  Avery mournful scene now past between the prisoner and his friendsat whichas few readers would have been pleased to be presentsofewIbelievewill desire to hear it particularly related. Wewillthereforepass on to the entrance of the turnkeywhoacquaintedJones that there was a lady without who desired to speakwith himwhen he was at leisure.

 Jones declared his surprize at this message. He said"He knewnolady inthe world whom he could possibly expect to see there."Howeveras he saw no reason to decline seeing any personMrs. Millerand Mr.Nightingale presently took their leaveand he gave ordersto havethe lady admitted.

  IfJones was surprized at the news of a visit from a ladyhowgreatlywas he astonished when he discovered this lady to be noother thanMrs. Waters! In this astonishment then we shall leave himawhileinorder to cure the surprize of the readerwho willlikewiseprobablynot a little wonder at the arrival of this lady.

  Whothis Mrs. Waters wasthe reader pretty well knows; what shewashemust be perfectly satisfied. He will therefore be pleased torememberthat this lady departed from Upton in the same coach with Mr.Fitzpatrickand the other Irish gentlemanand in their companytravelledto Bath.

  Nowthere was a certain office in the gift of Mr. Fitzpatrick atthat timevacantnamely that of a wife: for the lady who had latelyfilledthat office had resignedor at least deserted her duty. Mr.Fitzpatrickthereforehaving thoroughly examined Mrs. Waters on theroadfound her extremely fit for the placewhichon their arrivalat Bathhe presently conferred upon herand she without anyscrupleaccepted. As husband and wife this gentleman and ladycontinuedtogether all the time they stayed at Bathand as husbandand wifethey arrived together in town.

 Whether Mr. Fitzpatrick was so wise a man as not to part with onegood thingtill he had secured anotherwhich he had at present only aprospector whether Mrs. Waters had so well discharged her officethat heintended still to retain her as principaland to make hiswife (asis often the case) only her deputyI will not say; butcertain itishe never mentioned his wife to hernevercommunicatedto her the letter given him by Mrs. Westernnor everoncehinted his purpose of repossessing his wife; much less did heevermention the name of Jones. Forthough he intended to fightwith himwherever he met himhe did not imitate those prudent personswho thinka wifea mothera sisteror sometimes a whole familythesafestseconds on these occasions. The first accountthereforewhichshe had ofall this was delivered to her from his lipsafter he wasbroughthome from the tavern where his wound had been drest.

  AsMr. Fitzpatrickhoweverhad not the clearest way of telling astory atany timeand was nowperhapsa little more confused thanusualitwas some time before she discovered that the gentleman whohad givenhim this wound was the very same person from whom herheart hadreceived a woundwhichthough not of a mortal kindwasyet sodeep that it had left a considerable scar behind it. But nosooner wasshe acquainted that Mr. Jones himself was the man who hadbeencommitted to the Gatehouse for this supposed murderthan shetook thefirst opportunity of committing Mr. Fitzpatrick to the careof hisnurseand hastened away to visit the conqueror.

  Shenow entered the room with an air of gaietywhich received animmediatecheck from the melancholy aspect of poor Joneswhostartedand blessed himself when he saw her. Upon which she said"NayI do not wonder at your surprize; I believe you did not expectto see me;for few gentlemen are troubled here with visits from anyladyunless a wife. You see the power you have over meMr. Jones.IndeedIlittle thoughtwhen we parted at Uptonthat our nextmeetingwould have been in such a place."

"Indeedmadam"says Jones"Imust look upon this visit as kind; few will follow the miserableespeciallyto such dismal habitations."

"I protestMr. Jones"saysshe"Ican hardly persuade myself you are the same agreeable fellow Isaw atUpton. Whyyour face is more miserable than any dungeon in theuniverse.What can be the matter with you?"

"I thoughtmadam"saidJones"asyou knew of my being hereyou knew the unhappy reason."

"Pugh!"says she"you have pinked a man in a duelthat's all."Jonesexprestsome indignation at this levityand spoke with the utmostcontritionfor what had happened. To which she answered"Wellthensirif you take it so much to heartI will relieve you; thegentlemanis not deadandI am pretty confidentis in no dangerof dying.The surgeonindeed who first dressed him was a youngfellowand seemed desirous of representing his case to be as bad aspossiblethat he might have the more honour from curing him: butthe king'ssurgeon hath seen him sinceand saysunless from a feverof whichthere are at present no symptomshe apprehends not the leastdanger oflife." Jones shewed great satisfaction at this report;upon whichshe affirmed the truth of itadding"By the mostextraordinaryaccident in the world I lodge at the same house; andhave seenthe gentlemanand I promise you he doth you justiceandsayswhatever be the consequencethat he was entirely the aggressorand thatyou was not in the least to blame."

 Jones expressed the utmost satisfaction at the account which Mrs.Watersbrought him. He then informed her of many things which she wellknewbeforeas who Mr. Fitzpatrick wasthe occasion of hisresentment&c. He likewise told her several facts of which she wasignorantas the adventure of the muffand other particularsconcealingonly the name of Sophia. He then lamented the follies andvices ofwhich he had been guilty; every one of whichhe saidhadbeenattended with such ill consequencesthat he should beunpardonableif he did not take warningand quit those viciouscoursesfor the future. He lastly concluded with assuring her of hisresolutionto sin no morelest a worse thing should happen to him.

 Mrs. Waters with great pleasantry ridiculed all thisas the effectsof lowspirits and confinement. She repeated some witticisms about thedevil whenhe was sickand told him"She doubted not but shortlyto see himat libertyand as lively a fellow as ever; and then" saysshe"Idon't question but your conscience will be safely delivered ofall thesequalms that it is now so sick in breeding."

 Many more things of this kind she utteredsome of which it would doher nogreat honourin the opinion of some readersto remember;nor are wequite certain but that the answers made by Jones would betreatedwith ridicule by others. We shall therefore suppress therest ofthis conversationand only observe that it ended at last withperfectinnocenceand much more to the satisfaction of Jones thanof thelady; for the former was greatly transported with the newsshe hadbrought him; but the latter was not altogether so pleased withthepenitential behaviour of a man whom she hadat her firstinterviewconceived. a very different opinion of from what she nowentertainedof him.

 Thus the melancholy occasioned by the report of Mr. Nightingalewas prettywell effaced; but the dejection into which Mrs. Millerhad thrownhim still continued. The account she gave so well talliedwith thewords of Sophia herself in her letterthat he made not theleastdoubt but that she had disclosed his letter to her auntand hadtaken afixed resolution to abandon him. The torments this thoughtgave himwere to be equalled only by a piece of news which fortune hadyet instore for himand which we shall communicate in the secondchapter ofthe ensuing book.

BOOK XVIIICONTAININGABOUT SIX DAYS

Chapter1
A farewellto the reader

  Weare nowreaderarrived at the last stage of our long journey.As wehavethereforetravelled together through so many pages let usbehave toone another like fellow-travellers in a stage coachwhohavepassed several days in the company of each other; and whonotwithstandingany bickerings or little animosities which may haveoccurredon the roadgenerally make all up at lastand mountforthe lasttimeinto their vehicle with chearfulness and good humour;sinceafter this one stageit may possibly happen to usas itcommonlyhappens to themnever to meet more.

  AsI have here taken up this similegive me leave to carry it alittlefarther. I intendthenin this last bookto imitate the goodcompany Ihave mentioned in their last journey. Nowit is wellknown thatall jokes and raillery are at this time laid aside;whatevercharacters any of the passengers have for the jest-sakepersonatedon the road are now thrown offand the conversation isusuallyplain and serious.

  Inthe same mannerif I have now and thenin the course of thisworkindulged any pleasantry for thy entertainmentI shall herelay itdown. The variety of matterindeedwhich I shall be obligedto craminto this bookwill afford no room for any of those ludicrousobservationswhich I have elsewhere madeand which may sometimesperhapshave prevented thee from taking a nap when it was beginningto stealupon thee. In this last book thou wilt find nothing (or atmost verylittle) of that nature. All will be plain narrative only;andindeed. when thou hast perused the many great events which thisbook willproducethou wilt think the number of pages contained in itscarcesufficient to tell the story.

  Andnowmy friendI take this opportunity (as I shall have noother) ofheartily wishing thee well. If I have been an entertainingcompanionto theeI promise thee it is what I have desired. If inanything Ihave offendedit was really without any intention. Somethingsperhapshere saidmay have hit thee or thy friends; but I domostsolemnly declare they were not pointed at thee or them. Iquestionnot but thou hast been toldamong other stories of methat thouwast to travel with a very scurrilous fellow; but whoevertold theeso did me an injury. No man detests and despisesscurrilitymore than myself; nor hath any man more reason; for nonehath everbeen treated with more; and what is a very severe fateIhave hadsome of the abusive writings of those very men fatheredupon mewhoin other of their workshave abused me themselveswith theutmost virulence.

  Allthese workshoweverI am well convincedwill be dead longbeforethis page shall offer itself to thy perusal; for howevershort theperiod may be of my own performancesthey will mostprobablyoutlive their own infirm authorand the weakly productionsof hisabusive contemporaries.

Chapter2
Containinga very tragical incident

 While Jones was employed in those unpleasant meditationswith whichwe lefthim tormenting himselfPartridge came stumbling into the roomwith hisface paler than asheshis eyes fixed in his headhis hairstandingon endand every limb trembling. In shorthe looked as hewould havedone had he seen a spectreor had heindeedbeen aspectrehimself.

 Joneswho was little subject to fearcould not avoid beingsomewhatshocked at this sudden appearance. He didindeedhimselfchangecolourand his voice a little faultered while he asked himWhat wasthe matter?

  "Ihopesir" said Partridge"you will not be angry with me.Indeed Idid not listenbut I was obliged to stay in the outwardroom. I amsure I wish I had been a hundred miles offrather thanhave heardwhat I have heard."

"Whywhat is the matter?" saidJones."The mattersir? O good Heaven!" answered Partridge"wasthatwoman whois just gone out the woman who was with you at Upton?"

"ShewasPartridge" cried Jones. "And did you reallysirgoto bedwith thatwoman?" said hetrembling.

"I am afraid what past betweenus is nosecret" said Jones.

"Naybut praysirfor Heaven'ssakesiranswer me" cries Partridge. "You know I did" criesJones."Whythenthe Lord have mercy upon your souland forgive you"criesPartridge;"but as sure as I stand here aliveyou have been a-bedwith yourown mother."

 Upon these words Jones became in a moment a greater picture ofhorrorthan Partridge himself. He wasindeedfor some time struckdumb withamazementand both stood staring wildly at each other. Atlast hiswords found wayand in an interrupted voice he said"How!how!what's this you tell me?"

"Naysir" cries Partridge"I havenot breathenough left to tell you nowbut what I have said is mostcertainlytrue.- That woman who now went out is your own mother. Howunluckywas it for yousirthat I did not happen to see her atthat timeto have prevented it! Sure the devil himself must havecontrivedto bring about this wickedness."

 "Sure" cried Jones"Fortune will never have donewith me tillshe hathdriven me to distraction. But why do I blame Fortune? I ammyself thecause of all my misery. All the dreadful mischiefs whichhavebefallen me are the consequences only of my own folly and vice.What thouhast told mePartridgehath almost deprived me of mysenses!And was Mrs. Watersthen- but why do I ask? for thou mustcertainlyknow her-- If thou hast any affection for menayif thouhast anypitylet me beseech thee to fetch this miserable womanback againto me. O good Heavens! incest-- with a mother! To what am Ireserved!"He then fell into the most violent and frantic agonies ofgrief anddespairin which Partridge declared he would not leave him;but atlasthaving vented the first torrent of passionhe came alittle tohimself; and thenhaving acquainted Partridge that he wouldfind thiswretched woman in the same house where the wounded gentlemanwaslodgedhe despatched him in quest of her.

  Ifthe reader will please to refresh his memoryby turning to thescene atUptonin the ninth bookhe will be apt to admire the manystrangeaccidents which unfortunately prevented any interviewbetweenPartridge and Mrs. Waterswhen she spent a whole day therewith Mr.Jones. Instances of this kind we may frequently observe inlifewhere the greatest events are produced by a nice train of littlecircumstances;and more than one example of this may be discoveredby theaccurate eyein this our history.

 After a fruitless search of two or three hoursPartridge returnedback tohis masterwithout having seen Mrs. Waters. Joneswho was ina state ofdesperation at his delaywas almost raving mad when hebroughthim his account. He was not longhoweverin this conditionbefore hereceived the following letter:

 SIR

 Since I left you I have seen a gentlemanfrom whom I have learnedsomethingconcerning you which greatly surprizes and affects me; butas I havenot at present leisure to communicate a matter of suchhighimportanceyou must suspend your curiosity till our nextmeetingwhich shall be the first moment I am able to see you. OMr. Joneslittle did I thinkwhen I past that happy day at Uptonthereflection upon which is like to embitter all my future lifewho it wasto whom I owed such perfect happiness. Believe me to beeversincerely your unfortunate

                                                      J. WATERS

 P.S.- I would have you comfort yourself as much as possibleforMr.Fitzpatrick is in no manner of danger; so that whatever othergrievouscrimes you have to repent ofthe guilt of blood is not amongthenumber.

 Jones having read the letterlet it drop (for he was unable to holditandindeed had scarce the use of any one of his faculties).Partridgetook it upand having received consent by silencereaditlikewise; nor had it upon him a less sensible effect. The penciland notthe penshould describe the horrors which appeared in boththeircountenances. While they both remained speechlessthe turnkeyenteredthe roomandwithout taking any notice of whatsufficientlydiscovered itself in the faces of them bothacquaintedJones thata man without desired to speak with him. This person waspresentlyintroducedand was other than Black George.

  Assights of horror were not so usual to George as they were totheturnkeyhe instantly saw the great disorder which appeared in theface ofJones. This he imputed to the accident that had happenedwhich wasreported in the very worst light in Mr. Western's family; heconcludedthereforethat the gentleman was deadand that Mr.Jones wasin a fair way of coming to a shameful end. A thought whichgave himmuch uneasiness; for George was of a compassionatedispositionand notwithstanding a small breach of friendship which hehad beenover-tempted to commitwasin the mainnot insensible oftheobligations he had formerly received from Mr. Jones.

  Thepoor fellowthereforescarce refrained from a tear at thepresentsight. He told Jones he was heartily sorry for hismisfortunesand begged him to consider if he could be of any mannerofservice. "Perhapssir" said he"you may want alittle matterof moneyupon this occasion; if you dosirwhat little I have isheartilyat your service."

 Jones shook him very heartily by the handand gave him manythanks forthe kind offer he had made; but answered"He had not theleast wantof that kind." Upon which George began to press hisservicesmore eagerly than before. Jones again thanked himwithassurancesthat he wanted nothing which was in the power of any livingman togive. "Comecomemy good master" answered George"donottake thematter so much to heart. Things may end better than youimagine;to be sure you an't the first gentleman who hath killed amanandyet come off."

"You are wide of the matterGeorge"saidPartridge"the gentleman is not deadnor like to die. Don'tdisturb mymasterat presentfor he is troubled about a matter inwhich itis not in your power to do him any good." You don't know whatI may beable to doMr. Partridge" answered George; "if hisconcern isabout my young ladyI have some news to tell my master."

"Whatdo you sayMr. George?" cried Jones. "Hath anything latelyhappenedin which my Sophia is concerned? Sophia! how dares such awretch asI mention her so profanely!"

"I hope she will be yoursyet"answeredGeorge. "Why yessirI have something to tell you abouther. MadamWestern hath just brought Madam Sophia homeand there hathbeen aterrible to do. I could not possibly learn the very right ofit; but mymaster he hath been in a vast big passionand so was MadamWesternand I heard her sayas she went out of doors into her chairthat shewould never set foot in master's house again. I don't knowwhat's thematternot Ibut everything was very quiet when I cameout; butRobinwho waited at suppersaid he had never seen thesquire fora long while in such good humour with young madam; thathe kissedher several timesand swore she should be her own mistressand henever would think of confining her any more. I thought thisnews wouldplease youand so I slipped outthough it was so latetoinform youof it." Mr. Jones assured George that it did greatly pleasehim; forthough he should never more presume to lift his eyes towardthatincomparable creaturenothing could so much relieve his miseryas thesatisfaction he should always have in hearing of her welfare.

  Therest of the conversation which passed at the visit is notimportantenough to be here related. The reader willthereforeforgive usthis abrupt breaking offand be pleased to hear how thisgreatgood-will of the squire towards his daughter was brought about.

 Mrs. Westernon her first arrival at her brother's lodgingbeganto setforth the great honours and advantages which would accrue tothe familyby the match with Lord Fellamarwhich her niece hadabsolutelyrefused; in which refusalwhen the squire took the part ofhisdaughtershe fell immediately into the most violent passionand soirritated and provoked the squirethat neither his patiencenor hisprudence could bear it any longer; upon which there ensuedbetweenthem both so warm a bout at altercationthat perhaps theregions ofBillingsgate never equalled it. In the heat of thisscoldingMrs. Western departedand had consequently no leisure toacquainther brother with the letter which Sophia receivedwhichmight havepossibly produced ill effects; butto say truthI believeit neveronce occurred to her memory at this time.

 When Mrs. Western was goneSophiawho had been hitherto silentaswellindeed from necessity as inclinationbegan to return thecomplimentwhich her father had made herin taking her part againsther auntby taking his likewise against the lady. This was thefirst timeof her so doingand it was in the highest degreeacceptableto the squire. Againhe remembered that Mr. Allworthyhadinsisted on an entire relinquishment of all violent means; andindeedashe made no doubt but that Jones would be hangedhe did notin theleast question succeeding with his daughter by fair means; henowthereforeonce more gave a loose to his natural fondness forherwhichhad such an effect on the dutifulgratefultenderandaffectionateheart of Sophiathat had her honourgiven to Jonesandsomethingelseperhapsin which he was concernedbeen removedImuch doubtwhether she would not have sacrificed herself to a manshe didnot liketo have obliged her father. She promised him shewould makeit the whole business of her life to oblige himandwouldnever marry any man against his consent; which brought the oldman sonear to his highest happinessthat he was resolved to take theotherstepand went to bed completely drunk.

Chapter3
Allworthyvisits old Nightingale; with a strange discovery that hemade onthat occasion

  Themorning after these things had happenedMr. Allworthy wentaccordingto his promiseto visit old Nightingalewith whom hisauthoritywas so greatthatafter having sat with him three hourshe at lastprevailed with him to consent to see his son.

  Herean accident happened of a very extraordinary kind; one indeedof thosestrange chances whence very good and grave men have concludedthatProvidence often interposes in the discovery of the most secretvillanyin order to caution men from quitting the paths of honestyhoweverwarily they tread in those of vice.

  Mr.Allworthyat his entrance into Mr. Nightingale'ssaw BlackGeorge; hetook no notice of himnor did Black George imagine hehadperceived him.

 Howeverwhen their conversation on the principal point was overAllworthyasked NightingaleWhether he knew one George Seagrimandupon whatbusiness he came to his house? "Yes" answeredNightingale"I know him very welland a most extraordinary fellow heiswhoin these dayshath been able to hoard up L500 from renting avery smallestate of L30 a year."

"And this is the story which he hathtold you?"cries Allworthy. "Nayit is trueI promise you" saidNightingale"for I have the money now in my own handsin fivebank-billswhich I am to lay out either in a mortgageor in somepurchasein the north of England." The bank-bills were no soonerproducedat Allworthy's desirethan he blessed himself at thestrangenessof the discovery. He presently told Nightingale that thesebank-billswere formerly hisand then acquainted him with the wholeaffair. Asthere are no men who complain more of the frauds ofbusinessthan highwaymengamestersand other thieves of that kindso thereare none who so bitterly exclaim against the frauds ofgamesters&c.as usurersbrokersand other thieves of this kind;whether itbe that the one way of cheating is a discountenance orreflectionupon the otheror that moneywhich is the common mistressof allcheatsmakes them regard each other in the light of rivals;butNightingale no sooner heard the story than he exclaimed againstthe fellowin terms much severer than the justice and honesty ofAllworthyhad bestowed on him.

 Allworthy desired Nightingale to retain both the money and thesecrettill he should hear farther from him; andif he should inthemeantime see the fellowthat he would not take the least noticeto him ofthe discovery which he had made. He then returned to hislodgingswhere he found Mrs. Miller in a very dejected conditionon accountof the information she had received from her son-in-law.Mr.Allworthywith great chearfulnesstold her that he had much goodnews tocommunicate; andwith little further prefaceacquaintedher thathe had brought Mr. Nightingale to consent to see his sonanddid not inthe least doubt to effect a perfect reconciliationbetweenthem; though he found the father more sowered by anotheraccidentof the same kind which had happened in his family. He thenmentionedthe running away of the uncle's daughterwhich he hadbeen toldby the old gentlemanand which Mrs. Miller and herson-in-lawdid not yet know.

  Thereader may suppose Mrs. Miller received this account withgreatthankfulnessand no less pleasure; but so uncommon was herfriendshipto Jonesthat I am not certain whether the uneasinessshesuffered for his sake did not overbalance her satisfaction athearing apiece of news tending so much to the happiness of her ownfamily;nor whether even this very newsas it reminded her of theobligationsshe had to Jonesdid not hurt as well as please her; whenhergrateful heart said to her"While my own family is happyhowmiserableis the poor creature to whose generosity we owe thebeginningof all this happiness!"

 Allworthyhaving left her a little while to chew the cud (if Imay usethat expression) on these first tidingstold her he had stillsomethingmore to impartwhich he believed would give her pleasure."Ithink" said he"I have discovered a pretty considerabletreasurebelonging to the young gentlemanyour friend; but perhapsindeedhis present situation may be such that it will be of noservice tohim." The latter part of the speech gave Mrs. Miller tounderstandwho was meantand she answered with a sigh"I hope notsir."

"I hope so too" cries Allworthy"with all my heart;but mynephewtold me this morning he had heard a very bad account of theaffair."-

"Good Heaven! sir" said she

"WellI must not speakandyet it iscertainly very hard to be obliged to hold one's tongue whenonehears."-

"Madam" said Allworthy"you may saywhatever youpleaseyou know me too well to think I have a prejudice against anyone; andas for that young manI assure you I should be heartilypleased tofind he could acquit himself of everythingandparticularlyof this sad affair. You can testify the affection I haveformerlyborne him. The worldI knowcensured me for loving him somuch. Idid not withdraw that affection from him without thinking Ihad thejustest cause. Believe meMrs. MillerI should be glad tofind Ihave been mistaken." Mrs. Miller was going eagerly to replywhen aservant acquainted her that a gentleman without desired tospeak withher immediately. Allworthy then enquired for his nephewand wastold that he had been for some time in his room with thegentlemanwho used to come to himand whom Mr. Allworthy guessingrightly tobe Mr. Dowlinghe desired presently to speak with him.

 When Dowling attendedAllworthy put the case of the banknotes tohimwithout mentioning any nameand asked in what manner such apersonmight be punished. To which Dowling answered"He thought hemight beindicted on the Black Act; but saidas it was a matter ofsomenicetyit would be proper to go to counsel. He said he was toattendcounsel presently upon an affair of Mr. Western'sand if Mr.Allworthypleased he would lay the case before them." This wasagreed to;and then Mrs. Milleropening the doorcried"I askpardonIdid not know you had company; but Allworthy desired her tocome insaying he had finished his business. Upon which Mr. Dowlingwithdrewand Mrs. Miller introduced Mr. Nightingale the youngertoreturnthanks for the great kindness done him by Allworthy: but shehad scarcepatience to let the young gentleman finish his speechbefore sheinterrupted himsaying"O sir! Mr. Nightingale bringsgreat newsabout poor Mr. Jones: he hath been to see the woundedgentlemanwho is out of all danger of deathandwhat is moredeclareshe fell upon poor Mr. Jones himselfand beat him. I am suresiryouwould not have Mr. Jones be a coward. If I was a manmyselfIam sureif any man was to strike meI should draw mysword. Dopraymy deartell Mr. Allworthytell him all yourself."Nightingalethen confirmed what Mrs. Miller had said; and concludedwith manyhandsome things of Joneswho washe saidone of thebest-naturedfellows in the worldand not in the least inclined to bequarrelsome.Here Nightingale was going to ceasewhen Mrs. Milleragainbegged him to relate all the many dutiful expressions he hadheard himmake use of towards Mr. Allworthy. "To say the utmost goodof Mr.Allworthy" cries Nightingale"is doing no more thanstrictjusticeand can have no merit in it: but indeedI must sayno mancan bemore sensible of the obligations he hath to so good a manthan ispoor Jones. IndeedsirI am convinced the weight of yourdispleasureis the heaviest burthen he lies under. He hath oftenlamentedit to meand hath as often protested in the most solemnmanner hehath never been intentionally guilty of any offencetowardsyou; nayhe hath sworn he would rather die a thousanddeathsthan he would have his conscience upbraid him with onedisrespectfulungratefulor undutiful thought towards you. But I askpardonsirI am afraid I presume to intermeddle too far in so tendera point."

"You have spoke no more than what a Christian ought"cries Mrs.Miller. "IndeedMr. Nightingale" answered Allworthy"Iapplaudyour generous friendshipand I wish he may merit it of you. Iconfess Iam glad to hear the report you bring from this unfortunategentleman;andif that matter should turn out to be as yourepresentit (andindeedI doubt nothing of what you say)I mayperhapsin timebe brought to think better than lately I have ofthis youngman; for this good gentlewoman herenayall who knowmecanwitness that I loved him as dearly as if he had been my ownson.IndeedI have considered him as a child sent by fortune to mycare. Istill remember the innocentthe helpless situation in which Ifound him.I feel the tender pressure of his little hands at thismoment. Hewas my darlingindeed he was." At which words he ceasedand thetears stood in his eyes.

  Asthe answer which Mrs. Miller made may lead us into fresh matterswe willhere stop to account for the visible alteration in Mr.Allworthy'smindand the abatement of his anger to Jones. Revolutionsof thiskindit is truefrequently occur in histories and dramaticwritersfor no other reason than because the history or play draws toaconclusionand are justified by authority of authors; yetthoughwe insistupon as much authority as any author whateverwe shalluse thispower very sparinglyand never but when we are driven toit bynecessitywhich we do not at present foresee will happen inthis work.

 This alteration then in the mind of Mr. Allworthy was occasionedby aletter he had just received from Mr. Squareand which we shallgive thereader in the beginning of the next chapter.

Chapter4
Containingtwo letters in very different stiles

  MYWORTHY FRIEND- I informed you in my last that I was forbiddenthe use ofthe watersas they were found by experience rather toincreasethan lessen the symptoms of my distemper. I must now acquaintyou with apiece of newswhichI believewill afflict my friendsmore thanit hath afflicted me. Dr. Harrington and Dr. Brewster haveinformedme that there is no hopes of my recovery.

  Ihave somewhere readthat the great use of philosophy is tolearn todie. I will not therefore so far disgrace mineas to showanysurprize at receiving a lesson which I must be thought to haveso longstudied. Yetto say the truthone page of the Gospel teachesthislesson better than all the volumes of antient or modernphilosophers.The assurance it gives us of another life is a muchstrongersupport to a good mindthan all the consolations that aredrawn fromthe necessity of naturethe emptiness or satiety of ourenjoymentshereor any other topic of those declamations which aresometimescapable of arming our minds with a stubborn patience inbearingthe thoughts of deathbut never of raising them to a realcontemptof itand much less of making us think it is a real good.I wouldnot here be understood to throw the horrid censure of atheismor eventhe absolute denial of immortalityon all who are calledphilosophers.Many of that sectas well antient as modernhavefromthe lightof reasondiscovered some hopes of a future state; but inrealitythat light was so faint and glimmeringand the hopes were soincertainand precariousthat it may be justly doubted on whichside theirbelief turned. Plato himself concludes his Phaedon withdeclaringthat his best arguments amount only to raise a probability;and Cicerohimself seems rather to Profess an inclination tobelievethan any actual belief in the doctrines of immortality. As tomyselftobe very sincere with youI never was much in earnest inthis faithtill I was in earnest a Christian.

  Youwill perhaps wonder at the latter expression; but I assure youit hathnot been till very lately that I couldwith truthcallmyself so.The pride of Philosophy had intoxicated my reasonandthesublimest of all wisdom appeared to meas it did to the Greeks ofoldto befoolishness. God hathhoweverbeen so gracious to show memy errorin timeand to bring me into the way of truthbefore I sunkinto utterdarkness for ever.

  Ifind myself beginning to grow weakI shall therefore hasten tothe mainPurpose of this letter.

 When I reflect on the actions of my past lifeI know of nothingwhich sitsheavier upon my conscience than the injustice I have beenguilty ofto that poor wretchyour adopted son. I haveindeednotonlyconnived at the villany of othersbut been myself active ininjusticetowards him. Believe memy dear friendwhen I tell youonthe wordof a dying manhe hath been basely injured. As to theprincipalfactupon the misrepresentation of which you discarded himI solemnlyassure you he is innocent. When you lay upon yoursupposeddeathbedhe was the only person in the house who testifiedany realconcern; and what happened afterwards arose from the wildnessof his joyon your recovery; andI am sorry to say itfrom thebasenessof another person (but it is my desire to justify theinnocentand to accuse none). Believe memy friendthis young manhath thenoblest generosity of heartthe most perfect capacity forfriendshipthe highest integrityand indeed every virtue which canennoble aman. He hath some faultsbut among them is not to benumberedthe least want of duty or gratitude towards you. On thecontraryI am satisfiedwhen you dismissed him from your househis heartbled for you more than for himself.

 Worldly motives were the wicked and base reasons of my concealingthis fromyou so long: to reveal it now I can have no inducement butthe desireof serving the cause of truthof doing right to theinnocentand of making all the amends in my Power for a Past offence.I hopethis declarationthereforewill have the effect desiredand willrestore this deserving young man to your favour; thehearing ofwhichwhile I am yet alivewill afford the utmostconsolationto

                                         Sir

      Your most obliged

                              obedient humble servant

                                                 THOMAS SQUARE

  Thereader willafter thisscarce wonder at the revolution sovisiblyappearing in Mr. Allworthynotwithstanding he received fromThwackumby the same postanother letter of a very different kindwhich weshall here addas it may possibly be the last time weshall haveoccasion to mention the name of that gentleman.

 SIR

  Iam not at all surprized at hearing form your worthy nephew a freshinstanceof the villany of Mr. Square the atheist's young pupil. Ishall notwonder at any murders he may commit; and I heartily praythat yourown blood may not seal up his final commitment to theplace ofwailing and gnashing of teeth.

 Though you cannot want sufficient calls to repentance for the manyunwarrantableweaknesses exemplified in your behaviour to this wretchso much tothe prejudice of your own lawful familyand of yourcharacterI saythough these may sufficiently be supposed to prickand goadyour conscience at this seasonI should yet be wanting to mydutyif Ispared to give you some admonition in order to bring you toa duesense of your errors. I therefore pray you seriously to considerthejudgment which is likely to overtake this wicked villain; andlet itserve at least as a warning to youthat you may not for thefuturedespise the advice of one who is so indefatigable in hisprayersfor your welfare.

  Hadnot my hand been withheld from due correctionI had scourgedmuch ofthis diabolical spirit out of a boyof whomfrom hisinfancyIdiscovered the devil had taken such entire possession.Butreflections of this hind now come too late.

  Iam sorry you have given away the living of Westerton so hastily. Ishouldhave applied on that occasion earlierhad I thought youwould nothave acquainted me previous to the disposition.-- Yourobjectionto pluralities is being righteous over-much. If there wereany crimein the practiceso many godly men would not agree to it. Ifthe vicarof Aldergrove should die (as we hear he is in a decliningway)Ihope you will think of mesince I am certain you must beconvincedof my most sincere attachment to your highest welfare- awelfare towhich all worldly considerations are as trifling as thesmalltithes mentioned in Scripture arewhen compared to theweightymatters of the law.

          I amsir

               Your faithful humble servant

                          ROGERTHWACKUM

 This was the first time Thwackum ever wrote in this authoritativestile toAllworthyand of this he had afterwards sufficient reason torepentasin the case of those who mistake the highest degree ofgoodnessfor the lowest degree of weakness. Allworthy had indeed neverliked thisman. He knew him to be proud and ill-natured; he alsoknew thathis divinity itself was tinctured with his temperandsuch as inmany respects he himself did by no means approve; but hewas at thesame time an excellent scholarand most indefatigable inteachingthe two lads. Add to thisthe strict severity of his lifeandmannersan unimpeached honestyand a most devout attachment toreligion.So thatupon the wholethough Allworthy did not esteem norlove themanyet he could never bring himself to part with a tutor tothe boyswho wasboth by learning and industryextremely wellqualifiedfor his office; and he hopedthat as they were bred up inhis ownhouseand under his own eyehe should be able to correctwhateverwas wrong in Thwackum's instructions.

Chapter5
In whichthe history is continued

  Mr.Allworthyin his last speechhad recollected some tenderconcerningJoneswhich had brought tears into the good man's eyes.This Mrs.Miller observingsaid"Yesyessiryour goodness tothis pooryoung man is knownnotwithstanding all your care to concealit; butthere is not a single syllable of truth in what those villainssaid. Mr.Nightingale hath now discovered the whole matter. It seemsthesefellows were employed by a lordwho is a rival of poor Mr.Jonestohave pressed him on board a ship.-- I assure them I don'tknow whothey will press next. Mr. Nightingale here hath seen theofficerhimselfwho is a very pretty gentlemanand hath told himallandis very sorry for what he undertookwhich he would neverhave donehad he known Mr. Jones to have been a gentleman; but he wastold thathe was a common strolling vagabond."

 Allworthy stared at all thisand declared he was a stranger toevery wordshe said"Yessir" answered she"I believe youare.-- Itis a very different storyI believefrom what thosefellowstold the lawyer."

 "What lawyermadam? what is it you mean?" said Allworthy."Naynay"said she"this is so like you to deny your own goodness: butMr.Nightingale here saw him."

"Saw whommadam?" answeredhe. "Whyyourlawyersir" said she"that you so kindly sent to inquireinto theaffair."

"I am still in the darkupon my honour"saidAllworthy."Why then do you tell himmy dear sir" cries she."Indeedsir" said Nightingale"I did see that very lawyer whowent fromyou when I came into the roomat an alehouse in Aldersgatein companywith two of the fellows who were employed by LordFellamarto press Mr. Jonesand who were by that means present at theunhappyrencounter between him and Mr. Fitzpatrick."

"I ownsir"said Mrs.Miller"when I saw this gentleman come into the room toyouItold Mr. Nightingale that I apprehended you had sent himthither toinquire into the affair." Allworthy showed marks ofastonishmentin his countenance at this newsand was indeed for twoor threeminutes struck dumb by it. At lastaddressing himself to Mr.Nightingalehe said"I must confess myselfsirmore surprized atwhat youtell me than I have ever been before at anything in mywholelife. Are you certain this was the gentleman?"

"I am mostcertain"answered Nightingale. "At Aldersgate?" cries Allworthy."Andwas you incompany with this lawyer and the two fellows?"

"I wassir"said the other"very near half an hour."

"Wellsir"saidAllworthy"and in what manner did the lawyer behave? did you hear allthat pastbetween him and the fellows?"

"Nosir" answeredNightingale"they had been together before I came.- In my presencethe lawyersaid little; butafter I had several times examined thefellowswho persisted in a story directly contrary to what I hadheard fromMr. Jonesand which I find by Mr. Fitzpatrick was a rankfalshoodthe lawyer then desired the fellows to say nothing butwhat wasthe truthand seemed to speak so much in favour of Mr.Jonesthatwhen I saw the same person with youI concluded yourgoodnesshad prompted you to send him thither."

"And did you notsend himthither?" says Mrs. Miller.

"Indeed I did not"answeredAllworthy;"nor did I know he had gone on such errand till thismoment."

"I see it all!" said Mrs. Miller"upon my soulI seeitall! Nowonder they have been closeted so close lately. SonNightingalelet me beg you run for these fellows immediately-- findthem outif they are above-ground. I will go myself"-

"Dear madam"saidAllworthy"be patientand do me the favour to send a servantupstairsto call Mr. Dowling hitherif he be in the houseorifnotMr.Blifil." Mrs. Miller went out muttering something to herselfandpresently returned with an answer"That Mr. Dowling was gone;butthat thet'other" as she called him"was coming."

 Allworthy was of a cooler disposition than the good womanwhosespiritswere all up in arms in the cause of her friend. He was nothoweverwithout some suspicions which were near akin to hers. WhenBlifilcame into the roomhe asked him with a very seriouscountenanceand with a less friendly look than he had ever beforegiven him"Whether he knew anything of Mr. Dowling's having seenany of thepersons who were present at the duel between Jones andanothergentleman?"

 There is nothing so dangerous as a question which comes bysurprizeon a man whose business it is to conceal truthor todefendfalshood. For which reason those worthy personageswhose nobleoffice itis to save the lives of their fellow-creatures at the OldBaileytake the utmost careby frequent previous examinationtodivineevery question which may be asked their clients on the day oftryalthat they may be supplyed with proper and ready answerswhich themost fertile invention cannot supply in an instant. Besidesthe suddenand violent impulse on the bloodoccasioned by thesesurprizescauses frequently such an alteration in the countenancethat theman is obliged to give evidence against himself. And suchindeedwere the alterations which the countenance of Blifilunderwentfrom this sudden questionthat we can scarce blame theeagernessof Mrs. Millerwho immediately cryed out"Guiltyuponmy honour!guiltyupon my soul!"

  Mr.Allworthy sharply rebuked her for this impetuosity; and thenturning toBlifilwho seemed sinking into the earthhe said"Why doyouhesitatesirat giving me an answer? You certainly must haveemployedhim; for he would notof his own accordI believehaveundertakensuch an errandand especially without acquainting me."

 Blifil then answered"I ownsirI have been guilty of anoffenceyet may Ihope your pardon?"-

"My pardon" said Allworthyveryangrily.-

"Naysir" answered Blifil"I knew you would beoffended;yet surelymy dear uncle will forgive the effects of the mostamiable ofhuman weaknesses. Compassion for those who do not deserveitI ownis a crime; and yet it is a crime from which you yourselfare notentirely free. I know I have been guilty of it in more thanoneinstance to this very person; and I will own I did send Mr.Dowlingnot on a vain and fruitless inquirybut to discover thewitnessesand to endeavour to soften their evidence. Thissiristhe truth;whichthough I intended to conceal from youI will notdeny."

  "Iconfess" said Nightingale"this is the light in which itappearedto me from the gentleman's behaviour."

 "Nowmadam" said Allworthy"I believe you will oncein yourlife ownyou have entertained a wrong suspicionand are not soangry withmy nephew as you was."

 Mrs. Miller was silent; forthough she could not so hastily bepleasedwith Blifilwhom she looked upon to have been the ruin ofJonesyetin this particular instance he had imposed upon her as wellas uponthe rest; so entirely had the devil stood his friend. AndindeedIlook upon the vulgar observation"That the devil oftendesertshis friendsand leaves them in the lurch" to be a greatabuse onthat gentleman's character. Perhaps he may sometimes desertthose whoare only his cup acquaintance; or whoat mostare but halfhis; buthe generally stands by those who are thoroughly his servantsand helpsthem off in all extremitiestill their bargain expires.

  Asa conquered rebellion strengthens a governmentor as health ismoreperfectly established by recovery from some diseases; so angerwhenremovedoften gives new life to affection. This was the caseof Mr.Allworthy; for Blifil having wiped off the greater suspicionthelesserwhich had been raised by Square's lettersunk ofcourseand was forgotten; and Thwackumwith whom he was greatlyoffendedbore alone all the reflections which Square had cast ontheenemies of Jones.

  Asfor that young manthe resentment of Mr. Allworthy began moreand moreto abate towards him. He told Blifil"He did not onlyforgivethe extraordinary efforts of his good-naturebut would givehim thepleasure of following his example." Thenturning to Mrs.Millerwith a smile which would have become an angelhe cryed"Whatsay youmadam? shall we take a hackney-coachand all of ustogetherpay a visit to your friend? I promise you it is not the firstvisit Ihave made in a prison."

 Every readerI believewill be able to answer for the worthywoman; butthey must have a great deal of good-natureand be wellacquaintedwith friendshipwho can feel what she felt on thisoccasion.FewI hopeare capable of feeling what now passed in themind ofBlifil; but those who arewill acknowledgethat it wasimpossiblefor him to raise any objection to this visit. Fortunehoweveror the gentleman lately mentioned abovestood his friendandprevented his undergoing so great a shock; for at the very instantwhen thecoach was sent forPartridge arrivedandhaving calledMrs.Miller from the companyacquainted her with the dreadfulaccidentlately come to light; and hearing Mr. Allworthy'sintentionbegged her to find some means of stopping him: "For"says he"the matter must at all hazards be kept a secret from him;and if heshould now gohe will find Mr. Jones and his motherwhoarrivedjust as I left himlamenting over one another the horridcrime theyhave ignorantly committed."

  Thepoor womanwho was almost deprived of her senses at hisdreadfulnewswas never less capable of invention than at present.Howeveras women are much readier at this than menshe bethoughtherself ofan excuseandreturning to Allworthysaid"I am suresiryouwill be surprized at hearing any objection from me to thekindproposal you just now made; and yet I am afraid of theconsequenceof itif carried immediately into execution. You mustimaginesirthat all the calamities which have lately befallenthis pooryoung fellow must have thrown him into the lowestdejectionof spirits; and nowsirshould we all of a sudden flinghim intosuch a violent fit of joyas I know your presence willoccasionit mayI am afraidproduce some fatal mischiefespeciallyas hisservantwho is withouttells me he is very far from beingwell."

  "Ishis servant without?" cries Allworthy; "pray call himhither.I will askhim some questions concerning his master."

 Partridge was at first afraid to appear before Mr. Allworthy; butwas atlength persuadedafter Mrs. Millerwho had often heard hiswholestory from his own mouthhad promised to introduce him.

 Allworthy recollected Partridge the moment he came into the roomthoughmany years had passed since he had seen him. Mrs. Millerthereforemight have spared here a formal orationin whichindeedshe was something prolix; for the readerI believemayhaveobserved already that the good womanamong other thingshad atonguealways ready for the service of her friends.

 "And are you" said Allworthy to Partridge"theservant of Mr.Jones?"

"I can't saysir" answered he"that I am regularlyaservantbut I live with himan't please your honourat present. Nonsum qualiseram; as your honour very well knows."

  Mr.Allworthy then asked him many questions concerning Jonesasto hishealthand other matters; to all which Partridge answeredwithouthaving the least regard to what wasbut considered onlywhat hewould have things appear; for a strict adherence to truthwas notamong the articles of this honest fellow's moralityor hisreligion.

 During this dialogue Mr. Nightingale took his leaveand presentlyafter Mrs.Miller left the roomwhen Allworthy likewise dispatchedBlifil;for he imagined that Partridgewhen alone with himwouldbe moreexplicit than before company. They were no sooner left inprivatetogether than Allworthy beganas in the following chapter.

Chapter6
In whichthe history is farther continued

 "Surefriend" said the good man"you are thestrangest of allhumanbeings. Not only to have suffered as you have formerlyforobstinatelypersisting in a falsehoodbut to persist in it thus tothe lastand to pass thus upon the world for a servant of your ownson! Whatinterest can you have in all this? What can be your motive?"

  "Iseesir" said Partridgefalling down upon his knees"thatyourhonour is prepossessed against meand resolved not to believeanything Isayandthereforewhat signifies my protestations? butyet thereis One above who knows that I am not the father of thisyoungman."

 "How!" said Allworthy"will you yet deny what you wasformerlyconvictedof upon such unanswerablesuch manifest evidence? Naywhataconfirmation is your being now found with this very manof allwhichtwenty years ago appeared against you! I thought you had leftthecountry! nayI thought you had been long since dead.- In whatmanner didyou know anything of this young man? Where did you meetwith himunless you had kept some correspondence together? Do notdeny this;for I promise you it will greatly raise your son in myopinionto find that he hath such a sense of filial duty as privatelyto supporthis father for so many years."

  "Ifyour honour will have patience to hear me" said Partridge"Iwill tellyou all.

"Being bid go onhe proceeded thus: "When yourhonourconceived that displeasure against meit ended in my ruin soonafter; forI lost my little school; and the ministerthinkingIsupposeit would be agreeable to your honourturned me out fromthe officeof clerk; so that I had nothing to trust to but thebarber'sshopwhichin a country place like thatis a poorlivelihood;and when my wife died (for till that time I received apension ofL12 a year from an unknown handwhich indeed I believe wasyourhonour's ownfor nobody that ever I heard of doth these thingsbesides)-butas I was sayingwhen she diedthis pension forsookme; sothat nowas I owed two or three small debtswhich began to betroublesometo meparticularly one which an attorney broughtup bylaw-chargesfrom 15s. to near L30and as I found all my usual meansof livinghad forsook meI packed up my little all as well as Icouldandwent off.

 "The first place I came to was Salisburywhere I got into theservice ofa gentleman belonging to the lawand one of the bestgentlementhat ever I knewfor he was not only good to mebut I knowa thousandgood and charitable acts which he did while I staid withhim; and Ihave known him often refuse business because it was paultryandoppressive."

"You need not be so particular" saidAllworthy; "Iknow thisgentlemanand a very worthy man he isand an honour to hisprofession."-

"Wellsir" continued Partridge"from hence IremovedtoLymingtonwhere I was above three years in the service ofanotherlawyerwho was likewise a very good sort of a manand tobe sureone of the merriest gentlemen in England. Wellsirat theend of thethree years I set up a little schooland was likely todo wellagainhad it not been for a most unlucky accident. Here Ikept apig; and one dayas ill fortune would have itthis pigbroke outand did a trespassI think they call itin a gardenbelongingto one of my neighbourswho was a proudrevengeful manandemployed a lawyerone- one- I can't think of his name; but hesent for awrit against meand had me to size. When I came thereLord havemercy upon me- to hear what the counsellors said! There wasone thattold my lord a parcel of the confoundedest lies about me;he saidthat I used to drive my hogs into other folk's gardensanda greatdeal more; and at last he saidhe hoped I had at last broughtmy hogs toa fair market. To be sureone would have thought thatinstead ofbeing owner only of one poor little pigI had been thegreatesthog-merchant in England. Well-"

"Pray" saidAllworthy"donot be soparticularI have heard nothing of your son yet."

"O itwasa greatmany years" answered Partridge"before I saw my sonasyou arepleased to call him.- I went over to Ireland after thisandtaughtschool at Cork (for that one suit ruined me againand I laysevenyears in Winchester jail)."-

"Well" said Allworthy"pass thatover tillyour return to England."

"Thensir" said he"itwasabout halfa year ago that I landed at Bristolwhere I staid sometimeandnot finding it do thereand hearing of a place between thatandGloucester where the barber was just deadI went thitherandthere Ihad been about two months when Mr. Jones came thither." Hethen gaveAllworthy a very particular account of their first meetingand ofeverythingas well as he could rememberwhich had happenedfrom thatday to this; frequently interlarding his story withpanegyricson Jonesand not forgetting to insinuate the great loveandrespect which he had for Allworthy. He concluded with saying"NowsirI have told your honour the whole truth." And then repeateda mostsolemn protestation"That he was no more the father of Jonesthan thePope of Rome;" and imprecated the most bitter curses on hisheadifhe did not speak truth.

 "What am I to think of this matter?" cries Allworthy. "Forwhatpurposeshould you so strongly deny a fact which I think it would beratheryour interest to own?"

"Naysir" answered Partridge(for hecould holdno longer)"if your honour will not believe meyou arelike soonto have satisfaction enough. I wish you had mistaken themother ofthis young manas well as you have his father."- And nowbeingasked what he meantwith all the symptoms of horrorboth inhis voiceand countenancehe told Allworthy the whole storywhich hehad alittle before expressed such desire to Mrs. Miller to concealfrom him.

 Allworthy was almost as much shocked at this discovery asPartridgehimself had been while he related it. "Good heavens!" sayshe"inwhat miserable distresses do vice and imprudence involvemen! Howmuch beyond our designs are the effects of wickednesssometimescarried!" He had scarce uttered these wordswhen Mrs.Waterscame hastily and abruptly into the room. Partridge no soonersaw herthan he cried"Heresirhere is the very woman herself.This isthe unfortunate mother of Mr. Jones. I am sure she will acquitme beforeyour honour. Praymadam--"

 Mrs. Waterswithout paying any regard to what Partridge saidandalmostwithout taking any notice of himadvanced to Mr. Allworthy. "Ibelievesirit is so long since I had the honour of seeing youthatyou do notrecollect me."

"Indeed" answered Allworthyyou aresovery muchalteredon many accountsthat had not this man alreadyacquaintedme who you areI should not have immediately called you tomyremembrance. Have youmadamany particular business whichbrings youto me?" Allworthy spoke this with great reserve; for thereader mayeasily believe he was not well pleased with the conductof thislady; neither with what he had formerly heardnor with whatPartridgehad now delivered.

 Mrs. Waters answered

"IndeedsirI have very particularbusinesswith you;and it is such as I can impart only to yourself. I mustdesirethereforethe favour of a word with you alone: for I assureyou what Ihave to tell you is of the utmost importance."

 Partridge was then ordered to withdrawbut before he wenthebegged thelady to satisfy Mr. Allworthy that he was perfectlyinnocent.To which she answered"You need be under no apprehensionsir; Ishall satisfy Mr. Allworthy very perfectly of that matter."

 Then Partridge withdrewand that past between Mr. Allworthy andMrs.Waters which is written in the next chapter.

Chapter7
Continuationof the history

 Mrs. Waters remaining a few moments silentMr. Allworthy couldnotrefrain from saying"I am sorrymadamto perceive by what Ihave sinceheardthat you have made so very ill a use--"

"Mr.Allworthy"says sheinterrupting him"I know I have faultsbutingratitudeto you is not one of them. I never can nor shall forgetyourgoodnesswhich I own I have very little deserved; but be pleasedto waveall upbraiding me at presentas I have so important an affairtocommunicate to you concerning this young manto whom you havegiven mymaiden name of Jones."

 "Have I then" said Allworthy"ignorantly punished aninnocent manin theperson of him who hath just left us? Was he not the father ofthechild?"

"Indeed he was not" said Mrs. Waters. "Youmay be pleasedtoremembersirI formerly told youyou should one day know; andIacknowledge myself to have been guilty of a cruel neglectin nothavingdiscovered it to you before. IndeedI little knew hownecessaryit was."

"Wellmadam" said Allworthy"bepleased toproceed."

"You must remembersir" said she"a young fellowwhosename wasSummer."

"Very well" cries Allworthy"he wasthe son of aclergymanof great learning and virtuefor whom I had the highestfriendship."

"So it appearedsir" answered she; "for I believeyoubred theyoung man upand maintained him at the university; whereI thinkhe had finished his studieswhen he came to reside at yourhouse; afiner manI must saythe sun never shone upon; forbesidesthehandsomest person I ever sawhe was so genteeland had so muchwit andgood breeding."

"Poor gentleman" said Allworthy"hewasindeeduntimely snatched away; and little did I think he had anysins ofthis kind to answer for; for I plainly perceive you aregoing totell me he was the father of your child."

 "Indeedsir" answered she"he was not."

"How!"said Allworthy"towhat then tends all this preface?"

"To a story" saidshe"whichI am concerned falls to my lot to unfold to you. Osir!prepare tohear something which will surprize youwill grieve you."

"Speak"said Allworthy"I am conscious of no crimeand cannot beafraid tohear."

"Sir" said she"that Mr. Summerthe sonof yourfriendeducated at your expensewhoafter living a year in thehouse asif he had been your own sondied there of the small-poxwastenderlylamented by you' and buried as if he had been your own;thatSummersirwas the father of this child."

"How!"saidAllworthy;"you contradict yourself."

"That I do not"answered she;"hewas indeed the father of this childbut not by me."

"Takecaremadam"said Allworthy"do notto shun the imputation of anycrimebeguilty of falshood. Remember there is One from whom youcanconceal nothingand before whose tribunal falshood will onlyaggravateyour guilt."

"Indeedsir" says she"I am nothismother;nor would I now think myself so for the world."

"I knowyourreason"said Allworthy "and shall rejoice as much as you to find itotherwise;yet you must rememberyou yourself confest it beforeme."

"So far what I confest" said she"was truethatthese handsconveyedthe infant to your bed; conveyed it thither at the command ofitsmother; at her commands I afterwards owned itand thought myselfby hergenerositynobly rewardedboth for my secrecy and myshame."

"Who could this woman be?" said Allworthy. "IndeedItremble toname her" answered Mrs. Waters. "By all this preparation Iam toguess that she was a relation of mine" cried he. "Indeedshewas a nearone." At which words Allworthy startedand shecontinued

"You had a sistersir."

"A sister!" repeated helookingaghast.

"As there is truth in heaven" cries she"your sisterwasthe motherof that child you found between your sheets."

"Can it bepossible?"cries he. "Good heavens!"

"Have patiencesir"said Mrs.Waters"and I will unfold to you the whole story. Just after yourdeparturefor LondonMiss Bridget came one day to the house of mymother.She was pleased to sayshe had heard an extraordinarycharacterof mefor my learning and superior understanding to all theyoungwomen thereso she was pleased to say. She then bid me cometo her tothe great house; wherewhen I attendedshe employed meto read toher. She expressed great satisfaction in my readingshewedgreatkindness to meand made me many presents. At last she begantocatechise me on the subject of secrecyto which I gave her suchsatisfactoryanswersthatat lasthaving locked the door of herroomshetook me into her closetand then locking that doorlikewiseshe said 'she should convince me of the vast reliance shehad on myintegrityby communicating a secret in which her honourandconsequently her lifewas concerned.' She then stoptand after asilence ofa few minutesduring which she often wiped her eyessheinquiredof me if I thought my mother might safely be confided in. IansweredI would stake my life on her fidelity. She then impartedto me thegreat secret which laboured in her breastand whichIbelievewas delivered with more pains than she afterwards suffered inchildbirth.It was then contrived that my mother and myself onlyshouldattend at the timeand that Mrs. Wilkins should be sent out ofthe wayas she accordingly wasto the very furthest part ofDorsetshireto inquire the character of a servant; for the lady hadturnedaway her own maid near three months before; during all whichtime Iofficiated about her person upon trialas she saidthoughassheafterwards declaredI was not sufficiently handy for the place.Thisandmany other such things which she used to say of mewere allthrown outto prevent any suspicion which Wilkins might hereafterhavewhenI was to own the child; for she thought it could never bebelievedshe would venture to hurt a young woman with whom she hadintrustedsuch a secret. You may be assuredsirI was well paidfor allthese affrontswhichtogether with being informed with theoccasionof themvery well contented me. Indeedthe lady had agreatersuspicion of Mrs. Wilkins than of any other person; not thatshe hadthe least aversion to the gentlewomanbut she thought herincapableof keeping a secretespecially from yousir; for I haveoftenheard Miss Bridget saythatif Mrs. Wilkins had committed amurdershe believed she would acquaint you with it. At last theexpectedday cameand Mrs. Wilkinswho had been kept a week inreadinessand put off from time to timeupon some pretence or otherthat shemight not return too soonwas dispatched. Then the child wasborninthe presence only of myself and my motherand was by mymotherconveyed to her own housewhere it was privately kept by hertill theevening of your returnwhen Iby the command of MissBridgetconveyed it into the bed where you found it. And allsuspicionswere afterwards laid asleep by the artful conduct of yoursisterinpretending ill-will to the boyand that any regard sheshewed himwas out of mere complacence to you."

 Mrs. Waters then made many protestations of the truth of this storyandconcluded by saying"Thussiryou have at last discoveredyournephew; for so I am sure you will hereafter think himand Iquestionnot but he will be both an honour and a comfort to youunder thatappellation."

  "Ineed notmadam" said Allworthy"express my astonishmentatwhat youhave told me; and yet surely you would notand could nothave puttogether so many circumstances to evidence an untruth. Iconfess Irecollect some passages relating to that Summerwhichformerlygave me a conceit that my sister had some liking to him. Imentionedit to her; for I had such a regard to the young manas wellon his ownaccount as on his father'sthat I should willingly haveconsentedto a match between them; but she exprest the highest disdainof myunkind suspicionas she called it; so that I never spoke moreon thesubject. Good heavens! Well! the Lord disposeth all things.--Yet sureit was a most unjustifiable conduct in my sister to carrythissecret with her out of the world."

"I promise yousir"saidMrs.Waters"she always profest a contrary intentionand frequentlytold meshe intended one day to communicate it to you. She saidindeedshe was highly rejoiced that her plot had succeeded so welland thatyou had of your own accord taken such a fancy to the childthat itwas yet unnecessary to make any express declaration. Oh!sirhadthat lady lived to have seen this poor young man turnedlike avagabond from your house: naysircould she have lived tohear thatyou had yourself employed a lawyer to prosecute him for amurder ofwhich he was not guilty-- Forgive meMr. AllworthyI mustsay it wasunkind. Indeedyou have been abusedhe never deservedit ofyou."

"Indeedmadam" said Allworthy"I havebeen abused bythepersonwhoever he wasthat told you so."

"Naysir"said she"Iwould not be mistakenI did not presume to say you were guiltyof anywrong. The gentleman who came to me proposed no such matter; heonly saidtaking me for Mr. Fitzpatrick's wifethatif Mr. Joneshadmurdered my husbandI should be assisted with any money Iwanted tocarry on the prosecutionby a very worthy gentlemanwhohe saidwas well apprized what a villain I had to deal with. It wasby thisman I found out who Mr. Jones was; and this manwhose name isDowlingMr. Jones tells me is your steward. I discovered his nameby a veryodd accident; for he himself refused to tell it me; butPartridgewho met him at my lodgings the second time he cameknewhimformerly at Salisbury."

 "And did this Mr. Dowling" says Allworthywith greatastonishmentin his countenance"tell you that I would assist intheprosecution?"-

"Nosir" answered she"I willnot charge himwrongfully.He said I should be assistedbut he mentioned no name.Yet youmust pardon mesirif from circumstances I thought itcould beno other."-

"Indeedmadam" says Allworthy"fromcircumstancesI am too well convinced it was another. Good Heaven! bywhatwonderful means is the blackest and deepest villany sometimesdiscovered!-Shall I beg youmadamto stay till the person you havementionedcomesfor I expect him every minute? nayhe may beperhapsalready in the house."

 Allworthy then stept to the doorin order to call a servantwhenin camenot Mr. Dowlingbut the gentleman who will be seen in thenextchapter.

Chapter8
Furthercontinuation

  Thegentleman who now arrived was no other than Mr. Western. He nosooner sawAllworthythanwithout considering in the least thepresenceof Mrs. Watershe began to vociferate in the followingmanner:"Fine doings at my house! A rare kettle of fish I havediscoveredat last! who the devil would be plagued with a daughter?"

"What'sthe matterneighbour?" said Allworthy. "Matter enough"answeredWestern: "when I thought she was just a coming to; naywhen shehad in a manner promised me to do as I would ha herand whenI was ahoped to have had nothing more to do than to have sent for thelawyerand finished all; what do you think I have found out? that thelittle b--hath bin playing tricks with me all the whileand carryingon acorrespondence that bastard of yours. Sister Westernwhom I havequarrelledwith upon her accountsent me word o'tand I orderedherpockets to be searched when she was asleepand here I have got unsignedwith the son of a whore's own name. I have not had patienceto readhalf o'tfor 'tis longer than one of parson Supple's sermons;but I findplainly it is all about love; and indeed what should itbe else? Ihave packed her up in chamber againand to-morrow morningdown shegoes into the countryunless she consents to be marrieddirectlyand there she shall live in a garret upon bread and waterall herdays; and the sooner such a b-- breaks her heart the betterthoughd--n herthat I believe is too tough. She will live longenough toplague me."

"Mr. Western" answered Allworthy"youknow Ihavealways protested against forceand you yourself consented thatnoneshould be used."

"Ay" cries he"that was onlyupon conditionthat shewould consent without. What the devil and doctor Faustus!shan't Ido what I will with my own daughterespecially when I desirenothingbut her own good?"

"Wellneighbour" answeredAllworthy"ifyou will give me leaveI will undertake once to argue with theyounglady."

"Will you?" said Western; "why that iskind nowandneighbourlyand mayhap you will do more than I have been able to dowith her;for I promise you she hath a very good opinion of you."

"Wellsir" said Allworthy"if you will go homeand release theyoung ladyfrom her captivityI will wait upon her within hishalf-hour."

"But suppose" said Western"she should run away withun in themeantime? For lawyer Dowling tells me there is no hopes ofhangingthe fellow at last; for that the man is aliveand like todo welland that he thinks Jones will be out of prison againpresently."

"How!" said Allworthy; "whatdid you employ him thentoinquire orto do anything in that matter?"

"Not I" answeredWestern"he mentioned it to me just now of his own accord."

"Justnow!"cries Allworthy"whywhere did you see him then? I want muchto see Mr.Dowling."

"Whyyou may see un an you will presently atmylodgings; for there is to be a meeting of lawyers there thismorningabout a mortgage. 'Icod! I shall lose two or dree thousandpoundsIbelieveby that honest gentlemanMr. Nightingale."

"Wellsir" said Allworthy"I will be with you within thehalf-hour."

"And do for once" cries the squire"take a fool'sadvice;never think of dealing with her by gentle methodstake myword foritthose will never do. I have tried 'um long enough. Shemust befrightened into itthere is no other way. Tell her I'm herfather;and of the horrid sin of disobedienceand of the dreadfulpunishmentof it in t'other worldand then tell her about beinglocked upall her life in a garret in thisand being kept only onbread andwater."

"I will do all I can" said Allworthy; "forIpromiseyou there is nothing I wish for more than an alliance withthisamiable creature."

"Naythe girl is well enough for mattero'that"cries the squire; "a man may go farther and meet with worsemeat; thatI may declare o' herthof she be my own daughter. And ifshe willbut be obedient to methere is narrow a father within ahundredmiles o' the placethat loves a daughter better than I do;but I seeyou are busy with the lady hereso I will go huome andexpectyou; and so your humble servant."

  Assoon as Mr. Western was goneMrs. Waters said"I seesirthe squirehath not the least remembrance of my face. I believeMr.Allworthyyou would not have known me either. I am veryconsiderablyaltered since that day when you so kindly gave me thatadvicewhich I had been happy had I followed."

"Indeedmadam"criesAllworthy"it gave me great concern when I first heard the contrary."

"Indeedsir" says she"I. was ruined by a very deep scheme ofvillanywhich if you knewthough I pretend not to think it wouldjustify mein your opinionit would at least mitigate my offenceandinduce youto pity me: you are not now at leisure to hear my wholestory; butthis I assure youI was betrayed by the most solemnpromisesof marriage; nayin the eye of heaven I was married tohim; forafter much reading on the subjectI am convinced thatparticularceremonies are only requisite to give a legal sanction tomarriageand have only a worldly use in giving a woman the privilegesof a wife;but that she who lives constant to one manafter asolemnprivate affiancewhatever the world may call herhathlittle tocharge on her own conscience."

"I am sorrymadam"saidAllworthy"you made so ill a use of your learning. Indeedit wouldhave beenwell that you had been possessed of much moreor hadremainedin a state of ignorance. And yetmadamI am afraid you havemore thanthis sin to answer for."

"During his life" answeredshe"whichwas above a dozen yearsI most solemnly assure you I hadnot. Andconsidersiron my behalfwhat is in the power of awomanstript of her reputation and left destitute; whether thegood-naturedworld will suffer such a stray sheep to return to theroad ofvirtueeven if she was never so desirous. I protestthenI wouldhave chose it had it been in my power; but necessity droveme intothe arms of Captain Waterswith whomthough still unmarriedI lived asa wife for many yearsand went by his name. I partedwith thisgentleman at Worcesteron his march against the rebelsandit wasthen I accidentally met with Mr. Joneswho rescued me from thehands of avillain. Indeedhe is the worthiest of men. No younggentlemanof his age isI believefreer from viceand few havethetwentieth part of his virtues; naywhatever vices he hath hadI amfirmly persuaded he hath now taken a resolution to abandon them."

"Ihope he hath" cries Allworthy"and I hope we willpreserve thatresolution.I must sayI have still the same hopes with regard toyourself.The worldI do agreeare apt to be too unmerciful on theseoccasions;yet time and perseverance will get the better of this theirdisinclinationas I may call itto pity; for though they are notlikeheavenready to receive a penitent sinner; yet a continuedrepentancewill at length obtain mercy even with the world. This youmay beassured ofMrs. Watersthat whenever I find you are sincerein suchgood intentionsyou shall want no assistance in my power tomake themeffectual."

 Mrs. Waters fell now upon her knees before himandin a flood oftearsmade him many most passionate acknowledgments of hisgoodnesswhichas she truly saidsavoured more of the divine thanhumannature.

 Allworthy raised her upand spoke in the most tender mannermakinguse ofevery expression which his invention could suggest to comfortherwhenhe was interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Dowlingwhoupon hisfirst entranceseeing Mrs. Watersstartedand appearedin someconfusion; from which he soon recovered himself as well ashe couldand then said he was in the utmost haste to attend counselat Mr.Western's lodgings; buthoweverthought it his duty to callandacquaint him with the opinion of counsel upon the case which hehad beforetold himwhich was that the conversion of the moneys inthat casecould not be questioned in a criminal causebut that anaction oftrover might be broughtand if it appeared to the jury tobe themoneys of plaintiffthat plaintiff would recover a verdict forthe value.

 Allworthywithout making any answer to thisbolted the doorandthenadvancing with a stern look to Dowlinghe said"Whatever beyourhastesirI must first receive an answer to some questions.Do youknow this lady?"-

"That ladysir!" answered Dowlingwithgreathesitation. Allworthy thenwith the most solemn voicesaid"LookyouMr. Dowlingas you value my favouror your continuance amomentlonger in my servicedo not hesitate nor prevaricate; butanswerfaithfully and truly to every question I ask.-- Do you knowthislady?"-

"Yessir" said Dowling"I have seenthe lady."

"Wheresir?"

"At her own lodgings."

"Upon what businessdid you gothithersir; and who sent you?"

"I wentsirto inquiresiraboutMr.Jones."

"And who sent you to inquire about him?"

"Whosir? whysirMr.Blifil sent me."

"And what did you say to the ladyconcerningthatmatter?"

"Naysirit is impossible to recollect everyword."

"Willyou pleasemadamto assist the gentleman's memory?"

"Hetoldmesir"said Mrs. Waters"that if Mr. Jones had murdered myhusbandIshould be assisted by any money I wanted to carry on theprosecutionby a very worthy gentlemanwho was well apprized whata villainI had to deal with. TheseI can safely swearwere the verywords hespoke."

"Were these the wordssir?" said Allworthy."Icannotcharge my memory exactly" cries Dowling"but I believe Idid speakto that purpose."

"And did Mr. Blifil order you to sayso?"

"I am suresirI should not have gone on my own accordnorhavewillingly exceeded my authority in matters of this kind. If Isaid soImust have so understood Mr. Blifil's instructions."

"LookyouMr.Dowling" said Allworthy; "I promise you before this ladythatwhatever you have done in this affair by Mr. Blifil's order Iwillforgiveprovided you now tell me strictly the truth; for Ibelievewhat you saythat you would not have acted of your ownaccordand without authority in this matter.-- Mr. Blifil thenlikewisesent you to examine the two fellows at Aldersgate?"

"Hedidsir."

"Welland what instructions did he then give you? Recollect aswell asyou canand tell meas near as possiblethe very words heused."-

"WhysirMr. Blifil sent me to find out the persons whowereeye-witnesses of this fight. He saidhe feared they might betamperedwith by Mr. Jonesor some of his friends. He saidbloodrequiredblood; and that not only all who concealed a murdererbutthose whoomitted anything in their power to bring him to justiceweresharers in his guilt. He saidhe found you was very desirousof havingthe villain brought to justicethough it was not proper youshouldappear in it."

"He did so?" says Allworthy.

"Yessir" criesDowling;"I should notI am surehave proceeded such lengths for thesake ofany other person living but your worship."

"What lengthssir?"said Allworthy.

"Naysir" cries Dowling"I wouldnot haveyourworship think I wouldon any accountbe guilty of subornationofperjury; but there are two ways of delivering evidence. I toldthemthereforethat if any offers should be made them on the othersidetheyshould refuse themand that they might be assured theyshouldlose nothing by being honest menand telling the truth. Isaidwewere told that Mr. Jones had assaulted the gentleman firstand thatif that was the truththey should declare it; and I didgive themsome hints that they should be no losers."

"I think youwentlengths indeed" cries Allworthy.-

"Naysir"answered Dowling"I amsure I did not desire them to tell an untruth;-- nor should Ihave saidwhat I didunless it had been to oblige you."-

"You wouldnot havethoughtI believe" says Allworthy"to have obliged mehadyou knownthat this Mr. Jones was my own nephew."-

"I am suresir"answeredhe"it did not become me to take any notice of what Ithoughtyou desired to conceal."

"How!" cries Allworthy"anddidyou knowit then?"

"Naysir" answered Dowling"if yourworshipbids mespeak the truthI am sure I shall do it.- IndeedsirI didknow it;for they were almost the last words which Madam Blifil everspokewhich she mentioned to me as I stood alone by her bedsidewhenshedelivered me the letter I brought your worship from her."

"Whatletter?"cries Allworthy.

"The lettersir" answered Dowling"whichI brought from Salisburyand which I delivered into thehands ofMr. Blifil."-

"O heavens!" cries Allworthy: "Welland whatwere thewords? What did my sister say to you?"

"She took me by thehand"answered he"andas she delivered me the lettersaid'Iscarceknow what I have written. Tell my brotherMr. Jones is hisnephew- Heis my son.- Bless him' says sheand then fell backwardas ifdying away. I presently called in the peopleand she neverspoke moreto meand died within a few minutes afterwards."-Allworthystood a minute silentlifting up his eyes; and thenturning toDowlingsaid"How came yousirnot to deliver me thismessage?"

"Your worship" answered he"must remember that youwas atthat timeill in bed; andbeing in a violent hurryas indeed Ialways amI delivered the letter and message to Mr. Blifilwho toldme hewould carry them both to youwhich he hath since told me hedidandthat your worshippartly out of friendship to Mr. Jonesandpartly outof regard to your sisterwould never have it mentionedand didintend to conceal it from the world; and thereforesirifyou hadnot mentioned it to me firstI am certain I should never havethought itbelonged to me to say anything of the mattereither toyourworship or any other person."

  Wehave remarked somewhere alreadythat it is possible for a man toconvey alie in the words of truth; this was the case at present;for Blifilhadin facttold Dowling what he now relatedbut had notimposedupon himnor indeed had imagined he was able so to do. Inrealitythe promises which Blifil had made to Dowlingwere themotiveswhich had induced him to secrecy; andas he now veryplainlysaw Blifil would not be able to keep themhe thought propernow tomake this confessionwhich the promises of forgivenessjoinedto thethreatsthe voicethe looks of Allworthyand the discoverieshe hadmade beforeextorted from himwho was besides taken unawaresand had notime to consider of evasions.

 Allworthy appeared well satisfied with this relationandhavingenjoinedon Dowling strict silence as to what had pastconducted thatgentlemanhimself to the doorlest he should see Blifilwho wasreturnedto his chamberwhere he exulted in the thoughts of hislastdeceit on his uncleand little suspected what had since passedbelow-stairs.

  AsAllworthy was returning to his roomhe met Mrs. Miller in theentrywhowith a face all pale and full of terrorsaid to him"OfsirI find this wicked woman hath been with youand you knowall; yetdo not on this account abandon the poor young man.Considersirhe was ignorant it was his own mother; and thediscoveryitself will most probably break his heartwithout yourunkindness."

 "Madam" says Allworthy"I am under such anastonishment at whatI haveheardthat I am really unable to satisfy you; but come with meinto myroom. IndeedMrs. MillerI have made surprizing discoveriesand youshall soon know them."

  Thepoor woman followed him trembling; and now Allworthygoing upto Mrs.Waterstook her by the handand thenturning to Mrs.Millersaid"What reward shall I bestow upon this gentlewomanfortheservices she hath done me?- O! Mrs. Milleryou have a thousandtimesheard me call the young man to whom you are so faithful afriendmyson. Little did I then think he was indeed related to me atall.- Yourfriendmadamis my nephew; he is the brother of thatwickedviper which I have so long nourished in my bosom.-- She willherselftell you the whole storyand how the youth came to pass forher son.IndeedMrs. MillerI am convinced that he hath beenwrongedand that I have been abused; abused by one whom you toojustlysuspected of being a villain. He isin truththe worst ofvillains."

  Thejoy which Mrs. Miller now feltbereft her of the power ofspeechand might perhaps have deprived her of her sensesif not oflifehadnot a friendly shower of tears come seasonably to herrelief. Atlengthrecovering so far from her transport as to beable tospeakshe cried"And is my dear Mr. Jones then yournephewsirand not the son of this lady? And are your eyes opened tohim atlast? And shall I live to see him as happy as he deserves?"

"Hecertainlyis my nephew" says Allworthy"and I hope all therest."

"And is this the dear good womanthe person" cries she"towhom allthis discovery is owing?"

"She is indeed" saysAllworthy.

"Whythen" cried Mrs. Millerupon her knees"may Heavenshowerdown itschoicest blessings upon her headand for this one goodactionforgive her all her sinsbe they never so many!"

 Mrs. Waters then informed them that she believed Jones would veryshortly bereleased; for that the surgeon was gonein company withanoblemanto the justice who committed himin order to certify thatMr.Fitzpatrick was out of all manner of dangerand to procure hisprisonerhis liberty.

 Allworthy said he should be glad to find his nephew there at hisreturnhome; but that he was then obliged to go on some business ofconsequence.He then called to a servant to fetch him a chairandpresentlyleft the two ladies together.

  Mr.Blifilhearing the chair orderedcame downstairs to attendupon hisuncle; for he never was deficient in such acts of duty. Heasked hisuncle if he was going outwhich is a civil way of askinga manwhither he is going: to which the other making no answerheagaindesired to know when he would be pleased to return?- Allworthymade noanswer to this neithertill he was just going into his chairand thenturning abouthe said

"Harkeesirdo you find outbefore myreturnthe letter which your mother sent me on herdeath-bed."Allworthy then departedand left Blifil in a situation tobe enviedonly by a man who is just going to be hanged.

Chapter9
A furthercontinuation

 Allworthy took an opportunitywhilst he was in the chairofreadingthe letter from Jones to Sophiawhich Western deliveredhim; andthere were some expressions in it concerning himself whichdrew tearsfrom his eyes. At length he arrived at Mr. Western'sandwasintroduced to Sophia.

 When the first ceremonies were pastand the gentleman and ladyhad takentheir chairsa silence of some minutes ensued; during whichthelatterwho had been prepared for the visit by her fathersatplayingwith her fanand had every mark of confusion both in hercountenanceand behaviour. At length Allworthywho was himself alittledisconcertedbegan thus: "I am afraidMiss Westernmy familyhath beenthe occasion of giving you some uneasiness; to whichIfearIhave innocently become more instrumental than I intended. Beassuredmadamhad I at first known how disagreeable the proposalshad beenI should not have suffered you to have been so longpersecuted.I hopethereforeyou will not think the design of thisvisit isto trouble you with any further solicitations of that kindbutentirely to relieve you from them."

 "Sir" said Sophiawith a little modest hesitation"thisbehaviouris mostkind and generousand such as I could expect only from Mr.Allworthy;but as you have been so kind to mention this matteryouwillpardon me for sayingit hathindeedgiven me great uneasinessand hathbeen the occasion of my suffering much cruel treatment from afatherwho wastill that unhappy affairthe tenderest and fondestof allparents. I am convincedsiryou are too good and generousto resentmy refusal of your nephew. Our inclinations are not in ourown power;and whatever may be his meritI cannot force them in hisfavour."

"I assure youmost amiable young lady" said Allworthy"Iam capableof no such resentmenthad the person been my own sonandhad Ientertained the highest esteem for him. For you say trulymadamwecannot force our inclinationsmuch less can they bedirectedby another."

"Oh! sir" answered Sophia"everyword youspeakproves you deserve that goodthat greatthat benevolentcharacterthe whole world allows you. I assure yousirnothing lessthan thecertain prospect of future misery could have made me resistthecommands of my father."

"I sincerely believe youmadam"repliedAllworthy"and I heartily congratulate you on your prudent foresightsince byso justifiable a resistance you have avoided misery indeed!"

"Youspeak nowMr. Allworthy" cries she"with a delicacywhich fewmen arecapable of feeling! but surelyin my opinionto lead ourlives withone to whom we are indifferent must be a state ofwretchedness.-Perhaps that wretchedness would be even increased by asense ofthe merits of an object to whom we cannot give ouraffections.If I had married Mr. Blifil--"

"Pardon my interruptingyoumadam" answered Allworthy"but I cannot bear thesupposition.-BelievemeMiss WesternI rejoice from my heartI rejoice in yourescape.--I have discovered the wretch for whom you have suffered allthis cruelviolence from your father to be a villain."

"Howsir!"criesSophia

"you must believe this surprizes me."-

"Ithathsurprizedmemadam" answered Allworthy"and so it will the world.-But I haveacquainted you with the real truth."

"Nothing but truth"saysSophia"canI am convincedcome from the lips of Mr.Allworthy.--Yetsirsuch suddensuch unexpected news-- Discoveredyou say--may villany be ever so!"-

"You will soon enough hear thestory"cries Allworthy;

"at present let us not mention so detesteda name.- Ihave another matter of a very serious nature to propose.-O! MissWesternI know your vast worthnor can I so easily part withtheambition of being allied to it.- I have a near relationmadamayoung manwhose character isI am convincedthe very opposite tothat ofthis wretchand whose fortune I will make equal to what hiswas tohave been. Could Imadamhope you would admit a visit fromhim?"Sophiaafter a minute's silenceanswered"I will deal withthe utmostsincerity with Mr. Allworthy. His characterand theobligationI have just received from himdemand it. I have determinedat presentto listen to no such proposals from any person. My onlydesire isto be restored to the affection of my fatherand to beagain themistress of his family. ThissirI hope to owe to yourgoodoffices. Let me beseech youlet me conjure youby all thegoodnesswhich Iand all who know youhave experienceddo nottheverymoment when you have released me from one persecutiondo notengage mein another as miserable and as fruitless."

"IndeedMissWestern"replied Allworthy"I am capable of no such conduct; and ifthis beyour resolutionhe must submit to the disappointmentwhatevertorments he may suffer under it."

"I must smile nowMr.Allworthy"answered Sophia"when you mention the torments of a manwhom I donot knowand who can consequently have so littleacquaintancewith me."

"Pardon medear young lady" criesAllworthy"Ibegin now to be afraid he hath had too much acquaintance for therepose ofhis future days; sinceif ever man was capable of asincereviolentand noble passionsuchI am convincedis myunhappynephew's for Miss Western."

"A nephew of your'sMr.Allworthy!"answered Sophia. "It is surely strange. I never heard ofhimbefore."

"Indeedmadam" cries Allworthy"it isonly thecircumstanceof his being my nephew to which you are a strangerandwhichtill this daywas a secret to me.- Mr. Joneswho has longloved youhe! he is my nephew!"

"Mr. Jones your nephewsir!"criesSophia"can it be possible?"

"He isindeedmadam"answeredAllworthy;"he is my own sister's son- as such I shall always own him;nor am Iashamed of owning him. I am much more ashamed of my pastbehaviourto him; but I was as ignorant of his merit as of his birth.IndeedMiss WesternI have used him cruelly-- Indeed I have."-- Herethe goodman wiped his eyesand after a short pause proceeded

"Inevershall be able to reward him for his sufferings without yourassistance.--Believe memost amiable young ladyI must have a greatesteem ofthat offering which I make to your worth. I know he hathbeenguilty of faults; but there is great goodness of heart at thebottom.Believe memadamthere is." Here he stoppedseeming toexpect ananswerwhich he presently received from Sophiaafter shehad alittle recovered herself from the hurry of spirits into which sostrangeand sudden information had thrown her: "I sincerely wish youjoysirof a discovery in which you seem to have such satisfaction.I doubtnot but you will have all the comfort you can promise yourselffrom it.The young gentleman hath certainly a thousand good qualitieswhichmakes it impossible he should not behave well to such anuncle."

"I hopemadam" said Allworthy"he hath those goodqualitieswhich must make him a good husband.- He mustI am surebeof all menthe most abandonedif a lady of your merit shouldcondescend--"

"You must pardon meMr. Allworthy" answered Sophia; "Icannotlisten to a proposal of this kind. Mr. JonesI am convincedhath muchmerit; but I shall never receive Mr. Jones as one who is tobe myhusband- Upon my honour I never will."

"Pardon memadam"criesAllworthy"if I am a little surprizedafter what I have heardfrom Mr.Western-- I hope the unhappy young man hath done nothing toforfeityour good opinionif he had ever the honour to enjoy it.Perhapshe may have been misrepresented to youas he was to me. Thesamevillany may have injured him everywhere.- He is no murdererIassureyou; as he hath been called."

"Mr. Allworthy"answered Sophia"Ihave told you my resolution. I wonder not at what my father hathtold you;butwhatever his apprehensions or fears have beenif Iknow myheartI have given no occasion for them; since it hath alwaysbeen afixed principle with menever to have married without hisconsent.This isI thinkthe duty of a child to a parent; and thisI hopenothing could ever have prevailed with me to swerve from. I donot indeedconceive that the authority of any parent can oblige us tomarry indirect opposition to our inclinations. To avoid a force ofthis kindwhich I had reason to suspectI left my father's houseand soughtprotection elsewhere. This is the truth of my story; and ifthe worldor my fathercarry my intentions any farthermy ownconsciencewill acquit me."

"I hear youMiss Western" criesAllworthy"with admiration. I admire the justness of your sentiments;but surelythere is more in this. I am cautious of offending youyounglady; but am I to look on all which I have hitherto heard orseen as adream only? And have you suffered so much cruelty from yourfather onthe account of a man to whom you have been always absolutelyindifferent?"

"I begMr. Allworthy" answered Sophia"you will notinsist onmy reasons;- yesI have suffered indeed; I will notMr.Allworthyconceal-- I will be very sincere with you-I own I had agreatopinion of Mr. Jones- I believe- I know I have suffered for myopinion- Ihave been treated cruelly by my auntas well as by myfather;but that is now past- I beg I may not be farther pressed; forwhateverhath beenmy resolution is now fixed. Your nephewsirhathmanyvirtues- he hath great virtuesMr. Allworthy. I question not buthe will doyou honour in the worldand make you happy."

"I wish Icould makehim somadam" replied Allworthy; "but that I am convincedis only inyour power. It is that conviction which hath made me soearnest asolicitor in his favour."

"You are deceived; indeedsiryou aredeceived" said Sophia. "I hope not by him. It issufficientto havedeceived me. Mr. AllworthyI must insist on being pressed nofarther onthis subject. I should be sorry- nayI will not injure himin yourfavour. I wish Mr. Jones very well. I sincerely wish him well;and Irepeat it again to youwhatever demerit he may have to meI amcertain hehath many good qualities. I do not disown my formerthoughts;but nothing can ever recal them. At present there is not aman uponearth whom I would more resolutely reject than Mr. Jones; norwould theaddresses of Mr. Blifil himself be less agreeable to me."

 Western had been long impatient for the event of this conferenceand wasjust now arrived at the door to listen; whenhaving heard thelastsentiments of his daughter's hearthe lost all temperandburstingopen the door in a ragecried out

"It is a lie! It is ad--n'dlie! It is all owing to that d--n'd rascal Jones; and if shecould getat unshe'd ha un any hour of the day." Here Allworthyinterposedand addressing himself to the squire with some anger inhis lookhe said"Mr. Westernyou have not kept your word withme. Youpromised to abstain from all violence."

"Whyso I did"criesWestern"as long as it was possible; but to hear a wenchtellingsuch confounded lies-- Zounds! doth she thinkif she can makevools ofother volkshe can make one of me?-- NonoI know herbetterthan thee dost."

"I am sorry to tell yousir"answeredAllworthy"it doth not appearby your behaviour to this young ladythat youknow her at all. I ask pardon for what I say: but I think ourintimacyyour own desiresand the occasion justify me. She is yourdaughterMr. Westernand I think she doth honour to your name. If Iwascapable of envyI should sooner envy you on this account than anyother manwhatever."

"Odrabbit it!" cries the squire"Iwish she wasthinewith all my heart- wouldst soon be glad to be rid of thetrouble o'her."

"Indeedmy good friend" answered Allworthy"youyourselfare the cause of all the trouble you complain of. Place thatconfidencein the young lady which she so well deservesand I amcertainyou will be the happiest father on earth."-

"I confidenceinher?"cries the squire. "'Sblood! what confidence can I place inherwhenshe won't do as I would ha' her? Let her gi' but her consentto marryas I would ha' herand I'll place as much confidence inher aswouldst ha' me."-

"You have no rightneighbour"answeredAllworthy"to insist on any such consent. A negative voice yourdaughterallows youand God and nature have thought proper to allowyou nomore."

"A negative voice!" cries the squire. "Ay!ay! I'llshow youwhat a negative voice I ha.- Go alonggo into your chambergoyoustubborn--."

"IndeedMr. Western" said Allworthy"indeedyou useher cruelly- I cannot bear to see this- you shallyou mustbehave toher in a kinder manner. She deserves the best of treatment."

"Yesyes" said the squire"I know what she deserves: now she'sgoneI'llshew you what she deserves. See heresirhere is a letterfrom mycousinmy Lady Bellastonin which she is so kind to gi' metounderstand that the fellow is got out of prison again; and here sheadvises meto take all the care I can o' the wench. Odzookers!neighbourAllworthyyou don't know what it is to govern a daughter."

  Thesquire ended his speech with some compliments to his ownsagacity;and then Allworthyafter a formal prefaceacquainted himwith thewhole discovery which he had made concerning Joneswithhis angerto Blifiland with ever particular which hath beendisclosedto the reader in the preceding chapters.

  Menover-violent in their dispositions arefor the most partaschangeablein them. No sooner than was Western informed of Mr.Allworthy'sintention to make Jones his heirthan he joinedheartilywith the uncle in every commendation of the nephewandbecame aseager for her marriage with Jonesas he had before beento coupleher to Blifil.

 Here Mr. Allworthy was again forced to interposeand to relate whathad passedbetween him and Sophiaat which he testified greatsurprize.

  Thesquire was silent a momentand looked wild with astonishment atthisaccount.- At last he cried out"Whywhat can be the meaning ofthisneighbour Allworthy? Vond o' un she wasthat I'll be swornto.--Odzookers! I have hit o't. As sure as a gun I have hit o' thevery righto't. It's all along o' zister. The girl hath got ahankeringafter this son of a whore of a lord. I vound 'em together atmy cousinmy Lady Bellaston's. He hath turned the head o' herthat'scertain-but d--n me if he shall ha her- I'll ha no lords norcourtiersin my vamily."

 Allworthy now made a long speechin which he repeated hisresolutionto avoid all violent measuresand very earnestlyrecommendedgentle methods to Mr. Westernas those by which hemight beassured of succeeding best with his daughter. He then tookhis leaveand returned back to Mrs. Millerbut was forced tocomplywith the earnest entreaties of the squirein promising tobring Mr.Jones to visit him that afternoonthat he mightas hesaid"make all matters up with the young gentleman." At Mr.Allworthy'sdepartureWestern promised to follow his advice in hisbehaviourto Sophiasaying"I don't know how 'tisbut d--n meAllworthyif you don't make me always do just as you please; andyet I haveas good an estate as youand am in the commission of thepeace aswell as yourself."

Chapter10
Whereinthe history begins to draw towards a conclusion

 When Allworthy returned to his lodgingshe heard Mr. Jones was justarrivedbefore him. He hurried therefore instantly into an emptychamberwhither he ordered Mr. Jones to be brought to him alone.

 Itis impossible to conceive a more tender or moving scene than themeetingbetween the uncle and nephew (for Mrs. Watersas the readermay wellsupposehad at her last visit discovered to him the secretof hisbirth). The first agonies of joy which were felt on bothsides areindeedbeyond my power to describe: I shall not thereforeattemptit. After Allworthy had raised Jones from his feetwhere hehadprostrated himselfand received him into his arms"O mychild!"he cried"how have I been to blame! how have I injured you!Whatamends can I ever make you for those unkindthose unjustsuspicionswhich I have entertainedand for all the sufferings theyhaveoccasioned to you?"

"Am I not now made amends?" criesJones."Wouldnot my sufferingsif they had been ten times greaterhavebeen nowrichly repaid? O my dear unclethis goodnessthistendernessoverpowersunmansdestroys me. I cannot bear thetransportswhich flow so fast upon me. To be again restored to yourpresenceto your favour; to be once more thus kindly received by mygreatmynoblemy generous benefactor."

"Indeedchild"criesAllworthy"I have used you cruelly."-- He then explained to him allthetreachery of Blifiland again repeated expressions of the utmostconcernfor having been induced by that treachery to use him soill. "Otalk not so!" answered Jones; "indeedsiryou have usedme nobly.The wisest man might be deceived as you were; andundersuch adeceptionthe best must have acted just as you did. Yourgoodnessdisplayed itself in the midst of your angerjust as itthenseemed. I owe everything to that goodnessof which I have beenmostunworthy. Do not put me on self-accusationby carrying yourgeneroussentiments too far. Alas! sirI have not been punishedmore thanI have deserved; and it shall be the whole business of myfuturelife to deserve that happiness you now bestow on me; forbelievememy dear unclemy punishment hath not been thrown awayupon me:though I have been a greatI am not a hardened sinner; IthankHeavenI have had time to reflect on my past lifewherethough Icannot charge myself with any gross villanyyet I candiscernfollies and vices more than enough to repent and to be ashamedof;follies which have been attended with dreadful consequences tomyselfand have brought me to the brink of destruction."

"I amrejoicedmy dear child" answered Allworthy"to hear you talk thussensibly;for as I am convinced hypocrisy (good Heaven! how have Ibeenimposed on by it in others!) was never among your faultsso Icanreadily believe all you say. You now seeTomto what dangersimprudencealone may subject virtue (for virtueI am now convincedyou lovein a great degree). Prudence is indeed the duty which weowe toourselves; and if we will be so much our own enemies as toneglectitwe are not to wonder if the world is deficient indischargingtheir duty to us; for when a man lays the foundation ofhis ownruinothers willI am afraidbe too apt to build upon it.You sayhoweveryou have seen your errorsand will reform them. Ifirmlybelieve youmy dear child; and thereforefrom this momentyou shallnever be reminded of them by me. Remember them only yourselfso far asfor the future to teach you the better to avoid them; butstillrememberfor your comfortthat there is this greatdifferencebetween those faults which candor may construe intoimprudenceand those which can be deduced from villany only. Theformerperhapsare even more apt to subject a man to ruin; but if hereformhis character willat lengthbe totally retrieved; theworldthough not immediatelywill in time be reconciled to him;and he mayreflectnot without some mixture of pleasureon thedangers hehath escaped; but villanymy boywhen once discoveredisirretrievable;the stains which this leaves behindno time willwash away.The censures of mankind will pursue the wretchtheir scornwill abashhim in publick; and if shame drives him into retirementhewill go toit with all those terrors with which a weary childwhois afraidof hobgoblinsretreats from company to go to bed alone.Here hismurdered conscience will haunt him.- Reposelike a falsefriendwill fly from him. Wherever he turns his eyeshorror presentsitself; ifhe looks backwardunavailable repentance treads on hisheels; ifforwardincurable despair stares him in the facetilllike acondemned prisoner confined in a dungeonhe detests hispresentconditionand yet dreads the consequence of that hour whichis torelieve him from it. Comfort yourselfI saymy childthatthis isnot your case; and rejoice with thankfulness to him who hathsufferedyou to see your errorsbefore they have brought on youthatdestruction to which a persistence in even those errors must haveled you.You have deserted them; and the prospect now before you issuchthathappiness seems in your own power." At these words Jonesfetched adeep sigh; upon whichwhen Allworthy remonstratedhe said"SirI will conceal nothing from you: I fear there is one consequenceof myvices I shall never be able to retrieve. Omy dear uncle! Ihave losta treasure."

"You need say no more" answeredAllworthy;"Iwill be explicit with you; I know what you lament; I have seenthe youngladyand have discoursed with her concerning you. This Imustinsist onas an earnest of your sincerity in all you havesaidandof the stedfastness of your resolutionthat you obey mein oneinstance. To abide intirely by the determination of the youngladywhether it shall be in your favour or no. She hath alreadysufferedenough from solicitations which hate to think of; she shallowe nofurther constraint to my family: I know her father will be asready totorment her now on your account as he hath formerly been onanother's;but I am determined she shall suffer no more confinementno moreviolenceno more uneasy hours."

"Omy dear uncle!"answeredJones"layI beseech yousome command on mein which Ishall havesome merit in obedience. Believe mesirthe only instancein which Icould disobey you would be to give an uneasy moment to mySophia.Nosirif I am so miserable to have incurred her displeasurebeyond allhope of forgivenessthat alonewith the dreadfulreflectionof causing her miserywill be sufficient to overpowerme. Tocall Sophia mine is the greatestand now the only additionalblessingwhich heaven can bestow; but it is a blessing which I mustowe to heralone."

"I will not flatter youchild" criesAllworthy;"Ifear your case is desperate: I never saw stronger marks of anunalterableresolution in any person than appeared in her vehementdeclarationsagainst receiving your addresses; for whichperhapsyoucanaccount better than myself."

"Ohsir! I can account toowell"answeredJones; "I have sinned against her beyond all hope ofpardon;and guilty as I ammy guilt unfortunately appears to her inten timesblacker than the real colours. Omy dear uncle! I find myfolliesare irretrievable; and all your goodness cannot save me fromperdition."

  Aservant now acquainted them that Mr. Western was below stairs; forhiseagerness to see Jones could not wait till the afternoon. UponwhichJoneswhose eyes were full of tearsbegged his uncle toentertainWestern a few minutestill he a little recovered himself;to whichthe good man consentedandhaving ordered Mr. Western to beshown intoa parlourwent down to him.

 Mrs. Miller no sooner heard that Jones was alone (for she had notyet seenhim since his release from prison) than she came eagerly intothe roomandadvancing towards Joneswished him heartily joy of hisnew-founduncle and his happy reconciliation; adding"I wish Icould giveyou joy on another accountmy dear child; but anythingsoinexorable I never saw."

 Joneswith some appearance of surprizeasked her what she meant."Whythen" says she"I have been with the young ladyand haveexplainedall matters to heras they were told to me by my sonNightingale.She can have no longer any doubt about the letter; ofthat I amcertain; for I told her my son Nightingale was ready to takehis oathif she pleasedthat it was all his own inventionand theletter ofhis inditing. I told her the very reason of sending theletterought to recommend you to her the moreas it was all uponheraccountand a plain proof that you was resolved to quit allyourprofligacy for the future; that you had never been guilty of asingleinstance of infidelity to her since your seeing her in town:I amafraid I went too far there; but Heaven forgive me! I hope yourfuturebehaviour will be my justification. I am sure I have said all Ican; butall to no purpose. She remains inflexible. She saysshehadforgiven many faults on account of youth; but expressed suchdetestationof the character of a libertinethat she absolutelysilencedme. I often attempted to excuse you; but the justness ofheraccusation flew in my face. Upon my honourshe is a lovely womanand one ofthe sweetest and most sensible creatures I ever saw. Icould havealmost kissed her for one expression she made use of. Itwas asentiment worthy of Senecaor of a bishop. 'I once fanciedmadam'said she'I had discovered great goodness of heart in Mr.Jones; andfor that I own I had a sincere esteem; but an entireprofligacyof manners will corrupt the best heart in the world; andall whicha good-natured libertine can expect isthat we should mixsomegrains of pity with our contempt and abhorrence.' She is anangeliccreaturethat is the truth on't."

"OMrs. Miller!"answeredJones"can I bear to think I have lost such an angel?"

"Lost!no" cries Mrs. Miller; "I hope you have not lost her yet.Resolve toleave such vicious coursesand you may yet have hopes;nayifshe should remain inexorablethere is another young ladyasweetpretty young ladyand a swinging fortunewho is absolutelydying forlove of you. I heard of it this very morningand I toldit to MissWestern; nayI went a little beyond the truth again; for Itold heryou had refused her; but indeed I knew you would refuseher. Andhere I must give you a little comfort; when I mentioned theyounglady's namewho is no other than the pretty widow HuntIthoughtshe turned pale; but when I said you had refused herI willbe swornher face was all over scarlet in an instant; and these wereher verywords: 'I will not deny but that I believe he has someaffectionfor me.'

 Here the conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Westernwhocould nolonger be kept out of the room even by the authority ofAllworthyhimself; though thisas we have often seenhad a wonderfulpower overhim.

 Western immediately went up to Jonescrying out"My old friendTomI amglad to see thee with all my heart! all past must beforgotten;I could not intend any affront to theebecauseasAllworthyhere knowsnaydost know it thyselfI took thee foranotherperson; and where a body means no harmwhat signifies a hastyword ortwo? One Christian must forget and forgive another."

"Ihopesir" said Jones"I shall never forget the manyobligations Ihave hadto you; but as for any offence towards meI declare I aman utterstranger."

"A't" says Western"then give me thyfist; a'tas heartyan honest cock as any in the kingdom. Come along with me;I'll carrythee to thy mistress this moment." Here Allworthyinterposed;and the squire being unable to prevail either with theuncle ornephewwasafter some litigationobliged to consent todelayintroducing Jones to Sophia till the afternoon; at which timeAllworthyas well in compassion to Jones as in compliance with theeagerdesires of Westernwas prevailed upon to promise to attend atthetea-table.

  Theconversation which now ensued was pleasant enough; and withwhichhadit happened earlier in our historywe would haveentertainedour reader; but as we have now leisure only to attend towhat isvery materialit shall suffice to saythat matters beingentirelyadjusted as to the afternoon visitMr. Western againreturnedhome.

Chapter11
Thehistory draws nearer to a conclusion

 When Mr. Western was departedJones began to inform Mr. Allworthyand Mrs.Miller that his liberty had been procured by two lordswhotogether with two surgeons and a friend of Mr. Nightingale'shadattendedthe magistrate by whom he had been committedand by whomonthesurgeons' oathsthat the wounded person was out of all mannerof dangerfrom his woundhe was discharged.

  Oneonly of these lordshe saidhe had ever seen beforeandthat nomore than once; but the other had greatly surprized himbyasking hispardon for an offence he had been guilty of towards himoccasionedhe saidentirely by his ignorance who he was.

  Nowthe reality of the casewith which Jones was not acquaintedtillafterwardswas this:- The lieutenant whom Lord Fellamar hademployedaccording to the advice of Lady Bellastonto press Jones asa vagabondinto the sea-servicewhen he came to report to hislordshipthe event which we have before seenspoke very favourably ofthebehaviour of Mr. Jones on all accountsand strongly assuredthat lordthat he must have mistaken the personfor that Jones wascertainlya gentleman; insomuch that his lordshipwho was strictlya man ofhonourand would by no means have been guilty of an actionwhich theworld in general would have condemnedbegan to be muchconcernedfor the advice which he had taken.

 Within a day or two after thisLord Fellamar happened to dinewith theIrish peerwhoin a conversation upon the duelacquaintedhis company with the character of Fitzpatrick; to whichindeedhedid not do strict justiceespecially in what related tohis lady.He said she was the most innocentthe most injured womanaliveandthat from compassion alone he had undertaken her cause.He thendeclared an intention of going the next morning toFitzpatrick'slodgingsin order to prevail with himif possibleto consentto a separation from his wifewhothe peer saidwas inapprehensionsfor her lifeif she should ever return to be underthe powerof her husband. Lord Fellamar agreed to go with himthat hemightsatisfy himself more concerning Jones and the circumstances ofthe duel;for he was by no means easy concerning the part he hadacted. Themoment his lordship gave a hint of his readiness toassist inthe delivery of the ladyit was eagerly embraced by theothernoblemanwho depended much on the authority of Lord Fellamaras hethought it would greatly contribute to awe Fitzpatrick into acompliance;and perhaps he was in the right; for the poor Irishmanno soonersaw these noble peers had undertaken the cause of hiswifethanhe submittedand articles of separation were soon drawn upand signedbetween the parties.

 Fitzpatrickwho had been so well satisfied by Mrs. Watersconcerningthe innocence of his wife with Jones at Uptonorperhapsfrom someother reasonswas now become so indifferent to that matterthat hespoke highly in favour of Jones to Lord Fellamartook all theblame uponhimselfand said the other had behaved very much like agentlemanand a man of honour; and upon that lord's further inquiryconcerningMr. JonesFitzpatrick told him he was nephew to agentlemanof very great fashion and fortunewhich was the accounthe hadjust received from Mrs. Waters after her interview withDowling.

 Lord Fellamar now thought it behoved him to do everything in hispower tomake satisfaction to a gentleman whom he had so grosslyinjuredand without any consideration of rivalship (for he had nowgiven overall thoughts of Sophia)determined to procure Mr.Jones'slibertybeing satisfiedas well from Fitzpatrick as hissurgeonthat the wound was not mortal. He therefore prevailed withthe Irishpeer to accompany him to the place where Jones was confinedto whom hebehaved as we have already related.

 When Allworthy returned to his lodgingshe immediately carriedJones intohis roomand then acquainted him with the whole matteraswell whathe had heard from Mrs. Waters as what he had discovered fromMr.Dowling.

 Jones expressed great astonishment and no less concern at thisaccountbut without making any comment or observation upon it. Andnow amessage was brought from Mr. Blifildesiring to know if hisuncle wasat leisurethat he might wait upon him. Allworthy startedand turnedpaleand then in a more passionate tone than I believehe hadever used beforebid the servant tell Blifil he knew himnot."Considerdear sir" cries Jonesin a trembling voice. "Ihaveconsidered" answered Allworthy"and you yourself shallcarry mymessage tothe villain. No one can carry him the sentence of his ownruin soproperlyas the man whose ruin he hath so villanouslycontrived."

"Pardon medear sir" said Jones; "a moment'sreflectionwillI am sureconvince you of the contrary. What mightperhaps bebut justice from another tonguewould from mine be insult;and towhom?-my own brother and your nephew. Nor did he use me sobarbarously-indeedthat would have been more inexcusable thananythinghe hath done. Fortune may tempt men of no very baddispositionsto injustice; but insults proceed only from black andrancorousmindsand have no temptations to excuse them. Let mebeseechyousirto do nothing by him in the present height of youranger.Considermy dear uncleI was not myself condemned unheard."Allworthystood silent a momentand thenembracing Joneshe saidwith tearsgushing from his eyes"O my child! to what goodness have Ibeen solong blind!"

 Mrs. Miller entering the room at that momentafter a gentle rapwhich wasnot perceivedand seeing Jones in the arms of his unclethe poorwoman in an agony of joy fell upon her kneesand burst forthinto themost ecstatic thanksgivings to heaven for what hadhappened;thenrunning to Jonesshe embraced him eagerlycrying"Mydearest friendI wish you joy a thousand and a thousand timesof thisblest day." And next Mr. Allworthy himself received the samecongratulations.To which he answered"IndeedindeedMrs. MillerIam beyondexpression happy." Some few more raptures having passed onall sidesMrs. Miller desired them both to walk down to dinner in theparlourwhere she said there were a very happy set of peopleassembled-being indeed no other than Mr. Nightingale and his brideand hiscousin Harriet with her bridegroom.

 Allworthy excused himself from dining with the companysaying hehadordered some little thing for him and his nephew in his ownapartmentfor that they had much private business to discourse of;but wouldnot resist promising the good woman that both he and Joneswould makepart of her society at supper.

 Mrs. Miller then asked what was to be done with Blifil? "forindeed"says she"I cannot be easy while such a villain is in myhouse."-Allworthy answered"He was as uneasy as herself on the sameaccount."

"Oh!" cries she"if that be the caseleave thematter tomeI'llsoon show him the outside out of my doorsI warrant you.Here aretwo or three lusty fellows below-stairs."

"There will be noneed ofany violence" cries Allworthy; "if you will carry him amessagefrom mehe willI am convinceddepart of his own accord."

"WillI?" said Mrs. Miller; "I never did anything in my life withabetterwill." Here Jones interferedand said"He had consideredthe matterbetterand wouldif Mr. Allworthy pleasedbe himself themessenger.I know" says he"already enough of your pleasuresirand I begleave to acquaint him with it by my own words. Let mebeseechyousir" added he"to reflect on the dreadfulconsequencesof driving him to violent and sudden despair. Howunfitalas! is this poor man to die in his present situation." Thissuggestionhad not the least effect on Mrs. Miller. She left the roomcrying"You are too goodMr. Jonesinfinitely too good to live inthisworld." But it made a deeper impression on Allworthy. "Mygoodchild"said he"I am equally astonished at the goodness of yourheartandthe quickness of your understanding. Heaven indeed forbidthat thiswretch should be deprived of any means or time forrepentance!That would be a shocking consideration indeed. Go tohimthereforeand use your own discretion; yet do not flatter himwith anyhopes of my forgiveness; for I shall never forgive villanyfartherthan my religion obliges meand that extends not either toour bountyor our conversation."

 Jones went up to Blifil's roomwhom he found in a situation whichmoved hispitythough it would have raised a less amiable passionin manybeholders. He had cast himself on his bedwhere he layabandoninghimself to despairand drowned in tears; not in such tearsas flowfrom contritionand wash away guilt from minds which havebeenseduced or surprized into it unawares against the bent of theirnaturaldispositionsas will sometimes happen from human frailtyeven tothe good; nothese tears were such as the frighted thiefsheds inhis cartand are indeed the effects of that concern whichthe mostsavage natures are seldom deficient in feeling forthemselves.

  Itwould be unpleasant and tedious to paint this scene in fulllength.Let it suffice to saythat the behaviour of Jones was kind toexcess. Heomitted nothing which his invention could supplytoraise andcomfort the drooping spirits of Blifilbefore hecommunicatedto him the resolution of his uncle that he must quitthe housethat evening. He offered to furnish him with any money hewantedassured him of his hearty forgiveness of all he had doneagainsthimthat he would endeavour to live with him hereafter as abrotherand would leave nothing unattempted to effectuate areconciliationwith his uncle.

 Blifil was at first sullen and silentbalancing in his mind whetherhe shouldyet deny all; butfinding at last the evidence too strongagainsthimhe betook himself at last to confession. He then askedpardon ofhis brother in the most vehement mannerprostratedhimself onthe groundand kissed his feet; in shorthe was now asremarkablymean as he had been before remarkably wicked.

 Jones could not so far check his disdainbut that it a littlediscovereditself in his countenance at this extreme servility. Heraised hisbrother the moment he could from the groundand advisedhim tobear his afflictions more like a man; repeatingat the sametimehispromisesthat he would do all in his power to lessenthem; forwhich Blifilmaking many professions of his unworthinesspouredforth a profusion of thanks; and thenhe having declared hewouldimmediately depart to another lodgingJones returned to hisuncle.

 Among other mattersAllworthy now acquainted Jones with thediscoverywhich he had made concerning the L500 banknotes. "I have"said he"already consulted a lawyerwho tells meto my greatastonishmentthat there is no punishment for a fraud of this kind.Indeedwhen I consider the black ingratitude of this fellow towardyouIthink a highwaymancompared to himis an innocent person."

 "Good Heaven!" says Jonesis it possible?- I am shockedbeyondmeasure atthis news. I thought there was not an honester fellow intheworld.-- The temptation of such a sum was too great for him towithstand;for smaller matters have come safe to me through hishand.Indeedmy dear uncleyou must suffer me to call it weaknessratherthan ingratitude; for I am convinced the poor fellow lovesmeandhath done me some kindnesseswhich I can never forget; nayIbelieve hehath repented of this very act; for it is not above a dayor twoagowhen my affairs seemed in the most desperate situationthat hevisited me in my confinementand offered me any money Iwanted.Considersirwhat a temptation to a man who hath tasted suchbitterdistressit must beto have a sum in his possession whichmust puthim and his family beyond any future possibility of sufferingthe like."

 "Child" cries Allworthy"you carry this forgivingtemper toofar. Suchmistaken mercy is not only weaknessbut borders oninjusticeand is very pernicious to societyas it encourages vice.Thedishonesty of this fellow I mightperhapshave pardonedbutnever hisingratitude. And give me leave to saywhen we suffer anytemptationto atone for dishonesty itselfwe are as candid andmercifulas we ought to be; and so far I confess I have gone; for Ihave oftenpitied the fate of a highwaymanwhen I have been on thegrandjury; and have more than once applied to the judge on the behalfof such ashave had any mitigating circumstances in their case; butwhendishonesty is attended with any blacker crimesuch as crueltymurderingratitudeor the likecompassion and forgiveness thenbecomefaults. I am convinced the fellow is a villainand he shall bepunished;at least as far as I can punish him."

 This was spoken with so stern a voicethat Jones did not thinkproper tomake any reply; besidesthe hour appointed by Mr. Westernnow drewso nearthat he had barely time left to dress himself.Heretherefore ended the present dialogueand Jones retired toanotherroomwhere Partridge attendedaccording to orderwith hiscloaths.

 Partridge had scarce seen his master since the happy discovery.The poorfellow was unable to contain or express his transports. Hebehavedlike one franticand made almost as many mistakes while hewasdressing Jones as I have seen made by Harlequin in dressinghimself onthe stage.

  Hismemoryhoweverwas not in the least deficient. Herecollectednow many omens and presages of this happy eventsome ofwhich hehad remarked at the timebut many more he now remembered;nor did heomit the dreams he had dreamt the evening before hismeetingwith Jones; and concluded with saying"I always told yourhonoursomething boded in my mind that you would one time or otherhave it inyour power to make my fortune." Jones assured him that thisbodingshould as certainly be verified with regard to him as all theotheromens had been to himself; which did not a little add to all theraptureswhich the poor fellow had already conceived on account of hismaster.

Chapter12
Approachingstill nearer to the end

 Jonesbeing now completely dressedattended his uncle to Mr.Western's.He wasindeedone of the finest figures ever beheldand hisperson alone would have charmed the greater part of womankind;but wehope it hath already appeared in this history that Naturewhenshe formedhimdid not totally relyas she sometimes dothon thismeritonlyto recommend her work.

 Sophiawhoangry as she waswas likewise set forth to the bestadvantagefor which I leave my female readers to accountappeared soextremelybeautifulthat even Allworthywhen he saw hercould notforbearwhispering Westernthat he believed she was the finestcreaturein the world. To which Western answeredin a whisperoverheardby all present"So much the better for Tom;- for d--n me ifhe shan'tha the tousling her." Sophia was all over scarlet at thesewordswhile Tom's countenance was altogether as paleand he wasalmostready to sink from his chair.

  Thetea-table was scarce removed before Western lugged Allworthy outof theroomtelling him he had business of consequence to impartandmust speakto him that instant in privatebefore he forgot it.

  Thelovers were now aloneand it willI question notappearstrange tomany readersthat those who had so much to say to oneanotherwhen danger and difficulty attended their conversationandwho seemedso eager to rush into each other's arms when so many barslay intheir waynow that with safety they were at liberty to sayor dowhatever they pleasedshould both remain for some time silentandmotionless; insomuch that a stranger of moderate sagacity mighthave wellconcluded they were mutually indifferent; but so it washoweverstrange it may seem; both sat with their eyes cast downwardson thegroundand for some minutes continued in perfect silence.

  Mr.Jones during this interval attempted once or twice to speakbutwasabsolutely incapablemuttering onlyor rather sighing outsomebroken words; when Sophia at lengthpartly out of pity to himand partlyto turn the discourse from the subject which she knewwellenough he was endeavouring to opensaid-

 "Suresiryou are the most fortunate man in the world in thisdiscovery."

"And can you reallymadamthink me so fortunate" saidJonessighing"while I have incurred your displeasure?"

"Naysir"says she"as to thatyou best know whether you have deservedit."

"Indeedmadam" answered he"you yourself are aswellapprizedof all my demerits. Mrs. Miller hath acquainted you withthe wholetruth. O! my Sophiaam I never to hope for forgiveness?"

"IthinkMr. Jones" said she"I may almost depend on yourownjusticeand leave it to yourself to pass sentence on your ownconduct."

"Alas! madam" answered he"it is mercyand notjusticewhich Iimplore at your hands. JusticeI knowmust condemn me.- Yetnot forthe letter I sent to Lady Bellaston. Of that I most solemnlydeclareyou have had a true account." He then insisted much on thesecuritygiven him by Nightingale of a fair pretence for breaking offifcontrary to their expectationsher ladyship should have acceptedhis offer;but confest that he had been guilty of a great indiscretionto putsuch a letter as that into her power"which" said he"Ihavedearlypaid forin the effect it has upon you."

"I do notIcannot"says she"believe otherwise of that letter than you would have me. MyconductIthinkshows you clearly I do not believe there is muchin that.And yetMr. Joneshave I not enough to resent? After whatpast atUptonso soon to engage in a new amour with another womanwhile Ifanciedand you pretendedyour heart was bleeding for me?Indeedyou have acted strangely. Can I believe the passion you haveprofest tome to be sincere? Orif I canwhat happiness can I assuremyself ofwith a man capable of so much inconstancy?"

"O! mySophia"cries he"do not doubt the sincerity of the purest passionthat everinflamed a human breast. Thinkmost adorable creatureofmy unhappysituationof my despair. Could Imy Sophiahaveflatteredmyself with the most distant hopes of being ever permittedto throwmyself at your feet in the manner I do nowit would not havebeen inthe power of any other woman to have inspired a thoughtwhich theseverest chastity could have condemned. Inconstancy toyou! OSophia! if you can have goodness enough to pardon what is pastdo not letany cruel future apprehensions shut your mercy againstme. Norepentance was ever more sincere. O! let it reconcile me tomy heavenin this dear bosom."

"Sincere repentanceMr. Jones"answeredshe"will obtain the pardon of a sinnerbut it is fromone who isa perfect judge of that sincerity. A human mind may beimposedon; nor is there any infallible method to prevent it. You mustexpecthoweverthat if I can be prevailed on by your repentance topardonyouI will at least insist on the strongest proof of itssincerity."

"Name any proof in my power" answered Jones eagerly."Time"replied she; "time aloneMr. Jonescan convince me thatyou are atrue penitentand have resolved to abandon these viciouscourseswhich I should detest you forif I imagined you capable ofperseveringin them."

"Do not imagine it" cries Jones. "Onmy knees IintreatIimplore your confidencea confidence which it shall be thebusinessof my life to deserve."

"Let it then" said she"bethebusinessof some part of your life to show me you deserve it. Ithink Ihave been explicit enough in assuring youthatwhen I seeyou meritmy confidenceyou will obtain it. After what is pastsircanyou expect I should take you upon your word?"

  Hereplied"Don't believe me upon my word; I have a bettersecuritya pledge for my constancywhich it is impossible to see andto doubt."

"What is that?" said Sophiaa little surprized. "Iwillshow youmy charming angel" cried Jonesseizing her hand andcarryingher to the glass. "Therebehold it there in that lovelyfigureinthat facethat shapethose eyesthat mind which shinesthroughthese eyes; can the man who shall be in possession of these beinconstant?Impossible! my Sophia; they would fix a Dorimanta LordRochester.You could not doubt itif you could see yourself withany eyesbut your own." Sophia blushed and half smiled; butforcingagain herbrow into a frown

"If I am to judge" said she"ofthefuture bythe pastmy image will no more remain in your heart whenI am outof your sightthan it will in this glass when I am out ofthe room."

"By heavenby all that is sacred!" said Jones"itneverwas out ofmy heart. The delicacy of your sex cannot conceive thegrossnessof oursnor how little one sort of amour has to do with theheart."

"I will never marry a man" replied Sophiavery gravely"whoshall notlearn refinement enough to be as incapable as I am myself ofmakingsuch a distinction."

"I will learn it" said Jones. "Ihavelearnt italready. The first moment of hope that my Sophia might be mywifetaught it me at once; and all the rest of her sex from thatmomentbecame as little the objects of desire to my sense as ofpassion tomy heart."

"Well" says Sophia"the proof ofthis mustbe fromtime. Your situationMr. Jonesis now alteredand Iassure youI have great satisfaction in the alteration. You will nowwant noopportunity of being near meand convincing me that your mindis alteredtoo."

"O! my angel" cries Jones"how shall Ithank thygoodness!And are you so good to own that you have a satisfaction inmyprosperity?-- Believe mebelieve memadamit is you alone havegiven arelish to that prosperitysince I owe to it the dear hope--O! mySophialet it not be a distant one.- I will be all obedience toyourcommands. I will not dare to press anything further than youpermit me.Yet let me intreat you to appoint a short tryal. O! tell mewhen I mayexpect you will be convinced of what is most solemnlytrue."

"When I have gone voluntarily thus farMr. Jones" saidshe"Iexpect not to be pressed. NayI will not."

"O! don't lookunkindlythusmy Sophia" cries he. "I do notI dare not pressyou.-Yet permitme at least once more to beg you would fix the period. Ofconsiderthe impatience of love."-

"A twelvemonthperhaps"saidshe. "O!my Sophia" cries he"you have named an eternity."

"Perhapsit may besomething sooner" says she; "I will not be teazed. If yourpassionfor me be what I would have itI think you may now be easy."

"Easy!Sophiacall not such an exulting happiness as mine by so colda name.--O! transporting thought! am I not assured that the blessedday willcomewhen I shall call you mine; when fears shall be nomore; whenI shall have that dearthat vastthat exquisiteecstaticdelight ofmaking my Sophia happy?"-

"Indeedsir" said she"thatday is inyour own power."-

"O! my dearmy divine angel"cried he"thesewords have made me mad with joy.-- But I mustI will thankthose dearlips which have so sweetly pronounced my bliss." He thencaught herin his armsand kissed her with an ardour he had neverventuredbefore.

  Atthis instant Westernwho had stood some time listeningburstinto theroomandwith his hunting voice and phrasecried out"Toherboyto hergo to her.-- That's itlittle honeysO that'sit! Well!whatis it all over? Hath she appointed the dayboy? Whatshall itbe to-morrow or next day? It shan't be put off a minutelongerthan next dayI am resolved."

"Let me beseech yousir"saysJones"don't let me be the occasion"-

"Beseech minea --"criesWestern. "I thought thou hadst been a lad of higher mettlethan togive way to a parcel of maidenish tricks.-- I tell thee 'tisallflim-flam. Zoodikers! she'd have the wedding to-night with all herheart.Would'st notSophy? Comeconfessand be an honest girl foronce.Whatart dumb? Why dost not speak?"

"Why should I confesssir"says Sophia"since it seems you are so well acquainted withmythoughts?"-

"That's a good girl" cries he"anddost consentthen?"

"Noindeedsir" says Sophia"I have given no suchconsent."-

"And wunt not ha un then to-morrownor next day?" saysWestern.-"Indeedsir" says she"I have no such intention."

"ButIcan tellthee" replied he"why hast nut; only because thou dostloveto bedisobedientand to plague and vex thy father."

"Praysir"saidJonesinterfering-

"I tell thee thou art a puppy" crieshe."WhenI vorbid herthen it was all nothing but sighing and whiningandlanguishing and writing; now I am vor theeshe is against thee.All thespirit of contrarythat's all. She is above being guided andgovernedby her fatherthat is the whole truth on't. It is only todisobligeand contradict me."

"What would my papa have me do?"criesSophia."What would I ha thee do?" says he"whygi' un thyhand thismoment."-

"Wellsir" says Sophia"I will obey you.- There ismyhandMr.Jones."

"Welland will you consent to ha un to-morrowmorning?"says Western.-

"I will be obedient to yousir" criesshe.-

"Why then to-morrow morning be the day" cries he. "Whythento-morrowmorning shall be the daypapasince you will have it so"saysSophia. Jones then fell upon his kneesand kissed her hand in anagony ofjoywhile Western began to caper and dance about the roompresentlycrying out

"Where the devil is Allworthy? He is withoutnowatalking with that d--d lawyer Dowlingwhen he should bemindingother matters." He then sallied out in quest of himand veryopportunelyleft the lovers to enjoy a few tender minutes alone.

  Buthe soon returned with Allworthysaying"If you won't believemeyoumay ask her yourself. Hast nut gin thy consentSophyto bemarriedto-morrow?"

"Such are your commandssir" criesSophia"andI dare not be guilty of disobedience."

"I hopemadam"criesAllworthy"my nephew will merit so much goodnessand will bealways assensible as myself of the great honour you have done myfamily. Analliance with so charming and so excellent a young ladywouldindeed be an honour to the greatest in England."

"Yes"criesWestern"but if I had suffered her to stand shill I shall Idillydallyyoumight not have had that honour yet a while; I was forced touse alittle fatherly authority to bring her to."

"I hope notsir"criesAllworthy"I hope there not the least constraint."

"Whythere"cries Western"you may bid her unsay all again if you will.Dostrepent heartily of thy promisedost notSophia?"

"Indeedpapa"cries she"I do not repentnor do I believe I ever shallof anypromise in favour of Mr. Jones."

"Thennephew" criesAllworthy"I felicitate you most heartily; for I think you are thehappiestof men. Andmadamyou will give me leave to congratulateyou onthis joyful occasion: indeedI am convinced you havebestowedyourself on one who will be sensible of your great meritandwho willat least use his best endeavours to deserve it."

"His bestendeavours!"cries Western"that he willI warrant un.-- HarkeeAllworthyI'll bet thee five pounds to a crown we have a boyto-morrownine months; but prithee tell me what wut ha! Wut haBurgundyChampaigneor what? forplease jupiterwe'll make a nighton't."

"Indeedsir" said Allworthy"you must excuse me;both mynephew andI were engaged before I suspected this near approach of hishappiness."

"Engaged!" quoth the squire"never tell me.- I won'tpart withthee to-night upon any occasion. Shalt sup herepleasethe lordHarry."

"You must pardon memy dear neighbour!"answeredAllworthy;"I have given a solemn promiseand that you know I neverbreak."

"Whypritheewho art engaged to?" cries the squire.--Allworthythen informed himas likewise of the company.-

"Odzookers!"answered the squire"I will go with theeand so shallSophy! forI won't part with thee to-night; and it would be barbarousto partTom and the girl." This offer was presently embraced byAllworthyand Sophia consentedhaving first obtained a privatepromisefrom her father that he would not mention a syllableconcerningher marriage.

Chapterthe Last
In whichthe history is concluded

 Young Nightingale had been that afternoonby appointmentto waiton hisfatherwho received him much more kindly than he expected.Therelikewise he met his unclewho was returned to town in questof hisnew-married daughter.

 This marriage was the luckiest incident which could have happened tothe younggentleman; for these brothers lived in a constant state ofcontentionabout the government of their childrenboth heartilydespisingthe method which each other took. Each of them therefore nowendeavouredas much as he couldto palliate the offence which hisown childhad committedand to aggravate the match of the other. Thisdesire oftriumphing over his brotheradded to the many argumentswhichAllworthy had usedso strongly operated on the old gentlemanthat hemet his son with a smiling countenanceand actually agreed tosup withhim that evening at Mrs. Miller's.

  Asfor the otherwho really loved his daughter with the mostimmoderateaffectionthere was little difficulty in inclining himto areconciliation. He was no sooner informed by his nephew where hisdaughterand her husband werethan he declared he would instantlygo to her.And when he arrived therehe scarce suffered her to fallupon herknees before he took her upand embraced her with atendernesswhich affected all who saw him; and in less than aquarter ofan hour was as well reconciled to both her and herhusband asif he had himself joined their hands.

  Inthis situation were affairs when Mr. Allworthy and his companyarrived tocomplete the happiness of Mrs. Millerwho no sooner sawSophiathan she guessed everything that had happened; and so great washerfriendship to Jonesthat it added not a few transports to thoseshe felton the happiness of her own daughter.

 There have notI believebeen many instances of a number of peoplemettogetherwhere every one was so perfectly happy as in thiscompany.Amongst whom the father of young Nightingale enjoyed theleastperfect content; fornotwithstanding his affection for his sonnotwithstandingthe authority and the arguments of Allworthytogetherwith theother motive mentioned beforehe could not so entirely besatisfiedwith his son's choice; andperhapsthe presence ofSophiaherself tended a little to aggravate and heighten hisconcernas a thought now and then suggested itselfthat his sonmight havehad that ladyor some other such. Not that any of thecharmswhich adorned either the person or mind of Sophia created theuneasiness;it was the contents of her father's coffers which sethis hearta longing. These were the charms which he could not bearto thinkhis son had sacrificed to the daughter of Mrs. Miller.

  Thebrides were both very pretty women; but so totally were theyeclipsedby the beauty of Sophiathathad they not been two of thebest-temperedgirls in the worldit would have raised some envy intheirbreasts; for neither of their husbands could long keep hiseyes fromSophiawho sat at the table like a queen receivinghomageorratherlike a superior being receiving adoration from allaroundher. But it was an adoration which they gavenot which sheexacted;for she was as much distinguished by her modesty andaffabilityas by all her other perfections.

  Theevening was spent in much true mirth. All were happybutthose themost who had been most unhappy before. Their formersufferingsand fears gave such a relish to their felicityas evenlove andfortunein their fullest flowcould not have givenwithoutthe advantage of such a comparison. Yetas great joyespeciallyafter a sudden change and revolution of circumstancesisapt to besilentand dwells rather in the heart than on the tongueJones andSophia appeared the least merry of the whole company;whichWestern observed with great impatienceoften crying out tothem"Whydost not talkboy? Why dost look so grave? Hast lost thytonguegirl? Drink another glass of wine; sha't drink another glass."Andthemore to enliven herhe would sometimes sing a merry songwhich boresome relation to matrimony and the loss of a maidenhead.Nayhewould have proceeded so far on that topic as to have drivenher out ofthe roomif Mr. Allworthy had not checkt himsometimes bylooksandonce or twice by a "Fie! Mr. Western!" He beganindeedonce todebate the matterand assert his right to talk to his owndaughteras he thought fit; butas nobody seconded himhe was soonreduced toorder.

 Notwithstanding this little restrainthe was so pleased with thechearfulnessand good-humour of the companythat he insisted on theirmeetingthe next day at his lodgings. They all did so; and thelovelySophiawho was now in private become a bride tooofficiatedas themistress of the ceremoniesorin the polite phrasedid thehonours ofthe table. She had that morning given her hand to Jonesinthe chapelat Doctors'-Commonswhere Mr. AllworthyMr. Westernand Mrs.Millerwere the only persons present.

 Sophia had earnestly desired her father that no others of thecompanywho were that day to dine with himshould be acquainted withhermarriage. The same secrecy was enjoined to Mrs. MillerandJonesundertook for Allworthy. This somewhat reconciled the delicacyof Sophiato the public entertainment whichin compliance with herfather'swillshe was obliged to go togreatly against her owninclinations.In confidence of this secrecyshe went through theday prettywelltill the squirewho was now advanced into the secondbottlecould contain his joy no longerbutfilling out a bumperdrank ahealth to the bride. The health was immediately pledged by allpresentto the great confusion of our poor blushing Sophiaand thegreatconcern of Jones upon her account. To say truththere was not apersonpresent made wiser by this discovery; for Mrs. Miller hadwhisperedit to her daughterher daughter to her husbandher husbandto hissisterand she to all the rest.

 Sophia now took the first opportunity of withdrawing with theladiesand the squire sat in to his cupsin which he wasbydegreesdeserted by all the companyexcept the uncle of youngNightingalewho loved his bottle as well as Western himself. Thesetwothereforesat stoutly to it during the whole eveningand longafter thathappy hour which had surrendered the charming Sophia to theeager armsof her enraptured Jones.

 Thusreaderwe have at length brought our history to a conclusionin whichto our great pleasurethough contraryperhapsto thyexpectationMr. Jones appears to be the happiest of all humankind;for whathappiness this world affords equal to the possession ofsuch awoman as SophiaI sincerely own I have never yet discovered.

  Asto the other persons who have made any considerable figure inthishistoryas some may desire to know a little more concerningthemwewill proceedin as few words as possibleto satisfy theircuriosity.

 Allworthy hath never yet been prevailed upon to see Blifilbut hehathyielded to the importunity of Jonesbacked by SophiatosettleL200 a-year upon him; to which Jones hath privately added athird.Upon this income he lives in one of the northern countiesabout 200miles distant from Londonand lays up L200 a-year out ofitinorder to purchase a seat in the next parliament from aneighbouringboroughwhich he has bargained for with an attorneythere. Heis also lately turned Methodistin hopes of marrying a veryrich widowof that sectwhose estate lies in that part of thekingdom.

 Square died soon after he writ the before mentioned letter; and astoThwackumhe continues at his vicarage. He hath made many fruitlessattemptsto regain the confidence of Allworthyor to ingratiatehimselfwith Jonesboth of whom he flatters to their facesandabusesbehind their backs. But in his steadMr. Allworthy hath latelytaken Mr.Abraham Adams into his houseof whom Sophia is grownimmoderatelyfondand declares he shall have the tuition of herchildren.

 Mrs. Fitzpatrick is separated from her husbandand retains thelittleremains of her fortune. She lives in reputation at the politeend of thetownand is so good an economistthat she spends threetimes theincome of her fortunewithout running in debt. Shemaintainsa perfect intimacy with the lady of the Irish peer; and inacts offriendship to her repays all the obligations she owes to herhusband.

 Mrs. Western was soon reconciled to her niece Sophiaand hath spenttwo monthstogether with her in the country. Lady Bellaston made thelatter aformal visit at her return to townwhere she behaved toJones asto a perfect strangerandwith great civilitywished himjoy on hismarriage.

  Mr.Nightingale hath purchased an estate for his son in theneighbourhoodof Joneswhere the young gentlemanhis ladyMrs.Millerand her little daughter resideand the most agreeableintercoursesubsists between the two families.

  Asto those of lower accountMrs. Waters returned into the countryhad apension of L60 a-year settled upon her by Mr. Allworthyandis marriedto Parson Suppleon whomat the instance of SophiaWesternhath bestowed a considerable living.

 Black Georgehearing the discovery that had been maderan awayand wasnever since heard of; and Jones bestowed the money on hisfamilybut not in equal proportionsfor Molly had much thegreatestshare.

  Asfor PartridgeJones hath settled L50 a-year on him; and hehath againset up a schoolin which he meets with much betterencouragementthan formerlyand there is now a treaty of marriageon footbetween him and Miss Molly Seagrimwhichthrough themediationof Sophiais likely to take effect.

  Wenow return to take leave of Mr. Jones and Sophiawhowithin twodays aftertheir marriageattended Mr. Western and Mr. Allworthy intothecountry. Western hath resigned his family seatand the greaterpart ofhis estateto his son-in-lawand hath retired to a lesserhouse ofhis in another part of the countrywhich is better forhunting.Indeedhe is often as a visitant with Mr. Joneswhoaswell ashis daughterhath an infinite delight in doing everythingin theirpower to please him. And this desire of theirs is attendedwith suchsuccessthat the old gentleman declares he was neverhappy inhis life till now. He hath here a parlour and ante-chamber tohimselfwhere he gets drunk with whom he pleases: and his daughter isstill asready as formerly to play to him whenever he desires it;for Joneshath assured her thatasnext to pleasing herone ofhishighest satisfactions is to contribute to the happiness of the oldman; sothe great duty which she expresses and performs to herfatherrenders her almost equally dear to him with the love which shebestows onhimself.

 Sophia hath already produced him two fine childrena boy and agirlofwhom the old gentleman is so fondthat he spends much of histime inthe nurserywhere he declares the tattling of his littlegrand-daughterwho is above a year and a half oldis sweeter musicthan thefinest cry of dogs in England.

 Allworthy was likewise greatly liberal to Jones on the marriageandhathomitted no instance of showing his affection to him and his ladywho lovehim as a father. Whatever in the nature of Jones had atendencyto vicehas been corrected by continual conversation withthis goodmanby his union with the lovely and virtuous Sophia. Hehath alsoby reflection on his past folliesacquired a discretionandprudence very uncommon in one of his lively parts.

  Toconcludeas there are not to be found a worthier man andwomanthan this fond coupleso neither can any be imagined morehappy.They preserve the purest and tenderest affection for eachotheranaffection daily encreased and confirmed by mutualendearmentsand mutual esteem. Nor is their conduct towards theirrelationsand friends less amiable than towards one another. Andsuch istheir condescensiontheir indulgenceand their beneficenceto thosebelow themthat there is not a neighboura tenantor aservantwho doth not most gratefully bless the day when Mr. Jones wasmarried tohis Sophia.

NOTES:

*Thingswhich do not appear are to be treated the same as thosewhich donot exist.- COKE