give him a little box, of which he always kept the key himself, and afterwards begged her to leave the room for a few minutes; at which neither she nor Amelia expressed any dissatisfaction.

When he was alone with Amelia, he spoke as follows: This, Madam, is the last time my eyes will ever behold 'what-Do pardon me, Madam, I will never offend you เ more.'-Here he sunk down in his bed, and the tears gushed from his eyes.

Why should you fear to offend me, Joe?' said Amelia. 'I am sure you never did any thing willingly 'to offend me.'

'No, Madam,' answered he, 'I would die a thousand 'times before I would have ventured it in the smallest เ matter. But I cannot speak-and yet I must. You 'cannot pardon me, and yet, perhaps, as I am a dying man, and never shall see you more-Indeed, if I was 'to live after this discovery, I should never dare to look

you in the face again-And yet, Madam, to think I 'shall never see you more is worse than ten thousand 'deaths.'

'Indeed, Mr. Atkinson,' cries Amelia, blushing, and looking down on the floor, 'I must not hear you talk in 'this manner. If you have anything to say, tell it me, and do not be afraid of my anger; for I think I may 'promise to forgive whatever it was possible you should 'do.'

'Here then, Madam,' said he, 'is your picture; I stole 'it when I was eighteen years of age, and have kept it ' ever since. It is set in gold, with three little diamonds; ' and yet I can truly say, it was not the gold nor the 'diamonds which I stole-it was that face; which, if I ' had been the emperor of the world-'

'I must not hear any more of this,' said she,—' comfort yourself, Joe, and think no more of this matter.

Be

assured, I freely and heartily forgive you-But pray compose yourself; come let me call in your wife-'

First, Madam, let me beg one favour,'-cried he, 'consider it is the last, and then I shall die in peace-let เ me kiss that hand before I die.'

Well, nay,' says she, 'I don't know what I am doing ' —well—there.'-She then carelessly gave him her hand, which he put gently to his lips, and then presently let it drop, and fell back in the bed.

Amelia now summoned Mrs. Atkinson, who was indeed, no farther off than just without the door. She then hastened down stairs, and called for a great glass of water, which having drank off, she threw herself into a chair, and the tears ran plentifully from her eyes with compassion for the poor wretch she had just left in his bed.

To say the truth, without any injury to her chastity, that heart which had stood firm as a rock to all the attacks of title and equipage, of finery and flattery, and which all the treasures of the universe could not have purchased, was yet a little softened by the plain, honest, modest, involuntary, delicate, heroic passion of this poor and humble swain; for whom, in spite of herself, she felt a momentary tenderness and complacence, at which Booth, if he had known it, would perhaps have been displeased.

Having staid some time in the parlour, and not finding Mrs. Atkinson come down, (for indeed her husband was then so bad she could not quit him,) Amelia left a message with the maid of the house for her mistress, purporting that she should be ready to do any thing in her power to serve her, and then left the house with a confusion on her mind that she had never felt before, and which any chastity that is not hewn out of marble must feel on so tender and delicate an occasion.

VOL. IX.

U

CHAPTER VII.

In which Mr. Booth meets with more than one adventure.

BOOTH having hunted about for two hours, at last saw a young lady, in a tattered silk gown, stepping out of a shop in Monmouth-street into a hackney-coach. This lady, notwithstanding the disguise of her dress, he presently discovered to be no other than little Betty.

He instantly gave the alarm of stop thief, stop coach! upon which Mrs. Betty was immediately stopped in her vehicle, and Booth and his myrmidons laid hold of her.

The girl no sooner found that she was seized by her master than the consciousness of her guilt overpowered her; for she was not yet an experienced offender, and she immediately confessed her crime.

She was then carried before a justice of peace, where she was searched, and there was found in her possession four shillings and sixpence in money, besides the silk gown, which was indeed proper furniture for rag-fair, and scarce worth a single farthing, though the honest shopkeeper in Monmouth-street had sold it for a crown to this simple girl.

The girl, being examined by the magistrate, spoke as follows: Indeed, Sir, an't please your worship, I am very sorry for what I have done; and to be sure, 'an't please your honour, my lord, it must have been 'the devil that put me upon it; for to be sure, please your majesty, I never thought upon such a thing in เ my whole life before, any more than I did of my เ dying-day; but, indeed, Sir, an't please your worship—'

เ

She was running on in this manner when the justice interrupted her, and desired her to give an account of

what she had taken from her master, and what she had done with it.

'Indeed, an't please your majesty,' said she, 'I took no more than two shifts of Madam's, and I pawned 'them for five shillings, which I gave for the gown 'that's upon my back; and as for the money in my 'pocket, it is every farthing of it my own. I am sure 'I intended to carry back the shifts too as soon as ever 'I could get money to take them out.'

The girl having told them where the pawnbroker lived, the justice sent to him, to produce the shifts, which he presently did; for he expected that a warrant to search his house would be the consequence of his refusal.

The shifts being produced, on which the honest pawnbroker had lent five shillings, appeared plainly to be worth above thirty, indeed, when new they had cost much more. So that by their goodness, as well as by their size, it was certain they could not have belonged to the girl.

'I

Booth grew very warm against the pawnbroker. ' hope, Sir,' said he to the justice, there is some punishment for this fellow likewise, who so plainly appears to have known that these goods were stolen. The shops of these fellows may, indeed, be called the ' fountains of theft; for it is in reality the encouragement 'which they meet with from these receivers of their goods that induces men very often to become thieves, so that these deserve equal if not severer punishment 'than the thieves themselves.'

The pawnbroker protested his innocence; and denied the taking in the shifts. Indeed, in this he spoke truth; for he had slipped into an inner room, as was always his custom on these occasions, and left a little boy to do the business; by which means he had carried on the trade of

receiving stolen goods for many years with impunity, and had been twice acquitted at the Old Bailey, though the juggle appeared upon the most manifest evidence.

เ

As the justice was going to speak, he was interrupted by the girl, who, falling upon her knees to Booth, with many tears, begged his forgiveness.

'Indeed, Betty,' cries Booth, 'you do not deserve for'giveness; for you know very good reasons why you 'should not have thought of robbing your mistress, par'ticularly at this time. And what farther aggravates your crime is, that you have robbed the best and 'kindest mistress in the world. Nay, you are not only guilty of felony, but of a felonious breach of trust; 'for you know very well every thing your mistress had 'was entrusted to your care.'

Now it happened by very great accident that the justice before whom the girl was brought understood the law. Turning therefore to Booth, he said, 'Do you say, 'Sir, that this girl was entrusted with the shifts?'

Yes, Sir,' said Booth, 'she was entrusted with every ' thing.'

'And will you swear that the goods stolen,' said the justice, are worth forty shillings?'

'No, indeed, Sir,' answered Booth, nor that they are worth thirty either.'

'Then, Sir,' cries the justice, 'the girl cannot be 'guilty of felony.'

'How, Sir,' said Booth, 'is it not a breach of trust? and is not a breach of trust felony, and the worst 'felony too?'

เ

'No, Sir,' answered the justice; a breach of trust is 'no crime in our law, unless it be in a servant; and then 'the act of parliament requires the goods taken to be of 'the value of forty shillings.'

'So then a servant,' cries Booth, 'may rob his master