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another; nor some title-page authors, who promise a great deal, and produce nothing at all.
There are, besides- these more obvious benefits, several others which our readers enjoy from this art of dividing; though" perhaps most of them too mysterious to be presently understood by any who are not initiated into the science of authoring. To mention therefore but one which is most obvious, it prevents spoiling the beauty of a hook by turning down its leaves, a method otherwise necessary to those readers, who (though they read with great improvement and advantage) are apt, when they return to their study, after half an hour's absence, to forget where they left off.
These divisions have the sanction of great antiquity. Homer not only divided his great work into twenty-four books (in compliment perhaps to the twenty-four letters to which he had very particular obligations), but, according to the opinion of some very sagacious critics, hawked them all separately, delivering only one book at a time (probably by subscription). He was the first inventor of the art which hath so long lain dormant, of publishing by numbers; an art now brought to such perfection, that even dictionaries are divided and exhibited piecemeal to the public; nay one bookseller hath (to encourage learning and ease the public) contrived to give them a dictionary in this divided manner, for only fifteen shillings more than it would have cost entire.
Virgil hath given us his poem in twelve books, an argument of his modesty; for by that, doubtless, he would insinuate that he pretends to no more than half the merit of the Greek; for the same reason, our Milton went originally no farther than ten; till being puffed up by the praise of his friends, he put himself on the same footing with the Roman poet.
I shall not, however, enter so deep into this matter as some very learned critics have done; who have with infinite labour and acute discernment, discovered whal books are proper for embellishment, and what require simplicity only, particularly with regard to similes, whicl I think are now generally agreed to become any booi but the first.
I will dismiss this chapter with the following observation: that it becomes an author generally to divide a book, as it does a butcher to joint his meat, for such assistance is of great help to both the reader and the carver. And now, having indulged myself a little, I will endeavour to indulge the curiosity of my reader, who is no doubt impatient to know what he will find in the subsequent chapters of this book.
A surprising instance of Mr. Adams''s short memory, with the unfortunate consequences which it brought on Joseph.
Mr. Adams and Joseph were now ready to depart different ways, when an accident determined the former to return with his friend, which Tow-wouse, Barnabas, and the bookseller had not been able to do. Tins accident was, that those sermons, which the parson was travelling to London to publish, were, O my good reader! left behind; what he had mistaken for them in the saddlebags being no other than three shirts, a pair of shoes, and some other necessaries, which Mrs. Adams, who thought her husband would want shirts more than sermons on his journey, had carefully provided him.
This discovery was now luckily owing to the presence of Joseph at the opening the saddlebags; who having heard his friend say he carried with him nine volumes of sermons, and not being of that sect of philosophers who can reduce all the matter of the world into a nutshell, seeing there was no room for them in the bags, where the parson had said they were deposited, had the curiosity to cry out, 'Bless me, Sir, where are your sermons?' The parson answered, 'There, there, child; there they are, - under my shirts.' Now it happened that he had taken torth his last shirt, and the vehicle remained visibly empty. 'Sure, Sir,' says Joseph, 'there is nothing in the bags.' Upon which Adams, starting, and testifying some surprise, cried, 'Hey! fie, fie upon it! they are not here 'sure enough. Ay, they are certainly left behind.'
Joseph was greatly concerned at the uneasiness which he apprehended his friend must feel from this disappointment; he begged him to pursue his journey, and promised he would himself return with the books to him with the utmost expedition. 'No, thank you, child,' answered Adams; 'it shall not be so. What would it 'avail me, to tarry in the great city, unless I had my discourses with me, which are ut ita dicam, the sole cause, the aitia monotate of my peregrination. No, child, as 'this accident hath happened, I am resolved to return 'back to my cure, together with you; which indeed my 'inclination sufficiently leads me to. This disappoint1 ment may perhaps be intended for my good.' He concluded with a verse out of Theocritus, which signifies no more than, That sometimes it rains, and sometimes Ae sun shines.
Joseph bowed with obedience and thankfulness for the inclination which the parson expressed of returning with uim; and now the bill was called for, which, on examination, amounted within a shilling to the sum Mr. Adams had in his pocket. Perhaps the reader may wonder how he was able to produce a sufficient sum for so many days: that he may not be surprised, therefore, it cannot be unnecessary to acquaint him that he had borrowed a guinea of a servant belonging" to the coach and six, wk had been formerly one of his parishioners, and whose master, the owner of the coach, then lived within three miles of him; for so good was the credit of Mr. Adams that even Mr. Peter, the Lady Booby's steward, would have lent him a guinea with very little security.
Mr. Adams discharged the bill, and they were both setting out, having agreed to ride and tie; a method ot travelling much used by persons who have but one horse between them, and is thus performed. The two travellers set out together, one on horseback, the other on foot: now, as it generally happens that he on horseback outgoes him on foot, the custom is, that when he arrives at the distance agreed on, he is to dismount, tie the horse to some gate, tree, post, or other thing, and then proceed on foot; when the other comes up to the horse, he unties him, mounts, and gallops on, till having passed by his fellow-traveller, he likewise arrives at the place of tying. And this is that method of travelling so much in use among our prudent ancestors, who knew that horses had mouths as well as legs, and that they could not use the latter, without being at the expense of suffering the beasts themselves to use the former. This was the method in use in those days, when, instead of a coach and six, a member of parliament's lady used to mount a pillion behind her husband; and a grave serjeant at law condescended to amble to Westminster on an easy pad, with his clerk kicking his heels behind him.
Adams was now gone some minutes, having insisted on Joseph's beginning the journey on horseback, and Joseph had his foot in the stirrup, when the hostler presented him a bill for the horse's board during his residence at the inn. Joseph said Mr. Adams had paid all; but this matter being referred to Mr. TW-wouse, was by him decided in favour of the hostler, and indeed with truth and justice; for this was a fresh instance of that shortness of memory which did not arise from want of parts, but that continual hurry in which parson Adams was always involved.
Joseph was now reduced to a dilemma which extremely puzzled him. The sum due for horse-meat was twelve shillings (for Adams, who had borrowed the beast of his clerk, had ordered him to be fed as well as they could feed him), and the cash in his pocket amounted to sixpence (for Adams had divided the last shilling with him). Now, though there have been some ingenious persons who have contrived to pay twelve shillings with sixpence, Joseph was not one of them. He had never contracted a debt in his life, and was consequently the less ready at an expedient to extricate himself. Tow-wouse was willing to give him credit till next time, to which Mrs. Tow-wouse would probably have consented (for such was Joseph's beauty, that it had made some impression even on that piece of flint which that good woman wore in her bosom by way of heart). Joseph would have found therefore, very likely, the passage free, had he not, when he honestly discovered the nakedness of his pockets, pulled out that little piece of gold which we have mentioned before. This caused Mrs. Tow-wouse's eyes to water; she told Joseph, she did not conceive a man could want money whilst he had gold in his pocket. Joseph answered, he had such a value for that little piece of gold, that he would not part with it for a hundred times the riches which the greatest esquire in the county was worth. 'A pretty way, indeed,' said Mrs. Tow-wouse, 'to run in debt, and then refuse to part with your money, 'because you have a value for it. I never knew any
'piece of gold of more value than as many shillings as it