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power of carrying along with him: nor had his children any other security of being his heirs, than that the law would constitute them such without a will, and that he had not affection enough for any one living to take the trouble of writing one.

To this gentleman came Bellarmine, on the errand I have mentioned. His person, his equipage, his family and his estate seemed to the father to make him an advantageous match for his daughter: he therefore very readily accepted his proposals: but when Bellarmine imagined the principal affair concluded, and began to open the incidental matters of fortune, the old gentleman presently changed his countenance, saying, 'He resolved never to marry his daughter on a Smithfield match; 'that whoever had love for her to take her, would, when 'he died, find her share of his fortune in his coffers; 'but he had seen such examples of undutifulness happen 'from the too early generosity of parents, that he had 'made a vow never to part with a shilling whilst he lived.' He commended the saying of Solomon, He that spareth the rod spoileth the child; but added, 'He might have likewise asserted, That he that spareth the purse, 'saveth the child.' He then ran into a discourse on the extravagance of the youth of the age; whence he launched into a dissertation on horses; and came at length to commend those Bellarmine drove. That fine gentleman, who at another season would have been well enough pleased to dwell a little on that subject, was now very eager to resume the circumstance of fortune. He said, "He had a very high value for the young lady, and would receive her with less than he would any other whatever; but 'that even his love to her made some regard to worldly ' matters necessary; for it would be a most distracting sight for him to see her, when he had the honour to be ⚫ her husband, in less than a coach and six.' The old

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gentleman answered, Four will do, four will do;' and then took a turn from horses to extravagance, and from extravagance to horses, till he came round to the equipage again; whither he was no sooner arrived, than Bellarmine brought him back to the point; but all to no purpose; he made his escape from that subject in a minute; till at last the lover declared, that in the present situation of his affairs, it was impossible for him, though he loved Leonora more than tout le monde, to marry her without any fortune. To which the father answered, he was sorry then his daughter must lose so valuable a match: that if he had an inclination, at present it was not in his power to advance a shilling; that he had had great losses, and been at great expenses on projects; which, though he had great expectation from them, had yet produced him nothing that he did not know what might happen here. after, as on the birth of a son, or such accident; but he would make no promise, nor enter into any article, for he would not break his vow for all the daughters in the world.

In short, ladies, to keep you no longer in suspense, Bellarmine having tried every argument and persuasion which he could invent, and finding them all ineffectual, at length took his leave, but not in order to return to Leonora; he proceeded directly to his own seat, whence, after a few days' stay, he returned to Paris, to the great delight of the French and the honour of the English nation.

But as soon as he arrived at his home, he presently dispatched a messenger with the following epistle to Leonora.

'Adorable and charmante,

'I AM Sorry to have the honour to tell you I am not the 'heureux person destined for your divine arms. Your

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papa hath told me so with a politesse not often seen on this side Paris. You may perhaps guess his manner of refusing me. Ah, mon Dieu! You will certainly believe me, Madam, incapable myself of delivering this triste message, which I intend to try the French air to cure the consequences of. A jamais! Cœur! Ange! Au diable! 'If your papa obliges you to a marriage, I hope we shall see you at Paris; till when, the wind that flows from 'thence will be the warmest dans le monde, for it will 'consist almost entirely of my sighs. Adieu, ma princesse ! 'Ah, l'amour!

'BELLARMINE.'

I shall not attempt, ladies, to describe Leonora's condition, when she received this letter. It is a picture of horror, which I should have as little pleasure in drawing, as you in beholding. She immediately left the place, where she was the subject of conversation and ridicule, and retired to that house I showed you when I began the story; where she hath ever since led a disconsolate life, and deserves, perhaps, pity for her misfortunes, more than our censure for a behaviour to which the artifices of her aunt very probably contributed, and to which very young women are often rendered too liable by that blameable levity in the education of our sex.

'If I was inclined to pity her,' said a young lady in the coach, it would be for the loss of Horatio; for I cannot 'discern any misfortune in her missing such a husband as Bellarmine.'

'Why, I must own,' says Slipslop, 'the gentleman was a little false-hearted; but howsumever, it was hard to 'have two lovers, and get never a husband at all. But pray, Madam, what became of Our-asho ?'

He remains, said the lady, still unmarried, and hath applied himself so strictly to his business, that he hath

raised, I hear, a very considerable fortune. And what is remarkable, they say he never hears the name of Leonora without a sigh, nor hath ever uttered one syllable to charge her with her ill conduct towards him.

CHAPTER VII.

A very short chapter, in which parson Adams went a great way.

THE lady having finished her story, received the thanks of the company; and now Joseph, putting his head out of the coach, cried out, 'Never believe me, if yonder be not our parson Adams walking along without his horse.''On my word, and so he is,' says Slipslop: and as sure เ as two-pence he hath left him behind at the inn.' Indeed, true it is the parson had exhibited a fresh instance of his absence of mind; for he was so pleased with having got Joseph into the coach, that he never once thought of the beast in the stable; and finding his legs as nimble as he desired, he sallied out, brandishing a crabstick, and had kept on before the coach, mending and slackening his pace occasionally; so that he had never been much more or less than a quarter of a mile distant from it.

Mrs. Slipslop desired the coachman to overtake him, which he attempted, but in vain; for the faster he drove, the faster ran the parson, often crying out, Ay, ay, catch me if you can;' till at length the coachman swore he would as soon attempt to drive after a greyhound; and giving the parson two or three hearty curses, he cried, 'Softly, softly, boys,' to his horses, which the civil beasts immediately obeyed.

But we will be more courteous to our reader than he

was to Mrs. Slipslop; and leaving the coach and its company to pursue their journey, we will carry our reader on after parson Adams, who stretched forwards without once looking behind him; till, having left the coach full three miles in his rear, he came to a place, where, by keeping the extremest track to the right, it was just barely possible for a human creature to miss his way. This track however did he keep, as indeed he had a wonderful capacity at these kinds of bare possibilities; and travelling in it about three miles over the plain, he arrived at the summit of a hill, whence, looking a great way backwards, and perceiving no coach in sight, he sat himself down on the turf, and pulling out his Eschylus, determined to wait here for its arrival.

He had not sat long here, before a gun going off very near a little startled him; he looked up, and saw a gentleman within a hundred paces taking up a partridge, which he had just shot.

Adams stood up and presented a figure to the gentleman which would have moved laughter in many; for his cassock had just again fallen down below his great-coat; that is to say, it reached his knees, whereas the skirts of his great-coat descended no lower than half way down his thighs; but the gentleman's mirth gave way to his surprise at beholding such a personage in such a place.

Adams, advancing to the gentleman, told him he hoped he had good sport; to which the other answered, 'Very little.' I see, Sir,' says Adams, 'you have smote one partridge;' to which the sportsman made no reply, but proceeded to charge his piece.

Whilst the gun was charging, Adams remained in silence, which he at last broke by observing, that it was a delightful evening. The gentleman, who had at first sight conceived a very distasteful opinion of the parson, began, on perceiving a book in his hand, and

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