whether Socrates himself could have pre-ing your fondness for him?" She returned, vailed any better.

They remained some time in silence; and groans and sighs issued from them both; at length Joseph burst out into the following soliloquy :

Yes, I will bear my sorrows like a man,
But I must also feel them as a man.
I cannot but remember such things were,
And were most dear to me.

that she did not understand him, that the man had been her fellow-servant, and she believed was as honest a creature as any alive; but as for fondness for men-' I warrant ye,' cries the captain, we shall find means to persuade you to be fond; and I advise you to yield to gentle ones, for you may be assured that it is not in your power, by any struggles whatever, to preserve your Adams asked him what stuff that was he virginity two hours longer. It will be your repeated? To which he answered, they interest to consent; for the squire will be were some lines he had gotten by heart out much kinder to you, if he enjoys you wilof a play. Ay, there is nothing but hea- lingly than by force.-At which words she thenism to be learned from plays,' replied began to call aloud for assistance, (for it he. 'I never heard of any plays fit for a was now open day,) but finding none, she Christian to read, but Cato and the Con- lifted her eyes to heaven, and supplicated scious Lovers; and I must own, in the latter the divine assistance to preserve her innothere are some things almost solemn enough cence. The captain told her, if she persistfor a sermon.' But we shall now leave themed in her vociferation, he would find a means a little, and inquire after the subject of their conversation.

NEITHER the facetious dialogue which passed between the poet and the player, nor the grave and truly solemn discourse of Mr. Adams, will, we conceive, make the reader sufficient amends for the anxiety which he must have felt on the account of poor Fanny, whom we left in so deplorable a condition. We shall therefore now proceed to the relation of what happened to that beautiful and innocent virgin, after she fell into the wicked hands of the captain.

of stopping her mouth. And now the poor wretch perceiving no hopes of succour, abandoned herself to despair, and sighing out the name of Joseph! Joseph! a river of tears ran down her lovely cheeks, and wet the handkerchief which covered her bosom. A horseman now appeared in the road, upon which the captain threatened her violently if she complained; however, the moment they approached each other, she begged him with the utmost earnestness, to relieve a distressed creature who was in the hands of a ravisher. The fellow stopped at those words; but the captain assured him it was his wife, and that he was carrying her home from her adulterer: which so satisfied the fellow, who was an old one, (and perhaps a married one too,) that he wished him a good journey, and rode on.

He was no sooner passed, than the captain abused her violently for breaking his commands, and threatened to gag her, when two more horsemen, armed with pistols, came into the road just before them. She again solicited their assistance, and the captain told the same story as before. Upon which one said to the other, 'That's a charming wench, Jack; I wish I had been in the fellow's place, whoever he is.' But the other instead of answering him, cried out, Zounds, I know her;' and then turning to her, said 'sure you are not Fanny Goodwill?'-'Indeed, indeed I am,' she cried—

The man of war having conveyed his charming prize out of the inn a little before day, made the utmost expedition in his power towards the squire's house, where this delicate creature was to be offered up a sacrifice to the lust of a ravisher. He was not only deaf to all her bewailings and entreaties on the road, but accosted her ears with impurities, which, having been never before accustomed to them, she happily for herself very little understood. At last he changed this note, and attempted to soothe and mollify her, by setting forth the splendour and luxury which would be her fortune with a man who would have the incli-'O John! I know you now- -Heaven hath nation, and power too, to give her whatever her utmost wishes could desire; and told her, he doubted not but she would soon look kinder on him, as the instrument of her happiness, and despise that pitiful fellow, whom her ignorance only could make her fond of. She answered, she knew not whom he meant; she never was fond of any pitiful fellow. Are you affronted, madam,' says he, at my calling him so? But what better can be said of one in a livery notwithstand

sent you to my assistance, to deliver me from this wicked man, who is carrying me away for his vile purposes-O, for God's sake rescue me from him!' A fierce dialogue immediately ensued between the captain and these two men, who being both armed with pistols, and the chariot which they attended being now arrived, the captain saw both force and stratagem were vain, and endeavoured to make his escape; in which however he could not succeed. The ren

tleman who rode in the chariot, ordered it of a blacker hue which distilled from the

to stop, and with an air of authority examined into the merits of the cause; of which being advertised by Fanny, whose credit was confirmed by the fellow who knew her, he ordered the captain, who was all bloody, from his encounter at the inn, to be conveyed as a prisoner behind the chariot, and very gallantly took Fanny into it; for, to say the - truth, this gentleman, (who was no other than the celebrated Mr. Peter Pounce, and who preceded the Lady Booby only a few miles, by setting out earlier in the morning,) was a very gallant person, and loved a pretty girl better than any thing, besides his own money or the money of other people.

The chariot now proceeded towards the inn, which as Fanny was informed, lay in their way, and where it arrived at that very time while the poet and player were disputing below stairs, and Adams and Joseph were discoursing back to back above: just at that period to which we brought them both in the two preceding chapters, the chariot stopt at the door, and in an instant Fanny, leaping from it, ran up to her Joseph.-O reader! conceive if thou canst the joy which fired the breasts of these lovers on this meeting; and if thy own heart doth not sympathetically assist thee in this conception, I pity thee sincerely from my own; for let the hard-hearted villain know this, that there is a pleasure in a tender sensation beyond any thing which he is capable of tasting.

Peter being informed by Fanny of the presence of Adams, stopt to see him, and receive his homage; for, as Peter was an hypocrite, a sort of people whom Mr. Adams never saw through, the one paid that respect to his seeming goodness, which the other believed to be paid to his riches; hence Mr. Adams was so much his favourite, that he once lent him four pounds thirteen shillings and sixpence, to prevent his going to jail, on no greater security than a bond and judgment, which probably he would have made no use of, though the money had not been, (as it was,) paid exactly at the time.

mop.-This figure, which Fanny had delivered from his captivity, was no sooner spied by Peter, than it disordered the composed gravity of his muscles; however, he advised him immediately to make himself clean, nor would accept his homage in that pickle.

The poet and player no sooner saw the captain in captivity, than they began to consider of their own safety, of which flight presented itself as the only means; they therefore both of them mounted the poet's horse, and made the most expeditious retreat in their power.

The host, who well knew Mr. Pounce, and Lady Booby's livery, was not a little surprised at this change of the scene: nor was this confusion much helped by his wife, who was now just risen, and having heard from him the account of what had passed, comforted him with a decent number of fools and blockheads; asked him why he did not consult her; and told him he would never leave following the nonsensical dictates of his own numskull, till she and her family were ruined.

Joseph being informed of the captain's arrival, and seeing his Fanny now in safety, quitted her a moment, and, running down stairs, went directly to him, and, stripping off his coat, challenged him to fight; but the captain refused, saying, he did not understand boxing. He then grasped a cudgel in one hand, and catching the captain by the collar with the other, gave him a most severe drubbing, and ended with telling him, he had now some revenge for what his dear Fanny had suffered.

When Mr. Pounce had a little regaled himself with some provision which he had in his chariot, and Mr. Adams had put on his best appearance his clothes would allow him, Pounce ordered the captain into his presence; for he said he was guilty of felony, and the next justice of peace should commit him; but the servants, (whose appetite for revenge is soon satisfied,) being sufficiently contented with the drubbing which Joseph had inflicted on him, and which was indeed of no very moderate kind, had suffered him to go off, which he did, threatening a severe revenge against Joseph, which I have never heard he thought proper to take.

It is not perhaps easy to describe the figure of Adams: he had risen in such a hurry, that he had on neither breeches, garters, nor stockings; nor had he taken from his head a red spotted handkerchief, which by night bound his wig, turned in- The mistress of the house made her voside out, around his head. He had on his luntary appearance before Mr. Pounce, and torn cassock, and his great-coat; but as with a thousand courtesies told him, 'She the remainder of his cassock hung down hoped his honour would pardon her husbelow his great coat; so did a small stripe band, who was a very nonsense man, for of white, or rather whitish, linen appear be- the sake of his poor family; that indeed, if low that; to which we may add the seve- he could be ruined alone, she should be very ral colours which appeared on his face, willing of it; for because as why, his worwhere a long piss-burnt beard served to re-ship very well knew he deserved it: but tain the liquor of the stone-pot, and that she had three poor small children, who

Do not,

were not capable to get their own living; | sirous to swallow it themselves. and if her husband was sent to jail, they therefore, conclude hence, that this dispute must all come to the parish; for she was a would have come to a speedy decision: for poor weak woman, continually a-breeding, here both parties were heartily in earnest, and had no time to work for them. She and it is very probable they would have therefore hoped his honour would take it remained in the inn-yard to this day, had into his worship's consideration, and for- not the good Peter Pounce put a stop to it; give her husband this time; for she was for finding he had no longer hopes of satissure he never intended any harm to man, fying his old appetite with Fanny, and being woman, or child; and if it was not for that desirous of having some one to whom he blockhead of his own, the man in some might communicate his grandeur, he told things was well enough; for she had had the parson he would convey him home in three children by him in less than three his chariot. This favour was, by Adams, years, and was almost ready to cry out the with many bows and acknowledgments, acfourth time.' She would have proceeded in cepted; though he afterwards said, 'he this manner much longer, had not Peter ascended the chariot, rather that he might stopped her tongue, by telling her he had not offend, than from any desire of riding in nothing to say to her husband, nor her it; for that in his heart he preferred the neither. So as Adams and the rest had pedestrian even to the vehicular expedition.' assured her of forgiveness, she cried and All matters being now settled, the chariot, courtesied out of the room. in which rode Adams and Pounce, moved Mr. Pounce was desirous that Fanny forwards; and Joseph, having borrowed a should continue her journey with him in the pillion from the host, Fanny had just seated chariot; but she absolutely refused, saying herself thereon, and had laid hold of the she would ride behind Joseph, on a horse girdle which her lover wore for that purwhich one of Lady Booby's servants had pose, when the wise beast, who concluded equipped him with. But, alas! when the that one at a time was sufficient, that two horse appeared, it was found to be no other to one were odds, &c. discovered much unthan that identical beast which Mr. Adams easiness at his double load, and began to had left behind him at the inn, and which consider his hinder as his fore legs, moving these honest fellows, who knew him, had the direct contrary way to that which is redeemed. Indeed, whatever horse they called forwards. Nor could Joseph, with had provided for Joseph, they would have pre- all his horsemanship, persuade him to advailed with him to mount none, no, not even vance; but, without having any regard to to ride before his beloved Fanny, till the the lovely part of the lovely girl which was parson was supplied; much less would he on his back, he used such agitations, that, deprive his friend of the beast which be- had not one of the men come immediately longed to him, and which he knew the mo- to her assistance, she had, in plain English, ment he saw, though Adams did not; how-tumbled backwards on the ground. This ever, when he was reminded of the affair, and told that they had brought the horse with them which he left behind, he answered-Bless me! and so I did.'

Adams was very desirous that Joseph and Fanny should mount this horse, and declared he could very easily walk home. If I walked alone,' says he, I would wage a shilling, that the pedestrian outstripped the equestrian travellers; but as I intend to take the company of a pipe, peradventure I may be an hour later.' One of the servants whispered Joseph to take him at his word, and suffer the old put to walk, if he would: this proposal was answered with an angry look and a peremptory refusal by Joseph, who, catching Fanny up in his arms, averred he would rather carry her home in that manner, than to take away Mr. Adams's horse, and permit him to walk on foot.

Perhaps, reader, thou hast seen a contest between two gentlemen, or two ladies, quickly decided, though they have both asserted they would not eat such a nice morsel, and each insisted on the other's accepting it; but, in reality, both were very de

inconvenience was presently remedied by an exchange of horses; and then Fanny being again placed on her pillion, on a betternatured and somewhat a better-fed beast, the parson's horse, finding he had no longer odds to contend with, agreed to march; and the whole procession set forwards for Boobyhall, where they arrived in a few hours, without any thing remarkable happening on the road, unless it was a curious dialogue between the parson and the steward; which, to use the language of a late Apologist, a pattern to all biographers, "waits for the reader in the next chapter."

CHAPTER XIII.

A curious dialogue which passed between_Mr.
Abraham Adams and Mr. Peter Pounce, better
worth reading than all the works of Colley
Cibber, and many others.

THE chariot had not proceeded far, before Mr. Adams observed it was a very fine day. Ay, and a very fine country too, answered Pounce. 'I should think so more,' returned Adams if I had not lately tra

above water, it is all I can. I have injured myself by purchasing. I have been too liberal of my money. Indeed, I fear my heir will find my affairs in a worse situation than they are reputed to be. Ah! he will have reason to wish I had loved money more, and land less. Pray, my good neighbour, where should I have that quantity of riches, the world is so liberal to bestow on me? Where could I possibly, without I had stole it, acquire such a treasure? Why truly,' says Adams, 'I have been always of your opinion; I have wondered as well as yourself with what confidence they could report such things of you, which have to me appeared as mere impossibilities; for you know, sir, and I have often heard you say it, that your wealth is of your own acquisition; and can it be credible that in your short time you should have amassed such a heap of treasure as these people will have you worth? Indeed, had you inherited an estate like Sir Thomas Booby, which had descended in your family for many generations, they might have had a colour for their assertions.'

velled over the Downs, which I take to ex- you are all mistaken; I am not the man the ceed this and all other prospects in the uni-world esteems me. If I can hold my head verse. A fig for prospects,' answered Pounce; one acre here is worth ten there; and for my own part, I have no delight in the prospect of any land but my own.'Sir,' said Adams, you can indulge yourself with many fine prospects of that kind.' -I thank God, I have a little,' replied the other, with which I am content, and envy no man: I have a little, Mr. Adams, with which I do as much good as I can.' Adams answered, That riches without charity were nothing worth; for that they were a blessing only to him who made them a blessing to others. You and I,' said Peter, 'have different notions of charity. I own, as it is generally used, I do not like the word, nor do I think it becomes one of us gentlemen; it is a mean parson-like quality; though I would not infer many parsons have it neither. Sir,' said Adams, my definition of charity is, a generous disposition to relieve the distressed.'-There is something in that definition,' answered Peter,' which I like well enough; it is, as you say, a disposition, and does not so much consist in the act as in the disposition to do it; but alas! Mr. Adams, who are meant by the 'Why, what do they say I am worth?' distressed? Believe me, the distresses of cries Peter with a malicious sneer. 'Sir,' mankind are mostly imaginary, and it would answered Adams, 'I have heard some aver be rather folly than goodness to relieve them.' you are not worth less than twenty thou-Sure, sir,' replied Adams, hunger and sand pounds.' At which Peter frowned. thirst, cold and nakedness, and other dis-Nay, sir,' said Adams, 'you ask me only tresses which attend the poor, can never be the opinion of others; for my own part I said to be imaginary evils. How can any have always denied it, nor did I ever beman complain of hunger,' said Peter, in a lieve you could possibly be worth half that country where such excellent sallads are to sum. However, Mr. Adams,' said he, be gathered in almost every field? or of squeezing him by the hand, 'I would not sell thirst, where every river and stream pro- them all I am worth for double that sum; duces such delicious potations? And as for and as to what you believe, or they believe, cold and nakedness, they are evils intro- I care not a fig, no, not a fart. I am not duced by luxury and custom. A man na-poor because you think me so, nor because turally wants clothes no more than a horse you attempt to undervalue me in the counor any other animal; and there are whole try. I know the envy of mankind very nations who go without them; but these are well; but I thank heaven I am above them. things perhaps which you, who do not It is true, my wealth is of my own acquiknow the world' You will pardon me, sition. I have not an estate like Sir Thomas sir,' returned Adams, 'I have read of the Booby, that has descended in my family Gymnosophists. A plague of your Jeho- through many generations; but I know saphats,' cried Peter: the greatest fault in heirs of such estates who are forced to our constitution is the provision made for travel about the country like some people the poor, except that perhaps made for some in torn cassocks, and might be glad to accept others. Sir, I have not an estate which of a pitiful curacy for what I know. Yes, doth not contribute almost as much again to sir, as shabby fellows as yourself, whom no the poor as to the land-tax; and I do assure man of my figure, without that vice of you I expect to come myself to the parish good-nature about him, would suffer to ride in the end.' To which Adams giving a dis-in a chariot with him.'—'Sir,' said Adams, senting smile, Peter thus proceeded: II value not your chariot of a rush; and if fancy, Mr. Adams, you are one of those I had known you had intended to affront who imagine I am a lump of money; for there are many who, I fancy, believe that not only my pockets, but my whole clothes, are lined with bank-bills; but I assure you,

me, I would have walked to the world's end on foot, ere I would have accepted a place in it. However, sir, I will soon rid you of that inconvenience, and so saying,

he opened the chariot-door, without calling to the coachman, and leaped out into the highway, forgetting to take his hat along with him; which, however Mr. Pounce

threw after him with great violence. Joseph and Fanny stopt to bear him company the rest of the way, which was not above a mile.

CHAPTER I.

BOOK IV.

to view scenes of greater splendour, but infinitely less bliss.

Our more intelligent readers will doubtless suspect by this second appearance of Lady Booby on the stage, that all was not

be honest with them, they are in the right; the arrow had pierced deeper than she ima gined; nor was the wound so easily to be cured. The removal of the object soon cooled her rage, but it had a different effect on her love; that departed with his person, but this remained lurking in her mind with his image. Restless interrupted slumbers, and confused horrible dreams, were her portion the first night. In the morning, fancy painted her a more delicious scene: but to delude, not delight her; for before she could reach the promised happiness, it vanished, and left her to curse, not bless, the vision.

The arrival of Lady Booby and the rest at Booby-hall. THE Coach and six, in which Lady Booby rode, overtook the other travellers as they entered the parish. She no sooner saw Jo-ended by the dismission of Joseph; and to seph, than her cheeks glowed with red, and immediately after became as totally pale. She had in her surprise almost stopped her coach; but recollected herself timely enough to prevent it. She entered the parish amidst the ringing of bells, and the acclamations of the poor, who were rejoiced to see their patroness returned after so long an absence, during which time all her rents had been drafted to London, without a shilling being spent among them, which tended not a little to their utter impoverishing; for if the court would be severely missed in such a city as London, how much more must the absence of a person of great fortune be felt in a little country village, for whose inhabitants such a family finds constant employment and supply; and with the offals of whose table the infirm, aged, and infant poor are abundantly fed, with a generosity which hath scarce a visible effect on their benefactors' pockets?

But if their interest inspired so public a joy into every countenance, how much more forcibly did the affection which they bore Parson Adams operate upon all who beheld his return! They flocked about him like dutiful children round an indulgent parent, and vied with each other in demonstrations of duty and love. The parson on his side shook every one by the hand, inquired heartily after the healths of all that were absent, of their children and relations; and expressed a satisfaction in his face, which nothing but benevolence made happy by its objects could infuse.

Nor did Joseph and Fanny want a hearty welcome from all who saw them. In short, no three persons could be more kindly received, as, indeed, none ever more deserved to be universally beloved.

Adams carried his fellow-travellers home to his house, where he insisted on their partaking whatever his wife, whom, with his children, he found in health and joy, could provide :--where we shall leave them, enjoying perfect happiness over a homely meal,

She started from her sleep, her imagination being all on fire with the phantom, when her eyes aecidentally glancing towards the spot where yesterday the real Joseph had stood, that little circumstance raised his idea in the liveliest colours in her memory. Each look, each word, each gesture rushed back on her mind with charms which all his coldness could not abate. Nay, she imputed that to his youth, his folly, his awe, his religion, to every thing, but what would instantly have produced contempt, want of passion for the sex; or that which would have roused her hatred, want of liking to her.

Reflection then hurried her farther, and told her, she must see this beautiful youth no more; nay, suggested to her, that she herself had dismissed him for no other fault than probably that of too violent an awe and respect for herself; and which she ought rather to have esteemed a murit, the effects of which were besides so easily and surely to have been removed; she then blamed, she cursed the hasty rashness of her temper; her fury was vented all on herself, and Joseph appeared innocent in her eyes. Her passion at length grew so violent, that it forced her on seeking relief, and now she thought of recalling him; but pride forbad that; pride, which soon drove all softer passions from her soul, and represented to her the meanness of him she was fond of. That thought soon began to obscure his beauties;

P