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who attended the light began some to laugh, others to sing, and others to holla, at which the woman testified some fear, (for she had concealed her suspicions of the parson himself;) but Adams said, “Be of ood cheer, damsel, and repose thy trust in the same Providence which hath hitherto protected thee, and never will forsake the innocent.” These people, who now approached, were no other, reader, than a set of young fellows, who came to these bushes in pursuit of a diversion which they call bird-batting. This, if thou art ignorant of it, (as perhaps if thou hast never travelled beyond Kensington, Islington, Hackney, or the Borough, thou mayest be,) I will inform thee, is performed by holding a large clapmet before a lantern, and at the same time beating the bushes; for the birds, when they are disturbed from their places of rest, or roost, immediately make to the light, and so are enticed within the net. Adams immediately told them what had happened, and desired theim to hold the lantern to the face of the man on the ground, for he feared he had smote him fatally. But indeed his fears were frivolous; for the fellow, though he had been stunned by the last blow he received, had long since recovered his senses, and finding himself quit of Adams, had listened attentively to the discourse between him and the young woman; for whose departure he had patiently waited, that he might likewise withdraw himself, having no longer hopes of succeeding in his desires, which were moreover almost as well cooled by Mr. Adams, as they could have been by the young woman i. had he obtained his utmost wish. This fellow, who had a readiness at improving any accident, thought he might now play a better part than that of a dead man; and accordingly, the moment the candle was held to his face he leapt up, and laying hold on Adams, cried out, ‘No, villain, I am not dead, though you and your wicked whore might well think me so, after the barbarous cruelties you have exercised on me. Gentlemen,” said he, “you are luckily come to the assistance of a r traveller, who would otherwise have i. robbed and murdered by this vile man and woman, who led me hither out of my way from the high-road, and both falling on me have used me as you see.” Adams was going to answer, when one of the young fellows cried, ‘D–n them, let's carry them both before the justice.’ The poor woman began to tremble, and Adams listed up his voice, but in vain. Three or four of them laid hands on him; and one holding the lantern to his face, they all agreed he had the most villanous countenance they ever behold; and an attorney's clerk, who was of the company, declared, he was sure he

woman, her hair was dishevelled in the struggle, and her nose had bled ; so that they could not perceive whether she was handsome or ugly, but they said her fright plainly discovered her guilt. And searching her pockets, as they did those of Adams, for money, which the fellow said he had lost, they found in her pocket a purse with some gold in it, which abundantly convinced them, especially as the fellow offered to swear to it. Mr. Adams was found to have no more than one halfpenny about him. This the clerk said “was a great presumption that he was an old offender, by cunningly giving all the booty to the wo– man.’ To which all the rest readily assented. This accident promising them better sport than what they had proposed, they quitted their intention of catching birds, and unanimously resolved to proceed to the justice with the offenders. Being informed what a desperate fellow Adams was, they tied his hands behind him; and having hid their nets among the bushes, and the lantern being carried before them, they placed the two prisoners in their front, and then began

their march: Adams not only submitting

patiently to his own fate, but comforting and encouraging his companion under her susferings. Whilst they were on their way, the clerk informed the rest that this adventure would prove a very beneficial one; for that they would be all entitled to their proportions of 80l. for apprehending the robbers. This occasioned a contemtion concerning the parts which they had severally borne in taking them: one insisting he ought to have the greatest share, for he had first laid his hands on Adams; another claiming a superior part for having first held the Tantern to the man's face on i. ground, by which, he said, ‘the whole was discovered.” The clerk claimed four-fifths of the reward, for having proposed to search the prisoners; and likewise the carrying them before the justice; he said, ‘indeed, in strict justice, he ought to have the whole.’ These claims, however, they at last consented to refer to a future decision, but seemed all to agree that the clerk was entitled to a moiety. They then debated what money should be allotted to the young fellow who had been employed only in holding the nets. He very modestly said, ‘That he did not apprehend any large proportion would fall to his share, but hoped they would allow him something; he desired them to consider, that they had assigned their nets to his care, which prevented him from being as forward as any in laying hold of the robbers,” (for so those in: nocent people were called;) that if he had not occupied the nets, some other must;

ind remembered him at the bar. As to the

concluding however, “that he should be con

tented with the smallest share imaginable, and should think that rather their bount than his merit.' But they were all unanimous in excluding him from any part whatever, the clerk particularly swearing, “If they gave him a shilling, they might do what they pleased with the rest; for he would not concern himself with the affair.’ This contention was so hot, and so totally engaged the attention of all the parties, that a dexterous nimble thief, had he been in Mr. Adams's situation, would have taken care to have given the justice no trouble that evening. Indeed it required not the art of a Shepherd to escape, especially as the darkness of the night would have so much befriended him; but Adams trusted rather to his innocence than his heels, and without thinking of flight, which was easy, or resistance, (which was impossible, as there were six lusty young fellows, besides the villain himself, present,) he walked with perfect resignation the way they thought proper to conduct him. Adams frequently vented himselfin ejaculation during their journey. At last poor Joseph Andrews occurring to his mind, he could not refrain sighing forth his name, which being heard by his companion in asfliction, she cried with some vehemence, ‘Sure I should know that voice; you cannot certainly, sir, be Mr. Abraham Adams ?” —‘Indeed, damsel,’ says he, “that is my name; there is something also in your voice, which persuades me I have heard it before.’ —“La sir,’ says she, “don’t you remember poor Fanny ?”—“How, Fanny!' answered Adams : “indeed, I very well remember you; what can have brought you hither?” —“I have told you, sir, replied she, “I was travelling towards London; but I thought ou mentioned Joseph Andrews; pray what is become of him?”—“I left him, child, this afternoon,’ said Adams, ‘in the stage-coach, in his way towards our parish, whither he is going to see you.”—“To see me! La, sir,’ answered Fanny, ‘sure you jeer me; what should he be going to see me for '-' Can ou ask that?’ replied Adams. “I hope, anny, you are not inconstant; I assure you he deserves much better of you.”—“La r. Adams,’ said she, “what is Mr. Joseph to me? I am sure I never had any thing to say to him, but as one fellow-servant might to another.”—“I am sorry to hear this,” said Adams; “a virtuous passion for a youn man, is what no woman need be ashame of You either do not tell me truth, or you are false to a very worthy man.” Adams then told her what had happened at the inn, to which she listened very attentively; and a sigh often escaped from her, notwithstanding her utmost endeavours to the contrary; nor could she prevent herself from asking a thousand questions, which would have as

sured any one but Adams, who never saw farther into people than they desired to let him, of the truth of a passion she endeavoured to conceal. Indeed, the fact was, that this poor girl having heard of Joseph's misfortune, by some of the servants belonging to the coach, which we have formerly mentioned to have stopt at the inn while the poor youth was confined to his bed, that instant abandoned the cow she was milking, and taking with her a little bundle of clothes under her arm, and all the money she was worth in her own purse, without consulting any one, immediately set forward in pursuit of one, whom, notwithstanding her shyness to the parson, she loved with inexpressible violence, though with the purest and most delicate passion. This shyness, therefore, as we trust it will recommend her character to all our female readers, and not greatly surprise such of our males as are well acquainted with the younger part of the other sex, we shall not give ourselves any trouble to vindicate.

CHAPTER XI

What happened to them while before the justice. .4 chapter very full of learning. Their fellow-travellers were so engaged In the hot dispute, concerning the division of the reward for apprehending these innocent people, that they attended very little to their discourse. They were now arrived at the justice’s house, and had sent one of his servants in to acquaint his worship, that they had taken two robbers, and brought them before him. The justice, who was just returned from a fox-chase, and had not yet finished his dinner, ordered them to carry the prisoners into the stable, whither they were attended by all the servants in the house, and all the people in the neighbourhood, who flocked together to see them, with as much curiosity as if there was something uncommon to be seen, or that a rogue did not look like other people. The justice now being in the height of his mirth and his cups, bethought himself of the prisoners; and telling his company, he believed they should have d sport in their examination, he ordered them into his presence. They had no sooner entered the room, than he began to revile them, saying, ‘That robberies on the highway were now grown so frequent, that people could not sleep safely in their beds, and assured them they both should be made examples of at the ensuing assizes. After he had gone on some time in this manner, he was reminded by his clerk, ‘That it would be proper to take the depositions of the witnesses against them.” Which he bid him do, and he would light his pipe in the mean time. Whilst the

clerk was employed in writing down the deposition of the fellow who had pretended to ... the justice employed himself in cracking jests on poor Fanny, in which he was seconded by all the company at table. One asked, “Whether she was to be indicted for a highwayman o' Another whispered in her ear, “If she had not provided herself a great belly, he was at her service.” A third said, “He warranted she was a relation of Turpin. To which one of the company, a great wit, shaking his head, and then his sides, answered, “He believed she was nearer related to Turpis;’ at which there was an universal laugh. They were proceeding thus with the poor girl, when somebody, smoking the cassock peeping forth from under the great-coat of Adams, cried out, ‘What have we here, a parson f° — How, sirrah,” says the justice, “do you go robbing in the dress of a clergyman let ine tell you, your habit will not entitle you to the benefit of the clergy.”—“Yes,’ said the witty fellow, “he will have one benefit of clergy; he will be exalted above the heads of the people;’ at which there was a second laugh. And now the witty spark, seeing his jokes take, began to rise in spirits; and turning to Adams, challenged him to cap verses, and provoking him by givi

the first blow, he |..." giving

Molle meum levibus cord'est vilebile telis.'

Upon which Adams, with a look full of ineffable contempt, told him, “He deserved scourging for his pronunciation.” The witty fellow answered, “What do you deserve, doctor, for not being able to answer the first time * Why, I'll give one, you blockhead, with an S.

S. licet, ut fulvum spectatur in ignibus haurum.

“What, can'st not with an M neither * thou art a pretty fellow for a parson. Why did'st not steal some of the parson's Latin as well as his gown 2' Another at the table then answered, “If he had, you would have been too hard for him; I remember you at the college, a very devil at this sport; I have seen you catch a fresh man; for nobody that knew you would engage with you.”—“I have forgot those things now,' cried the wit. “I believe I could have done s. well formerly. Let's see, what did end with—an M again—ay—

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“I’ll hold thee a guinea of that,” said the wit, throwing the money on the table. “And I’ll go your halves,’ cries the other. “Dome,” answered Adams; but upon applying to his pocket he was forced to retract, and own he had no money about him; which set them all a laughing, and confirmed the triumph of his adversary, which was not moderate; any more than the approbation he met with from the whole company, who told Adams, he must go a little longer to school, before he attempted to attack that gentleman in Latin. The clerk having finished the depositions, as well of the fellow himself, as of those who apprehended the prisoners, delivered them to the justice, who having sworn the several witnesses, without reading a syllable, ordered his clerk to make the mittimus. Adams then said, “He hoped he should not be condemned unheard.”—“No, no,” cries the justice, ‘you will be asked what you have to say for yourself, when you come on your trial: we are not trying you now; I shall only commit you to jail: if you can prove your innocence at 'size, you will be !. ignoramus, and so no harm done.”—“Is it no punishment, sir, for an innocent man to lie several months in jail?” cries Adams: “I beg you would at least hear me before you sign the mittimus.’— ‘What signifies all you can say?’ says the justice: “is it not here in black and white against you ? I must tell you, you are a very impertinent fellow, to take up so much of my time. So make haste with his mittimus.’ The clerk now acquainted the justice, that among other suspicious things, as a penknife, &c. found in Adams's pocket, they had discovered a book written, as he apprehended, in ciphers; for no one could read a word in it. ‘Ay,’ says the justice, ‘the sellow may be more than a common robber, he may be in a plot against the government—produce the book.’. Upon which the poor manuscript of Æschylus, which Adams had transcribed with his own hand, was brought forth; and the justice, looking at it, shook his head, and, turning to the prisoner, asked the meaning of those ciphers. 'Ciphers” answered Alams; it i. a manuscript of Æschylus.”—“Who? who: said the justice. Adams repeated, ‘Aoschy: lus.”—“That is an outlandish name, cried the clerk. A fictitious name, rather, I believe,” said the justice. One of the company declared it looked very much like Greek; • Greek?" said the justice; ‘why, 'tis all writing.”—“No,' says the other, “I don’t positively say it is so; for it is a verv lon time since I have seen any Greek.’ ‘There's one,’ says he, turning to the parson of the parish, who was present, will tell us imme

"Utsunt Divorum, Mars, Bacchus, Apollo, virorum.'

diately. The parson, taking up the book,

and putting on his spectacles and gravity together, muttered some words to himself, and then pronounced aloud—‘Ay, indeed, it is a Greek manuscript; a very fine piece of antiquity. I make no doubt but it was stolen from the same clergyman from whom the rogue took the cassock.”—“What did the rascal mean by his AFschylus * says the justice. “Pooh!’ answered the doctor, with a contemptuous grin, “do you think that fellow knows any thing of this book? AFschylus' ho, ho! I see now what it is—a manuscript of one of the fathers. I know a nobleman, who would give a great deal of money for such a piece of antiquity. Ay, ay, question and answer. The beginning is the catechism in Greek. Ay, ay, Pollokitoi: What's your name?”—“Ay, what's your name?” says the justice to Adams; who answered, “It is AFschylus, and I will maintain it. — O' it is, says the justice; “make Mr. Aoschylus his mittimus. I will teach you to banter me with a false name.’ One of the company, having looked steadfastly at Adams, asked him, “If he did not know Lady Booby 3’ Upon which, Adams, presently calling him to mind, answered, in a rapture, ‘O, squire! are you there? I believe you will inform his worship I am innocent.”—“I can, indeed, say,” replied the squire, ‘that I am very much surprised to see you in this situation;' and then, addressing himself to the justice, he said, ‘Sir, I assure you Mr. Adams is a clergyman, as he appears, and a gentleman of a very good character. I wish you would inquire .. farther into this affair; for I am convinced of his innocence.”—“Nay,’ says the justice, “if he is a gentleman, and you are sure he is innocent, I don’t desire to commit him, not I: I will commit the woman by herself, and take your bail for the gentleman: look into the book, clerk, and see how it is to take bail—come—and make the mittimus for the woman as fast as you can.”—“Sir,’ cries Adams, ‘ I assure you she is as innocent as myself.”—“Perhaps,’ said the squire, “there may be some mistake: W. let us hear Mr. Adams's relation.”—“With all my heart,” answered the justice; “and give the gentleman a glass, to wet his whistle, before e begins. I know how to behave myself to a gentleman, as well as another. Nobody can say I have committed a gentleman since . I have been in the commission.” Adams then began the narrative, in which, though he was very prolix, he was uninterrupted, unless } several hums and hahs of the justice, and his desire to repeat those parts which seemed to him most material. W. he had finished, the justice, who, on what the squire had said, believed every syllable of his story, on his bare affirmation, notwithstanding the depositions on oath to the

contrary, began to let loose several rogues

and rascals against the witness, whom he ordered to stand forth, but in vain; the said witness, long since finding what turn matters were like to take, had privily withdrawn, without attending the issue. The justice now flew into a violent passion, and was hardly prevailed with not to commit the innocent fellows, who had been im ont as well as himself. He swore, “They had best find out the fellow who was guilty of perjury, and bring him before him within two days, or he would bind them all over to their good behaviour.” They all promised to use their best endeavours to that purpose, and were dismissed. Then the justice insisted that Mr. Adams should sit down and take a glass with him; and the parson of the parish delivered him back the manuscript, without saying a word; nor would Adams, who plainly discerned his ignorance, expose it. As for Fanny, she was, at her own request, recommended to the care of a maid-servant of the house, who helped her to new dress and clean herself. The company in the parlour had not been long seated, before they were alarmed with a horrible uproar from without, where the persons who had apprehended Adams and Fanny had been regaling, according to the custom of the house, with the justice's strong beer. These were all fallen together by the ears, and were cuffing each other without any mercy. The justice himself sallied out, and with the dignity of his presence soon put an end to the fray. On his return into the parlour, he reported, “That the occasion of the quarrel, was no other than a dispute, to whom, if Adams had been convicted, the greater share of the reward for apprehending him had belonged.’ All the company laughed at this, except Adams, who, taking his pipe from his mouth, fetched a deep groan, and said, “He was concerned to see so litigious a temper in men. That he remembered a story something like it in one of the parishes where his cure lay:There was,’ continued he, “a competition between three young fellows for the place of the clerk, which I disposed of, to the best of my abilities, according to merit; that is, I gave it to him who had the happiest knack at setting a psalm. The clerk was no sooner established in his place, than a contention began between the two disappointed candidates concerning their excellence; each contending, on whom, had they two been the only competitors, my election would have fallen. This dispute frequently disturbed the congregation, and introduced a discord into the psalmody, till I was forced to silence them both. But, alas! the litigious spirit could not be stifled; and bei no longer able to vent itself in singing, it now broke forth in fighting. It produced

rmany battles, (for they were very near a match,) and I believe would have ended fatally, had not the death of the clerk given me an opportunity to promote one of them to his place; which presently put an end to the dispute, and entirely reconciled the contending parties.”. Adams, then proceeded to make some philosophical observations on the folly of growing warm in disputes in which neither party is interested. He then applied himself vigorously to smoking; and a long silence ensued, which was at length broke by the justice, who began to sing forth his own praises, and to value himself exceedingly on his nice discernment in the cause which had lately been before him. He was quickly interrupted by Mr. Adams, between jo. and his worship a dispute now arose, whether he ought not, in strictness of law, to have committed him, the said Adams; in which the latter maintained he ought to have been committed, and the justice as vehemently held he ought not. his had most probably produced a quarrel, (for both were very violent and positive in their opinions,) had not Fanny accidentally heard that a young fellow was going from the justice's house to the very inn where the stage-coach in which Joseph was, put up. Upon this news, she immediately sent for the parson out of the parlour. Adams, when he found her resolute to go, (though she would not own the reason, but pretended she could not bear to see the |. of those who had suspected her of such a crime,) was as fully determined to go with her; he accordingly took leave of the justice and company; and so ended a dispute in which the law seemed shamefully to intend to set a magistrate and a divine together by the ears.

CHAPTER XII.

..? tery delightful adrenture, as well to the persons concerned as to the good-natured reader. Anaxis, Fanny, and the guide, set out together about one in the morning, the moon being then just risen. They had not gone above a mile, before a most violent storm of rain obliged them to take shelter in an inn, or rather ale-house; where Adams immediately procured himself a good fire, a toast and ale, and a pipe, and began to smoke with great content, utterly forgetting every thing that had happened. Fanny sat likewise down by the fire; but was much more impatient at the storm. She presently engaged the eyes of the host, his wife, the maid of the house, and the young fellow who was their guide; they all conceived they had never seen anything half so handsome ; and, indeed, reader, if thou art of an amorous hue, I advise thee

to skip over the next paragraph; which, to render our history perfect, we are obliged to set down, humbly hoping that we may escape the fate of Pygmalion; for if it should happen to us, or to thee, to be struck with this picture, we should be perhaps, in as helpless a condition as Narcissus, and might say to ourselves quod petis est mus Or, if the finest features in it should set lady —'s image before our eyes, we should be still in as bad a situation, and might say to our desires, Caelum ipsum petimus stultitia. Fanny was now in the nineteenth year of her age; she was tall and delicately shaped; but not one of those slender young women, who seem rather intended to hang up in the hall of an anatomist than for any other purpose. On the contrary, she was so plump, that she seemed bursting through her tight stays, especially in the part which confined her swelling breasts. Nor did her hips want the assistance of a hoop to extend them. The exact shape of her arms denoted the form of those limbs which she concealed; and though they were a little reddened by her labour, yet if her sleeve slipt above her elbow, or her handkerchief discovered any part of her neck, a whiteness appeared which the finest Italian paint would be unable to reach. Her hair was of a chesnut brown, and nature had been extremely lavish to her of it, which she had cut, and on Sundays used to curl down her neck in the modern fashion. Her forehead was high, her eyebrows arched, and rather full than otherwise. Her eyes black and sparkling; her nose justinclining to the Roman; her lips red and moist, and her under lip, according to the opinion of the ladies, too pouting. Her teeth were white, but not exactly even. The small-pox had left one only mark on her chin, which was so large, it might have been mistaken for a dimple, had not her left cheek produced one so near a neighbour to it, that the former served only for a foil to the latter. Her complexion was fair, a little injured by the sun, but overspread with such a bloom, that the finest ladies would have exchanged all their white for it: add to these, a countenance in which, though she was extremely bashful, a sensibility appeared almost incredible; and a sweetness, whenever she smiled, beyond either imitation or description. To conclude all, she had a natural gentility, superior to the acquisition of art, and which surprised all who beheld her. This lovely creature was sitting by the fire with Adams, when her attention was suddenly engaged by a voice from an inner room, which sung the following song:

Th E SONG.

Say, Chloe, where must the swain stray Who is by thy beauties undone?

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