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Suppose when a tradesman first carries in his bill, the man of fashion should pay it; or suppose, if he did so, the tradesman should abate what he had overcharged, on the supposition of waiting. In short, suppose what you will, you never can nor will suppose any thing equal to the astonishment which seized on Trulliber, as soon as Adams had ended his speech. A while he rolled his eyes in silence; sometimes surveying Adams, then his wife; then casting them on the ground, then lifting them up to heaven. At last he burst forth in the following accents: “Sir, I believe I know where to lay up my little treasure as well as another. ''. G—, if I am not so warm as some, I am content; that is a blessing

ater than riches; and he to whom that is given, need ask no more. To be content with a little, is greater than to possess the world; which a man may possess without being so. Lay up my treasure! what matters it where a man's treasure is, whose heart

is in the scriptures? there is the treasure of

a Christian.” At these words the water ran from Adams's eyes; and catching Trulliber by the hand in a rapture, ‘Brother,’ says he, “heavens bless the accident by which I came to see you ! I would have walked many a mile to have communed with you ; and, believe me, I will shortly pay you a second visit; but my friends, I fancy, by this time wonder at my stay , so let me have the money immediately.’ Trulliber then put on a stern look, and cried out, ‘Thou dost not intend to rob me?” At which the wife, bursting into tears, fell on her knees, and roared out, ‘O dear, Sir for heaven's sake don't rob my master: we are but poor people.”—“Get up for a fool, as thou art, and go about thy business,’ said Trulliber: ‘dost think the man will venture his life : he is a beggar and no robber.”—“Very true, indeed,” answered Adams. “I wish, with all my heart, the tithing-man was here,' cries Trulliber: ‘I would have thee punished as a vagabond for thy impudence. Fourteen shillings, indeed! I won’t give thee a farthing. I believe thou art no more a clergyman than the woman there, (pointing to his wife:) but if thou art, dost deserve to have thy gown stript over thy shoulders, for running about the country in such a manner.” – I sorgive your suspicions,’ says Adams; “but suppose I am not a clergyman, I am nevertheless thy brother; and thou, as a Christian, much more as a clergyman, art obliged to relieve mv distress.”—“ Dost preach to me?’ replied Trulliber: ‘dost pretend to instruct me in my duty o- Isacks, a good story,’ cries Mrs. Trulliber, to preach to my master.”—“Silence, woman,” cries Trulliber, ‘I would have thee know, friend,” (addressing himself to Adams,) “I shall not learn my duty from such as thee.

I know what charity is, better than to give to vagabonds.”—“Besides, if we were inclined, the poor's rate obliges us to give so much charity, cries the wife. ‘Pugh thou art a fool. Poor's rate! Hold thy nonsense,” answered Trulliber; and then turning to Adams, he told him, ‘He would give him nothing.”—“I am sorry,” answered Adams, ‘ that you do know what charity is, since you practise it no better: I must tell you, if you trust to your knowledge for your justification, you will find yourself deceived, though you should add faith to it, without good works.’— Fellow, cries Trulliber, ‘dost thou speak against faith in my house : Get out of my doors: I will no longer remain under the same roof with a wretch who speaks wantonly of faith and the scriptures.’– Name not the scriptures,’ says Adams. ‘How ! not name the scriptures' Do you disbelieve the scriptures?' cries Trulliber. ‘No, but you do,” answered Adams, ‘if I may reason from your practice; for their commands are so explicit, and their rewards and punishments so immense, that it is impossible a man should steadfastly believe without obeying. Now, there is no command more express, no duty more frequently enjoined, than charity. Whoever, therefore, is void of charity, I make no scruple of pronouncing that he is no Christian.”—“I would not advise thee,’ says Trulliber, “to say that I am no Christian : I won't take it of you; for I believe I am as good a man as thysels;” (and indeed, though he was now rather too corpulent for athletic exercise, he had, in his youth, been one of the best boxers and cudgel-players in the county.) His wife, seeing him clench his fist, interposed, and begged him not to fight, but show himself a true Christian, and take the law of him. As nothing could provoke Adams to strike, but an absolute assault on himself or his friend, he smiled at the angry look and gestures of Trulliber; and telling him, he was sorry to see such men in orders, departed without further ceremony.


.An adrenture, the consequence of a new instance which Parson. Adams gare of his forgetfulness.

WHEN he came back to the inn, he found Joseph and Fanny sitting together. They were so far from thinking his absence long, as he had feared they would, that they never once missed or thought of him. Indeed, I have been often assured by both, that they spent these hours in a most delightful conversation; but as I never could prevail on either to relate it, so I cannot communicate it to the reader.

Adams acquainted the lovers with the ill

success of his enterprise. They were all greatly confounded, none being able to proJose any method of departing, till Joseph at st advised calling in the hostess, and desiring her to trust them; which Fanny said she despaired of her doing, as she was one of the sourest-faced women she had ever beheld. But she was agreeably disappointed; for the hostess was no sooner asked the question, than she readily agreed; and with a courtesy and smile, wished them a good journey. However, lest Fanny's skill in physiognomy should be called into question, we will venture to assign one reason which might probably incline her to this confidence and good humour. When Adams said he was going to visit his brother, he had unwittingly imposed on Joseph and Fanny: who both believed he meant his natural brother, and not his brother in divinity; and had so informed the hostess, on her inquiry after him. Now Mr. Trulliber had, by his professions of piety, by his gravity, austerity, reserve, and the opinion of his great wealth, so great an authority in his parish, that they all lived in the utmost fear and apprehension of him. It was therefore no wonder that the hostess, who knew it was in his option whether she should ever sell another mug of drink, did not dare to affront his supposed brother, by denying him credit. They were now just on their departure, when Adams recollected he had left his reat-coat and hat at Mr. Trulliber's. As he was not desirous of renewing his visit, the hostess herself, having no servant at home, offered to fetch them. This was an unfortunate expedient; for the hostess was soon undeceived in the opinion she had entertained of Adams, whom Trulliber abused in the grossest terms, especially when he heard he had had the assurance to pretend to be his near relation. At her return, therefore, she entirely changed her note. She said, “Folks might be ashamed of travelling about, and pretending to be what they were not. That taxes were high, and for her part she was obliged to pay for what she had ; she could not therefore possibly, nor would she, trust any body; no, not her own father. That money was never scarcer, and she wanted to make up a sum. That she expected, therefore, they should pay, their reckoning before they left the house.” Adams was now greatly perplexed ; but as he knew that he could easily have borrowed such a sum in his own parish, and as he knew he would have lent it himself to any mortal in distress, so he took fresh courage, and sallied out all round the parish, but to no purpose; he returned as pennyless as he went, groaning and lamenting that it was possible, in a country pro

sessing Christianity, for a wretch to starve in the midst of his fellow-creatures who abounded. Whilst he was gone, the hostess, who staid as a sort of guard with Joseph and Fanny, entertained them with the goodness of Parson Trulliber. And, indeed, he had not only a very good character as to other qualities in the neighbourhood, but was reputed a man of great charity; for though he never gave a farthing, he had always that word in his mouth. Adams was no sooner returned the second time, than the storm grew exceeding high, the hostess declaring, among other things, that if they offered to stir without paying her, she would soon overtake them with a warrant. Plato and Aristotle, or somebody else, hath said, that when the most exquisite cunning fails, chance often hits the mark, and that by means the least expected. Virgil expresses this very boldly,– Turne, quod optanti divum promittere nemo Auderet, volvenda dies, en attulit ultro.

I would quote more great men if I could: but my memory not permitting me, I will proceed to exemplify these observations by the following instance. There chanced, (for Adams had not cunning enough to contrive it,) to be at that time in the ale-house a fellow, who had been formerly a drummer in an Irish regiment, and now travelled the country as a pedlar. This man having attentively listened to the discourse of the hostess, at last took Adams aside, and asked him what the sum was for which they were detained. As soon as he was informed, he sighed, and said, “He was sorry it was so much ; for that he had no more than six shillings and sixpence in his ket, which he would lend them with all his heart.” Adams gave a caper, and cried out, “It would do; for that he had sixpence himself.’ And thus these poor people, who could not engage the compassion of riches and piety, were at length delivered out of their distress by the charity of a poor pedlar. I shall refer it to my reader to make what observations he pleases on this incident: it is sufficient for me to inform him, that, after Adams and his companions had returned him a thousand thanks, and told him where he might call to be repaid, they all sallied out of the house without any compliments from their hostess, or indeed without paying her any : Adams declaring he wou take particular care never to call there again; and she, on her side, assuring them she wanted no such guests.

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.M tery curious adventure, in which Mr. Jldams gare a much greater instance of the homest simplicity of his heart, than of his experience in the ways of this world.

OUR travellers had walked about two miles from that inn; which they had more reason to have mistaken for a castle, than Don Quixote ever had any of those in which he sojourned, seeing they had met with such difficulty in escaping out of its walls; when they came to a parish, and beheld a sign of invitation hanging out. A gentleman sat smoking a pipe at the door; of whom Adams inquired the road, and received so courteous and obligring an answer, accompanied with so smiling a countenance, that the good parson, whose heart was naturally disposed to love and affection, began to ask several other questions; particularly the name of the parish, and who was the owner of a large house whose front they then had in prospect. The gentleman answered as obligingly as before; and as to the house, acquainted him it was his own. He then proceeded in the following manner: “Sir, I presume by your habit you are a clergyman; and as you are travellinor on foot, I suppose a glass of good beer will not be disagreeable to you; and I can recommead my landlord's within, as some of the best in all this country. What say you, will you halt a little and let us take a pipe toother? there is no better tobacco in the kinglom.’ This proposal was not displeasing to Adams, who had allayed his thirst that day with no better liquor than what Mrs. Trulliber's cellar had produced; and which was indeed, little superior, either in riches or flavour, to that which distilled from those grains her generous husband bestowed on his hogs. Having therefore abundantly thanked the gentleman for his kind invitation, and bid Joseph and Fanny follow him. he entered the alehouse, where a large loaf and cheese, and a pitcher of beer, which truly answered the character given of it, being set before them, the three travellers fell to eating, with appetites infianitely more voracious than are to be found at the most exquisite eating-houses in the Parish of St. James's. . The gentleman expressed great delight in the hearty and cheerful behaviour of Adams; and particularly in the familiarity with which he conversed with Joseph and Fanny, whom he osten called his children : * term he explained to mean no more than his parishioners; saying, He looked on all those whom God had intrusted to his care, to stand to him in that relation.” The gentieman, shaking him by the hand, hirhly applauded these sentiments. “They are, indeed, says he, “the true principles of a

christian divine; and I heartily wish they were universal; but on the contrary, I am sorry to say the parson of our parish, instead of esteeming his poor parishioners as a part of his family, seems rather to consider them as not of the same species with himself. He seldom speaks to any, unless some few of the richest of us; nay, indeed, he will not move his hat to the others. I often laugh, when I behold him on Sundays strutting along the church-yard, like a turkey-cock, through rows of his parishioners; who bow to him with as much submission, and are as unregarded as a set of servile courtiers by the proudest prince in Christendom. But if such temporal pride is ridiculous, surely the spiritual is odious and detestable; if such a putled-up empty human bladder, strutting in princely robes, -justly moves one's derision; surely in the habit of a priest it must raise our scorn.” “Doubtless,” answered Adams, ‘your opinion is right; but i hope such examples are rare. The clergy whom I have the lionour to know maintain a different behaviour; and you will allow me, sir, that the readiness which too many of the laity show to contemn the order, may be one reason of their avoiding too much humility.’— “Very true, indeed,” says the gentleman; “I find, sir, you are a man of excellent sense, and am happy in this opportunity of knowing you; perhaps our accidental meeting may not be disadvantageous to you neither. At present, I shall only say to you, that the incumbent of this living is old and infirm; and that it is in my gift. Doctor, give me your hand; and assure yourself of it at his decease.” Adams told him, “He was never more confounded in his life, than at his utter incapacity to make any return to such noble and unmerited generosity."— “A mere trifle, sir, cries the gentleman, ‘scarce worth your acceptance; a little more than three hundred a year. I wish it was double the value, for your sake.” Adams bowed, and cried, from the emotions of gratitude; when the other asked him, “If he was married, or had any children, besides those in the spiritual sense he had mentioned.”— Sir, replied the parson, “I have a wife and six at your service.”— ‘That is unlucky,' says the gentleman; ‘for I would otherwise have taken you into my own house as my chaplain; however, I have another in the parish, (for the parsonagehouse is not good enough,) which I will furnish for you. Pray, dogs your wise understand a dairy f'_*I can't profess she does,’ says Adams. “I am sorry for it,' quoth the gentleman; ‘I would have given you half a dozen cows, and very good grounds to have maintained them.”—“Sir” said Adams, in an extacy, ‘you are too liberal;

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gentleman; ‘I esteem riches only as they ive me an opportunity of doing good; and never saw one whom I had a greater inclination to serve.’ At which words he shook him heartily by the hand, and told him, he had sufficient room in his house to entertain . and his friends. Adams begged he * give him no such trouble; that they could be very well accomodated in the house where they were; forgetting they had not a sixpenny piece among them. The gentleman would not be denied ; and informing himself how far they were travelling, he said, it was too long a journey to take on foot, and begged that they would favour him, by suffering him to lend them a servant and horses; adding withal, that if they would do him the pleasure of their company only two days, he would furnish them with his coach and six. Adams turning to Joseph, said, “How lucky is this gentleman's goodness to you, who I am afraid would be scarce able to hold out on your lame leg;’ and then addressing the person who made him these liberal promises, after much bowing, he cried out, ‘Blessed be the hour which first introduced me to a man of your charity; you are indeed a Christian of the true primitive kind, and an honour to the country wherein you live. I would willingly have taken a pilgrimage to the Holy Land to have beheld you; for the advantages which we draw from your goodness, give me little pleasure, in comparison of what I enjoy for your own sake, when I consider the treasures you are by these means laying up for yourself in a country that passeth not away. We will therefore, most generous sir, accept your goodness, as well, the entertainment you have so kindly offered us at your house this evening, as the accommodation of your horses to-morrow morning.’ He then began to search for his hat, as did Joseph for his; and both they and Fanny were in order of departure, when the gentleman stopping short, and seeming to meditate by himself for the space of a minute, exclaimed thus: Sure never any thing was so unlucky; I had forgot my housekeeper was gone abroad, and hath lock'd up all my rooms; indeed, I would break them open for you, but shall not be able to furnish you with a bed ; for she has likewise put away all my linen. I am glad it entered into my head, before I had É. you the trouble of walking there; ides, I believe you will find better accommodations here than you expected. Landlord, you can provide good beds for these people, can’t you?”—“Yes, and please your worship, cries the host, “and such as no lord or justice of the peace in the kingdom need be ashamed to lie in.”—“I am heartily sorry,’ says the gentleman, “for this disappointment. I am resolved I

will never suffer her to carry away the keys again.”—“Pray, sir, let it not make you uneasy, cries Adams; “we shall do very well here; and the loan of your horses is a favour we shall be incapable of making any return to.”—“Ay!' said the squire, ‘the horses shall attend you here, at what hour in the morning you please.’ And now, after many civilities too tedious to enumerate, many squeezes # the hand, with most affectionate looks and smiles at each other, and after appointing the horses at seven the next morning, the gentleman took his leave of them and departed to his own house. Adams and his companions returned to the table, where the parson smoked another pipe, and then they all retired to rest. Mr. Adams rose very early, and called Joseph out of his bed, between whom a very fierce dispute ensued, whether Fanny should ride behind Joseph, or behind the gentleman's servant; Joseph insisting on it, that he was perfectly recovered, and was as capable of taking care of Fanny as any other person could be. But Adams would not agree to it, and declared he would not trust her behind him; for that he was weaker than he imagined himself to be. This dispute continued a long time, and had begun to be very hot, when a servant arrived from their good friend, to acquaint them, that he was unfortunately prevented from lending them any horses; for that his groom had, unknown to him, put his whole stable under a course of physic. This advice presently struck the two disputants dumb: Adams cried out, “Was ever any thing so unlucky as this poor gentleman? I protest I am more sorry on his account than on my own. You see, Joseph, how this goodnatured man is treated by his servants; one locks up his linen, another physics his horses; and I suppose, by his being at this house last night, the butler had socked up his cellar. Bless us! how good-nature is used in this world ! I protest I am more concerned on his account than my own.”—“So am not I, cries Joseph; ‘not that I am much troubled about walking on foot; all my concern is, how we shall get out of the house, unless God sends another pedlar to redeem us. But certainly this gentleman has such an affection for you, that he would lend you a larger sum than we owe here, which is not above four or five shillings.”—“Very true, child,’ answered Adams; “I will write a letter to him, and will even venture to solicit him for three half crowns: there will be no harm in having two or three shillings in our pocket; as we have full forty miles to travel, we may possibly have occasion for them.” Fanny being now risen, Joseph paid her a visit, and left Adams to write his letter, which, having finished, he despatched a boy with it to the gentleman, and then seated himself by the door, lighted his pipe, and betook himself to meditation.

The boy o: longer than seemed to be necessary, Joseph, who with Fanny was now returned to the parson, expressed some apprehensions that the gentleman's steward had locked up his purse too. To which Adams answered, ‘It might very H. be; and he should wonder at no liberties which the devil might put into the head of a wicked servant to take with so worthy a master;' but added, “that as the sum was so small, so noble a gentleman would be easily able to procure it in the parish, though he had it not in his own pocket. Indeed, says he, “if it was four or five guineas, or any such large quantity of money, it might be a different matter.”

They were now sat down to breakfast, over some toast and ale, when the boy returned, and informed them that the gentleman was not at home. ‘Very well!' cries Adams; “but why, child, did you not stay till his return ? Go back again, my good boy, and wait for his coming home: he cannot be gone far, as his horses are all sick; and besides, he had no intention to go abroad, for he invited us to spend this day and to-morrow at his house. Therefore go back, child, and tarry till his return home.’ The messenger departed, and was back again with great expedition bringing an account that the gentleman was gone a long journey, and would not be at home again this month. At these words Adams seemed greatly confounded, saying, ‘This must be a sudden accident, as the sickness or death of a relation, or some such unforeseen misfortune;' and then turning to Joseph, cried, “I wish you had reminded me to have borrowed this money last night.’ Joseph, smiling, answered, “He was very much deceived, if the gentleman would not have found some excuse to avoid lending it.”—“I own,” says he, ‘I was never much pleased with his professing so much kindness for you at first sight; for I have heard the gentlemen of our cloth in London tell many such stories of their masters. But when the boy brought the message back of his not being at home, I presently knew what would follow; for whenever a man of fashion doth not care to fulfil his promises, the custom is, to order his servants that he will never be at home to the person so promised. In London, they call it denying him. I have myself denied Sir Thomas Booby above a hundred times; and when the unan hath danced attendance for about a month, or sometimes longer, he is acquainted, in the end, that the gentleman is gone out of town, and could do nothing in the business.”—“Good Lord!' says Adams, “what wickedness is there in the chris

tian world ! I profess almost equal to what I have read o the heathens. But surely, Joseph, your suspicions of this gentleman must be unjust; for what a silly fellow must he be, who would do the devil's work for nothing! and canst thou tell me any interest he could possibly propose to himself, by deceiving us in his professions?”—“It is not for me,’ answered Joseph, “to give reasons for what men do, to a gentleman of your learning.”—“You say right, quoth Adams: ‘knowledge of men is only to be learnt from books; Plato and Seneca for that; and those are authors, I am afraid, child, you never read.”—“Not I, sir, truly,’ answered Joseph ; ‘all I know is, it is a maxim among the gentlemen of our cloth, that those masters, who promise the most, perform the least; and I have often heard them say, they have found the largest vails in those families where they were not promised any. But, sir, instead of considering any farther these matters, it would be our wisest way to contrive some method of getting out of this house; for the generous gentleman, instead of doing us any service, hath left us the whole reckoning to pay.” Adams was going to answer, when their host came in, and, with a kind of jeering smile, said, “Well, masters! the squire hath not sent his horses for you yet. Laud help me! how easily some folks make promises!”—“How!' says Adams, “ have you ever known him to do any thing of this kind before ?'—‘Ay! marry have I. answered the host; “it is no business of mine, you know, sir, to say any thing to a gentleman to his face; but now he is not here, I will assure you, he hath not his fellow within the three next market towns. I own I could not help laughing, when I heard him offer you the living; for thereby hangs a good jest. I thought he would have offered you my house next, for one is no more his to dispose of than the other.” At these words, Adams, blessing himself, declared, “he had never read of such a monster. But what vexes me most,’ says he, ‘is, that he hath decoyed us into running up a long debt with you, which we are not able to pay, for we have no money about us; o what is worse, live at such a distance, that if you should trust us, I am afraid you would lose your money, for want of our finding any conveniency of sending it.”—“Trust you, master!’ says the host; ‘that I will with all my heart. I honour the clergy too much to deny trusting one of them for such a trifle; besides, I like your fear of never paying me. I have lost many a debt in my life-time: but was promised to be paid them all in a very short time. I will score this reckoning for the novelty of it. It is the first, I do assure you, of its kind. But what say you, master shall we have t'other poore we

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