CHAP. I. Containing Instructions very necessary to be perused by modern Critics.

READER, it is impossible we should know what Sort of Person thou wilt be: For, perhaps, thou may'st be as learned in Hu|man Nature as Shakespear himself was, and, perhaps, thou may'st be no wiser than some of his Editors. Now, lest this latter should be the Case, we think proper, before we go any farther together, to give thee a few wholesome Admonitions; that thou may'st not as grosly misunderstand and misre|present us, as some of the said Editors have misun|derstood and misrepresented their Author.

First, then, we warn the not too hastily to condemn any of the Incidents in this our History, as imperti|nent Page  230 and foreign to our main Design, because thou dost not immediately conceive in what Manner such Incident may conduce to that Design. This Work may, indeed, be considered as a great Creation of our own; and for a little Reptile of a Critic to presume to find Fault with any of its Parts, without knowing the Manner in which the Whole is connected, and be|fore he comes to the final Catastrophe, is a most pre|sumptuous Absurdity. The Allusion and Metaphor we have here made use of, we must acknowledge to be infinitely too great for our Occasion, but there is, in|deed, no other, which is at all adequate to express the Difference between an Author of the first Rate and a Critic of the lowest.

Another Caution we must give thee, my good Rep|tile, is, that thou dost not find out too near a Resem|blance between certain Characters here introduced; as for instance, between the Landlady who appears in the Seventh Book, and her in the Ninth. Thou art to know, Friend, that there are certain Charac|teristics, in which most Individuals of every Profession and Occupation agree. To be able to preserve these Characteristics, and at the same Time to diversity their Operations, is one Talent of a good Writer. Again, to mark the nice Distinction between two Per|sons actuated by the same Vice or Folly is another; and as this last Talent is found in very few Writers, so is the true Discernment of it found in as few Rea|ders; though, I believe the Observation of this forms a very principal Pleasure in those who are capable of the Discovery: Every Person, for Instance, can dis|tinguish between Sir Epicure Mammon, and Sir Fop|ling Flutter; but to know the Difference between Sir Fopling Flutter and Sir Courtly Nice, requires a more exquisite Judgment: For want of which, vulgar Spec|tators of Plays very often do great Injustice in the Theatre; where I have sometimes known a Poet in Danger of being convicted as a Thief, upon much Page  231 worse Evidence than the Resemblance of Hands hath been held to be in the Law. In reality, I apprehend every amorous Widow on the Stage would run the Hazard of being condemned as a servile Imitation of Dido, but that happily very few of our Play-house Critics understand enough of Latin to read Virgil.

In the next place, we must admonish thee, my wor|thy Friend, (for perhaps, thy Heart may be better than thy Head) not to condemn a Character as a bad one, because it is not perfectly a good one. If thou dost delight in these models of Perfection, there are Books enow written to gratify thy Taste; but as we have not, in the Course of our Conversation, ever hap|pened to meet with any such Person, we have not cho|sen to introduce any such here. To say the Truth, I a little question whether mere Man ever arrived at this consummate Degree of Excellence, as well as whether there hath ever existed a Monster bad enough to veri|fy that

in Juvenal: Nor do I, indeed, conceive the good Purposes served by inserting Characters of such an|gelic Perfection, or such diabolical Depravity, in any Work of Invention: Since from contemplating ei|ther, the Mind of Man is more likely to be over|whelmed with Sorrow and Shame, than to draw any good Uses from such Patterns; for in the former In|stance he may be both concerned and ashamed to see a Pattern of Excellence, in his Nature, which he may reasonably despair of ever arriving at; and in con|templating the latter, he may be no less affected with those uneasy Sensations, at seeing the Nature, of which he is a Partaker, degraded into so odious and detestable a Creature.

Page  232 In Fact, if there be enough of Goodness in a Cha|racter to engage the Admiration and Affection of a well-disposed Mind, though there should appear some of those little Blemishes, quas humana parum cavit na|tura, they will raise our Compassion rather than our Abhorrence. Indeed, nothing can be of more moral Use than the Imperfections which are seen in Exam|ples of this Kind; since such form a Kind of Surprize, more apt to affect and dwell upon our Minds, than the Faults of very vicious and wicked Persons. The Foibles and Vices of Men, in whom there is great Mixture of Good, become more glaring Objects, from the Virtues which contrast them, and which shew their Deformity; and when we find such Vices at|tended with their evil Consequence to our favourite Characters, we are not only taught to shun them for our own Sake, but to hate them for the Mischiefs they have already brought on those we love.

And now, my Friend, having given you these few Admonitions, we will, if you please, once more set forward with our History.

CHAP. II. Containing the Arrival of an Irish Gentleman, with ve|ry extraordinary Adventures which ensued at the Inn.

NOW the little trembling Hare, whom the Dread of all her numerous Enemies, and chiefly of that cunning, cruel, carnivorous Animal Man, had confined all the Day to her Lurking-place, sports wantonly o'er the Lawns: Now on some hollow Tree the Owl, shrill Chorister of the Night, hoots forth Notes which might Charm the Ears of some modern Conoisseurs in Music: Now in the Imagina|tion of the half-drunk Clown, as he staggars through the Church-yard, or rather Charnal-yard, to his Page  233 Home, Fear paints the bloody Hobgoblin: Now Thieves and Ruffians are awake, and honest Watch|men fast asleep: In plain English, it was now Mid|night; and the Company at the Inn, as well those who have been already mentioned in this History, as some others who arrived in the Evening, were all in Bed. Susan Chambermaid, was now only stirring, she being obliged to wash the Kitchen, before she re|tired to the Arms of the fond, expecting Ostler.

In this Posture were Affairs at the Inn, when a Gentleman arrived there Post. He immediately a|lighted from his Horse, and coming up to Susan, enquir|ed of her in a very abrupt and confused Manner, being almost out of Breath with Eagerness, whether there was any Lady in the House. The Hour of Night, and the Behaviour of the Man, who stared very wildly all the Time, a little surprized Susan, so that she he|sitated before she made any Answer: Upon which the Gentleman, with redoubled Eagerness, begg'd her to give him a true Information, saying, he had lost his 'Wife, and was come in Pursuit of her.

He then pulled out a Handful of Guineas, a Sight which would have bribed Persons of much greater Consequence than this poor Wench, to much worse Purposes.

Susan, from the Account she had received of Mrs. Waters, made not the least Doubt but that she was the very identical Stray whom the right owner pursued. As she concluded, therefore, with great Appearance of Reason, that she never could get Money in an honester Page  234 Way than by restoring a Wife to her Husband, she made no Scruple of assuring the Gentleman, that the Lady he wanted was then in the House, and was pre|sently afterward prevailed upon (by very liberal Pro|mises, and some Earnest paid into her Hands) to con|duct him to the Bed-chamber of Mrs. Waters.

It hath been a Custom long established in the polite World, and that upon very solid and substantial Rea|sons, that a Husband shall never enter his Wife's A|partment without first knocking at the Door. The many excellent Uses of this Custom need scarce be hinted to a Reader who hath any Knowledge of the World: For by this Means the Lady hath Time to adjust herself, or to remove any disagreeable Object out of the Way; for there are some Situations, in which nice and delicate Women would not be disco|vered by their Husbands.

To say the Truth, there are several Ceremonies instituted among the polished Part of Mankind, which tho' they may, to coarser Judgments, appear as Mat|ters of mere Form, are found to have much of Sub|stance in them, by the more discerning; and lucky would it have been, had the Custom abovementioned been observed by our Gentleman in the present In|stance. Knock, indeed, he did at the Door, but not with one of those gentle Raps which is usual on such Occasions. On the contrary, when he found the Door locked, he flew at it with such Violence, that the Lock immediately gave Way, the Door burst open, and he fell headlong into the Room.

He had no sooner recovered his Legs, than forth from the Bed, upon his Legs likewise appeared—with Shame and Sorrow are we obliged to proceed—our Heroe himself, who, with a menacing Voice, de|manded of the Gentleman who he was, and what he meant by daring to burst open his Chamber in that outrageous Manner.

Page  235 The Gentleman at first thought he had committed a •istake, and was going to ask Pardon and retreat, when, on a sudden, as the Moon shone very bright, •e cast his Eyes on Stays, Gowns, Petticoats, Caps, Ribbons, Stockings, Garters, Shoes, Clogs, &c.•ll which lay in a disordered Manner on the Floor. All these operating on the natural Jealousy of his Temper, so enraged him, that he lost all Power of Speech; and without returning any Answer to Jones,•e endeavoured to approach the Bed.

Jones immediately interposing, a fierce Contention •rose, which soon proceeded to Blows on both Sides. And now Mrs. Waters (for we must confess she was •n the same Bed) being, I suppose, awakened from •er Sleep, and seeing two Men fighting in her Bed|chamber, began to scream in the most violent Man|ner, crying out Murder! Robbery! and more fre|quently Rape! which last, some, perhaps, may won|der she should mention, who do not consider that these Words of Exclamation are used by Ladies in a Fright, as Fa, la, la, ra, da, &c. are in Music, only as the Vehicles of Sound, and without any fixed Ideas.

Next to the Lady's Chamber was deposited the Body of an Irish Gentleman, who arrived too late at the Inn to have been mentioned before. This Gentleman was one of those whom the Irish call a Calabalaro, or Cavalier. He was a younger Bro|ther of a good Family, and having no Fortune at Home, was obliged to look abroad in order to get one: For which Purpose he was proceeding to the Bath to try his Luck with Cards and the Women.

This young Fellow lay in Bed reading one of Mrs. Behn's Novels; for he had been instructed by a Friend, that he would find no more effectual Method of re|commending himself to the Ladies than the improv|ing his Understanding, and filling his Mind with good Literature. He no sooner, therefore, heard the vio|lent Page  236 Uproar in the next Room, than he leapt from hi• Bolster, and taking his Sword in one Hand, and th• Candle which burnt by him in the other, he went di|rectly to Mrs. Waters's Chamber.

If the Sight of another Man in his Shirt at first ad+ded some Shock to the Decency of the Lady, it mad her presently Amends by considerably abating he Fears; for no sooner had the Calabalaro enter'd th• Room, than he cry'd out:

Upon which th• other immediately answered,

Fitzpatrick now perceiving, as well by the Glimps• he had of the Lady, as by her Voice, which might have been distinguished at a greater Distance than he now stood from her, that he had made a very unfor|tunate Mistake, began to ask many Pardons of the Lady; and then turning to Jones he said,

Jones treated this Menace with much Contempt; and Mr. Macklachlan answered,

Jones was so confounded with his Fears for his Lady's Reputation, that he knew neither what to say Page  237 or do; but the Invention of Women is, as hath been observed, much readier than that of Men. She re|collected that there was a communication between her •hamber and that of Mr. Jones; relying, therefore, •n his Honour and her own Assurance, she answered, I know not what you mean, Villains! I am Wife to none of you. Help! Rape! Murder! Rape!'—And now the Landlady coming into the Room, Mrs. Waters fell upon her with the utmost Virulence, ••ying, 'She thought herself in a sober Inn, and not in a Bawdy-House; but that a Set of Villains had broke into her Room, with an Intent upon her Ho|nour, if not upon her Life; and both, she said, were equally dear to her'.

The Landlady now began to roar as loudly as the •oor Woman in Bed had done before. She cry'd, She was undone, and that the Reputation of her House, which was never blown upon before, was utterly destroyed.' Then turning to the Men, she •ry'd, 'What, in the Devil's Name, is the Reason of all this Disturbance in the Lady's Room?' Fitz|patrick, hanging down his Head, repeated, 'that he had committed a Mistake, for which he heartily asked Pardon,' and then retired with his Country|man. Jones, who was too ingenious to have missed •he Hint given him by his Fair One, boldly asserted, That he had run to her Assistance upon hearing the Door broke open; with what Design he could not conceive, unless of robbing the Lady; which if they intended, he said, he had had the good Fortune to prevent. "I never had a Robbery committed in my House since I have kept it,' cries the Landlady: I wou'd have you to know, Sir, I harbour no Highwaymen here; I scorn the Word, thof I say it. None but honest, good Gentlefolks, are welcome to my House; and I thank good Luck, I have al|ways had enow of such Customers; indeed as ma|ny as I could entertain. Here hath been my Lord—' Page  238 and then she repeated over a Catalogue of Name and Titles, many of which we might, perhaps, b• guilty of a Breach of Privilege by inserting.

Jones, after much Patience, at length interrupted her, by making an Apology to Mrs. Waters, for hav+ing appeared before her in his Shirt, assuring her

The Reader ma• inform himself of her Answer, and, indeed, of h• whole Behaviour to the End of the Scene, by consi+dering the Situation which she affected, being that of modest Lady, who was awakened out of her Slee• by three strange Men in her Chamber. This was th• Part which she undertook to perform; and, indeed she executed it so well, that none of our Theatric• Actresses could exceed her, in any of their Perfor+mances, either on or off the Stage.

And hence, I think, we may very fairly draw a• Argument, to prove how extremely natural Virtue i• to the Fair Sex: For tho' there is not, perhaps, on• in ten thousand who is capable of making a good Act+ress; and even among these we rarely see two wh• are equally able to personate the same Character; y•• this of Virtue they can all admirably well put on; an• as well those Individuals who have it not, as thos• who possess it, can all act it to the utmost Degree o• Perfection.

When the Men were all departed, Mrs. Water recovering from her Fear, recovered likewise from her Anger, and spoke in much gentler Accents to th• Landlady, who did not so readily quit her Concern for the Reputation of the House, in Favour of which she began again to number the many great Person• who had slept under her Roof; but the Lady stopt he• short, and having absolutely acquitted her of having had any Share in the past Disturbance, begged to b• left to her Repose, which, she said, she hoped to en+joy unmolested during the Remainder of the Night Page  239 Upon which the Landlady, after much Civility, and •any Curt'sies, took her Leave.

CHAP. III. • Dialogue between the Landlady, and Susan the Chambermaid, proper to be read by all Innkeepers, and their Servants; with the Arrival, and affable Behaviour of a beautiful young Lady; which may teach Persons of Condition how they may acquire the Love of the whole World.

THE Landlady remembring that Susan had been the only Person out of Bed when the Door was •urst open, resorted presently to her, to enquire into •he first Occasion of the Disturbance, as well as who •he strange Gentleman was, and when and how he ••ived.

Susan related the whole Story which the Reader •nows already, varying the Truth only in some Cir|cumstances, as she saw convenient, and totally con|cealing the Money which she had received. But whereas her Mistress had in the Preface to her En|quiry spoken much in Compassion for the Fright which the Lady had been in concerning any intended Depredations on her Virtue, Susan could not help endeavouring to quiet the Concern which her Mis|tress seemed to be under on that Account, by swear|•ng heartily she saw Jones leap out from her Bed.

The Landlady fell into a violent Rage at these Words.

Susan being thus silenced, her Mistress proceeded to other Matters.

Susan departed, and soon returned with an Account that the two Gentlemen were got both into the sam• Bed,

In these Censures, my Landlady did Mr. Fitzpa|•ick great Injustice; for he was really born a Gen|tleman, though not worth a Groat; and tho', perhaps, •e had some few Blemishes in his Heart as well as •n his Head, yet being a sneaking, or a niggardly Fel|low, was not one of them. In reality, he was so generous a Man, that whereas he had received a very •andsome Fortune with his Wife, he had now spent every Penny of it, except some little Pittance which was settled upon her; and in order to possess himself •f this, he had used her with such Cruelty, that to|gether with his Jealousy, which was of the bitterest •ind, it had forced the poor Woman to run away from him.

This Gentleman then being well tired with his long •ourney from Chester in one Day, with which, and •ome good dry Blows, he had received in the Scuffle, •is Bones were so sore, that added to the Soreness of ••s Mind, it had quite deprived him of any Appetite for eating. And now being so violently disappointed •n the Woman, whom at the Maid's Instance, he had mistaken for his Wife, it never once entered into •is Head, that she might nevertheless be in the House, though he had erred in the first Person he had attack|ed. He therefore yielded to the Dissuasions of his Friend from searching any farther after her that Night, and accepted the Kind offer of Part of his Bed.

Page  242 The Footman and Post-boy were in a differ••• Disposition. They were more ready to order th•• the Landlady was to provide; however, after bei•• pretty well satisfied by them of the real Truth of •• Case, and that Mr. Fitzpatrick was no Thief, • was at length prevailed on to set some cold M• before them, which they were devouring with gr• Greediness, when Partridge came into the Kitch• He had been first awakened by the Hurry which • have before seen, and while he was endeavouring compose himself again on his Pillow, a Screech-O• had given him such a Serenade at his Window, that leapt in a most horrible Affright from his Bed, • huddling on his Cloaths with great Expedition, • down to the Protection of the Company, whom heard talking below in the Kitchen.

His Arrival detained my Landlady from returni•• to her Rest: For she was just about to leave the ther two Guests to the Care of Susan; but the Fri• of young Squire Allworthy was not to be so neglect especially as he called for a Pint of Wine to be •• led. She immediately obeyed, by putting the sa• Quantity of Perry to the Fire: For this readily swered to the Name of every Kind of Wine.

The Irish Footman was retired to Bed, and Post-Boy was going to follow; but Partridge vited him to stay, and partake of his Wine, which Lad very thankfully accepted. The Schoolma• was indeed afraid to return to Bed by himself; an• he did not know how soon he might lose the Co•+pany of my Landlady, he was resolved to secure of the Boy, in whose Presence he apprehended Danger from the Devil, or any of his Adherents.

And now arrived another Post-Boy at the G• upon which Susan being ordered out, returned; troducing two young Women in Riding-habits, of which was so very richly laced, that PartridgePage  243 the Post-boy instantly started from their Chairs, and my Landlady fell to her Curt'sies, and her Lady|ships, with great Eagerness.

The Lady in the rich Habit said, with a Smile of great Condescension, 'If you will give me Leave, Madam, I will warm myself a few Minutes at your Kitchen Fire, for it is really very cold; but I must insist on disturbing no one from their Seats.' This was spoken on Account of Partridge, who had retreat|ed to the other End of the Room, struck with the ut|most Awe and Astonishment at the Splendor of the Lady's dress. Indeed she had a much better Title to Respect than this: For she was one of the most beautiful Creatures in the World.

The Lady earnestly desired Partridge to return to his Seat, but could not prevail. She then pulled off her Gloves, and displayed two Hands, which had eve|ry Property of Wax in them, except that of melting, to the Fire. Her Companion, who was indeed her Maid, likewise pulled off her Gloves, and discovered what bore an exact Resemblance, in Cold and Colour, •o a Piece of frozen Beef.

'I wish, Madam,' quoth the latter, 'your Lady|ship would not think of going any farther to Night. I am terribly afraid your Ladyship will not be able to bear the Fatigue.

'Why sure,' cries the Landlady,' 'her Lady|ship's Honour can never intend it. O bless me, farther, to Night indeed! Let me beseech your Ladyship not to think on't—But to be sure, your Ladyship can't. What will your Honour be pleased to have for Supper? I have Mutton of all Kinds, and some nice Chicken.'—

She then departed with her Maid, the Landlady marching with two lighted Candles before her.

When that good Woman returned, the Conversa|tion in the Kitchen was all upon the Charms of the young Lady. There is indeed in perfect Beauty a Power which none almost can withstand: For my Landlady, though she was not pleased at the Nega|tive given to the Supper, declared she had never seen so lovely a Creature. Partridge ran out into the most extravagant Encomiums on her Face, though he could not refrain from paying some Compliments to the Gold Lace on her Habit: the Post-boy sung forth the Praises of her Goodness, which were likewise echo|ed by the other Post-boy, who was now come in.

Such Charms are there in Affability, and so sure is it to attract the Praises of all Kinds of People. It may indeed be compared to the celebrated Mrs. Hussy*. It is equally sure to set off every Female Perfection to the highest Advantage, and to palliate and conceal every Defect. A short Reflection which Page  246 we could not forbear making in this Place, where my Reader hath seen the Loveliness of an affable Deport|ment; and Truth will now oblige us to contrast it, by shewing the Reverse.

CHAP. IV. Containing infallible Nostrums for procuring universal Disesteem and Hatred.

THE Lady had no sooner laid herself on her Pil|low, than the Waiting-woman returned to the Kitchen to regale with some of those Dainties which her Mistress had refused.

The Company at her Entrance, shewed her the same Respect which they had before paid to her Mistress, by rising; but she forgot to imitate her, by desiring them to sit down again. Indeed it was scarce possible they should have done so: For she placed her Chain in such a Posture, as almost to occupy the whole Fire. She then ordered a Chicken to be broiled that Instant, declaring if it was not ready in a Quarter of an Hour, she would not stay for it. Now tho' the said Chicken was then at Roost in the stable, and re|quired the several Ceremonies of catching, killing, and picking, before it was brought to the Grid-iron, my Landlady would nevertheless have undertaken to do all within the Time; but the Guest being unfortu|nately admitted behind the Scenes, must have been Witness to the Fourberie, the poor Woman was there|fore obliged to confess that she had none in the House; but, Madam, said she,

The Landlady fired at •is Indignity offered to her House; however she sup|ressed her Temper, and contented herself with say|ing, —The Landlady begun then to handle her Knife; but the other stopt her, saying,

The Landlady, who governed herself with much Difficulty, began now the necessary Preprerations; for as to Susan, she was utterly rejected, and with Page  248 such Disdain, that the poor Wench was as hard put to it, to restrain her Hands from Violence, as her Mistress had been to hold her Tongue. This indeed Susan did not entirely: For tho' she literally kept it within her Teeth, yet there it muttered many

While the Supper was preparing, Mrs Abigail be|gan to lament she had not ordered a Fire in the Par|lour; but she said, that was now too late.

Then turning to the Post-Boys, she asked them, cries she to the Landlady,

This Latin she took to be some Af|front, and answered, Partridge made a genteel Reply, and concluded with more Latin; upon which she toss|ed up her Nose, and contented herself by abusing him with the Name of a great Scholar.

The Supper being now on the Table, Mrs. Abigail eat very heartily, for so delicate a Person; and while a second Course of the same was by her Order pre|paring, she said,

The Landlady answered in the Affirmative, saying,

said Abigail.

The Landlady pricked up her Ears at this, and Par|tridge looked a little confounded. However, after a short Hesitatation, he answered,

At that Word, Abigail let drop the Ba|con, which she was conveying to her Mouth, and cried out,

Abigail now made Haste to finish the Remainder of her Meal, and then repaired back to her Mistress, when the Conversation passed, which may be read in the next Chapter.

CHAP. V. Shewing who the amiable Lady, and her unamiable Maid, were.

AS in the Month of June, the Damask Rose, which Chance hath planted among the Lillies with their candid Hue mixes his Vermilion: Or, as some play-some Heifer in the pleasant Month of May diffuses her oderiferous Breath over the flowery Mea|dows: Or as, in the blooming Month of April, the gentle, constant Dove, perched on some fair Bough, Page  250 sits meditating her Mate; so looking a hundred Charms, and breathing as many Sweets, her Thoughts being fixed on her Tommy, with a Heart as good and inno|cent, as her Face was beautiful: Sophia (for it was she herself) lay reclining her lovely Head on her Hand, when her Maid entered the Room, and running di|rectly to the Bed, cried,

Sophia starting up, cried, Her Maid averred the Fact, and was presently detached by her Mistress to order him to be called; for she said she was resolved to see him immediately.

Mrs. Honour had no sooner left the Kitchen in the Manner we have before seen, than the Landlady fell severely upon her. The poor Woman had indeed been loading her Heart with foul Language for some Time, and now it scoured out of her Mouth as Filth doth from a Mud-Cart, when the Board which con+sines it is removed. Partridge, likewise shovelled in his share of Calumny; and (what may surprize the Reader) not only bespattered the Maid, but attempted to fully the Lilly-white Character of Sophia herself

Page  251 While they were thus discoursing, Mrs. Honour re|turned, and discharged her Commission, by bidding the Landlady immediately awake Mr. Jones, and tell him a Lady wanted to speak with him. The Landlady referr|ed to Partridge, saying,

and then walked sullenly out of the Kitchen. Honour applied herself to Partridge; but he refused; Mrs. Honour insisted still to have him called, saying, cries Honour? answered Par|tridge. He then proceeded to inform her plainly, that Jones was in Bed with a Wench, and made use of an Expression too indelicate to be here inserted; which so enraged Mrs. Honour, that she called him saucy Jackanapes, and returned in a violent Hurry to her Mistress, whom she acquainted with the Success of her Errand, and with the Account she had received; which, if possible, she exaggerated, being as angry with Jones, as if he had pronounced all the Words that came from the Mouth of Partridge. She dis|charged a Torrent of Abuse on the Master, and ad|vised her Mistress to quit all Thoughts of a Man who had never shewn himself deserving of her. She then ripped up the Story of Molly Seagrim, and gave the most malicious Turn to his formerly quitting Sophia herself; which, I must confess, the present Incident not a littl countenanced.

The Spirits of Sophia were too much dissipated by Concern to enable her to stop the Torrent of her Page  252 Maid.

To say the Truth, this Behaviour of Partridge was a little inexcusable; but he had not slept off the Effect of the Dose which he swallowed the Evening before; which had in the Morning, received the Addi|tion of about a Pint of Wine, or indeed rather of Malt Spirits; for the Perry was by no Means pure. Now that Part of his Head which Nature designed for the Reservoir of Drink, being very shallow, a small Quantity of Liquor overflowed it, and opened the Sluices of his Heart; so that all the Secrets there de|posited run out. These Sluices were indeed naturally very ill secured. To give the best natured Turn we can to his disposition, he was a very honest Man: for as he was the most inquisitive of Mortals, and eter|nally prying into the Secrets of others, so he very faithfully paid them by communicating, in Return, every thing within his Knowledge.

While Sophia tormented with Anxiety, knew not what to believe, nor what Resolution to take, Susan arrived with the Sack-Whey. Mrs. Honour imme|diately advised her Mistress, in a Whisper to pump this Wench, who probably could inform her of the Truth. Sophia approved it, and began as follows:

Here Sophia blushed and was confounded—Susan answered, continues So|phia, 'any Lady? I don't ask you whether she is handsome or no; perhaps she is not, that's nothing to the Purpose, but do you know of any Lady?' Here Susan smiled, and was silent. Susan, after a very short Hesitation, took the Money, and told his whole Story, concluding with saying, She ac|cordingly did this by Sophia's Desire, and returned with an Answer in the Negative.

Sophia now trembled and turned pale. Mrs. Ho|nour begged her to be comforted, and not to think any more of so worthless a Fellow.

—Here she stopt, till having received Encouragement from Sophia,Page  254 and being vehemently pressed by Mrs. Honour, she proceeded thus:—

Sophia gave her a third Guinea, and telling her she would certainly be her Friend, if she mentioned no|thing of what had passed, nor informed any one who she was, dismissed the Girl with Orders to the Post-Boy to get the Horses ready immediately.

Being now left alone with her Maid, she told her trusty Waiting-woman,

After a short Interval, spent chiefly by Sophia, i• crying and assuring her Maid that she was perfectly easy, Susan arrived with an Account that the Horse• were ready, when a very extraordinary Thought sug+gested itself to our young Heroine, by which Mr. Jones would be acquainted with her having been a• the Inn, in a Way, which, if any Sparks of Affec+tion for her remained in him, would be some Punish+ment, at least, for his Faults.

The Reader will be pleased to remember a little Muff, which hath had the Honour of being more than once remembered already in this History. Thi• Muff, ever since the Departure of Mr. Jones, ha••Page  255 been the constant companion of Sophia by Day, and her Bedfellow by Night, and this Muff she had at this very Instant upon her Arm; whence she took it off with great Indignation, and having writ her Name with her Pencil upon a Piece of Paper which she pin|ned to it, she bribed the Maid to convey it into the empty Bed of Mr. Jones, in which if he did not find it, she charged her to take some Method of con|veying it before his Eyes in the Morning.

Then having paid for what Mrs. Honour had ea|ten, in which Bill was included an Account for what she herself might have eaten, she mounted her Horse, and once more assuring her Companion that she was perfectly easy, continued her Journey.

CHAP. VI. Containing, among other Things, the Ingenuity of Par|tridge, the Madness of Jones, and the Folly of Fitzpatrick.

IT was now past Five in the Morning, and other Company began to rise and come to the Kitchen, among whom were the Serjeant and the Coachman, who being thoroughly reconciled, made a Libati|on, or, in the English Phrase, drank a hearty Cup together.

In this Drinking nothing more remarkable happen|ed, than the Behaviour of Partridge, who, when the Serjeant drank a Health to King George, repeated only the Word King: Nor could he be brought to utter more: For tho' he was going to sight against his own Cause, yet he could not be prevailed upon to drink against it.

Mr. Jones being now returned to his own Bed (but from whence we returned he must beg to be excused from relating) summoned Partridge from this agree|able Company, who, after a ceremonious Preface, Page  256 having obtained leave to offer his Advice, delivered himself as follows:

Now as the Honesty of Partridge was equal to his Understanding, and both dealt only in small Matters, he would never have attempted a Roguery of this Page  257 Kind, had he not imagined it altogether safe; for he was one of those who have more consideration of the Gallows than of the Fitness of Things; but in Re|ality, he thought he might have committed this Felony without any Danger: For, besides that he doubted not but the Name of Mr. Allworthy would sufficiently quiet the Landlord, he conceived they should be alto|gether safe, whatever Turn Affairs might take; as Jones, he imagined, would have Friends enough on one Side, and as his Friends would as well secure him on the other.

When Mr. Jones found that Partridge was in ear|nest in this Proposal, he very severely rebuked him, and that in such bitter Terms that the other attempted to laugh it off, and presently turned the Discourse to other Matters, saying, he believed they were then in a Bawdy-house, and that he had with much ado pre|vented two Wenches from disturbing his Honour in the middle of the Night.

Indeed, as Jones returned to his Bed in the Dark, he had never perceived the Muff on the Quilt, and in leaping into his Bed he had tumbled it on the Floor. This Partridge now took up, and was going to put into his Pocket, when Jones desired to see it. The Muff was so very remarkable, that our Heroe might possibly have recollected it without the Information annexed. But his Memory was not put to that hard Office, for at the same Instant he saw and read the Words Sophia Western upon the Paper which was pinned to it. His Looks now grew frantic in a Moment, and he eagerly cried out, cries Jones, jumping out of Bed, and Page  258 laying hold of his Clothes. said Partridge. And now Jones, upon further Enquiry, was sufficiently assured that the Bearer of this Muff was no other than the lovely Sophia herself.

The Behaviour of Jones on this Occasion. His Thoughts, his Looks, his Words, his Actions, were such as Beggar all Description. After many bitter Execrations on Partridge, and not fewer on himself, he ordered the poor Fellow, who was frightened out of his Wits, to run down and hire him Horses at any rate; and a very few Minutes afterwards, having shuffled on his Clothes, he hastened down Stairs to execute the Orders himself, which he had just before given.

But before we proceed to what passed on his Arri|val in the Kitchen, it will be necessary to recur to what had there happened since Partridge had first left it on his Master's Summons.

The Serjeant was just marched off with his Party when the two Irish Gentlemen arose and came down Stairs; both complaining, that they had been so often waked by the Noises in the Inn, that they had never once been able to close their Eyes all Night.

The Coach, which had brought the young Lady and her Maid, and which, perhaps, the Reader may have hitherto concluded was her own, was indeed a re|turned Coach belonging to Mr. King of Bath, one of the worthiest and honestest Men that ever dealt in Horse-flesh, and whose Coaches we heartily recom+mend to all our Readers who travel that Road. By which Means they may, perhaps, have the Pleasure of riding in the very Coach, and being driven by the very Coachman, that is recorded in this History.

The Coachman having but two Passengers, and hearing Mr. Maclachlan was bound to Bath, offered to carry him thither at a very moderate Price. He was induced to this by the Report of the Ostler, who Page  259 said, that the Horse which Mr. Maclachlan had hired •rom Worcester, would be much more pleased with re|••rning to his Friend there, than to prosecute a long •ourney; for that the said Horse was rather a two|••gged than a four-legged Animal.

Mr. Maclachlan immediately closed with the Pro|posal of the Coachman, and, at the same Time, per|•aded his Friend Fitzpatrick to accept of the fourth •lace in the Coach. This Conveyance the Soreness •f his Bones made more agreeable to him than a Horse, •nd being well assured of meeting with his Wife at •ath, he thought a little Delay would be of no Con|•equence.

Maclachlan, who was much the sharper Man of the •wo, no sooner heard that this Lady came from Ches|•r, with the other Circumstances which he learned •rom the Ostler, than it came into his Head that she •ight possibly be his Friend's Wife; and presently ac|•uainted him with this Suspicion, which had never •nce occurred to Fitzpatrick himself. To say the •ruth, he was one of those Compositions which Na|••re makes up in two great a Hurry, and forgets to at any Brains in their Head.

Now it happens to this sort of Men, as to bad •ounds, who never hit off a Fault themselves; but no •oner doth a Dog of Sagacity open his Mouth, than •ey immediately do the same, and without the Guide • any Scent, run directly forwards as fast as they are •le. In the same Manner, the very Moment Mr. Maclachlan had mentioned his Apprehension, Mr. Fitzpatrick instantly concurred, and flew directly up •airs to surprize his Wife before he knew where she •as; and unluckily (as Fortune loves to play Tricks •ith those Gentlemen who put themselves entirely un|•r her Conduct) ran his Head against several Doors ••d Posts to no Purpose. Much kinder was she to 〈◊〉, when she suggested that Simile of the Hounds, 〈◊〉 before inserted, since the poor Wife may, on these, Page  260 Occasions, be so justly compared to a hunted Hare. Like that little wretched Animal she pricks up her Ears to listen after the Voice of her Pursuer; like her, flies away trembling when she hears it; and like her, is generally overtaken and destroyed in the End.

This was not however the Case at present; for af|ter a long fruitless Search, Mr. Fitzpatrick returned to the Kitchen, where, as if this had been a rea• Chace, entered a Gentleman hallowing as Hunter do when the Hounds are at Fault. He was just a lighting from his Horse, and had many Attendants a• his Heels.

Here, Reader, it may be necessary to acquaint the• with some Matters, which, if thou dost know already thou art wiser than I take thee to be. And this Infor+mation thou shalt receive in the next Chapter.

CHAP. VII. In which are included the Adventures that happened a the Inn at Upton.

IN the first Place then, this Gentleman just arrive• was no other Person than Squire Western himself who was come hither in Pursuit of his Daughter; an• had he fortunately been two Hours earlier, he had no• only found her, but his Neice into the Bargain; fo• such was the Wife of Mr. Fitzpatrick, who had ru• away with her five Years before, out of the Custod• of that sage Lady Madam Western.

Now this Lady had departed from the Inn muc• about at the same Time with Sophia: For having bee• waked by the Voice of her Husband, she had sent u• for the Landlady, and being by her apprized of th• Matter, had bribed the good Woman, at an extra+vagant Price, to furnish her with Horses for her e•+cape. Such Prevalence had Money in this Family and tho' the Mistress would have turned away he Page  261 Maid for a corrupt Hussy, if she had known as much •s the Reader, yet she was no more Proof against Corruption herself than poor Susan had been.

Mr. Western and his Nephew were not known to one another; nor indeed would the former have tak|en any Notice of the latter, if he had known him; for this being a stolen Match, and consequently an unnatural one in the Opinion of the good Squire, he had, from the Time of her committing it, abandoned he poor young Creature, who was then no more than Eighteen, as a Monster, and had never since suffered her to be named in his Presence.

The Kitchen was now a Scene of universal Con|fusion, Western enquiring after his Daughter, and Fitzpatrick as eagerly after his Wife, when Jones en|tered the Room, unfortunately having Sophia's Muff in his Hand.

As soon as Western saw Jones, he set up the same Holla as is used by Sportsmen when their Game is in View. He then immediately run up and laid hold of Jones, crying, 'We have got the Dog Fox, I warrant the Bitch is not far off.' The Jargon which followed for some Minutes, where many spoke different Things at the same Time, as it would be very difficult to discribe, so would it be no less unpleasant to read.

Jones having, at length, shaken Mr. Western off, and some of the Company having interfered between them, our Heroe protested his Innocence as to know|ing any thing of the Lady; when Parson Supple step|ped up, and said,

At these Words Western lost all Patienc• and grew inarticulate with Rage.

Some of the Servants had acquainted Fitzpatric• who Mr. Western was. The good Irishman there fore thinking he had now an Opportunity to do a Act of Service to his Uncle, and by that Means mig•• possibly obtain his Favour, stept up to Jones, an• cried out,

The turning to Western, he offered to conduct him imme+diately to the Room where his Daughter was; which Offer being accepted, he, the Squire, the Parson, and some others, ascended directly to Mrs. Waters Chamber, which they entered with no less Violence than Mr. Fitzpatrick had done before.

The poor Lady started from her Sleep with a much Amazement as Terror, and beheld at her Bed side a Figure which might very well be supposed • have escaped out of Bedlam. Such Wildness an• Confusion were in the Looks of Mr. Western; wh• no sooner saw the Lady, than he started back, show+ing sufficiently by his Manner, before he spoke, th• this was not the Person sought after.

So much more tenderly do Women value their Re+putation than their Persons, that tho' the latter seem+ed now in more Danger than before, yet as the for+mer was secure, the Lady screamed not with such Vi+olence as she had done on the other Occasion. How+ever, she no sooner found herself alone, than she a+bandoned all Thoughts of further Repose, and as sh•Page  263 had sufficient Reason to be dissatisfied with her pre|sent Lodging, she dressed herself with all possible Ex|pedition.

Mr. Western now proceeded to search the whole House, but to as little Purpose as he had disturbed poor Mrs. Waters. He then returned disconsolate into the Kitchen, where he found Jones in the Cus|tody of his Servants.

This violent Uproar had raised all the People in the House; tho' it was yet scarcely Day-light. Among these was a grave Gentleman, who had the Honour to be in the Commission of the Peace for the County of Worcester. Of which Mr. Western was no sooner informed, than he offered to lay his Complaint be|fore him. The Justice declined executing his Office, as he said he had no Clerk present, nor no Book about Justice Business. And that he could not carry all the Law in his Head about stealing away Daugh|ters, and such Sort of Things.

Here Mr. Fitzpatrick offered to lend him his Assis|tance; informing the Company that he had been him|self bred to the Law. (And indeed he had served three Years as Clerk to an Attorney in the North of Ireland, when chusing a genteeler Walk in Life, he quitted his Master, came over to England, and set up that Business, which requires no Apprenticeship, namely, that of a Gentleman, in which he had succeeded as hath been already partly mentioned.)

Mr. Fitzpatrick declared that the Law concerning Daughters was out of the present Case; that steal|ing a Muff was undoubtedly Felony, and the Goods being found upon the Person, were sufficient Evidence of the Fact.

The Magistrate, upon the Encouragement of so learned a Coadjutor, and upon the violent Interces|sion of the Squire, was at length prevailed upon to seat himself in the Chair of Justice, where being placed, upon viewing the Muff which Jones still held Page  264 in his Hand, and upon the Parson's swearing it to be the Property of Mr. Western, he desired Mr. Fitzpa+trick to draw up a Commitment, which he said h• would sign.

Jones now desired to be heard, which was at last with Difficulty, granted him. He then produced th• Evidence of Mr. Partridge, as to the finding it; but what was still more, Susan deposed that Sophia her+self had delivered the Muff to her, and had ordered her to convey it into the Chamber where Mr. Jones had found it.

Whether a natural Love of Justice, or the extraor+dinary Comeliness of Jones, had wrought on Susa• to make the Discovery, I will not determine; but such were the Effects of her Evidence that the Ma+gistrate throwing himself back in his Chair, declare• that the Matter was now altogether as clear on th• Side of the Prisoner, as it had before been against him; with which the Parson concurred, saying, The Lord forbid he should be instrumental in committing an innocent Person to Durance. The Justice then arose, acquitted the Prisoner, and broke up the Court.

Mr. Western now gave every one present a hearty Curse, and immediately ordering his Horses, departed in pursuit of his Daughter, without taking the lea•• Notice of his Nephew Fitzpatrick, or returning any Answer to his Claim of Kindred, notwithstanding al• the Obligations he had just received from that Gen+tleman. In the Violence, moreover, of his Hurry and of his Passion, he luckily forgot to demand th• Muff of Jones: I say luckily; for he would have died on the Spot rather than have parted with it.

Jones likewise, with his Friend Partridge, set for ward the Moment he had paid his Reckoning, in Que•• of his lovely Sophia, whom he now resolved never more to abandon the Pursuit of. Nor could he bring him self even to take Leave of Mrs. Waters; of whom Page  265 he detested the very Thoughts, as she had been, tho' •ot designedly, the Occasion of his missing the hap|piest Interview with Sophia, to whom he now vowed •ternal Constancy.

As for Mrs. Waters, she took the Opportunity of he Coach which was going to Bath; for which Place he set out in Company with the two Irish Gentlemen, he Landlady kindly lending her her Clothes; in 〈◊〉 for which she was contented only to receive a|•out double their Value, as a Recompence for the •oan. Upon the Road she was perfectly reconciled •• Mr. Fitzpatrick, who was a very handsome Fellow, •nd indeed did all she could to console him in the Ab|•nce of his Wife.

Thus ended the many odd Adventures which Mr. Jones encountered at his Inn at Upton, where they 〈◊〉, to this Day, of the Beauty and lovely Behaviour •f the charming Sophia, by the Name of the Somer|••shire Angel.

CHAP. VIII. In which the History goes backward.

BEFORE we proceed any farther in our History, it may be proper to look a little back, in order account for the extraordinary Appearance of Sophia•nd her Father at the Inn at Upton.

The Reader may be pleased to remember, that in •e Ninth Chapter of the Seventh Book of our His|••ry, we left Sophia, after a long Debate between •ove and Duty, deciding the Cause, as it usually, I •elieve, happens, in Favour of the Former.

This Debate had arisen, as we have there shewn, ••om a Visit which her Father had just before made •r, in order to force her Consent to a Marriage with Blifil; and which he had understood to be fully im|••ied in her Acknowledgment, that she neither must, •• could refuse any absolute Command of his.

Page  266 Now from this Visit the Squire retired to his Even|ing Potation, overjoyed at the Success he had had with his Daughter; and as he was of a social Disposi|tion, and willing to have Partakers in his Happiness, the Beer was ordered to flow very liberally into the Kitchen; so that before Eleven in the Evening, there was not a single Person sober in the House, except on|ly Mrs. Western herself, and the charming Sophia.

Early in the Morning a Messenger was dispatched to summon Mr. Blifil: For tho' the Squire imagined that young Gentleman had been much less acquainted than he really was, with the former Aversion of hi• Daughter; as he had not, however, yet received he• Consent, he longed impatiently to communicate it to him, not doubting but that the intended Bride herself would confirm it with her Lips. As to the Wedding it had the Evening before been fixed, by the Mal• Parties, to be celebrated on the next Morning sav• one.

Breakfast was now set forth in the Parlour, where Mr. Blifil attended, and where the Squire and his Sister likewise were assembled; and now Sophia was order+ed to be called.

O, Shakespear, had I thy Pen! O, Hogarth, ha• I thy Pencil! then would I draw the Picture of th• poor Serving-Man, who with pale Countenance staring Eyes, chattering Teeth, faultering Tongue and trembling Limbs,

entered the Room, and declared,—That Madam So+phia was not be found.

He then gave Orders for the Bell to be rung in the Garden, and sat himself contentedly down.

No two Things could be more the Reverse of each other than were the Brother and Sister, in most In|stances; particularly in this, That as the Brother never foresaw any Thing at a Distance, but was most sagacious in immediately seeing every Thing the Mo|ment it had happened; so the Sister eternally foresaw at a Distance, but was not so quick-sighted to Objects before her Eyes. Of both these the Reader may have observed Examples: And, indeed, both their several Talents were excessive: For as the Sister often fore|saw what never came to pass, so the Brother often saw much more than was actually the Truth.

This was not however the Case at present. The same Report was brought from the Garden, as before had been brought from the Chamber, that Madam Sophia was not to be found.

The Squire himself now sallied forth, and begun to •oar forth the Name of Sophia as loudly, and in as •oarse a Voice, as whileom did Hercules that of Hylas: And as the Poet tells us, that the whole Shore eccho|ed back the Name of that beautiful Youth; so did the Page  268 House, the Garden, and all the neighbouring Fields, resound nothing but the Name of Sophia, in the hoarse Voice of the Men, and in the shrill Pipes of the Wo|men; while Echo seemed so pleased to repeat the beloved Sound, that if there is really such a Person, I believe Ovid hath belied her Sex.

Nothing reigned for a long Time but Confusion; 'till at last the Squire having sufficiently spent his Breath, returned to the Parlour, where he found Mrs. Western and Mr. Blifil, and threw himself, with the utmost Dejection in his Countenance, into a great Chair.

Here Mrs. Western began to apply the following Consolation:

'Here Western rose hastily from his Chair, and, venting two or three horrid Im|precations, ran out of the Room.

When he was departed, his Sister expressed more Bitterness (if possible) against him, than she had done while he was present; for the Truth of which she appealed to Mr. Blifil, who, with great Complaisance, acquiesced entirely in all she said; but excused all the faults of Mr. Western,

To which Blifil immediately agreed.

Mrs. Western then began to express great Confusi|on on the Account of Mr. Blifil, and of the Usage• which he had received from a Family to which he in|tended so much Honour. On this Subject she treated the Folly of her Niece with great Severity; but con|cluded with throwing the whole on her Brother, who she said, was inexcusable to have proceeded so far without better Assurances of his Daughter's Consent •

After much of this Kind of Conversation, which, perhaps, would not greatly entertain the Reader, was it here particularly related, Mr. Blifil took his Leave and returned home, not highly pleased with his Disap|pointment; which, however, the Philosophy which he had acquired from Square, and the Religion infused into him by Thwackum, together with somewhat else taught him to bear rather better than more passionate Lovers bear these Kinds of Evils.

CHAP. IX. The Escape of Sophia.

IT is now Time to look after Sophia; whom the Reader, if he loves her half so well as I do, will rejoice to find escaped from the Clutches of her pas+sionate Father, and from those of her dispassionate Lover.

Twelve Times did the iron Register of Time bea•• on the sonorous Bell-metal, summoning the Ghosts to rise, and walk their nightly Round.—In plaine Language, it was Twelve o' Clock, and all the Fa+mily, as we have said, lay buried in Drink and Sleep except only Mrs. Western, who was deeply engaged in reading a political Pamphlet, and except our He|roine, Page  271 who now softly stole down Stairs, and hav|ing unbarred and unlocked one of the House Doors, sallied forth, and hastened to the Place of Appoint|ment.

Notwithstanding the many pretty Arts, which La|dies sometimes practise, to display their Fears on eve|ry little Occasion, (almost as many as the other Sex uses to conceal theirs) certainly there is a Degree of Courage, which not only becomes a Woman, but is often necessary to enable her to discharge her Duty. It is, indeed, the Idea of Fierceness, and not of Bra|very, which destroys the Female Character: For who can read the Story of the justly celebrated Arria, without conceiving as high an Opinion of her Gentle|ness and Tenderness, as of her Fortitude? At the same Time, perhaps, many a Woman who shrieks at a Mouse, or a Rat, may be capable of poisoning a Husband; or, what is worse, of driving him to poi|son himself.

Sophia, with all the Gentleness which a Woman can have, had all the Spirit which she ought to have. When, therefore, she came to the Place of Appoint|ment, and instead of meeting her Maid, as was agreed, saw a Man ride directly up to her, she neither scream|ed out, nor fainted away: Not that her Pulse then beat with its usual Regularity; for she was at first, under some Surprize and Apprehension: But these were relieved almost as soon as raised, when the Man pulling off his Hat, asked her, in a very submissive Manner,

Sophia could have no possible suspicion of any Fals|hood in this Account: She therefore mounted reso|lutely behind the Fellow, who conveyed her safe to a Town about Five Miles distant, where she had the Satisfaction of finding the good Mrs. Honour: For as the Soul of the Waiting-woman was wrapt up in Page  272 those very Habiliments which used to enwrap her Bo|dy, she could by no Means bring herself to trust them out of her Sight. Upon these, therefore, she kept Guard in Person, while she detached the aforesaid Fellow after her Mistress, having given him all pro|per Instructions.

They now debated what Course to take, in order to avoid the Pursuit of Mr. Western, who, they knew, would send after them in a few Hours. The Lon|don Road had such Charms for Honour, that she was desirous of going on directly; alledging, that as So|phia could not be missed till Eight or Nine the next Morning, her Pursuers would not be able to overtake her, even though they knew which Way she had gone. But Sophia had too much at Stake to venture any Thing to Chance; nor did she dare to trust too much to her tender Limbs, in a Contest which was to be decided only by Swiftness. She resolved therefore, to travel across the Country, for at least Twenty or Thirty Miles, and then to take the direct Road to London. So having hired her Horses to go Twenty Miles one Way, when she intended to go Twenty Miles the other, she set forward with the same Guide, behind whom she had ridden from her Father's House; the Guide having now taken up behind him, in the Room of Sophia, a much heavier, as well as much less lovely Burthen; being, indeed, a huge Portman|teau, well stuffed with those outside Ornaments, by Means of which the fair Honour hoped to gain many Conquests, and, finally, to make her Fortune in Lon|don City.

When they had gone about Two hundred Paces from the Inn, on the London Road, Sophia rode up to the Guide, and, with a Voice much fuller of Ho|ney than was ever that of Anacreon, though his Mouth is supposed to have been a Bee-hive, begged him to take the first Turning which led towards Bri|stol.

Page  273 Reader, I am not superstitious, nor any great Be|liever in modern Miracles. I do not therefore, deliver the following as a certain Truth; for, indeed, I can scarce credit it myself: But the Fidelity of an Histori|an obliges me to relate what hath been confidently as|serted. The Horse, then, on which the Guide rode, is reported to have been so charmed by Sophia's Voice, that he made a full Stop, and exprest an Unwillingness to proceed any farther.

Perhaps, however, the Fact may be true, and less miraculous then it hath been represented; since the natural Cause seems adequate to the Effect: For as the Guide at that Moment desisted from a constant Appli|cation of his armed right Heel, (for, like Hudibras, he wore but one Spur) it is more than possible, that this Omission alone might occasion the Beast to stop, especially as this was very frequent with him at other Times.

But if the Voice of Sophia had really an Effect on the Horse; it had very little on the Rider. He an|swered somewhat surlily,

Sophia finding all her Persuasions had no Effect, be|gan now to add irresistible Charms to her Voice; Charms, which according to the Proverb, makes the old Mare trot, instead of standing still; Charms! to which modern Ages have attributed all that irresistible Force, which the Ancients imputed to perfect Oratory. In a Word, she promised she would reward him to his utmost Expectation.

The Lad was not totally deaf to these Promises; but he disliked their being indefinite: For tho' perhaps he had never heard that Word, yet that in Fact was his Objection.

answered the Lad.—Guide me,' says Sophia

The Bargain being thus struck, the Lad turned a|side into the Bristol Road, and Sophia set forward in Pursuit of Jones, highly contrary to the Remonstran|ces of Mrs. Honour, who had much more Desire to see London, than to see Mr. Jones: For indeed she was not his Friend with her Mistress, as he had been guilty of some Neglect in certain pecuniary Civilities, which are by Custom due to the Waiting-gentlewo|man in all Love Affairs, and more especially in those of a clandestine Kind. This we impute rather to the Carelessness of his Temper, than to any Want of Generosity; but perhaps she derived it from the latter Motive. Certain it is that she hated him very bitterly on that Account, and resolved to take every Oppor|tunity of injuring him with her Mistress. It was therefore highly unlucky for her, that she had gone to the very same Town and Inn whence Jones had started and still more unlucky was she, in having stumbled on the same Guide, and on this accidental Discovery which Sophia had made.

Page  275 Our Travellers arrived at Hambrook* at the Break of Day, where Honour was against her Will charged to enquire the Rout which Mr. Jones had taken. Of this, indeed, the Guide himself could have informed them; but Sophia, I know not for what Reason, ne|ver asked him the Question.

When Mrs. Honour had made her Report from the Landlord, Sophia, with much Difficulty, pro|cured some indifferent Horses, which brought her to the Inn, where Jones had been confined rather by the Misfortune of meeting with a Surgeon, than by hav|ing met with a broken Head.

Here Honour being again charged with a Commis|sion of Enquiry, had no sooner applied herself to the Landlady, and had described the Person of Mr. Jones, than that sagacious Woman began, in the vul|gar Phrase, to smell a Rat. When Sophia therefore entered the Room, instead of answering the Maid, the Landlady addressing herself to the Mistress, began the following Speech.

Page  276— answered the Landlady, embol|dened by the soft Accents of Sophia, and then launch|ed into a long Narrative too tedious to be here set down, in which some Passages dropt, that gave a little Offence to Sophia, and much more to her Waiting-woman, who hence took Occasion to abuse poor Jones to her Mistress the Moment they were alone together, saying,

Sophia did not see his Behaviour in so very disad|vantageous a Light, and was perhaps more pleased with the violent Raptures of his Love (which the Landlady exaggrated as much as she had done every other Circumstance) than she was offended with the rest; and indeed she imputed the whole to the Extrava|gance, or rather Ebullience of his Passion, and to the Openness of his Heart.

This Incident, however, being afterward revived in her Mind, and placed in the most odious Colours by Honour, served to heighten and give Credit to those unlucky Occurrences at Upton, and assisted the Wait|ing-woman in her Endeavours to make her Mistress depart from that Inn without seeing Jones.

The Landlady finding Sophia intended to stay no longer than till her Horses were ready, and that with|out either eating or drinking, soon withdrew; when Ho|nour began to take her Mistress to Task (for indeed she used great Freedom) and after a long Harangue, in which she reminded her of her Intention to go to Page  277London, and gave frequent Hints of the Impropriety of pursuing a young Fellow, she at last concluded with this serious Exhortation:

This Advice to a Lady who had already rode near forty Miles, and in no very agreeable Season, may seem foolish enough. It may be supposed she had well considered and resolved this already; nay, Mrs. Honour, by the Hints she threw out, seemed to think so; and this I doubt not is the Opinion of many Rea|ders, who have, I make no Doubt, been long since well convinced of the Purpose of our Heroine, and have heartily condemned her for it as a wanton Baggage.

But in reality this was not the Case. Sophia had been lately so distracted between Hope and Fear, her Duty and Love to her Father her Hatred to Blifil, her Compassion, and (why should we not confess the Truth) her Love for Jones; which last the Behaviour of her Father, of her Aunt, of every one else, and more particularly of Jones himself, had blown into a Flame, that her Mind was in that confused State, which may be truly said to make us ignorant of what we do, or whither we go, or rather indeed indifferent as to the Consequence of either.

The prudent and sage Advice of her Maid, pro|duced, however, some cool Reflection; and she at length determined to go to Gloucester, and thence to proceed directly to London.

But unluckily, a few Miles before she entered that Town, she met the Hack-Attorney, who, as is be|forementioned, had dined there with Mr. Jones. This Fellow being well known to Mrs. Honour, stopt and spoke to her; of which Sophia at that Time took little Notice, more than to enquire who he was.

But having had a more particular Account from Honour of this Man afterwards at Gloucester, and hear|ing of the great Expedition he usually made in travelling, Page  278 for which (as hath been before observed) he was par|ticularly famous; recollecting likewise, that she had overheard Mrs. Honour inform him, that they were going to Gloucester, she began to fear lest her Father might, by this Fellow's Means, be able to trace her to that City; wherefore if she should there strike into the London Road, she apprehended he would certainly b• able to overtake her. She therefore altered her Re|solution; and having hired Horses to go a Week Journey, a Way which she did not intend to travel she again set forward after a light Refreshment, con+trary to the Desire and earnest Entreaties of her Maid and to the no less vehement Remonstrances of Mrs. Whitefield, who from good Breeding, or perhaps from good Nature (for the poor young Lady appeared much fatigued) press'd her very heartily to stay that Evening at Gloucester.

Having refreshed herself only with some Tea, an• with lying about two Hours on the Bed, while he• Horses were getting ready, she resolutely left Mrs. Whitefield's about eleven at Night, and striking di|rectly into the Worcester Road, within less than four Hours arrived at that very Inn where we last saw he•▪

Having thus traced our Heroine very particularl• back from her Departure, till her Arrival at Upton we shall in a very few Words, bring her Father to th• same Place; who having received the first Scent from the Post-boy, who conducted his Daughter to Ha•|brook, very easily traced her afterwards to Gloucester whence he pursued her to Upton, as he had learn Mr. Jones had taken that Rout (for Partridge, to •• the Squire's Expression, left every where a stro•• Scent behind him) and he doubted not in the least b•Sophia travelled, or, as he phrased it, ran the sam• Way. He used indeed a very coarse Expression which need not be here inserted; as Fox-hunter who alone would understand it, will easily suggest to themselves.