tell you, sister, I am not so ignorant as you think me. I know you would have women above the law; but it is all a lie; I heard his lordship say at 'size, that no one is above the law. But this of yours is Hanover law, I suppose.

Mr. Western, said she, I think you daily improve in ignorance. I protest you are grown an arrant bear. No more a bear than yourself, sister Western, said the squire. Pox! you may talk of your civility an you will; I am sure you never show any to me. I am no bear; no, nor no dog neither, though I know somebody, that is something that begins with a b -; but, pox! I will show you I have got more good manners than some folks.

Mr. Western, answered the lady, you may say what you please; Je vous méprise de tout mon cœur. I shall not therefore be angry. Besides, as my cousin with that odious Irish name justly says, I have that regard for the honour and true interest of my family, and that concern for my niece, who is a part of it, that I have resolved to go to town myself upon this occasion; for, indeed, indeed, brother, you are not a fit minister to be employed at a polite court. Greenland! Greenland! should always be the scene of the tramontane negociation.

I thank Heaven, cries the squire, I don't understand you now. You are got to your Hanoverian linguo. However, I'll show you I scorn to be behind-hand in civility with you; and as you are not angry for what I have said, so I am not angry for what you have said. Indeed, I have always thought it a folly for relations to quarrel; and if they do now and then give a hasty word, why, people should give and take: for my part, I never bear malice; and I take it very kind of you to go up to London; for I never was there but twice in my life, and then I did not stay above a fortnight at a time;

and to be sure, I can't be expected to know much of the streets and the volks in that time. I never denied that you know'd all these matters better than I. For me to dispute that, would be all as one as for you to dispute the management of a pack of dogs, or the finding a hare sitting, with me. Which I promise you, says she, I never will. Well, and I promise you, returned he, that I never will dispute t'other.

Here then a league was struck (to borrow a phrase from the lady) between the contending parties; and now, the parson arriving, and the horses being ready, the squire departed, having promised his sister to follow her advice; and she prepared to follow him the next day.

But having communicated these matters to the parson on the road, they both agreed that the prescribed formalities might very well be dispensed with; and the squire, having changed his mind, proceeded in the manner we have already seen.

CHAPTER VII.

In which various misfortunes befal poor Jones.

AFFAIRS were in the aforesaid situation, when Mrs. Honour arrived at Mrs. Miller's, and called Jones out from the company, as we have before seen; with whom, when she found herself alone, she began as follows:

O, my dear sir! how shall I get spirits to tell you: you are undone, sir! and my poor lady's undone, and I am undone!-Hath any thing happened to Sophia? cries Jones, staring like a madman. All that is bad, cries Honour: O, I shall never get such another lady! O that I should ever

live to see this day!-At these words, Jones turned pale as ashes, trembled, and stammered; but Honour went on: O, Mr. Jones! I have lost my lady for ever.-How! what? for Heaven's sake tell me. O my dear Sophia!-You may well call her so, said Honour; she was the dearest lady to me. I shall never have such another place.-D-n your place, cries Jones; where is? what, what is become of my Sophia?-Ay, to be sure, cries she, servants may be d--n'd. It signifies nothing what becomes of them, though they are turned away, and ruined ever so much. To be sure, they are not flesh and blood like other people. No, to be sure, it signifies nothing what becomes of them.-If you have any pity, any compassion, cries Jones, I beg you will instantly tell me what hath happened to Sophia?— To be sure, I have more pity for you than you have for me, answered Honour. I don't d-n you because you have lost the sweetest lady in the world. To be sure, you are worthy to be pitied, and I am worthy to be pitied too; for to be sure, if ever there was a good mistress What hath happened? cries Jones, in almost a raving fit. What? What! said Honour; why, the worst that could have happened both for you and for me. father is come to town, and hath carried her away from us both. Here Jones fell on his knees in thanksgiving that it was no worse.-No worse! repeated Honour; what could be worse for either of us? He carried her off, swearing she should marry Mr. Blifil: that's for your comfort; and for poor me, I am turned out of doors.-Indeed, Mrs. Honour, answered Jones, you frightened me out of my wits. I imagined some most dreadful sudden accident had happened to Sophia; something, compared to which, even the seeing her married to Blifil would be a trifle: but while there is life, there are

Her

hopes, my dear Honour. Women, in this land of liberty, cannot be married by actual brutal force.To be sure, sir, said she, that's true. There may be some hopes for you; but, alack-a-day! what hopes are there for poor me? And to be sure, sir, you must be sensible I suffer all this upon your ac count. All the quarrel the squire hath to me is for taking your part, as I have done, against Mr. Blifil. Indeed, Mrs. Honour, answered he, I am sensible of my obligations to you, and will leave nothing in my power undone to make you amends. -Alas! sir, said she, what can make a servant amends for the loss of one place, but the getting another altogether as good?-Do not despair, Mrs. Honour, said Jones: I hope to reinstate you again in the same.-Alacka-day, sir! said she, how can I flatter myself with such hopes, when I know it is a thing impossible; for the squire is so set against me: and yet, if you should ever have my lady-as to be sure I now hopes heartily you will; for you are a generous, good-natured gentleman, and I am sure you loves her, and to be sure she loves you as dearly as her own soul: it is a matter in vain to deny it; because as why, every body, that is in the least acquainted with my lady, must see it; for, poor dear lady, she can't dissemble; and if two people who loves one another a'n't happy, why, who should be so? Happiness don't always depend upon what people has; besides, my lady has enough for both. To be sure, therefore, as one may say, it would be all the pity in the world to keep two such loviers asunder; nay, I am convinced, for my part, you will meet together at last; for if it is to be, there is no preventing it. If a marriage is made in Heaven, all the justices of peace upon earth can't break it off. To be sure, I wishes that Parson Supple had but a little more spirit to tell the squire of his wickedness

in endeavouring to force his daughter contrary to her liking: but then, his whole dependence is on the squire; and so the poor gentleman, though he is a very religious good sort of a man, and talks of the badness of such doings behind the squire's back, yet he dares not say his soul is his own to his face. Το be sure, I never saw him make so bold as just now : I was afeard the squire would have struck him. I would not have your honour be melancholy, sir, nor despair-things may go better as long as you are sure of my lady; and that I am certain you may be; for she never will be brought to consent to marry any other man. Indeed, I am terribly afeard the squire will do her a mischief in his passion; for he is a prodigious passionate gentleman and I am afeard too the poor lady will be brought to break her heart; for she is as tender-hearted as ‘a chicken : it is a pity, methinks, she had not a little of my courage. If I was in love with a young man, and my father offered to lock me up, I'd tear his eyes out, but I'd come at him: but then there's a great fortune in the case, which it is in her father's power either to give her or not; that, to be sure, may make some difference.

:

Whether Jones gave strict attention to all the foregoing harangue, or whether it was for want of any vacancy in the discourse, I cannot determine; but he never once attempted to answer, nor did she once stop, till Partridge came running into the room, and informed him that the great lady was upon the stairs.

Nothing could equal the dilemma to which Jones was now reduced. Honour knew nothing of any acquaintance that subsisted between him and Lady Bellaston; and she was almost the last person in the world to whom he would have communicated it. In this hurry and distress, he took (as is common