the Neighbours thereabouts have very fearful Notions about him. It runs ftrangely in my Head, that it must have been fome Spirit, who, perhaps, might be fent to forewarn us: And who knows, but all that Matter which he told us, of his going to Fight, and of his being taken Prifoner, and of the great Danger he was in of being hanged, might be intended as a Warning to us, confidering what we are going about: Befides, I dreamt of nothing all laft Night, but of Fighting; and methought the Blood ran out of my Nofe, as Liquor out of a Tap. Indeed, Sir, infandum, Regina, jubes renovare Dolorem."

Thy Story, Partridge,' anfwered Jones, is almoft as ill applied as thy Latin. Nothing can be more likely to happen than Death to Men who go into Battle. Perhaps we shall both fall in it,--and what then?" What then!' replied Partridge; Why then there is an End of us, is there not? When I am gone, all is over with me. What matters the Cause to me, or who gets the Victory, if I am killed? I fhall never enjoy any Advantage from it. What are all the ringing of Bells, and Bonfires, to one that is fix Foot under Ground? There will be an End of poor Partridge. poor Partridge,' cries fones,

And an End of there must be

one Time or other. If you love Latin, I will

repeat you fome fine Lines out of Horace, which would infpire Courage into a Coward.

Dulce & decorum eft pro patria mori.
Mors&fugacem perfequitur virum
Nec parcit imbellis juventa
Poplitibus, timidoque tergo.

• I wish you would conftrue them,” cries Partridge for Horace is a hard Author, and I cannot understand as you repeat them."

I will repeat you a bad Imitation, or rather Paraphrafe of my own,' faid Jones; for I " am but an indifferent Poet.

• Who would not die in his dear Country's Caufe?

* Since, if base Fear his daftard Step withdraws,

From Death he cannot fly :-One common
Grave

Receives, at laft, the Coward and the Brave.'

That's very certain,' cries Partridge. • Ay, fure, Mors omnibus communis: But there is a < great Difference between dying in one's Bed a great many Years hence, like a good Chriftian, with all our Friends crying about us, and being 'fhot To-day or To-morrow, like a mad Dog; or, perhaps, hacked in twenty Pieces with a Sword, and that too before we have repented ⚫ of all our Sins. O Lord have Mercy upon us! To be fure, the Soldiers are a wicked Kind of • People. I never loved to have any Thing to do with them. I could hardly bring myself ever to look upon them as Chriftians. There is nothing but Curfing and Swearing among them. I wish your Honour would repent: I • heartily wish you would repent, before it is too late; and not think of going among them.-— • Evil Communication corrupts good Manners. That is my principal Reason. For as for that Matter, I am no more afraid than another 'Man, not I; as to Matter of that. I know all VOL. III. • human

H

Book XII. human Flesh muft die; but yet a Man may live many Years for all that. Why I am a middle-aged Man now, and yet I may live a great Number of Years. I have read of several who have lived to be above a hundred, and fome a great deal above a hundred. Not that I hope, I mean that I promise myself, to live to any fuch Age as that neither. But if it be only to Eighty or Ninety: Heaven be praised, that is a great Ways off yet; and I am not afraid of dying then, no more than another Man: But, furely, to tempt Death before a Man's Time is come, feems to me downright '. Wickedness and Prefumption, Befides, if it was to do any Good indeed; but let the Cause C be what it will, what mighty Matter of Good 'can two People do? And, for my Part, I un'derstand nothing of it. I never fired off a Gun ' above ten Times in my Life; and then it was not charged with Bullets. And for the Sword, I never learned to fence, and know nothing of the Matter. And then there are thofe Cannons, which certainly it must be thought the highest Prefumption to go in the Way of; and no-body but a Madman-I afk Pardon; upon my Soul, I meant no Harm: I beg I may not throw your Honour into another Paffion.'

6

.

Be under no Apprehenfion, Partridge,' cries Jones; I am now fo well convinced of thy Cowardice, that thou couldst not provoke me on any Account.' Your Honour,' answered he, may call me Coward, or any thing else you pleafe. If loving to fleep in a whole Skin makes a Man a Coward, non immunes ab illis malis fumus. I never read in my Grammar, that a Man can't be a good Man without fighting.

i.

ing. Vir bonus eft quis? Qui confulta Patrum, qui leges juraque fervat. Not a Word of Fighting; and I am fure the Scripture is fo much against it, that a Man fhall never perfuade me he is a good Chriftian, while he sheds Chriftian'blood.'

J

CHA P. IV.

The Adventure of a Beggar-man,

UST as Partridge had uttered that good and pious Doctrine, with which the laft Chapter concluded, they arrived at another Crofs-way, when a lame Fellow in Rags asked them for Alms; upon which Partridge gave him a fevere Rebuke, faying, Every Parifh ought to keep their own Poor.' Jones then fell a laughing, and afked Partridge, if he was not afhamed, with fo much Charity in his Mouth, to have no Charity in his Heart. Your Religion," fays he, ferves you only for an Excufe for your Faults, but is no Incentive to your Virtue. Can any • Man who is really a Christian abstain from relieving one of his Brethren in fuch a miferable • Condition?' And at the fame time putting his Hand in his Pocket, he gave the poor Object a Shilling.

6

Mafter,' cries the Fellow, after thanking him, I have a curious Thing here in my Pocket, which I found about two Miles off, if your Worship will pleafe to buy it. I fhould not venture to pull it out to every one; but as you are fo good a Gentleman, and fo kind to the Poor, you won't fufpect a Man of being a Thief only because he is poor.' He then pulled H 2

out

out a little gilt Pocket-Book, and delivered it into the Hands of Jones.

Jones prefently opened it, and (guess, Reader, what he felt,) faw in the first Page the Words Sophia Western, written by her own fair Hand. He no fooner read the Name, than he preft it close to his Lips; nor could he avoid falling into fome very frantic Raptures, notwithstanding his Company; but, perhaps, these very Raptures made him forget he was not alone.

While ones was kiffing and mumbling the Book, as if he had an excellent brown butter'd Cruft in his Mouth, or as if he had really been a Bookworm, or an Author, who had nothing to eat but his own Works, a Piece of Paper fell from its Leaves to the Ground, which Partridge took up, and delivered to Jones, who prefently perceived it to be a Bank-Bill. It was, indeed, the very Bill which Western had given his Daughter, the Night before her Departure; and a few would have jumped to purchase it at five Shillings lefs than 100%.

The Eyes of Partridge sparkled at this News, which Jones now proclaimed aloud; and fo did (tho' with fomewhat a different Afpect) those of the poor Fellow who had found the Book; and who (I hope from a Principle of Honefty) bad never opened it: But we fhould not deal honeftly by the Reader, if we omitted to inform hiin of Circumftance, which may be here a little material, viz. That the Fellow could not read.

Jones, who had felt nothing but pure Joy and Transport from the finding the Book, was affected with a Mixture of Concern at this new Difcovery: For his Imagination, inftantly fuggefted to him, that the Owner of the Bill might poffibly

want