lady; "and I shall be much obliged to you, if you will please to get my apartment ready as soon as possible; for I am resolved to be on horseback again in three hours."

"Why, Susan," cries the landlady," is there a fire lit yet in the Wild-goose?-I am sorry, madam, all my best rooms are full. Several people of the first quality are now in bed. Here's a great young 'squire, and many other great gentlefolks of quality." Susan answered, "That the Irish gentlemen were got into the Wild-goose."

"Was ever any thing like it!" says the mistress;" why the devil would you not keep some of the best rooms for the quality, when you know scarce a day passes without some calling here?—If they be gentlemen, I am certain, when they know it is for her ladyship, they will get up again."

"Not upon my account," says the lady; "I will have no person disturbed for me. If you have a room that is commonly decent, it will serve me very well, though it be never so plain. I beg, madam, you will not give yourself so much trouble on my account." "O madam," cries the other," I have several good rooms for that matter, but none good enough for your honour's ladyship. However, as you are so condescending to take up with the best I have, do, Susan, get a fire in the Rose this minute. Will your ladyship be pleased to go up now, or stay till the fire is lighted!”—“I think, I have sufficiently warmed myself," answered the lady; "so, if you please, I will go now. I am afraid I have kept people, and particularly that gentleman (meaning Partridge), too long in the cold already. Indeed, I cannot bear to think of keeping any person from the fire this dreadful weather."-She then departed with her maid, the landlady marching with two lighted candles before her.

When that good woman returned, the conversation 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 negative 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 echoed by the other post-boy, who was now come in. "She's a true good lady, I warrant her," says he; "for she hath mercy upon dumb creatures; for she asked me every now and then upon the journey, if I did not think she should hurt the horses by riding too fast! and when she came in, she charged me to give them as much corn as ever they would eat."

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. Hussey.* 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 we could not forbear making in this place, where my reader hath seen the loveliness of an affable deportment; and truth will now oblige us to contrast it, by showing the reverse.

CHAPTER IV.

Containing infallible nostrums for procuring universal disesteem and hatred.

THE lady had no sooner laid herself on her pillow, 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, showed 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

* A celebrated mantua-maker in the Strand, famous for setting off the shapes of

women.

done so; for she placed her chair in such a posture, as to occupy almost 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 though the said chicken was then at roost in the stable, and required the several ceremonies of catching, killing, and picking, before it could be brought to the gridiron, my landlady would nevertheless have undertaken to do all within the time; but the guest being unfortunately admitted behind the scenes, must have been witness to the fourberie; the poor woman was, therefore, obliged to confess that she had none in the house; "but, madam," said she, "I can get any kind of mutton in an instant from the butcher's.' "Do you think, then," answered the waiting-gentlewoman, "that I have the stomach of a horse, to eat mutton at this time of night? Sure you people that keep inns imagine your betters are like yourselves. Indeed, I expect to get nothing at this wretched place. I wonder my lady would stop at it. I suppose none but tradesmen and graziers ever call here." The landlady fired at this indignity offered to her house; however, she suppressed her temper, and contented herself with saying, "Very good quality frequented it, she thanked Heaven !"-"Don't tell me," cries the other,

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of quality! I believe I know more of people of quality than such as you.- But, prithee, without troubling me with any of your impertinence, do tell me what I can have for supper; for though I cannot eat horse-flesh, I am really hungry.”—“Why truly, madam," answered the landlady, 66 you could not take me again at such a disadvantage; for I must confess I have nothing in the house, unless a cold piece of beef, which, indeed, a gentleman's footman and the post-boy have almost cleared to the bone."—"Woman," said Mrs. Abigail (so for shortness we will call her), "I entreat you not to make me sick. If I had fasted a month, I could not eat what had been touched by the fingers of such fellows : Is there nothing neat or decent to be had in this horrid place?" "What think you of some

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eggs and bacon, madam ?" said the landlady. "Are your eggs new laid? Are you certain they were laid to-day? And let me have the bacon cut very nice and thin; for I can't endure any thing that's gross. Prithee, try if you can do a little tolerably for once, and don't think you have a farmer's wife, or some of those creatures in the house. The landlady began then to handle her knife; but the other stopped her, saying, "Good woman, I must insist upon your first washing your hands; for I am extremely nice, and have been always used from my cradle to have every thing in the most elegant manner.

The landlady, who governed herself with much difficulty, began now the necessary preparations; for as to Susan, she was utterly rejected, and with 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 though she literally kept it within her teeth, yet there it muttered many "marry-come-ups, as good flesh and blood as yourself;" with other such indignant phrases.

While the supper was preparing, Mrs. Abigail began to lament she had not ordered a fire in the parlour; but, she said, that was now too late. "However," said she, "I have novelty to recommend a kitchen; for I do not believe I ever ate in one before." Then turning to the post-boys, she asked them, "Why they were not in the stable with their horses? If I must eat my hard fare here, madam," cries she to the landlady, "I beg the kitchen may be kept clear, that I may not be surrounded with all the blackguards in town. As for you, sir," says she to Partridge, "you look somewhat like a gentleman, and may sit still, if you please, I don't desire to disturb any body but mob."

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'Yes, yes, madam," cries Partridge, I am a gentleman, I do assure you, and I am not so easily to be disturbed: Non semper vox casualis est verbo nominativus." This Latin she took to be some affront, and answered, " You may be a gentleman, sir; but you don't show yourself as

one, to talk Latin to a woman. Partridge made a gentle reply, and concluded with more Latin; upon which she tossed 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 ate very heartily, for so delicate a person; and while a second course of the same was by order preparing, she said, " And so, madam, you tell me your house is frequented by people of great quality?"

The landlady answered in the affirmative, saying, "There were a great many very good quality and gentlefolks in it now. There's young 'Squire Allworthy, as that gentleman there knows.'

"And pray who is this young gentleman of quality, this young 'Squire Allworthy?" said Abigail.

"Who should he be," answered Partridge," but the son and heir of the great 'Squire Allworthy, of Somersetshire?"

"Upon my word," said she, "you tell me strange news ; for I know Mr. Allworthy of Somersetshire very well, and I know he hath no son alive."

The landlady pricked up her ears at this, and Partridge looked a little confounded. However, after a short hesitation, he answered, "Indeed, madam, it is true, every body doth not know him to be 'Squire Allworthy's son; for he was never married to his mother; but his son he certainly is, and will be his heir too, as certainly as his name is Jones." At that word, Abigail let drop the bacon, which she was conveying to her mouth, and cried out, "You surprise me, sir! Is it possible Mr. Jones should be now in the house?""Quare non ?" answered Partridge, it is possible, and it is certain."

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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.