cumstances with which the reader hath already been acquainted, and at last concluded with her husband's confession of his guilt.

Whether she had forgiven him or no, I will not venture to determine; but it is certain, she was an unwilling witness in this cause; and it is probable, from certain other reasons, would never have been brought to depose as she did, had not Mrs Wilkins, with great art, fished all out of her, at her own house, and had she not indeed made promises in Mr Allworthy's name, that the punishment of her husband should not be such as might any wise affect his family. Partridge still persisted in asserting his innocence, though he admitted he had made the above mentioned confession; which he, however, endeavoured to account for, by protesting that he was forced into it by the continued importunity she used, who vowed, that as she was sure of his guilt, she would never leave tormenting him till he had owned it, and faithfully promised, that, in such case, she would never mention it to him more. Hence, he said, he had been induced falsely to confess himself guilty, though he was innocent, and that he believed he should have confessed a murder from the same motive. Mrs Partridge could not bear this imputation with patience; and having no other remedy, in the present place, but tears, she called forth a plentiful assistance from them, and then addressing herself to Mr Allworthy, she said, (or rather cried,) "May it please your worship, there never was any poor woman so injured as I am by that base man; for this is not the only instance of his falsehood to me. No, may it please your worship, he hath injured my bed many's the good time and often. I could have put up with his drunkenness and neglect of his business, if he had not broke one of the sacred commandiments. Besides, if it had been out of doors, I had not mattered it so much; but with my own servant, in my own house, under my own roof; to defile my own chaste bed, which, to be sure, he hath with his beastly stinking whores-Yes, you villain, you have defiled my own bed, you have; and then you have charged me with bullocking you into owning the truth.It is very likely, an't please your worship, that I should bullock him. I have marks enow about my body to shew of his cruelty to me.-If you had been a man, you villain, you would have scorned to injure a woman in that manner; but you an't half a man, you know it. Nor have you been half a husband to me. You need run after whores, you need, when I'm sure--And since he provokes me, I am ready, an't please your worship, to take my bodily oath, that I found them a-bed together.-What, you have forgot, I suppose, when you beat me into a fit, and made the blood run down my forehead, because I only civilly taxed you with your adultery! but I can piove it by all my neighbours.

You have almost broke my heart, you have, you have!"

Here Mr Allworthy interrupted, and begged her to be pacified, promising her that she should have justice; then turning to Partridge, who stood aghast, one half of his wits being hurried away by surprise, and the other half by fear, he said, he was sorry to see there was so wicked a man in the world. He assured him, that his prevaricating and lying backward and forward was a great aggravation of his guilt; for which, the only atonement he could make was by confession and repentance. He exhorted him, therefore, to begin by immediately confessing the fact, and not to persist in denying what was so plainly proved against him, even by his own wife.

Here, reader, I beg your patience a moment, while I make a just compliment to the great wisdom and sagacity of our law, which refuses to admit the evidence of a wife for or against her husband. This, says a certain learned author, who, I believe, was never quoted before in any but a law-book, would be the means of creating an eternal dissention between them. It would, indeed, be the means of much perjury, and of much whipping, fining, imprisoning, transporting, and hanging.

Partridge stood a while silent, till being bid to speak, he said, he had already spoken the truth, and appealed to Heaven for his innocence, and lastly, to the girl herself, whom he desired his worship immediately to send for; for he was ignorant, or at least pretended to be so, that she had left that part of the country.

Mr Allworthy, whose natural love of justice, joined to his coolness of temper, made him always a most patient magistrate in hearing all the witnesses which an accused person could produce in his defence, agreed to defer his final determination of this matter, till the arrival of Jenny, for whom he immediately dispatched a messenger; and then having recommended peace between Partridge and his wife, (though he addressed himself chiefly to the wrong person,) he appointed them to attend again the third day; for he had sent Jenny a whole day's journey from his own house.

At the appointed time the parties all assem bled, when the messenger returning brought word, that Jenny was not to be found; for that she had left her habitation a few days before, in company with a recruiting officer.

Mr Allworthy then declared that the evidence of such a slut as she appeared to be, would have deserved no credit ; but he said he could not help thinking that had she been present, and would have declared the truth, she must have confirm ed what so many circumstances, together with his own confession, and the declaration of his wife, that she had caught her husband in the fact, did sufficiently prove. He therefore once more exhorted Partridge to contèss; but he still

avowing his innocence, Mr Allworthy declared himself satisfied of his guilt, and that he was too bad a man to receive any encouragement from him. He therefore deprived him of his annuity, and recommended repentance to him, on account of another world, and industry to maintain himself and his wife in this.

There were not, perhaps, many more unhappy persons than poor Partridge. He had lost the best part of his income by the evidence of his wife, and yet was daily upbraided by her for having, among other things, been the occasion of depriving her of that benefit; but such was his fortune, and he was obliged to submit to it. Though I called him poor Partridge, in the last paragraph, I would have the reader rather impute that epithet to the compassion of my temper, than conceive it to be any declaration of his innocence. Whether he was innocent or not, will perhaps appear hereafter; but if the historic muse hath entrusted me with any secrets, I will by no means be guilty of discover ing them till she shall give me leave.

Here, therefore, the reader must suspend his curiosity. Certain it is, that whatever was the truth of the case, there was evidence more than sufficient to convict him before Allworthy; indeed much less would have satisfied a bench of justices on an order of bastardy; and yet, notwithstanding the positiveness of Mrs Partridge, who would have taken the sacrament upon the matter, there is a possibility that the schoolmaster was entirely innocent; for though it appeared clear, on comparing the time when Jenny departed from Little Baddington, with that of her delivery, that she had there conceived this infant; yet it by no means followed, of necessity, that Partridge must have been its father: for, to omit other particulars, there was in the same house a lad near eighteen, between whom and Jenny there had subsisted sufficient intimacy to found a reasonable suspicion; and yet, so blind is jealousy, this circumstance never once entered into the head of the enraged wife. Whether Partridge repented or not, according to Mr Allworthy's advice, is not so apparent. Certain it is, that his wife repented heartily of the evidence she had given against him; especially when she found Mrs Deborah had deceived her, and refused to make any application to Mr Allworthy on her behalf. She had, however, somewhat better success with Mrs Blifil, who was, as the reader must have perceived, a much better tempered woman; and very kindly undertook to solicit her brother to restore the annuity. In which, though good nature might have some share, yet a stronger and more natural motive will appear in the next chapter.

These solicitations were nevertheless unsuccessful; for though Mr Allworthy did not think,

with some late writers, that mercy consists only in punishing offenders; yet he was as far from thinking that it is proper to this excellent quality to pardon great criminals wantonly, without any reason whatever. Any doubtfulness of the fact, or any circumstance of mitigation, was never disregarded; but the petitions of an offender, or the intercessions of others, did not in the least affect him. In a word, he never pardoned, because the offender himself, or his friends, were unwilling that he should be punished.

Partridge and his wife were therefore both obliged to submit to their fate, which was indeed severe enough; for so far was he from doubling his industry on the account of his lessened income, that he did in a manner abandon himself to despair; and as he was by nature indolent, that vice now increased upon him, by which means he lost the little school he had; so that neither his wife nor himself would have had any bread to eat, had not the charity of some good Christian interposed, and provided them with what was just sufficient for their sustenance.

As this support was conveyed to them by an unknown hand, they imagined, and so, I doubt not, will the reader, that Mr Allworthy himself was their secret benefactor, who, though he would not openly encourage vice, could yet privately relieve the distresses of the vicious themselves, when these became too exquisite and disproportionate to their demerit. În which light their wretchedness appeared now to Fortune herself; for she at length took pity on this miserable couple, and considerably lessened the wretchedness of Partridge, by putting a final end to that of his wife, who soon after caught the small-pox, and died.

The justice which Mr Allworthy had executed on Partridge, at first met with universal approbation; but no sooner had he felt its consequences, than his neighbours began to relent, and to compassionate his case; and presently after, to blame that as rigour and severity, which they before called justice. They now exclaimed against punishing in cold blood, and sang forth the praises of mercy and forgiveness.

These cries were considerably increased by the death of Mrs Partridge, which, though owing to the distemper above mentioned, which is no consequence of poverty or distress, many were not ashamed to impute to Mr Allworthy's severity, or, as they now termed it, cruelty.

Partridge, having now lost his wife, his school, and his annuity, and the unknown person ha ving now discontinued the last-mentioned charity, resolved to change the scene, and left the country, where he was in danger of starving with the universal compassion of all his neighbours.

CHAP. VII.

A short sketch of that felicity which prudent couples may extract from hatred; with a short apology for those people who overlook imperfections in their friends.

THOUGH the captain had effectually demolished poor Partridge, yet had he not reaped the harvest he hoped for, which was to turn the foundling out of Mr Allworthy's house.

On the contrary, that gentleman grew every day fonder of little Tommy, as if he intended to counterbalance his severity to the father with extraordinary fondness and affection towards the

son.

This a good deal soured the captain's temper, as did all the other daily instances of Mr Allworthy's generosity; for he looked on all such largesses to be diminutions of his own wealth.

In this, we have said, he did not agree with his wife; nor, indeed, in any thing else: for though an affection placed on the understanding is, by many wise persons, thought more durable than that which is founded on beauty, yet it happened otherwise in the present case. Nay, the understandings of this couple were their principal bone of contention, and one great cause of many quarrels which from time to time arose between them; and which at last ended, on the side of the lady, in a sovereign contempt for her husband; and on the husband's, in an utter abhorrence of his wife.

As these had both exercised their talents chiefly in the study of divinity, this was, from their first acquaintance, the most common topic of conversation between them. The captain, like a well-bred man, had, before marriage, always given up his opinion to that of the lady; and this, not in the clumsy awkward manner of a conceited blockhead, who, while he civilly yields to a superior in argument, is desirous of being still known to think himself in the right. The captain, on the contrary, though one of the proudest fellows in the world, so absolutely yielded the victory to his antagonist, that she, who had not the least doubt of his sincerity, retired always from the dispute, with an admiration of her own understanding, and a love for his.

But though this complaisance to one whom the captain thoroughly despised, was not so uneasy to him, as it would have been, had any hopes of preferment made it necessary to shew the same submission to a Hoadley, or to some other of great reputation in the science; yet even this cost him too much to be endured without some motive. Matrimony, therefore, having removed all such motives, he grew weary of this condescension, and began to treat the opinions of his wife with that haughtiness and insolence, which none but those who deserve some contempt them

selves can bestow, and those only who deserve no contempt can bear.

When the first torrent of tenderness was over, and when, in the calm and long interval between the fits, reason began to open the eyes of the lady, and she saw this alteration of behaviour in the captain, who, at length, answered all her arguments only with pish and pshaw, she was far from enduring the indignity with a tame submission. Indeed it at first so highly provoked her, that it might have produced some tragical event, had it not taken a more harmless turn, by filling her with the utmost contempt for her husband's understanding, which somewhat qualified her hatred towards him; though of this likewise she had a pretty moderate share.

The captain's hatred to her was of a purer kind; for as to any imperfections in her knowledge or understanding, he no more despised her for them than for her not being six feet high. In his opinion of the female sex, he exceeded the moroseness of Aristotle himself: he looked on a woman as on an animal of domestic use, of somewhat higher consideration than a cat, since her offices were of rather more importance; but the difference between these two was, in his estimation, so small, that, in his marriage contracted with Mr Allworthy's lands and tenements, it would have been pretty equal which of them he had taken into the bargain. And yet so tender was his pride, that it felt the contempt which his wife now began to express towards him; and this, added to the surfeit he had before taken of her love, created in him a degree of disgust and abhorrence perhaps hardly to be exceeded.

One situation only of the marriage state is excluded from pleasure; and that is, a state of indifference. But as many of my readers, I hope, know what an exquisite delight there is in conveying pleasure to a beloved object, so some few, I am afraid, may have experienced the satisfaction of tormenting one we hate. It is, I apprehend, to come at this latter pleasure, that we see both sexes often give up that ease in marriage, which they might otherwise possess, though their mate was never so disagreeable to them. Hence the wife often puts on fits of love and jealousy, nay, even denies herself any pleasure, to disturb and prevent those of her husband; and he again, in return, puts frequent restraints on himself, and stays at home in company which he dislikes, in order to confine his wife to what she equally detests. Hence too must flow those tears which a widow sometimes so plentifully sheds over the ashes of a husband, with whom she led a life of constant disquiet and turbulency, and whom now she can never hope to torment any more.

But if ever any couple enjoyed this pleasure, it was at present experienced by the captain and his lady. It was always a sufficient reason to either of them to be obstinate in any opinion,

that the other had previously asserted the contrary. If the one proposed any amusement, the other constantly objected to it: they never loved or hated, commended or abused, the same person. And for this reason, as the captain looked with an evil eye on the little foundling, his wife began now to caress it almost equally with her own child.

The reader will be apt to conceive, that this behaviour between the husband and wife did not greatly contribute to Mr Allworthy's repose, as it tended so little to that serene happiness which he had designed for all three, from this alliance: but the truth is, though he might be a little disappointed in his sanguine expectations, yet he was far from being acquainted with the whole matter; for as the captain was, from certain obvious reasons, much on his guard before him, the lady was obliged, for fear of her brother's displeasure, to pursue the same conduct. In fact, it is possible for a third person to be very intimate, nay even to live long in the same house with a married couple, who have any tolerable discretion, and not even guess at the sour sentiments which they bear to each other: for though the whole day may be sometimes too short for hatred, as well as for love; yet the many hours which they naturally spend together apart from all observers, furnish people of tolerable moderation, with such ample opportunity for the enjoyment of either passion, that if they love, they can support being a few hours in company without toying, or if they hate, without spitting in each other's faces.

It is possible, however, that Mr Allworthy saw enough to render him a little uneasy; for we are not always to conclude, that a wise man is not hurt, because he doth not cry out and lament himself, like those of a childish or effeminate temper. But indeed it is possible he might see some faults in the captain without any uneasiness at all: for men of true wisdom and goodness are contented to take persons and things as they are, without complaining of their imperfections, or attempting to amend them. They can see a fault in a friend, a relation, or an acquaintance, without ever mentioning it to the parties themselves, or to any others; and this often without lessening their affection. Indeed, unless great discernment be tempered with this over-looking disposition, we ought never to contract friendship but with a degree of folly which we can deceive: for I hope my friends will pardon me, when I declare, I know none of them without a fault; and I should be sorry if I could imagine, I had any friend who could not see mine. For giveness, of this kind, we give and demand in turn. It is an exercise of friendship, and perhaps none of the least pleasant. And this forgiveness we must bestow, without desire of amendment. There is, perhaps, no surer mark of folly, than an attempt to correct the natural infirmities of those we love. The finest compo

sition of human nature, as well as the finest china, may have a flaw in it; and this, I am afraid, in either case, is equally incurable; though, nevertheless, the pattern may remain of the highest value.

Upon the whole, then, Mr Allworthy certainly saw some imperfections in the captain; but as this was a very artful man, and eternally upon his guard before him, these appeared to him no more than blemishes in a good character; which his goodness made him overlook, and his wisdom prevented him from discovering to the captain himself. Very different would have been his sentiments, had he discovered the whole; which, perhaps, would in time have been the case, had the husband and wife long continued this kind of behaviour to each other; but this kind fortune took effectual means to prevent, by forcing the captain to do that which rendered him again dear to his wife, and restored all her tenderness and affection towards him.

CHAP. VIII.

A receipt to regain the lost affections of a wife, which hath never been known to fail in the most desperate cases.

THE captain was made large amends for the unpleasant minutes which he passed in the conversation of his wife, (and which were as few as he could contrive to make them,) by the pleasant meditations he enjoyed when alone.

These meditations were entirely employed on Mr Allworthy's fortune: for, first, he exercised much thought in calculating, as well as he could, the exact value of the whole; which calculations he often saw occasion to alter in his own favour: and secondly, and chiefly, he pleased himself with intended alterations in the house and gardens, and in projecting many other schemes, as well for the improvement of the estate, as of the grandeur of the place. For this purpose he applied himself to the studies of architecture and gardening, and read over many books on both these subjects; for these sciences, indeed, cmployed his whole time, and formed his only amusement. He, at last, completed a most excellent plan; and very sorry we are that it is not in our power to present it to our reader, since, even the luxury of the present age, I believe, would hardly match it. It had, indeed, in a superlative degree, the two principal ingredients which serve to recommend all great and noble designs of this nature; for it required an immoderate expence to execute, and a vast length of time to bring it to any sort of perfection. The former of these, the immense wealth of which the captain supposed Mr Allworthy possessed, and which he thought himself sure of inheriting, promised very effectually to supply; and the latter, the soundness of his own constitution, and

his time of life, which was only what is called middle age, removed all apprehension of his not living to accomplish.

Nothing was wanting to enable him to enter upon the immediate execution of this plan, but the death of Mr Allworthy; in calculating which he had employed much of his own algebra, besides purchasing every book extant that treats of the value of lives, reversions, &c. From all which he satisfied himself, that as he had every day a chance of this happening, so had he more than an even chance of its happening within a few years.

But while the captain was one day busied in deep contemplations of this kind, one of the most unlucky, as well as unseasonable accidents, happened to him. The utmost malice of fortune could, indeed, have contrived nothing so cruel, so mal-a-propos, so absolutely destructive to all his schemes. In short, not to keep the reader in long suspense, just at the very instant when his heart was exulting in meditations on the happiness which would accrue to him by Mr Allworthy's death, he himself-died of an apoplexy.

This unfortunately befel the captain as he was taking his evening walk by himself, so that nobody was present to lend him any assistance, if indeed any assistance could have preserved him. He took, therefore, measure of that proportion of soil which was now become adequate to all his future purposes, and he lay dead on the ground, a great (though not a living) example

of the truth of that observation of Horace :

"Tu secanda marmora

Locas sub ipsum funus: et sepulchri
Immemor, struis domos."

Which sentiment, I shall thus give to the English reader: "You provide the noblest materials for building, when a pick-axe and a spade are only necessary; and build houses of five hundred by a hundred feet, forgetting that of six by two."

CHAP. IX.

A proof of the infallibility of the foregoing receipt, in the lamentations of the widow; with other suitable decorations of death, such as physicians, &c. and an epitaph in the true style.

MR ALLWORTHY, his sister, and another lady, were assembled at the accustomed hour in the supper-room, where having waited a considerable time longer than usual, Mr Allworthy first declared, he began to grow uneasy at the captain's stay, (for he was always most punctual at his meals;) and gave orders that the bell should be rung without the doors, and especially to

wards those walks which the captain was wont to use.

All these summonses proving ineffectual, (for the captain had, by perverse accident, betaken himself to a new walk that evening,) Mrs Blifil declared she was seriously frightened. Upon which the other lady, who was one of her most intimate acquaintance, and who well knew the true state of her affections, endeavoured all she could to pacify her; telling her-to be sure she could not help being uneasy; but that she should hope the best; that, perhaps, the sweetness of the evening had enticed the captain to go farther than his usual walk; or he might be detained at some neighbour's. Mrs Blifil answered, No; she was sure some accident had befallen him; for that he would never stay out without sending her word, as he must know how uneasy it would make her. The other lady, having no other arguments to use, betook herself to the entreaties usual on such occasions, and begged her not to frighten herself, for it might be of very ill consequence to her own health; and, filling out a very large glass of wine, advised, and at last prevailed with her

to drink it.

Mr Allworthy now returned into the parlour; for he had been himself in search after the captain. His countenance sufficiently shewed the consternation he was under, which indeed had a good deal deprived him of speech; but as grief operates variously on different minds, so the same apprehension which depressed his voice, elevated that of Mrs Blifil. She now be gan to bewail herself in very bitter terms, and floods of tears accompanied her lamentations, which the lady, her companion, declared she could not blame; but, at the same time, dissuaded her from indulging; attempting to moderate the grief of her friend, by philosophical observations on the many disappointments to which human life is daily subject, which, she said, was a sufficient consideration to fortify our minds against any accidents, how sudden or terrible soever. She said, her brother's example ought to teach her patience, who, though indeed he could not be supposed as much concerned as herself, yet was, doubtless, very uneasy, though his resignation to the Divine Will had restrained his grief within due bounds.

"Mention not my brother," said Mrs Blifil, "I alone am the object of your pity. What are the terrors of friendship to what a wife feels on these occasions? O he is lost! Somebody hath murdered him! I shall never see him more !"-Here a torrent of tears had the same consequence with what the suppression had occasioned to Mr Allworthy, and she remained silent.

At this interval, a servant came running in, out of breath, and cried out, the captain was found; and, before he could proceed farther, he