the mean time, befal his friend; but he had advanced a very few paces into the thicket, before Jones, having defeated Blifil,, overtook the parson, and dragged him backward by the skirt of his coat.

This parson had been a champion in his youth, and had won much honour by his fist, both at school and at the university. He had now, indeed, for a great number of years, declined the practice of that noble art; yet was his courage full as strong as his faith, and his body no less strong than either. He was, moreover, as the reader may, perhaps, have conceived, somewhat irascible in his nature. When he looked back, therefore, and saw his friend stretched out on the ground, and found himself at the same time so roughly handled by one who had formerly been only passive in all conflicts between them, (a circumstance which highly aggravated the whole,) his patience at length gave way; he threw himself into a posture of offence, and, collecting all his force, attacked Jones in the front, with as much impetuosity as he had formerly attacked him in the rear.

Our hero received the enemy's attack with the most undaunted intrepidity, and his bosom resounded with the blow. This he presently returned with no less violence, aiming likewise at the parson's breast; but he dexterously drove down the fist of Jones, so that it reached only his belly, where two pounds of beef and as many of pudding were then deposited, and whence, consequently, no hollow sound could proceed. Many lusty blows, much more pleasant as well as easy to have seen, than to read or describe, were given on both sides; at last a violent fall, in which Jones had thrown his knees into Thwackum's breast, so weakened the latter, that victory had no longer been dubious, had not Blifil, who had now recovered his strength, again renewed the fight, and, by engaging with Jones, given the parson a moment's time to shake his ears, and to regain his breath.

And now both together attacked our hero, whose blows did not retain that force with which they had fallen at first; so weakened was he by his combat with Thwackum: for though the pedagogue chose rather to play solos on the human instrument, and had been lately used to those only, yet he still retained enough of his ancient knowledge to perform his part very well in a duet.

The victory, according to modern custom, was like to be decided by numbers, when, on a sudden, a fourth pair of fists appeared in the battle, and immediately paid their compliments to the parson; and the owner of them, at the same time, crying out, "Are you not ashamed, and be d-n'd to you, to fall two of you upon one?"

The battle, which was of the kind that, for distinction's sake, is called Royal, now raged with the utmost violence during a few minutes; till Blifil being a second time laid sprawling by

Jones, Thwackum condescended to apply for quarter to his new antagonist, who was now found to be Mr Western himself; for in the heat of the action none of the combatants had recognized him.

In fact, that honest squire, happening in his afternoon's walk with some company to pass through the field where the bloody battle was fought, and having concluded, from seeing three men engaged, that two of them must be on a side, he hastened from his companions, and with more gallantry than policy, espoused the cause of the weaker party; by which generous proceeding he very probably prevented Mr Jones from becoming a victim to the wrath of Thwackum, and to the pious friendship which Blifil bore his old master: for besides the disadvantage of such odds, Jones had not yet sufficiently recovered the former strength of his broken arm. This reinforcement, however, soon put an end to the action, and Jones, with his ally, obtained the victory.

CHAP. XII.

In which is seen a more moving spectacle than all the blood in the bodies of Thwackum and Blifil, and of twenty other such, is capable of producing.

THE rest of Mr Western's company were now come up, being just at the instant when the action was over. These were, the honest clergyman whom we have formerly seen at Mr Western's table, Mrs Western, the aunt of Sophia, and, lastly, the lovely Sophia herself.

At this time the following was the aspect of the bloody field :-In one place lay on the ground, all pale and almost breathless, the vanquished Blifil. Near him stood the conqueror Jones, almost covered with blood, part of which was naturally his own, and part had been lately the property of the Rev. Mr Thwackum. In a third place stood the said Thwackum, like King Porus, sullenly submitting to the conqueror. The last figure in the piece was Western the Great, most gloriously forbearing the vanquished foe.

Bliйl, in whom there was little sign of life, was at first the principal object of the concern of every one, and particularly of Mrs Western, who had drawn from her pocket a bottle of hartshorn, and was herself about to apply it to his nostrils, when on a sudden the attention of the whole company was diverted from poor Blifil, whose spirit, if it had any such design, might have now taken an opportunity of stealing off to the other world, without any ceremony.

For now a more melancholy and a more lovely object lay motionless before them. This was no other than the charming Sophia herself, who, from the sight of blood, or from fear for her father, or from some other reason, had fallen down

in a swoon, before any one could get to her assistance.

Mrs Western first saw her, and screamed. Immediately two or three voices cried out, Miss Western is dead! Hartshorn, water, every remedy was called for, almost at one and the same instant.

The reader may remember, that in our description of this grove we mentioned a murmuring brook, which brook did not come there, as such gentle streams flow through vulgar romances, with no other purpose than to murmur. No; Fortune had decreed to ennoble this little brook with a higher honour than any of those which wash the plains of Arcadia ever deserved. Jones was rubbing Blifil's temples; for he began to fear he had given him a blow too much, when the words Miss Western, and dead, rushed at once on his ear. He started up, left Blifil to his fate, and flew to Sophia, whom, while all the rest were running against each other backward and forward, looking for water in the dry paths, he caught up in his arms, and then ran away with her over the field to the rivulet above mentioned; where, plunging himself into the water, he contrived to besprinkle her face, head, and neck very plentifully.

Happy was it for Sophia, that the same confusion which prevented her other friends from serving her, prevented them likewise from obstructing Jones. He had carried her half way before they knew what he was doing, and had actually restored her to life before they reached the water-side: she stretched out her arms, opened her eyes, and cried, "Oh, Heavens !" just as her father, aunt, and the parson, came up.

Jones, who had hitherto held this lovely burthen in his arms, now relinquished his hold; but gave her at the same instant a tender caress, which, had her senses been then perfectly restored, could not have escaped her observation. As she expressed, therefore, no displeasure at this freedom, we suppose she was not sufficiently recovered from her swoon at the time.

This tragical scene was now converted into a sudden scene of joy. In this our hero was, most certainly, the principal character: for as he probably felt more ecstatic delight in having saved Sophia, than she herself received from being saved, so neither were the congratulations paid to her equal to what were conferred on Jones, especially by Mr Western himself, who, after having once or twice embraced his daughter, fell to hugging and kissing Jones. He called him the preserver of Sophia, and declared there was nothing except her, or his estate, which he would not give him; but, upon recollection, he afterwards excepted his fox-hounds, the Chevalier, and Miss Slouch, (for so he called his favourite mare.)

All fears for Sophia being now removed, Jones became the object of the squire's consideration. "Come, my lad," says Western, "d'off thy

quoat and wash thy feace: for art in a devilish pickle, I promise thee. Come, come, wash thyself, and shat go huome with me, and we'll zee to vind thee another quoat."

Jones immediately complied, threw off his coat, went down to the water, and washed both his face and his bosom; for the latter was as much exposed, and as bloody as the former: but though the water could clear off the blood, it could not remove the black and blue marks which Thwackum had imprinted on both his face and breast, and which, being discerned by Sophia, drew from her a sigh, and a look full of inexpressible tenderness.

Jones received this full in his eyes, and it had infinitely a stronger effect on him than all the contusions which he had received before. An effect, however, widely different; for so soft and balmy was it, that had all his former blows been stabs, it would for some minutes have prevented his feeling their smart.

The company now moved backwards, and soon arrived where Thwackum had got Master Blifil again on his legs. Here we cannot suppress a pious wish, that all quarrels were to be decided by those weapons only with which nature, knowing what is proper for us, hath supplied us; and that cold iron was to be used in digging no bowels but those of the earth. Then would war, the pastime of monarchs, be almost inoffensive, and battles between great armies might be fought at the particular desire of several ladies of quality; who, together with the kings themselves, might be actual spectators of the conflict. Then might the field be this moment well strewed with human carcasses, and the next the dead men, or infinitely the greatest part of them, might get up, like Mr Bayes's troops, and march off, either at the sound of a drum or fiddle, as should be previously agreed on.

I would avoid, if possible, treating this matter ludicrously, lest grave men and politicians, whom I know to be offended at a jest, may cry pish at it; but, in reality, might not a battle be as well decided by the greater number of broken heads, bloody noses, and black eyes, as by the greater heaps of mangled and murdered human bodies? Might not towns be contended for in the same manner? Indeed this may be thought too detrimental a scheme to the French interest, since they would thus lose the advantage they have over other nations in the superiority of their engineers: but when I consider the gallantry and generosity of that people, I am persuaded they would never decline putting themselves upon a par with their adversary, or, as the phrase is, making themselves his match.

But such reformations are rather to be wished than hoped for: I shall content myself, therefore, with this short hint, and return to my narrative.

Western began now to enquire into the original rise of this quarrel; to which neither Bli

fil nor Jones gave any answer: but Thwackum said surlily, "I believe the cause is not far off; if you beat the bushes well you may find her." Find her!" replied Western, "what! have you been fighting for a wench?"- "Ask the gentleman in his waistcoat there," said Thwackum, "he best knows."-" Nay, then," cries Western," it is a wench certainly.—Ah, Tom, Tom, thou art a liquorish dog:-but come, gentlemen, be all friends, and go home with me, and make final peace over a bottle."-" I ask your pardon, sir," says Thwackum, "it is no such slight matter for a man of my character to be thus injuriously treated and buffetted by a boy, only because I would have done my duty, in endeavouring to detect and bring to justice a wanton harlot: but, indeed, the principal fault lies in Mr Allworthy and yourself; for if you put the laws in execution as you ought to do, you will soon rid the country of these vermin.' "I would as soon rid the country of foxes," cries Western. "I think we ought to encourage the recruiting those numbers which we are every day losing in the war. But where is she? Prithee, Tom, shew me." He then began to beat about, in the same language, and in the same manner, as if he had been beating about for a hare, and at last cried out, "Soho! puss is not far off. Here's her form, upon my soul; I

believe I may cry, stole away." And indeed so he might, for he had now discovered the place whence the poor girl had, at the beginning of the fray, stolen away, upon as many feet as a hare generally uses in travelling.

Sophia now desired her father to return home, saying, she found herself very faint, and apprehended a relapse. The squire immediately complied with his daughter's request, (for he was the fondest of parents.) He earnestly endeavoured to prevail with the whole company to go and sup with him; but Blifil and Thwackum absolutely refused; the former saying, there were more reasons than he could then mention why he must decline this honour: and the latter declaring, (perhaps rightly,) that it was not proper for a person of his function to be seen at any place in his present condition.

Jones was incapable of refusing the pleasure of being with his Sophia. So on he marched with Squire Western and his ladies, the parson bringing up the rear. This had, indeed, offered to tarry with his brother Thwackum, professing his regard for the cloth would not permit him to depart; but Thwackum would not accept the favour, and with no great civility pushed him after Mr Western.

Thus ended this bloody fray; and thus shall end the Fifth Book of this history.

CHAP. I.

Of Love.

In our last Book we have been obliged to deal pretty much with the passion of love; and in our succeeding Book shall be forced to handle this subject still more largely. It may not, therefore, in this place, be improper to apply ourselves to the examination of that modern doctrine, by which certain philosophers, among many other wonderful discoveries, pretend to have found out, that there is no such passion in the human breast.

Whether these philosophers be the same with that surprising sect, who are honourably mentioned by the late Dr Swift, as having, by the mere force of genius alone, without the least as sistance of any kind of learning, or even reading, discovered that profound and invaluable secret,

that there is no God; or whether they are not rather the same with those who, some years since, very much alarmed the world, by shewing that there were no such things as virtue or goodness really existing in human nature, and who deduced our best actions from pride, I will not here presume to determine. In reality I am inclined to suspect, that all these several finders of truth are the very identical men, who are by others called the finders of gold. The method used in both these searches after truth and after gold being indeed one and the same, viz. the searching, rummaging, and examining into a nasty place; indeed, in the former instances, into the nastiest of all places, a bad mind.

But though in this particular, and perhaps in their success, the truth-finder and the goldfinder may very properly be compared together, yet in modesty, surely, there can be no comparison between the two: for who ever heard of a gold-finder that had the impudence or folly to

assert, from the ill success of his search, that there was no such thing as gold in the world? whereas the truth-finder, having raked out that jakes, his own mind, and being there capable of tracing no ray of divinity, nor any thing virtuous, or good, or lovely, or loving, very fairly, honestly, and logically concludes, that no such things exist in the whole creation.

To avoid, however, all contention, if possible, with these philosophers, if they will be called so, and to shew our own disposition to accommodate matters peaceably between us, we shall here make them some concessions, which may possibly put an end to the dispute.

First, We will grant that many minds, and perhaps those of the philosophers, are entirely free from the least traces of such a passion. Secondly, That what is commonly called love, namely, the desire of satisfying a voracious appetite with a certain quantity of delicate white human flesh, is by no means that passion for which I here contend. This is indeed more properly hunger; and as no glutton is ashamed to apply the word love to his appetite, and to say he loves such and such dishes, so may the lover of this kind, with equal propriety say, he hungers after such and such women.

Thirdly, I will grant, which I believe will be a most acceptable concession, that this love for which I am an advocate, though it satisfies itself in a much more delicate manner, doth neverthe less seek its own satisfaction as much as the grossest of all our appetites.

And, lastly, that this love, when it operates towards one of a different sex, is very apt, towards its complete gratification, to call in the aid of that hunger which I have mentioned above; and which it is so far from abating, that it height ens all its delights to a degree scarce imaginable by those who have never been susceptible of any other emotions than what have proceeded from appetite alone.

In return to all these concessions, I desire of the philosophers to grant, that there is in some (I believe in many) human breasts, a kind and benevolent disposition, which is gratified by contributing to the happiness of others. That in this gratification alone, as in friendship, in parental and filial affection, as indeed in general philanthropy, there is a great and exquisite delight. That if we will not call such a disposition love, we have no name for it. That though the pleasures arising from such pure love may be heightened and sweetened by the assistance of amorous desires, yet the former can subsist alone, nor are they destroyed by the intervention of the latter. Lastly, that esteem and gratitude are the proper motives to love, as youth and beauty are to desire: and therefore though such desire may naturally cease, when age or sickness overtakes its object; yet these can have no effect on love, nor ever shake or remove from a good mind that

VOL. I.

sensation or passion which hath gratitude and esteem for its basis.

To deny the existence of a passion of which we often see manifest instances, seems to be very strange and absurd, and can indeed proceed only from that self-admonition which we have mentioned above. But how unfair is this? Doth the man who recognizes in his heart no traces of avarice or ambition, conclude therefore that there are no such passions in human nature? Why will we not modestly observe the same rule in judging of the good, as well as the evil of others? Or why, in any case, will we, as Shakespeare phrases it, "put the world in our own person?"

Predominant vanity is, I am afraid, too much concerned here. This is one instance of that adulation which we bestow on our own minds, and this almost universally. For there is scarce any man, how much soever he may despise the character of a flatterer, but will condescend in the meanest manner to flatter himself.

To those, therefore, I apply for the truth of the above observations, whose own minds can bear testimony to what I have advanced.

Examine your heart, my good reader, and resolve whether you do believe these matters with me. If you do, you may now proceed to their exemplification in the following pages; if you do not, you have, I assure you, already read more than you have understood; and it would be wiser to pursue your business, or your pleasures, (such as they are) than to throw away any more of your time in reading what you can neither taste nor comprehend. To treat of the effects of love to you, must be as absurd as to discourse on colours to a man born blind; since possibly your idea of love may be as absurd as that which we are told such blind man once entertained of the colour scarlet: that colour seemed to him to be very much like the sound of a trumpet; and love probably may, in your opinion, very greatly resemble a dish of soup, or a sirloin of roast-beef.

CHAP. II.

The character of Mrs Western. Her great learning and knowledge of the world, and an instance of the deep penetration which she derived from these advantages.

THE reader hath seen Mr Western, his sister, and daughter, with young Jones, and the parson, going together to Mr Western's house, where the greater part of the company spent the evening with much joy and festivity. Sophia was indeed the only grave person: for as to Jones, though love had now gotten entire possession of his heart, yet the pleasing reflection on Mr Allworthy's recovery, and the presence of his mistress, joined to some tender looks which she now and then could not refrain from giving him, so

P

elevated our hero, that he joined the mirth of the other three, who were perhaps as good-humoured people as any in the world.

Sophia retained the same gravity of countenance the next morning at breakfast; whence she retired likewise earlier than usual, leaving her father and aunt together. The squire took no notice of this change in his daughter's disposition. To say the truth, though he was somewhat of a politician, and had been twice a candidate in the country interest at an election, he was a man of no great observation. His sister was a lady of a different turn. She had lived about the court, and had seen the world. Hence she had acquired all that knowledge which the said world usually communicates; and was a perfect mistress of manners, customs, ceremonies, and fashions. Nor did her erudition stop here. She had considerably improved her mind by study; she had not only read all the modern plays, s oratorios, poems and romances, in all ch she was a critic; but had gone through Karen's History of England, Echard's Roman story, and many French Memoirs pour servir astore; to these she had added most of the cal pamphlets and journals, published withthe last twenty years; from which she had ed a very competent skill in politics, and could discourse very learnedly on the affairs of She was moreover excellently well skilled in the doctrine of amour, and knew better gany body who and who were together: a wledge which she the more easily attained, or pursuit of it was never diverted by any rs of her own; for either she had no inclina, or they had never been solicited; which Best is indeed very probable: for her masculine son, which was near six foot high, added to Amanner and learning, possibly prevented the her sex from regarding her, notwithstanding ber petticoats, in the light of a woman. How wr, as she had considered the matter scientifiy, she perfectly well knew, though she had ever practised them, all the arts which fine laires use when they desire to give encourageent, or to conceal liking, with all the long appendage of smiles, ogles, glances, &c. as they are at present practised in the beau monde. To sum the whole, no species of disguise or affectation Pad escaped her notice; but as to the plain simple workings of honest nature, as she had never seen any such, she could know but little of them. By means of this wonderful sagacity, Mrs Western had now, as she thought, made a discovery of something in the mind of Sophia. The first hint of this she took from the behaviour of the young lady in the field of battle: and the suspicion which she then conceived, was greatly corroborated by some observations which she had made that evening and the next morning. However, being greatly cautious to avoid being found in a mistake, she carried the secret a whole fortnight in her bosom, giving only some oblique

hints, by simperings, winks, nods, and now and then dropping an obscure word, which indeed sufficiently alarmed Sophia, but did not at all affect her brother.

Being at length, however, thoroughly satisfied of the truth of her observation, she took an opportunity, one morning, when she was alone with her brother, to interrupt one of his whistles in the following manner.

"Pray, brother, have you not observed something very extraordinary in my niece lately?” -"No, not I," answered Western; "is anything the matter with the girl?"-" I think there is," replies she," and something of much consequence too."-" Why, she doth not complain of any thing," cries Western; "" and she hath had the small-pox."-" Brother," returned she, "girls are liable to other distempers besides the small-pox, and sometimes possibly to much worse."-Here Western interrupted her with much earnestness, and begged her, if anything ailed his daughter, to acquaint him immediately; adding, she knew he loved her more than his own soul, and that he would send to the world's end for the best physician to her. “Nay, nay,” answered she, smiling," the distemper is not so terrible; but, I believe, brother, you are convinced I know the world, and I promise you, I was never more deceived in my life, if my niece be not most desperately in love."-" How, in love!" cries Western, in a passion," in love without acquainting me! I'll disinherit her, I'll turn her out of doors, stark naked, without a farthing. Is all my kindness vor 'ur, and vondness o'ur, come to this, to fall in love without asking me leave!"-" But you will not," answered Mrs Western, "turn this daughter, whom you love better than your own soul, out of doors, before you know whether you shall approve her choice. Suppose she should have fixed on the very person whom you yourself would wish, I hope you would not be angry then?"-" No, no," cries Western, "that would make a difference. If she marries the man I would ha' her, she may love whom she pleases, I shan't trouble my head about that."-"That is spoken," answered the sister, "like a sensible man: but I believe the very person she hath chosen, would be the very person you would chuse for her. I will disclaim all knowledge of the world if it is not so; and, I believe, brother, you will allow I have some."-" Why, look'ee, sister," said Western, "I do believe you have as much as any woman; and, to be sure, those are women's matters. You know I don't love to hear you talk about politics; they belong to us, and petticoats should not meddle: but come, who is the man ?"-" Marry," said she, " you may find him out yourself, if you please. You, who are so great a politician, can be at no great loss. The judgment which can penetrate into the cabinets of princes, and discover the secret springs which move the great