other, "from speaking in behalf of his religion, he assured me the catholics did not expect to be any gainers by the change; for that Prince Charles was as good a protestant as any in England, and that nothing but regard to right made him and the rest of the Popish party to be Jacobites."-" I believe him as much to be a protestant as I believe he hath any right," says Jones," and I make no doubt of our success, but not without a battle; so that I am not so sanguine as your friend the Popish priest."-"Nay, to be sure, sir," answered Partridge, "all the prophecies I have ever read speak of a great deal of blood to be spilt in the quarrel; and the miller with three thumbs, who is now alive, is to hold the horses of three kings, up to his knees in blood. Lord have mercy upon us all, and send better times!"-" With what stuff and nonsense hast thou filled thy head!" answered Jones; "this too, I suppose, comes from the Popish priest. Monsters and prodigies are the proper arguments to support monstrous and absurd doctrines. The cause of King George is the cause of liberty and true religion: in other words, it is the cause of common sense, my boy, and I warrant you will succeed, though Briareus himself was to rise again with his hundred thumbs, and to turn miller."-Partridge made no reply to this. He was indeed cast into the utmost confusion by this declaration of Jones. For to inform the reader of a secret, which we had no proper opportunity of revealing before, Partridge was in truth a Jacobite, and had concluded that Jones was of the same party, and was now proceeding to join the rebels. An opinion which was not without foundation: for the tall long-sided dame, mentioned by Hudibras, that many-eyed, many-tongued, many-mouthed, many-eared monster of Virgil, had related the story of the quarrel between Jones and the officer, with her usual regard to truth. She had indeed changed the name of Sophia into that of the Pretender, and had reported, that drinking his health was the cause for which Jones was knocked down. This Partridge had heard, and most firmly believed. 'Tis no wonder, therefore, that he had thence entertained the abovementioned opinion of Jones, and which he had almost discovered to him before he found out his own mistake. And at this the reader will be the less inclined to wonder, if he pleases to recollect the doubtful phrase in which Jones first communicated his resolution to Mr Par- In which our Travellers meet with a very extraortridge; and indeed had the words been less ambiguous, Partridge might very well have construed them as he did, being persuaded, as he was, that the whole nation were of the same inclination in their hearts; nor did it stagger him that Jones had travelled in the company of soldiers; for he had the same opinion of the army which he had of the rest of the people. ed to Little Benjamin than to either; for which reason he no sooner discovered the principles of his fellow traveller, than he thought proper to conceal, and outwardly to give up his own, to the man on whom he depended for the making of his fortune, since he by no means believed the affairs of Jones to be so desperate as they really were with Mr Allworthy; for as he had kept a constant correspondence with some of his neighbours since he left that country, he had heard much, indeed more than was true, of the great affection Mr Allworthy bore this young man, who, as Partridge had been instructed, was to be that gentleman's heir, and whom, as we said, he did not in the least doubt to be his son. He imagined, therefore, that whatever quarrel was between them, it would be certainly made up at the return of Mr Jones; an event from which he promised great advantages, if he could take this opportunity of ingratiating himself with that young gentleman; and if he could by any means be instrumental in procuring his return, he doubted not, as we have before said, but it would as highly advance him in the favour of Mr Allworthy. But however well affected he might be to James or Charles, he was still much more attach We have already observed, that he was a very good-natured fellow, and he hath himself declared the violent attachment he had to the person and character of Jones; but possibly the views which I have just before mentioned, might likewise have some little share in prompting him to undertake this expedition, at least in urging him to continue it, after he had discovered, that his master and himself, like some prudent fathers and sons, though they travelled together in great friendship, had embraced opposite parties. I am led into this conjecture, by having remarked, that though love, friendship, esteem, and such like, have very powerful operations in the human mind; interest, however, is an ingredient seldom omitted by wise men, when they would work others to their own purposes. This is indeed a most excellent medicine, and, like Ward's pill, flies at once to the particular part of the body on which you desire to operate, whether it be the tongue, the hand, or any other member, where it scarce ever fails of immediately producing the desired effect. CHAP. X. dinary adventure. JUST as Jones and his friend came to the end of their dialogue in the preceding chapter, they arrived at the bottom of a very steep hill. Here Jones stopt short, and, directing his eyes upwards, stood for a while silent. At length he called to his companion, and said, "Partridge, I wish I was at the top of this hill; it must certainly afford a most charming prospect, especially by this friendship, but that he would offer to lend me a small sum for that purpose; but he answered, 'Never mind that, man, e'en boldly run a levant;' (Partridge was going to enquire the mean ing of that word, but Jones stopped his mouth;) but be circumspect as to the man. I will tip you the proper person, which may be necessary, as you do not know the town, nor can distinguish a rum cull from a queer one.' "The bill was now brought, when Watson paid his share, and was departing. I reminded him, not without blushing, of my having no money. He answered, That signifies nothing, score it behind the door, or make a bold brush, and take no notice.-Or-stay,' says he, 'I will go down stairs first, and then do you take up my money, and score the whole reckoning at the bar, and I will wait for you at the corner. I expressed some dislike at this, and hinted my expectation that he would have deposited the whole; but he swore he had not another sixpence in his pocket. "I was at first a little shocked at returning to the same house whence we had departed in so unhandsome a manner; but when the drawer, with very civil address, told us, he believed we had forgot to pay our reckoning, I became perfectly easy, and very readily gave him a guinea, bid him pay himself, and acquiesced in the unjust charge which had been laid on my memory. "Mr Watson now bespoke the most extravagant supper he could well think of; and though he had contented himself with simple claret before, nothing now but the most precious Burgundy would serve his purpose. "Our company was soon increased by the addition of several gentlemen from the gaming table; most of whom, as I afterwards found, came not to the tavern to drink, but in the way of business; for the true gamesters pretended to be ill, and refused their glass, while they plied heartily two young fellows, who were to be afterwards pillaged, as indeed they were without mercy. Of this plunder I had the good fortune to be a sharer, though I was not yet let into the secret. "He then went down, and I was prevailed on to take up the money and follow him, which I did close enough to hear him tell the drawer the "There was one remarkable accident attendreckoning was upon the table. The drawer passed this tavern play; for the money, by degrees, ed by me up stairs; but I made such haste into totally disappeared: so that though, at the bethe street, that I heard nothing of his disap- ginning, the table was half covered with gold, pointment, nor did I mention a syllable at the yet before the play ended, which it did not till bar, according to my instructions. the next day, being Sunday, at noon, there was scarce a single guinea to be seen on the table; and this was the stranger, as every person present, except myself, declared he had lost; and what was become of the money, unless the devil himself carried it away, is difficult to determine." "We now went directly to the gaming-table, where Mr Watson, to my surprise, pulled out a large sum of money, and placed it before him, as did many others; all of them, no doubt, considering their own heaps as so many decoy-birds, which were to entice and draw over the heaps of their neighbours. "Here it would be tedious to relate all the freaks which Fortune, or rather the dice, played in this her temple. Mountains of gold were, in a few minutes, reduced to nothing at one part of the table, and rose as suddenly in another. The rich grew in a moment poor, and the poor as suddenly became rich; so that it seemed a philosopher could no where have so well instructed his pupils in the contempt of riches, at least, he could no where have better inculcated the uncertainty of their duration. "For my own part, after having considerably improved my small estate, I at last entirely demolished it. Mr Watson too, after much variety of luck, rose from the table in some heat, and declared he had lost a cool hundred, and would play no longer. Then coming up to me, he asked me to return with him to the tavern; but I positively refused, saying, I would not bring myself a second time into such a dilemma, and especially as he had lost all his money, and was now in my own condition. Pooh!" says he, 'I have just borrowed a couple of guineas of a friend; and one of them is at your service.' He immediately put one of them into my hand, and I no longer resisted his inclination. "Most certainly he did," says Partridge," for evil spirits can carry away any thing without being seen, though there were never so many folk in the room; and I should not have been surprised if he had carried away all the company of a set of wicked wretches, who were at play in sermon-time. And I could tell you a true story, if I would, where the devil took a man out of bed from another man's wife, and carried him away through the key-hole of the door. I've seen the very house where it was done, and nobody hath lived in it these thirty years." Though Jones was a little offended by the impertinence of Partridge, he could not however avoid smiling at his simplicity. The stranger did the same, and then proceeded with his story, as will be seen in the next chapter. CHAP. XIII. In which the foregoing Story is further continued. "My fellow collegiate had now entered me in a new scene of life. I soon became acquaint ed with the whole fraternity of sharpers, and was let into their secrets; I mean into the knowledge of those gross cheats which are proper to impose upon the raw and inexperienced: for there are some tricks of a finer kind, which are known only to a few of the gang, who are at the head of their profession; a degree of honour be yond my expectation: for drink, to which I was immoderately addicted, and the natural warmth of my passions, prevented me from arriving at any great success in an art which requires as much coolness as the most austere school of philosophy. "Mr Watson, with whom I now lived in the closest amity, had unluckily the former failing to a very great excess; so that instead of making a fortune by his profession, as some others did, he was alternately rich and poor, and was often obliged to surrender to his cooler friends, over a bottle which they never tasted, that plunder, that he had taken from culls at the public table. 66 However, we both made a shift to pick up an uncomfortable livelihood, and, for two years, I continued of the calling, during which time I tasted all the varieties of fortune; sometimes flourishing in affluence, and at others, being obliged to struggle with almost incredible difficulties; to-day wallowing in luxury, and to-morrow reduced to the coarsest and most homely fare; my fine clothes being often on my back in the evening, and at the pawnshop the next morning. "One night as I was returning pennyless from the gaming-table, I observed a very great disturbance, and a large mob gathered together in the street. As I was in no danger from pickpockets, I ventured into the crowd, where, upon enquiry, I found that a man had been robbed and very ill used by some ruffians. The wounded man appeared very bloody, and seemed scarce able to support himself on his legs. As I had not, therefore, been deprived of my humanity by my present life and conversation, though they had left me very little of either honesty or shame, I immediately offered my assistance to the unhappy person, who thankfully accepted it, and putting himself under my conduct, begged me to convey him to some tavern, where he might send for a surgeon, being, as he said, faint with loss of blood. He seemed indeed highly pleased at finding one who appeared in the dress of a gentleman: for as to all the rest of the company present, their outside was such, that he could not wisely place any confidence in them. "I took the poor man by the arm, and led him to the tavern where we kept our rendezvous, as it happened to be the nearest at hand. A surgeon happening luckily to be in the house, immediately attended, and applied himself to dressing his wounds, which I had the pleasure to hear were not likely to be mortal. "The surgeon having very expeditiously and dextrously finished his business, began to enquire in what part of the town the wounded man lodged; who answered, that he was come to town that very evening; that his horse was at an inn in Piccadilly, and that he had no other lodging, and very little or no acquaintance in town. "This surgeon, whose name I have forgot, though I remember it began with an R, had the first character in his profession, and was serjeant-surgeon to the king. He had moreover many good qualities, and was a very generous, good-natured man, and ready to do any service to his fellow-creatures. He offered his patient the use of his chariot to carry him to his inn, and at the same time whispered in his ear, that if he wanted any money, he would furnish him. "The poor man was not now capable of returning thanks for this generous offer: for, having had his eyes for some time stedfastly on me, he threw himself back in his chair, crying, 'O, my son! my son!' and then fainted away, "Many of the people present imagined this accident had happened through the loss of blood; but I, who at the same time began to recollect the features of my father, was now confirmed in my suspicion, and satisfied that it was he himself who appeared before me. I presently ran to him, raised him in my arms, and kissed his cold lips with the utmost eagerness. Here I must draw a curtain over a scene which I cannot describe: for though I did not lose my being, as my father for a while did, my senses were however so overpowered with affright and surprise, that I am a stranger to what passed during some minutes, and indeed till my father had again recovered from his swoon; and I found myself in his arms, both tenderly embracing each other, while the tears trickled apace down the cheeks of each of us. "Most of those present seemed affected by this scene, which we, who might be considered as the actors in it, were desirous of removing from the eyes of all spectators as fast as we could; my father, therefore, accepted the kind offer of the surgeon's chariot, and I attended him in it to his inn. "When we were alone together, he gently upbraided me with having neglected to write to him during so long a time, but entirely omitted the mention of that crime which had occasioned it. He then informed me of my mother's death, and insisted on my returning home with him, saying, that he had long suffered the greatest anxiety on my account; that he knew not whether he had most feared my death or wished it, since he had so many more dreadful apprehensions for me. At last he said, a neighbouring gentleman, who had just recovered a son from the same place, informed him where I was, and that to reclaim me from this course of life was the sole cause of his journey to London. He thanked Heaven he had succeeded so far as to find me out by means of an accident which had like to have proved fatal to him; and had the pleasure to think he partly owed his preservation to my humanity, with which he professed himself to be more delighted than he should have been with my filial piety, if I had known that the object of all my care was my own father. "Vice had not so depraved my heart, as to excite in it an insensibility of so much paternal affection, though so unworthily bestowed. I presently promised to obey his commands in my return home with him, as soon as he was able to travel, which indeed he was in a very few days, by the assistance of that excellent surgeon who had undertaken his cure. "The day preceding my father's journey, (before which time I scarce ever left him,) I went to take my leave of some of my most intimate acquaintance, particularly of Mr Watson, who dissuaded me from burying myself, as he called it, out of a simple compliance with the fond desires of a foolish old fellow. Such solicitations, however, had no effect, and I once more saw my own home. My father now greatly solicited me to think of marriage; but my inclinations were utterly averse to any such thoughts. I had tasted of love already, and perhaps you know the extravagant excesses of that most tender and most violent passion."Here the old gentleman paused, and looked earnestly at Jones, whose countenance, within a minute's space, displayed the extremities of both red and white. Upon which the old man, without making any observations, renewed his narrative. "Being now provided with all the necessaries of life, I betook myself once again to study, and that with a more inordinate application than I had ever done formerly. The books which now employed my time solely were those, as well ancient as modern, which treat of true philosophy, a word which is by many thought to be the subject only of farce and ridicule. I now read over the works of Aristotle and Plato, with the rest of those inestimable treasures which ancient Greece hath bequeathed to the world. "These authors, though they instructed me in no science by which men may promise to themselves to acquire the least riches, or worldly power, taught me, however, the art of despising the highest acquisitions of both. They elevate the mind, and steel and harden it against the capricious invasions of fortune. They not only instruct in the knowledge of wisdom, but confirm men in her habits, and demonstrate plainly, that this must be our guide, if we propose ever to arrive at the greatest worldly happiness, or to defend ourselves with any tolerable security against the misery which everywhere surrounds and invests us. "To this I added another study, compared to which all the philosophy taught by the wisest heathens is little better than a dream, and is indeed as full of vanity as the silliest jester ever pleased to represent it. This is that divine wisdom which is alone to be found in the Holy Scriptures; for they impart to us the knowledge and assurance of things much more worthy our attention, than all which this world can offer to our acceptance; of things which heaven itself hath condescended to reveal to us, and to the smallest knowledge of which the highest human wit, unassisted, could never ascend. I began now to think all the time I had spent with the best heathen writers, was little more than labour lost; for, however pleasant and delightful their lessons may be, or however adequate to the right regulation of our conduct with respect to this world only, yet when compared with the glory revealed in Scripture, their highest documents will appear as trifling, and of as little consequence, as the rules by which children regulate their childish little games and pastime. True it is, that philosophy makes us wiser, but Christianity makes us better men. Philosophy elevates and steels the mind, Christianity softens and sweetens it. The former makes us the objects of human admiration, the latter of divine love. That insures us a temporal, but this an eternal happiness.-But I am afraid I tire you with my rhapsody." "Lud forbid "Not at all," cries Partridge; we should be tired with good things." "I had spent," continued the stranger, "about four years in the most delightful manner to myself, totally given up to contemplation, and entirely unembarrassed with the affairs of the world, when I lost the best of fathers, and one whom I so entirely loved, that my grief at his loss exceeds all description. I now abandoned my books, and gave myself up for a whole month to the efforts of melancholy and despair. Time, however, the best physician of the mind, at length brought me relief."-" Ay, ay, tempus edax rerum," said Partridge.-" I then," continued the stranger, "betook myself again to my former studies, which, I may say, perfected my cure; for philosophy and religion may be called the exercises of the mind, and when this is disordered, they are as wholesome as exercise can be to a distempered body. They do indeed produce similar effects with exercise; for they strengthen and confirm the mind, till man becomes, in the noble strain of Horace, Fortis, et in seipso totus teres atque rotundus, Externi ne quid valeat per lave morari: In quem manca ruit semper Fortuna.” * Firm in himself, who on himself relies, And breaks misfortunes with superior force.-MR FRANCIS. "My circumstances were now greatly altered by the death of that best of men; for my brother, who was now become master of the house, differed so widely from me in his inclinations, and our pursuits in life had been so very various, that we were the worst of company to each other. But what made our living together still more disagreeable, was the little harmony which could subsist between the few who resorted to me, and the numerous train of sportsmen who often attended my brother from the field to the table; for such fellows, besides the noise and nonsense with which they persecute the ears of sober men, endeavour always to attack them with affront and contempt. This was so much the case, that neither I myself, nor my friends, could ever sit down to a meal with them with out being treated with derision, because we were unacquainted with the phrases of sportsmen. For men of true learning and almost universal knowledge, always compassionate the ignorance of others; but fellows who excel in some little, low, contemptible art, are always certain to despise those who are unacquainted with that art. "In short, we soon separated, and I went, by the advice of a physician, to drink the Bath waters; for my violent affliction, added to a sedentary life, had thrown me into a kind of paralytic disorder, for which those waters are accounted an almost certain cure. The second day after my arrival, as I was walking by the river, the sun shone so intensely hot (though it was early in the year) that I retired to the shelter of some willows, and sat down by the river side. Here I had not been seated long before I heard a person on the other side the willows, sighing and bemoaning himself bitterly. On a sudden, having uttered a most impious oath, he cried, I am resolved to bear it no longer,' and directly threw himself into the water. I immediately started, and ran towards the place, call ing at the same time as loudly as I could for assistance. An angler happened luckily to be a-fishing a little below me, though some very high sedge had hid him from my sight. He immediately came up, and both of us together, not without some hazard of our lives, drew the body to the shore. At first we perceived no sign of life remaining; but having held the body up by the heels, (for we soon had assistance enough,) it discharged a vast quantity of water at the mouth, and at length began to discover some symptoms of breathing, and a little afterwards to move both its hands and its legs. "An apothecary, who happened to be present among others, advised that the body, which seemed now to have pretty well emptied itself of water, and which began to have many convulsive motions, should be directly taken up, and carried into a warm bed. This was accordingly performed, the apothecary and myself attending. "As we were going towards an inn, for we knew not the man's lodgings, luckily a woman met us, who, after some violent screaming, told us, that the gentleman lodged at her house. "When I had seen the man safely deposited there, I left him to the care of the apothecary, who, I suppose, used all the right methods with him; for the next morning I heard he had perfectly recovered his senses. "I then went to visit him, intending to search out, as well as I could, the cause of his having attempted so desperate an act, and to prevent, as far as I was able, his pursuing such wicked intentions for the future. I was no sooner admitted into his chamber, than we both instantly knew each other; for who should this person be but my good friend Mr Watson! Here I will not trouble you with what past at our first interview; for I would avoid prolixity as much as possible."-" Pray let us hear all," cries Partridge; "I want mightily to know what brought him to Bath." "You shall hear every thing material," answered the stranger; and then proceeded to relate what we shall proceed to write, after we have given a short breathing time to both our selves and the reader. CHAP. XIV. In which the Man of the Hill concludes his History. "MR WATSON," continued the stranger, very freely acquainted me, that the unhappy situation of his circumstances, occasioned by a tide of ill-luck, had in a manner forced him to a resolution of destroying himself. "I now began to argue very seriously with him, in opposition to this heathenish, or indeed diabolical principle, of the lawfulness of selfmurder; and said every thing which occurred to me on the subject; but, to my great concern, it seemed to have very little effect on him. He seemed not at all to repent of what he had done, and gave me reason to fear, he would soon make a second attempt of the like horrible kind. "When I had finished my discourse, instead of endeavouring to answer my arguments, he looked me stedfastly in the face, and with a smile said, 'You are strangely altered, my good friend, since I remember you. I question whether any of our bishops could make a better argument against suicide than you have entertained me with; but unless you can find somebody who will lend me a cool hundred, I must |