secret. And then the girl might have gone off never the worse; for many such things happen in this town; and if the husband should suspect a little, when it is too late, it will be his wiser conduct to conceal his suspicion both from his wife and the world."

"Indeed, my friend," answered Jones, "this could not have been the case with your poor Nancy. You have so entirely gained her affection, that it is the loss of you, and not of her reputation, which afflicts her, and will end in the destruction of her and her family."-"Nay, for that matter, I promise you," cries Nightingale," she hath my affections so absolutely, that my wife, whoever she is to be, will have very little share in them."-"And is it possible then," said Jones, " you can think of deserting her?" -"Why, what can I do?" answered the other. -"Ask Miss Nancy," replied Jones warmly. "In the condition to which you have reduced her, I sincerely think she ought to determine what reparation you shall make her. Her interest alone, and not yours, ought to be your sole consideration. But if you ask me what you shall do, what can you do less," cries Jones, "than fulfil the expectations of her family and her own? Nay, I sincerely tell you, they were mine too, ever since I first saw you together. You will pardon me, if I presume on the friendship you have favoured me with, moved as I am with compassion for those poor creatures. But your own heart will best suggest to you, whether you have never intended by your conduct, to persuade the mother, as well as the daughter, into an opinion that you designed honourably; and if so, though there may have been no direct promise of marriage in the case, I will leave to your own good understanding how far you are bound to proceed."

"Nay, I must not only confess what you have hinted," said Nightingale, "but I am afraid, even that very promise you mention I have given."-" And can you, after owning that," said Jones, "hesitate a moment ?"-" Consider, my friend," answered the other; " I know you are a man of honour, and would advise no one to act contrary to its rules; if there were no other objection, can I, after this publication of her disgrace, think of such an alliance with honour?" -"Undoubtedly," replied Jones; " and the very best and truest honour, which is goodness, requires it of you. As you mention a scruple of this kind, you will give me leave to examine it. Can you, with honour, be guilty of having, under false pretences, deceived a young woman and her family, and of having, by these means, treacherously robbed her of her innocence? Can you, with honour, be the knowing, the wilful occasion, nay, the artful contriver, of the ruin of a human being? Can you, with honour, destroy the fame, the peace, nay, probably, both the life and soul too of this creature? Can honour bear the thought that this creature is a tender, help

less, defenceless, young woman? a young woman who loves, who doats upon you, who dies for you; who hath placed the utmost confidence in your promises; and to that confidence hath sacrificed every thing which is dear to her? Can honour support such contemplations as these a moment?"

"Common sense, indeed," said Nightingale, "warrants all you say; but yet you well know the opinion of the world is so contrary to it, that if I was to marry a whore, though my own, I should be ashamed of ever shewing my face again."

"Fy upon it, Mr Nightingale," said Jones, "do not call her by so ungenerous a name! When you promised to marry her, she became your wife; and she hath sinned more against prudence than virtue. And what is this world, which you would be ashamed to face, but the vile, the foolish, and the profligate? Forgive me, if I say such a shame must proceed from false modesty, which always attends false honour as its shadow. But I am well assured there is not a man of real sense and goodness in the world, who would not honour and applaud the action. But admit no other would, would not your own heart, my friend, applaud it? And do not the warm, rapturous, sensations, which we feel from the consciousness of an honest, noble, generous, benevolent action, convey more delight to the mind than the undeserved praise of millions? Set the alternative fairly before your eyes. On the one side, see this poor, unhappy, tender, believing girl, in the arms of her wretched mother, breathing her last. Hear her breaking heart in agonies, sighing out your name, and lamenting, rather than accusing, the cruelty which weighs her down to destruction. Paint to your imagination the circumstances of her fond, despairing parent, driven to madness, or perhaps to death, by the loss of her lovely daughter. View the poor, helpless, orphan-infant; and when your mind hath dwelt a moment only on such ideas, consider yourself as the cause of all the ruin of this poor, little, worthy, defenceless family. On the other side, consider yourself as relieving them from their temporary sufferings. Think with what joy, with what transports, that lovely creature will fly to your arms. See her blood returning to her pale cheeks, her fire to her languid eyes, and raptures to her tortured breast! Consider the exultations of her mother; the happiness of all. Think of this little family made, by one act of yours, completely happy. Think of this alternative, and sure I am mistaken in my friend, if it requires any long deliberation, whether he will sink these wretches down for ever, or, by one generous, noble resolution, raise them all from the brink of misery and despair to the highest pitch of human happiness. Add to this but one consideration more; the consideration that it is your duty so to do that the misery from which you

will relieve these poor people is the misery which you yourself have wilfully brought upon them." "O my dear friend," cries Nightingale, "I wanted not your eloquence to rouse me. I pity poor Nancy from my soul, and would willingly give any thing in my power that no familiarities had ever passed between us. Nay, believe me, I had many struggles with my passion, before I could prevail with myself to write that cruel letter, which hath caused all the misery in that unhappy family. If I had no inclinations to consult but my own, I would marry her tomorrow morning: I would, by Heaven; but you will easily imagine how impossible it would be to prevail on my father to consent to such a match; besides, he hath provided another for me; and to-morrow, by his express command, I am to wait on the lady."

"I have not the honour to know your father," said Jones; " but suppose he could be persuaded, would you yourself consent to the only means of preserving these poor people?"-" As eagerly as I would pursue my happiness," answered Nightingale; " for I never shall find it in any other woman.-O, my dear friend, could you imagine what I have felt within these twelve hours for my poor girl, I am convinced she would not engross all your pity. Passion leads me only to her; and if I had any foolish scruples of honour, you have fully satisfied them: could my father be induced to comply with my desires, nothing would be wanting to complete my own happiness, or that of my Nancy."

"Then I am resolved to undertake it," said Jones. "You must not be angry with me, in whatever light it may be necessary to set this affair, which, you may depend on it, could not otherwise be long hid from him; for things of this nature make a quick progress when once they get abroad, as this unhappily hath already. Besides, should any fatal accident follow, as, upon my soul, I am afraid will, unless immediately prevented, the public would ring of your name in a manner, which, if your father hath common humanity, must offend him. If you will therefore tell me where I may find the old gentleman, I will not lose a moment in the business; which while I pursue, you cannot do a more generous action than by paying a visit to the poor girl. You will find I have not exaggerated in the account I have given of the wretchedness of the family."

Nightingale immediately consented to the proposal; and now having acquainted Jones with his father's lodging, and the coffeehouse where he would most probably find him, he hesitated a moment, and then said, "My dear Tom, you are going to undertake an impossibility. If you knew my father, you would never think of obtaining his consent.-Stay, there is one waysuppose you told him I was already married, it might be easier to reconcile him to the fact after it was done; and upon my honour, I am so

affected with what you have said, and I love my Nancy so passionately, I almost wish it was done, whatever might be the consequence."

Jones greatly approved the hint, and promised to pursue it. They then separated, Nightingale to visit his Nancy, and Jones in quest of the old gentleman.

CHAP. VIII.

What passed between Jones and old Mr Nightingale, with the arrival of a person not yet mentioned in this History.

NOTWITHSTANDING the sentiment of the Roman satirist, which denies the divinity of Fortune, and the opinion of Seneca, to the same purpose; Cicero, who was, I believe, a wiser man than either of them, expressly holds the contrary: and certain it is, there are some incidents in life so very strange and unaccountable, that it seems to require more than human skill and foresight in producing them.

Of this kind was what now happened to Jones, who found Mr Nightingale the elder in so critical a minute, that Fortune, if she was really worthy all the worship she received at Rome, could not have contrived such another. In short, the old gentleman, and the father of the young lady whom he intended for his son, had been hard at it for many hours; and the latter was just now gone, and had left the former delighted with the thoughts that he had succeeded in a long contention which had been between the two fathers of the future bride and bridegroom; in which both endeavoured to over-reach the other, and, as it not rarely happens in such cases, both had retreated fully satisfied of having obtained the victory.

This gentleman whom Mr Jones now visited, was what they call a man of the world; that is to say, a man who directs his conduct in this world as one, who, being fully persuaded there is no other, is resolved to make the most of this. In his early years he had been bred to trade; but having acquired a very good fortune, he had lately declined his business; or, to speak more properly, had changed it from dealing in goods to dealing in money, of which he had always a plentiful fund at command, and of which he knew very well how to make a very plentiful advantage, sometimes of the necessities of private men, and sometimes of those of the public. He had indeed conversed so entirely with money, that it may be almost doubted, whether he imagined there was any other thing really existing in the world; this, at least, may be certainly averred, that he firmly believed nothing else to have any real value.

The reader will, I fancy, allow, that Fortune could not have culled out a more improper person for Mr Jones to attack with any probability

of success; nor could the whimsical lady have directed this attack at a more unseasonable time. As money, then, was always uppermost in this gentleman's thoughts, so the moment he saw a stranger within his doors, it immediately occurred to his imagination, that such stranger was either come to bring him money, or to fetch it from him. And according as one or other of these thoughts prevailed, he conceived a favourable or unfavourable idea of the person who approached him.

Unluckily for Jones, the latter of these was the ascendant at present; for as a young gentleman had visited him the day before with a bill from his son for a play-debt, he apprehended, at the first sight of Jones, that he was come on such another errand. Jones therefore had no sooner told him, that he was come on his son's account, than the old gentleman, being confirmed in his suspicion, burst forth into an exclamation, that he would lose his labour. "Is it then possible, sir," answered Jones, "that you can guess my business?"-"If I do guess it," replied the other, I repeat again to you, you will lose your labour. What, I suppose you are one of those sparks who lead my son into all those scenes of riot and debauchery, which will be his destruction; but I shall pay no more of his bills, I promise you. I expect he will quit all such company for the future. If I had imagined otherwise, I should not have provided a wife for him; for I would be instrumental in the ruin of nobody."-" How, sir," said Jones, " and was this lady of your providing?"-" Pray, sir," answered the old gentleman, how comes it to be any concern of yours?"—"Nay, dear sir," replied Jones, "be not offended that I interest myself in what regards your son's happiness, for whom I have so great an honour and value. It was upon that very account I came to wait upon you. I can't express the satisfaction you have given me by what you say; for I do assure you, your son is a person for whom I have the highest honour.Nay, sir, it is not easy to express the esteem I have for you, who could be so generous, so good, so kind, so indulgent, to provide such a match for your son; a woman, who, I dare swear, will make him one of the happiest men upon earth." There is scarce any thing which so happily introduces men to our good liking, as having conceived some alarm at their first appearance; when once those apprehensions begin to vanish, we soon forget the fears which they occasioned, and look on ourselves as indebted for our present ease to those very persons who at first raised our

to say concerning this young lady, I shall be glad to hear you. As to her making him happy, it will be his own fault if she doth not. I have discharged my duty, in taking care of the main article. She will bring him a fortune capable of making any reasonable, prudent, sober man, happy.""Undoubtedly," cries Jones, "for she is in herself a fortune; so beautiful, so genteel, so sweettempered, and so well educated; she is indeed a most accomplished young lady; sings admirably well, and has a most delicate hand at the harpsichord."-" I did not know any of these matters," answered the old gentleman, "for I never saw the lady; but I do not like her the worse for what you tell me; and I am the better pleased with her father for not laying any stress on these qualifications in our bargain. I shall always think it a proof of his understanding. A silly fellow would have brought in these articles as an addition to her fortune; but, to give him his due, he never mentioned any such matter; though to be sure they are no disparagements to a woman."-"I do assure you, sir,” cries Jones, "she hath them all in the most eminent degree: for my part, I own I was afraid you might have been a little backward, a little less inclined to the match: for your son told me, you had never seen the lady; therefore I came, sir, in that case, to entreat you, to conjure you, as you value the happiness of your son, not to be averse to his match with a woman, who hath not only all the good qualities I have mentioned, but many more." -"If that was your business, sir," said the gentleman, "we are both obliged to you, and you may be perfectly easy; for I give you my word, I was very well satisfied with her fortune.""Sir," answered Jones, "I honour you every moment more and more. To be so easily satisfied, so very moderate on that account, is a proof of the soundness of your understanding, as well as the nobleness of your mind."-" Not so very moderate, young gentleman, not so very moderate," answered the father.-"Still more and more noble," replied Jones, " and give me leave to add, sensible: for sure it is little less than madness to consider money as the sole foundation of happiness. Such a woman as this, with her little, her nothing of a fortune"- "I find," cries the old gentleman, "you have a pretty just opinion of money, my friend, or else you are better acquainted with the person of the lady than with her circumstances. Why, pray, what fortune do you imagine this lady to have?""What fortune," cries Jones, "why, too contemptible a one to be named for your son.""Well, well, well," said the other, " perhaps he might have done better."-" That I deny," said Jones, "for she is one of the best of women."-" Ay, ay, but in point of fortune 1 mean," answered the other." And yet, as to that now, how much do you imagine your friend is to have?"-"How much," cries Jones," "how much?-why, at the utmost, perhaps 2001.”

"Do you mean to banter me, young gentleman?" said the father, a little angry." No, upon my soul," answered Jones, "I am in earnest; nay, I believe I have gone to the utmost farthing. If I do the lady an injury, I ask her pardon.""Indeed you do," cries the father. "I am certain she hath fifty times that sum, and she shall produce fifty to that, before I consent that she shall marry my son. 66 Nay," said Jones, "it is too late to talk of consent now. If she had not fifty farthings, your son is married."-"My son married!" answered the old gentleman, with surprise." Nay," said Jones, "I thought you was unacquainted with it."-" My son married to Miss Harris!" answered he again." To Miss Harris!" said Jones; "no, sir, to Miss Nancy Miller, the daughter of Mrs Miller, at whose house he lodged; a young lady, who, though her mother is reduced to let lodgings"

"Are you bantering, or are you in earnest?" cries the father, with a most solemn voice." Indeed, sir," answered Jones, "I scorn the character of a banterer. I came to you in most serious earnest, imagining, as I find true, that your son had never dared to acquaint you with a match so much inferior to him in point of fortune, though the reputation of the lady will suffer it no longer to remain a secret."

While the father stood like one struck suddenly dumb at this news, a gentleman came into the room, and saluted him by the name of brother. But though these two were in consanguinity so nearly related, they were in their dispositions almost opposites to each other. The brother who now arrived, had likewise been bred to trade, in which he no sooner saw himself worth 60001. than he purchased a small estate with the greatest part of it, and retired into the country, where he married the daughter of an unbeneficed clergyman; a young lady, who, though she had neither beauty nor fortune, had recommended herself to his choice entirely by her good humour, of which she possessed a very large share.

With this woman he had, during twenty-five years, lived a life more resembling the model which certain poets ascribe to the golden age than any of those patterns which are furnished by the present times. By her he had four children; but none of them arrived at maturity except only one daughter, whom, in vulgar language, he and his wife had spoiled; that is, had educated with the utmost tenderness and fondness; which she returned to such a degree, that she had actually refused a very extraordinary match with a gentleman a little turned of forty, because she could not bring herself to part with her parents.

The young lady whom Mr Nightingale had intended for his son was a near neighbour of his brother, and an acquaintance of his niece; and in reality it was upon the account of this project ed match that he was now come to town; not indeed to forward, but to dissuade his brother

from a purpose which he conceived would inevitably ruin his nephew; for he foresaw no other event from an union with Miss Harris, notwithstanding the largeness of her fortune, as neither her person nor mind seemed to him to promise any kind of matrimonial felicity; for she was very tall, very thin, very ugly, very affected, very silly, and very ill-natured.

His brother, therefore, no sooner mentioned the marriage of his nephew with Miss Miller, than he expressed the utmost satisfaction; and when the father had very bitterly reviled his son, and pronounced sentence of beggary upon him, the uncle began in the following manner.

"If you was a little cooler, brother, I would ask you, whether you love your son for his sake or for your own? You would answer, I suppose, and so I suppose you think, for his sake; and doubtless it is his happiness which you intended in the marriage you proposed for him.

"Now, brother, to prescribe rules of happiness to others hath always appeared to me very absurd, and to insist on doing this, very tyrannical. It is a vulgar error, I know; but it is nevertheless an error. And if this be absurd in other things, it is mostly so in the affair of marriage, the happiness of which depends entirely on the affection which subsists between the parties.

"I have therefore always thought it unreasonable in parents to desire to chuse for their children on this occasion; since to force affection is an impossible attempt; nay, so much doth love abhor force, that I know not whether through an unfortunate, but incurable perverseness in our natures, it may not be even impatient of persuasion.

"It is, however, true, that though a parent will not, I think, wisely prescribe, he ought to be consulted on this occasion; and, in strictness, perhaps, should at least have a negative voice. My nephew, therefore, I own, in marrying without asking your advice, hath been guilty of a fault. But honestly speaking, brother, have you not a little promoted this fault? Have not your frequent declarations on this subject given him a moral certainty of your refusal, where there was any deficiency in point of fortune? nay, doth not your present anger arise solely from that deficiency? And if he hath failed in his duty here, did you not as much exceed that authority, when you absolutely bargained with him for a woman without his knowledge, whom you yourself never saw, and whom, if you had seen and known as well as I, it must have been madness in you to have ever thought of bringing her into your family.

"Still I own my nephew in a fault; but surely it is not an unpardonable fault. He hath acted, indeed, without your consent, in a matter in which he ought to have asked it; but it is in a matter in which his interest is principally concerned. You yourself must and will acknowledge, that you consulted his interest only;

and if he unfortunately differed from you, and hath been mistaken in his notion of happiness, will you, brother, if you love your son, carry him still wider from the point? will you in crease the ill consequences of his simple choice? will you endeavour to make an event certain mi sery to him which may accidentally prove so? In a word, brother, because he hath put it out of your power to make his circumstances as affluent as you would, will you distress them as much as you can?"

By the force of the true catholic faith St Antony won upon the fishes. Orpheus and Amphion went a little farther, and by the charms of music enchanted things merely inanimate. Wonderful both! but neither history nor fable have ever yet ventured to record an instance of any one, who by force of argument and reason hath triumphed over habitual avarice.

Mr Nightingale, the father, instead of attempting to answer his brother, contented himself with only observing, that they had always differed in their sentiments concerning the education of their children. "I wish," said he, "brother, you would have confined your care to your own daughter, and never have troubled yourself with my son, who hath, I believe, as little profited by your precepts as by your example:" For young Nightingale was his uncle's godson, and had lived more with him than with his father; so that the uncle had often declared, he loved his nephew almost equal with his own child.

Jones fell into raptures with this good gentleman; and when, after much persuasion, they found the father more and more irritated, instead of appeased, Jones conducted the uncle to his nephew at the house of Mrs Miller.

CHAP. IX.

Containing strange matters.

Ar his return to his lodgings, Jones found the situation of affairs greatly altered from what they had been at his departure. The mother, the two daughters, and young Mr Nightingale, were now sat down to supper together, when the uncle was, at his own desire, introduced without any ceremony into the company, to all of whom he was well known; for he had several times visited his nephew at that house.

The old gentleman immediately walked up to Miss Nancy, saluted and wished her joy, as he did afterwards the mother and the other sister: and lastly, he paid the proper compliments to his nephew, with the same good humour and courtesy as if his nephew had married his equal or superior in fortune, with all the previous requisites first performed.

Miss Nancy and her supposed husband both turned pale, and looked rather foolish than other

wise upon the occasion; but Mrs Miller took the first opportunity of withdrawing; and having sent for Jones into the dining-room, she threw herself at his feet, and in a most passionate flood of tears, called him her good angel, the preserver of her poor little family, with many other respectful and endearing appellations, and made him every acknowledgment which the highest benefit can extract from the most grateful heart.

After the first gust of her passion was a little over, which she declared if she had not vented would have burst her, she proceeded to inform Mr Jones, that all matters were settled between Mr Nightingale and her daughter, and that they were to be married the next morning; at which Mr Jones having expressed much pleasure, the poor woman fell again into a fit of joy and thanksgiving, which he at length with difficulty silenced, and prevailed on her to return with him back to the company, whom they found in the same good humour in which they had left them.

This little society now passed two or three very agreeable hours together, in which the uncle, who was a very great lover of his bottle, had so well plied his nephew, that this latter, though not drunk, began to be somewhat flustered; and now Mr Nightingale taking the old gentleman with him up stairs into the apartment he had lately occupied, unbosomed himself as follows:

"As you have been always the best and kindest of uncles to me, and as you have shewn such unparalleled goodness in forgiving this match, which, to be sure, may be thought a little improvident, I should never forgive myself if I attempted to deceive you in any thing." He then confessed the truth, and opened the whole affair.

"How, Jack!" said the old gentleman, "and are you really then not married to this young woman?"-"No, upon my honour," answered Nightingale, "I have told you the simple truth."

My dear boy," cries the uncle, kissing him, "I am heartily glad to hear it. I never was better pleased in my life. If you had been married, I should have assisted you as much as was in my power to have made the best of a bad matter; but there is a great difference between considering a thing which is already done and irrecoverable, and that which is yet to do. Let your reason have fair play, Jack, and you will see this match in so foolish and preposterous a light, that there will be no need of any dissuasive arguments." "How, sir!" replies young Nightingale, "is there this difference between having already done an act, and being in honour enga ged to do it?"-" Pugh !" said the uncle," honour is a creature of the world's making; and the world hath the power of a creator over it, and may govern and direct it as they please. Now, you well know how trivial these breaches of contract are thought; even the grossest make but the wonder and conversation of a day. Is there a man who will be afterwards more back

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