The poor fellow, therefore, scarce refrained from a tear at the present sight. He told Jones, he was heartily sorry for his misfortunes, and begged him to consider if he could be of any manner of service. "Perhaps, sir," said he, you may want a little matter of money upon this occasion; if you do, sir, what little I have is heartily at your service." Jones shook him very heartily by the hand, and gave him many thanks for the kind offer he had made; but answered, he had not the least want of that kind. Upon which George began to press his services more eagerly than before. Jones again thanked him, with assurances that he wanted nothing which was in the power of any man living to give. "Come, come, my good master," answered George, "do not take the matter so much to heart; things may end better than you imagine. To be sure you an't the first gentleman who hath killed a man, and yet come off."-" You are wide of the matter, George," said Partridge; "the gentleman is not dead, nor like to die. Don't disturb my master at present, for he is troubled about a matter in which it is not in your power to do him any good."- -"You don't know what I may be able to do, Mr Partridge," answered George; "If his concern is about my young lady, I have some news to tell my master."-" What do you say, Mr George?" cried Jones: "Hath any thing lately happened in which my Sophia is concerned? My Sophia! how dares such a wretch as I mention her so profanely!"-" I hope she will be yours yet," answered George: Why, yes, sir, I have something to tell you about her. Madam Western hath just brought Madam Sophia home, and there hath been a terrible to do. I could not possibly learn the very right of it; but my master he hath been in a vast big passion, and so was Madam Western, and I heard her say, as she went out of doors into her chair, that she would never set her foot in master's house again. I don't know what's the matter, not I, but every thing was very quiet when I came out; but Robin, who waited at supper, said, he had never seen the squire for a long while in such good humour with young madam; that he kissed her several times, and swere she should be her own mistress, and he never would think of confining her any more. I thought this news would please you, and so I slipped out, though it was so late, to inform you of it." Mr Jones assured George that it did greatly please him; for though he should never more presume to lift his eyes towards that incomparable creature, nothing could so much relieve his misery, as the satisfaction he should always have in hearing of her welfare. 66 The rest of the conversation which passed at the visit is not important enough to be here related. The reader will therefore forgive us this abrupt breaking off, and be pleased to hear how this great good will of the squire towards his daughter was brought about. Mrs Western, on her first arrival at her brother's lodging, began to set forth the great honours and advantages which would accrue to the family by the match with Lord Fellamar, which her niece had absolutely refused; in which refusal, when the squire took the part of his daughter, she fell immediately into the most violent passion, and so irritated and provoked the squire, that neither his patience nor his prudence could bear it any longer; upon which there ensued between them both so warm a bout at altercation, that perhaps the regions of Billingsgate never equalled it. In the heat of this scolding Mrs Western departed, and had consequently no leisure to acquaint her brother with the letter which Sophia received, which might have possibly produced ill effects; but, to say truth, I believe it never once occurred to her memory at this time. When Mrs Western was gone, Sophia, who had been hitherto silent, as well, indeed, from necessity as inclination, began to return the compliment which her father had made her in taking her part against her aunt, by taking his likewise against the lady. This was the first time of her so doing, and it was in the highest degree acceptable to the squire. Again he remembered that Mr Allworthy had insisted on an entire relinquishment of all violent means; and, indeed, as he made no doubt but that Jones would be hanged, he did not in the least question succeeding with his daughter by fair means: he now, therefore, once more gave a loose to his natural fondness for her, which had such an effect on the dutiful, grateful, tender, and affec tionate heart of Sophia, that had her honour given to Jones, and something else perhaps in which he was concerned, been removed, I much doubt whether she would not have sacrificed herself to a man she did not like to have obliged her father. She promised him she would make it the whole business of her life to oblige him, and would never marry any man against his consent; which brought the old man so near to his highest happiness, that he was resolved to take the other step, and went to bed completely drunk. CHAP. III. Allworthy visits old Nightingale, with a strange discovery that he made on that occasion. THE morning after these things had happened, Mr Allworthy went, according to his promise, to visit old Nightingale, with whom his authority was so great, that, after having sat with him three hours, he at last prevailed with him to consent to see his son. Here an accident happened of a very extraordinary. kind; one, indeed, of those strange chances, whence very good and grave men have concluded, that Providence often interposes in the discovery of the most secret villainy, in order to caution men from quitting the paths of honesty, however warily they tread in those of vice. Mr Allworthy, at his entrance into Mr Nightingale's, saw Black George. He took no notice of him, nor did Black George imagine he had perceived him. However, when their conversation on the principal point was over, Allworthy asked Nightingale, whether he knew one George Seagrim, and upon what business he came to his house. "Yes," answered Nightingale, "I know him very well, and a most extraordinary fellow he is, who, in these days, hath been able to hoard up 5001. from renting a very small estate of 301. a-year."-" And is this the story which he hath told you?" cries Allworthy.-" Nay, it is true, I promise you," said Nightingale, "for I have the money now in my own hands, in five bank bills, which I am to lay out either in a mortgage, or in some purchase in the north of England." The bank bills were no sooner produced at Allworthy's desire, than he blessed himself at the strangeness of the discovery. He presently told Mr Nightingale, that these bank bills were formerly his, and then acquainted him with the whole affair. As there are no men who complain more of the frauds of business than highwaymen, gamesters, and other thieves of that kind; so there are none who so bitterly exclaim against the frauds of gamesters, &c. as usurers, brokers, and other thieves of this kind; whether it be that the one way of cheating is a discountenance or reflection upon the other, or that money, which is the common mistress of all cheats, makes them regard each other in the light of rivals; but Nightingale no sooner heard the story, than he exclaimed against the fellow in terms much severer than the justice and honesty of Allworthy had bestowed on him. Allworthy desired Nightingale to retain both the money and the secret till he should hear farther from him; and if he should, in the mean time, see the fellow, that he would not take the least notice to him of the discovery which he had made. He then returned to his lodgings, where he found Mrs Miller in a very dejected condition, on account of the information she had received from her son-in-law. Mr Allworthy, with great cheerfulness, told her, that he had much good news to communicate; and with little further preface acquainted her, that he had brought Mr Nightingale to consent to see his son, and did not in the least doubt to effect a perfect reconciliation between them; though he found the father more soured by another accident of the same kind which had happened in the family. He then mentioned the running away of the uncle's daughter, which he had been told by the old gentleman, and which Mrs Miller, and her son-in-law, did not yet know. The reader may suppose that Mrs Miller received this account with great thankfulness, and no less pleasure; but so uncommon was her friendship to Jones, that I am not certain whether the uneasiness she suffered for his sake did not overbalance her satisfaction at hearing a piece of news tending so much to the happiness of her own family; nor whether even this very news, as it reminded her of the obligations she had to Jones, did not hurt as well as please her, when her grateful heart said to her, " While my own family is happy, how miserable is the poor creature to whose generosity we owe the beginning of all this happiness!" Allworthy having left her a little while to chew the cud, if I may use that expression, on these first tidings, told her, he had still something more to impart, which, he believed, would give her pleasure. "I think," said he, "I have discovered a pretty considerable treasure belonging to the young gentleman, your friend; but, perhaps, indeed, his present situation may be such that it will be of no service to him." The latter part of the speech gave Mrs Miller to understand who was meant, and she answered, with a sigh, "I hope not, sir."-" I hope so too," cries Allworthy," with all my heart. But my nephew told me this morning, he had heard a very bad account of the affair.' "Good heaven, sir!" said she: “Well, I must not speak; and yet it is certainly very hard to be obliged to hold one's tongue when one hears—” "Madam," said Allworthy," you may say whatever you please. You know me too well to think I have a prejudice against any one; and as for that young man, I assure you I should be heartily pleased to find he could acquit himself of every thing, and particularly of this sad affair. You can testify the affection I have formerly borne him. The world, I know, censured me for loving him so much. I did not withdraw that affection from him without thinking I had the justest cause. Believe me, Mrs Miller, I should be glad to find I have been mistaken." Mrs Miller was going eagerly to reply, when a servant acquainted her, that a gentleman without desired to speak with her immediately. Allworthy then enquired for his nephew, and was told, that he had been for some time in his room with the gentleman who used to come to him; and whom Mr Allworthy guessing rightly to be Mr Dowling, he desired presently to speak with him. When Dowling attended, Allworthy put the case of the bank-notes to him, without mentioning any name, and asked in what manner such a person might be punished. To which Dowling answered, he thought he might be indicted on the Black Act; but said, as it was a matter of some nicety, it would be proper to go to counsel. He said, he was to attend counsel presently upon an affair of Mr Western's, and if Mr Allworthy pleased he would lay the case before them. This was agreed to; and then Mrs Miller, opening the door, cried, "I ask pardon, I did not know you had company;" but Mr Allworthy desired her to come in, saying, he had finished his business. Upon which Mr Dowling withdrew, and Mrs Miller introduced Mr Nightingale, the younger, to return thanks for the great kindness done him by Mr Allworthy; but she had scarce patience to let the young gentleman finish his speech, before she interrupted him, saying, "O, sir, Mr Nightingale brings great news about poor Mr Jones. He hath been to see the wounded gentleman, who is out of all danger of death; and, what is more, declares he fell upon poor Mr Jones himself, and beat him. I am sure, sir, you would not have Mr Jones be a coward. If I was a man myself, I am sure, if any man was to strike me, I should draw my sword. Do, pray, my dear, tell Mr Allworthy; tell him all yourself." Nightingale then confirmed what Mrs Miller had said, and concluded with many handsome things of Jones, who was, he said, one of the best-natured fellows in the world, and not in the least inclined to be quarrelsome. Here Nightingale was going to cease, when Mrs Miller again begged him to relate all the many dutiful expres sions he had heard him make use of towards Mr Allworthy. "To say the utmost good of Mr Allworthy," cries Nightingale," is doing no more than strict justice, and can have no merit in it; but indeed I must say, no man can be more sensible of the obligations he hath to so good a man than is poor Jones. Indeed, sir, I am convinced the weight of your displeasure is the heaviest burden he lies under. He hath of ten lamented it to me; and hath as often protested, in the most soleinn manner, he hath never been intentionally guilty of any offence towards you; nay, he hath sworn he would rather die a thousand deaths than he would have his conscience upbraid him with one disrespectful, ungrateful, or undutiful thought towards you.But I ask pardon, sir; I am afraid I presume to intermeddle too far in so tender a point.""You have spoke no more than what a Christian ought," cries Mrs Miller." Indeed, Mr Nightingale," answered Allworthy, "I applaud your generous friendship, and I wish he may merit it of you. I confess, I am glad to hear the report you bring from this unfortunate gentleman; and, if that matter should turn out to be as you represent it, (and, indeed, I doubt nothing of what you say,) I may, perhaps, in time, be brought to think better than lately I have of this young man; for this good gentle woman here, nay, all who know me, can witness, that I loved him as dearly as if he had been my own son. Indeed, I have considered him remember the innocent, the helpless situation as a child sent by fortune to my care. I still in which I found him: I feel the tender pressure of his little hands at this moment. He words he ceased, and the tears stood in his was my darling, indeed he was." At which eyes. lead us into fresh matters, we will here stop to As the answer which Mrs Miller made may account for the visible alteration in Mr Allworthy's mind, and the abatement of his anger to Jones. Revolutions of this kind, it is true, do frequently occur in histories and dramatic writers, for no other reason than because the history or play draws to a conclusion, and are jus tified by authority of authors; yet though we insist upon as much authority as any author whatever, we shall use this power very sparingly, and never but when we are driven to it by necessity, which we do not at present foresee will happen in this work. worthy, was occasioned by a letter he had just This alteration, then, in the mind of Mr Allreceived from Mr Square, and which we shall give the reader in the beginning of the next chapter. CHAP. IV. Containing two Letters in very different styles. "MY WORTHY FRIEND, "I INFORMED you in my last, that I was forby experience rather to increase than lessen the bidden the use of the waters, as they were found quaint you with a piece of news, which, I besymptoms of my distemper. I must now aclieve, will afflict my friends more than it hath afflicted me. have informed me, that there is no hopes of my Dr Harrington and Dr Brewster recovery. of philosophy is to learn to die; I will not, "I have somewhere read, that the great use therefore, so far disgrace mine, as to shew any surprise at receiving a lesson which I must be thought to have so long studied. Yet, to say the truth, one page of the Gospel teaches this lesson better than all the volumes of ancient or modern philosophers. The assurance it gives us of another life, is a much stronger support to a good mind, than all the consolations that emptiness or satiety of our enjoyments here; or are drawn from the necessity of nature; the any other topic of those declamations which are sometimes capable of arming our minds with a stubborn patience in bearing the thoughts of death, but never of raising them to a real contempt of it, and much less of making us think it as a real good. I would not here be understood to throw the horrid censure of atheism, or even the absolute denial of immortality, on all who are called philosophers. Many of that sect, as well ancient as modern, have, from the light of reason, discovered some hopes of a future state; but, in reality, that light was so faint and glimmering, and the hopes were so uncertain and precarious, that it may be justly doubted on which side their belief turned. Plato himself concludes his Phaedon with declaring, that his best arguments amount only to raise a probability; and Cicero himself seems rather to profess an inclination to believe, than any actual belief, in the doctrines of immortality. As to myself, to be very sincere with you, I never was much in earnest in this faith, till I was in earnest a Christian. "You will perhaps wonder at the latter expression; but I assure you it hath not been till very lately that I could, with truth, call myself so. The pride of philosophy had intoxicated my reason; and the sublimest of all wisdom appeared to me, as it did to the Greeks of old, to be foolishness. God hath, however, been so gracious to shew me my error in time, and to bring me into the way of truth, before I sunk into utter darkness for ever. "I find myself beginning to grow weak; I shall, therefore, hasten to the main purpose of this letter. "When I reflect on the actions of my past life, I know of nothing which sits heavier on my conscience, than the injustice I have been guilty of to that poor wretch, your adopted son. I have, indeed, not only connived at the villainy of others, but been myself active in injustice towards him. Believe me, my dear friend, when I tell you, on the word of a dying man, he hath been basely injured. As to the principal fact, upon the misrepresentation of which you discarded him, I solemnly assure you he is innocent. When you lay upon your supposed deathbed, he was the only person in the house who testified any real concern; and what happened afterwards arose from the wildness of his joy on your recovery; and, I am sorry to say it, from the baseness of another person-(but it is my desire to justify the innocent, and to accuse none). Believe me, my friend, this young man hath the noblest generosity of heart, the most perfect capacity for friendship, the highest integrity, and indeed every virtue which can ennoble a man. He hath some faults; but among them is not to be numbered the least want of duty or gratitude towards you. On the contrary, I am satisfied, when you dismissed him from your house, his heart bled for you more than for himself. "Worldly motives were the wicked and base reasons of my concealing this from you so long; to reveal it now, I can have no inducement but the desire of serving the cause of truth, of doing right to the innocent, and of making all the amends in my power for a past offence. I hope "I am not at all surprised at hearing from your worthy nephew a fresh instance of the villainy of Mr Square the atheist's young pupil. I shall not wonder at any murders he may commit; and heartily pray that your own blood may not seal up his final commitment to the place of wailing and gnashing of teeth. "Though you cannot want sufficient calls to repentance for the many unwarrantable weaknesses exemplified in your behaviour to this wretch, so much to the prejudice of your own lawful family, and of your character; I say, though these may sufficiently be supposed to prick and goad your conscience at this season, I should yet be wanting to my duty, if I spared to give you some admonition in order to bring you to a due sense of your errors. I therefore pray you seriously to consider the judgment which is likely to overtake this wicked villain; and let it serve at least as a warning to you, that you may not for the future despise the advice of one who is so indefatigable in his prayers for your welfare. "Had not my hand been with-held from due correction, I had scourged much of this diabolical spirit out of a boy, of whom, from his infancy, I discovered the devil had taken such entire possession; but reflections of this kind now come too late. "I am sorry you have given away the living of Westerton so hastily. I should have applied on that occasion earlier, had I thought you would not have acquainted me previous to the disposition. Your objection to pluralities is being righteous over-much; if there were any crime in the practice, so many godly men would not agree to it. If the vicar of Aldergrove should die, (as we hear he is in a declining way,) I hope you will think of me; since I am certain you must be convinced of my most sincere attachment to your highest welfare; a welfare to which all worldly considerations are as trifling This was the first time Thwackum ever wrote in this authoritative style to Mr Allworthy, and of this he had afterwards sufficient reason to repent, as in the case of those who mistake the highest degree of goodness for the lowest degree of weakness. Allworthy had indeed never liked this man. He knew him to be proud and illnatured; he also knew that his divinity itself was tinctured with his temper, and such as in many respects he himself did by no means approve; but he was at the same time an excellent scholar, and most indefatigable in teaching the two lads. Add to this, the strict severity of his life and manners, an unimpeached honesty, and a most devout attachment to religion. So that, upon the whole, though Allworthy did not esteem nor love the man, yet he could never bring himself to part with a tutor to the boys, who was, both by learning and industry, extremely well qualified for his office; and he hoped, that as they were bred up in his own house, and under his own eye, he should be able to correct whatever was wrong in Thwack um's instructions. CHAP. V. In which the History is continued. MR ALLWORTHY, in his last speech, had recollected some tender ideas concerning Jones, which had brought tears into the good man's eyes. This Mrs Miller observing, said, "Yes, yes, sir, your goodness to this poor young man is known, notwithstanding all your care to conceal it; but there is not a single syllable of truth in what those villains said. Mr Nightingale hath now discovered the whole matter. It seems these fellows were employed by a lord, who is a rival of poor Mr Jones, to have pressed him on board a ship. I assure them, I don't know who they will press next. Mr Nightingale here hath seen the officer himself, who is a very pretty gentle man, and hath told him all, and is very sorry for what he undertook, which he would never have done, had he known Mr Jones to have been a gentleman; but he was told that he was a common strolling vagabond." Allworthy stared at all this, and declared he was a stranger to every word she said. "Yes, sir," answered she, "I believe you are. It is a very different story, I believe, from what those fellows told the lawyer." "What lawyer, madam? what is it you mean?" said Allworthy.-" Nay, nay," said she, "this is so like you to deny your own goodness; but Mr Nightingale here saw him.""Saw whom, madam?" answered he.-" Why, your lawyer, sir," said she," that you so kindly sent to inquire into the affair.""I am still in the dark, upon my honour," said Allworthy. -“Why, then, do you tell him, my dear sir,' cried she." Indeed, sir," said Nightingale, "I did see that very lawyer, who went from you when I came into the room, at an alehouse at Aldersgate, in company with two of the fellows who were employed by Lord Fellamar to press Mr Jones, and who were by that means present at the unhappy rencounter between him and Mr Fitzpatrick.' "I own, sir,” said Mrs Miller, "when I saw this gentleman come into the room to you, I told Mr Nightingale that I apprehended you had sent him thither to enquire into the affair." Allworthy shewed marks of astonishment in his countenance at this news, and was indeed for two or three minutes struck dumb by it. At last, addressing himself to Mr Nightingale, he said, "I must confess myself, sir, more surprised at what you tell me, than I have ever been before at any thing in my whole life. Are you certain this was the gentleman?" -" I am most certain," answered Nightingale. -" At Aldersgate?" cries Allworthy. "And was you in company with this lawyer and the two fellows?"" I was, sir," said the other, I very near half an hour."" Well, sir," said Allworthy," and in what manner did the lawyer behave? did you hear all that past between him and the fellows ?"-" No, sir," answered Nightingale," they had been together before I came. In my presence the lawyer said little; but after I had several times examined the fellows, who persisted in a story directly contrary to what I had heard from Mr Jones, and which I find by Mr Fitzpatrick was a rank falsehood, the lawyer then desired the fellows to say nothing but what was the truth, and seemed to speak so much in favour of Mr Jones, that when I saw the same person with you, I concluded your goodness had prompted you to send him thither."-" And did you not send him thither?" says Mrs Miller." Indeed I did not," answered Allworthy; "nor did I know he had gone on such an errand till this moment."-" I see it all!" said Mrs Miller; " upon my soul, I see it all! No wonder they have been closeted so close lately. Son Nightingale, let me beg you run for these fellows immediately-find them out if they are above ground. I will go myself." -"Dear madam," said Allworthy, "be patient, and do me the favour to send a servant up stairs to call Mr Dowling hither, if he be in the house, or, if not, Mr Blifil." Mrs Miller went out muttering something to herself, and presently returned with an answer, that Mr Dowling was gone; but that the t'other, as she called him, was coming. Allworthy was of a cooler disposition than the |