nea, with so much ease and dexterity. Booth answered, he did not know his name; for all that he knew of him was, that he was the most impudent and illiterate fellow he had ever seen; and that, by his own account, he was the author of most of the wonderful productions of the age. "Perhaps," said he, "it may look uncharitable in me, to blame you for your generosity; but I am convinced the fellow hath not the least merit or capacity; and you have subscribed to the most horrid trash that ever was published."

"I care not a farthing what he publishes," cries the Colonel; "Heaven forbid, I should be obliged to read half the nonsense I have subscribed to."

"But don't you think," said Booth, “that by such indiscriminate encouragement of authors, you do a real mischief to society? By propagating the subscriptions of such fellows, people are tired out, and withhold their contributions to men of real merit; and, at the same time, you are contributing to fill the world, not only with nonsense, but with all the scurrility, indecency, and profaneness with which the age abounds; and with which all bad writers supply the defect of genius."

Pugh!" cries the Colonel, "I never consider these matters. Good or bad, it is all one to me; but there's an acquaintance of mine, and a man of great wit too, that thinks the worst the best, as they are the surest to make him laugh." "I ask pardon, sir," says the serjeant; "but I wish your honour would consider your own affairs a little; for it grows late in the evening." "The serjeant says true," answered the Colonel. "What is it you intend to do?'

"Faith, Colonel, I know not what I shall do. My affairs seems so irreparable, that I have been driving them, as much as possibly I could, from my mind. If I was to suffer alone, I think, I could bear them with some philosophy; but when I consider who are to be the sharers in my fortune -the dearest of children, and the best, the worthiest, and the noblest of women,-pardon me, my dear friend; these sensations are above me, they convert me into a woman; they drive me to despair, to madness!"

The Colonel advised him to command himself; and told him, this was not the way to retrieve his fortune. "As to me, my dear Booth," said he, "you know you may command me as far as is really within my power."

Booth answered eagerly, that he was so far from expecting any more favours from the Colonel, that he resolved not to let him know any thing of his misfortune. "No, my dear friend," cries he, "I am too much obliged to you already;" and then burst into many fervent expressions of gratitude; till the Colonel himself stopped him, and begged him to give an account of the debt or debts for which he was detained in that horrid place.

Booth answered, he could not be very exact;

but he feared it was upwards of four hundred pounds.

"It is but three hundred pounds, indeed, sir," cries the serjeant; " if you can raise three hundred pounds, you are a free man this moment.”

Booth, who did not apprehend the generous meaning of the serjeant, as well as, I believe, the reader will, answered, he was mistaken; that he had computed his debts, and they amounted to upwards of four hundred pounds: nay, that the bailiff had shewn him writs for above that sum.

"Whether your debts are three or four hundred," cries the Colonel," the present business is to give bail only; and then you will have some time to try your friends. I think you might get a company abroad; and then I would advance the money on the security of half your pay: and, in the mean time, I will be one of your bail with all my heart."

While Booth poured forth his gratitude for all this kindness, the serjeant ran down stairs for the bailiff; and shortly after returned with him into the room.

The bailiff being informed that the Colonel offered to be bail for his prisoner, answered a little surlily, "Well, sir, and who will be the other? You know, I suppose, there must be two; and I must have time to inquire after them."

The Colonel replied, "I believe, sir, I am well known to be responsible for a much larger sum than your demand on this gentleman; but if your forms require two, I suppose the serjeant here will do for the other."

"I don't know the serjeant, nor you neither, sir," cries Bondum; " and if you propose yourselves bail for the gentleman, I must have time to inquire after you."

"You need very little time to inquire after me," says the Colonel; " for I can send for several of the law, whom I suppose you know, to satisfy you; but consider, it is very late."

"Yes, sir," answered Bondum, "I do consider it is too late for the Captain to be bailed to-night."

“What do you mean by too late?” cries the Colonel.

"I mean, sir, that I must search the office, and that is now shut up: for if my lord mayor and the court of aldermen would be bound for him, I would not discharge him, till I had searched the office."

"How, sir," cries the Colonel, “hath the law of England no more regard for the liberty of the subject, than to suffer such fellows as you to detain a man in custody for debt, when he can give undeniable security?"

"Don't fellow me," said the bailiff; "I am as good a fellow as yourself, I believe, though you have that ribbon in your hat there."

"Do you know who you are speaking to?"

said the serjeant. "Do you know you are talking to a colonel of the army?"

"What's a colonel of the army to me?" cries the bailiff. "I have had as good as he in my custody before now."

"And a member of parliament;"-cries the serjeant.

"Is the gentleman a member of parliament ? -Well, and what harm have I said?—I am sure I meant no harm, and if his honour is offended, I ask his pardon; to be sure, his honour must know that the sheriff is answerable for all the writs in the office, though they were never so many, and I am answerable to the sheriff. I am sure the Captain can't say that I have shewn him any manner of incivility since he hath been here. And I hope, honourable sir," cries he, turning to the Colonel," you don't take anything amiss that I said, or meant, by way of disrespect, or any such matter. I did not, indeed, as the gentleman here says, know who I was speaking to; but I did not say any thing uncivil as I know of, and I hope no offence."

The Colonel was more easily pacified than might have been expected, and told the bailiff that if it was against the rules of law to discharge Mr Booth that evening, he must be contented. He then addressed himself to his friend, and began to prescribe comfort and patience to him; saying he must rest satisfied with his confinement that night, and the next morning he promised to visit him again.

Booth answered, that as for himself, the lying one night in any place was very little worth his regard. "You and I, my dear friend, have both spent our evening in a worse situation than I shall in this house. All my concern is for my poor Amelia, whose sufferings on account of my absence I know, and I feel with unspeakable tenderness. Could I be assured she was tolerably easy, I could be contented in chains or in a dungeon."

"Give yourself no concern on her account," said the Colonel, "I will wait on her myself, though I break an engagement for that purpose, and will give her such assurances as I am convinced will make her perfectly easy."

Booth embraced his friend, and weeping over him, paid his acknowledgments with tears, for all his goodness. In words, indeed, he was not able to thank him; for gratitude joining with his other passions almost choaked him, and stopped his utterance.

After a short scene, in which nothing past worth recounting, the Colonel bid his friend good night; and leaving the serjeant with him, made the best of his way back to Amelia.

CHAP. VII.

Worthy a very serious perusal.

THE Colonel found Amelia sitting very disconsolate with Mrs Atkinson. He entered the

room with an air of great gaiety, assured Amelia that her husband was perfectly well, and that he hoped the next day he would again be with her.

Amelia was a little comforted at this account; and vented many grateful expressions to the Colonel, for his unparalleled friendship, as she was pleased to call it. She could not, however, help giving way soon after to a sigh, at the thoughts of her husband's bondage, and declared that night would be the longest she had ever seen.

"This lady, madam," cries the Colonel, "must endeavour to make it shorter. And if you will give me leave, I will join in the same endeavour." Then, after some more consolatory speeches, the Colonel attempted to give a gay turn to the discourse; and said, "I was engaged to have spent this evening disagreeably at Ranelagh, with a set of company I did not like. How vastly am I obliged to you, dear Mrs Booth, that I pass it so infinitely more to my satisfaction!"

66

"Indeed, Colonel," said Amelia, "I am convinced that to a mind so rightly turned as yours, there must be a much sweeter relish in the highest offices of friendship, than in any pleasures which the gayest public places can afford." Upon my word, madam," said the Colonel, you now do me no more than justice. I have, and always had, the utmost indifference for such pleasures. Indeed, I hardly allow them worthy of that name; or, if they are so at all, it is in a very low degree. In my opinion, the highest friendship must always lead us to the highest pleasure."

Here Amelia entered into a long dissertation on friendship, in which she pointed several times directly at the Colonel as the hero of her tale.

The Colonel highly applauded all her sentiments; and when he could not avoid taking the compliment to himself, he received it with a most respectful bow. He then tried his hand likewise at description, in which he found means to repay all Amelia's panegyric in kind. This though he did with all possible delicacy, yet a curious observer might have been apt to suspect that it was chiefly on her account that the Colonel had avoided the masquerade.

In discourses of this kind they past the evening, till it was very late, the Colonel never offering to stir from his chair before the clock had struck one; when he thought that decency obliged him to take his leave.

As soon as he was gone, Mrs Atkinson said to Mrs Booth, "I think, madam, you told me this afternoon, that the Colonel was married."

Amelia answered, that she did so.

"I think likewise, madam," said Mrs Atkinson, you was acquainted with the Colonel's lady."

Amelia answered, that she had been extremely intimate with her abroad.

"Is she young and handsome?" said Mrs Atkinson. "In short, pray, was it a match of love or convenience?"

Amelia answered, entirely of love, she believed, on his side; for that the lady had little or no fortune.

"I am very glad to hear it," said Mrs Atkinson; "for I am sure the Colonel is in love with somebody. I think I never saw a more luscious picture of love drawn than that which he was pleased to give us as the portraiture of friendship. I have read, indeed, of Pylades and Orestes, Damon and Pythias, and other great friends of old; nay, I sometimes flatter myself that I am capable of being a friend myself: but as for that fine, soft, tender, delicate passion, which he was pleased to describe, I am convinced there must go a he and a she to the composition."

"Upon my word, my dear, you are mistaken," cries Amelia. 66 If you had known the friendship which hath always subsisted between the Colonel and my husband, you would not imagine it possible for any description to exceed it. Nay, I think his behaviour this very day is sufficient to convince you."

"I own what he hath done to-day hath great merit," said Mrs Atkinson; "and yet from what he hath said to-night-You will pardon me, dear madam; perhaps I am too quick-sighted in my observations; nay, I am afraid I am even impertinent."

"Fie upon it!" cries Amelia," how can you talk in that strain? do you imagine I expect ceremony?-Pray speak what you think with the utmost freedom."

"Did he not then," said Mrs Atkinson, "repeat the words, the finest woman in the world, more than once? did he not make use of an expression which might have become the mouth of Oroondates himself?-If I remember, the words were these, That had he been Alexander the Great, he should have thought it more glory to have wiped off a tear from the bright eyes of Statira, than to have conquered fifty worlds."

"Did he say so?" cries Amelia.-"I think he did say something like it; but my thoughts were so full of my husband that I took little notice. But what would you infer from what he said? I hope you don't think he is in love with me!" "I hope he doth not think so himself," answered Mrs Atkinson; "though when he mentioned the bright eyes of Statira, he fixed his own eyes on yours with the most languishing air I ever beheld."

Amelia was going to answer, when the serjeant arrived, and then she immediately fell to enquiring after her husband; and received such satisfactory answers to all her many questions concerning him, that she expressed great pleasure. These ideas so possessed her mind, that without once casting her thoughts on any other matters, she took her leave of the serjeant and his lady, and repaired to bed to her children, in a room which Mrs Atkinson had provided her in the same house; where we will at present wish her a good night.

CHAP. VIII.

Consisting of grave matters.

WHILE innocence and chearful hope, in spite of the malice of fortune, closed the eyes of the gentle Amelia, on her homely bed, and she enjoyed a sweet and profound sleep; the Colonel lay restless all night on his down: his mind was affected with a kind of ague fit; sometimes scorched up with flaming desires, and again chilled with the coldest despair.

There is a time, I think, according to one of our poets, When lust and envy sleep. This, I suppose, is when they are well gorged with the food they most delight in ; but while either of these hunger,

Nor poppy, nor mandragora,

Nor all the drowsy syrups of the East,
Will ever medicine them to slumber.

The Colonel was, at present, unhappily tormented by both these fiends. His last evening's conversation with Amelia had done his business effectually. The many kind words she had spoken to him, the many kind looks she had given him, as being, she conceived, the friend and preserver of her husband, had made an entire conquest of his heart. Thus, the very love which she bore him, as the person to whom her little family were to owe their preservation and happiness, inspired him with the thoughts of sinking them all in the lowest abyss of ruin and misery; and while she smiled with all her sweetness on the supposed friend of her husband, she was converting that friend into his most bitter enemy.

Friendship, take heed; if woman interfere,
Be sure the hour of thy destruction's near.

These are the lines of Vanbrugh; and the sentiment is better than the poetry. To say the truth, as a handsome wife is the cause and cement of many false friendships, she is often too liable to destroy the real ones.

Thus the object of the Colonel's lust very plainly appears; but the object of his envy may be more difficult to discover. Nature and fortune had seemed to strive with a kind of rivalship, which should bestow most on the Colonel. The former had given him person, parts, and constitution, in all which he was superior to almost every other man. The latter had given him rank in life, and riches, both in a very eminent degree. Whom then should this happy man envy? Here, lest ambition should mislead the reader to search the palaces of the great, we will direct him at once to Gray's-Inn-Lane; where, in a miserable bed, in a miserable room, he will see a miserable broken lieutenant, in a miserable condition, with several heavy debts

on his back, and without a penny in his pocket. This, and no other, was the object of the Colonel's envy. And why? because this wretch was possessed of the affections of a poor little lamb; which all the vast flocks that were within the power and reach of the Colonel, could not prevent that glutton's longing for. And sure this image of the lamb is not improperly adduced on this occasion for what was the Colonel's desire but to lead this poor lamb, as it were, to the slaughter, in order to purchase a feast of a few days by her final destruction, and to tear her away from the arms of one, where she was sure of being fondled and caressed all the days of her life.

While the Colonel was agitated with these thoughts, his greatest comfort was, that Amelia and Booth were now separated, and his greatest terror was of their coming again together. From wishes, therefore, he began to meditate designs; and so far was he from any intention of procuring the liberty of his friend, that he began to form schemes of prolonging his confinement, till he could procure some means of sending him away far from her; in which case he doubted not but of succeeding in all he desired.

He was forming this plan in his mind, when a servant informed him, that one Serjeant Atkinson desired to speak with his honour. The serjeant was immediately admitted, and acquainted the Colonel, that if he pleased to go and become bail for Mr Booth, another unexceptionable housekeeper would be there to join with him. This person the serjeant had procured that morning, and had, by leave of his wife, given him a bond of indemnification for the purpose.

The Colonel did not seem so elated with this news as Atkinson expected. On the contrary, instead of making a direct answer to what Atkinson said, the Colonel began thus: "I think, serjeant, Mr Booth hath told me that you was foster-brother to his lady. She is really a charming woman, and it is a thousand pities she should ever have been placed in the dreadful situation she is now in. There is nothing so silly as for subaltern officers of the army to marry, unless where they meet with women of very great for tunes indeed. What can be the event of their

marrying otherwise, but entailing misery and beggary on their wives and their posterity?"

"Ah! sir," cries the serjeant," it is too late to think of these matters now. To be sure, my lady might have married one of the top gentlemen in the country: for she is certainly one of the best, as well as one of the handsomest women in the kingdom; and if she had been fairly dealt by, would have had a very great fortune into the bargain. Indeed she is worthy of the greatest prince in the world; and if I had been the greatest prince in the world, I should have thought myself happy with such a wife; but she was pleased to like the Lieutenant, and

certainly there can be no happiness in marriage without liking."

"Lookee, serjeant," said the Colonel, “you know very well that I am the Lieutenant's friend. I think I have shewn myself so."

"Indeed, your honour hath," quoth the serjeant, "more than once, to my knowledge." "But I am angry with him for his impru dence, greatly angry with him for his impru dence; and the more so, as it affects a lady of so much worth."

"She is, indeed, a lady of the highest worth," cries the serjeant. "Poor dear lady! I knew her, an't please your honour, from her infancy; and the sweetest-tempered, best-natured lady she is, that ever trod on English ground. Í have always loved her as if she was my own sister. Nay, she hath very often called me brother; and I have taken it to be a greater honour than if I was to be called a general officer."

"What pity it is," said the Colonel, "that this worthy creature should be exposed to so much misery by the thoughtless behaviour of a man, who, though I am his friend, I cannot help saying, hath been guilty of imprudence, at least. Why could he not live upon his halfpay? what had he to do to run himself into debt in this outrageous manner?"

"I wish, indeed," cries the serjeant, “he had been a little more considerative; but I hope this will be a warning to him."

"How am I sure of that ?" answered the Colonel; "or what reason is there to expect it? extravagance is a vice of which men are not so easily cured. I have thought a great deal of this matter, Mr Serjeant; and upon the most mature deliberation, I am of opinion, that it will be better both for him and his poor lady, that he should smart a little more."

"Your honour, sir, to be sure, is in the right," replied the serjeant;" but yet, sir, if you will pardon me for speaking, I hope you will be pleased to consider my poor lady's case. She suffers, all this while, as much or more than the Lieutenant; for I know her so well, that I am certain she will never have a moment's ease till her husband is out of confinement."

"I know women better than you, serjeant," cries the Colonel : " they sometimes place their affections on a husband, as children do on their nurse; but they are both to be weaned. I know you, serjeant, to be a fellow of sense as well as spirit, or I should not speak so freely to you; but I took a fancy to you a long time ago, and I intend to serve you; but first, I ask you this question, is your attachment to Mr Booth, or to his lady?"

"Certainly, sir," said the serjeant, "I must love my lady best. Not but I have a great affection for the Lieutenant too, because I know my lady hath the same; and, indeed, he hath been always very good to me, as far as was in

his power. A lieutenant, your honour knows, can't do a great deal; but I have always found him my friend upon all occasions."

"You say true," cries the Colonel," a lieutenant can do but little; but I can do much to serve you, and will too. But let me ask you one question-who was the lady whom I saw last night with Mrs Booth at her lodgings?"

Here the serjeant blushed, and repeated, "The lady, sir!"

"Ay, a lady, a woman," cries the Colonel, "who supped with us last night. She looked rather too much like a gentlewoman for the mistress of a lodging-house."

The serjeant's cheeks glowed at this compliment to his wife, and he was just going to own her, when the Colonel proceeded; "I think I never saw in my life so ill-looking, sly, demure a b―: I would give something, methinks, to know who she was."

"I don't know, indeed," cries the serjeant, in great confusion. "I know nothing about her." "I wish you would enquire," said the Colonel," and let me know her name, and likewise what she is. I have a strange curiosity to know, and let me see you again this evening exactly at seven."

"And will not your honour then go to the Lieutenant this morning?" said Atkinson.

"It is not in my power," answered the Colonel: "I am engaged another way. Besides, there is no haste in this affair. If men will be imprudent, they must suffer the consequences. Come to me at seven, and bring me all the particulars you can concerning that ill-looked jade I mentioned to you; for I am resolved to know who she is. And so, good-morrow to you, serjeant; be assured I will take an opportunity to do something for you."

Though some readers may, perhaps, think the serjeant not unworthy of the freedom with which the Colonel treated him, yet that haughty officer would have been very backward to have condescended to such familiarity with one of his rank, had he not proposed some design from it. In truth, he began to conceive hopes of making the serjeant instrumental to his design on Amelia; in other words, to convert him into a pimp; an office in which the Colonel had been served by Atkinson's betters; and which, as he knew it was in his power very well to reward him, he had no apprehension that the serjeant would decline: an opinion which the serjeant might have pardoned, though he had never given the least grounds for it, since the Colonel borrowed it from the knowledge of his own heart. This dictated to him, that he, from a bad motive, was capable of desiring to debauch his friend's wife; and the same heart inspired him to hope that another, from another bad motive, might be guilty of the same breach of friendship, in assisting him. Few men, I believe, think better of others than of themselves; nor do they easily

allow the existence of any virtue of which they perceive no traces in their own minds: for which reason, I have observed, that it is extremely difficult to persuade a rogue that you are an honest man; nor would you ever succeed in the attempt by the strongest evidence, was it not for the comfortable conclusion which the rogue draws, that he who proves himself to be honest, proves himself to be a fool at the same time.

CHAP. IX.

A curious chapter, from which a curious reader may draw sundry observations.

THE serjeant retired from the Colonel in a very dejected state of mind; in which, however, we must leave him a while, and return to Amelia; who, as soon as she was up, had dispatched Mrs Atkinson to pay off her former lodgings, and to bring off all her clothes and other moveables.

The trusty messenger returned without performing her errand; for Mrs Ellison had locked up all her rooms, and was gone out very early that morning, and the servant knew not whither she was gone.

The two ladies now sat down to breakfast, together with Amelia's two children; after which, Amelia declared she would take a coach and visit her husband. To this motion Mrs Atkinson soon agreed, and offered to be her companion. To say truth, I think it was reasonable enough; and the great abhorrence which Booth had of seeing his wife in a bailiff's house, was, perhaps, rather too nice and delicate.

When the ladies were both dressed, and just going to send for their vehicle, a great knocking was heard at the door, and presently Mrs James was ushered into the room.

This visit was disagreeable enough to Amelia, as it detained her from the sight of her husband, for which she so eagerly longed. However, as she had no doubt but that the visit would be reasonably short, she resolved to receive the lady with all the complaisance in her power.

Mrs James now behaved herself so very unlike the person that she lately appeared, that it might have surprised any one that doth not know, that besides that of a fine lady, which is all mere art and mummery, every such woman hath some real character at the bottom, in which, whenever nature gets the better of her, she acts. Thus the finest ladies in the world will sometimes love, and sometimes scratch, according to their different natural dispositions, with great fury and violence, though both of these are equally inconsistent with a fine lady's artificial character.

Mrs James, then, was at the bottom a very good-natured woman; and the moment she heard of Amelia's misfortune, was sincerely grieved at