readers of romances, who, though they know the whole to be one entire fiction, nevertheless agree to be deceived; and as these find amusement, so do the others find case and convenience in this concurrence. But this being a sub-digression, I return to my digression.

A great man ought to do his business by others; to employ hands, as we have before said, to his purposes, and keep himself as much behind the curtain as possible; and though it must be acknowledged that two very great men, whose names will be both recorded in history, did, in these latter times, come forth themselves on the stage, and did hack and hew, and lay each other most cruelly open to the diversion of the spectators, yet this must be mentioned rather as an example of avoidance than imitation, and is to be ascribed to the number of those instances which serve to evince the truth of these maxims,-Nemo mortalium omnibus horis sapit. Ira furor brevis est, &c.

CHAP. XII.

New instances of Friendly's folly, &c.

:

To return to my history, which, having rested itself a little, is now ready to proceed on its journey Fireblood was the person chosen by Wild for this service. He had, on a late occasion, experienced the talents of this youth for a good round perjury. He immediately, therefore, found him out, and proposed it to him; when, receiving his instant assent, they consulted together, and soon framed an evidence, which being communicated to one of the most bitter and severe creditors of Heart free, by him laid before a magistrate, and attested by the oath of Fireblood, the justice granted his warrant, and Heartfree was accordingly apprehended and brought before him.

When the officers came for this poor wretch, they found him meanly diverting himself with his little children, the younger of whom sat on his knees, and the elder was playing at a little distance from him with Friendly. One of the officers, who was a very good sort of a man, but one very laudably severe in his office, after acquainting Heartfree with his errand, bade him come along and be d-d, and leave those little bastards, for so, he said, he supposed they were, for a legacy to the parish. Heartfree was much surprised at hearing there was a warrant for felony against him; but he shewed less concern than Friendly did in his countenance. The elder daughter, when she saw the officer lay hold on her father, immediately quitted her play, and running to him, and bursting into tears, cried out, "You shall not hurt poor papa." One of the other ruffians offered to take the little one rudely from his knees; but Heartfree started up, and, catching the fellow by the collar, dashed his head

so violently against the wall, that, had he had any brains, he might possibly have lost them by the blow.

The officer, like most of those heroic spirits who insult men in adversity, had some prudence mixed with his zeal for justice. Seeing, therefore, this rough treatment of his companion, he began to pursue more gentle methods, and very civilly desired Mr Heartfree to go with him, seeing he was an officer, and obliged to execute his warrant; that he was sorry for his misfortune, and hoped he would be acquitted. The other answered, he should patiently submit to the laws of his country, and would attend him whither he was ordered to conduct him: then taking leave of his children with a tender kiss, he recommended them to the care of Friendly, who promised to see them safe home, and then to attend him at the justice's, whose name and abode he had learned of the constable.

Friendly arrived at the magistrates's house just as that gentleman had signed the mittimus against his friend; for the evidence of Fireblood was so clear and strong, and the justice was so incensed against Heartfree, and so convinced of his guilt, that he would hardly hear him speak in his own defence, which the reader, perhaps, when he hears the evidence against him, will be less inclined to censure: for this witness deposed, "That he had been, by Heartfree himself, employed to carry the orders of embezzling to Wild, in order to be delivered to his wife; that he had been afterwards present with Wild and her at the inn, when they took coach for Harwich, where she shewed him the casket of jewels, and desired him to tell her husband, that she had fully executed his commands:" and this he swore to have been done after Heartfree had notice of the commission; and, in order to bring it within that time, Fireblood, as well as Wild, swore, "that Mrs Heartfree lay several days concealed at Wild's house, before her departure for Holland."

When Friendly found the justice obdurate, and that all he could say had no effect, nor was it any way possible for Heartfree to escape being committed to Newgate, he resolved to aecompany him thither; where, when they arrived, the turnkey would have confined Heartfree (he having no money,) amongst the common felons; but Friendly would not permit it, and advanced every shilling he had in his pocket, to procure a room in the Press-Yard for his friend, which, indeed, through the humanity of the keeper, he did at a cheap rate.

They spent that day together, and, in the evening, the prisoner dismissed his friend, desiring him, after many thanks for his fidelity, to be comforted on his account. "I know not," says he, "how far the malice of my enemy may prevail; but whatever my sufferings are, I am convinced my innocence will somewhere be rewarded. If, therefore, any fatal accident should hap pen to me, (for he who is in the hands of per

jury may apprehend the worst,) my dear Friendly, be a father to my poor children;" at which words the tears gushed from his eyes. The other begged him not to admit any such apprehensions; for that he would employ his utmost diligence in his service, and doubted not but to subvert any villainous design laid for his destruction, and to make his innocence appear to the world as white as it was in his opinion.

We cannot help mentioning a circumstance here, though we doubt it will appear very unnatural and incredible to our reader; which is, that, notwithstanding the former character and behaviour of Heartfree, this story of his embezzling was so far from surprising his neighbours, that many of them declared they expected no better from him. Some were assured he could pay forty shillings in the pound, if he would. Others had overheard hints formerly pass between him and Mrs Heartfree, which had given them suspicions. And, what is most astonishing of all, is, that many of those who had before censured him for an extravagant heedless fool, now no less confidently abused him for a cunning, tricking, avaricious knave.

CHAP. XIII.

Something concerning Fireblood, which will surprise, and somewhat touching one of the Miss Snaps, which will greatly concern the Reader.

HOWEVER, notwithstanding all these censures abroad, and in despite of all his misfortunes at home, Heartfree in Newgate enjoyed a quiet, undisturbed repose; while our hero, nobly disdaining rest, lay sleepless all night; partly from the apprehensions of Mrs Heartfree's return before he had executed his scheme, and partly from a suspicion lest Fireblood should betray him; of whose infidelity he had, nevertheless, no other cause to maintain any fear, than from his knowing him to be an accomplished rascal, as the vulgar term it, a complete GREAT MAN in our language. And indeed, to confess the truth, these doubts were not without some foundation; for the very same thought unluckily entered the head of that noble youth, who considered, whether he might not possibly sell himself for some advantage to the other side, as he had yet no promise from Wild. But this was, by the sagacity of the latter, prevented in the morning with a profusion of promises, which shewed him to be of the most generous temper in the world, with which Fireblood was extremely well satisfied; and made use of so many protestations of his faithfulness, that he convinced Wild of the justice of his suspicions.

At this time an accident happened, which, though it did not immediately affect our hero, we cannot avoid relating, as it occasioned great

VOL. I.

confusion in his family, as well as in the family of Snap. It is indeed a calamity highly to be lamented, when it stains untainted blood, and happens to an honourable house; an injury never to be repaired ; a blot never to be wiped out; a sore never to be healed. To detain my reader no longer, Miss Theodosia Snap was now safely delivered of a male infant, the product of an amour which that beautiful (O that I could say, virtuous) creature had with the Count.

ner.

Mr Wild and his lady were at breakfast when Mr Snap, with all the agonies of despair both in his voice and countenance, brought them this melancholy news. Our hero, who had (as we have said) wonderful good-nature when his greatness or interest was not concerned, instead of reviling his sister-in-law, asked with a smile, "Who was the father?" But the chaste Lætitia,-we repeat the chaste, for well did she now deserve that epithet,-received it in another manShe fell into the utmost fury at the relation, reviled her sister in the bitterest terms, and vowed she would never see nor speak to her more. Then burst into tears, and lamented over her father, that such dishonour should ever happen to him and herself. At length she fell severely on her husband, for the light treatment which he gave this fatal accident. She told him, he was unworthy of the honour he enjoyed, of marrying into a chaste family. That she looked on it as an affront to her virtue. That if he had married one of the naughty hussies of the town, he could have behaved to her in no other manner. She concluded, with desiring her father to make an example of the slut, and to turn her out of doors; for that she would not otherwise enter his house, being resolved never to set her foot within the same threshold with the trollop, whom she detested so much the more, because (which was perhaps true) she was her own sister.

So violent, and indeed so outrageous was this chaste lady's love of virtue, that she could not forgive a single slip (indeed the only one Theodosia had ever made,) in her own sister, in a sister who loved her, and to whom she owed a thousand obligations.

Perhaps the severity of Mr Snap, who greatly felt the injury done to the honour of his family, would have relented, had not the parish-officers been extremely pressing on this occasion, and, for want of security, conveyed the unhappy young lady to a place, the name of which, for the honour of the Snaps, to whom our hero was so nearly allied, we bury in eternal oblivion : where she suffered so much correction for her crime, that the good-natured reader of the malekind may be inclined to compassionate her, at least to imagine she was sufficiently punished for a fault, which, with submission to the chaste Lætitia, and all other strictly virtuous ladies, it should be either less criminal in a woman to commit, or more so in a man to solicit her to it. 3 c

But to return to our hero, who was a living and strong instance, that human greatness and happiness are not always inseparable. He was under a continual alarm of frights, and fears, and jealousies. He thought every man he beheld wore a knife for his throat, and a pair of scissars for his purse. As for his own gang particularly, he was thoroughly convinced there was not a single man amongst them who would not, for the value of five shillings, bring him to the gallows. These apprehensions so constantly broke his rest, and kept him so assiduously on his guard, to frustrate and circumvent any designs which might be forming against him, that his condition, to any other than the glorious eye of ambition, might seem rather deplorable, than the object of envy or desire.

CHAP. XIV.

In which our Hero makes a speech well worthy to be celebrated; and the behaviour of one of the Gang, perhaps more unnatural than any other part of this History.

THERE was in the gang a man named Blueskin; one of those merchants who trade in dead oxen, sheep, &c. in short, what the vulgar call a butcher. This gentleman had two qualities of a great man, viz. undaunted courage, and an absolute contempt of those ridiculous distinctions of meum and tuum, which would cause endless disputes, did not the law happily decide them by converting both into suum. The common form of exchanging property by trade seemed to him too tedious; he therefore resolved to quit the mercantile profession, and, falling acquainted with some of Mr Wild's people, he provided himself with arms, and enlisted of the gang; in which he behaved for some time with great decency and order, and submitted to accept such share of the booty with the rest, as our hero allotted him.

But this subserviency agreed ill with his temper; for we should have before remembered a third heroic quality, namely, ambition, which was no inconsiderable part of his composition. One day, therefore, having robbed a gentleman at Windsor of a gold watch, which, on its being advertised in the newspapers, with a considerable reward, was demanded of him by Wild, he peremptorily refused to deliver it.

"How, Mr Blueskin!" says Wild, "you will not deliver the watch ?"-" No, Mr Wild," answered he; "I have taken it, and will keep it; or, if I dispose of it, I will dispose of it my self, and keep the money for which I sell it.""Sure," replied Wild, "you have not the assurance to pretend you have any property or right in this watch?"-"I am certain," returned Blueskin, "whether I have any right in it or

66

no, you can prove none."—" I will undertake,” cries the other, "to shew I have an absolute right to it, and that by the laws of our gang, of which I am providentially at the head."-" I know not who put you at the head of it,” cries Blueskin; "but those who did, certainly did it for their own good, that you might conduct them the better in their robberies, inform them of the richest booties, prevent surprises, pack juries, bribe evidence, and so contribute to their benefit and safety, and not to convert all their labour and hazard to your own benefit and advantage.”— You are greatly mistaken, sir," answered Wild; you are talking of a legal society, where the chief magistrate is always chosen for the public good, which, as we see in all the legal societies of the world, he constantly consults, daily contributing, by his superior skill, to their prospe rity, and not sacrificing their good to his own wealth, or pleasure, or humour; but in an illegal society or gang, as this of ours, it is otherwise; for who would be at the head of a gang, unless for his own interest? and without a head, you know, you cannot subsist. Nothing but a head, and obedience to that head, can preserve a gang a moment from destruction. It is absolutely better for you to content yourselves with a moderate reward, and enjoy that in safety at the disposal of your chief, than to engross the whole, with the hazard to which you will be liable without his protection. And surely, there is none in the whole gang who hath less reason to complain than you: you have tasted of my favours; witness that piece of ribbon you wear in your hat, with which I dubbed you captain.

Therefore, pray, Captain, deliver the watch.” -"D-n your cajoling," says Blueskin: "do you think I value myself on this bit of ribbon, which I could have bought myself for sixpence, and have worn without your leave? Do you imagine I think myself a captain, because you, whom I know not empowered to make one, call me so? The name of captain is but a shadow; the men and the salary are the substance; and I am not to be bubbled with a shadow. I will be called captain no longer; and he who flatters me by that name, I shall think affronts me, and I will knock him down, I assure you."—" Did ever man talk so unreasonably?" cries Wild. "Are you not respected as a captain by the whole gang since my dubbing you so? but it is the shadow only, it seems; and you will knock a man down for affronting you, who calls you captain! Might not a man as reasonably tell a minister of state, Sir, you have given me the shadow only. The ribbon or the bauble, that you gave me, implies that I have either signalized myself, by some great action, for the benefit or glory of my country, or at least that I am descended from those who have done so. I know myself to be a scoundrel, and so have been those few ancestors I can remember, or have ever heard of. Therefore, I ain resolved to

knock the first man down who calls me Sir, or Right Honourable.' But all great and wise men think themselves sufficiently repaid by what procures them honour and precedence in the gang, without inquiring into substance; nay, if a title, or a feather, be equal to this purpose, they are substance, and not mere shadows. But I have not time to argue with you at present, so give me the watch without any more deliberation." -"I am no more a friend to deliberation than yourself," answered Blueskin, "and so I tell you, once for all, by G-I never will give you the watch; no, nor will I ever hereafter surrender any part of my booty. I won it, and I will wear it. Take your pistols yourself, and go out on the highway, and don't lazily think to fatten yourself with the dangers and pains of other people." At which words he departed in a fierce mood, and repaired to the tavern used by the gang, where he had appointed to meet some of his acquaintance, whom he informed of what had passed between him and Wild, and advised them all to follow his example; which they all readily agreed to, and Mr Wild's d-tion was the universal toast; in drinking bumpers to which, they had finished a large bowl of punch, when a constable, with a numerous attendance, and Wild at their head, entered the room, and seized on Blueskin, whom his companions, when they saw our hero, did not dare attempt to rescue. The watch was found upon him, which, together with Wild's information, was more than sufficient to commit him to Newgate.

In the evening, Wild, and the rest of those who had been drinking with Blueskin, met at the tavern, where nothing was to be seen but the profoundest submission to their leader. They vilified and abused Blueskin as much as they had before abused our hero, and now repeated the same toast, only changing the name of Wild into that of Blueskin. All agreeing with Wild, that the watch found in his pocket, and which must be a fatal evidence against him, was a just judgment on his disobedience and revolt.

Thus did this Great Man, by a resolute and timely example, (for he went directly to the justice when Blueskin left him) quell one of the most dangerous conspiracies which could possibly arise in a gang; and which, had it been permitted one day's growth, would have ended in

his destruction: so much doth it behove all great men to be eternally on their guard, and expeditious in the execution of their purposes; while none but the weak and honest can indulge themselves in remissness or repose.

The Achates, Fireblood, had been present at both these meetings: but though he had a little too hastily concurred in cursing his friend, and in vowing his perdition; yet, now he saw all that scheme dissolved, he returned to his integrity; of which he gave an incontestable proof, by informing Wild of the measures which had been concerted against him ; in which, he said, he had pretended to acquiesce, in order the better to betray them; but this, as he afterwards confessed on his deathbed, at Tyburn, was only a copy of his countenance; for that he was, at that time, as sincere and hearty in his opposition to Wild as any of his companions.

Our hero received Fireblood's information with a very placid countenance. He said, as the gang had seen their errors, and repented, nothing was more noble than forgiveness. But though he was pleased modestly to ascribe this to his lenity, it really arose from much more noble and political principles. He considered that it would be dangerous to attempt the punishment of so many; besides, he flattered himself that fear would keep them in order; and, indeed, Fireblood had told him nothing more than he knew before, viz. that they were all complete prigs, whom he was to govern by their fears, and in whom he was to place no more confidence than was necessary, and to watch them with the utmost caution and circumspection; for a rogue, he wisely said, like gunpowder, must be used with caution; since both are altogether as liable to blow up the party himself who uses them, as to execute his mischievous purpose against some other person or animal.

We will now repair to Newgate, it being the place where most of the great men of this history are hastening as fast as possible: and, to confess the truth, it is a castle very far from being an improper or misbecoming habitation for any great man whatever. And as this scene will continue during the residue of our history, we shall open it with a new Book; and shall, therefore, take this opportunity of closing our Third,

CHAP. I.

A sentiment of the Ordinary's, worthy to be written in letters of gold; a very extraordinary instance of folly in Friendly; and a dreadful accident which befel our Hero.

HEARTFREE had not been long in Newgate before his frequent conversation with his children, and other instances of a good heart, which betrayed themselves in his actions and conversation, created an opinion in all about him that he was one of the silliest fellows in the universe. The Ordinary himself, a very sagacious as well as very worthy person, declared that he was a cursed rogue, but no conjuror.

What, indeed, might induce the former, i. e. the roguish part of this opinion in the Ordinary, was a wicked sentiment which Heartfree one day disclosed in conversation, and which we, who are truly orthodox, will not pretend to justify, "that he believed a sincere Turk would be saved." To this the good man, with becoming zeal and indignation, answered, "I know not what may become of a sincere Turk; but if this be your persuasion, I pronounce it impossible you should be saved. No, sir, so far from a sincere Turk's being within the pale of salvation, neither will any sincere Presbyterian, Anabaptist, nor Quaker whatever be saved."

But neither did the one or the other part of this character prevail on Friendly to abandon his old master. He spent his whole time with him, except only those hours when he was absent for his sake, in procuring evidence for him against his trial, which was now shortly to come on. Indeed this young man was the only comfort, besides a clear conscience, and the hopes beyond the grave, which this poor wretch had; for the sight of his children was like one of those alluring pleasures which men in some diseases indulge themselves often fatally in, which at once flatter and heighten their malady.

Friendly being one day present while Heartfree was, with tears in his eyes, embracing his eldest daughter, and lamenting the hard fate to which he feared he should be obliged to leave her, spoke to him thus: "I have long observed, with admiration, the magnanimity with which you go through your own misfortunes, and the steady countenance with which you look on death. I have observed, that all your agonies arise from the thoughts of parting with your

children; and of leaving them in a distressed condition. Now, though I hope all your fears will prove ill-grounded, yet, that I may relieve you as much as possible from them, be assured, that as nothing can give me more real misery, than to observe so tender and loving a concern in a master, to whose goodness I owe so many obligations, and whom I so sincerely love, so nothing can afford me equal pleasure with my contributing to lessen or to remove it. Be convinced, therefore, if you can place any confidence in my promise, that I will employ my little fortune, which you know to be not entirely inconsiderable, in the support of this your little family. Should any misfortune, which I pray Heaven avert, happen to you before you have better provided for these little ones, I will be myself their father; nor shall either of them ever know distress, if it be any way in my power to prevent it. Your younger daughter I will provide for; and as for my little prattler, your elder, as I never yet thought of any woman for a wife, I will receive her as such at your hands; nor will I ever relinquish her for another." Heartfree flew to his friend, and embraced him with raptures of acknowledgment. He vowed to him that he had eased every anxious thought of his mind but one, and that he must carry with him out of this world. "O Friendly! (cried he,) it is my concern for that best of women, whom I hate myself for having ever censured in my opinion. O Friendly, thou didst know her goodness! yet, sure, her' perfect character none but myself was ever acquainted with. She had every perfection both of mind and body, which Heaven hath indulged to her whole sex, and possessed all in a higher excellence than nature ever indulged to another in any single virtue. Can I bear the loss of such a woman? Can I bear the apprehensions of what mischiefs that villain may have done to her, of which death is perhaps the lightest?" Friendly gently interrupted him, as. soon as he saw any opportunity, endeavouring to comfort him on this head likewise, by magnifying every circumstance which could possibly afford any hope of his seeing her again.

By this kind of behaviour, in which the young man exemplified so uncommon an height of friendship, he had soon obtained in the castle the character of as odd and silly a fellow as his master. Indeed, they were both the bye-word, laughing-stock, and contempt of the whole place.

The sessions now came on at the Old Bailey. The grand jury at Hick's-hall had found the bill of indictinent against Heartfree, and on the se