this matter by Betty, who, after receiving | dam,' said Sophia, 'I did receive a setter, many commendations, and some rewards but it was without my desire; and indeed, for her fidelity, was ordered, that if the wo- I may say, against my consent.'—'Indeed, man who brought the letter came again, indeed, miss,' cries the aunt, you ought she should introduce her to Mrs. Western to be ashamed of owning you had received herself. it at all; but where is the letter; for I will see it.' Unluckily, Mrs. Miller returned at the very time when Sophia was engaged with his lordship. Betty, according to order, sent her directly to the aunt; who, being mistress of so many circumstances relating to what had passed the day before, easily imposed upon the poor woman to believe that Sophia had communicated the whole affair; and so pumped every thing out of her which she knew, relating to the letter, and relating to Jones. To this peremptory demand, Sophia paused some time before she returned an answer; and at last only excused herself by declaring she had not the letter in her pocket, which was indeed true; upon which her aunt, losing all manner of patience, asked her niece this short question, whether she would resolve to marry Lord Fellamar or no? to which she received the strongest negative. Mrs. Western then replied, with an oath, or something very like one, that she would early the next morning deliver her back into her father's hand. This poor creature might, indeed, be called simplicity itself. She was one of that order of mortals, who are apt to believe every thing which is said to them; to whom Sophia then began to reason with her nature hath neither indulged the offensive aunt in the following manner: Why, manor defensive weapons of deceit, and who dam, must I of necessity be forced to marry are consequently liable to be imposed upon at all? Consider how cruel you would by any one, who will only be at the ex- have thought it in your own case, and how pense of a little falsehood for that purpose. much kinder your parents were in leaving Mrs. Western having drained Mrs. Miller you to your liberty. What have I done to of all she knew, which, indeed, was but forfeit this liberty? I will never marry conlittle, but which was sufficient to make the trary to my father's consent, nor without aunt suspect a great deal, dismissed her asking yours. And when I ask the consent with assurances that Sophia would not see of either improperly, it will be then time her, that she would send no answer to the enough to force some other marriage upon letter, nor ever receive another; nor did me.'-'Can I bear to hear this,' cries she suffer her to depart without a handsome Mrs. Western, 'from a girl who hath now lecture on the merits of an office, to which a letter from a murderer in her pocket?" she could afford no better name than that I have no such letter, I promise you,' of procuress. This discovery had greatly discomposed her temper, when coming into the apartment next to that in which the lovers were, she overheard Sophia very warmly protesting against his lordship's addresses: at which the rage already kindled burst forth, and she rushed in upon her niece in a most furious manner, as we have already described, together with what passed at that time till his lordship's departure. answered Sophia; and if he be a murderer, he will soon be in no condition to give you any farther disturbance.'- How, Miss Western,' said the aunt, have you the assurance to speak of him in this manner; to own your affection for such a villain to my face!'-'Sure, madam,' said Sophia, 'you put a very strange construction on my words.'-'Indeed, Miss Western,' cries the lady, 'I shall not bear this usage; you have learned of your father this No sooner was Lord Fellamar gone, than manner of treating me: he hath taught you Mrs. Western returned to Sophia, whom to give me the lie. He hath totally ruined she upbraided in the most bitter terms, for you by his false system of education; and, the ill use she had made of the confidence please Heaven, he shall have the comfort of reposed in her; and for her treachery in its fruits; for once more I declare to you, conversing with a man with whom she that to-morrow morning I will carry you had offered the day before to bind herself back. I will withdraw all my forces from in the most solemn oath, never more to have the field, and remain henceforth, like the any conversation. Sophia protested she wise king of Prussia, in a state of perfect had maintained no such conversation.-neutrality. You are both too wise to be How, how! Miss Western,' said the regulated by my measures; so prepare aunt; will you deny your receiving a let-yourself, for to-morrow morning you shall ter from him yesterday?'-'A letter, ma- evacuate this house.' dam!' answered Sophia, somewhat sur- Sophia remonstrated all she could; but prised. It is not very well bred, miss,' her aunt was deaf to all she said. In this replies the aunt, to repeat my words. I resolution therefore we must at present say a letter, and I insist upon your showing leave her, as there seems to be no hopes of it me immediately.I scorn a lie, ma- bringing her to change it. He had heard, upon inquiry, that the only persons who had seen the beginning of the unfortunate rencounter, were a crew belonging to a man-of-war, which then lay at Deptford. To Deptford, therefore, he went in search of this crew, where he was informed that the men he sought after, were all gone ashore. He then traced them from place to place, till at last he found two of them drinking together, with a third person, at a hedge-tavern near Aldersgate. Nightingale desired to speak with Jones by himself, (for Partridge was in the room when he came in.) As soon as they were alone, Nightingale, taking Jones by the hand, cried, Come, my brave friend, be not too much dejected at what I am going to tell you-I am sorry I am the messenger of bad news; but I think it my duty to tell you.'-'I guess already what that bad news is,' cries Jones. "The poor gentleman then is dead.'-'I hope not,' answered Nightingale. He was alive this morning; though I will not flatter you; I fear, from the accounts I could get, that his wound is mortal. But if the affair be exactly as you told it, your own remorse would be all you have reason to apprehend, let what would happen ; but forgive me, my dear Tom, if I entreat you to make the worst of your story to your friends. If you disguise any thing to us, you will only be an enemy to yourself.' 'What reason, my dear Jack, have I ever given you,' said Jones, to stab me with so cruel a suspicion?'-'Have patience,' cries Nightingale, and I will tell you all. After the most diligent inquiry I could make, I at last met with two of the fellows that were present at this unhappy accident, and I am sorry to say, they do not relate the story so much in your favour as you yourself have told it. Why, what do they say?' cries Jones. Indeed, what I am sorry to repeat, as I am afraid of the consequence of it to you. They say, that they were at too great a distance to overhear any words that passed between you; but they both agree that the first blow was given by you.'-Then, upon my soul,' answered Jones, they injure me. He not only struck me first, but struck me without the least provocation. What should induce those villains to accuse me falsely? Nay, that I cannot guess,' said Nightingale; and if you yourself, and I, who am so heartily your friend, cannot conceive a reason why they should belie you, what reason will an indifferent court of justice be able to assign, why they should not believe them? I repeated the question to them several times, and so did another gentlemen who was present, who, I believe, is a seafaring man, and who really acted a very friendly part by you; for he begged them often to consider, that there was the life of a man in the case; and asked them over and over, if they were certain; to which they both answered, that they were, and would abide by their evidence upon oath. For Heaven's sake, my dear friend, recollect yourself; for if this should appear to be the fact, it will be your business to think in time of making the best of your interest. I would not shock you; but you know, I believe, the severity of the law, whatever verbal provocations may have been given you.'- Alas! my friend,' cries Jones, what interest hath such a wretch as I? Besides, do you think I would even wish to live with the reputation of a murderer? If I had any friends, (as alas! I have none,) could I have the confidence to solicit them to speak in the behalf of a man condemned for the blackest crime in human nature? Believe me, I have no such hope; but I have some reliance on a throne still greatly superior; which will, I am certain, afford me all the protection I merit.' 6 He then concluded with many solemn and vehement protestations of the truth of what he had at first asserted. The faith of Nightingale was now again staggered, and began to incline to credit his friend, when Mrs. Miller appeared and made a sorrowful report of the success of her embassy: which when Jones had heard, he cried out most heroically, 'Well, my friend, I am now indifferent as to what shall happen, at least with regard to my life: and if it be the will of Heaven that I shall make an atonement with that for the blood I have spilt, I hope the Divine Goodness will one day suffer my honour to be cleared, and that the words of a dying man, at least, will be believed, so far as to justify his character.' A very mournful scene now passed between the prisoner and his friends: at which, as few readers would have been pleased to be present, so few, I believe, will desire to hear it particularly related. We will, therefore, pass on to the entrance of the turnkey, who acquainted Jones that there was a lady without who desired to speak with him, when he was at leisure. Jones declared his surprise at this message. He said, 'He knew no lady in the world whom he could possibly expect to see there.' However, as he saw no reason to decline seeing any person, Mrs. Miller and Mr. Nightingale presently took their leave, and he gave orders to have the lady admitted. mortal kind, was yet so deep, that it had left a considerable scar behind it. But no sooner was she acquainted that Mr. Jones himself was the man who had been com If Jones was surprised at the news of a visit from a lady, how greatly was he as-mitted to the Gatehouse for this supposed tonished when he discovered this lady to murder, than she took the first opportunity be no other than Mrs. Waters! In this as- of committing Mr. Fitzpatrick to the care tonishment, then, we shall leave him a of his nurse, and hastened away to visit while, in order to cure the surprise of the the conqueror. reader, who will likewise, probably, not a little wonder at the arrival of this lady. She now entered the room with an air of gayety, which received an immediate check from the melancholy aspect of poor Jones, who started and blessed himself when he saw her. Upon which she said, Who this Mrs. Waters was, the reader pretty well knows; what she was, he must be perfectly satisfied. He will therefore be pleased to remember, that this lady de-Nay, I do not wonder at your surprise: Í parted from Upton in the same coach with Mr. Fitzpatrick and the other Irish gentleman, and in their company travelled to Bath. Now there was a certain office in the gift of Mr. Fitzpatrick at that time vacant, namely, that of a wife; for the lady who had lately filled that office had resigned, or at least deserted her duty. Mr. Fitzpatrick, therefore, having thoroughly examined Mrs. Waters on the road, found her extremely fit for the place, which, on their arrival at Bath, he presently conferred upon her, and she, without any scruple, accepted. As husband and wife this gentleman and lady continued together all the time they stayed at Bath, and as husband and wife they arrived together in town. Whether Mr. Fitzpatrick was so wise a man as not to part with one good thing till he had secured another, which he had at present only a prospect of regaining, or whether Mrs. Waters had so well discharged her office, that he intended still to retain her as principal, and to make his wife, (as is often the case,) only her deputy, I will not say; but certain it is, he never mentioned his wife to her, never communicated to her the letter given him by Mrs. Western, nor ever once hinted his purpose of repossessing his wife; much less did he ever mention the name of Jones. For though he intended to fight with him, wherever he met him, he did not imitate those prudent persons who think a wife, a mother, a sister, or sometimes a whole family, the safest seconds on these occasions. The first account, therefore, which she had of all this, was delivered to her from his lips, after he was brought home from the tavern where his wound had been dressed. As Mr. Fitzpatrick, however, had not the clearest way of telling a story at any time, and was now, perhaps, a little more confused than usual, it was some time before she discovered that the gentleman who had given him this wound was the very same person from whom her heart had received a wound, which, though not of a believe you did not expect to see me; for few gentlemen are troubled here with visits from any lady, unless a wife. You see the power you have over me, Mr. Jones. Indeed, I little thought, when we parted at Upton, that our next meeting would have been in such a place.'-'Indeed, madam,' says Jones, 'I must look upon this visit as kind; few will follow the miserable, especially to such dismal habitations.'-'I protest, Mr. Jones,' says she, 'I can hardly persuade myself you are the same agreeable fellow I saw at Upton. Why, your face is more miserable than any dungeon in the universe! What can be the matter with you?'-'I thought, madam,' said Jones, as you knew of my being here, you knew the unhappy reason.'-Pugh,' says she, 'you have pinked a man in a duel, that's all.' Jones expressed some indignation at this levity, and spoke with the utmost contrition for what had happened. To which she answered, 'Well then, sir, if you take it so much to heart, I will relieve you: the gentleman is not dead; and, I am pretty confident, is in no danger of dying. The surgeon, indeed, who first dressed him, was a young fellow, and seemed desirous of representing his case to be as bad as possible, that he might have the more honour from curing him; but the king's surgeon hath seen him since, and says, unless from a fever, of which there are at present no symptoms, he apprehends not the least danger of life.' Jones showed great satisfaction in his countenance at this report; upon which she affirmed the truth of it, adding, "By the most extraordinary accident in the world, I lodge at the same house, and have seen the gentleman; and I promise you he doth you justice, and says, whatever be the consequence, that he was entirely the aggressor, and that you was not in the least to blame.' Jones expressed the utmost satisfaction at the account which Mrs. Waters brought him. He then informed her of many things which she well knew before, as who Mr. Fitzpatrick was, the occasion of his resentment, &c. He likewise told her several facts of which she was ignorant, as I the adventure of the muff, and other particulars, concealing only the name of Sophia. He then lamented the follies and vices of which he had been guilty; every one of which, he said, had been attended with such ill consequences, that he should be unpardonable if he did not take warning, and quit those vicious courses for the future. He lastly concluded with assuring her of his resolution to sin no more, lest a worse thing should happen to him. Mrs. Waters, with great pleasantry, ridiculed all this, as the effects of low spirits and confinement. She repeated some witticisms about the devil when he was sick, and told him, 'She doubted not but shortly to see him at liberty, and as lively a fellow as ever; and then,' says she, I don't question but your conscience will be safely delivered of all those qualms that it is now so sick in breeding.' Many more things of this kind she uttered, some of which it would do her no great honour, in the opinion of some readers, to remember; nor are we quite certain but that the answers made by Jones would be treated with ridicule by others. We shall therefore suppress the rest of this conversation, and only observe, that it ended at last with perfect innocence, and much more to the satisfaction of Jones than of the lady; for the former was greatly transported with the news she brought him; but the latter was not altogether so pleased with the penitential behaviour of a man, whom she had, at her first interview, conceived a very different opinion of from what she now entertained of him. Thus the melancholy occasioned by the report of Mr. Nightingale was pretty well effaced; but the dejection into which Mrs. Miller had thrown him still continued. The account she gave so well tallied with the words of Sophia herself in her letter, that he made not the least doubt but that she had disclosed his letter to her aunt, and had taken a fixed resolution to abandon him. The torments this thought gave him, were to be equalled only by a piece of news which Fortune had yet in store for him, and which we shall communicate in the second chapter of the ensuing book. BOOK XVIII. CONTAINING ABOUT SIX DAYS. CHAPTER I. on the road, are now thrown off, and the conversation is usually plain and serious. In the same manner, if I have now and then, in the course of this work, indulged any pleasantry for thy entertainment, I shall here lay it down. The variety of matter, indeed, which I shall be obliged to cram into this book, will afford no room for any of those ludicrous observations which A farewell to the reader. We are now, reader, arrived at the last stage of our long journey. As we have, therefore, travelled together through so many pages, let us behave to one another like fellow-travellers in a stage-coach, who have passed several days in the company of each other; and who, notwithstanding I have elsewhere made, and which may, any bickerings or little animosities which may have occurred on the road, generally make all up at last, and mount, for the last time, into their vehicle with cheerfulness and good humour; since after this one stage, it may possibly happen to us, as it commonly happens to them, never to meet more. sometimes, perhaps, have prevented thee from taking a nap when it was beginning to steal upon thee. In this last book, thou wilt find nothing, (or at most very little,) of that nature; all will be plain narrative only; and, indeed, when thou hast perused the many great events which this book will produce, thou wilt think the number of pages contained in it scarce sufficient to tell the story. As I have here taken up this simile, give me leave to carry it a little farther. I intend, then, in this last book, to imitate the good company I have mentioned in their And now, my friend, I take this opporlast journey. Now, it is well known, that tunity, (as I shall have no other,) of heartily all jokes and raillery are at this time laid wishing thee well. If I have been an enaside whatever characters any of the pas-tertaining companion to thee, I promise sengers have, for the jest-sake, personated thee it is what I have desired. If in any thing I have offended, it was really without | stand here alive, you have been a-bed with any intention. Some things, perhaps, here your own mother.' said, may have hit thee or thy friends; but I do most solemnly declare they were not pointed at thee or them. I question not but thou hast been told, among other stories of me, that thou wast to travel with a very scurrilous fellow; but whoever told thee so, did me an injury. No man detests and despises scurrility more than myself; nor hath any man more reason; for none hath ever been treated with more; and what is a very severe fate, I have had some of the abusive writings of those very men, fathered upon me, who, in other of their works, have abused me themselves with the utmost virulence. Upon these words, Jones became in a moment a greater picture of horror than Partridge himself. He was, indeed, for some time, struck dumb with amazement, and both stood staring wildly at each other. At last his words found way, and, in an interrupted voice, he said, How! how! what's this you tell me?'-'Nay, sir,' cries Partridge, I have not breath enough left to tell you now; but what I have said is most certainly true.That woman who now went out is your own mother. How unlucky was it for you, sir, that I did not happen to see her at that time, to have prevented it? Sure the devil himself must have All these works, however, I am well con- contrived to bring about this wickedness,' vinced, will be dead long before this page 'Sure,' cries Jones, Fortune will never shall offer itself to thy perusal; for, how-have done with me, till she hath driven me ever short the period may be of my own to distraction. But why do I blame Forperformances, they will most probably out- tune? I am myself the cause of all my live their own infirm author, and the weekly misery. All the dreadful mischiefs, which productions of his abusive contemporaries. have befallen me, are the consequences only of my own folly and vice. What thou hast told me, Partridge, hath almost deprived me of my senses! And was Mrs. Waters, then-but why do I ask? For thou must certainly know her. If thou hast any affection for me; nay, if thou hast any pity, let WHILE Jones was employed in those un-me beseech thee to fetch this miserable wopleasant meditations, with which we left man back again to me. O, good heavens! him tormenting himself, Partridge came Incest with a mother! To what am I stumbling into the room with his face paler reserved? He then fell into the most viothan ashes, his eyes fixed in his head, his lent and frantic agonies of grief and dehair standing an end, and every limb trem-spair, in which Partridge declared he would bling. In short, he looked as he would have done had he seen a spectre, or had he, indeed, been a spectre himself. CHAPTER II. Containing a very tragical incident. Jones, who was little subject to fear, could not avoid being somewhat shocked with this sudden appearance. He did, indeed, himself change colour, and his voice a little faltered, while he asked him, What was the matter? 'I hope, sir,' said Partridge, you will not be angry with me. Indeed, I did not listen, but I was obliged to stay in the outward room. I am sure I wish I had been a hundred miles off, rather than have heard what I have heard.'-'Why, what's the matter?' said Jones. The matter, sir? O, good Heaven!' answered Partridge; 'was that woman who is just gone out, the woman who was with you at Upton ?-She was, Partridge,' cries Jones. And did you really, sir, go to bed with that woman?' said he, trembling. I am afraid what passed between us is no secret,' said Jones. Nay, but pray, sir, for Heaven's sake, sir, answer me,' cries Partridge. You know I did,' cries Jones. Why, then, the Lord have mercy upon your soul, and forgive you,' cries Partridge; but as sure as I not leave him; but at last, having vented the first torrent of passion, he came a little to himself; and then, having acquainted Partridge, that he would find this wretched woman in the same house where the wounded gentleman was lodged, he despatched him in quest of her. If the reader will please to refresh his memory, by turning to the scene at Upton, in the ninth book, he will be apt to admire the many strange accidents which unfortunately prevented any interview between Partridge and Mrs. Waters, when she spent a whole day there with Mr. Jones. Instarces of this kind we may frequently observe in life, where the greatest events are produced by a nice train of little circumstances; and more than one example of this may be discovered, by the accurate eye, in this our history. After a fruitless search of two or three hours, Partridge returned back to his master, without having seen Mrs. Waters. Jones, who was in a state of desperation at his delay, was almost raving mad when he brought him this account. He was not long, however, in this condition, before he received the following letter: |