glad the gentlewoman had paid her, though not half what she had deserved." The poor woman had indeed fared much the worst, having, besides the unmerciful cuffs received, lost a quantity of hair, which Mrs Slipslop in triumph held in her left hand.

The traveller, addressing himself to Mrs Graveairs, desired her not to be frightened; for here had been only a little boxing, which, he said, to their disgracia the English were accustomata to: adding, it must be, however, a sight somewhat strange to him, who was just come from Italy, the Italians not being addicted to the cuffurdo, but bastonza, says he.. He then went up to Adams, and telling him, he looked like the ghost of Othello, bid him not shake his gory locks at him, for he could not say he did it. Adams very innocently answered, Sir, I am far from accusing you." He then returned to the lady, and cried, "I find the bloody gentleman is uno insipido del nullo senso. Dammatandi me, if I have seen such a spectaculo in my way from Viterbo."

One of the gentlemen, having learned from the host the occasion of this bustle, and being assured by him that Adams had struck the first blow, whispered in his ear, he'd warrant he would recover. "Recover! master," said the host smiling: "Yes, yes, I am not afraid of dying with a blow or two neither; I am not such a chicken as that." "Pugh!" said the gentleman, "I mean you will recover damages in that action which undoubtedly you intend to bring, as soon as a writ can be returned from London; for you look like a man of too much spirit and courage to suffer any one to beat you without bringing your action against him: he must be a scandalous fellow indeed, who would put up a drubbing, whilst the law is open to revenge it; besides, he hath drawn blood from you, and spoiled your coat; and the jury will give damages for that too. An excellent new coat, upon my word, and now not worth a shilling!"

"I don't care," continued he, "to intermeddle in these cases; but you have a right to my evidence; and if I am sworn, I must speak the truth. I saw you sprawling on the floor, and the blood gushing from your nostrils. You may take your own opinion; but was I in your circumstances, every drop of my blood should convey an ounce of gold into my pocket: remember, I don't advise you to go to law; but if your jury were Christians, they must give swinging damages. That's all." "Master," cried the host, scratching his head, "I have no stomach to law, I thank you. I have seen enough of that in the parish, where two of my neighbours have been at law about a house, till they have both lawed themselves into a gaol." At which words, he turned about, and began to inquire again after his hog's puddings; nor would it probably have been a sufficient excuse for his wife, that she

spilt them in his defence, had not some awe of the company, especially of the Italian traveller, who was a person of great dignity, withheld his rage. Whilst one of the above-mentioned gentlemen was employed, as we have seen him, on the behalf of the landlord, the other was no less hearty on the side of Mr Adams, whom he advised to bring his action immediately. He said the assault of the wife was in law the assault of the husband; for they were but one person and he was liable to pay damages, which he said must be considerable, where so bloody a disposition appeared. Adams answered, if it was true that they were but one person, he had assaulted the wife; for he was sorry to own he had struck the husband the first blow. "I am sorry you, own it too," cries the gentleman; "for it could not possibly appear to the court: for here was no evidence present, but the lame man in the chair, whom I suppose to be your friend, and would consequently say nothing but what made for you." "How, sir," says Adams, “do you take me for a villain, who would prosecute re venge in cold blood, and use unjustifiable means to obtain it? If you knew me and my order, I should think you affronted both." At the word order, the gentleman stared, (for he was too bloody to be of any modern order of knights,) and turning hastily about, said, “ Every man knew his own business."

Matters being now composed, the company retired to their several apartments, the two gentlemen congratulating each other on the success of their good offices, in procuring a perfect reconciliation between the contending parties; and the traveller went to his repast, crying, "As the Italian poet says,

"Je voi very well, que tuta e pace,
So send up dinner, good Boniface."

The coachman began now to grow importunate with his passengers, whose entrance into the coach was retarded by Miss Graveairs insisting, against the remonstrance of all the rest, that she would not admit a footman into the coach; for poor Joseph was too lame to mount. a horse. A young lady, who was, as it seems, an earl's grand-daughter, begged it with almost tears in her eyes. Mr Adams prayed, and Mrs Slipslop scolded, but all to no purpose. She said, "She would not demean herself to ride with a footman: that there were waggons on the road: that if the master of the coach desired it, she would pay for two places: but would suffer no such fellow to come in." "Madam," says Slipslop, "I am sure no one can refuse another coming into a stage-coach." "I don't know, madam," says the lady, "I am not much used to stage-coaches, I seldom travel in them.” "That may be, madam," replied Slipslop, "very good people do, and some people's betters, for aught I know." Miss Graveairs said, "Some

folks might sometimes give their tongues a liberty, to some people that were their betters, which did not become them: for her part, she was not used to converse with servants." Slipslop returned, "Some people kept no servants to converse with for her part, she thanked heaven she lived in a family where there were a great many; and had more under her own command, than any paltry little gentlewoman in the kingdom." Miss Graveairs cried, "She believed her mistress would not encourage such sauciness to her betters." "My betters," says Slipslop, "who is my betters, pray?” I am your betters," answered Miss Graveairs, "and I'll acquaint your mistress." At which Mrs Slipslop laughed aloud, and told her, "Her lady was one of the great gentry, and such little paltry gentlewomen, as some folks who travelled in stage-coaches, would not easily come at her."

This smart dialogue between some people and some folks, was going on at the coach-door, when a solemn person riding into the inn, and seeing Miss Graveairs, immediately accosted her with, "Dear child, how do you?" She presently answered, "O! papa, I am glad you have overtaken me." "So am I," answered he; "for one of our coaches is just at hand; and there being room for you in it, you shall go no farther in the stage, unless you desire it." "How can you imagine I should desire it?" says she; so bidding Slipslop ride with her fellow, if she pleased, she took her father by the hand, who was just alighted, and walked with him into a room.

Adams instantly asked the coachman in a whisper, if he knew who the gentleman was? The coachman answered, "He was now a gentleman, and kept his horse and man: but times are altered, master," said he; "I remember when he was no better born than myself." "Ay! ay"" said Adams. "My father drove the squire's coach," answered he, "when that very man rode postilion: but he is now his steward, and a great gentleman." Adams then snapped his fingers, and cried, "He thought she was some such trollop."

Adams made haste to acquaint Mrs Slipslop with this good news, as he imagined it; but it found a reception different from what he expected. The prudent gentlewoman, who despised the anger of Miss Graveairs, whilst she conceived her the daughter of a gentleman of small fortune, now she heard her alliance with the upper servants of a great family in her neighbourhood, began to fear her interest with the mistress. She wished she had not carried the dispute so far, and began to think of endeavouring to reconcile herself to the young lady before she left the inn; when luckily the scene at London, which the reader can scarce have forgotten, presented itself to her mind, and comforted her with such assurance, that she no longer apprehended any enemy with her mis

tress.

Every thing being now adjusted, the company entered the coach, which was just on its departure, when one lady recollected she had left her fan, a second her gloves, a third a snuff-box, and a fourth a smelling-bottle behind her; to find all which, occasioned some delay, and much swearing to the coachman.

As soon as the coach had left the inn, the women all together fell to the character of Miss Graveairs, whom one of them declared, she had suspected to be some low creature, from the beginning of their journey; and another affirmed, had not even the looks of a gentlewoman; a third warranted, she was no better than she should be; and turning to the lady who had related the story in the coach, said, "Did you ever hear, madam, any thing so prudish as her remarks? Well, deliver me from the censoriousness of such a prude!" The fourth added, “O, madam! all these creatures are censorious: but for my part, I wonder where the wretch was bred. Indeed I must own, I have seldom conversed with these mean kind of people; so that it may appear stranger to me; but to refuse the general desire of a whole company, had something in it so astonishing, that, for my part, I own I should hardly believe it, if my own ears had not been witnesses to it." Yes, and so handsome a young fellow," cries Slipslop: "the woman must have no compulsion in her; I be lieve she is more of a Turk than a Christian; I am certain, if she had any Christian woman's blood in her veins, the sight of such a young fellow must have warmed it. Indeed there are some wretched miserable old objects, that turn one's stomach; I should not wonder if she had refused such a one; I am as nice as herself, and should have cared no more than herself for the company of stinking old fellows: but, hold up thy head, Joseph, thou art none of those; and she who hath not compulsion for thee is a Myhummetman, and I will maintain it." This conversation made Joseph uneasy, as well as the ladies; who, perceiving the spirits which Mrs Slipslop was in, (for indeed she was not a cup too low,) began to fear the consequence; one of them therefore desired the lady to conclude the story." Ay, madam," said Slipslop, "I beg your ladyship to give us that story you commensated in the morning." Which request that well-bred woman immediately complied with.

CHAP. VI.

Conclusion of the Unfortunate Jilt.

LEONORA having once broke through the bounds which custom and modesty impose on her sex, soon gave an unbridled indulgence to her passion. Her visits to Bellarmine were more constant, as well as longer, than his surgeon's: in a word, she became absolutely his nurse, made

his water-gruel, administered him his medicines, and, notwithstanding the prudent advice of her aunt to the contrary, almost entirely resided in her wounded lover's apartment.

The ladies of the town began to take her conduct under consideration; it was the chief topic of discourse at their tea-tables, and was very severely censured by the most part; especially by Lindamira, a lady whose discreet and starch carriage, together with a constant attendance at church three times a-day, had utterly defeated many malicious attacks on her own reputation: for such was the envy that Lindamira's virtue had attracted, that, notwithstanding her own strict behaviour, and strict inquiry into the lives of others, she had not been able to escape being the mark of some arrows herself, which however did her no injury; a blessing perhaps owed by her to the clergy, who were her chief male companions, and with two or three of whom she had been barbarously and unjustly calumniated. "Not so unjustly neither, perhaps," says Slipslop; " for the clergy are men, as well as other folks."

The extreme delicacy of Lindamira's virtue was cruelly hurt by those freedoms which Leonora allowed herself: she said, "It was an affront to her sex; that she did not imagine it consistent with any woman's honour to speak to the creature, or to be seen in her company; and that, for her part, she should always refuse to dance at an assembly with her, for fear of contamination, by taking her by the hand."

But to return to my story: as soon as Bellarmine was recovered, which was somewhat with in a month from his receiving the wound, he set out, according to agreement, for Leonora's father's, in order to propose the match, and settle all matters with him touching settlements, and the like.

A little before his arrival, the old gentleman had received an intimation of the affair by the following letter, which I can repeat verbatim, and which, they say, was written neither by Leonora nor her aunt, though it was in a woman's hand. The letter was in these words:

"SIR,

"I am sorry to acquaint you, that your daughter Leonora hath acted one of the basest, as well as most simple parts with a young gentleman to whom she had engaged herself, and whom she hath (pardon the word) jilted for another of inferior fortune, notwithstanding his superior figure. You may take what measures you please on this occasion; I have performed what I thought my duty; as I have, though unknown to you, a very great respect for your family."

The old gentleman did not give himself the trouble to answer this kind epistle; nor did he take any notice of it after he had read it, 'till he saw Bellarmine. He was, to say the truth, one

of those fathers who look on children as an unhappy consequence of their youthful pleasures; which, as he would have been delighted not to have had attended them, so he was no less pleased with any opportunity to rid himself of the incumbrance. He passed, in the world's language, as an exceeding good father, being not only so rapacious as to rob and plunder all mankind to the utmost of his power, but even to deny himself the conveniences, and almost ne cessaries of life; which his neighbours attributed to a desire of raising immense fortunes for his children; but in fact it was not so: he heaped up money for its own sake only, and looked on his children as his rivals, who were to enjoy his beloved mistress, when he was incapable of possessing her, and which he would have been much more charmed with the power of carrying along with him: nor had his children any other security of being his heirs, than that the law would constitute them such without a will, and that he had not affection enough for any one li ving to take the trouble of writing one.

To this gentleman came Bellarmine on the errand I have mentioned. His person, his equipage, his family, and his estate, seemed to the father to make him an advantageous match for his daughter; he therefore very readily accepted his proposals: but when Bellarmine imagined the principal affair concluded, and began to open the incidental matters of fortune, the old gentleman presently changed his countenance, saying, he resolved never to marry his daughter on a Smithfield match; that whoever had love for her to take her, would, when he died, find her share of his fortune in his coffers: but he had seen such examples of undutifulness happen from the too early generosity of parents, that he had made a vow never to part with a shilling whilst he lived. He commended the saying of Solomon, He that spareth the rod, spoileth the child: but added, he might have likewise asserted, that he that spareth the purse, saveth the child. He then ran into a discourse on the extravagance of the youth of the age; whence he launched into a dissertation on horses, and came at length to commend those Bellarmine drove. That fine gentleman, who, at another season, would have been well enough pleased to dwell a little on that subject, was now very eager to resume the circumstance of fortune. He said, "He had a very high value for the young lady, and would receive her with less than he would any other whatever; but that even his love to her made some regard to worldly matters necessary; for it would be a most distracting sight for him to see her, when he had the honour to be her husband, in less than a coach and six." The old gentleman answered, "Four will do, four will do;" and then took a turn from horses to extravagance, and from extravagance to horses, till he came round to the equipage again, whither he was no sooner arrived than Bellarmine brought him

back to the point, but all to no purpose; he made his escape from that subject in a minute; till at last the lover declared, "That, in the present situation of his affairs, it was impossible for him, though he loved Leonora more than tout le monde, to marry her without any fortune." To which the father answered, "He was sorry then his daughter must lose so valuable a match; that if he had an inclination, at present it was not in his power to advance a shilling: that he had had great losses, and been at great expences on projects, which, though he had great expectations from them, had yet produced him nothing; that he lid not know what might happen hereafter, as on the birth of a son, or such accident; but he would make no promise, nor enter into any article: for he would not break his vow for all the daughters in the world."

In short, ladies, to keep you no longer in suspense, Bellarmine having tried every argument and persuasion that he could invent, and finding them all ineffectual, at length took his leave, but not in order to return to Leonora ; he proceeded directly to his own seat, whence, after a few days stay, he returned to Paris, to the great delight of the French, and the honour of the English nation.

But as soon as he arrived at his home, he presently dispatched a messenger with the following epistle to Leonora.

"ADORABLE AND CHARMANTE, "I AM Sorry to have the honour to tell you I am not the heureux person destined for your divine arms. Your papa hath told me so with a politesse not often seen on this side Paris. You may perhaps guess his manner of refusing me. -Ah mon Dieu! You will certainly believe me, madame, incapable myself of delivering this triste message, which I intend to try the French air to cure the consequences of A jamais! Caur! Ange!-Au diable !If your papa obliges you to a marriage, I hope we shall see you at Paris; till when the wind that flows from thence will be the warmest dans le monde : for it will consist almost entirely of my sighs. Adieu, ma princesse ! Ah l'amour!

"BELLARMINE."

I shall not attempt, ladies, to describe Leonora's condition, when she received this letter. It is a picture of horror, which I should have as little pleasure in drawing as you in beholding. She immediately left the place, where she was the subject of conversation and ridicule, and retired to that house I shewed you when I began the story; where she hath ever since led a disconsolate life, and deserves perhaps pity for her misfortunes, more than our censure for a behaviour to which the artifices of her aunt very probably contributed, and to which very young women are often rendered too liable by

that blameable levity in the education of our

sex.

"If I was inclined to pity her," said a young lady in the coach, "it would be for the loss of Horatio; for I cannot discern any misfortune in her missing such a husband as Bellarmine." "Why, I must own," says Slipslop, "the gentleman was a little false-hearted: but howsumever, it was hard to have two lovers, and get never a husband at all. But pray, madam, what became of Our-asho?"

He remains, said the lady, still unmarried, and hath applied himself so strictly to his business, that he hath raised, I hear, a very considerable fortune. And what is remarkable, they say, he never hears the name of Leonora without a sigh, nor hath ever uttered one syllable to charge her with her ill conduct towards him.

A

CHAP. VII.

very short chapter, in which Parson Adams went a great way.

THE lady having finished her story, received the thanks of the company: and now Joseph, putting his head out of the coach, cried out, "Never believe me if yonder be not Parson Adams walking along without his horse." "On my word, and so he is," says Slipslop; "and as sure as twopence he hath left him behind at the inn." Indeed, true it is, the parson had exhibited a fresh instance of his absense of mind: for he was so pleased with having got Joseph into the coach, that he never once thought of the beast in the stable; and finding his legs as nimble as he desired, he sallied out brandishing a crab-stick, and had kept on before the coach, mending and slackening his pace occasionally, so that he had never been much more or less than a quarter of a mile distant from it.

Mrs Slipslop desired the coachman to overtake him, which he attempted, but in vain : for the faster he drove, the faster the parson ran, often crying out, Ay, ay, catch me if you can:" till at length the coachman swore he would as soon attempt to drive after a greyhound; and giving the parson two or three hearty curses, he cried, "Softly, softly, boys," to his horses, which the civil beasts immediately obeyed.

But we will be more courteous to our reader than he was to Mrs Slipslop; and leaving the coach and its company to pursue their journey, we will carry our reader on after Parson Adams, who stretched forwards without looking once behind him, till having left the coach full three miles in his rear, he came to a place, where, by keeping the extremest track to the right, it was just barely possible for a human creature to miss his way. This track, however, did he

keep, as indeed he had a wonderful capacity at these kind of bare possibilities; and travelling in it about three miles over the plain, he arrived at the summit of a hill, whence, looking a great way backwards, and perceiving no coach in sight, he sat himself down on the turf, and pulling out his Eschylus, determined to wait here for its arrival.

He had not sat long here, before a gun going off very near a little startled him; he looked up, and saw a gentleman within a hundred paces taking up a partridge, which he had just shot.

Adams stood up, and presented a figure to the gentleman which would have moved laughter in many; for his cassock had just again fallen down below his great coat, that is to say it reached his knees; whereas the skirt of his great-coat descended no lower than half way down his thighs: but the gentleman's mirth gave way to his surprise at beholding such a personage in such a place.

Adams, advancing to the gentleman, told him, he hoped he had good sport; to which the other answered, Very little." "I see, sir," said Adams, " you have smote one partridge:" to which the sportsman made no reply, but proceeded to charge his piece.

Whilst the gun was charging, Adams remained in silence, which he at last broke, by observing, that it was a delightful evening. The gentleman, who had at first sight conceived a distasteful opinion of the parson, began, on perceiving a book in his hand, and smoaking likewise the information of the cassock, to change his thoughts, and made a small advance to conversation on his side, by saying, "Sir, I suppose you are not one of these parts?"

Adams immediately told him, "No: that he was a traveller, and invited by the beauty of the evening and the place, to repose a little, and amuse himself with reading.' "I may as well repose myself too," said the sportsman; "for I have been out this whole afternoon, and the devil a bird have I seen till I came hither." "Perhaps then the game is not very plenty hereabouts," cries Adams." No, sir," said the gentleman; "the soldiers who are quartered in the neighbourhood have killed it all." "It is very probable," cries Adams; "for shooting is their profession." "Ay, shooting the game," answered the other, "but I don't see they are so forward to shoot our enemies. I don't like that affair of Carthagena; if I had been there, I believe I should have done other guess things, d-n_me; what's a man's life when his country demands it? A man who won't sacrifice his life for his country deserves to be hang'd, d-n me." Which words he spoke with so violent a gesture, so loud a voice, so strong an accent, and so fierce a countenance, that he might have frightened a captain of trained bands at the head of his company; but Mr

"OL. I.

Adams was not greatly subject to fear: he told him intrepidly, that he very much approved his virtue, but disliked his swearing, and begged him not to addict himself to so bad a custom, without which he said he might fight as bravely as Achilles did. Indeed he was charmed with this discourse; he told the gentleman he would willingly have gone many miles to have met a man of his generous way of thinking; that if he pleased to sit down, he should be greatly delighted to commune with him: for though he was a clergyman, he would himself be ready, if thereto called, to lay down his life for his country.

The gentleman sat down, and Adams by him; and then the latter began, as in the following chapter, a discourse which we have placed by itself, as it is not only the most curious in this, but perhaps in any other book.

CHAP. VIII.

A notable dissertation by Mr Abraham Adams, wherein that gentleman appears in a political light.

"I Do assure you, sir," says he, taking the gentleman by the hand, "I am heartily glad to meet with a man of your kidney for though I am a poor parson, I will be bold to say, I am an honest man, and would not do an ill thing to be made a bishop: nay, though it hath not fallen in my way to offer so noble a sacrifice, I have not been without opportunities of suffering for the sake of my conscience, I thank heaven for them; for I have had relations, though I say it, who made some figure in the world, particularly a nephew who was a shopkeeper, and an alderman of a corporation. He was a good lad, and was under my care when a boy, and I believe would do what I bade him to his dying day. Indeed it looks like extreme vanity in me, to affect being a man of such consequence, as to have so great an interest in an alderman; but others have thought so too, as manifestly appeared by the rector, whose curate I formerly was, sending for me on the approach of an election, and telling me, if I expected to continue in his cure, that I must bring my nephew to vote for one Colonel Courtly, a gentle man whom I had never heard tidings of till that instant. I told the rector, I had no power over my nephew's vote, (God forgive me for such prevarication!) that I supposed he would give it according to his conscience; that I would by no means endeavour to influence him to give it otherwise. He told me, it was in vain to equivocate; that he knew I had already spoke to him in favour of Esquire Fickle my neighbour; and indeed it was true I had; for it was at a season when the church was in danger, and when all good men expected they knew not

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