What, doth your Ladyfhip think I don't know then? I affure you he told me all.' What faucy fellow,' cries Honour, told you any thing of my lady?' No faucy fellow,' anfwered the landlady, but the young gentleman you enquired after, and a very pretty young gentleman he is, and he loves Madam Sophia Western to the bottom of his foul.' • He love my lady! I'd have you to know, woman, fhe is meat for his master.'- Nay Honour,' faid Sophia, interrupting her, don't be angry with the good woman; the intends no harm.' No, marry

don't ' anfwered the landlady, emboldened by the foft accents of Sophia, and then launched into a long narrative too tedious to be here fet down, in which fome paffages dropt, that gave a little offence to Sophia, and much more to her waiting-woman, who hence took occafion to abuse poor Jones to her miftrefs the moment they were alone together, faying,

that he must be a very pitiful fellow, and could have no love for a lady, whofe name he would thus proftitute in an alehouse.'

Sophia did not fee his behaviour in fo very difadvantageous a light, and was perhaps more pleased with the violent raptures of his love, (which the landlady exaggerated as much as the had done every other circumftance), than fhe was offended with the reft; and indeed the imputed the whole to the extravagance, or rather ebullience of his paffion, and to the opennefs of his heart.

This incident, however, being afterwards reviveď in her mind, and placed in the most odious colours' by Honour, ferved to heighten and give credit to thofe unlucky occurrences at upton, and aflifted the waiting woman in her endeavours to make her miftrefs depart from that inn, without feeing Jones.

The landlady. finding Sophia intended to ftay no longer than till her hortes were ready, and that without either eating or drinking, foon withdrew; when Honour began to take her mistress to talk, (for indeed fhe ufed great freedom), and after a long harangue, in which the reminded her of her intention to go to London, and gave frequent hints of the impropriety

of

purfuing a young fellow, fhe at last concluded with this ferious exhortation: For Heaven's fake, Madam, confider what you are about, and whither you are going.'

This advice to a lady who had already rode near forty miles, and in no very agreeable feafon, may feem foolish enough. It may be fuppofed the had well confidered and refolved this already; nay, Mrs. Honour, by the hints she threw out, feemed to think fo; and this, I doubt not,, is the opinion of many readers, who have, I make no doubt, been long fince well convinced of the purpose of our heroine, and have hear tily condemned her for it as a wanton baggage

But in reality this was not the cafe. Sophia had been lately fo distracted between hope and fear, her duty and love to her father, her hatred to Blifil, her compaffion, and (why fhould we not confefs the truth?) her love for Jones; which laft the behaviour of her father, of her aunt, of every one else, and more particularly of Jones himself, had blown into a flame, that her mind was in that confused ftate, which may be truly faid to make us ignorant of what we do, or whither we go, or rather indeed indifferent as to the confequence of either.

The prudent and fage advice of her maid produ- * ced, however, fome cool reflection; and the at length determined to go to Gloucester, and thence to proceed directly to London.

But unluckily, a few miles before the entered that town, he met the hack-attorney, who, as is before mentioned, had dined there with Mr. Jones. This fellow, being well known to Mrs. Honour, stopt and fpoke to her; of which Sophia at that time took lit tle notice, more than to enquire who he was.

But having had a more particular account from Honour of this man afterwards at Gloucester, and hearing of the great expedition he ufually made in travelling, for which (as hath been before observed), he was particularly famous; recollecting likewife, that he had overheard Mrs. Honour inform him, that they were going to Gloucester, she began to fear left her father might, by this fellow's means, be able

to

to trace her to that city; wherefore, if she should there Atrike into the London road, the appréhended he would certainly be able to overtake her. She therefore altered her refolution; and having hired horfes to go a week's journey, a way which the did not intend to travel, the again fet forward after a light refreshment, contrary to the defire and earnest entreaties of her maid, and to the no lefs vehement remonftrances of Mrs. Whitefield, who from good-breeding, or perhaps from good-nature, (for the poor young lady appeared much fatigued), preffed her very heartily to ftay that evening at Gloucefter.

Having refreshed herfelf only with fome tea, and with lying about two hours on the bed, while her horfes were getting ready, fhe refolutely left Mrs. Whitefield's about eleven at night, and, ftriking directly into the Worcester road, within lefs than four hours arrived at that very inn where we last faw her.

Having thus traced our heroine very particularly back from her departure, till her arrival at Upton, we fhall in a very few words bring her father to the fame place; who having received the firft fcent from the bost-boy, who conducted his daughter to Hambrook, very eafily traced her afterwards to Gloucefer; whence he purfued her to Upton, as he had learned Mr. Jones had taken that route, (for Partridge, to use the 'fquire's expreffion, left every where a ftrong fcent behind him), and he doubted not in the leaft but Sophia travelled, or, as he phrafed it, ran the fame way. He ufed indeed a very course expreffion, which need not be here inferted; as foxhunters, who alone would understand it, will eafily fuggeft it to themselves.

THE

THE

HISTORY

OF A

FOUND LIN G.

BOOK XI.

Containing about three days..

CHAP. I.

A cruft for the critics.

our laft initial chapter, we may be fuppofed to

called critics, with more freedom than becomes us; fince they exact, and indeed generally receive, great condefcenfion from authors. We fhall in this, therefore, give the reafons of our conduct to this auguft body; and here we fhall perhaps place them in a light, in which they have not hitherto been seen.

This word critic is of Greek derivation, and fignifies judgment. Hence I prefume fome perfons whe have not understood the original, and have feen the English tranflation of the primitive, have concluded, that it meant judgment in the legal fenfe, in which it is frequently ufed as equivalent to condemnation.

I am the rather inclined to be of that opinion, as the greatest number of critics hath of late years been found amongst the lawyers. Many of thefe gentlemen, from defpair, perhaps, of ever rising to the bench in Q3 Weftmin

Weftminster-hall, have placed themselves on the benches at the play-houfe, where they have exerted their judicial capacity, and have given judgment, i. e. condemned without mercy.

The gentlemen would perhaps be well enough pleafed, if we were to leave them thus compared to one of the most important and honourable offices in the commonwealth, and, if we intended to apply to their favour, we would do fo; but, as we defign to deal very fincerely and plainly too with them, we muft remind them of another officer of justice of a much lower rank; to whom, as they not only pronounce, but execute their own judgment, they bear likewife fome remote resemblance.

But in reality there is another light, in which these modern critics may with great juftice and propriety be feen; and this is that of a common flanderer. If a person who pries into the characters of others, with no other defign but to discover their faults, and to publifh them to the world, deferves the title of flanderer of the reputations of men; why should not a critic, who reads with the fame malevolent view, be as properly tiled the flanderer of the reputation of books?

Vice hath not, I believe, a more abject flave; fociety produces not a more odious vermin; nor can the devil receive a guest more worthy of him, nor poffibly more welcome to him, than a flanderer. The world, I am afraid, regards not this monster with half the abhorrence which he deferves; and I am more afraid to affign the reafon of this criminal lenity fhewn towards him; yet it is certain, that the thief looks innocent in the comparifon; nay, the murderer himfelf can seldom ftand in competition with his guilt: for flander is a more cruel weapon than a sword, as the wounds which the former gives are always incurable. One method, indeed, there is of killing, and that the baseft and most execrable of all, which bears an exact analogy to the vice here difclaimed againft, and that is poison: A means of revenge fo bafe, and yet fo horrible, that it was once wifely distinguished by our laws from all other murders, in the peculiar feverity of the punishment.

Befides