some very frantic raptures, notwithstanding his company; but, perhaps, these very raptures made him forget he was not alone.

While Jones was kissing and mumbling the book, as if he had an excellent brown buttered crust in his mouth, or as if he had really been, a book-worm, or an author, who had nothing to eat but his own works, a piece of paper fell from its leaves to the ground, which Partridge took up, and delivered to Jones, who presently per ceived it to be a bank-bill. It was, indeed, the very bill which Western had given his daugh. ter the night before her departure; and a Jew would have jumped to purchase it at five shillings

less than 100/.

The eyes of Partridge sparkled at this news, which Jones now proclaimed aloud; and so did (though with somewhat a different aspect) those of the poor fellow who had found the book; and who (I hope from a principle of honesty) had never opened it: but we should not deal honestly by the reader, if we omitted to inform him of a circumstance which may be here a little material, viz. that the fellow could not read.

Jones, who had felt nothing but pure joy and transport from the finding the book, was affected with a mixture of concern at this new discovery; for his imagination instantly suggested to him, that the owner of the bill might possibly want it, before he should be able to convey it to her. then acquainted the finder, that he knew the lady to whom the book belonged, and would endea vour to find her out as soon as possible, and return it her.

He

The pocket-book was a late present from Mrs. Western to her niece: it had cost five-and-twenty shillings, having been bought of a celebrated

toyman; but the real value of the silver, which it contained in its clasp, was about eighteenpence; and that price the said toyman, as it was altogether as good as when it first issued from his shop, would now have given for it. A prudent person would, however, have taken proper advantage of the ignorance of this fellow, and would not have offered more than a shilling, or perhaps sixpeace, for it; nay, some perhaps would have given nothing, and left the fellow to his action of trover, which some learned serjeants may doubt whether he could, under these circumstances, have maintained.

Jones, on the contrary, whose character was on the outside of generosity, and may, perhaps, not very unjustly have been suspected of extra vagance, without any hesitation, gave a guinea in exchange for the book. The poor man, who had not for a long time before been possessed of so much treasure, gave Mr. Jones a thousand thanks, and discovered little less of transport in his muscles, than Jones had before shown, when he had first read the name of Sophia Western.

The fellow very readily agreed to attend our travellers to the place where he had found the pocket-book. Together, therefore, they proceeded directly thither; but not so fast as Mr. Jones desired; for his guide unfortunately happened to be lame, and could not possibly travel faster than a mile an hour. As this place, there. fore, was at above three miles distance, though the fellow had said otherwise, the reader neod not be acquainted how long they were in walk. ing it.

Jones opened the book a hundred times during their walk, kissed it as often, talked much to himself, and very little to his companions. At

VOL. III.

all which the guide expressed some signs of astonishment to Partridge; who more than once shook his head, and cried, 'Poor gentleman! 'orandum est ut sit mens sana in corpore sano.'

At length they arrived at the very spot where Sophia unhappily dropped the pocket-book, and Here where the fellow had as happily found it. Jones offered to take leave of his guide, and to improve his pace; but the fellow, in whom that violent surprise and joy, which the first receipt of the guinea had occasioned, was now considerably abated, and who had now had sufficient time to recollect himself, put on a discontented look, and, scratching his head, said, 'He hoped his Your 'worship would give him something more. 'worship,' said he, will, I hope, take it into < your consideration, that if I had not been honest, I might have kept the whole.' And, indeed, this the reader must confess to have been true. 'If the paper there,' said he, be worth 1007. I am sure the finding it deserves more than a guinea. Besides, suppose your worship should < never see the lady, nor give it her—and though < your worship looks and talks very much like a < gentleman, yet I have only your worship's bare

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word; and, certainly, if the right owner been't 'to be found, it all belongs to the first finder. 'I hope your worship will consider of all these ' matters. I am but a poor man, and therefore 'don't desire to have all; but it is but reasonable I should have my share. Your worship looks like a good man, and, I hope, will consider < my honesty; for I might have kept every farthing, and nobody ever the wiser.'-' I promise thee, upon my honour,' cries Jones, that I know the right owner, and will restore it her. Nay, your worship,' answered the fellow,

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may do as you please as to that; if you will but 'give me my share, that is, one-half of the money, your honour may keep the rest yourself, if you please; and concluded with swearing, by a very vehement oath, that he would never mention a syllable of it to any man living.'

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Lookee, friend,' cries Jones, the right owner shall certainly have again all that she lost; and as for any farther gratuity, I really cannot give it you at present; but let me know your name, and where you live, and it is more than possible, 'you may hereafter have further reason to rejoice ' at this morning's adventure.'

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'I don't know what you mean by venture,' cries the fellow; it seems I must venture whe❝ ther you will return the lady her money or no; but I hope your worship will consider Come, come,' 'said Partridge, tell his honour your name, and where you may be found; I warrant you will never repeut having put the money into his hands.' The fellow seeing no hopes of recovering the possession of the pocket-book, at last complied in giving in his name and place of abode, which Jones writ upon a piece of paper with the pencil of Sophia; and then placing the paper in the same page where she had writ her he cried out, There, friend, you are name, the happiest man alive: I have joined your < name to that of an angel.'-' I don't know any thing about angels,' answered the fellow; but I wish you would give me a little more money," 6 or else return me the pocket-book.' Partridge now waxed wrath: he called the poor cripple by several vile and opprobrious names, and wis absolutely proceeding to beat him, but Jones would not suffer any such thing: and now telling the fellow he would certainly find some oppor

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tunity of serving him, Mr. Jones departed as fast as his heels would carry him; and Partridge, into whom the thoughts of the hundred pounds had infused new spirits, followed his leader; while the man, who was obliged to stay behind, fell to cursing them both, as well as his parents; for had they,' says he, sent me to a charity-school to learn to write and read and cast accounts, I should have known the value of these matters as well as other people.'

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CHAP. V.

Containing more adventures which Mr. Jones and his companion met on the road.

OUR travellers now walked so fast, that they had very little time or breath for conversation; Jones meditating all the way on Sophia, and Partridge on the bank-bill, which, though it gave him some pleasure, caused him at the same time to repine at fortune, which, in all his walks, had never given him such an opportunity of showing his honesty. They had proceeded above three miles, when Partridge, being unable any longer to keep up with Jones, called to him, and begged him a little to slacken his pace: with this he was the more ready to comply, as he had for some time lost the footsteps of the horses, which the thaw had enabled him to trace for several miles, and he was now upon a wide common, where were several roads.

He here therefore stopped to consider which of these roads he should pursue; when on sudden