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 'contrived to bring about this wickedness.'

'Sure,' cries Jones, fortune will never have done. with me, till she hath driven me to distraction. But why do I blame fortune? I am myself the 'cause of all my misery. All the dreadful mischiefs which 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 thenBut why do I ask? For thou must certainly know her-If thou hast any affection for me; nay, if thou hast any pity, let me beseech thee to fetch this miserable woman back again to me. O good heavens! Incest-with a mother! To what am I reserved?' He then fell into the most violent and frantic agonies of grief and despair, in which Partridge declared he would 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 dispatched 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 in

terview between Partridge and Mrs. Waters, when she spent a whole day there with Mr. Jones. Instances 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:

'SIR,

SINCE I left you, I have seen a gentleman, 'from whom I have learnt something concerning you which greatly surprises and affects me; but as I have not at present leisure to communicate a matter of such high importance, you must suspend your curiosity till our next meeting, which shall be the first moment I am able to see you. O Mr. Jones! little did I think, when I past that happy day at Upton, the reflection upon which 'is like to embitter all my future life, who it was to whom I owed such perfect happiness. Believe ' me to be ever sincerely your unfortunate

'J. WATERS.'

'P. S. I would have you comfort yourself as 'much as possible; for Mr. Fitzpatrick is in no manner of danger; so that whatever other grievous crimes you may have to repent of, the guilt ' of blood is not among the number.'

Jones having received the letter, let it drop (for he was unable to hold it, and indeed had scarce the use of any one of his faculties). Partridge took

it up, and having received consent by silence, read it likewise; nor had it upon him a less sensible effect. The pencil, and not the pen, should describe the horrors which appeared in both their countenances. While they both remained speechless, the turnkey entered the room, and without taking any notice of what sufficiently discovered itself in the faces of them both, acquainted Jones. that a man without desired to speak with him. This person was presently introduced, and was no other than Black George.

As sights of horror were not so usual to George as they were to the turnkey, he instantly saw the great disorder which appeared in the face of Jones. This he imputed to the accident that had happened, which was reported in the very worst light in Mr. Western's family; he concluded, therefore, that the gentleman was dead, and that Mr. Jones was in a fair way of coming to a shameful end. A thought which gave him much uneasiness; for George was of a compassionate disposition, and notwithstanding a small breach of friendship which he had been over-tempted to commit, was, in the main, not insensible of the obligations he had formerly received from Mr. Jones.

The poor fellow therefore scarce refrained from a tear at the present sight. He told Jones, he was heartily sorry for his misfortunes, and begged him to consider, if he could be of any manner of service. Perhaps, Sir,' said he, you may want a little matter of money upon this occasion; if you do, Sir, what little I have is heartily at your service.' Jones shook him very heartily by the hand, and gave him many thanks for the kind offer he had made; but answered 'He had not the least want

of that kind. Upon which George began to press his services more eagerly than before. Jones again thanked him, with assurances that he wanted nothing which was in the power of any man living to give. 'Come, come, my good master,' answered

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George, do not take the matter so much to heart. Things may end better than you imagine; to be sure you ant the first gentleman who hath killed a man, and yet come off. You are wide of the ' matter, George,' said Partridge, the gentleman is not dead, nor like to die. Don't disturb my master, at present, for he is troubled about a ' matter in which it is not in your power to do him any good.' 'You don't know what I may be able to do, Mr. Partridge,' answered George; if his concern is about my young lady, I have some news to tell my master." What do you say, Mr. George?' cried Jones, Hath any thing lately happened in which my Sophia is concerned? My Sophia! How dares such a wretch as I mention her so profanely. I hope she will be yours yet,' answered George.-Why, yes, Sir, I have something to tell you about her. Madam Western hath just brought Madam Sophia 'home, and there hath been a terrible to do. I 'could not possibly learn the very right of it; but my master he hath been in a vast big passion, and so was Madam Western, and I heard her say, as she went out of doors into her chair, that she 'would never set her foot in master's house again. 'I don't know what's the matter, not I, but every thing was very quiet when I came out; but Robin, who waited at supper, said he had never şeen the 'squire for a long while in such good humour with young Madam; that he kissed her 'several times, and swore she should be her own 'mistress, and he never would think of confining her any more. I thought this news would please you, and so I slipped out, though it was so late, to inform you of it.' Mr. Jones assured George that it did greatly please him; for though he should never more presume to lift his eyes towards that incomparable creature, nothing could so much relieve his misery as the satisfaction he should always have in hearing of her welfare,

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The rest of the conversation which passed at the visit is not important enough to be here related. The reader will therefore forgive us this abrupt breaking off, and be pleased to hear how this great good-will of the 'squire towards his daughter was brought about.

Mrs. Western, on her first arrival at her brother's lodging, began to set forth the great honours and advantages which would accrue to the family by the match with lord Fellamar, which her niece had absolutely refused; in which refusal, when the 'squire took the part of his daughter, she fell immediately into the most violent passion, and so irritated and provoked the 'squire, that neither his patience nor his prudence could bear it any longer; upon which there ensued between them both so warm a bout at altercation, that perhaps the regions of Billingsgate never equalled it. In the heat of this scolding, Mrs. Western departed, and had consequently no leisure to acquaint her brother with the letter which Sophia received, which might have possibly produced ill effects; but, to say truth, I believe it never once occurred to her memory at this time.

When Mrs. Western was gone, Sophia, who had been hitherto silent, as well indeed from necessity as inclination, began to return the compliment which her father had made her, in taking her part against her aunt, by taking his likewise against the lady. This was the first time of her so doing, and it was in the highest degree acceptable to the 'squire. Again, he remembered that Mr. Allworthy had insisted on an entire relinquishment of all violent means; and indeed, as he made no doubt but that Jones would be hanged, he did not in the least question succeeding with his daughter by fair means; he now therefore once more gave a loose to his natural fondness for her, which had such an effect on the dutiful, grateful, tender and affectionate heart of Sophia, that had her honour given