Miss Church and Sir Toby perform'd a cotillon, Just the same as our Susan and Bob the postillion; All the while her mamma was expressing her joy That her daughter the morning so well could employ.

Now, why should the muse, my dear mother, relate The misfortunes that fall to the lot of the great? As homeward we came -'tis with sorrow you'll

hear

What a dreadful disaster attended the peer!

For, whether some envious god had decreed
That to all this proud triumph some woe should
succeed;

Or whether his lordship was charmed to behold
His face in the stream, like Narcissus of old,
In handing old Lady Comefidget and daughter,
This obsequious lord tumbled into the water;
But a nymph of the flood brought him safe to the
boat,

And I left all the ladies a-cleaning his coat.

PARTRIDGE AT THE PLAYHOUSE.

FIELDING (1707-54).

[Henry Fielding, the author of "Joseph Andrews," "Tom Jones," and "Amelia," was the prince of novelists of his day nor has any one of a more modern date, surpassed him in wit, humour, satire, observation, genuine pictures of human nature without romance, and the most perfect art in the arrangement of plot and incidents. Had his

object been to "make the passions move at the command of virtue," he would have left nothing in his works to blame or to regret as it is, his sole object was to bend them to mirth and enjoyment, careless sometimes of the means he uses to effect it. Thus, his scenes are not always of the most delicate kind, and he is not a safe author for a young person to read indiscriminately. A passage from Fielding can convey no more idea of the work from which it is taken, nor of the varied form, vigour, and exuberance of practical knowledge, easy satire, and lively fancy, than a single stone or brick would of the architecture of a house. The present extract from "Tom Jones" is, however, highly amusing in itself, and is an admirable satire on ignorant criticism and vulgar taste, which always prefers the loud, the extravagant, and the glaring to the simple, the natural, and the true. Partridge is the faithful attendant of Jones, half barber, half schoolmaster, mingling a certain quaint shrewdness, with the simplicity of a child. It is his first visit to a theatre; and he has the advantage of seeing Garrick, the great actor of that day.]

(To be read in a light, sparkling, conversational style.)

In the first row of the first gallery, did Mr. Jones, Mrs. Miller, her youngest daughter, and Mr. Partridge, take their places. Partridge immediately declared it was the finest place he had ever been in. When the first music was played, he said: It was a wonder how so many fiddles could play at one time, without putting one another out. While the fellow was lighting the upper candles, he cried out to Mrs. Miller, "Look, look, madam, the very picture of the man in the common prayer-book, before the Gunpowder-Treason service!" Nor could he help observing with a

"here were candles enough burnt in one night, to keep an honest poor family for a whole twelvemonth."

As soon as the play, which was Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, began, Partridge was all attention; nor did he break silence, till the entrance of the ghost; upon which, he asked Jones, "What man that was in the strange dress; something," said he, "like what I have seen in a picture. Sure it is not armour, is it?" Jones answered "That is the ghost." To which Partridge replied, with a smile, "Persuade me to that, sir, if you can. Though I can't say I ever actually saw a ghost in my life, yet I am certain I should know one if I saw him, better than that comes to. No, no, sir; ghosts don't appear in such dresses as that, neither."

In this mistake, which caused much laughter in the neighbourhood of Partridge, he was suffered to continue till the scene between the ghost and Hamlet; when Partridge gave that credit to Mr. Garrick, which he had denied to Jones, and fell into so violent a trembling, that his knees knocked against each other. Jones asked him, what was the matter; and whether he was afraid of the warrior upon the stage. “Ola! sir,” said he, "I perceive now, it is what you told me. I am not afraid of anything; for I know it is but a play; and if it was really a ghost, it could do one no harm at such distance, and in so much company; and yet if I was frightened, I am not the 1y person."

hy who," cries Jones, "dost thou take to

be such a coward here, besides thyself?" "Nay, you may call me coward, if you will; but if that little man there upon the stage (meaning Garrick) is not frightened, I never saw any man frightened in my life. Ay, ay; go along with you! Ay, to be sure! Who's fool there? Will you? Lud, have mercy upon such foolhardiness! Whatever

happens it's good enough for you! Follow you! I'd follow the evil one, as soon! Nay, perhaps it is he; for they say, he can put on what likeness he pleases. Oh, here he is again! No farther? no, you've gone far enough already; further than I'd have gone for all the king's dominions."

Jones offered to speak, but Partridge cried,

Hush, hush, sir! don't you hear him?" And, during the whole speech of the ghost, he sat with his eyes fixed, partly on the ghost, and partly on Hamlet, and with his mouth open; the same passions, which succeeded each other in Hamlet, succeeding likewise in him.

When the scene was over, Jones said; Why, Partridge, you exceed my expectations: you enjoy the play, more than I conceived possible."

"Nay, sir," answered Partridge, "if you are not afraid, I can't help it; but, to be sure, it is natural to be surprised at such things, though I know there is nothing in them: not that it was the ghost, that surprised me neither; for I should have known that, to have been only a man in a strange dress; but, when I saw the little man so frightened himself, it was that which took hold of me!"

"And dost thou imagine," said Jones, "that he

66

Nay, sir;" said Partridge, "did not you yourself observe afterwards, when he found it was his own father's spirit, and how he was murdered in the garden, how his fear forsook him by degrees, and he was struck dumb with sorrow, as it were, just as I should have been, had it been my own case. But hush! O la! what noise is that? There he is again! Well, to be certain, though I know there's nothing at all in it, I'm glad I'm not down there, where those men are."

During the second act, Partridge made very few remarks. He greatly admired the fineness of the dresses; nor could he help observing, upon the king's countenance: Well," said he, "how people may be deceived by faces. Who would think by looking upon the king's face that he had ever committed a murder!" He then inquired after the ghost; but Jones, who intended he should be surprised, gave him no other satisfaction, than "that he might possibly see him again soon, and in a flash of fire."

Partridge sat in fearful expectation of this; and now, when the ghost made his next appearance, Partridge cried out, "There, sir, now; what say you now? Is he frightened now, or no? As much frightened as you think me, and to be sure, nobody can help some fears. I would not be in so bad a condition as what's his name - Squire Hamlet is there, for all the world! Bless me! what's became of the spirit? As I am a living soul, I thought I saw him sink into the earth!"

"Indeed, you saw right," answered Jones.