• Did your Ladyfhip indeed?' cries Sophia, blushing, and affecting a Laugh.

Yes, I vow I did,' anfwered fhe, 'I can't imagine what put it into it into my Head: For, give the Fellow his due, he was genteelly dreft; which, I think, dear Sophy, is not commonly the Cafe with < your Friend.'

This Raillery,' cries Sophia, is a lit tle cruel, Lady Bellafton, after my Pro• mife to your Ladyhip.'

Not at all, Child,' faid the Lady;-• It would have been cruel before; but af⚫ter you have promifed me never to marry without your Father's Confent, in which you know is implied your giving up Jones, fure you can bear a little Raillery on a Paffion which was pardonable enough in a young Girl in the Country, and of which you tell me you have fo entirely got the better. What must I think, my dear Sophy, if you cannot bear a little Ridicule even on his Drefs? I • fhall begin to fear you are very far gone indeed; and almoft queftion whether you have dealt ingenuously with me.' • Indeed,

Indeed, Madam,' cries Sophia,' your Ladyship mistakes me, if you imagine I • had any Concern on his Account."

• On his Account?' anfwered the Lady: You must have mistaken me; I went no farther than his Drefs ;-for I would not injure your Taste by any other Comparifon I don't imagine, my dear Sophy, Mr. Jones had been fuch a Fellow

• if
as this

your

I thought,' fays Sophia, your Ládyfhip had allowed him to be hand• fome.

'Whom, pray?' cried the Lady, haftily.

Mr. Jones,' anfwered Sophia; ---and immediately recollecting herself, • Mr. Jones!-no, no; I ask your Pardon ;-I mean the Gentleman who was just now • here.'

་

"O Sophy! Sophy cries the Lady; < this Mr. Jones, I am afraid, ftill runs in your • Head.'

Then upon my Honour, Madam,'
Mr. Jones is as entirely in-

faid Sophia,

F 5

different

different to me, as the Gentleman who juft now left us.'

Upon my Honour, faid Lady Bellafton, I believe it. Forgive me, therefore, a little innocent Raillery; but I promife you I will never mention his Name any more.'

And now the two Ladies feparated, infinitely more to the Delight of Sophia, than of Lady Bellafton, who would willingly have tormented her Rival a little longer, had not Business of more Importance called her away. As for Sephia, her Mind was not perfectly eafy under this firft Practice of Deceit; upon which, when the retired to her Chamber, fhe reflected with the highest Uneafinefs and confcious Shame. Nor could the peculiar Hardship of her Situation, and the Neceffity of the Cafe, at all reconcile her Conduct to her Mind; the Frame of which was too delicate to bear the Thought of having been guilty of a Falfhood, however qualified by Circumftances. Nor did this Thought once fuffer her to close her Eyes during the whole fucceeding Night.

THE

THE

HISTORY

OF A

FOUNDLING.

BOOK XIV.

Containing two Days.

CHAP. I.

An Effay to prove that an Author will write the better, for having fome Knowledge of the Subject on which he writes.

A

S feveral Gentlemen in thefe Times, by the wonderful Force of Genius only, without the leaft Affiftance of Learning, perhaps, without being well able to read, have made a confiderable Fi

F 6

gure

gure in the Republic of Letters; the modern Critics, I am told, have lately begun to affert, that all kind of Learning is entirely useless to a Writer; and, indeed, no other than a kind of Fetters on the natural Spritelinefs and Activity of the Imagination, which is thus weighed down, and prevented from foaring to thofe high Flights which otherwise it would be able to reach.

This Doctrine, I am afraid, is, at prefent, carried much too far: For why should Writing differ fo much from all other Arts? The Nimbleness of a Dancing-Mafter is not at all prejudiced by being taught to move; nor doth any Mechanic, I believe, exercife his Tools the worfe by knowing how to use them. For my own Part, I cannot conceive that Homer or Virgil would have writ with more Fire, if, instead of being Masters of all the Learning of their Times, they had really been as ignorant as most of the Authors of the prefent Age. Nor do I believe that all the Imagination, Fire, and Judgment of Pitt could have produced thofe Orations that have made the Senate of England in thefe our Times a Rival in Eloquence to Greece and Rome, if he had not been fo well read in the Writings of Demosthenes and Cicero, as to have transfufed their whole Spirit into his

Speeches,