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my own son. Indeed, I have considered him as a child sent by fortune to my care. I still remember the innocent, the helpless situation in which I found him: I feel the tender pressure of his little hands at this moment. He was my darling, indeed he was." At which words he ceased, and the tears stood in his eyes.

As the answer which Mrs Miller made may lead us into fresh matters, we will here stop to account for the visible alteration in Mr Allworthy's mind, and the abatement of his anger to Jones. Revolutions of this kind, it is true, do frequently occur in histories and dramatic writers, for no other reason than because the history or play draws to a conclusion, and are justified by authority of authors; yet though we insist upon as much authority as any author whatever, we shall use this power very sparingly, and never but when we are driven to it by necessity, which we do not at present foresee will happen in this work.

on the Black Act; but said, as it was a matter of some nicety, it would be proper to go to counsel. He said, he was to attend counsel presently upon an affair of Mr Western's, and if Mr Allworthy pleased he would lay the case before them. This was agreed to; and then Mrs Miller, opening the door, cried, " I ask pardon, I did not know you had company;" but Mr Allworthy desired her to come in, saying, he had finished his business. Upon which Mr Dowling withdrew, and Mrs Miller introduced Mr Nightingale, the younger, to return thanks for the great kindness done him by Mr Allworthy; but she had scarce patience to let the young gentleman finish his speech, before she interrupted him, saying, "O, sir, Mr Nightingale brings great news about poor Mr Jones. He hath been to see the wounded gentleman, who is out of all danger of death; and, what is more, declares he fell upon poor Mr Jones himself, and beat him. I am sure, sir, you would not have Mr Jones be a coward. If I was a man myself, I am sure, if any man was to strike me, I should draw my sword. Do, pray, my dear, tell Mr Allworthy; tell him all yourself." Nightingale then confirmed what Mrs Miller had said, and concluded with many handsome things of Jones, who was, he said, one of the best-natured fellows in the world, and not in the least inclined to be quarrelsome. Here Nightingale was going to cease, when Mrs Miller again begged him to relate all the many dutiful expres- Containing two Letters in very different styles.

sions he had heard him make use of towards
Mr Allworthy. "To say the utmost good of
Mr Allworthy," cries Nightingale," is doing
no more than strict justice, and can have no me-
rit in it; but indeed I must say, no man can be
more sensible of the obligations he hath to so
good a man than is poor Jones. Indeed, sir, I
am convinced the weight of your displeasure is
the heaviest burden he lies under. He hath of-
ten lamented it to me; and hath as often pro-
tested, in the most soleinn manner, he hath never
been intentionally guilty of any offence towards
you; nay, he hath sworn he would rather die
a thousand deaths than he would have his con-
science upbraid him with one disrespectful, un-
grateful, or undutiful thought towards you.
But I ask pardon, sir; I am afraid I presume
to intermeddle too far in so tender a point."-
"You have spoke no more than what a Chris-
tian ought," cries Mrs Miller." Indeed, Mr
Nightingale," answered Allworthy, "I applaud
your generous friendship, and I wish he may
merit it of you. I confess, I am glad to hear
the report you bring from this unfortunate gen-
tleman; and, if that matter should turn out to
be as you represent it, (and, indeed, I doubt
nothing of what you say,) I may, perhaps, in
time, be brought to think better than lately I
have of this young man; for this good gentle-
woman here, nay, all who know me, can wit-
ness, that I loved him as dearly as if he had been

This alteration, then, in the mind of Mr Allworthy, was occasioned by a letter he had just received from Mr Square, and which we shall give the reader in the beginning of the next chapter.

CHAP. IV.

"MY WORTHY FRIEND,

"I INFORMED you in my last, that I was forbidden the use of the waters, as they were found by experience rather to increase than lessen the symptoms of my distemper. I must now acquaint you with a piece of news, which, I believe, will afflict my friends more than it hath afflicted me. Dr Harrington and Dr Brewster have informed me, that there is no hopes of my recovery.

"I have somewhere read, that the great use of philosophy is to learn to die; I will not, therefore, so far disgrace mine, as to shew any surprise at receiving a lesson which I must be thought to have so long studied. Yet, to say the truth, one page of the Gospel teaches this lesson better than all the volumes of ancient or modern philosophers. The assurance it gives us of another life, is a much stronger support to a good mind, than all the consolations that are drawn from the necessity of nature; the emptiness or satiety of our enjoyments here; or any other topic of those declamations which are sometimes capable of arming our minds with a stubborn patience in bearing the thoughts of death, but never of raising them to a real contempt of it, and much less of making us think it as a real good. I would not here be understood to throw the horrid censure of atheism, or even the absolute denial of immortality, on all

who are called philosophers. Many of that sect, as well ancient as modern, have, from the light of reason, discovered some hopes of a future state; but, in reality, that light was so faint and glimmering, and the hopes were so uncertain and precarious, that it may be justly doubted on which side their belief turned. Plato himself concludes his Phodon with declaring, that his best arguments amount only to raise a probability; and Cicero himself seems rather to profess an inclination to believe, than any actual belief, in the doctrines of immortality. As to myself, to be very sincere with you, I never was much in earnest in this faith, till I was in earnest a Christian.

"You will perhaps wonder at the latter expression; but I assure you it hath not been till very lately that I could, with truth, call myself SO. The pride of philosophy had intoxicated my reason; and the sublimest of all wisdom appeared to me, as it did to the Greeks of old, to be foolishness. God hath, however, been so gracious to shew me my error in time, and to bring me into the way of truth, before I sunk

into utter darkness for ever.

"I find myself beginning to grow weak; I shall, therefore, hasten to the main purpose of

this letter.

"When I reflect on the actions of my past life, I know of nothing which sits heavier on my conscience, than the injustice I have been guilty of to that poor wretch, your adopted son. I have, indeed, not only connived at the villainy of others, but been myself active in injustice towards him. Believe me, my dear friend, when I tell you, on the word of a dying man, he hath been basely injured. As to the principal fact, upon the misrepresentation of which you discarded him, I solemnly assure you he is innocent. When you lay upon your supposed deathbed, he was the only person in the house who testified any real concern; and what happened afterwards arose from the wildness of his joy on your recovery; and, I am sorry to say it, from the baseness of another person-(but it is my desire to justify the innocent, and to accuse none). Believe me, my friend, this young man hath the noblest generosity of heart, the most perfect capacity for friendship, the highest integrity, and indeed every virtue which can ennoble a man. He hath some faults; but among them is not to be numbered the least want of duty or gratitude towards you. On the contrary, I am satisfied, when you dismissed him from your house, his heart bled for you more than for himself.

"Worldly motives were the wicked and base reasons of my concealing this from you so long; to reveal it now, I can have no inducement but the desire of serving the cause of truth, of doing right to the innocent, and of making all the amends in my power for a past offence. I hope

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"SIR,

"I am not at all surprised at hearing from your worthy nephew a fresh instance of the villainy of Mr Square the atheist's young pupil. I shall not wonder at any murders he may commit; and heartily pray that your own blood may not seal up his final commitment to the place of wailing and gnashing of teeth.

"Though you cannot want sufficient calls to repentance for the many unwarrantable weaknesses exemplified in your behaviour to this wretch, so much to the prejudice of your own lawful family, and of your character; I say, though these may sufficiently be supposed to prick and goad your conscience at this season, I should yet be wanting to my duty, if I spared to give you some admonition in order to bring you to a due sense of your errors. I therefore pray you seriously to consider the judgmert which is likely to overtake this wicked villain; and let it serve at least as a warning to you, that you may not for the future despise the advice of one who is so indefatigable in his prayers for your welfare.

"Had not my hand been with-held from due correction, I had scourged much of this diabolical spirit out of a boy, of whom, from his infancy, I discovered the devil had taken such entire possession; but reflections of this kind now come too late.

"I am sorry you have given away the living of Westerton so hastily. I should have applied on that occasion earlier, had I thought you would not have acquainted me previous to the disposition. Your objection to pluralities is being righteous over-much; if there were any crime in the practice, so many godly men would not agree to it. If the vicar of Aldergrove should die, (as we hear he is in a declining way,) I hope you will think of me; since I am certain you must be convinced of my most sincere attachment to your highest welfare; a welfare to which all worldly considerations are as trifling

as the small tithes mentioned in Scripture are, when compared to the weighty matters of the law.

"I am, SIR,

"Your faithful humble servant,
"ROGER THWACKUM."

This was the first time Thwackum ever wrote in this authoritative style to Mr Allworthy, and of this he had afterwards sufficient reason to repent, as in the case of those who mistake the highest degree of goodness for the lowest degree of weakness. Allworthy had indeed never liked this man. He knew him to be proud and illnatured; he also knew that his divinity itself was tinctured with his temper, and such as in many respects he himself did by no means approve; but he was at the same time an excellent scholar, and most indefatigable in teaching the two lads. Add to this, the strict severity of his life and manners, an unimpeached honesty, and a most devout attachment to religion. So that, upon the whole, though Allworthy did not esteem nor love the man, yet he could never bring himself to part with a tutor to the boys, who was, both by learning and industry, extremely well qualified for his office; and he hoped, that as they were bred up in his own house, and under his own eye, he should be able to correct whatever was wrong in Thwackum's instructions.

CHAP. V.

In which the History is continued.

MR ALLWORTHY, in his last speech, had recollected some tender ideas concerning Jones, which had brought tears into the good man's eyes. This Mrs Miller observing, said, "Yes, yes, sir, your goodness to this poor young man is known, notwithstanding all your care to conceal it; but there is not a single syllable of truth in what those villains said. Mr Nightingale hath now discovered the whole matter. It seems these fellows were employed by a lord, who is a rival of poor Mr Jones, to have pressed him on board a ship. I assure them, I don't know who they will press next. Mr Nightingale here hath seen the officer himself, who is a very pretty gentleman, and hath told him all, and is very sorry for what he undertook, which he would never have done, had he known Mr Jones to have been a gentleman; but he was told that he was a common strolling vagabond."

Allworthy stared at all this, and declared he was a stranger to every word she said. "Yes, sir," answered she, "I believe you are. It is a very different story, I believe, from what those fellows told the lawyer."

"What lawyer, madam? what is it you mean?" said Allworthy.-" Nay, nay," said

she, "this is so like you to deny your own goodness; but Mr Nightingale here saw him.""Saw whom, madam ?" answered he." Why, your lawyer, sir," said she," that you so kindly sent to inquire into the affair."-" I am still in the dark, upon my honour," said Allworthy.

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"Why, then, do you tell him, my dear sir,' cried she." Indeed, sir," said Nightingale, "I did see that very lawyer, who went from you when I came into the room, at an alehouse at Aldersgate, in company with two of the fellows who were employed by Lord Fellamar to press Mr Jones, and who were by that means present at the unhappy rencounter between him and Mr Fitzpatrick.' I own, sir," said Mrs Miller, "when I saw this gentleman come into the room to you, I told Mr Nightingale that I apprehended you had sent him thither to enquire into the affair." Allworthy shewed marks of astonishment in his countenance at this news, and was indeed for two or three minutes struck dumb by it. At last, addressing himself to Mr Nightingale, he said, "I must confess myself, sir, more surprised at what you tell me, than Í have ever been before at any thing in my whole life. Are you certain this was the gentleman?" I am most certain," answered Nightingale. "At Aldersgate?" cries Allworthy. "And was you in company with this lawyer and the two fellows?"-" I was, sir," said the other,

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very near half an hour."-" Well, sir," said Allworthy," and in what manner did the lawyer behave? did you hear all that past between him and the fellows ?"-" No, sir," answered Nightingale," they had been together before I came. In my presence the lawyer said little; but after I had several times examined the fellows, who persisted in a story directly contrary to what I had heard from Mr Jones, and which I find by Mr Fitzpatrick was a rank falsehood, the lawyer then desired the fellows to say nothing but what was the truth, and seemed to speak so much in favour of Mr Jones, that when I saw the same person with you, I concluded your goodness had prompted you to send him thither."-" And did you not send him thither?" says Mrs Miller." Indeed I did not," answered Allworthy; "nor did I know he had gone on such an errand till this moment."-" I see it all!" said Mrs Miller; "upon my soul, I see it all! No wonder they have been closeted so close lately. Son Nightingale, let me beg you run for these fellows immediately-find them out if they are above ground. I will go myself."

"Dear madam," said Allworthy, "be patient, and do me the favour to send a servant up stairs to call Mr Dowling hither, if he be in the house, or, if not, Mr Blifil." Mrs Miller went out muttering something to herself, and presently returned with an answer, that Mr Dowling was gone; but that the t'other, as she called him, was coming.

Allworthy was of a cooler disposition than the

good woman, whose spirits were all up in arms in the cause of her friend. He was not, however, without some suspicions which were near akin to hers. When Blifil came into the room, he asked him with a very serious countenance, and with a less friendly look than he had ever before given him, whether he knew any thing of Mr Dowling's having seen any of the persons who were present at the duel between Jones and another gentleman?

There is nothing so dangerous as a question which comes by surprise on a man, whose business it is to conceal truth, or to defend falsehood. For which reason those worthy personages, whose noble office it is to save the lives of their fellow-creatures at the Old-Bailey, take the utmost care, by frequent previous examination, to divine every question which may be asked their clients on the day of trial, that they may be supplied with proper and ready answers, which the most fertile invention cannot supply in an instant. Besides, the sudden and violent impulse on the blood, occasioned by these surprises, causes frequently such an alteration in the countenance, that the man is obliged to give evidence against himself. And such, indeed, were the alterations which the countenance of Blifil underwent from this sudden question, that we can scarce blame the eagerness of Mrs Miller, who immediately cried out, "Guilty, upon my honour! guilty, upon my soul!"

Mr Allworthy sharply rebuked her for this impetuosity; and then turning to Blifil, who seemed sinking into the earth, he said, "Why do you hesitate, sir, at giving me an answer? You certainly must have employed him; for he would not, of his own accord, I believe, have undertaken such an errand, and especially without acquainting me."

Blifil then answered, "I own, sir, I have been guilty of an offence, yet may I hope your pardon.". "My pardon!" said Allworthy very angrily." Nay, sir," answered Blifil, "I knew you would be offended; yet surely my dear uncle will forgive the effects of the most amiable of human weaknesses. Compassion for those who do not deserve it, I own, is a crime; and yet it is a crime from which you yourself are not entirely free. I know I have been guilty of it in more than one instance to this very person; and I will own I did send Mr Dowling, not on a vain and fruitless enquiry, but to discover the witnesses, and to endeavour to soften their evidence. This, sir, is the truth; which, though I intended to conceal from you, I will not deny." "I confess," said Nightingale, "this is the light in which it appeared to me from the gentleman's behaviour."

"Now, madam," said Allworthy, "I believe you will, once in your life, own you have entertained a wrong suspicion, and are not so angry with my nephew as you was.'

Mrs Miller was silent; for though she could not so hastily be pleased with Blifil, whom she looked upon to have been the ruin of Jones, yet in this particular instance he had imposed upon her as well as upon the rest; so entirely had the devil stood his friend. And, indeed, I look upon the vulgar observation, "That the devil often deserts his friends, and leaves them in the lurch," to be a great abuse on that gentleman's character. Perhaps he may sometimes desert those who are only his cup acquaintance, or who, at most, are but half his; but he generally stands by those who are thoroughly his servants, and helps them off in all extremities, till their bargain expires.

As a conquered rebellion strengthens a government, or as health is more perfectly established by recovery from some diseases; so anger, when removed, often gives new life to affection. This was the case of Mr Allworthy; for Blifil having wiped off the greater suspicion, the lesser, which had been raised by Square's letter, sunk of course, and was forgotten; and Thwackum, with whom he was greatly offended, bore alone all the reflections which Square had cast on the enemies of Jones.

As for that young man, the resentment of Mr Allworthy began more and more to abate towards him. He told Blifil, he did not only forgive the extraordinary efforts of his good-nature, but would give him the pleasure of following his example. Then, turning to Mrs Miller, with a smile which would have become an angel, he cried, "What say you, madam; shall we take a hackney-coach, and all of us together pay a visit to your friend? I promise you it is not the first visit I have made in a prison."

Every reader, I believe, will be able to answer for the worthy woman; but they must have a great deal of good-nature, and be well acquainted with friendship, who can feel what she felt on this occasion. Few, I hope, are capable of feeling what now past in the mind of Blifil; but those who are, will acknowledge, that it was impossible for him to raise any objection to this visit. Fortune, however, or the gentleman lately mentioned above, stood his friend, and prevented his undergoing so great a shock; for at the very instant when the coach was sent for, Partridge arrived, and, having called Mrs Miller from the company, acquainted her with the dreadful accident lately come to light, and, hearing Mr Allworthy's intention, begged her to find some means of stopping him; "For," says he, "the matter must at all hazards be kept a secret from him; and if he should now go, he will find Mr Jones and his mother, who arrived just as I left him, lamenting over one another the horrid crime they have ignorantly committed."

The poor woman, who was almost deprived of her senses at this dreadful news, was never

less capable of invention than at present. However, as women are much readier at this than men, she bethought herself of an excuse, and returning to Allworthy, said, "I am sure, sir, you will be surprised at hearing any objection from me to the kind proposal you just now made; and yet I am afraid of the consequence of it, if carried immediately into execution. You must imagine, sir, that all the calamities which have lately befallen this poor young fellow, must have thrown him into the lowest dejection of spirits and now, sir, should we all on a sudden fling him into such a violent fit of joy, as I know your presence will occasion, it may, I am afraid, produce some fatal mischief, especially as his servant, who is without, tells me he is very far from being well."

"Is his servant without?" cries Allworthy, "pray call him hither. I will ask him some questions concerning his master."

Partridge was at first afraid to appear before Mr Allworthy, but was at length persuaded, after Mrs Miller, who had often heard his whole story from his own mouth, had promised to introduce him.

Allworthy recollected Partridge the moment he came into the room, though many years had passed since he had seen him. Mrs Miller there fore might have spared here a formal oration, in which indeed she was something prolix; for the reader, I believe, may have observed already that the good woman, among other things, had a tongue always ready for the service of her friends. "And are you," said Allworthy to Partridge, "the servant of Mr Jones ?"-" I can't say, sir," answered he, "that I am regularly a servant, but I live with him, an't please your honour, at present. Non sum qualis eram, as your honour very well knows."

Mr Allworthy then asked him many questions concerning Jones, as to his health, and other matters; to all which Partridge answered, without having the least regard to what was, but considered only what he would have things appear; for a strict adherence to truth was not among the articles of this honest fellow's morality, or his religion.

During this dialogue Mr Nightingale took his leave, and presently after Mrs Miller left the room, when Allworthy likewise dispatched Blifil; for he imagined that Partridge, when alone with him, would be more explicit than before company. They were no sooner left in private together, than Allworthy began as in the following chapter.

CHAP. VI.

In which the History is farther continued.

"SURE, friend," said the good man, "you are the strangest of all human beings; not only to have suffered as you have formerly, for obstinately persisting in a falsehood, but to persist in it thus to the last, and to pass thus upon the world for the servant of your own son. What interest can you have in all this? what can be your motive"

"I see, sir," said Partridge, falling down upon his knees, "that your honour is prepos sessed against me, and resolved not to believe any thing I say; and therefore what signifies my protestations? but yet there is One above, who knows that I am not the father of this young

man.

"

"How !" said Allworthy, "will you yet deny what you was formerly convicted of upon such unanswerable, such manifest evidence? Nay, what a confirmation is your being now found with this very man, of all which twenty years ago appeared against you! I thought you had left the country; nay, I thought you had long since been dead. In what manner did you know any thing of this young man? Where did you meet with him, unless you had kept some correspondence together? Do not deny this; for I promise you it will greatly raise your son in my opinion, to find that he hath such a sense of filial duty, as privately to support his father for so many years."

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If your honour will have patience to hear me," said Partridge, "I will tell you all.”—Being bid to go on, he proceeded thus: "When your honour conceived that displeasure against me, it ended in my ruin soon after; for I lost my little school, and the minister, thinking, I suppose, it would be agreeable to your honour, turned me out from the office of clerk, so that I had nothing to trust to but the barber's shop, which, in a country-place like that, is a poor livelihood; and when my wife died, (for till that time I had received a pension of 121. a-year from an unknown hand, which, indeed, I believe was your honour's own, for nobody that ever I heard of doth these things besides); but as I was saying, when she died, this pension forsook me; so that now, as I owed two or three small debts, which began to be troublesome to me, particularly one, which an attorney brought

This is a fact which I knew happened to a poor clergyman in Dorsetshire, by the villainy of an attorney, who, not contented with the exorbitant costs to which the poor man was put by a single action, brought afterwards another action on the judgment, as it was called. A method frequently used to oppress the poor, and bring money into the pockets of attorneys, to the great scandal of the law, of the nation, of Christianity, and even of human nature itself.

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