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accidentally heard, that a young fellow was going from the justice's house to the very inn where the stage-coach, in which Joseph was, put up. Upon this news she immediately sent for the parson out of the parlour. Adams, when he found her resolute to go, (though she would not own the reason, but pretended she could not bear to see the faces of those who had suspected her of such a crime) was fully determined to go with her; he accordingly took leave of the justice and company, and so ended a dispute in which the law seemed shamefully to intend to set a magistrate and a divine together by the ears.

CHAP. XII.

A very delightful adventure, as well to the persons concerned, as to the good-natured reader.

ADAMS, Fanny, and the guide set out together, about one in the morning, the moon being then just risen. They had not gone above a mile before a most violent storm of rain obliged them to take shelter in an inn, or rather alehouse; where Adams immediately procured himself a good fire, a toast and ale, and a pipe, and began to smoke with great content, utterly forgetting every thing that had happened.

Fanny sat likewise down by the fire, but was much more impatient at the storm. She presently engaged the eyes of the host, his wife, the maid of the house, and the young fellow who was their guide; they all conceived they had never seen any thing half so handsome: and indeed, reader, if thou art of an amorous hue, I advise you to skip over the next paragraph; which, to render our history perfect, we are obliged to set down, humbly hoping that we may escape the fate of Pygmalion: for if it should happen to us or to thee to be struck with this picture, we should be perhaps in as helpless a condition as Narcissus, and might say to ourselves, Quod petis est nusquam. Or, if the finest features in it should set Lady· 's image before our eyes, we should be still in as bad a situation, and might say to our desires, Cœlum ipsum petimus stultitia.

Fanny was now in the nineteenth year of her age; she was tall and delicately shaped; but not one of those slender young women, who seem rather intended to hang up in the hall of an anatomist than for any other purpose. On the contrary, she was so plump, that she seemed bursting through her tight stays, especially in the part which confined her swelling breasts. Nor did her hips want the assistance of a hoop to extend them. The exact shape of her arms denoted the form of those limbs which she concealed; and though they were a little reddened by her labour, yet if her sleeve slipt above her

elbow, or her handkerchief discovered any part of her neck, a whiteness appeared which the finest Italian paint would be unable to reach. Her hair was of a chesnut brown, and Nature had been extremely lavish to her of it, which she had cut, and on Sundays used to curl down her neck in the modern fashion. Her forehead was high, her eye-brows arched, and rather full than otherwise. Her eyes black and sparkling; her nose just inclining to the Roman; her lips red and moist, and her under-lip, according to the opinion of the ladies, too pouting. Her teeth were white, but not exactly even. The smallpox had left one only mark on her chin, which was so large, it might have been mistaken for a dimple, had not her left cheek produced one so near a neighbour to it, that the former served only for a foil to the latter. Her complexion was fair, a little injured by the sun, but overspread with such a bloom, that the finest ladies would have exchanged all their white for it: add to these a countenance, in which, though she was extremely bashful, a sensibility appeared almost incredible; and a sweetness, whenever she smiled, beyond either imitation or description. To conclude all, she had a natural gentility, superior to the acquisition of art, and which surprised all who beheld her.

This lovely creature was sitting by the fire with Adams, when her attention was suddenly engaged by a voice from an inner room, which sung the following song.

The SONG.

Say, Chloe, where must the swain stray,
Who is by thy beauties undone,
To wash their remembrance away,

To what distant Lethe must run?
The wretch who is sentenc'd to die,

May escape, and leave justice behind;
From his country perhaps he may fly:
But O can he fly from his mind!

O rapture! unthought of before,
To be thus of Chloe possest;
Nor she, nor no tyrant's hard power,
Her image can tear from my breast.
But felt not Narcissus more joy,

With his eyes he beheld his lov'd charms! Yet what he beheld, the fond boy

More eagerly wish'd in his arms.

How can it thy dear image be,
Which fills thus my bosom with woe?
Can aught bear resemblance to thee,

Which grief and not joy can bestow?
This counterfeit snatch from my heart,

Ye powers, though with torment I rave, Though mortal will prove the fell smart, I then shall find rest in my grave,

Ah! see the dear nymph o'er the plain
Comes smiling and tripping along:
A thousand loves dance in her train;
The graces around her all throng.
To meet her soft Zephyrus flies,

And wafts all the sweets from the flowers! Ah rogue! whilst he kisses her eyes,

More sweets from her breath he devours.

My soul, whilst I gaze, is on fire;

But her looks were so tender and kind, My hope almost reach'd my desire,

And left lame despair jar behind. Transported with madness I flew, And eagerly seiz'd on my bliss ; Her bosom but half she withdrew,

But half she refus'd my fond kiss.

Advances like these made me bold,
I whisper'd her, "Love,-we're alone."
The rest let immortals unfold,

No language can tell but their own, "Ah Chloe," expiring, I cry'd,

"How long I thy cruelty bore?" "Ah! Strephon," she blushing reply'd, "You ne'er was so pressing before."

Adams had been ruminating all this time on a passage in Eschylus, without attending in the least to the voice, though one of the most melodious that ever was heard; when casting his eyes on Fanny, he cried out, "Bless us! you look extremely pale." "Pale! Mr Adams," says she, "O Jesus!" and fell backwards in her chair. Adams jumped up, flung his Eschylus into the fire, and fell a roaring to the people of the house for help. He soon summoned every one into the room, and the songster among the rest: but, O reader, when this nightingale, who was no other than Joseph Andrews himself, saw his beloved Fanny in the situation we have described her, canst thou conceive the agitations of his mind! If thou can'st not, wave that meditation to behold his happiness, when clasping her in his arms, he found life and blood returning to her cheeks; when he saw her open her beloved eyes, and heard her with the softest accent whisper, "Are you Joseph Andrews?" "Art thou my Fanny?" he answered eagerly, and pulling her to his heart, he imprinted numberless kisses on her lips, without considering who were present.

If prudes are offended at the lusciousness of this pieture, they may take their eyes off from it, and survey Parson Adams dancing about the room in a rapture of joy. Some philosophers may perhaps doubt, whether he was not the happiest of the three; for the goodness of his heart enjoyed the blessings which were exulting in the breasts of both the other two, together with his own. But we shall leave such disquisitions, as too deep for us, to those who are building some favourite hypothesis, which

they will refuse no metaphysical rubbish to erect and support for our part, we give it clearly on the side of Joseph, whose happiness was not only greater than the parson's, but of longer duration; for as soon as the first tumults of Adams's rapture were over, he cast his eyes towards the fire, where Eschylus lay expiring, and imme diately rescued the poor remains, to wit, the sheep-skin covering, of his dear friend, which was the work of his own hands, and had been his inseparable companion for upwards of thirty years.

Fanny had no sooner perfectly recovered her. self, than she began to restrain the impetuosity of her transports; and reflecting on what she had done and suffered in the presence of so many, she was immediately covered with confusion, and pushing Joseph gently from her, she begged him to be quiet; nor would admit of either kiss or embrace any longer. Then seeing Mrs Slipslop, she curtsied, and offered to advance to her; but that high woman would not return her curtsies, but casting her eyes another way, immediately withdrew into another room, muttering as she went, she wondered who the creature was.

CHAP. XIII.

A dissertation concerning high people and low people, with Mrs Slipslop's departure in no very good temper of mind, and the evil plight in which she left Adams and his company.

IT will, doubtless, seem extremely odd to many readers, that Mrs Slipslop, who had lived several years in the same house with Fanny, should in a short separation utterly forget her.

And indeed the truth is that she remembered her very well. As we would not willingly, therefore, that any thing should appear unnatural in this our history, we will endeavour to explain the reasons of her conduct: nor do we doubt being able to satisfy the most curious reader, that Mrs Slipslop did not in the least deviate from the common road in this behaviour; and indeed, had she done otherwise, she must have descended below herself, and would have very justly been liable to censure.

Be it known then, that the human species are divided into two sorts of people, to wit, High people and Low people. As by high people I would not be understood to mean persons literally born higher in their dimensions than the rest of the species, nor metaphorically those of exalted characters or abilities; so by low people I cannot be construed to intend the reverse. High people signify no other than people of fashion, and low people those of no fashion, Now, this word fashion hath by long use lost its original meaning, from which at present it gives us a very different idea: for l ́am decci

ved, if by persons of fashion, we do not generally include a conception of birth and accomplishments superior to the herd of mankind; whereas, in reality, nothing more was originally meant by a person of fashion, than a person who dress'd himself in the fashion of the times; and the word really and truly signifies no more at this day. Now, the world being thus divided into people of fashion and people of no fashion, a fierce contention arose between them; nor would those of one party, to avoid suspicion, be seen publicly to speak to those of the other, though they often held a very good correspondence in private. In this contention it is difficult to say what party succeeded: for whilst the people of fashion seized several places to their own use, such as courts, assemblies, operas, balls, &c. the people of no fashion, besides one royal place, called his Majesty's Bear-garden, have been in constant possession of all hops, fairs, revels, &c. Two places have been agreed to be divided between them, namely, the church and the play-house; where they segregate themselves from each other in a remarkable manner; for as the people of fashion exalt themselves at church over the heads of the people of no fashion, so in the play-house they abase themselves in the same degree under their feet. This distinction I have never met with any one able to account for: it is sufficient, that so far from looking on each other as brethren in the Christian language, they seem scarce to regard each other as of the same species. This the terms, "strange persons; people one does not know; the creature; wretches, beasts, brutes,” and many other appellations, evidently demonstrate; which Mrs Slipslop having of ten heard her mistress use, thought she had also a right to use in her turn: and perhaps she was not mistaken; for these two parties, especially these bordering nearly on each other, to wit, the lowest of the high, and the highest of the low, often change their parties according to place and time: for those who are people of fashion in one place, are often people of no fashion in another. And with regard to time, it may not be unpleasant to survey the picture of dependence like a kind of ladder; as for instance, early in the morning arises the postillion, or some other boy, which great families no more than great ships are without, and falls to brushing the clothes, and cleaning the shoes of John the footman, who being dress'd himself, applies his hand to the same labours for Mr Secondhand, the Squire's gentleman; the gentleman, in the like manner, a little later in the day, attends the Squire; the Squire is no sooner equipped than he attends the levee of my Lord; which is no sooner over than my Lord himself is seen at the levee of the favourite; who, after the hour of homage is at an end, appears himself to pay homage at the levee of his sovereign. Nor is there, perhaps, in

this whole ladder of dependence, any one step at a greater distance from the other than the first from the second: so that to a philosopher the question might only seem, whether you would chuse to be a great man at six in the morning, or at two in the afternoon? And yet there are scarce two of these, who do not think the least familiarity with the persons below them a condescension, and if they were to go one step farther, a degradation.

And now, reader, I hope thou wilt pardon this long digression, which seemed to me necessary to vindicate the great character of Mrs Slipslop, from what low people, who have never seen high people, might think an absurdity: but we who know them must have daily found very high persons know us in one place, and not in another; to-day, and not to-morrow : all which it is difficult to account for, otherwise than I have here endeavoured; and perhaps, if the gods, according to the opinion of some, made men only to laugh at them, there is no part of our behaviour which answers the end of our creation better than this.

But to return to our history. Adams, who knew no more of this than the cat which sat on the table, imagining Mrs Slipslop's memory had been much worse than it really was, followed her into the next room, crying out, "Madam Slipslop, here is one of your old acquaintance; do but see what a fine woman she is grown since she left Lady Booby's service." "I think I reflect something of her," answered she with great dignity, "but I can't remember all the inferior servants in our family." She then proceeded to satisfy Adams's curiosity, by telling him, “when she arrived at the inn, she found a chaise ready for her; that her lady being expected very shortly in the country, she was obliged to make the utmost haste, and in commensuration of Joseph's lameness, she had taken him with her; and lastly, that the excessive virulence of the storm had driven them into the house where he found them." After which she acquainted Adams with his having left his horse, and expressed some wonder at his having strayed so far out of his way, and at meeting him, as she said, " in the company of that wench, who, she feared, was no better than she should be."

The horse was no sooner put into Adams's head, but he was immediately driven out of it by this reflection on the character of Fanny. He protested, he believed there was not a chaster damsel in the universe. "I heartily wish, I heartily wish," cried he, (snapping his fingers) "that all her betters were as good." He then proceeded to inform her of the accident of their meeting; but when he came to mention the circumstance of delivering her from the rape, she said, she thought him properer for the army than the clergy; that it did not become a clergyman to lay violent hands on any one; that he should have rather prayed that she might be

strengthened. Adams said, he was very far from being ashamed of what he had done: she replied, "Want of shame was not the currycuristic of a clergyman." This dialogue might have probably grown warmer, had not Joseph opportunely entered the room, to ask leave of Madam Slipslop to introduce Fanny: but she positively refused to admit any such trollops; and told him, she would have been burnt before she would have suffered him to get into a chaise with her, if she had once respected him of having his sluts waylaid on the road for him; adding, that Mr Adams acted a very pretty part, and she did not doubt but to see him a bishop. He made the best bow he could, and cried out, " I thank you, madam, for that right reverend appellation, which I shall take all honest means to deserve." "Very honest means," returned she with a sneer, "to bring good people together." At these words Adams took two or three strides across the room, when the coachman came to inform Mrs Slipslop, that the storm was over, and the moon shone very bright. She then sent for Joseph, who was sitting without with his Fanny, and would have had him gone with her; but he peremptorily refused to leave Fanny behind; which threw the good woman into a violent rage. She said, she would inform her lady what doings were carrying on, and did not doubt but she would rid the parish of all such people; and concluded a long speech, full of bitterness and very hard words, with some reflections on the clergy, not decent to repeat. At last, finding Joseph unmoveable, she flung herself into the chaise, casting a look at Fanny as she went, not unlike that which Cleopatra gives Octavia in the play. To say the truth, she was most disagreeably disappointed by the presence of Fanny; she had, from her first seeing Joseph at the inn, conceived hopes of something which might have been accomplished at an alehouse as well as a palace. Indeed, it is probable Mr Adams had rescued more than Fanny from the danger of a rape that evening.

When the chaise had carried off the enraged Slipslop, Adams, Joseph, and Fanny assembled over the fire, where they had a great deal of innocent chat, pretty enough; but as possibly it would not be very entertaining to the reader, we shall hasten to the morning; only observing that none of them went to bed that night. Adams, when he had smoked three pipes, took a comfortable nap in a great chair, and left the lovers, whose eyes were too well employed to permit any

desire of shutting them, to enjoy by themselves, during some hours, a happiness which none of my readers, who have never been in love, are capable of the least conception of, though we had as many tongues as Homer desired to describe it with, and which all true lovers will represent to their own minds without the least assistance from us.

Let it suffice then to say, that Fanny, after a

thousand entreaties, at last gave up her whole soul to Joseph, and almost fainting in his arms, with a sigh infinitely softer and sweeter too than any Arabian breeze, she whispered to his lips, which were then close to hers," O Joseph, you have won me; I will be yours for ever." Joseph having thanked her on his knees, and embraced her with an eagerness which she now almost returned, leapt up in a rapture, and awakened the parson, earnestly begging him, that he would that instant join their hands together. Adams rebuked him for his request, and told him, he would by no means consent to any thing contrary to the forms of the church: that he had no licence, nor indeed would he advise him to obtain one. That the church had prescribed a form, namely the publication of banns, with which all good Christians ought to comply, and to the omission of which he attributed the many miseries which befel great folks in marriage; concluding, "As many as are joined together otherwise than God's word doth allow, are not joined together by God, neither is their matrimony lawful." Fanny agreed with the parson, saying to Joseph with a blush, she assured him she would not consent to any such thing, and that she wondered at his offering it. In which resolution she was comforted and commended by Adams, and Joseph was obliged to wait patiently till after the third publication of the banns, which however he obtained the consent of Fanny, in the presence of Adams, to put in at their arrival.

The sun had now been risen some hours, when Joseph, finding his leg surprisingly recovered, proposed to walk forwards; but when they were all ready to set out, an accident a little retarded them. This was no other than the reckoning, which amounted to seven shillings; no great sum, if we consider the immense quantity of ale which Mr Adams poured in. Indeed they had no objection to the reasonableness of the bill, but many to the probability of paying it; for the fellow who had taken poor Fanny's purse, had unluckily forgot to return it. So that the account stood thus:

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ka, heureka;" which not being understood, he told them in plain English, they need give themselves no trouble, for he had a brother in the parish who would defray the reckoning; and that he would just step to the house and fetch the money, and return to them instantly.

CHAP. XIV.

of such bacon as is now in the stye." Upon which he laid violent hands on Adams, and dragged him into the hog-stye, which was indeed but two steps from his parlour window. They were no sooner arrived there, than he cried out, "Do but handle them; step in, friend; art welcome to handle them whether dost buy or no." At which words, opening the gate, he pushed Adams into the pig-stye, insisting on it, that he should handle them, before he would

An interview between Parson Adams and Parson talk one word with him. Adams, whose natu

Trulliber.

PARSON ADAMS came to the house of Parson Trulliber, whom he found stript into his waistcoat, with an apron on, and a pail in his hand, just come from serving his hogs; for Mr Trulliber was a parson on Sundays, but all the other six might more properly be called a farmer. He occupied a small piece of land of his own, besides which he rented a considerable deal more. His wife milked his cows, managed his dairy, and followed the markets with butter and eggs. The hogs fell chiefly to his care, which he carefully waited on at home, and attended to fairs; on which occasion he was liable to many jokes, his own size being with much ale rendered little inferior to that of the beasts he sold. He was indeed one of the largest men you should see, and could have acted the part of Sir John Falstaff without stuffing. Add to this, that the rotundity of his belly was considerably increased by the shortness of his stature, his shadow ascending very near as far in height when he lay on his back, as when he stood on his legs. His voice was loud and hoarse, and his accent extremely broad; to complete the whole, he had a stateliness in his gait, when he walked, not unlike that of a goose, only he stalked slower.

Mr Trulliber being informed that somebody wanted to speak with him, immediately slipt off his apron, and clothed himself in an old nightgown, being the dress in which he always saw his company at home. His wife, who informed him of Mr Adams's arrival, had made a small mistake; for she had told her husband, she believed here was a man come for some of his hogs. This supposition made Mr Trulliber hasten with the utmost expedition to attend his guest. He no sooner saw Adams, than not in the least doubting the cause of his errand to be what his wife had imagined, he told him, he was come in very good time; that he expected a dealer that very afternoon; and added, they were all pure and fat, and upwards of twenty score apiece. Adams answered, he believed he did not know him. "Yes, yes," cried Trulliber, "I have seen you often at fair; why, we have dealt before now, mun, I warrant you. Yes, yes," cries he, "I remember thy face very well, but won't mention a word more till you have seen them, though I have never sold thee a flitch

ral complaisance was beyond any artificial, was obliged to comply before he was suffered to explain himself; and laying hold on one of their tails, the unruly beast gave such a sudden spring, that he threw poor Adams all along in the mire. Trulliber, instead of assisting him to get up, burst into a laughter, and entering the stye, said to Adams, with some contempt, "Why, dost not know how to handle a hog?" and was going to lay hold of one himself; but Adams, who thought he had carried his complaisance far enough, was no sooner on his legs, than he escaped out of the reach of the animals, and cried out, "Nihil habeo cum porcis: I am a clergyman, sir, and am not come to buy hogs." Trulliber answered, he was sorry for the mistake; but that he must blame his wife; adding, she was a fool, and always committed blunders. He then desired him to walk in and clean himself; that he would only fasten up the stye and follow him. Adams desired leave to dry his great coat, wig and hat by the fire, which Trulliber granted. Mrs Trulliber would have brought him a basin of water to wash his face; but her husband bid her be quiet like a fool as she was, or she would commit more blunders, and then directed Adams to the pump. While Adams was thus employed, Trulliber, conceiving no great respect for the appearance of his guest, fastened the parlour door, and now conducted him into the kitchen; telling him, he believed a cup of drink would do him no harm, and whispered his wife to draw a little of the worst ale. After a short silence, Adams said, "I fancy, sir, you already perceive me to be a clergyman." Ay, ay," cries Trulliber grinning; " I perceive you have some cassock; I will not venture to caale it a whole one." Adams answered, It was indeed none of the best; but he had the misfortune to tear it about ten years ago in passing over a stile. Mrs Trulliber returning with the drink, told her husband, she fancied the gentleman was a traveller, and that he would be glad to eat a bit. Trulliber bid her hold her impertinent tongue ; and asked her, if parsons used to travel without horses? adding, he supposed the gentleman had none, by his having no boots on. "Yes, sir, yes," says Adams, "I have a horse, but I have left him behind me.' "I am glad to hear you have one," says Trulliber; " for I assure you I don't love to see clergymen on foot; it is not

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