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THE
HISTORY OF AMELIA.
HENRY FIELDING, ESQ.
ILLUSTRATION SBY GEORGE CRUIKSHANK.
Felices ter et amplius,
Quos irrupta tenet copula ! — Hor.
TvvaiKoi ovSev XP*^I^^ ^'^^P ^'?''^£'''fltt
'EadXrjs ayLtLvov, ovbl piyiov KaKjjS-
NEW-YORK:
HARPER & BROTHERS, 82 CLIFF-STREET.
18 37.
ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
1. Blear-eyed Moll.— Frontispiece.
2. Amelia's unexpected visit 141
3. Masquerade scene 400
4. The Doctor seizing Lawyer Murphy 509
^/.
9f3
i^r]
RALPH ALLEN, ESQ.
Sir,
The following book is sincerely designed to promote the cause
of virtue, and to expose some of the most glaring evils, as well
public as private, which at present infest the country ; though
there is scarce, as I remember, a single stroke of satire aimed at
any one person throughout the whole.
The best man is the properest patron of such an attempt ; this,
I believe, will be readily granted: nor will the public voice, I
think, be more divided, to whom^they shall give that appellation.
Should a letter, indeed, be thus inscribed, Deiur Optimo, there
are few persons who would think it wanted any other direction.
I will not trouble you with a preface concerning the work, nor
endeavour to obviate any criticisms which can be made on it.
The good-natured reader, if his heart should be here affected, will
be inclined to pardon many faults for the pleasure he will receive
from a tender sensation ; and for readers of a different stamp, the
more faults they can discover, the more, I am convinced, they
will be pleased.
Nor will I assume the fulsome style of common dedicators : I
have not their usual design in this epistle, nor will I borrow their
language. Long, very long may it be, before a most dreadful cir-
cumstance shall make it possible for any pen to draw a just and
true character of yourself, without incurring a suspicion of flattery
in the bosoms of the malignant. This task, therefore, I shall de-
fer till that day, (if I should be so unfortunate as ever to see it,)
when every good man shall pay a tear for the satisfaction of his
A 2
34
IV DEDICATION.
curiosity ; a day which, at present, I behave, there is but one
good man in the world who can think of it with unconcern.
Accept, then, sir, this small token of that love, that gratitude,
and that respect, with which I shall always esteem it my greatest
honour to be, sir, your most obliged and most obedient humble
servant,
Henry Fielding.
Bow-street, Dec. 12, 1751.
THE
HISTORY OF AMELIA.
BOOK I.
Chapter I. — Contains the exordium, &c.
The various accidents which befel a very worthy
couple after their uniting in the state of matrimony, will
be the subject of the following history. The distresses
which they waded through were some of them so exqui-
site, and the incidents which produced these so extraor-
dinary, that they seemed to require, not only the ut-
most mahce, but the utmost invention which superstition
has ever attributed to Fortune : though, whether any
such being interfered in the case, or, indeed, whether
there be any such being in the universe, is a matter
which I by no means presume to determine in the affirm-
ative. To speak a bold truth, I am, after much ma-
ture deliberation, inclined to suspect that the public voice
has in all ages done much injustice to Fortune, and has
convicted her of many facts in which she had not the
least concern. I question much whether we may not,
by natural means, account for the success of knaves, the
calamities of fools, with all the miseries in which men
of sense sometimes involve themselves, by quitting the
directions of prudence, and foUowing the bhnd guidance
of a predominant passion ; in short, for all the ordinary
phenomena which are imputed to Fortune, whom, per-
haps, men accuse with no less absurdity in life than a
bad player complains of ill luck at the game of chess.
1 But if men are sometimes guilty of laying improper
blame on this imaginary being, they are altogether as
apt to make her amends, by ascribing to her honours
1*
6 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA,
which she as little deserves. To retrieve the ill conse-
quences of a foolish conduct, and by struggling manfully
with distress, to subdue it, is one of the noblest efforts
of wisdom and virtue. Whoever, therefore, calls such
a man fortunate, is guilty of no less impropriety in
speech, than he would be who should call the statuary
or the poet fortunate, who carved a Venus, or who wrote
an Iliad.
Life may as properly be called an art as any other ;
and the great incidents in it are no more to be considered
as mere accidents, than the several members of a fine
statue, or a noble poem. The critics in all these are not
content with seeing anything to be great, without know-
ing why and how it c'kme to be so. By examining care-
fully the several gradations which conduce to bring
every model to perfection, we learn truly to know that
science in which the model is formed: as histories of
this kind, therefore, may properly be called models of
human hfe, so, by observing minutely the several inci-
dents which tend to the catastrophe or completion of the
whole, and the minute causes whence those incidents
are produced, we shall best be instructed in this most
useful of all arts, which I call the Art of Life.
Chapter II.— The history sets out,— Observations on the excel-
lency of the English constitution, and curious examinations before
a justice of peace.
On the first of April, in the year , the watchmen
of a certain parish, (I know not particularly which,)
within the liberty of Westminster, brought several per-
sons, whom they had apprehended the preceding night,
before Jonathan Thrasher, Esq., one of the justices of
peace of that liberty.
But here, reader, before we proceed to the trials of
these offenders, we shall, after our usual manner, pre-
mise some things which it may be necessary for thee to
know.
It has been observed, I think, by many, as well as the
celebrated writer of Three Letters, that no human insti-
tution is capable of consummate perfection : an observa-
tion which, perhaps, that writer at least gathered from
discovering some defects in the polity even of this well-
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. '
regulated nation. And, indeed, if there should be any
such defect in a constitution which, my Lord Coke long
aero told us, " the wisdom of all the wise men ni the
w'orld, if they had all met together at one time, could
not have equalled," which some of our wisest men, who
were met together long before, said was too good to be
altered in any particular ; and which, nevertheless, has
been mending ever since, by a very great number of the
said wise men-if, I say, this constitution should be
imperfect, we maybe allowed, I think, to doubt whether
any such faultless model can be found among the insti-
tutions of men. , „ . - ^
It will probably be objected, that the small imperfec-
tions, which I am about to produce, do not lie in the laws
themselves, but in the ill execution of them : but, w th
submission, this appears to me to be no less an absurdity,
than to say of any machine that it is excellently made
though incapable of performing its functions. Good
laws should execute themselves in a well-regulated
state; at least, if the same legis^lature which provides
the laws does not provide for the execution of them
they act as Graham would do, if he should form all the
parts of a clock in the most exquisite maimer, yet put
them so together that the clock could not go. In this
case, surely, we might say that there was a small defect
in the constitution of the clock.
To say the truth, Graham would soon see the fault
and would easily remedy it: the fault, indeed could be
Z other than th'at the parts were i"^F«Pf ^f d>^^P^^,f '^
Perhaps, reader, I have another illustration, which
will set my intention in a still clearer ^ght before you
Figure to yourself, then, a family, the master of wh ch
should dispose of the several economical offices m he
following manner : viz., should put his butler on the
coac™ox, his steward behind his coach his coachman
in the butlery, and his footman ^\^hefe wardship, and
in the same ridiculous manner should ""semploy the
talents of every other servant ; it is easy to see what a
fiffure such a family must make in the world.
^Ts r diculous as Ls may seem, I have often considered
some of the lower officers in our civil government to be
disposed m this very manner. To begin, I think, as low
as Twell can, with the watchmen in our metropolis
who, being to guard our streets by night from thieves
rnd robbers, al office which at least requires strength
6 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
of body, are chosen out of those poor, old, decreprt
people, who are, from their want of bodily strength,
rendered incapable of getting a livelihood by work.
These men, armed only with a pole, which some of them
are scarce able to lift, are to secure the persons and
houses of his majesty's subjects from the attacks of
gangs of young, bold, stout, desperate, and well-armed
villains : —
Quae non viribus istis
Munera conveniunt.
If the poor old fellows should run away from such ene-
mies, no one, I think, can wonder, unless it be that they
were able to make their escape.
The higher we proceed among our public officers and
magistrates, the less defects of this kind will, perhaps, be
observable. Mr. Thrasher, however, the justice before
whom the prisoners above mentioned were now brought,
had some few imperfections in his magistratical capacity.
I own, I have been sometimes inclined to think, that this
office of a justice of peace requires some knowledge of
the law, for this simple reason : because, in every case
which comes before him, he is to judge and act accord-
ing to law. Again, as these laws are contained in a
great variety of books, (the statutes which relate to the
office of a justice of peace making of themselves at least
two large volumes in folio, and that part of his jurisdic-
tion which is founded on the common law being dis-
persed in above a hundred volumes,) I cannot conceive
how this knowledge should be acquired without reading;
and yet, certain it is, Mr. Thrasher never read one syl-
lable of the matter.
This, perhaps, was a defect ; but this was not all : for
where mere ignorance is to decide a point between two
litigants, it will always be an even chance whether it de-
cides right or wrong; but sorry am I to say, right was
often in a much worse situation than this, and wrong
has often had five hundred to one on his side before that
magistrate ; who, if he was ignorant of the laws of Eng-
land, was yet well versed in the laws of nature. He
perfectly well understood that fundamental principle, so
strongly laid down in the institutes of the learned Roche-
foucault, by which the duty of self-love is so strongly
enforced, and every man is taught to consider himself
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 9
as the centre of gravity, and to attract all things thither.
To speak the truth plainly, the justice was never in-
diiferent in a cause, but when he could get nothing on
either side.
Such was the justice to whose tremendous bar Mr.
Gotobed the constable, on the day above mentioned,
brought several delinquents, who, as we have said, had
been apprehended by the watch for divers outrages.
The first who came upon this trial was as bloody a
spectre as ever the imagination of a murderer or a tragic
poet conceived. This poor wretch was charged with a
battery by a much stouter man than himself; indeed,
the accused person bore about him some evidence that
he had been in an affray, his clothes being very bloody ;
but certain open sluices in his own head sufl!iciently
showed whence all the scarlet stream had issued, whereas
the accuser had not the least mark or appearance of any
wound. The justice asked the defendant what he meant
by breaking the king's peace] to which he answered,
" Upon my shoul I do love the king very well, and I have
not been after breaking anything of his that I do know ;
but upon my shoul this man has brake my head, and my
head did brake his stick ; that is all, gra." He then
offered to produce several witnesses against this improb-
able accusation ; but the justice presently interrupted
him, saying, " Sirrah, your tongue betrays your guilt ;
you are an Irishman, and that is always sufficient evi-
dence with me."
The second criminal was a poor woman, who was
taken ^1) by the watch as a streetwalker. It was
alleged against her, that she was found walking the
streets after twelve o'clock, and the watchman declared
he believed her to be a common strumpet. She pleaded
in her defence (as was really the truth) that she was a
servant, and was sent by her mistress, who was a little
shopkeeper, and upon the point of delivery, to fetch a
midwife ; which she offered to prove by several of the
neighbours, if she was allowed to send for them. The
justice then asked her why she had not done it before ;
to which she answered, she had no money, and could
get no messenger. The justice then called her several
scurrilous names ; and, declaring she was guilty, within
the statute of streetwalking, ordered her to Bridewell
for a month.
A genteel young man and woman were then set for-
A3
10 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
ward, and a very grave-looking person swore he caught
them in a situation which we cannot as particularly
describe here as he did before the magistrate, who, hav-
ing received a wink from his clerk, declared, with much
warmth, that the fact was incredible and impossible.
He presently discharged the accused parties, and was
going, without any evidence, to commit the accuser for
perjury; but this the clerk dissuaded him from, saying,
he doubted whether a justice of peace had any such
power. The justice at first differed m opinion ; and said,
he had seen a man stand in the pillory about perjury;
nay, he had known a man in jail for it too ; and how
came he there, if he was not committed thither ] " Why
that is true, sir," answered the clerk ; " and yet I have
been told by a very great lawyer, that a man cannot be
committed for perjury before he is endicted ; and the
reason is, I believe, because it is not against the peace
before the endictment makes it so." " Why that may
be," cries the justice ; " and indeed perjury is but scan-
dalous words, and I know a man cannot have a warrant
for those, unless you put for rioting* them into the
warrant."
The witness was now about to be discharged, when
the lady whom he had accused declared slie would
swear the peace against him ; for that he had called her
a whore several times. " Oho ! you will swear the
peace, madam, will you"?" cries the justice ; " give her
the peace, presently ; and pray, Mr. Constable^ secure
the prisoner, now we have him, while a v>arrant is
made to take him up." All which was immediately per-
formed, and the poor witness, for want of sureties, was
sent to prison.
A young fellow, whose name was Booth, was now
charged W4th beating a watchman in the execution of
his office, and breaking his lantern. This was deposed
* Opus est interprete. By the laws of England, abusive words are
not punishable by the magistrate ; some commissioners of the peace,
therefore, when one scold has applied to them for a warrant against an-
other, from too eager a desire of doing justice, have construed a little
harmless scolding into a riot; which is, in law, an outrageous breach
of the peace committed by several persons, by three at least, nor can
a less number be convicted of it. Under this word rioting, or riotthig,
(for I have seen it spelled both ways,) thousands of old women have
been arrested and put to expense, sometimes in prison, for a little in-
temperate use of their tongues. This practice began to decrease in
the year 1749.
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
lantern, which had been ong pr ^^ ^ ^^^ g^i.
it. tesumony were P-^ ' "f^^Ve cnnunal to be but
dence. Ihe justice, VJ'^'- s jj j, m without
shabbily dressed, was going t<"^«j"' ^th, however, at
asking any further ^^^'""^^.^.Vd, the worthy magis-
the earnest request of 'hejiccuseQ, m y
trate submitted to hear ^is de ence_ Ihe yo g
then alleged, as was m reaUty the ease, Uiat_a^^ ._^ ^^^
walking •'X'hertit a thfrd?u'pon which he had stopped
street cruelly beating a ':";™' / ^ho was so une-
and endeavoured ^ a^^'lV^^.tif:!'^: up during the af-
qually attacked ; '^at the watcii ca n y ^^^^
fray, and took them aU f^"! ° ndhouse where the two
immediately .f "'«Vho anpear" d to be "Ten of fortune,
original assailants, who appeareao j^.^harged
found means ^ make "P *e ma ter, a ^^^ ^ ^^
r^yrht^poek^t ~
^Sv^ S&Xf h^ ^r ^rJ his liberty at the
price of half a crown. nffender can never be
P Though the bare word 0 an offendeic^^^^^ ^^^^^^^
taken against the °a''^«'''^/'"ddeivered with such
"' '*■" :!f L"urhTaV:iS en^ 'hat hat the magistrate
an air of tiuth ana s"jy*;'Y' •. ^ ^ad lie been very
been endued with ^''^^ ^f^^^}l^'Z^^^^ necessary
moderately gitted ^^^,^1^,^^^^^^^^^^ em-
to all who are to '^^''''''^^^^'l'!:^^^^ the watchmen;
P!?^^'rwou^have'Sv n thTd^^ the time he
at least, he wouia nave ^ v , ^ present
desired to send for the o;l^^y^P^^^'^,"'d7d In short, the
l^LtrSTo'ot^f^^X
^^^^ir^erai-eTnf^yr^lne.^
the poor man himself, '""hose defence me
tioned e«lP"\«as engaged His tnal^^^^^ ^^_^^^^_^ ^^^^
Z^'i^ ^^UeCwas^rusU. MS breath was not,
12 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
for against this last wretch he poured forth a great
many vollies of menace and abuse.
The dehnquents were then all despatched to prison,
under a guard of watchmen; and the justice and the
constable adjourned to a neighbouring alehouse to take
their morning repast.
Chapter III. — Containing the inside of a prison.
Mr. Booth (for we shall not trouble you with the
rest) was no sooner arrived in the prison, than a number
of persons gathered round him, all demanding garnish;
to which Mr. Booth not making a ready answer, as
indeed he did not understand the word, some were
going to lay hold of him, when a person of apparent
dignity came up, and insisted that no one should affront
the gentleman. This person then, who was no less
than the master or keeper of the prison, turning towards
Mr. Booth, acquainted him, that it was the custom of
the place for every prisoner, upon his first arrival there,
to give something to the former prisoners to make them
drink. This, he said, was what they called garnish ;
and concluded with advising his new customer to draw
his purse upon the present occasion. Mr. Booth an-
swered, that he would very readily comply with this
laudable custom, was it in his power ; but that in reality
he had not a shilling in his pocket, and, what was worse,
he had not a shilling in the world. " Oho ! if that be
the case," cries the keeper, " it is another matter, and I
have nothing to say." Upon which, he immediately
departed, and left poor Booth to the mercy of his com-
panions, who, without loss of time, applied themselves
to uncasing, as they termed it, and with such dexterity,
that his coat was not only stripped off, but out of sight
in a minute.
Mr. Booth was too weak to resist, and too wise to
complain of this usage. As soon, therefore, as he was
at liberty, and declared free of the place, he summoned
his philosophy, of which he had no inconsiderable share,
to his assistance, and resolved to make himself as easy
as possible under his present circumstances.
Could his own thoughts indeed have suffered him for
a moment to forget where he was, the dispositions of
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 13
the other prisoners might have induced him to believe
that he had been in a happier place ; for much the greater
part of his fellow-sufferers, instead of wailing and repi-
ning at their conditions, were laughing, singing, and di-
verting themselves with various kinds of sports and
gambols.
The first person who accosted him was called Blear-
eyed Moll, a woman of no very comely appearance.
Her eye, (for she had but one,) whence she derived her
nickname, was such as that nickname bespoke : be-
sides which, it had two remarkable qualities ; for first,
as if nature had been careful to provide for her own de-
fect, it constantly looked towards her blind side ; and,
secondly, the ball consisted almost entirely of white, or
rather of yellow, with a little gray spot in the corner,
so small that it was scarce discernible. Nose she had
none; for Venus, envious, perhaps, at her former charms,
had carried off the gristly part ; and some earthly dam-
sel, perhaps, froui the same envy, had levelled the bone
with the rest of her face : indeed, it was far beneath the
bones of her cheeks, which rose proportionally higher
than is usual. About half a dozen ebony teeth forti-
fied that large and long canal which nature had cut from
ear to ear, at the bottom of which was a chin prepos-
terously short, nature having turned up the bottom, in-
stead of suffering it to grow to its due length.
Her body was well adapted to her face ; she meas-
ured full as much round the middle as from head to
foot ; for, besides the extreme breadth of her back, her
vast breasts had long since forsaken their native home,
and had settled themselves a little below the girdle.
I wish certain actresses on the stage, when they are
to perform characters of no amiable cast, would study
to dress themselves with the propriety with which
Blear-eyed Moll was now arrayed. For the sake of our
squeamish reader, we shall not descend to particulars :
let it suffice to say, nothing more ragged or more dirty
was ever emptied out of the roundhouse at St. Giles's.
We have taken the more pains to describe this per-
son, for two remarkable reasons : the one is, that this
unlovely creature was taken in the fact with a very
pretty young fellow ; the other, which is more produc-
tive of moral lesson, is, that however wretched her for-
tune may appear to the reader, she was one of the mer-
riest persons in the whole prison.
2
14 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
er to be repeated here, and was going ?f "^^ ^""^g™
^Zes%°i^rBo^otM=tr™t P;X, J^
3{?r:"Br.-'^xvv^,rut'i;fea"s
pect he was long V ^ ' r j^^j^gj ,„ a
Z^ '^Uh black coat wl?"h would have showed more
^'r, than it did? had not the linen which appeared
I'htugh '? been entirely of the same colour wah the
''This gentleman, whose name was Rf i"^°"'.^<'*f ^^
^LTirri:^o.i^TffpeaT^^^^^
::f -Lfc^uSrlK^traXf ed?^^^^^^^^^
least Dart which distinffuishes a gentleman:' at which
words^he^ast a significant look on his own coat as
The desired they should be applied to himself. He
thpn nroceeded in the following manner:—
"lC-ceive:sir, you are but just arrived in this dis-
mal S which is, indeed, rendered more detestable
";lh'e wretches who inhabit it, than ^Y any mher ci^^^
cumstance ; but, even these a wise man will soon bring
hmself to bear with indifference: for what is, is ; and
wITat must be must be. The knowledge of this which,
SmDlHs it apperrs, is in truth the height of all philos-
onZ renders^a wise man superior to every evil which
can befall him. I hope, sir, no very dreadful accident is
^he cause oryour com ng hither; but whatever it was
you may be assured it could not be otherwise for all
things happen by an inevitable fatality ; and a man can
* A cant term for robbery on the highway.
+ Another cant term for pillering.
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 15
no more resist the impulse of fate, than a wheelbarrow
can the force of its driver."
Besides the obligation which Mr. Robinson had con-
ferred on Mr. Booth in delivering him from the insults of
Blear-eyed Moll, there was something in the manner of
Robinson which, notwithstanding the meanness of his
dress, seemed to distinguish him from the crowd of
wretches who swarmed in those regions ; and, above
ail, the sentiments which he had just declared very
nearly coincided with those of Mr. Booth. This gen-
tleman was what they call a freethinker ; that is to say,
a deist, or, perhaps, an atheist : for though he did not
absolutely deny the existence of a Qod, yet he entirely
denied his providence; a doctrine which, if it is not
downright atheism, has a direct tendency towards it ; and,
as Dr. Clarke observes, may soon be driven into it.
And as to Mr. Booth, though he was in his heart an
extreme wellwisher to religion, (for he was an honest
man,) yet his notions of it were very slight and uncer-
tain. To say the truth, he was in the wavering condi-
tion so finely described by Claudian :—
" Labefacta cadebat
K-eligio, causaeque viam non sponte sequebar
Alterius, vacuo qui currere semina motu
Aflfirmat, magnumque novas per inane figuras
Fortuna, non arte, regi ; quse numina sensu
Ainbiguo, vel nulla putat, vel nescia nostri."
This way of thinking, or rather of doubting, he had
contracted from the same reasons which Claudian as-
signs, and which had induced Brutus, in his latter days,
to doubt the existence of that virtue which he had all
his life cultivated. In short, poor Booth imagined that
a larger share of misfortune had fallen to his lot than
he had merited ; and this led him, who, though a good
classical scholar, was not deeply learned in religious
matters, into a disadvantageous opinion of Providence.
A dangerous way of reasoning, in which our conclusions
are not only too hasty, from an imperfect view of things,
but we are likewise liable to much error from partiality
to ourselves, viewing our virtues and vices as through a
perspective, in which we turn the glass always to our
own advantage, so as to diminish the one, and as greatly
to magnify the other.
From the above reasons, it can be no wonder that Mr.
16 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
Booth did not decline the acquaintance of this person
in a place which could not promise to afford him any-
better. He answered him, therefore, with great courtesy,
as, indeed, he was of a very good and gentle disposition ;
and, after expressing a civil surprise at meeting him
there, declared himself to be of the same opinion with
regard to the necessity of human actions ; adding, how-
ever, that he did not believe men were under any blind
impulse or direction of fate ; but that every man acted
merely from the force of that passion which was upper-
most in his mind, and could do no otherwise.
A discourse now ensued between the two gentlemen,
on the necessity arising from the impulse of fate, and
the necessity arising from the impulse of passion, which,
as it will make a pretty pamphlet of itself, we shall re-
serve for some future opportunity. When this was
ended, they set forward to survey the jail and the pris-
oners, with the several cases of whom Mr. Robinson,
-who had been some time under confinement, undertook
to make Mr. Booth acquainted.
Chapter IV. — Disclosing further secrets of the prison house.
The first persons whom they passed by were three
men in fetters, who were enjoying themselves very
merrily over a bottle of wine and a pipe of tobacco.
These, Mr. Robinson informed his friend, were three
street robbers, and were all certain of being hanged the
ensuing sessions : " so inconsiderable an object," said
he, " is misery to light minds, when it is at any dis-
tance."
A little further they beheld a man prostrate on the
ground, whose heavy groans and frantic actions plainly
indicated the highest disorder of mind. This person
was, it seems, committed for a small felony ; and his
wife, who then lay-in, upon hearing the news, had thrown
herself from a window up two flights of stairs, by which
means he had, in all probability, lost both her and his
child.
A very pretty girl then advanced towards them, whose
beauty Mr. Booth could not help admiring the moment
he saw her; declaring, at the same time, he thought she
had great innocence in her countenance. Robinson
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 17
said she was committed thither as an idle and disorderly
person, and a common streetwalker. As she passed by
Mr. Booth, she discharged a volley of words, every one
of which was too indecent to be repeated.
They now beheld a little creature sitting by herself in
a corner, and crying bitterly. This girl, Mr. Robinson
said, was committed because her father-in-law, who
was in the grenadier guards, had sworn that he was
afraid of his life, or of some bodily harm which she
would do him, and she could get no sureties for keeping
the peace ; for which reason Justice Thrasher had com-
mitted her to prison.
A great noise now arose, occasioned by the prisoners
all flocking to see a fellow whipped for petty larceny, to
which he was condemned by the court of quarter ses-
sions, but this soon ended in the disappointment of the
spectators ; for the fellow, after being stripped, having
advanced another sixpence, was discharged untouched.-
This was immediately followed by another bustle.
Blear-eyed Moll and several of her companions having
got posses.sion of a man who was committed for certain
odious practices, were giving him various kinds of dis-
cipline, and would probably have put an end to him, had
he not been rescued out of their hands by authority.
When this bustle was a little allayed, Mr. Booth took
notice of a young woman in rags sitting on the ground,
and supporting the head of an old man in her lap, who
appeared to be giving up the ghost. These, Mr. Robin-
son informed him, were father and daughter; that the
latter was committed for stealing a loaf, in order to sup-
port the former ; and the former for receiving it, know-
ing it to be stolen.
A well-dressed man then walked surlily by them, whom
Mr. Robinson reported to have been conimitted on an
endictment found against him for a most horrid perjury ;
" but," says he, "we expect him to be bailed to-day,"
" Good Heaven !" cries Booth, " can such villains find
bail, and is no person charitable enough to bail that poor
father and daughter?" "Oh, sir," answered Robinson,
*' the offence of the daughter being felony, is held not
to be bailable in law, whereas perjury is a misdemeanour
only ; and therefore persons who are even endicted for
it are nevertheless capable of being bailed. Nay,
of all perjuries, that of which this man is endicted
is the worst; for it was with the intention of taking
2*
18 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
away the life of an innocent person by form of law.
As to perjuries in civil matters, they are not so very
criminal." "They are not," said Booth; "and yet
even these are a most flagitious oflFence, and worthy
the highest punishment." " Surely they outjht to be dis-
tinguished," answered Robinson, " from the others ; for
Avhat is taking away a little property from a man, com-
pared to taking away his life and his reputation, and
ruining his family into the bargain ? I hope there can
be no comparison in the crimes, and I think there ought
to be none in the punishment. However, at present
the punishment of all perjury is only pillory and trans-
portation for seven years ; and as it is a traversable and
bailable offence, methods are often found to escape any
punishment at all."*
Booth expressed great astonishment at this, when his
attention was suddenly diverted by the most miserable
object he had yet seen. This was a wretch almost
naked, who bore on his countenance, joined to an ap-
pearance of honesty, the marks of poverty, hunger, and
disease : he had, moreover, a wooden leg, and two or
three scars on his forehead. " The case of this poor
man is, indeed, unhappy enough," said Robinson : " he
has served his country, lost his limb, and received several
wounds at the siege of Gibraltar. When he was dis-
charged from the hospital abroad, he came over to get
into that of Chelsea, but could not immediately, as none
of his officers were then in England. In the mean time
he was one day apprehended and committed hither on
suspicion of stealing three herrings from a fishmonger.
He was tried several months ago for this offence, and
acquitted ; indeed, his innocence manifestly appeared at
the trial ; but he was brought back again for his fees,
and here he has lain ever since."
Booth expressed great horror at this account, and de-
clared if he had only so much money in his pocket, he
would pay his fees for him ; but added, that he was not
possessed of a single farthing in the world.
Robinson hesitated a moment, and then said with a
smile, " I am going to make you, sir, a very odd propo-
sal after your last declaration ; but what say you to a
* By removing the endictment by certiorari into the king's bench,
the trial is so long postponed, and the costs are so highly uicreased,
that prosecutors are often tired out, and some incapacitated from
pursuing. Verbum sapieruL
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 19
game at cards 1 it will serve to pass a tedious hour, and
may divert your thoughts from more unpleasant specu-
lations."
I do not imagine Booth would have agreed to this ;
for though some love of gaming had been formerly
among his faults, yet he was not so egregiously addicted
to that vice as to be tempted by the shabby plight of
Robinson, who had, if I may so express myself, no
charms for a gamester. If he had, however, any such
inclinations, he had no opportunity to follow them ; for
before he could make any answer to Robinson's propo-
sal, a strapping wench came up to Booth, and, taking
hold of his arm, asked him to walk aside with her, say-
ing, " What, are you such a fresh cull that you do not
know this fellow 1 why, he is a gambler, and committed
for cheating at play : there is not such a pickpocket in
the whole quod,"*
A scene of altercation now ensued between Robinson
and the lady, which ended in a bout at fisticuffs, in which
the lady was greatly superior to the philosopher.
While the two combatants were engaged, a grave-
looking man, rather better dressed than the majority of
the company, came up to Mr. Booth, and taking him
aside, said, " I am sorry, sir, to see a gentleman, as you
appear to be, in such intimacy with that rascal, who makes
no scruple of disowning all revealed religion; as for
crimes, they are human errors, and signify but little ; nay,
perhaps, the worse a man is by nature, the more room
there is for grace. The spirit is active, and loves best
to inhabit those minds where it may meet with the most
work. Whatever your crime be, therefore, I would not
have you despair, but rather rejoice at it ; for perhaps
it may be the means of your being called." He ran on
for a considerable time with this cant, without waiting
for an answer, and ended in declaring himself a Metho-
dist.
Just as the Methodist had finished his discourse, a
beautiful young woman was ushered into the jail ; she
was genteel and well dressed, and did not in the least
resemble those females whom Mr. Booth had hitherto
seen. The constable had no sooner delivered her at
the gate, than she asked, with a commanding voice, for
the keeper; and, when he arrived, she said to him,
* A cant word for a prison.
20 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
" Well, sir, whither am I to be conducted 1 I hope I am
not to take up my lodging with these creatures." The
keeper answered with a kind of surly respect, " Madam,
we have rooms for those who can afford to pay for
them." At these words she pulled a handsome purse
from her pocket, in which many guineas chinked, say-
ing, with an air of indignation, that she was not come
thither on account of poverty. The keeper no sooner
viewed the purse, than his features became all softened
in an instant ; and, with all the courtesy of which he
was master, he desired the lady to walk with him, as-
suring her that she should have the best apartment in
his house.
Mr. Booth was now left alone ; for the Methodist had
forsaken him, having, as the phrase of the sect is,
searched him to the bottom ; in fact, he had thoroughly
examined every one of Mr. Booth's pockets ; from which
he had conveyed away a penknife and an iron snuffbox,
these being all the moveables which were to be found.
Booth was standing near the gate of the prison when
the young lady above mentioned was introduced into the
yard ; he viewed her features very attentively, and was
persuaded that he knew her ; she was, indeed, so re-
markably handsome, that it was hardly possible for any
who had ever seen her to forget her. He inquired of one
of the under keepers, if the name of the prisoner lately
arrived was not Matthews; to which he was answered,
that her name was not Matthews, but Vincent, and that
she was committed for murder.
The latter part of this information made Mr. Booth
suspect his memory more than the former; for it was
very possible that she might have changed her name ;
but he hardly thought she could so far have changed
her nature as to be guilty of a crime so very incongru-
ous with her former gentle manners ; for Miss Mat-
thews had both the birth and education of a gentlewo-
man. He concluded, therefore, that he was certainly
mistaken, and rested satisfied, without any further in-
quiry.
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 21
Chapter V.— Containing certain adventure swhich befell Mr. Booth
in the prison.
The remainder of the day Mr. Booth spent in melan-
choly contemplation on his present condition. He was
destitute of the common necessaries of life, and conse-
quently unable to subsist where he was ; nor was there
a single person in town to whom he could, with any
reasonable hope, apply for delivery. Grief for some
time banished the thoughts of food from his mind; but
in the morning nature began to grow uneasy for the
want of her usual nourishment, for he had not eaten a
morsel during the last forty hours. A penny loaf, which
is, it seems, the ordinary allowance to the prisoners in
Bridewell, was now delivered him ; and while he was
eating this, a man brought him a little packet, sealed up,
informing him that it came by a messenger, who said it
required no answer.
Mr. Booth now opened his packet, and, after unfold-
ing several pieces of blank paper successively, at last
discovered a guinea, wrapped with great care in the in-
nermost paper. He was vastly surprised at this sight,
as he had few, if any friends, from whom he could
expect such a favour, shght as it was; and not one of
his friends, as he was apprized, knew of his confine-
ment. As there was no direction to the packet, nor a
word of writing contained in it, he began to suspect that
it was delivered to the wrong person ; and, being one
of the most untainted honesty, he found out the man
who gave it to him, and again examined him concerning
the person who brought it, and the message delivered
with it. The man assured Booth that he had made no
mistake ; saying, " If your name is Booth, sir, I am
positive you are the gentleman to whom the parcel I
gave you belongs."
The most scrupulous honesty would, perhaps, in such
a situation, have been well enough satisfied in finding
no owner for the guinea ; especially when proclamation
had been made in the prison, that Mr. Booth had re-
ceived a packet without any direction, to which, if any
person had any claim, and would discover the contents,
he was ready to deliver it to such claimant. No such
22 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
claimant being found (I mean none who knew the con-
tents ; for many swore they expected just such a packet,
and believed it to be their property,) Mr. Booth very
calmly resolved to apply the money to his own use.
The first thing, after redemption of the coat, which
Mr. Booth, hungry as he was, thought of, was to supply
himself with snuft', which he had long, to his great sor-
row, been without. On this occasion, he presently
missed that iron box w^hich the Methodist had so dex-
terously conveyed out of his pocket, as we mentioned
in the last chapter.
He no sooner missed this box, than he immediately
suspected that the gambler was the person who had
stolen it; nay, so well was he assured of this man's
guilt, that it may, perhaps, be improper to say he barely
suspected it. Though Mr. Booth was, as we have
hinted, a man of a very sweet disposition, yet was he
rather overwarm. Having, therefore, no doubt con-
cerning the person of the thief, he eagerly sought him
out, and very bluntly charged him with the fact.
The gambler, whom I think we should now call the
philosopher, received this charge without the least vis-
ible emotion either of mind or muscle. After a short
pause of a few moments, he answered, with great so-
lemnity, as follows : " Young man, 1 am entirely uncon-
cerned at your groundless suspicion. He that censures
a stranger, as I am to you, without any cause, makes a
worse compliment to himself than to the stranger. You
know yourself, friend ; you know not me. It is true,
indeed, you heard me accused of being a cheat and a
gamester; but who is my accuser? Look at my ap-
parel, friend; do thieves and gamesters wear such
clothes as these ? play is my folly, not my vice ; it is
my impulse, and I have been a martyr to it. Would a
gamester have asked another to play when he could
have lost eighteen pence and won nothing ! However,
if you are not satisfied, you may search my pockets -.
the outside of all but one will serve your turn, and in
that one there is the eighteen pence I told you of." He
then turned up his clothes, and his pockets entirely re-
sembled the pitchers of the Belides.
Booth was a little staggered at this defence. He said
the real value of the iron box was too inconsiderable to
mention ; but that he had a capricious value for it, for
the sake of the person who gave it him : " for though it
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 23
is not," said he, " worth sixpence, I would willingly
give a crown to any one who would bring it me again."
Robinson answered, " If that be the case, you have
nothing more to do but to signify your intention in the
prison ; and I am well convinced you will not be long
without regaining the possession of your snuffbox."
This advice was immediately followed, and with suc-
cess, the Methodist presently producing the box, which,
he said, he had found, and should have returned it be-
fore, had he known the person to whom it belonged ;
adding, with uplifted eyes, that the Spirit would not suffer
him knowingly to detain the goods of another, however
inconsiderable the value was. " Why so, friend V said
Robinson : " have I not heard you often say, the wickeder
any man was, the better, provided he was what you call
a believer?" "You mistake me," cries Cooper: (for - 4i*v
that was the name of the Methodist :) " no man can be '■ ^'
wicked after he is possessed by the Spirit. There is a
wide difference between the days of sin and the days of
grace. I have been a sinner myself." " I believe thee,"
cries Robinson, with a sneer. " I care not," answered
the other, " what an atheist believes. I suppose you
would insinuate that I stole the snuffbox ; but I value
not your malice : the'Lord knows my innocence." He
then walked off with the reward ; and Booth, returning
to Robinson, very earnestly asked pardon for his ground-
less suspicion ; which the other, without any hesitation,
accorded him, saying, " You never accused me, sir ; you
suspected some gambler, with whose character 1 have
no concern. I should be angry with a friend or acquain-
tance who should give a hasty credit to any allegation
against me ; but I have no reason to be offended with
you for believing what the woman and the rascal who is
just gone, and who is committed here for a pickpocket,
(which you did not perhaps know,) told you to my dis-
advantage : and, if you thought me to be a gambler, you
had just reason to suspect any ill of me ; for I myself
am confined here by the perjury of one of those villains,
who, having cheated me of my money at play, and hear-
ing that I intended to apply to a magistrate against him,
himself began the attack, and obtained a warrant against
me of Justice Thrasher, who, without hearing one speech
in my defence, committed me to this place."
Booth testified great compassion at this account ; and
having invited Robinson to dinner, they spent that day
24 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
together. In the afteraoon, Booth indulged his friend
with a game of cards, at first for halfpence, and after-
ward for shillings ; when Fortune so favoured Robin-
son, that he did not leave the other a single shilling in
his pocket.
A surprising run of luck in a gamester is often mis-
taken for somewhat else, by persons who are not over
zealous believers in the divuiity of Fortune. I have
known a stranger at Bath, who has happened fortunately
(I might almost say unfortunately) to have four by hon-
ours in his hand almost every time he dealt, for a whole
evening, shunned universally by the whole company the
next day : and certain it is, that Mr. Booth, though of a
temper very little inclined to suspicion, began to waver
in his opinion, whether the character given by Mr. Rob-
inson of himself, or that which the others gave of him,
was the truer.
In the morning, hunger paid him a second visit, and
found him again in the same situation as before. After
some deliberation, therefore, he resolved to ask Robin-
son to lend him a shilling or two of that money which
was lately his own ; and this experiment, he thought,
would confirm him either in a good or evil opinion of
that gentleman.
To this demand Robinson answered, with great alac-
rity, that he should very gladly have complied, had not
Fortune played one of her jade tricks with him ; "for
since my winning of you," said he, " I have been stripped
not only of your money, but my own." He was going
to harangue further, but Booth, with great indignation,
turned from him.
This poor gentleman had very little time to reflect on
his own misery, or the rascality, as it appeared to him, of
the other, when the same person, who had the day be-
fore delivered him the guinea from the unknown hand,
again accosted him, and told him a lady in the house
(so he expressed himself) desired the favour of his com-
pany.
Mr. Booth immediately obeyed the message, and was
conducted into a room in the prison, where he was pres-
ently convinced that Mrs. Vincent was no other than
his old acquaintance Miss Matthews.
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 25
Chapter VI. — Containing the extraordinary behaviour of Miss Mat-
thews on her meeting with Booth ; and some endeavours to prove,
by reason and authority, that it is possible for a woman to appear
to be what she really is not.
Eight or nine years had passed since any interview
between Mr. Booth and Miss Matthew's ; and their meet-
ing now in so extraordinary a place affected both of them
with equal surprise.
After some immaterial ceremonies, the lady acquaint-
ed Mr. Booth, that having heard there was a person in
the prison who knew her by the name of Matthews, she
had great curiosity to inquire who he was, whereupon
he had been shown to her from the window of the
house ; that she immediately recollected him, and being
informed of his distressful situation, for which she ex-
pressed great concern, she had sent him that guinea
which he had received the day before ; and then pro-
ceeded to excuse herself for not having desired to see
him at that time, when she was under the greatest dis-
order and hurry of spirits.
Booth made many handsome acknowledgments of her
favour ; and added, that he very httle wondered at the
disorder of her spirits, concluding, that he was heartily
concerned at seeing her there ; " but I hope, madam,"
said he —
Here he hesitated ; upon which, bursting into an agony
of tears, she cried out, " Oh captain ! captain ! many
extraordinary things have passed since last I saw yon.
Oh gracious Heaven ! did I ever expect that this would
be the next place of our meeting "?"
She then flung herself into her chair, where she gave
a loose to her passion, while he, in the most affection-
ate and tender manner, endeavoured to sooth and com-
fort her ; but passion itself did, probably, more for its
own relief than all his friendly consolations. Having
vented this in a large flood of tears, she became pretty
well composed; but Booth unhappily mentioning her
father, she again relapsed into an agony, and cried out,
*' Why, why will you repeat the name of that dear man I
I have disgraced him, Mr. Booth ; I am unworthy the
name of his daughter." Here passion again stopped her
words, and discharged itself in tears.
After this second vent of sorrow or shame, or, if the
3 B
26 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
reader pleases, of rage, she once more recovered from
her ag-onies : to say the truth, these are, I beheve, as
critical discharges of nature as any of those which are
so called by the physicians ; and do more eifectually re-
lieve the mind than any remedies with which the whole
materia medica of philosophy can supply it.
When Mrs. Vincent had recovered her faculties, she
perceived Booth standing silent, with a mixture of con-
cern and astonishment in his countenance ; then, ad-
dressing herself to him with an air of most bewitching
softness, of which she was a perfect mistress, she said,
" I do not wonder at your amazement, Captain Booth,
nor, indeed, at the concern which you so plainly discover
for me ; for 1 well know the goodness of your nature :
but, oh, Mr. Booth ! believe me, when you know what
has happened since our last meeting, your ''oncern will
be raised, however your astonishment may cease. Oh,
sir, you are a stranger to the cause of my sorrows."
" I hope I am, madam," answered he, " for I cannot
believe what 1 have heard in the prison : surely mur-
der— " At which words she started from her chair,
repeating, " Murder ! Oh, it is music in my ears ! You
have heard, then, the cause of my commitment, my glory,
my delight, my reparation ! Yes, my old friend, this is
the hand, this is the arm, that drove the penknife to his
heart. Unkind fortune, that not one drop of his blood
reached my hand! Indeed, sir, 1 would never have
washed it from it. But, though I have not the happiness
to see it on my hand, I have the glorious satisfaction
of remembering I saw it run in rivers on the floor ; 1 saw
it forsake his cheeks; I saw him fall a martyr to my
revenge. And is the killing a villain to be called murder ?
Perhaps the law calls it so. Let it call it what it will,
or punish me as it pleases. Punish me ! — no, no — that
is not in the power of man — not of that monster man,
Mr. Booth. 1 am undone, am revenged, and have now
no more business for life : let them take it from me
when they will."
Our poor gentleman turned pale with horror at this
speech, and the ejaculation of " Good Heavens ! what
do I hear V burst spontaneously from his lips : nor can
we wonder at this, though he was the bravest of men ;
for her voice, her looks, her gestures were properly
adapted to the sentiments she expressed. Such, indeed,
was her image, that neither could Shakspeare describe,
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 27
nor Hogarth paint, nor Clive act, a fury in higher per-
fection.
" What do you hear ?" reiterated she : " you hear the
resentment of the most injured of women. You have
heard, you say, of the murder ; but do you know the
cause, Mr. Booth 1 have you, since your return to Eng-
land, visited that country where we formerly knew one
another? tell me, do you know my wretched story ] tell
me that, my friend."
Booth hesitated for an answer : indeed, he had heard
some imperfect stories, not much to her advantage. She
wailed not till he had formed a speech, but cried, " What-
ever you may have heard, you cannot be acquainted
with all the strange accidents which have occasioned
your seeing me in a place which, at our last parting,
was so unlikely that I should ever have been found in ;
nor can you know the cause of all that I have uttered, and
which, I am convinced, you never expected to have
heard from my mouth. If these circumstances raise
your curiosity, I will satisfy it."
He answered, that curiosity was too mean a word to
express his ardent desire of knowing her story : upon
which, with very little previous ceremony, she began to
relate what is written in the following chapter.
But, before we put an end to this, it may be necessary
to whisper a word or two to the critics, who have, per-
haps, begun to express no less astonishment than Mr.
Booth, that a lady, in whom we had remarked a most
extraordinary power of displaying softness, should, the
very next moment after the words were out of her mouth,
express sentiments becoming the lips of a Delilah, Jez-
ebel, Medea, Semiramis, Parysatis, Tanaquil, Livilla,
Messalina, Agrippina, Brunichilde, Elfrida, Lady Mac-
beth, Joan of Naples, Christina of Sweden, Catharine
Hays, Sarah Malcolm, Con. Philips,* or any other
heroine of the tender sex, which history, sacred or
profane, ancient or modern, false or true, has recorded.
We desire such critics to remember, that it is the
same English climate, in which, on the lovely tenth of
June, under a serene sky, the amorous Jacobite, kissing
the odoriferous zephyr's breath, gathers a nosegay of
white roses to deck the whiter breast of Celia; and in
which, on the eleventh of June, the very next day, the
* Though last, not least.
B2
28 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
boisterous Boreas, roused by the hollow thunder, rushes
horribly through the air, and, driving the wet tempest
before him, levels the hope of the husbandman with the
earth, dreadful remembrance of the consequences of the
revolution !
Again, let it be remembered, that it is the selfsame
Celia, all tender, soft, and delicate, who, with a voice,
the sweetness of which the sirens might envy, warbles
the harmonious song in praise of the young adventurer;
and again, the next day, or perhaps the next hour, with
fiery eyes, wrinkled brows, and foammg hps, roars forth
treason and nonsense in a poHtical argument with some
fair one of a different principle.
Or, if the critic be a whig, and consequently dislikes
such kind of similes, as being too favourable to Jacob-
itism, let him be contented with the following story : —
I happened in my youth to sit behind two ladies in a
side box at a play, wiiere, in the balcony on the opposite
side, was placed the inimitable B y C s, in com-
pany with a young fellow of no very formal, or, indeed,
sober appearance. One of the ladies, I remember,
said to the other, " Did you ever see anything look so
modest and so innocent as that girl over the way!
What pity it is such a creature should be in the way of
ruin, as I am afraid she is, by her being alone with that
young fellow !" Now this lady was no bad physiogno-
mist ; for it was impossible to conceive a greater ap-
pearance of modesty, innocence, and simphcity, than
what nature had displayed in the countenance of that
girl ; and yet, all appearances notwithstanding, I myself
(remember, critic, it was in my youth) had, a few morn-
ings before, seen that very identical picture of all those
engaging qualities in bed with a rake at a bagnio, smo-
king tobacco, drinking punch, talking obscenity, and
swearing and cursing with all the impudence and im-
piety of the lowest and most abandoned trull of a
soldier.
Chapter VII.— In which Miss Matthews begms her history.
Miss Matthews, having barred the door on the inside
as securely as it was before barred on the outside, pro-
ceeded as follows : —
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 29
" You may imagine I am going to begin my history
at the time when you left the country ; but I cannot help
reminding you of something which happened before.
You will soon recollect the incident ; but I believe you
little know the consequence either at that time or since.
Alas! I could keep a secret then: now 1 have no se-
crets ; the world knows all ; and it is not worth my
while to conceal anything. Well ! you will not wonder,
I believe. I protest I can hardly tell it you even now ;
but I am convinced you have too good an opinion of
yourself to be surprised at any conquest you may have
made. Few men want that good opinion; and perhaps
very few had ever more reason for it. Indeed, Will,
you was a charming fellow in those days; nay, you
are not much altered for the worse now, at least in the
opinion of some women ; for your complexion and fea-
tures are grown much more masculine than they were."
Here Booth made her a low bow, most probably with a
compliment; and, after a little hesitation, she again pro-
ceeded : " Do you remember a contest which happened
at an assembly between myself and Miss Johnson, about
standing uppermost] You was then my partner, and
young Williams danced with the other lady. The par-
ticulars are not now worth mentioning, though I suppose
you have long since forgotten them. Let it suffice that
you supported my claim, and Williams very sneakingly
gave up that of his partner, who was, with much diffi-
culty, afterward prevailed on to dance with him. You
said (I am sure 1 repeat the words exactly) that you
would not for the world affront any lady there ; but that
you thought you might, without any such danger, de-
clare that there was no assembly in which that lady
(meaning your humble servant) was not worthy of the
uppermost place; nor will I, said you, suffer the first
duke in England, when she is at the uppermost end of
the room, and has called her dance, to lead his partner
above her.
'• What made this the more pleasing to me was that I
secretly hated Miss Johnson. Will you have the reason 1
why, then, I will tell you honestly, she was my rival.
That word perhaps astonishes you, as you never, 1 be-
lieve, heard of any one who made his addresses to me ;
and, indeed, my heart was, till that night, entirely indif-
ferent to all mankind. I mean, then, that she was my
rival for praise, for beauty, for dress, for fortune, and,
3*
30 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
consequently, for admiration. My triumph on this con-
quest IS not to be expressed, any more than my dehght
in the person to whom I chiefly owed it : the former, I
fancy, was visible to the whole company, and I desired
it should be so ; but the latter was so well concealed,
that no one, I am confident, took any notice of it : and
yet you appeared to me that night to be an angel ; you
looked, you danced, you spoke— everything charmed
me."
" Good Heavens !" cries Booth, " is it possible you
should do me so much unmerited honour, and I should
be dunce enough not to perceive the least symptom V
" I assure you," answered she, " I did all I could to
prevent you ; and yet I almost hated you for not seeing
through what I strove to hide. Why, Mr. Booth, was
you not more quick sighted ] I will answer for you :
your affections were more happily disposed of to a
much better woman than myself, whom you married
soon afterward. I should ask you for her, Mr. Booth;
1 should have asked you for her before ; but I am un-
worthy of asking for her, or of calling her my acquaint-
ance."
Booth stopped short, as she was running into another
fit of passion, and begged her to omit all former matters,
and acquaint him with that part of her history to which
he was an entire stranger.
She then renewed her discourse as follows : " You
know, Mr. Booth, I soon afterward left that town, upon
the death of my grandmother, and returned home to my
father's house ; where I had not been long arrived be-
fore some troops of dragoons came to quarter in our
neighbourhood. Among the officers, there was a cornet,
whose detested name was Hebbers, a name I could
scarce repeat, had I not at the same time the pleasure
to reflect that he is now no more. My father, you i^now,
who is a hearty well wisher to the present government,
used always to invite the officers to his house ; so did
he these. " Nor was it long before this cornet, in so par-
ticular a manner recommended himself to the poor old
gentleman, (I cannot think of him without tears,) that
our house became his principal habitation ; and he was
rarely at his quarters, unless when his superior officers
obliged him to be there. I shall say nothing of his per-
son, nor could that be any recommendation to a man ;
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 31
it was such, however, as no woman could have made
an objection to. Nature had certainly wrapped up her
odious work in a most beautiful covering. To say the
truth, he was the handsomest man, except one only, that
I ever saw — I assure you I have seen a handsomer —
but — well — he had, besides, all the quahfications of a
gentleman ; was genteel, and extremely polite ; spoke
French well, and danced to a miracle ; but what chiefly
recommended him to my father was his skill in music,
of which you know that dear man was the most violent
lover. I wish he was not too susceptible of flattery on
that head ; for I have heard Hebbers often greatly com-
mend my father's performance, and have observed that
the good man was wonderfully pleased with such com-
mendations. To say the truth, it is the only way I can
account for the extraordinary friendship which my
father conceived for this person ; such a friendship, that
he at last became a part of our family.
"This very circumstance, which, as I am convinced,
strongly recommended him to my father, had the very
contrary effect with me : I had never any delight in
music, and it was not without much difficulty I was
prevailed on to learn to play on the harpsichord, in
which I had made a very slender progress. As this
man, therefore, was frequently the occasion of my
being importuned to play against my will, I began to
entertain some dislike for him on that account ; and as
to his person, I assure you, I long continued to look on
it with great indifference.
" How strange will the art of this man appear to you
presently, who had suflicient address to convert that
very circumstance, which had, at first, occasioned my
dislike, into the first seeds of affection for him.
" You have often, I believe, heard my sister Betty
play on the harpsichord ; she was, indeed, reputed the
best performer in the whole country.
" 1 was the farthest in the world from regarding this
perfection of hers with envy. In reality, perhaps, I des-
pised all perfection of this kind ; at least, as I had neither
skill nor ambition to excel this way, I looked upon it as
a matter of mere indiflference.
" Hebbers first put this emulation in my head : he took
great pains to persuade me that 1 had much greater abil-
ities of the musical kind than my sister ; and that I might,
with the greatest ease, if I pleased, excel her ; offering
32 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
me, at the same time, his assistance, if I would resolve
to undertake it.
" When he had sufficiently inflamed my ambition, in
which, perhaps, he found too little difficulty, the con-
tinual praises of my sister, which before I had disre-
garded, became more and more nauseous in my ears;
and the rather, as music being the favourite passion of
my father, I became apprehensive (not without frequent
hints from Hebbers of that nature) that she might gain
too great a preference in his favour.
*' To my harpsichord then I applied myself night and
day with such industry and attention, that I soon began
to perform in a tolerable manner. I do not absolutely
say I excelled my sister, for many were of a different
opinion ; but, indeed, there might be some partiality in
all that.
" Hebbers, at least, declared himself on my side, and
nobody could doubt his judgment. He asserted openly
that I played in the better manner of the two : and one
day, when I was playing to him alone, he affected to
burst into a rapture of admiration, and, squeezing me
gently by the hand, said, ' There, madam, I now declare
you excel your sister as much in music as,' added he, in
a whispering sigh, 'you do her, and all the world, in
every other charm.'
" No woman can bear any superiority in whatever
thing she desires to excel. I now began to hate all the
admirers of my sister, to be uneasy at every commen-
dation bestowed upon her skill in music, and conse-
quently to love Hebbers for the preference which he
gave to mine.
" It was now that I began to survey the handsome
person of Hebbers with pleasure. And here, Mr. Booth,
I will betray to you the grand secret of our sex. Many
women, I believe, do, with great innocence, and even
with great indifference, converse with men of the finest
persons; but this I am confident may be affirmed with
truth, that when once a woman comes to ask this ques-
tion of herself — Is the man, whom I like for some other
reason, handsome ] her fate, and his too, very strongly
depend upon her answering in the affirmative.
" Hebbers no sooner perceived that he had made an
impression on my heart, of which, I am satisfied, I gave
him too undeniable tokens, than he affected, on a sud-
den, to shun me in the most apparent manner. He
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 33
wore the most melancholy air in. my presence, and, by
his dejected looks and sighs, firmly persuaded me, that
there was some secret sorrow labouring in his bosom ;
nor will it be difficult for you to imagine to what cause
I imputed it.
" While I was wishing for his declaration of a passion,
in which I thought I could not be mistaken, and, at the
same time, trembling whenever we met, with the ap-
prehension of this very declaration, the widow Carey
came from London to make us a visit, intending to stay
the whole summer at our house.
" Those who know Mrs. Carey will scarce think I do
her an injury, in saying she is far from being handsome ;
and yet, she is as finished a coquette as if she had the
highest beauty to support that character ; but perhaps
you have seen her ; and if you have, I am convinced
you will readily subscribe to my opinion."
Booth answered, he had not ; and then she proceeded,
as in the following chapter.
Chapter VIIL — The history of Miss Matthews continued.
" This young lady had not been three days with us
before Hebbers grew so particular with her, that it was
generally observed ; and my poor father, who, I believe,
loved the cornet as if he had been his son, began to
jest on the occasion, as one who would not be dis-
pleased at throwing a good jointure into the arms of
his friend.
" You will easily guess, sir, the disposition of my
mind on this occasion, but I was not permitted to suffer
long under it; for one day, when Hebbers was alone
with me, he took an opportunity of expressing his ab-
horrence at the thoughts of marrying for interest, con-
trary to his inclinations : I was warm on the subject,
and, I believe, went so far as to say that none but fools
and villains did so. He replied, with a sigh, ' Yes, mad-
am, but what would you think of a man whose heart is
all the while bleeding for another woman, to whom he
would willingly sacrifice the world; but, because he must
sacrifice her interest as well as his own, never durst
even give her a hint of that passion which was preying
upon his very vitals? Do you believe, Miss Fanny,
B3
34 THE HISTORY OP AMELIA.
there is such a wretch on earth?' I answered, with an
assumed coldness, 1 did not believe there was. He then
took me g'ently by the hand, and, with a look so tender
that I cannot describe it, vowed he was himself that
wretch. Then starting, as if conscious of an error com-
mitted, he cried, with a faltering voice, ' What am I
saying 1 Pardon me. Miss Fanny, since I only beg your
pity; I never will ask for more.' At these words, hear-
ing my father coming up, I betrayed myself entirely, if
indeed I had not done it before. I hastily withdrew my
hand, crying, ' Hush ! for Heaven's sake ; my father is
just coming in :' my blushes, my look, and my accent
telling him, I suppose, all which he wished to know.
" A few days now brought matters to an eclaircisse-
ment between us ; the being undeceived in what had
given me so much uneasiness, gave me a pleasure too
sweet to be resisted. To triumph over the wadow, for
whom I had, in a very short time, contracted a most in-
veterate hatred, was a pride not to be described. Heb-
bers appeared to be the cause of all this happiness. I
doubted not but that he had the most disinterested pas-
sion for me, and thought him every w^ay worthy of its
return. I did return it, and accepted him as my lover.
" He declared the greatest apprehensions of my fa-
ther's suspicion, though I am convinced these were cause-
less, had his designs been honourable. To blind these,
I consented that he should carry on sham addresses to
the widow, who w^as now a constant jest between us ;
and he pretended, from time to time, to acquaint me
faithfully with everything that passed at his interviews
with her ; nor was this faithless woman wanting in her
part of the deceit. She carried herself to me all the
while with a show of atfection, and pretended to have
the utmost friendship for me ; but such are the friend-
ships of women."
At this remark, Booth, though enough affected at
some parts of the story, had great difficulty to refrain
from laughter ; but, by good luck, he escaped, being per-
ceived ; and the lady went on without interruption.
" I am come now to a part of my narrative, in which it
is impossible to be particular without being tedious ; for
as to the commerce between lovers, it is, I believe, much
the same in all cases ; and there is, perhaps, scarce a
single phrase that has not been repeated ten millions of
times.
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 35
" One thing, however, as I strongly remarked it then,
so I will repeat it to you now : in all our conversations,
in moments when he fell into the warmest raptures, and
expressed the greatest uneasiness at the delay of his
joys, he seldom mentioned the word marriage, and never
once solicited a day for that purpose. Indeed, women
cannot be cautioned too much against such lovers ; for
though 1 have heard, and perhaps truly, of some of our
sex, of a virtue so exalted, that it is proof against every
temptation ; yet the generality, I am afraid, are too
much in the power of a man, to whom they have owned
ail affection. What is called being upon a good footing
is, perhaps, being upon a very dangerous one ; and a
woman who has given her consent to marry, can hardly
be said to be safe till she is married.
" And now, sir, I hasten to the period of my ruin. We
had a wedding in our family : my musical sister was
married to a young fellow as musical as herself. Such
a match, you may be sure, among other festivities, must
have a ball. Oh, Mr. Booth, shall modesty forbid me to
remark to you what passed on that occasion 1 But why
do I mention modesty, who have no pretensions to it I
Everything was said and practised on that occasion,
as if the purpose had been to inflame the mind of every
woman present. That effect, 1 freely own to you, it had
with me. Music, dancing, wine, and the most luscious
conversation, in which my poor dear father innocently
joined, raised ideas in me, of which I shall for ever re-
pent; and I wished (why should I deny it?) that it had
been my wedding instead of my sister's.
" The villain Hebbers danced with me that night, and
he lost no opportunity of improving the occasion. In
short, the dreadful evening came ; my father, though it
was a very unusual thing with him, grew intoxicated
with liquor ; most of the men were in the same condi-
tion ; nay, I myself drank more than I was accustomed
to, enough to inflame, though not to disorder. I lost my
former bedfellow, my sister, and — you may, I think, guess
the rest : the villain found means to steal to my cham-
ber, and I was undone.
"Two months 1 passed in this detested commerce,
buying, even then, my guilty, half-tasted pleasures at
too dear a rate, with continual horror and apprehension.
But what have I paid since, what do I pay now, Mr.
Booth 1 Oh, may my fate be a warning to every woman
36 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
to keep her innocence, to resist every temptation, since
she is certain to repent of the foolish bargain ! May it
be a warning to her to deal with mankind with care and
caution ; to shun the least approaches of dishonour, and
never to confide too much in the honesty of a man, nor
in her own strength, where she has so much at stake ;
let her remember she walks on a precipice, and the bot-
tomless pit is to receive her, if she slips ; nay, if she
makes but one false step.
*' I ask your pardon, Mr. Booth : I might have spared
these exhortations, since no woman hears me ; but you
will not wonder at seeing me affected on this occasion."
Booth declared he was much more surprised at her
being able so well to preserve her temper in recounting
her story.
" Oh, sir," answered she, " I am at length reconciled to
my fate, and I can now die with pleasure, since 1 die
revenged. I am not one of those mean wretches who
can sit down and lament their misfortunes. If I ever
shed tears, they are the tears of indignation : but I will
proceed.
" It was my fate now to solicit marriage ; and I failed
not to do it in the most earnest manner. He answered
me at first with procrastinations, declaring, from time to
time, he would mention it to my father ; and still ex-
cusing himself for not doing it. At last he thought on
an expedient to obtain a longer reprieve. This was by
pretending, that he should, in a very few weeks, be pre-
ferred to the command of a troop ; and then he said he
could with some confidence propose the match.
" In this delay I was persuaded to acquiesce, and was
indeed pretty easy ; for I had not yet the least mistrust
of his honour : but what words can paint my sensations,
when one morning he came into my room with ail the
marks of dejection in his countenance, and, throwing an
open letter on the table, said, ' There is news, madam,
in that letter which I am unable to tell you ; nor can it
give you more concern than it has given me.'
"This letter was from his captain, to acquaint him
that the rout, as they call it, was arrived, and that they
were to march within two days. And this, I am since
convinced, w^as what he expected, instead of the pre-
ferment which had been made the pretence of delaying
our marriage.
" The shock which I felt at reading this was inex-
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 37
pressible, occasioned, indeed, principally by the depar-
ture of a villain whom I loved. However, 1 soon ac-
quired sufficient presence of mind to remember the main
point; and I now insisted peremptorily on his making
nie immediately his wife, whatever might be the conse-
quence.
" He seemed thunderstruck at this proposal, being, I
suppose, destitute of any excuse ; but I was too impa-
tient to wait for an answer, and cried out with much
eagerness, ' Sure you cannot hesitate a moment upon this
matter.' ' Hesitate, madam !' replied he : ' what you ask
is impossible. Is this a time for me to mention any-
thing of this kind to your father V My eyes were now
opened all at once; 1 fell into a rage httle short of mad-
ness. ' Tell not me,' I cried, ' of impossibilities, nor
times, nor of my father ; my honour, my reputation, my
all are at stake ; I will have no excuse, no delay ; make
me your wife this instant, or I will proclaim you over
the face of the whole earth as the greatest of villains.'
He answered with a kind of sneer, * What will you pro-
claim, madam? whose honour will you injure!' My
tongue faltered when I offered to reply, and I fell into
a violent agony, which ended in a lit ; nor do I remem-
ber anything more that passed, till 1 fotmd. myself in the
arms of my poor affrighted father.
" Oh, Mr. Booth, what was then my situation ! I
tremble even now from the reflection : I must stop a
moment ; I can go no farther." Booth attempted all in
his power to sooth her ; and she soon recovered her
powers, and proceeded in her story.
Chapter IX. — In which Miss Matthews concludes her relation.
" Before 1 had recovered my senses, I had sufficiently
betrayed myself to the best of men, who, instead of
upbraiding me, or exerting any anger, endeavoured to
comfort me all he could, with assurances that all should
yet be well. This goodness of his affected me with in-
expressible sensations : I prostrated myself before him,
embraced and kissed his knees, and almost dissolved in.
tears, and a degree of tenderness hardly to be conceived.
But 1 am running into too minute descriptions.
" Hebbers, seeing me in a fit, had left me, and sent
4
38 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
one of his servants to take care of me ; he then ran
away hke a thief from the house, without taking his
leave of my father, or once thanking him for all his
civilities. He did not stop at his quarters, but made di-
rectly to London, apprehensive, I believe, either of my
father or brother's resentment ; for I am convinced he
is a coward. Indeed, his fear of my brother was ut-
terly groundless; for I believe he would rather have
thanked any man who had destroyed me; and I am
sure 1 am not in the least behindhand with him in good
wishes.
" All his inveteracy to me had, however, no effect on
my father, at least at that time ; for though the good
man took sufficient occasions to reprimand me for my
past offence, he conld not be brought to abandon me.
A treaty of marriage was now set on foot, in which my
father himself offered me to Hebbers, with a fortune
superior to that which had been given with my sister ;
nor could all my brother's remonstrances against it, as
an act of the highest injustice, avail.
" Hebbers entered into the treaty, though not with
much warmth : he had even the assurance to make ad-
ditional demands on my father, which being complied
with, everything was concluded, and the villain once
more received into the house. He soon found means to
obtain my forgiveness of his former behaviour : indeed,
he convinced me, so foolishly blind is female love, that
he had never been to blame.
" When everything was ready for our nuptials, and
the day of the ceremony was to be appointed, in the
midst of my happiness, I received a letter from an un-
known hand, acquainting me (guess, Mr. Booth, how
I was shocked at receiving it) that Mr. Hebbers was
already married to a woman in a distant part of the
kingdom.
" I will not tire you with all that passed at our next
interview. I communicated the letter to Hebbers, who,
after some little hesitation, owned the fact ; and not
only owned it, but had the address to improve it to his
own advantage, to make it the means of satisfying me
concerning all his former delays ; which, to say the
truth, I was not so much displeased at imputing to any
degree of villany, a's I should have been to impute it
to the want of a sufficient warmth of affection; and
though the disappointment of all my hopes, at the very
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 39
instant of their expected fruition, threw me into the
most violent disorders, yet, when I came a little to my-
self, he had no great difficulty to persuade me, that in
every instance, with regard to me, Hebbers had acted
from no other motive than from tlie most ardent and un-
governable love ; and there is, I believe, no crime which
a woman will not forgive, when she can derive it from
that fountain. In short, 1 forgave him all, and am wil-
ling to persuade myself I am not weaker than the rest
of my sex. Indeed, Mr. Booth, he has a bewitching
tongue, and is master of an address that no woman
could resist. I do assure you, the charms of his person
ai'e his least perfection, at least in my eye."
Here Booth smiled, but happily without her perceiv-
ing it.
" A fresh difficulty," continued she, " now arose : this
was to excuse the delay of the ceremony to my father,
who every day very earnestly urged it. This made me
so very uneasy, that I at last listened to a proposal,
which, if any one, in the days of my innocence, or even
a few days before, had assured me 1 could have sub-
mitted to have thought of, I should have treated the
supposition with the highest contempt and indignation ;
nay, 1 scarce reflect on it with more horror than aston-
ishment. In short, 1 agreed to run away with him : to
leave my father, my reputation, everything which was
or ought to have been dear to me, and to live with this
villain as a mistress, since I could not be his wife.
" Was not this an obligation of the highest and ten-
derest kind, and had I not reason to expect every return
in the man's power, on whom 1 had conferred it!
"I will make short of the remainder of ray story:
for what is there of a woman worth relating, after what
I have told you ?
*' Above a year I lived with this man in an obscure
court in London; during which time I had a child by
him, whom Heaven, I thank it, has been pleased to take
to itself.
" During many months he behaved to me with all the
apparent tenderness, and even fondness imaginable ; but,
alas ! how poor was my enjoyment of this, compared
to what it would have been in another situation ! When
he was present, life was barely tolerable ; but when he
was absent, nothing could equal the misery I endured : I
passed my hours almost entirely alone ; for no com-
40 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
pany, but what I despised, would consort with me.
Abroad I scarce ever went, lest I should meet any of my
former acquaintance ; for their sight would have plunged
a thousand daggers in my soul. My only diversion was
going very seldom to a pla}', where I hid myself in the
gallery, with a daughter of the woman of the house ;
a girl, indeed, of good sense, and many good qualities ;
but how much beneath me was it to be the companion
of a creature *so low ! Oh, heavens ! when I have seen
my equals glittering in a side box, how have the thoughts
of my lost honour torn my soul !"
" Pardon me, dear madam," cries Booth, " for inter-
rupting you ; but I am under the utmost anxiety to know
what became of your poor father, for whom I have so
great a respect, and who, I am convinced, must so bit-
terly feel your loss."
" Oh, Mr. Booth," answered she, " he was scarce ever
out of my thoughts. His dear image still obtruded it-
self in my mind, and I believe would have broken my
heart, had I not taken a very preposterous way to ease
myself. 1 am, indeed, almost ashamed to tell you ; but
necessity put it in my head. You will think the matter
too trifling to have been remembered, and so it surely
was; nor should I have remembered it on any other
occasion. You must know then, sir, that my brother
was always my inveterate enemy, and altogether as
fond of my sister. He once prevailed with my father
to let him take my sister with him in the chariot, and
by that means I was disappointed of going to a ball
which I had set my heart on. The disappointment I
assure you, was great at the time ; but I had long since
forgotten it: I must have been a very bad woman if I
had not ; for it was the only thing in which I can re-
member that my father ever disobliged me. However,
I now revived this in my mind, which I artificially
worked up into so high an injury, that I assure you it af-
forded me no little comfort. When any tender idea in-
truded into my bosom, I immediately raised this phantom
of an injury in my imagination, and it considerably les-
sened the fury of that sorrow which I should otherwise
have felt for the loss of so good a father, who died
within a few months of my departure from him.
" And now, sir, to draw to a conclusion. One night,
as I was in the gallery at Drury Lane playhouse, I saw
below me, in a side box, (she was once below me in
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 41
every place,) that widow whom I mentioned to you be-
fore. I had scarce cast my eyes on this woman, before
I was so shocked with the sight, that it ahnost deprived
me of my senses ; for the villain Hebbers came present-
ly in, and seated himself behind her.
" He had been almost a month from me, and I be-
lieved him to be at his quarters in Yorkshire. Guess
what were my sensations, when I beheld him sitting by
that base woman, and talking to her with the utmost
familiarity! I could not long endure this sight; and
having acquainted my companion that I was taken sud-
denly ill, 1 forced her to go home with me at the end of
the second act.
" After a restless and sleepless night, when I rose the
next morning, I had the comfort to receive a visit from
the woman of the house, who, after a very short intro-
duction, asked me when I had heard from the captain,
and when I expected to see him ? I had not strength
or spirits to make her an answer; and she proceeded
thus : ' Indeed, I did not think the captain would have
used me so. My husband was an officer of the army
as well as himself; and if a body is a little low in the
world, I am sure that is no reason for folks to trample
on a body. I defy the world to say as I ever was guilty
of an ill thing.' ' For Heaven's sake ! madam,' says I,
* what do you mean V ' Mean V cries she : ' 1 am sure,
if I had not thought you had been Captain Hebbers's
lady, his lawful lady too, you should never have set foot-
ing in my house : 1 would have Captain Hebbers know,
that though I am reduced to let lodgings, 1 never have
entertained any but persons of character.' In this man-
ner, sir, she ran on, saying many shocking things not
worth repeating, till at last my anger got the better of
my patience, as well as my sorrow, and I pushed her
out of the room.
"She had not been long gone before her daughter
came to me, and, after many expressions of tenderness
and pity, acquainted me, that her mother had just found
out, by means of the captain's servant, that the captain
was married to another lady ; ' which, if you did not
know before, madam,' said she, ' I am sorry to be the
messenger of such ill news.'
" Think, Mr. Booth, what I must have endured, to see
myself humbled before such a creature as this, the
daughter of a woman who lets lodgings ! However,
4*
42 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
having recollected myself a little, I thought it would be
in vain to deny anything ; so, knowing this to be one of
the best-natured and most sensible girls in the world, I
resolved to tell her my whole story, and for the future
to make her my confidant. I answered her, therefore,
with a good deal of assurance, that she need not regret
telling me this piece of ill news, for I had known it be-
fore I came to her house.
" ' Pardon me, madam,' replied the girl, ' you cannot
possibly have known it so long; for he has not been
married above a week : last night was the first time of
his appearing in public with his wife at the play. In-
deed, I knew very well the cause of your uneasiness
there ; but would not mention — '
" ' His wife at the play !' answered I, eagerly : ' what
wife"? whom do you meanT
" ' I mean the widow Carey, madam,' replied she, * to
whom the captain was married a few days since. His
servant was here last night to pay for your lodging, and
he told it my mother.'
" I know not what answer I made, or whether I made
any : I presently fell dead on the floor, and it was with
great difficulty 1 was brought back to life by the poor
girl ; for neither the mother nor the maid of the house
would lend me any assistance, both seeming to regard
me rather as a monster than a woman.
" Scarce had I recovered the use of my senses, when
I received a letter from the villain, declaring he had not
the assurance to see my face, and very kindly advising
me to endeavour to reconcile myself to my family ;
concluding with an offer, in case 1 did not succeed, to
allow me twenty pounds a year to support me in some
remote part of the kingdom.
" I need not mention my indignation at these propo-
sals. In the highest agony of rage, 1 went in a chair to
the detested house, where I easily got access to the
wretch I had devoted to destruction, whom I no sooner
found within my reach, than I plunged a drawn pen-
knife, which I had prepared in my pocket for that pur-
pose, into his accursed heart. For this fact I was im-
mediately seized, and soon after committed hither : and
for this fact I am ready to die, and shall with pleasure
receive the sentence of the law.
" Thus, sir," said she, " I have related to you my un-
happy story : and if I have tired your patience, by dwel-
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 43
ling too long on those parts which affected me the most,
I ask your pardon."
Booth made a proper speech on this occasion ; and
having expressed much concern at her present situation,
concluded, that he hoped her sentence would be milder
than she seemed to expect.
[P» Her reply to this was full of so much bitterness and
* indignation, that we do not think proper to record the
speech at length ; in which, having vented her passion,
she all at once put on a serene countenance, and, with
an air of great complacency, said, " Well, Mr. Booth, I
think I have now a right to satisfy my curiosity, at the
expense of your breath. I may say it is not altogether
a vain curiosity, for perhaps I have had inclination
enough to interest myself in whatever concerns you ;
but no matter for that; those days," added she, with a
sigh, " are now over."
Booth, who was extremely good-natured and well-
bred, told her, that she should not command him twice,
whatever was in his power ; and then, after the usual
apology, was going to begin his history, when the
keeper arrived, and acquainted the lady that dinner was
ready, at the same time saying, " I suppose, madam,
as the gentleman is an acquaintance of yours, he must
dine with us too."
Miss Matthews told the keeper, that she had only one
word to mention in private to the gentleman, and that
then they would both attend him. She then pulled her
purse from her pocket, in which were upwards of twenty
guineas, being the remainder of the money for which
she had sold a gold repeating watch, her father's pres-
ent, with some other trinkets, and desired Mr. Booth to
take what he should have occasion for ; saying, " You
know, I believe, dear Will, I never valued money ; and
now I am sure I shall have very little use for it." Booth,
with much difficulty, accepted of two guineas ; and then
they both together attended the keeper.
44 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
Chapter X. — Table-talk, consisting of a facetious discourse that
passed in the prison.
There were assembled at the table the governor of
these (not improperly called infernal) regions ; the lieu-
tenant governor, vulgarly named first turnkey ; Miss Mat-
thews, Mr. Booth, Mr. Robinson the gambler, several
other prisoners of both sexes, and one Murphy, an at-
torney.
The governor took the first opportunity to bring the
affair of Miss Matthews upon the carpet ; and then
turning to Murphy, he said, " It is very lucky this gen-
tleman happens to be present : I do assure you, madam,
your cause cannot be in abler hands. He is, I believe,
the best man in England at a defence ; I have known
him often succeed against the most positive evidence."
" Fy, sir," answered Murphy; "you know 1 hate all
this ; but, if the lady will trust me with her cause, I will
do the best in my power. Come, madam, do not be dis-
couraged ; a bit of manslaughter and cold iron, I hope,
will be the worst ; or perhaps we may come off better
with a slice of chance-medley, or se defendendo.''''
" I am very ignorant of the law, sir," cries the lady.
" Yes, madam," answered Murphy, " it cannot be ex-
pected you should understand it. There are very few
of us who profess it, that understand the whole ; nor is
it necessary we should. There is a great deal of rubbish
of little use, about endictments, and abatements, and
bars, and ejectments, and trovers, and such stuff, with
■which people cram their heads to little purpose. The
chapter of evidence is the main business ; that is the
sheet anchor ; that is the rudder, which brings the vessel
safe in portum. Evidence is, indeed, the whole, the
summa totidis, for de non apparentibus et non insistentibus
eadem est ratio.''''
" If you address yourself to me, sir," said the lady,
** you are much too learned, I assure you, for my un-
derstanding."
" Tace, madam," answered Murphy, " is Latin for a
candle : I commend your prudence. I shall know the
particulars of your case when we are alone."
" 1 hope the lady," said Robinson, " has no suspicion
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 45
of any one here : I hope we are all persons of honour at
this table."
" 1 can answer for myself and the other ladies," an-
swered a well-dressed woman ; " though I never saw the
lady in my life, she need not be shy of us : d — n me ! I
scorn to rap* against any lady."
" D— n me, madam !" cried another female, " I honour
what you have done. I once put a knife into a cull my-
self: so my service to you, madam ; and I wish you may
come off with se diffidendo with all my heart."
" I beg, good woman," said Miss Matthews, " you
would talk on some other subject, and give yourself no
concern about my affairs."
" You see, ladies," cried Murphy, " the gentlewoman
does not care to talk on this matter before company ;
so, pray, do not press her."
" Nay, I value the lady's acquaintance no more than
she does mine," cries the first woman who spoke : " I
have kept as good company as the lady, I believe, every
day in the week. Good woman ! I do not use to be so
treated. If the lady says such another word to me,
d — n me, I will darken her daylights. Marry, come up !
good woman ! the lady's a — — as well as myself; and
though I am sent hither to milldoll, I have money enough
to buy it oflf as well as the lady herself."
Action might perhaps soon have ensued this speech,
had not the keeper interposed his authority, and put an
end to any further dispute : soon after which the com-
pany broke up ; and none but himself, Mr. Murphy, Cap-
tain Booth, and Miss Matthews remained together.
Miss Matthews then, at the entreaty of the keeper,
began to open her case to Mr. Murphy, whom she ad-
mitted to be her solicitor, though she still declared she
was indifferent as to the event of the trial.
Mr. Murphy, having heard all the particulars, with
which the reader is already acquainted, as far as related
to the murder, shook his head, and said, " There is but
one circumstance, madam, which I wish was out of the
case, and that we must put out of it; I mean the carry-
ing the penknife drawn into the room with you, for that
seems to imply malice prepensive, as we call it in the
law : this circumstance, therefore, must not appear
against you ; and if the servant who was in the room
* A cant word, meaning to swear, or rather perjure yourself.
46 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
observed this, he must be bought off at all hazards. All
here, you say, are friends : therefore, I tell you openly,
you must furnish me with money sufficient for the pur-
pose. Malice is all we have to guard against."
" I would not presume, sir," cries Bootli, " to inform
you in the law ; but I have heard, in case of stabbing, a
man may be endicted upon the statute ; and it is capital,
though no malice appears."
" You say true, sir," answered Murphy; "a man may
be endicted contra formam sLatutis ; and that method, I
allow you, requires no malice. I presume you are a
lawyer, sir 1"
' No, indeed, sir," answered Booth, " I know nothing
of the law."
" Then, sir, I will tell you, if a man be endicted contra
formam statutis, as we say, no malice is necessary ; be-
cause the form of the statute makes malice : and then,
what we have to guard against is, having struck the first
blow. Pox on't ! it is unlucky this was done in a room :
if it had been in the street, we could have had five or six
witnesses to have proved the first blow cheaper than 1 am
afraid we shall get this one ; for when a man knows, from
the unhappy circumstances of the case, that you can
procure no other witness but himself, he is always dear.
It is so in all other ways of business. I am very ex-
plicit, you see ; but we are all among friends. The
safest way is to furnish me with money enough to oflTer
him a good round sum at once ; and, I think (it is for
your good I speak), fifty pounds is the least that can be
offered him. I do assure you I would otfer him no less,
was it my own case."
" And do you think, sir," said she " that 1 would
save my life at the expense of hiring another to perjure
himself]"
" Ay, surely do I," cries Murphy ; " for where is the
fault, admitting there is some fault in perjury, as you
call it 1 and, to be sure, it is such a matter as every man
should rather wish to avoid than not : and yet, as it may
be managed, there is not so much as some people are
apt to imagine in it; for he need not kiss the book, and
then, pray, where is the perjury] but if the crier is
sharper than ordinary, what is it he kisses ] is it any
thing but a bit of calf-skin ! I am sure a man must be
a very bad Christian himself, who would not do so much
as that to save the life of any Christian whatever, much
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 47
more of so pretty a lady. Indeed, madam, if we can
make out but a tolerable case, so much beauty will go a
great way with the judge and the jury too."
The latter part of this speech, notwithstanding the
mouth it came from, caused Miss Matthews to suppress
much of the indignation which began to arise at the for-
mer; and she answered, with a smile, "Sir, you are a
great casuist in these matters ; but we need argue no
longer concerning them ; for if fifty pounds w^ould save
my life, I assure you, I could not command that sum.
The little money I have in my pocket is all I can call
my own ; and, I apprehend, in the situation I am in, I
shall have very little of that to spare."
" Come, come, madam," cries Murphy, "life is sweet,
let me tell you, and never sweeter than when we are
near losing it. I have known many a man very brave
and undaunted at his first commitment, who, when busi-
ness began to thicken a little upon him, has changed
his note. It is no time to be saving in your condition."
The keeper (who, after the liberality of Miss Mat-
thews, and on seeing a purse of guineas in her hand,
had conceived a great opinion of her wealth) no sooner
heard that the sum, which he had, in intention, entirely
confiscated for his own use, was attempted to be broken
in upon, but he thought it high time to be upon his
guard. " To be sure," cries he, " Mr. Murphy, life is
sweet, as you say, that must be acknowledged; to be
sure life is sweet ; but, sweet as it is, no person can ad-
vance more than they are worth to save it ; and, indeed,
if the lady can command no more money than that little
she mentions, she is to be commended for her un-
willingness to part with any of it ; for, to be sure, as
she says, she will want every farthing of that, to live
like a gentlewoman till she comes to her trial. And, to
be sure, as sweet as life is, people ought to take care
to be able to live sweetly while they do live : besides, I
cannot help saying, tho lady shows herself to be what
she is, by her abhorrence of perjury, which is certainly
a very dreadful crime : and, though not kissing the book
does, as you say, make a great deal of difference ; and
if a man had a great while to live and repent, perhaps
he might swallow it well enough; yet, when people
comes to be near their end (as who can venture to
foretel what will be the lady's case ]) they ought to take
care not to overburden their conscience. I hope the
48 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
lady's case will not be found murder ; for I am sure I
always wish well to all my prisoners who show them-
selves to be gentlemen or gentlewomen ; yet, one should
always fear the worst."
" Indeed, sir, you speak like an oracle," answered
the lady; "and one subornation of perjury would sit
heavier on my conscience than twenty such murders as
I am guilty of."
" Nay, to be sure, madam," answered the keeper,
" nobody can pretend to tell what provocation you must
have had ; and certainly it can never be imagined that
a lady, who behaves herself so handsomely as you have
done ever since you have been under my keys, should
be guilty of killing a man without being very highly
provoked to do it."
Mr. Murphy was, I believe, going to answer, when he
was called out of the room ; after which, nothing passed
between the remaining persons worth relating, till Booth
and the lady retired back again into the lady's apartment.
Here they fell immediately to commenting on the
foregoing discourse : but, as their comments were, I be-
lieve, the same with what most readers have made on
the same occasion, we shall omit them. At last, Miss
Matthews reminding her companion of his promise of
relating to her what had befallen him since the inter-
ruption of their former acquaintance, be began, as is
written in the next book of this history.
BOOK II.
Chapter I. — In which Captain Booth begins to relate his history.
The tea-table being removed, and Mr. Booth and the
lady left alone, he proceeded as follows : —
" Since you desire, madam, to know the particulars
of my courtship to that best and dearest of women,
whom I afterward married, I will endeavour to recol-
lect them as well as I can, at least all those incidents
which are most worth relating to you.
" If the vulgar opinion of the fatality in marriage had
ever any foundation, it surely appeared in my marriage
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA, 49
with my Amelia. I knew her in the first dawn of her
beauty, and, I believe, madam, she had as much as ever
fell to the share of a woman; but though I always ad-
mired her, it was long without any spark of love.
Perhaps the general admiration which at that time pur-
sued her, the respect paid her by persons of the highest
rank, and the numberless addresses which were made
her by men of great fortune, prevented my aspiring at
the possession of those charms which seemed so abso-
lutely out of my reach. However it was, I assure you,
the accident which deprived her of the admiration of
others, made the first great impression on my heart in
her favour. The injury done to her beauty by the over-
turning of a chaise, by which, as you may well remem-
ber, her lovely nose was beat all to pieces, gave me an
assurance, that the woman, who had been so much
adored for the charms of her person, deserved a much
higher adoration to be paid to her mind ; for that she
was, in the latter respect, infinitely more superior to the
rest of her sex than she had ever been in the former."
**I admire your taste extremely," cried the lady; "I
remember perfectly well the great heroism with which
your Amelia bore that misfortune."
" Good Heavens ! madam," answered he, " what a mag-
nanimity of mind did her behaviour demonstrate ! If
the world have extolled the firmness of soul in a man, who
can support the loss of fortune ; of a general, who can
be composed after the loss of a victory ; or of a king,
who can be contented with the loss of a crown ; with
what astonishment ought we to behold, with what praises
to honour, a young lady, who can with patience and resig-
nation submit to the loss of exquisite beauty ; in other
words, to the loss of fortune, power, glory, everything
which human nature is apt to court and rejoice in!
What must be the mind which can bear to be deprived
of all these in a moment, and by an unfortunate, trifling
accident! which could support all this, together with
the most exquisite torments of body ; and with dignity,
with resignation, without complaining, almost without
a tear, undergo the most painful and dreadful operations
of surgery in such a situation !" Here he stopped, and
a torrent of tears gushed from his eyes ; such tears as
are apt to flow from a truly noble heart, at the hearing
of anything surprisingly great and glorious. As soon
as he was able, he again proceeded thus : —
5 C
50 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
" Would you think, Miss Matthews, that the misfor-
tune of my Amelia was capable of any aggravation 1
I assure you, she has often told me it was aggravated
with a circumstance, which outweighed all the other in-
gredients. This was the cruel insults she received from
some of her most intimate acquaintance, several of
whom, after many distortions and grimaces, have turned
their heads aside, unable to support their secret triumph,
and burst into a loud laugh in her hearing."
" Good Heaven !" cried Miss Matthews, " what detest-
able actions will this contemptible passion of envy pre-
vail on our sex to commit!"
" An occasion of this kind, as she has since told me,
made the first impression on her gentle heart in my fa-
vour. I was one day in company with several young
ladies, or rather young devils, where poor. Amelia's ac-
cident was the subject of much mirth and pleasantry.
One of these said, she hoped miss would not hold her
head so high for the future. Another answered, I do
not know, madam-, what she may do with her head ; but
I am convinced she will never more turn up her nose at
her betters.' Another cried, What a very proper match
might now be made between Amelia and a certain cap-
tain, who had unfortunately received an injury in the
same part, though from no shameful cause. Many other
sarcasms were thrown out, very unworthy to be re-
peated. I was hurt with perceiving so much malice in
human shape, and cried out, very bluntly, ' Indeed, la-
dies, you need not express such satisfaction at poor
Miss Emily's accident ; for she will still be the hand-
somest woman in England.' This speech of mine was
afterward variously repeated, by some to my honour,
and by others represented in a contrary light : indeed,
it was often reported to be much ruder than it was.
However, it at length reached Amelia's ears. She said
she was very much obliged to me ; since I could have
so much compassion for her as to be rude to a lady on
her account.
"About a month after the accident, when Amelia
began to see company in a mask, I had the honour to
drink tea with her. We were alone together, and I
begged her to indulge my curiosity by showing me her
face. She answered, in a most obliging manner, ' Per-
haps, Mr. Booth, you will as little know me when my
mask is off, as when it is on ;' and at the same instant
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 51
unmasked. The surgeon's skill was the least I consid-
ered. A thousand tender ideas rushed all at once on
my mind. I was unable to contain myself, and eagerly
kissing her hand, I cried, ' Upon my soul, madam, you
never appeared to me so lovely as at this instant.' No-
thing more remarkable passed at this visit ; but 1 sin-
cerely believe we were neither of us hereafter indiffer-
ent to each other.
" Many months, however, passed after this, before I
ever thought seriously of making her my wife : not that
I wanted sufficient love for Amelia ; indeed, it arose
from the vast affection I bore her. I considered my
own as a desperate fortune, hers as entirely dependant
on her mother, who was a woman, you know, of violent
passions, and very unlikely to consent to a match so
highly contrary to the interest of her daughter. The
more 1 loved Amelia, the more firmly 1 resolved within
myself never to propose love to her seriously; such a
dupe was my understanding to my heart ; and so fool-
ishly did I imagine I could be master of a flame, to
which I was every day adding fuel.
'• Oil, Miss Matthews ! we have heard of men entirely
masters of their passions, and of hearts which can carry
this fire in tliem, and conceal it at their pleasure. Per-
haps there may be such ; but if there are, those hearts
may be compared, I believe, to damps, in which it is
more difficult to keep fire ahve than to prevent its bla-
zing ; in mine, it was placed in the midst of combustible
matter.
" After several visits, in which looks and sighs had
been interchanged on both sides, but without the least
mention of passion in private, one day the discourse be-
tween us, when alone, happened to turn on love ; I say
happened, for I protest it was not designed on my side,
and I am as firmly convinced not on hers. 1 was now
no longer master of myself ; I declared myself the
most wretched of all martyrs to this tender passion ; that
I had long concealed it from its object. At length, after
mentioning many particulars, suppressing, however,
those which must have necessarily brought it home to
Amelia, I concluded with begging her to be the confidant
of my amour, and to give me her advice on that occasion.
" Amelia (oh, 1 shall never forget the dear perturba-
tion !) appeared all confusion at this instant. She
trembled, turned pale, and discovered how well she un-
C2
52 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
derstood me, by a thousand more symptoms than I
could take notice of, in a state of mind so very little
different from her own. At last, with faltering accents,
she said, 1 had made a very ill choice of a counsellor, in
a matter in which she was so ignorant : adding, at last
— ' I believe, Mr. Booth, you gentlemen want very little
advice in these affairs, which you all understand better
than we do.'
" I will relate no more of our conversation at present ;
indeed, I am afraid I tire you with too many partic-
ulars."
" Oh no," answered she : " I should be glad to hear
every step of an amour which had so tender a be-
ginning. Tell me everything you said or did, if you
can remember it."
He then proceeded ; and so will we in the next chap-
ter.
Chapter II. — Mr. Booth continues his story. — In this chapter there
are some passages that may serve as a kind of touchstone, by which
a young lady may examine the heart of her lover : I would ad-
vise, therefore, that every lover be obliged to read it over m the
presence of his mistress, and that she carefully watch his emo-
tions while he is reading.
" I WAS under the utmost concern," cries Booth, " when
I retired from my visit, and had reflected coolly on
what I had said. I now saw plainly that I had made
downright love to Amelia ; and I feared, such was my
vanity, that I had already gone too far, and been too
successful. Feared, do I say 1 Could I fear what I
hoped 1 How shall I describe the anxiety of my mind ?"
" You need give yourself no great pain," cried Miss
Matthews, " to describe what I can so easily guess.
To be honest with you, Mr. Booth, 1 do not agree with
your lady's opinion, that the men have a superior under-
standing in the matters of love. Men are often blind to
the passions of women : but every woman is as quick-
sighted as a hawk on these occasions ; nor is there one
article in the whole science which is not understood by
all our sex."
" However, madam," said Mr. Booth, " I now under-
took to deceive Ameha. 1 abstained three days from
seeing her : to say the truth, I endeavoured to work my-
self up to a resolution of leaving her for ever; but
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 63
when I could not so far subdue my passion — But why-
do I talk nonsense of subduing passion ] 1 should say, when
no other passion could surmount my love, I returned
to visit her ; and now I attempted the strangest project
which ever entered into the silly head of a lover. This
was to persuade Amelia that 1 was really in love in an-
other place, and had literally expressed my meaning,
when I asked her advice, and desired her to be my con-
fidant.
" I therefore forged a meeting to have been between
me and my imaginary mistress, since I had last seen
Amelia, and related the particulars, as well as I could
invent them, which had passed at our conversation.
" Poor Amelia presently swallowed this bait, and, as
she has told me since, absolutely believed me to be in
earnest. Poor, dear love ! how should the sincerest of
hearts have an idea of deceit? for, with all her simpli-
city, I assure you she is the most sensible woman in the
world."
" It is highly generous and good in you," said Miss
Matthews, with a sly sneer, " to impute to honesty,
what others would, perhaps, call credulity."
" I protest, madam," answered he, "I do her no more
than justice. A good heart will at all times betray the
best head in the world. Well, madam, my angel was
now, if possible, more confused than before. She looked
so silly, you can hardly believe it."
" Yes, yes, I can," answered the lady with a laugh ;
"lean believe it. Well, well, go on." "After some
hesitation," continued he, " my Amelia said faintly to
me, ' Mr. Booth, you use me very ill ; you desire me to
be your confidant, and conceal from me the name of
your mistress.'
" ' Is it possible then, madam,' answered I, ' that you
cannot guess her, when I tell you she is one of your
acquaintance, and lives in this town V
" ' My acquaintance !' said she, ' la ! Mr. Booth. In this
town ! I — I — I thought I could have guessed for once ;
but I have an ill talent that way — I will never attempt
to guess anything again.' Indeed, I do her an injury
when I pretend to represent her manner. Her manner,
look, voice, everything was inimitable ; such sweetness,
softness, innocence, modesty, — upon my soul, if ever
man could boast of his resolution, I think I might now,
that I abstained from falling prostrate at her feet, and
5*
54 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
adoring her. However, I triumphed; pride, I believe,
triumphed, or perhaps love got the better of love. We
once more parted, and I promised, the next time I saw
her, to reveal the name of my mistress.
" I now had, I thought, gained a complete victory
over myself; and no small compliments did I pay to my
own resolution. In short, I triumphed as cowards and
niggards do, when they flatter themselves with having
given some supposed instance of courage or generosity ;
and my triumph lasted as long ; that is to say, till my
ascendant passion had a proper opportunity of displaying
itself in its true and natural colours.
" Having hitherto succeeded so well in my own opinion
and obtained this mighty self-conquest, I now enter-
tained a design of exerting the most romantic generosity,
and of curing that unhappy passion which I perceived I
had raised in Amelia.
" Among the ladies who had expressed the greatest
satisfaction at my Amelia's misfortunes, Miss Osborne
had distinguished herself in a very eminent degree : she
was, indeed, the next in beauty to my angel ; nay, she
had disputed the preference, and had some among her
admirers, who were blind enough to give it in her
favour."
" Well," cries the lady, " I will allow you to call
them blind ; but Miss Osborne was a charming girl."
" She certainly was handsome," answered he, " and a
very considerable fortune ; so I thought my Ameha
would have little difficulty in believing me, when I fixed
on her as my mistress : and I concluded, that my thus
placing my affections on her known enemy, would be
the surest method of eradicating every tender idea with
which I had been ever honoured by Amelia.
" Well, then, to Amelia 1 went : she received me with
more than usual coldness and reserve ; in which, to con-
fess the truth, there appeared to me more of anger than
indifference, and more of dejection than of either. After
some short introduction, I revived the discourse of my
amour, and presently mentioned Miss Osborne as the
lady whose name I had concealed ; adding, that the true
reason why I did not mention her before was, that I
apprehended there was some little distance between
them, which I hoped to have the happiness of accom-
modating.
*' Amelia answered, with much gravity, ' If you know,
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 65
sir, that there is any distance between us, I suppose you
know the reason of that distance ; and then, 1 think, I
could not have expected to be affronted by her name. I
would not have you think, Mr. Booth, that I hate Miss
Osborne : no, Heaven is my witness, I despise her too
much. Indeed, when I reflect how much I loved the
woman who has treated me so cruelly, I own it gives
me pain. When I lay, as I then imagined, and as all
about me believed, on my deathbed, in all the agonies
of pain and misery, to become the object of laughter to
my dearest friend ! oh, Mr. Booth, it is a cruel reflec-
tion ; and could I, after this, have expected from you —
but why not from you, to whom I am a person entirely
indifferent, if such a friend could treat me so barba-
rously V
" During the greater part of this speech, the tears
streamed from her bright eyes. 1 could endure it no
longer. I caught up the word indifferent, and repeated
it, saying, * Do you think then, madam, that Miss Emily
is indifferent to me V
" ' Yes, surely I do,' answered she : ' 1 know I am :
indeed, why should I not be indifferent to you V ' Have
my eyes,' said I, ' then declared nothing V
" ' Oh, there is no need of your eyes,' answered she ;
* your tongue has declared that you have singled out of all
womankind my greatest, I will say, my basest enemy.
I own I once thought that character would have been
no recommendation to you ; but why did I think so ? 1
was born to deceive myself.'
*' I then fell on my knees before her, and, forcing her
hand, cried out, ' Oh, my Amelia ! I can bear no longer.
You are the only mistress of my affections ; you are the
deity I adore.' In this style I ran on for above two or
three minutes what it is impossible to repeat, till a torrent
of contending passions, together with the surprise, over-
powered her gentle spirits, and she fainted away in my
arms.
" To describe my sensation, till she returned to her-
self, is not in my power." " You need not," cries Miss
Matthews. " Oh, happy Amelia ! why had I not been
blessed with such a passion 1" " I am convinced, mad
am," continued he, " you cannot expect all the particulars
of the tender scene which ensued. I was not enough in
my senses to remember it all. Let it suffice to say, that
that behaviour with which Amelia, while ignorant of its
56 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
motive, had been so much displeased, when she became
sensible of that motive, proved the strongest recommen-
dation to her favour; and she was pleased to call it
generous."
" Generous !" repeated the lady : " and so it was, al-
most beyond the reach of humanity. I question whether
you ever had an equal."
Perhaps the critical reader may have the same doubt
with Miss Matthews ; and lest he should, we will here
make a gap in our history, to give him an opportunity of
accurately considering whether this conduct of Mr. Booth
was natural or no ; and, consequently, whether we have,
in this place, maintained or deviated from that strict ad-
herence to universal truth, which we profess above all
other historians.
Chapter III. — The narrative continued— more of the touchstone.
Booth made a proper acknowledgment of Miss Mat-
thews' civility, and then renewed his story.
"We were upon the footing of lovers; and Amelia
threw off her reserve more and more, till at length I
found all that return of my affection which the tenderest
lover can require.
" My situation would now have been a paradise, had
not my happiness been interrupted with the same reflec-
tions I have already mentioned ; had I not, in short, con-
cluded, that I must derive all my joys from the almost
certain ruin of that dear creature to whom I should owe
them.
" This thought haunted me night and day, till I at
last grew unable to support it : I therefore resolved, in
the strongest manner, to lay it before Amelia.
" One evening, th«n, after the highest professions of
the most disinterested love, in which Heaven knows
my sincerity, I took an occasion to speak to Amelia in
the following manner : —
" * Too true is it, I am afraid, my dearest creature,
that the highest human happiness is imperfect. How
rich would be my cup, was it not for one poisonous
drop which imbitters the whole! Oh, Ameha, what
must be the consequence of my ever having the honour
to call you mine ! You know my situation in life, and
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 57
you know your own : I have lathing more than the
poor provision of an ensign's commission to depend
on ; your sole dependance is on your mother : should
any acts of disobedience defeat your expectations, how
wretched must your lot be with me ! Oh, Amelia, how
ghastly an object to my mind is the apprehension of
your distress ! Can I bear to reflect a moment on the
certainty of your foregoing all the conveniences of life ;
on the possibility of your suffering all its most dreadful
inconveniences ! What must be my misery then, to see
you in such a situation, and to upbraid myself with be-
ing the accursed cause of bringing you to it 1 Sup-
pose too, in such a season, I should be summoned from
you ; could I submit to see you encounter all the haz-
ards, the fatigues of war, with me 1 you could not
yourself, however willing, support them a single cam-
paign. What then ! must 1 leave you to starve alone,
deprived of the tenderness of a husband ; deprived,
too, of the tenderness of the best of mothers, through
my means 1 a woman most dear to me, for being the
parent, the nurse, and the friend of my Amelia. But
oh, my sweet creature, carry your thoughts a little
further. Think of the tenderest consequences, the
dearest pledges of our love. Can I bear to think of
entailing beggary on the posterity of my Amelia ] on
our — oh, Heavens ! — on our children ! On the other
side, (is it possible even to mention the word 1) I will
not, must not, cannot, cannot part with you. What
must we do, Amelia 1 It is now 1 sincerely ask your
advice.'
" ' What advice can I give you,' said she, ' in such
an alternative 1 Would to Heaven we had never met !'
" These words were accompanied with a sigh, and a
look inexpressibly tender ; the tears, at the same time,
overflowing all her lovely cheeks. I was endeavouring
to reply, when I was interrupted by what soon put an
end to the scene.
" Our amour had already been buzzed all over the
town ; and it came at last to the ears of Mrs. Harris.
I had indeed observed of late a great alteration in that
lady's behaviour towards me, v/henever I visited at the
house ; nor could I, for a long time before this evening,
ever obtain a private interview with Amelia ; and now,
it seems, I owed it to her mother's intention of over-
hearing all that passed between us.
C3
58 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
"At the period then above mentioned, Mrs. Harris
burst from the closet, where she had hid herself, and
surprised her daughter, recliningr on my bosom, in all
that tender sorrow I have just described. I will not
attempt to paint the rage of the mother, or the daugh-
ter's confusion, or my own. ' Here are very fine do-
ings, indeed,' cried Mrs. Harris ; ' you have made a
noble use, Amelia, of my indulgence, and the trust I
reposed in you. As for you, Mr. Booth, I will not
accuse you ; you have used my child as I ought to have
expected ; I may thank myself for what has happened ;'
with much more of the same kind, before she would
suffer me to speak : but at last I obtained a hearing,
and offered to excuse my poor Amelia, who was ready
to sink into the earth under the oppression of grief, by
taking as much blame as 1 could on myself. Mrs.
Harris answered, ' No, sir, I must say you are innocent
in comparison of her ; nay, I can say, I have heard you
use dissuasive arguments ; and I promise you they are
of weight. I have, I thank Heaven, one dutiful child,
and I shall henceforth think her my only one.' She
then forced the poor, trembling, fainting Amelia out of
the room ; which, when she had done, she began very
coolly to reason with me on the folly, as well as ini-
quity, which I had been guilty of; and repeated to me
almost every word I had before urged to her daughter.
In fine, she at last obtained of me a promise that I
would soon go to my regiment, and submit to any misery,
rather than that of being the ruin of Amelia.
" I now, for many days, endured the greatest tor-
ments which the human mind is, I believe, capable of
feeling ; and I can honestly say, I tried all the means,
and applied every argument which I could raise, to cure
me of my love ; and to make these the more effectual,
I spent every night in walking backward and forward
in the sight of Mrs. Harris's house, where 1 never failed
to find some object or other which raised some tender
idea of my lovely Amelia, and almost drove me to dis-
traction."
*'And don't you think, sir," said Miss Matthews,
" you took a most preposterous method to cure your-
self]"
" Alas, madam," answered he, "you cannot see it in
a more absurd hght than I do ; but those know little of
real love or grief, who do not know how much we de-
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 59
ceive ourselves when we pretend to aim at the cure of
either. It is with these, as it is with some distempers
of the body-; nothing is in the least agreeable to us, but
what serves to heighten the disease.
" At the end of a fortnight, v/hen I was driven almost
to the highest degree of despair, and could contrive no
method of conveying a letter to Amelia, how was I sur-
prised, when Mrs. Harris's servant brought me a card,
with an invitation from the mother herself, to drink tea
that evening at her house !
" You will easily believe, madam, that I did not fail
so agreeable an appointment. On my arrival, 1 was
introduced into a large company of men and women,
Mrs. Harris and my Amelia being part of the com-
pany.
*' Amelia seemed, in my eyes, to look more beautiful
than ever, and behaved with all the gayety imaginable.
The old lady treated me with much civility ; but the
young lady took little notice of me, and addressed most
of her discourse to another gentleman present. In-
deed, she now and then gave me a look of no discour-
aging kind ; and I observed her colour change more
than once when her eyes met mine ; circumstances
which, perhaps, ought to have afforded me sufficient
comfort : but they could not allay the thousand doubts
and fears with which I was alarmed ; for my anxious
thoughts suggested no less to me than that Amelia had
made her peace with her mother at the price of aban-
doning me for ever, and of giving her ear to some other
lover. All my prudence now vanished at once ; and I
would that instant have gladly run away with Amelia,
and have married her without the least consideration
of any consequences.
" With such thoughts I had tormented myself for
near two hours, till most of the company had taken
their leave. This I was myself incapable of doing ;
nor do I know when I should have put an end to my
visit, had not Dr^ Harrison taken me away almost by
force, telling me, in a whisper, that he had something
to say to me of great consequence. You know the
doctor, madam f
" Very well, sir," answered Miss Matthews ; " and
one of the best men in the world he is, and an honour
to the sacred order to which he belongs."
60 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
" You will judge," replied Booth, " by the sequei,
whether I have reason to think him so." He then pro-
ceeded as in the next chapter.
Chapter VI.— The story of Mr. Booth continued. — In this chapter
the reader will perceive a glimpse of the character of a very good
divine ; with some matters of a very tender kind.
" The doctor conducted me into his study ; and then,
desiring me to sit down, began, as near as I can remem-
ber, in these words, or at least to this purpose : ' You
cannot imagine, young gentleman, that your love for
Miss Emily is any secret in this place : I have known it
some time, and have been, I assure you, very much
your enemy in this affair.' I answered, that I was very
much obliged to him.
" ' Why, so you are,' replied he : ' and so, perhaps, you
will think yourself, when you know all. I went, about
a fortnight ago, to Mrs. Harris, to acquaint her with my
apprehensions on her daughter's account ; for though the
matter was much talked of, I thought it might possibly
not have reached her ears. 1 will be very plain with
you. I advised her to take all possible care of the
young lady, and even to send her to some place where
she might be effectually kept out of your reach, while
you remained in the town.'
" ' And do you think, sir,' said I, ' that this was acting a
kind part by me 1 or do you expect that I should thank
you on this occasion V
" ' Young man,' answered he, ' I did not intend you any
kindness, nor do I desire any of your thanks. My in-
tention was to preserve a worthy lady from a young fel-
low of whom I had heard no good character, and whom
I imagined to have a design of stealing a human crea-
ture for the sake of her fortune.' ' It was very kind of
you, indeed,' answered I, 'to entertain such an opinion
of me.'
" ' Why, sir,' replied the doctor, ' it is the opinion which,
I believe, most of you young gentlemen of the order of
the rag deserve. I have known some instances, and
have heard of more, where such young fellows have
committed robbery under the name of marriage.'
" I was going to interrupt him with some anger, when
he desired me to have a little patience, and then informed
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 61
me that he had visited Mrs. Harris, with the above-
mentioned design, the evening after the discovery I have
related ; that Mrs. Harris, without waiting for his in-
formation, had recomited to him all which had happened
the evening before ; and, indeed, she must have an ex-
cellent memory, for I think she repeated every word I
said; and added, that she had confined her daughter to
her chamber, where she kept her a close prisoner, and
had not seen her since.
" I cannot express, nor would modesty suffer me if I
could, all that now passed. The doctor took me by the
hand, and burst forth into the warmest commendations
of the sense and generosity which he was pleased to
say discovered themselves in my speech. You know,
madam, his strong and singular way of expressing him-
self on all occasions, especially when he is affected with
anything. * Sir,' said he, ' if I knew half a dozen such in-
stances in the army, the painter should put red Uveries
upon all the saints in my closet.'
" From this instant, the doctor told me, he had become
my friend and zealous advocate with Mrs. Harris, on
whom he had at last prevailed, though not without the
greatest difficulty, to consent to my marrying Amelia,
upon condition that I settled every penny which the
mother should lay down ; and that she would retain a
certain sum in her hands, which she would at any time
deposite for my advancement in the army.
*' You will, 1 hope, madam, conceive that I made no
hesitation at these conditions; nor need I mention the
joy which I felt on this occasion, or the acknowledg-
ment I paid the doctor, who is, indeed, as you say, one
of the best of men.
" The next morning I had permission to visit Amelia,
who received me in such a manner that 1 now concluded
my happiness to be complete.
" Everything was now agreed on all sides, and law-
yers employed to prepare the writings, when an unex-
pected cloud arose suddenly in our serene sky, and all
our joys were obscured in a moment.
" When matters were, as I apprehended, drawing near
a conclusion, I received an express, that a sister, whom
I tenderly loved, was seized with a violent fever, and
earnestly desired me to come to her. I immediately
obeyed the summons, though it was then about two in
the morning, without staying even to take leave of
6
62 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
Amelia, for whom I left a short billet, acquainting her
with the reason of my absence.
*' The gentleman's house where my sister then was
stood at fifty miles distance ; and though 1 used the ut-
most expedition, the unmerciful distemper had, before
my arrival, entirely deprived the poor girl of her senses,
as it soon after did of her life.
*' Not all the love I bore Amelia, nor the tumultuous
delight with which the approaching hour of possessing
her filled my heart, could, for a while, allay my grief at
the loss of my beloved Nancy. Upon my soul, I cannot
yet mention her name without tears. Never brother
and sister had, I believe, a higher friendship for each
other. Poor, dear girl ! while 1 sat by her in her light-
headed fits, she repeated scarce any other name but
mine ; and it plainly appeared, that when her dear rea-
son was ravished away from her, it had left my image on
her fancy, and that the last use she had made of it was
to think on me. ' Send for my dear Billy immediately,'
she cried : ' I know he will come to me in a moment.
Will nobody fetch him to me 1 Pray, don't kill me be-
fore I see him once more : you durst not use me so if
he was here.' Every accent still rings in my ears. Oh
Heavens ! to hear this, and at the same time to see the
poor, delirious creature deriving the greatest horrors from
my sight, and mistaking me for a highwayman who had
a little before robbed her ! But I ask your pardon : the
sensations I felt are to be known only from experience,
and to you must appear dull and insipid. At last, she
seemed for a moment to know me, and cried, 'Oh
Heavens ! my dearest brother !' upon which she fell into
immediate convulsions, and died away in my arms."
Here Booth stopped a moment, and wiped his eyes ;
and Miss Matthews, perhaps out of complaisance, wiped
hers.
Chapter V.— Containing strange revolutions of Fortune.
Booth proceeded thus : —
"This loss, perhaps, madam, you will think had made
me miserable enough, but Fortune did not think so ; for
on the day when my Nancy was to be buried, a courier
arrived from Dr. Harrison with a letter, in which the
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 63
doctor acquainted me, that he was just come from Mrs.
Harris, when he despatched the express ; and earnestly-
desired me to return the very instant I received his let-
ter, as 1 valued my Amelia. ' Though if the daughter,'
added he, ' should take after her mother (as most of them
do,) it will be, perhaps, wiser in you to stay away.'
" I presently sent for the messenger into my room,
and with much difficulty extorted from him, that a great
squire in his coach and six was come to Mrs. Harris's,
and that the whole town said he was shortly to be mar-
ried to Amelia.
" I now soon perceived how much superior my love
for Amelia was to every other passion : poor Nancy's
idea disappeared in a moment : I quitted the dear life-
less corpse, over which I had shed a thousand tears ;
left the care of her funeral to others ; and posted, 1 may
almost say, flew back to Amelia, and alighted at the
doctor's house, as he had desired me in his letter.
" The good man presently acquainted me with what
had happened in my absence. Mr. Winckworth had, it
seems, arrived the very day of my departure, with a
grand equipage, and, without delay, had made formal
proposals to Mrs. Harris, offering to settle any part of
his vast estate, in whatever manner she pleased, on
Amelia. These proposals the old lady had, without any
deliberation, accepted, and had insisted, in the most
violent manner, on her daughter's compliance, which
Amelia had as peremptorily refused to give ; insisting,
on her part, on the consent which her mother had be-
fore given to our marriage, in which she was heartily
seconded by the doctor, who declared to her, as he now
did to me, that we ought as much to be esteemed man
and wife, as if the ceremony had already passed be-
tween us.
"These remonstrances, the doctor told me, had
worked no effect on Mrs. Harris, who still persisted in
her avowed resolution of marrying her daughter to
Winckworth, whom the doctor had likewise attacked,
telling him that he was paying his addresses to another
man's wife ; but all to no purpose : the young gentle-
man was too much in love to hearken to any dissua-
sives.
" We now entered into a consultation what means to
employ. The doctor earnestly protested against any
violence to be offered to the person of Winckworth,
64 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
which, I believe, I had rashly threatened ; declaring,
that if I made any attempt of that kind, he would for
ever abandon my cause. I made him a solemn promise
of forbearance. At last, he determined to pay another
visit to Mrs. Harris ; and if he found her obdurate, he
said he thought himself at liberty to join us together
without any further consent of the mother ; which every
parent, he said, had a right to refuse, but not to retract
when given, unless the party himself, by some conduct
of his, gave a reason.
" The doctor having made his visit with no better
success than before, the matter now debated was how
to get possession of Amelia by stratagem ; for she was
now a closer prisoner than ever ; was her mother's bed-
fellow by night, and never out of her sight by day.
" While we were deliberating on this point, a wine-
merchant of the town came to visit the doctor, to inform
him that he had just bottled off" a hogshead of excellent
old Port, of which he offered to spare him a hamper,
saying, that he was that day to send in twelve dozens to
Mrs. Harris.
" The doctor now smiled at a conceit which came into
his head; and, taking me aside, asked me if I had love
enough for the young lady to venture into the house in
a hamper. I joyfully leaped at the proposal, to which
the merchant, at the doctor's intercession, consented ;
for I believe, madam, you know the great authority
which that worthy man had over the whole town. The
doctor, moreover, promised to procure a license, and to
perform the office for us at his house, if I could find any
means of conveying Amelia thither.
" In this hamper then I was carried to the house, and
deposited in the entry, where I had not lain long, before
I was again removed and packed up in a cart, in order
to be sent five miles into the country ; for I heard the
orders given as I lay in the entry, and there I likewise
heard that Ameha and her mother were to follow me
the next morning.
" I was unloaded from my cart, and set down, with
the rest of the lumber, in a great hall. Here I re-
mained above three hours, impatiently waiting for the
evening, when I determined to quit a posture which was
become very uneasy, and break my prison ; but fortune
contrived to release me sooner, by the following means :
The house where 1 now was had been left in the care
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 65
of one maid-servant. This faithful creature came into
the hall, with the footman who had driven the cart. A
scene of the highest fondness having passed between
them, the fellow proposed, and the maid consented, to
open the hamper, and drink a bottle together, which
they agreed their mistress would hardly miss in sucli a
quantity. They presently began to execute their pur-
pose. They opened the hamper, and, to their great
surprise, discovered the contents.
" I took an immediate advantage of the consternation
which appeared in the countenances of both the servants,
and had sufficient presence of mind to improve the
knowledge of those secrets to which I was privy. I
told them that it entirely depended on their behaviour
to me, whether their mistress should ever be acquainted,
either with what they had done, or with what they had
intended to do ; for, that if they would keep my secret,
I would reciprocally keep theirs. 1 then acquainted
them with my purpose of lying concealed in the house,
in order to watch an opportunity of obtaining a private
interview with Amelia.
" In the situation in which these two delinquents
stood, you may be assured it was not difficult for me to
seal up their lips ; in short, they agreed to whatever I
proposed. I lay that evening in my dear Amelia's bed-
chamber, and was in the morning conveyed into an old
lumber-garret, where I was to wait till Amelia (whom
the maid promised, on her arrival, to inform of my
place of concealment) could find some opportunity of
seeing me."
" I ask pardon for interrupting you," cries Miss Mat-
thews ; " but you bring to my remembrance a foolish
story which I heard at that time, though at a great dis-
tance from you ; that an officer had, in confederacy with
Miss Harris, broken open her mother's cellar, and stole
away a great quantity of her wine. I mention it only
to show you what sort of foundations most stories
have."
Booth told her he had heard some such thing himself,
and then continued his story, as in the next chapter.
6*
66 THE HISTORY OP AMELIA.
Chapter VI. — Containing many surprising adventures.
"Here," continued he, "I remained the whole day,
in hopes of a happiness, the expected approach of
which gave me such a delight, that I would not have
exchanged my poor lodgings for the finest palace in the
universe.
" A httle after it was dark, Mrs. Harris arrived, to-
gether with Amelia and her sister. 1 cannot express
how much my heart now began to flutter ; for, as my
hopes every moment increased, strange fears, which I
had not felt before, began now to intermingle with
them.
*' When I had continued full two hours in these cir-
cumstances, I heard a woman's step tripping up stairs,
which I fondly hoped was my Amelia ; but, all on a sud-
den, the door flew open, and Mrs. Harris herself ap-
peared at it, with a countenance pale as death, her
whole body trembling, I suppose, with anger. She fell
upon me in the most bitter language. It is not neces-
sary to repeat what she said, nor indeed can I, I was so
shocked and confounded on this occasion. In a word,
the scene ended with my departing without seeing
Amelia."
" And pray," cries Miss Matthews, *' how happened
this unfortunate discovery V
Booth answered, that the lady, at supper, ordered a
bottle of wine, "which neither myself," said he, "nor
the servants, had the presence of mind to provide. Be-
ing told there was none in the house, though she had
been before informed that the things came all safe, she
had sent for the maid, who, being unable to devise any
excuse, had fallen on her knees, and after confessing
her design of opening a bottle, which she imputed to
the fellow, betrayed poor me to her mistress.
"Well, madam, after a lecture of about a quarter of
an hour's duration from Mrs. Harris, I suff'ered her to
conduct me to the outward gate of her courtyard,
whence I set forward, in a disconsolate condition of
mind, towards my lodgings. 1 had five miles to walk in
a dark and rainy night : but how can I mention these
trifling circumstances as any aggravation of my disap-
pointment V
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 67
" How was it possible," cried Miss Matthews, " that
you could be got out of the house without seeing- Miss
Harris ?" ^
"I assure you, madam," answered Booth, "I have
often wondered at it myself; but my spirits were so
much sunk at the sight of her mother, that no man was
ever a greater coward than I was at that instant. In-
deed, 1 believe my tender concern for the terrors of
Amelia was the principal cause of my submission.
However it was, I left the house, and walked about a
hundred yards, when, at the corner of the garden wall, a
female voice, in a whisper, cried out, 'Mr. Booth !' The
person was extremely near me, but it was so dark I
could scarcely see her ; nor could I, in the confusion I
was in, immediately recognise the voice. 1 answered
in a line of Congreve's, which burst from my lips
spontaneously ; for I am sure I had no intention to quote
plays at that time : —
' Who calls the wretched thing that was Alphonso?'
Upon which a woman leaped into my arms, crying out,
' Oh, it is indeed my Alphonso, my only Alphonso !'
Oh, Miss Matthews ! guess what I felt when I found I
had my Amelia in my arms. I embraced her with an
ecstasy not to be described, at the same instant pouring a
thousand tendernesses into her ears, at least, if I could
express so many to her in a minute ; for in that time the
alarm began at the house, Mrs. Harris had missed her
daughter, and the court was presently full of lights and
noises of all kinds.
" I now lifted Amelia over a gate, and, jumping after,
we crept along together by the side of a hedge, a differ-
ent way from what led to the town, as I imagined that
would be the road through which they would pursue us.
In this opinion I was right, for we heard them pass
along that road ; and the voice of Mrs. Harris herself,
who ran with the rest, notwithstanding the darkness
and the rain : by these means we luckily made our es-
cape ; and, clambering over a hedge and a ditch, my
Amelia performing the part of a heroine all the way, we
at length arrived at a little green lane, where stood a
vast spreading oak, under which we sheltered ourselves
from a violent storm.
" When this was over, and the moon began to appear,
Amelia declai*ed she knew well where she was ; and a
68 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
little farther, striking into another lane to the right, she
said, that would lead us to a house where we should be
both safe and unsuspected. I followed her directions,
and we at length came to a little cottage about three
miles distance from Mrs. Harris's house.
*'As it now rained very violently, we entered this
cottage, in which we espied a light, without any cere-
mony : here we found an elderly woman sitting by her-
self at a little fire, who had no sooner viewed us, than
she instantly sprang from her seat, and, starting back,
gave the strongest tokens of amazement ; upon which
Amelia said, ' Be not surprised, nurse, though you see
me in a strange pickle, I own.' The old woman, after
having several times blessed herself, and expressed the
most tender concern for the lady, who stood dripping
before her, began to bestir herself in making up the fire,
at the same time entreating Amelia that she might be
permitted to furnish her with some clothes, which, she
said, though not fine, were clean and wholesome, and
much dryer than her own. I seconded this motion so
vehemently, that Amelia, though she declared herself
under no apprehension of catching cold, (she has, indeed,
the best constitution in the world,) at last consented ; and
I retired without doors, under a shed, to give my angel an
opportunity of dressing herself in the only room which
the cottage afforded below stairs.
*' At my return into the room, Amelia insisted on my
exchanging my coat for one which belonged to the
old woman's son." " I am very glad," cried Miss Mat-
thews, " to find she did not forget you. 1 own I thought
it somewhat cruel to turn you out in the rain." " Oh,
Miss Matthews !" continued he, taking no notice of her
observation, " I had now an opportunity of contemplating
the vast power of exquisite beauty, which nothmg al-
most can add to or diminish. Amelia, in the poor rags
of her old nurse, looked scarce less beautiful than I have
seen her appear at a ball or an assembly." " Well,
well," cries Miss Matthews, " to be sure she did ; but
pray go on with your story."
" The old woman," continued he, " after having
equipped us as well as she could, and placed our wet
clothes before the fire, began to grow inquisitive ; and
after some ejaculations, she cried, ' Oh, my dear young
madam! my mind misgives me hugeously; and pray
who is this fine young gentleman? Oh, Miss Emmy,
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 09
Miss Emmy, I am afraid madam knows nothing of all
this matter.' ' Suppose he should be my husband,
nurse!' answered Amelia. 'Oh, good! and if he be,'
replies the nurse, ' I hope he is some great gentleman
or other, with a vast estate, and a coach and six ; for to
be sure, if an he was the greatest lord in the land, you
would deserve it all.' But why do I attempt to mimic
the honest creature 1 In short, she discovered the great-
est affection for my Amelia; with which I was much
more delighted than I was offended at the suspicions
she showed of me, or the many bitter curses which she
denounced against me, if I ever proved a bad husband to
so sweet a young lady.
" I so well improved the hint given me by Amelia,
that the old woman had no doubt of our being really
married ; and comforting herself, that if it was not as
well as it might have been, yet madam had enough for
us both, and that happiness did not always depend on
great riches, she began to rail at the old lady for having
turned us out of doors, which 1 scarce told an untruth
in asserting. And when Amelia said she hoped her
nurse would not betray her, the good woman answered,
with much warmth, ' Betray you, my dear young mad-
am ! no, that I would not, if the king would give me
all that he is worth; no, not if madam herself would
give me the great house, and the whole farm belonging
to it.'
" The good woman then went out and fetched a
chicken from the roost, which she killed, and began to
pick, without asking any questions; then summoning
her son, who was in bed, to her assistance, she began to
prepare this chicken for our supper. This she after-
ward set before us in so neat, I may almost say, elegant
a manner, that whoever would have disdained it, either
does not know the sensation of hunger, or does not de-
serve to have it gratified. Our food was attended with
some ale, which our kind hostess said she intended not
to have tapped till Christmas ; ' but,' added she, * I little
thought ever to have the honour of seeing my dear,
honoured lady in this poor place.'
" For my ov/n part, no human being was then an ob-
ject of envy to me; and even Amelia seemed to be
in pretty good spirits: she softly whispered to me,
that she perceived there might be happiness in a cot-
tage."
70 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
" A cottage !" cries Miss Matthews, sighing ; " a cot-
tage, with the man one loves, is a palace."
" When supper was ended," continued Booth, " the
good woman began to think of our further wants, and
very earnestly recommended her bed to us, saying, it
was a very neat, though homely one, and that she could
furnish us with a pair of clean sheets. She added some
persuasives, which painted my angel all over with ver-
mihon. As for myself, I behaved so awkwardly and
foolishly, and so readily agreed to Amelia's resolution
of sitting up all night, that, if it did not give the nurse
any suspicion of our marriage, it ought to have inspired
her with the utmost contempt for me.
" We both endeavoured to prevail with nurse to retire
to her own bed, but found it utterly impossible to suc-
ceed ; she thanked Heaven she understood breeding bet-
ter than that : and so well-bred was the good woman,
that we could scarce get her out of the room the whole
night. Luckily for us, we both understood French; by
means of which we consulted together, even in her pres-
ence, upon the measures we were to take in our present
exigency. At length it was resolved that I should send
a letter by this young lad, whom I have just before men-
tioned, to our worthy friend the doctor, desiring his
company at our hut ; since we thought it utterly unsafe
to venture to the town, which we knew would be in an
uproar on our account before the morning."
Here Booth made a full stop, smiled, and then said,
he was going to mention so ridiculous a distress, that
he could' scarce think of it without laughing. What
this was, the reader shall know in the next chapter.
Chapter VII.— The story of Booth continued.— More surprising ad-
ventures.
" From what trifles, dear Miss Matthews," cried Booth,
" may some of our greatest distresses arise ! Do you
not perceive I am going to tell you we had neither pen,
ink, nor paper in our present exigency "?
" A verbal message was now our only resource :
however, we contrived to deliver it in such terms, that
neither nurse nor her son could possibly conceive any
suspicion from it of the present situation of our affairs.
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 71
Indeed, Amelia whispered me, I might safely place any
degree of confidence in the lad ; for he had been her
foster-brother, and she had a great opinion of his integ-
rity. He was, in truth, a boy of very good natural parts ;
and Dr. Harrison, who had received him into his family,
at Amelia's recommendation, had bred him up to write
and read very well ; and had taken some pains to infuse
into him the principles of honesty and religion ; he was
not, indeed, even now discharged from the doctor's ser-
vice ; but had been at home with his mother for some
time, on account of the smallpox, from which he was
lately recovered.
"I have said so much," continued Booth, "of the
boy's character, that you may not be surprised at some
stories which I shall tell you of him hereafter.
" I am going now, madam, to relate to you one of
those strange accidents, which are produced by such a
train of circumstances, that mere chance has been
thought incapable of bringing them together ; and which
have, therefore, given birth, in superstitious minds, to
Fortune, and to several other imaginary beings.
" We were now impatiently expecting the arrival of
the doctor ; our messenger had been gone much more
than a sufficient time, which to us, you may be assured,
appeared not at all shorter than it was, when nurse,
who had gone out of doors on some errand, came run-
ning hastily to us, crying out, ' Oh, my dear young madam,
her ladyship's coach is just at the door !' Amelia turned
pale as death at these words ; indeed, I feared she would
have fainted, if I could be said to fear, who had scarce
any of my senses left, and was in a condition little bet-
ter than my angel's.
" While we were both in this dreadful situation, Ame-
lia fallen back in her chair, with the countenance in
which ghosts are painted, myself at her feet, with a com-
plexion of no very different colour, and nurse screaming
out, and throwing water in Amelia's face, Mrs. Harris
entered the room. At the sight of this scene, she threw
herself likewise into a chair, and called immediately for
a glass of water, which Miss Betty, her daughter, sup-
plied her with ; for, as to nurse, nothing was capable of
making any impression on her, while she apprehended
her young mistress to be in danger.
" The doctor had now entered the room ; and, coming
immediately up to Amelia, after some expressions of
72 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
surprise, he took her by the hand, called her his little
sugar-plum, and assured her there \yere none but friends
present : he then led her tottering across the room to
Mrs. Harris, Amelia then fell upon her knees before
her mother ; but the doctor caught her up, saying, ' Use
that posture, child, only to the Almighty.' But I need
not mention this singularity of his ^o you, who know
him so well, and must have heard him often dispute
against addressing ourselves to man in the humblest
posture which we use towards the Supreme Being.
" 1 will tire you with no more particulars ; we were
soon satisfied that the doctor had reconciled us and
our affairs to Mrs. Harris ; and we now proceeded di-
rectly to church, the doctor having provided a license
for us.*'
" But where is the strange accident V cries Miss Mat-
thews : " sure you have raised more curiosity than you
have satisfied."
" Indeed, madam," answered he " your reproof is just :
I had like to have forgotten it ; but you cannot wonder
at me, when you reflect on that interesting part of my
story which I am now relating. But before 1 mention
this accident, I must tell you what happened after Ame-
ha's escape from her mother's house. Mrs. Harris at
first ran out into the lane among her servants, and pur-
sued us (so she imagined) along the road leading to the
to\Mi ; but that being very dirty, and a violent storm of
rain coming on, she took shelter in an alehouse, about
half a mile from her own house, whither she sent for
her coach : she then drove, together with her daughter,
to town, where, soon after her arrival, she sent for the
doctor, her usual priv}'- counsellor in all her affairs.
They sat up all night together, the doctor endeavouring,
fcy arguments and persuasions, to bring Mrs. Harris to
reason, but all to no purpose ; though, as he has in-
formed me, Miss Betty seconded him with the warmest
entreaties."
Here Miss Matthews laughed ; of which Booth begged
to know the reason : she, at last, after many apologies,
said, it was the first good thing she ever heard of ^Nliss
Betty ; " nay," said she, " and asking your pardon for
my opinion of your sister, since you will have it, I al-
ways conceived her to be the deepest of hypocrites."
Booth fetched a sigh, and said, he was afraid she had
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 73
not always acted so kindly ; and then, after a little hesi-
tation, proceeded : —
" You will be pleased, madam, to remember, the lad
was sent with a verbal message to the doctor ; which
message was no more than to acquaint him where we
were, and to desire the favour of his company, or that
he would send a coach to bring us to whatever place he
would please to meet us at. This message was to be
dehvered to the doctor himself; and the messenger was
ordered, if he found him not at home, to go to him
wherever he was. He fulfilled his orders, and told it to
the doctor in the presence of Mrs. Harris."
" Oh, the idiot !" cries Miss Matthews. " Not at all,"
answered Booth : " he is a very sensible fellow, as you
will, perhaps, say hereafter. He had not the least reason
to suspect that any secrecy was necessary ; for we took
the utmost care that he should not suspect it. Well,
madam, this accident, which appeared so unfortunate,
turned in the highest degree to our advantage. Mrs.
Harris had no sooner heard the message delivered, than
she fell into the most violent passion imaginable, and
accused the doctor of being in the plot, and of having
confederated with me in the design of carrying off her
daughter.
" The doctor, who had hitherto used only soothing
methods, now talked in a different strain : he confessed
the accusation, and justified his conduct. He said he
was no meddler in the family affairs of others, nor should
he have concerned himself with hers but at her own re-
quest; but that since Mrs. Harris herself had made him
an agent in this matter, he would take care to acquit
himself with honour, and above all things to preserve
a young lady, for whom he had the highest esteem ; ' for
she is,' cries he (and, by Heavens, he said true) ' the most
worthy, generous, and noble of all human beings. You
have yourself, madam,' said he, ' consented to the match ;
I have at your request made the match ;' and then he
added some particulars relating to his opinion of me,
which my modesty forbids me to repeat." "Nay,
but," cries Miss Matthews, " I insist on your conquest
of that modesty for once. We women do not love to
hear one another's praises ; and I will be made amends
by hearing the praises of a man ; and of a man whom,
perhaps," added she with a leer, " I shall not think
much the better of upon that account." " In obedience
7 D
74 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
to your commands then, madam," continued he, "thg
doctor was so kind to say, he had inquired into my
character, and had found that I had been a dutiful son and
an affectionate brother j relations,- said he, in which
whoever discharges his duty well, gives us a well-
grounded hope that he will behave as properly in all the
rest. He concluded with saying that Amelia's happiness,
her heart, nay, her very reputation, were all concerned
m this matter, to which as he had been made instru-
mental, he was resolved to carry her through it; and
then, taking the license from his pocket, declared to
Mrs. Harris, that he would go that instant and marry
her daughter wherever he found her. This speech, the
doctor's voice, his look, and his behaviour, all which
are sufficiently calculated to inspire awe, and even ter-
ror when he pleases, frightened poor Mrs. Harris, and
wrought a more sensible effect than it was in his power
to produce by all his arguments and entreaties ; and I
have already related what followed.
" Thus the strange accident of our wanting pen, ink,
and paper, and our not trusting the boy with our secret,
occasioned the discovery to Mrs. Harris ; that discovery
put the doctor upon his metal ; and produced that blessed
event which I have recounted to you, and which, as my
mother has since confessed, nothing but the spirit which
he had exerted after the discovery, could have brought
about.
" Well, madam, you now see me married to Amelia ;
in which situation you will, perhaps, think my happiness
incapable of addition. Perhaps it was so ; and yet I
can with truth say, that the love which I then bore
Amelia was not comparable to what I bear her now."
" Happy Amelia !" cried Miss Matthews : " if all men
were like you, all women would be blessed ; nay, the
whole world would be so in a great measure : for, upon
my soul, I believe that from the inconstancy of your sex
to ours proceed half the miseries of mankind."
That we may give the reader leisure to consider well
the foregoing sentiment, we will here put an end to this
chapter.
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 75
Chapter VIII.— In which our readers will probably be divided in
their opinion of Mr. Booth's conduct.
Booth proceeded as follows : —
" The first month of our marriage produced nothing
remarkable enough to mention. 1 am sure I need not
tell Miss Matthews that I found in my Amelia every
perfection of human nature. Mrs. Harris at first gave
us some little uneasiness : she had rather yielded to the
doctor than given a willing consent to the match : how-
ever, by degrees, she became more and more satisfied,
and at last seemed perfectly reconciled. This we
ascribed a good deal to the kind offices of Miss Betty,
who had always appeared to be my friend. She had
been greatly assisting to Amelia in making her escape,
which I had no opportunity of mentioning to you before ;
and in all thinars behaved so well, outwardly at least, to
myself as well as to her sister, that we regarded her as
our sincerest friend.
*' About half a year after our marriage, two additional
companies were added to our regiment, in one of which
I was preferred to the command of a lieutenant. Upon
this occasion, Miss Betty gave the first intimation of a
disposition which we have since too severely experi-
enced."
*' Your servant, sir,^' says Miss Matthews : " then
I find I was not mistaken in my opinion of the lady.
No, no, show me any goodness in a censorious prude,
and—"
As Miss Matthews hesitated for a smile or an execra-
tion, Booth proceeded : " You will please to remember,
madam, there was formerly an agreement between my-
self and Mrs. Harris, that I should settle all my Amelia's
fortune on her, except a certain sum, which was to be
laid out in my advancement in the army ; but as our
marriage \vas carried on in the manner you have heard,
no such agreement was ever executed : and since I was
become Amelia's husband, not a word of this matter was
ever mentioned by the old lady ; and as for myself, I
declare I had not yet awakened from the delicious dream
of bliss in which the possession of Amelia had lulled
me." Here Miss Matthews sighed, and cast the ten-
derest of looks on Booth, who thus continued his story :—
D2
76 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
*' Soon after my promotion, Mrs. Harris one morning
took an occasion to speak to me on this affair. She
said, that as I had been promoted gratis to a lieutenancy,
she would assist me with money to carry me yet a step
higher; and if more was required than was formerly
mentioned, it should not be wanting, since she was so
perfectly satisfied with my behaviour to her daughter ;
adding, that she hoped I had still the same inclination
to settle on my wife the remainder of her fortune.
" 1 answered with very warm acknowledgments of
my mother's goodness, and declared, if I had the world,
I was ready to lay it at my Amelia's feet. And so.
Heaven knows, I would ten thousand worlds.
" Mrs. Harris seemed pleased with the warmth of my
sentiments, and said she would immediately send to her
lawyer, and give him the necessary orders ; and thus
ended our conversation on this subject.
" From this time there was a very visible alteration
in Miss Betty's behaviour. She grew reserved to her
sister as well as to me : she was fretful and captious
on the slightest occasion; nay, she affected much to
talk on the ill consequences of an imprudent marriage,
especially before her mother ; and, if ever any little
tenderness or endearments escaped me in public towards
Amelia, she never failed to make some malicious re-
mark on the short duration of violent passions ; and,
when I have expressed a fond sentiment for my wife,
her sister would kindly wish she might hear as much
seven years hence.
" All these matters have been since suggested to us
by reflection; for, while they actually passed, both
Amelia and myself had our thoughts too happily en-
gaged to take notice of what discovered itself in the
mind of any other person.
" Unfortunately for us, I\Irs. Harris's lawyer hap-
pened at this time to be in London, where business
detained him upwards of a month ; and as Mrs. Harris
would on no occasion employ any other, our affair was
under an entire suspension till his return.
*' Amelia, who was now big with child, had often ex-
pressed the deepest concern at her apprehensions of my
being some time commanded abroad ; a circumstance
which, she declared, if it should ever happen to her,
even though she should not then be in the same situa-
tion as at present, would infallibly break her heart.
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 77
These remonstrances were made with such tenderness,
and so much affected me, that, to avoid any probabihty
of such an event, I endeavoured to get an exchange
into the horse-guards, a body of troops which very
rarely goes abroad, unless where the king himself com-
mands in person. I soon found an officer for my pur-
pose ; the terms were agreed on ; and Mrs. Harris had
ordered the money, which I was to pay, to be ready,
notwithstanding the opposition made by Miss Betty, who
openly dissuaded her mother from it; alleging that that
exchange was highly to my disadvantage ; that I could
never hope to rise in the army after it ; not forgetting,
at the same time, some insinuations very prejudicial to
my reputation as a soldier.
" When everything was agreed on, and the two com-
missions were actually made out, but not signed by the
king, one day, at my return from hunting, Amelia flew
to me, and, eagerly embracing me, cried out, ' Oh, Billy !
I have news for you which delights my soul. Nothing,
sure, was ever so fortunate as the exchange you have
made : the regiment you was formerly in is ordered for
Gibraltar.'
*' I received this news with far less transport than it
was delivered. I answered, coldly, ' Since the case
was so, I heartily hoped the commissions might be
both signed.' * What do you say?' replied Amelia,
eagerly ; ' sure you told me everything was entirely set-
tled. That look of yours frightens me to death.' But
1 am running into too minute particulars ; in short, I
received a letter by that very post, from the officer
with whom 1 had exchanged, insisting, that though his
majesty had not signed the commissions, that still the
bargain was valid ; partly urging it as a right, and partly
desiring it as a favour, that he might go to Gibraltar in
my room.
" This letter convinced me in every point. I was
now informed that the commissions were not signed,
and, consequently, that the exchange was not com-
pleted : of consequence, the other could have no right
to insist on going; and, as for granting him such a
favour, I too clearly saw I must do it at the expense
of my honour. I was now reduced to a dilemma, the
most dreadful which I think any man can experience ;
in which, I am not ashamed to own, I found love was
not so overmatched by honour as he ought to have
7*
78 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
been. The thoughts of leaving Amelia in her present
condition, to misery, perhaps to death or madness, were
insupportable ; nor could any other consideration but
that which now tormented me on the other side, have
combated them a moment."
" No woman upon earth," cries Miss Matthews, " can
despise want of spirit in a man more than myself; and
yet, I cannot help thinking you was rather too nice on
this occasion."
"You will allow, madam," answ^ered Booth, "that
whoever offends against the laws of honour, in the least
instance, is treated as the highest dehnquent. Here is
no excuse, no pardon ; and he does nothing who leaves
anything undone. But, if the conflict was so terrible
with myself alone, what was my situation in the pres-
ence of Amelia 1 How could I support her sighs, her
tears, her agonies, her despair ] Could I bear to think
myself the cruel cause of her suflferings 1 for so I was.
Could I endure the thought of having it in my power to
give her instant relief (for so it was) and refuse it her ?
" Miss Betty was now again become my friend. vShe
had scarce been civil to me for a fortnight last past, yet
now she commended me to the skies, and as severely
blamed her sister, whom she arraigned of the most con-
temptible weakness, in preferring my safety to my
honour. She said many ill-natured things on the oc-
casion, which I shall not now repeat.
" In the midst of this hurricane, the good doctor came
to dine with Mrs. Harris, and at my desire delivered his
opinion on the matter."
Here Mr. Booth was interrupted in his narrative, by
the arrival of a person, whom we shall introduce in the
next chapter.
Chapter IX. — Containing a scene of a different kind from any of
the preceding.
The gentleman who now arrived was the keeper, or,
if you please, (for so he was pleased to call himself,)
the governor of the prison.
He used so little ceremony at his approach, that the
bolt, which was very slight on the inside, gave way, and
the door immediately flew open. He had no sooner
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 79
entered the room, than he acquainted Miss Matthews
that he had brought her very good news, for which he
demanded a bottle of wine as his due.
This demand being complied with, he acquainted
Miss Matthews that the wounded gentleman was not
dead, nor was his wound thought ^o be mortal ; that
loss of blood, and, perhaps, his fright, had occasioned
his fainting away; "but I believe, madam," said he,
" if you take the proper measures, you may be bailed
to-morrow. I expect the lawyer here this evening;
and if you put the business into his hands, I warrant
it will be done. Money, to be sure, must be parted
with, that's to be sure. People, to be sure, will expect
to touch a little in such cases. For my own part, 1
never desire to keep a prisoner longer than the law al-
lows, not I : I always inform them they can be bailed
as soon as I know it. 1 never make any bargain, not
I ; I always love to leave those things to the gentlemen
and ladies themselves. I never suspect gentlemen and
ladies of wanting generosity."
Miss Matthews made a very slight answer to all these
friendly professions. She said she had done nothing
she repented of, and was indifferent as to the event.
"All I can say," cries she "is, that if the wretch is
alive, there is no greater villain in life than himself :"
and, instead of mentioning anything of the bail, she
begged the keeper to leave her again alone with Mr.
Booth. The keeper replied, " Nay, madam, perhaps it
may be better to stay a little longer here, if you have
not bail ready, than to buy them too dear. Besides, a
day or two hence, when the gentleman is past all danger
of recovery, to be sure some folks, that would expect an
extraordinary fee now, cannot expect to touch anything ;
and, to be sure, you shall want nothing here. The best
of all things are to be had here for money, both eatable
and drinkable ; though I say it, I sha'n't turn my back
to any of the taverns for either eatables or wine. The
captain there need not have been so shy of owning him-
self when he first came in : we have had captains and
other great gentlemen here before now ; and no shame
to them, though I say it. Many a great gentleman is
sometimes found in places that don't become them half
so well, let me tell them that, Captain Booth, let me
tell them that."
*' I see, sir," answered Booth, a little discomposed
80 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
" that you are acquainted with my title as well as my
name."
" Ay, sir," cries the keeper, " and I honour you the
more for it. 1 love the gentlemen of the army. I was
in the army myself formerly, in the Lord of Oxford's
horse. It is true I rode private ; but 1 had money
enough to have bought in quartermaster, when 1 took
it into my head to marry ; and my wife she did not like
that I should continue a soldier; she was all for a pri-
vate life; and so I came to this business."
"Upon my word, sir," answered Booth, " you con-
sulted your wife's inclinations very notably : but, pray,
will you satisfy my curiosity in telling me how you
became acquainted that I was in the army ; for my
dress, I think, could not betray me."
" Betray ]" replied tiie keeper ; " there is no betraying
here, 1 hope : 1 am not a person to betray people. But
you are so shy and peery, you would aimo.st make one
suspect there was more in the matter; and, if there be,
I promise you, you need not be afraid of telling it me.
You will excuse me giving you a hint; but the sooner
the better, that's all : others may be beforehand with
you, and first come first served on these occasions,
that's all. Informers are odious, there's no doubt of
that, and no one would care to be an informer if he
could help it, because of the ill usage they always re-
ceive from the mob ; yet it is dangerous to trust too
much: and when safety and a good part of the reward
too are on one side, and the gallows on the other — I
know which a wise man would choose."
" What the devil do you mean by all this V cries
Booth. " No offence, 1 hope," answered the keeper : "I
speak for your good ; and if you have been upon the
snaffling lay — you understand me, I am sure." — " Not
1," answered Booth, " upon my honour."
" Nay, nay," replied the keeper, with a contemptuous
sneer, " if you are so peery as that comes to, you must
take the consequences ; but for my part, 1 know I
would not trust ii(;biijson with twopence untold." —
" What do you mean V cries Booth : " who is liobinson V
" And you don't know Robinson !" answered the keeper
with great emotion; to which Booth replying in the
negative, the keeper, after some tokens of amazement,
cried out, " Well, captain, I must say you are the best
at it, of all the gentlemen I ever saw. However, I will
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 81
tell you this ; the lawyer and Mr. Robinson have been
laying their heads together about you above half an
hour this afternoon. I overheard them mention Captain
Booth several times ; and, for my part, I would not
answer that Mr. Murphy is not now gone about the busi-
ness ; but, if you will impeach any to me of the road,
or anything else, I will step away to his worship
Thrasher this instant, and I am sure I have interest
enough with him to get you admitted an evidence."
" And so," cries Booth, " you really take me for a
highwayman V *' No oifence, captain, I hope," said the
keeper: " as times go, there are many worse men in the
world than those. Gentlemen may be driven to dis-
tress ; and when they are, I know no more genteeler
way than the road : it has been many a brave man's
case, to my knowledge, and men of as much honour too
as any in the world." " Well, sir," said Booth, " 1 do
assure you I am not that gentleman of honour you
imagine me."
Miss Matthews, who had long understood the keeper
no better than Mr. Booth, no sooner heard his meaning
explained, than she was fired with greater indignation
than the gentleman had expressed. " How dare you,
sir," said she to the keeper, " insult a man of fashion,
and who has had the honour to bear his majesty's com-
mission in the army, as you yourself own you know ?
If his misfortunes have sent him hither, sure we have
no laws that will protect such a fellow as you in insult-
ing him !" " Fellow !" muttered the keeper : " I would
not advise you madam, to use such language to me."
" Do you dare threaten me V replied Miss Matthews in a
rage. " Venture in the least instance to exceed your
authority with regard to me, and I will prosecute you
with the utmost vengeance."
A scene of very high altercation now ensued, till
Booth interposed, and quieted the keeper, who was,
perhaps, enough inclined to an accommodation ; for,
in truth, he waged unequal war. He was besides un-
willing to incense Miss Matthews, whom he expected
to be bailed out the next day, and who had more money
left than he intended she should carry out of the prison
with her ; and, as for any violent or unjustifiable methods,
the lady had discovered much too great a spirit to be in
danger of them. The governor, therefore, in a very
gentle tone, declared, that if he had given any oifence
D 3
82 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
to the gentleman, he heartily asked his pardon ; that if
he had known him to be really a captain, he should not
have entertained any such suspicions ; but the captain
was a very common title in that place, and belong-ed to
several gentleman that had never been in the army, or,
at most, had rid private like himself. " To be sure, cap-
tain," said he, " as you yourself own, your dress is not
very military ;'' (for he had on a plain fustian suit ;) " and,
besides, as the lawyer says, nosatur a sosu- is a very
good rule : and I don't believe there is a greater rascal
upon earth than that same Robinson that 1 was talking
of. Nay, 1 assure you, I wish there maj' be no mischief
hatching against you: but if there is, I will do all I can
with the lawyer to prevent it. To be sure, Mr. Murphy
is one of the cleverest men in the world at the law ;
that even his enemies must own ; and as I recommend
him to all the business 1 can, (and it is not a little, to be
sure, that arises in this place,) why one good turn de-
serves another ; and I may expect that he will not be
concerned in any plot to ruin any friend of mine, at
least, when 1 desire him not. 1 am sure he could not
be an honest man if he would."
Booth was then satisfied that Mr. Robinson, whom
he did not yet know by name, was the gamester who
had won his money at play. And now. Miss Matthews,
who had very impatiently borne this long interruption,
prevailed on the keeper to withdraw. As soon as he
was gone, Mr. Booth began to felicitate her upon the
news of the wounded gentleman being in a fair likeli-
hood of recovery. To which, after a short silence, she
answered, •' There is something, perhaps, which you
will not easily guess, that makes your congratulation
more agreeable to me than the first account 1 heard of
the villain's having escaped the fate he deserves ; for, I
do assure you, at first, it did not make me amends for
the interruption of my curiosity. Now 1 hope we
shall be disturbed no more till you have finished your
whole story. You left off, I think, somewhere in the
struggle about leaving Amelia, the happy Amelia."
" And can you call her happy at such a period V cries
Booth. " Happy, ay, happv, in any situation," answered
Miss Matthews, " with such a husband. I, at least, may
well think so, who have experienced the very reverse
of her fortune ; but I was not born to be happy. I
may say, with the poet —
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 83
' The blackest ink of fate was sure my lot ;
And when fate wrote my name, it made a blot.' "
" Nay, nay, dear Miss Matthews," answered Booth,
" you must and shall banish such gloomy thoughts.
Fate has, I hope, many happy days in store for you."
" Do you believe it, Mr. Booth V replied she : " indeed
you know the contrary. You must know — for you can't
have forgot. No Amelia in the world can have quite ob-
literated— forgetfulness is not in our own power. If it
was, indeed, I have reason to think — But I know not
what I am saying. Pray do proceed in that story."
Booth so immediately complied with this request,
that it is possible he was pleased with it. To say the
truth, if all which unwittingly dropped from JMiss Mat-
thews was put together, some conclusions might, it
seems, be drawn from the whole, which could not convey
a very agreeable idea to a constant husband. Booth,
therefore, proceeded to relate what is written in the
third book of this history.
BOOK III.
Chapter I. — In which Mr. Booth resumes his story.
" If I am not mistaken, madam," continued Booth, " I
was just going to acquaint you with the doctor's opinion,
when we were interrupted by the keeper.
" The doctor, having heard counsel on both sides, that
is to say, Mrs. Harris for my staying, and Miss Betty for
my going, at last dehvered his own sentiments. As for
Amelia, she sat silent, drowned in her tears ; nor was I
myself in a much better situation.
" ' As the commissions are not signed,' said the doctor,
* I think you may be said to remain in your former regi-
ment : and therefore, I think you ought to go on this
expedition ; your duty to your king and country, whose
bread you have eaten, requires it ; and this is a duty of
too high a nature to admit the least deficiency : regard
to your character likewise requires you to go ; for the
world, which might justly blame your staying at home,
if the case was even fairly stated, will not deal so hon-
84 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
estly by you : you must expect to have every circum-
stance against you heightened, and most of what makes
for your defence omitted ; and thus you will be stigma-
tized as a coward, without any palliation. As the ma-
licious disposition of mankind is too well known, and
the cruel pleasure which they take in destroying the
reputations of others, the use we are to make of this
knowledge is to afford no handle to reproach : for, bad
as the world is, it seldom falls on any man who has not
given some slight cause for censure, though this, per-
haps, is often aggravated ten thousand fold ; and, when
we blame the malice of the aggravation, we ought not
to forget our own imprudence in giving the occasion.
Remember, my boy, your honour is at stake ; and you
know how nice the honour of a soldier is in these cases.
This is a treasure, which he must be your enemy indeed
who would attempt to rob you of; therefore, you ought
to consider every one as your enemy, who, by desiring
you to stay, would rob you of your honour.'
" ' Do you hear that, sister V cries Miss Betty. ' Yes,
T do hear it,' answered Amelia, with more spirit than
I ever saw her exert before ; ' and would preserve his
honour at the expense of my life. I will preserve it if
it should be at that expense ; and since it is Dr. Harri-
son's opinion that he ought to go, I give my consent.
Go, my dear husband,' cried she, falling upon her
knees : ' may every angel of heaven guard and pre-
serve you !' I cannot repeat her words without being
affected," said he, wiping his eyes : " the excellence of
that woman, no words can paint. Miss Matthews, she
has every perfection in human nature.
" I will not tire you with the repetition of any more
that passed on that occasion, nor with the quarrel that
ensued between Mrs. Harris and the doctor ; for the
old lady could not submit to my leaving her daughter
in her present condition. She fell severely on the
army, and cursed the day in which her daughter was
married to a soldier, not sparing the doctor for having
had some share in the match. I will omit, likewise, the
tender scene which passed between Amelia and myself
previous to my departure."
" Indeed, 1 beg you would not," cries Miss Mat-
thews : " nothing delights me more than scenes of ten-
derness. I should be glad to know, if possible, every
syllable which was uttered on both sides."
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 85
*' I will indulge you, then," cries Booth, " as far as it
is in my power. Indeed, 1 believe I am able to recol-
lect much the greater part ; for the impression is never
to be effaced from my memory."
He then proceeder'. i--. Miss Matthews desired; but,
lest our readers shour' iiot be of her opinion, we will,
according to our usual custom, endeavour to accommo-
date ourselves to every taste ; and shall therefore place
this scene in a chapter by itself, v^hich we desire all our
readers, who do not love, or who, perhaps, do not know
the pleasure of tenderness, to pass over ; since they may
do this withe L'.t any prejudice to the thread of the nar-
rative.
Chapter II. — Containing a scene of the tender kind.
*' The doctor, madam," continued Booth, " spent his
evening at Mrs. Harris's house, where I sat with him
w^hile he smoked his pillow-pipe, as his phrase is.
Amelia was retired above half an hour to her chamber,
before I went to see her. At my entrance 1 found her
on her knees, a posture in which I never disturbed her :
in a few minutes she arose, came to me, and, embracing
me, said she had been praying for resolution to support
the cruellest moments she had undergone, or could pos-
sibly undergo. I reminded 5^er how much more bitter
a farewell would be on a deathbed, when we never
could meet, in this world at least, again. I then en-
deavoured to lessen all those objects which alarmed her
most, and particularly the danger I was to encounter ;
upon which head I seemed a little to comfort her : but
the probable length of my absence, and the certain
length of my voyage, w^ere circumstances which no or-
atory of mine could even palliate. ' Oh Heavens !' said
she, bursting into tears, ' can I bear to think that hun»
dreds, thousands, for aught I know, of miles or leagues ;
that lands and seas are between us 1 What is the pros-
pect from that mount in our garden, where I have sat
so many happy hours with my Billy ] what is the dis-
tance between that and the farthest hill which we see
from thence, compared to the distance which will be
between us 1 You cannot wonder at this idea : you
must remember, my Billy, at this place, this very
8
86 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
thought came formerly into my foreboding mind. I
then begged you to leave the army : why would you not
comply ] Did 1 not tell you then, that the smallest cot-
tage we could survey from the mount, would be with
you a paradise to me 1 It would be so still. Why can't
my Billy think so 1 Am I so much his superior in love 1
Where is the dishonour, Billy ? or, if there be any, will
it reach our ears in our little hut ? Are glory and
fame, and not his Amelia, the happiness of my husband 1
Go, then, purchase them at my expense ! You will pay
a few sighs, perhaps a few tears, at parting, and then
new scenes will drive away the thoughts of poor Ame-
lia from your bosom : but what assistance shall I have
in my affliction "? not that any change of scene could
drive you one moment from my remembrance ; yet here
every object I behold will place your loved idea in the
liveliest manner before my eyes. This is the bed in
which you have reposed ; that is the chair in which you
sat ; upon these boards you have stood ; these books
you have read to me. Can I walk among our beds of
flowers, without viewing your favourites — nay, those
which you have planted with your own hands 1 Can I
see one beauty from our beloved mount, which you have
not pointed out to me V Thus she went on, the woman,
madam, you see, still prevailing." " Since you mention
it," says Miss Matthews, with a smile, " I own the same
observation occurred to me. It is too natural to us to
consider ourselves only, Mr. Booth." " You shall
hear," he cried : "at last, the thoughts of her present
condition suggested themselves. ' But if,' said she, ' my
situation, even in health, will be so intolerable, how
shall I, in the danger and agonies of childbirth, support
your absence V Here she stopped, and, looking on me
with all the tenderness imaginable, cried out, 'And
am I then such a wretch to wish for your presence
at such a season 1 ought I not to rejoice that you are
out of the hearing of my cries or the knowledge of
my pains ? if I die, will you not have escaped the hor-
rors of a parting, ten thousand times more dreadful
than this 1 Go, go, my Billy : the very circumstance
which made me most dread your departure, has per-
fectly reconciled me to it. I perceive clearly now that
I was only wishing to support my own weakness with
your strength, and to relieve my own pains at the price
of yours. Believe me, my love, I am ashamed of my-
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 87
self.' I caught her in my arms with wiptures not to
be expressed in words, calling her my heroine ; (sure
none ever better deserved that name ;) after which we
remained for some time speechless and locked in each
other's embraces." " 1 am convinced," said Miss Mat-
lews, with a sigh, " there are moments in Ufe worth
■urchasing with worlds."
" At length the fatal morning came : I endeavoured
to hide every pang of my heart, and to wear the utmost
gayety in my countenance. Amelia acted the same
part. In these assumed characters we met the family
at breakfast; at their breakfast, I mean; for we were
both full already. The doctor had spent above an hour
that morning in discourse with Mrs. Harris, and had, in
some measure, reconciled her to my departure. He
now made use of every art to relieve the poor, distressed
Amelia; not by inveighing against the folly of grief, or
by seriously advising her not to grieve ; both which
were sufficiently performed by Miss Betty. The doctor,
on the contrary, had recourse to every means which
might cast a veil over the idea of grief, and raise com-
fortable images in my angel's mind. He endeavoured
to lessen the supposed length of my absence, by dis-
coursing on matters which were more distant in time.
He said, he intended next year to rebuild a part of his
parsonage-house ; and you, captain, says he, shall lay
the corner-stone, I promise you ; with many other in-
stances of the like nature, which produced, I believe,
some good effect on us both.
"Amelia spoke but little; indeed, more tears than
words dropped from her ; however, she seemed re-
solved to bear her affliction with resignation : but when
the dreadful news arrived that the horses were ready,
and I, having taken my leave of all the rest, at last ap-
proached her, she was unable to support the conflict
with nature any longer ; and, clinging round my neck,
she cried, ' Farewell — farewell for ever ! for I shall never,
never see you more.' At which words the blood entirely
forsook her lovely cheeks, and she became a hfeless
corpse in my arms.
" Amelia continued so long motionless, that the doc-
tor, as well as Mrs. Harris, began to be under the most
terrible apprehensions, so they informed me afterward ;
for at that time I was incapable of making any observa-
tion. I had, indeed, very little more use of my senses
88 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
than the dear creature whom I supported. At length,
however, we were all delivered from our fears ; and life
again visited the loveliest mansion that human nature
ever afforded it.
" I had been, and yet was, so terrified with what had
happened, and Amelia continued yet -so weak and ill,
that I determined, whatever might be the consequence,
not to leave her that day ; which resolution she was no
sooner acquainted with, than she fell on her knees, cry-
ing, ' Good Heaven ! I thank thee for this reprieve at
least. Oh that every hour of my future life could be
crammed into this dear day !'
" Our good friend the doctor remained with us : he
said, he had intended to visit a family in some affliction;
* but I don't know,' says he, ' why I should ride a dozen
miles after affliction, when we have enough here.' Of
all mankind the doctor is the best ot couiforters. As
his excessive good-nature makes him take vast delight
m the office, so his great penetration into the human
mind, joined to his great experience, renders him the
most wonderful proficient in it ; and he so well knows
when to sooth, when to reason, and when to ridicule,
that he never applies any of those arts improperly,
which is almost universally ihe case with the physi-
cians of the mind, and which it requires very great
judgment and dexterity to avoid.
" The doctor principally applied himself to ridiculing
the dangers of the siege, in which he succeeded so well,
that he sometimes forced a smile even into the face of
Amelia. But what most comforted her, was the argu-
ments he used to convince her of the probability of my
speedy, if not immediate return. He said, the general
opinion was, that the place would be taken before our
arrival there ; in which case, we should have nothing
more to do than to make the best of our v/ay home
again.
" Amelia was so lulled by these arts, that she passed
the day much better than I expected. Though the
doctor could not make pride strong enough to conquer
love, yet he exalted the former to make some stand
against the latter; insomuch, that my poor Amelia, I
believe, more than once flattered herself, to speak the
language of the world, that her reason had gained an
entire victory over her passion ; till love brought up a
fHE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 89
re-enforcement, if I may use that term, of tender ideas,
and bore down all before him.
"In the evening, the doctor and I passed another
half hour together, when he proposed to me to endeav-
our to leave Amelia asleep in the m.orning, and prom-
ised me to be at hand when she awaked, and to support
her with all the assistance in his power : he added, that
nothing was more foolish than for friends to take leave
of each other. ' It is true indeed,' says he, ' in the com-
mon acquaintance and friendship of the world, this is a
very harmless ceremony; but between two persons
who really love each other, the church of Rome never
invented a penance half so severe as this, which we
absurdly impose on ourselves.'
" I greatly approved the doctor's proposal, thanked
him, and promised, if possible, to put it in execution.
He then shook me by the hand, and heartily wished me
well, saying, in his blunt way, ' Well, boy, I hope to see
thee crowned with laurels at thy return : one comfort I
have at least, that stone walls and a sea will prevent
thee from running away.'
" When I had left the doctor, I repaired to my Amelia,
whom I found in her chamber, employed in a very dif-
ferent manner from what she had been the preceding
night : she was busy in packing up some trinkets in a
casket, which she desired me to carry with me. This
casket was her own work, and she had just fastened it
as I came to her.
" Her eyes very plainly discovered what had passed
while she was engaged in her work : however, her
countenance was now serene, and she spoke, at least,
with some cheerfulness ; but, after some time, ' You
must take care of this casket, Billy,' said she; * you
must, indeed, Billy — for' — here passion almost choked
her, till a flood of tears gave her relief, and then she
proceeded — ' for I shall be the happiest woman that
ever was born when I see it again.' I told her, with the
blessing of God, that day would soon come. ' Soon?'
answered she : ' no, Billy, not soon ; a week is an age :
but yet the happy day may come. It shall, it must, it
will ! Yes, Billy, we shall meet never to part again ;
even in this world, I hope.' Pardon my weakness,
Miss Matthews ; but, upon my soul, I cannot help it,"
cried he, wiping his eyes. " Well, I wonder at your
patience, and I will try it no longer. Amelia, tired out
90 THE HISTORY OP AMELIA.
with so long a struggle between a variety of passions*
and having not closed her eyes "iuring three successive
nights, towards the morning fell into a profound sleep,
in which sleep 1 left her ; and having dressed myself
with all the expedition imaginable, singing, whistlings
hurrying, atten»pting, by every method, to banish thought)
I mounted my horse, which I had over night ordered to
be ready, and galloped away from that house where all
my treasure was deposited.
"Thus, madam, 1 have, in obedience to your com-
mands, run through a scene, which, if it has been tire^
some to you, you must yet acquit me of having obtruded
upon you : this I am convinced of, that no one is capable
Cf tasting such a scene who has not a heart full of ten^
derness, and perhaps not even then, unless he has been
in the same situation."
Chapter III. — In which Mr. Booth sets forward on his journey.
" Well, madam, we have now taken our leave of
Amelia. I rode a full mile before I once suffered my-
self to look back ; but now, being come to the top of a
little hill, the last spot I knew which could give me a
prpspect of Mrs. Harris's house, my resolution failed:
I stopped and cast my eyes backward. Shall I tell you
what I felt at that instant ! I do assure you I am not
able. So many tender ideas crowded at once into my
mind, that, if I may use the expression, they almost dis-
solved my heart. And now, madam, the most unfor-
tunate accident came first into my head : this was, that
I had, in the hurry and confusion, left the dear casket
behind me. The thought of going back at first sug-
gested itself; but the consequences of that were too
apparent ; I therefore resolved to send my man, and in
the mean time to ride on softly on my road. He im-
mediately executed my orders; and after some time
feeding my eyes with that delicious and yet heartfelt
prospect, I at last turned my horse to descend the hill,
and proceeded about a hundred yards, when, consider-
ing with myself that I should lose no time by a second
indulgence, I again turned back, and once more feasted
my sight with the same painful pleasure, till my man
tetwrned* bringing me the casket, and an account that
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 91
Amelia still continued in the sweet sleep I left her. 1
now suddenly turned my horse for the last time, and
with the utmost resolution pursued my journey.
" I perceived my man, at his return— but before I
mention anything of him, it may be proper, madam, to
acquaint you who he was ; he was the foster-brother of
my Amelia. This young fellow had taken it into his
head to go into the army ; and he was desirous to serve
under my command. The doctor consented to discharge
him. ; his mother at last yielded to liis importunities ;
and I was very easily prevailed on to list one of the hand-
somest young fellows in England.
" You will easily believe I had somehttle partiality to
one whose milk Amelia had sucked ; but, as he had never
seen the regiment, I had no opportunity to show him
any great mark of favour : indeed, he waited on me as my
servant, and I treated him with all the tenderness which
tian be used to one in that station.
" When I was about to change into the horse-guards,
the poor fellow began to droop, fearing that he should
no longer be in the same corps with me, though certainly
that would not have been the case. However, he had
never mentioned one word of his dissatisfaction. He is
indeed a fellow of a noble spirit : but when he heard
that I was to remain where I was, and that we were to
go to Gibraltar together, he fell into transports of joy,
little short of madness. In short, the poor fellow had
imbibed a very strong affection for me, though this was
what I knew nothing of till long after.
" When he returned to me then, as I was saying, with
the casket, I observed his eyes all over blubbered with
tears. I rebuked him a little too rashly on this occa-
sion. ' Heyday !' says I, ' what is the meaning of this ? I
hope I have not a milksop with me ! If I thought you
would show such a face to the enemy, I would leave you
behind.' ' Your honour need not fear that,' answered he ;
' I shall find nobody there that I shall love well enough to
make me cry.' 1 was highly pleased with this answer,
in which I thought I could discover both sense and
spirit. I then asked him what had occasioned those tears
since he had left me, for he had no sign of any at that
time : and whether he had seen his mother at Mrs.
Harris's. He answered in the negative, and begged that
I would ask him no more questions ; adding, that he wa^
92 THE HISTORY OP AMELIA.
not very apt to cry, and he hoped he should never give me
such another opportunity of blaming him. I mention
this only as an instance of his affection towards me ; for
I never could account for those tears any otherwise than
by placing them to the account of that distress in which
he left me at that time. We travelled full forty miles
that day without baiting, when, arriving at the inn where
I intended to rest that night, I retired immediately to
my chamber with my dear Amelia's casket, the opening
of which was the nicest repast, and to which every other
hunger gave way.
"It is impossible to mention to you all the little mat-
ters with which Amelia had furnished this casket : it
contained medicines of all kinds, which her mother, who
was the Lady Bountiful of that country, had supplied her
with. The most valuable of all to me was a lock of her
dear hair, which I have, from that time to this, worn in
my bosom. What would I have then given for a little
picture of my dear angel, which she had lost from her
chamber about a month before, and which we had the
highest reason in the world to imagine her sister had
taken away ! for the suspicion lay only between her and
Amelia's maid, who was, of all creatures, the honestest,
and whom her mistress had often trusted with things of
much greater value ; for the picture, which was set in
gold, and had two or three little diamonds round it, was
w^orth about twelve guineas only ; whereas Amelia left
jewels in her care of much greater value."
" Sure," cries Miss Matthews, *' she could not be such
a paltry pilferer !"
'• Not on account of the gold or the jewels," cries
Booth : " we imputed it to mere spite, with which I
assure you she abounds ; and she knew, that next to
Amelia herself, there was nothing which I valued so
much as this little picture ; for such a resemblance did
it bear of the original, that Hogarth himself did never, I
believe, draw a stronger likeness. Spite, therefore,
was the only motive to this cruel depredation ; and, in-
deed, her behaviour on the occasion sufficiently con-
vinced us both of the justice of our suspicion, though
we neither of us durst accuse her; and she herself had
the assurance to insist very strongly (though she could
not prevail) with Amelia, to turn away her innocent
maid, saying, she would not live in the house with a
thief."
Hl£j lli;51VJltX Ur AiMliLilA.
Vii
Miss Matthews now discharged some curses on Miss
Betty, not much worth repeating, and then Mr. Booth
proceeded in his relation.
Chapter IV'. — A sea-piece.
" The next day we joined the regiment, whicli was
soon after to embark. Nothing but mirth and jolhty
were in the countenance of every officer and soldier ;
and, as I now met several friends whom I had not seen
for above a year before, I passed several happy hours,
in which poor Amelia's image seldom obtruded itself to
mtqrruptj my pleasure. To confess the truth, dear Miss
Matthefys, the tenderest of passions is capable of subsi-
ding ;;,n9r is absence from our dearest friends so insup-
porti^t»fQ,as it may at first appear. Distance of time and
place dpes really cure what it seems to aggravate ; and
taking leave of our friends resembles taking leave of
the world ; concerning which it hath been often said^
that it is not death, but dying, which is terrible." Here
Miss Matthews burst into a fit of laughter, and cried,
" I sincerely ask your pardon ; but I cannot help laugh-
ing at the gravity of your philosophy." Booth answered,
that the doctrine of the passions had been always his
favourite study ; that he was convinced every man
acted entirely from that pastion which was uppermost.
" Can I then think," said he, " without entertaining the
utmost contempt for myself, that any pleasure upon earth
could drive the thoughts of Amelia one instant from my
mind ?
" At length we embarked on board a transport, and
sailed for Gibraltar ; but the wind, which was at first
fair, soon chopped about; so that we were obliged, for
several days, to beat to windward, as the sea-phrase is.
During this time, the taste which I had of a seafaring
life did not appear extremely agreeable : we rolled up
and down in a little narrow cabin, in which were three
officers, all of us extremely seasick ; our sickness being
much aggravated by the motion of the ship, by the view
of each other, and by the stench of the men. But this
was but a httle taste, indeed, of the misery which was to
follow ; for we were got about six leagues to the west-
ward of Scilly, when a violent storm arose at northeast,
94 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
which soon raised the waves to the height of mountains.
The horror of this is not to be adequately described to
those who have never seen the hke. The storm began in
the evening; and, as the clouds brought on the night
apace, it was soon entirely dark ; nor had we, during many
hours, any other light than what was caused by the jar-
ring elements, which frequently sent forth flashes, or
rather streams of fire ; and, while these presented the
most dreadful objects to our eyes, the roaring of the
winds, the dashing of the waves against the ship and
each other, formed a sound altogether as horrible for
our ears ; while our ship, sometimes lifted up as it were
to the skies, and sometimes sw ept away at once as into
the lowest abyss, seemed to be the sport of the winds
and seas. The captain himself almost gave all for lost,
and expressed his apprehension of being inevitably cast
on the rocks of Scilly, and beat to pieces. And now,
while some on board were addressing themselves to
the Supreme Being, and others applying for comfort to
strong liquors, my whole thoughts were entirely en-
gaged by my Amelia. A thousand tender ideas crowded
into my mind. I can truly say, that 1 had not a single
consideration about myseff, in which she was not con-
cerned: dying to me was leaving her; and the fear of
never seeing her more was a dagger stuck in my heart.
Again, all the terrors with which this storm, if it reached
her ears, must fill her gentle mind on my account, and
the agonies which she must undergo, w^hen she heard of
my fate, gave me such intolerable pangs, that I now re-
pented my resolution, and wished (I own I wished) that
1 had taken her advice, and preferred love and a cottage
to all the dazzling charms of honour.
" While I was tormenting myself with those medita-
tions, and had concluded myself as certainly lost, the
master came into the cabin, and, with a cheerful voice,
assured us that w^e had escaped the danger, and that we
had certainly passed to the westward of the rock. This
was comfortable news to all present ; and my captain,
who had been some time on his knees, leaped suddenly
up, and testified his joy wqth a great oath.
"A person unused to the sea would have been aston-
ished at the satisfaction which now discovered itself
in the master or in any on board ; for the storm still
raged with great violence, and the daylight, which now
appeared, presented us with sights of horror sufllcient
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 95
to terrify minds which were not absohite slaves to the
passion of fear; but so great is the force of habit, that
what inspires a landman with the highest apprehension
of danger, gives not the least concern to a sailor, to
whom rocks and quicksands are almost the only objects
of terror.
*' The master, however, was a little mistaken in the
present instance ; for he had not left the cabin above
an hour, before my man came running to me, and ac-
quainted me that the ship was half full of water ; that
the sailors were going to hoist out the boat and save
themselves ; and begged me to come that moment along
with him, as I tendered my preservation. With this ac-
count, which was conveyed to me in a whisper, I ac-
quainted both the captain and ensign ; and we altogether
immediately mounted the deck, where we found the
master making use of all his oratory to persuade the
sailors that the ship was in no danger, and at the same
time employing all his authority to set the pumps a-going,
which he assured them would keep the water under,
and save his dear Lovely Peggy, (for that was the name
of the ship,) which he swore he loved as dearly as his
own soul.
" Indeed, this sufficiently appeared ; for the leak was
so great, and the water flowed in so plentifully, that his
Lovely Peggy was half filled, before he could be brought
to think of quitting her : but now the boat was brought
alongside the ship: and the master himself, notwith-
standing all his love for her, quitted his ship, and leaped
into the boat : every man present attempted to follow
his example, when I heard the voice of my servant roar-
ing forth my name in a kind of agony. 1 made directly to
the ship-side, but was too late ; for the boat, being al-
ready overladen, put directly off. And now, madam, I
am going to relate to you an instance of heroic affection
in a poor fellow towards his master, to which love it-
self, even among persons of superior education, can
produce but few similar instances. My poor man, be-
ing unable to get me with him into the boat, leaped
suddenly into the sea, and swam back to the ship ; and
when I gently rebuked him for his rashness, he an-
swered, he chose rather to die with me, than to live
to carry the account of my death to my Amelia : at the
same time bursting into a flood of tears, he cried, ' Good
heavens ! what will that poor lady feel when she hears
96 THE HISTORY OP AMELIA*
of this !' This tender concern for my dear love en*
deared the poor fellow more to me than the gallant in-
stance which he had just before given of his affection
towards myself
" And now, madam, my eyes were shocked with a
sight, the horror of which can scarce be imagined ; for
the boat had scarce go.t four hundred yards from the
ship, when it was swallowed up by the merciless waves,
which now ran so high, that out of the number of per-
sons which were in the boat none recovered the ship ;
though many of them we saw miserably perish before
our eyes, some of them very near us, without any pos-
sibility of giving them the least assistance.
"But, whatever we felt for them, we felt, I believe^
more for ourselves, expecting every minute when we
should share the same fate. Among the rest, one of our
officers appeared quite stupified with fear: I never,
indeed, saw a more miserable example of the great
power of that passion. 1 must not, however, omit
doing him justice, by saying, that 1 afterwards saw
the same man behave well in an engagement, in which
he was wounded ; though there, hkewise, he was said
to have betrayed the same passion of fear in his counte-
nance.
" The other of our officers was no less stupified (if I
may so express myself) with fool-hardiness, and seemed
almost insensible of his danger. To say the truth, I
have from this and some other instances which 1 have
seen, been almost inclined to think that the courage as
well as the cowardice of fools proceeds from not know-
ing what is or what is not the proper object of fear ; in-
deed, we may account for the extreme hardiness of some
men in the same manner as for the terrors of children at
a bugbear : the child knows not but that the bugbear is
the proper object of fear; the blockhead knows not that
a cannon ball is so.
" As to the remaining part of the ship's crew, and the
soldiery, most of them were dead drunk ; and the rest
were endeavouring, as fast as they could, to prepare for
death in the same manner.
" In this dreadful situation we were taught that no
human condition should inspire men with absolute de-
spair ; for as the storm had ceased for some time, the
swelling of the sea began cuasiderably to abate ; and
we now perceived the man-of-war which convoyed us
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 97
at no great distance astern. Those aboard her easily
perceived our distress, and made towards us. When
they came pretty near, they hoisted out two boats to
our assistance : these no sooner approached the ship,
than they were instantaneously filled, and I myself
got a place in one of them, chiefly by the aid of my
honest servant, of whose fidelity to me on all occasions
I cannot speak or think too highly. Indeed, I got
into the boat so much the more easily, as a great num-
ber on board the ship were rendered, by drink, incapable
of taking any care for themselves. There was time,
however, for the boat to pass and repass ; so that, when
we came to call over names, three only, of all that re-
mained in the ship, after the loss of our own boat, were
missing.
" The captain, ensign, and myself were received with
many congratulations by our officers on board the man-
of-war. The sea-officers too, all except the captain,
paid us their comphments, though these were of the
rougher kind, and not without several jokes on our
escape. As for the captain himself, we scarce saw him
during many hours ; and when he appeared, he pre-
sented a view of majesty beyond any that 1 had ever
seen. The dignity which he preserved did indeed give
me rather the idea of a Mogul, or a Turkish emperor,
than any of the monarchs of Christendom. To say the
truth, I could resemble his walk on the deck to nothing
but to the image of Captain Gulliver strutting among the
Lilliputians : he seemed to think himself a being of an
order superior to all around him, and more especially to
us of the land service. Nay, such was the behaviour of
all the sea-officers and sailors to us and our soldiers,
that, instead of appearing to be subjects of the same
prince, engaged in one quarrel, and joined to support
one cause, we landmen rather seemed to be captives on
board an enemy's vessel. This is a grievous misfortune,
and often proves so fatal to the service, that it is a great
pity some means could not be found of curing it."
Here Mr. Booth stopped a while to take breath : we
will therefore give the same refreshment to the reader.
9 E
98 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
Chapter V. — The arrival of Booth at Gibraltar, with what there
befell him.
" The adventures," continued Booth, " which hap-
pened to me, from this day till my arrival at Gibraltar,
are not worth recounting to you. After a voyage, the
remainder of which was tolerably prosperous, we arrived
in that garrison, the natural strength of which is so well
known to the whole world.
"About a week after my arrival it was my fortune to
be ordered on a sally-party, in which my left leg was
broken with a musket ball ; and I should most certainly
have either perished miserably, or must have owed my
preservation to some of the enemy, had not my faithful
servant carried me off on his shoulders, and afterward,
with the assistance of one of his comrades, brought me
back into the garrison.
" The agony of my wound was so great, that it threw
me into a fever, from whence my surgeon apprehended
much danger. I now began again to feel for my Amelia,
and for myself on her account ; and the disorder of my
mind, occasioned by such melancholy contemplations,
very highly aggravated the distemper of my body ; inso-
much, that it would probably have proved fatal, had it
not been for the friendship of one Captain James, an of-
ficer of our regiment, and an old acquaintance, who is
undoubtedly one of the pleasantest companions, and one
of the best natured men in the world. This worthy
man, who had a head and a heart perfectly adequate to
every office of friendship, stayed with me almost day
and night during my illness ; and, by strengthening my
hopes, raising my spirits, and cheering my thoughts,
preserved me from destruction.
" The behaviour of this man alone is a sufficient proof
of the truth of my doctrine, that all men act entirely
from their passions ; for Bob James can never be sup-
posed to act from any motive of virtue or religion, since
he constantly laughs at both ; and yet, his conduct to-
wards me alone demonstrates a degree of goodness,
which, perhaps, few of the votaries of either virtue or
religion can equal."
" You need not take much pains," answered Miss
Matthews, with a smile, " to convince me of your doc-
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 99
trine ; I have been always an advocate for the same. I
look upon the two words you mention to serve only as
cloaks, under which hypocrisy may be the belter enabled
to cheat the world. I have been of that opinion ever
since I read that charming fellow Mandevil."
" Pardon me, madam," answered Booth, *' I hope you
do not agree with Mandevil neither, who has represented
human nature in a picture of the highest defonnity. He
has left out of his system the best passion which the
mind can possess, and attempts to derive the effects or
energies of that passion from the base impulses of pride
or fear : whereas, it is as certain that love exists in the
mind of man, as that its opposite, hatred, does ; and the
same reasons will equally prove the existence of the one
as the existence of the other."
" I don't know, indeed," replied the lady; "I never
thought much about the matter. This 1 know, that
when I read Mandevil, I thought all he said was true :
and I have been often told that he proves religion and
virtue to be only mere names. However, if he denies
there is any such thing as love, that is most certainly
wrong. I am afraid 1 can give him the lie myself." " I
will join with you, madam, in that," answered Booth,
" at any time." " Will you join with me V answered
she, looking eagerly at him. " Oh, Mr. Booth ! I know
not what I was going to say. What — where did you
leave off? I would not interrupt you — but I am impa-
tient to know something." " What, madam 1" cries
Booth. " If I can give you any satisfaction — "
" No, no," said she, " I must hear ail : 1 would not for
the world break the thread of your story — Besides, I am
afraid to ask. Pray, pray, sir, go on."
*' Well, madam," cries Booth, " I think I was men-
tioning the extraordinary acts of friendship done me by
Captain James ; nor can I help taking notice of the
almost unparalleled fidelity of poor Atkinson, (for that
was my man's name,) who was not only constant in the
assiduity of his attendance, but, during the time of my
danger, demonstrated a concern for me which I can
hardly account for ; as my prevailing on his captain to
make him a sergeant was the first favour he ever re-
ceived at my hands, and this did not happen till I was
almost perfectly recovered of my broken leg. Poor
fellow ! I shall never forget the extravagant joy his
halberd gave him : 1 remember it the more, because it
E3
100 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
was one of the happiest days of my whole life ; for it
was upon this day that I received a letter from my dear
Amelia, after a long silence, acquainting me that she
was out of all danger from her lying-in.
" I was now once more able to perform mj'- duty ;
when (so unkind was the fortune of war) the second
time I mounted the guard, I received a violent contusion
from the bursting of a bomb. I was felled to the ground,
where I lay breathless by the blow, till honest Atkinson
came to my assistance, and conveyed me to my room,
where a surgeon immediately attended me.
" The injury I had now received was nmch more dan-
gerous, in my surgeon's opinion, than the former : it
caused me to spit blood, and was attended with a fever,
and other bad symptoms; so that very fatal conse-
quences were apprehended.
" In this situation, the image of my Amelia haunted
me day and night ; and the apprehensions of never see-
ing her more were so intolerable, that I had thoughts
of resigning my commission, and returning home, weak
as I was, that I might have, at least, the satisfaction of
dying in the arms o( my love. Captain James, however,
persisted in dissuading me from any such resolution.
He told me my honour was too nmch concerned ; at-
tempted to raise my hopes of recovery to the utmost of
his power ; but chiefly he prevailed on me by suggest-
ing, that if the worst v.hich I apprehended should happen,
it was much better for Amelia that she should be absent
than present in so melancholy an hour. ' I know,' cried
he, ' the extreme joy which must arise in you from meet-
ing again with Amelia, and the comfort of expiring in
her arms ; but consider what she herself must endure
upon the dreadful occasion, and you would not wish to
purchase any happiness at the price of so much pain to
her.' This argument, at length, prevailed on me ; and it
was after many long debates resolved, that she should
not even know my present condition, till my doom either
for life or death was absolutely fixed."
" Oh heavens ! how great ! how generous !'' cried Miss
I\fatthews. " Booth, thou art a noble fellow ; and I
scarce think there is a woman upon earth worthy so
exalted a passion."
Booth made a modest answer to the compliment Avhich
Miss Matthews had paid him : this drew more civilities
I
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 101
from the lady ; and these again more acknovvledfr-
ments ; all which we shall pass by, and proceed with our
history.
Chapter VI. — Containing matters which will please some readers.
" Two months and more had I continued in a state of
uncertainty, sometimes with more flattering-, and some-
times with more alarming symptoms ; when, one after-
noon, poor Atkinson came running into my room, all
pale and out of breath, and begged me not to be surprised
at his news. I asked him eagerly what was the matter,
and if it was anything concerning Amelia. I had scarce
uttered the dear name, when she herself rushed into the
room, and ran hastily to me, crying, ' Yes, it is, it is your
Amelia herself!'
" There is nothing so difficult to describe, and gener-
ally so dull, when described, as scenes of excessive ten-
derness."
" Can you think so V says Miss Matthews : " surely
there is nothing so charming! Oh, Mr. Booth, our sex
is d — ned by the want of tenderness in yours. Oh,
were they all like you; certainly no man was ever your
equal."
" Indeed, madam," cries Booth, " you honour me too
much. But — well — when the first transports of our meet-
ing were over, Amelia began gently to chide me for
having concealed my illness from her ; for, in three let-
ters which I had written her since the accident had
happened, there was not the least mention of it, or any
hint given, by which she could possibly conclude I was
otherwise than in perfect health ; and when I had ex-
cused myself, by assigning the true reason, she cried,
' Oh, Mr. Booth ! and do you know so little of your Ame-
lia as to think I could or would survive you ? would it
not be better for one dreadful siglit to break my heart
all at once, than to break it by degrees ^ Oh, Billy ! can
anything pay me for the loss of this embrace V But I ask
your pardon — how ridiculous does my fondness appear
in your eyes !"
" How often," answered she, " shall I assert the
contrary! What would you have me say, Mr. Booth?
Shall I tell you I envy Mrs. Booth of all the women
9*
102 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
in the world 1 Would you believe me if I did ? I hope
you — what am I saying 1 Pray, make no farther apology,
but go on."
" After a scene," continued he, " too tender to be con-
ceived by many, Amelia informed me, that she had re-
ceived a letter from an unknown hand, acquainting her
with my misfortune, and advising her, if she ever de-
sired to see me more, to come directly to Gibraltar.
She said, she should not have delayed a moment, after
receiving this letter, had not the same ship brought her
one from me, written with rather more than usual gay-
ety, and in which there was not the least mention of my
indisposition. This, she said, greatly puzzled her and
her mother ; and the worthy divine endeavoured to per-
suade her to give credit to my letter, and to impute the
other to a species of wit with which the world greatly
abounds. This consists entirely in doing various kinds
of mischief to our fellow-creatures, by belying one, de-
ceiving another, exposing a third, and drawing hi a fourth
to expose himself: in short, by making some the objects
of laughter, others of contempt ; and indeed not seldom
by subjecting them to very great inconveniences, perhaps
to ruin, for the sake of a jest.
" Mrs. Harris and the doctor derived the letter from
this species of wit : Miss Betty, houever, was of a dif-
ferent opinion, and advised poor Amelia to apply to an
officer, whom the governor had sent over in the same
ship ; by whom the report of my illness was so strongly
confirmed, that Amelia immediately resolved on her
voyage.
" I had a great curiosity to know the author of this
letter ; but not tlie least trace of it could be discovered.
The only person with whom I lived in any great in-
timacy was Captain James; and he, madam, from wliat
I have already told you, you will think to be the last
person I could suspect ; besides, he declared, upon his
honour, that he knew nothing of the matter ; and no man's
honour is, I believe, more sacred. There was, indeed,
an ensign of another regiment who knew my wife, and
who had sometimes visited me in my illness ; but he was
a very unlikely man to interest himself much in any
affairs which did not concern him ; and he too declared
he knew nothing of it."
" And did you never discover this secret V cried Miss
Matthews. " Never to this day," answered Booth.
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 103
" I fancy," said she, " I could give a shrewd guess.
What so likely, as that Mrs. Booth, when you left her,
should have given her foster-brother orders to send her
word of whatever befell you ; yet stay, that could not be,
neither : for then she would not have doubted whether
she should leave dear England on the receipt of the let-
ter. No, it must have been by some other means; yet
that, I own, appeared extremely natural to me ; for if I
had been left by such a husband, I think 1 should have
pursued the same method."
"' No, madam," cried Booth, " it must have been con-
veyed by some other channel ; for my Amelia, I am cer-
tain, was entirely ignorant of the manner ; and as for
poor Atkinson, I am convinced he would not have ven-
tured to take such a step without acquainting me. Be-
sides, the poor fellow had, I believe, such a regard for
my wife, out of gratitude for the favours she has done
his mother, that I make no doubt he was highly rejoiced
at her absence from my melancholy scene. Well, who-
ever wrote it is a matter very immaterial; yet, as it
seemed so odd and unaccountable an incident, I could
not help mentioning it.
"From the time of Amelia's arrival, nothing remark-
able happened till my perfect recovery, unless I should
observe her remarkable behaviour, so full of care and
tenderness, that it was perhaps without a parallel."
"Oh, no, Mr. Booth," cries the lady; "it is fully
equalled, 1 am sure, by your gratitude. There is noth-
ing, I believe, so rare as gratitude in your sex, espe-
cially in husbands. So kind a remembrance is, indeed,
more than a return to such an obligation ; for where is
the mighty obligation which a woman confers, who,
being possessed of an inestimable jewel, is so kind to
herself as to be careful and tender of it ? I do not say
this to lessen your opimon of Mrs. Booth. I have no
doubt but that she loves you as well as she is capable.
But I would not have you think so meanly of our sex,
as to imagine there are not a thousand women suscept-
ible of true tenderness towards a meritorious man.
Believe me, Mr. Booth, if I had received such an ac-
count of an accident having happened to such a husband,
a mother and a parson would not have held me a mo-
ment ; I should have leaped into the first fishing-boat I
could have found, and bid defiance to the winds and
waves. Oh, there is no true tenderness but in a woman
104 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
of spirit. I would not be understood all this while to
reflect on Mrs. Booth. I am only defending the cause
of my sex ; for, upon my soul, such compliments to a
wife are a satire on all the rest of womankmd."
" Sure you jest, Miss Matthews," answered Booth,
with a smile ; " however, if you please, I will proceed
in my story."
Chapter VII.— The captain, continuing his story, recounts some
particulars, which, we doubt not, to niany good people, will ap-
pear unnatural.
" I WAS no sooner recovered from my indisposition
than Amelia herself fell ill. This, I am afraid, was oc-
casioned by the fatigues which I could not prevent her
from undergoing on my account; for, as my disease
went off with violent sweats, during which the surgeon
strictly ordered that 1 should lie by myself, my Amelia
could not be prevailed upon to spend many hours in her
own bed. During my restless fits she would sometimes
read to me several hours together ; indeed, it was not
without difficulty tiiat she ever quitted my bedside.
These fatigues, added to the uneasiness of her mind,
overpowered her weak spirits, and threw her into one
of the worst disorders that can possibly attend a wo-
man ; a disorder very common among the ladies, and
our physicians have not agreed upon its name : some
call it the fever on the spirits, some a nervous fever,
some the vapours, and some the hysterics."
"Oh, say no more," cries Miss Matthews; "I pity
you, I pity you from my soul. A man had better be
plagued with all the curses of Egypt than with a va-
pourish wife."
" Pity me ! madam," answered Booth, " pity rather
that dear creature, who, from her love and car§ of my
unworthy self, contracted a distemper, the horrors of
which are scarce to be imagined. It is, indeed, a sort
of complication of all diseases together, with almost
madness added to them. In this situation, the siege
being at an end, the governor gave me leave to attend
my wife to Montpelier, the air of which was judged to
be most likely to restore her to health. Upon this oc-
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 105
casion she wrote to her mother to desire a remittance
and set forth the melancholy condition of her health*
and her necessity for money, in such terms as would
have touched any bosom not void of humanity, though
a stranger to the unhappy sufferer. Her sister answered
it, and I believe I have a copy of the answer in my
pocket. I keep it by me as a curiosity ; and you would
think it more so, could I show you my Ameha's letter."
He then searched his pocket-book; and, finding the
letter among many others^ he read it in the following
words ; —
"" ' Dear Sister,
" ' My mamma being much disordered, has commanded me to tell
you, she is both shocked and surprised at your extraordinary request,
or, as she chooses to call it, order for money. You know, my
dear, she says, that your marriage with this red-coat man was en-
tirely against her consent, and the opinion of all your family; ([ am
sure I may here include myself in that number;) and yet, after tliis
fatal act of disobedience, she was prevailed on to receive you as
her child; not, however, nor sre you so to understand it, as the
favourite which you was before. She forgave you, but this was as
a Christian and a parent ; still preserving, in her own mind, a just
sense of your disobedience, and a just resentment on that account.
And yet, notwithstanding this resentment, she desires you to re-
member, that when you a second time ventured to oppose her au-
thority, and nothing would serve you but taking a ramble (an inde-
cent one, I can't help saying) after your fellow, she thought fit to
show the excess of a mother's tenderness, and furnished you with,
no less than fifty pounds for your foohsh voyage. How can she
then be otherwise than surprised at your present demand I which,
should she be so weak as to comply with, she must expect to be every
month repeated, in order to supply the extravagance of a young
rakish ofiicer. You say, she will compassionate your sufferings ;
yes, surely she does greatly compassionate them, and so do 1 too,
though you was neither so kind nor so civil as to suppose I should.
But I forgive all your slights to me, as well now as formerly : nay,
I not only forgive, but I pray daily for you. But, dear sister, what
could you expect less than what has happened ? You should have
believed your friends, who were wiser and older than you. I do not
here mean myself, though I own I am eleven months and some odd
weeks your superior ; though, had I been younger, I might, perhaps,
have been able to advise you ; for wisdom, and what some may call
beauty, do not always go together. You will not be offended at
this ; for I know in your heart you have always held your head
above some people, whom perhaps other people have thought better
of. But why do I mention what I scorn so much? No, my dear
sister, Heaven forbid it should ever be said of me, that 1 value my-
self upon my face ; not but if I could beheve men, perhaps — but I
hate and despise men ; you know I do, my dear, and I wish you had
despised them as much; hntjacta est alea, as the doctor says. You
are to make the best of your fortune ; what fortune 1 mean my mamma
E3
106 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
may please to give, for you know all is in her power. Let me acf-
vise you then to bring your mind to your circumstances, and remem-
ber (for I can't help writing it, as it is for your own good) the va-
pours are a distemper which very ill become a knapsack. Remem-
ber, my dear, what you have done ; remember what my mamma
has done ; remember we have something of yours to keep ; and do
not consider yourself as an only child — no, nor as a favourite child;
but, be pleased to remember, dear sister, your most affectionate sis-
ter, and most obedient humble servant,
E. Harris.'"
" Oh, brave Miss Betty !" cried Miss Matthews ; " I
always held her in high esteem ; but I protest she ex-
ceeds even what I could have expected from her."
" This letter, madam," cries Booth, " you will be-
lieve was an excellent cordial for my poor wife's spirits.
So dreadful indeed was the eifect it had upon her, that,
as she had read it in my absence, 1 found her, at my re-
turn home, in the most violent fits ; and so long was it
before she recovered her senses, that I despaired of that
blessed event ever happening, and my own senses very
narrowly escaped from being sacrificed to my despair.
However, she came at last to herself, and I began to
consider of every means of carrying her immediately
to Montpelier, which was now become much more ne-
cessary than before.
" Though I was greatly shocked at the barbarity of
the letter, yet I apprehended no very ill consequence
from it ; for as it was believed all over the army that I
had married a great fortune, I had received offers of
money, if I wanted it, from more than one. Indeed,
I might have easily carried my wife to Montpelier at
any time ; but she was extremely averse to the voyage,
being desirous of our returning to England, as I had
leave to do ; and she grew daily so much better, that,
had it not been for the receipt of that cursed — which
I have just read to you, I am persuaded she might have
been able to return to England in the next ship.
" Among others, there was a colonel in the garrison,
who had not only offered, but importuned me to receive
money of him : 1 now, therefore, repaired to him ; and
as a reason for altering my resolution, I produced the
letter, and at the same time acquainted him with the
true state of my affairs. The colonel read the letter,
shook his head, and, after some silence, said he was
sorry 1 had refused to accept his offer before ; but that
he had now so ordered matters, and disposed of his
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 107
money, that he had not a shilling left to spare from his
own occasions.
" Answers of the same kind I had from several others,
but not one penny could I borrow of any ; for I have
been since firmly persuaded, that the honest colonel
was not content with denying me himself, but took ef-
fectual means, by spreading the secret I had so foolishly
trusted him with, to prevent me from succeeding else-
where ; for, such is the nature of men, that whoever j
denies himself to do you a favour, is unwilhng that it
should be done to you by any other.
" This was the first time I had ever felt that distress
which arises from the want of money; a distress very
dreadful indeed in the married state ; for what can be
more miserable than to see anything necessary for the
preservation of a beloved creature, and not be able to
supply it ]
" Perhaps you may wonder, madam, that I have not
mentioned Captain James on this occasion ; but he was
at that time laid up at Algiers, (whither he had been
sent by the governor,) in a fever. However, he returned
time enough to supply me, which he did with the utmost
readiness, on the very first mention of my distress; and
the good colonel, notwithstanding his having disposed of
his money, discounted the captain's draught. You see,
madam, an instance, in the generous behaviour of my
friend James, how false are all universal satires against
human kind. He is indeed one of the worthiest men the
world ever produced.
" But, perhaps, you will be more pleased still with the
extravagant generosity of my sergeant. The day before
the return of Mr. James, the poor fellow came to me,
with tears in his eyes, and begged I would not be of-
fended at what he was going to mention. He then
pulled a purse from his pocket, which contained, he said,
the sum of twelve pounds, and which he begged me to
accept, crying he was sorry it was not in his power to
lend me whatever I wanted. I was so struck with this
instance of generosity and friendship in such a person,
that I gave him an opportunity of pressing me a second
time before I made him an answer. Indeed, I was
greatly surprised how he came to be worth that little
sum, and no less at his being acquainted with my own
wants ; in both which points he presently satisfied me.
As to the first, it seems, he had plundered a Spanish ofR-
i08 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
cer of fifteen pistoles ; and as to the second, he confessed
he had it from my wife's maid, who had overheard some
discourse between her mistress and me. Indeed, peo-
ple, I believe, always deceive themselves, who imagine
they can conceal distressed circumstances from their
servants ; for these are always extremely quick-sighted
on such occasions."
" Good Heaven !" cries Miss Matthews : " how aston-
ishing is such behaviour in so low a fellow !"
" I thought so myself," answered Booth ; " and yet I
know not, on a more strict examination into the matter,
why we should be more surprised to see greatness of
mind discover itself in one degree or rank of life, than
m another. Love, benevolence, or what you will please
to call it, may be the reigning passion m a beggar as
well as in a prince ; and wherever it is, its energies will
be the same.
" To confess the truth, I am afraid we often compli-
ment what we call upper life, with too much injustice,
at the expense of the lower. As it is no rare thing to
see instances which degrade human nature in persons of
the highest birth and education, so I apprehend, that ex-
amples of whatever is really great and good have been
sometimes found among those who have wanted all such
advantages. In reality, palaces, I make no doubt, do
sometimes contain nothing but dreariness and darkness,
and the sun of righteousness has shone forth with all its
glory in a cottage."
Chapter VIII.— The story of Booth continued.
Mr. Booth thus went on : —
"We now took leave of the garrison, and having
landed at Marseilles, arrived at Montpelier, without any
thing happening to us worth remembrance, except the
extreme sea-sickness of poor Amelia : but I was after-
ward well repaid for the terrors which it occasioned
me, by the good consequences which attended it ; for
I believe it contributed, even more than the air of Mont-
pelier, to the perfect re-establishment of her health."
" I ask your pardon for interrupting you," cries Miss
Matthews, "but you never satisfied me whether you
i
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA, 109
took the sergeant's money : you have made me half in
love with that charming fellow."
" How can you imagine, madam," answered Booth,
« I should have taken from a poor fellow what was of
so little consequence to me, and at the same time of so
much to him i Perhaps, now, you will derive this from
the passion of pride."
" Indeed," says she, *' I neither derive it from the pas-
sion of pride, nor from the passion of folly : but methinks
you should have accepted the offer ; and I am convinced
you hurt him very much when you refused it : but pray
proceed in yoiir story." Then Booth went on as fol-
lows;—
"As Amelia recovered her health and spirits daily,
we began to pass our time very pleasantly at Montpe-
lier; for the greatest enemy to the French will ac-
knowledge, that they are the best people in the world
to live among for a little while. In some countries it
is almost as easy to get a good estate as a good ac-
iquaintance. In England, particularly, acquaintance is
of almost as slow growth as an oak ; so that the age of
man scarce suffices to bring it to any perfection, and
ifamilies seldom contract any great intimacy till the
third, or at least the second generation. So shy indeed
are v^e English of letting a stranger into our houses,
that one would imagine we regarded all such as thieves*
Now the French are the very reverse : being a stranger
among them entitles you to the better place, and to
the greater degree of civility ; and if you wear but the
appearance of a gentleman, they never suspect you are
not one. Their friendship indeed seldom extends so
far as their purse ; nor is such friendship usual in other
countries. To say the truth, politeness carries friend-
ship far enough in the ordinary occasions of life, and
those who want this accomplishment rarely make
iamends for it by their sincerity ; for bluntness, or rather
rudeness, as it commonly deserves to be called, is not
always so much a mark of honesty as it is taken to
be.
"The day after our arrival we became acquainted
with Mons. Bagillard : he was a Frenchman of great
wit and vivacity, with a greater share of learning than
gentlemen are usually possessed of. As he lodged in
the same house with us, we were immediately acquaint-
ed, and I liked his conversation so well, that I never
10
110 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
thouglit I had too much of his company. Indeed, I
spent so much of my time with him, that Ameha (I
know not whether I ou^ht to mention it) grew uneasy
at our familiarity, and com.plained of my being too little
with her, from my violent fondness of my new acquaint-
ance ; for our conversation turning chiefly upon books,
and principally Latin ones, (for we read several of the
classics together,) she could have but little entertain-
ment by being with us. When my wife had once taken
it into her head that she was deprived of my company
by Mons. Bagillard, it was impossible to change her
opinion ; and though I now spent more of my time with
her than I had ever done before, she still grew more
and more dissatisfied, till, at last, she very earnestly de-
sired me to quit my lodgings, and insisted upon it with
more vehemence than I had ever known her express
before. To say the truth, if that excellent woman
could ever be thought unreasonable, I thought she was
so on this occasion.
" But, in what light soever her desires appeared to
me, as they manifestly arose from an affection of which
I had daily the most endearing proofs, I resolved to
comply with her, and accordingly removed to a distant
part of the town ; for it is my opinion, that we can have
but little love for the person whom we will never in-
dulge in an unreasonable demand. Indeed, I was under
a difiiculty with regard to Mons. Bagillard ; for, as I
could not possibly communicate to him the true rea-
son for quitting my lodgings, so 1 found it as difficult
to deceive him by a counterfeit one ; besides, I was ap-
prehensive I should have little less of his company than
before. I could, indeed, have avoided this dilemma by
quitting ^Nlontpelier, for A-melia had perfectly recovered
her health ; but I had faithfully promised Captain James
to wait his return from Italy, whither he was gone some
time before from Gibraltar ; nor was it proper for Amelia
to take any long journey, she being now near six months
gone with child.
" This difficulty, however, proved to be less than I
had imagined it ; for my French friend, whether he sus-
pected any thing from my wife's behaviour, though she
never, as I observed, showed him the least incivility,
became suddenly as cold on his side. After our leaving
the lodgings, he never made above two or three formal
visits ; indeed, his time was soon after entirely taken
THE HISTORY OP AT»IELIA, IH
xip by an intrigue with a certain countess, which blazed
ail over Montpelier.
" We had not been long in our new apartments, before
an English officer arrived at Montpelier, and came to
lodge in the same house with us. This gentleman,
whose name was Bath, was of the rank of a major, and
had so much singularity in his character, that, perhaps,
you never heard of any like him. He was far from
having any of those bookish qualifications which had
before caused my Amelia's disquiet. It is true, his dis-
course generally turned on matters of no feminine kind ;
war and martial exploits being the ordinary topics of
his conversation: however, as he had a sister, with
whom Amelia was greatly pleased, an intimacy presently
grew between us, and we four lived in one family.
'* The major was a great dealer in the marvellous,
and was constantly the little hero of his own tale. This
made him very entertaining to Amelia, who, of all per-
sons in the world, has the truest taste and enjoyment
Gf the ridiculous ; for while no one sooner discovers it
in the character of another, no one so well conceals her
knowledge of it from the ridiculous person. 1 cannot
help mentioning a sentiment of hers on this head, as I
think it does her great honour. ' If I had the same con-
tempt,' said she/ for ridiculous people with the generality
of the world, I should rather think them the objects of
t-ears than laughter ; but, in reality, I have known several,
who in some parts of their characters have been ex-
tremely ridiculous, in others have been altogether as
amiable. For instance,' said she, ' here is the major, vvho
tells us of many things which he has never seen, and of
ethers which he has never done, and both in the most
extravagant excess ; and yet how amiable is his beha-
viour to his poor sister, whom he has not only brought
over hither for her health, at his own expense, but is
come to bear her company !' I believe, madam, 1 repeat
her very words : for I am very apt to remember whaj;
she says.
" You will easily believe, from a circumstance I have
jUst mentioned in the major's favour, especially when I
have told you that his sister was one of the best of girls,
that it was entirely necessary to hide from her all kind
of laughter at any part of her brother's behaviour. To
Gay the truth, this was easy enough to do ; for the poor
girl was so bhnded with love and gratitude, and so highly
il2 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
honoured and reverenced her brother, that she had not
the least suspicion that there was a person in the world
capable of laughing at him.
" Indeed, I am certain she never made the least disco-
very of our ridicule, for I am well convinced she would
'aave resented it ; for, besides the love she bore her bro-
ther, she had a little family pride, which would some-
times appear. To say the truth, if she had any fault, it
was that of vanity : but she was a very good girl upon
the whole ; and none of us are entirely free from faults."
" You are a good-natured fellow, Will," answered
Miss Matthews ; *" but vanity is a fault of the first majg-
iiitude in a woman, and often the occasion of many
others." To this Booth made no answer, but continued
his story.
" In this company we passed two or three months
very agreeably, till the major and I both betook our-
selves to our several nurseries ; my wife being brought
to bed of a girl, and Miss Bath confined to her chamber
by a surfeit, which had like to have occasioned her
death."
Here Miss Matthews burst into a loud laugh, of which,
when Booth asked the reason, she said, she could not
forbear at the thoughts of two such nurses. " And did
you really," says she, " make your wife's caudle your-
self?^'
*' Indeed, madam," said he, " I did : and do you think
that so extraordinary ?"
" Indeed I do," answered she : " I thought the best
husbands had looked on their wives'^ lying-in as a time
of festival and jollity. What 1 did you not even get
drunk in the time of your wife's delivery ? Tell lae
honestly how you employed yourself at this tinae."
"Why, then, honestly,'^ rephed he, "-and in defiance
of your laughter, I lay behind the bolster, and supported
her in ray arms ; and, upon my soul, I believe I felt more
pain in my mind than she underwent in her body. And
now answer me as honestly ; do you really think it a
proper time of mirth, when the creature one loves to
distraction is tmdergoing the most racking torraents, as
well as in the most imminent danger? and — but I need
not express any more tender circumstances."
" I am to answer honestly >" cried she^ " Yes, and
sincerely," cries Booth. " Why, then, honestly and
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 113
sincerely," says she, "may I never see heaven, if I
don't think you an angel of a man."
" Nay, madam," answered Booth, '< but, indeed, you
do me too much honour : there are many such husbands :
nay, have we not an example of the like tenderness iii
the major ? though, as to him, I believe, I shall make
you laugh. While my wife lay in, Miss Bath being ex-
tremely ill, I went one day to the door of her apartment
to inquire after her health, as well as for the major,
whom I had not seen during a whole week. I knocked
softly at the door, and being bid to open it, I found the
major in his sister's antechamber, warming her posset.
His dress was certainly whimsical enough, having on a
woman's bedgown, and a very dirty flannel nightcap,
which, being added to a very odd person, (for he was
a very awkward, thin man, near seven feet higli,) might
have formed, in the opinion of most men, a very proper
object of laughter. The major started from his seat at
my entering into the room, and with much emotion, and
a great oath, cried out, ' Is it you, sir ?' I then inquired
after his and his sister's health. He answered, that his
sister was better, and he was very well : ' though I did
not expect, sir,' cried he, with not a little confusion, ' to
be seen by you in this situation.' I told him, I thought
it impossible he could appear in a situation more becom-
ing his character. ' You do not ?' answered he. ' By G —
I am very much obliged to you for that opinion ; but, I
believe, sir, however my weakness may prevail on me
to descend from it, no man can be more conscious of his
own dignity than myself.' His sister then called to him
from the inner room ; upon which he rang the bell for
her servant; and then, after a stride or two across the
room, he said, with an elated aspect, ' I would not have
you think, Mr. Booth, because you have caught me in
this dishabille, by coming upon me a little too abruptly,
— I cannot help saying a little too abruptly, — that I am
my sister's nurse. I know better what is due to the
dignity of a man, and I have shown it in a line of battle.
I think I have made a figure there, Mr. Booth, and be-
coming my character : by G — I ought not to be despised
too much, if my nature is not totally without its weak-
nesses.' He uttered this, and some more of the same
kind, with great majesty, or, as he called it, dignity.
Indeed, he used some hard words that 1 did not under-
staRd ; for all his words are not to be found in a dic-
10*
114 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
tionary. Upon the whole, I could not easily refram
from laughter : however, I conquered myself, and soon
after retired from him, astonished that it was possible
for a man to possess true goodness, and be, at the same
time, ashamed of it.
" But, if I was surprised at what had passed at this
visit, how much more was I surprised the n€xt morning,
when he came very early to my chamber, and told me
he had not been able to sleep one wink at what had
passed between us I ' There were some words of yours,*
says he, 'which must be farther explained before we
part. You told nie, sir, when you found me in that
situation, which I cannot bear to recollect, that you
thought I could not appear in one more becoming my
character: these were the words; I shall never forget
them. Do you imagine that there is any of the dignity
of a man wanting in my character? do you think that
I have, during my sister's illness, behaved with a weak-
ness that savours too much of effeminacy ? I know
how much it is beneath a man to v/hine and whimper
about a trifling girl as well as you or any man ; and if
my sister had died, I should have behaved like a man on
the occasion : I would not have you think I confined
myself from company merely upon her account : I was
very much disordered myself; and, when you surprised
me in that situation — I repeat again, in that situation —
her nurse had not left the room three minutes, and 1
was blowing the fire for fear it should have gone out.*
In this manner he ran on almost a quarter of an hour,
before he would suffer me to speak. At last, looking
steadfastly in his face, I asked him, if I must conclude
that he was in earnest. ' In earnest,' says he, repeating
my words : ' do you then take my character for a jest V
* Lookee, sir,' said I, very gravely, ' I think we know one
another very well ; and I have no reason to suspect you
should impute it to fear, when I tell you, I was so far
from intending to affront you, that I meant you one of
the highest compliments. Tenderness for women is so
far from lessening, that it proves a true manly character
The manly Brutus showed the utmost tenderness to his
Portia ; and the great king of Sweden, the bravest, and
even fiercest of men, shut himself up three whole days
in the midst of a campaign, and would see no company,
on the death of a favourite sister.' At these words, I
saw his features soften ; and he cried out, ' D — n me, I
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 115
admire the King of Sweden of all the men in the world ;
and he is a rascal that is ashamed of doing anything
which the King of Sweden did. And yet, if any king
of Sweden in France was to tell me that his sister had
more merit than mine, by G — I'd knock his brains
about his ears. Poor little Betsey ! she is the honestest,
worthiest girl that ever was born. Heaven be praised,
she is recovered ; for if I had lost her, I never should
have enjoyed another happy moment.' In this manner
he ran on some time, till the tears began to overflow ;
which, when he perceived, he stopped ; perhaps he was
unable to go on ; for he seemed almost choked : after a
short silence, however, having wiped his eyes with his
handkerchief, he fetched a deep sigh, and cried, ' I am
ashamed you should see this, Mr. Booth ; but, d — n me,
nature will get the better of dignity.' I now comforted
him with the example of Xerxes, as I had before done
with that of the King of Sweden ; and soon after we sat
down to breakfast together with much cordial friendship ;
for I assure you, with all his oddity, there is not a bet-
ter-natured man in the world than the major,"
" Good-natured, indeed !" cries Miss Matthews, with
great scorn : " a fool ! how can you mention such a fel-
low with commendation]"
Booth spoke as much as he could in defence of his
friend : indeed, he had represented him in as favourable
a light as possible, and had particularly left out those
hard words, with which, as he has observed a little before,
the major interlarded his discourse. Booth then pro-
ceeded, as in the next chapter.
Chapter IX. — Containing very extraordinary matters.
"Miss Bath," continued Booth, " now recovered so
fast, that she was abroad as soon as my wife : our little
partie quarree began to grow agreeable again ; and we
mixed with the company of the place more than we had
done before. Mons. Bagillard now again renewed his
intimacy, for the countess, his mistress, was gone to
Paris ; at which my wife, at first, showed no dissatis-
faction ; and I imagined, that, as she had a friend and
companion of her own sex, (for Miss Bath and she had
contracted the highest fondness for each other,) that she
116 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
would the less miss my company. However, I was
disappointed in this expectation ; for she soon began to
express her former uneasiness, and her impatience for
the arrival of Captain James, that we might entirely quit
Montpelier.
" I could not avoid conceiving some little displeasure
at this humour of my wife, which I was forced to think
a little unreasonable." " A little, do you call it V says
Miss Matthews : " good Heavens ! what a husband are
you!" "How little worthy," answered he, "as you
will say hereafter, of such a wife as my Amelia. One
day, as we were sitting together, I heard a violent
scream ; upon which my wife, starting up, cried out,
' Sure that's Miss Bath's voice !' and immediately ran to-
wards the chamber whence it proceeded. I followed
her ; and when we arrived, we there beheld the most
shocking sight imaginable ; Miss Bath lying dead on the
floor, and the major all bloody, kneeling by her and
roaring out for assistance. Amelia, though she was
herself in little better condition than her friend, ran hast-
ily to her, bared her neck, and attempted to loosen her
stays, while I ran up and down, scarce knowing what I
did, calling for water and cordials, and despatching
several servants, one after another, for doctors and sur-
geons.
** Water, cordials, and all necessary implements being
brought, Miss Bath was at length recovered, and placed
in her chair, when the major seated himself by her.
And now, the young lady being restored to life, the
major, who, till then, had engaged as little of his own
as of any other person's attention, became the object of
all our considerations, especially his poor sister's, who
had no sooner recovered sufficient strength, than she
began to lament her brother, crying out, that he was
killed, and bitterly bewailing her fate, in having revived
from her swoon to behold so dreadful a spectacle.
While Amelia applied herself to sooth the agonies of
her friend, I began to inquire into the condition of the
major, in which I was assisted by a surgeon, who now
arrived. The major declared, with great cheerfulness,
that he did not apprehend his wound to be in the least
dangerous, and therefore begged his sister to be com-
forted, saying, he was convinced the surgeon would soon
give her the same assurance: but that good man was
jiot so liberal of assurances as the major had expected ;
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 117
for, as soon as he had probed the wound, he afforded no
more than hopes, declaring that it was a very ugly-
wound ; but added, by way of consolation, that he had
cured many much worse.
" When the major was dressed, his sister seemed to
possess his whole thoughts, and all his care was to re-
lieve her grief. He solemnly protested that it was no
more than a flesh-wound, and not very deep, nor could,
as he apprehended, be in the least dangerous ; and as for
the cold expressions of the surgeon, he very well ac-
counted for them from a motive too obvious to be men-
tioned. From these declarations of her brother, and the
interposition of her friends, and, above all, 1 beheve,
from that vast vent which she had given to her fright,
Miss Bath seemed a little pacified : Amelia, therefore,
at last prevailed ; and as terror abated, curiosity became
the superior passion. I therefore now began to inquire
what had occasioned that accident whence all the uproar
arose.
" The major took me by the hand, and, looking very
kindly at me, said, ' My dear Mr. Booth, I must begin by
asking your pardon ; for I have done you an injury, for
which nothing but the height of friendship in me can be
an excuse, and, therefore, nothing but the height of
friendship in you can forgive.' This preamble, madam,
you will easily believe, greatly alarmed all the company,
but especially me. I answered, ' Dear major, 1 forgive
you, let it be what it will; but what is it possible you
can have done to injure me V * That,' replied he, ' which I
am convinced a man of your honour and dignity of na-
ture, by G — , must conclude to be one of the highest
injuries. I have taken out of your own hands the doing
yourself justice. 1 am afraid I have killed the man who
has injured your honour — I mean that villain, Bagillard :
but 1 cannot proceed ; for you, madam,' said he to my
wife, ' are concerned ; and I know what is due to the
dignity of your sex.' Amelia, 1 observed, turned pale at
these words, but eagerly begged him to proceed. ' Nay,
madam,' answered he, ' if 1 am commanded by a lady, it
is a part of my dignity to obey.' He then proceeded to
tell us, that Bagillard had rallied him upon a supposition
that he was pursuing my wife with a view of gallantry,
telling him that he could never succeed ; giving hints,
that, if it had been possible, he should have succeeded
himself; and ended with calling my poor Amelia an
118 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
accomplished prude ; upon which the major gave Bagil-
lard a box on the ear, and both immediately drew their
swords.
" The major had scarce ended his speech, when a
servant came into the room, and told me there was a
friar below, who desired to speak with me in great haste.
I shook the major by the hand, and told him T not only
forgave him, but was extremely obHged to his friend-
ship ; and then, going to the friar, 1 found that he was
Bagillard's confessor, from whom he came to me, with
an earnest desire of seeing me, that he might ask my
pardon, and receive my forgiveness before he died, for
the injury he had intended me. My wife at first opposed
my going, from some sudden fears on my account ; but,
when she was convinced they were groundless, she con-
sented.
" I found Bagillard in his bed ; for the major's sword
had passed up to the very hilt through his body. After
having very earnestly asked my pardon, he made me
many compliments on the possession of a woman, who,
joined to the most exquisite beauty, was mistress of the
most impregnable virtue, as a proof of which, he ac-
knowledged the vehemence as well as ill success of his
attempts ; and, to make Amelia's virtue appear the
brighter, his vanity was so predominant, he could not
forbear running over the names of several women of
fashion who had yielded to his passion, which, he said,
had never raged so violently for any other as for my
poor A melia ; and that this violence, which he had found
wholly unconquerable, he hoped would procure his par-
don at my hands. It is unnecessary to mention what I
said on this occasion. I assured him of my entire for-
giveness ; and so we parted. To say the truth, I after-
ward thought myself almost obliged to him for a meet-
ing with Amelia, the most luxuriously delicate that can
be imagined.
" I now ran to my wife, whom I embraced with rap-
tures of love and tenderness. When the first torrent
of these was a little abated, ' Confess to me, my dear,'
said she ; ' could your goodness prevent you from think-
ing me a little unreasonable in expressing so much un-
easiness at the loss of your company, while 1 ought to
have rejoiced in the thoughts of your being so well en-
tertained ] I know you must; and then consider what
I must have felt, while I knew I was daily lessening
1
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 119
myself in your esteem, and forced into a conduct, which
I WHS sensible must appear to you, who was ijrnorant
of my motive, to be mean, vulgar, and selfish. AikI yet,
what other course had 1 to take with a man, whom no
denial, no scorn could abash ] But if this was a cruel
task, how much more wretched still was the constraint
1 was obliged to wear in his presence before you ; to
show outward civility to the man whom my soul de-
tested, for fear of any fatal consequence from your sus-
picion ; and this too, while I was afraid he would con-
strue it to be an encouragement ? Do you not pity your
poor Amelia, when you reflect on her situation ]' ' Pity V
cried I : ' my love, is pity an adequate expression for
esteem, for adoration ? But how, my love, could he
carry this on so secretly 1 by letters]' 'Oh no, he offered
me many ; but I never would receive but one, and that
I returned him. Good God ! I would not have such a
letter in my possession for the universe : I thought my
eyes contaminated with reading it.' "
" Oh brave I" cried Miss Matthews : " heroic, I pro-
test!
'" Had I a wish that did not bear
The stamp and image of my dear,
I'd pierce my heart through every vein,
And die to let it out again.' "
" And can you really," cried he, " laugh at so much
tenderness V " I laugh at tenderness ! oh, Mr. Booth,"
answered she, " thou knowest but little of Calista."
"I thought formerly," cried he, "I knew a great deal;
and thought you, of all women in the world, to have
the greatest — " " Of all women ? Take care, Mr. Booth,"
said she : " by Heaven ! if you thought so, you thought
truly. But what is the object of my tenderness? such
an object as — " " Well, madam," says he, " I hope you
will find one." "I thank you for that hope, however,"
says she, "cold as it is. But pray go on with your
story;" which command he immediately obeyed.
Chapter X. — Containing a letter of a very curious kind.
" The majors wound," continued Booth, " was really
as slight as he believed it, so that in a very few days
he ivas perfectly well ; nor was Bagillard, though run
120 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
through the body, long apprehended to be in any danger
of his life. The major then took me aside, and wish-
ing me heartily joy of Bagillard's recovery, told me, I
should now, by the gift (as it were) of Heaven, have an
opportunity of doing myself justice. I answered, I
could not think of any such thing ; for that, when I
imagined he was on his deathbed, I had heartily and
sincerely forgiven him. ' Very right,' replied the major,
' and consistent with your honour, when he was on his
deathbed ; but that forgiveness was only conditional,
and is revoked by his recovery.' I told him, I could not
possibly revoke it ; for that my anger was really gone.
• What has anger,' cried he, ' to do with the matter ]
The dignity of my nature has been always my reason
for drawing my sword ; and when that is concerned, I
can as readily fight with the man I love as with the man
I hate.' I will not tire you with the repetition of the
whole argimient, in which the major did not prevail ;
and I really believe I sunk a little in his esteem upon
that account, till Captain James, who arrived soon after,
again perfectly reinstated me in his favour.
" When the captain was come, there remained no
cause of our longer stay at Montpelier ; for as to my
wife, she was in a better state of health than I had
ever known her ; and Miss Bath had not only recov-
ered her health, but her bloom ; and from a pale skele-
ton, was become a plump, handsome young woman.
James was again my cashier ; for, far from receiving
any remittance, it was now a long time since 1 had re-
ceived any letter from England, though both myself and
my dear Amelia had written several both to my mother
and sister : and now, at our departure from Montpelier^
I bethought myself of writing to my good friend the doc-
tor, acquainting him with our journey to Paris, whither
I desired he would direct his answer.
" At Paris we all arrived, without encountering any
adventure on the road worth relating ; nor did anything
of consequence happen here during the first fortnight;
for as you know neither Captain James nor Miss Bath,
it is scarce worth telling you that an affection, which
afterward ended in a marriage, began now to appear
between them, in which it may appear odd to you that
I made the first discovery of the lady's flame, and my
wife of the captain's.
" The seventeenth day after our arrival at Paris, I
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 12]
received a letter from the doctor, which I have in my
pocketbook ; and if you please I will read it to you;
for I would not willingly do any injury to his words."
The lady, you may easily believe, desired to hear the
letter, and Booth read it as follows : —
"My Dear Children,
" For I will now call you so, as you have neither of you now any other
parent in this world Of this melancholy news 1 should have sent
you earlier notice, if I had thought you ignorant of H, or, indeed, if
1 had known whither to have written. Jf your sister has received
any letters from you, she has kept them a secret ; and, perhaps, out
of affection to you, has reposited them in the same place where she
keeps her goodness, and, what I am afraid is much dearer to her —
her money. The reports concerning you have been various ; so is
always the case in matters where men are ignorant : for when no
man knows what the truth is, every man thinks himself at liberty
to report what he pleases. Those who wish you well, son IJooth,
say simply that you are dead ; others, that you ran away from the
siege, and was cashiered. As for my daughter, all agree that she is
a saint above ; and there are not wanting those who hint that her
husband sent her thither. From this beginning, you will expect, I
suppose, better news than I am going to tell you ; but pray, my dear
children, why may not I, who have always laughed at my own af-
flictions, laugh at yours, without the censure of much malevolence ?
I wish you could learn this temper from me ; for, take my word for
it, nothing truer ever came from the mouth of a heathen, than that
sentence —
' Leve fit, quod bene fertur, onus.'*
And though I must confess I never thought Aristotle (whom I do
not take for so great a blockhead as some who have never read him)
does very well resolve the doubt which he has raised in his Ethics,
viz., How a man, in the midst of King Priam's misfortunes, can be
called happy ''. yet, I have long thought that there is no calamity so
great that a Christian philosopher may not reasonably laugh at it.
If the heathen Cicero, doubting of immortality, (for so wise a i.ian
must have doubted of that wlilch had such slender arguments to
support it,) could assert it as the office of wisdom, humanns res des-
picere, atque infra se positas arbitrari,\ (which passage, with much
more to the same purpose, you will find in the third book of his 'I'us-
culan Questions,) with how much greater confidence may a good
Christian despise, and even deride, all temporary and short transi-
tory evils ! If the poor wretch, who is trudging on to his miserable
cottage, can laugh at the storms and tempests, the rain and whirl-
winds, which surround him, while his richest hope is only that of
rest ; how much more cheerfully must a man pass through such
transient evils, whose spirits are buoyed up with the certain expect-
ation of finding a noble palace, and the most sumptuous entertain-
ment ready to receive him! I do not much hke the simile ; but I
cannot think of a better. And yet, inadequate as the simile is, we
* The burden becomes light by being well borne.
t To look down on all human affairs as matters below his consideration.
11 F
122 THE HISTORT OF AMELIA.
may, I think, from the actions of mankind conclude, that they will
consider it as much too strong; for, ni the case I have put of the
entertainment, is there any man so tender or poor spirited as not to
despise, and often to deride, the tiercest of those inclemencies which
I have mentioned ! But in our journey to the glorious mansions of
everlasting bliss, how severely is every little rub, every triliing acci-
dent lamented ? and, if Fortune showers down any of her heavier
storms upon us, how wretched do we presently appear to ourselves
and to others ! The reason of this can be no other than that we are
not in earnest in our faith ; at the best, we think with too little at-
tention on this our great concern. While the most paltry matters
of this world, even those pitiful trifles, those childish gewgaws,
riches, and honours, are transacted with the utmost earnestness and
most serious application, the grand and weighty affair of immortal-
ity is postponed and disregarded, nor ever brought into the least
competition with our affairs here Jf one of my cloth should begin
a discourse of Heaven, in the scenes of business or pleasure, in the
court of requests, at Garraway's or at White's, would he gain a
hearing, unless, perhaps, of some sorry jester, who would desire to
ridicule him? Would he not presently acquire the name of the mad
parson, and be thought, by all men, worthy of Bedlam ? Or, would
he not be treated as the Romans treated their Aretalogi,* and con-
sidered in the light of a buflibon ? But why should I mention those
places of hurry and worldly pursuit '! What attention do we engage
even in the pulpit? Here, if a sermon be prolonged a little beyond
the usual hour, does it nut set half the audience asleep ? as I question
not 1 have by this time both my children. Well, ihen, like a good-
natured surgeon, who prepares his patient for a painful operation,
by endeavouring, as much as he can. to deaden his sensation, I will
now communicate to you, in your slumbering condition, the news
with which 1 threatened you. Your good mother, you are to know,
is dead at last, and has left her whole fortune to her elder daughter ;
this is ail the ill news I have to tell you. Confess now, if you are
awake, did you not expect it was much worse ? Did you not appre-
hend that your charming child was dead ? — far from it, he is in per-
fect health, and the admiration of everybody : what is more, he will
be taken care of, with the tenderness of a parent, till your return.
What pleasure must this give you ! if, indeed, anything can add to
the happiness of a married couple, who are extremely and deser-
vedly fond of each other, and, as you write me, in perfect health.
A superstitious heathen would have dreaded the malice of Nemesis
in your situation ; but, as I am a Christian, I shall venture to add
another circumstance to your felicity, by assuring you that you have,
besides your wife, a faithful and zealous friend. Do not, therefore,
my dear children, fall into that fault, which, the excellent Thucyd-
ides oteerves, is too common in human nature; to bear heavily the
being deprived of the smaller good, without conceiving, at the same
time, any gratitude for the much greater blessings which we are
suffered to enjoy. I have only further to tell you, my son, that
when you call at Mr. Morand's, Rue Dauphine, you will find your-
self worth a hundred pounds. Good Heaven ! how much richer are
you than millions of people, who are in want of nothing ! Farewell,
and know me for your sincere and affectionate friend."
* A set of beggarly philosophers, who diverted great men at their table with
burlesque discourses oa virtue.
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 123
*• There, madam," cries Booth, " how do you hke the
letter ?"
" Oh, extremely," answered she ; " the doctor is a
charming man ; 1 always loved dearly to liear liini
preach. I remember to have heard of Mrs. Harris's
death above a year before I left the country, but never
knew the particulars of her will before. 1 am extremely
sorry for it, upon my honour."
"Oh, fy, madam!" cries Booth; "have you so soon
forgot the chief purport of the doctor's letter V
" Ay, ay," cried she : " these are very pretty tilings to
read, I acknowledge ; but the loss of fortune is a serious
matter; and I am sure a man of Mr. Booth's understand-
ing must think so."
" One consideration, I must own, madam," answered
he, " a good deal baffled all the doctor's arguments. This
was my concern for my little growing family, who must
one day feel the loss ; nor was I so easy upon Amelia's
account as upon my own, though she herself put on the
utmost cheerfulness, and stretched her invention to the
utmost to comfort me. But sure, madam, there is some-
thing in the doctor's letter to admire beyond the philoso-
phy of it ; what think you of that easy, generous, friendly
manner in which he sent me the hundred pounds ]"
" Very noble and great, indeed !" replied she. " But
pray go on with your story; for I long to hear the
whole."
Chapter XL— In which Mr. Booth relates his return to England.
" NormNG remarkable, as I remember, happened during
our stay at Paris, which we left soon after, and came to
London. Here we rested only two days; and then,
taking leave of our fellow-travellers, we set out for Wilt-
shire ; my wife being so impatient to see the child which
she had left behind her, that the child she carried with
her was almost killed with the fatigue of the journey.
" We arrived at our inn late in the evening. Amelia,
though she had no great reason to be pleased with any
part of her sister's behaviour, resolved to behave to her
as if nothing wrong had ever happened. She therefore
sent a kind note to her the moment of our arrival, giving
her her option whether she would come to us at the inn,
F2
124 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
or whether we should that evening wait on her. The
servant, after waiting an hour, brought us an answer ex-
cusing her from coming to us so late, as she was dis*
ordered with a cold, and desiring my wife by no means
to think of venturing out after the fatigue of her journey ;
saying, she would, on that account, defer the great pleas-
ure of seeing her till the morning, without taking any more
notice of your humble servant than if no such person
had been in the world, though I had very civilly sent my
compliments to her. I should not mention this trifle, if
it was not to show you the nature of the woman, and that
it will be a kind of key to her future conduct.
" When the servant returned, the good doctor who
had been with us almost all the time of his absence, hur-
ried us away to his house, where we presently found a
supper and abed prepared for us. My wife was eagerly
desirous to see her child that night ; but the doctor
would not suffer it : and as he was at nurse at a distant
part of the town, and the doctor assured her he had seen
him in perfect health that evening, she suffered herself
at last to be dissuaded.
" We spent that evening in the most agreeable manner ;
for the doctor's wit and humour, joined to the highest
cheerfulness and good-nature, made him the most agree-
able companion in the world ; and he was now in the
highest spirits, which he was pleased to place to our ac-
count. We sat together to a very late hour ; for so ex-
cellent is my wife's constitution, that she declared she
was scarce sensible of any fatigue from her late journeys.
" Amelia slept not a wink all night ; and in the morn-
ing early the doctor accompanied us to the little infant.
The transports we felt on this occasion were really en-
chanting, nor can any but a fond parent conceive, I am
certain, the least idea of them. Our inmginations sug-
gested a hundred iigreeable circumstances, none of which
had, perhaps, any foundation. W'e made words and
meaning out of every sound ; and in every feature I found
out some resemblance to my Amelia, as she did to me.
" But 1 ask your pardon for dwelling on such incidents ;
and will proceed to scenes which, to most persons, will
be more entertaining.
*' We went hence to pay a visit to Miss Harris, whose
reception of us was, 1 think, truly ridiculous ; and, as
you know the lady, I will endeavour to describe it par-
ticularly. At our first arrival we were ushered into a
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. l26
parlour, where we were suffered to wait almost an hour :
at length the lady of the house appeared in deep mourn-
ing-, with a face, if possible, more dismal than her dress,
in which, however, there was every appearance of art.
Her features were indeed screwed up to the very height
of grief. With this face, and in the most solemn gait,
she approached Amelia, and coldly saluted her; after
which, she made me a very distant, formal courtesy, and
we all sat down. A short silence now ensued, which
Miss Harris at length broke with a deep sigh, and said,
* Sister, here is a great alteration in this place since you
saw it last; Heaven has been pleased to take my poor
mother to itself.' (Here she wiped her eyes, and then
continued.) ' 1 hope I know my duty, and have learned a
proper resignation to the Divine will ; but something is
to be allowed to grief for the best of mothers ; for so she
was to us both ; and if, at last, she made any distinction,
she must have had her reasons for so doing. I am sure
I can truly say that I never wished, much less desired it.'
The tears now stood in poor Amelia's eyes ; indeed, she
had paid too many already for the memory of so un-
natural a parent. She answered with the sweetness of
an angel, that she was far from blaming her sister's emo-
tions on so tender an occasion ; that she heartily joined
with her in her grief ; for that nothing which her mother
had done in the latter part of her life could efface the re-
membrance of that tenderness which she had formerly
shown her. Her sister caught hold of the word efface,
and rung the changes upon it. 'Efface!' cried she ; 'oh,
Miss Emily ! (for you must not expect me to repeat
names that will be for ever odious,) I wish, indeed,
everything could be effaced. Effaced ! oh that that was
possible ! we might then have still enjoyed my poor
mother; for I am convinced she never recovered her
grief on a certain occasion.' Thus she ran on ; and after
many bitter strokes upon her sister, at last directly charg-
ed her mother's death on my marriage with Amelia. I
could be silent then no longer. I reminded her of the
perfect reconciliation between us before my departure,
and the great fondness which she expressed for me ; nor
could 1 help saying, in very plain terms, that if she had
ever changed her opinion of me, as I was not conscious
of having deserved such a change by my own behaviour,
I was well convinced to whose good offices I owed it.
Guilt has very quick ears to an accusation. Miss Harris
11*
126 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
immediately answered to the charge. She said, such
suspicions were no more than she expected ; that they
were of a piece with every other part of my conduct,
and gave her one consolation ; that they served to ac-
count for her sister Emily's unkindness, as well to her-
self as to her poor deceased mother, and in some meas-
ure lessened the guilt of it with regard to her ; since it
was not easy to know how far a woman is in the power
of her husband. My dear Amelia reddened at this reflec-
tion on me ; and begged her sister to name any single
instance of unkindness or disrespect, in which she had
ever off'ended. To this the other answered, (I am sure I
repeat her words, though I cannot mimic either the voice
or the air with which they were spoken,) ' Pray, Miss
Emily, which is to be the judge, j^ourself, or that gentle-
man ? I remember the time when I could have trusted
to your judgment in any affair ; but you are now no lon-
ger mistress of yourself, and are not answerable for your
actions. Indeed, it is my constant prayer that your ac-
tions may not be imputed to you. It was the constant
prayer of that blessed woman, my dear mother, who is
now a saint above ; a saint, whose name I can never
mention without a tear, though I find you can hear it
without one. I cannot help observing some concern
on so melancholy an occasion ; it seems due to decency;
but perhaps (for I always wish to excuse you) you are
forbid to cry.' The idea of being bid or forbid to cry
struck so strongly on my fancy, that indignation only
could have prevented me from laughing. But my narra-
tive, I am afraid, begins to grow tedious. In short, after
hearing, for near an hour, every malicious insinuation
which a fertile genius could invent, we took our leave,
and separated as persons who would never willingly
meet again.
" The next morning after this interview, Amelia re-
ceived a long letter from Miss Harris; in which, after
many bitter invectives against me, she excused her
mother, alleging that she had been driven to do as she
did, in order to prevent Amelia's ruin, if her fortune had
fallen into my hands. She likewise very remotely hinted
that she would be only a trustee for her sister's children,
and told her that on one condition only she would con-
sent to live with her as a sister. This was, if she could
by any means be separated from that man, as she was
k
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 127
pleased to call me, who had caused so much mischief in
the family.
*' I was so enrag-ed at this usage, that, had not Amelia
intervened, I believe I should have applied to a maffis-
trate for a search-warrant for that picture, which there
was so much reason to suspect she had stolen ; and
which, I am convinced, upon a search, we should have
found in her possession."
" Nay, it is possible enough," cries Miss Matthews ;
" for 1 believe there is no wickedness of which the lady
is not capable."
*' This agreeable letter was succeeded by another of
the like comfortable kind, which informed me that the
company in which I was, being an additional one raised
in the beginning of the war, was reduced ; so that I was
now a lieutenant on half-pay.
" While we were meditating on our present situation,
the good doctor came to us. When we related to him
the manner in which my sister had treated us, he cried
out, ' Poor soul ! I pity her heartily ;' for this is the
severest resentment he ever expresses ; indeed, I have
often heard him say, that a wicked soul is the greatest
object of compassion in the world ;" a sentiment which
we shall leave the reader a little time to digest.
Chapter XII.— In which Mr. Booth concludes his story.
" The next day the doctor set out for his parsonage,
which was about thirty miles distant, whither Amelia
and myself accompanied him, and where we stayed with
him all the time of his residence there, being almost three
months.
" The situation of the parish under my good friend's
care is very pleasant ; it is placed among meadows,
washed by a clear trout stream, and flanked on both
sides with downs. His house, indeed, would not much
attract the admiration of the virtuoso : he built it him-
self, and it is remarkable only for its plainness ; with
which the furniture so well agrees, that there is no one
thing in it that may not be absolutely necessary, except
books, and the prints of Mr. Hogarth, whom he calls a
moral satirist.
" Nothing, however, can be imagined more agreeable
128 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
than the life that the doctor leads in this homely house,
which he calls his earthly paradise. All his parishioners,
whom he treats as his children, regard him as their com-
mon father. Once in a week he constantly visits every
house in the parish, examines, commends, and rebukes,
as he finds occasion. This is practised likewise by his
curate in his absence ; and so good an effect is produced
by this their care, that no quarrels ever proceed either to
blows or law-suits ; no beggar is to be found in the whole
parish ; nor did I ever hear a very profane oath all the
time I lived in it.
" But to return from so agreeable a digression to my
own affairs, that are much less worth your attention. In
the midst of all the pleasures I tasted in this sweet place,
and in the most delightful company, the woman and man
whom I loved above all things, melancholy reflections
concerning my unhappy circumstances would often steal
into my thoughts. My fortune was now reduced to
less than forty pounds a year ! 1 had already two chil-
dren, and my dear Amelia was again with child.
" One day the doctor found me sitting by myself, and
employed in melancholy contemplations on this subject.
He told me he had observed me growing of late very
serious ; that he knew the occasion, and neither won-
dered at nor blamed me. He then asked me if I had
any prospect of going into the army; if not, what scheme
of life I proposed to myself.
" I told him, that as I had no powerful friends, I could
have but little expectations in a military way ; that I was
incapable of thinking of any other scheme, as all business
required some knowledge or experience, and likewise
money to set up with ; of all which I was destitute.
" * You must know then, child,' said the doctor, ^ that
1 have been thinking on this subject as well as you ; for
I can think, I promise you, with a pleasant countenance.'
(These were his words.) 'As to the army, perhaps
means might be found of getting you another commis-
sion ; but my daughter seems to have a violent objection
to it ; and, to be plain, I fancy you yourself will find no
glory make you amends for your absence from her : and
for my part,' said he, ' I never think those men wise, who,
for any worldly interest, forego the greatest happiness
of their lives. If I mistake not,' says he, ' a country life,
where you could be always together, would make you
both much happier people.'
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 129
*' I answered, that of all things I preferred it most ; and
I believed Amelia was of the same opinion.
" The doctor, after a little hesitation, proposed to
me to turn farmer, and offered to let me his parsonage,
which was then become vacant f he said it was a farm
which required but little stock, and that httle should not
be wanting.
" 1 embraced this offer very eagerly, and with great
thankfulness ; and immediately repaired to Amelia, to
communicate it to her, and to know her sentiments.
" Amelia received the news with the highest transports
of joy ; she said that her greatest fear had always been
of my entering again into the army. She was so kind as
to say, that all stations of life were equal to her, unless
as one afforded her more of my company than another.
' And as to our children,' said she, ' let us bring them up to
an humble fortune, and they will be contented with it ; for
none,' added my angel, 'deserves happiness, or, indeed,
are capable of it, who make any particular station a ne-
cessary ingredient.'
" Thus, madam, you see me degraded from my former
rank in life ; no longer Captain Booth, but Farmer Booth,
at your service.
" During my first year's continuance in this new scene
of life, nothing, I think, remarkable happened : the his-
tory of one day would, indeed, be the history of the whole
year."
" Well, pray, then," said Miss Matthews, " do let us
hear the history of that day. I have a strange curiosity
to know how you could kill your time : and do, if pos-
sible, find out the very best day you can."
" If you command me, madam," answered Booth,
" you must yourself be accountable for the dulness of
the narrative : nay, I believe you have imposed a very
difficult task on me ; for the greatest happiness is inca-
pable of description.
" I rose, then, madam — "
" Oh, the moment you waked, undoubtedly," said Miss
Matthews.
" Usually," said he, " between five and six."
" I will have no usually," cried Miss Matthews : " you
are confined to a day, and it is to be the best and happi-
est in the year."
" Nay, madam," cries Booth ; " then I must tell you
the day in which Amelia was brought to bed, after a
FS
ISO THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
painful and dangerous labour ; for that, I think, was the
happiest day of my life."
'• 1 protest," said she, " you are become Farmer Booth
indeed. What a happiness you have painted to my im-
agination ! You put me in mind of a newspaper, where
my lady Such-a-one is delivered of a son, to the great
joy of some illustrious family."
" Why, then, I do assure you, Miss Matthews," cries
Booth, " I scarce know a circumstance that distinguished
one day from another. The whole was one continued
series of love, health, and tranquillity. Our lives re-
sembled a calm sea."
" The dullest of all ideas," cries the lady,
" I know," said he, " it must appear dull in description ;
for who can describe the pleasures which the morning
air gives to one in perfect health ; the flow of spirits
which springs up from exercise ; the delights which pa-
rents feel from the prattle and innocent follies of their
children ; the joy with which the tender smile of a wife
inspires a husband ; or, lastly, the cheerful, solid com-
fort which a fond couple enjoy in each other's conver-
sation 1 All these pleasures, and every other of which
our situation was capable, we tasted in the highest de-
gree. Our happiness was, perhaps, too great ; for For-
tune seemed to grow envious of it, and interposed one
of the most cruel accidents that could have befallen us,
by robbing us of our dear friend the doctor."
" I am sorry for it," said Miss Matthews : " he was
indeed a valuable man, and I never heard of his death
before."
" Long may it be before any one hears of it !" cries
Booth : '• he is, indeed, dead to us ; but will, I hope, en-
joy many happy years of life. You know, madam, the
obligations he had to his patron, the earl ; indeed, it
was impossible to be once in his company without hear-
ing of them : I am sure you will neither wonder that he
was chosen to attend the young lord in his travels as
his tutor, nor that the good man, however disagreeable
it might be, as in fact it was, to his inclination, should
comply with the earnest request of his friend and pa-
tron.
" By this means I was bereft not only of the best
companion in the world, but of the best counsellor; a
loss, of which I have since felt the bitter consequence ;
for no greater advantage, I am convinced, can arrive to
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 131
a young man who has any degree of understanding, than
an intimate converse with one of riper years, who is
not only able to advise, but who knows the manner of
advising. By this means alone, youth can enjoy the
benefit of the experience of age, and at a time of life
when such experience will be of more service to a man,
than when he has lived long enough to acquire it of him-
self.
" From want of my sage counsellor, I now fell into
many errors. The first of these was in enlarging my
business, by adding a farm of one hundred a year to the
parsonage ; in renting which I had also as bad a bargain
as the doctor had before given me a good one. The
consequence of which was, that whereas, at the end of
the first year, I was worth upwards of fourscore pounds,
at the end of the second I was near half that sum
worse, as the phrase is, than nothing.
" A second folly I was guilty of in uniting families
with the curate of the parish, who had just married, as
my wife and I thought, a very good sort of a woman.
We had not, however, lived one month together, before
I plainly perceived this good sort of a woman had taken
a great prejudice against my Amelia ; for which, if I
had not known something of the human passions, and
that high place which envy holds among them, I should
not have been able to account : for so far was my angel
from having given her any cause of dislike, that she had
treated her not only with civility, but kindness.
" Besides superiority in beauty, which, I believe, all
the world would have allowed to Amelia, there was an-
other cause of this envy, which I am almost ashamed to
mention, as it may well be called my greatest folly.
" You are to know then, madam, that from a boy I
had been always fond of driving a coach, in which I val-
ued myself on having some skill. This, perhaps, was
an innocent, but 1 allow it to have been a childish vanity.
As I had an opportunity, therefore, of buying an old
coach and harness very cheap, (indeed, they cost me but
twelve pounds,) and as I considered that the same horses
which drew my wngon would likewise draw my coach,
I resolved on indulging myself in the purchase.
" The consequence of setting up this poor old coach
is inconceivable. Before this, as my wife and myself
had very little distinguished ourselves from the other
farmers and their wives, either in our dress or our way
132 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
of living, they treated us as their equals ; but now they
began to consider us as elevating ourselves into a state
of superiority, and immediately began to envy, hate, and
. declare war against us. The neighbouring little squires,
too, were uneasy to see a poor renter become their
equal in a matter in which they placed so much dignity ;
and not doubting but it arose in me from the same os-
tentation, they began to hate me likewise, and to turn
my equipage into ridicule ; asserting that my horses,
which were as well matched as any in the kingdom,
were of different colours and sizes; with much more
of that kind of wit, the only basis of which is lying.
" But what will appear more surprising to you. mad-
am, was, that the curate's wife, who, being lame, had
more use of the coach than my Amelia, (indeed, she
seldom went to church in any other manner,) was one
of my bitterest enemies on the occasion. If she had
ever any dispute with Amelia, which all the sweetness
of my poor girl could not sometimes avoid, she was sure
to introduce, with a malicious sneer, ' Though my
husband does not keep a coach, madam.' Nay, she
took this opportunity to upbraid my wife with the loss
of her fortune ; alleging, that ' some folks might have
had as good pretensions to a coach as other folks, and a
better loo, as they brought a better fortune to their hus-
bands ; but that all people had not the art of making
brick without straw.'
" You will wonder, perhaps, madam, how I can re-
member such stuff, which, indeed, was a long time only
matter of amusement to both Amelia and myself; but
wo at last experienced the mischievous nature of envy,
and that it tends rather to produce tragical than comical
events. My neighbours now began to conspire against
me : they nicknamed me, in derision, the Squire Farmer.
Whate\'er I bought, I was sure to buy dearer ; and when
I sold, I was obliged to sell cheaper than any other. In
fact, they v;ere all united ; and while they every day
committed trespasses on my lands with impunity, if
any of my cattle escaped into their fields, I was forced
to enter into a law-suit, or to make amends fourfold for
the damage sustained.
" The consequences of all this could be no other than
that ruin which ensued. Without tiring you with par-
ticulars, before the end of four j^ears, I became involved
in debt near three hundred pounds more than the value
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 133
of all my effects. My landlord seized my stock for
rent : and, to avoid immediate confinement in prison, I
was forced to leave the country, with all that I hold
dear in the world, my wife, and my poor little family.
" In this condition I arrived in town five or six days
ago. I had just taken a lodging in the verge of the
court, and had written my dear Amelia word where she
might find me, when she had settled her affairs in the
best manner she could. That very evening, as I was
returning home from a coffee-house, a fray happening
in the street, I endeavoured to assist the injured party,
when I was seized by the watch, and, after being con-
fined all night in the round-house, was conveyed m the
morning before a justice of peace, who committed me
hither ; where I should probably have starved, had I
not, from your hands, found a most unaccountable pres-
ervation : and here, give me leave to assure you, my dear
Miss Matthews, that whatever advantage I may have
reaped from your misfortune, I sincerely lament it ; nor
would I have purchased any rehef to myself at the price
of seeing you in this dreadful place."
He spake these last words with great tenderness ;
for he w^as a man of consummate good-nature, and had
formerly had much affection for this young lady ; indeed,
more than the generality of people are capable of enter-
taining for any person whatsoever.
BOOK IV.
Chapter I.— Containing very mysterious matter.
Miss Matthews did not in the least fall short of Mr.
Booth in expressions of tenderness. Her eyes, the
most eloquent orators on such occasions, exerted their
utmost force ; and, at the conclusion of his speech, she
cast a look as languishingly sweet as ever Cleopatra
gave to Antony. In real fact, this Mr. Booth had been
her first love, and had made strong impressions on her
young heart, which the learned in this branch of phi-
losophy affirm, and perhaps truly, are never to be erad-
icated.
12
134 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
When Booth had finished his story, a silence ensued
of some minutes ; an interval which the painter would
describe much better than the writer. Some readers
may, however, be able to make pretty pertinent conjec-
tures by what 1 have said above, especially when they
are told that Miss Matthews broke the silence by a sigh,
and cried, " Why is Mr. Booth unwilling to allow me
the happiness of thinking my misfortunes have been of
some little advantage to him 1 Sure the happy Ameha
would not be so selfish to envy me that pleasure : no ;
not if she was as much the fondest, as she is the hap-
piest of women." *' Good Heavens! madam," said he;
" do you call my poor Amelia the happiest of women V
" Indeed I do," answered she, briskly. " Oh, Mr. Booth !
there is a speck of white in her fortune, which, when it
falls to the lot of a sensible woman, makes her full
amends for all the crosses which can attend her. Per-
haps she may not be sensible of it ; but if it had been
my blessed fate — Oh, Mr. Booth ! could I have thought,
when we were first acquainted, that the most agreeable
man in the world had been capable of making the kind,
the tender, the aff'ectionate husband "? The happy Ame-
lia, in those days, was unknown ; Heaven had not then
given her a prospect of the happiness it intended her —
but yet it did intend it her ; for sure there is a fatality
in the affairs of love ; and the more I reflect on my own
life, the more I am convinced of it. Oh, heavens ! how
a thousand little circumstances crowd into my mind !
When you first marched into our town, you had then the
colours in your hand : as you passed under the window
where I stood, my glove, by accident, dropped into the
street ; you stooped, took up my glove, and, putting it
upon the spike belonging to your colours, lifted it up to
the window. Upon this, a young lady, who stood by,
said,' So, miss, the young officer has accepted' your chal-
lenge !' 1 blushed then, and I blush now, when I confess
to you, I thought you the prettiest young fellow I had
ever seen ; and, upon my soul, I believe you was then
the prettiest fellow in the world." Booth here made a
low bow, and cried, " Oh, dear madam, how ignorant
was I of my own happiness !" " Would you really have
thought sol" answered she: -'however, there is some
politeness, if there be no sincerity, in what you say."
Here the governor of the enchanted castle interrupted
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 135
them, and, entering the room without any ceremony, ac-
quainted the lady and gentleman that it was locking up
time ; and, addressing Booth by the name of captain,
asked him if he would not please to have a bed ; adding,
that he might have one in the next room to the lady,
but that it would come dear; for that he never let a bed
in that room under a guinea, nor could he afford it
cheaper to his father.
No answer was made to this proposal; but Miss Mat-
thews, who had already learned some of the ways of
the house, said, she believed Mr. Booth would like to
drink a glass of something ; upon which the governor
immediately trumpeted forth the praises of his rack
punch, and, without waiting for any further commands,
presently produced a large bowl of that liquor.
The governor, having recommended the goodness of
his punch by a hearty draught, began to revive the other
matter, saying, that he was just going to bed, and must
first lock up. " But suppose," said Miss Matthews,
with a smile, " the captain and I should have a mind to
sit up all night." " With all my heart," said the gov-
ernor ; " but 1 expect a consideration for those matters.
For my part, 1 don't inquire into what does not concern
me ; but single and double are two things. If I lock up
double, I expect half a guinea ; and I'm sure the cap-
tain cannot think that's out of the way. It is but the
price of a bagnio."
Miss Matthews's face became the colour of scarlet at
those words : however, she mustered up her spirits, and,
turning to Booth, said, " What say you, captain 1 for
my own part, I had never less inclination to sleep.
Which has the greater charms for you, the punch or
the pillow ?" " 1 hope, madam," answered Booth, " you
have a better opinion of me than to doubt my preferring
Miss Matthews's conversation to either." " I assure
you," replied she, " it is no compliment to you to say I
prefer yours to sleep at this time."
The governor then, having received his fee, departed ;
and, turning the key, left the gentleman and the lady to
themselves.
In imitation of him, we will lock up likewise a scene,
which we do not think proper to expose to the eyes of
the public. If any over-curious readers should be dis-
appointed on this occasion, we will recommeud such
136 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
readers to the Apologies with which certain gay ladies
have lately been pleased to oblige the world, where
they w^ill possibly find everything recorded that passed
at this interval.
But though we decline painting the scene, it is not
our intention to conceal from the world the frailty of
Mr. Booth, or of his fair partner, who certainly passed
that evening in a manner inconsistent with the strictest
rules of virtue and chastity.
To say the truth, we are much more concerned for
the behaviour of the gentleman than of the lady ; not
only for his sake, but for the sake of the best woman
in the world, whom we should be sorry to consider as
yoked to a man of no worth nor honour.
We desire, therefore, the good-natured and candid
reader will be pleased to weigh attentively the several
unlucky circumstances, which concurred so critically,
that Fortune seemed to have used her utmost endeav-
ours to insnare poor Booth's constancy. Let the
reader set before his eyes a fine young woman, in a
manner, a first love, conferring obligations, and using
every art to soften, to allure, to win, and to inflame ;
let him consider the time and place ; let him remember
that Mr. Booth was a young fellow, in the highest vig-
our of life : and lastly, let him add one single circum-
stance, that the parties were alone together ; and then,
if he will not acquit the defendant, he must be con-
victed ; for I have nothing more to say in his defence.
Chapter II.— The latter part of which we expect -will please our
readers better than the former.
A WHOLE week did our lady and gentleman live in this
criminal conversation, in which the happiness of the
former was much more perfect than that of the latter;
for though the charms of Miss Matthews, and her ex-
cessive endearments, sometimes lulled every thought in
the sweet lethargy of pleasure, yet, in the intervals of
his fits, his virtue alarmed and roused him, and brought
the image of poor injured Amelia to haunt and torment
him. In fact, if we regard this world only, it is the
interest of every man to be either perfectly good or
completely bad : he had better destroy his conscience,
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 137
than gently wound it. The many bitter reflections
which every bad action costs a mind in which there
are any remains of goodness, are not to be compensa-
ted by the highest pleasures which such an action can
produce.
So it happened to Mr. Booth. Repentance never
failed to follow his transgressions; and yet, so perverse
is our judgment, and so slippery is the descent of vice,
when once we are entered into it, the same crime which
he now repented of became a reason for doing that
which was to cause his future repentance ; and he con-
tinued to sin on, because he had begun. His repent-
ance, however, returned still heavier and heavier, till, at
last, it flung him into a melancholy, which Miss Mat-
thews plainly perceived, and at which she could not
avoid expressing some resentment in obscure hints and
ironical compliments on Amelia's superiority to her
whole sex, who could not cloy a gay young fellow by
so many years possession. She would then repeat the
compliments which others had made to her own beauty ;
and could not forbear once crying out, " Upon my soul,
my dear Billy, I believe the chief disadvantage on my
side is in my superior fondness ; for love, in the minds of
men, has one quality, at least, of a fever, which is to
prefer coldness in the object. Confess, dear Will, is
there not something vastly refreshing in the cool air of
a prude ]" Booth fetched a deep sigh, and begged her
never more to mention Amelia's name. " Oh, Will,"
cries she, " did that request proceed from the motive I
could wish, I should be the happiest of womankind."
" You would not sure, madam," said Booth, " desire a
sacrifice, which I must be a villain to make to any V
*' Desire !" answered she : " are there any bounds to the
desires of love? have not I been sacrificed? has not
my first love been torn from my bleeding heart 1 I claim
a prior right. As for sacrifices, I can make them too ;
and would sacrifice the whole world at the least call of
my love."
Here she delivered a letter to Booth, which she had
received within an hour; the contents of which were
these : —
" Dearest Madam,
" Those only who truly know what love is, can have any con-
ception of the horrors I felt at hearing of your confinement at my
arrival in town, which was this morning. I immediately sent my
13*
138 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
lawyer to inquire into the particulars, who brought me the agreeable
news, that the man, whose heart's blood ought not to be valued at
the rate of a single hair of yours, is entirely out of all danger, and
that you might be admitted to bail. I presently ordered him to go
with two of my tradesmen, who are to be bound in any sum for
your appearance, if he should be mean enough to prosecute you.
Though you may expect my attorney with you soon, I would not
delay sending this, as I hope the news will be agreeable to you. My
chariot will attend at the same time to carry you wherever you
please. You may easily guess what a violence I have done to my-
self in not waiting on you in person : but I, who know your delicacy,
feared it might offend, and that you might think me ungenerous
enough to hope, from your distresses, a happiness which 1 am re-
solved to owe to your free gift alone, when your good-nature shall
induce you to bestow on me what no man living can merit. I beg
you will pardon all the contents of this hasty letter, and do me the
honour of believing me, dearest madam, your most passionate ad-
mirer, and most obedient humble servant, Damon."
Booth thought he had somewhere before seen the
same hand, but m his present hurry of spirits could not
recollect whose it was ; nor did the lady give him any
time for reflection : for he had scarce read the letter,
when she produced a little bit of paper, and cried out,
" Here, sir, here are the contents which he fears will
offend me." She then put a bank-bill of a hundred
pounds into Mr. Booth's hand, and asked him, with a
smile, if he did not think she had reason to be offended
with so much insolence.
Before Booth could return any answer, the governor
arrived, and introduced Mr. Rogers the attorney, who
acquainted the lady that he had brought her discharge
from her confinement, and that a chariot waited at the
door to attend her wherever she pleased.
She received the discharge from xMr. Rogers, and said,
she was very much obliged to the gentleman who em-
ployed him, but that she would not make use of the
chariot, as she had no notion of leaving that wretched
place in a triumphant manner; in which resolution,
when the attorney found her obstinate, he withdrew,
as did the governor, with many bows, and as many
ladyships.
They were no sooner gone, than Booth asked the
lady why she would refuse the chariot of a gentleman
who had behaved with such excessive respect 1 She
looked earnestly upon him, and cried, " How unkind is
that question ! Do you imagine I would go, and leave
you in such a situation? Thou knowest but little of
I
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 139
Calista. Why, do you think I would accept this hun-
dred pounds from a man I dishke, unless it was to be
serviceable to the man I love 1 I insist on your taking
it as your own, and using whatever j^ou want of it."
" Booth protested, in the solemnest manner, that he
would not touch a shilhng of it, saying-, he had already
received too many obligations at her hands, and more
than ever he should be able, he feared, to repay. '* How
unkind," answered she, " is every word 3^ou say ! why
will you mention obligations 1 love never confers any.
It does everything for its own sake. I am not there-
fore obliged to the man whose passion makes him gen-
erous; for I feel how inconsiderable the whole world i
would appear to me, if I could throw it after my heart.*' :'
Much more of this kind passed, she still pressing the ^-'
bank-note upon him, and he as absolutely refusing, tilj ?
Booth left the lady to dress herself, and went to walk |
in the area of the prison. ■
Miss Matthews now applied to the governor, to know
by what means she might procure the captain his liberty. ]
The governor answered, " As he cannot get bail, it will \
be a difficult matter; and money, to be sure, there must v
be; for people, no doubt, expect to touch on these oc-
casions. When prisoners have not wherewithal as the
law requires to entitle themselves to justice, why they
must be beholden to other people to give them their
liberty ; and people v/ill not, to be sure, suffer others to
be beholden to them for nothing, whereof there is good
reason ; for how should we all live if it was not for these
things V " Well, well," said she, " and how much will
it cost?" "How much?" answered he : " how much 1
why, let me see." Here he hesitated some time, and
then answered, that for five guineas he would undertake
to procure the captain his discharge, that being the sum
which he computed to remain in the lady's pocket; for
as to the gentleman's, he had long been acquainted with
the emptiness of it.
Miss Matthews, to whom money was as dirt, (indeed,
she may be thought not to have known the value of it,)
delivered him the bank-bill, and bid him get it changed ;
" for if the whole," says she, " will procure him his
liberty, he shall have it this evening."
" The whole, madam ?" answered the governor, as
soon as he had recovered his breath ; for it almost for-
sook him at the sight of the black word hundred : " No,
140 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
no. There might be people indeed — but I am not one
of those. A hundred! no, nor nothing like it. As for
myself, as I said, I will be content with five guineas, and
I am sure that's little enough. What other people wili
expect, I cannot exactly say. To be sure, his worship's
clerk will expect to touch pretty handsomely t as for
his worship himself, he never touches anything, tliat is,
not to speak of; but then the constable will expect some-
thing, and the watchmen must have something; and
the lawyers on both sides, they must have thei-r fees
for finishing." " Well," said she, " I leave all to you.
If it costs me twenty pounds I will have him discharged
this afternoon. But you must give his discharge into
my hands, without Jetting the captain know any^hijigof
the matter."
The governor promised to obey her commands in
every particular ; nay, he was so very industrious, thai
though dinner was just then coming upon the table, at
her earnest request, he &et out immediately on the pur-
pose, and went, as he said, in pursuit of the lawyer.
All the other company assemWed at table as usual,
where poor Booth was the only person out af spirits.
This was imputed by all present to a wrang cause ; nay.
Miss Matthew^s herself either could not or would not
suspect that there was anything deeper than the despair
of being speedily discharged, that lay heavy on his
mind.
However, the mirth of the rest, and a pretty liberal
quantity of punch, which he swallowed after dinner,
(for Miss Matthews had ordered a very large bowl at
her own expense, to entertain the good company at her
farewell,) so far exhilaratewi his spirits, that, when th«
young lady and he retired to their tea, he had all the
marks ofgayety in his countenance, and his eyes sparkled
with good humour.
The gentleman and lady had spent about two hours
in tea and conversation, when the governor returned,
and privately delivered to the lady the discharge for her
friend, and the sum of eighty-two pounds five shillings ;
the rest having been, he said, disbursed in the business,
of which he was ready at any time to render an exact
account.
Miss Matthews being again alone with Mr. Booth, she
put the discharge into his hands, desiring him to ask
her no questions ; and adding, " I think, sir, we have
V///////.y // //^.r//rr/rr/ /■/.;/'/
/
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 141
neither of us now anything more to do at this place."
She then summoned the governor, and ordered a bill of
that day's expense, for long scores were not usual there ;
and, at the same time, ordered a hackiiey-coach, with-
out having yet determined whither she would go ; but
fully determined she was, wherever she went, to take
Mr. Booth with her.
The governor was now approaching with a long roll
of paper, when a faint voice was heard to cry out has-
tily, " Where is he V and presently a female spectre,
all pale and breathless, rushed into the room, and fell
into Mr. Booth's arms, where she immediately fainted
away.
Booth made a shift to support his lovely burden,
though he v.'as himself in a condition very little different
from hers. Miss Matthews likewise, who presently rec-
ollected the face of Amelia, was struck motionless with
the surprise ; nay, the governor himself, though not
easily moved at sights of horror, stood aghast, and
neither offered to speak nor stir.
Happily for Amelia, the governess of the mansion had,
out of curiosity, followed her into the room, and was
the only useful person present on this occasion: she
immediately called for water, and ran to the lady's as-
sistance, fell to loosening her stays, and performed all
the ofhces proper at such a season; which had so good
an effect, that Amelia soon recovered the disorder which
the violent agitation of her spirits had caused, and found
herself alive and awake in her husband's arms.
Some tender caresses, and a soft whisper or two,
passed privately between Booth and his lady ; nor was
it without great difficulty that poor Amelia put some
restraint on her fondness, in a place so improper for a
tender interview. She now cast her eyes round the
room, and fixing them on Miss Matthews, who stood like
a statue, she soon recollected her, and addressing her by
her name, said, " Sure, madam, I cannot be mistaken in
those features ; though meeting you here might almost
make me suspect my memory."
Miss Matthews's face was now all covered with scarlet.
The reader may easily believe she was on no account
pleased with Amelia's presence ; indeed, she expected
from her someof those insults, of which virtuous women
are generally so liberal to a frail sister ; but she was
mistaken. AmeUa was not one—
142 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
" Who thought the nation ne'er would thrive
Till all the w s were burnt alive."
Her virtue could support itself with its own intrinsic
worth, without borrowing any assistance from the vices
of other women ; and she considered their natural in-
firmities as the objects of pity, not of contempt or ab-
horrence.
When Amelia therefore perceived the visible confu-
sion in Miss Matthews, she presently called to remem-
brance some stories which she had imperfectly heard ;
for as she was not naturally attentive to scandal, and
had kept very little company since her return to Eng-
land, she was far from being mistress of the lady's whole
history. However, she had heard enough to impute
her confusion to the right cause : she advanced to her,
and told her, she was extremely sorry to meet her in
such a place, but hoped that no very great misfortune
was the occasion of it.
Miss Matthews began, by degrees, to recover her
spirits. She answered, with a reserved air, "I am
much obliged to you, madam, for your concern : we are
all liable to misfortunes in this world. Indeed, 1 know
not why I should be much ashamed of being in any
place where I am in such good company."
Here Booth interposed. He had before acquainted
Amelia, in a whisper, that his confinement was at an
end. " The unfortunate accident, my dear," said he,
" which brought this young lady to this melancholy
place is entirely determined, and she is now as abso-
lutely at her liberty as myself."
Amelia, imputing the extreme coldness and reserve
of the lady to the cause already mentioned, advanced
still more and more in proportion as she drew back ;
till the governor, who had withdrawn some time, re-
turned, and acquainted Miss Matthews that her coach
was at the door ; upon which the company soon separ-
ated. Amelia and Booth went together in Amelia's
coach, and poor Miss Matthews was obliged to retire
alone, after having satisfied the demands of the governor,
which in one day only had amounted to a pretty consid-
erable sum ; for he, with great dexterity, proportioned
the bills to the abilities of his guests.
It may seem, perhaps, wonderful to some readers,
',hat Miss Matthews should have maintained that cold
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA, 143
reserve towards Amelia, so as barely to keep within the
rules of civility, instead of embracinsj an opportunity,
which seemed to oifer, of gaining some degree of inti-
macy with a wife whose husband she was so fond of;
but, besides that her spirits were entirely disconcerted
by so sudden and unexpected a disappointment, and be-
sides the extreme horrors which she conceived at the
presence of her rival, there is, I believe, something so
outrageously suspicious in the nature of all vice, espe-
cially when joined with any great degree of pride,
that the eyes of those whom we imagine privy to our
failings are intolerable to us ; and we are apt to aggra-
vate their opinions to our disadvantage far beyond the
reality.
Chapter III. — Containing wise observations of the author, and
other matters.
There is nothing more difficult than to lay down any
fixed and certain rules for happiness, or indeed to judge,
with any precision, of the happiness of others, from the
knowledge of external circumstances. There is some-
times a little speck of black in the brightest and gayest
colours of fortune, which contaminates and deadens
the whole : on the contrary, when all without looks
dark and dismal, there is often a secret ray of light
within the mind which turns everything to real joy and
gladness.
I have, in the course of my life, seen many occasions
to make this observation ; and Mr. Booth was at present
a very pregnant instance of its truth. He was just de-
livered from a prison, and in the possession of his be-
loved wife and children ; and (which might be imagined
greatly to augment his joy) fortune had done all this for
him within an hour, without giving him the least warn-
ing or reasonable expectation of this strange reverse in
his circumstances ; and yet it is certain, that there were
very few men in the world more seriously miserable
than he was at this instant. A deep melancholy seized
his mind, and cold damp sweats overspread his person,
so that he was scarce animated ; and poor Amelia, in-
stead of a fond, warm husband, bestowed her caresses
on a dull, lifeless lump of clay. He endeavoured, how-
144 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
ever, at first, as much as possible, to conceal what h&
felt, and attempted^ what is the hardest of all tasks, to
act the part of a happy man ; but he foimd no supply of
spirits to carry on his deceit, and would have probably
sunk under his attempt, had not poor Amelia's simplicity
helped him to another fallacy, in which he had much
better success.
This worthy woman very plainly perceived the dis-
order in her husband's mind ; and having no doubt of
the cause of it, especially when she saw the tears stand
in his eyes at the sight of his children, threw her arms
round his neck, and, embracing him with rapturous fond-
ness, cried out, " My dear Billy, let nothing make you
uneasy : Heaven will, I doubt not, provide for us and
these poor babes. Great fortunes are not necessary to
happiness : for my own part, I can level my mind with
any state ; and for those poor little things, whatever
condition of life we breed them to, that will be sufficient
to maintain them in. How many thousands abound in
affluence, whose fortunes are much lower than ours !
for it is not from nature, but from education and habit,
that our wants are chiefly derived. Make yourself easy,
therefore, my dear love; for you have a wife who will
think herself happy with you, and endeavour to make
you so in any situation. Fear nothing, Billy ; industry
will always provide us a wholesome meal ; and I will
take care that neatness and cheerfulness shall make it
a pleasant one."
Booth presently took the cue which she had given
him. He fixed his eyes on her for a minute with great
earnestness and inexpressible tenderness ; and then
cried, " Oh, my Amelia, how much are you my superior
in every perfection ! how wise, how great, how noble
are your sentiments ! Why can I not imitate what I so
much admire ] why can I not look with your constancy
on those dear little yjledges of our loves 1 All my phi-
losophy is baffled with the thought that my Amelia's
children are to strus^gle v.ith a cruel, hard, unfeeling
world, and to buffet those waves of fortune which have
overwhelmed their father. Here I own I want your
firmness, and am not without an excuse for wanting it ;
for am I not the cruel cause of all your wretchedness 1
have I not stepped between you and fortune, and been
the cursed obstacle to all your greatness and happiness V
" Say not so, my love," answered she : " great i
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 145
might have been, but never happy with any other man.
Indeed, dear Billy, I laugh at the fears you formerly
raised in me: what seemed so terrible at a distance,
now it approaches nearer, appears to have been a mere
bugbear : and let. this comfort you ; that I look on my-
self at this day as the happiest of women ; nor have I
done anything which I do not rejoice in, and would, if I
had the gift of prescience, do again."
Booth was so overcome with this behaviour, that he
had no words to answer; to say the truth, it was diffi-
cult to find any worthy of the occasion. He threw
himself prostrate at her feet, whence poor Amelia was
forced to use all her strength, as well as entreaties, to
raise, and place him in his chair.
Such is ever the fortitude of perfect innocence, and
such the depression of guilt in minds not utterly aban-
doned. Booth was naturally of a sanguine temper ; nor
would any such apprehensions as he mentioned have
been sufficient to have restrained his joy at meeting
with his Amelia : in fact, a reflection on the injury he
had done her was the sole cause of his grief : this it
was that enervated his heart, and threw him into ago-
nies, which all that profusion of heroic tenderness, that
the most excellent of women intended for his comfort,
served only to heighten and aggravate ; as the more she
rose in his admiration, the more she quickened his sense
of his own unworthiness.
After a disagreeable evening, the first of that kind
that he had ever passed with his Amelia, in which he
had the utmost difficulty to force a little cheerfulness,
and in which her spirits were at length overpowered by
discerning the oppression on his, they retired to rest, or
rather to misery, which need not be described.
The next morning, at breakfast, Booth began to re-
cover a little from his melancholy, and to taste the com-
pany of his children. He now first thought of inquiring
of Amelia by what means she had discovered the place
of his confinement. Amelia, after gently rebuking him
for not having himself acquainted her with it, informed
him that it was known all over the country, and that
she had traced the original of it to her sister, who had
spread the news with a malicious joy, and added a cir-
cumstance which would have frightened her to death,
had not her knowledge of him made her give little credit
to it, which was, that he was committed for murder.
13 G
146 THE HISTORY OP AxMELIA.
But though she had discredited this part, she said, that
not hearing from him, during several successive posts,
made her too apprehensive of the rest ; that she got a
conveyance therefore for herself and children to Salis-
bury, from whence the stagecoach had brought them to
town ; and having deposited the children at his lodging,
of which he had sent her an account on his first arrival
in town, she took a hack, and came directly to the
prison where she heard he was, and where she found
him.
Booth excused himself, and with truth, as to his not
having written ; for, in fact, he had written twice from
the prison, though he had mentioned nothing of his con-
finement ; but, as he sent away his letters after nine at
night, the fellow to whom they were intrusted had
burnt them both, for the sake of putting the twopence
in his own pocket, or rather in the pocket of the keeper
of the next gin-shop.
As to the account which Amelia gave him, it served
rather to raise than satisfy his curiosity. He began to
suspect that some person had seen both him and Miss
Matthews together in the prison, and had confounded
her case with his ; and this the circumstance of murder
made the more probable: but who this person should
be, he could not guess. After giving himself therefore
some pains in forming conjectures to no purpose, he
was forced to rest contented with his ignorance of the
real truth.
Two or three days now passed without producing
anything remarkable, unless it were, that Booth more
and more recovered his spirits, and had now almost re-
gained his former degree of cheerfulness, when the fol-
lo\^^ng letter arrived, again to torment him : —
"Dear Bir.Lr,
" To convince you I am the most reasonable of women, I have
given you up three whole days to the unmolested possession of my
fortunate rival. I can refrain no longer from letting you know that 1
lodge in Dean-street, not far from the church, at the sign of the
Pelican and Trumpet, where I expect this evening to see you. Be-
lieve me, I am, with more affection than any other woman m the
world can be, my dear Billy, your affectionate, fond, doting,
"F. Matthews."
Booth tore the letter with rage, and threw it into the
fire ; resolving never to visit the lady more, unless it
was to pay her the money she had lent him, which he
i
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 147
was determined to do the very first opportunity ; for it
was not at present in his power.
This letter threw him back into his fit of dejection, in
which he had not continued long, when a packet from
the country brought him the following from his friend
Dr. Harrison: —
"Sir, Lyons, Jan. 21, N. S.
" Though I am now on my return home, I have taken up my pen
to communicate to you some news 1 have heard from England,
which gives me much uneasiness, and concerning which I can in-
deed deliver my sentiments with much more ease this way than any
other. In my answer to your last, I very freely gave you my opinion,
in which it was my misfortune to disapprove of every step you had
taken ; but those were all pardonable errors. Can you be so partial
to yourself, upon cool and sober reflection, to think what I am going
to mention is so ? I promise you, it appears to me a folly of so mon-
strous a kind, that, had 1 h^eardit from any but a person of the highest
honour, I should have rejected it as utterly incredible. I hope you
already guess what I am about to name ; since Heaven forbid your
conduct should afford you any choice of such gross instances of
weakness ! In a word, then, you have set up an equipage. What
shall I invent in your excuse, either to others or to myself .' In truth,
I can find no excuse for you, and, what is more, I am certain you
can find none for yourself. I must deal, therefore, very plainly and
sincerely with you. Vanity is always contemptible; but, when
joined with dishonesty, it becomes odious and detestable. At whose
expense are you to support this equipage ? Is it not entirely at the
■expense of others ? and will it not finally end in the ruin of your
poor wife and children ? You know you are two years in arrears to
me. If 1 could impute this to any extraordinary or common accident,
I think I should never have mentioned it ; but I will not suffer my
money to support the ridiculous, and, I must say, criminal vanity of
any one : I expect, therefore, to find, at my return, that you have
either discharged my whole debt or your equipage. Let me beg you
seriously to consider your circumstances and condition in hfe, and to
remember that your situation will not justify any the least unnecessary
expense. ' Simply to be poor,' says my favourite Greek historian,
^ was not held scandalous by the wise Athenians ; but highly so, to
owe that poverty to our own indiscretion.' Present my affections to
Mrs. Booth, and be assured that I shall not, without great reason,
and great pain too, ever cease to be your most faithful friend,
" R. Harrison.'*
Had this letter come at any other time, it would have
given Booth the most sensible affliction ; but so totally
had the affair of Miss Matthews possessed his mind,
that, like a man in the most raging fit of the gout, he
was scarce capable of any additional torture ; nay, he
even made a use of this latter epistle, as it served to ac-
count to A.melia for that concern which he really felt
on another account. The poor deceived lady, there-
G2
148 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
fore, applied herself to give him comfort where he least
wanted it. She said he might easily perceive that the
matter had been misrepresented to the doctor, who
would not, she was sure, retain the least anger against
him when he knew the real truth.
After a short conversation on this subject, in which
Booth appeared to be greatly consoled by the arguments
of his wife, they parted : he went to take a walk in
the Park, and she remained at home to prepare him his
dinner.
He was no sooner departed, than his little boy, not
quite six years old, said to Amelia, " La! mamma, what
is the matter with poor papa 1 what makes him look so
as if he was going to cry ] he is not half so merry as
he used to be in the country." Amelia answered, *' Oh,
my dear, your papa is only a little thoughtful ; he will
be merry again soon." Then, looking fondly on her
children, she burst into an agony of tears, and cried,
" Oh Heavens ! what have these poor little infants done ]
why will the barbarous world endeavour to starve them,
by depriving us of our only friend] Oh, my dear, your
father is ruined, and we are undone I'' The children
presently accompanied their mother's tears, and the
daughter cried, " Why will anybody hurt poor papa?
has^^he done any harm to anybody!" "No, my dear
child," said the mother : " he is the best man in the
world, and therefore they hate him." Upon which, the
boy, who was extremely sensible at his years, answered,
" Nay, mamma, how can that be 1 have you not often
told me, that if I was good, everybody would love me ?"
" All good people will," answered she. " Why don't
they love papa tnen V replied the child ; " for I am sure
he is very good." "So they do, my dear," said the
mother : " but there are more bad people in the world,
and they will hate you for your goodness." " W'hy then,
bad people," cries the child, " are loved by more than
the good." — " No matter for that, my dear," said she :
" the love of one good person is more worth having,
than that of a thousand wicked ones : nay, if there was
no such person in the world, still you must be a good
boy ; for there is One in heaven who will love you, and
his love is better for you than that of all mankind."
This little dialogue, we are apprehensive, will be read
with contempt by many : indeed, we should not have
thought it worth recording, was it not for the excellent
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 149
example which Amelia here gives to all mothers. This
admirable woman never let a day pass without instruct-
ing her children in some lesson of religion and mo-
rality ; by which means she had, in their tender minds,
so strongly annexed the ideas of fear and shame to every
idea of evil of which they were susceptible, that it must
require great pains and length of habit to separate them.
Though she was the tenderest of mothers, she never
suffered any symptom of malevolence to show itself in
their most trifling actions without discouragement, with-
out rebuke ; and, if it broke forth with any rancour, with-
out punishment : in which she had such success, that
not the least marks of pride, envy, malice, or spite dis-
covered itself in any of their little words or deeda.
Chapter IV.— In which Amelia appears in no unamiable light.
Amelia, with the assistance of a little girl, who was
their only servant, had dressed her dinner ; and she
had likewise dressed herself as neat as any lady, who
had a regular set of servants, could have done ; when
Booth returned, and brought with him his friend James,
whom he had met with in the Park ; and who, as Booth
absolutely refused to dine away from his wife, to whom
he had promised to return, had invited himself to dine
with him. Amelia had none of that paltry pride which
possesses so many of her sex, and which disconcerts
their tempers, and gives them the air and looks of furies,
if their husbands bring in an unexpected guest, without
giving them timely warning to provide a sacrifice to
their own vanity. Amelia received her husband's friend
with the utmost complaisance and good humour : she
made, indeed, some apology for the homeliness of her
dinner ; but it was politely turned as a compliment to
Mr. James's friendship, which could carry him where
he was sure of being so ill entertained ; and gave not
the least hint how magnificently she would have pro-
vided, had she expected th« favour of so much good
company ; — a phrase which is generally meant to con-
tain, not only an apology for the lady of the house, but
a tacit satire on her guests for their intrusion, and is at
least a strong insinuation that they are not welcome.
Amelia failed not to inquire very earnestly after her
13*
150 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
old friend Mrs. James, formerly Miss Bath, and was very
sorry to find she was not in town. The truth was, as
James had married out of a violent liking of, or appetite
to, her person, possession had surfeited him; and he
was now grown so heartily tired of his wife, that she
had very little of his company : she was forced there-
fore to content herself with being the mistress of a large
house and equipage in the country, ten months in the
year by herself: the other two he indulged her with the
diversions of the town ; but then, though they lodged
under the same roof, she had little more of her hus-
band's society than if they had been one hundred miles
apart. With all this, as she was a woman of calm pas-
sions, she made herself contented ; for she had never
had any violent affection for James: the match was of
the prudent kind, and to her advantage ; for his fortune,
by the death of an uncle, was become very considera-
ble ; and she had gained everything by the bargain but
a husband, which her constitution suffered her to be
very v/ell satisfied without.
When Amelia, after dinner, retired to her children,
James began to talk to his friend concerning his af-
fairs. He advised Booth very earnestly to think of
getting again into the army, in which he himself had
met with such success, that he had obtained the com-
mand of a regiment, to which his brother-in-law was
lieutenant colonel. These preferments they both owed
to the favour of fortune only ; for though there was
no objection to either of their military characters, yet
neither of them had any extraordinary desert ; and, if
merit in the service was a sufficient recommendation,
Booth, who had been twice wounded in the siege, seemed
to have the fairest pretensions ; but he remained a poor
half-pay lieutenant, and the others were, as we have
said, one of them a lieutenant colonel, and the other
had a regiment. Such rises we often see in life, with-
out being able to give any satisfactory account of the
means, and therefore ascribe them to the good fortune
of the person.
Both Colonel James and his brother-in-law were mem-
bers of parliament ; for, as the uncle of the former had
left him, together with his estate, an almost certain in-
terest in a borough, so he chose to confer this favour on
Colonel Bath ; a circumstance which would have been
highly immaterial to mention here, but as it serves to
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 151
set forth the goodness of James, who endeavoured to
make up in kindness to the family, what he wanted in
fondness for his wife.
Colonel James then endeavoured all in his power to
persuade Booth to think again of a military life, and
very kindly otfered him his interest towards obtaining
him a company in the regiment under his command.
Booth must have been a madman, in his present circum-
stances, to have hesitated one moment at accepting
such an offer ; and he well knew Amelia, notwithstand-
ing her aversion to the army, was much too wise to
make the least scruple of giving her consent. Nor was
he, as it appeared afterward, mistaken in his opinion
of his wife's understanding : for she made not the least
objection when it was communicated to her, but con-
tented herself with an express stipulation, that wher-
ever he was commanded to go (for the regiment was
now abroad) she would accompany him.
Booth, therefore, accepted his friend's proposal with
a profusion of acknowledgments ; and it was agreed
that Booth should draw up a memorial of his preten-
sions, which Colonel James undertook to present to
some man of power, and to back it with all the force
he had.
Nor did the friendship of the colonel stop here. " You
will excuse me, dear Booth," said he, " if, after what
you have told me," (for he had been very explicit in re-
vealing his affairs to him,) " I suspect you must want
money at this time. If that be the case, as I am cer-
tain it must be, I have fifty pieces at your service."
This generosity brought the tears into Booth's eyes,
and he at length confessed, that he had not five guineas
in the house ; upon which James gave him a bank bill
for twenty pounds, and said he would give him thirty
more the next time he saw him.
Thus did this generous colonel (for generous he really
v/as to the highest degree) restore peace and comfort
to this little family; and, by this act of beneficence,
make two of the worthiest people two of the happiest
that evening.
Here, reader, give me leave to stop a minute, to
lament that so few are to be found of this benign dis-
position ; that, while wantonness, vanity, avarice, and
ambition are every day rioting and triumphing in the
follies and weakness, the ruin and desolation of man-
152 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
kind, scarce one man in a thousand is capable of tasting
the happiness of others. Nay, give me leave to wonder,
that pride, which is constantly struggling, and often im-
posing on itself, to gain some little pre-eminence, should
so seldom hint to us the only certain, as well as lauda-
ble way of setting ourselves above another man, and
that is, by becoming his benefactor.
Chapter V. — Containing a eulogium upon innocence, and other
grave matters.
Booth passed that evening, and all the succeeding day,
with his Amelia, without the interruption of almost a sin-
gle thought concerning Miss Matthews, after having de-
termined to go on the Sunday, the only day he could
venture without the verge in the present state of his
affairs, and pay her what she had advanced for him in the
prison. But she had not so long patience ; for the third
day, while he was sitting with Amelia, a letter was
brought to him. As he knew the hand, he immediately
put it into his pocket unopened, not without such an al-
teration in his countenance, that, had Amelia, who was
then playing with one of the children, cast her eyes to-
wards him, she must have remarked it. This accident,
however, luckily gave him time to recover himself; for
Amelia was so deeply engaged with the little one, that she
did not even remark the delivery of the letter. The maid
soon after returned into the room, saying, the chairman
desired to know if there was any answer to the letter.
" What letter ?" cries Booth. " The letter I gave you
just now," answered the girl. " Sure," cries Booth, " the
child is mad ! you gave me no letter." " Yes, indeed I
did, sir," said the poor girl. " Why then, as sure as fate,"
cries Booth, " I threw it into the fire in my revery : why,
child, why did you not tell me it was a letter ] Bid the
chairman come up : stay, I will go down myself ; for he
will otherwise dirt the stairs with his feet."
Amelia was gently chiding the girl for her carelessness,
when Booth returned, saying, it was very true that she
had delivered him a letter from Colonel James, and that
Eerhaps it might be of consequence. " However," says
e, ♦' I will step to the coffee-house, and send him an ac-
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 153
count of this strange accident, which I know he will par-
don in my present situation."
Booth was overjoyed at this escape, which poor Ame-
lia's total want of all jealousy and suspicion made it
very easy for him to accomplish; but his pleasure was
considerably abated when, upon opening the letter, he
found it to contain, mixed with several very strong ex-
pressions of love, some pretty warm ones of the upbraid-
ing kind ; but what most alarmed him was a hint, that it
was in her (Miss Matthews's) power to make Amelia as
miserable as herself. Besides the general knowledge of
furens quid fcsmina possit,
he had more particular reasons to apprehend the rage of
a lady who had given so strong an instance how far she
could carry her revenge. She had already sent a chair-
man to his lodgings, with a positive command not to re-
turn without an answer to her letter. This might, of
itself, have possibly occasioned a discovery ; and he
thought he had great reason to fear, that if she did not
carry matters so far as purposely and avowedly to reveal
the secret to Amelia, her indiscretion would at least effect
the discovery of that which he would at any price have
concealed. Under these terrors, he might, I believe, be
considered as the most wretched of human beings.
Oh, innocence, how glorious and happy a portion art
thou to the breast that possesses thee ! thou fearest nei-
ther the eyes nor the tongues of men. Truth, the most
powerful of all things, is thy strongest friend ; and the
brighter the light is in which thou art displayed, the
more it discovers thy transcendent beauties. Guilt, on
the contrary, like a base thief, suspects every eye that
beholds him to be privy to his transgressions, and every
tongue that mentions his name to be proclaiming them.
Fraud and falsehood are his weak and treacherous allies :
and he lurks trembling in the dark, dreading every ray
of light, lest it should discover him, and give him up to
shame and punishment.
While Booth was walking in the Park with all these
horrors in his mind, he again met his friend, Colonel
James, who soon took notice of that deep concern which
the other was incapable of hiding. After some little
conversation, Booth said, *' My dear colonel, I am sure I
must be the most insensible of men, if I did not look on
you as the best and the truest friend ; I will therefore,
G3
1S4 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
witliout scruple, repose a confidence in you of the
highest kind. I have often made you privy to my neces-
sities, I will now acquaint you with my shame, provided
you have leisure enough to give me a hearing : for I
must open to you a long history ; since I will not reveal
my fault, without informing you, at the same time, of
those circumstances which, I hope, will in some meas-
ure excuse it."
The colonel very readily agreed to give his friend a
patient hearing ; so they walked directly to a coifee-
house at the corner of Spring Gardens, where, being in a
room by themselves, Booth opened his whole heart, and
acquainted the colonel with his amour with Miss Mat-
thews, from the very beginning, to his receiving that
letter which had caused all his present uneasiness, and
which he now delivered into his friend's hands.
The colonel read the letter very attentively twice over,
(he was silent, indeed, long enough to have read it often-
er,) and then, turning to Booth, said, "Well, sir, and is
it so grievous a calamity to be the object of a younglady's
affection, especially of one whom you allow to be so
extremely handsome V "Nay, but my dear friend,"
cries Booth, '' do not jest with me ; you who know my
Amelia." " Weil, my dear friend," answered James,
" and you know Amelia, and this lady too. But what
would you have me do for you V "I would have you
give me your advice," says Booth, " by what method I
shall get rid of this dreadful woman without a discovery."
" And do you really," cries the other, " desire to get rid
of her V " Can you doubt it," says Booth, " after what
I have communicated to you, and after what you your-
self have seen in my family 1 for I hope, notwithstanding
this fatal slip, I do not appear to you in the light of a
profligate." " Well," answered James, " and whatever
light I may appear to you in, if you are really tired of the
lady, and if she be really what you have represented her,
I'll endeavour to take her off your hands: but I insist
upon it that you do not deceive me in any particular."
Booth protested, in the most solemn manner, that every
word which he had spoken was strictly true ; and being
asked whether he would give his honour never more to
visit the lady, he assured James that he never would.
He then, at his friend's request, delivered him Miss Mat-
thews's letter, in which was a second direction to her
lodgings, and declared to him that if he could bring him
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 155
safely out of this terrible affair, he should think him-
self to have a still higher obligation to his friendship,
than any which he had already received from it.
Booth pressed the colonel to go home with him to
dinner ; but he excused himself, being, as he said, al-
ready engaged. However, he undertook in the afternoon
to do all iji his power, that Booth should receive no
more alarms from the quarter of Miss Matthews, whom
the colonel undertook to pay all the demands she had on
his friend. They then separated. The colonel went to
dinner at the King's Arms, and Booth returned in high
spirits to meet his Amelia.
The next day, early in the morning, the colonel came
to the coffee-house, and sent for his friend, who lodged
but at a little distance. The colonel told him he had a
little exaggerated the lady's beauty ; however, he said,
he excused that ; " For you might think, perhaps," cries
he, " that your inconstancy to the finest woman in the
world might want some excuse. Be that as it will,"
said he, " you make yourself easy ; as it will be, I am
convinced, your own fault, if you have ever any farther
molestation from Miss Matthews."
Booth poured forth, very warmly, a great profusion of
gratitude on this occasion ; and nothing more anywise
material passed at this interview, which was very short,
the colonel being in a great hurry, as he had, he said,
some business of very great importance to transact that
morning.
The colonel had now seen Booth twice, without re-
membering to give him the thirty pounds. This the
latter imputed entirely to forgetfulness ; for he had
always found the promises of the former to be equal in
value to the notes or bonds of other people. He was
more surprised at what happened the next day, when,
meeting his friend in the Park, he received only a cold
salute from him ; and though he passed him five or six
times, and the colonel was walking with a single officer
of no great rank, and with whom he seemed in no ear-
nest conversation, yet could not Booth, who was alone,
obtain any farther notice from him.
This gave the poor man some alarm ; though he
could scarce persuade himself there was any design in
all this coldness or forgetfulness. Once he imagined
that he had lessened himself in the colonel's opinion, by
having discovered his inconstancy to Amelia ; but the
156 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
known character of the other presently cured him of the
suspicion ; for he was a perfect hbertine with regard to
women ; that being indeed the principal blemish in his
character, which otherwise might have deserved much
commendation for good-nature, generosity, and friend-
ship : but he carried this one to a most unpardonable
height ; and made no scruple of openly declaring, that
if he ever liked a woman well enough to be uneasy on
her account, he would cure himself, if he could, by en-
joying her, whatever might be the consequence.
Booth could not therefore be persuaded that the col-
onel would so highly resent in another a fault, of which
he was himself most notoriously guilty. After much
consideration, he could derive this behaviour from noth-
ing better than a capriciousness in his friend's temper ;
from a kind of inconstancy of mind, which makes men
grow weary of their friends, with no more reason than
they often are of their mistresses. To say the truth,
there are jilts in friendship as well as in love ; and by
the behaviour of some men in both, one would almost
imagine that they industriously sought to gain the affec-
tions of others, with a view only of making the parties
miserable.
This was the consequence of the colonel's behaviour
to Booth. Former calamities had afflicted him, but this
almost distracted him ; and the more so, as he was not
able well to account for such conduct, nor to conceive
the reason of it.
Amelia, at his return, presently perceived the disturb-
ance in his mind, though he endeavoured, with his ut-
most power, to hide it ; and he was at length prevailed
upon by her entreaties to discover to her the cause of it ;
which she no sooner heard, than she applied as judicious
a remedy to his disordered spirits, as either of those
great mental physicians, Tully or Aristotle, could have
thought of. She used many arguments to persuade him
that he was in an error, and had mistaken forgetfulness
and carelessness for a designed neglect.
But, as this physic was only eventually good, and as
its efficacy depended on her being in the right, a point in
which she was not apt to be too positive, she thought
fit to add some consolation of a more certain and posi-
tive kind. " Admit," said she, " my dear, that Mr.
James should prove the unaccountable person you have
suspected, and should, without being able to allege any
i
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 157
cause, withdraw his friendship from you, (for surely the
accident of burning his letter is too trifling and ridicu-
lous to mention,) why should this grieve you 1 the obli-
gations he has conferred on you, I allow, ought to make
his misfortunes almost your own ; but they should not,
I think, make you see his faults so very sensibly, espe-
cially when, by one of the greatest faults in the world
committed against yourself, he has considerably les-
sened all obligations ; for sure, if the same person who
has contributed to my happiness at one time, does every-
thing in his power maliciously and wantonly to make
me miserable at another, I am very little obhged to such
a person. And let it be a comfort to my dear Billy,
that, however other friends may prove false and fickle
to him, he has one friend, whom no inconstancy of her
own, nor any change of his fortune, nor time, nor age,
nor sickness, nor any accident, can ever alter; but who
will esteem, will love, and dote on him for ever." So
saying, she flung her snowy arms about his neck, and
gave him a caress so tender, that it seemed almost to
balance all the malice of his fate.
And, indeed, the behaviour of Amelia would have
made him completely happy, in defiance of all adverse
circumstances, had it not been for those bitter ingredi-
ents which he himself had thrown into his cup; and
which prevented him from truly relishing his Amelia's
sweetness, by cruelly reminding him how unworthy
he was of this excellent creature.
Booth did not long remain in the dark as to the
conduct of James, which, at first, appeared to him to be
so great a mystery ; for this very afternoon he received
a letter from Miss Matthews, which unravelled the whole
aff^air. By this letter, which was full of bitterness and
upbraiding, he discovered that James was his rival with
that lady, and was, indeed, the identical person who had
sent the hundred-pound note to Miss Matthews, when
in the prison. He had reason to believe likewise, as
well by the letter as by other circumstances, that James
had hitherto been an unsuccessful lover ; for the lady,
though she had forfeited all title to virtue, had not yet
so far forfeited all pretensions to dehcacy, as to be, like
the dirt in the street, indifferently common to all. She
distributed her favours only to those she liked, in which
number that gentleman had not the happiness of being
included.
14
168 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
When Booth had made this discovery, he was not so
little versed in human nature, as any longer to hesitate
at the true motive of the colonel's conduct ; for he well
knew how odious a sight a happy rival is to an unfortu-
nate lover. 1 beheve he was, m reality, glad to assign
the cold treatment he had received from his friend, to a
cause which, however unjustifia^ble, is at the same time
highly natural ; and to acquit him of a levity, fickleness,
and caprice, which he must have been unwiUingly
obliged to have seen in a much worse light.
He now resolved to take the first opportunity of ac-
costing the colonel, and of coming to a perfect expla-
nation upon the whole matter. He debated, likewise,
with himself, whether he should not throw himself at
Amelia's feet, and confess a crime to her, which he
found so little hopes of concealing, and which he foresaw
would occasion him so many difficulties and terrors to
endeavour to conceal. Happy had it been for him, had
he wisely pursued this step ; since, in all probability, he
would have received immediate forgiveness from the
best of women: but he had not sufficient resolution; or,
to speak perhaps more truly, he had too much pride to
confess his guilt ; and preferred the danger of the high-
est inconveniences to the certainty of being put to the
blush.
Chapter "VI. — In which may appear, that violence is sometimes
done to the name of love.
When that happy day came, in which unhallowed
hands are forbidden to contaminate the shoulders of the
unfortunate, Booth went early to the colonel's house,
and being admitted to his presence, began with great
freedom, though with great gentleness, lo complain of
his not having dealt with him with more openness.
" Why, my dear colonel," said he, " would you not ac-
quaint me with that secret which this letter has dis-
closed ?" James read the letter, at which his counte-
nance changed more than once ; and then, after a short
silence, said, " Mr. Booth, I have been to blame, 1 own
it ; and you upbraid me with justice. The true reason
was, that I was ashamed of my own folly. D — n me,
Booth, if I have not been a most consummate fool, a
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 159.
very dupe to this woman ; and she has a particular
pleasure in making me so. I know what the imperti-
nence of virtue is, and I can submit to it ; but to be
treated thus by a w — ! You must forgive me, dear
Booth, but your success was a kind of triumph over me,
which I could not bear. I own I have not the least
reason to conceive any anger against you ; and yet,
curse me, if I should not have been less displeased at
your lying with my own wife : nay, I could almost
have parted with half my fortune to you more willingly,
than have suffered you to receive that trifle of my
money which you received at her hands. However, I
ask your pardon, and I promise you, I will never more
think of you with the least ill-will on the account of
this woman ; but as for her, d — n me, if I do not enjoy
her by some means or other, whatever it costs me ; for
1 am already above two hundred pounds out of pocket,
without having scarce had a smile in return."
Booth expressed much astonishment at this declara-
tion : he said, he could not conceive how it was pos-
sible to have such an affection for a woman, who did
not show the least inclination to return it. James gave
her a hearty curse, and said, " Pox of her inclination ;
I want only the possession of her person ; and that you
will allow is a very fine one. But, besides my passion
for her, she has now piqued my pride : for how can a
man of my fortune brook being refused by a w — 1"
" Since you are so set on the business," cries Booth,
" you will excuse my saying so, I fancy you had better
change your method of applying to her ; for, as she is,
perhaps, the vainest woman upon earth, your bounty
may probably do you little service ; nay, may rather
actually disoblige her. Vanity is plainly her predomi-
nant passion, and, if you will administer to that, it will
infallibly throw her into your arms. To this I attribute
my own unfortunate success. While she relieved my
wants and distresses, she was daily feeding her own
vanity ; whereas, as every gift of yours asserted your
superiority, it rather offended than pleased her. In-
deed, women generally love to be of the obliging side ;
and if v/e examine their favourites, we shall find them
to be much oftener such as they have conferred obli-
gations on, than such as they have received them from.'*
There was something in this speech which pleased
the colonel ; and he said, with a smile, " I don't know
160 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
how it is, Will, but you know women better than I."
" Perhaps, colonel," answered Booth, " I have studied
their minds more." " 1 don't, however, much envy you
your knowledge," replied the other ; " for I never think
their minds worth considering. However, I hope I
shall profit a httle by your experience with Miss Mat-
thews. D n seize the proud, insolent harlot ! the
devil take me if I don't love her more than 1 ever loved
a woman !"
The rest of their conversation turned on Booth's af-
fairs. The colonel again resumed the part of a friend,
gave him the remainder of the money, and promised to
take the first opportunity of laying his memorial before
a great man.
Booth was greatly overjoyed at his success. Nothing
now lay on his mind, but to conceal his frailty from
Amelia, to whom he was afraid Miss Matthews, in the
rage of her resentment, would communicate it. This
apprehension made him stay almost constantly at home ;
and he trembled at every knock at the door. His fear,
moreover, betrayed him into a meanness which he would
have heartily despised on any other occasion : this was
to order the maid to deliver him any letter directed to
Amelia ; at the same time, strictly charging her not to
acquaint her mistress with her having received any such
orders.
A servant of any acuteness would have formed strange
conjectures from such an injunction ; but this poor girl
was of perfect simplicity : so great indeed was her smi-
plicity, that had not Amelia been void of all suspicion of
her husband, the maid would have soon after betrayed
her master.
One afternoon, while they were drinking tea, little
Betty, so was the maid called, came into the room ;
and, calling her master forth, delivered him a card which
was directed to Ameha. Booth, having read the card,
on his return into the room, chid the girl for calhng
him, saying, " If you can read, child, you must see it
was directed to your mistress." To this the girl an-
swered, pertly enough, " I am sure, sir, you ordered me
to bring every letter first to you." This hint, with
many women, would have been sufficient to have blown
up the whole affair ; but Amelia, who heard what the
girl said through the medium of love and confidence,
saw the matter in a much better light than it deserved ;
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 161
and, looking tenderly on her husband, said, " Indeed, my
love, I must blame you for a conduct, which, perhaps,
I ought rather to praise, as it proceeds only from the
extreme tenderness of your affection. But why will
you endeavour to keep any secrets from me ] Believe
me, for my own sake, you ought not ; for, as you can-
not hide the consequences, you make me always sus-
pect ten times worse than the reality. While I have
you and my children well before my eyes, I am capable
of facing any news which can arrive ; for what ill news
can come, unless indeed it concerns my little babe in
the country, which does not relate to the badness of our
circumstances ] and those, I thank Heaven, we have
now a fair prospect of retrieving. Besides, dear Billy,
though my understanding be much inferior to yours, I
have sometimes had the happiness of luckily hitting on
some argument which has afforded you comfort. This
you know, my dear, was the case with regard to Colonel
James, whom I persuaded you to think you had mis-
taken, and you see the event proved me in the right."
So happily, both for herself and Mr. Booth, did the ex-
cellence of this good woman's disposition deceive her,
and force her to see everything in the most advantageous
light to her husband.
The card being now inspected, was found to contain
the compliments of Mrs. James to Mrs. Booth, with an
account of her being arrived in town, and having brought
with her a very great cold. Ameha was overjoyed at
the news of her arrival ; and having dressed herself in
the utmost hurry, left her children to the care of her
husband, and ran away to pay her respects to her friend,
whom she loved with a most sincere affection. But
how was she disappointed, when, eager with the utmost
impatience, and exulting with the thoughts of presently
seeing her beloved friend, she was answered at the door
that the lady was not at home ! nor could she, upon
telling her name, obtain any admission. This, consid-
ering the account she had received of the lady's cold,
greatly surprised her ; and she returned home very much
vexed at her disappointment.
Amelia, who had no suspicion that Mrs. James was
really at home, and, as the phrase is, was denied, would
have made a second visit the next morning, had she not
been prevented by a cold, which she herself now got,
and which was attended with a slight fever. This con-
14*
162 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
fined her several days to her house, during which Booth
officiated as her nurse, and never stirred from her.
In all this time she heard not a word from Mrs. .lames,
which gave her some uneasiness, but more astonishment.
The tenth day, when she was perfectly recovered, about
nine in the evening, when she and her husband were
just going to supper, she heard a most violent thunder-
ing at the door, and presently after a rustling of silk
upon the staircase : at the same time a female voice
cried out pretty loud, " Bless me ! what, am I to climb
up another pair of stairs ?" upon which A.melia, who
well knew the voice, presently ran to the door, and
ushered in Mrs. James, most splendidly dressed, who put
on as formal a countenance, and made as formal a cour-
tesy to her old friend, as if she had been her very dis-
tant acquaintance.
Poor Amelia, who was going to rush into her friend's
arms, was struck motionless by this behaviour ; but re-
collecting her spirits, as she had an excellent presence
of mind, she presently understood what the lady meant,
and resolved to treat her in her own way. Down, there-
fore, the company sat, and silence prevailed for some
time, during which Mrs. James surveyed the room with
more attention than she would have bestowed on one
much finer. At length the conversation began, in which
the weather and the diversions of the town were well
canvassed. Amelia, who was a woman of great humour,
performed her part to admiration ; so that a bystander
would have doubted, in every other article than dress,
which of the two was the most accomplished fine lady.
After a visit of twenty minutes, during which not a
word of any former occurrences was mentioned, nor in-
deed any subject of discourse started, except only those
two above mentioned, Mrs. James rose from her chair
and retired in the same formal manner in which she had
approached. We will pursue her, for the sake of the
contrast, during the rest of the evening. She went from
Amelia directly to a rout, where she spent two hours in
a crowd of company, talked again and again over the
diversions and news of the town, played two rubbers at
whist, and then retired to her own apartment, where,
having passed another hour in undressing herself, she
went to her own bed.
Booth and his wife, the moment their companion was
gone, sat down to supper on a piece of cold meat, the
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 163
remains of their dinner ; after which, over a pint of wine,
they entertained themselves for a while with the ridic-
ulous behaviour of their visitant. But Amelia, declar-
ing she rather saw her as the object of pity than anger,
turned the discourse to pleasanter topics. The little
actions of their children, the former scenes and future
prospects of their life, furnished them with many pleas-
ant ideas ; and the contemplation of Amelia's recovery
threw Booth into raptures. At length they retired,
happy in each other.
It is possible some readers may be no less surprised
at the behaviour of Mrs. James than was Amelia her-
self, since they may have, perhaps, received so favour-
able an impression of that lady from the account given
of her by Mr. Booth, that her present demeanour may
seem unnatural and inconsistent with her former char-
acter. But they will be pleased to consider the great
alteration in her circumstances, from a state of depend-
ance on a brother, who was himself no better than a
soldier of fortune, to that of being wife to a man of a
very large estate, and considerable rank in life. And
what was her present behaviour more than that of a fine
lady, who considered form and show as essential in-
gredients of human happiness; and imagined all friend-
ship to consist in ceremony, courtesies, messages, and
visits 1 In which opinion, she has the honour to think
with much the larger part of one sex, and no small
number of the other.
Chapter VII. — Containing a very extraordinary and pleasing in-
cident.
The next evening, Booth and Amelia went to walk
in the Park with their children. They were now on the
verge of the parade, and Booth was describing to hi^
wife the several buildings round it ; when, on a sudden,
Amelia, missing her little boy, cried out. "Where's
little Billy V upon which Booth, casting his eyes over
the grass, saw a foot-soldier shaking the boy, at a little
distance. At this sight, without making any answer to
his wife, he leaped over the rails, and, running directly
up to the fellow, who had a firelock, with a bayonet
fixed, ill his hand, he seized him by the collar, and
164 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
tripped up his heels, and, at the same time, wrested his
arms from him. A sergeant upon duty, seeing the affray
at some distance, ran presently up, and being told what
had happened, gave the sentinel a hearty curse, and told
him he deserved to be hanged. A bystander gave this
information ; for Booth was returned with his little boy
to meet Amelia, who staggered towards him as fast as
she could, all pale and breathless, and scarce able to
support her tottering limbs. The sergeant now came up
to Uooth, to make an apology for the behaviour of the
soldier, when, of a sudden, he turned almost as pale as
Amelia herself. He stood silent, while Booth was em-
ployed in comforting and recovering his wife ; and then,
addressing himself to him, said, " Bless me, lieutenant !
could I imagine it had been your honour ] and was it
my little master that the rascal used so ? I am glad I
did not know it, for I should certainly have run my hal-
berd into him."
Booth presently recognised his old faithful servant
Atkinson, and gave him a hearty greeting, saying, he
was very glad to see him in his present situation.
" Whatever 1 am," answered the sergeant, " I shall
always think I owe it to your honour." Then, taking
the little boy by the hand, he cried, " What a vast, line
young gentleman master is grown !" and, cursing the
soldier's inhumanity, swore heartily he would make him
pay for it.
As Amelia was much disordered with her fright, she
did not recollect her foster-brother till he was intro-
duced to her by Booth ; but she no sooner knew him,
than she bestowed a most obliging smile on him ; and,
calling him by the name of honest Joe, said she was
heartily glad to see him in England. " See, my dear,"
cries Booth, " what preferment your old friend is come
to. You would scarce know him, I believe, in his pres-
ent state of finery." " I am very well pleased to see
it," answered A^melia; "and I wish him joy of being
made an officer, with all my heart." In fact, from what
Mr. Booth said, joined to the sergeant's laced coat, she
believed that he had obtained a commission. So weak
and absurd is human vanity, that this mistake of Amelia's
possibly put poor Atkinson out of countenance ; for he
looked at this instant more silly than he had ever done in
his life ; and, making her a most respectful bow, muttered
i
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 165
something about obligations, in a scarce articulate or
intelligible manner.
The sergeant had, indeed, among many other qualities,
that modesty which a Latin author honours by the name
of ingenuous. Nature had given him this, notwithstand-
ing the meanness of his birth ; and six years' conversa-
tion in the army had not taken it away. To say the
truth, he was a noble fellow ; and Amelia, by supposing
he had a commission in the guards, had been guilty of
no affront to that honourable body.
Booth had a real affection for Atkinson, though, in
fact, he knew not half his merit. He acquainted him
with his lodgings, where he earnestly desired to see
him.
Amelia, who was far from being recovered from the
terrors into which the seeing her husband engaged with
the soldier had thrown her, desired to go home ; nor
was she well able to walk without some assistance.
While she supported herself, therefore, on her husband's
arm, she told Atkinson she should be obhged to him if
he would take care of the children : he readily accepted
the office ; but, upon offering his hand to miss, she re-
fused, and burst into tears: upon which, the tender mo-
ther resigned Booth to her children, and put herself under
the sergeant's protection, who conducted her safe home,
though she often declared she feared she should drop
down by the way ; the fear of which so affected the
sergeant, (for, besides the honour which he himself had
for the lady, he knew how tenderly his friend loved her,)
that he was unable to speak ; and, had not his nerves
been so strongly braced that nothing could shake them,
he had enough in his mind to have set him a trembling
equally with the lady.
When they arrived at the lodgings, the mistress of the
house opened the door, who, seeing Amelia's condition,
threw open the parlour, and begged her to walk in ;
upon which she immediately flung herself into a chair,
and all present thought she would have fainted away :
however, she escaped that misery, and, having drunk a
glass of w^ater with a little white wine mixed in it, she
began, in a little time, to regain her complexion ; and,
at length, assured Booth that she was perfectly re-
covered, but declared that she had never undergone so
much, and earnestly begged him never to be so rash in
future. She then called her little boy, and gently chid
166 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
him, saying, " You must never do so more, Billy : you
see what mischief you might have brought upon your
father ; and what you have made me suffer." " La,
mamma !" said the child, " what harm did I do ? I did
not know that people might not walk in the green fields
in London. I am sure, if I did a fauU, the man punished
me enough for it ; for he pinched me almost through
my slender arm." He then bared his little arm, which
was greatly discoloured by the injury it had received.
Booth uttered a most dreadful execration at this sight;
and the sergeant, who was now present, did the like.
Atkinson now returned to his guard, and went directly
to the officer to acquaint him with the soldier's inhu-
manity ; but he, who was about fifteen years of age,
gave the sergeant a great curse, and said the soldier had
done very well ; for that idle boys ought to be corrected.
This, however, did not satisfy poor Atkinson, who, the
next day, as soon as the guard was relieved, beat the
fellow most unmercifully, and told him he would re-
member him as long as he stayed in the regiment.
Thus ended this trifling adventure, which some readers
will, perhaps, be pleased with seeing related at full
length. None, I think, can fail drawing one observation
from it; namely, how capable the most insignificant
accident is of disturbing human happiness, and of pro-
duciniT the most unexpected and dreadful events ;— a re-
flection which may serve to many moral and religious
uses.
This accident produced the first acquaintance between
the mistress of tlie house and her lodgers ; for hitherto
they had scarce exchanged a word together. But the
great concern which the good woman had shown on
Amelia's account at this time, was not likely to pass
unobserved or unthanked either by the husband or wife.
Amelia, therefore, as soon as she was able to go up
stairs, invited Mrs. Ellison (for that was her name) to
her apartment, and desired the favour of her to stay to
supper. She readily complied, and they passed a very
agreeable evening together; in which the two women
seemed to have conceived a most extraordinary liking
to each other.
Though beauty in general does not greatly recom-
mend one woman to another, as it is too apt to create
envy ; yet, in cases where this passion does not inter-
fere, a fine woman is often a pleasing object even to
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 167
some of her own sex ; especially when her beauty is
attended with a certain air of affability, as was that of
Amelia in the highest degree. She was, indeed, a most
charming woman ; and 1 know not whether the little
scar on her nose did not rather add to, than diminish
her beauty.
Mrs. Ellison, therefore, was as much charmed with
the loveliness of her fair lodger as with all her other
engaging qualities. She was, indeed, so taken with
Amelia's beauty, that she could not refrain from crying
out, in a kind of transport of admiration, "Upon my
word, Captain Booth, you are the happiest man in the
world ! Your lady is so extremely handsome, that one
cannot look at her without pleasure."
This good woman herself had none of these attract-
ive charms to the eye. Her person was short, and im-
moderately fat ; her features were none of the most
regular : and her complexion (if, indeed, she ever had
a good one) had considerably suffered by time.
Her good-humour and complaisance, however, were
highly pleasing to Amelia. Nay, why should we con-
ceal the secret satisfaction which that lady felt from
the compliments paid to her person"? since such of my
readers as like her best, will not be sorry to find that she
was a woman.
Chapter VIII. — Containing various matters.
A FORTNIGHT had now passed since Booth had seen or
heard from the colonel; which did not a little surprise
him, as they had parted so good friends, and as he had
so cordially undertaken his cause concerning the me-
morial, on which all his hopes depended.
The uneasiness which this gave him farther increased,
on finding that his friend refused to see him ; for he
had paid the colonel a visit at nine in the morning,
and was told he was not stirring; and at hi^ return back
an hour afterward, the servant said his master was
gone out ; of which Booth was certain of the falsehood;
for he had, during that whole hour, walked backward
and forward within sight of the colonel's door, and
must have seen him if he had gone out within that
time.
168 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
The good colonel, however, did not long suffer his
friend to continue in the deplorable state of anxiety ;
for the very next morning Booth received his memorial
enclosed in a letter, acquainting him that Mr. James
had mentioned his affair to the person he proposed ; but
that the great man had so many engagements on his
hands, that it was impossible for him to make any
farther promises at this time.
The cold and distant style of this letter, and, indeed,
the whole behaviour of James, so different from what
it had been formerly, had something so mysterious in it,
that it greatly puzzled and perplexed poor Booth ; and
it was so long before he was able to solve it, that the
reader's curiosity will, perhaps, be obliged to us for not
leaving him so long in the dark as to this matter. The
true reason, then, of the colonel's conduct was this :
His unbounded generosity, together with the unbounded
extravagance, and consequently the great necessity, of
Miss Matthews, had, at length, overcome the cruelty
of that lady, with whom he likewise had luckily no
rival. Above all, the desire of being revenged on Booth,
with whom she was, to the highi^st degree, enraged,
had, perhaps, contributed not a little to his success; for
she had no sooner condescended to a familiarity with
her new lover, and discovered that Captain James, of
whom she had heard so much from Booth, was no other
than the identical colonel, than she employed every art
of which she was mistress, to make an utter breach of
friendship between these two. For this purpose, she
did not scruple to insinuate, that the colonel was not at
all obliged to the character given of him by his friend ;
and to the account of this latter she placed most of the
cruelty which she had shown to the former.
Had the colonel made a proper use of his reason, and
fairly examined the probability of the fact, he could
scarce have been imposed upon to believe a matter so
inconsistent with all he knew of Booth, and in which
that gentleman must have sinned against all the laws of
honour without any visible temptation. But, in solemn
fact, the colonel was so intoxicated with his love, that
it was in the power of his mistress to have persuaded
him of anything : besides, he had an interest in giving
her credit ; for he was not a little pleased with finding a
reason for hating the man, whom he could not help ha-
ting without any reason, at least, without any which he
i
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 169
durst fairly assign even to himself. Henceforth, there-
fore, he abandoned all friendship for Booth ; and was
more inclined to put him out of the world, than to en-
deavour any longer at supporting him in it.
Booth communicated this letter to his wife, who en-
deavoured, as usual, to the utmost of her power, to con-
sole him under one of the greatest afflictions which, I
think, can befall a man, namely, the unkindness of a
friend : but he had luckily at the same time the greatest
blessing in his possession, the kindness of a faithful and
beloved wife ; a blessing, however, which, though it
compensates most of the evils of life, rather serves to
aggravate the misfortune of distressed circumstances,
from the consideration of the share which she is to bear
in them.
This afternoon Amelia received a second visit from
Mrs. Ellison, M^ho acquainted her that she had a present
of a ticket for the oratorio, which would carry two per-
sons into the gallery ; and therefore begged the favour
of her company thither.
Amelia, with many thanks, acknowledged the civility
of Mrs. Ellison, but declined accepting her offer ; upon
which Booth very strenuously insisted on her going, and
said to her, " My dear, if you knew the satisfaction I
have in any of your pleasures, I am convinced you would
not refuse the favour Mrs. EUison is so kind to offer
you; for as you are a lover of music, you, who have
never been at an oratorio, cannot conceive how you will
be delighted." " I well know your goodness, my dear,"
answered Amelia ; " but I cannot think of leaving my
children without some person more proper to take care
of them than this poor girl." Mrs. Ellison removed ihis
objection, by offering her own servant, a very discreet
matron, to attend them ; but notwithstanding this, and all
she could say, with the assistance of Booth, and of the
children themselves, Amelia still persisted in her refu-
sal ; and the mistress of the house, who knew how far
good breeding allows persons to be pressing on these
occasions, took her leave.
She was no sooner departed, than Amelia, looking
tenderly on her husband, said, " How can you, my dear
creature, think that music has any charms for me at this
time 1 Or, indeed, do you believe that I am capable of
any sensation worthy the name of pleasure, when
15 H
170 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
neither you nor my children are present, or bear any
part of it r'
An officer of the regiment, to which Booth had for-
meily belonged, hearing from Atkinson where he lodged,
now came to pay him a visit. He told him that several
of their old acquaintance were to meet the next Wed-
nesday at a tavern, and very strongly pressed him to be
one of the company. Booth was, in truth, what was
called a hearty fellow, and loved now and then to take
a cheerful glass with his friends ; but he excused him-
self at this time. His friend declared he would take no
denial ; and he growing very importunate, Amelia at
length seconded him. Upon this Booth answered, " Well,
my dear, since you desire me, I will comply, but on one
condition ; that you go at the same time to the oratorio."
Amelia thought this request reasonable enough, and gave
her consent ; of which Mrs. Ellison presently received
the news, and with great satisfaction.
It may, perhaps, be asked, why Booth could go to the
tavern, and not to the oratorio with his wife 1 In truth,
then, the tavern was within hallowed ground, that is to
say, in the verge of the court ; for, of five officers that
were to meet there, three, besides Booth, were confined
to that air, which has been always found extremely
wholesome to a broken military constitution. And here,
if the good reader will pardon the pun, he will scarce
be off"ended at the observation ; since, how is it possible,
that, without running in debt, any person should main-
tain the dress and appearance of a gentleman, whose in-
come is not half so good as that of a porter 1 It is true,
that this allowance, small as it is, is a great expense to
the public ; but, if several more unnecessary charges
were spared, the public might, perhaps, bear a little in-
crease of this, without much feeling it. They would
not, I am sure, have equal reason to complain at con-
tributing to the maintenance of a set of brave fellows,
who, at the hazard of their health, their limbs, and their
lives, have maintained the safety and honour of their
country, as when they find themselves taxed to the sup-
port of a set of drones, who have not the least merit or
claim to their favour ; and who, without contributing in
any manner to the good of the hive, live luxuriously on
the labours of the industrious bee.
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 171
Chapter IX. — In which Amelia, with her friend, goes to the ora-
torio.
Nothing happened between the Monday and the
Wednesday worthy a place in this history. Upon the
evening of the latter, the two ladies went to the orato-
rio, and were there time enough to get a first row in the
gallery. Indeed, there was only one person in the
house when they came ; for Amelia's inclinations, when
she gave a loose to them, were pretty eager for this
diversion, she being a great lover of music, and par-
ticularly of Mr. Handel's compositions. Mrs. Ellison
was, 1 suppose, a great lover likewise of music, for
she was the more impatient of the two ; which was
rather the more extraordinary, as these entertainments
were not such novelties to her as they were to poor
Amelia.
Though our ladies arrived full two hours before they
saw the back of Mr. Handel, yet this time of expecta-
tion did not hang extremely heavy on their hands ; for,
besides their own chat, they had the company of the
gentleman whom they found at their first arrival in the
gallery, and who, though plainly, or rather roughly
dressed, very luckily for the women, happened to be
not only well bred, but a person of very lively conver-
sation. The gentleman, on his part, seemed highly
charmed with Amelia, and in fact was so ; for, though
he restrained himself entirely within the rules of good
breeding, yet he was in the highest degree officious to
catch at every opportunity of showing his respect, and
doing her little services. He procured her a book and
wax candle, and held the candle for her himself during
the whole entertainment.
At the end of the oratorio, he declared he would not
leave the ladies till he had seen them safe into their
chairs or coach ; and at the same time very earnestly
entreated that he might have the honour of waiting on
them. Upon which, Mrs. Ellison, who was a very
good-humoured woman, answered, " Ay, sure, sir, if
you please : you have been very obliging to us ; and a
dish of tea shall be at your service at any time ;" and
then told him where she lived.
The ladies were no sooner seated in their haokney-
H3
172 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
coach, than Mrs. Ellison burst into a loud laughter, and
cried, *' PIl be hanged, madam, if you have not made
a conquest to-night ; and what is very pleasant, I be-
lieve the poor gentleman takes you for a single lady."
" Nay," answered Amelia, very gravely, " I protest I
began to think at last he was rather too particular,
though he did not venture at a word that I could be of-
fended at : but if you fancied any such thing, I am sorry
you invited him to drink tea." " Why so V replied Mrs,
Ellison ; " are you angry with a man for liking you ? if
you are, you will be angry with almost every man that
sees you. If I was a man myself, I declare 1 should be
in the number of your admirers. Poor gentleman, I
pity him heartily ; he little knows that you have not a
heart to dispose of: for my own part, 1 should not be
surprised at seeing a serious proposal of marriage ; for
I am convinced he is a man of fortune, not only by the
politeness of his address, but by the fineness of his linen,
and that valuable diamond ring on his finger: but you
will see more of him when he comes to tea." " Indeed I
shall not," answered Amelia ; " though I beheve you only
rally me : I hope you have a better opinion of me, than
to think I would go willingly into the company of a man
who had an improper liking for me." Mrs. EUison, who
was one of the gayest women in the world, repeated the
words, " improper liking," with a laugh ; and cried, " My
dear Mrs. Booth, believe me, you are too handsome and
too good-humoured for a prude. How can you affect
being offended at what I am convinced is the greatest
pleasure of womankind, and chiefly, 1 believe, of us
virtuous women ? for, I assure you, notwithstanding
my gayety, I am as virtuous as any prude in Europe."
" Far be it from me, madam," said Amelia, " to suspect
the contrary of abundance of women, who indulge them-
selves in much greater freedoms than I should take, or
have any pleasure in taking ; for I solemnly protest, if
1 know my own heart, the liking of all men, but of one,
is a matter quite indifferent to me, or rather would be
highly disagreeable."
This discourse brought them home, where Amelia,
finding her children asleep, and her husband not re-
turned, invited her companion to partake of her homely
fare, and down they sat to supper together. The clock
struck twelve ; and no news being arrived of Booth,
Mrs. Ellison began to express some astonishment at his
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 173
stay, whence she launched into a general reflection on
husbands, and soon passed to some particular invectives
on her own. " Ah, my dear madam,*' says she, " 1 know
the present state of your mind, by what I have myself
often felt formerly. I am no stranger to the melancholy
tone of a midnight clock. It was my misfortune to
drag on a heavy chain above fifteen years with a sottish
yokefellow. But how can I wonder at my fate 1 since
I see even your superior charms cannot confine a hus-
band from the bewitching pleasures of a bottle." " In-
deed, madam," says Amelia, " I have no reason to com-
plain : Mr. Booth is one of the soberest of men ; but
now and then to spend a late hour with his friend, is, I
think, highly excusable." " Oh, no doubt," cries Mrs.
Ellison, " if he can excuse himself; but if I was a
man — " Here Mr, Booth came in and interrupted the
discourse. Amelia's eyes flashed with joy the moment
he appeared ; and he discovered no less pleasure in see-
ing her. His spirits were indeed a little elevated with
wine, so as to heighten his good-humour, without in
the least disordering his understanding ; and made him
such delightful company, that though it was past one in
the morning, neither his wife nor Mrs. EUison thought
of their beds during a whole hour.
Early the next morning the sergeant came to Mr.
Booth's lodging, and, with a melancholy countenance,
acquainted him, that he had been the night before at
an alehouse, where he heard one Mr. Murphy, an at-
torney, declare, that he would get a warrant backed
against one Captain Booth at the next board of green-
cloth. " I hope, sir," said he, " your honour will pardon
me ; but by what he said, I was afraid he meant your
honour ; and therefore I thought it my duty to tell you ;
for I knew the same thing happen to a gentleman here
the other day."
Booth gave Mr. Atkinson many thanks for his in-
formation. " I doubt not," said he, " but I am the per-
son meant ; for it would be foolish in me to deny that
I am liable to apprehensions of that sort." " I hope,
sir," said the sergeant, " your honour will soon have
reason to fear no man living : but in the mean time, if
any accident should happen, my bail is at your ser-
vice as far as it will go ; and I am a housekeeper, and
can swear myself worth one hundred pounds." Which
15*
174 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
hearty and friendly declaration received all those ac-
knowledgments from Booth which it really deserved.
The poor gentleman was greatly alarmed at this news ;
but he was altogether as much surprised at Murphy's
being the attorney employed against him, as all his debts,
except only to Colonel James, arose in the country,
where he did not know that Mr. Murphy had any ac-
quaintance. However, he made no doubt that he was
the person intended, and resolved to remain a close
prisoner in his own lodgings, till he saw the event of a
proposal which had been made him the evening before
at the tavern, where an honest gentleman, who had a
post under the government, and who was one of the
company, had promised to serve him with the secretary
at war, telling him, that he made no doubt of procuring
him whole pay in a regiment abroad, which, in his pres-
ent circumstances, was very highly worth his accept-
ance; when, indeed, that and a jail seemed to be the
only alternatives that offered themselves to his choice.
Mr. Booth and his lady spent that afternoon with Mrs.
Ellison ; — an incident which we should scarce have men-
tioned, had it not been that Amelia gave, on this oc-
casion, an instance of that prudence which should never
be off its guard in married women of delicacy ; for, be-
fore she would consent to drink tea with Mrs. Ellison,
she made conditions, that the gentleman who had met
them at the oratorio should not be let in. Indeed, this
circumspection proved unnecessary in the present in-
stance, for no such visiter ever came ; a circumstance
which gave great content to Amelia : for that lady had
been a little uneasy at the raillery of Mrs. Ellison, and
had, upon reflection, magnified every little compliment
made her, and every little civility shown her by the
unknown gentleman, far beyond the truth. These
imaginations now all subsided again ; and she imputed
all that Mrs. Ellison had said either to raillery or mistake.
A young lady made a fourth with them at whist, and
likewise stayed the whole evening. Her name was
Bennet. She was about the age of five-and-twenty ; but
sickness had given her an older look, and had a good
deal diminished her beauty; of which, young as she
was, she plainly appeared to have only the remains in
her present possession. She was in one particular the
very reverse of Mrs. Ellison, being altogether as remark-
ably grave as the other was gay. This gravity was not,
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 175
however, attended with any sourness of temper : on the
contrary, she had much sweetness in her countenance,
and was perfectly well bred. In short, Amelia imputed
her grave deportment to her ill health, and began to en-
tertain a compassion for her, which, in good minds, that
is to say, in minds capable of compassion, is certain to
introduce some httle degree of love or friendship.
Amelia was, in short, so pleased with the conversation
of this lady, that, though a woman of no impertinent
curiosity, she could not help taking the first opportunity
of mquiring who she was. Mrs. Ellison said that she
was an unhappy lady, who had married a young clergy-
man for love, who, dying of a consumption, had left her
a widow in very indifferent circumstances. This ac-
count made Amelia still pity her more, and consequently
added to the liking which she had already conceived for
her. Amelia, therefore, desired Mrs. Ellison to bring
her acquainted with Mrs. Bennet, and said she would
go any day with her to make that lady a visit. " There
need be no ceremony," cried Mrs. Ellison : " she is a
woman of no form ; and as I saw plainly she was ex-
tremely pleased with Mrs. Booth, I am convinced I can
bring her to drink tea with you any afternoon you
please."
The next two days Booth continued at home, highly
to the satisfaction of his Amelia, who really knew no hap-
piness out of his company, nor scarce any misery in it.
She had, indeed, at all times so much of his company
when in his power, that she had no occasion to assign
any particular reason for his staying with her, and con-
sequently it could give her no cause of suspicion. The
Saturday, one of her children was a little disordered
with a feverish complaint, which confined her to her
room, and prevented her drinking tea in the afternoon
with her husband in Mrs. Ellison's apartment, where a
noble lord, a cousin of Mrs. Ellison, happened to be pres-
ent ; for though that lady was reduced in her circum-
stances, and obliged to let out part of her house in lodg-
ings, she was born of a good family, and had some con-
siderable relations.
His lordship was not himself in any office of state;
but his fortune gave him great authority with those who
were : Mrs. Ellison, therefore, very bluntly took an op-
portunity of recommending Booth to his consideration.
She took the first hint from my lord's calling the gen-
176 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
tleman captain ; to which she answered, " Aj', I wish
your lordship would make him so. It would be but an
act of justice, and I know it is in your power to do much
greater things." She then mentioned Booth's services,
and the wounds he had received at the siege, of which
she had heard a faithful account from Amelia. Booth
blushed, and was as silent as a young virgin at the hear-
ing her own praises. His lordship answered, " Cousin
Ellison, you know you may command my interest ; nay,
I shall have a pleasure in serving one of Mr. Booth's
character : for my part, 1 think merit in all capacities
ought to be encouraged ; but I know the ministry are
greatly pestered with solicitations at this time. How-
ever, Mr. Booth may be assured I will take the first op-
portunity ; and, in the mean time, 1 shall be glad of see-
ing him any morning he pleases." For all these decla-
rations Booth was not wanting in acknowledgments to
the generous peer, any more than he was in secret grat-
itude to the lady, who had shown so friendly and un-
common a zeal in his favour.
The reader, when he knows the character of this no-
hleman, may, perhaps, conclude that his seeing Booth
alone was a lucky circumstance ; for he was so pas-
sionate an admirer of women, that he could scarce have
escaped the attraction of Amelia's beauty : and few men,
as I have observed, have such disinterested generosity,
as to serve a husband the better, because they are in
love with the wife, unless she will condescend to pay a
price beyond the reach of a virtuous woman.
BOOK V.
Chapter I. — In which the reader will meet with an old acquaint-
ance.
Booth's affairs put on a better aspect than they had
ever worn before, and he was willing to make use of the
opportunity of one day in seven to taste the fresh air.
At nine in the morning he went to pay a visit to his
old friend Colonel James, resolving, if possible, to have a
full explanation of that behaviour which appeared to
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 177
Jiim so mysterious ; but the colonel was as inaccessible
as the best-defended fortress; and it was as impossible
for Booth to pass beyond his entry, as the Spaniards
found it to take Gibraltar. He received the usual an-
swers; first, that the colonel was not stirring, and an
hour after that he was gone out. All that he got by
asking farther questions was only to receive still ruder
and ruder answers ; by which, if he had been very sa-
gacious, he might have been satisfied how little worth
his while it was to desire to go in: for the porter at a
great man's door is a kind of thermometer, by which
you may discover the warmth or coldness of his mas-
ter's friendship. Nay, in the highest stations of all, as
the great man himself has his different kinds of saluta-
tion, from a hearty embrace with a kiss, and " My dear
lord," or " Dear Sir Charles," down to, "Well, Mr. ,
what would you have me do ?" so the porter, to some
bows with respect, to others with a smile, to some he
bows more, to others less low, to others not at all ; some
he just lets in, and others he just shuts out; and in all
this they so well correspond, that one would be inclined
to think that the great man and his porter had compared
their lists together, and, like two actors concerned to act
different parts in the same scene, had rehearsed their
parts privately together before they ventured to perform
in public.
Though Booth did not, perhaps, see the whole matter
in this just light, for that in reality it is, yet, he was
discerning enough to conclude, from the behaviour of
the servant, especially when he considered that of the
master likewise, that he had entirely lost the friendship
of James; and this conviction gave him a concern, that
not only the flattering prospect of his lordship's favour
was not able to compensate, but which even obliterated,
and made him for a while forget, the situation in which
he had left his Amelia ; and he wandered about almost
two hours, scarce knowing where he went, till at last
he dropped into a coffee-house near St. James's, where
he sat himself down.
He had scarce drunk his dish of coffee, before he
heard a young officer of the guards cry to another, " Oh,
d — n me. Jack, here he comes : here's old honour and
dignity, faith." Upon which he saw a chair open, and
out issued a most erect and stately figure indeed, with
avast periwig on his head, and avast hat under his arm.
H3
178 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
This august personage, having entered the room, walked
directly up to the upper end, where, having paid his
respects to all present of any note, to each according to
seniorit)^ he at last cast his eyes on Booth, and very
civilly, though somewhat coldly, asked him how he did.
Booth, who had long recognised the features of his
old acquaintance Major Bath, returned the compliment
with a very low boW; hut did not venture to make the
first advance to famiharity, as he was truly possessed
of that quahty which the Greeks considered in the high-
est light of honour, and which we term modesty ; though,
indeed, neither ours nor the Latin language has any
word adequate to the idea of the original.
The colonel, after having discharged himself of two
or three articles of news, and made his comments upon
them, when the next chair to him became vacant, called
upon Booth to fill it. He then asked him several ques-
tions relating to his afi'airs; and, when he heard he was
out of the army, advised him earnestly to use all means
to get in again, saying, that he was a pretty lad, and
they must not lose him.
Booth told him, in a whisper, that he had a great deal
to say to him on that subject, if they were in a more
private place : upon this, the colonel proposed a walk
in the Park, which the other readily accepted.
During their walk. Booth opened his heart, and,
among other matters, acquainted Colonel Bath, that he
feared he had lost the friendship of Colonel James ;
*' though I am not," said he, " conscious of having done
the least thing to deserve it."
Bath answered, " You are certainly mistaken, Mr.
Booth. I have, indeed, scarce seen my brother since
my coming to town, for 1 have been here but two days ;
however, I am convinced he is a man of too nice honour
to do anything inconsistent with the true dignity of a
gentleman." Booth answered, he was far from accusing
him of anything dishonourable. " D — n me," said Bath,
*' if there is a man alive can or dare accuse him : if you
have the least reason to take anything ill, why don't
you go to him ? you are a gentleman, and his rank does
not protect him from giving you satisfaction." " The
affair is not of any such kind," says Booth : " I have
great obligations to the colonel, and have more reason
to lament than complain ; and, if I could but see him,
I am convinced I should have no cause for either ; but
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 179
I cannot get within his house : it was but an hour ago,
a servant of his turned me rudely from the door."
" Did a servant of my brother use you rudely V said the
colonel, with the utmost gravity : " I do not know, sir,
in what light you see such things ; but to me, the affront
of a servant is the affront of the master; and if he does
not immediately punish it, by all the dignity of a man,
I would see the master's nose between my fingers,"
Booth offered to explain, but to no purpose ; the colonel
was got into his stilts, and it was impossible to take
him down : nay, it was as much as Booth could possibly
do to part with him without an actual quarrel ; nor
would he, perhaps, have been able to have accomplished
it, had not the colonel by accident turned at last to take
Booth's side of the question ; and before they separated,
he swore many oaths that James should give him prop-
er satisfaction.
Such was the end of this present interview, so little
to the content of Booth, that he was heartily concerned
he had ever mentioned a syllable of the matter to his
honourable friend.
Chapter. II. — In which Booth pays a visit to the noble lord.
When that day of the week returned in which Mr.
Booth chose to walk abroad, he went to wait on the
noble peer, according to his kind invitation.
Booth now found a very different reception with this
great man's porter, from what he had met with at his
friend the colonel's. He no sooner told his name, than
the porter with a bow told him his lordship was at home ;
the door immediately flew wide open ; and he was con-
ducted to an antechamber, where a servant told him he
would acquaint his lordship with his arrival : nor did he
wait many minutes, before the same servant returned,
and ushered him to his lordship's apartment.
He found my lord alone, and was received by him in
the most courteous manner imaginable. After the first
ceremonials were over, his lordship began in the follow-
ing words : " Mr. Booth, I do assure you, you are very
much obliged to my cousin Ellison. She has given you
such a character, that I shall have a pleasure in doing
anything in my power to serve you. But it will be
ISO THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
very difficult, I am afraid, to get you a rank at home.
In the West Indies, perhaps, or in some regiment
abroad, it may be more easy ; and when I consider your
reputation as a soldier, I make no doubt of your readi-
ness to go to any place where the service of your coun-
try shall call you." Booth answered, that he was high-
ly obliged to his lordship ; and assured him he would,
with great cheerfulness, attend his duty in any part of
the world. '' The only thing grievous in the exchange
of countries," said he," in my opinion, is to leave those
I love behind me ; and I am sure I shall never have a
second trial equal to my first. It was very hard, my
lord, to leave a young wife big with her first child, and
so affected with my absence, that I had the utmost
reason to despair of ever seeing her more. After such
a demonstration of my resolution to sacrifice every other
consideration to my duty, I hope your lordship will
honour me with some confidence, that I shall make no
objection to serve in any country." " My dear Mr.
Booth," answered the lord, " you speak like a soldier,
and I greatly honour your sentiments. Indeed, I own
the justice of your inference from the example you have
given ; for to quit a wife, as you say, in the very infancy
of marriage, is, I acknowledge, some trial of resolution."
Booth answered with a low bow ; and then, after some
immaterial conversation, his lordship promised to speak
immediately to the minister, and appointed Mr. Booth
to come to' him again on the Wednesday morning, that
he might be acquainted with his patron's success. The
poor man now blushed and looked silly ; till, after some
time, he summoned up all his courage to his assistance,
and, relying on the other's friendship, he opened the
whole aff'air of his circumstances, and confessed that he
did not dare stir from his lodgings above one day in
seven. His lordship expressed great concern at this ac-
count, and very kindly promised to take some opportu-
nity of calling on him at his cousin Ellison's, when he
hoped, he said, to bring him comfortable tidings.
Booth soon afterw^ard took his leave with the most
profuse acknowledgments for so much goodness, and
hastened home to acquaint his Amelia with what had so
greatly overjoyed him. She highly congratulated him
on his having found so generous and powerful a friend,
towards whom both their bosoms burned with the warm-
est sentiments of gratitude. She was not, however,
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 181
contented, till she had made Booth renew his promise,
in the most solemn manner, of taking- her with him ;
after which, they sat down with their little children to
a scrag of mutton and broth with the highest satisfac-
tion, and very heartily drank his lordship's health in a
pot of porter.
In the afternoon, this happy couple, if the reader will
allow me to call poor people happy, drank tea with Mrs.
Ellison, where his lordship's praises being again repeated
by both husband and wife, were very loudly echoed by
Mrs. Ellison. While they were here, the young lady
whom we have mentioned at the end of the last book to
have made a fourth at whist, and with whom Amelia
seemed so much pleased, came in : she was just returned
to town from a short visit in the country, and her pres-
ent visit was unexpected. It was, however, very agree-
able to Amelia, who liked her still better upon a second
interview, and was resolved to solicit her farther ac-
quaintance.
Mrs. Bennet still maintained some little reserve, but
was much more familiar and communicative than before :
she appeared, moreover, to be as little ceremonious as
Mrs. Ellison had reported her, and very readily accepted
Amelia's apology for not paying her the first visit, and
agreed to drink tea with her the very next afternoon.
While the above-mentioned company were sitting in
Mrs. Ellison's parlour, Sergeant Atkinson passed by the
window and knocked at the door. Mrs. Ellison no
sooner saw him than she said, " Pray, Mr. Booth, who
is that genteel young sergeant ? he was here every day
last week to inquire after you." This was indeed a fact :
the sergeant was apprehensive of the design of Murphy ;
but as the poor fellow had received all his answers from
the maid or Mrs. Ellison, Booth had never heard a word
of the matter. He was, however, greatly pleased with
what he was now told, and burst forth into great praises
of the sergeant, which were seconded by Amelia, who
added that he was her foster-brother, and she believed
one of the honestest fellows in the world.
*' And I'll swear," cries Mrs. Ellison, " he is one of
the prettiest : do, Mr. Booth, desire him to walk in. A
sergeant of the guards is a gentleman ; and I had rather
give such a man as you describe a dish of tea, than any
Beau Fribble of them all."
Booth wanted no great solicitation to show any kind
16
182 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
of regard to Atkinson; and accordingly the sergeant
was ushered in, though not without some reluctance on
his side. There is, perhaps, nothing more uneasy than
those sensations which the French call the mauvaise
honte, nor any more difficult to conquer ; and poor At-
kinson would, I am persuaded, have mounted a breach
with less concern than he showed in walking across a
room before three ladies, two of whom were his avowed
well-wishers.
Though I do not entirely agree with the late learned
Mr. Essex, the celebrated dancing-master's opinion, that
dancing is the rudiment of polite education, as he would,
I apprehend, exclude every other art and science ; yet
it is certain that persons whose feet have never been
under the hands of the professors of that art, are apt to
discover this want in their education in every motion,
nay, even when they stand or sit still. They seem, in-
deed, to be overburdened with limbs which they know
not how to use ; as if, when Nature has finished her
work, the dancing-master still is necessary to put it in
motion.
Atkinson was at present an example of this observa-
tion, which does so much honour to a profession for
which I have a very high regard. He was handsome,
and exquisitely well made ; and yet, as he had never
learned to dance, he made so awkward an appearance in
Mrs. Ellison's parlour, that the good lady herself, who
had invited him in, could at first scarce refrain from
laughter at his behaviour. He had not, however, been
long in the room before admiration of his person got
the better of such risible ideas : so great is the advan-
tage of beauty in men as well as women ; and so sure
is this quality in either sex of procuring some regard
from the beholder.
The exceeding courteous behaviour of Mrs. Ellison,
joined to that of Amelia and Booth, at length dissipated
the uneasiness of Atkinson ; and he gained sufficient
confidence to tell the company some entertaining stories
of accidents that had happened in the army within his
knowledge, which, though they greatly pleased all pres-
ent, are not however of consequence enough to have a
place in this history.
Mrs. Ellison was so very importunate with her com-
pany to stay supper, that they all consented. As for the
sergeant, he seemed to be none of the least welcome
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 183
guests* She was, indeed, so pleased with what she had
heard of him, and what she saw of him, that when a little
warmed with wine, (for she was no flincher at the bottle,)
she began to indulge some freedoms in her discourse to-
wards him that a little oflfended Amelia's delicacy ; nay,
they did not seem to be highly relished by the other
lady ; though I am far from insinuating that these ex-
ceeded the bounds of decorum, or were, indeed, greater
liberties than ladies of the middle age, and especially
widows, do frequently allow to them&elves.
Chapter III. — Relating principally to the affairs of Sergeant At-
kinson.
The next day, when all the same company, Atkinson
only excepted, assembled in Amelia's apartment, Mrs.
Ellison presently began to discourse of him ; and that in
terms not only of approbation, but even of affection.
She called him her clever sergeant, and her dear ser-
geant ; repeated often that he was the prettiest fellow
in the army, and said it was a thousand pities he had
not a commission ; for that, if he had, she was sure he
would become a general.
I " I am of your opinion, madam," answered Booth ;
*' and as he has got one hundred pounds of his own al-
ready, if he could fii^ a wife now to help him to two or
three hundred more, I think he might easily get a com-
mission in a marching regiment ; for I am convinced
there is no colonel in the army would refuse him."
" Refuse him, indeed !" said Mrs. Ellison; " no ; he
would be a very pretty colonel that did. And upon my
honour, I believe there are very few ladies who would
refuse him, if he had but a proper opportunity of solicit-
ing them. The colonel and the lady both would be bet-
ter off than with one of those pretty masters that I see
walking about, and dragging their long swords after
them, when they should rather drag their leading-
strings."
*' Well said," cries Booth, "and spoken like a woman
of spirit. Indeed, I believe they would be both better
served."
*' True, captain," answered Mrs. Ellison : *' I would
184 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
rather leave the first two syllables out of the word gen-
tleman, than the last."
" Nay, I assure you," replied Booth, *' there is not a
quieter creature in the world. Though the fellow has
the bravery of a lion, he has the meekness of a lamb.
I can tell you stories enough of that kind, and so can
my dear Amelia, when he was a boy."
*' Oh, if the match sticks therei^" cries Amelia, " I
positively will not spoil his fortune by my silence. I
can answer for him, from his infancy, that he was one
of the best-natured lads in the world. I will tell you a
story or two of him, the truth of which I can testify
from my own knowledge. When he was but six years
old, he was at play with me at my mother's house, and
a great pointer dog bit him through the leg. The poor
lad, in the midst of the anguish of his wound, declared
he was overjoyed it had not happened to miss ; for the
same dog had just before snapped at me, and my petti-
coats had been my defence. Another instance of his
goodness, which greatly recommended him to my father,
and which I have loved him for ever since, was this :
My father was a great lover of birds, and strictly forbade
the spoiling of their nests. Poor Joe was one day
caught upon a tree, and being concluded guilty, was se-
verely lashed for it; but it was afterward discovered
that another boy, a friend of Joe's, had robbed the nest
of its young ones, and poor Joe had climbed the tree in
order to restore them ; notwithstanding which, he sub-
mitted to the punishment rather than he would impeach
his companion. But if these stories appear childish and
trifling, the duty and kindness he has shown to his mother
must recommend him to every one. Ever since he has
been fifteen years old, he has more than half supported
her ; and, when my brother died, I remember particu-
larly, Joe, at his desire, (for he was much his favourite,)
had one of his suits given him ; but, instead of his be-
coming finer on that occasion, another young fellow
came to church in my brother's clothes, and my old
nurse appeared the same Sunday in a new gown, which
her son had purchased for her with the sale of his
legacy."
" Well, I protest, he is a very worthy creature," said
Mrs. Bennet.
" He is a charming fellow," cries Mrs. Ellison ; " but
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 185
then the name of sergeant, Captain Booth ; there, as the
play says, my pride brings me off again :
* And whatsoever the sages charge on pride,
The angels fall, and twenty other good faults beside ;
On earth Tm sure — I'm sure — something— calling,
Pride saves man, and our sex too, from falling.' "
Here a footman's rap at the door shook the room ; upon
which Mrs. Ellison, running to the window, cried out,
*' Let me die if it is not my lord. What shall I do ? I
must be at home to hirn; but suppose he should inquire
for you, captain, what shall 1 say ? or will you go down
with me?"
The company were in some confusion at this instant;
and, before they had agreed on anything. Booth's little
girl came running into the room, and said, there was a
prodigious great gentleman coming up stairs. She was
immediately followed by his lordship, who, as he knew
Booth must be at home, made very little or no inquiry
at the door.
Amelia was taken somewhat at a surprise, but she
was too polite to show much confusion ; for though she
knew nothing of the town, she had had a genteel educa-
tion, and kept the best company the country afforded.
The ceremonies therefore passed as usual, and they all
sat down.
His lordship soon addressed himself to Booth, saying,
*' As I have what I think good news for you, sir, I could
not delay giving myself the pleasure of communicating it
to you. I have mentioned your affair where I promised
you, and I have no doubt of my success. One may
easily perceive, you know, from the manner of people's
behaving upon such occasions ; and, indeed, when I re-
lated your case, I found there was much inclination to
serve you. Great men, Mr. Booth, must do things in
their own time ; but I think you may depend on having
something done very soon.''
Booth made many acknowledgments for his lordship's
goodness, and now a second time paid all the thanks
which would have been due, even had the favour been
obtained. This art of promising is the economy of a
great man's pride, a sort of good husbandry in confer-
ring favours, by which they receive tenfold in acknowl-
edgments for every obligation, I mean among those who
really intend the service ; for there are others, who
16*
186 THE HISTORY OP AMELIA.
cheat poor men of their thanks, without ever designing
to deserve them at all.
This matter being sufficiently discussed, the conversa-
tion took a gayer turn ; and my lord began to entertain
the ladies with some of that elegant discourse which,
though most delightful to hear, it is impossible should
ever be read.
His lordship was so highly pleased with Amelia, that
he could not help being somewhat particular to her;
but this particularity distinguished itself only in a higher
degree of respect, and was so very pohte, and so very
distant, that she herself was pleased ; and at his de-
parture, which was not till he had far exceeded the
length of a common visit, declared he was the finest
gentleman she had ever seen ; with which sentiment her
husband and Mrs. Ellison both entirely concurred.
Mrs. Bennet, on the contrary, expressed some little
dislike to my lord's complaisance, which she called ex-
cessive. " For my own part," said she, " I have not the
least relish for those very fine gentlemen : what the
world generally calls politeness, I term insincerity ; and
I am more charmed with the stories which Mrs. Booth
told us of the honest sergeant, than with all that the
finest gentlemen in the world ever said in their lives."
" Oh, to be sure," cries Mrs. Ellison, " All for Love,
or the World well Lost, is a motto very proper for some
folks to wear in their coat of arms ; but the generality
of the world will, I believe, agree with that lady's opinion
of my cousin, rather than with Mrs. Bennet."
Mrs. Bennet, seeing Mrs. Ellison took offence at what
she said, thought proper to make some apology, which
was very readily accepted, and so ended the visit.
We cannot, however, put an end to the chapter with-
out observing, that such is the ambitious temper of
beauty, that it may always apply to itself that celebrated
passage in Lucan,
" Nee quemquam jam ferre potest Caesarve priorem,
Pompeiusve parem."
Indeed, I believe it may be laid down as a general rule,
that no woman, who has any great pretensions to admi-
ration, is ever well pleased in company, where she per-
ceives herself to fill only the second place. This obser-
vation, however, I humbly submit to the judgment of the
ladies, and hope it will be considered as retracted by me,
if they shall dissent from my opinion.
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 187
Chapter IV. — Containing matters that require no preface.
When Booth and his wife were left alone together,
they both extremely exulted in their good fortune, in hav-
ing found so good a friend as his lordship ; nor were they
wanting in very warm expressions of their gratitude to-
wards Mrs. Ellison ; after which, they began to lay down
schemes of living when Booth should have his commis-
sion of captain ; and, after the exactest computation,
concluded, that, with economy, they should be able to
save at least fifty pounds a year out of their income, in
order to pay their debts.
These matters being well settled, Amelia asked Booth
what he thought of Mrs. Bennet. " I think, my dear,"
answered Booth, " that she has been formerly a very
pretty woman." " I am mistaken," replied she, " if she
be not a very good creature. I don't know I ever took
such a liking to any one on so short an acquaintance. I
fancy she has been a very sprightly woman ; for, if you
observe, she discovers, by starts, a great vivacity in her
countenance." " I made the same observation," cries
Booth : " sure some strange misfortune has befallen her."
"A misfortune indeed !" answered Amelia ; " sure, child,
you forget what Mrs. Ellison told us, that she had lost
a beloved husband; a misfortune which I have often
wondered at any woman's surviving." At which words
she cast a tender look at Booth, and presently after-
ward throwing herself upon his neck, cried, " Oh Hea-
vens ! what a happy creature am I ! when I consider
the dangers you have gone through, how I exult in my
bhss !" The good-natured reader will suppose that Booth
was not deficient in returning such tenderness ; after
which, the conversation became too fond to be here re-
lated.
The next morning, Mrs. Ellison addressed herself to
Booth as follows : " I shall make no apology, sir, for
what I am going to say, as it proceeds from my friend-
ship for yourself and your dear lady. I am convinced
then, sir, there is something more than accident in your
going abroad only one day in the week. Now, sir, if,
as I am afraid, matters are not altogether as well as I
wish them, I beg, since I do not believe you are pro-
vided with a lawyer, that you will suffer me to recom-
188 THE HISTORY OP AMELIA.
mend one to you. The person I shall mention, is, I
assure you, of much ability in his profession, and 1 have
known him do great services to gentlemen under a
cloud. Do not be ashamed of your circumstances, my
dear friend ; they are a much greater scandal to those
who have left so much merit unprovided for."
Booth gave Mrs. Ellison abundance of thanks for her
kindness, and explicitly confessed to her that her con-
jectures were right, and without hesitation accepted the
offer of her friend's assistance.
Mrs. Ellison then acquainted him with her appre-
hensions on his account. She said she had both yes-
terday and this morning seen two or three very ugly,
suspicious fellows pass several times by her window.
'* Upon all accounts," said she, " my dear sir, I advise
you to keep yourself close confined till the lawyer has
been with you. I am sure he will get you your liberty,
at least of walking about within the verge. There's
something to be done with the board of green cloth, I
don't know what ; but this I know, that several gentle-
men have lived here a long time very comfortably, and
have defied all the vengeance of their creditors. How-
ever, in the mean time, you must be a close prisoner
with your lady ; and I believe there is no man in Eng-
land but would exchange his liberty for the same jail."
She then departed in order to send for the attorney,
and presently afterward the sergeant arrived with news
of the like kind. He said, he had scraped an acquaint-
ance with Murphy. " 1 hope your honour will pardon
me," cries Atkinson ; " but I pretended to have a small
demand upon your honour myself, and offered to em-
ploy him in the business ; upon which, he told me, that
if I would go with him to the marshal's court, and make
affidavit of my debt, he would be able very shortly to
get it me : ' for I shall have the captain in hold,' cries
he, ' within a day or two.' 1 wish," said the sergeant,
" I could do your honour any service. Shall I walk
about all day before the door 1 or shall I be porter, and
watch it in the inside, till your honour can find some
means of securing yourself? 1 hope you will not be
off'ended at me, but I beg you would take care of fall-
ing into Murphy's hands; for he has the character of
the greatest villain upon earth. I am afraid you will
think me too bold, sir : but I have a little money : if it
can be of any service, do, pray your honour, command
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 189
it. It can never do me so much good any other way.
Consider, sir, I owe all I have to yourself and my dear
mistress."
Booth stood a moment as if he had been thunder-
struck, and then, the tears bursting from his eyes, he
said, " Upon my soul, Atkinson, you overcome me :
I scarce ever heard of so much goodness, nor do I know
how to express my sentiments of it ; but be assured, as
for your money, 1 will not accept it ; and let it satisfy
you, that in my present circumstances it would do me
no essential service; but this be assured of likewise,
that while I live, I shall never forget the kindness of the
offer. However, as I apprehend 1 may be in some danger
of fellows getting into the house, for a day or two, as I
have no guard but a poor little girl, I will not refuse the
goodness you offer to show in my protection ; and I
make no doubt but Mrs. Ellison will let you sit in her
parlour for that purpose."
Atkinson, with the utmost readiness, undertook the
office of porter; and Mrs. Ellison as readily allotted
him a place in her back parlour, where he continued
three days together, from eight in the morning till
twelve at night ; during which time he had sometimes
the company of Mrs. Ellison, and sometimes of Booth,
Amelia, and Mrs. Bennet too ; for this last had taken
as great a fancy to Amelia as Amelia had to her ;
and therefore, as Mr. Booth's affairs were now no secret
in the neighbourhood, made her frequent visits during
the confinement of her husband, and consequently her
own.
Nothing, as I remember, happened in this interval of
time more worthy of notice than the following card,
which Amelia received from her old acquaintance Mrs.
James: "Mrs. James sends her comphments to Mrs.
Booth, and she desires to know how she does ; for, as
she has not had the favourof seeing her at her own house,
or of meeting her in any public place, in so long a time,
she fears it may be owing to ill health."
Ameha had long given over all thoughts of her friend,
and doubted not but that she was as entirely given over
by her : she was very much surprised at this message,
and under some doubt whether it was not meant as an
insult, especially from the mention of public places,
which she thought so inconsistent with her present cir-
cumstances, of which she supposed Mrs. James was well
190 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
apprized. However, at the entreaty of her husband,
who languished for nothing more than to be again rec-
onciled to his friend James, Amelia undertook to pay
the lady a visit, and to examine into the mystery of this
conduct, which appeared to her so unaccountable.
Mrs. James received her with a degree of civility that
amazed Amelia, no less than her coldness had done be-
fore. She resolved to come to an eclaircissement ; and
having sat out some company that came in, when they
were alone together, Amelia, after some silence, and
many offers to speak, at last said, '• My dear Jenny, (if
you will now suffer me to call you by so familiar a
name,) have you entirely forgotten a certain young lady
who had the pleasure of being your intimate acquaint-
ance at Montpelier?" "Whom do you mean, dear
madam ?" cries Mrs. James, with great concern. " I
mean myself," answered Amelia. " You surprise me,
madam," replied Mrs. James: "how can you ask me
that question V " Nay, my dear, I do not intend to of-
fend you," cries Amelia; "but I am really desirous to
solve to myself the reason of that coldness which you
showed me, when you did me the favour of a visit. Can
you think, my dear, I was not disapponited, when I ex-
pected to meet an intimate friend, to receive a cold, for-
mal visitant ? I desire you to examine your own heart,
and answer me honestly, if you do not think I had some
little reason to be dissatisfied with your behaviour?"
" Indeed, Mrs. Booth," answered the other lady, " you
surprise me very much : if there was anything displeas-
ing to you in my behaviour, I am extremely concerned
at it. 1 did not know I had been defective in any of
the rules of civility; but if 1 was, madam, I ask your
pardon." "Is civility then, my dear," replied Amelia,
*' a synonymous term with friendship ? Could I have
expected, when I parted the last time with Miss Jenny
Bath, to have met her the next time in the shape of a
fine lady, complaining of the hardship of climbing up
two pair of stairs to visit me, and then approaching me
with the distant air of a new and slight acquaintance 1
Do you think, my dear Mrs. James, if the tables had
been turned ; if my fortune had been as high in the
world as yours, and you in my distressed and abject
condition—that I would not have climbed as high as the
Monument to visit you"?" *' Sure, madam," cried Mrs.
James, " I mistake you, or you have greatly mistaken me.
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 191
Can you complain of my not visiting you, who have owed
me a visit almost these three weeks ? Nay, did I not
even then send you a card, which sure was doing more
than all the friendship and good-breeding in the world re-
quired 1 but, indeed, as I had met you in no public place,
1 really thought you was ill." " How can you mention
public places to me," said Amelia, " when you can hard-
ly be a stranger to my present situation] Did you not
know, madam, that I was ruined ]" " No, indeed,
madam, did I not," replied Mrs. James : " I am sure I
should have been highly concerned if I had." "Why,
sure, my dear," cries Amelia, " you could not imagine
we were in affluent circumstances, when you found
us in such a place and in such a condition." "Nay, my
dear," answered Mrs. James ; " since you are pleased
to mention it first yourself, I own 1 was a little sur-
prised to see you in no better lodgings ; but I conclu-
ded you had your own reasons for liking them ; and, for
my own part, 1 have laid it down as a positive rule,
never to inquire into the private affairs of any one, es-
pecially of my friends. I am not of the humour of
some ladies, who confine the circle of their acquaint-
ance to one part of the town, and would not be known
to visit in the city for the world. P^or my part, I never
dropped an acquaintance with any one while it was rep-
utable to keep it up ; and 1 can solemnly declare I have
not a friend in the world for whom 1 have a greater es-
teem than I have for Mrs. Booth."
At this instant, the arrival of a new visitant put an
end to the discourse; and Ameha soon after took her
leave, without the least anger, but with some little un-
avoidable contempt for a lady, in whose opinion, as we
have hinted before, outward form and ceremony consti-
tuted the whole essence of friendship ; who valued all
her acquaintance alike, as each individual served equally
to fill up a place in her visiting roll ; and who, in reality,
had not the least concern for the good qualities or well-
being of any of them.
Chapter V.— Containing much heroic matter.
At the end of three days, Mrs. Ellison's friend had so
far purchased Mr. Booth's liberty, that he could walk
192 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
again abroad within the verge, without any danger of
having a warrant backed against him by the board before
he had notice. As for the ill-looked persons that had
given the alarm, it was now discovered that another
unhappy gentleman, and not Booth, was the object of
their pursuir.
Mr. Booth now being delivered from his fears, went,
as he had formerly done, to take his morning walk in
the Park. Here he met Colonel Bath in company with
some other officers, and very civilly paid his respects to
him ; but, instead of returning the salute, the colonel
looked him full in the face with a very stern counte-
nance ; and, if he could be said to take any notice of
him, it was in such a manner as to inform him he would
take no notice of him.
Booth was not more hurt than surprised at this be-
haviour, and resolved to know the reason of it. He
therefore watched an opportunity till the colonel was
alone, and then walked boldly up to him, and desired to
know if he had given him any offence. The colonel an-
swered hastily, " Sir, I am above being offended with
you, nor do I think it consistent with my dignity to
make you any answer." Booth replied, '*! don't know,
sir, that I have done anything to deserve this treat-
ment." "Look'ee, sir," cries the colonel, "if I had not
formerly had some respect for you, I should not think
you worth my resentment : however, as you are a gen-
tleman born, and an officer, and as I have had an esteem
for you, I will give you some marks of it by putting it in
your power to do yourself justice : I will tell you there-
fore sir, that you havB acted like a scoundrel." " If we
were not in the Park," answered Booth, warmly, " I
would thank you very properly for that compliment."
" Oh, sir," cries the colonel, " we can be soon in a con-
venient place." Upon which Booth answered, he would
attend him wherever he pleased. The colonel then bid
him come along, and strutted forward directly up Con-
stitution Hill to Hyde Park, Booth following him at first,
and afterward walking before him, till they came to
that place which may be properly called the field of
blood, being that part, a little to the left of the ring,
which heroes have chosen for the scene of their exit out
of this world.
Booth reached the ring some time before the colonel :
for he mended not his pace any more than a Spaniard.
THE. HISTORY OF AMELIA. 193
To say truth, I believe it was not in his power; for he
had so long accustomed himself to one and the same
strut, that, as a horse, used alway to trotting, can scarce
be forced into a gallop, so could no passion force the
colonel to alter his pace.
At length, however, both parties arrived at the lists,
where the colonel very deliberately took off his wig and
coat, and laid them on the grass ; and then, drawing his
sword, advanced to Booth, who had likewise his drawn
weapon in his hand, but had made no other preparation
for the combat.
The combatants now engaged with great fury, and,
after two or three passes, Booth ran the colonel through
the body, and threw him on the ground, at the same time
possessing himself of the colonel's sword.
As soon as the colonel was become master of his
speech, he called out to Booth in a very kind voice, and
said, " You have done my business, and satisfied me
that you are a man of honour, and that my brother James
must have been mistaken ; for I am convinced that no
man who will draw his sword in so gallant a manner
is capable of being a rascal. D — n me, give me a buss,
my dear boy : I ask your pardon for that infamous ap-
pellation I dishonoured your dignity with, but, d — n
me, if it was not purely out of love, and to give you an
opportunity of doing yourself justice, which I own you
have done like a man of honour. What may be the
consequence I know not ; but I hope, at least, I shall
live to reconcile you with my brother."
Booth showed great concern and even horror in his
countenance. " Why, my dear colonel," said he, " would
you force me to this 1 for Heaven's sake, tell me what I
have ever done to offend you."
" Me !" cried the colonel : " indeed, my dear child, you
never did anything to offend me. Nay, I have acted
the part of a friend to you in the whole affair. I main-
tained your cause with my brother as long as decency
would permit: I could not flatly contradict him, though,
indeed, I scarce believed him. But what could I do ? if
I had not fought with you, I must have been obliged to
have fought with him : however, I hope what is done
will be sufficient, and that matters maybe accommodated
without your being put to the necessity of fighting any
more on this occasion."
" Never regard me," cried Booth, eagerly : " for
17 I
194 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
Heaven's sake, think of your own preservation. Let me
put you into a chair, and. get you a surgeon."
" Thou art a noble lad," cries the colonel, who was
now g-ot on his legs, " and I am glad the business is so
well over; for though your sword went quite through,
it slanted so, that 1 apprehend there is little danger of
life. However, I think there is enough done to put an
honourable end to the affair, especially as you was so
hasty to disarm me. I bleed a little, but I can walk to
the house by the water : and if you will send me a chair
thither, I shall be obliged to you."
As the colonel refused any assistance, (indeed, he
was very able to walk without it, though with some-
what less dignity than usual,) Booth set forward to
Grosvenor Gate, in order to procure the chair, and soon
after returned with one to his friend; whom, having
conveyed into it, he attended himself on foot into Bond-
street, where then lived a very eminent surgeon.
The surgeon, having probed the wound, turned towards
Booth, who was apparently the guilty person, and said,
with a smile, " Upon my word, sir, you have performed
the business with great dexterity."
♦' Sir," cries the colonel to the surgeon, " I would not
have you imagine I am afraid to die. I think I know
more what belongs to the dignity of a man ; and I be-
lieve I have shown it at the head of a line of battle.
Do not impute my concern to that fear, when I ask you
whether there is or is not any danger."
" Really, colonel," answered the surgeon, who well
knew the complexion of the gentleman then under his
hands, " it would appear like presumption to say that a
man who has been just run through the body is in no
manner of danger. But this, 1 think, I may assure you,
that I yet perceive no very bad symptoms ; and, unless
something worse should appear, or a fever be the con-
sequence, I hope you may live to be again, with all your
dignity, at the head of a line of battle."
" 1 am glad to hear that is your opinion," quoth the
colonel ; " for I am not desirous of dying, though I am
not afraid of it. But if anything worse than you ap-
prehend should happen, I desire you will be a witness of
my declaration, that this young gentleman is entirely
innocent. I forced him to do what he did. My dear
Booth, I am pleased matters are as they are. You are
the first man that ever gained an advantage over rae ;
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 195
but it was very lucky for you that you disarmed me,
and I doubt not but you have the equanimity to think so.
If the business, therefore, has ended without doing any-
thing to the purpose, it was Fortune's pleasure, and nei-
ther of our faults."
Booth heartily embraced the colonel, and assured him of
the great satisfaction he had received from the surgeon's
opinion ; and soon after the two combatants took their
leave of each other. The colonel, after he was dressed,
went in a chair to his lodgings, and Booth walked on
foot to his, where he luckily arrived without meeting
any of Mr. Murphy's gang ; a danger which never once
occurred to his imagination till he was out of it.
The affair he had been about had indeed so entirely
occupied his mind, that it had obliterated every other
idea ; among the rest, it caused him so absolutely to
forget the time of the day, that though he had exceeded
the time of dining above two hours, he had not the
least suspicion of being at home later than usual.
Chapter VI. — In which the reader will find m-itter worthy his
consideration.
Amelia, having waited above an hour for her husband,
concluded, as he was the most punctual man alive, that
he had met with some engagement abroad, and sat
down to her meal with her children; which, as it was
always uncomfortable in the absence of her husband,
was very short ; so that, before his return, all the ap-
paratus of dining was entirely removed.
Booth sat some time with his wife, expecting every
minute when the little maid would make her appear-
ance ; at last, curiosity, I believe, rather than appetite,
made him ask how long it was to dinner. " To dinner,
my dear?" answered Amelia: "sure you have dined, I
hope]" Booth replied in the negative; upon which his
wife started from her chair, and bestirred herself as
nimbly to provide him a repast, as the most industrious
hostess in the kingdom does, when some unexpected
guest of extraordinary quality arrives at her house.
The reader has not, I think, from any passages
hitherto recorded in this history, had much reason to
accuse Amelia of a blameable curiosity: he will not,
I hope, conclude that she gave an instance of any such
196 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA,
fault, when, upon Booth's having so long overstayed
his time, and so greatly mistaken the hour of the day,
and upon some other circumstances of his behaviour,
(for he was too honest to be good at concealing any of
his thoughts,) she said to him, after he had done eat-
ing, "My dear, I am sure something more than ordi-
nary has happened to-day, and I beg you will tell me
what it is."
Booth answered, that nothing of any consequence
had happened ; that he had been detained by a friend,
whom he met accidentally, longer than he expected.
In short, he made many shuffling and evasive answers,
not boldly lying out, which, perhaps, would have suc-
ceeded, but poorly and vainly endeavouring to reconcile
falsehood with truth ; — an attempt which seldom fails
to betray the most practised deceiver.
How impossible was it, therefore, for poor Booth to
succeed in an art for which Nature had so entirely dis-
qualified him ! His countenance, indeed, confessed faster
than his tongue denied ; and the whole of his behaviour
gave Amelia an alarm, and made her suspect something
very bad had happened ; and as her thoughts turned
presently on the badness of their circumstances, she
feared some mischief from his creditors had befallen
him : for she was too ignorant of such matters to
know that if he had fallen into the hands of the Philis-
tines, (which is the name given by the faithful to bai-
liffs,) he would hardly have been able so soon to recover
his liberty. Booth at last perceived her to be so uneasy,
that, as he saw no hopes of contriving any fiction to
satisfy her, he thought himself obliged to tell her the
truth, or at least part of the truth, and confessed that he
had had a little skirmish with Colonel Bath, in which,
he said, the colonel had received a slight wound, not at
all dangerous; " and this," says he, " is all the whole
matter." " If it be so," cries Amelia, " I thank Heaven
no worse has happened ; but v.hy, my dear, will you
ever converse with that madman, who can embrace a
friend one moment, and fight with him the next ?"
*'Nay, my dear," answered Booth, "you yourself must
confess, though he be a little too much on the qui ?-w<?,
he is a man of great honour and good-nature." " Tell
me not," replied she, " of such good-nature and honour
as would sacrifice a friend, and a whole family, to a
ridiculous whim. Oh Heavens !" cried she, falling upon
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 197
her knees, " from what misery have I escaped, from
what have these poor babes escaped, through your gra-
cious providence this day !" Then, turning to her hus-
band, she cried, " But are you sure the monster's wound
is no more dangerous than you say 1 a monster surely
I may call him, who can quarrel with a man that could
not, that I am convinced would not, offend him !"
Upon this question, Booth repeated the assurances
which the surgeon had given them, perhaps with a little
enlargement, which pretty well satisfied Amelia ; and,
instead of blaming her husband for what he had done,
she tenderly embraced him, and again returned thanks
to Heaven for his safety.
In the evening, Booth insisted on paying a short visit
to the colonel, highly against the inclination of Amelia,
who, by many arguments and entreaties, endeavoured to
dissuade her husband from continuing an acquaintance,
in which, she said, she should always foresee much
danger for the future. However, she was at last pre-
vailed upon to acquiesce ; and Booth went to the colonel,
whose lodgings happened to be in the verge as well as
his own.
He found the colonel in his nightgown and his great
chair, engaged with another officer at a game of chess.
He rose immediately, and having heartily embraced
Booth, presented him to his friend, saying, he had the
honour to introduce to him as brave and as fortitudinous
a man as any in the king's dominions. He then took
Booth with him into the next room, and desired him
not to mention a word of what had happened in the
morning, saying, " I am very well satisfied that no more
has happened ; however, as it ended in nothing, I could
wish it might remain a secret." Booth told him he was
heartily glad to find him so well, and promised never to
mention it more to any one.
The game at chess being just begun, and neither of
the parties having gained any considerable advantage,
they neither of them insisted on continuing it ; and
ROW the colonel's antagonist took his leave, and left
the colonel and Booth together.
As soon as they were alone, the latter earnestly en-
treated the former to acquaint him with the real cause
of his anger; "for, may I perish," cries Booth, "if I
can even guess what I have ever done to offend either
you, or your brother, Colonel James."
17*
198 THE HISTORY OF A2vrELlA.
" Look'ee, child," cries the colonel, " I tell you I am
for my own part satisfied ; for I am convinced that a
man who will fight can never be a rascal ; and there-
fore why should you inquire any more of me at pres-
ent 1 When I see my brother James, I hope to recon-
cile all matters, and perhaps no more swords need be
drawn on this occasion." But Booth still persisting in
his desire, the colonel, after some hesitation, with a
tremendous oath, cried out, "I do not think myself at
liberty to refuse you after the indignity I off'ered you;
so, since you demand it of me, I will inform you. My
brother told me you had used him dishonourably, and
had divellicated his character behind his back. He
gave me his word too, that he was well assured of what
he said. What could I have done ] though I own to
you I did not believe him, and your behaviour since has
convinced me I was in the right. I must either have
given him the lie, and fought with him, or else I was
obliged to behave as I did, and fight with you. And
now, my lad, I leave it to you to do as you please ; but
if you are laid under any necessity to do yourself far-
ther justice, it is your own fault."
" Alas ! colonel," answered Booth, "besides the obli-
gations I have to the colonel, I have really so much
love for him, that I think of nothing less than resent-
ment. All I wish is to have this affair brought to an
€claircisseme)2t, and to satisfy him that he is in an error:
for though his assertions are cruelly injurious, and I
have never deserved them, yet I am convinced he would
not say what he did not himself think. Some rascal,
envious of his friendship for me, has belied me to him ;
and the only resentment 1 desire is to convince him of
his mistake."
At these w^ords the colonel grinned horribly a ghastly
smile, or rather sneer, and answered, " Young gentle-
man, you may do as you please ; but, by the eternal dig-
nity of man, if any man breathing had taken a liberty
with my character — here, here, Mr. Booth, (showing
his fingers,) here, d — n me, should be his nostrils : he
should breathe through my hands, and breathe his last,
d — n me."
Booth answered, " I think, colonel, I may appeal to
your testimony that I dare do myself justice ; since he
who dare draw his sword against you, can hardly be
supposed to fear any other person : but I repeat to you
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 199
again that I love Colonel James so well, and am so
greatly oblig-ed to him, that it would be almost indiffer-
ent to me whether I directed my sword against his
breast or my own."
The colonel's muscles were considerably softened by
Booth's last speech ; but he again contracted them into
a vast degree of fierceness before he cried out, " Boy,
thou hast reason enough to be vain ; for thou art the
first person that ever could proudly say he gained an
advantage over me in combat. I believe, indeed, thou
art not afraid of any man breathing; and as I know thou
hast some obligations to my brother, I do not discom-
mend thee ; for nothing more becomes the dignity of a
man than gratitude. Besides, as I am satisfied my bro-
ther can produce the author of the slander, (I say, I am
satisfied of that ; d — n me, if any man alive dares assert
the contrary, for that would be to make my brother
himself a liar,) I will make him produce his author; and
then, my dear boy, your doing yourself proper justice
there will bring you finely out of the whole aff'air. As
soon as my surgeon gives me leave to go abroad, which
I hope will be in a few days, I will bring my brother
James to a tavern, where you shall meet us ; and I will
engage my honour, my whole dignity to you, to make
you friends."
The assurance of the colonel gave Booth great pleas-
ure ; for few persons ever loved a friend better than he
did James; and as for doing military justice on the au-
thor of that scandalous report which had incensed his
friend against him, not Bath himself was ever more ready
on such an occasion than Booth to execute it. He
soon after took his leave, and returned home in high
spirits to his Amelia, whom he found in Mrs. Ellison's
apartment, engaged in a party at ombre with that lady
and her right honourable cousin.
His lordship had, it seems, had a second interview
with the great man, and having obtained farther hopes
(for I think there was not yet an absolute promise) of
success in INIr. Booth's affairs, his usual good-nature
brought him immediately to acquaint Mr. Booth with it.
As he did not therefore find him at home, and as he met
with the two ladies together, he resolved to stay till his
friend's return, w^hich he was assured would not be
long, especially as he was so lucky, he said, to have no
particular engaarement that whole evening.
200 THE HISTORY Of AMELIA.
We remarked before that his lordship, at the first in-
terview with AmeUa, had distinguished her by a more
particular address from the other ladies ; but that now
appeared to be rather owing to his perfect good-breed-
ing, as she was then to be considered as the mistress of
the house, than from any other preference. His pres-
ent behaviour made this still more manifest ; for as he
was now in Mrs. EUison's apartment, though she was
his relation and an old acquaintance, he applied his con-
versation rather more to her than to Amelia. His eyes,
indeed, were now and then guilty of the contrary dis-
tinction, but this was only by stealth; for they con-
stantly withdrew the moment they were discovered.
In short, he treated Amelia with the greatest distance,
and at the same time with the most profound and awful
respect : his conversation was so general, so lively, and
so obhging, that Amelia, when she added to his agree-
ableness the obligations she had to him for his friend-
ship to Booth, was certainly as much pleased with his
lordship as any virtuous woman can possibly be with
any man besides her own husband.
Chapter VII. — Containing various matters.
We have already mentioned the good-humour in which
Booth returned home ; and the reader will easily beheve
it was not a little increased by the good-humour in
which he found his company. My lord received him
with the utmost marks of friendship and affection, and
told him that his affairs went on as well almost as he
himself could desire, and that he doubted not very soon
to wish him joy of a company.
When Booth had made a proper return to all his lord-
ship's unparalleled goodness, he whispered Amelia that
the colonel was entirely out of danger, and almost as
well as himself. This made her satisfaction complete,
threw her into such spirits, and gave such a lustre to
her eyes, that her face, as Horace says, was too dazzling
to be looked at ; it was certainly too handsome to be
looked at without the highest admiration.
His lordship departed about ten o'clock, and left the
company in raptures with him, especially the two ladies,
of whom it is difficult to say which exceeded the other
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 201
in his commendations. Mrs. Ellison swore she believed
he was the best of all human kind ; and Amelia, with-
out making aii}' exception, declared he was the finest
gentleman and the most agreeable man she had ever
seen in her life ; adding, it was a great pity he should
remain single. " That's true, indeed," cries Mrs. Elli-
son ; " and I have often lamented it, nay, I am aston-
ished at it, considering the great liking he always show8
for our sex, and he may certainly have the choice of
all. The real reason, I believe, is his fondness for his
sister's children. I declare, madam, if you was to see
his behaviour to them, you would think they were his
own. Indeed, he is vastly fond of all manner of chil-
dren." "Good creature!" cries Amelia: "if ever he
does me the honour of another visit, I am resolved I will
show him my little things. I think, Mrs. Ellison, as
you say my lord loves children, I may say without van-
ity, he will not see many such." " No, indeed, will he
not," answered Mrs. Ellison ; " and now I think on't,
madam, I wonder at my own stupidity in never making
the offer before ; but, since you put it into my head, if
you will give me leave, I'll take master and miss to
wait on my lord's nephew and niece. They are very
pretty-behaved children ; and little master and miss will
be, 1 dare swear, very happy in their acquaintance : be-
sides, if my lord himself should see them, I know what
will happen, for he is the most generous of all human
beings."
Amelia very readily accepted the favour which Mrs.
Ellison offered her ; but Booth expressed some reluc-
tance. " Upon my word, my dear," said he, with a
smile, " this behaviour of ours puts me in mind of the
common conduct of beggars ; who, whenever they re-
ceive a favour, are sure to send other objects to the
same fountain of charity. Don't we, my dear, repay
our obligations to my lord in the same manner, by send-
ing our children a begging to him V
" Oh, beastly !" cries Mrs. Ellison : " how could such
a thought enter your brains 1 I protest, madam, 1 begin
to grow ashamed of this husband of yours. How can
you have so vulgar a way of thinking 1 Begging in-
deed ! the poor little dear things a begging ! if my lord
was capable of such a thought, though he was my own
brother instead of my cousin, I should scorn him too
much ever to enter his doors." " Oh, dear madam,"
13
202 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
answered Amelia, " you take Mr. Booth too seriously,
when he was only in jest ; and the children shall wait
upon you whenever you please."
Though Booth had been a little more in earnest than
Amelia had represented him, and was not, perhaps, quite
so much in the wrong as he was considered by Mrs.
Ellison, yet, seeing there were two to one against him,
he wisely thought proper to recede, and let his simile
go off with that air of a jest which his wife had given it.
Mrs. ElHson, however, could not let it pass without
paying some compliments to Amelia's understanding,
nor without some obscure reflections upon Booth, with
whom she was more offended than the matter required.
She was, indeed, a woman of most profuse generosi4;y,
and could not bear a thought which she deemed vulgar
or sneaking. She afterward launched forth the most
profuse encomiums of his lordship's liberality ; and con-
cluded the evening with some instances which he had
given of that virtue, which, if not the noblest, is, per-
haps, one of the most useful to society, with which
great and rich men can be endowed.
The next morning early. Sergeant Atkinson came to
wait on Lieutenant Booth, and desired to speak with his
honour in private ; upon which, the lieutenant and ser-
geant took a walk together in the park. Booth expected
every minute when the sergeant would open his mouth,
under which expectation he continued until he came to
the end of the Mall, and so he might have continued till
he came to the end of the world ; for, though several
words stood at the end of the sergeant's lips, there they
were likely to remain for ever. He was, indeed, in the
condition of a miser» whom a charitable impulse has
impelled to draw a few pence to the edge of his pocket,
where they are altogether as secure as if they were in
the bottom ; for, as the one has not the heart to part
with a farthing, so neither had the other the heart to
speak a word.
Booth at length, wondering that the sergeant did not
speak, asked him what his business was ; when the
latter, with a stammering voice, began the following
apology : " I hope, sir, your honour will not be angry,
nor take anything amiss of me : I do assure you, it was
not of my seeking ; nay, I dare not proceed in a matter
without first asking your leave. Indeed, if I had taken
any liberties from the goodness you have been pleased
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 203
to show me, 1 should look upon myself as one of the
most worthless and despicable of wretches ; but nothing
is farther from my thoughts. I know the distance that
is between us ; and because your honour has been so
kind and good as to treat me with more familiarity than
any other officer ever did, if I had been base enough to
take any freedoms, or to encroach upon your honour's
goodness, I should deserve to be whipped through the
regiment. 1 hope, therefore, sir, you will not suspect
me of any such attempt."
" What can all this mean, Atkinson I" cries Booth :
" what mighty matter would you introduce with all this
previous apology V
" I am almost ashamed and afraid to mention it," an-
swered the sergeant ; " and yet I am sure your honour
will believe what 1 have said, and not think anything
owing to my own presumption ; and, at the same time,
I have no reason to think you would do anything to spoil
my fortune in an honest way, when it is dropped into
my lap without my own seeking ; for, may 1 perish, if
it is not all the lady's own goodness ; and I hope in
heaven, with your honour's leave, I shall live to make
her amends for it." In a word, that we may not detain
the reader's curiosity quite so long as he did Booth's, he
acquainted that gentleman that he had an offer of mar-
riage from a lady of his acquaintance, to whose com-
pany he had introduced him, and desired his permission
to accept of it.
Booth must have been very dull, indeed, if, after what
the sergeant had said, and after what he had heard Mrs.
Ellison say, he had wanted any information concerning
the lady. He answered him briskly and cheerfully, that
he had his free consent to marry any woman whatever;
*' and the greater and richer she is," added he, " the
more I shall be pleased with the match. I don't in-
quire who the lady is," said he, smiling ; " but I hope
she will make as good a wife, as, I am convinced, her
husband will deserve."
" Your honour has been always too good to me," cries
Atkinson : " but this I promise you, 1 will do all in my
power to merit the kindness she is pleased to show me.
I will be bold to say, she will marry an honest man,
though he is but a poor one ; and she shall never want
anything which I can give her or do for her, while my
name is Joseph Atkinson."
204 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
" And so her name is a secret, Joe, is it "f" cries
Booth.
" Why, sir," answered the sergeant, " I hope your
honour will n(U insist upon knowinar that, as I think it
would be dishonourable in me U) mention it."
"Not at all," replied Booth: "I am the farthest in
the world from any such desire. I know you better
than to imagine you would disclose the name of the fair
lady." Booth then shook Atkinson heartily by the hand,
and assured him earnestly of the joy he had in his good
fortune ; for which the good sergeant failed not of making
all proper acknowledgments. After which they de-
parted, and Booth returned home.
As Mrs. Ellison opened the door, Booth hastily rushed
by ; for he had the utmost difficulty to prevent laughing
in her face. He ran directly up stairs, and, throwing
himself into a chair, discharged such a fit of laughter,
as greatly surprised, and at first almost frightened his
wife.
Amelia, it will be supposed, presently inquired into
the cause of this phenomenon, with which Booth, as
soon as he was able, (for that was not within a few
minutes.) acquainted her. The news did not aftect her
in the same manner as it had affected her husband. On
the contrary, she cried, " I protest I cannot guess what
makes you see it in so ridiculous a light. I really think
Mrs. Ellison has chosen very well. 1 am convinced Joe
will make her one of the best of husbands; and in my
opinion that is the greatest blessing a woman can be
possessed of."
However, when Mrs. Ellison came into her room a
little while afterward to fetch the children, Amelia be-
came of a more risible disposition ; especially when the
former, turning to Booth, who was then present, said,
"So, captain, my janty sergeant was very early here
this morning : I scolded my maid heartily for letting him
wait so long in the entry like a lakcey, when she might
have shown him into my inner apartment:" at which
words Booth burst into a very loud laugh ; and Amelia
herself could no more prevent laughing than she could
blushing.
" Heyday !" cries Mrs. Ellison ; " what have I said to
cause all this mirth V and at the same time blushed, and
looked very silly, as is always the case with persons who
suspect themselves to be the objects of laughter, without
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 205
absolutely taking what it is which makes them ridicu-
lous.
Booth still continued laughing; but Ameha, compo-
sing her muscles, said, " I ask your pardon, dear Mrs.
Ellison ; but Mr. Booth has been in a strange giggling
humour all this morning, and I really think it is infec-
tious."
*' I ask your pardon, too, madam," cries Booth; "but
one is sometimes unaccountably foolish."
" Nay, but seriously," said she, "• what is the matter .•
Something I said about the sergeant, I believe ; but you
may laugh as much as you please. I am not ashamed of
owning, I think him one of the prettiest fellows I ever
saw in my life ; and, I own, I scolded my maid at suffer-
ing him to wait in my entry ; and where is the mighty
ridiculous matter, pray V
" None at all," answered Booth ; " and I hope the next
time he will be ushered into your inner apartment."
" Why should he not, sir V replied she : " for wher-
ever he is ushered, I am convinced he will behave him-
self as a gentleman should."
Here Amelia put an end to the discourse, or it might
have proceeded to very great lengths ; for Booth was of
a waggish inchnation, and Mrs. Ellison was not a lady
of the nicest delicacy.
Chapter VIII. — The heroic behaviour of Colonel Bath.
Booth went this morning to pay a second visit to the
colonel, where he found Colonel James. Both the colo-
nel and the heutenant appeared a little shocked at their
first meeting ; but matters were soon cleared up ; for the
former presently advanced to the latter, shook him heart-
ily by the hand, and said, " Mr. Booth, I am ashamed to
see you ; for I have injured you, and I heartily ask your
pardon. I am now perfectly convinced that what I
hinted to my brother, and which 1 find had like to have
produced such fatal consequences, was entirely ground-
less. If you will be contented with my asking your
pardon, and spare me the disagreeable remembrance of
what led me into my error, I shall esteem it as the high-
est obligation."
Booth answered, " As to what regards yourself, my
18
206 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
dear colonel, I am abundantly satisfied : but, as I am
convinced some rascal has been my enemy with you in
the cruellest manner, I hope you will not deny me the
opportunity of kicking him through the world."
"By all the dignity of man," cries Colonel Bath, " the
boy speaks with "spirit, and his request is reasonable."
Colonel James hesitated a moment, and then whis-
pered Booth, that he would give him all the satisfaction
imaginable concerning the whole afiair when they were
alone together; upon which Booth addressing himself
to Colonel Bath, the discourse turned on other matters
during the remainder of the visit, which was but short ;
and then both went away together, leaving Colonel Bath
as well as it was possible to expect, more to the satisfac-
tion of Booth than of Colonel James, who would not
have been displeased if his wound had been more dan-
gerous ; for he had grown somewhat weary of a dispo-
sition that he rather called captious than heroic, and
which, as he every day more and more hated his wife,
he apprehended might some time or other give him some
trouble; for Bath was the most affectionate of brothers,
and had often sworn, in the presence of James, that he
would eat any man alive who should use his sister ill.
Colonel Bath was well satisfied that his brother and
the heutenant were gone out with a design of tilting,
from which he offered not a syllable to dissuade them,
as he was convinced it was right, and that Booth could
not in honour take, nor the colonel give, any less satis-
faction. When they had been gone Iherefore about half
an hour, he rang his bell to inquire if there was any news
of his brother ; a question which he repeated every ten
minutes for the space of two hours, when, having
heard nothing of him, he began to conclude that both
were killed on the spot.
While he w^as in this state of anxiety, his sister came
to see him ; for, notwithstanding his desire of keep-
ing it a secret, the duel had blazed all over the town.
After receiving some kind congratulations on his safety,
and some unkind hints concerning the warmth of his
temper, the colonel asked her when she had seen her
husband: she answered, not that morning. He then
communicated to her his suspicion : told her he was
convinced his brother had drawn his sword that day;
and that, as neither of them had heard anything from
him, he began to apprehend the worst that could happen.
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 207
Neither Miss Bellamy nor Mrs. Gibber were ever in a
greater consternation on the stage, than now appeared
in the countenance of Mrs. James. " Good Heavens !
brother," cries she, " what do you tell me 1 you have
frightened me to death. Let your man get me a glass
of water immediately, if you have not a mind to see me
die before your face. When, where, how was this quar-
rel ? why did you not prevent it, if you knew of it 1 is it
not enough to be every day tormenting me with hazard-
ing your own hfe ; but must j^ou bring the life of one
who you know must be, and ought to be, so much the
dearest of all to me, into danger ] Take your sword,
brother, take your sword, and plunge it into my bosom ;
it would be kinder of you than to fill it with such dreads
and terrors." Here she swallowed the glass of water;
and then threw herself back in her chair, as if she had
intended to faint away.
Perhaps, if she had so, the colonel would have lent her
no assistance; for she had hurt him more than by ten
thousand stabs. He sat erect in his chair, with his eye-
brows knit, his forehead wrinkled, his eyes flashing fire,
his teeth grating against each other, and breathing hor-
ror all around him. In this posture he sat for some
time silent, casting disdainful looks at his sister. At
last, his voice found its way through a passion which
had almost choked him ; and he cried out, " Sister, what
have I done to deserve the opinion you express of me ?
which of my actions has made you conclude that I am
a rascal and a coward? look at that poor sword, which
never woman yet saw but in its sheath ; what has that
done to merit your desire that it should be contaminated
with the blood of a woman ?"
" Alas ! brother," cried she, " I know not what you
say; you are desirous, I believe, to terrify me out of the
little senses I have left. What can I have said, in the
agonies of grief into which you threw me, to deserve
this passion ]"
" What have you said V answered the colonel : " you
have said that which, if a man had spoken, nay, d — n
me, if he had but hinted that he durst even think, I would
have made him eat my sword, by all the dignity of man ;
I would have crumbled his soul into powder. But I con-
sider that the words were spoken by a woman, and I am
calm again. Consider, my dear, that you are my sister,
and behave yourself with more spirit. I have only men-
208 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
tioned to you my surmise. It may not have happened
as I suspect ; but let what will have happened, you
will have the comfort that your husband has behaved
himself with becoming dignity, and lies in the bed of
honour."
" Talk not to me of such comfort," replied the lady :
*'it is a loss I cannot survive. But why do I sit here
lamenting myself] I will go this instant, and know the
worst of my fate, if my trembling limbs will carry me
to my coach. Good morrow, dear brother; whatever
become of me, I am glad to find you out of danger."
The colonel paid her his proper compliments, and she
then left the room ; but returned instantly back, saying,
" Brother, I must beg the favour of you to let your foot-
man step to my mantua-maker : I am sure it is a miracle,
in my present distracted condition, how it came into
my head." The footman was presently summoned,
and Mrs. James delivered him his message, which was
to countermand the orders which she had given that
very morning, to make her up a new suit of brocade.
" Heaven knows," says she, " now, when I can wear
brocade, or whether ever I shall wear it." And now,
having repeated her message with great exactness, lest
there should be any mistake, she again lamented her
wretched situation, and then departed, leaving the colo-
nel in full expectation of hearing speedy news of the
fatal issue of the battle.
But, though the reader should entertain the same
curiosity, we must be excused from satisfying it, till
we have first accounted for an incident which we have
related in this very chapter, and which we think de-
serves some solution ; the critic, 1 am convinced, al-
ready is apprized, that I mean the friendly behaviour of
James to Booth, which, from what we have before re-
corded, seemed so little to be expected.
It must be remembered, that the anger which the for-
mer of these gentlemen had conceived against the latter
arose entirely from the- false account given by Miss
Matthews of Booth, whom that lady had accused to
Colonel James of having as basely as wickedly traduced
his character.
Now, of all the ministers of vengeance, there are none
with whom the devil deals so treacherously as with
those whom he employs in executing the mischievous
purposes of an angry mistress ; for no sooner is revenge
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 209
executed on an offending lover, than it is sure to be re-
pented ; and all the anger, which before raged against
the beloved object, returns with double fury on the head
of his assassin.
^ Miss Matthews, therefore, no sooner heard that Booth
was killed, (for so was the report at first,) and by a colo-
nel of the army, than she immediately concluded it to
be James. She was extremely shocked with the news,
and her heart instantly began to relent. All the reasons
on which she had founded her love recurred in the
strongest and liveliest colours to her mind, and all the
causes of her hatred sunk down and disappeared ; or if
the least remembrance of anything which had disobliged
her remained, her heart became his zealous advocate,
and soon satisfied her that her own fates were more to
be blamed than he ; and that, without being a villain, he
could have acted no otherwise than he had done.
In this temper of mind, she looked on herself as the
murderer of an innocent man, and what to her was
much worse, of the man she had loved, and still did
love, with all the violence imaginable. She looked on
James as the tool with which she had done this murder ;
and, as it is usual for people, who have rashly or inad-
vertently made any animate or inanimate thing the in-
strument of mischief, to hate the innocent means by
which the mischief was effected, (for this is a subtle
method which the mind invents to excuse ourselves,
the last objects on whom we would willingly wreak our
vengeance,) so Miss Matthews now hated and cursed
James as the efficient cause of that act which she her-
self had contrived and laboured to carry into execution.
She sat down, therefore, in a furious agitation,, little
short of madness, and wrote the following letter : —
•' I hope this will find you in the hands of justice, for the murder
of one of the best friends that ever man was blessed with. In one
sense, indeed, he may seem to have deserved his fate, by choosing a
fool for a friend ; for who but a fool would have believed what the
anger and rage of an injured woman suggested ? a story so improb-
able, that I could scarce be thought in earnest when I mentioned it.
" Know then, cruel wretch, that poor Booth loved you of all men
breathing; and was, I believe, in your commendation, guilty of as
much falsehood as I was in what I told you concerning him.
"If this knowledge makes you miserable, it is no more than you
have made the unhappy F. Matthews."
18*
210 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
Chapter IX. — Being the last chapter of the fifth book.
We shall now return to Colonel James and Mr. Boothj^
who walked together from Colonel Bath's lodging witlP*
much more peaceable intentions than that gentleman
had conjectured, who dreamed of nothing but swords
and guns, and implements of war.
The Birdcage walk in the Park was the scene ap-
pointed by James for unburdening his mind : thither
they came, and there James acquainted Booth with all
that which the reader knows already, and gave him the
letter which we have inserted at the end of the last
chapter.
Booth expressed great astonishment at this relation,
not without venting some detestation of the wickedness
of Miss Matthews ; upon which James took him up,
saying, he ought not to speak with such abhorrence of
faults which love for him had occasioned.
" Can you mention love, my dear colonel," cried
Booth, " and such a woman in the same breath "?"
" Yes, faith ! can I," says James ; " for the devil take
me if I know a more lovely woman in the world."
Here he began to describe her whole person; but as we
cannot insert all the description, so we shall omit it all ;
and concluded with saying, " Curse me if I don't think
her the finest creature in the universe. 1 would give
half my estate, Booth, if she loved me as well as she
does you : though, on second consideration, I believe I
should repent that bargain ; for then, verj'' possibly, I
should not care a farthing for her."
*' You will pardon me, dear colonel," answered Booth ;
"but to me there appears somewhat very singular in
your way of thinking. Beauty is indeed the object of
liking, great qualities of admiration, good ones of esteem;
but the devil take me, if I think anything but love to be
the object of love."
" Is there not something too selfish," replied James,
" in that opinion 1 but without considering it in that
light, is it not of all things the most insipid 1 all oil ! all
sugar ! zounds ! it is enough to cloy the sharp-set ap-
petite of a parson. Acids surely are the most likely to
quicken."
" I do not love reasoning in allegories," cries Booth;
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 211
*« but with regard to love, I declare I never found any-
thing cloying in it. I have lived almost alone with my
wife near three years together, was never tired with her
(company, nor ever wished for any other; and, I am
€pure, I never tasted any of the acid you mention, to
Quicken my appetite."
*' This is all very extraordinary and romantic to me,"
answered the colonel: "if I was to be shut up three
years with the same woman, which Heaven forbid ! noth-
ing, I think, could keep me alive, but a temper as violent
as that of Miss Matthews : as to love it would make me
sick to death in the twentieth part of that time. If I
was so condemned, let me see, what would I wish the
woman to be ? I think no one virtue would be sufficient.
With the spirit of a tigress, I would have her be a prude,
a scold, a scholar, a critic, a wit, a politician, and a Ja-
cobite ; and then, perhaps, eternal opposition would
keep up our spirits ; and, wishing one another daily at
the devil, we should make a shift to drag on a damnable
state of life, without much spleen or vapours."
" And so you do not intend," cries Booth, *' to break
with this woman ?"
" Not more than I have already, if I can help it,"
answered the colonel.
" And you will be reconciled to her V said Booth.
"Yes, faith! will I, if I can," answered the colonel;
"I hope you have no objection."
" None, my dear friend," said Booth, " unless on your
account."
" I do believe you," said the colonel ; " and yet, let me
tell you, you are a very extraordinary man, not to desire
me to quit her on your own account. Upon my soul, I
begin to pity the woman who has placed her affection,
perhaps, on the only man in England of your age who
would not return it. But, for my part, I promise you, I
like her beyond all other women ; and while that is the
case, my boy, if her mind was as full of iniquity as Pan-
dora's box was of diseases, I'd hug her close in my arms,
and only take as much care as possible to keep the lid
down for fear of mischief. But come, dear Booth,"
said he, " let us consider your affairs, for I am ashamed
of having neglected them so long ; and the only anger
I have against this wench is, that she was the occasion
of it."
Booth then acquainted the colonel with the promises
212 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
he had received from the noble lord : upon which James
shook him by the hand, and heartily wished him joy,
crying, " I do assure you, if you have his interest, you
will need no other : I did not know you was acquainted
with him."
To which Mr. Booth answered, that he was but a new
acquaintance, and that he was recommended to him by
a lady.
" A lady !" cries the colonel : " well, 1 don't ask her
name. You are a happy man, Booth, among- the wo-
men ; and I assure you, you could have no stronger rec-
ommendation. The peer loves the ladies, I believe, as
well as ever Mark Antony did ; and it is not his fault,
if he has not spent as much upon them. If he once
fixes his eyes on a woman, he will stick at nothing to
get her."
"Ay, indeed !" cries Booth : " is that his character ?"
" Ay, faith !" answered the colonel, " and the char-
acter of most men besides him. Few of them, I mean,
will stick at anything beside their money. Jusgu' a la
bourse, is sometimes the boundary of love as well as
friendship : and, indeed, I never knew any other man
part with his money so very freely on these occasions.
You see, dear Booth, the confidence I have in your
honour."
" I hope, indeed, you have," cries Booth ; " but I
don't see what instance you now give me of that confi-
dence."
" Have not I shown you," answ^ered James, " where
you may carry your goods to market ? I can assure
you, my friend, that is a secret I would not impart to
every man in your situation, and all circumstances con-
sidered."
" I am very sorry, sir," cries Booth, very gravely, and
turning as pale as death, " you should entertain a thought
of this kind ; a thought which has almost frozen up my
blood. I am unwilling to believe there are such villains
in the world ; but there is none of them whom I should
detest half so much as myself, if my own mind had ever
suggested to me a hint of that kind. I have tasted of
some distresses of life, and I know not to what greater
I may be driven ; but my honour, I thank Heaven, is in
my own power ; and 1 can boldly say to Fortune, she
shall not rob me of it."
"Have I not expressed that confidence, my dear
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 213
Booth V answered the colonel. " And what you say
now well justifies my opinion ; for I do agree with you,
that, considering ali things, it would be the highest in-
stance of dishonour."
->> " Dishonour, indeed !" returned Booth : " what ! to
prostitute my wife ! Can I think there is such a wretch
breathing?"
" I don't know that," said the colonel ; " but I am sure
it was very far from my intention to insinuate the least
hint of any such matter to you. Nor can I imagine how
you yourself could conceive such a thought. The goods
I meant were no other than the charming person of Miss
Matthews, for whom I am convinced my lord would bid
a swinging price against me,"
Booth''s countenance greatly cleared up at this decla-
ration, and he answered with a smile, that he hoped he
need not give the colonel any assurances on that head.
However, though he was satisfied with regard to the
colonel's suspicions, yet some chimeras now arose in
his brain, which gave him no very agreeable sensations.
What these were, the sagacious reader may probably
suspect; but if he should not, we may, perhaps, have
occasion to open them in the sequel. Here we will
put an end to this dialogue, and to the fifth book of this
history.
BOOK VI.
Chapter I. — Panegyrics on beauty, with other grave matters.
The colonel and Booth walked together to the latter's
lodgings; for, as it was not that day in the week in
which all parts of the town are indifferent, Booth could
not wait on the colonel.
When they arrived in Spring Garden, Booth, to his
great surprise, found no one at home but the maid. In
truth, Amelia had accompanied Mrs. Ellison and her
children to his lordship's ; for, as her little girl showed
a great unwiUingness to go without her, the fond mother
was easily persuaded to make one of the company.
Booth had scarce ushered the colonel up to his apart-
214 THE HISTORY OP AMELIA.
ment, when a servant from Mrs. James knocked hastily
at the door. The lady, not meeting with her husband at
her return home, began to despair of him, and performed
everything which was decent on the occasion. An
apothecary was presently called with hartshorn and sal
volatile, a doctor was sent for, and messengers were
despatched every way ; among the rest, one was sent tD
inquire at the lodging of his supposed antagonist.
The servant, hearing that his master was alive and
well above stairs, ran up eagerly to acquaint him with
the dreadful situation in which he left his miserable lady
at home, and likewise with the occasion of all her dis-
tress, saying, that his lady had been at her brother's,
and heard there that his honour was killed in a duel by
Captain Booth,
The colonel smiled at this account, and bid the ser-
vant make haste back to contradict it : and then, turn-
ing to Booth, he said, " Was there ever such another
fellow as this brother of mine 1 I thought indeed his be-
haviour was somewhat odd at the time. I suppose he
overheard me whisper that I would give you satisfac-
tion, and thence concluded we went together with a
design of tilting. D — n the fellow! I begin to grow
heartily sick of him ; and wish I could get well rid of
him without cutting his throat, which I sometimes ap^
prehend he will insist on my doing, as a return for my
getting him made a lieutenant colonel."
While these two gentlemen were commenting on the
character of the third, Amelia and her company re-
turned, and all presently came up stairs, not only the
children, but the two ladies, laden with trinkets as if
they had been come from a fair. Amelia, who had
been highly delighted all the morning with the excessive
pleasure which her children enjoyed, when she saw
Colonel James with her husband, and perceived the most
manifest marks of that reconciliation which she knew
had been so long and so earnestly wished by Booth, be-
came so transported with joy, that her happiness was
scarce capable of addition. Exercise had painted her
face with vermilion ; and the highest good-humour had
so sweetened every feature, and a vast flow of spirits
had so lightened up her bright eyes, that she was all a
blaze of beauty. vShe seemed, indeed, as Milton sub-
limely describes Eve,
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 215
" Adorn'd
With what all earth or heaven could bestow
To make her amiable :"
Again,—
" Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eye,
In every gesture dignity and love :"
Or, as Waller sweetly, though less sublimely sings : —
" Sweetness, truth, and every grace.
Which time and use are wont to teach,
The eye may in a moment reach,
And read distmctly in her face."
Or, to mention one poet more, and him of all the sweet-
est, she seemed to be the very person of whom Suck-
ling wrote the following lines, where, speaking of Cupid,
he says —
" All his lovely looks, his pleasing fires ;
All his sweet motions, all his taking smiles ;
All that awakes, all that inflames desires ;
All that sweetly commands, all that beguiles ; —
He does into one pair of eyes convey.
And there begs leave that he himself may stay."
Such was Amelia at this time when she entered the
room ; and, having paid her respects to the colonel, she
went up to her husband, and cried, " Oh, my dear !
never were any creatures so happy as your little things
have been this whole morning; and all owing to my
lord's goodness : sure never was anything so good-na-
tured and so generous !" She then made the children
produce their presents, the value of which amounted to a
pretty large sum ; for there was a gold watch among
the trinkets that cost above twenty guineas.
Instead of discovering so much satisfaction on this
occasion as Ameha expected, Booth very gravely an-
swered, " And pray, my dear, how are we to repay all
these obhgations to his lordship V " How can you ask
so strange a question ]" cries Mrs. Ellison : " how little
do you know of the soul of generosity, (for sure my cousin
deserves that name,) when you call a few little trinkets
given to children an obligation !" " Indeed, my dear,"
cries Amelia, " I would have stopped his hand if it had
been possible ; nay, I was forced, at last, absolutely to
refuse, or I believe he would have laid a hundred pound
out on the children ; for I never saw any one so fond of
children, which convinces me he is one of the best of
i
216 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
men ; but I ask your pardon, colonel," said she, turning
to him : " I should not entertain you with these subjects ;
yet I know you have goodness enough to excuse the
folly of a mother."
The colonel made a very low assenting bow; and
soon after they all sat down to a small repast ; for the
colonel had promised Booth to dine with him when they
first came home together; and what he had since heard
from his own house, gave him still less inclination than
ever to repair thither»
But, besides both these, there was a third and stronger
inducement to him to pass the day with his friend ; and
this was the desire of passing it with his friend's wife.
When the colonel had first seen Amelia in France, she
was but just recovered from a consumptive habit, and
looked pale and thin: besides, his engagements with
Miss Bath at that time took total possession of him, and
guarded his heart from the impressions of another wo-
man ; and when he had dined with her in town, the
vexations through which she had lately passed had
somewhat deadened her beauty: besides, he was then
engaged, as we have seen, in a very warm pursuit of a
new mistress, but now he had no such impediment : for
though the reader has just before seen his warm decla-
ration of a passion for Miss Matthews, yet it may be
remembered that he had been in possession of her for
above a fortnight: and one of the happy properties of
this kind of passion is, that it can with equal violence
love half a dozen, or half a score different objects, at
one and the same time.
But, indeed, such were the charms now displayed by
Ameha, of which we endeavoured above to draw some
faint resemblance, that perhaps no other beauty could
have secured him from their influence ; and here, to
confess the truth in his favour, however the grave, or
rather the hypocritical part of mankind may censure it,
I am firmly persuaded, that to withdraw admiration from
exquisite beauty, or to feel no delight in gazing at it, is
as impossible as to feel no warmth from the most scorch-
ing rays of the sun. To run away is all that is in our
power ; and in the former case, if it must be allowed we
have the power of running away, it must be allowed also
that it requires the strongest resolution to execute it ;
for when, as Dryden says —
" All paradise is open'd in a face^
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 217
how natural is the desire of going thither! and how
difficult to quit the lovely prospect !
And yet, however difficult this may be, my young
readers, it is absolutely necessary, and that immediately
too : flatter not yourself that fire will not scorch as well
as warm ; and the longer we stay within its reach, the
more we shall burn. The admiration of a beautiful
women, though the wife of our dearest friend, may at
first perhaps be innocent; but let us not flatter ourselves
it will always remain so : desire is sure to succeed ; and
wishes, hopes, designs, with a long train of mischiefs,
tread close at our heels. In affairs of this kind we may
most properly apply the well-known remark of nemo re-
pentefuit turpissimus. It fares, indeed, with us, on this
occasion, as with the unwary traveller in some parts of
Arabia the Desert, whom the treacherous sands imper-
ceptibly betray till he is overwhelmed and lost. In both
cases the only safety is by withdrawing our feet the
very first moment we perceive them sliding.
This digression may appear impertinent to some
readers : we could not, however, avoid the opportunity
of offering the above hints ; since, of all passions, there
is none against which we should so strongly fortify our-
selves as this, which is generally called love; for no
other lays before us, especially in the tumultuous days
of youth, such sweet, such strong, and almost irresisti-
ble temptations ; none has produced in private life such
fatal and lamentable tragedies : and, what is worst of
all, there is none to whose poison and infatuation the
best of minds are so liable. Ambition scarce ever pro-
duces any evil, but when it reigns in cruel and savage
bosoms ; and avarice seldom flourishes at all but in the
basest and poorest soil. Love, on the contrary, sprouts
usually up in the richest and noblest minds ; but there,
unless nicely watched, pruned, and cultivated, and care-
fully kept clear of those vicious weeds which are too
apt to surround it, it branches forth into wildness and
disorder, produces nothing desirable, but chokes up
and kills whatever is good and noble in the mind where
it so abounds. In short, to drop the allegory, not only
tenderness and good-nature, but bravery, generosity,
and every virtue are often made the instruments of
effecting the most atrocious purposes of this all-subdu-
ing tyrant.
19 K
218 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
Chapter II.— Which will not appear, we presume, unnatural to all
married readers.
If the table of poor Booth afforded but an indifferent
repast to the colonel's hunger, here was most excellent
entertainment of a much higher kind. The colonel
began now to wonder within himself at his not having
before discovered such incomparable beauty and excel-
lence. This wonder was indeed so natural, that, lest it
should arise likewise in the reader, we thought proper
to give the solution of it in the preceding chapter.
During the first two hours, the colonel scarce ever
had his eyes off from Amelia ; for he was taken by sur-
prise, and his heart was gone before he suspected him-
self to be in any danger. His mind, however, no sooner
suggested a certain secret to him, than it suggested
some degree of prudence to him at the same time ; and
the knowledge that he had thoughts to conceal, and the
care of concealing them, had birth at one and the same
instant. During the residue of the day, therefore, he
grew more circumspect, and contented himself with
now and then stealing a look by chance ; especially as
the more than ordinary gravity of Booth made him
fear, that his former behaviour had betrayed to Booth's
observation the great and sudden liking he had con-
ceived for his wife, even before he had observed it in
himself.
Amelia continued the whole day in the highest spirits
and highest good-humour imaginable, never once re-
marking that appearance of discontent in her husband,
of which the colonel had taken notice ; so much more
quick-sighted, as we have somewhere else hinted, is
guilt than innocence. Whether Booth had in reality
made any such observations on the colonel's behaviour
as he had suspected, w^e will not undertake to determine ;
yet, so far may be material to say, as we can M^ith
sufficient certainty, that the change in Booth's behaviour
that day, from what was usual with him, was remark-
able enough. None of his former vivacity appeared in
his conversation; and his countenance was altered,
from being the picture of sweetness and good-humour,
not indeed to sourness or moroseness, but to gravity
and melancholy.
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 219
Though the colonel's suspicion had the effect which
we have mentioned on his behaviour, yet it could not
persuade him to depart. In short, he sat in his chair,
as if confined to it by enchantment, stealing looks now
and then, and humouring his growing passion, without
having command enough over his limbs to carry him
out of the room, till decency, at last, forced him to put
an end to his preposterous visit. When the husband
and wife were left alone together, the latter resumed
the subject of her children, and gave Booth a particular
narrative of all that had passed at his lordship's, which
he, though something had certainly disconcerted him,
affected to receive with all the pleasure he could ; and
this affectation, however awkwardly he acted his part,
passed very well on Amelia; for she could not well con-
ceive a displeasure, of which she had not the least hint
of any cause ; and, indeed, at a time, when, from his rec-
onciliation with James, she imagined her husband to be
entirely and perfectly happy.
The greatest part of that night Booth passed awake ;
and if, during the residue, he might be said to sleep, he
could scarce be said to enjoy repose: his eyes were no
sooner closed, than he was pursued and haunted by the
most frightful and terrifying dreams, which threw him
into so restless a condition, that he soon disturbed his
Amelia, and greatly alarmed her with apprehensions
that he had been seized by some dreadful disease, though
he had not the least symptoms of a fever, by extraordi-
nary heat, or any other indication ; but was rather colder
than usual.
As Booth assured his wife that he was very well, but
found no inclination to sleep, she likewise bid adieu to
her slumbers, and attempted to entertain him with her
conversation. Upon which, his lordship occurred as the
first topic ; and she repeated to him all the stories which
she had heard from Mrs. Ellison, of the peer's goodness
to his sister, and his nephew and niece. " It is impos-
sible, my dear," says she, " to describe their fondness
for their uncle, which is to me an incontestable proof of
a parent's goodness." In this manner she ran on for
several minutes, concluding at last, that it was pity so
very few had such generous minds joined to immense
fortunes.
Booth, instead of making a direct answer to what
Amelia had said, cried coldly, *' But do you think, my
K2
220 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
dear, it was right to accept all those expensive toys
which the children brought home ? and I ask you again,
what return are we to make for these obligations ?"
" Indeed, my dear," cries Amelia, " you see this mat-
ter in too serious a light. Though I am the last person
in the world who would lessen his lordship's goodness,
(indeed, I shall always think we are both infinitely obliged
to him,) yet sure you must allow the expense to be
a mere trifle to such a vast fortune. As for return, his
own benevolence, in the satisfaction it receives, more
than repays itself; and I am convinced he expects no
other."
" Very well, my dear," cries Booth ; " j^ou shall have
it your own way : 1 must confess I never yet found any
reason to blame your discernment ; and perhaps I have
been in the wrong to give myself so much uneasiness on
this account."
" Uneasiness, child !" said Ameha, eagerly ; " good
Heavens ! has this made you uneasy ]"
" I do own it has," answered Booth ; " and it has been
the only cause of breaking my repose."
" Why then T wish," cries Amelia, " all the things had
been at the devil before ever the children had seen them ;
and whatever I may think myself, I promise you, they
shall never more accept the value of a farthing. If,
upon this occasion, I have been the cause of your unea-
siness, you will do me the justice to believe that I was
totally innocent."
At these words Booth caught her in his arms, and,
with the tenderest embrace, emphatically repeating the
word innocent, cried, " Heaven forbid I should think
otherwise ! Oh, thou art the best of creatures that ever
blessed a man I"
" Well, but," said she, smiling, " do confess, my dear,
the truth; I promise you I won't blame you nor dis-
esteem you for it: but is not pride really at the bottom
of this fear of an obligation ]"
"Perhaps it may," answered he; "or, if you will,
you may call it fear. I own I am afraid of obligations,
as the worst kind of debts ; for I have generally ob-
served, those who confer them expect to be repaid ten
thousand-fold."
Here ended all that is material of their discourse ;
and, a little time afterward, they both fell fast asleep
in one another's arms ; from which time Booth had no
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 221
more restlessness, nor any further perturbation in his
dreams.
Their repose, however, had been so much disturbed
in the former part of the night, that, as it was very late
before they enjoyed that sweet sleep I have just men-
tioned, they lay abed the next day till noon, when they
both rose witfi the utmost cheerfulness ; and, while
Amelia bestirred herself in the affairs of her family,
Booth went to visit the wounded colonel.
He found that gentleman still proceeding very fast in
his recovery, with which he was more pleased than he
had reason to be with his reception; for the colonel re-
ceived him very coldly indeed ; and when Booth told
him he had received perfect satisfaction from his bro-
ther, Bath erected his head, and answered, with a sneer,
" Very well, sir, if you think these matters can be so
made up, d — n me, if it is any business of mine. My
dignity has not been injured."
" No one, I believe," cries Booth, "dare injure it."
"You believe soV said the colonel; "I think, sir,
you might be assured of it; but this, at least, you may
be assured of; that if any man did, I would tumble him
down the precipice of hell, d — n me, that you may be
assured of."
As Booth found the colonel in this disposition, he had
no great inclination to lengthen out his visit, nor did the
colonel himself seem to desire it ; so he soon returned
back to his Amelia, whom he found performing the
office of a cook, with as much pleasure as a fine lady
generally enjoys in dressing herself out for a ball.
Chapter III.— In which the history looks a little backward.
Before we proceed farther in our history, we shall
recount a short scene to our reader which passed be-
tween Amelia and Mrs. EUison, while Booth was on his
visit to Colonel Bath. We have already observed that
Amelia had conceived an extraordinary affection for
Mrs. Bennet, which had still increased every time she
saw her ; she thought she discovered something won-
derfully good and gentle in her countenance and dis-
position, and was very desirous of knowing her whole
history.
19*
222 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
She had a very short interview with that lady this
morning in Mrs. Ellison's apartment. As soon, there-
fore, as Mrs. Bennet was gone, Amelia acquainted Mrs.
Ellison with the good opinion she had conceived of her
friend, and likewise with her curiosity to know her
story ; " for there must be something uncommonly
good," said she, " in one who can so truly mourn for a
husband above three years after his death."
" Oh," cries Mrs. Ellison, " to be sure the world must
allow her to have been one of the best of wives : and
indeed, upon the whole, she is a good sort of woman ;
and what I like her the best for, is a strong resemblance
that she bears to yourself in the form of her person,
and still more in her voice. But, for my own part, I
know nothing remarkable in her fortune, unless what I
have told you, that she was the daughter of a clergy-
man, had httle or no fortune, and married a poor parson
for love, who left her in the utmost distress. If you
please, I will show you a letter which she wrote to
me at that time, though I insist upon your promise
never to mention it to her ; indeed, you will be the first
person I ever showed it to." She then opened the
escritoire, and, taking out the letter, delivered it to
Amelia, saying, " There, madam, is, I believe, as fine a
picture of distress as can well be drawn."
" Dear Madam
" As I have no other friend on earth but yourself, I hope you will
pardon my writing to you at this season ; though I do not know that
you can relieve my distresses ; or, if you can, have 1 any pretence
to expect that you should. My poor, dear — oh heavens ! my
lies dead in the house ; and, after I had procured sufficient to bury
him, a set of ruffians have entered my house, seized all 1 have, have
seized his dear, dear corpse, and threaten to deny its burial. For
Heaven's sake, send me, iit least, some advice ; little Tommy stands
now by me crying for bread, which I have not to give him. 1 can
say no more, than that I am your most distressed, humble servant,
^ _ "M. Bennet." ;
Amelia read the letter over twice, and then returning
it, with tears in her eyes, asked how the poor creature
could possibly get through such distress.
"You may depend upon it, madam," said Mrs. Elli-
son, " the moment I read this account, I posted away
immediately to the lady. As to the seizing of the body,
that 1 found was a mere bugbear ; but all the rest was
literally true. I sent immediately for the same gentle-
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 223
man that I recommended to Mr. Booth ; left the care of
burying: the corpse to him, and brought my friend and
her Httle boy immediately away to my own house,
where she remained some months in the most miserable
condition. I then prevailed with her to retire into the
country, and procured her a lodging with a friend at
St. Edmundsbury, the air and gayety of which place, by
degrees, recovered her; and she returned in about a
twelvemonth to town, as well, I think, as she is at
present."
" I am almost afraid to ask," cries Amelia ; " and yet
I long methinks to know what is become of the poor
little boy."
" He has been dead," said Mrs. Ellison, " a little more
than half a year ; and the mother lamented him at first
almost as much as she did her husband ; but I found it
indeed rather an easier matter to comfort her, though I
sat up with her near a fortnight upon the latter occa-
sion."
" You are a good creature," said Amelia, " and I love
you dearly."
" Alas ! madam," she cries, " what could I have done,
if it had not been for the goodness of that best of men,
my noble cousin 1 His lordship no sooner heard of the
widow's distress from me, than he immediately settled
one hundred and fifty pounds a year upon her during
her life."
" Well ! how noble, how generous was that !" said
Amelia : " I declare I begin to love your cousin, Mrs.
Ellison."
" And I declare, if you do," answered she, " there is
no love lost: I verily believe, if you had heard what
1 heard him say yesterday behind your back — "
" Why, what did he say, Mrs. Ellison V cries Amelia.
" He said," answered the other, " that you were the
finest woman his eyes ever beheld : ah ! it is in vain
to wish, and yet I cannot help wishing too. Oh, Mrs.
Booth ! if you had been a single woman, I firmly be-
lieve I could have made you the happiest in the world ;
and I sincerely think I never saw a woman who de-
served it more."
" I am obliged to you, madam," cries Amelia, " for
your good opinion ; but I really look on myself as the
happiest woman in the world. Our circumstances, it
is true, might have been a little more fortunate ; but,
224 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
oh, my dear Mrs. Ellison ! what fortune can be put in
the balance with such a husband as mine ?"
"I am afraid, dear madam," answered Mrs. Ellison,
" you would not hold the scale fairly. I acknowledge,
indeed, Mr. Booth is a very pretty gentleman ; Heaven
forbid I should endeavour to lessen him in your opin-
ion ; yet, if I was to be brought to confession, 1 could
not help saying, I see where the superiority lies, and
that the men have more reason to envy Mr. Booth,
than the women have to envy his lady."
" Nay, I will not bear this," replied Amelia : " you
will forfeit all my love, if you have the least disrespect-
ful opinion of my husband. You do not know him,
Mrs. Ellison : he is the best, the kindest, the worthiest
of all his sex. I have observed, indeed, once or twice
before, that you have taken some dislike to him, I can-
not conceive for what reason. If he has said or done
anything to disoblige you, I am sure I can justly acquit
him of design. His extreme vivacity makes him some-
times a little too heedless ; but I am convinced, a more
innocent heart, or one more void of offence, was never
in a human bosom."
" Nay, if you grow serious," cries Mrs. Ellison, " I
have done. How is it possible you should suspect I
had taken any dislike to a man, to whom I have always
shown so perfect a regard ] but to say I think him, or
almost any other man in the world, worthy of yourself,
is not within my power with truth. And, since you
force the confession from me, I declare I think such
beauty, such sense, and such goodness united, might as-
pire, without vanity, to the arms of any monarch in Eu-
rope."
" Alas ! my dear Mrs. Ellison," answered Amelia, " do
you think happiness and a crown so closely united?
how many miserable women have lain in the arms of
kings ! Indeed, Mrs. Ellison, if I had all the merit you
compliment me with, I should think it fully rewarded
with such a man, as, I thank Heaven, has fallen to my
lot ; not would I, upon my soul, exchange that lot with
any queen in the universe."
" Well, there are enough of our sex," said Mrs. Elli-
son, " to keep you in countenance ; but I shall never for-
get the beginning of a &ong of Mr. Congreve's, that my
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 225
husband was so fond of, that he was always singing
it: —
• Love's but a frailty of the mind,
When 'tis not with ambition join'd.'
Love, without interest, makes but an unsavoury dish,
in my opinion."
"And pray, how long has this been your opinion 1"
said Amelia, smiling.
"Ever since I was born," answered Mrs. Ellison; "at
least, ever since I can remember."
" And have you never," said Amelia, " deviated from
this generous way of thinking !"
"Never once," answered the other, "in the whole
course of my life."
" Oh, Mrs. Ellison ! Mrs. Ellison !" cries Amelia, " why
do we ever blame those who are disingenuous in con-
fessing their faults, when we are so often ashamed to
own ourselves in the right ] Some women now in my
situation would be angry that you had not made confi-
dants of them ; but I never desire to know more of
the secrets of others than they are pleased to intrust
me with. You must believe, however, that I should not
have given you these hints of my knowing all, if I had
disapproved of your choice : on the contrary, I assure
you 1 highly approve it. The gentility he wants, it will
be easily in your power to procure for him ; and as for his
good qualities, I will myself be bound for them : and, I
make not the least doubt, as you have owned to me your-
self that you have placed your affections on him, you will
be one of the happiest women in the world."
" Upon my honour," cries Mrs. Ellison, very gravely,
" I do not understand one word of what you mean."
" Upon my honour, you astonish me," said Amelia ;
" but I have done."
" Nay, then," said the other, " I insist upon knowing
what you mean."
" Why, what can I mean," answered Amelia, " but
your marriage with Sergeant Atkinson?"
"With Sergeant Atkinson!" cries Mrs. Ellison, ea-
gerly ; " my marriage with a sergeant !"
" Well, with Mr. Atkinson then — Captain Atkinson,
if you please ; for so I hope to see him."
" And have you really no better opinion of me," said
Mrs. Ellison, " than to imagine me capable of such con-
K3
226 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
descension ? What have I done, dear Mrs. Booth, to
deserve so low a place in your esteem 1 I find, indeed,
as Solomon says, women ought to watch the door of
their lips. How little did I imagine, that a little harm-
less freedom in discourse could persuade any one that I
could entertam a serious intention of disgracing my
family ! for of a very good family am I come, I assure
you, madam, though 1 now let lodgings. Few of my
lodgers, I believe, ever came of a better."
" If 1 have offended you, madam," said Amelia, " I
am very sorry, and ask your pardon ; but besides what
I heard from yourself, Mr. Booth told me — "
" Oh yes," answered Mrs. Ellison ; *' Mr. Booth, I
know, is a very good friend of mine. Indeed, I know
you better than to think it could be your own suspicion.
I am very much obliged to Mr. Booth, truly."
" Nay," cries Amelia, " the sergeant himself is in
fault ; for Mr. Booth, I am positive, only repeated what
he had from him."
"Impudent coxcomb!" cries Mrs. Ellison: "I shall
know how to keep such fellov/s at a proper distance for
the future. I will tell you, dear madam, all that hap-
pened. When I rose in the morning, I found the fellow
waiting in the entry ; and, as you had expressed some
regard for him as your foster brother, (nay, he is a very
genteel fellow, that I must own,) I scolded my maid for
not showing him into my little back room ; and I then
asked him to walk into the parlour. Could I have ima-
gined he would have construed such little civility into
an encouragement ?"
" Nay, I will have justice done to my poor brother too,"
said Amelia: "I myself have seen you give him much
greater encouragement than that."
" Well, perhaps I have," said Mrs. Ellison : " I have
been always too unguarded in my speech, and cannot
answer for all I have said." She then began to change
her note, and with an affected laugh turned all into ridi-
cule ; and soon afterward the two ladies separated, both
in apparent good-humour; and Amelia went about those
domestic offices, in which Mr. Booth found her engaged
at the end of the preceding chapter.
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 327
Chapter IV. — Containing a very extraordinary incident.
In the afternoon, Mr. Booth, with Amelia and her
children, went to refresh themselves in the Park. The
conversation now turned on what passed in the morn-
ing with Mrs. Ellison ; the latter part of the dialogue, I
mean, recorded in the last chapter. Amelia told her
husband, that Mrs. Ellison so strongly denied all inten-
tions to marry the sergeant, that she had convinced her
the poor fellow was under an error, and had mistaken a
little too much levity for serious encouragement ; and
concluded, by desiring Booth not to jest with her any
more on that subject.
Booth burst into a laugh at what his wife said. " My
dear creature," said he, " how easy is thy honesty and
simplicity to be imposed on ! how little dost thou guess
at the art and falsehood of women ! I knew a young
lady, who, against her father's consent, was married to
a brother officer of mine ; and as I often used to walk
with her, (for I knew her father intimately well,) she
would of her own accord take frequent occasions to rid-
icule and vilify her husband, (for so he was at the time,)
and expressed great wonder and indignation at the re-
port which she allowed to prevail, that she should con-
descend ever to look at such a fellow with any other
design than of laughing at and despising him. The
marriage afterward became publicly owned, and the
lady was reputably brought to bed ; since which I have
often seen her ; nor has she ever appeared to be in the
least ashamed of what she had formerly said, though,
indeed, I believe she hates me heartily for having heard
it."
" But for what reason," cries Amelia, " should she
deny a fact, when she must be so certain of our discov-
ering it, and that immediately V
" I cannot answer what end she may propose," said
Booth: "sometimes one would be almost persuaded
that there was a pleasure in lying itself. But this I am
certain, that I would believe the honest sergeant on his
bare word sooner than I would fifty Mrs. Ellisons on
oath. I am convinced he would not have said what he
did to me, without the strongest encouragement ; and I
think, after what we have been both witnesses to, it re-
228 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
quires no great confidence in his veracity to give him
an unlimited credit with regard to the lady's behaviour."
To this AmeUa made no reply; and they discoursed
of other matters during the remainder of a very pleasant
walk.
When they returned home, Amelia was surprised to
find an appearance of disorder in her apartment : several
of the trinkets which his lordship had given the children
lay about the room ; and a suit of her own clothes,
which she had left in her drawers, was now displayed
upon the bed.
She immediately summoned her little girl up stairs,
who, as she plainly perceived the moment she came up
with a candle, had half cried her eyes out ; for though
the girl had opened the door to them, as it was almost
dark, she had not taken any notice of this phenomenon
in her countenance.
The girl now fell down upon her knees, and cried,
" For Heaven's sake, madam, do not be angry with me.
Indeed, I was left alone in the house ; and hearing some-
body knock at the door, I opened it, I am sure thinking
no harm. I did not know but it might have been you,
or my master, or Madam EUison ; and immediately as I
did, the rogue burst in and ran directly up stairs, and
what he has robbed you of I cannot tell ; but I am sure
I could not help it, for he was a great swinging man,
with a pistol in each hand ; and if I had dared to call
out, to be sure he would have killed me. I am sure I
was never in such a fright in my born days, whereof I
am hardly come to myself yet. I believe he is some-
where about the house yet ; for I never saw him go
out."
Amelia discovered some little alarm at this narrative,
but much less than many other ladies would have shown :
fc- fright is, I believe, sometimes laid hold of as an op-
portunity of disclosing several charms pecuUar to that
occasion, and which, as Mr. Addison says of certain
virtues,
" Shun the day, and lie conceal'd
In the smooth seasons, and the calms of hfe."
Booth, having opened the window, and summoned in
two chairmen to his assistance, proceeded to search the
house ; but all to no purpose : the thief was flown,
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 229
though the poor girl, in her state of terror, had not seen
him escape.
But now a circumstance appeared which greatly sur-
prised both Booth and Amelia ; indeed, I believe it will
have the same effect upon the reader ; and this was, that
the thief had taken nothing with him. He had, indeed,
tumbled over all Booth's and Amelia's clothes, and the
children's toys ; but had left all behind him.
Amelia was scarce more pleased than astonished at
this discovery, and re-examined the girl, assuring her of
an absolute pardon if she confessed the truth, but griev-
ously threatening her if she was found guilty of the
least falsehood. " As for a thief, child," says she, " that
is certainly not true ; you have had somebody with you
to whom you have been showing the things ; therefore,
tell me plainly who it was."
The girl protested in the most solemn manner that
she knew not the person ; but as to some circumstances,
she began to vary a little from her first account, partic-
ularly as to the pistols ; concerning which, being strictly
examined by Booth, she at last cried, " To be sure, sir,
he must have had pistols about him." And instead of
persisting in his having rushed in upon her, she now
confessed that he had asked at the door for her master
and mistress ; and that at his desire she had shown him
up stairs, where he at first said he would stay till their
return home ; " But, indeed," cried she, " 1 thought no
harm, for he looked like a gentlemanlike sort of a man ;
and, indeed, so I thought he was for a good while,
whereof he sat down and behaved himself very civilly,
till he saw some of master's and miss's things upon the
chest of drawers ; whereof he cried, ' Heyday ! what's
here V and then he fell to tumbhng about the things like
any mad. Then I thinks, thinks I to myself, to be sure
he is a highwayman, whereof I did not dare to speak to
him ; for I knew Madam Ellison and her maid was gone
out, and what could such a poor girl as I do against a
great strong man 1 and besides, thinks I, to be sure he
has got pistols about him, though I cannot indeed (that
1 will not do for the world) take my Bible oath that I
saw any ; yet to be sure he would have soon pulled them
out and shot me dead if I had ventured to have said any-
thing to offend him."
" I know not what to make of this," cries Booth : " the
poor girl, I verily believe, speaks to the best of her
20
230 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
knowledge. A thief it could not be, for he has not taken
the least thing ; and it is plain he had the girFs watch in
his hand. If it had been a baihff, surely he would have
stayed till our return. I can conceive no other, from
the girl's account, than that it must have been some
madman."
" Oh, good sir," said the girl, "now you mention it, if
he was not a thief, to be sure he must have been a mad-
man ; for indeed he looked, and behaved himself too, very
much like a madman : for now 1 remember it, he talked
to himself, and said many strange kind of words that I
did not understand. Indeed, he looked altogether as I
have seen people in Bedlam. Besides, if he was not a
madman, w^hat good could it do him to throw the things
all about the room in such a manner 1 and he said some-
thing too about my master, just before he went down
stairs. I was in such a fright, I cannot remember par-
ticularly ; but I am sure they were very ill words ; he
said he would do for him, I am sure he said that ; and
other wicked, bad words too, if I could but think of
them."
" Upon my word," said Booth, " this is the most prob-
able conjecture ; but still I am puzzled to conceive who
it should be ; for 1 have no madman, to my knowledge,
of my acquaintance ; and it seems, as the girl says, he
asked for me." He then turned to the child, and asked
her if she was certain of the circumstance.
The poor maid, after a little hesitation, answered, " In-
deed, sir, I cannot be very positive ; for the fright he
threw me into afterward drove everything almost out of
my mind."
" Well, w^hatever he was," cries Amelia, " I am glad
the consequence is no worse ; but let this be a warning
to you, little Betty, and teach you to take more care for
the future. If ever you should be left alone in the house
again, be sure to let no person in without first looking
out at the window, and seeing who they are. I prom-
ised not to chide you any more on this occasion, and I
will keep my word ; but it is very plain you desired this
person to walk up into our apartment, which was very
wrong in our absence."
Betty was going to answer, but Amelia would not let
her, saying, "Don't attempt to excuse yourself; fori
mortally hate a har, and can forgive any fault sooner
than falsehood."
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 231
The poor girl then submitted ; and now Amelia, with
her assistance, began to replace all things in their order;
and little Emily, hugging her watch with great fondness,
declared she would never part with it any more.
Thus ended this odd adventure, not entirely to the
satisfaction of Booth ; for, besides his curiosity, which,
when thoroughly roused, is a very troublesome passion,
he had, as is, I believe, usual with all persons in his cir-
cumstances, several doubts and apprehensions of he
knew not what. Indeed, fear is never more uneasy
than when it does not certainly know its object ; for on
such occasions the mind is ever employed in raising a
thousand bugbears and phantoms, much more dreadful
than any realities ; and, like children when they tell
tales of hobgobhns, seems industrious in terrifying it-
self.
Chapter V. — Containing some matters not very unnatural.
Matters were scarce sooner reduced into order and
decency, than a violent knocking was heard at the door;
such indeed as would have persuaded any one, not ac-
customed to the sound, that the madman was returned
in the highest spring-tide of his fury.
Instead, however, of so disagreeable an appearance, a
very fine lady presently came into the room, no other,
indeed, than Mrs. James herself; for she was resolved
to show Amelia, by the speedy return of her visit, how
unjust all her accusations had been of any failure in the
duties of friendship ; she had moreover another reason
to accelerate this visit, and that was to congratulate her
friend on the event of the duel between Colonel Bath
and Mr. Booth.
The lady had so well profited by Mrs. Booth's re-
monstrance, that she had now no more of that stiffness
and formaUty which she had worn on a former occasion :
on the contrary, she now behaved with the utmost free-
dom and good-humour; and made herself so very agree-
able, that Amelia was highly pleased and delighted with
her company.
An incident happened during this visit, that may ap-
pear to some too inconsiderable in itself to be recorded ;
and yet, as it certainly produced a very strong conse-
232 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
quence in the mind of Mr. Booth, we cannot prevail on
ourselves to pass it by.
Little Emily, who was present in the room while Mrs.
James was there, as she stood near the lady, happened
to be playing with her watch, which she was so greatly
overjoyed had escaped safe from the madman. Mrs.
James, who expressed great fondness for the child, de-
sired to see the watch, which she commended as the
prettiest of the kind she had ever seen.
Amelia caught eager hold of this opportunity to
spread the praises of her benefactor. She presently ac-
quainted Mrs. James with the donor's name, and ran on
with great encomiums on his lordship's goodness, and
particularly on his generosity ; to which Mrs. James
answered, " Oh, certainly, madam, his lordship has uni-
versally the character of being extremely generous —
where he likes."
In uttering these words, she laid a very strong em-
phasis on the three last monosyllables, accompanying
them, at the same time, with a very sagacious look, a
very significant leer, and a flirt with her fan.
The greatest genius the world has ever produced ob-
serves, in one of his most excellent plays, that
" Trifles, light as air.
Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong
As proofs of holy writ."
That Mr. Booth began to be possessed by this worst
of fiends, admits, I think, no longer doubt; for at this
speech of Mrs. James, he immediately turned pale, and,
from a high degree of cheerfulness, was all on a sudden
struck dumb, so that he spoke not another word till
Mrs. James left the room.
The moment that lady drove from the door, Mrs. El-
lison came up stairs. She entered the room with a
laugh, and very plentifully rallied both Booth and Ameha
concerning the madman, of which she had received a
full account below stairs ; and at last asked Amelia if
she could not guess who it was ; but, without receiving
an answer, went on, saying, " For my own part, I fancy
it must be some lover of yours; some person that has
seen you, and so is run mad with love. Indeed, I
should not wonder if all mankind were to do the same.
La ! Mr. Booth, what makes you grave 1 why, you are
as melancholy as if you had been robbed in earnest.
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. S33
Upon my word, though, to be serious, it is a strange
story ; and, as the girl tells it, I know not what to make
of it. Perhaps it might be some rogue that intended to
rob the house, and his heart failed him ; yet even that
would be very extraordinary. What, did you lose
nothing, madam 1"
" Nothing at all," answered Amelia : " he did not even
take the child's watch."
" Well, captain," cries Mrs. Ellison, " I hope you will
take more care of the house to-morrow ; for your lady
and I shall leave you alone to the care of it. Here,
madam," said she, " here is a present from my lord to
us ; here are two tickets for the masquerade at Rane-
lagh. You will be so charmed with it ! It is the sweetest
of all diversions."
" May I be d — ned, madam," cries Booth, " if my wife
shall go thither,"
Mrs. Ellison started at these words, and, indeed, so did
Amelia ; for they were spoken with great vehemence.
At length, the former cried out, with an air of astonish-
ment, " Not let your lady go to Ranelagh, sir?"
" No, madam," cries Booth, " I will not let my wife
go to Ranelagh."
" You surprise me," cries Mrs. Ellison. " Sure you
are not in earnest ?"
" Indeed, madam," returned he, " I am seriously in
earnest ; and what is more, I am convinced she would,
of her own accord, refuse to go."
"Now, madam," said Mrs. Ellison, "you are to an-
swer for yourself; and I will for your husband, that, if
you have a desire to go, he will not refuse you."
" I hope, madam," answered Amelia, with great
gravity, " I shall never desire to go to any place con-
trary to Mr. Booth's inclinations."
*' Did ever mortal hear the hke 1" said Mrs. Ellison ;
"you are enough to spoil the best husband in the uni-
verse. Inclinations ! what, is a woman to be governed
then by her husband's inclinations, though they are
never so unreasonable ?"
" Pardon me, madam," said Amelia ; " I will not sup-
pose Mr. Booth's inclinations ever can be unreasonable.
I am very much obliged to you for the offer you have
made me, but I beg you will not mention it any more ;
for, after what Mr. Booth has declared, if Ranelagh was
a heaven upon earth, 1 would refuse to go to it."
20*
234 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
" I thank you, my dear," cries Booth ; " I do assure
you, you oblige me beyond my power of expression by
what you say ; but I will endeavour to show you, both
my sensibility of such goodness, and my lasting grati-
tude for it."
" And pray, sir," cries Mrs. Ellison, " what can be
your objection to your lady's going to a place which I
will venture to say is as reputable as any about town,
and which is frequented by the best company?"
" Pardon me, good Mrs. Ellison," said Booth : " as my
wife is so good to acquiesce without knowing my rea-
sons, I am not, 1 think, obliged to assign them to any
other person."
" Well," cries Mrs. Ellison, " if I had been told this,
I would not have believed it. What, refuse your lady
an innocent diversion, and that too when you have not
the pretence to say it would cost you a farthing 1"
" Why will you say any more on this subject, dear
madam]" cries Amelia: " all diversions are to me mat-
ters of such indifference, that the bare inclinations of
any one, for whom I have the least value, would at all
times turn the balance of mine. I am sure, then, after
what Mr. Booth has said — "
" My dear," cries he, taking her up hastily, " I sin-
cerely ask your pardon; I spoke inadvertently, and in a
passion : I never once thought of controlling you, nor
ever would. Nay, I said in the same breath you would
not go; and, upon my honour, I meant nothing more."
" My dear," said she, " you have no need of making
any apologj^ : 1 am not in the least offended, and am
convinced you will never deny me what I shall desire."
" Try him, try him, madam," cries Mrs. Ellison: "I
will be judged by all the women in ton-n, if it is possible
for a wife to ask her husband anything more reasonable.
You cannot conceive what a sweet, charming, elegant,
delicious place it is. Paradise itself can hardly be equal
to it."
" I beg you will excuse me, madam," said Amelia ;
" nay, I entreat you will ask me no more ; for be as-
sured I must and will refuse. Do let me desire you to
give the ticket to poor Mrs. Bennet. I believe it would
greatly oblige her."
"Pardon me, madam," said Mrs. Ellison: "if you
will not accept of it, 1 am not so distressed for want of
company as to go to such a public place with all sorts
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 235
of people, neither. I am always very glad to see Mrs.
Bennet at my own house, because I look upon her as a
very good sort of a woman ; but I don't choose to be
seen with such people in public places."
Amelia expressed some little indignation at this last
speech, which she declared to be entirely beyond her
comprehension ; and soon after Mrs. Ellison, finding all
her efforts to prevail on Amelia were ineffectual, took
her leave, giving Mr. Booth two or three sarcastical
words, and a much more sarcastical look at her depar-
ture.
Chapter VI, — A scene, in which some ladies will, possibly, think
Amelia's conduct exceptionable.
Booth and his wife being left alone, a solemn silence
prevailed during a few minutes. At last, Amelia, who
though a good, was yet a human creature, said to her
husband, " Pray, my dear, do inform me what could
put you into so great a passion when Mrs. Ellison first
offered me the ticket for this masquerade?"
"I had rather you would not ask me," said Booth:
" you have obliged me greatly in your ready acquies-
cence with my desire ; and you will add greatly to the
obligation by not inquiring the reason of it. This you
may depend upon, Amelia, that your good and happiness
are the great objects of all my wishes, and the end I
promise in all my actions. This view alone could tempt
me to refuse you anything, or to conceal anything from
you."
*' I will appeal to yourself," answered she, "whether
this be not using me too much hke a child, and whether
I can possibly help being a little offended at it."
" Not in the least," replied he ; "I use you only with
the tenderness of a friend. I would only endeavour to
conceal that from you, which I think would give you
uneasiness if you knew. These are called the pious
frauds of friendship."
" I detest all fraud," says she ; " and pious is too
good an epithet to be joined to so odious a word. You
have often, you know, tried these frauds with no better
effect than to tease and torment me. You cannot ima-
gine, my dear, but that I must have a violent desire to
236 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
know the reason of words, which, I own, I never ex-
pected to have heard ; and the more you have shown a
reluctance to tell me, the more eagerly 1 have longed to
know. Nor can this be called a vain curiosity ; since I
seem so much interested in this affair. If, after all this,
you still insist on keeping the secret, I will convince
you I am not ignorant of the duty of a wife, by my obe-
dience ; but I cannot help telling you, at the same time,
you will make me one of the most miserable of women."
"That is," cries he, "in other words, my dear Emily,
to say, I will be contented without the secret ; but I am
resolved to know it, nevertheless."
" Nay, if you say so," cries she, " I am convinced
you will tell me : positively, dear Billy, 1 must and will
know."
" Why, then, positively," says Booth, " I will tell
you : and I think I shall then show you, that however
well you may know the duty of a wife, I am not always
able to behave like a husband. In a word, then, my
dear, the secret is no more than this ; I am unwilling
you should receive any more presents from my lord."
" Mercy upon me !" cried she, with all the marks of
astonishment : " what ! a masquerade ticket !"
" Yes, my dear," cries he : " that is, perhaps, the very
worst and most dangerous of all : few men make pres-
ents of those ticke'ts to ladies, without intending to
meet them at the place. And what do we know of your
companion 1 To be sincere with you, I have not liked
her behaviour for some time. What might be the con-
sequence of going with such a woman to such a place,
to meet such a person, I tremble to think. And now,
my dear, 1 have told you my reason of refusing her offer
with some little vehemence, and, I think, I need explain
myself no farther."
" You need not, indeed, sir," answered she. " Good
Heavens ! did I ever expect to hear this ! I can appeal
to Heaven ; nay, I will appeal to yourself, Mr. Booth, if
I have ever done anything to deserve such a suspicion :
if ever any action of mine, nay, if ever any thought, had
stained the innocence of my soul, I could be contented."
" How cruelly do you mistake me !" said Booth :
" what suspicion have I ever shown V
" Can you ask it," answered she, " after what you
have just now declared]"
" If I have declared any suspicion of you," replied he ;
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 237
" or if ever I entertained a thought leading that way,
may the worst of evils that ever afflicted human nature
attend me. 1 know the pure innocence of that tender
bosom ; I do know it, my lovely angel, and adore it.
The snares which might be laid for that innocence were
alone the cause of my apprehension. I feared what a
wicked and voluptuous man, resolved to sacrifice every-
thing to the gratification of a sensual appetite with the
most delicious repast, might attempt. If ever I injured
the unspotted whitenessof thy virtue in my imagination,
may hell — "
" Do not terrify me," cries she, interrupting him,
*'with such imprecations. Oh, Mr. Booth! Mr. Booth!
you must well know that a woman's virtue is always
her sufficient guard. No husband, without suspecting
that, can suspect any danger from those snares you
mention : and why, if you are liable to take such things
into your head, may not your suspicions fall on me, as
well as on any other? for sure nothing was ever more
unjust, I will not say ungrateful, than the suspicions
which you have bestowed on his lordship. 1 do sol-
emnly declare, in all the times I have seen the poor
man, he has never once offered the least forwardness.
His behaviour has been polite indeed, but rather re-
markably distant than otherwise ; particularly when we
played at cards together. I don't remember he spoke
ten words to me all the evening ; and when I was at his
house, though he showed the greatest fondness imagin-
able to the children, he took so little notice of me, that
a vain woman would have been very little pleased with
him ! and if he gave them many presents, he never of-
fered me one. The first, indeed, which he ever offered
me, was that which you, in that kind manner, forced me
to refuse."
" All this may be only the effect of art," said Booth.
"I am convinced he does, nay, I am convinced he must
like you, and my good friend James, who perfectly well
knows the world, told me, that his lordship's charac-
ter was that of the most profuse in his pleasures with
women: nay, what said Mrs. James this very evening?
* His lordship is extremely generous — where he likes.' I
shall never forget the sneer with which she spoke these
last words."
" I am convinced they injure him," cries Amelia. " As
for Mrs. James, she was always given to be censorious ;
238 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
I remarked it in her long ago as her greatest fault:
and for the colonel, 1 believe he may find faults enough
of this kind in his own bosom, without searching after
them among his neighbours. I am sure he has the
most impudent look of all the men I know; and I sol-
emnly declare, the very last time he was here, he put
me out of countenance more than once."
" Colonel James," answered Booth, " may have his
faults very probably. I do not look upon him as a saint,
nor do I believe he desires I should ; but what interest
could he have in abusing this lord's character to me ?
or why should I question his truth, when he assured me
that my lord had never done an act of beneficence in his
life, but for the sake of some woman whom he lusted
after ?"
" Then I myself can confute him," replied Amelia ;
"for besides his services to you, which, for the future,
I shall wish to forget, and his kindness to my little
babes, how inconsistent is the character which James
gives of him, with his lordship's behaviour to his own
nephew and niece, whose extreme fondness of their
uncle sufficiently proclaims his goodness to them ! I
need not mention all that I have heard from Mrs. Elli-
son, every word of which I believe ; for 1 have great
reason to think, notwithstanding some little levity,
which, to give her her due, she sees and condemns in
herself, she is a very good sort of woman."
" Well, my dear," cries Booth, " I may have been de-
ceived, and I heartily hope I am so ; but in cases of
this nature, it is always good to be on the surest side ;
for, as Congreve says : —
' The wise too jealous are ; fools too secure.' "
Here Amelia burst into tears, upon which Booth im-
mediately caught her in his arms, and endeavoured to
comfort her. Passion, however, for a while obstructed
her speech, and at last she cried, " Oh, Mr. Booth, can I
bear to hear the word jealousy from your mouth ?"
" Why, my love,''' said Booth, " will you so fatally
misunderstand my meaning? how often shall I protest
that it is not of you, but of him that I was jealous ] If
you could look into my breast, and there read all the
most secret thoughts of my heart, you would not see
one faint idea to your dishonour."
" 1 don't misunderstand you, my dear," said she, " so
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 239
much as I am afraid you misunderstand yourself. What
is it you fear T you mention not force, but snares. Is
not this to confess, at least, that you have some doubt of
my understanding ] Do you then really imagine me so
weak as to be cheated of my virtue ] am I to be de-
ceived into an affection for a man, before I perceive the
least inward hint of my danger ? No, Mr. Booth, be-
lieve me, a woman must be a fool indeed, who can have
in earnest such an excuse for her actions. I have not,
I think, any very high opinion of my judgment ; but so
far I shall rely upon it, that no man breathing could
have any such designs as you have apprehended, with-
out my immediately seeing them; and howl should
then act, I hope my whole conduct to you has suffi-
ciently declared."
*' Well, my dear," cries Booth, " I beg you will men-
tion it no more ; if possible, forget it. I hope, nay, 1 be-
lieve, I have been in the wrong: pray forgive me."
" 1 will, I do forgive you, my dear," said she, " if for-
giveness be a proper word for one whom you have
rather made miserable than angry ; but let me entreat
you to banish for ever all such suspicions from your
mind. I hope Mrs. Ellison has not discovered the real
cause of your passion; but, poor woman, if she had, I
am convinced it would go no farther. Oh Heavens ! I
would not for the world it should reach his lordship's
ears. You would lose the best friend that ever man
had. Nay, I would not for his own sake, poor man !
for I really believe it would affect him greatly ; and I
must, I cannot help having an esteem for so much good-
ness ; an esteem which, by this dear hand," said she,
taking Booth's hand, and kissing it, " no man alive shall
ever obtain by making love to me."
Booth caught her in his arms, and tenderly embraced
her : after which, the reconciliation soon became com-
plete : and Booth, in the contemplation of his happiness,
entirely buried all his jealous thoughts.
Chapter VII.— A chapter in which there is much learning.
The next morning, while Booth was gone to take his
morning walk, Amelia went down into Mrs. Ellison's
apartment, where, though she was received with great
240 THE HISTORY OP AMELIA.
civility, yet she found that lady was not at all pleased
with Mr. Booth; and, by some hints which dropped
from her in conversation, Amelia very greatly appre-
hended that Mrs. Ellison had too much suspicion of her
husband's real uneasiness : for that lady declared very
openly, she could not help perceiving what sort of man
Mr. Booth was ; " and though I have the greatest re-
gard for you, madam, in the world," said she, " yet I
think myself in honour obliged not to impose on his
lordship, who, I know very well, has conceived his
greatest liking to the captain, on my telling him that he
was the best husband in the world."
Amelia's fears gave her much disturbance, and, when
her husband returned, she acquainted him with them ;
upon which occasion, as it was natural, she resumed a
little the topic of their former discourse ; nor could she
help casting, though in very gentle terms, some slight
blame on Booth, for having entertained a suspicion,
which, she said, might, in its consequence, very possi-
bly prove their ruin, and occasion the loss of his lord-
ship's friendship.
Booth became highly affected with what his wife said,
and the more, as he had just received a note from Col-
onel James, informing him that the colonel had heard
of a vacant company in the regiment which Booth had
mentioned to him, and that he had been with his lordship
about it, who had promised to use his utmost interest
to obtain him the command.
The poor man now expressed the utmost concern for
his yesterday's behaviour ; said he believed the devil
had taken possession of him ; and concluded with cry-
ing out, " Sure I was born, my dearest creature, to be
your torment !"
Amelia no sooner saw her husband's distress, than
she instantly forbore whatever might seem hkely to
aggravate it, and applied herself, with all her power, to
comfort him. " If you will give me leave to offer my
advice, my dearest soul," said she, " I think all might
yet be remedied. I think you know me too well, to
suspect that the desire of diversion should induce me to
mention what I am now going to propose ; and in that
confidence, I will ask you to let me accept my lord's
and Mrs. Ellison's offer, and go to the masquerade. No
matter how little while I stay there : if you desire it, I
will not be an hour from you. I can make a hundred
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 241
excuses to come home, or tell a real truth, and say, I
am tired of the place. The bare going will cure every-
thing."
Amelia had no sooner done speaking, than Booth im-
mediately approved her advice, and readily gave his
consent. He could not, however, help saying, that the
shorter her stay was there, the more agreeable it would
be to him ; " for you know, my dear," said he, " I would
never willingly be a moment out of your sight."
In the afternoon, Amelia sent to invite Mrs. Ellison
to a dish of tea, and Booth undertook to laugh off all
that had passed yesterday ; in which attempt the abun-
dant good-humour of that lady gave him great hopes of
success.
Mrs. Bennet came that afternoon to make a visit, and
as almost an hour v
entry of Mrs. Ellison.
Mr. Booth had hitherto rather disliked this young lady,
and had wondered at the pleasure which Amelia de-
clared she took in her company. This afternoon, how-
ever, he changed his opinion, and liked her almost as
much as his wife had done. She did, indeed, behave at
this time with more than ordinary gayety ; and good-hu-
mour gave a glow to her countenance that set off her
features, which were very pretty, to the best advantage,
and lessened the deadness that had usually appeared in
her complexion.
But, if Booth was now pleased with Mrs. Bennet,
Amelia was still more pleased with her than ever : for,
when their discourse turned on love, Amelia discovered
that her new friend had all the same sentiments on that
subject with herself. In the course of their conversa-
tion. Booth gave Mrs. Bennet a hint of wishing her a
good husband, upon which both the ladies declaimed
against second marriages with equal vehemence.
Upon this occasion, Booth and his wife discovered a
talent in their visitant, to which they had been before
entirely strangers, and for which they both greatly ad-
mired her ; and this was, that the lady was a good
scholar, in which, indeed, she had the advantage of poor
Amelia, whose reading was confined to English plays
and poetry ; besides which, I think, she had conversed
only with the divinity of the great and learned Dr. Bar-
row, and with the histories of the excellent Bishop
Burnet.
21 L
242 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
Amelia delivered herself on the subject of second
marriages with much eloquence and great good sense ;
but when Mrs. Bennet came to give her opinion, she
spoke in the following manner: " I shall not enter into
the question concerning the legality of bigamy: our
laws certainly allow it, and so 1 think does our religion.
We are now debating only on the decency of it ; and in
this light, I hold myself as strenuous an advocate against
it, as any Roman matron would have been in those ages
of the commonwealth when it was held to be infamous.
For my own part, how great a paradox soever my opin-
ion may seem, I solemnly declare, I see but little dif-
ference in having two husbands at one time, and at sev-
eral times ; and of this I am very confident, that the
same degree of love for a first husband, which preserves
a woman in the one case, will preserve her in the other.
There is one argument, which I scarce know how to
deliver before you, sir ; but — if a woman has lived with
her first husband without having children, I think it
unpardonable in her to carry barrenness into a second
family : on the contrary, if she has children by her first
husband, to give them a second father is still more un-
pardonable."
"But suppose, madam," cries Booth, interrupting her,
with a smile, " she should have had children by her first
husband, and have lost them."
" That is a case," answered she, with a sigh, " which
I did not desire to think of; and I must own it the most
favourable light in which a second marriage can be seen.
But the Scriptures, as Petrarch observes, rather suffer
them than commend them ; and St. Jerome speaks
against them with the utmost bitterness." " I remem-
ber," cries Booth, who was willing either to show his
learning, or to draw out the lady's, " a very wise law of
Charondas, the famous lawgiver of Thurium, by which
men, who married a second time, were removed from
all public councils ; for it was scarce reasonable to sup-
pose, that he who was so great a fool in his own fam-
ily, should be wise in public affairs : and though second
marriages were permitted among the Romans, yet they
were at the same time discouraged ; and those Roman
widows who refused them were held in high esteem,
and honoured with what Valerius Maximus calls the
Corona Pudicitise. In the noble family of Camilli,
i
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 243
there was not, in many ages, a single instance of this,
which Martial calls adultery : —
' Quae toties nubit, non nubit ; adultera lege est.' "
" True, sir," says Mrs. Bennet ; " and Virgil calls this
a violation of chastity, and makes Dido speak of it with
the utmost detestation : —
' Sed mihi vel tellus optem prius ima dehiscat,
Vel pater omnipotens adigat me fulmine ad umbras,
Pallentes umbras Erebi, noctemque profundam,
Ante, Pudor, quam te violo, aut tua jura resolvo.
Ille meos, primus qui me sibi junxit, amores
Abstulit : ille habeat secum, servetque sepulcro.' "
She repeated these lines with so strong an emphasis,
that she almost frightened Amelia out of her wits, and
not a little staggered Booth, who was himself no con-
temptible scholar. He expressed great admiration of the
lady's learning; upon which she said it was all the for-
tune given her by her father, and all the dower left her
by her husband ; " and sometimes," said she, " I am in-
clined to think I enjoy more pleasure from it than if
they had bestowed on me what the world would, in gen-
eral, call more valuable." She then took occasion, from
the surprise which Booth had affected to conceive at
her repeating Latin with so good a grace, to comment
on that great absurdity (for so she termed it) of exclu-
ding women from learning ; for which they were equally
qualified with the men, and in which so many had made
so notable a proficiency ; for a proof of which, she
mentioned Madame Dacier, and many others.
Though both Booth and Amelia outwardly concurred
with her sentiments, it may be a question whether they
did not consent rather out of complaisance, than from
their real judgment.
Chapter VIII. — Containing some unaccountable behaviour in Mrs.
Ellison.
Mrs. Ellison made her entrance at the end of the pre-
ceding discourse. At her first appearance she put on an
unusual degree of formality and reserve ; but when
Amelia had acquainted her that she designed to accept
the favour intended her, she soon began to alter the
gravity of her muscles, and presently fell in with that
L3
244 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
ridicule which Booth thought proper to throw on his yes-
terday's behaviour.
The conversation now became very lively and pleas-
ant, in which Booth, having mentioned the discourse that
passed in the last chapter, and having greatly co.mpli-
mented Mrs. Bennet's speech on that occasion, Mrs. El-
lison, who was as strenuous an advocate on the other
side, began to rally that lady extremely, declaring it was
a certain sign she intended to marry again soon. " Mar-
ried ladies," cried she, " I believe, sometimes think them-
selves in earnest in such declarations, though they are
oftener perhaps meant as compliments to their husbands ;
but when widows exclaim loudly against second mar-
riages, I would always lay a wager, that the man, if not
the wedding-day, is absolutely fixed on."
Mrs. Bennet made very Uttle answer to this sarcasm.
Indeed, she had scarce opened her lips from the time of
Mrs. Ellison's coming into the room, and had grown
particularly grave at the mention of the masquerade.
Amelia imputed this to her being left out of the party, a
matter which is often no small mortification to human
pride ; and in a whisper asked Mrs. Ellison if she could
not procure a third ticket, to which she received an abso-
lute negative.
During the whole time of Mrs. Bennet's stay, which
was above an hour afterward, she remained perfectly
silent, and looked extremely melancholy. This made
Amelia very uneasy, as she concluded she had guessed
the cause of her vexation ; in which opinion she was the
more confirmed, from certain looks of no very pleasant
kind which Mrs. Bennet now and then cast on Mrs. El-
lison, and the more than ordinary concern that appeared
in the former lady's countenance whenever the masquer-
ade was mentioned, and which, unfortunately, was the
principal topic of their discourse ; for Mrs. Ellison gave
a very elaborate description of the extreme beauty of the
place, and elegance of the diversion.
When Mrs. Bennet was departed, Amelia could not
help again soliciting Mrs. Ellison for another ticket, de-
claring she was certain Mrs. Bennet had a great incli-
nation to go with them ; but Mrs. Ellison again excused
herself from asking it of his lordship. " Besides, mad-
am," says she, " if I would go thither with Mrs. Bennet,
which I own to you I don't choose, as she is a person
whom nobody knows, I very much doubt whether she
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 245
herself would like it ; for she is a woman of a very unac-
countable turn. All her delight lies in books ; and, as
for public diversions, I have heard her often declare her
abhorrence of them."
" What then," said Amelia, " could occasion all that
gravity from the moment the masquerade was men-
tioned."
" As to that," answered the other, " there is no guess-
ing. You have seen her altogether as grave before now.
She has had these fits of gravity at times ever since the
death of her husband."
" Poor creature !" cries Amelia : " I heartily pity her ;
for she must certainly suffer a great deal on these occa-
sions. I declare I have taken a strange fancy to her."
" Perhaps you would not like her so well, if you knew
her thoroughly," answered Mrs. Ellison : " she is, upon
the whole, but of a whimsical temper; and, if you will
take my opinion, you should not cultivate too much inti-
macy with her. I know you will never mention what I
say ; but she is like some pictures, which please best at
a distance."
Amelia did not seem to agree with these sentiments,
and she greatly importuned Mrs. Ellison to be more ex-
plicit, but to no purpose : she continued to give only dark
hints to Mrs. Bennet's disadvantage ; and, if ever she let
drop something a little too liarsh, she failed not imme-
diately to contradict herself, by throwing some gentle
commendations into the other scale ; so that her con-
duct appeared utterly unaccountable to Amelia; and,
upon the whole, she knew not whether to conclude Mrs.
Ellison to be a friend or an enemy to Mrs. Bennet.
During this latter conversation. Booth was not in the
room; for he had been summoned down stairs by the
sergeant, who came to him with news from Murphy,
whom he had met that evening, and who assured the
sergeant, that if he was desirous of recovering the debt
which he had before pretended to have on Booth, he
might shortly have an opportunity ; for that there was
to be a very strong petition to the board the next time
they sat. Murphy said farther, that he need not fear
having his money ; for that, to his certain knowledge,
the captain had several things of great value, and even
his children had gold watches.
This greatly alarmed Booth, and still more, when the
sergeant reported to him from Murphy, that all these
21*
246 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
things had been seen in his possession within a day last
past. He now plainly perceived, as he thought, that
Murphy himself, or one of his emissaries, had been the
supposed madman ; and he now very well accounted to
himself, in his own mind, for all that had happened ; con-
ceiving that the design was to examine into the state of
his effects, and to try whether it was worth his creditors'
while to plunder him by law.
At his return to his apartment, he communicated what
he had heard to Amelia and Mrs. Ellison, not disguising
his apprehensions of the enemy's intentions ; but Mrs.
Ellison endeavoured to laugh him out of his fears, call-
ing him faint-hearted, and assuring him he might depend
on her lawyer. " Till you hear from him," said she,
" you may rest entirely contented ; for, take my word
for it, no danger can happen to you, of which you will
not be timely apprized by him : and as for the fellow
that had the impudence to come into your room, if he
was sent on such an errand as you mention, I heartily
wish I had been at home ; I would have secured him
safe with a constable, and have carried him directly be-
fore Justice Thrasher. I know the justice is an enemy
to bailiffs, on his own account."
This heartening speech a little roused the courage of
Booth, and somewhat comforted Amelia, though the
spirits of both had been too much hurried to suffer them
either to give or receive much entertainment that even-
ing; which Mrs. Ellison perceiving, soon took her leave,
and left this unhappy couple to seek relief from sleep,
.that powerful friend to the distressed, though, like other
powerful friends, he is not always ready to give his as-
sistance to those who want it most.
Chapter IX. — Containing a very strange incident.
When the husband and wife were alone, they again
talked over the news which the sergeant had brought ;
on which occasion, Amelia did all she could to conceal
her own fears, and to quiet those of her husband. At
last she turned the conversation to another subject,
and poor Mrs. Bennet was brought on the carpet. " I
should be sorry," cries Amelia, " to find I had con-
ceived an affection for a bad woman ; and yet I begin
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 247
to fear Mrs. Ellison knows somethings of her more
than she cares to discover; why else should she be
unwilling to be seen with her in public ? Besides, I
have observed that Mrs. Ellison has been always back-
ward to introduce her to me, nor would ever bring her
to my apartment, though I have often desired her. Nay,
she has given me frequent hints not to cultivate the
acquaintance. What do you think, my dear? I should
be very sorry to contract an intimacy with a wicked
person."
" Nay, my dear," cries Booth, « I know no more of
her, nor indeed hardly so much as yourself: but this I
think; that if Mrs. Ellison knows any reason why she
should not have introduced Mrs. Bennet into your com-
pany, she was very much in the wrong in introducing
her into it."
In discourses of this kind they passed the remainder
of the evening. In the morning Booth rose early, and,
going down stairs, received from little Betty a sealed
note, which contained the following words : —
" Beware, beware, beware,
For I apprehend a dreadful snare
Is laid for virtuous innocence,
Under a friend's false pretence."
Booth immediately inquired of the girl who brought
this note ; and was told it came by a chairman, who,
having delivered it, departed without saying a word.
He was extremely staggered at what he read, and
presently referred the advice to the same affair on
which he had received those hints from Atkinson the
preceding evening; but, when he came to consider the
words more maturely, he could not so well reconcile
the last two lines of this poetical epistle, if it may be
so called, with any danger which the law gave him
reason to apprehend. Mr. Murphy and his gang could
not well be said to attack either his innocence or virtue,
nor did they attack him under any colour or pretence
of friendship.
After much deliberation on this matter, a very strange
suspicion came into his head; and this was, that he
was betrayed by Mrs. Ellison. He had for some time
conceived no very high opinion of that good gentle-
woman, and he now began to suspect that she was
bribed to betray him. By this means he thought he
could best account for the strange appearance of the
248 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
supposed madman. And when this conceit once had
birth in his mind, several circumstances nourished and
improved it: among these, were her jocose behaviour
and raillery on that occasion, and her attempt to ridicule
his fears from the message which the sergeant had
brought him.
This suspicion was indeed preposterous, and not at
all warranted by, or even consistent with, the character
and whole behaviour of Mrs. Ellison ; but it was the
only one which at that time suggested itself to his mind ;
and, however blameable it might be, it was certainly
not unnatural in him to entertain it ; for so great a tor-
ment is anxiety to the human mind, that we always en-
deavour to relieve ourselves from it, by guesses, how-
ever doubtful or uncertain : on all which occasions,
dislike and hatred are the surest guides to lead our sus-
picion to its object.
When Amelia rose to breakfast. Booth produced
the note which he had received, saying, "My dear,
you have so often blamed me for keeping secrets from
you, and I have so often, indeed, endeavoured to con-
ceal secrets of this kind from you with such ill success,
that I think I shall never more attempt it." Amelia
read the letter hastily, and seemed not a little discom-
posed; then turning to Booth, with a very disconso-
late countenance, she said, " Sure fortune takes a de-
light in terrifying us! what can be the meaning of
this V Then, fixing her eyes attentively on the paper,
she perused it for some time, till Booth cried, " How
is it possible, my Emily, you can read such stuff pa-
tiently 1 the verses are certainly as bad as ever were
written." " I was trying, my dear," answered she, " to
recollect the hand ; for I will take my oath I have
seen it before, and that very lately;" and suddenly
she cried out with great emotion, " I remember it per-
fectly now: it is Mrs. Bennet's hand. I\Irs. Ellison
showed me a letter from her but a day or two ago.
It is a very remarkable hand, and I am positive it is
hers."
" If it be hers," cries Booth, " what can she possibly
mean by the latter part of her caution 1 sure Mrs. Elh-
son has no intention to betray us."
" I know not what she means," answered Amelia ;
"but I am resolved to know immediately, for I am cer-
tain of the hand. By the greatest luck in the world, she
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 249
told me yesterday where her lodgings were, when she
pressed me exceedingly to come and see her. She lives
but a very few doors from us, and I will go to her this
moment."
Booth made not the least objection to his wife's design.
His curiosity was, indeed, as great as hers, and so was
his impatience to satisfy it, though he mentioned not
this his impatience to Amelia ; and perhaps it had been
well for him if he had.
Amelia, therefore, presently equipped herself in her
walking-dress ; and, leaving her children to the care of
her husband, made all passible haste to Mrs. Bemiet's
iodgings.
Amelia waited near five minutes at Mrs. Bennetts
door before any one came to open it; at length a maid-
servant appeared, who, being asked if Mrs. Bennet was
at home, answered, with some confusion in her counte-
iiance, that she did not know : " but, madam," says she,
**' if you will send up your name, I will go and see."
Amelia then told her name; and the wench, after stay-
ing a considerable time, returned and acquainted her
that Mrs. Bennet was at home. She was then ushered
into a parlour, and told that the lady would wait on her
presently.
In this .parlour Amelia cooled her heels, as the phrase
is, near a quarter of an hour. She seemed, indeed, at
this time, in the miserable situation of one of those poor
wretches, who make their morning visits to the great,
to solicit favours, or perhaps to solicit the payment of a
debt ; for both are alike treated as beggars, and the lat-
ter sometimes considered as the more troublesome beg-
gars of the two.
During her stay here, Amelia observed the house to
be in great confusion ; a great bustle was heard above
stairs, and the maid ran up and down several times in a
great hurry.
At length Mrs. Bennet herself came in. She was
greatly disordered in her looks, and had, as the women
call it, huddled on her clothes in much haste ; for, in
truth, she was in bed when Amelia first came. Of this
fact she informed her, as the only apology she could
make for having caused her to wait so long for her
company.
Amelia very readily accepted her apology ; but asked
her, with a smile, if these early hours were usual with
L 3
250 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
her. Mrs. Bennet turned as red as scarlet at the ques-
tion, and answered, " No, indeed, dear madam ; I am,
for the most part, a very early riser ; but I happened
accidentally to sit up very late last night. I am sure I
had little expectation of your intending me such a favour
this morning."
Amelia, looking very steadfastly at her, said, " Is it
possible, madam, you should think such a note as this
would raise no curiosity in me?" She then gave her
the note, asking her if she did not know the hand.
Mrs. Bennet appeared in the utmost surprise and con-
fusion at this instant. Indeed, if Amelia had conceived
but the slightest suspicion before, the behaviour of the
lady would have been a sufficient confirmation to her of
the truth. She waited not, therefore, for an answer,
which, indeed, the other seemed in no haste to give ;
but conjured her, in the most earnest manner, to explain
to her the meaning of so extraordinary an act of friend-
ship ; " for so," said she, " I esteem it, being convinced
you must have sufficient reason for the warning you
have given me."
Mrs. Bennet, after some hesitation, answered, " I need
not, I believe, tell you how much I am surprised at what
you have shown me, and the chief reason of my surprise
is how you came to discover my hand. Sure, madam,
you have not shown it to Mrs. Ellison V
Amelia declared she had not, but desired she would
question her no farther. " What signifies how I discov-
ered it, since your hand it certainly is 1"
" I own it is," cries Mrs. Bennet, recovering her spir-
its ; " and since you have not shown it to that woman,
I am satisfied. I begin to guess now whence you might
have your information : but no matter ; I wish I had
never done anything of which I ought to be more
ashamed. No one can, I think, justly accuse me of a
crime on that account; and, I thank Heaven, my shame
will never be directed by the false opinion of the world.
Perhaps it was wrong to show my letter ; but when I
consider all circumstances, I can forgive it."
" Since you have guessed the truth," said Amelia, "I
am not obliged to deny it. She indeed showed me your
letter ; but I am sure you have not the least reason to
be ashamed of it. On the contrary, your behaviour on
so melancholy an occasion was highly praiseworthy;
and your bearing up under such afflictions as the loss of
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 251
a husband in so dreadful a situation, was truly great and
heroical."
" So Mrs. Ellison then has shown you my letter ?"
cries Mrs. Bennet, eagerly.
" Why, did you not guess it yourself ?" answered
Amelia ; " otherwise I am sure I have betrayed my hon-
our in mentioning it. I hope you have not drawn me
inadvertently into any breach of my promise. Did you
not assert, and that with an absolute certainty, that you
knew she had shown me your letter, and that you was
not angry with her for so doing V
"I am so confused," replied Mrs. Bennet, "that I
scarce know what I say : yes, yes, I remember I did
say so : 1 wish I had no greater reason to be angry with
her than that."
" For Heaven's sake," cries Amelia, " do not delay
my request any longer. What you say now greatly in-
creases my curiosity ; and my mind will be on the rack
till you discover your whole meaning ; for I am more
and more convinced that something of the utmost im-
portance was the purport of your message."
" Of the utmost importance, indeed," cries Mrs. Ben-
net: "at least, you will own my apprehensions were
sufficiently well founded. Oh, gracious Heaven ! how
happy shall I think myself if I should have proved your
preservation ! I will, indeed, explain my meaning ; but
in order to disclose all my fears in their just colours, I
must unfold my whole history to you. Can you have
patience, madam, to listen to the story of one of the
most unfortunate of women V
Amelia assured her of the highest attention; and Mrs.
Bennet soon after began to relate what is written in the
seventh book of this history.
BOOK VII.
Chapter I. — A short chapter, and consequently requiring no'preface.
Mrs. Bennet having fastened the door, and both the
ladies having taken their places, she once or twice offered
to speak, when passion stopped her utterance : and after
252 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
a minute's silence, she burst into a flood of tears : upon
which, Amelia, expressing the utmost tenderness for
her, as well by her look as by her accent, cried, " What
can be the reason, dear madam, of all this emotion V —
*' Oh, Mrs. Booth !" answered she, " 1 find 1 have under-
taken what I am not able to perform. You would not
wonder at my emotion, if you knew you had an adul-
teress and a murderer now standing before you."
Amelia turned pale as death at these words ; which
Mrs. Bennet observing, collected ail the force she was
able ; and, a little composing her countenance, cried,
"1 see, madam, I have terrified you with such dreadful
words ; but I hope you will not think me guilty of these
crimes in the blackest degree." " Guilty ?" cries Ame-
lia : "'oh heavens!" " 1 believe indeed your candour,"
continued Mrs. Bonnet, " will be readier to acquit me
than I am to acquit myself. Indiscretion, at least, the
highest, most unpardonable indiscretion, 1 shall always
lay to my own charge ; and when I reflect on the fatal
consequences, I can never, never forgive myself." Here
she again began to lament in so bitter a manner, that
Amelia endeavoured, as much as she could, (for she was
herself greatly shocked,) to sooth and comfort her ;
telling her that if indiscretion was her highest crime,
the unhappy consequences made her rather an unfor-
tunate than a guilty person ; and concluded by saying,
*' Indeed, madam, you have raised my curiosity to the
highest pitch, and I beg you will proceed with your
story."
Mrs. Bennet then seemed a second time going to be-
gin her relation, when she cried out, " I would, if possi-
ble, tire you with no more of my unfortunate life than
just with that part which leads to a catastrophe, in which
1 think you may yourself be interested ; but I protest I
am at a loss where to begin."
"Begin wherever you please, dear madam," cries
Amelia ; " but I beg you will consider my impatience."
— " I do consider it," answered Mrs. Bennet ; " and
therefore would begin with that part of my story which
leads directly to what concerns yourself; for how, in-
deed, should my life produce anything worthy your
notice ?" " Do not say so, madam," cries Amelia : " I
assure you I have long suspected there were some very
remarkable incidents in your life, and have only wanted
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 2591
an opportunity to impart to you my desire of hearing
them : I beg therefore you would make no more apolo*^
gies." "I will not, madam," cries Mrs. Bennet, "and
yet I would avoid anything trivial ; though, indeed, in
stories of distress, especially where love is concerned,
many little incidents may appear trivial to those who
have never felt the passion, which to delicate minds are
the most interesting part of the whole." *' Nay, but,
dear madam," cries Amelia, " this is all preface."
" Well, madam," answered Mrs, Bennet, *' I will con-
sider your impatience." She then rallied all her spirits
in the best manner she could, and began as is written in
the next chapter.
And here, possibly, the reader will blame Mrs. Bennet
for taking her story so far back, and relating so much
of her life in which Amelia had no concern ; but, in
truth, she was desirous of inculcating a good opinion
of herself, from recounting those transactions where
her conduct was unexceptionable, before she came to
the more dangerous and suspicious part of her character.
This I really suppose to have been her intention ; for, to
sacrifice the time and patience of Amelia, at such a
season, to the mere love of talking of herself, would
have been as unpardonable in her, as the bearing it was
in Amelia a proof of the most perfect good-breeding.
Chapter II. — The beginning of Mrs. Bennet's history
*' I WAS the younger of two daughters of a clergyman
in Essex ; of one, in whose praise, if I should indulge
my fond heart in speaking, I think my invention could
not outgo the reality. He was indeed well worthy of
the cloth he wore; and that, 1 think, is the highest
character a man can obtain.
" During the first part of my life, even till I reached
my sixteenth year, I can recollect nothing to relate to
you. All was one long serene day, in looking back upon
which, as when we cast our eyes on a calm sea, no ob-
ject arises to my view : all appears one scene of happi-
ness and tranquillity.
" On the day, then, when I became sixteen )'ears old,
must I begin my history ; for on that day I first tasted
the bitterness of sorrow.
22
254 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
" My father, besides those prescribed by our reli^on,
kept five festivals every year : these were on his wed-
ding-day, and on the birthday of each of his httle
family; on these occasions he used to invite two or
three neighbours to his house, and to indulge himself, as
he said, in great excess ; for so he called drinking a pint
of very small punch ; and, indeed, it might appear ex-
cess to one who on other days rarely tasted any liquor
stronger than small beer.
" Upon my unfortunate birthday, then, when we were
all in a high degree of mirth, my mother having left the
room after dinner, and staying away pretty long, my
father sent me to see for her. I went according to his
orders; but though I searched the whole house, and
called after her without doors, I could neither see nor
hear her» I was a little alarmed at this, though far from
suspecting any great mischief had befallen her; and ran
back to acquaint my father, who answered coolly, (for he
was a man of the calmest temper,) ' Very well, my dear :
I suppose she is not gone far, and will be here imme-
diately.' Half an hour or more passed after this, when^
she not returning, my father himself expressed some sur-
prise at her stay ; declaring, it must be some matter of
importance which could detain her at that time from her
company. His surprise now increased ever}- minute ; and
he began to grow uneasy, and to show sufficient symptoms
in his countenance of what he felt within. He then
despatched the servant-maid to inquire after her mistress
in the parish, but waited not her return ; for she was
scarce gone out of doors, before he begged leave of his
guests to go himself on the same errand. The company
now all broke up, and attended my father, all endeav-
ouring to give him hopes that no mischief had hap-
pened; they searched the whole parish, but in vain ; they
could neither see my mother, nor hear any news of her.
My father returned home in a state little short of dis-
traction. His friends in vain attempted to administer
either advice or comfort ; he threw himself on the floor
in the most bitter agonies of despair.
" While he lay in this condition, my sister and my-
self lying by him, all equally, 1 believe, and completely
miserable, our old servant-maid came into the room,
and cried out, her mind misgave her that she knew
"Where her mistress was. Upon these words my father
sprang from the floor, and asked her eagerly, ' Where V
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 255
But, oh, Mrs. Booth ! how can I describe the particulars
of a scene to you, the remembrance of which chills
my blood with horror, and which the agonies of my
mind, when it passed, made all a scene of confusion !
The fact then in short was this : my mother, who was a
most indulgent mistress to one servant, which was all
we kept, was nnwiUing, I suppose, to disturb her at her
dinner; and therefore went herself to fill her tea-kettle
at a well, into which, stretching herself too far, as we
imagine, the water then being very low, she fell with
the tea-kettle in her hand. The missing this gave the
poor old wretch the first hint of her suspicion, which,
upon examination, was found to be too well grounded.
" What we ail suflTered on this occasion may more
easily be felt than described." " It may, indeed," an-
swered Amelia ; '• and I am so sensible of it, that, unless
you have a mind to see me faint before your face, I
beg you will order me something : a glass of water, if
you please." Mrs. Bennet immediately complied with
her friend's request : a glass of water was brought, and
some hartshorn drops infused into it; which Amelia
having drunk off, declared she found herself much better ;
and. then Mrs. Bennet proceeded thus : —
*' I will not dwell on a scene which I see has already
so much affected your tender heart, and which is as
disagreeable to me to relate as it can be to you to hear.
I will therefore only mention to you the behaviour of
my father on this occasion, which was indeed becoming
a philosopher and a Christian divine. On the day after
my mother's funeral, he sent for my sister and myself
into his room ; where, after many caresses, and every
demonstration of fatherly tenderness, as well in silence
as in words, he began to exhort us to bear with patience
the great calamity that had befallen us ; saying, that ' as
every human accident, how terrible soever, must hap-
pen to us by divine permission at least, a dtie sense
of our duty to our great Creator must teach us an abso-
lute submission to his will. Not only religion, but com-
mon sense must teach us this ; for, oh, my dear children,'
cries he, * how vain is all resistance, all repining ! Could
tears wash back again my angel from the grave, I should
drain all the juices of my body through my eyes ; but
oh, could we fill up that cursed well with our tears,
iiow fruitless would be all our sorrow I' I think I repeat
you his very words ; for the impression they made on
256 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
me is never to be obliterated. He then proceeded to
comfort us with the cheerful thought that the loss was
entirely our own, and that my mother was greatly a
gainer by the accident which we lamented. ' I have a
wife,' cries he, ' my children, and you have a mother
now among the heavenly choir ; how selfish therefore
is all our grief ! how cruel to her are all our wishes !' In
this manner he talked to us near half an hour, though I
must frankly own to you, his arguments had not the
immediate good effect on us which they deserved, for
we retired from him very little the better for his exhor-
tations : however, they became every day more and
more forcible upon our recollection ; indeed, they were
greatly strengthened by his example : for in this, as in
all other instances, he practised the doctrines which he
taught. From this day he never mentioned my mother
more, and soon after recovered his usual cheerfulness
in pulDlic ; though I have reason to think he paid many
a bitter sigh, in private, to that remembrance, which
neither philosophy nor Christianity could expunge.
" My father's advice, enforced by his example, to-
gether with the kindness of some of our friends, assisted
by that ablest of all the mental physicians, Time, in a
few months pretty well restored my tranquillity, when
fortune made a second attack on my quiet. My sister,
whom I dearly loved, and who as warmly returned my
affection, had fallen into an ill state of health some time
before the fatal accident which I have related. She was
indeed at that time so much better, that we had great
hopes of her perfect recovery ; but the disorders of her
mind on that dreadful occasion so affected her body, that
she presently relapsed to her former declining state, and
thence grew continually worse and worse, till, after a
decay of near seven months, she followed my poor
mother to the grave.
" I will not tire you, dear madam, with repetitions of
grief; I will only mention two observations which have
occurred to me from reflections on the two losses I have
mentioned. The first is, that a mind once violently hurt,
grov/s, as it were, callous to any future impressions of
grief, and is never capable of feeling the same pangs a
second time. The other observation is, that the arrows
of fortune, as well as all others, derive their force from
the velocity with which they are discharged j for when
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. S57
they approach you by slow and perceptible degrees, they
have but very little power to do you mischief.
" The truth of these observations I experienced, not
only in my own heart, but in the behaviour of my father,
whose philosophy seemed to gain a complete triumph
over this latter calamity.
" Our family was now reduced to two ; and my father
grew extremely fond of me, as if he had now conferred
an entire stock of affection on me, that had before been
divided. His words, indeed, testified no less, for he
daily called me his only darling, his whole comfort, his
all. He committed the whole charge of his house to
my care, and gave me the name of his tittle house-
keeper; an appellation of which I was then as proud
as any minister of state can be of his titles. But though
I was very industrious in the discharge of my occupa-
tion, I did not, however, neglect my studies, in which I
had made so great a proficiency, that I was become a
pretty good mistress of the Latin language, and had
made some progress in the Greek. I believe, madam, I
have formerly acquainted you, that learning was the
chief estate I inherited of my father, in which he had
instructed me from my earliest youth.
" The kindness of this good man had, at length, wiped
oflf the remembrance of all losses ; and I, during two
years, led a life of great tranquillity, I think I might
almost say of perfect happiness.
" I was now in the nineteenth year of my age, when
my father's good fortune removed us from the county
of Essex into Hampshire, where a living was conferred
on him, by one of his old schoolfellows, of twice the
value of what he was before possessed of.
" His predecessor in this new living had died in very
indifferent circumstances, and had left behind him a
widow with two small children : my father, therefore,
who, with great economy, had a most generous soul,
bought the whole furniture of the parsonage-house at a
very high price : some of it, indeed, he would have
wanted ; for though our little habitation in Essex was
most completely furnished, yet it bore no proportion to
the largeness of that house in which he was now to
dwell.
" His motive, however, to the purchase was, I am
convinced, solely generosity, which appeared sufficient-
ly by the price he gave, and may be farther enforced by
22*
258 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
the kindness he showed the widow in another instance ;
for he assigned her an apartment for the use of herself
and her httle family, which, he told her, she was wel-
come to enjoy as long as it suited her convenience.
"As this widow was very young, and generally thought
to be tolerably pretty, though I own she had a cast with
her eyes which 1 never liked, my father, you may sup-
pose, acted from a less noble principle than 1 have hint-
ed ; but 1 must in justice acquit him : for these kind
offers were made her before ever he had seen her face ;
and I have the greatest reason to think, that for a long
time after he had seen her, he beheld her with much in-
difference.
" This act of my father's gave me, when 1 first heard
it, great satisfaction; for, 1 may at least, with the mod-
esty of the ancient philosophers, call myself a lover of
generosity; but, when I became acquainted with the
widow, 1 was still more delighted with what my father
had done ; for though I could not agree with those who
thought her a consummate beauty, I must allow that
she was very fully possessed of the power of making
herself agreeable ; and this power she exerted with so
much success, with such indefatigable industry to oblige,
that within three months I became in the highest man-r
ner pleased with my new acquaintance, and had con-
tracted the most sincerft friendship for her.
" But if I was so pleased with the widow, my father
was by this time enamoured of her. She had, indeed,
by the most artful conduct in the world, so insinuated
herself into his favour, so entirely infatuated him, that
he never showed the least marks of cheerfulness in her
absence, and could, in truth, scarce bear that she should
be out of his sight.
" She had managed this matter so well, (oh, she is
the most artful of women !) that my father's heart was
gone before I ever suspected it was in danger. The
discovery, you may easily believe, madam, was not
pleasing. The name of a mother-in-law sounded dread-
ful in my ears; nor could 1 bear the thought of parting
again with a share in those dear affections, of which 1
had purchased the whole by the loss of a beloved mother
and sister.
" In the first hurry and disorder of my mind on this
occasion, \ committed a crime of the highest kind against
all the laws of prudence and discretion: I took the
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 259
young lady herself very roundly to task ; treated her
designs on my father as little better than a design to
commit a theft; atid, in my passion, I believe, said, she
might be ashamed to think of marrying a man old
enough to be her grandfather ; for so in reality he al-
most was.
" The lady, on this occasion, acted finely the part of
a hypocrite. She affected to be liighly affronted at my
unjust suspicions, as she called them ; and proceeded to
such asseverations of her innocence, that she almost
brought me to discredit the evidence of my own eyes
and ears.
" My father, however, acted much more honestly ;
for he fell the next day into a more violent passion with
me than I had ever seen him in before, and asked me
whether I intended to return his paternal fondness by
assumiug the right of controlling his inclinations ; with
more of the like kind, which fully convinced me what
had passed between him and the lady, and how little I
had injured her in my suspicions.
" Hitherto, I frankly own, my aversion to this match
had been principally on my own account ; for I had no
ill opinion of the woman, though I thought neither her
circumstances nor my father's age promised any kind
of felicity from such a union : but now I learned some
particulars, which, had not our quarrel become public in
the parish, I should perhaps have never known. In
short, I was informed, that this gentle, obhging crea-
ture, as she had at first appeared to me, had the spirit of
a tigress, and was by many believed to have broken the
heart of her first husband.
" The truth of this matter being confirmed to me upon
examination, 1 resolved not to suppress it. On this oc-
casion fortune seemed to favour me, by giving me a
speedy opportunity of seeing my father alone and in
good-humour. He now first began to open his intended
marriage, telling me that he had formerly had some reli-
gious objections to bigamy, but he had very fully consid-
ered the matter, and had satisfied himself of its legality.
He then faithfully promised me, that no second mar-
riage should in the least impair his affection for me ;
and concluded with the highest eulogiums on the good-
ness of the widow, protesting that it was her virtues,
and not her person, with which he was enamoured.
" I now fell upon my knees before him, and bathing his
260 THE History of Amelia.
hand in my tears, which flowed very plentifully from
my eyes, acquainted him with all I had heard; and was
so very imprudent, I might almost say so cruel, as to
disclose the author of my information.
" Afy father heard me without any indication of pas-
sion ; and answered coldly, that if there was any proof
of such facts, he should decline any farther thoughts of
this match. ' But, child,' said he, ' though I am far from
suspecting the truth of what you tell me, as far as re-
gards your knowledge, yet you know the inclination of
the world to slander.' However, before we parted, he
promised to make a proper inquiry into what 1 had told
him. But I ask your pardon, dear madam, I am running
minutely into those particulars of my life in which you
have not the least concern."
Amelia stopped her friend short in her apology, and
though, perhaps, she thought her impertinent enough,
yet, such was her good-breeding, she gave her many
assurances of a curiosity to know every incident of her
life which she could remember ; after which, Mrs. Ben-
net proceeded, as in the next chapter.
Chapter III. — Continuation of Mrs. Bennet's story.
" I THINK, madam," said Mrs. Bennet, " I told you my
father promised me to inquire farther into the affair, but
he had hardly time to keep his word ; for we separated
pretty late in the evening, and early the next morning
he was married to the widow.
" But though he gave no credit to my information, I
had sufficient reason to think he did not forget it, by the
resentment which he soon discovered to both the per-
sons whom I had named as my informers.
" Nor was it long before I had good cause to believe
that my father's new wife was perfectly well acquaint-
ed with the good opinion I had of her, not only from
her usage of me, but from certain hints, which she threw
forth with an air of triumph. One day, particularly, I
remember she said to my father, upon his mentioning
his age, ' Oh, my dear, I hope you have many years yet
to live ; unless, indeed, 1 should be so cruel as to break
your heart.' She spoke these words looking me full in
the face, and accompanied them with a sneer, in which
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 261
the highest malice was visible, under a thin covering of
affected pleasantry.
" I will not entertain you, madam, with anything so
common as the cruel usage of a step-mother; nor of,
what affected me much more, the unkind behaviour of
a father under such an influence. It shall suffice only
to tell you, that I had the mortification to perceive the
gradual and daily decrease of my father's affection.
His smiles were converted into frowns ; the tender ap-
pellations of child, and dear, were exchanged for plain
Molly, that girl, that creature, and sometimes much
harder names. 1 was at first turned all at once into a
cipher ; and at last, seemed to be considered as a nui-
sance in the family.
" Thus altered was the man, of whom I gave you
such a character at the entrance of my story ; but, alas!
he no longer acted from his own excellent disposition,
but was in everything governed and directed by my
mother-in-law. In fact, whenever there is great dispar-
ity of years between husband and wife, the younger is,
I believe, always possessed of absolute power over the
elder; for superstition itself is a less firm support of ab-
solute power than dotage.
" But though his wife was so entirely mistress of my
father's will, that she could make him use me ill, she
could not so perfectly subdue his understanding, as to
prevent him from being conscious of such ill usage ; and
from this consciousness he began inveterately to hate me.
Of this hatred he gave me numberless instances, and I
protest to you, I know not any other reason for it than
what I have assigned ; and the cause, as experience has
convinced me, is adequate to the effect.
" While I was in this wretched situation, (my father's
unkindness having almost broken my heart,) he came one
day into my room with more anger in his countenance
than I had ever seen ; and after bitterly upbraiding me
with my undutiful behaviour both to himself and his
worthy consort, he bid me pack up my all, and immedi-
ately prepare to quit his house ; and at the same time
gave me a letter, and told me that would acquaint me
where I might find a home ; adding, that he doubted not
but I expected, and had indeed solicited the invitation ;
and left me with a declaration that he would have no
spies in his family.
262 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
" The letter, I found on opening it, was from my
father's own sister ; but before I mention the contents,
1 will give you a short sketch of her character, as it was
somewhat particular. Her personal charms were not
great ; for she was very tall, very thin, and very homely.
Of the defect of her beauty, she was, perhaps, sensible :
her vanity, therefore, retreated into her mind, where
there is no looking-glass, and consequently where we can
flatter ourselves with discovering almost whatever beau-
ties we please. This is an encouraging circumstance ;
and yet I have observed, dear Mrs. Booth, that few wo-
men ever seek these comforts from within, till they are
driven to it by despair of finding any food for their van-
ity from without. Indeed, I believe, the first wish of our
whole sex is to be handsome."
Here both the ladies fixed their eyes on the glass, and
both smiled.
" My aunt, however," continued Mrs. Bennet, " from
despair of gaining any applause this way, had applied her-
self entirely to the contemplation of her understanding,
and had improved this to such a pitch, that at the age of
fifty, at which she was now arrived, she had contracted a
hearty contempt for much the greater part of both sexes ;
for the women as being idiots, and for the men as the
admirers of idiots. That word, and fool, were almost
constantly in her mouth, and were bestowed with great
liberality among all her acquaintance.
" This lady had spent one day only at my father's
house in near two years ; it was about a month before
his second marriage. At her departure, she took occa-
sion to whisper me her opinion of the widow, whom she
called a pretty idiot, and wondered how her brother
could bear such company under his roof; for neither she
nor I had at that time any suspicion of what afterward
happened.
" The letter which my father had just received, and
which was the first she had sent him since his marriage,
was of such a nature, that I should be unjust if I blamed
him for being ofl'ended ; fool and idiot were both plenti-
fully bestowed in it, as well on himself as on his wife.
But what, perhaps, had principally offended him, was
that part which related to me ; for, after nmch panegyr-
ic on my understanding, and saying he was unworthy
of such a daughter, she considered his match not only as
the highest indiscretion, as it related to himself, but as
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 263
a downright act of injustice to me. One expression in
it 1 shall never forget : ' You have placed,' said she, ' a
woman above your daughter, who, in understanding, the
only valuable gifi of nature, is the lowest in the whole
class of pretty idiots.' After much more of this kind, it
concluded with inviting me to her-|jouse.
" I can truly say, that when I had read the letter, I
entirely forgave my father's suspicion, that I had made
some complaints to my aunt of his behaviour; for,
though I was indeed innocent, there was surely colour
enough to suspect the contrary.
" Though I had never been greatly attached to my
aunt, nor, indeed, had she formerly given me any reason
for such an attachment, yet I was well enough pleased
with her present invitation. To say the truth, I led so
wretched a life where I then was, that it was impossible
not to be a gainer by any exchange.
" I could not, however, bear the thoughts of leaving
my father with an impression on his mind against me
which I did not deserve. I endeavoured, therefore, to
remove all his suspicion of my having complained to my
aunt by the most earnest asseverations of my innocence ;
but they were all to no purpose : all my tears, all my
vows, and all my entreaties, were fruitless. My new
mother, indeed, appeared to be my advocate ; but she
acted her part very poorly ; and, far from counterfeiting
any desire of succeeding in my suit, she could not con-
ceal the excessive joy which she felt on the occasion.
" Well, madam, the next day I departed for my aunt's,
where, after a long journey of forty miles, 1 arrived,
without having once broken my fast on the road; for
grief is as capable as food of filling the stomach ; and I
had too mucli of the former to admit any of the latter.
The fatigue of my journey, and the agitation of my mind,
joined to my fasting, so overpowered my spirits, that
when I was taken from my horse, I inmiediately fainted
away in the arms of the man who helped me from my
saddle. My aunt expressed great astonishment at see-
ing me in this condition, with my eyes almost swollen
out of my head with tears; but my father's letter, which
I delivered her soon after I came to myself, pretty well,
I believe, cured her surprise. She often smiled, with a
mixture of contempt and anger, while she was reading
it ; and having pronounced her brother to be a fool, she
264 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
turned to me, and with as much affability as possible^
(for she is no great mistress of affability,) said, ' Don't be
uneasy, dear Molly, for you have come to the house of a
friend ; of one who has sense enough to discern the author
of all the mischief; depend upon it, child, I will, ere long,
make some people ashamed of their folly.' This kind
reception gave me some comfort, my aunt assuring me
that she would convince him how unjustly he had accused
me of having made any complaints to her. A paper war
was now begun between these two, which not only fixed
an irreconcilable hatred between them, but confirmed my
father's displeasure against me, and in the end, I believe,
did me no service with my aunt: for I was considered
by both as the cause of their dissension ; though, in fact,
my stepmother, who very well knew the affection my
aunt had for her, liad long since done her business with
my father ; and as for my aunt's affection towards him,
it had been bating several years, from an apprehension
that he did not pay sufficient deference to her under-
standing.
" I had lived about half a year with my aunt, when I
heard of my stepmother's being delivered of a boy, and
the great joy m3^ father expressed on that occasion ; but,
poor man, he Hved not long to enjoy his happiness; for
within a month afterward I had the melancholy news
of his death.
" Notwithstanding all the disobligations I had lately
received from him, I was sincerely afflicted at my loss
of him. All his kindness to me in my infancy, all his
kindness to m.e while 1 was growing up, recurred to my
memory, raised a thousand tender, melancholy ideas,
and totally obliterated all thoughts of his latter behav-*-
lour, for which 1 made also every allowance and every
excuse in my power.
" But what perhaps may appear more extraordinarj'j
my aunt began to speak of him with concern. She said
he had some understanding formerly, though his passion
for that vile woman had, in a great measure, obscured
it; and one day, when she was in an ill humour with
me, she had the cruelty to throw out a hint, that she
had never quarrelled with her brother, if it had not been
on my account.
" My father, during his life, had allowed my aunt
very handsomely for my board ; for generosity was too
deeply riveted in his nature to be plucked out by all the
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 265
power of his wife. So far, however, she prevailed, that,
though he died possessed of upwards of 2000/., he left
me no more than 100/., which, as he expressed in his
will, was to set me up in some business, if 1 had the
grace to take to any.
" Hitherto my aunt had, in general, treated me with
some degree of affection ; but her behaviour began now
to be changed. She soon took an opportunity of giving
me to understand that her fortune was insufficient to
keep me ; and as I could not live on the interest of my
own, it was high time for me to consider about going
into the world. She added, that her brother having
mentioned my setting up in some business in his will,
was very foolish ; that I had been bred to nothing ;
and, besides, that the sum was too trifling to set me up
in any way of reputation : she desired me, therefore,
to think of immediately going into service.
" This advice was perhaps right enough ; and I told
her I was ready to do as she directed me ; but I was,
at that time, in an ill state of health : I desired her,
therefore, to let me stay with her till my legacy, which
was not to be paid till a year after my father's death,
was due ; and 1 then promised to satisfy her for my
board ; to which she readily consented.
"And now, madam," said Mrs. Bennet, sighing, "I
am going to open to you those matters which lead di-
rectly to that great catastrophe of my life, which has
occasioned my giving you this trouble, and of trying
your patience in this manner."
Amelia, notwithstanding her impatience, made a very
civil answer to this; and then Mrs. Bennet proceeded
to relate what is written in the next chapter.
Chapter IV. — Further cGntmuation.
" The curate of the parish where my aunt dwelt was
a young fellow of about four-and-twenty : he had been
left an orphan in his infancy, and entirely unprovided
for ; when an uncle had the goodness to take care of his
education, both at school and at the university. As the
young gentleman was intended for the church, his uncle,
though he had two daughters of his own, and no very
large fortune, purchased for him the next presentation
23 M
§66 THE HISTORY CF AMELIA.
of a living of near 200/. a year. The incumbent, at the
time of the purchase, was under the age of sixty, and in
apparent good health; notwithstanding which, he died
soon after the bargain, and long before the nephew was
capable of orders; so that the uncle was obliged to give
the living to a clergyman, to hold it till the young man
came of proper age.
"The young gentleman had not attained his proper
age of taking orders, when he had the misfortune to
lose his uncle and only friend ; who, thinking he had
sufficiently provided for his nephew by the purchase of
the living, considered him no further in his will, but
divided all the fortune of which he died possessed be-
tween his two daughters ; recommending it to them,
however, on his deathbed, to assist their cousin with
money sufficient to keep him at the university till he
should be capable of ordination.
"But, as no appointment of this kind was in the will,
the young ladies, who received about 2000/. each,
thought proper to disregard the last words of their
father; for, besides that both of them were extremely
tenacious of their money, they were great enemies to
their cousin, on account of their father's kindness to
him ; and thought proper to let him know that they
thought he had robbed them of too much already.
" The poor young fellow was now greatly distressed ;
for he had yet above a year to stay at the university,
without any visible means of sustaining himself there.
"In this distress, however, he met with a friend, who
had the good-nature to lend him the sum of twenty
pounds, for which he only accepted his bond for forty,
and which was to be paid within a year after his being
possessed of his living; that is, within a year after his
becoming qualified to hold it.
" With this small sum thus hardly obtained, the poor
gentleman made a shift to struggle with all difficulties,
till he became of due age to take upon himself the char-
acter of a deacon. He then repaired to that clergyman
to whom his uncle had given the living upon the condi-
tions above mentioned, to procure a title to ordination ;
but this, to his great surprise and mortification, was ab-
solutely refused him.
"The immediate disappointment did not hurt him so
much as the conclusion he drew from it ; for he could
have but little hopes that the man, who could have the
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 267
cruelty to refuse him a title, would vouchsafe after-
ward to deliver up to him a living of so considerable a
value ; nor v/as it long before this worthy incumbent
told him plainly that he valued his uncle's favours at
too high a rate to part with them to any one : nay, he
pretended scruples of conscience, and said, that if he
had made any slight promises, which he did not now
well remember, they were v/icked and void ; that he
looked upon himself as married to his parish, and he
could no more give it up than he could give up his wife
without sin.
" The poor young fellow was now obliged to seek fur-
ther for a title, which, at length, he obtained from the
rector of the parish where my aunt lived.
" He had not long been settled in the curacy, before
an intimate acquaintance grew between him and my
aunt ; for she was a great admirer of the clergy, and
used frequently to say they were the only conversable
creatures in the country.
" The first time she was in this gentleman's company
was at a neighbour's christening, where she stood god-
mother. Here she displayed her whole little stock of
knowledge, in order to captivate Mr. Bennet ; (I suppose,
madam, you already guess that to have been his name ;)
and, before they parted, gave him a very strong invita-
tion to her house.
" Not a word passed at this christening between Mr.
Bennet and myself ; but our eyes were not unemployed.
Here, madam, I first felt a pleasing kind of confusion,
which I know not how to describe. I felt a kind of
uneasiness ; yet did not wish to be without it. I longed
to be alone ; yet dreaded the hour of parting. I could
not keep my eyes off* from the object which caused my
confusion, and which I was at once afraid of and en-
amoured with. But why do I attempt to describe my
situation to one who must, I am sure, have felt the
same 1"
Amelia smiled, and Mrs. Bennet went on thus : " Oh,
Mrs. Booth ! had you seen the person of whom I am
now speaking, you would not condemn the suddenness
of my love. Nay, indeed, I had seen him there before,
though this was the first time I had ever heard the music
of his voice. Oh ! it was the sweetest that was ever
heard.
" Mr. Bennet came to visit my aunt the very next
M3
^68 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
day. She imputed this respectful haste to the powerful
charms of her understanding, and resolved to lose no
opportunity in improving the opinion which she imagined
he had conceived of her. She became by this desire
quite ridiculous, and ran into absurdities and gaUimatias
scarce credible.
" Mr. Bennet, as I afterward found, saw her in the
same light with myself; but, as he was a very sensible
and well-bred man, he so well concealed his opinion
from us both that I was almost angry, and she was
pleased even to raptures, declaring herself charmed with
his understanding, though, indeed, he had said very
little ; but I beUeve he heard himself into her good opin-
ion, while he gazed himself into love.
" The first two visits which Mr. Bennet made to my
aunt, though I was in the room all the time, I never
spoke a word ; but on the third, on some argument which
arose between them, Mr. Bennet referred himself to me.
I took his side of the question, as indeed I must to have
done justice, and repeated two or three words of Latin.
My aunt reddened at this, and expressed great disdain of
my opinion, declaring she was astonished that a man of
Mr. Bennet's understanding could appeal to the judg-
ment of a silly girl. ' Is she,' said my aunt, bridling her-
self, ' fit to decide between us V Mr. Bennet spoke very
favourably of what I had said, upon which my aunt burst
almost into a rage, treated me with downright scurrility,
called me conceited fool, abused my poor father for hav-
ing taught me Latin, which she said had made me a
do'wnright coxcomb, and made me prefer myself to those
who were a hundred times my superiors in knowledge.
She then fell foul on the learned languages, declarmg
they were totally useless; and concluded that she had
read all that was worth reading, though, she thanked
Heaven, she understood no language but her own.
" Before the end of this visit, Mr. Bennet reconciled
himself very well to my aunt, which, indeed, was no
difficult task for him to accomplish; but from that hour
she conceived a hatred and rancour towards me which
I could never appease.
" My aunt had, from my first coming into her house,
expressed great dislike to my learning ; in plain truth,
she envied me that advantage. This envy 1 had long
ago discovered, and had taken great pains to smother it,
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 269
carefully avoiding ever to mention a Latin word in her
presence, and always submitting to her authority; for
indeed I despised her ignorance too much to dispute
with her. By these means I had pretty well succeeded,
and we hved tolerably together ; but the affront paid to
her understanding by Mr. Bennet in my favour was an
injury never to be forgiven to me. She took me se-
verely to task that very evening, and reminded me of
going to service in such earnest terms as almost
amounted to literally turning me out of doors ; advising
me in the most insulting manner to keep my Latin to
myself, which she said was useless to any one, but ri-
diculous when pretended to by a servant.
" The next visit Mr. Bennet made at our house I was
not suffered to be present. This was much the short-
est of all his visits ; and when he went away, he left my
aunt in a worse humour than ever I had seen her. The
whole was discharged on me in the usual manner, by
upbraiding me with my learning, conceit, and poverty ;
reminding me of obligations, and insisting on my going
immediately to service. With all this 1 was greatly
pleased, as it assured me that Mr. Bennet had said some-
thing to her in my favour ; and I would have purchased
a kind expression of his at almost any price.
*' I should scarce, however, have been so sanguine as
to draw this conclusion, had I not received some hints
that I had not unhappily placed my affections on a man
who made me no return ; for though he had scarce ad-
dressed a dozen sentences to me, (for, indeed, he had
no opportunity,) yet his eyes had revealed certain se-
crets to mine with which 1 was not displeased.
" I remained, however, in a state of anxiety near a
month ; sometimes pleasing myself with thinking Mr.
Bennet's heart was in the same situation with my own ;
sometimes doubting that my wishes had flattered and
deceived me, and not in the least questioning that my
aunt was my rival ; for I thought no woman could be
proof against the charms that had subdued me. Indeed,
Mrs. Booth, he was a charming young fellow : I must,
I must pay this tribute to his memory. Oh, gracious
Heaven ! why, why did I ever see him 1 why was I
doomed to such misery V* Here she burst into a flood
of tears, and remained incapable of speech for some
time, during which the gentle Amelia endeavoured all
23*
270 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
she could to sooth her, and ^ave sufficient marks of
sympathizing in the tender affliction of her friend.
Mrs. Bennet at length recovered her spirits, and pro-
ceeded as in the next chapter.
Chapter V. —The story of Mrs. Bennet continued.
" I SCARCE know where I left off*— oh, I was, I think,
telling you that I esteemed my aunt as my rival ; and it
is not easy to conceive a greater degree of detestation
than I had for her ; and, what may perhaps appear
strange, as she daily grew more and more civil to me,
my hatred increased with her civility; for I imputed it
all to her triumph over me, and to her having secured,
beyond all apprehension, the heart I longed for.
" How was I surprised when one day, with as much
good-humour as she was mistress of, (for her counte-
nance was not very pleasing,) she asked me how I liked
Mr. Bennet. The question, you will believe, madam,
threw me into great confusion, which she plainly per-
ceived, and, without waiting for my answer, told me she
was very well satisfied, for that it did not require her
discernment to read my thoughts in my countenance.
* Well, child,' said she, ' I have suspected this a great
while, and I believe it will please you to know that I
yesterday made the same discovery in your lover.'
This, I confess to you, was more than I could well bear,
and I begged her to say no more to me at that time on
that subject. ' Nay, child,' answered she, ' I must tell
you all, or I should not act a friendly part. Mr. Bennet,
I am convinced, has a passion for you ; but it is a pas-
sion which I think you should not encourage ; for, to be
plain with you, I fear he is in love with your person only.
Now this is a love, child, which cannot produce that ra-
tional happiness which a woman of sense ought to ex-
pect.' In short, she ran on with a great deal of stuff
about rational happiness and women of sense, and con-
cluded with assuring me that, after the strictest scrutiny,
she could not find that Mr. Bennet had an adequate opin-
ion of my understanding ; upon which she vouchsafed
to make me many compliments, but mixed with several
sarcasms concerning my learning.
" I hope, madam, however," said she to Amelia, " you
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 271
have not so bad an opinion of my capacity, as to im-
agine me dull enough to be offended with Mr. Bennet's
sentiments, for which I presently knew so well to ac-
count. I was, indeed, charmed with his ingenuity,
who had discovered, perhaps, the only way of recon-
ciling my aunt to those inclinations, which I now as-
sured myself he had for me.
" I was not long left to support my hopes by my sa-
gacity. He soon found an opportunity of declaring his
passion. He did this in so forcible, though gentle a
manner, with such a profusion of fervency and tender-
ness at once, that his love, like a torrent, bore every-
thing before it ; and I am almost ashamed to own to
you, how very soon he prevailed upon me to — to — in
short, to be an honest woman, and to confess to him
the plain truth.
" When we were upon a good footing together, he
gave me a long relation of what had passed at several
interviews with my aunt, at which I had not been
present. He said he had discovered, that as she valued
herself chiefly on her understanding, so she was ex-
tremely jealous of mine, and hated me on account of
my learning: that, as he had loved me passionately
from his first seeing me, and had thought of nothing
from that time but of throwing himself at my feet, he
saw no way so open to propitiate my aunt as that
which he had taken, by commending my beauty (a per-
fection to which she had long resigned all claim) at the
expense of my understanding, in which he lamented my
deficiency to a degree almost of ridicule. This he
imputed chiefly to my learning: on this occasion he
advanced a sentiment which so pleased my aunt, that
she thought proper to make it her own ; for I heard it
afterward, more than once, from her own mouth.
Learning, he said, had the same effect on the mind that
strong liquors have on the constitution ; both tending to
eradicate all our natural fire and energy. His flattery
had made such a dupe of my aunt, that she assented,
without the least suspicion of his sincerity, to all he
said ; so sure is vanity to weaken every fortress of the
understanding, and to betray us to every attack of the
enemy.
" You will believe, madam, that I readily forgave him
all he had said, not only from that motive which I have
mentioned, but as I was assured he had spoken the re-
%12 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA,
verse of his real sentiments. I was not, however,
quite so well pleased with my aunt, who began to treat
me as if I was really an idiot. Her contempt, I own, a
little piqued me ; and 1 could not help often expressing
iny resentment, when we were alone together, to Mr.
Bennet, who never failed to gratify me, by making her
conceit the subject of his wit ; a talent which he pos-
sessed in the most extraordinary degree.
" This proved of very fatal consequence ; for one
day, while we were enjoying ourselves in a very thick
arbour in the garden, my aunt stole on us unobserved,
and overheard our whole conversation. I wish, my
dear, you understood Latin, that I might repeat you a
sentence, in which the rage of a tigress that has lost
her young is described : no English poet, as I remem-
ber, has come up to it ; nor am I myself equal to the
undertaking. She burst in upon us, open-mouthed, and,
after discharging every abusive word almost in the only
language she understood on poor Mr. Bennet, turned us
both out of doors ; declaring she would send my rags
after me, but would never more permit me to set my
foot within her threshold.
" Consider, dear madam, to what a wretched con-
dition we were now reduced. I had not yet received the
small legacy left me by my father ; nor was Mr. Ben-
net master of five pounds in the whole world,
" In this situation, the man I doted on to distraction
had but little difficulty to persuade me to a proposal,
which, indeed, I thought generous in him to make, as it
seemed to proceed from that tenderness for my reputa-
tion, to which he ascribed it; indeed, it could proceed
from no motive with which I should have been dis-
pleased. In a word, within two days we were man and
wife.
" Mr. Bennet now declared himself the happiest of
men ; and, for my part, I sincerely declare I envied no
woman on earth. How little, alas ! did I then know,
or suspect, the price I was to pay for all my joys ! A
match of real love is, indeed, truly paradise ; and such
perfect happiness seems to be the forbidden fruit to
mortals, which we are to lament having tasted during
the rest of our lives.
" The first uneasiness which attacked us after our
marriage was on my aunt's account. It was very disa-
greeable to hve under the nose of so near a relation.
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 273
who did not acknowledge us, but, on the contrary, was
ever doing us all the ill turns in her power, and making
a party against us in the parish; which is always c^sy
enough to do among the vulgar, against persons who are
their superiors in rank, and, at the same time, their
inferiors in fortune. This made Mr. Bennet think of
procuring an exchange, in which intention he was soon
after confirmed by the arrival of the rector. It was the
rector's custom to spend three months every year at his
living ; for which purpose he reserved an apartment in
his parsonage-house, which was full large enough for
two such little families as then occupied it : we at first
promised ourselves some little convenience from his
boarding with us ; and Mr. Bennet began to lay aside
his thoughts of leaving his curacy, at least for some
time. But these golden ideas presently vanished ; for,
though we both used our utmost endeavours to please
him, we soon found the impossibility of succeeding.
He was, indeed, to give you his character in a word, the
most peevish of mortals. This temper, notwithstanding
that he was both a good and a pious man, made his
company so insufferable, that nothing could compensate
it. If his breakfast was not ready to a moment; if a
dish of meat was too much or too little done ; in short,
if anything failed of exactly hitting his taste, he was
sure to be out of humour all that day ; so that, indeed,
he was scarce ever in a good temper the whole day to-
gether ; for Fortune seems to take a delight in thwarting
this kind of disposition, to which human life, with its
many crosses and accidents, is, in truth, by no means
fitted.
" Mr. Bennet was now, by my desire, as well as his
own, determined to quit the parish ; but, when he at-
tempted to get an exchange, he found it a matter of
more difficulty than he had apprehended ; for the rec-
tor's temper was so well known among the neighbour-
ing clergy, that none of them could be brought to think
of spending three months in the year with him.
" After many fruitless inquiries, Mr. Bennet thought
best to remove to London, the great mart of all affairs
ecclesiastical and civil. This project greatly pleased
him, and he resolved, without more delay, to take his
leave of the rector, which he did in the most friendly
manner possible, and preached his farewell sermon;
nor was there a dry eye in the church, except among
M3
274 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
the few whom my aunt, who remained still inexorable,
had prevailed upon to hate us without any cause.
" To London we came, and took up our lodging the
first night at the inn where the stagecoach set us down :
the next morning my husband went out early on his
business, and returned with the good news of having
heard of a curacy, and of having equipped himself with
a lodging in the neighbourhood of a worthy peer, who,
said he, was my fellow-collegiate ; and, what is more,
J have a direction to a person who will advance your
legacy at a very reasonable rate.
'*This last particular was extremely agreeable to me,
for our last guinea was now broached, and the rector
had lent my husband ten pounds to pay his debts in
the country ; for, with all his peevishness, he was a
good and a generous man, and had indeed so many val-
uable qualities, that I lamented his temper, after I
knew him thoroughly, as much on his account as on my
own.
" We now quitted the inn and went to our lodgings,
where my husband having placed me in safety, as he
said, he went about the business of the legacy, with
good assurance of success.
" My husband returned elated with his success, the
person to whom he applied having undertaken to advance
the legacy, which he fulfilled as soon as the proper in-
quiries could be made, and proper instruments prepared
for that purpose.
" This, however, took up so much time, that, as our
fund was so very low, we were reduced to some dis-
tress, and obliged to live extremely penurious; nor
would all do, without my taking a most disagreea-
ble way of procuring money, by pawning one of my
gowns.
" Mr. Bennet was now settled in a curacy in town,
greatly to his satisfaction, and our affairs seemed to
have a prosperous aspect, when he came home to me
one morning in much apparent disorder, looking as pale
as death, and begged me, by some means or other, to get
him a dram; for that he was taken with a sudden faint-
iiess and lowness of spirits.
" Frightened as I was, I immediately ran down stairs,
and procured some rum of the mistress of the house ;
the first time, indeed, I ever knew him drink any. When
he came to himself, he begged me not to be alarmed j
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 275
for it was no distemper, but something that had vexed
him, which had caused his disorder, which he had now
perfectly recovered.
" He then told me the whole affair. He had hitherto
deferred paying a visit to the lord whom I mentioned
to have been formerly his fellow-collegiate, and was
now his neighbour, till he could put himself in decent
rigging. He had now purchased a new cassock, hat,
and wig, and went to pay his respects to his old ac-
quaintance, who had received from him many civihties
and assistances in his learning at the university, and had
promised to return them fourfold hereafter.
" It was not without some difficulty that Mr. Bennet
got into the antechamber : here he waited, or, as the
phrase is, cooled his heels, for above an hour, before he
saw his lordship, nor had he seen him then, but by an
accident ; for my lord was going out, when he casually
intercepted him in his passage to his chariot. He ap-
proached to salute him with some familiarity, though
with respect, depending on his former intimacy, when
my lord, stopping short, very gravely told him he had
not the pleasure of knowing him. ' How ! my lord,' said
he, ' can you have so soon forgot your old acquaintance
Tom Bennet ]' ' Oh, Mr. Bennet !' cries his lordship, with
much reserve, ' is it you 1 You will pardon my mem-
ory. I am glad to see you, Mr. Bennet; but you must
excuse me at present, for 1 am in very great haste.'
He then broke from him, and without more ceremony,
or any further invitation, went directly into his chariot.
" This cold reception from a person for whom my
husband had a real friendship, and from whom he had
great reason to expect a very warm return of affection,
so affected the poor man, that it caused all those symp-
toms which I have mentioned before.
" Though this incident produced no material conse-
quence, 1 could not pass it over in silence, as of all
the misfortunes which ever befell him, it affected my
husband the most. I need not, however, to a woman
of your delicacy, make any comments on a behaviour
which, though I believe it is very common, is never-
theless cruel and base beyond description ; and is dia-
metrically opposite to true honour, as well as to good-
ness.
" To relieve the uneasiness which my husband felt
on account of his false friend, I prevailed with him to go
276 TTTE -HISTORY OF AMELIA.
every night, almost for a fortnight together, to the play ;
a diversion of which he was greatly fond, and from which
he did not think his being a clergyman excluded him.
Indeed, it is very well if those austere persons who
would be inclined to censure him on this head, have no
greater sins themselves to answer for.
" From this time, during three months, we passed
our time very agreeably — a little too agreeably, per-
haps, for our circumstances; for however innocent
diversions may be in other respects, they must be
owned to be expensive. When you consider then,
madam, that our income from the curacy was less than
forty pounds a year, and that, after payment of the
debt to the rector, and another to my aunt, with the
costs in law which she had occasioned by suing for it,
my legacy was reduced to less than seventy pounds, you
will not wonder that in diversions, clothes, and the com-
mon expenses of life, we had almost consumed our
whole stock.
" The inconsiderate manner in which we had lived
for some time will, I doubt not, appear to you to want
some excuse ; but I have none to make for it. Two
things, however, now happened, which occasioned much
serious reflection to Mr. Bennet ; the one was, that I
grew near my time ; the other, that he now received a
letter from Oxford, demanding the debt of forty pounds,
which I mentioned to you before. The former of these
he made a pretence of obtaining a delay for the payment
of the latter, promising in two months to pay off half
the debt, by which means he obtained a forbearance du-
ring that time.
" I was now delivered of a son, a matter which
should, in reality, have increased our concern ; but, on
the contrary, it gave us great pleasure ; greater indeed
could not have been conceived at the birth of an heir
to the most plentiful estate : so entirely thoughtless
were we, and so little forecast had we of those many
evils and distresses to which we had rendered a human
creature, and one so dear to us, liable. The day of
christening is, in all families, I believe, a day of ju-
bilee and rejoicing; and yet, if we consider the interest
of that little wretch who is the occasion, how very lit-
tle reason would the most sanguine persons have for
their joy !
" But, though our eyes were too weak to look for-
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 277
ward for the sake of our child, we could not be blinded
to those dangers that immediately threatened our-
selves. Mr. Bennet, at the expiration of the two
months, received a second letter from Oxford, in a
very peremptory style, and threatening" a suit without
any further delay. This alarmed us in the strongest
manner ; and my husband, to secure his liberty, was
advised, for a while, to shelter himself in the verge of
the court.
"And now, madam, I am entering on that scene
which directly leads to all my misery." Here she
stopped, and wiped her eyes ; and then, begging Ame-
lia to excuse her for a few minutes, ran hastily out of
the room, leaving Amelia by herself, while she refreshed
her spirits with a cordial, to enable her to relate what
follows in the next chapter.
Chapter VI. — Further continued.
Mrs. Bennet, returning into the room, made a short
apology for her absence, and then proceeded in these
words : —
" We now left our lodgings, and took a second floor
in that very house where you now are ; to which we
were recommended by the woman where we had before
lodged, for the mistresses of both houses were ac-
quainted ; and, indeed, we had been all at the play to-
gether. To this new lodging, then, (such was our
wretched destiny,) we immediately repaired, and were
received by Mrs. Ellison (how can 1 bear the sound of
that detested name !) with much civility : she took care,
however, during the first fortnight of our residence, to
wait upon us every Monday morning for her rent ; such
being, it seems, the custom of this place, which, as it
was inhabited chiefly by persons in debt, is not the re-
gion of credit.
" My husband, by the singular goodness of the rector,
who greatly compassionated his case, was enabled to
continue in his curacy, though he could only do the
duty on Sundays. He was, however, sometimes obliged
to furnish a person to officiate at his expense; so that
our income was very scanty, and the poor little remain-
der of the legacy being almost spent, we were reduced
24
"278 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
to some difficulties, and, what was worse, saw still a
prospect of greater before our eyes.
" Under these circumstances, how agreeable to poor
Mr. Bennet must have been the behaviour of Mrs. Elli-
son, who, when he carried her her rent on the usual day,
told him, with a benevolent smile, that he needed not to
give himself the trouble of such exact punctuality !
She added, that if it was at any time inconvenient to
him, he might pay her when he pleased. ' To say the
truth,' says she, ' I never was so much pleased with any
lodgers in my life. I am convinced, Mr. Bennet, you
are a very worthy man, and you are a very happy one
too ; for you have the prettiest wife and the prettiest
child I ever saw.' These, dear madam, were the words
she was pleased to make use of ; and I am sure she be-
haved to me with such an appearance of friendship and
affection, that, as I could not perceive any possible views
of interest which she could have in her professions, I
easily believed them real.
'• There lodged in the same house — oh, Mrs. Booth !
the blood runs cold to my heart, and should run cold to
yours when I name him — there lodged in the same
house a lord — the lord, indeed, whom I have since seen
in your company. This lord, Mrs. Ellison told me, had
taken a great fancy to my little Charly : fool that 1 was,
and blinded by my own passion, which made me con-
ceive that an infant not three months old could be really
the object of affection to any besides a parent ; and
more especially to a gay young fellow ! But if I was
silly in being deceived, how wicked was the wretch who
deceived me ; who used such art, and employed such
pains, such incredible pains, to deceive me ! He acted
the part of a nurse to my little infant; he danced it, he
lulled it, he kissed it ; declared it was the very picture
of a nephew of his, his favourite sister's child ; and said
so many kind and fond things of its beauty, that I my-
self, though, I believe, one of the tenderest and fondest
of mothers, scarce carried my own ideas of my little
darling's perfection beyond the compliments which he
paid it.
" My lord, however, perhaps from modesty before my
face, fell far short of what Mrs. Ellison reported from
him. And now, when she found the impression which
was made on me by these means, she took every oppor-
tunity of insinuating to me his lordship's many virtues,
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 279
his great goodness to his sister's children in particular ;
nor did she fail to drop some hints, which gave me the
most simple and groundless hopes of strange conse-
quences from his fondness to my Charly.
" When by these means (which, simple as they may
appear, were, perhaps, the most artful) my lord had
gained something more, I think, than my esteem, he
took the surest method to confirm himself in my affec-
tion. This was, by professing the highest friendship
for my husband ; for, as to myself, I do assure you, he
never showed me more than common respect ; and I
hope you will believe, I should have immediately startled
and flown off if he had. Poor I accounted for all the
friendship which he expressed for my husband, and all
the fondness which he showed to my boy, from the
great prettiness of the one, and the great merit of the
other ; foolishly conceiving, that others saw with my
eyes and felt with my heart. Little did I dream that
my own unfortunate person was the fountain of all this
lord's goodness, and was the intended price of it.
" One evening, as I was drinking tea with Mrs. Elli-
son by my lord's fire, (a liberty which she never scru-
pled taking when he was gone out,) my little Charly,
now about half a year old, sitting in her lap, my lord
accidentally, no doubt, indeed I then thought it so, came
in. I was confounded, and offered to go ; but my lord
declared, if he disturbed Mrs. EUison's company, as he
phrased it, he would himself leave the room. When I
was thus prevailed on to keep my seat, my lord imme-
diately took my little baby into his lap, and gave it some
tea there, not a little at the expense of his embroidery,
for he was very richly dressed ; indeed, he was as fine
a figure as perhaps ever was seen. His behaviour on
this occasion gave me many ideas in his favour. I
thought he discovered good sense, good-nature, conde-
scension, and other good qualities, by the fondness he
showed to my child, and the contempt he seemed to ex-
press for his finery, which so greatly became him ; for
I cannot deny but that he was the handsomest and gen-
teelest person in the world ; though such considerations
advanced him not a step in my favour.
" My husband now returned from church, (for this
happened on a Sunday,) and was, by my lord's particu-
lar desire, ushered into the room. My lord received him
with the utmost politeness, and with many professions
280 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
of esteem, which, he said, he had conceived from Mrs.
Ellison's representations of his merit. He then pro-
ceeded to mention the living which was detained from
my husband, of which Mrs. Ellison had likewise in-
formed him ; and said he thought it would be no diffi-
cult matter to obtain a restoration of it by the authority
of the bishop, who was his particular friend, and to
whom he would take an immediate opportunity of men-
tioning it. This, at last, he determined to do the very
next day ; when he invited us both to dinner, where we
were to be acquainted with his lordship's success.
" My lord now insisted on my husband's staying sup-
per with him, without taking any notice of me ; but
Mrs. Ellison declared he should not part man and wife,
and that she herself would stay with me. The motion
was too agreeable to me to be rejected ; and, except the
little time I retired to put my child to bed, we spent to-
gether the most agreeable evening imaginable ; nor was
it, I believe, easy to decide, whether Mr. Bennet or my-
self were most delighted with his lordship and Mrs. El-
lison ; but this I assure you, the generosity of the one,
and the extreme civility and kindness of the other, were
the subjects of our conversation all the ensuing night,
during which we neither of us closed our eyes.
" The next day, at dinner, my lord acquainted us,
that he had prevailed with the bishop to write to the
clergyman in the country ; indeed, he told us that he had
engaged the bishop to be very warm in our interest, and
had not the least doubt of success. This threw us both
into a flow of spirits; and in the afternoon, Mr. Ben-
net, at Mrs. Ellison's request, which was seconded by
his lordship, related the history of our lives from our
first acquaintance. My lord seemed much affected with
some tender scenes, which, as no man could better feel,
so none could better describe than my husband. When
he had finished, my lord begged pardon for mentioning
an occurrence which gave him such a particular con-
cern, as it had disturbed that delicious state of happiness
in which we had lived at our former lodging. ' It would
be ungenerous,' said he, ' to rejoice at an accident which,
though it brought me fortunately acquainted with two
of the most agreeable people in the world, was yet at
the expense of your mutual felicity. The circumstance
I mean, is your debt at Oxford : pray, how does that
stand 1 I am resolved it shall never disturb your hap-
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 281
piness hereafter.' At these words, the tears burst from
my poor husband's eyes ; and, in an ecstasy of grati-
tude, he cried out, ' Your lordship overcomes me with
generosity. If you go on in this manner, both my wife's
gratitude and mine must be bankrupt.' He then ac-
quainted my lord with the exact state of the case, and
received assurances from him that the debt should never
trouble him. My husband was again breaking out into
the warmest expressions of gratitude, but my lord
stopped him short, saying, ' If you have any obligation, it
is to my little Charly here, from whose little innocent
smiles I have received more than the value of this trifling
debt in pleasure.' I forgot to tell you, that when I
offered to leave the room, after dinner, upon my child's
account, my lord would not suffer me, but ordered the
child to be brought to me. He now took it out of my
arms, placed it upon his own knee, and fed it with some
fruit from the dessert. In short, it would be more
tedious to you than to myself to relate the thousand
little tendernesses he showed to the child. He gave it
many bawbles ; among the rest was a coral, worth at
least three pounds ; and when my husband was confined
near a fortnight to his chamber with a cold, he visited
the child everyday, for to this infant's account were all
the visits placed ; and seldom failed of accompanying
his visit with a present to the little thing.
" Here, Mrs. Booth, I cannot help mentioning a doubt
which has often arisen in my mind, since I have been
enough mistress of myself to reflect on this horrid train
which was laid to blow up my innocence. Wicked and
barbarous it was to the highest degree, without any
question ; but my doubt is, whether the art or folly of it
be the more conspicuous ; for however delicate and re-
fined the art must be allowed to have been, the folly, I
think, must, upon a fair examination, appear no less
astonishing ; for, to lay all considerations of cruelty and
crime out of the case, what a foolish bargain does the
man make for himself who purchases so poor a pleasure
at so high a price !
" We had lived near three weeks with as much free-
dom as if we had been all of the same family; when,
one afternoon, my lord proposed to my husband to ride
down himself to solicit the surrender; for he said the
bishop had received an unsatisfactory answer from the
parson, and had written a second letter more pressing,
24*
S82 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
which his lordship now promised us to strengthen by one
of his own, that my husband was to carry with him.
Mr. Bennet agreed to this proposal with great thankful-
ness, and the next day was appointed for his journey.
The distance was near seventy miles.
" My husband set out on his journey ; and he had
scarce left me, before Mrs. Ellison came into my room,
and endeavoured to comfort nie in his absence : to say
the truth, though he was to be from me but a few days,
and the purpose of his going was to fix our happiness
on a sound foundation for all our future days, 1 could
scarce support my spirits under this first separation.
But though 1 then thought Mrs. Ellison's intentions to
be most kind and friendly, yet the means she used were
utterly ineffectual, and appeared to me injudicious.
Instead of soothing my uneasiness, which is always the
first physic to be given to grief, she rallied me upon it, and
began to talk in a very unusual style of gayety, in which
she treated conjugal love with much ridicule.
" I gave her to understand that she displeased me by
this discourse ; but she soon found means to give such a
turn to it, as made a merit of all she had said. And
now, when she had worked me into a good humour, she
made a proposal to me, which I at first rejected ; but at
last fatally — too fatally, suffered myself to be over per-
suaded. This was to go to a masquerade at Ranelagh, for
which my lord had furnished her with tickets."
At these words, Amelia turned pale as death, and
hastily begged her friend to give her a glass of water,
some air, or anything. Mrs. Bennet, having thrown open
the window, and procured the water, which prevented
Amelia from fainting, looked at her with much tender-
ness, and cried, " I do not wonder, my dear madam, that
you are affected with my mentioning that fatal masquer-
ade ; since I firmly believe the same ruin was intended
for you at the same place ; the apprehension of which
occasioned the letter I sent you this morning, and all
the trial of your patience which I have made since."
Amelia gave her a tender embrace, with many ex-
pressions of the warmest gratitude ; assured her she had
pretty well recovered her spirits, and begged her to
continue her story ; which Mrs. Bennet then did. How-
ever, as our readers may likewise be glad to recover
their spirits also, we shall here put an end to the chapter.
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 283
Chapter VII. — The story iurtlaer contmued,
Mrs. Bennet proceeded thus : —
**I was at length prevailed on to accompany Mrs,
Ellison to the masquerade. Here, I must confess, the
pleasantness of the place, the variety of the dresses,
and the novelty of the thing, gave me much delight,
and raised my fancy to the highest pitch. As I was en-
tirely void of all suspicion, my mind threw off all re-
serve, and pleasure only filled my thoughts. Innocence,
it is true, possessed my heart ; but it was innocence un-
guarded, intoxicated with foolish desires, and liable to
every temptation. During the first two hours, we had
many trifling adventures not worth remembering. At
length my lord joined us, and continued with me all the
evening, and we danced several dances together,
" I need not, I believe, tell you, madam, how engaging
his conversation is. I wish I could with truth say, I
was not pleased with it ; or, at least, that I had a right
to be pleased with it. But I will disguise nothing from
you : I now began to discover that he had some affec-
tion for me ; but he had already too firm a footing in my
esteem, to make the discovery shocking. I will — 1 will
own the truth ; I was delighted with perceiving a pas-
sion in him, which I was not unwilling to think he had
had from the beginning, and to derive his having con-
cealed it so long from his awe of my virtue, and his
respect to my understanding. 1 assure you, madam, at
the same time, my intentions were never to exceed the
bounds of innocence. I was charmed with the delicacy
of his passion ; and in the foolish, thoughtless turn of
mind in which I then was, I fancied I might give some
very distant encouragement to such a passion in such a
man, with the utmost safety ; that I might indulge my
vanity and interest at once, without being guilty of the
least injury.
'* I know Mrs. Booth will condemn all these thoughts,
and I condemn them no less myself; for it is now my
steadfast opinion, that the woman who gives up the least
outwork of her virtue, does in that very moment betray
the citadel.
" About two o'clock we returned home, and found a
very handsome collation provided for us. I was asked
284' THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
to partake of it ; and I did not, I could not refuse. I was
not, however, entirely void of all suspicion, and I made
many resolutions ; one of which was, not to drink a drop
more than my usual stint. This was, at the utmost, little
more than half a pint of small punch.
" I adhered strictly to my quantity, but in the quality
I am convinced I was deceived ; for, before I left the
room, I found my head giddy. What the villain gave
me, I know not ; but, besides being intoxicated, I per-
ceived effects from it which are not to be described.
" Here, madam, I must draw a curtain over the resi-
due of that fatal night. Let it suffice, that it involved
me in the most dreadful ruin ; a ruin to which, I can truly
say, I never consented ; and of which I was scarce con-
scious, when the villanous man avowed it to my face in
the morning.
•' Thus I have deduced my story to the most horrid
period ; happy had I been had this been the period of my
life ; but I was reserved for greater miseries : but before
I enter on them, I will mention something very remark-
able, with which I was now acquainted, and that will
show there was nothing of accident which had befallen
me ; but that all was the effect of a long, regular, pre-
meditated design.
" You may remember, madam, 1 told you that we
were recommended to Mrs. Ellison by a woman al
whose house we had before lodged. This woman, it
seems, was one of my lord's pimps, and had before in-
troduced me to his lordship's notice.
" You are to know then, madam, that this villain, this
lord, now confessed to me that he had first seen me
in the gallery at the oratorio, whither 1 had gone with
tickets with which the woman where I had first
lodged had presented me, and which were, it seems,
purchased by my lord. Here I first met the vile be-
trayer, who was disguised in a rug-coat, and a patch
upon his face."
At these words, Amelia cried out, " Oh, gracious
heavens !" and fell back in her chair. Mrs. Bennet,
with proper applications, brought her back to life ; and
then Amelia acquainted her that she herself had first
seen the same person in the same place, and in the same
disguise. " Oh, Mrs. Bennet !" cried she, " how am I
indebted to you I what words, what thanks, what actions
can demonstrate the gratitude of my sentiments ! I look
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 285
^pon you, and always shall look upon you, as my pre-
server from the brink of a precipiee, from which I was
falling into the same ruin, which you have so generously,
so kindly, and so nobly disclosed for my sake."
Here the two ladies compared notes ; and it appeared
that his lordship's behaviour at the oratorio had been
alike to both ; that he had made use of the very same
words, the very same actions to Amelia, which he had
practised over before on poor, unfortunate Mrs. Bennet.
It may, perhaps, be thought strange, that neither of them
could afterward recollect him ; but so it was. And, in-
deed, if we consider the force of disguise, the very short
time that either of them was with him at this first inter-
view, and the very little curiosity that must have been
supposed in the minds of the ladies, together with the
amusement in whieh they were then engaged, all won-
der will, I apprehend, cease. Ameha, however, now de-
clared she remembered his voice and features perfectly
well, and w^as thoroughly satisfied that he was the same
person. She then accounted for his not having visited
in the afternoon, according to his promise, from her de-
clared resolutions to Mrs. Ellison not to see him. She
now burst forth into some very satirical invectives
against that lady, and declared she had the art, as well
as the wickedness, of the devil himself.
Many congratulations now passed from Mrs. Bennet
to Amelia, which were returned with the most hearty
acknowledgments from that lady. But, instead of filling
our paper with the^, we shall pursue Mrs. Bennet's
story ; which she resumed as we shall find, in the next
chapter.
Chapter VITL— Further continuation.
*^ No sooner," said Mrs. Bennet, continuing her story,
*'■ was my lord departed, than Mrs. Ellison came to me.
She behaved in such a manner, when she became ac-
quainted with what had passed, that though I was at first
satisfied of her guilt, she began to stagger my opinion ;
and at length prevailed upon me entirely to acquit her.
She raved like a mad woman against my lord, swore he
should not stay a moment in her house, and that she
would never speak to him more. In short, had she beea
286 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA;
the most innocent woman in the world, she could not
have spoken nor acted any otherwise, nor could she
have vented more wrath and indignation against the be-
trayer.
"That part of her denunciation of vengeance which
concerned my lord's leaving the house, she vowed should
be executed immediately ; but then, seeming to recol-
lect herself, she said, ' Consider, my dear child, it is
for your sake alone I speak ; will not such a proceed-
ing give some suspicion to your husband V I answered,
that 1 valued not that ; that I was resolved to inform my
husband of all, the moment I saw him ; with many eX'
pressions of detestation of myself, and an indifference
for life, and for everything else.
*' Mrs. Ellison, however, found means to sooth me,
and to satisfy me with my own innocence ; a point in
which, 1 believe, we are all easily convinced. In short,
I was persuaded to acquit both myself and her, to lay the
■whole guilt upon my lord, and to resolve to conceal it
from my husband.
" That whole day I confined myself to my chamber,
and saw no person but Mrs. Ellison. I was indeed
ashamed to look any one in the face. Happily for me,
my lord went into the country without attempting to
come near me ; for I believe his sight would have driven
rae to madness.
" The next day, I told Mrs. EUison that I was re-
solved to leave her lodgings the moment my lord came
to town; not on her account, (fo»I really inclined to
think her innocent,) but on my lord's, whose face I was
resolved, if possible, never more to behold. She told me
I had no reason to quit her house on that score ; for that
my lord himself had left her lodgings that morning, in
resentment, she believed, of the abuse which she had
cast on him the day before.
" This confirmed me in the opinion of her innocence :
nor has she, from that day to this, till my acquaintance
with you, madam, done anything to forfeit my opinion.
On the contrary, I owe her many good oflices ; among
the rest, I have an annuity of 150/. a year from my lord,
which I know was owing to her solicitations, for she is
not void of generosity or good-nature ; though, by what
I have lately seen, I am convinced she was the cause of
my ruin, and has endeavoured to lay the same snares
for you.
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 287
" But to return to my melancholy story. My hus-
band returned at the appointed time ; and I met him
with an agitation of mind not to be described. Perhaps
the fatigue which he had undergone in his journey, and
his dissatisfaction at his ill success, prevented his taking
notice of what I feared was too visible. All his hopes
were entirely frustrated; the clergyman had not received
the bishop's letter ; and as to my lord's, he treated it
with derision and contempt. Tired as he was, Mr.
Bennet would not sit down till he had inquired for my
lord, intending to go and pay his compliments. Poor
man ! he little suspected that he had deceived him, as I
have since known, concerning the bishop; much less did
he suspect any other injury. But the lord — the villain —
was gone out of town ; so that he was forced to post-
pone all his gratitude.
" Mr. Bennet returned to town late on the Saturday
night, nevertheless he performed his duty at church the
next day ; but I refused to go with him. This, I think,
was the first refusal I was guilty of since our marriage :
but I was become so miserable, that his presence, which
had been the source of all my happiness, was become
my bane. I will not say I hated to see him ; but I can
say I was ashamed, indeed afraid, to look him in the
face. I was conscious of I knew not what — guilt, I
hope, it cannot be called."
" I hope not, nay, I think not," cries Amelia.
*' My husband," continued Mrs. Bennet, " perceived my
dissatisfaction, and imputed it to his ill success in the
country. I was pleased with this self-delusion ; and yet,
when I fairly compute the agonies I suffered at his en-
deavours to comfort me on that head, I paid most se-
verely for it. Oh, my dear Mrs. Booth ! happy is the
deceived party between true lovers, and wretched indeed
is the author of the deceit.
" In this wretched condition I passed a whole week,
the most miserable, I think, of my whole life, endeavour-
ing to humour my husband's delusion, and to conceal my
own tortures ; but 1 had reason to fear I could not suc-
ceed long; for on the Saturday night I perceived a visi-
ble alteration in his behaviour to me. He went to bed
in an apparent ill-humour; turned sullenly from me;
and, if I offered any endearments, he gave me only
peevish answers.
" After a restless, turbulent night, he arose early on
288 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA,
Sunday morning, and walked down stairs. I expecfei^
his return to breakfast, but was soon informed by the
maid that he was gone forth ; and that it was no more
than seven o'clock. All this, you may believe, madam,
alarmed me, I saw plainly he had discovered the fatal
secret, though by what meaus I could not divine. The
state of my mind was very little short of madness.
Sometimes I thought of running away from my injured
husband, and sometimes of putting an end to my life.
" In the midst of such perturbations I spent the day.
My husband returned in the evening. Oh heavens ! can
I describe what followed ^ It is impossible ; I shall sink
under the relation. He entered the room, with a face
as white as a sheet, his lips trembling, and his eyes as
red as coals of fire, and starting as it were from his head.
* Molly,' cries he, throwing himself into his chair, ' are you
well V ' Good heavens !' says I, ' what's the matter ? In-
deed, I cannot say 1 am well.' ' No,' says he, starting
from his chair, ' false monster, you have betrayed me,
destroyed me, you have ruined your husband V Then,
looking like a fury, he snatched off a large book from
the table, and, with the mahce of a madman, threw it at
my head, and knocked me down backward. He then
caught me up in his arms, and kissed me with most ex-
travagant tenderness ; then, looking me steadfastly in
the face for several- moments, the tears gushed in a tor-
rent from his eyes, and with his utmost violence he
threw me again on the floor ; kicked me, stamped uprm
me. I believe, indeed, his intent was to kill me, and I
believe he thought he had accomplished it.
" I lay on the ground for some minutes, I believe, de-
prived of my senses. When I recovered myself, 1 found
my husband lying by my side on his face, and the blood
running from him. It seems, when he thought he had
despatched me, he ran his head with all his force against
a chest of drawers which stood in the room, and gave
himself a dreadful wound in his head.
" I can truly say, I felt not the least resentment for
the usage I had received ; I thought I deserved it all ;
though, indeed, I little guessed what he had suffered
from me. I now used the most earnest entreaties to
him to compose himself; and endeavoured, with my
feeble arms, to raise him from the ground. At length
he broke from me, and springing from the ground, flung
himself mto a chair, when, looking Mildly at me, he cried,
' Go from me, Molly. I beseech you, leave me ; I Avould
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 289
not kill you.' He then discovered to me — Oh, Mrs.
Booth I can you gness it ? 1 was indeed polkited by the
villain ; I had infected my husband. Oh heavens ! why
do I live to relate anything so horrid ? I will not, I can-
not yet survive it. I cannot forgive myself. Heaven
cannot forgive me."
Here she became inarticulate with the violence of her
grief, and fell presently into such agonies, that the af-
frighted Amelia began to call aloud for some assistance.
Upon this, a maid-servant came up, who, seeing her
mistress in a violent convulsion fit, presently screamed
out she was dead. Upon which one of the other sex
made his appearance ; and who should this be but the
honest sergeant ? whose countenance soon made it evi-
dent, that though a soldier, and a brave one too, he was not
the least concerned of all the company on this occasion.
The reader, if he has been acquainted with scenes of
this kind, very well knows that Mrs. Bennet, in the
usual time, returned again to the possession of her voice ;
the first use of which she made was to express her
astonishment at the presence of the sergeant, and, with
a frantic air, to inquire who he was.
The maid, concluding that her mistress was not yet
returned to her senses, answered, " Why 'tis my master,
madam. Heaven preserve your senses, madam. Lord,
sir, my mistress must be very bad not to know you."
What Atkinson thought at this instant, I will not say ;
but certain it is, he looked not over wise. He attempted
twice to take hold of Mrs. Bennet's hand ; but she with-
drew it hastily, and, presently after rising up from her
chair, she declared herself pretty well again, and desired
Atkinson and the maid to withdraw, both of whom pres-
ently obeyed; the sergeant appearing, by his countenance,
to want comfort almost as much as the lady did, to
whose assistance he had been summoned.
It is a good maxim to trust a person entirely or not at
all ; for a secret is often innocently blabbed out by those
who know but half of it. Certain it is, that the maid's
speech communicated a suspicion to the mind of Amelia,
which the behaviour of the sergeant did not tend to re-
move : what that is, the sagacious readers may likewise
probably suggest to themselves ; if not, they must wait
our time for disclosing it. We shall now resume the
history of Mrs. Bennet, who, after many apologies, pro-
ceeded to the matters in the next chapter.
25 N
290 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA,
Chapter IX.— The conclusion of Mrs. Bennet's history,
" When 1 became sensible," cries Mrs. Bennet, " of the
injury 1 had done my husband, I threw myself at his
feet ; and embracing his knees, while I bathed them with
my tears, I begged a patient hearing, declaring, if he was
not satisfied with what I should say, I would become a
willing victim of his resentment. I said, and I said
truly, that if I owed my death that instant to his hands,
I should have no other terror, but of the fatal conse-
quence which it might produce to himself.
" He seemed a little pacified, and bid me say what-
ever I pleased.
" I then gave him a faithful relation of all that bad
happened. He heard me with great attention, and at
the conclusion cried, with a deep sigh, ' Oh, Molly, I be-
lieve it all. You must have been betrayed as you tell
me; you could not be guilty of such baseness, such
cruelty, such ingratitude.' He then — oh, it is impos-
sible to describe his behaviour ! he expressed such kind-
ness, such tenderness, such concern for the manner in
which he had used me — I cannot dwell on this scene — I
shall relapse — you must excuse me."
Ameha begged her to omit anything which so affected
her; and she proceeded thus: —
" My husband, who was more convinced than I was
of Mrs. Ellison's guilt, declared he would not sleep that
night in her house. He then went out to seek for a
lodging; he gave me all the money he had, and left me
to pay her bill, and put up the clothes, telling me, if I
had not money enough, I might leave the clothes as a
pledge ; but he vowed he could not answer for himself
if he saw the face of Mrs. Ellison.
" Words can scarce express the behaviour of that art-
ful woman, it was so kind and so generous. She said
she did not blame my husband's resentment ; nor could
she expect any other, but that he and all the world
should censure her; that she hated her house almost as
much as we did, and detested her cousm, if possible,
more. In fine, she said I might leave my clothes here
that evening, but that she would send them to us the
next morning ; that she scorned the thought of detain-
ing them ; and as for the paltry debt, we might pay her
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 291
whenever we pleased; for, to do her justice, with all
her vices, she has some good in her."
" Some good in her, indeed!" cried Amelia, with great
indignation.
" We were scarce settled in our new lodging," contin-
ued Mrs. Bennet, "when my husband began to com-
plain of a pain in his inside. He told me, he feared he
had done himself some injury in his rage, and had burst
something within him. As to the odious — I cannot bear
the thought — the great skill of the surgeon soon entire-
ly cured him ; but his other complaint, instead of yield-
ing to any application, grew still worse and worse, nor
ever ended till it brought him to his grave.
" Oh, Mrs. Booth ! could 1 have been certain that I
had occasioned this, however innocently I had occa-
sioned it, I could never have survived it ; but the sur-
geon, who opened him after his death, assured me, that
he died of what they called a polypus in his heart, and
that nothing which had happened on account of me was
in the least the occasion of it.
" I have, however, related the affair truly to you.
The first complaint I ever heard of the kind, was with-
in a day or two after we left Mrs. Ellison's ; and this
complaint remained till his death, which might induce
him, perhaps, to attribute his death to another cause ;
but the surgeon, who is a man of the highest eminence,
has always declared the contrary to me, with the most
positive certainty, and this opinion has been my only
comfort.
" When my husband died, which was about ten weeks
after we quitted Mrs. Ellison's, of whom I had then a
different opinion from what I have now, I was left in
the most wretched condition imaginable. I believe,
madam, she showed you my letter. Indeed, she did
everything for me at that time which I could have ex-
pected from the best of friends. She supplied me with
money from her own pocket, by which means I was
preserved from a distress, in which I must have other-
wise inevitably perished.
" Her kindness to me in this season of distress pre-
vailed on me to return again to her house. Why, in-
deed, should I have refused an ofler so very convenient
for me to accept, and which seemed so generous in her
to make 1 Here I lived a very retired life, with my
little babe, seeing no company but Mrs. ElUson herself
292 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
for a full quarter of a year. At last, Mrs. Ellison brought
me a parchment from my lord, in which he had settled
upon me, at her instance, as she told me, and as I be-
lieve it was, an annuity of one hundred and fifty pounds
a year. This was, 1 think, the very first time she had
mentioned his hateful name to me since my return to
her house ; and she now prevailed upon me, though I
assure you not without much difficulty, to suffer him to
execute the deed in my presence.
" I will not describe our interview : I am not able to
describe it, and I have often wondered how I have found
spirits to support it. This I will say for him ; that, if he
was not a real penitent, no man alive could act the part
better.
"Besides resentment, I had another motive of my
backwardness to agree to such a meeting; and this was
fear. I apprehended, and surely not without reason,
that the annuity was rather meant as a bribe than a rec-
ompense, and that further designs were laid against
my innocence : but in this I found myself happily de-
ceived ; for neither then, nor at any time since, have I
ever had the least solicitation of that kind ; nor, indeed,
have I seen the least occasion to think my lord had any
such desires.
"Good heavens! what are these men"? what is this
appetite, which must have novelty and resistance for its
provocatives ; and which is delighted with us no longer
than while we may be considered in the light of
enemies V
" I thank you, madam," cries Ameha, " for relieving me
from my fears on your account : I trembled at the conse-
quence of this second acquaintance with such a man,
and in such a situation."
" I assure you, madam, I was in no danger," returned
Mrs. Bennet : " for, besides that I think I could have
pretty well relied on my own resolution, I have heard
since, at St. Edmundsbury,from an intimate acquaintance
of my lord's, who was an entire stranger to my affairs,
that the highest degree of inconstancy is his character ;
and that few of his numberless mistresses have ever re-
ceived a second visit from him.
" Well, madam," continued she, " T think I have little
more to trouble you with ; unless I should relate to you
my long ill state of health, from which I am lately, I
thank Heaven, recovered ; or unless I should mention
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 293
to you the most grievous accident that ever befell me—
the loss of my poor dear Charly." Here she made a
full stop, and the tears ran down into her bosom.
Ameha was silent a few minutes, while she gave the
lady time to vent her passion ; after which she began to
pour forth a vast profusion of acknowledgments for the
trouble she had taken in relating her history ; but chief-
ly for the motive which had induced her to it, and for
the kind warning which she had given her by the little
note which Mrs. Bennet had sent her that morning.
" Yes, madam," cries Mrs. Bennet, '* I am convinced,
by what 1 have lately seen, that you are the destined
sacrifice to this wicked lord; and that Mrs. Ellison,
whom 1 no longer doubt to have been the instrument of
my ruin, intended to betray you in the same manner.
The day I met my lord in your apartment, I began to
entertain some suspicions, and I took Mrs. Ellison very
roundly to task upon them ; her behaviour, notwithstand-
ing many asseverations to the contrary, convinced me I
was right; and I intended, more than once, to speak to
you, but could not ; till last night the mention of the mas-
querade determined me to delay it no longer. I therefore
sent you that note this morning, and am glad you so
luckily discovered the writer, as it has given me this
opportunity of easing my mind, and of honestly showing
you how unworthy 1 am of your friendship, at the same
time that I so earnestly desire it."
Chapter X. — Being the last chapter of the seventh book.
Amelia did not fail to make proper compliments to
Mrs. Bennet on the conclusion of her speech in the last
chapter. She told her that, from the first moment of
her acquaintance, she had the strongest inclination to
her friendship ; and that her desires of that kind were
much increased by hearing her story. " Indeed, madam,"
says she, " you are much too severe a judge on your-
self; for they must have very little candour, in my opin-
ion, who look upon your case with any severe eye. To
me, I assure you, you appear highly the object of com-
passion ; and I shall always esteem you as an innocent
and an unfortunate woman."
Amelia would then have taken her leave ; but Mrs.
25*
294 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
Bennet so strongly pressed her to stay to breakfast,
that at length she compUed : indeed, she had fasted so
long, and her gentle spirits had been so agitated with
a variety of passions, that nature very strongly seconded
Mrs. Bennet's motion.
While the maid was preparing the tea equipage,
Amelia, with a little slyness in her countenance, asked
Mrs. Bennet if Sergeant Atkinson did not lodge in the
same house with her. The other reddened so extremely
at the question, repeated the sergeant's name with such
hesitation, and behaved so awkwardly, that Amelia
wanted no further confirmation of her suspicions. She
would not, however, declare them abruptly to the other,
but began a dissertation on the sergeant's virtues ; and,
after observing the great concern which he had mani-
fested when Mrs. Bennet was in her fit, concluded with
saying she believed the sergeant would make the best
husband in the world; for that he had great tender-
ness of heart, and a gentleness of manners, not often to
be found in any man, and much seldomer in persons of
his rank.
" And why not in his rank V said Mrs. Bennet :
"indeed, Mrs. Booth, we rob the lower order of man-
kind of their due. I do not deny the force and power
of education ; but. when we consider how very inju-
dicious is the education of the better sort in general,
how little they are instructed in the practice of virtue,
we shall not expect to find the heart much improved
by it ; and even as to the head, how very slightly do
we commonly find it improved by what is called a
genteel education ! 1 have myself, 1 think, seen in-
stances of as great goodness, and as great understand-
ing too, among the lower sort of people, as among the
higher. Let us compare your sergeant, now, with the
lord who has been the subject of conversation ; on which
side would an impartial judge decide the balance to
incline ?"
" How monstrous, then," cries Amelia, " is the opinion
of those who consider our matching ourselves the least
below us in degree as a kind of contamination !"
"A most absurd and preposterous sentiment," an-
swered Mrs. Bennet, warmly: "how abhorrent from
justice, from common sense, and from humanity ! — but
how extremely incongruous with a religion which pro-
fesses to know no difference of degree, but ranks all
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 295
mankind on the footing' of brethren ! Of all kinds of
pride, there is none so unchristian as that of station ;
in reality, there is none so contemptible. Contempt,
indeed, may be said to be its own object : for my own
part, I know none so despicable as those who despise
others."
" I do assure you," said Amelia, " you speak my own
sentiments. I give you my word, I should not be asha-
med of being the wife of an honest man in any station ;
nor, if 1 had been much higher than I was, should I have
thought myself degraded by calling our honest sergeant
my husband."
" Since you have made this declaration," cries Mrs.
Bennet, " 1 am sure you will not be offended at a secret
I am going to mention to you."
" Indeed, my dear," answered Amelia, smiling, " I
wonder rather you have concealed it so long, especially
after the many hints I have given you."
" Nay, pardon me, madam," replied the other: " I do
not remember any such hints ; and, perhaps, you do not
even guess at what I am going to say. My secret is
this : that no woman ever had so sincere, so passionate
a lover as you have had in the sergeant."
"la lover in the sergeant ! — I !" cries Amelia, a little
surprised.
" Have patience," answered the other ; " I say you,
my dear. As much surprised as you appear, I tell you
no more than the truth ; and yet it is a truth you could
hardly expect to hear from me, especially with so
much good-humour; since I will honestly confess to
you But what need have I to confess what I know
you guess already ? Tell me now, sincerely, don't you
guess V
" I guess, indeed, and hope," said she, " that he is your
husband."
" He is, indeed, my husband," cries the other ; " and
I am most happy in your approbation : in honest truth,
you ought to approve my choice, since you was every
way the occasion of my making it. What you said of
him very greatly recommended him to my opinion ; but
he endeared himself to me most by what he said of you.
In short, I have discovered, he has always loved you
with such a faithful, honest, noble, generous passion, that
I was consequently convinced his mind must possess all
the ingredients of such a passion ; and what are these,
.
296 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
but true honour, goodness, modesty, bravery, tenderness,
and, in a word, every human virtue ? Forgive me, my
dear; but I was uneasy till I became myself the object
of such a passion."
" And do you really think," said Amelia, smiling, " that
I shall forgive you robbing me of such a lover 1 or, sup-
posing what you banter me with was true, do you really
imagifie you could change such a passion T'
"No, my dear," answered the other; "I only hope
I have changed the object : for, be assured, there is no
greater vulgar error than that it is impossible for a
man who loves one v»'oman ever to love another. On
the contrary, it is certain, that a man who can love one
woman so well at a distance, will love another better
that is nearer to him. Indeed, I have heard one of
the best husbands in the world declare, in the presence
of his wife, that he had always loved a princess with
adoration. These passions, which reside only in
very amorous and very delicate minds, feed only on
the delicacies there growing ; and leave all the sub-
stantial food, and enough of the delicacy too, for the
wife."
The tea being now ready, Mrs. Bennet, or, if you
please, for the future, j\trs. Atkinson, proposed to call
in her husband ; but Amelia objected. She said she
should be glad to see him any other time ; but was then
in the utmost hurry, as she had been three hours absent
from all she most loved. However, she had scarce
drunk a dish of tea before she changed her mind ; and,
saying she would not part man and wife, desired Mr.
Atkinson might appear.
The maid answered that her master was not at home :
which words she had scarce spoken, when he knocked
hastily at the door, and immediately came running into
the room, all pale and breathless ; and, addressing him-
self to Amelia, cried out, " I am sorry, my dear lady, to
bring you ill news: but Captain Booth — " "What!
what !" cries Amelia, dropping the teacup from her hand ;
*'is anything the matter with him ?" " Don't be fright-
ened, my dear lady," said the sergeant : " he is in very
good health ; but a misfortune has happened." " Are my
children well "?" said Amelia. " Oh, very well," answered
the sergeant : " pray, madam, don't be frightened ; I
hope it will signify nothing : he is arrested ; but I hope
to get him out of their d — ned hands immediately."
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 297
*' Where is he V cries Amelia ; " I will go to him this in-
stant." " He begs you will not," answered the sergeant :
" I have sent his lawyer to him, and am going back with
Mrs. Ellison this moment ; but I beg your ladyship, for
his sake, and for your own sake, not to go." " Mrs.
EUison! what is Mrs. Ellison to do V cries Amelia;
"1 must and will go." Mrs. Atkinson then interposed,
and begged that she would not hurry her spirits, but
compose herself, and go home to her children, whither
she would attend her. She comforted her with the
thoughts that the captain was in no immediate danger ;
that she could go to him when she would ; and desired
her to let the sergeant return with Mrs. Ellison ; saying,
she might be of service, and that there was much wis-
dom, and no kind of shame, in making use of bad people
on certain occasions.
" And who," cries Amelia, a little come to herself,
" has done this barbarous action V
*' One 1 am ashamed to name," cries the sergeant ;
" indeed, I had always a very different opinion of him.
1 could not have believed anything but my own ears
and eyes ; but Dr. Harrison is the man who has done
the deed."
" Dr. Harrison !" cries Amelia ; *' well, then, there is
an end of all goodness in the world. I will never have
a good opinion of any human being more."
The sergeant begged that he might not be detained
from the captain ; and that if Amelia pleased to go home,
he would wait upon her. But she did not choose to see
Mrs. Ellison at this time ; and, after a little considera-
tion, she resolved to stay where she was ; and Mrs. At-
kinson agreed to go and fetch her children to her, it
being not many doors distant.
The sergeant then departed ; Amelia, in her confusion,
never having once thought of wishing him joy on his
marriage.
N3
298 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
BOOK Y 1 1 1.
Chapter I.— Being the first chapter of the eighth book.
The history must now look a little backward to those
circumstances which led to the catastrophe mentioned
at the end of the last book.
When Amelia went out in the morning, she left her
children to the care of her husband. In this amiable of-
fice he had been engaged near an hour ; and was, at that
very time, lying along on the floor, and his little things
crawling and playing about him, when a most violent
knock was heard at the door ; and immediately a foot-
man, running up stairs, acquainted him that his lady
was taken violently ill, and carried into Mrs. Chenevix's
toy-shop.
Booth no sooner heard this account, which was de-
livered with great appearance of haste and earnestness,
than he leaped suddenly up from the floor ; and, leaving
his children, roaring at the news of their mother's ill-
ness, in strict charge with the maid, he ran as fast as
his legs could carry him to the place, or towards the
place rather ; for, before he arrived at the shop, a gen-
tleman stopped him full butt, crying, " Captain, whither
so fast V Booth answered eagerly, " Whoever you are,
friend, don't ask me any questions now." "You must
pardon me, captain," answered the gentleman ; " but I
have a little business with your honour : in short, cap-
tain, I have a small warrant here in my pocket against
your honour, at the suit of one Dr. Harrison.'' '' You
are a bailiff then]'' says Booth. '• I am an officer, sir,"
answered the other. '" Well, sir, it is in vain to con-
tend," cries Booth; " but let me beg you will permit me
only to step to Mrs. Chenevix's : I will attend you, upon
my honour, wherever you please ; but my wife lies vio-
lently ill there." " Oh, for that matter," answered the
bailiff, "you may set your heart at ease : your lady, I
hope, is very well. I assure you she is not there ; you
will excuse me, captain, these are only stratagems of
war. Bolus and virtus, quis in a hostess equirit V " Sir,
I honour your learning," cries Booth, " and could almost
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 299
kiss you for what you tell me. I assure you, I would
forgive you five hundred arrests for such a piece of
news. Well, sir, and whither am I to go with you]"
" Oh, anywhere ; where your honour pleases," cries the
bailiff. " Then suppose we go to Brown's coffee-house V
said the prisoner. " No," answered the bailiff, " that
will not do ; that's in the verge of the court." " Why,
then, to the nearest tavern," said Booth. " No, not to
a tavern," cries the other; " that is not a place of secu-
rity ; and you know, captain, your honour is a shy cock :
I have been after your honour these three months.
Come, sir, you must go to my house, if you please."
*' With all my heart," answered Booth, " if it be any-
where hereabouts." " Oh, it is but a little ways off,"
replied the bailiff; "it is only in Gray's Inn-lane, just
by almost." He then called a coach, and desired his
prisoner to walk in.
Booth entered the coach without any resistance,
which, had he been inchned to make, he must have
plainly perceived would have been ineffectual, as the
bailiff appeared to have several followers at hand, two
of whom, besides the commander-in-chief, mounted
with him into the coach. As Booth was a sweet-tem-
pered man, as well as somewhat of a philosopher, he be-
haved with all the good-humour imaginable, and, indeed,
with more than his companions, who, however, showed
him what they call civility ; that is, they neither struck
him nor spit in his face.
Notwithstanding the pleasantry which Booth endeav-
oured to preserve, he in reality envied every labourer
whom he saw pass bj' him in his way. The charms of
liberty, against his will, rushed on his njind ; and he
could not avoid suggesting to himself, how much more
happy was the poorest wretch who, without control,
could repair to his homely habitation and to his family,
compared to him, who was thus violently and yet law-
fully torn away from the company of his wife and chil-
dren ; and their condition, especially that of his Amelia,
gave his heart many a severe and bitter pang.
At length he arrived at the bailiff's mansion, and wa^
ushered into a room in which were several persons.
Booth desired to be alone ; upon which the baihff waited
on him up stairs, into an apartment, the windows of
which were well fortified with iron bars, but the walls
had not the least outwork raised before them ; they were
300 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
indeed what is generally called naked ; the bricks having
been only covered with a thin plaster, which in many
places was mouldered away.
The first demand made upon Booth was for coach-hire,
which amounted to two shillings, according to the bailiff's
account; that being just double the legal fare. He was
then asked if he did not choose a bowl of punch; to
which he having answered in the negative, the bailiff
replied, " Nay, sir, just as you please. 1 don't ask you
to drink, if you don't choose it ; but certainly you know
the custom : the house is full of prisoners, and I can't
afford gentlemen a room to themselves for nothing."
Booth presently took this hint, (indeed, it was a pretty
broad one,) and told the bailiff he should not scruple to
pay him his price ; but in fact he never drank, unless at
his meals. " As to that, sir," cries the bailiff, " it is just
as your honour pleases. I scorn to impose upon any
gentleman in misfortunes : I wish you well out of them,
for my part. Your honour can take nothing amiss of
me ; I only does my duty, what I am bound to do ; and
as you says you don't care to drink anything, what will
you be pleased to have for dinner V
Booth then complied in bespeaking a dish of meat, and
told the bailiff he would drink a bottle with him after
dinner. He then desired the favour of pen, ink, and
paper, and a messenger; all which were immediately
procured him, the bailiff telling him he might send wher-
ever he pleased, and repeating his concern for Booth's
misfortunes, and a hearty desire to see the end of them.
The messenger was just despatched with the letter,
when who should arrive but honest Atkinson. A sol-
dier of the guards, belonging to the same company with
the sergeant, and who had known Booth at Gibraltar, had
seen the arrest, and heard the orders given to the coach-
man. This fellow, accidentally meeting Atkinson, had
acquainted him with the whole affair.
At the appearance of Atkinson, joy immediately over-
spread the countenance of Booth. The ceremonials
which passed between them are unnecessary to be re-
peated. Atkinson was soon despatched to the attorney
and to Mrs. Ellison, as the roader has before heard from
his own mouth.
Booth now greatly lamented that he had written to
his wife ; he thought she might have been acquainted
with the affair better by the sergeant. Booth begged him,
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 301
however, to do everything in his power to comfort her ;
to assure her that he was in perfect health and good
spirits; and to lessen, as much as possible, the concern
which he knew she would have at reading his letter.
The sergeant, however, as the reader has seen, brought
himself the first account of the arrest ; indeed, the other
messenger did not arrive till a full hour afterward.
This was not owing to any slowness of his, but to many
previous errands which he was to execute before the
delivery of the letter ; for, notwithstanding the earnest
desire which the bailiff had declared to see Booth out of
his troubles, he had ordered the porter, who was his fol-
lower, to call upon two or three other bailiffs, and as
many attorneys, to try to load his prisoner with as many
actions as possible.
Here the reader may be apt to conclude that the bai-
liff, instead of being a friend, was really an enemy to
poor Booth; but in fact he was not so. His desire was
no more than to accumulate bail-bonds ; for the bailiff
was reckoned an honest and good sort of man in his way,
and had no more malice against the bodies in his cus-
tody, than a butcher has to those in his ; and as the latter,
when he takes the kjnife in his hand, has no idea but of
the joints into which he is to cut the carcass, so the for-
mer, when he handles his writ, has no other design but
to cut out the body into as many bail-bonds as possible.
As to the life of the animal, or the liberty of the man,
they are thoughts which never obtrude themselves on
either.
Chapter II. — Containing an account of Mr. Booth's fellow-sufferers.
Before we return to Amelia, we must detain our read-
er a little longer with Mr. Booth, in the custody of Mr.
Bondum, the bailiff, who now informed his prisoner that
he was welcome to the liberty of the house with the
other gentlemen.
Booth asked who these gentlemen were. "One of
them, sir," says Mr. Bondum, " is a very great writer, or
author, as they call him : he has been here these five
weeks, at the suit of a bookseller, for eleven pounds odd
money ; but he expects to be discharged in a day or two,
for he has written out the debt. He is now writing for
26
302 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
five or six booksellers, and he will get you sometimes,
when he sits to it, a matter of fifteen shillings a day ; for
he is a very good pen, they say, but is apt to be idle.
Some days he won't write above five hours ; but at other
times I have known him at it above sixteen." "Ay!"
cries Booth, " pray what are his productions 1 What
does he write V "Why, sometimes," answered Bondum,
" he writes your history books for your numbers, and
sometimes your verses, your poems, what do you call
them 1 and then again he writes news for your news-
papers." " Ah, indeed ! he is a most extraordinary man,
truly. How does he get his news here V " Why, he
makes it, as he does your parliament speeches for your
magazines. He reads them to us sometimes over a
bowl of punch. To be sure, it is all one as if one was
in the parliament-house ; it is about liberty and freedom,
and about the constitution of England. I say nothing,
for my part ; for I will keep my neck out of a halter :
but, faith, he makes it out plainly to me that all matters
are not as they should be. I am all for liberty, for my
part." " Is that so consistent with your calling?" cries
Booth; "I thought, my friend, you had lived by depri-
ving men of their liberty." "That's another matter,"
cries the bailiff; " that's all according to law, and in the
way of business. To be sure, men must be obliged to
pay their debts, or else there would be an end of every-
thing." Booth desired the bailiff to give him his opinion
of liberty : upon which he hesitated a moment, and then
cried out, " Oh, it is a fine thing, it is a very fine thing, and
the constitution of England." Booth told him, that by
the old constitution of England, he had heard that men
could not be arrested for debt ; to which the bailiff an-
swered, that must have been in very bad times ; " because
as why," says he, " would it not be the hardest thing in
the world if a man could not arrest another for a just and
lawful debt T besides, sir, you must be mistaken, for how
could that ever be ? Is not liberty the constitution of Eng-
land ? well, and is not the constitution, as a man may say,
whereby the constitution, that is the law and liberty,
and all that—"
Booth had a little mercy upon the poor bailiff when he
found him rounding in this manner, and told him he had
made the matter very clear. Booth then proceeded to
inquire after the other gentlemen, his fellows in afliic-
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 303
tioii; upon which Bondum acquainted him, that one of
the prisoners was a poor fellow. " He calls himself a
gentleman," said Bondum ; " but I am sure I never saw
anything genteel by him. In a week that he has been
in my house, he has drunk only part of one bottle of
wine. 1 intend to carry him to Newgate within a day
or two, if he cannot find bail, which, I suppose, he will
not be able to do ; for everybody says he is an undone
man. He has run out all he has by losses in business,
and one way or other; and he has a wife and seven
children. Here was the whole family here the other
day, all howling together. I never saw such abeggarly
crew ; I was almost ashamed to see them in my house:
I thought they seemed fitter for Bridewell than any other
place. To be sure, I do not reckon him as proper com-
pany for such as you, sir ; but there is another prisoner
in the house that I dare say you will like very much.
He is, indeed, very much of a gentleman, and spends
his money like one: 1 have had him only three days,
and I am afraid he won't stay much longer. They say,
indeed, he is a gamester ; but what is that to me or any
one, as long as a man appears as a gentleman ] 1 al-
ways love to speak by people as I find : and, in my opin-
ion, he is fit company for the greatest lord in the land ;
for he has very good clothes, and money enough. He
is not here for debt, but upon a judge's warrant for an
assault and battery; for the tipstaff locks up here."
The bailiflfwas thus haranguing, when he was inter-
rupted by the arrival of the attorney, whom the trusty
sergeant had, with the utmost expedition, found out, and
despatched to the relief of his distressed friend. But,
before we proceed any further with the captain, we will
return to poor Amelia, for whom, considering the situa-
tion in which we left her, the good-natured reader may
be, perhaps, in no small degree solicitous.
Chapter III.— Containing some extraordinary behaviour in Mrs.
Ellison.
The sergeant being departed to convey Mrs. Ellison
to the captain, his wife went to fetch Ameha's children
to their mother.
Amelia's concern for the distresses of her husband
304 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
was aggravated at the sight of her children. " Good
heavens!" she cried, " what wi]i, what can become of
these poor little wretches 1 why have 1 produced these
little creatures only to give them a share of poverty
and misery?" At which words she embraced them
eagerly in her arms, and bedewed them both with her
tears.
The children's eyes soon overflowed as fast as their
mother's, though neither of them knew the cause of
her affliction. The little boy, who was the elder, and
much the sharper of the two, imputed the agonies of
his mother to her illness, according to the account
brought to his father in his presence.
When Amelia became acquainted with the child's
apprehensions, she soon satisfied him that she was in a
perfect state of health ; at which the Uttle thing ex-
pressed great satisfaction, and said, he was glad she
was well again. Amelia told him she had not been in
the least disordered. Upon which, the innocent cried
out, " La ! how can people tell such fibs 1 a great tall
man told my papa you was taken very ill at Mrs. Some-
body's shop ; and my poor papa presentlj^ ran down
stairs — I was afraid he would have broken his neck — to
come to you."
" Oh ihe villains !" cries Mrs. Atkinson : " what a
stratagem was here to take away your husband !"
" Take away V answered the child : " what, has any-
body taken away papa? — sure, that naughty, fibbing
man has not taken away papaT"
Amelia begged Mrs. Atkinson to say something to
her children ; for that her spirits were overpowered.
She then threw herself into a chair, and gave a full vent
to a passion almost too strong for her delicate consti-
tution.
The scene that followed, during some minutes, is
beyond my power of description ; 1 must beg the readers'
hearts to suggest it to themselves. The children hung
on the mother, whom they endeavoured in vain to com-
fort ; as Mrs. Atkinson did in vain attempt to pacify
them, telling them all would be well, and they would
soon see their papa again.
At length, partly by the persuasions of Mrs. Atkinson
partly from consideration of her little ones, and more,
perhaps, from the relief which she had acquired by her
tears, Amelia became a little composed.
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 305
NothiiifT worth notice passed in this miserable com-
pany from this time till the return of Mrs. Ellison from
the bailiff's house ; and to draw out scenes of wretch-
edness to too great a length is a task very uneasy to
the writer, and for which none but readers of a most
gloomy complexion will think themselves ever obliged
to his labours.
At length Mrs. Ellison arrived, and entered the room
with an air of gayety, rather misbecoming the occasion.
When she had seated herself in a chair, she told Amelia
that the captain was very well, and in good spirits ; and
that he earnestly desired her to keep up hers. " Come,
madam," said she, " don't be disconsolate ; I hope we
shall soon be able to get him out of his troubles. The
debts, indeed, amount to more than I expected ; how-
ever, ways may be found to redeem him. He must own
himself guilty of some rashness in going out of the verge,
when he knew to what he was liable; but that is now
not to be remedied. If he had followed my advice, this
had not happened ; but men will be headstrong."
" I cannot bear this," cries Amelia : " shall I hear
that best of creatures blamed for his tenderness to me ]"
" Well, I will not blame him," answered Mrs. Elli-
son ; " I am sure I propose nothing but to serve him ;
and if you will do as much to serve him yourself, he will
not be long a prisoner."
" I do ]" cries Amelia ; " oh heavens ! is there a thing
upon earth — "
" Yes, there is a thing upon earth," said Mrs. Ellison,
*' and a very easy thing too ; and yet, I will venture my
life, you start when 1 propose it. And yet, when I con-
sider that you are a woman of understanding, I know
not why I should think so ; for sure you must have too
much good sense to imagine that you can cry your hus-
band out of prison. If this would have done, I see you
have almost cried your eyes out already. And yet you
may do the business by a much pleasanter way than by
crying and bawling."
" What do you mean, madam V cries Amelia. " For
my part, 1 cannot guess your meaning."
" Before I tell you, then, madanf," answered Mrs.
Ellison, " I must inform you, if you do not already know
it, that the captain is charged with actions to the amount
of near five hundred pounds. I am sure I would wil-
lingly be his bail ; but I know my bail would not be taken
26*
306 THE HISTORY OP AMELIA.
for that sum. You must consider, therefore, madam^
what chance you have of redeeming him ; unless you
choose, as perhaps some wives would, that he should
lie all his life in prison."
At these words Amelia discharged a shower of tears,
and gave every mark of the most frantic grief.
" Why, there now," cries Mrs. Ellison, " while you
will indulge these extravagant passions, how can you
be capable of listening to the voice of reason I 1 know
I am a fool in concerning myself thus with the affairs
of others. I know the thankless office I undertake ;
and yet I love you so, my dear Mrs. Booth, that I can-
not bear to see you afflicted ; and I would comfort you,
if you would suffer me. Let me beg you to make your
mind easy ; and within these two days I will engage to
set your husband at liberty. Harkee, child, only be-
have like a woman of spirit this evening, and keep your
appointment, notwithstanding what has happened ; and
I am convinced there is one, who has the power and the
will to serve you."
Mrs. Ellison spoke the latter part of her speech in a
whisper, so that Mrs. Atkinson, who was then engaged
with the children, might not hear her ; but Amelia an-
swered aloud, and said, " What appointment would you
have me keep this evening V
" Nay, nay, if you have forgotten," cries Mrs. Ellison,
" I will tell you more another time ; but come, will you
go home 1 my dinner is ready by this time, and you
shall dine with me."
" Talk not to me of dinners," cries Amelia ; " my
stomach is too full already."
" Nay, but, dear madam," answered Mrs. EUison,
" let me beseech you to go home with me. 1 do not
care," says she, w^hispering, "to speak before some
folks."
" I have no secret, madam, in the world," replied
Amelia, aloud, " which I would not communicate to
this lady ; for I shall always acknowledge the highest
obligation to her for the secrets she has imparted to
me."
*' Madam," says Mrs. Ellison, " I do not interfere
with obligations. I am glad the lady has obliged you
so much; and I wish all people were equally mindful
of obligations. I hope I have omitted no opportunity
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 307
of endeavouring to oblige Mrs. Booth, as well as I have
some other folks."
"If by other folks, madam, you mean me," cries Mrs.
Atkinson, " I confess 1 sincerely believe you intended
the same obligations to us both ; and I have the pleasure
to think it is owing to me that this lady is not as much
obliged to you as I am."
" I protest, madam, I can hardly guess your mean-
ing," said Mrs. Ellison. " Do you really intend to
affront me, madam V
" I intend to preserve innocence and virtue, if it be
in my power, madam," answered the other ; •* and sure
nothing but the most eager resolution to destroy it could
induce you to mention such an appointment at such a
time."
" I did not expect this treatment from you, madam,"
cries Mrs. Ellison : " such ingratitude I could not have
believed, had it been reported to me by any other."
" Such impudence," answered Mrs. Atkinson, " must
exceed, I think, all belief; but when women once
abandon that modesty which is the characteristic of
Iheir sex, they seldom set any bounds to their assu-
rance."
*' I could not have believed this to have been in human
nature," cries Mrs. Ellison. " Is this the woman whom
I have fed, have clothed, have supported ; who owes to
my charity, and my intercessions, that she is not at this
day destitute of all the necessaries of life?"
" I own it all," answered Mrs. Atkinson ; " and I add
the favour of a masquerade ticket to the number.
Could I have thought, madam, that you would before
my face have asked another lady to go to the same
place with the same man ? But 1 ask your pardon ; I
impute rather more assurance to you than you are mis-
tress of. You have endeavoured to keep the assigna-
tion a secret from me, and it was by mere accident only
that 1 discovered it; unless there are some guardian
angels that in general protect innocence and virtue ;
though, I may say, I have not always found them so
watchful."
"Indeed, madam," said Mrs. Ellison, "you are not
worth my answer, nor will I stay a moment longer with
such a person. So, Mrs. Booth, you have your choice,
madam, whether you will go with me, or remain in the
company of this lady."
308 THE HISTORY OP AMELIA.
" If SO, madam," answered Mrs. Booth, " I shall not
be long in determining to stay where I am."
Mrs. Ellison then, casting a look of great indignation
at both the ladies, made a short speech full of invectives
against Mrs. Atkinson, and not without oblique hints of
ingratitude against poor Amelia; after which, she burst
out of the room, and out of the house ; and made haste
to her own home, in a condition of mind, to which for-
tune, without guilt, cannot, 1 believe, reduce any one.
Indeed, how much the superiority of misery is on
the side of wickedness, may appear to every reader
who will compare the present situation of Amelia with
that of Mrs. Ellison. Fortune had attacked the former
with almost the highest degree of her malice. She was
involved in a scene of most exquisite distress; and her
husband, her principal comfort, torn violently from her
arms ; yet her sorrow, however exquisite, was all soft
and tender ; nor was she without many consolations.
Her case, however hard, was not absolutely desperate ;
for scarce any condition of fortune can be so. Art and
industry, chance and friends, have often relieved the
most distressed circumstances, and converted them into
opulence. In all these she had hopes on this side the
grave, and perfect virtue and innocence gave her the
strongest assurances on the other. Whereas, in the
bosom of Mrs. Ellison, all was storm and tempest ;
anger, revenge, fear, and pride, like so many raging
furies, possessed her mind, and tortured her with disap-
pointment and shame. Loss of reputation, which is
generally irreparable, was to be her lot ; loss of friends
is of this the certain consequence : all on this side the
grave appeared dreary and comfortless, and endless
misery on the other closed the gloomy prospect.
Hence, my wrothy reader, console thyself, that how-
ever few of the other good things of life are thy lot, the
best of all things, which is innocence, is always within
thy own power ; and though Fortune may make thee
often unhappy, she can never make thee completely
and irreparably miserable without thy own consent.
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 309
Chapter IV. — Containing, among many matters, the exemplary
behaviour of Colonel James.
When Mrs. Ellison was departed, Mrs. Atkinson began
to apply all her art to sooth and comfort Amelia; but
was presently prevented by her: " 1 am ashamed, dear
madam," said Amelia, " of having indulged my affliction
so much at your expense. The suddenness of the oc-
casion is my only excuse ; for, had I had time to sum-
mon my resolution to my assistance, I hope I am mis-
tress of more patience than you have hitherto seen me
exert. I know, madam, in my unwarrantable excesses,
I have been guilty of many transgressions ; first, against
that divine will and pleasure, without whose permission,
at least, no human accident can happen; in the next
place, madam, if anything can aggravate such a fault, I
have transgressed the laws of friendship as well as de-
cency, in throwing upon you some part of the load of
my grief; and again, I have sinned against common
sense, which should teach me, instead of weakly and
heavily lamenting my misfortunes, to rouse all my spir-
its to remove them. In this light, I am shocked at my
own folly, and am resolved to leave my children under
your care, and go directly to my husband. I may com-
fort him : I may assist him: I may relieve him. There
is nothing now too difficult for me to undertake."
Mrs. Atkinson greatly approved and complimented her
friend on all the former part of her speech, except on
what related to herself, on which she spoke very civilly,
and, I believe, with great truth ; but as to her determina-
tion of going to her husband, she endeavoured to dis-
suade her, at least she begged her to defer it for the pres-
ent, and till the sergeant returned home. She then re-
minded Amelia that it was now past five in the after-
noon, and that she had not taken any refreshment but a
dish of tea the whole day ; and desired she would give
her leave to procure her a chicken, or anything she liked
better, for her dinner.
Amelia thanked her friend, and said she would sit
down with her to whatever she pleased ; " but if I do
not eat," said she, " I would not have you impute it to
anything but want of appetite ; for I assure you, all
things are equally indifferent to me. I am more solicit-
310 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
ous about these poor little things, who have not been
used to fast so long-. Heaven knows what may here-
after be their fate."
Mrs. Atkinson bid her hope the best, and then recom-
mended her children to the care of her maid.
And now arrived a servant from Mrs. James, with an
invitation to Captain Booth and to his lady to dine with
the colonel the da}^ after the next. This a little per-
plexed Amelia; but after a short consideration, she de-
spatched an answer to Mrs. James, in which she con-
ciselj^ informed her of what had happened.
The honest sergeant, who had been on his legs almost
the whole day, now returned, and brought Amelia a
short letter from her husband; in which he gave her the
most solemn assurances of his health and spirits; and
begged her, with great earnestness, to take care to pre-
serve her own; which if she did, he said he had no
doubt but that they should shortly be happy. He added
somethhig of hopes from my lord, with which Mrs. Elli-
son had amused him ; and which served only to destroy
the comfort that Amelia received from the rest of his
letter.
While Amelia, the sergeant, and his lady were en-
gaged in a cold collation, for which purpose a cold
chicken was procured from the tavern for the ladies, and
two pounds of cold beef for the sergeant, a violent
knocking was heard at the door, and presently after-
ward Colonel James entered the room. After proper
compliments had passed, the colonel told Amelia that
her letter was brought to Mrs. James while the}' were
at table, and that on her showing it to him, he had im-
mediately rose up, made an apology to his company, and
took a chair to her. He spoke to her with great tender-
ness on the occasion, and desired her to make herself
easy ; assuring her that he would leave nothing in his
power undone to serve her husband. He then gave her
an invitation, in his wife's name, to his own house, in
the most pressing manner.
Amelia returned iiim very hearty thanks for all his
kind offers, but begged to decline that of an apartment
in his house. She said, as she could not leave her chil-
dren, so neither could she think of bringing such a trou-
ble with her into his family ; and though the colonel
gave her many assurances that her children, as well as
herself, would be very welcome to Mrs. James, and even
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 311
betook himself to entreaties, she still persisted obsti-
nately ill her refusal.
In real truth, Amelia had taken a vast affection for
Mrs. Atkinson, of the comfort of whose company she
could not bear to be deprived in her distress ; nor to ex-
change it for that of Mrs. James, to whom she had late-
ly conceived no little dislike.
The colonel, when he found he could not prevail with
Amelia to accept his invitation, desisted from any fur-
ther sohcitations. He then took a bank-bill of fifty
pounds from his pocketbook, and said, " You will par-
don me, dear madam, if I choose to impute your refusal
of my house rather to a dislike of my wife, whom I will
not pretend to be the most agreeable of w^omen, (all
men," said he, sighing, " have not Captain Booth's for-
tune,) than to any aversion or anger to me ; I must in-
sist upon it, therefore, to make your present habitation
as easy to you as possible : I hope, madam, you will
not deny me this happiness ; I beg you will honour me
with the acceptance of this trifle." He then put the
note into her hand, and declared that the honour of
touching it was worth a hundred times that sum.
" I protest. Colonel James," cries Amelia, blushing,
" I know not what to do or say, your goodness so great-
ly confounds me. Can I, who am so well acquainted
with the many great obligations Mr. Booth has already
to your generosity, consent that you should add more to
a debt we never can pay ]"
The colonel stopped her short, protesting that she
misplaced the obligation ; for that, if to confer the high-
est happiness was to oblige, he was obliged to her ac-
ceptance. " And I do assure you, madam," said he, " if
this trifling sum, or a much larger, can contribute to
your ease, I shall consider myself as the happiest man
upon earth in being able to supply it ; and you, madam,
my greatest benefactor in receiving it."
Ameha then put the note into her pocket; and they
entered into a conversation, in which many civil things
were said on both sides ; but what was chiefly worth
remark was, that Amelia had almost her husband con-
stantly in her mouth, and the colonel never mentioned
him : the former seemed desirous to lay all obligations,
as much as possible, to the account of her husband ;
and the latter endeavoured, with the utmost delicacy,
312 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
to insinuate that her happiness was the main, and in-
deed only point, which he had in view.
Amelia had made no doubt, at the colonel's first ap-
pearance, but that he intended to go directly to her hus-
band : when he dropped therefore a hint of his intention
to visit him next morning, she appeared visibly shocked
at the delay. The colonel, perceiving this, said, " How-
ever inconvenient it may be, yet, madam, if it will oblige
you, or if you desire it, 1 will even go to-night." Amelia
answered, " My husband will be far from desiring to de-
rive any good from your inconvenience ; but if you put
it to me, I must be excused by saying, I desire nothing
more in the world than to send him so great a comfort
as 1 know he will receive from the presence of such a
friend." " Then to show^ you, madam," cries the colo-
nel, " that 1 desire nothing more in the world than to
give you pleasure, 1 will go to him immediately."
Amelia then bethought herself of the sergeant, and
told the colonel, his old acquaintance Atkinson, whom
he had known at Gibraltar, was then in the house, and
would conduct him to the place. The sergeant was im-
mediately called in, paid his respects to the colonel, and
was acknowledged by him. They both immediately
set forward, Amelia to the utmost of her power pressing
their departure.
Mrs. Atkinson now returned to Amelia, and was by
her acquainted with the colonel's late generosity; for
her heart so boiled over with gratitude, that she could
not conceal the ebullition. Amelia likewise gave her
friend a full narrative of the colonel's former behaviour
and friendship to her husband, as well abroad as in Eng-
land ; and ended with declaring that she believed him to
be the most generous man upon earth.
Mrs. Atkinson agreed with AmeUa's conclusion, and
said she was glad to hear there was any such man.
They then proceeded with the children to the tea-table,
where panegyric, and not scandal, was the topic of their
conversation ; and of this panegyric the colonel was the
subject; both the ladies seeming to vie with each other
in celebrating the praises of his goodness.
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 313
Chapter V. — Comments upon authors.
Having left Amelia in as comfortable a situation as
could possibly be expected, her immediate distresses
relieved, and her heart filled with great hopes from the
friendship of the colonel, we will now return to Booth,
who, when the attorney and sergeant had left him, re-
ceived a visit from that great author, of whom honour-
able mention is made in our second chapter.
Booth, as the reader may be pleased to remember,
was a pretty good master of the classics ; for his father,
though he designed his son for the army, did not think
it necessary to breed him up a blockhead. He did
not, perhaps, imagine that a competent share of Latin
and Greek would make his son either a pedant or a
coward : he considered likewise, probably, that the life
of a soldier is, in general, a life of idleness ; and might
think, that the spare hours of an officer in country quar-
ters would be as well employed with a book as in saun-
tering about the streets, loitering in a coffee-house, sot-
ting in a tavern, or in laying schemes to debauch and
ruin a set of harmless, ignorant country girls.
As Booth was therefore what might be well called, in
this age at least, a man of learning, he began to dis-
course with our author on subjects of literature. " T
think, sir," says he, " that Dr. Swift has been generally
allowed by the critics in this kingdom to be the great-
est master of humour that ever wrote. Indeed, I allow
him to have possessed most admirable talents of this
kind; and if Rabelais was his master, I think he proves
the truth of the common Greek proverb. That the scholar
is often superior to the master. As to Cervantes, I do
not think we can make any just comparison; for though
Mr. Pope compUments him with sometimes taking Cer-
vantes' serious air — " "1 remember the passage," cries
the author ;
" ' Oh thou, whatever title please thine ear,
Dean, Drapier, Bickerstaff, or Gulliver;
Whether you take Cervantes' serious air.
Or laugh and shake in Rabelais' easy chair.' "
" You are right, sir," said Booth ; " but though I should
agree that the doctor has sometimes condescended to
27 O
314 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
imitate Rabelais, I do not remember to have seen in his
works the least attempt in the manner of Cervantes.
But there is one in his own way, and whom 1 am con-
vinced he studied above all others; you guess, I believe,
I am going to name Lucian. This author, I say, I am
convinced he followed ; but I think he followed him at
a distance ; as, to say the truth, every other writer of
this kind has done in my opinion ; for none, I think,
has yet equalled him. 1 agree, indeed, entirely with
Mr. Moyle, in his discourse on the age of the Philopa-
tris, when he gives him the epithet of the incomparable
Lucian ; and incomparable, I believe, he will remain as
long as the langUHge in which he wrote shall endure.
What an inimitable piece of humour is his Cock !" " I
remember it very well," cries the author ; " his story of
a Cock and a Bull is excellent." Booth stared at this,
and asked the author what he meant by the Bull.
'• Nay," answered he, " I don't know very well, upon
my soul ; it is a long time since I read him : I learned
him all over at school ; I have not read him much since.
And pray, sir," said he, " how do you like his Pharsalia 1
don't you think Mr. Rowe's translation a very fine
one?'' Booth replied, "I believe we are talking of dif-
ferent authors. The Pharsalia, which Mr. Rowe trans-
lated, was written by Lucan; but I have been speaking
of Lucian, a Greek writer, and, in my opinion, the
greatest in the humorous way that ever the world pro-
duced." "Ay!" cries the author, *' he was indeed so, a
very excellent writer indeed. I fancy a translation of
him would sell very well." " I do not know, indeed,"
cries Booth; "a good translation of him would be a
valuable book. 1 have seen a wretched one published
by Mr, Dryden, but translated by others, who in many
places have misunderstood Lucian's meaning, and have
nowhere preserved the spirit of the original." "That
is a great pity," says the author : " pray, sir, is he well
translated into French?" Booth answered, he could not
tell ; but that he doubted it very much, having never
seen a good version into that language out of the Greek.
" To confess the truth, I believe," said he, " the French
translators have generally consulted the Latin only;
which, in some of the few Greek writers I have read, is
intolerably bad : and as the English translators, for the
most part, pursue the French, we may easily guess
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 315
what spirit those copies of bad copies must preserve of
the original."
"Eg-ad, you are a shrewd guesser," cries the author:
"I am glad the booksellers have not your sagacity.
But how should it be otherwise, considering the price
they pay by the sheet ? The Greek, you will allow, is
a hard language ; and there are few gentlemen that write
who can read it without a good lexicon. Now, sir, if
we were to afford time to find out the true meaning of
words, a gentleman would not get bread and cheese by
liis work. If one was to be paid, indeed, as Mr. Pope
was for his Homer — Pray, sir, don't you think that the
best translation in the world V
" Indeed, sir," cries Booth, " I think, though it is cer-
tainly a noble paraphrase, and of itself a fine poem, yet,
in some places, it is no translation at all. In the very
beginning, for instance, he has not rendered the true
force of the author. Homer invokes bis muse in the
five first lines of the Iliad ; and, at the end of the fifth,
he gives his reason :
For all these things, says he, were brought about by the
decree of Jupiter : and, therefore, he supposed their
true sources are known only to the deities. Now, the
translation takes no more notice of the Si, than if no
such word had been there."
"Very possibly," answered the author; " it is a long
time since I read the original. Perhaps, then, he fol-
lowed the French translations. I observe, indeed, he
talks much in the notes of Madame Dacier and Monsieur
Eustathius."
Booth had now received conviction enough of his
friend's knowledge of the Greek language; without at-
tempting, therefore, to set him right, he made a sudden
transition to the Latin. " Pray, sir," said he, " as you
have mentioned Rowe's translation of the Pharsalia, do
you remember how he has rendered that passage in the
character of Cato 1
* Venerisque huic maximus usus
Progenies ; urbi pater est, urblque marifus :'
for I apprehend that passage is generally misunder-
stood."
02
316 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
"I really do not remember," answered the author.
" Pray, sir, what do you take to be the meaning T'
" I apprehend, sir," replied Booth, " that by these
words, Urbi pater est, urbique maritus, Cato is represent-
ed as the father and husband to the city of Rome."
" Very true, sir," cries the author ; " very fine inde^ d.
Not only the father of his country, but the husband too;
very noble, truly!"
" Pardon me, sir," cries Booth, " I do not conceive that
to have been Lucan's meaning. If you please to observe
the context, Lucan, having recommended the temperance
of Cato in the instances of diet and clothes, proceeds to
venereal pleasures ; of which, says the poet, his princi-
pal use was procreation : then he adds, Urbi pater est, ur-
bique maritus ; that he became a father and a husband for
the sake only of the city."
" Upon my word, that's true," cries the author: " I did
not think of it. It is much finer than the other. Urbis
pater est — what is the other ? ay — urbis maritus. It is
certainly as you say, sir."
Booth was by this pretty well satisfied of the author's
profound learning : however, he was willing to try him
a little further. He asked him, therefore, what was his
opinion of Lucan in general, and in what class of writers
he ranked him.
The author stared a little at this question ; and after
some hesitation, answered, " Certainly, sir, I think he is
a fine writer, and a very great poet."
" I am very much of the same opinion," cries Booth :
" but where do you class him 1 next to what poet do you
place him 1"
" Let me see," cries the author : " where do I class
him ? next to whom do I place him 1 Ay ! — why ! —
why, pray, where do you yourself place him 1"
" Why, surely," cries Booth, '' if he is not to be placed
in the first rank with Homer, and Virgil, and Milton, I
think clearly he is at the head of the second ; before
either Statins or Silius Italicus ; though I allow to each
of these their merits ; but, perhaps, an epic poem was be-
yond the genius of either. I own, I have often thought
if Statins had ventured no further than Ovid or Claudian,
he would have succeeded better ; for his Sylvae are, in
my opinion, much better than his Thebais."
" I believe I was of the same opinion formerly," said
the author.
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 317
" And for what reason have you altered it T' cries
Booth.
" I have not altered it," answered the author ; " but, to
tell you the truth, I have not any opinion at all about
these matters at present. I do not trouble my head
much with poetry ; for there is no encouragement to
such studies in this age. It is true, indeed, I have now
and then written a poem or two for the magazines, but
I never intend to write any more ; for a gentleman is
not paid for his time. A sheet is a sheet with the book-
sellers, and whether it be in prose or verse they make
no difference ; though, certainly, there is as much differ-
ence to a gentleman in the work, as there is to a tailor
between making a plain and a laced suit. Rhymes are
difficult things ; they are stubborn tilings, sir. I have
been sometimes longer in tagging a couplet than I have
been in writing a speech on the side of opposition,
which has been read with great applause all over the
kingdom,"
" I am glad you are pleased to confirm that," cries
Booth, " for I protest it was an entire secret to me till
this day. I was so perfectly ignorant, that I thought the
speeches published in the magazines were really made
by the members themselves."
" Some of them, and I believe I may, without vanity,
say the best," cries the author, " are all the productions
of my own pen ; but 1 believe I shall leave it off soon,
unless a sheet of speech will fetch more than it does at
present. In truth, the romance writing is the only
branch of our business now that is worth following.
Goods of that sort have had so much success lately in
the market, that a bookseller scarce cares what he bids
for them : and it is certainly the easiest work in the
world : you may write it almost as fast as you can set
pen to paper ; and, if you interlard it with a little scan-
dal, a little abuse on some living characters of note, you
cannot fail of success."
" Upon my word, sir," cries Booth, "you have greatly
instructed me : I could not have imagined there had
been so much regularity in the trade of writing as you
are pleased to mention. By what I can perceive, the pen
and ink is likely to become the staple commodity of the
kingdom."
" Alas ! sir," answered the author, " it is overstocked.
The market is overstocked. There is no encouragement
27*
318 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
to merit, no patrons. I have been these five years so-
liciting a subscription for my new translation of Ovid's
Metamorphoses, with notes explanatory, historical, and
critical; and 1 have scarce collected five hundred names
yet."
The mention of this translation a little surprised
Booth ; not only as the author had just declared his in-
tentions to forsake the tuneful muses, but for some other
reasons, which he had collected from his conversation
with our author, he little expected to hear of a proposal
to translate any of the Latin poets. He proceeded, there-
fore, to catechise him a little further; and by his an-
swers was fully satisfied that he had the very same ac-
quaintance with Ovid that he had appeared to have with
Lucan.
The author then pulled out a bundle of papers, con-
taining proposals for his subscription, and receipts ; and,
addressing himself to Booth, said, " Though the place
in which we meet, sir, is an improper place to solicit fa-
vours of this kind, yet, perhaps, it may be in your
power to serve me, if you will charge your pockets with
some of these." Booth was just offering an excuse,
when the bailiff introduced Colonel James and the ser-
geant.
The unexpected visit of a beloved friend to a man in
affliction, especially in Mr. Booth's situation, is a com-
fort which can scarce be equalled ; not barely from the
hopes of relief or redress by his assistance, but as it
is an evidence of sincere friendship, which scarce admits
of any doubt or suspicion. Such an instance does in-
deed make a man amends for all ordinary troubles and
distresses ; and we ought to think ourselves gainers by
having such an opportunity of discovering that we are
possessed of one of the most valuable of all human pos-
sessions.
Booth was so transported at the sight of the colonel,
that he dropped the proposals which the author had put
into his hands, and burst forth into the highest profes-
sions of gratitude to his friend, who behaved very prop-
erly on his side, and said everything which became the
mouth of a friend on the occasion.
It is true, indeed, he seemed not moved equally either
with Booth or the sergeant, both whose eyes watered at
the scene. In truth, the colonel, though a very generous
man, had not the least grain of tenderness in his dispo-
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 319
sltion. His mind was formed of those firm materials of
which nature formerly hammered out the stoic, and upon
which the sorrows of no man Hving could make an im-
pression. A man of this temper, who does not much
value danger, will tight for the person he calls his friend ;
and the man that has but little value for his money will
give it him : but such friendship is never to be absolutely
depended on ; for, whenever the favourite passion inter-
poses with it, it is sure to subside and vanish into air :
whereas the man whose tender disposition really feels
the miseries of another, will endeavour to relieve them
for his own sake ; and in such a mind friendship will
often get the superiority over every other passion.
But, from whatever motive it sprung, the colonel's
behaviour to Booth seemed truly amiable ; and so it ap-
peared to the author, who took the first occasion to ap-
plaud it in a very florid oration, which the reader, whea
he recollects that he was a speechmaker by profession,
will not be surprised at ; nor, perhaps, will be much
more surprised, that he soon after took an occasion of
clapping a proposal into the colonel's hands ; holding,
at the same time, a receipt very visible in his own.
The colonel received both, and gave the author a
guinea in exchange, which was double the sum men-
tioned in the receipt ; for which the author made a low
bow, and very politely took his leave, saying, " I sup-
pose, gentlemen, you may have some private business
together. I heartily wish a speedy end to your confine-
ment ; and I congratulate you on the possessing so great,
60 noble, and so generous a friend."
Chapter VI. — Which inclines rather to satire than panegyric
•The colonel had the curiosity to ask Booth the name
of the gentleman who, in the vulgar language, had
struck, or taken him in for a guinea, with so much ease
and dexterity. Booth answered, he did not know his
name ; all that he knew of him was, that he was the
most impudent and illiterate fellow he had ever seen;
and that, by his own account, he was the author of most
of the wonderful productions of the age. " Perhaps,"
said he, " it may look uncharitable in me to blame you
for your generosity ; but I am convinced the fellow has
320 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
not the least merit or capacity ; and you have subscribed
to the most horrid trash that ever was published."
" I care not a farthing what he publishes," cries the
colonel : " Heaven forbid 1 should be obliged to read
half the nonsense I have subscribed to."
" But don't you think," said Booth, " that by such in-
discriminate encouragement of authors you do a real
mischief to society I By propagating the subscriptions
of such fellows, people are tired out, and vvithhold their
contributions to men of real merit : and, at the same
time, you are contributing to fill the world, not only with
nonsense, but with all the scurrility, indecency, andpro-
faneness with which the age abounds ; and with which
all bad writers supply the defect of genius."
" Pugh !" cries the colonel, " I never consider these
matters : good or bad, it is all one to me ; but there's
an acquaintance of mine, and a man of great wit too,
that thinks the worst the best, as they are the surest to
make him laugh."
" I ask pardon, sir," says the sergeant ; " but I wish
your honour would consider your own affairs a little ;
for it grows late in the evening."
" The sergeant says true," answered the colonel.
" What is it you intend to do ]"
*' Faith, colonel, I know not what I shall do. My af-
fairs seem so irreparable, that I have been driving them,
as much as possibly I could, from my mind. If I was
to suffer alone, I think I could bear them with some phi-
losophy ; but when I consider who are to be the sharers
in my fortune — the dearest of children, and the best, the
worthiest, and the noblest of women — pardon me, my
dear friend, these sensations are above me ; they con-
vert me into a woman ; they drive me to despair, to
madness."
The colonel advised him to command himself; and
told him this was not the way to retrieve his fortune.
*' As to me, my dear Booth," said he, " you know you
may command me as far as is really within my power."
Booth answered eagerly that he was so far from ex-
pecting any more favours from the colonel, that he had
resolved not to let him know anything of his misfortune.
" No, my dear friend," cries he, " I am too much obliged
to you already :" and then burst into many fervent ex-
pressions of gratitude, till the colonel himself stopped
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 321
him, and begged him to give an account of the debt or
debts for which he was detained in that horrid place.
Booth answered he could not be very exact ; but he
feared it was upwards of four hundred pounds.
" It is but three hundred pounds, indeed, sir," cries
the sergeant : " if you can raise three hundred pounds,
you are a free man this moment."
Booth, who did not apprehend the generous meaning
of the sergeant as well as, I believe, the reader will, an-
swered, he was mistaken ; that he had computed his
debts, and they amounted to upwards of four hundred
pounds 4 nay, that the bailiff had shown him writs for
above that sum.
■" Whether your debts are three or four hundred," cries
the colonel, " the present business is to give bail only ;
and then you will have some time to try your friends.
I think you might get a company abroad; and then I
would advance the money on the security of half your
pay : and, in the mean time, I will be one of your bail
with all my heart."
While Booth poured forth his gratitude for all this
kindness, the sergeant ran down stairs for the bailiff ; and
shortly after returned with him into the room.
The bailiff, being informed that the colonel offered to
be bail for his prisoner, answered, a little surlily, " W^ell,
sir, and who will be the other ? you know, I suppose,
there must be two ; and 1 must have time to inquire
after them."
The colonel replied, *' I believe, sir, I am well known
to be responsible for a much larger sum than your de-
mand on this gentleman : but, if your forms require two,
I suppose the sergeant here will do for the other."
*' 1 don't know the sergeant or you either, sir," cries
Bondum ; " and, if you propose yourselves bail for the
gentleman, I must have time to inquire after you."
" You need very little time to inquire after me," says
the colonel ; " for I can send for several of the law,
whom I suppose you know, to satisfy you ; but consider,
it is very late."
" Yes, sir," answered Bondum, " I do consider it is
too late for the captain to be bailed to-night."
" What do you mean by too late ?" cries the coloneL
*' I mean, sir, that I must search the office, and that is
now shut up ; for if my lord mayor and the court of al-
03
322 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
dermen would be bound for him, I would not discharg-e
him till I had searched the office."
" How, sir," cries the colonel, " has the law of Eng-
land no more regrard for the liberty of the subject than
to suffer such fellows as you to detain a man in custody
for debt, when he can give undeniable security ]"
" Don't fellow me," said the bailiff; " I am as good a
fellow as yourself I believe, though you have that rib-
and in your hat there."
"Do'you know whom you are speaking to V said the
sergeant. " Do you know you are talking to a colonel
of the army T'
" What's a colonel of the army to meV cries the bail-
iff: "I have had as good as he in my custody before
now."
" And a member of parliament V cries the sergeant.
"Is the gentleman a member of parliament? Well,
and what harm have I said ? I am sure I meant no
harm : and, if his honour is offended, I ask his pardon ;
to be sure his honour must know that the sheriff is an-
swerable for all the Avrits in the office, though they
were never so many, and I am answerable to the
sheriff. I am sure the captain can't say that 1 have
shown him any manner of incivihty since he has been
here : and I hope, honourable sir," cries he, turning to
the colonel, " you don't take anything amiss that I said,
as meant by way of disrespect, or any such matter. I
did not, indeed, as the gentleman here says, know
whom I was speaking to ; but I did not say anything
uncivil as I know of, and I hope no offence."
The colonel was more easily pacified than might
have been expected ; and told the bailiff, that if it was
against the rules of law to discharge Mr. Booth that
evening, he must be contented. He then addressed
himself to his friend, and began to prescribe comfort
and patience to him ; saying, he must rest satisfied with
his confinement that night ; and the next morning he
promised to visit him again.
Booth answ^ered, that as for himself, the lying one
night in any place was very little w^orth his regard.
" You and I, my dear friend, have both spent om*
evening in a worse situation than I shall in this house.
All my concern is for my poor Amelia, whose suffer-
ings on account of my absence I know^, and 1 feel with
unspeakable tenderness. Could I be assured she was
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 323
tolerably easy, I could be contented in chains or in a
dungeon."
" Give yourself no concern on her account," said the
colonel : " I will wait on her myself, though I break an
engagement for that purpose ; and will give her such
assurances as I am convinced will make her perfectly
easy."
Booth embraced his friend, and, weeping over him,
paid his acknowledgment with tears for all his goodness.
In words, indeed, he was not able to thank him ; for
gratitude, joining with his other passions, almost choked
him, and stopped his utterance.
After a short scene, in which nothing passed worth
recounting, the colonel bid his friend good-night ; and,
leaving the sergeant with him, made the best of his way
back to Amelia.
Chapter VII. — Worthy a very serious perusal.
The colonel found Amelia sitting very disconsolate
with Mrs. Atkinson. He entered the room with an air
of great gayety, assured Amelia that her husband was
perfectly well, and that he hoped the next day he would
again be with her.
Amelia was a little comforted at this account ; and
vented many grateful expressions to the colonel for his
unparalleled friendship, as she was pleased to call it.
She could not, however, help giving way, soon after,
to a sigh at the thoughts of her husband's bondage ; and
declared that night would be the longest she had ever
known.
" This lady, madam," cries the colonel, " must endeav-
our to make it shorter ; and, if you will give me leave,
I will join in the same endeavour." Then, after some
more consolatory speeches, the colonel attempted to
give a gay turn to the discourse, and said, " 1 was en-
gaged to have spent this evening disagreeably at Rane-
lagh, with a set of company 1 did not hke. How vastly
am I obliged to you, dear Mrs. Booth, that I pass it so
infinitely more to my satisfaction!"
" Indeed, colonel," said Amelia, " I am convinced
that, to a mind so rightly turned as yours, there must
be a much sweeter relish in the highest offices of
324 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
friendship, than in any pleasures which the gayest pub-
lic places can afford."
"Upon my word, madam," said the colonel, "yon
now do me no more than justice. I have, and always
had, the utmost indifference for such pleasures : indeed,
I hardly allow them worthy of that name, or, if they
are so at all, it is in a very low degree. In my opinion,
the highest friendship must always lead us to the high-
est pleasure."
Here Amelia entered into a long dissertation on
friendship, in which she pointed, several times, directly
at the colonel as the hero of her tale.
The colonel highly applauded all her sentiments ; and
when he could not avoid taking the compliment to him-
self, he received it with a most respectful bow. He
then tried his hand likewise at description, in which he
found means to repay all Amelia's panegyric in kind.
This, though he did with all possible delicacy, yet a
curious observer might have been apt to suspect that it
was chiefly on her account that the colonel had avoided
the masquerade.
In discourses of this kind they passed the evening,
till it was very late, the colonel never offering to stir
from his chair before the clock had struck one ; when
he thought, perhaps, that decency obliged him to take
his leave.
As soon as he was gone, Mrs. Atkinson said to Mrs,
Booth, " I think, madam, you told me this afternoon
that the colonel was married."
Amelia answeredy she did so.
" I think likewise, madam," said Mrs. Atkinson, "you
was acquainted with the colonel's lady."
Amelia answered, that she had been extremely inti-
mate with her abroad.
" Is she young and handsome ?" said Mrs. Atkinson.
" In short, pray, was it a match of love or convenience V^
Amelia answered, entirely of love, she believed, on
his side ; for that the lady had httle or no fortune.
" I am very glad to hear it," said Mrs. Atkinson ; " for
I am sure the colonel is in love with somebody. I
think I never saw a more luscious picture of love drawn
than that which he was pleased to give us as the por-
traiture of friendship. I have read, indeed, of Pylades
and Orestes, Damon and Pythias, and other great friends
of old ; nay, I sometimes flatter myself that I am capa-
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 325
ble of being a friend myself; but as for that fine, soft,
tender, delicate passion, which he was pleased to de-
scribe, I am convinced there must go a he and she to
the composition."
" Upon my word, my dear, you are mistaken," cries
Amelia: "if you had known the friendship which has
always subsisted between the colonel and my husband,
you would not imagine it possible for any description to
exceed it. Nay, I think his behaviour this very day is
sufficient to convince you."
" I own what he has done to-day has great merit,"
said Mrs. Atkinson ; " and yet, from what he has said
to-night — You will pardon me, dear madam ; perhaps
I am too quick-sighted in my observations ; nay, I am
afraid I am even impertinent."
" Fy upon it !" cries Amelia, " how can you talk in
that strain 1 Do you imagine I expect ceremony ? Pray
speak what you think with the utmost freedom."
" Did he not, then," said Mrs. Atkinson, " repeat the
words, the finest woman in the world, more thali once ]
Did he not make use of an expression which might have
become the mouth of Oroondates himself? If 1 re-
member, the words were these. That, had he been Alex-
ander the Great, he should have thought it more glory
to have wiped off a tear from the bright eyes of Statira,
than to have conquered fifty worlds."
" Did he say so ?" cries Amelia : " I think he did
say something like it ; but my thoughts were so full of
my husband, that 1 took but little notice. But what
would you infer from what he said 1 1 hope you don't
think he is in love with me !"
*' I hope he does not think so himself," answered Mrs.
Atkinson ; " though, when he mentioned the bright eyes
of Statira, he fixed his own eyes on yours with the niost
languishing air I ever beheld."
Amelia was going to answer, when the sergeant ar-
rived, and then she immediately fell to inquiring after
her husband ; and received such satisfactory answers
to all her many questions concerning him, that she ex-
pressed great pleasure. These ideas so possessed her
mind, that, without once casting her thoughts on any
other matters, she took her leave of the sergeant and his
lady, and repaired to bed to her children, in a room
which Mrs. Atkinson had provided her in the same
house ; where we will at present wish her a good-night.
326 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
Ch.vpter III.— Consisting of grave matters.
While innocence and cheerful hope, in spite of the
malice of fortune, closed the eyes of the gentle Amelia,
on her homely bed, and she enjoyed a sweet and pro-
found sleep, the colonel lay restless all night on his
down : his mind was affected with a kind of ague-fit ;
sometimes scorched up with flaming desires, and again
chilled with the coldest despair.
There is a time, I think, according to one of our poets,
when lust and envy sleep. This, I suppose, is when
they are well gorged with the food they most delight in;
but while either of these is hungry,
" Nor poppy, nor mandragora.
Nor all the drowsy sirups of the East
Will ever medicine them to slumber."
The colonel was at present unhappily tormented by
both these fiends. His last evening's conversation with
Amelia had done his business effectually ; the many kind
words she had spoken to him, the many kind looks she
had given him, as being, she conceived, the friend and
preserver of her husband, had made an entire conquest
of his heart. Thus, the very love which she bore him,
as the person to whom her little family were to owe
their preservation and happiness, inspired him with
thoughts of sinking them all in the lowest abyss of ruin
and misery ; and while she smiled with all her sweetness
on the supposed friend of her husband, she was convert-
ing that friend into his most bitter enemy.
"Friendship, take heed ; if woman interfere,
Be sure the hour of thy destruction's near."
These are the lines of Vanbrugh ; and the sentiment is
better than the poetry. To say the truth, as a hand-
some wife is the cause and cement of many false friend-
ships, she is often too liable to destroy the real ones.
Thus, the object of the colonel's lust very plainly ap^
pears ; but the object of his envy may be more difficult
to discover. Nature and fortune had seemed to strive
with a kind of rivalship, which should bestow most on
the colonel. The former had given him person, parts,
and constitution, in all which he was superior almost to
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 327
every other man ; the latter had given him rank in hfe,
and riches, both in a very eminent degree. Whom then
should this happy man envy 1 Here, lest ambition should
mislead the reader to search the palaces of the great,
we will direct him at once to Gray's Inn-lane ; where, in
a miserable bed, in a miserable room, he will see a mis-
erable broken lieutenant, in a miserable condition, with
several heavy debts on his back, and without a penny
in his pocket. This, and no other, was the object of the
colonel's envy. And why 1 because this wretch was
possessed of the affections of a poor little lamb, which
all the vast flocks that were within the power and reach
of the colonel could not prevent that glutton's longing
for. And sure this image of the lamb is not improperly
adduced on this occasion ; for what was the colonel's
desire, but to lead this poor lamb, as it were, to the
slaughter, in order to purchase a feast of a few days by
her final destruction ; and to tear her away from the arms
of one, where she was sure of being fondled and ca-
ressed all the days of her life ?
While the colonel was agitated with these thoughts,
his greatest comfort was, that Amelia and Booth were
now separated; and his greatest terror was of their
coming again together. From wishes, therefore, he be-
gan to meditate designs ; and so far was he from any
intention of procuring the liberty of his friend, that he
began to form schemes of prolonging his confinement,
till he could procure some means of sending him far
away from her ; in which case, he doubted not but of
succeeding in all he desired.
He was forming this plan in his mind, when a servant
informed him that one Sergeant Atkinson desired to speak
v*^ith his honour. The sergeant was immediately admit-
ted, and acquainted the colonel, that if he pleased to go
and become bail for Mr. Booth, another unexceptionable
housekeeper would be there to join with him. This
person the sergeant had procured that morning, and had,
by leave of his wife, given him a bond of indemnification
for the purpose.
The colonel did not seem so elated with this news as
Atkinson expected : on the contrary, instead of making
a direct answer to what Atkinson said, the colonel began
thus : *' I think, sergeant, Mr. Booth has told me that
you was foster-brother to his lady. She is really a
charming woman, and it is a thousand pities she should
328 THE IIlSTOr.Y OF AMELIA.
ever have been placed in the dreadful situation she is
now in. There is nothing so silly as for subaltern offi-
cers of the army to marryrunless where they meet with
women of very great fortunes indeed. What can be the
event of their marrying, otherwise, but entailing misery
and beggary on their wives and their posterity V
" AhYsir," cries the sergeant, "it is too late to think
of those matters now. To be sure, my lady might have
married one of the top gentlemen in the country ; for
she is certainly one of the best, as well as one of the
handsomest women in the kingdom ; and if she had been
fairly dealt by, would have had a very great fortune into
the bargain.' Indeed, she is worthy of the greatest
prince in the world ; and, if I had been the greatest prince
in the world, I should have thought myself happy with
such a wife; but she was pleased to like the lieutenant,
and certainly there can be no happiness in marriage
without liking."
" Lookee, sergeant," said the colonel, " you know very
well that I am the lieutenant's friend : I think I have
shown myself so."
" Indeed, your honour has," quoth the sergeant, " more
than once to my knowledge."
" But I am angry with him for his imprudence, greatly
angry with him for his imprudence ; and the more so, as
it affects a lady of so much worth."
" She is, indeed, a lady of the highest worth," cries
the sergeant. " Poor dear lady ! I knew her, an"t please
your honour, from her infancy ; and the sweetest tem-
pered, best-natured lady she is that ever trod on English
ground. I have always loved her as if she was my own
sister. Nay, she has very often called me brother ; and
I have taken it to be a greater honour than if I was to
be called a general otRcer."
" What pity it is," said the colonel, " that this wor-
thy creature should be exposed to so much misery by the
thoughtless behaviour of a man, who, though I am his
friend, I cannot help saying, has been guilty of impru-
dence at least I Why could he not live upon his half-
pay? What had he to do to run himself into debt in
this outrageous manner]"
" I wish, indeed," cries the sergeant, "he had been
a little more considerative ; but 1 hope this will be a
warning to him."
" How am I sure of that ]" answered the colonel ; "or
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 329
what reason is there to expect itl extravagance is a
vice, o( which men are not so easily cured. I have
thought a good deal of this matter, Mr. Sergeant; and,
upon the most mature deliberation, I am of opinion that
it will be better both for him and his poor lady that he
should smart a little more."
*' Your honour, sir, to be sure, is in the right," replied
the sergeant ; " but yet, sir, if you will pardon me for
speaking, I hope you will be pleased to consider my poor
lady's case. She suffers, all this while, as much or
more than the lieutenant; for I know her so well, that
I am certain she will never have a moment's ease till
her husband is out of confinement."
"I know women better than you, sergeant," cries the
colonel: " they sometimes place their affections on a
husband as children do on their nurse ; but they are
both to be weaned. I know you, sergeant, to be a fel-
low of sense as well as spirit, or I should not speak so
freely to you ; but 1 took a fancy to you a long time ago,
and I intend to serve you ; but first, I ask you this ques-
tion— Is your attachment to Mr. Booth, or his lady?"
" Certainly, sir," said the sergeant, " I must love my
lady best. Not but I have a great aflfection for the
lieutenant too, because I know my lady has the same ;
and, indeed, he has been always very good to me, as far
as was in his power. A lieutenant, your honour knows,
can't do a great deal ; but I have always found him my
friend upon all occasions."
" You say true," cries the colonel; " a lieutenant can
do but little ; but I can do much to serve you, and will
too. But let me ask you one question. Who was the
lady whom I saw last night with Mrs. Booth at her lodg-
ings ?"
Here the sergeant blushed, and repeated, " The lady,
sir?"
" Ay, a lady, a woman," cries the colonel, " who
supped with us last night. She looked rather too much
like a gentlewoman for the mistress of a lodging-house."
The sergeant's cheeks glowed at this compliment to
his wife ; and he was just going to own her, when the
colonel proceeded : " 1 think I never saw in my life so
ill-looking, sly, demure a b — h : I would give some-
thing, methinks, to know who she was."
" 1 don't know, indeed," cries the sergeant, in great
confusion ; " I know nothing about her."
28*
330 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
" I wish you would inquire," said the colonel, " and
let me know her name, and likewise what she is ; I
have a strange curiosity to know ; and let me see you
again this evening, exactly at seven."
" And will not your honour then go to the lieutenant
this morning'?" said Atliinson.
" It is not in my power," answered the colonel ; " I
am engaged another way. Besides, there is no haste in
this affair. If men will be imprudent, they must suffer
the consequences. Come to me at seven, and bring me
all the particulars you can concerning that ill-looking
jade I mentioned to you ; for I am resolved to know
who she is. And so good-morrow to you, sergeant ; be
assured I will take an opportunity to do something for
you."
Though some readers may, perhaps, think the ser-
geant not unworthy of the freedom with which the col-
onel treated him, yet that haughty officer would have
been very backward to have condescended to such fa-
miliarity with one of his rank, had he not proposed some
design from it. In truth, he began to conceive hopes of
making the sergeant instrumental in his design on Ame-
lia; in other words, to convert him into a pimp; an
office, in which the colonel had been served by Atkin-
son's betters ; and which, as he knew it was in his pow-
er very well to reward him, he had no apprehension that
the sergeant would decline ; an opinion which the ser-
geant might have pardoned, though he had never given
the least grounds for it, since the colonel borrowed it
from the knowledge of his own heart. This dictated to
him that he, from a bad motive, was capable of desiring
to debauch his friend's wife ; and the same heart in-
spired him to hope that another, from another bad mo-
tive, might be guilty of the same breach of friendship in
assisting him. Few men, I believe, think better of oth-
ers than of themselves ; nor do they easily allow the ex-
istence of any virtue, of which they perceive no traces
in their own minds: for which reason, I have observed,
that it is extremely difficult to persuade a rogue that you
are an honest man ; nor would you ever succeed in the
attempt by the strongest evidence, were it not for the
comfortable conclusion which the rogue draws, that he
who proves himself to be honest proves himself to be a
fool at the same time.
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 331
Chapter IX.— A curious chapter, from which a curious reader may
draw sundry observations.
The sergeant retired from the colonel in a very de-
jected state of mind ; in which, however, we must leave
him a while, and return to Amelia ; who, as soon as she
was up, had despatched Mrs. Atkinson to pay off her
former lodgings, and to bring off all her clothes and other
moveables.
The trusty messenger returned without performing
her errand ; for Mrs. EUison had locked up all her rooms,
and was gone out very early that morning ; and the ser-
vant knew not whither she was gone.
The two ladies now sat down to breakfast, together
with Amelia's two children; after which, Amelia de-
clared she would take a coach and visit her husband.
To this motion Mrs. Atkinson soon agreed, and offered
to be her companion. To say truth, I think it was rea-
sonable enough : and the great abhorrence which Booth
had of seeing his wife in a baihff's house was, perhaps,
rather too nice and delicate.
When the ladies were both dressed, and just going to
send for their vehicle, a great knocking was heard at the
door, and presently Mrs. James was ushered into the
room.
This visit was disagreeable enough to Amelia, as it de-
tained her from the sight of her husband, for which she
so eagerly longed. However, as she had no doubt but
that the visit would be reasonably short, she resolved to
receive the lady with all the complaisance in her power.
Mrs. James now behaved herself so very unlike the
person that she lately appeared, that it might have sur-
prised any one, who does not know, that besides that of
a fine lady, which is all mere art and mummery, every
such woman has some real character at the bottom, in
which, whenever nature gets the better of her, she acts.
Thus the finest ladies in the world will sometimes love
and sometimes scratch, according to their different nat-
ural dispositions, with great fury and violence, though
both of these are equally inconsistent with a fine lady's
artificial character.
S32 THE «lSrORY OF AMELIA.
Mrs. James then was, at the bottom, a very good-na-
tured woman; and the moment she heard of Ameha's
misfortune, was sincerely grieved at it. She had acqui-
esced, on the very first motion, with the colonel's design
of inviting her to her house ; and this morning, at break-
fast, when he had acquainted her that Amelia made some
difficulty in accepting the offer, very readily undertook
to go herself, and persuade her friend to accept the in-
vitation.
She now pressed this matter with such earnestness,
that Amelia, who was not extremely versed in the art
of denying, was hardly able to refuse her impor; unity ;
nothing, indeed, but her affection to Mrs. Atkinson
could have prevailed on her to refuse : that point,
however, she would not give up ; and Mrs. James, at
last, was contented with a promise, that as soon as
their affairs were settled, Amelia, with her husband
and family, would make her a visit, and stay some
time with her in the country, whither she was soon to
retire.
Having obtained this promise, Mrs. James, after many
very friendly professions, took her leave, and, stepping
iiito her coach, resumed the fine lady, and drove away to
join her company at an auction.
The moment she was gone, Mrs. Atkinson, who had
left the room upon the approach of Mrs. James, re-
turned into it, and was informed by Amelia of all that
had passed.
" Pray, madam," said Mrs. Atkinson, " do this colonel
and his lady live, as it is called, well together]"
" If you mean to ask," cries Amelia, "whether they
are a fond couple, I must answer, that I believe they are
not."
" I have been told," says Mrs. Atkinson, " that there
have been instances of women who have become bawds
to their own husbands, and the husbands pimps for
them."
"Fy upon it!" cries Amelia: "I hope there are no
such people. Indeed, my dear, this is being a little too
censorious."
'• Call it what you please," answered Mrs. Atkinson:
*' it arises from my love to you, and my fears for your
danger. You know the proverb of a burnt child ; and,
if such a one has any good-nature, it will dread the fire
on the account of others as well as on its own : and if I
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 33d
may speak my sentiments freely, I cannot think you will
be in safety at this colonel's house."
" I cannot but believe your apprehensions to be sin-
cere," replied Amelia, " and I must think myself obliged
to you for ihem ; but I am convinced you are entirely in
an error. I look on Colonel James as the most generous
and best of men. He was a friend, and an excellent
friend too, to my husband, long before 1 was acquainted
with him, and he has done him a thousand good offices.
What do you say of his behaviour yesterday ?"
" I wish," cries Mrs. Atkinson, " that his behaviour
to-day had been equal. What I am now going to under-
take is the most disagreeable office of friendship, but it
is a necessary one. I must tell you, therefore, what
passed this morning between the colonel and Mr. Atkin-
son ; for, though it will hurt you, you ought, on many
accounts, to know it." Here she related the whole
which we have recorded in the preceding chapter, and
with which the sergeant had acquainted her while Mrs,
James was paying her visit to Amelia; and as the sergeant
had painted the matter rather in stronger colours than
the colonel, so Mrs. Atkinson again a little improved on
the sergeant. Neither of these good people, perhaps, in-
tended to aggravate any circumstance ; but such is, I be-
lieve, the unavoidable consequence of all reports. Mrs.
Atkinson, indeed, may be supposed not to see what re-
lated to James in the most favourable light, as the ser-
geant, with more honesty than prudence, had suggested
to his wife, that the colonel had not the kindest opinion
of her, ami had called her a sly and demure b — h : it is
true he omitted ill-looking b — h; two words which are
perhaps superior to the patience of any Job in petticoats
that ever lived. He made amends, however, by substi-
tuting some other phrases in their stead, not extremely
agreeable to a female ear.
It appeared to Amelia, from Mrs. Atkinson's relation,
that the colonel had grossly abused Booth to the ser-
geant, and had absolutely refused to become his bail.
Poor Amelia became a pale and motionless statue at
this account. At length she cried, " If this be true, I
and mine are all, indeed, undone. We have no com-
fort, no hope, no friend left. I cannot disbelieve you ;
I know you would not deceive me. Why should you,
indeed, deceive me ? But what can have caused this al-
334 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
teration since last night 1 Did I say or do anything to
offend him ?"
*' You said, or did rather, I believe, a great deal too
much to please him," answered Mrs. Atkinson : " be-
sides, he is not in the least offended with you. On the
contrary, he said many kind things."
" What can my poor love have done ■?" said Amelia.
" He has not seen the colonel since last night. Some
villain has set him against my husband : he was once
before suspicious of such a person. Some cruel mon-
ster has belied his innocence."
" Pardon me, dear madam," said Mrs. Atkinson : " I
believe the person who has injured the captain with this
friend of his, is one of the worthiest and best of crea-
tures. Nay, do not be surprised ; the person I mean is
even your fair self : sure you would not be so dull in any
other case; but in this, gratitude, humihty, modesty,
every virtue shuts your eyes ;
♦ Mortales hebetant visus,'
as Virgil says. What in the world can be more con-
sistent than his desire to have you at his own house,
and to keep your husband confined in another] All
that he said, and all that he did yesterday, and, what is
more convincing to me than both, all that he looked
last night, are very consistent with both these designs."
"Oh heavens!" cries Amelia; "you chill my blood
with horror : the idea freezes me to death. I cannot,
must not, will not think it. Nothing but conviction —
Heaven forbid I should ever have more conviction.
And did he abuse my husband 1 What ! did he abuse a
poor, unhappy, distressed creature ; oppressed, ruined,
torn from his children, torn away from his wretched
wife; the honestest, worthiest, noblest, tenderest, fond-
est, best — " Here she burst into an agony of grief, which
exceeds the power of description.
In this situation, Mrs. Atkinson was doing her utmost
to support her, when a most violent knocking was heard
at the door, and immediately the sergeant ran hastily into
the room, bringing with him a cordial which presently
relieved Amelia. W' hat this cordial was, we shall inform
the reader in due time. In the mean while he must sus-
pend his curiosity ; and the gentlemen at White's may
lay wagers, whether it was Ward's pill or Doctor
James's powder.
I
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 335
But before we close this chapter, and return back to
the bailiff's house, we must do our best to rescue the
character of our heroine from the dulness of apprehen-
sion, which several of our quick-sighted readers may lay
more heavily to her charge than was done by her friend
Mrs. Atkinson.
I must inform, therefore, all such readers, that it is
not because innocence is more blind than guilt, that the
former often overlooks and tumbles into the pit, which
the latter foresees and avoids. The truth is, that it is
almost impossible guilt should miss the discovering of
all the snares in its way ; as it is constantly prying
closely into every corner, in order to lay snares for
others : whereas innocence, having no such purpose,
walks fearlessly and carelessly through life, and is con-
sequently liable to tread on the gins which cunning has
laid to entrap it. To speak plainly, and without allegory
or figure, it is not want of sense, but want of suspicion,
by which innocence is often betrayed. Again, we often
admire at the folly of the dupe, when we should transfei
our whole surprise to the astonishing guilt of the be-
trayer. In a word, many an innocent person has owec
his ruin to this circumstance alone, that the degree of
villany was such as must have exceeded the faith of
every man who was not himself a villain.
Chapter X. — In which are many profound secrets of philosophy.
Booth, having had enough of the author's company
the preceding day, chose now another companion. In-
deed, the author was not very solicitous of a second in-
terview; for, as he could have no hope from Booth's
pocket, so he was not likely to receive much increase
to his vanity from Booth's conversation ; for low as
this wretch was in virtue, sense, learning, birth, and
fortune, he was by no means low in his vanity. This
passion, indeed, was so high in him, and at the same
time so blinded him to his own demerits, that he hated
every man who did not either flatter him or give him
money. In short, he claimed a strange kind of right;
either to cheat all his acquaintance of their praise, or
to pick their pockets of their pence ; in which latter
case, he himself repaid very hberaily with panegyric.
336 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
A very little specimen of such a fellow must have sat-
isfied a man of Mr. Booth's temper. He chose, there-
fore, now to associate himself with that gentleman, of
whom Bondum had given so shabby a character. In
short, Mr. Booth's opinion of the bailiff was such,
that he recommended a man most where he least in-
tended it. Nay, the bailiff, in the present instance,
though he had drawn a mahcious conclusion, honestly
avowed that this was drawn only from the poverty of
the person, which is never, I believe, any forcible dis-
recommendation to a good mind ; but he must have had
a very bad mind indeed who, in Mr. Booth's circum-
stances, could have disliked or despised another man
because that other man was poor.
Some previous conversation having passed between
this gentleman and Booth, in which they had both
opened their several situations to each other, the for-
mer, casting an affectionate look on the latter, expressed
great compassion for his circumstances; for which
Booth thanking him, said, " You must have a great deal
of compassion, and be a very good man, in such a ter-
rible situation as you describe yourself, to have any pity
to spare for other people."
" My affairs, sir," answered the gentleman, " are very
bad, it is true ; and yet there is one circumstance, which
makes you appear to me more the object of pity than I
am to myself; and it is this ; that you must, from your
years, be"^a novice in affliction ; whereas, I have served
a long apprenticeship to misery, and ought, by this time,
to be a pretty good master of my trade. To say the
truth, I beheve habit teaches men to bear the burdens
of the mind, as it inures them to bear heavy burdens on
their shoulders. Without use and experience, the
strongest minds and bodies both will stagger under a
weight which habit might render easy, and even con-
temptible."
" There is great justice," cries Booth, " in the com-
parison : and I think I have myself experienced the
truth of it ; for I am not that tyro in affliction which
you seem to apprehend me : and, perhaps, it is from the
very habit you mention that 1 am able to support my
present misfortunes a little like a man."
The gentleman smiled at this, and cried, " Indeed,
captain, you are a young philosopher."
" I think," cries Booth, " I have some pretensions to
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 337
that philosophy which is taught by misfortunes; and
you seem to be of opinion, sir, that is one of the best
schools of philosophy."
"I mean no more, sir," said the gentleman, "than
that in the days of our affliction we are inclined to think
more seriously than in those seasons of life when we
are engaged m the hurrying pursuits of business and
pleasure, when we have neither leisure nor inclination
to sift and examine things to the bottom. Now, there
are two considerations, which, from my having long
fixed my thoughts upon them, have greatly supported
me under all my afflictions. The one is the brevity of
life, even at its longest duration, which the wisest of
men has compared to the short dimension of a span.
One of the Roman poets compares it to the duration of
a race, and another to the much shorter transition of a
wave.
" The second consideration is the uncertainty of it.
Short as its utmost limits are, it is far from being as-
sured of reaching those limits. The next day, the next
hour, the next moment may be the end of our course.
Now of what value is so uncertain, so precarious a sta-
tion 1 This consideration, indeed, however lightly it is
passed over in our conception, does, in a great meas-
ure, level all fortunes and conditions ; and gives no
man a right to triumph in the happiest state, or any
reason to repine in the most miserable. Would the
most worldly men see this in the light in which they
examine all other matters, they would soon feel and ac-
knowledge the force of this way of reasoning ; for which
of them would give any price for an estate from which
they were liable to be immediately ejected 1 or, would
they not laugh at him as a madman who accounted
himself rich from such an uncertain possession? This
is the fountain, sir, from which I have drawn my phi-
losophy : hence it is that I have learned to look on all
those things which are esteemed the blessings of life,
and those which are dreaded as its evils, with such a
degree of indifference, that, as I should not be elated
with possessing the former, so neither am I greatly de-
jected and depressed by suffering the latter. Is the actor
esteemed happier, to whose lot it falls to play the prin-
cipal part, than he who plays the lowest 1 and yet, the
drama may run twenty nights together, and, by conse-
quence, may outlast our lives ; but, at the best, life is
29 P
338 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
only a little longer drama ; and the business of the ^eat
stage is consequently a little more serious than that
which is performed at the Theatre Royal. But even here,
the catastrophes and calamities which are represented
are capable of affecting us. The wisest men can deceive
themselves into feeling the distresses of the tragedy,
though they know them to be merely imaginary ; and
the children will often lament them as realities : what
wonder, then, if these tragical scenes, which I allow to
be a little more serious, should a little more affect us 1
Where, then, is the remedy but in the philosophy I have
mentioned ; which, when once, by a long course of med-
itation, it is reduced to a habit, teaches us to set a just
value on everything ; and cures, at once, all eager wishes
and abject fears, all violent joy and grief, concerning
objects which cannot endure long, and may not exist a
moment]"
" You have expressed yourself extremely well," cries
Booth ; " and I entirely agree with the justice of your
sentiments ; but, however true all this may be in theory,
I still doubt its efficacy in practice : and the cause of
the difference between these two is this ; that we reason
from our heads, but act from our hearts : —
' Video meliora, proboque ;
Deteriora sequor.'
Nothing can differ more widely than wise men and fools
in their estimation of things ; but, as both act from their
uppermost passion, they both often act alike. What
comfort, then, can your philosophy give to an avaricious
man who is deprived of his riches, or to an ambitious
man who is stripped of his power ] to the fond lover
who is torn from his mistress, or to the tender husband
who is dragged from his wife 1 Do you really think
that any meditations on the shortness of life will sooth
them in their afflictions 1 Is not this very shortness it-
self one of their afflictions 1 and, if the evil they suffer
be a temporary deprivation of what they love, will they
not think their fate the harder, and lament the more,
that they are to lose any part of an enjoyment to which
there is so short and so uncertain a period V
" I beg leave, sir," said the gentleman, " to distinguish
here. By philosophy, I do not mean the bare knowl-
edge of right and wrong; but an energy, a habit, as
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA, 339
Aristotle calls it; and this I do firmly believe, with him
and with the stoics, is superior to all the attacks of for-
tune."
He was proceeding, when the bailiff came in, and, in
a surly tone, bade them both good-morrow ; after which,
he asked the philosopher if he was prepared to go to
Newgate ; for that he must carry him thither that after-
noon.
The poor man seemed very much shocked with the
news. " 1 hope," cries he, " you will give a little longer
time, if not till the return of the writ: but I beg you
particularly not to carry me thither to-day ; for 1 ex-
pect my wife and children here in the evening."
*' I have nothing to do with wives and children," cries
the bailiff; " I never desire to see wives and children
here. 1 like no such company."
" I entreat you," said the prisoner, " give me another
day. I shall take it as a great obligation ; and you will
disappoint me in the cruellest maimer in the world if
you refuse me."
" I can't help people's disappointment," cries the
bailiff; " I must consider myself and my own family.
I know not where I shall be paid the money that's due
already. I can't afford to keep prisoners at my own ex-
pense."
" I don't intend it shall be at your expense," cries the
philosopher : " my wife is gone to raise money this
morning; and I hope to pay you all I owe you at her
arrival. But we intend to sup together to-night at your
house ; and if you should remove me now, it would be
the most barbarous disappointment to us both, and will
make me the most miserable man alive."
" Nay, for my part," said the bailiff, " I don't desire to
do anything barbarous. 1 know how to treat gentlemen
with civility as well as another : and when people pay
as they go, and spend their money like gentlemen, I am
sure nobody can accuse me of any incivility since I
have been in the office ; and if you intend to be merry
to-night, I am not the man that will prevent it. Though
I say it, you may have as good a supper dressed here as
at any tavern in town."
" Since Mr. Bondum is so kind, captain," said the
fhilosopher, " I hope for the favour of your company,
assure you, if it ever be my fortune to go abroad into
P2
340 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
the world, I shall be proud of the honour of your ac-
quaintance."
" Indeed, sir," cries Booth, " it is an honour I shall be
very ready to accept ; but, as for this evening, I cannot
help saying, I hope to be engaged in another place."
" I promise you, sir," answered the other, " I shall re-
joice at your liberty, though I am a loser by it."
" Why, as to that matter," cries Bondum, with a sneer,
*' I fancy, captain, you may engage yourself to the gen-
tleman without any fear of breaking your word ; for I
am very much mistaken if we part to-day."
"Pardon me, my good friend," said Booth, " but I ex-
pect my bail every minute."
" Lookee, sir," cries Bondum, " I don't love to se-e
gentlemen in an error. I shall not take the sergeant's
bail ; and as for the colonel, I have been with him my-
self this morning, (for to be sure I love to do all I can
for gentlemen,) and he told me he could not possibly be
here to-day : besides, why should I mince the matter 1
there is more stuff in the office."
" What do you mean by stuff?" cries Booth.
" I mean that there is another writ," answered the
bailiff, " at the suit of ■Mrs. Ellison, the gentlewoman
that was here yesterday ; and the attorney fhat was with
her is concerned against you. Some officers would not
tell you all this : i^ut I loves to show civility to gentle-
men while they behave themselves as such ; and 1 loves
the gentlemen of the army in particular. I had hke to
have been in the army myself once ; but I hked the
commission I have better. Come, captain, let not your
noble courage be cast down : what say you to a glass of
white wine, or a tiff of punch, by way of whet V
" I have told you, sir, I never drink in the morning,"
cries Booth, a little peevishly.
" No offence, I hope, sir," said the bailiff; "I hope I
have not treated you with any incivility. I don't ask
any gentleman to call for liquor in my house, if he does
not choose it ; nor I don't desire anybody to stay here
longer than they have a mind to. Newgate, to be sure,
is the place for all debtors that can't find bail. I knows
what civility is, and I scorn to behave myself unbecom-
ing a gentleman ; but I'd have you consider that the
twenty-four hours appointed by act of parliament are
almost out ; and so it is time to think of removing. As
to bail, I would not have you flatter yourself; for I
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 341-
knows very well there are other things coming against
you: besides, the sum you are already charged with is
very large ; and I must see you in a place of safety.
My house is no prison, though I lock up for a little time
in it. Indeed, when gentlemen are gentlemen, and likely
to find bail, I don't stand for a day or two ; but I have a
good nose at a bit of carrion, captain : I have not car-
ried so much carrion to Newgate without knowing the
smell of it."
" I understand not your cant," cries Booth ; " but I
did not think to have offended you so much by refusing
to drink in a morning."
'♦Offended me, sir?" cries the bailiff. "Who told
you so 1 Do you think, sir, if I want a glass of wine I
am under any necessity of asking my prisoners for it 1
D — n it, sir, I'll show you I scorn your words. I can
afford to treat you with a glass of the best wine in
England, if you comes to that." He then pulled out a
handful of guineas, saying, " There, sir, they are all my
own : I owe nobody a shilling. I am no beggar, nor no
debtor. I am the king's officer, as well as you, and I
will spend guinea for guinea as long as you please."
" Harkee, rascal," cries Booth, laying hold of the bail-
iff's collar ; " how dare you treat me with this insolence ?
does the law give you any authority to insult me in my
misfortunes'?" At which words he gave the bailiff a
good shove, and threw him from him.
" Very well, sir," cries the bailiff ; " I will swear both
an assault and an attempt to rescue. If officers are to
be used in this manner, there is an end of all law and
justice. But though I am not a match for you myself,
I have those below that are." He then ran to the door,
and called up two ill-looking fellows, his followers,
whom, as soon as they entered the room, he ordered to
seize on Booth, declaring he would immediately carry
him to Newgate ; at the same time pouring out a vast
<juantity of abuse, below the dignity of history to re-
cord.
Booth desired the two dirty fellows to stand off,
and declared he would make no resistance ; at the
same time bidding the bailiff to carry him wherever he
durst.
" I'll show you what I dare," cries the bailiff; and
again ordered the followers to lay hold of their prisoner,
saying, " He has assaulted me already, and endeavoured
29*
342 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
a rescue. I sha'n't trust such a fellow to walk at liberty.
A gentleman, indeed ! ay, ay, Newgate is the properest
place for such gentry: as arrant carrion as ever was
carried thither."
The fellows then both laid violent hands on Booth,
and the bailiff stepped to the door to order a coach ;
when, on a sudden, the whole scene was changed in an
instant ; for now the sergeant came running out of
breath into the room ; and, seeing his friend the captain
roughly handled by two ill-looking fellows, without ask-
ing any questions, stepped briskly up to his assistance,
and instantly gave one of the assailants so violent a sa-
lute with his fist, that he directly measured his length
on the floor.
Booth, having by this means his right arm at liberty,
was unwilling to be idle, or entirely to owe his rescue
from both the ruffians to the sergeant ; he therefore imi-
tated the example which his friend had set him, and with
a lusty blow levelled the other follower with his com-
panion on the ground.
The bailiff roared out, " A rescue, a rescue !" to which
the sergeant answered, there was no rescue intended.
*' The captain," said he, " wants no rescue. Here are
some friends coming, who will dehver him in a better
manner."
The bailiff swore heartily he would carry him to New-
gate in spite of all the friends in the world.
"You carry him to Newgate!" cried the sergeant,
with the highest indignation, " Offer but to lay your
hands on him, and I will knock your teeth down your
ugly jaws." Then turning to Booth, he cried, "They
will be all here within a minute, sir : we had much
ado to keep my lady from coming herself; but she
is at home in good health, longing to see your hon-
our; and I hope you will be with her within this half-
hour."
And now three gentlemen entered the room ; these
were an attorney, the person whom the sergeant had
procured in the morning to be his bail with Colonel
James, and, lastly. Doctor Harrison himself.
The bailiff no sooner saw the attorney, with whom he
was well acquainted, (for the others he knew not,) than
he began, as the phrase is, to pull in his horns, and or-
dered the two followers, who were now got again on
their legs, to walk down stairs.
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 34^
" So, captain," says the doctor, " when last we parted
1 believe we neither of us expected to meet in such a
place as this."
" Indeed, doctor," cries Booth, " I did not expect to
have been sent hither by the gentleman who did me that
favour."
" How so, sir ?" said the doctor ; " you was sent hither
by some person, I suppose, to whom you was indebted.
This is the usual place, I apprehend, for creditors to
send their debtors to. But you ought to be more sur-
prised that the gentleman who sent you thither is come
to release you. Mr. Murphy, you will perform all the
necessary ceremonials."
The attorney then asked the bailiff with how many
actions Booth was charged ; and was informed there
were five besides the doctor's, which was much the
heaviest of all. Proper bonds were presently provided,
and the doctor and the sergeant's friend signed them ;
the bailiff, at the instance of the attorney, making no
objection to the bail.
Booth, we may be assured, made a handsome speech
to the doctor for such extraordinary friendship, with
which, however, we do not think proper to trouble the
reader : and now, everything being ended, and the com-
pany ready to depart, the bailiff stepped up to Booth,
and told him he hoped he would remember civility
money.
" I believe," cries Booth, " you mean incivility money :
if there be any fees due for rudeness, I must own you
have a very just claim."
" 1 am sure, sir," cries the bailiff, " I have treated your
honour with all the respect in the world : no man, 1 am
sure, can charge me with using a gentleman rudely.
I knows what belongs to a gentleman better ; but you
can't deny that two of my men have been knocked down ;
and I doubt not but, as you are a gentleman, you will
give them something to drink."
Booth was about to answer with some passion, when
the attorney interfered, and whispered in his ear, that
it was usual to make a compliment to the officer, and
;lhat he had better comply with the custom.
"If the fellow had treated me civilly," answered
Booth, *' I should have no objection to comply with a
bad custom in his favour; but I am resolved I will
344 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
never reward a man for using me ill; and I will not
agree to give him a single farthing."
'"Tisvery well, sir," said the bailiff; "I am rightly-
served for my good-nature : but if it had been to do again,
I would have taken care you should not have been bailed
this day."
Doctor Harrison, to whom Booth referred the cause,
after giving him a succinct account of what had passed,
declared the captain to be in the right. He said it was
a most horrid imposition that such fellows were ever
suffered to prey on the necessitous ; but that the exam-
ple would be much worse to reward them where they
had behaved themselves ill. " And I think," says he,
" the bailiff is worthy of great rebuke for what he has
just now said ; in which I hope he has boasted of more
power than is in him. We do, indeed, with great justice
and propriety, value ourselves on our freedom, if the
liberty of the subject depends on the pleasure of such
fellows as these I"
"It is not so neither altogether," cries the lawyer;
" but custom has established a present or fee to them at
the delivery of a prisoner, which they call civility money,
and expect as in a manner their due, though in reality
they have no right."
" But will any man," cries Doctor Harrison, " after
■what the captain has told us, say that the bailiff has be-
haved himself as he ought ; and, if he had, is he to be
rewarded for not acting in an unchristian and inhuman
manner 1 It is pity that, instead of a custom of feeing
them out of the pockets of the poor and wretched, when
they do not behave themselves ill, there was not both
a law and a practice to punish them severely when they
do. In the present case, I am so far from agreeing to
give the bailiff a shilling, that, if there be any method of
punishing him for his rudeness, I shall be heartily glad
to see it put in execution; for there are none whose
conduct should be so strictly watched as that of these
necessary evils in society ; as their office concerns, for
the most part, those poor creatures who cannot do them-
selves justice, and as they are generally the worst of
men who undertake it."
The bailiff then quitted the room, muttering that he
should know better what to do another time; and
shortly after Booth and his friends left the house ; but,
as they were going out, the author took Doctor Harri-
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 345
son aside, and slipped a receipt into his hand, which the
doctor returned, saying, he never subscribed when he
neither knew the work nor the author ; but that, if he
would call at his lodgings, he would be very willing to
give all the encouragement to merit which was in his
power.
The author took down the doctor's name and direc-
tion, and made him as many bows as he would have
done had he carried off the half guinea for which he had
been fishing.
Mr. Booth then took his leave of the philosopher, and
departed with the rest of his friends.
BOOK IX.
Chapter I. — In which the history looks backward.
Before we proceed further with our history, it may-
be proper to look back a Uttle, in order to account for
the late conduct of Dr. Harrison ; which, however in-
consistent it may have hitherto appeared, when exam-
ined to the bottom, will be found, I apprehend, to be
truly congruous with all the rules of the most perfect
prudence, as well as with the most consummate good-
ness.
We have already partly seen in what light Booth had
been represented to the doctor abroad. Indeed, the ac-
counts which were sent of the captain, as well by the
curate as by a gentleman of the neighbourhood, were
much grosser, and more to his disadvantage, than the
doctor was pleased to set them forth in his letter to the
person accused. What sense he had of Booth's con-
duct was, however, manifest by that letter. Neverthe-
less, he resolved to suspend his final judgment till his
return ; and, though he censured him, would not abso-
lutely condemn him without ocular demonstration.
The doctor, on his return to his parish, found all the
accusations which had been transmitted to him con-
firmed by many witnesses, of which the curate's wife,
who had been formerly a friend to Amelia, and still pre-
served the outward appearance of friendship, was the
P3
346 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
Strongest, She introduced all with — "I am sorry to
say it ;" and " it is friendship which bids me speak ;"
and "it is for their good it should be told you :" after
which beginnings, she never concluded a single speech
without some horrid slander and bitter invective.
Besides the malicious turn which was given to these
affairs in the country, which were owing a good deal to
misfortune, and some little, perhaps, to imprudence, the
whole neighbourhood rung with several gross and scan-
dalous lies, which were merely the inventions of his
enemies, and of which the scene was laid in London
since his absence.
Poisoned with all this malice, the doctor came to town,
and learning where Booth lodged, went to make him a
visit. Indeed, it was the doctor, and no other, who had
been at his lodgings that evening when Booth and Ame-
lia were walking in the Park ; and concerning which the
reader may be pleased to remember so many strange
and odd conjectures.
Here the doctor saw the little gold watch, and all
those fine trinkets with which the noble lord had pre-
sented the children ; and which, from the answers given
him by the poor, ignorant, innocent girl, he could have
no doubt had been purchased within a few days by
Amelia.
This account tallied so well with the ideas he had im-
bibed of Booth's extravagance in the country, that he
firmly believed both the husband and wife to be the
vainest, silliest, and most unjust people alive. It was,
indeed, almost incredible, that two rational beings should
be guilty of such absurdity ; but, monstrous and absurd
as it was, ocular demonstration appeared to be the evi-
dence against them.
The doctor departed from their lodgings enraged at
this supposed discovery, and, unhappily for Booth, was
engaged to supper that very evening with the country
gentleman of whom Booth had rented a farm. As the
poor captain happened to be the subject of conversation,
and occasioned their comparing notes, the account
which the doctor gave of what he had seen that even-
ing so incensed the gentleman, to whom Booth was
likewise a debtor, that he vowed he would take a writ
out against him the next morning, and have his body,
alive or dead ; and the doctor was at last persuaded to do
the same. Mr. Murphy was thereupon immediately
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 347
sent for, and the doctor in his presence repeated again
what he had seen at his lodgings, as the foundation of
his suing him, which the attorney, as we have before
seen, had blabbed to Atkinson.
But no sooner did the doctor hear that Booth was ar-
rested, than the wretched condition of his wife and fa'u-
ily began to affect his mind. The children, who were
to be utterly undone with their father, were entirely
innocent ; and as for Amelia herself, though he thought
he had most convincing proofs of very blameable levity,
yet his former friendship and affection to her were busy
to invent every excuse, till, by very heartily loading
the husband, they lightened the suspicion against the
wife.
In this temper of mind he resolved to pay Amelia a
second visit, and was on his way to Mrs. Ellison, when
the sergeant met him, and made himself known to him.
The doctor took his old servant into a coffee-house,
where he received from him such an account of Booth
and his family, that he desired the sergeant to show
him presently to Amelia ; and this was the cordial which
we mentioned at the end of the ninth chapter of the
preceding book.
The doctor became soon satisfied concerning the
trinkets which had given him so much uneasiness, and
which had brought so much mischief on the head of poor
Booth. Amelia likewise gave the doctor some satisfac-
tion as to what he had heard of her husband's behaviour
in the country; and assured him, upon her honour, that
Booth could so well answer every complaint against his
conduct, that she had no doubt but that a man of the
doctor's justice and candour would entirely acquit him,
and would consider him as an innocent, unfortunate
man, who was the object of a good man's compassion,
not of his anger or resentment.
This worthy clergyman, who was not desirous of
finding proofs to condemn the captain, or to justify his
own vindictive proceedings, but, on the contrary, re-
joiced heartily in every piece of evidence which tended
to clear up the character of his friend, gave a ready ear
to all which Amelia said. To this, indeed, he was in-
duced, by the love he always had for that lady, by the
good opinion he entertained of her, as well as by pity
for her present condition, than which nothing appeared
more miserable ; for he found her in the highest agonies
348 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
of grief and despair, with her two little children crying
over their wretched mother. These are, indeed, to a
M'ell-disposed mind, the most tragical sights that human
nature can furnish, and afford a juster motive to grief
and tears in the beholder than it would be to see all the
heroes who have ever infested the earth hanged all to-
gether in a string.
The doctor felt this sight as he ought. He immedi-
ately endeavoured to comfort the afflicted ; in which he
so well succeeded, that he restored to Amelia sufficient
spirits to give him the satisfaction we have mentioned ;
after which, he declared he would go and release her
husband ; which he accordingly did, in the manner we
have above related.
Chapter II. — In which the history goes forward.
We now return to that period of our history to which
we had brought it at the end of our last book.
Booth and his friends arrived from the bailiff's, at the
sergeant's lodgings ; where Booth immediately ran up
stairs to his Amelia, between whom 1 shall not attempt
to describe the meeting : nothing certainly was ever
more tender or more joyful. This, however, I will ob-
serve, that a very few of these exquisite moments, of
which the best minds only are capable, do, in reality,
overbalance the longest enjoyments which can ever fall
to the lot of the worst.
While Booth and his wife were feasting their souls
with the most delicious mutual endearments, the doc-
tor was fallen to play with the two little children below
stairs. While he was thus engaged, the little boy did
somewhat amiss ; upon which the doctor said, " If you
do so any more, I will take your papa away from you
again." "Again, sir V said the child: "why, was it
you, then, that took away my papa before ]" " Suppose
it was," said the doctor, " would you not forgive me ]"
*' Yes," cries the child, " I would forgive you, because a
Christian must forgive everybody ; but I should hate
you as long as I live."
The doctor was so pleased with the boy's answer, that
he caught him in his arms and kissed him ; at which
lime Booth and his wife returned. The dodtor asked
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 349
which of them was their son's instructer in his religion.
Booth answered, that he must confess Amelia had all
the merit of that kind. " 1 should rather have thought
he had learned it of his father," cries the doctor; "for
he seems a good soldierlike Christian, and professes to
hate his enemies with a very good grace."
" How, Billy !" cries Amelia : " 1 am sure I did not
teach you so."
" 1 did not say I would hate my enemies, madam,"
cries the boy : " I only said I would hate my papa's en-
emies ; sure, mamma, there is no harm in that : nay, I
am sure there is no harm in it ; for I have heard you say
the same thing a thousand times."
The doctor smiled on the child, and chucking him un-
der the chin, told him he must hate nobody. And now,
Mrs. Atkinson, who had provided a dinner for them all,
desired them to walk up and partake of it.
And now it was that Booth was first made acquainted
with the sergeant's marriage, as was Dr. Harrison, both
of whom greatly felicitated him upon it.
Mrs. Atkinson, who was, perhaps, a little more con-
founded than she would have been had she married a
colonel, said, " If I have done wrong, Mrs. Booth is to
answer for it ; for she made the match. Indeed, Mr.
Atkinson, you are greatly obliged to the character which
this lady gives of you." " I hope he will deserve it,"
said the doctor ; " and if the army has not corrupted a
good boy, I believe I may answer for him."
While our little company were enjoying that happi-
ness which never fails to attend conversation where all
present are pleased with each other, a visitant arrived,
who was, perhaps, not very welcome to any of them.
This was no other than Colonel James ; who, entering
the room with much gayety, went directly up to Booth,
embraced him, and expressed great satisfaction at find-
ing him there : he then made an apology for not attend-
ing him in the morning, which he said had been impossi-
ble ; and that he had, with the utmost difficulty, put off
some business of great consequence, in order to serve
him this afternoon ; " but I am glad, on your account,"
cried he to Booth, " that my presence was not neces-
sary."
Booth himself was extremely satisfied with this dec-
laration, and failed not to return him as many thanks
as he would have deserved had he performed his prora-
30
350 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA,
ise ; but the two ladies were not quite so well satisfied.
As for the sergeant, he had slipped out of the room when
the colonel entered, not entirely out of that bashfulness
which we have remarked him to be tainted with ; but,
indeed, from what had passed in the morning, he hated
the sight of the colonel, as well on the account of his
wife as on that of his friend.
The doctor, on the contrary, on what he had formerly
heard from both Amelia and her husband of the colo-
nel's generosity and friendship, had built so good an
opinion of him, that he was very much pleased with
seeing him, and took the first opportunity of telling him
so. " Colonel," said the doctor, " I have not the happi-
ness of being known to you ; but I have long been de-
sirous of an acquaintance with a gentleman, in whose
commendation 1 have heard so much from some pres-
ent." The colonel made a proper answer to this com-
pliment, and they soon entered into a familiar 'conversa-
tion together; for the doctor was not difficult of access;
indeed, he held the strange reserve wh.ch is usually
practised in this nation between people who are in any
degree strangers to each other, to be very unbecoming
the Christian character.
The two ladies soon left the room ; and the remainder
of the visit, which was not very long, passed in dis-
course on various common subjects, not worth record-
ing. In the conclusion, the colonel invited Booth and
his lady, and the doctor, to dine with him the next day.
To give Colonel James his due commendation, he had
shown a great command of himself, and great presence
of mind on this occasion ; for, to speak the plain truth,
the visit was intended to Amelia alone; nor did he ex-
pect, or perhaps desire, anything less than to find the
captain at home. The great joy which he suddenly
conveyed into his countenance at the unexpected sight
of his friend, is to be attributed to that noble art, which
is taught in those excellent schools called the several
courts of Europe. By this, men are enabled to dress
out their countenances as much at their own pleasure as
they do their bodies, and to put on friendship with as
much ease as they can a laced coat.
When the colonel and doctor were gone, Booth ac-
quainted Amelia with the invitation he had received.
She was so struck with the news, and betrayed such
visible marks of confusion and uneasiness, that they
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 351
could not have escaped Booth's observation, had suspi
cion given him the least hint to remark ; but this, indeed,
is the great optic glass, helping us to discern plainly al-
most all that passes in the minds of others, without
some use of which nothing is more purblind than human
nature.
Amelia, having recovered from her first perturbation,
answered, " My dear, I will dine with you wherever you
please to lay your commands on me." *' I am obliged
to you, my dear soul," cries Booth : " your obedience
shall be very easy ; for my command will be, that you
shall always follow your own inchnations." " My incli-
nations," answered she, " would, 1 am afraid, be too un-
reasonable a confinement to you ; for they would always
lead me to be with you and your children, with at most
a single friend or two, now and then." " Oh, my dear,"
replied he, " large companies give us a greater relish
for our own society when we return to it ; and we shall
be extremely merry, for Dr. Harrison dines with us."
" I hope you will, my dear," cries she ; "but I own I
should have been better pleased to have enjoyed a few
days with yourself and the children, with no other person
but Mrs. Atkinson, for whom I have conceived a violent
afiection, and who would have given us but little inter-
ruption. However, if you have promised, I must un-
dergo the penance." " Nay, child," cried he, " I am
sure I would have refused, could I have guessed it had
been in the least disagreeable to you ; though I know
j'our objection." " Objection 1" cries Amelia, eagerly;
" I have no objection." " Nay, nay," said he, " come,
be honest; I know your objection, though you are un-
willing to own it." — " Good heavens !" cried Amelia,
frightened ; " what do you mean 1 what objection ]"
*' Why," answered he, " to the company of Mrs. James ;
and, 1 must confess, she has not behaved to you lately
as you might have expected ; but you ought to pass all
that by for the sake of her husband, to whom we have
both so many obligations ; who is the worthiest, hon-
estest, and most generous fellow in the universe, and the
best friend to me that ever man had."
Amelia, who had far other suspicions, and began to
fear that her husband had discovered them, was highly
pleased when she saw him taking a wrong scent. She
gave, therefore, a little into the deceit, and acknowledged
the truth of what he had mentioned ; but said that the
352 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
pleasure she should have in complying with his desires
would highly recompense any dissatisfaction which
might arise on any other account ; and shortly after
ended the conversation on this subject with her cheer-
fully promising to fulfil his promise.
In reality, poor Amelia had now a most unpleasant
task to undertake ; for she thought it absolutely neces-
sary to conceal from her husband the opinion she had
conceived of the colonel : for, as she knew the characters
as well of her husband as of his friend, or rather enemy,
(both being often synonymous in the language of the
world,) she had the utmost reason to apprehend some-
thing very fatal might attend her husband's entertaining
the same thought of James which filled and tormented
her own breast.
And as she knew that nothing but these thoughts could
justify the least unkind, or, indeed, the least reserved
behaviour to James, who had, in all appearance, con-
ferred the greatest obligations upon Booth and herself,
she was reduced to a dilemma the most dreadful that
can attend a virtuous woman ; as it often gives the high-
est triumph, and sometimes no little advantage, to the
men of professional gallantry.
In short, to avoid giving any umbrage to her husband,
Amelia was forced to act in a manner which she was
conscious must give encouragement to the colonel ; a
situation which, perhaps, requires as great prudence and
delicacy as any in which the heroic part of the female
character can be exerted.
Chapter III.— A conversation between Dr. Harrison and others.
The next day, Booth and his lady, with the doctor,
met at Colonel James's, where Colonel Bath likewise
made one of the company.
Nothing very remarkable passed at dinner, or till the
ladies withdrew. During this time, however, the be-
haviour of Colonel James was such as gave some un-
easiness to Amelia, who well understood his meaning,
though the particulars were too refined and subtle to be
observed by any other present.
When the ladies were gone, which was as soon as
Amelia could prevail on Mrs. James to depart, Colonel
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 333
Bath, who had been pretty brisk with Champagne at din-
ner, soon began to display his magnanimity. " My
brother tells me, young gentleman," said he to Booth,
*' that you have been used very ill lately by some ras-
cals ; and 1 have no doubt but you will do yourself jus-
tice."
Booth answered that he did not know what he meant.
*' Since I must mention it then," cries the colonel, " I
hear you have been arrested ; and I think you know
what satisfaction is to be required by a man of honour."
" I beg, sir," says the doctor, "no more may be men-
tioned of that matter. I am convinced, no satisfaction
will be required of the captain till he is able to give it."
" I do not understand what you mean by able," cries
the colonel. To which the doctor answered, that it was
of too tender a nature to speak more of.
" Give me your hand, doctor," cries the colonel: "I
see you are a man of honour, though you wear a gown.
It is, as you say, a matter of a tender nature. Nothing,
indeed, is so tender as a man's honour. Curse my liver,
if any man — I mean, that is, if any gentleman, was to
arrest me, I would as surely cut his throat as — "
" How, sir !" said the doctor, " would you compensate
one breach of the law by a much greater, and pay your
debts by committing murder V
" Why do you mention law between gentlemen ]"
says the colonel. "A man of honour wears his law by
his side ; and can the resentment of an affront make a
gentleman guilty of murder I And what greater affront
can one man cast upon another than by arresting him 1
I am convinced, that he who would put up an arrest,
would put up a slap in the face."
Here the colonel looked extremely fierce, and the
divine stared with astonishment at this doctrine ; when
Booth, who well knevv the impossibility of opposing the
colonel's humour with success, began to play with it ;
and, having first conveyed a private wink to the doctor,
he said, there might be cases undoubtedly where such an
affront ought to be resented ; but that there were others,
where any resentment was impracticable : " as, for in-
stance," said he, " where the man is arrested by a
woman."
" I could not be supposed to mean that case," cries the
colonel ; " and you are convinced I did not mean it."
" To put an end to this discourse at once, sir," said the
30*
354 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
doctor, " I was the plaintiff at whose suit this gentleman
was arrested."
" Was you so, sir V cries the colonel ; " then I have
no more to say. Women and the clergy are upon the
same footing. The long-robed gentry are exempted
from the laws of honour."
" I do not thank you for that exemption, sir," cries the
doctor ; " and if honour and fighting are, as they seem to
be, synonymous words with you, I believe there are
some clergymen, who, in defence of their religion, or
their country, or their friend, the only justifiable causes
of fighting, except bare self-defence, would fight as
bravely as yourself, colonel ; and that without being paid
for it."
'* Sir, you are privileged," says the colonel, with great
dignity ; " and you have my leave to say what you please.
I respect your order, and you cannot oflfend me."
'* 1 will not oflfend j'ou, colonel," cries the doctor ;
" and our order is very much obliged to you, since you
profess so much respect to us, and pay none to our
Master."
" What master, sir V said the colonel.
" That Master," answered the doctor, " who has ex-
pressly forbidden all that cutting of throats, to which you
discover so much inclination."
" Oh, your servant, sir," said the colonel ; " I see what
you are driving at ; but you shall not persuade me to
think that religion forces me to be a coward."
" I detest and despise the name as much as you can,"
cries the doctor ; " but you have a wrong idea of the
word, colonel. What were all the Greeks and Romans 1
were these cowards ? and yet, did you ever hear of this
butchery, which we call duelling, among them V
" Yes, indeed, have 1," cries the colonel. " What else
is all Mr. Pope's Homer full of, but duels 1 Did not,
what's his name ! one of the Agamemnons, fight with
that paltry rascal, Paris 1 and Diomede with, what d'ye
call him there? and Hector with. I forget his name, he
that was Achilles's bosom-friend ; and afterward with
Achilles himself? Nay, and in Dryden's Virgil, is there
anything almost bevsides fighting V
" You are a man of learning, colonel," cries the doc-
tor; "but—"
" I thank you for that compliment," said the colonel.
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 355
" No, sir, I do not pretend to learning ; but I have some
little reading, and 1 am not ashamed to own it."
" But are you sure, colonel," cries the doctor, " that
you have not made a small mistake ? for I am apt to be-
lieve both Mr. Pope and Mr. Dryden (though I cannot
say I ever read a word of either of them) speak of wars
between nations, and not of private duels : for, of the
latter, I do not remember one single instance in all the
Greek and Roman slory. In short, it is a modern cus-
tom, introduced by barbarous nations since the times of
Christianity; though it is a direct and audacious defiance
of the Christian law, and is consequently much more
sinful in us than it would have been in the heathens."
" Drink about, doctor," cries the colonel, " and let us
call a new cause; for I perceive we shall never agree on
this. You are a churchman, and I don't expect you to
speak your mind."
" We are both of the same church, I hope," cries the
doctor.
*' I am of the church of England, sir," answered the
colonel, " and will fight for it to the last drop of my
blood."
*' It is very generous in you, colonel," cries the doctor,
*' to fight so zealously for a religion by which you are to
be damned."
*' It is well for you, doctor," cries the colonel, " that
you wear a gown ; for, by all the dignity of a man, if any
other person had said the words you have just uttered, I
would have made him eat them, ay, d — n me, and my
sword into the bargain."
Booth 6egan to be apprehensive that this dispute might
grow too warm ; in which' case he feared that the coio-
nel's honour, together with the Champagne, might hurry
him so far as to forget the respect due, and which he
professed to pay, to the sacredotal robe. Booth there-
fore interposed between the disputants, and said that
the colonel had very rightly proposed to call a new sub-
ject ; for that it was impossible to reconcile accepting a
challenge with the Christian religion, or refusing it with
the modern notion of honour. " And you must allow it,
doctor," said he, " to be a very hard injunction for a man
to become infamous ; and more especially for a soldier,
who is to lose his bread into the bargain."
•' Ay, sir," says the colonel, with an air of triumph,
" what say you to that V
556 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
" Why, I say," cries the doctor, " that it is much harder
to be damned on tlie other side."
" That may be," said the colonel ; "but d— n me, if I
would take an atfront of any man breathing, for all that;
and yet I believe myself to be as good a Christian as
wears a head. My maxim is, never to give an affront,
nor ever to take one ; and 1 say, that is the maxim of a
good Christian ; and no man shall ever persuade me to
the contrary."
" Well, sir," said the doctor, " since that is your reso-
lution, I hope no man will ever give you an affront."
" I am obliged to you for your hope, doctor," cries the
colonel, with a sneer, *' and he that does will be obliged
to you for lending him your gown ; for, by the dignity
of a man, nothing out of petticoats, I believe, dares
affront me."
Colonel James had not hitherto joined in the discourse.
In truth, his thoughts had been otherwise employed : nor
is it very difficult for the reader to guess what had been
the subject of them. Being waked, however, from his
revery, and having heard the last two or three speeches,
he turned to his brother, and asked him why he would
introduce such a topic of conversation before a gentle-
man of Doctor Harrison's character.
" Brother." cried Bath, " I own it was wrong, and I
ask the doctor's pardon ; I know not how it happened to
arise ; for you know, brother, I am not used to talk of
these matters. They are generally poltrons that do,
I think I need not be beholden to my tongue to declare
I am none. I have shown myself in a line of battle ; 1
believe there is no man will deny that. I believe I may
say, no man dares deny that 1 have done my duty."
The colonel was thus proceeding to prove that his
prowess was neither the subject of his discourse nor the
object of his vanity, when a servant entered, and sum-
moned the company to tea with the ladies ; a summons
which Colonel James instantly obeyed, and was followed
by all the rest.
But as the tea-table conversation, though extremely
delightful to those who are engaged in it, may probably
appear somewhat dull to the reader, we will here put an
end to the chapter.
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 357
Chapter IV. — A dialogue between Booth and Amelia.
The next morning, early, Booth went by appointment,
and waited on Colonel James ; whence he returned to
Amelia in that kind of disposition which the great mas-
ter of the human passions would describe in Andromache,
when he tells us she cried and smiled at the same instant.
Amelia plainly perceived the discomposure of his
mind, in which the opposite affections of joy and grief
were struggling for the superiority, and begged to know
the occasion: upon which Booth spoke as follows: —
" My dear," said he, " I had no intention to conceal
from you what had passed this morning between me and
the colonel, who has oppressed me, if 1 may use that ex-
pression, with obligations. Sure never man had such a
friend; for never was there so noble, so generous a
heart : I cannot help this ebullition of gratitude, I really
cannot." Here he paused a moment, and wiped his
eyes, and then proceeded : " You know, my dear, how
gloomy th'e prospect was yesterday before your eyes,
how inevitably ruin stared me in the face : and the
dreadful idea of having entailed beggary on my Amelia
and her posterity racked my mind: for though, by the
goodness of the doctor, 1 had regained my liberty, the
debt yet remained ; and if that worthy man had a design
of forgiving me his share, this must have been my ut-
most hope; and the condition in which 1 must still have
found myself need not be expatiated on. In what light,
then, shall I see, in what words shall I relate, the colo-
nel's kindness ^ Oh, my dear Amelia ! he has removed
the whole gloom at once, has driven ail despair out of
my mind, and has filled it with the most sanguine, and,
at the same time, the most reasonable hopes of making
a comfortable provision for yourself and my dear chil-
dren. In the first place, then, he will advance me a sum
of money to pay off all my debts ; and this on a bond to
be repaid only when I shall become colonel of a regi-
ment, and not before. In the next place, he is gone this
very morning to ask a company for me, which is now
vacant in the West Indies ; and as he intends to push
this with all his interest, neither he nor I have any
doubt of his success. Now, my dear, comes the third,
which, though perhaps it ought to give me the greatest
358 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
joy, such is, I own, the weakness of my nature, it rends
my very heart-strings asunder. I cannot mention it, for
I know it will give you equal pain, though I know, on all
proper occasions, you can exert a manly resolution.
You will not, I am convinced, oppose it, whatever you
must suffer in complying. Oh, my dear Amelia ! I must
suffer likewise; yet I have resolved to bear it. You
know not what my poor heart has suffered since he
made the proposal : it is love for you alone which could
persuade me to submit to it. Consider our situation ;
consider that of our children ; reflect but on those poor
babes whose future happiness is at stake, and it must
arm your resolution. It is your interest and theirs that
reconciled me to a proposal, which, when the colonel
first made it, struck me with the utmost horror ; he has,
indeed, from these motives, persuaded me into a resolu-
tion, which I thought impossible for any one to have
persuaded me into. Oh, my dear Amelia ! let me en-
treat you to give me up to the good of your children, as
1 have promised the colonel to give you up to their in-
terest and your own. If you refuse these terms, we are
still undone; for he insists absolutely upon them. Think,
then, my love, however hard they may be, necessity
compels us to submit to them. I know in what light a
•woman, who loves like you, must consider such a propo-
sal ; and yet, how many instances have you of women
who, from the same motives, have submitted to the
same !"
"What can you mean, Mr. Booth?" cries Ameha,
trembling.
" Need I explain my meaning to you more 1" an-
swered Booth. " Did I not say I must give up my
Amelia?"
" Give me up ?" said she.
" For a time only, I mean," answered he : " for a
short time perhaps. The colonel himself will take care
it shall not be long — for I know his heart : I shall scarce
have more joy in receiving you back, than he will have
in restoring you to my arms. In the mean time, he will
not only be a father to my children, but a husband to
you."
" A husband to me ?" said Amelia.
^'Yes, my dear; a kind, a fond, a tender, an affec-
tionate husband. If I had not the most certain assu-
rances of this, does my Amelia think I could be pre-
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 359
vailed on to leave her 1 No, my Amelia, he is the only
man on earth who could have prevailed on me ; but I
know his house, his purse, his protection, will be all at
your commanf^. ; and, as for any dislike you have con-
ceived to his wife, let not that be any objection; for I
am convinced he will not suffer her to insult you : be-
sides, she is extremely well-bred ; and how much so-
ever she may hate you in her heart, she will at least
treat you with civility. Nay, the invitation is not his,
but hers ; and I am convinced they will both behave to
you with the greatest friendship : his, I am sure, will be
sincere, as to the wife of a friend intrusted to his care ;
and hers will, from good breeding, have not only the ap-
pearances, but the effects of the truest friendship."
" I understand you, my dear, at last," said she, (indeed
she had rambled into very strange conceits from some
parts of his discourse,) *' and I will give you my resolu-
tion in a word : I will do the duty of a wife ; and that is,
to attend her husband wherever he goes."
Booth attempted to reason with her, but all to no pur-
pose. She gave, indeed, a quiet hearing to all he said,
and even to those parts which most displeased her ears ;
I mean those in which he exaggerated the great good-
ness and disinterested generosity of his friend; but her
resolution remained inflexible, and resisted the force of
all his arguments witlva steadiness of opposition which
it would have been almost excusable in him to have con-
strued into stubbornness.
The doctor arrived in the midst of the dispute ; and,
having heard the merits of the cause on both sides, de-
livered his opinion in the following words : —
" I have always thought it, my dear children, a matter
of the utmost nicety to interfere in any differences be-
tween husband and wife ; but, since you both desire me,
with such earnestness, to give you my sentiments on
the present contest between you, I will give you my
thoughts as well as I am able. In the first place, then,
can anything be more reasonable than for a wife to de-
sire to attend her husband 1 It is, as my favourite child
observes, no more than a desire to do her duty ; and I
make no doubt but that is one great reason of her insist-
ing on it. And how can you yourself oppose it? Can
love be its own enemy; or can a husband, who is fond
of his wife, content himself, almost on any account, with
a long absence from her V
360 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
" You speak like an angel, my dear Doctor Harrison,''
answered Amelia: "I am sure, if he loved as tenderly
as I do, he could on no account submit to it."
" Pardon me, child," cries the doctor ; " there are
some reasons, which would not only justify his leaving
you, but which must force him, if he has any real love
for you, joined with common sense, to make that elec-
tion. If it was necessary, for instance, either to your
good, or to the good of your children, he would not de-
serve the name of a man, I am sure not that of a hus-
band, if he hesitated a moment. Nay, in that case, I am
convinced you yourself would be an advocate for what
you now oppose. I fancy, therefore, I mistook him
when I apprehended he said that the colonel made his
leaving you behind as the condition of getting him the
commission ; for I know my dear child has too much
goodness, and too much sense, and too much resolution,
to prefer any temporary indulgence of her own passions
to the solid advantages of her whole family."
♦' There, my dear," cries Booth, " I knew what opin-
ion the doctor would be of. Nay, I am certain there is
not a wise man in the kingdom who would say other-
wise."
" Don't abuse me, young gentleman," said the doctor,
*' with appellations I don't deserve."
*'I abuse you, my dear doctor?" cries Booth.
*' Yes, my dear sir," answered the doctor ; " you in-
sinuated slyly that I was wise, which, as the world un-
derstands the phrase, I should be ashamed of; and my
comfort is, that no one can accuse me justly of it : I
have just given an instance of the contrary, by throwing
away my advice."
" I hope, sir," cries Booth, " that will not be the
case."
" Yes, sir," answered the doctor, " I know it will be
the case in the present instance ; for either you will not
go at all, or my little turtle here will go with you."
" You are in the right, doctor," cries Amelia.
"I am sorry for it," said the doctor; *'for then, I as-
sure you, you are in the wrong."
" Indeed," cries Amelia, " if you knew all my reasons,
you would say they were very strong ones."
"Very probably," cries the doctor: "the knowledge
that they are in the wrong is a very strong reason to
some wonien to continue so."
THE HISTORV OF AiMELIA. 361
" Nay, doctor," cries Amelia, " you shall never per-
suade me of that. I will not believe that any human
being ever did an action merely because they knew it to
be wrong."
" I am obliged to you, my dear child," said the doctor,
" for declaring your resolution of not being persuaded.
Your husband would never call me a wise man again,
if, after that declaration, 1 should attempt to persuade
you."
" Well, I must be content," cries Amelia, ** to let you
think as you please."
" That is very gracious, indeed !" said the doctor.
" Surely, in a country where the church suffers others to
think as they please, it would be very hard if they had
not themselves the same liberty. And yet, as unreason-
able as the power of controlling men's thoughts is repre-
sented, I will show you how you shall control mine
whenever you desire it."
" How, pray ?" cries Amelia : " I should greatly esteem
that power."
" Why, whenever you act like a wise woman," cries
the doctor, " you will force me to think you so : and,
whenever you are pleased to act as you do now, I shall
be obliged, whether I will or no, to think as I do now."
" Nay, dear doctor," cries Booth, " I am convinced my
Ameha will never do anything to forfeit your good opin-
ion. Consider but the cruel hardship of what she is to
undergo, and you will make allowances for the difficulty
she makes in complying. To say the truth, when I ex-
amine my own heart, I have more obligations to her than
appear at first sight ; for, by obliging nie to find argu-
ments to persuade her, she has assisted me in conquer-
ing myself. Indeed, if she had shown more resolution,
I should have shown less."
" So you think it necessary, then," said the doctor,
*' that there should be one fool at least in every married
couple. A mighty resolution truly, and well worth your
valuing yourself upon ! to part with your wife for a few
months, in order to make the fortune of her and your
children ; and when you are to leave her, too, in the care
and protection of a friend, that gives credit to the old
stories of friendship, and does an honour to human na-
ture. What, in the name of goodness, do either of you
think that you have made a union to endure for ever I
How will either of you bear that separation which must
31 Q
362 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
some time or other, and perhaps very soon, be the lot of
one of you 1 Have you forgot that you are both mor-
tal 1 As for Christianity, I see you have resigned all pre-
tensions to it ; for I make no doubt but that you have so
set your hearts on the happiness you enjoy here to-
gether, that neither of you ever thinks a word of here-
after."
Ameha now burst into tears; upon which Booth
begged the doctor to proceed no further. Indeed, he
would not have wanted the caution ; for, however blunt
he appeared in his discourse, he had a tenderness of
heart which is rarely found among men, for which I
know no other reason than that true goodness is rarely
found among them : for I am firmly persuaded, that the
latter never possessed any human mind in any degree,
without being attended by as large a portion of the for-
mer.
Thus ended the conversation on this subject : what
followed is not worth relating, till the doctor carried off
Booth with him to take a walk in the Park.
Chapter V. — A conversation between Amelia and Doctor Harrison,,
with the result.
Amelia, being left alone, began to consider seriously
of her condition : she saw it would be very difficult to
resist the importunities of her husband, backed by the
authority of the doctor; especially as she well knew
how unreasonable her declaration must appear to every
one who was ignorant of her real motives to persevere
in it. On the other hand, she was fully determined,
whatever might be the consequence, to adhere firmly
to her resolution of not accepting the colonel's invita-
tion.
When she had turned the matter every way in her
mind, and vexed and tormented herself with much un-
easy reflection upon it, a thought at last occurred to her,
which immediately brought her some comfort ; this was
to make a confidant of the doctor, and to impart to him
the whole truth. This method, indeed, appeared to her
now to be so advisable, that she wondered she had not
hit upon it sooner ; but it is the nature of despair to blind
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 363
US to all the moans of safety, however easy and apparent
they may be.
Having fixed her purpose in her mind, she wrote a
short note to the doctor, in which she acquainted him
that she had something of great moment to impart to
him, which must be an entire secret from her husband,
and begged that she might have an opportunity of com-
municating it as soon as possible.
Doctor Harrison received the letter that afternoon,
and immediately complied with Amelia's request in vis-
iting her. He found her drinking tea with her husband
and Mrs. Atkinson, and sat down and joined the com-
pany.
Soon after the removal of the tea-table, Mrs. Atkin-
son left the room. The doctor then, turning to Booth,
said, " I hope, captain, you have a true sense of the obe-
dience due to the church, though our clergy do not often
exact it. However, it is proper to exercise our power
sometimes, in order to remind the laity of their duty : I
must tell you, therefore, that I have some private busi-
ness with your wife ; and I expect your innnediate ab-
sence."
*' Upon my word, doctor," answered Booth, "no
popish confessor, I firmly believe, ever pronounced his
will and pleasure with more gravity and dignity : none,
therefore, was ever more immediately obeyed than you
shall be." Booth then quitted the room, and desired the
doctor to recall him when his business with the lady was
over.
Doctor Harrison promised he would ; and then, turn-
ing to Amelia, he said, " Thus far, madam, I have obeyed
your commands ; and am now ready to receive the im-
portant secret which you mention in your not€."
Amelia now informed her friend of all she knew, all
she had seen and heard, and all that she suspected of the
colonel. The good man seemed greatly shocked at the
relation, and remained in a silent astonishment. Upon
which Amelia said, " Is villany so rare a thing, sir, that
it should so much surprise you?" " No, child," cries
he, " but I am shocked at seeing it so artfully disguised
under the appearance of so much virtue; and, to confess
the truth, I believe my own vanity is a little hurt, in
having been so grossly imposed upon. Indeed, I had a
very high regard for this man ; for, besides the great
character given him by your husband, and the many
Q2
364 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
facts I have heard so much redoundhig to his honour
he has the fairest and most promising appearance I have
ever yet beheld. A good face, they say, is a letter of
recommendation. Oh, Nature, Nature, why art thou so
dishonest, as ever to send men with these false recom-
mendations into the world ?"
" Indeed, my dear sir, I begin to grow entirely sick
of it," cries Amelia ; " for sure all mankind, almost, are
villains in their hearts."
" Fy, child," cries the doctor : " do not make a con-
clusion so much to the dishonour of the great Creator.
The nature of man is far from being in itself evil; it
abounds with benevolence, charity, and pity, coveting
praise and honour, and shunning shame and disgrace.
Bad education, bad habits, and bad customs, debauch
our nature, and drive it headlong, as it were, into vice.
The governors of the world, and I am afraid the priest-
hood, are answerable for the badness of it : instead of
discouraging wickedness to the utmost of their power,
both are too apt to connive at it. In the great sin of
adultery, for instance, has the government provided any
law to punish it 1 or does the priest take any care to
correct it? on the contrary, is the most notorious prac-
tice of it any detriment to a man's fortune, or to his
reputation in the world 1 does it exclude him from any
preferment in the state, I had almost said, in the church ?
is it any blot in his escutcheon, any bar to his honour ?
is he not to be found every day in the assemblies of
women of the highest quality, in the closets of the
greatest men, and even at the tables of bishops ] What
wonder, then, if the community in general treat this
monstrous crime as matter of jest, and that men give
way to the temptations of a violent appetite, when the
indulgence of it is protected by law and countenaaced
by custom 1 I am convinced there are good stamina in
the nature of this very man ; for he has done acts of
friendship and generosity to your husband, before he
could have any evil design on your chastity ; and in a
Christian society, which 1 no more esteem this nation
to be than I do any part of Turkey, 1 doubt not but this
very colonel would have made a worthy and valuable
member."
" Indeed, my dear sir," cries Amelia, " you are the
wisest as well as best man in the world."
"Not a word of my wisdom," cries the doctor: "T
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 365
have not a grain : I am not the least versed in the chre-
matistic* art, as an old friend of mine calls it. I know-
not how to get a shilling, nor how to keep it in my
pocket if I had it."
*' But you understand human nature to the bottom,"
answered Amelia ; " and your mind is the treasury of
all ancient and modern learning."
"You are a little flatterer," cries the doctor; "but I
dislike you not for it ; and, to show you 1 don't, I will
return your flattery, and tell you you have acted with
great prudence in concealing this affair from your hus-
band ; but you have drawn me into a scrape ; for I have
promised to dine with this fellow again to-morrow, and
you have made it impossible for me to keep my word."
" Nay, but, dear sir," cries Ameha, " for Heaven's
sake take care. If you show any kind of disrespect to
the colonel, my husband may be led into some suspicion,
especially after our conference."
" Fear nothing, child : I will give him no hint ; and
that I may be certain of not doing it, I will stay away.
You do not think, I hope, that I will join in a cheerful
conversation with such a man ; that I will so far betray
my character as to give any countenance to such flagi-
tious proceedings. Besides, my promise was only con-
ditional; and I do not know whether 1 could otherwise
have kept it, for I expect an old friend every day who
comes to town tv*'enty miles on foot to see me, whom I
shall not part with on any account ; for as he is very
poor, he may imagine I treat him with disrespect."
" Well, sir," cries Amelia, " I must admire you, and
love you for your goodness."
" Must you love me ]" cries the doctor : " I could
cure you now in a minute if I pleased."
" Indeed, I defy you, sir," said Amelia.
*' If I could but persuade you," answered he, " that I
thought you not handsome, away would vanish all ideas
of goodness in an instant. Confess honestly, would
they not V
" Perhaps I might blame the goodness of your eyes,"
replied Amelia ; " and that is perhaps an honester con-
fession than you expected. But do pray, sir, be seri-
ous ; and give me your advice what to do. Consider
the difficult game I have to play ; for 1 am sure, after
* The art of getting wealth is so called by Aristotle in his politics.
31*
366 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
what I have told you, you would not even suffer me to
remain under the roof of this colonel."
" No, indeed would 1 not," said the doctor, " while I
have a house of my own to entertain you."
" But how to dissuade my husband," continued she,
" without giving him any suspicion of the real cause,
the consequences of his guessing at which I tremble to
think upon T"
" I will consult my pillow upon it," said the doctor ;
*' and in the morning you shall see me again. In the
mean time, be comforted, and compose the perturbations
of your mind."
" Well, sir," said she, " I put my whole trust in you."
" I am sorry to hear it," cries the doctor. " Your
innocence may give you a very confident trust in a much
more powerful assistance. However, 1 will do all I can
to serve you : and now, if you please, we will call back
your husband ; for, upon my word, he has shown a good
Catholic patience. And where is the honest sergeant
and his wife 1 I am pleased with the behaviour of you
both to that worthy fellow, in opposition to the custom
of the world ; which, instead of being formed on the
precepts of our religion to consider each other as breth-
ren, teaches us to regard those who are a degree below
us either in rank or fortune, as a species of beings of an
inferior order in the creation."
The captain now returned into the room, as did the
sergeant and Mrs. Atkinson; and the two couple, with
the doctor, spent the evening together in great mirth
and festivity ; for the doctor was one of the best com-
panions in the world, and a vein of cheerfulness, good-
humour, and pleasantry ran through his conversation,
with which it was impossible to resist being pleased.
Chapter VI. — Containing as surprising an accident as is perhaps re-
corded in history.
Booth had acquainted the sergeant with the great
goodness of Colonel James, and with the cheerful pros-
pects which he entertained from it : this Atkinson be-
hind the curtain communicated to his wife. The con-
clusions which she drew from it need scarce be hinted
to the reader : she made, indeed, no scruple of plainly
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 367
and bluntly telling her husband, that the colonel had a
most manifest intention to attack the chastity of Ame-
lia.
This thought gave the poor sergeant great uneasiness,
and, after having kept him long awake, tormented him
in his sleep with a most horrid dream, in which he im-
agined that he saw the colonel standing by the bedside
of Amelia, with a naked sword in his hand, and threat-
ening to stab her instantly, unless she complied with his
desires. Upon this the sergeant started up in his bed,
and, catching his wife by the throat, cried out, " D — n
you, put up your sword this instant, and leave the room,
or by Heaven I'll drive mine to your heart's blood."
This rough treatment immediately roused Mrs. Atkin-
son from her sleep, who no sooner perceived the posi-
tion of her husband, and felt his hand grasping her throat,
than she gave a violent shriek, and presently fell into a
fit.
Atkinson now waked likewise, and soon became sen-
sible of the violent agitations of his wife. He imme-
diately leaped out of bed, and running for a bottle of
water, began to sprinkle her very plentifully, but all to
no purpose : she neither spoke, nor gave any symptoms
of recovery. Atkinson then began to roar aloud ; upon
which Booth, who lay under him, jumped from his bed,
and ran up with the lighted candle in his hand. The
sergeant had no sooner taken the candle, than he ran
with it to the bedside. Here he beheld a sight which
almost deprived him of his senses. The bed appeared
to be all over blood, and his wife weltering in the midst
of it. Upon this, the sergeant, almost in a phrensy, cried
out, " Oh Heavens ! 1 have killed my wife. I have
stabbed her! I have stabbed her!" " What can be the
meaning of all this V said Booth, " Oh, sir !" cries the
sergeant, " I dreamed I was rescuing your lady from the
hands of Colonel James, and I have killed my poor
wife." Here he threw himself upon the bed by her,
caught her in his arms, and behaved like one frantic
with despair.
By this time Amelia had thrown on a wrapping-gown,
and was come up into the room where the sergeant and
his wife were lying on the bed, and Booth standing like
a motionless statue by the bedside. Ameha had some
difficulty to conquer the eflfects of her own surprise on
368 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
this occasion ; for a more ghastly and horrible sight than
the bed presented could not be conceived.
Amelia sent Booth to call up the maid of the house,
in order to lend her assistance ; but, before his return,
Mrs, Atkinson began to come to herself; and soon after,
to the inexpressible joy of the sergeant, it was discov-
ered she had no wound. Indeed, the delicate nose of
Amelia soon made that discovery, which the grosser
smell of the sergeant, and perhaps his fright, had pre-
vented him from making: for now it appeared that the
red liquor with which the bed was stained, though it may
perhaps sometimes run through the veins of a fine lady,
was not what is properly called blood ; but was, indeed,
no other than cherry-brandy, a bottle of which Mrs. At-
kinson always kept in her room to be ready for imme-
diate use ; and to which she used to apply for comfort
in all her afflictions. This the poor sergeant, in his ex-
treme hurry, had mistaken for a bottle of water. Mat-
ters were now soon accommodated, and no other mis-
chief appeared to be done, unless to the bed-clothes.
Amelia and Booth returned back to their room ; and
Mrs. Atkinson rose from her bed, in order to equip it
with a pair of clean sheets.
And thus this adventure would have ended without
producing any kind of consequence, had not the words
which the sergeant uttered in his phrensy made some
slight impression on Booth ; so much, at least, as to
awaken his curiosity ; so that, in the morning, when he
arose, he sent for the sergeant, and desired to hear the
particulars of this dream, since Amelia was concerned
in it.
The sergeant at first seemed unwilling to comply, and
endeavoured to make excuses. This, perhaps, increased
Booth's curiosity, and he said, " Nay, I am resolved to
hear it. Why, you simpleton, do you imagine me weak
enough to be affected by a dream, however terrible it
may be ?"
" Nay, sir," cries the sergeant, " as for that matter,
dreams have sometimes fallen out to be true. One of
my own, I know, did so, concerning your honour ; for
when you courted my young lady, 1 dreamed you was
married to her; and yet it was at a time when neither
I myself, nor any of the country, thought you would
ever obtain her. But, Heaven forbid this dream should
ever come to pass."
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 369
" Why, what was this dream 1" cries Booth. *' I in-
sist on knowing/'
" To be sure, sir," cries the sergeant, " I must not re-
fuse you; but I hope you will never think any more
of it. Why then, sir, I dreamed that your honour was
gone to the West Indies, and had left my lady in the
care of Colonel James ; and last night I dreamed the
colonel came to my lady's bed-side, offering to ravish
her, and, with a drawn sword in his hand, threatening
to stab her that moment unless she would comply with
his desires. How I came to be by, I know not ; but I
dreamed I rushed upon him, caught him by the throat,
and swore I would put him to death unless he instant-
ly left the room. Here I awoke, and this was my
dream. I never paid any regard to a dream in my life ;
but, indeed, I never dreamed anything so very plain
as this: it appeared downright reality. I am sure I
have left the marks of my fingers in my wife's throat.
I would not have taken a hundred pound to have used
her so."
" Faith," cries Booth, " it was an odd dream, and not
so easily to be accounted for, as that you had formerly
of my marriage ; for, as Shakspeare says, ' Dreams de-
note a foregone conclusion.' Now it is impossible you
should ever have thought of any such matter as this."
" However, sir," cries the sergeant, " it is in your hon-
our's power to prevent any possibility of this dream's
coming to pass, by not leaving my lady to the care of
the colonel : if you must go from her, certainly there
are other places where she may be with great safety ;
and, since my wife tells me that my lady is so very un-
willing, whatever reasons she may have, I hope your
honour will oblige her."
"Now I recollect it," cries Booth, "Mrs. Atkinson
has once or twice dropped some disrespectful words
of the colonel. He has done something to disoblige
her."
" He has indeed, sir," replied the sergeant : " he has
said that of her which she does not deserve, and for
which, if he had not been my superior officer, I would
have cut both his ears off. Nay, for that matter, he can
speak ill of other people besides her."
"Do you know, Atkinson," cries Booth, very grave-
ly, " that you are talking of the dearest friend I have ?"
" To be honest then," answered the sergeant, " I do
Q3
370 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
not think so. If I did, 1 should love him much better
than I do."
*' I must and will have this explained," cries Booth :
" I have too good an opinion of you, Atkinson, to think
you would drop such things as you have without some
reason, and I will know it."
*' I am sorry I have dropped a word," cries Atkinson :
" I am sure I did not intend it ; and your honour has
drawn it from me unawares."
"Indeed, Atkinson," cries Booth, "you have made
me very uneasy, and I must be satisfied."
" Then, sir," said the sergeant, " you shall give me
your word of honour; or I will be cut into ten thousand
pieces before I will mention another syllable."
" What shall 1 promise ?" said Booth.
*' That you will not resent anything I shall lay to the
colonel," answered Atkinson.
" Resent ! Well, I give you my honour," said Booth.
The sergeant made him bind himself over and over
again: and then related to him the scene which for-
merly passed between the colonel and himself, as far as
concerned Booth himself; but concealed all that more
immediately related to Amelia.
"Atkinson," cries Booth, "I cannot be angry with
you; for I know you love me, and I have many obliga-
tions to you ; but you have done wrong in censuring the
colonel for what he said of me. 1 deserve all that he
said ; and his censures proceeded from his friendship."
" But it was not so kind, sir," said Atkinson, " to say
such things to me, who am but a sergeant, and at such
a time too."
*' I will hear no more," cries Booth. " Be assured,
you are the only man I would forgive on this occasion;
and I forgive you only on condition you never speak a
word more of this nature. This silly dream has intoxi-
cated you."
" I have done, sir," cries the sergeant : " I know my
distance, and whom I am to obey ; but I have one fa-
vour to beg of your honour : never to mention a word of
what I have said to my lady ; for I know she never
would forgive me; I know she never would, by what
my wife has told me. Besides, you need not mention
it, sir, to my lady; for she knows it already, and a great
deal more."
Booth presently parted from the sergeant, having de-
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 371
sired him to close his hps on this occasion ; and repaired
to his wife, to whom he related the sergeant's dream.
Amelia turned as white as snow, and fell into so vio-
lent a trembling, that Booth plainly perceived her emo-
tion, and immediately partook of it himself. " Sure, my
dear," said he, staring wildly, " there is more in this
than 1 know. A silly dream could not so discompose
you; I beg you, I entreat you to tell me : has ever Col-
onel James — "
At the very mention of the colonel's name Amelia fell
on her knees, and begged her husband not to frighten
her.
" What do I say, my dear love," cried Booth, " that
can frighten you ?"
" Nothing, my dear," said she : " but my spirits are
so discomposed with the dreadful scene I saw last night,
that a dream, which at another time I should have
laughed at, has shocked me. Do but promise me that
you will not leave me behind you, and I am easy."
"You may be so," cries Booth; "for I will never
deny you anything. But make me easy too. I must
know if you have seen anything in Colonel James to
displease you."
" Why should you suspect it ]" cries Amelia.
" You torment me to death," cries Booth. " By
heavens, I will know the truth. Has he ever said or
done anything which you dislike V
" How, my dear," said Amelia, " can you imagine I
should dislike a man who is so much your friend ?
Think of all the obligations you have to him, and then
you may easily resolve yourself. Do you think, be-
cause I refuse to stay behind you in his house, that I
have any objection to him 1 No, my dear, had he done
a thousand times more than he has, was he an angel in-
stead of a man, I would not quit my Billy. There's the
sore, my dear; there's the misery — to be left by you."
Booth embraced her with the most passionate rap-
tures, and looking on her with inexpressible tenderness,
cried, " Upon my soul, I am not worthy of you : I am a
fool, and yet you cannot blame me. If the stupid miser
hoards with such care his worthless treasure ; if he
watches it with such anxiety ; if every apprehension of
another's sharing the least part fills his soul with such
agonies ; oh, Amelia ! what must be my condition, what
372 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
terrors must I feel, while I am watching over a jewel of
such real, such inestimable worth 1"
" I can, with great truth, return the compliment," cries
Amelia. " I have my treasure too ; and am so much of
a miser, that no force shall ever tear me from it."
" I am ashamed of my folly," cries Booth ; " and yet
it is all from extreme tenderness ; nay, you yourself are
the occasion. Why will you ever attempt to keep a
secret from me 1 Do you think I should have resented
to my friend his just censure of my conduct 1"
" What censure, my dear love?" cries Amelia.
" Nay, the sergeant has told me all," cries Booth ;
" nay, and that he has told it to you. Poor soul ! thou
couldst not endure to hear me accused, though never so
justly, and by so good a friend. Indeed, my dear, I
have discovered the cause of that resentment to the
colonel, which you could not hide from me. I love you,
I adore you for it ; indeed, I could not forgive a slighting
word on you. But why do I compare things so unlike 1
What the colonel said of me was just and true; every
reflection on my Amelia must be false and villanous."
The discernment of Amelia was extremely quick ; and
she now perceived what had happened, and how much
her husband knew of the truth. She resolved; therefore,
to humour him, and fell severely on Colonel James for
what he had said to the sergeant, which Booth endeav-
oured all he could to soften ; and thus ended this affair,
which had brought Booth to the very brink of a discov-
ery, which must have given him the highest torment, if
it had not produced any of those tragical effects which
Amelia apprehended.
Chapter VII.— In which the author appears to be master of that
profound learning called the knowledge of the town.
Mrs. James now came to pay a morning's visit to
Amelia. She entered the room with her usual gayety,
and, after a slight preface, addressing herself to Booth,
said she had been quarrelling with her husband on his
account. " I know not," said she, " what he means by
thinking of sending you the Lord knows whither. I
have insisted on his asking something for you nearer
home : and it would be the hardest thing in the world
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 373
if he should not obtain it. Are we resolved never to
encourage merit, but to throw away all our preferments
on those who do not deserve them 1 What a set of con-
temptible wretches do we see strutting about the town
in scarlet !"
Booth made a very low bow, and modestly spoke in
disparagement of himself. To which she answered,
"Indeed, Mr. Booth, you have merit: I have heard it
from my brother, who is a judge of those matters, and I
am sure cannot be suspected of flattery. He is your
friend as well as myself; and we will never let Mr.
James rest till he has got you a commission in England."
Booth bowed again, and was offering to speak, but she
interrupted him, saying, " I will have no thanks, nor no
fine speeches : if I can do you any service, I shall think
I am only paying the debt of friendship to my dear Mrs.
Bootli."
Amelia, who had long since forgotten the dislike she
had taken to Mrs. James at her first seeing her in town,
had attributed it to the right cause, and had begun to
resume her former friendship for her, expressed very
warm sentiments of gratitude on this occasion. She
told Mrs. James she should be eternally obliged to her
if she could succeed in her kind endeavours ; for that
the thoughts of parting again with her husband had given
her the utmost concern. " Indeed," added she, " I can-
not help saying, he has some merit in the service : for
he has received two dreadful wounds in it, one of which
very greatly endangered his life ; and I am convinced if
his pretensions were backed with any interest he would
not fail of success."
" They shall be backed with interest," cries Mrs. James,
" if my husband has any. He has no favour to ask for
himself, nor for any other friend that I know of; and,
indeed, to grant a man his just due ought hardly to be
thought a favour. Resume your old gayety, therefore,
my dear Emily. Lord, I remember the time when you
was much the gayer creature of the two; but you make
an arrant mope of yourself, by confining yourself at
home. One never meets you anywhere. Come, you
shall go with me to the Lady Betty Castleton's."
" Indeed, you must excuse me, my dear," answered
Amelia : " I do not know Lady Betty."
" Not know Lady Betty ! how is that possible 1 But
no matter, I will introduce you. She keeps a morning
32
374 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
rout : hardly a rout, indeed ; a little bit of a drum — only
four or five tables. Come, take your capuchin : you pos-
itively shall go. Booth, you shall go with us too : though
you are with your wife, another woman will keep you
in countenance."
" La, child," cries Amelia, "how you rattle !"
" 1 am in spirits," answered Mrs. James, " this morn-
ing, for I won four rubbers together last night ; and betted
the things, and won almost every bet. 1 am in luck, and
we will contrive to be partners. Come."
"Nay, child, you shall not refuse Mrs. James," said
Booth.
'' I have scarce seen my children to-day," answered
Amelia : " besides, I mortally detest cards."
" Detest cards ?" cries Mrs. James: "how can you be
so stupid 1 I would not live a day without them : nay,
indeed, I do not believe I should be able to exist. Is
there so dehghtful a sight in the world as the four hon-
ours in one's own hand, unless it be three natural aces
at brag 1 And you really hate cards V
" Upon reflection," cries Ameha, " I have sometimes
had great pleasure in them ; in seeing my children build
houses with them. My little boy is so dexterous, that
he will sometimes build up the whole pack."
" Indeed, Booth," cries Mrs. James, " this good woman
of yours is strangely altered since I knew her first ; but
she will always be a good creature."
"Upon my word, my dear," cries Amelia, "you are
altered too very greatly ; but I doubt not to live to see
you alter again, when you come to have as many chil-
dren as I have."
"Children I" cries Mrs. James, "you make me shud-
der. How can you envy me the only circumstance
which makes matrimony comfortable ]"
" Indeed, my dear," said Amelia, " you injure me ; for
I envy no woman's happiness in marriage." At these
words, such looks passed between Booth and his wife,
as, to a sensible bystander, would have made all the
airs of Mrs. James appear in the highest degree con-
temptible, and would have rendered herself the object
of compassion : nor could that lady avoid looking a little
silly on the occasion.
Amelia now, at the earnest desire of her husband, ac-
coutred herself to attend her friend ; but first she insisted
on visiting her children, to whom she gave several hearty
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 375
kisses ; and then recommending them to the care of
Mrs. Atkinson, she and her husband accompanied Mrs.
James to the rout, where few of my fine readers will be
displeased to make part of the company.
The two ladies and Booth then entered an apartment
beset with card-tables, like the rooms at Bath and Tun-
bridge. Mrs. James immediately introduced her friends
to Lady Betty, who received them very civilly, and pres-
ently engaged Booth and Mrs. James in a party at whist ;
for, as to Amelia, she so much declined playing, that, as
the party could be filled without her, she was permitted
to sit by.
And now, who should make his appearance but the
noble peer, of whom so much honourable mention has
already been made in this history. He walked directly
up to Amelia, and addressed her with as perfect a confi-
dence as if he had not been in the least conscious of
having in any manner displeased her ; though the reader
will hardly suppose that Mrs. Ellison had kept anything
a secret from him.
Amelia was not, however, so forgetful. She made him
a very distant courtesy, would scarce vouchsafe to an-
swer anything he said, and took the first opportunity of
shifting her chair, and retiring from him.
Her behaviour, indeed, was such, that the peer plainly
perceived that he should get no advantage by pursuing
her any further at present. Instead, therefore, of at-
tempting to follow her, he turned on his heel, and ad-
dressed his discourse to another lady ; though he could
not avoid often casting his eyes towards Amelia, as long
as she remained in the room.
Fortune, which seems generally to have been no great
friend to Mr. Booth, gave him no extraordinary marks
of her favour at play. He lost two full rubbers, which
cost five guineas ; after which, Amelia, who was uneasy
at his lordship's presence, begged him in a whisper to
return home, with which request he directly complied.
Nothing, I think, remarkable happened to Booth, un-
less the renewal of his acquaintance with an officer
whom he had known abroad, and who made one of his
party at the whist-table.
The name of this gentleman, with whom the reader
will hereafter be better acquainted, was Trent. He had
formerly been in the same regiment with Booth, and
there was some intimacy between them. Captain Trent
376 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
expressed great delight in meeting his brother officer,
and both mutually promised to visit each other.
The scenes which had passed the preceding night and
that morning had so confused Amelia's thoughts, that in
the hurry in which she was carried off by Mrs. James,
she had entirely forgotten her appointment with Dr.
Harrison. When she was informed, at her return home,
that the doctor had been to wait upon her, and had ex-
pressed some anger at her being gone out, she became
greatly uneasy, and begged her husband to go to the
doctor's lodgings, and make her apology.
But, lest the reader should be as angry with the doc-
tor as he had declared himself with Amelia, we think
proper to explain the matter. Nothing then was further
from the doctor's mind than the conception of any anger
towards Amelia. On the contrary, when the girl an-
swered him that her mistress was not at home, the doc-
tor said, with great good humour, " How ! not at home ?
then tell your mistress she is a giddy vagabond, and I
will come to see her no more till she sends for me."
This the poor girl, from misunderstanding one word,
and half forgetting the rest, had construed into great
passion, several very bad words, and a declaration that
he would never see Amelia any more.
Chaptee VIII. — In which two strangers make their appearance.
Booth went to the doctor's lodgings, and found him en-
gaged with his country friend and his son, a young gen-
tleman who was lately in orders ; both whom the doctor
had left to keep his appointment with Amelia.
After what we mentioned at the end of the last chap-
ter, we need take little notice of the apology made by
Booth, or the doctor's reception of it, which was in his
peculiar manner. " Your wife," said he, " is a vain
hussy to think herself worth my anger; but tell her, I
have the vanity myself to think I cannot be angry with-
out a better cause. And yet, tell her I intend to punish
her for her levity ; for if you go abroad, I have deter-
mined to take her down with me into the country, and
make her do penance there till you return."
" Dear sir," said Booth, " I know not how to thank
you, if you are in earnest."
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 377
" I assure you, then, I am in earnest," cries the doctor ;
" but you need not thank me, however, since you know
not how."
" But would not that, sir," said Booth, " be showing a
slight to the colonel's invitation! and you know 1 have
so many obligations to him."
" Don't tell me of the colonel," cries the doctor ; " the
church is to be first served. Besides, sir, 1 have a pri-
ority of right, even to you yourself. You stole my httle
lamb from me ; for I was her first love."
" Well, sir," cries Booth, " if I should be so unhappy
to leave her to any one, she must herself determine;
and I believe it vvil'l not be difficult to guess where her
choice will fall ; for of all men, next to her husband, I
believe none can contend with Dr. Harrison in her fa-
vour."
" Since you say so," cries the doctor, " fetch her
hither to dine with us ; for I am at least so good a
Christian to love those that love me. I will show you
my daughter, my old friend, for I am really proud of
her ; and you may bring my grandchildren with you if
you please."
Booth made some compliments, and then went on his
errand. As soon as he was gone, the old gentleman
said to the doctor, " Pray, my good friend, what daugh-
ter is this of yours 1 I never so much as heard that you
was married."
"And what then 1" cries the doctor: "did you ever
hear that a pope was married 1 and yet some of them
have had sons and daughters, I believe : but, however,
this young gentleman will absolve me without obliging
me to penance."
" 1 have not yet that power," answered the young
clergyman ; " for I am only in deacon's orders."
" Are you not V cries the doctor ; " why, then I will
absolve myself. You are to know, then, my good friend,
that this young lady was the daughter of a neighbour of
mine, who is since dead, and whose sins I hope are for-
given ; for she had too much to answer for on her child's
account. Her father was my intimate acquaintance and
friend ; a worthier man indeed, I believe, never lived.
He died suddenly when his children were infants ; and,
perhaps, to the suddenness of his death it was owing that
he did not recommend any care of them to me. How-
ever, I, in some measure, took that charge upon me ; and
32*
378 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
particularly of her whom I call my daughter. Indeed,
as she grew up, she discovered so many good qualities,
that she wanted not the remembrance of her father's
merit to recommend her. I do her no more than justice,
when T say she is one of the best creatures I ever knew.
She has a sweetness of temper, a generosity of spirit,
an openness of heart ; in a word, she has a true Christian
disposition. I may call her an Israelite, indeed, in whom
there is no guile."
" I wish you joy of your daughter," cries the old gen-
tleman ; " for, to a man of your disposition, to find out
an adequate object of your benevolence is, I acknowl-
edge, to find a treasure."
" It is, indeed, a happiness," cries the doctor.
*' The greatest difficulty," added the gentleman,
" which persons of your turn of mind meet with, is in
finding proper objects of their goodness; for nothing
sure can be more irksome to a generous mind, than to
discover that it has thrown away all its good offices on
a soil that bears no other fruit than ingratitude."
" I remember," cries the doctor, " Phocylides saith,
M^ KaKov j5 ep^Jis' andptiv icrov iar' ivl tovti^.*
But he speaks more like a philosopher than a Christian.
I am more pleased with a French writer, one of the best,
indeed, that I ever read, who blames men for lamenting
the ill return which is so often made to the best offices.f
A true Christian can never be disappointed, if he does
not receive his reward in this world ; the labourer might
as well complain that he is not paid his hire in the mid-
dle of the day."
" I own, indeed," said the gentleman, " if we see it in
that light—"
" And in what light should we see it V answered the
doctor. " Are we like Agrippa, only almost Chris-
tians 1 or is Christianity a matter of bare theory, and
not a rule for our practice 1"
" Practical, undoubtedly; undoubtedly, practical," cries
the gentleman. " Your example might indeed have con-
vinced me long ago that we ought to do good to every
one."
* To do a kindness to a bad man, is like sowing your seed in the
sea.
t D'Esprit.
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 379
" Pardon me, father," cries the young divine ; " that is
rather a heathenish than a Christian doctrine. Homer,
I remember, introduces in his Iliad one Axylus, of
whom he says,
(piXos 5' tjv avOpdiroiai'
Havrai yip (piyitcKCv .*
But Plato, who, of the heathens, came nearest to the
Christian philosophy, condemned this as impious doc-
trine ; so Eustathius tells us, foHo 474."
" I know he does," cries the doctor, "and so Barnes
tells us in his note upon the place ; but if you remem-
ber the rest of the quotation as well as you do that
from Eustathius, you might have added the observation
which Mr. Dryden makes in favour of this passage, that
he found not, in all the Latin authors, so admirable an
instance of extensive humanity. You might have hke-
wise remembered the noble sentiment with which Mr.
Barnes ends his note, the sense of which is taken from
the fifth chapter of Matthew : —
OS KOI (pdos he^ioio
Mi'y^' ayadolai kuko'kj'i t^ £it' avSpdaiv i^avariWei.
It seems, therefore, as if this character rather became a
Christian than a heathen : for Homer could not have
transcribed it from any of his deities. Whom is it,
therefore, we imitate by such extensive benevolence ]"
" What a prodigious memory you have !" cries the
old gentleman : '* indeed, son, you must not contend with
the doctor in these matters."
" I shall not give my opinion hastily," cries the son :
" I know again what Mr. Poole, in his Annotations, says
on that verse of St. Matthew : that it is only to heap
coals of fire upon their heads. How are we to under-
stand, pray, the text immediately preceding? Love
your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to
them that hate you."
" You know, I suppose, young gentleman," said the
doctor, " how these words are generally understood.
The commentator you mention, I think, tells us, that
love is not here to be taken in the strict sense, so as to
signify the complacency of the heart : you may hate
your enemies as God's enemies, and seek due revenge
* He was a friend to mankind ; for he loved them all.
380 THE HISTORY OP AMELIA.
of them for his honour; and for your own sakes, too,
you may seek moderate satisfaction of them ; but then
you are to love them with a love consistent with these
things : that is to say, in plainer words, you are to love
them and hate them, and bless and curse, and do them
good and mischief."
" Excellent ! admirable !" said the old gentleman :
*' you have a most inimitable turn to ridicule."
" I do not approve ridicule," said the son, " on such
subjects."
" Nor I neither," cries the doctor : " I will give you
my opinion, therefore, very seriously. The two verses
taken together contain a very positive precept, delivered
in the plainest words, and yet illustrated by the clearest
instance, in the conduct of the Supreme Being ; and,
lastly, the practice of this precept is most nobly en-
forced by the reward annexed — That ye may be the
children, and so forth. No man, who understands what
it is to love, and to bless, and to do good, can mistake
the meaning. But if they required any comment, the
Scripture itself affords enough : — If thine enemy hunger,
feed him ; if he thirst, give him drink ; not rendering
evil for evil, or railing for railing, but contrariwise
blessing. They do not, indeed, want the comments
of men, who, when they cannot bend their minds to the
obedience of Scripture, are desirous to wrest Scripture
to a compliance with their own inclinations."
" Most nobly and justly observed," cries the old gen-
tleman: "indeed, my good friend, you have explained
the text with the utmost perspicuity."
" But if this be the meaning," cries the son, " there
must be an end of all law and justice ; for I do not
see how any man can prosecute his enemy in a court
of justice."
" Pardon me, sir," cries the doctor. " Indeed, as an
enemy merely, and from a spirit of revenge, he cannot,
and he ought not to prosecute him ; but as an offender
against the laws of his country, he may, and it is his
duty so to do. Is there any spirit of revenge in the
magistrates or officers of justice, when they punish
criminals 1 Why do such, ordinarily I mean, concern
themselves in inflicting punishments, but because it is
their duty] and why may not a private man deliver an
offender into the hands of justice from the same lauda-
ble motive 1 Revenge, indeed, of all kinds is strictly
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 381
prohibited ; wherefore, as we are not to execute it with
our own hands, so neither are we to make use of the
law as the instrument of private malice, and to worry
each other with inveteracy and rancour. And where is
the great difficulty in obeying this wise, this generous,
this noble precept 1 If revenge be, as a certain divine,
not greatly to his honour, calls it, the most luscious
morsel the devil ever dropped into the mouth of a sin-
ner, it must be allowed at least to cost us often ex-
tremely dear: it is a dainty, if indeed it be one, which
we come at with great inquietude, with great difficulty,
and with great danger. However pleasant it may be to
the palate while we are feeding on it, it is sure to leave
a bitter rehsh behind it ; and so far, indeed, it may be
called a luscious morsel, that the most greedy appetites
are soon glutted, and the most eager longing for it is
soon turned into loathing and repentance. I allow there
is something tempting in its outward appearance ; but
it is like the beautiful colour of some poisons, from
which, however they may attract our eyes, a regard to
our own welfare commands us to abstain. And this is
an abstinence to which wisdom alone, without any di-
vine command, has been often found adequate ; with in-
stances of which, the Greek and Latin authors every-
where abound. May not a Christian, therefore, be
well ashamed of making a stumbling-block of a pre-
cept, which is not only consistent with his worldly
interest, but to which so noble an incentive is sup-
posed V
The old gentleman fell into raptures at this speech :
and after making many compliments to the doctor upon
it, he turned to his son, and told him he had an opportu-
nity now of learning more in one day than he had
learned at the university in a twelvemonth.
The son replied, that he allowed the doctrine to be
extremely good in general, and that he agreed with the
greater part; "but I must make a distinction," said he.
However, he was interrupted from his distinction at
present ; for now Booth returned with Amelia and the
children.
382 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
Chapter IX.— A scene of modem wit and humour.
In the afternoon, the old gentleman proposed a walk
to Vaiixhall ; a place of which, he said, he had heard
much, but had never seen it.
The doctor readily agreed to his friend's proposal,
and soon after ordered two coaches to be sent for to
carry the whole company : but when the servant was
gone for them, Booth acquainted the doctor that it was
yet too early. " Is it so "?" said the doctor ; " why then
I will carry you first to one of the greatest and highest
entertainments in the world."
The children pricked up their ears at this, nor did
any of the company guess what he meant; and Ameha
asked what entertainment he could carry them to at
that time of day.
" Suppose," says the doctor, " I should carry you to
court V
" At five o'clock in the afternoon V cries Booth.
" Ay, suppose I should have interest enough to intro-
duce you into the presence ?"
" You are jesting, dear sir," cries Amelia.
" Indeed, I am serious," answered the doctor. " I
will introduce you into that presence, compared to
whom the greatest emperor on the earth is many
millions of degrees meaner than the most contemptible
reptile is to him. What entertainment can there be
to a rational being equal to this 1 Were not the taste of
mankind most wretchedly depraved, where would the
vain man find an honour, or where would the love of
pleasure propose so adequate an object as divine wor-
ship ? With what ecstasy must the contemplation of
being admitted to such a presence fill the mind ! The
pitiful courts of princes are open to few, and to those
only at particular seasons; but from this glorious and
gracious presence, we are none of us, and at no time,
excluded."
The doctor was proceeding thus, when the servant
returned, saying the coaches were ready; and the
whole company with the greatest alacrity attended the
doctor to St. James's church.
When the service was ended, and they were again
got into their coaches, Amelia returned the doctor
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 383
many thanks for the light in which he had placed divine
worship; assuring him that she had never before had
so much transport in her devotion as at this time, and
saying she believed she should be the better for this
notion he had given her as long as she lived.
The coaches being come to the water side, they all
alighted, and, getting into one boat, proceeded to Vaux-
hall.
The extreme beauty and elegance of this place is
well known to almost every one of ray readers : and
happy is it for me that it is so ; since to give an adequate
idea of it would exceed my power of description. To
delineate the particular beauties of these gardens would,
indeed, require as much pains, and as much paper too,
as to rehearse all the good actions of their master;
whose life proves the truth of an observation which 1
have read in some ethic writer, that a truly elegant taste
is generally accompanied with an excellence of heart ;
or, in other words, that true virtue is, indeed, nothing
else but true taste.
Here our company diverted themselves with walking
an hour or two before the music began. Of all the
seven, Booth alone had ever been here before ; so that,
to all the rest, the place, with its other charms, had that
of novelty. When the music played, Amelia, who stood
next the doctor, said to him in a whisper, " I hope I am
not guilty of profaneness ; but, in pursuance of that
cheerful train of thoughts with which you have inspired
me this afternoon, I was just now lost in a revery, and
fancied myself in those blissful mansions which we
hope to enjoy hereafter. The delicious sweetness of
the place, the enchanting charms of the music, and the
satisfaction which appears in every one's countenance,
carried my soul almost to heaven in its ideas. I could
not have, indeed, imagined there had been anything like
this in the world."
The doctor smiled, and said, " You see, dear madam,
there may be pleasures, of which you could conceive
no idea till you actually enjoyed them."
And now the little boy, who had long withstood the
attractions of several cheesecakes that passed to and
fro, could contain no longer; but asked his mother
to give him one, saying, " 1 am sure my sister would be
glad of another, though she is ashamed to ask." The
doctor, overhearing the child, proposed that they should
^84 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
all retire to some place, where they might sit down and
refresh themselves ; which they accordingly did. Ame-
lia now missed her husband; but, as she had three men
in her company, and one of them was the doctor, she
concluded herself and her children to be safe, and
doubted not but that Booth would soon find her out.
They now sat down, and the doctor very gallantly
desired Amelia to call for what she liked. Upon which
the children were supplied with cakes ; and some ham
and chicken were provided for the rest of the company,
with which, while they were regaling themselves with
the highest satisfaction, two young fellows walking arm
in arm came up ; and when they came opposite to Ame-
lia, they stood still, staring Amelia full in the face ; and
one of them cried aloud to the other, " D — n me, my
lord, if she is not an angel !" My lord stood still, sta-
ring likewise at her, without speaking a word ; when
two others of the same gang came up, and one of them
cried, " Come along, Jack, I have seen her before ; but
she is too w^ell manned already. Three are enough for
one woman, or the devil is in it."
" D — n me," says he that spoke first, and v/hom they
called Jack, " I will have a brush at her, if she belonged
to the whole convocation." And so saying, he went up
to the young clergyman, and cried — "Doctor, sit up a
little, if you please ; and don't take up more room in a
bed than belongs to you." At which words he gave the
young man a push, and seated himself down directly
over against Amelia ; and leaning both his elbows on the
table, he fixed his eyes on her in a manner with which
modesty can neither look, nor bear to be looked at.
Amelia seemed greatly shocked at this treatment ;
upon which the doctor removed her within him, and then
facing the gentleman, asked him what he meant by this
rude behaviour. Upon which my lord stepped up and
said, " Don't be impertinent, old gentleman. Do you
think such fellows as you are to keep, d — n me, such
fine wenches, d — n me, to yourselves, d — n me 1"
" No, no," cries Jack, '* the old gentleman is more
reasonable. Here's the fellow that eats up the tithe-pig.
Don't you see how his mouth waters at her? Where's
your slabbering bib?" for though the gentleman had
rightly guessed he was a clergyman, yet he had not any
of those insignia on, with which it would have been im-
proper to have appeared there.
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 383
"Such boys as you," cries the young clergyman,
" ought to be well whipped at school, instead of being
suffered to become nuisances in society."
" Boys, sir]" says Jack : *' I believe I am as good a
man as yourself, Mr. , and as good a scholar too.
Bos fur sus quotque sacerdos. Tell me what's next.
D — n me, I'll hold you fifty pounds you don't tell me
what's next."
"You have him. Jack," cries my lord: "it is over
with him, d — n me : he can't strike another blow."
" If I had you in a proper place," cries the clergyman,
"you should find I would strike a blow, and a pretty
hard one too."
"There," cries my lord, "there is the meekness of
the clergyman. There' spoke the wolf in sheep's cloth-
ing. D — n me, how big he looks ! You must be civil
to him, faith! or else he will burst with pride."
" Ay, ay," cries Jack, " let the clergy alone for pride:
there's not a lord in the kingdom now has half the pride
of that fellow."
"Pray, sir," cries the doctor, turning to the other,
" are you a lord V
" Yes, Mr. ," cries he, " I have that honour, in-
deed."
" And I suppose you have pride too," said the doctor.
"I hope I have, sir," answered he, " at your service."
"If such a one as you, sir," cries the doctor, " who
are not only a scandal to the title you bear as a lord,
but even as a man, can pretend to pride, why will you
not allow it to a clergyman? I suppose, sir, by your
dress, you are in the army ; and, by the riband in your
hat, you seem to be proud of that too. How much
greater and more honourable is the service in which
that gentleman is enlisted than yours ! Why then should
you object to the pride of the clergy, since the lowest
of the function is in reality every way so much your
superior V
" Tida, tidu, tidum," cries my lord.
" However, gentlemen," cries the doctor, " if you have
the least pretension to that name, I beg you will put an
end to your frolic ; since you see it gives so much un-
easiness to the lady. Nay, I entreat you for your own
sakes ; for here is one coming, who will talk to you in
a very different style from ours."
33 R
386 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
" One coming V cries my lord; " what care I who is
coming?"
" I suppose it is the devil," cries- Jack ; " for here are
two of his livery servants already."
" Let the devil come as soon as he will," cries my
lord, " d — n me if I have not a kiss."
Amelia now fell a trembling ; and her children, per-
ceiving her fright, both hung on her, and began to cry ;
when Booth and Captain Trent both came up.
Booth, seeing his wife disordered, asked eagerly
what was the matter. At the same time, the lord and
his companion, seeing Captain Trent, whom they well
knew, said both together, " What, does this company
belong to you?" when the doctor, with great presence
of mind, as he was apprehensive of some fatal conse-
quence if Booth should know what had passed, said,
'' So, Mr. Booth, I am glad you are returned; your poor
lady here began to be frightened out of her wits : but
now you have him again," said he to Amelia, " I hope
you will be easy."
Amelia, frightened as she was, presently took the hint,
and greatly chid her husband for leaving her: but the
little boy was not so quick-sighted, and cried, " Indeed,
papa, those naughty men there have frightened my
mamma out of her wits."
"How!" cries Booth, a little moved; "frightened?
Has any one frightened you, my dear V
" No, my love," answered she, " nothing. I know
not what the child means. Everything is well, now I
see you safe."
Trent had been all the while talking aside with the
young sparks ; and now, addressing himself to Booth,
said, " Here has been some little mistake ; I believe
my lord mistook Mrs. Booth for some other lady."
" It is impossible," cries my lord, " to know every
one. I am sure, if I had known the lady to be a woman
of fashion, and an acquaintance of Captain Trent, I
should have said nothing disagreeable to her; but, if I
have, I ask her pardon, and the company's."
'• I am in the dark," cries Booth. " Pray, what is all
this matter?"
"Nothing of any consequence," cries the doctor,
"nor worth your inquiring into. You hear it was a
mistake of the person ; and I really believe his lordship,
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 387
that all proceeded from his not knowing to whom the
lady belonged."
" Come, come," says Trent, " there is nothing in the
matter, I assure you. I will tell you the whole an-
other time."
" Very well ; since you say so," cries Booth, " I am
contented." So ended the affair, and the two sparks
made their congee, and sneaked off.
" Now they are gone," said the young gentleman, " I
must say, I never saw two worse-bred jackanapes, nor
fellows who deserved to be kicked more. If I had had
them in another place, I would have taught them a lit-
tle more'respect to the church."
" You took rather a better way,' answered the doctor,
" to teach them that respect."
Booth now desired his friend Trent to sit down with
them, and proposed to call for a fresh bottle of wine;
but Amelia's spirits were too much disconcerted to give
her any prospect of pleasure that evening. She there-
fore laid hold of the pretence of her children, for whom
she said the hour was already too late ; with which the
doctor agreed. So they paid their reckoning and de-
parted; leaving to the two rakes the triumph of having
totally dissipated the mirth of this little innocent com-
pany, who were before enjoying complete satisfaction.
Chapter X. — A curious conversation between the doctor, the young
clergyman, and the young clergyman's father.
The next morning, when the doctor and his two friends
were at breakfast, the young clergyman, in whose mind
the injurious treatment he had received the evening be-
fore was very deeply impressed, renewed the conversa-
tion on that subject.
" It is a scandal," said he, " to the government, that
they do not preserve more respect to the clergy, by pun-
ishing all rudeness to them with the utmost severity.
It was very justly observed of you, sir," said he to the
doctor, " that the lywest clergyman in England is in
real dignity superior to the highest nobleman. What
then can be so shocking, as to see that gown, which
ought to entitle us to the veneration of all we meet,
treated with contempt and ridicule '? Are we not, in
fact, ambassadors from heaven to the world 1 and do
R2
388 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
they not, therefore, in denying us our due respect, deny
it in reality to him that sent us V
"If that be the case," says the doctor, " it behooves
them to look to themselves ; for he who sent us is able
to exact most severe vengeance for the ill treatment of
his ministers."
" Very true, sir," cries the young one ; " and I heart-
ily hope he will ; but those punishments are at too great
a distance to infuse terror into wicked minds. The
government ought to interfere with its immediate cen-
sures. Fines and imprisonments, and corporeal punish-
ments, operate more forcibly on the human mind than
all the fears of damnation."
" Do you think so ]" cries the doctor : " then I am
afraid men are very little in earnest in those fears."
" Most justly observed," says the old gentleman. " In-
deed, I am afraid that is too much the case."
" In that," said the son, " the government is to blame.
Are not books of infidelity, treating our holy religion as
a mere imposture, nay, sometimes as a mere jest, pub-
lished daily and spread abroad among the people with
perfect impunity !"
" You are certainly in the right," says the doctor :
" there is a most blameable remissness with regard to
these matters : but the whole blame does not lay there:
some little share of the fault is, I am afraid, to be im-
puted to the clergy themselves."
" Indeed, sir," cries the young one, " I did not expect
that charge from a gentleman of your cloth. Do the
clergy give any encouragement to such books 1 Do they
not, on the contrary, cry loudly out against the suffering
them 1 This is the invidious aspersion of the laity ;
and I did not expect to hear it confirmed by one of our
own cloth."
" Be not too impatient, young gentleman," said the
doctor. " I do not absolutely confirm the charge of the
laity ; it is much too general and too severe ; but even
the laity themselves do not attack them in that part to
which you have applied your defence. They are not
supposed such fools as to attack that religion to which
they owe thier temporal welfare. They are not taxed
with giving any other support to infidelity, than what it
draws from the ill example of their lives ; I mean of the
lives of some of them. Here too the laity carry their
censures too far ; for there are very few or none of the
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 389
clergy, whose lives, if compared with those of the laity,
can be called profligate ; but such, indeed, is the perfect
purity of our religion, such is the innocence and virtue
which it exacts, to entitle us to its glorious rewards,
and to screen us from its dreadful punishments, that he
must be a very good man indeed who lives up to it.
Thus then these persons argue. This man is educated
in a perfect knowledge of religion, is learned in its laws,
and is by his profession obliged, in a manner, to have
them always before his eyes. The rewards which it
promises to the obedience of these laws are so great,
and the punishments threatened on disobedience so
dreadful, that it is impossible but all men must fearfully
fly from the one, and as eagerly pursue the other. If,
therefore, such a person lives in direct opposition to,
and in a constant breach of these laws, the inference is
obvious. There is a pleasant story in Matthew Paris,
which I will tell you as well as I can remember it. Two
young gentlemen (1 think they were priests) agreed to-
gether, that whosoever died first, should return and ac-
quaint his friend with the secrets of the other world.
One of them died soon after, and fulfilled his promise.
The whole relation he gave is not very material ; but,
among other things, he produced one of his hands, which
Satan had made use of to write upon, as the moderns do
on a card ; and had sent his compliments to the priests,
for the number of souls which the wicked example of
their lives daily sent to hell. This story is the more
remarkable, as it was written by a priest, and a great
favourer of his order."
" Excellent !" cried the old gentleman : " what a mem-
ory you have !"
" But, sir," cries the young one, " a clergyman is a
man as well as another: and if such perfect purity be
expected — "
" I do not expect it," cries the doctor : " and I hope
it will not be expected of us. The Scripture itself gives
us this hope, where the best of us are said to fall twenty
times a day. But sure, we may not allow the practice
of any of those grosser crimes, which contaminate the
whole mind. We may expect an obedience to the ten
commandments, and an abstinence from such notorious
vices ; as, in the first place, avarice, which indeed can
hardly subsist without the breach of more command-
ments than one. Indeed, it would be excessive candour
33*
390 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
to imagine, that a man who so visibly sets his whole
heart, not only on this world, but on one of the most
worthless things in it, (for so is money, without regard
to its uses,) should be at the same time laying up his
treasure in heaven. Ambition is a second vice of this
sort : we are told we cannot serve God and Mammon.
I might have applied this to avarice ; but I choose
rather to mention it here. When we see a man sneak-
ing about in courts and levees, and doing the dirty work
of great men, from the hopes of preferment, can we
believe, that a fellow whom we see to have so many
hard task-masters upon earth, ever thinks of his Master
which is in heaven ? Must he not himself think, if ever
he reflects at all, that so glorious a Master will disdain
and disown a servant who is the dutiful tool of a court
favourite, and employed either as a pimp of his pleasure,
or sometimes, perhaps, made a dirty channel, to assist
in the conveyance of that corruption which is clogging
up and destroying the very vitals of his country 1
" The last vice which I shall mention is pride. There
is not in the universe a more ridiculous nor a more con-
temptible animal than a proud clergyman : a turkey-
cock or a jackdaw are objects of veneration, when com-
pared with him. I don't mean, by pride, that noble dig-
nity of mind, to which goodness can only administer an
adequate object, which delights in the testimony of its
own conscience, and could not, without the highest
agonies, bear its condemnation. By pride, I mean that
saucy passion, which exults in every little eventual pre-
eminence over other men ; such are the ordinary gifts
of nature, and the paltry presents of fortune, wit, knowl-
edge, birth, strength, beauty, riches, titles, and rank \
that passion which is ever aspiring, like a silly child, to
look over the heads of all about them ; which, while it
servilely adheres to the great, flies from the poor, as if
afraid of contamination ; devouring greedily every mur-
mur of applause, and every look of admiration ; pleased
and elated with all kind of respect, and hurt and inflamed
with the contempt of the lowest and most despicable of
fools; even with such as treated you last night disrespect-
fully at Vauxhall. Can such a mind as this be fixed on
things above 1 Can such a man reflect that he has the
ineff"able honour to be employed in the immediate ser-
vice of his great Creator? Or, can he please himself
with the heart-warming hope, that his ways are accept-
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 391
able in the sight of that glorious, that incomprehensible
Being V
" Hear, child, hear," cries the old gentleman : " hear,
and improve your understanding. Indeed, my good
friend, no one retires from you without carrying away
some good instructions with him. Learn of the doctor,
Tom. and you will be the better man as long as you
live."
" Undoubtedly, sir," answered Tom, " the doctor has
spoken a great deal of excellent truth ; and, without a
compliment to him, I was always a great admirer of his
sermons, particularly of their oratory : but,
' Nee tarnen hoc tribuens dederim quoque caetera ;'
I cannot agree that a clergyman is obliged to put up with
an affront any more than another man, and more espe-
cially when it is paid to the order."
" I am very sorry, young gentleman," cries the doc-
tor, " that you should be ever liable to be affronted as a
clergyman ; and I do assure you, if I had known your
disposition formerly, the order should never have been
affronted through you."
The old gentleman now began to check his son for
his opposition to the doctor ; when a servant delivered
the latter a note from Amelia, which he read immedi-
ately to himself, and it contained the following words : —
" My Dear Sir,
" Something has happened since I saw you, which gives me great
uneasiness ; and I beg the favour of seeing you as soon as possible,
to advise you upon it. I am your most obliged and dutiful daugh-
ter, Amelia Booth."
The doctor's answer was that he would wait on the
lady directly ; and then turning to his friend, he asked
him if he would not take a walk in the Park before din-
ner. " I must go," says he, " to the lady who was with
us last night ; for I am afraid, by her letter, some bad
accident has happened to her. Come, young gentle-
man, I spoke a little too hastily to you just now; but I
ask your pardon. Some allowance must be made to the
warmth of your blood. 1 hope we shall in time both
think alike."
The old gentleman made his friend another compli-
ment ; and the young one declared, he hoped he should
always think, and act too, with the dignity becoming his
392 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
cloth : after which the doctor took his leave for a while,
and went to Amelia's lodgings.
As soon as he was gone, the old gentleman fell very
severely on his son. "Tom," says he, "how can you
be such a fool, to undo by your perverseness all that I
have been doing 1 Why will you not learn to study man-
kind with the attention which I have employed to that
purpose 1 Do you think, if I had affronted this obstinate
old fellow as you do, I should ever have engaged his
friendship r'
" I cannot help it, sir," said Tom : " I have not studied
six years at the university to give up my sentiments to
every one. It is true, indeed, he put together a set of
sounding words ; but, in the main, I never heard any one
talk more foolishly."
" What of that f" cries the father: "I never told you
he was a wise man, nor did I ever think him so. If he
had any understanding, he would have been a bishop
long ago, to my certain knowledge : but, indeed, he
has been always a fool in private life ; for I question
whether he is worth 1001. in the world, more than his
annual income. He has given away above half his
fortune to the Lord knows who. I believe I have had
above 200/. of him, first and last ; and would you lose
such a milch cow as this for want of a few compli-
ments'? Indeed, Tom, thou art as great a simpleton as
himself. How do you expect to rise in the church, if
you cannot temporize, and give into the opinions of your
superiors 1"
" I don't know, sir," cries Tom, " what you mean by
my superiors. In one sense, I own a doctor of divinity
is superior to a bachelor of arts, and so far I am ready
to allow his superiority ; but I understand Greek and
Hebrew as well as he ; and will maintain my opinion
against him, or any other in the schools."
" Tom," cries the old gentleman, " till thou gettest the
better of thy conceit, I shall never have any hopes of
thee. If thou art wise, thou wilt think every man thy
superior of whom thou canst get anything ; at least,
thou wilt persuade him that thou thinkest so, and that is
sufficient. Tom, Tom, thou hast no pohcy in thee."
" What have I been learning these seven years," an-
swered he, " in the university I However, father, I can
account for your opinion. It is the common failing of
old men to attribute all wisdom to themselves. Nestor
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 393
did it long- ago : but if you will inquire my character at
college, I fancy you will not think I want to go to school
again."
The father and son then went to take their walk, du-
ring which the former repeated many good lessons of
policy to his son, not greatly perhaps to his edification.
In truth, if the old gentleman's fondness had not, in a
great measure, blinded him to the imperfections of his
son, he would have soon perceived that he was sowing
all his instructions in a soil so choked with self-conceit,
that it was utterly impossible they should ever bear any
fruit.
BOOK X.
CHA.PTER I. — To which we will prefix no preface.
The doctor found Amelia alone, for Booth was gone
to walk with his new-revived acquaintance, Captain
Trent, who seemed so well pleased with the renewal of
his intercourse with his old brother officer, that he had
been almost continually with him from the time of their
meeting at the drum.
Amelia acquainted the doctor with the purport of her
message as follows : " I ask your pardon, my dear sir,
for troubling you so often with my affairs; but I know
your extreme readiness, as well as ability, to assist any
one with your advice. The fact is, that my husband has
been presented with two tickets for a masquerade,
which is to be in a day or two ; and he insists so
strongly on my going with him, that I really do not
know how to refuse, without giving him some reason;
and I am not able to invent any other than the true one,
which you would not, I am sure, advise me to communi-
cate to him. Indeed, I had a most narrow escape the
other day ; for I was almost drawn in, inadvertently, by
a very strange accident, to acquaint him with the whole
matter." She then related the sergeant's dream, with
all the consequences that attended it.
The doctor considered a little with himself, and then
R3
394 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
said, " I am really, child, puzzled as well as you about
this matter. I would by no means have you go to the
masquerade : I do not indeed like the diversion itself, as
I have heard it described to me ; not that I am such a
prude to suspect every woman who goes there of any
evil intentions ; but it is a pleasure of too loose and dis-
orderly a kind for the recreation of a sober mind. In-
deed, you have a still stronger and more particular ob-
jection : I will try myself to reason him out of it."
" Indeed, it is impossible," answered she ; " and there-
fore I would not set you about it. 1 never saw him
more set on anything. There is a party, as they call it,
made on the occasion ; and he tells me my refusal will
disappoint all."
" I really do not know what to advise you," cries the
doctor ; " 1 have told you I do not approve of these diver-
sions ; but yet, as your husband is so very desirous, I
cannot think there will be any harm in going with him :
however, I will consider of it, and do all in my power
for you."
Here Mrs. Atkinson came in, and the discourse on
this subject ceased ; but soon after Amelia renewed it,
saying, there was no occasion to keep anything a secret
from her friend. They then fell to debating on the sub-
ject, but could not come to any resolution : but Mrs.
Atkinson, who was in an unusual flow of spirits, cried
out, " Fear nothing, my dear Amelia, two women surely
will be too hard for one man. I think, doctor, it exceeds
Virgil :
' Una dolo Divum si foemina victa duorum est.' "
" Very well repeated, indeed," cries the doctor. " Do
you understand all Virgil as well as you seem to do that
line ?"
" I hope I do, sir," said she, " and Horace too ; or
else my father threw away his time to very little pur-
pose in teaching me."
"I ask your pardon, madam," cries the doctor: "I
own it was an impertinent question."
" Not at all, sir," says she ; " and if you are one of
those who imagine women incapable of learning, I shall
not be offended at it. I know the common opinion ; but
» Interdum vulgus rectum videt, est ubi peccat.' "
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 395
"If I was to profess such an opinion, madam," said
the doctor, " Madame Dacier and yourself would bear
testimony against me The utmost, indeed, that I should 'j
venture, would be to question the utility of learning in a /
young lady's education."
" I own," said Mrs. Atkinson, " as the world is con-
stituted, it cannot be as serviceable to her fortune as it
will be to that of a man ; but you will allow, doctor, that
learning may afford a woman, at least, a reasonable and
an innocent entertainment."
" But I will suppose," cries the doctor, " it may have
its inconveniences : as, for instance, if a learned lady
should meet with an unlearned husband, might she not
be apt to despise him ?"
" I think not," cries Mrs. Atkinson ; " and, if I may
be allowed the instance, I think I have shown myself,
that women, who have learning themselves, can be con-
tented without that qualification in a man."
" To be sure," cries the doctor, " there may be other
qualifications, which may have their weight in the bal-
ance : but let us take the other side of the question, and
suppose the learned of both sexes to meet in the mat-
rimonial union ; may it not afford one excellent subject
of disputation, which is the most learned ?"
" Not at all," cries Mrs. Atkinson : " for, if they had
both learning and good sense, they would soon see on
which side the superiority lay."
" But if the learned man," said the doctor, " should
be a little unreasonable in his opinion, are you sure that
the learned woman would preserve her duty to her hus-
band, and submit !"
" But why," cries Mrs. Atkinson, " must we necessa-
rily suppose that a learned man would be unreason-
able V
" Nay, madam," said the doctor, " I am not your hus-
band, and you shall not hinder me from supposing what
I please. Surely it is not such a paradox to conceive
that a man of learning should be unreasonable ! Are
there no unreasonable opinions in very learned authors,
even among the critics themselves ? For instance, what
can be a more strange, and indeed unreasonable opinion,
than to prefer the Metamorphoses of Ovid to the ^Eneid
of Virgil !"
" It would be indeed so strange," cries the lady, " that
396 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
you shall not persuade me it was ever the opinion of any
man."
" Perhaps not," cries the doctor : " and I believe you
and I should not differ in our judgments of any person
who maintained such an opinion. What a taste must he
have!"
"A most contemptible one, indeed," cries Mrs. Atkin-
son.
" I am satisfied," cries the doctor ; " and, in the words
of your own Horace, Verbum non amplius addam.''^
" But how provoking is this," cries Mrs. Atkinson, " to
draw one on in such a manner ! I protest I was so warm
in the defence of my favourite Virgil, that I was not
aware of your design : but all your triumph depends on
a supposition that one should be so unfortunate as to
meet with the silliest fellow in the world."
"Not in the least," cries the doctor: " Doctor Bent-
ley was not such a person ; and yet he would have
quarrelled, I am convinced, with any wife in the world
in behalf of one of his corrections. I don't suppose he
would have given up his ingentiafata to an angel."
" But do you think," said she, " if 1 had loved him, I
would have contended with him V
"Perhaps you might sometimes," said the doctor,
*' be of these sentiments ; but you remember your own
Virgil — Varium el mntahile semper Fcemina.''^
*' Nay, Amelia," said Mrs. Atkinson, " you are now-
concerned as well as I am ; for he has now abused the
whole sex, and quoted the severest thing that ever was
said against us, though I allow it is one of the finest."
" With all my heart, my dear," cries Amelia : " I have
the advantage of you, however, for I don't understand
him."
" Nor does she understand much better than your-
self," cries the doctor ; " or she would not admire non-
sense, even though in Virgil."
*' Pardon me, sir," said she.
" And pardon me, madam," cries the doctor, with a
feigned seriousness : " I say, a boy in the fourth form
at Eton would be whipped, or would deserve to be
whipped at least, who made the neuter gender agree
with the feminine. You have heard, however, that Vir-
gil left his ^neid incorrect ; and, perhaps, had he lived
to correct it, we should not have seen the faults we nov/
see in it."
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 397
*' Why, it is very true as you say, doctor," cries Mrs.
Atkinson. " There seems to be a false concord. I pro-
test I never thought of it before."
"And yet this is the Virgil," answered the doctor,
*' that you are so fond of, who has made you all of the
neuter gender; or, as we say in English, he has made
mere animals of you : for if we translate it thus,
Woman is a various and changeable animal,
there will be no fault, I believe, unless in point of civil-
ity to the ladies."
Mrs. Atkinson had just time to tell the doctor he was
a provoking creature, before the arrival of Booth and his
friend put an end to that learned discourse, in which nei-
ther of the parlies had greatly recommended themselves
to each other ; the doctor's opinion of the lady being not
at all heightened by her progress in the classics ; and
she, on the other hand, having conceived a great dislike
in her heart towards the doctor, which would have raged,
perhaps, with no less fury from the consideration that he
had been her husband.
Chapter II.— What happened at the masquerade.
From this time to the day of the masquerade, nothing
happened of consequence enough to have a place in this
history.
On chat day Colonel James came to Booth's about
nine in the evening, where he stayed for Mrs. James,
who did not come till near eleven: the four masks then
set out together in several chairs, and all proceeded
to the Haymarket.
When they arrived at the opera-house, the colonel
and Mrs. James presently left them ; nor did Booth and
his lady remain long together, but were soon divided
from each other by different masks.
A domino soon accosted the lady, and had her away
to the upper end of the farthest room on the right hand,
where both the masks sat down ; nor was it long be-
fore the he domino began to make very fervent love to
the she. It would, perhaps, be tedious to the reader to
run through the whole process, which was not indeed in
the most romantic style. The lover seemed to consider
34
398 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
his mistress as a mere woman of this world, and seemed
rather to apply to her avarice and ambition than to her
softer passions.
As he was not so careful to conceal his true voice as
the lady was, she soon discovered that this lover of hers
was no other than her old friend the peer ; and presently
a thought suggested itself to her of making an advantage
of this accident. She gave him, therefore, an intima-
tion that she knew him, and expressed some astonish-
ment at his having found her out. " I suspect," says
she, "my lord, that you have a friend in the woman
where I now lodge, as well as you had in Mrs. Ellison."
My lord protested to the contrary ; to which she an-
swered, " Nay, my lord, do not defend her so earnestly,
till you are sure I should have been angry with her."
At these words, which were accompanied with a very
bewitching softness, my lord flew into raptures rather
too strong for the place he was in. These the lady
gently checked, and begged him to take care they were
not observed ; for that her husband, for aught she knew,
was then in the room.
Colonel James now came up, and said, " So, madamv
I have the good fortune to find you again : I have been
extremely miserable since I lost you." The lady an-
swered, in her masquerade voice, that she did not know
him. " I am Colonel James," said he, in a whisper.
" Indeed, sir," answered she, " you are mistaken : I have
no acquaintance with any Colonel James." "Madam,"
answered he, in a whisper likewise, " I am positive I am
not mistaken : you are certainly Mrs. Booth." "' Indeed,
sir," said she, " you are very impertinent, and I beg you
will leave me." My lord then interposed, and speaking-
in his own voice, assured the colonel that the lady was
a woman of quality, and that they were engaged in a
conversation together: upon which the colonel asked
the lady's pardon ; for as there was nothing remarkable
in her dress, he really believed he had been mistaken.
He then went again a hunting through the rooms, and
soon after found Booth walking without his mask be-
tween two ladies, one of whom was a blue domino, and
the other in the dress of a shepherdess. " Will," cries
the colonel, " do you know what is become of our wives?
for I have seen neither of them since we have been in
the room." Booth answered, that he supposed they
were both together, and they should find them by-and-
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 399
by. *' What," cries the lady in the blue domino, " are
you both come upon duty then with your wives 1 as for
yours, Mr. Alderman," said she to the colonel, " I make
no question but she is got into much better company
than her husband's." " How can you be so cruel, mad-
am T" said the shepherdess : " you will make him beat
his wife by-and-by ; for he is a military man, I assure
you.-' " In the trained bands, I presume," cries the
domino, '* for he is plainly dated' from the city." "I
own, indeed," cries the other, *' the gentleman smells
strongly of Thames-street ; and, if I may venture to
guess, of the honourable calling of a tailor."
-" Why, what the devil hast thou picked up here ]"
€ries James.
" Upon my soul, I don't know," answered Booth ; " I
wish you would take one of them at least."
" What say you, madam ?" cries the domino ; " will
you go with the colonel 1 I assure you, you have mis-
taken your man, for he is no less a person than the great
Colonel James himself."
^' No wonder, then, that Mr. Booth gives him his choice
of us ; it is the proper office of a caterer, in which ca-
pacity Mr. Booth has, I am told, the honour to serve the
noble colonel.'"'
*' Much good may it do you with your ladies," said
James ; " I will go in pursuit of better game." At which
words he walked off.
" You are a true sportsman," cried the shepherdess ;
■'=' for your only pleasure, I believe, lies in the pursuit,"
"Do you know the gentleman, madam!" cries the
domino.
" Who does not know him 1" answered the shep-
herdess.
" What is his character V cries the domino ; *' for
fnough I have jested with him, I only know him by sight."
^ 1 know nothing very particular in his character,"
cries the shepherdess. " He gets every handsome wo-
man he can, and so they do all."
" I suppose, then, he is not married," said the domino,
** Oh, )^es, and married for love too," answered the
other; *' but he has loved away all his love for her long
ago, and now, he says, she makes as fine an object of
hatred. I think, if the fellow ever appears to have any
wit, it is when he abuses his wife ; and, luckily for him,
400 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
that is his favourite topic. I don't know the poor wretch j
but, as he describes her, it is a miserable animal."
" 1 know her very well," cries the other, " and I am
much mistaken if she is not even with him : but hang him,
what is become of Booth V
At this instant a great noise arose near that part where
the two ladies were. This was occasioned by a large
assembly of young fellows, whom they call bucks, who
were got together, and were enjoying, as the phrase is, a
letter, whjch one of ihem had found in the room.
Curiosity has its votaries among ail ranks of people :
whenever, therefore, an object of this appears, it is as
sure of attracting a crowd in the assemblies of the polite
as in those of their inferiors.
When this crowd was gathered together, one of the
bucks, at the desire of his companions, as well as of all
present, performed the part of a public orator, and read
out the following letter, which we shall give the reader,
together with the comments of the orator himself, and
of all his audience.
The orator then, being mounted on a bench, began as
follows : —
*' Here beginneth the first chapter of— saint — pox on't,
Jack, what is the saint's name \ I have forgotten."
" Timothy, you blockhead!" answered another, " Tim-
othy.*'
" Well, then," cries the orator, " of Saint Timothy : —
" ' Sir, I am very sorry to have any occasion of writing
on the following subject in a country that is honoured
with the name of Christian; much more am I concerned
to address myself to a man, whose many advantages,
derived both from nature and fortune, should demand the
highest return of gratitude to the great Giver of all those
good things. Is not such a man guilty of the highest
ingratitude to that most beneficent Being, by a direct and
avowed disobedience of his most positive laws and com-
mands "?
*' ' I need not tell you that adultery is forbidden in the
laws of the decalogue : nor need I, I hope, mention, that
it is expressly forbidden in the New Testament.'
" You see, therefore," said the orator, "what the law
is, and therefore none of you will be able to plead igno-
rance when you come to the Old Bailey in the other
world. But here goes again : —
" ' If it had not been so expressly forbidden in Scrip-
^oorraf. CTLuJCsUixR^
/// ^ - I Ir/.jr/ // r }r/^/r
//r
I
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 401
tuie, still the law of nature would have yielded light
enough for us to have discovered the great horror and
atrociousness of this crime ; and, accordingly, we find
that nations where the Sun of Righteousness has yet
never shined, have punished the adulterer with the most
exemplary pains and penalties ; not only the most polite
heathens, but the most barbarous nations have concurred
in these ; in many places the most severe and corporeal
punishments, and in some, and those not a few, death
itself has been inflicted on this crime.
" ' And sure, in a human sense, there is scarce any
gTiilt which deserves to be more severely punished : it
includes in it almost every injury and every mischief
which one man can do to, or can bring on, another : it is ^
robbing him of his property.'
** Mind that, ladies," said the orator : " you are all the
property of your husbands : — ' And of that property,
which, if he is a good man, he values above all others.
It is poisoning that fountain, whence he has a right to
derive the sweetest and most innocent pleasure, the
most cordial comfort, the most solid friendship, and most
faithful assistance in all his affairs, wants, and distresses.
It is the destruction of his peace of mind, and even of his
reputation. The ruin of both wife and husband, and
sometimes of the whole family, are the probable conse-
quences of this fatal injury. Domestic happiness is the
end of almost all our pursuits, and the common reward
of all our pains. When men find themselves for ever
barred from this delightful fruition, they are lost to all
industry, and grow careless of all their worldly affairs.
Thus they become bad subjects, bad relations, bad friends,
and bad men : hatred and revenge are the wretched pas-
sions which boil in their minds : despair and madness
very commonly ensue : and murder and suicide often
close the dreadful scene.'
" Thus, gentlemen and ladies, you see the scene is
closed. So here ends the first act — and thus begins the
second : —
" ' 1 have here attempted to lay before you a picture
of this vice, the horror of which no colours of mine can
exaggerate. , But what pencil can delineate the horrors
of that punishment which the Scripture denounces against
it?
^^ And for what will you subject yourself to this pun-
ishment ? or for what reward will you inflict all this
34*
402 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
misery on another, I will add, on your friend 1 For the
possession of a woman ; for the pleasure of a moment :
but if neither virtue nor religion can restrain your inor-
dinate appetites, are there not many women as hand-
some as your friend's wife, whom, though not with in-
nocence, you may possess with a much less degree of
guilt ? What motive, then, can thus hurry you on to the
destruction of yourself and your friend ? Does the
peculiar rankness of the guilt add any zest to the sin ?
does it enhance the pleasure, as much as we may be
assured it will the punishment T
' ■ But if you can be so lost to all sense of fear, and of
shr.me, and of goodness, as not to be debarred by the
evil which you are to bring on yourself by the extreme
baseness of the action, nor by the ruin in which you are
to involve others, let me still urge the difficulty, I may
say the impossibility, of the success. You are attacking
a fortress on a rock ; a chastity so strongly defended, as
well by a happy natural disposition of mind, as by the
strongest principles of religion and virtue, implanted by
education and nourished and improved by habit, that the
woman must be invincible even without that firm and
constant affection of her husband, which would guard a
much looser and worse disposed heart. What, therefore,
are you attempting, but to introduce distrust, and perhaps
disunion, between an innocent and a happy couple, iii
which, too, you cannot succeed, without bringing, I an^
convinced, certain destruction on your own head >
" ' Desist, therefore, let me advise you, from this enor-.
mous crime ; retreat from the vain attempt of climbing
a precipice which it is impossible you should ever ascend,
where you must probably soon fall into utter perdi-
tion, and can have no other hope but of dragging down
your best friend into perdition with you.
"' I can think of but one argument more, and that, in-
deed, a very bad one ; you throw away that time in an
impossible attempt, which might, in other cases, crown
your sinful endeavours with success.'
" And so ends the dismal ditty."
"D — n me," cries one, "did ever mortal hear such
d— d stuff?"
" Upon my soul," said another, " I like the last argu-
ment well enough. There is some sense in that ; for,
d — n me, if I had not rather go to D — g — ss at any time,
than to follow a virtuous b— h for a fortnight,"
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA 403
" Tom," says one of them, " let us set the ditty to
music : let us subscribe to have it set by Handel : it will
make an excellent oratorio."
" D — n me, Jack," says another, "we'll have it set to
a psalm tune, and we'll sing it next Sunday at St. James's
church, and I'll bear a bob, d — n me."
" JFy upon it ! gentlemen, fy upon it !" said a friar, who
came up ; " do you think there is any wit and humour
in this ribaldry 1 or, if there were, would it make any
atonement for abusing religion and virtue ?"
" Heyday !" cries one, " this is a friar in good ear-
nest."
" Whatever I am," said the friar, " I hope at least you
are what you appear to be. Heaven forbid, for the sake
of our posterity, that you should be gentlemen."
" Jack," cries one, " let us toss the friar in a blanket."
"Me in a blanket?" said the friar; "by the dignity of
man, I will twist the neck of every one of you as sure as
ever the neck of a dunghill cock was twisted." At
which words he pulled off his mask, and the tremendous
majesty of Colonel Bath appeared, from which the bucks
fled away as fast as the Trojans heretofore from the face
of Achilles. The colonel did not think it worth while to
pursue any other of them except him who had the letter
in his hand, which the colonel desired to see, and the
other delivered, saying it was very much at his service.
The colonel, being possessed of the letter, retired as
privately as he could, in order to give it a careful peru-
sal ; for, badly as it had been read by the orator, there
"were some passages in it which had pleased the colonel.
He had just got through it when Booth passed by him ;
upon which the colonel called to him, and, delivering
him the letter, bid him put it in his pocket and read it at
his leisure. He made many encomiums upon it, and told
Booth it would be of service to him, and was proper for
all young men to read.
Booth had not yet seen his wife ; but as he concluded
she was safe with Mrs. James, he was not uneasy. He
had been prevented searching further after her by the
lady in the blue domino, who had joined him again.
Booth had now made these discoveries : that the lady
was pretty well acquainted with him ; that she was a
woman of fashion ; and that she had a particular regard
for him. But, though he was a gay man, he was in
reality so fond of his Amelia, that he thought of no other
404 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
'woman ; wherefore, though not absolutely a Joseph, as
we have already seen, yet could he not be guilty of
premeditated inconstancy. He was, indeed, so very
cold and insensible to the hints which were given him,
that the lady began to complain of his dulness. When
the shepherdess again came up, and heard this accusa-
tion against him, she confirmed it, saying, '* I do assure
you, madam, he is the dullest fellow in the world. In-
deed, I should almost take you for his wife, by finding
you a second time with him ; for I do assure you the
gentleman very seldom keeps any other company."
" Are you so well acquainted with him ]" said the dom-
ino. " I have had that honour longer than your lady-
ship, I believe," answered the shepherdess. " Possibly
you may, madam," cries the domino; "but I wish you
would not interrupt us at present, for we have some
business together." " I believe, madam," answered the
shepherdess, " my business with the gentleman is alto-
gether as important as yours, and therefore your lady-
ship may withdraw if you please." " My dear ladies,"
cries Booth, " I beg you will not quarrel about me."
" Not at all," answered the domino ; " since you are so
indifferent, I resign my pretensions with all my heart.
If you had not been the dullest fellow upon earth, I am
convinced you must have discovered me." She then
went off, muttering to herself, that she was satisfied the
shepherdess was some wretched creature whom nobody
knew.
The shepherdess overheard the sarcasm, and answered
it by asking Booth what contemptible wretch he had
picked up. " Indeed, madam," said he, " you know as
much of her as I do ; she is a masquerade acquaintance
like yourself." " Like me !" repeated she. " Do you
think, if this had been our first acquaintance, I should
have wasted so much time with you as I have ? For
your part, indeed, I believe a woman will get very little
advantage by her having been formerly intimate with
you." " I do not know, madam," said Booth, " that I
deserve that character, any more than I know the person
that now gives it to me." " And you have the assurance,
then," said she, in her own voice, " to aftect not to re-
member me ?" " I think," cries Booth, " I have heard
that voice before ; but, upon my soul, I do not recollect
it." " Do you recollect," said she, " no woman that you
have used with the highest barbarity — I will not say in-
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 405
gratitude 1" " No, upon my honour," answered Booth.
" Mention not honour," said she, " thou wretch ; for,
hardened as thou art, I could show thee a face, that, in
spite of thy consummate impudence, would confound
thee with shame and horror. Dost thou not yet know
me]" "I do, madam, indeed," answered Booth; "and
I confess, that, of all women in the world, you have the
most reason for what you said."
Here a long dialogue ensued between the gentleman
and the lady, whom, I suppose, I need not mention to
have been Miss Matthews: but, as it consisted chiefly
of violent upbraidings on her side and excuses on his,
I despair of making it entertaining to the reader, and
shall therefore return to the colonel, who, having
searched all the rooms with the utmost diligence with-
out finding the woman he looked for, began to suspect
that he had before fixed on the right person, and that
Amelia had denied herself to him, being pleased with
her paramour, whom he had discovered to be the noble
peer.
He resolved, therefore, as he could have no sport him-
self, to spoil that of others : accordingly he found out
Booth, and asked him again what was become of both
their wives ; for that he had searched all over the rooms,
and could find neither of them.
Booth was now a httle alarmed at this account ; and,
parting with Miss Matthews, went along with the colonel
in search of his wife. As for Miss Matthews, he had at
length pacified her with a promise to make her a visit ;
which promise she extorted from him, swearing bitterly,
in the most solemn manner, unless he made it to her,
she would expose both him and herself at the masquer-
ade.
As he knew the violence of the lady's passions, and
to what heights they were capable of rising, he was
obliged to come into these terms ; for he had, I am con-
vinced, no fear upon earth equal to that of Amelia's
knowing what it was in the power of Miss Matthews to
communicate to her, and which to conceal from her he
had already undergone so much uneasiness.
The colonel led Booth directly to the place where he
had seen the peer and Amelia (such he was now well
convinced she was) sitting together. Booth no sooner
saw her, than he said to the colonel, " Sure, that is my
wife in conversation with that mask I" " I took her for
406 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
your lady myself," said the colonel ; " but I found I was
mistaken. Hark'ee, that is my Lord , and I have
seen that very lady with him all this night."
This conversation passed at a little distance, and out
of the hearing of the supposed Amelia : when Booth,
looking steadfastly ai the lady, declared, with an oath,
that he was positive the colonel was in the right. She
then beckoned to him with her fan ; upon which, he
M'ent directly to her ; and she asked him to go home,
which he very readily consented to. Tlie peer then
walked off; the colonel went in pursuit of his wife, or
of some other woman ; and Booth and his lady repaired
in two chairs to their lodgings.
Chapter III. — Consequences of the masquerade, not uncommon
nor surprising.
The lady, getting first out of her chair, ran hastily up
into the nursery to the children : for such was Amelia's
constant method at her return home, at whatever hour.
Booth then walked into the dining-room, where he had
not been long, before Amelia can»e down to him, and,
with a most cheerful countenance, said, " My dear, I
fancy we have neither of us supped : shall I go down
and see whether there is any cold meat in the house 1"
" For yourself, if you please," answered Booth ; " but
I shall eat nothing."
" How, my dear?" said Amelia. "I hope you have
not lost your appetite at the masquerade." For supper
was a meal at which he generally ate very heartily.
"I know not well what I have lost," said Booth: "I
find myself disordered: my head aches. I know not
what is the matter with me."
"Indeed, my dear, you frighten me," said Amelia:
"you look indeed disordered. I wish the masquerade
had been far enough before you had gone thither."
"Would to Heaven it had!" cries Booth; " but that
is over now. But pray, Amelia, answer n>e one ques-
tion : who was that gentleman with you when 1 came
up to you 1"
" The gentleman, my dear !" said Amelia, " what gen-
tleman ?"
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 407
"The gentleman, the nobleman, when I came up:
sure I speak plain."
" Upon my word, my dear, I don't understand you,"
answered she : " 1 did not know one person at the mas-
querade."
" How !" said he, " what ! spend the whole evening
with a mask without knowing him 1"
" Why, my dear," said she, " you know we were not
together."
" I know we were not," said he ; " but what is that to
the purpose 1 sure you answer me strangely. I know
we were not together; and therefore I ask you whom
you were withi"
" Nay, but, my dear," said she, *' can I tell people in
masks ]"
" I say again, madam," said he, " would yon converse
two hours or more with a mask whom you did not
know ]"
" Indeed, child," says she, " I know nothing of the
methods of a masquerade ; for I never was at one in my
life."
" I wish to Heaven you had not been at this," cries
Booth. " Nay, you will wish so yourself, if you tell me
truth. What have I said? do 1, can I suspect you of
not speaking truth 1 Since you are ignorant then, I will
inform you: the man you have conversed with was no
other than Lord ."
" And is that the reason," said she, " you wish I had
not been there ?"
"And is not that reason," answered he, *' sufficient?
Is he not the last man upon earth with whom I would
have you converse V
" So you really wish, then, that I had not been at the
masquerade V
" 1 do," cried he, " from my soul."
" So may I ever be able," cried she, " to indulge you
in every wish as in this ! I was not there."
" Do not trifle, Amelia," cried he : " you would not
jest with me if you knew the situation of my mind."
*' Indeed, I do not jest with you," said she. " Upon
my honour, I was not there. Forgive me this first de-
ceit I ever practised, and indeed it shall be the last ; for
I have paid severely for this by the uneasiness it has
given me." She then revealed the whole secret, which
was this :
408 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
I think it has been already mentioned, in some part of
this history, that Amelia and Mrs. Atkinson were ex-
actly of the same make and stature, and that there was
likewise a very near resemblance between their voices.
When Mrs. Atkinson, therefore, found that Amelia was
so extremely averse to the masquerade, she proposed to
go thither in her stead, and to pass upon Booth for his
own wife.
This was afterward very easily executed ; for, when
they left Booth's lodgings, Amelia, who went last to her
chair, ran back to fetch her mask, as she pretended,
which she had purposely left behind. She then whipped
off her domino, and threw it over Mrs. Atkinson, who
stood ready to receive it, and ran immediately down
stairs ; and, stepping into Amelia's chair, proceeded with
the rest to the masquerade.
As her stature exactly suited that of Amelia, she had
very little difficulty to carry on the imposition ; for, be-
sides the natural resemblance of their voices, and the
opportunity of speaking in a feigned one, she had scarce
an intercourse of six words with Booth during the whole
time ; for the moment they got into the crowd, she took
the first opportunity of slipping from him ; and he, as
the reader may remember, being seized by other women,
and concluding his wife to be safe with Mrs. James, was
very well satisfied, till the colonel set him upon the
search, as we have seen before.
Mrs. Atkinson, the moment she came home, ran up
stairs to the nursery, where she found Amelia, and told
her, in haste, that she might very easily carry on the de-
ceit with her husband ; for that she might tell him what
she pleased to invent, as they had not been a minute to-
gether during the whole evening.
Booth was no sooner satisfied that his wife had not
been from home that evening, than he fell into raptures
with her, gave her a thousand tender caresses, blamed
his own judgment, acknowledged the goodness of hers,
and vowed never to oppose her will more in any one
instance during his life.
Mrs. Atkinson, who was still in the nursery with her
masquerade dress, was then summoned down stairs ;
and when Booth saw her, and heard her speak in a
mimic tone, he declared he was not surprised at his
having been imposed upon ; for that if they were both
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 409
ill the same disguise, he should scarce be able to dis-
cover the difference between them.
They then sat down to half an hour's cheerful con-
versation ; after which they retired all in the most per-
fect good-humour.
Chapter IV.— Consequences of the masquerade.
When Booth rose in the morning, he found in his
pocket that letter which had been delivered to him by
Colonel Bath, which, had not chance brought to his re-
membrance, he might possibly have never recollected.
He had now, however, the curiosity to open the letter,
and beginning to read it, the matter of it drew him on,
till he perused the whole ; for, notwithstanding the con-
tempt cast upon it by those learned critics, the bucks,
neither the subject, nor the manner in which it was
treated, was altogether contenjptible.
But there was still another motive which induced
Booth to read the whole letter; and this was, that he
presently thought he knew the hand. He did, indeed,
immediately conclude it was Doctor Harrison's, for the
doctor wrote a very remarkable one ; and this letter con-
tained all the particularities of the doctor's character.
He had just finished a second reading of this letter,
when the doctor himself entered the room. The good
man was impatient to know the success of Amelia's
stratagem ; for he bore towards her all that love which
esteem can create in a good mind, without the assist-
ance of those selfish considerations, from which the love
of wives and children maybe ordinarily deduced ; the
latter of which, Nature, by very subtle and refined rea-
soning, suggests to us to be part of our dear selves ; and
the former, as long as they remain the objects of our
liking, that same Nature is furnished with very plain and
fertile arguments, to recommend to our afiections. But
to raise that affection in the human breast which the
doctor had for Amelia, Nature is forced to use a kind of
logic, which is no more understood by a bad man than
Sir Isaac Newton's doctrine of colours is by one born
blind : and yet, in reality, it contains nothing more ab-
struse than this ; that an injury is the object of anger,
danger of fear, and praise of vanity ; for in the same
35 S
410 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
simple manner it may be asserted, that goodness is the
object of love.
The doctor inquired immediately for his child, for so
he often called Amelia : Booth answered, that he had
left her asleep, for that she had had but a restless night.
" I hope she is not disordered by the masquerade,"' cries
the doctor. Booth answered, he believed she would be
very well when she waked. " I fancy," said he, " her
gentle spirits were a little too much fluttered last night ;
that is all."
" I hope, then," said the doctor, " you will never more
insist on her going to such places, but know your own
happiness in having a wife that has the discretion to
avoid those places ; which, though perhaps they may
not be, as some represent them, such brothels of vice
and debauchery as would impeach the character of ev-
ery virtuous woman who was seen at them, are cer-
tainly, however, scenes of riot, disorder, and intemper-
ance, very improper to be frequented by a chaste and
sober Christian matron."
Booth declared that he was very sensible of his error ;
and that, so far from soliciting his wife to go to another
masquerade, he did not intend ever to go thither any
more himself.
The doctor highly approved the resolution ; and then
Booth said, " And I thank you, my dear friend, as well
as my wife's discretion, that she was not at the masquer-
ade last night." He then related to the doctor the dis-
covery of the plot ; and the good man was greatly
pleased with the success of the stratagem, and that
Booth took it in such good part.
" But, sir," says Booth, " I had a letter given me by a
lioble colonel there, which is written in a hand so very
like yours, that I could almost swear to it. Nor is the
style, as far as I can guess, unlike your own: here it is,
sir. Do you own the letter, doctor, or do you not ?"
The doctor took the letter, and having looked at it a
moment, said — " And did the colonel himself give you
this letter V
" The colonel himself," answered Booth.
" Why, then," cries the doctor, " he is surely the most
impudent fellow that the world ever produced. What,
did he deliver it with an air of triumph?"
" He delivered it me with air enough," cries Booth,
" after his owai manner, and bid me read it for my edifi-
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 411
cation. To say the truth, I am a little surprised that he
should single me out of all mankind to deliver the letter
to : I do not think I deserve the character of such a hus-
band. It is well I am not so very forward to take an af-
front as some folks."
"I am glad to see you are not," said the doctor;
'• and your behaviour in this affair becomes both the man
of sense and the Christian; for, it would be surely the
greatest folly, as well as the most daring impiety, to risk
your own life for the impertinence of a fool. As long
as you are assured of the virtue of your own wife, it is
wisdom in you to despise the efforts of such a wretch.
Not, indeed, that your wife accuses him of any down-
right attack, though she has observed enough in his be-
haviour to give offence to her delicacy."
" You astonish me, doctor," said Booth. " What can
you mean? my wife dislike his behaviour! Has the
colonel ever offended her V
" I do not say he has ever offended her by any open
declarations ; nor has he done anything which, accord-
ing to the most romantic notion of honour, you can, or
ought to resent ; but there is something extremely nice
in the chastity of a truly virtuous woman."
" And has my wife really complained of anything of
that kind in the colonel ]"
" Look ye, young gentleman," cries the doctor, " I
will have no quarrelling or challenging; I find I have
made some mistake, and therefore I insist upon it, by all
the rights of friendship, that you give me your word of
honour you will not quarrel with the colonel on this ac-
count."
" I do, with all my heart," said Booth ; " for, if I did not
know your character, I should absolutely think you was
jesting with me. I do not think you have mistaken my
wife, but I am sure she has mistaken the colonel ; and
has misconstrued some overstrained point of gallantry,
something of the Quixote kind, into a design against her
chastity : but I have that opinion of the colonel, that I
hope you will not be offended, when I declare, I know
not which of you two I should be the sooner jealous of."
" 1 would by no means have you jealous of any one,"
cries the doctor; "for I think my child's virtue may be
firmly rehed on ; but I am convinced she would not have
said what she did to me without a cause ; nor should I,
without such a conviction, have written that letter to
S2
412 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
the colonel, as I own to you I did. However, nothing I
say has yet passed, which, even in the opinion of fnlse
honour, you are at liberty to resent ; but as to declining
any great intimacy, if you will take my advice, I think
that would be prudent."
" You will pardon me, my dearest friend," said Booth:
"but 1 have really such an opinion of the colonel, that I
would pawn my life upon his honour; and as for wo-
men, I do not believe he ever had an attachment to any."
" Be it so," said the doctor. " I have only two things
to insist on ; the first is, that if ever you change your
opinion, this letter may not be the subject of any quar-
relling or fighting; the other is, that you never mention
a word of this to your wife. By the latter, I shall see
Mhether you can keep a secret; and if it is no otherwise
material, it will be a wholesome exercise to your mind;
for the practice of any virtue is a kind of mental exer-
cise, and serves to maintain the health and vigour of the
soul."
"I faithfully promise both," cries Booth. And now
the breakfast entered the room, as did, soon after, Ame-
lia and Mrs. Atkinson.
The conversation ran chiefly on the masquerade, and
Mrs. Atkinson gave an account of several adventures
there ; but whether she told the whole truth with regard
to herself, I will not determine; for certain it is, she
never once mentioned the name of the noble peer.
Among the rest, she said there was a young fellow that
had preached a sermon there upon a stool, in praise of
adultery, she believed ; for she could not get near enough
to hear the particulars.
During that transaction. Booth had been engaged with
the blue domino in another room, so that he knew noth-
ing of it ; so that what Mrs. Atkinson had now said,
only brought to his mind the doctor's letter to Colonel
Bath, for to him he supposed it was written ; and the
idea of the colonel's being a lover to Amelia struck him .
in so ridiculous a light, that it threw him into a violent fit
of laughter.
The doctor, who, from the natural jealousy of an au-
thor, imputed the agitation of Booth's muscles to his
own sermon, or letter, on that subject, was a little of-
fended, and said, gravely, " I should be glad to know
the reason of this immoderate mirth. Is adultery a
matter of jest in your opinion ?"'
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 413
" Far otherwise," answered Booth : " but how is it
possible to refrain from laughter, at the idea of a fellow's
preaching a sermon in favour of it at such a place 1"
" I am very sorry," cries the doctor, " to find the age
is grown to so scandalous a degree of licentiousness,
that we have thrown off not only virtue, but decency.
How abandoned must be the manners of any nation,
where such insults upon religion and morality can be
committed with impunity ! No man is fonder of true
wit and humour than myself; but to profane sacred
things with jest and scoffing, is a sure sign of a weak
and a wicked mind. It is the very vice which Homer
attacks in the odious character of Thersites. The la-
dies must excuse my repeating the passage to you, as I
know you have Greek enough to understand it : —
' "Os y ETTca (ppealv ijffiv aKOffjxd rt ttqWol te tjSr/,
Mdip anlp oh Kard k6(Tijlov epi^lfizvai (iaciXcvOiv,
'AXX' 0, Ti ol eiaairo yeXouov 'Apydotciv
And immediately adds —
^a'iaj^iffTos it avfjp {itto "iXiov ^Xde.'i
Horace again describes such a rascal : —
' Solutos
Qui captat risus hominum, famamque dicacis ;'t
And says of him,
* Hie niger est ; hunc tu, Romane, caveto.' "^
" Oh, charming Homer !" said Mrs. Atkinson : " how
much above all other writers !"
" I ask your pardon, madam," said the doctor : " I for-
got you was a scholar; but, indeed, I did not know you
understood Greek as well as Latin."
* Thus paraphrased by Mr. Pope : —
" Awed by no shame, by no respect controll'd,
In scandal busy, in reproaches bold :
With witty malice, studious to defame ;
Scorn all his joy, and laughter all his aim."
t " He was the greatest scoundrel in the whole army."
X " Who trivial bursts of laughter strives to raise,
And courts of prating petulance the praise."— Francis.
(} " This man is black ; do thou, oh Roman ! shun this man."
35*
414 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
" I do not pretend," said she, " to be a critic in the
Greek ; but I think I am able to read a little of Homer,
at least with the help of looking now and then into the
Latin."
"Pray, madam," said the doctor, "how do you like
this passage in the speech of Hector to Andromache ]—
* £(? oiKov lov<T'i Ta aavrrjs £pya Koni^s,
'lar(iv r' iiXuKdrrjv rs, Kai iifi(piz6Xoi(7i KiXtve
"Epyov i-ol^saOai.^*'
Or, how do you like the character of Hippodamia, who,
by being the prettiest girl and best workwoman of her
age, got one of the best husbands in all Troy ' I think,
indeed, Homer enumerates her discretion with her other
qualifications ; but I do not remember he gives us one
character of a woman of learning. Don't you conceive
this to be a great omission in that charming poet 1 How-
ever, Juvenal makes you amends, for he talks very abun-
dantly of the learning of the Roman ladies in his time."
" You are a provoking man, doctor," said Mrs. Atkin-
son : " where is the harm in a woman's having learning
as well as a man V
" Let me ask you another question," said the doctor :
" where is the harm in a man's being a fine performer
with a needle as well as a woman? And yet, answer
me honestly ; would you greatly choose to marry a man
with a thimble upon his finger 1 Would you, in earnest,
think a needle became the hand of your husband as well
as a halberd ?"
" As to war, I am with you," said she : " Homer him-
self, I well remember, makes Hector tell his wife that
warlike works — what is the Greek word ]— Pollemy —
something — belonged to men only ; and I readily agree
to it. I hate a masculine woman, an Amazon, as much
as you can do ; but what is there masculine in learn-
ing?"
" Nothing so masculine, take my word for it. As for
your Pollemy, I look upon it to be the true characteris-
tic of a devil: so Homer everywhere characterizes
Mars."
" Indeed, my dear," cries the sergeant, "you had bet-
ter not dispute with the doctor ; for, upon my word, he
will be too hard for you."
* " Go home, and mind your own business : follow your spinning,
and keep your maids to their work."
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 415
" Nay, I beg you will not interfere," cries Mrs. Atkin-
son : " I am sure you can be no judge in these matters."
At which the doctor and Booth burst into a lond
laugh ; and Amelia, though fearful of giving her friend
offence, could not forbear a gentle smile.
" You may laugh, gentlemen, if you please," said Mrs.
Atkinson ; " but 1 thank Heaven, 1 have married a man
who is not jealous of my understanding. I should have
been the most miserable woman upon earth with a
starched pedant, who was possessed of that nonsensical
opinion, that the difference of sexes causes any differ-
ence in the mind. Why don't you honestly avow the
Turkish notion, tHat women have no souls 1 for you say
the same thing in effect."
" Indeed, my dear," cries the sergeant, greatly con-
cerned to see his wife so angry, "you have mistaken
the doctor."
" I beg, my dear," cried she, " you will say nothing
upon these subjects : I hope you at least do not despise
my understandmg."
" I assure you 1 do not," said the sergeant ; " and I
hope you will never despise mine ; for a man may have
some understanding, I hope, without learning."
Mrs. Atkinson reddened extremely at these words;
and the doctor, fearing he had gone too far, began to
soften matters, in which Amelia assisted him. By these
means, the storm rising in Mrs. Atkinson before, was in
some measure laid, at least suspended from bursting at
present ; but it fell afterward upon the poor sergeant's
head in a torrent, who had learned perhaps one maxim
from his trade, that a cannon ball always does mischief
in proportion to the resistance it meets with, and that
nothing so effectually deadens its force as a woolpack.
The sergeant therefore bore all with patience ; and the
idea of a woolpack, perhaps, bringing that of a feather-
bed into his head, he at last not only quieted his wife,
but she cried out with great sincerity, " Well, my dear,
I will say one thing for you ; that I believe from my
soul, though you have no learning, you have the best
understanding of any man upon earth ; and I must own I
think the latter far the more profitable of the two."
Far different was the idea she entertained of the doc-
tor, whom, from this day, she considered as a conceited
pedant ; nor could all Amelia's endeavours ever alter her
sentiments.
416 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
The doctor now took his leave of Booth and his wife
for a week, he intending to set out within an hour or
two with his old friend, with whom our readers were a
little acquainted at the latter end of the ninth book, and
of whom, perhaps, they did not then conceive the most
favourable opinion.
Nay, I am aware that the esteem which some readers
before had for the doctor may be here lessened ; since
he may appear to have been too easy a dupe to the gross
flattery of the old gentleman. If there be any such
critics, we are heartily sorry, as well for them as for the
doctor ; but it is our business to discharge the part of a
faithful historian, and to describe human nature as it is,
not as we would wish it to be.
Chapter V. — In which Colonel Bath appears in great glory.
That afternoon, as Booth was walking in the Park, he
met with Colonel Bath, who presently asked him for the
letter which he had given him the night before ; upon
which Booth immediately returned it.
" Don't you think," cries Bath, " it is written with
great dignity of expression, and emphasis of— of — of
judgment?"
" I am surprised, though," cries Booth, " that anyone
should write such a letter to you, colonel."
" To meV said Bath. " What do you mean, sir? I
hope you don't imagine any man durst write such a letter
to me 1 d — n me, if I knew a man who thought me capa-
ble of debauching my friend's wife, I would — d — n me — "
" I believe, indeed, sir," cries Booth, " that no man
living dares put his name to such a letter ; but you see
it is anonymous."
" I don't know what you mean by ominous," cries the
colonel ; " but blast my reputation, if I had received such
a letter, if I would not have searched the world to have
found the writer. D — n me, I would have gone to the
East Indies to have pulled off his nose."
" He would, indeed, have deserved it," cried Booth.
" But, pray, sir, how came you by it ]"
" I took it," said the colonel, " from a set of idle young
rascals, one of whom was reading it out aloud upon a
stool ; while the rest were attempting to make a jest,
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 417
not only of the letter, but of all decency, virtue, and re-
ligion ; a set of fellows ♦hat you must have seen or heard
of about town, that are, d — n me, a disgrace to the dig-
nity of manhood; puppies, that mistake noise and impu-
dence, rudeness and profaneness, for wit. If the drum-
mers of my company had not more understanding than
twenty such fellows, I'd have them both whipped out of
the regiment."
" So, then, you do not know the person to whom it was
written V said Booth.
" Lieutenant," cries the colonel, " your question de-
serves no answer. I ought to take time to consider
whether I ought not to resent the supposition. Do you
think, sir, I am acquainted with a rascalT'
''I do not suppose, colonel," cries Booth, "that you
would willingly cultivate an intimacy with such a per-
son ; but a man must have good luck, who has any ac-
quaintance, if there are not some rascals among them."
" 1 am not offended with you, child," says the colonel ;
" I know you did not intend to ofiend me."
" No man, I believe, dares intend it," said Booth.
" I believe so too," said the colonel ; " d — n me, I
know it. But you know, child, how tender I am on this
subject. If I had been ever married myself, I should
have cleft the man's scull who had dared look wantonly
at my wife."
" It is certainly the most cruel of all injuries," said
Booth. " How finely does Shakspeare express it in his
Othello !
" ' But there, where I had treasured up my soul.' "
" That Shakspeare," cries the colonel, " was a fine fel-
low ; he was a very pretty poet indeed. Was it not
Shakspeare that wrote the play about Hotspur 1 You
must remember these lines : I got them almost by heart
at the playhouse ; for I never missed that play whenever
it was acted, if I was in town : —
' By Heaven, it was an easy leap,
To pluck bright honour into the full moon,
Or drive into the bottomless deep.'
And — and — faith, I have almost forgotten them ; but I
know it is something about saving your honour from
drowning — oh, it is very fine. I say, d — n me, the man
that wrote those lines was the greatest poet the world
S3
418 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
ever produced. There is dig-nity of expression and em-
phasis of thinking, d — n me."
Booth assented to the colonel's criticism, and then
cried, " I wish, colonel, you would be so kind to give me
that letter." The colonel answered, if he had any par-
ticular use for it, he would give it him with all his heart,
and presently dehvered it; and soon afterward they
parted.
Several passages now struck all at once upon Booth's
mind, which gave him great uneasiness. He became
confident now that he had mistaken one colonel for an-
other ; and though he could not account for the letter's
getting into those hands from whom Bath had taken it,
(indeed, James had dropped it out of his pocket,) yet a
thousand circumstances left him no room to doubt the
identity of the person, who was a man much more liable
to raise the suspicion of a husband than honest Bath,
who would, at any time, have rather fought with a man
than lain with a woman.
The whole behaviour of Amelia now rushed upon his
memory. Her resolution not to take up her residence
at the colonel's house, her backwardness even to dine
there, her unwillingness to go to the masquerade, many
of her unguarded expressions, and some where she had
been more guarded, all joined together to raise such an
idea in Mr. Booth, that he had almost taken a resolution
to go and cut the colonel to pieces in his own house.
Cooler thoughts, however, suggested themselves to him
in time. He recollected the promise he had so solemnly
made to the doctor ; he considered, moreover, that he
was yet in the dark as to the extent of the colonel's
guilt. Having nothing, therefore, to fear from it, he
contented himself to postpone a resentment, which he
nevertheless resolved to take of the colonel hereafter, if
he found he was in any degree a delinquent.
The first step he determined to take, was on the first
opportunity to relate to Colonel James the means by
which he became possessed of the letter, and to read it
to him ; on which occasion, he thought he should easily
discern, by the behaviour of the colonel, whether he
had been suspected, either by Amelia or the doctor,
without a cause; but as for his wife, he fully resolved
not to reveal the secret to her till the doctor's return.
While Booth was deeply engaged by himself in these
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 419
meditations, Captain Trent came up to him, and famil-
iarly slapped him on the shoulder.
They were soon joined by a third gentleman, and
presently afterward by a fourth, both acquaintances of
Mr. Trent ; and all having walked twice the length of
the Mall together, it being now past nine in the evening,
Trent proposed going to the tavern, to which the stran-
gers immediately consented ; and Booth himself, after
some resistance, was at length persuaded to comply.
To the King's Arms then they went, where the bottle
went very briskly round till after eleven ; at which time
Trent proposed a game at cards, to which proposal, hke-
wise, Booth's consent was obtained, though not without
much difficulty ; for though he had naturally some incli-
nation to gaming, and had formerly a little indulged it,
yet he had entirely left it off for many years.
Booth and his friend were partners, and had at first
some success ; but Fortune, according to her usual con-
duct, soon shifted about, and persecutedBooth with such
malice, that in about two hours he was stripped of all
the gold in his pocket, which amounted to twelve guin-
eas, being more than half the cash which he was at that
time worth.
How easy it is for a man, who is at all tainted with
the itch of gaming, to leave off play in such a situation,
especially when he is likewise heated with liquor, 1
leave to the gamesters to determine. Certain it is, that
Booth had no inclination to desist; but, on the con-
trary, was so eagerly bent on playing on, that he called
his friend out of the room, and asked him for ten
pieces, which he promised punctually to pay the next
morning.
Trent chid him for using so much formality on the
occasion. "You know," said he, "dear Booth, you
may have what money you please of me. Here is a
twenty pound note at your service ; and if you want
five times the sum, it is at your service. We will
never let these fellows go away with our money in this
manner ; for we have so much the advantage, that if
the knowing ones were here, they would lay odds of
our side."
But if this was really Mr. Trent's opinion, he was
very much mistaken ; for the other two honourable gen-
tlemen were not only greater masters of the game, and
somewhat soberer than poor Booth, having, with all the
420 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
art in their power, evaded the bottle ; but they had,
moreover, another small advantage over their adversa-
ries ; both of them, by means of some certain private
signs, previously agreed upon betw^een them, being al-
ways acquainted with the principal cards in each other's
hands. It cannot be wondered, therefore, that Fortune
was on their side ; for, however she may be reported to
favour fools, she never, I believe, shows them any
countenance when they engage in play with knaves.
The more Booth lost, tttfe deeper he made his bets :
the consequence of which was, that about two in the
morning, besides the loss of his own money, he was fifty
pounds indebted to Trent; a sum, indeed, which he
would not have borrowed, had not the other, like a very
generous friend, pushed it upon him.
Trent's pockets became at last dry by means of these
loans. His own loss, indeed, was trifling; for the stakes
of the games were no higher than crowns; and betting
(as it is called) was that to which Booth owed his ruin.
The gentlemen, therefore, pretty well knowing Booth's
circumstances, and being kindly unwilling to win more
of a man than he was worth, declined playing any
longer, nor did Booth once ask them to persist; for he
was ashamed of the debt which he had already con-
tracted to Trent, and very far from desiring to in-
crease it.
The company then separated. The two victors and
Trent went oft' in their chairs to their several houses
near Grosvenor Square ; and poor Booth, in a melan-
choly mood, walked home to his lodgings. He was,
indeed, in such a fit of despair, that it more than once
came into his head to put an end to his miserable
being.
But, before we introduce him to Amelia, we must do
her the justice to relate the manner in which she spent
this unhappy evening. It was about seven when Booth
left her to walk in the Park; from this time till past
eight she was employed with her children, in playing
with them, in giving them their supper, and in putting
them to bed.
When these offices were performed, she employed
herself another hour in cooking up a little supper for her
husband, this being, as we have already observed, his fa-
vourite meal, as, indeed, it was hers; and in a most
pleasant and clelightful manner they generally passed
i
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 421
their time at this season, though their fare was very sel-
dom of the sumptuous kind.
It now grew dark, and her hashed mutton was ready
for the table, but no Booth appeared.
Having waited, therefore, for him a full hour, she gave
him over for that evening; nor was she much alarmed
at his absence, as she knew he was, in a night or two,
to be at the tavern with some brother officers ; she con-
cluded, therefore, that they had m-et in the Park, and had
agreed to spend this evening together.
At ten then she sat down to supper by herself ; for
Mrs. Atkinson was then abroad. And here we cannot
help relating a little incident, however trivial it may
appear to some. Having sat some time alone, reflecting
on their distressed situation, her spirits grew very low ;
and she was once or twice going to ring the bell to send
her maid for half a pint of white wine, but checked her
inclination, in order to save the little sum of sixpence;
which she did the more resolutely, as she had before re-
fused to gratify her children with tarts for their supper
from the same motive : and this self-denialshe was very
probably practising to save sixpence, while her husband
was paying a debt of several guineas, incurred by the
ace of trumps being ni the hands of his adversary!
Instead, therefore, of this cordial, she took up one of
the excellent Farquhar's comedies, and read it half
through ; when the clock striking twelve, she retired
to bed, leaving the maid to sit up for her master. She
would, indeed, have much more willingly have sat up
herself; but the delicacy of her own mind assured her
that Booth would not thank her for the compliment.
This is, indeed, a method which some wives take of up-
braiding their husbands for staying abroad till too late an
hour, and of engaging them, through tenderness and
good-nature, never to enjoy the compauy of their friends
too long, when they must do this at the expense of their
wives' rest.
To bed then she went, but not to sleep. Thrice, in-
deed, she told the dismal clock, and as often heard the
more dismal watchman, till her miserable husband found
his way home, and stole silently, like a thief, to bed to
her ; at which time, pretending then first to awake, she
threw her snowy arms around him ; though, perhaps, the
more witty property of snow, according to Addison, that
is to say, its coldness, rather belonged to the poor captain.
36
422 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
Chapter VI. — Read, gamester, and observe.
Booth could not so well disguise the ag-itations of his
mind from Amelia, but that she perceived sufficient
symptoms to assure her that some misfortune had be-
fallen him. This made her in her turn so uneasy, that
Booth took notice of it, and after breakfast said, '* Sure,
my dear Emily, something has fallen out to vex you."
Amelia, looking tenderly at him, answered, " Indeed,
my dear, you are in the right. I am, indeed, extremely
vexed." " For Heaven's sake," said he, " what is iti"
"Nay, my love," cries she, "that you must answer
yourself. Whatever it is which has given you all that
disturbance that you in vain endeavour to conceal from
me, this it is which causes all my affliction."
" You guess truly, my sweet," replied Booth : " I am
indeed afflicted, and I will not, nay, I cannot conceal
the truth from you. I have undone myself, Amelia."
" What have you done, child 1" said she, in some con-
sternation ; " pray, tell me."
" I have lost my money at play," answered he.
"Pugh!" said she, recovering herself, "what signi-
fies the trifle you had in your pocket T Resolve never
to play again, and let it give you no further vexation.
I warrant you, we will contrive some method to repair
such a loss."
" Thou heavenly angel, thou comfort of my soul !"
cried Booth, tenderly embracing her — then, starting a
little from her arms, and looking with eager fondness in
her eyes, he said, " Let me survey thee ; art thou really
human, or art thou not rather an angel in a human form 1
Oh, no," cried he, fljnng again into her arms, " thou art
my dearest woman, my best, my beloved wife !"
Amelia, having returned all his caresses with equal
kindness, told him she had near eleven guineas in her
purse, and asked how much she should fetch him. " I
would not advise you, Billy, to carry too much in your
pocket, for fear it should be a temptation to you to re-
turn to gaming, in order to retrieve your past losses.
Let me beg you, on all accounts, never to think more, if
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 423
possible, on the trifle you have lost, any more than if
you had never possessed it."
Booth promised her faithfully he never would, and
refused to take any of the money. He then hesitated a
moment, and cried — " You say, my dear, you have eleven
guineas : you have a diamond ring, likewise, which was
your grandmother's; I believe that it is worth twenty
pounds ; and your own and the child's watch are worth
as much more."
*' I believe they would sell for as much," cried Ame-
lia; " for a pawnbroker of Mrs. Atkinson's acquaintance
offered to lend me thirty-five pounds upon them, when
you was in your last distress. But why are you compu-
ting their value now 1"
" I was only considering," answered he, " how much
we could raise in any case of exigency."
" I have computed it myself," said she ; " and I be-
lieve all we have in the world, besides our bare neces-
sary apparel, would produce about sixty pounds : and
suppose, my dear," said she, "while we have that Httle
sum, we should think of employing it some way or other,
to procure some small subsistence for ourselves and our
family. As for your dependance on the colonel's friend-
ship, it is all vain, I am afraid, and fallacious : nor do I
see any hopes you have from any other quarter of pro-
viding for yourself again in the army : and though the
sum which is now in your power is very small, yet we
may possibly contrive with it to put ourselves into some
mean way of livelihood. I have a heart, my Billy,
which is capable of undergoing anything for your sake ;
and I hope my hands are as able to work as those which
have been more inured to it. But think, my dear, think
what must be our wretched condition when the very
little we now have is all mouldered away, as it will
soon be in this town."
When poor Booth heard this, and reflected that the
time which Amelia foresaw was already arrived, for that
he had already lost every farthing they were worth, it
touched him to the quick : he turned pale, gnashed his
teeth, and cried out, " Damnation ! this is too much to
bear."
Amelia was thrown into the utmost consternation by
this behaviour ; and, with great terror in her counte-
nance, cried out, " Good heavens ! my dear love, what
is the reason of this agony ]"
424 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
" Ask me no questions," cried he, " unless you would
drive me to madness."
*' My Billy ! my love !" said she, " what can be the
meaning of this ] 1 beg you will deal openly with me,
and tell me all your griefs."
" Have you dealt fairly with me, Amelia 1" said he.
" Yes, surely," said she ; " Heaven is my witness,
how fairly."
*' Nay, do not call Heaven," cried he, " to witness a
falsehood. You have not dealt openly with me, Amelia.
You have concealed secrets from me : secrets which I
ought to have known, and which, if 1 had known, it had
been better for us both."
*' You astonish me as much as you shock me," cried
she : " What falsehood, what treachery have I been
guilty ofl"
" You tell me," said he, " that I can have no reliance
on James ; why did not you tell me so before ?"
" 1 call Heaven again," said she, " to witness, nay, I
appeal to yourself for the truth of it, 1 have often told
you so. I have told you I dislike the man, notwith-
standing the many favours he had done you. I desired
you not to have too absolute a reliance upon him. I
own I had once an extreme good opinion of him, but I
changed it, and I acquainted you that I had so."
" But not," cries he, " with the reasons why you had
changed it."
" I was really afraid, my dear," said she, " of going
too far. I knew the obligations you had to him ; and if
I suspected that he acted rather from vanity than true
friendship — "
" Vanity !" cries he ; " take care, Amelia : you know
his motive to be much worse than vanity; a motive,
which, if he had piled obligations on me till they had
reached the skies, would tumble all down into hell. It
is in vain to conceal it longer — I know all — your confi-
dant has told me all."
" Nay, then," cries she, " on my knees I entreat you
to be pacified, and hear me out. It was, my dear, for
you; my dread of your jealous honour, and the fatal
consequences."
" Is not Amelia, then," cried he, " equally jealous of
my honour 1 Would she, from a weak tenderness for
my person, go privately about to betray, to undermine
the most invaluable treasure of my soul 1 Would she
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 425
have me pointed at as the credulous dupe, the easy fool,
the tame, the kind cuckold of a rascal, with whom I con-
versed as a friend 1"
" Indeed you injure me," said Amelia, " Heaven for-
bid 1 should have the trial ; but I think I could sacrifice
all I hold most dear to preserve your honour. I think
I have shown I can. But I will — when you are cool,
T will — satisfy you I have done nothing you ought to
blame."
" I am cool, then," cries he ; " I will with the greatest
coolness hear you. But do not think, Amelia, I have
the least jealousy, the least suspicion, the least doubt of
your honour. It is your want of confidence in me alone
which I blame."
" When you are calm," cried she, "I will speak, and
not before."
He assured her he was calm, and then she said, " You
have justified my conduct by your present passion, in
concealing from you my suspicions ; for they were no
more ; nay, it is possible they were unjust ; for since
the doctor, in betraying the secret to you, has so far fal-
sified my opinion of him, why may 1 not be as well de-
ceived in my opinion of the colonel? since it was only
formed on some particulars in his behaviour which I
disliked; for, upon my honour, he never spoke a word
to me, nor has ever been guilty of any direct action
which I could blame." She then went on, and related
most of the circumstances which she had mentioned to
the doctor, omitting one or two of the strongest, and
giving such a turn to the rest, that if Booth had not had
some of Othello's blood in him, his wife would have
almost appeared a prude in his eyes. Even he, however,
was pretty well pacified by this narrative, and said he
was glad to find a possibility of the colonel's innocence ;
but that he greatly commended the prudence of his wife,
and only wished she would, for the future, make him her
only confidant.
Amelia, upon that, expressed some bitterness against
the doctor for breaking his trust ; when Booth, in his
excuse, related all the circumstances of the letter, and
plainly convinced her that the secret had dropped by
mere accident from the mouth of the doctor.
Thus the husband and wife became again reconciled ;
and poor Ameha generously forgave a passion, of which
36*
426 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
the sagacious reader is better acquainted with the real
cause than was that unhappy lady.
Chapter VII. — In which Booth receives a visit from Captain
Trent.
When Booth grew perfectly cool, and began to reflect
that he had broken his word to the doctor, in having made
the discovery to his wife which we have seen in the last
chapter, that thought gave him great uneasiness ; and
now, to comfort him. Captain Trent came to make him
a visit.
This was, indeed, almost the last man in the world
whose company he wished for; for he was the only man
he was ashamed to see, for a reason well known to
gamesters; among whom, the most dishonourable of all
things is not to pay a debt contracted at the gaming-
table the next day, or the next time at least that you
see the party.
Booth made no doubt but that Trent was come on pur-
pose to receive this debt. The latter had been, there-
fore, scarce a minute in the room, before Booth began
in an awkward manner to apologize ; but Trent imme-
diately stopped his mouth, and said, " I do not want the
money, Mr. Booth, and you may pay it whenever you
are able ; and if you are never able, I assure you 1 will
never ask j^ou for it."
This generosit)'^ raised such a tempest of gratitude in
Booth, (if I may be allow^ed the expression,) that the
tears burst from his eyes, and it was some time before
he could find any utterance for those sentiments with
which his mind overflowed ; but when he began to ex-
press his thankfulness Trent immediately stopped him,
and gave a sudden turn to their discourse.
Mrs. Trent had been to visit Mrs. Booth on the mas-
querade evening, which visit Mrs. Booth had not yet
returned. Indeed, this was only the second day since
she had received it ; Trent, therefore, now told his
friend that he should take it extremely kind if he and
his lady would waive all ceremony, and sup at their
house the next evening. Booth hesitated a moment;
but presently said, " I am pretty certain my wife is not
engaged, and I will undertake for her. I am sure she
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 427
will not refuse anything Mr. Trent can ask." And soon
after Trent took Booth with him to walk in the Park.
There were few greater lovers of a bottle than Trent;
lie soon proposed, therefore, to adjourn to the King's
Arms Tavern, where Booth, though much against his
inclination, accompanied him ; but Trent was very im-
portunate ; and Booth did not think himself at liberty to
refuse such a request to a man from Avhom he had so
lately received such obligations.
When they came to the tavern, however, Booth recol-
lected the omission he had been guilty of the night
before; he wrote a short note, therefore, to his wife,
acquainting her that he should not come home to sup-
per ; but comforted her with a faithful promise that he
would on no account engage himself in gaming.
The first bottle passed in ordinary conversation ; but
when they had tapped the second. Booth, on some hints
which Trent gave' him, very fairly laid open to him his
whole circumstances, and declared he almost despaired
of mending them. " My chief relief," said he, *' was in
the interest of Colonel James; but I have given up those
hopes."
^' And very wisely, too," said Trent. *' I say nothing
of the colonel's good- will : very likely he may he your
sincere friend : but I do not believe he has the interest
he pretends to. He has had too many favours in his
own family to ask any more yet a while- But 1 am mis-
taken if you have not a much more powerful friend than
the colonel ; one who is both able and willing to serve
you. I dined at his table within these two days, and I
never heard kinder nor warmer expressions from the
mouth of man than he made use of towards you. I
make no doubt you know whom I mean."
" Upon my honour I do not," answered Booth ; " nor
did I guess that I had such a friend in the world as you
mention."
" I am glad, then," cries Trent, " that I have the pleas-
ure of informing you of it." He then named the noble
peer, who has been already so often mentioned in this
history.
Booth turned pale, and started at his name. " I for-
give you, my dear Trent," cries Booth, "for mentioning
his name to me, as you are a stranger to what has passed
between us."
" Nay, I know nothing that has passed between you,"
428 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
answered Trent. " I am sure, if there is any quarrel
between you of two days' standing, all is forgiven on his
part."
" D— n his forgiveness," said Booth : " perhaps I ought
to blush at what I have forgiven."
" You surprise me," cries Trent : " pray, what can be
the matter?"
" Indeed, my dear Trent," crieS Booth, very gravely,
"he would have injured me in the tenderest part. 1 know
not how to tell it you ; but he would have dishonoured
me with my wife."
" Sure you are not in earnest V answered Trent ; " but
if you are, you will pardon me for thinking that irapos-
sible."
" Indeed," cries Booth, " I have so good an opinion of
my wife as to believe it impossible for him to succeed ;
but, that he should intend me the favour, you will not^ I
believe, think an impossibility."
" Faith I not in the least," said Trent ; " Mrs. Booth
is a very fine woman ; and, if I had the honour to be her
husband, I should not be angry with any man for liking
her."
" But you would be angry," said Booth, " with a man
who should make use of stratagems and contrivances to
seduce her virtue : especially if be did this under the
colour of entertaining the highest friendship for your-
self."
" Not at all," cries Trent, " it is human nature."
" Perhaps it is," cries Booth ; "but it is human nature
depraved, stripped of all its worth, and loveliness, and
dignity, and degraded down to a level with the vilest
brutes."
" Look ye, Booth," cries Trent, " I would not be mis-
understood. 1 think, when I am talking to you, I talk
to a man of sense, and to an inhabitant of this country;
not to one who dwells in a land of saints. If you have
really such an opinion as you express of this noble lord,
you have the finest opportunity of making a complete
fool and bubble of him that any man can desire, and of
making your own fortune at the same time. I do not
say that your suspicions are groundless; for of all men
upon earth, I know my lord is the greatest bubble to
women, though I believe he has had very few : and this
I am confident of, that he has not the least jealousy of
these suspicions. Now, therefore, if you will act the
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 429
pari of a wise man, I will undertake that you shall make
your fortune without the least injury to the chastity of
Mrs. Booth."
" I do not understand you, sir," said Booth.
" Nay," cries Trent, " if you will not understand me,
I have done. I tneant only your service ; and I thought
I had known you better."
Booth begged him to explain himself. " If you can,"
said he, " show me any way to improve such circum-
stances as I have opened to you, you may depend on it, I
shall readily embrace it, and own my obligations to you."
*' That is spoken like a man," cries Trent. " Why,
what is it more than this ? Carry your suspicions in
your own bosom. Let Mrs. Booth, in whose virtue I
am sure you may be justly confident, go to the public
places ; there let her treat my lord with common civility
only; I am sure he will bite ; and thus, without suffering
him to gain his purpose, you will gain yours. 1 know
several who have succeeded with him in this manner."
" I am very sorry, sir," cries Booth, " that you are ac-
quaintedwith any such rascals. I do assure you, rather
than I would act such a part, I would submit to the hard-
iest sentence that fortune could pronounce against me."
^' Do as you please, sir," said Trent : " I have only
ventured to advise you as a friend. But do you not
think that your nicety is a little over-scrupulous V
" You will excuse me, sir," said Booth ; " but I think
no man can be too scrupulous in points which concern
his honour."
^'I know many men of very nice honour," answered
Trent, "who have gone much further; and no man, I
am sure, had ever a better excuse for it than yourself.
You will forgive me, Booth, since what I speak pro-
ceeds from my love to you; nay, indeed, by mentioning
your affairs to me, which I am heartily sorry for, you
have given me a right to speak. You know best what
friends you have to depend upon ; but if you have no
other pretensions than your merit, I can assure you you
would fail, if it was possible you could have ten times
more merit than you have : and if you love your wife,
as I am convinced you do, what must be your condition
in seeing her want the necessaries of life ?"
" I know my condition is very hard," cries Booth ;
" but I have one comfort in it which I will never part
withj and that is— innocence. As to the mere necessa-
430 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
ries of life, however, it is pretty difficult to deprive us
of them ; this I am sure of, no one can want them long."
" Upon my word, sir," cries Trent, " I did not know
you had been so great a philosopher; but, believe me,
these matters look much less terrible at a distance than
when they are actually present : you will then find, I
am afraid, that honour has no more skill in cookery
than Shakspeare tells us it has in surgery. D — n me,
if I don't wish his lordship loved my wife as well as he
does )^ours ; I promise you 1 would trust her virtue ; and,
if he should get the better of it, I should have people of
fashion enough to keep me in countenance."
Their second bottle being now almost out, Booth,
without making any answer, called for a bill. Trent
pressed very much the drinking of another bottle ; but
Booth absolutely refused, and presently afterward they
parted, not extremely well satisfied with each other.
They appeared, indeed, one to the other in disadvanta-
geous lights of a very different kind : Trent concluded
Booth to be a very silly fellow ; and Booth began to
suspect that Trent was very little better than a scoun-
drel.
Chapter VIII.— Contains a letter, and other matters.
We will now return to Amelia; to whom, immedi-
ately upon her husband's departure to walk with Mr.
Trent, a porter brought the following letter ; which she
immediately opened and read : —
" Madam,
" The quick despatch which I have given to your first commands
will, I hope, assure you of the diligence with which I shall always
obey every command that you are pleased to honour me with. I
have, indeed, in this trilling affair, acted as if my life itself had been
at stake ; nay, I know not but it may be so ; for this insignificant
matter, you was pleased to tell me, would oblige the charming per-
son, in whose power is not only my happiness, but, as I am weU per-
suaded, my life too. Let me reap, therefore, some little advantage
in your eyes, as you have in mine, from this trilling occasion ; for if
anything could add to the charms of which you are mistress, it would
be, perhaps, that amiable zeal with which you maintain the cause of
your friend. I hope, indeed, she will be my friend and advocate with
the most lovely of her sex ; as I think she has reason, and as you
was pleased to insinuate she had been. Let me beseech you, madam
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 431
—let not that dear heart, whose tenderness is so inclined tocompas*
Bionate the miseries of others, be hardened only against the suffer*
ings which itself occasions. Let not that man alone have reason to
think you cruel, who, of all others, would do the most to procure
your kindness. How often have I lived over in my reflections, in my
dreams, those two short minutes we were together ! But, alas,
how faint are these mimicries of the imagination! What would I
not give to purchase the reality of such another blessmg ! This,
madam, is in your power to bestow on the man, who has no wish,
no will, no fortune, no heart, no life, but what are at your disposal.
Grant me only the favour to be at* Lady 's assembly. You can
have nothmg to fear from indulging me with a moment's sight, a mo-
ment's conversation ; I will ask no more. I know your delicacy, and
had rather die than offend it. Could I have seen you sometunes, I
believe the fear of offendmg you would have kept my love for ever
buried in my own bosom ; but to be totally excluded, even from the
sight of what my soul dotes on, is what I cannot bear. It is that
alone which has extorted the fatal secret from me : let that obtain
your forgiveness for me. I need not sign this letter, otherwise than
with that impression of my heart which I hope it bears ; and, to con-
clude It in any form, no language has words of devotion strong
enough to tell you with what truth, what anguish, what zeal, what
adoration, I love you."
Amelia had just strength to hold out to the end, when
her trembling grew so violent, that she dropped the let-
ter, and had probably dropped herself, had not Mrs.
Atkinson come timely in to support her.
" Good heavens !" cries Mrs. Atkinson, " what is the
matter with you, madam V
" I know not what is the matter," cries Amelia ; " but
T have received a letter at last from that infamous col-
onel."
" You will take my opinion again, then, I hope, mad-
am," cries Mrs. Atkinson: "but don't be so affected;
the letter cannot eat you, or run away with you. Here
it lies, I see : will you give me leave to read it V
" Read it with all my heart," cries Amelia, '* and give
me your advice how to act ; for I am almost distracted."
" Heyday !" says Mrs. Atkinson, " here is a piece of
parchment too ! What is that?" In truth this parch-
ment had dropped from the letter when Amelia first
opened it ; but her attention was so fixed by the con-
tents of the letter itself, that she had never read the other.
Mrs. Atkinson had now opened the parchment first ; and
after a moment's perusal, the fire flashed from her eyes,
and the blood flushed into her cheeks ; and she cried
out, in a rapture, "It is a commission for my husband!
Upon my soul, it is a commission for my husband !" and
432 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
at the same time began to jump about the room in a kind
of frantic fit of joy.
" What can be the meaning of all this V cries Amelia,
under the highest degree of astonishment.
" Do not 1 tell you, my dear madam," cries she, "that
it is a commission for my husband 1 And can you won-
der at my being overjoyed at what I know will make
him so happy ? And now it is all out. The letter is
not from the colonel, but from that noble lord of whom
I have told you so much. But, indeed, madam, I have
some pardons to ask of you. However, I know your
goodness, and I will tell you alL
" You are to know then, madam, that I had not been
in the opera-house six minutes before a mask came up,
and, taking me by the hand, led me aside. I gave the
mask my hand ; and seeing a lady at that time lay hold
on Captain Booth, I took that opportunity of slipping
away from him ; for though by the help of the squeak-
ing voice, and by attempting to mimic yours, I had pretty
well disguised my own, 1 was still afraid, if I had much
conversation with your husband, he would discover me.
1 walked therefore away with this mask to the upper
end of the farthest room, where we sat down in a corner
together. He presently discovered to me that he took
me for you ; and I soon after found out who he was :
indeed, so far from attempting to disguise himself, he
spoke in his own voice, and in his own person. He now
began to make very violent love to me ; but it was rather
in the style of a great man of the present age, than of
an Arcadian swain : in short, he laid his whole fortune
at my feet, and bade me make whatever terms I pleased^
either for myself or for others : by others, 1 suppose he
meant your husband. This, however, put a thought into
my head of turning the present occasion to advantage.
1 told him there were two kinds of persons, the falla-
ciousness of whose promises had become proverbial in
the world : these were lovers and great men. What re-
liance, then, could I have on the promise of one who
united in himself both those characters 1 That I had
seen a melancholy instance, in a very worthy woman
of my acquaintance, (meaning myself, madam,) of his
want of generosity. I said I knew the obligations that
he had to this woman, and the injuries he had done her ;
all which I was convinced she forgave, for that she had
said the handsomest things in the world of him to me>
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 433
He answered, that he thought he had not been deficient
in generosity to this lady ; (for I explained to him whom
I meant;) but that indeed if she had spoken well of
him to me, (meaning yourself, madam,) he would not
fail to reward her for such an obligation. I then lold
him she had married a very deserving man, who had
served long in the army abroad as a private man, and
who was a sergeant in the guards ; that I knew it was so
very easy for him to get him a commission, that I should
not think he had any honour or goodness in the world
if he neglected it. 1 declared this step must be a pre-
liminary to any good opinion he must ever hope for of
mine. I then professed the greatest friendship to that
lady, in which I am convinced you will think me serious ;
and assured him he would give me one of the highest
pleasures in letting me be the instrument of doing her
such a service. He promised me in a moment to do
what you see, madam, he has since done ; and to you I
shall always think myself indebted for it."
" I know not how you are indebted to me," cries
Amelia. " Indeed, I am very glad of any good fortune
that can attend poor Atkinson ; but I wish it had been
obtained some other way. Good heavens ! what must
be the consequence of this 1 What must this lord think
of me for listening to his mention of love ; nay, for
making any terms with him 1 for what must he suppose
those terms mean 1 Indeed, Mrs. Atkinson, you car-
ried it a great deal too far. No wonder he had the as-
surance to write to me in the manner he has done. It
is too plain what he conceives of me, and who knows
what he may say to others 1 You may have blown up
my reputation by your behaviour."
*' How is that possible 1" answered Mrs. Atkinson.
"Is it not in my power to clear up all matters'? If
you will but give me leave to make an appointment in
your name, I will meet him myself, and declare the
whole secret to him."
" I will consent to no such appointment," cries Ame-1
lia. " I am heartily sorry I ever consented to practise!
any deceit. I plainly see the truth of what Dr. Har-j
rison has often told me : that if one steps ever so little I
out of the ways of virtue and innocence, we know not j
how we may slide ; for all the ways of vice are a slippery [
descent."
37 T
434 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
" That sentiment," cries Mrs. Atkinson, " is much
older than Dr. Harrison. Omne vitium in procliviest."
" However new or o)d it is, I find it is true," cries
Amelia. " But, pray, tell me all, though I tremble to
hear it."
" Indeed, my dear friend," said Mrs. Atkinson, " you
are terrified at nothing. Indeed, indeed, you are too
great a prude."
"I do not know what you mean by prudery," an-
swered Amelia. " I shall never be ashamed of the
strictest regard to decency, to reputation, and to that
honour in which the dearest of all human creatures has
his share. But pray give me the letter ; there is an ex-
pression in it which alarmed me when I read it. Pray,
what does he mean by his two short minutes, and by
purchasing the reaUty of such another blessing ]"
" Indeed I know not what he means by two minutes,'*
cries Mrs. Atkinson, " unless he calls two hours so ; for
we were not together much less : and as for any bles-
sing he had, I am a stranger to it. Sure, I hope you have
a better opinion of me than to think I granted him the
last favour."
" I don't know what favours you granted him, madam,"
answered Amelia, peevishly ; " but I am sorry you
granted him any in my name."
" Upon my word," cries Mrs. Atkinson, " you use me
unkindly, and it is a usage I did not expect at your
hands ; nor do I know that I have deserved it. I am sure
I went to the masquerade with no other view than to
oblige you ; nor did I say or do anything there which
any woman, who is not the most confounded prude upon
earth, would have started at on a much less occasion
than what induced me. Well, I declare upon my soul,
then, that if I was a man, rather than be married to a wo-
man who makes such a fuss with her virtue, I would wish
my wife was without such a troublesome companion."
" Very possibly, madam, these may be your senti-
ments," cries Amelia ; " and I hope they are the senti-
ments of your husband."
" I desire, madam," cries Mrs. Atkinson, " you would
not reflect on my husband. He is as worthy a man and
as brave a man as yours; yes, madam, and he is now
as much a captain."
She spoke these words in so loud a voice, that Atkin-
son, who was accidentally going up stairs, heard them ;
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 435
and, being: surprised at the angry tone of his wife's voice,
he entered the room, and, with a look of much aston-
ishment, begged to know what was the matter.
*' The matter, my dear," cries Mrs. Atkinson, '* is,
that I have got a commission for you, and your good old
friend here is angry with me for getting it."
" I have not spirits enough," cries Amelia, " to an-
swer you as you deserve ; and, if 1 had, you are below
ray anger."
*' I do not know, Mrs. Booth," answered the other,
" whence this great superiority over me is derived ; but,
if your virtue gives it you, 1 would have you to know,
madam, that 1 despise a prude as much as you can do
a—"
" Though you have several times," cries Amelia, " in-
sulted me with that word, I scorn to give you any ill
language in return. If you deserve any bad appellation,
you know it without my telling it you."
Poor Atkinson, who was more frightened than he had
ever been in his hfe, did all he could to procure peace.
He fell upon his knees to his wife, and begged her to
compose herself; for, indeed, she seemed to be in a
most furious rage.
While he was in this posture, Booth, who had knocked
so gently at the door, for fear of disturbing his wife,
that he had not been heard in the tempest, came into
the room. The moment Amelia saw him, the tears,
which had been gathering for some time, burst in a tor-
rent from her eyes, which, however, she endeavoured
to conceal with her handkerchief. The entry of Booth
turned all, in an instant, into a silent picture ; in which
the first figure which struck the eyes of the captain,
was the sergeant on his knees to his wife.
Booth immediately cried, " What is the meaning of
thisl" but received no answer. He then cast his eyes
towards Amelia ; and plainly discerning her condition, he
ran to her, and, in a very tender phrase, begged to know
what was the matter ; to which she answered, " Nothing,
my dear! nothing of any consequence." He replied,
that he would know; and then turned to Atkinson, and
asked the same question.
Atkinson answered, " Upon my honour, sir, I know
nothing of it. Something has passed between madam
and my wife ; but what it is, I know no more than your
honour."
T2
436 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
" Your wife," said Mrs. Atkinson, " has used me
cruelly ill, Mr. Booth. If you must be satisfied, that is
the whole matter."
Booth rapped out a great oath, and cried, " It is im-
possible : my wife is not capable of using any one ill."
Amelia then cast herself upon her knees to her hus-
band, and cried, " For Heaven's sake, do not throw^ your-
self into a passion. Some few w^ords have passed :
perhaps I may be in the wrong."
"D n seize me if I think so," cries Booth: "and
I wish, whoever has drawn these tears from your eyes,
may pay it with as many drops of their heart's blood."
" You see, madam," cries Mrs. Atkinson, " you have
your bully to take your part ; so, I suppose, you will use
your triumph."
Amelia made no answer, but still kept hold of Booth,
who, in a violent rage, cried out, " INIy Amelia triumph
over such a wretch as thee ! What can lead thy inso-
lence to such presumption T Sergeant, I desire you'll
take that monster out of the room, or I cannot answer for
myself."
The sergeant was beginning to beg his wife to retire,
for he perceived, very plainly, that she had, as the
phrase is, taken a sip too much that evening; when,
with a rage little short of madness, she cried out, " And
do you tamely see me insulted in such a manner, now
that you are a gentleman, and upon a footing with
him?"
" It is lucky for us all, perhaps," answered Booth,
" that he is not my equal."
" You lie, sirrah," said Mrs. Atkinson, " he is every-
way your equal ; he is as good a gentleman as yourself,
and as much an officer. No, I retract what I say : he
has not the spirit of a gentleman, nor a man neither; or
he would not bear to see his wife insulted."
" Let me beg of you, my dear," cries the sergeant,
*' to go with me, and compose yourself."
" Go with thee, thou wretch V cries she, looking with
the utmost disdain upon him ; " no, nor ever speak to
thee more." At which words she burst out of the room ;
and the sergeant, without saying a word, followed her.
A very tender and pathetic scene now passed between
Booth and his wife, in which, when she was a little com-
posed, she related to him the whole story : for, besides,
that it was not possible for her otherwise to account for
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 437
the quarrel which he had seen, Booth was now possessed
of the letter that lay on the floor.
Amelia, having emptied her mind to her husband, and
obtained his faithful promise that he would not resent the
affair to my lord, was pretty well composed, and began
to relent a little towards Mrs. Atkinson -, but Booth was
so highly incensed with her, that he declared he would
leave her house the next morning; which they both ac-
cordingly did, and immediately accommodated them-
selves with convenient apartments within a few doors of
their friend the doctor.
Chapter IX. — Containing some things worthy observation.
Notwithstanding the exchange of his lodgings, Booth
did not forget to send an excuse to Mr. Trent, of whose
conversation he had taken a full surfeit the preceding
evening.
That day, in his walks, Booth met with an old brother
officer, who had served with him at Gibraltar, and was
on half-pay as well as himself. He had not, indeed, had
the fortune of being broken with his regiment, as was
Booth ; but had gone out, as they call it, on half-pay as
a lieutenant, a rank to which he had risen in five-and-
thirty years.
This honest gentleman, after some discourse with
Booth, desired him to lend him half a crown, which he
assured him he would faithfully pay the next day, when
he was to receive some money for his sister. This sis-
ter was the widow of an officer that had been killed in
the sea-service ; and she and her brother lived together
on their joint stock, out of which they maintained like-
wise an old mother, and two of the sister's children, the
eldest of which was about nine 5'ears old. " You must
know," said the old lieutenant, "I have been disap-
pointed this morning by an old scoundrel, who wanted
fifteen percent, for advancing my sister's pension; but I
have now got an honest fellow, who has promised it me
to-morrow at ten per cent."
" And enough, too, of all conscience," cries Booth.
" Why, indeed, I think so too," answered the other;
" considering it is sure to be paid one time or other. To
say the truth, it is a little hard the government does not
37*
438 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
pay those pensions better ; for my sister's has been due
almost these two years ; that is my way of thinking-."
Booth answered, he was ashamed to refuse him such
a sum ; " but, upon my soul," said he, " I have not a sin-
gle halfpenny in my pocket; for I am in a worse condi-
tion, if possible, than yourself; for I have lost all my
money ; and, what is worse, 1 owe Mr. Trent, whom
you remember at Gibraltar, fifty pounds."
"Remember him! yes, d — n him, I remember him
very well," cries the old gentleman, " though he will not
remember me. He is grown so great now, that he will
not speak to his old acquaintance ; and yet I should be
ashamed of myself to be great in such a manner."
" What manner do you mean V cries Booth, a little
eagerly.
" Why, by pimping," answered the other : " he is pimp
in ordinary to my Lord , who keeps his family, or
how the devil he lives else I don't know ; for his place
is not worth three hundred pounds a year, and he and
his wife spend a thousand at least. But she keeps an
assembly, which, I believe, if you was to call a bawdy-
house, you would not misname it. But, d — n me, if I
had not rather be an honest man, and walk on foot with
holes in my shoes, as I do now, or go without a dinner,
as I and my family will to-day, than ride in a chariot,
and feast by such means. I am honest Bob Bound, and
always will be; that's my w^ay of thinking: and there's
no man shall call me otherwise ; for if he does, I will
knock him down for a lying rascal ; that is my way of
thinking."
" And a very good way of thinking, too," cries Booth.
"However, you shall not want a dinner to-day; for if
you will go home with me, I will lend you a crown with
all my heart."
" Lookee," said the old man," if it be anywise incon-
venient to you, I will not have it ; for I will never rob
another man of his dinner to eat myself; that is my
way of thinking."
"Pooh!" said Booth: "never mention such a trifle
twice between you and me. Besides, you say you can
pay it me to-morrow ; and I promise you that will be the
same thing."
They then walked together to Booth's lodgings, where
Booth, from Amelia's pocket, gave his friend double
the little sum he had asked : upon which, the old gen-
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 439
tleman shook him heartily by the hand ; and, repeat-
ing his intentions of paying him the next day, made the
best of his way to the butcher's, whence he carried off a
leg of mutton to a family that had lately kept Lent with-
out any religious merit.
When he was gone, Amelia asked her husband who
that old gentleman was. Booth answered, he was one
of the scandals of his country ; that the Duke of Marl-
borough had, about thirty years before, made him an en-
sign from a private man, for very particular merit ; and
that he had not long since gone out of the army with a
broken heart, upon having several boys put over his
head. He then gave her an account of his family, which
he had heard from the old gentleman in their way to his
house, and with which we have already, in a concise
manner, acquainted the reader. I
" Good heavens !" cries Amelia, " what are our great /
men made of? Are they in reality a distinct specie?'^
from the rest of mankind? are they born without^
hearts ?" .
" One would, indeed, sometimes," cries Booth, " be in-
clined to think so. In truth, they have no perfect idea
of those common distresses of mankind which are far re-
moved from their own sphere. Compassion, if thor-
oughly examined, will, I believe, appear to be the fel-
low-feeling only of men of the same rank and degree of
life for one another, on account of the evils to which
they themselves are liable. Our sensations are, I am
afraid, very cold towards those who are at a great dis-
tance fronj us, and whose calamities can consequently
never reach us."
" I remember," cries Amelia, " a sentiment of Dr.
Harrison's, which he told me was in some Latin book ;
* I am a man myself, and my heart is interested in what-
ever can befall the rest of mankind.' That is the senti-
ment of a good man, and whoever thinks otherwise is 3
bad one."
" I have often told you, my dear Emily," cries Booth,
"that all men, as well the best as the worst, act alike
from the principle of self-love. Where benevolence,
therefore, is the uppermost passion, self-love directs you
to gratify it by doing good, and by relieving the dis-
tresses of others ; for they are then in reality your own ;
but where ambition, avarice, pride, or any other passion
governs the man, and keeps his benevolence down, the
440 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
miseries of all other men affect him no more than they
would a stock or a stone : and thus the man and his
statue have often the same degree of feeling or compas-
sion."
"I have often wished, my dear," cries Amelia, "to
hear you converse with Dr. Harrison on this subject ;
for I am sure he would convince you, though 1 can't,
that there are really such things as religion and vir-
tue."
This was not the first hint of this kind which Amelia
had given; for she sometimes apprehended, from his dis-
course, that he was little better than an atheist ; a con-
sideration which did not diminish her affection for him,
but gave her great uneasiness. On all such occasions,
Booth immediately turned the discourse to some other
subject ; for though he had in other points a great opin-
ion of his wife's capacity, yet, as a divine or a philoso-
pher, he did not hold her in a very respectable light, nor
did he lay any great stress on her sentiments in such mat-
ters. He now, therefore, gave a speedy turn to the con-
versation, and began to talk of affairs below the dignity of
this history.
BOOK XI.
Chapter I, —Containing a very polite scene.
We will now look back to some personages, who,
though not the principal characters in this history, have
yet made too considerable a figure in it to be abruptly
dropped; and these are Colonel James and his lady.
This fond couple never met till dinner the day after
the masquerade, when they happened to be alone to-
gether in an antechamber before the arrival of the rest
of the company.
The conversation began with the colonel's saying, "I
hope, madam, you got no cold last night at the masquer-
ade :" to which the lady answered by much the same
kind of question.
They then sat together near five minutes without
opening their mouths to each other. At last Mrs. James
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 441
said, " Pray, sir, who was that mask with you in the
dress of a shepherdess 1 How could you expose your-
self by walking with such a trollop in' public ■? for cer-
tainly no woman of any figure would appear there in
such a dress. You know, Mr. James, I never interfere
■with your affairs ; but I would, methinks, for my own
sake, if I was you, preserve a little decency in the face
of the world."
" Upon my word," said James, " I do not know whom
you mean. A woman in such a dress might speak to
me for aught I know : a thousand people speak to me
at a masquerade ; but I promise you I spoke to no
woman acquaintance there that I know of. Indeed, I
now recollect there was a woman in the dress of a
shepherdess, and there was another awkward thing in a
blue domino that plagued me a little ; but I soon got rid
of them."
" And I suppose 5^ou do not know the lady in the blue
domino neither?"
" Not I, I assure you," said James. " But, pray, why
do you ask me these questions ? It looks so hke jeal-
ousy !"
" Jealousy !" cries she ; " I jealous ! No, Mr. James,
I shall never be jealous, I promise you, especially of the
lady in the blue domino ; for, to my knowledge, she de-
spises you of all the human race."
" I am heartily glad of it," said James ; " for I never
saw such a tall awkward monster in my life."
" That is a very cruel way of telling me you knew
me."
'* You, madam !" said James ; " you was in a black
domino."
" It is not so unusual a thing, I believe you yourself
know, to change dresses. I own, I did it to discover
some of your tricks. I did not think you could have
distinguished the tall awkward monster so well."
" Upon my soul," said James, " if it was you, I did
not even suspect it ; so you ought not to be offended at
what I have said ignorantly."
" Indeed, sir," cries she, " you cannot offend me by
anything you can say to my face : no, by my soul, I
despise you too much. But I wish, Mr. James, you
would not make me the subject of your conversation
among your wenches. I desire I may not be afraid of
Lueeting them for fear of their insults ; that I may not
T3
442 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
be told, by a dirty trollop, you make me the subject of
your wit among them, of which, it seems, I am the
favourite topic. Though you have married a tall, awk-
ward monster, Mr. James, I think she has a right to be
treated, as your wife, with respect at least. Indeed, I
shall never require any more; indeed, Mr. James, I
never shall. I think a wife has a title to that."
" Who told you this, madam 1" said James.
" Your slut," said she, " your wench, your shepherd-
ess."
"By all that's sacred," cries James, " I do not know
who the shepherdess was."
*' By all that's sacred then," says she, " she told me
so ; and I am convinced she told me truth. But I do
not wonder at your denying it; for that is equally con-
sistent with honour, as to behave in such a manner to a
wife who is a gentlewoman. 1 hope that you will allow
me that, sir. Because I had not quite so great a for-
tune, 1 hope you do not think me beneath you, or that
you did nie any honour in marrying me. I am come of
as good a fannly as yourself, Mr. James; and if my
brother knew how you treated me, he would not bear
it."
" Do you threaten me with your brother, madam ?"
said James.
" 1 will not be ill-treated, sir," answered she.
" Nor I neither, madam," cries he : " and therefore I
desire you will prepare to go into the country to-morrow
morning."
" Indeed, sir," said she, " I shall not."
" By heavens ! madam, but you shall," answered he ;
" I will have my coach at the door to-morrow morning
by seven; and you shall either go into it or be carried."
" I hope, sir, you are not in earnest," said she.
" Indeed, madam," answered he, " but I am in earnest,
and resolved : and into the country you go to-morrow."
" But why into the country," said she, " Mr. James ?
Why will you be so barbarous to deny me the pleasures
of the townl"
" Because you interfere with my pleasures," cried
James ; " which I have told you, long ago, I would not
submit to. It is enough for fond couples to have these
scenes together. I thought we had been upon a better
footing, and had cared too little for each other to be-
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 443
come mutual plagues. I thought you had been satisfied
with the full liberty of doing what you pleased."
" So I am ; I defy you to say I have ever given you
any uneasiness."
" How !" cries he ; " have you not just now upbraided
me with what you heard at the masquerade?"
*' I own," said she, " to be insulted by such a creature
to my face stung me to the soul, I must have had no
spirit to bear the insults of such an animal. Nay, she
spoke of you with equal contempt. Whoever she is, I
protnise you, Mr. Booth is her favourite. But, indeed,
she is unworthy any one's regard ; for she behaved like
an arrant dragoon."
" Hang her," cries the colonel : " I know nothing of
her."
" Well, but, Mr. James, I am sure you will not send
me into the country. Indeed, 1 will not go into the
country."
" If you was a reasonable woman," cries James, " per-
haps 1 should not desire it : and, on one considera-
tion—"
" Come, name your consideration," said she.
" Let me first experience your discernment," said he.
" Come, Molly, let me try your judgment. Can you
guess at any woman of your acquaintance that I like '?"
" Sure," said she, " it cannot be Mrs. Booth?"
" And why not Mrs. Booth V answered he. " Is she
not the finest woman in the world?"
" Very far from it," replied she, " in my opinion."
" Pray, what faults," said he, " can you find in her ?"
" In the first place," cries Mrs. James, " her eyes are
too large ; and she has a look with them that I don't
know how to describe ; but I know I don't like it. Then
her eyebrows are too large ; therefore, indeed, she does
all in her power to remedy this with her pincers ; for if
it was not for those, her eyebrows would be preposter-
ous. Then her nose, as well proportioned as it is, has
a visible scar on one side. Her neck, likewise, is too
protuberant for the genteel size, especially as she laces
herself; for no woman, in my opinion, can be genteel
who is not entirely flat before : and, lastly, she is both
too s«hort and too tall. Well, you may laugh, Mr.
James : I know what I mean, though I cannot well ex-
press it ; I mean, that she is too tall for a pretty woman,
and too short for a fine woman. There is such a thing
444 THE HISTORY OP AMELIA.
as a kind of insipid medium ; a kind of something that is
neither one thing nor another. I know not how to ex-
press it more clearly ; but when I say such a one is a
pretty woman, a pretty thing, a pretty creature, you
know very well I mean a little woman ; and when I say
such a one is a very fine woman, a very fine person of a
woman, to be sure 1 must mean a tall woman. Now a
woman that is between both, is certainly neither the one
nor the other."
" Well, I own," said he, " you have explained yourself
with great dexterity ; but, with all these imperfections, I
cannot help liking her."
" That you need not tell me, Mr. James," answered
the lady : " for that I knew before you desired me to in-
vite her to your house ; and, nevertheless, did not I, like
an obedient wife, comply with your desires? did I make
any objection to the party you proposed for the masquer-
ade, though I knew very well your motive ? What can
the best of wives do more 1 To procure you success, is
not in my power ; and, if I may give you my opinion, I
believe you never will succeed with her."
" Is her virtue so very impregnable]" said he, with a
sneer.
" Her virtue," answered Mrs. James, " has the best
guard in the world, which is a most violent love for her
husband."
" All pretence and affectation," cries the colonel. " It
is impossible she should have so little taste, or, indeed,
so little delicacy, as to like such a fellow."
" Nay, I do not much like him myself," said she : " he
is not, indeed, at all such a sort of man as I should like ;
but I thought he had been generally allowed to be hand-
some."
" He handsome?" cries James: " what, with a nose
like the proboscis of an elephant, with the shoulders of a
porter, and the legs of a chairman \ The fellow has not
in the least the look of a gentleman; and one would
rather think he had followed a plough than the camp all
his life."
" Nay, now I protest," said she, " I think you do him
injustice. He is genteel enough, in my opinion. It is
true, indeed, he is not quite of the most delicate make ;
but whatever he is, I am convinced she thinks him the
best man in the world."
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 445
*' I cannot believe it," answered he, peevishly : " but will
you invite her to dinner to-morrow V
" With all my heart, and as often as you please," an-
swered she. " But I have some favours to ask of you.
First, I must hear no more of going out of town till I
please."
" Very well," cries he.
" In the next place," said she, " I must have two hun-
dred guineas within these two or three days."
" Well, 1 agree to that too," answered he.
" And when 1 do go out of town, I go to Tunbridge, I
insist upon that; and from Tunbridge 1 go to Bath,
positively to Bath : and I promise you faithfully, I will do
all in my power to carry Mrs. Booth with me."
*' On that condition," answered he, " 1 promise you you
shall go wherever you please ; and to show you, I will
even prevent your wishes by my generosity : as soon as
I receive the five thousand pounds which I am going to
take up on one of my estates, you shall have two hundred
more."
She thanked him with a low courtesy ; and he was in
such good-humour, that he offered to kiss her. To this
kiss she coldly turned her cheek ; and then, flirting her
fan, said, " Mr. James, there is one thing I forgot to
mention to you; 1 think you intended to get a commis-
sion in some regiment abroad for this young man. Now,
if you would take my advice, 1 know this will not
oblige his wife ; and, besides, 1 am positive she resolves
to go with him. But, if you can provide for him in some
regiment at home, I know she will dearly love you for
it ; and when he is ordered to quarters, she will be left
behind; and Yorkshire or Scotland, I think, is as good a
distance as either of the Indies."
" Well, I will do what I can," answered .Tames; "but
I cannot ask anything yet ; for I got two places of a
hundred a year each for two of my footmen within this
fortnight."
At this instant a violent knock at the door signified the
arrival of their company ; upon which, both husband and
wife put on their best looks to receive their guests; and,
from their behaviour to each other during the rest of the
day, a stranger might have concluded he had been in
company with the fondest couple in the universe.
38
446 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
Chapter II. — Matters political.
Before we return to Booth, we will relate a scene in
which Dr. Harrison was concerned.
This good man, while in the country, happened to be
in the neighbourhood of a nobleman of his acquaintance,
and whom he knew to have very considerable interest
with the ministers at that time.
The doctor, who was very well known to this noble-
man, took this opportunity of paying him a visit, in order
to recommend poor Booth to his favour. Nor did he
much doubt of his success ; the favour he was to ask
being a very small one ; and to which, he thought, the
services of Booth gave him so just a title.
The doctor's name soon gained him an admission to the
presence of this great man, who indeed received him
with much courtesy and politeness ; not so much, per-
haps, from any particular regard to the sacred function,
nor from any respect to the doctor's personal merit, as
from some considerations, which the reader will, perhaps,
guess anon. After many ceremonials, and some previous
discourse on different subjects, the doctor opened his
business, and told the great man that he was come to him
to solicit a favour for a young gentleman who had been an
officer in the army, and was now on half-pay. " All the
favour I ask, my lord," said he, " is, that this gentleman
may be again admitted adeundem. 1 am convinced your
lordship will do me the justice to think I would not ask
for a worthless person : but, indeed, the young man I
mean has very extraordinary merit. He was at the siege
of Gibraltar, in which he behaved with distinguished
bravery ; and was dangerously wounded at two several
times in the service of his country. I will add, that he
is, at present, in great necessity, and has a wife and
several children, for whom he has no other means of
providing ; and, if it will recommend him further to your
lordship's favour, his wife, I believe, is one of the best
and worthiest of her sex."
" As to that, my dear doctor," cries the nobleman, " I
shall make no doubt : indeed, any service I shall do the
gentleman will be upon your account. As to necessity,
it is the plea of so many, that it is impossible to serve
them all ; and, with regard to the personal merit of these
I
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 447
inferior officers, I believe T need not tell you that it is
very little regarded. But, if you recommend him, let the
person be what he will, I am convinced it will be done ;
for I know it is in your power at present to ask for a
greater matter than this."
" I depend entirely upon your lordship," answered the
doctor.
" Indeed, my worthy friend," replied the lord, " I will
not take a merit to myself which will so httle belong to
nie. You are to depend on yourself. It falls out very
luckily, too, at this time, when you have it in your power
so greatly to oblige us."
" What, my lord, is in my power]" cries the doctor.
" You certainly know," answered his lordship, " how
hard Colonel Trompinglon is run at your town in the
election of a mayor; they tell me it will be a very near
thing unless you join us ; but we know it is in your power
to do the business and turn the scale. I heard your name
mentioned the other day on that account; and I know
you may have anything in reason, if you will give us
your interest."
"Sure, my lord," cried the doctor, "you are not in
earnest in asking my interest for the colonel ]"
*' Indeed 1 am," answered the peer; " why should you
doubt itr'
" For many reasons," answered the doctor. " First,
I am an old friend and acquaintance of Mr. Fairfield, as
your lordship, I believe, very well knows ; the little in-
terest, therefore, that I have, you may be assured will
go in his favour. Indeed, I do not concern myself deeply
in these affairs, for I do not think it becomes my cloth
so to do ; but, as far as I think it decent to interest my-
self, it will certainly be on the side of Mr. Fairfield. In-
deed, I should do so, if I was acquainted with both the
gentlemen only by reputation ; the one being a neigh-
bouring gentleman of a very large estate, a very sober
and sensible man, of known probity and attachment to
the true interest of his country; the other is a mere
stranger, a boy, a soldier of fortune ; and, as far as I can
discern from the little conversation I have had with
him, of a very shallow capacity and no education."
"No education, my dear friend 1" cries the noble-
man ; " why he has been educated in half the courts of
Europe."
" Perhaps so, my lord," answered the doctor ; " but I
448 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
shall always be so great a pedant, as to call a man of no
learning a man of no education; and from my own
knowledge I can aver, that I am persuaded there is
scarce a foot-soldier in the army who is more illiterate
than the colonel."
" Why, as to Latin and Greek, you know," replied the
lord, " they are not much required in the army."
*' It may be so," said the doctor. " Then let such per-
sons keep to their own profession. It is a very low
civil capacity indeed for which an illiterate man can be
qualified ; and, to speak a plain truth, if your lordship
is a friend to the colonel, you will do well to advise him
to decline an attempt, in which, I am certain, he has no
probabiUty of success."
" Well, sir," said the lord, "if you are resolved against
us, I must deal as freely with you, and tell you plainly I
cannot serve you in your affair. Nay, it will be the best
thing I can do to hold my tongue ; for, if I should men-
tion his name with your recommendation, after what you
have said, he would, perhaps, never get provided for as
long as he lives."
'• Is his own merit, then, my lord, no recommenda-
tion ?" cries the doctor.
" My dear, dear sir," cries the other, " what is the
merit of a subaltern officer 1"
" Surely, my lord," cries the doctor, " it is the merit
which should recommend him to the post of a subaltern
officer; and it is a merit which will hereafter qualify him
to serve his country in a higher capacity. And I do as-
sure you of this young man, that he has not only a good
heart, but a good head too ; and 1 have been told by those
who are judges, that he is, for his age, an excellent
officer."
" Very probably," cries my lord ; " and there are
abundance with the same merit, and the same qualifica-
tions, who want a morsel of bread for themselves and
their families."
" It is an infamous scandal on the nation," cries the
doctor ; " and I am heartily sorry it can be said even
with a colour of truth."
" How can it be otherwise ?" says the peer. " Do
you think it is possible to provide for all men of
merit?"
" Yes, surely do I," said the doctor ; " and very easily
too."
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 449
" How, pray V cries the lord ; " upon my word, I shall
be g-lad to know."
" Only by not providing for those who have none.
The men of merit in any capacity are not, I am afraid,
so extremely numerous, that we need starve any of
them, unless we wickedly suffer a set of worthless fel-
lows to eat their bread."
''This is all mere Utopia," cries his lordship; "the
chimerical system of Plato's commonwealth, with which
we amused ourselves at the university ; politics, which
are inconsistent with the state of human affairs."
"Sure, my lord," cries the doctor, "we have read of
states where such doctrines have been put in practice.
What is your lordship's opinion of Rome m the earlier
ages of the commonwealth, of Sparta, and even of Athens
itself in some periods of its history ■?"
" Indeed, doctor," cries the lord, " all these notions are
obsolete, and long since exploded. To apply maxims
of government drawn from the Greek and Roman histo-
ries to this nation, is absurd and impossible. But, if
you will have Roman examples, fetch them from those
times of the republic that were most like our ovi^n. Do
you not know, doctor, that this is as corrupt a nation as
ever existed under the sun? And would you think of
governing such a people by the strict principles of hon-
esty and morality V
" If it be so corrupt," said the doctor, " I think it is
high time to amend it, or else it is easy to foresee that
Roman and British liberty will have the same fate; for
corruption in the body politic as naturally tends to dis-
solution as in the natural body."
" I thank you for your simile," cries my lord ; " for in
the natural body, I believe, you will allow there is the
season of youth, the season of manhood, and the season
of old age ; and that, when the last of these arrives, it
will be an impossible attempt, by all the means of art,
to restore the body again to its youth, or to the vigour
of its middle age The same periods happen to every
great kingdom. In its youth, it rises by arts and arms
to power and prosperity ; this it enjoys, and flourisshes
with a while ; and then it may be said to be in the vigour
of its age, enriched at home with all the emoluments
and blessings of peace, and formidable abroad with all
the terrors of war. At length, this very prosperity in-
troduces corruption; and then comes on its old age.
38*
450 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
Virtue and learning, art and industry, decay by degrees ;
the people sink into sloth, and luxury, and prostitution ;
it is enervated at home, becomes contemptible abroad ;
and such, indeed, is its misery and wretchedness, that it
resembles a man in the last decrepit stage of life, who
looks with unconcern at his approaching dissolution."
" This is a melancholy picture, indeed," cries the doc-
tor; "and if the latter part of it can be applied to our
case, I see nothing but religion, which would have pre-
vented this decrepit state of the constitution, should pre-
vent a man of spirit from hanging himself out of the way
of so wretched a contemplation."
" Why so V said the peer : " why hang yourself, doc-
tor ? Would it not be wiser, think you, to make the
best of your time, and the most you can, in such a na-
tion r'
*' And is religion, then, to be really laid out of the ques-
tion 1" cries the doctor.
" If I am to speak my own opinion, sir," answered
the peer, '* you know I shall answer in the negative ; but
you are too well acquainted with the world to be told,
that the conduct of poUticians is not formed upon the
principles of religion."
" I am very sorry for it," cries the doctor ; " but I
will talk to them then of honour and honesty : this is a
language which, I hope, they will at least pretend to
understand. Now, to deny a man the preferment which
he merits, and to give it to another man who does not
merit it, is a manifest act of injustice, and is conse-
quently inconsistent with both honour and honesty.
Nor is it only an act of injustice to the man himself, but
to the public, for whose good, principally, all public of-
fices are, or ought to be instituted. Now, this good can
never be completed, nor obtained, but by employing all
persons according to their capacities. Wherever true
merit is liable to be superseded by favour and partiality,
and men are intrusted with offices without any regard
to capacity or integrity, the affairs of that state will al-
ways be in a deplorable situation ; such, as Livy tells us,
was the state of Capua, a little before its final destruc-
tion ; and the consequence your lordship well knows.
But, my lord, there is another mischief which attends
this kind of injustice, and that is, it has a manifest ten-
dency to destroy all virtue and all ability among the
people, by taking away all that encouragement and in-
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 451
centive which should promote emulation, and raise men
to aim at excelling in any art, science, or profession.
Nor can anything, my lord, contribute more to render a
nation contemptible among its neighbours ; for what
opinion can other countries have of the councils, or what
terror can they conceive of the arms of such a people 1
And it was chiefly owing to the avoiding of this error
that Oliver Cromwell carried the reputation of England
higher than it ever was at any other time. I will add
only one argument more, and that is founded on the
most narrow and selfish system of politics ; and this is,
that such a conduct is sure to create universal discon-
tent and grumbhng at home ; for nothing can bring men
to rest satisfied, when they see others preferred to them,
but an opinion that they deserve that elevation ; for, as
one of the greatest men this country ever produced ob-
serves,
' One worthless man, that gains what he pretends,
Disgusts a thousand unpretending friends.'
With what heart-burnings, then, must any nation see
themselves obliged to contribute to the support of a set
of men, of whose incapacity to serve them they are
well apprized ; and who do their country a double dis-
kindness, by being themselves employed in posts to
which they are unequal, and by keeping others out of
those employments for which they are qualified !"
" And do you really think, doctor," cries the nobleman,
" that any minister could support himself in this coun-
try upon such principles as you recommend ? Do you
think he would be able to baffle an opposition, unless
he should oblige his friends by conferring places, often
contrary to his own inclinations and his own opinions V'
" Yes, really do I," cries the doctor. " Indeed, if a
minister is resolved to make good his confession in the
liturgy, by leaving undone all those things which he
ought to have done, and by doing all those things which
he ought not to have done, such a minister, I grant,
will be obliged to baffle opposition, as you are pleased
to term it, by these arts ; for, as Shakspeare somewhere
says,
' Things ill begun strengthen themselves by ill ;'
but if, on the contrary, he will please to consider the
true interest of his country, and that only in great and
452 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
nationnl points ; if he will engage his country in neither
alliances nor quarrels, but where it is really interested ;
if he will raise no money but what is wanted, nor em-
ploy any civil or military officers but what are useful,
and place in these employments men of the highest in-
tegrity and of the greatest abilities ; if he will employ
some few of his hours to advance our trade, and some
few more to regulate our domestic government ; if he
would do this, my lord, I will answer for it, he shall
either have no opposition to baffle, or he shall baffle it
by a fair appeal to his conduct. Such a minister may,
in the language of the law, put himself on his country
when he pleases, and he shall come oflf with honour and
applause."
" And do you really believe, doctor," cries the peer,
"there ever was such a minister, or ever will be 1"
" Why not, my lord V answered the doctor : "it re-
quires no extraordinary parts, nor any extraordinary de-
gree of virtue. He need practise no great instances of
self-denial : he shall have power, and honour, and riches ;
and perhaps all in a much greater degree than he can
ever acquire by pursuing a contrary system : he shall
have more of each, and much more of safety."
" Pray, doctor," said my lord, " let me ask you one
simple question : do you really believe any man upon
earth was ever a rogue out of choice ?"
" Really, my lord," said the doctor, " I am ashamed
to answer in the affirmative ; and yet I am afraid expe-
rience would almost justify me if I should. Perhaps
the opinion of the world may sometimes mislead men to
think those measures necessary which in reality are not
so : or the truth may be, that a man of good inclinations
finds his office filled with such corruption by the iniquity
of his predecessors, that he may despair of being capa-
ble of purging it ; and so sits down contented, as Augeas
did with the filth of his stables ; not because he thought
them the better, or that such filth was really necessary
to a stable ; but that he despaired of sufficient force to
cleanse them."
" I will ask you one question more, and I have done,"
said the nobleman. " Do you imagine, that if any min-
ister was really as good as you would have him, that
the people in general would believe that he was so?"
" Truly, my lord," said the doctor, " I think they may
be justified in not believing too hastily : but I beg leave
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 453
to answer your lordship's question by another. Does
your lordship believe that the people of Greenland, when
they see the light of the sun, and feel his warmth, after
so long a season of cold and darkness, will really be
persuaded that he shines upon them ?"
My lord smiled at the conceit; and then the doctor
took an opportunity to renew his suit, to which his
lordship answered, he would promise nothing, and could
give him no hopes of success; "but you maybe as-
sured," said he, with a leering countenance, " 1 shall do
him all the service in my power;" a language which
the doctor well understood, and soon after took a civil,
but not a very ceremonious leave.
Chapter III.— The history of Mr. Trent.
We will now return to Mr. Booth and his wife. The
former had spent his time very uneasily, ever since he
had discovered what sort of man he was indebted to ;
but, lest he should forget it, Mr. Trent thought now
proper to remind him, in the following letter, which he
read the next morning after he had put off the appoint-
ment : —
"Sir,
" I am sorry the necessity of my affairs obliges me to mention
that small sum I had the honour to lend you the other night at play ;
and which I shall be much obliged to you if you will let me have
some time either to-day or to-morrow. I am, sir, your most obe-
dient, most humble servant,
" George Trent."
This letter a little surprised Booth, after the genteel,
and, indeed, as it appeared, generous behaviour of
Trent : but lest it should have the same effect upon the
reader, we will now proceed to account for this, as well
as for some other phenomena that have appeared in this
history ; and which, perhaps, we shall be forgiven for
not having opened more largely before.
Mr. Trent, then, was a gentleman, possibly of a good
family, for it was not certain whence he sprung on the
father's side. His mother, who was the only parent he
ever knew or heard of, was a single gentlewoman, and
for some time carried on the trade of a milliner in Cov-
ent Garden. She sent her son, at the age of eight years,
454 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
to a charity-school, where he remained till he was of
the as:e of fourteen, without making any great profi-
ciency in learning; indeed, it is not very probable he
should ; for the master, who, in preference to a very
learned and proper man, was chosen by a party into this
school, the salary of which was upwards of a hundred
pounds a year, had himself never travelled through the
Latin grammar, and was, in truth, a most consummate
blockhead.
At the age of fifteen, Mr. Trent was put clerk to an
attorney, where he remained a very short time before he
took leave of his master — rather, indeed, departed, with-
out taking leave ; and having broken open his mother's
escritoire, and carried off with him all the valuable ef-
fects he there found, to the amount of about fifty pounds,
he marched off to sea, and went on board a merchant-
man, whence he was afterward pressed into a man-of-war.
In this service he continued above three years ; during
which time he behaved so ill in his moral character,
that he twice underwent a very severe discipline for
thefts in which he was detected : but, at the same time,
he behaved so well as a sailor in an engagement with
some pirates, that he wiped off all former scores, and
greatly recommended himself to his captain.
At his return home, he being then about twenty years
of age, he found that the attorney had in his absence
married his mother, had buried her, and secured all her
effects, to the amount, as he was informed, of about fif-
teen hundred pounds. Trent applied to his stepfather,
but to no purpose ; the attorney utterly disowned him,
nor would he suffer him to come a second time within
his doors.
It happened that the attorney had, by a former wife,
an only daughter, a great favourite, who was about the
same age with Trent himself; and had, during his resi-
dence at her father's house, taken a very great hking to
this young fellow, who was extremely handsome, and
perfectly well made. This her liking was not, during
his absence, so far extinguished, but that it immediately
revived on his return. Of this she took care to give
Mr. Trent proper intimation; for she was not one of
those backward and delicate ladies who can die rather
than make the first overture. Trent was overjoyed at
this, and with reason ; for she was a very lovely girl in
her person, the only child of a rich father; and tho
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 455
prospect of so complete a revenge on the attorney
charmed him above all the rest. To be as short in the
matter as the parties, a marriage was soon consummated
between them.
The attorney at first raged, and was implacable ; but
at last fondness for his daughter so far overcame resent-
ment, that he advanced a sum of money to buy his son-
in-law (for now he acknowledged him as such) an en-
sign's commission in a marching regiment, then ordered
to Gibraltar; at which place, the attorney heartily hoped
that Trent might be knocked on the head ; for, in that
case, he thought he might marry his daughter more
agreeably to his own ambition, and to her advantage.
The regiment into which Trent purchased was the
same with that in which Booth liiiewise served; the one
being an ensign, and the other a lieutenant, in the two
additional companies.
Trent had no blemish in his military capacity. Though
he had but an indifferent education, he was naturally
sensible and genteel, for nature, as we have said, had
given him a very agreeable person. He was likewise a
very bold fellow; and, as he really behaved himself
every way well enough while he was at Gibraltar,
there was some degree of intimacy between him and
Booth.
When the siege was over, and the additional compa-
nies were again reduced, Trent returned to his wife, who
received him with great joy and affection. Soon after
this, an accident happened, which proved the utter ruin
of his father-in-law, and ended in breaking his heart ;
this was nothing but making a mistake, pretty common
at this day, of writing another man's name to a deed in-
stead of his own. In truth, this matter was no less
than what the law calls forgery, and was just then made
capital by an act of parliament. From this offence, in-
deed, the attorney was acquitted, by not admittins: the
proof of the party, who was to avoid his own deed, by
his evidence ; and therefore no witness, according to
those excellent rules called the law of evidence — a law
very excellently calculated for the preservation of the
lives of his majesty's roguish subjects, and most notably
used for that purpose.
But though by common law the attorney was honour-
ably 'acquitted, yet, as common sense manifested to every
onethat he was guilty, he unhappily lost his reputation,
456 THE HISTORY OP AMELIA.
and of consequence his business ; the chagrin of which
latter soon put an end to his hfe.
The prosecution had been attended with a very great
expense ; for, besides the ordinary costs of avoiding the
gallows, by the help of the law, there was a very high
article, of no less than a thousand pounds, paid down to
remove out of the way a witness, against whom there
was no legal exception. The poor gentleman had be-
sides suffered some losses in business ; so that, to the
surprise of all his acquaintance, when his debts were paid,
there remained no more than a small estate of fourscore
pounds a year, which he settled upon his daughter, far
out of the reach of her husband, and about two hundred
pounds ni money.
The old gentleman had not long been in his grave,
before Trent set himself to consider seriously of the
state of his affairs. He had lately begun to look on his
wife with a much less degree of liking and desire than
formerly ; for he was one of those who think too much
of one thing is good for nothing. Indeed, he had in-
dulged those speculations so far, that, I believe, his wife,
though one of the prettiest women in town, was the
last subject that he would have chosen for any amorous
dalliance.
Many other persons, however, greatly differed from
him in this opinion. Among the rest was the illustrious
peer, of amorous memory. This noble peer having
therefore got a view of Mrs. Trent one day in the street,
did, by means of an emissary then with him, make him-
self acquainted with her lodging, to which he imme-
diately laid siege in form, setting himself down in a lodg-
ing directly opposite to her, from whence the battery of
ogles began to play the very next morning.
This siege had not continued long before the governor
of the garrison became sufficiently apprized of all the
works which were carrying on ; and having well recon-
noitred the enemy, and discovered who he was, not-
withstanding a false name, and some disguise of his per-
son, he called a council of war within his own breast.
In fact, to drop all allegory, he began to consider
whether his wife was not really a more valuable posses-
sion than he had lately thought her. In short, as he had
been disappointed in her fortune, he now conceived some
hopes of turning her beauty itself into a fortune.
Without communicating these views to her, he soon
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 457
scraped an acquaintance with his opposite neighbour,
by the name which he there usurped, and counterfeited
an entire ig-norance of his real name and title. On this
occasion Trent had his disguise likewise, for he affected
the utmost simplicity ; of which affectation, as he was
a very artful fellow, he was extremely capable.
The peer fell plump into this snare ; and when, by the
simplicity, as he imagined, of the husband, he became
acquainted with the wife, he was so extravagantly
charmed with her person, that he resolved, whatever
was the cost or the consequence, he would possess her.
His lordship, however, preserved some caution in his
management of this affair; more, perhaps, than was ne-
cessary. As for the husband, none was requisite, for he
knew all he could ; and with regard to the wife herself,
as she had for some time perceived the decrease of her
husband's affection, (for few women are, I believe, to be
imposed upon in that matter,) she was not displeased to
find the return of all that complaisance and endearment,
of those looks and languishments, from another agreea-
ble person, which she had formerly received from Trent,
and which she now found she should receive from him
no longer.
My lord, therefore, having been indulged with as much
opportunity as he could wish from Trent, and having re-
ceived rather more encouragement than he could well
have hoped from the lady, began to prepare all mat-
ters for a storm ; when luckily Mr. Trent declaring he
must go out of town for two days, he fixed on the first
day of his departure as the time of carrying his design
into execution.
And now, after some debate within himself in what
manner he should approach his love, he at last deter-
mined to do it in his own person; for he conceived,
and perhaps very rightly, that the lady, like Semele,
was not void of ambition, and would have preferred Ju-
piter in all his glory to the same deity in the disguise of
an humble shepherd. He dressed himself, therefore, in
the richest embroidery of which he was master, and ap-
peared before his mistress arrayed in all the brightness
of peerage ; a sight, whose charms she had not the
power to resist, and the consequences are only to be ima-
gined. In short, the same scene which Jupiter acted with
his above-mentioned mistress of old was more than be-
ginning, when Trent burst from the closet into which
39 U
458 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
he had conveyed himself, and unkindly interrupted the
action.
His lordship presently ran to his sword ; but Trent,
with great calmness, answered, that as it was very well
known he durst fight, he should not draw his sword on
this occasion ; " for sure," says he, " my lord, it would
be the highest imprudence in me to kill a man who has
now become so considerably my debtor." At which
words, he fetched a person from the closet, who had
been confined with him; telling him he had done his
business, and might now, if he pieasedj retire.
It would be tedious here to amuse the reader with all
that passed on the present occasion ; the rage and con-
fusion of the wife, or the perplexity in which my lord
was involved. We will omit, therefore, all such mat-
ters, and proceed directly to business, as Trent and his
lordship did soon after; and, in the conclusion, my lord
stipulated a good round sum, and to provide Mr. Trent
with a good place on the first opportunity.
On the side of Mr Trent, was stipulated absolute re-
mission of all past, and full indulgence for the time to
come.
Trent now immediately took a house at the polite
end of the town, furnished it elegantly, and set up his
equipage, rigged out both himself and his wife with
very handsome clothes, frequented all public places
where he could get admission, pushed himself into ac-
quaintance ; and his wife soon afterward began to keep
an assembly, or, in the fashionable phrase, to be " at
home" once a week ; when, by my lord's assistance,
she was presently visited by most men of the first rank,
and by all such women of fashion as are not very nice in
their company.
My lord's amour with this lady lasted not long ; for,
as we have before observed, he was the most incon-
stant of all the human race. Mrs. Trent's passion was
not, however, of that kind which leads to any very deep
resentment of such fickleness : her passion, indeed, was
principally founded upon interest; so that foundation
served to support another superstructure : and she was
easily prevailed upon, as well as her husband, to be use-
ful to my lord in a capacity which, though very often
exerted in the polite world, has not as yet, to my great
surprise, acquired any polite name, or indeed any, which
is not too coarse to be admitted in this history.
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 459
After this preface, which we thought necessary to ac-
count for a character, of which some of my country and
collegiate readers might possibly doubt the existence, I
shall proceed to what more immediately regards Mrs.
Booth. The reader may be pleased to remember that
Mr. Trent was present at the assembly, to which Booth
and his wife were carried by Mrs. James, and where
Amelia was met by the noble peer.
His lordship, seeing there that Booth and Trent were
old acquaintance, failed not, to use the language of
sportsmen, to put Trent on upon the scent of Amelia :
for this purpose that gentleman visited Booth the very
next day, and had pursued him close ever since. By his
means, therefore, my lord learned that Amelia was to
be at the masquerade, to which place she was dogged by
Trent in a sailor's jacket, who, meeting my lord, accord-
ing to agreement, at the entrance of the opera-house,
like the four-legged gentlemen of the same vocation,
made a dead point, as it is called, at the game.
My lord was so satisfied and delighted with his con-
versation at the masquerade with the supposed Amelia,
and the encouragement which, in reality, she had given
him, that, when he saw Trent the next morning, he em-
braced hira with great fondness, gave him a bank-note
of a hundred pounds, and promised him both the Indies
on his success, of which he began now to have no man-
ner of doubt.
The affair that happened at the gaming-table was like-
wise a scheme of Trent's, on a hint given by my lord to
him, to endeavour to lead Booth into some scrape or dis-
tress; his lordship promising to pay whatever expense
Trent might be led into by such means. Upon his lord-
ship's credit, therefore, the money lent to Booth was
really advanced : and hence arose all that seeming gen-
erosity and indifference as to the payment; Trent being
satisfied with the obligations conferred on Booth, by
means of which he hoped to effect his purpose.
But now the scene was totally changed ; for Mrs. At-
kinson, the morning after the quarrel, beginning seri-
ously to recollect that she had carried the matter rather
too far, and might really injure Amelia's reputation — a
thought to which the warm pursuit of her own interest
had a good deal blinded her at the time, resolved to visit
my lord himself, and to let him into the whole story ;
for, as she had succeeded already in her favourite point,
U3
460 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
she thought she had no reason to fear any consequence
of the discovery. This resolution she immediately ex-
ecuted.
Trent came to attend his lordship, just after Mrs.
Atkinson had left him. He found the peer in a very ill
humour, and brought no news to comfort or recruit his
spirits ; for he had himself just received a billet from
Booth, with an excuse for himself and his wife from
accepting the invitation at Trent's house that evening,
where matters had been previously concerted for their
entertainment ; and when his lordship was by accident
to drop into the room where Amelia was, while Booth
was to be engaged at play in another.
And now, after much debate, and after Trent had ac-
quainted my lord with the wretched situation of Booth's
circumstances, it was resolved that Trent should im-
mediately demand his money of Booth, and, upon his
not paying it, (for they both concluded it impossible he
should pay it,) to put the note, which Trent had for the
money, in suit against him, by the genteel means of
paying it away to a nominal third person ; and this they
both conceived must end immediately in the ruin of
Booth, and, consequently, in the conquest of Amelia.
In this project, and with this hope, both my lord and
his setter, or (if the sportsmen please) setting-dog,
greatly exulted, and it was the next morning executed,
as we have already seen.
Chapter IV. — Containing some distress.
Trent's letter drove Booth almost to madness. To
be indebted to such a fellow at any rate, had stuck much
in his stomach, and had given him very great uneasiness ;
but to answer this demand in any other manner than by
paying the money was absolutely what he could not
bear. Again, to pay this money, he very plainly saw
there was but one way ; and this was, by stripping his
wife, not only of every farthing, but almost of every rag
she had in the world — a thought so dreadful, that it
chilled his very soul with horror : and yet pride at last
seemed to represent this as the lesser evil of the two.
But how to do this was still a question. It was not
sure, at least he feared it was not, that Amelia herself
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 461
would readily consent to this ; and so far from persua-
ding her to such a measure, he could not bear even to
propose it. At length his determination was to acquaint
his wife with the whole affair, and to ask her consent,
by way of asking her advice ; for he was well assured
she could find no other means of extricating him out of
his dilemma. This he accordingly did, representing the
affair as bad as he could ; though, indeed, it was impos-
sible for him to aggravate the real truth.
Amelia heard him patiently, without once interrupting
him. When he had finished, she remained silent some
time : indeed, the shock she received from this story
almost deprived her of the power of speaking. At last
she answered, '* Well, my dear, you ask my advice. I
certainly can give no other than that the money mus-t
be paid."
" But how must it be paid?" cries he. *' Oh heavens f
thou sweetest creature ! what, not once upbraid me for
bringing this ruin on thee ]"
" Upbraid you, my dear !" says she ; " would to Hea-
ven 1 could prevent your upbraiding yourself. But do
not despair : I wiii endeavour by some means or other
to get y-ou the money."
'* Alas ! my dear love," cries Booth, " I knovsr the
only way by which you can raise it. How can I con-
sent to that ■? Do you forget the fears you so lately
■expressed, of what would be our wretched condition,
when eur little all was mouldered away ] Oh, my Ame-
lia ! they cut ray very heart-strings when you spoke
them ; for I had then lost this little all. Indeed, I assure
you, I have not played since, nor ever will more."
"Keep that resolution," said she, "my dear, and I
hope we shall yet recover the past." At which words,
casting her eyes on the children, the tears burst from
them, and she cried, "Heaven will, I hope, provide for
us."
A pathetic scene now ensued between the husband and
wife, which would not, perhaps, please many readers
to see drawn at too full a length. It is sufficient to say,
that this excellent woman not only used her utmost en-
deavours to stifle and conceal her own concern, but said
and did everything in her power to allay that of her
husband.
Booth was, at this time, to meet a person whom we
have formerly mentioned in the course of our history.
39*
462 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
This gentleman had a place in the war-ofRce, and pre-
tended to be a man of great interest and consequence ;
by which means he did not only receive great respect
and court from the inferior officers, but actually bubbled
several of their money, by undertaiiing to do them ser-
vices, which, in reality, were not within his power. In
truth, I have known few great men who have not been
beset with one or more such fellow-s as these, through
whonj the inferior part of mankmd are obliged to make
their court to the great themselves ; by which means, I
believe, principally, persons of real merit have been
often deterred from the attempt ; for these subaltern
coxcombs ever assume an equal state with their masters,
and look for an equal degree of respect to be paid to them,
to which men of spirit, who are in every light their bet-
ters, are not easily brought to submit. These fellows,
indeed, themselves have a jealous eye towards all great
abilities, and are sure, to the utmost of their power, to
keep all who are so endowed from the presence of their
masters. They use their masters as bad ministers have
sometimes used a prince ; they keep all men of merit
from his ears, and daily sacrifice his true honour and
interest to their own profit and their own vanity.
As soon as Booth was gone to his appointment with
this man, Amelia immediately betook herself to her
business with the highest resolution. She packed up
not only her own little trinkets, and those of the children,
but the greater part of her own poor clothes; (for she
was but barely provided ;) and then drove in a hackney-
coach to the same pawnbroker's who had before been
recommended to her by Mrs. Atkinson, who advanced
her the money she desired.
Being now provided with her sum, she returned well
pleased home ; and her husband coming in soon after,
she with much cheerfulness delivered him all the money.
Booth was so overjoyed with the prospect of dis-
charging his debt to Trent, that he did not perfectly
retlect on the distress to which his family was now re-
duced. The good-humour which appeared in the coun-
tenance of Amelia was, perhaps, another help to stifle
those reflections ; but, above all, were the assurances he
had received from the great man, whom he had met at
u coffee-house, and who had promised to do him all
the service in his power, which several half-pay subaltern
officers assured him was very considerable.
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 463
With this comfortable news he acquainted his wife,
who either was, or seemed to be, extremely well
pleased with it : and now he set out, with the money in
his pocket, to pay his friend Trent, who, unluckily for
him, happened not to be at home.
On his return home, he met his old friend the lieu-
tenant, who thankfully paid him his crown, and insisted
on his going with him and taking part of a bottle. This
invitation was so eager and pressing, that poor Booth,
who could not resist much importunity, complied.
While they were over this bottle, Booth acquainted
his friend with the promises he had received that after-
noon at the coffee-house, with which the old gentleman
was very well pleased ; " for 1 have heard," says he,
" that gentleman has very powerful interest ;" but he
informed him, likewise, that he had heard the great man
must be touched ; for he never did anything without
touching. Of this, indeed, the great man himself had
given some oblique hints, by sayuig, with great sagacity
and slyness, that he knew where fifty pounds might be
deposited to much advantage.
Booth answered that he would very readily advance
a small sum if he had it in his power, but that at pres-
ent it was not so; for that he had no more in the world
than the sum of fifty pounds, which he owed Trent,
and which he intended to pay him the next morning.
"It is very right, undoubtedly, to pay your debts,"
says the old gentleman ; " but sure, on such an occa-
sion, any man but the rankest usurer would be con-
tented to stay a little while for his money ; and it will
be only a little while, I am convinced ; for if you de-
posite this sum in the great man's hands, I make no
doubt but you will succeed immediately in getting your
commission ; and then I will help you to a method of
taking up such a sum as this." The old gentleman per-
sisted in this advice, and backed it with every argument
he could invent; declaring, as was indeed true, that he
gave the same advice which he would pursue, was the
case his own.
Booth long rejected the opinion of his friend, till, as
they had not argued with dry lips, he became heated
with wine, and then at last the old gentleman succeeded.
Indeed, such was his love, either for Booth or for his own
opinion, and perhaps for both, that he omitted nothing in
his power ; he even endeavoured to palliate the char-
464 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
acter of Trent, and unsaid half what he had before said
of that gentleman, in the end, he undertook to make
Trent easy, and to go to him the very next n^ormng for
that purpose.
Poor Booth at last yielded, though with the utmost
difficulty. Indeed, had he known quite as much of
Trent as the reader does, no motive whatsoever would
have prevailed on him to have taken the old gentleman'?
advice.
Chapter V. — Containing more wormwood and other ingredients.
In the morning Booth communicated the matter to
Amelia, who told him she would not presume to advise
him in an affair of which he was so much the better
judge.
While Booth remained in a doubtful state what con-
duct to pursue, Bound came to make him a visit, and
informed him that he had been at Trent's house, but
found him not at home ; adding, that he would pay him
a second visit that very day, and would not rest till he
found him.
Booth was ashamed to confess his wavering resolu-
tion, in an affair in which he had been so troublesome
to his friend : he therefore dressed himself immediately,
and together they both went, to wait on the little great
man, to whom Booth now hoped to pay his court in the
most effectual manner.
Bound had been longer acquainted with the modern
methods of business than Booth ; he advised his friend,
therefore, to begin with tipping, as it is called, the great
man's servant. He did so, and by that means got
speedy access to the master.
The great man received the money, not as a gudgeon
d,oes a bait, but as a pi^e receives a poor gudgeon into
his maw. To say the truth, such fellows as these may
well be likened to that voracious fish, who fattens him-
self by devouring all the little inhabitants of the riyer.
As soon as the great man had pocketed the cash, he
shook Booth by the hand, and told him he would be
sure to slip no opportunity of serving him, and would
send him word as soon as any offered.
Here I shall stop one rjioment, and so, perhaps, will
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 465
my good-natured reader ; for, surely, it must be a hard
heart which is not affected with reflecting on the man-
ner in which this poor little sum was raised, and on the
manner in which it was bestowed ; a worthy family,
the wife and children of a man who had lost his blood
abroad in the service of his country, parting with their
little all, and exposed to cold and hunger, to pamper
such a fellow as this !
And if any such reader as I mention should happen
to be in reality a great man, and in power, perhaps the
horror of this picture may induce him to put a final end
to this abominable practice of touching, as it is called ;
by which, indeed, a set of leeches are permitted to suck
the blood of the brave and the indigent, of the widow
and the orphan.
Booth now returned home, where he found his wife
with Mrs. James. Amelia had, before the arrival of her
husband, absolutely refused Mrs. James's invitation to
dinner the next day ; but when Booth came in, the lady
renewed her application, and that in so pressing a man-
ner, that Booth seconded her ; for though he had enough
of jealousy in his temper, yet such was his friendship
to the colonel, and such his gratitude for the obligations
which he had received from him, that his own unwilling-
ness to believe anything ill of him co-operating with
Amelia's endeavours to put everything in the fairest
light, had brought him to acquit his friend of any ill
design. To this, perhaps, the late affair concerning my
lord had moreover contributed ; for it seems to me that
the same passion cannot much energize on two differ-
ent objects at one and the same time ; an observation
ivhich, I believe, will hold as true with regard to the
cruel passions of jealousy and anger, as to the gentle
passion of love, in which one great and mihgty object
is sure to engage the whole passion.
When Booth grew importunate, Amelia answered,
" My dear, I should not refuse you whatever was in my
power; but this is absolutely out of my power; for,
since I must declare the truth, I cannot dress myself."
" Why so ?" said Mrs. James : " I am sure you are in
good health."
"Is there no other impediment to dressing but want
of health, madam?" answered Amelia.
" Upon niy word, none that I know of," replied Mrs.
James.
U3
466 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
*' What do you think of want of clothes, madam 1"
said Amelia.
"Ridiculous !" cries Mrs. James. " What need have
you to dress yourself out ? You will see nobody but
our own family, and I promise you I don't expect it.
A plain night-gown will do very well."
" But iff must be plain with you, madam," said Ame-
lia, " I have no other clothes but what I have now on
my back. I have not even a clean shift in the world ;
for )ou must know, my dear," said she to Booth, " that
little Betty has walked off this morning, and has carried
all my linen with her."
" How, my dear !" cries Booth, " little Betty robbed
you r'
" It is even so," answered Amelia. Indeed, she spoke
truth ; for little Betty, having perceived, the evening be-
fore, that her mistress was moving her goods, was wil-
ling to lend all the assistance in her power, and had ac-
cordingly moved off early that morning, taking with her
whatever she could lay her hands on.
Booth expressed himself with some passion on the
occasion, and swore he would make an example of the
girl. " If the little slut be above ground," cried he, " I
will find her out, and bring her to justice."
" I am really sorry for this accident," said Mrs. James ;
" and, though I know not how to mention it, I beg you'll
give me leave to offer you any linen of mine, till you can
make new of your own."
Amelia thanked Mrs. James, but declined the favour,
saying she should do well enough at home ; and that, as
she had no servant now to take care of her children,
she could not, nor would not, leave them on any ac-
count.
" Then bring master and miss with you," said Mrs.
James; "you shall positively dine with us to-morrow."
" 1 beg, madam, you will mention it no more," said
Amelia : " for besides the substantial reasons I have
already given, I have some things on my mind at pres^
ent which make me unfit for company ; and 1 am re-
solved nothing shall prevail on me to stir from home."
Mrs. James had carried her invitation already to the
very utmost limits of good-breeding, if not beyond them.
She desisted, therefore, from going any further; and,
after some short stay longer, took her leave, with many
•Hxpressions of concern, which, however, great as it was,
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 467
left her heart and her mouth together before she was
out of the house.
Booth now declared that he would go in pursuit of
little Betty, against whom he vowed so much ven-
geance, that Amelia endeavoured to moderate his anger,
by representing to him the girl's youth, and that this
was the first fault she had ever been guilty of. " In-
deed," said she, " I should be very glad to have my
things again, and I would have the girl too punished in
some degree, which might possibly be for her own
good ; but 1 tremble to think of taking away her life ;"
for Booth, in his rage, had sworn he would hang her.
" I know the tenderness of your heart, my dear," said
Booth ; '' and I love you for it ; but I must beg leave to
dissent from your opinion. I do not tliink the girl in
any light an object of mercy. She is not only guilty of
dishonesty, but of cruelty ; for she must know our situa-
tion, and the very httle we had left. She is, besides,
guilty of ingratitude to you, who have treated her with
so much kindness, that you have rather acted the part
of a mother than a mistress ; and so far from thinking
her youth an excuse, I think it rather an aggravation. It
is true, indeed, there are faults which the youth of the
party very strongly recommends to our pardon: such
are all those which proceed from carelessness and want
of thought ; but crimes of this black die, which are com-
mitted with deliberation, and imply a bad mind, deserve
a more severe punishment in a young person than one
of riper years; for what must the mind be in old age,
which has acquired such a degree of perfection in vil-
lany so very early i Such persons as these it is really
a charity to the public to put out of society : and, in-
deed, a religious man would put them out of the world
for the sake of themselves ; for whoever understands
anything of human nature, must know that such people,
the longer they live, the more they*will accumulate vice
and wickedness."
" Well, my dear," cries Amelia, " I cannot argue with
you on these subjects. I shall always submit to your
superior judgment ; and I know you too well, to think
that you will ever do anything cruel."
Booth then left Amelia to take care of her children,
and went in pursuit of the thief.
468 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
Chapter VI.— A scene of the tragic kind.
He had not been long gone before a thundering knock
was heard at the door of the house where Araeha lodged,
and presently after, a figure, all pale and ghastly, and
almost breathless, rushed mto the room where she then
was with her children.
This figure Anieha soon recognised to be Mrs. Atkin-
son, though, indeed, she was so disguised, that at her
first entrance Amelia scarce knew her. Her eyes were
sunk in her head, her hair dishevelled; and not only her
dress, but every feature in her face was in the utmost
disorder.
Amelia was greatly shocked at this sight, and the lit-
tle girl was much frightened : as for the boy, he imme-
diately knew her, and running to Amelia, he cried, " La!
mamma, what is the matter with poor Mrs. Atkinson ?"
As soon as Mrs. Atkinson recovered her breath, she
cried out, " Oh, Mrs. Booth ! I am the most miserable
of women ; I have lost the best of husbands."
Amelia, looking at her with all the tenderness imagin-
able, forgetting, 1 believe, that there had ever been any
quarrel between them, said, " Good heavens, madam,
what's the matter V
" Oh, Mrs. Booth !" answered she, " I fear I have lost
my husband. The doctor says there is but little hope
of his life. Oh, madam ! however I have been in the
wrong, I am sure you will forgive me and pity me. I
am sure I am severely punished ; for to that cursed af-
fair I owe all my misery."
"Indeed, madam," cries Amelia, "I am extremely
concerned for your misfortune : but, pray, tell me, has
anything happened to the sergeant 1"
" Oh, madam !" cries she, " I have the greatest reason
to fear 1 shall lose him. The doctor has almost given
him over : he says he has scarce any hopes. Oh,
madam! that evening that the fatal quarrel happened
between us, my dear captain took it so to heart, that he
sat up all night, and drank a whole bottle of brandy. In-
deed, he said he wished to kill himself; for nothing
could have hurt him so much in the world, he said, as
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 469
to have any quarrel between you and me. His concern,
and what he drank together, threw him into a high fe-
ver; so that, when I came home from my lord's, (for in-
deed, madam, 1 have been and set all to rights ; your
reputation is now in no danger) — when I came home, I
say, I found the poor man ni a raving delirious fit, and
in that he has continued ever since, till about an hour
ago, when he came perfectly to his senses : but now, he
says, he is sure he shall die, and begs, for Heaven's sake,
to see you first. Would you, madam, would you have
the goodness to grant my poor captain's desire 1 Con-
sider, he is a dying man, and neither he nor I shall ever
ask you a second favour. He says he has something to
say to you that he can mention to no other person, and
that he cannot die in peace unless he sees you,"
" Upon my word, madam," cries Amelia, " I am ex-
tremely concerned at what you tell me. I knew the
poor sergeant from his infancy, and always had an af-
fection for him, as I think him to be one of the best-na-
tured and honestest creatures upon earth. I am sure,
if I could do him any service — but of what use can my
going be V
" Of the highest in the world," answered Mrs. Atkin-
son. " If you knew how earnestly he entreated it, how
his poor breaking heart begged to see you, you would
not refuse."
" Nay, I do not absolutely refuse," cries Amelia.
" Something to say to me of consequence, and that he
could not die in peace unless he said it — did he say that,
Mrs. Atkinson V
" Upon my honour he did," answered she, " and much
more than I have related."
"Well, I will go with you," cries Amelia; "I cannot
guess what this should be ; but I will go."
Mrs. Atkinson then poured out a thousand blessings
and thanksgivings; and, taking hold of Amelia's hand
and eagerly kissing it, cried out, " How could that fury,
passion, drive me to quarrel with such a creature V
Amelia told her she had forgiven and forgotten it;
and then, calling up the mistress of the house, and com-
mitting to her the care of the children, she cloaked
herself up as well as she could, and set out with Mrs.
Atkinson.
When they arrived at the house, Mrs. Atkinson said
she would go first, and give the captain some notice ;
40
470 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
for that if Amelia entered the room unexpectedly the
surprise might have an ill effect. She left therefore
Amelia in the parlour, and proceeded directly up stairs.
Poor Atkinson, weak and bad as was his condition,
no sooner heard that Amelia was come than he discov-
ered great joy in his countenance, and presently after-
ward she was introduced to him.
Atkinson exerted his utmost strength to thank her for
this goodness to a dying man, for so he called himself.
He said he should not have presumed to give her this
trouble, had he not had something which he thought of
consequence to say to her, and which he could not men-
tion to any other person. He then desired his wife to
give him a little box, of which he always kept the key
himself, and afterward begged her to leave the room for
a few minutes, at which neither she nor Amelia ex-
pressed any dissatisfaction.
When he was alone with Amelia, he spoke as follows:
" This, madam, is the last time my eyes will ever behold
what — do pardon me, madam, I will never offend you
more." Here he sunk down in his bed, and the tears
gushed from his eyes.
" Why should you fear to offend me, Joe ?" said Ame-
lia; "1 am sure you never did anything wiUingly to
offend me."
"No, madam," answered he. "I would die a thou-
sand times before I would have ventured it in the small-
est matter. But — I cannot speak — and yet I nmst.
You cannot pardon me ; and yet, perhaps, as I am a
dying man, and never shall see you more — indeed, if I
was to live after this discovery, 1 should never dare to
look you in the face again — and yet, madam, to think
I shall never see you more is worse than ten thousand
deaths."
" Indeed, Mr. Atkinson," cries Amelia, blushing, and
looking down to the floor, " I must not hear you talk in
this manner. If you have anything to say, tell it me,
and do not be afraid of my anger; for I think I may
promise to forgive whatever it was possible you should
do."
" Here then, madam," said he, " is your picture. I
stole it when I was eighteen years of age, and have kept
it ever since. It is set in gold, with three little dia-
monds ; and yet I can truly say, it was not the gold nor
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 471
the diamonds which I stole : it was that face ; which, if
I had been the emperor of the world — "
" I must not hear any more of this," said she. " Com-
fort yourself, Joe, and think no more of this matter. Be
assured I freely and heartily forgive you. But pray
compose yourself. Come, let me call in your wife."
" First, madam, let me beg one favour," cried he.
" Consider it is the last, and then I shall die in peace.
Let me kiss that hand before I die."
" Well ; nay," says she, " I don't know what I am
doing; well — there." She then carelessly gave him her
hand, which he put gently to his lips, and then presently
let it drop, and fell back in the bed.
Amelia now summoned Mrs. Atkinson, who was,
indeed, no farther off than just without the door. She
then hastened down stairs and called for a great glass of
water, which having drunk off, she threw herself into
a chair, and the tears ran plentifully from her eyes with
compassion for the poor wretch she had just left in his
bed.
To say the truth, without any injury to her chastity,
that heart, which had stood firm as a rock to all the
attacks of title and equipage, of finery and flattery, and
vi^hich all the treasures of the universe could not have
purchased, was yet a little softened by the plain, honest,
modest, involuntary, delicate, heroic passion of this poor
and humble swain; for whom, in spite of herself, she
felt a momentary tenderness and complacence, at which
Booth, if he had known it, would perhaps have been dis-
pleased.
Having stayed some time in the parlour, and not finding
Mrs. Atkinson come down, (for indeed her husband was
then so bad she could not quit him,) Amelia left a mes-
sage with the maid of the house for her mistress, pur-
porting that she should be ready to do anything in her
power to serve her ; and then left the house, with a con-
fusion on her mind that she had never felt before, and
which any chastity that is not hewn out of marble must
feel on so tender and delicate an occasion.
472 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
Chapter VII.— In which Mr. Booth meets with more than one
adventure.
Booth, having hunted about for two hours, at last saw
a young lady in a tattered silk gown, stepping out of a
shop in Monmouth-street into a hackney-coach. This
lady, notwithstanding the disguise of her dress, he pres-
ently discovered to be no other than little Betty.
He instantly gave the alarm of " Stop thief, stop
coach !" upon which Mrs. Betty was immediately stopped
in her vehicle, and Booth and his myrmidons laid hold
of her.
The girl no sooner found that she was seized by her
master, than the consciousness of her guilt overpowered
her, for she was not as yet an experienced offender, and
she immediately confessed her crime.
She was then carried before a justice of peace, where
she was searched, and there was found in her possession
four shillings and sixpence in money, besides the silk
gown, which was indeed proper furniture for Rag Fair,
and scarce worth a single farthing, though the honest
shopkeeper in xMonmouth-street had sold it for a crown
to this simple girl.
The girl, being examined by the magistrate, spoke as
follows: — "Indeed, sir, an't please your worship, I am
very sorry for what I have done ; and to be sure, an't
please your honour, my lord, it must have been the devil
that put me upon it; for to be sure, please your ma-
jesty, I never thought upon such a thing in my whole
life before, any more than I did of my dying day ; but
indeed, sir, an't please your worship—"
She was running on in this manner when the justice
interrupted her. and desired her to give an account of
what she had taken from her master, and what she had
done with it.
" Indeed, an't please your niRJesty," said she " I took
no more than two shifts of madam's, and I pawned them
for five shillings, which I gave for the gown that's upon
my back ; and as for the money in my pocket, it is every
farthing of it my own. 1 am sure 1 intended to cany
back the shifts too as soon as ever I could get money
to take them out."
The girl having told them where the pawnbroker
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 473
lived, the justice sent to him, to produce the shifts,
which he presently did ; for he expected thnt a war-
rant to search his house would be the consequence of
his refusal.
The shifts being produced, on which the honest pawn-
broker had lent five shillings, they appeared plainly
to be worth above thirty; indeed, when new, they had
cost much more : so that by their goodness, as well as
by their size, it was certain they could not belong to the
girl.
Booth grew very warm against the pawnbroker. " I
hope, sir," said he to the justice, " there is some punish-
ment for this fellow likewise, who so plainly appears
to have known that these goods were stolen. The
shops of these fellows may, indeed, be called the foun-
tains of theft ; for it is, in reality, the encouragement
which they meet with from these receivers of their
goods that induces men very often to become thieves ;
so that these deserve equal, if not severer punishment,
than the thieves themselves."
The pawnbroker protested his innocence, and denied
the taking in the shifts. Indeed, in this he spoke truth ;
for he had shpped into an inner room, as was always
his custom on these occasions, and left a little boy to do
the business; by which means he had carried on the
trade of receiving stolen goods for many years with im-
punity, and had been twice acquitted at the Old Bailey,
though the juggle appeared upon the most manifest
evidence.
As the justice was going to speak, he was interrupted
by the girl, who, falling upon her knees to Booth, with
many tears begged his forgiveness.
" Indeed, Betty," cries Booth, " you do not deserve
forgiveness ; for you know you had very good reasons
why you should not have thought of robbing your mis-
tress, particularly at this time : and what further aggra-
vates your crime is, that you have robbed the best and
kindest mistress in the world. Nay, you are not only
guilty of felony, but of a felonious breach of trust ; for
you know very well, everything your mistress had was
intrusted to your care."
Now it happened, by very great accident, that the
justice, before whom the girl was brought, under-
stood the law. Turning therefore to Booth, he said,
40*
474 THE HISTORY OP AMELIA.
**Do you say, sir, that this girl was intrusted with the
shifts r'
" Yes, sir," said Booth ; " she was intrusted with
everything."
" And will you swear that the goods stolen," said the
justice, " are worth forty shillings "?"
" No, indeed, sir," answered Booth, " nor that they
are worth thirty either."
" Then, sir," cries the justice, " the girl cannot be
guilty of felony."
*' How, sir," said Booth, " is it not a breach of trust 1
and is not a breach of trust felony, and the worst felony
too r'
" No, sir," answered the justice ; " a breach of trust
is no crime in our law, unless it be in a servant; and
then the act of parliament requires the goods taken to
be of the value of forty shillings."
" So, then, a servant," cries Booth, " may rob his mas-
ter of thirty-nine shillings whenever he pleases, and he
can't be punished."
" If the goods are under his care, he can't," cries the
justice.
" I ask your pardon, sir," says Booth : " T do not
doubt what you say ; but sure this is a very extraordi-
nary law."
"Perhaps I think so too," said the justice; "but it
belongs not to my office to make or to mend laws :
my business is only to execute them. If, therefore, the
case be as you say, I must discharge the girl."
" I hope, however, you will punish the pawnbroker,"
cries Booth.
" If the girl is discharged," cries the justice, " so must
be the pawnbroker; for, if the goods are not stolen, he
cannot be guilty of receiving them, knowing them to be
stolen : and besides, as to his offence, to say the truth,
I am almost weary of prosecuting it; for such are the
difficulties laid in the way of this prosecution, that it is
almost impossible to convict any one on it : and to speak
my opinion plainly, such are the laws, and such the
method of proceeding, that one would almost think our
laws were rather made for the protection of rogues,
than for the punishment of them."
Thus ended this examination : the thief and the re-
ceiver went about their business, and Booth departed, in
order to go home to his wife.
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 475
In his way home Booth was met by a lady in a
chair, who, immediately upon seeing him, stopped her
chair, bolted out of it, and, going directly up to him,
said, " So, Mr. Booth, you have kept your word with
me !"
This lady was no other than Miss Matthews, and the
speech she meant was of a promise made to her at the
masquerade, of visiting her within a day or two ; which
whether he ever intended to keep I cannot say : but, in
truth, the several accidents that had since happened to
him had so discomposed his mind, that he had abso-
lutely forgotten it.
Booth, however, was too sensible and too well-bred
to make the excuse of forgetfulness to a lady ; nor could
he readily find any other. While he stood, therefore,
hesitating, and looking not over-wise. Miss Matthews
said, " Well, sir, since by your confusion I see you have
some grace left, I will pardon you on one condition;
and that is, that you will sup with me this night ; but if
you fail me now, expect all the revenge of an injured
woman." She then bound herself by a most outra-
geous oath, that she would complain to his wife : "And
1 am sure," says she, *' she is so much a woman of
honour as to do me justice : and though I miscarried
in my first attempt, be assured I will take care of my
second."
Booth asked what she meant by her first attempt;
to which she answered, that she had already written his
wife an account of his ill-usage of her, but that she was
pleased it had miscarried. She then repeated her as-
severations, that she would now do it effectually if he
disappointed her.
This threat she reckoned would most certainly terrify
poor Booth ; and, indeed, she was not mistaken ; for I
believe it would have been impossible, by any other
menace, or by any other means, to have brouglit him
once even to balance in his mind on this question. But
by this threat she prevailed ; and Booth promised, upon
his word and honour, to come to her at the hour she
appointed : after which, she took leave of him with a
squeeze of the hand, and a smiling countenance, and
walked back to her chair.
But, however she might be pleased with having ob-
tained this promise. Booth was far from being delighted
with the thoughts of having given it. He looked, in-
476 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
deed, upon the consequences of this meeting with hor-
ror; but, as to the consequence which was so apparently-
intended by the lady, he resolved against it. At length,
he canie to this determination; to go according to his
appointment, to argue the matter with the lady, and to
convince her, if possible, that, from a regard to his hon-
our only, he must discontinue her acquaintance. If this
failed to satisfy her, and she still persisted in her threats
to acquaint his wife with the affair, he then resolved,
whatever pain it cost him, to communicate the whole
truth himself to Amelia, from whose goodness he
doubted not but to obtain an absolute remission.
Chapter VIII.— In which Amelia appears in alight more amiable
than gay.
We will now return to Amelia, whom we left in
some perturbation of mind departing from Mrs. Atkin-
son.
Though she had before walked through the streets in
a very improper dress with Mrs. Atkinson, she was un-
willing, especially as she was alone, to return in the
same manner : indeed, she was scarce able to walk in her
present condition; for the case of poor Atkinson had
much affected her tender heart, and her eyes had over-
flown with many tears.
It occurred likewise to her at present, that she had
not a single shilling in her pocket, or at home, to pro-
vide food for herself and her family. In this situation
she resolved to go immediately to the pawnbroker,
whither she had gone before, and to deposite her picture
for what she could r^ise upon it. She then immediately
took a chair, and put her design in execution.
The intrinsic value of the gold in which this picture
was set, and of the little diamonds which surrounded it,
amounted to nine guineas. ""I'his, therefore, was advanced
to her; and the prettiest face in the world (such is often
the fate of beauty) was deposited, as of no value, into
the bargain.
When she came home, she found the following letter
from Mrs. Atkinson : —
"Mr Dearest Madam,
As I know your goodness, I could not delay a moment acquaint-
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 477
ing you with the happy turn of my affairs since you went. The
doctor, on his return to visit my husband, has assured me that the
captain was on the recovery, and in very little danger ; and I really
thmk he is since mended. I hope to wait on you soon with better
news. Heaven bless you, dear madam ! and believe me to be, with
the utmost sincerity, your most obliged, obedient, humble servant,
"Atkinson."
Amelia was really pleased with this letter; and now,
it being- past four o'clock, she despaired of seeing her
husband till the evening: she therefore provided some
tarts for her children ; and then eating nothing but a
slice of bread and butter herself, she began to prepare
for the captain's supper.
Th<^re were two things of which her husband was
particularly fond, which, though it may bring the sim-
plicity of his taste into great contempt with some of my
readers, I will venture to name : these were a fowl and
egg sauce, and mutton broth; both which Amelia imme-
diately purchased.
As soon as the clock struck seven, the good creature
went down into the kitchen, and began to exercise her
talents of cookery, of which she was a great mistress,
as she was of every economical office, from the highest
to the lowest ; and as no woman could outshine her in
a drawing-room, so none could make the drawing-room
itself shine brighter than Amelia: and, if I may speak a
bold truth, I question whether it be possible to view
this fine creature in a more amiable light, than while
she was dressing her husband's supper, with her little
children playing round her.
It was now half an hour past eight, and the meat al-
most ready, the table likewise neatly spread with ma-
terials borrowed from her landlady, and she began to
grow a little uneasy at Booth's not returning; when a
sudden knock at the door roused her spirits, and she
cried, " There, my dear, there is your good papa ;" at
which words she darted swiftly up stairs, and opened
the door to her husband.
She desired her husband to walk up to the dining-
room, and she would come to him in an instant ; for she
was desirous to increase his pleasure, by surprising him
with his two favourite dishes. She then went down
again to the kitchen, where the maid of the house un-
dertook to send up the supper ; and she with her chil-
dren returned to Booth.
478 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
He then told her concisely what had happened with
relation to the girl, to which she scarce made any an-
swer; but asked him if he had not dined. He assured
her he had not eaten a morsel the whole day. " Well,"
says she, " my dear, I am a fellow-sufferer, but we shall
both enjoy our supper the more; for I have made a
little provision for you, as I guessed what might be the
case. I have got you a bottle of wine too ; and here is
a clean cloth and a smiling countenance, my dear Will.
Indeed, I am in unusual good spirits to-night, and Ihave
made a promise to the children, which you must con-
firm ; I have promised to let them sit up this one night
to supper with us. Nay, don't look so serious; cast off
all uneasy thoughts. I have a present for you here ;
no matter how I came by it." At which words, she
put eight guineas into his hand, crying, " Come, my dear
Bill, be gay: Fortune will yet be kind to us: at least,
let us be happy this night. Indeed, the pleasures of
many women, during their whole lives, will not amount
to my happiness this night, if you will be in good hu-
mour."
Booth fetched a deep sigh, and cried, " How unhappy
am 1, my dear, that I can't sup with you to-night'"
As in the delightful month of June, when the sky is
all serene, and the whole face of nature looks with a
pleasing and smiling aspect, suddenly a dark cloud
spreads itself over the hemisphere, the sun vanishes
from our sight, and every object is obscured by a dark
and horrid gloom; so happened it to Amelia: the joy
that had enlightened every feature disappeared in a mo-
ment ; the lustre forsook her shining eyes ; and all the
little Loves, that played and wantoned in her cheeks,
hung their drooping heads ; and with a faint, trembling
voice, she repeated her husband's words, " Not sup with
me to-night, my dear!"'
"Indeed, my dear," answered he, "I cannot. I need
not tell you how uneasy it makes me, or that I am as
much disappointed as yourself; but I am engaged to
sup abroad. I have absolutely given my honour; and
besides, it is on business of importance."
" My dear," said she, " I say no more : I am con-
vinced you would not willingly sup from me. I own,
it is a very particular disappointment to me to-night,
when I had proposed unusual pleasure ; but the same
reason which is sufficient to you ought to be so to me."
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 479
Booth made his wife a compliment on her ready com-
pHance, and then asked her what she intended by giv-
ing him that money, or how she came by it.
"I intend, my dear," said she, "to give it you; that
is all. As to the manner in which 1 came by it, you
know, Billy, that is not very material. You are well
assured 1 got it by no means which would displease
you; and, perhaps, another time I may tell you."
Booth asked no further questions ; but he returned it
to her, and insisted on her taking all but one guinea,
saying, she was the safest treasurer.
He then promised her to make all the haste home in
his power, and he hoped, he said, to be with her in an
hour and a half at farthest, and then took his leave.
When he was gone, the poor disappointed Amelia sat
down to supper with her children, with whose company
she was forced to console herself for the absence of heV
husband.
Chapter IX.— A very tragic scene.
The clock had struck eleven, and Amelia was just pro-
ceeding to put her children to bed, when she heard a
knock at the street door: upon which the boy cried out,
"There's papa, mamma: pray, let me stay and see him
before I go to bed." This was a favour very easily ob-
tained ; for Amelia instantly ran down stairs, exulting in
the goodness of her husband for returning so soon,
though half an hour was already elapsed beyond the
time in which he promised to return.
Poor Amelia was now again disappointed ; for it was
not her husband at the door, but a servant with a letter
for him, which he delivered into her hands. She imme-
diately returned up stairs, and said, "it was not your
papa, my dear; but I hope it is one who has brought us
some good news :" for Booth had told her that he hourly
expected to receive such from the great man, and had
desired her to open any letter which came to him in his
absence.
Amelia therefore broke open the letter, and read as
follows : —
•'Sir,
" After what has passed between us, I need only tell you that I
480 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
know you supped this very night alone with Miss Matthews; a
fact which will upbraid you sufficiently, without putting me to that
trouble ; and will very well account for my desiring the favour of
seeing you to-morrow in Hyde Park, at six in the morning. You
will forgive me reminding you once more how inexcusable this be-
haviour is in you, who are possessed, m your own wife, of the most
inestimable jewel. Yours, &c.,
"T. James.
" I shall bring pistols with me."
It is not easy to describe the agitation of Amelia's
mind when she read this letter. She threw herself into
her chair, turned as pale as death, began to tremble all
over, and had just power enough left to tap the bottle of
wine, which she had hitherto preserved entire for her
husband, and to drink off a large bumper.
The little boy perceived the strange symptoms which
appeared in his mother ; and running to her, he cried,
"What's the matter, my dear mamma? you don't look
well. No harm has happened to poor papa, I hope : sure
that bad man has not carried him away again !"
Amelia answered, " No, child, nothing — nothing at
all." And then a large shower of tears came to her as-
sistance ; which presently after produced the same in
the eyes of both the children.
Amelia, after a short silence, looking tenderly at her
children, cried out, " It is too much, too much to bear.
Why did I bring these little wretches into the world 1
why were these innocents born to such a fate?" She
then threw her arms round them both, (for they were
before embracing her knees), and cried, " Oh, my chil-
dren ! my children ! forgive me, my babes ! forgive me,
that I have brought you into such a world as this. You
are undone — my children are undone !"
The little boy answered, with great spirit, " How un-
done, mamma? my sister and I don't care a farthing for
being undone. Don't cry so upon our accounts : we are
both very well ; indeed we are : but, do, pray, tell us : I
am sure some accident has happened to poor papa."
" Mention him no more," cries Amelia : " your papa is
— indeed he is a wicked man : he cares not for any of us.
Oh heavens ! is this the happiness I promised myself
this evening?" At which words she fell into an agony,
holding both her children in her arms.
The maid of the house now entered the room with
a letter in her hand, which she had received from a
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 481
porter, whose arrival the reader will not wonder to have
been unheard by Amelia in her present condition.
The maid, upon her entrance into the room, perceiv-
ing the situation of Amelia, cried out, " Good heavens !
madam, what is the matter?" Upon which, Amelia,
who had a little recovered herself after the last vent of
her passion, started up, and cried — " Nothing, Mrs. Su-
san ; nothing extraordinary. I am subject to these fits
sometimes; but I am very well now. Come, my dear
children, I am very well again; indeed I am: you must
now go to bed ; Mrs. Susan will be so good as to put you
to bed."
" But why does not papa love us ?" cries the little boy :
*' I am sure we have none of us done anything to diso-
blige him."
This innocent question of the child so stung Amelia,
that she had the utmost difficulty to prevent a relapse.
However, she took another dram of wine; for so it
might be called to her, who was the most temperate of
women, and never exceeded three glasses on any occa-
sion. In this glass she drank her children's health ; and
soon after so well soothed and composed them, that they
went quietly away with Mrs. Susan.
The maid, in the shock she had conceived at the mel-
ancholy, indeed frightful scene, which had presented it-
self to her at her first coming into the room, had quite
forgotten the letter, which she held in her hand. How-
ever, just at her departure, she recollected it, and deliv-
ered it to Amelia ; who was no sooner alone, than she
opened it, and read as follows : —
" My Dearest, sweetest Love,
"I write this from the bailiff's house, where I was formerly, and
to which 1 am again brought at the suit of that villain Trent. I have
the misfortune to think I owe this accident (1 mean, that it happened
to-night) to my own folly, in endeavouring to keep a secret from
you. Oh, my dear ! had I had resolution to confess my crime to you,
your forgiveness would, I am convinced, have cost me only a few
blushes, and I had now been happy in your arms. Fool that I was,
to leave you on such an account, and to add to a former transgres-
sion a new one : yet, by Heavens ! I mean not a transgression of the
like kind ; for of that 1 am not, nor ever will be guilty : and when
you know the true reason of my leaving you to-night, I think you
will pity rather than upbraid me. I am sure you would, if you
knew the compunction with which I left you to go to the most
worthless, the most infamous— Do guess the rest ; guess that crime
with which I cannot stain my paper ; but still believe me no more
guilty than I am : or, if it will lessen your vexation at what has be-
41 X
482 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
fallen me, believe me as guilty as you please, and think me, for a
while at least, as undeservmg of you as I think myself This paper
and pen are so bad I question whether you can read what I write ; I
almost doubt whether I wish you should. Yet this I will endeavour
to make as legible as I can. Be comforted, my dear love ; and still
keep up your spirits with the hope of better days. The doctor will
be in town to-morrow, and I trust on his goodness for my delivery
once more from this place, and that I shall soon be able to repay
him. That Heaven may bless and preserve you, is the prayer of,
my dearest love, your ever fond, aflFectionaie, and hereafter faithful
husband,
" W. Booth."
Amelia pretty well guessed the obscure meaning of
this letter, which, though at another time it might have
given her unspeakable torment, was at present rather of
the medicinal kind, and served to allay her anguish. Her
anger to Booth too began a little to abate, and was soft-
ened by her concern for his misfortune. Upon the
whole, however, she passed a miserable and sleepless
night, her gentle mind torn and distracted with various
and contending passions, distressed with doubts, and
wandering in a kind of twilight, which presented to her
only objects of different degrees of horror, and where
black despair closed, at a small distance, the gloomy
prospect.
BOOK XII.
Chapter I.— The book begins with polite history.
Before we return to the miserable couple whom we
left at the end of the last book, we will give our reader
the more cheerful view of the gay and happy family of
Colonel James.
Mrs. .Tames, when she could not, as we have seen,
prevail with Amelia to accept that invitation, which, at
the desire of the colonel, she had so kindly and obedi-
ently carried her, returned to her husband, and ac-
quainted him with the ill success of her embassy, at
which, to say the truth, she was almost as much disap-
pointed as the colonel himself; for he had not taken a
much stronger liking to Amelia than she herself had
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 483
conceived for Booth. This will account for some pas-
sages which may have a little surprised the reader in
the former chapters of this history, as we were not then
at leisure to communicate to them a hint of this kind :
it was, indeed, on Mr. Booth's account, that she had
been at the trouble of changing her dress at the masquer-
ade.
But her passions of this sort, happily for her, were
not extremely strong; she was therefore easily balked;
and as she met with no encouragement from Booth, she
soon gave way to the impetuosity of Miss Matthews;
and, from that time, scarce thought more of the affair
till her husband's design against the wife revived hers
likewise ; insomuch, that her passion was, at this time,
certainly strong enough for Booth to produce a good
hearty hatred for Amelia, whom she now abused to the
colonel in very gross terms, both on the account of her
poverty and her insolence ; for so she termed the refu-
sal of all her offers.
The colonel, seeing no hopes of soon possessing his
new mistress, began, like a prudent and wise man, to
turn his thoughts towards the securing his old one.
From what his wife had mentioned concerning the be-
haviour of the shepherdess, and particularly her prefer-
ence of Booth, he had httle doubt but that this was the
identical Miss Matthews : he resolved, therefore, to
watch her closely, in hopes of discovering Booth's in-
trigue with her. In this, besides the remainder of affec-
tion which he yet preserved for that lady, he had an-
other view, as it would give him a fair pretence to quar-
rel with Booth; who, by carrying on this intrigue, would
have broken his word and honour given to him : and he
now began to hate poor Booth heartily, from the same
reason for which Mrs. James had contracted her aver-
sion to Amelia.
The colonel therefore employed an inferior kind of
pimp to watch the lodgings of Miss Matthews, and to ac-
quaint him if Booth, whose person was known to the
pimp, made any visit there.
The pimp faithfully performed his office; and, having
last night made the wished-for discovery, immediately
acquainted his master with it.
Upon this news, the colonel presently despatched to
Booth the short note which we have before seen. He
sent it to his own house instead of Miss Matthevvs's,
X2
484 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
with hopes of that very accident which actually did hap-
pen : not that he had any ingredient of tiie bully in him,
and desired to be prevented from fighting; but with a
prospect of injuring Booth in the affection and esteem
of Amelia, and of recommending himself somewhat to
her by appearing in the light of her champion ; for which
purpose he added that compliment to Amelia in his let-
ter. He concluded, upon the whole, that if Booth him-
self opened the letter, he would certainly meet him the
next morning ; but if his wife should open it before he
came home, it might have the effects before mentioned;
and for his future expostulation with Booth, it would not
be in Amelia's power to prevent it.
Now it happened that this pimp had more masters
than one : among these was the worthy Mr. Trent, for
whom he had often done business of the pimping voca-
tion : he had been employed, indeed, in the service of
the great peer himself, under the direction of the said
Trent ; and was the very person who had assisted the
said Trent in dogging Booth and his wife to the opera-
house on the masquerade night.
This subaltern pimp was with his superior, Trent,
yesterday morning, when he found a bailiff with him, in
order to receive his instructions for the arresting Booth ;
when the baiUff said, it would be a very difficult matter
to take him ; for that, to his knowledge, he was as shy
a cock as any in England. The subaltern immediately
acquainted Trent with the business in which he was em-
ployed by the colonel : upon which Trent enjoined him,
the moment he had set him, to give immediate notice to
the bailiff, which he agreed to, and performed accordingly.
The baihff, on receiving this notice, immediately set
out for his stand at an alehouse within three doors of
Miss Matthews's lodgings ; at which, unfortunately for
poor Booth, he arrived a very few minutes before Booth
left that lady in order to return to Amelia.
These were several matters of which we thought it
necessary our reader should be informed ; for, besides
that it conduces greatly to a perfect understanding of all
history, there is no exercise of the mind of a sensible
reader more pleasant than the tracing the several small
and almost imperceptible links in every chain of events,
by which all the great actions of the world are pro-
duced. We will now, in the next chapter, proceed with
our history.
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 485
Chapter II.— In which Ameha visits her husband.
Amelia, after much anxious thinking, in which she
sometimes flattered herself that her husband was less
guilty than she had at first imagined him, and that he had
some good excuse to make for himself, (for, indeed, she
was not so able as willing to make one for him,) at
length resolved to set out for the bailiff's casile : having
therefore strictly recommended the care of her children
to her good landlady, she sent for a hackney-conch, and
ordered the coachman to drive to Gray's Inn-lane.
When she came to the house, and asked for the cap-
tain, the bailiff's wife, who came to the door, guessing,
by the greatness of her beauty, and the disorder of her
dress, that she was a young lady of pleasure, answered
surlily, " Captain 1 1 do not know of any captain that is
here, not 1 !" For this good woman was, as well as
Dame Purgante, in Prior, a bitter enemy to all , es-
pecially to those of the handsome kind ; for some such
she suspected to go shares with her in a certain prop-
erty, to which the law gave her the sole right.
Amelia replied, she was certain that Captain Booth
was there. " Well, if he is so," cries the bailiff's wife,
" you may come into the kitchen if you will, and he
shall be called down to you if you have any business
with him." At the same time, she muttered something
to herself, and concluded, a httle more intelligibly,
though still in a muttering voice, that she kept no such
house.
Amelia, whose innocence gave her no suspicion of
the true cause of this good woman's suUenness, was
frightened, and began to fear she knew not what. At
last she made a shift to totter into the kitchen, when
the mistress of the house asked her, " Well, madam,
who shall I tell the captain wants to speak with
himl"
" I ask your pardon, madam," cries Ameha ; " in my
confusion I really forgot you did not know me ; tell him,
if you please, that I am his wife."
"And are you indeed his wife, madam?" cries Mrs.
Bailiff, a little softened.
" Yes, indeed, and upon my honour," answered
Amelia.
41*
486 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
" If this be the case," cries the other, " you may walk
up stairs if you please. Heaven forbid I should part
man and wife ; indeed, I think they can never be too
much together. But 1 never will suffer any bad doings
in my house, nor any of the town ladies to come to gen-
tlemen here."
Amelia answered that she liked her the better; for,
indeed, in her present disposition, Amelia was as nmch
exasperated against wicked women as the virtuous
mistress of the house, or any other virtuous woman,
could be.
The bailiffs wife then ushered Amelia up stairs, and,
having unlocked the prisoner's doors, cried, " Captain,
here is your lady, sir, come to see you." At which
words Booth started up from his chair and caught Ame-
lia in his arms, embracing her for a considerable time
with so much rapture, that the bailiff's wife, who was an
eyewitness of this violent fondness, began to suspect
whether Amelia had really told her truth. However,
she had some little awe of the captain, and, for fear of
being in the wrong, did not interfere, but shut the door
and turned the key.
When Booth found himself alone with his wife, and
had vented the first violence of his rapture in kisses and
embraces, he looked tenderly at her, and cried, " Is it
possible, Amelia, is it possible you can have this good-
ness, to follow such a wretch as me to such a place as
this 1 Or do you come to upbraid me with my guilt,
and to sink me down to that perdition I so justly de-
serve!"
"Am I so given to upbraiding, theni" says she, in a
gentle voice ; " have I ever given you occasion to think
I would sink you to perdition]"
" Far be it from me, my love, to think so," answered
he ; " and yet you may forgive the utmost fears of
an offending, penitent sinner. 1 know, indeed, the ex-
tent of your goodness, and yet I know my guilt so
great—"
"Alas ! Mr. Booth," said she, " what guilt is this which
you mention, and which you wrote to me of last night?
Sure, by your mentioning to me so much, you intend to
tell me more, nay, indeed, to tell me all ; and not leave
my mind open to suspicions, perhaps ten times worse
than the truth."
" Will you give me a patient hearing ?" said he.
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 487
" I will indeed," answered she ; " nay, I am prepared
to hear the worst you can unfold ; nay, perhaps the worst
is short of my apprehensions."
Booth, then, after a little further apology, began, and
related to her the whole that had passed between him
and Miss Matthews, from their first meeting in the prison
to their separation the preceding evening ; all which, as
the reader knows it already, it would be tedious and un-
pardonable to transcribe from his mouth. He told her
likewise all that he had done and suffered to conceal his
transgression from her knowledge. This, he assured
her, was the business of his visit last night ; the conse-
quence of which was, he declared in the most solemn
manner, no other than an absolute quarrel with Miss
Matthews, of whom he had taken a final leave.
When he had ended his narration, Amelia, after a
short silence, answered : " Indeed, I firmly believe every
word you have said ; but I cannot now forgive you the
fault you have confessed, and my reason is, because I
have "forgiven it long ago. Here, my dear," said she,
" is an instance that I am likewise capable of keeping a
secret." She then delivered her husband a letter, which
she had some time ago received from Miss Matthews,
and which was the same which that lady had mentioned,
and supposed, as Booth had never heard of it, that it had
miscarried, for she sent it by the penny-post. In this
letter, which was signed by a feigned name, she had ac-
quainted Amelia with the infidelity of her husband, and
had, besides, very greatly abused him ; taxing him with
many falsehoods, and, among the rest, with having spoken
very shghtingly and disrespectfully of his wife.
Amelia never shined forth to Booth in so amiable and
great a light, nor did his own unworthiness ever appear
to him so mean and contemptible as at this instant.
However, when he had read the letter, he uttered many
violent protestations to her, that all which related to
herself was absolutely false.
" I am convinced it is," said she ; " I would not have
a suspicion of the contrary for the world. 1 assure you
I had, till last night revived it in my memory, almost
forgotten the letter; for, as 1 well knew from whom it
came, by her mentioning obligations which she had con-
ferred on you, and which you had more than once spoken
to me of, I made large allowances for the situation you
was then in ; and I was the more satisfied, as the letter
488 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
itself, as well as many other circumstances, convinced
me the affair was at an end."
Booth now uttered the most extravagant expressions
of admiration and fondness that his heart could dictate,
and accompanied them with the warmest embraces; all
which warmth and tenderness she returned, and tears of
love and joy gushed from both their eyes. So ravished,
indeed, were their hearts, that for some time they both
forgot the dreadful situation of their affairs.
This, however, was but a short revery. It soon re-
curred to Amelia, that though she had the liberty of
leaving that house when she pleased, she could not take
her beloved husband with her. This thought stung her
tender bosom to the quick, and she could not so far
command herself as to refrain from many sorrowful ex-
clamations against the hardship of their destiny; but
when she saw the effect they had upon Booth, she stifled
her rising grief, forced a little cheerfulness into her
countenance, and, exerting all the spirits she could raise
within herself, expressed her hopes of seeing a speedy
end to their sufferings. She then asked her husband
what she should do for him, and to whom she should
apply for his deliverance.
" You know, my dear," cries Booth, " that the doctor
is to be in town some time to-day ; my hopes of imme-
diate redemption are only in him ; and if that can be ob-
tained, I make no doubt but of the success of that affair,
which is in the hands of a gentleman who has faithfully
promised, and in whose power I am so well assured it is
to serve me."
Thus did this poor man support hopes by a depend-
ance on that ticket which he had so dearly purchased
of one, who pretended to manage the wheels in the great
state lottery of preferment; a lottery, indeed, which
has this to recommend it: that many poor wretches
feed their imaginations with the prospect of a prize du-
ring their whole lives, and never discover they have
drawn a blank.
Amelia, who was of a pretty sanguine temper, and
was entirely ignorant of these matters, was full as easy
to be deceived into hopes as her husband ; but in reality
at present she turned her eyes to no distant prospect ;
the desire of regaining her husband's liberty having eu-
grossed her whole mind.
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 489
While they were discoiirsincr on these matters they
heard a violent noise in the house, and immediately
after several persons passed by their door up stairs to
the apartment over their head. This greatly terrified
the gentle spirit of Amelia, and she cried, " Good Hea-
vens, my dear ! must I leave you in this horrid place ?
I am terrified with a thousand fears concerning you."
Booth endeavoured to comfort her, saying that he
was in no manner of danger, and that he doubted not
but that the doctor would soon be with him. " And
stay, my dear," cries he, "now I recollect, suppose you
should apply to my old friend James ; for, I believe, you
are pretty well satisfied that your apprehensions of him
were groundless. I have no reason to think but that he
would be as ready to serve me as formerly."
Amelia turned pale as ashes at the name of James;
and, instead of making a direct answer to her husband,
she laid hold of him, and cried, "My dear, I have one
favour to beg of you, and I insist on your granting it
me."
Booth readily swore he would deny her nothing.
" It is only this, my dear," said she ; " that if that
detested colonel comes, you will not see him. Let the
people of the house tell him you are not here."
" He knows nothing of my being here," answered
Booth ; " but why should I refuse to see him, if he should
be kind enough to come hither to me ? Indeed, my
Amelia, you have taken a dislike to that man without
sufficient reason."
" I speak not upon that account," cries Amelia ; " but
I have had dreams last night about you two. Perhaps
you will laugh at my foily ; but, pray, indulge it. Nay,
I insist on your promise of not denying me."
" Dreams, my dear creature V answered he. " What
dream can you have had of us 1"
" One too horrible to be mentioned," replied she : " I
cannot think of it without horror ; and unless you will
promise me not to see the colonel till I return, I posi-
tively will never leave you."
"Indeed, my Amelia," said Booth, "I never knew
you unreasonable before. How can a woman of your
sense talk of dreams]"
" Suffer me to be once at least unreasonable," said
Amelia, " as you are so good-natured to say I am not
X3
490 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
often so. Consider what I have lately suffered, and how
weak my spirits must be at this time."
As Booth was going to speak, the baihfF, without any
ceremony, entered the room, and cried, " No offence, I
hope, madam ; my wife, it seems, did not know you :
she thought the captain had a mind for a bit of flesh by-
the-by : but I have quieted all matters ; for I know you
very well. I have seen that handsome face many a time
when I have been waiting upon the captain formerly.
No offence, I hope, madam ; but if my wife was as hand-
some as you are, I should not look for worse goods
abroad."
Booth conceived some displeasure at this speech ; but
he did not think proper to express more than a pish ;
and then asked the bailiff what was the meaning of the
noise they heard just now.
" 1 know of no noise," answered the bailiff: " some
of my men have been carrying a piece of bad luggage
upstairs; a poor rascal, that resisted the law and jus-
tice ; so I gave him a cut or two with a hanger : if they
should prove mortal, he must thank himself for it. If a
man will not beiiave like a gentleman to an ofRcer, he
must take the consequence ; but I must say that for you,
captain, you behave yourself like a gentleman, and
therefore I shall always use you as such ; and I hope
you will find bail soon with all my heart. This is but a
paltry sum to what the last was ; and, I do assure you,
there is nothing else against you in the office."
The latter part of the bailiffs speech somewhat com-
forted Amelia, who had been a little frightened by the
former; and she soon after took leave of her husband
to go in quest of the doctor, who, as Amelia had heard
that morning, was expected in town that very day,
which was somewhat sooner than he had intended at
his departure.
Before she went, however, she left a strict charge
with the bailiff, who ushered her very civilly down
stairs, that if one Colonel James came there to inquire
for her husband, he should deny that he was there.
She then departed; and the bailiff immediately gave
a very strict charge to his wife, his maid, and his fol-
lowers, that if one Colonel James, or any one from hira,
should ii. quire after the captain, that they should let
him know he had the captain above stairs; for he
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 491
doubted not but that the colonel was one of Booth's
creditors, and he hoped for a second bail-bond by his
means.
Chapter III.— Containing matter pertinent to the history,
Amelia, in her way to the doctor's, determined just
to stop at her own lodgings, which lay a little out of the
road, and to pay a momentary visit to her children.
This was fortunate enough ; for, had she called at the
doctor's house, she would have heard nothing of him,
which would have caused in her some alarm and dis-
appointment ; for the doctor was set down at Mrs. At-
kinson's, where he was directed to Amelia's lodgings,
to which he went before he called at his own ; and here
Amelia now found him playing with her two children.
The doctor had been a little surprised at not finding
Amelia at home, or any one that could give an account
of her : he was now more surprised to see her come in
such a dress, and at the disorder which he very plainly
perceived in her pale and melancholy countenance. He
addressed her first, (for, indeed, she was in no great
haste to speak,) and cried, *' My dear child, what is the
matter 1 where is your husband? some mischief, I am
afraid, has happened to him in my absence."
" Oh, my dear doctor !" answered Amelia, " sure some
good angel has sent you hither. My poor Will is ar-
rested again. I left him in the most miserable condition
in the very house whence your goodness formerly re-
deemed him."
" Arrested !" cries the doctor : " then it must be for
some very inconsiderable trifle."
*' I wish it was," said Amelia; " but it is for no less
than fifty pounds."
" Then," cries the doctor, " he has been disingenuous
with me. He told me he did not owe ten pounds in the
world, for which he was liable to be sued."
"I know not what to say," cries Amelia: "indeed, I
am afraid to tell you the truth."
" How, child ?" said the doctor : " I hope you will
never disguise it to any one, especially to me. Any
prevarication, I promise you, will forfeit my friendship
for ever."
492 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
" I will tell you the whole,'* cries Amelia, " and rely
entirely on your goodness." She then related the ga-
ming story, not forgetting to set in the fullest light, and
to lay the strongest emphasis on his promise never to
play again.
The doctor fetched a deep sigh when he had heard
Amelia's relation, and cried, " I am sorry, child, for the
share you are to partake in your husband's sufferings ;
but as for him, I really think he deserves no compassion.
You say he has promised never to play again : but, I
must tell you, he has broken his promise to me already;
for I had heard he was formerly addicted to this vice,
and had given him sufficient caution against it. You
will consider, child, I am already pretty largely engaged
for him, every farthhig of which I am sensible I must
pay. You know I would go to the utmost verge of pru-
dence to serve you ; but 1 must not exceed my ability,
which is not very great ; and I have several families on
my hands, who are by misfortune alone brought to want.
1 do assure you I cannot at present answer for such a
sum as this, without distressing my own circumstances."
" Then Heaven have mercy upon us all !" cries Amelia,
" for we have no other friend on earth. My husband
is undone ; and these poor little wretches must be
starved."
The doctor cast his eyes on the children, and then
cried, " 1 hope not so. I told you I must distress my
circumstances, and I will distress them this once, on
your account, and on the account of these poor little
babes: but things must not go on any longer in this
way ; you must take an heroic resolution. 1 will hire
a coach for you to-morrow morning, which shall carry
you all down to my parsonage-house : there you shall
have my protection till something can be done for your
husband ; of which, to be plain with you, I at present
see no likelihood."
Amelia fell upon her knees in an ecstasy of thanks-
giving to the doctor, who immediately raised her up, and
placed her in her chair. She then recollected herself,
and said, '' Oh, my worthy friend ! I have still another
matter to mention to you, in which I must have both
your advice and assistance. My soul blushes to give
you all this trouble ; but what other friend have 1 1 in-
deed, what other friend could I apply to so properly on
such an occasion V
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 493
The doctor, with a very kind voice and countenance,
desired her to speak. 8he then said, '' Oh, sir ! that
wicked colonel, whom I have mentioned to you for-
merly, has picked some quarrel with my husband, (for
she did not think proper to mention the cause,) and has
sent him a challenge. It came to my hand last night
after he was arrested : I opened it, and read it."
" Give it me, child," said the doctor.
She answered she had burnt it ; as was indeed true.
" But I remember it was an appointment to meet with
sword and pistol this morning at Hyde Park."
" Make yourself easy, my dear child," cries the doc-
tor : " I will take care to prevent any mischief."
" But consider, my dear sir," said she, " this is a ten-
der matter: my husband's honour is to be preserved as
well as his life."
" And so is his soul, which ought to be the dearest of
all things," cries the doctor. "Honour! nonsense!
Can honour dictate to him to disobey the express com-
mands of his Maker, in compliance with a custom es-
tablished by a set of blockheads, founded on false princi-
ples of virtue, in direct opposition to the plain and posi-
tive precepts of religion, and tending manifestly to give
a sanction to ruffians, and to protect them in all the
ways of impudence and villany ]"
" All this, I believe, is very true," cries Amelia; " but
yet you know, doctor, the opinion of the world."
" You talk simply, child," cries the doctor. " What is
the opinion of the world, opposed to religion and virtue ?
But you are in the wrong : it is not the opinion of the
world ; it is the opinion of the idle, ignorant, and profli-
gate : it is impossible it should be the opinion of one man
of sense, who is in earnest in his belief of our religion.
Chiefly, indeed, it has been upheld by the nonsense of
women ; who, either from their extreme cowardice and
desire of protection, or, as Mr. Bayle thinks, from their
excessive vanity, have been always forward to counte-
nance a set of hectors and bravoes, and to despise all
men of modesty and sobriety ; though these are often,
at the bottom, not only the better, but the braver men."
" You know, doctor," cries Amelia, " I have never pre-
sumed to argue with you : your opinion is to me always
instruction, and your word a law."
" Indeed, child," cries the doctor, " I know you are a
good woman ; and yet I must observe to you, that this
42
494 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
very desire of feeding the passion of female vanity with
the heroism of her man, old Homer seems to make the
characteristic of a bad and loose woman. He intro-
duces Helen upbraiding her gallant with having quitted
the fight, and left the victory to Menelaus ; and seeming
to be sorry that she had left her husband, only because
he was the better duellist of the two : but in how differ-
ent a light does he represent the tender and chaste love
of Andromache to her worthy Hector ! she dissuades
him from exposing himself to danger, even in a just
cause. This is indeed a weakness; but it is an amiable
one, and becoming the true feminine character : but a
woman, who, out of heroic vanity, (for so it is), would
hazard, not only thp life, but the soul too of her husband
in a duel, is a monster, and ought to be painted in no
other character but that of a Fury."
"I assure you, doctor," cries Amelia, "I never saw
this matter in the odious light in which you have truly
represented it, before. I am ashamed to recollect what
I have formerly said on this subject. And yet, while
the opinion of the world is as it is, one would wish to
comply as far as possible, especially as my husband is
an officer of the army. If it can be done, therefore, with
safety to his honour — "
"Again honour]" cries the doctor: "indeed, I will
not suffer that noble word to be so basely and barbar-
ously prostituted. I have known some of these men of
honour, as they call themselves, to be the most arrant
rascals in the universe."
" Weil, I ask your pardon," said she : " reputation,
then, if you please, or any other word you like better :
you know my meaning very well."
" I do know your meaning," cries the doctor ; " and
Virgil knew it a great while ago. The next time you
see your friend Mrs. Atkinson, ask her what it was
made Dido fall in love with JEneas."
" Nay, dear sir," said Amelia, " do not rally me so un-
mercifully : think where my poor husband is now."
" He is," answered the doctor, " where I will present-
ly be with him. In the mean time, do you pack up
everything in order for your journey to-morrow ; for if
you are wise, you will not trust your husband a day
longer in this town ; therefore to packing."
Amelia promised she would, though, indeed, she
wanted not any warning for her journey on this occa-
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 495
sion; for, when she had packed up herself in the coach,
she packed up her all. However, she did not think prop-
er to mention this to the doctor; for, as he was now in
pretty good humour, she did not care to venture again
discomposing his temper.
The doctor then set out for Gray's Inn-lane ; and, as
soon as he was gone, Amelia began to consider of her
incapacity to take a journey in her present situation,
without even a clean shift. At last, she resolved, as she
was possessed of seven guineas and a half, to go to her
friend, and redeem some of her own and her husband's
linen out of captivity ; indeed, just so much as would
render it barely possible for them to go out of town with
any kind of decency : and this resolution she immedi-
ately executed.
As soon as she had finished her business with the
pawnbroker, (if a man who lends under thirty per cent,
deserves that name,) he said to her, '* Pray, madam, did
you know that man who was here yesterday when you
brought the pictured" Amelia answered in the nega-
tive. "Indeed, madam," said the broker, "he knows
you, though he did not recollect you while you was
here, as your hood was drawn over your face ; but the
moment you was gone he begged to look at the picture,
which I, thinking no harm, permitted. He had scarce
looked upon it, when he cried out, ' By heaven and
earth, it is her picture !' He then asked me if I knew
you ; ' Indeed,' says I, ' I never saw the lady before.' "
In this last particular, however, the pawnbroker a lit-
tle savoured of his profession, and made a small devia-
tion from the truth; for, when the man had asked him
if he knew the lady, he answered, she was some poor
undone woman, who had pawned all her clothes to him
the day before ; " and I suppose," says he, " this pic-
ture is the last of her goods and chattels." This hint
we thought proper to give the reader, as it may chance
to be material.
Ameha answered coldly, that she had taken so very
little notice of the man, that she scarce remembered he
was there.
" I assure you, madam," says the pawnbroker, " he
has taken very great notice of you ; for the man changed
countenance upon what I said, and presently after
begged me to give him a dram. Oho! thinks I to
myself, are you thereabout ] I would not be so much
496 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
in love with some folks as some people are, for more
interest than I shall ever make on a thousand pounds."
Amelia blushed, and said, with some peevishness, that
she knew nothing' of the man; but supposed he was
some impertinent fellow or other.
"Nay, madam," answered the pawnbroker, "I assure
you he is not worthy your regard : he is a poor wretch,
and I believe I am possessed of most of his moveables.
However, I hope you are not offended ; for, indeed, he
said no harm ; but he was very strangely disordered, that
is the truth of it."
Amelia was very desirous of putting an end to this
conversation, and altogether as eager to return to her
children : she therefore bundled up her things as fast as
she could, and calling for a hackney-coach, directed the
coachman to her lodgings, and bid him drive her home
with all the haste he could.
Chapter IV. — In which Dr. Harrison visits Colonel James.
The doctor, when he left Amelia, intended to go di-
rectly to Booth ; but he presently changed his mjnd, and
determined first to call on the colonel; as he thought it
was proper to put an end to that matter before he gave
Booth his liberty.
The doctor found the two colonels, James and Bath,
together. They both received him very civilly : for
James was a very well bred man ; and Bath always
showed a particular respect to the clergy, he being, in-
deed, a perfect good Christian, except in the articles of
fighting and swearing.
Our divine sat some time without mentioning the sub-
ject of his errand, in hopes that Bath would go away ;
but when he found no likelihood of that, (for indeed Bath
was, of the two, much the most pleased with his com-
pany,) he told James that he had something to say to
him relating to Mr. Booth, which he believed he might
speak before his brother.
" Undoubtedly, sir," said James ; " for there can
be no secrets between us which my brother may not
hear."
" I come then to you, sir," said the doctor, " from the
most unhappy woman in the world, to whose afflictions
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 497
you have greatly and very cruelly added, by sendin"^ a
challenge to her husband, which has very luckily fallen
into her hands ; for had the man for whom you de-
signed it received it, I am afraid you would not have
seen me upon this occasion."
*' If I wrote such a letter to Mr. Booth, sir," said
James, " you may be assured I did not expect this visit
in answer to it."
" I do not think you did," cries the doctor; *' but you
have great reason to thank Heaven for ordering this
matter contrary to your expectations. I know not what
trifle may have drawn this challenge from you ; but after
what I have some reason to know of you, sir, I must
plainly tell you, that if you had added to your guilt
already committed against this man that of having his
blood upon your hands, your soul would have become as
black as hell itself."
" Give me leave to say," cries the colonel, " this is a
language which I am not used to hear; and if your cloth
was not your protection, you should not give it me with
impunity. After what you know of me, sir 1 What do
you presume to know of me to my disadvantage ]"
• " You say my cloth is my protection, colonel," an-
swered the doctor ; " therefore, pray lay aside your an-
ger : I do not come with any design of affronting or of-
fending you."
" Very well," cries Bath ; " that declaration is suffi-
cient from a clergyman, let him say what he pleases."
^' Indeed, sir," says the doctor, very mildly, " I con-
sult equally the good of you both, and, in a spiritual
sense, more especially yours ; for you know you have
injured this poor man."
" So far on the contrary," cries James, " that I have
been his greatest benefactor. I scorn to upbraid him;
but you force me to it : nor have I ever done him the
least injury."
" Perhaps not," said the doctor ; " I will alter what I
have said. But for this I apply to your honour. Have
you not intended him an injury, the very intention of
which cancels every obligation?"
"How, sir?" answered the colonel: "What do you
mean?"
" My meaning," replied the doctor, " is almost too
tender to mention. Come, colonel, examine your own
lieart ; and then answer me, on your honour, if you have
43*
498 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
not intended to do him the highest wrong which one
man can do another."
" I do not know what you mean by the question," an-
swered the colonel.
" D — n me, the question is very transparent," cries
Bath : " from any other man it would be an affront with
the strongest emphasis ; but from one of the doctor's
cloth, it demands a categorical answer."
" I am not a papist, sir," answered Colonel James,
" nor am I obliged to confess to my priest. But if you
have anything to say, speak openly, for 1 do not under-
stand your meaning."
" I have explained my meaning to you already," said
the doctor, " in a letter I wrote to you on the subject ;
a subject which 1 am sorry I should have any occasion
to write upon to a Christian."
" I do remember, now," cries the colonel, "that I re-
ceived a very impertinent letter, something like a ser-
mon, against adultery; but I did not expect to hear the
author own it to my face."
" That brave man then, sir," answered the doctor,
" stands before you, who dares own he wrote that let-
ter, and dares affirm, too, that it was written on a just
and strong foundation. But if the hardness of your
heart could prevail on you to treat my good intention
with contempt and scorn, what, pray, could induce you
to show it, nay, to give it Mr. Booth 1 What motive
could you have for that, unless you meant to insult him,
and to p.rovoke your rival to give you that opportunity
of putting him out of the world, which you have since
wickedly sought by your challenge !"
"I give him the letter?" said the colonel.
"Yes, sir," answered the doctor : " he showed me the
letter, and affirmed that you gave it him at the masquer-
ade."
" He is a lying rascal then," said the colonel, very
passionately: " I scarce took the trouble of reading the
letter, and lost it out of my pocket."
Here Bath interfered, and explained this affair in the
manner in u'hich it happened, and with which the reader
is already acquainted. He concluded by great eulogi-
ums on the performance, and declared it was one of the
most enthusiastic (meaning perhaps ecclesiastic) letters
that ever was written. " And d — n me," says he, " if I
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 499
do not respect the author with the utmost emphasis of
thinking."
The doctor now recollected what had passed with
Booth, and perceived that he had made a mistake of one
colonel for another. This he presently acknowledged
to Colonel James, and said that the mistake had been
his, and not Booth's.
Bath now collected all his gravity and dignity, as he
called it, into his countenance ; and, addressing himself
to James, said, " And was that letter written to you,
brother 1 I hope you never deserved any suspicion of
this kind."
"Brother," cries James, " I am accountable to myself
for my actions, and shall not render an account either to
you or to that gentleman."
"As to me, brother," answered Bath, "you say right;
but 1 think this gentleman may call you to an account ;
nay, I think it is his duty so to do. And let me tell you,
brother, there is one much greater than he to whom
you must give an account. Mrs. Booth is really a fine
woman, a lady of most imperious and majestic presence.
I have heard you often say that you liked her; and
if you have quarrelled with her husband upon this ac-
count, by all the dignity of man, I think you ought to
ask his pardon."
" Indeed, brother," cries James, " I can bear this no
longer : you will make me angry presently."
" Angry, brother James !" cries Bath, " angry ! I
love you, brother, and have obligations to you. I will
say no more ; but I hope you know I do not fear making
any man angry."
James answered, he knew it well ; and then the doc-
tor, apprehending that while he was stopping up one
breach he should make another, presently interfered,
and turned the discourse back to Booth. " You tell me,
sir," said he to James, " that my gown is my protection ;
let it then, at least, protect me where I have had no design
in offending; where I have consulted your highest wel-
fare, as in truth I did in writing this letter: and, if you
did not in the least deserve any such suspicion, still you
have no cause for resentment. Caution against sin,
even to the innocent, can never be unwholesome. But
this I assure you : whatever anger you have to me, you
can have none to poor Booth, who was entirely ignorant
of my writing to you, and who, I am certain, never en-
600 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
tertained the least suspicion of you ; on the contrary,
reveres you with the highest esteem, and love, and
gratitude. Let me, therefore, reconcile all matters be-
tween you, and bring you together before he has even
heard of this challenge."
" Brother," cries Bath, " I hope I shall not make you
angry : I lie when 1 say so ; for I am indifferent to any
man's anger. Let me be an accessary to what the doc-
tor has said. I think I may be trusted with matters of
this nature ; and it is a little unkind, that, if you intended
to send a challenge, you did not make me the bearer ;
but, indeed, as to what appears to me, this matter may
be very well made up ; and as Mr. Booth does not know
of the challenge, I don^t see why he ever should, any
more than your giving him the lie just now ; but that he
shall never have from me, nor, I believe, from this gen-
tleman ; for, indeed, if he should, it would be incumbent
upon him to cut your throat."
" Lookee, doctor," said James, " I do not deserve the
unkind suspicion you just now threw out against me. I
never thirsted after any man's blood ; and as for what
has passed, since this discovery has happened, I may,
perhaps, not think it worth my while to trouble myself
any more about it."
The doctor was not contented with this perhaps ; he
insisted on a firm promise, to be bound with the colonel's
honour : this, at length, he obtained, and then departed
well satisfied.
In fact, the colonel was ashamed to avow the real
cause of the quarrel to this good man, or, indeed, to his
brother Bath, who would not only have condemned him
equally with the doctor, but would possibly have quar-
relled with him on his sister's account, whom, as the
reader must have observed, he loved above all things ;
and, in plain truth, though the colonel was a brave man,
and dared to fight, yet he was altogether as willing to let
it alone ; and this made him now and then give a little
way to the wrongheadedness of Colonel Bath, who, with
all the other principles of honour and humanity, made
no more of cutting the throat of a man, upon any of his
punctilios, than a butcher does of killing sheep.
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 501
Chapter V.— What passed at the bailiff's house.
The doctor now set forward to his friend Booth ; and
as he passed by the door of his attorney in the way, he
called upon him, and took him with him.
The meeting: between him and Booth need not be ex-
patiated on. The doctor was really angry ; and though
he deferred his lecture to a more proper opportunity,
yet, as he was no dissembler, (indeed, he was incapable
of any disguise,) he could not put on a show of that
heartiness with which he had formerly used to receive
his friend.
Booth, at last, began himself in the following manner :
" Doctor, I am really ashamed to see you ; and if you
knew the confusion of my soul on this occasion, I am
sure you would pity rather than upbraid me : and yet
I can say, with great sincerity, 1 rejoice in this last
instance of my shame, since I am like to reap the
most solid advantage from it." The doctor stared at
this, and Booth thus proceeded : " Since I have been
in this wretched place, I have employed my time
almost entirely in reading over a series of sermons
which are contained in that book, (meaning Dr. Barrow's
works, which then lay on the table before him), in
proof of the Christian religion; and so good an effect
have they had upon me, that I shall, I believe, be the
better man for them as long as 1 live. I have not a
doubt (for I own I have had such) which remains now
imsatisfied. If ever an angel might be thought to euide
the pen of a writer, surely the pen of that great and
good man had such an assistant." The doctor readily
concurred in the praises of Dr. Barrow ; and added,
" You say you have had your doubts, young gentleman ;
indeed, I did not know that : and, pray, what were your
doubts'?" "Whatever they were, sir," said Booth,
" they are now satisfied, as I believe those of every im-
partial and sensible reader will be, if he will, with due
attention, read over these excellent sermons." " Very
well," answered the doctor ; " though I have conversed,
I find, with a false brother hitherto, I am glad you are
reconciled to truth at last; and I hope your future faith
will have some influence on your future life." " I need
not tell you, sir," replied Booth, " that will always be
502 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
the case, where faith is sincere, as I assure you mine
is. Indeed, 1 never was a rash disbeliever ; my chief
doubt was founded on this; that as men appeared to me
to act entirely from their passions, their actions could
have neither merit nor demerit." " A very worthy con-
clusion, truly," cries the doctor : " but if men act, as I
believe they do, from their passions, it would be fair to
conclude that religion to be true, which applies immedi-
ately to the strongest of these passions, hope and fear ;
choosing rather to rely on its rewards and punishments,
than on that native beauty of virtue, which some of the
ancient philosophers thought proper to recommend to
their disciples. But we will defer this discourse till an-
other opportunity : at present, as the devil has thought
proper to set you free, I will try if I can prevail on the
bailiff to do the same."
The doctor had not really so much money in town as
Booth's debt amounted to ; and therefore, though he
would otherwise very willingly have paid it, he was
forced to give bail for the action : for which purpose, as
the bailiff was a man of great form, he was obliged to get
another person to be bound with him. This person,
however, the attorney undertook to procure, and imme-
diately set out in quest of him.
During his absence the bailiff came into the room, and,
addressing himself to the doctor, said, *' I think, sir, your
name is Doctor Harrison." The doctor immediately ac-
knowledged his name: indeed, the bailiff had seen it to
a bail-bond before. " Why then, sir," said the bailiff,
" there is a man above, in a dying condition, that desires
the favour of speaking to you : 1 believe he wants you to
pray by him."
The bailiff himself was not more ready to execute his
office on all occasions for his fee, than the doctor was
to execute his for nothing : without making any further
inquiry, therefore, into the condition of the man, he im-
mediately went up stairs.
As soon as the bailiff returned down stairs, which was
immediately after he had lodged the doctor in the room,
Booth had the curiosity to ask him who this man was.
*' Why, I don't know much of him," said the bailiff: " I
had him once in custody before now ; I remember it was
when your honour was here last ; and now, I remember
too, he said that he knew your honour very well. Indeed,
I had some opinion of him at that time; for he spent his
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 503
money very much like a gentleman : but I have dis-
covered since that he is a poor fellow, and worth noth-
ing. He is a mere shy cock ; I have had the stuff about
me this week, and could never get at him till this morn-
ing; nay, I don't believe we should ever have found out
his lodgings, had it not been for the attorney that was
here just now, who gave us information ; and so we took
him this morning by a comical way enough ; for we
dressed up one of my men in women's clothes, who told
the people of the house that he was hjs sister, just come
to town ; for we vvere told by the attorney he had such
a sister ; upon which he was let up stairs ; and so kept
the door ajar till I and another rushed in. Let me tell
you, captain, there are as good stratagems made use of
in our business as any in the army."
" But, pray, sir," said Booth, " did not you tell me this
morning that the poor fellow was desperately wounded?
nay, I think you told the doctor that he was a dying
man."
" I had like to have forgotten that," cries the bailiflf.
" Nothing would serve the gentleman but that he must
make resistance, and he gave my man a blow with a
stick ; but I soon quieted him by giving him a wipe or
two with a hanger; not that I believe I have done his
business, neither ; but the fellow is fainthearted ; and the
surgeon, I fancy, frightens him more than he need. But,
however, let the worst come to the worst, the law is all
on my side, and it is only sefendendo. The attorney that
was here just now told me so, and bid me fear nothing;
for that he would stand my friend, and undertake the
cause ; and he is a devilish good one at a defence at
the Old Bailey, I promise you. I have known him bring
off several, that everybody thought would have been
hanged."
*' But suppose you should be acquitted," said Booth ;
*' would not the blood of this poor wretch lie a little
heavy at your heart ?"
*' Why should it, captain V said the bailiff: *' is it not
all done in a lawful way 1 Why will people resist the
law, when they know the consequence ! To be sure,
if a man was to kill another, in an unlawful manner as it
were, and what the law calls murder, that is quite and
clear another thing. I should not care to be convicted
of murder, any more than another man. Why now,
captain, you have been abroad in the wars, they tell me,
504 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
and, to be sure, must have killed men in your time. Pray,
was you ever afraid afterward of seeing their ghosts ?"
" Tliat is a different affair," cries Booth ; " but I would
not kill a man in cold blood for all the world."
" There is no difference at all, as I can see," cries the
bailiff; "one is as much in the w^ay of business as the
other. When gentlemen behave themselves Uke unto
gentlemen, I knoAV how to treat them as such, as well
as any officer the king has : and when they do not, why,
they must take what follows, and the law does not call
it murder."
Booth very plainly saw that the baihff had squared his
conscience exactly according to law, and that he could
not easily subvert his way of thinking. He therefore
gave up the cause, and desired the bailiff to expedite the
bonds, which he promised to do, saying, he hoped he had
used him with proper civility this time, if he had not the
last ; and that he should be remembered for it.
But before we close this chapter, we shall endeavour
to satisfy an inquiry which may arise in our most fa-
vourite readers, (for so are the most curious,) how it came
to pass that such a person as Doctor Harrison should
employ such a fellow as this Murphy.
The case then was thus. This Murphy had been clerk
to an attorney, in the very same town in which the doc-
tor lived : and when he was out of his time, had set up
with a character fair enough, and had married a maid-
servant of Mrs. Harris, by which means he had all the
business to which the lady and her friends, in which
number was the doctor, could recommend him.
Murphy went on with his business, and thrived very
well, till he happened to make an unfortunate slip, in
w^hich he was detected by a brother of the same calling:
but though we call this by the gentle name of a slip, in
respect to its being so extremely common, it was a
matter in w^hich the law, if it had ever come to its ears,
would have passed a very severe censure; being, indeed,
no less than perjury, and'subornation of perjury.
This brother attorney, being a very good-natured man,
and unwilling to bespatter his own profession, and con-
sidering, perhaps, that the consequence did in nowise
affect the public, who had no manner of interest in the
alternative, whether A, in whom the right was, or B, to
whom Mr. Murphy, by the means aforesaid, had trans-
ferred it, succeeded in an action, (we mention this
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA 505
particular, because, as this brother attorney was a very
violent party man, and a professed stickler for the pub-
lic, to suffer any injury to have been done to that would
have been highly inconsistent with his principles,) this
gentleman, therefore, came to Mr. Murphy; and after
showing him that he had it in his power to convict him
of the aforesaid crime, very generously told him that he
had not the least delight in bringing any man to destruction,
nor the least animosity against him : all that he insisted
upon was, that he would not live in the same town or
country with one who had been guilty of such an action.
He then told Mr. Murphy that he would keep the secret
on two conditions : the one was, that he immediately
quitted that country; the other was, that he should con-
vince him he deserved this kindness by his gratitude ;
and that Murphy should transfer to the other all the
business which he then had in those parts, and to which
he could possibly recommend him.
It is the observation of a very wise man, that it is a
very common exercise of wisdom in this world, of two
evils to choose the least. The reader, therefore, cannot
doubt but Mr. Murphy complied with the alternative
proposed by his kind brother, and accepted the terms
on which secrecy was to be obtained.
This happened while the doctor was abroad; and
with all this, except the departure of Murphy, not only
the doctor, but the whole town, save his aforesaid
brother alone, were to this day unacquainted.
The doctor, at his return, hearing that Mr. Murphy
was gone, applied to the other attorney in his affairs,
who still employed this Murphy as his agent in town,
partly, perhaps, out of good-will to him, and partly
from the recommendation of Mrs. Harris; for, as he
had married a servant of the family, and a particular
favourite of hers, there can be no wonder that she, who
was entirely ignorant of the affair above related, as well
as of his conduct in town, should continue her favour
to him. It will appear, therefore, I apprehend, no
longer strange, that the doctor, who had seen this man
but three times since his removal to town, and then
conversed with him only on business, should remain as
ignorant of his life and character, as a man generally is
of the character of the hackney-coachman who drives
him. Nor does it reflect more on the honour or under-
standing of the doctor, under these circumstances, to
43 Y
506 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
employ Murphy, than it would if he had been driven
about the town by a thief or a murderer.
Chapter VI. — What passed between the doctor and the sick man.
We left the doctor in the last chapter with the
wounded man, to whom the doctor, in a very gentle
voice, spoke as follows : —
** I am sorry, friend, to see you in this situation, and
am very ready to give you any comfort or assistance
within my power."
" I thank you kindly, doctor," said the man ; " indeed,
I should not have presumed to have sent to you, had I
not known your character : for though I believe I am
not at all known to you, I have lived many years in that
town where you yourself had a house. My name is
Robinson ; I used to write for the attorneys in those
parts, and I have been employed on your business in
my time."
" I do not recollect you, nor your name," said the
doctor ; " but consider, friend, your moments are pre-
cious, and your business, as I am informed, is to offer
up your prayers to that great Being, before whom you
are shortly to appear. But, first, let me exhort you
earnestly to a most serious repentance of all your sins."
" Oh, doctor," said the man, " pray, what is your
opinion of a death-bed repentance V
"If repentance is sincere," cries the doctor, "I hope,
through the mercies and merits of our most powerful
and benign Intercessor, it will never come too late."
" But do not you think, sir," cries the man, " that, in
order to obtain forgiveness of any great sin we have
committed, by an injury done to our neighbours, it is
necessary, as far as in us hes, to make all the amends
we can to the party injured, and to undo, if possible,
the injury we have done V
" Most undoubtedly," cries the doctor; " our pretence
to repentance would otherwise be gross hypocrisy, and
an impudent attempt to deceive and impose upon our
Creator himself."
" Indeed, I am of the same opinion," cries the peni-
tent ; " and I think further, that this is thrown in my
way, and hinted to me by that great Being ;^for an ac-
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 507
cident happened to me yesterday, by wliich, as things
have fallen out since, I think I plainly discern the hand
of Providence. I went yesterday, sir, you must know,
to a pawnbroker's to pawn the last moveable which,
except the poor clothes you see on my back, I am worth
in the world. While I was there, a young lady came
in to pawn her picture. She had disguised herself so
much, and pulled her hood so over her face, that I did
not know her while she stayed, which was scarce three
minutes. As soon as she was gone, the pawnbroker,
taking the picture in his hand, cried out, ' Upon my word,
this is the handsomest face I ever saw in my life.' I
desired him to let me look on the picture, which he
readily did ; and I no sooner cast my eyes upon it, than
the strong resemblance struck me, and I knew it to be
Mrs. Booth."
" Mrs. Booth! what Mrs. Booth 1" cries the doctor.
" Captain Booth's lady ; the captain who is now be-
low," said the other.
" How !" cries the doctor, with great impetuosity.
" Have patience," said the man, " and you shall hear
all. I expressed some surprise to the pawnbroker, and
asked the lady's name. He answered, that he knew
not her name; but that she was some undone wretch,
who had the day before left all her clothes with him in
pawn. My guilt immediately flew in my face, and told
me I had been accessary to this lady's undoing. The
sudden shock so affected me, that, had it not been for a
dram which the pawnbroker gave me, I believe I
should have sunk on the spot."
"Accessary to her undoing! how accessary?" said
the doctor. " Pray, tell me, for I am impatient to hear."
*'I will tell you all as fast as I can," cries the sick
man. "You know, good doctor, that Mrs. Harris of
our town had two daughters, this Mrs. Booth and an-
other. Now, sir, it seems the other daughter had,
some way or other, disobliged her mother, a little be-
fore the old lady died : therefore she made a will, and
left all her fortune, except one thousand pounds, to
Mrs. Booth ; to which will Mr. Murphy, myself, and
another, who is now dead, were the witnesses. Mrs.
Harris afterward died suddenly; upon which it was
contrived by her other daughter and Mr. INlurphy to
make a new will, in which Mrs. Booth had a legacy of
ten pounds, and all the rest was given to the other. To
3
508 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
this will, Murphy, myself, and the same third person
again set our hands."
" Good Heaven! how wonderful is thy providence !"
cries the doctor. " Murphy, say you'?"
*' He himself, sir," answered Robinson ; " Murphy,
who is the greatest rogue, I believe, now in the world."
" Pray, sir, proceed," cries the doctor.
" For this service, sir," said Robinson, " myself and
the third person, one Carter, received two hundred
pounds each. What reward Murphy himself had, I
know not. Carter died soon afterward ; and from
that time, at several payments, 1 have by threats ex-
torted above a hundred pounds more. And this, sir,
is the whole truth, which I am ready to testify, if it
would please Heaven to prolong my hfe."
" 1 hope it will," cries the doctor ; " but something
must be done for fear of accidents ; I will send to coun-
sel immediately to know how to secure your testimony.
"Whom can I get to send 1 Stay, ay, he will do ; but I
know not where his house or his chambers are ; I will
go myself; but I may be wanted here."
While the doctor was in this violent agitation, the
surgeon made his appearance. The doctor stood still
in a meditating posture, while the surgeon examined his
patient ; after which, the doctor begged him to declare
his opinion, and whether he thought the wounded man
in any immediate danger of death. " I do not know,"
answered the surgeon, " what you call immediate. He
may live several days ; nay, he may recover. It is im-
possible to give any certain opinion in these cases."
He then launched forth into a set of terms, which the
doctor, with all his scholarship, could not understand :
to say the truth, many of them were not to be found in
any dictionary or lexicon.
One discovery, however, the doctor made ; and that
was, that the surgeon was a ver}" ignorant, conceited
fellow, and knew nothing of his profession. He resolved,
therefore, to get better advice for the sick, but this he
postponed at present; and, applying himself to the sur-
geon, said he should be very much obliged to him if he
knew where to find such a counsellor, and would fetch
him thither. " I should not ask such a favour of you,
sir," says the doctor, " if it was not on business of the
last importance, or if I could find any other messenger."
" I fetch, sir ?" says the surgeon, very angrily : " do
. /Kf
r-5
f/ // //,
//,r,a.
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 509
you take me for a footman or a porter ? I don't know
who you are ; but I believe you are full as proper to go
on such an errand as 1 am :" for as the doctor, who was
just come off his journey, was very roughly dressed, the
surgeon held him in no great respect. The surgeon
then called aloud from the top of the stairs, " Let my
coachman draw up,'' and strutted off without any cere-
mony, telling his patient he would call again the next day.
At this very instant arrived Murphy with the other
bail ; and, finding Booth alone, he asked the bailiff at the
door what was become of the doctor. " Why, the
doctor," answered he, " is above stairs, praying with — "
"How!" cries Murphy: "how came you not to carry
him directly to Newgate, as you promised me V " Why,
because he was wounded," cries the bailiff: " I thought
it was charity to take care of him ; and, besides, why
should one make more noise about the matter than is
necessary ?" " And Doctor Harrison with him ?" said
Murphy. "Yes, he is," said the bailiff; " he desired to
speak with the doctor very much, and they have been
praying together almost this hour." " All is up and un-
done," cries Murphy : " let me come by ; I have thought
of something which I must do immediately."
Now, as by means of the surgeon's leaving the door
open the doctor heard Murphy's voice naming Robinson
peevishly, he drew softly to the top of the stairs, where
he heard the foregoing dialogue ; and as soon as Murphy
had uttered his last words, and was moving downward,
the doctor immediately sallied from his post, running as
fast as he could, and crying, " Stop the villain, stop the
thief !"
The attorney wanted no better hint to accelerate his
pace ; and, having the start of the doctor, got down
stairs, and out into the street ; but the doctor was close
at his heels, and being in foot the nimbler of the two,
he soon overtook him, and laid hold of him, as he would
have done on either Broughton or Slack in the same
cause.
This action in the street, accompanied with the fre-
quent cry of " Stop thief" by the doctor, during the chase,
presently drew together a large mob, who began, as is
usual, to enter immediately upon business, and to make
strict inquiry into the matter, in order to proceed to do
justice in their summary way.
Murphy, who knew well the temper of the mob, cried
43*
SlO THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
out, " If you are a bailiff, show me your writ. Gentle-
men, he pretends to arrest me here without a writ."
Upon this, one of the sturdiest and forwardest of the
mob, and who, by a superior strength of body and of
lungs, presided in this assembly, declared he would suf-
fer no such thing. " D — n me," says he, " away to the
pump with the catchpole directly ; show me your writ,
or let the gentleman go : you shall not arrest a man con-
trary to law."
He then laid his hands on the doctor, who, still fast
griping the attorney, cried out, " He is a villain. I am
no bailiff, but a clergyman; and this lawyer is guilty of
forgery, and has ruined a poor family."
" How !" cries the spokesman : " a lawyer? that alters
the case."
" Yes, faith," cries another of the mob, " it is Lawyer
Murphy. I know him very well."
" And has he ruined a poor family ? like enough, faith,
if he's a lawyer. Away with him to the justice imme-
diately."
The bailiff now came up, desiring to know what was
the matter ; to whom Doctor Harrison answered, that he
had arrested that villain for forgery. "How can you
arrest him V cries the bailiff: " you are no officer, nor
have any warrant. Mr. Murphy is a gentleman, and he
shall be used as such."
" Nay, to be sure," cries the spokesman, " there ought
to be a warrant ; that's the truth on't."
" There needs no warrant," cries the doctor : " I ac-
cuse him of felony : and 1 know so much of the law of
England, that any man may arrest a felon, without any
warrant whatever. This villain has undone a poor
family ; and I will die on the spot before I part with
him."
" If the law be so," cries the orator, " that is another
matter ; and, to be sure, to ruin a poor man is the great-
est of sins ; and being a lawyer too makes it so much the
worse. He shall go before the justice, d—n me, if he
sha'n't go before the justice. 1 says the word, he shall."
" I say he is a gentleman, and shall be used according
to law," cries the bailiff; " and though you are a clergy-
man," said he to Harrison, " you don't show yourself as
one by your actions."
" That's a bailiff," cries one of the mob ; " one lawyer
will always stand by another ; but I think the clergyman
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 611
is a very good man, and acts becoming a clergyman, to
stand by the poor."
At which words the mob all gave a great shout, and
several cried out, " Bring him along; away with him to
the justice."
And now a constable appeared, and, with an authori-
tative voice, declared what he was, produced his staff, and
demanded the peace.
The doctor then delivered his prisoner over to the
officer, and charged him with felony ; the constable re-
ceived him ; the attorney submitted ; the bailiff was
hushed; and the waves of the mob immediately sub-
sided.
The doctor now balanced with himself how he should
proceed : at last, he determined to leave Booth a little
longer in captivity, and not quit sight of iMurphy before
he had lodged him safe with a magistrate. They then
all moved forward to the justice; the constable and his
prisoner marching first, the doctor and the bailiff follow-
ing next, and about five thousand mob (for no less number
were assembled in a very few minutes) following in the
procession.
They found the magistrate just sitting down to his
dinner: however, when he was acquainted with the doc-
tor's profession, he immediately admitted him, and heard
his business ; which he no sooner perfectly understood,
with all its circumstances, than he resolved, though it
was then very late, and he had been fatigued all the
morning with public business, to postpone all refresh-
ment till he had discharged his duty. He accordingly
adjourned the prisoner and his cause to the bailiffs
house, whither he himself, with the doctor, immediately
repaired, and whither the attorney was followed by a
much larger number of attendants than he had been
honoured with before.
Chapter VI. — In ^vhich the history draws towards a conclusion.
Nothing could exceed the astonishment of Booth at
the behaviour of the doctor, at the time when he salHed
forth in pursuit of the attorney ; for which it was so im-
possible for him to account in any manner whatever.
He remained a long time in the utmost torture of mind,
512 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
till at last the bailiff's wife came to him, and asked him
if the doctor was not a madman ; and, in truth, he could
hardly defend him from that imputation.
While he was in this perplexity, the maid of the house
brought him a message from Robinson, desiring the fa-
vour of seeing him above stairs. With this he immedi-
ately complied.
When these two were alone together, and the key
turned on them, (for the bailiff's wife was a most careful
person, and never omitted that ceremony in the absence
of her husband, having always at her tongue's end that
excellent proverb of Safe bind safe find,) Robinson, look-
ing steadfastly upon Booth, said, " 1 believe, sir, you
scarce remember me."
Booth answered, that he thought he had seen his face
somewhere before, but could not then recollect when
or where.
"Indeed, sir," answered the man, "it was a place
which no man can remember with pleasure. But do
you not remember, a few weeks ago, that you had the
misfortune to be in a certain prison in this town, where
you lost a trifling sum at cards to a fellow-prisoner 1"
This hint sufficiently awakened Booth's memory, and
he now recollected the features of his old friend Rob-
inson. He answered him, a little surlily, " I know you
now very well ; but I did not imagine you would ever
have reminded me of that transaction."
" Alas, sir !" answered Robinson, " whatever hap-
pened then was very trifling, compared to the injuries I
have done you ; but, if my Ufe be spared long enough, I
will now undo it all ; and, as I have been one of your
worst enemies, I will now be one of your best friends."
He was just entering upon his story, when a noise
was heard below, which might be almost compared to
what has been heard in Holland when the dikes have
given way, and the ocean in an inundation breaks in
upon the land. It seemed, indeed, as if the whole world
was bursting into the house at once.
Booth was a man of great firmness of mind, and he
had need of it all at this instant. As for poor Robin-
son, the usual concomitants of guilt attended him, and
he began to tremble in a violent manner.
The first person who ascended the stairs was the
doctor, who no sooner saw Booth, than he ran to him,
.rid embraced him, crying, " My child, I wish you joy
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 513
with all my heart : your sufferings are all at an end ;
and Providence has done you the justice at last, which
it will, one day or other, render to all men. You will
hear all presently ; but I can now only tell you that
your sister is discovered, and the estate is your own."
Booth was in such confusion, that he scarce made
any answer ; and now appeared the justice and his clerk,
and immediately afterward the constable with his pris-
oner, the bailiff, and as many more as could possibly
crowd up stairs.
The doctor now addressed himself to the sick man,
and desired him to repeat the same information before
the justice which he had made already ; to which Rob-
inson readily consented.
While the clerk was taking down the information, the
attorney expressed a very impatient desire to send in-
stantly for his clerk ; and expressed so much uneasi-
ness at the confusion in which he had left his papers at
home, that a thought suggested itself to the doctor,
that if his house was searched, some liglits and evi-
dence relating to this affair would certainly be found:
he therefore desired the justice to grant a search-war-
rant immediately to search his house.
The justice answered, that he had no such power;
that if there was any suspicion of stolen goods, he
could grant a warrant to search for them.
" How, sir!" said the doctor: "can you grant a war-
rant to search a man's house for a silver tea-spoon and
not in a case hke this, where a man is robbed of his
whole estate ?"
" Hold, sir," says the sick man ; " I believe I can
answer that point ; for I can swear he has several title-
deeds of the estate now in his possession, which 1 am
sure were stolen from the right owner."
The justice still hesitated. He said title-deeds sa-
voured of the reality, and it was not felony to steal
them. If, indeed, they were taken away in a box, then
it would be felony to steal the box.
" Savour of the reality ! Savour of the reality !"
said the doctor: "I never heard such incomprehensible
nonsense. This is impudent, as well as childish trifluig
with the lives and properties of men."
" Well, sir," said Robinson, " I now am sure I can do his
business ; for I know he has a silver cup in his posses-
sion which is the property of this gentleman ; (meaning
V3
514 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
Booth ;) and how he got it but by stealth, let him account
if he can."
" That will do," cries the justice, with great pleasure :
" that will do ; and if you will charge him on oath with
that, I will instantly grant my warrant to search his
house for it." " And I will go and see it executed,"
cries the doctor; for it was a maxim of his, that no
man could descend below himself in doing any act
which may contribute to protect an innocent person, or
to bring a rogue to the gallows.
The oath was instantly taken, the warrant signed, and
the doctor attended the constable in the execution of it.
The clerk then proceeded in taking the information
of Robinson, and had just finished it, when the doctor
returned with the utmost joy in his countenance, and
declared that he had sufficient evidence of the fact in
his possession. He had, indeed, two or three letters
from Miss Harris, in answer to the attorney's frequent
demands of money, for secrecy, that fully explained the
whole villany.
The justice now asked the prisoner what he had to
say for himself, or whether he chose to say anything in
his own defence.
" Sir," said the attorney, with great confidence, " I
am not to defend myself here ; it will be of no service
to me ; for 1 know you neither can nor will discharge
me : but I am extremely innocent of all this matter, as
I doubt not but to make appear to the satisfaction of a
court of justice."
The legal previous ceremonies were then gone
through of binding over the prosecutor, &c., and then
the attorney was committed to Newgate, whither he
was escorted, amid the acclamations of the populace.
When Murphy was departed, and a little calm restored
in the house, the justice made his compliments of con-
gratulation to Booth, who, as well as he could in his
present tumult of joy, returned his thanks to both the
magistrate and the doctor. They were now all preparing
to depart, when Mr. Bondum stepped up to Booth, and
said, "Hold, sir, you have forgotten one thing; you
have not given bail yet."
This occasioned some distress at this time, for the at-
torney's friend was departed ; but when the justice heard
this, he immediately offered himself as the other bonds-
man, and thus ended the affair.
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 515
It was now past six o'clock and none of the gentlemen
had yet dined ; ihey very readily, therefore, accepted
the magistrate's invitation, and went all togetlier to his
house.
And now the very first thing that was done, even
before they sat down to dinner, was to despatch a mes-
senger to one of the best surgeons in town, to take care
of Robinson, and another messenger to Booth's lodg-
ings, to prevent Amelia's concern at their staying so
long.
The latter, however, was to little purpose, for Amelia's
patience had been worn out before ; and she had taken
a hackney-coach and driven to the bailiffs, where she
arrived a little after the departure of her husband, and
was thence directed to the justice's.
Though there was no kind of reason for Amelia's
fright at hearing that her husband and Doctor Harrison
were gone before the justice, and though she indeed
imagined that they were there in the light of complain-
ants, not offenders, yet so tender were her fears for her
husband, and so much had her gentle spirits been lately
agitated, that she had a thousand apprehensions of she
knew not what. When she arrived, therefore, at the
house, she ran directly into the room where all the com-
pany were at dinner, scarce knowing what she did or
whither she was going.
She found her husband in such a situation, and dis-
covered such cheerfulness in his countenance, that so
violent a turn was given to her spirits, that she was just
able, with the assistance of a glass of water, to support
herself. She soon, however, recovered her calmness,
and in a little time began to eat what might indeed be al-
most called her breakfast.
The justice now wished her joy of what had happened
that day; for which she kindly thanked him, apprehend-
ing he meant the liberty of her husband. His worship
might perhaps have explained himself more largely, had
not the doctor given him a timely wink ; for this wise
and good man was fearful of making such a discovery
all at once to Amelia, lest it should overpower her ;
and luckily the justice's wife was not well enough ac-
quainted with the matter to say anything more on it,
than barely to assure the lady that she joined in her
husband's congratulation.
Amelia was then in a clean white gown, which she
616 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
had that day redeemed, and was, indeed, dressed all
over with great neatness and exactness : with the glow,
therefore, which arose in her features from finding her
husband released from his captivity, she made so charm-
ing a figure, that she attracted the eyes of the magis-
trate and of his wife ; and they both agreed, when they
were alone, that they had never seen so charming a
creature ; nay, Booth himself afterward told her that
he scarce ever remembered her to look so extremely
beautiful as she did that evening.
Whether Amelia's beauty, or the reflection on the re-
markable act of justice he had performed, or whatever
motive filled the magistrate with extraordinary good-
humour, and opened his heart and cellars, I will not de-
termine ; but he gave them so hearty a welcome, and
they were all so pleased with each other, that Amelia,
for that one night, trusted the care of her children to the
woman where they lodged, nor did the company rise
from table till the clock struck eleven.
They then separated. Amelia and Booth, having
been set down at their lodgings, retired into each other's
arms ; nor did Booth that evening, by the doctor's ad-
vice, mention one word of the grand affair to his wife.
Chapter VIII. — This history draws nearer to a conclusion.
In the morning early Amelia received the following
letter from Mrs. Atkinson : —
"The surgeon of the regiment to which the captain, my husband,
lately belonged, and who came this evening to see the captain, has
almost frightened me out of my wits, by a strange story of your hus-
band being committed to prison by a justice of peace, for forgery.
For Heaven's sake, send me the truth ! If my husband can be of
any service, weak as he is, he will be carried in a chair to serve a
brother officer, for whom he has a regard which I need not mention ;
or, if the sum of twenty pounds will be of any service to you, 1 will
wait upon you with it the moment I can get my clothes on, the morn-
ing you receive this ; for it is too late to send to-night. The captain
begs his hearty service and respects ; and believe me, dear madam,
your ever affectionate friend and humble servant,
" F. Atkinson."
When Amelia read this letter to Booth, they were
both equally surprised ; she at the commitment for for-
gery, and he at seeing such a letter from Mrs. Atkinson;
THE HISTORY OP AMELIA. 517
for he was a stranger yet to the reconciliation that had
happened.
Booth's doubts were first satisfied by Ameha, from
which he received great pleasure ; for he really had a
very great affection and fondness for Mr. Atkinson, who,
indeed, so well deserved it. " Well, my dear," said he
10 Ameha, smiling, "shall we accept this generous
oflfer ?"
" Oh fy ! no, certainly," answered she.
" Why not V cries Booth : " it is but a trifle ; and yet
it will be of great service to us."
"But consider, my dear," said she, "how ill these
poor people can spare it."
"They can spare it for a little while," said Booth;
" and we shall soon pay it them again."
"When, my dearV said Ameha. "Do, my dear
Will, consider our wretched circumstances. I beg you,
let us go into the country immediately, and live upon
bread and water, till Fortune pleases to smile upon us."
" I am convinced that day is not far off," said Booth.
"However, give me leave to send an answer to Mrs.
Atkinson, that we shall be glad of her company imme-
diately to breakfast."
" You know I never contradict you," said she ; " but
I assure you it is contrary to my inclinations to take
this money."
" Well, suffer me," cries he, " to act this once con-
trary to your inchnations." He then wrote a short
note to Mrs. Atkinson, and despatched it away immedi-
ately; which, when he had done, Amelia said, " I shall
be glad of Mrs. Atkinson's company to breakfast ; but
yet I wish you would oblige me in refusing this money.
Take five guineas only : that is indeed such a sum as,
if we never should pay it, would sit light on our mind.
The last persons in the world from whom I would re-
ceive favours of that sort are the poor and generous."
" You can receive favours only from the generous,"
cries Booth : " and, to be plain with you, there are very
few who are generous that are not poor."
" What think you," said she, " of Doctor Harrison ?"
"I do assure you," said Booth," he is far from being
rich. The doctor has an income of little more than six
hundred pounds a year, and I am convinced he gives
away four of it. Indeed, he is one of the best econo-
mists in the world ; but yet I am positive he never was
44
518 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
at any time possessed of five hundred pounds since he
has been a man. Consider, dear Emily, the late obliga-
tions we have to this gentleman : it would be unreason-
able to expect more, at least at present ; my half-pay
is mortgaged for a year to come. How, then, shall we
live ?"
" By our labour," answered she : "I am able to la-
bour, and I am sure I am not ashamed of it."
" And do you really think you can support such a life ]"
" I am sure I could be happy in it," answered Amelia.
" And why not I as well as a thousand others, who have
not the happiness of such a husband to make life deli-
cious 1 Why should I complain of my hard fate, while
so many, who are much poorer than I, enjoy theirs?
Am I of a superior rank or being to the wife of the honest
labourer? Am I not partaker of one common nature
with her 1"
" My angel," cries Booth, " it delights me to hear you
talk thus, and for a reason you httle guess ; for I am as-
sured that one who can heroically endure adversity, will
bear prosperity with equal greatness of soul ; for the
mind that cannot be dejected by the former is not likely
to be transported with the latter."
" If it had pleased Heaven," cried she, " to have tried
me, I think, at least I hope, I should have preserved my
humility."
" Then, my dear," said he, " I will relate you a dream
I had last night : you know you lately mentioned a
dream of yours."
" Do so," said she : " I am attentive."
" I dreamed," said he, " this night that we were in the
most miserable situation imaginable ; indeed, in the sit-
uation we were yesterday morning, or rather worse;
that I was laid in a prison for debt, and that you wanted
a morsel of bread to feed the mouths of your hungry
children. At length, (for nothing you know is quicker
than the transition in dreams,) Doctor Harrison methought
came to me, with cheerfulness and joy in his counte-
nance ; the prison doors immediately flew open ; and
Doctor Harrison introduced you, gayly, though not
richly dressed : that you gently chid me for staying so
long. All on a sudden appeared a coach with four horses
to it, in which was a maid-servant with our two chil-
dren : we both immediately went into the coach ; and,
taking our leave of the doctor, set out towards your
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 519
country-house ; for yours I dreamed it was. I only ask
you now, if this was real, and the transition almost as
sudden, could you support it]"
Amelia was going to answer, when Mrs. Atkinson
came into the room, and, after very little previous cere-
mony, presented Booth with a bank-note, which he re-
ceived of her, saying he would very soon repay it; a
promise that a little offended Amelia, as she thought he
had no chance of keeping it.
The doctor presently arrived, and the company sat
down to breakfast ; during which Mrs. Atkinson enter-
tained them with the history of the doctors that had at-
tended her husband, by whose advice Atkinson was re-
covered from everything but the weakness which his
distemper had occasioned.
When the tea-table was removed. Booth told the doc-
tor that he had acquainted his wife with a dream he
had last night. " I dreamed, doctor," said he, " that she
was restored to her estate."
" Very well," said the doctor ; " and if I am to be the
Oneiropolist, I believe the dream will come to pass. To
say the truth, I have rather a better opinion of dreams
than Horace had. Old Homer says they come from Ju-
piter ; and as to your dream, 1 have often had it in my
waking thoughts, that some time or other that roguery,
for so 1 was always convinced it was, would be brought
to light ; for the same Homer says, as you, madam,
(meaning Mrs. Atkinson,) very well know —
^"E'lrep ydp re Kai aiinV ^OX^finios ovk iri'Xccraev,
"Kk ts Koi oxj.i TS^eV avv re //£yaX(j) airfriaav,
Jliiv a^mi KC(pa\fici, yvvai^l re, Kai rsKuaoiv.^ "*
" 1 have no Greek ears, sir," said Mrs. Atkinson: "I
believe I could understand it in the Delphin Homer."
" I wish," cries he, "my dear child, (to Amelia,) you
would read a little in the Delphin Aristotle, or else in
some Christian divine, to learn a doctrine which you
will one day have a use for ; I mean, to bear the hardest
of all human conflicts; and to support with an even
temper, and without any violent transports of mind, a
sudden gust of prosperity."
" Indeed," cries Amelia, " I should almost think my
* If Jupiter does not immediately execute his vengeance, he will,
however, execute it at last ; and their transgressions shall fall heav-
ily on their own heads, and on their wives and children.
520 THE HISTORY OP AMELIA.
husband and you, doctor, had some very good news to
tell me, by your using, both of you, the same introduc-
tion. As far as I know myself, 1 think I can answer, I
can support any degree of prosperity, and 1 think 1 yes-
terday showed I could ; for, I do assure you, it is not in
the power of Fortune to try me with such another trans-
ition from grief to joy, as I conceived from seeing my
husband in prison and at Uberty."
" Well, you are a good girl," cries the doctor; "and
after 1 have put on my spectacles, I will try you."
The doctor then took out a newspaper, and read as
follows : —
" * Yesterday one Murphy, an eminent attorney at law,
was committed to Newgate for the forgery of a will,
under which an estate had been for many years detained
from the right owner.'
" Now in this paragraph there is something very re-
markable, and that is, that it is true : but opus est expla-
natum. In the Delphin edition of this newspaper, there
is the following note upon the words right owner: —
* The right owner of this estate is a young lady of the
highest merit, whose maiden name was Harris ; and
who, some time since, was married to an idle fellow,
one Lieutenant Booth : and the best historians assure
us that letters from the elder sister of this lady, which
manifestly prove the forgery, and clear up the whole af-
fair, are in the hands of an old parson, called Doctor
Harrison.' "
" And is this really true V cries Amelia.
" Yes, really and sincerely," cries the doctor ; " the
whole estate ; for your mother left it you all ; and it is
as surely yours as if you was already in possession."
" Gracious Heaven !" cries she, falling on her knees,
" I thank you." And then starting up, she ran to her
husband, and, embracing him, cried, " My dear love, I
wish you joy ; and I ought, in gratitude, to wish it you,
for you are the cause of mine. It is upon yours and my
children's account that I principally rejoice."
Mrs. Atkinson rose from her chair, and jumped about
the room for joy, repeating,
Turne, quod optanti Divoim promittere nemo
Auderet, volvenda dies, en, aitulit ultro.*
* What none of all the gods could grant thy vows,
That, Tumus, this auspicious day bestows.
THE HISTORY OP AMfiLTA. 521
Amelia now threw herself into a chair, complained
she was a httle faint, and begged a glass of water. The
doctor advised her to be blooded ; but she refused, say-
ing, she required a vent of another kind. She then de-
sired her children lo be brought to her, whom she im-
mediately caught in her arms; and, having profusely
cried over them for several minutes, declared she was
easy ; after which, she soon regained her usual temper
and complexion.
That day they dined together, and in the afternoon
they all, except the doctor, visited Captain Atkinson :
he repaired to the bailiff's house to visit the sick man,
whom he found very cheerful, the surgeon having as-
sured him that he was in no danger.
The doctor had a long spiritual discourse with Robin-
son, who assured him that he sincerely repented of his
past life, that he was resolved to lead his future days in
a different manner, and to make what amends he could
for his sins to society, by bringing one of the greatest
rogues in it to justice. There was a circumstance which
much pleased the doctor, and made him conclude that,
however Robinson had been corrupted by his old master,
he had naturally a good disposition ; this was, that Rob-
inson declared he was chiefly induced to the discovery
by what had happened at the pawnbroker's, and by the
miseries which he there perceived he had been instru-
mental in bringing on Booth and his family.
The next day Booth and his wife, at the doctor's in-
stance, dined with Colonel James and his lady, where
they were received with great civility ; and all matters
were accommodated, without Booth ever knowing a
syllable of the challenge even to this day.
The doctor insisted very strongly on having Miss
Harris taken into custody, and said, if she was his sister
he would deliver her to justice. He added besides, that
it was impossible to screen her and carry on the prose-
cution, or, indeed, recover the estate. Amelia at last
begged the delay of one day only, in which time she
wrote a letter to her sister, informinir her of the dis-
covery, and the danger in which she stood ; and begged
her earnestly to make her escape, with many assurances
that she would never suffer her to know any distress.
This letter she sent away express, and it had the desired
effect ; for Miss Harris, having received sufficient infor-
mation from the attorney to the same purpose, immedi-
44*
522 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
ately set out for Poole, and from thence to France, car-
rying with her all her money, most of her clothes, and
some few jewels. She had, indeed, packed up plate and
jewels to tlie value of two thousand pounds and upwards ;
but Booth, to whom Amelia communicated the letter,
prevented her, by ordering the man that went with the
express (who had been a sergeant of the foot guards,
recommended to him by Atkinson) to suffer the lady to
go whither she pleased, but not to take anything with her
except her clothes, which he was carefully to search.
These orders were obeyed punctually, and with these
she was obliged to comply.
Two days after the bird was flown, a warrant from the
lord chief justice arrived to take her up; the messenger
of which returned with the news of her flight, highly to
the satisfaction of Amelia, and consequently of Booth;
and, indeed, not greatly to the grief of the doctor.
About a week afterward, Booth and Ameha, with their
children, and Captain Atkinson and his lady, all set for-
ward together for Ameha's house, where they arrived
amid the acclamations of all the neighbours, and every
pubUc demonstration of joy.
They found the house ready prepared to receive theni a
by Atkinson's friend, the old sergeant, and a good din- %l
ner prepared for them by Amelia's old nurse, who was
addressed with the utmost duty by her son and daughter,
most aff'ectionately caressed by Booth and his wife, and
by Amelia's absolute conmiand seated next to herself at
the table ; at which, perhaps, were assembled some of
the best and happiest people then in the world.
Chapter IX. — In which the history is concluded.
Having brought our history to a conclusion, as to those
points in which we presume our reader was chiefly in-
terested, in the foregoing chapter, we shall, in this, by
way of epilogue, endeavour to satisfy his curiosity as to
what has happened to the principal personages of whom
we have treated in the foregoing pages.
Colonel James and his lady, after living in a polite
manner for many years together, at last agreed to live
in as polite a manner asunder. The colonel has kept
Miss Matthews ever since, and is at length grown
\
THE HISTORY OF AMELIA. 523
\i) dote on her (though now very disagreeable in her
person, and immensely fat) to such a degree, that he
submits to be treated by her in the most tyrannical
manner.
He allows his lady eight hundred pounds a year : with
which she divides her time between Tunbridge, Bath,
and London, and passes about nine hours in the twenty-
four at cards. Her income is lately increased by three
thousand pounds left her by her brother, Colonel Bath,
who was killed in a duel about six years ago by a gen-
tleman who told the colonel he differed from him in
opinion.
The noble peer and Mrs. Ellison have been both dead
several years, and both of the consequences of their
favourite vices ; Mrs. Ellison having fallen a martyr to
her liquor, and the other to his amours, by which he was
at last become so rotten that he stank above ground.
The attorney, Murphy, was brought to his trial at the
Old Bailey ; where, after much quibbling about the mean-
ing of a very plain act of parliament, he was at length
convicted of forgery, and was soon afterward hanged at
Tyburn.
The witness for some time seemed to reform his life,
and received a small pension from Booth ; after which
he returned to vicious courses, took a purse on the
highway, was detected and taken, and followed the steps
of his old master. So apt are men, whose manners have
been once thoroughly corrupted, to return from any dawn
of amendment into the dark paths of vice.
As to Miss Harris, she lived three years with a broken
heart at Boulogne, where she received annually fifty
pounds from her sister, who was hardly prevailed on by
Dr. Harrison not to send her a hundred ; and then died
in a most miserable manner.
Mr. Atkinson, upon the whole, has led a very happy life
with his wife, though he has been sometimes obliged to
pay proper homage to her superior understanding and
knowledge ; this, however, he cheerfully submits to, and
she makes him proper returns of fondness. They have
two fine boys, of whom they are equally fond. He is
lately advanced to the rank of captain ; and last summer
both he and his wife paid a visit of three months to Booth
and his wife.
Dr. Harrison is grown old in years and in honour ; be-
loved and respected by all his parishioners and by all his
524 THE HISTORY OF AMELIA.
neighbours. He divides his time between his parish, his
old town, and Booth's; at which last place he had, two
years ago, a gentle fit of the gout, being the first attack
of that distemper. During this fit Amelia was his nurse,
and her two elder daughters sat up alternately with him
for a whole week. The eldest of those girls, whose
name is Amelia, is his favourite : she is the picture of
her mother ; and it is thought the doctor has distin-
guished her in his will ; for he has declared that he will
leave his whole fortune, except some few charities,
among Amelia's children.
As to Booth and Amelia, Fortune seems to have made
them large amends for the tricks she played them in
their youth. They have, ever since the above period of
this history, enjoyed an uninterrupted course of health
and happiness. In about six weeks after Booth's first
coming into the country, he went to London, and paid all
his debts of honour ; after which, and a stay of two days
only, he returned into the country, and has never since
been thirty miles from home. He has two boys and
four girls ; the eldest of the boys, he who has made his
appearance in this history, is just come from the univer-
sity, and is one of the finest gentlemen and best scholars
of his age. The second is just going from school, and is
intended for the church, that being his own choice. His
eldest daughter is a woman grown, but we must not
mention her age. A marriage was proposed to her the
other day with a young fellow of a good estate, but she
never would see him more than once ; " for Doctor Har-
rison," says she, *' told me he was illiterate, and I am
sure he is ill-natured." The second girl is three years
younger than her sister, and the others are yet children.
Amelia is still the finest woman in England of her
age : Booth himself often avers she is as handsome as
ever. Nothing can equal the serenity of their lives.
Amelia declared to me the other day, that she did not
remember to have seen her husband out of humour these
ten years ; and upon my insinuating to her that he had
the best of wives, she answered with a smile, that she
ought to be so, for that he had made her the happiest of
women.
THE END.
\
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