We accepted his invitation, and set out for his villa, where we had not been longer than an hour, when the person arrived in whose favour I had been so much prepossessed. He was a tall man, remarkably well shaped, of a fine mien and appearance, commanding respect, and seemed to be turned of forty; the features of his face were saddened with a reserve and gravity, which in other countries would have been thought the effect of melancholy; but here appeared to have been contracted by his commerce with the Spaniards, who are remarkable for that severity of countenance. Understanding from Don Antonio that we were his countrymen, he saluted us all round very complacently, and fixing his eyes attentively on me, uttered a deep sigh. I had been struck with a profound veneration for him at his first coming into the room; and no sooner observed this expression of his sorrow, directed, as it were, in a particular manner to me, that my heart took part in his grief; I sympathised involuntarily and sighed in my turn. Having asked leave of our entertainer, he accosted us in English, professed his satisfaction at seeing so many of his countrymen in such a remote place, and asked the captain, who went by the name of Signor Thoma, from what part of Britain he had sailed and whither he was bound. My uncle told him that we had sailed from the River Thames, and were bound for the same place by the way of Jamaica, where we intended to take in a lading of sugar.


Having satisfied himself in these and other particulars about the state of the war, he gave us to understand, that he had a longing desire to revisit his native country, in consequence of which he had already transmitted to Europe the greatest part of his fortune in neutral bottoms, and would willingly embark the rest of it with himself in our ship, provided the captain had no objection to such a passenger. My uncle very prudently replied, that for his part he should be glad of his company, if he could procure the consent of the governor, without which he durst not take him on board, whatever inclination he had to oblige him. The gentleman approved of his discretion, and telling him that there would be no difficulty in obtaining the connivance of the governor, who was his good friend, shifted the conversation to another subject.


I was overjoyed to hear his intention, and already interested myself so much in his favour that, had he been disappointed, I should have been very unhappy. In the course of our entertainment, he eyed me with uncommon attachment, I felt a surprising attraction towards him; when he spoke, I listened with attention and reverence; the dignity of his deportment filled me with affection and awe; and, in short, the emotions of my soul, in presence of this stranger, were strong and unaccountable.


Having spent the best part of the day with us, he took his leave, telling Captain Thoma, that he should hear from him in a short time. He was no sooner gone than I asked a thousand questions about him of Don Antonio, who could give me no other satisfaction than that his name was Don Rodrigo, that he had lived fifteen or sixteen years in these parts, was reputed rich, and supposed to have been unfortunate in his younger years, because he was observed to nourish a pensive melancholy, even from the time of his first settlement among them; but that nobody had ventured to inquire into the cause of his sorrow, in consideration of his peace, which might suffer in the recapitulation of his misfortunes.


I was seized with an irresistible desire of knowing the particulars of his fate, and enjoyed not an hour of repose during the whole night, by reason of the eager conceptions that inspired me with regard to his story, which I resolved (if possible) to learn. Next morning, while we were at breakfast, three mules, richly caparisoned, arrived with a message from Don Rodrigo, desiring our company, and that of Don Antonio, at his house, which was situated about ten miles further up in the country. I was pleased with this invitation, in consequence of which we mounted the mules which he had provided for us, and alighted at his house before noon. Here we were splendidly entertained by the generous stranger, who still seemed to show a particular regard for me, and after dinner made me a present of a ring, set with a beautiful amethyst, the production of that country, saying, at the same time, that he was once blessed with a son, who, had he lived, would have been nearly of my age. This observation, delivered with a profound sigh, made my heart throb with violence: a crowd of confused ideas rushed upon my imagination, which, while I endeavoured to unravel, my uncle perceived my absence of thought, and tapping me on the shoulder, said, "Oons, are you asleep, Rory?" Before I had time to reply, Don Rodrigo, with uncommon eagerness of voice and look, pronounced, "Pray, captain, what is the young gentleman's name?" "His name," said my uncle, "is Roderick Random." "Gracious Powers!" cried the stranger, starting up—"And his mother's?" "His mother," answered the captain, amazed, "was called Charlotte Bowling." "O bounteous Heaven!" exclaimed Don Rodrigo, springing across the table, and clasping me in his arms, "my son! my son! have I found thee again? do I hold thee in my embrace, after having lost and despaired of seeing thee so long?" So saying, he fell upon my neck, and wept aloud with joy; while the power of nature operating strongly in my breast. I was lost in rapture, and while he pressed me to his heart, let fall a shower of tears in his bosom. His utterance was choked up a good while by the agitation of his soul; at length he broke out into "Mysterious Providence!—O my dear Charlotte, there yet remains a pledge of our love! and such a pledge!—so found! O infinite Goodness, let me adore thy all-wise decrees!" Having thus expressed himself, he kneeled upon the floor, lifted up his eyes and hands to heaven, and remained some minutes in silent ecstacy of devotion. I put myself in the same posture, adored the all-good Dispenser in a prayer of mental thanksgiving: and when his ejaculation was ended, did homage to my father, and craved his paternal blessing. He hugged me again with unutterable fondness, and having implored the protection of Heaven upon my head, raised me from the ground, and presented me as his son to the company, who wept in concert over this affecting scene. Among the rest, my uncle did not fail to discover the goodness and joy of his heart. Albeit unused to the melting mood, he blubbered with great tenderness, and wringing my father's hand, cried, "Brother Random, I'm rejoiced to see you—God be praised for this happy meeting!" Don Rodrigo, understanding that he was his brother-in-law, embraced him affectionately, saying, "Are you my Charlotte's brother? Alas! unhappy Charlotte! but why should I repine? we shall meet again, never more to part! Brother, you are truly welcome. Dear son, I am transported with unspeakable joy! This day is a jubilee—my friends and servants shall share my satisfaction."


While he dispatched messengers to the gentlemen in the neighbourhood, to announce this event, and gave orders for a grand entertainment, I was so much affected with the tumults of passion, which assailed me on this great, sudden, and unexpected occasion, that I fell sick, fevered, and in less than three hours became quite delirious: so that the preparations were countermanded, and the joy of the family converted into grief and despair. Physicians were instantly called, I was plentifully blooded in the foot, my lower extremities were bathed in a decoction of salutiferous herbs: in ten hours after I was taken ill I enjoyed a critical sweat, and next day felt the remains of the distemper, but an agreeable lassitude, which did not hinder me from getting up. During the progress of this fever, which, from the term or its duration, is called ephemera, my father never once quitted my bedside, but administered the prescriptions of the physicians with the most pious care; while Captain Bowling manifested his concern by the like attendance. I no sooner found myself delivered from this disease, than I bethought myself of my honest friend Strap; and resolving to make him happy forthwith in the knowledge of my good fortune, told my father in general, that I had been infinitely obliged to this faithful adherent, and begged he would indulge me so far as to send for him, without letting him know my happiness, until he could receive an account of it from my own mouth.


My request was instantly complied with, and a messenger with a spare mule despatched to the ship, carrying orders from the captain to the mate, to send the steward by the bearer. My health being, in the meantime, re-established, and my mind composed I began to relish this important turn of my fortune, in reflecting upon the advantages with which it must be attended; and, as the idea of my lovely Narcissa always joined itself to every scene of happiness I could imagine, I entertained myself now with the prospect of possessing her in that distinguished sphere to which she was entitled by her birth and qualifications. Having often mentioned her name while I was deprived of my senses, my father guessed that there was an intimate connection between us, and discovering the picture which hung in my bosom by ribbon, did not doubt that it was the resemblance of my amiable mistress. In this belief he was confirmed by my uncle, who told him that it was the picture of a young woman, to whom I was under promise of marriage. Alarmed at this piece of information, Don Rodrigo took the first opportunity of questioning me about the particulars of this affair, which when I had candidly recounted, he approved of my passion, and promised to contribute all in his power towards its success. Though I never doubted his generosity, I was transported on this occasion, and throwing myself at his feet, told him, he had now completed my happiness, for, without the possession of Narcissa I should be miserable among all the pleasures of life. He raised me with a smile of paternal fondness; said he knew what it was to be in love; and observed that, if he had been as tenderly beloved by his father as I was by mine, he should not now perhaps have cause—here he was interrupted by a sigh, the tear rushed into his eye, suppressed the dictates of his grief, and the time being opportune, desired me to relate the passages of my life, which my uncle had told him were manifold and surprising. I recounted the most material circumstances of my fortune, to which he listened with wonder and attention, manifesting from time to time the different emotions which my different situations may be supposed to have raised in a parent's breast; and, when my detail was ended, blessed God for the adversity I had undergone, which, he said, enlarged the understanding, improved the heart, steeled the constitution, and qualified a young man for all the duties and enjoyments of life much better than any education which affluence could bestow.


When I had thus satisfied his curiosity, I discovered an inclination to hear the particulars of his story, which he gratified by beginning with his marriage, and proceeded to the day of his disappearing, as I have related in the first part of my memoirs. "Careless of life," continued he, "and unable to live in a place where every object recalled the memory of my dear Charlotte, whom I had lost through the barbarity of an unnatural parent, I took my leave of you, my child, then an infant, with a heart full of unutterable woe, but little suspecting that my father's unkindness would have descended to my innocent orphan; and setting out alone at midnight for the nearest seaport, early next morning got on board a ship, bound, as I had heard, for France; and, bargaining with the master for my passage, bade a long adieu to my native country, and put to sea with the first fair wind. The place of our destination was Granville, but we had the misfortune to run upon a ridge of rocks near the Island of Alderney, called the Caskets, where the sea running high, the ship went to pieces, the boat sunk alongside, and every soul on board perished, except myself, who, by the assistance of a grating got ashore on the coast of Normandy. I went directly to Caen, where I was so lucky as to meet with a count, whom I had formerly known in my travels; with this gentleman I set out for Paris, where I was recommended by him and other friends, as tutor to a young nobleman, whom I accompanied to the court of Spain. There we remained a whole year, at the end of which my pupil being recalled by his father, I quitted my office, and stayed behind, by the advice of a certain Spanish grandee, who took me into his protection, and introduced me to another nobleman, who was afterwards created viceroy of Peru. He insisted on my attending, him to his government of the Indies, where, however, by reason of my religion, it was not in his power to make my fortune any other way than by encouraging me to trade, which I had not long prosecuted when my patron died, and I found myself in the midst of strangers, without one friend to support or protect me. Urged by this consideration, I sold my effects, and removed to this country, the governor of which, having been appointed by the viceroy, was my intimate acquaintance. Here has heaven prospered my endeavours, during a residence of sixteen years, in which my tranquillity was never invaded but by the remembrance of your mother, whose death I have in secret mourned without ceasing, and the reflection of you, whose fate I could never learn notwithstanding all my inquiries by means of my friends in France, who, after the most strict examination, could give me no other account than that you went abroad six years ago, and was never after heard of. I could not rest satisfied with this imperfect information, and, though my hope of finding you was but languid, resolved to go in quest of you in person; for which purpose, I have remitted to Holland the value of twenty thousand pounds, and am in possession of fifteen thousand more, with which I intended to embark myself on board of Captain Bowling, before I discovered this amazing stroke of Providence, which, you may be sure, has not altered my intention."


My father, having entertained us with this agreeable sketch of his life, withdrew, in order to relieve Don Antonio, who, in his absence, had done the honours of his house; and I was just dressed for my appearance among the guests, when Strap arrived from the ship.


He no sooner entered the grand apartment in which I was, and saw the magnificence of my apparel, than his speech was lost in amazement, and he gaped in silence at the objects that surrounded him. I took him by the hand, observed that I had sent for him to be a witness and sharer of my happiness, and told him I had found a father. At these words he started, and, after having continued some minutes with his mouth and eyes wide open, cried, "Ah!—odd, I know what! go thy ways, poor Narcissa, and go thy ways somebody else—well—Lord, what a thing is love! God help us! are all our mad pranks and protestations come to this? And have you fixed your habitation in this distant land? God prosper you—I find we must part at last—for I would not leave my poor carcase so far from my native home, for all the wealth of the universe!" With these ejaculations, he began to sob and make wry faces; upon which I assured him of his mistake, both in regard to my staying in Paraguay, and informed him, as briefly as I could, of the great event that had happened. Never was rapture more ludicrously expressed than in the behaviour of this worthy creature, who cried, laughed, whistled, sung, and danced, all in a breath. His transport was scarce over, when my father entered, who no sooner understood that this was Strap, than he took him by the hand, saying, "Is this the honest man who befriended you so much in your distress? You are welcome to my house, and I will soon put it in the power of my son to reward you for your good offices in his behalf; in the meantime go with us and partake of the repast that is provided." Strap, wild as he was with joy, would by no means accept of the proffered honour, crying, "God forbid! I know my distance—your worship shall excuse me." And Don Rodrigo, finding his modesty invincible, recommended him to his major-domo, to be treated with the utmost respect; while he carried me in a large saloon, where I was presented to a numerous company, who loaded me with compliments and caresses, and congratulated my father in terms not proper for me to repeat.


Without specifying the particulars of our entertainment, let it suffice to say, it was at the same time elegant and sumptuous, and the rejoicings lasted two days; after which, Don Rodrigo settled his affairs, converted his effects into silver and gold, visited and took leave of all his friends, who were grieved at his departure, and honoured me with considerable presents; and, coming on board of my uncle's ship, with the first fair wind we sailed from the Rio de la Plata, and in two months came safe to an anchor in the harbour of Kingston, in the Island of Jamaica.


I visit my old Friend Thompson—we set sail for Europe—meet with an odd Adventure—arrive in England—I ride across the Country from Portsmouth to Sussex—converse with Mrs. Sagely, who informs me of Narcissa's being in London—in consequence of this Intelligence, I proceed to Canterbury—meet with my old friend Morgan—arrive in London—visit Narcissa—introduce my Father to her—he is charmed with her good sense and beauty—we come to a Determination of demanding her Brother's Consent to our Marriage


I inquired, as soon as I got ashore, about my generous companion, Mr. Thompson, and hearing that he lived in a flourishing condition upon the estate left him by his wife's father, who had been dead some years, I took horse immediately, with the consent of Don Rodrigo, who had heard me mention him with great regard, and in a few hours reached the place of his habitation.


I should much wrong the delicacy of Mr. Thompson's sentiments to say barely he was glad to see me: he felt all that the most sensible and disinterested friendship could feel on this occasion, introduced me to his wife, a very amiable young lady, who had already blessed him with two fine children, and being as yet ignorant of my circumstances, frankly offered me the assistance of his purse and interest. I thanked him for his generous intention, and made him acquainted with my situation, on which he congratulated me with great joy, and, after I had stayed with him a whole day and night, accompanied me back to Kingston, to wait upon my father, whom he invited to his house. Don Rodrigo complied with his request, and, having been handsomely entertained during the space of a week, returned extremely well satisfied with the behaviour of my friend and his lady, to whom, at parting, he presented a very valuable diamond ring, as a token of his esteem. During the course of my conversation with Mr. Thompson, he gave me to understand, that his old commander Captain Oakum was dead some months, and that, immediately after his death, a discovery had been made of some valuable effects that he had feloniously secreted out of a prize by the assistance of Dr. Mackshane, who was now actually in prison on that account, and, being destitute of friends, subsisted solely on the charity of my friend, whose bounty he had implored in the most abject manner, after having been the barbarous occasion of driving him to that terrible extremity on board of The Thunder, which we have formerly related. Whatsoever this wretch had been guilty of, I applauded Mr. Thompson's generosity towards him in his distress, which wrought so much upon me also, that I sent him ten pistoles, in such a private manner that he could never know his benefactor.


While my father and I were caressed among the gentlemen on shore, Captain Bowling had written to his owners, by the packet, which sailed a few days after our arrival, signifying his prosperous voyage hitherto, and desiring them to insure his ship and cargo homeward bound: after which precaution he applied himself so heartily to the task of loading his ship that, with the assistance of Mr. Thompson, she was full in less than six weeks. This kind gentleman likewise procured for Don Rodrigo bills upon London for the greatest part of his gold and silver, by which means it was secured against the risk of the seas and the enemy; and, before we sailed, supplied us with such large quantities of all kinds of stock, that not only we, but the ship's company, fared sumptuously during the voyage.


Everything being ready, we took our leave of our kind entertainers, and, going on board at Port Royal, set sail for England on the first day of June. We beat up to windward, with fine easy weather, and one night believing ourselves near Cape Tiberon, lay to, with an intention to wood and water next morning in the bay. While we remained in this situation, a sailor, having drunk more new rum than he could carry, staggered over board, and, notwithstanding all the means that could be used to preserve him, went to the bottom, and disappeared. About two hours after this melancholy accident happened, as I enjoyed the cool air on the quarter-deck, I heard a voice rising, as it were, out of the sea and calling, "Ho, the ship ahoy!" Upon which one of the men upon the forecastle cried, "I'll be d—n'd if that an't Jack Marlinspike, who went overboard!" Not a little surprised at this event, I jumped into the boat that lay alongside, with the second mate and four men, and rowing towards the place from whence the voice (which repeated the hail) seemed to proceed, we perceived something floating upon the water. When we had rowed a little further, we discerned it to be a man riding upon a hencoop, who, seeing us approach, pronounced with a hoarse voice, "D—n your bloods! why did you not answer when I hailed?" Our mate, who was a veritable seaman, hearing his salute, said, "By G—, my lads, this is none of our man. This is the devil—pull away for the ship." The fellows obeyed his command without question, and were already some fathoms on our return, when I insisted on their taking up the poor creature, and prevailed upon them to go back to the wreck, which when we came near the second time, and signified our intention, we received an answer of "Avast, avast—what ship, brother?" Being satisfied in this particular, he cried, "D—n the ship, I was in hopes it had been my own—where are you bound?" We satisfied his curiosity in this particular too; upon which he suffered himself to be taken on board, and, after having been comforted with a dram, told us, he belonged to the Vesuvio man-of-war, upon a cruise off the island of Hispaniola; that he had fallen overboard four-and-twenty hours ago, and the ship being under sail, they did not choose to bring to, but tossed a hencoop overboard for his convenience, upon which he was in good hopes of reaching the Cape next morning: howsomever, he was as well content to be aboard of us because he did not doubt that we should meet his ship, and if he had gone ashore in the bay, he might have been taken prisoner by the French. My uncle and father were very much diverted with the account of this fellow's unconcerned behaviour; and in two days, meeting with the Vesuvio, as he expected, sent him on board of her, according to his desire.


Having beat up successfully the windward passage, we stretched to the northward, and falling in with a westerly wind, in eight weeks arrived in the soundings, and in two days after made for the Lizard. It is impossible to express the joy I felt at the sight of English ground! Don Rodrigo was not unmoved, and Strap shed tears of gladness. The sailors profited by our satisfaction, the shoe that was nailed to the mast being quite filled with our liberality. My uncle resolved to run up into the Downs at once, but the wind shifting when we were abreast of the Isle of Wight, he was obliged to turn into St. Helen's, and come to Spithead, to the great mortification of the crew, thirty of whom were immediately pressed on board a man-of-war.


My father and I went ashore immediately at Portsmouth, leaving Strap with the captain to go round with the ship and take care of our effects; and I discovered so much impatience to see my charming Narcissa, that my father permitted me to ride across the country to her brother's house; while he should hire a post-chaise for London, where he would wait for me at a place to which I directed him.


Fired with all the eagerness of passion, I took post that very night, and in the morning reached an inn about three miles from the squire's habitation; here I remained till next morning, allaying the torture of my impatience with the rapturous hope of seeing that divine creature after an absence of eighteen months, which, far from impairing, had raised my love to the most exalted pitch! Neither were my reflections free from apprehensions: that something intervened in spite of all my hope, and represented her as having yielded to the importunity of her brother and blessed the arms of a happy rival. My thoughts were even maddened with the fear of her death; and, when I arrived in the dark at the house of Mrs. Sagely, I had not for some time courage to desire admittance, lest my soul should be shocked with dismal tidings. At length, however, I knocked, and no sooner certified the good gentlewoman of my voice than she opened the door, and received me with the most affectionate embrace, that brought tears into her aged eyes: "For heaven's sake, dear mother," cried I, "tell me how is Narcissa? is she the same that I left her?" She blessed my ears with saying, "She is as beautiful, in as good health, and as much yours as ever." Transported at this assurance, I begged to know if I could not see her that very night, when this sage matron gave me to understand that my mistress was in London, and that things were strangely altered in the squire's house since my departure; that he had been married a whole year to Melinda, who at first found means to wean his attention so much from Narcissa, that he became quite careless of that lovely sister, comforting himself with the clause in his father's will, by which she should forfeit her fortune, by marrying without his consent: that my mistress, being but indifferently treated by her sister-in-law, had made use of her freedom some months ago, and gone to town, where she was lodged with Miss Williams, in expectation of my arrival; and had been pestered with the addresses of Lord Quiverwit, who, finding her heart engaged, had fallen upon a great many shifts to persuade her that I was dead; but, finding all his artifices unsuccessful, and despairing of gaining her affection, he had consoled himself for her indifference, by marrying another lady some weeks ago, who had already left him on account of some family uneasiness. Besides this interesting information, she told me there was not a great deal of harmony between Melinda and the squire, who was so much disgusted at the number of gallants who continued to hover about her even after her marriage, that he had hurried her down into the country, much against her own inclination, where their mutual animosities had risen to such a height, that they preserved no decency before company or servants, but abused one another in the grossest terms.


This good old gentlewoman, to give me a convincing proof of my dear Narcissa's unalterable love, gratified me with a sight of the last letter she had favoured her with, in which I was mentioned with so much honour, tenderness, and concern, that my soul was fired with impatience, and I determined to ride all night, that I might have it the sooner in my power to make her happy. Mrs. Sagely, perceiving my eagerness, and her maternal affection being equally divided between Narcissa and me, begged leave to remind me of the sentiments with which I went abroad, that would not permit me for any selfish gratification to prejudice the fortune of that amiable young lady, who must entirely depend upon me, after having bestowed herself in marriage. I thanked her for her kind concern, and as briefly as possible described my flourishing situation, which afforded this humane person infinite wonder and satisfaction. I told her, that now I had an opportunity to manifest my gratitude for the many obligations I owed, I would endeavour to make her old age comfortable and easy; as a step to which I proposed she should come and live with Narcissa and me. This venerable gentlewoman was so much affected with my words, that the tears ran down her ancient cheeks; she thanked heaven that I had not belied the presages she had made, on her first acquaintance with me; acknowledging my generosity, as she called it, in the most elegant and pathetic expressions; but declined my proposal, on account of her attachment to the dear melancholy cottage where she had so peacefully consumed her solitary widowhood. Finding her immovable on this subject, I insisted on her accepting a present of thirty guineas, and took my leave, resolving to accommodate her with the same sum annually, for the more comfortable support of the infirmities of old age.


Having rode all night, I found myself at Canterbury in the morning, where I alighted to procure fresh horses; and, as I walked into the inn, perceived an apothecary's on the other side of the street, with the name of Morgan over the door; alarmed at this discovery, I could not help thinking that my old messmate had settled in this place, and upon inquiry found my conjecture true, and that he was married lately to a widow in that city, by whom he had got three thousand pounds. Rejoiced at this intelligence, I went to his shop as soon as it was open, and found my friend behind the counter, busy in preparing a clyster. I saluted him at entrance, with, "Your servant, Mr. Morgan." Upon which he looked at me, and replying, "Your most humble servant, good sir," rubbed his ingredients in the mortar without any emotion. "What," said I, "Morgan, have you forgot your old messmate?" At these words he looked up again, and starting, cried, "As Cot is my—sure it cannot—yes, by my salfation, I pelieve it is my dear friend Mr. Rantom." He was no sooner convinced of my identity, than he threw down the pestle, overset the mortar, and jumping over the board, swept up the contents with his clothes, flew about my neck, hugged me affectionately, and daubed me all over with turpentine and the yolks of eggs which he had been mixing when I came in. Our mutual congratulations being over, he told me, that he found himself a widower upon his return from the West Indies; that he had got interest to be appointed surgeon of a man-of-war, in which capacity he had served some years, until he married an apothecary's widow, with whom he now enjoyed a pretty good sum of money, peace, and quiet, and an indifferent good trade. He was very desirous of hearing my adventures, which I assured him I had not time to relate, but told him in general, my circumstances were very good, and that I hoped to see him when I should not be in such a hurry as at present. He insisted, however, on my staying breakfast, and introduced me to his wife, who seemed to be a decent sensible woman, pretty well stricken in years. In the course of our conversation, he showed the sleeve-buttons I had exchanged with him at our parting in the West Indies, and was not a little proud to see that I had preserved his with the same care. When I informed him of Mackshane's condition, he seemed at first to exult over his distress; but, after a little recollection, said, "Well, he has paid for his malice; I forgife him, and may Cot forgife him likewise." He expressed great concern for the soul of Captain Oakum, which he believed was now gnashing its teeth; but it was some time before I could convince him of Thompson's being alive, at whose good fortune, nevertheless, he was extremely glad.


Having renewed our protestations of friendship, I bade the honest Welshman and his spouse farewell, and, taking post-horses, arrived at London that same night, where I found my father in good health, to whom I imparted what I had learned of Narcissa. This indulgent parent approved of my intention of marrying her, even without fortune, provided her brother's consent could not be obtained; promised to make over to me in a few days a sufficiency to maintain her in a fashionable manner and expressed a desire of seeing this amiable creature, who had captivated me so much. As I had not slept the night before, and was besides fatigued with my journey, I found myself under a necessity of taking some repose, and went to bed accordingly: next morning, about ten o'clock, took a chair, and according to Mrs. Sagely's directions, went to my charmer's lodgings, and inquired for Miss Williams. I had not waited in the parlour longer than a minute, when this young woman entered, and no sooner perceived me, than she shrieked and ran backward: but I got between her and the door, and clasping her in my arms, brought her to herself with an embrace. "Good heaven," cried she, "Mr. Random, is it you indeed? My mistress will run distracted with joy." I told her, it was from an apprehension that my sudden appearance might have had some bad effect on my dear Narcissa, that I had desired to see her first, in order to concert some method of acquainting her mistress gradually with my arrival. She approved of my conduct, and, after having yielded to the suggestions of her own friendship, in asking if my voyage had been successful, charged herself with that office, and left me glowing with desire of seeing and embracing the object of my love. In a very little time I heard some body coming down the stairs in haste, and the voice of my angel pronounce, with an eager tone, "O heaven! is it possible! where is he?" How were my faculties aroused at this well known sound! and how was my soul transported when she broke in upon my view in all the bloom of ripened beauty! Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eye, in every gesture dignity and love! You, whose souls are susceptible of the most delicate impressions, whose tender bosoms have felt the affecting vicissitudes of love, who have suffered an absence of eighteen long months from the dear object of your hope, and found at your return the melting fair as kind and constant as your heart can wish, do me justice on this occasion, and conceive what unutterable rapture possessed us both, while we flew into each other's arms! This was no time for speech: locked in a mutual embrace, we continued some minutes in a silent trance of joy! When I thus encircled all my soul held dear—while I hung over her beauties—beheld her eyes sparkle, and every feature flush with virtuous fondness—when I saw her enchanting bosom heave with undissembled rapture, and knew myself the happy cause—heavens! what was my situation! I am tempted to commit my paper to the flames, and to renounce my pen for ever, because its most ardent and lucky expression so poorly describes the emotions of my soul. "O adorable Narcissa!" cried I, "O miracle of beauty, love and truth! I at last fold thee in my arms! I at last can call thee mine! No jealous brother shall thwart our happiness again; fortune hath at length recompensed me for all my sufferings, and enabled me to do justice to my love." The dear creature smiled ineffably charmingly, and, with a look of bewitching tenderness, said, "and shall we never part again?" "Never," I replied, "thou wondrous pattern of all earthly perfection! never, until death shall divide us! By this ambrosial kiss, a thousand times more fragrant than the breeze that sweeps the orange grove, I never more will leave thee!"


As my first transport abated, my passion grew turbulent and unruly. I was giddy with standing on the brink of bliss, and all my virtue and philosophy were scarce sufficient to restrain the inordinate sallies of desire. Narcissa perceived the conflict within me, and with her usual dignity of prudence, called off my imagination from the object in view, and with eager expressions of interested curiosity, desired to know the particulars of my voyage. In this I gratified her inclination, bringing my story down to the present hour. She was infinitely surprised at the circumstance of finding my father, which brought tears into her lovely eyes. She was transported at hearing that approved of my flame, discovered a longing desire of being introduced to him, congratulated herself and me upon my good fortune, and observed, that this great and unexpected stroke of fate seemed to have been brought about by the immediate direction of Providence. Having entertained ourselves some hours with the genuine effusions of our souls, I obtained her consent to complete my happiness as soon as my father should judge it proper; and, applying with my own hands a valuable necklace, composed of diamonds and amethysts set alternately, which an old Spanish lady at Paraguay had presented me with, I took my leave, promising to return in the afternoon with Don Rodrigo. When I went home, this generous parent inquired very affectionately about the health of my dear Narcissa, to whom, that I might be the more agreeable, he put into my hand a deed, by which I found myself in possession of fifteen thousand pounds, exclusive of the profits of my own merchandise, which amounted to three thousand more. After dinner I accompanied him to the lodgings of my mistress, who, being dressed for the occasion, made a most dazzling appearance. I could perceive him struck with her figure, which I really think was the most beautiful that ever was created under the sun. He embraced her tenderly, and told her he was proud of having a son who had spirit to attempt, and qualifications to engage the affections of such a fine lady. She blushed at this compliment, and, with eyes full of the softest languishment turned upon me, said, she should have been unworthy of Mr. Random's attention, had she been blind to his extraordinary merit. I made no other answer than a low bow. My father, sighing, pronounced, "Such was once my Charlotte;" while the tear rushed into his eye, and the tender heart of Narcissa manifested itself in two precious drops of sympathy, which, but for his presence, I would have kissed away. Without repeating the particulars of our conversation, I shall only observe, that Don Rodrigo was as much charmed with her good sense as with her appearance, and she was no less pleased with his understanding and polite address. It was determined that he should write to the squire, signifying his approbation of my passion for his sister, and offering a settlement, which he should have no reason to reject; and that, if he should refuse the proposal, we would crown our mutual wishes without any further regard to his will.


My Father makes a present to Narcissa—the Letter is dispatched to her Brother—I appear among my Acquaintance—Banter's Behaviour—the Squire refuses his Consent—my Uncle comes to Town—approves of my Choice—I am married—we meet the Squire and his Lady at the Play—our Acquaintance is courted


After having spent the evening to the satisfaction of all present, my father addressed himself thus to Narcissa. "Madam, give me leave to consider you hereafter as my daughter, in which capacity I insist upon your accepting this first instance of my paternal duty and affection." With these words he put into her hand a bank note of five hundred pounds, which she no sooner examined, than with a low courtesy she replied. "Dear sir, though I have not the least occasion for this supply, I have too great a veneration for you to refuse this proof of your generosity and esteem, which I the more freely receive, because I already look upon Mr. Random's interest as inseparably connected with mine." He was extremely well pleased with her frank and ingenuous reply, upon which we saluted, and wished her good night. The letter, at my request, was dispatched to Sussex by an express, and in the meantime, Don Rodrigo, to grace my nuptials, hired a ready furnished house, and set up a very handsome equipage.


Though I passed the greatest part of the day with the darling of my soul, I found leisure sometimes to be among my former acquaintance, who were astonished at the magnificence of my appearance. Banter in particular was confounded at the vicissitudes of my fortune, the causes of which he endeavoured in vain to discover, until I thought fit to disclose the whole secret of my last voyage, partly in consideration of our former intimacy, and partly to prevent unfavourable conjectures, which he and others, in all probability, would have made in regard to my circumstances. He professed great satisfaction at this piece of news; and I had no cause to believe him insincere, when I considered that he would now look upon himself as acquitted of the debt he owed me, and at the same time flatter himself with the hopes of borrowing more. I carried him home to dinner with me, and my father liked his conversation so much, that, upon hearing his difficulties, he desired me to accommodate him for the present, and inquire, if he would accept of a commission in the army, towards the purchase of which he should willingly lend him money. Accordingly, I gave my friend an opportunity of being alone with me, when, as I expected, he told me that he was just on the point of being reconciled to an old rich uncle, whose heir he was, but wanted a few pieces for immediate expense, which he desired I would lend him and take my bond for the whole. His demand was limited to ten guineas; and when I put twenty in his hand, he stared at me for some moments; then, putting it into his purse, "Ay,—'tis all one—you shall have the whole in a very short time." When I had taken his note, to save the expense of a bond, I expressed some surprise that a fellow of his spirit should loiter away his time in idleness, and, asked why he did not choose to make his fortune in the army. "What," said he, "throw away money upon a subaltern's commission, and be under the command of a parcel of scoundrels, who have raised themselves above me by the most infamous practices. No, I love independency too well to sacrifice my life, health, and pleasure, for such a pitiful consideration." Finding him adverse to this way of life, I changed the subject, and returned to Don Rodrigo, who had just received the following epistle from the squire:


"Sir,—Concerning a letter which I received, subscribed R. Random, this is the answer. As for you, I know nothing of you. Your son, or pretended son, I have seen; if he marries my sister, at his peril be it; I do declare that he shall not have one farthing of her fortune, which becomes my property, if she takes a husband without my consent. Your settlement, I do believe, is all a sham, and yourself no better than you should be; but if you had all the wealth of the Indies, your son shall never match in our family with the consent of "Orson Topehall"


My father was not much surprised at this polite letter, after having heard the character of the author; and as for me, I was even pleased at his refusal, because I had now an opportunity of showing my disinterested love. By his permission I waited on my charmer: and having imparted the contents of her brother's letter, at which she wept bitterly, in spite of all my consolation and caresses, the time of our marriage was fixed two days. During this interval, in which my soul was wound up to the last stretch of rapturous expectation, Narcissa endeavoured to reconcile some of her relations in town to her marriage with me; but, finding them all deaf to her remonstrances, either out of envy or prejudice, she told me with the most enchanting sweetness, while the tears bedewed her lovely cheeks, "Sure the world will no longer question your generosity when you take a poor forlorn beggar to your arms?" Affected with her sorrow, I pressed the fair mourner to my breast, and swore that she was more dear and welcome on that account, because she had sacrificed her friends and fortune to her love for me. My uncle, for whose character she had a great veneration, being by this time come to town, I introduced him to my bride; and, although he was not very much subject to refined sensations, he was struck dumb with admiration at her beauty. After having kissed and gazed at her for some time, he turned to me, saying. "Odds bobs, Rory! a notable prize indeed, finely built and gloriously rigged, i'faith! If she an't well manned when you take the command of her, sirrah, you deserve to go to sea in a cockle shell. No offence, I hope, niece! you must not mind what I say, being (as the saying is) a plain seafaring man, though mayhap I have as much regard for you as another." She received him with great civility, told him she had longed a great while to see a person to whom she was so much indebted for his generosity to Mr. Random; that she looked upon him as her uncle, by which name she begged leave to call him for the future; and that she was very sure he could say nothing that would give her the least offence. The honest captain was transported at her courteous behaviour, and insisted upon giving her away at the ceremony, swearing that he loved her as well as if she was his own child, and that he would give two thousand guineas to the first fruit of our love, as soon as it would squeak. Everything being settled for the solemnisation of our nuptials, which were to be performed privately at my father's house, the auspicious hour arrived, when Don Rodrigo and my uncle went in the coach to fetch the bride and Miss Williams: leaving me with a parson, Banter, and Strap, neither of whom had as yet seen my charming mistress. My faithful valet, who was on the rack of impatience to behold a lady of whom he had heard so much, no sooner understood that the coach was returned, than he placed himself at a window, to have a peep at her as she alighted; and, when he saw her, clapped his hands together, turned up the white of his eyes, and, with his mouth wide open, remained in a sort of ecstacy, which broke out into "O Dea certe! qualis in Eurotae ripis, aut per iuga Cynthi exercet Diana choros?" The doctor and Banter were surprised to hear my man speak Latin; but when my father led Narcissa into the room, the object of their admiration was soon changed, as appeared in the countenances of both. Indeed, they must have been the most insensible of all beings, could they have beheld without emotion the divine creature that approached! She was dressed in a sack of white satin, embroidered on the breast with gold, the crown of her head was covered with a small French cap, from whence descended her beautiful hair in ringlets that waved upon her snowy neck, which dignified the necklace I had given her; her looks glowed with modesty and love; and her bosom, through the veil of gauze that shaded it, afforded a prospect of Elysium! I received this inestimable gift of Providence as became me; and in a little time the clergyman did his office, my uncle, at his own earnest request, acting the part of a father to my dear Narcissa, who trembled very much, and had scarce spirits sufficient to support her under this great change of situation. Soon as she was mine by the laws of heaven and earth, I printed a burning kiss upon her lips; my father embraced her tenderly, my uncle hugged her with great affection, and I presented her to my friend Banter, who saluted her in a very polite manner; Miss Williams hung round her neck, and went plentifully; while Strap fell upon his knees, and begged to kiss his lady's hand, which she presented with great affability. I shall not pretend to describe my own feelings at this juncture; let it suffice to say that having supped and entertained ourselves till ten o'clock, I cautioned my Narcissa against exposing her health by sitting up too late, and she was prevailed upon to withdraw with her maid to an apartment destined for us. When she left the room, her face overspread with a blush that set all my blood in a state of fermentation, and made every pulse beat with tenfold vigour! She was so cruel as to let me remain in this condition a full half-hour: when, no longer able to restrain my impatience, I broke from the company, burst into her chamber, pushed out her confidante, and locked the door, and found her—O heaven and earth!—a feast a thousand times more delicious than my most sanguine hopes presaged! But, let me not profane the chaste mysteries of Hymen. I was the happiest of men!


In the morning I was awaked by three or four drums, which Banter had placed under the window; upon which I withdrew the curtain, and enjoyed the unspeakable satisfaction of contemplating those angelic charms which were now in my possession! Beauty! which, whether sleeping or awake, shot forth peculiar graces! The light darting upon my Narcissa's eyes, she awoke also, and recollecting her situation, hid her blushes in my bosom. I was distracted with joy! I could not believe the evidence of my senses, and looked upon all that had happened as the fictions of a dream! In the meantime my uncle knocked at the door, and bade me turn out, for I had had a long spell. I rose accordingly, and sent Miss Williams to her mistress, myself receiving the congratulation of Captain Bowling, who rallied me in his sea phrase with great success. In less than an hour, Don Rodrigo led my wife into breakfast, where she received the compliments of the company on her looks, which, they said, if possible, were improved by matrimony. As her delicate ears were offended with none of those indecent ambiguities which are too often spoken on such occasions, she behaved with dignity, unaffected modesty, and ease; and, as a testimony of my affection and esteem, I presented her, in presence of them all, with a deed, by which I settled the whole fortune I was possessed of on her and her heirs for ever. She accepted it with a glance of most tender acknowledgment, observed, that she could not be surprised at anything of this kind I should do, and desired my father to take the trouble of keeping it, saying, "Next to my own Mr. Random, you are the person in whom I ought to have the greatest confidence." Charmed with her prudent and ingenuous manner of proceeding, he took the paper, and assured her that it should not lose its value while in his custody.


As we had not many visits to give and receive, the little time we stayed in town was spent in going to public diversions, where I have the vanity to think Narcissa was seldom eclipsed. One night, in particular, we sent our footman to keep one of the stage boxes, which we no sooner entered, than we perceived in the opposite box the squire and his lady, who seemed not a little surprised at seeing us. I was pleased at this opportunity of confronting them; the more, because Melinda was robbed of all her admirers by my wife, who happened that night to outshine her sister both in beauty and dress. She was piqued at Narcissa's victory, tossed her head a thousand different ways, flirted her fan, looked at us with disdain, then whispered to her husband, and broke out into an affected giggle; but all her arts proved ineffectual, either to discompose Mrs. Random, or to conceal her own mortification, which at length forced her away long before the play was done. The news of our marriage being spread, with many circumstances to our disadvantage, by the industry of this malignant creature, a certain set of persons fond of scandal began to inquire into the particulars of my fortune, which they no sooner understood to be independent, than the tables were turned, and our acquaintance was courted as much as it had been despised before: but she had too much dignity of pride to encourage this change of conduct, especially in her relations, whom she could never be prevailed upon to see, after the malicious reports they had raised to her prejudice.


My father intends to revisit the Place of his Nativity—we propose to accompany him—my Uncle renews his will in my favour, determining to go to sea again—we set out for Scotland—arrive at Edinburgh—purchase our paternal Estate—proceed to it—halt at the Town where I was educated—take up my bond to Crab—the Behaviour of Potion and his Wife, and one of our Female Cousins—our Reception at the Estate—Strap marries Miss Williams, and is settled by my Father to his own satisfaction—I am more and more happy.


My father intending to revisit his native country, and pay the tribute of a few tears at my mother's grave, Narcissa and I resolved to accompany him in the execution of his pious office, and accordingly prepared for the journey, in which, however, my uncle would not engage, being resolved to try his fortune once more at sea. In the meantime he renewed his will in favour of my wife and me, and deposited it in the hands of his brother-in-law: while I (that I might not be wanting to my own interest) summoned the squire to produce his father's will at Doctors' Commons, and employed a proctor to manage the affair in my absence.


Everything being thus settled, we took leave of all our friends in London, and set out for Scotland, Don Rodrigo, Narcissa, Miss Williams, and I, in the coach, and Strap, with two men in livery, on horseback; as we made easy stages, my charmer held it out very well, till we arrived at Edinburgh, where we proposed to rest ourselves some weeks.


Here Don Rodrigo having intelligence that the foxhunter had spoilt his estate, which was to be exposed to sale by public auction, he determined to make a purchase of the spot where he was born, and actually bought all the land that belonged to his father.


In a few days after this bargain was made, we left Edinburgh, in order to go and take possession; and by the way halted one night in that town where I was educated. Upon inquiry, I found that Mr. Crab was dead; whereupon I sent for his executor, paid the sum I owed with interest, and took up my bond. Mr. Potion and his wife, hearing of my arrival, had the assurance to come to the inn where we lodged, and send up their names, with the desire of being permitted to pay their respects to my father and me: but their sordid behaviour towards me, when I was an orphan, had made too deep an impression on my mind to be effaced by this mean mercenary piece of condescension: I therefore rejected their message with disdain, and bade Strap tell them, that my father and I desired to have no communication with such low-minded wretches as they were.


They had not been gone half-an-hour, when a woman, without any ceremony, opened the door of the room where we sat, and, making towards my father, accosted him with, "Uncle, your servant—I am glad to see you." This was no other than one of my female cousins, mentioned in the first part of my memoirs, to whom Don Rodrigo replied, "Pray, who are you, madam?" "Oh!" cried she, "my cousin Rory there knows me very well. Don't you remember me, Rory?" "Yes, madam," said I; "for my own part, I shall never forget you. Sir, this is one of the young ladies, who (as I have formerly told you) treated me so humanely in my childhood!" When I pronounced these words, my father's resentment glowed in his visage, and he ordered her to be gone, with such a commanding aspect, that she retired in a fright, muttering curses as she went downstairs. We afterwards learned that she was married to an ensign, who had already spent all her fortune; and that her sister had borne a child to her mother's footman, who is now her husband, and keeps a petty alehouse in the country.


The fame of our flourishing condition having arrived at this place before us, we got notice that the magistrates intended next day to compliment us with the freedom of their town; upon which my father, considering their complaisance in the right point of view, ordered the horses to the coach early in the morning.


We proceeded to our estate, which lay about twenty miles from this place; and, when we came within half-a-league of the house, were met by a prodigious number of poor tenants, men, women, and children, who testified their joy by loud acclamations, and accompanied our coach to the gate. As there is no part of the world in which the peasants are more attached to their lords than in Scotland, we were almost devoured by their affections. My father had always been their favourite, and now that he appeared their master, after having been thought dead so long, their joy broke out into a thousand extravagances. When we entered the court yard, we were surrounded by a vast number, who crowded together so closely to see us that several were in danger of being squeezed to death; those who were near Don Rodrigo fell upon their knees, and kissed his hand, or the hem of his garment, praying aloud for long life and prosperity to him; others approached Narcissa and me in the same manner; while the rest clapped their hands at a distance, and invoked heaven to shower its choicest blessings on our heads! In short, the whole scene, though rude, was so affecting, that the gentle partner of my heart wept over it, and my father himself could not refrain from dropping a tear.


Having welcomed his daughter and me to his house, he ordered some bullocks to be killed, and some hogsheads of ale to be brought from the neighbouring village, to regale these honest people, who had not enjoyed such a holiday for many years before.


Next day we were visited by the gentlemen in the neighbourhood, most of them our relations, one of whom brought along my cousin, the foxhunter, who had stayed at his house since he was obliged to leave his own! My father was generous enough to receive him kindly, and even promised to purchase for him a commission in the army, for which he expressed great thankfulness and joy.


My charming Narcissa was universally admired and loved for her beauty, affability, and good sense; and so well pleased with the situation of the place, and the company round, that she has not as yet discovered the least desire of changing her habitation.


We had not been many days settled, when I prevailed upon my father to pay a visit to the village where I had been at school. Here we were received by the principal inhabitants, who entertained us in the church, where Mr. Syntax the schoolmaster (my tyrant being dead) pronounced a Latin oration in honour of our family. And none exerted themselves more than Strap's father and relations, who looked upon the honest valet as the first gentleman of their race, and honoured his benefactors accordingly. Having received the homage of this place, we retired, leaving forty pounds for the benefit of the poor of the parish; and that very night, Strap being a little elevated with the regard that had been shown to him, and to me on his account, ventured to tell me, that he had a sneaking kindness for Miss Williams, and that, if his lady and I would use our interest in his behalf, he did not doubt that she would listen to his addresses. Surprised at this proposal, I asked if he knew the story of that unfortunate young gentlewoman; upon which he replied, "Yes, yes, I know what you mean—she has been unhappy, I grant you—but what of that? I am convinced of her reformation; or else you and my good lady would not treat her with such respect. As for the censure of the world, I value it not a fig's end—besides, the world knows nothing of the matter." I commended his philosophy, and interested Narcissa in his cause; who interceded so effectually, that in a little time Miss Williams yielded her consent, and they were married at the approbation of Don Rodrigo, who gave him five hundred pounds to stock a farm, and made him overseer of his estate. My generous bedfellow gave her maid the same sum; so that they live in great peace and plenty within half-a-mile of us, and daily put up prayers for our preservation.


If there be such a thing as true happiness on earth, I enjoy it. The impetuous transports of my passion are now settled and mellowed into endearing fondness and tranquillity of love, rooted by that intimate connection and interchange of hearts which nought but virtuous wedlock can produce. Fortune seems determined to make ample amends for her former cruelty, for my proctor writes that, notwithstanding the clause in my father-in-law's will, on which the squire founds his claim, I shall certainly recover my wife's fortune, in consequence of a codicil annexed, which explains that clause, and limits her restriction to the age of nineteen, after which she was at her own disposal. I would have set out for London immediately after receiving this piece of intelligence, but my dear angel has been qualmish of late, and begins to grow remarkably round in the waist; so that I cannot leave her in such an interesting situation, which I hope will produce something to crown my felicity.


Title: History of Tom Jones, a Foundling


Author: Henry Fielding


Release date: September 1, 2004 [eBook #6593] Most recently updated: March 15, 2018


Credits: Text file produced by Carlo Traverso, Charles Franks, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. This file has been cross-checked with two other different editions available on-line HTML file produced by David Widger


Produced by Carlo Traverso, Charles Franks, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. This file has been cross-checked with 2 other different editions available on-line


By Henry Fielding


Chapter i -- The introduction to the work, or bill of fare to the feast.


Chapter ii -- A short description of squire Allworthy, and a fuller account of Miss Bridget Allworthy, his sister.


Chapter iii -- An odd accident which befel Mr Allworthy at his return home. The decent behaviour of Mrs Deborah Wilkins, with some proper animadversions on bastards.


Chapter iv -- The reader's neck brought into danger by a description; his escape; and the great condescension of Miss Bridget Allworthy.


Chapter v -- Containing a few common matters, with a very uncommon observation upon them.


Chapter vi -- Mrs Deborah is introduced into the parish with a simile. A short account of Jenny Jones, with the difficulties and discouragements which may attend young women in the pursuit of learning.


Chapter vii -- Containing such grave matter, that the reader cannot laugh once through the whole chapter, unless peradventure he should laugh at the author.


Chapter viii -- A dialogue between Mesdames Bridget and Deborah; containing more amusement, but less instruction, than the former.


Chapter ix -- Containing matters which will surprize the reader.


Chapter x -- The hospitality of Allworthy; with a short sketch of the characters of two brothers, a doctor and a captain, who were entertained by that gentleman.


Chapter xi -- Containing many rules, and some examples, concerning falling in love: descriptions of beauty, and other more prudential inducements to matrimony.


Chapter xii -- Containing what the reader may, perhaps, expect to find in it.


Chapter xiii -- Which concludes the first book; with an instance of ingratitude, which, we hope, will appear unnatural.


Chapter i -- Showing what kind of a history this is; what it is like, and what it is not like.


Chapter ii -- Religious cautions against showing too much favour to bastards; and a great discovery made by Mrs Deborah Wilkins.


Chapter iii -- The description of a domestic government founded upon rules directly contrary to those of Aristotle.


Chapter iv -- Containing one of the most bloody battles, or rather duels, that were ever recorded in domestic history.


Chapter v -- Containing much matter to exercise the judgment and reflection of the reader.


Chapter vi -- The trial of Partridge, the schoolmaster, for incontinency; the evidence of his wife; a short reflection on the wisdom of our law; with other grave matters, which those will like best who understand them most.


Chapter vii -- A short sketch of that felicity which prudent couples may extract from hatred: with a short apology for those people who overlook imperfections in their friends.


Chapter viii -- A receipt to regain the lost affections of a wife, which hath never been known to fail in the most desperate cases.


Chapter ix -- A proof of the infallibility of the foregoing receipt, in the lamentations of the widow; with other suitable decorations of death, such as physicians, &c., and an epitaph in the true stile.


Chapter i -- Containing little or nothing.


Chapter ii -- The heroe of this great history appears with very bad omens. A little tale of so LOW a kind that some may think it not worth their notice. A word or two concerning a squire, and more relating to a gamekeeper and a schoolmaster.


Chapter iii -- The character of Mr Square the philosopher, and of Mr Thwackum the divine; with a dispute concerning----


Containing a necessary apology for the author; and a childish incident, which perhaps requires an apology likewise --


Chapter v. -- The opinions of the divine and the philosopher concerning the two boys; with some reasons for their opinions, and other matters.


Chapter vi -- Containing a better reason still for the before-mentioned opinions.


Chapter vii -- In which the author himself makes his appearance on the stage.


Chapter viii -- A childish incident, in which, however, is seen a good-natured disposition in Tom Jones.


Chapter ix -- Containing an incident of a more heinous kind, with the comments of Thwackum and Square.


Chapter x -- In which Master Blifil and Jones appear in different lights.


Chapter i -- Containing five pages of paper.


Chapter ii -- A short hint of what we can do in the sublime, and a description of Miss Sophia Western.


Chapter iii -- Wherein the history goes back to commemorate a trifling incident that happened some years since; but which, trifling as it was, had some future consequences.


Chapter iv -- Containing such very deep and grave matters, that some readers, perhaps, may not relish it.


Chapter v -- Containing matter accommodated to every taste.


Chapter vi -- An apology for the insensibility of Mr Jones to all the charms of the lovely Sophia; in which possibly we may, in a considerable degree, lower his character in the estimation of those men of wit and gallantry who approve the heroes in most of our modern comedies.


Chapter vii -- Being the shortest chapter in this book.


Chapter viii -- A battle sung by the muse in the Homerican style, and which none but the classical reader can taste.


Chapter ix -- Containing matter of no very peaceable colour.


Chapter x -- A story told by Mr Supple, the curate. The penetration of Squire Western. His great love for his daughter, and the return to it made by her.


Chapter xi -- The narrow escape of Molly Seagrim, with some observations for which we have been forced to dive pretty deep into nature.


Chapter xii -- Containing much clearer matters; but which flowed from the same fountain with those in the preceding chapter.


Chapter xiii -- A dreadful accident which befel Sophia. The gallant behaviour of Jones, and the more dreadful consequence of that behaviour to the young lady; with a short digression in favour of the female sex.


Chapter xiv -- The arrival of a surgeon.--His operations, and a long dialogue between Sophia and her maid.


Chapter i -- Of the SERIOUS in writing, and for what purpose it is introduced.


Chapter ii -- In which Mr Jones receives many friendly visits during his confinement; with some fine touches of the passion of love, scarce visible to the naked eye.


Chapter iii -- Which all who have no heart will think to contain much ado about nothing.


Chapter iv -- A little chapter, in which is contained a little incident.


Chapter v -- A very long chapter, containing a very great incident.


Chapter vi -- By comparing which with the former, the reader may possibly correct some abuse which he hath formerly been guilty of in the application of the word love.


Chapter vii -- In which Mr Allworthy appears on a sick-bed.


Chapter viii -- Containing matter rather natural than pleasing.


Chapter ix -- Which, among other things, may serve as a comment on that saying of Aeschines, that "drunkenness shows the mind of a man, as a mirrour reflects his person."


Chapter x -- Showing the truth of many observations of Ovid, and of other more grave writers, who have proved beyond contradiction, that wine is often the forerunner of incontinency.


Chapter xi -- In which a simile in Mr Pope's period of a mile introduces as bloody a battle as can possibly be fought without the assistance of steel or cold iron.


Chapter xii -- In which is seen a more moving spectacle than all the blood in the bodies of Thwackum and Blifil, and of twenty other such, is capable of producing.


Chapter ii -- The character of Mrs Western. Her great learning and knowledge of the world, and an instance of the deep penetration which she derived from those advantages.


Chapter iii -- Containing two defiances to the critics.


Chapter iv -- Containing sundry curious matters.


Chapter v -- In which is related what passed between Sophia and her aunt.


Chapter vi -- Containing a dialogue between Sophia and Mrs Honour, which may a little relieve those tender affections which the foregoing scene may have raised in the mind of a good-natured reader.


Chapter vii -- A picture of formal courtship in miniature, as it always ought to be drawn, and a scene of a tenderer kind painted at full length.


Chapter viii -- The meeting between Jones and Sophia.


Chapter ix -- Being of a much more tempestuous kind than the former.


Chapter x -- In which Mr Western visits Mr Allworthy.


Chapter xi -- A short chapter; but which contains sufficient matter to affect the good-natured reader.


Chapter xii -- Containing love-letters, &c.


Chapter xiii -- The behaviour of Sophia on the present occasion; which none of her sex will blame, who are capable of behaving in the same manner. And the discussion of a knotty point in the court of conscience.


Chapter xiv -- A short chapter, containing a short dialogue between Squire Western and his sister.


Chapter i -- A comparison between the world and the stage.


Chapter ii -- Containing a conversation which Mr Jones had with himself.


Chapter iii -- Containing several dialogues.


Chapter iv -- A picture of a country gentlewoman taken from the life.


Chapter v -- The generous behaviour of Sophia towards her aunt.


Chapter vi -- Containing great variety of matter.


Chapter vii -- A strange resolution of Sophia, and a more strange stratagem of Mrs Honour.


Chapter viii -- Containing scenes of altercation, of no very uncommon kind.


Chapter ix -- The wise demeanour of Mr Western in the character of a magistrate. A hint to justices of peace, concerning the necessary qualifications of a clerk; with extraordinary instances of paternal madness and filial affection.


Chapter x -- Containing several matters, natural enough perhaps, but low.


Chapter xi -- The adventure of a company of soldiers.


Chapter xii -- The adventure of a company of officers.


Chapter xiii -- Containing the great address of the landlady, the great learning of a surgeon, and the solid skill in casuistry of the worthy lieutenant.


Chapter xiv -- A most dreadful chapter indeed; and which few readers ought to venture upon in an evening, especially when alone.


Chapter xv -- The conclusion of the foregoing adventure.


Chapter i -- A wonderful long chapter concerning the marvellous; being much the longest of all our introductory chapters.


Chapter ii -- In which the landlady pays a visit to Mr Jones.


Chapter iii -- In which the surgeon makes his second appearance.


Chapter iv -- In which is introduced one of the pleasantest barbers that was ever recorded in history, the barber of Bagdad, or he in Don Quixote, not excepted.


Chapter v -- A dialogue between Mr Jones and the barber.


Chapter vi -- In which more of the talents of Mr Benjamin will appear, as well as who this extraordinary person was.


Chapter vii -- Containing better reasons than any which have yet appeared for the conduct of Partridge; an apology for the weakness of Jones; and some further anecdotes concerning my landlady.


Chapter viii -- Jones arrives at Gloucester, and goes to the Bell; the character of that house, and of a petty-fogger which he there meets with.


Chapter ix -- Containing several dialogues between Jones and Partridge, concerning love, cold, hunger, and other matters; with the lucky and narrow escape of Partridge, as he was on the very brink of making a fatal discovery to his friend.


Chapter x -- In which our travellers meet with a very extraordinary adventure.


Chapter xi -- In which the Man of the Hill begins to relate his history.


Chapter xii -- In which the Man of the Hill continues his history.


Chapter xiii -- In which the foregoing story is farther continued.


Chapter xiv -- In which the Man of the Hill concludes his history.


Chapter xv -- A brief history of Europe; and a curious discourse between Mr Jones and the Man of the Hill.


Chapter i -- Of those who lawfully may, and of those who may not, write such histories as this.


Chapter ii -- Containing a very surprizing adventure indeed, which Mr Jones met with in his walk with the Man of the Hill.


Chapter iii -- The arrival of Mr Jones with his lady at the inn; with a very full description of the battle of Upton.


Chapter iv -- In which the arrival of a man of war puts a final end to hostilities, and causes the conclusion of a firm and lasting peace between all parties.


Chapter v -- An apology for all heroes who have good stomachs, with a description of a battle of the amorous kind.


Chapter vi -- A friendly conversation in the kitchen, which had a very common, though not very friendly, conclusion.


Chapter vii -- Containing a fuller account of Mrs Waters, and by what means she came into that distressful situation from which she was rescued by Jones.


Chapter i -- Containing instructions very necessary to be perused by modern critics.


Chapter ii -- Containing the arrival of an Irish gentleman, with very extraordinary adventures which ensued at the inn.


Chapter iii -- A dialogue between the landlady and Susan the chamber-maid, proper to be read by all inn-keepers and their servants; with the arrival, and affable behaviour of a beautiful young lady; which may teach persons of condition how they may acquire the love of the whole world.


Chapter iv -- Containing infallible nostrums for procuring universal disesteem and hatred.


Chapter v -- Showing who the amiable lady, and her unamiable maid, were.


Chapter vi -- Containing, among other things, the ingenuity of Partridge, the madness of Jones, and the folly of Fitzpatrick.


Chapter vii -- In which are concluded the adventures that happened at the inn at Upton.


Chapter viii -- In which the history goes backward.


Chapter ix -- The escape of Sophia.


Chapter i -- A crust for the critics.


Chapter ii -- The adventures which Sophia met with after her leaving Upton.


Chapter iii -- A very short chapter, in which however is a sun, a moon, a star, and an angel.


Chapter iv -- The history of Mrs Fitzpatrick.


Chapter v -- In which the history of Mrs Fitzpatrick is continued.


Chapter vi -- In which the mistake of the landlord throws Sophia into a dreadful consternation.


Chapter vii -- In which Mrs Fitzpatrick concludes her history.


Chapter viii -- A dreadful alarm in the inn, with the arrival of an unexpected friend of Mrs Fitzpatrick.


Chapter ix -- The morning introduced in some pretty writing. A stagecoach. The civility of chambermaids. The heroic temper of Sophia. Her generosity. The return to it. The departure of the company, and their arrival at London; with some remarks for the use of travellers.


Chapter x -- Containing a hint or two concerning virtue, and a few more concerning suspicion.


Chapter i -- Showing what is to be deemed plagiarism in a modern author, and what is to be considered as lawful prize.


Chapter ii -- In which, though the squire doth not find his daughter, something is found which puts an end to his pursuit.


Chapter iii -- The departure of Jones from Upton, with what passed between him and Partridge on the road.


Chapter iv -- The adventure of a beggar-man.


Chapter v -- Containing more adventures which Mr Jones and his companion met on the road.


Chapter vi -- From which it may be inferred that the best things are liable to be misunderstood and misinterpreted.


Chapter vii -- Containing a remark or two of our own and many more of the good company assembled in the kitchen.


Chapter viii -- In which fortune seems to have been in a better humour with Jones than we have hitherto seen her.


Chapter ix -- Containing little more than a few odd observations.


Chapter x -- In which Mr Jones and Mr Dowling drink a bottle together.


Chapter xi -- The disasters which befel Jones on his departure for Coventry; with the sage remarks of Partridge.


Chapter xii -- Relates that Mr Jones continued his journey, contrary to the advice of Partridge, with what happened on that occasion.


Chapter xiii -- A dialogue between Jones and Partridge.


Chapter xiv -- What happened to Mr Jones in his journey from St Albans.


Chapter i -- An Invocation.


Chapter ii -- What befel Mr Jones on his arrival in London.


Chapter iii -- A project of Mrs Fitzpatrick, and her visit to Lady Bellaston.


Chapter iv -- Which consists of visiting.


Chapter v -- An adventure which happened to Mr Jones at his lodgings, with some account of a young gentleman who lodged there, and of the mistress of the house, and her two daughters.


Chapter vi -- What arrived while the company were at breakfast, with some hints concerning the government of daughters.


Chapter vii -- Containing the whole humours of a masquerade.


Chapter viii -- Containing a scene of distress, which will appear very extraordinary to most of our readers.


Chapter ix -- Which treats of matters of a very different kind from those in the preceding chapter.


Chapter x -- A chapter which, though short, may draw tears from some eyes.


Chapter xi -- In which the reader will be surprized.


Chapter xii -- In which the thirteenth book is concluded.


Chapter i -- An essay to prove that an author will write the better for having some knowledge of the subject on which he writes.


Chapter ii -- Containing letters and other matters which attend amours.


Chapter iii -- Containing various matters.


Chapter iv -- Which we hope will be very attentively perused by young people of both sexes.


Chapter v -- A short account of the history of Mrs Miller.


Chapter vi -- Containing a scene which we doubt not will affect all our readers.


Chapter vii -- The interview between Mr Jones and Mr Nightingale.


Chapter viii -- What passed between Jones and old Mr Nightingale; with the arrival of a person not yet mentioned in this history.


Chapter ix -- Containing strange matters.


Chapter x -- A short chapter, which concludes the book.


Chapter i -- Too short to need a preface.


Chapter ii -- In which is opened a very black design against Sophia.


Chapter iii -- A further explanation of the foregoing design.


Chapter iv -- By which it will appear how dangerous an advocate a lady is when she applies her eloquence to an ill purpose.


Chapter v -- Containing some matters which may affect, and others which may surprize, the reader.


Chapter vi -- By what means the squire came to discover his daughter.


Chapter vii -- In which various misfortunes befel poor Jones.


Chapter viii -- Short and sweet.


Chapter ix -- Containing love-letters of several sorts.


Chapter x -- Consisting partly of facts, and partly of observations upon them.


Chapter xi -- Containing curious, but not unprecedented matter.


Chapter xii -- A discovery made by Partridge.


Chapter ii -- A whimsical adventure which befel the squire, with the distressed situation of Sophia.


Chapter iii -- What happened to Sophia during her confinement.


Chapter iv -- In which Sophia is delivered from her confinement.


Chapter v -- In which Jones receives a letter from Sophia, and goes to a play with Mrs Miller and Partridge.


Chapter vi -- In which the history is obliged to look back.


Chapter vii -- In which Mr Western pays a visit to his sister, in company with Mr Blifil.


Chapter viii -- Schemes of Lady Bellaston for the ruin of Jones.


Chapter ix -- In which Jones pays a visit to Mrs Fitzpatrick.


Chapter x -- The consequence of the preceding visit.


Chapter i -- Containing a portion of introductory writing.


Chapter ii -- The generous and grateful behaviour of Mrs Miller.


Chapter iii -- The arrival of Mr Western, with some matters concerning the paternal authority.


Chapter iv -- An extraordinary scene between Sophia and her aunt.


Chapter v -- Mrs Miller and Mr Nightingale visit Jones in the prison.


Chapter vi -- In which Mrs Miller pays a visit to Sophia.


Chapter vii -- A pathetic scene between Mr Allworthy and Mrs Miller.


Chapter viii -- Containing various matters.


Chapter ix -- What happened to Mr Jones in the prison.


Chapter i -- A farewel to the reader.


Chapter ii -- Containing a very tragical incident.


Chapter iii -- Allworthy visits old Nightingale; with a strange discovery that he made on that occasion.


Chapter iv -- Containing two letters in very different stiles.


Chapter v -- In which the history is continued.


Chapter vi -- In which the history is farther continued.


Chapter vii -- Continuation of the history.


Chapter viii -- Further continuation.


Chapter ix -- A further continuation.


Chapter x -- Wherein the history begins to draw towards a conclusion.


Chapter xi -- The history draws nearer to a conclusion.


Chapter xii -- Approaching still nearer to the end.


Chapter the last -- In which the history is concluded.


To the Honourable


One of the Lords Commissioners of the Treasury.


Notwithstanding your constant refusal, when I have asked leave to prefix your name to this dedication, I must still insist on my right to desire your protection of this work.


To you, Sir, it is owing that this history was ever begun. It was by your desire that I first thought of such a composition. So many years have since past, that you may have, perhaps, forgotten this circumstance: but your desires are to me in the nature of commands; and the impression of them is never to be erased from my memory.


Again, Sir, without your assistance this history had never been completed. Be not startled at the assertion. I do not intend to draw on you the suspicion of being a romance writer. I mean no more than that I partly owe to you my existence during great part of the time which I have employed in composing it: another matter which it may be necessary to remind you of; since there are certain actions of which you are apt to be extremely forgetful; but of these I hope I shall always have a better memory than yourself.


Lastly, It is owing to you that the history appears what it now is. If there be in this work, as some have been pleased to say, a stronger picture of a truly benevolent mind than is to be found in any other, who that knows you, and a particular acquaintance of yours, will doubt whence that benevolence hath been copied? The world will not, I believe, make me the compliment of thinking I took it from myself. I care not: this they shall own, that the two persons from whom I have taken it, that is to say, two of the best and worthiest men in the world, are strongly and zealously my friends. I might be contented with this, and yet my vanity will add a third to the number; and him one of the greatest and noblest, not only in his rank, but in every public and private virtue. But here, whilst my gratitude for the princely benefactions of the Duke of Bedford bursts from my heart, you must forgive my reminding you that it was you who first recommended me to the notice of my benefactor.


And what are your objections to the allowance of the honour which I have sollicited? Why, you have commended the book so warmly, that you should be ashamed of reading your name before the dedication. Indeed, sir, if the book itself doth not make you ashamed of your commendations, nothing that I can here write will, or ought. I am not to give up my right to your protection and patronage, because you have commended my book: for though I acknowledge so many obligations to you, I do not add this to the number; in which friendship, I am convinced, hath so little share: since that can neither biass your judgment, nor pervert your integrity. An enemy may at any time obtain your commendation by only deserving it; and the utmost which the faults of your friends can hope for, is your silence; or, perhaps, if too severely accused, your gentle palliation.


In short, sir, I suspect, that your dislike of public praise is your true objection to granting my request. I have observed that you have, in common with my two other friends, an unwillingness to hear the least mention of your own virtues; that, as a great poet says of one of you, (he might justly have said it of all three), you


Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame.


If men of this disposition are as careful to shun applause, as others are to escape censure, how just must be your apprehension of your character falling into my hands; since what would not a man have reason to dread, if attacked by an author who had received from him injuries equal to my obligations to you!


And will not this dread of censure increase in proportion to the matter which a man is conscious of having afforded for it? If his whole life, for instance, should have been one continued subject of satire, he may well tremble when an incensed satirist takes him in hand. Now, sir, if we apply this to your modest aversion to panegyric, how reasonable will your fears of me appear!


Yet surely you might have gratified my ambition, from this single confidence, that I shall always prefer the indulgence of your inclinations to the satisfaction of my own. A very strong instance of which I shall give you in this address, in which I am determined to follow the example of all other dedicators, and will consider not what my patron really deserves to have written, but what he will be best pleased to read.


Without further preface then, I here present you with the labours of some years of my life. What merit these labours have is already known to yourself. If, from your favourable judgment, I have conceived some esteem for them, it cannot be imputed to vanity; since I should have agreed as implicitly to your opinion, had it been given in favour of any other man's production. Negatively, at least, I may be allowed to say, that had I been sensible of any great demerit in the work, you are the last person to whose protection I would have ventured to recommend it.


From the name of my patron, indeed, I hope my reader will be convinced, at his very entrance on this work, that he will find in the whole course of it nothing prejudicial to the cause of religion and virtue, nothing inconsistent with the strictest rules of decency, nor which can offend even the chastest eye in the perusal. On the contrary, I declare, that to recommend goodness and innocence hath been my sincere endeavour in this history. This honest purpose you have been pleased to think I have attained: and to say the truth, it is likeliest to be attained in books of this kind; for an example is a kind of picture, in which virtue becomes, as it were, an object of sight, and strikes us with an idea of that loveliness, which Plato asserts there is in her naked charms.


Besides displaying that beauty of virtue which may attract the admiration of mankind, I have attempted to engage a stronger motive to human action in her favour, by convincing men, that their true interest directs them to a pursuit of her. For this purpose I have shown that no acquisitions of guilt can compensate the loss of that solid inward comfort of mind, which is the sure companion of innocence and virtue; nor can in the least balance the evil of that horror and anxiety which, in their room, guilt introduces into our bosoms. And again, that as these acquisitions are in themselves generally worthless, so are the means to attain them not only base and infamous, but at best incertain, and always full of danger. Lastly, I have endeavoured strongly to inculcate, that virtue and innocence can scarce ever be injured but by indiscretion; and that it is this alone which often betrays them into the snares that deceit and villainy spread for them. A moral which I have the more industriously laboured, as the teaching it is, of all others, the likeliest to be attended with success; since, I believe, it is much easier to make good men wise, than to make bad men good.


For these purposes I have employed all the wit and humour of which I am master in the following history; wherein I have endeavoured to laugh mankind out of their favourite follies and vices. How far I have succeeded in this good attempt, I shall submit to the candid reader, with only two requests: First, that he will not expect to find perfection in this work; and Secondly, that he will excuse some parts of it, if they fall short of that little merit which I hope may appear in others.


I will detain you, sir, no longer. Indeed I have run into a preface, while I professed to write a dedication. But how can it be otherwise? I dare not praise you; and the only means I know of to avoid it, when you are in my thoughts, are either to be entirely silent, or to turn my thoughts to some other subject.


Pardon, therefore, what I have said in this epistle, not only without your consent, but absolutely against it; and give me at least leave, in this public manner, to declare that I am, with the highest respect and gratitude,--


Your most obliged,


The introduction to the work, or bill of fare to the feast.


An author ought to consider himself, not as a gentleman who gives a private or eleemosynary treat, but rather as one who keeps a public ordinary, at which all persons are welcome for their money. In the former case, it is well known that the entertainer provides what fare he pleases; and though this should be very indifferent, and utterly disagreeable to the taste of his company, they must not find any fault; nay, on the contrary, good breeding forces them outwardly to approve and to commend whatever is set before them. Now the contrary of this happens to the master of an ordinary. Men who pay for what they eat will insist on gratifying their palates, however nice and whimsical these may prove; and if everything is not agreeable to their taste, will challenge a right to censure, to abuse, and to d--n their dinner without controul.


To prevent, therefore, giving offence to their customers by any such disappointment, it hath been usual with the honest and well-meaning host to provide a bill of fare which all persons may peruse at their first entrance into the house; and having thence acquainted themselves with the entertainment which they may expect, may either stay and regale with what is provided for them, or may depart to some other ordinary better accommodated to their taste.


As we do not disdain to borrow wit or wisdom from any man who is capable of lending us either, we have condescended to take a hint from these honest victuallers, and shall prefix not only a general bill of fare to our whole entertainment, but shall likewise give the reader particular bills to every course which is to be served up in this and the ensuing volumes.


The provision, then, which we have here made is no other than Human Nature. Nor do I fear that my sensible reader, though most luxurious in his taste, will start, cavil, or be offended, because I have named but one article. The tortoise--as the alderman of Bristol, well learned in eating, knows by much experience--besides the delicious calipash and calipee, contains many different kinds of food; nor can the learned reader be ignorant, that in human nature, though here collected under one general name, is such prodigious variety, that a cook will have sooner gone through all the several species of animal and vegetable food in the world, than an author will be able to exhaust so extensive a subject.


An objection may perhaps be apprehended from the more delicate, that this dish is too common and vulgar; for what else is the subject of all the romances, novels, plays, and poems, with which the stalls abound? Many exquisite viands might be rejected by the epicure, if it was a sufficient cause for his contemning of them as common and vulgar, that something was to be found in the most paltry alleys under the same name. In reality, true nature is as difficult to be met with in authors, as the Bayonne ham, or Bologna sausage, is to be found in the shops.


But the whole, to continue the same metaphor, consists in the cookery of the author; for, as Mr Pope tells us--


"True wit is nature to advantage drest; What oft was thought, but ne'er so well exprest."


The same animal which hath the honour to have some part of his flesh eaten at the table of a duke, may perhaps be degraded in another part, and some of his limbs gibbeted, as it were, in the vilest stall in town. Where, then, lies the difference between the food of the nobleman and the porter, if both are at dinner on the same ox or calf, but in the seasoning, the dressing, the garnishing, and the setting forth? Hence the one provokes and incites the most languid appetite, and the other turns and palls that which is the sharpest and keenest.


In like manner, the excellence of the mental entertainment consists less in the subject than in the author's skill in well dressing it up. How pleased, therefore, will the reader be to find that we have, in the following work, adhered closely to one of the highest principles of the best cook which the present age, or perhaps that of Heliogabalus, hath produced. This great man, as is well known to all lovers of polite eating, begins at first by setting plain things before his hungry guests, rising afterwards by degrees as their stomachs may be supposed to decrease, to the very quintessence of sauce and spices. In like manner, we shall represent human nature at first to the keen appetite of our reader, in that more plain and simple manner in which it is found in the country, and shall hereafter hash and ragoo it with all the high French and Italian seasoning of affectation and vice which courts and cities afford. By these means, we doubt not but our reader may be rendered desirous to read on for ever, as the great person just above-mentioned is supposed to have made some persons eat.


Having premised thus much, we will now detain those who like our bill of fare no longer from their diet, and shall proceed directly to serve up the first course of our history for their entertainment.


A short description of squire Allworthy, and a fuller account of Miss Bridget Allworthy, his sister.


In that part of the western division of this kingdom which is commonly called Somersetshire, there lately lived, and perhaps lives still, a gentleman whose name was Allworthy, and who might well be called the favourite of both nature and fortune; for both of these seem to have contended which should bless and enrich him most. In this contention, nature may seem to some to have come off victorious, as she bestowed on him many gifts, while fortune had only one gift in her power; but in pouring forth this, she was so very profuse, that others perhaps may think this single endowment to have been more than equivalent to all the various blessings which he enjoyed from nature. From the former of these, he derived an agreeable person, a sound constitution, a solid understanding, and a benevolent heart; by the latter, he was decreed to the inheritance of one of the largest estates in the county.


This gentleman had in his youth married a very worthy and beautiful woman, of whom he had been extremely fond: by her he had three children, all of whom died in their infancy. He had likewise had the misfortune of burying this beloved wife herself, about five years before the time in which this history chuses to set out. This loss, however great, he bore like a man of sense and constancy, though it must be confest he would often talk a little whimsically on this head; for he sometimes said he looked on himself as still married, and considered his wife as only gone a little before him, a journey which he should most certainly, sooner or later, take after her; and that he had not the least doubt of meeting her again in a place where he should never part with her more--sentiments for which his sense was arraigned by one part of his neighbours, his religion by a second, and his sincerity by a third.


He now lived, for the most part, retired in the country, with one sister, for whom he had a very tender affection. This lady was now somewhat past the age of thirty, an aera at which, in the opinion of the malicious, the title of old maid may with no impropriety be assumed. She was of that species of women whom you commend rather for good qualities than beauty, and who are generally called, by their own sex, very good sort of women--as good a sort of woman, madam, as you would wish to know. Indeed, she was so far from regretting want of beauty, that she never mentioned that perfection, if it can be called one, without contempt; and would often thank God she was not as handsome as Miss Such-a-one, whom perhaps beauty had led into errors which she might have otherwise avoided. Miss Bridget Allworthy (for that was the name of this lady) very rightly conceived the charms of person in a woman to be no better than snares for herself, as well as for others; and yet so discreet was she in her conduct, that her prudence was as much on the guard as if she had all the snares to apprehend which were ever laid for her whole sex. Indeed, I have observed, though it may seem unaccountable to the reader, that this guard of prudence, like the trained bands, is always readiest to go on duty where there is the least danger. It often basely and cowardly deserts those paragons for whom the men are all wishing, sighing, dying, and spreading every net in their power; and constantly attends at the heels of that higher order of women for whom the other sex have a more distant and awful respect, and whom (from despair, I suppose, of success) they never venture to attack.


Reader, I think proper, before we proceed any farther together, to acquaint thee that I intend to digress, through this whole history, as often as I see occasion, of which I am myself a better judge than any pitiful critic whatever; and here I must desire all those critics to mind their own business, and not to intermeddle with affairs or works which no ways concern them; for till they produce the authority by which they are constituted judges, I shall not plead to their jurisdiction.


An odd accident which befel Mr Allworthy at his return home. The decent behaviour of Mrs Deborah Wilkins, with some proper animadversions on bastards.