CHAPTER X.

Being the last chapter of the seventh book

BOOK VIII.

CHAPTER I.

Being the first chapter of the eighth book

CHAPTER II.

Containing an account of Mr. Booth's fellow-sufferers

CHAPTER III.

Containing some extraordinary behaviour in Mrs. Ellison

CHAPTER IV.

Containing, among many matters, the exemplary behaviour of Colonel

James

CHAPTER V.

Comments upon authors

CHAPTER VI.

Which inclines rather to satire than panegyric

CHAPTER VII.

Worthy a very serious perusal

CHAPTER VIII.

Consisting of grave matters

CHAPTER IX.

A curious chapter, from which a curious reader may draw sundry

observations

CHAPTER X.

In which are many profound secrets of philosophy

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

AMELIA AND HER CHILDREN . . . Frontispiece

COLONEL BATH

LAWYER MURPHY

BOOK V.

Chapter i.

_In which the reader will meet with an old acquaintance._

Booth's affairs were put on a better aspect than they had ever worn

before, and he was willing to make use of the opportunity of one day

in seven to taste the fresh air.

At nine in the morning he went to pay a visit to his old friend

Colonel James, resolving, if possible, to have a full explanation of

that behaviour which appeared to him so mysterious: but the colonel

was as inaccessible as the best defended fortress; and it was as

impossible for Booth to pass beyond his entry as the Spaniards found

it to take Gibraltar. He received the usual answers; first, that the

colonel was not stirring, and an hour after that he was gone out. All

that he got by asking further questions was only to receive still

ruder answers, by which, if he had been very sagacious, he might have

been satisfied how little worth his while it was to desire to go in;

for the porter at a great man's door is a kind of thermometer, by

which you may discover the warmth or coldness of his master's

friendship. Nay, in the highest stations of all, as the great man

himself hath his different kinds of salutation, from an hearty embrace

with a kiss, and my dear lord or dear Sir Charles, down to, well Mr.

----, what would you have me do? so the porter to some bows with

respect, to others with a smile, to some he bows more, to others less

low, to others not at all. Some he just lets in, and others he just

shuts out. And in all this they so well correspond, that one would be

inclined to think that the great man and his porter had compared their

lists together, and, like two actors concerned to act different parts

in the same scene, had rehearsed their parts privately together before

they ventured to perform in public.

Though Booth did not, perhaps, see the whole matter in this just

light, for that in reality it is, yet he was discerning enough to

conclude, from the behaviour of the servant, especially when he

considered that of the master likewise, that he had entirely lost the

friendship of James; and this conviction gave him a concern that not

only the flattering prospect of his lordship's favour was not able to

compensate, but which even obliterated, and made him for a while

forget the situation in which he had left his Amelia: and he wandered

about almost two hours, scarce knowing where he went, till at last he

dropt into a coffee-house near St James's, where he sat himself down.

He had scarce drank his dish of coffee before he heard a young officer

of the guards cry to another, "Od, d--n me, Jack, here he comes--

here's old honour and dignity, faith." Upon which he saw a chair open,

and out issued a most erect and stately figure indeed, with a vast

periwig on his head, and a vast hat under his arm. This august

personage, having entered the room, walked directly up to the upper

end, where having paid his respects to all present of any note, to

each according to seniority, he at last cast his eyes on Booth, and

very civilly, though somewhat coldly, asked him how he did.

Booth, who had long recognized the features of his old acquaintance

Major Bath, returned the compliment with a very low bow; but did not

venture to make the first advance to familiarity, as he was truly

possessed of that quality which the Greeks considered in the highest

light of honour, and which we term modesty; though indeed, neither

ours nor the Latin language hath any word adequate to the idea of the

original.

The colonel, after having discharged himself of two or three articles

of news, and made his comments upon them, when the next chair to him

became vacant, called upon Booth to fill it. He then asked him several

questions relating to his affairs; and, when he heard he was out of

the army, advised him earnestly to use all means to get in again,

saying that he was a pretty lad, and they must not lose him.

Booth told him in a whisper that he had a great deal to say to him on

that subject if they were in a more private place; upon this the

colonel proposed a walk in the Park, which the other readily accepted.

During their walk Booth opened his heart, and, among other matters,

acquainted Colonel Bath that he feared he had lost the friendship of

Colonel James; "though I am not," said he, "conscious of having done

the least thing to deserve it."

Bath answered, "You are certainly mistaken, Mr. Booth. I have indeed

scarce seen my brother since my coming to town; for I have been here

but two days; however, I am convinced he is a man of too nice honour

to do anything inconsistent with the true dignity of a gentleman."

Booth answered, "He was far from accusing him of anything

dishonourable."--"D--n me," said Bath, "if there is a man alive can or

dare accuse him: if you have the least reason to take anything ill,

why don't you go to him? you are a gentleman, and his rank doth not

protect him from giving you satisfaction." "The affair is not of any

such kind," says Booth; "I have great obligations to the colonel, and

have more reason to lament than complain; and, if I could but see him,

I am convinced I should have no cause for either; but I cannot get

within his house; it was but an hour ago a servant of his turned me

rudely from the door." "Did a servant of my brother use you rudely?"

said the colonel, with the utmost gravity. "I do not know, sir, in

what light you see such things; but, to me, the affront of a servant

is the affront of the master; and if he doth not immediately punish

it, by all the dignity of a man, I would see the master's nose between

my fingers." Booth offered to explain, but to no purpose; the colonel

was got into his stilts; and it was impossible to take him down, nay,

it was as much as Booth could possibly do to part with him without an

actual quarrel; nor would he, perhaps, have been able to have

accomplished it, had not the colonel by accident turned at last to

take Booth's side of the question; and before they separated he swore

many oaths that James should give him proper satisfaction.

Such was the end of this present interview, so little to the content

of Booth, that he was heartily concerned he had ever mentioned a

syllable of the matter to his honourable friend.

[This chapter occurs in the original edition of _Amelia,_ between 1

and 2. It is omitted later, and would have been omitted here but for

an accident. As it had been printed it may as well appear: for though

it has no great value it may interest some readers as an additional

illustration of Fielding's dislike to doctors.--ED.

_Containing a brace of doctors and much physical matter._

He now returned with all his uneasiness to Amelia, whom he found in a

condition very little adapted to relieve or comfort him. That poor

woman was now indeed under very great apprehensions for her child,

whose fever now began to rage very violently: and what was worse, an

apothecary had been with her, and frightened her almost out of her

wits. He had indeed represented the case of the child to be very

desperate, and had prevailed on the mother to call in the assistance

of a doctor.

Booth had been a very little time in the room before this doctor

arrived, with the apothecary close at his heels, and both approached

the bed, where the former felt the pulse of the sick, and performed

several other physical ceremonies.

He then began to enquire of the apothecary what he had already done

for the patient; all which, as soon as informed, he greatly approved.

The doctor then sat down, called for a pen and ink, filled a whole

side of a sheet of paper with physic, then took a guinea, and took his

leave; the apothecary waiting upon him downstairs, as he had attended

him up.

All that night both Amelia and Booth sat up with their child, who

rather grew worse than better. In the morning Mrs. Ellison found the

infant in a raging fever, burning hot, and very light-headed, and the

mother under the highest dejection; for the distemper had not given

the least ground to all the efforts of the apothecary and doctor, but

seemed to defy their utmost power, with all that tremendous apparatus

of phials and gallypots, which were arranged in battle-array all over

the room.

Mrs. Ellison, seeing the distrest, and indeed distracted, condition of

Amelia's mind, attempted to comfort her by giving her hopes of the

child's recovery. "Upon my word, madam," says she, "I saw a child of

much the same age with miss, who, in my opinion, was much worse,

restored to health in a few days by a physician of my acquaintance.

Nay, I have known him cure several others of very bad fevers; and, if

miss was under his care, I dare swear she would do very well." "Good

heavens! madam," answered Amelia, "why should you not mention him to

me? For my part I have no acquaintance with any London physicians, nor

do I know whom the apothecary hath brought me." "Nay, madam," cries

Mrs. Ellison, "it is a tender thing, you know, to recommend a

physician; and as for my doctor, there are abundance of people who

give him an ill name. Indeed, it is true, he hath cured me twice of

fevers, and so he hath several others to my knowledge; nay, I never

heard of any more than one of his patients that died; and yet, as the

doctors and apothecaries all give him an ill character, one is

fearful, you know, dear madam." Booth enquired the doctor's name,

which he no sooner heard than he begged his wife to send for him

immediately, declaring he had heard the highest character imaginable

of him at the Tavern from an officer of very good understanding.

Amelia presently complied, and a messenger was despatched accordingly.

But before the second doctor could be brought, the first returned with

the apothecary attending him as before. He again surveyed and handled

the sick; and when Amelia begged him to tell her if there was any

hopes, he shook his head, and said, "To be sure, madam, miss is in a

very dangerous condition, and there is no time to lose. If the

blisters which I shall now order her, should not relieve her, I fear

we can do no more."--"Would not you please, sir," says the apothecary,

"to have the powders and the draught repeated?" "How often were they

ordered?" cries the doctor. "Only _tertia_ quaq. hora," says the

apothecary. "Let them be taken every hour by all means," cries the

doctor; "and--let me see, pray get me a pen and ink."--"If you think

the child in such imminent danger," said Booth, "would you give us

leave to call in another physician to your assistance--indeed my

wife"--"Oh, by all means," said the doctor, "it is what I very much

wish. Let me see, Mr. Arsenic, whom shall we call?" "What do you think

of Dr Dosewell?" said the apothecary.--"Nobody better," cries the

physician.--"I should have no objection to the gentleman," answered

Booth, "but another hath been recommended to my wife." He then

mentioned the physician for whom they had just before sent. "Who,

sir?" cries the doctor, dropping his pen; and when Booth repeated the

name of Thompson, "Excuse me, sir," cries the doctor hastily, "I shall

not meet him."--"Why so, sir?" answered Booth. "I will not meet him,"

replied the doctor. "Shall I meet a man who pretends to know more than

the whole College, and would overturn the whole method of practice,

which is so well established, and from which no one person hath

pretended to deviate?" "Indeed, sir," cries the apothecary, "you do

not know what you are about, asking your pardon; why, he kills

everybody he comes near." "That is not true," said Mrs. Ellison. "I

have been his patient twice, and I am alive yet." "You have had good

luck, then, madam," answered the apothecary, "for he kills everybody

he comes near." "Nay, I know above a dozen others of my own

acquaintance," replied Mrs. Ellison, "who have all been cured by him."

"That may be, madam," cries Arsenic; "but he kills everybody for all

that--why, madam, did you never hear of Mr. ----? I can't think of the

gentleman's name, though he was a man of great fashion; but everybody

knows whom I mean." "Everybody, indeed, must know whom you mean,"

answered Mrs. Ellison; "for I never heard but of one, and that many

years ago."

Before the dispute was ended, the doctor himself entered the room. As

he was a very well-bred and very good-natured man, he addressed

himself with much civility to his brother physician, who was not quite

so courteous on his side. However, he suffered the new comer to be

conducted to the sick-bed, and at Booth's earnest request to deliver

his opinion.

The dispute which ensued between the two physicians would, perhaps, be

unintelligible to any but those of the faculty, and not very

entertaining to them. The character which the officer and Mrs. Ellison

had given of the second doctor had greatly prepossessed Booth in his

favour, and indeed his reasoning seemed to be the juster. Booth

therefore declared that he would abide by his advice, upon which the

former operator, with his zany, the apothecary, quitted the field, and

left the other in full possession of the sick.

The first thing the new doctor did was (to use his own phrase) to blow

up the physical magazine. All the powders and potions instantly

disappeared at his command; for he said there was a much readier and

nearer way to convey such stuff to the vault, than by first sending it

through the human body. He then ordered the child to be blooded, gave

it a clyster and some cooling physic, and, in short (that I may not

dwell too long on so unpleasing a part of history), within three days

cured the little patient of her distemper, to the great satisfaction

of Mrs. Ellison, and to the vast joy of Amelia.

Some readers will, perhaps, think this whole chapter might have been

omitted; but though it contains no great matter of amusement, it may

at least serve to inform posterity concerning the present state of

physic.]

Chapter ii.

_In which Booth pays a visit to the noble lord._

When that day of the week returned in which Mr. Booth chose to walk

abroad, he went to wait on the noble peer, according to his kind

invitation.

Booth now found a very different reception with this great man's

porter from what he had met with at his friend the colonel's. He no

sooner told his name than the porter with a bow told him his lordship

was at home: the door immediately flew wide open, and he was conducted

to an ante-chamber, where a servant told him he would acquaint his

lordship with his arrival. Nor did he wait many minutes before the

same servant returned and ushered him to his lordship's apartment.

He found my lord alone, and was received by him in the most courteous

manner imaginable. After the first ceremonials were over, his lordship

began in the following words: "Mr. Booth, I do assure you, you are

very much obliged to my cousin Ellison. She hath given you such a

character, that I shall have a pleasure in doing anything in my power

to serve you.--But it will be very difficult, I am afraid, to get you

a rank at home. In the West Indies, perhaps, or in some regiment

abroad, it may be more easy; and, when I consider your reputation as a

soldier, I make no doubt of your readiness to go to any place where

the service of your country shall call you." Booth answered, "That he

was highly obliged to his lordship, and assured him he would with

great chearfulness attend his duty in any part of the world. The only

thing grievous in the exchange of countries," said he, "in my opinion,

is to leave those I love behind me, and I am sure I shall never have a

second trial equal to my first. It was very hard, my lord, to leave a

young wife big with her first child, and so affected with my absence,

that I had the utmost reason to despair of ever seeing her more. After

such a demonstration of my resolution to sacrifice every other

consideration to my duty, I hope your lordship will honour me with

some confidence that I shall make no objection to serve in any

country."--"My dear Mr. Booth," answered the lord, "you speak like a

soldier, and I greatly honour your sentiments. Indeed, I own the

justice of your inference from the example you have given; for to quit

a wife, as you say, in the very infancy of marriage, is, I

acknowledge, some trial of resolution." Booth answered with a low bow;

and then, after some immaterial conversation, his lordship promised to

speak immediately to the minister, and appointed Mr. Booth to come to

him again on the Wednesday morning, that he might be acquainted with

his patron's success. The poor man now blushed and looked silly, till,

after some time, he summoned up all his courage to his assistance, and

relying on the other's friendship, he opened the whole affair of his

circumstances, and confessed that he did not dare stir from his

lodgings above one day in seven. His lordship expressed great concern

at this account, and very kindly promised to take some opportunity of

calling on him at his cousin Ellison's, when he hoped, he said, to

bring him comfortable tidings.

Booth soon afterwards took his leave with the most profuse

acknowledgments for so much goodness, and hastened home to acquaint

his Amelia with what had so greatly overjoyed him. She highly

congratulated him on his having found so generous and powerful a

friend, towards whom both their bosoms burnt with the warmest

sentiments of gratitude. She was not, however, contented till she had

made Booth renew his promise, in the most solemn manner, of taking her

with him. After which they sat down with their little children to a

scrag of mutton and broth, with the highest satisfaction, and very

heartily drank his lordship's health in a pot of porter.

In the afternoon this happy couple, if the reader will allow me to

call poor people happy, drank tea with Mrs. Ellison, where his

lordship's praises, being again repeated by both the husband and wife,

were very loudly echoed by Mrs. Ellison. While they were here, the

young lady whom we have mentioned at the end of the last book to have

made a fourth at whist, and with whom Amelia seemed so much pleased,

came in; she was just returned to town from a short visit in the

country, and her present visit was unexpected. It was, however, very

agreeable to Amelia, who liked her still better upon a second

interview, and was resolved to solicit her further acquaintance.

Mrs. Bennet still maintained some little reserve, but was much more

familiar and communicative than before. She appeared, moreover, to be

as little ceremonious as Mrs. Ellison had reported her, and very

readily accepted Amelia's apology for not paying her the first visit,

and agreed to drink tea with her the very next afternoon.

Whilst the above-mentioned company were sitting in Mrs. Ellison's

parlour, serjeant Atkinson passed by the window and knocked at the

door. Mrs. Ellison no sooner saw him than she said, "Pray, Mr. Booth,

who is that genteel young serjeant? he was here every day last week to

enquire after you." This was indeed a fact; the serjeant was

apprehensive of the design of Murphy; but, as the poor fellow had

received all his answers from the maid of Mrs. Ellison, Booth had

never heard a word of the matter. He was, however, greatly pleased

with what he was now told, and burst forth into great praises of the

serjeant, which were seconded by Amelia, who added that he was her

foster-brother, and, she believed, one of the honestest fellows in the

world.

"And I'll swear," cries Mrs. Ellison, "he is one of the prettiest. Do,

Mr. Booth, desire him to walk in. A serjeant of the guards is a

gentleman; and I had rather give such a man as you describe a dish of

tea than any Beau Fribble of them all."

Booth wanted no great solicitation to shew any kind of regard to

Atkinson; and, accordingly, the serjeant was ushered in, though not

without some reluctance on his side. There is, perhaps, nothing more

uneasy than those sensations which the French call the _mauvaise

honte,_ nor any more difficult to conquer; and poor Atkinson would,

I am persuaded, have mounted a breach with less concern than he shewed

in walking across a room before three ladies, two of whom were his

avowed well-wishers.

Though I do not entirely agree with the late learned Mr. Essex, the

celebrated dancing-master's opinion, that dancing is the rudiment of

polite education, as he would, I apprehend, exclude every other art

and science, yet it is certain that persons whose feet have never been

under the hands of the professors of that art are apt to discover this

want in their education in every motion, nay, even when they stand or

sit still. They seem, indeed, to be overburthened with limbs which

they know not how to use, as if, when Nature hath finished her work,

the dancing-master still is necessary to put it in motion.

Atkinson was, at present, an example of this observation which doth so

much honour to a profession for which I have a very high regard. He

was handsome, and exquisitely well made; and yet, as he had never

learnt to dance, he made so awkward an appearance in Mrs. Ellison's

parlour, that the good lady herself, who had invited him in, could at

first scarce refrain from laughter at his behaviour. He had not,

however, been long in the room before admiration of his person got the

better of such risible ideas. So great is the advantage of beauty in

men as well as women, and so sure is this quality in either sex of

procuring some regard from the beholder.

The exceeding courteous behaviour of Mrs. Ellison, joined to that of

Amelia and Booth, at length dissipated the uneasiness of Atkinson; and

he gained sufficient confidence to tell the company some entertaining

stories of accidents that had happened in the army within his

knowledge, which, though they greatly pleased all present, are not,

however, of consequence enough to have a place in this history.

Mrs. Ellison was so very importunate with her company to stay supper

that they all consented. As for the serjeant, he seemed to be none of

the least welcome guests. She was, indeed, so pleased with what she

had heard of him, and what she saw of him, that, when a little warmed

with wine, for she was no flincher at the bottle, she began to indulge

some freedoms in her discourse towards him that a little offended

Amelia's delicacy, nay, they did not seem to be highly relished by the

other lady; though I am far from insinuating that these exceeded the

bounds of decorum, or were, indeed, greater liberties than ladies of

the middle age, and especially widows, do frequently allow to

themselves.

Chapter iii.

_Relating principally to the affairs of serjeant Atkinson._

The next day, when all the same company, Atkinson only excepted,

assembled in Amelia's apartment, Mrs. Ellison presently began to

discourse of him, and that in terms not only of approbation but even

of affection. She called him her clever serjeant, and her dear

serjeant, repeated often that he was the prettiest fellow in the army,

and said it was a thousand pities he had not a commission; for that,

if he had, she was sure he would become a general.

"I am of your opinion, madam," answered Booth; "and he hath got one

hundred pounds of his own already, if he could find a wife now to help

him to two or three hundred more, I think he might easily get a

commission in a marching regiment; for I am convinced there is no

colonel in the army would refuse him."

"Refuse him, indeed!" said Mrs. Ellison; "no; he would be a very

pretty colonel that did. And, upon my honour, I believe there are very

few ladies who would refuse him, if he had but a proper opportunity of

soliciting them. The colonel and the lady both would be better off

than with one of those pretty masters that I see walking about, and

dragging their long swords after them, when they should rather drag

their leading-strings."

"Well said," cries Booth, "and spoken like a woman of spirit.--Indeed,

I believe they would be both better served."

"True, captain," answered Mrs. Ellison; "I would rather leave the two

first syllables out of the word gentleman than the last."

"Nay, I assure you," replied Booth, "there is not a quieter creature

in the world. Though the fellow hath the bravery of a lion, he hath

the meekness of a lamb. I can tell you stories enow of that kind, and

so can my dear Amelia, when he was a boy."

"O! if the match sticks there," cries Amelia, "I positively will not

spoil his fortune by my silence. I can answer for him from his

infancy, that he was one of the best-natured lads in the world. I will

tell you a story or two of him, the truth of which I can testify from

my own knowledge. When he was but six years old he was at play with me

at my mother's house, and a great pointer-dog bit him through the leg.

The poor lad, in the midst of the anguish of his wound, declared he

was overjoyed it had not happened to miss (for the same dog had just

before snapt at me, and my petticoats had been my defence).--Another

instance of his goodness, which greatly recommended him to my father,

and which I have loved him for ever since, was this: my father was a

great lover of birds, and strictly forbad the spoiling of their nests.

Poor Joe was one day caught upon a tree, and, being concluded guilty,

was severely lashed for it; but it was afterwards discovered that

another boy, a friend of Joe's, had robbed the nest of its young ones,

and poor Joe had climbed the tree in order to restore them,

notwithstanding which, he submitted to the punishment rather than he

would impeach his companion. But, if these stories appear childish and

trifling, the duty and kindness he hath shewn to his mother must

recommend him to every one. Ever since he hath been fifteen years old

he hath more than half supported her: and when my brother died, I

remember particularly, Joe, at his desire, for he was much his

favourite, had one of his suits given him; but, instead of his

becoming finer on that occasion, another young fellow came to church

in my brother's cloaths, and my old nurse appeared the same Sunday in

a new gown, which her son had purchased for her with the sale of his

legacy."

"Well, I protest, he is a very worthy creature," said Mrs. Bennet.

"He is a charming fellow," cries Mrs. Ellison--"but then the name of

serjeant, Captain Booth; there, as the play says, my pride brings me

off again."

And whatsoever the sages charge on pride,

The angels' fall, and twenty other good faults beside;

On earth I'm sure--I'm sure--something--calling

Pride saves man, and our sex too, from falling.--

Here a footman's rap at the door shook the room. Upon which Mrs.

Ellison, running to the window, cried out, "Let me die if it is not my

lord! what shall I do? I must be at home to him; but suppose he should

enquire for you, captain, what shall I say? or will you go down with

me?"

The company were in some confusion at this instant, and before they

had agreed on anything, Booth's little girl came running into the

room, and said, "There was a prodigious great gentleman coming up-

stairs." She was immediately followed by his lordship, who, as he knew

Booth must be at home, made very little or no enquiry at the door.

Amelia was taken somewhat at a surprize, but she was too polite to

shew much confusion; for, though she knew nothing of the town, she had

had a genteel education, and kept the best company the country

afforded. The ceremonies therefore past as usual, and they all sat

down.

His lordship soon addressed himself to Booth, saying, "As I have what

I think good news for you, sir, I could not delay giving myself the

pleasure of communicating it to you. I have mentioned your affair

where I promised you, and I have no doubt of my success. One may

easily perceive, you know, from the manner of people's behaving upon

such occasions; and, indeed, when I related your case, I found there

was much inclination to serve you. Great men, Mr. Booth, must do

things in their own time; but I think you may depend on having

something done very soon."

Booth made many acknowledgments for his lordship's goodness, and now a

second time paid all the thanks which would have been due, even had

the favour been obtained. This art of promising is the economy of a

great man's pride, a sort of good husbandry in conferring favours, by

which they receive tenfold in acknowledgments for every obligation, I

mean among those who really intend the service; for there are others

who cheat poor men of their thanks, without ever designing to deserve

them at all.

This matter being sufficiently discussed, the conversation took a

gayer turn; and my lord began to entertain the ladies with some of

that elegant discourse which, though most delightful to hear, it is

impossible should ever be read.

His lordship was so highly pleased with Amelia, that he could not help

being somewhat particular to her; but this particularity distinguished

itself only in a higher degree of respect, and was so very polite, and

so very distant, that she herself was pleased, and at his departure,

which was not till he had far exceeded the length of a common visit,

declared he was the finest gentleman she had ever seen; with which

sentiment her husband and Mrs. Ellison both entirely concurred.

Mrs. Bennet, on the contrary, exprest some little dislike to my lord's

complaisance, which she called excessive. "For my own part," said she,

"I have not the least relish for those very fine gentlemen; what the

world generally calls politeness, I term insincerity; and I am more

charmed with the stories which Mrs. Booth told us of the honest

serjeant than with all that the finest gentlemen in the world ever

said in their lives!"

"O! to be sure," cries Mrs. Ellison; "_All for Love, or the World

well Lost,_ is a motto very proper for some folks to wear in their

coat of arms; but the generality of the world will, I believe, agree

with that lady's opinion of my cousin, rather than with Mrs. Bennet."

Mrs. Bennet, seeing Mrs. Ellison took offence at what she said,

thought proper to make some apology, which was very readily accepted,

and so ended the visit.

We cannot however put an end to the chapter without observing that

such is the ambitious temper of beauty, that it may always apply to

itself that celebrated passage in Lucan,

_Nec quenquam jam ferre potest Caesarve priorem, Pompeiusve

parem._

Indeed, I believe, it may be laid down as a general rule, that no

woman who hath any great pretensions to admiration is ever well

pleased in a company where she perceives herself to fill only the

second place. This observation, however, I humbly submit to the

judgment of the ladies, and hope it will be considered as retracted by

me if they shall dissent from my opinion.

Chapter iv.

_Containing matters that require no preface._

When Booth and his wife were left alone together they both extremely

exulted in their good fortune in having found so good a friend as his

lordship; nor were they wanting in very warm expressions of gratitude

towards Mrs. Ellison. After which they began to lay down schemes of

living when Booth should have his commission of captain; and, after

the exactest computation, concluded that, with economy, they should be

able to save at least fifty pounds a-year out of their income in order

to pay their debts.

These matters being well settled, Amelia asked Booth what he thought

of Mrs. Bennet? "I think, my dear," answered Booth, "that she hath

been formerly a very pretty woman." "I am mistaken," replied she, "if

she be not a very good creature. I don't know I ever took such a

liking to any one on so short an acquaintance. I fancy she hath been a

very spritely woman; for, if you observe, she discovers by starts a

great vivacity in her countenance." "I made the same observation,"

cries Booth: "sure some strange misfortune hath befallen her." "A

misfortune, indeed!" answered Amelia; "sure, child, you forget what

Mrs. Ellison told us, that she had lost a beloved husband. A

misfortune which I have often wondered at any woman's surviving." At

which words she cast a tender look at Booth, and presently afterwards,

throwing herself upon his neck, cried, "O, Heavens! what a happy

creature am I! when I consider the dangers you have gone through, how

I exult in my bliss!" The good-natured reader will suppose that Booth

was not deficient in returning such tenderness, after which the

conversation became too fond to be here related.

The next morning Mrs. Ellison addressed herself to Booth as follows:

"I shall make no apology, sir, for what I am going to say, as it

proceeds from my friendship to yourself and your dear lady. I am

convinced then, sir, there is a something more than accident in your

going abroad only one day in the week. Now, sir, if, as I am afraid,

matters are not altogether as well as I wish them, I beg, since I do

not believe you are provided with a lawyer, that you will suffer me to

recommend one to you. The person I shall mention is, I assure you, of

much ability in his profession, and I have known him do great services

to gentlemen under a cloud. Do not be ashamed of your circumstances,

my dear friend: they are a much greater scandal to those who have left

so much merit unprovided for."

Booth gave Mrs. Ellison abundance of thanks for her kindness, and

explicitly confessed to her that her conjectures were right, and,

without hesitation, accepted the offer of her friend's assistance.

Mrs. Ellison then acquainted him with her apprehensions on his

account. She said she had both yesterday and this morning seen two or

three very ugly suspicious fellows pass several times by her window.

"Upon all accounts," said she, "my dear sir, I advise you to keep

yourself close confined till the lawyer hath been with you. I am sure

he will get you your liberty, at least of walking about within the

verge. There's something to be done with the board of green-cloth; I

don't know what; but this I know, that several gentlemen have lived

here a long time very comfortably, and have defied all the vengeance

of their creditors. However, in the mean time, you must be a close

prisoner with your lady; and I believe there is no man in England but

would exchange his liberty for the same gaol."

She then departed in order to send for the attorney, and presently

afterwards the serjeant arrived with news of the like kind. He said he

had scraped an acquaintance with Murphy. "I hope your honour will

pardon me," cries Atkinson, "but I pretended to have a small demand

upon your honour myself, and offered to employ him in the business.

Upon which he told me that, if I would go with him to the Marshal's

court, and make affidavit of my debt, he should be able very shortly

to get it me; for I shall have the captain in hold," cries he,

"within a day or two." "I wish," said the serjeant, "I could do your

honour any service. Shall I walk about all day before the door? or

shall I be porter, and watch it in the inside till your honour can

find some means of securing yourself? I hope you will not be offended

at me, but I beg you would take care of falling into Murphy's hands;

for he hath the character of the greatest villain upon earth. I am

afraid you will think me too bold, sir; but I have a little money; if

it can be of any service, do, pray your honour, command it. It can

never do me so much good any other way. Consider, sir, I owe all I

have to yourself and my dear mistress."

Booth stood a moment, as if he had been thunderstruck, and then, the

tears bursting from his eyes, he said, "Upon my soul, Atkinson, you

overcome me. I scarce ever heard of so--much goodness, nor do I know

how to express my sentiments of it. But, be assured, as for your

money, I will not accept it; and let it satisfy you, that in my

present circumstances it would do me no essential service; but this be

assured of likewise, that whilst I live I shall never forget the

kindness of the offer. However, as I apprehend I may be in some danger

of fellows getting into the house, for a day or two, as I have no

guard but a poor little girl, I will not refuse the goodness you offer

to shew in my protection. And I make no doubt but Mrs. Ellison will

let you sit in her parlour for that purpose."

Atkinson, with the utmost readiness, undertook the office of porter;

and Mrs. Ellison as readily allotted him a place in her back-parlour,

where he continued three days together, from eight in the morning till

twelve at night; during which time, he had sometimes the company of

Mrs. Ellison, and sometimes of Booth, Amelia, and Mrs. Bennet too; for

this last had taken as great a fancy to Amelia as Amelia had to her,

and, therefore, as Mr. Booth's affairs were now no secret in the

neighbourhood, made her frequent visits during the confinement of her

husband, and consequently her own.

Nothing, as I remember, happened in this interval of time, more worthy

notice than the following card which Amelia received from her old

acquaintance Mrs. James:--"Mrs. James sends her compliments to Mrs.

Booth, and desires to know how she does; for, as she hath not had the

favour of seeing her at her own house, or of meeting her in any public

place, in so long time, fears it may be owing to ill health."

Amelia had long given over all thoughts of her friend, and doubted not

but that she was as entirely given over by her; she was very much

surprized at this message, and under some doubt whether it was not

meant as an insult, especially from the mention of public places,

which she thought so inconsistent with her present circumstances, of

which she supposed Mrs. James was well apprized. However, at the

entreaty of her husband, who languished for nothing more than to be

again reconciled to his friend James, Amelia undertook to pay the lady

a visit, and to examine into the mystery of this conduct, which

appeared to her so unaccountable.

Mrs. James received her with a degree of civility that amazed Amelia

no less than her coldness had done before. She resolved to come to an

eclaircissement, and, having sat out some company that came in, when

they were alone together Amelia, after some silence and many offers to

speak, at last said, "My dear Jenny (if you will now suffer me to call

you by so familiar a name), have you entirely forgot a certain young

lady who had the pleasure of being your intimate acquaintance at

Montpelier?" "Whom do you mean, dear madam?" cries Mrs. James with

great concern. "I mean myself," answered Amelia. "You surprize me,

madam," replied Mrs. James: "how can you ask me that question?" "Nay,

my dear, I do not intend to offend you," cries Amelia, "but I am

really desirous to solve to myself the reason of that coldness which

you shewed me when you did me the favour of a visit. Can you think, my

dear, I was not disappointed, when I expected to meet an intimate

friend, to receive a cold formal visitant? I desire you to examine

your own heart and answer me honestly if you do not think I had some

little reason to be dissatisfied with your behaviour?" "Indeed, Mrs.

Booth," answered the other lady, "you surprize me very much; if there

was anything displeasing to you in my behaviour I am extremely

concerned at it. I did not know I had been defective in any of the

rules of civility, but if I was, madam, I ask your pardon." "Is

civility, then, my dear," replied Amelia, "a synonymous term with

friendship? Could I have expected, when I parted the last time with

Miss Jenny Bath, to have met her the next time in the shape of a fine

lady, complaining of the hardship of climbing up two pair of stairs to

visit me, and then approaching me with the distant air of a new or a

slight acquaintance? Do you think, my dear Mrs. James, if the tables

had been turned, if my fortune had been as high in the world as yours,

and you in my distress and abject condition, that I would not have

climbed as high as the monument to visit you?" "Sure, madam," cried

Mrs. James, "I mistake you, or you have greatly mistaken me. Can you

complain of my not visiting you, who have owed me a visit almost these

three weeks? Nay, did I not even then send you a card, which sure was

doing more than all the friendship and good-breeding in the world

required; but, indeed, as I had met you in no public place, I really

thought you was ill."

"How can you mention public places to me," said Amelia, "when you can

hardly be a stranger to my present situation? Did you not know, madam,

that I was ruined?" "No, indeed, madam, did I not," replied Mrs.

James; "I am sure I should have been highly concerned if! had." "Why,

sure, my dear," cries Amelia, "you could not imagine that we were in

affluent circumstances, when you found us in such a place, and in such

a condition." "Nay, my dear," answered Mrs. James, "since you are

pleased to mention it first yourself, I own I was a little surprized

to see you in no better lodgings; but I concluded you had your own

reasons for liking them; and, for my own part, I have laid it down as

a positive rule never to enquire into the private affairs of any one,

especially of my friends. I am not of the humour of some ladies, who

confine the circle of their acquaintance to one part of the town, and

would not be known to visit in the city for the world. For my part, I

never dropt an acquaintance with any one while it was reputable to

keep it up; and I can solemnly declare I have not a friend in the

world for whom I have a greater esteem than I have for Mrs. Booth."

At this instant the arrival of a new visitant put an end to the

discourse; and Amelia soon after took her leave without the least

anger, but with some little unavoidable contempt for a lady, in whose

opinion, as we have hinted before, outward form and ceremony

constituted the whole essence of friendship; who valued all her

acquaintance alike, as each individual served equally to fill up a

place in her visiting roll; and who, in reality, had not the least

concern for the good qualities or well-being of any of them.

Chapter v.

_Containing much heroic matter._

At the end of three days Mrs. Ellison's friend had so far purchased

Mr. Booth's liberty that he could walk again abroad within the verge

without any danger of having a warrant backed against him by the board

before he had notice. As for the ill-looked persons that had given the

alarm, it was now discovered that another unhappy gentleman, and not

Booth, was the object of their pursuit.

Mr. Booth, now being delivered from his fears, went, as he had

formerly done, to take his morning walk in the Park. Here he met

Colonel Bath in company with some other officers, and very civilly

paid his respects to him. But, instead of returning the salute, the

colonel looked him full in the face with a very stern countenance;

and, if he could be said to take any notice of him, it was in such a

manner as to inform him he would take no notice of him.

Booth was not more hurt than surprized at this behaviour, and resolved

to know the reason of it. He therefore watched an opportunity till the

colonel was alone, and then walked boldly up to him, and desired to

know if he had given him any offence? The colonel answered hastily,

"Sir, I am above being offended with you, nor do I think it consistent

with my dignity to make you any answer." Booth replied, "I don't know,

sir, that I have done anything to deserve this treatment." "Look'ee,

sir," cries the colonel, "if I had not formerly had some respect for

you, I should not think you worth my resentment. However, as you are a

gentleman born, and an officer, and as I have had an esteem for you, I

will give you some marks of it by putting it in your power to do

yourself justice. I will tell you therefore, sir, that you have acted

like a scoundrel." "If we were not in the Park," answered Booth

warmly, "I would thank you very properly for that compliment." "O,

sir," cries the colonel, "we can be soon in a convenient place." Upon

which Booth answered, he would attend him wherever he pleased. The

colonel then bid him come along, and strutted forward directly up

Constitution-hill to Hyde-park, Booth following him at first, and

afterwards walking before him, till they came to that place which may

be properly called the field of blood, being that part, a little to

the left of the ring, which heroes have chosen for the scene of their

exit out of this world.

Booth reached the ring some time before the colonel; for he mended not

his pace any more than a Spaniard. To say truth, I believe it was not

in his power: for he had so long accustomed himself to one and the

same strut, that as a horse, used always to trotting, can scarce be

forced into a gallop, so could no passion force the colonel to alter

his pace.

[Illustration with caption: _Colonel Bath._]

At length, however, both parties arrived at the lists, where the

colonel very deliberately took off his wig and coat, and laid them on

the grass, and then, drawing his sword, advanced to Booth, who had

likewise his drawn weapon in his hand, but had made no other

preparation for the combat.

The combatants now engaged with great fury, and, after two or three

passes, Booth run the colonel through the body and threw him on the

ground, at the same time possessing himself of the colonel's sword.

As soon as the colonel was become master of his speech, he called out

to Booth in a very kind voice, and said, "You have done my business,

and satisfied me that you are a man of honour, and that my brother

James must have been mistaken; for I am convinced that no man who will

draw his sword in so gallant a manner is capable of being a rascal.

D--n me, give me a buss, my dear boy; I ask your pardon for that

infamous appellation I dishonoured your dignity with; but d--n me if

it was not purely out of love, and to give you an opportunity of doing

yourself justice, which I own you have done like a man of honour. What

may be the consequence I know not, but I hope, at least, I shall live

to reconcile you with my brother."

Booth shewed great concern, and even horror in his countenance. "Why,

my dear colonel," said he, "would you force me to this? for Heaven's

sake tell me what I have ever done to offend you."

"Me!" cried the colonel. "Indeed, my dear child, you never did

anything to offend me.--Nay, I have acted the part of a friend to you

in the whole affair. I maintained your cause with my brother as long

as decency would permit; I could not flatly contradict him, though,

indeed, I scarce believed him. But what could I do? If I had not

fought with you, I must have been obliged to have fought with him;

however, I hope what is done will be sufficient, and that matters may

be discomodated without your being put to the necessity of fighting

any more on this occasion."

"Never regard me," cried Booth eagerly; "for Heaven's sake, think of

your own preservation. Let me put you into a chair, and get you a

surgeon."

"Thou art a noble lad," cries the colonel, who was now got on his

legs, "and I am glad the business is so well over; for, though your

sword went quite through, it slanted so that I apprehend there is

little danger of life: however, I think there is enough done to put an

honourable end to the affair, especially as you was so hasty to disarm

me. I bleed a little, but I can walk to the house by the water; and,

if you will send me a chair thither, I shall be obliged to you."

As the colonel refused any assistance (indeed he was very able to walk

without it, though with somewhat less dignity than usual), Booth set

forward to Grosvenor-gate, in order to procure the chair, and soon

after returned with one to his friend; whom having conveyed into it,

he attended himself on foot into Bond-street, where then lived a very

eminent surgeon.

The surgeon having probed the wound, turned towards Booth, who was

apparently the guilty person, and said, with a smile, "Upon my word,

sir, you have performed the business with great dexterity."

"Sir," cries the colonel to the surgeon, "I would not have you imagine

I am afraid to die. I think I know more what belongs to the dignity of

a man; and, I believe, I have shewn it at the head of a line of

battle. Do not impute my concern to that fear, when I ask you whether

there is or is not any danger?"

"Really, colonel," answered the surgeon, who well knew the complexion

of the gentleman then under his hands, "it would appear like

presumption to say that a man who hath been just run through the body

is in no manner of danger. But this I think I may assure you, that I

yet perceive no very bad symptoms, and, unless something worse should

appear, or a fever be the consequence, I hope you may live to be

again, with all your dignity, at the head of a line of battle."

"I am glad to hear that is your opinion," quoth the colonel, "for I am

not desirous of dying, though I am not afraid of it. But, if anything

worse than you apprehend should happen, I desire you will be a witness

of my declaration that this young gentleman is entirely innocent. I

forced him to do what he did. My dear Booth, I am pleased matters are

as they are. You are the first man that ever gained an advantage over

me; but it was very lucky for you that you disarmed me, and I doubt

not but you have the equananimity to think so. If the business,

therefore, hath ended without doing anything to the purpose, it was

Fortune's pleasure, and neither of our faults."

Booth heartily embraced the colonel, and assured him of the great

satisfaction he had received from the surgeon's opinion; and soon

after the two combatants took their leave of each other. The colonel,

after he was drest, went in a chair to his lodgings, and Booth walked

on foot to his; where he luckily arrived without meeting any of Mr.

Murphy's gang; a danger which never once occurred to his imagination

till he was out of it.

The affair he had been about had indeed so entirely occupied his mind,

that it had obliterated every other idea; among the rest, it caused

him so absolutely to forget the time of the day, that, though he had

exceeded the time of dining above two hours, he had not the least

suspicion of being at home later than usual.

Chapter vi.

_In which the reader will find matter worthy his consideration._

Amelia, having waited above an hour for her husband, concluded, as he

was the most punctual man alive, that he had met with some engagement

abroad, and sat down to her meal with her children; which, as it was

always uncomfortable in the absence of her husband, was very short; so

that, before his return, all the apparatus of dining was entirely

removed.

Booth sat some time with his wife, expecting every minute when the

little maid would make her appearance; at last, curiosity, I believe,

rather than appetite, made him ask how long it was to dinner? "To

dinner, my dear!" answered Amelia; "sure you have dined, I hope?"

Booth replied in the negative; upon which his wife started from her

chair, and bestirred herself as nimbly to provide him a repast as the

most industrious hostess in the kingdom doth when some unexpected

guest of extraordinary quality arrives at her house.

The reader hath not, I think, from any passages hitherto recorded in

this history, had much reason to accuse Amelia of a blameable

curiosity; he will not, I hope, conclude that she gave an instance of

any such fault when, upon Booth's having so long overstayed his time,

and so greatly mistaken the hour of the day, and upon some other

circumstances of his behaviour (for he was too honest to be good at

concealing any of his thoughts), she said to him after he had done

eating, "My dear, I am sure something more than ordinary hath happened

to-day, and I beg you will tell me what is."

Booth answered that nothing of any consequence had happened; that he

had been detained by a friend, whom he met accidently, longer than he

expected. In short, he made many shuffling and evasive answers, not

boldly lying out, which, perhaps, would have succeeded, but poorly and

vainly endeavouring to reconcile falsehood with truth; an attempt

which seldom fails to betray the most practised deceiver.

How impossible was it therefore for poor Booth to succeed in an art

for which nature had so entirely disqualified him. His countenance,

indeed, confessed faster than his tongue denied, and the whole of his

behaviour gave Amelia an alarm, and made her suspect something very

bad had happened; and, as her thoughts turned presently on the badness

of their circumstances, she feared some mischief from his creditors

had befallen him; for she was too ignorant of such matters to know

that, if he had fallen into the hands of the Philistines (which is the

name given by the faithful to bailiffs), he would hardly have been

able so soon to recover his liberty. Booth at last perceived her to be

so uneasy, that, as he saw no hopes of contriving any fiction to

satisfy her, he thought himself obliged to tell her the truth, or at

least part of the truth, and confessed that he had had a little

skirmish with Colonel Bath, in which, he said, the colonel had

received a slight wound, not at all dangerous; "and this," says he,

"is all the whole matter." "If it be so," cries Amelia, "I thank

Heaven no worse hath happened; but why, my dear, will you ever

converse with that madman, who can embrace a friend one moment, and

fight with him the next?" "Nay, my dear," answered Booth, "you

yourself must confess, though he be a little too much on the _qui

vive,_ he is a man of great honour and good-nature." "Tell me not,"

replied she, "of such good-nature and honour as would sacrifice a

friend and a whole family to a ridiculous whim. Oh, Heavens!" cried

she, falling upon her knees, "from what misery have I escaped, from

what have these poor babes escaped, through your gracious providence

this day!" Then turning to her husband, she cried, "But are you sure

the monster's wound is no more dangerous than you say? a monster

surely I may call him, who can quarrel with a man that could not, that

I am convinced would not, offend him."

Upon this question, Booth repeated the assurances which the surgeon

had given them, perhaps with a little enlargement, which pretty well

satisfied Amelia; and instead of blaming her husband for what he had

done, she tenderly embraced him, and again returned thanks to Heaven

for his safety.

In the evening Booth insisted on paying a short visit to the colonel,

highly against the inclination of Amelia, who, by many arguments and

entreaties, endeavoured to dissuade her husband from continuing an

acquaintance in which, she said, she should always foresee much danger

for the future. However, she was at last prevailed upon to acquiesce;

and Booth went to the colonel, whose lodgings happened to be in the

verge as well as his own.

He found the colonel in his night-gown, and his great chair, engaged

with another officer at a game of chess. He rose immediately, and,

having heartily embraced Booth, presented him to his friend, saying,

he had the honour to introduce to him as brave and as _fortitudinous_

a man as any in the king's dominions. He then took Booth with him into

the next room, and desired him not to mention a word of what had

happened in the morning; saying, "I am very well satisfied that no

more hath happened; however, as it ended in nothing, I could wish it

might remain a secret." Booth told him he was heartily glad to find

him so well, and promised never to mention it more to any one.

The game at chess being but just begun, and neither of the parties

having gained any considerable advantage, they neither of them

insisted on continuing it; and now the colonel's antagonist took his

leave and left the colonel and Booth together.

As soon as they were alone, the latter earnestly entreated the former

to acquaint him with the real cause of his anger; "for may I perish,"

cries Booth, "if I can even guess what I have ever done to offend

either you, or your brother. Colonel James."

"Look'ee, child," cries the colonel; "I tell you I am for my own part

satisfied; for I am convinced that a man who will fight can never be a

rascal; and, therefore, why should you enquire any more of me at

present? when I see my brother James, I hope to reconcile all matters,

and perhaps no more swords need be drawn on this occasion." But Booth

still persisting in his desire, the colonel, after some hesitation,

with a tremendous oath, cried out, "I do not think myself at liberty

to refuse you after the indignity I offered you; so, since you demand

it of me, I will inform you. My brother told me you had used him

dishonourably, and had divellicated his character behind his back. He

gave me his word, too, that he was well assured of what he said. What

could I have done? though I own to you I did not believe him, and your

behaviour since hath convinced me I was in the right; I must either

have given him the lye, and fought with him, or else I was obliged to

behave as I did, and fight with you. And now, my lad, I leave it to

you to do as you please; but, if you are laid under any necessity to

do yourself further justice, it is your own fault."

"Alas! colonel," answered Booth, "besides the obligations I have to

the colonel, I have really so much love for him, that I think of

nothing less than resentment. All I wish is to have this affair

brought to an eclaircissement, and to satisfy him that he is in an

error; for, though his assertions are cruelly injurious, and I have

never deserved them, yet I am convinced he would not say what he did

not himself think. Some rascal, envious of his friendship for me, hath

belyed me to him; and the only resentment I desire is, to convince him

of his mistake."

At these words the colonel grinned horribly a ghastly smile, or rather

sneer, and answered, "Young gentleman, you may do as you please; but,

by the eternal dignity of man, if any man breathing had taken a

liberty with my character--Here, here--Mr. Booth (shewing his

fingers), here d--n me, should be his nostrils; he should breathe

through my hands, and breathe his last, d--n me."

Booth answered, "I think, colonel, I may appeal to your testimony that

I dare do myself justice; since he who dare draw his sword against you

can hardly be supposed to fear any other person; but I repeat to you

again that I love Colonel James so well, and am so greatly obliged to

him, that it would be almost indifferent to me whether I directed my

sword against his breast or my own."

The colonel's muscles were considerably softened by Booth's last

speech; but he again contracted them into a vast degree of fierceness

before he cried out--"Boy, thou hast reason enough to be vain; for

thou art the first person that ever could proudly say he gained an

advantage over me in combat. I believe, indeed, thou art not afraid of

any man breathing, and, as I know thou hast some obligations to my

brother, I do not discommend thee; for nothing more becomes the

dignity of a man than gratitude. Besides, as I am satisfied my brother

can produce the author of the slander--I say, I am satisfied of that--

d--n me, if any man alive dares assert the contrary; for that would be

to make my brother himself a liar--I will make him produce his author;

and then, my dear boy, your doing yourself proper justice there will

bring you finely out of the whole affair. As soon as my surgeon gives

me leave to go abroad, which, I hope, will be in a few days, I will

bring my brother James to a tavern where you shall meet us; and I will

engage my honour, my whole dignity to you, to make you friends."

The assurance of the colonel gave Booth great pleasure; for few

persons ever loved a friend better than he did James; and as for doing

military justice on the author of that scandalous report which had

incensed his friend against him, not Bath himself was ever more ready,

on such an occasion, than Booth to execute it. He soon after took his

leave, and returned home in high spirits to his Amelia, whom he found

in Mrs. Ellison's apartment, engaged in a party at ombre with that

lady and her right honourable cousin.

His lordship had, it seems, had a second interview with the great man,

and, having obtained further hopes (for I think there was not yet an

absolute promise) of success in Mr. Booth's affairs, his usual good-

nature brought him immediately to acquaint Mr. Booth with it. As he

did not therefore find him at home, and as he met with the two ladies

together, he resolved to stay till his friend's return, which he was

assured would not be long, especially as he was so lucky, he said, to

have no particular engagement that whole evening.

We remarked before that his lordship, at the first interview with

Amelia, had distinguished her by a more particular address from the

other ladies; but that now appeared to be rather owing to his perfect

good-breeding, as she was then to be considered as the mistress of the

house, than from any other preference. His present behaviour made this

still more manifest; for, as he was now in Mrs. Ellison's apartment,

though she was his relation and an old acquaintance, he applied his

conversation rather more to her than to Amelia. His eyes, indeed, were

now and then guilty of the contrary distinction, but this was only by

stealth; for they constantly withdrew the moment they were discovered.

In short, he treated Amelia with the greatest distance, and at the

same time with the most profound and awful respect; his conversation

was so general, so lively, and so obliging, that Amelia, when she

added to his agreeableness the obligations she had to him for his

friendship to Booth, was certainly as much pleased with his lordship

as any virtuous woman can possibly be with any man, besides her own

husband.

Chapter VII.

_Containing various matters._

We have already mentioned the good-humour in which Booth returned

home; and the reader will easily believe it was not a little encreased

by the good-humour in which he found his company. My lord received him

with the utmost marks of friendship and affection, and told him that

his affairs went on as well almost as he himself could desire, and

that he doubted not very soon to wish him joy of a company.

When Booth had made a proper return to all his lordship's unparalleled

goodness, he whispered Amelia that the colonel was entirely out of

danger, and almost as well as himself. This made her satisfaction

complete, threw her into such spirits, and gave such a lustre to her

eyes, that her face, as Horace says, was too dazzling to be looked at;

it was certainly too handsome to be looked at without the highest

admiration.

His lordship departed about ten o'clock, and left the company in

raptures with him, especially the two ladies, of whom it is difficult

to say which exceeded the other in his commendations. Mrs. Ellison

swore she believed he was the best of all humankind; and Amelia,

without making any exception, declared he was the finest gentleman and

most agreeable man she had ever seen in her life; adding, it was great

pity he should remain single. "That's true, indeed," cries Mrs.

Ellison, "and I have often lamented it; nay, I am astonished at it,

considering the great liking he always shews for our sex, and he may

certainly have the choice of all. The real reason, I believe, is, his

fondness for his sister's children. I declare, madam, if you was to

see his behaviour to them, you would think they were his own. Indeed

he is vastly fond of all manner of children." "Good creature!" cries

Amelia; "if ever he doth me the honour of another visit I am resolved

I will shew him my little things. I think, Mrs. Ellison, as you say my

lord loves children, I may say, without vanity, he will not see many

such." "No, indeed, will he not," answered Mrs. Ellison: "and now I

think on't, madam, I wonder at my own stupidity in never making the

offer before; but since you put it into my head, if you will give me

leave, I'll take master and miss to wait on my lord's nephew and

niece. They are very pretty behaved children; and little master and

miss will be, I dare swear, very happy in their acquaintance; besides,

if my lord himself should see them, I know what will happen; for he is

the most generous of all human beings."

Amelia very readily accepted the favour which Mrs. Ellison offered

her; but Booth exprest some reluctance. "Upon my word, my dear," said

he, with a smile, "this behaviour of ours puts me in mind of the

common conduct of beggars; who, whenever they receive a favour, are

sure to send other objects to the same fountain of charity. Don't we,

my dear, repay our obligations to my lord in the same manner, by

sending our children a begging to him?"

"O beastly!" cries Mrs. Ellison; "how could such a thought enter your

brains? I protest, madam, I begin to grow ashamed of this husband of

yours. How can you have so vulgar a way of thinking? Begging, indeed!

the poor little dear things a begging! If my lord was capable of such

a thought, though he was my own brother instead of my cousin, I should

scorn him too much ever to enter his doors." "O dear madam!" answered

Amelia, "you take Mr. Booth too seriously, when he was only in jest;

and the children shall wait upon you whenever you please."

Though Booth had been a little more in earnest than Amelia had

represented him, and was not, perhaps, quite so much in the wrong as

he was considered by Mrs. Ellison, yet, seeing there were two to one

against him, he wisely thought proper to recede, and let his simile go

off with that air of a jest which his wife had given it.

Mrs. Ellison, however, could not let it pass without paying some

compliments to Amelia's understanding, nor without some obscure

reflexions upon Booth, with whom she was more offended than the matter

required. She was indeed a woman of most profuse generosity, and could

not bear a thought which she deemed vulgar or sneaking. She afterwards

launched forth the most profuse encomiums of his lordship's

liberality, and concluded the evening with some instances which he had

given of that virtue which, if not the noblest, is, perhaps, one of

the most useful to society with which great and rich men can be

endowed.

The next morning early, serjeant Atkinson came to wait on lieutenant

Booth, and desired to speak with his honour in private. Upon which the

lieutenant and serjeant took a walk together in the Park. Booth

expected every minute when the serjeant would open his mouth; under

which expectation he continued till he came to the end of the mall,

and so he might have continued till he came to the end of the world;

for, though several words stood at the end of the serjeant's lips,

there they were likely to remain for ever. He was, indeed, in the

condition of a miser, whom a charitable impulse hath impelled to draw

a few pence to the edge of his pocket, where they are altogether as

secure as if they were in the bottom; for, as the one hath not the

heart to part with a farthing, so neither had the other the heart to

speak a word.

Booth at length, wondering that the serjeant did not speak, asked him,

What his business was? when the latter with a stammering voice began

the following apology: "I hope, sir, your honour will not be angry,

nor take anything amiss of me. I do assure you, it was not of my

seeking, nay, I dare not proceed in the matter without first asking

your leave. Indeed, if I had taken any liberties from the goodness you

have been pleased to shew me, I should look upon myself as one of the

most worthless and despicable of wretches; but nothing is farther from

my thoughts. I know the distance which is between us; and, because

your honour hath been so kind and good as to treat me with more

familiarity than any other officer ever did, if I had been base enough

to take any freedoms, or to encroach upon your honour's goodness, I

should deserve to be whipt through the regiment. I hope, therefore,

sir, you will not suspect me of any such attempt."

"What can all this mean, Atkinson?" cries Booth; "what mighty matter

would you introduce with all this previous apology?"

"I am almost ashamed and afraid to mention it," answered the serjeant;

"and yet I am sure your honour will believe what I have said, and not

think anything owing to my own presumption; and, at the same time, I

have no reason to think you would do anything to spoil my fortune in

an honest way, when it is dropt into my lap without my own seeking.

For may I perish if it is not all the lady's own goodness, and I hope

in Heaven, with your honour's leave, I shall live to make her amends

for it." In a word, that we may not detain the reader's curiosity

quite so long as he did Booth's, he acquainted that gentleman that he

had had an offer of marriage from a lady of his acquaintance, to whose

company he had introduced him, and desired his permission to accept of

it.

Booth must have been very dull indeed if, after what the serjeant had

said, and after what he had heard Mrs. Ellison say, he had wanted any

information concerning the lady. He answered him briskly and

chearfully, that he had his free consent to marry any woman whatever;

"and the greater and richer she is," added he, "the more I shall be

pleased with the match. I don't enquire who the lady is," said he,

smiling, "but I hope she will make as good a wife as, I am convinced,

her husband will deserve."

"Your honour hath been always too good to me," cries Atkinson; "but

this I promise you, I will do all in my power to merit the kindness

she is pleased to shew me. I will be bold to say she will marry an

honest man, though he is but a poor one; and she shall never want

anything which I can give her or do for her, while my name is Joseph

Atkinson."

"And so her name is a secret, Joe, is it?" cries Booth.

"Why, sir," answered the serjeant, "I hope your honour will not insist

upon knowing that, as I think it would be dishonourable in me to

mention it."

"Not at all," replied Booth; "I am the farthest in the world from any

such desire. I know thee better than to imagine thou wouldst disclose

the name of a fair lady." Booth then shook Atkinson heartily by the

hand, and assured him earnestly of the joy he had in his good fortune;

for which the good serjeant failed not of making all proper

acknowledgments. After which they parted, and Booth returned home.

As Mrs. Ellison opened the door, Booth hastily rushed by; for he had

the utmost difficulty to prevent laughing in her face. He ran directly

up-stairs, and, throwing himself into a chair, discharged such a fit

of laughter as greatly surprized, and at first almost frightened, his

wife.

Amelia, it will be supposed, presently enquired into the cause of this

phenomenon, with which Booth, as soon as he was able (for that was not

within a few minutes), acquainted her. The news did not affect her in

the same manner it had affected her husband. On the contrary, she

cried, "I protest I cannot guess what makes you see it in so

ridiculous a light. I really think Mrs. Ellison hath chosen very well.

I am convinced Joe will make her one of the best of husbands; and, in

my opinion, that is the greatest blessing a woman can be possessed

of."

However, when Mrs. Ellison came into her room a little while

afterwards to fetch the children, Amelia became of a more risible

disposition, especially when the former, turning to Booth, who was

then present, said, "So, captain, my jantee-serjeant was very early

here this morning. I scolded my maid heartily for letting him wait so

long in the entry like a lacquais, when she might have shewn him into

my inner apartment." At which words Booth burst out into a very loud

laugh; and Amelia herself could no more prevent laughing than she

could blushing.

"Heyday!" cries Mrs. Ellison; "what have I said to cause all this

mirth?" and at the same time blushed, and looked very silly, as is

always the case with persons who suspect themselves to be the objects

of laughter, without absolutely taking what it is which makes them

ridiculous.

Booth still continued laughing; but Amelia, composing her muscles,

said, "I ask your pardon, dear Mrs. Ellison; but Mr. Booth hath been

in a strange giggling humour all this morning; and I really think it

is infectious."

"I ask your pardon, too, madam," cries Booth, "but one is sometimes

unaccountably foolish."

"Nay, but seriously," said she, "what is the matter?--something I said

about the serjeant, I believe; but you may laugh as much as you

please; I am not ashamed of owning I think him one of the prettiest

fellows I ever saw in my life; and, I own, I scolded my maid at

suffering him to wait in my entry; and where is the mighty ridiculous

matter, pray?"

"None at all," answered Booth; "and I hope the next time he will be

ushered into your inner apartment."

"Why should he not, sir?" replied she, "for, wherever he is ushered, I

am convinced he will behave himself as a gentleman should."

Here Amelia put an end to the discourse, or it might have proceeded to

very great lengths; for Booth was of a waggish inclination, and Mrs.

Ellison was not a lady of the nicest delicacy.

Chapter VIII.

_The heroic behaviour of Colonel Bath._

Booth went this morning to pay a second visit to the colonel, where he

found Colonel James. Both the colonel and the lieutenant appeared a

little shocked at their first meeting, but matters were soon cleared

up; for the former presently advanced to the latter, shook him

heartily by the hand, and said, "Mr. Booth, I am ashamed to see you;

for I have injured you, and I heartily ask your pardon. I am now

perfectly convinced that what I hinted to my brother, and which I find

had like to have produced such fatal consequences, was entirely

groundless. If you will be contented with my asking your pardon, and

spare me the disagreeable remembrance of what led me into my error, I

shall esteem it as the highest obligation."

Booth answered, "As to what regards yourself, my dear colonel, I am

abundantly satisfied; but, as I am convinced some rascal hath been my

enemy with you in the cruellest manner, I hope you will not deny me

the opportunity of kicking him through the world."

"By all the dignity of man," cries Colonel Bath, "the boy speaks with

spirit, and his request is reasonable."

Colonel James hesitated a moment, and then whispered Booth that he

would give him all the satisfaction imaginable concerning the whole

affair when they were alone together; upon which, Booth addressing

himself to Colonel Bath, the discourse turned on other matters during

the remainder of the visit, which was but short, and then both went

away together, leaving Colonel Bath as well as it was possible to

expect, more to the satisfaction of Booth than of Colonel James, who

would not have been displeased if his wound had been more dangerous;

for he was grown somewhat weary of a disposition that he rather called

captious than heroic, and which, as he every day more and more hated

his wife, he apprehended might some time or other give him some

trouble; for Bath was the most affectionate of brothers, and had often

swore, in the presence of James, that he would eat any man alive who

should use his sister ill.

Colonel Bath was well satisfied that his brother and the lieutenant

were gone out with a design of tilting, from which he offered not a

syllable to dissuade them, as he was convinced it was right, and that

Booth could not in honour take, nor the colonel give, any less

satisfaction. When they had been gone therefore about half an hour, he

rang his bell to enquire if there was any news of his brother; a

question which he repeated every ten minutes for the space of two

hours, when, having heard nothing of him, he began to conclude that

both were killed on the spot.

While he was in this state of anxiety his sister came to see him; for,

notwithstanding his desire of keeping it a secret, the duel had blazed

all over the town. After receiving some kind congratulations on his

safety, and some unkind hints concerning the warmth of his temper, the

colonel asked her when she had seen her husband? she answered not that

morning. He then communicated to her his suspicion, told her he was

convinced his brother had drawn his sword that day, and that, as

neither of them had heard anything from him, he began to apprehend the

worst that could happen.

Neither Miss Bellamy nor Mrs. Gibber were ever in a greater

consternation on the stage than now appeared in the countenance of

Mrs. James. "Good Heavens! brother," cries she; "what do you tell me?

you have frightened me to death. Let your man get me a glass of water

immediately, if you have not a mind to see me die before your face.

When, where, how was this quarrel? why did you not prevent it if you

knew of it? is it not enough to be every day tormenting me with

hazarding your own life, but must you bring the life of one who you

know must be, and ought to be, so much the dearest of all to me, into

danger? take your sword, brother, take your sword, and plunge it into

my bosom; it would be kinder of you than to fill it with such dreads

and terrors." Here she swallowed the glass of water, and then threw

herself back in her chair, as if she had intended to faint away.

Perhaps, if she had so, the colonel would have lent her no assistance,

for she had hurt him more than by ten thousand stabs. He sat erect in

his chair, with his eyebrows knit, his forehead wrinkled, his eyes

flashing fire, his teeth grating against each other, and breathing

horrour all round him. In this posture he sat for some time silent,

casting disdainful looks at his sister. At last his voice found its

way through a passion which had almost choaked him, and he cried out,

"Sister, what have I done to deserve the opinion you express of me?

which of my actions hath made you conclude that I am a rascal and a

coward? look at that poor sword, which never woman yet saw but in its

sheath; what hath that done to merit your desire that it should be

contaminated with the blood of a woman?"

"Alas! brother," cried she, "I know not what you say; you are

desirous, I believe, to terrify me out of the little senses I have

left. What can I have said, in the agonies of grief into which you

threw me, to deserve this passion?"

"What have you said?" answered the colonel: "you have said that which,

if a man had spoken, nay, d--n me, if he had but hinted that he durst

even think, I would have made him eat my sword; by all the dignity of

man, I would have crumbled his soul into powder. But I consider that

the words were spoken by a woman, and I am calm again. Consider, my

dear, that you are my sister, and behave yourself with more spirit. I

have only mentioned to you my surmise. It may not have happened as I

suspect; but, let what will have happened, you will have the comfort

that your husband hath behaved himself with becoming dignity, and lies

in the bed of honour."

"Talk not to me of such comfort," replied the lady; "it is a loss I

cannot survive. But why do I sit here lamenting myself? I will go this

instant and know the worst of my fate, if my trembling limbs will

carry me to my coach. Good morrow, dear brother; whatever becomes of

me, I am glad to find you out of danger." The colonel paid her his

proper compliments, and she then left the room, but returned instantly

back, saying, "Brother, I must beg the favour of you to let your

footman step to my mantua-maker; I am sure it is a miracle, in my

present distracted condition, how it came into my head." The footman

was presently summoned, and Mrs. James delivered him his message,

which was to countermand the orders which she had given that very

morning to make her up a new suit of brocade. "Heaven knows," says

she, "now when I can wear brocade, or whether ever I shall wear it."

And now, having repeated her message with great exactness, lest there

should be any mistake, she again lamented her wretched situation, and

then departed, leaving the colonel in full expectation of hearing

speedy news of the fatal issue of the battle.

But, though the reader should entertain the same curiosity, we must be

excused from satisfying it till we have first accounted for an

incident which we have related in this very chapter, and which, we

think, deserves some solution. The critic, I am convinced, already is

apprized that I mean the friendly behaviour of James to Booth, which,

from what we had before recorded, seemed so little to be expected.

It must be remembered that the anger which the former of these

gentlemen had conceived against the latter arose entirely from the

false account given by Miss Matthews of Booth, whom that lady had

accused to Colonel James of having as basely as wickedly traduced his

character.

Now, of all the ministers of vengeance, there are none with whom the

devil deals so treacherously as with those whom he employs in

executing the mischievous purposes of an angry mistress; for no sooner

is revenge executed on an offending lover that it is sure to be

repented; and all the anger which before raged against the beloved

object, returns with double fury on the head of his assassin.

Miss Matthews, therefore, no, sooner heard that Booth was killed (for

so was the report at first, and by a colonel of the army) than she

immediately concluded it to be James. She was extremely shocked with

the news, and her heart instantly began to relent. All the reasons on

which she had founded her love recurred, in the strongest and

liveliest colours, to her mind, and all the causes of her hatred sunk

down and disappeared; or, if the least remembrance of anything which

had disobliged her remained, her heart became his zealous advocate,

and soon satisfied her that her own fates were more to be blamed than

he, and that, without being a villain, he could have acted no

otherwise than he had done.

In this temper of mind she looked on herself as the murderer of an

innocent man, and, what to her was much worse, of the man she had

loved, and still did love, with all the violence imaginable. She

looked on James as the tool with which she had done this murder; and,

as it is usual for people who have rashly or inadvertently made any

animate or inanimate thing the instrument of mischief to hate the

innocent means by which the mischief was effected (for this is a

subtle method which the mind invents to excuse ourselves, the last

objects on whom we would willingly wreak our vengeance), so Miss

Matthews now hated and cursed James as the efficient cause of that act

which she herself had contrived and laboured to carry into execution.

She sat down therefore in a furious agitation, little short of

madness, and wrote the following letter:

"I Hope this will find you in the hands of justice, for the murder of

one of the best friends that ever man was blest with. In one sense,

indeed, he may seem to have deserved his fate, by chusing a fool for a

friend; for who but a fool would have believed what the anger and rage

of an injured woman suggested; a story so improbable, that I could

scarce be thought in earnest when I mentioned it?

"Know, then, cruel wretch, that poor Booth loved you of all men

breathing, and was, I believe, in your commendation guilty of as much

falsehood as I was in what I told you concerning him.

"If this knowledge makes you miserable, it is no more than you have

made the unhappy

F. MATTHEWS."

Chapter ix.

_Being the last chapter of the fifth book._

We shall now return to Colonel James and Mr. Booth, who walked

together from Colonel Bath's lodging with much more peaceable

intention than that gentleman had conjectured, who dreamt of nothing

but swords and guns and implements of wars.

The Birdcage-walk in the Park was the scene appointed by James for

unburthening his mind.--Thither they came, and there James acquainted

Booth with all that which the reader knows already, and gave him the

letter which we have inserted at the end of the last chapter.

Booth exprest great astonishment at this relation, not without venting

some detestation of the wickedness of Miss Matthews; upon which James

took him up, saying, he ought not to speak with such abhorrence of

faults which love for him had occasioned.

"Can you mention love, my dear colonel," cried Booth, "and such a

woman in the same breath?"

"Yes, faith! can I," says James; "for the devil take me if I know a

more lovely woman in the world." Here he began to describe her whole

person; but, as we cannot insert all the description, so we shall omit

it all; and concluded with saying, "Curse me if I don't think her the

finest creature in the universe. I would give half my estate, Booth,

she loved me as well as she doth you. Though, on second consideration,

I believe I should repent that bargain; for then, very possibly, I

should not care a farthing for her."

"You will pardon me, dear colonel," answered Booth; "but to me there

appears somewhat very singular in your way of thinking. Beauty is

indeed the object of liking, great qualities of admiration, good ones

of esteem; but the devil take me if I think anything but love to be

the object of love."

"Is there not something too selfish," replied James, "in that opinion?

but, without considering it in that light, is it not of all things the

most insipid? all oil! all sugar! zounds! it is enough to cloy the

sharp-set appetite of a parson. Acids surely are the most likely to

quicken."

"I do not love reasoning in allegories," cries Booth; "but with regard

to love, I declare I never found anything cloying in it. I have lived

almost alone with my wife near three years together, was never tired

with her company, nor ever wished for any other; and I am sure I never

tasted any of the acid you mention to quicken my appetite."

"This is all very extraordinary and romantic to me," answered the

colonel. "If I was to be shut up three years with the same woman,

which Heaven forbid! nothing, I think, could keep me alive but a

temper as violent as that of Miss Matthews. As to love, it would make

me sick to death in the twentieth part of that time. If I was so

condemned, let me see, what would I wish the woman to be? I think no

one virtue would be sufficient. With the spirit of a tigress I would

have her be a prude, a scold, a scholar, a critic, a wit, a

politician, and a Jacobite; and then, perhaps, eternal opposition

would keep up our spirits; and, wishing one another daily at the

devil, we should make a shift to drag on a damnable state of life,

without much spleen or vapours."

"And so you do not intend," cries Booth, "to break with this woman?"

"Not more than I have already, if I can help it," answered the

colonel.

"And you will be reconciled to her?" said Booth.

"Yes, faith! will I, if I can," answered the colonel; "I hope you have

no objection."

"None, my dear friend," said Booth, "unless on your account."

"I do believe you," said the colonel: "and yet, let me tell you, you

are a very extraordinary man, not to desire me to quit her on your own

account. Upon my soul, I begin to pity the woman, who hath placed her

affection, perhaps, on the only man in England of your age who would

not return it. But for my part, I promise you, I like her beyond all

other women; and, whilst that is the case, my boy, if her mind was as

full of iniquity as Pandora's box was of diseases, I'd hug her close

in my arms, and only take as much care as possible to keep the lid

down for fear of mischief. But come, dear Booth," said he, "let us

consider your affairs; for I am ashamed of having neglected them so

long; and the only anger I have against this wench is, that she was

the occasion of it."

Booth then acquainted the colonel with the promises he had received

from the noble lord, upon which James shook him by the hand, and

heartily wished him joy, crying, "I do assure you, if you have his

interest, you will need no other; I did not know you was acquainted

with him."

To which Mr. Booth answered, "That he was but a new acquaintance, and

that he was recommended to him by a lady."

"A lady!" cries the colonel; "well, I don't ask her name. You are a

happy man, Booth, amongst the women; and, I assure you, you could have

no stronger recommendation. The peer loves the ladies, I believe, as

well as ever Mark Antony did; and it is not his fault if he hath not

spent as much upon them. If he once fixes his eye upon a woman, he

will stick at nothing to get her."

"Ay, indeed!" cries Booth. "Is that his character?"

"Ay, faith," answered the colonel, "and the character of most men

besides him. Few of them, I mean, will stick at anything beside their

money. Jusque a la Bourse is sometimes the boundary of love as well as

friendship. And, indeed, I never knew any other man part with his

money so very freely on these occasions. You see, dear Booth, the

confidence I have in your honour."

"I hope, indeed, you have," cries Booth, "but I don't see what

instance you now give me of that confidence."

"Have not I shewn you," answered James, "where you may carry your

goods to market? I can assure you, my friend, that is a secret I would

not impart to every man in your situation, and all circumstances

considered."

"I am very sorry, sir," cries Booth very gravely, and turning as pale

as death, "you should entertain a thought of this kind; a thought

which hath almost frozen up my blood. I am unwilling to believe there

are such villains in the world; but there is none of them whom I

should detest half so much as myself, if my own mind had ever

suggested to me a hint of that kind. I have tasted of some distresses

of life, and I know not to what greater I may be driven, but my

honour, I thank Heaven, is in my own power, and I can boldly say to

Fortune she shall not rob me of it."

"Have I not exprest that confidence, my dear Booth?" answered the

colonel. "And what you say now well justifies my opinion; for I do

agree with you that, considering all things, it would be the highest

instance of dishonour."

"Dishonour, indeed!" returned Booth. "What! to prostitute my wife! Can

I think there is such a wretch breathing?"

"I don't know that," said the colonel, "but I am sure it was very far

from my intention to insinuate the least hint of any such matter to

you. Nor can I imagine how you yourself could conceive such a thought.

The goods I meant were no other than the charming person of Miss

Matthews, for whom I am convinced my lord would bid a swinging price

against me."

Booth's countenance greatly cleared up at this declaration, and he

answered with a smile, that he hoped he need not give the colonel any

assurances on that head. However, though he was satisfied with regard

to the colonel's suspicions, yet some chimeras now arose in his brain

which gave him no very agreeable sensations. What these were, the

sagacious reader may probably suspect; but, if he should not, we may

perhaps have occasion to open them in the sequel. Here we will put an

end to this dialogue, and to the fifth book of this history.

BOOK VI.

Chapter i.

_Panegyrics on beauty, with other grave matters._

The colonel and Booth walked together to the latter's lodging, for as

it was not that day in the week in which all parts of the town are

indifferent, Booth could not wait on the colonel.

When they arrived in Spring-garden, Booth, to his great surprize,

found no one at home but the maid. In truth, Amelia had accompanied

Mrs. Ellison and her children to his lordship's; for, as her little

girl showed a great unwillingness to go without her, the fond mother

was easily persuaded to make one of the company.

Booth had scarce ushered the colonel up to his apartment when a

servant from Mrs. James knocked hastily at the door. The lady, not

meeting with her husband at her return home, began to despair of him,

and performed everything which was decent on the occasion. An

apothecary was presently called with hartshorn and sal volatile, a

doctor was sent for, and messengers were despatched every way; amongst

the rest, one was sent to enquire at the lodgings of his supposed

antagonist.

The servant hearing that his master was alive and well above-stairs,

ran up eagerly to acquaint him with the dreadful situation in which he

left his miserable lady at home, and likewise with the occasion of all

her distress, saying, that his lady had been at her brother's, and had

there heard that his honour was killed in a duel by Captain Booth.

The colonel smiled at this account, and bid the servant make haste

back to contradict it. And then turning to Booth, he said, "Was there

ever such another fellow as this brother of mine? I thought indeed,

his behaviour was somewhat odd at the time. I suppose he overheard me

whisper that I would give you satisfaction, and thence concluded we

went together with a design of tilting. D--n the fellow, I begin to

grow heartily sick of him, and wish I could get well rid of him

without cutting his throat, which I sometimes apprehend he will insist

on my doing, as a return for my getting him made a lieutenant-

colonel."

Whilst these two gentlemen were commenting on the character of the

third, Amelia and her company returned, and all presently came up-

stairs, not only the children, but the two ladies, laden with trinkets

as if they had been come from a fair. Amelia, who had been highly

delighted all the morning with the excessive pleasure which her

children enjoyed, when she saw Colonel James with her husband, and

perceived the most manifest marks of that reconciliation which she

knew had been so long and so earnestly wished by Booth, became so

transported with joy, that her happiness was scarce capable of

addition. Exercise had painted her face with vermilion; and the

highest good-humour had so sweetened every feature, and a vast flow of

spirits had so lightened up her bright eyes, that she was all a blaze

of beauty. She seemed, indeed, as Milton sublimely describes Eve,

--Adorn'd

With what all Earth or Heaven could bestow

To make her amiable.

Again:--

Grace was in all her steps, Heaven in her eye,

In every gesture, dignity and love.

Or, as Waller sweetly, though less sublimely sings:--

Sweetness, truth, and every grace

Which time and use are wont to teach,

The eye may in a moment reach,

And read distinctly in her face.

Or, to mention one poet more, and him of all the sweetest, she seemed

to be the very person of whom Suckling wrote the following lines,

where, speaking of Cupid, he says,

All his lovely looks, his pleasing fires,

All his sweet motions, all his taking smiles;

All that awakes, all that inflames desires,

All that sweetly commands, all that beguiles,

He does into one pair of eyes convey,

And there begs leave that he himself may stay.

Such was Amelia at this time when she entered the room; and, having

paid her respects to the colonel, she went up to her husband, and

cried, "O, my dear! never were any creatures so happy as your little

things have been this whole morning; and all owing to my lord's

goodness; sure never was anything so good-natured and so generous!"

She then made the children produce their presents, the value of which

amounted to a pretty large sum; for there was a gold watch, amongst

the trinkets, that cost above twenty guineas.