The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling Henry Fielding (ebook reader android .TXT) 📖

times during their walk, kissed it as often, talked much to himself, and very little to his companions. At all which the guide expressed some signs of astonishment to Partridge; who more than once shook his head, and cried, Poor gentleman! orandum est ut sit mens sana in corpore sano.

At length they arrived at the very spot where Sophia unhappily dropped the pocketbook, and where the fellow had as happily found it. Here Jones offered to take leave of his guide, and to improve his pace; but the fellow, in whom that violent surprise and joy which the first receipt of the guinea had occasioned was now considerably abated, and who had now had sufficient time to recollect himself, put on a discontented look, and, scratching his head, said, “He hoped his worship would give him something more. Your worship,” said he, “will, I hope, take it into your consideration that if I had not been honest I might have kept the whole.” And, indeed, this the reader must confess to have been true. “If the paper there,” said he, “be worth £100, I am sure the finding it deserves more than a guinea. Besides, suppose your worship should never see the lady, nor give it her⁠—and, though your worship looks and talks very much like a gentleman, yet I have only your worship’s bare word; and, certainly, if the right owner ben’t to be found, it all belongs to the first finder. I hope your worship will consider of all these matters: I am but a poor man, and therefore don’t desire to have all; but it is but reasonable I should have my share. Your worship looks like a good man, and, I hope, will consider my honesty; for I might have kept every farthing, and nobody ever the wiser.”⁠—“I promise thee, upon my honour,” cries Jones, “that I know the right owner, and will restore it her.”⁠—“Nay, your worship,” answered the fellow, “may do as you please as to that; if you will but give me my share, that is, one-half of the money, your honour may keep the rest yourself if you please”; and concluded with swearing, by a very vehement oath, “that he would never mention a syllable of it to any man living.”

“Lookee, friend,” cries Jones, “the right owner shall certainly have again all that she lost; and as for any farther gratuity, I really cannot give it you at present; but let me know your name, and where you live, and it is more than possible you may hereafter have further reason to rejoice at this morning’s adventure.”

“I don’t know what you mean by venture,” cries the fellow; “it seems I must venture whether you will return the lady her money or no; but I hope your worship will consider⁠—” “Come, come,” said Partridge, “tell his honour your name, and where you may be found; I warrant you will never repent having put the money into his hands.” The fellow, seeing no hopes of recovering the possession of the pocketbook, at last complied in giving in his name and place of abode, which Jones writ upon a piece of paper with the pencil of Sophia; and then, placing the paper in the same page where she had writ her name, he cried out, “There, friend, you are the happiest man alive; I have joined your name to that of an angel.”⁠—“I don’t know anything about angels,” answered the fellow; “but I wish you would give me a little more money, or else return me the pocketbook.” Partridge now waxed wrath: he called the poor cripple by several vile and opprobrious names, and was absolutely proceeding to beat him, but Jones would not suffer any such thing: and now, telling the fellow he would certainly find some opportunity of serving him, Mr. Jones departed as fast as his heels would carry him; and Partridge, into whom the thoughts of the hundred pound had infused new spirits, followed his leader; while the man, who was obliged to stay behind, fell to cursing them both, as well as his parents; “for had they,” says he, “sent me to charity-school to learn to write and read and cast accounts, I should have known the value of these matters as well as other people.”

V

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

Our travellers now walked so fast, that they had very little time or breath for conversation; Jones meditating all the way on Sophia, and Partridge on the bank-bill, which, though it gave him some pleasure, caused him at the same time to repine at fortune, which, in all his walks, had never given him such an opportunity of showing his honesty. They had proceeded above three miles, when Partridge, being unable any longer to keep up with Jones, called to him, and begged him a little to slacken his pace: with this he was the more ready to comply, as he had for some time lost the footsteps of the horses, which the thaw had enabled him to trace for several miles, and he was now upon a wide common, where were several roads.

He here therefore stopped to consider which of these roads he should pursue; when on a sudden they heard the noise of a drum, that seemed at no great distance. This sound presently alarmed the fears of Partridge, and he cried out, “Lord have mercy upon us all; they are certainly a coming!”⁠—“Who is coming?” cries Jones; for fear had long since given place to softer ideas in his mind; and since his adventure with the lame man, he had been totally intent on pursuing Sophia, without entertaining one thought of an enemy.⁠—“Who?” cries Partridge, “why, the rebels: but why should I call them rebels? they may be very honest gentlemen, for anything I know to the contrary. The devil take him that affronts them, I say; I am sure, if they have nothing to