The World's Greatest Books - Volume 4 Part 22

Before pursuing his journey Adams made the acquaintance of another clergyman named Barnabas at the inn, who in his turn, hearing that Adams was proposing to publish sermons, introduced him to a stranger who he said was a bookseller.

Adams, saluting the stranger, answered Barnabas that he was very much obliged to him; that nothing could be more convenient, for he had no other business to the great city, and was heartily desirous of returning with the young man, who was just recovered of his misfortune. To induce the bookseller to be as expeditious as possible, he a.s.sured them their meeting was extremely lucky to himself, for that he had the most pressing occasion for money at that time, his own being almost spent.

"So that nothing," says he, "could be so opportune as my making an immediate bargain with you."

"Sir, sermons are mere drugs," said the stranger. "The trade is so vastly stocked with them that really, unless they come out with the name of Whitefield or Wesley, or some other such great man, as a bishop, or those sort of people, I don't care to touch. However, I will, if you please, take the ma.n.u.script with me to town, and send you my opinion of it in a very short time."

When, however, Adams began to describe the nature of his sermons the bookseller drew back, on the ground that the clergy would be certain to cry down such a book.

An accident prevented Mr. Adams from pursuing a market for his sermons any further, which he would have done in spite of the advice of Barnabas and the bookseller. This accident was, that those sermons which the parson was travelling to London to publish were left behind; what he had mistaken for them in the saddle-bags were three s.h.i.+rts, which Mrs.

Adams, who thought her husband would need s.h.i.+rts rather than sermons on his journey, had carefully provided for him.

Joseph, concerned at the disappointment to his friend, begged him to pursue his journey all the same, and promised he would himself return with the books to him with the utmost expedition.

"No, thank you, child," answered Adams; "it shall not be so. What would it avail me to tarry in the great city unless I had my discourses with me? No; as this accident has happened, I am resolved to return back to my cure, together with you; which, indeed, my inclination sufficiently leads me to."

Mr. Adams, whose credit was good wherever he was known, having borrowed a guinea from a servant belonging to a coach-and-six, who had been formerly one of his paris.h.i.+oners, discharged the bill for Joseph and himself, and the two travellers set off.

_III.--More Adventures_

Adams and Joseph Andrews being for a time separated on the road, through the former's absent-mindedness, it fell to the lot of the parson to hasten to the a.s.sistance of a damsel who in a lonely place was being attacked by some ruffian.

Adams was as strong as he was brave, and having rescued the maiden, took her under his protection. It was too dark for either to identify the other, but on Mr. Adams e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.n.g. the name of Joseph Andrews, for whose safety he was anxious, his companion recognised his voice, and the parson was quickly informed that it was f.a.n.n.y who was by his side.

The fact was the poor girl had heard of Joseph's misfortune from the servants of a coach which had stopped at the inn while the poor youth was confined to his bed; and she had that instant abandoned the cow she was milking, and taking with her a little bundle of clothes under her arm, and all the money she was worth in her own purse, immediately set forward in pursuit of one whom she loved with inexpressible violence, though with the purest and most delicate pa.s.sion.

f.a.n.n.y was now in the nineteenth year of her age; she was tall and delicately shaped. Her hair was a chestnut brown; her complexion was fair; and, to conclude all, she had a natural gentility which surprised all who beheld her.

Can it be wondered that on the following day, when Adams and the damsel overtook Andrews at a wayside ale-house, the youth imprinted numberless kisses on her lips, while Parson Adams danced about the room in a rapture of joy?

It was so late when our travellers left the ale-house that they had not travelled many miles before night overtook them. They moved forwards where the nearest light presented itself; and having crossed a common field, they came to a meadow where they seemed to be at a very little distance from the light, when, to their grief, they arrived at the banks of a river. Adams declared he could swim, but Joseph answered, if they walked along its banks they might be certain of soon finding a bridge, especially as, by the number of lights, they might be a.s.sured a parish was near.

"That's true, indeed," said Adams. "I did not think of that."

Accordingly, Joseph's advice being taken, they pa.s.sed over two meadows, and came to a little orchard which led them to a house. f.a.n.n.y begged of Joseph to knock at the door, a.s.suring him she was so weary that she could hardly stand on her feet; and the door being immediately opened, a plain kind of man appeared at it. Adams acquainted him that they had a young woman with them, who was so tired with her journey that he should be much obliged to him if he would suffer her to come in and rest herself.

The man, who saw f.a.n.n.y by the light of the candle which he held in his hand, perceiving her innocent and modest look, and having no apprehensions from the civil behaviour of Adams, presently answered that the young woman was very welcome to rest herself in his house, and so were her company. He then ushered them into a very decent room, where his wife was sitting at a table; she immediately rose up, and a.s.sisted them in setting forth chairs, and desired them to sit down.

They now sat cheerfully round the fire till the master of the house, having surveyed his guests, and conceiving that the ca.s.sock which appeared under Adams's greatcoat, and the shabby livery of Joseph Andrews, did not well suit the familiarity between them, began to entertain some suspicions not much to their advantage. Addressing himself, therefore, to Adams, he said he perceived he was a clergyman by his dress, and supposed that honest man was his footman.

"Sir," answered Adams, "I am a clergyman, at your service; but as to that young man, whom you have rightly termed honest, he is at present in n.o.body's service; he never lived in any other family than that of Lady b.o.o.by, from whence he was discharged; I a.s.sure you, for no crime."

The modest behaviour of Joseph, with the character which Adams gave of him, entirely cured a jealousy which had lately been in the gentleman's mind that f.a.n.n.y was the daughter of some person of fas.h.i.+on and that Joseph had run away with her, and Adams was concerned in the plot.

Having had a full account from Adams of Joseph's history he became enamoured of his guests, drank their healths with great cheerfulness; and, at the parson's request, told something of his own life.

"Sir," says Adams, at the conclusion of the history, "fortune has, I think, paid you all her debts in this sweet retirement."

"Sir," replied the gentleman, whose name was Wilson, "I have the best of wives and three pretty children; but within three years of my arrival here I lost my eldest son. If he had died I could have borne the loss with patience; but, alas, he was stolen away from my door by some wicked travelling people, whom they call gypsies; nor could I ever, with the most diligent search, recover him. Poor child, he had the sweetest look!

The exact picture of his mother!" Mr. Wilson went on to say that he should know his son amongst ten thousand, for he had a mark on his breast of a strawberry.

_IV.--Joseph Finds his Father_

Our travellers, having well refreshed themselves at Mr. Wilson's house, renewed their journey next morning with great alacrity, and two days later reached the parish they were seeking.

The people flocked about Parson Adams like children round a parent; and the parson, on his side, shook every one by the hand. Nor did Joseph and f.a.n.n.y want a hearty welcome from all who saw them. Adams carried his fellow-travellers home to his house, where he insisted on their partaking whatever his wife could provide, and on the very next Sunday he published, for the first time, the banns of marriage between Joseph Andrews and f.a.n.n.y Goodwill.

Lady b.o.o.by, who was now at her country seat again, was furious when she heard in church these banns called, and at once sent for Mr. Adams, and rated him soundly.

"It is my orders that you publish these banns no more, and if you dare, I will recommend it to your master, the rector, to discard you from his service," says my lady. "The fellow Andrews is a vagabond, and shall not settle here and bring a nest of beggars into the parish."

"Madam," answered Adams, "I know not what your ladys.h.i.+p means by the terms 'master' and 'service.' I am in the service of a Master who will never discard me for doing my duty; and if the rector thinks proper to turn me from my cure, G.o.d will provide me, I hope, another."

The malice of Lady b.o.o.by did not stop at this; she endeavoured to get Joseph and f.a.n.n.y convicted on a trumped-up charge of trespa.s.s. In this base wickedness she was defeated by her nephew, young Squire b.o.o.by, who had married the virtuous Pamela, Joseph's sister; and at once stopped the proceedings. More than that, he carried off Andrews to Lady b.o.o.by's, and on his arrival, said, "Madam, as I have married a virtuous and worthy woman, I am resolved to own her relations, and show them all respect; I shall think myself, therefore, infinitely obliged to all mine who will do the same. It is true her brother has been your servant, but he has now become my brother."

Lady b.o.o.by answered that she would be pleased to entertain Joseph Andrews; but when the squire went on to speak of f.a.n.n.y, his aunt put her foot down resolutely against her civility to the young woman.

And now both Pamela and her husband were inclined to urge Joseph to break off the engagement with f.a.n.n.y, but the young man would not give way, and in this he was supported by Mr. Adams.

The arrival of a peddler in the parish, who had shown some civility to Adams and Andrews when they were travelling on the road, threatened the marriage prospect much more dangerously for a time.

According to the pedaler, who was a man of some education and birth, f.a.n.n.y had been stolen away from her home when an infant, and sold for three guineas to Sir Thomas b.o.o.by; the name of her family was Andrews, and they had a daughter of a very strange name, Pamela. This story he had received from a dying woman when he had been a drummer in an Irish regiment.

The only thing now to be done was to send for old Mr. Andrews and his wife; and, in the meantime, the pedal was bidden to b.o.o.by Hall to tell the whole story again. All who heard him were well satisfied of the truth, except Pamela, who imagined as neither of her parents had ever mentioned such an incident to her, it must be false; and except Lady b.o.o.by, who suspected the falsehood of the story from her ardent desire that it should be true; and Joseph, who feared its truth, from his earnest wishes that it might prove false.

On the following morning news came of the arrival of old Mr. Andrews and his wife. Mr. Andrews a.s.sured Mr. b.o.o.by that he had never lost a daughter by gypsies, nor ever had any other children than Joseph and Pamela. But old Mrs. Andrews, running to f.a.n.n.y, embraced her, crying out, "She is--she is my child!"

The company were all amazed at this disagreement, until the old woman explained the mystery. During her husband's absence at Gibraltar, when he was a sergeant in the army, a party of gypsies had stolen the little girl who had been born to him, and left a small male child in her place.

So she had brought up the boy as her own.

"Well," says Gaffer Andrews, "you have proved, I think, very plainly, that this girl does not belong to us; I hope you are certain the boy is ours."

Then it turned out that Joseph had a strawberry mark on his left breast, and this made the peddler, who knew all about Mr. Wilson's loss, satisfied that Joseph was no other than Mr. Wilson's son.

So Mr. Wilson had to be sent for, who, on his arrival, no sooner saw the mark than he cried out with tears of joy, "I have discovered my son!"

The banns having been duly called, there was now nothing to prevent the wedding, which, having taken place, Joseph and his wife settled down in Mr. Wilson's parish, Mr. b.o.o.by having given f.a.n.n.y a fortune of 2,000.

He also presented Mr. Adams with a living of 130 a year.

Tom Jones