and I knew it to be Mrs. Booth.”
“Mrs. Booth! what Mrs. Booth?” cries the doctor.
“Captain Booth’s lady, the captain who is now below,” said the other.
“How?” cries the doctor with great impetuosity.
“Have patience,” said the man, “and you shall hear all. I expressed some surprize to the pawnbroker, and asked the lady’s name. He answered, that he knew not her name; but that she was some undone wretch, who had the day before left all her cloathes with him in pawn. My guilt immediately flew in my face, and told me I had been accessory to this lady’s undoing. The sudden shock so affected me, that, had it not been for a dram which the pawnbroker gave me, I believe I should have sunk on the spot.”
“Accessary to her undoing! how accessary?” said the doctor. “Pray tell me, for I am impatient to hear.”
“I will tell you all as fast as I can,” cries the sick man. “You know, good doctor, that Mrs. Harris of our town had two daughters, this Mrs. Booth and another. Now, sir, it seems the other daughter had, some way or other, disobliged her mother a little before the old lady died; therefore she made a will, and left all her fortune, except one thousand pound, to Mrs. Booth; to which will Mr. Murphy, myself, and another who is now dead, were the witnesses. Mrs. Harris afterwards died suddenly; upon which it was contrived by her other daughter and Mr. Murphy to make a new will, in which Mrs. Booth had a legacy of ten pound, and all the rest was given to the other. To this will, Murphy, myself, and the same third person, again set our hands.”
“Good Heaven! how wonderful is thy providence!” cries the doctor– “Murphy, say you?”
“He himself, sir,” answered Robinson; “Murphy, who is the greatest rogue, I believe, now in the world.”
“Pray, sir, proceed,” cries the doctor.
“For this service, sir,” said Robinson, “myself and the third person, one Carter, received two hundred pound each. What reward Murphy himself had I know not. Carter died soon afterwards; and from that time, at several payments, I have by threats extorted above a hundred pound more. And this, sir, is the whole truth, which I am ready to testify if it would please Heaven to prolong my life.”
“I hope it will,” cries the doctor; “but something must be done for fear of accidents. I will send to counsel immediately to know how to secure your testimony.–Whom can I get to send?–Stay, ay–he will do –but I know not where his house or his chambers are. I will go myself –but I may be wanted here.”
While the doctor was in this violent agitation the surgeon made his appearance. The doctor stood still in a meditating posture, while the surgeon examined his patient. After which the doctor begged him to declare his opinion, and whether he thought the wounded man in any immediate danger of death. “I do not know,” answered the surgeon, “what you call immediate. He may live several days–nay, he may recover. It is impossible to give any certain opinion in these cases.” He then launched forth into a set of terms which the doctor, with all his scholarship, could not understand. To say the truth, many of them were not to be found in any dictionary or lexicon.
One discovery, however, the doctor made, and that was, that the surgeon was a very ignorant, conceited fellow, and knew nothing of his profession. He resolved, therefore, to get better advice for the sick; but this he postponed at present, and, applying himself to the surgeon, said, “He should be very much obliged to him if he knew where to find such a counsellor, and would fetch him thither. I should not ask such a favour of you, sir,” says the doctor, “if it was not on business of the last importance, or if I could find any other messenger.”
“I fetch, sir!” said the surgeon very angrily. “Do you take me for a footman or a porter? I don’t know who you are; but I believe you are full as proper to go on such an errand as I am.” (For as the doctor, who was just come off his journey, was very roughly dressed, the surgeon held him in no great respect.) The surgeon then called aloud from the top of the stairs, “Let my coachman draw up,” and strutted off without any ceremony, telling his patient he would call again the next day.
At this very instant arrived Murphy with the other bail, and, finding Booth alone, he asked the bailiff at the door what was become of the doctor? “Why, the doctor,” answered he, “is above-stairs, praying with —–.” “How!” cries Murphy. “How came you not to carry him directly to Newgate, as you promised me?” “Why, because he was wounded,” cries the bailiff. “I thought it was charity to take care of him; and, besides, why should one make more noise about the matter than is necessary?” “And Doctor Harrison with him?” said Murphy. “Yes, he is,” said the bailiff; “he desired to speak with the doctor very much, and they have been praying together almost this hour.” “All is up and undone!” cries Murphy. “Let me come by, I have thought of something which I must do immediately.”
Now, as by means of the surgeon’s leaving the door open the doctor heard Murphy’s voice naming Robinson peevishly, he drew softly to the top of the stairs, where he heard the foregoing dialogue; and as soon as Murphy had uttered his last words, and was moving downwards, the doctor immediately sallied from his post, running as fast as he could, and crying, Stop the villain! stop the thief!
The attorney wanted no better hint to accelerate his pace; and, having the start of the doctor, got downstairs, and out into the street; but the doctor was so close at his heels, and being in foot the nimbler of the two, he soon overtook him, and laid hold of him, as he would have done on either Broughton or Slack in the same cause.
This action in the street, accompanied with the frequent cry of Stop thief by the doctor during the chase, presently drew together a large mob, who began, as is usual, to enter immediately upon business, and to make strict enquiry into the matter, in order to proceed to do justice in their summary way.
Murphy, who knew well the temper of the mob, cried out, “If you are a bailiff, shew me your writ. Gentlemen, he pretends to arrest me here without a writ.”
Upon this, one of the sturdiest and forwardest of the mob, and who by a superior strength of body and of lungs presided in this assembly, declared he would suffer no such thing. “D–n me,” says he, “away to the pump with the catchpole directly–shew me your writ, or let the gentleman go–you shall not arrest a man contrary to law.”
He then laid his hands on the doctor, who, still fast griping the attorney, cried out, “He is a villain–I am no bailiff, but a clergyman, and this lawyer is guilty of forgery, and hath ruined a poor family.”
“How!” cries the spokesman–“a lawyer!–that alters the case.”
“Yes, faith,” cries another of the mob, “it is lawyer Murphy. I know him very well.”
“And hath he ruined a poor family?–like enough, faith, if he’s a lawyer. Away with him to the justice immediately.”
The bailiff now came up, desiring to know what was the matter; to whom Doctor Harrison answered that he had arrested that villain for a forgery. “How can you arrest him?” cries the bailiff; “you are no officer, nor have any warrant. Mr. Murphy is a gentleman, and he shall be used as such.”
“Nay, to be sure,” cries the spokesman, “there ought to be a warrant; that’s the truth on’t.”
“There needs no warrant,” cries the doctor. “I accuse him of felony; and I know so much of the law of England, that any man may arrest a felon without any warrant whatever. This villain hath undone a poor family; and I will die on the spot before I part with him.”
“If the law be so,” cries the orator, “that is another matter. And to be sure, to ruin a poor man is the greatest of sins. And being a lawyer too makes it so much the worse. He shall go before the justice, d–n me if he shan’t go before the justice! I says the word, he shall.”
“I say he is a gentleman, and shall be used according to law,” cries the bailiff; “and, though you are a clergyman,” said he to Harrison, “you don’t shew yourself as one by your actions.”
“That’s a bailiff,” cries one of the mob: “one lawyer will always stand by another; but I think the clergyman is a very good man, and acts becoming a clergyman, to stand by the poor.”
At which words the mob all gave a great shout, and several cried out, “Bring him along, away with him to the justice!”
And now a constable appeared, and with an authoritative voice declared what he was, produced his staff, and demanded the peace.
The doctor then delivered his prisoner over to the officer, and charged him with felony; the constable received him, the attorney submitted, the bailiff was hushed, and the waves of the mob immediately subsided.
The doctor now balanced with himself how he should proceed: at last he determined to leave Booth a little longer in captivity, and not to quit sight of Murphy before he had lodged him safe with a magistrate. They then all moved forwards to the justice; the constable and his prisoner marching first, the doctor and the bailiff following next, and about five thousand mob (for no less number were assembled in a very few minutes) following in the procession.
They found the magistrate just sitting down to his dinner; however, when he was acquainted with the doctor’s profession, he immediately admitted him, and heard his business; which he no sooner perfectly understood, with all its circumstances, than he resolved, though it was then very late, and he had been fatigued all the morning with public business, to postpone all refreshment till he had discharged his duty. He accordingly adjourned the prisoner and his cause to the bailiff’s house, whither he himself, with the doctor, immediately repaired, and whither the attorney was followed by a much larger number of attendants than he had been honoured with before.
Chapter vii.
_In which the history draws towards a conclusion._
Nothing could exceed the astonishment of Booth at the behaviour of the doctor at the time when he sallied forth in pursuit of the attorney; for which it was so impossible for him to account in any manner whatever. He remained a long time in the utmost torture of mind, till at last the bailif’s wife came to him, and asked him if the doctor was not a madman? and, in truth, he could hardly defend him from that imputation.
While he was in this perplexity the maid of the house brought him a message from Robinson, desiring the favour of seeing him above-stairs. With this he immediately complied.
When these two were alone together, and the key turned on them (for the bailiff’s wife was a most careful person, and never omitted that ceremony in the absence of her husband, having always at her tongue’s end that excellent proverb of “Safe bind, safe find”), Robinson, looking stedfastly upon Booth, said, “I believe, sir, you scarce remember me.”
Booth answered that he thought he had seen his face somewhere before, but could not then recollect when or where.
“Indeed, sir,” answered the man, “it was a place which no man can remember with pleasure. But do you not remember, a few weeks ago, that you had the misfortune to be in a certain prison in this town, where you lost a trifling sum at cards to a fellow-prisoner?”
This hint sufficiently awakened Booth’s memory, and he now recollected the features of his old friend Robinson. He answered him a little surlily, “I know you now very well, but I did not imagine you would ever have reminded me of that transaction.”
“Alas, sir!” answered Robinson, “whatever happened then was very trifling compared to the injuries I have done you; but if my life be spared long enough I will now undo it all: and, as I have been one of your worst enemies, I will now be one of your best friends.”
He was just entering upon his story when a noise was heard below which might be almost compared to what have been heard in Holland when the dykes have given way, and the ocean in an inundation breaks in upon the land. It seemed, indeed, as if the whole world was bursting into the house at once.
Booth was a man of great firmness of mind, and he had need of it all at this instant. As for poor Robinson, the usual concomitants of guilt attended him, and he began to tremble in a violent manner.
The first person who ascended the stairs was the doctor, who no sooner saw Booth than he ran to him and embraced him, crying, “My child, I wish you joy with all my heart. Your sufferings are all at an end, and Providence hath done you the justice at last which it will, one day or other, render to all men. You will hear all presently; but I can now only tell you that your sister is discovered and the estate is your own.”
Booth was in such confusion that he scarce made any answer, and now appeared the justice and his clerk, and immediately afterwards the constable with his prisoner, the bailiff, and as many more as could possibly crowd up-stairs.
The doctor now addressed himself to the sick man, and desired him to repeat the same information before the justice which he had made already; to which Robinson readily consented.
While the clerk was taking down the information, the attorney expressed a very impatient desire to send instantly for his clerk, and expressed so much uneasiness at the confusion in which he had left his papers at home, that a thought suggested itself to the doctor that, if his house was searched, some lights and evidence relating to this affair would certainly be found; he therefore desired the justice to grant a search-warrant immediately to search his house.
The justice answered that he had no such power; that, if there was any suspicion of stolen goods, he could grant a warrant to search for them.
“How, sir!” said the doctor, “can you grant a warrant to search a man’s house for a silver tea-spoon, and not in a case like this, where a man is robbed of his whole estate?”
“Hold, sir,” says the sick man; “I believe I can answer that point; for I can swear he hath several title-deeds of the estate now in his possession, which I am sure were stolen from the right owner.”
The justice still hesitated. He said title-deeds savoured of the Realty, and it was not felony to steal them. If, indeed, they were taken away in a box, then it would be felony to steal the box.
“Savour of the Realty! Savour of the f–talty,” said the doctor. “I never heard such incomprehensible nonsense. This is impudent, as well as childish trifling with the lives and properties of men.”
“Well, sir,” said Robinson, “I now am sure I can do his business; for I know he hath a silver cup in his possession which is the property of this gentleman (meaning Booth), and how he got it but by stealth let him account if he can.”
“That will do,” cries the justice with great pleasure. “That will do; and if you will charge him on oath with that, I will instantly grant my warrant to search his house for it.” “And I will go and see it executed,” cries the doctor; for it was a maxim of his, that no man could descend below himself in doing any act which may contribute to protect an innocent person, or to bring a rogue to the gallows.
The oath was instantly taken, the warrant signed, and the doctor attended the constable in the execution of it.
The clerk then proceeded in taking the information of Robinson, and had just finished it, when the doctor returned with the utmost joy in his countenance, and declared that he had sufficient evidence of the fact in his possession. He had, indeed, two or three letters from Miss Harris in answer to the attorney’s frequent demands of money for secrecy, that fully explained the whole villany.
The justice now asked the prisoner what he had to say for himself, or whether he chose to say anything in his own defence.
“Sir,” said the attorney, with great confidence, “I am not to defend myself here. It will be of no service to me; for I know you neither can nor will discharge me. But I am extremely innocent of all this matter, as I doubt not but to make appear to the satisfaction of a court of justice.”
The legal previous ceremonies were then gone through of binding over the prosecutor, &c., and then the attorney was committed to Newgate, whither he was escorted amidst the acclamations of the populace.
When Murphy was departed, and a little calm restored in the house, the justice made his compliments of congratulation to Booth, who, as well as he could in his present tumult of joy, returned his thanks to both the magistrate and the doctor. They were now all preparing to depart, when Mr. Bondum stept up to Booth, and said, “Hold, sir, you have forgot one thing–you have not given bail yet.”
This occasioned some distress at this time, for the attorney’s friend was departed; but when the justice heard this, he immediately offered himself as the other bondsman, and thus ended the affair.
It was now past six o’clock, and none of the gentlemen had yet dined. They very readily, therefore, accepted the magistrate’s invitation, and went all together to his house.
And now the very first thing that was done, even before they sat down to dinner, was to dispatch a messenger to one of the best surgeons in town to take care of Robinson, and another messenger to Booth’s lodgings to prevent Amelia’s concern at their staying so long.
The latter, however, was to little purpose; for Amelia’s patience had been worn out before, and she had taken a hackney-coach and driven to the bailiff’s, where she arrived a little after the departure of her husband, and was thence directed to the justice’s.
Though there was no kind of reason for Amelia’s fright at hearing that her husband and Doctor Harrison were gone before the justice, and though she indeed imagined that they were there in the light of complainants, not of offenders, yet so tender were her fears for her husband, and so much had her gentle spirits been lately agitated, that she had a thousand apprehensions of she knew not what. When she arrived, therefore, at the house, she ran directly into the room where all the company were at dinner, scarce knowing what she did or whither she was going.
She found her husband in such a situation, and discovered such chearfulness in his countenance, that so violent a turn was given to her spirits that she was just able, with the assistance of a glass of water, to support herself. She soon, however, recovered her calmness, and in a little time began to eat what might indeed be almost called her breakfast.
The justice now wished her joy of what had happened that day, for which she kindly thanked him, apprehending he meant the liberty of her husband. His worship might perhaps have explained himself more largely had not the doctor given him a timely wink; for this wise and good man was fearful of making such a discovery all at once to Amelia, lest it should overpower her, and luckily the justice’s wife was not well enough acquainted with the matter to say anything more on it than barely to assure the lady that she joined in her husband’s congratulation.
Amelia was then in a clean white gown, which she had that day redeemed, and was, indeed, dressed all over with great neatness and exactness; with the glow therefore which arose in her features from finding her husband released from his captivity, she made so charming a figure, that she attracted the eyes of the magistrate and of his wife, and they both agreed when they were alone that they had never seen so charming a creature; nay, Booth himself afterwards told her that he scarce ever remembered her to look so extremely beautiful as she did that evening.
Whether Amelia’s beauty, or the reflexion on the remarkable act of justice he had performed, or whatever motive filled the magistrate with extraordinary good humour, and opened his heart and cellars, I will not determine; but he gave them so hearty a welcome, and they were all so pleased with each other, that Amelia, for that one night, trusted the care of her children to the woman where they lodged, nor did the company rise from table till the clock struck eleven.
They then separated. Amelia and Booth, having been set down at their lodgings, retired into each other’s arms; nor did Booth that evening, by the doctor’s advice, mention one word of the grand affair to his wife.
Chapter viii.
_Thus this history draws nearer to a conclusion._
In the morning early Amelia received the following letter from Mrs. Atkinson:
“The surgeon of the regiment, to which the captain my husband lately belonged, and who came this evening to see the captain, hath almost frightened me out of my wits by a strange story of your husband being committed to prison by a justice of peace for forgery. For Heaven’s sake send me the truth. If my husband can be of any service, weak as he is, he will be carried in a chair to serve a brother officer for whom he hath a regard, which I need not mention. Or if the sum of twenty pound will be of any service to you, I will wait upon you with it the moment I can get my cloaths on, the morning you receive this; for it is too late to send to-night. The captain begs his hearty service and respects, and believe me,
“Dear Madam,
Your ever affectionate friend, and humble servant,
F. ATKINSON.”
When Amelia read this letter to Booth they were both equally surprized, she at the commitment for forgery, and he at seeing such a letter from Mrs. Atkinson; for he was a stranger yet to the reconciliation that had happened.
Booth’s doubts were first satisfied by Amelia, from which he received great pleasure; for he really had a very great affection and fondness for Mr. Atkinson, who, indeed, so well deserved it. “Well, my dear,” said he to Amelia, smiling, “shall we accept this generous offer?”
“O fy! no, certainly,” answered she.
“Why not?” cries Booth; “it is but a trifle; and yet it will be of great service to us.”
“But consider, my dear,” said she, “how ill these poor people can spare it.”
“They can spare it for a little while,” said Booth, “and we shall soon pay it them again.”
“When, my dear?” said Amelia. “Do, my dear Will, consider our wretched circumstances. I beg you let us go into the country immediately, and live upon bread and water till Fortune pleases to smile upon us.”
“I am convinced that day is not far off,” said Booth. “However, give me leave to send an answer to Mrs. Atkinson, that we shall be glad of her company immediately to breakfast.”
“You know I never contradict you,” said she, “but I assure you it is contrary to my inclinations to take this money.”
“Well, suffer me,” cries he, “to act this once contrary to your inclinations.” He then writ a short note to Mrs. Atkinson, and dispatched it away immediately; which when he had done, Amelia said, “I shall be glad of Mrs. Atkinson’s company to breakfast; but yet I wish you would oblige me in refusing this money. Take five guineas only. That is indeed such a sum as, if we never should pay it, would sit light on my mind. The last persons in the world from whom I would receive favours of that sort are the poor and generous.”
“You can receive favours only from the generous,” cries Booth; “and, to be plain with you, there are very few who are generous that are not poor.”
“What think you,” said she, “of Dr Harrison?”
“I do assure you,” said Booth, “he is far from being rich. The doctor hath an income of little more than six hundred pound a-year, and I am convinced he gives away four of it. Indeed, he is one of the best economists in the world: but yet I am positive he never was at any time possessed of five hundred pound, since he hath been a man. Consider, dear Emily, the late obligations we have to this gentleman; it would be unreasonable to expect more, at least at present; my half- pay is mortgaged for a year to come. How then shall we live?”
“By our labour,” answered she; “I am able to labour, and I am sure I am not ashamed of it.”
“And do you really think you can support such a life?”
“I am sure I could be happy in it,” answered Amelia. “And why not I as well as a thousand others, who have not the happiness of such a husband to make life delicious? why should I complain of my hard fate while so many who are much poorer than I enjoy theirs? Am I of a superior rank of being to the wife of the honest labourer? am I not partaker of one common nature with her?”
“My angel,” cries Booth, “it delights me to hear you talk thus, and for a reason you little guess; for I am assured that one who can so heroically endure adversity, will bear prosperity with equal greatness of soul; for the mind that cannot be dejected by the former, is not likely to be transported with the latter.”
“If it had pleased Heaven,” cried she, “to have tried me, I think, at least I hope, I should have preserved my humility.”
“Then, my dear,” said he, “I will relate you a dream I had last night. You know you lately mentioned a dream of yours.”
“Do so,” said she; “I am attentive.”
“I dreamt,” said he, “this night, that we were in the most miserable situation imaginable; indeed, in the situation we were yesterday morning, or rather worse; that I was laid in a prison for debt, and that you wanted a morsel of bread to feed the mouths of your hungry children. At length (for nothing you know is quicker than the transition in dreams) Dr Harrison methought came to me, with chearfulness and joy in his countenance. The prison-doors immediately flew open, and Dr Harrison introduced you, gayly though not richly dressed. That you gently chid me for staying so long. All on a sudden appeared a coach with four horses to it, in which was a maid-servant with our two children. We both immediately went into the coach, and, taking our leave of the doctor, set out towards your country-house; for yours I dreamt it was. I only ask you now, if this was real, and the transition almost as sudden, could you support it?”
Amelia was going to answer, when Mrs. Atkinson came into the room, and after very little previous ceremony, presented Booth with a bank-note, which he received of her, saying he would very soon repay it; a promise that a little offended Amelia, as she thought he had no chance of keeping it.
The doctor presently arrived, and the company sat down to breakfast, during which Mrs. Atkinson entertained them with the history of the doctors that had attended her husband, by whose advice Atkinson was recovered from everything but the weakness which his distemper had occasioned.
When the tea-table was removed Booth told the doctor that he had acquainted his wife with a dream he had last night. “I dreamt, doctor,” said he, “that she was restored to her estate.”
“Very well,” said the doctor; “and if I am to be the Oneiropolus, I believe the dream will come to pass. To say the truth, I have rather a better opinion of dreams than Horace had. Old Homer says they come from Jupiter; and as to your dream, I have often had it in my waking thoughts, that some time or other that roguery (for so I was always convinced it was) would be brought to light; for the same Homer says, as you, madam (meaning Mrs. Atkinson), very well know,
[Greek verses]
[Footnote: “If Jupiter doth not immediately execute his vengeance, he will however execute it at last; and their transgressions shall fall heavily on their own heads, and on their wives and children.”]
“I have no Greek ears, sir,” said Mrs. Atkinson. “I believe I could understand it in the Delphin Homer.”
“I wish,” cries he, “my dear child (to Amelia), you would read a little in the Delphin Aristotle, or else in some Christian divine, to learn a doctrine which you will one day have a use for. I mean to bear the hardest of all human conflicts, and support with an even temper, and without any violent transports of mind, a sudden gust of prosperity.”
“Indeed,” cries Amelia, “I should almost think my husband and you, doctor, had some very good news to tell me, by your using, both of you, the same introduction. As far as I know myself, I think I can answer I can support any degree of prosperity, and I think I yesterday shewed I could: for I do assure you, it is not in the power of fortune to try me with such another transition from grief to joy, as I conceived from seeing my husband in prison and at liberty.”
“Well, you are a good girl,” cries the doctor, “and after I have put on my spectacles I will try you.”
The doctor then took out a newspaper, and read as follows:
“‘Yesterday one Murphy, an eminent attorney-at-law, was committed to Newgate for the forgery of a will under which an estate hath been for many years detained from the right owner.’
“Now in this paragraph there is something very remarkable, and that is–that it is true: but _opus est explanatu_. In the Delphin edition of this newspaper there is the following note upon the words right owner:–‘The right owner of this estate is a young lady of the highest merit, whose maiden name was Harris, and who some time since was married to an idle fellow, one Lieutenant Booth. And the best historians assure us that letters from the elder sister of this lady, which manifestly prove the forgery and clear up the whole affair, are in the hands of an old Parson called Doctor Harrison.'”
“And is this really true?” cries Amelia.
“Yes, really and sincerely,” cries the doctor. “The whole estate; for your mother left it you all, and is as surely yours as if you was already in possession.”
“Gracious Heaven!” cries she, falling on her knees, “I thank you!” And then starting up, she ran to her husband, and, embracing him, cried, “My dear love, I wish you joy; and I ought in gratitude to wish it you; for you are the cause of mine. It is upon yours and my children’s account that I principally rejoice.”
Mrs. Atkinson rose from her chair, and jumped about the room for joy, repeating,
_Turne, quod oplanti divum promittere nemo Auderet, volvenda dies, en, attulit ultro._
[Footnote: “What none of all the Gods could grant thy vows, That, Turnus, this auspicious day bestows.”]
Amelia now threw herself into a chair, complained she was a little faint, and begged a glass of water. The doctor advised her to be blooded; but she refused, saying she required a vent of another kind. She then desired her children to be brought to her, whom she immediately caught in her arms, and, having profusely cried over them for several minutes, declared she was easy. After which she soon regained her usual temper and complexion.
That day they dined together, and in the afternoon they all, except the doctor, visited Captain Atkinson; he repaired to the bailiff’s house to visit the sick man, whom he found very chearful, the surgeon having assured him that he was in no danger.
The doctor had a long spiritual discourse with Robinson, who assured him that he sincerely repented of his past life, that he was resolved to lead his future days in a different manner, and to make what amends he could for his sins to the society, by bringing one of the greatest rogues in it to justice. There was a circumstance which much pleased the doctor, and made him conclude that, however Robinson had been corrupted by his old master, he had naturally a good disposition. This was, that Robinson declared he was chiefly induced to the discovery by what had happened at the pawnbroker’s, and by the miseries which he there perceived he had been instrumental in bringing on Booth and his family.
The next day Booth and his wife, at the doctor’s instance, dined with Colonel James and his lady, where they were received with great civility, and all matters were accommodated without Booth ever knowing a syllable of the challenge even to this day.
The doctor insisted very strongly on having Miss Harris taken into custody, and said, if she was his sister, he would deliver her to justice. He added besides, that it was impossible to skreen her and carry on the prosecution, or, indeed, recover the estate. Amelia at last begged the delay of one day only, in which time she wrote a letter to her sister, informing her of the discovery, and the danger in which she stood, and begged her earnestly to make her escape, with many assurances that she would never suffer her to know any distress. This letter she sent away express, and it had the desired effect; for Miss Harris, having received sufficient information from the attorney to the same purpose, immediately set out for Poole, and from thence to France, carrying with her all her money, most of her cloaths, and some few jewels. She had, indeed, packed up plate and jewels to the value of two thousand pound and upwards. But Booth, to whom Amelia communicated the letter, prevented her by ordering the man that went with the express (who had been a serjeant of the foot-guards recommended to him by Atkinson) to suffer the lady to go whither she pleased, but not to take anything with her except her cloaths, which he was carefully to search. These orders were obeyed punctually, and with these she was obliged to comply.
Two days after the bird was flown a warrant from the lord chief justice arrived to take her up, the messenger of which returned with the news of her flight, highly to the satisfaction of Amelia, and consequently of Booth, and, indeed, not greatly to the grief of the doctor.
About a week afterwards Booth and Amelia, with their children, and Captain Atkinson and his lady, all set forward together for Amelia’s house, where they arrived amidst the acclamations of all the neighbours, and every public demonstration of joy.
They found the house ready prepared to receive them by Atkinson’s friend the old serjeant, and a good dinner prepared for them by Amelia’s old nurse, who was addressed with the utmost duty by her son and daughter, most affectionately caressed by Booth and his wife, and by Amelia’s absolute command seated next to herself at the table. At which, perhaps, were assembled some of the best and happiest people then in the world.
Chapter ix.
_In which the history is concluded._
Having brought our history to a conclusion, as to those points in which we presume our reader was chiefly interested, in the foregoing chapter, we shall in this, by way of epilogue, endeavour to satisfy his curiosity as to what hath since happened to the principal personages of whom we have treated in the foregoing pages.
Colonel James and his lady, after living in a polite manner for many years together, at last agreed to live in as polite a manner asunder. The colonel hath kept Miss Matthews ever since, and is at length grown to doat on her (though now very disagreeable in her person, and immensely fat) to such a degree, that he submits to be treated by her in the most tyrannical manner.
He allows his lady eight hundred pound a-year, with which she divides her time between Tunbridge, Bath, and London, and passes about nine hours in the twenty-four at cards. Her income is lately increased by three thousand pound left her by her brother Colonel Bath, who was killed in a duel about six years ago by a gentleman who told the colonel he differed from him in opinion.
The noble peer and Mrs. Ellison have been both dead several years, and both of the consequences of their favourite vices; Mrs. Ellison having fallen a martyr to her liquor, and the other to his amours, by which he was at last become so rotten that he stunk above-ground.
The attorney, Murphy, was brought to his trial at the Old Bailey, where, after much quibbling about the meaning of a very plain act of parliament, he was at length convicted of forgery, and was soon afterwards hanged at Tyburn.
The witness for some time seemed to reform his life, and received a small pension from Booth; after which he returned to vicious courses, took a purse on the highway, was detected and taken, and followed the last steps of his old master. So apt are men whose manners have been once thoroughly corrupted, to return, from any dawn of an amendment, into the dark paths of vice.
As to Miss Harris, she lived three years with a broken heart at Boulogne, where she received annually fifty pound from her sister, who was hardly prevailed on by Dr Harrison not to send her a hundred, and then died in a most miserable manner.
Mr. Atkinson upon the whole hath led a very happy life with his wife, though he hath been sometimes obliged to pay proper homage to her superior understanding and knowledge. This, however, he chearfully submits to, and she makes him proper returns of fondness. They have two fine boys, of whom they are equally fond. He is lately advanced to the rank of captain, and last summer both he and his wife paid a visit of three months to Booth and his wife.
Dr Harrison is grown old in years and in honour, beloved and respected by all his parishioners and by all his neighbours. He divides his time between his parish, his old town, and Booth’s–at which last place he had, two years ago, a gentle fit of the gout, being the first attack of that distemper. During this fit Amelia was his nurse, and her two oldest daughters sat up alternately with him for a whole week. The eldest of those girls, whose name is Amelia, is his favourite; she is the picture of her mother, and it is thought the doctor hath distinguished her in his will, for he hath declared that he will leave his whole fortune, except some few charities, among Amelia’s children.
As to Booth and Amelia, Fortune seems to have made them large amends for the tricks she played them in their youth. They have, ever since the above period of this history, enjoyed an uninterrupted course of health and happiness. In about six weeks after Booth’s first coming into the country he went to London and paid all his debts of honour; after which, and a stay of two days only, he returned into the country, and hath never since been thirty miles from home. He hath two boys and four girls; the eldest of the boys, he who hath made his appearance in this history, is just come from the university, and is one of the finest gentlemen and best scholars of his age. The second is just going from school, and is intended for the church, that being his own choice. His eldest daughter is a woman grown, but we must not mention her age. A marriage was proposed to her the other day with a young fellow of a good estate, but she never would see him more than once: “For Doctor Harrison,” says she, “told me he was illiterate, and I am sure he is ill-natured.” The second girl is three years younger than her sister, and the others are yet children.
Amelia is still the finest woman in England of her age. Booth himself often avers she is as handsome as ever. Nothing can equal the serenity of their lives. Amelia declared to me the other day, that she did not remember to have seen her husband out of humour these ten years; and, upon my insinuating to her that he had the best of wives, she answered with a smile that she ought to be so, for that he had made her the happiest of women.
END OF VOL. II.
THE END.