Though this incident will probably appear of little
consequence to many of our readers; yet, trifling
as it was, it had so violent an effect on poor Jones,
that we thought it our duty to relate it. In
reality, there are many little circumstances too often
omitted by injudicious historians, from which events
of the utmost importance arise. The world may
indeed be considered as a vast machine, in which the
great wheels are originally set in motion by those
which are very minute, and almost imperceptible to
any but the strongest eyes.
Thus, not all the charms of the incomparable Sophia;
not all the dazzling brightness, and languishing softness
of her eyes; the harmony of her voice, and of her
person; not all her wit, good-humour, greatness of
mind, or sweetness of disposition, had been able so
absolutely to conquer and enslave the heart of poor
Jones, as this little incident of the muff. Thus
the poet sweetly sings of Troy—
_—Captique
dolis lachrymisque coacti
Quos neque Tydides,
nec Larissaeus Achilles,
Non anni domuere
decem, non mille Carinae._
What Diomede or
Thetis’ greater son,
A thousand ships,
nor ten years’ siege had done
False tears and
fawning words the city won.
The citadel of Jones was now taken by surprize.
All those considerations of honour and prudence which
our heroe had lately with so much military wisdom
placed as guards over the avenues of his heart, ran
away from their posts, and the god of love marched
in, in triumph.
A very long chapter, containing a very great incident.
But though this victorious deity easily expelled his
avowed enemies from the heart of Jones, he found it
more difficult to supplant the garrison which he himself
had placed there. To lay aside all allegory,
the concern for what must become of poor Molly greatly
disturbed and perplexed the mind of the worthy youth.
The superior merit of Sophia totally eclipsed, or
rather extinguished, all the beauties of the poor
girl; but compassion instead of contempt succeeded
to love. He was convinced the girl had placed
all her affections, and all her prospect of future
happiness, in him only. For this he had, he knew,
given sufficient occasion, by the utmost profusion
of tenderness towards her: a tenderness which
he had taken every means to persuade her he would
always maintain. She, on her side, had assured
him of her firm belief in his promise, and had with
the most solemn vows declared, that on his fulfilling
or breaking these promises, it depended, whether she
should be the happiest or most miserable of womankind.
And to be the author of this highest degree of misery
to a human being, was a thought on which he could
not bear to ruminate a single moment. He considered
this poor girl as having sacrificed to him everything
in her little power; as having been at her own expense
