we part? It will waste but a little chalk more,
and if you never pay me a shilling the loss will not
ruin me.” Adams liked the invitation very
well, especially as it was delivered with so hearty
an accent. He shook his host by the hand, and
thanking him, said, “He would tarry another pot
rather for the pleasure of such worthy company than
for the liquor;” adding, “he was glad
to find some Christians left in the kingdom, for that
he almost began to suspect that he was sojourning
in a country inhabited only by Jews and Turks.”
The kind host produced the liquor, and Joseph with
Fanny retired into the garden, where, while they solaced
themselves with amorous discourse, Adams sat down
with his host; and, both filling their glasses, and
lighting their pipes, they began that dialogue which
the reader will find in the next chapter.
A dialogue between Mr Abraham Adams and his host, which, by the
disagreement in their opinions, seemed to threaten an unlucky
catastrophe, had it not been timely prevented by the return of
the lovers.
“Sir,” said the host, “I assure
you you are not the first to whom our squire hath
promised more than he hath performed. He is so
famous for this practice, that his word will not be
taken for much by those who know him. I remember
a young fellow whom he promised his parents to make
an exciseman. The poor people, who could ill afford
it, bred their son to writing and accounts, and other
learning to qualify him for the place; and the boy
held up his head above his condition with these hopes;
nor would he go to plough, nor to any other kind of
work, and went constantly drest as fine as could be,
with two clean Holland shirts a week, and this for
several years; till at last he followed the squire
up to London, thinking there to mind him of his promises;
but he could never get sight of him. So that,
being out of money and business, he fell into evil
company and wicked courses; and in the end came to
a sentence of transportation, the news of which broke
the mother’s heart.—I will tell you
another true story of him. There was a neighbour
of mine, a farmer, who had two sons whom he bred up
to the business. Pretty lads they were.
Nothing would serve the squire but that the youngest
must be made a parson. Upon which he persuaded
the father to send him to school, promising that he
would afterwards maintain him at the university, and,
when he was of a proper age, give him a living.
But after the lad had been seven years at school,
and his father brought him to the squire, with a letter
from his master that he was fit for the university,
the squire, instead of minding his promise, or sending
him thither at his expense, only told his father that
the young man was a fine scholar, and it was pity
he could not afford to keep him at Oxford for four
or five years more, by which time, if he could get
him a curacy, he might have him ordained. The
