Plato and Aristotle, or somebody else, hath said,
that when the most exquisite cunning fails, chance
often hits the mark, and that by means the least expected.
Virgil expresses this very boldly:—
Turne, quod optanti divum
promittere nemo
Auderet, volvenda dies, en!
attulit ultro.
I would quote more great men if I could; but my memory
not permitting me, I will proceed to exemplify these
observations by the following instance:—
There chanced (for Adams had not cunning enough to
contrive it) to be at that time in the alehouse a
fellow who had been formerly a drummer in an Irish
regiment, and now travelled the country as a pedlar.
This man, having attentively listened to the discourse
of the hostess, at last took Adams aside, and asked
him what the sum was for which they were detained.
As soon as he was informed, he sighed, and said, “He
was sorry it was so much; for that he had no more
than six shillings and sixpence in his pocket, which
he would lend them with all his heart.”
Adams gave a caper, and cry’d out, “It
would do; for that he had sixpence himself.”
And thus these poor people, who could not engage the
compassion of riches and piety, were at length delivered
out of their distress by the charity of a poor pedlar.
I shall refer it to my reader to make what observations
he pleases on this incident: it is sufficient
for me to inform him that, after Adams and his companions
had returned him a thousand thanks, and told him where
he might call to be repaid, they all sallied out of
the house without any compliments from their hostess,
or indeed without paying her any; Adams declaring
he would take particular care never to call there
again; and she on her side assuring them she wanted
no such guests.
A very curious adventure, in which Mr Adams gave a much greater
instance of the honest simplicity of his heart, than of his experience
in the ways of this world.
Our travellers had walked about two miles from that
inn, which they had more reason to have mistaken for
a castle than Don Quixote ever had any of those in
which he sojourned, seeing they had met with such difficulty
in escaping out of its walls, when they came to a parish,
and beheld a sign of invitation hanging out.
A gentleman sat smoaking a pipe at the door, of whom
Adams inquired the road, and received so courteous
and obliging an answer, accompanied with so smiling
a countenance, that the good parson, whose heart was
naturally disposed to love and affection, began to
ask several other questions; particularly the name
of the parish, and who was the owner of a large house
whose front they then had in prospect. The gentleman
answered as obligingly as before; and as to the house,
acquainted him it was his own. He then proceeded
in the following manner: “Sir, I presume
by your habit you are a clergyman; and as you are
