Perhaps, reader, thou hast seen a contest between
two gentlemen, or two ladies, quickly decided, though
they have both asserted they would not eat such a
nice morsel, and each insisted on the other’s
accepting it; but in reality both were very desirous
to swallow it themselves. Do not therefore conclude
hence that this dispute would have come to a speedy
decision: for here both parties were heartily
in earnest, and it is very probable they would have
remained in the inn-yard to this day, had not the
good Peter Pounce put a stop to it; for, finding he
had no longer hopes of satisfying his old appetite
with Fanny, and being desirous of having some one
to whom he might communicate his grandeur, he told
the parson he would convey him home in his chariot.
This favour was by Adams, with many bows and acknowledgments,
accepted, though he afterwards said, “he ascended
the chariot rather that he might not offend than from
any desire of riding in it, for that in his heart he
preferred the pedestrian even to the vehicular expedition.”
All matters being now settled, the chariot, in which
rode Adams and Pounce, moved forwards; and Joseph
having borrowed a pillion from the host, Fanny had
just seated herself thereon, and had laid hold of the
girdle which her lover wore for that purpose, when
the wise beast, who concluded that one at a time was
sufficient, that two to one were odds, &c., discovered
much uneasiness at his double load, and began to consider
his hinder as his fore legs, moving the direct contrary
way to that which is called forwards. Nor could
Joseph, with all his horsemanship, persuade him to
advance; but, without having any regard to the lovely
part of the lovely girl which was on his back, he
used such agitations, that, had not one of the men
come immediately to her assistance, she had, in plain
English, tumbled backwards on the ground. This
inconvenience was presently remedied by an exchange
of horses; and then Fanny being again placed on her
pillion, on a better-natured and somewhat a better-fed
beast, the parson’s horse, finding he had no
longer odds to contend with, agreed to march; and
the whole procession set forwards for Booby-hall,
where they arrived in a few hours without anything
remarkable happening on the road, unless it was a curious
dialogue between the parson and the steward:
which, to use the language of a late Apologist, a
pattern to all biographers, “waits for the reader
in the next chapter.”
A curious dialogue which passed between Mr Abraham
Adams and Mr Peter Pounce, better worth reading than
all the works of Colley Cibber and many others.
