that two guns had been discharged almost in the same instant. And, says he, "We have found only this partridge, but the Lord knows what mischief they have done."

At his return home Tom was presently convened before Mr. Allworthy. He owned the fact, and alleged no other excuse but what was really true, viz., that the covey was originally sprung in Mr. Allworthy's own manor.

Tom refuses to

Tom was then interrogated who was with him, which Mr. Allworthy declared he was resolved to know, acquainting the betray his culprit with the circumstance of the two guns, which had been companion. deposed by the squire and both his servants; but Tom stoutly persisted in asserting that he was alone; yet, to say the truth, he hesitated a little at first, which would have confirmed Mr. Allworthy's belief had what the squire and his servants said wanted any further confirmation.

The gamekeeper, being a suspected person, was now sent for, and the question put to him; but he, relying on the promise which Tom had made him, to take all upon himself, very resolutely denied being in company with the young gentleman, or indeed having seen him the whole afternoon.

Mr. Allworthy then turned toward Tom, with more than usual anger in his countenance, and advised him to confess who was with him; repeating that he was resolved to know. The lad, however, still maintained his resolution, and was dismissed with much wrath by Mr. Allworthy, who told him he should have to the next morning to consider of it, when he should be questioned by another person and in another manner.

Poor Jones spent a very melancholy night; and the more so as he was without his usual companion; for Master Blifil was gone abroad on a visit with his mother. Fear of the punishment he was to suffer was on this occasion his least evil; his chief anxiety being lest his constancy should fail him, and he should be brought to betray the gamekeeper, whose ruin he knew must now be the consequence.

Nor did the gamekeeper pass the time much better. He had the same apprehensions with the youth for whose humor he had likewise a much tenderer regard than for his skin.

In the morning when Tom attended the reverend Mr. Thwackum, the person to whom Mr. Allworthy had committed the instruction of the two boys, he had the same questions put to him by that gentleman which he had been asked the evening

His punish

ment.

Mr. Allworthy's kindness.

The conse

before, to which he returned the same answer.
quence was a severe whipping, which he bore with great reso-
lution, rather than betray his friend or break the promise he
had made.

The gamekeeper was now relieved from his anxiety, and Mr. Allworthy himself began to be concerned at Tom's sufferings; now as cruelty and injustice were two ideas of which Mr. Allworthy could by no means support the consciousness a single moment he sent for Tom and said: "I am convinced, my dear child, that my suspicions have wronged you, I am sorry you have been so severely punished on this account." And at last gave him a little horse to make him amends.

Tom's guilt now flew in his face more than any severity could make it. The tears burst from his eyes, and he fell on his knees, crying, "Oh, sir, you are too good to me. Indeed you

are. Indeed, I don't deserve it.” And at that very instant, from the fulness of his heart, had almost betrayed the secret; but the good genius of the gamekeeper suggested to him what might be the consequence to the poor fellow, and this consideration sealed his lips.

Thwackum did all he could to persuade Allworthy from showing any compassion or kindness to the boy, saying, "He had persisted in an untruth"; and gave some hints that a second whipping might probably bring the matter to light.

But Mr. Allworthy absolutely refused to consent to the experiment. He said the boy had suffered enough already for concealing the truth, even if he was guilty, seeing that he could have no motive but a mistaken point of honor for so doing.

"Honor!" cried Thwackum with some wrath, 66 mere stubbornness and obstinacy! Can honor teach any one to tell a lie, or can any honor exist independent of religion?"

A childish incident, in which, however, is seen a good-natured disposition in Tom Jones.

The reader may remember that Mr. Allworthy gave Tom Jones a little horse, as a kind of smart-money for the punishment which he imagined he had suffered innocently.

This horse Tom kept above half a year, and then rode him The horse sold. to a neighboring fair and sold him. On his return, being questioned by Thwackum what he had done with the money for which the horse was sold, he frankly declared he would not tell

him. Mr. Allworthy, entering the room, took him with him into another apartment; where, being himself only present with Tom, he put the same question to him which Thwackum had before asked him.

Tom answered, he could in duty refuse him nothing; but as for that tyrannical rascal, he would never make him any other answer than with a cudgel, with which he hoped soon to be able to pay him for all his barbarities.

Mr. Allworthy very severely reprimanded the lad for his indecent and disrespectful expressions concerning his master; but much more for his avowing an intention of revenge. He threatened him with the entire loss of his favor if he ever heard such another word from his mouth; for, he said, he would never support or befriend a reprobate. By these and the like declarations, he extorted some compunction from Tom, in which that youth was not over-sincere; for he really meditated some return for all the smarting favors he had received at the hands of the pedagogue. He was, however, brought by Mr. Allworthy to express a concern for his resentment against Thwackum; and then the good man, after some wholesome admonition, permitted him to proceed, which he did as follows:

Tom reprimanded.

"Indeed, my dear sir, I love and honor you more than all the world: I know the great obligations I have to you, and His defense. should detest myself if I thought my heart was capable of ingratitude. Could the little horse you gave me speak, I am sure he could tell you how fond I was of your present; for I had more pleasure in feeding him than in riding him. Indeed, sir, it went to my heart to part with him; nor would I have sold him upon any other account in the world than what I did. You yourself, sir, I am convinced, in my case, would have done the same; for none ever so sensibly felt the misfortunes of others. What would you feel, dear sir, if you thought yourself the occasion of them? Indeed, sir, there never was any misery like theirs."

"Like whose, child?" says Allworthy. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, sir!" answered Tom, "your poor gamekeeper, with all his large family, ever since your discarding him, have been perishing with all the miseries of cold and hunger: I could not bear to see these poor wretches naked and starving, and at the same time know myself to have been the occasion of all their

Cause of his sacrifice.

Description of
Miss Sophia
Western.

sufferings. I could not bear it, sir; upon my soul, I could not." Here the tears ran down his cheeks, and he thus proceeded. "It was to save them from absolute destruction I parted with your dear present, notwithstanding all the value I had for it: I sold the horse for them, and they have every farthing of the money."

Mr. Allworthy now stood silent for some moments, and before he spoke the tears started from his eyes. He at length dismissed Tom with a gentle rebuke, advising him for the future to apply to him in cases of distress, rather than to use extraordinary means of relieving them himself.

We must now leave Tom to grow up, his character being sufficiently foreshadowed by these childish events for the reader to understand what kind of a hero he is to make, easily enlisting the sympathy of people who love an honest, happy-go-lucky boy. Master Blifil, as may be supposed, by the artistic need of contrast, is drawn as a youth of every opposite quality to those of Tom.

A short hint of what we can do in the sublime, and a description of Miss Sophia Western.

Hushed be every ruder breath. May the heathen ruler of the winds confine in iron chains the boisterous limbs of noisy Boreas and the sharp-pointed nose of bitter-biting Eurus. Do thou, sweet Zephyrus, rising from thy fragrant bed, mount the western sky, and lead on those delicious gales, the charms of which call forth the lovely Flora from her chamber, perfumed with pearly dews, when on the 1st of June, her birthday, the blooming maid, in loose attire, gently trips it over the verdant mead, where every flower rises to do her homage, till the whole field becomes enamelled, and colors contend with sweets which shall ravish her most.

So charming may she now appear! and you the feathered choristers of nature, whose sweetest notes not even Handel can excel, tune your melodious throats to celebrate her appearance. From love proceeds your music, and to love it returns. Awaken therefore that gentle passion in every swain: for lo! adorned with all the charms in which nature can array her; bedecked with beauty, youth, sprightliness, innocence, modesty, and

tenderness, breathing sweetness from her rosy lips, and darting brightness from her sparkling eyes, the lovely Sophia comes !

Reader, perhaps thou hast seen the statue of the Venus de Medicis. Perhaps, too, thou hast seen the gallery of beauties at Hampton Court. Thou may'st remember each bright Churchill of the galaxy, and all the toasts of the Kit-cat. Or, if Toasts of the their reign was before thy times, at least thou hast seen their daughters, the no less dazzling beauties of the present age; whose names, should we here insert, we apprehend they would fill the whole volume.

Now if thou hast seen all these without knowing what beauty is, thou hast no eyes; if without feeling its power, thou hast .no heart.

Yet it is possible, my friend, that thou mayest have seen all these without being able to form an exact idea of Sophia, for she did not exactly resemble any of them. She was most like the picture of Lady Ranelegh; and, I have heard, more still to the famous Duchess of Mazarine; but most of all she resembled one whose image can never depart from my breast, and whom, if thou dost remember thou hast then, my friend, an adequate idea of Sophia.

Sophia, then, the only daughter of Mr. Western, was a middle sized woman, but rather inclining to tall. Her hair, which was black, was so luxuriant that it reached her middle, before she cut it to comply with the modern fashion. Her eyebrows were full, even and arched beyond the power of art to imitate. Her black eyes had a luster in them which all her softness could not extinguish. Her nose was exactly regular, and her mouth, in which were two rows of ivory, exactly answered Sir John Suckling's description in these lines:

Her lips were red, and one was thin,
Compar'd to that was next her chin,

(Some bee had stung it newly).

Her cheeks were of the oval kind; and in her right she had a dimple which the least smile discovered. Her chin had certainly its share in forming the beauty of her face, but it was difficult to say whether it was either large or small, though perhaps it was rather of the former kind. Her complexion had rather more of the lily than of the rose; but when exercise or modesty

Kit-cat.

Sir John Suckling's description.