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all its imperfections on its head, the play or the pamphlet must go. Indeed, he would have been no honest man had he kept them longer on his hands, with such urgent demands upon him as he had.

But as soon as he is put out of the reach of this base kind of want, his whole style changes, and instead of the reckless and slovenly hack-writer, we have one of the most minute and careful artists that ever lived. Dr. Beattie gave his testimony to the merit of "Tom Jones." Moral or immoral, let any man examine this romance as a work of art merely, aud it must strike him as the most astonishing production of human ingenuity. There is not an incident ever so trifling but advances the story, grows out of former incidents and is connected with the whole. Such a literary providence, if we may use such a word, is not to be seen in any other work of fiction. You might cut out the half of Don Quixote, or add, transpose, or alter any given romance of Walter Scott, and neither would suffer. Roderick Random, and heroes of that sort, run through a series of adventures, at the end of which the fiddles are brought and there is a marriage. But the history of Tom Jones connects the very first page with the very last, and it is marvellous to think how the author could have built and carried all this structure in his brain, as he must have done, before he began to put it to paper.

And now a word or two about our darling "Amelia," of which we have read through every single word in Mr. Roscoe's handsome edition. "As for Captain Booth, Madam," writes old Richardson to one of his toadies, "Captain Booth has done his business. The piece is short, is as dead as if it had been published forty years ago;" indeed, human nature is not altered since Richardson's time; and if there are rakes, male and female, as there were a hundred years since, there are in like manner envious critics now as then. How eager they are to predict a man's fall, how unwilling to acknowledge his rise! If a man write a popular work, he is sure to be snarled at; if a literary man rise to eminence out of his profession, all his old comrades are against him.

Well, in spite of Richardson's prophecies, the piece which was dead at its birth is alive a hundred years after, and will live, as we fancy, as long as the English language shall endure. Fielding, in his own noble words, has given a key to the philosophy of the work. "The nature of man," cries honest Dr. Harrison, "is far from being in itself evil; it abounds with benevolence, and charity, and pity, coveting praise and honor, and shunning shaine and disgrace. Bad education, bad habits, and bad customs debauch our nature, and drive it headlong into vice." And the author's tale is an exemplification of this text. Poor Booth's habits and customs are bad indeed, but who can deny the benevolence, and

charity, and pity, of this simple and kindly being? His vices even, if we may say so, are those of a man; there is nothing morbid or mawkish in any of Fielding's heroes; no passionate pleasing extenuatiou, such as one finds in the pseudo-moral romances of the sentimental character; no flashy excuses like those which Sheridan puts forward (unconsciously, most likely), for those brilliant blackguards who are the chief characters of his comedies. Vice is never to be mistaken for virtue in Fielding's honest downright books; it goes by its name, and invariably gets its punishment.

Besides the matchless character of Amelia, whose beauty and charming innocent consciousness of it (so delicately described by the novelist), whose tenderness and purity are such that they endear her to a reader as much as if she were actually alive, his own wife or mother, and make him consider her as some dear relative and companion of his own, about whose charms and virtues is scarcely modest to talk in public; besides Amelia, there are other characters, not so beautiful, but not less admirably true to nature. Miss Matthews is a wonderful portrait, and the vanity which inspires every one of the actions of that passionate, unscrupulous lady, the color as it were which runs through the whole of the picture is touched with a master's hand. Mrs. James, the indifferent woman, is not less skilful.

"Can this be my Jenny ?" cries poor Amelia, who runs forward to meet her old friend, and finds a pompous, frigid-looking personage in an enormous hoop, the very pink of the fashion; to which Mrs. James answers, "Madam, I believe I have done what was genteel," and wonders how any mortal can live up three pair of stairs. "Is there," says the enthusiastic for the first time in her life, "so delightful a sight in the world as the four honors in one's own hand, unless it be the three natural aces at brag?" Can comedy be finer than this? Has not every person some Matthews and James in their acquaintance-one all passion, and the other all indifference and vapid self-complacency? James, the goodnatured fellow, with passions and without principles: Bath, with his magnificent notions of throat-cutting and the Christian religion, what admirable knowledge of the world do all these characters display: what good moral may be drawn from them by those who will take the trouble to think! This, however, is not a task that the generality of novel-readers are disposed to take upon them, and prefer that their favorite works should contain as little reflection as possible; indeed, it is very probable that Mrs. James, or Miss Matthews might read their own characters as here described, and pronounce such writing vastly low and unnatural.

But what is especially worthy of remark is the masterly manner in which the author paints the good part of those equivocal char

acters that he brings upon his stage: James | FromRecollections of a Police-Officer" in Chambers's

has his generosity, and his silly wife her good nature; Matthews her starts of kindness; and

Old Bath, in his sister's dressing-gown, cook-FAR

Edinburgh Journal.
FLINT JACKSON.

ARNHAM hops are world-famous, or at ing possets for her, is really an amiable least famous in that huge portion of the ject, whom we like while we laugh at him. A world where English ale is drunk, and wheregreat deal of tenderness and love goes along on, I have a thousand times heard and read, with this kind of laughter, and it was this the sun never sets. The name, therefore, of mixed feeling that our author liked so to in- the pleasant Surrey village, in and about dulge himself in, and knew so well how to which the events I am about to relate occurred, excite in others. Whenever he has to relate is, I may fairly presume, known to many of an action of benevolence, honest Fielding my readers. I was ordered to Farnham, to kindles as he writes it: some writers of fic-investigate a case of burglary, committed in tion have been accused of falling in a passion the house of a gentleman of the name of Hurswith their bad characters: these our authorley, during the temporary absence of the treats with a philosophic calmness: it is when family, which had completely nonplussed the he comes to the good that he grows enthusi-unpractised Dogberrys of the place, albeit it astic: you fancy that you see the tears in his was not a riddle at all difficult to read. The manly eyes; nor does he care to disguise any premises, it was quickly plain to me, had been of the affectionate sympathies of his great, broken, not into, but out of; and a watch simple heart. This is a defect in art perhaps, being set upon the motions of the very spebut a very charming one. cious and clever person left in charge of the For further particulars of Fielding's life, house and property, it was speedily discoverwe recommend the reader to consult Mr. Ros-ed that the robbery had been effected by hercoe's biography. Indeed, as much as any of self and a confederate of the name of Dawkins, his romances, his own history illustrates the her brother-in-law. Some of the stolen goods maxim we have just quoted from Amelia. were found secreted at his lodgings; but the Want, sorrow, and pain subdued his body most valuable portion, consisting of plate, and at last, but his great and noble humor rode a small quantity of jewelry, had disappeared: buoyant over them all, and his frank and it had questionless been converted into momanly philosophy overcame them. His gen-ney, as considerable sums, in sovereigns, were erous attachment to his family comforted him to the last; and though all the labors of the poor fellow were only sufficient to keep him and them in a bare competence, yet it must be remembered, to his credit, that he left behind him a friend who valued him so much as to provide for the family he had left destitute, and to place them beyond the reach of want. It is some credit to a man to have been the friend of Ralph Allen; and Fielding before his death raised a monument to his friend a great deal more lasting than bronze or marble, placing his figure in the romance of Tom Jones under the name of Allworthy. "There is a day, sir," says Fielding in one of his dedications to Mr. Allen, "which no man in the kingdom can think of without fear, but yourself-the day of your death." Can there be a finer compliment? Nor was Fielding the man to pay it to one whom he thought was undeserving of it.

Never do Fielding's courage, cheerfulness, and affection forsake him; up to the last days of his life he is laboring still for his children. He dies, and is beholden to the admiration of a foreigner, Monsieur de Meryionnet, French consul at Lisbon, for a decent grave and tombstone. There he lies, sleeping after life's fitful fever. No more care, no more duns, no more racking pain, no more wild midnight orgies and jovial laughter. Of the women who are weeping for him a pious friend takes care. Here, indeed, it seems as if his sorrow ended; and one hopes and fancies that the poor but noble fellow's spirit is at last pure and

serene.

I

found upon both Dawkins and the woman, Sarah Purday. Now, as it had been clearly ascertained that neither of the prisoners had left Farnham since the burglary, it was manifest there was a receiver near at hand who had purchased the missing articles. Dawkins and Purday were, however, dumb as stones upon the subject; and nothing occurred to point suspicion till early in the evening previous to the second examination of the prisoners before the magistrates, when Sarah Purday asked for pen, ink, and paper for the purpose of writing to one Mr. Jackson, in whose service she had formerly lived. happened to be at the prison, and of course took the liberty of carefully unsealing her note and reading it. It revealed nothing; and save by its extremely cautions wording, and abrupt, peremptory tone, coming from a servant to her former master, suggested nothing. I had carefully reckoned the number of sheets of paper sent into the cell, and now on recounting them found that three were missing. The turnkey returned immediately, and asked for the two other letters she had written. The woman denied having written any other, and for proof pointed to the torn fragments of the missing sheets lying on the floor. These were gathered up and brought to me, but I could make nothing out of them, every word having been carefully run through with the pen, and converted into an unintelligible blot. The request contained in the actually-written letter was one simple enough in itself, merely, "that Mr. Jackson would not on any account fail to provide her, in consideration of past

services, with legal assistance on the morrow." | weather is fine and the yield abundant. I, The first nine words were strongly underlined; however, lost no time in making diligent and and I made out after a good deal of trouble that the word "pretence" had been partially effaced, and "account" substituted for it. "She need not have wasted three sheets of paper upon such a nonsensical request as that," observed the turnkey. "Old Jackson wouldn't shell out sixpence to save her or anybody else from the gallows."

"I am of a different opinion; but tell me, what sort of a person is this former master of hers ?"

"All I know about him is that he's a crossgrained, old curmudgeon, living about a mile out of Farnham, who scrapes money together by lending small sums upon notes-of-hand at short dates, and at a thundering interest. Flint Jackson folk about here call him."

"At all events, forward the letter at once, and to-morrow we shall see what we shall see. Good-evening."

minute inquiry as to the character and habits of Jackson, and the result was a full conviction that nothing but the fear of being denounced as an accomplice could have induced such a miserly, iron-hearted rogue to put himself to charges in defence of the imprisoned burglars.

One afternoon, whilst pondering the matter, and at the same time enjoying the prettiest and cheerfulest of rural sights, that of hop-picking, the apothecary at whose house I was lodging-we will call him Mr. Morgan; he was a Welshmann-tapped me suddenly on the shoulder, and looking sharply round, I perceived he had something he deemed of importance to communicate.

"What is it?" I said quickly.

"The oddest thing in the world. There's Flint Jackson, his deaf old woman, and the young people lodging with him, all drinking and boozing away at yon alehouse."

It turned out as I anticipated. A few minutes after the prisoners were brought into "Show them to me, if you please." the justice-room, a Guilford solicitor of much A few minutes brought us to the place of local celebrity arrived, and announced that boisterous entertainment, the lower room of he appeared for both the inculpated parties. which was suffocatingly full of tipplers and He was allowed a private conference with tobacco-smoke. We nevertheless contrived them, at the close of which he stated that his to edge ourselves in; and my companion clients would reserve their defence. They stealthily pointed out the group, who were were at once committed for trial, and I over-seated together near the farther window, and heard the solicitor assure the woman that the then left me to myself. ablest counsel on the circuit would be retained in their behalf.

The appearance of Jackson entirely answered to the popular prefix of Flint attached I had no longer a doubt that it was my to his name. He was a wiry, gnarled, heavyduty to know something further of this sud-browed, iron-jawed fellow of about sixty, denly-generous Flint Jackson, though how to set about it was a matter of considerable difficulty. There was no legal pretence for a search-warrant, and I doubted the prudence of proceeding upon my own responsibility with so astute an old fox as Jackson was represented to be; for, supposing him to be a confederate with the burglars, he had by this time in all probability sent the stolen property away-to London in all likelihood; and should I find nothing, the consequences of ransacking his house merely because he had provided a former servant with legal assistance would be serious. Under these circumstances I wrote to headquarters for instructions, and by return of post received orders to prosecute the inquiry thoroughly, but cautiously, and to consider time as nothing so long as there appeared a chance of fixing Jackson with the gnilt of receiving the plunder. Another suspicious circumstance that I have omitted to notice in its place was that the Guilford solicitor tendered bail for the prisoners to any reasonable amount, and named Enoch Jackson as one of the securities. Bail was, however, refused.

There was no need for over-hurrying the business, as the prisoners were committed to the Surrey Spring Assizes, and it was now the season of the hop-harvest-a delightful and hilarious period about Farnham when the

with deep-set eyes aglow with sinister and greedy instincts. His wife, older than he, and as deaf apparently as the door of a dungeon, wore a simpering, imbecile look of wonderment, it seemed to me, at the presence of such unusual and abundant cheer. The young people who lodged with Jackson were really a very frank, honest, good-looking couple, though not then appearing to advantagethe countenance of Henry Rogers being flushed and inflamed with drink, and that of his wife's clouded with frowns, at the situation in which she found herself, and the riotous conduct of her husband. Their brief history was this: They had both been servants in a family living not far distant from FarnhamSir Thomas Lethbridge's, I understoodwhen about three or four months previous to the present time Flint Jackson, who had once been in an attorney's office, discovered that Henry Rogers, in consequence of the death of a distant relative in London, was entitled to property worth something like £1500. There were, however, some law difficulties in the way, which Jackson offered, if the business were placed in his hands, to overcome for a consideration, and in the mean time to supply board and lodging and such necessary sums of money as Henry Rogers might require. With this brilliant prospect in view service became at once utterly distasteful.

The fortunate legatee had for some time | iterated Jackson, but this time unheard by courted Mary Elkins, one of the ladies' maids, Mrs. Rogers-"always, perpetually quarrela pretty, bright-eyed brunette; and they ling!" were both united in the bonds of holy matrimony on the very day the "warnings" they had given expired. Since then they had lived at Jackson's house in daily expectation of their "fortune," with which they proposed to start in the public line.

I could not quite comprehend all this. If so large a sum as £1500 was really coming to the young man, why should Jackson wince as he did at disbursing small amounts which he could repay himself with abundant interest? If otherwise-and it was probable he Finding myself unrecognized, I called bold- should not be repaid-what meant his eternal, ly for a pot and a pipe, and after some ma- "fine generous lad!" "spirited young man!" noeuvring contrived to seat myself within ear- and so on? What, above all, meant that shot of Jackson and his party. They pre-look of diabolical hate which shot out from sented a strange study. Henry Rogers was his cavernous eyes towards Henry Rogers boisterously excited, and not only drinking when he thought himself unobserved, just freely himself, but treating a dozen fellows after satisfying a fresh claim on his purse? round him, the cost of which he from time to Much practice in reading the faces and detime called upon "Old Flint," as he courte-portment of such men made it pretty clear to ously styled his ancient friend, to discharge. me that Jackson's course of action respecting "Come, fork out, Old Flint!" he cried the young man and his money was not yet again and again. "It'll be all right, you decided upon in his own mind; that he was know, in a day or two, and a few halfpence still perplexed and irresolute; and hence the over. Shell out, old fellow! What signifies, apparent contradiction in his words and acts. so you're happy ?”

Jackson complied with an affectation of ac"quiescent gayety ludicrous to behold. It was evident that each successive pull at his purse was like wrenching a tooth out of his head, and yet while the dismallest of smiles wrinkled his wolfish mouth, he kept exclaiming: "A fine lad—a fine lad! generous as a princegenerous as a prince! Good Lord, another round! He minds money no more than as if gold was as plentiful as gravel! But a fine generous lad for all that!"

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Henry Rogers at length dropped asleep with his head upon one of the settle-tables Jackson sank into sullen silence; the noisy room grew quiet; and I came away.

I was impressed with a belief that Jackson entertained some sinister design against his youthful and inexperienced lodgers, and I determined to acquaint them with my suspicions. For this purpose Mr. Morgan, who had a patient living near Jackson's house, undertook to invite them to tea on some early evening, on the pretence that he had heard Jackson, I perceived, drank considerably, of a tavern that might suit them when they as if incited thereto by compressed savage- should receive their fortune. Let me confess, ness. The pretty young wife would not taste too, that I had another design besides puta drop, but tears frequently filled her eyes, ting the young people on their guard against and bitterness pointed her words as she vain-Jackson. I thought it very probable that it ly implored her husband to leave the place and go home with her. To all her remonstrances the maudlin drunkard replied only by foolery, varied occasionally by an attempt at a line or two of the song of "The Thorn." "But you will plant thorns, Henry," rejoined the provoked wife in a louder and angrier tone than she ought perhaps to have used-"not only in my bosom, but your own, if you go on in this sottish, disgraceful way." "Always quarrelling, always quarrelling!" remarked Jackson, pointedly, towards the bystanders "always quarrelling!"

"Who is always quarrelling?" demanded the young wife sharply. "Do you mean me and Henry?"

"I was only saying, my dear, that you don't like your husband to be so generous and free-hearted-that's all," replied Jackson, with a confidential wink at the persons near him.

would not be difficult to glean from them some interesting and suggestive particulars concerning the ways, means, practices, outgoings and incomings, of their worthy landlord's household.

Four more days passed unprofitably away, and I was becoming weary of the business, when about five o'clock in the afternoon the apothecary galloped up to his door on a borrowed horse, jumped off with surprising celerity, and with a face as white as his own magnesia, burst out as he hurried into the room where I was sitting: "Here's a pretty kettle of fish! Henry Rogers has been poisoned, and by his wife!"

"Poisoned!"

"Yes, poisoned; although, thanks to my being on the spot, I think he will recover. But I must instantly to Dr. Edwards: I will tell you all when I return."

The promised "all" was this: Morgan was "Free-hearted and generous! Fool-heart-passing slowly by Jackson's house, in the hope ed and crazy, you mean!" rejoined the wife, of seeing either Mr. or Mrs. Rogers, when the who was much excited. "And you ought to servant-woman, Jane Riddet, ran out and be ashamed of yourself to give him money for begged him to come in, as their lodger had such brutish purposes." been taken suddenly ill. Ill indeed! The "Always quarrelling, always quarrelling!" | surface of his body was cold as death, and

"No soap!" echoed the woman with a stare of surprise. "Why"

"No-no soap," hastily broke in her master with loud and menacing emphasis. "There was not a morsel in the house. I bought

The cowed and bewildered woman slunk away. I was more than satisfied; and judging by Jackson's countenance, which changed beneath my look to the color of the limewashed wall against which he stood, he sur

My conviction, however, was not evidence, and I felt that I should need even more than my wonted good fortune to bring the black crime home to the real perpetrator. For the present, at all events, I must keep silence-a resolve I found hard to persist in at the exa

the apothecary quickly discovered that he had been poisoned with sulphuric acid (oil of vitriol), a quantity of which he, Morgan, had sold a few days previously to Mrs. Rogers, who, when purchasing it, said Mr. Jackson wanted it to apply to some warts that annoy-some afterwards in Farnham." ed him. Morgan fortunately knew the proper remedy, and desired Jackson, who was in the room, and seemingly very anxious and flurried, to bring some soap instantly, a solution of which he proposed to give immediately to the seemingly dying man. The woman-ser-mised that I was. vant was gone to find Mrs. Rogers, who had left about ten minutes before, having first made the tea in which the poison had been taken. Jackson hurried out of the apartment, but was gone so long that Morgan, becoming impatient, scraped a quantity of plaster off the wall, and administered it with the best effect.mination of the accused wife, an hour or two At last Jackson came back, and said there was unfortunately not a particle of soap in the house. A few minutes afterwards the young wife, alarmed at the woman-servant's tidings, flew into the room in an agony of alarm and grief. Simulated alarm, crocodile grief, Mr. Morgan said; for there could, in his opinion, be no doubt that she had attempted to destroy her husband. Mr. Jackson, on being questioned, peremptorily denied that he had ever desired Mrs. Rogers to procure sulphuric acid for him, or had received any from her-a statement which so confounded the young woman that she instantly fainted. The upshot was that Mrs. Rogers was taken into custody and lodged in prison.

This terrible news flew through Farnham like wildfire. In a few minutes it was upon every body's tongue: the hints of the quarrelsome life the young couple led, artfully spread by Jackson, were recalled, and no doubt appeared to be entertained of the truth of the dreadful charge. I had no doubt either, but my conviction was not that of the Farnham folk. This, then, was the solution of the struggle I had seen going on in Jackson's mind; this the realization of the dark thought which I had imperfectly read in the sinister glances of his restless eyes. He had intended to destroy both the husband and wife-the one by poison, and the other by the law Doubtless, then, the £1500 had been obtained, and this was the wretched man's infernal device for retaining it! I went over with Morgan early the next morning to see the patient, and found that, thanks to the prompt antidote administered, and Dr. Edwards's subsequent active treatment, he was rapidly recovering. The still-suffering young man, I was glad to find, would not believe for a moment in his wife's guilt. I watched the looks and movements of Jackson attentively-a scrutiny which he, now aware of my vocation, by no means appeared to relish.

afterwards, before the county magistrates. Jackson had hardened himself to iron, and gave his lying evidence with ruthless selfpossession. He had not desired Mrs. Rogers to purchase sulphuric acid; had not received any from her. In addition also to his testimony that she and her husband were always quarrelling, it was proved by a respectable person that high words had passed between them on the evening previous to the day the criminal offence was committed, and that foolish, passionate expressions had escaped her about wishing to be rid of such a drunken wretch. This evidence, combined with the medical testimony, appeared so conclusive to the magistraaes, that spite of the unfortunate woman's wild protestations of innocence, and the rending agony which convulsed her frame, and almost choked her utterance, she was remanded to prison till that day week, when, the magistrates informed her, she would be again brought up for the merely formal completion of the depositions, and be then fully committed on the capital charge.

I was greatly disturbed, and walked for two or three hours about the quiet neighborhood of Farnham, revolving a hundred fragments of schemes for bringing the truth to light, without arriving at any feasible conclusion. One only mode of procedure seemed to offer, and that but dimly, a hope of success. was, however, the best I could hit upon, and I directed my steps towards the Farnham prison. Sarah Purday had not yet, I remembered, been removed to the county jail at Guilford.

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"Is Sarah Purday," I asked the turnkey, more reconciled to her position than she was?"

"She's just the same-bitter as gall, and venomous as a viper."

This woman, I should state, was a person of fierce will and strong passions, and in early life had been respectably situated.

"Just step into her cell," I continued, "up

"Pray," said I, suddenly addressing Riddet, the woman-servant-" pray, how did it hap-on some excuse or other, and carelessly drop pen that you had no soap in such a house as this yesterday evening ?"

VOL. V.-NO. 1.-6

a hint that if she could prevail upon Jackson to get her brought by habeas before a judge

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