_ Chapter VII - Containing a very extraordinary and pleasant incident.
The next evening Booth and Amelia went to walk in the park with their
children. They were now on the verge of the parade, and Booth was
describing to his wife the several buildings round it, when, on a
sudden, Amelia, missing her little boy, cried out, "Where's little
Billy?" Upon which, Booth, casting his eyes over the grass, saw a
foot-soldier shaking the boy at a little distance. At this sight,
without making any answer to his wife, he leapt over the rails, and,
running directly up to the fellow, who had a firelock with a bayonet
fixed in his hand, he seized him by the collar and tript up his heels,
and, at the same time, wrested his arms from him. A serjeant upon
duty, seeing the affray at some distance, ran presently up, and, being
told what had happened, gave the centinel a hearty curse, and told him
he deserved to be hanged. A by-stander gave this information; for
Booth was returned with his little boy to meet Amelia, who staggered
towards him as fast as she could, all pale and breathless, and scarce
able to support her tottering limbs. The serjeant now came up to
Booth, to make an apology for the behaviour of the soldier, when, of a
sudden, he turned almost as pale as Amelia herself. He stood silent
whilst Booth was employed in comforting and recovering his wife; and
then, addressing himself to him, said, "Bless me! lieutenant, could I
imagine it had been your honour; and was it my little master that the
rascal used so?--I am glad I did not know it, for I should certainly
have run my halbert into him."
Booth presently recognised his old faithful servant Atkinson, and gave
him a hearty greeting, saying he was very glad to see him in his
present situation. "Whatever I am," answered the serjeant, "I shall
always think I owe it to your honour." Then, taking the little boy by
the hand he cried, "What a vast fine young gentleman master is grown!"
and, cursing the soldier's inhumanity, swore heartily he would make
him pay for it.
As Amelia was much disordered with her fright, she did not recollect
her foster-brother till he was introduced to her by Booth; but she no
sooner knew him than she bestowed a most obliging smile on him; and,
calling him by the name of honest Joe, said she was heartily glad to
see him in England. "See, my dear," cries Booth, "what preferment your
old friend is come to. You would scarce know him, I believe, in his
present state of finery." "I am very well pleased to see it," answered
Amelia, "and I wish him joy of being made an officer with all my
heart." In fact, from what Mr. Booth said, joined to the serjeant's
laced coat, she believed that he had obtained a commission. So weak
and absurd is human vanity, that this mistake of Amelia's possibly put
poor Atkinson out of countenance, for he looked at this instant more
silly than he had ever done in his life; and, making her a most
respectful bow, muttered something about obligations, in a scarce
articulate or intelligible manner.
The serjeant had, indeed, among many other qualities, that modesty
which a Latin author honours by the name of ingenuous: nature had
given him this, notwithstanding the meanness of his birth; and six
years' conversation in the army had not taken it away. To say the
truth, he was a noble fellow; and Amelia, by supposing he had a
commission in the guards, had been guilty of no affront to that
honourable body.
Booth had a real affection for Atkinson, though, in fact, he knew not
half his merit. He acquainted him with his lodgings, where he
earnestly desired to see him.
[Illustration: _He seized him by the collar._]
Amelia, who was far from being recovered from the terrors into which
the seeing her husband engaged with the soldier had thrown her,
desired to go home: nor was she well able to walk without some
assistance. While she supported herself, therefore, on her husband's
arm, she told Atkinson she should be obliged to him if he would take
care of the children. He readily accepted the office; but, upon
offering his hand to miss, she refused, and burst into tears. Upon
which the tender mother resigned Booth to her children, and put
herself under the serjeant's protection; who conducted her safe home,
though she often declared she feared she should drop down by the way;
the fear of which so affected the serjeant (for, besides the honour
which he himself had for the lady, he knew how tenderly his friend
loved her) that he was unable to speak; and, had not his nerves been
so strongly braced that nothing could shake them, he had enough in his
mind to have set him a trembling equally with the lady.
When they arrived at the lodgings the mistress of the house opened the
door, who, seeing Amelia's condition, threw open the parlour and
begged her to walk in, upon which she immediately flung herself into a
chair, and all present thought she would have fainted away. However,
she escaped that misery, and, having drank a glass of water with a
little white wine mixed in it, she began in a little time to regain
her complexion, and at length assured Booth that she was perfectly
recovered, but declared she had never undergone so much, and earnestly
begged him never to be so rash for the future. She then called her
little boy and gently chid him, saying, "You must never do so more,
Billy; you see what mischief you might have brought upon your father,
and what you have made me suffer." "La! mamma," said the child, "what
harm did I do? I did not know that people might not walk in the green
fields in London. I am sure if I did a fault, the man punished me
enough for it, for he pinched me almost through my slender arm." He
then bared his little arm, which was greatly discoloured by the injury
it had received. Booth uttered a most dreadful execration at this
sight, and the serjeant, who was now present, did the like.
Atkinson now returned to his guard and went directly to the officer to
acquaint him with the soldier's inhumanity, but he, who was about
fifteen years of age, gave the serjeant a great curse and said the
soldier had done very well, for that idle boys ought to be corrected.
This, however, did not satisfy poor Atkinson, who, the next day, as
soon as the guard was relieved, beat the fellow most unmercifully, and
told him he would remember him as long as he stayed in the regiment.
Thus ended this trifling adventure, which some readers will, perhaps,
be pleased at seeing related at full length. None, I think, can fail
drawing one observation from it, namely, how capable the most
insignificant accident is of disturbing human happiness, and of
producing the most unexpected and dreadful events. A reflexion which
may serve to many moral and religious uses.
This accident produced the first acquaintance between the mistress of
the house and her lodgers; for hitherto they had scarce exchanged a
word together. But the great concern which the good woman had shewn on
Amelia's account at this time, was not likely to pass unobserved or
unthanked either by the husband or wife. Amelia, therefore, as soon as
she was able to go up-stairs, invited Mrs. Ellison (for that was her
name) to her apartment, and desired the favour of her to stay to
supper. She readily complied, and they past a very agreeable evening
together, in which the two women seemed to have conceived a most
extraordinary liking to each other.
Though beauty in general doth not greatly recommend one woman to
another, as it is too apt to create envy, yet, in cases where this
passion doth not interfere, a fine woman is often a pleasing object
even to some of her own sex, especially when her beauty is attended
with a certain air of affability, as was that of Amelia in the highest
degree. She was, indeed, a most charming woman; and I know not whether
the little scar on her nose did not rather add to than diminish her
beauty.
Mrs. Ellison, therefore, was as much charmed with the loveliness of
her fair lodger as with all her other engaging qualities. She was,
indeed, so taken with Amelia's beauty, that she could not refrain from
crying out in a kind of transport of admiration, "Upon my word,
Captain Booth, you are the happiest man in the world! Your lady is so
extremely handsome that one cannot look at her without pleasure."
This good woman had herself none of these attractive charms to the
eye. Her person was short and immoderately fat; her features were none
of the most regular; and her complexion (if indeed she ever had a good
one) had considerably suffered by time.
Her good humour and complaisance, however, were highly pleasing to
Amelia. Nay, why should we conceal the secret satisfaction which that
lady felt from the compliments paid to her person? since such of my
readers as like her best will not be sorry to find that she was a
woman. _