10. CHAPTER X.
In which our travellers meet with a very extraordinary adventure
Just as Jones and his friend came to the end of their dialogue in
the preceding chapter, they arrived at the bottom of a very steep
hill. Here Jones stopt short, and directing his eyes upwards, stood
for a while silent. At length he called to his companion, and said,
"Partridge, I wish I was at the top of this hill: it must certainly
afford a most charming prospect, especially by this light; for the
solemn gloom which the moon casts on all objects, is beyond expression
beautiful, especially to an imagination which is desirous of
cultivating melancholy ideas."- "Very probably," answered Partridge;
"but if the top of the hill be properest to produce melancholy
thoughts, I suppose the bottom is the likeliest to produce merry ones,
and these I take to be much the better of the two. I protest you
have made my blood run cold with the very mentioning the top of that
mountain; which seems to me to be one of the highest in the world. No,
no, if we look for anything, let it be for a place under ground, to
screen ourselves from the frost."- "Do so," said Jones; "let it be
but within hearing of this place, and I will hallow to you at my
return back."- "Surely, sir, you are not mad," said Partridge.-
"Indeed, I am," answered Jones, "if ascending this hill be madness;
but as you complain so much of the cold already, I would have you stay
below. I will certainly return to you within an hour."- "Pardon me,
sir," cries Partridge; "I have determined to follow you wherever you
go." Indeed he was now afraid to stay behind; though he was coward
enough in all respects, yet his chief fear was that of ghosts, with
which the present time of night, and the wildness of the place,
extremely well suited.
At this instant Partridge espied a glimmering light through some
trees, which seemed very near to them. He immediately cried out in a
rapture, "Oh, sir! Heaven hath at last heard my prayers, and hath
brought us a house; perhaps it may be an inn. Let beseech you, sir, if
you have any compassion either for me or yourself, do not despise
the goodness of Providence, but let us go directly to yon light.
Whether it be a public-house or no, I am sure if they be Christians
that well there, they will not refuse a little house-room to persons
in our miserable condition." Jones at length yielded to the earnest
supplications of Partridge, and both together made directly towards
the place whence the light issued.
They soon arrived at the door of this house, or cottage, for it
might be called either, without much impropriety. Here Jones knocked
several times without receiving any answer from within; at which
Partridge, whose head was full of nothing but of ghosts, devils,
witches, and such like, began to tremble, crying, "Lord, have mercy
upon us! surely the people must be all dead. I can see no light
neither now, and yet I am certain I saw a candle burning but a
moment before.- Well! I have heard of such things."- "What hast thou
heard of?" said Jones. "The people are either fast asleep, or
probably, as this is a lonely place, are afraid to open their door."
He then began to vociferate pretty loudly, and at last an old woman,
opening an upper casement, asked, Who they were, and what they wanted?
Jones answered, They were travellers who had lost their way, and
having seen a light in window, had been led thither in hopes of
finding some fire to warm themselves. "Whoever you are," cries the
woman, "you have no business here; nor shall I open the door to any at
this time of night." Partridge, whom the sound of a human voice had
recovered from his fright, fell to the most earnest supplications to
be admitted for a few minutes to fire, saying, he was almost dead with
the cold; to which fear had indeed contributed equally with the frost.
He assured her that the gentleman who spoke to her was one of the
greatest squires in the country; and made use of every argument,
save one, which Jones afterwards effectually added; and this was,
the promise of half-a-crown;- a bribe too great to be resisted by
such a person, especially as the genteel appearance of Jones, which
the light of the moon plainly discovered to her, together with his
affable behaviour, had entirely subdued those apprehensions of thieves
which she had at first conceived. She agreed, therefore, at last, to
let them in; where Partridge, to his infinite joy, found a good fire
ready for his reception.
The poor fellow, however, had no sooner warmed himself, than those
thoughts which were always uppermost in his mind, began a little to
disturb his brain. There was no article of his creed in which he had a
stronger faith than he had in witchcraft, nor can the reader
conceive a figure more adapted to inspire this idea, than the old
woman who now stood before him. She answered exactly to that picture
drawn by Otway in his Orphan. Indeed, if this woman had lived in the
reign of James the First, her appearance alone would have hanged
her, almost without any evidence.
Many circumstances likewise conspired to confirm Partridge in his
opinion. Her living, as he then imagined, by herself in so lonely a
place; and in a house, the outside of which seemed much too good for
her, but its inside was furnished in the most neat and elegant manner.
To say the truth, Jones himself was not a little surprized at what
he saw; for, besides the extraordinary neatness of the room, it was
adorned with a great number of nick-nacks and curiosities, which might
have engaged the attention of a virtuoso.
While Jones was admiring these things, and Partridge sat trembling
with the firm belief that he was in the house of a witch, the old
woman said, "I hope, gentlemen, you will make what haste you can;
for I expect my master presently, and I would not for double the money
he should find you here."- "Then you have a master?" cried Jones.
"Indeed, you will excuse me, good woman, but I was surprized to see
all those fine things in your house."- "Ah, said she, "if the
twentieth part of these things were mine, I should think myself a rich
woman. But pray, sir, do not stay much longer, for I look for him in
every minute."- "Why, sure he would not be angry with you," said
Jones, "for doing a common act of charity?"- "Alack-a-day, sir!" said
she, "he is a strange man, not at all like other people. He keeps no
company with anybody, and seldom walks out but by night, for he doth
not care to be seen; and all the country people are as much afraid of
meeting him; for his dress is enough to frighten those who are not
used to it. They call him, the Man of the Hill (for there he walks
by night), and the country people are not, I believe, more afraid of
the devil himself. He would be terribly angry if he found you
here."- "Pray, sir," says Partridge, "don't let us offend the
gentleman; I am ready to walk, and was never warmer in my life. Do
pray, sir, let us go. Here are pistols over the chimney: who knows
whether they be charged or no, or what he may do with them?"- "Fear
nothing, Partridge," cries Jones; "I will secure thee from
danger."- "Nay, for matter o' that, he never doth any mischief," said
the woman; "but to be sure it is necessary he should keep some arms
for his own safety; for his house hath been beset more than once;
and it is not many nights ago that we thought we heard thieves about
it: for my own part, I have often wondered that he is not murdered
by some villain or other, as he walks out by himself at such hours;
but then, as I said, the people are afraid of him; and besides, they
think, I suppose, he hath nothing about him worth taking."- "I should
imagine, by this collection of rarities," cries Jones, "that your
master had been a traveller."- "Yes, sir," answered she, "he hath
been a very great one: there be few gentlemen that know more of all
matters than he. I fancy he hath been crost in love, or whatever it is
I know not; but I have lived with him above these thirty years, and in
all that time he hath hardly spoke to six living people." She then
again solicited their departure, in which she was backed by Partridge;
but Jones purposely protracted the time, for his curiosity was greatly
raised to see this extraordinary person. Though the old woman,
therefore, concluded every one of her answers with desiring him to
be gone, and Partridge proceeded so far as to pull him by the
sleeve, he still continued to invent new questions, till the old
woman, with an affrighted countenance, declared she heard her master's
signal; and at the same instant more than one voice was heard
without the door, crying, "D--n your blood, show us your money this
instant. Your money, you villain, or we will blow your brains about
your ears."
"O, good heaven!" cries the old woman, "some villains, to be sure,
have attacked my master. O la! what shall I do? what shall I do?"-
"How!" cries Jones, "how!- Are these pistols loaded?"- "O, good sir,
there is nothing in them, indeed. O pray don't murder us, gentlemen!"
(for in reality she now had the same opinion of those within as she
had of those without). Jones made her no answer; but snatching an old
broad sword which hung in the room, he instantly sallied out, where he
found the old gentleman struggling with two ruffians, and begging for
mercy. Jones asked no questions, but fell so briskly to work with his
broad sword, that the fellows immediately quitted their hold; and
without offering to attack our heroe, betook themselves to their heels
and made their escape; for he did not attempt to pursue them, being
contented with having delivered the old gentleman; and indeed he
concluded he had pretty well done their business, for both of them, as
they ran off, cried out with bitter oaths that they were dead men.
Jones presently ran to lift up the old gentleman, who had been
thrown down in the scuffle, expressing at the same time great
concern lest he should have received any harm from the villains. The
old man stared a moment at Jones, and then cried, "No, sir, no, I have
very little harm, I thank you. Lord have mercy upon me!"- "I see,
sir," said Jones, "you are not free from apprehensions even of those
who have had the happiness to be your deliverers; nor can I blame any
suspicions which you may have; but indeed you have no real occasion
for any; here are none but your friends present. Having mist our way
this cold night, we took the liberty of warming ourselves at your
fire, whence we were just departing when we heard you call for
assistance, which, I must say, Providence alone seems to have sent
you."- "Providence, indeed," cries the old gentleman, "if it be
so."- "So it is, I assure you," cries Jones. "Here is your own sword,
sir; I have used it in your defence, and I now return it into your
hand." The old man having received the sword, which was stained with
the blood of his enemies, looked stedfastly at Jones during some
moments, and then with a sigh cried out, "You will pardon me, young
gentleman; I was not always of a suspicious temper, nor am I a
friend to ingratitude."
"Be thankful then," cries Jones, "to that Providence to which you
owe your deliverance: as to my part, I have only discharged the common
duties of humanity, and what I would have done for any fellow-creature
in your situation."- "Let me look at you a little longer," cries the
old gentleman. "You are a human creature then? Well, perhaps you
are. Come pray walk into my little hutt. You have been my deliverer
indeed."
The old woman was distracted between the fears which she had of
her master, and for him; and Partridge was, if possible, in a
greater fright. The former of these, however, when she heard her
master speak kindly to Jones, and perceived what had happened, came
again to herself; but Partridge no sooner saw the gentleman, than
the strangeness of his dress infused greater terrors into that poor
fellow than he had before felt, either from the strange description
which he had heard, or from the uproar which had happened at the door.
To say the truth, it was an appearance which might have affected a
more constant mind than that of Mr. Partridge. This person was of
the tallest size, with a long beard as white as snow. His body was
cloathed with the skin of an ass, made something into the form of a
coat. He wore likewise boots on his legs, and a cap on his head,
both composed of the skin of some other animals.
As soon as the old gentleman came into his house, the old woman
began her congratulations on his happy escape from the ruffians.
"Yes," cried he, "I have escaped, indeed, thanks to my preserver."-
"O the blessing on him!" answered she: "he is a good gentleman, I
warrant him. I was afraid your worship would have been angry with me
for letting him in; and to be certain I should not have done it, had
not I seen by the moon-light, that he was a gentleman, and almost
frozen to death. And to be certain it must have been some good angel
that sent him hither, and tempted me to do it."
"I am afraid, sir," said the old gentleman to Jones, "that I have
nothing in this house which you can either eat or drink, unless you
will accept a dram of brandy; of which I can give you some most
excellent, and which I have had by me these thirty years." Jones
declined this offer in a very civil and proper speech, and then the
other asked him, "Whither he was travelling when he mist his way?"
saying, "I must own myself surprized to see such a person as you
appear to be, journeying on foot at this time of night. I suppose,
sir, you are a gentleman of these parts; for you do not look like
one who is used to travel far without horses?"
"Appearances," cried Jones, "are often deceitful; men sometimes look
what they are not. I assure you I am not of this country; and
whither I am travelling, in reality I scarce know myself."
"Whoever you are, or whithersoever you are going," answered the
old man, "I have obligations to you which I can never return."
"I once more," replied Jones, "affirm that you have none; for
there can be no merit in having hazarded that in your service on which
I set no value; and nothing is so contemptible in my eyes as life."
"I am sorry, young gentleman," answered the stranger, "that you have
any reason to be so unhappy at your years."
"Indeed I am, sir," answered Jones, "the most unhappy of mankind."-
"Perhaps you have had a friend, or a mistress?" replied the other.
"How could you," cries Jones, "mention two words sufficient to drive
me to distraction?"- "Either of them are enough to drive any man to
distraction," answered the old man. "I enquire no farther, sir;
perhaps my curiosity hath led me too far already."
"Indeed, sir," cries Jones, "I cannot censure a passion which I feel
at this instant in the highest degree. You will pardon me when I
assure you, that everything which I have seen or heard since I first
entered this house hath conspired to raise the greatest curiosity in
me. Something very extraordinary must have determined you to this
course of life, and I have reason to fear your own history is not
without misfortunes."
Here the old gentleman again sighed, and remained silent for some
minutes: at last, looking earnestly on Jones, he said, "I have read
that a good countenance is a letter of recommendation; if so, none
ever can be more strongly recommended than yourself. If I did not feel
some yearnings towards you from another consideration, I must be the
most ungrateful monster upon earth; and I am really concerned it is no
otherwise in my power than by words to convince you of my gratitude."
Jones, after a moment's hesitation, answered, "That it was in his
power by words to gratify him extremely. I have confest a
curiosity," said he, "sir; need I say how much obliged I should be
to you, if you would condescend to gratify it? Will you suffer me
therefore to beg, unless any consideration restrains you, that you
would be pleased to acquaint me what motives have induced you thus
to withdraw from the society of mankind, and to betake yourself to a
course of life to which it sufficiently appears you were not born?"
"I scarce think myself at liberty to refuse you anything after
what hath happened," replied the old man. "If you desire therefore
to hear the story of an unhappy man, I will relate it to you. Indeed
you judge rightly, in thinking there is commonly ordinary in the
fortunes of those who fly from society; for however it may seem a
paradox, or even a contradiction, certain it is, that great
philanthropy chiefly inclines us to avoid and detest mankind; not on
account so much of their private and selfish vices, but for those of a
relative kind; such as envy, malice, treachery, cruelty, and every
other species of malevolence. These are the vices which true
philanthropy abhors, and which rather than see and converse with,
she avoids society itself. However, without a compliment to you, you
do not appear to me one of those whom I should shun or detest; nay,
I must say, in what little hath dropt from you, there appears some
parity in our fortunes: I hope, however, yours will conclude more
successfully."
Here some compliments passed between our heroe and his host, and
then the latter was going to begin his history, when Partridge
interrupted him. His apprehensions had now pretty well left him, but
some effects of his terrors remained; he therefore reminded the
gentleman of that excellent brandy which he had mentioned. This was
presently brought, and Partridge swallowed a large bumper.
The gentleman then, without any farther preface, began as you may
read in the next chapter.