Joseph Andrews, Vol. 1

  CHAPTER XI.

  _Of several new matters not expected._

  It is an observation sometimes made, that to indicate our idea of asimple fellow, we say, he is easily to be seen through: nor do I believeit a more improper denotation of a simple book. Instead of applying thisto any particular performance, we chuse rather to remark the contrary inthis history, where the scene opens itself by small degrees; and he is asagacious reader who can see two chapters before him.

  For this reason, we have not hitherto hinted a matter which now seemsnecessary to be explained; since it may be wondered at, first, thatJoseph made such extraordinary haste out of town, which hath beenalready shewn; and secondly, which will be now shewn, that, instead ofproceeding to the habitation of his father and mother, or to his belovedsister Pamela, he chose rather to set out full speed to the Lady Booby'scountry-seat, which he had left on his journey to London.

  Be it known, then, that in the same parish where this seat stood therelived a young girl whom Joseph (though the best of sons and brothers)longed more impatiently to see than his parents or his sister. She was apoor girl, who had formerly been bred up in Sir John's family; whence, alittle before the journey to London, she had been discarded by MrsSlipslop, on account of her extraordinary beauty: for I never could findany other reason.

  This young creature (who now lived with a farmer in the parish) had beenalways beloved by Joseph, and returned his affection. She was two yearsonly younger than our hero. They had been acquainted from their infancy,and had conceived a very early liking for each other; which had grown tosuch a degree of affection, that Mr Adams had with much ado preventedthem from marrying, and persuaded them to wait till a few years' serviceand thrift had a little improved their experience, and enabled them tolive comfortably together.

  They followed this good man's advice, as indeed his word was little lessthan a law in his parish; for as he had shown his parishioners, by anuniform behaviour of thirty-five years' duration, that he had their goodentirely at heart, so they consulted him on every occasion, and veryseldom acted contrary to his opinion.

  Nothing can be imagined more tender than was the parting between thesetwo lovers. A thousand sighs heaved the bosom of Joseph, a thousandtears distilled from the lovely eyes of Fanny (for that was her name).Though her modesty would only suffer her to admit his eager kisses, herviolent love made her more than passive in his embraces; and she oftenpulled him to her breast with a soft pressure, which though perhaps itwould not have squeezed an insect to death, caused more emotion in theheart of Joseph than the closest Cornish hug could have done.

  The reader may perhaps wonder that so fond a pair should, during atwelvemonth's absence, never converse with one another: indeed, therewas but one reason which did or could have prevented them; and this was,that poor Fanny could neither write nor read: nor could she be prevailedupon to transmit the delicacies of her tender and chaste passion by thehands of an amanuensis.

  They contented themselves therefore with frequent inquiries after eachother's health, with a mutual confidence in each other's fidelity, andthe prospect of their future happiness.

  Having explained these matters to our reader, and, as far as possible,satisfied all his doubts, we return to honest Joseph, whom we left justset out on his travels by the light of the moon.

  Those who have read any romance or poetry, antient or modern, must havebeen informed that love hath wings: by which they are not to understand,as some young ladies by mistake have done, that a lover can fly; thewriters, by this ingenious allegory, intending to insinuate no more thanthat lovers do not march like horse-guards; in short, that they put thebest leg foremost; which our lusty youth, who could walk with any man,did so heartily on this occasion, that within four hours he reached afamous house of hospitality well known to the western traveller. Itpresents you a lion on the sign-post: and the master, who was christenedTimotheus, is commonly called plain Tim. Some have conceived that hehath particularly chosen the lion for his sign, as he doth incountenance greatly resemble that magnanimous beast, though hisdisposition savours more of the sweetness of the lamb. He is a personwell received among all sorts of men, being qualified to render himselfagreeable to any; as he is well versed in history and politics, hath asmattering in law and divinity, cracks a good jest, and playswonderfully well on the French horn.

  A violent storm of hail forced Joseph to take shelter in this inn, wherehe remembered Sir Thomas had dined in his way to town. Joseph had nosooner seated himself by the kitchen fire than Timotheus, observing hislivery, began to condole the loss of his late master; who was, he said,his very particular and intimate acquaintance, with whom he had crackedmany a merry bottle, ay many a dozen, in his time. He then remarked,that all these things were over now, all passed, and just as if they hadnever been; and concluded with an excellent observation on the certaintyof death, which his wife said was indeed very true. A fellow now arrivedat the same inn with two horses, one of which he was leading fartherdown into the country to meet his master; these he put into the stable,and came and took his place by Joseph's side, who immediately knew himto be the servant of a neighbouring gentleman, who used to visit attheir house.

  This fellow was likewise forced in by the storm; for he had orders to gotwenty miles farther that evening, and luckily on the same road whichJoseph himself intended to take. He, therefore, embraced thisopportunity of complimenting his friend with his master's horse(notwithstanding he had received express commands to the contrary),which was readily accepted; and so, after they had drank a loving pot,and the storm was over, they set out together.