Chapter ii.

Containing a very surprizing adventure indeed, which Mr Jones met with

in his walk with the Man of the Hill.

Aurora now first opened her casement, _Anglice_ the day began to

break, when Jones walked forth in company with the stranger, and

mounted Mazard Hill; of which they had no sooner gained the summit

than one of the most noble prospects in the world presented itself to

their view, and which we would likewise present to the reader, but for

two reasons: first, we despair of making those who have seen this

prospect admire our description; secondly, we very much doubt whether

those who have not seen it would understand it.

Jones stood for some minutes fixed in one posture, and directing his

eyes towards the south; upon which the old gentleman asked, What he

was looking at with so much attention? “Alas! sir,” answered he with a

sigh, “I was endeavouring to trace out my own journey hither. Good

heavens! what a distance is Gloucester from us! What a vast track of

land must be between me and my own home!”--“Ay, ay, young gentleman,”

cries the other, “and by your sighing, from what you love better than

your own home, or I am mistaken. I perceive now the object of your

contemplation is not within your sight, and yet I fancy you have a

pleasure in looking that way.” Jones answered with a smile, “I find,

old friend, you have not yet forgot the sensations of your youth. I

own my thoughts were employed as you have guessed.”

They now walked to that part of the hill which looks to the

north-west, and which hangs over a vast and extensive wood. Here they

were no sooner arrived than they heard at a distance the most violent

screams of a woman, proceeding from the wood below them. Jones

listened a moment, and then, without saying a word to his companion

(for indeed the occasion seemed sufficiently pressing), ran, or rather

slid, down the hill, and, without the least apprehension or concern

for his own safety, made directly to the thicket, whence the sound had

issued.

He had not entered far into the wood before he beheld a most shocking

sight indeed, a woman stript half naked, under the hands of a ruffian,

who had put his garter round her neck, and was endeavouring to draw

her up to a tree. Jones asked no questions at this interval, but fell

instantly upon the villain, and made such good use of his trusty oaken

stick that he laid him sprawling on the ground before he could defend

himself, indeed almost before he knew he was attacked; nor did he

cease the prosecution of his blows till the woman herself begged him

to forbear, saying, she believed he had sufficiently done his

business.

The poor wretch then fell upon her knees to Jones, and gave him a

thousand thanks for her deliverance. He presently lifted her up, and

told her he was highly pleased with the extraordinary accident which

had sent him thither for her relief, where it was so improbable she

should find any; adding, that Heaven seemed to have designed him as

the happy instrument of her protection. “Nay,” answered she, “I could

almost conceive you to be some good angel; and, to say the truth, you

look more like an angel than a man in my eye.” Indeed he was a

charming figure; and if a very fine person, and a most comely set of

features, adorned with youth, health, strength, freshness, spirit, and

good-nature, can make a man resemble an angel, he certainly had that

resemblance.

The redeemed captive had not altogether so much of the human-angelic

species: she seemed to be at least of the middle age, nor had her face

much appearance of beauty; but her cloaths being torn from all the

upper part of her body, her breasts, which were well formed and

extremely white, attracted the eyes of her deliverer, and for a few

moments they stood silent, and gazing at each other; till the ruffian

on the ground beginning to move, Jones took the garter which had been

intended for another purpose, and bound both his hands behind him. And

now, on contemplating his face, he discovered, greatly to his

surprize, and perhaps not a little to his satisfaction, this very

person to be no other than ensign Northerton. Nor had the ensign

forgotten his former antagonist, whom he knew the moment he came to

himself. His surprize was equal to that of Jones; but I conceive his

pleasure was rather less on this occasion.

Jones helped Northerton upon his legs, and then looking him stedfastly

in the face, “I fancy, sir,” said he, “you did not expect to meet me

any more in this world, and I confess I had as little expectation to

find you here. However, fortune, I see, hath brought us once more

together, and hath given me satisfaction for the injury I have

received, even without my own knowledge.”

“It is very much like a man of honour, indeed,” answered Northerton,

“to take satisfaction by knocking a man down behind his back. Neither

am I capable of giving you satisfaction here, as I have no sword; but

if you dare behave like a gentleman, let us go where I can furnish

myself with one, and I will do by you as a man of honour ought.”

“Doth it become such a villain as you are,” cries Jones, “to

contaminate the name of honour by assuming it? But I shall waste no

time in discourse with you. Justice requires satisfaction of you now,

and shall have it.” Then turning to the woman, he asked her, if she

was near her home; or if not, whether she was acquainted with any

house in the neighbourhood, where she might procure herself some

decent cloaths, in order to proceed to a justice of the peace.

She answered she was an entire stranger in that part of the world.

Jones then recollecting himself, said, he had a friend near who would

direct them; indeed, he wondered at his not following; but, in fact,

the good Man of the Hill, when our heroe departed, sat himself down on

the brow, where, though he had a gun in his hand, he with great

patience and unconcern had attended the issue.

Jones then stepping without the wood, perceived the old man sitting as

we have just described him; he presently exerted his utmost agility,

and with surprizing expedition ascended the hill.

The old man advised him to carry the woman to Upton, which, he said,

was the nearest town, and there he would be sure of furnishing her

with all manner of conveniencies. Jones having received his direction

to the place, took his leave of the Man of the Hill, and, desiring him

to direct Partridge the same way, returned hastily to the wood.

Our heroe, at his departure to make this enquiry of his friend, had

considered, that as the ruffian's hands were tied behind him, he was

incapable of executing any wicked purposes on the poor woman. Besides,

he knew he should not be beyond the reach of her voice, and could

return soon enough to prevent any mischief. He had moreover declared

to the villain, that if he attempted the least insult, he would be

himself immediately the executioner of vengeance on him. But Jones

unluckily forgot, that though the hands of Northerton were tied, his

legs were at liberty; nor did he lay the least injunction on the

prisoner that he should not make what use of these he pleased.

Northerton therefore having given no parole of that kind, thought he

might without any breach of honour depart; not being obliged, as he

imagined, by any rules, to wait for a formal discharge. He therefore

took up his legs, which were at liberty, and walked off through the

wood, which favoured his retreat; nor did the woman, whose eyes were

perhaps rather turned toward her deliverer, once think of his escape,

or give herself any concern or trouble to prevent it.

Jones therefore, at his return, found the woman alone. He would have

spent some time in searching for Northerton, but she would not permit

him; earnestly entreating that he would accompany her to the town

whither they had been directed. “As to the fellow's escape,” said she,

“it gives me no uneasiness; for philosophy and Christianity both

preach up forgiveness of injuries. But for you, sir, I am concerned at

the trouble I give you; nay, indeed, my nakedness may well make me

ashamed to look you in the face; and if it was not for the sake of

your protection, I should wish to go alone.”

Jones offered her his coat; but, I know not for what reason, she

absolutely refused the most earnest solicitations to accept it. He

then begged her to forget both the causes of her confusion. “With

regard to the former,” says he, “I have done no more than my duty in

protecting you; and as for the latter, I will entirely remove it, by

walking before you all the way; for I would not have my eyes offend

you, and I could not answer for my power of resisting the attractive

charms of so much beauty.”

Thus our heroe and the redeemed lady walked in the same manner as

Orpheus and Eurydice marched heretofore; but though I cannot believe

that Jones was designedly tempted by his fair one to look behind him,

yet as she frequently wanted his assistance to help her over stiles,

and had besides many trips and other accidents, he was often obliged

to turn about. However, he had better fortune than what attended poor

Orpheus, for he brought his companion, or rather follower, safe into

the famous town of Upton.