Jones, it would certainly be his turn next; and earnestly entreated him, to return back, and find ' out the old woman, and pacify her. We shall very 'soon,' added he, reach the inn; for though we 'have seemed to go forward, I am very certain we are in the identical place in which we were an 'hour ago; and I dare swear, if it was day-light, we might now see the inn we set out from.'

Instead of returning any answer to this sage advice, Jones was entirely attentive to what had happened to the boy, who received no other hurt than what had before befallen Partridge, and which his clothes very easily bore, as they had been for many years inured to the like. He soon regained his sidesaddle, and by the hearty curses and blows which he bestowed on his horse, quickly satisfied Mr. Jones that no harm was done.

CHAP. XII.

Relates that Mr. Jones continued his Journey, contrary to the Advice of Partridge, with what happened on that Occasion.

THEY now discovered a light at some distance, to the great pleasure of Jones, and to the no small terror of Partridge, who firmly believed himself to be bewitched, and that this light was a Jack with a Lantern, or somewhat more mischievous.

But how were these fears increased, when, as they approached nearer to this light (or lights as they now appeared), they heard a confused sound of human voices; of singing, laughing, and hallooing, together with a strange noise that seemed to proceed from some instruments; but could hardly be allowed the name of music! indeed, to favour a little the opinion of Partridge, it might very well be called music bewitched.

It is impossible to conceive a much greater degree

of horror than what now seized on Partridge; the contagion of which had reached the post-boy, who had been very attentive to many things that the other had uttered. He now therefore joined in petitioning Jones to return; saying, he firmly believed what Partridge had just before said, that though the horses seemed to go on, they had not moved a step forwards during at least the last half hour.

Jones could not help smiling in the midst of his vexation, at the fears of these poor fellows. Either 'we advance,' says he, towards the lights, or the lights have advanced towards us; for we are now at a very little distance from them; but how can ' either of you be afraid of a set of people who appear only to be merry-making?'

Merry-making, Sir;' cries Partridge; who 'could be merry-making at this time of night, and in such a place, and such weather? They 'can be nothing but ghosts or witches, or some ' evil spirits or other, that's certain.'

'Let them be what they will,' cries Jones, I am resolved to go up to them, and inquire the way to Coventry. All witches, Partridge, are 'not such ill-natured hags as that we had the misfortune to meet with last.'

'O Lord, Sir,' cries Partridge, 'there is no know'ing what humour they will be in; to be sure it is always best to be civil to them; but what if we 'should meet with something worse than witches, 'with evil spirits themselves?Pray, Sir, be ad'vised; pray, Sir, do. If you had read so many 'terrible accounts as I have of these matters, you 'would not be so fool-hardy. The Lord knows 'whither we have got already, or whither we are going; for sure such darkness was never seen upon earth, and I question whether it can be 'darker in the other world.'

Jones put forwards as fast as he could, notwithstanding all these hints and cautions, and poor Par

tridge was obliged to follow: for though he hardly dared to advance, he dared still less to stay behind by himself.

At length they arrived at the place whence the lights and different noises had issued. This Jones perceived to be no other than a barn, where a great number of men and women were assembled, and diverting themselves with much apparent jollity.

Jones no sooner appeared before the great doors of the barn, which were open, than a masculine and very rough voice from within demanded, who was there? To which Jones gently answered, a friend; and immediately asked the road to Coventry.

'If you are a friend,' cries another of the men in the barn, you had better alight till the storm is over:' (for indeed it was now more violent than ever): you are very welcome to put up your 'horse; for there is sufficient room for him at one ' end of the barn.'

'You are very obliging,' returned Jones; and 'I will accept your offer for a few minutes, whilst the rain continues; and here are two more who 'will be glad of the same favour.' This was accorded with more good-will than it was accepted: for Partridge would rather have submitted to the utmost inclemency of the weather, than have trusted to the clemency of those whom he took for hobgoblins; and the poor post-boy was now infected with the same apprehensions; but they were both obliged to follow the example of Jones; the one because he durst not leave his horse, and the other because he feared nothing so much as being left by himself.

Had this history been writ in the days of superstition, I should have had too much compassion for the reader to have left him so long in suspense, whether Beelzebub or Satan was about actually to appear in person, with all his hellish retinue; but as these doctrines are at present very unfortunate, and have but few, if any believers, I have not been

much aware of conveying any such terrors. To say truth, the whole furniture of the infernal regions hath long been appropriated by the managers of playhouses, who seem lately to have lain them by as rubbish, capable only of affecting the upper gallery; a place in which few of our readers ever sit.

However, though we do not suspect raising any great terror on this occasion, we have reason to fear some other apprehensions may here arise in our reader, into which we would not willingly betray him; I mean, that we are going to take a voyage into fairy land, and to introduce a set of beings into our history, which scarce any one was ever childish enough to believe, though many have been foolish enough to spend their time in writing and reading their adventures.

To prevent therefore any such suspicions, so prejudicial to the credit of an historian, who professes to draw his materials from nature only, we shall now proceed to acquaint the reader who these people were, whose sudden appearance had struck such terrors into Partridge, had more than half frightened the post-boy, and had a little surprised even Mr. Jones himself.

The people then assembled in this barn were no other than a company of Egyptians, or, as they are vulgarly called, Gypsies, and they were now celebrating the wedding of one of their society.

It is impossible to conceive a happier set of people than appeared here to be met together. The utmost mirth indeed shewed itself in every countenance; nor was their ball totally void of all order and decorum. Perhaps it had more than a country assembly is sometimes conducted with: for these people are subject to a formal government and laws of their own, and all pay obedience to one great magistrate, whom they call their king.

Greater plenty likewise was no where to be seen, than what flourished in this barn. Here was indeed no nicety nor elegance, nor did the keen ap

petite of the guests require any. Here was good store of bacon, fowls, and mutton, to which every one present provided better sauce himself, than the best and dearest French cook can prepare.

Eneas is not described under more consternation in the temple of Juno,

Dum stupet obtutuque hæret defixus in uno,

than was our hero at what he saw in this barn. While he was looking every where round him with astonishment, a venerable person approached him with many friendly salutations, rather of too hearty a kind to be called courtly. This was no other than the king of the Gypsies himself. He was very little distinguished in dress from his subjects, nor had he any regalia of majesty to support his dignity; and yet there seemed (as Mr. Jones said) to be somewhat in his air which denoted authority, and inspired the beholders with an idea of awe and respect; though all this was perhaps imaginary in Jones; and the truth may be, that such ideas are incident to power, and almost inseparable from it.

There was somewhat in the open countenance and courteous behaviour of Jones, which, being accompanied with much comeliness of person, greatly recommended him at first sight to every beholder. These were perhaps a little heightened in the present instance, by that profound respect which he paid to the king of the Gypsies, the moment he was acquainted with his dignity, and which was the sweeter to his Gypseian majesty, as he was not used to receive such homage from any but his own subjects.

The king ordered a table to be spread with the choicest of their provisions for his accommodation; and having placed himself at his right hand, his majesty began to discourse with our hero in the following manner:

'Me doubt not, Sir, but you have often seen some of my people, who are what you call de parties detache: for dey go about every where; but