“What, I suppose you have read Galen and Hippocrates!”—“No, sir,” said the gentleman. “How! you understand surgery,” answers the doctor, “and not read Galen and Hippocrates?”—“Sir,” cries the other, “I believe there are many surgeons who have never read these authors.”—“I believe so too,” says the doctor, “more shame for them; but, thanks to my education, I have them by heart, and very seldom go without them both in my pocket.”—“They are pretty large books,” said the gentleman. “Aye,” said the doctor, “I believe I know how large they are better than you.” (At which he fell a winking, and the whole company burst into a laugh.)

The doctor pursuing his triumph, asked the gentleman, if he did not understand physic as well as surgery. “Rather better,” answered the gentleman. “Aye, like enough,” cries the doctor with a wink. “Why, I know a little of physic too.”—“I wish I knew half so much,” said Tow-wouse, “I’d never wear an apron again.”—“Why, I believe, landlord,” cries the doctor, “there are few men, though I say it, within twelve miles of the place, that handle a fever better.—Veniente accurrite morbo: that is my method. I suppose, brother, you understand Latin?”—“A little,” says the gentleman. “Ay, and Greek now, I’ll warrant you: Ton dapomibominos poluflosboio thalasses. But I have almost forgot these things: I could have repeated Homer by heart once.”——“I fags! the gentleman has caught a traitor,” says Mrs Tow-wouse; at which they all fell a laughing.

The gentleman, who had not the least affection for joking, very contentedly suffered the doctor to enjoy his victory, which he did with no small satisfaction; and, having sufficiently sounded his depth, told him, he was thoroughly convinced of his great learning and abilities; and that he would be obliged to him if he would let him know his opinion of his patient’s case above-stairs. “Sir,” says the doctor, “his case is that of a dead man. The contusion on his head has perforated the internal membrane of the occiput, and divellicated that radical small minute invisible nerve which coheres to the pericranium; and this was attended with a fever at first symptomatic, then pneumatic; and he is at length grown deliruus, or delirious, as the vulgar express it.”

He was proceeding in this learned manner, when a mighty noise interrupted him. Some young fellows in the neighbourhood had taken one of the thieves, and were bringing him into the inn. Betty ran up-stairs with this news to Joseph, who begged they might search for a little piece of broken gold, which had a ribbon tied to it, and which he could swear to amongst all the hoards of the richest men in the universe.

Notwithstanding the fellow’s persisting in his innocence, the mob were very busy in searching him, and presently, among other things, pulled out the piece of gold just mentioned; which Betty no sooner saw than she laid violent hands on it, and conveyed it up to Joseph, who received it with raptures of joy, and, hugging it in his bosom, declared he could now die contented.

Within a few minutes afterwards came in some other fellows, with a bundle which they had found in a ditch, and which was indeed the clothes which had been stripped off from Joseph, and the other things they had taken from him.

The gentleman no sooner saw the coat than he declared he knew the livery; and, if it had been taken from the poor creature above-stairs, desired he might see him; for that he was very well acquainted with the family to whom that livery belonged.

He was accordingly conducted up by Betty; but what, reader, was the surprise on both sides, when he saw Joseph was the person in bed, and when Joseph discovered the face of his good friend Mr Abraham Adams!

It would be impertinent to insert a discourse which chiefly turned on the relation of matters already well known to the reader; for, as soon as the curate had satisfied Joseph concerning the perfect health of his Fanny, he was on his side very inquisitive into all the particulars which had produced this unfortunate accident.

To return therefore to the kitchen, where a great variety of company were now assembled from all the rooms of the house, as well as the neighbourhood: so much delight do men take in contemplating the countenance of a thief.

Mr Tow-wouse began to rub his hands with pleasure at seeing so large an assembly; who would, he hoped, shortly adjourn into several apartments, in order to discourse over the robbery, and drink a health to all honest men. But Mrs Tow-wouse, whose misfortune it was commonly to see things a little perversely, began to rail at those who brought the fellow into her house; telling her husband, they were very likely to thrive who kept a house of entertainment for beggars and thieves.

The mob had now finished their search, and could find nothing about the captive likely to prove any evidence; for as to the clothes, though the mob were very well satisfied with that proof, yet, as the surgeon observed, they could not convict him, because they were not found in his custody; to which Barnabas agreed, and added that these were bona waviata, and belonged to the lord of the manor.

“How,” says the surgeon, “do you say these goods belong to the lord of the manor?”—“I do,” cried Barnabas. “Then I deny it,” says the surgeon: “what can the lord of the manor have to do in the case? Will any one attempt to persuade me that what a man finds is not his own?”—“I have heard,” says an old fellow in the corner, “justice Wise-one say, that, if every man had his right, whatever is found belongs to the king of London.”—“That may be true,” says Barnabas, “in some sense; for the law makes a difference between things stolen and things found; for a thing may be stolen that never is found, and a thing may be found that never was stolen. Now, goods that are both stolen and found are waviata; and they belong to the lord of the manor.”—“So the lord of the manor is the receiver of stolen goods,” says the doctor; at which there was an universal laugh, being first begun by himself.

While the prisoner, by persisting in his innocence, had almost (as there was no evidence against him) brought over Barnabas, the surgeon, Tow-wouse, and several others to his side, Betty informed them that they had overlooked a little piece of gold, which she had carried up to the man in bed, and which he offered to swear to amongst a million, aye, amongst ten thousand. This immediately turned the scale against the prisoner, and every one now concluded him guilty. It was resolved, therefore, to keep him secured that night, and early in the morning to carry him before a justice.

CHAPTER XV.

SHOWING HOW MRS TOW-WOUSE WAS A LITTLE MOLLIFIED; AND HOW OFFICIOUS MR BARNABAS AND THE SURGEON WERE TO PROSECUTE THE THIEF: WITH A DISSERTATION ACCOUNTING FOR THEIR ZEAL, AND THAT OF MANY OTHER PERSONS NOT MENTIONED IN THIS HISTORY.

BETTY TOLD HER mistress she believed the man in bed was a greater man than they took him for; for, besides the extreme whiteness of his skin, and the softness of his hands, she observed a very great familiarity between the gentleman and him; and added, she was certain they were intimate acquaintance, if not relations.

This somewhat abated the severity of Mrs Tow-wouse’s countenance. She said, God forbid she should not discharge the duty of a Christian, since the poor gentleman was brought to her house. She had a natural antipathy to vagabonds; but could pity the misfortunes of a Christian as soon as another. Tow-wouse said, “If the traveller be a gentleman, though he hath no money about him now, we shall most likely be paid hereafter; so you may begin to score whenever you will.” Mrs Tow-wouse answered, “Hold your simple tongue, and don’t instruct me in my business. I am sure I am sorry for the gentleman’s misfortune with all my heart; and I hope the villain who hath used him so barbarously will be hanged. Betty, go see what he wants. God forbid he should want any thing in my house.”

Barnabas and the surgeon went up to Joseph to satisfy themselves concerning the piece of gold; Joseph was with difficulty prevailed upon to show it them, but would by no entreaties be brought to deliver it out of his own possession. He however attested this to be the same which had been taken from him, and Betty was ready to swear to the finding it on the thief.

The only difficulty that remained was, how to produce this gold before the justice; for as to carrying Joseph himself, it seemed impossible; nor was there any great likelihood of obtaining it from him, for he had fastened it with a ribband to his arm, and solemnly vowed that nothing but irresistible force should ever separate them; in which resolution, Mr Adams, clenching a fist rather less than the knuckle of an ox, declared he would support him.

A dispute arose on this occasion concerning evidence not very necessary to be related here; after which the surgeon dressed Mr Joseph’s head, still persisting in the imminent danger in which his patient lay, but concluding, with a very important look, that he began to have some hopes; that he should send him a sanative soporiferous draught, and would see him in the morning. After which Barnabas and he departed, and left Mr Joseph and Mr Adams together.

Adams informed Joseph of the occasion of this journey which he was making to London, namely, to publish three volumes of sermons; being encouraged, as he said, by an advertisement lately set forth by a society of booksellers, who proposed to purchase any copies offered to them, at a price to be settled by two persons; but though he imagined he should get a considerable sum of money on this occasion, which his family were in urgent need of, he protested he would not leave Joseph in his present condition: finally, he told him, he had nine shillings and three pence halfpenny in his pocket, which he was welcome to use as he pleased.

This goodness of parson Adams brought tears into Joseph’s eyes; he declared, he had now a second reason to desire life, that he might show his gratitude to such a friend. Adams bade him be cheerful; for that he plainly saw the surgeon, besides his ignorance, desired to make a merit of curing him, though the wounds in his head, he perceived, were by no means dangerous; that he was convinced he had no fever, and doubted not but he would be able to travel in a day or two.

These words infused a spirit into Joseph; he said, he found himself very sore from the bruises, but had no reason to think any of his bones injured, or that he had received any harm in his inside, unless that he felt something very odd in his stomach; but he knew not whether that might not arise from not having eaten one morsel for above twenty-four hours. Being then asked if he had any inclination to eat, he answered in the affirmative. Then parson Adams desired him to name what he had the greatest fancy for; whether a poached egg, or chicken-broth. He answered, he could eat both very well; but that he seemed to have the greatest appetite for a piece of boiled beef and cabbage.

Adams was pleased with so perfect a confirmation that he had not the least fever, but advised him to a lighter diet for that evening. He accordingly ate either a rabbit or a fowl, I never could with any tolerable certainty discover which; after this he was, by Mrs Tow-wouse’s order, conveyed into a better bed and equipped with one of her husband’s shirts.

In the morning early, Barnabas and the surgeon came to the inn, in order to see the thief conveyed before the justice.