Containing several dialogues between Jones and Partridge, concerning
love, cold, hunger, and other matters; with the lucky and narrow
escape of Partridge, as he was on the very brink of making a fatal
discovery to his friend.
The shadows began now to descend larger from the high mountains; the
feathered creation had betaken themselves to their rest. Now the
highest order of mortals were sitting down to their dinners, and the
lowest order to their suppers. In a word, the clock struck five just
as Mr Jones took his leave of Gloucester; an hour at which (as it was
now mid-winter) the dirty fingers of Night would have drawn her sable
curtain over the universe, had not the moon forbid her, who now, with
a face as broad and as red as those of some jolly mortals, who, like
her, turn night into day, began to rise from her bed, where she had
slumbered away the day, in order to sit up all night. Jones had not
travelled far before he paid his compliments to that beautiful planet,
and, turning to his companion, asked him if he had ever beheld so
delicious an evening? Partridge making no ready answer to his
question, he proceeded to comment on the beauty of the moon, and
repeated some passages from Milton, who hath certainly excelled all
other poets in his description of the heavenly luminaries. He then
told Partridge the story from the Spectator, of two lovers who had
agreed to entertain themselves when they were at a great distance from
each other, by repairing, at a certain fixed hour, to look at the
moon; thus pleasing themselves with the thought that they were both
employed in contemplating the same object at the same time. "Those
lovers," added he, "must have had souls truly capable of feeling all
the tenderness of the sublimest of all human passions."--"Very
probably," cries Partridge: "but I envy them more, if they had bodies
incapable of feeling cold; for I am almost frozen to death, and am
very much afraid I shall lose a piece of my nose before we get to
another house of entertainment. Nay, truly, we may well expect some
judgment should happen to us for our folly in running away so by night
from one of the most excellent inns I ever set my foot into. I am sure
I never saw more good things in my life, and the greatest lord in the
land cannot live better in his own house than he may there. And to
forsake such a house, and go a rambling about the country, the Lord
knows whither, per devia rura viarum, I say nothing for my part; but
some people might not have charity enough to conclude we were in our
sober senses."--"Fie upon it, Mr Partridge!" says Jones, "have a
better heart; consider you are going to face an enemy; and are you
afraid of facing a little cold? I wish, indeed, we had a guide to
advise which of these roads we should take."--"May I be so bold," says
Partridge, "to offer my advice? Interdum stultus opportuna
loquitur"--"Why, which of them," cries Jones, "would you
recommend?"--"Truly neither of them," answered Partridge. "The only
road we can be certain of finding, is the road we came. A good hearty
pace will bring us back to Gloucester in an hour; but if we go
forward, the Lord Harry knows when we shall arrive at any place; for I
see at least fifty miles before me, and no house in all the
way."--"You see, indeed, a very fair prospect," says Jones, "which
receives great additional beauty from the extreme lustre of the moon.
However, I will keep the left-hand track, as that seems to lead
directly to those hills, which we were informed lie not far from
Worcester. And here, if you are inclined to quit me, you may, and
return back again; but for my part, I am resolved to go forward."