# The History of the Adventures of Joseph Andrews and his Friend, Mr. Abraham Abrams/Book II, Chapter II

CHAPTER II.
_A surprizing instance of Mr Adams's short memory, with the unfortunate
consequences which it brought on Joseph._
Mr Adams and Joseph were now ready to depart different ways, when an
accident determined the former to return with his friend, which
Tow-wouse, Barnabas, and the bookseller had not been able to do. This
accident was, that those sermons, which the parson was travelling to
London to publish, were, O my good reader! left behind; what he had
mistaken for them in the saddlebags being no other than three shirts, a
pair of shoes, and some other necessaries, which Mrs Adams, who thought
her husband would want shirts more than sermons on his journey, had
carefully provided him.
This discovery was now luckily owing to the presence of Joseph at the
opening the saddlebags; who, having heard his friend say he carried with
him nine volumes of sermons, and not being of that sect of philosophers
who can reduce all the matter of the world into a nutshell, seeing there
was no room for them in the bags, where the parson had said they were
deposited, had the curiosity to cry out, "Bless me, sir, where are your
sermons?" The parson answered, "There, there, child; there they are,
under my shirts." Now it happened that he had taken forth his last
shirt, and the vehicle remained visibly empty. "Sure, sir," says
Joseph, "there is nothing in the bags." Upon which Adams, starting, and
testifying some surprize, cried, "Hey! fie, fie upon it! they are not
here sure enough. Ay, they are certainly left behind."
Joseph was greatly concerned at the uneasiness which he apprehended his
friend must feel from this disappointment; he begged him to pursue his
journey, and promised he would himself return with the books to him with
the utmost expedition. "No, thank you, child," answered Adams; "it shall
not be so. What would it avail me, to tarry in the great city, unless I
had my discourses with me, which are _ut ita dicam_, the sole cause, the
_aitia monotate_ of my peregrination? No, child, as this accident hath
happened, I am resolved to return back to my cure, together with you;
which indeed my inclination sufficiently leads me to. This
disappointment may perhaps be intended for my good." He concluded with a
verse out of Theocritus, which signifies no more than that sometimes it
rains, and sometimes the sun shines.
Joseph bowed with obedience and thankfulness for the inclination which
the parson expressed of returning with him; and now the bill was called
for, which, on examination, amounted within a shilling to the sum Mr
Adams had in his pocket. Perhaps the reader may wonder how he was able
to produce a sufficient sum for so many days: that he may not be
surprized, therefore, it cannot be unnecessary to acquaint him that he
had borrowed a guinea of a servant belonging to the coach and six, who
had been formerly one of his parishioners, and whose master, the owner
of the coach, then lived within three miles of him; for so good was the
credit of Mr Adams, that even Mr Peter, the Lady Booby's steward, would
have lent him a guinea with very little security.
[Illustration]
Mr Adams discharged the bill, and they were both setting out, having
agreed to ride and tie; a method of travelling much used by persons who
have but one horse between them, and is thus performed. The two
travellers set out together, one on horseback, the other on foot: now,
as it generally happens that he on horseback outgoes him on foot, the
custom is, that, when he arrives at the distance agreed on, he is to
dismount, tie the horse to some gate, tree, post, or other thing, and
then proceed on foot; when the other comes up to the horse he unties
him, mounts, and gallops on, till, having passed by his
fellow-traveller, he likewise arrives at the place of tying. And this is
that method of travelling so much in use among our prudent ancestors,
who knew that horses had mouths as well as legs, and that they could not
use the latter without being at the expense of suffering the beasts
themselves to use the former. This was the method in use in those days
when, instead of a coach and six, a member of parliament's lady used to
mount a pillion behind her husband; and a grave serjeant at law
condescended to amble to Westminster on an easy pad, with his clerk
kicking his heels behind him.
Adams was now gone some minutes, having insisted on Joseph's beginning
the journey on horseback, and Joseph had his foot in the stirrup, when
the hostler presented him a bill for the horse's board during his
residence at the inn. Joseph said Mr Adams had paid all; but this
matter, being referred to Mr Tow-wouse, was by him decided in favour of
the hostler, and indeed with truth and justice; for this was a fresh
instance of that shortness of memory which did not arise from want of
parts, but that continual hurry in which parson Adams was
always involved.
Joseph was now reduced to a dilemma which extremely puzzled him. The sum
due for horse-meat was twelve shillings (for Adams, who had borrowed the
beast of his clerk, had ordered him to be fed as well as they could
feed him), and the cash in his pocket amounted to sixpence (for Adams
had divided the last shilling with him). Now, though there have been
some ingenious persons who have contrived to pay twelve shillings with
sixpence, Joseph was not one of them. He had never contracted a debt in
his life, and was consequently the less ready at an expedient to
extricate himself. Tow-wouse was willing to give him credit till next
time, to which Mrs Tow-wouse would probably have consented (for such was
Joseph's beauty, that it had made some impression even on that piece of
flint which that good woman wore in her bosom by way of heart). Joseph
would have found, therefore, very likely the passage free, had he not,
when he honestly discovered the nakedness of his pockets, pulled out
that little piece of gold which we have mentioned before. This caused
Mrs Tow-wouse's eyes to water; she told Joseph she did not conceive a
man could want money whilst he had gold in his pocket. Joseph answered
he had such a value for that little piece of gold, that he would not
part with it for a hundred times the riches which the greatest esquire
in the county was worth. "A pretty way, indeed," said Mrs Tow-wouse, "to
run in debt, and then refuse to part with your money, because you have a
value for it! I never knew any piece of gold of more value than as many
shillings as it would change for."--"Not to preserve my life from
starving, nor to redeem it from a robber, would I part with this dear
piece!" answered Joseph. "What," says Mrs Tow-wouse, "I suppose it was
given you by some vile trollop, some miss or other; if it had been the
present of a virtuous woman, you would not have had such a value for it.
My husband is a fool if he parts with the horse without being paid for
him."--"No, no, I can't part with the horse, indeed, till I have the
money," cried Tow-wouse. A resolution highly commended by a lawyer then
in the yard, who declared Mr Tow-wouse might justify the detainer.
As we cannot therefore at present get Mr Joseph out of the inn, we shall
leave him in it, and carry our reader on after parson Adams, who, his
mind being perfectly at ease, fell into a contemplation on a passage in
Aeschylus, which entertained him for three miles together, without
suffering him once to reflect on his fellow-traveller.
At length, having spun out his thread, and being now at the summit of a
hill, he cast his eyes backwards, and wondered that he could not see any
sign of Joseph. As he left him ready to mount the horse, he could not
apprehend any mischief had happened, neither could he suspect that he
missed his way, it being so broad and plain; the only reason which
presented itself to him was, that he had met with an acquaintance who
had prevailed with him to delay some time in discourse.
He therefore resolved to proceed slowly forwards, not doubting but that
he should be shortly overtaken; and soon came to a large water, which,
filling the whole road, he saw no method of passing unless by wading
through, which he accordingly did up to his middle; but was no sooner
got to the other side than he perceived, if he had looked over the
hedge, he would have found a footpath capable of conducting him without
wetting his shoes.
His surprize at Joseph's not coming up grew now very troublesome: he
began to fear he knew not what; and as he determined to move no farther,
and, if he did not shortly overtake him, to return back, he wished to
find a house of public entertainment where he might dry his clothes and
refresh himself with a pint; but, seeing no such (for no other reason
than because he did not cast his eyes a hundred yards forwards), he sat
himself down on a stile, and pulled out his Aeschylus.
A fellow passing presently by, Adams asked him if he could direct him
to an alehouse. The fellow, who had just left it, and perceived the
house and sign to be within sight, thinking he had jeered him, and being
of a morose temper, bade him follow his nose and be d---n'd. Adams told
him he was a saucy jackanapes; upon which the fellow turned about
angrily; but, perceiving Adams clench his fist, he thought proper to go
on without taking any farther notice.
A horseman, following immediately after, and being asked the same
question, answered, "Friend, there is one within a stone's throw; I
believe you may see it before you." Adams, lifting up his eyes, cried,
"I protest, and so there is;" and, thanking his informer, proceeded
directly to it.