“One I am ashamed to name,” cries the serjeant; “indeed I had always a very different opinion of him: I could not have believed anything but my own ears and eyes; but Dr Harrison is the man who hath done the deed.” “Dr Harrison!” cries Amelia. “Well, then, there is an end of all goodness in the world. I will never have a good opinion of any human being more.” The serjeant begged that he might not be detained from the captain; and that, if Amelia pleased to go home, he would wait upon her. But she did not chuse to see Mrs. Ellison at this time; and, after a little consideration, she resolved to stay where she was; and Mrs. Atkinson agreed to go and fetch her children to her, it being not many doors distant. The serjeant then departed; Amelia, in her confusion, never having once thought of wishing him joy on his marriage. BOOK VIII. Chapter i. _Being the first chapter of the eighth book._ The history must now look a little backwards to those circumstances which led to the catastrophe mentioned at the end of the last book. When Amelia went out in the morning she left her children to the care of her husband. In this amiable office he had been engaged near an hour, and was at that very time lying along on the floor, and his little things crawling and playing about him, when a most violent knock was heard at the door; and immediately a footman, running upstairs, acquainted him that his lady was taken violently ill, and carried into Mrs. Chenevix’s toy-shop. Booth no sooner heard this account, which was delivered with great appearance of haste and earnestness, than he leapt suddenly from the floor, and, leaving his children, roaring at the news of their mother’s illness, in strict charge with his maid, he ran as fast as his legs could carry him to the place; or towards the place rather: for, before he arrived at the shop, a gentleman stopt him full butt, crying, “Captain, whither so fast?”--Booth answered eagerly, “Whoever you are, friend, don’t ask me any questions now.”--“You must pardon me, captain,” answered the gentleman; “but I have a little business with your honour--In short, captain, I have a small warrant here in my pocket against your honour, at the suit of one Dr Harrison.” “You are a bailiff then?” says Booth. “I am an officer, sir,” answered the other. “Well, sir, it is in vain to contend,” cries Booth; “but let me beg you will permit me only to step to Mrs. Chenevix’s--I will attend you, upon my honour, wherever you please; but my wife lies violently ill there.” “Oh, for that matter,” answered the bailiff, “you may set your heart at ease. Your lady, I hope, is very well; I assure you she is not there. You will excuse me, captain, these are only stratagems of war. _Bolus and virtus, quis in a hostess equirit?_” “Sir, I honour your learning,” cries Booth, “and could almost kiss you for what you tell me. I assure you I would forgive you five hundred arrests for such a piece of news. Well, sir,