Didactic fiction; Domestic fiction; England -- Fiction; Married women -- Fiction
Booth and his friends arrived from the bailiff’s, at the serjeant’s
lodgings, where Booth immediately ran up-stairs to his Amelia; between
whom I shall not attempt to describe the meeting. Nothing certainly was
ever more tender or more joyful. This, however, I will observe, that a
very few of these exquisite moments, of which the best minds only are
capable, do in reality over-balance the longest enjoyments which can
ever fall to the lot of the worst.
Whilst Booth and his wife were feasting their souls with the most
delicious mutual endearments, the doctor was fallen to play with the two
little children below-stairs. While he was thus engaged the little boy
did somewhat amiss; upon which the doctor said, “If you do so any more I
will take your papa away from you again.”--“Again! sir,” said the child;
“why, was it you then that took away my papa before?” “Suppose it was,”
said the doctor; “would not you forgive me?” “Yes,” cries the child,
“I would forgive you; because a Christian must forgive everybody; but I
should hate you as long as I live.”
The doctor was so pleased with the boy’s answer, that he caught him in
his arms and kissed him; at which time Booth and his wife returned. The
doctor asked which of them was their son’s instructor in his religion;
Booth answered that he must confess Amelia had all the merit of that
kind. “I should have rather thought he had learnt of his father,” cries
the doctor; “for he seems a good soldier-like Christian, and professes
to hate his enemies with a very good grace.”
“How, Billy!” cries Amelia. “I am sure I did not teach you so.”
“I did not say I would hate my enemies, madam,” cries the boy; “I only
said I would hate papa’s enemies. Sure, mamma, there is no harm in that;
nay, I am sure there is no harm in it, for I have heard you say the same
thing a thousand times.”
The doctor smiled on the child, and, chucking him under the chin, told
him he must hate nobody 5 and now Mrs. Atkinson, who had provided a
dinner for them all, desired them to walk up and partake of it.
And now it was that Booth was first made acquainted with the serjeant’s
marriage, as was Dr Harrison; both of whom greatly felicitated him upon
it.
Mrs. Atkinson, who was, perhaps, a little more confounded than she would
have been had she married a colonel, said, “If I have done wrong, Mrs.
Booth is to answer for it, for she made the match; indeed, Mr. Atkinson,
you are greatly obliged to the character which this lady gives of you.”
“I hope he will deserve it,” said the doctor; “and, if the army hath not
corrupted a good boy, I believe I may answer for him.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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