Harrison and Amelia herself, the virtuous man and woman are drawn so clearly that they inevitably win the reader’s sympathy.  “Amelia” does not equal the genius of “Tom Jones,” but it is remarkable for being so largely devoted to the adventures of a married couple, instead of ending at marriage.  Fielding died on October 8, 1754.

I.—­The Inside of a Prison

On the first of April, in the year—­, the watchmen of a certain parish in Westminster brought several persons, whom they had apprehended the preceding night, before Jonathan Thrasher, Esq., one of the justices of the peace for that city.

Among the prisoners a young fellow, whose name was Booth, was charged with beating the watchman in the execution of his office, and breaking his lantern.  The justice perceiving the criminal to be but shabbily dressed, was going to commit him without asking any further questions, but at the earnest request of the accused the worthy magistrate submitted to hear his defence.

The young man then alleged that as he was walking home to his lodgings he saw two men in the street cruelly beating a third, upon which he had stopped and endeavoured to assist the person who was so unequally attacked; that the watch came up during the affray, and took them all four into custody; that they were immediately carried to the round-house, where the two original assailants found means to make up the matter, and were discharged by the constable, a favour which he himself, having no money in his pocket, was unable to obtain.  He utterly denied having assaulted any of the watchmen, and solemnly declared that he was offered his liberty at the price of half a crown.

Though the bare word of an offender can never be taken against the oath of his accuser, yet the magistrate might have employed some labour in cross-examining the watchman, or at least have given the defendant time to send for the other persons who were present at the affray; neither of which he did.

Booth and the poor man in whose defence he had been engaged were both dispatched to prison under a guard of watchmen.

Mr. Booth was no sooner arrived in the prison than a number of persons gathered around him, all demanding garnish.  The master or keeper of the prison then acquainted him that it was the custom of the place for every prisoner, upon his first arrival there, to give something to the former prisoners to make them drink.  This was what they called garnish.  Mr. Booth answered that he would readily comply with this laudable custom, were it in his power; but that in reality he had not a shilling in his pocket, and, what was worse, he had not a shilling in the world.  Upon which the keeper departed, and left poor Booth to the mercy of his companions, who, without loss of time, stripped him of his coat and hid it.

Mr. Booth was too weak to resist and too wise to complain of his usage.  He summoned his philosophy to his assistance, and resolved to make himself as easy as possible under his present circumstances.