Then it turned out that Joseph had a strawberry mark on his left breast, and this made the peddler, who knew all about Mr. Wilson’s loss, satisfied that Joseph was no other than Mr. Wilson’s son.

So Mr. Wilson had to be sent for, who, on his arrival, no sooner saw the mark than he cried out with tears of joy, “I have discovered my son!”

The banns having been duly called, there was now nothing to prevent the wedding, which, having taken place, Joseph and his wife settled down in Mr. Wilson’s parish, Mr. Booby having given Fanny a fortune of L2,000.  He also presented Mr. Adams with a living of L130 a year.

* * * * *

Tom Jones

“The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling,” described in the dedication as the “labour of some years of my life,” appeared in six volumes, on February 28, 1749, a short time after Fielding’s appointment as justice of peace for Westminster.  Though its broad humour and coarseness of expression are perhaps hard to bear in these times, it is by common consent Fielding’s masterpiece, and by way of being one of the greatest novels in the language.  For experience of life, observation of character, and sheer humanity, it is certainly an outstanding specimen of the English novel and manners.  Like others of his books, “Tom Jones” was written during a period of great mental strain.  Ever haunted by poverty, Fielding acknowledges his debt to his old schoolfellow Lyttelton, to whom he owed his “existence during the composition of the book.”  The story was popular from the first.

I.—­Mr. Allworthy Makes a Discovery

In that part of the country which is commonly called Somersetshire there lately lived a gentleman whose name was Allworthy, and who might well be called the favourite of both nature and fortune.  From the former of these he derived an agreeable person, a sound constitution, a solid understanding, and a benevolent heart; by the latter he was decreed to the inheritance of one of the largest estates in the country.

Mr. Allworthy lived, for the most part, retired in the country, with one sister, for whom he had a very tender affection.  This lady, Miss Bridget Allworthy, now somewhat past the age of thirty, was of that species of women whom you commend rather for good qualities than beauty.

Mr. Allworthy had been absent a full quarter of a year in London on some very particular business, and having returned to his house very late in the evening, retired, much fatigued, to his chamber.  Here, after he had spent some minutes on his knees—­a custom which he never broke through on any account—­he was preparing to step into bed, when, upon opening the clothes, to his great surprise, he beheld an infant wrapped up in some coarse linen, in a sweet and profound sleep, between his sheets.  He stood for some time lost in astonishment at this sight; but soon began to be touched with sentiments of compassion for the little wretch before him.  He then rang his bell, and ordered an elderly woman-servant to rise immediately and come to him.