The comedy of Wilmot successful: The wounded stranger seen at a distance: Oratory abandoned with regret: The dangers that attend being honest: A new invitation from Hector: A journey deferred by an arrest, and another accidental sight of the stranger

It is happy for man that there is scarcely any state of suffering, whether of mind or body, in which pain is unremitting; and wholly unmixed with pleasure. If he be unhappy himself, it will be strange should there be no one more fortunate for whom he has an affection: no friend that is more prosperous, and in whose prosperity he takes delight.

The season of the year had arrived when the comedy of Wilmot had been put into rehearsal, and was to be performed. It was a trying occasion; and those who knew him loved him too well to be absent; though the few intimate friends who had read the piece had no doubt of its success. The partial failure of his tragedy had produced no jealousy of rivalship: though, as its merits had been publicly acknowledged, it had incurred no disgrace. In private life, he was beloved; and, as a public man, his merits had not yet created him enemies. He has since, indeed, in that respect, not been so fortunate. But he has never thought it just to complain: being convinced that mistake, though it should be rectified, should not be resented.

The evening of representation arrived, the house was crowded, the company brilliant, and the plaudits with which the author was honoured established his reputation, and confirmed the judgment of his friends.

During the performance, I sat in the boxes; and, among the spectators in the pit, I discovered a man whose hair was white, whose locks were venerable, and who I was well convinced was the stranger whom I had found wounded at the entrance of Barnes common. I was in a side-box, and he was near the opposite pit door; so that the distance made it rather doubtful: yet the more I looked the more I was convinced it was the same person. The comedy was nearly ended when I first saw him; and I determined, as soon as I had heard the epilogue, to go and satisfy myself how far my persuasion was true.

I went round to the door; but the pit was so crowded that it was with difficulty I could make my way to the seat. When I was there my labour was lost: I could not find him; and, enquiring for him by description of the persons near where he sat, they told me that such a gentleman had been there; but that he complained of the heat, and had left the house immediately after the curtain dropped.

This incident gave me considerable chagrin. However, as his person was very remarkable, and being persuaded he was actually the wounded stranger, I conceived hopes that I should again meet him; in some place where the danger of losing sight of him would not be so great.

There being no expectation of his return, I went in search of my friends: in company with whom, rejoicing in the success of Wilmot and glorying in the acquisition of poetry and the stage, I wholly forgot myself and my own affairs, and spent one more very delightful evening.

These affairs however were not long to be forgotten. The returns of the elections throughout Great Britain had all been made, and the new parliament summoned to assemble. It was with infinite and deep regret that I found myself excluded by my own sense of rectitude. I would willingly have taken my seat, had it been only for one night: for I was eagerly desirous of an opportunity to deliver my thoughts, and urge some of those useful truths which may be uttered with more safety there than in less privileged places.

But I was too well acquainted with the customs and forms of the house to hope that this opportunity could now be found. I had no parliamentary friends; no supporters; and there was not the least probability that a youth so wholly unknown should catch the speaker's eye, whose notice so many were ready to solicit.

These things having been duly weighed, I had already applied for the chiltern hundreds and my seat was declared vacated: to the great joy of Lord Bray; and his now bosom friend, the Earl of Idford. This joy was the greater because it was an event of which they had not the least expectation. The due forms of law had been observed, the seals had been removed from the locks of my late inestimable friend, his cousin the new peer was in possession of the mortgage and the notes for money received, and he had no conception of any motives that could induce me to an act which must leave me entirely at his mercy.

It cannot however be supposed, as I have already said, that I had any intention to retain the estate; which I had received from Mr. Evelyn as a qualification, and a support. It was now the property of Lord Bray; and obligation to him was a thing that would not admit of a question. I did not therefore wait for any notice from his lordship, or his attorney, but desired Mr. Hilary to inform him that I was ready at any time to give up the deeds, and receive back the mortgage.

This would have been a trifle. It was not a sacrifice; but a riddance: by which, could it have ended here, I should have regained something of that elasticity of heart which independence only can feel. Here, however, it could not end. I was obliged to instruct Mr. Hilary to add that I was willing to give my own personal security, by bond or in any manner my creditor should please, for money received and interest due: but to acknowledge that I had no immediate means of payment. In other words, that my person was entirely at the disposal of himself and the law. I might have reminded him that more than half of my debt was incurred by genteel presents to his craving electors; and that he had informed me that it was a necessary expence: but to this I could not condescend.

The little business which, during his life, Mr. Evelyn had in law Mr. Hilary had always transacted. He had a sincere regard for me, and a reverence for the memory of his late kinsman; whose earnest recommendation of me he did not forget. Being well acquainted with the character of Lord Bray, he foresaw and warned me of my danger. While a baronet, to behold himself a peer had been his lordship's darling passion: but that was now gratified; and, as he was proud, he was likewise revengeful. In this case, however, to warn was useless. I had no alternative, except by means that were dishonorable.

Nor was the resentment of Lord Bray single, or so much to be apprehended as that of the Earl, with whom he had entered into strict alliance. My behaviour to Lord Idford had uniformly been what he deemed so very insolent that his antipathy may be said to have taken birth at my first act of disobedience: my refusal to dine at the second table. Since then, as he conceived, it had been progressive in aggravation. My scorn of his selfish politics, my attempt to continue the Letters of Themistocles, and write him who was the supposed author of them into disgrace, the pamphlet of which I was the author, the activity with which I had canvassed in favour of Mowbray, and to sum up all my daring to rival him with the woman on whom he would have conferred his person, his dignity, and his other great qualities, were all of them injuries that rankled at his heart. When these things are remembered, few will feel surprised that the Earl should indulge a passion which is in itself so active: or that he should induce Lord Bray to pursue that kind of conduct to which he was already so much disposed.

The danger however must be faced; and Mr. Hilary wrote, as my attorney, to state the circumstances above recited. A week elapsed before he received an answer: but at the end of that time his lordship's attorney replied, that personal security for so large a sum could not be accepted: my bond would be no better than the notes I had given: and that I was required immediately to pay what was due, to the estate and heirs of the late Mr. Evelyn.

The spirit in which this note was written proved the temper of my creditor; and an incident soon occurred by which his propensity to persecute was called into action. The scrutiny which Hector had demanded was over, and decided against him: but, understanding that there was an absolute breach between me and Lord Bray, Mowbray was convinced that he had accused me falsely. As he was almost certain that he could prove bribery and corruption to have been practised by his opponent, he persisted in determining to bring it before the house of commons. This business kept him still in the country, where he and his partisans were busily collecting information.

He had experienced my utility in the course of the election, he wished to enjoy the same advantage at present, and he and his committee likewise discovered that my evidence was essentially necessary. He therefore wrote me an apology, spoke in the handsomest terms he could recollect of the services I had done him, requested me to come down once more to aid him in his present attempt, and stated the points on which my future testimony would be useful. He further informed me that a gentleman of the law, whom he named, was to set off the morning after I should receive the letter, at ten o'clock, and come post; and that he should be much obliged to me if I would take a seat in the same chaise.

The letter was read in the committee room, as a matter of business; and in this committee room Lord Idford had a secret agent, from whom he gained intelligence of all their proceedings that deserved notice.

Desirous as I was of obliging the brother of Olivia, I made no hesitation to comply. The evening before I was to go down into *****, I went to Mr. Hilary; to acquaint him with the place of my destination, and the manner in which he might direct to me, if any thing new should occur. The agents of Lord Bray, or to speak more truly of the Earl, had been exceedingly industrious; and a writ was already procured. It was intended to take me as I stepped into the chaise, or that evening if possible, and accordingly the door where I lived was watched, and I was seen to come out. My usual pace was brisk, but I happened now to be in haste; and, as they told me themselves, the setters lost sight of me for some time, were afterward cautious of coming up to me in any public street where a rescue was probable, and followed me till I came almost to the door of Mr. Hilary.

Here there was a carriage standing; and, to my great surprise and joy, I saw Mr. Hilary with a light, conducting out the very person whom I had some time before discovered in the pit, and whom I now knew to be the wounded stranger.

I hesitated whether I ought to spring forward, and intrude my enquiries immediately upon him, or make them of Mr. Hilary, with whom it appeared he was acquainted; and, at this instant, the bailiff and his two men came up with me, and told me I was their prisoner.

While I stood astonished at this sudden and at that precise time unexpected event, the carriage with the stranger in it drove away; and Mr. Hilary shut the door without seeing me.

There is a sense of indignity and disgrace in being arrested, at which all those who have not been frequently subjected to it revolt. I was wholly ignorant of the manners of the people who had laid their hands upon me. I had heard of giving bail: but I had likewise heard that it was a thing of danger, to which men were generally averse; and I had a bitter repugnance to ask any thing which I thought it was likely should be refused. Neither had I any probable person to ask: for my little law reading had taught me that the sureties of a debtor must be house-keepers.

Unwilling therefore to trouble Mr. Hilary, and finding myself without resource, I desired the bailiff to take me wherever he pleased, or wherever the law directed. 'I suppose, Sir, you do not mean we should take you to jail?' said the bailiff.

Ignorant as I was and surprised at the question, I asked where else they meant to take me? He replied 'To my house, Sir: or to any other lock up house that you choose.'

'A lock up house, Sir!' said I. 'Pray what is that?'

The bailiff knew not how to give a direct answer; but replied 'There is some lock up houses at which a gentleman may be treated like a gentleman: though I cannot say but there is others that is shabby enough. I see very well, Sir, you are a young gentleman, and do not know the trim of such things: so, if you please to go to my house, you will find very civil usage. I can tell by your cut, Sir, that you are no scrub; so my wife will take care to furnish you with every thing that is genteel and polite.'

The man smelled excessively of brandy and tobacco; which, corresponding with his gait, looks, and language, seemed an introduction to the purgatory to which I was doomed. I thought proper however to accept his offer, and go to the house where I was to be treated with so much politeness and gentility.