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THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD
By OLIVER GOLDSMITH I CHOSE my wife for such qualities as would wear well. She could read any English book without much spelling; but for pick-ling, preserving, and cookery, none could excel her. We were ever unstinting of our hospitality, and our gooseberry wine had great reputation, so that our cousins, even to the fortieth remove, remembered their affinity without any help from the heralds' office, and came very frequently to see us. My children were well formed and healthy. Two daughters, who, to conceal nothing, were certainly very handsome: Olivia, of luxuriant beauty, and Sophia, soft, modest, and alluring. My eldest son, George, was bred at Oxford, while Moses, my second boy, received a sort of miscellaneous education at home. But, alas ! by a sudden stroke of ill-luck, my entire fortune was swept away, and out of fourteen thousand pounds I had but four hundred remaining. This caused my neighbor, Mr. Wilmot, to break off the engagement existing between my son George and his daughter Arabella. Mr. Wilmot had one virtue in perfection, which was prudence, too often the only one that is left us at seventy-two. We were now poor, and wisdom bade me conform. to our humble situation. I gave George five pounds and sent him to London to do the best he might for himself and for us. I found a small cure of fif teen pounds a year in a distant neighborhood, and thither we at once repaired. On our journey we fell in with one Mr. Burchell, a pleasing and instructive companion, who told me much of Squire Thorn-hill, our new landlord, who, it seemed, was the pleasure-loving nephew of the great and worthy Sir William Thornhill. Mr. Burchell had the great kindness to rescue my daughter Sophia, who had the mischance to fall into a rapid stream, and who, but for his timely assistance, must have been drowned. On this, my wife immediately built a future romance for the two young people. I could not but smile, to hear her, but I am never dis- pleased with those harmless delusions that tend to make us more happy. Our landlord, Squire Thornhill, became a frequent visitor at our little habitation, lured, perhaps, by my wife's venison pasty-or perhaps by the charms of my pretty daughters. Mr. Burchell, too, came often, so we were not at loss for merry company. My wife, ambitious to hold our heads a little higher in the world, desired that I sell our colt at a neighboring fair, and buy, instead, a horse that would make better appearance at church or upon a visit. She sent Moses, who was a most discreet bargainer, and whom his sisters fitted out bravely for the fair. They trimmed his locks, brushed his buckles, and cocked his hat with pins. He wore a thunder-and-lightning coat and a gosling-green waistcoat; but, alas! at the fair he was imposed upon by a prowling sharper, who, after Moses had well bargained away the colt, managed to get the purchase money from him in return for a gross of green spectacles in shagreen cases ! and so, as usual, unforeseen disaster frustrated our attempts to be fine. My daughters planned a pleasure expedition to town, and this Mr. Burchell so strongly disapproved of that a quarrel ensued between him and my wife, and the gentleman left our house in a fit of anger, nor could Sophia's pleading looks stay him. The town trip being still in prospect, my wife decreed that I go to the fair myself and sell our one remaining horse. But when one would-be purchaser examined the animal and declared him blind of one eye, another observed he had a spavin, a third perceived he had a windgall, a fourth said he had the botts, and so on, I began to have a most hearty contempt for the poor beast myself, for I reflected that the number of witnesses was a strong presumption they were right, and St. Gregory himself is of the same opinion. However, I at last sold my horse, but had the misfortune to receive in payment a forged and worthless draft, the same being, indeed, the wicked work of the very man who had sold Moses the spectacles. Mr. Burchell being absent from our fire-side, only Sophia missed him, for the rest of us were greatly pleased by the visits of our landlord, who now came often. It must be owned that my wife laid a thousand schemes to entrap him as a husband for Olivia, and used every art to magnify the merits of her daughter. The results, however, being small, my wife sought to rouse Mr. Thornhill's jealousy by hinting of Olivia's marriage with Farmer Williams, a most worthy though humble neighbor. This failing to egg on the backward Thornhill, the wedding-day was set for Olivia and Farmer Williams. But four days before the day I learned to my distraction that my Olivia had gone off secretly in a post-chaise with a gentleman who, as I was told by an onlooker, kissed her and said he would die for her. Well did I know the villain who had thus robbed me of my sweet, innocent child; it was none other than the wicked Thornhill. My wife fell to loud berating of him, and Olivia as well, but I declared my house and heart should ever be open to the returning repentant sinner. I set out to find her-but my first efforts persuaded me that it was Mr. Burchell, and not Squire Thornhill, who had seduced my darling. This, though, was not the truth. 'Twas but part of the villain's plan. After long search I found my darling girl, in a hiding-place whither she had fled from the dreadful Thornhill who, under pretense of marriage, had ruined her. It seems they were married by a black scoundrel who had before married the squire to six or eight other wives! I took my poor darling home. only to be met with the astounding news that my little home was utterly destroyed by fire. With what cheerfulness we might, we made shift to live in one of our farm outbuildings, and endeavored to enjoy our former serenity. But this was not to be. The despicable Thornhill, about to marry Miss Wilmot-yes, the same to whom my son George was once betrothed-made proposal that we marry my Olivia to another, yet let her still be a friend of his own. My righteous denunciation of this resulted in the squire's threats of retribution, and this came in the form of a demand for my annual rent, the which I was all unable to pay. I was there-upon thrown into a debtor's prison, but even here I endeavored to preserve my calm, and after my usual meditations, and having praised my Heavenly Corrector, I slept with the utmost tranquillity. Man frequently calls in the consolations of philosophy, which" I have found, are amusing, but often fallacious. In the prison, though I attempted a much-needed reform movement, and though I lectured and ad- vised with all my powers, I suffered many and various sorrows and disappointments. I was informed of the death of my daughter, Olivia-an untrue report, thank Heaven! I was told of the forcible abduction of Sophia by desperate villains. From this danger, however, dear Sophia was rescued by Mr. Burchell, to whom I willingly gave my treasure for a wife. And, we then learned that our friend Mr. Burchell was in reality the great Sir William Thorn-hill, and my daughter would be a fine lady. And, another joy, I learned that my daughter Olivia was the lawful wife of Squire Thorn-hill, his previous marriages all having been so performed by the wicked clergyman that they were not legal. Whereupon, my son George having reappeared, Miss Wilmot, his one-time love, accepted anew his offers, and those two were happy together. As a cap-sheaf to my harvest of good fortune, the rascal who did me out of my fortune so long ago was arrested and forced to give up his effects. My wrongs being set right, I, of course, was freed of the prison, and it now remained only that my gratitude in good fortune should exceed my former submission in adversity. |