THE SPECTATOR'S RETURN TO TOWN

by Joseph Addison and Richard Steele

Having notified to my good friend Sir Roger that I should set out for London the next day, his horses were ready at the appointedhour in the evening; and attended by one of his grooms, I arrivedat the country town at twilight, in order to be ready for thestage-coach the day following. As soon as we arrived at the inn,the servant, who waited upon me, enquired of the chamberlain inmy hearing what company he had for the coach? The fellowanswered, Mrs. Betty Arable, the great fortune, and the widow hermother; a recruiting officer (who took a place because they wereto go); young Squire Quickset her cousin (that her mother wishedher to be married to); Ephraim the Quaker, her guardian; and agentleman that had studied himself dumb, from Sir Roger deCoverley's. I observed by what he said of myself, that accordingto his office he dealt much in intelligence; and doubted not butthere was some foundation for his reports for the rest of thecompany, as well as for the whimsical account he gave of me. Thenext morning at day-break we were all called; and I, who knew myown natural shyness, and endeavour to be as little liable to bedisputed with as possible, dressed immediately, that I might makeno one wait. The first preparation for our setting-out was, thatthe captain's half-pike was placed near the coachman, and a drumbehind the coach. In the mean time the drummer, the captain'sequipage, was very loud, that none of the captain's things shouldbe placed so as to be spoiled; upon which his cloke-bag was fixedin the seat of the coach: and the captain himself, according toa frequent, tho' invidious behaviour of military men, ordered hisman to look sharp, that none but one of the ladies should havethe place he had taken fronting to the coach-box.

We were in some little time fixed in our seats, and sat with thatdislike which people not too good-natured usually conceive ofeach other at first sight. The coach jumbled us insensibly intosome sort of familiarity; and we had not moved above two miles,when the widow asked the captain what success he had in hisrecruiting? The officer, with a frankness he believed verygraceful, told her, "That indeed he had but very little luck, andhad suffered much by desertion, therefore should be glad to endhis warfare in the service of her or her fair daughter. In aword," continued he, "I am a soldier, and to be plain is mycharacter: you see me, Madam, young, sound, and impudent; takeme yourself, widow, or give me to her, I will be wholly at yourdisposal. I am a soldier of fortune, ha!" This was followed bya vain laugh of his own, and a deep silence of all the rest ofthe company. I had nothing left for it but to fall fast asleep,which I did with all speed. "Come," said he, "resolve upon it,we will make a wedding at the next town. We will wake thispleasant companion who has fallen asleep, to be the brideman"(and giving the quaker a clap on the knee) he concluded "This slysaint, who I'll warrant, understands what's what as well as youor I, widow, shall give the bride as father." The quaker, whohappened to be a man of smartness, answered, "Friend, I take itin good part that thou hast given me the authority of a fatherover this comely and virtuous child; and I must assure thee, thatif I have the giving her, I shall not bestow her on thee. Thymirth, friend, savoureth of folly: Thou art a person of a lightmind; thy drum is a type of thee, it soundeth because it isempty. Verily, it is not from thy fulness, but thy emptinessthat thou hast spoken this day. Friend, friend, we have hiredthis coach in partnership with thee, to carry us to the greatcity; we cannot go any other way. This worthy mother must hearthee if thou wilt needs utter thy follies; we cannot help it,friend, I say: if thou wilt, we must hear thee; but if thou werta man of understanding, thou wouldst not take advantage of thycourageous countenance to abash us children of peace. Thou art,thou sayest, a soldier; give quarter to us, who cannot resistthee. Why didst thou fleer at our friend, who feigned himselfasleep? He said nothing; but how dost thou know what hecontaineth? If thou speakest improper things in the hearing ofthis virtuous young virgin, consider it as an outrage against adistressed person that cannot get from thee: 'To speakindiscreetly what we are obliged to hear, by being hasped up withthee in this publick vehicle, is in some degree assaulting on the high road."

Here Ephraim paused, and the captain with a happy and uncommonimpudence (which can be convicted and support itself at the sametime) cries, "Faith, friend, I thank thee; I should have been alittle impertinent if thou hadst not reprimanded me. Come, thouart, I see, a smoky old fellow, and I'll be very orderly theensuing part of my journey. I was going to give myself airs,but, ladies, I beg pardon."

The captain was so little out of humour, and our company was sofar from being soured by this little ruffle, that Ephraim and hetook a particular delight in being agreeable to each other forthe future; and assumed their different provinces in the conductof the company. Our reckonings, apartments, and accommodation,fell under Ephraim; and the captain looked to all disputes uponthe road, as the good behaviour of our coachman, and the right wehad of taking place as going to London of all vehicles comingfrom thence. The occurrences we met with were ordinary, and verylittle happened which could entertain by the relation of them:but when I consider'd the company we were in, I took it for nosmall good-fortune that the whole journey was not spent inimpertinences, which to the one part of us might be anentertainment, to the other a suffering. What therefore Ephraimsaid when we were almost arriv'd at London had to me an air notonly of good understanding but good breeding. Upon the younglady's expressing her satisfaction in the journey, and declaringhow delightful it had been to her, Ephraim delivered himself asfollows: "There is no ordinary part of human life whichexpresseth so much a good mind, and a right inward man, as hisbehaviour upon meeting with strangers, especially such as mayseem the most unsuitable companions to him: such a man, when hefalleth in the way with persons of simplicity and innocence,however knowing he may be in the ways of men, will not vaunthimself thereof; but will the rather hide his superiority tothem, that he may not be painful unto them. My good friend(continued he, turning to the officer), thee and I are to part byand by, and peradventure we may never meet again: but be advisedby a plain man: modes and apparel are but trifles to the realman, therefore do not think such a man as thyself terrible forthy garb, nor such a one as me contemptible for mine. When twosuch as thee and I meet, with affections as we ought to havetowards each other, thou shouldst rejoice to see my peaceabledemeanour, and I should be glad to see thy strength and abilityto protect me in it."