almost broke his heart at first, but that he was driven to the last
extremity, and could do nothing but stay and see them all starve, which
he could not bear the thoughts of, but should have pistolled himself if
any such thing had happened while he was there; that he left (me) his
wife all the money he had in the world but L25, which was as little as
he could take with him to seek his fortune in the world. He could not
doubt but that his relations, seeing they were all rich, would have
taken the poor children off, and not let them come to the parish; and
that his wife was young and handsome, and, he thought, might marry
again, perhaps, to her advantage, and for that very reason he never
wrote to her or let her know he was alive, that she might in a
reasonable term of years marry, and perhaps mend her fortunes; that he
resolved never to claim her, because he should rejoice to hear that she
had settled to her mind; and that he wished there had been a law made to
empower a woman to marry if her husband was not heard of in so long a
time, which time, he thought, should not be above four years, which was
long enough to send word in to a wife or family from any part of the
world.

Amy said she could say nothing to that but this, that she was satisfied
her mistress would marry nobody unless she had certain intelligence that
he had been dead from somebody that saw him buried. "But, alas!" says
Amy, "my mistress was reduced to such dismal circumstances that nobody
would be so foolish to think of her, unless it had been somebody to go
a-begging with her."

Amy then, seeing him so perfectly deluded, made a long and lamentable
outcry how she had been deluded away to marry a poor footman. "For he is
no worse or better," says she, "though he calls himself a lord's
gentleman. And here," says Amy, "he has dragged me over into a strange
country to make a beggar of me;" and then she falls a-howling again, and
snivelling, which, by the way, was all hypocrisy, but acted so to the
life as perfectly deceived him, and he gave entire credit to every word
of it.

"Why, Amy," says he, "you are very well dressed; you don't look as if
you were in danger of being a beggar." "Ay, hang 'em!" says Amy, "they
love to have fine clothes here, if they have never a smock under them.
But I love to have money in cash, rather than a chestful of fine
clothes. Besides, sir," says she, "most of the clothes I have were given
me in the last place I had, when I