which thereupon they did,
and stopped over against the Compter gate by the Stocks Market.[63] She
wondered at all this, but by the time they have been in a tavern a very
little space, back comes Jonathan's emissary with the green purse and
the gold in it. _She says, sir_, said the fellow to Wild _she has only
broke a guinea of the money for garnish and wine, and here's all the
rest of it. Very well_, says Jonathan, _give it to the lady. Will you
please to tell it, madam?_ The lady accordingly did, and found there
were forty-nine. _Bless me!_ says she. _I think the woman's bewitched,
she has sent me ten guineas more than I should have had. No, Madam_,
replied Wild, _she has sent you back again the ten guineas which she
received for the book; I never suffer any such practices in my way. I
obliged her, therefore, to give up the money she had taken as well as
that she had stole. And therefore I hope, whatever you may think of her,
that you will not have a worse opinion of your humble servant for this
accident._

The lady was so much confounded and confuted at these unaccountable
incidents, that she scarce knew what she did; at last recollecting
herself, _Well, Mr. Wild_, says she; _I think the least I can do is to
oblige you to accept of these ten guineas. No_, replied he, _nor of ten
farthings. I scorn all actions of such a sort as much as any man of
quality in the kingdom. All the reward I desire, Madam, is that you will
acknowledge I have acted like an honest man, and a man of honour._ He
had scarce pronounced these words, before he rose up, made her a bow,
and went immediately down stairs.

The reader may be assured there is not the least mixture of fiction in
this story, and yet perhaps there was not a more remarkable one which
happened in the whole course of Jonathan's life. I shall add but one
more relation of this sort, and then go on with the series of my
history. This which I am now going to relate happened within a few doors
of the place where I lived, and was transacted in this manner.

There came a little boy with vials in a basket to sell to a surgeon who
was my very intimate acquaintance. It was in the winter, and the weather
cold, when one day after he had sold the bottles that were wanted, the
boy complained he was almost chilled to death with cold, and almost
starved for want of victuals. The surgeon's maid, in compassion to the
child, who was not above nine or ten years old, took him into the
kitchen,