TOM JONES.
Tom was a native of Newcastle-upon-Tyne. His father was a clothier, whose business he followed until he was two-and-twenty years of age. In that period, however, the prominent dispositions of his mind were displayed, by extravagance, and running into debt. In order, therefore, to retrieve his circumstances, he went upon the highway.
Out of gratitude for his father’s kindness, he commenced by robbing him of eighty pounds and a good horse. Unaccustomed to such work, he rode, under the impression that he was pursued and in danger of being taken, no less than forty miles. Arriving in Staffordshire, he attacked and robbed the stage-coach of a considerable booty. During the scuffle, several shots were fired at the passengers, but no injury was done.
A monkey belonging to one of the passengers, being tied behind the coach, was so frightened with the firing, that he broke his chain, and ran for his life. At night, as a countryman was coming over a gate, pug leaped out of the hedge upon his back, and clung very fast. The poor man, who had never seen such an animal, imagined that he was no less a person than the devil; and when he came home, thundered at the door. His wife looked out at the window, and asked him what he had got. “The devil!” cried he, and entreated that she would go to the parson, and beg his assistance. “Nay,” quoth she, “you shall not bring the devil in here. If you belong to him, I don’t; so be content to go without my company.” Poor Hob was obliged to wait at his door until one of his neighbors, wiser than the rest, came, and with a few applesand pears, dispossessed him of the devil, and got him for his pains. He accordingly carried him to the owner, and received a suitable reward.
Tom’s next adventure was with a Quaker, who formerly kept a button shop, but, being reduced in his circumstances, he was going down to the country to avoid an arrest. In this situation he was more afraid of a bailiff than a robber. Therefore, when Tom took hold of him by the coat, broadbrim very gravely said, “At whose suit dost thou detain me?”—“I detain thee on thy own suit, and my demand is for all thy substance.” The Quaker having discovered his mistake, added, “Truly, friend, I don’t know thee, nor can I indeed imagine that ever thee and I had any dealings together.”—“You shall find then,” said Jones, “that we shall deal together now.” He then presented his pistol. “Pray, neighbor, use no violence, for if thou carriest me to jail, I am undone. I have fourteen guineas about me, and if that will satisfy thee, thou art welcome to take them. Here they are, and give me leave to assure thee, that I have frequently stopped the mouth of a bailiff with a much less sum, and made him affirm to my creditors that he could not find me.” Jones received the money, and replied, “Friend, I am not such a rogue as thou takest me to be: I am no bailiff, but an honest, generous highwayman.”—“I shall not trouble myself,” cried the Quaker, “about the distinction of names; if a man takes my money from me by force, it concerns me but little what he calls himself, or what his pretences may be for so doing.”
At another time Tom met with lord and lady Wharton, and though they had three men attending, demanded their charity in his usual style. His lordship said, “Do you know me, sir, that you dare be so bold as stop me upon the road?”—“Not I; I neither know nor care who you are. I am apt to imagine that you are some great man, because you speak so big; but, be as great as you will, sir, I must have you to know, that there is no man upon the road so great as myself; therefore, pray be quick in answering my demands, fordelays may prove dangerous.” Tom then received two hundred pounds, three diamond rings, and two gold watches.
Upon another day, Tom received intelligence that a gentleman was upon the road with a hundred pounds. He waited upon the top of a hill to welcome his approach. A steward of the gentleman discovered him, and suspecting his character, desired that the money might be given to him, and he would ride off with it, as the robber would not suspect him. This was done; Tom came forward, stopped the coach, and the gentleman gave him ten pounds. He was greatly enraged, and mentioned the sum he knew the gentleman carried along with him. In an instant, however, suspecting the stratagem, he rode after the steward with all possible speed; but the latter observing him in pursuit, increased his pace, and reached an inn before Tom could overtake him.
After many similar adventures, Tom was apprehended for robbing a farmer’s wife. He was so habituated to vice, that nothing but the gallows could arrest his course, and in the forty-second year of his age he met with that fate, on the 25th April 1702.