which ſhe in the ſame Manner returned, and their Converſation began, as uſual, on the delicious Beauty of the Morning. Hence they paſt to the Beauty of the Place, on which Jones launched forth very high Encomiums. When they came to the Tree whence he had formerly tumbled into the Canal, Sophia could not help reminding him of that Accident, and ſaid, ‘I fancy, Mr. Jones, you have ſome little ſhuddering when you ſee that Water.’ ‘I aſſure you, Madam,’ anſwered Jones, ‘the Concern you felt at the Loſs of your little Bird, will always appear to me the higheſt Circumſtance in that Adventure. Poor little Tommy, there is the Branch he ſtood upon. How could the little Wretch have the Folly to fly away from that State of Happineſs in which I had the Honour to place him? His Fate was a juſt Puniſhment for his Ingratitude.’ ‘Upon my Word, Mr. Jones,’ ſaid ſhe, ‘your Gallantry very narrowly eſcaped as ſevere a Fate. Sure, the Remembrance muſt affect you.’ ‘Indeed, Madam,’ anſwered he, ‘if I have any Reaſon to reflect with Sorrow on it, it is, perhaps, that the Water had not been a little deeper, by which I might have eſcaped many bitter Heart-achs, that For-tune
