PENNY LONDON:— SUNDAY, AUGUST 9, 1840, Plerrp & onge for itlrrrii fttomcnts. No. I. " IN HIS CUPS." llolice. TERRIFIC MASSACRE OF A TRIBE 01 INDIANS, Wok JOHN DELF. ( WRITTEN FOR " THE PENNV SUNDAY TIMES," BY THOMAS PRF. ST ) John Delf he was a thirsty soul, And kept a china shop, Where ranged around was many a bowl To prove he liked a drop. But Johnny's wife abhorr'd all sups, And said, that such a sot Who was so often in his cups Must bring them soon to pot ! Now, John he was a burly mail, Whose nose was pimply red; And those who did his person scan, Could see he was well fed. Each one was ready to declare, ( He was so rosy mug- e, ed,) " l'was plain he did nor live on air, Or, if he did, ' twas jug-% e<\. John Delf was no musician ; yet If he'd been, deny who can— As lie his pipes so oft did wet He'd have made a perfect Pan ! Some people say that literature Just suited his digestion; For who more eloquent you're sure Upon the China question ? Through drink did family.; nrs ensue— The cause of all their evil ; So John declared his wife should rue,— He'd pitch- her to the devil ! " Oh i would that we had ne'er been swish'd, Said she, " you so disgrace ' uu ; We by this game shall soon be dish'd,— Oh ! Johnny, you're a base ' un ! " But still so fond 9f wet was he, He carried on his reign ; All liquors suited him to a T,— Though tea he tried in vain. And though his shop was not o'ersto'. k'd, His propensity was such, It was allow'd, though people mock'd, He'd always a cup too much. While nations talk of waging war, The Chinese to chastise, John seized a quicker way by far, Which, perhaps, will some surprise.— One night, among the crockery ware, So drunk you'd scarce divine, he Fell among his stock, aud there Sad was the fall of China ! This accident poor Mrs. Delf, Her anguish much increases ; For like the china on her shelf, Her peace was broke to pieces ! A remedy she could not find To ease her bitter pain ; And so she with a penknife, mind, Did cut her j « </- ular vein 1 John did not live long after her,— His glass was nearly run ; But still, for Johnny was no cur, ' He'd not cease till he was done ! Each day much shorter grew his breath, Till brought unto his bier ,- And John, by the grinr tyrant, Death, Was turned to earthenware. jection to satisfy the young woman in this way, if she would only acknowledge that he did not strike her. The question was put; and not only did the young woman declare that he gave her two violent blows, but a respectable person who happened to be passing at the time, fully confirmed her statement; whereupon Mr. Simmonds once more laid his hand upon his waist- coat, and raising his eyes to the ceiling, with a " dear me !" sort of look, he withdrew, under the surveillance of the officer who had him in charge, to settle the money matters with his deserted Mary. MARLBOROUCH- STREET. Edward Perkins, a tailor, was placed at the bar to an- swer the complaint of David Simpson, who is a tailor too — that is to say, they are two tailors; Mr. Simpson the master, and Mr. Perkins the man— or, to speak more proverbially, the servant. Mr. Perkins lodges on Mr. David Simpson's premises, near Leicester- square, and at two o'clock in the morning, Mr. David Simpson, being then fast asleep in bed with his wife, was awoke by some person on his side of the bed, leaning over him, and saying—" Be quiet;— can't you?" Atthe same moment Mrs. Simpson screamed, and said, " David Simpson, there's a strange man in the room !" " What the devil do you want here ?" exclaim- ed Mr. David Simpson— valorously jumping out of bed, attd seizing the strange man by the collar. To which the strange mail replied, by giving Mr. David Simpson a thump on tbe eye, and unseaming his shirt from top to bottom ! This was strange treatment in one's own bed- room 1 But Mr. David Simpson kept his hold, Mrs. Simpson alarmed the lodgers, the lodgers called the po- lice, the police catne ( with as much speed as they could,) and when they held their lanterns to the strange man's face,— who should it be but this identical Mr. Perkins! He had not " a word to throw at a dog," as one of the witnesses shrewdly remarked ; and therefore he was at once consigned 10 the care of the policeman, who bundled him away to the station- house. Mr. David Simpson added, that his wife was so much alarmed at the circum- stance, she was quite unable to attend this examination ; but that she had told him she was awoke by some one squeezing her hand tenderly, and saying, as aforesaid, " Be quiet— can't you ?" Mr. Perkins was now called upon for his defence. But first it may be as well to say something of his person. He was youug— say five- and- twenty; short in stature; by no means fat; parenthesis- legged; brush- cropped ; nutmeg complexion ; unvaxinated ; scarlet- trimmed eyes ; an Ashantee nose; and a mouth capacious enough to admit the biggest Battersea cabbage that ever was boiled— " A combination and a form indeed, Where everything did seem to set its seal, To give the word assurance of a tailor!" We have been thus particular in describing the person of Mr. Perkins, in order to show that he had 110 business whatever to be meddling with Mrs. Simpson, or with any other lady. And now for his defence :—" Please your worship, sir," said he, " I have lodged in Mr. David Simpson's house just one month next Toosday week— I think it's Toosday,- but howsomever, that's neither here nor there. I'm a young man from the country, your worship; a tailor by trade.- and so is Mr. David Simpson— only he's a master, and I'm a man.' ( His worship smiled.) Last night, your worship, sir, I met a foo friends, and when I went home 1 had a great deal of trouble to open the street door—(" No doubt of it," observed his worship)— and somehow or other, when I got in, instead of getting " Misther Haloran is a lodger nf ours, and a civilish sort of a jantleman in giueril, and turncock to the New River Company"— " Faith that I am," Mistiness O'Bryan," responded Mr. Haloran *' any time these three years,— come a fort- night after last St. Patrick's- day !" " Very good, Misther Haloran ; and ye see I wouldn't be telling a lie for the matter— why should I?" rejoined Mrs. O'Bryan, very complacently ;— and then, turning to the magistrate, she proceeded—" And p'lase your magis- trate, Misther Haloran is a nice civilish sort of young jan- tleman as a body would be wishing to be spaking to— ounly that time he conldna withstand timptation; and that was last Sathurday, after tay, when my husband wasn't in the place, and'the childer were abed, and I was ironing their best bits of frocks for the Sunday, plase your magistrate. And Misther Haloran sat down by the fire mighty quiet—' And what do 1 owe you, Misthress O'Brian, says he—' for therint?' says he. ' Just one week of it, Misther Haloran,' say I, ' for you're a nice man, and always true for the riot, and 1 likes to have you for a lodger overmuch." Och ! bad luck to me for saying that! for Mr. Haloran couldna stand the kind word at all, hut. must be flinging out his courtships at me— against both the law atid the gospel— saving your magistrate's presence. ' And what would ye be after, Misther Halo- ran?' says I.—' Don't you know I'm the mother of my husband's childer any time these thirteen long years— and himself coming in every minute, may be, Misther Haloran !' says I. ' Gad's blood 1 Misthress O'Bryan.' says he,' to the devil I will pitch him, for myself can't do without ye any longer at all 1' aud down on his knees he went to me at that time, mighty queer: and up he gathers himself again, and comed at me ; and 1 tried to smooth him down with the hot- iron, but he wouldn't be quiet by no manes for me ; and a noise comed to the door, and 1 squaled, and the neighbours corned trembling into the place, and there was an end on't— plase your magis- trate." Whilst Mrs. O'Bryan was telling her story, Mr. Haloran stood carefully wiping his hat ; and when she had done, the magistrate asked him what he had to say for himself; at the same time telling him he thought he had behaved very grossly. " Devil burn me ! your worchip," replied Mr. Haloran —" but I'm just fit to split for spaking 1 Och! woman, woman ! what is there half— hut my honour's con- sarued, your worchip, and 1 won't— 1 won't say nothing, come what will!" The gallant Turncock persisted ill this generous for- bearance, and he was held to bail to answer for the loving ' assault at the ensuing Sessions. GOOSE V. GANDER.— Mr. Jones, of Clapham, who kept in his hen- yard a fine stock of fat geese, and whose phi- losophical notions were so eccentrical, that he one day declared, in a public coffee- house, it was his decided opinion " that geese and ganders were possessed of souls and minds as well as men;" on getting up the next morning to pay a visit to his immortal and intellectual poultry, he found that all their bodies had unaccountably taken wing, and left their heads behind them, with the following scroll, scribbled on a scrap of parchment, and tacked on to the guillotined sconce of the fattest gander in the stock. " Since ( though ' twas never yet divin'd, In Athens or in Greece^ Your wisdom has explor'd a mind In ganders and in geese ; Goosecaps to treat of diff'rent kinds, With eating and with arg'ing, ' I take their bodies, you their minds, Which has the better bargain ?." FRIAR BACON. Oh ! would lhat Hogg were now alive; This subject to have taken, For who so fitting as a Hogg, To poetise on Bacon? The Friar Bacon seen above, With gills so fat and rosy, Would rusty get, without good fare, To make him gay and cosy. A lusty saint indeed is he, A man of stable merit; Who, if he should feel weak in flesh, Is always strong in spirit. No one more zealous than is he, In conduct none more tidy, For every day throughout the year, Is to him a good Fry- day ! AMUSEMENT VERSUS DRINKING— A singing and danc- ing people is certainly higher in the scalo of morality than a sotting people. The national ballad and the national dance upon the way to every department of poetry and music; when people have reached this point, it is easy to awaken the feelings for everv kind and degree of art. The hundreds who resort to a mu- seum cannot at the same time be sitting in an alehouse or a shop. Nor is this all: they will soon come to feel the boundless disparity that exists between men whom art raises into demi- gods and animals in human shape degraded by drunkenness below the level of brutes. It is an error to suppose that Christianity forbids the education of man by the forms, the influences, the conception of art: it forbids only those perversions and misapplications of art which the noble and the uncor- rupted among the Greeks equally rejected.— Raumer. GIVE YOUR SON A TRADE.— Solon enacted that chil- dren", who did not mantain their parents in old age, when in want, should be branded with infamy, and fuse privilege of citizens; he however expected from this rule, those children whom their parents had taught no trade, nor provided with other means of procuring a livelihood. MANSION- HOUSE. A DRAWBACK.— An ancient looking footman, clad In the most ancient costume, and stating himself to be the domestic of an ancient family, attended to prefer a charge of gross assault against a couple of roguish- looking ur- chins, who grinned like a pair of rival street- doorknock- ers during the time the case was going on. The plaintiff, who, in addition to the other interesting appealances we have described, wore a cocked hat, and that nearly obsolete appendage, a pig- tail, while the col- lar and back of his coat presented a thick layer of powder, • stated the case. He said that he had been the evening before to attend his lady to a party at a nobleman's house, and while standing at the street door for a few minutes, to address a few words to a friend, the defendants, with malice aforethought, did then and there, wickedly and wilfully tie his tail to the knocker, so that when he went to quit the place, he received a sudden draw- hack, which put him to considerable pain, and no small inconvenience; inasmuch as he not only disturbed the whole neighboor- , hood by the loud knocking he made in endeavouring to getaway, blithe was in imminent danger of pulling his bead oft. While 111 this situation he heard giggling and laughing, and looking in the direction from whence the souuds seemed to proceed, he beheld the two defendants standing behind a post, aud grinning exultingly at the mischief their own hands had effected. Consequently, when he was released, he gave them in charge. - The Lord Mayor having asked the defendants what they had to say to the charge, they admitted that " it was a tale, alas ! too true," but having expressed their con- trition, and promised u'> t to offend so again, they were severely reprimanded and discharged. BOW- STREET. MUMFORD V. SIMMONDS— This was a proceeding against Mr. Simmonds, a nicely- powdered, spruce old personage, of some three score years, or thereabouts— for an assault upon a pretty young woman, named Jane Mumford, which assault commenced in love, and all that sort of thing. Eight years ago Jane Mumford was in service, as lady's inaid. She was then as happy as the days were long, and so she might have continued, she said, had she not met, in an evil hour, with a gentleman, who called himself " Mr. Skinner, of Fleet- street." She met with liiin one fine summer's evening, and he soon contrived to wheedle himself into her affections. Other interviews succeeded: " Mr. Skinner, of Fleet- street," prevailed upon her to leave her place ; and in process of time she found herself in a way to give birth to a little Master Skinner; but Mr. Skinner told her not to alarm herself, for he would never forsake her— 110 never. As Ihe time of her accouchement approached, however, his visits became less anil less frequent, and nl last he absented himself altogether, leaving her lo all the misery, and all the expense of her peculiar si- tuation. In this dilemma she sought for her faithless lover by the address he had given her—" Mr. Skinner, of Fleet- steet." She became a mother, surrounded by the most distressing poverty ; and after suffering pri- vations of every kind during her confinement, she placed the child at nurse with a good woman in the Edgeware- road. As she was walking through Temple . bar the other day, she, to her great surprise, saw " Mr. Skinner, of Fleet- street." He Was bustling to- wards Ihe City— spruce, and powdered, and erect as truth itself. Saw him enter a shop in the neighbour- hood of St. Paul's, where he remained some time.— When he had left, she went in, and asked the shopman to oblige her with " that gentleman's address;" and by his answer she found that her faithless " Mr. Skin- ner, of Fleet- street,'' was no other than Mr. James Simmonds, of Bedford- street, tailor!— She applied to liim for some pecuniary compensation for the extraor- dinary expenses he had occasioned her, but he peremp- torily ordered her to depart; and upon her remonstrat- ing with him, he took her by Ihe shoulders, and giving her two severe blows on the back, thrust her out of doors.— It was for this assault she now sought re- dress. Mr. Simmonds laid his hand on his heart— at all events, he laid it on the left side of his waistcoat— and said, he had " some reason to believe" that the young woman's story was not true. " What! do you mean to deny all acquaintance with her P" asked his worship. Mr. Simmonds replied, that he did not mean to deny it altogether; but he thought it was not probable he was father of the child— 1 Here the young woman snatched up the Bible, and kissing it fervently, she solemnly declared that she never in her life had intimacy with any other man. MAGISTRATE.— Pray, Mr. Simmonds, let me ask you one question. Did you represent yourself to her as Mr. Skinner, of Fleet- street? SIMMONDS.— Why really, your worship, I do not exactly recollect tlint I did. ^ MAGISTRATE.— Will you swear, sir, that yo not} Mr. Simmontls again laid his hand upon his waist- coat, and after a few moments of profound considera- tion, he replied, that he had 110 recollection of having called himself " Mr. Skirmefr? of Fleet- street." After a few further interrogatories, Mr. Simmonds admitted that he certainly could not have given his own name and address in such an affair. The magistrate told liim that he was bound in ho- nour to make the object of his seduction some recom- pence for the expense lie had put her to. Mr. Simmonds observed, that he had no sort of ob- one, that the- e woulf be no more ef it. However, 011 the night of the 12th of May, the tribe of Sussesquah were awakened by the terrific yells of their enemies, and before they had time to arm themselves, they were attacked and slaughtered in the most bar- barous manner, some in their cabins, and others in endeavouring to make their escape. I lie savage Powontonamo spared neither age nor sex, and seemed to exult in the des- pairing cries of his defenceless enemies. Out of upwards of two hundred persons, only three have escaped. The ill- fated Oneida was dragged out ofher cabin by the monster, I owontonaino, and violated 111 the presence of her father; after which she was cruelly murdered, and her father was literally hacked to pieces. Finding no others on whom to vent Ins fury, Powontonamo and his tribe set fire to the cabins, and completely de- stroyed them, then left the place, and no traces ofthe ronte he has taken have yet been discovered. The American Journals have lately reached u. s, from which we learn that R feud hav- ing arisen between Powontonamo, the chief of a tribe of Mohawks, and Sussesquah another chief, has led to a most terrible slaughter among the tribe of the latter. It ap pears that Powontonamo had become enamoured of Oneida, the daughter of Susses quah, and priding himself upon his own power, peremptorily demanded her of he father, who as peremptorily refused, lie having for some time entertained feelings o animosity towards the former. This exasperated Powontonamo, and he swore to hi revenged. The subtle Indian's vengcance is sure, when once it is aroused, and the for- feiture of his own life is considered as nought by him, so thai he can gratify it. Tin truth of this has been too fatally verified in the late horrible affair, by the conduct ofthi blood- thirsty and sanguinary Poworrtouamo. Months elapsed, and no further notice o the subject was taken by either of the chiefs, and it might have been imagined by an; into my own rVoomi I go' into the yard; it's a sort of timber- yard ; au. d there I was, poking about amongst the timber, please yonr worship— I'm sure for a good long hour, and I couldn't find my road out of it for the life of me !•— and at last I tflund myself in Mr. David Simpson's bed- room ; but I'll bf- hanged if ever I touched his wife, or struck him ; and I'll gjve you my honour that I did not go there intentionally." His worship had no faith in the honour of Mr. Perkins, and he was ordered to fin d bail for the assault, in detault whereof he was handed ovjer to the gaoler. MARVLEBONE. Mrs. O'Bryan, better half of Tim O'Bryan, charged Mr. Patrick Haloran, a come'ty young man, of five- and- twenty, with attempting to niallB higpji false woman to her own lawful married husband ! " And please your magistral*/' sait> Mrs. O'Bryan, ANECDOTE.— A foolish idle fellow at Florence, hear- ing lhat a physician hail obtained great crcdit and wealth by Ihe sale of some pills, undertook to make pills himself, and to sell them. He administered Ihe same pills to all persons whatever; and, as by chance, they sometimes succeeded, his name became famous. A countryman called on him, and desired to know if his pills would enable him to find an ass he had lately lost. Ths quack made him swallow six pills. In his way home, the operation of the pills obliged him to retire into a wood, where he found his ass. The clown spread a report that he knew a doctor who sold pills that would recover strayed cattle. Dr. Franklin has said, " where I see a house well fur- nished with books and newspapers, there I see intelligent and well informed children ; hut if there are no books or papers, the children are ignorant, if not profligate-" THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES, AND PEOPLE'S POLICE GAZETTE- 1 THE SHIPWRECK. " Hark! peals the thunder of the signal gun." BYRON. The day had been particularly fine, and I stood ad- miring the departure of the sun as he was rapidly re- tiring from the surface of the ocean,* whose watery cridges were beautifully crimsoned with his parting • beams; when my attention was attracted Hfy a group • of peasants, who were silently watching the appear- ance of something on the boundless deep, though its distance rendeied it as jet scarcely discernible. I • turned mv eyes tow arils the object which had so firmly fixed their attention, and in a short time beheld a vessel nailing in gallant trim before the breeze, which tilled her canvass. After observing it for a considerable time, I saw it stop suddenly in its course, and the sails, which but a minute before were swelled out by the " wind, hang motionless, while the streaming pennon ; curled itself round toe mast. From the conversation of some old men who stood by me, 1 found her situation • was by no means enviable. One, who by his silver hairs and hoary look, sennrd lo be the senior of the party, was remarking to his neighbour, " Say what you will, Divy, hut T like not Ihe look of yon sky ; those little clouds bode no good to the dweller on t » e salt- si'as; and, for mypait, I'd rattier pass a week of nights in St. Edmund's turret, w here the ghost of ^ sterling is for ever crying out, ' Beware 1 Edmund, Beware!' than I would be now upon those sleepy waves." The person who stood next him, and whom I had concluded to be a fisherman, from the old and tattered jacket which he wore, added to the foreboding remarks < of the first speaker, " Aye, aye ; 1 ween ye speak ihe truth, and may I never draw net again if some harm comes not to yon brig before midnight. I well re- member when, forty years ago last March, the ' Bonny " Gilderoy' stuck in the same place. She little knew her danger, nor thought that rocks were there; hut the tirst squall pitched her bows under, and in half an hour she was shivered plank from plank. I shall never forget that day, nor the song which mad Wilson, as he was called, made the same day. Hold now, you shall hear it, unless my memory be buried w ith him who made it. The old fisherman proceeded lo sing, in a tone by no means musical, yet suited well to the song itself, and to the scenery around :— THE BONNY GILDEROY. The winter's snow was on the ground, The winds of March blew c„ ld, The gallant sun refused to shine, To waste his beams of gold. The sea look'd wild, the sky look'd daik, Loud was the see- gulls'joy ; When from the west, on the billows breast, Came the Bonny Gilderoy. Anon the slumb'ring winds arose And swept the briny sea, The waves that long lay still and dead, Now danced right merrily ; They beat against the rugged rocks, Aye, threat'ning to destroy, But careless still, of good or ill, Sailed the Bonny Gilderoy. The thunders shook the murky sky, The forked lightnings flashed, While loud the sparkling billows roar'd That o'er the Swiskers » dashed. The danger bids all hands aloft, And finds them full employ, For the lightning past, and struck the mast, Of the Sonny Gilderoy. And then the piercing shriek was heard, Mi ' d with the ocean's roar, For - all was lost; and the gallant ship Shall plough the waves no more, or many a corse wai- < ast on shore, The ravens to decoy, Which hovering Hew round the lifeless crew Of the Bonny Gilderoy. The song was scarcely ended, when a rough- looking jailor, w TO had been all along gazing from the heavens t. « iti' ° ea, » i,, i then to the ship, exclaimed aloud, - l) « lld your tongue, Tom, we shall have enou- h noise •-" fcjtm^ itly, for there goes Ihe cormorant and t - RUI1; nnd V - lie black clouds deceive me not, we shall soon hear i^ e cries of man mixed with their curse;! croaking, and the ' fur of the dashing breakers ; so bear a hand, let's dov. • v. U ::.; •".• the skiffs ; there is no time to lose with s sky abov. i so still a sea be- low us." With that e boun V. if, followed by his companion, and they were scion lost amidst Ihe wind- ings of the rocks. This seemed a signal for the whole to depart, and in a short time 1 was the only one left, except, indeed, a young man, who till now had escaped my observation, and who was leaning against an old wall a short way off, with his arms folded, and apparently regardless of everything, save the vessel, upon which he had fixed his eyes immoveably. But Ihe darkness of the night, which now came on apace, concealed him from me, and I fancied he h » d, following the example of the rest, reliied to his home. The moon now rose, but the scud which swept wildly over the horizon, only permitted it to be seen at intervals, while the largeness and the pale- ness of the halo with which it was surrounded, evidently indicated the approach of a storm, which was confined by the awful stillness which reigned on earth. The few withered leaves which still clung to Ihe branches, rustled with a fearful motion; while the waves came slowly to Ihe shore, and sent forth a low and hollow sound as they beat against the cliff, or flowed over the shells and pebbles of the coast. Darkness now as- erted her power uncontrolled. No • object could be discerned, save here and there a faint glimmer which shone through the window of the cot- tager, and even that was hardly distinguishable, for the inmates had well nigh excluded all light, by crowding round its source, where they sat either silently gazing at each other, or else relating some doleful narrative, of itself sufficient to terrify the superstitious peasants, without the assistance of the portending elements. Many a tale of most terrifying description had already been told, when that but half related was deprived of its conclusion, and cut short on the verge of its melan- choly catastrophe by a loud blast of wind which threat- ened destruction to half the village, and forcing open the doors, announced to those within the arrival of the storm they had been fearfully expecting. The rain at the same lime, began to descend ; at first in a few large drops which pattered mournfully against the windows, but increasing in a minute to the tempest shower; the lightning flashed faintly along, and the rumbling of the ( tmnder was heard at a distance, though every flash grew more vivid than that which had preceded it, and every peal became louder and louder; while the in lerval between each was filled up'with the whistling of the wind, and the roar of the breakers, which had now risen to considerable violence. Nothing could well be greater than the contrast which at this time existed between the tumult without, and the stillness within doors; for each sat silent and motionless as a statue ; or if any one ventured to speak, it was done in so subdued a tone, that it sounded hut as a whisper; and even then the speaker seemed afraid of infringing upon the rights of the maddened elements. But this lethargy was not doomed to last long, for we were soon roused by the thrilling report of the signal gun, which broke upon the eai with an awful echo, and seemed possessed of an eccentric power— again, once— twice— thrice, the signals were heard in rapid succes- sion ; and now the idea of fellow- beings in danger roused ail from the stupor which the first report cast them into. Each forgot for a while the tempest which a few minutes before had filled them with fear, and rushed toward the shore. By the time I had reached it, the beach was covered with those who, being better acquainted with the ways, had got there before me. But no one could do more than express his feelings in : dden ejaculations, as the lightning, or the flashes from the guns which now kept up an incessant firing, re vealed the vessel to his view, where she might be seen struggling between two sharp rocks, which rose upon ench side of her, and against which the angry breakers beating, caused the surf to cover the ship every minute. The people on the shore either stood motionless with fear, or ran madly from place to place along the rocks to catch a glimpse, if possible, of the stranger vessel, for, to render her any assistance in her present situa- tion was altogether impossible. However, to do all that might'be done, two small boats were brought for- ward, and a liberal reward offered to any who would be hardy enough to risk their lives for ihe preservation of others. Instantly, one of them was occupied by a young man whom, by the glare ofa torch, I recognised to he the same that I had seen at nightfall gazing so attentively on the vessel. The boat darted over a wave, and was lost from sight in a moment. By the flash of guns we could still distinguish ihe brig when- ever the surf, which now rose to a tremendous height presented a clear passage; hut the little skiff seemed to have disappeared for ever, and it as given up for lost by most persons. However, after working iu , ininful suspense for several minutes, it was again ob- served wearing to its object, and a shout from the vessel announced thai the crew had recognised ( he in- trepid hero who had coine to their assistance. But fate seemed determined lo thwart all human efforts for a heavy swell, accompanied with a resistless squall cf wind, forced the ill- fated vessel against one of the rocks she had so long avoided; and, from the confused noise which ensued, we understood, alas! too well, that she was wrecked — that all was past 1 Darkness now completely veiled every object from our sight, and the next flash of lightning shewed us the ship, though still together, yet la'd completely on her beam- ends, and washed by every wave. About an hour after, the storm began to abate, and the moon peeped through the clouds at intervals. We still continued on the beach, in hopes of being able every minute to gain some information concerning the ivreck, but we waited in vain ; the vessel still remained immoveable, and the fragments which floated ashore had nothing on them from which we might learn her name or place of destination. Midnight arrived, and we were well repaid for all our anxiety, by the appear- ance of our little skiff, emerging from the waves with its gallant charge, and two other persons. We hailed it with all our might, but our joy was considerably damped on receiving no answer. A minute brought it to where we stood, but its cargoe was inanimate ; one had censed to breathe,— the generous youth, indeed, was still alive, but the power of utterance was gone, and ere morning, he also was a corpse ; while Ihe third, Ihe maid he loved, and whom he had rescued from a watery grave at the expense of his own life, survived but a week, and now rests beside him in the church, yard of St. D . seen a look of cruelty and perfidy, accompanied with a certain smile which betrayed even baser feelings. ' Wte approach of- such a face near his oWu was more than Colortel D could support ; and when he rose next morning from a feverish and troubled sleep, he could not recollect how or when the accused spectre had departed. When summoned to breakfast, he was asked how he had spent the night, and he endeavoured to conceal his agitation by a general answer, but took the first opportunity to inform his friend, Mr. N , that, having recollected a certain piece of business which awaited him at London, he found it impossible to protract his visit a single night. Mr. IV seemed surprised, and anxiously sought to discover whether any thing occurred to render hirn displeased with his reception ; but finding that his guest was impenetrable, and that his remonstrances against his departure were in vain, he insisted upon shewing Colonel D the beauties of his country residence, after which he re- luctantly bid him farewell. In walking round the mansion, Colonel I) was shewn the outside of the lower where he had slept, and vowed, mentally, never to enter il again. He was next led to a gallery of pictures, where Mr. N took much delight in dis- ulaying a complete serjeij of, fainijy oorpai's. reaching back to a Very remote era. Colonel D had no sooner got a glimpse of it, than he cried out, " May i never leave Ihis spot, if that is not she." Mr. N—— asked wSom he meant. " The detestable phantom that stared me out of my senses last night:" and he related every particular that had occurred. Mr. N , over- whelmed with astonishment, confessed that to the room where his guest had slept, there was attached a certain tfadilion, pointing it out as having been, at a remote peijbd, the sceno of murder and incest, ft had long obtained ihe repute of being haunted by the spirit of the lady whose picture was before him ; but there were some circumstances in her history so atrocious, that her name was seldom mentioned in his family, and his ancestors had always endeavoured as much as possible to draw a veil over her memory. * The ; ene of t name of a chain of hidden rocks, where the •* present narrative is laid. A CHOST STORY. " What! has this thing appeared again to- night ?" HAMLET. About the fall of the leaf, in the year 1737, Colonel D went to visit his friend, Mr. N , at his coun- try seat in the north of England. As this country seat was the scene of a very singular adventure, it may be proper to mention its antiquity and solemnity, which were fitted to keep in countenance the most sombre events, The following circumstances were well- known in the family, and are said to have been related by one of its members, to a lady much celebrated in the lite- rary world, hut now deceased :— Upon arriving at Ihe house of his friend, Colonel D found there many guests, who had already got possession of almost all the apartments. The dullness of an October evening, and the somewhat mournful as- pect of nature at that season, collected them, at an early hour, round the blazing hearth, where they thought no better amusement could be found than the ancient and well- approved one of story- telling, for which all mankind seem to have a relish. I do not mean the practice of circulating abominable slanders against one's friends; but the harmless, the drowsy and good- natured recreation of retailing wonderful narratives, in which, if any ill is spoken, it is generally against such as are well able to bear it, namely, the inemy of mankind, and persons who, having committed trocious crimes, are supposed after death, lo haunt the same spots to which their deeds h; ive attached dis- mal recollections. While these tales went round, the evening darkened apace, and the windows ceased any longer to contrast the small glimmerings of external twilight with the bright blaze of Ihe hearth. The rustling of withered leaves, casually stirred by the wind, is always a melan dholy sound, and on this ocasion, lent its aid to the superstitious impressions which were gaining force by each successive recital of prodigies. One member of Ihe family began to relate a certain tradition, but he was suddenly stopped by their host, who exhibited signs of displeasure, and whispered something to him, at the same lime turning his eyes upon Colonel D . The story was accordingly broken off, and the company went to supper with their, hair standing on end. But so transitory are human impressions, that in a few minutes ihey had all recovered their gaiely, except the Colonel, who was unable to comprehend why any tra- dition should be concealed from him in particular. When they separated to g > to sleep, he was led by Mi. N , as the reader will probably anticipate, to chamber at a great distance from the other bed- rooms and which bore evident marks of having been newly opened, after remaining long unoccupied. In order to dissipate the confined air of the place, a large wood fire had been lighted, and the gloomy bed- curtains were tucked stiffly up in festoons. 1 have not heard whether there was tapestry in the room or not; but one thing is certain, that the room looked as dreary as any tapestry could have made it, even if it had been worked on purpose, by Mrs. Ann Radcliffe herself. Romance writers generally decorate their imaginary walls with all the wisdom of Solomon ; hut, as I am unable to vouch for the truth of every particular mentioned in this story, 1 mean to relate the circumstances faithfully as they were told me, without calling in so wise a man to lend his countenance to them. Mr. N - made apologies to Colonel I) for putting him into an apartment which was somewhat uncomfortable, and which was now opened only because all the rest were already filled. With these excuses, and other suitable compliments, he bade his guest good night, and went away with a good deal of seriousness in his counte- nance, leaving the door sjar behind him. Colonel D , observing that the apartment was large and cold, and that but a small part Of the floor was covered with carpet, endeavoured to shut the door, but found he could only close il half way. Some obstacle in the hinges, or the weight of the door pressing upon the floor, opposed his efforts. Nevertheless, being seized with some absurd fancies, he took the candle and looked out. When he saw nothing, except the long passage, and the vacant apartments beyond, he went to bed, leaving the remains of the fire still flickering upon the broad hearth, and gleaming now and then upon the door as it stood half open. Alter the Colonel had lain for a long while ruminating, half asleep, and when the ashes were now nearly extinguished, he saw the figure of a woman glide in. No noise accompanied her steps. She advanced to the fire- place, and stood between him and the light, with her back towards him, so that he could not see her features. Upon observing her dress, he found that it exactly corresponded in ap- pearance with the ancient silk robes represented in the pictures of English ladies of rank, painted three centuries ago. Ihis circumstance filled him with a degree of terror, which he had never experienced be- fore. The stately garniture of times long past had a frightful meaning, when appearing as it now did, not upon canvass, but upon a moving shape, at midnight. Still endeavouring to shake off those impressions which benumbed him, he raised himself upon his arm, and faintly asked, " Who is there ?" The phantom turned round, approached the bed, and fixed her eyes upon him, so that he now beheld a countenance where some of the worst passions of the living were blended with ? he cadaverous appearance of the dead. In the midst of traits which indicated noble birth and station, was TO CORRESPONDENTS. G R A ' I I S ! I A MOST COSTLY AND SPLENDID PRESENT / Fill be given, on Sunday, August 23rd, To EVERY PURCHASER OE " THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES, and PEOPLE'S POLICE GAZETTE," As a token of gratitude for the increasing patronage bestowed on the above work. The Proprietors of " THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES," have the pleasure to announce to their numerous readers, that they have succeeded in making arrangements with the po- pular Author of " ELA, THE OUTCAST ; OR, THE GIPSY GNTL OF ROSEMARY DELL," " ANGELINA," " GALLANT TOM," & c. & c., for the production of another original Romance, of a peculiar construction, striking incidents, hair- breadth escapes, and startling effects, of the first appearance of which, due notice wilt be given. We feel highly flattered by the compliments of our fair correspondent " JULIA" a id her friends, and perfectly agree with her opinion. Il'ewitlnot forget to act upon her suggestion, as near as we possibly can. We are sorry to say that ihe communication of Mr. J. GROVES, ( Newcistle- on- Tyne,) arrived too late for us to make any use of it. The same answer wilt apply to T. JAMES. FOXWELL. ( Gloucester.) " GALLANT TOM," is not pub- lished in any oi her work than " THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES." and we are not certain yet whether it will appear in a different form. The numbers asked for by our correspondent are out of print. " THE UNFORTUNATE ANGLER," and the charade, by CHARLES JAMF. S C., shall appear. EDWIN WHITE. ( Newcastle.) Your communication shall ' appear in our next. T. H. J. is accepted. We are much obliged to " A JUVENILE," ( Portsmouth,) but his letter did not come to hand in time. The communication forwarded by J. SHIEL, has appeared in almost every publication for the last twenty years. Accepted with thanks : Communications from, JOHN ORTOS, R. Y., W. J. HUDSON, ( Newcastle- on- Tyue,) ALEXANDER, und A. A. L. To our poetic correspondents, we must for the present ex- claim in the words of the poet, " Hold ! enough 1" We are now in arrears with many of our correspon- dents, and till we hove released ourselves, cannot pro- mise to insert any other effusions. All communications to be addressed ( post paid) to the Editor of THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES, 30,.- Curtain ltoad, Shoreditch. satisfied it with anything he could find ; to have a choice in his food appeared to him the vilest sensuality. He spent his whole tlmein prayer, and in reading of the Scriptures The extraordinary Sanctity of ins character occasioned him frequent visits from many pious persons of great rank, who wished to he edified by his counsels and conversation. In those visits he had a great satisfaction, t'roitl Consider- ing the advantage that might thence accrue to the cause of religion; but lie began to fear, lest a motive of vanity, which he was conscious had some share in this gratifica- tion should be offensive in the sight of God. For this he soon found a remedy. He put round his naked body au iron girdle full of sharp points, and whenever a vain thought, came across his imagination, he struck the ui id le with his elbow, so as to force the points into his flesh, and Ihis quickly brought him back to a proper estimation of him- self. This practice he persevered iu till his death. VARIETIES HISTORICAL AND REMARKABLE. Imposter detected.—( From the famous His'orie of Friar Bacou, with the Lives aud Deaths of the conjurors, Bun- gay and Vai'dermast.) " How Friar Bacou deceived his man that would faste for conscience sake. " Friar Bacon liad only one man to attend him, and he too, was none of the wisest, for he kept him in charity more than for any service he had of him. This man of " li's, named ' Miles',' never could endure to fast like other religions persons did, for he always had in one cot- tier or other flesh, which he would eat when his master had bread only, or tlse did fast and abstain from all things. Fliar Bacon on seeing this, thought at one time Of other to be even with hint, which he did on Friday in this man- ner. Miles on the Thursday night had provided a great black pudding for his Friday's fast ; that pudding he put into his pocket, thinking to warm it so, for bis master had no fire on those days. On the next d; iy who was so de- mure as Miles? He looked as though he could not have are anything ; when his master oftered him some bread, he refused it, saying his sins deserved a greater penance than one day's fast in a whole week. His master com- mended him for it, and bid him take heed he did not dis- semble, for if he did it Wouid at last be known. ' Then were I worse than a Turk,' said Miles. " So he went forth, as if he would have gone to pray privately; but it was for nothing but to prey privily on his black pudding, that he pulled out, and fell to it lustily ; but he was deceived, for having pnt one end in his mouth, he could not get it out again, nor bite it off, so that he stamped for help. His master hearing him, came, and finding him in that manner, took hold of the other end of the pudding, atld led him to the hall, and showed him to all the scholars, saying,' See here, my good friends and fellow students, what a devout aiau my servant Miles is ; he loved not to break a fast day, — witness this pudding, that his conscience will not let him swallow.' His master did not not release him till night, when Miles did vow never to break another fast day while he lived." The Philosopher's Stone.— Notwithstanding Sir Edward Dyer, iu the reign of Queeu Elfzabeth, bore the character of a brave and wise intiu, he possessed the folly, with many others of those days, of giving a firm belief to the philosopher's stone. He went ou purpose to Germany, where Kelly, the Alchymist then was, to be a witness of the fact. Soon after his return to London, he diued with my Lord of Canterbury. Amongst the rest of the guests was Doctor Brown. Sir Edward, after dinner, introduced his favourite topic, and the discourse insensibly fell on Kelly. THE PENNY PEOPLES' POLICE GAZETTE. Having been requested by many of our correspondents to resume our extracts from the editor's old portfolio of rarities, we feel much pleasure in complying, and mean occasionally to present thein with similar extracts, fully convinced that they cannot fail to please. REMARKABLE WILL. A copy of the curious will of Mrs. Margaret Thompson, who died April 2, 1777, at her house in Boyle- street, Bur- lington Gardens. In the name of God. Amen. I, Margaret Thompson,& c., being of asound mind, & c., do desire that when my soul is departed from this wicked world, my body and effects may be disposed of in the manner following, & c. 1 also desire that all my handker- chiefs that 1 may have unwashed at the time of my de- cease, after they have been got together by my old and trusty servant, Sarah Stewart, be put by her, and her alone, at the bottom of my coffin, which 1 desire may be made large enough for that purpose, together with such a quantity of the best Scotch snuff ( in which she knovveth I always had the greatest delight) as will cover my deceased body ; aud this 1 desire, and more especially as it is usual to put flowers into the coffins of departed friends, and no- thing can be so pleasant aud refreshing to me, as that precious powder. But I strictly charge that no one be suffered to approach my body till the coffin is closed, and it is necessary to carry me to my burial, which I order iu the following manner :— Six men to be my bearers, who are well known to be great snuff- takers in the parish ot St. James's, Westminster; and instead of mourning, each to wear a snuff- coloured beaver, which I desire to he bought for that purpose, and given to them ; six maidens of my old acquaintance to bear nny pall, each to wear a S proper hood, and to carry a box filled with the best Scotch snuff, to take for their refreshment as they go along. Be- fore my corpse I desire that the minister may be invited to walk, and to take a certain quantity of snuff, not exc,,^. ing one pound, to whom also 1 bequeath five guineas on condition of his doing so. And 1 also desire my ij| j and faithful servant, Sarah Stewart, to walk before th. e corpse to distribute every twenty yards a large handful 0f Scotch snuff to the ground, and to the crowd who m ... ; bly may follow me to the burial place,— on conditio.,, i bequeath her 201. And 1 also desire that at least t wo bushels oi the said snuff may be distributed at the dooi i'if niy house in Boyle street. 1 desire, also, that my funeral shall he at twelve o'clock at noon. And in addut<' ltl to the various legacies I have left my friends in a former will, 1 desire that lo each person there shall be given a pound of the best Scotch snuff, as that is the gu; ,| d cordial of human nature. SINGULAR CHARACTER. Blaise Paschal, a celebrated F e, ich author, at the age of twenty- four, imbibing peculiar sentiments of religion, laid it down as a fixed principle, t0 renounce every grati- fication in life. Although hr.' ed up with delicacy and amidst opulence, he refused iiu. assistance of a servant in the performance of anyfthii| g/ which he could do for him- self. He would notsufkn 1>... t, ed ,0 be made, nor his din- ner to be brought to h i when ihe calls of hunger be- came too ltiirjorWnitf ,.„ » to the kitchen, and hastily " 1 do assure your Grace," said Sir Edward, turning to the archbishop, that what 1 have told you is truth. 1 was an eye- witness, otherwise I should not have believed it. I saw Delly put the lead into the crucible, and after it had infused some time, with a small quantity of the pro- jective powder, and stirred with a wooden spatula, itcame forth iu due proportion perfect gold to the touch of the hammer, and to the test." Said the bishop, " You must take heed what you say, Sir Edward, for here is an infidel at the table." Sir Ed- ward pleasantly replied,— " I should have looked for an infidel any where rather than at your Grace's table." " What say you, Doctor Brown ?" said the bishop. The doctor auswered in his blunt way,— " The geritlemau has said enough for me." " Why," said the bishop, " what has he said ?" " Marry 1" replied Brown, " he said he would not have believed it had lie not been an eye- witness to it, and no more will 11" The Lazy Fever.— The following amusing cxtract is from the old book ou physic, entitled, " The Breviary of Healthe, by Andrew Boorde, Phjsiche Doctoure, an Engysman, anno 1557."— " l'lie 151 chapitre doth shewe of an evyl fever, the which doth comber younge persons, named the fever bur- den ( lazy fever). Among all the fevers, I had almoste forgotten the fever burden, with whiche matiye younge men, younge women, niaydens, and other younge persons bee sore infected now a dayes. " The cause of this infirmittee : — " This fever doth come naturally, or els by evyll and slouthful brynging up. If it do come by nature, then the fever is incurable ; for il can never out of the fleslie that is bred iu the bone ; yf it come by slouthful brynging up, it may be holpeu by diligent labour. A llemedy •: — here is liotyhing for the fevjr bvrden as is ungeeiitnm boculinum ; that is to say, take a sticke or won of a yaVd of length or more, and let if " e as great as a man's fyinger, and with it anoint ihe shoulders inorniug and evening, and do this twenty- one days, and if Ihis fever wyl not be holjien in in that tyme let them beware ot waegynge on the gallows; and whyles theyr do take their medicine, put no lubber- wort in theyr potaee." A Shot and Long Parliament.— The shortest session of Parliament ever known on record, was that in the year 1399, which had but oue session of a single day only, and during that short space of time they contrived to upset one king and set up another. The longest session on record was that which com menced in October 1641, and ended on the 20th of April, 1653, which Oliver Cromwell dissolved with the following noble speech, after sitting twelve years, six months, arid fourteen days.— " It is high lime for me to put an end to your sitting in this place, which you have dishonoured by your contempt of all virtue, aud defiled by your practice of every vice. Ye are a factious crew, ana enemies to all good govern- ment ; you are a pack of mercenary wretches, aud would, like Esau, sell your cottage for a mess of pottage ; and, like Judas, betray your God for a few pieces of money. " Is there a single virtue remaining amongst you ? Is there one vice you do not possess ? You have no more re- ligion than my horse. Gold is your god. Which of you have not bartered away your consciences for bribes ? Is there a man among you that has the least care for the good of the Commonwealth ? Ye sordid prostitutes, have you not defiled this sacred place, and turned the Lord's temple | nto a den of thieves, by your immoral principles and wic - ed practices ? You who were deputed here by the people to get grievances redressed, are yourselves become the greatest grievance. Your country calls upon me to cleanse th. s Augean stable, by putting a final period to your iniquitous proceedings in this house, aud which, by God's heli., and the strength he has given me, I atri now come to do. " 1 i iramand you, therefore, upon the peril of your live; . iepart immediately out of this place. Go: get oi" : - .-. haste, ye venal slaves, begone !— So take away i '" ss of tim ' hat shining bautiie ( the Mace) there, and lock up the i animals, A NOCTURNAL ADVENTURE. Soon after we embarked on hoard of a large canoe that 11had provided, and having shipped a beautiful little mule also, of which 1 liad made a purchase at Panama, we pro- ceeded down the river to the village ofGorgona, where we slept. My apartment was rather a primative concern ; it was simply a roof or shed, thatched with palm- tree leaves, about twelve feet long by eight broad, and sup- ported ou four upright posts at the corners, the eaves being about sis feet high. Underthis, I slung my grass hammock, transversely from corner to corner, tricing it well up to the rafters, So that it lutug abont five feet from the ground ; while beneath Mangrove lit a fire, for the two- fold purpose, as it struck me, of driving off the musquitoes, and converting his Majesty s officer into ham or hung beef; and after having made mulct fast to one of the posts, with a bundle of malojo, or the green stems of Indian cO'rn or maize, under his nose, he borrowed a plank from a neighbouring hut, and laid himself down mi it ai full length, covered up with a blanket, as if he had been a corpse, and soon fi ll fast asleep. As for Sneezer, he lay with his black muzzle resting on his fore paws, that were thrust out straight before him, until they stirred npthe white embers of the fire, with his eyes shut, as if he slept; but Irom theconstant nervous twitching* and pricking tip ot his ears, and bis haunches being gathered up well under him and a small quick switch of his tail, now and then, it was evident he was broad awake, and considered himsell on duty. All was quiet, however, except the rushing of the river hard by, in our bivouac, until midnight, when I was awakened by the shaking of the shed, from the vio- lent struggles ot Molo to break loose, his strong trem- bling thrilling to my neck along the tight cord that held him, as he drew himself in the intervals of his struggles, as far back as he could, proving that the poor brute suf- fered under a paroxysm of fear. " What noise is that?" I roused myself. It was repeated. It was a wild cry, or rather a loud shrill mew, gradually sinking into a deep growl. " What the deuce is that Sneezer .'" said I. The dog made no answer, but merely wagged his tail once, as if he had said, " Wait, a bit now, master; you shall see how well 1 shall acquit myself, for this is in my way.' Ted yards from the shed under which I slept, was a pig- sty, surrounded by a sort of small stockade, 3 fathom high, made of split cane, wove into a kind of wickerwar& V between upright rails, sunk into the ground, and by the clear moonlight, I could, as I lay in my hammock, see an animal larger than an English bull- dog, but, with the stealthy pace ofthe cat, crawl on in a crouching attitude, until within ten yards of the sty, when it drew itself back, and madea scrambling jump against the cane fence, hook- ing oil to the top of it hv its fore paws, while the claws of its hind feet made a scratching rasping noise against the dry caue, until it gathered iis legs into a bunch, like the aforesaid puss, oti the top of the enclosure, trom which elevation the creature seemed to be reconnoitring the un- clean beasts within. 1 grasped my pistols. Mangrove was still sound asleep, ' the struggles of Mulo increased. I. could hear the sweat raining off him; but Sneezer, to my great surprise, remained motionless as before. We now heard the alarmed grunts, and occasionally a sbarpe squeak, from the piggery, as it' the beauties had at length become aware of the vicinity of their dangerous neigh- bour, who, having apparently made his selection, sud- denly dropped down amongst them, when Mulo burst from his fastenings with a yell enough to frighten ihe devil, tearing away the upright to which the lanyard of my hammock was made fast, whereby I was pitched, like a shot, right down on Mangrove's corpus, while a volley of grunting and sqeaking split the sky, such as I never heard before. Sneezer, starting from his lair, sprang into the enclosure, and Peter Mangrove, awakening ail of a heap, from my falling ou him, jumpedon his feet as noisy as the rest. " Garamighty in a tap— wurra all dis— my tomach bruise home'to mv back- bone, like one pan- cake ;" and while the short, fierce bark of the noble dog was blended with the agonised cry of the gatto delmonte, the shrill treble of the poor porkers rose high above both, and the mulo was galloping through the village, with the post after him, like a dog with a pan at his tail, making the most unearthly noises, for it was neither bray nor neigh. The villagers ran out of their huts, headed by Padre Cura, and all was commotion and uproar. Ligti.' s were procured. The noise in the sty continued, and Mangrove, the warin- hearted creature, unsheathing his knife, clambered over the fence to the rescue of his four- footed ally, and disappeared, shouting " Sneezer often fight for Peter, so Peter now will fight for he;" and soon began to blend his shouts with the cries of the enraged rbeasts within. At length the mania spread to me, upou hearing the poor fellow shout " Tiger here, Capiain, tiger here— tiger too many for we — Lud- a- mercy— tiger too many for we, sir,— if you nn help me, we shall he torn in piece." Then a violent struggle, and" a renewal of the uproar, and of the barking, and yelling, aud squeaking. It was no joke ; the life ofa fellow- creature was at stake, so I scrambled up after the pilot to the top of the fence, a young active Spaniard following with a large flaming torch, and looking down ou the rnelie below, there lay Sneezer, with the throat of the leopard in his jaws, evi- dently much exhausted, but still civing the creature a cruel shake now and then, while Mangrove was endea- vouring to throttle the brute witii bis hare hands. As for the poor pigs, they were all huddled together, squeaking and grunting most melodiously in a corner. 1 held down the light, " Now, Peter, cut his throat, man— cut his throat." And Mangrove, the moment he saw where he was, drew his knife across the leopard's weasand, and killed him nn the spot. The glorious dog, the very in- stant he had a dead antagonist in his fangs, let go his hold, and, makinga jump with all his remaining strength, for he was bleeding much, and terribly torn, I caught him by the nape of the neck, and, on my attempt to lift him on the outside, down I went, dog and all, amongst the pigs, and upon the bloody carcass, out of which mess 1 was gathered by the Cura and the bystanders, in a very beautiful condition, for, what between the filth of the sty and the blood of the leopard, and so forth, I was not altogether a fit subject for a side box at the opera. T. H. J. A FRENCHMAN'S FAREWELL TO ENGLAND.— Adieu, then, England, adieu ! I take leave of your beautiful meadows and well- cultivated fields, of your magnificent trees, your gardens, your parks, your smooth and highly valued roads, winding' so gracefully and pic- turesquely, as if in search of every beautiful site. Adieu! this is my summer farewell I But, adieu, also, to the dim light of the winter day ! to the towns un- cheered by a single ray of the sun ! Adieu to fogs, damps, and sadness! Adieu to the finished but cold politeness, to the sumptuous assemblages, where luxury and magnificence shine unrivalled, but where ease and pleasure make way for etiquette. Good bye to you, also, plain John Bull, with whom I have not had much acquaintance, hut still sufficient to convince me that your good aud solid qualities more than counterbalance your defects I Adieu; continue to keep your healthy, full round face, although your nose be rather red; keep also your sturdy habits, your long pipe, and the dear pot of beer ! You form on « ofthe happiest portions of the English community ! And now, adieu to the whole English natio constant actb doo. L ! When the celebrated father Bourdelau, who has some- times been called the French Tillotson, was to preach once, on a Good Friday, and the proper officer came to attend him to church, his servant said thai he was in his study, and that, if he pleased, he might go up to him. In going up stairs he heard the sound of a violin, and, as the door stood a little a- jar, he saw, Bourdelau stripped into his cassock, played a good brisk tune, and dancing to it about his study. He was extremely concerned, for he esteemed that great man highly, and though! he must be run distracted. However, at last he ventured / to rap gently at the door. The father immediately laid down his violin, hurried on his gown, came to him, and, with a composed and pleasant look, said, " Oil, sir, is it you ? 1 hope 1 have not made you stay ! 1 am quite ready to attend you." The poor man, as they were going down, could not help mentioning his surprise at what he had heard and seen. Bourdelau smiled, and said, " Indeed you might well be a little surprised, if you don't know any thing ol my way on these occasions; but the whole of the matter was this— in thinking over the subject of the day, I found my spirits too much depressed, to speak as I ought to do so had recourse to my usual method of music and a little motion. It had its effect; I am quite in proper temper, aud go now with pleasure to what I should have gone to with pain." ^ dieu to their industry, energy, and ity, exercised without noise, bustle, or nd words. Adieu to their humanity to their generosity in never combating with left foe. Adieu to ( heir regularity in performing their religion duties, to their mod. sty and decency of conduct in private and public, which, in itself, places them above every other people. Here, at least ilie observer may follow them with the eye every where, into their towns, their villages, into every place which they inhabit, without ever feeling that disgust which, in so many other countries, almost obliterates the ad- miration and interest that would be otherwise felt. DEAN SWIFT.— George Faulkner, the Dublin printer, once called on Dean Swift ou his return from London, dressed in a rich coat of silk brocade and gold lace, and seeming not a little proud of the adorning of his person, the Dean determined to humble him. When he entered the room, and saluted the Dean with all the respectful familiarity of an old acquaintance, the Dean affected not to know him ; in vain did he declare himself as George Faulkner, the Dublin printer; the Dean de- clared him an impostor, and at last abruptly bade him begone. Faulkner, perceiving the error he had com- mitted, instantly retired home, arid resuming his usual dress, again went to the Dean, when he was very cor- dially received. " Ah, George," said he, " I am glad to see you, for here has been an impudent coxcomb, bedizzened in silk and gold lace, who wauled to pass himself off for you, but 1 soon sent the feljow about his business; for 1 know you to be always a plain dressed and honest man, just as you now appear before me." THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES, AND PEOPLE'S POLICE GAZETTE- 1 ANGELINA I OR, THE MYSTERY OF ST. MARK'S ABBEY. AN ORIGINAL ROMANCE. AUTHOR OF ELA, THE OUTCAST « IPSY OF ROSEMARY OELL, & C. ( Continued from our last.) ; OR, THE CHAPTER XVIII. IT < vas several minutes before Angelina could suf- ficiently recover herself lo put her energies into ac- tion ; but when she did so, her first impulse was to hasten to Ihe door und lo listen if she heard anybo ly stirring beyond it. She trembled violently as she did so; and Wnen she remembered the ruffian she bud lately Poking into her chamber, and whose foul Purpose she could not, for a moment, doubt: her ter- ror » » so great that she could with difficulty support Ifier trembling limbs. - She stood by the door by which the villain Rufus had ( lately departed, but not a sound met her ears, save the hollow gusts of wind, as they swept along the gallery upon which it opened, or the dismal screech of the owl who had taken up his abode in some of the chambers and the old turrets of that part of the edifice. She • paused, uncertain how to act— what strange conster- nation or thoughtlessness could have occasioned Rufus to have left the door open, she was at loss to imagine.— He must, certainly, have been frightened; and expecting to find her wrapt in the arms of sleep, had taken her for some apparition, which his guilty conscience conjured up. She returned to the other Toom, and took up the lamp, and then looked out into the gallery with fearful eyes, but not a single object did they encounter; and a perfect stillness seemed to reign throughout the building. Angelina cast her eyes upon the lock of the door, and found that Rufus had left ihe key ( to which was attached a large bunch ® f others), in it. In a moment a thought struck her— Siiigh4 not these keys open her way - o liberty, and should she miss so favourable an opportunity to escape from her enemies ? Perhaps, too, Rufus himself had taken compassion upon her, and only hit upon this scheme to facilitate her escape, without appearing to be a wilful parly to it. She returned lo the other room, and reflected for a few minutes upon the sin- gularity of the circumstance, and what step would be the best fur her to '< ake. What use would it be for her to attempt to m^ se (, er escape from a place, with Ihe intricacies o, which stte was entirely unacquainted, and when she was ignorant of which way to pursue, and to ' rtlmt apartments Ihe keys would be of any use P ® eF,"< des, even if she should succeed in getting out of Lie tower, what would then become of her— would she loot- be in the same hopeless condition which she was in alt present— ignorant as she was of what part of the ' country she was in, without a farthing of money in her possession, and at so great a distance, ( as she had un- derstood from the statement of Bridget,) from her liome ? Then the idea of threading 1 lie gloomy cham- bers and passages of lhat dreary edifice at lhat hour of the night, made her shudder with horror, especially after Ihe lale which Bridget had told her, anil the alarming and mysterious noises which she had herself heard since she had been an inmate of Ihe place, anil she almost resolved to give up all thoughts of attempt- ing to leave the tower in despair. But should she miss an opportunity which might never occur lo her again, to escape from a fate which she could notlook upon without Ihe utmost horror? Might fihe not, if she could succeed in getting out of Ihe tower, « nlist the sympathies of some persons ill her favour, who might not only protect her from the power of ihe Baron de Morton, but also assist her to return to her friends— Yes, any hazard was preferable to remain- ing here to encounter the vengeance of that guilty nobleman, who, she could no longer doubt, ( though she • could not imagine why,) had a design upon her life.— Nay, had not his own conduct and words assured her « f Ihe truth of this imagination ? And then the conduct of the ruffian Rufus, and his appearance in her cham- ber at - such a nocturnal moment, all convinced her that she had no hope of mercy in remaining where she was, and that even if she failed in her attempt, she could not foe in any worse condition than she was at present. " Yes, I will make the attempt," she exclaimed; Almighty Father, who kuowest how unjustly I am persecuted, to your care and protection I commit my- self." As she thus spoke, she felt still more assured and prepared to put her design into execution. First of all she locked the outward door, to prevent her being suddenly surprised; and having ascertained that all remained quiet, she prepared for her depaiture. The ciothes which she had worn when she was brought to the tower, had, fortunately, not been taken away from lier, and she proceeded hastily to envelope herself in her cloak and bonnet; and then once more briefly so- liciting the protection of Providence, with a trembling step, she took up the lamp and prepared to leave the n on). Again she paused ere she ventured to unlock the door, but all remaining rilent, she turned Ihe key, and the next moment she found herself in the gallery. The door, on the instant she had emerged from the room, was blown to with a loud bang, which made the place re- ecbo again, and caused the utmost terror in Ibe breast of our heroine, as 6he was afraid it would arouse the inmates of the tower, and that her flight would be speedily intercepted. The noise, however, Vsving died away, all was again still as the grave, aud Angelina gained more courage. She now bethought herself which way she should proceed, and held the lamp above her head, but its feeble rays only per- mitted her to penetrate for a very short distance. She, however, determined to take the same way by which she had been brought into the tower, and accordingly she cautiously passed along the gallery, often timidly looking back, as Ihe murmuring of the wind made her imagine that- it was the voices of persons in pursuit. She had just reached the end of Ihe gallery, and was about lo descend the'stairs when she started w ith ter- ror, as Bite thought she heard the closing of a door at the other end ; and looking towards it, she was almost positive that she saw ilie glimmering of a light, but in an instant it was gone, and all remained the same as before. Apprehensive that her flight was discovered, she leant against the bannisters, uncertain how to act, but hearing no further noise, she somewhat regained her composure, and proceeded to descend the stairs. First, however, she looked down to be certain that iliere was no one watching her. All vvas safe : so she descended with silent steps, and scarcely dared to breathe, so fearful was she that she might be overheard. She reached ihe hall, which she traversed with ihe same caution, and at length she gained the hall door. First looking fearfully around her, she tried the various keys attached to the bunch, and at last found one which turned in the lock. Her heart throbbed eagerly with hope ; but it was soon banished, for the bolts, which were very heavy, resisted all her efforts to pull them back, and she gave up the attempt in despair. Disappointed, Angelina now stood, uncertain which way to act.— She must return to her prison— all hope of her escape was at an end. She sighed heavily as she thought of this, and was about to re- ascend the stairs, when, looking round, she perceived to the left a low archway, towards which she hastened. The rays emit- ted by her lamp Shelved her ah oaken door, but fearful that It might open into apartments occupied by some of the family, she placed her ear to the key- hole and listened attentively, but all was quite still; and plac- ing her lamp upon the pavement, she tried the dif- ferent keys, and at last found one which opened it. The moment the door flew back, a thick cloud ot dust was blown around her, and it was a second or two before Angelina could perceive anything, bat when she did, she found herself in a small closet, which did not contain any furniture, and seemed as if it had not been used for some time. A door on one side of this closet, which was standing open, shewed to our heroine a dark Staircase ( to the bottom of which the light from the lamp could not pe- netrate. Angelina again paused here, and knew not whether it would be any ise for her to descend these stairs, as she knew not whither ihey might lead ; but after a moment or two's reflection, as she had pro- ceeded so far, and without any obstruction, she thought she might as well search further, as there might still be some chance of her finding an outlet. She had to sfep with caution, for the stairs were very rotten, and several of them had Crumbled avVAy alto- gether. At length she reached the bottom* and a rush of unwholesume air corfed around her, and made her j tremble with cold. She shielded the lamp as well as she could until it had passed away, and then found heiself in a long subterraneous passage, the walls of i which were of stone, bul green with age and damp, and it was evidently older than the other part of the building. Hitherto Angelina had felt more courage than might have been expected, but now when she found herself in that dreary place, and remembered the story which Bridget had told her of Ihe murdered lovers, she could not help feeling a most intense sensation of supersti- tious dread. The termination of the passage she could not see, for ( here were many windings. While she thus stood, sud- denly she heard a loud and confused noise from above, followed by the* openmg and closing of doors. Alarmed beyond description, for she did not doubt but that her flight was discovered, and that the ruffians were in pursuit of her, the agitated maiden fled along the passage with more speed lhan could have been ex- pected iu such a moment of terror, until having pro- ceeded for some distance, she was compelled to pause to lake breath. No sooner had she done so than the voices of men vibrated in her ears, and they had evi- dently entered the closet, and were about lo descend the stairs. " Good God 1" she mentally ottered, " protect me ! All hope of escape is now at an end; and should they find me, what may not their rage tempt ihe wretches lo do ?" " It is very evident, from the hall- door being closed, that she has fled this way," at that moment ejaculated a gruff voice, which Angelina, with horror, recognized directly to he that of Rufus. " The jade cannot es- cape us unless she reaches the iron door, which stands open. Two of you take the passage to the right, and two to Ihe left, and she will be in our power again— that's certain. What a fool I must be to leave the loom- door open!" We will not attempt to describe the terror of our heroine as she heard these words, but wound up to des- peration, she continued to run forward, until suddenly the broad glare from a lamp streamed across her path, followed by a loud shout, and directly afterwards she found herself firmly grasped by the strong hands of a couple of ruffians, whom she immediately knew to have been amongst those who had brought her to the tower. ( To be continued). CONFESSIONS OF A HIGHWAYMAN. Henry Simms was tried and executed for a highway j- obbery in 1745. After conviction, he gave llie fol- lowing account cf his exploits : — " 1 wilt begin," says he, " with my nativity ; I was born in the parish of St. Martin- in- the- Fields, in the County of Middlesex, and should be thirty- one years of age, were 1 lo live till next October; my parents, who were honest people, died when I was an infant, and afler their deaths, I was taken into the care of my grandmother, who lived in St. James's parish, West- minster, who was the wife of a commissioned officer in his late Majesty's land forces, and is still living, anil receives a widow's pension from the Crown. This good old woman, when I was but six years of age, put me to school to one of her own religion, she being a Dissenter, but not approving of his way of leaching, she took me from him, and sent me to an aca- demy in Charles- street, St. James's, where I learnt arithmetic throughout, and some French and Latin, hut frequently playing truant, I often ran into vice, before I was nine years of age, and frequently laid out at nights with other boys as wicked as myself, for which ill- practices my grandmother used to correct me se- verely. The first act I ever committed was before I was ten years old. My grandmother went to pay a visit to a Dissenting minister, at one Mr. Palmer's, a soap- boiler, in Crown- court, St. Ann's, and whilst she was in company with him, I got to the shop till, and took out about twenty shillings in silver, but was delected, and got a severe beating. I frequently used to pick my grandmother's pocket of two or three shillings, which she seldom missed, or, if she did suspect me, or challenge me with it, 1 had al- ways something to say to prove me innocent. By me laying out at nights, I soon got into bad company ; and they led me to the worstofhouses, particularly the " Two- penny Runs," in St. Giles's parish. This company persuaded me to rob my grandmother, and one morn- ing 1 opened a large chest in her house, and took away about seventeen pounds in gold and silver, and my best clothes, all of which I carried to my new companions, and distributed the money very liberally among them, for which they greatly caressed me, made me very drunk, and carried me lo their houses, as they called it, in Church- lane, St. Giles's, where they put me to bed, and as sooo as 1 was asleep, they stript me start naked, leaving me alone, and when 1 awaked in the morning, I found they had left me nothing but rags to cover my nakedness. What to do, I could not tell, for it was impossible for me to go home to my grandmother's; at last I pro- posed lo go to the " Two- penny Run," in Vine- street, to inquire after my companions, but could hear nothing of them. The landlord took compassion on me, and gave ine some victuals, and went to my grandmother's, lo let her know where 1 vvas. The old gentlewoman came crying, ready to break her heart, and after being a littie composed, she asked me what 1 had done with her money, and how I had disposed of my clothes ? I told her several very impudent lies, and seemed very sorrowful for my fault, though I slily laughed ill my sleeve to think 1 had bit the old woman. The landlord was more ingenious than I was, and told her who had brought me thither. The names of my hopeful com- panions were, Wry- neck Jack, George Monk, Nunkey Watson, and several more, all pilfering thieves, and petty pickpockets. None of ihese gentry could be found; so the old gentlewoman took me with her, and caused me to be chained lo the kitchen grate with an iron chain and a padlock she had bought for that purpose ; in which confinement 1 was kept lor three months, nil day long, but was indulged with a bed in the night time, and a strict watch kept over me. On my promise of amendment, I was released, and more new clothes were bought me, which, when I go, I went to my old haunts, and this being the time of Totteuham- court fair, I went there, and saw my com- panions tossing up lor money. They soon recollected me, and were glad to see me, so 1 went with ihem to a music- booth, where they made me almost drunk with gin, and began to talk their flash language, which I did not then understand. Night coming on, and I wanting to go to sleep, they took me toa brick- kiln in Tottenham- court Road, and the kiln being burning, they broiled some meat, and made me eat part of it. We had not been long here, when several women came to us, who were all very ragged ; they brought with them a keg of gin, which they had stolen, and began to sing their flash songs, and 1 vvas as merry as the best of them. The women were very fond of me, and being drunk I began to swear, which pleased theirt wonderfully. One of them took a silk handkerchief out of her pocket, and taking off my stock, in which vvas a silver buckle, she put the liaudkerthiet about thy neck; anil then un- buckled my shoes, and unbuckled the knees Of my breeches, and tied my garters below knee, telling me that was the way the Bowman boys wore them. As soon as my Companions found me asleep, they stripped me of all my clothes, tthd everything else, ex- cept toy shirt, and on their taking leave, threw some water over me, for when I awaked, I found myself sadly wet, and almost perished with cold. I began to cry and lament sadly, when two or three women came up, and offered me their service to go and find out the people that robocd me, and carried me to a place where they sift cinders, and got two old shoes, which I put on, anil was going with them towards Tottenham- court fair ; but in the Long field I saw my grandmother's man cOme ruiining after me, upon some intelligence the old woman received where t was. On his seiz. ngme the woman rail away. Being now at home with my grandmother, I behaved pretty well for some time, and she proposed to put me apprentice to a breeches maker, one of her own reli- gion, and a very honest man. To liim I was bound, but being lazy, wicked, and unruly, he beat me heartily, so I ran away from htm in less than three weeks. I went home to my grs. ntlmothSrs and taking the op- portunity bf her being abroad, 1 took all my bes clothes, went to Rag Fair, and spent the money among my old companions. My grandmother, finding I was not to be reclaimed, removed from her own house to Lady St— nil— pe's, where she Continued - While her ladyship Was In the country ; dud thither I went, and because I could not directly gain admittance, 1 broke a great m. iny win- dows, anil the old v^ oman was obliged at last to let me in. There lived a silversmith next, door, and one day, whilst Ihe workmen were gone to dinner, I got over the wall, and stole a silver candlestick, aiid a stand for a tea- kettle, which I carried off, with all the lady's housekeeper's linen, and went directly to Marylebone Park, to a barn, which me anil my companions har- boured in, where I found Jack Sutton, Jack Skinner, and two or three women, and to them I produced my booty, at the sight of which they seemed greatly re- joiced, and told me they were sure 1 Should turn out a very promising young fellow. We sold the things in Peter- street, Soho, and had nine pounds for ihe plate And linen. The plate being missed, my grandmother and several neighbours w ere afler me, and 1 was seized in Paradise- row, Tyburn- road, anil brought home, and threatened Willi justice. I confessed where the plate and linen was sold, but the woman was gone, and could not be heard of, so they never were recovered. This affair was made up by means of Lady St— nil— pe, but my grandmother for ever after excluded me that house ; so 1 went to my old companions at Marylebone, and con- cluded Ihe same night to rob any one we met; which we did, ami picked up some small sums. About a fortnight after, I vvas taken up on sus- picion of being concerned with them in divers robberies, and was committed to Newgate; but ihere being no proof against me, I was acquitted at the sessions. My grandmother was so kind as to get me out of gaol, aud take me home, where I continued not long before 1 broke out again, and got acquainted with Henry Cham- berlain, who used to write incendiary letters ; and he persuaded me to write a threatening letter to Mr. Davv- son, tin the Mint, in the Tower, which 1 did, and de- manded five guineas. F" or this piece of villany, I was appiehended, and sent to the Tower gaol; but disguising my hand, and saying a man gave me a shHing to carry the letter, After three days confinement, and saveral examinations before the governor of the Tovyer, t. was discharged. My next acquaintance was with two brothers, named Toon, and one James Malioney and we committed se- veral robberies together ; they were taken up and trans- ported, burl had the good luck to escape; though tlleii fate gave ine some uneasiness, and 1 thought of relin quishing all vice, and told my grandmother my inten- tion ; and she promised me if I would keep my word, she would love me more tenderly than ever; and on my promising faithfully to do so, she took me home again, and 1 tarried with her about four months, and did nothing but divert myself at duck- hunting, and bear- baiting, where I got acquainted with thieves froi all quarters of the town, who soon perverted me from my good resolutions. Being one day washing in Marylebone basin, I per- ceived an elderly genlleman walking through ihe park, and by a bye place, called the Bear Garden, and fol- lowing him, met with Jack Robinson Joe S e, and we agreed lo rob him, and accordingly knocked him down, and took his silver watch, a gold ring, a gold- headed cane, a silver snuff- box, his hat and wig, about forty shillings in silver, tied him, and llung him into a ditch, left him, then made off, and divided the booty between us. Abundance of my companions being either trans- posed or hanged, 1 began lo think of another course of life, and being recommended to the late Mr. Blunt, he hired me as a postillion. This business made me ac- quainted with almost all the roads in England, so that no one was ever better qualified for a highwayman than my- self, and having a good share of impudence, 1 thought the highway would make me a gentleman at once ; how- ever, I deferred this dangerous undertaking for some time. After Mr. Bliint's death, I served Mr. Tatloe, will) succeeded him; I was hired as postillion to a noble duke, where I remained but a short time. 1 now got again into very bad company about Covent Garden, and turned a great gamester, and was every night at my lord's, unless when 1 had no money, and then turned out lo seek my fortune in the streets. At the gaming- table, 1 had good luck, and always appearing genteel, the gamblers' gave me the name of Young Gentleman Harry. There was one Henry Moy- tben, whom they called Old Gentleman Harry, used the same table, and as he taught me to cheat at play, they insisted I should answer to his name. My father ( as he was called) not long after our acquaintance, met with a very unlucky accident at a public- house in Russell- street, Covent- garden, where, having some words about a law- suit, with one Dick Hodges, a distiller, Hodges vvas so unkind as to run a knife into his guts, so that lie was sent out of the world without so much as having time to say his prayers. I vvas very sorry to hear the news of my father's fatal catastrophe, bul it vvas no more lhan I expected, for our acquaintance used lo tell us, that neither of us would die in our beds, and now, to my sorrow, I find their words too true. Amongst my many female acquaintances, on whom I spent my money and time, Will M— rg m's wife was iny grealest favourite, though I got myself into some trouble on her account, for Will indicted me at the Old Bailey for a robbery, but the court finding there vvas no evidence to convict me of the charge, I was ac- quitted and discharged from Newgate. To do justice to the woman, I shall lake the whole blame on myself; 1 persuaded her to take the things, aud Ihey were as much her property as her pretended husband's. Before this, I and Tom Casey had committed several robberies in the county of Kent, in 1713. The first robbery we committed vvas attacking a genlleman on Shooter's Hill, and robbing him of seventeen pounds. About a week afterwards, I myself attacked a lady in a chariot upon Blackheath, and took from her a purse with gold and silver in it, and two diamond rings. 1 vvas pursued by some butchers as far as Lewisham Water, who there dismounted me, tore off the cape of my coat, and were going to knock me down, but 1 re- covering myself, presented my two pistols at them, on which they drew back, so that I made the best of my way along the road that leads to New- cross turnpike, leaving > ny horse, which was an exceeding good geld- ing behind me. I secreted myself in a Corn- field till ^ ifter midnight, and then came to town. The purse and % oney I hid in a tree, and in a day or two, fetched my store, and regaled plentifully till all was gone. About this time, the gaming- table having very much reduced me, I got a horse, and went into the country, and at Towcester, in Northamptonshire, I put up at the White Horse. I spied an ancient gentleman in the kitchen, who had hired a chaise and two horses to bring him to London ; a Welshman being to ride one of the horses, I thought this was a good chance, and asked the ostler who the man was ? He said he had a commis- sion in the army, but was a poor mean- spirited old rogue, fur he had not given him a single farthing. Thought I, then there will be the more for me, for I was determined to tune him, and made myself ready to follow him as soon as he set forward from the inn. 1 was ejtcCedirtly well dressed, having on a green velvet coat, a gold Iriced hat and waistcoat, and every thing answerable, so that I could not be' Suspected for a high- wayman. I observed that Ihe old Cuff had a brace of pistols in the chaise, and therefore determined to throw myself upon liim, as soon as I could find an oppor- tunity, and one soon presented itself, for the Welshman dismounting to fasten part of the harness which had given way, I rode up in a great hurry, and the old man called to me, and said, Youlig man, if you ride so fast, you will soorr tide yolir estate away." I told him, " t hoped not, for it was pfefty extensive, and lay in several counties;" and Immediately jumped from iny horse into Ihe chaise, secured Ihe pistols, and told the gentleman if he spoke one word, I would shoot him. I searched his pockets, and found seven shillings, which I did not take, and in the seat of tiie chaise I found a pair of scarlet bags, which 1 mounted on my horse, and rode aivay furiously across the country into Bedford- shire. At a proper plate, 1 examined the bags, and found some thread, stockings, three clean Holland shirts, two white waistcoats, and one hundred and two guineas in gold. I vvas quite overjoyed, and after se- curing the money, I threw the bags and linen into a field, thinking they might be of use to some poor coun- tryman, Who might have ifjore need of them than me. I was determined to reach London that night, and though my horse was greatly fatigued, yet lie held out, and performed the journey very well. I went that night to my lord's, and began to flash my cole, and played high, Some who knew me, said " Hall, who have you touched to- night?" I replied, " I had been lo receive a quarter's rent. Three days after this robbery, as I vvaR going out of fown on pleasure, with some of my companions, just by Hyde Park turnpike, tile Welshman, who drove the gentleman 1 had robbed, called out to me and said,—" Master, you never re membered your poor Welshman." 1 instantly remem- bered the man's face, and beckoned him to ma, and gave him a cfown, so we parted, and he wished me a good journey; however, I did not linich like him, and so persuaded my companions to turn back, without telling them the reasons I had for so doing. This robbery being advertised in all the papers, and a particular description given of my person, I shipped myself on board a privateer, but soon ran away from the ship. I afterwards enlisted for a soldier, and now began to keep low company, having no money, and but few clothes. I used to be constantly in brothels, and live on what I could get from poor creatures. At last, for almost beating a woman's eye out, I was sent to the New Prison, from whence 1 broke out, but was soon taken, and carried to Covent Garden round- house, and from thence before the late Colonel De Veil, where I made an information for robberies against several per- sons, particularly Robert Scott, Roger Allen, William Bailey. The latter was laken up and tried for robbing Abraham Dirknell, servant to the Duke of Bolton, of several goods, which were stolen from a stable belong- ing to his grace. I humbly ask pardon of God Al- mighty, and the poor injured men, for they were all innocent of this fact, and I committed the robbery ; and I really perjured myself on Bailey's trial, though he had the good fortune lo be acquitted. In iny information before Sir Thomas de Veil, I ac- cused William Cavenagh, Richard Swift, and William the horse, because he knew whose property ii but on my presenting a pistol, l got away, bus nos without the loss of my hat and wig, and I was ob. iged to leave my horse behind me. I went lo Chelsea, and dined at the Cock- Nest day I went to Mrs. M— rg— n's, at Addlehill, and mad ® her pawn her gown for eight shillings. I then went to Kingston. upon- Thames, and there hired a returned horse to Godalmin, but instead of going thither, I crossed Kingston Bridge, and on Stnaltberry Green I saw a gentleman's servant, who had hung his horse on a gatey while playing with a wench, so I exchanged horses. The next day I robbed the Worcester coach, near Ger- raril's Cross, in Bucks, and from the passengers took about twenty- live shillings. The next robbery was of Mr. Sleep, for which I am to die. That day I robbed seven farmers of about eighteen pounds, and then came to London, and lay at the Greyhound, in Drury Lane. Next day I went out, and dined at Stratford, took a a ride on Epping Forest, robbed Bess Watts of four diamond rings, and from the gentleman who rode in the chaise with her, I took three guineas. On the forest I robbed Captain Bateman, the King's wheelwright of his gold watch, ten guineas, and about twenty shillings in silver. I did not shoot or rob the clergyman who was found dead on Epping Forest. I mention this be- cause many gentlemen have questioned me about it;— I was at that time a close prisoner in Bedford gaol. I intended to go over to Ireland, and setting out for St Albans, I got into company, and drank too much, and seeing Ihe Warrington stage- coach, 1 rode afler it, and robbed the passengers, but being drunk, I rode to Hockliffe, in Bedfordshire, and put up at the Star Inn, and setting down in the kitchen, I fell fast asleep, and vvas taken by some troopers on a hue and cry, for robbing the coach. I was confined close in the house lhat night, and all my money taken from me, but I had got Bess Watts's rings tied in the knot of my neckcloth, and ihe troopers not finding them, I that night swallowed them in the skin of a duck's leg, which I well rubbed with butter. These lings I afterwards gave to Irish Peg, lo dispose of, while I was confined ill Bedford gaol, but she was taken up and tried at Gloucester, and punished there, and Bess Waits bad her rings again. The night l was seized, I attempted to kill one of the troopers who guarded me, as he was endeavouring to take the seal of Captain Bateman's watch out of the fire, which I had purposely thrown in to make him stoop, but my pistol missing fire, the man saved his life. They then tied my hands, aud carried me before Jnstico Nodes, of Luton, in Bedfordshire, who committed me; and in Bedford gaol I was collared with an iron collar, and had shears on my legs, so that I could hardly stir, though, if the habeas corpus had not come to remove me to Newgate, I should have slipped through your fingers, for a female acquaintance could have released me in a day or two. , Being brought to Newgate, I was tried at the Old Bailey, and justly convicted for robbing Mr. Sleep. All those I have offended, I hope will forgive me, and God Almighty receive my soul 1" The information he made relating to his being hired to shoot his Majesty, had not the least foundation, and his only view in it vvas to prolong his life. Simms, whilst under sentence, behaved very undaunt- edly, especially before lie was certain of death. He quarrelled with Mary Allen, another convict, aud bfeat her very much, but when the warrant came down, he was more orderly, and seemed greally shocked. GROWTH & PREPARATION OF THE TEA PLANT. This plant, which we scarcely need tell our readers, is the staple article of Chinese commerce, is grown only in a particular district, called by the natives " the tea- country," lying between the 30ih and 33rd degrees of north latitude. The more northern part of Ch.' na would be too cold, and further south the heat would he too great. There are, however a few small planta- tions in the neighbourhood of Canton. The Chinese give to the plant the name of tcha or tha. It is pro- pagated by them from seeds which are deposited in rows four or five feet asunder; and so uncertain is their vegetation, even in their native climate, that it is found necessary to sow as many as seven or eight seeds IGibbs, with breaking and entering the dwelling- j in every hole, The ground between each row is always house of Mr. Nathan Smith, of Ihe Borough of South- wark, but they were all innorent of lhat accusation, and it was at tiie instigation of the thief- takers lhat I swore against them. 1 was concerned in this robbery, but they were not; it was committed by me, Tom Casey, Will Bullimore. and Jack England, all Irishmen. When the before- mentioned persons were acquitted at Croydon, of the robbery at Mr. Smith's house, I vvas removed to Newgate, and tried ar the Old Bailey, on my own information, for robbing a barber's shop, and being . convicted, vvas ordered for transportation, and soon after was put on board a ship in the river. Ou board ihe ship, there vvas one Alexander Connell, an I rish boy, and he, with some others of the transports, proposed lo seize the captain and ship's company at Covves, in Ihe Isle of Wight, but they watched us so strictly that we had no opportunity. The boatswain and I had consulted to get away, but all to no purpose ; so, after a tedious passage, we arrived at Anapolis, in Maryland, where 1 was sold for twelve guineas, but 1 gave my master the slip, and never slept one night in ihe country. Jit happened luckily that a horse on which my new master rode, was tied lo the gate, about a mile from file dwelling- house, as an old negro informed me; and iny master and the captain having been drinking pretty heartily, I took an opportunity of getting away in the night while they were asleep ; aud by the assistance of the old negro, got the horse, and for the bribe of a guinea which 1 had concealed, he directed me to the sea- side, where I arrived, having rode thirty miles in less than four hours, through roads which were some- times almost impassable. When I saw the ocean about two miles distant, I dismounted, threw the horse's bridle and saddle away, and turned him loose in the woods. I ihen walked to the sea- side, and hailed the Two Sisters, James Abercrombie, master, who shipped me that night, and I was to have six guineas for the run home. Ill our passage, we were taken by a privateer, called the Ciiacer, belonging to Bayonne, in France, and were carried into Oporto. 1 ran away from the' ship, and secreted myself some days in the town, but vvas discovered, and pressed on board the King's Fisher, where I behaved so well, that ill a short time I " was made midshipman, but longing to see my na- tive country, 1 found means to get away from the ship, and walked to Lisbon, where I went on board the Hanover Packet boat, and in less than twelve days arrived at Falmouth. Here I tarried upwards of a month with Jemmy Field, an old acquaintance, and spent what money I brought from Portugal ill an idle manner: . When all I had was squandered away in a riotous manner, 1 shipped myself on boaid a coaster which traded to Bristol; Ihe captain and I quarrelled, and I had like to have knocked him overboard. When we came to Bristol, he would not pay me my wages, but threatened to send me to Newgate in that city, on account of some money that I borrowed of him; so I thought it the best to escape in a whole skin, with about eight shillings in my pocket; and having hired a bridle and saddle, I stole a horse out of a field, and rode away Willi him. ... The first robbery I committed was near Cane, where I stopped a post- chaise, and took from a gentleman ami laily a silver watch, and four pounds seven shil- lings in money. The next robbery was near Hunger- ford, where l stopped the Bath coach, and took from a lady a diamond solitaire, three diamond rings, and some small ( rifle of money, and from the other passengers about five guineas. I stopped a coach on the same road about three hours afterwards, and robbed an old gentleman of a silver tankard, tied in a handkerchief, and about forty shillings. When l came to London, I saw the horse advertised which I had stole from Bristol, and putting up at the Swan, Whitechapel, I was afraid to go for my horse, for fear I should be stopt. And going to St. James's, lo see some of my acquaintance, 1 stole a horse from a boy in Rider- street, and rode away, but was stopped at Tyburn turnpike, and the toll- man knocked me off kept free from weeds, and the plants are not allowed to attain a higher growth than admits of ihe leaves bo- ing conveniently gathered. The first crop of leave-; is not gathered until the third year after sowing; and when the trees are six or seven years old, tile produce becomes so inferior that they are removed to make room for a fresh succession. The flowers are while, and somewhat resemble the wild- rose of our hedges; these flowers are succeeded by soft green berries or pods, containing cacll from one to three white s'eeds. the plant will grow- in either low or elevated situa- tions, but always thrives best and furnishes leaves of the finest quality, when produced in light stony ground. The leaves arc gathered from one to four limes during the year, according to the age of the trees. Most cornitfortly there are three periods of ga- thering: the first commences about the middle of April, the second at Midsummer, and the last is accomplished during August and September. The leaves that are earliest gathered are of the most delicate colour, and most aromatic flavor, with the least portion of either fibre or bitterness. Leaves of the second gathering are of a dull green colour, and have less valuable qua- lities than the former; While those which are last col- lected are of a dark green and possesses an inferior value. The quality is further influenced by the age of ihe wood on which ihe leaves are borne, and by' the' degree of exposure to which they have been accus » tomed ; leaves from young wood, and lliose most ex- posed, being always the best. The leaves as soon as gathered, are put into wide shallow baskets and placed in Ihe air or wind, or sunshine, during some hours. They are then placed on a flat cast- iron pan, over a stove heated with charcoal, from a half to three quar* ters of a pound of leaves being operated on at one time. These leaves are stirred quickly about with a kind of brush, and are then as quickly swept off ihe pan into baskets. The next process is that of rolling, which is effected by carefully rubbing them between men's hands ; after which they are again put, in larger quantities, ou the pan, and subjected anew to heat, but at this time toa lower degree than at first, and just suf- ficient to dry them effectually without the risk of scorching. This effected, the tea is placed on a table and carefully picked over, every unsightly or imper- fectly dried leaf that is detected, being removed from the rest, in order that the sample may present a more even and a better appearance when offered for sale. The names by which some of the principal sorts of tea are known in China, are taken from the places in which they are produced, while others are distinguished ac- cording to the periods of their gathering, the manner employed in curing, or other extrinsic circumstances. It is a commonly- received opinion that the distinctive Colour of green tea is imparted to it by sheets of cop- per, upon which it is dried. For this belief there is not, however, the smallest foundation in fact, since copper is never used for the purpose. Repeated ex- periments have been made to discover, by an unerring test, whether the leaves of green tea contain any im- pregnation of copper, but in no case has any trace of Ihis inetal been dete ted. The Chinese- do not U6e their tea till it is about a year old, considering that it is too actively narcotic when new, that, in consumption in England, of course must be considerably older. Not long since, in Liverpool, as a couple were going to be married, and hail proceeded as far as the church- yard gate, the gentleman stopped his fair com- rade with the following unexpected address: " Mary, during our courtship ! have told yon most of my mind, but not all my mind. When we are married I shall insist upon three things." What are they P" anted the astonished lady. " In Ihe first place," says he, " I shall lie alone ; secondly, I shall eatalone ; and lastly, I shall find fault when there is no occasion: can you submit to these conditions?" " O yes, Sir, very easily," ske replied: " for if you lie alone, / shall not: if you eat alone, l shall eat first; and as lo your hniting fault with- out occasion, that, I think, may be prevented, for I » ill take care that you never shall mtttf oeeasien." they were married and we wish them much keppim>$*,- THE PENNY SUNDAY TIMES, AND PEOPLE'S POLICE GAZETTE. ^ Fragments for ttjc © urious. CARRIER PIGEONS.— Carriers differ from all other pi- geons in one particular, which is, that notwithstanding all the attention that can he bestowed upon them, they never become attached to their keeper. Carriers, when not ( breeding, ought frequently to be allowed to fly at large, otherwise they lose much of their vigour and handsome iappearance. When kept closely confined, they not uufrr- < piently become so weak that they can scarcely rear their young. Though carriers are endowed in a higher degree " than any other pigeons with the peculiar faculty of finding J, heir way home from a great distance, yet, in order to de- Telope it fully, it is necessary that they should be trained. A pair of carriers were allowed to fly at will till they were • three months old, and were occasionally urged upon the wing, in order to their becoming thoroughly acquainted • with the locality of their home. When about four months • old, they were taken to Harrow, a distance of 10 miles, and being there set at liberty, they arrived at home exactly ten minutes afterwards. On being taken out a second time, they performed the distance in fourteen minutes and a half. They were next taken to Godstone, in Surrey, a distance of 19 miles, which they performed in eighteen minutes. They were afterwards sent to Haverfordwest, in Wales, a distance of 265 miles, where they were con- fined for three weeks ; on being set at liberty, they found rheir way home in something less than eight hours. The following fact, illustrative of the peculiar instinct of the carriers, we have received from an unquestionable autho- rity. A few years ago, several pairs of carriers were sent to Antwerp, where they were kept confined two years, , and on the expiration of that time, being liberated early in the morning, they arrived at their old home, in Hert- fordshire, on the evening of the same day. BALLAD. Dear maid of my soul, how fondly I'll cherish That, sweet token of love— i ur last parting kiss :— And whene'er I prove false, may I that moment perish, And be banished for ever from the realms of bliss '. With extatic rapture I gazed on thy face, As thy beauteous form to my bosom I press'd, And vowed from my heart, nought but death should erase Those Elysian feelings I that moment possessed. Tho' years have passed on, since front thee forced to sever, And dare the rude waves of the wide rolling sea, In battle and storm thy fair image as ever, Been the angel and safeguard that watched over me. How oft when my slumbers have rudely been broken By the boatswain's shrill whistle, the sails to unfurl— At the mast- head, when blue lightning illumined the ocean For thy welfare I've breathed forth a prayer, my dear girl. By slanderous tales should they try to deceive me, To all their assertions I'll turn a deaf ear ; No thought ' gainst thy fair form shall enter, believe me, A heart so devoted to thee,— so sincere 1 If Providence wills it, as homeward we steer, Our vessel be wreck'd, and eugulphed in the deep,— Whilst to my memory you let fall the salt tear, Remember, in Heaven! again we shall meet I J. TUNKS. ANECDOTE OF WASHINGTON.— A person oflawlesshabils and reckless character had frequently entered upon the grounds near Mount Vernon, and shot ducks and other game. More than once he had been warned to desist, and not to return. It was his custom to cross the Poto- mac in a canoe, and ascend the creeks to some obscure place, where he could he concealed from observation, One day, hearing the discharge of a musket, Washington mounted his horse, and rode in the direction of the sound. The intruder discovered his approach, and had just time to gain the canoe and push it from the shore, when Washington emerged from the bushes at a distance of a few yards. The man raised his gun, cocked it, pointed it at him, and took deliberate aim ; but, with- out a moment's hesitation, he rode into the water, seized the prow of the canoe, drew it to land, disarmed his antagonist, and inflicted onhim a chastisement which he never again chose to run the hazard of encountering.— Goon HUMOUR.— Good humour is the clear blue sky of the soul, on which every star of talent will shine more clearly, and the sun of genius encounter no vapours in his passage.—' Tis the most exquisite beauty of aline face ; a redeeming grace in a homely one. It is like the Cfjcatm. " Nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice." SHAKSPEHE. The prolonged engagement of Charles Kean and Power has continued to draw very crowded audiences to the Haymarket, and the Macbeth of the former gen- tleman seems to have made no inconsiderable impres- sion upon the public, though, as we have before re- marked, it is not to our taste. We shall not forget to notice the new five act play. Olympus in Confusion, at the English Opera House, is a miserable failure. There is not a single point in it, and Ihe wretched at- tempts at wit are beneath contempt. The most vulgar, flash songs have been chosen to parodise, such for in- stance, as that disgusting concoction called," Nix my Dolly, Pals Fake away," and altogether it is a sad farrago of trash. Much pains have been bestowed in its getting up. Honner is the man for novelty ; vfe have seen another new drama here, under the title of Our Old House at Home, written by the author of The Wreck of Twenty Years, and we certainly must say that it is one of the best domestic dramas we have ever witnessed. The last successful pieces of The Ruby Ring and The Wager have been played with increased success on alternate nights. The Strand Theatre has opened with a small but efficient company, and seems likely to meet with its full share ot public patronage. Jane of the Hatchet, with its one hundred female war- riors, has proved a rare " card" for the Surrey, the house being crammed every night of its representation, Ihe moment the doors are open. Haines's nautical drama of The Charming Polly has been revived with all its original success.' The operatic and dramatic com- pany at the. Victoria have taken well, and we hope to see this commodious theatre restored to all its original prosperity, which can only he. achieved by the most spirited management, and by the production of pieces of merit. A new drama called The Murderer of the Kroon; or, the Drover of Pest, written by Mr. Bruton, the well- known author of so many excellent songs, has been produced at the Pavilion. It met with a very good reception, and seemed to please the audience ex- ceedingly, being a genuine melo- draum in every sense of the word, and exhibiting many powerful and effec- tive scenes, situations, and incidents. The Albert Sa- loon is now fairly established in public favour, and is nightly thronged in every part. Mr. Meredith and his stud of horses has been added to the strength of the company; and new vaudevilles and ballets, got up with much taste and judgment, rapidly succeed each other. MARY GRAHAM. BY JOHN CUMMING, A. M. " Oh heaven! is't possible a young maid's wits Should be as mortal as an old man's life ?". SHAKSI'ERE. MARV GRAHAM was the innocent cause and Ihe inno- cent victim of a foul deed ignobly expiated. The per- petrator satisfied the laws of his country by rendering a life for a life: " And happy in my mind w as he that died, For many deaths liath the survivor suffered." Reason " the guiding spark" has fled ; and haunted by a distempered imagination, she roams abroad in ab- ject poverty, thejeer ofthe wicked and the thoughtless, the pity of the kind hearted and humane. 1 have only met her once, but the impression produced by that single interview can never be effaced from my mind " while memory holds her seat." Finding that my business would admit of such an arrangement, I started, a few summers ago, on a long meditated ramble through the more romantic districts of Scotland. I visited every scene which was remarkable either for ils natural beauty or its historic associations. On the field of Culloden I have pondered on Ihe " hair- breadth ' scapes" of the unfortunate Charles, and ad- mired the generous attachment of his devoted though mistaken follow ers. At midnight I have climbed tiie lofty Nevis, " whose mountain top is pinnacled in icy green in the landscape, harmonizing with every colour, j cold sublimity," and I have bewailed the atrocities of mellowing the glories of the bright, and softening the hue of the dark. " IDA." BALLAD.— BV ANDREW JAMES M'DOUAI. L, Gein of beauty's fairest daughters, Matchless still on earth or sea; Reigning Naiad of the waters, Welcome Ida unto thee. See the very billows dancing, Welcome thee on Father Thames ; While the stars of heav'n glancing, Onwards strew thy path with gems. Gem of all my heart holds rarest ' Mong earth's prized and joyous throng Virtue's purest— sweetest— fairest Queen of poetry and song. While our bark is" forward hounding O'er the stream it bravely stems, Echo's voice with joy resounding, Welcomes Ida on the Thames. Regent's Park, July 12th, 1840. FLATTERY has a delicate frame— a loose silken dress of ever- varying hues— aud a soft, silent, insinuating gaii which it is not easy to imitate or describe. Her florid countenance wears a perpetual smile, and her melting voice steals upon the car, and often thrills, with agree- able sensations, every fibre of the heart. She paints and perfumes with wonderful art, aud purveys delicacies for the great with unwearied assiduity; so that she carries her pallet and colours, her incense box and honey- pot, into all companies; hut these things being cautiously wrapt in a fold of her garment, they can only be seen by a penetrating and practised observer. A more wily and dangerous enchantress does not exist ou the face of the earth ; aud yet she is the very life and soul of the fashion- able world : for, when she is absent, the whole region is filled with vapours and complaints. I arw told that she is a special favourite at court, and lhat the soothing whis per of her voice never fails to give a fine flow of spirits lo a bevy of beauties, orabaml of gallants. Nor are her visits nnfrequent iu the walks of literature, where au- thors, who ought to know better, may be seen snuffing up her incense, and devouring her dainty morsels, with no small satisfaction.— You might be pleased with some spe- cimens of her eloquence, but the difficulty of doing justice to them, or the clmnce of losing their ethereal spirit, in- duces me to decline any attempt of this kind. Indeed, it is not necessary for her always to speak ; her obsequi- ous and bewitching manner, and her flattering attentions and assiduities, are such as cannot be easily resisted. Nay, more— when she is even absent, her influence may be perceived by the pictures she has drawn, the perfumes she has scattered, and the luscious sweets she has pre- pared and left behind her. All these Vanity takes care to preserve as long as they will keep, and sits at ease to gaze and regale upon them. WOMAN. ( FOR THE TENNY SUNDAY TIMES.) Go, search through ocean, earth, and sky, To charm thy heart, thine ear, thine eye :— Go, and confess thou can'st not trace A beauty such as woman's face. Fair is the rose that spreads its hue To summer skies serene and bine ; But fairer far the tints that speak Of innocence on woman's cheek. Bright is the star that serves to guide The wanderer to his own fire- side ; But higher are the beams that lie In lovely woman's sun- bright eye. Sweet is the woodland's even song, That floats the echoing glens among ; But sweeter notes thy heart rejoice, In listening to a woman's voice. Dear to the bloCsom is the dew, That can its fading bloom renew; But dearer far shall lovers sip The honied sweets from woman's lip. Go, dig the earth,— go, plough the seas For wealth, which soon shall cease to please :— Go, find that nothing can impart A treasure such as woman's heart. nristol, Joly, 1840. W. P. Glencoe on the spot where the crimson torrent flowed. While sailing on the Leven, poor Mary Stuart's suffer- ings would perforce intrude, nnd the heroic ardour, the romantic chivalry of the noble Douglas made me but Ihe more deeply iament his fate. Within the regal balls of Holyrood I have gazed on all that art could do in perpetuating the rememberance of our Scottish rrton- archs, and my fancy as conjured up " the song, the revel, and the dance," which pervaded the court in " the days of other years." But why expatiate upon Ihese topics, familiar as they must be to all who have perused the writings of our northern enchanter? Rather let me proceed with my tale. I had taken up my residence at Dunkeld for the purpose of enjoying a few days' angling on the Tay, and was returning to the inn one evening, when my attention was arrested by hearing an old Scottish ballad warbled forthwith exquisite pathos. There was a plain- tive wildness in the tones which bespoke a heart but ill at ease, and I unconsciously pressed forward till I slood in the presence of the songstress. She was beau- tiful. I do not intend to attempt a description of her person, or her features, knowing that I should be able to convey but a faint idea of the original, and shall leave the reader to fill up the portrait in imagination. Her dress, certainly somewhat fantastic, was arranged with great neatness, and her external appearance did not, in the slightest degree, indicate her internal mn jady. There was, indeed, a wildness in her eve— a vacant wandering in her gaze, which, at times, betrayed the absence of reason, but she was free from those unequivocal peculiarities which generally denote the maniac. While I conversed with her, and spoke calmly and reasoned sensibly, save when she attempted to re- late her own sufferings. Then her whole frame became convulsed, ($ nd she spoke so incoherently, that her meaning was more readily ascertained from her gestures and her loolts than her words. I contrived to divert her from this subject, and, ere 1 had left her, she was com- paratively calm. The sad fate of one so beautiful, so young, for she did not then appear more than twenty of course interested me deeply; and, on my return to the village, I instituted some inquiries regarding her, The answers 1 obtained, and ihe information derived from her own recital, have supplied me with the follow- ing particulars ofher short but eventful life. Mary Graham was the only daughter, indeed the only child, of parents who moved in a respectable sphere, and who w ere remarkable for their rigid piety. Were it not" to consider it too curiously to consider it thus," I should probably be more correct if I said " a rigid observance of religious ordinances;" for in Scotland the one is frequently suffered to usurp the place of the other, and many contrive , by outward" semblance, to obtain credit for inward feeling. She was beloved by Donald Rose, and she returned his passion with the ardent fervour of a woman's first and only love. He was, in all respects, her equal, and there was not alass in the parish who did not set her cap at Donald. Yet there was not one who envied Mary because she was his choice. She was so good, se kind, and soclevei, that everybody rejoiced in the prospect ofher union with the man of her heart; and, to crown her happiness, the parents of both parties smiled upon their love. Donald could obtain a farm in Ihe neighbourhood, and tltey meantime lived in the indulgence of those fond en- dearments which can be better felt than described, About this time a Mr. Wilson became a neighbour of old Graham's. There was little wonder that Mary's beauty and address should attract his attention ; and, in a short time, he made her proposals of marriage. They were received as might have been expected. She thanked him for his kind opinion, she was proud of his partiality, but Iter heart and hand were plighted to another. Like a true man of the world ; he instantly went to her father, and representing the state of his affairs, soon convinced the old man that he was a much more eligible son- in- law than Donald Rose. A few evenings after, Donald was sitting as usual conversing with Mary in her father's house, when Mr. Wilson entered, and the subject was mentioned for the first time in hid tosjem ® . Tfe » old m » n, addressing himself to Donald said, " I've been thinking, my lad, that ye're owre young to marry. Ye're no sae steady as a man should be wha taks charge o' a family. I would like to see how ye come on for a few years afore I would suffer my bairn to leave her father's roof for yours. Now, Mr. Wilson's a douce man and a man o' substance, and Mary's mither and mysel think it best for a parties that she should accept his offer, and that ye should be your ain master again. We'll aye be glad to see you though, and to hear o* your welfare." A hectic flush passed over Donald's cheek— for a few moments he sat motionless; but at length he rose and said, " Mary Graham, is it by your desire that this is spoken ? Say ay, and, miserable though it maks ine, I relinquish my claim at once ; for if I have lost your love, what's a' besides f Say no, and nae earthly power shall separate us."—" Can ye ask me sic a question, Donald ? Hear me, father : your ain tongue betrothed me to this lad; in the presence of an all- seeing Heaven ye declared me his, and in the presense of lhat Heaven I now call upon you to keep your word. It's no lo me ye forfeit it, but to ane wha will require an account. The first lesson ye taught me w as to respcct the truth, and no to tell a falsehood even in sport. I hae tended ye frae child hood, an' the best proof that 1 have been a dutiful daughter is this— though austere to ithers, ye never said to me, ' Mary, lhat was wrang.' Still would I tend you, still watch your sick bed, day and night, nor e'er repine; but when ye would mak' traffic o' your daughter's heart, when you would drive her to a mer- cenary prostitution ( for it is a prostitution o' the mind and waur than that o' Ihe body), her soul sickens at the revolting perjury— she maun claim what is due to liersel' and her character, and protest against sic unna- tural barbarity. O mither, ye hae loved yersel\ and how would ye hae liked had your cruel parents torn ye frae the man a' your heart, and gi'en ye to a stranger ? But ae word mair. Ye may tear me frae my Donald, but I never, never will be aniiher's. I here, before Heaven an' these witnesses, declare mysel' this lad's wife.''—" Tak' her frae him," said her father, and Mr. Wilson rose to obey the order.—" Never," exclaimed Donald, " she has placed liersel' under my protection, seeing that her parents are unequal to the task, and sooner than suffer her to quit my side, my heart's blood stains your floor. Ye've driven me to despair, but I still ken whar to bestow my Mary,"— On leaving the cottage together, Mary turned round, and with a tone of mingled anguish and reproach, exclaimed, " Walter Graham, ye are henceforth a childless man." Donald conveyed her to the residence of his parents, by whom every ell'ort was made to reconcile old Gra- ham to the match— but in vain. He could think of no- thing but the worldly advantages to be expected from a union with Mr. Wilson, and accused Mary of dis- obedience and ingratitude. This charge stung her to the heart, but she repined not: " Alas! our affections are not at our command. We cannot beslow ihein on an object, and Ihen recall them at pleasure. We're fickle enow as it is, an' why should we mak' oursels inair sae ?" Ungrateful she was not, for no bad feeling could find a place in her pure bosoms and, spite of their unnatural treatment, she still inquired for her parents with truly filial solicitude, and never did she lay her head upon her pillow without commending them to the care of Heaven. One would have thought lhat ti « ie would soften Walter Graham's heart, and that the declining health of his daughter would induce hiin lo secure her happiness by withdrawing his opposition ; but no : gold was his only object, and he cared not if it were purchased by his daughter's misery. One Sunday morning, about this time, Donald had sauntered alone into a neighbouring wood. There he accidentally met Mr. Wilson for the first time since their interview at Walter Graham's, and intended to pass without ihe usual salutations; but lie was pre- vented. Wilson tauntingly inquired how Mary was, and insinuated that few discreet maidens would leave a father's roof to live with a gay young man. " Breathe not a word, sir, either against her virtue or my honour, or we may baith repent it. If she has left lier father's house, ye weel ken why, and I have yet to learn that my parents have done wrang in shelterin' a lassie whose only crime was keeping her faith to tiieir son. Gude mornin', sir." He would have pursued his walk, but Wilson, determined to fasten a quarrel on him, used still more offensive language. Love and honour both incited Donald to retaliation ; and, ere he left the spot, Wilson lay stretched lifeless on the ground. Un- knowing wbilher he went, or what he did, Ihe hapless youth proceeded directly to the church. The service had already commenced and lie tooklhis seatbeside Mary. But he could not join in the worship as he was wont to do :— he was restless and perturbed, and his altered demeanour attracted the notice of all who sat near him. In the evening, Wilson's body was found, and it will excite little surprise that Donald's conduct in church, and the previous rivalship between liim and the de- ceased at once rendered him an object of suspicion. He was apprehended, and instantly avowed himself the murderer. On his trial, at the ensuing assizes, he still persisted in asserting his guilt, spite of the advice of Ins counsel and the court. " Why, my lords, should I add falsehood to my list of crimes? I here stand be- fore you— alas! that it should be so— and I can safely say that, till that fatal day, I never wronged the living being my Creator formed. Nor was this crime pre- meditated. I entertained not the slightest enmity to wards the deceased, but he heaped insult upon insult, and aspersed the fame of her who is dearer to me than life. 1 then lost all command over my feelings, and they hurried me to madness— to murder. Think not that I urge this in extenuation of my crime. No wait for judgment—' An eye for an eye— a tooth for a tooth— a life for a life.' By ail earthly tribunal, my doom is fixed— inevitable, but I look for mercy from the Judge above. 1 only feel for my Mary; and were I assured of her future comfort I would leave the world without a sigh."— He was, of course, found guilty in terms of his own confession, and the presidio judge pronounced the awful sentence of the law. He was a venerable man, and the the tears which that day bedewed his cheek, did not disgrace his ermine. But who can describe poor Mary's sufferings P She refused to be separated from her lover. She shared his cell— she ministered to his wants, and unceasingly up braided herself as the author of his misery. She ac companiedhim to the scaffold with firm step. She joined in the devotions of the day with calmness and fervency ; but when the fatal signal dropped, she uttered a frantic shriek, and sunk motionless into Ihe arms of the chap- lain. Animation was speedily restored, but her senses had fled for ever ! GALLANT TOM I OR, THE PERILS OF A SAILOR ASHORE AND AFLOAT. AN ORIGINAL NAUTICAL ROMANCE. ( Continued from our last.) " My Ellen— my dearest— my pretty Ellen, look up and smile upon me!" exclaimed the gallant sailor, as he pressed still closer tn his bosom the form of his lover, and imprinted kisses the most impassioned upon her lips; " it is Tom, your own faithful Tom, who has been as true to you as the needle to the pole. Poor girl, her feelings have overpowered her; she does not hear me— she is prettier than ever— even now she looks like a sleeping angel, or a moonbeam upon the ocean— I— I could look mv senses away iu aaziug upon her. Ellen dear, dear Ellen, speak to me !" But lillen still remained unconscious of all around, and with difficulty her mother persuaded Tom to resign her to her care, but nothing could induce him to leave the room until she was recovered. A few minutes served to revive her, and opening her eyes, and looking vacantly into the countenance of her mother, she said— . " Oh, mother, 1 have had such a sweet dream ; too de- lightful indeed to be realised. Methuuglit. that Tom had returned to me, and assured me of his constancy, aud that " " My dearest lass it was no dream," exclaimed her lover, rushing forward and once more enfolding her in his arms ; " your Tom is here to assure you of his constancy, and kiss bis reconciliation upon your lips." " Ah! then, you have not deceived me, Tom," ejacu- lated the damsel, while her countenance beamed with love and transport; " you are still the same true aud faithful Tom that you professed to be?" " Still the same, Ellen," returned Tom, " oh, how could you doubt me ? How could you ever imagine that I could be the villain to deceive you ? That I could suffer another to supplant you in my heart? This, this was not like my Ellen. Oil, my dear girl, nothing could ever have induced me to suspect your constancy; no, never would I have done you the injustice to suppose that, after the many vows you have pledged lo me, you could prove untrue !— Oh, Ellen, did you hut know my feelings— could you but read my heart, as I can yours in your pretty eyes, that twinkle upon me with such lustre, you would see how loudly, liovv sincerely, how devotedly my heart is attached to you, and yon alone ! Though many miles have sepa rated us, still have you always been present to my thoughts; nothing could erase you from my memory, lo which the difference of station occupied by Rosiua, had caused her at first to evince. A happy evening was passed at the Old Commodore, among Mat, his wife, Ellen, and their two guesls, the house being closed against, public visitors, and Bositia par- ticularly keeping out of sight of anyone that knew her fearful that the knowledge of her being in the neighbour- hood might reach the ears of those, she had at present some cause to dread. The heavy care which had formerly pressed so heavy upon the heart of Ellen, and clad her features in an aspect of glooms, had entirely disappeared, and happy in the confidence of her possessing the love of Tom, she had not a thought besides which could cause her the least uneasiness. As for Tom and Rosina, they seemed sufficiently happy in seeing the good effects this reconciliation had upon Ellen, and Mat and his dame did all they possibly could to contribute to the pleasure of those around them. It was late when Tom and Rosina took their departure, and Mat and his family were about to prepare themselves to retire to rest, when they were suddenly surprised by hearing a loud knocking at the outer door. " Who can that be, at such a time as this ?" said Mat,, as he went to the window up stairs, and looked out. " Who is it knocks ?" he demanded. " A traveller, who is weary, and footsore, and claims the indulgence of a night's rest and shelter," was the an- swer. " Humph '." said Mat, " it's a pity you could not come before, master; we are just going to retire, and I don't know what to say to you.' I do not recollect your voice, who, and what are you ?" " A stranger to you, I rather think, and doubtless to most persons iu this neighbourhood uow," answered the man. Mat stretched his head out of the window as far as he could, but it was so dark that he was unable to make out more ( hail that it was a tall figure, apparently enveloped in a mantle, which stood in the door- way. Mat hesitated and looked at his wife and daughter, who did not encou- rage him by tbe expression of their couutenances, to comply with the applicant's wishes. " For goodness sake do not keep me standing here in suspense, or I shall faint with exhaustion at your door," said tjie man ; " I assure vou you have no cause to fear." As for fear, master," returned Mat, " you mustu't come to an old seamen to talk about that. Well, I'll e'en chance letting you in, and if you play me false, only mind that you are not taken iu, that's all." Having thus spoken. Mat took the lamp in his band, and grasping a stout stick with the other, descended the stairs, and unbolted the door. ( To be continued.) THF. LATE MR. EMERY.— Dining one day in a mixed convivial party, surrounded by a set of merry wights, the French language and the pronunciation of that tongue became a subject of conversation. " Well! I'll bet any man in the room anew hat," exclaimed Emery, " and the wager shall be decided by the present companv, that I both speak, pronounce, and understand the French lan- guage better than English." So extraordinary a declara- tion and challenge upon a subject, from the rustic Emery, greatly astonished the whole party. At length, however, one of them, not cariitgso much for the value of the bet, perhaps, as lie did for the amusement, which he thought would be afforded by putting Emery to the test, answered, " IVell, Emery, /'// bet that you can do neither!"— Emery, putting on a countenance grave as a judge, re- plied with avidity, " Adone; ' tis a bet." Then getting up, he addressed himself to an old friend, who sat oppo- site, and who, lie was aware, knew but very little of the French language. Will you, mv dear sir, do me the favour of just saying good nig/ it'in French ?"— The gen- tleman, with a pronunciation scarcely intelligible, replied, " ton jour." Upoo which Emery observed, " you are wrong, my dear fellow, that is good day; good night, in French, is boa soir,"( which he pronounced very correctly). Then turning round to the coinpanv, he said, " there, gentlemen, I think you must undoubtedly admit that I have won my. wager; for. from what vou have all just now heard, you must, I am sure, be most perfectly satis- fied that 1 certainly do both speak, pronounce, y\ v\ A under- stand, the French language better than English." The justness of Emery's claim was most fully admitted on all sides, when, to the great amusement of the company, it was explained to them, that the name of the gentleman, whom he had addressed on the subject of the French lan- guage, was ENGLISH. Emery, suffice it to sav, got consi- derable credit for the joke. the dreary watch— in the raging storm— in the battle heat, my Ellen was never absent from my mind, and it was her dear imaue which nerved me on to deeds of va- lour, and to smile at danger. When sleep closed my eyelids, than would delightful visions take me hack to this loved spot, and imagination would give me a repetition of all my former happiness— and yet, my Ellen to imagine that 1 could ever prove untrue to her, and—-" " Oh, Tom," interrupted Ellen, while her eyes beamed with all that ardent affection which her heart prompted " reproach me not, although too well do I feel that I dc serve it. 1 should not have doubted you— I ought to have known my Tom better— butsome strange infatuation took possession of my senses— and ihen that dreadful tale— slid the female with whom I saw you, all conspired to make me think you perfidious,— although my heart w. as almost broken in admitting what I thought to be the fatal truth." " Ah ! did you then see us together ?" asked Tom ea- gerly. ' I saw you with a female in the gardens ofSirRichard Overtoil," answered Ellen, " nay, more, I overheard you breathe to her words of the utmost ' tenderness and love ; I saw you press your lips to her's— judge then, Tom, whether your Ellen had not sufficient cause to imbibe sus- picion ?" " You said you heard all this," said Tom, " and yet the female was not recognised by you ?" " Her back was towards me, so that I did not see her features," Ellen replied ; " oh, Tom, how shall I describe my feelings at that time ? I shudder even now when I recollect them— a dreadful change had in a moment come over my heart, and— yes, Tom, well may you start— at lhat moment I could, had I had the means, have become a murderess ! I could have plunged a knife into the heart of my supposed rival, and have exulted at the deed !" Tom did indeed shudder when he reflected upon the dreadful, the awful catastrophe which might have taken place; and a thousand times did he feel grateful to think that the time had arrived when he was allowed to explain himself, and which would be the means of preventing cir- cumstances he could not contemplate without the deepest horror. Again he pressed his lover still more closely to his bosom, and imprinted kisses of gratitude and delight upon her lips. / " Ellen," said he " you had indeed plenty of occasion to hoist the yellow flag ; you had, apparently, sufficient cause for suspicion ; but had you overheard the whole of the conversation that - passed between us, you would have ascertained that that female was my newly- dispovered sister!" " Your sister ?" " Aye, my dearest lass," returned Tom, " my own fond sister, whom, next, to my Ellen, 1 love with all the ardour that can possibly he felt'; that sister who is prepared to love the destined bride of her brother with the strength and sincerity which only such nolile minds as her's is ca- pable of feeling !" " Her name ?" anxiously gasped forth Ihe maiden. " She is here to answer for herself," said Tom, throw- ing open the parlour door; " behold!" " Rosiua Burlington !" ejaculated Ellen, with mute as- tonishment, as the latter bounded into the room, and ad- vanced to embrace lier, with looks of the utmost extacy and attachment. " Yes, it is Rosiua," answered she, " the cause of all your late anguish, but whose constant study shall be to repay you by her future love and attention ; " regarding as she does, with admiration and pleasure the fidelity of your love for a dear brother from whom she has been long se- parated." As Rosina said this, she offered to embrace Ellen, but the latter shrunk back timidly, when she remembered the difference ol their stations; which Rosina perceiving, en- couraged her by a look of sweetness which was perfeetlyir- resistable, and the next moment the two beauteous females, like twin graces, were locked iu a fervent embrace ! " Hurrah I" cried Tom, in a transport of delight, and tears of joy rushing to his eyes; " vard- arm to yard- arm ! Oh, shiver me, if this job won't be the death of me through downright pleasure. What a happy fellow I shall be to he sure, to have to divide my affections between two such dear creatures. But, eh— what's the meaning of that cloud passing over your lovely countenance, Ellen ?— You sigh, too— come, come, belay that, lass— the storm has all passed over and there is no cause for sorrow now." " Alas, Tom !" said Ellen, " your good fortune will be my only cause for misery; you will now be rich, aud move in that station to which your birth eotitles you, while the humble Ellen " " Elleu," interrupted Tom, hastily, " think you that any change of circumstances can alter my sentiments to- wards yon ? By Heaven ! if riches were to be purchased only by the forfeiture of my Ellen, f would sooner be con- demned to poverty and the meanest hovel. No, no, my dearest girl, you alone, it is that forms the principal charm of my life, and without you, all else would become com- pletely valueless to me !" The manner in which Tom spoke this, convinced Ellen of his sincerity, and her bosom, which had lately been the abodeof such poignant misery, became light and buoy ant. Rosina, whose affable manners, never failed to en gage the admiration of the most insensible person, did all that she possibly could to convince her of her esteem, and in time succeeded in dissipating that air of restraint. CHARADE. 1. I am a word of ten letters.— My 1, 10, 3, 4,2,6,7— is an amphibious animal; my 7, 8, 6— names a metal ; my 4, 8, 6, 10— a delicious fruit; my 4, 2, 6— is a small instrument of great use ; my 9, 8, 6, 2, 7, 10, 5, 6— is a number in arithmetic ; my 4, 8, 6, 7— is a mea- sure ; my 7, 3, 10, 9, 7— is a river in Nottingham ; and my 7, 3, 2, 5— is very common in the country ; my 3, 10, 1,7— is what every person is obliged to take; my 6, 10, 1, 7— may often be seen on trees ; my 7, 3, 8, 4, 2— is often brought to table ; my 4, 3, 8, 6, 7— may be seen at any periodical shop; my 1, 8, 6— is what every person is guilty of ; my 4. 8, 6— is a very useful little article to ladies; my 1,6, 8, 4,2— is a well- known bird ; my 1, 7, 2, 5, 4— is what hills are very liable to be ; my I, 4, 8, 3, 8, 7— may be seen at any wine vaults; my 1,7,3, 8, 4— is what most people do before ( hey go into the water; my 1, 7, 2,4— may often be seen before the doors of houses: njy 4, 2, 10,3— is a. title; my 7, 5, 3, 3, 8. 10,3— is the " name of a well- known dog; my 1,7,3, 2, 5, 7— is very common in London; my 3, 10, 6, 7— is what most people have to pay : my 1,8, 3— is a short word, but very much used ; my 4, 3, 8, 10, 1, 7— may often be seen at church; my 1, 7,10, 3, 6, 2— names a celebrated author; my 4,10, 4, 4, 2, 3— is a well- known spice; my I, 4, 8, 6, 2— is a part of the human body ; my 8, 3, 8, 1— names a plant; and my whole names a celebrated piece of water near London. CHARLES JAME6 C. ANSWER TO A CHARADE IN NO. 17.' Sir, your letters nine when all combined, Methioks an answer I can find. For EXPLOSION is the word, no doubt, So see your charade is soon found out. C. BLANCH. REBUS. Ye rebus unravelling bards, First find out a good. game at cards; And next, without much hesitation, Discover a grand appellation ; What Ihe gay Bacchanalians push round, Will my last, I assure ye expound. These three joined together, you'll see - What's useful to both you and me. J. YARNOLD. CONUNDRUMS. 1.— To what, town is a horse apparently going to when three or four lengths ahead of the other horses in a race ? 2.— Which is the lightest city in the world ? 3.— When is a man not a man ? 4.— Supposing a man was necessitated to chew wood, what noted place of resort would he name ? A. A. L. ) IMPROMPTU. Oh, did we lake for Heaven above But half the pains that we Incessant take for woman's love, What angels we should be ! T. PREST. ANSWER TO RIDDLE IN NO. 16. A Saw's very useful, I very well see, Tho' I own it is not very useful to me ; 1 And as on degenerate youth I look round, I think many an " Old Saw " has fall'n to the giound And " See Saw " when children are playing I trow, As often is quoted as " gee- up " " gee- wo ;" And a carpenter's shop would flourish but queer, IF a Saw, ' mong its garniture did not appear. And Bridges, we all know abound in this land— I'll begin " near the Tower," and go up the Strand; But I need not recount all their names unto you. For I think there are nine, e'en from London to Kew. And a fiddle— ah! whence would its harmonies come. WERE it not for the Bridge ? Why— its strings would be mum. And tho' Worth of the dead we sometimes record, The Worth of the living we seldom reward ; SAWBRIDGEWORTH is the name of the place, thus made clear— presume ' tis the place that your heart owns most dear. ANNA, MINSTREL OF THE IIEATH. The following POPULAR WORKS are Now Publishing E. LLOYD, 30, Curtain Road, Slioreditch. by NEW AND HIGHLY INTERESTING WORK. at ONE PENNY, FOURFENCE, with splendid IN Weekly Numbers and Monthly Parts at Foe Engravings, FATHERLESS FANNY; OR. THE MYSTERIOUS ORPHAN! Willi No. 1, is presented, THREE SUPERB ENCRAVINCS. GRATIS II Part 2 is now ready. E LA, THE OUTCAST; OR, THE Tale of the most thrilling Interest. In Penny Weekly Numbers and Fourpenny Monthly Parts. Steel and Wood Engravings. London: Printed and Published by E. LLOYD, 30 Curtain Road, Shoreditch ; and at 44, Holywell Street, Strand.