that all hope of effectual resistance was at an end. Had he remained, he and his family would probably have been sent prisoners to Paris, and ended their lives in captivity. To avoid such a fate, was certainly very desirable; and the proof that his Highness's conduct was approved of in this Country was shewn in the hospitable reception he and his family met with in this country in general, and particularly from our most gracious Sovereign, and all the branches of the Royal Family. Compassion for the misfortunes of others is a principle implanted in the human breast, although they may be brought on by folly; and this principle has been nobly acted upon in this Country, which has always held out a helping band to all those in want of her assistance.

Secondly, the Stadholders, so far from incroaching upon the liberties of the people, were its protectors, by restraining the powers of the Aristocracy, and being a barrier to the encroachments which the Aristocrats were continually making; which is fully proved in the history of the United Provinces. The Princes of the House of Orange were the zealous defenders of the liberties of their country against the tyranny of Spain, till its independence was acknowledged by the Peace of Munster in 1648; and since that time against the encroachments of France, not only upon the liberties of the Dutch, but of all other States. Of this the Author's Countrymen are fully sensible, by the respect in which they hold the memory of King William. The late Stadholder was no Soldier. His Son Frederick gave every promise of becoming a great General at the time of his death at an early age. His Grandson has begun his military career, under the greatest Generals which this country has produced; and bids fair to become a deserving member of the illustrious House of Orange.

Yours, &c.

SCOTUS.

Mr. URBAN, Surfleet, Dec. 4.
YOUR kind insertion of an anec-

Ydote respecting the humanity of

a British Sailor, now deceased (see Vol. LXXXI. Part ii. page 434), induces me to send you a further extract from the same unpublished

Journal, exhibiting an instance of generous intrepidity, which has been seldom equalled, and, I think, never exceeded. S. ELSDALE. *

Yours, &c.

"On our passage from Lisbon to Virginia in the Sally and Kitty, Cap tain C, we experienced a succession of bad weather. One evening about seven o'clock, I being at the helin heard a voice, apparently ris ing out of the sea, calling me by name. Surprised, I ran to the ship's side, and saw Richard Pallant, youth, in the water going astern. Immediately I called all hands. The Captain, though a man of approved resolution, was quite confounded at the boy's danger: as his friends, who were people of property at Ipswich; had trusted him the voyage, con fiding in C's protection and care. He ran backwards and forwards not knowing what to do, exclaiming that the boy must perish; as the ship drove apace from him before the swell, which was so mountainous that he durst not hoist out the boat.

"As no measures were offered to be taken for the preservation of the boy, though not at this time above a hundred yards from the vessel; I mentioned the possibility of swimming to him with the end of the deep-sea lead line, which would serve to haul him, and the man who swam to him, aboard. The Captain, mad at a proposal which he thought too dan gerous to be attempted, cursed me in a rage, exclaiming, "Who would be mad enough to go? Piqued at his answer, and eager for the boy's safety, I proffered myself to go, and was immediately relieved at the helm by an American beyond comparison the best swimmer on board.

"It was no time to deliberate. I stript in a moment, and clapping the line round my body, plunged from the ship's side into the sea. The line was new and stiff; so that, not drawing close round me, I swam through it; but, catching it as it slipt over my feet, I secured it by putting my head and one arm through the Boose. Ere I had swam far, the line on board getting foul checked me suddenly, and pulled me backwards under water.' I soon recovered myself, and strove to proceed. During this they on board, endeavouring in vain to clear the line, cut some parts that were entangled,

to

to free the rest; and, in their hurry, cutting the wrong part, let about half the coil drop overboard, leaving me adrift with it fast round my neck. Immediately they called to me to return; but, the booming of the waves preventing my understanding them, I thought they were only striving to encourage me, and there fore, shouting cheeringly again to shew my confidence, swam forwards.

"Having, as I guessed, come near the place where the boy was, I looked round; and, not seeing him, was afraid he had gone down; but mounting the next wave, I saw him in the hollow; and shooting down the declivity, hailed him, and found him yet sensible, but just sinking. I gave him my hand, earnestly beseeching him not to grapple my body; and then called out to those on board to haul in, not knowing that the line was cut. On turning round, and facing the ship, my heart sunk within me, to see the distance she was at. As the vessel drove fast before the sea, whilst I was swimming slowly the other way, she was now more than a quarter of a mile from us ; so that, knowing the line could not reach so far, I found I must be adrift.

"All the horrors of my situation rushed on me at once, and I thought death inevitable, but still struggled bard for life. Whilst I was swimming forwards, the rope being kept slanting in the water, I felt not half its weight, but now it incommoded me extremely, when I remained a most stationary, encumbered with the boy. The waves too, which, whilst I breasted and saw the approach of, I easily mounted, now rolling behind us broke deep over our heads, burying us under them with irresistible fury. I strove hard to disengage myself from the line; but, the noose being jammed behind my shoulder, and one hand holding the boy, I could not effect it.

"When the line was cut, they on board strove with all expedition to hoist out the boat; for, though the Captain had hesitated to do it at first, whilst only one was overboard, yet now that another, by a voluntary effort for the boy's preservation, must bave been given up to hopeless destruction, be resolved, at any risk, to attempt to save us. Soon after I was turned towards the ship, I saw

The

them hoisting out the boat; the interval from the cutting of the line to this moment having been spent in clearing her of the lumber with which she was filled. At last she put off, and I had the consolation to see her come round the ship's bow. height of the sea was considered so very dangerous, that, opt of a whole British crew, but three were found who durst venture in the boat; and, in the confusion, they came away with only two oars, and but three thowls for these, and without either rudder or tiller. Under these disadvantages they pulled very slowly against a most mountainous swell, which they were forced to tend with the utmost care and skill, to prevent the boat's being sunk by it.

"Encouraged by the sight of the efforts made for our preservation, I strove with the utmost exertion to keep above water until they came up, and endeavoured what little I could to meet them; when, a sea breaking deeper than ordinary over us, in striking eagerly to raise myself, I broke my hand from the boy's hold; upon which he grasped me round the loins, with my head downwards under his breast. Struck with the dread of instant fate, I struggled at my full exertion to disengage myself; but it was impossible. The fear of death, and almost the present pains of it, rendered his grasp too strong to be broken from. In this trembling mo ment, short as the interval must have been, a throng of ideas rushed with inconceivable rapidity into my mind. Futurity, with its joys and torments strongly contrasted, as 1 shuddered on its very verge, was pictured in its most striking colours to my imagination.

"Finding my struggling ineffectual, I had happily the presence of mind to sink myself, and began to dive downwards, at the very moment when my bosom, bursting with holding my breath, so strongly impelled me to strive for the surface, to end the intolerable torture. My diving had the desired effect; the boy, finding me sinking, let go his hold, and rose to the surface. I rose immediately when disengaged, and drew breath. Another moment's delay had sealed our destruction.

"Struck with horror at this hairbreadth escape, I began to swim singly towards

towards the boat, which now was within two hundred yards of us, when the youth, seeing himself abandoned, piteously cried out to me for God's sake not to leave him. My own preservation by making to the boat, opposed to my almost certain fate if I returned, caused a momentary struggle in my bosom; and a severe one it was; to all appearance the choice of life or death. Compassion, how ever, prevailed. Struck with his inevitable destruction, I returned, and, catching hold of him just sinking, I again gave him my hand, charging him on his life not to grapple me any more, and renewed the arduous struggle to keep us both afloat until the boat came up; for, now utterly exhausted, we rose but at intervals to draw breath.

over.

"Eternal God! how slowly the boat seemed to approach, and how inconceivably long appeared the dreary time of fatigue and terror which we spent in anxiously awaiting it! Every wave now broke over us, and we continued, though with the utmost difficulty, to contend with our fate, till the boat came very near; when a mountainous wave, bursting with impetuous sweep, rolled us Our efforts to regain the light separated our hands, and I again felt myself clasped in the eager grasp of my companion. I had recourse to diving again; but this did not now so readily procure my relcase. Spent and stunned with the shock, he persevered in retaining his hold, till, being able to hold my breath no longer, I drew in a full draught of water. I was still sensible of the excessive pain it seemed as if my entrails were burst by something forced down them.

:

"He now, by some means, quitted me, and we both rose; but my senses wandered, the sky danced to my sight, and I was sinking, when, by God's mercy, the boat being now come up, one of the sailors caught hold of me, just as I was losing, for ever in this life, the sight of day. Another seized the boy, who had suffered less during this last struggle than I had; and we were dragged into the boat, where we lay in her bottom faint and exhausted.

"Our brave preservers exerted their utmost skill to regain the ship. This they with difficulty accomplish

ed, and, getting alongside, she tossed with such violence that a single stroke against the ship would have shattered the boat to pieces. The men, having hooked the tackle to hoist her in, leaped on board; but we, who were scarcely able to stand, must have been crushed to pieces between the boat and the ship, had we attempted it. We were therefore obliged to remain lying in the boat, awaiting the chance of their getting her in, or else of her being stove by the sea, or breaking from the tackle, in which case we yet should have suffered that fate which we had hitherto so providentially escaped. At length the sailors, with some damage, got her on board, and, being taken out of her, we were received with transport by our shipmates, who had despaired of ever seeing us again.

"I had the line now taken off my neck, and found, on measuring it, that I had sustained the weight of seventy yards during the whole time. I was overboard. It was about half an inch round, being a common deepsea lead line. All night I suffered most severely from the water I had swallowed; and observed, with extreme surprize, when I turned into my hammock, that the agitation of my spirits prevented my enjoying that sleep which my fatigue, rendered so necessary; nor could I close an eye during the four hours of my watch below."

"They that go down to the sea in ships, and occupy their business in great waters; these men see the works of the Lord; and his wonders in the deep." Psalm cvii. 23 and 24.

I

Mr. URBAN,

January 11. HAVE for many years been a constant Reader of your valuable Misceliany: I prefer it to any other pe riodical publication, for several reasous, which I will not now state; but chiefly because I often see in its pages the contributions of men, who love their native land, and who revere the institutions, ecclesiastical and civil, which have bestowed so many blessings on this happy country. Your facetious correspondent Aaron Bic kerstaffe belongs to another school: I suspect he is a spy under the disguise of a deserter from the enemy's camp. Were I permitted to state my opinions freely, I would say, that

the

the levity and flippancy of his remarks make it probable that he formerly served in the ranks of a Northern corps, and that he has enlisted in your regiment with the view of seducing his fellow-soldiers from their allegiance. To be very serious: the ridicule, which he has poured out so plentifully upon Fellows of Colleges, is at best indecent. Men who are acquainted with either of our Universities know, that there is no College in either of those venerable Seats of Learning, which cannot boast of men highly respectable for their piety and learning. Your witty Correspondent knows little of Oxford, or Cambridge. If he had ever resided a day in either of those Universities, he must have known, that Fellows of Colleges attend the public prayers in the chapel twice every day, not once a week only, as he would have us believe (last vol. p. 527.) Fellowships are generally the well-earned rewards of distinguished men, who have merited by their learning, or their proficiency in the Mathematics, as well as by the regularity of their lives, the highest honours which the Society, of which they are members, can bestow. Some of the brightest ornaments of the learned professions are, or have been, Fellows of Colleges. I owe it, perhaps, to my own impartiality, to assure you, that I never had the honour of being a Fellow of a College myself; but I have a very high respect for many who are so; because I see among them some of the best and most learned men, of whom this age can boast.

You will oblige me by inserting in your next number this humble attempt to vindicate the character of an order of men, who did not merit the contempt of Aaron Bickerstaff. Yours, &c OSWALD.

P. S. Boys educated at Westminster School never become Fellows of King's College, Cambridge. The Fellows of King's are all from Eton School. See p. 520 of your number for December.

Mr. URBAN,

Jan. 12.

HAT has become of a Picture

stance, with a variation in the inscriptions.

To the enquiring figure, "Madam, be pleased to tell who that may bee

That is so sweetly resting on your knee ; And to resolve me who are yonder three, That comes down from the Castell as

you see,'

The answer:

"The first my Brother is by Father's.
side,

The next by Mother's not to bee denyde;,
The third my owne Sonn is by marriage
And all three Sonnes to this self-same
ryghte,
Knyght.."

I understand the house has changed, hands. If any gentleman has the other picture, I should be glad to, bring the two together, as I think they possess interest enough to be copied, I am greatly inclined to think they deserve it, as this curious circumstance has employed the pencils of two eminent artisis, and offers so interesting a picture of English manners at the period, which, I con clude from the costume, must be Elizabethan, containing views of Huusdon Castle, &c. And at the. same time I shall be much obliged for information where it is likely, or in what family, it might have taken place. I am induced to think it was in the antient family of the Gores of Gelston, by Hunsdon; but this is mere conjecture, and, unless by mere accident, I fear there will be little expectation of coming at the particulars of these pictures; and that, unless it is recorded, enquiry on the spot would be of little or no avail. CIVIS.

SEND you herewith a copy of an antient Will of a Husbandman, who resided at Chertsey in the reign of King Henry the Eighth. If you think it worthy a place in your Miscellany, which often affords amusement to the antiquary, it is much at your service.

A CONSTANT READER. "In the name of God, Amen. The 2d day of August the yere of our Lord God MCCCCCXIX, and in the xith yere of Kyng Henry the vinth,

stance, that was noticed in the Gentleman's Magazine about nineteen years back, at the New Inn, Epping? I have a picture of the same circume

in the countie of Surr', hole of mynde and fresshe of remembrance, thanked be God, howe be it seke and febill of body, make ordeyne this my present Testament

Testament in this man' and forme folow yng: first, I bequeth my soule to God, to our blessed Lady Seynt Mary, and to all the holy Company of Hevyn, and my body to be burid in the Churche yerde of the Monastery of Chertesey. Item, I geve and bequeth to the Mother Churche of Winchest' Ivd. and to the high Auter of my Parisshe Churche of Chertesey vid. Item, I geve and bequeth to Isabell, my eldest doughter, my grettist brasse Pott and my grettyst Caldrone. Item, to her sister Jone, a Ketill and a Caldrone. Item, to Isabell, my best Panne, and her sister the other. Item, to Isabell 2 Oxen, and to her sister the third. Item, to Isabell Keyne, and to her sister III. Item, to my 2 Goddaughters, 2 Calves, and the third to Isabell, my daughter. Item, to the saide Isabell a Bullok, and to her sister annother, and the third I geve and bequeth to the Parisshe Churche of Chertesey. Item, I will that all my v Porkers be sold, and the money bestowed for the welth of my soule. Item, I make and ordeyn Isabell my daughter, my soule executrix of this my last Will, with the oversyght of Harry Warner, to whome also I geve and bequeth fore his labor in this behalf vis. vid. The residue of all my goods not gevyn nor bequethed, I will to be divided between my two Daughters, so that the foresaide Isabell, my eldest daughter, have of ev'ry thyng two parts, and her sister the third, to se my Detts paide, and do for my Soule as they thynk best. Thes berying witness, Richard Alwode, Preste, my Gostly Father, Nicholas Snosmer, with many other more."

Mr. URBAN, Bath, Jan. 5.
AVING already trespassed per-

able pages, I shall, for the present, wave the privilege to which I am entitled, of showing by quotations from pages 18, 19, 20, 21, and 22, of my Introduction to the Examination of the internal Evidence respecting the Antiquity of Rowley's Poems, that Chatterton's claim to the composition of them is not only affected, but clearly inadmissible. Those readers of the Gentleman's Magazine who feel interested in the enquiry, may there find Mr. Warton's objection to the mention of a transaction of the time passed in the present tense, to be futile and erroneous; and Rowley's use of that figure of speech in the remarkable line," Rycharde of Lyons Harte to fyghte is gon," to be perfectly consistent with the practice

of our best antient authors. It will there also appear, that the same critick's reprobation of the compound epithet of the Eve-speckte Wynge,

"The flemed Owlett flapps herr eve

speckte wynge,"

is equally ill-founded; that being a correct and beautiful antient expression, of the true meaning and propriety of which Thomas Chatterton, with all his ingenuity, was completely ignorant.

Were I to trouble you again with quotations from earlier editions of Chaucer, aud from other antient writers, I could fill several of your closely printed columns with instances of the singular verb with the plural termination in en; but I flatter myself that my remarks on Mr. Jamieson's valuable Etymological Dictionary will be more acceptable *. I have thrown down the gauntlet; and every future objection, if advanced “suaviter in modo," let it be as much impregnated with the fortiter in re as it may, will, at the conclusion of my remarks on Mr. Jamieson's Dictionary, obtain attention; but I wish every future critick, who may be disposed to draw his anonymous quill upon me, would take the trouble to peruse the motto to my publication, Aliorum paλara vidimus et correximus; alius nostra videbit et emendabit. Quod æquo animo passuri sumus, modo id cum modestia fiat atque amore veritatis, non obtrectandi studio.". If I commit myself by an infringement of its sentiments in any part of the present controversy, or in my re

on any the Etymologi

cal Dictionary, I ask no favour at the hands of those who may differ from me in opinion. JOHN SHERWEN.

Mr. URBAN,

HENRY