to testify his remorse, he then, being slow of speech, and of a reserved nature, made no answer, but delivered a petition to the undersheriff Mr. Eade, which was read, and was for a respite a few days only, that he might, by a more penitent remorse, and sorrow of conscience, make his peace with God, and reconcile himself. to his deservedly and highly offended father. To this petition the judge condescended so far as to respite his execution to Wednesday the 15th; and afterwards to Tuesday, August the 21st, the week after, being the day fortnight on which he had murdered his brother; when he was conveyed from prison, in a mourning habit, on horseback, many gentlemen attending him, with two divines, Mr. Boreman, and Mr. Higgons, rector of Hinton. When he came to the place of execution, being dismounted from his horse, he stood for more than half an hour, whilst a discourse was made by the former on the heinousness of his crime; to which was added, a prayer; which ended, he went up the ladder, and standing in the midst of it, with great meekness he desired the prayers of those present, and with erected hands and eyes, he beseeched God to forgive him his sins against his father and brother, and praying, in a few words, for a blessing on his distressed father, he closed all with a resignation of his soul into the hands

of his Maker, saying, in a low voice, God's will be done after which words the executioner did his office and his body, after it had hung a good while, being cut down, was put into a coach, and carried to Bersted, where it was interred in the church.

PORTRAIT DES FRANCOIS.

5

TOUS vos goûts sont inconséquens,
Un rien change vos caractères,
Un rien commande à vos penchans,
Vous prenez, pour des feux ardens

Les bleuettes les plus legères.

La nouveauté, son seul attrait,
Vous enflamment jusqu'au délire,
Un rien suffit pour vos séduire,
Et l'enfance est votre portrait.
Qui vous amuse, vous maitrise;
Vous fait-on rire? on a tout fait;
Vous n'avez tous qu'un seul jargon :
Bien frivole, bien incommode;
Si la raison étoit de mode,
Vous aurez tous de la raison.

EXTRAORDINARY

EXTRAORDINARY MARRIAGE.

THE 7th of February 1732, O. S. the Rev. Mr. Taylor, curate of St. Peter's, in the city of Dublin, married, in the said church, a man, whose name was James Thompson, shoemaker, living in Kevan Street in the said city, to a woman named Agnes Roberts, living in the same street. Their ages put together, made 176 years. They both proved their ages to the minister. The groom was aged 90, and the bridegroom 86 years: both widower and widow. She was great great grandmother, having several great grandchildren.

SIR WILLIAM DAWES.

SIR William Dawes, Archbishop of York, was very fond of a pun. His clergy dining with him for the first time after he had lost his lady, he told them, he feared they did not find things in so good order as they used to be in the time of poor Mary; and, looking extremely sorrowful, added, with a deep sigh," She was indeed Mar Pacificum !" A curate, who pretty well kne what she had been, called out, "Ay, my

Lord,

Lord, but she was Mare Mortuum first." Sir William gave him a living of 200l. per annum within two months.

AN EPITAPH:

By the Earl of Dorset.

HERE lies little Lundy *, a yard deep or more,

That never lay quiet or silent before;

For her brain was still working, her tongue was still

prating,

And the pulse of her heart continually beating,

To the utmost extremes of loving and hating;
For her reason and humour were always at strife,
But yet she perform'd all the duties of life;
For she was a true friend, and a pretty good wife.
So indulgent a mother, that no one could say,
Whether Minty or Patty did rule or obey,
For the government chang'd some ten times a day,
At the hour of her birth some lucky star gave her
Wit and beauty enough to have lasted for ever;
But Fortune still frown'd, when nature is kind,
A narrow estate maliciously join'd
To a very great genius and generous mind.
Her body was made of that superfine clay,
Which is apt to be brittle for want of allay;
And when without show of outward decay,
It began by degrees to moulder away,

* She was one of the ladies of the bedchamber; and famous for her secret influence and intrigues,

Her

Her soul then too busy on some foreign affair,
Of its own pretty dwelling took so little care,
That the tenement fell for want of repair.
Far be from hence both the fool and the knave,
But let all who pretend to be witty or brave,
Whether generous friend or amorous slave,
Contribute some tears to water her

grave.

LETTERS,

Bishop of Rochester (Atterbury) to Mr. Prior.

SIR,

Deanery, New Year's Day, 1717-8.

I MAKE you a better present than any man in England receives this day-two Poems*, composed by a friend of mine, with that extraordinary genius and spirit, which attend him equally in whatever he says, does, or writes. I do not ask your approbation of them: deny it if you can, or if you dare. The whole world will be against you; and should you, therefore, be so unfortunate in your judgment, you will, I dare say, be so wise and modest as to conceal it: for though it be a very good character, and what belongs to

VOL. I.

* The Poems of Solomon and Alma.

R

the