for cruelty, which is but necessary and selfdefence and by all which it appears, that this murder was not occasioned by private resentments, but by the principles of Naphthali; and such as were notorious ringleaders in that tribe, and their conventicles.

"It is likewise very observable, that the author of that most scandalous narrative has impiously lied, in asserting, that the bullets did not pierce the Archbishop's body; insinuating thereby that he was hard: whereas by a declaration under the hands of a physician and three surgeons (of which William Borthwick, to whom that author impudently appeals, is one), it is most evident, that the Archbishop's body was pierced by one of those shots: the words of which declaration (still remaining amongst the warrants of the privy council) are these: The first of these wounds, being two or three inches below the right clavicle, between the second and third rib, which was given by a shot, not reaching the capacity of the breast. Captain Castaires likewise had no commission from the Archbishop, but from the privy council; and Baily Carmichaell had no commission from the privy council, but from the Earl of Rothes, Lord High Chancellor, and Sheriff Principal of Fiffe by inheritance.

"The horror that attends this fact, the dreadful events for which it makes way, and the scandal

that

that it raises upon the true Protestant religion, cannot but breed in all just men, a detestation of the principles from whence it flowed, and an abhorrence of those who endeavour to extenuate it with false pretences."

MISS AMBROSE.

THE vice-regal administration of Lord Chesterfield in Ireland, was distinguished in many respects beyond that of any other viceroy who had preceded him. As a judge and patron of learning, his levees were always crowded with men of letters, and the Castle drawing-rooms were enlivened with a constellation of beauties.

Miss Ambrose was universally allowed to be the brightest star in that constellation. She was a Roman Catholic, and descended of one of the oldest families in the kingdom. Her charms and vivacity (which were always tempered with modesty and prudence) furnished his Lordship with many opportunities of complimenting both, with a delicacy peculiar to a nobleman of his refined taste and wit. On the first day of July, the Protestants of Ireland wear orange lilies, in commemoration of the battle of the Boyne, which was fought on that day, and which is a grand gala at court.

On

one

one of these occasions, Miss Ambrose appeared with an orange lily in her bosom, which immediately caught the Viceroy's eye, and called forth the following extemporary lines:

Say, lovely traitor, where's the jest
Of wearing orange on thy breast ;
Where that same breast uncover'd shews
The whiteness* of the rebel rose?

A few days afterwards, a delegation from the ancient town of Drogheda waited on his Lordship with the freedom of their corporation in a gold box. Miss Ambrose happened to be present as the box was of the finest workmanship; she jocosely requested that his Lordship would give it to her. "Madam,” said he, “ you " you have too much of my freedom already." Lord Chesterfield used to say, in allusion to the power of beauty, that she was the only dangerous Papist in Ireland.

Encircled by a crowd of admirers, in the heyday of her bloom, she had the good sense to prefer the hand of a plain worthy baronet (Sir Roger Palmer) to all the wealth and titles that were thrown at her feet. The marriage of this lady was announced in one of the Dublin prints in these words:

*The white rose, the ensign of the house of Hyde.

Dublin,

Dublin, Nov. 14, 1750.

"The celebrated Miss Ambrose of this kingdom, has, to the much-envied happiness of one, and the grief of thousands, abdicated her maiden empire of beauty, and retreated to the temple of Hymen.' Lady Palmer is still alive; and has the second pleasure of seeing herself young again in a numerous train of grandchildren."

AN ATTEMPT TO DRAW THE MEDICAL
CHARACTER OF THE LATE
DR. WARREN.

By the late J. Rr, Esq.

PERHAPS there is not a more arduous task in the varieties of literature, than to designate a proper character to late departed merit: a friend, or an enemy, generally takes the pencil ; by the former it is surcharged, and obscured by the latter. Fortunately, time meliorates the glowing tints, and raises virtue from the shade.

Great characters are rarely viewed in a proper light by their contemporaries: we are too intimate with the human nature of the man, to conceive the soul. If there is the least probability of forming any general idea, it must be by a per

son

CHARACTER OF THE LATE DR. WARREN. 271 son too remote from intimacy, or one incapable of envy.

I have taken up my pen as a poor compliment to the memory of Dr. Warren, leaving the task to his equals to pay due regard to his merit.

The early part of his life came not within the sphere of my observation: I saw him in his meridian-viewed him in his setting sun: when disease had overpowered the corporeal, still saw the preservation of the mental part. Almost, I believe, the last of the inferior medical men, who necessarily met him, the same humanity, the same judgment, and the same dignified humility, which some who thought lightly, or did not think at all, mistook for pride, accompanied him to his last visit. He forgot himself: he thought for his patient: they parted too soon, to meet again.

In reviewing the life of Dr. Warren, we are to consider the man who stood for thirty-eight years on the pinnacle of medical fame. It is commonly observed, that situations make men: here is an indubitable proof of the man being made for his situation. Ignorance could never maintain itself against the studious attack of science.

He had too many great characters to cope with, not to call forth all his exertions. Possessed of intuitive judgment, they admitted