...bid me kindly farewell, as he had done to the rest in my station. So that he had never made me any Invitation, as was falsely represented. Some time after it happened, that meeting with one Richard Arnold, a quondam Playfellow, as though in a great hurry. Dick, said I, whither in such haste? Tommy, said he, will you go with me? I am this day going on board a ship bound for England. You surprise me, said I, it is a place I earnestly long to see, being my father's native country: and both from him and from others I have heard so much Talk about it: Besides, my master is too severe, and never content though I work ever so hard: He may, indeed, make me an excellent workman at long run; but he so refines my body, that I am afraid I shall become all spirit in a little time. Indeed, I had another secret reason: He had a servant, named Joan, who lived at a public house, the Anchor in the piazza's, in Essex Street. While he once drinking there, a drunken fellow called her a w--, foe he said he could prove it. She leaves the place, puts the criminal in the Bishop's court, and then she became our hopeful servant. Her fondness to me was such as I very much disliked so young as I then was: She was so far from a beauty that I rather thought her the contrary. There was not the least temptation except being a cupboard friend, the benefits of which, through her spontaneous desire, she was willing communicate when required. Leaving my mistress, she pretended it was upon my account. She gets another service near my father's house, that she might see me when I came thither: She had her confederates to way-lay me, and reproach me with unkindness to an innocent virgin thy said, to whom I had promised marriage: As I knew that to be a falsity, and all an intrigue; that I was over-satisfied of her silly behaviour in coming to my bed, clinging to my lips, and almost smothering with her early morning kisses. Ads-fish, I had such a surfeit of her affections, that I think my master's severity was not a greater reason to leave the kingdom, in which I might have been utterly ruined, than her nauseous affection. The worst was in leaving my dear parents, but that I hoped would in time be atoned for; in short, I told Arnold that I would accompany him: he promised to meet me on Aston's Quay, wherein he failed. However, as Captain Wharton was going to sail, I took some small provision, got a shilling of my dear mother, gave a farewell kiss to her and my loving father, (without any word or token of what I had in agitation,) and bought two or three penny loaves out of my stock, which, I think, was about seventeen pence, only that my habit was tolerable, having taken my best suit. And so, on the 9th of August, 1710, as we entered the mouth of the bay, a great storm ensued, which obliged the sailors to cast anchor.

I was crept into the hold, where I lay very sick, by which means I was secure from the searches of my indulgent father, one Mr Charles Harris, a tidewaiter, and my master aforesaid. And on the third day from my being on board, the wind and weather permitting, we set forward, and the day following came opposite to the shore, on the eminence of which is a place called Park Gate; here, knowing my poor stock would not half amount to the payment of my passage, I offered my waistcoat as a recompense to the master, who, I was previously told, would order me to be severely striped for presuming to enter into the ship without money. But, indeed, contrary to what was thought, he let two or three others pass free: when I came to make my offering, "Pretty lad," said he, "and is it so poor with you? Why, if I should strip you of your raiment, you might happen to be starved to death, which I know not but might be left at my door; but, child, had my sailors told me you were hid in the ship, upon my word you should have been delivered to your friends when they searched for you. What will your tender parents say, when they come to hear that you are in a strange land, without support? for my own part, I grieve for your condition. Here, young man, take this sixpence with you, endeavour to get employment, and take to good ways; for I have children of my own and that makes me pity you the more, seeing you are but young, and as yet so helpless a creature, for want of friends to assist you, and advise you for the best." Such kind of expressions coming, as I thought at first, from a rough sailor, drew flowing tears from the full sluices of mine eyes; and while I thanked him the more, with promise if ever I met him knowingly, and was of ability, I should more than recompense him for his timely generosity, it melted him also, that he could speak but little more than bidding God bless me, who was able chiefly to support me, as he had wonderfully many other faithful travelling adventurers. He ordered one of the sailors to help me into the boat, as being myself very weak, through the violent tossing of the waves; so then, when I landed, the world seemed to turn round, through the giddiness that possessed my poor brains, and really had almost deprived me of any thought. I had like to have fallen backwards into the water, but was kindly supported by some in the company, till a walk or two occasioned a due circulation, and restored me to my faculties.

And now, setting forwards towards Chester, in company with a jolly fat Englishwoman, and an anchorsmith, whom she seemed particularly fond of, also an Irishwoman, and her seeming husband, we arrived at that famous city in about three or four hours' time. I was agreeably pleased with the piazzas, under which it is pleasant to walk dry in rainy weather; the noble walls, from whence you have an agreeable prospect; the towers; spacious buildings; and the celebrated river Dee, where the famous king Edgar was rowed by eight tributary kings.*

But then no printing press, as I could hear of, was set up in those parts; neither could my fellow-travellers find any encouragement in their way: thus, like distressed strangers, we were all obliged to push forward for London. At first, my companions called me Mr Tommy, by way of eminence; but when they found the title did not agree with my empty pockets, they imposed some of their heavy burdens on my wearied shoulders. This was not very pleasing to my spirit: but their company was more detestable, when one of the men knocked down a goose that was swimming in a sort of lake near the road, and both them and their hussies obliged me to wade deep in the water before I could get it out. This gave me a terrible notion how unfortunate those unhappy people were who fall into bad company; in what a sad dilemma they are oftentimes engaged; and, without God's delivering providence, might be brought to suffer the very rigour of justice, for the vile enormities of other sinful wretches. But these, my now crooked friends, got no good by their hungry theft, for, getting it boiled at a place they thought convenient, it was almost as tough as parchment itself. At night a room was shown to the pretended married couple; near to which was a proper cubiculum, in which were two beds, one for me, and the other was occupied by the black anchorsmith and the aforesaid Anglian dame: who often cried out to me, Master Tommy! Are you awake? Pray talk a little. But I, wanting rest, said nothing; yet could not sleep a while for them; much less, when their bed began to shake so much, as if the house had been tottering by the rattling of a coach upon flinty stones: Which affecting indication made me really suppose (though quite innocent was I then what coition was) that the fellow had cast his plummet into the ocean of his Venus; for his goddess spoke no more that night being ushered to sleep by a succeeding calm, till Aurora with her blushes ushered in the morning sun.

Well, we journeyed still further and further, till we lit of a company of soldiers, travelling on foot, in order to embark for Spain. They had a serjeant with them, and an officer, who was mounted. They attacked my fellow-travellers, the two men, to take on with them; this made me like company the worse: so, delivering my bundle, I endeavoured to make off from them all; but Serjeant Kite, and the thinjawed officer, from his lean Rosinante, ordered one of their young fellows nimbly to overtake me, and persuade me back again, to sup with them that night; but the honest youth, who had been entrapped himself, seeing me very weary, and, after some discourse, pitying my condition, laid open to me a scene of their honesty, if I might give it so good a name. "The officer," said he, "will ride up to you, as I depart on one side; you may seem to agree with what he says, by bidding you live, as his men do, along with them; but rise up early next morning, and make the best of your way from us." What he spake was really truth, and I acted accordingly; however, the officer overtook me next day, towards evening: "I perceive, young man," said he, "you did not like us, by giving us the slip; but you had as well be with us as shun us, for at London you will be pressed, in spite of your teeth, and meet with far more uncourteous usage." "Perhaps, sir," said I, "it may he so; but I pray you, at present, permit me to be of another mind to believe what you say, because I think I was never designed to be a warrior,-but rather one who, by profession, should rather exhibit their glorious actions to future ages." "You'll be forced to it," said he, "whether you will or no;" and so rode from me in a huff, which plainly proved what the young soldier had told me, whose warning I honourably kept within my breast, in perfect gratitude, lest he should in anywise suffer for his goodness to me.

When I reached the ancient town of St. Alban's, so called from the famous protomartyr of England, I took up my lodgings in the first street, at the sign of St. Catherine's Wheel. The good landlord observing me very lame and tired, asked me what I would have got for supper; but I honestly told him I had but twopence in the world, which I should pay him for my lodging, that I must fast, and drink nothing but water, till I got to London; but what was a greater trouble, there were soldiers on the road, who thought to ensnare me, and from whom I had travelled prodigiously hard, to escape their intended destruction. This open plainness touched so much the hearts of the good man and his wife, that they gave me something to eat, which I was unwilling to receive, and for some time-

[Here is, unfortunately, a chasm in the manuscript. When the narrative proceeds, we find him in the employ of Mr Midwinter, and having recently made acquaintance with a Dublin schoolfellow, a son of Sir Richard Levintz.]

When we walked out, I declared the naked truth in every circumstance. He told me his father, Sir Richard Levintz, who was a judge in Ireland, had sent him thither to be educated in St. Paul's school, where he had been for some time; but of late was ordered to travel into the eastern countries; that he was soon to go on board; and that he was provided with several suits of apparel for that purpose. He did not know, he said, as he was going up the Mediterranean, but he might see Jerusalem before he returned; that his ambition was to behold many parts of Asia, if he could; to visit Constantinople, Greece, and Rome, and every noted place. But how fortune would favour him in that respect, he could not tell "however, Tommy," said he, "while I stay in London, I will enjoy your company now and then, and tomorrow I will come and beg an holyday for you." Accordingly, next day, he came to our house, and besought one for me from Madam Midwinter: he was tall, exceedingly beautiful, and had a fine address. So much was she attracted with the youth, that she soon called me from work, and bid me dress myself to go along with him. Never was a friend more endearing; "Tommy," said he, "whilst we were lads at school, you often obliged me at marvels, at which, I remember, you was a great bulker; also with tops, flying kites, and other sports, for which you was the most excellent in St. Mary's parish. Now let us walk out to the fields, towards Islington, Newington, Pancridge, or any other towns, and once more talk of our juvenile actions." Accordingly we did so, and in many pleasant arbours he treated me with wine, cider, ale, and cakes, and indeed whatever I had a mind to. At night, returning, I parted with him at his lodging, near Christ's Hospital; but he had me abroad with him once or twice more, till he began to enter upon his travels; and though I often inquired of him, by my friends, to whom I repeated his goodness to me, I never had the good fortune to see him after.

But so honourable an acquaintance had this good effect, that Mrs. Midwinter, thinking me none of the very commonest sort of my country folks, she began to have a greater respect to me than usual, though (as her circumstances then were not so great as might be wished,) it abated nothing of my hard labour, working many times from five o' clock in the morning till twelve at night, and frequently without food from breakfast time till five or six in the evening, through our hurry with hawkers. My fellow-servants would often give me great uneasiness through their authentic nonsense, and unreasonable contempt, which obliged me, now and then, to have some skirmishes for my quietude, in which, I have heartily thanked Providence that I was enabled, though with strong reluctancy, to bring them at last into good manners.

When I was about twenty years old, I think I had been seven years at the business, from my first apprenticeship in Ireland, when my master, Midwinter, exhibited a glorious spirit of generosity: he called me one night to sup with him; his daughter-in-law, Betty Walters, told me there was a fowl prepared for me. It was not long before that I was severely beaten for sending him a letter to Islington, complaining I was in a poor philosopher's condition, for want of a pair of breeches; and though, upon my writing Dr. Sacheverel's sermon after his suspension, for which I waited from morning till evening to hear him, he had given what I wanted, and a crown-piece beside, because he took near £30 that week by it; yet still, as he had taken it as a great affront, I imagined resentment continued in his breast towards me. "No, indeed, Mr Gent," said Betty, (and that was the first time she gave me the title of Mr,) "my father has quite contrary apprehensions, for he respects you, and I am sure you will find it so." However, I could not help trembling, thinking myself undone if he proved now unkind to me; but entering the room,-"Take a chair, Mr Gent," both master and mistress kindly said. They cut me victuals, which, God knows, in reverence to them, I could hardly taste, and the cup shook in my hand as I pledged their healths, which my master pitying, smiling, said, "I believe, Mr Gent, I know your thoughts; because I have treated you as a servant, perhaps now and then with correction, only to make you better, you may think I shall carry myself with illnature to you for the future. No, my lad, I scorn it; and so does your good mistress, too, whatever you may judge of us both; and, as I am sensible you have been full seven years at the business, you may, from this night, work with whom you please, under my protection; as yet, I believe, you are utterly unprovided, therefore, I desire you would neither want board nor lodging, such as you have had already, whilst I have a house to come to. So you see I do not prefer my interest to your good; and though you came an almost stranger to me, God forbid that I should send you as such abroad; at this time, as I am not so full of business but what our hands can do, you may make use of this opportunity by improving more with others: so that take a good heart, be diligent if you are employed, and patient if you are not; and never fear but every thing will answer for your good at last, as so far it has done already." And so they both drunk my health, and bid me be cheerful.

It cannot be imagined what great satisfaction these words of my master gave me. I desired both of them not to think I should now think hard of any usage I might have received by correction, often, I believed, through misrepresentation of others; but if not, I owned that youth must either be under discipline, or entirely lost; that I had rather cause to rejoice they had been my defenders, and now were become a greater blessing than even my natural parents; but, at present, I could do no more than return my most humble thanks, for whose prosperity I should pray as long as life continued to make me sensible of so incumbent a duty.

Upon their asking me what money I had, I told them, my poor stock amounted to no more than a tester; that indeed I had a shilling, but sixpence of it went to pay for a letter that my dear mother happily sent me, wherein, considering my condition, she had ordered me forty shillings and half a dozen shirts, to be received of Mr Gurnell, merchant, in Throgmorton street. This was great comfort at so particular a time.

So the next day I went to wait on him, but he was neither at home, or on the Exchange; I took a walk into Moorfields, and looking over the booksellers' stalls, I spied Ayre's Arithmetic, which buying, I parted with my last sixpence, thinking it would not be long before I had a fresh recruit. I went back again, but not finding my merchant, I was obliged to dine with Duke Humphrey: that I might not return empty, I had patience to fast till about four o'clock, and then it was, with great joy, that I found him in his habitation. The good man delivered me what was ordered, with a pious exhortation how to behave myself in the world; that I should carefully endeavour to shun the paths of wickedness, and strive to live such a pious life, as might not only be conducive to my health and reputation, but be the only means, after death, to obtain a state of felicity which is eternal in the heavens above. I found, by his modest habit, that he was a sort of Quaker, and returned him thanks for his care and advice, as he richly deserved. However my craving stomach was pained for want of temporal food, I so well digested this heavenly sustenance that my tender nature could not refrain from tears; and so, humbly taking leave, I went directly to seek a place of business, when luckily, I happened to engage with Mrs. Bradford, a quaker, and widow, in Fetter lane, who ordered me to come the next morning. With great spirit and elasticity I flew, as it were, homewards, to the great satisfaction of my kind master and mistress, who asked me, why I did not come to dinner? if I was not almost starved? or if I lit of the merchant, and dined with him? I told them the whole truth; and, going to work the next day, I continued so briskly, that by Saturday night I had earned near seventeen shillings: so that, having near three pounds in bank, and a new suit of clothes, of about three pounds price, which Mr Midwinter had given me, exclusive of my other apparel, I thought that I might do pretty well in the world; in order to which, I furnished myself with a new composing iron, called a stick, because anciently that useful material was made of wood; a pair of scissors, to cut scaleboards; a sharp bodkin, to correct the letter; and pretty sliding box, to contain them, and preserve all from rustiness; I bought also a galley, for the pages I was to compose, with other appurtenances that might be of service to me when occasion should require.

But as inconsiderate youth is, too soon, over fond of novelty, being invited to another place, under Mr Mears, in Blackfriars, I very indiscreetly parted with my mistress, which entirely lost me the favour of that knowing gentlewoman. On my entrance amongst a number of men, besides paying what is called Benmoney, I found, soon after, I was, as it were, to be dubbed as great a cuz as the famous Don Quixote seemed to be when he thought himself a knight, and that the innkeeper was lord of the castle, in the yard of which he judged that the honour was conferred: though the insipid folly thereof, agreeably to their strange harangues in praise of the protecting charms of cuzship, which, like the power of Don Waltho Claterbank's infallible medicines, would heal all evils, whether curable or not, was not very agreeable to my hearing; yet, when the master himself insisted it must be done, I was obliged to submit to that immemorial custom, the origin of which they could not then explain to me. It commenced by walking round the chapel, (printing rooms being called such, because first begun to be practised in one at Westminster Abbey;) singing an alphabetical anthem, tuned literally to the vowels; striking me, kneeling, with a broadsword; and pouring ale upon my head: my titles were exhibited much to this effect, "Thomas Gent, baron of College Green, earl of Fingall, with power to the limits of Dublin bar, captain general of the Teagues, near the Lake of Allen, and lord high admiral over all the bogs in Ireland." To confirm which, and that I might not pay over again for the same ceremony, through forgetfulness, they allowed me godfathers, the first I ever had before, because the Presbyterian minister, at my christening, allowed none at his office; and these, my new pious fathers, were the un-reverend Mr Holt and Mr Palmer. Nay, there were witnesses also, such as Mr Fleming, Mr Gibbins, and Mr Cocket, staunch journeymen printers. But after all this work, I began to see the vanity of human grandeur; for, as I was not yet a freeman, I was discharged as a foreigner in about a fortnight or three weeks' time. This was like a javelin to my soul, especially when I thought how vainly I had left Mrs. Bradford, in whose house I had lived without envy or danger; I imagined myself in a worse state than the prodigal, and judged that I was highly guilty of incivility, if not ingratitude. But though I believed my capacity for her business might induce her to accept me once more, yet, fearing her just contempt, I durst not adventure again to offer my service; there fore I sought for a new place, and instead of one, got several; in short, I obtained smouting-work, that is, labouring here and there without settlement, which affording a tolerable subsistence, made me endeavour to prove an excellent smouter, a more profitable title than that of a cuz, I assure you. And now I thought I had as little occasion to value Mears as he had set by me in discharging me as he did; I was so full of resentment, that when I met the proud fellow, (as I could call him no other, by his usage,) that I did not shew the least respect, but scorn, and would never work for him after.

Some months passed, when Mr Midwinter had a letter from Mr White, at York, that they wanted a young man at the business; and my answer being thought too pert or unsatisfactory to the proposal made me, I was rejected for a season; but one Isaac, a hawker, happening to travel in the country, went to that city, and being asked questions, if he knew Mr Midwinter; or me, gave such a character of me, as turned the scales in my favour. Another letter came from Mrs. White, that I might, if I thought fit, have allowed me eighteen pounds a year, besides board, washing, and lodging. Mr Midwinter consented I should go, since London was to me uncertain, and would be, till the time should come when I might have the same freedom as others; and indeed, though unwilling to leave so magnificent a city, I thought my consent became necessary. A guinea was allowed to bear my charges, twenty shillings of which I offered to Crofts, the carrier, a very surly young fellow as ever I conversed with, but he would have five or six shillings more; finding him so stiff with me, I was resolved to venture on foot. He set out with his horses on Monday, which I employed in taking leave of my friends, and particularly, that evening, of Mr and Mrs. Midwinter.

The next morning, being Tuesday, the 20th of April, 1714, I set forward, and had not, I think, walked three miles, when a gentleman's servant, with a horse ready saddled, and himself riding on another, overtook me, and, for a shilling, with a glass or so on the road, allowed me to ride with him in my road as far as Caxton, which was the period of his journey. On Wednesday, with difficulty, I reached Stamford; on Thursday, got to Newark, famous for the ancient castle near Trent, built by Alexander, bishop of Lincoln; Friday, having lost my road, I got no further than Bawtry; on Saturday, reached Sherburn; on Sunday, was much delighted with the stream of Wharf, near Tadcaster, and the same day arrived at York, about twelve o'clock. The first house I entered to inquire for my new master was in a printer's, at Petergate, the very dwelling that is now my own, by purchase; but not finding Mr White therein, a child brought me to his door, which was opened by the head maiden, that is now my dear spouse. She ushered me into the chamber, where Mrs. White lay something ill in bed; but the old gentleman was at his dinner, by the fireside, sitting in a noble arm-chair, with a good large pie before him, and made me partake heartily with him.* I had a guinea in my shoe lining, which I pulled out to ease my foot, at which the old gentleman smiled, and pleasantly said, it was more than he ever had seen a journeyman save before; I could not but smile too, because that my trunk, with my clothes, and eight guineas, was sent, about a month before, to Ireland, where I was resolved to go, and see my friends, had his place not offered to me as it did.

I lived as happy as I could wish in this family, and as I earned money, I bought me clothes, to serve me till I either went to visit my parents, where my trunk was carried to, or that I could get it sent me over sea; for Mr White had plenty of business to employ several persons, there being few printers in England, except London, at that time; none then, I am sure, at Chester, Liverpool, Whitehaven, Preston, Manchester, Kendal, and Leeds, as, for the most part, now abound.

The death of Queen Anne, at Kensington, on the 29th of July, occasioned the proclamation of King George I., on the 3d of August following, at York; it was on the steps of the magnificent cathedral that I perceived the comely tall presence of that most illustrious prelate, of Sir William Dawes, the archbishop, in company with the lord mayor and chief citizens, when the ceremony was performed. On the 9th of November, I purchased a watch of Mr Etherington, a Quaker, in High Ouse Gate, which, with the chain, cost me six guineas. On the 13th of December, Mr Andrew Hind and Archibald Ashburn, (the former a broken master printer, the other a journeyman,) came from their journey from Ireland to York; they received assistance from some of the Scots printers, and me in particular, though the latter proved so proudly ungrateful as not to regard me when I saw him afterwards at London. The year following* came another of the fraternity from thence, and though I had obliged the man in what lay in my power, whose name was William Sudworth, yet the wretch discovered me to the full in such a vile manner, that I thought him such a drunken mad enemy, more worthy to be prayed for than resented, because from secret, while I heard him, I found he knew not what he did, or, at least, had no reason from me for such inhuman treatment. But my mistress, who knew how to catch at cheap advantages, let me know that I was little better, and in fact, no other than an apprentice lad; which, considering I had already served seven years, I must needs confess, cut me to the very soul. And in this melancholy humour being given to versifying, when I had given over business in the evenings, I attempted to invoke the muses, whilst I wrote the following lines of what, so young, I had undergone in this mortal life:

I.

In fair Hibernia first I sucked in breath,

A pleasant isle, where spreading plenty flows,

A kingdom which, of all the realms on earth,

Is, sure, most happy, free from mortal foes,

Where wars and animosities do cease,

And, midst of war, enjoys a silent peace.

II.

Of meek and gentle parents dear I came,

Whose great delight was once in me, their son;

Who though for greatness they bore not a name,

Yet, for proximic virtue, bright have shewn;

Were rich in grace, though not in shining ore,-

They had enough, and who need value more ?

III.

In gentle sort they did me fair maintain,

My habit graceful, as I grew in age;

They sowed in me the seeds of future gain,

Made me to read, betimes, each sacred page;

And what successive learning might be gained,

They did their best for me to be obtained.

IV.

Both writing and arithmetic were taught,

With Latin, too, for to adorn the tongue;

But most, my mother's care, who would have nought

Be wanting, makes her subject of this song;

Whose wisdom with her piety did shine,

That rendered her like one as though divine.

V.

"Whate'er you do, my son," she'd often say,

"Or in what place you happen for to be,

In foreign lands, or on the raging sea,

Think of the Lord in most sublime degree;

Then either will He your blest soul defend,

Or send his guardian angels for that end.

Vl .

"Whatever wicked men of you may say,

However they may strive to do you ill,

Cease not to Him who made thee for to pray,

And doubt not but He will defend thee still:

Believe me, then, you'll have no cause to fear;

If God be for you, none to hurt you dare.

VII.

"If fortune frowns, bear it with sweet content,

Nor blame kind heav'n for partiality;

But rather take it as a punishment

Due to our sins, from which no mortal's free."

And such dear exhortations would she give,

That in the school of virtues I might strive.

VIII.

Whilst thus I lived, my days went gliding on;

But far from vice she strove me still to part;

Would not excuse the least offence I'd done;

She'd make me bring the rod, right used with art,

Not furiously, as simple mothers use it,

But mild, correct, and never once abuse it.

IX.

Nor ever did she whip her children dear,

But she would wound us with her kinder speech;

Ne'er gave a stripe, but we might see a tear

In her swoln eye, as if she would beseech

That, for the future, we might take great care

No more t'offend, that she the birch might spare.

X.

But when, at length, grown up to be put out,

And as a servile poor apprentice bound,

Hard words, and harder blows were laid about,

Far worse than parents give, or schools are found:

My thirteenth year began to find new forms,

Like Ocean's rage when windy Boreas storms.

XI.

Three years I with a tyrant strove to live

In easeless days, and more uneasy nights;

Sleep-that kind nature doth in darkness give-

He'd banish from our lids, and all delights;

Severe beyond allowance, like a Turk,

Cared for no servant, only for his work.

XII.

By nature lustful, and by drink made worse,

fierce over those he knew were bound t'obey,

Nero he seemed,-to us a greater curse,-

Whilst on our bones he furiously would lay,

A wretch so furious in his wrathful ire,

As filled us all with heat, and set our souls on fire.

XIII.

Such was the wretch, so were his actions vile

As worthy proved of just reproach and shame,

As pushed me sooner to forsake my isle,

To be a stranger, and to merit blame;

Which might, alas! my utter ruin been,

Had not Jehovah interposed between.

XIV.

Unknown to parents, then of friends most dear,

Whose hearts for me were with much sorrow filled;

Unknown to tyrant drunk, devoid of care,

Or sober, like a brute, to creature mild;

Away I moved, loaded with heavy grief,

And little else to yield my mind relief,-

XV.

Into a vessel, where I got safe hold,

Tho' not exempt from high and boisterous storms;

Sometimes I could the ocean wide behold,

To my stray'd eyes display most hideous forms;

Then did I wish myself free from the main,-

Wish on I might, but wishing was in vain.

XVI.

I can't express the sorrows I endured,

But few, I knew, there were could pity me:

Just like the deer, who from the hounds allured

Himself, but in the lion's paw fell he;

So I, escaping from a cruel master,

Did seem to plunge myself in worse disaster.

XVII.

When worst of saliant waters I past o'er,

And came at last in sight of British ground,

Soon after landed on fair Albion's shore;

A glimpse of sweet contentment there I found;

On Providence I solely did depend,-

Praised be the Power Divine that proved my friend!

XVIII.

To London, then, my wandering feet I traced,

Pinched much thro' want, but more by travel sore;

The days seemed long, and nights too quickly ceased,

Yet empty pockets made me ne'er give o'er,

Till I beheld, with joy, its towering spires,

And fresh became inflamed with new desires.

XIX.

In London four long years I did remain,

In servitude three years three quarters spent;

Three years, four months, and fifteen days, in vain,

In fair Hibernia I underwent;

So, I may say, I've serv'd seven years or more,

My freedom I will seek,-my liberty explore.

XX.

Dear Mr Midwinter, this must I say,

Though unto me ofttimes I thought you hard,

For that severity whilst you did sway,

You for my service had no small regard;

When like a worthy man you set me free,

Well knowing I deserved my liberty.

XXI.

Nor was this all which I esteem most dear,

You like a parent unto me did prove,

Well knowing that my friends were not me near,

Your goodness flowed as blessings from above:

May comforts thence surround you from the same,

Whilst I your noble virtue shall proclaim!

XXII.

I'm not ashamed to own what I have writ,

Or mourn of poverty, which many scorn;

Nor can I think that I betray my wit,

If still I add, I was no beggar born;

My father dear is of an honest trade,

My mother 's decent and genteelly bred.

XXIII .

The best of men are subject unto woes;

The richest ofttimes fall in poverty;

The thoughts of which I ever did suppose

Could be no wrong to mine, no hurt to me:

They're only poor and woeful is their state,

Who seek not God, and whom the Lord doth hate.

XXIV.

'Twas Him alone has been my lonely friend,

Whether in shady groves, or mounts, or plains;

He's dried my tears, whilst tears I had to spend,

And made me change my joy to mournful strains;

My flattest notes has turn'd to sprightly sharp,

Inspired me as that king who played like David's harp.

XXV.

O may I ne'er forget a person here,

Dear Madam Midwinter, of 'lustrious fame!

Sweet darling woman! Heaven's peculiar care!

Worthy in annals bright to shine; your name!

What ear has heard, what eye has piercing seen,

That good displayed? such has my mistress been!

XXVI.

By nature prone to virtue from her birth,

Made of the finest and genteelest mould;

One of the fairest products sprung from earth,

Her mien and stature pleasant to behold:

But though her lov'd perfections seemed divine,

Above all these her virtues far did shine.

XXVII.

I may compare her to that empress bright,

Matilda, daughter to first Henry king,

Whose graces sweet composed, gave such delight,

Of every action justice loud did ring;

Able to wound, yet mercy in her reign'd,

And, oft offended, freely pardon deign'd.

XXVIII.

To live unbounteous never did she know;

Whilst speaking, pleasant was her speech to hear;

Prompted to give, she quickly would bestow;

If silent, silence seemed to all severe;

But when she smiled, transcendent charms were seen,

And all were pleased while she appear'd serene.

XXIX .

Farewell, dear madam, if 'tis so decreed

That I no more shall thee again behold;

But whether God, who knows what all do need,

Says live awhile, or soon fall into mould,

In heaven for ever blessed be thy soul,

Where virtues glittering most transcendent rule.

XXX.

Now from a seven years' servitude, at last,

I'm sent abroad, to seek my daily bread;

Through many torments of my mind I've past,

And still must look what painful steps I tread;

For some rejoice I can't as yet be free,

Whilst others hope that I shall never be.

XXXI.

Printing is sure a fine and curious art,

Esteemed by princes, great and mighty men,

Because that things obscure it doth impart

More quick than numbers e'er could do by pen:

So cheap withal-what manuscripts contain,

As saves a world of time with little pain.

XXXII.

But men who do at press this art profess,

Do work like horses wild, as seem themselves;

Whilst those at case, styl'd asses, seem not less,

Though for the most part both are drunken elves:

Famous for knowledge which they strict pursue,

But when o'er pot, for dullest scandal too.

XXXIII.

Some time amongst these herds I did remain;

As they appeared to me like grunting swine,

Envious at what I earn'd with no small pain,

And grudging that I had therewith to dine:

Till moved at length by kind auspicious ray,

I'm far from them, o'er hills and far away.

XXXIV.

I shall not now such characters declare,

Nor would I, gen'rally, be understood,

For though the most are bad, yet some there are

Of honest hearts, sincerely just and good;

But few indeed, compared unto those

Who shamefully this art sublime expose.

XXXV.

And now to ancient Ebor's city come,

Perchance I may some time recline my head,

Till future years shall make me spring in bloom,

Or I, through fate, or all my foes, be dead:

Which way it will, I trust that God will be

My guardian here and in eternity.

XXXVI .

Young sure I am, and yet have felt much woe,

But happy 'tis, I own, to be so tried;

In vale of tears, we sorrow undergo,

Before we can in happiness abide:

Tremendous Being! let me never sever,

But love Thee still, whose love will last for ever.

Having thus vented the diversity of my flowing passions, I made myself as easy as possible with Mr White, till the year expired that I was hired for; though offered to be continued, I would not agree to stay another year, till I had seen my friends in Ireland. Yet what made my departure somewhat uneasy, I scarce then well knew how, was through respect of Mrs. Alice Guy, (the young woman who I said first opened the door to me,) upper maiden to Mrs. White, who, I was persuaded to believe, had the like mutual kindness for me: she was the daughter of Mr Richard Guy, schoolmaster, at Ingleton, near Lancashire; had very good natural parts, quick understanding, was of a fine complexion, and very amiable in her features. Indeed, I was not very forward in love, or desire of matrimony, till I knew the world better, and, consequently, more able to provide such a handsome maintenance as, I confess, I had ambition enough to desire; but yet my heart could not absolutely slight a lovely young creature, as to pretend I had no esteem for her charms, which had captivated others, and particularly my master's grandson, Mr Charles Bourne, who was more deserving than any. However, I told her, (because my irresolution should not anticipate her advancement,) that I should respect her as one of the dearest of friends; and receiving a little dog from her, as a companion on the road, I had the honour to be accompanied, as far as Bramham Moor, by my rival, on Saturday, the 15th of May; being attended also with my late companions, Mr John Mickle, Mr Penman, Mr John Harvey, and others. In Yorkshire I travelled through Leeds, Brighurst, Ealand, and over Blackstone Hedge; in Lancashire, through Ribondale, Ratsdale, Bury, Bolton, Ashton, Prescot, and Liverpool. As I could not readily meet with a ship bound for Ireland, I thought to have worked with Mr Terry, the printer of this latter town, but, the man seeming to have no more business than he thought he could manage, and not in the least, as I thought, courteous to me, a stranger, I made no hesitation, but directly crossed the river, in the ferry boat, to Estham, and so travelled to Park Gate; the Betty galley, with colours displayed, commanded by Captain Briscoe, was ready to sail with the first fair wind: I called to mind how much I was indebted to Providence in the state I was in, compared to that when I first beheld that place. The inns and public-houses being full, I lodged at Nesson, a mile from the shore: at first I did not like the house, on account of the ordinary travellers I 'spied there, which the landlady perceiving, " I see," said she, "you are not a common traveller, young man, by your habit and linen, and therefore you shall have a clean bed to yourself:" and indeed it was so, in a little snug room, where, next morning, I was wonderfully pleased with the reflection that the sun, rising, made on the counterpane, being complete patchwork, like Joseph's coat, and, for aught I know, made up with as great a variety of colours. As I had formed a resolution to hire a fisherboat to carry me over the estuary, into Wales, my good-natured landlady agreeably called me to arise, with news that the captain was immediately preparing to sail, and that his streamers and ensigns gave indications that now the wind was fair for the voyage: quickly I dressed myself, took some refreshment, returned her thanks, with generous payment, refreshed my little dog, and so set forward to the vessel, wherein I joyfully entered with him; the flowing tide coming to its fulness, and turning upon its ebb, the anchors were quickly weighed up from the sands. The waves were very boisterous along the Welsh coast, according to the violence of the wind: we got into a creek near Holyhead that night, which is the most extreme point of Wales that lies opposite to Dublin; and here our captain, being hailed, went ashore, and brought along with him the Rev. Mr Dubourdieu, a clergyman, who belonged to the Episcopal French church in the cathedral dedicated to St. Patrick, in Dublin. He was a tall, swarthy, venerable, and pious gentleman; but the sailors terribly swore that they thought that they should have no good, for they would as lieve see the devil as a parson, to stop them in this manner in the middle of their voyage: and indeed, as it fell out, they seemed to be frightful prognosticators indeed, for, a little after, frightful phenomena darkened the elements, succeeded by such a terrible storm that confounded all the passengers, and made the sailors pray, curse, and labour without intermission. For some days we were tossed about in this dangerous manner, that (as I heard afterwards,) many in Ireland had concluded our gallant ship and all her crew were utterly lost; for we were driven considerably towards the north, and not far from Scotland, but from thence made hard shift to shelter in the harbour of Douglas, near the Isle of Man, about a quarter of a mile from the town. That day the quality thought fit to go on shore and refresh themselves; whilst we that remained espied a funeral procession solemnly walking to an adjacent village, where the corpse was interred. Towards night, as the boat was returning with the captain and the rest, the pilot told the great danger they were in by the high winds, and was afraid he could not attain the ship. "Row on," says the master, being drunk; but the man still representing the case, he struck at him for his care. "Nay then," said the pilot, "I am as little afraid to die as you; you may repent striking me before a few moments pass." Upon which he pulled up as commanded, but of a sudden the boat was almost over turned, and the company decently washed more than they expected. "Turn, my lads, to the shore," said the captain: " Pilot, I will make you amends, and am heartily sorry for what I have done." So they lodged at Douglas, with a resolution to stay for better weather; and, the next day, the boat was sent for those who were willing to come ashore, with a relation of what happened: I gladly embraced the opportunity, as being very sick with the tossing of the vessel. We continued here about eleven days: at first provisions were very reasonable, but more ships being driven to the harbour occasioned a scantiness while they continued. Some were much put to it for beds; but it fortunately happened that I met with an ingenious Irishman, Mr Thomas Kendall, who was a last-maker, and employed in the family of the Right Reverend Father-in-God Dr. Wilson, Bishop of Sodor, in that island; and besides was very acute in making viols: and letting him know that I was going to my dear parents, he was so good as to allow me to take share of his bed, which was large enough for both of us. For my board he recommended me to the family of Mr John Corris, who dressed me any thing I wanted at a very easy expense, so that I could not expect to find better usage in any strange part of the universe. I might have had at first a good pullet for four pence, and a quart of strong brandy for an English shilling, which went there for fourteen pence.

I often used pensively to walk along the shore, the sands being very smooth, except the outward margent, where lay pretty stones and shells. The passage towards the north is terminated by a high rock, that falls gradually into the sea, and, I believe, lies for a great way beneath the surface of the water. One day I 'spied a small passage, by which I ascended, to have a better view of the country. There seemed, by the gradations (only fit for one person at a time), as if the steps had been hewn out by the labour of some ancient hermit; for on the apex there was a seat too, that gave me a vast prospect of the ocean, and the place seemed to me as romantic as Calypso's island, where she would have enervated the vigour of divine Telemachus, had he not been defended by Minerva, under the shadow of Mentor. Here it was that my melancholy thoughts inspired me with a sort of poetical genius to contemplate on the unsettled affairs of this transitory life.

Upon Sunday following I went to hear divine service in the church of the village, where the corpse had been carried, as I mentioned before: and there I heard the Reverend Mr Lancaster, an English gentleman, preach a funeral oration on the much lamented death of that gentlewoman, Mrs. Anne Stacey, who was spouse to one of the twelve senators there that rule in the nature of a parliament. I think, as well as I could hear or remember, the minister insisted that none of his auditors should too absolutely judge, that all suicides were in a state of damnation, for that many good and virtuous people had been overcome through a strange melancholy and other wild disorders, not readily to be accounted for: that as to the deceased, they knew it was the effect of a high fever that occasioned her to call for a knife to pare an apple, which was as foolishly given her, and excessive pain that incited her to rip open her bowels, which issued forth with her life; that her former innocence and virtue, with her many charities to the poor and distressed, would no doubt be put into the balance with her last unhappiness, and, through the mercy of God, outweigh that crime and other enormities, which few (heaven knows,) but what are subject to. And, therefore, instead of uncharitable reflections, it rather should make us fly to the never failing refuge of powerful prayer, to be delivered from the horrid temptations of the devil, who sought all opportunities, especially in adversity and sickness, to ruin our precious and immortal souls, whom he would not have protected by holy angels, that, however, often snatch them from the dragon's power, and convey them to eternal rest beyond all sin and danger.

Another remarkable thing was at the visitation of the clergy. The good Bishop, I think, sat as judge, when a young fellow was cited for getting a child by a young damsel, to whom he had promised marriage: his lordship most piously laid before him the heinousness of his crime, by sinful acts to deprive her of her chastity and then endeavour to fly from, and abandon her to ruin; that even the restitution he should be obliged to make was not a sufficient retaliation, or expiation of his guilt, without a thorough repentance for what he had committed against God; but if a just sense and detestation of his faults plainly appeared by his future behaviour in being a good husband and truly reformed Christian, why then he could give him assurance that he should recover the favour of Heaven and his fellow-creatures, to the salvation of his soul and body. The trembling youth, melting into tears, (which set several of the spectators weeping also,) made not the least hesitation to marry his deluded creature, whose fair cheeks were also pitifully bedewed, as a token of her affection; and I make not the least question but that the holy prelate took speedy care that the solemn rites of the church should be soon performed between them.

I had a very willing mind to have seen Peel, Ramsey, and Castle Towns only that I dreaded to lose my passage; and as it was, I had like to have lost it, from going on board that ship on this occasion. As I sat one rainy evening at a public-house, an exciseman was also at the fire-side near me: when I was innocently praising God for his preservation of our ship's company, he deridingly mocked and hinted as if Almighty God had no hand in human concerns that way, and our escape might only be imputed to the mere effects of chance; for what were we better than, probably, many good people that the same seas had swallowed up? had we greater reason to expect greater favours? and if not, was it not (though we might shew our gratitude by sundry highest indications,) an imputation upon the divine mercy and benignity that they were not saved as well as we? "No, no," said he, "think not that your preservation was any concern of his, whose sphere only obtains that happiness which we fondly imagine, through excess of fear or devotion, doth also descend to us."

" Sir," said I, " why God suffers some to die sooner, or by more uncommon deaths, than others, I think becomes not any mortal too curiously to inquire. He may be willing at one time to take us from a more evil day, I mean from committing more evil, whereby our sad destruction might become inevitable. Perhaps, too, it might be, by immediate death, to bring them to speedy punishment for crying iniquities: and, for ought we know, through unbounded love, to call them to his happiness, as a quick reward for having done their duty to him in the best manner they were able. His pleasure in these cases is to be submitted to, and well thought of; but your argument is far from being so, which robs poor and afflicted travellers of their greatest comfort on earth, by making them of all men most miserable; that is, by denying the hope of God and Christ, with the assistance of the Blessed Spirit, in their greatest distresses, when they know not how soon their precious souls may be demanded of them. What can be more wicked than to hear you deny this? What more piercing to me under such circumstances, when I know my chiefest consolation is in the Lord; when I know there is nothing in the shadow of death can revive our sorrowful spirits more than the glorious thoughts of everlasting life; and nothing more strong to support us here than the love of Heaven, whose watchful eye is continually over the faithful, who seek divine truth and hold fast by the promises revealed to us."

Though I was but young, and not much learned, polemically to engage with a man of his age and capacity, with a sort of mathematical genius, yet I argued as well as I could from the Holy Scriptures, wherein so many miracles abound, to prove not only his Divine existence, but those admirable attributes intermingled with love and compassion towards those of the large household of faith who place their confidence in him. That all our properties of goodness, aptitude, agreement, beauty, virtue, and reason centred in Him who gave us being, and from whom we derive all celestial improvements that will reinstate the soul in greater glory. And I reiterated that his care and love became manifested chiefly in giving his own son to die for our salvation, and sending his Holy Spirit to guide and comfort us in all the contingencies of this mortal life, as well as to free us from sin and misery. Not to mention, from Eusebius, Justin, and others, those indubitable miracles that were performed in several ages of the church, especially in regard to saints, martyrs, and confessors, who owned Christ's divinity and assistance in their very last moments, and expired with joy in the midst of the most cruel torments.

Upon this he seemed to laugh heartily at me, and called me a poor pious philosopher; but I gave him such language, in the spirit of meekness, as I thought the case required, considering a text I had read "Not to provoke a heathen lest he sin," [I think it is somewhere in St James] and such that I had no occasion to repent of. The company round us seemed mightily pleased with what I said, called him an atheistical, foolish, unmannerly fellow, and told him that he had now met with his match. Upon this he flung away in a huff, and then I told them, I was far from public disputation, if he had not occasioned by words which I thought were very impious, especially to a stranger, but was sorry lest I had trespassed too much to hinder their discourse on other matters.

But they were very well pleased at his absence, willingly treated me, and told me he was continually affronting innocent persons. They added, they would speak of me to the Bishop's Gentleman, who was then in Douglas, and that he would take me to Castle Town, where I should want no assistance, till some ship or other was ready to sail for Ireland. Besides, that his lordship would be respectful to one of my profession, as he was a friend to the press, and greatly contributed to the printing of the Common Prayer in English and Manx, for the benefit of the people of the island. With this pretty talk of theirs, and the benefit of the sparkling liquor in clear glasses, we were all exhilarated to an high degree, and sat rather too long, as I felt by an aching head the next morning.

The sailors not knowing where to find me, had hoisted anchor, and when I arose about eight o'clock, the ship was vanished from my sight, behind a rock that screened me from its view; my concern was very great, till coming to the brink of the water, I found two other passengers, who had been left as well as I, agreeing with a boatman to follow the ship, with whom I gladly included myself into their bargain; but just as I was going to step in, my little dog, I suppose, not well pleased to venture again on the ocean, looked strangely affrighted, and began to run away: grieved to leave him, for the sake of her who gave him to me, I ran after him, till a rock that jutted into the sea stopt him, the boatman crying most of the time, "Damn the puppy, we'll go without you, if you don't come quickly!" but when I got him, I threw him over my shoulders, as one would do a sheep, and so run, panting, to them, whom I found had too tender hearts to leave me behind them. When I came aboard, I was accosted by the minister, the gentlewomen, and one Mr Harvey, a student designed for Trinity College, with "Where have you been, young man? what was you afraid of, that you could not tell us where you lodged? all of us have been in sad concern about you; however, we are glad you have overtook us in so good a time." I heartily thanked them for their well wishes, and so we got into Dublin Harbour that very day, and, by the boatmen from Ring's End, were carried to shore. Here, and at Lazar's hill, we were welcomed by many people, who had before been in terrible consternation, fearing the long expected ship was entirely lost, and now their hearts were filled with transporting joy.

When I came to my father's house, as our dutiful custom is there, I fell on my knees to ask his blessing. The good old man took me up, with tears in his eyes, kissed me, saying "Tommy, I scarcely knew thee." My mother being at my sister Standish's, near the Strand, I went thither and found her in the parlour; and she as little knew me, till falling in the same posture, I discovered her wandering son. The children, my nephews and nieces, ran out of the pleasant garden to behold their uncle; and, in short, I was as much made of as my heart could desire. But the most fond of me was my dear niece, Anne Standish, a perfect beauty. Often did we walk till late hours in the garden; she could tell me almost every passage in Cassandra, a celebrated romance that I had bought for her at London. She was beloved by a gentleman [Rev. Mr Knowles] of the same college where her brother, Mr John Standish, was educated, and her countenance was so amiable, as if the rose and lily met together, that I think the young gentlewoman might have charmed the greatest personage on earth; but above all, which graced her modest behaviour, she was a most pious young creature, and exceedingly charitable to the poor.

After this, it was not long before I engaged myself as journeyman with Mr Thomas Hume, in Copper alley; one whose mother was well acquainted with mine, and had her son brought up very prettily in the Blue-Coat Hospital, much like that of the famous St. Bartholomew, in London. Being put out to Mr Francis Dickson, who kept a printing office, he became enabled at length to set up for himself, and printed many good books. But here I met with a sad persecution from my old master, Powell,* [In Dunton's Farewell to Dublin, this first master of Gent is thus described: "His person is handsome, I do not know whether he knows it or no, and his mind has as many charms. He is the very life and spirit where he comes, and it is impossible to be sad when he sets upon it; he is a man of a great deal of wit and sense, and, I hope, of as much honesty; in the meantime, he is neither scurrilous or profane, but a good man and a good printer, as well as a good companion."] who employed officers to seize me for leaving my apprenticeship with him. This was a cutting stroke, though I own it might be expected, and with extreme sorrow pierced me even, I may say, to the very marrow of my soul. In this poor condition I became the ludicrous sport of common Irish journeymen, and particularly of the scamperers from London, which usage I afterwards remembered in an Hudibrastic poem, of which I shall take notice in its proper place. In this melancholy situation, being forced to keep out of harm's way, I received a comfortable letter from Mrs. Midwinter, in London, (who knew nothing of my trouble,) that if I pleased to return to her spouse, I should never want a home while she lived: meanwhile my dear father, my brother-in-law Mr James Standish, and another gentleman visited Mr Powell, and offered a certain sum for my releasement; but this obsequiousness made him insist the more on higher matters, so that, upon due consideration, finding there was no other, and. indeed no better remedy,-that the best of men had their troubles, nay, that King George himself just then, had an unnatural rebellion raised in his kingdom, which, on my coming thither, I had not as much as heard of,- that no inclemencies or dangers could be worse to me than Powell's tyranny, joined, for ought I could tell, with cruel revenge, and to frighten others through my example,-and that I had a good kingdom to return to at pleasure; I say when I considered all this with my friends, a resolution was formed and agreed to, that I should privately leave my native country once more, and wisdom taught me to keep all a secret within my own breast till times proved better with me. About that time I received a letter from my dearest, at York, that I was expected thither; and thither, too, purely again to enjoy her company, was I resolved to direct my course. I took leave of all friends, on the 8th of July, who seemed much concerned at our parting: but my unlucky whelp, that a little before, while taking a glass with Mr Hume, had torn my new hat in pieces, seemed noways affected at my taking boat, so I let the rascal stay with my dear parents, who were fond of him for my sake, as he was of them for his own; nor was he less pleasant, by his tricks, to the neighbourhood, who called him Yorkshire, from the county I had brought him. Coming on the sea, we were becalmed, or if a breeze sprung out, it was rather contrary to our desires; so that it was the 12th instant when I arrived at Park Gate, where I had cause to thank God I was escaped once more from a man I was now sure had proved an inflexible enemy indeed. On the 13th, I hired a horse to Eastham, and took boat for Liverpool: it was of a market day, so that the vessel was mostly filled with a parcel of lovely damsels, that had baskets of provisions to sell, as any person, I believe, might see in the whole universal world; and the same encomium might be given those of Lancashire. After landing, whilst easing myself of urine, a corner of an alley, who should I observe opposite to me doing the like, but my late friend Mr Kendall, who had been so kind to me, in the Isle of Man. With joyful surprise I took him by the hand, led him to a public-house, treated him, and gave him a thousand thanks for his humane and Christian carriage towards me in distress. I told him I had delivered the letter he entrusted with me to his wife; who I found was, as he had…

[Here is another chasm, and when the narrative proceeds, he is on his way to London, having, as it appears, spent some time in York; the years are 1715 and 1716.]

But the next morning, getting about a mile from that town, a fellow steps from out of a hedge, as if by his staring and uncombed hair, ugly gait, and other insignia of a villain, he had made that his nocturnal habitation; upon my asking whither he was going, he said, "too and fro in the earth, for every place was alike to him." Being a stiff strong man, I neither liked him or his style, when, luckily, an honest countryman, on horseback, passing by, I went to him, told him I did not like the company I had met with, and desired him to bear me away behind him, and I would satisfy him for his trouble; accordingly, I lost my ill-looked chap, met the opportunity of a coach the last day's journey, and got safe to London, about three o'clock in the afternoon.

Whilst working there with my master Midwinter, I met with very barbarous usage from one Henry Lingard, a fellow-apprentice, son to a chairman that plied at the court end of the town. He used to d-mn me for an Irish bog? And did I think to get my freedom?-no, he should take care to prevent me; and such like stuff used to be the daily entertainment I met with from him. I believe he was set on by a journeyman, who, without any just reason, was as vexed because I was in a way to gain it, in spite of their malice; but one day, this Lingard, hindering me from work, swore he would fight me, whether I would or no: I gave him all the good words I could, to be quiet, but in vain; grieved to the heart, I offered him money, to let me live easy the time I had to stay; that to make a noise in the house would be very ridiculous, and displeasing to our superiors: all signified nothing; thrash me, he would. "Well, Spark," said I, "well can I perceive those spiteful arrows, levelled to make me miserable, do not all come out of your quiver; I wish they that put you on, like a dog, to worry me, would appear as open as you do." "Dog!" said he, in disdain; with that he lets drive the first stroke, which obliged me to return his salutation. I beat him heartily in the case room, and then we tumbled, like fighting cats, down stairs, amongst the presses. The lye-trough standing at the bottom, he happened to fall with his head therein, when that unholy liquid smeared him to some purpose: we descended down another pair of grades, where the paperbank tumbled after us for company into the back kitchen; and, notwithstanding his great strength, it was my happy fortune, through God's good providence, to give him that just, though severe, correction, that he ran howling like a dog indeed that had lost his ears, to complain of me to his indulgent.parents, who, far more reasonable, upon my telling them, impartially, the whole state of the case, made matters up between us, through desire of our good master and mistress, and, afterwards, never young persons proved better friends than he and I together.

About the month of September, I received a letter from my dear, which acquainted me that the poor condemned persons had felt the utmost severity of the law, for the mean value of three halfpence, which neither of them had received, I confess I was much astonished when I considered how very common it is with men, sportingly to ask a pint of ale, or the value thereof, on the road, without the least intention of robbery; for if so, it were highly criminal if they took but a farthing or nothing, since the making people stand to deliver is putting them in bodily fear, and punishable as if they had taken ever so great a sum. But I, like others, could not be satisfied with the credibility of the evidence; nor would I, in this case, judge ill of the printer, though, through his means, while on my master's business, I had been shamefully abused by one Banks, a copper-nosed rustic, who kept the cock pit; and I wish I may not judge wrong, if I think that the temptation of the reward for taking highwaymen, proved the grand inducement to swear away the poor creatures' lives. But at that time, as the determinations of law were above my tender capacity, I could say nothing more but heartily wish the deplorable sufferers a happy immortality, hoping, at the final tribunal, they would meet with an infinitely more favourable Judge: and what seemed to me to render them more worthy of Divine mercy, and tender pity of their fellow-creatures, was the speech which Barron wrote with his own hand, and desired might be made public in print; and both he and Bourne confirmed the same at Tyburn, near York, on Saturday, the 8th of September [1716], just before they were obliged to change this mortal life for a better. People were very much affected at their behaviour, both in regard to their vindication and sufferings; and though the sword of justice had lawfully smitten them according to the evidence, in which neither judge nor jury were to be blamed, yet charity made them to believe that the poor sufferers were really guiltless of designing to commit any robbery, though they had acted a very foolish, and, as it happened, a fatal indiscretion. But Barron spoke and wrote very plainly, that his life was taken away unlawfully and unjustly, that, for his part, he was at a distance from those men who were concerned in so wretched a case, by the breaking of his shoe-buckle, which prevented his coming near them while it was in agitation; that is, he was not so close up to them as to be concerned, much less charged with what was acted, but yet he was not so far off neither, but that he heard Townshend beg a little money to get a drink, for truly that he had none to purchase a sup; whereupon Mr King said he had no more than three halfpence, which he readily gave him. But Mr Jackson seemed a hero in defence of what he had, and told him, if he expected any, he must fight for it first. I am of opinion, that had Mr Jackson been assaulted by a common footpad with a pistol, his courage would soon have been cooled from making resistance, and I wish his mind did not then give him, that these poor fellows without weapons, could not be such as he, for a cursed reward, was willing to prove them; and, on the other hand, no doubt but Townshend was surprised at such a proposition, which made him reply that he was nowise inclined for fighting, which argues he had no design of committing a robbery; and I think so too, for few staunch rogues are not only for taking what they can, but for blows, and often worse, in order to make their escape, and prevent discovery. Barron, employed in fastening his shoe, was not come up until all was over, and separated; and, therefore, solemnly declared that none of his companions, he believed, and for himself he was sure of, had the least thoughts of committing a robbery: for the reason of their going out of town, was to seek a deserter, who had been drinking with them at the Cart and Wheel, in Feeze gate, and for whose loss the serjeant had threatened he would make them pay; whereupon, rightly conceiving the fellow was gone to his father's, at Northallerton, they took the road to Clifton, wherein this unhappy action of three halfpence happened. But a thought striking into their heads that they would return to York, and declare to the officers their intent, by the information they had where he was gone, which it proved by being seen there next day, they stopped from their intended journey, to put in practice their resolution: but it was not long before they met with Bing and Jackson, accompanied by assistants, to secure them as offenders! surprised and grieved, they scorned to be taken as such, and so went to their quarters. There it was that Barron and Bourne were secured, which, when Townshend heard of , who only had the three halfpence, he secured himself by making off, and never was heard of after, whilst they were strictly examined, hard sworn against, and led to prison, though entirely innocent. This was the effect of Barron's apology; but at his death, his charity went farther; he freely forgave them, however, what they had done, though he never committed that or any other crime that merited heavy punishment from mankind, but, indeed, that he had been guilty of too immoderate love towards women of pleasure, drinking, and keeping company; "things," he said, "that were but too common in the world, and the ready ways to misfortune."

As to Bourne, he challenged any person to say he ever did the least wrong, and accused Jackson of down right perjury, insisting that he never demanded any money of them, or offered the least abuse. Thus these two poor creatures died for being unhappily in the company of a foolish fellow, who yet was so wise as to shun theirs when under impending danger, when he was the most highly concerned.

Such a speech, howsoever just it might have been, (which none but heaven and the criminals satisfactorily knew,) had I then worked with Mrs. White, I should have endeavoured to have dissuaded her from the printing thereof; at least, I would have omitted those names, and dressed it in such language as might have as fully displayed their innocence, without falling under those losses which designing persons, who valued not the lives of the most harmless people, would rejoice should also be made their prey. But she, not having the least love for the reputation of Jackson, who served an apprenticeship with her husband, (nor was there any the like respect lost on his side,) she was resolved to print the same, as it seemed to tend to his disinterest, not considering of those disadvantages she became thereby obliged to sustain.

Her son-in-law, from Newcastle, unsatisfied with the share his father had left him, was at York at that time, and, as I heard, incited her to the completion of it, either, I presume, not carefully reflecting on the danger, or, perhaps, not caring how much his kind stepmother, (if I may so use the epithet for she was more kind, I believe, than he deserved,) might be oppressed, so that he might wickedly profit by the ruin of her and her grandson, whose name was joined with hers in the said printed paper, though, as I wrote before, she acted as entire mistress, by agreement. This publication of the late prisoner's last sayings so wounded the reputation of Mr King amongst the people in general, that he sent his wife to complain of the same to Mrs. White, and to persuade her to ask pardon as publicly in print, by way of recantation. But madam was rather too obstinate, and indeed, I think much to blame, (since so small a matter would have prevented what followed,) in refusing to yield to be in any error, or give the least satisfaction by owning that she had been imposed upon. Matters growing to a ferment, there wanted no advice to her enemies, who had little to lose, and so much to expect by suing her, to take the advantage of the law, which quite gave its sentiment against her. (Mr Bourne being cleared by the judge, as a minor under tuition), by which judgment she lost near fourscore pounds.

This success to her adversaries emboldened them to attack Mr Morphew, the publisher at London, in whose monthly pamphlet the same speech, or words like it, had been inserted. But he was so wise as to prevent their sinister design, by applying himself to the judge, who, no doubt, gave him that advice which he took by submitting to a recantation; by which means he pleased Mr Serjeant, and saved his purse from their mercy. But the unfortunate Mrs. White's troubles were not ended; for now, Jackson began to send his puffs abroad, how he would bring her once more under the lash, for wounding the reputation of so honest a man! And, 'tis not to be doubted but, pushed on by his ancient hatred, the action had certainly been brought against her, a second time, for the same paper, if his hands had not been palmed with twenty guineas, paid him by Mr Martin Lantro, barrister at law, nephew to Mrs White, who was uneasy to leave his aunt, being her heir, till she was freed from this vexation also, and then he returned to Lyon's inn, at London, where he received his learned education. He was a worthy gentleman, who, at my writing to him of the poverty that the sister of Mrs. White was fallen into, and but indifferently used by a snarling husband, he allowed this poor aunt of his six guineas a year, which I paid to her by his order, till death released her from all care and necessity.

As to King and Jackson, they gloried awhile with the money they got as a reward for taking up highwaymen, and with what was obtained through Mrs. White's misfortunes. But they were often twitted with it not withstanding their threatenings to any that should tell them of it. One of them did not long survive, but the other did, till after the time that Bower was condemned for the robbery of Mr Harris, of Giggleswick; at the pardon of whom, and his being defended by a learned pen, (in consideration that Garbut, one of the high party, had before been cleared,) his son being employed in printing for Bower's side, in his newspaper, an answer was put up at the Common Hall gate, which complained that Jackson was believed for an action done at twilight, as he said, by men who robbed them of three half pence, for which they had been hanged, and had not the money neither; and that it was strange as plain testimony of the young gentleman against Bower, the verdict of a jury, and just sentence of the law, should be questioned, through a partial defence of such a wretch who more richly deserved hanging, by all appearance. This so nettled old Jackson, who indeed was not to be blamed for what his foolish mean-spirited son printed, that he did not long survive it.

I assure my reader that I have related the case with the greatest impartiality; and as I believe the unfortunate sufferers who died at Tyburn, through his evidence, were happy as to the enjoyment of their fleeting souls, so I wish that of Mr Jackson, through a secret repentance, may appear without any accusation against it at the great tribunal.

I should not have mentioned this shocking digression, if I had not been ascertained how much Mrs. White was affected at my absence. Often would she say to my dearest, "Alas, had poor Gent been with me! though young, he was adorned with prudence, and I am sure would not have done any thing whereby I could have been hurt in this barbarous manner: how does he do? does he never write to you? I wonder what's the reason he never lets me know so much as how he lives." After this, her illnesses came on apace, and she suffered extreme afflictions, though she had all the assistance that learned doctors or other skilful persons could afford. Her first husband was a clergyman at Wakefield, and she was very happy in her last. She was of comely stature, pretty features, and generally good-conditioned, but of too great passions when put out of quiet temper. However, her charity to the poor could wipe away a multitude of faults that way; so that, when she sickened, none could be more deservedly lamented by them. She continued for a long while in a languishing pitiful condition, attended carefully by my dear, whom she looked upon little less than if she had been her own daughter. All this while I was as careful in saving what I earned as possible, but yet could not perceive a prospect of settlement, whereby to maintain a spouse like her as I judged she deserved; and I could not bear the thoughts to bring her from a good settlement, without I could certainly make us both happy in a better.

In the year 1717, I had the great happiness of being made freeman of the company of Stationers, at their spacious hall, in Warwick lane; and afterwards, on the 9th of October, in the same year, commenced citizen of London, at Guildhall, notwithstanding the false objection raised against me in the court, by one Cornish, that I had been married in my apprenticeship; but my master, Midwinter, proved him a notorious liar, and he was reprehended by the warden and others. We dined at a tavern that day, and my part of the treat, with other expenses came to about three pounds. A little time after, my parents sent me word that they had given the five pounds I ordered for my first master Powell's discharge, if he would accept thereof; which, at length, he received with a willing heart, and wished me all manner of happiness. Thus I became absolutely free, both in England and Ireland, which made me give sincere thanks to the Almighty from the inward recesses of my soul.

And now, thinking of my kind usage in the Isle of Man, I endeavoured, in the following lines, to give it the best character I was able to do.

BLEST, happy isle! of thee I now must write,

And for thy kindness, in these words requite:

When threatening storms did drive me to thy shore,

Thy sight was pleasing more than golden ore;

With languid eyes thy lofty rocks I viewed,

With rapturous joys our fainting hearts renewed,

Sickness, and grief, and want, relief did find,

Joys pushed us on, whilst terrors stalk'd behind.

Life of our souls! who gave me life near death,

Prolong'd my days, to find a grave on earth.

In ancient manner for to treat thy worth

Requires a skilful pen to set it forth;

I only as a traveller indite,

And in peculiar manner mean to write.

Thou hast a power, and unerring law,

Within thy bounds, to hang, or burn, or draw;

And tho' thy king's a subject, from thy land,

Yet, I am certain, he's a king in Man.

Thy parliament consists of twelve, 'tis known,

Whose wisdom by their government is shown:

Thy priests and church like ours. This you may boast

That, from all sects, you are unmixed most.

No Papists here, or Presbyterians dwell

Within your isle, as I am informed well.

Religious strictness, sure, in thee is found,

And innocence and honesty abound.

Let other nations never call thee poor,

Thou hast God's blessings,-what can they have more?

What though thou hast not silver much, or gold,

Provisions for the cheapest rates are sold:

Good bread, fish, butter, and meat, though the least,

Is sweet, and very pleasant to the taste:

Fourteen-a-penny eggs, the drink most clear

And smooth, to relish down your harmless cheer.

These, sure, the meanest want not,-are not scant

Of that which many, in some places, want.

Their coin, which way you turn it, always stands,

And ever goes, but not in foreign lands.

No noisy factions or divisions be,

And war or tumult scarce is found in thee:

Thy people honest, tho' some count 'em mean;

Yet they by nature wholesome are, and clean:

Their children, too, (who need not give me thanks

For this just praise,) can English speak, and Manx

What tho' they barefoot walk upon the sand,

To save their shoes,-How pleasing is the strand!

How beautiful the waves, when gliding on!

How soft are not the paths they tread upon!

With homespun garments, they in winter dress;

Make honesty, not pomp, their happiness:

A good old age they see, are blest with health,

Which do exceed the greatest pomp or wealth.

Lo, Nairne! 'tis said that lordly Scot is sent,

For rebel's act, there to meet banishment.

But is this exile, when that he can see

Not only Man, but likewise kingdoms three?

Scotia the north, Albion the north-east,

And fair Hibernia, too, upon the west.

Not punishment he, for his sins, can call,

Or if it be, there's mercy mix'd with all.

Let him, then, bless King George. Nairne cannot crave

What's fit for man but he in MAN may have:

Doth he want liquor that is strong and stout?

No better brandy in the world throughout:

There good and wholesome beer and ale is found,

There foreign products plenteously abound;

That lord with pleasure circle may the isle,

And new ships sailing many a distant mile;

From town to town on little horses ride,

Or should he tumble off, scarce hurt his side;

Live near the bishop, in fam'd Castle Town,

And, acting well, not value mortal's frown.

Farewell! adieu! thou pretty happy isle,

Peaceful and just, which causeth heaven to smile,

Relief of ships, and passengers distress'd,

By both made happy, may you still be blest;

No spunging there, but Christian pity shown

To sick or weak, as I have truly known;

Not like Park Gate, where liv'd a griping race,

Enough to eat the nose from off your face.

If e'er in storms I'm on the surging main,

May I be driven to Manx' isle again!

Thus I diverted myself in expressing my gratitude to God and man for benefits received; and now no place of good business was denied me, neither wanted I that diligence that was necessary for my profit. But still it was my fortune, though I entirely loved the young woman, to dread wedlock, fearing so great an expense as that state of life requires, especially from a servant to become superior to others. However, I kept correspondence with my dear, my intent being, some time or other, to set up ill a proper place in the country, for as yet my purse was far from being sufficient; nor would it have been for a long time, had I stayed with Mr Midwinter, for the maintenance he allowed I should take at York, which were but the same as he afforded till I became a citizen, when I thought I could provide for myself, and perhaps others, in a much better manner. In short, as I told him I was for going, he took it so much to heart that, to vex me, I was ordered to depart immediately, without a fortnight's warning in such cases, which fixed in my mind as deep a resentment. What I acted, I modestly judged to be agreeable to reason, though he called me a jesuitical dog, for carrying myself so humble till I had gained my ends: but I told him that I had learnt that submission from none but Jesus, who took on him the form of a servant for our sakes; and if he wished me ill, it was more than ever I should suppose of him or his spouse, both of whom, I hoped, would ever be blessed with perfect happiness; that whatever they thought of me, I imagined my case was the harder, since I knew they were not unprovided with servants, though their anger would not allow me time to seek a new master; however, I would not aggravate them by more words. " Sir," said he, "have you no copies of mine in your trunk, which you may think to get printed in another place?" "Well, master!" answered I, "this wounds me more than the worst action you could have done by me; here's the key,-open it; take them if you find such, and seize every thing I have, for a just forfeit for my infidelity." At which Madame Midwinter said "My dear, don't be too hard, neither, upon the young man, since he will go; perhaps he may repent first, when he finds the want of business; don't spoil what you have done for him, nor hinder him from getting a living in the best manner he is able." Hereupon I returned her my dutiful thanks, and meekly departed.

Some hours had not passed when I waited on Mr Watts, who promised me business upon the first occasion he had for a new journeyman. Thinking it would not be long I took a lodging at the King's Head court, in Drury lane, at eighteen-pence per week, and had a bed in the first fore room, a pretty sort of a parlour, to myself, for I cared not to have any man as a companion, through cheapness, but would give more to lie alone. After some days, the landlady, who took notice of that deep melancholy which afflicted me for being out of business, proved very kind, and said a great many pretty things to comfort me. I suppose to know my pulse, she asked me if I knew the picture of the Chevalier which was in my chamber? But I had other things to think on, or I might, on play nights, have seen Prince George and Princess Caroline visiting the theatre. My notions were not so much fixed on great personages, (though, in a political thought, I did not want the least sense of the most humble and dutiful respect to our superiors in church and state,) as how to spend my time well, and procure an honest livelihood in a troublesome world. I was obliged with sorrow to remove into the city, and constrained to labour at the press, with jobs done at various houses, since work at case was not so brisk but what there were enough of hands to perform. My strength was now put to its utmost stretch, till it happened that I applied to the courteous and ingenious Mr Wilkins, in Little Britain; on his asking with whom and where I served my time, he thought, as it was a ballad house, that I must, in consequence, be insufficient for his polite business; but upon my desiring him to try me, and if disliked, to discharge me without wages, he became, upon trial of me, so satisfied with my work and behaviour, that he resolved I should be one of his constant servants. In his house I wrought alternately at press and case, the latter mostly on the Bishop of Bangor's Answer to the Convocation; but was much maligned, without the least occasion, by Samuel Negus,* a journeyman, who had been for a time apprentice with Mr Midwinter as well as I: that invidious creature, wanting more homage than there was occasion for, used often to twit me that it was through his means I was kept in. How that was, I did not know; but I am sure his peevishness made me long to be out again, to which I may add my great fatigue at the press, furthered on such a desire when I could be employed more suitable to my genius and constitution. My landlord, Mr John Purser, the joiner, informing me one night, that the aforesaid Mr Watts wanted a compositor, and would willingly accept me, which he could not do before, I gladly waited on that gentleman, and gave warning to Mr Wilkins, who, sorry to part, would fain engage me, that if I left Mr Watts, I should apply to him again. So I went from him; but a little after, the same Negus quarrelling with an apprentice, "What!" said the lad, "will you drive me from my master, as I am sure you did poor Mr Gent, that harmless young man?" which Mr Wilkins happening to hear of, protested that if he had known it before, (which my generous temper scorned to take notice of,) he would not have permitted him to order me to the press, but rather parted from him, and kept me entirely to the case, which would have prevented my going to any other; which grieved Negus to such a degree, that the base wretch sent a complaint to the house where I was, by an old printer called Father Peyte, as if I intended to leave Mr Watts and return, and have the bringing up of an apprentice, to his prejudice; but his apprehensions appearing ground less, plainly shewed what he afterwards proved, for this very fellow composed a list of all the master printers in England, (and, through malice, put me in amongst them, at a time when I was not arrived at that careful degree, but actually working as a journeyman with old Mr Henry Woodfall, exhibiting the titles of "high" and "low," and those of which he was uncertain as to their principles. This he sent to the secretary of state, in hopes to have a power as messenger of the press; a copy of which, from the office, being given to Mr Watts, his petition and catalogue were printed and distributed amongst the profession, especially the masters, among whom the wretch was one at that time; but the rascal being sufficiently exposed, lost his credit, and was obliged to return into the condition from whence he came. One Clemson, whom he had made a pressman, as being brother to his wife, went as a common soldier to Gibraltar, the daughter of whom was a poor hawker, though, I believe, the most harmless of the family.

In the year 1718, the venerable Archbishop Dawes came to London, having either been indisposed the year before, or, as a good prelate, did not care to be present or concerned when the executions were obliged to be performed on some illustrious criminals. This was only owing to the tenderness of his spirit, ever inclined to mercy, whilst his loyalty, like the sun in glory, shone with conspicuous rays of lustre, and his piety soared even to heaven itself. As I heard him preach in York, I was comforted to behold him in the pulpits of St. Magnus and St. Clements Danes, in London; and his discourses were so heavenly, his deportment so sweetly majestic, with so charming an elocution, that unusual transports could not fail to bless me, and all who heard him, with sincere devotion.

And now I thought myself happy, when the thoughts of my dearest often occurred to my mind: God knows, it is but too common, and that with the best and most considerate persons, that something or other either gives them disquietude, or makes them seek after it. It was my chance, one day, to be sent for by the Rev. Mr Smith, near Foster lane, who told me he had heard of my character, and as Mr Crossgrove was breaking off partnership with Mr Hasbert, of Norwich, if I would accept of his place, or take so much standing wages as would subsist me, and part of the business for encouragement, he would recommend me: after some consideration, we struck up an agreement; and, a few hours after, I had a letter of encouragement from Ireland, as also a mournful one from my parents, that they were very infirm, and once more extremely desirous to see me before they died. On this I relinquished my intended journey to Norwich, though the stagecoach was ordered to receive me; but took care to recommend Mr Robert Raikes in my room, who is now settled master in Gloucester. I parted also from Mr Watts; wrote a lamenting letter to my dear in York, bewailing that I could not find a proper place, as yet, to settle in; told her that I was leaving the kingdom, and reminded her, by what had past, that she could not be ignorant where to direct, if she thought proper so to do; that I was far from slighting her, and resigned her to none but the protection of heaven. But sure never poor creature afflicted with melancholy that I was upon my journey! my soul did seem to utter within me, Wretch that I am, what am I doing? and whither going? my parents, it's true, as they were constantly most affectionate, so indeed they are, especially in far advanced years, peculiar objects of my care and esteem: but am I not only leaving England, the Paradise of the world, to which, as any loyal subject, I have now an indubitable right, but am I not also departing, for ought I know, for ever from the dearest creature upon earth? from her that loved me when I knew not well how to respect myself, who was wont to give me sweet counsel in order for my future happiness, equally partook of those deep sorrows which our tender love had occasioned, was willing to undergo all hazards with me in this troublesome life, whose kind letters had so often proved like healing balm to my languishing condition, and whose constancy, had I been as equally faithful, and not so timorous of being espoused, through too many perplexing doubts, would never have been unshaken, and without question would have promoted the greatest happiness for which I was created. Thus were my agitations so great that, coming near Chester, I fell so suddenly ill one night, that I expected death before the morning; but recovering, and hearing that passengers had waited long at Park Gate for a passage, I would not stay to ask Mr Ince, a master printer, newly set up for business, but travelled to Holyhead in about four days, and sailed in the packet boat, commanded by Captain Avery. I was very wet, and much fatigued, but one of the sailors was so good, for a small matter, to let me have his cabin, dried my garments, and carefully attended me, for which I generously rewarded him. Early in the morning we took boat in the harbour; but not being able to make up to Dublin, we crossed three leagues, to get to Dunleary, about five miles south-east of the city: we were so numbed with cold, that when we landed, we could scarcely stand upon the sands; but striving till the blood returned into its channels with heat, we got to a house, awakened the people, had a fire lighted of furze bushes, and got some refreshments. The captain, and postboy, with some gentlemen, got horses, but I ventured on foot, without fearful apprehension; on the rising of the sun, I had almost agreeable prospect of the gentry's seats near the shore, and soon after arrived once more at the house of my father.

None could be more kindly received by my friends than I was; our neighbours used to plague me, in asking What news? Some time after, we heard of that wicked intention of John Sheperd, to slay the Lord's anointed; the Irish are very loyal to King George and the royal family, and judged it well done to execute so strange a youth, who had much better have minded his painting, than to harbour the least unworthy thought of our gracious sovereign. So much do they honour the memory of King William the Third, that it is punishable in the least to traduce it, whose equestrian effigy, in brass, is fixed as a great ornament, in College Green.

I had the pleasure here of visiting my sister Standish's family, when I pleased,-walking in the garden joining to their pleasant house, near the Strand, and conversing with my pretty nephews, and beautiful nieces, as I often did; [With one or two of them and their father about the … of May I rode to their estate in the country near Porth Town in the County of Meath. I visited Durnshoglin (where Judge Cusick lies entombed) and Thomas Town, Ratos etc. in the same county of Meath. On the 6th I was in Rabegan in which church my little niece Sarah was interred] especially with my dear niece, Mrs. Anne Standish, many a pleasant hour by our selves, talking of history, travels, and the transactions of the most illustrious personages of both sexes: but now and then, when she would touch of their love, I believe, to know if ever I had felt its unerring dart, my dearest in England quickly recurred to my wandering thoughts, and filled my heart with such strong emotions, that my sudden sighs could not but reveal my inward trouble, which did not pass by unobserved, though I strove to hide them.

But indeed, after some time, I found cause enough to give me uneasiness, for the business, though I wrought with kind Mr Hume, who gave me what he could well spare, was not near so beneficial as what I had at London; but the affection I bore to my dear parents, so I could but obtain common subsistence, took all thoughts of further advantages away, till Mr Alexander Campbell, a Scotchman, in the same printing office with me, getting me in liquor, obtained a promise that, when he was determined, I should accompany him to England, where there was a greater likelihood of prosperity. Accordingly, he so pressed me, and gave such reasons to my dear parents, that it was not worth while to stay there for such small business as we enjoyed, that they consented we should go together; but alas, their melting tears made mine to flow, and bedewed my pillow every night after that I had lodged with them: "What, Tommy," my mother would sometimes say, "this English damsel of yours, I suppose, is the chiefest reason why you slight us, and your native country; well," added she, "the ways of Providence, I know, are unsearchable, and whether I live to see you again or no, I shall pray God to be your defender and preserver."

I thought it not fit to accumulate sorrows to us all, by returning any afflicting answers, but taking an opportunity whilst she was abroad on her business, I embarked, with my friend, once more for England; but it was our hard fortune, through contrary winds, to get no farther than Holyhead. From hence, loaded with clothes, after painful steps, we ascended the high mountain of Penmaenmawr, a promontory of a prodigious height, which gave us a sweat to some purpose; the narrowness of the passage, though made more safe than formerly, as it might strike a terror, so its prospect was someway pleasing, to behold so vast a space on the ocean, and contemplate the wonders of the Almighty on the deep. With greater joy we descended the hill, or rather a number of them contained on the large extent, as it were, like the Alps in France; but greater still, to find a house of good entertainment subsiding near the bottom thereof: there taking refreshment, there luckily passed by some carmen with horses not over loaden, who, for four shillings or thereabouts, carried me and my goods to West Chester; and I must confess, the poor honest Welshmen took great care of me, so that we had a hearty drink at parting.

I left my friend as a journeyman to Mr Cook, the printer, (who had bought the materials of the executors of the late Mr Ince,) and arriving at London, I applied myself again to Mr Watts, who readily employed me; but at a new lodging, near Long Acre, through carelessness of the landlady laying wet sheets on the bed, I had such a terrible night, with pain all over me, that, what with the sweat of my body, and the dampness through moisture, the sheets were as wet as if newly washed in the Thames; for my part, I could scarcely walk to the printing house, [of which Mr … was the ……] and when I came there, my ghastly appearance made the men desire me to return, for I was more fit for my bed than to work; but when I desired them to let me stay, and told what I thought was the reason, they cursed my kind hostess: when I returned at night I found her drying the sheets,-she was sorry for what happened, and ever after took special care of my safety.

After all, that I had undergone, I must confess, I thought were but my just deserts for being so long absent from my dear, and yet I could not well help it. I had a little money, it is very true, but no certain home wherein to invite her. I knew she was well fixed; and it pierced me to the very heart to think if, through any miscarriage or misfortune, I should alter her condition for the worse instead of the better; upon this account my letters to her at that time was not so amorously obliging as they ought to have been from a sincere lover by which she had reason, however she might have been mistaken, to think that I had failed in my part of those tender engagements which had passed between us. But to proceed in my long narrative.

My friend and fellow-traveller, Mr Campbell, coming from Chester to London, got into the same house with me, when there happened an affair, soon after that, which entirely lost me that place. Near the office, it happened, that Mr Francis Clifton, who had a liberal education at Oxford, but proved a Roman Catholic, had set up a press, and printed a newspaper. His journeyman sickening, he was in great distress for a hand; so hearing of me and others, we were sent for to an alehouse, where, opening his want, I ventured to assist him for a day or two. But this being discovered, was very ill interpreted, and Mr Clifton offering me largely, though himself was in poor circumstances, made me resolve entirely to take my chance in his affairs; and so I did in that kind manner that, upon his being arrested for debt, I attended him while under custody of one Earle, so named, a rascally and cruel bailiff, to get out of whose clutches, I paid the money, without expecting any interest, and only took, as security, some furniture he could spare for my lodging.

The usage he received whilst in hold, gave me such horrid distaste to that sort of vermin, that I never cared to have the least society with them; for scarce one action was cleared, but another was ready to be clapped on, and a follower sent about to the creditors to prepare fresh ones. But Mr Clifton had not been long delivered when he became apprehensive that an extent was designed to be levelled from powerful enemies; to shun the merciless effects of which, he moved his goods into the liberty of the Fleet, and there became entered as a prisoner. Here an old Yorkshire gentlewoman who lived in St. John's street, let him have whatever he wanted; the Catholics often relieved him; and he was equally as ready to oblige them in his publications. He paid me honestly almost every week, as my constancy and labour deserved. Some time, in extreme weather have I worked under a mean shed, adjoining to the prison wall, when snow and rain have fallen alternately on the cases; yet the number of wide-mouthed stentorian hawkers, brisk trade, and very often a glass of good ale, revived the drooping spirits of me and other workmen. I have often admired at the success of this person in his station; for, whether through pity of mankind, or the immediate hand of Divine Providence to his family, advantageous jobs so often flowed upon him, as gave him cause to be merry under his heavy misfortunes. I remember once a piece of work came in from a reverend bishop, whose pen was employed in vindicating the reputation of Mr Ken-sley, an honest clergyman, who was committed to the King's Bench prison, through an action of scandalum magnatum, though many thought the truth was, he had only hinted in private to a certain noble an heinous crime, that once brought down fire from heaven, and which was revealed to him by a valet de chambre upon a bed of sickness, when in a state of repentance. And, though I composed the letters, and think, if my memory does not fail me, that I helped to work the matter off at press, too, yet I was not permitted to know who was the author thereof but, however, when finished, the papers were packed up, and delivered to my care; and the same night, my master hiring a coach, we were driven to Westminster where we entered into a large sort of monastic building.

Soon were we ushered into a spacious hall, where we sat near a large table, covered with an ancient carpet of curious work, and whereon was soon laid a bottle of wine for our entertainment. In a little time, we were visited by a grave gentleman in a black lay habit, who entertained us with one pleasant discourse or other. He bid us be secret; "for," said he, "the imprisoned divine does not know who is his defender; if he did, I know his temper: in a sort of transport he would reveal it, and so I should be blamed for my good office; and, whether his intention was designed to show his gratitude, yet if a man is hurt by a friend, the damage is the same as if done by an enemy; to prevent which, is the reason I desire this concealment." "You need not fear me, sir," said my master; "and I, good sir," added I, "you may be less afraid of; for I protest I do not know where I am, much less your person; nor heard where I should be driven, or if I shall not be drove to Jerusalem before I get home again; nay, I shall forget I ever did the job by tomorrow; and, consequently, shall never answer any questions about it, if demanded. Yet, sir, I shall secretly remember your generosity, and drink to your health with this brimful glass." There upon, this set them both a laughing; and truly I was got merrily tipsy, so merry, that I hardly knew how I was driven homewards. For my part, I was ever inclined to secrecy and fidelity; and, therefore, I was no way inquisitive concerning our hospitable entertainer; yet I thought the imprisoned clergyman was happy, though he knew it not, in having so illustrious a friend, who privately strove for his releasement. But, happening afterwards to behold a state prisoner in a coach, guarded from Westminster to the tower, God bless me, thought I, it was no less than the Bishop of Rochester, Dr. Atterbury, by whom my master and I had been treated! Then came to my mind his every feature, but then altered through indisposition, and grief for being under royal displeasure. Though I never approved the least thing whereby a man might be attainted, yet I generally had compassion for the unfortunate; I was more confirmed it was he, because I heard some people say at that visit, that we were got into the Dean's yard; and, consequently, it was his house, though I then did not know it; but afterwards learned that the Bishop of Rochester was always Dean of Westminster. I thanked God from my heart, that we had done nothing of offence, at that time, on any political account; a thing that produces such direful consequences.

During my stay with Mr Clifton, which, without my design, drew many of Mr Midwinter's customers from him, I was often solicited by the latter to return again, and he would allow the same premium as the former did, of twenty shillings per week. But not only was I afraid of an inducement to beguile me, and so turn me out, destitute of a friend, when his turn was again served, but also could not be without a just reprehension of acting a very dishonourable part, in causelessly leaving a person who had not, as yet, given me the least reason for separation.

Madam Midwinter did often desire that I should return again to their service; and, for that purpose, sent Mr Robert Turner, who was formerly my fellow apprentice. But that awful reverence I knew I should be obliged to submit to, the fear of an alteration in their tempers, or that I should offend them so as to feel their displeasure, as I had done before, made me resolve to keep, as long as I could, where I seemed to be more steadily settled. Thus our affairs continued, both persons opposing each other; of which there happened this year, 1719, an unhappy occasion, through the execution of Mr John Matthews, a young printer, for no less than high treason. I think, eleven of the judges were upon the bench at his trial; his own brother, happening to be in the court, proved his hand writing, as others did of his printing a work, called "Vox Populi, Vox Dei." I beheld him drawn on a sledge, as I stood near St. Sepulchre's church; his clothes were exceeding neat, the lining of his coat a rich Persian silk, and every other thing as befitted a gentleman. I was told he talked, like a philosopher, of death, to some young ladies, who came to take their farewell, and suffered with a perfect resignation. He was the son of an eminent printer in Tower-Ditch, who died about three years before: and whose body, through favour of the government, his corpse unquartered, was laid by in the church of St. Botolph, near Aldersgate. One Vesey, a journeyman, who was principal evidence against him, did not long survive the youth; at his burial, in an obscure part of Islington church-yard, many of the printers' boys, who run of errands, called devils, made a noise like such, with their ball stocks, carried thither for that purpose; the minister was much interrupted thereby in the burial service, and nastiness being thrown into the grave, far from shedding tears they besprinkled the mold with their urine. But these indignities being taken notice of, what printers had been at Islington that day, had their names sent off to the courts at Westminster, where it cost their pockets pretty well before their persons were discharged from trouble. Happily I was informed, at Wood's close, of the intended procession; but desirous to be out of harm's way, I shunned the crew of demons, with their incendiaries to a mischief, and took another contrary way.

But, after some months, I went to the same town of Islington upon a very dutiful occasion, inspired with pure gratitude in memory to her, whom I shall remember whilst the sense of thought remains within me. It was occasioned by the much lamented death of Mrs. Elizabeth Midwinter,* who departed this mortal life on Wednesday, February 10th, 1720. Indeed, considering her former goodness, though it was sometimes mixed with severity, when she pleased to chastise her children and servants when she thought them deserving of punishment, yet being tempered with quick reconcilement, many times with presents, that overbalanced our light sufferings, nay, when I thought of her subsisting me with board before I had gotten withal wherewith to maintain myself as I ought, and many good offices beside. All these threw me into such a tender vein of versifying, that quickly produced the following lines.

O were mine eyes a fountain, I should weep,

And make a river, nay, an ocean deep:

Or could the secret channels of my heart

Flow as I wish, they'd stream to every part;

Convey my grief to ev'ry distant shore

And tell… my… dearest… mistress… is… no more!

But, as they are, when I thy grave behold,

Sighs shall breeze o'er, whilst tears bedew the mold;

Sure 'tis a tribute that I justly owe

'Tis all thy servant can, alas! bestow.

If there be knowledge as I believe there must,

Beyond the tomb, where flesh but adds to dust;

And if 'tis possible of me, so vain,

That one least thought should in your soul remain;

Then this most humble sacrifice receive

To whom when here my reverence I gave;

Let me be honoured by thy sacred urn;

Be blest in sorrow, while for thee I mourn.

But vain I talk, 'tis woe betrays my sense.

You're gone, alas! You're fled forever hence.

The noblest thought, wherewith I am possest,

Is, that you're crowned in everlasting rest.

Where but in heaven? Since heaven's refulgent part

Did always shine, and glitter through your heart?

Where could it go to seek a brighter flame

But to that place divine from whence it came?

Where cares are ended. tears are flown away,

And night is swallowed up in endless day.

You who have known her worth, O speak and tell

But what ye knew, and how she did excel.

Comely in personage, in stature tall;

Stately in habit, courteous unto all.

Unto the poor could talk without disdain;

And yet was fit to speak to those who reign.

Her elocution soft, her wit refined,

And gen'rous actions graced her glorious mind.

Short her resentment, ready to forgive

E'en those from she injuries did receive.

Wise in her management she constant prov'd;

Hated by few, but by the most belov'd:

And those who lov'd her not, 'twas sure because

Their manners could not merit such applause.

Her grieving spouse with inward pangs doth mourn

So great a loss, now in the silent urn:

And sure just cause, since better cannot come;

Or scarce an equal to supply her room.

We, who, obsequious, us'd around to stand,

Did often share the bounty of her hand.

Her tender heart was always good to those

Whom torture had exposed to grief and woes.

Thus I may speak; speak what I well have known:

To me, she has parental kindness shown:

For when oppressed, through the want of friends,

Her goodness more and more would make amends:

And, though sometimes at variance, spoke of me,

In wishes kind, that I might happy be.

Alas! I can't well write what I conceive;

Do more or less, than for her sigh and grieve

This I can do, while thought in me doth last;

And think, with dear remembrance, what is past.

Sweet the memorial is, although it brings

A melting grief, like death's most cruel stings.

Alas! 'tis plain; our dearest friends must go;

But where, or when, there's none alive can know.

Ye sacred angels! tell me, what desire,

Near joys seraphic, should my soul inspire!

To see her happy, midst of angels bright,

What more ecstatic, than the source of Light?

And yet another:* Fain I would behold

Before her tender body's laid in mold.

But ah! in having hope, I now despair

Lo here to meet here, though I may elsewhere.

Could I but view them both in future state,

New joys would bloom, and transports fresh create.

It would reward me for my grief and pains,

More than Æneas, or the Elysian plains,

When he his father lost, Anchises found,

And Pulinure beheld, who late was drown'd.

Tell me, bright angels! now my mind ye prove,

Shall I enjoy, what I could wish above?

Shall these my second thoughts not God offend,

As if my wishes should not these transcend?

Ah! no - desires like mine not sensual giv'n

Must please, since gratitude inspires from heav'n.

"Tis there I fix, where dwells the sacred three:

Where shining thrones display divinity:

Where ev'ry order shows a lovely charm;

And where ALL's blest, there can be nought of harm.

God loves his saints, and places them in view;

And is, no doubt, pleas'd we should love 'em too.

When men perform'd the sacred rites of dead,

'Twas thought their souls would be reposited.

Achilles for his lov'd Patroclus hurl'd

A sight of Trojans to the unseen world,

Young Troilus did by the hero bleed;

Nor Hector's force could save him, or his speed.

He fled in vain. Alas! the sacrifice

To his dear friend would scarce the man suffice.

Himself at length is by an arrow slain;

And Iphigenia feels a mortal pain:

At once the priest lifts up the glittering knife,

Which turns to red, and robs the maid of life.

Sanguine and fearful were these cruel rites,

When slaughter'd victims seem'd false gods' delights!

She fell a victim to appease the shade

Of him, who her, and her's unhappy made.

Those funeral honours, never to be prais'd,

Were to the honour of the low deceas'd.

A nobler way we use to make them bloom,

Whilst to their mem'ry we erect a tomb.

But as no mausoleum I can raise,

Lamented shade! let this be to thy praise;

That though no marble speaks, yet times to come

Through me shall know your much lamented doom;

My eyes shall often fill, my breast shall swell;

And mournful accents seem my passing bell;

[Eliza's name my soul shall oft respire,

With various warblings like the æolian lyre.]

My broken heart, through reverential love,

Shall visit every lonely place and grove.

[My pencil, as bright art improves, shall draw

Those features in my mind that once I saw.]

The rinds of trees I'll carve to open view;

And as they grow, so shall thy memory too.

[Harp, viol, voice, in harmony to me,

Melodiously shall sound and sing of thee;

Tears will bedew my cheeks, like falling streams,

And gentle sleep be bless'd with wand'ring dreams.

Waking, I'll mourn, though bid not grieve too much,

I cannot help it, for my love is such.]

My pen shall write, if not in learned style,

Yet in smooth lines, devoid of flatt'ring guile:

And if the powers should ever raise my fame

To write a volume, you shall be my theme.

For in my panting breast thy tomb's erected,

Which cannot fail awhile, 'tis so perfected;

And here 'twill last, in beauty fair remain,

Till conqu'ring death dissolves my fatal chain.

[* Ne dubites pericula et afflictiones tuas hos spiritus scire, quia semper vident faciem cœlestis patris, ad omnia promptissime ei præsto su[nt] ministeria. Gosh. Medi `sacr p.129. Mrs S. G. my dear mother]

Thus did I ease my heart, I thought, by giving vent to sorrow, and was resolved to attend at her funeral though uninvited, were I obliged even to walk on foot ten miles from London. I procured a lock of her hair, which I intended to have curiously set in a neat stone ring, and so have worn it as a dear memorial. Her body, within a fine coffin covered with black cloth, was respectfully placed in a hearse, attended by her spouse in a mourning coach, by himself, who was followed by two or three more, filled with relations or friends. Arriving at the parish-church of Islington whilst the office for the dead was reading, many tears were shed, particularly by a fellow-servant, accompanied with mine, with the greatest sincerity, I am sure, for my own part. People of whom she had taken country lodgings in that town, and others, were not wanting in tender respect towards her. She was deposited on the west side of the churchyard, near her first husband, Mr James Walker; and when the minister had ended this mournful solemnity, and the company departed, I concluded, upon a tombstone adjacent to her remains, the following

EPITAPH.

Lo! underneath this heap of mould,

My mistress dear is laid;

A wife, none better could behold,

None chaster when a maid.

Weep, passenger, when you pass by

This little space of earth;

And think the same death you and I

Must pay, with loss of breath.

In certain hope to rise again,

'Tis here her body lies,

'Till it ascends, with Christ to reign

In Heaven, above the skies.

So, reader, meditate your state,

And let your thoughts prepare

To meet, with solid joys complete,

Your Saviour in the air.

My behaviour whilst attending her funeral, did not pass unobserved by Mr Midwinter, or his friends; he sent for me that night, and would fain have persuaded me to have given lawful warning to Mr Clifton, and come to him. He told me that his daughter-in-law's [Mrs Betty Wilkinson] unhappy marriage with a mean fellow had gone a great way to break the heart of his late spouse. He now urged his heavy grief and great distress; how honourable it would be to me, and acceptable to him, if I would but comply, or if not, to do it as soon as I could with convenience. Thus knowing the impetuosity of his desires, I soothed him as much as I could with obliging words; but inwardly was resolved to keep my station, till I had a juster reason than an invitation, which I thought, as before, somewhat precarious; though I judged wrong, I need must confess, as by what hereafter will appear. Nay, such was my strong attachment, that it made me also resist the arguments of some of the profession, against working for such a foreigner as Mr Clifton was styled, and, as it were, slight that imminent danger which my master had vainly brought upon the family and particularly touched himself, for bold touches on political affairs.

Thus estranged, from certain hopes of quietude, I so continued for several months; in which time, I confess, I was willing to part from him, if I could gain his consent. But his averseness was beyond measure, even when I told him I could procure him a servant equal, if not superior, to me. His temper was very obstinate in relation, but this I looked upon as proceeding from respect and impartiality, though I afterwards found the contrary from him. As he had a desire for those goods that were in my hands, I let him have them without a penny interest; and thought it a particular satisfaction that I was able to relieve him in his extremity. He had, besides, obliged me in printing a little book I wrote, intitled, "Teague's Ramble," [Printed 1719. Reprinted in 1743 by Owen Univ. Mag. Vol I, p. 194 it is advertised if not the same yet this title] a satire I had written on some of our profession, who richly deserved for their unmerciful usage to me and others, their fellow creatures; wherein only the guilty were made to feel its sting, and the innocent commended. But, at length, an accident happening, and the strange violence of his temper therein, (contrary to the sentiment of the comic poet,) to preserve his reputation against the vile assault of a recorded villain that could not hurt it, caused a final separation, and a thorough annihilation of friendship; which, God knows, at least I think, I had never given the least occasion for. The matter was thus: There lived then a common hackney writer, named Richard Burridge, who sold written pamphlets, for about half-a crown each, to the printers. This man I had known from the beginning of my apprenticeship at London; for my master used to send me to him, in Newgate, for copies: whether, at that time, he was confined there for debt, or for writing a burlesque, called "The Dutch Catechism," I will not positively affirm; but, to me, he appeared a cursing, profligate wretch, as any of his fraternity in that woeful prison. He, afterwards, was released; but, in a little time, came to be immured, for debt, I think, within the Gate house, at Westminster. So that it being too long a walk, and Mrs. Midwinter being fully satisfied with my genius at the pen, obliged me, in my apprenticeship, to turn author for them too; in which office, my harmless style in relating occurrences that daily happened, proved very acceptable to the public. This was not pleasing to Burridge, no more than he himself became agreeable to human and divine laws; for, whilst drinking Geneva to excess, he would frequently quarrel with the other prisoners; and one time, in company with George Taylor, he drank such healths, in a blasphemous manner, that I almost think are too nefandous to be repeated, though in pious detestation thereof. But, by what they said, it was plain they owned the power of Beelzebub as their master, against divine omnipotency, to whom they wished confusion! and, to the souls of the departed, horrid condemnation at the resurrection; words, that in some places would have brought them to the flames, as diabolical testimonies of wickedness. It was thought by some, that this their infernal policy was thus wickedly exhibited to get free of that prison, and to obtain a hole in Newgate, which they might think more proper for their interest. Whether themselves thought so or not, it proved, however, true; for they were moved thither by virtue of habeas corpus, tried at the Old Bailey, ordered to be pilloried; and I once saw them exalted without Temple bar. They had gotten skullcaps made of printing balls, stuffed with wool, which I was desired to carry to them, but these proved but weak helmets to avoid the eggs and stones that were made to fly at them by the furious mob, who had almost knocked out one of Burridge's eyes, who was thought the greatest villain of the two: but, with the other, he deeply marked the person whom he thought had hit such an unlucky blow; so that, when he came down, he drew out his penknife, strove to make up to the youth he mistrusted; and, I believe, would have stabbed him to the heart, were it not for the interposition of the attending officers of justice. Afterwards, he wrote a book, called "Religio Libertini," giving an account of his past life, humbly desiring pardon of God and man, and professing that, from an atheist, he was become a convert. People who did know him were deceived, and likewise those who had given him good advice; so that, what was said by the poet, of such who endeavoured to wash the Ethiopian, might have been applied:

"Abluis Æthiopem, quid frustra? ah, desine; noctis

"Illustrare nigræ nemo potest tenebras:"

for the same Burridge afterwards stole a book of mine from out of Mr Midwinter's printing house; and I lamenting and telling whom I suspected, he so taxed the fellow with it, that he brought it back to me, and said he only took it in jest, and designed to return it when he had read the Epicurean philosophy contained therein. My easy temper went so far as to believe him still a convert: but my opinion changed when invited to ou