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With him they are gone; oh cruel, cruel death!
Edinburgh. -A tradesman of this city, who had ordered his grave-clothes and coffin to be got ready, died yesterday of an asthmatic fit. Some days before his death he tried on his death-clothes, which were made of linen, but imagining them too cold, returned them back, in order to be lined with flannel !-He paid for them himself, and drank a parting glass with his acquaintances.
London, February 12.-On Friday last the complaint of Mrs.
S w as opened against her husband in a great ecclesiastical court.' The principal charge against him was, that he was incapable of performing matrimonial rites, according to the law of nature. The depositions furnished great entertainment to the Gentlemen of the Long Robe.
It seems the lady was a widow, with a jointure of nine hundred pounds per annum, was in possession of a town and country-house, elegantly furnished, with an equipage, &c. Mr. S was a young man of small fortune, and plied the widow so closely, that she soon consented to give her hand in marriage. On the wedding-day they went with a number of friends to Salt Hill, in order to celebrate their nuptials : and on the lady retiring after supper, the bridegroom followed her, and, after great uneasiness, explained the coldness of his disposition; on which the lady declared, that as long as he behaved with politeness and good humour to her, she would never publish the secret he had trusted her with. About two years elapsed, during which time they to all appearance lived very happily, when Mr. S- , as it is said, began to use his wife with great neglect, and sometimes beat her; on which she discovered her situation to a relation, who advised her to apply for a divorce. Mr. S- denies her charge, and will submit to a scrutiny of the faculty.
Epistle from Lady Bridget , to Lady Bab
Butterfly, at York. You cannot imagine, my dear Lady Bab, How anxious I am all my budget to blab; But, lord, I could tell you a thousand times better, Than scribbling my thoughts, like a clerk in a letter: But when we're apart, there is no other means Of describing the vulgar, and St. James's scenes. Well then, to begin, my dear Bab, and be short; In the presence I was, when the m-y-r came to court; Ye gods! what a shame, that the scum of the earth Should dare to petition as people of birth !
Such a sight, my dear Bab, with their gowns and broad
faces, With their vile vulgar gaits, and their staves and their
maces: But, like owls in the sun, how our K- made them
blink! And then, my dear soul, how these creatures did stink! I declare, eau-de-luce hardly kept me from fainting ; A plague,' e'en in Turkey, was not half so tainting ; But the K- , my dear child, who is always so clear, Sent the wretches away with a flea in their ear. You know how I sigh'd for a prize in the lottery; But now all my sighs are turn'd round on the coterie: Between you and me, I'd lay twenty to seven, That many had rather go there than to heaven; It's the snuggest affair, and the pleasantest plan, For although with your husband-you may have a man; Do you know, though they've black-balld George
s n , and M- h, (That sweet Macaroni, so stiff and so starch) Their reasons I know not, but sure it is cruel; For of all our gay Lords, sure my Lord is the jewel. As for
S n , the creature has wit and good sense, Which to me, Lady Bab, is a horrid offence. What you lose, my dear creature, by not being in town!. Foote's open and Reynolds's paintings are shewn. Enchanting Vauxhall, where the dark walks, so snug, Afford me, at times, a dear kiss and a hug. Well, adieu, Lady Bab, for engagements are pressing; I dine at Almack's—and have not begun dressing; To reach the dear spot, I am all in a fidget, And beg to remain, Bab--your dear little
Dublin, August 27.-The Reverend and Worthy Dr. Jonathan Swift, Dean of St. Patrick's, is arrived safe from England, to the general joy of this city. On this occasion the bells of St. Patrick's, and other adjacent churches, were rung, and large bonfires made in the neighbouring streets. There was a very particular one made with a good number of flaming torches on the top of the steeple of his cathedral, which illuminated the whole town. And so grateful a sense do the people preserve of the merits of the author of the Drapier's Books against Wood's Brass Coin, that there is scarcely a street in town without a representation of him for a sign.
A letter from Chatham, dated Jan. 26.—The following odd affair you may depend upon to be authentic. This morning a person known by the name of Charles Waddell, belonging to his Majesty's ship Orford, was ordered to receive two dozen lashes for desertion ; but when tying up to the gangway, the culprit was discovered to be a woman. She confessed afterwards, she had travelled from Hull to London, after a man with whom she was in love; and hearing he had entered on board the Orford, at Chatham, she entered at the rendezvous in London, for the same ship, the 9th instant. On the 17th of this month. she came on board, and was looked upon as a very active young fellow; but finding that her sweetheart, who had entered for the above ship, was
run away, in consequence thereof, she deserted yesterday in pursuit of him ; but was taken up as a deserter on the London Road, and was brought again on board last night, where she was confined in irons; and this morning was to have received her punishment, but the discovery prevented it. She was immediately carried before Admiral Sir Peter Denis, who made her a present of half a guinea; Commissioner Hanway, and most of the officers of the yard, made her presents. She is about nineteen years of age.
Anecdote of the Honourable C. J. Fox, second son to Lord Holland. Some time before Lord Holland's trip to the continent, when the public defaulter was the general subject of conversation, as he, his lady, and second son were in the coach going to Holland House, my Lord asked his son jocosely, “ What the world thought of him."The other excused himself for some time, observing he might be angry with him if he told him the truth, which the other assured him he should not, let it be what it would :-" Why then, Sir, (says Mr. Fox,) they say there is not a greater r-e. unhanged.”—“ And pray, Sir, (returned the father, with great emotion,) where is your spirit to resent such an injury ?”? _“ My Lord,” (replied the son,) “ I should by no means want spirit to resent any injury offered to my father, as I look upon it the same as to myself; nor should any single person dare to mention it with impunity.