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bear a grudge at Glenbucket, because he had supported Macpherson, of Innerichie, in a law-suit, and carried it against him, came betwixt twelve and one at noon to Gordon Hall, Glenbucket's house. Four or five of them entered, leaving the rest by way of guard at the door. As Glenbucket advanced to receive and make them welcome, one of them drew his dirk, and stabbed him; but Glenbucket had the presence of mind to put it by a little, so that he was only wounded in the side. He reached immediately to his sword, and then he received three other wounds, upon which he fell, and they made off, thinking he was dead. Innerichie was with him at the time, and as soon as he saw them assault him, cryed out, For God's sake, spare the gentleman's life; upon which one of them took him by the neck, and threw down the old man with violence upon the ground. They had been at Ruthwen, a little village hard by, drinking, and it seems concerting their measures all the night, before they put their bloody design in exe-. cution.

On Saturday, about twelve o'clock, his Royal Highness the Duke of Cumberland entertained his company with the following diversion. A stag was inclosed by toils in his Royal Highness's paddock at Windsor, and one of his tigers let loose at him; the tiger attempted to seize the stag by the haunch, but was beat off by his horns; a second time he offered at his throat, and the stag

tossed him off again; a third time the tiger offered to seize him, but the stag threw him a considerable distance, and then followed him, on which the tiger turned tail, and run under the toil into the forest, among a herd of deer, one of which he seized, and killed him in a moment. Two Indians pursued him, and whilst sucking the blood, they threw over his head a sort of hood, which blinded him; they then put a collar round his neck, with chains, and after feeding him with part of the deer, led him away. The motions of the tiger were something like those of a cat, by creeping slowly on the ground till within reach of the prey, and then, by a spring, leaping at it.

Some time ago a lady waited upon a noble duke with a forged letter from the Earl of Hertford, Ambassador to the Court of France, recommending the bearer as a person of family and fortune to his protection, and requesting him to give her his assistance in conducting her affairs here. By means of this letter she was admitted to his grace, who received her with great politeness; but she repeating her visits frequently, and Lord Hertford not mentioning her in any other letter, his grace began to suspect a fraud, and ordered his servants, when she should call again, not to admit her. She called soon after, and was refused admittance, but she insisted upon seeing his grace, and having an absolute refusal from himself which the servant reporting to the nobleman, he

wrote her a note, signed with his name, desiring her not to trouble him any further with her visits.. A few days after, a Frenchman tendered for payment to the said nobleman a note, appearing to be under his hand, for 20,000l., saying he had advanced several thousand pounds upon the credit thereof; the Frenchman, however, has been secured, and is to take his trial at the ensuing sessions at the Old Bailey, on suspicion of fraud and forgery.

A wonderful little fairy man, very extraordinary in various changes of voice; he pleases the curious and astonishes the wise. This person has had the honour to perform before the royal family, and gave great satisfaction, which he does to all that see him. He is to be heard in Bridge-street, Surry, pastry sold in the shop, on Lambeth side.

The French company of comedians newly arrived from Paris, it is said, consists of seventy persons. It seems to be a little unnatural that French strollers should have a superior privilege to those of our own country; and it were to be wished, that these should meet with no more encouragement here than ours would in France, whose intrinsic merits are generally allowed to be not a jot inferior to those of the French.

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Ipswich, July 5.-Last Friday morning, Susan, the wife of John Guttridge, of Hadleigh, pen

sioner, was delivered by Mrs. Barnes, of three children; the two first that were born, a boy and girl, are joined together from the breast to the umbilical vessels. They died almost as soon as born; the other, a girl, lived about eight hours. They were very perfect in all their limbs. The twin children are in the possession of Mr. George Parsons, surgeon, at that place.

Newcastle, July 6.-We are informed from Cockermouth, that a few days ago a young woman in that neighbourhood walked 72 miles in one day, viz. from Blencogoe to within two or three miles of Newcastle.

The Gipsy Wanderer, a Ballad,

FOUNDED ON A REAL. OCCURRENCE.

"Twas night, and the farmer his fire-side near, O'er a pipe quaff'd his ale, stout and old;

The hinds were in bed, when a voice struck his ear, "Let me in, I beseech you!"-just so ran the pray'r— "Let me in!-I am dying with cold!"

To his servant, the farmer cried-" Sue, move thy feet,
And admit the poor wretch from the storm;

For our chimney will not lose a jot of its heat,
Although the night-wand'rer may there find a seat,
And, beside, our wood-embers grow warm."

VOL. J.

At that instant, a Gipsy girl, humble in pace,
Bent before him his pity to crave;

He, starting, exclaim'd, "Wicked fiend, quit this place!
A parent's curse light on the whole Gipsy race!
They have bow'd me almost to the grave!"

"Good Sir, as our tribe pass'd the church-yard below, I just paus'd the turf-graves to survey:

I fancied the spot where my mother lies low;
When suddenly came on a thick fall of snow,
And I know not a step of my way."

"This is craft," cried the farmer, "if I judge aright, I suspect thy curs'd gang may be near;

Thou would'st open the door to the ruffians of night; Thy eyes o'er the plunder now rove with delight, And on me with sly treach'ry leer."

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With a shriek on the floor, the young Gipsy girl fell;
Help,"
" cried Susan, "your child to uprear,
Your long-stolen child; she remembers you well;
And the terrors and joys in her bosom which swell,
Are too mighty for nature to bear."

FALCONER.

The Peasant's Sleep.

Sweet is the peasant's sleep!
Sweet, if by toil he earn his bread:
He knows not half the care and dread

Which agitate the rich man's mind,
And make him watch and weep;

But casting sorrow to the wind,
Sweet is the peasant's sleep!

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