committed upon the high seas properly, though at but a few leagues distance from Boston, deserves to be mentioned; if for no other reason, for the unparalleled cruelty and inhumanity of the fact; but there were, besides, circumstances attending the prosecution and trial, which show the prejudices of party in a very strong light. "In the autumn of 1772, the crew of a small fishing schooner, and one passenger in her, sailed from Boston, bound to Chatham, a harbour on the back of Cape Cod. The next morning she was discovered between the harbour and the island of Nantucket, having nobody on board but the passenger, who made a signal of distress, and who gave an account, that, after leaving Boston, the vessel was boarded in the evening by a large boat, rowed with twelve oars, which came from an armed schooner lying to at a distance; that the boat's crew had murdered the whole company of the fishing vessel, consisting of three men and a boy, had plundered the vessel, and then left her, with her helm lashed, and her sails standing, and properly trimmed; that the passenger, supposing it to be a boat from one of the king's schooners, and that he should be impressed, had concealed himself, by hanging by his hands over the tafferel, and that, when the boat left the fishing vessel, he returned within board, and, as soon as the large schooner was out of sight, made sail and stood out to sea. There was much blood upon deck, and traces of blood which had run out at the scuppers, and marks of plunder, by broken boxes, stove casks, &c. The fishing vessel being carried into harbour, the passenger was examined by a justice of peace, who gave so much credit to his story as to suffer him to go at large, but thought it necessary to send a copy of his examination to the governor at Boston. Some were ready enough to charge the piracy and murder to a king's schooner, then expected from Rhode Island, and it was suggested that the crew might have risen upon the com mander and officers, and have become pirates. The admiral thought fit to send out one of the king's ships to cruise, which returned in eight or ten days withont any discovery. Every part of the passenger's ac count appeared to the governor incredible, and, as a commissioner for the trial of piracies, &c. he issued a warrant to apprehend him, and bring him to Boston, and, after examination, committed him to prison for trial. A special court of vice-admiralty was soon after held in Boston, at which the prisoner was brought upon trial for the murder of the persons who, as was proved upon the fullest evidence, sailed in the vessel with him from Boston; but the counsel for the prisoner moving for further time, and urging that intelligence might probably be obtained of a pirate schooner having been in the bay, and it appearing that a large armed schooner sailed from Boston, bound to the coast of Guinea, at the same time with the fishing vessel, the court thought proper to adjourn the trial for six months. "Before this time expired, the governor had received from the secretary of state the opinion of the attorney and solicitor-general, taken ten years before, upon the construction of the statute of king William for trial of piracies, &c. in America. And although jurisdiction was given in piracies, robberies, and other 'felonies,' yet, according to this opinion, murder, being a 'felony' of a higher nature than piracy, was not a 'felony' intended by the statute. It therefore became necessary to send the prisoner to England for trial there; or to try him in America for the 'piracy' only; or, otherwise, to discharge him. It was not practicable to have the evidence in England, necessary to conviction. He was therefore charged with the piracy only; but the advocate-general hav ing set forth, in the libel, the murder of the four persons on board, as perpetrated by him in order to the pi ratical taking and carrying away the vessel and goods- the offence for of 1 which he was brought upon trial,four of the eight judges who constituted the court, were of opinion that the crimes of murder and piracy were so blended together in the libel, as that, by convicting the prisoner of the one, they must convict him of the other also the president and three other judges were of a contrary opinion, but not being the majority of the court, the prisoner escaped the punishment due to murder, greatly aggravated by circumstances attending it, three of the persons being near relations of the prisoner, and the other a boy, who seemed to have been killed, only to prevent discovery; the temptation to the act being the obtaining of the money which the crew had received at Boston, for the earnings of their vessel the year preceding. "In common times, where there are violent marks of guilt of so horrid a crime, there is danger of prejudice so strong as not to admit of the weight justly due to circumstances which might tend to favour the person charged with being the perpetrator; but the prejudice arising from civil discord seems to predominate over all other prejudices to which the mind of man is liable. "From the first knowledge of the account given by the prisoner, that the crew of a boat from a large schooner had committed the act, some of the heads of the sons of liberty took part with him, and professed to make no doubt of its being a man of war schooner; and the governor was charged in the public prints with too critical and severe an examination of the prisoner, whose innocence, it was said, would appear. He was often visited in prison by some of the most active persons in opposition; and the people were taught, that, although pirates had been tried by a special court of admiralty, in this and other colonies, for fourscore years together, they had, nevertheless, been all this time deprived of the rights of Englishmen, a trial by jury, and brought upon trial before a court consisting wholly of crown officers, and many of them employed in the colonies for unconstitutional and oppressive purposes. And there was too great an appearance of a pleasing satisfaction, from the prisoner's having escaped punishment of a murder, which may be ranked among the most atrocious ever committed." 417-422. p. In conclusion, we recommend the History of Massachusetts Bay" to every person in England and America, who feels an interest in the cause of Freedom, convinced that, whatever may have been the opinions of the writer, the work cannot fail to be productive of unmixed good. THE MOTHER'S LAMENT. My child, my child, how couldst thou fade Oh, God! that death should even make Like dew upon the withering flower Oh no, such radiance in those eyes, I might have seen, I might have felt 45 ATHENEUM, VOL. 9, 2d series. I might have mark'd in beauty's height I might have known, I might have felt, But oh! I never would believe, I would not think those smiling lips And oh! my child, years, years have flown, And life's decay is mine, And many a sun hath bow'd beneath Affection's hallow'd shrine. Yet still, when blithest soars the song Of thy sad funeral hour! my child! And oft alone, in eve's sweet calm, With raptured gaze on high, But no! ah no, I gaze in vain, THE DREAMER. BY MRS. HEMANS. There is no such thing as forgetting possible to the mind; a thousand accidents may, and will, interpose a veil between our present consciousness and the secret inscriptions on the mind; but alike, whether veiled or unveiled, the inscription remains for ever.—English Opium-eater. REST from thy griefs!-thou art sleeping now; The moonlight's peace is upon thy brow: All the deep love that o'erflows thy breast Lies, 'midst the hush of thy heart, at rest; Like the scent of a flower in its folded bell, When Eve through the woodlands hath sighed farewell. Rest! the sad memories that through the day With a weight on thy lonely bosom lay; The sudden thoughts of the changed and dead, Are they forgotten? It is not so! Slumber divides not our hearts from their woe; On thy parted lips there's a quivering thrill, On the long silk lashes that fringe thine eye It is Thought, at work amidst busied hours; They forget not, the mantle of sleep beneath- THE FASHIONABLE VISITING. HERE is nothing in the world more wonderful than the pains which people take to make themselves uncomfortable. The desire displays itself in a thousand ways, in the stiff stocks and tight boots of the gentlemen, and in the still tighter stays of the ladies. But in no instance is this strange passion more conspicuous than in the VISITING SYSTEM of modern times. A man marries, and takes a comfortable house in Spring Gardens,-one would suppose his object was to live there quietly and happily-to devote his mornings to the occupations which require his attention-to take a walk through the parks before dinner, and to spend the evening quietly and tranquilly at home. Nothing of the kind. He has scarcely lived long enough in his new habitation to find the way out of the drawing-room in the dark, when his lady thus addresses him" I think, my dear Frederick, that it is quite time for us to see some of our friends: we shall really be reckoned quite rude. I met my old Irish friend, Lady Killcomfort, yesterday in the Park, and she complained that she had seen nothing of us since we came to town. My cousins, the B's, too, are staying in Harley-street, and we must really have them. Then I told Capt. and Mrs. Tattleton, whom we met at the Opera on Saturday, that I hoped very soon to see them in Spring Gardens. Shall I send out a few cards ?" are mistaken. On Monday we dine with General D'Escalade; on Tuesday, I have promised Amelia to take her to the Opera; on Wednesday, Lady Killcomfort gives her fancyball, (you know you said I should go as Psyche, Frederick); on Thursday, we are invited to a concert at Lord Braham's; and, on Friday, you know, my dear Frederick, you consented that I should give my first ball." "Did I, my Caroline ?" murmurs the languid, loving husband: "well, I suppose we must defer our visit to the country." The week passes on-the General's dinner is superb-Amelia is delighted with Medea-Psyche looks more lovely than her beautiful prototype-Lord Braham exceeds himself, and even "the ancients" burn with envy-and at last arrives the eventful day of the "first ball." Annoyed with the sound of hammers, and the perpetual tramp of upholsterers and their assistants, the wretched master of the house (if, indeed, he can any longer be so called,) quits the little study in which he had The unfortunate object of this ad- taken refuge, and saunters through dress, of course, grants an immediate the town for want of a home. He assent; and on that day three weeks returns to dinner; he walks into the Mrs. is 66 at home" to one hun- drawing-rooms; they are denuded of dred and fifty of her friends. The their carpets, and two of Greensill's fatal war of extermination (the exter- men are fixing a magnificent chandemination of all domestic tranquillity,) lier. He seeks the dining-room; it is now commenced. In revenge for is filled with horse-shoe tables, and dragging them from their peaceful a splendid cold supper. He asks homes, and exposing them to the suf- where he is to dine, and is told there focation of your crowded rooms, the is some cold meat in the servants'parties injured invite you in return, hall. He retreats into his little study: and compel you (deserting the com- his books are covered with crimson fortable sofa, by your own fire-side,) drapery, and the scholar's peaceful to go through the same dreadful pro- habitation is converted into a flirtingcess. Engagement succeeds engage- room, hung round with a hundred ment, till, in the height of the sea- pretty prints of " the Proposal," "the son, the system reaches its climax. Acceptance," "the Love-Letter," "Would you like, my love," says and "the Forsaken." The hour arthe dispirited husband, "to visit the rives, and the crowds assemble. country for a week or two: suppose People whom he has half seen, and we set off on Monday ?" "I should whom he has never seen, fill his like it very well; but I fear our en- rooms till they overflow into the galgagements will not permit it." "Ilery, and cluster on the stairs. The thought," replies the sighing husband, "that we had no engagements for next week." "Indeed, I fear you torrent increases, and the terrified husband seeks his wife. "My dear love," he whispers," how many peo ple do you expect? Our rooms are quite full already." "To tell you the truth," she replies, "I have in vited three hundred, expecting that only two-thirds of them would come; but I declare I think they are all here already. But never mind, my dear Frederick, it is going off very well.-Count Altenberg! I am very glad to see you. My dear Mrs. Percy, how do you do? When did you leave the Hills? Mr. Alfred Percy has just passed. When did you hear from Capt. Percy? We expect Lady Jane Greville to-night; but I have not yet seen her." Delighted and delightful, the lady of the house thus shines with undiminished brilliancy through the evening, while her unfortunate husband is sighing at the recollection of his formerly peaceful hearth. Oh the misery of a great dinner! Having survived the dreadful interval between your first arrival, and "dinner is on the table," you are desired to hand the Dowager Lady O'Flaherty down stairs. Seated between her Ladyship and the senior Alderman of Farringdon Without, what a situation is yours! As you sit down the dreadful conviction flashes across your mind, that you are imprisoned, without the slightest chance of being let out on bail, for the full term of four hours. In vain do you direct your attention and conversation to the Dowager Lady O'Flaherty. There is no sympathy between you -no common of talk"-no "debateable land." You have never visited Ballyslattery; to you the Phoenix Park is a mere sound; and even Merrion-square conveys not the definite ideas of magnificence, with which her ladyship desires to impress you. On your other side, the prospect is still darker. Before you have exchanged five words with the Alderman, you are involved in the history of the new "Joint-stock Carrion Company," and you suspect, with horror, that you are seated next to a member of Butchers' Hall. Having impartially bestowed your common places on your right hand and on your left, there is no other refuge than silence, and in sulky taciturnity, you 66 cram and blaspheme your feeder." With what feelings of bitter regret do you think upon the fried sole and boiled leg of mutton of yesterday, which you enjoyed in the freedom and obscurity of your own little dining-room, far-far removed from all dowagers and aldermen! What inward vows do you make, that, when once released from your present odious thraldom, you will never in future subject yourself to it again. But no; the world will have its martyrs; fresh invitations are given and accepted, and the hateful system is continued to the last. Surely, in no country was that system ever carried to such a ruinous excess as in ours. We are never satisfied unless we entertain, in a handsomer manner than our neighbours, and find at our tables, persons in whom it is a condescension to appear there. "Men would be angels, angels would be gods." Mr. A. rests not till Sir B. C. promises to dine with him; and Sir B. C. insists upon entertaining Lord D. His Lordship is uneasy till the Duke of E. pays him his long-promised Christmas visit; and his Grace of E., in the last resort, petitions for the countenance of royalty. For distinctions like these will people sacrifice their time, and their money, and their independence, led on by the powerful passion of making themselves uncomfortable. What should a sensible man do? Take the oath of abjuration. Abjure, renounce, deny, and detest, as utterly abominable and uncomfortable, all great dinners, evening parties, routs, riots, and other unlawful assemblies. When he wants to see his friends at his own house, let him invite a party of four, or (at most) of six, to dinner. If he wishes to see his friends at their houses, let him make them do the same. Let him never permit his wife to be "at home," for she is never less at home, than when at home." Let him pay off Chiffonier and Squab, the upholsterers. Let him cut Lady 66 |