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AMUSING CHRONICLE, a Weekly Repository for

MISCELLANEOUS LITERATURE.

NO. VII.]

OCTOBER 31, 1816.

[VOL. I.

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Price only Four Pence.

: A CURIOUS INSTANCE OF INFLEXIBLE

VIRTUE.

IN the year 1526, James Lynch Fitz Stephen, merchant, being elected Mayor of Galway, in Ireland, sent his only son comman der of one of his ships to Bilboa in Spain, for a cargo of wine.-Former dealings at this place were the means of recommending the father's credit, which young Lynch took advantage of to secrete the money for his own use, which his father intrusted him. with for the purchase of the cargo. The Spaniard, who supplied him on this occasion, sent his nephew with him to Ireland, to receive the debt, and establish a further correspondence. The young men, who were much of an age, sailed together with that seeming satisfaction which congenial situations generally create among mankind. Open and generous, the Spaniard anticipated the pleasures which he should enjoy with such a friend, in a place then remarkable for qualities which we are now no longer to look for but in the narrative of other times. The ship proceeded on her voyage, and as every day must bring them nearer the place of destination, and discover the fraud intended by Lynch, he conceived the diabolical resolution of throwing his friend overboard. After sounding the sentiments of the hands on board, he brought the major part of them over to his purpose, by promise of reward, and the rest by fear. On the night of the fifth day, the unfortunate Spaniard was violently seized in his bed, and thrown overboard. A few days more brought them to port; his father and friends received him with joy, and in a short time bestowed a sufficient capital to set him up in business. Security had lulled everysense of danger, and he proposed terms for a beatiful girl, the daughter of a neighbour, in marriage. His terms were accepted, and the

Macpherson, Printer, Russell Court, Covent Garden.

day appointed, which was to crown his yet successful villainy, when one of the sailors who had been with him on the voyage to Spain, was taken ill, and finding himself at the point of death, sent for the father, and communicated a full relation of the horrid deed his son had committed on the high seas. The father, though struck speechless with astonishment and grief, at length shook off all the feelings which incline the parent to natural partiality. "Justice shall take its course," said the indignant magistrate; and he, within a few minutes, had his son seized with the rest of the crew, and threw them into prison. They all confessed the crime; a criminal process was made out against them, and in a few days a small town in the west of Ireland beheld a sight unparalleled by very few instances in the history of mankind,-a father sitting in judgment, like another Lucius Junius Brutus, on his son! and, like him too, condemning him to die as a sacrifice to public justice! If the Almighty looks down with pleasure on the virtues of mankind, here was an action worthy of approbation-a father consigning his son to an ignominious death, and tearing away all the bonds of paternal affection, where the laws of nature were violated, and justice demanded the blow! "Were any other but your wretched father your judge (said the inflexible magistrate), I might have dropped a tear over my child's misfortunes, and solicited for his life, though stained with murder-but you must die! These are the last drops which shall quench the sparks of nature-and if you dare hope, implore that Heaven may not shut the gates of mercy on the destroyer of his fellow-creature.

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He was led back to prison, and a short time appointed for his execution. Amazement sat on the face of every one within this little community, which at most did not consist of more than three thousand people. The relations of the unhappy culprit surrounded the father; they conjured him, by all the solicitudes of nature and compassion, to spare his son. His wretched mother, whose name was Blake, flew in distraction to the heads of her own family, and at length prevailed on them, for the honour of their house, to rescue her from the ignominy his death must bring on their name. They armed to deliver him from prison; when his father being informed of their intention, had him conveyed to his own house, which he surrounded with the officers of justice. He made the executioner fasten the rope to his neck:

You have little time to live, my son, said he let the care of your soul employ the few moments-take the last embrace of your unhappy father."-He ordered the rope to be well secured to a window, and compelled the constables to throw the body out a few minutes put an end to his existence.-Under the window, in Lombard-street, to this day, a skull and bones, carved in black marble, is to be seen, which the father put as a memento

mori. Succeeding times looked upon an act with astonishment, which the production of the arts in this country should perpetuate

with statues,

AUTHORSHIP AND COOKERY COMPARED.

THE resemblance between Cooks and Authors has been started by several ingenious Writers; and as there are continual variations in the culinary, as well as in the literary arts, new strokes of similitude between them may be pointed out, from time to time, by a sagacious investigation, from the garret to the kitchen; that is, from the Author to the Cook.

Cooks are often inflamed; so are Authors. Cooks sometimes burn their fingers, so do Authors, especially when they take into their heads, engaged in a hot service, to roast a Minister, and spit a Cooks live upon the fat of the land. Here, indeed, the progress of the resemblance is interrupted ;-as Authors may think themselves very well off to get as much of the lean of the land as will just serve to support existence. Cooksthat is, Cooks of condition are perpetually employed in disguising Nature; and by how many Authors in this merrymiserable Metropolis, is Nature every day, and most abominably disguised? Cooks garnish their dishes with natural, and Authors decorate their Dramas with artificial flowers.-Yet, after all the pains which our literary Cooks take to please the public Taste, they find it extremely difficult to make certain fastidious Critics, with very nice palates, heartily relish the banquet of the night. If all the ingredients, though they are ever so well mixed upon the whole, are not highly seasoned, the composition is damned; and the poor Author, perhaps is doomed to sup with the Devil, in the shape of a Bailiff, watching for the fate of his Farce.

ILL-NATURED WITTICISMS.

ILL-NATURED witticisms are often retorted upon those who make use of them. Madame de *****, who was famous at court for her bons-mots, was attacked by a young petit-maitre of high rank, with this question, "Pray, Madam, was not that fine gown given you by a gallant ?"-" No, my little fellow," replied the lady; you think you are talking to your mother.'

66

THE RING'S PETITION.

THE pledge of friendship (not of love)
Let me upon thy finger shine,-
May Hymen's bonds as lasting prove,
Yet be the links as light as mine.

And when I clasp thy taper finger,
(Which gayer rivals oft must share,)

One moment let thy mem'ry linger
Upon the friend who plac'd me there.

April, 1815.

ON WOMAN.

Without Woman our Infancy would be without succour, our Youth without pleasure, and our Agc without consolation.

IN infancy from Woman's breest,
We draw the food by nature giv❜n;
She lulls our childish pangs to rest,
And cheers us as a beam from Heav'n!

When Woman smiles-she has the pow'r,
To heal our griefs, to calm our fears;
Should sickness wound, should fortune low'r,
She shares our sorrows, dries our tears!

And she can sooth the cares

of age,

As rolls Time's furrowing course along ;
Can cheer us with the classic page,

Or lull us with the magic song.

When stretch'd upon the bed of Death,
Departing nature struggling lies;
At that dread pause, when the next breath
May waft our spirit to the skies.-

When the soul views the narrow verge
Close on the confines of the grave;-
And now it longs its flights to urge,
Now wishes for an arm to save.-

Who cheers that dreary scene of woe?

Who speaks of peace and joy, and love?
Who wipes the tear-drops as they flow ?--
'Tis Woman-sent from Heav'n above!

'Tis she receives our parting sigh,
'Tis she who hears our latest breath ;-
'Tis she who seals the closing eye,-

And whispers peace and hope in Death.

And when the mournful scene is past,
'Tis Woman weeps upon our bier ;-
Silent-yet long her sorrows last,-
Unseen she sheds affection's tear!

On Earth she is the truest friend,
That is to man in mercy giv'n;
And when this fleeting life shall end
She'll live for purer joys in Heav'n!

Oh! Woman! Woman! thou art made
Like Heav'n's own pure and lovely light,
A sun to cheer life's desert shade,

And gild the gloom of sorrow's night.

THE MAID OF ST. MARINO.

(Continued from Page 88.)

The Count then stepped forward, and entreated to be heard; but after condemnation he was not permitted. Taverini, who, for reasons which will hereafter appear, exulted most indecently over the fallen sufferer, was about to leave the court, and turning about for that purpose, found himself stopped by the entrance of several people, among whom was a lady close veiled. then sat down again, till the bustle should be subsided. Roderigo was not withdrawn, and the place remained crowded, when, on a signal from the judge, the new-comers were placed directly in front: a solemn stillness ensued.

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The Lady, slowly removing her veil, discovered the features of Juliana, Countess of Vanzenza. Amazement struck every one present; yet no one's astonishment equalled Taverini's. But what was his confusion, when the Countess, addressing that monster of iniquity, asked him if he remembered that countenance? [pointing to a person with whom she entered] and then added-Receive your Friend, Signor." So saying, she presented to his recollection a figure the most formidable to his imagination.

"Carlotti!" exclaimed Taverini, as he shrunk from this unwelcome appearance.

"Carlotti-yes!" returned the man. "You cannot have forgotten one to whom you have been so confessedly obliged!"

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