EXTRACTS 
 
 I I. 
 
 \ND 
 
 BANDITTI ADVENTU 
 
 } [\ 
 
THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND 
 
 MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID 
 



Digitized by tine Internet Archive 
 
 in 2007 with funding from 
 
 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/extractsfromvariOOtwoprich 
 
EXTRACTS AND BANDITTI 
 ADVENTURE. 
 
 fi^^=xm^^ 
 
EXTRACTS FROiM VARIOUS 
 
 AUTHORS, 
 
 AND A LETTER DETAILING A FATAL 
 
 BANDITTI ADVENTURE IN 
 
 ASIA MINOR IN 
 
 1845. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRIVATELY PRINTED AT THE 
 
 CHISWICK PRESS. 
 
 1868. 
 
T?3 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 HE reason for printing this volume, 
 for private distribution, cannot be 
 better explained, than by the re- 
 quest made in the following letter from the 
 Duchess Dowager of Norfolk. 
 
 " Sunday. 
 
 " Dear Mr. T. 
 
 Last night I was reading some of the Ex- 
 tracts you have bestowed on me, and the occu- 
 pation brought more vividly than ever, before, a 
 plan of multiplying them by printing, if I can get 
 your leave to do it. It would be a pity to waste 
 your time and kindness on a single copy. I would 
 
 !0>i r\^ £^M^ 
 
vi Preface. 
 
 deliver into your hands as many as you chose, if 
 you would give the permission and the name, and 
 advise me how to proceed in doing it. 
 
 " Most truly obliged, 
 
 " C. Norfolk. 
 
 "Nov. 22, 1868." 
 
 For the arrangement of the contents of this 
 volume, and a few short notes, to which I 
 have put my initials, I alone am answer- 
 able. 
 
 Wm. Twopeny. 
 
 48, upper Grosvenor Street^ 
 December^ 1868. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 I. 
 
 II. 
 
 III. 
 
 IV. 
 
 V. 
 
 VI. 
 
 VII. 
 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 
 XI. 
 
 XII. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 The Translators of the Bible to the Reader. 
 
 Barrow, — "Of the Duty of Thanksgiving" . 
 
 Barrow, — " Not to Offend in Word, an Evidence 
 of a high pitch of Virtue "... 
 
 Barrow, — "A Defence of the Blessed Trinity" 
 
 Barrow,— "Of Faith" 
 
 Barrow, — " The Being of God proved from the 
 Frame of Human Nature "... 
 
 Barrow, — " The Being of God proved from Super- 
 natural Effects " 
 
 Barrow, — " Maker of Heaven and Earth " . 
 
 Barrow, — " Of the Excellency of the Christian Re 
 ligion" 
 
 Barrow, — "The Reasonableness and Equity of 
 a Future Judgment " . . . 
 
 Swift on Sleeping in Church 
 
 Dr. Johnson and Sir Thomas Browne . 
 
 Sir Thomas Browne on Dreams 
 
 Journal of Edward Browne, Son of Sir Thomas 
 Browne 
 
 Page 
 
 I 
 6 
 
 8 
 13 
 15 
 
 18 
 
 20 
 
 22 
 
 25 
 
 30 
 33 
 35 
 38 
 
 39 
 
viii Contents. 
 
 Page 
 
 XV. Henderson and Bishop Heber . . . .40 
 
 XVI. End of Bothwell's Career 42 
 
 XVII. Poisoning of John, Fifteenth Earl of Sutherland 47 
 
 XVIII. Rebellion of 1745. — Flora Macdonald . . 53 
 
 XIX. Fatal Banditti Adventure in Asia Minor, 1845 58 
 
I. 
 
 THE TRANSLATORS OF THE BIBLE TO THE 
 READER.^ 
 
 UT it is high time to shew in briefe 
 what we proposed to ourselves, and 
 what course we helde in this our peru- 
 sall and survay of the Bible. Truly 
 (good Christian Reader) we never thought from the 
 beginning, that we should need to make a new 
 Translation, nor yet to make of a bad one a good 
 one, (for then the imputation of Sixties had bin 
 
 * Folio. Robert Barker : London, i6 13. 
 
 When the edition of D'Oyly and Mant's Bible was pub- 
 lished, (4to. Cambridge, 1 823,) the address of the Translators 
 to the Reader, an extract from which is here given, was sepa- 
 rately printed of the same size, by some Publisher, for those 
 to purchase who desired it. In that impression, the words 
 which in the edition 1613 are "whey instead of milke," are, 
 " wheal instead of milke." Wheal is whey heated scalding 
 hot to take off the curds. — Richardson's Did. — W. T. 
 
2 Translators of the Bible 
 
 true in some sort, that our people had bene fed 
 with gall of Dragons instead of wine, with whey 
 instead of milke :) but to make a good one better, 
 or out of many good ones, one principal good one, 
 not justly to be excepted against : that hath bene 
 our endeavour, that our marke. To that purpose 
 there were many chosen, that were greater in other 
 mens eyes then in their owne, and that sought the 
 truth rather then their own praise. Againe, they 
 came or were thought to come to the worke, not 
 exerceiidi caicsci (as one saith) but exercitati^ that is, 
 learned, not to learne ; for the chiefe overseer and 
 ef7o^»a;«T))f under his Majestie, to whom not only we, 
 but also our whole Church was much bound, knew 
 by his wisdome, which thing also Nazianzen taught 
 so long agoe, that it is a preposterous order to teach 
 first and to learne after, yea that to h 9r/5w n^aixiav 
 fxavOavsiv, to learne and practise together, is neither 
 commendable for the workeman nor safe for the 
 worke. Therefore such were thought upon, as 
 could say modestly with Saint Hierome^ Et He- 
 h'CEiim Sernionem ex parte didicimiis, et in Latino 
 penk ab ipsis incunabulis, &e. detriti sumus. Both we 
 Jiave learned the Hebrew tongue hi part, ajid i7i the 
 Latine we havebeene exercised almost from our verie 
 cradle. S. Hierome maketh no mention of the 
 Greeke tonge, wherein yet hee did excell, because 
 hee translated not the olde Testament out of 
 Greeke, but out of Hebrew. And in what sort did 
 these assemble .'' In the trust of their owne know- 
 
to the Reader, 3 
 
 ledge, or of their sharpenesse of wit, or deepcnesse 
 of judgement, as it were an arme of flesh? At no 
 hand. They trusted in him that hath the key of 
 Davidy opening and no man shutting ; they prayed 
 to the Lord, the Father of our Lord, to the effect 
 that S. Augustine did; O let thy Scriptures be my 
 pure delight^ let me not be deceived in them^ neit/ter 
 let me deceive by them. In this confidence, and with 
 this devotion did they assemble together ; not too 
 many, lest one should trouble another, and yet 
 many, lest many things haply might escape them. 
 If you aske what they 'had before them, truely it 
 was the Hebrew text of the Olde Testament, the 
 Greeke of the New. These are the two golden 
 pipes, or rather conduits, where-through the olive 
 branches emptie themselves into the golde. Saint 
 Angustine calleth them precedent, or originall 
 tongues ; Saint Hieronie^ fountaines. The same 
 Saint Hierome affirmeth, and Gratian hath not 
 spared to put it into his Decree, That as the credit 
 of the olde Bookes (he meaneth of the Old Testa- 
 ment) is to bee tryed by the Hebrewe Volumes^ so of 
 tJie Newe by the Greeke tonguCy he meaneth by the 
 originall Greeke. If truth be to be tried by these 
 tongues, then whence should a Translation be 
 made, but out of them } These tongues therefore, 
 the Scriptures wee say in those tongues, wee set 
 before us to translate, being the tongues wherein 
 God was pleased to speake to his Church by his 
 Prophets and Apostles. Neither did we run over 
 
4 Translators of the Bible 
 
 the worke with that posting haste that the Sep- 
 tuagint did, if that be true which is reported of 
 them, that thay finished it in 72 dayes ; neither 
 were we barred or hindered from going over it 
 againe, having once done it, hke S. Hierome, if that 
 be true which himselfe reporteth, that he could no 
 sooner write anything, but presently it was caught 
 from him, and published, and he could not have 
 leave to mend it ; neither, to be short, were we the 
 first that fell in hand with translating the Scripture 
 into English, and consequently destitute of former 
 helpes, as it is written of Origeft, that hee was the 
 first in a maner, that put his hand to write com- 
 mentaries upon the Scriptures, and therefore no 
 marveile, if he overshot himselfe many times. None 
 of these things : the worke hath not bene hudled 
 up in 72 dayes, but hath cost the workemen, as 
 light as it seemeth, the paines of twise seven times 
 seventie-two dayes and more : matters of such 
 weight and consequence are to bee speeded with 
 maturitie : for in a businesse of moment a man 
 feareth not the blame of convenient slacknesse. 
 Neither did wee thinke much^ to consult the Trans- 
 lators or Commentators, Chaldee, Hebrewe, Syrian, 
 Greeke or Laiine, no nor the Spanish, French, 
 Italian, or Dutch; neither did we disdaine to re- 
 vise that which we had done, and to bring backe to 
 -the anvill that which we had hammered ; but having 
 
 ^ /. e. " think it much trouble."— W. T. 
 
to the Reader, 
 
 and using as great helpes as were needfull, and 
 fearing no reproche for slownesse, nor coveting 
 praise for expedition, wee have at the length, 
 through the good hand of the Lord upon us, 
 brought the worke to that passe that you see." 
 
II. 
 
 barrow's second sermon, "of the duty of 
 thanksgiving." ^ 
 
 HEN we contemplate the wonderful 
 works of nature, and, walking about 
 at our leisure, gaze upon the ample 
 theatre of the world, considering the 
 stately beauty, constant order, and sumptuous fur- 
 niture thereof ; the glorious splendour and uniform 
 motion of the heavens ; the pleasant fertility of the 
 earth ; the curious figure and fragrant sweetness of 
 plants ; the exquisite frame of animals ; and all 
 other amazing miracles of nature, wherein the 
 glorious attributes of God (especially his tran- 
 scendent goodness) are most conspicuously dis- 
 played ; (so that by them not only large acknow- 
 ledgments, but even gratulatory hymns, as it were, 
 of praise have been extorted from the mouths of 
 
 ' " The Sermons of Barrow display a strength of mind, 
 a comprehensiveness and fertility which have rarely been 
 equalled." — Hallam, Literature of Europe, — W. T. 
 
Duty of Thanksgiving. 7 
 
 Aristotle, Pliny, Galen, and such like men, never 
 suspected guilty of an excessive devotion ;) then 
 should our hearts be affected with thankful sense, 
 and our lips break forth into his praise." 
 
III. 
 
 barrow's sermon, *' NOT TO OFFEND IN WORD, 
 
 AN EVIDENCE OF A HIGH PITCH 
 
 OF VIRTUE." 
 
 PEECH is indeed the rudder that 
 steereth human affairs, the spring that 
 setteth the wheels of action on going ; 
 the hands work, the feet walk, all the 
 members and all the senses act by its direction and 
 impulse ; yea, most thoughts are begotten, and most 
 affections stirred up thereby: it is itself most of our 
 employment, and what we do beside it, is however 
 guided and moved by it. It is the profession and 
 trade of many, it is the practice of all men, to be 
 in a manner continually talking. The chief and 
 most considerable sort of men manage all their 
 concernments merely by words ; by them princes 
 rule their subjects, generals command their armies, 
 senators deliberate and debate about the great 
 matters of state ; by them advocates plead causes, 
 and judges decide them ; divines perform their 
 offices, and minister their instructions ; merchants 
 
Not to offend in Word. 9 
 
 strike up their bargains, and drive on all their 
 traffick. Whatever almost great or small is done in 
 the court or in the hall, in the church or at the 
 exchange, in the school or in the shop, it is the 
 tongue alone that doeth it : it is the force of this 
 little machine that turneth all the human world 
 about. It is,. indeed, the use of this strange organ 
 which rendereth human life, beyond the simple life 
 of other creatures, so exceedingly various and 
 compounded ; which creates such a multiplicity of 
 business, and which transacts it ; while by it we 
 communicate our secret conceptions, transfusing 
 them into others ; while therewith we instruct and 
 advise one another ; while we consult about what 
 is to be done, contest about right, dispute about 
 truth ; while the whole business of conversation, of 
 commerce, of government, and administration of 
 justice, of learning, and of religion, is managed 
 thereby ; yea, while it stoppeth the gap of time, 
 and filleth up the wide intervals of business, our 
 recreations and divertisements (the which do con- 
 stitute a great portion of our life) mainly consisting 
 therein, so that, in comparison thereof, the execu- 
 tion of what we determine and all other action do 
 take up small room : and even all that usually de- 
 pendeth upon foregoing speech, which persuadeth, 
 or counselleth, or commandeth it. Whence the 
 province of speech being so very large, it being so 
 universally concerned, either immediately as the 
 matter, or by consequence as the source of our 
 
 c 
 
I o Not to offend in Word, 
 
 actions, he that constantly governeth it well may 
 justly be esteemed to live very excellently." 
 
 After referring, in a later passage, to those who 
 speak "blasphemously against God, or reproach- 
 fully concerning religion, or to the disgrace of piety, 
 with intent to subvert men's faith in God or to 
 impair their reverence of him," Barrow proceeds : 
 "This of all impieties is the most prodigiously 
 gigantic, the most signal practice of enmity to- 
 wards God, and downright waging of war against 
 heaven. Of all weapons formed against God, the 
 tongue most notoriously doth impugn him ; for 
 we cannot reach heaven with our hands, or imme- 
 diately assault God by our actions : other ill prac- 
 tices indeed obliquely, or by consequence dishonour 
 God, and defame goodness ; but profane discourse 
 is directly levelled at them, and doth immediately 
 touch them, as its formal objects. Now, doing thus 
 argueth an extremity both of folly and naughti- 
 ness ; for he that doeth it, either believeth the 
 existence of God, and the truth of religion ; or he 
 distrusts them. If he doth believe them, what a 
 desperate madness is it in him, advisedly to invite 
 certain mischief to his home, and pull down heaviest 
 vengeance on his own head, by opposing the irre- 
 sistible power, and invoking the inflexible justice 
 of God!" After further observations on him who 
 so acting yet believes, Barrow proceeds to him who 
 distrusts : " If he cannot believe in God, he may 
 let them alone who do : if he will not practise reli- 
 
Not to offend in Word, 1 1 
 
 gion, he may forbear to persecute it. He cannot 
 pretend any zeal ; it is therefore only pride that 
 moves him to disturb us. So may every man with 
 all the reason in the world complain against the 
 profane talker. Seeing also it is most evident, that 
 hearty reverence of God, and a conscientious regard 
 to religion, do produce great benefits to mankind, 
 being indeed the main supports of common honesty 
 and sobriety, the sole curbs, effectually restraining 
 men from unjust fraud and violence, from brutish 
 lusts and passions ; since apparently religion pre- 
 scribeth the best rules, and imposeth the strongest 
 engagements to the performer of those actions, 
 whereby not only men's private welfare is pro- 
 moted, and ordinary conversation is sweetened, and 
 common life is adorned, but also whereby public 
 order and peace are maintained ; since, as Cicero 
 with good reason judgeth, * piety being removed, it 
 is probable that justice itself (of all virtues the 
 best guarded and fortified by human power) ' could 
 not subsist, no faith could be secured, no society 
 could be preserved among men ;' it being mani- 
 festly vain to fancy, that assuredly without religious 
 conscience any one will be a good subject, a true 
 friend, or an honest man ; or that any other con- 
 sideration can induce men to prefer duty to their 
 prince, the prosperity of their country, fidelity to- 
 wards their friends or neighbours, before their own 
 present interests and pleasure ; since, I say, the 
 credit of religion is so very beneficial and useful to 
 
1 2 Not to offend in Word, 
 
 mankind, it is plain that he must be exceedingly- 
 spiteful and malicious, who shall by profane dis- 
 course endeavour to supplant or shake it. He that 
 speaketh against God's providence hath assuredly 
 a pique at goodness, and would not have it pre- 
 dominant in the hearts of men. He that disparages 
 religion doth certainly take his aim against virtue, 
 and would not have it practised in the world ; his 
 meaning plainly is, to effect, if he can, that men 
 should live like beasts in foul impurities, or like 
 fiends in mischievous iniquities. Such an one 
 therefore is not to be taken as a simple embracer 
 of error, but as a spiteful designer against common 
 good. For, indeed, were any man assured (as none 
 can upon so much as probable grounds think it) 
 that religion had been only devised by men, as a 
 supplemental aid to reason and force, (drawing 
 them, whom the one could not persuade, nor the 
 other compel, to the practice of things conducible 
 to the public weal ;) that it were merely an imple- 
 ment of policy, or a knack to make people loyal to 
 their prince, upright in their dealings, sober in their 
 conversations, moderate in their passions, virtuous 
 in all their doings ; it were yet a most barbarous 
 naughtiness and inhumanity in him to assay the 
 overthrow thereof, with the defeating so excellent 
 purposes : he that should attempt it, justly would 
 deserve to be reputed an enemy to the welfare of 
 mankind, to be treated as a pestilent disturber of 
 the world." 
 
IV. 
 
 barrow's sermon, "a defence of the 
 blessed trinity."^ 
 
 HAT there is one Divine Nature or 
 Essence, common unto three Persons, 
 incomprehensibly united, and ineffably 
 distinguished ; united in essential attri- 
 butes, distinguished by peculiar idioms and rela- 
 tions ; all equally infinite in every perfection, each 
 different from other in order and manner of sub- 
 sistence ; that there is mutual inexistence of one 
 in all, and all in one ; a communication without 
 any deprivation or diminution in the communicant ; 
 an eternal generation, and an eternal procession, 
 without precedence or succession, without proper 
 causality or dependence ; a Father imparting his 
 own, and a Son receiving his Father's life, and a 
 Spirit issuing from both, without any division or 
 multiplication of essence ; these are notions which 
 
 * " The Trinity," says South, " is a fundamental article of 
 the Christian religion ; and as he that denies it may lose his 
 soul, so he that too much strives to understand it, may lose 
 his wits."— W. T. 
 
14 A Defence of the Blessed Trinity. 
 
 may well puzzle our reason in conceiving how they 
 agree, but should not stagger our faith in assenting 
 that they are true ; upon which we should meditate, 
 not with hope to comprehend, but with disposition 
 to admire, veiling our faces in the presence, and 
 prostrating our reason at the feet of wisdom so far 
 transcending us." 
 
V. 
 barrow's sermon, "of faith.'* 
 
 ARROW, in his Second Sermon " Of 
 Faith," after showing that it is "the 
 root of all contentedness and all pa- 
 tience ; a just indifference and uncon- 
 cernedness about all things here ; that it alone can 
 untack our minds and affections from this world, 
 rearing our souls from earth and fixing them in 
 heaven," &c. &c. proceeds thus : " But you will 
 perhaps interpose and say : These are indeed fine 
 sayings, but where do such effects appear ? Who, 
 I pray, doth practise according to these notions ? 
 Where is that gallant to be found, who doth work 
 so great exploits ? Where may we discern that 
 height of piety, that tenderness of charity, that 
 meek comportment with injuries and affronts, that 
 clear sincerity, that depth of humility, that strict- 
 ness of temperance, that perfect contentedness and 
 undisturbed calmness of mind, that stoutness of 
 courage and stiffness of patience, which you talk 
 of as the undoubted issues of faith ? Who is the 
 man that with such glee doth hug afflictions, or 
 
t6 Of Faith. 
 
 biddeth adversity so welcome to his home ? Where 
 dwell they, who so little regard this world, or so 
 much affect the other ? Do we not see men run as 
 if they were wild after preferment, wealth, and 
 pleasure ? What do they else, but scrape and 
 scramble and scuffle for these things ? Doth not 
 every man moan the scantness of his lot, doth not 
 every man flinch at any trouble, doth not every 
 one with all his might strive to rid himself of any 
 thing disgustful to his sense or fancy? Are not, 
 therefore, such encomiums of faith mere specula- 
 tions, or brave rhodomontades of divinity? The 
 objection, I confess, is a shrewd one ; but I must 
 reply to it : You say, where are such effects, where 
 are such men ? I ask then. Where is faith, where 
 are believers ? Shew me the one, and I will shew 
 you the other : if such effects do not appear, it is 
 no argument that faith cannot produce them, but a 
 sign that faith is wanting ; as if a tree doth not put 
 forth in due season, we conclude the root is dead ; 
 if a fountain yield no streams, we suppose it dried 
 up. Shew me, saith St. James, thy faith by thy 
 works ; implying, that if good works do not shine 
 forth in the conversation, it is suspicious there is no 
 true faith in the heart ; for such faith is not a feeble 
 weening, or a notion swimming in the head, it is 
 not a profession issuing from the mouth, it is not 
 following such a garb, or adhering to such a party, 
 but a persuasion fixed in the heart, by firm resolu- 
 tion, by lively sense ; it is with the heart, as St. 
 
Of Faith. 17 
 
 Paul saith, man bdicvcth unto righteonsftess ; that 
 is the faith we speak of, and to which we ascribe 
 the production of so great and worthy effects ; if 
 a man wanteth that, attested by practice suitable, 
 though he know all the points exactly, though he 
 will readily sdiy Amen to every article of the Creed, 
 though he wear all the badges of a Christian, 
 though he frequent the congregations, and comply 
 with the forms of our religion, yet is he really an 
 infidel ; for is he not an infidel who denieth God ? 
 and is he not such a renegado who liveth impiously ? 
 he is so in St. Paul's account ; for, They profess^ 
 saith he of such persons, that they know God, but in 
 works they deny Him : and. He is 7iot a yew, saith 
 the same apostle, (he is not a Christian, may we by 
 parity of reason affirm,) who is one outwardly ; but 
 he is a Christian who is one inwardly, and faith is 
 that of the heart, in the spirit, and not in the letter, 
 whose praise is not of man, but of God: we may 
 attribute to a barren conceit, or to a formal pro- 
 fession, the name of faith, but it is in an equivocal 
 or wide sense ; as a dead man is called a man, or a 
 dry stick resting in the earth a tree; for so faith, 
 saith St. James, without works is dead; is, indeed, 
 but a trunk, or carcase of faith, resembling it in 
 outward shape, but void of its spirit and life." 
 
 D 
 
VI. 
 
 barrow's sermon, " THE BEING OF GOD PROVED 
 FROM THE FRAME OF HUMAN NATURE." 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 N Barrow's Sermon, " The Being of God 
 proved from the Frame of Human 
 Nature," after describing several " fair 
 characters of the Divine nature en- 
 graven upon man's soul," he proceeds : '* But one 
 chief property thereof we have not as yet touched ; 
 whereof, alas ! the lineaments are more faint and 
 less discernible ; they being in themselves origi- 
 nally most tender and delicate, and thence apt, by 
 our unhappy degeneration, to suffer the most, and 
 have thence accordingly been most defaced ; good- 
 ness I mean ; whereof yet, I shall not doubt to say, 
 many goodly relics are extant, and may be ob- 
 served therein. There do remain, dispersed in the 
 soil of human nature, divers seeds of goodness, of 
 benignity, of ingenuity, which being cherished, ex- 
 cited, and quickened by good culture, do, to com- 
 mon experience, thrust out flowers very lovely, 
 yield fruits very pleasant of virtue and goodness. 
 We see that even the generality of men are prone 
 
The Being of God. 1 9 
 
 to approve the laws and rules directing to justice, 
 sincerity, and beneficence ; to commend actions 
 suitable unto them, to honour persons practising 
 according to them ; as also to distaste, detest, or 
 despise such men, whose principles or tempers in- 
 cline them to the practice of injury, fraud, malice, 
 and cruelty ; yea, even them men generally are 
 apt to dislike, who are so addicted to themselves as 
 to be backward to do good to others. Yea, no 
 man can act according to those rules of justice and 
 goodness, without satisfaction of mind ; no man 
 can do against them without inward self-condem- 
 nation and regret (as St. Paul did observe for us). 
 No man hardly is so savage, in whom the receiving 
 kindnesses doth not beget a kindly sense, and an 
 inclination {eo nomine, for that cause barely) to re- 
 turn the like ; which inclination cannot well be 
 ascribed to any other principle than somewhat of 
 ingenuity innate to man. All men, I suppose, feel 
 in themselves (if at least not hardened by villa- 
 nous custom) a disposition prompting them to com- 
 miserate, yea (even with some trouble and some 
 damage to themselves) to succour and relieve them 
 who are in want, pain, or any distress ; even mere 
 strangers, and such from whom they can expect no 
 return of benefit or advantage to themselves." 
 
VII. 
 
 barrow's sermon, " THE BEING OF GOD PROVED 
 FROM SUPERNATURAL EFFECTS." 
 
 HEY are much mistaken, who place a 
 kind of wisdom in being very incredu- 
 lous, and unwilling to assent to any 
 testimony, how full and clear soever ; 
 for this indeed is not wisdom, but the worst kind of 
 folly. It is folly, because it causes ignorance and 
 mistake, with all the consequents of these ; and it 
 is very bad, as being accompanied with disinge- 
 nuity, obstinacy, rudeness, uncharitableness, and 
 the like bad dispositions ; from which credulity 
 itself, the other extreme sort of folly is exempt. 
 Compare we, I say, these two sorts of fools ; the 
 credulous fool, who yields his assent hastily upon 
 any slight ground ; and the suspicious fool, who 
 never will be stirred by any the strongest reason or 
 clearest testimony ; we shall find the latter in most 
 respects the worst of the two ; that his folly arises 
 from worse causes, hath worse adjuncts, produceth 
 worse effects. Credulity may spring from an airy 
 
TJie Being of God. 2 1 
 
 complexion, or from a modest opinion of one's 
 self ; suspiciousness hath its birth from an earthy- 
 temper of body, or from self-conceit in the mind ; 
 t/iat carries with it being civil and affable, and apt 
 to correct an error ; with t/iis a man is intractable, 
 unwilling to hear, stiff and incorrigible in his igno- 
 rance or mistake ; i/ial begets speed and alacrity 
 in action ; t/iis renders a man heavy and dumpish, 
 slow and tedious in his resolutions and in his pro- 
 ceedings : dot/i include want of judgment ; but t/iis 
 pretending to more thereof, becomes thereby more 
 dangerous. Forward rashness, which is the same 
 with f/iat, may sometimes, like an acute disease, 
 undo a man sooner ; but stupid dotage, Httle differ- 
 ing from f/izs, is (like a chronical distemper) com- 
 monly more mischievous, and always more hard to 
 cure. In fine, were men in their other affairs, or in 
 ordinary converse, so diffident to plain testimony, 
 as some do seem to be in these matters concerning 
 religion, they would soon feel great inconveniences 
 to proceed thence ; their business would stick, their 
 conversation would be distasteful ; they would be 
 much more offensive, and no less ridiculous than 
 the most credulous fool in the world. While men 
 therefore so perversely distrustful affect to seem 
 wise, they affect really to be fools ; and practise 
 according to the worst sort of folly." 
 
VIII. 
 
 barrow's sermon, "maker of heaven 
 and earth." 
 
 OTHING, as it comes from God's hand, 
 or stands in its rank in nature, is 
 positively imperfect or void of that 
 perfection which is due to its kind ; 
 much less is any creature absolutely bad, that is, 
 ugly, or noxious, or troublesome, or cumbersome 
 to the universe ; so that it were better away out of 
 it, than in it. God, saith the Hebrew wise man, 
 created all things, that they might have their being, 
 and the generations of the world were healthful, 
 and there is no poison of destruction in them. Every- 
 thing contributes somewhat to the use and benefit, 
 or to the beauty and ornament of the whole : no 
 weed grows out of the earth, no insect creeps upon 
 the ground, which hath not its elegancy, and yields 
 not its profit ; nothing is abominable or despicable, 
 though all things are not alike amiable and ad- 
 mirable : there is therefore nothing in all the com- 
 pass of nature unfit or unworthy to have proceeded 
 
Maker of Heaven and Earth. 2 3 
 
 from God ; nothing which he beseemingly, without 
 derogation to his excellencies, may not own for his 
 work ; nothing which in its rank and degree doth 
 not confer to the manifestation of his glorious 
 power, admirable wisdom, and excellent goodness : 
 O Lord, (cried the devout Psalmist upon particular 
 survey and consideration of them,) how manifold 
 are thy works ! itt wisdom hast thou made them all; 
 the earth is full of thy riches. That which we call 
 poison, is such only relatively, being noxious or 
 destructive to one part, but innocent, wholesome, 
 and useful to some other part ; and never preju- 
 dicial to the whole body of things ; yea, even to 
 that part itself it is commonly beneficial in some 
 case or season ; affording, if not continual alimony, 
 yet sometime physic thereto, and semng to expel 
 another poison or mischief more imminently dan- 
 gerous. That which we call a monster, is not un- 
 natural in regard to the whole contexture of causes, 
 but ariseth no less methodically, than anything 
 most ordinary ; and it also hath its good end and 
 use, well serving to illustrate the beauty and con- 
 venience of nature's usual course. As for pain and 
 grief incident to the nature of things, without regard 
 to any demerit or justice, they are not properly 
 evils, but adherences to the less perfect natures of 
 things ; in a state liable to which God not only 
 justly, but wisely, according to his pleasure, might 
 constitute things, for the reasons and ends before 
 insinuated ; for no reason obliged him to confer 
 
24 Maker of Heaven and Earth. 
 
 upon everything extreme perfection ; he might dis- 
 pense his liberalities in what kind and measure he 
 thought good. In fine, the reason of offence we 
 take at anything of this kind, seeming bad or 
 ugly to us, ariseth from our defect of knowledge 
 and sagacity, we not being able to discern the 
 particular tendency of each thing to the common 
 utility and benefit of the world." 
 
IX. 
 
 barrow's sermon, "of the excellency of 
 the christian religion." 
 
 T is a peculiar excellency of our religion, 
 that it prescribeth an accurate rule of 
 life, most congruous to reason, and suit- 
 able to our nature ; most conducible to 
 our welfare and our content ; most apt to procure 
 each man's private good, and to promote the public 
 benefit of all ; by the strict observance whereof we 
 shall do what is worthy of ourselves and most be- 
 coming us ; yea, shall advance our nature above 
 itself into a resemblance of the Divine nature ; we 
 shall do God right, and obtain his favour ; we shall 
 oblige and benefit men, acquiring withal good-will 
 and good respect from them ; we shall purchase to 
 ourselves all the conveniences of a sober life, and 
 all the comforts of a good conscience. For, if we 
 first examine the precepts directive of our practice 
 in relation to God, what can be more just, or 
 comely, or pleasant, or beneficial to us, than are 
 those duties of piety, which our religion doth en- 
 join ? What can be more fit, than that we should 
 
 E 
 
26 Excellency of the Christian Religion, 
 
 most highly esteem and honour him, who is most 
 excellent ? That we should bear most hearty affec- 
 tion to him, who is in himself most good, and most 
 beneficial to us ? That we should have a most 
 awful dread of him, who is so infinitely powerful, 
 holy, and just ? That we should be very grateful 
 unto him from whom we have received our being, 
 with all the comforts and conveniences thereof? 
 That we should entirely trust and hope in him, 
 who can do what he will, and will do whatever in 
 reason we can expect from his goodness, and can 
 never fail to perform what he hath promised ? 
 That we should render all obedience and observ- 
 ance to him, whose children, whose servants, whose 
 subjects we are born ; by whose protection and 
 provision we enjoy our life and livelihood ? Can 
 there be a higher privilege than liberty of access, 
 with assurance of being favourably received in our 
 needs, to him, who is thoroughly able to supply 
 them ? Can we desire upon easier terms to re- 
 ceive benefits, than by acknowledging our wants, 
 and asking for them ? Can there be required a 
 more gentle satisfaction from us for our offences, 
 than confession of them, accompanied with repent- 
 ance and effectual resolution to amend ? Is it not, 
 in fine, most equal and fair, that we should be 
 obliged to promote his glory, who hath obliged 
 himself to furnish our good ? The practice of such 
 a piety, as it is apparently a reasonable service, 
 so it cannot but produce excellent fruits of ad- 
 
Excellency of the Christian Religion. 27 
 
 vantage to ourselves, a joyful peace of conscience, 
 and a comfortable hope, a freedom from all super- 
 stitious terrors and scruples, from all tormenting 
 cares and anxieties : it cannot but draw down from 
 God's bountiful hands showers of blessings upon 
 our heads, and of joys into our hearts ; whence our 
 obligation to these duties is not only reasonable, 
 but very desirable." 
 
 After showing the state into which man when 
 unaided falls, the author proceeds : " From this 
 unhappy plight our religion thoroughly doth rescue 
 us, assuring us, that God Almighty is not only 
 reconcilable, but desirous, upon good terms, to 
 become our friend, himself most frankly proposing 
 overtures of grace, and soliciting us to close with 
 them ; it upon our compliance tendereth, under 
 God's own hand and seal, a full discharge of all 
 guilts and debts, however contracted ; it receiveth 
 a man into perfect favour and friendship, if he doth 
 not himself wilfully reject them, or resolve to con- 
 tinue at distance, in estrangement and enmity to- 
 ward God. It proclaimeth, that if we be careful to 
 amend, God will not be extreme to mark what we 
 do amiss ; that iniquity, if we do not incorrigibly 
 affect and cherish it, shall not be our ruin ; that 
 although by our infirmity, we fall often, yet by our 
 repentance we may rise again, and by our sincerity 
 shall stand upright ; that our endeavours to serve 
 and please God (although imperfect and defective, 
 if serious and sincere) will be accepted by him. 
 
28 Excellency of the Christian Religion, 
 
 This is the tenor of that great covenant between 
 heaven and earth, which the Son of God did pro- 
 cure by his intercession, did purchase by his merits 
 of wonderful obedience and patience, did ratify and 
 seal by his blood ; did publish to mankind, did 
 confirm by miraculous works, did solemnize by 
 holy institutions, doth by the evangelical ministry 
 continually recommend to all men ; so that we can 
 nowise doubt of its full accomplishment on God's 
 part, if we be not deficient in ours : so to our ines- 
 timable benefit and unspeakable comfort doth our 
 religion ease their conscience, and encourage them 
 in the practice of their duty, who do sincerely em- 
 brace it, and firmly adhere thereto. The last ad- 
 vantage which I shall mention of this doctrine is 
 this : that it propoundeth and asserteth itself in a 
 manner very convincing and satisfactory : it pro- 
 poundeth itself in a style and garb of speech, as 
 accommodate to the general capacity of its hearers, 
 so proper to the authority which it claimeth, be- 
 coming the majesty and sincerity of divine truth ; 
 it expresseth itself plainly and simply, without any 
 affectation or artifice, without ostentation of wit or 
 eloquence, such as men study to insinuate and im- 
 press their devices by : it also speaketh with an 
 imperious and awful confidence, such as argueth 
 the speaker satisfied both of his own wisdom and 
 authority ; that he doubteth not of what he saith 
 himself, that he knoweth his hearers obliged to be- 
 lieve him ; its words are not like the words of a wise 
 
Excellency of the Christian Religion, 29 
 
 man, who is wary and careful that he slip not into 
 mistake, (interposing therefore now and then his 
 may he's and perchances,) nor like the words of a 
 learned scribe, grounded on semblances of reason, 
 and backed with testimonies ; nor as the words of 
 a crafty sophister, who by long circuits, subtile 
 fetches, and sly trains of discourse doth inveigle 
 men to his opinion ; but, like the words of a king, 
 carrying with them authority and power uncon- 
 trollable, commanding forthwith attention, assent, 
 and obedience ; this you are to believe, this you are 
 to do, upon pain of our high displeasure, at your 
 utmost peril be it ; your life, your salvation de- 
 pendeth thereon ; such is the style and tenor 
 thereof, plainly such as becometh the sovereign 
 Lord of all to use, when he shall please to pro- 
 claim his mind and will unto us." 
 
X. 
 
 barrow's sermon, " THE REASONABLENESS AND 
 EQUITY OF A FUTURE JUDGMENT. 
 
 ROM God's permitting good men to suf- 
 fer, how smartly soever, nothing can be 
 inferred prejudicial unto divine good- 
 ness or justice ; since they are thereby 
 made fitter for, and do attain a surer title to, those 
 excellent rewards, which he upon such trial and ap- 
 probation of their virtues doth intend to confer upon 
 them ; especially considering that afflictions are ne- 
 cessary, both as means of rendering men good, and 
 as occasions of expressing their goodness, that scarce 
 any virtue could subsist or could appear without 
 them. There could be no such thing as patience, if 
 there were no adversities to be endured ; no such 
 thing as contentedness, if there were no wants to be 
 felt ; no such thing as industry, if there were to be 
 no pains to be taken ; no such thing as humility, 
 if sensible infirmities and crosses did not prompt us 
 to sober thoughts, and show us what we are. There 
 would be no true wisdom, no clear knowledge of 
 
Reasonableness of Future Judgment, 3 1 
 
 ourselves, or right judgment of things, without ex- 
 periencing the worst half of things. We should 
 never learn to master our passions, or temper our 
 appetites, or wrest our inclinations to a compliance 
 with reason, if that discipline were away, which the 
 holy Psalmist intimateth, saying : It is good for me 
 that I Jiave been afflicted^ that I might learft Thy 
 statutes. How much we do love God, how submis- 
 sive we are to God's will, how little we do value these 
 mean things here, we cannot otherwise than by 
 willingly undergoing or patiently bearing afflictions, 
 well express ; without it no sure trial of virtue can 
 be, without it no excellent example of goodness 
 had ever been. As, therefore, it is necessary that 
 good men, even that they may be good, should 
 suffer here ; so it is, supposing a future judgment, 
 very just that they should do so, that they may 
 acquire a title to the rewards following it ; rewards 
 far outweighing the light afflictions they are put to 
 endure here." 
 
 Further on the author proceeds thus : " This 
 life is not a time of reaping, but of sowing ; not 
 of approbation, but of trial ; not of triumph, but 
 of combat : this world is not a place of enjoyment, 
 but of work ; our condition here is not a state of 
 settlement, but of travel ; whence no man should 
 expect more of encouragement than is needful to 
 support him in this work and way ; should look to 
 receive wages before his task is done ; to get the 
 prize, before he hath gone through the race ; to 
 
32 Reaso7tableness of Future yudgment. 
 
 gather the spoils before he hath fought out the 
 battle ; to enjoy rest, before he is at his journey's 
 end ; to be put in full possession of happiness, be- 
 fore his right and title thereto is completely assured : 
 no man also should presume or please himself upon 
 present impunity for his misbehaviour or sloth, like 
 those of whom the Preacher saith : Because sentence 
 against an evil work is not executed speedily^ therefore 
 tJie Jieart of the sotis of men is f idly set in them to do 
 evil ; seeing this is the season of mercy and patience, 
 when God commonly doth not further inflict crosses 
 on us than may serve to mind us of our duty, or 
 urge us to the performance of it ; and seeing the 
 longer vengeance is withheld, the more heavy it will 
 at last fall on us, if we despise the present season of 
 grace, and proceed to the end in impenitence ; pre- 
 sent impunity, therefore, is a sore punishment, and 
 correction here a really great favour." 
 
XL 
 
 SWIFT S SERMON ON SLEEPING IN CHURCH. 
 
 " And there sat in the window a certain young man, 
 named Eutychiis, being fallen into a deep sleep; and while 
 Paul was lotig preaching, he sunk down with sleep, and fell 
 down from the third loft, and was taken up dead." — Acts xx. 9. 
 
 HAVE chosen these words with de- 
 sign, if possible, to disturb some part 
 of this audience of half an hour's 
 sleep, for the convenience and exercise 
 whereof, this place, at this season of the day, is 
 very much celebrated. 
 
 "There is, indeed, one mortal disadvantage to 
 which all preaching is subject ; that those who, by 
 the wickedness of their lives, stand in greatest need, 
 have usually the smallest share ; for either they 
 are absent upon the account of idleness, or spleen, 
 or hatred to religion, or in order to doze away the 
 intemperance of the week : or, if they do come, 
 they are sure to employ their minds rather any 
 other way, than regarding or attending to the 
 business of the place. 
 
34 Sleeping in Church. 
 
 *' The accident which happened to this young man 
 in the text, hath not been sufficient to discourage 
 his successors ; but, because the preachers now in 
 the world, however they may exceed St. Paul in 
 the art of setting men to sleep, do extremely fall 
 short of him in the working of miracles ; therefore 
 men are become so cautious as to choose more safe 
 and convenient stations and postures for taking 
 their repose, without hazard of their persons ; and, 
 upon the whole matter, choose rather to trust their 
 destruction to a miracle, than their safety." * 
 
 ' To this Sermon, Sir Walter Scott, in his edition of 
 Swift's Works, has the following note : — 
 
 "If the following discourse did not prove a lasting and 
 effectual cure of the malady referred to in the Dean's congre- 
 gation, it must be allowed at least to have possessed the 
 merit of a temporary remedy ; since it is hardly possible to 
 conceive that any one should indulge in slumber during the 
 delivery." W. T. 
 
XII. 
 
 DR. JOHNSON'S LIFE OF SIR THOMAS BROWNE. 
 
 N 1658 the discovery of some ancient 
 urns in Norfolk gave him occasion to 
 write Hydriotaphia, Urn Burial, or a 
 Discourse of Sepulchral Urns, in which 
 he treats with his usual learning on the funeral rites 
 of the ancient nations ; exhibits their various treat- 
 ment of the dead ; and examines the substances 
 found in his Norfolcian urns. There is, perhaps, 
 none of his works which better exemplifies his 
 reading or memory. It is scarcely to be imagined 
 how many particulars he has amassed together, in 
 a treatise which seems to have been occasionally 
 written ; and for which, therefore, no materials could 
 have been previously collected. It is, indeed, like 
 other treatises of antiquity, rather for curiosity than 
 use ; for it is of small importance to know which 
 nation buried their dead in the ground, which threw 
 them into the sea, or which gave them to birds and 
 beasts ; when the practice of cremation began, or 
 when it was disused ; whether the bones of different 
 
36 Dr. Johnsons Life of 
 
 persons were mingled in the same urn ; what obla- 
 tions were thrown into the pyre ; or how the ashes 
 of the body were distinguished from those of other 
 substances. Of the uselessness of all these enqui- 
 ries, Browne seems not to have been ignorant ; and 
 therefore concludes them with an observation which 
 can never be too frequently recollected. 
 
 " * All or most apprehensions rested in opinions 
 of some future being, which ignorantly or coldly 
 believed, begat those perverted conceptions, cere- 
 monies, sayings, which Christians pity or laugh at. 
 Happy are they, which live not in that disadvantage 
 of time, when men could say little for futurity, but 
 from reason ; whereby the noblest minds fell often 
 upon doubtful deaths and melancholy dissolutions : 
 with these hopes Socrates warmed his doubtful 
 spirits, against the cold potion ; and Cato, before 
 he durst give the fatal stroke, spent part of the 
 night in reading the immortality of Plato, thereby 
 confirming his wavering hand unto the animosity of 
 that attempt. 
 
 " ^ It is the heaviest stone that melancholy can 
 throw at man, to tell him that he is at the end of 
 his nature ; or that there is no further state to 
 come, unto which this seems progressional, and 
 otherwise made in vain: without this accomplish- 
 ment, the natural expectation and desire of such a 
 state were but a fallacy in nature ; unsatisfied con- 
 siderators would quarrel the justice of their consti- 
 tution, and rest content that Adam had fallen 
 
Sir Thomas Browne. 37 
 
 lower, whereby, by knowing no other original, and 
 deeper ignorance of themselves, they might have 
 enjoyed the happiness of inferior creatures, who in 
 tranquillity possess these constitutions, as having 
 not the apprehension to deplore their own natures ; 
 and being framed below the circumference of these 
 hopes or cognition of better things, the wisdom of 
 God hath necessitated their contentment. But the 
 superior ingredient and obscured part of ourselves, 
 whereto all present felicities afford no resting con- 
 tentment, will be able at last to tell us we are more 
 than our present selves : and evacuate such hopes 
 in the fruition of their own accomplishments.' " 
 
XIII. 
 
 SIR THOMAS BROWNE ON DREAMS.* 
 
 
 ALF our days we pass in the shadow of 
 
 the earth ; and the brother of death ex- 
 
 acteth a third part of our hves. A good 
 
 J part of our sleep is peered out with 
 
 visions and fantastical objects, wherein we are con- 
 fessedly deceived. The day supplieth us with truths, 
 the night with fictions and falsehoods, which uncom- 
 fortably divide the natural account of our beings. 
 And, therefore, having passed the day in sober 
 labours and rational enquiries of truth, we are fain 
 to betake ourselves unto such a state of being, 
 wherein the soberest heads have acted all the mon- 
 strosities of melancholy, and which unto open eyes 
 are no better than folly and madness." 
 
 * The observations of Sir Thomas Browne on Dreams, of 
 which the opening paragraph only is here given, were first 
 pubHshed in the fourth volume of the 8vo. edition of his works, 
 1835.— W. T. 
 
XIV. 
 
 JOURNAL OF EDWARD BROWNE, SON OF 
 SIR THOMAS BROWNE. 
 
 ANUARY I (1663-64). I was at Mr. 
 Howard's,' brother to the Duke of Nor- 
 folk, who kept his Christmas this year 
 at the Duke's Palace in Norwich, so 
 magnificently as the like hath scarce been seen. 
 They had dancing every night, and gave entertain- 
 ments to all that would come ; hee built up a roome, 
 on purpose to dance in, very large, and hung with 
 the bravest hangings I ever saw ; his candlesticks, 
 snuffers, tongues, fire-shovels and andirons, were 
 silver ; a banquet was given every night after danc- 
 ing ; and three coaches were employed to fetch 
 ladies every afternoon, the greatest of which would 
 holde fourteen persons, and coste five hundred 
 pound, without the harnesse, which coste six score 
 more." 
 
 * The Mr. Howard here mentioned was afterwards sixth 
 Duke of Norfolk,— W. T. 
 
XV. 
 
 The following extracts are given, one from Henderson's 
 "Journal of a Residence in Iceland," 2nd edition, 1819, the 
 other from Bishop Heber's " Hymns," on account of the co- 
 incidence of thought between two minds, each deeply imbued 
 with grateful piety. — W. T. 
 
 m 
 
 tai 
 
 ENDERSON, after describing a magni- 
 ficent scene, says (p. 190) : — " How vast 
 and glorious are the works of God ! 
 How they reflect the splendour, majesty, 
 and unlimited perfection of their Maker ! But if 
 such be the grandeur and beauty of creation ; if the 
 eye be dazzled with its lustre, and the most capa- 
 cious mind be unable to grasp its immensity, how 
 infinitely more excellent and glorious must He be, 
 to whose all creative word they owe their excellence, 
 who dwells in light inaccessible ; and before whom 
 ' t/ic nations are as a drop of a bucket^ and are counted 
 as the small dust of the balance' " 
 
 " I praised the earth in beauty seen. 
 With garlands gay of various green, 
 I praised the sea, whose ample field 
 Shone glorious like a silver shield, 
 
Hym7i by Bishop Heber. 4 1 
 
 And earth and ocean seem'd to say, 
 ' Our beauties are but for a day.* 
 
 I praised the sun, whose chariot roll'd 
 On wheels of amber and of gold, 
 I praised the moon, whose softer eye 
 Gleam'd sweetly through the summer sky. 
 And moon and sun in answer said, 
 * Our days of light are numbered.* 
 
 O God ! O good beyond compare ! 
 If thus Thy meaner works are fair, 
 If thus Thy beauties gild the span 
 Of ruin'd earth and sinful man. 
 How glorious must the mansion be 
 Where Thy redeemed dwell with Thee. ' 
 
XVI. 
 
 END OF BOTHWELL'S CAREER.' 
 
 N item remains in the winding up of the 
 tragic story, before we open a new 
 chapter in history. The remorseless 
 villain of the plot, who has bent a finer 
 nature than his own to his evil purposes, has to be 
 disposed of It is an end quickly told. He escaped 
 to his dukedom of Orkney — that one of his feudal 
 estates which was farthest off from the avenging 
 power. It was long believed that in his island prin- 
 cipality he got a small fleet fitted out, with which 
 he turned pirate captain in the north seas. This 
 was a suitable end for such a career, according to 
 the rules of the romances ; but to a man so marked 
 and pursued, for whom every sea would be swept, 
 the attempt would be certain destruction. Grange 
 was in pursuit of him, and in dire emergency he 
 made vehement efforts to get the means of escape 
 to the northern states of the Continent. It hap- 
 
 Burton's " History of Scotland," vol. iv. pp. 454-57. 
 
End of Bothwcir s Career. 43 
 
 pened that he thus purchased the vessel of a trouble- 
 some pirate named David Wodt. When this craft 
 was seen off the Danish coast, it was naturally un- 
 der suspicion ; and when it was taken in charge by a 
 Danish ship, and Bothwell found in command, and 
 in the broken-down condition of one fleeing from 
 justice, there naturally followed an investigation 
 when he was landed at Bergen. His story, that he 
 was a king in difficulties, made the affair inexpli- 
 cable and wonderful ; but it was soon seen that he 
 was not the pirate who had transacted business in 
 the ship he sailed in.^ 
 
 " He seems to have become popular — to have been 
 getting, as it were, into society — in this northern 
 region, when trouble came upon him in a shape 
 that, affecting the final destiny of a life like his, has, 
 by contrast, an air of the ludicrous. He was claimed 
 
 ' We owe these revelations to a justly popular writer of 
 travels in Northern Europe, who, finding himself in the scenes 
 of Both well's latter days, thought it worth while discovering 
 what local records there were of his sojourn. He found in the 
 record which he terms the Liber Bergensis, how, " Septem- 
 ber 2, A.D. 1568, came the king's ship David, upon which 
 Christian of Aalborg was head man. He had taken prisoner 
 a count from Scotland of the name of Jacob Hebroe of 
 Botwile, who first was made Duke of the Orkneys and Shet- 
 land, and lately married the Queen of Scotland, and after he 
 was suspected of having been in the counsel to blow up the 
 king. They first accused the Queen, and then the Count, but 
 he made his escape and came to Norway ; and was after- 
 wards taken to Denmark by the king's ship David." 
 
 Marryat's Jutland, chap, xxvii. 
 
44 End of Bothweirs Career, 
 
 by a certain Anna, daughter of Christopher Trand- 
 son, as her husband, who had deserted her ; and it 
 seems to have been on this charge, and not for any 
 reason of state, that he was detained in the Castle 
 of Malmoe.' 
 
 " Strong demands were made for his extradition 
 both by England and Scotland, but they were re- 
 sisted. The Danish Government offered to put him 
 on trial, under their own laws, and before their own 
 courts, for any crime he might be charged with, but 
 would not give him up. 
 
 ** There was a rumour that he had died in 1573. 
 It was received as conclusive in England and Scot- 
 land, and the name of Bothwell belonged only to 
 the past. It would seem, however, that this rumour 
 was propagated to save Denmark from the pursuit 
 of the troublesome pressure to render him up. Both- 
 well, at all events, lived down to the year 1577, 
 
 * On the 17th of September "Mrs. Anna, Christopher 
 Trandson's daughter, brought a suit against the Earl of 
 Bothwell, for having taken her away from her native country, 
 and refusing to treat her as his married wife, although he by 
 hand, word of mouth, and by letters had promised her so to 
 do, which letters she caused to be read before him. And inas- 
 much as he had three wives living — first, herself ; then an- 
 other in Scotland, of whom he had rid himself by purchase ; 
 last of all the Queen Mary — Mrs. Anna was of opinion that he 
 was not at all a person to be depended on ; he therefore pro- 
 mised her the yearly allowance of a hundred dollars from 
 Scotland, and gave her a pink, with an anchor, cable, and 
 other appurtenances." — Marryafs Jutland^ chap, xxvii. 
 
End of Bothweir s Career. 45 
 
 leaving, in a country not peculiarly temperate, re- 
 cords of hard drinking and wild carouses with those 
 who would join him in his revels. He died in the 
 Castle of Draxholm, and was buried in the church 
 of Farveile.* Not many years ago there came to 
 light a vindication of his conduct, written at some 
 length, and intended for a public state paper. It is 
 valuable only as showing the shape which the lies 
 of such a man put on. He maintained his own in- 
 nocence and that of the Queen, and both with 
 pretty equal success, showing how he was the un- 
 conscious victim of the machinations of Murray, 
 Lethington, and other his enemies. He left behind 
 him a shorter paper in the shape of a confession. 
 It is an example, added to countless others, of a 
 phenomenon peculiar to the nature of criminals — a 
 propensity to confess things not charged against 
 them, while denying those as to which guilt is 
 beyond possible question. With unseemly details, 
 the murderer of Darnley confesses to sins and vices 
 which nobody heard of and nobody cared about. 
 Among other things equally credible, he said he 
 owed his influence over Queen Mary to philters 
 and sweet waters."- 
 
 ' Marryat's " Sweden," pp. 16-18. 
 
 * " Les affaires du Conte de Boduel," Bannatyne Club. 
 These papers will also be found among the " Documents 
 relatifs au meurtre de Darnley," printed by M. Teulet, in his 
 " Supplement au Recueil du Prince Labanoff," 1859. 
 
 [It may be mentioned that Jean, third daughter of George 
 
46 End of Bothweirs Career. 
 
 fourth Earl of Huntly, the wife whom Bothwell divorced in 
 order to effect his marriage with Mary Queen of Scots, after- 
 wards, in 1573, married Alexander sixteenth Earl of Suther- 
 land, ancestor, through this marriage of Elizabeth late Duchess 
 Countess of Sutherland, mother of the Lady for whom this 
 volume has been printed. — W. T.] 
 
XVII. 
 
 I have suggested that the following extract should be 
 made, and here inserted, from the Genealogical History of 
 the Earldom of Sutherland, by Sir Robert Gordon, published 
 in one volume, folio, Edinburgh, 1813, from a manuscript in 
 the possession of Elizabeth Duchess Countess of Sutherland, 
 then Marchioness of Stafford, and (in her own right) Countess 
 of Sutherland, who is referred to in the preceding page. The 
 extract relates (p. 146 of the work) a tragical history of the 
 poisoning, in 1567, of John fifteenth Earl of Sutherland and 
 his wife, the father and mother of Alexander the sixteenth 
 Earl of Sutherland, referred to in the same note, and the 
 narrow escape he had of being poisoned at the same time. — 
 W. T. 
 
 OW have yow heard all that passed in 
 Southerland and the nixt adjacent 
 provinces, dureing the dayes of Earle 
 John, and the principall adventurs by 
 armes which concerned these nighbouring cuntries 
 whilest he lived ; who, after he had passed his 
 dayes, both at home in Scotland, and also abroad 
 in other kingdomes, with great credet, and had 
 bein divers tymes imployed in his prince's service, 
 for the Weill of his native cuntrey, he and his lady, 
 who wes then big with chyld, were both together 
 
48 Poisoning of the 
 
 poysoned at Helmisdale in Southerland, by Issobell 
 Sinclar (the wyff of Gilbert Gordoun of Gartay, 
 and the sister of William Sinclar, Laird of Dum- 
 baith), at the instigation of George Sinclar, Earle 
 of Catteynes ; who after the death of Earle John, 
 took vpon him to punish the offenders ; doeing so 
 much the more in outward appearance, the lesse he 
 meant in heart, thinking by these meanes to frie him- 
 selff from the stain of such imputations. Yit the 
 Earle of Catteynes, by virtue of his pretended jus- 
 ticiarie within the bounds of the diocie of Catteynes, 
 did punish those who wer faithfullest to the Earle of 
 Southerland, and spaired the guyltie, who were 
 most suspected for that fact ; wherby he confirmed 
 in the hearts of all men the former opinion which 
 the world had of him touching the death of Earle 
 John. 
 
 ** The Earle of Southerland's freinds perceaveing 
 how the Earle of Catteynes had indevoared to 
 shouffle over and cullor the matter, they appre- 
 hended Issobell Sinckler, and sent her to Edin- 
 burgh, to have her triall ther; wher shoe died the 
 day of her execution, cursing alwise her cusin the 
 Earle of Catteynes, all the tyme of her seiknes, 
 evin untill the hour of her death. 
 
 "Alexander Gordoun, the onlie son of Earle 
 John, escaped verie narrowlie then from poysone ; 
 the same being also prepared and ordained for him, 
 which wes given to his father ; who, feilling himselff 
 past all hope of recovery, and perceaveing his sone 
 
Earl of Sutherland. 49 
 
 (as he came from hunting) making for supper, he 
 took the table-cloath and threw it along the house, 
 not suffering his sone to tast any meat or drink. 
 So he, who wes then taking his last leave of the 
 world, took also his last fareweill of his onlie sone ; 
 and recommending him to the protection of God, 
 and of his deirest freinds, he sent him the same 
 night to Dounrobin, from Helmisdale, without his 
 supper ; and from thence he wes conveyed to the 
 castle of Skibo. Earle John and his Lady were 
 caried the nixt morning to Dounrobin, wher both 
 he and shoe, together with the chyld which wes in 
 her bellie, died, all within fyve dayes after they 
 were poysoned, in the moneth of Julie, the yeir of 
 God 1567, and wer bureid in the cathedrall church 
 at Dornogh. 
 
 *' John Gordon, the eldest sone of Gilbert Gor- 
 doun of Gartay, and of this Issobell Sinclar, wes 
 the nixt air-maill to the Earledome of Southerland, 
 iff Earle John and his sone had both dyed, as wes 
 intended ; with the which hope of succeiding to the 
 earldome, this vainglorious woman wes led by her 
 cousin, the Earle of Catteynes, and shoe did wil- 
 linglie undertake, at his desyre, to execute this 
 wicked villainy. Bot mark what then happened, 
 and how God doth work in every thing according 
 to his great and admirable providence. The sone 
 of Issobell Sinckler (whom in her mynd and con- 
 ceat shoe had appoynted to succeid) wes in the 
 house with Earle John whil'st the poyson wes pre- 
 
 H 
 
5 o Poison ing of the 
 
 pairing, and the youth being thirstie, he called for 
 -drink. One of her owne servants, who wes ignorant 
 of the practise, went in all hast, and brought vnto 
 the youth a drink of what shoe found readiest, being 
 a portion of the same wherin the poysone wes 
 mixed, which the youth drank, and died within tuo 
 dayes therefter : whose sudden death, and maner 
 therof, together with tokens which wer found and 
 remarked upon his bodie in the church of Golspie, 
 at his buriall, gave evin then a full assurance vnto 
 all men, that Issobell Sincler wes the author of 
 Earle Ihon his death ; shoe being also the fittest 
 instrument that the Earle of Catteynes, who hated 
 Earle lohn mortallie, and repyned at his pros- 
 peritie, culd have vsed in the execution of this 
 tragedie ; serving his turne with that woman's cove- 
 tous ambitioun, and feiding her with a foolish hope, 
 that her sone should be Earle of Southerland, by 
 his meanes and assistance. 
 
 " Earle John, befor his going into Flanders, had 
 purchased from the bishop of Orknay the fue and 
 inheritance of the lands of Dounrey in Catteynes, 
 At his departure from Scotland, he gave the writs 
 and charters apperteyning to these lands in custodie 
 to William Sincler, Laird of Dumbaith, who had 
 mareid his sister Beatrix, and whom he maid his 
 tennent of these lands, thinking that he might 
 saiflie repose his trust and confidence in him. Bot 
 the Laird of Dumbaith, dureing Earle John his 
 banishment, took a new gift of these lands to his 
 
Earl of Sutherland, 5 1 
 
 owne use, and suppressed Earle John his writs. 
 Now, the Earle of Southerland being recalled, and 
 returning home, Dumbaith thought, that not onlie 
 wold Earle John endevoar to recover these lands, 
 hot also that all hope of pardon and reconciliatioun 
 with Earle John wes past. Wherevpon, joyning 
 with his cheifT and cousen, the Earle of Catteynes, 
 they vsed this ambitious woman (being Dumbaith 
 his sister) as a fitt instrument to execute this wicked 
 fact : which they beleivd shoe might easalie bring 
 to passe, being Gilbert Gordoun his wyff, and 
 duelling in Southerland. This is all I culd learn 
 concerning Earle John his death, and the authors 
 therof, whom God in his just judgement hath not 
 left vnpunished ; for Dumbaith his house and 
 familie is now perished, as wee sie, and his estate 
 is come into a stranger's hand. Ther is no lawfuU 
 succession descended from the heyrs-maill of Gil- 
 bert Gordoun and Issobell Sinckler ; and shoe her- 
 selfT died miserablie at Edinburgh, haveing (as wes 
 supposed) maid herselff away, least shoe should have 
 suffered a just punishment for so wicked a cryme ; 
 even at her last gasp still exclaiming against her 
 cousen, the Earl6 of Catteynes, and cursing him. 
 The Terrell of Doill his posteritie is decayed, and 
 run headlong to miserie, whos wyff was ane actrix 
 in this dolefull tragedie. lohn. Master of Cattey- 
 nes (the eldest sone of George Earle of Catteynes) 
 rose up and conspyred against his father, for the 
 which he imprissoned him in the Castle of Girnego, 
 
5 2 Poisoning of the Earl of Sutherland, 
 
 wher he maid him die miserabhe in wofull captivitie. 
 Earle George his second sone, William Sinckler, 
 wes slain by his owne brother John, who bruised 
 him to death in the castle of Girnego, dureing his 
 imprissonment then George now Earle of Cat- 
 teynes (grandchyld of olde Earle George), wes con- 
 strained by the authoritie of the kingdome, for 
 divers crymes and misdemeanors, to forsak his 
 cuntrey and familie a long tyme. This Earle 
 George is at great jarrs and contentions with his 
 owne eldest sone, the Lord Berridale, it being now 
 almost hereditarie to this familie, that the father 
 and the sone should be at odds together. Besids 
 this, their house is over burdened and overwhelmed 
 with debts ; wherby yow sie at this day the house 
 and earldome of Catteynes weill neir ane vtter 
 rwyne, liklie to vanish and fall from the familie 
 and surname of Sinckler. Thus is the Almightie 
 euer-liveing God a just revenger of innocent blood, 
 vpon the third and fourth generation. Happy ar 
 they who refer their vengeance to the Lord ! The 
 onlie hope of that familie rests vpon the Lord 
 Berridale, his sone, a youth of singular good expec- 
 tation. 
 
XVIII. 
 
 REBELLION OF 1 745. — FLORA MACDONALD.^ 
 
 HE utmost diligence was used for seiz- 
 ing the Pretender's son ; concerning 
 whom there had been numberless re- 
 ports ; of which the following is the 
 exactest, and seems most probable. On the 28th 
 of June, he sailed in a small boat from South-Uist 
 to the Isle of Sky, under the disguise of a young 
 lady's maid. Next day they landed at a gentle- 
 man's house, having got a signal from a trusty 
 friend on shore about half an hour before. Here 
 the lady dined, with several others ; but, though 
 pressed to it, would not stay all night. After the 
 lady and her pretended maid were gone hence, 
 the Pretender's son resumed the habit of his sex, 
 and was carried by John Macinnon, a boatman. 
 
 » Extracts from "The History of the Rebellion in 1745 
 and 1746, extracted from the " Scot's Magazine." 1 vol. 
 i2mo. Aberdeen, 1755. 
 
5 4 Rebellion o/iy^^,. 
 
 first to Raza, and then back to Sky, and at last to 
 the Continent." After describing his subsequent 
 movements in this page 247 and the next, it goes 
 on to say, "He was at that time" (20 July) "re- 
 ported to be wandering about in Morar, in an old 
 highland habit, and in a bad state of health, being 
 broke out to such a degree, that he was like a 
 leper." 
 
 In a subsequent part of the book, at p. 273, &c., 
 a more full account is given. After stating various 
 movements of the young man and his attendants, 
 it goes on thus : " At night they sailed for Loch- 
 busdale ; where they arrived, and staid eight days on 
 a rock, making a tent of the sail of the boat. They 
 found themselves then in a most dreadful situa- 
 tion; for having intelligence that Captain Scott 
 had landed at Kylbride, the company was obliged 
 to separate ; and the Pretender and O'Neil went to 
 the mountains ; where they remained all night, and 
 soon after were informed that General Campbell 
 was at Bernera ; so that now they had forces very 
 near, on both sides of them, and were absolutely at 
 a loss which way to move. In their road they met 
 with a young lady, one Miss Macdonald, to whom 
 Captain O'Neil proposed assisting the Pretender to 
 make his escape ; which she at first refused ; but 
 on his promising to put on woman's clothes she 
 consented, and desired them to go to the mountain 
 of Currada, till she sent for them ; where they ac- 
 cordingly staid two days ; but hearing nothing from 
 the young lady, the Pretender concluded she 
 
Flora Macdoiiald. 55 
 
 would not keep her word, and therefore resolved to 
 send Captain O'Neil to General Campbell, to let 
 him know he was willing to surrender to him. But 
 about five in the evening, a message came from the 
 young lady desiring them to meet her at Rush- 
 ness. Being afraid to pass by the ford, because of 
 the militia, they luckily found a boat which carried 
 them over to the other side of Uia, where they re- 
 mained part of the day, afraid of being seen by the 
 country people. In the evening they set out for 
 Rushness, and arrived there at twelve at night ; but 
 not finding the young lady, and being alarmed by a 
 boat-full of militia, they were obliged to retire two 
 miles back ; where the Pretender remained on a 
 moor, till O'Neil went to the young lady, and pre- 
 vailed upon her to come to the place appointed at 
 nightfall or next day. About an hour after they 
 had account of General Campbell's arrival at Ben- 
 bicula, which obliged them to remove to another part 
 of the island ; whence, as the day broke, they dis- 
 covered four sail close on the shore, making directly 
 up to the place where they were ; so that there was 
 nothing left for them to do, but to throw them- 
 selves among the heath. When the wherries were 
 gone, they resolved to go to Clanronald's house. 
 But when they were within a mile of it, they heard 
 that General Campbell was there, which forced 
 them to retreat again ; and soon after O'Neil was 
 taken. The young Pretender having at length, 
 with the assistance of Captain O'Neil, found Miss 
 Macdonald in a cottage near the place appointed, 
 
5 6 Rebellion ^/ 1 74 5 . 
 
 it was there determined, that he should put on 
 women's clothes and pass for her waiting maid. 
 This being done he took leave of Sullivan and 
 O'Neil with great regret ; who departed to shift 
 for themselves, leaving him and his new mistress 
 in the cottage ; where they continued some days, 
 during which she cured him of the itch. Upon in- 
 telligence that General Campbell was gone further 
 into the country, they removed to her cousin's ; and 
 spent the night in preparing for their departure to 
 the Isle of Sky. Accordingly they set out the next 
 morning, with only one man servant, named Mac- 
 lean, and two rowers. During their voyage they 
 were pursued by a small vessel ; but, a thick fog 
 rising, they arrived safe at midnight in that island, 
 and landed at the foot of a rock, where the lady 
 and maid waited, while her man Maclean went to 
 see if Sir Alexander Macdonald was at home. 
 Maclean found his way thither, but lost it return- 
 ing back. His mistress and her maid, after in vain 
 expecting him the whole night, were obliged in the 
 morning to leave the rock, and go in the boat up 
 the creek to some distance, to avoid the militia 
 which guarded the coast. They went on shore again 
 about ten o'clock, and attended by the rowers, in- 
 quired the way to Sir Alexander's. When they 
 had gone about two miles, they met Maclean : he 
 told his lady that Sir Alexander was with the 
 Duke of Cumberland ; but his lady was at home, 
 and would do them all the service she could. 
 
Flora Macdonald. 57 
 
 Whereupon they discharged their boat, and went 
 directly to the house ; where they remained two 
 days ; Betty living always in her lady's chamber, 
 except o' night, to prevent a discovery. But a 
 party of the Macleods, having intelligence that 
 some strangers were arrived at Sir Alexander's, 
 and knowing his lady was well affected to the 
 Pretender, came thither, and demanding to see the 
 new-comers, were introduced to Miss's chamber, 
 where she sat with her new maid. The latter 
 hearing the militia was at the door, had the pre- 
 sence of mind to get up and open it ; which oc- 
 casioned his being less taken notice of; and after 
 they had narrowly searched the closets they with- 
 drew. The inquiry however alarmed the lady, and 
 the next day she sent her maid to a steward of 
 Sir Alexander's, Macdonald of Kinsburgh, ten miles 
 distant ; where he remained but one day, for on 
 receiving intelligence that it was rumoured he was 
 disguised in a woman's habit, Kingsburgh furnished 
 him with a suit of his own clothes, and he went in 
 a boat to Macleod of Raza's." — Other wanderings 
 are then rnentioned, in one of which it is said " he 
 went over the hill of Morar in a tattered highland 
 habit." 
 
 From these accounts, it would appear that Miss Mac- 
 donald took charge of the fugitive unwillingly, and that she 
 got rid of him as soon as she could. It would also appear 
 that her success in curing him of the itch was not altogether 
 effectual, as when afterwards in Morar he was " like a leper." 
 — W. T. 
 
XIX. 
 
 FATAL BANDITTI ADVENTURE IN ASIA MINOR.^ 
 
 Rhodes, Nov. 29, 1845. 
 HAVE written to Colonel Jones, Ord- 
 nance Storekeeper at Chatham, telling 
 him of the sad and sudden death of my 
 LI companion and his nephew. Sir Law- 
 rence Jones — for in Lady Jones's (the mother's) 
 state of health, I was afraid of writing directly to 
 her at Cheltenham. In case of his absence or re- 
 moval from Chatham, &c. will you have the good- 
 ness to enquire for the letter at Chatham, and if 
 necessary cause it to be sent immediately to him, or 
 to another uncle at Woolwich (Colonel Jones also). 
 For this will get into the Constantinople papers, 
 and be perhaps transferred to the English, &c. 
 We had nearly finished our tour, and we were on 
 our way to Smyrna, eight hours past Maori (a small 
 port opposite Rhodes), when we were suddenly 
 
 * Letter from Captain Richard Twopeny (formerly of the 
 52nd Regiment) to his brother, Edward Twopeny, Esq. of 
 Woodstock, in Kent. 
 
Banditti Adventure, 59 
 
 attacked by an ambush of Xebecs (disbanded Ja- 
 nissaries, notorious robbers). Poor Jones and the 
 servant were shot dead on the spot, and I was 
 wounded, but am now nearly well, and hope to sail 
 for Smyrna to-morrow. 
 
 On the morning of the 7th November we broke 
 up our encampment early (having slept in the tent 
 four hours from Macri) and started for DoUomon, on 
 the way to Smyrna — track very mountainous and 
 bad — the day beautiful. Our party consisted of, — 
 first, a Turk, owner of the horses : he is an Imaiim 
 (priest) from Xanthus, mounted and armed with a 
 musket and a girdle of cartridges ; then a Greek 
 man and a lad from Macri, on foot, unarmed and 
 driving two baggage-horses ; then a Smyrniote Greek 
 servant, mounted, unarmed ; then Sir L. Jones 
 mounted, a brace of pistols in holsters ; last, myself, 
 mounted, unarmed. We always travelled in file, from 
 the badness of the tracks. About mid-day the 
 Imaiim suddenly stopped, and began to fix his flint, 
 prime, &c. Both he and the servant had seen some 
 Xebecs skulking about and endeavouring to hide 
 among the bushes ahead. Jones happened to be 
 behind for a moment. When he came up I said, not 
 thinking much of it at the moment — " Prepare for a 
 general action." It was a little valley full of high 
 bushes, and opening out upon the sea. He went to 
 the end of it, the Imaiim at the "ready." No 
 Xebecs. Here the road began to ascend a ravine, 
 and was thickly hemmed in with bushes for many 
 
6o Banditti Adventure 
 
 hundred yards on each side. We momentarily 
 expected an attack. In a quarter of an hour we 
 came to a fountain surrounded by oak trees, under- 
 neath free of bushes. Said Jones, "We may as 
 well stop to lunch here. If these fellows mean to 
 attack us, we can't escape them ; and it is better 
 to fight on a full stomach than an empty one." 
 " Perhaps," said I, "our numbers looked formidable, 
 and they hardly know how slightly armed we are." 
 " I can hardly think so little of Turkish courage," 
 he replied. In my own mind, I felt that they were 
 probably skulking alongside among the bushes, and 
 that stopping was imprudent, as it gave them plenty 
 of time to head us and choose their ground. But 
 as he seemed bent on it I did not oppose him. We 
 were about twenty minutes at luncheon, discussing 
 the merits of the things put before us just as usual. 
 The Greek lad's horse was a slow one, so he was 
 sent ahead when we first sat down to eat. After 
 luncheon we had not proceeded more than ten 
 minutes up the hill, when on passing a large mass 
 of rock about eight feet high, and which abutted on 
 the road on our right, a volley of musketry burst 
 on us from behind it, distance about three yards. 
 At the same instant poor Jones and the servant fell 
 heavily from their horses, and I received a ball in 
 my left breast, and instantly after another, as I 
 thought, in my right, and various slug wounds. My 
 little pony contrived to wriggle himself from under 
 me and disappeared, and I found myself standing 
 
m Asia Minor. 6 1 
 
 in the middle of the road. At this moment Jones's 
 horse, just disengaged from his rider, came gallop- 
 ing down past me. I seized the bridle, took the 
 pistols out of the holsters, and let him go. As I 
 turned round I saw poor Jones and the servant in 
 their last struggles. I looked up at the rock to see 
 if I could make anything of a fight. Slightly mys- 
 tified by the blue smoke of the firing and some 
 straggling branches, I distinguished the tops of five 
 or six turbaned heads looking along their musket- 
 barrels, which rested on the top of the rock and 
 were pointed at me. Reflecting that they were six 
 to one — that they were so well covered that they 
 left me nothing to aim at — that I was without am- 
 munition to reload, and that I was entirely exposed 
 to them, and every moment becoming fainter from 
 loss of blood, I settled instantly that resistance 
 would be madness, so threw down my pistols, and sunk 
 down weak and giddy beside them. They instantly 
 rushed out of their hiding-place, took up the pistolsj 
 and surrounded me, shouting " Paras, paras !" (a small 
 Turkish coin). I handed them the trifle I had about 
 me and my watch. "Paras!" again they cried. 
 I pointed up towards the luggage, and they imme- 
 diately set to work to rifle it, obliging the Greek 
 man and the Imaiim (deprived of his musket) to; 
 assist them. I remained quiet. Just above me were 
 the dead bodies of poor Jones and the servant, and 
 just above them the robbers, luggage, &c. Presently 
 the Imaiim came running down past me, and I sup- 
 
6 2 Banditti A dven ture 
 
 posed that they had suffered him to escape, so I 
 thought I might as well try, so I got up staggering, 
 and as I fell again from weakness, I saw that some 
 of them had left off their ransacking to level their 
 muskets at me. Presently the Imaiim returned; he 
 had only been sent, I fancy, to see if the coast was 
 clear. I remained quiet. The robbers were perhaps 
 two hours hunting for money. They then marched 
 down in file, in regular military style, between the 
 dead bodies and past me, followed by a young 
 man who seemed to be their captain. They were 
 six in all, armed each with a musket and a girdle 
 of cartridges, in which was stuck a brace of large 
 pistols and a sword. As the Captain was passing 
 me, he stopped for a moment and said " Paras." I 
 again pointed to the baggage. At this moment 
 one of the band stepped out of his rank, turned 
 round, and deliberately took aim at me. I was 
 momentarily expecting the ball to crash through 
 me, when the Captain waved the musket up with 
 his hand, and they marched away. I crawled up 
 to poor Jones, and found him quite dead. Just 
 above, the Imaiim and the Greek were arranging 
 the fragments of our baggage on three horses. I 
 made signs to them to put Jones's body on one of 
 them ; this they positively refused to do again and 
 again, drawing their fingers across their throats, 
 and saying, " Xebec." The Interpreter being dead, 
 I was obliged to give in. However, I got the 
 Imaiim to turn the body on its back, and take off a 
 
in Asia Minor. 63 
 
 ring and cut off some of his hair for his mother. 
 We also found some money in his pockets — for 
 some superstitious scruple, the robbers had hardly 
 touched the bodies. The Imaiim then lifted me 
 upon one oi the horses. The constrained posi- 
 tion of the Turkish saddle made me almost faint 
 away, whereupon they put me on another, which 
 had a great pile of horsecloths, and no stirrups, &c. 
 and we started for Maori. It wanted an hour of 
 sunset. I found the sun very hot on my back — I 
 was hot, bleeding, faint, and parched. We crossed 
 some streams, and I drank like a fish. Soon the 
 sun went down, and a fresh east breeze sprung up, 
 which refreshed me. A bright moon came to our 
 aid, without which we could never have kept such a 
 difficult mountain track. Down hill the jolting of 
 the horse was agonizing, and without stirrups, and 
 my legs over his shoulders, I was perpetually in 
 danger of slipping over his head, and the hills 
 were numerous and excessively steep. I wanted to 
 stop and rest, for I despaired of ever reaching 
 Macri, but the Imaiim would not hear of it, and 
 said, "Xebec, Xebec." So at midnight, almost 
 done, and bleeding profusely, I arrived there — eight 
 hours on the road. We knocked up the only Euro- 
 pean, Mr. Biliotti, the Tuscan Consul (whose ac- 
 quaintance I had made two days before). When 
 the worthy man was sufficiently awake to take it 
 all in, he received me with all the affectionate 
 warmth of a near relation. Nothing could exceed 
 
64 Banditti Adventure 
 
 his kindness ; and the sight and the story made 
 him quite ill. Before daylight we dispatched a 
 boat for the bodies, with the Imaiim as a guide. 
 Then a French renegade Turk, who had a smatter- 
 ing of surgery, stopped the bleeding and bandaged 
 my wounds. In the afternoon, the boat returned 
 with the bodies. I was too weak to move. So Mr. 
 Biliotti kindly superintended their interment in the 
 Court of the Greek Church. I was then carried 
 down and put on board a boat for Rhodes, for the 
 sake of proper medical advice. I arrived safely 
 next morning. Mr. Wilkinson, the English Consul, 
 received me most kindly, got a room and a servant, 
 &c. A little German Dr. (Dr. Barman) examined 
 my wounds. The ball in my left breast, just over 
 my heart, had come side ways, glanced off the 
 breast bone, and gone out at the nipple, making 
 a tunnel of about two inches — tedious to cure, but 
 of no consequence. The other was a volley of 
 slugs, one of which hit a vein in the breast, and I 
 fancied was a ball. They hit me six times in the 
 head and face, and seven times in the body. They 
 have given a little trouble, but are of no conse- 
 quence. I have been three weeks in bed, and am 
 very weak ; but I am now up and preparing for 
 my voyage with the appetite of a horse. I hope to 
 be in time for the lo. Malta steamer, where I shall 
 have eight days quarantine, and go on to Naples 
 for Rome by next steamer, which leaves Smyrna 
 on the 20th, or I may find a Trieste or Ancona 
 
in Asia Minor. 65 
 
 one. People cannot make out why the Xebecs 
 spared me. Perhaps they thought that I slum Id 
 be left there and must die, and therefore a charge 
 of powder was waste. It is considered almost 
 miraculous, and I can cfnly attribute it to the mercy 
 of Almighty God Take care not to frighten my 
 good mother. I have made the Imaiim a present, 
 for he is a real good fellow, and saved my life. 
 
 Copy of part of a later Letter from Rome. 
 
 Rome, 31 January, 1846. 
 You kindly enquire after my wounds. One 
 slug went down to the bone, on the right and upper 
 side of the head, a little above the commencement 
 of the hair. It took some time to heal, and the 
 doctor could not find the lead. I believe that it 
 is there still, as there is a lump near it, but it does 
 no harm. A little more or less lead in one's head 
 makes no difference. Next, the bone of the cavity 
 of the eye near the outside of the right eye-brow 
 arrested another slug, which otherwise would cer- 
 tainly have put my eye out One grazed my ear, 
 another my nose, and two buried themselves in the 
 lower jaw just within the whisker. These I have ; 
 they were extracted with some little pain. None 
 of them have left disfiguring marks. Those on my 
 body have left small damask marks, but they are 
 of no manner of consequence, any of them. The 
 bullet wound is entirely healed, and has, of course, 
 left a considerable scar. The ladies rather bull)' 
 
 K 
 
66 Banditti Advefiture 
 
 me for not looking pale and interesting, and every- 
 body tells me that I never looked so fresh or so 
 fat. I am, of course, a nine days' wonder. 
 
 [Good was derived from the evil of this tragical 
 adventure. Owing to the strong representations of 
 the English Ambassador then at Constantinople, 
 Sir Stratford Canning, now Viscount Stratford de 
 Redcliffe, the Turkish Government for the first 
 time exerted itself in endeavours, which were ulti- 
 mately successful, to capture these lawless Ban- 
 ditti. In doing so, one, (the captain as was sup- 
 posed,) was killed. A difficulty arose as to trying 
 the survivors for their offence, there being only one 
 Mahomedan witness; their law requiring in such a 
 case two, both Mahomedans, the evidence of the 
 Christians not being received. The Turkish Go- 
 vernment offered to confine the culprits for life 
 without trial. Sir Stratford Canning refused to 
 accept that as a satisfaction, and required that the 
 law as to not receiving the evidence of Christians 
 should be altered. Ultimately a Court was estab- 
 lished, in which in future the evidence of Christians 
 would be received. 
 
 Ten days before the receipt of this letter, an 
 account appeared in the newspapers from Con- 
 stantinople, shortly stating the murder of Sir Law- 
 rence Jones, and that my brother had been 
 wounded, but giving no particulars of what had 
 become of him. During the period of this painful 
 
in Asia Minor. 
 
 67 
 
 suspense, my mother, to whom my brother refers, 
 showed, by her patient submission, what can be 
 effected by Christian resignation. 
 
 The letter, from the extreme weakness of the 
 writer, occupied him several days ; but it has no 
 evidence, either from its style or otherwise, of 
 having been written at broken intervals. — W. T.] 
 
PRINTED BY WHITTINGHAM AND WILKINS, 
 TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE. 
 
 / 
 
A . .is 
 
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YB 2782 
 
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