← catalogue

The Surprising Adventures of Bampfylde Moore Carew, King of the Beggars

by Unknown · English · Gutenberg #27210 · 420,080 chars · public domain (US)

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Surprising Adventures of Bampfylde Moore Carew, King of the Beggars
    
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.

Title: The Surprising Adventures of Bampfylde Moore Carew, King of the Beggars

Author: Unknown


        
Release date: November 9, 2008 [eBook #27210]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/27210

Credits: Transcribed from the 1850’s Thomas Allman and Son edition by David Price


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SURPRISING ADVENTURES OF BAMPFYLDE MOORE CAREW, KING OF THE BEGGARS ***


Transcribed from the 1850's Thomas Allman and Son edition by David Price,
email ccx074@pglaf.org

               [Picture: Bampfylde Disguised with Children]





                              THE SURPRISING
                                ADVENTURES
                                    OF
                          BAMPFYLDE MOORE CAREW,
                           KING OF THE BEGGARS;
                                CONTAINING
                                HIS LIFE,
                    A Dictionary of the Cant Language,
                                 AND MANY
                         ENTERTAINING PARTICULARS
                                    OF
                         THAT EXTRAORDINARY MAN.


               [Picture: Bampfylde Frightening the Bellman]

                                 LONDON:
                          THOMAS ALLMAN AND SON.
                        W. WALKER AND SON, OTLEY.




THE LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF BAMPFYLDE MOORE CAREW.


Mr. Bampfylde Moore Carew was descended from the ancient family of the
Carews, son of the Reverend Mr. Theodore Carew, of the parish of
Brickley, near Tiverton, in the county of Devon; of which parish he was
many years a rector, very much esteemed while living, and at his death
universally lamented.  Mr. Carew was born in the month of July 1693; and
never was there known a more splendid attendance of ladies and gentlemen
of the first rank and quality at any baptism in the west of England, than
at his: the Hon. Hugh Bampfylde, Esq., who afterwards died of an
unfortunate fall from his horse, and the Hon. Major Moore, were both his
illustrious godfathers, both of whose names he bears; who sometime
contending who should be the president, doubtless presaging the honour
that should redound to them from the future actions of our hero, the
affair was determined by throwing up a piece of money, which was won by
Mr. Bampfylde; who upon this account presented a large piece of plate,
whereon was engraved, in large letters,

                          BAMPFYLDE MOORE CAREW.

The reverend Mr. Carew had several other children, both sons and
daughters, besides Mr. Carew, all of whom he educated in a tender and
pious manner; and Mr. Carew was at the age of twelve sent to Tiverton
school, where he contracted an intimate acquaintance with some young
gentlemen of the first rank in Somersetshire, Devonshire, Cornwall, and
Dorsetshire.

The desire of the reader to be informed of the person of the hero of whom
they are reading is so natural, we should be guilty of a great neglect,
were we to omit satisfying our readers in this respect, more particularly
as we can, without making use of a figure in rhetoric, (which is of very
great service to many authors,) called amplification; or, in plain
English, enlarging, present our readers with a very amiable picture.

The stature of our hero was tall and majestic, his limbs strong and
well-proportioned, his features regular, his countenance open and
ingenuous, bearing all those characteristical marks which physiognomists
assert denote an honest and good-natured mind.

During the first four years of his continuance at Tiverton school, his
close application to, and delight in his studies, gave his friends great
hopes that he might one day make a good figure in that honourable
profession which his father became so well, for many years, and for which
he was designed.

He attained, for his age, a very considerable knowledge in the Latin and
Greek tongues; but soon a new exercise or accomplishment engaged all his
attention; this was that of hunting, in which our hero soon made a
surprising progress; for, besides that agility of limb and courage
requisite for leaping over five-barred gates, &c., our hero, by
indefatigable study and application, added to it a remarkable cheering
halloo to the dogs, of very great service to the exercise, and which, we
believe, was peculiar to himself; and, besides this, found out a secret,
hitherto known but to himself, of enticing any dog whatever to follow
him.

The Tiverton scholars had at this time the command of a fine cry of
hounds, whereby Mr. Carew had frequent opportunity of gratifying his
inclinations in that diversion.  It was then that he entered into a very
strict friendship and familiarity with John Martin, Thomas Coleman, John
Escott, and other young gentlemen of the best rank and fortune.

The wise Spaniards have a proverb, Tell me who you are with, and I will
tell you what you are; and we ourselves say, Birds of a feather flock
together.  It is generally allowed that proverbs are built upon
experience, and contain great truths; and though at this time very young,
he contracted no acquaintance, and kept no company, but with young
gentlemen of birth and fortune, who were rather superior to himself than
beneath him.

It happened that a farmer, living in a county adjacent to Tiverton, who
was a great sportsman, and used to hunt with the Tiverton scholars, came
and acquainted them of a fine deer, which he had seen with a collar about
his neck, in the fields about his farm, which he supposed to be the
favourite deer of some gentleman not far off; this was very agreeable
news to the Tiverton scholars, who, with Mr. Carew, John Martin, Thomas
Coleman, and John Escott, at their head, went in a great body to hunt it;
this happened a short time before the harvest.  The chase was very hot,
and lasted several hours, and they ran the deer many miles, which did a
great deal of damage to the fields of corn that were then almost ripe.
Upon the death of the deer and examination of the collar, it was found to
belong to Colonel Nutcombe, of the parish of Clayhanger.

Those farmers and gentlemen that sustained the greatest damage came to
Tiverton, and complained heavily to Mr. Rayner, the schoolmaster, of the
havock made in their fields, which occasioned strict enquiry to be made
concerning the ringleaders, who, proving to be our hero and his
companions, they were so severely threatened, that, for fear, they
absented themselves from school; and the next day, happening to go in the
evening to Brick-house, an alehouse, about half a mile from Tiverton,
they accidentally fell into company with a society of gipseys, who were
there feasting and carousing.  This society consisted of seventeen or
eighteen persons of both sexes, who that day met there with a full
purpose of merriment and jollity; and after a plentiful meal upon fowls,
and other dainty dishes, the flowing cups of October, and cider, went
most cheerfully round, and merry songs and country dances crowned the
jovial banquet; in short, so great an air of freedom, mirth, and
pleasure, appeared in this society, that our youngsters from that time
conceived a sudden inclination to enlist into their company; which, when
they communicated to the gipseys, they, considering their appearance,
behaviour, and education, regarded as only spoke in jest; but as they
tarried there all night in their company, and continued in the same
resolution the next morning, they were at length induced to believe them
to be serious, and accordingly encouraged them, and admitted them into
their number; the requisite ceremonials being first gone through, and the
proper oaths administered.

The reader may perhaps be surprised at the mention of oaths administered,
and ceremonials used, at the entrance of these young gentlemen; but his
surprise will lessen when we inform him, that these people are subject to
a form of government and laws peculiar to themselves, and though they
have no written laws, by which means they avoid all perplexity with
lawyers, yet they pay obedience to one who is styled their king; to which
great honour we shall hereafter see our hero arrive, having first proved
himself worthy of it, by a great number of necessary achievements.

There are, perhaps, no people so completely happy as they are, or enjoy
so great a share of liberty.  The king is elective by the whole people,
but none are allowed to stand as candidates for that honour, but such as
have been long in their society, and perfectly studied the nature and
institution of it; they must likewise have given repeated proofs of their
personal wisdom, courage and capacity; this is the better known, as they
always keep a public record or register of all remarkable (either good or
bad) actions performed by any of the society; and they can have no
temptation to make choice of any but the most worthy, as their king has
no titles or lucrative employments to bestow, which might influence or
corrupt their judgment.

The only advantage the king enjoys is, that he is constantly supplied
with whatever is necessary for his maintenance, from the contributions of
his people; whilst he, in return, directs all his care to the defending
and protecting his people from their enemies, in contriving and planning
whatever is most likely to promote their welfare and happiness, in seeing
a due regard paid to their laws, in registering their memorable actions,
and making a due report of all these things at their general assemblies;
so that, perhaps, at this time, it is amongst these people only that the
office of a king is the same as it was at its first institution;--viz. a
father and protector of his people.

The laws of these people are few and simple, but most exactly and
punctually observed; the fundamental of which is, that strong love and
mutual regard for each member in particular, and for the whole community
in general, which is inculcated into them from their earliest infancy; so
that this whole community is connected by stronger bands of love and
harmony, than oftentimes subsist even in private families under other
governments; this naturally prevents all oppressions, fraud, and
over-reachings of one another, so common amongst other people, and
totally extinguishes that bitter passion of the mind (the source,
perhaps, of most of the other vices) envy; for it is a great and certain
truth, that Love worketh no evil.

Their general meetings at stated times, which all are obliged to be
present at, is a very strong cement of their love, and indeed of all
their other virtues; for, as the general register of their actions, which
we have before spoken of, is read at these meetings, those who have
deserved well of the community, are honoured by some token or distinction
in the sight of all the rest; and those who have done any thing against
their fundamental laws, have some mark of ignominy put upon them; for
they have no high sense of pecuniary rewards, and they think the
punishing of the body of little service towards amending the mind.
Experience has shown them, that, by keeping up this nice sense of honour
and shame, they are always enabled to keep their community in better
order than the most severe corporeal punishments have been able to effect
in other governments.

But what has still more tended to preserve their happiness is, that they
know no other use of riches than the enjoyment of them; but, as the word
is liable to be misconstrued by many of our readers, we think it
necessary to inform them, we do not mean by it that sordid enjoyment
which the miser feels when he bolts up his money in a well-secured iron
chest, or that delicious pleasure he is sensible of when he counts over
his hoarded stores, and finds they are increased with a half-guinea, or
even a half-crown; nor do we mean that enjoyment which the well-known Mr.
K---, {12} the man-eater, feels when he draws out his money from his
bags, to discount the good bills of some honest but distressed tradesman
at fifteen or twenty per cent.

The people we are speaking of are happily ignorant of such enjoyment of
money, for they know no other use of it than that of promoting mirth and
good humour; for which end they generously bring their gains into a
common stock, whereby they whose gains are small have an equal enjoyment
with those whose profits are larger, excepting only that a mark of
ignominy is affixed on those who do not contribute to the common stock
proportionably to their abilities, and the opportunities they have of
gain; and this is the source of their uninterrupted happiness; for by
this means they have no griping usurer to grind them, lordly possessor to
trample on them, nor any envyings to torment them; they have no settled
habitations, but, like the Scythians of old, remove from place to place,
as often as their conveniency or pleasure requires it, which renders
their life a perpetual scene of the greatest variety.

By what we have said above, and much more that we could add, of the
happiness of these people, and of their peculiar attachment to each
other, we may account for what has been matter of much surprise to the
friends of our hero, viz., his strong attachment, for the space of above
forty years, to this community, and his refusing the large offers that
have been made to quit their society.--But to return to our history.

Thus was Mr. Carew initiated into the mysteries of a society, which, for
antiquity, need give place to none, as is evident from the name, as well
as their origin, which they derive from the Egyptians, one of the most
ancient and learned people in the world, and that they were persons of
more than common learning, who travelled to communicate their knowledge
to mankind.  Whether the divine Homer himself might not have been of this
society, will admit of a doubt, as there is much uncertainty about his
birth and education, though nothing is more certain than that he
travelled from place to place.

Mr. Carew did not continue long in it before he was consulted in
important matters: particularly Madam Musgrove, of Monkton, near Taunton,
hearing of his fame, sent for him to consult in an affair of difficulty.
When he came, she informed him, that she suspected a large quantity of
money was buried somewhere about her house, and if he would acquaint her
with the particular place, she would handsomely reward him.

Our hero consulted the secrets of his art upon this occasion, and after
long toil and study informed the lady, that under a laurel-tree in the
garden lay the treasure she anxiously sought for; but that her planet of
good fortune did not reign till such a day and hour, till which time she
should desist from searching for it; the good lady rewarded him very
generously with twenty guineas for his discovery.  We cannot tell whether
at this time our hero was sufficiently initiated in the art, or whether
the lady mistook her lucky hour, but the strict regard we pay to truth
obliges us to confess, that the lady dug below the roots of the
laurel-tree without finding the hidden treasure.

When he was further initiated in the art, he was consulted upon several
important matters, and generally gave satisfaction by his sagacious
answers.  In the meantime, his worthy parents sorrowed for him as one
that was no more, not being able to get the least tidings of him, though
they publicly advertised him, and sent messengers after him in every
direction; till, at the expiration of a year and a half, our hero having
repeated accounts of the sorrow and trouble his parents were in upon his
account, his heart melted with tenderness, and he repaired to his
father's house, at Brickley, in Devonshire.  As he was much disguised,
both in habit and countenance, he was not at first known by his parents;
but when he discovered himself, joy gushed out in full streams, stopping
the power of speech; but the warm tears they bedewed his cheeks with,
whilst they imprinted them with kisses, performed the office of the
tongue with more expressive eloquence; but the good heart and tender
parent will feel this much better than we can describe.  The whole
neighbourhood, partook of this joy; and there was nothing for some time
but ringing of bells, with public feasting, and other marks of festive
joy.

Mr. Carew's parents did every thing possible to render home agreeable to
him; every day he was engaged in some party of pleasure or other, and all
his friends strove who should entertain him, so that there seemed nothing
wanting to his happiness.  But the uncommon pleasure that he had enjoyed
in the community he had left, the freedom of their government, the
simplicity and sincerity of their manners, the frequent changes of their
habitation, the perpetual mirth and good humour that reigned amongst
them, and perhaps some secret presages of that high honour which he has
since arrived at; all these made too deep an impression to be effaced by
any other ideas; his pleasure therefore grew every day more and more
tasteless, and he relished none of those entertainments which his friends
daily provided for him.

For some time these unsatisfied longings after the community of gipseys
preyed upon his mind, his heart being too good to think of leaving his
fond parents again, without reluctance.  Long did filial piety and his
inclinations struggle for the victory; at length the last prevailed, but
not till his health had visibly suffered by these inward commotions.  One
day, therefore, without taking leave of any of his friends, he directed
his steps towards Brick-house, at Tiverton, where he had at first entered
into the community of the gipseys; and finding some of them there, he
joined their company, to the great satisfaction of them, as well as of
himself; they rejoiced greatly at having regained one who was likely to
be so useful a member to their community.

We are now entering into the busy part of our hero's life, where we shall
find him acting in various characters, and performing all with propriety,
dignity, and decorum.--We shall, therefore, rather choose to account for
some of the actions of our hero, by desiring the reader to keep in mind
the principles of the government of the mendicants, which are, like those
of the Algerines, and other states of Barbary, in a perpetual state of
hostility with most other people; so that whatsoever stratagems or
deceits they can over-reach them by, are not only allowed by their laws,
but considered as commendable and praise-worthy; and, as the Algerines
are looked upon as a very honest people by those who are in alliance with
them, though they plunder the rest of mankind; and as most other
governments have thought that they might very honestly attack any weak
neighbouring state, whenever it was convenient for them, and murder forty
or fifty thousand of the human species; we hope, to the unprejudiced eye
of reason, the government of the gipseys in general, and our hero as a
member of it, will not appear in so disadvantageous a light, for
exercising a few stratagems to over-reach their enemies, especially when
it is considered they never, like other states, do any harm to the
persons of their enemies, and nothing considerable to their fortunes.

Our hero being again admitted at the first general assembly of the
gipseys, and having taken the proper oaths of allegiance to the
sovereign, was soon after sent out by him on a cruise upon their enemies.

Our hero's wit was now set to work, by what stratagems he might best
succeed.  The first that occurred to his thoughts was that of equipping
himself with an old pair of trowsers, enough of a jacket to cover his
nakedness, stockings such as nature gave, shoes (or rather the body of
shoes, for soles they had none) which had leaks enough to sink a first
rate man of war, and a woollen cap, so black that one might more safely
swear it had not been washed since Noah's flood, than any electors can
that they receive no bribes.  Being thus attired, our hero changed his
manners with his dress; he forgot entirely his family, education, and
politeness, and became neither more nor less than an unfortunate
shipwrecked seaman.

Here, if we may be allowed to compare great things with small, we could
wish that all orders of men were strict imitators of our hero; we mean
that they would put on the characteristics and qualifications of their
employment, at the same time they invest themselves with the ensigns of
it; that the divine, when he puts on his sacred and venerable habit,
would clothe himself with piety, goodness, gentleness, long-suffering,
charity, temperance, contempt of filthy lucre, and other godlike
qualifications of his office; that the judge, at the time he puts on his
ermined robes, would put on righteousness and equity as an upper garment,
with an integrity of mind more white and spotless than the fairest
ermine; that the grave physician, when he puts on his large perriwig,
would put under it the knowledge of the human frame, of the virtues and
effects of his medicines, of the signs and nature of diseases, with the
most approved and experienced forms of cure; that the mechanic, when he
puts on his leather or woollen apron, put on diligence, frugality,
temperance, modesty, and good nature; and that kings themselves, when the
crown, which is adorned with pearls and many precious stones, is put on
their heads, would put on at the same time the more inestimable gems of
all the precious virtues; that they would remember at times, they were
invested with the dalmatica at their coronation, only as an emblem of the
ornament of a good life and holy actions; that the rod they received was
the rod of virtue and equity, to encourage and make much of the godly,
and to terrify the wicked; to show the way to those that go astray, and
to offer the hand to those that fall; to repress the proud, and to lift
up the lowly; and the sword they were girt with, was to protect the
liberties of their people, to defend and help widows and orphans, restore
the things which have gone to decay, maintain those which are restored,
and confirm things that are in good order.

As to our hero, he so fully put on the character of a shipwrecked seaman,
that in his first excursion he gained a very considerable booty, having
likewise ingeniously imitated the passes and certificates that were
necessary for him to travel with unmolested.

After about a month's travel, he accidentally, at Kingsbridge, in
Devonshire, met with Coleman, his late school-fellow, one of those who
entered with him into the community, as before related, but had, after a
year and a half's sojourn, left them and returned to his friends:
however, not finding that satisfaction among them as with the gipseys, he
had again joined that people--great was the joy, therefore, of these two
friends at their meeting, and they soon agreed to travel together for
some time; and accordingly proceeded to Totness, from thence to the city
of Exeter, where they raised a contribution in one day amounting to
several pounds.

Having obtained all he could desire from this stratagem, his fruitful
invention soon hinted another.  He now became the plain honest country
farmer, who, living in the Isle of Sheppy, in Kent, had the misfortune to
have his grounds overflowed, and all his cattle drowned.  His habit was
now neat but rustic; his air and behaviour simple and inoffensive; his
speech in the Kentish dialect; his countenance dejected; his tale
pitiful--wondrous pitiful; a wife and seven helpless infants being
partakers of his misfortunes; so that if his former stratagem answered
his wishes, this did still more so, he now getting seldom less than a
guinea a day.

Having raised a considerable booty by these two stratagems, he made the
best of his way towards Straton, in Devonshire, where was soon to be held
a general assembly of the gipseys: here he was received with great
applause, on account of the successful stratagems he had executed, and he
had an honourable mark of distinction bestowed upon him, being seated
near the king.

Though our hero, by means of these stratagems, abounded with all the
pleasures he could desire, yet he began now to reflect with himself on
that grand and noble maxim of life, that we are not born for ourselves
only, but indebted to all mankind, to be of as great use and service to
them, as our capacities and abilities will enable us to be; he,
therefore, gave a handsome gratuity to a famous rat-catcher (who assumed
the honour of being rat-catcher to the king,) to be initiated into that,
and the still more useful secret of curing madness in dogs or cattle.

Our hero, by his close application, soon attained so considerable a
knowledge in his profession, that he practised with much success and
applause, to the great advantage of the public in general, not confining
the good effects of his knowledge to his own community only, but
extending them universally to all sorts of people, wheresoever they were
wanted; for though we have before observed that the mendicants are in a
constant state of hostility with all other people, and Mr. Carew was as
alert as any one in laying all manner of schemes and stratagems to carry
off a booty from them; yet he thought, as a member of the grand society
of human kind, he was obliged to do them all the good in his power, when
it was not opposite to the interest of that particular community of which
he was a member.

Mr. Carew's invention being never at a loss, he now formed a new
stratagem; to execute which, he exchanged his habit, shirt, &c., for only
an old blanket; shoes and stockings he laid aside, because they did not
suit his present purpose.  Being thus accoutred, or rather unaccoutred,
he was now no more than Poor Mad Tom, whom the foul fiend had led through
fire and through flame, through ford and whirlpool, over bog and
quagmire, that hath laid knives under his pillow, and halters in his pew,
set ratsbane by his porridge, made him proud at heart to ride on a bay
trotting horse over four-inch bridges, to curse his own shadow for a
traitor; who eats the swimming frog, the toad, the tadpole, the
wall-newt, and the water-newt; that in the fury of his heart, when the
foul fiend rages, swallows the old rat and ditch dog, drinks the green
mantle off the standing pool;

    And mice and rats, and such small gear,
    Have been Tom's food for seven long year.

O do, de, do, de, do, de; bless thee from whirlwind, star-blasting, and
taking; do poor Tom some charity, whom the foul fiend vexes; there could
I have him now, and there, and there again, and there; through the sharp
hawthorn blows the cold wind; Tom's a-cold! who gives any thing to poor
Tom?--In this character, and with such like expressions, our hero entered
the house both of great and small, claiming kindred to them, and
committing all manner of frantic actions; such as beating himself,
offering to eat coals of fire, running against the wall, and tearing to
pieces those garments that were given him to cover his nakedness; by
which means he raised very considerable contributions.

But these different habits and characters were still of farther use to
our hero, for by their means he had a better opportunity of seeing the
world, and knowing mankind, than most of our youths who make the grand
tour; for, as he had none of those petty amusements and raree-shows,
which so much divert our young gentlemen abroad, to engage his attention,
it was wholly applied to the study of mankind, their various passions and
inclinations; and he made the greater improvement in his study, as in
many of his characters they acted before him without reserve or disguise.
He saw in little and plain houses hospitality, charity and compassion,
the children of frugality; and found under gilded and spacious roofs,
littleness, uncharitableness and inhumanity, the offspring of luxury and
riot; he saw servants waste their master's substance, and that there were
no greater nor more crafty thieves than domestic ones; and met with
masters who roared out for liberty abroad, acting the arbitrary tyrants
in their own houses:--he saw ignorance and passion exercise the rod of
justice; oppression, the handmaid of power; self-interest outweighing
friendship and honesty in the opposite scale; pride and envy spurning and
trampling on what was more worthy than themselves;--he saw the pure white
robes of truth sullied with the black hue of hypocrisy and dissimulation;
he sometimes, too, met much riches unattended by pomp and pride, but
diffusing themselves in numberless unexhausted streams, conducted by the
hands of two lovely servants, Goodness and Beneficence;--and he saw
honesty, integrity and goodness of mind, inhabitants of the humble cot of
poverty.

All these observations afforded him no little pleasure, but he felt a
much greater in the indulgence of the emotions of filial piety, paying
his parents frequent visits, unknown to them, in different disguises; at
which time, the tenderness he saw them express in their inquiries after
him (it being their constant custom so to do of all travellers) always
melted him into real tears.

It has been remarked, that curiosity, or the desire of knowledge, is that
which most distinguishes man from the brute, and the greater the mind is,
the more insatiable is that passion: we may, without flattery, say no man
had a more boundless one than our hero; for, not satisfied with the
observations he had made in England and Wales, (which we are well assured
were many more than are usually made by gentlemen before they travel into
foreign parts,) he now resolved to see other countries and manners.  He
was the more inclined to this, as he imagined it would enable him to be
of greater service to the community of which he was a member, by
rendering him capable of executing some of his stratagems with much
greater success.

He communicated this design to his school-fellow, Escott, one of those
who joined the gipseys with him, (for neither of the four wholly quitted
the community).  Escott very readily agreed to accompany him in his
travels, and there being a vessel ready to sail for Newfoundland, tying
at Dartmouth, where they then were, they agreed to embark on board her.
Nothing remarkable happened in their passage which relates to our hero;
we shall therefore pass it by, and land him safe in Newfoundland.  Having
remained there during the fishing season, he acquired all the information
he possibly could, and which he thought might be useful to him, and
returned in the same vessel to Dartmouth, from whence he had at first
sailed, bringing with him a surprising fierce and large dog, which he had
enticed to follow him, and made as gentle as a lamb, by an art peculiar
to himself.  Our hero was received with great joy by his fellow gipseys,
and they were loud in his praises, when they understood he had undertaken
this voyage to enable him to deceive his enemies with the greater
success.  He accordingly, in a few days, went out on a cruise in the
character of a shipwrecked sailor, lost in a vessel homeward bound from
Newfoundland, sometimes belonging to Pool, sometimes to Dartmouth, at
other times to other ports, and under such or such commander, according
as the newspapers gave account of such melancholy accidents.

If the booty he got before under this character was considerable, it was
much more so now, for being able to give an exact account of
Newfoundland, the settlements, harbours, fishery, and the inhabitants
thereof, he applied with great confidence to masters of vessels, and
gentlemen well acquainted with those parts; so that those to whom before
his prudence would not let him apply, now became his greatest
benefactors, as the perfect account he gave of the country engaged them
to give credit to all he asserted, and made them very liberal in his
favour.

It was about this time our hero became sensible of the power of love; we
mean of that sort which has more of the mind than the body, and is
tender, delicate and constant; the object of which remains constantly
fixed in the mind, and will not admit of any partner with it.  It was in
the town of Newcastle, so famous for its coal-works, which our hero
visited out of curiosity, appearing there undisguised and making a very
genteel appearance, that he became enamoured with the daughter of Mr.
Gray, an eminent surgeon there.  This young lady had charms perhaps equal
to any of her sex; and we might in that style, which one, who calls
himself an author of the first rate, calls the sublime, say, "Here was
whiteness, which no lilies, ivory, nor alabaster could match.  The finest
cambric might be supposed from envy to cover that bosom, which was much
whiter than itself;" but we must confess we always feel a cold horror
shoot through our limbs at the reading of this puerile sublime, and we
make no doubt but many other readers do the same, as it greatly tends to
make our hearts ache by putting us in mind of what our posteriors have
suffered for us at school.  We shall therefore content ourselves by
saying, this lady had charms sufficient to captivate the heart of any man
not unsusceptible of love; and they made so deep an impression upon our
hero, that they wholly effaced every object which before had created any
desire in him, and never permitted any other to raise them afterwards;
and, wonderful to tell, we have after about thirty years enjoyment, seen
him lament her occasional absence almost with tears, and talk of her with
all the fondness of one who had been in love but three days.  Our hero
tried all love's soft persuasions with his fair one in an honourable way;
and, as his person was very engaging, and his appearance genteel, he did
not find her greatly averse to the proposals.  As he was aware that his
being of the community of the gipseys might prejudice her against him
without examination, he passed with her for the mate of a collier's
vessel, in which he was supported by Captain L---n of Dartmouth, an old
acquaintance of our hero's, who then commanded a vessel lying at
Newcastle, and acknowledged him for his mate.  These assertions satisfied
the young lady very well, and she at length consented to exchange the
tender care and love of a parent for that of a husband.  The reader may
perhaps be surprised that she did not make any farther inquiries about
him; it is therefore necessary that we should inform him, that our hero
had engaged on his side a very eloquent and persuasive advocate or
counsellor, for we know not which denomination most properly belongs to
him; one, though still beardless, existed as soon as the first woman was
created, and has had ever since, till within this last century, very
great practice in the business of uniting both sexes for life; but of
late years a neighbouring counsellor, named self-interest, has by
underhand dealings, false insinuations, and mean suggestions, taken away
the greatest part of his business, so that he is seldom retained on
either side.  Our hero, however, engaged him in his service, and he
pleaded so strongly for him in the young lady, that he removed all her
objections, and silenced all her scruples, and at last persuaded her to
leave her home and venture on board Captain L---n's vessel with her
lover; for, though this counsellor, according to a very good picture of
him drawn by a famous master, has more of the wanton roguish smiles of a
boy in his countenance, than the formality, wisdom, and gravity of those
counsellors whom thou hast perhaps seen in Westminster-hall; and never
wore one of those ponderous perukes which are so essential to the
knowledge, wisdom, and eloquence of those gentlemen; yet we are assured
none of them ever equalled him in persuasive arguments, removing of
difficulties, and silencing of doubts; for he indeed differs in practice
from most of the counsellors we ever heard of: for, as these are apt to
puzzle and perplex their clients by their answers, and make intricate
what was plain before, on the contrary, the gentleman we are speaking of
had a wonderful faculty of making the greatest difficulties plain and
easy, and always answered every objection and scruple to the entire
satisfaction of his client.

The lover and his fair one being on board, they soon hoisted sail, and
the very winds being willing to favour these two happy lovers, they had
an exceeding quick passage to Dartmouth, where they landed.  Our hero
being now no longer able to conceal his being a member of the community
of gipseys, after some previous introduction, declared it to the young
lady, who was not a little surprised and troubled at it; but the
counsellor we have already spoken of being near at hand, soon composed
her mind, by suggesting to her the worthy family her lover was sprung
from; that the community of the gipseys was more happy, and less
disreputable than she imagined, that the person of her lover was quite
amiable, and that he had good nature, and love enough to make her happy
in any condition.

As these suggestions entirely satisfied her, the lovers in a few days set
out for Bath, where they lawfully solemnized their nuptials with great
gaiety and splendour, and were those two persons whom many of the old
slanders at Bath remembered for many years after to have made such an
eclat, but nobody could, at the time, conjecture who they were, which was
the occasion of much speculation and many false surmises.

We cannot conclude on this head, but with the deserved praises of our
hero, from whose mouth we have had repeated assurance, that, during their
voyage to Dartmouth, and their journey from thence to Bath, not the least
indignity was offered to the innocence or modesty of his dear Miss Gray.

Our lovers began to be at length weary of the same repeated rounds of
pleasure at Bath, for at that time the wit of man had not reached so high
as the invention of that most charming, entertaining, never-cloying
diversion, called E, O, which seems to have been reserved among the
secrets of fate to do honour to the present age; for upon the nicest
scrutiny, we are quite convinced it is entirely new, and cannot find the
least traces of its being borrowed from any nation under the sun; for,
though we have with great pains and labour inquired into all the games
and diversions of the ancients; though we have followed untutored Indians
through all their revels, and though we have accurately examined into the
dull pleasures of the uncouth Hottentots; yet in all these we find either
some marks of ingenuity to exercise and refresh the mind, or something of
labour to invigorate the body;--we therefore could not avoid interrupting
our history, to do honour to this truly interesting and original game.

Our lovers having left Bath, visited next the city of Bristol, where they
stayed some time, and caused more speculation there than they had before
done at Bath, and did as much damage to that city as the famous Lucullus
did at Rome, on his return from his victorious expedition; we have some
reason to think they first introduced the love of dress among those plain
and frugal citizens.  After some stay here, they made a tour through
Somerset and Dorset to Hampshire, where they paid a visit to an uncle of
our hero's living then at Dorchester, near Gosport, who was a clergyman
of distinguished merit and character; here they were received with great
politeness and hospitality, and abode a considerable time.

His uncle took this opportunity of making use of every argument to
persuade him to quit the community of the gipseys; but our hero was so
thoroughly fixed in his principles, that even that argument which
oftentimes convinces patriots in a few hours, that all they said and did
before was wrong, that kings have a divine right to grind the faces of
their subjects, and that power which lays its iron hand on Nabal's goodly
vineyard, and says, "This is mine, for so I will," is preferable to
heavenly liberty, which says to every man, "Possess what is thine own,
reap what thou hast sown, gather what thou hast planted, eat, drink, and
lie down secure;" even this powerful argument had no effect upon our
hero; for, though his uncle made him very lucrative offers for the
present, and future promises of making him heir of all his possessions,
yet remembering his engagements with the gipseys, he rejected them all;
and reflecting that he had long lived useless to that community, he began
to prepare for his departure from his uncle's, in order to make some
incursions on the enemy.

To do this with more effect, he bethought himself of a new stratagem.  He
therefore equipped himself in a loose black gown, puts on a band, a large
white peruke, and a broad-brimmed hat;--his whole deportment was
agreeable to his dress;--his pace was solemn and slow, his countenance
thoughtful and grave, his eyes turned on the ground--but now and then
raised in seeming ejaculations to heaven: in every look and action he
betrayed his want, but at the same time seemed overwhelmed with that
shame which modest merit feels, when it is obliged to solicit the cold
hand of charity; this behaviour excited the curiosity of many gentlemen,
clergy, &c., to inquire into the circumstances of his misfortunes; but it
was with difficulty they could engage him to relate them, it being with
much seeming reluctance that he acquainted them with his having exercised
for many years the sacred office of a clergyman at Aberistwith, a parish
in Wales; but that the government changing, he had preferred quitting his
benefice, to taking an oath contrary to his principles and conscience.
This relation he accompanied with frequent sighs, deep marks of adoration
of the ways of Providence, and warm expressions of his firm trust and
reliance in its goodness and faithfulness, with high encomiums on the
inward satisfaction of a good conscience.  When he discoursed with any
clergyman, or other person of literature, he would now and then introduce
some Latin or Greek sentences, that were applicable to what they were
talking about, which gave his hearers a high opinion of his learning; all
this, and his thorough knowledge of those persons whom it was proper to
apply to, made this stratagem succeed even beyond his own expectations.
But now, hearing of a vessel bound to Philadelphia, on board of which
were many Quakers, being cast away on the coast of Ireland, he laid aside
his gown, cassock, and band, clothes himself in a plain suit, pulls the
button from his hat, and flaps it on every side; his countenance was now
demure, his language unadorned with any flowers of speech, and the words
You and Sir, he seemed to hold in abomination; his hat was moved to none,
for, though under misfortunes, he would not think of bowing the knee to
Baal.

With these qualifications, he addressed himself to persons of the
denomination of Quakers with great success (for indeed it is to be wished
that all other sects would imitate them in their readiness to relieve
their brethren); and hearing that there was to be a great meeting of them
from all parts, at a place called Thorncombe, in Devonshire, he makes the
best of his way there; and with a demure look and modest assurance enters
the assembly, where, making his case known, and satisfying them, by his
behaviour, of his being one of their sect, they made a very considerable
subscription for his relief.

So active was the mind of our hero, that he was never more happy than
when engaged in some adventure or other; therefore, when he had no
opportunity of putting any great stratagem in execution, he would amuse
himself with those which did not require so great a share of art and
ingenuity.  Whenever he heard of any melancholy accident by fire; he
immediately repaired to the place where it happened, and there, remarking
very accurately the spot, inquired into the cause of it, and getting an
exact information of the trades, characters, families, and circumstances
of the unhappy sufferers, he immediately assumed the person and name of
one of them; and burning some part of his coat and hat, as an ocular
demonstration of his narrow escape, he made the best of his way to places
at some distance, and there passed for one who had been burnt out; and to
gain credit, showed a paper signed with the names of several gentlemen in
the neighbourhood of the place where the fire happened, recommending him
as an honest unhappy sufferer, by which he got considerable sums.

Under this character, he had once the boldness to address Justice Hall,
of Exmouth, in Devon, the terror and professed enemy of every order of
the gipseys; however, our hero managed so artfully, though he went
through a strict examination, that he at last convinced his worship that
he was an honest miller, whose house, mill, and whole substance had been
consumed by fire, occasioned by the negligence of an apprentice boy, and
was accordingly relieved by the justice.

Coming one day to Squire Portman's, at Brinson, near Blandford, in the
character of a famous rat-catcher, with a hairy cap upon his head, a buff
girdle about his waist, and a tame rat in a little box by his side, he
boldly marched up to the house in this disguise, though his person was
well known by the family, and meeting in the court with Mr. Portman, the
Rev. Mr. Bryant, and several other gentlemen whom he well knew, but did
not suspect he should be known by them, he accosted them as a
rat-catcher, asking if their Honours had any rats to kill.  Do you
understand your business well? replied Mr. Portman.  Yes, and please your
honour; I have followed it many years, and have been employed in his
majesty's yards and ships.  Well, go in and get something to eat; and
after dinner we will try your abilities.

Our hero was accordingly placed at the second table to dinner, and very
handsomely entertained; after which he was called into a great parlour,
among a large company of gentlemen and ladies.  Well, honest Mr.
Rat-catcher, said Mr. Portman, can you lay any schemes to kill the rats,
without hurting my dogs?  Yes, boldly replied Mr. Carew, I shall lay it
where even cats can't climb to reach it.  And what countryman are you,
pray?  A Devonshire man, please your honour.  What may be your name?  Our
hero now perceiving, by the smiles and whispering of the gentlemen, that
he was known, replied very composedly, B, a, m, p, f, y, l, d, e, M, o,
o, r, e, C, a, r, e, w.  This occasioned a good deal of mirth; and Mr.
Carew asking what scabby sheep had infected the whole flock? was told,
Parson Bryant was the man who had discovered him, none of the other
gentlemen knowing him under his disguise: upon which, turning to the
parson, he asked him if he had forgotten good king Charles's rules?  Mr.
Pleydell, of St. Andrew's, Milbourn, expressed a pleasure at seeing the
famous Mr. Bampfylde Moore Carew, saying he had never seen him before.
Yes, but you have, replied he, and gave me a suit of clothes.  Mr.
Pleydell testified some surprise at this, and desired to know when it
was.  Mr. Carew asked him if he did not remember a poor wretch met him
one day at his stable-door with an old stocking round his head instead of
a cap, and a woman's old ragged mantle on his shoulders, no shirt on his
back, nor stockings to his legs, and scarce any shoes on his feet; and
that he asked him if he was mad? to which he replied No; but a poor
unfortunate man, cast away on the coast, and taken up, with eight others,
by a Frenchman, the rest of the crew, sixteen in number, being all
drowned; and that Mr. Pleydell having asked what countryman he was, gave
him a guinea and a suit of clothes.  Mr. Pleydell said he well remembered
such a poor object.  Well, replied our hero, that object was no other
than the rat-catcher now before you: at which all the company laughed
very heartily.  Well, said Mr. Pleydell, I will bet a guinea I shall know
you again, come in what shape you will: the same said Mr. Seymour, of
Handford.  Some of the company asserting to the contrary of this, they
desired our hero to try his ingenuity upon them, and then to discover
himself, to convince them of it.

This being agreed upon, and having received a handsome contribution of
this company, he took his leave; but Parson Bryant followed him out, and
acquainted him that the same company, and many more, would be at Mr.
Pleydell's on such a day, and advised him to make use of that opportunity
to deceive them all together; which our hero soon resolved to do.  He
therefore revolved in his mind what stratagem was most likely to succeed:
at length he fixed upon one, which he thought could not fail answering
his purpose.

When the day was come, the barber was called in to make his face as
smooth as his art could do, and a woman's gown and other female
accoutrements of the largest size were provided for him.  Having jumped
into his petticoats, pinned a large dowde under his chin, and put a
high-crowned hat on his head, he made a figure so comical that even
Hogarth's humour can scarcely parallel; yet our hero thought himself of
something else to render his disguise more impenetrable: he therefore
borrowed a little hump-backed child of a tinker, and two more of some
others of his community.  There remained now only in what situation to
place the children, and it was quickly resolved to tie two to his back,
and to take the other in his arms.

Thus accoutred, and thus hung with helpless infants, he marched forwards
for Mr. Pleydell's; coming up to the door, he put his hand behind him,
and pinched one of the children, which set it a roaring; this gave the
alarm to the dogs, so that between their barking and the child's crying,
the whole family was sufficiently disturbed.  Out came the maid, crying,
Carry away the children, old woman, they disturb the ladies.  God bless
their ladyships, I am the poor unfortunate grandmother to these poor
helpless infants, whose dear mother and all they had was burnt at the
dreadful fire at Kirton, and hope the good ladies, for God's sake, will
bestow something on the poor famishing starving infants.  This moving
story was accompanied with tears; upon which, the maid ran in to acquaint
the ladies with this melancholy tale, while the good grandmother kept
pinching one or other of the children, that they might play their parts
to greater perfection; the maid soon returned with a half crown from the
ladies, and some good broth, which he went into the court-yard to eat,
(understanding the gentlemen were not in the house,) and got one of the
under-servants, whom he met, to give some to the children on his back.
He had not long been there, before the gentlemen all came in together,
who accosted him with, Where did you come from, my good old woman?  From
Kirton, please your honours, where the poor unfortunate mother of these
helpless babes was burnt to death by the flames, and all they had
consumed.

D---n you, said one of the gentlemen, (who is well known by the name of
Worthy Sir, and was particularly acquainted with Mr. Carew,) there has
been more money collected for Kirton than ever Kirton was worth; however,
he gave this good old grandmother a shilling, the other gentlemen
likewise relieved her, commiserating her age, and her burden of so many
helpless infants; not one of them discovering our hero in the old woman,
who received their alms very thankfully, and pretended to go away.

But the gentlemen were not got into the house before their ears were
saluted with a "tantivy, tantivy," and halloo to the dogs, upon which
they turned about, supposing it to be some brother sportsman, but seeing
nobody, Worthy Sir swore the old woman they had relieved was Carew; a
servant therefore was dispatched to bring her back; and she was brought
into the parlour among the gentlemen, where, being examined, she
confessed herself to be the famous Mr. Bampfylde Moore Carew, which made
the gentlemen very merry, and they were now all employed in untying the
children from his back, and observing the features and dress of this
grandmother, which afforded them sufficient entertainment.  They
afterwards rewarded our hero for the mirth he procured them.

In the same manner he raised a contribution of Mr. Jones, of Ashton near
Bristol, twice in one day, who had maintained, with a gentleman of his
acquaintance, that he could not be so deceived.  In the morning, with a
sooty face, leather apron, a dejected countenance, and a woollen cap, he
was generously relieved as an unfortunate blacksmith, whose all had been
consumed by fire: in the afternoon he exchanged his logs for crutches;
his countenance was now pale and sickly, his gestures very expressive of
pain, his complaints lamentable, a poor unfortunate tinner, disabled from
maintaining himself, a wife, and seven children, by the damps and
hardships he had suffered in the mines; and so well did he paint his
distress, that the disabled tinner was now as generously relieved as the
unfortunate blacksmith had been in the morning.

Being now near the city of Bath, where he had not long before made so
great a figure with his new married bride, he was resolved to visit it in
a very different shape and character; he therefore tied up one of his
legs behind him, and supplied its place with a wooden one, and putting on
a false beard, assumed the character of a poor old cripple.  In this
disguise he had an opportunity of entertaining himself with the different
receptions he met with from every order of men now, from what he had done
before in his fine rich clothes.  The rich, who before saluted him with
their hats and compliments, now spurned him out of their way; the
gamesters overlooked him, thinking he was no fish for their net; the
chairmen, instead of Please your honour, d---d him; and the pumpers, who
attentively marked his nod before, now denied him a glass of water.  Many
of the clergy, those disciples of humility, looked upon him with a
supercilious brow; the ladies too, who had before strove who should be
his partner at the balls, could not bear the sight of so shocking a
creature: thus despised is poverty and rags, though sometimes the veil of
real merit; and thus caressed and flattered is finery, though perhaps a
covering for shame, poverty of soul, and abandoned profligacy.  One
character alone vouchsafed to look upon this contemptible object; the
good man looked upon him with an eye melting into tenderness and soft
compassion, while at the same time the hand which was stretched out to
relieve him, showed the heart felt all the pangs which it supposed him to
feel.  But, notwithstanding the almost general contempt, he raised very
considerable contributions; for, as some tossed him money out of pride,
others to get rid of his importunity, and a few, as above, out of a good
heart, it amounted to no small sum by the end of the season.

It is almost unnecessary to inform the reader, that these successful
stratagems gained him high applause and honour in the company of the
gipseys: he soon became the favourite of their king, who was very old and
decrepid, and had always some honourable mark of distinction assigned him
at their public assemblies.  These honours and applauses were so many
fresh spurs to his ingenuity and industry; so certain it is, that
wherever those qualities are honoured, and publicly rewarded, though but
by an oaken garland, there industry will outwork itself, and ingenuity
will exceed the common bounds of art.  Our hero, therefore, was
continually planning new stratagems, and soon executed a very bold one on
his grace the Duke of Bolton.  Coming to his seat near Basingstoke, in
Hampshire, he dressed himself in a sailor's ragged habit, and knocking at
the gate, desired of the porter, with a composed and assured countenance,
admittance to the duke, or at least that the porter would give his grace
a paper which he held in his hand; but, as he did not apply in a proper
manner to this great officer, (who we think may not improperly be styled
the turnkey of the gate) as he did not show him that passport which can
open every gate, pass by the surliest porter, and get admittance even to
kings, neither himself nor paper could gain any entrance.  However, he
was not disheartened with this, but waiting near the gate for some time,
he at last saw a servant come out, whom he followed, and, telling him
that he was a very unfortunate man, desired he would be so kind as to
introduce him where he might speak to his grace.  As this servant had no
interest in locking up his master, for that belonged to the porter only,
he very readily complied with his request, as soon as the porter was off
his stand; which he accordingly did, introducing him into a hall, where
the duke was to pass through soon.  He had not been long there before the
duke came in, upon which he clapped his knee to the ground, and very
graciously offered a paper to his hand for acceptance, which was a
petition, setting forth that the unfortunate petitioner, Bampfylde Moore
Carew, was supercargo of a large vessel that was cast away coming from
Sweden, in which were his whole effects, and none of which he had been
able to save.  The duke seeing the name of Bampfylde Moore Carew, and
knowing those names to belong to families of the greatest worth and note
in the west of England, inquired of what family he was, and how he became
entitled to those honourable names?  He replied, they were those of his
godfathers, the Honourable Hugh Bampfylde, and the Honourable Major
Moore.  The duke then asked him several questions about his friends and
relations, all of which he answers very fully; and the duke expressing
some surprise that he should apply for relief in his misfortunes to any
but his own family, who were so well able to assist him, he replied, he
had disobliged them by some follies in his youth, and had not seen them
for some years, but was now returning to them.  Many more questions did
the duke, and a lady who was present, ask him; all of which he answered
to their satisfaction.

As this was not a great while after his becoming a member of the
community of the gipseys, the duke had never heard that any of the noble
family of the Carews was become one of those people; and was very glad to
have it in his power to oblige any of that family; he therefore treated
him with respect, and called a servant to conduct him into an inner room,
where the duke's barber waited on him to shave him.  Presently after came
in a footman, who brought in a good suit of trimmed clothes, a fine
Holland shirt, and all the other parts of dress suitable to these.  As
soon as he had finished dressing, he was introduced to the duke again,
who complimented him on his genteel appearance, and not without reason,
as few did more honour to dress.  He was now desired to sit down by the
duke, with whom were many other persons of quality, who were all greatly
taken with his person and behaviour, and very much condoled his
misfortunes; so that a collection was soon made for him to the amount of
ten guineas.  The duke, being engaged to go out in the afternoon, desired
him to stay there that night, and gave orders that he should be
handsomely entertained, leaving his gentleman to keep him company; but
Mr. Carew, probably not liking his company so well as the duke's, took an
opportunity, soon after the duke was gone, to set out unobserved towards
Basingstoke, where he immediately went into a house which he knew was
frequented by some of his community.  The master of the house, who saw
him entering the door, cried out, Here's his Grace the Duke of Bolton
coming in! upon which there was no small hurry amongst the company.  As
soon as he entered, he ordered the liquor to flow very plentifully at his
private cost; his brethren discovering who he was, were greatly amazed at
the appearance he made, so different from the usual custom of their
order; but when he had informed them fully of the bold stratagem he had
executed, the whole place resounded with applause, and every one
acknowledged he was the most worthy of succeeding their present good old
and respected king.

As our hero's thoughts were bent on making still greater advantage of his
stratagem, he did not stay long with his brethren, but went to a
reputable inn, where he lodged, and set out the next morning for
Salisbury; here he presented his petition to the mayor, bishop, and other
gentlemen of great note and fortune, (applying to none but such who were
so,) and acquainted them with the favours he had received from his grace
the Duke of Bolton.  The gentlemen, having such ocular demonstration of
the duke's great liberality, treated him with great complaisance and
respect, and relieved him very generously, not presuming to offer any
small alms to one whom the Duke of Bolton had thought so worthy of his
notice.  In the same manner, and with the same success, he visited Lord
Arundel, Sir Edward Bouverie, and many other gentlemen in the counties of
Wilts, Dorset, and Somerset.  Coming into Devonshire, his native country,
he visited all his friends and most intimate acquaintance in that part,
and was relieved by them, not one of them discovering this unfortunate
supercargo to be Mr. Bampfylde Moore Carew.  Being one morning near the
seat of his friend Sir William Courtney, he was resolved to pay him three
visits that day: he went therefore to a house frequented by his order,
and there pulled off his fine clothes, and put on a parcel of rags; in
this dress he moved towards Sir William's: there, with a piteous moan, a
dismal countenance, and a deplorable tale, he got half-a-crown of that
gentleman, as a man who had met with misfortunes at sea; at noon he put
on a leather apron, a coat which seemed scorched by the fire, with a
dejected countenance applied again, and was relieved as an unfortunate
shoemaker, who had been burned out of his house, and all he had; in the
afternoon he went again in his trimmed clothes, and desiring admittance
to Sir William, with a modest grace and submissive eloquence he repeated
his misfortunes as the supercargo of a vessel which had been cast away,
and his whole effects lost, at the same time mentioning the kindness he
had received from his grace the Duke of Bolton.  Sir William, seeing his
genteel appearance and behaviour, treated him with that respect which the
truly great will always pay to those who supplicate their assistance, and
generously relieved him, presenting him with a guinea at his departure.
There happened to be at that time a great number of the neighbouring
gentlemen and clergy at dinner with Sir William, not one of whom
discovered who this supercargo was, except the Reverend Mr. Richards, who
did not make it known till he was gone; upon which Sir William dispatched
a servant after him, to desire him to come back.  When he entered the
room again, Sir William and the rest of the company were very merry with
him, and he was desired to sit down and give them an account by what
stratagem he had got all his finery, and what success he had with it,
which he did; after which he asked Sir William if he had not bestowed
half-a-crown that morning on a beggar, and at noon relieved a poor
unfortunate shoemaker.  I remember, replied Sir William, that I bestowed
such alms on a poor ragged wretch.  Well, said Mr. Carew, that ragged
wretch was no other than the supercargo now before you.  Sir William
scarcely crediting this, Mr. Carew withdrew, and putting on the same
rags, came again with the same piteous moan, dismal countenance, and
deplorable tale, as he had done in the morning, which fully convinced Sir
William that he was the same man, and occasioned much diversion in the
company; he was however introduced again, and seated among them in his
rags; Sir William being one of the few who pay a greater regard to the
man than the dress, can discern and support merit under rags, and despise
poverty of soul and worthlessness in embroidery; but, notwithstanding the
success of this stratagem, our hero always looked upon it as one of the
most unfortunate in his whole life; for, after he had been at Sir
William's, as above-mentioned, coming to Stoke Gabriel, near Totness, on
a Sunday, and having done that which discovered the nakedness of Noah, he
went to the Reverend Mr. Osburn, the minister of the parish, and
requested the thanksgivings of the church for the wonderful preservation
of himself, and the whole ship's crew, in the imminent danger of a
violent tempest of thunder and lightning, which destroyed the vessel they
were aboard of.  Though Mr. Osburn knew him very well, yet he had no
suspicion of its being him in disguise, therefore readily granted his
request; and not only so, but recommending him to his parishioners, a
handsome collection was made for him by the congregation, which he had
generosity enough to distribute among the poor of the parish, reserving
but a small part to himself.  Though this was bringing good out of evil,
he still speaks of it (after above thirty years lapse since the
commission) with the greatest regret and compunction of mind; for he is
sensible, that though he can deceive man, he cannot deceive God, whose
eyes penetrate into every place, and mark all our actions, and who is a
Being too awful to be jested with.

It was about this time the good old king of the mendicants, named Clause
Patch, well known in the city of London, and most parts of England,
finished a life of true glory, being spent in promoting the welfare of
his people.  A little before his death, finding the decays of nature
increase every day, and his final dissolution approach, he called
together all his children, to the number of eighteen, and summoned as
many of his subjects as were within a convenient distance, being willing
that the last spark of his life should go out in the service of his
people; this summons was obeyed with heavy hearts by his loving subjects,
and, at the day and place appointed, a great number assembled together.

The venerable old king was brought in a high chair, and placed in the
midst of them, his children standing next to him, and his subjects behind
them.  Reader, if thou hast ever seen that famous picture of Seneca
bleeding to death in the bath, with his friends and disciples standing
round him, then mayest thou form some idea of this assembly: such was the
lively grief, such the profound veneration, such the solemn attention
that appeared in every countenance; but we can give thee no adequate idea
of the inward joy which the good old king felt at his seeing such
unfeigned marks of love in his subjects, which he considered as so many
testimonies of his own virtues; for, certain it is that, when kings are
fathers of their people, their subjects will have for them more than the
filial love or veneration of sons.  The mind of man cannot conceive any
thing so august, as that of a king beloved by his subjects.  Could kings
but taste this pleasure at their first mounting the throne, instead of
drinking of the intoxicating cup of power, we should see them considering
their subjects as children, and themselves the fathers, to nourish,
instruct, and provide for them as a flock, and themselves the shepherds
to bring them to pleasant pastures, refreshing streams, and secure folds;
for some time the king of the mendicants sat contemplating these emotions
of his subjects, then bending forward, thus addressed them:--

"Children and friends, or rather may I call you all my children, as I
regard you all with a parental love, I have taken you from your daily
employments, that you may all eat and drink with me before I die.  I am
not courtier enough yet, however, to make my favours an honest loss to my
friends; but, before you depart, the book shall be examined, and every
one of you shall receive from my privy purse, the same sum that you made
by your business this day of the last week.  Let not this honest act of
generosity displease my heirs; it is the last waste I shall make of their
stores: the rest of what I die possessed of is theirs by right, but my
counsel, though directed to them only, shall be of public good to all.
The good success, my dear children, with which it has pleased heaven to
bless my industry in this our calling, has given me the power of
bestowing one hundred pounds on each of you, a small, but improvable
fortune, and of most use, as it is a proof that every one of you may gain
as much as the whole, if your own idleness or vice prevent it not;--mark
by what means!  Our community, like people of other professions, live
upon the necessities, the passions, or the weaknesses of their
fellow-creatures.  The two great passions of the human breast are vanity
and pity; both these have great power in men's actions, but the first the
greater far; and he who can attract these the most successfully, will
gain the largest fortune.

"There was a time when rules for doing this were of more worth to me than
gold; but now I am grown old, my strength and senses fail me, and I am
past being an object of compassion.  A real scene of affliction moves few
hearts to pity: dissembled wretchedness is what most reaches the human
mind, and I am past dissembling.  Take therefore among you, the maxims I
have laid down for my own guide, and use them with as much success as I
have done.

"Be not less friends because you are brothers, or of the same profession:
the lawyers herd together in their inns, the doctors in their college,
the mercers on Ludgate-hill, and the old clothes-men in Monmouth-street:
what one has not among these another has; and among you the heart of him
who is not moved by one lamentable object, will probably be so by
another; and that charity which was half awakened by the first, will
relieve a second, or a third.  Remember this, and always people a whole
street with objects skilled in scenes of different distress, placed at
proper distances: the tale that moves not one heart, may surprise the
next,--the obdurate passer-by of the first must be made of no human
matter if he feels no part of the distress that twenty different tales
have heaped together; and be assured, that where it is touched with a
kindred misfortune, it will bestow.

"Remember, that where one gives out of pity to you, fifty give out of
kindness to themselves, to rid them of your troublesome application; and
for one that gives out of real compassion, five hundred do it out of
ostentation.  On these principles, trouble people most who are most busy,
and ask relief where many see it given, and you'll succeed in your
attempt.  Remember that the streets were made for people to walk, and not
to converse in: keep up their ancient use; and whenever you see two or
three gathered together, be you amongst them, and let them not hear the
sound of their own voices till they have bought off the noise of yours.
When self-love is thus satisfied, remember social virtue is the next
duty, and tell your next friend where he may go and obtain the same
relief, by the same means.

"Trouble not yourselves about the nobility: prosperity has made them vain
and insensible: they cannot pity what they cannot feel.

"The talkers in the street are to be tolerated on different conditions,
and at different prices; if they are tradesmen, their conversation will
soon end, and may be well paid for by a halfpenny: if an inferior clings
to the skirt of a superior, he will give twopence rather than be pulled
off; and when you are happy enough to meet a lover and his mistress,
never part with them under sixpence, for you may be sure they will never
part from one another.

"So much regards communities of men; but when you hunt single, the great
game of all is to be played.  However much you ramble in the day, be sure
to have some street near your home, where your chief residence is, and
all your idle time is spent, for the night.  Here learn the history of
every family, and whatever has been the latest calamity; of that provide
a brother or a sister that may pretend the same.  If the master of one
house has lost a son, let your eldest brother attack his compassion on
that tender side, and tell him he has lost the sweetest, hopefullest, and
dutifullest child, that was his only comfort: what would the answer be,
but, aye, poor fellow! I know how to pity thee in that; and a shilling be
in as much haste to fly out of his pocket as the first tear from his eye.

"Is the master of a second house sick? waylay his wife from morning till
night, and tell her you will pray, morning, noon, and night for his
recovery.  If he dies, grief is the reigning passion for the first
fortnight, let him have been what he would: grief leads naturally to
compassion, so let your sister thrust a pillow under her coats, tell her
she is a poor disconsolate widow, left with seven small children, and
that she lost the best husband in the world; and you may share
considerable gains.

"Whatever people seem to want, give it them largely in your address to
them: call the beau Sweet Gentleman, bless even his coat or perriwig, and
tell him they are happy ladies where he is going.  If you meet with a
schoolboy-captain, such as our streets are full of, call him Noble
General; and if the miser can be any way got to strip himself of a
farthing, it will be by the name of Charitable Sir.

"Some people show you in their looks the whole thoughts of their heart,
and give you a fine notice how to succeed with them: if you meet a
sorrowful countenance with a red coat, be sure the wearer is a disbanded
officer: let a female always attack him, and tell him she is the widow of
a poor marine, who had served twelve years, and then broke his heart
because he was turned out without a penny; if you see a plain man hang
down his head as he comes out of some nobleman's gate, say to him, Good
worthy sir, I beg your pardon, but I am a poor ruined tradesman, that
once was in a good business, but the great people would not pay me.  And
if you see a pretty woman with a dejected look, send your sister that is
at hand, to complain to her of a bad husband, that gets drunk and beats
her; that runs to whores, and has spent all her substance: there are but
two things that can make a handsome woman melancholy: the having a bad
husband, or the having no husband at all; if the first of these is the
case, one of the former crimes will touch her to the quick, and loosen
the strings of her purse; in the other, let a second distressed object
tell her she was to have been married well, but that her lover died a
week before; one way or other the tender heart of the female will be
melted, and the reward will be handsome.  If you meet a homely, but
dressed-up lady, pray for her lovely face, and beg a penny; if you see a
mark of delicacy by the drawing up of the nose, send somebody to show her
a sore leg, a scalded head, or a rupture.  If you are happy enough to
fall in with a tender husband leading his big wife to church, send
companions that have but one arm, or two thumbs, or tell her of some
monstrous child you have brought forth, and the good man will pay you to
be gone, if he gives slightly, it is but following, getting before the
lady, and talking louder, and you may depend upon his searching his
pocket to better purpose a second time.  There are many more things of
which I have to speak, but my feeble tongue will not hold out.  Profit by
these: they will be found sufficient, and if they prove to you, my
children, what they have been to me these eighteen years, I shall not
repine at my dissolution."

Here he paused for some time, being almost spent: then, recovering his
voice and spirits, he thus began again: "As I find the lamp of life is
not quite extinguished, I shall employ the little that remains in saying
a few words of my public conduct as your king.  I call heaven to witness,
that I have loved you all with a paternal love: these now feeble limbs
and broken spirits have been worn out in providing for your welfare, and
often have these dim eyes watched while you have slept, with a father's
care for your safety.  I call you all to witness that I have kept an
impartial register of your actions, and no merit has passed unnoticed.  I
have, with a most exact hand, divided to every man his due portion of our
common stock, and have had no worthless favourite nor useless officer to
eat the honey of your labour.  And for all these I have had my reward, in
seeing the happiness, and having the love of all my subjects.  I depart,
therefore, in peace, to rest from my labours; it remains only that I give
you my last advice, which is, that in choosing my successor, you pay no
partial regard to my family, but let him only that is most worthy rule
over you."  He said no more, but, leaning back in his chair, died without
a sigh.

Never was there a scene of more real distress, or more unfeigned grief,
than now appeared among his children and subjects.  Nothing was heard but
sighs and exclamations for their loss.  When the first transports of
their grief were over, they sent the sorrowful news to all the houses
that were frequented by their community in every part of the kingdom; at
the same time summoning them to repair to the city of London on a certain
day, in order to proceed to the election of a new king.

Before the day appointed for the election a vast concourse of mendicants
flocked from all parts of the kingdom to the city of London; for every
member of the community has a right to vote in the choice of their king,
as they think it inconsistent with that of natural liberty, which every
man is born heir to, to deny any one the privilege of making his own
choice in a matter of so great importance.

Here, reader, as thou wilt be apt to judge from what thou hast seen, thou
already expectest a scene of riot and debauchery; to see the candidates
servilely cringing, meanly suing, and basely bribing the electors,
depriving themselves of sense and reason, and selling more than Esau did
for a mess of pottage; for, what is birthright, what is inheritance, when
put in the scale against that choicest blessing, public liberty!  O,
Liberty! thou enlivener of life, thou solace of toils, thou patron of
virtue, thou encourager of industry, thou spring of justice, thou
something more than life, beyond the reach of fancy to describe, all
hail!  It is thou that beamest the sunshine in the patriot's breast; it
is thou that sweetenest the toil of the labouring mechanic! thou dost
inspire the ploughman with his jocund mirth, and thou tunest the merry
milk-maid's song; thou canst make the desert smile, and the barren rock
to sing for joy; by thy sacred protection the poorest peasant lies secure
under the shadow of his defenceless cot, whilst oppression at a distance
gnashes with her teeth, but dares not show her iron rod; and power, like
the raging billows, dashes its bounds with indignation, but dares not
overpass them.  But where thou art not, how changed the scene! how
tasteless, how irksome labour! how languid industry!  Where are the
beauteous rose, the gaudy tulip, the sweet-scented jessamine? where the
purple grape, the luscious peach, the glowing nectarine? wherefore smile
not the valleys with their beauteous verdure, nor sing for joy with their
golden harvest?  All are withered by the scorching sun of lawless power!
Where thou art not, what place so sacred as to be secure? or who can say,
this is my own!  This is the language only of the place where thou
delightest to dwell; but, as soon as thou spreadest thy wings to some
more pleasing clime, power walks abroad with haughty strides, and
tramples upon the weak, whilst oppression, with its heavy hand, bows down
the unwilling neck to the yoke.  O, my Country! alas, my Country! thou
wast once the chosen seat of liberty; her footsteps appeared in thy
streets, thy palaces, thy public assemblies: she exulted in thee: her
voice, the voice of joy and gladness was heard throughout the land: with
more than a mother's love she held forth her seven-fold shield to protect
thee, the meanest of her sons; whilst justice, supported by law, rode
triumphant by her side with awful majesty, and looked into fear and
trembling every disturber of the public quiet.  O, thou whom my soul
loveth, wherefore dost thou sit dejected, and hidest thy face all the day
long?  Canst thou ask the reason of my grief?  See, see, my generous
hardy sons are become foolish, indolent, effeminate, thoughtless; behold,
how with their own hands they have loaded me with shackles: alas! hast
thou not seen them take the rod from my beloved sister, Justice, and give
it to the sons of blood and rapine?  Yet a little while I mourn over lost
and degenerate sons, and then with hasty flight fix my habitation in some
more happy clime.

Though the community of the gipseys at other times give themselves up to
mirth and jollity with perhaps too much licence, yet nothing is reckoned
more infamous and shameful amongst them than to appear intoxicated during
the time of an election, and it very rarely happens that any of them are
so, for they reckon it a choice of so much importance, that they cannot
exert in it too much judgment, prudence, and wisdom; they therefore
endeavour to have their faculties strong, lively, penetrating, and clear
at that time.  Their method of election is different from that of most
other people, though, perhaps, it is the best contrived of any, and
attended with the fewest inconveniences.  We have already observed, that
none but those who have long been members of the community, are well
acquainted with the institution of it, and have signalized themselves by
some remarkable actions, are permitted to offer themselves as candidates.
These are obliged, ten days before the election, to fix up in some place
of their public resort an account of those actions, upon the merit of
which they found their pretensions of becoming candidates; to which they
must add their opinions on liberty, and the office and duties of a king.
They must, during these ten days, appear every day at the place of
election, that their electors may have an opportunity of forming some
judgment from the lineaments and prognostics of their countenance.  A few
days before the election, a little white ball, and as many black ones as
with the white one will equal the number of candidates, are given to each
elector.

When the day of election is come, as many boxes are placed as there are
candidates, with the name of the particular candidate written on the box
which is appropriated to him; these boxes are quite closed, except a
little opening at the top, which is every night, during the election,
locked up under the keys and seals of each candidate, and of six of the
most venerable old men in the community; it is in the little opening at
the top of these boxes, that the elector puts in the little ball we have
just now mentioned; at the same time he puts his white ball into the box
of the candidate whom he chooses to be his king, he puts a black ball
into the boxes of all the other candidates; and when they have all done
so, the boxes are broken open, and the balls counted in presence of all
the candidates, and of as many electors as choose it, by the old men
above mentioned; and he who has the greatest number of white balls is
always duly chosen.  By this means no presiding officer has it in his
power to make one more than two, which sometimes happens in the elections
amongst other communities, who do not use this form.  There are other
innumerable advantages attending this manner of election, and it is
likely to preserve public liberty the longest; for, first, as the
candidates are obliged to fix up publicly an account of those actions
upon the merit of which they become candidates, it deters any but those
who are truly worthy from offering themselves; and, as the sentiments
which each of them gives upon public liberty, and the duty and office of
a king, is immediately entered in their public register, it stands as a
public witness against, and a check upon that candidate who is chosen, to
deter him from a change of sentiments and principles; for, though in some
countries this is known to have little effect, and men have on a sudden,
without any alteration in the nature of things, shamelessly espoused
those principles and sentiments, which they had vehemently all their life
before opposed, yet in this community, where there is so high a sense of
honour and shame kept up, it must necessarily be none of the least
binding obligations.  Secondly, by this method of balloting, or giving
their votes by balls, the elector's choice is more free and unbiassed;
for, as none but himself can know the candidate he gives his white ball
to, there can be no influence of fear, interest, ties of blood, or any
other cause, to oblige him to give his vote contrary to his judgment;
even bribes, if they were known amongst these people, would lose their
effect under this method of voting; because few candidates would choose
to bribe, when they could have no security or knowledge whether the
bribed elector might have put a black ball instead of a white one into
his box.

Our hero was now one of the candidates, and exhibited to the electors so
long a list of bold and ingenious stratagems which he had executed, and
made so graceful and majestic an appearance in his person, that he had a
considerable majority of white balls in his box, though there were ten
candidates for the same honour; upon which he was declared duly elected,
and hailed by the whole assembly, King of the Mendicants.  The public
register of their actions being immediately committed to his care, and
homage done him by all the assembly, the whole concluded with great
feasting and rejoicing, and the electors sang the following ode:

    I.

    Cast your nabs {58a} and cares away,
    This is Maunders' holiday;
    In the world look out and see,
    Where so blest a king as he! {58b}

    II.

    At the crowning of our king,
    Thus we ever dance and sing;
    Where's the nation lives so free,
    And so merrily as we!

    III.

    Be it peace, or be it war,
    Here at liberty we are:
    Hang all Harmenbecks, {58c} we cry,
    We the Cuffin Queres {58d} defy.

    IV.

    We enjoy our ease and rest,
    To the field we are not press'd;
    And when taxes are increased,
    We are not a penny sess'd.

    V.

    Nor will any go to law
    With a Maunder {58e} for a straw;
    All which happiness, he brags,
    Is only owing to his rags.

Though Mr. Carew was now privileged by the dignity of his office from
going out on any cruise, and was provided with every thing necessary, by
joint contributions of the community, yet he did not give himself up to
the slow poison of the mind, indolence, which, though its operations are
imperceptible, is more hurtful and fatal than any of the quicker
passions; for we often see great virtues break through the cloud of other
vices, but indolence is a standing corrupted pool, which always remains
in the same state, unfit for every purpose.  Our hero, therefore,
notwithstanding the particular privilege of his office, was as active in
his stratagems as ever, and ready to encounter any difficulties which
seemed to promise success, of which the following is an instance.

Happening to be in the parish of Fleet, near Portland Race, in
Dorsetshire, he happened to hear in the evening of a ship in imminent
danger of being cast away, she having been driven on some shoals.  Early
in the morning, before it was well light, he pulled off his clothes,
which he flung into a deep pit, and then unseen by any one swam to the
vessel, which now parted asunder; he found only one of the crew alive,
who was hanging by his hands on the side of the vessel, the rest being
either washed overboard, or drowned in attempting to swim to the shore.
Never was there a more piteous object than this poor wretch hanging
between life and death; Mr. Carew immediately offered him his assistance
to get him to shore, at the same time inquiring the name of the vessel,
and her master, what cargo on board, whence she came, and whither bound.

The poor wretch replied, she belonged to Bristol, captain Griffin,
master, came from Hamburg, was bound to Bristol with a cargo of Hamburg
goods, and had seven men and a boy on board; at the same time our hero
was pressing him to let go his hold, and commit himself to his care, and
he would endeavour to swim with him to shore: but, when the danger is so
imminent, and death stands before our eyes, it is no easy matter to be
persuaded to quit the weakest stay; thus the poor wretch hesitated so
long before he would quit his hold of the vessel, that a large sea broke
upon the wreck, and overwhelmed him in the great deep.  Mr. Carew was in
no little danger, but, being an excellent swimmer, he with great
difficulty got to shore, though not without hurt, the sea throwing him
with great violence on the beach, whereby one of his arms was wounded.  By
this time a great number of spectators were gathered on the strand, who
rejoiced to see Mr. Carew come ashore alive, supposing him to be one of
the poor wretches belonging to the ship.  Naked, spent with fatigue, and
wounded, he raised a feeling of pity in all the spectators; for, so
strongly is this tender passion connected with our frame by the
beneficent Author of Nature, to promote the assistance of each other,
that, no sooner does the eye see a deplorable object, than the heart
feels it, and as quickly forces the hand to relieve it; so that those
whom the love of money, for we think that the greatest opposite to pity,
has rendered unfeeling of another's woes, are said to have no hearts, or
hearts of stone; as we naturally conclude no one can be void of that soft
and Godlike passion--pity, but either one who by some cause or other
happens to be made up without a heart, or one in whom continual droppings
of self-love or avarice have quite changed the nature of it; which, by
the most skilful anatomist, is allowed in its natural state to be fleshy,
soft, and tender; but has been found, without exception, upon inspection
into the bodies of several money lovers, to be nothing but a callous
stony substance, from which the chemists, by most intense fires, have
been able to extract nothing but a _caput mortuum_, or an earthy, dry,
useless powder.

Amongst the spectators of Mr. Carew, was the housekeeper of Madam Mohun,
in the parish of Fleet, who had a heart made of the softest substance;
for she immediately, agreeable to the beneficent precepts of the gospel,
pulled off her own cloak to give to him that had none: and, like the good
Samaritan, giving him a handkerchief to bind up his wounds, bid him
follow her, and led him to her mistress's house, where, placing him
before a good fire, she gave him two large glasses of brandy, with loaf
sugar in it; then bringing him a shirt and other apparel, she went up
stairs and acquainted Madam Mohun, her venerable mistress, in the most
feeling manner, with the whole affair.

Here, could we hope our work would last to future ages, we might
immortalize this generous woman.--Her mistress was so affected with her
relation, that she immediately ordered a warm bed to be prepared for the
poor wretch, and that he should be taken great care of, which was
accordingly soon done, and Mr. Carew lay very quiet for three or four
hours; then waking, he seemed to be very much disturbed in his mind; his
talk was incoherent, his groans moving, and he tossed from one side of
the bed to the other, but seemed to find ease in none: the good people
seeing him so uneasy in bed, brought him a good suit of clothes, and he
got up.  Being told the bodies of some of his shipmates were flung up by
the sea on the shore, he seemed greatly affected, and the tears dropped
from his eyes.  Having received from Justice Farwell, who happened to be
there, ill of the gout, a guinea and a pass for Bristol, and considerable
contributions from the great number of people who flocked to see him, to
the amount of nine or ten pounds, he expressed an inclination of making
the best of his way to Bristol: and the good Justice Farwell lent him his
own horse to ride as far as the town of Dorchester, and the parson of the
parish sent his man to show him the way.

Mr. Carew would have been gladly excused from going through Dorchester,
as he had appeared there but four or five days before in the character of
a broken miller, and had thereby raised a contribution of the mayor and
corporation of that place; but as it lay in the direct road to Bristol,
and he was attended by a guide, he could not possibly avoid it.  As soon
as they came there, his guide presented the pass in behalf of Mr. Carew
to the mayor, who thereupon ordered the town-bell to be rung, and
assembled the heads of the corporation.  Though he had been so lately
with them, yet, being now in a quite different dress, and a pass which
they knew to be signed by Justice Farwell, and the guide testifying that
he was an unfortunate shipwrecked seaman, escaped from the most imminent
danger, they had no notion of his being the broken miller who had been
with them a few days before; they therefore treated him with great
humanity, and relieved him very generously.  After this, the guide took
his leave of him with a great many good wishes for his safe arrival at
Bristol; but Mr. Carew, instead of pursuing his way thither, steered his
course towards Devonshire, and raised contributions by the way, as a
shipwrecked seaman, on Colonel Brown of Framton, Squire Trenchard, and
Squire Falford of Tolla, Colonel Broadrip, Colonel Mitchell, and Squire
Richards of Long Britty, and several other gentlemen.

It was not long after this, that, being in the city of Bristol, he put in
execution a very bold and ingenious stratagem.  Calling to mind one Aaron
Cook, a trader of considerable worth and note, at St. John's in
Newfoundland, whom he resembled both in person and speech, he resolved to
be the son of Aaron Cook for some time; he therefore went upon the
Tolsey, and other places of public resort for the merchants of Bristol,
and there modestly acquainted them with his name, as well as his
misfortunes; that he was born and lived all his life at St. John's in
Newfoundland; that he was bound for England, in the Nicholas, Captain
Newman; which vessel springing a leak, they were obliged to quit her, and
were taken up by an Irishman, Patrick Pore, and by him carried into
Waterford; whence he had got passage, and landed at King's Road; that his
business in England was to buy provisions and fishing craft, and to see
his relations, who lived in the parish of Cockington, near Torbay, where,
he said, his father was born.

Captains Elton, Galloway, Masters, Thomas, Turner, and several other
Newfoundland traders, many of whom personally knew his pretended father
and mother, asked him many questions about the family, their usual place
of fishing, &c., particularly if he remembered how the quarrel happened
at his father's (when he was but a boy) which was of so unhappy a
consequence to Governor Collins?  Mr. Carew very readily replied, that
though he was then very young, he remembered that the governor, the
parson and his wife, Madam Short, Madam Bengy, Madam Brown, and several
other women of St. John's, having met together, and feasting at his
father's, a warm dispute happened among the men in the heat of liquor,
concerning the virtue of women, the governor obstinately averring that
there was not one honest woman in all Newfoundland.  What think you then
of my wife? said the parson.  The same as I do of all other women, all
whores alike, answered the governor roughly.  Hereupon the women, not
able to bear this gross aspersion on their honour, with one accord
attacked the governor, who, being overpowered by their fury, could not
defend his face from being disfigured by their nails, nor his clothes
from being torn off his back; and what was much worse, the parson's wife
thinking herself most injured, cut the hamstring of his leg with a knife,
which rendered him a cripple his whole life after.

This circumstantial account, which was in every point exactly as the
affair happened, and many other questions concerning the family which the
captains asked him, and he as readily answered, (having got every
particular information concerning them when in Newfoundland,) fully
convinced them that he must really be the son of their good old friend
Mr. Aaron Cook; they therefore not only very generously relieved him, but
offered to lend him any moderate sum, to be paid again in Newfoundland,
the next fishing season; but Mr. Carew had too high a sense of honour to
abuse their generosity so far; he therefore excused himself from
accepting their offer, by saying he would be furnished with as much as he
should have occasion for, by merchant Pemm of Exeter.  They then took him
with them to Guildhall, recommending him to the benevolence of the mayor
and corporation, testifying he was a man of reputable family in
Newfoundland.  Here a very handsome collection was made for him; and the
circumstances of his misfortunes becoming public, many other respectable
ladies and gentlemen gave him that assistance according to their
abilities, which is always due to unfortunate strangers.  Three days did
the captains detain him by their civilities in Bristol, showing him all
the curiosities and pleasures of the place to divert his melancholy.  He
then set out for Cockington, where his relations lived, and Bridgewater
being on his road, he had a letter, from one of the Bristol captains, to
Captain Drake in that place.

As soon as he came to Bridgewater, he went directly to the mayor's house,
and knocking at the gate, it was opened to him by madam mayoress, to whom
he related his misfortune; and the good lady, pitying him as an
unfortunate stranger, so far distant from his home, gave him
half-a-crown, and engaged her daughter, a child, to give him a shilling.

We cannot pass by this amiable lady, without paying her the due tribute
of praise; for tenderness and compassion ought to be the peculiar
ornament of every female breast; and it were to be wished that every
parent would betimes, like this good lady, instil into their children a
tender sense of humanity, and feeling for another's woes, they would by
this means teach them the enjoyment of the most godlike and pleasing of
all other pleasures, that of relieving the distressed; and would
extinguish that sordid selfish spirit, which is the blot of humanity.
The good lady not content with what she had already done, ushered him
into the room, where her husband, an aged gentleman, was writing; to whom
she related Mr. Cook's misfortunes in as moving a manner as she was able;
the old gentleman laid aside his spectacles, and asked him several
questions, then dispatched his servant into the town, who soon returned
with two Newfoundland captains, one of whom happened to be Captain Drake,
to whom our hero had a letter of recommendation given him by one of the
Bristol captains; and the other Captain Morris, whose business having
called him to Bristol, he had there been already informed by the captains
of the circumstances of Mr. Cook's misfortunes; and he repeating the same
now to the mayor, Captain Morris confirmed this relation, told them how
he had been treated at Bristol, and made him a present of a guinea and a
greatcoat, it being then very rainy weather; Captain Drake likewise gave
him a guinea, for both these gentlemen perfectly well knew Mr. Cook's
father and mother; the mayor likewise made him a present, and entertained
him very hospitably in his house.

In the same character he visited Sir Haswell Tent, and several other
gentlemen, raising considerable contributions.

This activity and ingenuity of their new king was highly agreeable to the
community of the mendicants, and his applauses resounded at all their
meetings; but, as fortune delights to change the scene, and of a sudden
to depress those she had most favoured, we come now to relate the
misfortunes of our hero, though we know not whether we should call them
by that name or not, as they gave him a large field of action, and
greater opportunities of exercising the more manly virtues--courage and
intrepidity in dangers.

Going one day to pay a visit to Mr. Robert Incledon, at Barnstaple in
Devon, (in an ill hour which his knowledge could not foresee,) knocking
at the door softly, it was, opened to him by the clerk, with the common
salutation of How do you do, Mr. Carew? where have you been?  He readily
replied, that he was making a visit to Squire Bassar, and in his return
had called to pay his respects to Mr. Incledon.

The clerk very civilly asked him to walk in; but no sooner had he entered
than the door was shut upon him by Justice Leithbridge, a very bitter
enemy to the whole community of mendicants, who concealed himself behind
it, and Mr. Carew was made a prisoner;--so sudden are the vicissitudes of
life; and misfortunes spring as it were out of the earth.

Thus suddenly and unexpectedly fell the mighty Caesar, the master of the
world; and just so affrighted Priam looked when the shade of Hector drew
his curtains, and told him that his Troy was taken.

The reader will, undoubtedly, be at a loss to comprehend why he was thus
seized upon, contrary to the laws of hospitality; it is therefore our
business to inform him, that he had, some time before this, in the shape
of a poor lame cripple, frightened either the justice or his horse on
Hilton bridge; but which of the two it was, cannot be affirmed with any
certainty.  However, the justice vowed a dire revenge, and now exulted
greatly at having got him in his power; fame had no sooner sounded with
her hundred prattling tongues that our hero was in captivity, but the
justice's house was crowded with intercessors for him:--however, Justice
Leithbridge was deaf to all, and even to the entreaties of
beauty,--several ladies being likewise advocates for him; whether it was
that the justice was past that age when love shoots his darts with most
success, or whether his heart was always made of that unmalleable stuff
which is quite unassailable by love, or by his cousin-german, pity, we
cannot well determine.

Amongst the rest who came to see him, were some captains of collier
vessels, whom the justice espying, very probably taking some disgust at
their countenances, demanded who they were, and immediately discharging
the guard which had been before placed over Mr. Carew, charged the
captains with the care of him, though they affirmed their vessels were to
sail the next tide; however the justice paying as little regard to their
allegations as he had done to their petitions for Mr. Carew, they found
they had no other hope but from the good-natured dame--Patience; a good
woman, who is always ready to render our misfortunes less, and was, in
all his adventures, a great friend to our hero.

At length a warrant was made out for conveying him to Exeter, and lodging
him in one of the securest places in that city; but, as it was now too
late to set forward on their journey that night, they were ordered to a
public house at Barnstaple; and the justice remembering the old proverb,
"fast bind, fast find," would fain have locked the door of the room where
Mr. Carew was, and taken the key with him; but the honest landlord
offering to become security for his appearance in the morning, the
justice was at last persuaded to be content without a jailor.

Mr. Carew, notwithstanding his situation, was not cast down, but bravely
opposed his ill fortune with his usual courage, and passed the night with
great cheerfulness in the company of the collier captains, who were his
guard.

The next day Mr. Carew was conducted to Exeter, without any thing
remarkable happening on the road; here, to his great annoyance, he was
securely lodged for upwards of two months, before he was brought to trial
at the quarter sessions, held at the castle, when Justice Bevis was
chairman; but that awful appearance,

                   The judges all met--a terrible show,

did not strike any terror into his breast; though loaded with chains, he
preserved his usual firmness of mind, and saluted the court with a noble
assurance.  Being asked by the chairman what parts of the world he had
been in? he answered Denmark, Sweden, Muscovy, France, Spain, Portugal,
Newfoundland, Ireland, Wales, and some parts of Scotland.  The chairman
then told him he must proceed to a hotter country:--he inquired into what
climate, and being told Merryland, he with great composure made a
critical observation on the pronunciation of that word, implying, that he
apprehended it ought to be pronounced Maryland, and added, it would save
him five pounds for his passage, as he was very desirous of seeing that
country: but, notwithstanding, he with great resolution desired to know
by what law they acted, as he was not accused of any crime; however,
sentence of banishment was passed upon him for seven years; but his fate
was not singular, for he had the comfort of having fellow companions
enough in his unmerited sufferings, as, out of thirty-five prisoners,
thirty-two were ordered into the like banishment.

Whether at that period of time mankind were more profligate than usual,
or whether there was a more than ordinary demand for men in his majesty's
colonies, cannot by us be determined.  Mr. Carew was not, as is most
commonly the case, deserted by his friends in adversity, for he was
visited during the time of his imprisonment by many gentlemen, who were
exceedingly liberal to him; and no sooner did the news of his captivity
reach the ears of his subjects, than they flocked to him from all parts,
administered to his necessities in prison, and daily visited him till his
departure.

This, and the thoughts of the many new scenes and adventures which he was
likely to encounter, whereby he might have an opportunity of making his
name as famous in America as it was already in Europe, often filled his
mind with too-pleasing reflections to regret his fate, though he could
have liked to have performed the voyage under more agreeable
circumstances; whenever the thought of being cruelly separated from his
beloved wife and daughters glanced on his mind, the husband and father
unmanned the hero, and melted him into tenderness and fear; the
reflection too of the damage his subjects might sustain by his absence,
and the disorder the whole community would be put in by it, filled him
with many disquietudes.

Thus, between pleasing ideas and heartfelt pangs, did he pass his time
till the day arrived that he was to be conducted on board the Julian,
Captain Froade, commander.  But how, gentle reader, shall I describe the
ceremony of parting--the last farewell of that dreadful day!

Leaving the reader, therefore, to suppose all these fine things, behold
the sails already spread, and the vessel cutting the waves; but, as if
fate had opposed itself to the banishment of our hero, the winds soon
proved contrary, and they were obliged to stay more than a fortnight in
Falmouth harbour for a fair wind, and from thence, in eleven weeks, they
arrived safely at Maryland, after a disagreeable voyage.

The first place they touched at was Hampton, between Cape Charles and
Cape Henry, where the captain went on shore and got a pilot; and after
about two days stay there, the pilot brought the vessel down Mile's
River, and cast anchor in Talbot county, when the captain ordered a gun
to be fired as a signal for the planters to come down, and then went
ashore.  He soon after sent on board a hogshead of rum, and ordered all
the men prisoners to be close shaved against the next morning, and the
women to have their best head-dresses put on, which occasioned no little
hurry on board; for, between the trimming of beards, and putting on of
caps, all hands were fully employed.

Early in the morning the captain ordered public notice to be given of the
day of sale; and the prisoners, who were pretty near a hundred, were all
ordered upon deck, where a large bowl of punch was made, and the planters
flocked on board; their first inquiry was for letters from old England,
what passage he had, how their friends did, and the like.

The captain informed them of the war being declared against Spain, that
it was expected it would soon be declared against France; and that he had
been eleven weeks and four days in his passage.

Their next inquiry was, if the captain had brought them good store of
joiners, carpenters, blacksmiths, weavers, and tailors; upon which the
captain called out one Griffy, a tailor, who had lived at Chumleigh, in
the county of Devon, and was obliged to take a voyage to Maryland, for
making too free with his neighbour's sheep.  Two planters, who were
parson Nicholas and Mr. Rolls, asked him if he was sound wind and limb?
and told him it would be worse for him if he told them an untruth; and at
last purchased him from the captain.  The poor tailor cried and bellowed
like a bell-wether, cursing his wife who had betrayed him.  Mr. Carew,
like a brave man, to whom every soil is his own country, ashamed of his
cowardice, gave the tailor to the devil; and, as he knew he could not do
without them, sent his shears, thimble, and needle, to bear him company.
Wherefore all these wailings? said our hero: have we not a fine country
before us? pointing to the shore.  And indeed in this he was very right,
for Maryland not only affords every thing which preserves and confirms
health, but also all things that are charming.  The beauty of the
prospect, the fragrancy of the fields and gardens, the brightness of the
sky, and the serenity of the air, affect the ravished senses; the country
being a large plain, and hills in it so easy of ascent, and of such a
moderate height, that they seem rather an artificial ornament to it, than
one of the accidents of nature.  The abundance of rivers and brooks is no
little help to the almost incredible fertility of the soil.

But to return.--When all the best tradesmen were bought up, a planter
came to Mr. Carew, and asked him what trade he was of.  Mr. Carew, to
satisfy him of his usefulness, told him he was a rat-catcher, a
mendicant, and a dog merchant.--What the devil trades are these? inquired
the planter in astonishment; for I have never before heard of them: upon
which the captain thinking he should lose the sale of him, takes the
planter aside, and tells him he did but jest, being a man of humour, for
that he was a great scholar, and was only sent over on account of having
disobliged some gentlemen; that he had no indenture with him, but he
should have him for seven years, and that he would make an excellent
school-master; however, he did not buy him.

The next day the captain asked him to go on shore with him to see the
country, but with a view of getting a purchaser for him among the
planters.  As they were walking, several people came up to Mr. Carew, and
asked him what countryman he was, &c.  At length they went to a tavern,
where one Mr. David Huxter, who was formerly of Lyme in Dorset, and Mr.
Hambleton, a Scotchman, seemed to have an inclination to buy him between
them; soon after came in one Mr. Ashcraft, who put in for him too, and
the bowl of punch went merrily round.  In the midst of their mirth, Mr.
Carew, who had given no consent to the bargain they were making for him,
thought it no breach of honour or good manners to seize an opportunity of
slipping away without taking leave of them; and taking away with him
about a pint of brandy and some biscuit cakes, which by good luck he
chanced to put his hand on, he immediately betook himself to the woods as
the only place of security for him.

Mr. Carew, having found he had eluded their search, congratulated himself
on his happy escape and deliverance; for he now made no doubt of getting
to old England again, notwithstanding the difficulties which lay in his
way, as he knew his courage was equal to every danger; but we are too
often apt, as the proverb says, "to reckon without our host," and are
sometimes near danger when we think ourselves most secure: and so it
happened to our hero at this time; for, amidst his joyful reflections, he
did not know that none were allowed to travel there, unless when known,
without proper passes, of which he was not provided; and there is
moreover a reward of five pounds for any one who apprehends a runaway.

It therefore happened, that one morning early, passing through a narrow
path, he was met by four timbermen, going to work; he would fain have
escaped their observation, but they soon hailed him, and demanded where
he was going, and where his pass was?  These were questions which he
would willingly have been excused from answering; however, as his wit was
always ready, he immediately told them he belonged to the Hector
privateer, (which he knew then lay upon the coast,) and that he was going
on some business for the captain to Charles' county:--but, as he could
produce no pass, this would not satisfy them, so they seized upon him,
and conducted him to one Colonel Brown's, a justice of the peace in Anne
Arundel county.

But here, most gentle reader, that thou mayest not form a wrong idea of
this justice, and, as is too often the case, judge of what thou hast not
seen, from what thou hast seen, it will be necessary to inform thee, that
he was not such a one as Hudibras describes:

    An old dull sot, who told the clock,
    For many years at Bridewell dock.

Neither was he such a one as that excellent artist, Mr. Hogarth, has
depicted in his picture of a Modern Midnight Conversation;--nor such a
one as the author of Joseph Andrews has, above all authors, so inimitably
drawn to the life; nor yet was he such a one as thou hast often seen at a
quarter sessions, with a large wig, a heavy unmeaning countenance, and a
sour aspect, who gravely nods over a cause, and then passes a decision on
what he does not understand; and no wonder, when he, perhaps, never saw,
much less read the laws of his country; but of Justice Brown, I can
assure the reader, he could not only read, but upon occasion write a
mittimus, without the assistance of his clerk; he was thoroughly
acquainted with the general duties of his office, and the particular laws
of Maryland; his countenance was an awful majesty, tempered with a humane
sweetness, ever unwilling to punish, yet always afraid of offending
justice; and if at any time necessity obliged him to use the rod, he did
it with so much humanity and compassion, as plainly indicated the duties
of his office forced, rather than the cruelty or haughtiness of his
temper prompted to it; and while the unhappy criminal suffered a
corporeal punishment, he did all that lay in his power, to the end that
it might have a due effect, by endeavouring to amend the mind with
salutary advice; if the exigencies of the state required taxes to be
levied upon the subjects, he never, by his authority or office, excused
himself from bearing his full proportion; nor even would he meanly submit
to see any of his fellow-justices do so.

It was before such a justice Mr. Carew had the good fortune to be
carried: they found him in his court-yard, just mounting his horse to go
out, and he very civilly inquired their business; the timbermen told him
they had got a runaway: the justice then inquired of Mr. Carew who he
was: he replied he was a sea-faring man, belonging to the Hector
privateer of Boston, captain Anderson, and as they could not agree, he
had left the ship.  The justice told him he was very sorry it should
happen so, but he was obliged by the laws of his country to stop all
passengers who could not produce passes; and, therefore, though
unwillingly, he should be obliged to commit him; he then entertained him
very plentifully with victuals and drink, and in the mean time made his
commitment for New Town gaol.  Mr. Carew, finding his commitment made,
told the timbermen, that, as they got their money easily, he would have a
horse to ride upon, for it was too hot for him to walk in that country.
The justice merrily cried, Well spoken, prisoner.  There was then a great
ado with the timbermen to get a horse for him; but at last one was
procured, and our hero, mounted on a milk-white steed, was conveyed in a
sort of triumph to New Town, the timbermen performing the cavalcade on
foot.

The commitment was directed to the under-sheriff in New Town, a saddler
by profession, who immediately waited on him to the prison; he found it
well peopled, and his ears were confused with almost as many dialects as
put a stop to the building of Babel.  Mr. Carew saluted them, and
courteously inquired what countrymen they were: some were from Kilkenny,
some Limeric, some Dublin, others of Somerset, Dorset, Devon, and
Cornwall; so that he found he had choice enough of companions, and, as he
saw he had no remedy but patience, he endeavoured to amuse himself as
well as he could.

Looking through the bars one day, he espied a whipping-post and gallows,
at which he turned to his companions, and cried out, A fine sight truly
this is, my friends! which was a jest many of them could not relish, as
they had before tasted of the whipping; looking on the other side, he saw
a fine house, and demanding whose it was, they told him it was the
assembly-house.  While he was thus amusing himself, reflecting on the
variety of his fate, fortune was preparing a more agreeable scene for
him.  A person coming up to the window, asked where the runaway was, who
had been brought in that day, Mr. Carew composedly told him he was the
man; they then entered into discourse, inquiring of each other of what
country they were, and soon found they were pretty near neighbours, the
person who addressed him being one out of Dorsetshire.  While they were
talking, our hero seeing the tops of some vessels riding in the river,
inquired what place they belonged to.  The man replied, To the west of
England, to one Mr. Buck of Biddeford, to whom most of the town belonged.
Our hero's heart leaped for joy at this good news, and he hastily asked
if the captains Kenny, Hervey, Hopkins, and George Bird were there; the
man replying in the affirmative, still heightened his satisfaction.  Will
you have the goodness to be an unfortunate prisoner's friend, said he to
the person he was talking with, and present my humble duty to any of
them, but particularly to Captain Hervey, and inform them I am here.  The
man very civilly replied he would do it; and asked what he should tell
them was his name?  Carew, replied our hero.  Away ran the messenger with
great haste, but before he got half way, forgetting the name ran back
again to ask it.  Tell them my name is Carew, the rat-catcher; away went
the man again, repeating all the way, Carew, the rat-catcher, lest he
should forget it a second time; and he now executed his message so well,
that very soon after came the captains to the gaol door.

Inquiring for Carew, the rat-catcher, as they wanted to speak with him;
our hero, who heard them, answered with a tantivy, and a halloo to the
dogs; upon which Captain Hervey swore it was Carew, and fell a laughing
very heartily, then coming to the window, they very cordially shook hands
with him, saying, they should as soon have expected to have seen Sir
Robert Walpole there as him.  They then inquired by what means he came
there; and he informed them circumstantially of every thing as already
mentioned.  The captains asked him if he would drink a glass of rum,
which he accepted of very gladly in his present condition; one of them
quickly sent down to the storehouse for a bottle of rum and a bottle of
October, and then they all went into the gaol, and sat down with him.

Thus did he see himself once more surrounded by his friends, so that he
scarcely regretted his meeting with the timbermen, as they had brought
him into such good company.  He was so elevated with his good fortune,
that he forgot all his misfortunes, and passed the evening as cheerfully
as if he was neither a slave nor a prisoner.  The captains inquired if he
had been sold to a planter before he made his escape; he replied in the
negative, when they informed him, that unless his captain came and
demanded him, he would be publicly sold the next court-day.  When they
took their leaves, they told him they would see him the next morning.

Accordingly they returned very early, and having got admittance into the
prison, hailed him with the pleasing sound of liberty, telling him, they
had agreed among themselves to purchase him, then give him his release,
and furnish him with proper passes; but instead of receiving this joyful
news with the transports they expected, our hero stood for some time
silent and lost in thought.  During this while, he reflected within
himself, whether his honour would permit him to purchase his liberty on
these terms: and it was indeed no little struggle which passed in his
breast on this occasion.  On the one side, Liberty, with all her charms,
presented herself, and wooed to be accepted, supported by Fear, who set
before his eyes all the horrors and cruelties of a severe slavery; on the
other side, dame Honour, with a majestic mein, forbade him, sounding
loudly in his ears how it would read in future story, that the ingenious
Mr. Carew had no contrivance left to regain his lost liberty, but meanly
to purchase it at his friends' expense.  For some time did these passions
remain in equipoise; as thou hast often seen the scales of some honest
tradesman, before he weighs his commodity; but at length honour
preponderated, and liberty and fear flew up and kicked the beam; he
therefore told the captains he had the most grateful sense of this
instance of their love, but that he could never consent to purchase his
freedom at their expense: and therefore desired they would only do him
the favour to acquaint Captain Froade of his being there.  The captains
were quite amazed at this resolution, and used great entreaties to
persuade him to alter it, but all in vain; so that at last they were
obliged to comply with his earnest request, in writing to Captain Froade.

Captain Froade received with great pleasure the news of his being in
custody in New Town, and soon sent round his long-boat, paid all costs
and charges, and brought him once more on board his ship.  The captain
received him with a great deal of malicious satisfaction in his
countenance, telling him in a taunting manner, that, though he had
promised Sir William Courtney to be at home before him, he should find
himself damnably mistaken; and then with a tyrannic tone bade him strip,
calling the boatswain to bring up a cat-o'-nine-tails, and tie him fast
up to the main geers; accordingly our hero was obliged to undergo a cruel
and shameful punishment.  Here, gentle reader, if thou hast not a heart
made of something harder than adamant, thou canst not choose but melt at
the sufferings of our hero; he, who but just before, did what would have
immortalised the name of Caesar or Alexander, is now rewarded for it with
cruel and ignominious stripes, far from his native country, wife,
children, or any friends, and still doomed to undergo severe hardships.
As soon as the captain had satisfied his revenge, he ordered Mr. Carew on
shore, taking him to a blacksmith, whom he desired to make a heavy iron
collar for him, which in Maryland they call a pot-hook, and is usually
put about the necks of runaway slaves.  When it was fastened on, the
captain jeeringly cried, Now run away if you can; I will make you help to
load this vessel, and then I'll take care of you, and send you to the
ironworks of Susky Hadlam.

Captain Froade soon after left the vessel, and went up to a storehouse at
Tuckhoe, and the first mate to Kent island, whilst the second mate and
boatswain kept the ship; in the mean time our hero was employed in
loading the vessel, and doing all manner of drudgery.  Galled with a
heavy yoke and narrowly watched, he began to lose all hopes of escape;
his spirits now began to fail him, and he almost gave himself up to
despair, little thinking his deliverance so near at hand, as he found it
soon to be.

One day, as he was employed in his usual drudgery, reflecting within
himself upon his unhappy condition, he unexpectedly saw his good friends,
Captains Hervey and Hopkins, two of the Biddeford captains, who, as has
been before related, had offered to redeem him from the prison at New
Town; he was overjoyed at the sight of them, not that he expected any
deliverance from them, but only as they were friends he had been so much
obliged to.

The captains came up and inquired very kindly how it fared with him, and
how he bore the drudgery they saw him employed in; adding, that he had
better have accepted the offer they made him at New Town.  Our hero
gallantly replied, that however severe the hardships he underwent, and
were they still more so, he would rather choose to suffer them, than
purchase liberty at their cost.  The captains, charmed with his
magnanimity, were resolved to make one attempt more to get him his
liberty.  They soon after sounded the boatswain and mate; and finding
them not greatly averse to give him an opportunity to escape, they took
him aside, and thus addressed him:--Friend Carew, the offer we made you
at New Town may convince you of the regard we have for you; we therefore
cannot think of leaving the country before we have, by some means or
other, procured your liberty; we have already sounded the boatswain and
mate, and find we can bring them to wink at your escape; but the greatest
obstacle is, that there is forty pounds penalty and half a year's
imprisonment, for any one that takes off your iron collar, so that you
must be obliged to travel with it, till you come among the friendly
Indians, many miles distant from hence, who will assist you to take it
off, for they are great friends with the English, and trade with us for
lattens, kettles, frying-pans, gunpowder and shot; giving us in exchange
buffalo and deer skins, with other sorts of furs.  But there are other
sorts of Indians, one of which are distinguished by a very flat forehead,
who use cross-bows in fighting; the other of a very small stature, who
are great enemies, and very cruel to the whites; these you must endeavour
by all means to avoid, for if you fall into their hands, they will
certainly murder you.

And here the reader will, we make no doubt, be pleased to see some
account of the Indians, among whom our hero was treated with so much
kindness and civility, as we shall relate in its proper place.

At the first settling of Maryland, there were several nations of them
governed by petty kings.  Mr. Calvert, Lord Baltimore's brother having
been sent by him to make the first settlement in Maryland, landed at
Potowmac town; during the infancy of Werowance, Archibau, his uncle, who
governed his territories in his minority, received the English in a
friendly manner.  From Potowmac the governor proceeded to Piscataqua,
about 20 leagues higher, where he found many Indians assembled, and among
them an Englishman, Captain Henry Fleet, who had lived there several
years in great esteem with the natives.  Captain Fleet brought the prince
on board the governor's pinnace to treat with him.  Mr. Calvert asked
him, whether he was agreeable that he and his people should settle in his
country.  The prince replied, I will not bid you go, neither will I bid
you stay, but you may use your own discretion.  The Indians, finding
their prince stay longer on board than they expected, crowded down to the
water-side to look after him, fearing the English had killed him, and
they were not satisfied till he showed himself to them, to please them.
The natives, who fled from St. Clement's isle, when they saw the English
come as friends, returned to their habitations; and the governor, not
thinking it advisable to settle so high up the river in the infancy of
the colony, sent his pinnaces down the river, and went with Captain Fleet
to a river on the north side of the Potowmac, within four or five
leagues, in his long-boat, and came to the town of Yoamaco, from which
the Indians of that neighbourhood are called Yoamacoes.  The governor
landed, and treating with the prince there, acquainted him with the
occasion of his coming, to whom the Indian said little, but invited him
to his house, entertained him kindly, and gave him his own bed to lie on.
The next day he showed him the country, and the governor determining to
make the first settlement there, ordered all his ships and pinnaces to
come thither to him.

To make his entry the more safe and peaceable, he presented the Werowance
and Wilsos, and principal men of the place, with some English cloth,
axes, hoes and knives, which they accepted very kindly, and freely
consented that he and his company should dwell in one part of the town,
and reserving the other for themselves.  Those Indians who inhabited that
part which was assigned to the English, readily abandoned their houses to
them; and Mr. Calvert immediately set hands to work to plant corn.  The
natives agreed further to leave the whole town to the English as soon as
their harvest was in; which they did accordingly, and both English and
Indians promised to live friendly together.  If any injury was done on
either part, the nation offending was to make satisfaction.  Thus, on the
27th March, 1634, the governor took possession of the town, and named it
St. Mary's.

There happened an event which much facilitated this with the Indians.
The Susquehanocks, a warlike people, dwelling between Chesapeak Bay and
Delaware Bay, were wont to make incursions on their neighbours, partly
for dominion and partly for booty, of which the women were most desired
by them.  The Yoamacoes, fearing these Susquehanocks, had a year before
the English arrived, resolved to desert their habitations, and remove
higher into the country; many of them were actually gone, and the rest
prepared to follow them.  The ships and pinnaces arriving at the town,
the Indians were amazed and terrified at the sight of them, especially at
hearing their cannon thunder, when they came to anchor.

The first thing that Mr. Calvert did was to fix a court of guard, and
erect a storehouse; and he had not been there many days before Sir John
Harvey, governor of Virginia, came there to visit him, as did several of
the Indian Werowances, and many other Indians, from several parts of the
continent; among others, came the king of Patuxent, and, being carried
aboard the ship, then at anchor in the river, was placed between the
governor of Virginia and the governor of Maryland, at an entertainment
made for him and others.  A Patuxent Indian coming aboard, and seeing his
king thus seated, started back; thinking he was surprised, he would have
fain leaped overboard, and could not be persuaded to enter the cabin,
till the Werowance came himself, and satisfied him he was in no danger.
This king had formerly been taken prisoner by the English of Virginia.
After the storehouse was finished and the ship unladen, Mr. Calvert
ordered the colours to be brought ashore, which was done with great
solemnity, the gentlemen and their servants attending in arms: several
volleys were fired on board and on shore, as also the cannon, at which
the natives were struck with admiration, such at least as had not heard
the firing of pieces of ordnance before, to whom it could not be
dreadful.

The kings of Patuxent and Yoamaco were present at this ceremony, with
many other Indians of Yoamaco; and the Werowance of Patuxent took that
occasion to advise the Indians of Yoamaco to be careful to keep the
league that had been made with the English.  He staid in town several
days, and was full of his Indian compliments; when he went away he made
this speech to the governor: "I love the English so well, that, should
they go about to kill me, if I had so much breath as to speak, I would
command my people not to revenge my death, for I know they would not do
such a thing, except it were through my own fault."

This infant colony supplied themselves with Indian corn at Barbadoes,
which, at their first arrival, they began to use to save their French
store of flour and oatmeal.  The Indian women, perceiving that their
servants did not know how to dress it, made their bread for them, and
taught them to do it themselves.  There was Indian corn enough in the
country, and these new adventurers soon after shipped off 10,000 bushels
for New England, to purchase salt fish and other provisions.  While the
English and Indians lived at St. Mary's together, the natives went every
day to hunt with the new comers for deer and turkeys, which, when they
had caught, they gave to the English, or sold for knives, beads, and such
like trifles.  They also brought them good store of fish, and behaved
themselves very kindly, suffering their women and children to come among
them, which was a certain sign of their confidence in them.

Most of the Indians still follow the religion and customs of their
ancestors; and are not become either more pious or more polite by the
company of the English.

As to their religion, they have all of them some dark notions about God;
but some of them have brighter ones, if a person may be believed who had
this confession from the mouth of an Indian: "That they believed God was
universally beneficent; that his dwelling was in heaven above, and the
influence of his goodness reached to the earth beneath; that he was
incomprehensible in his excellence, and enjoyed all possible felicity;
that his duration was eternal, his perfection boundless, and that he
possessed everlasting happiness."  So far the savage talked as rationally
of the existence of a God as a Christian divine or philosopher could have
done; but when he came to justify their worshipping of the Devil, whom
they call Okee, his notions were very heterodox.  He said, "It is true
God is the giver of all good things, but they flow naturally and
promiscuously from him; that they are showered down upon all men without
distinction; that God does not trouble himself with the impertinent
affairs of men, nor is concerned at what they do, but leaves them to make
the most of their free will, and to secure as many as they can of the
good things that flow from him; that therefore it was to no purpose
either to fear or worship him; but, on the contrary, if they did not
pacify the evil spirit, he would ruin their health, peace, and plenty, he
being always visiting them in the air, thunders, storms, &c."

As to the idol which they all worship, and is kept in a temple called
Quiocasan, he seemed to have a very different opinion of its divinity,
and cried out against the juggling of the priests.--This man did not talk
like a common savage, and therefore we may suppose he had studied the
matter more than his countrymen, who, for the generality, paid a great
deal of devotion to the idol, and worshipped him as their chief deity.

Their priests and conjurors are highly reverenced by them.  They are
given extremely to pawning or conjuring; and one of them very lately
conjured a shower of rain for a gentleman's plantation, in a time of
drought, for two bottles of rum.  We are not apt to give credit to such
supernatural events; and, had we not found this in an author who was on
the spot, we should have rejected it as a fable.

Their priests promise fine women, eternal spring, and every pleasure in
perfection in the other world, which charmed them in this; and threaten
them with lakes of fire, and torments by a fairy in the shape of an old
woman.  They are often bloody in their sacrifices, and offer up young
children to the devil.  They have a superstitious ceremony among them,
which they call _Huskanawing_, and is performed thus: they shut up ten or
twelve young men, the most deserving among them, about twenty years of
age, in a strong inclosure, made on purpose, like a sugar loaf, and every
way open like a lattice, for the air to pass through; they are kept for
several months, and are allowed to have no sustenance but the infusion or
decoction of poisonous intoxicating roots, which turn their brains, and
they run stark mad.

By this it is pretended they lose the remembrance of all former things,
even of their parents, treasure, and language, as if they had drunk of
the water of oblivion, drawn out of the lake of Lethe.  When they have
been in this condition as long as their custom directs, they lessen this
intoxicating potion; and, by degrees, the young men recover the use of
their senses; but before they are quite well, they are shown in their
towns; and the youths who have been _huskanawed_ are afraid to discover
the least sign of their remembering any thing of their past lives; for,
in such a case, they must be huskanawed again, and they are disciplined
so severely the second time, that it generally kills them.

After the young men have passed this trial, they are Coucarouses, or men
of quality in their nations; and the Indians say they do it to take away
from youth all childish impressions, and that strong partiality to
persons and things which is contracted before reason takes place.

The Indian priests, to command the respect of the people, make themselves
look as ugly and as terrible as they can; the conjurors always share with
them in their deceit, and they gain by it; the Indians consult both of
them before they go on any enterprise.  There are no priestesses or
witches among them.  They erect altars on every remarkable occasion, and
have temples built like their common cabins, in which their idol stands,
and the corpses of their kings and rulers are preserved.

They have no sort of literature among them; and their way of
communicating things from one to another is by hieroglyphics.  They make
their accounts by units, tens, hundreds, &c., as the English do; but they
reckon their years by cohonks, or winters, and divide every year into
five seasons; the budding time, the earing of the corn, the summer, the
harvest, and the winter.

Their months they count by moons.  They divide the day into three parts,
the rise, power, and lowering, of the sun; and keep their accounts by
knots on a string, or notches on a stick, of which Captain Smith relates
a very pleasant story; that, when the princess Pocahonta went for
England, a Coucarouse, or lord of her own nation, attended her; his name
was Uttamaccomack: and king Powhatan, Pocahonta's father, commanded him,
when he arrived in England, to count the people, and give him an account
of their number.  Uttamaccomock, when he came ashore, got a stick,
intending to count them by notches; but he soon found that his arithmetic
would be to no purpose, and threw away his stick.  At his return, the
king asked him how many people there were? and he replied, count the
stars of the sky, the leaves upon the trees, and the sand upon the
seashore, and you will know how many are the people in England.

They esteem the marriage-vow as the most sacred of all engagements, and
abhor divorces; adultery is the most unpardonable of all crimes amongst
them, and seldom occurs without exemplary punishment.

Their maidens are very chaste; and if any one of them happen to have a
child before marriage, her fortune is spoiled.  They are very sprightly
and good humoured, and the women generally handsome.  Their manner of
handling infants is very rough: as soon as the child is born, they plunge
it over head and ears in cold water, and they bind it naked to a board,
making a hole in the proper place for evacuation.  Between the child and
the board they put some cotton, wool, or fur, and let it lie in this
posture till the bones begin to harden, the joints to knit, and the limbs
to grow strong; they then loosen it from the board, and let it crawl
about where it pleases.  From this custom, it is said, the Indians derive
the neatness and exactness of their limbs, which are the most perfect in
the world.  Some of them are of a gigantic stature, live to a great age,
and are stronger than others; but there is not a crooked, bandy-legged,
or ill-shaped, Indian to be seen.  Some nations of them are very tall and
large limbed, but others are short and small; their complexion is a dark
brown and tawny.  They paint themselves with a pecone root, which stains
them a reddish colour.  They are clear when they are young, but greasing
and sunning make their skin turn hard and black.  Their hair, for the
most part, is coal black; so are their eyes; they wear their hair cut
after several whimsical modes, the persons of note always keep a long
lock behind; the women wearing it very long, hanging at their backs, or
twisted up with beads; and all the better sort adorn their heads with a
kind of coronet.  The men have no beards, and, to prevent their having
any, use certain devices, which they will not communicate to the English.

Their clothes are a mantle girt close in the middle, and underneath a
piece of cloth tied round their waist, and reaching down to the middle of
the thigh.  The common sort only tie a piece of cloth or skin round the
middle.  As for their food they boil, broil, or roast, all the meat they
eat; honomy is the standing dish, and consists of Indian corn soaked,
broken in a mortar, and then boiled in water over a gentle fire ten or
twelve hours together.  They draw and pluck their fowls, skin and paunch
their quadrupeds, but dress their fish with the scales on, and without
gutting; they leave the scales, entrails, and bones, till they eat the
fish, when they throw the offal away.  Their food is chiefly beeves,
turtle, several species of snakes, broth made of deer's humbles, peas,
beans, &c.  They have no set meals: they eat when they are hungry, and
drink nothing but water.  Their bread is made of Indian corn, wild oats,
or the seed of the sun-flower; they eat it alone, and not with meat.

They travel always on foot with a gun or bow.  They live upon the game
they kill, and lie under a tree upon a little high grass.  The English
prohibit them to keep corn, sheep, or hogs, lest they should steal their
neighbour's.

When they come to rivers, they presently patch up a canoe of birch bark,
cross over in it, and leave it on the river's bank, if they think they
shall not want it; otherwise they carry it along with them.

Their way of receiving strangers is by the pipe, or calumet of peace.  Of
this Pere Henepin has given a long account in his voyage, and the pipe is
as follows: they fill a pipe of tobacco, larger and bigger than any
common pipe, light it, and then the chief of them takes a whiff, gives it
to the stranger, and if he smoke of it, it is peace; if not, war; if
peace, the pipe is handed all round the company.

The diseases of the Indians are very few, and easy to be cured: they for
the most part arise from excessive heats and colds, which they get rid of
by sweating.  As for aches, and settled pains in the joints or limbs,
they use caustics and scarifying.  The priests are their physicians, and
from their childhood are taught the nature and use of simples, in which
their knowledge is excellent; but they will not communicate it,
pretending it is a gift of God; and by this mystery they make it the more
valuable.

Their riches consist of furs, peak, roenocke, and pearl.  Their peak and
roenocke are made of shells; the peak is an English bugle, but the
roenocke is a piece of cockle, drilled through like a bead.  Before the
English came among them, the peak and the roenocke were all their
treasure; but now they set a value on their fur and pearl, and are greedy
of keeping quantities of them together.  The pearl is good, and formerly
was not so rare as it is at this time.

They had no iron tools till the English brought them over: their knives
were sharpened reeds or shells, their axes sharp stones.  They rubbed
fire, by turning the end of a hard piece of wood upon the side of one
that is soft and dry, which at last would burn.  They felled great trees
by burning them down at the root, having ways of keeping the fire from
ascending.  They hollowed them with a gentle fire, and scraped the trunk
clean, and this made their canoes, of which some were thirty feet long.
They are very good handicraft men, and what they do is generally neat and
convenient.

Their kingdoms descended to the next heir, male or female, and they were
exact in preserving the succession in the right line.  If, as it often
happened, one great prince subjected the other, those conquests commonly
were lost at his death, and the nation returned again to the obedience of
their natural princes.  They have no written laws, neither can they have
any, having no letters.

Their lands are in common, and their Werowances, or judges, are all
lord-chancellors, deciding causes and inflicting punishments according as
they think fit.  These Werowances and the Coucarouses are their terms to
distinguish the men of quality; the former are their war-captains, and
the latter such as have passed the trial of huskanawing.  Their priests
and conjurors have great authority among them.  They have servants whom
they call black boys, and are very exact in requiring the respect that is
due to their several qualities.

Most of the Indians live on the eastern shore, where they have two or
three little towns; some of them go over to the other side, in winter
time, to hunt for deer, being generally employed by the English.  They
take delight in nothing else, and it is very rare that any of them will
embrace the Christian way of living and worship.  There are about 500
fighting Indians in all the province; the cause of their diminution
proceeded not from wars with the English, for they have none with them
worth speaking of, but from the perpetual discords and wars among
themselves.  The female sex have always swept away a great many.

One thing is observed in them, though they are a people very timorous and
cowardly in fight, yet when taken prisoners and condemned, they will die
like heroes, braving the most exquisite tortures that can be invented,
and singing all the time they are upon the rack.

We find several of the Indians doing actions which would do honour to the
greatest heroes of antiquity: thus captain Smith, who was one of the
first adventurers in planting the colony of Virginia, being taken
prisoner, while he was making discoveries, by king Oppecamcanough, he not
only spared Mr. Smith's life, but carried him to his town and feasted
him; and afterwards presented him to Powhaton, the chief king of the
savages, who would have beheaded him, had he not been saved by the
intercession and generosity of his daughter, Pocahonto, who, when Mr.
Smith's head was on the block, and she could not prevail with her father
to give him his life, put her own head upon his, and ventured receiving
the blow to save him, though she was scarce then sixteen years of age.

Some time after, Sir Thomas Dale sent captain Argall to Patowmac to buy
corn, where he met with Pocahonta.  He invited her to come aboard his
ship, which with some difficulty she consented to, being betrayed by the
king of Postcany, brother to the king of Patowmac, with whom she then
resided.

Argall, having got her into his custody, detained her, and carried her to
James's Town, intending to oblige her father, king Powhaton, to come to
what terms he pleased for the deliverance of his daughter.  Though the
king loved her tenderly, yet he would not do any thing for her sake which
he thought was not for his own and the nation's interest; nor would he be
prevailed upon to conclude a firm treaty of peace till he heard his
daughter, who had turned a Christian, was christened Rebecca, and married
to Mr. John Rolfe, an English gentleman, her uncle giving her away in the
church.

Powhaton approved of the marriage, took it for a sincere token of
friendship, and was so pleased with it, that he concluded a league with
the English in the year 1613.

Some time after, Sir Thomas Dale going for England, took Mr. Rolfe and
his wife Pocahonta with him, and arrived at Plymouth.

Captain Smith, hearing the lady who had been so kind to him was arrived
in England, and being engaged at that time in a voyage to New England,
which hindered his waiting on her himself, petitioned queen Anne, consort
to king James, on her behalf, setting forth the civilities he had
received from her, and obligations she had laid upon the English, by the
service she had done them with her father.

The queen received this petition very graciously; and before Captain
Smith embarked for New England, Mr. Rolfe came with his wife from
Plymouth to London.  The smoke of the city offending her, he took
lodgings for her at Brentford, and thither Captain Smith went with
several friends to wait on her.

Pocahonta was told all along that Captain Smith was dead, to excuse his
not coming to Virginia again; from which he had been diverted by settling
a colony in New England.  Wherefore, when this lady saw him, thinking the
English had injured her in telling her a falsity, which she had ill
deserved from them, she was so angry that she would not deign to speak to
him: but at last, with much persuasion and attendance, was reconciled,
and talked freely to him: she then put him in mind of the obligations she
had laid upon him, and reproached him for forgetting her, with an air so
lively, and words so sensible, that one might have seen nature abhors
nothing more than ingratitude--a vice that even the very savages detest.

She was carried to court by the Lady Delaware, and entertained by ladies
of the first quality, towards whom she behaved herself with so much grace
and majesty, that she confirmed the bright character Captain Smith had
given of her.  The whole court was charmed with the decency and grandeur
of her deportment so much, that the poor gentleman, her husband, was
threatened to be called to an account for marrying a princess royal
without the king's consent; though in that king James showed a very
notable piece of kingcraft, for there was no likelihood that Mr. Rolfe,
by marrying Pocahonta, could any way endanger the peace of his dominions;
or that his alliance with the king of Wicomaco could concern the king of
Great-Britain; indeed, we are told, that upon a fair and full
representation of the matter, the king was pleased to be satisfied.

The lady Pocahonta, having been entertained with all manner of respect in
England, was taken ill at Gravesend, where she lay in order to embark for
Virginia; she died there with all the signs of a sincere Christian and
true penitent.

She had one son by Mr. Rolfe, whose posterity are at this day in good
repute in Virginia, and inherit lands by descent from her.

The language of the Indians is lofty, but narrow; the accent and emphasis
of some of their words are great and sweet, as Okorocston, Rancoce,
Oriston, Shakameton, Poquiffin, all names of places, and as sonorous as
any in Attica; then for sweetness they have their _anna_, mother,
_issimus_, brother, _nelapsin_ and _usque oret_, very good, _pone_,
bread, _morridge walk_, a burying-place, _scaw_, a woman, _salop_, a man,
_pappoes_, a child.

The captains acquainted Mr. Carew, that the unfriendly Indians were not
the only enemies he had to fear, for he must expect to encounter with
great dangers and difficulties, as rattle-snakes, horn-snakes,
black-snakes, lions, leopards, bears, wolves, and wild cats.  However
this did not dishearten our hero, for he was resolved to attempt
regaining his liberty, let the consequence be what it would.  The
captains then gave him a pocket-compass to steer by, a steel and
tinder-box, a bag of cakes, a cheese, and some rum, telling him, he must
leave the three-notched road a little way off, and steer to his left
hand; (in Maryland they distinguish the roads by letters or notches cut
on the trees;) that he must travel by night, and lie concealed in the
day, for forty miles, and then he would come to a part of the country
quite uninhabited; from thence he would enter the Indian country.  They
likewise told him, that all the wild beasts were afraid of fire, so that
his best defence would be to strike a light and kindle some sticks
whenever he was apprehensive of being attacked by any of them.

Our hero having received these and some other necessary instructions, and
having returned his generous benefactors many thanks for their kindness,
bidding them farewell with tears, set out on his dangerous journey about
three o'clock in the afternoon.  He had not travelled far, before he
began to reflect on his melancholy condition, alone, unarmed,
unacquainted with the way, galled with the heavy yoke, exposed every
moment to the most imminent dangers, and dark tempestuous night
approaching with all its horrors, increased its terrors; his ears were
now assailed with the dismal yells and crying of wild beasts of different
sorts, but, remembering the instructions he had received from the
captains, he soon struck fire, and kindled some sticks, and was obliged
the whole night to swing a fireband round his head; the sight of which
kept the wild beasts from coming near, for, though they often came and
looked at him, yet they soon turned tail again, seeing the fire.

However it was with great joy he saw day-light appear, at first dawn of
which he was quite freed from those troublesome guests; he had nothing to
do but to seek the thickest tree he could find, and, climbing up into it,
he took some refreshment of sleep, which he had great need of, having
travelled hard all night.  He afterwards eat sparingly of his cheese and
biscuit, fearing they might not last till he could get a fresh supply,
and then took a very large dram of rum, with which, finding his spirits
much refreshed, and night coming on, he began his journey again,
travelling in the same manner as the preceding night, with a firebrand
whirling round his head.  In this manner travelling by night, and
concealing himself by day, he went on four days, when he reached the Blue
Mountains, where he thought himself out of all danger of pursuit, or
being stopped for want of a pass.  He now travelled by day, meeting with
great multitudes of buffaloes, black bears, deer, wolves, and wild
turkeys, the latter being so large as to weigh thirty or forty pounds;
none of these creatures offered to attack him; but walking one day on the
side of a small rivulet, almost lost in thought, he was suddenly alarmed
by something he heard plunging into the water, and turning his head to
the side from whence the noise came, he was struck with the sight of a
great white bear, which, being likewise disturbed, raised itself
immediately and made towards him.  Our hero now thought there was no way
to escape; however, with great presence of mind, he stepped aside to a
furze bush, and, striking a light with all the haste he could, set it on
fire; at the sight of which the bear, who was now within a very small
distance of him, turned about, and went away roaring hideously.

Some time after this he was comically alarmed by an inoffensive animal;
as he was walking along a deer-track, he chanced to spy a very fine
tortoise-shell box, as he imagined, though he could not conceive how it
could be dropped there; and, thinking he might make good advantage of it
among the Indians, claps it into his pocket; he had not gone far before
he heard a hissing noise, which seemed to be very near; he immediately
thought it to be some venomous snake, and endeavoured to avoid it by
going out of the path he was in; but still the noise seemed to pursue
him; at last looking down, he sees a little ugly black head peeping out
of his pocket, which he found came out of what he had picked up for a
box: he with much ado slips his fingers into his pocket, takes out his
supposed box, and flings it to the ground, when the creature, opening the
upper from the under shell, marched away; this was, as he afterwards
found, no other than a land-tortoise.

He found his journey very often obstructed by rivers and rivulets, which
he was obliged either to wade through or swim over.  At length, after
many days' tiresome travel, being grievously galled by his yoke, or
collar, he discovered several tracks of the Indians.  Never did more
different passions agitate the breast of any man than did the breast of
our hero at this time; on the one side he was overjoyed at the sight of
the track of any human creature, thinking he should now get rid of his
heavy collar, as well as get some refreshment of provisions, his own
having been exhausted for almost two days past; but he had not pleased
himself long with this reflection before the idea of the barbarous and
unfriendly Indians struck into his mind, for he was quite uncertain
whether the footsteps he discovered might lead him to the good and
friendly Indians, or to those barbarous and inhuman wretches; he now
represented himself as set upon by these, against whom he had no arms to
defend himself, cruelly tormented, and at last slain as a victim in some
of their bloody sacrifices.

It was about the evening when he discovered these footsteps, and he
passed the whole night in this tormenting suspense.  Very early in the
morning he discovered five Indians at a distance; his fears represented
them in the most frightful colours; they seemed of a gigantic stature,
that he thought he could perceive their faces to be very flat and broad,
which was the characteristic or mark of the unfriendly Indians.  This
struck him with unusual dread, and he now gave himself over for lost,
when he saw they had espied him, and were making towards him: they coming
nearer, he perceived them to be clothed in deer skins, their hair to be
exceeding long, hanging down a great way over their shoulders; and, to
his inexpressible joy, he distinguished they had guns in their hands,
which was a sure sign they were the friendly Indians.  This raised his
spirits, and he approached them in a suppliant manner, making signs that
he craved their assistance.  The Indians accosted him with clapping their
hands on their heads, and crying _hush me a top_, which in their language
signifies good-morrow; then taking hold of his collar, they repeated one
to another, in broken English, a runaway! a runaway!  Presently after
came up two more Indians, one of whom was a person of fine majestic
appearance, whose dress was by far more magnificent than any of the
others.  His habit being a most beautiful panther's skin faced with fur:
his hair was adorned with a great variety of fine feathers, and his face
painted with a great many colours.  By these marks of distinction, Mr.
Carew supposed him to be their king or prince, and indeed such he was; he
spoke very good English, and accosted him as the others had done before.
He then brought him to the wigwam, which is a name they give their
houses, which are no more than stakes driven into the ground, covered
over with deer or other skins.  Here, observing that our hero was
grievously hurt by his collar, this good king immediately set himself
about freeing him from it; but, as he had no proper tool for that
purpose, he was at a great loss how to execute it; but at last, taking
the steel of Mr. Carew's tinder-box, he jagged it into a kind of saw,
with which he cut off his collar, but not without much labour, his
majesty sweating heartily at the work.  He then carried him into his own
wigwam, which appeared very handsomely furnished.  Here he ordered some
Indian bread, and other refreshments, to be set before Mr. Carew, who ate
very heartily.  During this the prince acquainted him his name was George
Lillycraft; that his father was one of those kings who were in England in
the reign of Queen Anne; and then showed him some fine laced clothes,
which were made a present of to him by the late king George of England
(meaning his late majesty king George the First); he expressed a great
affection for his brother kings of England, as he called them, and for
the English nation in general.  Soon after came in the queen, dressed in
a short jacket, leading in her hand a young prince, who both repeated the
word runaway twice.

Next day the king presented him to the wisos, or chief men of the town,
who received him with a great deal of civility, and tokens of high
esteem.  He ate every day at the king's table, and had a lodging assigned
to him in his wigwam, and grew every day more and more in esteem among
them, being consulted in all matters of difficulty.  Thus sudden are the
scenes of life shifted and changed; for a brave man will never despair
under whatsoever misfortunes; for our hero, who but a few weeks before
was treated like a beast of burden, heavily loaded, cruelly whipped,
coarsely fed, and all by the insolence and inhumanity of his own
countrymen, is now seated, in a strange country, with kings and princes,
and consulted by a whole nation.

King Lillycraft, who was a man of very good natural sense, used to
discourse with, and ask Mr. Carew many questions of the customs and
manners of his brother kings in England.  Being told one day that the
king of England never stirred abroad without being surrounded with a
great number of armed men, whom he paid for defending him, and fighting
for him, he very simply asked whom he was afraid of? or whether he was
constantly at war with any neighbouring king, who might fall upon him
unawares?  Being told to the contrary, he expressed very great surprise,
and could not conceive of what use these armed men were, when the king
had no enemy, adding, when I am at war, my people are my guard, and fight
for me without being paid for it, and would each of them lay down his
life to defend mine; and when I am at peace, I can fear no evil from my
own people, therefore I have no need of armed men about me.  Being told
another time that the king of England kept himself generally in his
wigwam, or palace, surrounded by certain officers, who permitted no one
to come near him but by their permission, which was the greatest
difficulty in the world to obtain, and that not a thousandth part of the
people, who lived in the town where the palace was, had ever seen him in
their lives, he turned away from Mr. Carew in a passion, telling him, He
was certain he deceived him, and belied his good brother of England: for
how, added he, can he be the king of a people whom he hath no knowledge
of? or how can he be beloved by his subjects who have never seen him? how
can he redress their grievances, or provide for their wants? how can he
lead his people against their enemies? or how know what his subjects
stand in need of, in the distant parts of the kingdom, if he so seldom
stirs out of his wigwam?  Being told that the king of England was
informed of, and transacted all this by means of the officers that were
about him, he replied, It might be so; but if he should ever chance to go
to England, he should talk with his good friend the king upon these
matters, as he could not clearly apprehend how they could be.  For my
part, added he, I know and am known by all my subjects.  I appear daily
among them, hear their complaints, redress their grievances, and am
acquainted with every place in my kingdom.  Being told the people of
England paid their king, yearly, vasts sums out of the profits of their
labour, he laughed, and cried, O poor king! adding, I have often given to
my subjects, but never received any thing from them.

Hunting being the principal employment and diversion of the Indians, at
which they are very expert, Mr. Carew had an opportunity of gratifying,
to the utmost, his taste for this diversion, there scarcely passing a day
but he was a party amongst them at some hunting match or other, and most
generally with the king himself.  He was now grown into such great
respect among them, that they offered him a wife out of the principal
families of the place, nearly related to the king; but our hero,
notwithstanding these honours, could not forget his native country, the
love of which glowed within his breast; he had therefore, for some time,
formed the design of leaving them, and, very soon after, found an
opportunity of doing so.

One day, being out a hunting, they chanced to fall in company with some
other Indians, near the river Delaware.  When the chase was over, they
sat down to be merry together, and having got some rum amongst them, they
drank pretty freely, and fell to singing and dancing after their country
fashion.

Mr. Carew took this opportunity of slipping away, and, going down to the
river side, seized one of the canoes.  Though he was entirely
unacquainted with the method of managing them, he boldly pushed from
shore, landing near Newcastle in Pennsylvania; the place he crossed over
being called Duck's Creek, which communicates with the great Delaware.
Mr. Carew being now got, as it were, among his countrymen again, soon
transformed himself into a quaker: pulling off the button from his hat,
and flapping it on every side, he put on as demure and precise a look, as
if his whole family had been quakers, and he had never seen any other
sort of people.  Here, reader, it will be necessary to remark, that, as
our hero is no longer amongst simple honest Indians, neither polite,
lettered, nor deceitful, but among polished people, whose knowledge has
taught them to forget the ways of nature, and to act every thing in
disguise; whose hearts and tongues are as far distant asunder, as the
North from the South pole, and who daily over-reach one another in the
most common occurrences of life; we hope it will be no disgrace to our
hero if among such he appears polished as the best, and puts on a fresh
disguise as often as it suits his convenience.

The first house he went to was a barber's, of whose assistance he had
indeed need enough, not having shaved his beard since he left the ship:
here he told a moving story, saying his name was John Elworth, of
Bristol; that he had been artfully kidnapped by one Samuel Ball, of the
same place, and gone through great hardships in making his escape.  The
good barber moved by his tale, willingly lent his assistance to take off
his beard; during the operation, he entered into a good deal of chat,
telling him his father was of Exeter; and, when he went away, gave him a
half-crown bill, and he recommended him to Mr. Wiggil, a quaker of the
same place.  Here he told his moving story again, and got a ten-shilling
bill from Mr. Wiggil, with recommendations to the rest of the quakers of
the place, among whom he got a great deal of money.  When he took his
leave, he was recommended by them to the quakers of a town called
Castile.  Here he found a great deal of favour, and made the best of his
way to Brandywine-Ferry, in which is room enough to lay up the whole
royal navy of England; and from thence to Chester, so called, because the
people who first settled there came for the most part from Cheshire.  It
contains above a hundred houses, and a very good road for shipping, the
Delaware, on which it stands, being about three miles over.  Here are a
court-house and a prison.  This place is also called Upland, and has a
church dedicated to St. Paul, with a numerous congregation of those whom,
exclusive of all other Christians, we call orthodox.  Mr. Carew came here
on Sunday, staid all the night, and the next morning he enquired out one
Mrs. Turner, a quaker, who formerly lived at Embercomb, by Minehead, in
Somersetshire; from her he got a bill, and a recommendation to some
quakers at Derby, about five miles further, where she told him he would
find Mr. Whitfield.  On hearing this, he set out for Derby; but, before
he reached there, was overtaken by hundreds of people going to hear Mr.
Whitfield preach.  Friend, says he to one of them, where are you going so
fast?  Hast thou not heard, friend, says the other, the second Christ is
come?  He then joined them, and they all proceeded to Derby, where he
found Mr. Whitfield preaching in an orchard, but could not get near
enough to hear his discourse, by reason of the great concourse of people;
however, he seemed to be affected with it, and strictly imitated the
quakers in all their sighs, groans, lifting up of the eyes, &c.  Leaving
them, he went to the sign of the ship, and enquiring where Mr. Whitfield
lodged that night, was told at the justice's, who was a miller; he then
asked if he could have a bed there that night, and being told that he
might, he passed the evening very cheerfully.

In the morning he asked for pen, ink, and paper, soon drew up a moving
petition in the name of John Moore, the son of a clergyman, who had been
taken on board the Tiger, Captain Matthews, and carried into the
Havannah, from whence he had got his redemption by means of the governor
of Annapolis; that he was in the most deplorable circumstances, having
nothing to help himself with, and hoped he would commiserate his
condition.  Having finished his petition, away he went to the miller's
house, where Mr. Whitfield lodged, and found a hundred people waiting at
the door to speak to that gentleman.  Looking narrowly around, he espied
a young lad, whom he found belonged to Mr. Whitfield, and going up to him
very civilly, he begged he would do an unfortunate man the kindness to
present that paper (giving him his petition) to Mr. Whitfield: and as
soon as they perceived him, the quakers pressed round him, one crying,
Pray thee, friend, come and pray by my dear wife; and another, Pray thee,
friend, come and see my dear brother.  Mr. Whitfield made his way through
them all, as well as he could, towards Mr. Carew, whom the young lad
pointed out to him.  When he came up to him, he kindly said that he was
heartily sorry for his misfortunes, but that we were all liable to them,
that they happened by the will of God, and therefore it was our duty to
submit to them with patience and resignation; then, pulling out his
pocket-book, he gave him three or four pounds of that county paper-money.
Mr. Carew returned him thanks with all the marks of the most lively
gratitude, and Mr. Whitfield wishing him well to England, went away
singing psalms with those that were about him; and we make no doubt but
Mr. Carew joined with them in the melody of the heart for the good
success he had had with Mr. Whitfield.

From hence Bampfylde was only seven miles to the city of Philadelphia,
which is one of the finest in all America, and one of the best laid out
cities in the world.  It is the capital of Pennsylvania, and, were it
full of houses and inhabitants, according to the proprietor's plan, it
would be a capital fit for a great empire; yet it is a large city,
considering its late foundation, most commodiously situated between two
navigable rivers, the Delaware and Schuylkill.  He designed the town in
form of an oblong square, extending two miles in length from one river to
the other.  The long streets, eight in number, and two miles in length,
he cut in right angles by others of one mile in length, and sixteen in
number, all straight and spacious.  He left proper spaces for markets,
parades, quays, meeting-houses, schools, hospitals, and other public
buildings.  There are a great number of houses, and it increases every
day in buildings, which are all carried on regularly, according to the
first plan.  The city has two fronts on the water, one on the east side
facing to Schuylkill, and the other on the west, facing the Delaware,
which is near two miles broad, and navigable three hundred miles, at
least for small vessels.  The eastern part is the most populous, on
account of the Schuylkill, which is navigable eight hundred miles above
the falls.  We have observed, that each front of the street was to be two
miles from river to river, as it was at first laid out; but one cannot
suppose that it is finished in that manner.  The streets that run against
the Schuylkill are three quarters of a mile in length; the houses are
stately, the wharfs and warehouses numerous and convenient.  This city
flourished so much at first, that there were near a hundred houses, great
and small in it, in less than a year's time; and it has made answerable
progress since that period; the number of houses, at this time, being
about two thousand, and, generally speaking, better edifices than in the
cities of England, a few excepted, and those only in a few streets.  All
the houses have large orchards and gardens belonging to them; the land on
which the city stands is high and firm, and the convenience of covered
docks and springs have very much contributed to the commerce of this
place, where many rich merchants now reside, some of whom are so wealthy
that they keep their coaches.  Ships may ride in six or seven fathoms
water, with a very good anchorage; the land about it is a dry wholesome
level.  All owners of one thousand acres and upwards have their houses in
the two fronts, facing the rivers, and in the High-street, running from
the middle of one front to the middle of the other.  Every owner of one
thousand acres has about an acre in front, and the smaller purchasers
about half an acre in the back streets, by which means the least has room
enough for a house-garden and small orchard.  High-street is a hundred
feet broad, so is Broad-street, which is in the middle of the city,
running from north to south.  In the centre is a square of ten acres, for
the state-house, market-house, and school-house, as before hinted.  The
names of the streets here denote the several sorts of timber that are
common in Pennsylvania, as Mulberry-street, Sassafras-street,
Chesnut-street, Walnut-street, Beech-street, Ash-street, Vine-street,
Cedar-street.  There are also King-street, Broad-street, High-street.
Their court-house is built of brick, and under it is a prison: several
houses on the quay are worth four or five thousand pounds; and thirteen
ships have been on the stocks at a time: some hundreds have been built
there.  The cellars and warehouses, on the quay, are made over the river
three stories high.  Here are two fairs in a year, and two markets in a
week.  It sends two members to the assembly.

The inhabitants were at first mostly quakers, and so they continue.  It
was some time before there was a church built after the manner of
England; but as soon as one was built, it was called Christchurch.  It
had, in a few years, a very numerous congregation, and King William
ordered an allowance of fifty-three pounds a-year to the minister; which,
with voluntary contributions, made a very handsome provision for him.
There are about twelve hundred of the inhabitants that are of this
congregation, who have for some years had the benefit of the organ; and
though it looked and sounded strange to the quakers at first, yet they
are now so far reconciled to it, as to bear with their neighbours having
it without grumbling.  There are, besides this, several meeting-houses;
viz., for the quakers, who are properly the church as by law established,
being the originals; the presbyterians, the baptists, and a Spanish
church.

According to the plan, there is in each quarter of the city a square of
eight acres, intended for the same uses as were Moorfields in
London--walks and exercises for the citizens.  The great dock is formed
by an inlet of the river Delaware, at the south corner of the front of
the wharfs, and has a bridge over it at the entrance: several creeks run
into the city out of the two rivers; and there is no city in Holland that
is so naturally accommodated with fine and commodious canals, as this
might very easily be.  The quay is beautiful, about two hundred feet
square, to which a ship of five hundred tons may lay her broadside; and,
as these surprising advantages have already rendered it one of the best
trading towns in the British empire out of Europe, so in all probability
it will continue to increase in commerce, riches, and buildings, till for
number and magnificence it will have no equal in America; where the
French have not, nor are likely to have, any thing like it.  Here are
almost all sorts of trades and mechanics, as well as merchants and
planters.  Here the assemblies and courts of judicature are held, and the
business of the province is chiefly managed, as in all capitals.  Here
are printing-houses, and several newspapers published.  In a word, here
are all things necessary for an Englishman's profit and pleasure.

Mr. Carew, walking through the High-street, had a mind to refresh himself
with a nip of punch; the first public house he chanced to come to was
kept by an Irishman, and asking him if he sold punch, Yes, my dear honey,
replied the man.  Arrah, says Mr. Carew, are you my countryman, dear joy?
quite in the Irish brogue.  Yes, replied the man: What, do you belong to
one of our vessels?--No, but I belong to Captain Dubois, of Dublin, who
was taken off the Capes, and carried into the Havannah.--Arrah, dear joy,
I know Captain Dubois very well, replied the Irishman, come in.
Accordingly in went Mr. Carew: the Irishman was so well pleased with his
countryman, (for, giving a very particular account of many places in
Ireland, and counterfeiting the brogue extremely well, he did not suspect
him to be any other,) that he entertained him kindly, and they passed the
day merrily together.

The next morning his host takes him out to see the city: Mr. Carew did
not content himself with idly gazing, as most of our modern travellers
do; but diligently inquired the names of the principal merchants and
places, and informed himself of all those circumstances, which could be
of any service to him.  At length, seeing a very fine house, he inquired
whose it was; and being told Proprietor Penn's, who was just come from
England with his brother-in-law, Captain Frame, he takes leave of his
host, telling him he had a little business to transact, and would be at
home presently, for he should be able to find his way back without his
staying for him.--Having thus got rid of the Irishman, he claps his right
hand into his coat, as if he had lost the use of it; and then, going up
to the proprietor's, knocks at the door, which was opened to him by a
negro, with a silver collar round his neck: he inquired if the proprietor
lived there, and if he was at home: being told he was, Pray tell him,
says he, that a poor man desires the favour of speaking with him.  The
negro then bid him come into the court: soon after, out came the
proprietor, very plainly dressed, and his brother, Captain Frame, in his
regimentals.  The proprietor came up to him, inquiring who he was, and
what he wanted with him: he replied he was a poor unfortunate man, who
craved his honour's charitable assistance: that his name was John
Dawkins, of the city of Exeter; and that he belonged to Captain Davis's
ship of that place, who was taken near the Capes.  Captain Frame, seeing
him a lusty tall fellow, presently cries out, revenge! revenge! my brave
boy! you shall go along with me, and fight the dogs!  Mr. Carew replied
with a sigh, that he should be glad to do that, but that, it was his
misfortune, by the severities and hardships in prison, to have lost the
use of his right arm by the dead palsy.  This moved their compassion so
much, that each of them gave him a guinea; the proprietor telling him he
would take care to send him home with Captain Read, who would sail, very
soon; then asking him if he had been at the governor's, and he replying
in the negative, the proprietor told him he should go there, for he was a
very good-natured man, and would assist him; then calling to the black,
he bid him show the poor man to the governor's.  As they were going
along, he informed himself of the black what countryman the governor was;
and being told a Welshman, and his name Thomas, he took care to make his
advantage of it.  When he came to the governor's and inquired for him, he
was told he was walking in the garden; while he was waiting for his
coming out, in came the proprietor and his brother; and, going into the
garden, they represented his case to the governor, who, coming in,
inquired where he was born, &c.; he told him, as he had before done the
proprietor, and added, that he had married Betty Larkey, parson Griffy's
maid, of Wales, and that the parson had a son at Bishop's Nympton, in
Devon: the governor replied he knew the parson very well, and likewise
Betty Larkey; and after he had asked him some questions about them, which
Mr. Carew answered very readily, he gave him two guineas.

In this manner did he apply to the most of the principal merchants of
Philadelphia, always suiting some circumstances of his story in
particular to the person he applied to; which he did, by diligently
inquiring what places they came from in England, who were their friends
and acquaintance, and the like, which he knew how to suit most to his
purpose.

Captain Read being now ready to sail, and Mr. Carew having a curiosity of
seeing more of the country, he thought proper to leave Philadelphia
without taking leave of any of his good friends there.  From this place
he went into Buckingham county, where he inquired for one George Boon, a
justice of the peace in that county, who formerly lived at Bradnich, in
Devon, his father being a weaver there.  Here he went by his own name,
telling him, he had been taken prisoner, and carried into the Havannah,
where he had lain many months.  The justice having known his father very
well, entertained him generously, showed him the country, and gave him
three guineas at his departure, to help to pay his passage.

From thence he went to Burlington, the first town in West New-Jersey,
which contains about two hundred and fifty families, and has an
answerable number of acres laid out for plantations.  The houses are well
built, and almost all of brick.  The market affords plenty of all sorts
of provisions, which are as good here as any where in America.

From thence to Perth Amboy, so called in honour of the Duke of Perth.  It
is at the mouth of the Rantan, which runs into Sandyhook bay, and is able
to contain five hundred ships.  The plan of this city was laid out very
regularly and spaciously.  The plot of ground was divided into one
hundred and fifty shares, for purchasers to build upon.  Four acres are
preserved for a market-place, and three for public wharfage--very useful
things, if there had been inhabitants, trade, and shipping.  The town
being thus skilfully and commodiously laid out, some Scots began
building, especially a house for the governor, which was then as little
wanted as a wharf or a market.  The whole plan of the city consists of
one thousand and seventy-nine acres, and there are two good roads from it
to Piscataqua and Woodbridge.  Ships in one tide can come up to the port,
and be at the merchants' doors, though of three hundred tons burden; but
the Perth city has not above two or three hundred men, women, and
children.

From thence over a ferry, into a town called Trent-town, in
Staten-island; and from thence over Brunswick ferry to East Jersey, where
he found out a Mr. Matthews, a miller, who formerly lived at Whitechurch,
near Lime, in Dorset; and, making use of his old story of having been
taken, he was received by Mr. Matthews with great hospitality; he kept
him three days in his house, and would have entertained him still longer.
At his departure he gave him a guinea, with several letters of
recommendation, and remitted letters by him to his friends in England,
sending his servant with him as far as Elizabeth town, which is three
miles within a creek opposite to the west end of Staten-island.  Here the
first English settlement was made, and if any place in the Jerseys may be
said to have thriven, it is this; for, notwithstanding the endeavours of
the proprietors to make a capital of Perth, by calling it a city,
Elizabeth town has near six times the number of inhabitants, containing
above two hundred and fifty families, and forty thousand acres of land
laid out.  Here the proprietors have a plantation, which goes by the name
of their farm.  The government of the province is here managed, courts
are kept, assemblies held, and the greatest part of the trade of the
colony carried on.  Here he met with one Mr. Nicholas, a Cornish man, who
gave him a ten-shilling bill, and recommended him to one Mr. Anderson, in
Long-island, sometimes called Nassau-island, stretching from Fairfield
county, in a fine spot of ground, one hundred and fifty miles in length,
and twenty in breadth.  Here he changed his religion, and turned
Presbyterian, most of the inhabitants being of that denomination: he
travelled quite through the island, and then crossed over a ferry into
Block-island, from whence there are great quantities of timber
transported to the town of Boston.

Soon after, crossing another ferry, he came into New York, which is a
very fine city.  There are now about one thousand one hundred houses, and
near seven thousand inhabitants in it.  The houses are well built, the
meanest of them is said to be worth one hundred pounds, which cannot be
said of any city in England.  The great church here was built in the year
1695, and is a very handsome edifice.  Here are also a Dutch church, a
French church, and a Lutheran church.  The inhabitants of the Dutch
extraction make a very considerable part of the town; but, most of them
speaking English, one may suppose they went pretty much to the great
church, especially all those that are and hope to be in offices.  Here he
was surprised at the sight of a great number of gibbets, with blacks
hanging upon them; but, upon inquiring, he found the negroes had not long
before entered into a conspiracy for burning the whole city; however, the
plot being timely discovered, great numbers were executed and hung up to
terrify others.  His first care here was to inquire the names,
circumstances, families, and countries, of the principal inhabitants of
the city; amongst the rest he inquired out Captain Lush, who was formerly
of Carmouth, by Lime, in Dorsetshire, to whom he had recommendatory
letters from Mr. Matthews, of East Jersey.  He was received very
hospitably by Captain Lush, who likewise gave him two shirts, and
informed him, there was no ship ready to sail for England there, but that
he would find one at New London.  Having found there was one Mr. Lucas,
formerly of Taunton, in Somersetshire, in New York, and judging he was
brother to Mr. Lucas, of Brampton, in Devon, whom he knew very well, he
went boldly to his house, which was in the fish-shambles, and knocking at
the door, it was opened to him by a negro; he enquired if Mr. Lucas was
at home; and, before the negro could give him an answer, out came Mr.
Lucas with a little boy, and demanded what he wanted: he replied he was
an Englishman, born in Devonshire, who had the misfortune to be cast away
in a ship behind Long-island, and hearing his name was Lucas, he had made
bold to apply to him for his assistance, as he was very well acquainted
with his brother, Mr. Lucas, of Brampton.  Mr. Lucas asked him, if he
could tell him whom his brother married; he replied, Mrs. Mary Tristam.
Do you know Huntsham?  Yes, replied he, and Mr. Beer, who first courted
Mrs. Tristam.  And how many children has my brother?  To this likewise
Mr. Carew answered very exactly; and Mr. Lucas, being convinced by this
of his being no imposter, bid him come in, telling him, he expected his
youngest brother there in three weeks time.  He was entertained here very
generously, and at his departure Mr. Lucas gave him two guineas.

From thence he went through Seabrake and Seaford to New London, which is
situated on a river called the Thames.  The first branch of which river
goes by the name of Glass river, the next branch by that of Russel's
Delight, and the third by that of Indian river.  There is a small river
which falls into the sea at Manchester.  The trade of ship building
flourishes here.  He now inquired if there were none of the name of Davy
in that city; and being asked why, he replied, they were near heirs to a
fine estate near Crediton in Devon, formerly belonging to Sir John Davy.
He was then shown to two ancient sisters of Sir John Davy, whose sons
were timbermen: they asked a great many questions about the family, and
he told them that Sir John Davy was dead, and his eldest son also, who
had left two sons; that the youngest brother, Humphrey Davy, was then
living at Creedy-house, and the little boys somewhere about Exeter.  Then
they gave him two letters to give to Mr. Humphrey Davy; after which, each
gave him a guinea, with recommendations to one Justice Miller and Captain
Rogers, who was bound for England.  Justice Miller received him very
kindly, with whom he agreed to take a run to England for ten gallons of
rum, ten pounds of sugar, ten pounds of tobacco, and ten pipes.

Captain Rogers having taken in his lading, which consisted of rice,
tobacco, and pipe staves, set sail with a fair wind from New London, and
run to Lundy in a month and three days.  Nothing happened material on
their voyage, and the sailors passed this time very joyfully, having so
favourable a gale; but our hero, who knew that fortune, like a common
jilt, often puts on the fairest smiles when she is about to discard you,
thought it prudent to provide against her slippery tricks as much as lay
in his power; he therefore pricked his arms and breast with a needle, and
then rubbed it with bay salt and gunpowder, which made it appear like the
small-pox coming out; in the night-time he groaned very dismally, till at
length the captain called to him to know the reason of his groaning so in
his sleep.  Alas!  Sir, replied he, I have been dreaming my poor wife was
dead, and that she died of the small-pox.  Be of good cheer, man, says
the captain, dreams are but fables; and, for your comfort, I believe we
shall quickly make land: however, they did not do this as soon as the
captain expected; for, towards the next evening, the wind springing up a
fresh gale, the captain ordered to stand out to sea again: during all the
day, Mr. Carew did not stir out of his hammock, pretending to be very
ill.  Towards the morning, the wind was somewhat laid, and they stood in
before it; but it being very hazy weather, the captain ordered a good
look-out, crying, my brave boys, take care we don't run foul of some
ship, for we are now in the channel.  The men replied, all is well.

Now the cocks began to crow on board, and Sol took his last embrace of
Thetis, to begin his daily stage; for, indeed, already had his equipage
waited near an hour for him.  Reader, if thou art acquainted with the
inimitable history of Tom Jones, thou mayest perhaps know what is meant
by this; but, lest thou shouldest not, we think it not improper to inform
thee, that we mean no more than what we might have told thee in three
words, that it was broad day-light.  The captain called out, how goes the
glass, my brave boys?  Eight glasses are just run, replied the men; then
look out sharp for land.  Soon after, the cabin boy hallooing out, land,
land! the captain ran nimbly to see if it was so, saying, I am afraid we
are embayed.  No, replied the mate, I will be bound for it, it is
Lundy-island.  The captain ran up immediately to the main-topmast head,
to look out for other lands to the right and left, and found it to be
indeed Lundy-island; upon which several sailors ran up the rigging, and,
among the rest, Mr. Carew creeps out with nothing but a blanket upon his
shoulders, and makes an attempt to run up the rigging; which the captain
seeing, he hastily cries out, where is old John going? take care of the
old man, he is light-headed: upon which, some of the sailors took him
down, and carried him back to his hammock.  They then crowded all the
sail they could for Lundy.  When they came near, they perceived several
ships laying at anchor there, and made a signal for a pilot.  Soon after
comes up a pilot of Clovelly, who was then upon the island, waiting to
pilot ships up to Bristol.  The captain welcomed him on board, and agreed
for seven guineas to be pilotted up to Bristol: then the captain asked
him what news, and if any New-England men were gone up the channel?  He
replied, that none had passed, but that he could inform him of bad news
for his men, which was, the Ruby man-of-war, Captain Goodyre, lay then in
King-road, and pressed all the men he could lay hold of.  Mr. Carew,
hearing this, immediately comes upon deck, with his blanket upon his
shoulders, and pretended to vomit over the ship's side.  The pilot,
observing him, asked what was the matter with the old man.  I believe,
replies the captain, he has got the small-pox; he dreamed the other night
that his wife was dead of them, which frightened him so much, that I
think the small-pox is come out upon him.  The pilot then stepped up and
asked him to let him look upon him, which he complying with, and showing
him his arms, the pilot swore he had got the small-pox heavily upon him,
and Mr. Carew kept on groaning very mournfully.  They then sailed by
Appledore, Biddeford, and Barnstaple, (where Mr. Carew, notwithstanding
his having the small-pox so heavily, wished himself on shore, drinking
some of their fat ale,) so to the Holmes, and into King-road early in the
morning.  He then thought it advisable to take a pretty large quantity of
warm water into his belly, and soon after, to their concern, they saw the
Ruby man-of-war lying in the road, with jack, ensign, and pendant
hoisted.

Now were all the sailors, who had been so jovial before, struck with a
dreadful panic; but our hero, secure of the favour and protection of the
goddess prudence, was quite easy at heart.--Soon they perceived the man
of war's boat making towards them, upon which Mr. Carew grew sicker and
sicker: the captain ordered the ropes to be flung out for a man-of-war's
boat, and the stanchions and red ropes to be got ready for the
lieutenant, as though they had been to receive some good visitor on
board; such are the polished arts of the world; for we think we may
venture to say, that both the captain and the crew, at the time they were
making these preparations to receive the lieutenant, had rather have seen
him gone to the bottom of the sea, than come on board their vessel.  At
length the man-of-war's boat came along side of the ship, when Mr. Carew
went down into the steerage with his belly full of hot water, and the
lieutenant came on board.  Sir, you are welcome on board, says the
captain; or, rather, that little part of the captain called the tongue;
for the heart, mind, and every other particle, of the captain wished him
at the d---l at the same time.  The lieutenant inquired from whence they
came and what passage.  The captain replied, from Boston, in a month and
four days; and then asked him to walk aft, and take a drop of rum; but,
before he did so, the lieutenant asked how many hands there were on
board.  The captain answered, he had only fifteen, for men were very
scarce.  Of what burden is your ship?--Two hundred and fifty tons.  I
must have your hands, sir, said the lieutenant: come in, barge crew, and
do your duty.  No sooner were the words spoken, than the crew leaped upon
the deck, and the lieutenant ordered all the ship's company aft, saying
he wanted to talk with them.  He then accosted them with an oratorial
harangue: "Gentlemen sailors," said he, "I make no doubt but you are
willing to enter voluntarily, and not as pressed men; if you go like
brave men, freely, when you come round to Plymouth and Portsmouth, and
get on board your respective ships, you will have your bounty money, and
liberty to go on shore and kiss your landladies."  Though this oration
was pronounced with as much self-applause as Cicero felt when, by the
force of his eloquence, he made Caesar the master of the world to
tremble; or as the vehement Demosthenes, when used to thunder against
king Philip; yet we are not quite certain whether it was the power of
eloquence alone persuaded the men to enter voluntarily, or whether being
seated between the two rocks of Scylla and Charybdis, it was indifferent
to them which they dashed upon; however this was, all but one of them
entered (though with sad hearts) without being pressed, which we make no
doubt the lieutenant attributed to the eloquence of his oration.

The lieutenant observing a stout fellow, in a frock and trowsers, who did
not come aft with the other men, asked the captain who he was.  The
captain replied, he was an Indian, and a brave sailor, so called him by
his name.  Wat ye want wit mee, replies the Indian, mee wont come,
dammee.  Upon which the lieutenant sent some of the barge crew to bring
him forward which the brave Indian perceiving, he caught hold of a
handspike, and put himself in a posture of defence, crying out to the
barge crew who came up towards him, dammee, ye meddle wit mee, mee dash
your brains out.  The crew, finding him resolute, did not think proper to
attack him: upon which the lieutenant asked him, if he would serve king
George.  Dam king George, mee know no king George: mee be an Indian, mee
have a king in my own country, whom mee love and fightee for, because he
be de very good king: at which the lieutenant and captain fell a
laughing, and left him.

Are these all your men? says the lieutenant.  Yes, replied the captain,
except an old man, who dreamed the other night that his wife died of the
small-pox, and was so much frightened, that the small-pox is come out
upon him.  The captain then ordered the bills to be made for what was due
to the men, and asked the lieutenant in the mean while to walk down and
taste his rum.  Accordingly down comes the lieutenant, humming a tune.
Mr. Carew, hearing this, prepared himself, and, taking an opportunity of
putting his finger down his throat, discharges his stomach just under the
lieutenant's feet, crying out in a most lamentable tone at the same time,
O, my head!  O my back!  What! cried the lieutenant very hastily, is this
the fellow who has the small-pox?  No, no, replied Carew; I have had the
small-pox many years ago, and have been with Sir Charles Wager and Sir
George Walton up the Baltic; and now, for God's sake, take me on board
your ship, noble captain, for I want only to be blooded.  The lieutenant
whipped out his snuff box, and clapped it to his nose, swearing, he would
not take him on board for five hundred pounds, for he was enough to
infect a whole ship's crew; that the devil should take him before he
would--hurrying at the same time as fast as he could into the great
cabin.  When he came there, Mr. Carew heard him complaining how
unfortunate it was that he should come on board, as he had never had the
small-pox himself.  When the rest of the men had had their bills made
out, the captain, willing to get rid of Mr. Carew, said to him, come, old
John, I will have your bill made to; which was accordingly done, and it
amounted to seven pounds ten shillings, for which the captain gave him a
draught on merchant Tidiate of Bristol.  The captain then ordered the
boat to put him on shore; but he besought the captain to let him die on
board.  No, no, says the captain; by all means take him on shore.  Ay,
ay, says the lieutenant, take him on shore.  Then the captain called to
some of the sailors, to help the poor old man over the side of the ship,
and out came Mr. Carew, with the blanket wrapped about his shoulders, and
so well did he counterfeit, that he seemed a most deplorable object of
compassion.  The boat having got a little distance from the ship, was
called back again, and the lieutenant tossed him half-a-gu

Showing first 200,000 characters. Full text: gutenberg.org/ebooks/27210