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confequence of this report, the court delayed fentence against her till the third Monday of November next; and defired the midwives, that in the mean time, they would frequently vifit the prifoner, in order to be able to ascertain whether fhe is pregnant or not.

Some Account of Barny Carrol and Win
King, lately executed at Tyburn.

D

A

Uring the course of this month, the hand of Juftice has broken one of the moft horrid combinations B that ever was formed against civil fociety. It confifted of boys and men ; the boys were to pick pockets; and if they were detected, the men were to deliver them, by cutting the injured perfon cross the eyes.

D

In confequence of this daring, diabolical affociation, two boys, Byfield C and Matthews, fet out in the evening of the 7th of June, under the protection of two men, Barny Carrol and William King. Carrol and Byfield had been together all day, and in the evening, about fix o'clock, they met King and Matthews, at the Golden Boot in Cross-Lone. The two boys had found a razor bladed clasp knife, about nine inches long when open, a few days before, and Carrol gave them a penny a-piece for it. This knife he made fharp at the Boot; and it was agreed that Matthews and Byfield fhould that night pick pockets, or fnatch hats; E and that Carrol & King fhould be near to receive what they itole, and thould frike, ftab, or cut the nofe and eyes of any that molefted them.

They proceeded, from the Boot, down Bow freet, Covent Garden, and came into the Strand thro' Catherine

Brest, between nine and ten o'clock. F
They crofled the way, Carrol march-
ing firt with Byfield, and King follow-
ing with Matthews: Juft as they came
to Somerset House, Carrol faw Cranley
Thomas Kirby, Elq; who was returning
from the Park towards Temple Bar, and
as the weather was intenfely hot,
walking very flow. Carrol thought this
a good opportunity to begin their o
perations, and bade Byfield attempt
Mr Kirby's pocket; the boy instantly
went forward, and did as he was or
dered; but Mr Kirby, feeling his hand
in his pocket, turned haftily round,
and took him by the fleeve of his waist. H
coat, for he was without a coat, juft
as he was drawing his hand away.

Thus detected, and charged with the fact, the boy was confounded, and

Mr Kirby, to terrify him, told him he would carry him before a Juftice, tho he had no intention of doing it: He did not however flop, but led the boy along, very flowly, towards TempleBar: As foon as he had taken hold of the boy, he perceived Carrol come up, and fix his attention upon him; and foon after he faw Matthews and King, whom he justly imagined to be part of the gang. He did not, however, quit his hold of Byfield, but continued to lead him along, ftill walking very flow, and obferving Carrol to be very active, sometimes behind him, and fometimes before him. He came up once fo near to the boy, that the boy faid foftly to him, Keep away; the Gentleman will let me go; upon whi h he fell back; but the boy overheard him fay to King, D-n bim, but Lavill cut him.

It happened that a gentleman, whofe name fince appears to be Robert Carr, was just going to pafs Mr Kirby as he detected Bifield with his hand in his pocket: Prompted by a natural curiolity, he ftopped to fee how it would end, and, instead of paffing Mr Kirby, as he was about to do, he followed him at a very little diftance: In this fituation, he faw Carrol come up first, then Matthews, and then King; upon which he ftepped forward, and told Mr Kirby there was a gang following him. Mr Kirby then begged he would walk close behind him, to prevent his being knocked down, and Mr Carr did fo: Carrol then fell behind Mr Carr, and Matthews and King followed Carrol, till they came near the corner of Arundel fireet: At this time Carrol push. ed haftily by Mr Carr, having the knife drawn in his hand, and fopped till Mr Kirby came up; then stooping down, and looking up under Mr Kirby's hat, he infantly, with a backhanded blow, as violent as he could make it, ftruck him cross the nose and eyes with the knife.

Mr Kirby wears his hat very low on his forehead, and he happened then to have on a very ftrong hat, almost new; this faved his life, for the blow intirely divided the hat, cutting both through the brim that was turned up, and the crown, in a direction slanting downward.

Carrol, at the moment he made the blow, cried, D-n you, Sir, let the boy go. Mr Carr, hearing this, and feeing the ftroke, laid hold of Carral, but Mr Kirby, at the fame inftant, quitting the boy, and making a blow at Carrol

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with his cane, unfortunately miffed him and truck Mr Carr on the band that held him, which obliged him to -quit his hold. Carrol and Byfield being thus both released at the fame moment, Byfield ran behind a coach, and got away; and Carrol croffing the way, A 3 and running crofs St Clements Churchyard, was purfued by Mr Carr, who, his flipping through the narrow upon pallage, by the chop houfe, into WychAreet, loft fight of him. King and Matthews followed, and fo all got away.

In the mean time Mr Kirby, who felt his nofe benumbed, by the nerves B having been divided, was not aware that he was wounded, but thought he had only received a violent blow: he found his eyes dim, indeed, but he imagined they had thrown dust in them; and putting up his hand to wipe it away, firft difcovered the injury he had fuffered, by finding the blood run very profufely over it.

C

Carrol and Byfield were both known to Wright, and known to be thieves; it appears alfo, that he had frequent intercourse with them; he faw them all four on Friday, the very day the fa& was committed; Carrel and Byfield on one fide of the way, and King and Matthews on the other; but, as he faid, on the tryal, he did not trouble himfelf about them then; he, also, met Carrol and Byfield on the morning after. Mr Kirby had been wounded, before he had received any orders in confequence of that fact; and, being afterwards told Carrol had a watch upon him, he went at feven in the evening of the fame day, to feek him in the ruins of St Giles's, where he found him and fearched him; fo true it is, that these wretches are known to, and in the power of thofe who live by hanging them; it does not appear that Wright found a watch, but he found the Knife that had given the blow, which he delivered to Carrol again and left him. But going afterwards to his master's, the Juftices, he, there received orders from the clerk, to take the perfons Dr Morris had defcribed; accordingly, he went on the evening of Sunday the 9th, to Norfolk-fireet in the Strand, for it ap pears that he always knew where to find them, whether they were idle or at work, and presently faw Carrol and Matthews; he immediately laid hold on Carrol, taking no notice of Matthews, probably knowing that as it was intended he fhould be made an evidence, he could have him when. ever he would. When he feized Carral, he faid, you are the man I have been looking for, and Carrol immediately replied, as appears without any furprize or refiftance, " I judged it. Now, fays Wright, thew me the nearest way to St Giles's round-house, and I will not hand-cuff you, upon which he complied, and walked quietly to the place.

Being then at the door of the Crown and Anchor tavern, he went into it, and ordered a furgeon to be fent for. Mr Ingram, who lives in Arundel-fireet, came in two or three minutes, but Mr Kirby had already loft two quarts of blood. D Mr Ingram found the two great vessels of the forehead divided by a large tranfverfe wound, beginning from the right, and going cross the right eyelid, and cross the nose to the left eyelid, and terminating at the temple; the wound cross the nofe was fo wide that the bone was feen naked; and it E would probably have divided both the eye-balls, if it had not been for the hat.

At the fame time that Mr Kirby fent for Mr Ingram, he fent alfo for Dr Morris, a phyfician; who, by the time that the wound was drefled, came in: F He found a confiderable inflammation, and thought dangerous confequences might follow: The next morning, Saturday, the 8th of June, the Doctor attended again with Mr Ingram; and Mr Kirby, though he had no doubt of Mr Ingram's abilities, yet, being ad. vifed to call in another furgeon, fent for Mr Pyle, from Westminster Hofpital, and every thing proper was done.

They now began to think of taking measures to apprehend the criminals, and Mr Kirby not being in a condition to go out, requested Dr Morris to go to Juftice Fielding's, and defcribe

them as he defcribed them to him: The Doctor went accordingly, and the Juftice fent one Henry Wright in purfuit of them. It appears, that

G

On Monday morning, the 10th, Carrol and the two boys, the evidences, Matthews and Byfield were brought to Mr Kirby by fome of the Juftice's people, and he immediately knew Carrol, whofe appearance was as wretched as his life was wicked; his breeches were in rags, and he had a great coat on, that did not come fo How as his knees; he knew alfo Byfield, the boy that had attempted to pick his pocket, but was not quite fo certain as to Matthews.

Од

On the Saturday fev'nnight, fune the 22d, he went to Juftice Fielding's, to give his information against the prisoners, and there he alfo faw King, who had been taken into cuftody, but when, or how does not appear. He could not fwear to King, but believed him to be the fourth of the gang that had befet him.

Being bound over to prosecute, he put an advertisement into one of the daily papers for Mr Carr, whofe name he did not then know, but whom he defcribed as the perfen he had requested to walk behind him, to come and give evidence.

At the feffions held at the Old Bailey, on Wednesday the roth, and the following days till Saturday the 13th of July, Carrol and King were brought to their tryal, and the two boys made evidences for the King. Mr Carr alfo appeared, and upon proof of the facts that have been related in this narrative they were found guilty.

But though there was no doubt as to the fact, there was fome doubt, whether it fubjected the prifoners to capital punishment. Carrol was tried upon the ftatute, commonly called the Coventry act, for "that he did lie "in wait, and with malice afore

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thought, make an affault on Cran"ley Thomas Kirby, Efq; with inten. D "tion to maim and disfigure him, "and with a certain knife made of

iron and feel which he held in his "right hand, did fit the nofe of the "faid Cranley:" King was indicted for aiding and affifting him.

Now as the mere affault with an intention to maim, and disfigure, is not capital, nor the actual maiming E and disfiguring in this cafe, except the nofe was lit, the furgeons and the phyfician were examined, as to the nature of the wound on Mr Kirby's nofe, and it appearing to be transverfe, they were asked, whether the giving fuch a wound could properly be called fitting; they all agreed that the word it was formerly used for fuch a wound, and, that to fit, and to F divide, or cut, are fynonymous terms: Mr Ingram faid, that Wifeman the author of the celebrated treatife on Surgery, had used the word flitting, for what is now called dividing, and being afked, whether a blow cross the arm would be called a fit wound, he anf wered, that they made no diftinction whether the wound was made one way or the other; the court then faid, "Suppofe they had fit the noftril,"

G

Mr Ingram replied, "we call that an incifed wound."

Upon all this, however, it has been obferved, that the words fit and divide are not now, nor ever were used fynonimously, and that the word divide is not fubftituted inftead of the word fit, fo as to exprefs precifely the fame thing. It is allowed that every flit is a divifion; but it is denied that every divifion is a jiit; at least, it is denied that a member or feature is fit by every wound that divides the feth: It is afferted, that to flit is properly to cut through, and that to incife, if there is fuch a word, is to cut in; fo that the diftinction of an incifed wound is faid to be improperly applied to a wound by which the noftril is cut through. It is alledged that as we should icarce fpeak properly, if when a man's arm was cut tranfverfely, we fhould fay his arm was flit, to neither fhould we speak properly, if when a man's nofe has received a tranfverfe wound, we should fay that his nofe is flit. However, not to enter into the defence of the word incifed, as applied to a wound through the noftril, it is certain that every flesh wound, not a puncture, is a flit, in whatever direction it is made, a fit may be cut in a man's leg as well crofs-way as long-way, and it cannot be denied that to make a flit is flitting: He, therefore, that makes a fit on the nofe, may fairly be faid to fit it. And the determination of the gentlemen on the bench in this cafe certainly does them honour.

Carrol and King were executed, purfuant to their fentence on the 31st day of July last. [See Hift. Chron.]

SIR

A

S many perfons, on account of the prefent drought, are afraid of a scarcity of grain, please to inform your readers, that this inland never fuftained any famine or want of bread, from drought; but when that fatal calamity enfued, it was from rain. In 1257, dreadful famine happened by too much wet, fo that wheat was then fold at 17. 4. the quarter. In 1270, another famine happened by rain. In 1316 and 1335, by the great rains, wheat rofe to 40s. and firong beer then rofe to three halfpence the gallon. In 1436 and 1527, by the exceffive rains which fell in harvest time, wheat rofe to 11. 6s, 8d. per quarter; and in 1549, when a scarcity enfued, prices of grain, and all other kinds of provifions, were fettled. Thefe are only a few of the many inftances that might be produced, to prove, that a fcarcity in this inland was never known from drought, but by too much rain,

Journal of a Tour from Rotterdam through Au. ftrian Brabant, and Flanders.

In an EPISTLE to a friend in England.

F

(Continued from p. 334.)

ROM Bruffels foon next morn we went,
Stow'd in the Diligence
to Gbent.
And (pardon it if a digreffion,)
Saw by the way a droll proceffion,
Made up of a wild rabble rout,

Who tore the air with many a fhout,
Dress'd in a thousand antic shapes,
And brifk, and frolick fome as apes.
Some were on horseback, fome on foot,
Some with one fpur on, fome one boot,
And ftudious to enhance the fun,
Some carried piftols, fome a gun.
Their martial air would not alarm ye;
"Twas much like our good burgher army t:
For lo! whene'er to fire they try'd.
Some wink'd, and turn'd their heads afide.
Thefe left, we onward laughing went,
And got, at dinner time, to Ghent,
And with good appetite, thro' fafting,
Put up at the inn of St Sebaftian.
Here, as they had done at other places,
Our English friends fat making faces
At this, and that, and t'other dish,
Nought was according to their with.
Tr and I fell fmart to work,
And play'd a vigorous knife and fork,
While they, tho' hungry all, fat mumbling,
And all the time we eat, were grumbling.
Nothing we faid could yield relief,
They figh'd for pudden and roaft beef.
This town is old, and nearly round,
And fpreads a vaft extent of ground.
Here pompous churches we beheld,

And numbers of them worth obferving;
The priests with pride and plenty fwell'd,

The tatter'd common people ftarving.
Hence our three Englife friends light hearted,
From T and your fervant parted,
And in a barge, that fair and huge is,
Went on a fine canal to Bruges,
Thence reach'd Oftend the with'd-for ftrand,
Embark'd and gain'd their native land.
This they refolved on a fudden,
Smit with the love of beef and pudden.

My friend, and I, hence held our way
Precife at noon tide reach'd Courtray,
And there din'd at a publick table,
Where you'd have thought yourself at Babel,
To hear, in loud vociferations,
The languages of different nations.
Sure never founds did worse agree,
Now Yaw Myn beer; now, Si vous plait
Now, Sir, I'm glad to fee you. Whither
D'ye travel next ?-then altogether.

Yet in this ftrife I can declare
The English language had its hare;
(Not meerly because I was there.)
For in the midst of all this coil,
From Paris, by the way of Life,

Juft as our ord'nary was ready,
Arriv'd'fquire Ashby and his lady,
With two or three companions more,
Whom, tho' we'd never feen before,
We greeted joyfully, which they
With equal pleafure did repay.
Their fine behaviour, fenfe, and parts
Struck us at once, and won our hearts,
We joak'd, and laugh'd, and could not quit
Their company without regret,

But part we muft, each bent on journey,
They bound to Gbeat, and we to Tournay.
When there arriv'd, we search'd in vain,
For fomething that would entertain.
Then to our inn, to footh our care,
Sharp fet we bent our steps, and there
(O let it not Tournay disparage)
For fupper had a cow's miscarriage.
So tender 'twas, as well as fmall,
We eat up griftles, bones and all;
Good humour ne'ertheless we kept,
Then drank a chearful glass, and flept.

With early morn, from flumber's trance
We start, and mount the Diligence.
And in one hour (it damp'd our joy)
Reach'd the fam'd field of Fontenoy,
Where Britain's fons, as bold as lions,
Bid France's numerous hoft defiance,
And mow'd their battle down-with fear
Pale Louis fhrank behind his rear,
And thought himself scarce fafe e'en there
In courage, not in numbers, ftrong,
Their dreadful column mov'd along,
Swept, like a thunder-bolt, the plain,
And maik'd its way with heaps of flain,
By numbers wearied out, not beat,

By friends forfook, they fcorn'd to fly,
And gain'd more glory in retreat,

}

Than fome have done by victory.
From thence to Mons we rode that day,
(A town of which, I've nought to fay,)
Thro' a fine country all the way,
Where Ceres fpreads her gifts around,
And laughing harvefts deck the ground.
The farmers little more than glean 'em,
For Church and Queen fhare moft between 'em.
Of all your thieves, fure Abby-Lubbers,
Are fome of the worst kind of robbers.
That eve away to Bienche we bore,
And quarter'd at the Mouton d'Or §,
From whence, next noon, thro' uncouth ways,
Namure receiv'd our dufty chaife.

Namure with various beauties crown'd,
Where'er you caft your eyes around,
Presents a scene exceeding fine,
Where Bacchus' gifts with Ceres' join.
Here, wood-crown'd hills majestic rife,
There verdant vales attract your eyes;
While, ferpentine, the chrystal Maefe
Along the fmiling valley ftrays.

Here with terrific martial frown,
A citadel o'erlooks the town.

So ftrong both art and nature make it,
You'd think old nick could never take it;
Yet 'twas by our third William won,

So the Stage Coaches are called in France and A large French army looking on.

Flanders.

† The train bands bere, which are much of the Jame beroic flamp with yours at London.

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Next, if 'twas needful, I could fhew ye, How, down the Maefe, we fail'd to Hoey, Delighted on the gurgling tide, With charming views on either fide, Of rocks, woods, vineyards, fields of corn, Whate'er a prospect can adorn. -How thence, in open boat degraded, With fcolding, heat, and thirft, quite jaded, We got to Liege, a black-guard place, Where's much religion, little grace. -How to Maeftricht we came and took* Departed thence to Bois le Duc ;

From thence to Dort, and home, but fearing 1 fhould not make it worth your hearing; This long epiftle here I'll end,

And am, your Servant, Sir, and Friend,

B. S- -N.

Or who awhile may quote my trifling layt,
And kindly give fome little fhare of praise :
So little fond of what the world calls Fame,
As dies my body, so I wish my name.
Mean while, each brifk emotion as I feel,
I'll play with Mirth, and trip up Sorrow's heel,
Sure fome blithe fpirit fmil'd upon my birth;
For fince I rambled on this fpeck of earth,
I've lov'd to laugh, tho' Care flood frowning by,
And pale Misfortune roll'd her meagre eye.

While eafy Confcience builds her eafy neft
Within my bofom, and fits there at reft,
Why not indulge the fallies of the foul?
Why ftop the tides of pleasures as they roll?
Shall peevish veterans, of rigid mould,
Who think all wisdom center'd in the old,
Shall fuch (though aged merit I revere)
Blockade my fancy in its bold career?

Copy of a WILL found in the House of an old Ba- No :-Light of heart, as long as health remains, chelor, very lately deceased.

WITH

ITH a mind quite at ease, in the even-
ing of life,
Unincumber'd with children, relations, or wife;
Not in friendship with one fingle creature alive,
I make my last Will in the year Sixty-five.
How I leave my affairs tho' I care not a straw,
Left a grocer fhould ftart up my true heir at law;
Or of fuch in default, which would prove a worfe
thing

My lands unbequeath'd should revert to the K-g,
I give and bequeath (be it firft understood,
I'm a friend, & firm friend, to the general good;
And, odd as I feem, was remark'd from my
youth,

A flickler at all times for honour and truth)
Το the peer, for his mirth-making catches,
And for aiding his friends in the warrant dif-
patches;

For a life of example, fo great in the end,
Through intereft led to betray his old friend.
To, the bully, and scourge of the law,
Whofe art is to make, then be paid for a flaw;
Who impartially pleads, & with juftice decides,
And takes, without fcruple, a fee from both fides;
give now, I fay, all my pers'nal affairs,
With my lands in fee fimple, to them and their
heirs;

As I mean by this act, in a word, to fet forth
My real attachment to honour and worth,
It's true, I might give (fo may many more ftill)
A mite or two more to our Patriot WILL
But there's brother Pynfent, withal not to men-

tion

How warm the boy is with his Majefty's Penfion. LIBER.

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And guides her puppet fpirits through my veina;
Thro life's thick buftle I will edge my way,
And join the laughing chorus of the day:
Though fhort-liv'd wit should ridicule my name,
And ftrive to brand me with the mark of fhame;
Tho' fools, who form no judgment of their own,
Whom nature never meant to think alone;
Who deat out praise at random, or condemn
(Or right, or wrong, 'tis all the fame to them)
Though fuch infult me, calmly fhall I fit,
And grin at folly, as I laugh at wit.

With juft fo much religion in my heart,
As will, I truft, fecure my deathless part;
That makes the weight of poverty feem light;
With pure contentment ever in my fight,
With two fuch friends, ye grave ones, tell me

why,

Tell me, in fober fadness, fhall I cry?

W

To DAMO N.
"HEN Damon afk'd me for a kifs,
The favour I refus'd;

He vow'd he took it much amifs,
Nor would be thus amus'd,
Platonic Love was all a jeft,

And though he much admir'd
The polish'd foul, yet that at best
But languid joy inspir'd,
Convinc'd, he lov'd with ardent truth,
Nor falfe did pretend;
With foft defire, and glowing youth,
Why should I then contend?
Yet hear me, Damon, while I tell
A Rofe's hapless fate,
Whofe blooming pride, as it befel,

Thus haften'd on its date.
This flow'r, a garden's lovely boast,
With blushing fweetness grew;
A wand'ring youth the parterre croft,
And faw its beauteous hue.
Impatient of the fragrant prize,
He robs the flow'ry tree;
But foon its tranfient (weetness flies,
A fcentlefs weed to fee:
Then, from his bofom quickly thrown,
No longer gives delight;

The bloom its faded leaves had known,
Quite wither'd from the fight.
Such is the fate of ev'ry maid,
Whofe unfufpicious mind

Yields

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