blood of individuals. In that contest were sacrificed the lives of many brave seamen, and, among others, that of the humble hero of this narrative. After he had distinguished himself, during the heat of the action, by signal instances of courage and intrepidity, almost the last shot which the enemy fired severed him in two. His comrades lamented his loss with the sincerity of sailors, and amidst the acclamations of victory committed him to the deep. 1 It was some time, before Mary received the fatal intelligence; her first expressions of grief were wild and frantic, but the nearer prospect of penury threw over her countenance the thoughtful air of settled dejection. At the decease of her husband his annuity was, of course, no more; and a few pounds, which were due from his country to his past services, formed almost the whole of the little subsistence by which she and three children were henceforward to be supported. She immediately took leave of the cottage, which was no more to be gladdened with the presence of Wilson, and retired to a meaner habitation. Here she endeavoured to obtain a maintenance by employing herself and children in making nets for the fishermen; but, as most of them had families of their own, this expedient afforded her little encouragement. Her misfortunes being known in the neighbourhood, a gentleman, who had formerly been in the navy, observed" that it was a pity three such fine boys should not serve his Majesty;" and accordingly sent them to the Marine Society in London; but upon being solicited to procure some means of subsistence for the widow, he replied, “ that he did not know of any provision made for her by the government, or that she had any reason to expect it; for that her husband and her children were now out of her way, and she was free from all incumbrances as before she was married." 66 To have known better days, will sometimes recommend us to gratuitous relief, but rarely to employment. Prosperity is not supposed to have prepared the mind for humiliation and dependence; and the obedience of those who have been unused to servitude, will always be thought insufficient. Wherever Mary offered her services, she was, as is usual, constantly interrogated respecting her last place; and on the recital of her story, as regularly rejected. Sometimes, indeed, the humane would afford her temporary succours; but favours once conferred are not often repeated. Many, however, would coldly remark, that her distress was not peculiar to herself, and that the same provi sion was made for her, as for the neral. poor in ge. Hunger now stared her in the face; yet a sense of shame still forbade her to ask relief of a parish, in which she had lived with credit and respect. But her distresses did not escape the vigilance of the overseer of the poor, who gave her to understand that she had no settlement in the village, as her husband had never been included in the rates. She was born at a sea-port town in Kent, seventy miles from her present residence; to this place she was ordered to be removed. Having submitted to the insolence and cruelty of the parish-officers in the towns through which she passed, and having survived the fatigue of a journey rendered dangerous by the weakness of her health, she arrived at the place of her destination, and was sent to the workhouse. She had there been supported near three years, when death put an end to her sorrows. Two of her sons are now in the service of their country, and inherit their father's bravery; perhaps, his fate. THE COUNTRY SPECTATOR, No. 27, April 9, 1793. No. CLXV. Mista senum ac juvenum densantur funera; nullum HORAT. Both age and youth, promiscuous, crowd the tomb ; THAT the good and evil, the felicities and misfortunes of human life, are alike precarious, is a great and established truth, known and felt by the most rude and untutored people. Every one knows that our lives, being at the divine disposal, are not for a moment sure. The hand of death hangs over us in the joyous hours of hilarity, threatens the tranquil pleasures of connubial happiness, and meets us with its pointed dart, amidst the dignity of religious and philosophic retirement. Death shoots his stings from every side, and is terrible to all. youth, and the gray hairs of age; the blushing' smiles of beauty, and the paleness of declining elegance; the glittering magnificence of royalty, and the humble roof of rural quietness; the rudeness of unlettered barbarism, and the polish of instructed genius; must all yield to the inevitable blow. The rose of When the social comforts of life thus drop away, let us not, like Zeno, coldly refuse to pay our tribute to departed worth, but, with all the warmth of Tibullus, speak the language of our hearts. I have been led into these reflections by the death of that celebrated and illustrious man, who has opened the long hidden mines of Oriental literature, and displayed them to the European world, with all the brilliancy of British eloquence. And can there be a subject more worthy the notice of an Indian Observer, than that exalted character? The man, who, with all the amiable and endearing qualities of the heart, disdaining the lesser amusements of life, devoted his time to the service of his country, of science, and of virtue. Possessing in all the habitudes of life a perennial spring of cheerfulness, and a conciliating gentleness of manners, warmed by the simple greatness of moral affection, is there a heart so callous as not to feel his loss? Is there a husband who knows the tenderness of love, and the purity of domestic felicities; is there a friend who glows with sincerity; or is there a man who respects the divine attributes of virtue, who does not deplore it with the deepest regret? Their breasts beat in unison of sorrow, |