Col. Hutchinson Defends his Condemnation of Charles I. the former appear to be above the imperfections to faithful wife relates, shewed great address and which they are subject. Somewhat slow they are, firmness. indeed, of both conception and expression; yet no whit the less provided with solid prudence. When they are engaged to speak, their tongue doth not readily interpret the dictates of their mind, so that their language comes, as it were, dropping from their lips, even where they are encouraged by familiar entreaties, or provoked by the smartness of jests, which sudden and nimble wits have newly darted at them. Costive they are also in invention; so that when they would deliver somewhat solid and remarkable, they are long in seeking what is fit, and as long in determining in what manner and words to utter it. But after a little consideration, they penetrate deeply into the substance of things and marrow of business, and conceive proper and emphatic words by which to express their sentiments. Barren they are not, but a little heavy and retentive. Their gifts lie deep and concealed; but being furnished with notions, not airy and umbratil ones borrowed from the pedantism of the schools, but true and useful-and if they have been manured with good learning, and the habit of exercising their pen-oftentimes they produce many excellent conceptions, worthy to be transmitted to posterity. Having, however, an aspect very like to narrow and dull capacities, at first sight most men take them to be really such, and strangers look upon them with the eyes of neglect and contempt. Hence it comes, that excellent parts remaining unknown, often want the favour and patronage of great persons, whereby they might be redeemed from obscurity, and raised to employments answerable to their faculties, and crowned with honours proportionate to their merits. The best course, therefore, for these to overcome that eclipse which prejudice usually brings upon them, is to contend against their own modesty, and either, by frequent converse with noble and discerning spirits, to enlarge the windows of their minds, and dispel those clouds of reservedness that darken the lustre of their faculties; or, by writing on some new and useful subject, to lay open their talent, so that the world may be convinced of their intrinsic value.dealt with as criminals, by that people, for whom we In 1670, Dr Charleton published a vigorous translation of Epicurus's Morals. LUCY HUTCHINSON. There is a group of ladies of the seventeenth century whose Memoirs and Letters are of very great interest. LUCY HUTCHINSON (1620-1659) was a daughter of Sir Allan Apsley, and widow of Colonel John Hutchinson, governor of Nottingham Castle, and one of the judges of Charles I. Mrs Hutchinson wrote Memoirs of her husband's life and of her own, which were first published by their descendant, the Rev. Julius Hutchinson, in 1806. Few books are more interesting than this biographical narrative, which, besides adding to our knowledge of the period of the Civil War and the Commonwealth, furnishes information as to the domestic life, the position of women in society, the state of education, manners, &c. all related in a frank, lively, and engaging style. The lady was a person of great spirit and talent, of strong feelings, and of unbounded devotion to her husband and his political views. Though concurring in the sentence which condemned Charles I. to the scaffold, Colonel Hutchinson testified against Cromwell's usurpation, and lived in retirement till the Restoration. He was afterwards included in the act of amnesty. In the debate on the treatment to be dealt to the regicides, Colonel Hutchinson, as his 470 When it came to Inglesby's turn, he, with many tears, professed his repentance for that murther; and told a false tale, how Cromwell held his hand, and forced him to subscribe the sentence! And made a most whining recantation; after which he retired, and another had almost ended, when Colonel Hutchinson, who was not there at the beginning, came in, and was told what they were about, and that it would be expected he should say something. He was surprised with a thing he expected not, yet neither then nor in any the like occasion, did he ever fail himself, but told them, 'that for his actings in those days, if he had erred, it was the inexperience of his age, and the defect of his judgment, and not the malice of his heart, which had ever prompted him to pursue the general advantage of his country more than his own; and if the sacrifice of him might conduce to the public peace and settlement, he should freely submit his life and fortune to their dispose; that the vain expense of his age, and the great debts his public employments had run him into, as they were testimonies that neither avarice nor any other interest had carried him on, so they yielded him just cause to repent that he ever forsook his own blessed quiet to embark in such a troubled sea, where he had made shipwreck of all things but a good conscience. And as to that particular action of the king, he desired them to believe he had that sense of it that befitted an Englishman, a Christian, and a gentleman. As soon as the colonel had spoken, he retired into a room where Inglesby was, with his eyes yet red, who had called up a little spirit to succeed his whinings, and embracing Colonel Hutchinson: 'O colonel,' said he, 'did I ever imagine we could be brought to this! Could I have suspected it when I brought them Lambert in the other day, this sword should have redeemed us from being had so gloriously exposed ourselves.' The colonel told him he had foreseen, ever since those usurpers thrust out the lawful authority of the land to enthrone themselves, it could end in nothing else; but the integrity of his heart in all he had done made him as cheerfully ready to suffer as to triumph in a good cause. The result of the House that day was to suspend Colonel Hutchinson and the rest from sitting in the House. Monk, after all his great professions, now sate still, and had not one word to interpose for any person, but was as forward to set vengeance on foot as any man. LADY FANSHAWE. the daughter of Sir John Harrison, and wife of Sir Richard Fanshawe, ambassador from Charles II. to the court of Madrid in 1665. Lady Fanshawe wrote Memoirs of her own life, to which were added extracts from the correspondence of her husband. They were published in 1829, edited by Sir E. Harris Nicholas, but unfortunately from a very imperfect and inaccurate copy of the original manuscript. The original is extant in the possession of J. G. Fanshawe of Parsons, Essex, and as the Memoirs are of historical and general interest, the work should be re-edited and correctly printed. ANNE HARRISON FANSHAWE (1625-1679) was Lady Fanshawe sees a Ghost in Ireland. We went to the Lady Honor O'Brien's. She was the youngest daughter of the Earl of Thomond. There we staid three nights-the first of which I was surprised by being laid in a chamber, when, about one o'clock, I heard a voice that awakened me. I drew the curtain, and, on the casement of the window, I saw, by the light of the moon, a woman leaning into the window through the casement, in white, with red hair, and pale and ghastly complexion. She spake loud, and in a tone I had never heard, thrice, 'A horse!' and then with a sigh more like the wind than breath, she vanished, and to me her body looked more like a thick cloud than substance. I was so much frightened, that my hair stood on end, and my night-clothes fell off. I pulled and pinched your father, who never woke during the disorder I was in; but at last was much surprised to see me in this fright, and more so when I related the story and shewed him the window opened. Neither of us slept more that night, but he entertained me with telling me how much more these apparitions were usual in this country than in England! and we concluded the cause to be the great superstition of the Irish, and the want of that knowing faith which should defend them from the power of the devil, which he exercises among them very much. About five o'clock the lady of the house came to see us, saying she had not been in bed all night, because a cousin O'Brien of hers, whose ancestors had owned that house, had desired her to stay with him in his chamber, and that he died at two o'clock, and she said: 'I wish you had no disturbance, for 'tis the custom of the place, that, when any of the family are dying, the shape of a woman appears in the window every night till they be dead. This woman was many ages ago got with child by the owner of this place, who murdered her in his garden, and flung her into the river under the window; but truly I thought not of it when I lodged you here, it being the best room in the house.' We made little reply to her speech, but disposed ourselves to be gone suddenly. A Domestic Scene, A.D. 1645. My husband had provided very good lodgings for us [at Bristol], and as soon as he could come home from the council, where he was at my arrival, he, with all expressions of joy, received me in his arms, and gave me a hundred pieces of gold, saying: 'I know thou that keeps my heart so well will keep my fortune, which from this I will ever put into thy hands as God shall bless me with increase; and now I thought myself a perfect queen, and my husband so glorious a crown, that I more valued myself to be called by his name than born a princess; for I knew him very wise and very good, and his soul doted on me-upon which confidence I will tell you what happened. My Lady Rivers, a brave woman, and one that had suffered many thousand pounds loss for the king, and whom I had a great reverence for, and she a kindness for me as a kinswoman, in discourse she tacitly commended the knowledge of state affairs, and that some women were very happy in a good understanding thereof, as my Lady Aubigny, Lady Isabel Thynne, and divers others, and yet none was at first more capable than I; that in the night she knew there came a post from Paris from the queen, and that she would be extremely glad to hear what the queen commanded the king in order to his affairs, saying if I would ask my husband privately he would tell me what he found in the packet, and I might tell her. I, that was young and innocent, and to that day had never in my mouth 'What news?' began to think there was more inquiring into public affairs than I thought of, and that it being a fashionable thing would make me more beloved of my husband, if that had been possible, than I then was. When my husband returned home from council, and went with his handful of papers into his study for an hour or more, I followed him; he turned hastily and said: 'What wouldst thou have, my life?' I told him, I heard the prince had received a packet from the queen, and I guessed it was that in his hand, and I desired to know what was in it. He smilingly replied: "My love, I will immediately come to thee; pray thee, go, for I am very busy.' When he came out of his closet, I revived my suit; he kissed me, and talked of other things. At supper I would eat nothing; he as usual sat by me, and drank often to me, which was his custom, and was full of discourse to company that was at table. Going to bed, I asked again, and said I could not believe he loved me if he refused to tell me all he knew; but he answered nothing, but stopped my mouth with kisses. So we went to bed; I cried, and he went to sleep. Next morning early, as his custom was, he called to rise, but began to discourse with me first, to which I made no reply; he rose, came on the other side of the bed, and kissed me, and drew the curtains softly and went to court. When he came home to dinner, he presently came to me as usual, and when I had him by the hand, I said: 'Thou dost not care to see me troubled;' to which he, taking me in his arms, answered: My dearest soul, nothing upon earth can afflict me like that: but when you asked me of my business, it was wholly out of my power to satisfy thee; for my life and fortune shall be thine, and every thought of my heart in which the trust I am in may not be revealed; but my honour is my own; which I cannot preserve if I communicate the prince's affairs; and pray thee, with this answer rest satisfied.' So great was his reason and goodness, that, upon consideration, it made my folly appear to me so vile, that from that day until the day of his death, I never thought fit to ask him any business, but what he communicated freely to me in order to his estate or family. LADY RACHEL RUSSELL. The Letters of this lady have secured her a place in literature, though less elevated than that niche in history which she has won by heroism and conjugal attachment. Rachel Wriothesley was the second daughter and co-heiress of the Earl of Southampton. In 1667, when widow of Lord Vaughan, she married Lord William Russell, a son of the first Duke of Bedford. She was the senior of her second husband by five years, and it is said that her amiable and prudent character was the means of reclaiming him from youthful follies into which he had plunged at the time of the Restoration. His subsequent political career is known If ever a man to every reader of English history. opposed the course of a government in a pure and unselfish spirit, that man was Lord William Russell. The suspicious correspondence with Barillon, alluded to in the notice of Algernon Sidney (ante, 338), leaves him unsullied, for the ambassador distinctly mentions Russell and Lord Hollis as two who would not accept bribes. When brought to trial (July 1683), under the same circumstances as those which have been related in Sidney's casewith a packed jury and a brutal judge-and refused a counsel to conduct his defence, the only grace that was allowed him was to have an amanuensis. Lord Russell. May I have somebody to write, to assist my memory? Mr Attorney-general. Yes, a servant. Lord Chief-justice. Any of your servants shall assist you in writing anything you please for you. Lord Russell. My wife is here, my lord, to do it. And when the spectators, we are told, turned their eyes and beheld the devoted lady, the daughter of the virtuous Earl of Southampton, rising up to assist her lord in his uttermost distress, a thrill of anguish ran through the assembly. Lady Russell, after the condemnation of her husband, personally implored his pardon without avail. He loved her as such a wife deserved to be loved; and when he took his final farewell of her, remarked: "The bitterness of death is now past!' Her ladyship died in 1723, at the age of eighty-seven. Fifty years afterwards, appeared that collection of her Letters which gives her a name in our literary history. To Dr Fitzwilliam-On her Sorrow. of loving and being loved by those I loved and respected; on earth no enjoyment certainly to be put in the balance with it. All other are like wine, which intoxicates for a time, but the end is bitterness, at least not profitable. Mr Waller, whose picture you look upon, has, I long remember, these words: All we know they do above Is, that they sing, and that they love. The best news I have heard is, you have two good companions with you, which, I trust, will contribute to divert you this sharp season, when, after so sore a fit as I apprehend you have felt, the air even of your improving pleasant garden cannot be enjoyed without hazard. To Lord Cavendish-Bereavement. WOBORNE ABBEY, 27th Nov, 1685. As you profess, good doctor, to take pleasure in your writings to me, from the testimony of a conscience to forward my spiritual welfare, so do I to receive them as one to me of your friendship in both worldly and spiritual concernments; doing so, I need not waste my time nor Though I know my letters do Lord Cavendish no seryours to tell you they are very valuable to me. That vice, yet, as a respect I love to pay him, and to thank you are so contented to read mine, I make the just him also for his last from Limbeck, I had not been so allowance for; not for the worthiness of them, I know it long silent, if the death of two persons, both very near cannot be ; but, however, it enables me to keep up an and dear to me, had not made me so uncomfortable to advantageous conversation without scruple of being too myself, that I knew I was utterly unfit to converse where troublesome. You say something sometimes, by which I would never be ill company. The separation of I should think you seasoned or rather tainted with being friends is grievous. My sister Montague was one I loved so much where compliment or praising is best learned; tenderly; my Lord Gainsborough was the only son of a but I conclude, that often what one heartily wishes to be sister I loved with too much passion: they both deserved in a friend, one is apt to believe is so. The effect is not to be remembered kindly by all that knew them. They nought towards me, whom it animates to have a true, both began their race long after me, and I hoped should not false title to the least virtue you are disposed to have ended it so too; but the great and wise Disposer attribute to me. Yet I am far from such a vigour of of all things, and who knows where it is best to place mind as surmounts the secret discontent so hard a destiny his creatures, either in this or in the other world, has as mine has fixed in my breast; but there are times the ordered it otherwise. The best improvement we can mind can hardly feel displeasure, as while such friendly make in these cases, and you, my dear lord, rather than conversation entertained it; then a grateful sense moves I, whose glass runs low, while you are young, and I hope one to express the courtesy. have many happy years to come, is, I say, that we should all reflect there is no passing through this to a better world without some crosses; and the scene sometimes shifts so fast, our course of life may be ended before we think we have gone half-way, and that a happy eternity depends on our spending well or ill that time allotted us here for probation. If I could contemplate the conducts of Providence with the uses you do, it would give ease indeed, and no disastrous events should much affect us. The new scenes of each day make me often conclude myself very void of temper and reason, that I still shed tears of sorrow and not of joy, that so good a man is landed safe on the happy shore of a blessed eternity; doubtless he is at rest, though I find none without him, so true a partner he was in all my joys and griefs; I trust the Almighty will pass by this my infirmity; I speak it in respect to the world, from whose enticing delights I can now be better weaned. I was too rich in possessions whilst I possessed him : all relish is now gone, I bless God for it, and pray, and ask of all good people-do it for me from such you know are so-also to pray that I may more and more turn the stream of my affections upwards, and set my heart upon the ever-satisfying perfections of God; not starting at his darkest providences, but remembering continually either his glory, justice, or power is advanced by every one of them, and that mercy over all his works, as we shall one day with ravishing delight see: in the meantime, I endeavour to suppress all wild imaginations a melancholy fancy is apt to let in; and say with the man in the gospel: 'I believe; help thou my unbelief.' To the Earl of Galway-On Friendship. Live virtuously, my lord, and you cannot die too soon, nor live too long. I hope the last shall be your lot, with many blessings attending it. SIR THOMAS URQUHART. A translation of Rabelais, partly executed in this period, and which still maintains its place as a faithful rendering of the sense and style of the original, is deserving of notice. The first three books of the History of Gargantua and Pantagruel were translated by SIR THOMAS URQUHART in 1653; two books were published in his lifetime; and PETER ANTHONY MOTTEUX (1660-1718)— a Frenchman by birth, but known as a dramatic writer in English-republished the work of Urquhart, and added the three remaining books translated by himself. This joint production was again published by JOHN ÖZELL (died in 1743), Motteux, and notes by a French editor, JACOB with corrections of the text of Urquhart and LE DUCHAT (1658-1735), who is said to have spent forty years in composing annotations on Rabelais. I have before me, my good lord, two of your letters, both partially and tenderly kind, and coming from a sincere heart and honest mind-the last a plain word, but, if I mistake not, very significant-are very comfortable to me, who, I hope, have no proud thoughts of myself as to any sort. The opinion of an esteemed friend, that one is not very wrong, assists to strengthen a weak and willing mind to do her duty towards that Almighty sometime a churchman, but ran away from his convent and studied Being who has, from infinite bounty and goodness, so checkered my days on this earth, as I can thankfully reflect I felt many, I may say as many years of pure and, I trust, innocent, pleasant content, and happy enjoyments as this world can afford, particularly that biggest blessing * Francis Rabelais, born in 1483 at Chinon, in Touraine, was medicine. He obtained the Pope's absolution for the breach of his monastic vows, and died cure or rector of Meudon, about 1553In his satirical romance, Rabelais, under an allegorical veil, lashes the vices of his age, especially the vices of the clergy. His work necessary, as Coleridge argues, as an amulet against the monks is stained with grossness and buffoonery, which were perhaps and legates.' SIR THOMAS URQUHART of Cromarty was a man of lively fancy, wit, and learning, but on some points hopelessly crazed. He traces the genealogy of his family up to Adam, from whom he was the 153d in descent, and by the mother's side he ascends to Eve. The first of the family who settled in Scotland was one Nomostor, married to Diosa (daughter of Alcibiades), who took his farewell of Greece and arrived at Cromarty, or Portus Salutis, 389 years before Christ! Sir Thomas was knighted by Charles I. and having proceeded with Charles II. into England, was present at the battle of Worcester, and there taken prisoner. He is said to have died of an inordinate fit of laughter, combined with the effect of 'flowing cups,' on hearing of the restoration of Charles II. Besides his excellent translation of Rabelais, the eccentric knight was author of a treatise on Trigonometry, (1650), Epigrams, Divine and Moral (1646); Introduction to the Universal Language (1653); The Discovery of a most exquisite Jewel, more precious than Diamonds inchased in Gold, the like whereof was never seen in any age; found in the Kennel of Worcester Streets the day after the Fight and six before the Autumnal Equinox, anno 1651. This 'Jewel' is a vindication of the honour of Scotland from the 'infamy' cast upon it by the rigid Presbyterian party. It contains the adventures of the Admirable Crichton and other brave and eminent Scotsmen. The following is one of Sir Thomas's epigrams: Take man from woman, all that she can shew, NEWSPAPERS. We have referred in a previous page (ante, 228) to the rise of newspapers. Down to the middle of the seventeenth century, and even later, intelligence of public events was chiefly conveyed by means of news-letters. 'To prepare such letters,' says Macaulay, 'became a calling in London, as it now is among the natives of India. The newswriter rambled from coffeeroom to coffee-room, collecting reports; squeezed himself into the Sessions House at the Old Bailey, if there was an interesting trial; nay, perhaps obtained admission to the gallery of Whitehall, and noticed how the king and duke [Charles II. and the Duke of York] looked. In this way he gathered materials for weekly epistles, destined to enlighten some county town or some bench of rustic magistrates. Such were the sources from which the inhabitants of the largest provincial cities, and the great body of the gentry and clergy, learned almost all that they knew of the history of their own time.' At this period, there existed a censorship of the press. In 1637, the Star Chamber of Charles I. issued a decree prohibiting the printing of all books, pamphlets, &c. that were not specially licensed and authorised. The Long Parliament continued the restriction by an Order, dated June 14, 1643, which prompted the Areopagitica of Milton, published the following year. But the newspapers appear to have been unmolested. During the civil war, Diurnals and Mercuries, in small quarto, began to be disseminated by the different parties into which the state was divided. Nearly a score are said to have been started in 1643, when the war was at its height. Peter Heylin, in the preface to his Cosmography, mentions that 'the affairs of each town or war were better presented in the weekly newsbooks.' Accordingly, we find some papers, entitled News from Hull, Truths from York, Warranted Tidings from Ireland, and Special Passages from other places. As the contest proceeded, the impatience of the public for early intelligence led to the shortening of the intervals of publication; and papers began to be distributed twice or thrice in every week. Among these were the French Intelligencer, the Dutch Spy, the Irish Mercury, the Scots Dove, the Parliament Kite, and the Secret Owl. There were likewise weekly papers of a humorous character, such as Mercurius Acheronticus, or News from Hell; Mercurius Democritus, bringing wonderful news from the world in the moon; the Laughing Mercury, with perfect news from the antipodes; and Mercurius Mastix, faithfully lashing all Scouts, Mercuries, Posts, Spies, and other intelligencers. On one side was the Weekly Discoverer, and on the other, the Weekly Discoverer Stripped Naked. So important an auxiliary was the press considered, that each of the rival armies carried a printer along with it. The most conspicuous of the journalists and political writers of that period were MARCHMONT NEEDHAM (1620-1678), SIR JOHN BIRKENHEAD (1615-1679), and SIR ROGER L'ESTRANGE, already noticed as author and translator (ante, 467). Needham was a servile politician. With his Mercurius Britannicus he supported the parliamentarians from 1643 to 1647; with his Mercurius Pragmaticus he defended the king and royalists from 1647 till 1649; and with his Mercurius Politicus he was the champion of the Independents and Commonwealth till the Restoration in 1660. Birkenhead was a consistent, unscrupulous royalist, with considerable talent for satire and ridicule. His Mercurius Aulicus, or Court Mercury, was the medium of communication between the court at Oxford and the country at | large. Cromwell, with characteristic magnanimity, abolished the office of licenser; but it was restored by the government of Charles II. in 1662. In 1663, L'Estrange was appointed licenser; and in August of that year, he started his Public Intelligencer, which was continued till November 1665, when the Oxford Gazette appeared. The court had retired to Oxford, in consequence of the plague in London, and when this malady had ceased and the court returned to the metropolis, the title of 'Oxford Gazette' was changed to that of London Gazette. L'Estrange afterwards defended the arbitrary measures of the court from 1679 to 1687 in his journal, The Observator. He had many rivals, but was never eclipsed, in ready wit or raillery, or as a purveyor of news. In his character of licenser, L'Estrange issued a proclamation for suppressing the printing and publishing unlicensed news-books and pamphlets of news, because it has become a common practice for evil-disposed persons to vend to his majesty's people all the idle and malicious reports that they could collect or invent, contrary to law; the continuance whereof would in a short time endanger the peace of the kingdom: the same manifestly tending thereto, as has been declared by all his majesty's subjects unanimously? The charge for inserting advertisements, as appears from the Jockey's Intelligencer, 1683, was then 'a shilling for a horse or coach, for notification, and sixpence for renewing;' also in the Observator Reformed, it is announced that advertisments of eight lines are inserted for one shilling; and Morphew's County Gentleman's Courant, two years afterwards, says, that'seeing promotion of trade is a matter that ought to be encouraged, the price of advertisements is advanced to 2d. per line.' The publishers at this time, however, seem to have been sorely puzzled for news to fill their sheets, small as they were; and a few of them got over the difficulty in a sufficiently ingenious manner. Thus, the Flying Post, in 1695, announces, that if any gentleman has a mind to oblige his country friend or correspondent with this account of public affairs, he may have it for 2d. of J. Salisbury, at the Rising Sun in Cornhill, on a sheet of fine paper; half of which being blank, he may thereon write his own private business, or the material news of the day.' And again, Dawkes's News-letter-This letter will be done up on good writing-paper, and blank space left, that any gentleman may write his own private business. It will be useful to improve the younger sort in writing a curious hand!' Between 1661 and 1688, it appears that no less than seventy newspapers were published -none oftener than twice a week, and some of them very short-lived. In 1709, the first morning paper appeared, under the title of the Daily Courant, and the discussion of political topics in newspapers is referred to this period. Hallam says: "I find very little expression of political feelings till 1710, after the trial of Sacheverell and change of ministry. The Daily Courant and Postman then begin to attack the Jacobites, and the Postboy the Dissenters. But these newspapers were less important than the periodical sheets, such as the Examiner and Medley, which were solely devoted to party controversy.' Swift and Bolingbroke were among the writers for these periodical publications. The Tory ministers, in 1712, put a stamp-duty of a halfpenny on every printed half-sheet, and a penny on a whole sheet, besides a duty of one shilling on every advertisement. Many of the papers were immediately stopped: 'all Grub Street is ruined by the Stamp Act,' said Swift; but the periodical press continued to do battle for popular rights, though subjected to restrictions and persecution. From the accession of George I. may be dated the publication of parliamentary reports, 474 though they were at first but general outlines, and the speakers were indicated by names drawn from Roman history. Even in 1740, Walpole was Tullius Cicero,' and Chesterfield 'Piso.' The real liberty of the press is of very recent date, the result of a long succession of struggles. The first newspaper printed in Scotland was issued under the auspices of a party of Cromwell's troops at Leith, who caused their attendant printer to furnish impressions of a London Diurnal for their information and amusement. This was Needham's Mercurius Politicus, and the first number of the Scotch reprint appeared on the 26th of October 1653. In November of the following year, the establishment was transferred to Edinburgh, where this reprinting system was continued till the 11th of April 1660. About nine months afterwards appeared the Mercurius Caledonius, of which the ten numbers published contain some curious traits of the extravagant feeling of joy occasioned by the Restoration, along with many poor attempts at wit and cleverness.* It was succeeded by the Kingdom's Intelligencer, which continued about seven years. After this, there were only reprints of the English newspapers till 1699, when the Edinburgh Gazette was estab lished. In Ireland, the rebellion of 1641 called forth a news-sheet, entitled Warranted Tidings from Ireland. It was soon dropped; and it was not until 1685 that a regular newspaper, The Dublin News-letter, was published. This was followed by Pue's Occurrences, a small daily journal printed in Dublin, which was popular, and had vitality enough to exist for half a century. new gallows, the supporters to be of stones, and beautified with *For example: 'March 1, 1661.-A Report from London of a statues of the three grand traitors, Cromwell, Bradshaw, and Ireton.' 'As our old laws are renewed, so likewise are our good honest customs; for nobility in streets are known by brave retinues of their relations; when, during the Captivity [the Commonwealth), a lord was scarcely to be distinguished from a commoner. Nay, the old hospitality returns; for that laudable custom of suppers, which was covenanted out with raisins and roasted cheese, is again in fashion; and where before a peevish nurse would have been seen tripping up-stairs and down-stairs, with a posset for the lord or the lady, you shall now see sturdy jackmen, groaning with the weight of sirloins of beef, and chargers loaden with wild-fowl and capon.' 'But of all our bontadoes and capriccios [on the day of the coronation of Charles II.), that of the immortal Janet Geddes, princess of the Tron adventurers [herb-women] was the most pleasant; for she was not only content to assemble all her creels, baskets, creepies, forms, and other ingredients that composed her shop, but even her weather chair of state, where she used to dispense justice to her lang-kale vassals, which were all very orderly burnt, she herself countenancing the action with a high-flown spirit and vermilion majesty.' |