And I am not afraid to let the world know, For a great many places I hope to descry, My y commission is large, for I made it myself, And the capstern will stretch it full larger by half. It was dated at Corunna, believe it, my friend, From the year Ninety-three, until the world end. I honour St. George, and his colours I'll wear, And quarter I'll give, but no nation I'll spare: The world must assist me in what I do want; And I'll give you my bill, when money grows scant : But this I do say, and do solemnly swear, He that strikes to St. George, the better shall fare; 1 I have done ye no wrong, thou must me forgive, For the sword shall maintain me as long as I live. GENEROUS NATURE OF THE LION. It seems to be very generally admitted, that this animal possesses a nobleness of mind which prevents him from destroying life, except when provoked to anger, or excited by hunger; and the opinion is corroborated by authors who have had an opportunity of ascertaining the fact, in his native state. The instance now adduced cannot be said to be a fair criterion to form a judgment on the subject, as the lion in question had endured long confinement, and possibly his spirit was broken through that circumstance, or it might be converted into a species of affection for his keeper, the result of tender treatment. In the mouth of 'September, 1696, the person who fed the lions at the Tower of London, performed his customary duty by lowering down the food of one which had a little dog for his companion, to the part of the den appropriated for the purpose, where he supposed the animal proceeded to eat it. A short time afterwards, the man went into the den to feed the dog, and, to his infinite surprise and terror, stumbled over the lion; the generous beast, far from resenting the indignity, suffered the intruder to retire without the least interruption... ROBBERY ROBBERY AND INEBRIETY. If the advertisement which closes this article had not removed all doubt respecting the truth of the subject related, the narrative might be considered unworthy of credit. Six highwaymen attacked the Ware coach on Stamford-hill, in the night of November 23d, 1696; and after the customary circle of imprecations, led the horses, vehicle, and passengers under a gibbet, which stood there in terrorem; they then proceeded to rifle each individual, and tore out the breeches-pockets and the skirts from the waistcoats of the gentlemen, to be certain of their contents, which amounted to above an hundred pounds. At the moment the thieves had completed their intentions, a gentleman's servant passed with a cart; the man was immediately summoned to surrender, which he did without resistance; part of the lading of this prize proved to be several hampers of wine; elated by the success of the evening, the highwaymen opened the hampers, seized the bottles, and emptied many in repeated healths to the owner of the liquid, which expanding the generous natures of the six, they insisted upon the stage-coachman and his passengers solacing themselves for their misfortunes by repeated applications to the favourite beverage of the "Rosy God;" then presenting each with two bottles, they were dismissed on their journey, in a state nearly approaching intoxication. "A horse A horseman coming by," continues my authority, "they robbed him of his palfrey, but plied him so hot with their liquor that he seemed very little sensible of his loss; so that stumbling to his inn in his boots, with a bottle in each hand, he made all that he found in the kitchen drink part of his wine, and gave them no small diversion by acting the story, and knocking down several of the company, as the thieves did him.” The person who afforded this diversion to his auditor and spectators on the memorable night of the robbery, appears to have retained much of the good humour produced by the plundered wine when he wrote and sent the ensuing advertisement to the editor of the Flying Post: "Whereas some gentlemen, of a profession that takes denomination from the king's highway, did borrow a little money of a certain person, near the gibbet at Stamford-hill, without any regard to that venerable monitor, on the 23d of November last, at night; and though they were so generous as to make him drink for his money, yet at the same time they took from him a bright bay nag, about 13 hands high, his mane shorn, thorough-paced, trots a little, with a bridle, saddle, and pilch, without either "bargain or promise of payment; he hopes they think his horse worth more than two or three bottles of wine, and therefore desires they would restore him or if any body can give notice of him to George Boon, at the Blue Last in Isling ton, ton, so as he may be had again, shall receive ten shillings reward.” M. MOREAU AND THE SIEUR GEOFFROY. The former of these gentlemen had received the appointment of one of the commissaries of the French army in 1696, and was intimately acquainted with Geoffroy, whom he invited to breakfast with him, on a day which proved most fatal indeed to the two friends. Moreau certainly entertained neither malice nor resentment against his victim; but avarice, equally blind and cruel in its dictates, caused a crime in an instant which years of repentance would never have atoned for. During their conversation at breakfast, Geoffroy mentioned that he possessed bills to the amount of 30,000 livres, and that some of them were drawn upon Moreau; the latter hearing these particulars withdrew, and immediately returned with a pistol and stiletto; the first conveyed a bullet to the unsuspecting guest, and the wretch completed his dreadful purpose by repeated stabs on the body of his old friend. Assisted by a woman under his influence, Moreau wrapped the deceased in linen, and at night the remains of poor Geoffroy were conveyed to the street of the Vieux Augustines, where the watchman found the body in the morning, and whence it was removed to the Châtelet; being recognized at that place, the Government decreed a hand some |