The history of little Jack. Embellished with a number of engravings. : To which is added, The little queen, a moral tale. Natural history of the bee. Natural history of the silkworm. Epistle to a friend on his return from the army. And The universal prayer, by A. Pope, Esq.

The history of little Jack. Embellished with a number of engravings. : To which is added, The little queen, a moral tale. Natural history of the bee. Natural history of the silkworm. Epistle to a friend on his return from the army. And The universal prayer, by A. Pope, Esq.

Table of contents

Title page

THE HISTORY OF LITTLE JACK.

THE LITTLE QUEEN.

The NATURAL HISTORY of the BEE.

Of the SILKWORM.

EPISTLE to a FRIEND, ON HIS RETURN FROM THE ARMY

THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER.

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THE History of Little Jack. EMBELLISHED WITH A NUMBER OF ENGRAVINGS. TO WHICH IS ADDED,

THE LITTLE QUEEN, A MORAL TALE.

NATURAL HISTORY OF THE BEE.

NATURAL HISTORY OF THE SILKWORM.

EPISTLE TO A FRIEND ON HIS RETURN FROM THE ARMY.

AND THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER, BY A. POPE, ESQ.

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BOSTON: PRINTED AND SOLD BY WILLIAM SPOTSWOOD. 1795.

THE HISTORY OF LITTLE JACK.

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THERE was once a poor lame old man that lived in the midst of a wide uncultivated moor, in the north of England. He had formerly been a soldier, and had almost lost [...] use of one leg by a wound he had received in battle, when he was fighting against the enemies of his country This poor man, when [...]e found himself thus disabled, built a little [...]ut of clay, which he covered with [...] dug [...]om the common. He had a little bit of [...]nd which he made a thi [...]t to cultivate with [Page] his own hands; and which supplied him with potatoes and vegetables; besides this, he sometimes gained a few halfpence by opening a gate for travellers, which stood near his house. He did not indeed get much, because few people passed that way. What he earned was, however, enough to purchase cloaths, and the few necessaries he wanted. But though poor, he was strictly honest, and never failed night and morning to address his prayers to God; by which means he was respected by all who knew him, much more than many who were superior to him in rank and fortune. This old man had one domestic. In his walks over the common, he one day found a little kid that had lost its mother, and was almost famished with hunger: he took it home to his cottage, fed it with the produce of his garden, and nursed it till it grew strong and vigorous. Little Nan, (for that was the name he gave it) returned his cares with gratitude, and became as much attached to him as a dog. All day she browzed upon the herbage that grew around his hut, and at night reposed upon the same bed of straw with her master. Frequently did she divert him with her innocent tricks and gambols. She would nestle her little head in his bosom, and eat out of his hand part of his scanty allowance of bread; which he never failed to divide with his favourite. The old man often beheld her with silent joy, and, in the innocent effusions of his heart, would lift his hand [...] to heaven, and thank the Deity, that, even in the midst of poverty and distress, had raise [...] him up one faithful friend.

[Page]One night, in the beginning of winter, the old man thought he heard the feeble cries and lamentations of a child. As he was naturally charitable, he arose and struck a light, and, going out of his cottage, examined on every side: It was not long before he discerned an infant, which had probably been dropped by some strolling beggar or gypsy. The old man stood amazed at the sight, and knew not what to do. Shall I, said he, who find it so difficult to live at present, incumber myself with the care of an helpless infant, that will not for many years be capable of contributing to its own subsistence? And yet, added he, softening with pity, can I deny assistance to an human being still more miserable than myself?—Will not that Providence which feeds the birds of the wood and the beasts of the field, and which has promised to bless all those that are kind and charitable, assist my feeble endeavours?—At least, let me give it food and lodging for this night; for without I receive it into my cottage, the poor abandoned wretch must perish with cold before the morning. Saying th [...] ▪ he took it up in his arms, and perceived it was a fine healthy boy, though covered with [...] the little foundling too seemed to be sensible [...] his kindness, and smiling in his face, stret [...] ed out his little arms, as if to embra [...] [...] [...]enefactor.

When he had brought it into his [...]ut, he [...]egan to be extremely embarrassed how to procure it food: but looking at Nan, he recollected that she had just lost her kid, and saw her udder distended with milk: he, therefore, [Page] called her to him, and, presenting the child to the teat, was overjoyed to find, that it sucked as naturally as if it had really found a mother. The goat too seemed to receive pleasure from the efforts of the child, and submitted without opposition to discharge the duties of a nurse. Contented with this experiment, the old man wrapped the child up as warmly as he could, and stretched himself out to rest with the consciousness of having done an humane action. Early the next morning he was awakened by the cries of the child for food, which with the assistance of his faithful Nan, he suckled as he had done the night before. And now the old man began to feel an interest in the child, which made him defer some time longer the taking measures to be delivered from its care. Who knows, said he, but Providence which has preserved this child in so wonderful a manner, may have destined it to something equally wonderful in his future life; and may bless me as the humble agent of his decrees? At least, as he grows bigger, he will be a pleasure and comfort to me, in this lonely cabin, and will assist in cutting turf for fuel, and cultivating the garden. From this time he became more and more attached to the little foundling; who, in a short time, learned to consider the old man as a parent, and delighted him with its innocent caresses. Gentle Nanny too, the goat, seemed to adopt him with equal tenderness as her offspring: she would stretch herself out upon th [...] ground, while he crawled upon his hands and knees towards her; and when he had sa [...] [Page] his hunger by sucking, he would nestle between her legs and go to sleep in her bosom.

It was wonderful to see how this child, thus left to nature, increased in strength and vigour. Unfettered by bandages or restraints, his limbs acquired their due proportions and form; his countenance was full and florid, and gave indications of perfect health; and, at an age when other children are scarcely able to support themselves with the assistance of a nurse, this little foundling could run alone. It was true, that he sometimes failed in his attempts, and fell to the ground; but the ground was soft, and little Jack, for so the old man called him, was not tender or delicate; he never minded thumps or bruises, but boldly scrambled up again and pursued his way. In a short time, little Jack was completely master of his legs; and as the summer came on, he attended his mamma, the

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[Page] goat, upon the common, and used to play with her for hours together; sometimes rolling under her belly, now climbing upon her back, and frisking about as if he had really been a kid. As to his cloathing, Jack was not much incumbered with it; he had neither shoes, nor stockings, nor shirt; but the weather was warm, and Jack felt himself so much lighter for every kind of exercise. In a short time after this, Jack began to imitate the sounds of his papa the man, and his mamma the goat; nor was it long before he learned to speak articulately. The old man delighted with this first dawn of reason, used to place him upon his knee, and converse with him for hours together, while his pottage was slowly boiling amid the embers of a turf fire. As he grew bigger, Jack became of considerable use to his father; he could trust him to look after the gate, and open it during his absence: and, as to the cookery of the family, it was not long before Jack was a complete proficient, and could make broth almost as well as his daddy himself. During the winter nights, the old man used to entertain him with stories of what he had seen during his youth; the battles and sieges he had been witness to, and the hardships he had undergone; all this he related with so much vivacity that Jack was never tired of listening. But what delighted him beyond measure was to see daddy shoulder his crutch, instead of a musket, and give the word of command. To the right—to the le [...] —present—fire—march—halt—all this w [...] familiar to Jack's ear as soon as he could speak▪ and before he was six years old, he poized and [Page] presented a broom-stick, which his daddy gave him for that purpose, with as good a grace as any soldier of his age in Europe.

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The old man too instructed him in such plain and simple morals and religion, as he was able to explain. "Never tell an untruth, Jack, said he, even though you were to be [...] alive; a soldier never lies." Jack held up his head, marched across the floor, and [...] his daddy that he would always tell the [...] like a soldier. But the old man, as he [...]as something of a scholar, had a great ambition that his darling should learn to read, and write; and this was a work of some [...] [...]ulty; for he had neither printed book, [...] [...]en [...], nor paper in his cabin. Industry, however [...] enables us to overcome difficulties, in the [...] time, as the old man sat before his [...] he would draw letters in the sand, and [Page] teach Jack to name them singly, until he was acquainted with the whole alphabet, he then proceeded to syllables; and after that to words; all which his little pupil learned to pronounce with great facility: and, as he had a strong propensity to imitate what he saw, he not only acquired the power of reading words, but of tracing all the letters which composed them, on the sand.

About this time, the poor goat which had nursed Jack so faithfully, grew ill and died. He tended her with the greatest affection and assiduity during her illness, brought her the freshest herbs for food, and would frequently support her head for hours together upon his little bosom. But it was all in vain; he lost his poor mammy, as he used to call her, and was for some time inconsolable; for Jack, though his knowledge was bounded, had an uncommon degree of gratitude and affection in his temper. He was not able to talk as finely about love, tenderness, and sensibility, as many other little boys, that have enjoyed greater advantages of education; but he felt the reality of them in his heart, and thought it so natural to love every thing that loves us, that he never even suspected it was possible to do otherwise. The poor goat was buried in the old man's garden, and thither little Jack would often come and call upon his poor mammy Nan, and ask her why she had left him? One day, as he was thus employed, a lady happened to come by in a carriage, and overheard him before [...] was aware. Jack ran in an instant to open [...] [Page] gate; but the lady stopped, and asked him whom he was bemoaning so pitifully, and calling

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upon? Jack answered, that it was his poor mammy, that was buried in the garden. The lady thought it very odd to hear of such a burial place, and therefore proceeded to question him, "How did your mammy get her living?" said she. "She used to graze here upon the common all day long," said Jack. The lady was still more astonished; but the old man came out of his hut, and explained the whole affair to her, which surprised her very much; for though this lady had seen a great deal of the world, and had read a variety of books, it had never once entered into her head that a child might grow strong and vigorous by sucking a goat, instead of eating pap. She therefore looked at Jack with amazement, admired his brown but [...]ted face, and praised his shape and activity. [Page] "Will you go with me, little boy, said she, and I will take care of you, if you behave well?" "No, said Jack, I must stay with daddy; he has taken care of me for many years, and now I must take care of him; otherwise I should like very well to go with such a sweet, good-natured lady." The lady was not displeased with Jack's answer, and putting her hand in her pocket, gave him half a crown, to buy him shoes and stockings, and pursued her journey.

Jack was not unacquainted with the use of money, as he had been often sent to the next village to purchase bread and necessaries; but he was totally unacquainted with the use of shoes and stockings, which he had never worn in his life, or felt the want of. The next day, however, the old man bade him run to town, and lay his money out as the lady had desired; for he had too much honour to think of disobeying her commands, or suffering it to be expended for any other purpose. It was not long before Jack returned; but the old man was much surprised to see him come back as bare as he went out. "Heigh, Jack! said he, where are the shoes [...]nd stockings which you were to purchase?" "Daddy, answered Jack, I went to the shop, and just tried a pair for sport, but I found them so cumbersome, that I could not walk, and I would not wear such things, even if the lady would give me another half cro [...] for doing it; so I laid the money out in [...] warm jacket for you, because the winter i [...] coming on, and you seem to be more afraid [...] the cold than formerly." Many such in [...] [Page] If conduct did Jack display; from which it was easy to perceive, that he had an excellent soul, and generous temper. One failing, indeed Jack was liable to; though a very good natured boy, he was a little too jealous of his honour. His daddy had taught him the use of his hands and legs, and Jack had such dispositions for the art of boxing, that he could beat every boy in the neighbourhood, of his age and size. Even if they were a head taller, it made no difference to Jack, provided they said any thing to wound his honour; for otherwise he was the most mild, pacific creature in the world. One day that he had been sent to the village, he returned with his eyes black, and his face swelled to a frightful size: it was even with difficulty that he was able to walk at all, so sore was he with the pomelling he had received. "What have you been doing now, Jack?" said the old man.—"Only fighting with Dick the butcher." "You rogue, said the old man, he is twice as big as you are, and the best fighter in all the country." "What does that signify, said Jack, he called you an old beggarman, and then I struck him; and I will strike him again whenever he calls you so, even if he should beat me to pieces; for you know, daddy, that you are not a beggarman, but a soldier."

In this manner lived little Jack, until he was twelve years old; at this time his poor old daddy [...] sick and became incapable of moving about. [...] did every thing he could think of for the [...] man; he made him broths, he [...]ed him [...] his own hands, he watched whole nights [...] his bed-side supporting his head and helping [Page] him when he wanted to move. But it was all in vain; his poor daddy grew daily worse, and perceived it to be impossible that he should recover. He one day therefore called little Jack to his bed-side, and pressing his hand affectionately, told him that he was just going to die. Little Jack burst into a flood of tears at this information, but his daddy desired him to compose himself, and attend to the last advice

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he should be able to give him. "I have lived, said the old man, a great many years, in poverty, but I do not know that I have been worse off than if I had been rich. I have avoided, perhaps, many faults, and many uneasinesses, which I should have incurred had I been [...] another situation; and though I have often wanted a meal and always fared hard, I h [...] enjoyed as much health and life as usually fa [...] to the lot of my betters. I am now going [...] [Page] die; I feel it in every part; the breath will soon be out of my body; then I shall be put in the ground, and the worms will eat your poor old daddy." At this Jack renewed his tears and sobbings, for he was unable to restrain them. But the old man said; "Have patience, my child; though I should leave this world, as I have always been strictly honest and endeavoured to do my duty, I do not doubt but God will pity me, and convey me to a better place; where I shall be happier than I have ever been here. This is what I have always taught you, and this belief gives me the greatest comfort in my last moments. The only regret I feel, is for you, my dearest child, whom I leave unprovided for. But you are strong and vigorous, and almost able to get your living. As soon as I am dead, you must go to the next village and inform the people, that they may come and bury me. You must then endeavour to get into service, and work for your living; and, if you are strictly honest and sober, I do not doubt that you will find a livelihood, and that God, who is the common father of all, will protect and bless you. Adieu, my child, I grow fainter and fainter; never forget your poor old daddy, nor the example he has set you; but in every situation of life discharge your duty, and live like a Soldier, and a Christian." When the old man had with difficulty uttered these last instructions, his voice entirely failed him, his limbs grew cold and stiff, and in a few mi [...]utes he expired without a groan. Little Jack, who hung crying over his daddy, called upon him▪ in [...]ain, in vain endeavoured to revive [Page] him. At length he pulled off his cloaths, went into [...]s daddy's bed, and endeavoured for many hours to animate him with the warmth of his own body; but finding all his endeavours fruitless, he concluded that he was indeed dead; and therefore, weeping bitterly, he drest himself, and went to the village as he had been ordered. The poor little boy was thus left entirely destitute and knew not what to do; but one of the farmers, who had been acquainted with him before, offered to take him into his house, and give him his victuals, for a few months, till he could find a service. Jack thankfully accepted the offer, and served him faithfully for several months; during which time he learned to milk, to drive the plough, and never refused any kind of work he was able to perform. But, by ill luck, this good-natured farmer contracted a fever, by over-heating himself in the harvest, and died in the beginning of winter. His wife was therefore obliged to discharge her servants, and Jack was again turned loose upon the world, with only his cloaths, and a shilling in his pocket, which his kind mistress had made him a present of. He was very sorry for the loss of his master; but he was now grown bigger and stronger, and thought he should easily find employment. He therefore set out upon his travels, walking all day, and inquiring at every farm-house for work. But in this attempt he was unfortunate, for nobody chose to employ a stranger and though he lived with the greatest econ [...] my, he soon found himself in a worse situation than ever, without a farthing in his pocket▪ o [...] [Page] a morsel of bread to eat. Jack, however, was not of a temper to be easily cast down; he walked resolutely on all day, but towards evening was overtaken by a violent storm of rain, which wetted him to the skin before he could find a bush for shelter. Now, poor Jack began to think of his old daddy, and the comforts he had formerly enjoyed upon the common, where he had always a roof to shelter him, and a slice of bread for supper. But tears and lamentations were vain; and therefore, as soon as the storm was over, he pursued his journey, in hopes of finding some barn or out-house to creep into for the rest of the night. While he was thus wandering about, he saw at some distance a great light, which seemed to come from some prodigious fire. Jack did not know what this could be; but, in his present situation, he thought a fire no disagreeable object, and therefore determined to approach it. When he came nearer, he saw a large building which seemed to spout fire and smoke at several openings, and heard an incessant [...] of blows, and the rattling of chains. Jack was at first a little frightened, but summoning all his courage, he crept cautiously on to the building, and looking through a chink, discovered several men and boys employed in blowing fires and hammering burning masses of it [...]m. This was a very comfortable sight to him in his present forlorn condition; so finding a door [...] open, he ventured in, and placed himself [...] [...]ear as he dared to one of the fla [...]ng fur [...]. It was not long before he was disco [...]ed by one of the workmen, who asked him▪ [Page]

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roughly, what business he had there? Jack answered with great humility, that he was a poor boy, looking out for work; that he had had no food all day, and was wet to the skin with the rain, which was evident enough from the appearance of his cloaths. By great good luck, the man he spoke to was good natured, and therefore not only permitted him to stay by the fire, but gave him some broken victuals for his supper. After this, he laid himself down in a corner, and slept without disturbance till morning. He was scarcely awake the next day, when the master of the forge came in to overlook his men, who finding Jack, and hearing his story, began to reproach him as a la [...] vagabond, and asked him why he did not wo [...] for his living. Jack assured him there [...] nothing he so earnestly desired, and that if [...] would please to employ him, there was nothi [...] [Page] that he would not do to earn a subsistence. Well, my boy, said the master, if this is true, you shall soon be tried; nobody need be idle here; so calling his foreman, he ordered him to set that lad to work, and pay him in proportion to his deserts. Jack now thought himself completely happy, and worked with so much assiduity, that he soon gained a comfortable livelihood, and acquired the esteem of his master. But unfortunately, he was a little too unreserved in his conversation, and communicated the story of his former life and education. This was great matter of diversion to all the other boys of the forge; who, whenever they were inclined to be merry, would call him little Jack the beggar-boy, and imitate the baaing of a goat. This was too much for his irascible temper, and he never failed to resent it; by which means he was engaged in continual quarrels and combats, to the great disturbance of the house; so that his master, though in other respects perfectly satisfied with his behaviour, began to fear that he should at last be obliged to discharge him.

It happened one day, that a large company of gentlemen and ladies were introduced to see the works. The master attended them, and explained, with great politeness, every part of his manufacture. They viewed with astonishment the different methods by which that useful and necessary ore of iron is rendered fit for human use. They examined the furnaces where it is melted down, to disengage it from the dress, with which it is mixed in the bowels of the earth, and whence it runs down in liquid [Page]

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torrents like fire. They beheld with equal pleasure the prodigious hammers which, moved by the force of water, mould it into massy bars, for the service of man. While they were busy in examining these different processes, they were alarmed by a sudden noise of discord, which broke out on the other side of the building; and the master inquiring into the cause, was told, that it was only little Jack, who was fighting with Tom the collier. At this, the master cried out, in a passion, there is no peace to be expected in the furnace, while that little rascal is employed; send him to me, and I will instantly discharge him. At this moment Jack appeared, all covered with blood and dirt, and stood before his angry judge in a modest, but resolute posture. "Is this the reward, said his master, you little audacious vagabond, of all my kindness? Can you never refrain a single instant [Page]

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from broils and fighting? But I am determined to bear it no longer; and therefore you shall never, from this hour, do a single stroke of work for me." "Sir, replied Jack, with great humility, but yet with firmness, I am extremely sorry to have disobliged you, nor have I ever done it willingly, since I have been here; and if the other boys would only mind their business as well as I do, and not molest me, you would not have been offended now; for I defy them all to say, that since I have been in the house, I have ever given any one the least provocation, or ever refused to the utmost of my strength, to do whatever I have been ordered." "That's true, in good faith, said the foreman; I must do little Jack the justice to say that there is not a more honest, sober, and industrious lad about the place. Set him to what you will, he never sculks, never grumbles, never slights his work; [Page] and if it were not for a little passion and fighting, I don't believe there would be his fellow in England." "Well, said the master a little mollified, but what is the cause of all this sudden disturbance?" "Sir, answered Jack, it is Tom that has been abusing me and telling me that my father was a beggarman and my mother a nanny-goat; and when I desired him to be quiet, he went baaing all about the house; and this I could not bear; for as to my poor father he was an honest soldier, and if I did suck a goat, she was the best creature in the world, and I won't hear her abused while I have any strength in my body." At this harangue, the whole audience were scarcely able to refrain from laughing, and the master, with more composure, told Jack to mind his business, and threatened the other boys with punishment, if they disturbed him.

But a lady who was in company seemed particularly interested about little Jack, and when she had heard his story, said, this must certainly be the little boy who opened a gate several years past for me upon Norcot Moor. I remember being struck with his appearance, and hearing him lament the loss of the goat that nursed him. I was very much affected with his history, and since he deserves so good a character, if you will part with him, I will instantly take him into my service. The master replied, that he should part with him with great satisfaction to such an excellent mistress; that indeed the boy deserved all the commend [...]tions which had been given; but since the other lads had such an habit of plaguing, and Jack was of so impatient a temper, he despaired of ever composing [Page] their animosities. Jack was then called, and informed of the lady's offer, which he instantly accepted with the greatest readiness, and received immediate directions to her house.

Jack was now in a new sphere of life. His face was washed, his hair combed, he was clothed afresh, and appeared a very smart active lad. His business was, to help in the stable, to water the horses, to clean shoes, to perform errands, and to do all the jobs of the family; and in the discharge of these services, he soon gave universal satisfaction. He was inde [...]atigable in doing what he was ordered, never grumbled, or appeared out of temper, and seemed so quiet and inoffensive in his manners, that every body wondered how he had acquired the character of being quarrelsome. In a short time, he became both the favourite and the drudge of the whole family; for, speak but kindly to him and call him a little soldier, and Jack was at every one's disposal. This was Jack's particular foible and vanity; at his leisure hours, he would divert himself by the hour together, in poizing a dung fork, charging with a broom stick, and standing centry at the stable door. Another propensity of Jack's, which now discovered itself, was an immoderate love of horses. The instant he was introduced into the stable, he attached himself so strongly to these animals, that you would have taken him for one of the same species, or at least a near relation. Jack was never tired with rubbing down and carrying them; the coachman had scarcely any business but to sit upon his box; all the [...]perations of the stable were intrusted to little [Page] Jack, nor was it ever known that he neglected a single particular. But what gave him more pleasure than all the rest, was sometimes to accompany his mistress upon a little horse, which he managed with infinite dexterit [...] ▪

Jack too discovered a great disp [...]ion for all the useful and mechanic arts. He had served an apprenticeship already to the manufactory of iron, and of this he was almost as vain as being a soldier. As he began to extend his knowledge of the world, he saw that nothing could be done without iron. How would you plough the ground, said Jack; how would you dig your garden; how would you even light a fire, dress a dinner, shoe a horse, or do the least thing in the world, if we workmen at the forge did not take the trouble of preparing it for you? Thus Jack would sometimes expatiate upon the dignity and importance of his own profession, to the great admiration of all the other servants.

These ideas naturally gave Jack a great esteem for the profession of a blacksmith, and in his occasional visits to the forge with the horses, he learnt to make and fix a shoe as neatly as any artist in the country.

Nor were Jack's talents confined to the manufactory of iron; his love of horses was so great, and his interest in every thing that related to them, that it was not long before he acquired a very competent knowledge in the ar [...] of saddlery.

Jack would also sometimes observe the carpenters when they were at work, and sometime [...] by stealth attempt the management of thei [...] [Page]

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tools; in which he succeeded as well as in every thing else; so that he was looked upon by every body as a very active, ingenious boy.

There was in the family, where he now lived, a young gentleman, the nephew of his mistress, who had lost his parents, and was therefore brought up by his aunt. As Master Willets was something younger than Jack, and a very good-natured boy, he soon began to take notice of him, and be much diverted with his company. Jack, indeed, was not undeserving this attention; for although he could not boast any great advantages of education, his conduct was entirely free from all the vices to which some [...] the lower class of people are subject. [...]span [...]ever heard to swear, or express himself [...] any indecency. He was civil and [...] his manners to all his superiors, and [...] good-natured to his equals. In respect [Page] to the animals entrusted to his care, he not only refrained from using them ill, but was never tired with doing them good offices. Added to this, he was sober, temperate, hardy, active, and ingenious, and despised a lie as much as any of his betters. Master Willets now began to be much pleased with playing at cricket and trap-ball with Jack, who excelled at both these games. Master Willets had a little horse which Jack looked after; and not contented with looking after him in the best manner, he used to ride him at his leisure hours with so much care and address, that in a short time he made him the most gentle and docile little animal in the country. Jack had acquired this knowledge partly from his own experience, and partly from paying particular attention to an itinerant riding-master that had lately exhibited various feats in that neighbourhood. Jack attended him so closely, and made so good

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[Page] an use of his time, that he learned to imitate almost every thing he saw, and used to divert the servants and his young master with acting the tailor's riding to Brentford.

The young gentleman had a master who used to come three times a week to teach him accounts, and writing, and geography. Jack used to be sometimes in the room while the lessons were given, and listened according to custom with so much attention to all that passed, that he received very considerable advantage for his own improvement. He had now a little money, and he laid some of it out to purchase pens and paper and a slate, with which at night he used to imitate every thing he had heard and seen in the day: and his little master, who began to love him very sincerely, when he saw him so desirous of improvement, contrived, under one pretence or another, to have him generally in the room while he was receiving instruction himself.

In this manner Jack went on for some years, leading a life very agreeable to himself, and discharging his duty very much to the satisfaction of his mistress. An unlucky accident at length happened to interrupt his tranquility. A young gentleman came down to visit Master. Willets, who, having been educated in France, and among genteel people in London, had a very great taste for finery, and a supreme con [...]t for all the vulgar. His dress too was a [...] particular, as well as his manners; for he [...]ent half his time in adjusting his head, wore a large black bag tied to his hair behind, and would [...]ometimes strut about for half an hour together [Page] with his hat under his arm, and a little sword

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by his side. This young man had a supreme contempt for all the vulgar, which he did not attempt to conceal; and when he had heard the story of Jack's birth and education, he could scarcely bear to be in the same room with him. Jack soon perceived the aversion which the stranger entertained for him, and at first endeavoured to remove it, by every civility in his power; but when he found that he gained nothing by all his humility, his temper, naturally haughty, took fire, and, as far as he dared, he plainly showed all the resentment he felt.

It happened one day, after Jack had received some very mortifying usage from this [...] gentleman, that as he was walking along [...] road, he met with a showman, who was retur [...] ing from a neighbouring fair with some w [...] [Page] beasts in a cart. Among the rest was a middle sized monkey, who was not under cover like the rest, and played so many antic tricks, and made so many grimaces, as engaged all Jack's attention, and delighted him very much, for he always had a propensity for every species of drollery. After a variety of questions and conversation, the showman, who probably wanted to be rid of his monkey, proposed to Jack to purchase him for half a crown. Jack could not resist the temptation of being master of such a droll diverting animal, and therefore agreed to the bargain. But when he was left alone with his purchase, whom he led along by a chain, he soon began to repent his haste, and knew not how to dispose of him. As there was however, no remedy, Jack brought him carefully home, and confined him safe in an out-house, which was not applied to any use. In this situation he kept him several days, without accident, and frequently visited him at his leisure hours, with apples, nuts, and such other presents as he could procure. Among the other tricks which the monkey had been taught to perform, he would rise upon his hind legs at the word of command, and bow with the greatest politeness to the company. Jack, who had found out these accomplishments in his friend, could not resist the impulse of making them subservient to his resentment. He, therefore, one day, procured some flour, with which he [...]wdered his monkey's head, fixed a large paper [...]g to his neck, put an old hat under his arm, [...] tied a large iron skewer to his side, instead of a sword; and thus accoutred led him about [Page] with infinite satisfaction, calling him Monsieur, and jabbering such broken French as he had picked up from the conversation of the visitor. It happened very unluckily at this very instant, that the young gentleman himself passed by, and instantly saw at one glance the intended copy of himself, and all the malice of little Jack; who was leading him along, and calling

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to him to hold up his head and look like a person of fashion. Rage instantly took possession of his mind, and drawing his sword, which he happened to have on, he ran the poor monkey through with a sudden thrust, and laid him dead upon the ground. What more he might have done is uncertain, for Jack, who was not of a temper to see calmly such an outrage committed upon an animal whom he consider [...] as his friend, flew upon him like a fury, a [...] wresting the sword out of his hand, broke [...] [Page] into twenty pieces. The young gentleman himself received a fall in the scuffle, which, though it did him no material damage, daubed all his cloaths, and totally spoiled the whole

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arrangement of his dress. At this instant, the lady herself, who had heard the noise, came down, and the violence of poor Jack was too apparent to be excused. Jack, indeed, was submissive to his mistress, whom he was very sorry to have offended; but, when he was ordered to make concessions to the young gentleman, as the only conditions upon which he could be kept in the family, he absolutely refused. He owned, indeed, that he was much to blame for resenting the provocations he had received, and endeavouring to make his mistress's company ridiculous; but as to what he had done in defence of his friend the monkey, there were no possible arguments which could convince him [Page] he was in the least to blame; nor would he have made submissions to the king himself. This unfortunate obstinacy of Jack's was the occasion of his being discharged, very much to the regret of the lady herself, and still more to that of Master Willets▪ Jack therefore packed up his cloaths in a little bundle, shook all his fellow-servants by the hand, took an affectionate leave of his kind master, and once more sallied out upon his travels.

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He had not walked fa [...] before he came to a town, where a party of soldiers were beating up for volunteers. Jack mingled with the crowd that surrounded the recruiting serjeant, and listened with great pleasure to the sound of the fifes and drums; nor could he help mechanically holding up his head, and stepping forward with an air that showed the trade was [...] entirely new to him. The serjeant soon t [...] [Page] notice of these gestures, and seeing him a strong likely lad, came up to him, clapped him upon the back, and asked him if he would enlist? "You are a brave boy, said he, I can see it in

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your looks—come along with us, and I don't doubt in a few weeks, you'll be as complete a soldier as those who have been in the army for years." Jack made no answer to this, but by instantly poizing his stick, cocking his hat fiercely, and going through the whole manuel exercise.—"Prodigious, indeed, cried the serjeant, I see you have been in the army already, and can eat fire as well as any of us. But come with us, my brave lad, you shall live well, have little to do, but now and then fight for your king and country, as every gentleman ought; and in a short time, I don't doubt but I shall see you a captain, or some great man, rolling in wealth, which you have got out of [Page] the spoils of your enemies."—"No, said Jack, captain, that will never do—no tricks upon travellers—I know better what I have to expect if I enlist—I must lie hard, live hard, expose my life and limbs, every hour of the day, and be soundly cudgelled every now and then into the bargain."—"O'ons, cried the serjeant, where did the young dog pick up all this? He is enough to make a whole company desert."—"No, said Jack, they shall never desert through me; for though I know this, as I am at present out of employment, and have a great respect for the character of a gentleman soldier, I will enlist directly in your regiment." "A brave fellow, indeed, said the serjeant; here, my boy, here is your money and your cockade, both which he directly presented, for fear his recruit should change his mind; and thus in a moment little Jack became a soldier.

He had scarcely time to feel himself easy in his new accoutrements, before he was embarked for India in the character of a marine. This kind of life was entirely new to Jack; however, his usual activity and spirit of observation did not desert him here, and he had not been embarked many weeks, before he was perfectly acquainted with all the duty of a sailor, and in that respect equal to most on board. It happened that the ship in which he sailed, touched a [...] the Cormo Islands, in order to take in wood and water; these are some little islands near [...] coast of Africa, inhabited by blacks. Ja [...] often went on shore with the officers, attendi [...] them on their shooting parties to carry th [...] powder and shot, and the game they ki [...] [Page]

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All this country consists of very lofty hills, covered with trees and shrubs of various kinds, which never lose their leaves, from the perpetual warmth of the climate. Through these it is frequently difficult to force a way, and the hills themselves abound in precipices. It happened that one of the officers whom Jack was attending upon a shooting party, took aim at some great bird and brought it down; but as it fell into some deep valley, over some rocks which it was impossible to descend, they despaired of gaining their prey. Jack, immediately, with officious haste, set off and ran down the more level side of the hill, thinking to make a [...]t and reach the valley into which the bird [...] fallen. He set off, therefore, but as he [...] totally ignorant of the country, he, in a short time, buried himself so deep in the wood, which grew continually thicker, that he knew [Page] not which way to proceed. He then thought it most prudent to return; but this he found as difficult to effect as the other. He therefore wandered about the woods with inconceivable difficulty all day, but could never find his company nor even reach the shore, or obtain the prospect of the sea. At length the night approached, and Jack, who perceived it to be impossible to do that in the dark, which he had not been able to effect in the light, lay down under a rock, and composed himself to rest, as well as he was able. The next day he rose with the light, and once more attempted to regain the shore: but unfortunately he had totally lost all idea of the direction he ought to pursue, and saw nothing around him but the dismal prospect of woods and hills and precipices, without a guide or path. Jack now began to be very hungry, but as he had a fowling piece with him, and powder and shot, he soon

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[Page] procured himself a dinner; and kindling a fire with some dry leaves and sticks, he roasted his game upon the embers, and dined as comfortably as he could be expected to do in so forlorn a situation. Finding himself much refreshed, he pursued his journey, but with as little success as ever. On the third day, he indeed came in sight of the sea, but found that he was quite on a different side of the island from that where he left the ship, and that neither ship nor boat was to be seen. Jack now lost all hopes of rejoining his comrades, for he knew the ship was to sail at farthest upon the third day, and would not wait for him. He, therefore, sat down very pensively upon a rock, and cast his eyes upon the vast extent of ocean which was stretched out before him. He found himself now abandoned upon a strange country, without a single friend, acquaintance, or even any one who spoke the same language. He at first thought of seeking out the natives, and making known to them his deplorable state; but he began to fear the reception he might meet with among them. They might not be pleased, he thought▪ with his company, and might take the liberty of treating him as the white men generally treat the blacks when they get them into their possession; that is, make him work hard with very little victuals, and knock him on the head if he attempted to run away. And therefore, says Jack, as he was meditating all alone, it may, perhaps, be better for me to stay quiet where [...] am. It is true, indeed, I shall not have [...] company to talk to, but then I shall [Page] have nobody to quarrel with me, or baa, or laugh at my poor daddy and mammy. Neither do I at present see how I shall get a livelihood, when my powder and shot are all expended; but however I shall hardly be starved, for I saw several kinds of fruit in the woods, and some roots which look very much like carrots. As to cloaths▪ when mine wear out, I shall not much want new ones; for the weather is charmingly warm; and therefore, all things considered, I don't see why I should not be as happy here as in any other place.—When Jack had finished his speech, he set himself to find a lodging for the night. He had not examined far before he found a dry cavern in a rock, which he thought would prove a very comfortable residence; he therefore went to work with an hatchet he had with him, and cut some boughs of trees, which he spread upon the floor, and over those a long silky kind of grass, which he found in plenty near the place, to make himself a bed. His next care was, how to secure himself in case of any attack, for he did not know whether the island contained any wild beasts or not. He therefore cut down several branches of trees, and wove them into a kind of wicker work, as he had seen the men do hurdles when he lived with the farmer; with this contrivance he found he could very securely barricade the entrance of his cave. And now▪ as the evening was again approaching, he began to feel himself hungry, and seeking along t [...] sea-shore, he found some shell-fish, which su [...] plied him with a plentiful meal. The ne [...] day Jack arose, a little melancholy indeed, [...] [Page] with a resolution to struggle manfully with the difficulties of his situation. He walked into the woods and saw several kinds of fruit and berries, some of which he ventured to eat, as the birds had pecked them, and found the taste agreeable. He also dug up several species of roots, but feared to taste them lest they should be poisonous. At length, he selected one that very much resembled a potatoe, and determined to roast it in the embers, and taste a very small bit. It can hardly, thought Jack, do me much hurt, in so very small a quantity; and if that agrees with me I will increase the dose. The root was fortunately extremely wholesome and nutritive, so that Jack was in a very short time tolerably secure against the danger of wanting food. In this manner did Jack lead a kind of savage, but tolerably contented life, for several months; during which time he enjoyed perfect health, and was never discovered by any of the natives. He used several times a-day to visit the shore, in hopes that some ship might pass that way and deliver him from his solitary imprisonment. This, at length, happened, by the boat of an English ship, that was sailing to India, happening to touch upon the coast; Jack instantly hailed the crew, and the officer, upon hearing the story, agreed to receive him; the captain too, when he found that Jack was by no means a contemptible sailor, very willingly gave him his passage, and promised him a gratuity besides, if he behaved well.

Jack arrived in India without any accident, and relating his story, was permitted to serve [Page]

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in another regiment as his own was no longer there. He soon distinguished himself by his courage and good behaviour on several occasions, and before long was advanced to the rank of a serjeant. In this capacity, he was ordered out upon an expedition into the remote parts of the country. The little army in which he served now marched on for several weeks, through a burning climate, and in want of all the necessaries of life. At length, they entered upon some extensive plains, which bordered upon the celebrated country of the Tartars. Jack was perfectly well acquainted with the history of this people, and their method of fighting. He knew them to be some of the best horsemen in the world; indefatigable in their attacks, though often repulsed returning to the charge, and not to be invaded with impunity; he, therefore, took the liberty of observing [Page] to some of the officers, that nothing could be more dangerous than their rashly engaging themselves in those extensive plains, where they were every moment exposed to the attacks of cavalry, without any successful method

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of defence, or place of retreat, in case of any misfortune. These remonstrances were not much attended to, and after a few hours farther march, they were alarmed by the approach of a considerable body of Tartar horsemen. They, however, drew up with all the order they were able, and firing several successive vollies, endeavoured to keep the enemy at a distance. But the Tartars had no design of doing that with a considerable loss, which they were sure of doing with ease and safety. Instead therefore of charging the Europeans, they contented themselves with giving continual alarms, and menacing them on every side, without [Page] exposing themselves to any considerable danger. The army now attempted to retreat, hoping that they should be able to arrive at the neighbouring mountains, where they would be safe from the incursions of the horse. But in this attempt they were equally disappointed; for another considerable body of enemies appeared on that side, and blocked their passage. The Europeans now found they were surrounded on all sides, and that resistance was vain. The commanding officer, therefore, judged it expedient to try what could be effected by negociation, and sent one of his officers, who understood something of the Tartar language, to treat with the general of the enemies. The Tartar chief received the Europeans with great civility, and after having gently reproached them with their ambition, in coming so far to invade a people who had never injured them, he consented upon very moderate conditions to their enlargement: but he insisted upon having their arms delivered up, except a very few which he permitted them to keep for defence in their return, and upon retaining a certain number of Europeans as hostages for the performance of the stipulated articles. Among those who were thus left with the Tartars, Jack happened to be included, and while all the rest seemed inconsolable at being thus made prisoners by a barbarous nation, he alone, accustomed to all the vicissitudes of life, retained his cheerfulness, and prepared to meet every reverse of fortune with his usual firmness.

The Tartars, among whom Jack was now to reside, constitute several different tribes or [Page] nations which inhabit an immense extent of country both in Europe and Asia. Their country is in general open and uncultivated, with out cities or towns, such as we see in England. The inhabitants themselves are a bold and hardy race of men that live in small tents, and change their place of abode with the different seasons of the year. All their property consists in herds of cattle, which they drive along with them from place to place; and upon whose milk and flesh they subsist. They are particularly fond of horses, of which they have a small but excellent breed, hardy and indefatigable for the purposes of war, and they excel in the management of them, beyond what is easy to conceive. Immense herds of these animals wander loose about the deserts, but marked with the particular mark of the person or tribe to which they belong. When they want any of these animals for use, a certain number of their young men jump upon their horses with nothing but an halter to guide them, each carrying in his hand a pole with a noose or cord at the end. When they come in sight of the herd, they pursue the horse they wish to take at full speed, come up with him in spite of his swiftness, and never fail to throw the noose about his neck as he runs. They are frequently known to jump upon young horses that have passed their whole life in the desert, and with [...]nly a girt around the animal's body to hold [...], maintain their seat, in spite of all his vio [...]ent exertions, until they have wearied him [...]ut and reduced him into perfect obedience. [...]uch was the nation with whom the lot of Jack [Page] was now to reside, nor was he long before he had an opportunity of showing his talents.

It happened that a favourite horse of the chief was taken with a violent fever, and seemed to be in immediate danger of death. The khan, for so he is called among the Tartars, seeing his horse grow hourly worse, at length applied to the Europeans, to know if they could suggest any thing for his recovery. All the officers were profoundly ignorant of farriery; but when the application was made to Jack, he desired to see the horse, and with great gravity began to feel his pulse, by passing his hand within the animal's fore-leg; which gave the Tartars a very high idea of his ingenuity. Finding that the animal was in a high fever, he proposed to the khan to let him blood, which he had learned to do very dexterously in England. He obtained permission to do as he pleased, and having by great good luck a lancet

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[Page] with him, he let him blood very dexterously in the neck. After this operation he covered him up, and gave him a warm potion made out of such ingredients as he could procure upon the spot, and left him quiet. In a few hours the horse began to mend, and, to the great joy of the khan, perfectly recovered in a few days. This cure, so opportunely performed, raised the reputation of Jack so high, that every body came to consult him about their horses, and in a short time he was the universal farrier of the tribe. The khan himself conceived so great an affection for him, that he gave him an excellent horse to ride upon and attend him in his hunting parties; and Jack, who excelled in the art of horsemanship, managed him so well as to gain the esteem of the whole nation.

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[Page]The Tartars, though they are excellent horsemen, have no idea of managing their horses, unless by violence; but Jack in a short time, by continual care and attention, made his horse so docile and obedient to every motion of his hand and leg, that the Tartars themselves would gaze upon him with admiration, and allow themselves to be out-done. Not contented with this, he procured some iron, and made his horse-shoes in the European taste; this also was matter of astonishment to all the Tartars, who are accustomed to ride their horses unshod. He next observed that the Tartar saddles are all prodigiously large and cumbersome, raising the horsemen up to a great distance from the back of his horse. Jack set himself to work, and was not long before he had completed something like an English hunting saddle, on which he paraded before the khan. All mankind seem to have a passion for novelty, and the khan was so delighted with this effort of Jack's ingenuity, that, after paying him the highest compliments, he intimated a desire of having such a saddle for himself. Jack was the most obliging creature in the world, and spared no labour to serve his friends; he went to work again, and in a short time completed a saddle still more elegant for the khan. These exertions gained him the favour and esteem both of the khan and all the tribe; s [...] that Jack was an universal favourite and loaded with presents, while all the rest of the officers, who had never learned to make a saddle or an horse-shoe, were treated with contempt and indifference. Jack, indeed, behaved with th [...] [Page] greatest generosity to his countrymen, and divided with them all the mutton and venison which were given him; but he could not help sometimes observing, that it was great pity they had not learned to make an horse-shoe instead of dancing and dressing hair.

And now an ambassador arrived from the English settlements, with an account that all the conditions of the treaty had been performed, and demanding the restitution of the prisoners. The Tartar chief was too much a man of honour to delay an instant, and they were all restored; but before they set out, Jack laboured with indefatigable zeal to finish a couple of saddles and a dozen horse-shoes, which he presented to the khan, with many expressions of gratitude. The khan was charmed with this proof of his affection, and in return made him a present of a couple of fine horses, and several valuable skins of beasts. Jack arrived without any accident at the English settlements, and selling his skins and horses, found himself in possession of a moderate sum of money. He now began to have a desire to return to England, and one of the officers, who had often been obliged to him during his captivity, procured him a discharge. He embarked, therefore, with all his property, on board a ship, which was returning home, and in a few months was safely landed at Plymouth.

But Jack was too active and too prudent to give himself up to idleness. After considering various schemes of business, he determined to take up his old trade of forging; and for that purpose made a journey into the North, and [Page]

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found his old master alive, and as active as ever. His master, who had always entertained an esteem for Jack, welcomed him with great affection, and being in want of a foreman, he engaged him at a very handsome price, for that place. Jack was now indefatigable in the execution of his new office; inflexibly honest where the interests of his master were concerned, and at the same time humane and obliging to the men who were under him, he gained the affection of all about him. In a few years, his master was so thoroughly convinced of his merit, that growing old himself, he took Jack into partnership, and committed the management of the whole business to his ca [...]. He continued to exert the same qualities now which he had done before, by which means h [...] improved the business so much, as to gain [...] considerable fortune, and become one of [...] [Page] most respectable manufacturers in the country. —But, with all this prosperity, he never discovered the least pride or haughtiness; on the contrary, he employed part of his fortune to purchase the moor where he formerly lived, and built himself a small but convenient house, upon the very spot where his daddy's hut had formerly stood. Hither he would sometimes retire from business, and cultivate his garden with his own hands, for he hated idleness.

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To all his poor neighbours he was kind and [...]iberal, relieving them in their distress, and [...]en entertaining them at his house, where he [...] to dine with them, with the greatest affability, [Page] and frequently relate his own story; in order to prove that it is of very little consequence how a man comes into the world, provided he behaves well, and discharges his duty when he is in it.

THE LITTLE QUEEN.

THERE reigned once upon a time, in a distant island, a good prince who was passionately beloved by all his subjects. It could not happen otherwise, for he was their common father. He provided for all their reasonable wants, he rewarded those who deserved well of their country, and he let none of the wicked, nor even of the idle, escape without punishment. This amiable monarch had but one cause of anxiety; Myra, his only child, by no means requited the attention which had been given to her education. At twelve years of age she was shamefully ignorant. Her thoughtlessness made her forget every lesson which she had been taught, and her presumption kept pace with her want of knowledge; of cons [...] quence as she thought herself perfectly acco [...] plished, she despised all instruction. One d [...] [Page] she was indulging her absurd vanity by hinting, that were she to govern the island, things would be better managed than they were now. The King, having been informed of his daughter's sentiments, sent for her immediately. On her coming, he told her, without the least discomposure, ‘That as she was destined to reign, one day or other, over his kingdoms, he should wish to know how far her talents were proper for so important a charge.’ ‘We may, if you please,’ added this good prince, ‘make the experiment without any delay. Careless as you always were about the lessons which have been given you in geography, you cannot but know that The Fortunate Island makes a part of my dominions; it is a small, but well inhabited district; its people are active, industrious, good tempered, and thoroughly attached to their sovereigns. Go, child! reign over them, I shall order a yacht to be instantly fitted up to convey you to your capital.’ Then making a most profound reverence to the little sovereign, ‘Adieu, madam,’ said he, with difficulty concealing a smile.

Myra, for some time, thought that the king meant only to divert himself, but soon found her mistake, and that every thing was preparing for her voyage. She was even permitted to form a court to her mind, and accordingly she [...]icked out a dozen of her playfellows to ac [...]ompany her. "These young people," said [...]e to her father, "are so very rational and se [...] date, that there can be no need of their being [...] attended by governesses or tutors." The [Page] king, however, thought otherwise, and ordered the teachers to embark with their pupils. The young sovereign, on her part, took care there should be abundance of musicians for her balls, and that a company of players should be provided for the amusement of herself and her court. On the morn of her departure, she took an affectionate leave of her father, but the few tears which she shed, were soon dried up by the consideration of her being going to a place where she should do "just what she pleased." "The only advice that I shall give you," said the king at parting, ‘is, that you would follow the advice of Aristus (the governor of the island over which you are to reign) in every thing of importance. He is a man for whom I have a high esteem, and with reason, as he is discreet, honest, and humane. I could wish that you would make him your first minister; I mean, that you should consult him in every thing, and entrust him with the execution of all your orders.’

This direction no way suited the taste of our young Queen, who wished to have given that important charge to one of her favourites, Philintus, a tall, genteel lad, not indeed many years older than herself, but one who, to tolerable skill in dancing and singing, added the very agreeable talent of elegant flattery. He was himself as averse to study, and of consequence as ignorant as his royal mistress; but he had knowledge enough of his own interest to excite him never to omit assuring her that every one looked on her as a model of a perfect princess, although he was cons [...]ious that, [Page] out of her hearing, she was universally blamed for being so totally unlike her excellent father, and for spending her whole time in trifling amusements.

As soon as the little sovereign reached her island, she beheld with pleasure troops of shepherds and shepherdesses, in elegant fancy dresses of rose colour and white, who sung carols in praise of their new Queen, strewed sweet scented flowers in her path, and presented her with odoriferous nosegays. Myra, charmed with this specimen of her subjects gallantry, ordered money to be distributed amongst them; and, under the conduct of Aristus, repaired to a lovely, though small palace, fitted up for her reception. Fatigued with the voyage, the Queen and her young court hastened to their repose; but her Majesty forgot not to order, for the next day, a comedy to be acted, followed by a ball and a splendid entertainment. On the next morn, Myra and her court amused themselves by walking into the capital town, which lay not far from the palace. "Observe," said Aristus to his sovereign, ‘the air of content which reigns in every face we meet.’ "That," said Philintus, ‘we should attribute to the presence of our lovely Queen.’ "Without doubt," replied Aristus, ‘they are sensible of that honour; but I ought to inform you, that their gaiety is chiefly owing to their being conscious of the excellent government under which they live, and of the wisdom of those laws by which their King, whom they look upon as their father, governs the country.’ "Let us now," said [Page] Myra, "extend our walks into the country." They did so. An orchard, in full bloom, now tempted her to take a nearer view of its beauty, "What," said she to Aristus, ‘occasions the buzzing sounds which I hear?’ "The bees," replied he; ‘a useful tribe of your Majesty's subjects.’ At that instant, most unfortunately, one of these animals, not perfectly acquainted with the respect due to royalty, and disgusted at the Queen's approaching too near to his hive, settled on her hand, and made her feel his sting!— ‘Shocking creatures, these bees!’ exclaimed Myra; ‘one of them has half killed me!’ ‘The presumptuous, ungrateful wretches ought,’ said Philintus, "to be utterly extirpated." "You are right," said the Queen; ‘I will have them destroyed, not on my own account, but to preserve my poor people from receiving such cruel wounds, when they are pursuing their occupations in the country.’ "Permit me," said Aristus, ‘to observe, that these accidents happen but very seldom, and that the pain which the bees occasion by their stings, is trifling, when compared with the vast advantage which accrues from their labours; your subjects, madam, will suffer severely indeed, if they are deprived of that useful creature.’ —Here he was interrupted by Philintus, who bursting with laughter, cried out, ‘A pretty tale you tell us, Aristus! why sure you take us al [...] for children! Suffer indeed! what! because that nasty insect is kept from stinging them▪ Make us believe that, if you can.’ ‘I wil [...] have every bee in my kingdom put to death,’ [Page] said the young Queen with an air of dignity. "Possibly," said Aristus, ‘your Majesty may see cause hereafter to repent of this hasty command.’ "Nevertheless," repeated Myra, "it shall be executed." Aristus retired with a sigh, and Philintus loudly applauded the mingled humanity and firmness of his infant sovereign. That evening the Queen entertained herself at the play, and afterwards was present at a ball, which, with a magnificent supper, lasted until two o'clock in the morning.

Unluckily among the ladies of the bed chamber were two, who, not having reached their eleventh year, had been used to eat little or no suppers, to take moderate exercise, and to go to bed early. But the royal banquet had been so tempting, the ball so charming, and the whole so perfectly new to them, that they had despised the admonitions of their governesses, who had very naturally remonstrated against their launching at once into this new system. In consequence, they were both extremely ill the next morning. The physician attended, and ordered proper medicines, which they refused to take. ‘They were permitted by the Queen,’ they said, ‘to do what they liked best, and they hated nasty physic.’ Their complaints, however, increased; they could neither eat, drink, or sleep, and one of the two felt the attack of a fever. On this the governesses were obliged to have recourse to the royal authority, and the Queen having commanded the young ladies to submit to discipline, they took what was ordered and all went right again.

[Page]One day that the young Queen was walking in the garden of her palace, she was disgusted at the devastation which had been made by caterpillars on the leaves of the trees. ‘What vile creatures are these!’ said she to Philintus: ‘Did you ever see such a piece of work as they have made here?’ "I think," replied the courtier, ‘that it would be a good deed to root them out of the island, and to proclaim rewards for those who would undertake to destroy them.’ ‘What say you to that, Aristus,’ said Myra, ‘can my subjects exist without caterpillars?’ ‘Your Majesty,’ replied Aristus, ‘has not forgot the bees, I find, but here the case is widely different. The caterpillars which have stript those trees do much mischief, and are of no one use to society.’ "I am heartily glad," said the Queen, ‘that we coincide in opinion, for I am determined to have all the caterpillars in my dominions destroyed; I hate them, nasty creatures!’ "Your Majesty" said Aristus, ‘certainly means to except from this general massacre, that kind of caterpillar which produces the silk-worm.’ ‘Do but hear him,’ said Philintus, in the Queen's ear; ‘that fellow makes a point of contradicting your Majesty in every thing.’ ‘Let every caterpillar in my realm be put to death,’ exclaimed the piqued sovereign.

"I am tired to death," said Myra, one day, ‘of this eternal verdure. These walks of turf, and these clumps of laurel, though I like them well enough on the whole, yet being repeated so often, they fatigue my eyes;— [Page] green, and green, and nothing but green— Why can I not have a rose-colour bower?’ Philintus now turned all his thoughts towards the accomplishment of his sovereign's rational wish. He had observed in a distant part of the garden an arbour where a honey suckle overspread the green frame work. He ordered the leaves to be stripped off, the wood to be painted rose colour, and he covered the whole with artificial roses hanging by crimson ribbands. The Queen was enchanted with this gaudy retreat, and as soon as she saw it, ordered her dinner to be set out upon that very spot. The sun shone out with great power, and scarce had the company sate ten minutes at their meal, before some complained of aching heads, some of dazzled eyes; all lost their appetites, and the whole was a confusion of heat and glare. Aristus advised the whole party to abandon the flaring scene, and to refresh their eyes by gazing on the turf in some shady place. They did so, and all went well again. In consequence, it was settled by her Majesty in council, that, during the summer, it were better for the leaves of the trees to be green, than to be rose colour.

Myra was so enchanted with the pleasures of her palace, that she gave herself little trouble as to what passed in the island at large. Her whole time was employed in schemes for increasing and varying her amusements: sometimes, indeed, she walked into the country: but her presence no longer appeared to give any pleasure to her subjects—there were no more songs in her praise—no more cries of [Page] "Long live our Queen!" "What," said Myra, ‘can occasion this strange alteration in the behaviour of my people? Are they displeased with any part of my government?’ "If," said Philintus, ‘they are out of humour with such an amiable sovereign, they do not deserve the honour of her inquiries.’ This answer was not entirely satisfactory to the Queen; she was even for some time, buried in thought; but the efforts of Philintus, (who had observed the gloom on her countenance,) and the gay turn of his conversation, together with the novelty of an entertainment which he proposed for the next evening, drove away all serious thoughts, and sprightliness resumed its reign again. The plan was, that all the court should appear in pastoral dresses, and that the company should dance on one of those elegant lawns with which the palace garden abounded. Myra approved of this plan, only desiring that the habits might be as elegant as the plan would allow. ‘They can only be made of linen, madam,’ said one of the bedchamber-women. "How so,?" said the Queen.

‘There is not, in your Majesty's dominions, silk enough for one dress.’

‘You must be mistaken. On my taking the government into my hands, I observed shops without end, well furnished with silk.’

‘It is true, Madam, there were such; but they are now all shut up, and the owner [...] have left the island.’

"And why so, pray?"

‘Since your Majesty's orders for the destruction [Page] of all caterpillars, the silk manufacture is entirely stopped.’

‘Aye! why, what have those nasty vermin to do with the manufacture of silk?’

‘There is one species of those caterpillars which produces the materials, without which silk cannot be made; and as the sellers of silk in the towns are in general connected, by marriage or relationship, with the breeders of the silk-worms, they have determined all together to quit a country where they are deprived of the means of subsisting.’

That very evening the Queen observed with a surprise, which almost equalled horror, that the apartments of the palace were lighted with tallow candles. "Heavens!" exclaimed the affronted Sovereign, ‘what means this filthy sight?’ She was told that there were no waxen tapers to be found in the isle. "'Tis impossible!" she cried; "let Aristus be sent for." He appeared. ‘Have you not told me, Sir, that my island abounded with wax?’ ‘Madam, it did so, when I gave you that information.’ ‘And how happens it that it is not so now?’ ‘Because since your Majesty ordered the bees to be extirpated, no more wax is to be found.’ Philintus sneered at this reply, and Myra asked with astonishment, ‘What was the connexion between bees and tapers?’ "Without them," said Aristus, ‘the tapers can not exist, since the bees supply the materials of which the tapers are composed.’ ‘And what is become of those who used to get their living by making those tapers?’ "Poor souls!" replied Aristus, ‘[Page]they are on the point of quitting a place, where they cannot earn their bread. Alas!’ added he, ‘were your Majesty to make, at this time, the tour of your dominions, you would find the face of the whole country deplorably altered.’ Philintus would have turned this account into ridicule, but Myra, by a look, stopped his buffoonery, and retired to her chamber with a heavy heart.

The next morning she took Aristus with her, and drove into the environs of her capital. "You were too much in the right," she said, ‘when you bade me expect a deplorable alteration among my people. I hear no more acclamations! no more songs! but I see the painfullest of sights; crowds of people in rags, begging their bread,’ "Formerly," said Aristus, ‘no beggars were to be found here; there was a large building erected for the poor, where the old were maintained, the sick cured, and all the young folks set to work; but since your Majesty has allowed twelve to be the age of discretion, many of these children have refused to be employed, and choosing to wander about the country, without knowing how to g [...] [...]eir bread, they are of course reduced to rags and misery.’

The Queen, having given some relief to these wretched objects, proceeded to ask Aristus, what was become of the crowds of busy people who were used to throng in the streets of the capital? "for," said she, ‘half the houses seem to be shut up, and the whole town appears deserted, in comparison of its sta [...] when I first saw it.’ The minister told her▪ ‘[Page]that there was a mutual dependence of one trade upon another, and that, in consequence of the departure of the silk and wax merchants and manufacturers, those who were used to supply that large body of men with cloaths, shoes and stockings, provisions, and every other accommodation, having now no market for their goods, had shut up their shops, and were preparing, one and all, for their departure.’ He added, ‘that it was much to be feared, that the farmers, who used to bring to the town corn, hay, butter, eggs, poultry, &c. together with their families, labourers, &c. would soon follow this example.’

Struck with this painful detail, the young Queen, whose goodness of heart was equal to the thoughtlessness of her head, exclaimed in an agony of distress, ‘Oh heavens! why did I leave my father's court? why take upon me a task of which I was so incapable? I suffer severely for my presumption, but at least I will do no more mischief here.’ Then turning to Aristus, she begged him to hasten the preparations for her return to the kingdom of her father. Her orders were instantly obeyed, and she with her whole court, took leave of the Fortunate Island, and soon reached the port they wished for. As soon as Myra saw the King, she threw herself at his feet, bathed in tears. "How is this," said he, ‘my daughter, are you returned already? are you so soon weary of sovereign power?’ "Alas! Sire!" replied the weeping Myra, ‘never was any being more wretched than your [Page] daughter! I have childishly thrown away my own happiness, and that of those whom you entrusted to my care. The island which I have governed, no longer deserves the name of Fortunate. I have, by my own mismanagement, reduced an industrious people to beggary and ruin! but I conjure you, Sire, to order all my jewels to be instantly sold, that I may, by their means, in some sort relieve the miseries which my infantine folly has brought upon them.’ ‘Make yourself easy,’ said the good King, soothing his afflicted daughter, ‘the mischiefs which your want of consideration has caused, are by no means irreparable. I foresaw that you would make great mistakes in government, and managed affairs so as to prevent those mistakes from having any very bad consequences. Those of your subjects, who have by your errors been forced to quit your isle, have, by the direction of Aristus, found a comfortable retreat in this kingdom, have been supplied with all necessaries, and will now return to their own country, with proper materials, to re-assume their several trades and occupations. You have, my beloved Myra, an excellent heart, and in all the mischief which you have done, you have had the best intention in the world. This ought to teach you, that princes ought not to trust to their good dispositions alone, but that they should take counsel with the most intelligent of their subjects, concerning the measures of their government, and above all, that they should guard against forming too high an opinion of [Page] their own wisdom. The errors of private persons can only affect a small number of individuals, but those of sovereigns may ruin nations.’

Myra profited by this lesson, [...]d by her own experience. She dedicated, for the future, a considerable part of her time to study, and forbade Philantus ever to appear in her presence again.

The NATURAL HISTORY of the BEE.

TO give a complete history of this insect in a few pages, which some have exhausted volumes in describing, and whose nature and properties still continue in dispute, is impossible. It will be sufficient to give a general idea of the animal's operations; which, though they have been studied for more than two thousand years, are still but incompletely known. The account given us by Reaumur is sufficiently minute; and, if true, sufficiently wonderful: but I find many of the facts which he relates, doubted by those who are most conversant with bees; and some of them actually declared not to have a real existence in nature.

It is unhappy, therefore, for those whose method demands an history of bees, that they are unfurnished with those materials which have [Page] induced so many observers to contradict so great a naturalist. His life was spent in the contemplation; and it requires an equal share of attention to prove the error of his discoveries. Witho [...] entering, therefore, into the dispute, I will take him for my guide; and just mention, as I go along, those particulars in which succeeding observers have begun to think him erroneous. Which of the two are right, time only can discover; for my part I have only heard one side, for as yet none have been so bold as openly to oppose Reaumur's delightful researches.

There are three different kinds of bees in every hive. First, the labouring bees, which make up the far greatest number, and are thought to be neither male or female, but merely born for the purposes of labour, and continuing the breed, by supplying the young with provision, while yet in their helpless state. The second sort are the d [...]ones; they are of a darker colour, longer, and more thick by one third than the former: they are supposed to be the males; and there is not above a hundred of them, in a hive of seven or eight thousand bees. The third sort is much larger than either of the former, and still fewer in number: some assert, that there is not above one in every swarm; but this later observers affirm not to be true, there being sometimes five or six in the same hive. These are called queen-bees, and are said to lay all the eggs from which the whole swarm is hatched in a season.

In examining the structure of the common working bee, the first remarkable part that offers [Page] is the trunk, which serves to extract the honey from flowers. It is not formed, like that of the other flies, in the manner of a tube, by which the fluid is to be sucked up; but like a a besom, to sweep, or a tongue, to lick it away. The animal is furnished also with teeth. which serve it in making wax. This substance is gathered from flowers, like honey; it consists of that dust or farina which contributes to the fecundation of plants, and is moulded into wax by the little animal, at le [...]sure. Every bee, when it leaves the hive to collect this precious store, enters into the cup of the flower, particularly such as seem charged with the greatest quantities of this yellow farina. As the animal's body is covered over with hair, it rolls itself within the flower, and soon becomes quite covered with the dust, which it soon after brushes off with its own hind legs, and kneads into two little balls. In the thighs of the hind legs there are to cavities, edged with hair; and into these, as into a basket, the animal sticks its pellets. Thus employed, the bee flies from flower to flower, encreasing its store, and adding to its stock of wax; until the ball, upon each thigh, becomes as big as a grain of pepper: by this time, having got a sufficient load, it returns, the best of its way to the hive.

The belly of the bee is divided into six rings, which sometimes shorten the body, by slipping one over the other. It contains within it, beside the intestines, the honey-bag, the venom-bag, and the sting. The honey-bag is as transparent as crystal, containing the honey that [Page] the bee has brushed from the flowers; of which the greater part is carried to the hive, and poured into the cells of the honey-comb; while the remainder serves for the bee's own nourishment: for, during summer, it never touches what has been laid up for the winter. The sting, which serves to defend this little animal from its enemies, is composed of three parts; the sheath, and two darts, which are extremely small and penetrating. Both the darts have several small points or barbs, like those of a fish-hook, which render the sting more painful, and make the darts rankle in the wound. Still, however, this instrument would be very slight, did not the bee poison the wound. The sheath, which has a sharp point, makes the first impression; which is followed by that of the darts, and then the venemous liquor is poured in. The sheath sometimes sticks so fast in the wound, that the animal is obliged to leave it behind; by which the bee soon after dies, and the wound is considerably enflamed. It might at first appear well for mankind, if the bee were without its sting: but, upon recollection, it will be found, that the little animal would then have too many rivals in sharing its labours. An hundred other lazy animals, fond of honey, and hating labour, would intrude upon the sweets of the hive; and the treasure would be carried off, for want of armed guardians to protect it.

From examining the bee singly, we now come to consider it in society, as an animal not only subject to laws, but active, vigilant, laborious, and disinterested. All its provisions [Page] are laid up for the community; and all its arts in building a cell, designed for the benefit of posterity. The substance with which bees build their cells is wax: which is fashioned into convenient apartments for themselves and their young. When they begin to work in their hives, they divide themselves into four companies: one of which roves in the fields in search of materials; another employs itself in laying out the bottom and partitions of their cells; a third is employed in making the inside smooth from the corners and angles; and the fourth company bring food for the rest, or relieve those who return with their respective burthens. But they are not kept constant to one employment; they often change the tasks assigned them: those that have been at work, being permitted to go abroad; and those that have been in the fields already, take their places. They seem even to have signs, by which they understand each other; for when any of them want food, it bends down its trunk to the bee from whom it is expected, which then opens its honey-bag, and lets some drops fall into the other's mouth, which is at that time opened to receive it. Their diligence and labour is so great, that, in a day's time, they are able to make cells, which lie upon each other, numerous enough to contain three thousand bees.

If we examine their cells, they will be found formed in the exactest proportion. It was said by Pappus, an ancient geometrician, that, of all other figures, hexagons were the most convenient; [Page] for, when placed touching each other the most convenient room would be given, and the smallest lost. The cells of the bees are perfect hexagons: these, in every honey-comb, are double, opening on either side, and closed at the bottom. The bottoms are composed of little triangular panes, which, when united together, terminate in a point, and lie exactly upon the extremities of other panes of the same shape, in opposite cells. These lodgings have spaces, like streets, between them, large enough to give the bees a free passage in and out; and yet narrow enough to preserve the necessary heat. The mouth of every cell is defended by a border, which makes the door a little less than the inside of the cell, which serves to strengthen the whole. These cells serve for different purposes: for laying up their young; for their wax, which in winter becomes a part of their food; and for their honey, which makes their principal subsistence.

It is well known that the habitation of bees ought to be very close; and what their hives want, from the negligence and unskilfulness of man, these animals supply by their own industry: so that it is their principal care, when first hived, to stop up all the crannies. For this purpose they make use of a resinous gum, which is more tenacious than wax, and differs greatly from it. This the ancients called Propolis: it will grow considerably hard in June; though it will in some measure soften by heat; and is often found different in consistence, colour and smell. It has generally an agreeable aromatic odour when it is warmed; and by [Page] some it is considered as a most grateful perfume. When the bees begin to work with it, it is soft, but it acquires a firmer consistence every day; till at length it assumes a brown colour, and becomes much harder than wax. The bees carry it on their hinder legs; and some think it is met with on the birch, the willow, and poplar. However it is procured, it is certain that they plaister the inside of their hives with this composition.

If examined through a glass hive, from the hurry the whole swarm is in, the whole at first appears like anarchy and confusion; but the spectator soon finds every animal diligently employed, and following one pursuit, with a settled purpose. Their teeth are the instruments by which they model and fashion their various buildings, and give them such symmetry and perfection. They begin at the top of the hive; and several of them work at a time, at the cells which have two faces. If they are stinted with regard to time, they give the new cells but half the depth which they ought to have; leaving them imperfect, till they have sketched out the number of cells necessary for the present occasion. The construction of their combs, costs them a great deal of labour: they are made by insensible additions; and not cast at once in a mold, as some are apt to imagine. There seems no end of their shaping, finishing, and turning them neatly up. The cells for their young are most carefully formed; those designed for lodging the drones, are larger than the rest; and that for the queen-bee, the largest of all. The cells in which the young [Page] brood are lodged, serve at different times for containing honey; and this proceeds from an obvious cause: every worm, before it is transformed into an aurelia, hangs its old skin on the partitions of its cell; and thus, while it strengthens the wall, diminishes the capacity of its late apartment. The same cell, in a single summer, is often tenanted by three or four worms in succession; and the next season, by three or four more. Each worm takes particular care to fortify the pannels of its cell, by hanging up its spoils there: thus, the partitions being lined, six or eight deep, become at last too narrow for a new brood, and are converted into store-houses, for honey.

Those cells where nothing but honey is deposited, are much deeper than the rest. When the harvest of honey is so plentiful that they have not sufficient room for it, they either lengthen their combs, or build more; which are much longer than the former. Sometimes they work at three combs at a time; sor, when there are three work-houses, more bees may be thus employed, without embarrassment.

But honey, as was before observed, is not the only food upon which these animals subsist. The meal of flowers, of which their wax is formed, is one of their most favourite repasts. This is a diet which they live upon during the summer; and of which they lay up a large winter provision. The wax of which their comb [...] are made, is no more than this meal digested, and wrought into a paste. When the flowers upon which bees generally feed, are not fully blown, and this meal or dust is not offered in [Page] sufficient quantities, the bees pinch the tops of the stamina in which it is contained, with their teeth; and thus anticipate the progress of vegetation. In April and May, the bees are busy, from morning to evening, in gathering this meal; but when the weather becomes too hot in the midst of summer, they work only in the morning.

The bee is furnished with a stomach for its wax, as well as its honey. In the former of the two, their powder is altered, digested and concocted into real wax; and is thus ejected by the same passage by which it was swallowed. Every comb, newly made, is white: but it becomes yellow as it grows old, and almost black when kept too long in the hive. Beside the wax thus digested, there is a large portion of the powder kneaded up for food in every hive, and kept in separate cells, for winter provision. This is called, by the country people, bee-bread; and contributes to the health and strength of the animal during winter. Those who rear bees, may [...]ob them of their honey, and feed them, during the winter, with treacle; but no proper substitute has yet been found for the bee-bread; and, without it, the animals become consumptive and die.

As for the honey, it is extracted from that part of the flower called the nectareum. From the mouth this delicious sluid passes into the gullet: and then into the first stomach, or honey-bag, which, when filled, appears like an oblong bladder. Children, that live in country places, are well acquainted with this bladder; and destroy many bees to come at their [Page] store of honey. When a bee has sufficiently filled its first stomach, it returns back to the hive, where it disgorges the honey into one of the cells. It often happens that the bee delivers its store to some other, at the mouth of the hive, and flies off for a fresh supply. Some honey-combs are always left open for common use; but many others are stopped up, till there is a necessity of opening them. Each of these are covered carefully with wax; so close, that the covers seem to be made at the very instant the fluid is deposited within them.

Having thus given a curfory description of the insect, individually considered, and of the habitation it forms, we next come to its social habits and institutions: and, in considering this little animal attentively, after the necessary precautions for the immediate preservation of the community, its second care is turned to the continuance of posterity. How numerous soever the multitude of bees may appear in one swarm, yet they all owe their original to a single parent, which is called the queen-bee. It is indeed surprising that a single insect shall, in one summer, give birth to above twenty thousand young: but, upon opening her body, the wonder will cease; as the number of eggs appearing, at one time, amounts to five thousand. This animal, whose existence is of such importance to her subjects, may easily be distinguished from the rest, by her size, and the shape of her body. On her safety depends the whole welfare of the commonwealth; and the attentions paid her by all the rest of the swarm, evidently show the dependence her subjects have [Page] upon her security. If this insect be carefully observed, she will be seen at times attended with a numerous retinue, marching from cell to cell, plunging the extremity of her body into many of them, and leaving a small egg in each. When the queen-bee has deposited the number of eggs necessary in the cells, the working bees undertake the care of the rising posterity. They are seen to leave off their usual employments; to construct proper receptacles for eggs; or to complete those that are already formed. They purposely build little cells, extremely solid, for the young; in which they employ a great deal of wax: those designed for lodging the males, as was already observe [...] are larger than the rest; and those for the queen-bees the largest of all. There is usually but one egg deposited in every cell. A day or two after it is deposited, the worm is excluded from the shell of the egg, having the appearance of a maggot rolled up in a ring, and lying softly on a bed of a whitish coloured jelly; upon which also the little animal begins to feed. In the mean time, the instant it appears, the working bees attend it with the most anxious and parental tenderness; they furnish it every hour with a supply of this whitish substance, on which it feeds and lies; and watch the cell with unremitting care. They are nurses that have a greater affection for the offspring of others, than many parents have for their own children. They are constant in visiting each cell, and seeing that nothing is wanting; preparing the white mixture, which is nothing but a composition [Page] of honey and wax, in their own bowels, with which they feed them. Thus attended, and plentifully fed, the worm, in less than six days time, comes to its full growth, and no longer accepts the food offered it. When the bees perceive that it has no further occasion for feeding, they perform the last offices of tenderness, and shut the little animal up in its cell; walling up the mouth of its apartment with wax: there they leave the worm to itself; having secured it from every external injury.

The worm is no sooner left enclosed, but, from a state of inaction, it begins to labour, extending and shortening its body; and by this means lining th [...] walls of its apartment with a silken tapestry, which it spins in the manner of caterpillars, before they undergo their last transformation. When their cell is thus prepared, the animal is soon after transformed into an aurelia; but differing from that of the common caterpillar, as it exhibits not only the legs, but the wings of the future bee, in its present state of inactivity. Thus, in about twenty, or one and twenty days after the egg was laid, the bee is completely formed, and fitted to undergo the fatigues of its state. When all its parts have acquired their proper strength and consistence, the young animal opens its prison, by piercing with its teeth the waxen door that confines it. When just freed from its cell, it is as yet moist, and incommoded with the spoils of its former situation; but the officious bees are soon seen to flo [...] round it, and to lick it clean on all sides with their trunks; while another band, with equal assiduity, are [Page] observed to feed it with [...]ey: others again begin immediately to [...] the cell that has been just left; to carry the ordures out of the hive, and to fit the place for a new inhabitant. The young bee soon repays their care, by its industry; for as soon as ever its external parts become dry, it discovers its natural appetites for labour, and industriously begins the task, which it pursues unremittingly through life. The toil of man is irksome to him, and he earns his subsistence with pain; but this little animal seems happy in its pursuits, and finds delight in all its employments.

When bees first begin to break their prisons, there are generally above a hundred excluded in one day. Thus, in the space of a few weeks, the number of the inhabitants in one hive, of moderate size, becomes so great, that there is no place to contain the new comers; and they are scarcely excluded from the cell, when they are obliged, by the old bees, to sally forth in quest of new habitations. In other words, the hive begins to swarm, and the new progeny prepares for exile.

While there is room enough in the hive, the bees remain quietly together; it is necessity alone that compels the separation. Sometimes indeed, the young brood, with graceless obstinacy, refuse to depart, and even venture to resist their progenitors. The young ones are known by being browner than the old, with whiter hair; the old ones are of a lighter colour, with red hair. The two armies are therefore easily distinguishable, and dreadful battles are often seen to ensue. But the victory almost [Page] ever termina [...] with strict political justice, in favour of the v [...]terans, and the rebellious offspring are driven off, not without loss and mutilation.

In different countries, the swarms make their appearance at different times of the year, and there are several signs previous to this intended migration. The night before, an unusual buzing is heard in the hive; in the morning, though the weather be soft and inviting, they seem not to obey the call, being intent on more important meditations within. All labour is discontinued in the hive, every bee is either employed in forcing, or reluctantly yielding a submission; at length, after some noise and tumult, a queen-bee is chosen, to guard, rather than conduct, the young colony to other habitations, and then they are marshalled without any apparent conductor. In less than a minute, they leave their native abode, and forming a cloud round their protectress, they set off, without seeming to know the place of their destination; The world before them, where to choose their place of rest. The usual time of swarming, is from ten in the morning, to three in the afternoon, when the sun [...] bright, and invites them to seek their fortunes. They flutter for a while, in the air, like flakes of snow, and sometimes undertake a distant journey, but more frequently are contented with some neighbouring asylum; the branch of a tree, a chimney top, or some other exposed situation. It is, indeed, remarkable, that all those animals, of whatever kind, that have long been under the protection of man, seem [Page] to lose a part of their natural sagacity, in providing for themselves. The rabbit, when domesticated, forgets to dig holes, the hen to build a nest, and the bee to seek a shelter, that shall protect it from the inclemencies of winter. In those countries, where the bees are wild, and unprotected by man, they are always sure to build their waxen cells in the hollow of a tree; but with us, they seem improvident in their choice, and the first green branch that stops their flight, seems to be thought sufficient for their abode through winter. However, it does not appear, that the queen chooses the place where they are to alight, for many of the stragglers, who seem to be pleased with a particular branch, go and settle upon it; others are seen to succeed, and at last, the queen herself, when she finds a sufficient number there before her, goes to make it the place of her head quarters. When the queen is settled, the rest of the swarm soon follow; and, in about a quarter of an hour, the whole body seem to be at ease. It sometimes is found, that there are two or three queens to a swarm, and the colony is divided into parties; but it most usually happens, that one of these is more considerable than the other, and the bees by degrees, desert the weakest, to take shelter under the most powerful protector. The deserted queen does not long survive this defeat; she takes refuge under the new monarch, and is soon destroyed by her jealous rival. Till this cruel execution is performed, the bees never go out to work; and if there should be a queen-bee, belonging to the new colony, left [Page] in the old hive, she always undergoes the fate of the former. However, it must be observed, that the bees never sacrifice any of their queens, when the hive is full of wax and honey; for there is at that time, no danger in maintaining a plurality of breeders.

When the swarm is thus conducted to a place of rest, and the policy of government is settled, the bees soon resume their former labours.

When a hive sends out several swarms in the year, the first is always the best, and the most numerous. These, having the whole summer before them, have the more time for making wax and honey, and consequently their labours are the most valuable to the proprietor. Although the swarm chiefly consists of the youngest bees, yet it is often found, that bees of all ages compose the multitude of emigrants, and it often happens, that bees of all ages are seen remaining behind. The number of them is always more considerable than that of some populous cities, for sometimes upwards of forty thousand are found in a single hive. So large a body may well be supposed to work with great expedition; and in fact, in less than twent [...] four hours, they will make combs above twenty inches long, and seven or eight broad. Sometimes they will half fill their hives with wax, in less than five days. In the first fifteen days, they are always found to make more wax than they do afterwards during the rest of the year.

Having mentioned the industry of these admirable insects, it will be proper to say something of the effects of their labour, of that wax and honey, which are turned by man to such [Page] various uses. Bees gather together two kinds of wax, one coarse and the other fine. The coarser sort is bitter, and with this, which is called propolis, they stop up all the holes and crevices of their hives. It is of a more resinous nature than the fine wax, and is consequently better qualified to resist the moisture of the season, and preserve the works warm and dry within. The fine wax is as necessary to the animals preservation as the honey itself. With this they make their lodgings, with this they cover the cells of their young, and in this they lay up their magazines of honey. This is made, as has been already observed, from the dust of flowers, which is carefully kneaded by the little insect, then swallowed, and having undergone a kind of digestion, is formed into the cells, which answers such a variety of purposes. To collect this, the animal rolls itself in the flower it would rob, and thus takes up the vegetable dust with the hair of its body. Then carefully brushing it into a lump, with its forepaws it thrusts the composition into two cavities behind the thighs, which are made like spoons to receive the wax, and the hair that lines them, serves to keep it from falling.

As of wax, there are also two kinds of honey. The white and the yellow. The white is taken without fire from the honey-combs. The yellow is extracted by heat, and squeezed through bags, in a press. The best honey is new, thick and granulated, of a clear transparent white colour, of a soft and aromatic smell, and of a sweet lively taste. Honey made in mountainous countries, is preferable to that of [Page] the valley. The honey made in the spring, is more highly esteemed, than that gathered in summer, which last is still more valuable, than that of autumn, when the flowers begin to fade and lose their fragrance.

Of the SILKWORM.

THIS little creature, which only works for itself, has been made of the utmost service to man; and furnishes him with a covering more beautiful than any other animal can supply. We may declaim indeed against the luxuries of the times, when silk is so generally worn; but were such garments to fail, what other arts could supply their deficiency?

Though silk was anciently brought in small quantities to Rome, yet it was so scarce as to be sold for its weight in gold; and was considered as such a luxurious refinement in dress, that it was infamous for a man to appear in habits of which silk formed but half the composition. It was most probably brought among them from the remotest parts of the east; since it was, at that time of which I am speaking, scarcely known even in Persia.

Nothing can be more remote from the truth, than the manner in which their historians describe the animal by which silk is produced. Pausanius informs us, that silk came from the country of the Seres, a people of Asiatic Scythia; [Page] in which place an insect, as large as the beetle, but in every other respect resembling a spider, was bred up for that purpose. They take great care, as he assures us, to feed and defend it from the weather; as well during the summer's heat, as the rigours of winter. This insect, he observes, makes its web with its feet, of which it has eight in number. It is fed, for the space of four years, upon a kind of paste, prepared for it; and at the beginning of the fifth, it is supplied with leaves of the green willow, of which it is particularly fond; it then feeds till it bursts with fat: after which they take out its bowels, which are spun into the beautiful manufacture so scarce and costly.

The real history of this animal was unknown among the Romans till the times of Justinian; and it is supposed, that silkworms were not brought into Europe till the beginning of the twelfth century; when Roger of Sicily, brought workmen in this manufacture from Asia Minor, after his return from his expedition to the Holy Land, and settled them in Sicily and Calabria. From these the other kingdoms of Europe learned this manufacture; and it is now one of the most lucrative carried on among the southern provinces of Europe.

The silkworm is now very well known to be a large caterpillar, of a whitish colour, with [...]welve feet, and producing a butterfly of the [...]oth kind. The cone on which it spins, is [...]med for covering it while it continues in the [...]relia state; and several of these properly wound [...]ff, and united together, form those strong [...]d beautiful threads, which are woven into [Page] silk. The feeding these worms, the gathering, the winding, the twisting, and the weaving their silk, is one of the principal manufactures of Europe; and, as their luxuries increase, seems every day to become more and more necessary to human happiness.

There are two methods of breeding silkworms; for they may be left to grow, and remain at liberty upon the trees where they are hatched; or they may be kept in a place built for that purpose, and fed every day with fresh leaves. The first method is used in China, Tonquin, and other hot countries; the other is used in other places where the animal has been artificially propagated, and still continues [...] stranger. In the warm climate, the silkworm proceeds from an egg, which has been glued by the parent moth upon proper parts of the mulberry-tree, and which remains in that situation during the winter. The manner in which they are situated and fixed to the tree, keeps them unaffected by the influence of the weather; so that those frosts which are severe enough to kill the tree, have no power to injure the silkworm.

The insect never proceeds from the egg till Nature has provided it a sufficient supply; and till the budding leav [...] are furnished, in sufficient abundance, for its support. When the leaves are put forth, the worms seem to feel the genial summons, and bursting from their little eggs, crawl upon the leaves, where they feed with a most voracious appetite. Thus they become larger by degrees; and after some months feeding, they lay, upon every leaf, [Page] small bundles, or cones of silk, which appear like so many golden apples, painted on a fine green ground. Such is the method of breeding them in the East; and without doubt it is best for the worms, and least troublesome for the feeder of them. But it is otherwise in the colder European climates; the frequent changes of the weather, and the heavy dews of the evenings render the keeping them all night exposed, subject to so many inconveniences, as to admit of no remedy. It is true, that by the assistance of [...]ets, they may be preserved from the insults of birds; but the severe cold weather, which often succeeds the first heats of summer, as well as the rain and high winds, will destroy them all: and therefore, to breed them in Europe, they must be sheltered and protected from every external injury.

For this purpose, a room is chosen, with a south aspect; and the windows are so well glazed, as not to admit the least air: the walls are well built, and the planks of the floor exceeding close so as to admit neither birds nor mice, not even so much as an infect. In the middle there should be four pillars erected, or four wooden posts, so placed as to form a pretty large square. Between these are different stories made with ozier hurdles; and under each hurdle there should be a floor, with an upright border all round. These hurdles and [...]loors must hang upon pullies, so as to be placed or taken down at pleasure.

When the worms are hatched, some tender mulberry leaves are provided, and placed in the cloth or paper box in which the eggs were [Page] laid, and which are large enough to hold a great number. When they have acquired some strength, they must be distributed on beds of mulberry leaves, in the different stories of the square in the middle of the room, round which a person may freely pass on every side. They will fix themselves to the leaves, and afterwards to the sticks of the hurdles, when the leaves are devoured. They have then a thread, by which they can suspend themselves on occasion, to prevent any shock by a fall; but this is by no means to be considered as the silk which they spin afterwards in such abundance. Care must be taken that fresh leaves be brought every morning, which must be strewed very gently and equally over them; upon which the silkworms will forsake the remainder of the old leaves, which must be carefully taken away, and every thing kept very clean; for nothing hurts these infects so much as moisture and uncleanliness. For this reason their leaves must be gathered when the weather is dry, and kept in a dry place, if it be necessary to lay in a store. As these animals have but a short time to live, they make use of every moment, and almost continually are spinning except at those intervals when they change their skins. If mulberry leaves be difficult to be obtained, the leaves of lettuce or holy oak will sustain them: but they do not thrive so well upon their new diet; and their silk will neither be so copious, nor of so good a quality.

Though the judicious choice, and careful management of their diet, is absolutely necessary, yet there is another precaution of equal [Page] importance, which is to give them air, and open their chamber windows, at such times as the sun shines warmest. The place also must be kept as clean as possible; not only the several floors that are laid to receive their ordure, but the whole apartments in general. These things well observed, contribute greatly to their health and encrease.

The worm, at the time it bursts the shell, is extremely small, and of a black colour; but the head is of a more shining black than the rest of the body: some days after, they begin to turn whitish, or of an ash-coloured grey. After the skin begins to grow too rigid, or the animal is stinted within it, the insect throws it off, and appears cloathed a-new: it then becomes larger and much whiter, though it has a greenish cast: after some days, which are more or less, according to the different heat of the climate, or to the quality of the food it leaves off eating, and seems to sleep for two days together: then it begins to stir, and put itself into violent motions, till the skin falls off the second time, and is thrown aside by the animal's feet. All these changes are made in three weeks or a month's time; after which it begins to feed once more, still in its caterpillar form, but a good deal differing from itself before its change. In a few days time it seems to sleep again; and, when it awakes, it again changes its cloathing, and continues feeding [...]s before. When it has thus taken a sufficiency of food, and its parts are disposed for assuming the aurelia form, the animal forsakes, [...]or the last time, all food and society, and prepares [Page] itself a retreat to defend it from external injuries, while it is seemingly deprived of life and motion.

This retreat is no other than its cone, or ball of silk, which Nature has taught it to compose with great art; and within which it buries itself, till it assumes its winged form. This cone or ball is spun from two little longish kinds of bags that lie above the intestines, and are filled with a gummy fluid, of a marigold colour. This is the substance of which the threads are formed; and the little animal is furnished with a surprising apparatus for spinning it to the degree of fineness which its occasions may require. This instrument in some measure resembles a wire-drawer's machine, in which gold or silver threads are drawn to any degree of minuteness; and through this the animal draws its thread with great assiduity. As every thread proceeds from two gum-bags, it is probable that each supplies its own; which, however, are united, as they proceed from the animal's body. If we examine the thread with a microscope, it will be found that it is flatted on one side, and grooved along its length; from hence we may infer, that it is doubled just upon leaving the body; and that the two threads stick to each other by that gummy quality of which they are possessed. Previous to spinning its web, the silkworm seeks out some convenient place to erect its cel [...], without any obstruction. When it has found a leaf, or a chink fitted to its purpose, it be [...] to wreathe its head in every direction, and fastens its thread on every side to the sides of [Page] its retreat. Though all its first essays seem perfectly confused, yet they are not altogether without design: there appears indeed, no order or contrivance in the disposal of its first threads; they are by no means laid artfully over each other, but are thrown out at random, to serve as an external shelter against rain; for nature having appointed the animal to work upon trees in the open air, its habits remain, though it is brought up in a warm apartment.

Malpighi pretends to have observed six different layers in a single cone of silk: but what may easily be observed is, that it is composed externally of a kind of rough cotton-like substance, which is called floss; within the thread it is more distinct and even; and next the body of the aurelia, the apartment seems lined with a substance of the hardness of paper, but of a much stronger consistence. It must not be supposed, that the thread which goes to compose the cone, is rolled round, as we roll a bottom; on the contrary, it lies upon it in a very irregular manner, and winds off from one side of the cone, and then from the other. This whole thread, if measured, will be found about three hundred yards long; and so very fine, that eight or ten of them are generally rolled off into one by the manufacturers. The cone, when completed, is in form like a pigeon's egg, and more pointed at one end than the other; at the smaller end, the head of the aurelia is generally found; and this is the pla [...]e that the insect, when converted into a moth, is generally seen to burst through.

It is generally a fortnight or three weeks before [Page] the aurelia is changed into a moth; but no sooner is the winged insect completely formed, than having divested itself of its aurelia skin, it p [...]pares to burst through its cone, or outward prison: for this purpose it extends its head towa [...]ds the point of the cone, butts with its eyes, which are rough, against the lining of its cell, wears it away, and at last pushes forward, through a passage which is small at first, but which enlarges as the anim [...] encreases its efforts for emancipation; while [...] t [...]tered remnants of its aurelia skin lie in confusion within the cone, like a bundle of dirty linen.

The animal, when thus set free from its double confinement, appears exhausted with fatigue, and seems produced for no other purpose but to transmit a future brood. It neither flies nor eats; the male only seeking the female, whose eggs he impregnates; and their union continues for four days, without interruption. The male dies immediately after separation from his mate; and she survives him only till she has laid her eggs, which are not hatched into worms till the ensuing spring.

However, there are few of these animals suffered to come to a state of maturity; for as their bursting through the cone destroys the silk, the manufacturers take care to kill the aurelia, by exposing it to the sun, before the moth comes to perfection. This done, they [...] off the floss, and throw the cones into [...] water, stirring them till the first thread offe [...] them a clue for winding all off. They generally take eight of the silken threads together▪ the cones still keep under water, till [Page] a proper quantity of the silk is wound off: however, they do not take all; for the latter parts grow weak, and are of a bad colour. As to the paper-like substance which remains, some stain it with a variety of colours, to make artificial flowers; others let it lie in the water, till the glutinous matter which cements it is all dissolved: it is then carded like wool, spun with a wheel, and converted into silk stuffs of an inferior kind.

EPISTLE to a FRIEND, ON HIS RETURN FROM THE ARMY

AT length, war's bloody banner's furl'd,

Peace spreads her influence o'er the world;

You from the martial field retreat,

To seek your old paternal seat,

And, after five years absence, come

Loaded with debts and glory home.

Of tender parents favourite son,

Behold their happiness begun:

No more the Gazette's glorious tale

Now makes their anxious features pale,

Lest on the verdant laurel's stem

The cypress dark should grow for them.

[Page]Joyful they hail the morning ray,

And hope expectant gilds the day;

For sure, they cry, ere close of light,

Our absent son will bless our sight.

Till eve they watch with aching eyes,

And the next morn new hopes supplies.

And now the wish'd-for hour draws near,

That drowns in transport every fear;

Blest comfort of their waning lives,

Their son, their much-lov'd son arrives!—

On either side your bosoms glow,

And mutual tears of rapture flow;

I see, I see your generous breast

With filial love and joy possess'd:

I feel, my friend! that joy impart

Fire to my sympathizing heart,

And bid my artless pen portray

The scenes that fancy's dreams display.

While yet still night, in sable robe,

Broods o'er our quarter of the globe;

While slumber wraps each labouring breast,

And care herself is sooth'd to rest,

Alone impatient of delay,

Your thoughts anticipate the day:

You rouse at once from Morpheu's reign

The landlord and his menial train;

The drowsy ostler cries in vain,

"'Tis dark, you cannot see your hand:"

Booted and spurrd you ready stand,

And mounting swift your eager steed,

Fearless through night and cold proceed.

Soon as Aurora's ruddy ray

Beams forth to cheer you on your way,

I see you sweep, with loosen'd rein,

O'er hill and dale, thro' wood and plain;

[Page]Now gallop down the steep, and now,

Climbing the mountain's loftiest brow,

Bend o'er the landscape wide your eye,

Anxious your sire's abode to spy:

The fleeting spot eludes your view,

And seems to fly as you pursue.—

Faint on the horizon's farthest mound,

What hill is that with pine-trees crown'd?

The well-known landmark strikes your sight;

Your bosom swells with fond delight;

Fancy's vain hope no longer yields:

"Ye much-lov'd shades! ye blooming fields!

"My eager steps," you cry, "once more

"Your green recesses shall explore."

And now, as with redoubled speed,

Forward you urge your bounding steed,

You see the well-known spire arise,

And point its summit to the skies;

And now, each envious barrier past,

With heart-felt bliss you view at last

The turrets of the your natal dome,

Your parent's venerable home.

Here memory's fond powers dispense

Their influence o'er each raptur'd sense.

'Twas here, to pay a mother's care,

You first imbib'd the vital air;

Here each paternal art express'd,

To soothe and charm your infant breast,

Taught you in opening youth to prove

The bliss sincere of filial love.

Think how your parents' bosoms burn

To welcome your long-wish'd return;

Torn from their arms by glory's power,

How have they told each tedious hour!

Already to your eyes appear

[Page]The faultering voice, the joyful tear.

Beside the road the peasants throng

To see you swiftly pass along;

And bowing as you gallop by,

"'Tis the young captain, sure," they cry:

On you their greetings are all lost,

Forward with eager zeal you post;

To-morrow you'll return each bow,

But warmer duties call you now,

Arriv'd, at length, you touch once more

Your father's hospitable door.

The cheerful family surround

The hearth with crackling faggots crown'd;

Some friends partake the genial ray,

Nor is the parish priest away.

Of taxes, hay, and war, they chat,

Of news and weather, this and that;

Of the young soldier too they spoke,

When a loud knock the converse broke.

Astonish'd by a sound so loud,

Around the window quick they crowd.

When screams of joy their bliss declare,

"'Tis he, 'tis Belville come, I swear!"

Your parents, sisters, round you throng,

And transport loosens every tongue:

Your sire exclaims, "Five years are past

"Since I beheld my Belville last:

"Your country call'd you to the field,

"And I no more her sword could wield:

"Well hast thou fill'd thy father's place,

"Brave scyon of a warlike race:

"Nor shall my arms your steps detain,

"When e'er your country calls again."

O'er the brave vet'ran's furrow'd cheek

The beams of martial ardor break;

[Page]And from the eye where courage glows,

The tear of fond affection flows.

With silent joy your mother stands,

And grasps with trembling bliss your hands:

Her present hopes, her future fears,

Call forth alternate smiles and tears;

And in her face those thoughts are shown,

Which anxious mothers feel alone.

Your sisters, too, the transport share,

And, with soft friendship's mildest air,

Demand if still your bosom prove

The fondness of fraternal love.

"How tedious pass'd," they cry, "the day,

"When our lov'd brother was away:

"You promis'd you would often write;

"But the old proverb—Out of sight"—

Now ardent friendship's kindling joy,

And filial love, your thoughts employ;

And all the feelings of your breast

Are on your blooming cheek express'd:

A thousand questions, fondly made,

By fond caresses are delayed;

Transport forbids your words to flow,

Nor can you answer yes, or no.

And see the ancient dame appears,

The fosterer of your infant years:

"Lord bless me! how young master's grown?

"I scarce should have the Captain known

"Elsewhere, unless I had been told:

"How well he looks in blue and gold!

"Thank Heaven, he has neither maim nor "wound,

"But comes again quite safe and sound:

"For war's at best a dangerous choice;

"Good Sirs! how Madam must rejoice!"—

[Page]What social bliss! what charming ties!

From parents, country, friends, arise!

May they who scorn their rights to know,

Ne'er feel the transports they bestow;

And far from me and those I love,

That stubborn breast, kind Heav'n, rem [...]e,

Who meets unmov'd a mother's face,

Who tearless feels a friend's embrace;

Nor smiles to see those scenes rever'd,

Which infant pastimes have endear'd.

THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER.

FATHER of all! in ev'ry age,

In ev'ry clime ador'd,

By saint, by savage, and by sage,

Jehovah, Jove, or Lord.

Thou Great First Cause, least understood,

Who all my sense confin'd

To know but this, that thou art good,

And that myself am blind.

Yet gave me in this dark estate

To see the good from ill;

And binding nature fast in fate,

Left free the human will.

What conscience dictates to be done,

Or warns me not to do,

This teach me more than hell to shun,

That, more than heav'n pursue.

[Page]

What blessings thy free bounty gives,

Let me not cast away;

For God is paid when man receives,

T' enjoy is to obey.

Yet not to earth's contracted span

Thy goodness let me bound,

Or think thee Lord alone of man,

When thousand worlds are round.

Let not this weak unknowing hand

Presume thy bolts to throw,

Or deal damnation round▪ the land,

On each I judge thy foe.

If I am right, O teach my heart

Still in the right to stay!

If I am wrong, thy grace impart,

To find the better way.

Save me alike from foolish pride,

Or impious discontent;

At aught thy wisdom has deny'd,

Or aught thy goodness lent.

Teach me to feel another's woe,

To hide the fault I see;

That mercy I to others show,

That mercy show to me.

Mean tho' I am, not wholly so,

Since quicken'd by thy breath;

O lead me wheresoe'er I go,

Thro' this day's life or death.

[Page]

This day be bread and peace my lot;

All else beneath the sun

Thou know'st if best bestow'd, or not,

And let thy will be done.

To thee whose temple is all space,

Whose altar, earth, sea, skies;

One chorus let all beings raise!

All nature's incense rise!

Information about this book

Title statement

The history of little Jack. Embellished with a number of engravings. : To which is added, The little queen, a moral tale. Natural history of the bee. Natural history of the silkworm. Epistle to a friend on his return from the army. And The universal prayer, by A. Pope, Esq.

Day, Thomas, 1748-1789.

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI :

Date

2008-09.

ID [DLPS]

N21691

ID [TCP]

N21691

ID [STC]

Evans 28539

ID [NOTIS]

APX8222

ID [IMAGE-SET]

28539

ID [EVANS-CITATION]

99025151

Availability

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.

Series

Early American Imprints, 1639-1800 ; no. 28539.

Notes

(Evans-TCP ; no. N21691)

Transcribed from: (Readex Archive of Americana ; Early American Imprints, series I ; image set 28539)

Images scanned from Readex microprint and microform: (Early American imprints. First series ; no. 28539)

Source

— The history of little Jack. Embellished with a number of engravings. : To which is added, The little queen, a moral tale. Natural history of the bee. Natural history of the silkworm. Epistle to a friend on his return from the army. And The universal prayer, by A. Pope, Esq., Day, Thomas, 1748-1789., Pope, Alexander, 1688-1744. Universal prayer..

Extent

[2], 94 p. : ill. ; 17 cm. (12mo)

Printed and sold by William Spotswood.,. Boston: :: 1795.. (Attributed to Day in the Dictionary of national biography.) (Error in paging: p. 79 misnumbered 97.)

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