Mr. Holwell, and his affociates in captivity, were conveyed in a kind of coach drawn by oxen, called a hackery, to the camp, were they were loaded with fetters, and lodged in the tent of a Moorish foldier, which being no more than 4 feet by 3 feet, they were obliged to lie, fick as they were, half in and half out the whole night, which happened to be very rainy; yet the next day their fever happily came to a crifis, and boils broke out on every part of their bodies, which, though they were extremely painful, were the certain prefages of their recovery. The next day they were removed to the coaft, and by order of General Mhir Muddon were soon after sent by fea to Maxadavad, the metropolis of Bengal, to wait the viceroy's return, and be disposed as he fhould farther determine.

At Maxadavad they arrived, after a voyage of 13 days, in a large boat, in which they had no better provifion than tice and water, and no fofter bed than fome bamboos laid on the bottom timber of the veffel; they were, befides, expofed alternately to exceffive heat and violent rains, without any covering but a bit of old mat and fome scraps of facking. The boils that covered them were become running fores, and the irons on their legs had confumed the flesh almost to the bone.

When they arrived at Maxadavad, Mr. Holwell fent a letter to Mr. Law, the chief of the French factory, with an account of their diftrefs, and Mr. Law, with great politenefs and humanity, fent them not only cloaths, linen, provifion and liquors in great plenty, but money.

About 4 o'clock on the 7th of July, they landed, and after marching a confiderable way as a fpectacle to the multitude that thronged round about them, they were deposited under an open fhed, not far from the palace.

In this place they received every poffible relief, not only from the great kindness of the French and Dutch chiefs, but from the Arabian merchants.

On

On the 18th of July, the viceroy arrived, and the prifoners then learned that he had enquired for them, in order to set them at liberty before he left Calcutta, and was offended with Mhir Muddon for having fo haftily removed them. to Maxadavad. He did not, however, order their immediate discharge when he arrived, which is natural to suppose he would have done, if they had been detained in custody contrary to his inclination.

On the 25th they were conducted to the palace, to have an audience, and to know their fate; but they could have no audience that day, which, as it happened, was a favourable circumstance, for at night the viceroy's grandmother solicited their liberty, at a feaft, to which fhe was invited on his fafe return, and the viceroy promised that he would release them on the morrow.

On the morrow, about five in the morning they were waked, and told that the viceroy would in a few minutes pass by to his palace of Mooteejeel. Upon this intelligence they got up, and when the viceroy came in fight, they paid him the ufual homage, and uttered their benediction aloud. He looked at them with strong marks of compaffion in his countenance, and ordering his litter to ftop, he called them to him, and having heard a fhort extemporary petition, which was spoken by Mr. Holwell, he made no reply, but ordered two of his officers to see their irons instantly struck off, and conduct them fafely wherever they chose to go, giving them a strict charge to fee that they fuffered no injury or infult by the way.

This act of mercy, however late, or from whatever motive, was the more meritorious, as great pains were taken by fome time-ferving fycophants to prevent it; they told the viceroy, that Mr. Holwell, notwithstanding his loffes, was still poffeffed of enough to pay a confiderable fum for his freedom; to which the viceroy nobly replied, " If he

has

has any thing left, let him keep it; his fufferings have been great, and he shall have his liberty."

Mr. Holwell and his friends being thus dismissed, immediately took boat, and foon after arrived fafe at the Dutch fettlement at Corcemadad, where he afterwards embarked for England.

Lift of the unfortuuate Perfons Smothered in the Black Hole Prifon, exclufive of Sixty-nine, confifting of Dutch and English Sergeants, Corporals, Soldiers, Topaz's Militia, Whites and Portugueze, whose names were unknown; making in the whole One Hundred and twenty-three perfons.

Of Counsel.-E. Eyre, W. Baillie, Efqrs. Rev. Jervis Bellamy.

Gentlemen in the Service.-Meffrs. Jenks, Revely, Law, Coales, (Ens. Mil.) Valicourt, Jebb, Toriano, E. Page, S. Page, Grub, Street, Harod, P. Johnfone, Ballard, N. Drake, Carfe, Knapton, Gofling, Bing, Dod, Dalrymple. Military Captains.-Clayton, Buchannan, Witherington. Lieutenants.-Bifhop, Hays, Blagg, Simpfon, Belamy. Enfigns.-Paccard, Scot, Haftings, C. Wedderburn, Dumbleton, (Ens. Mil.)

Sergeants, &c. Sergeant Major, Quarter Mafter Sergeant.Abraham, Cartwright, Bleau, Sergeants of Militia.

Sea Captains.-Hunt, Ofburne, Purnell, (furvived the night but died the next day;) Meffrs. Carey, Stephenson, Grey, Porter, W. Parker, Caulker, Bendall, Atkinson, Leech, &c. &c.

Lift of thofe who furvived the Black Hole Prifon.

Meffrs. Holwell, Court, Secretary Cooke, Lufhington, Burdet, Enfign Walcot, Mrs. Carey, Capt. Mills, Capt. Dickfon, Mr. Moran, John Meadows, and twelve military and Militia Blacks and Whites, fome of whom recovered when the door was opened.

The

The Singular Cafe of RENEE CORBEAU, and a Young Nobleman of Normandy.

[Tranflated from Les Causes Celebres.]

A YOUNG nobleman, born at Seéz, in Normandy, was a

ftudent of the law at Angers; he became enamoured of the charms of Renee Corbeau, the daughter of a citizen of that town. She suffered herself to be feduced by a promise of marriage, which he gave her in writing.

Her condefcenfions were foon followed by an effect so manifest to the eye as not to be concealed from her parents. Marriage feemed the only poffible remedy to the misfortune. In order to get the better of the reluctance to this union, with which the great disparity of their ranks might inspire the young man, they had recourse to ftratagem. The girl's father and mother perfuaded her to give her lover a “rendezvous" one day when it was pretended they were gone into the country. The moment the parents were convinced he was alone and in private with her, they abruptly broke in upon him, and, with the most savage looks and gestures, threatened him with all the terrors of the law against rape and feduction. The youth was surprised into confent, and a lawyer in waiting in an adjoining chamber, produced a marriage contract in due form, which was immediately figned by all parties.

The next day, the young man, being recovered from his panic, to evade the fulfilment of his engagement, fuddenly difappeared from Angers, and went home to his father, to whom he made a confeffion of all that had happened. The father, in order to prevent all poffibility of the marriage ever being folemnized, perfuaded his fon to take pricft's orders. Renée Corbeau, indignant, and rendered furious at this deception, eagerly joined her father and mother in the pro

fecution

fecution at law. An attachment was foon iffued against the young man by one of the inferior courts, from which the cause was carried, by appeal, before the parliament of Paris.

After a folemn hearing of the most eminent advocates of their time, on both fides, the young man was condemned according to the jurisprudence of those days, to "be beheaded on a public fcaffold, unless he married Renèe Corbeau:" and, upon his reprefenting, that, according to the ordinances of the Roman Catholic religion, his being a priest put it out of his power to avail himself of the choice which the High Court had extended to him, he was ordered for immediate execution.

Already he had mounted the scaffold, attended by the holy confeffor appointed to affift him in his last moments, and was preparing himself for the fatal block, when Renée Corbeau felt all her love return. With her fex's fondness, fhe could not endure the thought of the ignominious death which her lover was about to fuffer, only becaufe fhe had too much loved him.

With the rapidity of lightning the darted through the throng, and made her way into the very chamber in which the high court was ftill fitting. She implored permiffion to be heard, and leave was granted her to speak.

She most humbly reprefented that, as to herself, it was manifest she had been deemed not fo faulty as unfortunate, fince death was to be the portion of him to whom she had abandoned herself; but that such a sentence, far from wiping away her difgrace, completed the measure of her shame, in fnatching from her, for ever, the only perfon in the world in whose power it might be to restore to her her honour. Inftead, therefore, of its being, as it was held out to be, her acquittal, it was in truth condemning her to a whole life of fruitless grief for a fault, which it was pretended had been

remitted