matter to give their opinion of the merits of this great performer; nor do they think any apology necessary to be made for having omitted to make honourable mention of him in this miscellany; but per haps it may be a useful hint to Mr. Mace, to remind him, that as he has made billiards so much his study, it is imagined, if he were to follow the example of the great Hoyle, and write a treatise upon it, he might acquire fame, and recruit

his finances.

STEALING AND MAIMING A MARE.

Warwick Spring Assizes..

ILLIAM ALLEN was indicted for stealing a black mare, the property of Thos. Turvey. The prisoner, upon his own confession, took the mare from a field in the parish of Aston, belonging to another person, with whom Turvey had intrusted the horse to grass. What made this case singular was, that the prisoner took the mare to the house of Turvey, who is a slaughterman, and said he wanted to sell her to be slaughtered; at this time she was bleeding very profusely, having been cut in the sinews of the near leg. Upon Turvey seeing the mare, he recognized her as his own, and took the prisoner into custody. He confessed to the constable, that he stole her; and having heard some navigators say, that if a man stole a horse, maimed him, and sold him to be killed; he could not be hurt for it, as nobody could swear to him then; that he had accordingly done. These facts being clearly proved, and offering nothing in defence, the jury found him guilty; but recommended him to merev. VOL. XXVI. No. 151.

THE MALLARD AND FRENCH

SPANIEL.

An Engraving.

The

THE mallard is something larger than the domestic drake, the plumage infinitely more brilliant and variegated. It is a bold bird, and common to most parts of England bordering on large rivers, and the sea-coast; particularly where the covers are least fre quented by the foot of man. All the winter, and in the spring, the fenny parts of Lincolnshire abound with them, where they continually mingle with the flocks of aquatic birds that feed the decoys. sportsman delights greatly in the pursuit of the mallard, and the entertainment it affords is improved by the delicious flavour of the food it yields to his skill and industry. A long barrel, and a good sized round shot, with a brace of welltrained spaniels, are the necessary concomitants of this diversion. Caution and silence are also requisite, for the mallard possesses a keen eye, and a most acute hearing; yet he rises slow, and presents as fair a mark for the fowler as any bird selected for his pleasures. The rough French spaniel has been found the best companion on these occasions: he watches the conduct of the sportsman, and, with a velocity unequalled, darts on the wounded bird, and, having fastened on his prey, presents it with all possible speed at the feet of his, master.

The picture from which the annexed engraving was taken, was painted by the ingenious Mr. Elmer of Farnham," and will no doubt be highly acceptable to our sport`ing readers.

F

SYMPA

pointments, I left the town at an early hour, intending to reach Tiverton some time in the course of the day. To that end, and to remark on such things as might engage my notice, I gently pursued a pleasant path, and took my breakfast at a village called Upbishops, remarkable for nothing but a singular fashioned church, of great antiquity, and a good prospect of the windings of the silver Taun. After a walk of seven miles, I came in sight of Wellington. At a small space previous to the entrance of that town, my sight was agreeably attached by the industry and ingenuity of a poor, and, as I conceived, pitiable

BLIND SAILOR,

Who, as he informed me, in the younger part of his life, worked as a shipwright in the King's yard, at Plymouth, and that after serving his country seventeen years, lost his sight on a West India station. The man was sitting on a large stone bemerrily, while his fingers were busy fore his cottage door, and singing in adjusting the sails and rigging of a man of war, wholly made by himself, though his eyes were without the smallest degree of vision; every thing appeared to me with such correctness, that I could not help expressing my admiration; and with a warmth that gave great satisfaction to the white-headed Hanibal. "It is my only amusement," said he," and diverts away the teraffliction. But I do not rors of my repine; for, since I have followed my old trade of ship building, my health has greatly improved: and I thank God," continued he, "my judgment makes me equal to the undertaking; and what with my pension, and the liberality of travellers, I make a pretty good shift to live F 2 comfortably.

comfortably. His Grace the Duke of Bedford, God bless him, was pleased to stop here on his way to Tavistock, and came to exainine my labours, when he ordered me ten pounds, with which I was enabled to get through the last hard winter with a great deal of comfort and happiness.'

I made a small sacrifice to humanity, and leaving the old navigator, with a wish for his future welfare, he thanked me, and continued his labour and his song. The singular economy of this fellowcreature prepared my mind for a strain of reflections, which, in another part of my letter, I shall fully communicate. Now let me enter the town of

WELLINGTON;

Or, Well-in-town, as I conceive it to have been originally called; for, at the entrance, in the centre of the street, is a well of some magnitude, apparently constructed for the general benefit of the inhabitants. Wellington is a very handsome town, one hundred and forty-seven miles from the metropolis, in the high road to the western extremities of England. Beside other places of worship, it has a majestic lofty stone church, of great capacity. The inns are few, but good; and the market place nearly in the centre, is conveniently constructed, and constantly supplied with every thing necessary for the pleasures of man; and at a rate so reasonable, that I was offered by a very respectable tradesman to be boarded and lodged for twelve shillings per week, the table to be covered every day with fish, flesh, and fowl; or with whatever was seasonable. The town is extensive, and on a flat gravel soil; free from impurities; within a few hours ride of both the British and

the Bristol channels. The inhabitants are remarkable for their civility, and in general look cheerful and healthy. The surrounding hills shelter them from the violence of tempests; the water is clear and tasteless, and the vegetation various and abundant. Society, as I am informed, is rather circumscribed; but, upon the whole, the man of little ambition, small fortune, attached to quietness, may find at Wellington, in Somersetshire, a paradise of comforts, and spend his summer months with as much felicity as in any part of Great Britain. After a necessary refreshment, I turned from this seat of variety, and took me again to the rural foot way, where the stillness of the scene, and a recollection of the poor blind sailor led me to follow up my but suspended

REFLECTIONS.

What is the human mind, said I addressing myself to the brilliant heavens-repulsive to the operations of genius, and incompetent to the impression of rational amusement? It is the dark cold flint, upon the mountain's top, upon which the dews of fertility are shed in vain; on the contrary, the afflicted bosom, susceptive of their advantages, presently becomes a barrier against the approaches of despondency, and, in a great measure, beguiles those evils which would trench too deep into the space of our existence. Here we behold a blind old man soothing affliction by an ingenious attachment, and though dark as the log he sculptured, almost forgets his loss, even confesses happiness, and sings cheerfully beneath the severest of human deprivations; yes, in his own docility he finds the honey which endulcerates the bitterness of his mi

sery.

sery. Surely such a disposition mounts almost to the highest degree on the scale of human felicity. This philosophy of the mind, for so I must call it, has in all ages been of the highest advantage to the world. The immortal lomer evinced it, and so did our divine Milton, in a poem not less in merit than that composed by the blind bard of Greece. Professor Saunderson, to divert his hours of darkness, fashioned, with his own fingers, a sphere to be a model for astrono'mers to the end of time. These are

thy works, almighty Parent of Good! And here I shall conclude my reflections on the power of rational amusements, over the miseries of the body and the mind, with the story of the unfortunate

PELISSON AND HIS SPIDER.

Pelisson was a writer, who, having given offence to the ministers of his government, was cast by them into a cell in the Bastile, where, as was usual during the reign of Louis XIV. the prisoners were debarred the visits of their friends, and lived on bread and water, without the comfort of any book whatever; denied every kind of recreation, and forbid, on pain of greater severity, the pen and the inkstand. After a a few months of confinement, life became insupportable to Pelisson, till at length he got acquainted with a spider, which he had rendered familiar by frequently giving

crumbs of bread to the insect, which

used to spin down as soon as Pelisson was at his scanty meal. From this period, of diverting his benevolent mind, Pelisson's sufferings were in a great degree softened; and, like the Indian slave to the dog, his constant companion-described by Burney

He found it happiness to give A portion of his coarse and scanty meal." The care of this spider was to him both an employ and amusement. He considered that he was no longer alone, and found comfort in that thought. It happened, however, one day that the gaoler brought the bread and water later than usual, and he was still in the cell when the spider spun down to receive the prisoner's bounty, Pelisson threw it a few crumbs, but the sight highly offended the cruel gaoler, who, loading the poor man with execrations for so vile an amusement-as he termed it-with one stroke of his large key unmercifully killed the harmless creature; and this malicious conduct, for the first time, made Pelisson to shed tears.

The remembrance of this circumstance is yet preserved in the cabinets of the curious. Watteaux, the celebrated French painter, made it the subject of a picture, in which the likeness of the suffering Pelisson is correctly preserved, and from which a very good engraving was taken, and frequently to be met with at our public sales..

Thus, by attachments reason smiles to

Own,

We dissipate the sigh, and mock the

moan.

Whose