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Stothard del.

Heath sculp.

- He finds the lacerated lamb of anothers flock. This moment I beheld him leaning with his head against his crook, with piteous inclination looking down upon it.

Published as the Act directs, by JJohnson in S.Pauls Church Yard, 1 August,1780.

eft peafant who traverfes the bleakeft mountains.-He finds the lacerated lamb of another's flock. This moment I beheld him leaning with his head against his crook, with piteous inclination looking down upon it.-Oh! had I come one moment fooner!-it bleeds to death-his gentle heart bleeds with it.

PEACE to thee, generous fwain! I fee thou walkeft off with anguish-but thy joys fhall balance it; for happy is thy cottage, and happy is the sharer of it, and happy are the lambs which sport about you.





thyfelf as thou wilt, ftill SLAVERY! ftill

thou art a bitter draught; and though thousands in all ages have been made to drink of thee, thou art no less bitter on that account. It is thou, LIBERTY, thrice sweet and gracious goddefs, whom all in public or in private worship, whose taste is grateful, and ever will be so, till nature herself shall change-no tint of words can spot thy fnowy mantle, or chymic power turn thy fceptre into ironwith thee to fmile upon him as he eats his cruft, the swain is happier than his monarch, from whofe court thou art exiled. Gracious Heaven! grant me but health, thou great Beftower of it, and give me but this fair goddess as my companion; and fhower down thy mitres, if it seems good unto thy divine providence, upon those heads which are aching for them.

PURSUING thefe ideas, I fat down close by my table, and leaning my head upon my hand, I began to figure to myself the

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the miseries of confinement. I was in a right frame for it, and fo I gave full fcope to my imagination.

I was going to begin with the millions of my fellowcreatures born to no inheritance but slavery; but finding, however affecting the picture was, that I could not bring it nearer me, and that the multitude of fad groups in it did but diftract me

-I TOOK a fingle captive, and having first shut him up in his dungeon, I then looked through the twilight of his grated door to take his picture.

I BEHELD his body half wafted away with long expectation and confinement, and felt what kind of fickness of the heart it was which arifes from hope deferred. Upon looking nearer I faw him pale and feverish in thirty years the western breeze had not once fanned his blood-he had seen no fun, no moon in all that time-nor had the voice of friend or kinfman breathed through his lattice. His children

-But here my heart began to bleed-and I was forced to go on with another part of the portrait.

He was fitting upon the ground upon a little straw, in the furtheft corner of his dungeon, which was alternately his chair and bed: a little calendar of small fticks were laid at the head, notched all over with the dismal days and nights he had passed there--he had one of these little sticks in his hand, and with a rufty nail he was etching another day of mifery to add to the heap. As I darkened the little light he had, he lifted up a hopeless eye towards the door, then caft it down-fhook his head, and went on with his work of affliction. I heard his chains upon his legs, as he turned his body to lay his little stick upon the bundle-He gave a deep figh-I faw the iron enter into his foul-I burst into




tears I could not sustain the picture of confinement which my fancy had drawn.




MY young mafter in London is dead, faid


-HERE is fad news, Trim, cried Sufannah, wiping her eyes as Trim ftepped into the kitchen,-mafter Bobby is dead.

I LAMENT for him from my heart and my foul, faid Trim, fetching a figh-Poor creature!-poor boy!poor gentleman!

He was alive last Whitfuntide, faid the coachman.Whitfuntide! alas! cried Trim, extending his right arm, and falling inftantly into the fame attitude in which he read the fermon,-what is Whitfuntide, Jonathan, (for that was the coachman's name) or Shrovetide, or any tide or time past, to this? Are we not here now, continued the corporal, (ftriking the end of his ftick perpendicular upon the floor, fo as to give an idea of health and stability) and are we not (dropping his hat upon the ground) gone! in a moment! It was infinitely ftriking! Sufannah burst into a flood of tears. We are not stocks and ftones-Jonathan, Obadiah, the cook-maid, all melted. The foolish fat fcullion herself, who was fcouring a fifh-kettle upon her knees, was roufed with it.-The whole kitchen crouded about the corporal.

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"ARE we not here now, and gone in a moment ?”— There was nothing in the sentence-it was one of yourfelf

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