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the night, caft anchor behind the town of Aden, refting there till fun-rife. The next day the batha being at Aden with his whole Heet, he fent in the morning for a renegado Turk, (who was then a Chriftian, and a man of confiderable account) and without faving any thing, caufed his head to be cut of. The reafon was they murmured, and the bafha, fearing this renagado would accufe him of neglect or cowardice, was refolved to be beforehand with him: because he formerly was in the pay of the king of this place, and afterwards a captain at Diu, when the king of it was flain by the Portuguele. The widow queen, being poffeffed of great treasure and defirous to retire to Mecca, was perfuaded by this man to go on board a galleon, with which he treacherously failed to Egypt, and thence carried the treasure to Conftantinople, and made a prefent of it to the grand fignior, who he ing informed by him, how matters paffed in India, made him patron of a galley, and ordered him to return thither with the fleet, which fucceeded badly, and coft him his Life. After this the bafha being defirous to fecure Aden, caufed 100 pieces of

basha being enraged at this anfwer next day fent his kiahya with a banner, accompani ed by fome flout janiffaries, who arriving at Zibit, prefented the fame to the king. The king, in return made him a very fine prefent, among which was a fcymetar, with feveral jewels, likewife a dagger and fome beautiful pearls, of fix carats each, which made a ftring of more than a foot in length, befides a fine pearl of 18 carats for much oriental pearl is taken on this part of the coaft of Arabia. He likewife gave to each of the Turks, two vefts of cloth and a little blick flave. The kiahya made him many compliments and conjured him to come down to the coaft; but the king would by no means confent, fearing he should be put to death. When the kiahya faw that he could not prevail on him to go, he faid, "If you will not go to the bafha, he will come to you ;" and fo took leave. The fleet flaid here 29 days.

(To be continued.)

Tranflation of an Original Letter from Mary
Queen of Scots to Queen Elizabeth.

cannon great and fmall, to be landed out of AGREEABLY to my promife and

the fleet; among which there were two parts volants of the great Venetian galleys of Alexandria. He left there alfo a quantity of powder and ball, with a fanjac, 500 Turks, and five foifts.

The Baha now judging himself out of danger, on the 14th quitted the half-galley, and returned to the Maon. The 23d, they failed from Aden with a good wind, weft by fouth, and between the evening and morning, ran 100 miles. The 25th, at the 5th hour of the day, the fleet entered the ftreights of the Red Sea, and all night lay at anchor. On the 25th three hours before day, they departed, failing north-weft, with a feanty wind; nevertheless, they ran 50 miles, and came to a caftle called Mocha. The fame day, there came an old Turk, go vernor of the caftle, to wait on Solyman, who received him with great honour, and gave him a veft. The governor, in return, continually fent the basha refreshments from fhore; and a few days afterwards brought on board all his riches, which were very great, befides many fine flaves of both fexes, thinking every body would follow him. As foon as the fleet arrived at Mecca, the basha fent an ambalfador to the city of Zibit, three days journey within land, to fummon the king forthwith to the fea fide, to pay obedience to the grand fignior. The king made anfwer, that as to the tribute he would readily pay it, and would willingly accept of a standard, if the batha would fend him one; but that he would not go to the sea fide, and did not know him. The Gent. Mag. May, 1788.

to your delire. I now acquaint you, with regret, that fuch things fhould be spoke of, and with the utmoft fincerity and freedom from paffion, (which I call God to witnefs) that the countefs of Shrewsbury told me of you what follows, almoft in these words, to the greateft part of which, I protest to you, I made answer by reproving that lady for believing or fpeaking with fuch liherty of you; as they were things I did not believe, nor do I believe them now, knowing the counters's temper, and how much she was offended at you.

First, she said, that a perfon to whom you had promifed marriage in prefence of a lady of your bedchamber, had lain with you an infinite number of times, with all the freedom and intimacy of a husband with his wife? but that certainly you were not like other wonen, and, therefore, it was great folly to prefs your marriage with the duke d'Anjou, as it never could take place; and that you would never part with the liberty of having love made to you, and of wantonly dallying at any time with new lovers: the at the fame time regretted that you would not content yourself with mafter Hatton, or fome other of this kingdom: but that which vexed her moft was, that you had parted with your honour to one Simier, a foreigner (going in the night to meet him in the apartinent of a lady, whom the counte's greatly blamed on that account, where you killed him, and ufed many indecent familiarities with him); but that you also revealed to him the fecrets of ftate, thus betraying your own couufels: that you behaved in the HA

fame loose manner to the duke his master, who went one night to the door of your chamber, where you met him with nothing on but your shift and your bed-gown, and foon fuffered him to come in, and he ftaid with you near three hours.

That as to Hatton, you followed him fo, that the whole court took notice of your paflion for him; and that he himself was forced to leave the court; and that you gave Kiligrew a blow on the ear, because he could not, as you ordered him, bring back Hat ton, who had parted from you in anger, for fome abufive language you had given him on account of fome gold buttons he had on his cloaths.

That the had endeavoured to make a match between Hatton and the late countess of Lenox, her daughter; but that, for fear of you, he durft not liften to the propofal: that even the earl of Oxford durft not make up his differences with his lady, for fear of lofing the favours he expected by making love to you that you were lavish to all thefe perfons, and to fuch as intrigued with you as they did; particularly one George, a gentleman of your bedchamber, to whom you gave three hundred pounds a-year for bringing you the news of Hatton's return: that to every body elfe you were moft niggardly and ungrateful: and that you had never done any thing for above three or four perfons in your whole kingdom

She advifed me (laughing at the same time moft immoderately) to put my fon on making love to you; which, the faid, would be of infinite fervice to me, and would make you shake off the duke of Anjou, who would otherwife do me a great prejudice. And upon my answering that this would be taken as a piece of downright mockery,the replied, that you were so vain, that you had as high an opinion of your beauty, as if you were fome celeftial goddefs; and that he would, on pain of lofing her head, undertake to make you believe that he was paffionately in love with you; and would also keep him in a proper temper. That you were fo delighted with the moft extravagant flatteries, that you could bear to be told that people could not look at you full in the face, becaule the brightnefs of your face was like that of the fun. That fhe and all other ladies of the court were obliged to talk to you in this train; and that the last time the went to wait on you with the late countefs of Lenox, they durft not look at one another for fear of bursting into laughter at the ridiculous and fulfome bombaft with which the loaded you; and at her return the defired me to chide her daughter, whom the never could prevail on to do the fame: and that as to her daughter Talbot, on returning from paying her compliments to you, and taking

the oaths as one of your servants, told of it as a thing done by way of mockery; and begged of me to receive the fame homage, but paid with more fincerity; which I long refused, but at length, moved by her tears, I fuffered it. She faid, he would not for any thing be in your service to be next your perfon; fo much was she afraid, that when you were in a paffion, you would do to her as you had done to her coufin Skedmur, whofe finger you broke, and gave out at court that it was done by the falling of a candlestick; and that another of your fervants you cut across the hand with a great knife: that, in fhort, for these things and several others, you were mimicked and made game of, as in a comedy, by my women; on hearing of which, I fwear to you, I forbad them ever to do fo any more.

Moreover, the countefs formerly told me, that you wanted Robson to make love to me, and endeavour to dishonour me, either in fact or by reports, about which he had instructions from your own mouth. That Ruxby came here about eight years ago to make an attempt on my life, having spoken about it with yourself, you told him to do as Walfingham fhould recommend to him and direct him. When the countess was making up the match between her fon Charles and one of lord Paget's nieces, and that, on the other hand, you would have her for one of the Knolles's, because he was your relation, the exclaimed loudly against you, and faid, it was downright ty ranny for you to dispose of all the heireffes of the country to your fancy; and that you had used Bagot in a fhameful manner: but that fome others of the nobility of the kingdom, if you should add efs yourself in like manner to them, would not put up with fo tamely.

That about four or five years ago, when you was ill, and I was ill at the fame time, the told me that your illness proceeded from a running fore you had in your leg; and that, as a great change in your habit of body had juft preceded it, you would certainly die; at which the greatly rejoiced, from a vain imagination the had long conceived from the prediction of one John Lenton, and of an old book, which foretold your death by violence, and the fucceflion of another queen, whom the interpreted to be me, regretting only that, according to the aforefaid book, the queen that fhould fucceed you would reign only three years, and die like you by violence; which was even reprefented in a picture in the said book, in which there was one leaf, the contents of which he would never tell me. She knows herlelf that I always looked on this as a foolish thing; but the made her account, that the fhould be in my good graces, and

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even that my fon fhould marry her niece Arabella.

As to the reft, I again declare to you, upon my word and honour, that what is faid above is strictly true; and that what your honour is concerned in, it never once entered my thoughts to injure you by revealing; and that I fhall never fpeak of it, believing it to be very falfe. If I could have an hour to speak with you, I would tell you more particularly the names, times, and place, and other circumftances, that you might know the truth of both this and other things, which I referve till I be affured of your friendship, which, as I wifh it more than ever, fo, if I could once obtain it, you never had relation, friend, or even fubject, more faithful and affectionate to you than I fhould prove. For God's fake, fecure to yourself her who is both willing and able to do you fervice. From my bed, putting a force upon my arm and my pains to fatisfy and obey you.

. MARIA R.

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MPLE IFPER has difcovered and car

ried into execution a method of charring or diftilling Pit-coal, upon the fame principle as has been done in this country for a confiderable time by the Earl of Dundonald. If we understand rightly the construction of the furnaces used by his Lordfhip, the process in them is what the chymifts call diftillatio per afcenfum; that is, the volatile matters feparated from the coal are carried upwards, and by a proper apparatus condenfed and collected. The method defcribed by our author is a diftillatio per defcenfum; the coals are inclofed in a kind of oven, the heat is applied to this externally, and the fluids by it expelled from the coals run off by a gutter in the bottom of the furnace, and being conveyed by pipes to a proper place, are there collected for use. The firft of these that makes its appearance, and indeed continues to come off till the very end of the process, is what our author calls his Styptic Water, at firft with very little tafte or fmell, but gradually more and more frongly impregnated with what gives it the ufeful quality for which it is here recommended. It is received into barrels as it comes off; thefe are numbered as they fill, and fet by. No. 1. therefore, contains the weakest water; No. 2. is ftronger, No. 3. ftill more fo, &c. The oils, and part of the N T E.

* Publifhed in 1777, along with his Method of Charring, &c. Tranflated into French 1783.

volatile fpirit that comes over along with this water, as the process advances, are underftood to be feparated from it before it is applied to the purpose of tanning.

This difcovery, fays M. Pleiffer, I communicated to a great court feven years ago, and to one of the worthieft minifters known, with fpecimens of the leather thus prepared.

This gave occafion to various opinions, and convinced me, that, to obtain from the world the reputation of great skill in metal lurgy, chemistry, arts, or manufactures, nothing more was neceffary than a good deal of fupplenefs and powerful intereft, joined to a little knowledge. One, in the name of a celebrated company, objected, that lime and bark would be leffened greatly in their value, and, of courfe, fo much of the landed property would be injured, fhould this method be introduced: Another, in a dictatorial tone, declared, that lime was a thing indifpenfably necessary to give a grain to leather.

need no refutation; they only shew with Arguments like thefe, adds our author, what fuperficial knowledge fome men, fa. voured by fortune, venture to oppose reason

and truth.

Lime is the material which has been longeft in ufe for removing the hair of skins, and ging them a grain; but, being a very corrofive fubftance, and at the fame time a pow." erful attracter of humidity, it hurts the leather too much, and renders it foft and fpongy.

Bark is the other fubftance which has been much used: it is free, in a great measure, from the imperfections of the lime; but 300 lb. of it, and fix months time nearly, are neceffary for the tanning of a single ftrong hide: the conftant confumption too of this material renders it daily dearer. It is therefore, certainly, a defirable object, to curtail the time, the labour, and the expence attending this method of tanning; which, it is hoped, might be accompanied by the use of the ftyptic water.

The process recommended by the ingenious author, for this purpofe, is as fol lows:

Two large tubs, each fix feet wide, and four feet high, with lids exactly fitted to them, are to be made of a wood that will not communicate bad taste or colour to the fluid, ftout and perfectly water-tight. These are to be placed on brick-work, or other mafonry, in fuch a manner as to be raised a little, and acceffible on all fides for conveniency, with a fire-place and flue under each for warming their contents.

The fresh hides, well washed and cleanfed, are to be spread out carefully one above another in these vats, with the hairy fides toHh2 wards

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wards each other. Sometimes they can be more conveniently fpread out, by dividing each hide into two from the neck to the tail. Twelve or fourteen will be fufficient for one of the vats; for three inches at least should be left empty at top.

Take now your flyptic water of barrel No. 1. that is, of the first running, and having diluted it with one third of rain or river water, pour it in over the hides, till you fill the vats to the brim: if there is not enough of No. 1. fill it up with the next number properly diluted. Then put on the lids, and kindle a fmall fire under the yats, to warm the water contained in them. As this is to be done only to a certain degree, you ought to have the perfect management of the heat by the moveable valve in the chimney of each flue; and the heat ought never to be fo great but that one might put his hand down to the bottom of the vats without any danger of burning.

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After ten or twelve hours, examine whe her the skin begins to part with the hair, and continue to do this every now and then with great care. As foon as you find that the hair comes away with little refiftance, feize the opportunity, take off the lids, extinguish the fire, and proceed directly to ftrip them entirely of their hair. Were you to mifs this time, and allow the hides to remain longer in the vats, the hides themselves indeed would not be injured, but the hair would again adhere much closer, and require a deal of trouble to remove it.

The hides being thus freed from their covering, empty the vats of the water, and vipe them very clean with dry linen cloths; spread out your hides carefully, and replace them in the vats as at first. Fill thefe up now with the flyptic water of barrel No. 2. diluted with one fourth rain water, or that of No. 1. if any remained undiluted; rekindle the fire, and give a gentle equal heat to the vats, which are now not to be covered any more. As the evaporation goes on, continue always to fill up the vats with the remaining water of No. 2. if any, then of No, 3, 4, &c. all undiluted. In ten, twelve, or fourteen days, the grain of the leather will be fufficiently raised by this procefs. The hides must be a fecond time removed from the vats, and hung up on perches to let the water drain off. The vats are to be cleaned again, the hides then replaced in them, the typtic water of the fucceeding numbers poured on them, and a gentle heat maintain

ed as before.

firft. Thus, at laft, the hides will acquire the proper folidity, and be rendered impenetrable to water. At the end of fifteen days, or three weeks, more or lefs, according to the thickness of the hides, they will ise found by the currier to be completely done; however it is better to let them have a little more of it, than that they fhould be taken out too foon.

The intention of this laft part of the operation is now to brace up the leather, and give it a firm body, to which end the fuc ceeding water is excellently adapted, as it always is ftronger and ftronger in each fucreading barrel, the weakest having come off

For the last time then they are to be taken out from the water, and hung up again on perches, to drain the water from them and cool them; when this is done, they are fpread out horizontally, allowed to dry flowly in the fnade, then carried to the fore and preferved for the market.

Several experiments have proved that the strong leather (cuir fort) made in this manner, is of a better quality than that, made by any other method yet known, but it has a more brownish look, and the fmell of Ruffian leather (cuir de Rouffi).

If upper leather is to be tanned with flyptie water, the procefs will differ from the above only in the time required for it. Leis time, it is evident, will be necessary for raifing the grain in this, than in the thicker fole-leather; but there finaller hides must be well wrought and trampled, to extend them properly, and bring out the grain.

The leather for the roof and brace of coaches is with more difficulty prepared than either of the above kinds, according to the methods of tanning hitherto in use. In order to accomplish it, we must firit know the difference between this and the other kinds; and the principal one is, that els regard is had to raising the grain in the coach-leather; which, befides, is wanted only of half the thicknefs of fole-leather. Our bufinefs, therefore, must be to fteep, for a much inorter pace, the hides intended for coach leather, and to ule for it the strongest of our flyptic water. The faddle leather of the beft quahity may be made in no refpect inferior even to that of Hungary.

I

Abufe of Wit.

TN the prefent age, fatirical levity conftitutes 1. Let us, therefore, confider what character has the beft pretenfions & real it.

The man of learning, whom we commonly dub with the title of fcholar, is feldom to agreeable as he is ufeful to fociety in general-becaufe his genius, fhut up in a ludy, comes out of it with pain; always retaining the gieominefs of that place, which has been the Icene of his producing a great many beautiful things, but hinders him from publishing them in common converfation.

gain, being too full of what he has done, or too much taken up with what he is going to compote, he feldom gets clear of his eas

hufiafan; and finding every thing beneath his own thoughts, he is always ferious and referved; therefore we had better read his works, than hear him speak.

The pedant, puffed up with having paffed all the degrees of his univerfity, deems it a great condefcenfion in himself to converfe with any one that does not underfland his fraps of Greek and Latin, with which all his difcourte is larded; and he makes it a rule always to particularize himself by some opinion, which he maintains with violence; not able to hear any opposition, though ever so well grounded and fupported. Thus his learning becomes tedious and fatiguing; and his company is fhunned by all people of lefs knowledge and more fenfe.

lity to its having been tilled or manured, which, notwithstanding the labour of the husbandman, foon returns to its native barrennels. Such are the wits, who are full of logical arguments; they confume themfelves in deep reafonings, where there is, in reality, but little reafon, and only a fuperficial wit. The scholar thinks learning fufficient to render him witty, and neglects what would really make him fo. But the man of wit thinks he has none, because he wants learning; and therefore, to repair this imagined defect, he endeavours in every thing to enrich the gifts he has received from nature; by which means he often gets the start of the scholar, and always puts him on a footing with him Women could not, he faid, have wit, if there was no title to it without learning; for, generally speaking, they are not fcholars; yet we know many of them who write well, and are endowed with a delicacy of expreffion: and these gifts of nature raise them to the highest pitch.

Therefore, it is not neceflary to be a Grecian, a Latinift, a phyfician, a mathemati. cian, a rhetorician, or a finished philofopher, hiftorian, or divine, in order to be a wit. One may spend whole days of pleafure in the company of a man, whofe natural genius has been cultivated and improv ed; and but a very finall time with an envied fcholar, whofe learning has been hammered into him. The imagination cannot be always on the ftretch after exalted ob jects; it must stoop to reft itself, and return to make native fimplicity, which is the centre of its repofe. And there are to many requifites towards maintaining the title of a fcholar, that when I am fplenetic, I even prefer ignorance to it. In my opinion, he who has a natural and improved genius, fuch as above described, furpaffes the fcholar and the pedant in every thing, and has more wit.

Confequently, the natural genius cultivated, who has neither the ill-humour of the fcholar, nor the dogmatifin of the pedant; a man, whole education has been carried far enough to give an infight into the fciences, who is well read, and blefled with a happy memory, and with thofe has feen the world, as we call it, has the greatest claim to true wit, because he has more wit than the fcholar, and more learning than the pedant. He joins to the beautiful sprightlinefs of convertation, a folidity of judgment. Let the converfation turn to hiftory, or fable, or philofophy, &c, his memory lays before him all he has read; his judgment helps him to quote it apropos: his vivacity enables him to tell it plealingly; and the hippinefs of his genius pires him with a delicacy, and a talte. He underftands all arts, without praeting them: he talks wifely, yet agreeably: he not only retains the words of authors, but he di couries on them with found judgment, and juft remarks. Without making verfes, he understands poetry; and without writing books, he knows which of them are good, and which are bad or why does the hiftogian, the poet, &c, daily leave to the men of wit the determination, whether their books, poems, &c. be worth any thing or not? But, without partiality, I will venture to fay, that the world has more men of wit HIS fcience, peculiarly English, which in it, than true fcholars. The man of learnTthough fafhionable, is not yet licenfed, ing knows the man of wit; and the wit fees and affords an inftance, of the repugnance the faults of the fcholar. Muft we have a that may for a time fubfift between the laws fine voice before we can judge of mufic? and the manners of a nation, was once as Why then may we not have wit without regular an exhibition, as we now fee at any fcholarship? It would be a great misfortune of the places of public amufement, the theto nature, if it was obliged always to have atres alone excepted. It was encouraged by the embellishments of art to make it paffable the firft ranks of the nobility, patronized by in the rational creation. We cultivate the the first subjects in the realm, and tolerated earth, to make it produce with more eafe; but by the magiftrates. Before the eftablishment we do not load it with things to force it to be of Broughton's amphitheatre, a Booth was fruitful. We do not regard the field that.af-erected at Tottenham Court, in which the fords us but one crop in the year, because we know others that do twice as much. The fcholar, without experience, or having feen the world, is like a field that owes its ferti

Modern Hiftory of Boxing.

proprietor, Mr. George Taylor, invited the profeffors of the art to difplay their skill, and the public to be prefent at its exhibition The bruifers then had the reward due to their

prowess,

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