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"Ha! ha!" shouted Vavasour, lifting up his bloody hands. "Enough!-enough!" He flung from the chamber-threw himself again on his panting steed-baffled the hot pursuit of the avengersin disguise and by stealth he reached Scotland, and claimed protection from the Chief of G, with whose blood he bore connexion. Some years afterwards, the name of Walter Vavasour was found among the list of slain, in the cause of Charles Edward at the battle of Culloden.

THE LOVED-ONE'S SLUMBER.

THE struggling beams of winter's sun
Were fading in the cloudy west,
While silently, beloved one,

I hung enamour'd o'er thy rest.

Faint, and more faint breath'd forth the sighs,
Which told my heart the hopes of thine,

While dreamily those rebel eyes

Strove yet to turn and answer mine.
Vain strife! soon fading, ray by ray,
The wearied eyelids closed above,
And dark the shadowy lashes lay,

To curtain out thy looks of love;
Died on thy tongue, by slumber chain'd,
The music of thy voice's tone,
And languidly thy hand remain'd,
Unpress'd, unpressing, in mine own.
I watch'd, I bless'd thee; but my name
No longer forced those lips to part,
And slow the measured breathings came
From that so lately throbbing heart;
Timid I bent-but fear'd to break

The charm that sooth'd thine early woes,
And would have kiss'd—yet dared not wake
The statue-smile of thy repose.

Oh! how I loved thee then! to me,
What was there in the earth or sky-
In rushing stream or spreading tree—
In arbour's perfumed canopy?
What was there in the wanton wing

Of Summer's incense-laden breeze-
What was there in the smile of Spring-
In all that wont my heart to please-
To match that wintry hour, when light
(Too light to break thy sleep profound)
The sun-shower floated, pure and white,
And mantled o'er the frozen ground?
Chill though the night-blast whistled round,
Dark though the mists of evening fell,
I only heard thy breathing's sound,
I only felt I loved thee well!
And since that hour, hath never dream
Of pleasure fill'd my cager breast
(All joyous though my world may seem)
Like that of watching o'er thy rest!

N.

THE PROGRESS OF REFORM.

BY AN OLD REFORMER.*

Anecdotes of Reformers.†

In the latter end of the year 1793, Muir, Palmer, Margarot, and Skirving were conveyed by sea from Scotland to England, and subsequently, in the Surprise transport, with other convicts, to Botany Bay. A subscription having been entered into among the friends of Reform, they were accommodated as cabin passengers on the voyage.

Very shortly after the political exiles had sailed for their place of banishment, a fresh prosecution, of the most awful character, was commenced by Government against another class of democrats, who had rendered themselves conspicuous in London. The leading members of the Corresponding Society, and the Society for Constitutional Information, were apprehended, and after examination by the Privy Council, committed to the Tower on the charge of treason. A few days before his apprehension, I had delivered a letter to Hardy that I had brought from Margarot, and as I conceived that letter-which might have mentioned me-would be found among the papers examined by the Council, I was not without fear that I also might be examined. I was, however, entirely unconnected with the proceedings of the parties, and unacquainted with the persons of any, except Horne Tooke, whom, like Hardy, I had met with only once, and Jeremiah Joyce, in whose company I had happened to be mixed three or four times. One of the occasions on which I had met with Joyce was at the table of Sharpe, the celebrated engraver, and who, as well as Joyce, was a member of the Society for Constitutional Information. Sharpe, who had been one of the visitors of Muir, while the latter was in Newgate, had undertaken to engrave Muir's portrait, which I was to procure-and he, in consequence, invited me to dine with a party of his political friends. Not less than ten or a dozen were present at the dinner; but the Secretary of the Society, Mr. Adams, who had been invited, did not join the party until dinner was over, and three or four glasses of wine had been drunk. The arrival of Adams was hailed with acclamation; for poor Adams, having been dismissed from his clerkship in Somerset House on account of being Secretary to a Democratic Society, was respected by his companions as a martyr. The circumstance of his not joining the party until their spirits were exhilarated and their conversation free, did not excite the least suspicion in their minds; but that, no doubt, was a circumstance he had calculated to turn to his advantage. Adams was soon to appear before them in a different light. He had been dismissed from Somerset House to give him the semblance of a man decried and persecuted by Government, while they were actually employing him to report to them the proceedings of the Society in which he continued secretary.

Hardy was the first of the suspected persons, and, without any warning, was, with all his papers, taken into custody. The others who were arrested being apprised of his situation, if they apprehended a similar fate, had time to destroy such of their papers as they might imagine would be deemed obnoxious. Joyce, with whom I afterwards became intimate, and for whom I never ceased while he lived to entertain respect, informed me of two or three remarkable incidents attendant on his apprehension. He said that, being invited with some other of his political friends to dine with a fellow-member in Spital-square, he had occasion to write to that gentleman, to inquire whether every thing would be ready by a certain day? This inquiry, couched in a phrase deemed ambiguous, having come to the knowledge of Government, Joyce believed to have communicated to them the alarm that some popular explosion was on the eve of bursting, whereas nothing more was meant than to urge the member in question to be

Continued from page 395.

The author of these papers enters into a minute detail of the subsequent adventures of Muir-but as the particulars of his eventful life have been recently published —and as they bear but slightly upon the subject of Reform—it has been considered expedient to omit the account.

ready with some papers he had undertaken to prepare. Before the day alluded to arrived, the whole party were taken into custody. Joyce stated, that in the morning of the day on which he was arrested he was residing in the town-house of Lord Stanhope, to whose sons he was tutor. He was in the act of shaving himself, when a King's messenger was introduced into his room, and told him that he had a warrant to take him into custody. He had nerve sufficiently strong to complete the operation in which he had been engaged, and then proceeded to accompany the messenger to his house, in one of the streets between the Strand and the Thames. Immediately after he and his political friends had undergone the examinations which the Privy Council deemed necessary, they were removed to the Tower, and kept in the constant custody of a warder, without being allowed to communicate with each other, or with any of their private friends. Still, Joyce said, it was not until he was served with a copy of his indictment that he felt alarm. Then, he acknowledged, he began to be in fear, on account of the vague and general terms in which the charges were alleged. Even Horne Tooke, firm and tried as his mind was, was not at that period free from apprehension. He took the precaution to alienate his property, lest the impending process should have an unfavourable issue.

The individuals implicated in the alleged treason were twelve, of whom eleven were in custody-Hardy, Horne Tooke, and Thelwall were reckoned the promi nent parties. Among the others, were Joyce, already described; Kidd, a barrister; Richter, an engraver; and Holcroft, the dramatic writer. Holcroft was the person who had remained at large; but he voluntarily surrendered himself in court on the day of arraignment, and in spite of the judicial officers, who made some formal objections to his surrender, as being without proof of identity, he bravely determined to try the awful issue of the prosecution along with his companions. The arraignment took place at the Old Bailey, in the latter end of October 1794, after which the accused were confined in Newgate, to be in readiness to take their trials. Those who had been arrested, had remained prisoners in the Tower from the middle of the preceding May.

The number and respectability of the accused; the pre-eminent talents of one of them, and the bearings of the investigation on the feelings and fortunes of the friends of freedom generally, gave an interest to the proceedings far exceeding any experienced on former trials in the memory of man. The eyes and ears of the whole nation were directed towards the Old Bailey when the Attorney-General, the present Lord Eldon, made his opening speech on the trial of Hardy, the delivery of which extended to no less than nine hours. Hardy's defence was undertaken by Erskine; and never were the exertions of counsel, in zeal, skill, ability, or splendid eloquence, surpassed by those of the honourable advocate on this occasion. The evidence for the prosecution rested on printed and manuscript papers, and on witnesses, spies of the Crown. The trial lasted several days, during which the public waited for the result with breathless anxiety. Between four and five o'clock, in one of the heaviest rains of the gloomy season, the 5th of November, I was walking along the eastern end of Fleet-street, when I perceived a hackney-coach driving down Ludgate-hill, with several men who had clung behind it, and others running by its side. I conceived at once that Hardy was within it, and was in a few moments convinced by the crowd, that had rushed through Fleet-lane to proclaim the tidings. The populace, during the trial, had entered into the proceedings with considerable spirit. Every evening, the carriage in which Erskine and his colleague Gibbs were conveyed, was drawn by the people from the Old Bailey to Mr. Erskine's house in Serjeant's-inn. Though the inclemency of the day had prevented a large assem blage congregating near the Sessions House, the news of Hardy's acquittal spread through the metropolis with electrical rapidity. The general joy it diffused has seldom or ever been exceeded; it was as heartfelt as extensive; every liberallyminded man appeared to feel himself relieved from some awful danger, and to regard the acquittal of Hardy as the liberation of himself. This feeling was founded, not only on reason but on facts, which time very soon developed. Had Hardy and his associates been convicted, it was, shortly after their trials, under

stood that warrants, previously prepared, would have been served upon hundreds of their abettors, and the spirit of freedom crushed with one blow. But the independence of English juries preserved the country from the threatened calamity. Horne Tooke and Thelwall were successively acquitted, and the triumph of political liberty was complete. The friends of freedom began to breathe, and lift up their heads as in happier times, while the advocates of arbitrary power betrayed their chagrin in their humility. Among the court-lawyers, the defeat accomplished by Erskine, who conducted the defence of all the state-prisoners who were tried, was most severely felt. Immediately after the acquittal of Thelwall, they abandoned the prosecution of the other nine accused, and allowed them their discharge.

The conduct of Hardy on the evening of his acquittal was consistent with the calm consideration and good feeling which he had evinced throughout his trial, and which, combined with the evidence of his inoffensive manners and excellent moral character, had operated so powerfully in his behalf. Inclement as the evening was, he proceeded at once from the place of his former confinement to the grave of his wife, who, in an advanced stage of pregnancy, had, in consequence of her sympathy with his sufferings, died while he was a prisoner in the Tower, and was buried in St. Martin's church-yard.*

While the friends of Government vented their spleen, by bestowing in Parliament on the persons who had been tried the appellation of acquitted felons,

The evening subsequent to his trial, Hardy was sent for by a certain nobleman, who, for some time previous to that crisis, had been forward in promoting the cause of Parliamentary Reform, to gratify his lordship's curiosity relative to the feelings he had experienced during the trying scenes of his long imprisonment and trial, and such other particulars as required explanation in his case. Dr. Moore, the father of the lamented Gen. Moore, and, if recollection be correct, the brother of the nobleman, also were present at the conversation. On Hardy's being about to leave the room, his lordship said to him," Hardy, some friends of mine have joined, with me, in raising a sum of money to relieve you from some of your sufferings, and reinstate you in business. Here is a hundred pounds at your disposal." Hardy heartily thanked his lordship for the generous offer, and modestly replied that he declined accepting it at that precise moment, as he had not then had time to determine where to live, but that, as his friends were active in seeking a situation, he would take the liberty of calling again on his lordship, and avail himself of his liberality, as scon as he had an opportunity of applying it to use. In no long time, a house, in Tavistock-street, was fixed upon for Hardy, to resume his business as a Shoe-maker, and having then, of course, occasion for money, for he had advanced eighty pounds to help to defray the expense of his trial, he went, according to notice, again to his lordship's house, to accept the assistance kindly offered him. When he went, however, his lordship was not at home. A second time he called, and his lordship was not at home. A third-a fourth-and many and other times he called again, but his lordship could still never be found at home. Hardy thus disappointed, and despondent, relinquished the hope of obtaining the proferred aid, and ceased to call at his lordship's. A year or two elapsed, even before he saw the noble lord again. He had occasion to wait one night, in the lobby of the Crown and Anchor Tavern, to see a Member of the Whig Club, which had then been holding a meeting, when his lordship was coming down stairs.-"Ah! Hardy," said his lordship, "I am glad to see you. I have forty pounds to give you, which you may have whenever you call on me." Surprised, as Hardy was, to find the offered hundred pounds reduced to a promised forty, he had the discretion to say, only, that such a sum would then be very acceptable, and that he would avail himself of his lordship's permission to call upon him. Hardy accordingly called, and called again, but his lordship was always invisible. Again tired out, Hardy suspended for some months his personal pursuit, but, having had his hope revived, he resolved to try the effect of a letter. I happening to call at Hardy's shop before he despatched his letter, he requested me to look through it, and make such corrections in it as appeared to me expedient. By these means I became acquainted with the particulars above related, and was rendered anxious as to the result. The letter, it appeared, was despatched, and though care was taken to render it void of offence, it proved as unsuccessful as all the preceding applications. So far as I could learn, some years afterwards, the noble lord never contributed a single penny, much less the forty or the hundred pounds he had offered to Hardy.

the democratic party did not confine within their own breasts the joy and triumph they experienced at the defeat of the Cabinet. Acquiring courage with their victory, they again adventured to assemble publicly, and at Chevening House, Lord Stanhope determined to convene a meeting of his tenants and neighbours, to celebrate the result of the trials. I happened to be at Maidstone when Joyce arrived there, to announce to the Maidstone Whigs his Lordship's intention. Being invited, I accompanied a party of about a dozen to the intended supper, and was received with them by his Lordship with his accustomed courtesy. In due time we were directed to proceed to the great hall, which was illuminated by variegated lamps, arranged in the form of letters to display the Triumph of Juries. The hall was occupied by three or four hundred persons, who were successively addressed by Lord Stanhope and Mr. Joyce in speeches suited to the occasion, and which, of course, were loudly cheered. From the hall, a portion of the company, consisting of about two hundred, were conducted to the supper. This was laid out in a large apartment, tastefully fitted up with lamps and artificial flowers, and which had been formed by throwing two rooms into one. Toasts and songs in unison with the meeting followed the supper, and all was hilarity and happiness. The sitting of the guests, however, was not prolonged; for the first party were requested, after partaking of sufficient refreshment, to give place to the remainder, and return to the hall where they at first assembled. There a band of music was in waiting, and dancing, protracted to a morning hour, concluded the evening festivities.

Though the entertainment, on the whole, was well conducted, it was not well concocted. Except the party from Maidstone, and a few of Joyce's personal connexions, there were none of the whole large assemblage with whom the young ladies of the Stanhope family could with any consistency stand up to dance, or with whom his Lordship could carry on conversation consistent with the occasion. Of the neighbouring gentlemen, not one had been invited; and in London, whence many respectable persons would have gladly gone, the intended meeting was unknown. Yet the object of the noble host was evidently to diffuse the most favourable impressions, although he took some odd modes of producing effects. Much umbrage had been taken at the adoption in England of the republican badges and phrases of the French. It had constituted one of the charges against all the political prisoners who had been tried, but this did not deter his Lordship from their use. When his eldest son, who was then about fourteen years of age, retired to bed, he took him by the hand, and saluted him with-"Good night, Citizen !"*

About six weeks after Lord Stanhope's entertainment, a public meeting, at which his Lordship presided, was held at the Crown and Anchor, to celebrate the result of the State Trials. Sheridan, and some other parliamentary politicians, attended, who, with the chairman and others, addressed the meeting in the order of the day with much animation and effect. The assemblage in the room after dinner was the largest I ever witnessed, consisting, as was calculated, of more than a thousand persons, all parts of the house having been previously filled. The spirits of the party being raised, those who were interested in raising supplies for the political exiles thought the existing circumstances favourable for trying another experiment on the benevolence of democracy, and as all

* Soon after this circumstance, a separation took place between his lordship and my good friend Joyce, who, as the tutor of his sons, had done his duty faithfully, and, as political agent, had served his purpose zealously. For some time, poor Joyce felt sore, on account of the manner in which the separation had been brought about, and probably with reason. Whether that soreness had any tendency to depreciate his lordship's credit as a mechanician, I presume not to decide; but as to his veracity I cannot be lieve it would have any effect. I therefore venture to repeat, what Joyce told me respecting that contrivance, which was exhibited at Chevening, for performing operations in the subtraction, multiplication, and division of figures, by mechanical means, that it was not original. Joyce assured me, that he had seen a description and engraving of a similar machine in an old work, deposited in Dr. Williams's Library, in Red Cross

street.

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