Things were in this situation, when their respective families removed for the winter reason to London, and with them a young Baronet by the name of Thorpe. Leontine had long contracted an intimate friendship with him, and his merit was equal to the sweetness of his manners. The union there was between them introduced an acquaintance between Sir EdwardThorpe and Belinda: Leontinewas not displeased at their acquaintance; but, on the contrary, took a delight to promote it. The Baronet had observed him several times in froward fits, and though Leontine kept no secrets from him, yet he was so ashamed of his foolish imaginations, that he could not let him know them. He came in one day to see Belinda, when Leontine had been as extravagant as ever upon a new subject of jealousy, which was Belinda's permitting an elderly officer's handing her into her coach from the play. She was willing to shame him, and, without giving him time to prevent her, told Sir Edward the occasion of his disturbance. He seemed astonished, and thought it so groundless, and reproached him for it so severely, that he cut him to the heart. Leontine imagined from the manner of his friend's censuring him, that he had been pre-instructed by Belinda. He saw that himself had exceeded the bounds of reason, but still conceived he ought not to be condemned absolutely, at least by one who was in love with Belinda; for he imagined Sir Edward was so himself, and had been for some time. He fancied also Belinda was sufficiently aware that Sir Edward's regard to her was something more than friendship, and that, according to the common infirmity of women, she was not ill pleased at it. When alone, this new misfortune he had incurred appeared to him infinitely beyond any of his former, and that he ought to dread Sir Edward on every account. He was graceful, and Belinda had a great esteem and friendship for him; she saw him often; she seemed to unburthen herself to him, and insensibly admit him into the place he had possessed in her heart. In short, he was more in pain concerning Sir Edward than he had ever been on any other account; he knew, indeed, he was in love with another, and had been for a long while; but she was so inferior to Belinda, that he could have no security from that passion. At length he could not refrain breaking this matter also to the amiable lady, who in the greatest surprise turned away from him without speaking a word, and, passing into her closet, locked the door. She refused to open it, notwithstanding all his intreaties, and he was forced to return home in such confusion and despair, that he was shortly taken very ill. He was convinced, but too late, of the injustice he had done his friend, who now came to see him in his distress; he conjured him to forgive him, and to endeavour to move Belinda's heart to pardon and pity him. Sir Edward went to her house, and was told she could not be seen; be called there again every day while his friend lay ill, but equally in vain. As soon as Leontine was able to walk, he went thither himself, and had the same answer; and the second time was desired to come no more, for she would not see him. When he found there was no hope, he thought he should have expired; and all the consolation left him, was to go and pass the night sometimes under her window; but never had the pleasure to see it opened. She lived in one of the outlets of Grosvenor-square, and one night, as he was returning home, he heard her window open distinctly. He returned in an instant, and imagined he saw Belinda, but as he approached, perceived a man creeping up close to the wall under the window, as if he would conceal himself. He knew not how, but in spite of the darkness of the night, he thought it was Sir Edward Thorpe. This made him frantic; for he now believed Belinda loved him, that he was come hither to talk with her, that she opened the window for him, and that it was to him he owed her loss. In this agitation he drew, and they began to fight with fury. Leontine found he had wounded him in two places, but he continued to defend himself. At the noise of their swords, or by Belinda's orders, some came out of the house to part them. Sir Edward knew his friend by the light of the torches; he started back some paces, and Leontine advanced to seize his sword, but he dropped it, and with a feeble voice, "Is it you, Leontine," said he, and is it possible I should be unfortunate enough to engage with you ?"-“ Traitor,” cried Leontine," it is I who will take away your life; for you deprive me of Belinda, and pass the nights at her window, which is close shut to me." veral streets, stopped where you discovered me, not knowing it was Belinda's house. |, This is the truth, my dear Leontine; I conjure you not to afflict yourself for my death; I forgive you with my whole heart," continued he, holding out his arms to embrace him; "when, his spirits failing, he sunk down in their hands who supported him" Sir Edward, who was leaning against the wall, not having strength to stand, looked on Leontine with eyes full of tears: "I am very unhappy," said he, "always to make you uneasy; but I have this comfort under my cruel destiny, that I lose my life by your hand. I am dying, and the condition I am in, ought to satisfy you of the truth of my words: I swear to you I never had a thought of Belinda which could give you offence. The love I had to ano. | ther, and which I did not hide from you, brought me out to night; I thought I was watched; I thought I was pursued; I rau very fast, and having turned through se Words cannot express what Leontine then conceived, and the rage he had against himself. Several times he attempted to run himself through with his sword, but was led off by Belinda's father's servants, who put him safe into his own father's hands; and he, that very night, to avoid the pursuit of justice, sent him under a sufficient guard to Germany, recommended to the King of Prussia. Belinda left town instantly, and, ever after a stranger to love, lived sequestered in the country. THE MILLER JURYMAN. two sons. A GENTLEMAN of about 5001. per annum, in lands, in the eastern part of England, had' The eldest was of a rambling disposition; he took a place in a ship, and went abroad; after several years his father died. The younger son destroyed his father's will, and seized upon the estate. He gave out that his elder brother was dead, and bribed some false witnesses to attest the truth of the report. In course of time the elder brother returned home in miserable circumstances. His younger brother repulsed him with scorn; told him that he was an impostor and a cheat; and asserted that his real brother died long ago, and he could bring witnesses to prove it. with my eyes open." Accordingly he entered au action against the younger brother, and it was agreed to be tried at the next general assizes at Chelmsford, in Essex. The lawyer having thus engaged in the cause of the poor man, and stimulated by the prospect of obtaining a thousand guineas, set his wits to work to contrive the best methods to gain his end. At last he hit upon this happy thought, that he would consult the first of all the Judges, Lord Chief Justice Hale. Accordingly he went to London, and laid open all the circumstances. The Judge, who was a great lover of justice, heard the case attentively and patiently, and promised him all the assistance in his power. It is probable he opened his whole scheme, and intended method of proceeding, enjoining the utmost secrecy. This was in the reign of King Charles II. about the year 1668. The poor man, having neither money nor friends, was in a dismal situation. He went round the parish making bitter complaints, and at last he came to a lawyer, who, when he heard the mournful story, replied in this manner: "you have nothing to give; if I undertake your cause, and lose it, it will bring me into disgrace, as all the wealth and evidence is on your brother's side. But, however, I will undertake it upon condition that you give a bond to pay me a thousand guineas if gain the estate for you. If I lose it, I one occupied by a miller. After some couknow the consequence, and I venture upon it || versation, and making himself quite agree The Judge ordered matters so as to have finished all his business at the King's Bench before the assizes commenced at Chelmsford, and was conveyed down very near that town. He dismissed his servants and horses, and sought out for a single house: he found able, he proposed to the master to chauge clothes with him. As the Judge had a very good suit on, the man had no reason to object. Accordingly the Judge shifted himself from top to toe, and put on a complete suit of the miller's best. Armed with the miller's hat, shoes, and stick, away he marches to Chelmsford. He procured lodgings to his liking, and waited for the assizes that were to come on the next day. When the trials began he sauntered about the county hall like an ignorant country. fellow. He had all his eyes about him, and when the court began to fill be soon found out the poor fellow that was the plaintiff. As soon as he came into the hall the miller accosted him:-"Honest friend," said he, "how is your cause likely to go to-day?" "Why," replied the plaintiff, "my cause is in a very precarious situation, and if I lose it, I am ruined for life."-" Well," replied the miller, "will you take my advice? I will let you into a secret which perhaps you do not know: every Englishman has the right and a privilege to except against any one juryman of the whole twelve: now, do you insist on your privilege, without giving any reason; and, if possible, get me chosen in his stead, and I will do you all the service in my power.” Accordingly, when the clerk called over the jurymen, the plaintiff excepted to one of them by name; the judge on the bench was highly offended at this liberty. "What do you mean by excepting to that gentleman?"-"I mean, my Lord, to assert my privilege as an Englishman, without giving a reason why." The Judge, who had been deeply bribed, in order to conceal it by a show of candour, and having a confidence in the superiority of his party, said, “Well, Sir, as you claim your privilege in one instance, I will grant you a favour; who would you wish to have in the room of the man you objected to?" After some consideration, "my Lord," said he, “I wish to have an honest man chosen in,” and looking round the court, "my Lord, there is a miller; we will have him, if you please." Accordingly the miller was chosen. As soon as the clerk had administered to all of them their oaths, a little dexterous fellow came into the apartment and sliped ten Carolus's into the hands of eleven jurymen, and gave the miller only five. He observed they were all bribed as well as himself, and said to his neighbour, in a whisper, “How much have you got?"—" Ten pieces," replied he. He concealed what he had himself. The cause was opened by the plaintiff's counsel, and all No. XLV.—Vol. VI. | || || the scraps of evidence they could pick up, were adduced in his tavour The younger brother was provided with a great number of evidences and pleaders, all plentifully bribed as well as the Judge. The evidences deposed that they were in the same county the brother died in, and saw him buried. The counsellors pleaded upon this accumulated evidence, and every thing went with a tide in favour of the younger brother. - The Judge summed up the evidence with great gravity and deliberation :~" And now, gentlemen of the jury," said he, "lay your heads together, and bring in your verdict as you shall deem just," They wailed but a few minutes before they determined in favour of the younger brother. The Judge said, "Gentlemen, are you agreed, and who shall speak for you?"-"We are agreed, my Lord," replied one, our foremau shall speak for us." we "Hold, my Lord," replied the miller, 66 are not all agreed."-" Why," says the Judge, in a very surly manner, "what is the matter with you? what reasons have you for disagrees ing?"-"I have several reasons, my Lord,” replied the miller; "the first is, they have given each of these gentlemen of the jury ten broad pieces of gold, and to me but five; besides, I have many objections to make to the false reasonings of the pleaders, and the contradictory evidence of the witnesses.” Upon this the miller began a discourse that discovered such vast penetration, such extensive knowledge of the law, expressed with such energetic and mauly eloquence, as astonished the Judge and the whole court. As he was going on, the Judge, in astonishment, stopped him-"Where did you come from, and what are you?" "I came from Westminster-hall," replied the miller, "my name is Matthew Hale; I am Lord Chief Justice of the King's Bench. I have observed the iniquity of your proceedings this day; and, therefore, come down from a seat which you are in no wise worthy to hold. You are one of the corrupt parties in this iniquitous business. I will go up this moment, and try the cause all over again ” Accordingly, Sir Matthew went up with his miller's dress and hat on; began the trial from its original; searched every circumstance of truth and falsehood, evinced the elder brother's title to the estate from the contradictory evidence of the witnesses, and the false reasonings of the pleaders; unravelled all the sophistry to the very bottom, and gained a complete victory in favour of truth and justice. TOTAL ECLIPSE OF THE SUN. ACCOUNT OF THE LAST TOTAL ECLIPSE OF THE SUN, WHICH WAS VISIBLE IN LONDON. AN eclipse of the sun is caused by the interposition of the moon between the sun and the spectator, or by the shadow of the moon falling on the earth at the place of the observer. As there are not many persons who have an opportunity of seeing a total eclipse of the sun, we shall here give the phenomena which attended that on April 22, 1715.-Captain Stannyan, a Berne, in Switzerland, says, "The sun was totally dark for four minutes and a half; that a fixed star and planet appeared very bright; and that its getting out of the eclipse was preceded by a blood-red streak of light from its left limb, which continued not longer than six or seven seconds of time; then part of the sun's disk appeared, all of a sudden, as bright as Venus was ever 'seen in the night; nay, brighter, and at that very instaut gave a light and shadow to things, as strong as moon light used to do." The inference drawn from these phenomena is, that the moon has an atmosphere. At Geneva there was seen during the whole time of the total immersion, a whiteness which seemed to break out from behind the moon, and to encompass it on all sides equally; its breadth was not the twelfth part of the moon's diameter. Venus, Saturn, and Mercary were seen by many; and if the sky had been clear, many more stars might have been scen, and with them Jupiter and Mars. Some gentlewomen in the country saw more than sixtecu stars; and many people on the mountains saw the sky starry, in some places where it was not overcast, as during the night at the time of the full moon. The duration of the total darkness was three minutes. At Zurich, both planets and fixed stars were seen; the birds went to roost, the bats came out of their holes, and the fish swam about; a manifest sense of cold was experienced, and the dew fell on the grass. The total darkness lasted four minutes. Dr. Halley, who observed this eclipse at London, has given the phenomena attending it as follows, prefacing his account thus :-"Though it be certain, from the principles of astronomy, that there happens necessarily a central eclipse of the sun, in some part or other of the terraqueous globe, about twentyeight times in each period of eighteen years; and that of these no less than eight pass over the parallel of London, three of those eight are total with continuance; yet, from the great variety of the elements whereof the calculus of eclipses consists, it has so happened that since March 20, 1140, I cannot find that there has been a total eclipse of the sun seen at London, though, in the mean time, the shade of the moon has often passed over other parts of Great Britain." He then proceeds: it "It was universally observed, that when the last part of the sun remained on its east side, grew very faint, and was easily supportable by the naked eye, even through the telescope, for a minute of time before the total darkness; whereas my eye could not endure the splendour of the emerging beams in the telescope from the first moment. To this, perhaps, two causes concurred; the one, that the pupil of the eye did necessarily dilate itself during the darkness, which before had been much contracted by looking on the sun; the other, that the eastern part of the moon,, having been heated by a day as long as thirty of ours, must, of necessity, have that part of its atmosphere replete with vapours, raised by the long-continued action of the sun; and, by consequence, it was more dense nearer the moon's surface, and more capable of ob structing the lustre of the sun's beams. Whereas, at the same time, the western edge of the moon had suffered as long a night, during which time there might fall in dens all the vapours that were raised in the preceding long day; and for this reason, that part of its atmosphere might be seen much more pure and transparent. "About two minutes before the total immersion, the remaining part of the sun was reduced to a very fine horn, whose extremities seemed to lose their acuteness, and to become round like stars. And for the space of about a quarter of a minute, a small piece of the southern horn of the eclipse seemed to be cut off from the rest hy a good interval, and appeared like an oblong star round at both ends; which appearance could proceed from no other cause but the inequalities of the moon's sur face, there being some elevated parts thereof near the moon's southern pole, by which interposition part of that exceedingly fine filament of light was intercepted. "A few seconds before the sun was totally hidden, there discovered itself round the f that one might have expected to have seen moon a luminous ring, about a digit, or perhaps a tenth part of the moon's diameter in breadth. It was of a pale whiteness, or rather pearl colour, seeming to me a little tinged with the colours of the iris, and to be concentric with the moon, whence I judged it was the moon's atmosphere. But whatever it was, this ring appeared much whiter and brighter near the body of the moon than at a distance from it; and its outward circumference, which was ill defined, seemed terminated only by the extreme rarity of the matter it was composed of; and in all respects resembled the appearance of an enlighted atmosphere viewed from afar: but whether it belonged to the sun or the moou I cannot undertake to decide. more stars than were seen in London; the planets Jupiter, Mercury, and Venus, were all that were seen by the gentlemen of the society, from the top of their house, where they had a clear horizon; and I did not hear that any one in town saw more than Capella and Aldebaran, of the fixed stars. Nor was the light of the ring round the moon capable of effacing the lustre of the stars, for it was vastly inferior to that of the full moon, and so weak that I did not observe it cast a shade. But the under parts of the hemisphere, particularly in the south-east, under the sun, had a crepuscular brightness; and all round us, so much of the, segment of our atmosphere as was above the horizon, and was without the cone of the moon's shadow, was more or less enlightened by the sun's beams; and its reflection gave a diffused light, which made the air seem hazy, and hindered the appearance of the stars. And that this was the real cause thereof, is manifest by the darkness of the night being more perfect in those places near which the centre of the shadow passed, where many more stars were seen, and in some not less than twenty, though' the light of the ring was to all alike. "During the whole time of the total eclipse I kept my telescope constantly fixed on the moon, in order to observe what might occur in this uncommon appearance, and I saw perpetual flashes or coruscations of light, which seemed for a moment to dart out from behind, now here, now there, on all sides, but espe cially on the western side, a little before the immersion; and about two or three seconds before it, on the same western side, where the sun was just coming out, a long and very narrow streak of dusky, but strong red light, seemed to colour the dark edge of the moon, though nothing like it had been seen imme-sible, and equally judges; or the concern which diately after the immersion. But this instant ly vanished on the first appearance of the sun, as did also the aforesaid luminous ring. "As to the degree of darkness, it was such "I forbear to mention the chill and damp with which the darkness of this eclipse yas attended, of which most spectators were sen appeared in all sorts of animals, beasts, birds, and fishes, upon the extinction of the sun, since ourselves could not behold it without some sense of horror." A LOVER ENTANGLED BY HIMSELF. THE Rev. Jeremiah White, one of Oliver || meaning of that proceeding. Master White, Cromwell's domestic chaplains, and one of with great presence of mind, said, “May it the chief wits of the court, was so ambiti-please your Highness, I have a long while ous as to pay his addresses to the Lady Frances, Oliver's youngest daughter. The lady did not discourage him; but in so religious a court this gallantry could not be carried on without being taken notice of. The Protector was told of it, and was much displeased: he ordered the informer to keep a strict watch, promising to reward him if he could prove his assertions. In a short time the spy dogged his reverence to the lady's chamber, and ran directly to the Protector, to acquaint him that they were together. Oliver hastened to the chamber, and suddenly entering, caught the gentleman on his knees, kissing the lady's hand. Oliver, in a rage, asked what was the || courted that young gentlewoman there, my lady's attendant, and cannot prevail; I was therefore humbly praying her ladyship to intercede for me." The Protector, turning to the young woman, cried, "What is the meaning of this, hussy? why do you refuse the honour Mr. White would do you? he is my friend, and I expect you would treat him as such." My lady's woman, who desired nothing more, replied, with a very low courtesy, "If Mr. White intends me that honour, I shall not be against him."-"Sayest thou so, my lass,” cried Cromwell; "call Godwyn, this business shall be done presently, before I go out of the room." Mr. White was gone too |