to the adherence to the Royal party, the cause of my confinement is the narrowness of my estate; for none stand committed, whose estate can bail them: I only am the prisoner, who have no acres to be my hostage. Now, if my poverty be criminal, (with reverence be it spoken,) I must implead your Highness, whose victorious arms have reduced me to it, as accessary to my guilt. Let it suffice, my Lord, that the calamity of the war hath made us poor; do not punish us for it. Whoever did penance for being ravished? Is it not enough that we are stript so bare, but it must be made an order to a severe lash? Must our scars be engraven with new wounds? Must we first be made cripples, then beaten with our crutches? Poverty, if it be a fault, is its own punishment: who suffers for it more, pays use upon use. I beseech your Highness, put some bounds to our overthrow, and do not pursue the chase to the other world. Can your thunders be levelled so low as our grovelling conditions? Can that towering spirit, that hath quarried upon kingdoms, make a stoop at us who are the rubbish of those ruins? Methinks I hear your former achievements interceding with you not to sully your glories with trampling on the prostrate, nor clog the wheels of your chariot with so degenerous a triumph. The most renowned heroes have ever with such tenderness cherished their captives, that their swords did but cut out work for their courtesy: those that fell by their prowess sprung up by their favours, as if they had struck them down, only to make them rebound the higher. I hope your Highness, as you are the rival of their fame, will be no less of their virtues. The noblest trophy that you can erect to your honour, is to raise the afflicted. And, since you have subdued all opposition, it now remains that you attack yourself, and with acts of mildness vanquish your victory. It is not long since, my Lord, that you knocked off the shackles from most of our party, and, by a grand release, did spread your clemency as large as your territories. Let not new proscriptions interrupt our jubilee. Let not that your lenity be slandered as the ambush of your further rigour: for the service of his Majesty, (if it be objected,) I am so far from excusing it, that I am ready to allege it in my vindication. I cannot conceive fidelity to my prince should taint me in your opinion; I should rather expect it should recommend me to your favour. Had not we been faithful to our King, we could not have given ourselves to be so to your Highness: you had then trusted us gratis, whereas now we have our former loyalty to vouch us. You see, my Lord, how much I presume upon the greatness of your spirit, that dare prevent my indictment with so frank a confession, especially in this, which I may so justly deny, that it is almost arrogancy in me to own it; for the truth is, I was not qualified enough to serve him: all that I could do was, to bear a part in his sufferings, and give myself up to be cherished in his fall. Thus my charge is double, my obedience to my Sovereign, and, what is the result of that-my want of a fortune. Now, whatever reflections I have on the former, I am a true penitent for the latter. My Lord, you see my crimes! As to my defence, you bear it about you! I shall plead nothing in my justification but your Highness' clemency, which, as it is the constant inmate of a valiant breast, if you graciously please to extend it to your supplicant in taking me out of this withering, durance, your Highness will find that mercy will establish you more than power, though all the days of your life were as pregnant with victories as your twice auspicious third of September. "Your Highness' humble and submissive petitioner, J. C." MISS SEWARD'S ENIGMA. A FEW years ago, the newspapers amused the public with publishing an enigma, which we were assured was composed by Miss Seward, and found in her will, with directions to her executors to pay £50 to the person who should discover the true solution. The unmeaning puzzle immediately set the small wits, who indulge in such trifles, at work, and the periodical journals and newspapers teemed with answers. The enigma stating that the solution would give the name of an ancient and renowned city, all the classical towns of any note that could be thought of were fixed upon for the identical one meant. Persepolis was a favourite city with more than one Edipus. Others contended that Hecatompylos was the lucky town. Some were for Heliopolis; Alexandria had a few adherents, and Athens was mentioned; others took a sudden leap down the tide of age, and descended at once to Rheims and Wirtemberg; while an arch wit wrote a most elaborate essay, to prove that the words "ancient city" had been substituted for "ancient thoroughfare," and that the subject of the enigma was actually "MUTTON LANE." When competition for the prize, or the complaisance of editors, was exhausted, it was discovered, that the enigma was but a curtailed copy of a rebus published in the "Gentleman's Magazine," in March, 1757. It was then attributed to Lord Chesterfield, and could scarcely have been the production of the lady named, as she was at that time only ten years of age. The following is a copy of the original bagatelle: "The noblest object in the works of art; The brightest scenes which Nature can impart; A contract made before the nuptial tie; A blessing, riches never can supply; A spot that adds new charms to pretty faces; ANAGRAMS AND ACROSTICS. ONE "Mistress Mary Fage," who flourished in the time of Charles I., was, perhaps, the most prolific anagrammatist England ever produced. She published a whole book of anagrams and acrostics, under the title of "Fame's Rowle," in which the names of the King and Queen, and all the Dukes, Marquesses, Earls, Viscounts, Bishops, Barons, Privy Counsellors, Knights of the Garter, and Judges of the three kingdoms of England, Scotland, and Ireland, to the number of no less than four hundred and twenty, are |