passed, and to say, that if any step was taken to molest me further, or to injure my securities, that I should then be obliged of necessity to vindicate myself by showers of proofs which might not be agreeable. Mr. Dobbs went accordingly to Mr. Cooke, who told him that if the representation I made was true, my bail had nothing to fear, and his advice to me was, to remain quietly where I was without taking any further steps.

It was in the latter end of July that Mr. Forster sailed for Guernsey, from whence he was to proceed to England. And I, finding the party-spirit increasing in the town of Bourdeaux, and considering it my first duty to avoid entering in any manner into the affairs of a country where I was enjoying, by a special exception in my favour, protection and hospitality; and being also desirous of an economical retreat, I retired to the banks of the Dordogne, in the neighbourhood of St. André Cusac, where I spent the remainder of the summer. And so well had I calculated what was about to happen, that the very day after my quitting Bourdeaux a movement took place which cost some lives, but which had no other result. It was during my residence in this retired spot, that I had the misfortune to lose my faithful servant, John Russell, who died of a fever, and was buried in the churchyard of St. Gervais, bearing upon his body to the grave the marks of the torture he had undergone.

The death of this faithful friend, for so I must now call him, was indeed a poignant affliction. With a heart big with anguish, and eyes wet with unfeigned tears, I examined his dead body and contemplated the scars which the lash of his atrocious executioners had inflicted. His gallant and generous spirit was fled to the mansions of eternal rest. He was gone to appear before that judge in whose sight servant and master, lord and peasant, stand in equal degree. If it be the will of that righteous and eternal Judge to confront the guilty with the innocent, what must be the

wretchedness, what the atonement of those vicious men! In the whole course of his services, I had never once opened my mouth to him upon any subject of political concern, and the unvaried and voluntary respect he bore towards me was a law which he had never once transgressed, He was as gentle as he was brave; and the most respectable inhabitants of the commune where he died did not refuse to his memory the tribute of a tear. It was not for many days after that mine ceased to flow; and when again on examining his effects, I perceived in one of his frocks the hole through which the cartridge of the Orangeman in Abbey Street had pierced, that additional token of his magnanimity revived those emotions of grief and sorrow, which my own personal sufferings had never been able to extort.

LETTER XXVI.

Mrs. Sampson-Correspondence-Mr. Merry.

Ar length, in the month of December, for the first time, after a year's incertitude and silence, I received a letter from my wife, which brought me some consolation. She and her children were in good health. My bill had been paid, and this was an essential circumstance, as Mr. Forster had left no instructions to those 'who were charged in his absence with the business of his house, to advance me any further supply; and want again begun to stare me in the face.

Mr. Dubourdieu, my brother-in-law, had, upon hearing of my arrest in Portugal, written to the late marquis of Downshire, entreating him to apply to the

duke of Portland for redress, which he did, and received a written answer, which he transmitted to my brotherin-law, that the duke of Portland, on account of the improper conduct and language of Mr. Sampson in Wales, could not interfere in his behalf. My sister also wrote to Mr. Wickham, who promised to lay her letter before the duke of Portland, but could hold out no hopes of success after the representations already made on the subject. And my wife likewise wrote to this latter gentleman, but received no answer, and enclosed a letter with a request to have it forwarded to me, which it never was.

My sister also applied to lord Castlereagh, through one of the ladies of his family, but with no better effect; for he answered, that I was accused of attempting to corrupt the minds of some people in a fishing town in Wales, where I was wrecked. If there be facts in nature which are beyond all comment, or which stand in need of none, these are they. When it is considered that I was at this time to pass through the secret dungeons of the Inquisition, from which the issue is not easy;-when it is considered that I had, through reliance on the good faith of the government, of the king, lords, and commons of Ireland, delivered myself up into their hands;-that I had, for my entire protection and guarantee, the passports of those very ministers, who were in every sense bound to be my protectors, if any tie of honour, or any notion of those principles upon which society can alone be supported, and which are sacred even among barbarians, remained; then, let me ask, upon what ground the English government now stands? or what it is that secures the liberty, the property, or the person of any individual? Why shall not what has been practised against me be practised against others? Before I condescended to make any agreement I was locked up in solitude for many months, in vain demanding a trial. My servant had been tortured in vain to extort an accusation against me. And when I, relying upon

lord Cornwallis, consented to terms, from motives too pure to be discussed with such men, those terins had been most basely and most falsely violated. At first I was suspected of treasonable practices, because I would have resisted murder and torture; for I defy any man to name any other treason I have committed. And again, I was accused of corrupting the people of a country where my misfortunes and a cruel persecution had driven me, and where I never had any communication that could give the slightest sanction to such a charge. The day may come when the measure of these crimes may be full and run over. My character has triumphed over every attack. Alas, what would my enemies appear, were they put to their defence! Perhaps that moment when oppressed and insulted humanity may recalcitrate, is not far off: until then the enemies of England may triumph in her abject state. It is every thing that her enemies can wish; and they need by no means despair to see the same manacles, the same bloody whips, and instruments of torture, the use of which has been indemnified in Ireland, used also and indemnified in England. Oh failen Englishmen! when you could bear to hear of indemnified torture in Ireland, you were from that moment prepared for the yoke yourselves. The bulwarks of your liberty, generosity, and honesty were gone. It was but a small step to make; and torture, it will be argued, is not an unfit regimen for those who can consent to the torture of their fellow-men. But let me return from this unprofitable digression, and hasten to conclude a story too pregnant with disagreeable conclusions.

My wife, after a great length of time, wrote to the duke of Portland a letter, which it is right I should transcribe. It will be for him whose heart is not lost to virtue, and whose best feelings are not drowned in the habitual profligacy of the times, to appreciate her sorrows and my wrongs.

passed, and to say, that if any step was taken to molest me further, or to injure my securities, that I should then be obliged of necessity to vindicate my. self by showers of proofs which might not be agreeable. Mr. Dobbs went accordingly to Mr. Cooke, who told him that if the representation I made was true, my bail had nothing to fear, and his advice to me was, to remain quietly where I was without taking any further steps.

It was in the latter end of July that Mr. Forster sailed for Guernsey, from whence he was to proceed to England. And I, finding the party-spirit increasing in the town of Bourdeaux, and considering it my first duty to avoid entering in any manner into the affairs of a country where I was enjoying, by a special exception in my favour, protection and hospitality; and being also desirous of an economical retreat, I retired to the banks of the Dordogne, in the neighbourhood of St. André Cusac, where I spent the remainder of the summer. And so well had I calculated what was about to happen, that the very day after my quitting Bourdeaux a movement took place which cost some lives, but which had no other result. It was during my residence in this retired spot, that I had the misfortune to lose my faithful servant, John Russell, who died of a fever, and was buried in the churchyard of St. Gervais, bearing upon his body to the grave the marks of the torture he had undergone.

The death of this faithful friend, for so I must now call him, was indeed a poignant affliction. With a heart big with anguish, and eyes wet with unfeigned tears, I examined his dead body and contemplated the scars which the lash of his atrocious executioners had inflicted. His gallant and generous spirit was fled to the mansions of eternal rest. He was gone to appear before that judge in whose sight servant and master, lord and peasant, stand in equal degree. If it be the will of that righteous and eternal Judge to confront the guilty with the innocent, what must be the