mortally wounded. The Spanish frigates, shattered with shot and shell, could no longer resist they struck their flags. The British, ever mistress of the seas, were victorious, and seized their prizes. There is a most remarkable tale emerging out of this, which we are persuaded will further excite the astonishment of our readers; but before giving it, we must beg respectfully to direct their calm attention to the following original authentic letter from one of the British officers engaged in that battle, and written very soon after it was over, to one of his friends in Scotland, and published in the Edinburgh Advertiser of June, 1797: HIS MAJESTY'S SHIP "IRRESISIBLE," AT ANCHOR, OFF CADIZ, 28th April, 1797. On the 26th instant, lying off here, saw two strange ships standing for the harbour; made sail after them with the "Emerald" frigate in company, and, after a chase of eight hours, they got an anchor in one of their own ports-in Canille Bay. We brought them to action at two in the afternoon. We anchored abreast of them, one mile from the shore, and continued a glorious action till four, when the Spanish colours were struck on board, and on shore, and under their own towns and harbours. Our opponents were two of the finest frigates in the Spanish service, and two of the richest ships taken during this war. A viceroy and his suite, and a number of general officers, were on board one of them. I am sorry to say that, after they struck, the finest frigate ran on shore. We, however, got her off at twelve at night; but from the shot she received she sunk at three in the morning, with all her riches, which was a sore sight to me, especially as I had been on board her. We arrived here with our other prize, and are landing our prisoners. Among the sufferers on the Spanish side is Mr. Thomas Muir, who made so wonderful an escape from Botany Bay to the Havannah. He was one of five killed on board the Nymph by the last shot fired by us. The officer at whose side he fell is at my hand, and says he behaved with courage to the last. But Thomas Muir was not killed on this remarkable occasion. The most singular, the most providential of all occurrences about him again took place. No story can exceed in fiction what we are now about truthfully to relate. It so happened that another British officer, different in rank from the writer of the above letter, was engaged in that same battle, and had boarded the Spanish frigate in which Muir lay, and was in the very act of giving orders to his marines to pitch the killed or the dead overboard, with leaden bullets in their pockets to sink them down to their watery grave. As if by a miracle-by the finger of a higher Power-this British officer was attracted to the spot where lay the bleeding body of Muir, whose once comely face was now wofully disfigured with its own gore. He had been struck by a ball, and the side of his face was nearly shot away; so, turning him gently over on his back, preparatory to his last final pitch into the sea as his almost certain grave, the small pocket Bible which his parents had given to him at Leith, in the way we formerly mentioned, fell out from one of his pockets and lay beside him on the bloody deck. The British officer last alluded to, in a state of momentary curiosity, snatched up the little book, to look at it and see what it really was. Muir's sinking eyes then opened; he heaved a deep and piteous sigh-clasped his feeble hands together, and moved his mangled head, which convinced the British officer that though mortally wounded he was not yet actually dead. He stooped down to view better the wounded man lying thus ghastly at his feet; and refolding some of the pages, and looking particularly at the tattered front page of that small book, this British officer, so employed and so engaged, became convulsed and nearly overwhelmed with emotion, for he discovered from the written inscription upon it that the man in this terrible and deplorable state was none other than Thomas Muir, who had actually been one of his first and earliest friends and companions in the College of Glasgow, and of whose horrible sentence he on his naval station had previously heard with something like a shudder. In this most unexpected and woful extremity, this brave British officer, reflecting for a moment on his own position-for he might, with others of his officers and men, easily have secured Muir as his prisoner, and carried him in that capacity to England, where probably he would have found rapid promotion at head-quarters for so doing-yet he allowed the more generous and lofty feelings of nature at once to guide and direct him: and so, like the faithful friend, ever true under all circumstances, or rather like the good Samaritan immortalised elsewhere, he proceeded to quench the bloody gore and to bind up the gashes of Muir's frightful wounds; and this done, our brave British officer, calling a few of his men together, complacently ordered them to get ready their first pinnace, with a flag of truce, and to carry ashore as gently and expeditiously as possible this bleeding man, with an urgent request to the Spanish authorities to pay immediate and particular attention to him as one of their own wounded. "Roll on, thou deep and dark-blue Ocean-roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain. He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, Without a grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown." The safe transit of Thomas Muir to the Spanish shore was accomplished. The other results of that battle need not be told. But this we may remark, that had this generous officer acted differently, and disclosed the name of Muir, and had him transmitted as a prisoner caught in battle, to England, he might have endured a still more terrible death in this country, such was the temper of the law, and the disposition of the times; for it must be remembered, his original sentence expressly bore, that if he was found at large within the period of that sentence, he should suffer DEATH. He was now, however, once more beyond the reach of his enemies. At Cadiz he could scarcely speak from the terrible state of his wounds; but strange to say, by some means or other, his extraordinary escape and arrival at Cadiz was speedily communicated to the French Directory at Paris, to some of whose members he was personally known; for it will also be remembered, that when he first visited Paris in 1792, the greatest attention and respect was there shown to him. To the honour, we will say, of the French Directory, including its First President, the great NAPOLEON, a French messenger was instantly despatched to Cadiz, to see that every attention was paid to Thomas Muir, and the recovery of his wounds. At last he revived, and was able to write; for we find, that on the 14th of August, 1797, he addressed the following to M. Paine, one of the distinguished members of the French Directory: CADIZ, August 14, 1797. DEAR FRIEND,-Since the memorable evening on which I took leave of you at St. Cloud, my melancholy and agitated life has been a continued series of extraordinary events. I hope to meet you again in a few months. Contrary to my expectation, I am at last nearly cured of my numerous wounds. The Directory have shown me great kindness. Their solicitude for an unfortunate being who has been so cruelly oppressed, is a balm of consolation which revives my drooping spirits. The Spaniards detain me as a prisoner because I am a Scotchman. But I have no doubt that the intervention of the Directory of the Great Republic will obtain my liberty. Remember me most affectionately to all my friends, who are the friends of liberty and mankind.-I remain, dear sir, yours ever, THOMAS MUIR. In the month of September immediately following, he had the great gratification to receive another special message from the Government of France, not only offering to confer upon him all the privileges of a free citizen, but generously inviting him to come to Paris, and spend the remainder of his life in the bosom of the French Nation. The Government of France at the same time made a formal application to the Government of Spain to restore Thomas Muir at once to his personal freedom in that kingdom, and, besides, to afford him every facility on his journey to France-which was done. He arrived at Bourdeaux early in the month of December following. The municipal authorities of the city received him with cordial demonstrations of honour and respect. They invited him to a splendid public banquet, at which the Mayor of Bourdeaux presided (4th December, 1797). It was attended by upwards of 500 enthusiastic citizens, including the American Consul there stationed; and with enthusiastic and most friendly bumpers the health of Thomas Muir was given as "the brave young Scottish Advocate, emancipated from his trials, his perils, and his toils, and now the adopted citizen of France." We are told that Muir fainted away in the arms of the American Consul, sitting beside him: such was the emotion of his then agitated heart-agitated in a manner impossible to be described; but the plain narrative of some of these events may afford some glimmerings of it. He, however, reached Paris by slow and easy stages on |