of The Tapestried Chamber. She had for several years been accustomed to pour forth her verses among a party of poets of quality who thus amused themselves under the auspices of Lady Miller, and whose bantlings were printed in four volumes in 1781 as Poetical Amusements at a Villa near Bath. Walpole so inimitably describes the whole assembly that we will trespass a little to give their account in his own words :— “You must know, Madam that near Bath is erected a new Parnassus, composed of three laurels, a myrtle-tree, a weeping-willow, and a view of the Avon, which has been new-christened Helicon. Ten years ago there lived a Madam Riggs, an old rough humourist who passed for a wit; her daughter, who passed for nothing, married to a Captain Miller, full of good-natured officiousness. These good folks were friends of Miss Rich, who carried me to dine with them at Batheaston, now Pindus. They caught a little of what was then called taste, built and planted, and begot children, till the whole caravan were forced to go abroad to retrieve. Alas! Mrs. Miller is returned a beauty, a genius, a Sappho, a tenth Muse, as romantic as Mademoiselle Scuderi, and as unsophisticated as Mrs. Vesey. The Captain's fingers are loaded with cameos, his tongue runs over with virtu, and that both may contribute to the improvement of their own country, they have introduced bouts-rimés as a new discovery. They hold a Parnassus-fair every Thursday, give out rhymes and themes, and all the flux of quality at Bath contend for the prizes. A Roman vase dressed with pink ribbons and myrtles receives the poetry, which is drawn out every festival; six judges of these Olympic games retire and select the brightest compositions, which the respective successful acknowledge, kneel to Mrs. Calliope Miller, kiss her fair hand, and are crowned by it with myrtle, with I don't know what. You may think this is fiction, or exaggeration. Be dumb, unbelievers! The collection is printed, published. - Yes, on my faith, there are bouts-rimés on a buttered muffin, made by her Grace the Duchess of Northumberland; receipts to make them by Corydon the venerable, alias George Pitt; others very pretty by Lord Palmerston; some by Lord Carlisle; many by Mrs. Miller herself, that have no fault but wanting metre; and immortality promised to her without end or measure. In short, since folly which never ripens to madness but in this hot climate, ran distracted, there never was anything so entertaining or so dull-for you cannot read so long as I have been telling."

Under such friendly auspices Miss Seward wrote her Monody on André, a poem of considerable merit, which has possessed greater popularity than any other of her writings and has gone through numerous editions. Its objurgations of Washington were regarded as just censure by many of her admirers, who considered his reputation snuffed out like a candle by Miss Seward's eloquence:

Thy pen, more potent than Ithuriel's spear

Strips from the ruthless Chief his corselet's pride,
And shews his heart of Nero's colour dy'd.

And indeed she herself esteemed it highly. To commemorate the death of Lady Miller, she invokes the same Muse that had then befriended her:

Ye, who essay'd to weave the golden thread,
And gem with flow'rs the woof of high applause
The pious veil o'er shroudless André spread,
O'er André, murder'd in his country's cause.

1

That his memory might rest in literature like Garrick in the picture between the Tragic and the Comic Muse, James Smith has added his mite to Miss Seward's labors, in a pretended volume of letters from America called Milk and Honey, or the Land of Promise: Letter vii.; Mr. Richard Barrow to Mr. Robert Briggs.

- Bob, Jonathan's queer; he is mizzled a ration,
He does not half-stomach a late exhumation;
Some culls, here, have taken to grubbing the clay
That tucks up the body of Major André.
With yon resurrectionists, that is not very
Unusual, who dig up as fast as you bury,
And charge iron coffins the devil's own fee-
(Lord Stowel there buried the poor patentee,)
But here, Bob, the gabies have not come to that.
Would you fancy it? Jonathan's yet such a flat
As to think, when a corpse has been waked by a train
Of mourners, 'tis wicked to wake it again.

Methinks you're for asking me who André was?
(Book-learning and you, Bob, ain't cronies, that's pos.)
I'll tell you, André, urged by arguments weighty,
Went out to New York Anno Domini '80.
He quitted the land of his fathers to bleed
In war, all along of his love for Miss Sneyd;

But, finding his name not enroll'd in a high line
Of rank for promotion, he took to the Spy-line.
He sew'd in his stocking a letter from Arnold:
A sentinel nabb'd it — why didn't the darn hold?
Or why, when he stitch'd it up, didn't he put
The letter between his sole-leather and foot?
By mashing it, then, he had 'scap'd all disaster,
As Pipes mash'd the letter of Pickle, his master.
Within the lines taken, a prisoner brought off,

They troubled him with a line more than he thought of;
For, finding the young man's despatches not trim,
To shorten my story, Bob, they despatch'd him.

He long might have slept with the ci-devant crew,
As soundly as here other buried men do;
But fashion, as somebody says on the stage,
In words and in periwigs will have her rage.
The notion of bringing dead people away

Began upon Paine, and went on to André;
The Yankees thought Cobbett was digging for dibs,
But when out he trundled a thighbone and ribs,
They did not half-like it; and cried with a groan,

"Since poor Tom's a-cold, why not leave him alone?"

American writers have also made the story their fictitious theme. The tragedy of Arnold, that of André, and the verses of Mr. Willis and Mr. Miller have at various times been given to the public.

No. IV.

COLONEL BENJAMIN TALLMADGE TO GENERAL HEATH.

[From the Heath MSS.]

Pine's Bridge, Oct. 10th, 1780.

DEAR GENERAL: Since my return from Head Quarters a few days since, I have been honored with your agreeable favor of the 21st ult. with its enclosed from Mr. Broome, as also another of the 30th ult. I am much obliged to you for your kind attention in forwarding my letters to Mr. Broome as well as his Returns to me.

Before this reaches you, the information of Major Andre's execution must undoubtedly have been received. Thro' the course of his Tryal and Confinement (during which I had the charge of him a great part of the time) he behaved with that fortitude which did him great honor. He made every confession to the Court which was necessary to convict him of being a Spy, but said nothing of his accomplices. During his confinement I became intimately acquainted with him; and I must say (nor am I alone in the opinion) that he was one of the most accomplished young gentlemen I ever was acquainted with. Such ease and affability of manners, polite and genteel deportment, added to an enlarged understanding, made him the idol of General Clinton and the B. army. On the day of his execution he was most elegantly dressed in his full regimentals, and marched to the destined ground with as much ease and cheerfulness of countenance as if he had been going to an Assembly room. Tho' his fate was just, yet to see so promising a youth brought to the gallows drew a tear from almost every spectator. He seemed, while with me, to be almost unmindful of his fate, and only regretted his disappoint

ment.

Since Arnold has been at New York, he has flung into the Provost many of our friends whom he will have punished if possible. I fear it will injure the chains of our intelligence, at least for a little time, till the present tumult is over. I am happy that he does not know even a single link in my chain. His Excellency General Washington has undoubtedly given you the particulars of the whole hellish plot, which was laid to have nearly overthrown the liberties of this country. So providential, I had almost said miraculous a detection of such deep-laid villany can hardly be found in the history of any people.

Joshua Smith, an accomplice with Arnold, was under arrest when I left Head Quarters a few days since, and will doubtless be punished capitally.

Oct. 11th. I have this moment received information from my agents at New York, but no letters. The conduct of that infamous Arnold has been such since his arrival at New York that our friends, who were not even suspected, are too much agitated at the present juncture to favor us with intelligence as usual. I hope in a little time the storm will blow over. I have two ac

counts from New York, but neither thro' my old channel; one of which is that the enemy have embarked a considerable body of troops and were put to sea; another that their embarkation goes on very slowly.

The letter herewith sent please to forward to Mr. Broome. With compliments to the gentlemen of your family, I am, &c.

P. S. His Excellency General Washington, with the Light Infantry, the Pennsylvania, Connecticut, and Massachusetts Lines, has moved lower down New Jersey, near Posaick falls. General Green with the New Jersey, New York and New Hampshire Lines, has gone to West Point.

THE END.

CAMBRIDGE: PRINTED BY H. O. HOUGHTON.