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queen, upon the perusal of this petition, which was presented to her majesty by one of the city representatives, was pleased to promise that she would inquire a little further into the matter. On doing so, she found the truth of the petition confirmed in all its particulars; and was graciously pleased to pardon both the offending brothers, and discharge them from her service. "For which good mercy in the queen," says a chronicle of that period, "she received a very grateful and most dutiful address of thanks from her loyal city."

THE COMBAT OF THE DOG OF MONTARGIS WITH THE ASSASSIN OF HIS MASTER.

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THE fame of an English dog has been deservedly transmitted to posterity by a monument in basso relievo, which still remains on the chimney-piece of the grand hall, at the castle of Montargis in France. The sculpture, which represents a dog fighting with a champion, is explained by the following narrative.

Aubri de Mondidier, a gentleman of family and fortune, travelling alone through the forest of Bondi, was murdered and buried under a tree. His dog, an English blood-hound, would not quit his master's grave for several days; till at length, compelled by hunger, he proceeded to the house of an intimate friend of the unfortunate Aubri, at Paris, and by his melancholy howling, seemed desirous of expressing the loss they had both sustained. He repeated his cries, ran to the door, looked back to see if any one followed him, returned to his master's friend, pulled him by the sleeve, and with dumb eloquence entreated him to go with him.

The singularity of all these actions of the dog, added to the circumstance of his coming without his master, whose faithful companion he had always been, prompted the company to follow the animal, who conducted them to a tree, where he renewed his howl, scratching the earth with his feet, and

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significantly entreating them to search that particular spot. Accordingly, on digging, the body of the unfortunate Aubri was found.

Some time after, the dog accidentally met the assassin, who is styled, by all the historians that relate the fact, the Chevalier Macaire; when instantly seizing him by the throat, he was with great difficulty compelled to quit his prey.

In short, whenever the dog saw the chevalier, he continued to pursue and attack him with equal fury. Such obstinate virulence in the animal, confined only to Macaire, appeared very extraordinary; especially to those who at once recollected the dog's remarkable attachment to his master, and several instances in which Macaire's envy and hatred to Aubri de Mondidier, had been conspicuous.

Additional circumstances created suspicion; and at length the affair reached the royal ear. The king (Louis VIII.) accordingly sent for the dog, which appeared extremely gentle, till he perceived Macaire in the midst of several noblemen, when he ran fiercely towards him, growling at and attacking him as usual.

The king struck with such a collection of circumstantial evidence against Macaire, determined to refer the decision to the chance of battle; in other words, he gave orders for a combat between the chevalier and the dog. The lists were appointed in the isle of Notre Dame, then an uninclosed, uninhabited place, and Macaire was allowed for his weapon a great cudgel.

An empty hutch was given to the dog as a place of retreat, to enable him to recover breath. Every thing being prepared, the dog no sooner found himself at liberty, than he ran round his adversary, avoiding his blows, and menacing him on every side, till his strength was exhausted; then springing forward, he griped him by the throat, threw him on the ground, and obliged him to confess his guilt, in the presence of the king and the whole court. consequence of this, the chevalier, after a few days, was convicted upon his own acknowledgement, and beheaded on a scaffold in the isle of Notre Dame.

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FUNERAL SACRIFICES AMONG THE TARTARS AND CHINESE.

There is a barbarous custom, which is practised amongst the Tartars and Moguls, namely, to kill those they met in the way, when they are carrying to the grave the body of a Grand Can, though this custom is not countenanced by any law. Yet they exercised this cruelty at the funerals of the* emperors. The gentlemen who accompany the funeral pomp, persuaded that the men they kill are predestinated to die then, put to death those they meet in the way, and even cut the throats of the finest horses.

SUFFERINGS OF A PORTUGUESE.

A Portuguese, of an illustrious family, but of a new Christian race, Don Luis Pecoa Dessa by name, was arrested by the Inquisition of Coimbra, upon the information of his steward, whom he had dismissed for dishonesty. His first examination turned upon the subject of his property; he declared that he possessed an annual rental of thirty thousand livres in immoveable property, and that his personal estate was corresponding. The Inquisition immediately resolved not to lose so valuable a prize, and, to remove every obstacle to their scheme, they immediately arrested the wife and daughter of Don Luis, his two

sons, and several of his relations, whom he generously supported in his house. His wife and daughter died, after a confinement of a few days; his two sons, who were both very young, were forced to confess whatever was required of them, and were then sentenced to ten years exile in the Algarves. However, Don Luis strenuously asserted his innocence, which he demonstrated beyond contradiction.

The Duke of Cadaval was the intimate friend of Don Luis, and ventured to make some advances to the grand Inquisitor in his favour; but the latter, according to the rigorous principles of the tribunal, only replied, that if Don Luis persisted in denying his guilt, that he would be inevitably burned. However, he said, as a special favour, he would promise him, that if, during the ceremony of the auto da fè, he succeeded in prevailing upon Don Luis to confess, his life should be spared, though it was contrary to the laws and usages of the Inquisition.

He was indeed condemned to the stake, and appeared at the auto da fè in the carrocha, and the samarra covered with flames and devils. The Duke of Cadaval had placed his most intimate friends in his path; they flung themselves, all in tears, upon the neck of this unfortunate man, and conjured him, by all he held dear and sacred, to save his life. They told him that there was still time, that they had received a solemn promise to that effect: they told him that the loss of his property ought not to give him any uneasiness, that the Duke of Cadaval had commanded them to assure him that he would provide for all his wants even beyond his wishes. Nothing could move him, he said that he would die a Christian, that the accusation, of which he was the victim, was only a pretext made use of by the Holy Office, to seize upon his spoils, and so continued to proceed.

The ceremony now went on, the sermon was finished, the reading of the sentences was commenced, and but a moment remained. The deputies of the Duke of Cadaval, in despair, threw themselves at the feet of Luis; "In the name of God," they exclaimed, "save your valuable life." This ill-fated man, overcome by their earnest prayers, at length yielded. He rose, he advanced to the throne of the Inquisitors; "Come," cried he in a loud voice, "let me satisfy, by a falsehood, the wishes of my friends." He was reconducted to prison, where he passed two years; he was then sent to Evora, where he appeared at the auto da fè, in the san-benito de fuergo revolto, (a sort of dress, the flames deciphered upon which are diverged) and was then sent to the gallies for five years.

DREAM OF A MARRIED LADY VERIFIED.

A gentleman of fortune was awakened by his wife one night, who said she had had a most unpleasant dream. She thought that a friend of theirs, who was in the East-India Company's land service, had been killed in a duel; she likewise described the situation of the place where the duel was fought, and where the dead body had been laid, which was in a shed near the place where he fell. The husband, who did not place much credit in dreams, endeavoured to pacify her, representing to her the absurdity of those disturbed imaginations in sleep, and told her he hoped the next accounts from India would announce the health of their friend. A few months after, however, he received the melancholy news from that country, that his wife's dream was but too true. A gentleman who came from India, informed him that the captain had fought a duel, and was unhappily killed upon the spot; and, as a token of his regard,

had bequeathed him the sum of five hundred pounds. What renders this dream remarkable is, that the body of the gentleman who fell was carried to a shed near the spot, as the lady had described in her dream; which particular circumstance was related by the gentleman who brought the news.

HORRID PARRICIDE.

Miss Blandy was the daughter of a gentleman of fortune of that name residing at Henley-upon-Thames, and who, in his great concern for the welfare of his child, had endeavoured to exert his parental authority in breaking off an unfortunate attachment which she had formed for an artful villain of the name of Cranstoun, who held a commission in the army and who was already. married to an amiable and highly respectable lady in Scotland. Miss Blandy would not hearken to any thing that tended to the prejudice of her lover. When the trial was shewn her, compelling him to make a provision for his lady and family, she flew into a violent passion, exclaiming against every one who attempted to undeceive her, and the tender remonstrances of her father were to no purpose.

Led on by a giddy and headstrong passion, she formed the black design of taking him off by poison; and though the impious parricide shocked her at first, yet the force of her affections so far overcame her reason, that she determined within herself to put it in execution. The flattering hopes of pursuing her mistaken happiness uncontrouled, confirmed her in her purpose, and she thought that when her father was dead, there would be an end of her misery.

Having procured the horrid dose, her first attempt was about six weeks before her father's death, when being at breakfast with him, she conveyed some of it into his cup. Perceiving an unusul taste in it, he gave it a person then present to taste, who threw it, with the cup, out of the window. This circumstance seems to bear a suspicious countenance, being done with no other view than to prevent a discovery.

Her intentions having miscarried for that time, she was determined to make sure work of it the next. Her father at that time, labouring under the disorders of old age, had recourse to such simple medicines as his complaint required. His daughter usually administered them to him, and she thought this the best time to put her wicked intentions in practice. Being troubled with the gravel he took some powders from which he reaped some benefit, and in these powders she mingled the poison. He swallowed them without suspicion, and she being determined to do it effectually, put some likewise into his water-gruel.

In a short time after he had taken this fatal potion, the unhappy gentleman found himself prodigiously disordered; and the servant maid in the interim, drank off what gruel was left, and was likewise much affected and soon afterwards died. This wicked wretch, pretending great sorrow at seeing her father in pain, asked where his disorder lay; he told her in his bowels, and that his pains increased more than he was able to bear. Upon this she told him, that she imagined it was the gripes, and advised him to take some Daffy's Elixir. The unhappy gentleman, ignorant of the cause of his disorder, readily accepted the medicine, and drank off a large glass of it.

The barbarity of this circumstance is extremely shocking! She knew the hot quality of that elixir, and the terrible effects it would produce on one who had already taken more than sufficient of a fiery poison to deprive him of life. He had no sooner drunk this cruel remedy, than he fell from his chair in the

most violent agony, and swelled prodigiously. Assistance being called, the most proper antidotes were applied, but this inhuman creature being very officious in the management of them, by her contrivance they had not the desired effect.

He lay in the most lamentable tortures for the space of forty-eight hours without relief; a physician came post from London, and all possible means made use of, but in vain, for his body swelled to that degree that it burst, and he died a most shocking spectacle to behold.

The persons who were witnesses of this horrid catastrophe were not at a loss to find out the author of it; they immediately accused the unnatural daughter with the murder, and she was taken into custody. The servants were all strictly examined, in order to discover whether any of them were privy to the affair, but not the least cause of suspicion appeared among them. As to Miss Blandy she treated their accusation with contempt, and did not shew the least remorse for what she had done.

On searching her apartment, there was found in a little dressing-box a quantity of white arsenic, mixed up with a certain composition to make it palletable. When she was asked what she intended to do with that composition, she made answer, that it was only a powder to clean her jewels with, and that if they would not believe her they might taste.

To such a pitch of wickedness was she arrived, that she even made a jest of what ought to have struck her dumb with horror. When she was carried before a magistrate, she made answer, that she had it as a present from her admirer, and that he told her it was love-powder.

The day before she went to gaol, she asked Mrs. Newton, the servant who attended her, if she was to go to gaol that day; she told her, "No, not till tomorrow." Upon which she replied, she was glad of it, for then she should have time to pack up every thing that she should want; for after to-morrow, said she to Mrs. Newton, you and I shall have nothing to do but to enjoy ourselves.

She accordingly went to Oxford Gaol the next day in her father's chariot, attended by a numerous company of spectators, who were with some difficulty kept from insulting her, fearing, as she went in her chariot, that she was going to be screened from justice; though the proper officers assured them she was going to gaol, they would not be satisfied, but accompanied her there; and when she was safely lodged, departed very peaceably: so much had her atrocious crime enraged their just resentment.

After she had been in gaol some time, being asked, how she could perpetrate such a cruel deed, she replied, she did not think there was any crime to dispatch a cross old fellow out of the world, who was the only bar to her happiness, and that she would do it, was it to be done again.

When she was told of the dangerous situation she was in, and how carefully she ought to prepare for the worst, she said, that life and death in her present circumstances, was equal to her; and that she was determined, that the event of her trial should give her very little concern. And thus, without paying any regard for her future state, she passed her time in an indolent and thoughtless

manner.

She was afterwards tried at Oxford, found guilty, and executed. Her behaviour a little before her execution was decent, serious, and resigned; and, if we are to credit her dying declaration, she did not know, or believe, that the powder, to which the death of her father has been ascribed, had any noxious or poisonous quality lodged in it.

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