come into the port of Majorca, the master, with four men, went ashore, and left the mate on board with ten Turks. The master having done his business, returned on board, not taking license, lest the Spaniards should come and see the Turks: but another English master, being an acquaintance, lying there also with his ship, came at night on board; and after some discourse, they told him what they had done, under promise of silence, lest the Spaniards should come and take away the Turks. But he broke his promise, and would have had two or three of the Turks to have brought them to England. His design then being seen, his demand was denied; and seeing he could not prevail, he said to Pattison and his mate, "That they were fools, because they would not sell the Turks, which were each worth two or three hundred pieces of eight." But they told him, "That if they would give many thousands, they should not have one, for they hoped to send them home again; and to sell them," the mate said, "he would not have done for the whole island." The other master then coming ashore, told the Spaniards what he knew of this, who then threatened to take away the Turks. But Pattison and his mate having heard this, called out the Turks, and said to them, "Ye must help us, or the Spaniards will take you from us." To this the Turks, as one may easily guess, were very ready, and so they quickly got out to sea: and the English, to save the Turks, put themselves to the hazard of being overcome again; for they continued hovering several days, because they would not put into any port of Spain, for fear of losing the Turks, to whom they gave liberty for four or five days, until they made an attempt to rise; which the mate perceiving, he prevented, without hurting any of them, though he once laid hold of one. Yet generally he was so kind to them, that some of his men grumbled, and said, "He had more care for the Turks than for them." To which his answer was, They were strangers, and therefore he must treat them well." At length, after several occurrences, the mate told the master, "That he thought it best to go to the coasts of Barbary, because they were then like to miss their men of war." To this the master consented. However, to deceive the Turks, they sailed to and fro for several days; for in the day-time they were for going to Algiers, but when night came they steered the contrary way, and went back again, by which means they kept the Turks in ignorance, so as to be quiet.

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"But on the ninth day, being all upon deck, when none of the English were there but the master, his mate, and the man at the helm, they began to be so untoward and haughty, that it rose in the mate's mind, What if they should lay hold on the master, and cast him overboard:" for they were ten lusty men, and he but a little man. This thought struck him with terror; but recollecting himself, he stamped with his foot, and the men coming up, one asked for the crow, and another for the axe, to fall on the Turks; but the mate bade them, not to hurt the Turks, and said, "I will lay hold on their captain ;" which he did for having heard them threaten the master, he stepped forward, and laying hold of the captain, said he "must go down," which he did very quietly, and all the rest followed him.

Two days after, being come on the coast of Barbary, they were, according to what the Turks said, about fifty miles from Algiers, and six from land; and in the afternoon it fell calm. But how to set the Turks on shore was yet not resolved upon. The mate saw well enough, that he being the man who had begun this business, it would be his lot also to bring it to an end. He then acquainted the master that he was willing to carry the Turks on shore; but how to do this safely, he as yet knew not certainly; for to give them the boat was too dangerous, for then they might get men and arms, and so come and retake the ship p with its own boat; and to carry them on shore with two or three of the ship's men, was also a great hazard, because the Turks were ten in number and to put one half on shore v was no less dangerous; for then they might raise the country, and so surprise the Efiglish when they came with the other half. In this great strait, the mate said to the master, "if he would let him have the boat and three men to go with him, he would venture to put the Turks on shore." The master, relying perhaps on his mate's conduct, consented to the proposal, though not without some tears dropt on both sides. Yet the mate taking courage, said to the master, "I believe the Lord will preserve me, for I have nothing but good-will in venturing my life; and I have not the least fear upon me; but trust that all will do well." The master having consented, the mate called up the Turks, and going with two men and a boy in the boat, took in these ten Turks, all loose and unbound. Perhaps somebody will think this to be a very inconsiderate act of the mate, and that it would have been more prudent to have tied the Turks' hands, the rather because he had made the men promise, that they should do nothing to the Turks, until he said" he could do no more" for then he gave them liberty to act for their lives so as they judged convenient. Now since he knew not how near he should bring the Turks ashore, and whether they should not have been necessitated to swim a little, it seemed not prudent to do any thing which might have exasperated them; for if it had fallen out so that they must have swam, then of necessity they must have been untied, which would have been dangerous. Yet the mate did not omit to be as careful as possible he could. For calling in the captain of the Turks, he placed him first in the boat's stern; then calling for another, he placed him in his lap, and one on each side, and two more in their laps, until he had placed them all, which he did to prevent a sudden rising. He himself sat with a boat-hook in his hand on the bow of the boat, having next to him one of the ship-men, and two that rowed, having one a carpenter's adze, and the other a cooper's heading knife. These were all the arms besides what belonged to the Turks which they had at their command. Thus the boat went off, and stood for the shore. But as they came near it, the men growing afraid, one of them cried out of a sudden, "Lord have mercy on us, there are Turks in the bushes on shore." The Turks in the boat perceiving the English to be afraid, all rose at once: But the mate, who in this great strait continued to be hearty, shewed himself now to be a man of courage, and bid the men to "take up such arms as they had,

P

but do nothing with them until he gave them leave." And then seeing that there were no men in the bushes, and that it was only an imagination, all fear was taken away from him, and his courage increasing, he thought with himself, it is better to strike a man, than to cleave a man's head, and turning the boat-hook in his hand, he struck the captain a smart blow, and bid him sit down, which he did instantly, and so did all the rest. After the boat was come so near the shore, that they could easily wade, the mate bid the Turks jump out, and so they did; and because they said they were about four miles from a town, he then gave them some loaves, and other necessaries. They would fain have persuaded the English to go with them ashore to a town, promising to treat them with wine, and other good things; but though the mate trusted in Divine Providence, yet he was not so careless as freely to enter into an apparent danger, without being necessitated thereto for though he had some thoughts that the Turks would not have done him any evil, yet it was too hazardous, thus to have yielded to the mercy of those that lived there; and therefore he very prudently rejected their invitation, well knowing that the Scripture saith, "Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God." The Turks seeing they could not persuade him, took their leave with signs of great kindness, and so went on shore. The English then putting the boat closer in, threw them all their arms on shore, being unwilling to keep any thing of theirs. And when the Turks got up the hill, they waved their caps at the English, and so joyfully took their last farewell. And as soon as the boat came again on board, they had a fair wind, which they had not all the while the Turks were on board. Thus Thomas Lurting saved the ship and its men; which being thus wonderfully preserved, returned to England with a prosperous wind. Now before the vessel arrived at London, the news of this extraordinary case was come thither, and when she was coming up the Thames, the King, with the Duke of York, and several Lords being at Greenwich, it was told him, there was a Quaker's ketch coming up the River that had been taken by the Turks, and redeemed themselves without fighting. The King hearing this, came with his barge to the ship's side, and holding the entering-rope in his hand, he understood from the mate's own mouth, how the thing had happened. But when he heard him say, how they had let the Turks go free, he said to the master, "You have done like a fool, for you might have had good gain for them:" and to the mate he said, "You should have brought the Turks to me." But the mate answered, "I thought it better for them to be in their own country."

ib

EPITAPH ON A DOG."

(From the Latin of Vincent Bourne.)

Poor Irus' faithful Wolf-dog here I'lie,

That wont to tend my old blind master's steps,
His guide and guard: nor, while my service lasted,
Had he occasion for that staff, with which

He now goes picking out his path in fear

Over the highways and crossings; but would plant,
Safe in the conduct of my friendly string,

A firm foot forward still, till he had reached
His seat, by some road side, nigh where the tide
Of passers-by in thickest confluence flowed:
To whom with loud and passionate laments
From morn to eve his dark estate he wailed.
Nor wailed to all in vain: some here and there,
The well-disposed and good, their pennies gave.
I meantime at his feet obsequious slept;
Not all-asleep in sleep, but heart and ear
Pricked up at his least motion-to receive
At bis kind hand my customary crumbs,
And common portion in his feast of scraps-

Or when night warned us homewards, tired and spent
With our long day and tedious beggary.
These were my manners, this my way of life,
Till age and slow disease me overtook,
And severed from my sightless master's side.
But lest the grace of so good deeds should die,
Through tract of years in mute oblivion lost,
This slender tomb of turf hath Irus reared,
Cheap monument of no ungrudging hand,
And with short verse inscribed it to attest,
In long and lasting union to attest,
The virtues of the Beggar and his Dog.

C. L.

Orders received by the Newsmen, by the Booksellers, and by the Publisher, Joseph Appleyard,

Printed by Joseph Appleyard, No. 19, Catherine-street, Strand,

-Price 2d.

THE INDICATOR.

There he arriving round about doth flie,
And takes survey with busie curious eye:
Now this, now that, he tasteth tenderly.

SPENSER.

No. XXXI.-WEDNESDAY, MAY 10th, 1820.

ROUSSEAU'S PYGMALION.

We are not aware that this piece of Rousseau's has hitherto appeared in English,It is a favourite in France, and very naturally so, on all accounts. To our countrymen there will perhaps appear to be some thing, in parts of it, too declamatory and full of ejaculation; and it must be confessed, that if the story alone is to be considered, the illustrious author has committed one great fault, which was hardly to be expected of him; and that is, that he has not made the sentiment sufficently prominent. The original story, though spoiled by the rake Ovid, informs us, that Pygmalion with all his warmth towards the sex was so disgusted at the manners of his countrywomen, that instead of going any longer into their society, he preferred making images, in his own mind, and with his chisel, of what a woman ought to be; informing her looks, of course, with sentiment and kindness, as well as with the more ordinary attractions. It appears to us, therefore, that instead of making him fall in love, almost out of vanity, as Rousseau has done, it might have been better, in the abstract point of view above mentioned, to represent him fashioning the likeness of a creature after his own heart, lying and looking at it with a yearning wish that he could have met with such a living being, and at last, while indulging his imagination with talking to her, making him lay his hand upon hers, and finding it warm. The rest is, in every respect, exquisitely managed by Rousseau. But now we must observe, that while the charge of a certain prevailing air of insincerity over the French style in these matters, appears just in most instances, a greater confidence is to be put in the enthusiasm of the Genevese; for he was a kind of Pygmalion himself, disgusted with the world, and perpetually yet hopelessly endeavouring to realize the dreams of his imagination. This, after all, is perhaps the most touching thing in his performance. Pygmalion's self predominates over the idea of his mistress, because the author's self pressed upon him while he wrote. The only actual difference between the fabulous solitary and the real one, was, unfortunately, that Pygmalion seems to have been willing enough to be contented, had he found a mistress that deserved him; whereas Rousseau, when he was really beloved, and even thought himself so, was sure to be made the ruin of his own comfort; partly by a distrustful morbidity of temperament, and partly perhaps by a fastidious metaphysical subtlety, which turned his eye with a painful sharpness, upon the

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