Mr. Carew would have been gladly excused from going through Dorchester, as he had appeared there but four or five days before in the character of a broken miller, and had thereby raised a contribution of the mayor and corporation of that place; but as it lay in the direct road to Bristol, and he was attended by a guide, he could not possibly avoid it. As soon as they came there, his guide presented the pass in behalf of Mr. Carew to the mayor, who thereupon ordered the town-bell to be rung, and assembled the heads of the corporation. Though he had been so lately with them, yet, being now in a quite different dress, and a pass which they knew to be signed by Justice Farwell, and the guide testifying that he was an unfortunate shipwrecked seaman, escaped from the most imminent danger, they had no notion of his being the broken miller who had been with them a few days before; they therefore treated him with great humanity, and relieved him very generously. After this, the guide took his leave of him with a great many good wishes for his safe arrival at Bristol; but Mr. Carew, instead of pursuing his way thither, steered his course towards Devonshire, and raised contributions by the way, as a shipwrecked seaman, on Colonel Brown of Framton, Squire Trenchard, and Squire Falford of Tolla, Colonel Broadrip, Colonel Mitchell, and Squire Richards of Long Britty, and several other gentlemen.

It was not long after this, that, being in the city of Bristol, he put in execution a very bold and ingenious stratagem. Calling to mind one Aaron Cook, a trader of considerable worth and note, at St. John's in Newfoundland, whom he resembled both in person and speech, he resolved to be the son of Aaron Cook for some time; he therefore went upon the Tolsey, and other places of public resort for the merchants of Bristol, and there modestly acquainted them with his name, as well as his misfortunes; that he was born and lived all his life at St. John's in Newfoundland; that he was bound for England, in the Nicholas, Captain Newman; which vessel springing a leak, they were obliged to quit her, and were taken up by an Irishman, Patrick Pore, and by him carried into Waterford; whence he had got passage, and landed at King's Road; that his business in England was to buy provisions and fishing craft, and to see his relations, who lived in the parish of Cockington, near Torbay, where, he said, his father was born.

Captains Elton, Galloway, Masters, Thomas, Turner, and several other Newfoundland traders, many of whom personally knew his pretended father and mother, asked him many questions about the family, their usual place of fishing, &c., particularly if he remembered how the quarrel happened at his father's (when he was but a boy) which was of so unhappy a consequence to Governor Collins? Mr. Carew very readily replied, that though he was then very young, he remembered that the governor, the parson and his wife, Madam Short, Madam Bengy, Madam Brown, and several other women of St. John's, having met together, and feasting at his father's, a warm dispute happened among the men in the heat of liquor, concerning the virtue of women, the governor obstinately averring that there was not one honest woman in all Newfoundland. What think you then of my wife? said the parson. The same as I do of all other women, all whores alike, answered the governor roughly. Hereupon the women, not able to bear this gross aspersion on their honour, with one accord attacked the governor, who, being overpowered by their fury, could not defend his face from being disfigured by their nails, nor his clothes from being torn off his back; and what was much worse, the parson's wife thinking herself most injured, cut the hamstring of his leg with a knife, which rendered him a cripple his whole life after.

This circumstantial account, which was in every point exactly as the affair happened, and many other questions concerning the family which the captains asked him, and he as readily answered, (having got every particular information concerning them when in Newfoundland,) fully convinced them that he must really be the son of their good old friend Mr. Aaron Cook; they therefore not only very generously relieved him, but offered to lend him any moderate sum, to be paid again in Newfoundland, the next fishing season; but Mr. Carew had too high a sense of honour to abuse their generosity so far; he therefore excused himself from accepting their offer, by saying he would be furnished with as much as he should have occasion for, by merchant Pemm of Exeter. They then took him with them to Guildhall, recommending him to the benevolence of the mayor and corporation, testifying he was a man of reputable family in Newfoundland. Here a very handsome collection was made for him; and the circumstances of his misfortunes becoming public, many other respectable ladies and gentlemen gave him that assistance according to their abilities, which is always due to unfortunate strangers. Three days did the captains detain him by their civilities in Bristol, showing him all the curiosities and pleasures of the place to divert his melancholy. He then set out for Cockington, where his relations lived, and Bridgewater being on his road, he had a letter, from one of the Bristol captains, to Captain Drake in that place.

As soon as he came to Bridgewater, he went directly to the mayor's house, and knocking at the gate, it was opened to him by madam mayoress, to whom he related his misfortune; and the good lady, pitying him as an unfortunate stranger, so far distant from his home, gave him half-a-crown, and engaged her daughter, a child, to give him a shilling.

We cannot pass by this amiable lady, without paying her the due tribute of praise; for tenderness and compassion ought to be the peculiar ornament of every female breast; and it were to be wished that every parent would betimes, like this good lady, instil into their children a tender sense of humanity, and feeling for another's woes, they would by this means teach them the enjoyment of the most godlike and pleasing of all other pleasures, that of relieving the distressed; and would extinguish that sordid selfish spirit, which is the blot of humanity. The good lady not content with what she had already done, ushered him into the room, where her husband, an aged gentleman, was writing; to whom she related Mr. Cook's misfortunes in as moving a manner as she was able; the old gentleman laid aside his spectacles, and asked him several questions, then dispatched his servant into the town, who soon returned with two Newfoundland captains, one of whom happened to be Captain Drake, to whom our hero had a letter of recommendation given him by one of the Bristol captains; and the other Captain Morris, whose business having called him to Bristol, he had there been already informed by the captains of the circumstances of Mr. Cook's misfortunes; and he repeating the same now to the mayor, Captain Morris confirmed this relation, told them how he had been treated at Bristol, and made him a present of a guinea and a greatcoat, it being then very rainy weather; Captain Drake likewise gave him a guinea, for both these gentlemen perfectly well knew Mr. Cook's father and mother; the mayor likewise made him a present, and entertained him very hospitably in his house.

In the same character he visited Sir Haswell Tent, and several other gentlemen, raising considerable contributions.

This activity and ingenuity of their new king was highly agreeable to the community of the mendicants, and his applauses resounded at all their meetings; but, as fortune delights to change the scene, and of a sudden to depress those she had most favoured, we come now to relate the misfortunes of our hero, though we know not whether we should call them by that name or not, as they gave him a large field of action, and greater opportunities of exercising the more manly virtues—courage and intrepidity in dangers.

Going one day to pay a visit to Mr. Robert Incledon, at Barnstaple in Devon, (in an ill hour which his knowledge could not foresee,) knocking at the door softly, it was, opened to him by the clerk, with the common salutation of How do you do, Mr. Carew? where have you been? He readily replied, that he was making a visit to Squire Bassar, and in his return had called to pay his respects to Mr. Incledon.

The clerk very civilly asked him to walk in; but no sooner had he entered than the door was shut upon him by Justice Leithbridge, a very bitter enemy to the whole community of mendicants, who concealed himself behind it, and Mr. Carew was made a prisoner;—so sudden are the vicissitudes of life; and misfortunes spring as it were out of the earth.

Thus suddenly and unexpectedly fell the mighty Caesar, the master of the world; and just so affrighted Priam looked when the shade of Hector drew his curtains, and told him that his Troy was taken.

The reader will, undoubtedly, be at a loss to comprehend why he was thus seized upon, contrary to the laws of hospitality; it is therefore our business to inform him, that he had, some time before this, in the shape of a poor lame cripple, frightened either the justice or his horse on Hilton bridge; but which of the two it was, cannot be affirmed with any certainty. However, the justice vowed a dire revenge, and now exulted greatly at having got him in his power; fame had no sooner sounded with her hundred prattling tongues that our hero was in captivity, but the justice's house was crowded with intercessors for him:—however, Justice Leithbridge was deaf to all, and even to the entreaties of beauty,—several ladies being likewise advocates for him; whether it was that the justice was past that age when love shoots his darts with most success, or whether his heart was always made of that unmalleable stuff which is quite unassailable by love, or by his cousin-german, pity, we cannot well determine.

Amongst the rest who came to see him, were some captains of collier vessels, whom the justice espying, very probably taking some disgust at their countenances, demanded who they were, and immediately discharging the guard which had been before placed over Mr. Carew, charged the captains with the care of him, though they affirmed their vessels were to sail the next tide; however the justice paying as little regard to their allegations as he had done to their petitions for Mr. Carew, they found they had no other hope but from the good-natured dame—Patience; a good woman, who is always ready to render our misfortunes less, and was, in all his adventures, a great friend to our hero.

At length a warrant was made out for conveying him to Exeter, and lodging him in one of the securest places in that city; but, as it was now too late to set forward on their journey that night, they were ordered to a public house at Barnstaple; and the justice remembering the old proverb, "fast bind, fast find," would fain have locked the door of the room where Mr. Carew was, and taken the key with him; but the honest landlord offering to become security for his appearance in the morning, the justice was at last persuaded to be content without a jailor.

Mr. Carew, notwithstanding his situation, was not cast down, but bravely opposed his ill fortune with his usual courage, and passed the night with great cheerfulness in the company of the collier captains, who were his guard.

The next day Mr. Carew was conducted to Exeter, without any thing remarkable happening on the road; here, to his great annoyance, he was securely lodged for upwards of two months, before he was brought to trial at the quarter sessions, held at the castle, when Justice Bevis was chairman; but that awful appearance,

The judges all met—a terrible show,

did not strike any terror into his breast; though loaded with chains, he preserved his usual firmness of mind, and saluted the court with a noble assurance. Being asked by the chairman what parts of the world he had been in? he answered Denmark, Sweden, Muscovy, France, Spain, Portugal, Newfoundland, Ireland, Wales, and some parts of Scotland. The chairman then told him he must proceed to a hotter country:—he inquired into what climate, and being told Merryland, he with great composure made a critical observation on the pronunciation of that word, implying, that he apprehended it ought to be pronounced Maryland, and added, it would save him five pounds for his passage, as he was very desirous of seeing that country: but, notwithstanding, he with great resolution desired to know by what law they acted, as he was not accused of any crime; however, sentence of banishment was passed upon him for seven years; but his fate was not singular, for he had the comfort of having fellow companions enough in his unmerited sufferings, as, out of thirty-five prisoners, thirty-two were ordered into the like banishment.

Whether at that period of time mankind were more profligate than usual, or whether there was a more than ordinary demand for men in his majesty's colonies, cannot by us be determined. Mr. Carew was not, as is most commonly the case, deserted by his friends in adversity, for he was visited during the time of his imprisonment by many gentlemen, who were exceedingly liberal to him; and no sooner did the news of his captivity reach the ears of his subjects, than they flocked to him from all parts, administered to his necessities in prison, and daily visited him till his departure.

This, and the thoughts of the many new scenes and adventures which he was likely to encounter, whereby he might have an opportunity of making his name as famous in America as it was already in Europe, often filled his mind with too-pleasing reflections to regret his fate, though he could have liked to have performed the voyage under more agreeable circumstances; whenever the thought of being cruelly separated from his beloved wife and daughters glanced on his mind, the husband and father unmanned the hero, and melted him into tenderness and fear; the reflection too of the damage his subjects might sustain by his absence, and the disorder the whole community would be put in by it, filled him with many disquietudes.

Thus, between pleasing ideas and heartfelt pangs, did he pass his time till the day arrived that he was to be conducted on board the Julian, Captain Froade, commander. But how, gentle reader, shall I describe the ceremony of parting—the last farewell of that dreadful day!

Leaving the reader, therefore, to suppose all these fine things, behold the sails already spread, and the vessel cutting the waves; but, as if fate had opposed itself to the banishment of our hero, the winds soon proved contrary, and they were obliged to stay more than a fortnight in Falmouth harbour for a fair wind, and from thence, in eleven weeks, they arrived safely at Maryland, after a disagreeable voyage.

The first place they touched at was Hampton, between Cape Charles and Cape Henry, where the captain went on shore and got a pilot; and after about two days stay there, the pilot brought the vessel down Mile's River, and cast anchor in Talbot county, when the captain ordered a gun to be fired as a signal for the planters to come down, and then went ashore. He soon after sent on board a hogshead of rum, and ordered all the men prisoners to be close shaved against the next morning, and the women to have their best head-dresses put on, which occasioned no little hurry on board; for, between the trimming of beards, and putting on of caps, all hands were fully employed.

Early in the morning the captain ordered public notice to be given of the day of sale; and the prisoners, who were pretty near a hundred, were all ordered upon deck, where a large bowl of punch was made, and the planters flocked on board; their first inquiry was for letters from old England, what passage he had, how their friends did, and the like.

The captain informed them of the war being declared against Spain, that it was expected it would soon be declared against France; and that he had been eleven weeks and four days in his passage.

Their next inquiry was, if the captain had brought them good store of joiners, carpenters, blacksmiths, weavers, and tailors; upon which the captain called out one Griffy, a tailor, who had lived at Chumleigh, in the county of Devon, and was obliged to take a voyage to Maryland, for making too free with his neighbour's sheep. Two planters, who were parson Nicholas and Mr. Rolls, asked him if he was sound wind and limb? and told him it would be worse for him if he told them an untruth; and at last purchased him from the captain. The poor tailor cried and bellowed like a bell-wether, cursing his wife who had betrayed him. Mr. Carew, like a brave man, to whom every soil is his own country, ashamed of his cowardice, gave the tailor to the devil; and, as he knew he could not do without them, sent his shears, thimble, and needle, to bear him company. Wherefore all these wailings? said our hero: have we not a fine country before us? pointing to the shore. And indeed in this he was very right, for Maryland not only affords every thing which preserves and confirms health, but also all things that are charming. The beauty of the prospect, the fragrancy of the fields and gardens, the brightness of the sky, and the serenity of the air, affect the ravished senses; the country being a large plain, and hills in it so easy of ascent, and of such a moderate height, that they seem rather an artificial ornament to it, than one of the accidents of nature. The abundance of rivers and brooks is no little help to the almost incredible fertility of the soil.

But to return.—When all the best tradesmen were bought up, a planter came to Mr. Carew, and asked him what trade he was of. Mr. Carew, to satisfy him of his usefulness, told him he was a rat-catcher, a mendicant, and a dog merchant.—What the devil trades are these? inquired the planter in astonishment; for I have never before heard of them: upon which the captain thinking he should lose the sale of him, takes the planter aside, and tells him he did but jest, being a man of humour, for that he was a great scholar, and was only sent over on account of having disobliged some gentlemen; that he had no indenture with him, but he should have him for seven years, and that he would make an excellent school-master; however, he did not buy him.

The next day the captain asked him to go on shore with him to see the country, but with a view of getting a purchaser for him among the planters. As they were walking, several people came up to Mr. Carew, and asked him what countryman he was, &c. At length they went to a tavern, where one Mr. David Huxter, who was formerly of Lyme in Dorset, and Mr. Hambleton, a Scotchman, seemed to have an inclination to buy him between them; soon after came in one Mr. Ashcraft, who put in for him too, and the bowl of punch went merrily round. In the midst of their mirth, Mr. Carew, who had given no consent to the bargain they were making for him, thought it no breach of honour or good manners to seize an opportunity of slipping away without taking leave of them; and taking away with him about a pint of brandy and some biscuit cakes, which by good luck he chanced to put his hand on, he immediately betook himself to the woods as the only place of security for him.

Mr. Carew, having found he had eluded their search, congratulated himself on his happy escape and deliverance; for he now made no doubt of getting to old England again, notwithstanding the difficulties which lay in his way, as he knew his courage was equal to every danger; but we are too often apt, as the proverb says, "to reckon without our host," and are sometimes near danger when we think ourselves most secure: and so it happened to our hero at this time; for, amidst his joyful reflections, he did not know that none were allowed to travel there, unless when known, without proper passes, of which he was not provided; and there is moreover a reward of five pounds for any one who apprehends a runaway.

It therefore happened, that one morning early, passing through a narrow path, he was met by four timbermen, going to work; he would fain have escaped their observation, but they soon hailed him, and demanded where he was going, and where his pass was? These were questions which he would willingly have been excused from answering; however, as his wit was always ready, he immediately told them he belonged to the Hector privateer, (which he knew then lay upon the coast,) and that he was going on some business for the captain to Charles' county:—but, as he could produce no pass, this would not satisfy them, so they seized upon him, and conducted him to one Colonel Brown's, a justice of the peace in Anne Arundel county.

But here, most gentle reader, that thou mayest not form a wrong idea of this justice, and, as is too often the case, judge of what thou hast not seen, from what thou hast seen, it will be necessary to inform thee, that he was not such a one as Hudibras describes:

An old dull sot, who told the clock, For many years at Bridewell dock.

Neither was he such a one as that excellent artist, Mr. Hogarth, has depicted in his picture of a Modern Midnight Conversation;—nor such a one as the author of Joseph Andrews has, above all authors, so inimitably drawn to the life; nor yet was he such a one as thou hast often seen at a quarter sessions, with a large wig, a heavy unmeaning countenance, and a sour aspect, who gravely nods over a cause, and then passes a decision on what he does not understand; and no wonder, when he, perhaps, never saw, much less read the laws of his country; but of Justice Brown, I can assure the reader, he could not only read, but upon occasion write a mittimus, without the assistance of his clerk; he was thoroughly acquainted with the general duties of his office, and the particular laws of Maryland; his countenance was an awful majesty, tempered with a humane sweetness, ever unwilling to punish, yet always afraid of offending justice; and if at any time necessity obliged him to use the rod, he did it with so much humanity and compassion, as plainly indicated the duties of his office forced, rather than the cruelty or haughtiness of his temper prompted to it; and while the unhappy criminal suffered a corporeal punishment, he did all that lay in his power, to the end that it might have a due effect, by endeavouring to amend the mind with salutary advice; if the exigencies of the state required taxes to be levied upon the subjects, he never, by his authority or office, excused himself from bearing his full proportion; nor even would he meanly submit to see any of his fellow-justices do so.

It was before such a justice Mr. Carew had the good fortune to be carried: they found him in his court-yard, just mounting his horse to go out, and he very civilly inquired their business; the timbermen told him they had got a runaway: the justice then inquired of Mr. Carew who he was: he replied he was a sea-faring man, belonging to the Hector privateer of Boston, captain Anderson, and as they could not agree, he had left the ship. The justice told him he was very sorry it should happen so, but he was obliged by the laws of his country to stop all passengers who could not produce passes; and, therefore, though unwillingly, he should be obliged to commit him; he then entertained him very plentifully with victuals and drink, and in the mean time made his commitment for New Town gaol. Mr. Carew, finding his commitment made, told the timbermen, that, as they got their money easily, he would have a horse to ride upon, for it was too hot for him to walk in that country. The justice merrily cried, Well spoken, prisoner. There was then a great ado with the timbermen to get a horse for him; but at last one was procured, and our hero, mounted on a milk-white steed, was conveyed in a sort of triumph to New Town, the timbermen performing the cavalcade on foot.

The commitment was directed to the under-sheriff in New Town, a saddler by profession, who immediately waited on him to the prison; he found it well peopled, and his ears were confused with almost as many dialects as put a stop to the building of Babel. Mr. Carew saluted them, and courteously inquired what countrymen they were: some were from Kilkenny, some Limeric, some Dublin, others of Somerset, Dorset, Devon, and Cornwall; so that he found he had choice enough of companions, and, as he saw he had no remedy but patience, he endeavoured to amuse himself as well as he could.

Looking through the bars one day, he espied a whipping-post and gallows, at which he turned to his companions, and cried out, A fine sight truly this is, my friends! which was a jest many of them could not relish, as they had before tasted of the whipping; looking on the other side, he saw a fine house, and demanding whose it was, they told him it was the assembly-house. While he was thus amusing himself, reflecting on the variety of his fate, fortune was preparing a more agreeable scene for him. A person coming up to the window, asked where the runaway was, who had been brought in that day, Mr. Carew composedly told him he was the man; they then entered into discourse, inquiring of each other of what country they were, and soon found they were pretty near neighbours, the person who addressed him being one out of Dorsetshire. While they were talking, our hero seeing the tops of some vessels riding in the river, inquired what place they belonged to. The man replied, To the west of England, to one Mr. Buck of Biddeford, to whom most of the town belonged. Our hero's heart leaped for joy at this good news, and he hastily asked if the captains Kenny, Hervey, Hopkins, and George Bird were there; the man replying in the affirmative, still heightened his satisfaction. Will you have the goodness to be an unfortunate prisoner's friend, said he to the person he was talking with, and present my humble duty to any of them, but particularly to Captain Hervey, and inform them I am here. The man very civilly replied he would do it; and asked what he should tell them was his name? Carew, replied our hero. Away ran the messenger with great haste, but before he got half way, forgetting the name ran back again to ask it. Tell them my name is Carew, the rat-catcher; away went the man again, repeating all the way, Carew, the rat-catcher, lest he should forget it a second time; and he now executed his message so well, that very soon after came the captains to the gaol door.

Inquiring for Carew, the rat-catcher, as they wanted to speak with him; our hero, who heard them, answered with a tantivy, and a halloo to the dogs; upon which Captain Hervey swore it was Carew, and fell a laughing very heartily, then coming to the window, they very cordially shook hands with him, saying, they should as soon have expected to have seen Sir Robert Walpole there as him. They then inquired by what means he came there; and he informed them circumstantially of every thing as already mentioned. The captains asked him if he would drink a glass of rum, which he accepted of very gladly in his present condition; one of them quickly sent down to the storehouse for a bottle of rum and a bottle of October, and then they all went into the gaol, and sat down with him.

Thus did he see himself once more surrounded by his friends, so that he scarcely regretted his meeting with the timbermen, as they had brought him into such good company. He was so elevated with his good fortune, that he forgot all his misfortunes, and passed the evening as cheerfully as if he was neither a slave nor a prisoner. The captains inquired if he had been sold to a planter before he made his escape; he replied in the negative, when they informed him, that unless his captain came and demanded him, he would be publicly sold the next court-day. When they took their leaves, they told him they would see him the next morning.

Accordingly they returned very early, and having got admittance into the prison, hailed him with the pleasing sound of liberty, telling him, they had agreed among themselves to purchase him, then give him his release, and furnish him with proper passes; but instead of receiving this joyful news with the transports they expected, our hero stood for some time silent and lost in thought. During this while, he reflected within himself, whether his honour would permit him to purchase his liberty on these terms: and it was indeed no little struggle which passed in his breast on this occasion. On the one side, Liberty, with all her charms, presented herself, and wooed to be accepted, supported by Fear, who set before his eyes all the horrors and cruelties of a severe slavery; on the other side, dame Honour, with a majestic mein, forbade him, sounding loudly in his ears how it would read in future story, that the ingenious Mr. Carew had no contrivance left to regain his lost liberty, but meanly to purchase it at his friends' expense. For some time did these passions remain in equipoise; as thou hast often seen the scales of some honest tradesman, before he weighs his commodity; but at length honour preponderated, and liberty and fear flew up and kicked the beam; he therefore told the captains he had the most grateful sense of this instance of their love, but that he could never consent to purchase his freedom at their expense: and therefore desired they would only do him the favour to acquaint Captain Froade of his being there. The captains were quite amazed at this resolution, and used great entreaties to persuade him to alter it, but all in vain; so that at last they were obliged to comply with his earnest request, in writing to Captain Froade.

Captain Froade received with great pleasure the news of his being in custody in New Town, and soon sent round his long-boat, paid all costs and charges, and brought him once more on board his ship. The captain received him with a great deal of malicious satisfaction in his countenance, telling him in a taunting manner, that, though he had promised Sir William Courtney to be at home before him, he should find himself damnably mistaken; and then with a tyrannic tone bade him strip, calling the boatswain to bring up a cat-o'-nine-tails, and tie him fast up to the main geers; accordingly our hero was obliged to undergo a cruel and shameful punishment. Here, gentle reader, if thou hast not a heart made of something harder than adamant, thou canst not choose but melt at the sufferings of our hero; he, who but just before, did what would have immortalised the name of Caesar or Alexander, is now rewarded for it with cruel and ignominious stripes, far from his native country, wife, children, or any friends, and still doomed to undergo severe hardships. As soon as the captain had satisfied his revenge, he ordered Mr. Carew on shore, taking him to a blacksmith, whom he desired to make a heavy iron collar for him, which in Maryland they call a pot-hook, and is usually put about the necks of runaway slaves. When it was fastened on, the captain jeeringly cried, Now run away if you can; I will make you help to load this vessel, and then I'll take care of you, and send you to the ironworks of Susky Hadlam.

Captain Froade soon after left the vessel, and went up to a storehouse at Tuckhoe, and the first mate to Kent island, whilst the second mate and boatswain kept the ship; in the mean time our hero was employed in loading the vessel, and doing all manner of drudgery. Galled with a heavy yoke and narrowly watched, he began to lose all hopes of escape; his spirits now began to fail him, and he almost gave himself up to despair, little thinking his deliverance so near at hand, as he found it soon to be.

One day, as he was employed in his usual drudgery, reflecting within himself upon his unhappy condition, he unexpectedly saw his good friends, Captains Hervey and Hopkins, two of the Biddeford captains, who, as has been before related, had offered to redeem him from the prison at New Town; he was overjoyed at the sight of them, not that he expected any deliverance from them, but only as they were friends he had been so much obliged to.

The captains came up and inquired very kindly how it fared with him, and how he bore the drudgery they saw him employed in; adding, that he had better have accepted the offer they made him at New Town. Our hero gallantly replied, that however severe the hardships he underwent, and were they still more so, he would rather choose to suffer them, than purchase liberty at their cost. The captains, charmed with his magnanimity, were resolved to make one attempt more to get him his liberty. They soon after sounded the boatswain and mate; and finding them not greatly averse to give him an opportunity to escape, they took him aside, and thus addressed him:—Friend Carew, the offer we made you at New Town may convince you of the regard we have for you; we therefore cannot think of leaving the country before we have, by some means or other, procured your liberty; we have already sounded the boatswain and mate, and find we can bring them to wink at your escape; but the greatest obstacle is, that there is forty pounds penalty and half a year's imprisonment, for any one that takes off your iron collar, so that you must be obliged to travel with it, till you come among the friendly Indians, many miles distant from hence, who will assist you to take it off, for they are great friends with the English, and trade with us for lattens, kettles, frying-pans, gunpowder and shot; giving us in exchange buffalo and deer skins, with other sorts of furs. But there are other sorts of Indians, one of which are distinguished by a very flat forehead, who use cross-bows in fighting; the other of a very small stature, who are great enemies, and very cruel to the whites; these you must endeavour by all means to avoid, for if you fall into their hands, they will certainly murder you.

And here the reader will, we make no doubt, be pleased to see some account of the Indians, among whom our hero was treated with so much kindness and civility, as we shall relate in its proper place.

At the first settling of Maryland, there were several nations of them governed by petty kings. Mr. Calvert, Lord Baltimore's brother having been sent by him to make the first settlement in Maryland, landed at Potowmac town; during the infancy of Werowance, Archibau, his uncle, who governed his territories in his minority, received the English in a friendly manner. From Potowmac the governor proceeded to Piscataqua, about 20 leagues higher, where he found many Indians assembled, and among them an Englishman, Captain Henry Fleet, who had lived there several years in great esteem with the natives. Captain Fleet brought the prince on board the governor's pinnace to treat with him. Mr. Calvert asked him, whether he was agreeable that he and his people should settle in his country. The prince replied, I will not bid you go, neither will I bid you stay, but you may use your own discretion. The Indians, finding their prince stay longer on board than they expected, crowded down to the water-side to look after him, fearing the English had killed him, and they were not satisfied till he showed himself to them, to please them. The natives, who fled from St. Clement's isle, when they saw the English come as friends, returned to their habitations; and the governor, not thinking it advisable to settle so high up the river in the infancy of the colony, sent his pinnaces down the river, and went with Captain Fleet to a river on the north side of the Potowmac, within four or five leagues, in his long-boat, and came to the town of Yoamaco, from which the Indians of that neighbourhood are called Yoamacoes. The governor landed, and treating with the prince there, acquainted him with the occasion of his coming, to whom the Indian said little, but invited him to his house, entertained him kindly, and gave him his own bed to lie on. The next day he showed him the country, and the governor determining to make the first settlement there, ordered all his ships and pinnaces to come thither to him.

To make his entry the more safe and peaceable, he presented the Werowance and Wilsos, and principal men of the place, with some English cloth, axes, hoes and knives, which they accepted very kindly, and freely consented that he and his company should dwell in one part of the town, and reserving the other for themselves. Those Indians who inhabited that part which was assigned to the English, readily abandoned their houses to them; and Mr. Calvert immediately set hands to work to plant corn. The natives agreed further to leave the whole town to the English as soon as their harvest was in; which they did accordingly, and both English and Indians promised to live friendly together. If any injury was done on either part, the nation offending was to make satisfaction. Thus, on the 27th March, 1634, the governor took possession of the town, and named it St. Mary's.

There happened an event which much facilitated this with the Indians. The Susquehanocks, a warlike people, dwelling between Chesapeak Bay and Delaware Bay, were wont to make incursions on their neighbours, partly for dominion and partly for booty, of which the women were most desired by them. The Yoamacoes, fearing these Susquehanocks, had a year before the English arrived, resolved to desert their habitations, and remove higher into the country; many of them were actually gone, and the rest prepared to follow them. The ships and pinnaces arriving at the town, the Indians were amazed and terrified at the sight of them, especially at hearing their cannon thunder, when they came to anchor.

The first thing that Mr. Calvert did was to fix a court of guard, and erect a storehouse; and he had not been there many days before Sir John Harvey, governor of Virginia, came there to visit him, as did several of the Indian Werowances, and many other Indians, from several parts of the continent; among others, came the king of Patuxent, and, being carried aboard the ship, then at anchor in the river, was placed between the governor of Virginia and the governor of Maryland, at an entertainment made for him and others. A Patuxent Indian coming aboard, and seeing his king thus seated, started back; thinking he was surprised, he would have fain leaped overboard, and could not be persuaded to enter the cabin, till the Werowance came himself, and satisfied him he was in no danger. This king had formerly been taken prisoner by the English of Virginia. After the storehouse was finished and the ship unladen, Mr. Calvert ordered the colours to be brought ashore, which was done with great solemnity, the gentlemen and their servants attending in arms: several volleys were fired on board and on shore, as also the cannon, at which the natives were struck with admiration, such at least as had not heard the firing of pieces of ordnance before, to whom it could not be dreadful.

The kings of Patuxent and Yoamaco were present at this ceremony, with many other Indians of Yoamaco; and the Werowance of Patuxent took that occasion to advise the Indians of Yoamaco to be careful to keep the league that had been made with the English. He staid in town several days, and was full of his Indian compliments; when he went away he made this speech to the governor: "I love the English so well, that, should they go about to kill me, if I had so much breath as to speak, I would command my people not to revenge my death, for I know they would not do such a thing, except it were through my own fault."

This infant colony supplied themselves with Indian corn at Barbadoes, which, at their first arrival, they began to use to save their French store of flour and oatmeal. The Indian women, perceiving that their servants did not know how to dress it, made their bread for them, and taught them to do it themselves. There was Indian corn enough in the country, and these new adventurers soon after shipped off 10,000 bushels for New England, to purchase salt fish and other provisions. While the English and Indians lived at St. Mary's together, the natives went every day to hunt with the new comers for deer and turkeys, which, when they had caught, they gave to the English, or sold for knives, beads, and such like trifles. They also brought them good store of fish, and behaved themselves very kindly, suffering their women and children to come among them, which was a certain sign of their confidence in them.

Most of the Indians still follow the religion and customs of their ancestors; and are not become either more pious or more polite by the company of the English.

As to their religion, they have all of them some dark notions about God; but some of them have brighter ones, if a person may be believed who had this confession from the mouth of an Indian: "That they believed God was universally beneficent; that his dwelling was in heaven above, and the influence of his goodness reached to the earth beneath; that he was incomprehensible in his excellence, and enjoyed all possible felicity; that his duration was eternal, his perfection boundless, and that he possessed everlasting happiness." So far the savage talked as rationally of the existence of a God as a Christian divine or philosopher could have done; but when he came to justify their worshipping of the Devil, whom they call Okee, his notions were very heterodox. He said, "It is true God is the giver of all good things, but they flow naturally and promiscuously from him; that they are showered down upon all men without distinction; that God does not trouble himself with the impertinent affairs of men, nor is concerned at what they do, but leaves them to make the most of their free will, and to secure as many as they can of the good things that flow from him; that therefore it was to no purpose either to fear or worship him; but, on the contrary, if they did not pacify the evil spirit, he would ruin their health, peace, and plenty, he being always visiting them in the air, thunders, storms, &c."

As to the idol which they all worship, and is kept in a temple called Quiocasan, he seemed to have a very different opinion of its divinity, and cried out against the juggling of the priests.—This man did not talk like a common savage, and therefore we may suppose he had studied the matter more than his countrymen, who, for the generality, paid a great deal of devotion to the idol, and worshipped him as their chief deity.

Their priests and conjurors are highly reverenced by them. They are given extremely to pawning or conjuring; and one of them very lately conjured a shower of rain for a gentleman's plantation, in a time of drought, for two bottles of rum. We are not apt to give credit to such supernatural events; and, had we not found this in an author who was on the spot, we should have rejected it as a fable.

Their priests promise fine women, eternal spring, and every pleasure in perfection in the other world, which charmed them in this; and threaten them with lakes of fire, and torments by a fairy in the shape of an old woman. They are often bloody in their sacrifices, and offer up young children to the devil. They have a superstitious ceremony among them, which they call Huskanawing, and is performed thus: they shut up ten or twelve young men, the most deserving among them, about twenty years of age, in a strong inclosure, made on purpose, like a sugar loaf, and every way open like a lattice, for the air to pass through; they are kept for several months, and are allowed to have no sustenance but the infusion or decoction of poisonous intoxicating roots, which turn their brains, and they run stark mad.

By this it is pretended they lose the remembrance of all former things, even of their parents, treasure, and language, as if they had drunk of the water of oblivion, drawn out of the lake of Lethe. When they have been in this condition as long as their custom directs, they lessen this intoxicating potion; and, by degrees, the young men recover the use of their senses; but before they are quite well, they are shown in their towns; and the youths who have been huskanawed are afraid to discover the least sign of their remembering any thing of their past lives; for, in such a case, they must be huskanawed again, and they are disciplined so severely the second time, that it generally kills them.

After the young men have passed this trial, they are Coucarouses, or men of quality in their nations; and the Indians say they do it to take away from youth all childish impressions, and that strong partiality to persons and things which is contracted before reason takes place.

The Indian priests, to command the respect of the people, make themselves look as ugly and as terrible as they can; the conjurors always share with them in their deceit, and they gain by it; the Indians consult both of them before they go on any enterprise. There are no priestesses or witches among them. They erect altars on every remarkable occasion, and have temples built like their common cabins, in which their idol stands, and the corpses of their kings and rulers are preserved.

They have no sort of literature among them; and their way of communicating things from one to another is by hieroglyphics. They make their accounts by units, tens, hundreds, &c., as the English do; but they reckon their years by cohonks, or winters, and divide every year into five seasons; the budding time, the earing of the corn, the summer, the harvest, and the winter.

Their months they count by moons. They divide the day into three parts, the rise, power, and lowering, of the sun; and keep their accounts by knots on a string, or notches on a stick, of which Captain Smith relates a very pleasant story; that, when the princess Pocahonta went for England, a Coucarouse, or lord of her own nation, attended her; his name was Uttamaccomack: and king Powhatan, Pocahonta's father, commanded him, when he arrived in England, to count the people, and give him an account of their number. Uttamaccomock, when he came ashore, got a stick, intending to count them by notches; but he soon found that his arithmetic would be to no purpose, and threw away his stick. At his return, the king asked him how many people there were? and he replied, count the stars of the sky, the leaves upon the trees, and the sand upon the seashore, and you will know how many are the people in England.

They esteem the marriage-vow as the most sacred of all engagements, and abhor divorces; adultery is the most unpardonable of all crimes amongst them, and seldom occurs without exemplary punishment.

Their maidens are very chaste; and if any one of them happen to have a child before marriage, her fortune is spoiled. They are very sprightly and good humoured, and the women generally handsome. Their manner of handling infants is very rough: as soon as the child is born, they plunge it over head and ears in cold water, and they bind it naked to a board, making a hole in the proper place for evacuation. Between the child and the board they put some cotton, wool, or fur, and let it lie in this posture till the bones begin to harden, the joints to knit, and the limbs to grow strong; they then loosen it from the board, and let it crawl about where it pleases. From this custom, it is said, the Indians derive the neatness and exactness of their limbs, which are the most perfect in the world. Some of them are of a gigantic stature, live to a great age, and are stronger than others; but there is not a crooked, bandy-legged, or ill-shaped, Indian to be seen. Some nations of them are very tall and large limbed, but others are short and small; their complexion is a dark brown and tawny. They paint themselves with a pecone root, which stains them a reddish colour. They are clear when they are young, but greasing and sunning make their skin turn hard and black. Their hair, for the most part, is coal black; so are their eyes; they wear their hair cut after several whimsical modes, the persons of note always keep a long lock behind; the women wearing it very long, hanging at their backs, or twisted up with beads; and all the better sort adorn their heads with a kind of coronet. The men have no beards, and, to prevent their having any, use certain devices, which they will not communicate to the English.

Their clothes are a mantle girt close in the middle, and underneath a piece of cloth tied round their waist, and reaching down to the middle of the thigh. The common sort only tie a piece of cloth or skin round the middle. As for their food they boil, broil, or roast, all the meat they eat; honomy is the standing dish, and consists of Indian corn soaked, broken in a mortar, and then boiled in water over a gentle fire ten or twelve hours together. They draw and pluck their fowls, skin and paunch their quadrupeds, but dress their fish with the scales on, and without gutting; they leave the scales, entrails, and bones, till they eat the fish, when they throw the offal away. Their food is chiefly beeves, turtle, several species of snakes, broth made of deer's humbles, peas, beans, &c. They have no set meals: they eat when they are hungry, and drink nothing but water. Their bread is made of Indian corn, wild oats, or the seed of the sun-flower; they eat it alone, and not with meat.

They travel always on foot with a gun or bow. They live upon the game they kill, and lie under a tree upon a little high grass. The English prohibit them to keep corn, sheep, or hogs, lest they should steal their neighbour's.

When they come to rivers, they presently patch up a canoe of birch bark, cross over in it, and leave it on the river's bank, if they think they shall not want it; otherwise they carry it along with them.

Their way of receiving strangers is by the pipe, or calumet of peace. Of this Pere Henepin has given a long account in his voyage, and the pipe is as follows: they fill a pipe of tobacco, larger and bigger than any common pipe, light it, and then the chief of them takes a whiff, gives it to the stranger, and if he smoke of it, it is peace; if not, war; if peace, the pipe is handed all round the company.

The diseases of the Indians are very few, and easy to be cured: they for the most part arise from excessive heats and colds, which they get rid of by sweating. As for aches, and settled pains in the joints or limbs, they use caustics and scarifying. The priests are their physicians, and from their childhood are taught the nature and use of simples, in which their knowledge is excellent; but they will not communicate it, pretending it is a gift of God; and by this mystery they make it the more valuable.

Their riches consist of furs, peak, roenocke, and pearl. Their peak and roenocke are made of shells; the peak is an English bugle, but the roenocke is a piece of cockle, drilled through like a bead. Before the English came among them, the peak and the roenocke were all their treasure; but now they set a value on their fur and pearl, and are greedy of keeping quantities of them together. The pearl is good, and formerly was not so rare as it is at this time.

They had no iron tools till the English brought them over: their knives were sharpened reeds or shells, their axes sharp stones. They rubbed fire, by turning the end of a hard piece of wood upon the side of one that is soft and dry, which at last would burn. They felled great trees by burning them down at the root, having ways of keeping the fire from ascending. They hollowed them with a gentle fire, and scraped the trunk clean, and this made their canoes, of which some were thirty feet long. They are very good handicraft men, and what they do is generally neat and convenient.

Their kingdoms descended to the next heir, male or female, and they were exact in preserving the succession in the right line. If, as it often happened, one great prince subjected the other, those conquests commonly were lost at his death, and the nation returned again to the obedience of their natural princes. They have no written laws, neither can they have any, having no letters.

Their lands are in common, and their Werowances, or judges, are all lord-chancellors, deciding causes and inflicting punishments according as they think fit. These Werowances and the Coucarouses are their terms to distinguish the men of quality; the former are their war-captains, and the latter such as have passed the trial of huskanawing. Their priests and conjurors have great authority among them. They have servants whom they call black boys, and are very exact in requiring the respect that is due to their several qualities.

Most of the Indians live on the eastern shore, where they have two or three little towns; some of them go over to the other side, in winter time, to hunt for deer, being generally employed by the English. They take delight in nothing else, and it is very rare that any of them will embrace the Christian way of living and worship. There are about 500 fighting Indians in all the province; the cause of their diminution proceeded not from wars with the English, for they have none with them worth speaking of, but from the perpetual discords and wars among themselves. The female sex have always swept away a great many.

One thing is observed in them, though they are a people very timorous and cowardly in fight, yet when taken prisoners and condemned, they will die like heroes, braving the most exquisite tortures that can be invented, and singing all the time they are upon the rack.

We find several of the Indians doing actions which would do honour to the greatest heroes of antiquity: thus captain Smith, who was one of the first adventurers in planting the colony of Virginia, being taken prisoner, while he was making discoveries, by king Oppecamcanough, he not only spared Mr. Smith's life, but carried him to his town and feasted him; and afterwards presented him to Powhaton, the chief king of the savages, who would have beheaded him, had he not been saved by the intercession and generosity of his daughter, Pocahonto, who, when Mr. Smith's head was on the block, and she could not prevail with her father to give him his life, put her own head upon his, and ventured receiving the blow to save him, though she was scarce then sixteen years of age.

Some time after, Sir Thomas Dale sent captain Argall to Patowmac to buy corn, where he met with Pocahonta. He invited her to come aboard his ship, which with some difficulty she consented to, being betrayed by the king of Postcany, brother to the king of Patowmac, with whom she then resided.

Argall, having got her into his custody, detained her, and carried her to James's Town, intending to oblige her father, king Powhaton, to come to what terms he pleased for the deliverance of his daughter. Though the king loved her tenderly, yet he would not do any thing for her sake which he thought was not for his own and the nation's interest; nor would he be prevailed upon to conclude a firm treaty of peace till he heard his daughter, who had turned a Christian, was christened Rebecca, and married to Mr. John Rolfe, an English gentleman, her uncle giving her away in the church.

Powhaton approved of the marriage, took it for a sincere token of friendship, and was so pleased with it, that he concluded a league with the English in the year 1613.

Some time after, Sir Thomas Dale going for England, took Mr. Rolfe and his wife Pocahonta with him, and arrived at Plymouth.

Captain Smith, hearing the lady who had been so kind to him was arrived in England, and being engaged at that time in a voyage to New England, which hindered his waiting on her himself, petitioned queen Anne, consort to king James, on her behalf, setting forth the civilities he had received from her, and obligations she had laid upon the English, by the service she had done them with her father.

The queen received this petition very graciously; and before Captain Smith embarked for New England, Mr. Rolfe came with his wife from Plymouth to London. The smoke of the city offending her, he took lodgings for her at Brentford, and thither Captain Smith went with several friends to wait on her.

Pocahonta was told all along that Captain Smith was dead, to excuse his not coming to Virginia again; from which he had been diverted by settling a colony in New England. Wherefore, when this lady saw him, thinking the English had injured her in telling her a falsity, which she had ill deserved from them, she was so angry that she would not deign to speak to him: but at last, with much persuasion and attendance, was reconciled, and talked freely to him: she then put him in mind of the obligations she had laid upon him, and reproached him for forgetting her, with an air so lively, and words so sensible, that one might have seen nature abhors nothing more than ingratitude—a vice that even the very savages detest.

She was carried to court by the Lady Delaware, and entertained by ladies of the first quality, towards whom she behaved herself with so much grace and majesty, that she confirmed the bright character Captain Smith had given of her. The whole court was charmed with the decency and grandeur of her deportment so much, that the poor gentleman, her husband, was threatened to be called to an account for marrying a princess royal without the king's consent; though in that king James showed a very notable piece of kingcraft, for there was no likelihood that Mr. Rolfe, by marrying Pocahonta, could any way endanger the peace of his dominions; or that his alliance with the king of Wicomaco could concern the king of Great-Britain; indeed, we are told, that upon a fair and full representation of the matter, the king was pleased to be satisfied.

The lady Pocahonta, having been entertained with all manner of respect in England, was taken ill at Gravesend, where she lay in order to embark for Virginia; she died there with all the signs of a sincere Christian and true penitent.

She had one son by Mr. Rolfe, whose posterity are at this day in good repute in Virginia, and inherit lands by descent from her.

The language of the Indians is lofty, but narrow; the accent and emphasis of some of their words are great and sweet, as Okorocston, Rancoce, Oriston, Shakameton, Poquiffin, all names of places, and as sonorous as any in Attica; then for sweetness they have their anna, mother, issimus, brother, nelapsin and usque oret, very good, pone, bread, morridge walk, a burying-place, scaw, a woman, salop, a man, pappoes, a child.

The captains acquainted Mr. Carew, that the unfriendly Indians were not the only enemies he had to fear, for he must expect to encounter with great dangers and difficulties, as rattle-snakes, horn-snakes, black-snakes, lions, leopards, bears, wolves, and wild cats. However this did not dishearten our hero, for he was resolved to attempt regaining his liberty, let the consequence be what it would. The captains then gave him a pocket-compass to steer by, a steel and tinder-box, a bag of cakes, a cheese, and some rum, telling him, he must leave the three-notched road a little way off, and steer to his left hand; (in Maryland they distinguish the roads by letters or notches cut on the trees;) that he must travel by night, and lie concealed in the day, for forty miles, and then he would come to a part of the country quite uninhabited; from thence he would enter the Indian country. They likewise told him, that all the wild beasts were afraid of fire, so that his best defence would be to strike a light and kindle some sticks whenever he was apprehensive of being attacked by any of them.

Our hero having received these and some other necessary instructions, and having returned his generous benefactors many thanks for their kindness, bidding them farewell with tears, set out on his dangerous journey about three o'clock in the afternoon. He had not travelled far, before he began to reflect on his melancholy condition, alone, unarmed, unacquainted with the way, galled with the heavy yoke, exposed every moment to the most imminent dangers, and dark tempestuous night approaching with all its horrors, increased its terrors; his ears were now assailed with the dismal yells and crying of wild beasts of different sorts, but, remembering the instructions he had received from the captains, he soon struck fire, and kindled some sticks, and was obliged the whole night to swing a fireband round his head; the sight of which kept the wild beasts from coming near, for, though they often came and looked at him, yet they soon turned tail again, seeing the fire.

However it was with great joy he saw day-light appear, at first dawn of which he was quite freed from those troublesome guests; he had nothing to do but to seek the thickest tree he could find, and, climbing up into it, he took some refreshment of sleep, which he had great need of, having travelled hard all night. He afterwards eat sparingly of his cheese and biscuit, fearing they might not last till he could get a fresh supply, and then took a very large dram of rum, with which, finding his spirits much refreshed, and night coming on, he began his journey again, travelling in the same manner as the preceding night, with a firebrand whirling round his head. In this manner travelling by night, and concealing himself by day, he went on four days, when he reached the Blue Mountains, where he thought himself out of all danger of pursuit, or being stopped for want of a pass. He now travelled by day, meeting with great multitudes of buffaloes, black bears, deer, wolves, and wild turkeys, the latter being so large as to weigh thirty or forty pounds; none of these creatures offered to attack him; but walking one day on the side of a small rivulet, almost lost in thought, he was suddenly alarmed by something he heard plunging into the water, and turning his head to the side from whence the noise came, he was struck with the sight of a great white bear, which, being likewise disturbed, raised itself immediately and made towards him. Our hero now thought there was no way to escape; however, with great presence of mind, he stepped aside to a furze bush, and, striking a light with all the haste he could, set it on fire; at the sight of which the bear, who was now within a very small distance of him, turned about, and went away roaring hideously.

Some time after this he was comically alarmed by an inoffensive animal; as he was walking along a deer-track, he chanced to spy a very fine tortoise-shell box, as he imagined, though he could not conceive how it could be dropped there; and, thinking he might make good advantage of it among the Indians, claps it into his pocket; he had not gone far before he heard a hissing noise, which seemed to be very near; he immediately thought it to be some venomous snake, and endeavoured to avoid it by going out of the path he was in; but still the noise seemed to pursue him; at last looking down, he sees a little ugly black head peeping out of his pocket, which he found came out of what he had picked up for a box: he with much ado slips his fingers into his pocket, takes out his supposed box, and flings it to the ground, when the creature, opening the upper from the under shell, marched away; this was, as he afterwards found, no other than a land-tortoise.

He found his journey very often obstructed by rivers and rivulets, which he was obliged either to wade through or swim over. At length, after many days' tiresome travel, being grievously galled by his yoke, or collar, he discovered several tracks of the Indians. Never did more different passions agitate the breast of any man than did the breast of our hero at this time; on the one side he was overjoyed at the sight of the track of any human creature, thinking he should now get rid of his heavy collar, as well as get some refreshment of provisions, his own having been exhausted for almost two days past; but he had not pleased himself long with this reflection before the idea of the barbarous and unfriendly Indians struck into his mind, for he was quite uncertain whether the footsteps he discovered might lead him to the good and friendly Indians, or to those barbarous and inhuman wretches; he now represented himself as set upon by these, against whom he had no arms to defend himself, cruelly tormented, and at last slain as a victim in some of their bloody sacrifices.

It was about the evening when he discovered these footsteps, and he passed the whole night in this tormenting suspense. Very early in the morning he discovered five Indians at a distance; his fears represented them in the most frightful colours; they seemed of a gigantic stature, that he thought he could perceive their faces to be very flat and broad, which was the characteristic or mark of the unfriendly Indians. This struck him with unusual dread, and he now gave himself over for lost, when he saw they had espied him, and were making towards him: they coming nearer, he perceived them to be clothed in deer skins, their hair to be exceeding long, hanging down a great way over their shoulders; and, to his inexpressible joy, he distinguished they had guns in their hands, which was a sure sign they were the friendly Indians. This raised his spirits, and he approached them in a suppliant manner, making signs that he craved their assistance. The Indians accosted him with clapping their hands on their heads, and crying hush me a top, which in their language signifies good-morrow; then taking hold of his collar, they repeated one to another, in broken English, a runaway! a runaway! Presently after came up two more Indians, one of whom was a person of fine majestic appearance, whose dress was by far more magnificent than any of the others. His habit being a most beautiful panther's skin faced with fur: his hair was adorned with a great variety of fine feathers, and his face painted with a great many colours. By these marks of distinction, Mr. Carew supposed him to be their king or prince, and indeed such he was; he spoke very good English, and accosted him as the others had done before. He then brought him to the wigwam, which is a name they give their houses, which are no more than stakes driven into the ground, covered over with deer or other skins. Here, observing that our hero was grievously hurt by his collar, this good king immediately set himself about freeing him from it; but, as he had no proper tool for that purpose, he was at a great loss how to execute it; but at last, taking the steel of Mr. Carew's tinder-box, he jagged it into a kind of saw, with which he cut off his collar, but not without much labour, his majesty sweating heartily at the work. He then carried him into his own wigwam, which appeared very handsomely furnished. Here he ordered some Indian bread, and other refreshments, to be set before Mr. Carew, who ate very heartily. During this the prince acquainted him his name was George Lillycraft; that his father was one of those kings who were in England in the reign of Queen Anne; and then showed him some fine laced clothes, which were made a present of to him by the late king George of England (meaning his late majesty king George the First); he expressed a great affection for his brother kings of England, as he called them, and for the English nation in general. Soon after came in the queen, dressed in a short jacket, leading in her hand a young prince, who both repeated the word runaway twice.

Next day the king presented him to the wisos, or chief men of the town, who received him with a great deal of civility, and tokens of high esteem. He ate every day at the king's table, and had a lodging assigned to him in his wigwam, and grew every day more and more in esteem among them, being consulted in all matters of difficulty. Thus sudden are the scenes of life shifted and changed; for a brave man will never despair under whatsoever misfortunes; for our hero, who but a few weeks before was treated like a beast of burden, heavily loaded, cruelly whipped, coarsely fed, and all by the insolence and inhumanity of his own countrymen, is now seated, in a strange country, with kings and princes, and consulted by a whole nation.

King Lillycraft, who was a man of very good natural sense, used to discourse with, and ask Mr. Carew many questions of the customs and manners of his brother kings in England. Being told one day that the king of England never stirred abroad without being surrounded with a great number of armed men, whom he paid for defending him, and fighting for him, he very simply asked whom he was afraid of? or whether he was constantly at war with any neighbouring king, who might fall upon him unawares? Being told to the contrary, he expressed very great surprise, and could not conceive of what use these armed men were, when the king had no enemy, adding, when I am at war, my people are my guard, and fight for me without being paid for it, and would each of them lay down his life to defend mine; and when I am at peace, I can fear no evil from my own people, therefore I have no need of armed men about me. Being told another time that the king of England kept himself generally in his wigwam, or palace, surrounded by certain officers, who permitted no one to come near him but by their permission, which was the greatest difficulty in the world to obtain, and that not a thousandth part of the people, who lived in the town where the palace was, had ever seen him in their lives, he turned away from Mr. Carew in a passion, telling him, He was certain he deceived him, and belied his good brother of England: for how, added he, can he be the king of a people whom he hath no knowledge of? or how can he be beloved by his subjects who have never seen him? how can he redress their grievances, or provide for their wants? how can he lead his people against their enemies? or how know what his subjects stand in need of, in the distant parts of the kingdom, if he so seldom stirs out of his wigwam? Being told that the king of England was informed of, and transacted all this by means of the officers that were about him, he replied, It might be so; but if he should ever chance to go to England, he should talk with his good friend the king upon these matters, as he could not clearly apprehend how they could be. For my part, added he, I know and am known by all my subjects. I appear daily among them, hear their complaints, redress their grievances, and am acquainted with every place in my kingdom. Being told the people of England paid their king, yearly, vasts sums out of the profits of their labour, he laughed, and cried, O poor king! adding, I have often given to my subjects, but never received any thing from them.

Hunting being the principal employment and diversion of the Indians, at which they are very expert, Mr. Carew had an opportunity of gratifying, to the utmost, his taste for this diversion, there scarcely passing a day but he was a party amongst them at some hunting match or other, and most generally with the king himself. He was now grown into such great respect among them, that they offered him a wife out of the principal families of the place, nearly related to the king; but our hero, notwithstanding these honours, could not forget his native country, the love of which glowed within his breast; he had therefore, for some time, formed the design of leaving them, and, very soon after, found an opportunity of doing so.

One day, being out a hunting, they chanced to fall in company with some other Indians, near the river Delaware. When the chase was over, they sat down to be merry together, and having got some rum amongst them, they drank pretty freely, and fell to singing and dancing after their country fashion.

Mr. Carew took this opportunity of slipping away, and, going down to the river side, seized one of the canoes. Though he was entirely unacquainted with the method of managing them, he boldly pushed from shore, landing near Newcastle in Pennsylvania; the place he crossed over being called Duck's Creek, which communicates with the great Delaware. Mr. Carew being now got, as it were, among his countrymen again, soon transformed himself into a quaker: pulling off the button from his hat, and flapping it on every side, he put on as demure and precise a look, as if his whole family had been quakers, and he had never seen any other sort of people. Here, reader, it will be necessary to remark, that, as our hero is no longer amongst simple honest Indians, neither polite, lettered, nor deceitful, but among polished people, whose knowledge has taught them to forget the ways of nature, and to act every thing in disguise; whose hearts and tongues are as far distant asunder, as the North from the South pole, and who daily over-reach one another in the most common occurrences of life; we hope it will be no disgrace to our hero if among such he appears polished as the best, and puts on a fresh disguise as often as it suits his convenience.

The first house he went to was a barber's, of whose assistance he had indeed need enough, not having shaved his beard since he left the ship: here he told a moving story, saying his name was John Elworth, of Bristol; that he had been artfully kidnapped by one Samuel Ball, of the same place, and gone through great hardships in making his escape. The good barber moved by his tale, willingly lent his assistance to take off his beard; during the operation, he entered into a good deal of chat, telling him his father was of Exeter; and, when he went away, gave him a half-crown bill, and he recommended him to Mr. Wiggil, a quaker of the same place. Here he told his moving story again, and got a ten-shilling bill from Mr. Wiggil, with recommendations to the rest of the quakers of the place, among whom he got a great deal of money. When he took his leave, he was recommended by them to the quakers of a town called Castile. Here he found a great deal of favour, and made the best of his way to Brandywine-Ferry, in which is room enough to lay up the whole royal navy of England; and from thence to Chester, so called, because the people who first settled there came for the most part from Cheshire. It contains above a hundred houses, and a very good road for shipping, the Delaware, on which it stands, being about three miles over. Here are a court-house and a prison. This place is also called Upland, and has a church dedicated to St. Paul, with a numerous congregation of those whom, exclusive of all other Christians, we call orthodox. Mr. Carew came here on Sunday, staid all the night, and the next morning he enquired out one Mrs. Turner, a quaker, who formerly lived at Embercomb, by Minehead, in Somersetshire; from her he got a bill, and a recommendation to some quakers at Derby, about five miles further, where she told him he would find Mr. Whitfield. On hearing this, he set out for Derby; but, before he reached there, was overtaken by hundreds of people going to hear Mr. Whitfield preach. Friend, says he to one of them, where are you going so fast? Hast thou not heard, friend, says the other, the second Christ is come? He then joined them, and they all proceeded to Derby, where he found Mr. Whitfield preaching in an orchard, but could not get near enough to hear his discourse, by reason of the great concourse of people; however, he seemed to be affected with it, and strictly imitated the quakers in all their sighs, groans, lifting up of the eyes, &c. Leaving them, he went to the sign of the ship, and enquiring where Mr. Whitfield lodged that night, was told at the justice's, who was a miller; he then asked if he could have a bed there that night, and being told that he might, he passed the evening very cheerfully.

In the morning he asked for pen, ink, and paper, soon drew up a moving petition in the name of John Moore, the son of a clergyman, who had been taken on board the Tiger, Captain Matthews, and carried into the Havannah, from whence he had got his redemption by means of the governor of Annapolis; that he was in the most deplorable circumstances, having nothing to help himself with, and hoped he would commiserate his condition. Having finished his petition, away he went to the miller's house, where Mr. Whitfield lodged, and found a hundred people waiting at the door to speak to that gentleman. Looking narrowly around, he espied a young lad, whom he found belonged to Mr. Whitfield, and going up to him very civilly, he begged he would do an unfortunate man the kindness to present that paper (giving him his petition) to Mr. Whitfield: and as soon as they perceived him, the quakers pressed round him, one crying, Pray thee, friend, come and pray by my dear wife; and another, Pray thee, friend, come and see my dear brother. Mr. Whitfield made his way through them all, as well as he could, towards Mr. Carew, whom the young lad pointed out to him. When he came up to him, he kindly said that he was heartily sorry for his misfortunes, but that we were all liable to them, that they happened by the will of God, and therefore it was our duty to submit to them with patience and resignation; then, pulling out his pocket-book, he gave him three or four pounds of that county paper-money. Mr. Carew returned him thanks with all the marks of the most lively gratitude, and Mr. Whitfield wishing him well to England, went away singing psalms with those that were about him; and we make no doubt but Mr. Carew joined with them in the melody of the heart for the good success he had had with Mr. Whitfield.

From hence Bampfylde was only seven miles to the city of Philadelphia, which is one of the finest in all America, and one of the best laid out cities in the world. It is the capital of Pennsylvania, and, were it full of houses and inhabitants, according to the proprietor's plan, it would be a capital fit for a great empire; yet it is a large city, considering its late foundation, most commodiously situated between two navigable rivers, the Delaware and Schuylkill. He designed the town in form of an oblong square, extending two miles in length from one river to the other. The long streets, eight in number, and two miles in length, he cut in right angles by others of one mile in length, and sixteen in number, all straight and spacious. He left proper spaces for markets, parades, quays, meeting-houses, schools, hospitals, and other public buildings. There are a great number of houses, and it increases every day in buildings, which are all carried on regularly, according to the first plan. The city has two fronts on the water, one on the east side facing to Schuylkill, and the other on the west, facing the Delaware, which is near two miles broad, and navigable three hundred miles, at least for small vessels. The eastern part is the most populous, on account of the Schuylkill, which is navigable eight hundred miles above the falls. We have observed, that each front of the street was to be two miles from river to river, as it was at first laid out; but one cannot suppose that it is finished in that manner. The streets that run against the Schuylkill are three quarters of a mile in length; the houses are stately, the wharfs and warehouses numerous and convenient. This city flourished so much at first, that there were near a hundred houses, great and small in it, in less than a year's time; and it has made answerable progress since that period; the number of houses, at this time, being about two thousand, and, generally speaking, better edifices than in the cities of England, a few excepted, and those only in a few streets. All the houses have large orchards and gardens belonging to them; the land on which the city stands is high and firm, and the convenience of covered docks and springs have very much contributed to the commerce of this place, where many rich merchants now reside, some of whom are so wealthy that they keep their coaches. Ships may ride in six or seven fathoms water, with a very good anchorage; the land about it is a dry wholesome level. All owners of one thousand acres and upwards have their houses in the two fronts, facing the rivers, and in the High-street, running from the middle of one front to the middle of the other. Every owner of one thousand acres has about an acre in front, and the smaller purchasers about half an acre in the back streets, by which means the least has room enough for a house-garden and small orchard. High-street is a hundred feet broad, so is Broad-street, which is in the middle of the city, running from north to south. In the centre is a square of ten acres, for the state-house, market-house, and school-house, as before hinted. The names of the streets here denote the several sorts of timber that are common in Pennsylvania, as Mulberry-street, Sassafras-street, Chesnut-street, Walnut-street, Beech-street, Ash-street, Vine-street, Cedar-street. There are also King-street, Broad-street, High-street. Their court-house is built of brick, and under it is a prison: several houses on the quay are worth four or five thousand pounds; and thirteen ships have been on the stocks at a time: some hundreds have been built there. The cellars and warehouses, on the quay, are made over the river three stories high. Here are two fairs in a year, and two markets in a week. It sends two members to the assembly.

The inhabitants were at first mostly quakers, and so they continue. It was some time before there was a church built after the manner of England; but as soon as one was built, it was called Christchurch. It had, in a few years, a very numerous congregation, and King William ordered an allowance of fifty-three pounds a-year to the minister; which, with voluntary contributions, made a very handsome provision for him. There are about twelve hundred of the inhabitants that are of this congregation, who have for some years had the benefit of the organ; and though it looked and sounded strange to the quakers at first, yet they are now so far reconciled to it, as to bear with their neighbours having it without grumbling. There are, besides this, several meeting-houses; viz., for the quakers, who are properly the church as by law established, being the originals; the presbyterians, the baptists, and a Spanish church.

According to the plan, there is in each quarter of the city a square of eight acres, intended for the same uses as were Moorfields in London—walks and exercises for the citizens. The great dock is formed by an inlet of the river Delaware, at the south corner of the front of the wharfs, and has a bridge over it at the entrance: several creeks run into the city out of the two rivers; and there is no city in Holland that is so naturally accommodated with fine and commodious canals, as this might very easily be. The quay is beautiful, about two hundred feet square, to which a ship of five hundred tons may lay her broadside; and, as these surprising advantages have already rendered it one of the best trading towns in the British empire out of Europe, so in all probability it will continue to increase in commerce, riches, and buildings, till for number and magnificence it will have no equal in America; where the French have not, nor are likely to have, any thing like it. Here are almost all sorts of trades and mechanics, as well as merchants and planters. Here the assemblies and courts of judicature are held, and the business of the province is chiefly managed, as in all capitals. Here are printing-houses, and several newspapers published. In a word, here are all things necessary for an Englishman's profit and pleasure.

Mr. Carew, walking through the High-street, had a mind to refresh himself with a nip of punch; the first public house he chanced to come to was kept by an Irishman, and asking him if he sold punch, Yes, my dear honey, replied the man. Arrah, says Mr. Carew, are you my countryman, dear joy? quite in the Irish brogue. Yes, replied the man: What, do you belong to one of our vessels?—No, but I belong to Captain Dubois, of Dublin, who was taken off the Capes, and carried into the Havannah.—Arrah, dear joy, I know Captain Dubois very well, replied the Irishman, come in. Accordingly in went Mr. Carew: the Irishman was so well pleased with his countryman, (for, giving a very particular account of many places in Ireland, and counterfeiting the brogue extremely well, he did not suspect him to be any other,) that he entertained him kindly, and they passed the day merrily together.

The next morning his host takes him out to see the city: Mr. Carew did not content himself with idly gazing, as most of our modern travellers do; but diligently inquired the names of the principal merchants and places, and informed himself of all those circumstances, which could be of any service to him. At length, seeing a very fine house, he inquired whose it was; and being told Proprietor Penn's, who was just come from England with his brother-in-law, Captain Frame, he takes leave of his host, telling him he had a little business to transact, and would be at home presently, for he should be able to find his way back without his staying for him.—Having thus got rid of the Irishman, he claps his right hand into his coat, as if he had lost the use of it; and then, going up to the proprietor's, knocks at the door, which was opened to him by a negro, with a silver collar round his neck: he inquired if the proprietor lived there, and if he was at home: being told he was, Pray tell him, says he, that a poor man desires the favour of speaking with him. The negro then bid him come into the court: soon after, out came the proprietor, very plainly dressed, and his brother, Captain Frame, in his regimentals. The proprietor came up to him, inquiring who he was, and what he wanted with him: he replied he was a poor unfortunate man, who craved his honour's charitable assistance: that his name was John Dawkins, of the city of Exeter; and that he belonged to Captain Davis's ship of that place, who was taken near the Capes. Captain Frame, seeing him a lusty tall fellow, presently cries out, revenge! revenge! my brave boy! you shall go along with me, and fight the dogs! Mr. Carew replied with a sigh, that he should be glad to do that, but that, it was his misfortune, by the severities and hardships in prison, to have lost the use of his right arm by the dead palsy. This moved their compassion so much, that each of them gave him a guinea; the proprietor telling him he would take care to send him home with Captain Read, who would sail, very soon; then asking him if he had been at the governor's, and he replying in the negative, the proprietor told him he should go there, for he was a very good-natured man, and would assist him; then calling to the black, he bid him show the poor man to the governor's. As they were going along, he informed himself of the black what countryman the governor was; and being told a Welshman, and his name Thomas, he took care to make his advantage of it. When he came to the governor's and inquired for him, he was told he was walking in the garden; while he was waiting for his coming out, in came the proprietor and his brother; and, going into the garden, they represented his case to the governor, who, coming in, inquired where he was born, &c.; he told him, as he had before done the proprietor, and added, that he had married Betty Larkey, parson Griffy's maid, of Wales, and that the parson had a son at Bishop's Nympton, in Devon: the governor replied he knew the parson very well, and likewise Betty Larkey; and after he had asked him some questions about them, which Mr. Carew answered very readily, he gave him two guineas.