In this manner did he apply to the most of the principal merchants of Philadelphia, always suiting some circumstances of his story in particular to the person he applied to; which he did, by diligently inquiring what places they came from in England, who were their friends and acquaintance, and the like, which he knew how to suit most to his purpose.

Captain Read being now ready to sail, and Mr. Carew having a curiosity of seeing more of the country, he thought proper to leave Philadelphia without taking leave of any of his good friends there. From this place he went into Buckingham county, where he inquired for one George Boon, a justice of the peace in that county, who formerly lived at Bradnich, in Devon, his father being a weaver there. Here he went by his own name, telling him, he had been taken prisoner, and carried into the Havannah, where he had lain many months. The justice having known his father very well, entertained him generously, showed him the country, and gave him three guineas at his departure, to help to pay his passage.

From thence he went to Burlington, the first town in West New-Jersey, which contains about two hundred and fifty families, and has an answerable number of acres laid out for plantations. The houses are well built, and almost all of brick. The market affords plenty of all sorts of provisions, which are as good here as any where in America.

From thence to Perth Amboy, so called in honour of the Duke of Perth. It is at the mouth of the Rantan, which runs into Sandyhook bay, and is able to contain five hundred ships. The plan of this city was laid out very regularly and spaciously. The plot of ground was divided into one hundred and fifty shares, for purchasers to build upon. Four acres are preserved for a market-place, and three for public wharfage—very useful things, if there had been inhabitants, trade, and shipping. The town being thus skilfully and commodiously laid out, some Scots began building, especially a house for the governor, which was then as little wanted as a wharf or a market. The whole plan of the city consists of one thousand and seventy-nine acres, and there are two good roads from it to Piscataqua and Woodbridge. Ships in one tide can come up to the port, and be at the merchants' doors, though of three hundred tons burden; but the Perth city has not above two or three hundred men, women, and children.

From thence over a ferry, into a town called Trent-town, in Staten-island; and from thence over Brunswick ferry to East Jersey, where he found out a Mr. Matthews, a miller, who formerly lived at Whitechurch, near Lime, in Dorset; and, making use of his old story of having been taken, he was received by Mr. Matthews with great hospitality; he kept him three days in his house, and would have entertained him still longer. At his departure he gave him a guinea, with several letters of recommendation, and remitted letters by him to his friends in England, sending his servant with him as far as Elizabeth town, which is three miles within a creek opposite to the west end of Staten-island. Here the first English settlement was made, and if any place in the Jerseys may be said to have thriven, it is this; for, notwithstanding the endeavours of the proprietors to make a capital of Perth, by calling it a city, Elizabeth town has near six times the number of inhabitants, containing above two hundred and fifty families, and forty thousand acres of land laid out. Here the proprietors have a plantation, which goes by the name of their farm. The government of the province is here managed, courts are kept, assemblies held, and the greatest part of the trade of the colony carried on. Here he met with one Mr. Nicholas, a Cornish man, who gave him a ten-shilling bill, and recommended him to one Mr. Anderson, in Long-island, sometimes called Nassau-island, stretching from Fairfield county, in a fine spot of ground, one hundred and fifty miles in length, and twenty in breadth. Here he changed his religion, and turned Presbyterian, most of the inhabitants being of that denomination: he travelled quite through the island, and then crossed over a ferry into Block-island, from whence there are great quantities of timber transported to the town of Boston.

Soon after, crossing another ferry, he came into New York, which is a very fine city. There are now about one thousand one hundred houses, and near seven thousand inhabitants in it. The houses are well built, the meanest of them is said to be worth one hundred pounds, which cannot be said of any city in England. The great church here was built in the year 1695, and is a very handsome edifice. Here are also a Dutch church, a French church, and a Lutheran church. The inhabitants of the Dutch extraction make a very considerable part of the town; but, most of them speaking English, one may suppose they went pretty much to the great church, especially all those that are and hope to be in offices. Here he was surprised at the sight of a great number of gibbets, with blacks hanging upon them; but, upon inquiring, he found the negroes had not long before entered into a conspiracy for burning the whole city; however, the plot being timely discovered, great numbers were executed and hung up to terrify others. His first care here was to inquire the names, circumstances, families, and countries, of the principal inhabitants of the city; amongst the rest he inquired out Captain Lush, who was formerly of Carmouth, by Lime, in Dorsetshire, to whom he had recommendatory letters from Mr. Matthews, of East Jersey. He was received very hospitably by Captain Lush, who likewise gave him two shirts, and informed him, there was no ship ready to sail for England there, but that he would find one at New London. Having found there was one Mr. Lucas, formerly of Taunton, in Somersetshire, in New York, and judging he was brother to Mr. Lucas, of Brampton, in Devon, whom he knew very well, he went boldly to his house, which was in the fish-shambles, and knocking at the door, it was opened to him by a negro; he enquired if Mr. Lucas was at home; and, before the negro could give him an answer, out came Mr. Lucas with a little boy, and demanded what he wanted: he replied he was an Englishman, born in Devonshire, who had the misfortune to be cast away in a ship behind Long-island, and hearing his name was Lucas, he had made bold to apply to him for his assistance, as he was very well acquainted with his brother, Mr. Lucas, of Brampton. Mr. Lucas asked him, if he could tell him whom his brother married; he replied, Mrs. Mary Tristam. Do you know Huntsham? Yes, replied he, and Mr. Beer, who first courted Mrs. Tristam. And how many children has my brother? To this likewise Mr. Carew answered very exactly; and Mr. Lucas, being convinced by this of his being no imposter, bid him come in, telling him, he expected his youngest brother there in three weeks time. He was entertained here very generously, and at his departure Mr. Lucas gave him two guineas.

From thence he went through Seabrake and Seaford to New London, which is situated on a river called the Thames. The first branch of which river goes by the name of Glass river, the next branch by that of Russel's Delight, and the third by that of Indian river. There is a small river which falls into the sea at Manchester. The trade of ship building flourishes here. He now inquired if there were none of the name of Davy in that city; and being asked why, he replied, they were near heirs to a fine estate near Crediton in Devon, formerly belonging to Sir John Davy. He was then shown to two ancient sisters of Sir John Davy, whose sons were timbermen: they asked a great many questions about the family, and he told them that Sir John Davy was dead, and his eldest son also, who had left two sons; that the youngest brother, Humphrey Davy, was then living at Creedy-house, and the little boys somewhere about Exeter. Then they gave him two letters to give to Mr. Humphrey Davy; after which, each gave him a guinea, with recommendations to one Justice Miller and Captain Rogers, who was bound for England. Justice Miller received him very kindly, with whom he agreed to take a run to England for ten gallons of rum, ten pounds of sugar, ten pounds of tobacco, and ten pipes.

Captain Rogers having taken in his lading, which consisted of rice, tobacco, and pipe staves, set sail with a fair wind from New London, and run to Lundy in a month and three days. Nothing happened material on their voyage, and the sailors passed this time very joyfully, having so favourable a gale; but our hero, who knew that fortune, like a common jilt, often puts on the fairest smiles when she is about to discard you, thought it prudent to provide against her slippery tricks as much as lay in his power; he therefore pricked his arms and breast with a needle, and then rubbed it with bay salt and gunpowder, which made it appear like the small-pox coming out; in the night-time he groaned very dismally, till at length the captain called to him to know the reason of his groaning so in his sleep. Alas! Sir, replied he, I have been dreaming my poor wife was dead, and that she died of the small-pox. Be of good cheer, man, says the captain, dreams are but fables; and, for your comfort, I believe we shall quickly make land: however, they did not do this as soon as the captain expected; for, towards the next evening, the wind springing up a fresh gale, the captain ordered to stand out to sea again: during all the day, Mr. Carew did not stir out of his hammock, pretending to be very ill. Towards the morning, the wind was somewhat laid, and they stood in before it; but it being very hazy weather, the captain ordered a good look-out, crying, my brave boys, take care we don't run foul of some ship, for we are now in the channel. The men replied, all is well.

Now the cocks began to crow on board, and Sol took his last embrace of Thetis, to begin his daily stage; for, indeed, already had his equipage waited near an hour for him. Reader, if thou art acquainted with the inimitable history of Tom Jones, thou mayest perhaps know what is meant by this; but, lest thou shouldest not, we think it not improper to inform thee, that we mean no more than what we might have told thee in three words, that it was broad day-light. The captain called out, how goes the glass, my brave boys? Eight glasses are just run, replied the men; then look out sharp for land. Soon after, the cabin boy hallooing out, land, land! the captain ran nimbly to see if it was so, saying, I am afraid we are embayed. No, replied the mate, I will be bound for it, it is Lundy-island. The captain ran up immediately to the main-topmast head, to look out for other lands to the right and left, and found it to be indeed Lundy-island; upon which several sailors ran up the rigging, and, among the rest, Mr. Carew creeps out with nothing but a blanket upon his shoulders, and makes an attempt to run up the rigging; which the captain seeing, he hastily cries out, where is old John going? take care of the old man, he is light-headed: upon which, some of the sailors took him down, and carried him back to his hammock. They then crowded all the sail they could for Lundy. When they came near, they perceived several ships laying at anchor there, and made a signal for a pilot. Soon after comes up a pilot of Clovelly, who was then upon the island, waiting to pilot ships up to Bristol. The captain welcomed him on board, and agreed for seven guineas to be pilotted up to Bristol: then the captain asked him what news, and if any New-England men were gone up the channel? He replied, that none had passed, but that he could inform him of bad news for his men, which was, the Ruby man-of-war, Captain Goodyre, lay then in King-road, and pressed all the men he could lay hold of. Mr. Carew, hearing this, immediately comes upon deck, with his blanket upon his shoulders, and pretended to vomit over the ship's side. The pilot, observing him, asked what was the matter with the old man. I believe, replies the captain, he has got the small-pox; he dreamed the other night that his wife was dead of them, which frightened him so much, that I think the small-pox is come out upon him. The pilot then stepped up and asked him to let him look upon him, which he complying with, and showing him his arms, the pilot swore he had got the small-pox heavily upon him, and Mr. Carew kept on groaning very mournfully. They then sailed by Appledore, Biddeford, and Barnstaple, (where Mr. Carew, notwithstanding his having the small-pox so heavily, wished himself on shore, drinking some of their fat ale,) so to the Holmes, and into King-road early in the morning. He then thought it advisable to take a pretty large quantity of warm water into his belly, and soon after, to their concern, they saw the Ruby man-of-war lying in the road, with jack, ensign, and pendant hoisted.

Now were all the sailors, who had been so jovial before, struck with a dreadful panic; but our hero, secure of the favour and protection of the goddess prudence, was quite easy at heart.—Soon they perceived the man of war's boat making towards them, upon which Mr. Carew grew sicker and sicker: the captain ordered the ropes to be flung out for a man-of-war's boat, and the stanchions and red ropes to be got ready for the lieutenant, as though they had been to receive some good visitor on board; such are the polished arts of the world; for we think we may venture to say, that both the captain and the crew, at the time they were making these preparations to receive the lieutenant, had rather have seen him gone to the bottom of the sea, than come on board their vessel. At length the man-of-war's boat came along side of the ship, when Mr. Carew went down into the steerage with his belly full of hot water, and the lieutenant came on board. Sir, you are welcome on board, says the captain; or, rather, that little part of the captain called the tongue; for the heart, mind, and every other particle, of the captain wished him at the d—-l at the same time. The lieutenant inquired from whence they came and what passage. The captain replied, from Boston, in a month and four days; and then asked him to walk aft, and take a drop of rum; but, before he did so, the lieutenant asked how many hands there were on board. The captain answered, he had only fifteen, for men were very scarce. Of what burden is your ship?—Two hundred and fifty tons. I must have your hands, sir, said the lieutenant: come in, barge crew, and do your duty. No sooner were the words spoken, than the crew leaped upon the deck, and the lieutenant ordered all the ship's company aft, saying he wanted to talk with them. He then accosted them with an oratorial harangue: "Gentlemen sailors," said he, "I make no doubt but you are willing to enter voluntarily, and not as pressed men; if you go like brave men, freely, when you come round to Plymouth and Portsmouth, and get on board your respective ships, you will have your bounty money, and liberty to go on shore and kiss your landladies." Though this oration was pronounced with as much self-applause as Cicero felt when, by the force of his eloquence, he made Caesar the master of the world to tremble; or as the vehement Demosthenes, when used to thunder against king Philip; yet we are not quite certain whether it was the power of eloquence alone persuaded the men to enter voluntarily, or whether being seated between the two rocks of Scylla and Charybdis, it was indifferent to them which they dashed upon; however this was, all but one of them entered (though with sad hearts) without being pressed, which we make no doubt the lieutenant attributed to the eloquence of his oration.

The lieutenant observing a stout fellow, in a frock and trowsers, who did not come aft with the other men, asked the captain who he was. The captain replied, he was an Indian, and a brave sailor, so called him by his name. Wat ye want wit mee, replies the Indian, mee wont come, dammee. Upon which the lieutenant sent some of the barge crew to bring him forward which the brave Indian perceiving, he caught hold of a handspike, and put himself in a posture of defence, crying out to the barge crew who came up towards him, dammee, ye meddle wit mee, mee dash your brains out. The crew, finding him resolute, did not think proper to attack him: upon which the lieutenant asked him, if he would serve king George. Dam king George, mee know no king George: mee be an Indian, mee have a king in my own country, whom mee love and fightee for, because he be de very good king: at which the lieutenant and captain fell a laughing, and left him.

Are these all your men? says the lieutenant. Yes, replied the captain, except an old man, who dreamed the other night that his wife died of the small-pox, and was so much frightened, that the small-pox is come out upon him. The captain then ordered the bills to be made for what was due to the men, and asked the lieutenant in the mean while to walk down and taste his rum. Accordingly down comes the lieutenant, humming a tune. Mr. Carew, hearing this, prepared himself, and, taking an opportunity of putting his finger down his throat, discharges his stomach just under the lieutenant's feet, crying out in a most lamentable tone at the same time, O, my head! O my back! What! cried the lieutenant very hastily, is this the fellow who has the small-pox? No, no, replied Carew; I have had the small-pox many years ago, and have been with Sir Charles Wager and Sir George Walton up the Baltic; and now, for God's sake, take me on board your ship, noble captain, for I want only to be blooded. The lieutenant whipped out his snuff box, and clapped it to his nose, swearing, he would not take him on board for five hundred pounds, for he was enough to infect a whole ship's crew; that the devil should take him before he would—hurrying at the same time as fast as he could into the great cabin. When he came there, Mr. Carew heard him complaining how unfortunate it was that he should come on board, as he had never had the small-pox himself. When the rest of the men had had their bills made out, the captain, willing to get rid of Mr. Carew, said to him, come, old John, I will have your bill made to; which was accordingly done, and it amounted to seven pounds ten shillings, for which the captain gave him a draught on merchant Tidiate of Bristol. The captain then ordered the boat to put him on shore; but he besought the captain to let him die on board. No, no, says the captain; by all means take him on shore. Ay, ay, says the lieutenant, take him on shore. Then the captain called to some of the sailors, to help the poor old man over the side of the ship, and out came Mr. Carew, with the blanket wrapped about his shoulders, and so well did he counterfeit, that he seemed a most deplorable object of compassion. The boat having got a little distance from the ship, was called back again, and the lieutenant tossed him half-a-guinea, charging him not to go into the city of Bristol, as he was enough to infect the whole city.

Thus our hero, after seeing many cities and men, undergoing great hardships, and encountering many dangers and difficulties, once more set foot on his beloved country. Notwithstanding the joy he felt at being safe on shore, he did not lay aside his small-pox, but travelled on towards Bristol as one very bad in that distemper. Coming to Justice Cann's, near Derham Downs, he met with the gardener, whom he asked if the justice lived there, and was at home? Being told he was, he made a most lamentable moan, and said, he was just come from New England, and had the small-pox on him. The gardener went into the house, and, soon returning, told him the justice was not at home; but gave him half-a-crown. He still kept crying, I am a dying man, and I beseech you let me lie and die in some hay-tallet, or any place of shelter. The gardener, seeing him so ill, went in again, and brought out a cordial dram, and a mug of warm ale, which Mr. Carew made shift to swallow. The gardener then left him, being so much affrighted at his appearance and lamentable moans, that he let both glass and mug fall to the ground, before he reached the house. Mr. Carew then made a shift, notwithstanding his dying condition, to reach the city of Bristol; and being now freed from his apprehensions of being pressed, at the first barber's he came to he got rid of his beard, and bid adieu to the small-pox; he then made the best of his way to the mendicants' hall, on Mile-hill. Just as he came there, the landlady and an old croney, a tinker's wife, were standing at the door; as soon as the landlady espied him, she clapped her hands, and swore it was either Mr. Carew or his ghost. As soon as they were convinced he was flesh and blood, great were the kisses, hugs, and embraces, of the three. Our hero's first inquiry was, when they had seen his dear Polly, meaning his wife: the landlady told him she had not seen her lately, but had heard that she and his daughter were well; but that his wife never expected to see him more.

Mr. Carew soon called for a room above stairs, ordered an elegant dinner to be provided, and passed the afternoon very merrily. The next morning he waited on the merchant with his bill, and received the money for it; then weighed anchor, and steered for Bridgewater, where he arrived at night. He immediately repaired to a mumper's house, kept by a one-eyed woman, named Laskey, from whence he went to the Swan, where several gentlemen were passing the evening together, viz. Mr. More, Dr. Deptford, Counsellor Bedford, and others, all of whom were particularly acquainted with him; however, he pretended to be a West Indian who had been cast away in a ship, coming from Antigua, which foundered behind Cape Clear; that he was taken up by an Irishman, and afterwards put on board a Bristol ship. Having by this story raised a handsome contribution from the gentlemen, he discovered himself, knowing them to be his good friends; but the gentlemen could scarcely credit him, till he gave them sufficient proofs of his being the real Bampfylde Moore Carew.

The next morning he went to Sir John Tynte, and made the same complaint he had done the night before at the Swan in Bridgewater: the servant telling him Sir John would come forth soon, he waited till he did so, and then discovered himself; Sir John would not believe him, but at last made him a present. He afterwards visited Justice Grose, of Bromfylde, who presently knew him, and made him very welcome; from whence, setting out for Exeter, he visited on the road Mr. John Bampfylde, of Hesticomb, the Rev. Mr. Boswell, and Dr. Hildyard, of Taunton, the Rev. Mr. Manifee, Squire Bluet, of Melcombe Regis, the Rev. Mr. Newt, of Tiverton, Squire Blundel, and Major Worth, in the neighbourhood of that place, who, being all his particular friends, were very glad to see him return, and treated him very handsomely. Major Worth took a hunting with him: but he soon found an opportunity of slipping away, and directed his steps to his own parish of Bickley. Here he happened to meet Lady Carew; but so great was his respect for her, that he, who used to attempt every thing, had not courage to accost this lady, and therefore turned off to a place called Codbury, the seat of Mr. Fursdon. As soon as he came there, he was known to Mr. Fursdon's sister, who told him he should not stir thence till her brother came home; soon after Mr. Fursdon returned, and brought with him one Mr. Land, of Silverton: he was very much surprised to see him, and treated him very generously, making him a very handsome present, as did also Mr. Land. He abode there that night, went a hunting with Mr. Fursdon the next day, and likewise to see Mr. Bampfylde Rode, at Stoke, who would not believe Mr. Carew had been in America; he treated him handsomely, and made him a present at his departure. He came next into Exeter, the place he had sailed from to Maryland, and going into St. Peter's church-yard, saw Sir Henry Northcote, Dr. Andrews, and two other gentlemen, who were walking there; he accosted them with a God bless you, Sir Harry, Dr. Andrews, and the rest of the company. Sir Harry, staring very wistfully at him, cried, are you flesh and blood? why you can never have been in America? Dr. Andrews then asked if it was Carew; and the report being spread that he was in Exeter, it drew a number of spectators to see him; and amongst the rest merchant Davy himself, who asked him, in a very great hurry, if the ship was cast away. No, no, said he, I have been in America, have had the honour of seeing your factor, Mr. Mean, and saw Griffiths sold for a thousand weight of tobacco: did I not tell you that I would be at home before Captain Froade? He then gave an account of several particulars, which convinced the gentlemen he had really been in America. Mr. Davy asked him, if he had been sold before he ran away; and he replying he had not, the merchant told him jeeringly, that he was his servant still, that he should charge him five pounds for his passage, and five pounds for costs and charges, besides Captain Froade's bill. He next inquired where he had left Captain Froade. Mr. Carew told him he had left him in Miles's river. The gentlemen then gave him money, as did likewise merchant Davy.

Two months after this came home Captain Froade, laden with tobacco. As soon as he came to an anchor, several gentlemen of Exeter went on board, and inquired what passage, and where he left Mr. Carew? Damn him, replied the captain, you will never see him again: he ran away, was taken, put into New Town gaol, brought back again, and whipped, had a pot-hook put upon him, ran away with it on his neck, and has never been heard of since; so that, without doubt, he must either be killed by some wild beast, or drowned in some river. At this the gentlemen fell a laughing, telling the captain he had been at home two months before him. Captain Froade swore it could never be; however, they confirmed it to him that it was so.

Soon after this Mr. Carew went and paid his respects to Sir William Courtenay, returning him many thanks for what he had furnished him with when he sailed for Maryland; adding, he had been as good as his word, in coming home before Captain Froade. Sir William told him he thought he had; and then called to his butler to give him something to drink. In a little time Sir William came to him again, with his brother, Mr. Henry Courtenay, who conducted him to a noble parlour, where was a great company of fine ladies sitting, whom our hero accosted with all that respect which is ever due to beauty and merit. Sir William then asked him jocosely if he could find out which was his dove. He replied, he knew some of the ladies there; and that, unless his judgment deceived him, such a lady, (singling out one of them) was the happy person. You are right, replied Sir William; this is indeed my dove, and turtle-dove. Sir William then put a piece of money in his hat, as did Mr. Courtenay, and bid him go round to the ladies, which he did, addressing them in a very handsome manner; and, we need not add, gathered a plentiful harvest, as the fair sex are, in general, so much inclined to humanity and good-nature. Sir William asked him if he would not drink to the ladies' health? and filled him up a bumper of excellent wine; he then took his leave of this truly noble and hospitable gentleman.—Here, reader, if my pen were equal to the task, I would describe to you one whom, in this degenerate age, thou mayest gaze at as a prodigy; one who, like the phoenix rising from the ashes of his father, inherits all the virtues of his glorious ancestors; I would describe to you magnificence without extravagance, pomp without ostentation, plenty without luxury or riot, and greatness undiminished by little pride; I would set before you something more than a king, surrounded and imprisoned by worthless and impervious favourites, fawning sycophants, and tasteless grandeur. Such are the scenes within thy walls, such thy master, happy Powderham!

From hence our hero went to Squire Bell's, of Mamheap; in the way he met with Mr. Jackson, his steward, who was lame with the gout; he presently knew Mr. Carew, gave him half-a-crown, and told him, he would hop back on his crutches to give him something to drink. While they were drinking a glass, the steward advised him to make application to the squire. Presently after, he came out, and Mr. Carew soon began his attack upon him. Pray, who are you? said the justice. I am a poor unfortunate West Indian, replied he, who has been shipwrecked on the coast of Ireland, and was taken up by a Bristol ship. Ay, ay, you are one of Carew's gang, I suppose, said the justice, but he is transported. Bless your honour, returned he, I am no impostor; I have heard that he was a very great one, and I think deserved more than transportation. Well, well, there's a shilling for you, replied the justice, and go about your business.

From hence he steered towards Mr. Oxenham's, at New-house: when he came near the house, he pulled off his shirt, and gave it to an old man he met, as though he had been amazed: then marched up to the house, and just at the stable met Mrs. Oxenham and another lady, whom he immediately accosted with a doleful complaint of being a poor shipwrecked mariner. Mrs. Oxenham told him, she should have taken him for Bampfylde Moore Carew, but she knew him to be transported. He was not disconcerted at this, but readily told her, with great composure, that his name was Thomas Jones, belonging to Bridport, in Dorsetshire. The ladies gave each a shilling, and then bid him to go into the house, where he had victuals set before him; before he went away the lady sent him a Holland shirt. Being thus equipped, he inquired out the churchwardens of the parish, and by the same story got a crown of them. From hence he went to Lord Clifford's, at Uggbroke, in the parish of Chudleigh: here he sent in a petition to my Lord as an unfortunate Roman Catholic, and received a guinea; he lay that night at Sandy-gate, and behaved as a Roman Catholic, under the name of William Passmore.

The next day, at Moll Upton's, in Newton Bushel, he met with one of the sisters of that order of mendicants commonly called cousin Betties; and he, having an inclination to pay a visit to Sir Thomas Carew, at Hackum, soon made an agreement with the cousin Betty to exchange habits for that day. The barber was then called in to make his beard as smooth as his art and razor could make it, and his hair was dressed up with ribbons; thus metamorphosed, our hero set out, having a little dog under his arm. Being come to Sir Thomas Carew's, he rushed into the house without ceremony, demanding his rent in an imperious tone. None of the men-servants being in the way, the women first ran one way and then another; but he, taking notice of this confusion, continued to act the mad woman, beating his head against the wall, kissing the dog, and demanding his rent; at last, one of the women-servants came out, crying, lady, you are welcome to the rent, and gave him a crown; but he was not to be removed so easily, for now he fell a raving again, and demanded some merry-go-down; they then brought him some ale, which having drunk, he took his leave, thanking them with a very low courtesy. From hence he returned in his progress to parson Sandford's, of Stoke, in Tinney, where, having entered the house with as little ceremony as before, he not only demanded his rent, as usual, but a gown for some of his cousins: neither would he take his leave till he had got a shilling for rent, a good gown, and some pinners. He next called upon parson Richards, at Coombe, in Tinney, where he got a shilling and a shift. Having thus succeeded in his new adventure, he returned to his quarters at mother Upton's, in Newton-Bushel, where he divided the profits of the day with his good cousin Betty, and also passed the night very merrily with her.

The next day he restored his borrowed accoutrements to cousin Betty, and, calling for a pen and ink, wrote a petition in the character of a poor unfortunate soap-boiler, whose house was set on fire by the carelessness of an apprentice, in the parish of Monksilver, not forgetting to sign it with the names of several neighbouring gentlemen. With this fictitious petition he went to Justice Taylor's, at Dembury, where he was handsomely relieved: thence he went to Justice Neil's, and finding upon inquiry the justice himself was at home, he did not venture to deliver his petition, but begged as an unfortunate man, and was relieved with a cup of cider, and some bread and cheese. At Darlington he assumed the character of a rat-catcher, and sold a receipt to a gentleman's steward for a crown: and under this character he travelled forward to Plymouth. Here, learning that there was to be a great cock-match, he laid aside his rat-catcher's habit, and put on that of a gentleman, and not the habit only, as too many do, but the manners and behaviour likewise. At the cock-match, he betted several wagers with Sir Coventry Carew, and his own brother Mr. Henry Carew, the minister of Saltash, which he had the good fortune to win, and left the cock-pit undiscovered by any one. Thus great is the power of dress, which transforms and metamorphoses the beggar into a gentleman, and the cinder wench into a fine lady; therefore let not the little great (I mean those who have nothing to recommend them but their equipage) pride themselves as though they had something superior in them to the poor wretch they spurn with so much contempt; for, let me tell them, if we are apt to pay them respect, they are solely indebted for it to the mercer and tailor; strip them of their gaudy plumes, and we shall not be able to distinguish them from the lowest order of mumpers. This puts us in mind of a remarkable adventure of our hero's life, which he always told with a great deal of pleasure.

One day, as he was begging in the town of Maiden Bradley, from door to door, as a poor shipwrecked seaman, he saw on the other side of the street a mendicant brother-sailor, in a habit as forlorn as his own, begging for God's sake, just like himself. Seeing Mr. Carew, he crossed the way, came up to him, and in the cant language, asked where he lay last night, what road he was going, and several other questions; then, whether he would brush into a boozing-ken and be his thrums; to this he consented, and away they went; where, in the course of their conversation, they asked each other various questions concerning the country, the charitable and uncharitable families, the moderate and severe justices, the good and queer corporations. This new acquaintance of Mr. Carew's asked him if he had been at Sir Edward Seymour's? He answered, yes, and had received his alms: the stranger, therefore, not having been there, left him at the alehouse, and went thither himself, where, having received the same alms that his new companion had, he returned to him again.

The next day they begged through the town, one on one side of the street, and the other on the other, each on his own separate story and account: they then proceeded to the houses of several gentlemen in the neighbourhood, both in one story, which was that of the stranger. Among many others, they came to Lord Weymouth's, where it was agreed that Mr. Carew should be spokesman: upon their coming up to the house, the servants bid them begone, unless they could give a good account of themselves and the countries in which they pretended to have been, for, should Lord Weymouth come and detect them in any falsehood, he would horse-whip them without mercy, which was the treatment to all those whom he found to be counterfeits met with from him, and he had detected great numbers of them, having been abroad himself. Our travellers were not the least daunted, Mr. Carew being conscious in himself that he could give a satisfactory account of Newfoundland, and the other affirming that he had been at Rome, France, Spain, Portugal, Italy, &c. and could give as good a description of those countries as his lordship himself. Therefore up they went to the kitchen door, and Mr. Carew broke ice, telling the deplorable story of their misfortune in his usual lamentable tone. The housekeeper at first turned a deaf ear to their supplication and entreaty; but Mr. Carew, at the instigation of his companion, redoubled his importunity, kneeling on one knee, and making use of all the methods of exciting charity, of which he was capable; so that at last the housekeeper gave them the greatest part of a cold shoulder of mutton, half a fine wheaten loaf, and a shilling, but did it with great haste and fear, lest his lordship should see her, and be angry. Of the butler they got a copper of good ale, and then, both expressing their thankfulness, departed.—Having reached some distance from the house there arose a dispute who should carry the victuals, both being loath to incumber themselves with it, as having neither wife nor child near to give it to. Mr. Carew was for throwing it into the hedge, but the other urged that it was both a sin and a shame to waste good victuals in that manner, so they both agreed to go to the Green Man, about a mile from my lord's, and there exchange it for liquor. At this alehouse they tarried for some time, and snacked the argot; then, after a parting glass, each went his way.

The reader cannot but be surprised when we assure him that this mendicant companion of his was no less a person than my Lord Weymouth himself, who, being desirous of sounding the tempers and dispositions of the gentlemen and other inhabitants of the neighbourhood, put himself into a habit so vastly beneath his birth and fortune, in order to obtain that discovery. Nor was this the first time that this great nobleman had metamorphosed himself into the despicable shape and character of a beggar, as several of that neighbourhood can testify; but, when he went abroad into the world in this disguise, he took especial care to conceal it even from his own family, one servant only, in whose secrecy he greatly confided, being entrusted therewith; and this was his valet-de-chambre, who used to dress, shave, and perform other such offices about his lordship's person.

Mr. Carew and his noble companion having thus parted from each other, he took his way into the woodlands towards Frome; and the disguised lord, by a private way through the park and gardens, returned to his own house, and there, divesting himself of his rags, put on his embroidered apparel, and re-assumed the dignity and state to which both his birth and fortune entitled him. I am informed, said his lordship, that two sailors have been at my house; and, inquiring which way they went, he ordered two men and horses to go after them, with a strict charge to bring them back to his house, for he had heard they were impostors; and, if he found them such, he would treat them accordingly. The servants obeyed his commands without the least suspicion of the intricacy of this affair, and soon came up with Mr. Carew, whom they forcibly brought up to my lord. His lordship accosted him in a very rough stern manner, asking where the other fellow was, and told him he should be made to find him. Mr. Carew in the mean time stood thunder-struck, expecting nothing less than a commitment to prison, but, upon examination, made out his story as well as he could.

After having thus terrified and threatened him for a considerable time, his lordship went out, and, divesting himself of the habit and character of a nobleman, again put on his rags, and was, by his trusty valet-de-chambre, ushered into the room where his brother-beggar stood sweating for fear, when they compared notes together, whispering to each other what to say, in order that their accounts might agree when examined apart, as in effect they were. The steward took Mr. Carew aside into a private chamber, and there pretending that the other fellow's relation contradicted his, and proved them both to be counterfeits, he said that a prison must be the portion of both; and indeed nothing was omitted that might strike Mr. Carew with the greatest terror and confusion. By this time my lord having thrown off his rags, and put on his fine apparel, Mr. Carew was again brought into his presence to receive his final sentence; when his lordship, having sufficiently diverted himself with the fear and consternation of his brother mumper discovered himself to him.

We might have mentioned before, that, while my lord and Mr. Carew travelled together, they asked each other whence they came, and what their names were. Mr. Carew ingeniously confessed his, but my lord disguised both his name and country; so that having accidentally met with a mendicant of the greatest note in England, his lordship thought fit to treat him in the manner aforesaid, which he would not have done to every common vagrant.—However, to satisfy himself that this was the famous and true Bampfylde Moore Carew, for many impostors had usurped his name, he sent for Captain Atkins, a gentleman of his acquaintance in the neighbourhood, who went to school with Mr. Carew at Tiverton. This gentleman was very glad to see his old school-fellow, and assured his lordship that it was really Mr. Bampfylde Moore Carew, upon which his lordship very nobly entertained him at his house for the space of three days, and gave him an excellent suit of clothes and ten guineas; but, remembering the trouble they had, and the loss they were at to dispose of the shoulder of mutton and bread which the housekeeper had given them, as likewise the resolution Mr. Carew had once taken to throw it away, he called his housekeeper, and strictly charged her never to give away a morsel of victuals more, but bestow the alms in money only, rightly judging that to be more acceptable to beggars than the best of provisions, the greatest part of which they either waste, give away, or exchange for an inconsiderable quantity of drink, as my lord and Mr. Carew had done. His lordship took Mr. Carew to Warminster horserace, and there recommended him to many honourable gentlemen, who were very liberal to him. He several times after made bold to call upon his lordship in his rounds, and at every visit received a guinea, and a hearty welcome at his house. His lordship would frequently make himself merry with the story, and jocosely say, that he was more expert in the science of mumping than even Mr. Carew himself.

Not long after this, Mr. Carew came to Biddeford again, where he had been some time before, and delivered the compass to Captain Haley's wife, who immediately burst into tears upon seeing it, supposing her husband was dead: he then went to the Dolphin, where, as he was drinking, he saw some gentlemen in the Butchers' Row, and asked the landlord who they were. Being told they were the Captains Harvey, Hopkins, and Burd,—Go, said he, and give my duty, and tell them Mr. Bampfylde Moore Carew is at your house. The landlord went accordingly, and soon returned with the captains. They were glad to see our hero, who returned them thanks for the favours he had received from them in America. The captains asked him a great many questions respecting his travels through the Indians' country, &c., and told him they never thought he could have gone through that dangerous undertaking, but expected to have seen him return again. He then gave them an account of every thing to their satisfaction, telling them he had followed their directions in every point. They afterwards treated him very handsomely, and made a collection for him. The captains then going out, and reporting that he was in town, a great concourse of people assembled to see him, to the no little profit of the landlord; for our hero ordered that no one should be admitted to see him, till he had first drunk a quart of ale in the house.

Some time after this, he disguised himself like a poor miserable decrepid old man, and took to selling of matches and gathering old rags. Happening to meet a brother ragman at Wiveliscombe, they joined company, and agreed to travel to Porlock together. Just as they came to Gutter-Hall, night coming on a-pace, they proposed taking up their quarters there. The landlord told them he had no lodging to spare, but if they would go half-a-mile farther, and lie in a haunted house, they should have their lodging free cost, and good bread, cheese, and cider, with a rasher of bacon into the bargain. The ragmen very readily accepted this offer, and, accompanied by the landlord, repaired to Farmer Liddon's house. When they came there the landlord told the farmer he had brought two men who would lie in the haunted house. The farmer received them very gladly, and asked them if they were sure they had courage enough to do it, adding he would give them twenty shillings if they could lay the old woman. Never fear, farmer, replied Mr. Carew; we have not only courage to speak to, but learning enough to lay, the old woman, so that you shall never hear of her more. Things being thus agreed on, the farmer's son, a great stout fellow, willing to show his courage, in a very bold manner offered to keep them company. Having provided themselves with firing, cider, bread, cheese, and bacon, they adjourned to the haunted house, but not before Mr. Carew had taken an opportunity of going into the yard, and filling his pockets with large stones. When they came to the haunted house, they made a good fire, and he and his companion sat down, eating and drinking very merrily; but the farmer's son, beginning to have some terrors upon him, had little stomach to eat. About the middle of the night, when every thing is most silent and solemn, at that time when every whisper of the mind is apt to create fear, Mr. Carew took an opportunity of throwing a stone unseen up the stairs, which, coming rumbling down again with a frightful noise, might have at that time struck a panic into the most courageous heart. The farmer's son turned pale, and leaped from his chair in a great fright, believing that the old woman was making her entrance; but nothing appearing, the same awful silence and stillness as before took place, only fear staid behind in the farmer's breast, and Mr. Carew and his companion kept mute, as though in expectation of what would follow; but soon this solemn silence was disturbed by a loud thump at the door; again the farmer leaped from his seat, crying out, O Lord! save and deliver us! At the same time, unable to command those passages at which fear is apt to issue out, he caused a smell almost as bad as Satan himself is said to bring along with him. Mr. Carew caught him in his arms, and, holding his head close to his breast, cried, don't be afraid, Mr. Liddon, for I will make the old woman fly; at the same time, pretending to conjure her, he repeated three times very solemnly, "Hight spirito diabolico rubro oceano," whilst his companion went a little aside, and answered in a squeaking tone, like Joan Liddon, unless my will is fulfilled, I will tear them in pieces.

Soon after cock-crowing, there was another huge blow at the door, and then they bid the farmer look up, telling him the old woman was gone; however, he would not let go his hold of Mr. Carew. Just as day-light appeared, his companion went forth, and picked up the stones from the stairs, entry, &c. He had scarce done this, before the old farmer came down, to see if his son was alive, and if they had seen old Joan. He accosted them with, How do you do? how have you spent the night? O father, replied the son, most terribly indeed. You can't conceive what rattlings and noises we heard; but this good man secured me in his arms. But what smell is this? replied the father; sure old Joan stinks of brimstone, or something worse, if she brought this along with her. Ay, father, father, said the son, I believe you would have raised as bad a smell as I have done, if you had been here. Well, well, said the father, perhaps I might; but have you spoken to old Joan? Yes, indeed, replied Mr. Carew. And what does the old woman say? she says, if her will is not exactly fulfilled as she desired, she will never leave haunting you; but, if it be, all shall be well and quiet. They then went to the farmer's house, where they were made very welcome, and received the twenty shillings, according to promise, the farmer requesting they would stay the next night by themselves, for he believed his son would have no stomach to go with them, and tell the old woman every thing should be fulfilled according to her will, and they should be satisfied to their content. They accordingly passed the next night there very merrily, and received another twenty shillings in the morning, which was well bestowed too by the farmer; for ever after the house had the reputation of being quiet.

Mr. Carew and his companion then set forward for Porlock, where they parted company; and Mr. Carew coming into Porlock, met Dr. Tanner, a relation of old Joan Liddon's, and his brother, Parson Tanner, who was with him. After the usual salutations, he very composedly asked if they had heard the news of the conjuring old Joan? The doctor replied they had heard something of it, and that he was resolved either to send or take a ride over himself, to inquire into the truth of it. He confirmed it to them, which occasioned a great deal of discourse about it, and who these two conjurers could be.

We should, perhaps, have passed over in silence this adventure of our hero's, but that an author of the first rate has taken a great deal of pains to frighten a poor soldier, and entertain his readers by dressing up his hero in a white coloured coat, covered with streams of blood; though we cannot well conceive how those streams of blood, which ran down the coat in the morning, should appear so very visible twenty hours after, in the middle of the night, and at a distance by the light of a single candle; notwithstanding this great author has very judicously acquainted us with a light-coloured coat; but however this may be, we are of opinion that the farmer's son in the above adventure is a more entertaining character than the soldier in the renowned history we are speaking of; and that our hero, whenever it was needful, could make a much more tremendous figure than Mr. Jones in his white-coloured coat covered with streams of blood. The following is a sufficient instance.

Mr. Carew being in the town of Southmolton, in Devon, and having been ill used by a great officer, vulgarly called the bellman, was resolved to take comical revenge. It was about that time reported and generally believed, that a gentleman of the town, lately buried, walked by night in the church-yard; and, as the bellman was obliged by his nightly duty to go through it just at the hour of one, that well-known accustomed time of spectres issuing from their graves, Mr. Carew repaired there a little before the time, and, stripping to his shirt, lay down upon the gentleman's grave. Soon after, hearing the bellman approach, he raised himself up with a solemn slowness; which the bellman beholding, by the glimmering light of the moon through some thick clouds, he was harrowed up (as Shakspeare expresses it) with fear and wonder, and an universal palsy seized every limb; but, as nature most commonly dictates flight in all such cases, he retreated with as much haste as his shaking limbs would allow; yet, as fear naturally inclines us to look back upon the object we are flying from, he several times cast his eyes behind him, and beheld the ghost follow him with a solemn march. This added fresh vigour to his flight, so that he tumbled over graves and stones, not without many bruises, and at length dropped his bell, which the ghost seized upon as trophy, and forbore any farther pursuit. The bellman, however, did not stop till he reached home, where he obstinately affirmed he had seen the gentleman's ghost, who had taken away his bell, which greatly alarmed the whole town; and there were not wanting many who afterwards frequently heard the ghost ringing the bell in the church-yard.

It was some time before the bellman had the courage to resume his usual nightly rounds through the church-yard; but after a while, his fear abating, he ventured upon it again, and met with no interruption. Mr. Carew happening about a year afterwards to be in Southmolton again, was afresh insulted by the bellman, which made him resolve to give him a second meeting in the church-yard; taking therefore the opportunity of a very dark night, he dressed himself in a black gown, put a great fur cap upon his head, and at the usual time of the bellman coming, repaired to the church-yard, holding in his mouth, by the middle, a stick lighted at both ends, at the same time rattling a heavy iron chain. If the bellman's terror before was great, it was now much greater; and indeed the appearance, joined to the rattling of the chain, was so hideous, that the boldest soldier might have been terrified by it, without any imputation of cowardice. The bellman fled away with all the wings of fear, the spectre following him at a distance, rattling the chain with a most hideous noise; hence the bellman concluded himself to be haunted by the devil, and declined ever after his nocturnal employment.

About this time Mr. Carew met with one Mr. Philips, a celebrated limner in Porlock, who showed him a great many pictures of different likenesses, and asked him if he knew any of them. He pointed out his old school-fellow, Edward Dyke, Esq., and Sir Thomas Carew. Mr. Philips then asked him if he would sit for his picture, as he had been desired to draw it for Mr. Copplestone Bampfylde; which our hero agreeing to, he went the next day, and the following, to sit for the picture, undisguised. When it was finished, Mr. Philips desired him to come again another time in his mumping dress, which he accordingly promised to do.

After this he went to Minehead, and called on several of his old acquaintance, viz. Dr. Bell, Parson Beer, and the Collector, who all treated him very kindly. Having raised contributions from these gentlemen, he repaired to his quarters, and desired them to lend him a pair of trowsers. Having a mind to try some of the neighbouring country parishes, he pretended to be a cast-away seaman, 3500 miles from home, and picked up a great deal of money, and seven or eight pounds of bacon, which he brought to his quarters, and gave as a recompense for the loan of the trowsers.

Some days after he met with an old female acquaintance, who had a young child with her, at a place called Embercomb, with whom joining company, they came into Dunster, and lay at private lodgings. The next day, being willing to indulge his companion, he borrowed her child, a gown, and one of her petticoats. Thus accoutred, with the child in his arms, he returned to Minehead among the gentlemen he had so lately received contributions from; and pretending to be an unfortunate woman, whose house had been burnt at Chadleigh, and giving a good account of that place and its inhabitants to those who questioned him, coughing very violently, and making the child cry, he got a great deal of money, clothes for the child, and victuals. On his return to Dunster, he gave the mother of the child the clothes, and the greatest part of the money he had obtained in his trip; neither was this method new to him, for he had long before this taught his own daughter, a little infant, to say, "drowned in a boat," as often as he or any other person asked her what was become of her mother, or mammy. Having made her perfect in this lesson, he set out with her upon his back, and pretended to have been a sailor on board a vessel that had been lately lost on the coast of Wales, when most of the ship's crew and passengers were drowned, among whom, he said, was the mother of the tender infant at his back, and that he had saved himself and the infant by swimming. By this story he pocketed a great deal of money every where, especially, as by way of confirmation, when he was telling of it, he would turn and ask the babe, where is your poor mammy, my dear, my jewel? To which the babe would reply, drowned in the boat; which so affected all that heard it, that it not only drew their purse but their tears also.

From Dunster he went through the country to Ilfracombe, where he inquired for a passage to Ireland. He was told there was no vessel going to Ireland, but that he might have a passage for Wales, which he soon resolved upon, and, after waiting upon the collector and some other friends in Ilfracombe, set sail for Swansea. He had no sooner landed there, than he repaired to the Rev. Mr. Griffy of that place, in the character of a cast-away seaman, a native of Devonshire; and, as he gave a particular account of Mr. Griffy's son, the minister of Bishop's Nympton, he was made very welcome, and handsomely relieved, and by his recommendations obtained a great deal of money in the town.

From thence he went in the same character to Lord Mansell's, at Cowbridge, and other places, and returned to Swansea. Thence he set out again, travelling through the country to Tenby, where, hearing of one Captain Lott, he waited upon him with the same story, but with the addition of his name being John Lott, whereby he soon got half-a-crown and a good welcome. He next set out for Carmarthen, and raised a great deal of money from the Welsh gentry, pretending now to be an unfortunate sailor belonging to Ireland, who had been cast away near Portland Race, coming from Bilboa. He proceeded upon the same story to Aberystwyth and Port Ely, where he chanced to meet with a brother of the mendicant order, to whom he was well known; they inquired of each other's success, and many other particulars, and agreed to join company for some time. Mr. Carew now got a cere-cloth of pitch, which he laid to his arms, with a raw beef-steak at the top, covered over with white bread and tar, which has the exact appearance of a green wound. They still continued in the same story of being cast away, but, added to it, that he had fallen off the rigging, and wounded his arm in that manner. They travelled together with good success as far as Shadwell, where they parted company.

Our hero made the best of his way to Holyhead, and begging a passage on board the packet to Dublin, after a fine trip landed at King's End, near that city. His first inquiry here was for an old acquaintance, and in particular for one Mr. Crab, and Lord Annesly, who had been schoolfellows with him at Tiverton. He found my Lord Annesly lived a mile from the town, but did not see him the first day, being gone to Blessington, as the servants told him. Accordingly he set out for that town the next day, where he found my lord at a tavern with several officers; he went in, and told the tavern-keeper he wanted to speak with his lordship; but, as his appearance was none of the best, the tavern-keeper did not like to deliver this message to my lord, but asked what his business was. Tell him, said he, that I am an old school-fellow of his, and want to see him. My lord, being told this, came out with two gentlemen, and inquired who he was; which our hero told him. Ha! Mr. Carew, said his lordship, is it you, mon? walk in, walk in. What, said one of the captains, is this old Carew? the very same, replied my lord. After he had sat down for some time, and talked over several old affairs with my lord, one of the captains asked him if he could get him a good pointer. Ay, ay, that he can, replied his lordship; for, by my saul, mon, he and I have stolen many a dog, and lain in many a hay tallet, in our youthful days. Then turning to Mr. Carew, he told his fame was spread as much in Ireland as in England. Indeed it is so, replied one of the captains. His lordship then asked him how he found him out there. He replied, he had been directed there by their old school-fellow, Crab. Well, said my lord, you shall go home along with me. He desired to be excused, as he designed to go and see lord St. Leger, who was another of his school-fellows; but my lord swore by his saul he should go home along with him, and visit Lord St. Leger another time; accordingly a good horse was provided for him, and they all set out for Dublin.

The next day my Lord Annesly took him to his own house. During his abode here, which was about a fortnight, our hero received great civilities from the Irish gentry; Lord Annesly introducing him to all the chief company in the city, as the man they had heard so much talk of. One day Mr. O'Brien, a gentleman of great fortune, being in company, asked Mr. Carew if he had ever been on board the Yarmouth man-of-war; he replied, that he had been in her up the Baltic. The gentleman asked if he remembered a young gentleman about fourteen years of age, very fat, and who had a livery-servant to wait on him. He replied, that he remembered him very well, and that he was blest with as beautiful a face as any youth he ever saw. The gentleman then asked him if he recollected what became of him; which he answered, by saying he died at Gosport a day or two after they landed; and that Mr. Price, of Pool, composed a Latin epitaph for him; at which the gentleman could not refrain letting fall some tears, it being his own brother he was speaking of. He then asked what men-of-war were with them at that time; all which he gave a very good account of, saying, Sir Charles Wager and Rear-Admiral Walton commanded; Sir Charles carrying a red flag at the fore-topmast head of the Torbay, and the latter a blue at the mizen of the Cumberland, both eighty-gun ships. The gentleman replied, he was satisfied, for he had given a very faithful account of every thing; he then made Mr. Carew a present to drink his health when he came to England, as Lord Annesly said he would supply him while he was in Ireland. A great hunting-match being proposed, Lord Annesly told them that Mr. Carew could make one with the best of them at the diversion, upon which he was desired to make one of the party. Accordingly, they set out very early next morning, and had fine sport, he exerting all his abilities, though he was afraid of riding into some bogs, of which the country is full. When the chase was ended, they all went to Lord Annesly's to dinner, and the company allowed him to be an excellent sportsman.

Lord Annesly afterwards took him to Newry and many other places, introducing him to much company. At length he desired liberty to go and see his old school-fellow, Lord St. Leger, at Donnerail, which Lord Annesly would not consent to, unless he promised to call upon him again on his return; which agreeing to do, he sent his servant with him as far as Blessington. Parting with the servant here, he travelled to Kilkenny; thence to Cashel, (where is a fine seat belonging to Lord Mark Ker,) Clonmel, and Cahir, where our hero was taken dangerously ill. It would be unpardonable not to mention the hospitality he was treated with here. His good landlady, finding him so ill, sent for the minister of the place to come and pray by him, which he accordingly did, and at going away clapped half-a-crown into his hand, and soon after sent an apothecary to him, who administered what medicines were proper for him, which had so good an effect as to enable him to get upon his legs: however, they would not let him proceed forward for several days, lest he should relapse; and before he set out, the minister of the parish sent his clerk round the place to make a collection for the stranger. At length, being perfectly recovered, he set out for Lord St. Leger's. When he came there, and was introduced, my lord presently recollected him, and cried, Why sure, and doubly sure, it is Carew! He then asked how long he had been in Ireland; adding, he hoped he would stay with him for some time. His lordship made him very welcome, and they talked over some of the merry pranks they had played together. Mr. Carew inquired if Sir Matthew Day, another of their old schoolfellows, was alive. His lordship told him he was dead; but that there was a young gentleman would be glad to see any old friend of his father's. He abode with Lord St. Leger about a fortnight, being entertained in the kindest manner possible; at his departure, my lord made him a handsome present, and gave him a good suit of clothes, with a recommendatory letter to young Mr. Day.

Here he was received with great civility, as well upon account of Lord St. Leger's letter, as being an old school-fellow of Mr. Day's father. The conversation happening to turn upon dogs, Mr. Day told him he had heard he was very famous for enticing dogs away, and that Sir William Courtenay's steward had told him there was not a dog could resist his allurements; however, he believed he had one that would; he then ordered a surly morose dog to be brought out, and offered to lay a wager he could not entice him away, which he readily accepted, and began to whistle to the dog, but found him very surly; upon which he took out a little bottle, and dropping a few drops upon a bit of paper, held it unseen to the dog, and then told Mr. Day the dog would follow him to England. Away then he went, and the dog after him. Mr. Day and his servants all followed, calling Roger, Roger, which was the name of the dog; but Roger turning a deaf ear to all they could say, not thinking proper to turn about once. Mr. Carew having diverted himself sufficiently, by leading Mr. Day and his servants above half-a-mile, turned back again, with the dog still following him. Having abode here some days, he took his leave, receiving a handsome present from Mr. Day; he then returned back to Lord Annesly, and thence to Kinsale, where he took the first opportunity of a vessel, and landed at Padstow, in Cornwall, after a short and pleasant passage.

From this place he went to Camelford; thence to Great Torrington, where he met with his wife, and then proceeded to Biddeford: and on the next day, being Sunday, he strolled down to one Holmes, who kept a public-house between Biddeford and Appledore, where he passed great part of the day drinking pretty freely; and money being at a low ebb with him, he desired landlord Holmes to lend him a good suit of clothes, which he accordingly did. Being thus gallantly equipped, he went and planted himself at the church-door in Biddeford, and pretending to be the supercargo of a vessel which had been a few days before cast away near the Lizard, he got a very handsome contribution. From thence he travelled to Barnstaple, where he had great success, none suspecting him in his dress, as it was certainly known such a ship had been really cast away near the Lizard a few days before. Returning back, he called upon Squire Ackland, at Tremington, where he got half-a-crown of the lady upon the same story; then, steering to Appledore, he met with landlord Holmes, who had been in no little fear about his clothes; however, he would not disrobe till he got to Appledore, where also he added to his store, and then returning to Holmes, he restored him his clothes, and gave him some small part of the profit of the excursion.

It was about this time Mr. Carew became acquainted with the Hon. Sir William Wyndham in the following manner.—Being at Watchet, in Somersetshire, near the seat of this gentleman, he was resolved to pay him a visit; putting on, therefore, a jacket and a pair of trowsers, he made the best of his way to Orchard Wyndham, Sir William's seat; and luckily met with him, Lord Bolingbroke, and several other gentlemen and clergy, with some commanders of vessels, walking in the park. Mr. Carew approached Sir William with a great deal of seeming fearfulness and respect; and with much modesty acquainted him he was a Silverton man, (which parish chiefly belonged to Sir William,) and that he was the son of one of his tenants, named Moore; that he had been at Newfoundland, and in his passage homeward, the vessel was run down by a French ship in a fog, and only he and two more saved; and, being put on board an Irish vessel, he was carried into Ireland, and from thence landed at Watchet. Sir William, hearing this, asked him a great many questions concerning the inhabitants of Silverton, who were most of them his own tenants, and of the principal gentlemen in the neighbourhood, all of whom Mr. Carew was perfectly well acquainted with, and therefore gave satisfactory answers. Sir William at last asked him if he knew Bickley, (which is but a small distance from Silverton,) and if he knew the parson there. Mr. Carew replied he knew him very well, and indeed so he might, as it was no other than his own father. Sir William then inquired what family he had, and whether he had not a son called Bampfylde, and what was become of him. Your honour, replied he, means the mumper and dog-stealer: I don't know what has become of him, but it is a wonder he is not hanged by this time. No, I hope not, replied Sir William; I should be very glad, for his family's sake, to see him at my house. Having satisfactorily answered many other questions, Sir William, generously relieved him with a guinea, and Lord Bolingbroke followed his example; the other gentlemen and clergy contributed according to their different ranks, which they were the more inclined to do, as the captains found he could give a very exact account of all the settlements, harbours, and most noted inhabitants of Newfoundland. Sir William then ordered him to go to his house, and tell the butler to see him well entertained, which he accordingly did; and he set himself down with great content and satisfaction; but our enjoyments are often so suddenly dashed, that it has become a proverb, "that many things happen between the cup and the lip," and Mr. Carew found it so; for, while he was in the midst of his regale, he saw enter, not the ghost of bloody Banquo to take his seat from him, nor yet the much more tremendous figure of Mr. Tom Jones, in a light-coloured coat covered with streams of blood; no, but the foot-post from Silverton, with letters to Sir William. This proved to be little less than a very sharp sword hanging by a hair over Mr. Carew's head, for, as he thought it natural Sir William would ask him some questions about Mr. Moore, and as he did not choose, though he had passed Sir William's strict examination, to undergo a fresh one, he made great haste to rise from table, and set out without using much ceremony. A few miles distant from hence he met Dr. Poole going from Dulverton to Sir William's, who, knowing Mr. Carew, stopped his horse to talk to him. Amongst other conversation at Sir William's, the Dr. happened to mention whom he had met that day (not knowing that he had been lately there); it was soon known by the description he gave of his person and habit, to be no other than the unfortunate Silverton man, to whom Sir William and his friends had been so generous, which occasioned a great deal of mirth. About two months after, Mr. Carew again ventured to pay his honour a second visit, in the habit and character of an unfortunate grazier; he met the worthy baronet and his lady taking the air in a chaise, in a meadow where some haymakers were then at work; he approached them with a great deal of modest simplicity, and began a very moving tale of the misfortunes he had met with in life. In the midst of his oration, Sir William called to the haymakers to secure him; which struck his eloquence dumb, or at least changed it from the pathetic to the tragic style, for he could not conceive what might be the end of this; however, the baronet soon gave him a choice of either a true confession of his name and profession, or a commitment to prison; he made choice of the former, and confessed himself to be Bampfylde Moore Carew, sovereign of the whole community of mendicants. Sir William, with a great deal of good-nature, treated him with all that respect which is due to royalty; entertained him generously at his house, and made him a very handsome present at his departure, desiring him to call upon him as he came that way; and he was ever a constant friend and benefactor to him.

Soon after this he planned a new design, which he put into execution with great success. Dressing himself up in a chequered shirt, jacket, and trowsers, he went upon Exeter quay, and, with the rough but artless air and behaviour of a sailor, inquired for some of the king's officers, whom he informed that he belonged to a vessel lately come from France, which had landed a large quantity of run goods, but the captain was a rascal, and had used him ill, and damn his blood if he would not —-. He was about to proceed, but the officers, who with greedy ears swallowed all he said, interrupted him by taking him into the custom-house, and filling him a bumper of cherry brandy, which when he had drunk, they forced another upon him, persuading him to wet the other eye, rightly judging that the old proverb, 'In wine there is truth,' might with equal propriety be applied to brandy, and that they should have the fuller discovery, the more the honest sailor's heart was cheered; but, that no provocation should be wanting to engage him to speak the truth, they asked him if he wanted any money. He with much art answered very indifferently, no; adding, he scorned to make such a discovery out of a mercenary view, but that he was resolved to be revenged of his captain. They then ordered him to the sign of the Boot, in St. Thomas's, Exeter, whither they soon followed him, having first sent to Mr. Eastwood, an exciseman, to ask what he would have for dinner, and what liquor he would have to drink. A fire was lighted up stairs in a private room, a couple of ducks roasted, and full glasses of wine and punch went cheerfully round; they then thrust four guineas into his hand, which at first he seemed unwilling to accept of, which made them the more pressing. He now began to open his mind with great freedom, gave a particular account of the vessel, where they had taken in their cargo at France, and what it consisted of; the day they sailed, and the time they were on their passage; and at last concluded with acquainting them they had landed and concealed part of their valuable cargo in the out-houses of Squire Mallock, of Cockington, and the remainder in those of Squire Cary, of Tor-abbey, both which houses, upon account of their situation on the sea-side, were very noted for such concealments. The officers, having now got on the scent, were like sagacious hounds for pursuing it forthwith, and also thought proper the sailor should accompany them; and, to prevent all suspicion, resolved he should now change his habit; they therefore dressed him in a ruffled shirt, a fine suit of broad cloth belonging to the collector, and put a gold-laced hat on his head; then, mounting him on a fine black mare, away they rode together, being in all seven or eight of them; they that night reached Newton-Bushel, and slept at the Bull; nothing was wanting to make the night jovial; the greatest delicacies the town afforded were served up at their table, the best liquors were broached for them, and music, with its enlivening charms, crowned the banquet; the officers' hearts were quite open and cheerful, as they already enjoyed, in imagination, all the booty they were to seize on the morrow. Thinking they could not do enough for the honest sailor, they inquired if he knew any thing of accounts; promising, if he did, to get him a place in the customs. In the morning, after a good hearty breakfast, they set forward for Tor-abbey; and, being arrived in Tor-town, they demanded the constables' assistance, who was with the utmost reluctance prevailed on to accompany them in making this search; Squire Gary being a gentleman so universally beloved by the whole parish, (to which he always behaved as a father,) that every one was very backward in doing any thing to give him the least uneasiness. Did gentlemen of large estates in the country but once taste the exalted pleasure of making the whole neighbourhood happy, and consider how much honest industry they might support, how much misery they might alleviate, and how many daily blessings they might have poured forth upon their heads from hearts overflowing with love, respect and gratitude, almost to adoration, we should not so often see them leave their noble country mansions to repair to noise and folly; nor exchange the heart-enlivening pleasure of making numbers happy, for the beguiling smiles and unmeaning professions of a prime minister.

Being come to the house, they all dismounted, and the collector desired the sailor to hold his horse, but he replied he would rather go round the garden, and meet them on the other side of the house, to prevent any thing from being conveyed away, and that it would be proper he should be present to show the particular place where every thing was deposited. This appeared quite right to the collector; he therefore contented himself with fastening his horse to the garden rails, and proceeded with the rest of the officers, in great form, to search the dog-kennel, coal-house, dove-house, stables, and all other suspicious places, expecting every minute to see the informing sailor, who by this time had nearly got back to Newton-Bushel, having turned his horse's head that way as soon as he was out of sight of the collector. He stopped at the Bull, where they had been the preceding night, and drank a bottle of wine; then, ordering a handsome dinner to be got ready for his company, whom he said he had left behind, because his business called him with urgent haste to Exeter, he clapped his spurs to his horse, and did not stop till he reached that city, where he put up at the Oxford inn, then kept by Mr. Buckstone, to whom both himself and friends were well known; he acquainted Mr. Buckstone that he was now reformed, and lived at home with his friends, and spent the night very jovially, calling for the best of every thing. In the morning he desired Mr. Buckstone to do him the favour of lending him a couple of guineas, till he could receive some of a merchant in the city upon whom he had a bill, for the merchant was gone out of town. As Mr. Buckstone had a mare in his custody worth ten or twelve pounds, he made no scruple of doing it; and soon after Mr. Carew thought proper to change his quarters, without bidding the landlord good-bye. Leaving the mare to discharge the reckoning and the loan he had borrowed, he repaired immediately to a house of usual resort for his community, where he pulls off the fine clothes the collector had lent him, and rigged himself again in a jacket and trowsers; then setting out for Topsham, about three miles from the city of Exeter, he there executed the same stratagem upon Mr. Carter and the other officers there; informing them also of some great concealments at Sir Coppleston Bampfylde's house, at Poltimore, for which they rewarded him with a good treat and a couple of guineas.

The Exeter officers (whom, as we have before said, he left without the least ceremony at Squire Gary's) having searched all the out-houses, and even in the dwelling-house, very narrowly, without finding any prohibited goods, began to suspect the sailor had outwitted them; therefore they returned in a great hurry to Newton-Bushel, all their mirth being turned into vexation, and their great expectations vanished into smoke. Soon after they had dismounted from their horses, the landlord brought in the dinner, which he said their companion had ordered to be got ready for them; but though it was a very elegant one, yet they found abundance of faults with every thing; however, as it was too late to reach Exeter that night, they were obliged to take up their quarters there; but, instead of the jollity and good humour that reigned among them the night before, there now succeeded a sullen silence, interrupted now and then by some exclamations of revenge, and expressions of dislike of every thing that was brought them: when they came into Exeter the next day, they had intelligence brought them of the mare, which was safe enough at the Oxford inn; but they were obliged to disburse the money Mr. Carew had made her surety for.

From Topsham Mr. Carew proceeded to Exmouth, where he also succeeded, and from thence to Squire Stucky's, a justice of peace at Brandscombe, about four miles from Sidmouth; and, being introduced, acquainted his worship with several discoveries he could make; the justice thereupon immediately dispatched a messenger for Mr. Duke, an officer in Sidmouth; in the mean time he entertained him very handsomely, and pressed him to accept of two guineas, as a small token of kindness, often shaking him by the hand, and saying, he thought himself very much obliged to him for making this discovery: and that, as a reward for his loyalty to the king, he would engage to get him a place, having many friends at London. About two o'clock the next morning, Mr. Duke, the sailor, and servant of the squire's, set forward towards Honiton, it being at Squire Blagdon's, near the town, where they were to find the hidden treasure. Mr. Carew was mounted on a good horse of Justice Stucky's, and, while the officer and servant were very busy in searching the out-houses and stables, Mr. Carew gave them the slip, and posted away to Honiton, and took some refreshment at the Three Lions; then leaving the justice's horse to answer for it, hasted away to Lime, in Dorsetshire; where he applied to Mr. Jordan, the collector of the place, whom he sent upon the same errand some miles off, to Colonel Brown's, at Frampton; but the collector, not judging it proper for him to accompany him, for fear of creating suspicion, left him at his own house till his return, giving his servant orders to let him want for nothing; at the same time making him a handsome present, as an earnest of a greater reward when he returned. Mr. Carew enjoyed himself very contentedly at the collector's house for several hours, both eating and drinking of the best, as he knew Frampton was at too great a distance for him to return presently; but he prudently weighed his anchor when he thought the collector might be on his return, and steered his course towards Weymouth, where he made his application to the collector, and after being handsomely treated, and a present given to him, sent the officers to Squire Groves's, near White-street, and Squire Barber's, on the Chase, both in Wiltshire. And as soon as they were gone, he set out for Poole; and sent the collector and officers of that place to Sir Edward Boobey's, who lived in the road between Salisbury and Hendon; they gave him two guineas in hand, and a promise of more upon their return with the booty; in the mean time they recommended him to an inn, and gave orders that he should have any thing the house afforded, and they would make satisfaction for it; but this adventure had like not to have ended so well for him as the former; for, being laid down upon a bed to nap, having drunk too freely, he heard some people drinking and talking in the next room of the great confusion there was in all the sea-ports in the west of England, occasioned by a trick put on the king's officers by one Bampfylde Carew, and that this news was brought to Poole by a Devonshire gentleman, who accidently came that way. Mr. Carew hearing this, rightly judged Poole was no proper place to make a longer stay in; he therefore instantly arose, and, by the help of a back door, got into a garden, and with much difficulty climbed over the wall belonging thereto, and made the best of his way to Christchurch, in Hampshire; here he assumed the character of a shipwrecked seaman, and raised considerable contributions. Coming to Ringwood, he inquired of the health of Sir Thomas Hobbes, a gentleman in that neighbourhood, who was a person of great hospitality; he was told that some of the mendicant order, having abused his benevolence, in taking away a pair of boots, after he had received a handsome present from him, it had so far prejudiced Sir Thomas, that he did not exercise the same hospitality as formerly. This greatly surprised and concerned Mr. Carew, that any of his subjects should be guilty of so ungrateful an action: he was resolved therefore to inquire strictly into it, that, if he could find out the offender, he might inflict a deserved punishment upon him; and therefore resolved to pay a visit to Sir Thomas the next morning, hoping he should get some light into the affair. When he came to the house, it was pretty early in the day, and Sir Thomas had not come out of his chamber; however, he sent up his pass, as a shipwrecked seaman, by one of the servants, who presently returned with half-a-crown. As he had been always wont to receive a large present from Sir Thomas, whenever he had applied to him, he thought there was some unfair practice at the bottom; he therefore asked the footman for a copper of ale to drink the family's health, hoping Sir Thomas might come down by that time; the servant pretended to be in so great a hurry, that he could not attend to draw any, but he was of too humane a nature to permit the poor sailor to suffer by his hurry, so gave him a shilling out of his own pocket to drink at the next public-house. This extraordinary generosity of the footman increased Mr. Carew's suspicion; he therefore kept loitering about the door, and often looking up at the window, in hopes of seeing Sir Thomas, which accordingly happened, for at length he flung up the sash, and accosted him in a free familiar manner, called him Brother Tar, and told him he was very sorry for his misfortunes, and that he had sent him a piece of money to assist him in his journey towards Bristol. Heaven bless your honour, replied he, for the half-crown your honour sent me; upon which Sir Thomas ran down in his morning gown, and with great passion seized the footman by the throat, and asked him what he had given the sailor. The fellow was struck dumb with this, and indeed there was no need for his tongue on the present occasion, as his looks, and the trembling of his limbs, sufficiently declared his guilt; however he at last owned it with his tongue; and excused himself by saying, he knew there was an ill use made of the large bounties his honour gave. Sir Thomas, enraged at the insolence of his servant, bestowed upon him the discipline of the horse-whip, for his great care and integrity in not seeing his bounty abused; adding, he now saw by whose villany he had lost his boots. He then made the footman return the whole guinea to the sailor, and discharged him from any further service in his family; upon which Mr. Carew took his leave with great thankfulness, and went his way, highly pleased with his good success in this adventure.—Here we cannot forbear wishing that there was no higher character in life than Sir Thomas's footman, to whose hands gold is apt to cling in passing through them; that there was no steward who kept back part of his master's rent, because he thinks he has more than he knows what to do with; no managers of charities, who retain part of the donors' benefactions in their own hands, because it is too much for the poor; nor officers of the public, who think they may squander the public treasure without account, because what is everybody's is nobody's.

Mr. Carew having laid aside his sailor's habit, put on a long loose vest, placed a turban on his head, dignified his chin with a venerable long beard, and was now no other than a poor unfortunate Grecian, whose misfortunes had overtaken him in a strange country. He could not utter his sorrowful tale, being unacquainted with the language of the country; but his mute silence, his dejected countenance, a sudden tear that now and then flowed down his cheek, accompanied with a noble air of distress, all pleaded for him in more persuasive eloquence than perhaps the softest language could have done, and raised him considerable gains; and indeed benevolence can never be better exerted than towards unfortunate strangers, for no distress can be so forlorn as that of a man in necessity in a foreign country; he has no friends to apply to, no laws to shelter him under, no means to provide for his subsistence, and therefore can have no resource but in those benevolent minds who look upon the whole world as their own brethren.

We have already mentioned Mr. Carew's being on board the Yarmouth man-of-war up the Baltic; it will not, therefore, be improper here to relate the occasion of that voyage, which was as follows:—He and his friend, Coleman, being at Plymouth, and appearing to be able-bodied men, some officers seeing them there, thought them extremely fit to serve his majesty, therefore obliged them to go on board the Dunkirk man-of-war: but they not liking this, Coleman pricked himself upon the wrists, between his fingers, and other joints, and inflamed it so with gunpowder, that every one thought it to be the itch; he was therefore carried ashore, and put into the hospital, from whence he soon made his escape. Mr. Carew tried the stragem, but too late; for the Lively and Success men-of-war now arriving from Ireland with impressed men, they were all of them carried immediately (together with the impressed men lying at Plymouth) to the grand fleet, then lying at Spithead; they were first put on board the Bredau, Admiral Hosier, to choose whom he liked of them: and their names being called over, the Irishmen were all refused; which Mr. Carew seeing declared himself, in a true Irish brogue, to be a poor Irish weaver, and disabled in one arm, whereupon he was also refused: the Irish, among whom he was now ranked, were carried from ship to ship, and none would accept of them, which made them all expect to be discharged; but they were disappointed in their hopes, for they were put on board the Yarmouth, Captain O'Brien, being one of the squadron destined for the Baltic. Mr. Carew finding Captain O'Brien refused no Irishmen, when he came to be examined changed his note, and declared himself to be an Englishman, but crippled in one arm: however, the captain accepted of him, and putting a sword in his hand, made him stand sentry at the bitts, which easy post he liked very well; and during all the time he was on board, every one supposed him really disabled in his arm.

The fleet, sailing from Spithead with a fair wind, anchored safely at Copenhagen, and then the king of Denmark came on board Sir Charles Wager: the moment he set his foot on board, both the flag-ships were covered with an infinite number of colours of every hue, which, waving in the wind, made a most gallant sight: upon his departure, the colours were all taken down in an instant, and every ship fired eighteen or twenty guns. Sailing from Copenhagen, they anchored next in Elson Cape, in Sweden; from hence they sailed to Revel, in a line of battle, in form of a rainbow, and anchored there: the sick men were carried ashore to Aragan island, which Mr. Carew observing, and burning with love to revisit his native country, counterfeited sickness, and was accordingly carried ashore to this island, which lies near Revel, belonging to the Muscovites, from whence boats came every day to fetch wood. He prevailed upon an Englishman, who was a boatswain to one of the Czarina's men-of-war, to give him a passage in his boat from that island to Revel town; when he came there, the boatswain used great endeavours to persuade him to enter her majesty's service, but it was all in vain, being resolved to return to his beloved country; the boatswain, therefore, having entertained him a day and a night at his house, gave him, at his departure, a piece of money, and engaged several Englishmen of his acquaintance to do the same; he likewise furnished him with a bag of provisions, a bottle of excellent brandy, a tinder-box, and a few lines wrote in that country language, which he was to show to those he met, to inform him of the road he was to go; and then conducted him out of the town. That night he took up his lodgings in the woods, and, by the help of his tinder-box, made a large fire all round him, to secure himself from any visits from the wild beasts, then broiled a piece of flesh, drank a dram, and rested very quietly till morning, it being the middle of summer.

The whole country here is wild, full of large woods and uninhabited deserts, the towns and villages lying very thin. In the morning, finding his way out of the woods, he espied a lonely hut, to which he made up, and making signs of hunger and thirst, they gave him some rusk bread and cabereta, or goat's flesh, to eat, and some goat's milk to drink, which is the usual fare amongst those people, who are most of them Lutherans by religion, and lead very sober lives; of some of them he got small bits of money, which they call campekes, and are of silver, something larger than a barley-corn, being of a penny value; he likewise frequently got drams of excellent brandy amongst them, and his shoes being worn-out by travelling, they gave him a pair of good wooden ones, which sat very awkwardly on his English feet.

After six or seven days' travel through this wild country he came to Riga, a large town and famous sea-port: here he met with many English merchants and commanders of vessels, who were very kind to him; he tarried two days in Riga, to rest and refresh himself: during which the English merchants and commanders provided lodgings and other accommodations for him, collecting upwards of fifty shillings for him. Having expressed his utmost gratitude towards his good benefactors, he again pursued his journey, subsisting himself sometimes on the charity of the inhabitants of the country, and at other times milking the cows upon the mountains or in the woods. The next place of note he arrived at was the city of Dantzic, in the kingdom of Poland: here he found a great number of English merchants who traded to Exeter, and Bristol, and had many correspondents living in those places, several of whom Mr. Carew being acquainted with, he gave a particular account of.

Having been entertained here very hospitably for several days, he set out again, having first received some handsome presents from the English merchants. From Dantzic he got a passage on board an English brigantine bound for Copenhagen, but through stress of weather was obliged to put into Elson Cape, where he went on shore, and travelled by land to Stockholm, the capital of Sweden, but in his road thither he lost his way in this wild and desert country, and for the space of three days and nights saw neither house, hut, nor human creature, the weather being very thick and foggy. Nothing could be more melancholy and dreadful than these three days' travel; his provisions were exhausted, and every step he took he was uncertain whether it might lead him farther into the woods, as he could make no observation how the country lay, the fog intercepting the light of every thing. Sometimes fancy would paint to him a hut through the fog at a little distance, to which he would direct his steps with eager haste, but when he came nearer, found it nothing but an illusion of sight, which almost drove him to despair. The fourth day he was exceedingly hungry, when, to his great joy, he espied two she-goats fastened together with ropes of straw: he ran to them with great eagerness, and drunk very heartily of their milk; after this he began to consider that there must be some hut at least hard by, as the goats could not have strayed in that manner any great distance; he therefore resolved to stay upon the spot for some time; and soon after the fog clearing up, he espied a hut just before him, to which he directly repaired, and there got a belly-full of their homely fare, and directions to find his way to Stockholm.

The religion of this country being chiefly Lutheran, he passed for the son of a presbyterian parson, and his name Slowly, pretending to have been cast away in a vessel bound for Revel. The Lutherans at Stockholm were exceedingly kind to him and raised a handsome contribution for him. He likewise chanced there to meet with a relation of Dr. Bredaw, a Swiss gentleman, that resided at Dartmouth, in Devonshire, who asked several questions about him; and as Mr. Carew was well acquainted with him, he gave very satisfactory answers, upon which account that gentleman gave him a guinea, a great fur cap, a coat, and a fine dog, with a letter to carry to his relation at Dartmouth.

From Stockholm he went to Charles-town, and after a short stay there continued his journey to Copenhagen, the metropolis of Denmark; here he met with one Captain Thomas Giles, of Minehead in Somersetshire, who knew him, and was surprised to see him in that part of the world, and not only liberally relieved him himself, but recommended him to several English commanders there, and also to several inhabitants of the city. From Copenhagen he went to Elsinburgh, thence to Elsinore, where he got a passage for England, and once more arrived in his native country. Landing at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, he visited his wife's relations, and then set forward for Devonshire, travelling all the way in the character of a shipwrecked seaman. Meeting at Exeter with his beloved wife, and likewise with his friend Coleman and his wife, they travelled together for some time, during which Coleman's wife was delivered of a daughter; but as they found so helpless an infant a great hindrance to their travelling, Mr. Carew contrived a stratagem to get rid of it, and at the same time advanced the fortune of the child.