omission to read them would subject him to a presentment at the next Visitation of his Archdeacon, which the relatives of the deceased might require the Churchwardens of the parish to make.

"After meeting the corpse, the Priest is to go before it, either into the church, or to the grave.' These words certainly authorize the Clergyman to go towards the grave, while he repeats the sentences, and then to perform that part of the office which is appointed to be said when they come to the grave.' But the question is, whether this Rubric leaves the Minister at liberty to refuse going into the church at all? It is the opinion of some, that the Minister is invested with a discretionary power of omitting, whenever he pleases, those parts of the office which are to be read in the church. To this opinion I cannot subscribe.

"It must be admitted, I think, that the Clergyman is required to perform the entire office, since there is not the least intimation that any part of it may be dispensed with. To omit the Psalms and the Lesson, is to omit more than one half of the whole, which it is not pretended a Minister may do in any other instance. Hence I conclude, that the Minister may go first to the grave, and then to the church, or vice versa, as his discretion may direct; but he must perform the service to be used at the grave, and that to be said in the church, at the places where they are respectively appointed to be performed. That is, the Psalms and the Lesson may be said either before or after the burial of the corpse,' as it is expressly said in Edward's first book.

"To those who still think the Psalm

ture, matters of indifference; and so the Church has left them. Still the Psalms and the Lesson are so exceedingly proper for the occasion, that I presume few Clergymen would be disposed to omit them, even if they had, what in this instance they have not, a discretionary power.

"When the Rubrics were formed, there was a reason for the Minister's going to the grave in the first place, which does not exist at present. It was then in some places not uncommon to bury the poorer people without a coffin, the body being wrapped in some thick coarse cloathing. On such occasions there might be an obvious reason for not admitting the corpse to be brought into the church. And even at present, where the deceased may have died of the small pox, a malignant fever, or any other infectious disease, or when the body is putrid or otherwise offensive, the Minister, for the sake of those who attend the funeral, as well as on account of the congregation that may assemble on the same or the following day, would not, I conceive, exercise his discretion improperly, if he should go first to the grave and then into the Church." Yours, &c.

Mr. URBAN,

A. B.

Weston, April 15. HAVE lately received two hand

some subscriptions to the important object of the new Church in the Forest of Dean, by persons who derived their information from seeing the statement in the last volume of the Gentleman's Magazine. I was not aware of its insertion, or should have made you my acknowledgment at an earlier period. I rejoice to say, this

ther to observe, that to omit the service at the grave is as reasonable in itself, and exactly as agreeable to the regulations of our Church. Whatever argument can be brought to prove that the Minister may refuse to read the Service appointed to be used in the church, will equally prove that he may refuse to perform what he is directed to perform at the grave.

"Again, though it is not expressly stated in the Rubric, yet it is understood by the Church, and ought to be explained to the people, that the prayers and exhortations in the Burial Service are not for the benefit of the dead, but for the instruction and comfort of the living.' Whether the Psalms and Lesson be read before or after the interment; whether the corpse is or is not taken into the church, are, in their own na

that the Church is opened; but I have taken a fearful risk on myself, in finishing it at once, before the whole sum was raised: add to which, I must, if it be possible, build the parsonage-house this summer, that I may live on the spot next year. I am therefore obliged to use every exertion in my power to raise new supplies. If it were repeated, as an Advertisement, on the cover of your Magazine*, many persons might be induced to give, from seeing what has been done in so short a time.

A full list of all the Subscribers will now be lodged at the different Receiving-Houses. Yours, &c.

HENRY BERKIN.

*It will there be found. EDIT.

Mr.

Mr. URBAN,

THE

May 10.

HE following critical opinion of the newly published Letters of the late Mrs. Carter to Mrs. Montagu, having been given in a private Letter to his friend the Editor, appeared so just to the Gentleman to whom it was shewn, that it is at his request, out of respectto the learned, highly endowed, and admirable Authoress, sent for preservation in your pages, to which candour, kindness, and praise, are more acceptable than severity: and where, when the flippant criticisms which feed the petty malignities of the day are forgotten, the calm decisions of the unprejudiced censor will be looked for and found. S. E. B,

"My dear Friend,

"To the Rev. M.P. at Deal. Feb. 16. "I do not alter or abate in my opinion, that Mrs. Carter's Letters are models of epistolary excellence. In style there is all the strength of Johnson, without his pomp. In matter there is all his profundity and comprehension, without his prejudices. Her feelings are rather those of reflection than of impulse: and therefore rather excite esteem and admiration, than that love and kindness which the more melting pen of Miss Talbot draws forth as by a sort of intuitive charm; or than the flash of intellectual pleasure which is conveyed by the playful and ready wit of Mrs. Montagu.

In most moral questions I should be inclined to take Mrs. Carter as my guide. I have had many moral doubts, which had perplexed me, cleared up by her opinions: nor do I recollect any question she has touched upon, of those numerous nice difficulties in daily life of which the discussion is continually pressing itself on my mind, without having completely satisfied me by her reasoning.

With this impression on my mind, I told you most sincerely I thought it an imperious duty upon you to give the world the benefit of such precious and enlightening relics.

There is another characteristic excellence, which it strikes me that Mrs. Carter's Letters possess. They seem as it were to emanate from the judicial seat of wisdom: they are not ingenious pleadings, but calm and impartial decisions. Now it seems to me, that, in addition to the powers of reasoning, there is often a deep

natural sagacity wanted, to come to a wise moral decision: for it must in many cases be made up, in part, of ingredients which escape the grasp of language. This faculty, in addition to great reasoning powers, and great force and clearness of words, I think Mrs. Carter possessed.

Her industry assisted her with all the light of solid learning; and the calmness of her feelings (unlike this warm and unhappy frame of mine, in whose temperament the most vivid impressions melt away almost as rapidly as they are made) suffered her to retain in their original clearness the treasures with which her memory was stored.

Mrs. Montagu too often took up her pen to think what she should say: Mrs. Carter always to say no. more than she thought. Mrs. Montagu's fancy was certainly more brilliant; her imagery more copious; and her combinations more quick, unexpected, and surprising. Mrs. Carter's more deep, more pictu resque, and more just.

It is easy to conceive letters more calculated for temporary attraction than those of Mrs. Carter, which open no political discoveries; deal in no piquant satire; betray no private scandal; and gratify no private malice: which open no cabinets; and let not prurient curiosity behind the scenes of public, or private life.

That alone, which deals in such stimulants for the foul and palled appetite of the publick, is likely to be the great and noisy favourite of the day. But there is a slow and gradual fame, which is of a thousand times more value; the fame constituted of the voices of the good and wise, gently rising from wide and dispersed quarters, till they meet in one harmonious acclamation, high above the stir and clamour of grovelers and earthly-minded multitudes, inebriated with mean passions and the conceit of vulgar knowledge!"

decease, or point out the channel through which access might be obtained to a collection of letters addressed to him by different eminent persons of his time, which, according to Dr. Kippis, was in the possession of the Miss Arbuthnots? Yours, &c. AL. HENDERSON.

Mr. URBAN,

Winchester, April 14. Twho are in possession (and even O those of your Readers especially

to many who are not) of the "Memoirs of the late Wm. Stevens, esq. Treasurer of Queen Anne's Bounty,' dedicated to the Right Rev. Bishop Skinner, Aberdeen, by the Hon. Mr. Justice Park, it will be satisfactory to know, that, in consequence of the decease in the last year of that worthy Prelate, his friends have recently subscribed a few hundred pounds for the purpose of erecting a Statue to his memory in St. Andrew's Chapel in that city, over which congregation he presided so many years, as well as being Primate of the Scotch Episcopal Church, with so much credit to himself and advantage to that community. Mr. Flaxman, Royal Academician, and Professor of Sculpture, has undertaken the Work. AMICUS.

Narrative of a Remarkable Escape

from the Rebel Army in 1745. Toden Papers having recalled the HE recent publication of the Culattention of the publick to the subject of the Rebellion in 1745-6, after its being become nearly obsolete otherwise than as a portion of General History; and it having fallen to iny lot to be one of the very few now remaining who retain a pretty clear recollection, not only of the principal transactions, but also of many of the minor circumstances connected with that interesting event; I have been induced to look over some papers in my possession relating to it that had long lain unattended to. Among these a letter, giving an account of a remarkable escape from the Rebel army while at Derby, appeared to me to merit preservation; and I know of no repository so proper for that purpose as the Gentleman's Magazine, should the much-respected Editor be of the same opinion. I believe it may be safely said that the Narrative has never yet appeared in print, further than a few particulars of the

Occurrence being inserted, rather incorrectly, in a small volume printed in a cheap form at Carlisle in 1755, entitled, "A Compleat History of the Rebellion, from its first Rise in 1745, to its total suppression in April 1746. By James Ray, of Whitehaven, Volunteer under his Royal Highness the Duke of Cumberland;" a publication which, notwithstanding its homely garb and style, is not inferior, as a record of facts, to some of much higher pretensions.

The Writer of the Letter, which was probably addressed to his then late partner (who was very nearly related to me), but the directed cover has not been preserved, was well known as a very respectable wholesale linen draper in London. He retired from business rather early in life, by reason of delicate health; and, after waiting seve ral years, his reward for the hazards his loyalty had exposed him to, was a Receivership of the Land TaxI believe in Northumberland. The Letter not being written sooner after the transaction, was owing to the time it took him to recruit sufficiently to be able to form a connected Narrative, as well as to receive the attestations referred to in the concluding part of it. A FRIEND TO ACCURACY.

SIR, Manchester, Dec. 23, 1745. On Monday the 2nd day of December, 1745, about 6 o'clock in the evening, I left London and came post for Manchester, having received a letter that day from my father that the Rebels were there the Friday before. I came to Derby the next day, about 7 o'clock in the evening, where the Duke of Devonshire then was, to whom I immediately sent an account by Mr. William Johnson, a Captain in his newraised regiment, that three troops of the Duke of Kingston's light horse were that day come into Loughborough, and three more into Leicester.

About midnight the Duke of Devonshire, with the new-raised forces then at Derby, marched for Nottingham, having received intelligence of the Rebels being at Ashbourne; and the Marquis of Hartington's gentleman was ordered to wait in the road betwixt Ashbourne and Derby till be actually saw the Rebels.

About 10 o'clock on Wednesday he returned to Derby with an account that the Rebels were within a few miles of the town. He did not stay

to

their forced march from Leek to Derby in one day, I had no suspicion of their halting there, and concluded the town would be rid of them before my arrival. Therefore I set out with my old guide from Uttoxeter to Derby, about half an hour past four o'clock in the afternoon: it was past seven the same evening before I came to Derby. On my entrance into the town all seemed still, which confirmed me in my former belief, that the Rebels had left it. But I had not gone far before I was stopped and examined by their picquet guard, and, after a short examination, was, by a number of them, conveyed to the officer of the guard, who, after asking me a few questions, said I must go to his captain, who was likewise short in his examination of me, and said, that as I was a gentleman, the Prince (as he called him) would like to see me himself; so I and my guide were conducted to his lodgings at Lord Exeter's house, when, after about an hour's confinement in the guardhouse, I was called into a large parlour, where there were near 30 of their chiefs and superior officers, before whom I was examined by one Keys, who was called their deputy secretary. I persisted in the story I had told the officers by whom I had before been examined; and had not my guide, who was confined and examined in another room, discovered the chief thing I wanted to have concealed (I mean my being at Stafford, and at his Royal Highness's lodging) I might probably have been discharged. And indeed, if he had not been a very weak and cowardly felJow, the hints I had given him would have been a sufficient direction to him, and our examinations had been consistent, which I conclude they were not; for, after 1 had been examined in the parlour, I was ordered up into Keys's lodging-room, where 1 passed under a further and more strict examination. I was then immediately threatened with a halter, and used in such a manner as gave me a lively specimen of what might be expected from such wretches if in power; and awakened in me dismal apprehensions of the danger I was in. After they had tired themselves, I was ordered into their colonel's guardroom, which was a chamber in Lord Exeter's house looking into the garden,

where I was kept, and continued under a strong guard until about seven o'clock the next morning, at which time there appeared an extraordinary hurry and bustle amongst my guard, who talked much of their Prince being got up; and one quitted the room after another, till at last I was left alone, and then I began to think of making my escape. The first thing I did in order to it was to try whether I could open the sashesone I found was nailed, the other [ opened the shutter of, and raised the lower sash a little, but was interrupted by a person, coming into the room, who, proving none of my guard, seemed to take little notice of me, and went out again; upon which I bolted the door on the inside, and made shift to get off my boots, and immediately after flung myself out of the window, under which was a gravel walk in Lord Exeter's garden: the height of the window from the walk was (as has been since computed) above seven yards. I was pretty much stunned with the fall, but soon recovered myself, and ran down the garden, which at the bottom is bounded by the River Darwent, and inclosed by high brick walls on each side, at the end of which, to the water, long iron spikes were driven, to prevent, as I apprehend, the communication betwixt that and the ad joining gardens. Notwithstanding which I got into the next garden without receiving any hurt, and afterwards ran across two more gardens, aud passed, I know not how, all the fences till I came to Mr. Heathcote's, which I found to be a light brick wall. Upon laying hold of it at the lower end, part of the wall fell, and forced me into the river, which in that part is several yards deep: it was with great difficulty I got out of the water into Mr. Heathcote's garden, where I concealed myself for a short time in a garden-house. When I made my escape out of the guard-room I had no hat with me, and my peruke being lost, and my clothes wet, I found myself very cold; which if I could have borne, I thought my situation far from safe, and therefore deter mined upon stripping off all my clothes, leaving them in the gardenhouse, and swimming down the river, which I accordingly did for the space of about 50 yards, till I came to the

wear,