thought she carried her argument with regard to the birth rights and privileges of her sex, a little too far. In this treatise she discovered too much warmth, but the motive was, her having been disappointed in a marriage contract, with an eminent clergy man. Finding that this composition did not give general satisfaction, she published a second edition with a long preface. She always endeavoured to conceal her name, but her writings would not suffer her to remain in obscurity. She soon acquired a complete knowledge of all the classic authors. Though she had many antagonists, she had abilities enough to confute them. She was easy and affable to all, but exceedingly severe to herself, as she constantly observed the most rigid abstinence. would live like a hermit for a considerable time, upon a crust of bread and water, with a little small beer. And at her highest time of living (when she was at home) she would rarely eat any dinner till night, and then it was with the strictest rules of temperance. She seemed to enjoy an uninterrupted state of health, all within a few years of her death; when having had one of her breasts cut off, it so much impaired her constitution that she did not long survive it This was for a cancer which she had concealed with so much secrecy that not even her most intimate friends knew any thing of it. She always dressed and managed it herseif, but finding amputation. She was absolutely necessary, she went to a surgeon with only one attendant, and requested him to cut it off in the most private manner. She would hardly suffer him to have those persons in the room who were necessary to as sist him in the opperation. She would not have her arms bound, but submitted to the knife with un, common resolution—without even a struggle or a groan She died May 11, 1731 and was buried. at Chelsea. SARAH JENNINGS. FROM THE GLEANER, From the Desk of Poor Robert the Scribe. Honesty is the best Policy." Be honest and 'tis clear as light, You'll make by far most money by't. The profits that are got by cheating, Are very few and very Beeting. Experience proves the adage true; Then never lose it from your view. WHEN I was a little fellow, just old enough to be mischievous, I was beset by a parcel of my companions to go and pilfer the parson's pears. Down by the side of the brook that hows out of Appleberry pond, back of the parson's house, was a beautiful medow, in the midst of which stood the peartree. It was large-hung full, and they were of a most delicious flavour. Whether I was afraid of a flogg ing-whether respect for the parson (for in those days childrea of Tripoli. On this fatal night, he and Mr. John. Lynch were in the same box with Mrs. Gallego, Miss Conyers, Mr. Venable and others -when the alarm was first given, they endeavoured to quiet the apprehensions of the ladies, but when the front scene was in flames, they reached over for Miss Conyers who had sunk motionless below-they took her over; they held aer between them, in a state of insensibility; her head falling over Mr. Lynch's left arm. In this manner they proceeded towards the head of the stairs, when Gibbon said Lynch, leave Sally to me, I am strong enough to carry her; she is light and you can save somebody else.' Mr. L. replied. God bless you, Gibbon, -but Mrs. Patterson and Mr. Williaan Brown were overwhelmed by the crowd. Let us change the scene. It is a far more grateful task to describe the fate of those who have, as it were, miraculously escaped. It is some relief to our feelings, to contemplate those who seem again to have re-visited the realms of light.' It is almost as if the grave had given them up a• We are sorgain from its jaws. ry, indeed, that our limits do not permit us to give any but hasty snatches and sketches of events. Mr. John G. Jackson was overcome by the suffocating smoke, and fell senseless. His last recollection was that his feet were there is the stairs.' and then turn-descending; but whether the floor ed round to seek some of the other ladies. Poor Gibbon and his lovely and interesting companion, sunk together. We must drop this recital.-.We have already stated the deaths of Mrs. Gerardin and her sweet boy -of Mrs. Gibson, whose husband is perhaps now on his way from Europe; what a blow upon his heart!--of the venerable Mrs. Page; of Mrs. Leslie; of the lovely Nancy Green, the daughter of Mr. Green, the Manager; of the amiable Mrs. Robert Greenhow. The particulars of most of their faces are wrapt in oblivion, their ashes are in the grave. or stairway were broken, or he had reached the descent, he was not conscious-but insensibly he descended to the level of the pit, where a strong current of fresh air revived him as he lay amongst a heap of prostrate persons. He struggled to rise and found himself on his feet, with a lady clinging to him, and beseeching him to save her. With difficulty he found the door, not beeing acquainted with the house, but at last he emerged with the lady, when the fire was pouring through the front windows, and ere they had advanced far the roof tumbled in. Mr. M. W. Hancock carried with him to the play, his niece, These perished amid the flames the two Miss Herons, and three boys. When the alarm was given, || him, have all escaped with their he did all in his power to save his proteges but was at last separated from them all. The flames were approaching with a degree of fury and rapidity, that was perhaps never exceeded. Hitherto the scene had been all bustle, confusion and consternation ; it now changed to one of awful horror and esperation that beggars all descrip He attempted to reach the, entre window in the lobby of therer boxes. He at last suc ceeded mounting on the heads of the crowd betwixt him and the window, and finally reached it, surrounded by the unavailing and afflicting crics of those suffocating around him. He stepped within the window and with difficulty raised the lower sash-he thrust his feet out, when the sash was suddenly pressed down,and caught his feet betwixt it and the side. He extricated one foot, but could not the other, until those behind him who had sufficient strength to mount over him and the lower sash which kept him down, did so. -He found himself so far gone from suffocation that he gave himself up as lost-the flames however rushed over his head, and the introduction of fresh air at the bottom of the window gave him new life. Those behind him being no longer able to keep him down, he with a last effort raised the sash, extricated his foot and jumped out. It gives us sincere pleasure to add that the three boys and girls, whom he carried with lives. Mr. John Lynch was the only person who passed the window after Mr. Hancock. After he had left poor Gibbon, he met with a variety of horrid adventures. All was utter darkness in the lobby, and suffocation threatened. It was an awful crisis--and but that one of the windows was burst open, and let in fresh air, he thinks all in the lobby must have perished; at length he reached the window, where he found a gentleman fixed fast, whom he since believes to, have been Mr. Hancock. After an awful lapse, the flames were rushing on in all directions, his hair caught fire, hope deserted him; he was struck with horror at the idea of being burned alive. He rushed towards the window, waving his hands as quick as possible, over his head and clothes. was a dreadful moment; he saw many drop down on each side of him suffocated-the window was now free, and he was scarcely on the bottom of it, when he heard an awful crash behind him.-He threw himself out, and Providence preserved him. This Mr. Robert Greenhow precipitated himself down the stairs over fire-brands and bodies, with his fine son in his arms-and was sayed. Mr. Head Lynch made a wonderful escape with his child. His ady was saved by a strong man's all things, a mutual passionwould to God it may be so! you are worthy of each other, and may your first love be less fatal than mine. Let her, however, continue in ignorance of her brother's guilt. poison her happiness; I have ape. pointed you executor of my will, and her guardian. I know none in whose honor and virtue I can so well repose a trust so sacred. I owe this confidence to you in gratitude-it is the best security for the future happiness of my niece." (To be Conitnued.), From the Richmond Enquirer. and splendor of his title. I was abroad in the service of my country, when the accounts of his death were received, To me he bequeathed one half of his fortune which I accepted of, only to make over to Diego. The other moie-The knowledge of his vices will ty was settled upon the convent of St. Clare, in which his daughter was destined to take the veil. Happily for my nicce, her father should commit a pious mistake as it regards this last bequeath. In the will I am, appointed trustee, reserving to me power to nominate my successor; with a clause that nothing but the interest shall be the revenue to the convent until Violenta shall consent to take the veil. My reverend brother, a dupe to his own avarice, had no doubt that his daughter would prefer pious splendor to starvation; never contemplating that, as trustee and with no excessive generosity, I should not only exert my influence against such a determination, on the part of Violenta, but offer to her an assylum in my family. The abbess has long been ineffectually, struggled to draw from her the hateful vow. But the aversion. of Violenta to a monastic life is un-. conquerable, and my chief hope to release her from confinement is. a compromise with the convent. Possessed of my fortune, she can well dispense with her own. Hasten to her Alfonso at my death, NARRATIVE. We cannot paint the details of the scene of Thursday night--No. description can do justice to itshorrors-and there were so few per.. sons so cool and self-collected as to accurately paint any part of the mass of woes which fell in a moment upon us. Some scenes are so wraught with horror that a delicate pencil would have to skip them-Besides, time enough has not been had to bring together an. accurate group of woes, It is painful to touch upon the catastrophy of those who have gone forever, Their ashes are in the comfort, her in distress, and pre-grave-but their memories are pare her for the new scene she is about to engage in. She has entombed in our hearts. The generous and worthy Smith, who but charms to captivate: I wish above a few days since was crowned with one of the highest honors which Virginia can bestow, is snatched from his country, his distracted family, his children and his friends!! It is not certainly known whether he had effected his escape from the building and rushed again into the flames to save his child! There is a confusion in the story, and perhaps it is as well if it never were cleared up. haled at the windows on even at a Poor Botts! a man of astonish ing assidui y and attainments at the bar, has perished with his wife. and her neice-he fell perhaps a victim to his hopes. He thought it more prudent to sit still with his wife while the crowd passed by; but her sister-in-law Mrs. Page, yielding to the sympathetic imAbraham B. Venable, the Prespulse of her fears, rushed forward ident of the Bank of Virginia; aand is saved-What a seal has man who has filled our public sta-death setupon his family! At one tions with very high reputę; who fell swoop, five helpless children has been in the H. of R. and inconverted into Orphans. the Senate of the U. S. during the most interesting periods-he too is gone! He has left no wife or children: but a long train of relatives and friends to weep his loss. He was in the box with ladies; he begged them not to be precipitate or impatient; but was at length driven towards a window in the lobby with a crowd ofothers. The suffecating smoke came rolling on. Mr. V. and others who were with him were thrown down. Mr. NoInd fell towards the window and was saved; Mr. V. fell the other way and perished in the smoke! Many doubtless perished in the same way. The volume of smoke, which could not at first escape through the roof. was bent down. wards; black, dense, almost saturated with oily vapours. Many were suffocated by it, who might have had strength enough to leap the windows. Several were sav How heavily has the hand of death fallen upon the family of the Harvies! Poor mourners, deeply indeed have ye drank of the cup of affliction. Within five short years we have numbered among the dead the venerable John Harvie, the distinguished Lewis Harvic, the amiable Mrs. M'Craw, the interesting little boy of Dr. Brockenbrough. But by one blow the distressed mother, Mis. Harvic, has lost her noble and highsouled daughter, Juliana, her excellent son E. J. Harvie, and that sweet little girl, Mary Whitlock, her beloved Grand daughter!!! Reader, conceive if you can what you never can have felt. Licut. James Gibbon, of the U. S. Navy, has gone with the rest! Young as he was, he had tasted of the cup of affliction. He was taken captive in the Philadel ed by the fresh air which they in-phia, and immured in the prisons |