SELECTED

For the Lady's Miscellany.

THE BIOGRAPHY OF

JOHN ELWES, ESQ.

f

obstacles to their union, in the dy-
ing engagement of her parents,
and the obligations to her family
and to honor, which the Marshal,
he uncle, had been just enforcing.
--- Alas! Prince,' said she, 'I
must give my hand to another;'
but my heart is sull'-Go then,
said the furious Prince; let that
heart instantly follow the present
of the hand-I-I will shew youHarvy Elwes, whose possessions at
what it is to love.'--Then seizing
his sword, he was going to plunge
it into his heart, notwithstanding
all the cries and efforts of the ter-
rified Alicia, when, in that instant,

This gentleman, whose original name was Meggot, was born in 1712, and was the nephew of Sir

the time of his death was suppos-
ed to be at least two hundred and
fifty thovsand pounds. His father
was an eminent brewer, in South-
wark, which borough his grandfa-

he heard an unexpected voice:ther, Sir George Meggot, repre-
Stop, stop, I come to recall you
to life.'--7'he Prince beheld Tan-
guy. Ah! my brother,' said he,

you

love me--and would you wish me to live? Do you know the horrors that surround me ?-I know all ; I know that the Marsha]

sented in parliament. At the de-
cease of the uncle, this large sum
of money became the property of
the nephew, who by will was re-
quired to assume the name and
arms of Elwes. When he suc
ceeded to his uncle's fortune, he

has secured the duke in his inter-had advanced beyond his fortieth

to

est. But the Constable, your un-
year, and for fifteen years previous
to that period he was known in the
cle, has sent for you. He has had
more fashionable circles of the
a long conversation with the Duke,
and I doubt not was successful.' metropolis. He had always a pro-
My brother! Is it possible? Shall pensity for play, and it was late in
Alicia yat be mine? And you,
life that he glow digusted at the
Madam--you weep-divine mis- practice. 7his arose from his
tress of my heart, forgive-forgive paying always, and not being al-
me if I have appeared to doubt ways paid. At an early period he
was sent to Westminster school,
your love. Ah! Prince," said
Mademoiselle de Dinan, how
where he remained ten or twelve
cruel have you been! But go--years, and was allowed to be a good
claim the protection of the Count classical schoolar, though it is con-
of Richmond. Let him gain the
Duke-let him prevail upon my
uncle--and you will see whether
Alicia can love.

(To be Continued.)

fidentially said that he never read afterwards. From Westminster school, Mr. Elwes removed to Geneva, where he soon entered inte pursuits more agreeable to

ter

beer

Me

be

200

OW

with the most fashionable & profligate men of the age,he would quit the splendid scene,& walk out about

meet his own cattle which were
coming to market from Hayden
Hall,a farm of his in Essex. There
would this same man throw aside
his habits of dissipation, &,standing
in the cod or rain, haggle with a
carcass butcher for a shilling.-
When his cattle did not arrive at
the expected hour, he would walk
on in the mire to meet them; and
more than once he has travelled
on foot the whole way to his farm,
without stopping, which was se-
venteen miles from London, after
sitting up the whole of the night.
Mr. Elwes generally travelled on
borseback, having first taken care
to put two or three eggs boiled
hard into his great coat pocket, or
any scraps of bread he could find;
then, mounting one, of his hunters
he made the best of his way out
of London, into that road where
turnpikes werethe least numerous.
Next stopping under any hedge,
where he saw grass for his horse,
and a little water for himself, he
would sit down and refresh himself
and his animal. From his seat at
Marcham, in Berkshire, he went

him than study. The riding mas ter of the academy, there, had been to boast, perhaps, three of the best riders in Europe; Mr. Wors-four in the morning to Smithfield,to ley, Mr. Elwes, and Sir Sidney Meadows. The connexions which he formed at Westminster school, and at Geneva, together with his own large fortune, all conspired to introduce Mr. Elwes (then Mr. Meggot) into whatever society he chose. He was admitted a mem ber of the club at Arthur's, and many other fashionable haunts of the day. Few men, even from his own acknowledgment, played deeper than himself, and with such various success; he once continued to play two days & a night without intermission; and the room being a small one, the party were nearly up to their knees in cards. The late duke of Northumberland, who was no starter upon these occasions was of the party. Had Mr. Elwes received all he won, he would have been much richer; but the sums which were owing to him, even by very noble names were not liquidated. On this account he, was a very great loser by play; the theory which he professed, that it was impossible to ask a gentleman for money,' he perfectly performed by the practice, and he never vio. lated this feeling to the latest hour of his life. It is curious to remark that, even at this period of Mr. Elwes' life, how he contrived to mingle small attempts at saving, with objects of the most unbound. ed dissipation. After sitting up a whole night at play for thousands,

to reside at the mansion house of his late uncle, at Stoke, in Suffolk. Here he first began to keep foxhounds; and his stable of hunters, at that time, was said to be the best in the kingdom. This was the only instance, in his whole life. of his sacrificing money to pleasure. but even hereevery thing was con

do as I do,' offering at the same time, from his great coat pocket, a piece of old crushed pancake, which he had brought from Marcham two months before but, 'that it was good as new. As Mr. Elwes knew little of accounts, and never reduced his affairs to writing! he was obliged, in the disposal of his money, to trust much to his mem

ducted with the utmost parsimony. Mr. Elwes bad an equal aversion to an inn on the road, & an apochecary's bill; therefore, when he once received a dangerous kick from one of his horses, nothing could prevail on him to have any assistance. He rode the chase through, with his leg cut to the bone; and it was not till some days afterwards, when it was fear-ory, and still more to the sugges ed amputation would be necessary tions of other people. Hence he that he consented to repair to supplied every person who had a London, and part with a few guin- want or scheme, with an apparent eas for advice. Though he made high interest, whether, the profrequent excursions to Newmarket jector was knavish or honest. Hence he never engaged on the turf. A are to be reckoned visions of eliskindness, however, which he pertant propesty in America, phanformed there merits notice. Lord toms of annuities on lives that Abingdon, who was slightly known could never pay, &c. by which he to Mr. Elwes in Berkshire, had is supposed, in the course of his made a match for 70001. which it life, to have lost about 150,0001. was susposed he would be obliged Mr. Elwes, from his father, Mr. to forfei, from an inability to pro. Maggot, had inherited some produce the sum, through the odds perty in houses in London: To were greatly in his favour. Mr. this property he added greatly by Elwes, unsolicited, made him an building. Great part of Marybone offer of the money, which he acsoon called him her funder. cepted and won the engagement. Portland place,and Portland square, On the day this match was to be the riding houses and stables of the run, a clergyman had agreed to Life Guarde, and houses too nutaccompany Mr. Elwes to see the merous to be mentioned, all rose fate of it. Imagining they were out of his pocket. I had resided to breakfast at Newmarket, the about thirteen years in Suffolk, gentleman took no refreshment. when, on the dissolution of parAfter the bet was decided, Mr. liament, he was chosen for BerkElwes still continued to ride about shire, having been proposed by till the hour of four, at which time Lord Craven. He did not object his reverence grew so impatient to the nomination, as he was to that he mentioned something of be brought in for nothing. All his the keen air of Newmarket heath, expense consisted in dining at the and the comforts of a good dinner. ordinary at Reading, and he got Very true,' r pl od Elwes, 'sobere li into parliament for about eighteen,

pence. He now returned to his seat at Marcham, relinquished his hounds, and distributed them among some farmers. He was approaching the sixtieth year of his age when he thus entered upon public life. In three successive parliaments he was chosen for Berkshire, and sat about twelve years in the house. To his honor be it said, that in every vote he proved himself an independent country gentleman,wishing neither post nor rank, wanting no emolument, and being perfectly conscientions. When Mr. Elwes quitted parliament, he was, in the familiar phrase, a fish out of water.'

·

He

desire of saving was become un i form and systematic. He still rodeabout the country on an old brood mare, but he rode her very economically on the turf adjoining the road, without putting himself to the expense of shoes. In the advance of the season, his morning: employment was to pick up chips, sticks, or bones, and put them in, his pocket to carry to the fire. During the harvest he would amuse himself with going into the fields to glean the corn on the grounds of his own tenants. When he had his river drawn, though sometimes horse loads of small fish were taken, not one would he suffer to be thrown in again. Game, in the last state of putrefaction would he continue to eat. In short, whatever Cervantes or Molier have pictu ed, in their most sportive moods of avarice in the extreme was realized or surpassed by Elwes, though then supposed to be possessed of about a million. The 18th of November, 1789 clos ed the life of, this extraordinary who left by will (of property, and estates not entailed,) the sum of 500,000l. to his two natural sons, George and John Elwes.

man,

had for some years been a mem ber of a card club, at the Mound coffee house, and, by a constant attendance on this meeting, he consoled himself for the loss of his seat. The play was moderate and he enjoyed the fire and candle at a general expense. Still, however, he retained some fondness for play, and he imagined that he had a thorough knowledge of picquet. It was his misfortune to meet with a gentleman who thought the same of himself, und on much better grounds; for after a contest of two days and a night, Mr. Elwes rose the loser of three thousand pounds, which was paid by a draft on Messrs. Hoares. This was the last folly of the kind that he was guiity of. At length he retired tony,; I am remarkably dull and stu his seat at Stoke, where no gleam | pid.'- You are much to be pitied of favourite passion, or any lay of amusement, broke through the gloom of penury. His insiatiable

DANGER IN COMPLAINING.

WHEN I have a cold in my· head,' said a gentleman in compa

then, sir,' replied another, for I don't remember ever to have seen: you without a cold in your head.”

For the Lady's Miscellany.

Mr. Editor

Should the following extract (from Campbells Narrative) be deemed worthy the columns of your admired Miscellany it is offered for insertion by

T. L. S.

Description of the ceremony of the Gentoo Women burning themselves with the bo

dies of their Hus

bands.

ing some upright stakes into the ground and then built up the middle to about the height of three feet and an half with billets of wood The dead husband, who, from his appearance, seemed to be about sixty years of age, was lying close by, stretched out on a bier, made of Bamboo canes. Four Bramins walked in procession three times round the dead body, first in a direction contrary to the sun and afterwards other three times in a di

This day, I went to see a Gen-rection with the sun, all the while

too woman resign herself to be burned along with the corps of her deceased husband, The place fixed upon for this tragic scene, was a small islet on the bank of one of the branches of the river cavery, about a mile to the Northward of the fort of Janjore. When I came to the spot, I found the victim, who appeared to be not above sixteen,sitting on the ground dressed in the Gentoo manner, with a white cloth wrapped round her, some white flowers like Jessamins hanging round her neck, and some of them hanging from her hair. There were about twenty women sitting on their hams round her, holding a white handkerchief, extended horizontally over her head to shade her from the sun which was excessively hot, it being then about noon. At about 20 yards from where she was sitting, and facing her there were several Bramins busy in constructing a pile with billets of firewood: the pile was about eight feet long and four broad.

muttering incantations; and at each round or circuit they made, they untwisted, and immediately again twisted up the small long lock of hair which is left unshaven at the back of their heads. Some other Bramins were in the mean time employed in sprinkling water out of a green leaf rolled up like a cup, upon a small heap of cakes of dry sowdung, with which the pile was afterwards to be set on fire, an old Bramin sat at the North-east corner of the pile upon his hams with a pair of spectacles on, read||ing, I suppose, the shaster, or their scriptures, from a book composed of cajan leaves. Having been present now nearly an hour, I enquired when they meant to set the pile on fire: they answered in about two hours. As this spectacle was most melancholy, and naturally struck me with horror, and as I had only gone there to assure myself of the truth of such sacrifices being made, I went away towards the fort after I was gone about

They first began by driv-five hundred yards they sent some