ing in in the meantime, took hold of him, and bade him hold his tongue and confess no more; for if he died for it, he should hang nobody else.

Moses Drayne having confessed that Betty, the eldest daughter, had a share in the murder, and Mary Kendall having sworn at the trial that the two sisters were not in bed that night the murder was committed, Mrs. Kidderminster moved the coroner to procure a warrant from a justice of the peace to apprehend the two sisters; which being done, they were bound over to appear at the next assizes. When the assizes came, both the daughters appeared, and a bill of indictment was preferred against them to the grand jury before whom Mary Kendall gave the same evidence that she had done before at the trial of Moses Drayne, and there was also what he had said in the prison. But the grand jury thinking the proof not sufficient to find the bill, returned an ignoramus, and the two sisters were discharged by proclamation.

THE POET SAVAGE.

Transformed by thoughtless rage and midnight wine,
From malice free, and pushed without design

In equal brawl, if Savage lung'd a thrust,

And brought the youth a victim to the dust,

So strong the hand of accident appears,

The royal grace from guilt and vengeance clears.
Old Magazine.

THE sad history of the poet Savage, the victim of his mother's unnatural and untiring malignity, is now a matter of general notoriety, since the eloquent pen of Dr. Johnson has immortalized his sufferings and her shame. This case of cruelty, it was to be hoped, had no parallel, but unfortunately the present age affords another similar example of a parent dooming his son, also a man of genius, to continual misery and distress, whilst this parent going still further, leaves his whole princely fortune to the British nation. The son, in this latter instance, if like Savage in some of his failings, resembles him also in his talents and his literary reputation. He has, however, this more melancholy fact to add to his story-the country which has taken the father's money, allows the son to perish neglected and penniless. When the last act of such a tragedy, now verging to its conclusion, is accomplished, it will hang heavily on the honor and the memory of England. But to return to Savage.

The object here being merely to give that part of Savage's

career which relates to his trial for murder, reference need only be made to Dr. Johnson's life for all the other strange and deeply interesting matter about him. Suffice it now to say that Richard Savage, the poet, was the son of Anne,* the wife of Charles Gerard, Second Earl of Macclesfield, who herself rendered the child illegitimate, and obtained the divorce she wanted, by proclaiming her own infamy, and declaring its real father to be Richard Savage, Earl of Rivers. Through her machinations this son was, from his birth, cast into obscurity and brought up in misery. The whole subsequent existence of Savage was a struggle between the undeniable genius that would have elevated him to happiness as it did to fame, and the unceasing persecution of his mother that abased and degraded him. Under this unnatural oppression the firm mind of the poet would now and then sink utterly down, until, fortunately for posterity, his inherent buoyancy brought it into vivid and beautiful vitality again. Despondency, drink and dissipation, too often the fatal tempters of men of genius, would, for a time, take complete possession of poor Richard Savage. It was in one of those melancholyperiods that befel him the misfortune which, as asserted by Dr. Johnson and the other reporters handed down to us, follows:

is as

On the 20th of November, 1727, Mr. Savage came from Richmond, where he then lodged, that he might pursue his studies with less interruption, with an intent to discharge another lodging which he had in Westminster; and accidentally meeting two gentlemen, his acquaintances, whose names were Merchant and Gregory, he went in with them to a neigh

* Anne, Countess of Macclesfield, was daughter of Sir Richard Mason, Kt of Shropshire.

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boring coffee-house, and sat drinking till it was late; it being in no time of Mr. Savage's life any part of his character to be the first of the company that desired to separate. He would willingly have gone to bed in the same house; but there was not room for the whole company, and therefore they agreed to ramble about the streets, and divert themselves with such amusements as should offer themselves, till morning.

In this walk they happened unluckily to discover a light in Robinson's coffee-house, near Charing Cross, and therefore went in. Merchant with some rudeness demanded a room, and was told that there was a good fire in the next parlor, which the company were about to leave, being then paying their reckoning. Merchant, not satisfied with this answer, rushed into the room, and was followed by his companions. He then petulantly placed himself between the company and the fire, and soon after kicked down the table. This produced a quarrel, swords were drawn on both sides, and one, Mr. James Sinclair, was killed. Savage, having wounded likewise a maid that held him, forced his way with Merchant out of the house; but being intimidated and confused, without resolution either to fly or stay, they were taken in a back court by one of the company, and some soldiers, whom he had called to his assistance.

Being secured and guarded that night, they were in the morning carried before three justices, who committed them to the gatehouse, from whence, upon the death of Mr. Sinclair, which happened the same day, they were removed in the night to Newgate, where they were, however, treated with some distinction, exempted from the ignominy of chains, and confined, not among the common criminals, but in the press-yard. The trial came on at the Old Bailey, on the 7th December,

1727, before Sir Francis Page, a judge of the Court of King's Bench.

Richard Savage, James Gregory, and William Merchant, were indicted for the murder of James Sinclair : Savage, by giving him, with a drawn sword, one mortal wound in the lower part of the body, of the length of half an inch, and the depth of nine inches, on the 20th of November, 1727, of which mortal wound he languished till the next day, and then died; and Gregory and Merchant by being present, aiding, abetting, comforting, and maintaining the said Savage, in committing the said murder.

At the request of the prisoners, the witnesses were examined apart. Their evidence was this:

Mr. Nuttal.-On Monday, the 20th of November last, about eleven at night, the deceased and Lemery, his brother, and I, went to Robinson's coffee-house, near Charing Cross, where we stayed till one or two in the morning. We had drunk two three-shilling bowls of punch, and were just concluding to go, when the prisoners came into the room. Merchant entered first, and, turning his back to the fire, he kicked down our table without any provocation. "What do you mean?" said I; and "What do you mean?" said Gregory. Presently Savage drew his sword, and we retreated to the further end of the room. Gregory drawing too, I desired

them to put up their swords, but they refused. I did not see the deceased draw, but Gregory turning to him, said, “ Villain, deliver your sword; and soon after he took the sword from the deceased. Gregory's sword was broken in the scuffle; but, with the deceased's sword and part of his own, he came and demanded mine; and I refusing to deliver it, he made a thrust at me. I defended myself. He endeavored to get my