many things of the like nature, which some in the world are fond of.

JOHN SECCOMB.

JOHN SECCOMB, a descendant of Richard Seccomb, who settled in the town of Lynn, was a son of Peter Seccomb, of Medford, Mass., where he was born in April, 1708. He was graduated at Harvard College, in 1728. In 1733 he was ordained minister of the town of Harvard. He appears to have discharged the duties of his office acceptably up to the period of his resignation in 1757. He became, about six years after, the minister of a dissenting congregation in Chester, Nova Scotia, where he remained until his death in 1792.

It

He published an Ordination Sermon in Nova Scotia, and a Discourse on the Funeral of the Consort of Jonathan Belcher.* Father Abbey's Will was sent out to England by Governor Belcher, and published both in the Gentleman's Magazine and European Magazines in May, 1732. was reprinted in the Massachusetts Magazine for November, 1794, with a notice attributing the authorship to John Seccomb. A correspondent having disputed the statement, and asserted that the production belonged to the Rev. Joseph Seccomb, of Kingston, N. H., the editor of the Magazine wrote as follows.

From Thaddeus Mason, Esq., of Cambridge, the only surviving classmate and very intimate friend of the Rev. John Seccombe, the public may be assured the he, the long reputed, was the real author. His brother Joseph, though a lively genius, never pretended to write poetry; but Mr. Mason was furnished with several poetical effusions of his classmate's. They commenced an early correspondence. And through this channel flowed many a tuneful ditty. One of these letters, dated Cambridge, Sep. 27, 1728," the editor has before him. It is a most humorous narrative of the fate of a goose roasted at "Yankee Hastings," and it concludes with a poem on the occasion, in the mock heroic. * * * Mr. Mason wonders there have been any doubts respecting the real author of this witty production. He is able and ready, were it necessary, to give more circumstantial, explicit, and positive evidence than the present writing.

The editor of a recent reprint of Father Abbey's Will, though unable to trace the "mock heroic," gives us a pleasant account of the possible previous history of its savory subject.

We know not what has become of the letter or of the "mock heroic," and we cannot speak with certainty of the circumstances to which they owed their origin. But the following facts may shed some light thereon. The author resided in Cambridge after he graduated. In common with all who had received the degree of Bachelor of Arts, and not that of Master of Arts, he was called "Sir," and known as "Sir Seccomb." In the autumn after

*A Sermon preached at Halifax, July 8, 1770, at the Ordination of the Rev. Bruin Romcas Comingoe, to the Dutch Calvinistic Presbyterian Congregation, at Lunenburg, by John Seccomb, of Chester, A.M., being the first preached in the province of Nova Scotia, on such an occasion, to which is added an Appendix. Halifax: A. Henry. 1770. A Sermon occasioned by the Death of the Honorable Abigail Belcher, late consort of Jonathan Belcher, Esq., late Lt. Gov. and Com. in Chief, and His Majesty's present Ch. J. of his province of Nova Scotia, del. at Halifax, in the said province, Oct. 20, 1771, by John Seccomb, of Chester, A.M., with an Epistle by Mather Byles, D.D. Boston: T. & J. Fleet.

his graduation, several geese disappeared at different times from Cambridge Common. The loss occasioned great discomfort to the owner. Some of the "Sirs," as well as undergraduates were arraigned before the college government. At length several of them were fined seven shillings apiece for being privy to and taking the third" goose, and one of them was fined three shillings more for "lying" about it. On the morning of Nov. 28, 1728, the sentence was announced. This was done in the college hall, after the reading and before the prayer, and a suitable amount of admonition was given against the immoralities condemned. The rogues were required to indemnify the owner, and the one who first proposed to steal the first goose, and being concerned in stealing and eating the "three geese taken on the Common," was sent from college. How much this had to do with the inspiration of the letter and the "mock heroic" is not known; but the writer was a "Sir," and without doubt was well acquainted with the facts

in the case.

Father Abbey was Matthew Abdy. He was born about 1650, the son of a fisherman who lived about Boston harbor, and, according to the record in President Leverett's Diary, was "appointed sweeper and bed-maker upon probation,' Feb. 19, 1718. By another College authority we find that he also held the responsible office of bottle-washer, as Tutor Flint in his private Diary and Account-book, writes:

May 25, 1725, Paid Abdy 3sh., for washing a groce of Bottles.

A second entry on the subject suggests some doubts of his faithfulness:

April 10th, 1727. Abdy washed 10 doz. and 5 bottles as he says, tho' w'n he brought them up he reckoned but 9 doz. and 1, at 4d. pd down. Total, 3sh. 8d.

In the third and last, there is no question raised:

April 27, 1730. Paid Abdy 4sh., for washing a groce of bottles.

Abdy, and his wife Ruth, were baptized and admitted to church membership in Cambridge, February 25, 1727-8. Ruth, after the death of Matthew, remained a widow, unmoved by the passionate strains of Seccomb's second poem. The Boston Evening Post of Monday, December 13, 1762, contains her obituary.

Cambridge, Dec. 10. Yesterday died here in a very advanced age Mrs. Abdy, Sweeper for very many years at Harvard College, and well known to all that have had an education here within the present century. She was relict of Matthew Abdy, Sweeper, well known to the learned world by his last Will and Testament.

The Cambridge City Records give her age as 93.

Father Abbey's Will and the Letter to his Widow have been published in a single sheet broadside, and have been recently reprinted with notice of all the persons and places concerned in the matters which partake largely of the wit of their subject, by John Langdon Sibley, of Harvard, in the Cambridge Chronicle of 1854.

FATHER ABBEY'S WILL⚫

To which is now added, a letter of Courtship to his virtuous and amiable Widow.

Cambridge, December, 1730. Some time since died here, Mr. Matthew Abbey, in a very advanced age: He had for a great number

of years served the College in quality of Bedmaker and Sweeper: Having no child, his wife inherits his whole estate, which he bequeathed to her by his last will and testament, as follows, viz.:

To my dear wife

My joy and life,
I freely now do give her,
My whole estate,
With all my plate,

Being just about to leave her.

My tub of soap,
A long cart rope,
A frying pan and kettle,
An ashes pale,

A threshing flail,

An iron wedge and beetle.

Two painted chairs,
Nine warden pears,

A large old dripping platter,
This bed of hay,
On which I lay,

An old saucepan for butter.

A little mug,
A two quart jug,
A bottle full of brandy,
A looking glass
To see your face,
You'll find it very handy.

A musket true,
As ever flew,

A pound of shot and wallet,
A leather sash,

My calabash,

My powder horn and bullet.

An old sword blade,
A garden spade,

A hoe, a rake, a ladder,
A wooden can,
A close-stool pan,

A clyster-pipe and bladder.

A greasy hat,
My old ram cat,
A yard and half of linen,
A woollen fleece,
A pot of grease,

In order for your spinning.

A small tooth comb, An ashen broom, A candlestick and hatchet, A coverlid,

Strip'd down with red,

A bag of rags to patch it.

A ragged mat,

A tub of fat,

A book put out by Bunyan,
Another book

By Robin Cook,

A skein or two of spunyarn.

An old black muff,
Some garden stuff,

A quantity of borage,

Some devil's weed,
And burdock seed,

To season well your porridge.

A chafing dish,

With one salt fish,

If I am not mistaken,

M. To you I fly,

[ISTRESS Abbey

You only can relieve me,
To you I turn,

For you I burn,

If you will but believe me.

Then gentle dame,
Admit my flame,
And grant me my petition,
If you deny,
Alas! I die,
In pitiful condition.

Before the news

Of your dear spouse Had reach'd us at Newhaven, My dear wife dy'd, Who was my bride,

In anno eighty-seven.

Thus being free,

Let's both agree
To join our hands, for I do
Boldly aver

A widower

Is fittest for a widow.

You may be sure

'Tis not your dow'r

I make this flowing verse on;
In these smooth lays
I only praise

The glories of your person.

For the whole that Was left by Mat. Fortune to me has granted

In equal store,

I've one thing more Which Matthew long had wanted.

No teeth, 'tis true

You have to shew,
The young think teeth inviting.
But, silly youths!

I love those mouths
Where there's no fear of biting.

A leaky eye,
That's never dry,
These woful times is fitting.
A wrinkled face

Adds solemn grace
To folks devout at meeting.

[A furrowed brow,
Where corn might grow,
Such fertile soil is seen in't,
A long hook nose,
Tho' scorn'd by foes,
For spectacles convenient.]*

JOHN BEVERIDGE.

JOHN BEVERIDGE, the author of a volume of Latin verses, was a native of Scotland, where he commenced his career as a schoolmaster in Edinburgh. One of his pupils was the blind poet Blacklock, to whom he afterwards addressed some English lines, in which he gives the motives which induced him to attempt poetry, with a Latin translation of his friend's version of the 104th Psalm.

In 1752 he removed to New England, where he remained five years, and became intimate with Dr. Mayhew and other leading men of that city. In 1758 he was appointed Professor of Languages in the college and academy of Philadelphia. Alexander Graydon,* who was one of his pupils, says "he retained the smack of his vernacular tongue in its primitive purity," and has preserved the memory, in his Memoirs, of some schoolboy anecdotes which show that he was a poor disciplinarian. One of the larger boys once pulled off his wig under pretence of brushing off a fly from it, and a still greater liberty was indulged in one afternoon, by suddenly closing the door and windows and pelting the master with dictionaries. "This most intolerable outrage," says Graydon, "had a run of several days, and was only put a stop to by the vigorous interference of the faculty." Beveridge, "diminutive in his stature, and neither young nor vigorous," being unable to administer corporal punishment efficiently, "after exhausting himself in the vain attempt to denude the delinquent, was generally glad to compound for a few strokes over his clothes, on any part that was accessible."

Beveridge published, in 1765, a collection of Latin poems, Epistola Familiares et alia quædam miscellanea. The book is dedicated in Latin to the provincial dignitaries, Penn, Allan, Hamilton, Smith, and Alison. Next follow lines by A. Alexander, "On Mr. Beveridge's Poetical Performances"-a few of which we quote.

* Graydon's Memoirs, 35. Graydon also went to school to another writer of some note in his day, David James Dove. Dove sadly belied his name, his chief reputation being that of a savage satirist. He was born in England, and it is said figures in a book mentioned in Boswell's Johnson, "The Life and Adventures of the Chevalier Taylor." Dove was English teacher in the Philadelphia Academy, but, quarrelling with the trustees, took charge of the Germantown Academy on its organization in 1762. He soon got into a quarrel here also, and started an opposition school in a house which he built on an adjoining lot. The enterprise shortly fell through.

Dove applied his humor to the management of his school as well as to the composition of his satires. His birch," says Graydon, "was rarely used in canonical method, but was generally stuck into the back part of the collar of the unfortunate culprit, who, with this badge of disgrace towering from his nape like a broom at the mast-head of a vessel for sale, was com pelled to take his stand upon the top of the form, for such a period of time as his offence was thought to deserve." Boys who were late in appearing in the morning were waited upon by a deputation of scholars and escorted with bell and lighted lantern through the streets to school. He was once late himself, and submitted with a good grace to the same attentions, which his pupils did not lose an opportunity of bestowing.

Dove's satires have passed away with the incidents and personages which gave them birth. They appeared in the periodicals of the day.

+Epistolæ Familiares et Alia quædam miscellanea. Familiar Epistles, and other Miscellaneous Pieces-wrote originally in Latin verse. By John Beveridge, A.M., Professor of Languages in the Academy of Philadelphia. To which are added several translations into English verse, by different Hands, &c. Philadelphia, printed for the Author by William Bradford, 1765, 88 8vo. pages, 16 of which are closely printed.

Alexander, a fine classical scholar, was appointed a tutor in the college after he was graduated, but, becoming involved in pecuniary embarrassments, quitted the city soon after entering upon his duties.-Fisher's Early Poets of Pa.

If music sweet delight your ravish'd ear,
No music's sweeter than the numbers here.
In former times fam'd Maro smoothly sung,
But still he warbled in his native tongue;
His tow'ring thoughts and soft enchanting lays
Long since have crown'd him with immortal bays;
But ne'er did Maro such high glory seek
As to excel Mæonides in Greek.

Here you may view a bard of modern time,
Who claims fair Scotland as his native clime,
Contend with Flaccus on the Roman Lyre,
His humour catch and glow with kindred fire.
When some gay rural landscape proves his theme,
Some sweet retirement or some silver stream;
Nature's unfolded in his melting song,
The brooks in softer murmurs glide along,
The gales blow gentler thro' the nestling trees,
More aromatic fragrance fills the breeze;
Tiber, the theme of many a bard's essay,
Is sweetly rival'd here in Casco Bay.

The epistles are forty-six in number, two of which are in English. The forty-third is addressed, "Ad præcellentiss. Tho. Penn. Pennsylvania Proprietarium, seu (Latine) Dominum." Of the two in English the second is addressed to Thomas Blacklock, "the celebrated blind poet, who was taught his Latin by the author," as he informs us in a note. The first is so pleasantly written that it will bear quotation in part,

ΤΟ

Dear Sir, methinks I see you smile,
To find the muse does you beguile,
Stealing upon you by a wile,

And in a dress unusual;

Know then she's fond, in her new cloth,
To visit you and madam both:
Then treat her kindly, she is loath
To meet with a refusal.

In the enjoyment of your wife,
She wishes long and happy life,
Secure from trouble, care, and strife,

And then a generation

Of boys and girls; a hopeful race,
Their aged parents' crown and grace;
Skilful in war, an! when 'tis peace
The glory of their nation.

May never want your steps pursue,
Nor watchful care contract your brow:
The horn of plenty be your due,

With health and skill to use it.
No narrow views debase your soul;
May you ne'er want a cheerful bowl,
To treat a friend, and cares controul;
But yet do not abuse it.

Improve the days that are serene;
Make hay while yet the sun doth shine,
Twill not avail you to repine;

Take care lest here

you

blunder.

You can't recall the by-past hours,

The present time is only yours;
The warmest day brings quickest show'rs,
And often, too, with thunder.

And storms will happen; when 'tis so,
Low'r down the sails and let 'em blow:
Or guard yourself at least from woe,
By yielding to the billows.
Tempests will rend the stubborn oak,
The tallest pines are soonest broke,
And yield beneath the furious stroke
Which never hurts the willows.
VOL. I.-9

I mean to save it for yourself,
Or else the cunning, wayward elf,

Perchance may sometimes wander.
Unjustly all our nymphs complain
Their empire holds too short a reign,
Yet do not at this wonder,

If you your empire would maintain,
Use the same arts that did it gain,

Success will never fail you.

At ev'ry trifle scorn offence,
Which shows great pride or little sense,
And never will avail you.

Shun av'rice, vanity, and pride;
High titles, empty toys deride,

Tho' glitt'ring in the fashions.
You're wealthy if you are content,
For pow'r, its amplest best extent,
Is empire o'er the passions,

"Tis not on madam's heavenly face,
His ever constant love he'll place;

Only consult your glasses:
For beauty, like the new blown flow'r,
Lives but the glory of an hour,
And then forever passes.

The graces of your mind display,
When transient beauties fly away,

Than empty phantoms fleeter.
Then as the hours of life decline,
You like the setting sun shall shine,

With milder rays and sweeter.

The translations are thus apologetically introduced: "The Editor begs a little indulgence for them, as they are all (except Dr. Mayhew's and Mr. Morton's,) done by students under age; and if the Critic will only bear with them, till their understandings are mature, I apprehend they are in a fair way of doing better." Several are by Thomas Coombe, A. Alexander, A. B., and Tstudent in philosophy. W- J—, N. Evans, A. M., and Stephen Watts,* contribute one or two each. Mayhew furnishes two, the first of which trips off pleasantly:

H

Dear Thomas, of congenial soul,
My first acquaintance in the school;
With whom I oft have worn away,
In mirthful jests the loit'ring day.
Treading the dialectic road

Of major, minor, figure, mood.

*Watts published, at an early age, an "Essay on the Advantages of a Perpetual Union between Great Britain and her Colonies," which was received with great favor. He afterwards removed to Louisiana, where he married a daughter of the Spanish Governor.-Fisher's Early Poets of Pa.

THOMAS COOMBE.

THOMAS COOMBE, who first appears in our literature as a translator of some of his teacher Beveridge's Latin poems, was a native of Philadelphia, and after concluding his course at the College, studied theology, and visiting England to take orders, was on his return appointed an assistant minister of Christ Church. He sided with the liberal party at the outbreak of the Revolution, but disapproving of the separation from England, joined after that event the tory party. He was, in 1777, banished with others, by the legislature, to Staunton, Virginia, but was allowed on the score of sickness to remain. He soon after went to England. The Earl of Carlisle made him his chaplain, and he finally became a Prebendary of Canterbury, and one of the royal chaplains.* In 1775, he published in London a short narrative poem, The Peasant of Auburn, or the Emigrant,† accompanied by a few smaller pieces. The tract is dedicated to Goldsmith, and seems designed as a continuation of the Deserted Village. It presents a lugubrious picture of the fortunes of an emigrant. We quote a few of its closing pages.

Edwin, a wanderer on the banks of the Ohio, relates his mournful experiences.

Much had I heard from men unus'd to feign,
Of this New World, and freedom's gentle reign.
'Twas fam'd that here, by no proud master spurn'd;
The poor man ate secure the bread he earned;
That verdant vales were fed by brighter streams
Than my own Medway, or the silver Thames:
Fields without bounds, spontaneous fruitage bore,
And peace and virtue bless'd the favor'd shore.
Such were the hopes which once beguil'd my care
Hopes form'd in dreams, and baseless as the air.

Is this, O dire reverse, is this the land,
Where nature sway'd, and peaceful worthies plann'd?
Where injured freedom, through the world impell'd,
Her hallow'd seat, her last asylum held!

Ye glittering towns that crown th' Atlantic deep,
Witness the change, and as ye witness weep.
Mourn all ye streams, and all ye fields deplore,
Your slaughter'd sons, your verdure stain'd with

gore.

Fisher's Early Poets of Pa. 98.

Far, far away the wretched owners roam,
Exiles like me, the world their only home.

Here as I trace my melancholy way,

The prowling Indian snuffs his wonted prey,
Ha! should I meet him in his dusky round-
Late in these woods I heard his murderous sound-
Still the deep war hoop vibrates on mine ear,
And still I hear his tread, or seem to hear—
Hark! the leaves rustle! what a shriek was there!
"Tis he! tis he! his triumphs rend the air.
Hold, coward heart, I'll answer to the yell,
And chase the murderer to his gory cell
Savage!-but oh! I rave-o'er yonder wild,
E'en at this hour he drives my only child;
She, the dear source and soother of my pain,
My tender daughter, drags the captive chain.

Ah my poor Lucy! in whose face, whose breast,
My long-lost Emina liv'd again confest,
Thus robb'd of thee, and every comfort fled,
Soon shall the turf infold this weary head;
Soon shall my spirit reach that peaceful shore,
Where bleeding friends unite, to part no more.
When shall I cease to rue the fatal morn
When first from Auburn's vale I roam'd forlorn.
He spake-and frantic with the sad review
Prone on the shore his tottering limbs he threw.
Life's crimson strings were bursting round his heart,
And his torn soul was throbbing to depart;
No pitying friend, no meek-ey'd stranger near,
To tend his throes, or calm them with a tear.
Angels of grace, your golden pinions spread,
Temper the winds, and shield his houseless head.
Let no rude sounds disturb life's awful close,
And guard his relics from inhuman foes.

O haste and waft him to those radiant plains, Where fiends torment no more, and love eternal reigns.

THOMAS HUTCHINSON. THOMAS HUTCHINSON, the celebrated Governor of Massachusetts at the outset of the revolution, was a descendant of Ann Hutchinson, and a son of Colonel Thomas Hutchinson, a leading merchant and member of the council of the colony. He was born in 1711, and was graduated at Harvard in 1727. He commenced his career as a merchant, but failing in that pursuit studied law.

Tho-Hitchmon

He was chosen a selectman of Boston in 1788,
and appointed the agent of the town to visit Lon-
don in the discharge of important business, a duty
After
which he performed with great success.
his return, he was for ten years a member, and for
three the speaker of the colonial House of Repre-
sentatives, where he obtained a great reputation
as a debater and efficient presiding officer. He
was a member of the council from 1749 to 1766,
and lieutenant-governor from 1758 to 1771. Ile
was also appointed a judge of probate in 1752,
and chief-justice in 1760. During the agitation
which followed the passage of the Stamp-Act, in
consequence of a report that he had expressed an
opinion in favor of that unpopular measure, his
house was twice attacked by a mob. On the
first occasion the windows were broken, and a
few evenings after, on the 26th of August, the