them by her own act. Her residence in England was not a voluntary one, how then had she become subject to the English law? The case put by S. of a voluntary residence of one sovereign in the dominions of another, is not parallel, and H. Y. S. neither admits nor denies the right of inflicting punishment in such a case. Although, from analogy to the case of an ambassador, he suspects that expulsion would be the extent to which the infliction could be carried. But Mary's residence was not a voluntary one, she, indeed, came into England voluntarily, but when she would have withdrawn herself, she was prevented. Her local allegiance to England would have determined the moment she had quitted the soil of that country. But she was unjustly prevented from quitting it; she must, therefore, according to every principle of reason and justice, be taken, to have determined such allegiance, (if it ever existed) having done all that was in her power to effect that purpose. If then she was not amenable to English law, (and the course of proceeding against her, shows she was not considered so to be,) she could only be justly put to death in a case of extreme necessity, or in the prosecution of a just war. The necessity which gives an individual a right over the life of another, is by all moralists agreed to exist only when the existence of one is incompatible with that of the other. The operation of such an incompatibility is mutual, and either party may then destroy the other, unless where the in compatibility is produced by the wrongful act of one of the parties. In that case the wrong doer acquires no right, and the case is in fact that of a private war. But a case of absolute incompatibility must be made out, and not a bare increase of Elizabeth's danger, by the existence of Mary, before Elizabeth upon the principle of necessity acquired a right over the life of her rival. But the strong ground of the advocates of Elizabeth, seems to be the supposition of a private war existing between her and Mary. By a private war I mean an hostility between two individuals, who, living in a state of nature, without any common arbiter beween them, are compelled to resort to force or stratagem to assert some right, of which one or both of them have been deprived. Such a war, H. Y. S. believes did exist between Elizabeth and Mary, who, he flatters himself he has shown, were in a state of nature, as to each other. But then this war must have

レー

been just on the part of Elizabeth, or under it she could acquire no right. That no person shall take advantage of his own wrong, is not less a maxim of universal and eternal justice, than of our municipal law.

The question then resolves itself into who was the aggressor in this supposed war? H. Y. S. undertakes to prove that it was Elizabeth. The advocate of Elizabeth admits, and indeed he cannot deny, that the crimes committed by Mary in Scotland, have nothing to do with this question, they were no just cause of war against her to Elizabeth. The controversy between them arises entirely after Mary's residence in England; for, on her arrival there, Elizabeth received her as a friend, and thereby waved all right, if she had any, to wage war for her former conduct. Not the slightest act of hostility, has been laid to the charge of Mary, until Elizaheth had set her the example by unjustly depriving her of her liberty.

H. Y. S. again disclaims the character of the advocate of Mary, he admits, in the language of his opponent, that she was "stained with every crime that could disgrace her sex and degrade humanity," and that she is "without reserve, branded with the deepest infamy." But he cannot go farther, he cannot agree with S. that "Elizabeth is wholly exculpated from blame." On the contrary, he accuses her of the murder of her guilty, but unhappy kinswoman, over whose grave he (who is not so stern a moralist as S.) must be permitted to waste some compassion. And if he has succeeded, as he is vain enough to think he has, in showing, that Mary was not amenable to English law, and that in the private war, which may be presumed to have existed between them, Elizabeth was the aggressor; he thinks that he has proved his accusation, unless it can be shown that Mary's continued existence was incompatible with the life of Elizabeth.

In this controversy H. Y. S. is actuated solely by the love of justice and truth, he has no predilections for Elizabeth or Mary, he pities the one, and admires the other; he has no preference for the house of Tudor or of Stuart; he has no choice between Upas and Machireel. He, therefore, declines plunging further, into a controversy which would be wearisome to him, and cannot be interesting to the publick. He regrets having ventured upon ground which has been trodden by men to whom he must

He will, therefore,

show as the glow-worm to the meridian sun. spare his ineffectual fire;" but he retires with undiminished confidence in the goodness of his cause, and should his opponent think fit to reply to these hurried remarks, he will leave to him whatever of advantage or of triumph, he may derive from concluding the controversy.

Baltimore, Dec. 14, 1816.

Please to inform me in your next number, whether your club will admit another member-If it will, I have no further fear; for I'll bet you a hat to a watch-riband, that I am the man, in your own opinion, before you shall have half finished this epistle. You know, dear Mr. Secretary, that there is nothing so unpleasant, to a man of real modesty, as egotism; and therefore you must excuse me, if I should omit some trifling qualifications in this catalogue, that you may hereafter perceive to belong to me, on a personal interview. First then, I am a very young man-a certain something, as Alexander once said to his father Philip by the way, speaking of father Philip, we got up the whole scene at our school-house last week, and my grand mother played Alice and as your Managers say, she did it well too

VOL. III.

9

-But, pardon me, I have wandered a little. Youth, I take it, must be a powerful recommendation in a candidate. Secondly, I am already familiar with the characters of all your members, if I may judge of them from their writings-consequently, as my friend Horace says-but no matter. Another qualification I possess, is the overflowing abundance of brain-of mind-of something, which, I dare say, you have observed before this-In short, for any thing in the literary way, I am your man, "prologue or epilogue," drunk, or sober. In the next place, I have no unbecoming propensities-I neither smoke, chew, nor take snuffam particularly attentive to cleanliness, put on a clean shirt every Sunday morning, and wash my face and hands every other day, regularly, cold or hot. Nor am I particularly diffident, though, as Dr. Johnson says, in his last edition of Shakespear's Roman Empire, "diffidence is becoming"-a very sensible remark, in my opinion, but the author should have said when and where diffidence is becoming. But, as I was saying, I am not easily disconcerted; even if I fail in a story or a joke, I can still hold up my head, and will promise never to disgrace the club. All our family have been distinguished for a certain agreeable composure, while any body was laughing at them. I never knew one of them to get mad, as we call it, but, I think, very inelegantly; ruffled is a much better word, as Edmund Pitt says, in his Sermon on the "Wealth of Nations."We are always at home, as a body may say, in all circumstances and on all occasions. The fact is, dear Secretary, my brother William and myself are what you call d―d fine fellows-not that I mean that he is a fair for me- no, no, not so bad as that neither-but he is what our neighbours call an oddity; so am I, and two, you know, make a pair. Therefore-But, pray Mr. Secretary, do you know William, or Billy, as we call him facetiously, i. e. for shortness? "you'll never see his like again" as Captain Cook has it.

may

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Now you must know that Billy was once hideously inclined to be sheepish; but about three years ago, at the very acme-the zenith-the crisis of his complaint-the disease took a new form, and Billy is now quite another man. It was at the dinner table of one of our uncles in your city-Billy had never been in town before it was in the winter, when apples, you know, are scarce, and Billy had brought a couple of them in his pocket, ready

-h

skinned, and as big as dumplings, as a present to our two cousins
-but Billy had forgotten them, until he was seated at table-so
he got up, walked round and gave each of them one. Billy says,
they all laughed and a servant was called to wipe off the crumbs
of gingerbread and cheese that stuck to them. Now this was a
great trial-but Billy thought he might as well laugh as cry, and
so he joined in the laugh-and they all called him a D-
clever fellow, and took it for a joke. And, now, he can do any
thing and every thing, and no body complains, for he is a licensed
oddity says Billy to me, when he told me the story, "my teeth
chattered, and my tongue was so dry, I thought I was choking"
-I have since found the same idea in Arthur Young's "Ode for
St. Cecilia's day" which you may remember:

"His teeth were calcined, and his tongue was so dry,
It rattled against them, as tho' you should try

To play the Piano with thimbles."

Since then, he has been so perfectly disciplined, that he can remain at his ease, where I should almost die of fear-Once, I remember, after a dead silence, at a conversation party, of full fifteen minutes, Billy burst out into a horse-laugh every body joined him, and after they had all laughed till their sides ached, they asked him what they were laughing at? "Nothing!" said Billy-"nothing," said he, and then they laughed again. I tried the same trick some time ago; but some how or other, it did not take -nobody laughed but Billy and I, and he laughed at me-and they would not give me an opportunity to say "nothing," as he did I have seen him begin a long story, and repeat it after a man who had just told it, not altering it more than one or two such words as and or but, and wind it up by telling them, that that was the way, he heard it-and then they would all shout again; but I never could see the wit of that, though Billy always does it among strangers.

Now for a few more of my own qualifications-I can write Valentine's verses, mark pocket-handkerchiefs, and cut watch-papers as Primrose says, in his "Vicar of Wakefield." I can size off a company at a ball-room, parade, or tea-party-can introduce Mr. A. B. to Miss. X. Y. Z. in great style-drive a gig tantrum, as we call it and ride á shovel, (you see I can quote French too) like a