which had been originally of this country. He examined the tombs of his ancestors; he viewed them with reverential affection, and rested his head with emotion upon the marble that covered their ashes. The first day passed unperceived in the midst of these strong impressions: the second brought with it the claims of hunger, even yet more pressing than the desire of liberty; yet his benefactress came not. Every hour in its lingering passage now increased his sufferings, his terror, and despair. Sometimes he imagined the generous girl had fallen a victim to her desire of saving his life; at others he accused her of forgetting him; in either case he saw himself doomed to a death a thousand times more horrible than that from which he had escaped. At length, exhausted with fruitless efforts, with agonizing fears, and the intolerable gnawings of hunger, he sunk into insensibility upon one of the graves of his ancestors.

The third day was far advanced, when he recovered to a languid sense of his deplorable condition. Shortly after he heard a soundit was the voice of his benefactress, who called to him from the chapel. Overwhelmed with joy as with weakness, he has not the power to answer-She believes him already dead, and with a mournful exclamation lets fall the door that covers the entrance of the tomb. At the sound of the falling of the door the unfortunate man feels his powers return, utters a shriek of despair, and rushes with precipitation up the stairs. Happily the niece of the sexton had not left the spot-she hears the cry, lifts the door, and descends to save him. She had brought him food, and explained the causes of her long delay, assuring him that she had now taken such precautions, that in future she could not fail to administer to his daily wants. After seeing him refreshed and consoled, she quitted him; but had scarcely proceeded some steps when she heard the doors unlock, and the noise of a number of armed men entering. She flew back to the vault, and motioned the refugee to silence. The persons who now filled the church were a detachment of French soldiers, who had been sent there to search for an emigrant the sexton was suspected of concealing. The sexton himself led them on. Perfectly unconscious of the danger his niece had incurred, proud of his own innocence, he loudly encouraged their activity, and directed their researches to each remote corner of the chapel, that every spot might attest his good faith. What a situation for the two captives! The soldiers passed many times over the fatal VOL. IV.

3 N

door, led by their restless and prying conductor, and each footstep sounded to the trembling victims below as the signal of their death. The entrance of the vault however remained unobserved, the noise by degrees died away, and when the niece of the sexton ventured from the vault, she found the door of the church shut, and every one gone. She again assured the refugee of her stedfast protection, and retired.

On the following day, and for many succeeding days, she regularly supplied him with provisions; and the instant a favourable moment arrived for his escape, his vigilant friend conducted him from his subterraneous abode, and instructed him in the safest means to pass unmolested. Leaving the tomb, he gained the country; and soon after rejoining his wife, her presence and affections taught him to appreciate still more highly the services of his generous benefactress.

WILLIAM CROTCH.

It is probable that the history of William Crotch, the astonishing infant musician, has fallen into the way of very few, if indeed it has of any of our readers. It is at all events so curious and so wonderful, though unquestionably true, that we rejoice in having it in our power to offer it to our readers, as communicated by doctor Burney to the Royal Society, and extracted from the Philosophical Transactions into the Annual Register for the year 1779 we give it in the very words of the doctor.

That reason begins to dawn, and reflection to operate in some children much sooner than others, must be known to every one who has had an opportunity of comparing the faculties of one child with those of another. It has, however, seldom been found, that the senses, by which intelligence is communicated to the mind, advance with even pace towards perfection. The eye and the ear, which seem to afford reason its principal supplies, mature at different periods, in proportion to exercise and experience; and not only arrive at different degrees of perfection during the stages of infancy, but have different limits at every period of human life. An eye or ear that only serves the common purposes of existence is intitled to no praise; and it is only by extraordinary proofs of quickness and discrimination in the use of these senses, that an early tendency to the art of painting or music is discovered.

Many children, indeed, seem to recognise different forms, persons, sounds, and tones of voice, in very early infancy, who never afterwards endeavour to imitate forms by delineation, or sounds by vocal inflexions.

As drawing or design may be called a refinement of the sense of sight, and practical music of that of hearing; and as a perfection in these arts at every period of life, from the difficulty of its attainment, and the delight it affords to the admires and judges of both, is treated with respect, a premature disposition to either usually excites the same kind of wonder as a phenomenon or prodigy.

But as persons consummate in these arts, and who are acquainted with the usual difficulties which impede the rapid progress of common students, can only judge of the miraculous parts of a child's knowledge or performance, it will be necessary, before I speak of the talents peculiar to the child who is the subject of the present inquiry, to distinguish, as far as experience and observation shall enable me, between a common and supernatural disposition, during infancy, towards the art of music.

In general a child is not thought capable of profiting from the instructions of a music-master till five or six years old, though many have discovered an ear capable of being pleased with musical tones, and a voice that could imitate them much sooner. The lullaby of a nurse during the first month of a child's existence has been found to subdue peevishness, and, perhaps, divert attention from pain; and in the second year it has often happened, that a child has not only been more diverted with one tune or series of sounds than another, but has had sufficient power over the organs of voice to imitate the inflexions by which it is formed; and these early proofs of what is commonly called musical genius would doubtless be more frequently discovered if experiments were made, or the mothers or nurses were musically curious. However, spontaneous efforts at forming a tune, or producing harmony upon an instrument so early, have never come to my knowledge.

The arts being governed by laws built on such productions and effects as the most part of mankind have long agreed to call excellent, can make but small approaches towards perfection in a state of nature, however favourable may be the disposition of those who are supposed to be gifted with an uncommon tendency towards their cultivation. Nature never built a palace, painted a picture, or made a tune: these are all works of art. And with respect to ar

chitecture and music, there are no models in nature which can encourage imitation: and though there is a wild kind of music among savages, where passion vents itself in lengthened tones different from those of speech, yet these rude effusions can afford no pleasure to a cultivated ear, nor would be honoured in Europe with any better title than the howlings of animals of an inferior order to mankind.

All therefore that is really admirable in early attempts at music is the power of imitation; for elegant melody and good harmony can only be such as far as they correspond with or surpass their models: and as melody consists in the happy arrangement of single sounds, and harmony in the artificial combination and simultaneous use of them, an untaught musician becomes the inventor of both, and those who are at all acquainted with the infancy of such melody and harmony as constitute modern music, can alone form an idea of the rude state of both when an individual discovers them by the slow process of experiment.

Every art when first discovered seems to resemble a rough and shapeless mass of marble just hewn out of a quarry, which requires the united and successive endeavours of many labourers to form and polish. The zeal and activity of a single workman can do but little towards its completion; and in music the undirected efforts of an infant must be still more circumscribed: for, without the aid of reason and perseverance he can only depend on memory and a premature delicacy and acuteness of ear for his guides; and in these particulars the child of whom I am going to speak is truly wonderful.

WILLIAM CROTCH was born at Norwich, July 5, 1775. His father, by trade a carpenter, having a passion for music, of which however he had no knowledge, undertook to build an organ, on which, as soon as it would speak, he learned to play two or three common tunes, such as God save great George our king; Let ambition fire thy mind; and The Easter Hymn; with which, and such chords as were pleasing to his ear, he used to try the perfection of his instrument.

I have been favoured with several particulars concerning his son's first attention to music from Robert Partridge, Esquire, a gentleman of rank in the corporation of Norwich, who, at my request, has been so obliging as to ascertain many curious facts, the truth of which, had they rested merely on the authority of the

child's father or mother, might have been suspected; and transactions out of the common course of nature cannot be too scrupulously or minutely proved.

My correspondent, of whose intelligence and veracity I have the highest opinion, tells me, that I may rest assured of the authenticity of such circumstances as he relates from the information of the child's father, who is an ingenious mechanic, of good reputation, whom he knows very well, and frequently employs, as these circumstances are confirmed by the testimony of many who were witnesses of the child's early performance; and he adds, that he has himself seen and heard most of the very extraordinary efforts of his genius.

About Christmas 1776, when the child was only a year and a half old, he discovered a great inclination for music, by leaving even his food to attend to it when the organ was playing: and about midsummer 1777, he would touch the key-note of his particular favourite tunes, in order to persuade his father to play them. Soon after this, as he was unable to play these tunes, he would play the two or three first notes of them when he thought the key-note did not sufficiently explain which he wished to have played.

But, according to his mother, it seems to have been in consequence of his having heard the superior performance of Mrs. Lulman, a musical lady, who came to try his father's organ, and who not only played on it, but sung to her own accompaniment, that he first attempted to play a tune himself: for, the same evening after her departure, the child cried, and was so peevish that his mother was wholly unable to appease him. At length, passing through the dining room, he screamed and struggled violently to go to the organ, in which, when he was indulged, he eagerly beat down the keys with his little fists, as other children usually do after finding themselves able to produce a noise, which pleases them more than the artificial performance of real melody or harmony by others.

The next day, however, being left, while his mother went out, in the dining room with his brother, a youth of about fourteen years old, he would not let him rest till he blew the bellows of the organ, while he sat on his knee and beat down the keys, at first promiscuously; but presently with one hand, he played enough of God save great George our king to awaken the curiosity of his father,