table to dinner, and very handsomely entertained; after which he was called into a great parlour, among a large company of gentlemen and ladies.  Well, honest Mr. Rat-catcher, said Mr. Portman, can you lay any schemes to kill the rats, without hurting my dogs?  Yes, boldly replied Mr. Carew, I shall lay it where even cats can’t climb to reach it.  And what countryman are you, pray?  A Devonshire man, please your honour.  What may be your name?  Our hero now perceiving, by the smiles and whispering of the gentlemen, that he was known, replied very composedly, B, a, m, p, f, y, l, d, e, M, o, o, r, e, C, a, r, e, w.  This occasioned a good deal of mirth; and Mr. Carew asking what scabby sheep had infected the whole flock? was told, Parson Bryant was the man who had discovered him, none of the other gentlemen knowing him under his disguise: upon which, turning to the parson, he asked him if he had forgotten good king Charles’s rules?  Mr. Pleydell, of St. Andrew’s, Milbourn, expressed a pleasure at seeing the famous Mr. Bampfylde Moore Carew, saying he had never seen him before.  Yes, but

you have, replied he, and gave me a suit of clothes.  Mr. Pleydell testified some surprise at this, and desired to know when it was.  Mr. Carew asked him if he did not remember a poor wretch met him one day at his stable-door with an old stocking round his head instead of a cap, and a woman’s old ragged mantle on his shoulders, no shirt on his back, nor stockings to his legs, and scarce any shoes on his feet; and that he asked him if he was mad? to which he replied No; but a poor unfortunate man, cast away on the coast, and taken up, with eight others, by a Frenchman, the rest of the crew, sixteen in number, being all drowned; and that Mr. Pleydell having asked what countryman he was, gave him a guinea and a suit of clothes.  Mr. Pleydell said he well remembered such a poor object.  Well, replied our hero, that object was no other than the rat-catcher now before you: at which all the company laughed very heartily.  Well, said Mr. Pleydell, I will bet a guinea I shall know you again, come in what shape you will: the same said Mr. Seymour, of Handford.  Some of the company asserting to the contrary of this, they desired our hero to try his ingenuity upon them, and then to discover himself, to convince them of it.

This being agreed upon, and having received a handsome contribution of this company, he took his leave; but Parson Bryant followed him out, and acquainted him that the same company, and many more, would be at Mr. Pleydell’s on such a day, and advised him to make use of that opportunity to deceive them all together; which our hero soon resolved to do.  He therefore revolved

in his mind what stratagem was most likely to succeed: at length he fixed upon one, which he thought could not fail answering his purpose.

When the day was come, the barber was called in to make his face as smooth as his art could do, and a woman’s gown and other female accoutrements of the largest size were provided for him.  Having jumped into his petticoats, pinned a large dowde under his chin, and put a high-crowned hat on his head, he made a figure so comical that even Hogarth’s humour can scarcely parallel; yet our hero thought himself of something else to render his disguise more impenetrable: he therefore borrowed a little hump-backed child of a tinker, and two more of some others of his community.  There remained now only in what situation to place the children, and it was quickly resolved to tie two to his back, and to take the other in his arms.

Thus accoutred, and thus hung with helpless infants, he marched forwards for Mr. Pleydell’s; coming up to the door, he put his hand behind him, and pinched one of the children, which set it a roaring; this gave the alarm to the dogs, so that between their barking and the child’s crying, the whole family was sufficiently disturbed.  Out came the maid, crying, Carry away the children, old woman, they disturb the ladies.  God bless their ladyships, I am the poor unfortunate grandmother to these poor helpless infants, whose dear mother and all they had was burnt at the dreadful fire at Kirton, and hope the good ladies, for God’s sake, will bestow something on the poor famishing starving infants.  This moving story was accompanied with tears; upon which, the maid ran in to acquaint

the ladies with this melancholy tale, while the good grandmother kept pinching one or other of the children, that they might play their parts to greater perfection; the maid soon returned with a half crown from the ladies, and some good broth, which he went into the court-yard to eat, (understanding the gentlemen were not in the house,) and got one of the under-servants, whom he met, to give some to the children on his back.  He had not long been there, before the gentlemen all came in together, who accosted him with, Where did you come from, my good old woman?  From Kirton, please your honours, where the poor unfortunate mother of these helpless babes was burnt to death by the flames, and all they had consumed.

D---n you, said one of the gentlemen, (who is well known by the name of Worthy Sir, and was particularly acquainted with Mr. Carew,) there has been more money collected for Kirton than ever Kirton was worth; however, he gave this good old grandmother a shilling, the other gentlemen likewise relieved her, commiserating her age, and her burden of so many helpless infants; not one of them discovering our hero in the old woman, who received their alms very thankfully, and pretended to go away.

But the gentlemen were not got into the house before their ears were saluted with a “tantivy, tantivy,” and halloo to the dogs, upon which they turned about, supposing it to be some brother sportsman, but seeing nobody, Worthy Sir swore the old woman they had relieved was Carew; a servant therefore was dispatched to bring her back; and she was brought into the parlour among the

gentlemen, where, being examined, she confessed herself to be the famous Mr. Bampfylde Moore Carew, which made the gentlemen very merry, and they were now all employed in untying the children from his back, and observing the features and dress of this grandmother, which afforded them sufficient entertainment.  They afterwards rewarded our hero for the mirth he procured them.

In the same manner he raised a contribution of Mr. Jones, of Ashton near Bristol, twice in one day, who had maintained, with a gentleman of his acquaintance, that he could not be so deceived.  In the morning, with a sooty face, leather apron, a dejected countenance, and a woollen cap, he was generously relieved as an unfortunate blacksmith, whose all had been consumed by fire: in the afternoon he exchanged his logs for crutches; his countenance was now pale and sickly, his gestures very expressive of pain, his complaints lamentable, a poor unfortunate tinner, disabled from maintaining himself, a wife, and seven children, by the damps and hardships he had suffered in the mines; and so well did he paint his distress, that the disabled tinner was now as generously relieved as the unfortunate blacksmith had been in the morning.

Being now near the city of Bath, where he had not long before made so great a figure with his new married bride, he was resolved to visit it in a very different shape and character; he therefore tied up one of his legs behind him, and supplied its place with a wooden one, and putting on a false beard, assumed the character of a poor old cripple.  In this disguise he had an opportunity of entertaining

himself with the different