THE DUMB PHILOSOPHER, OR GREAT BRITAIN'S WONDER. PART I. AMONG the many strange and surprising events that help to fill the accounts of this last century, I know none that merit more an entire credit, or are more fit to be preserved and handed to posterity, than those I am now going to lay before the public. DICKORY CRONKE, the subject of the following narrative, was born at a little hamlet, near St Columb, in Cornwall, on the 29th of May 1660, being the day and year in which King Charles the Second was restored. His parents were of mean extraction, but honest, industrious people, and well beloved in their neighbourhood. His father's chief business was to work at the tin mines; his mother stayed at home to look after the children, of which they had several living at the same time. Our Dickory was the youngest, and being but a sickly child, had always a double portion of her care and tenderness. It was upwards of three years before it was discovered that he was born dumb, the knowledge of which at first gave his mother great uneasiness, but finding soon after that he had his hearing, and all his other senses to the greatest perfection, her grief began to abate, and she resolved to have him brought up as well as their circumstances and his capacity would permit. As he grew, notwithstanding his want of speech, he every day gave some instance of a ready genius, and a genius much superior to the country children, insomuch that several gentlemen in the neighbourhood took particular notice of him, and would often call him Restoration Dick, and give him money, &c. When he came to be eight years of age, his mother agreed with a person in the next village, to teach him to read and write, both which, in a very short time, he acquired to such perfection, especially the latter, that he not only taught his own brothers and sisters, but likewise several young men and women in the neighbourhood, which often brought him in small sums, which he always laid out in such necessaries as be stood most in need of. In this state he continued till he was about twenty, and then he began to reflect how scandalous it was for a young man of his age and circumstances to live idle at home, and so resolves to go with his father to the mines, to try if he could get something towards the support of nimself and the family; but being of a tender constitution, and often sick, he soon perceived that sort of business was too hard for him, so was forced to return home and continue in his former station; upon which he grew exceeding melancholy, which his mother observing, she comforted him in the best manner she could, telling him that if it should please God to take her away, she had something left in store for him, which would preserve him against public want. This kind assurance from a mother whom he so dearly loved gave him some, though not an entire satisfaction; however, he resolves to acquiesce under it till Providence should order something for him more to his content and advantage, which, in a short time, happened according to his wish. The manner was thus: One Mr Owen Parry, a Welsh gentleman of good repute, coming from Bristol to Padstow, a little seaport in the county of Cornwall, near the place where Dickory dwelt, and hearing much of this dumb man's perfections, would needs have him sent for; and finding, by his significant gestures and all outward appearances, that he much exceeded the character that the country gave of him, took a mighty liking to him, insomuch that he told him, if he would go with him into Pembrokeshire, he would be kind to him, and take care of him as long as he lived. This kind and unexpected offer was so welcome to poor Dickory, that without any further consideration, he got a pen and ink and writ a note, and in a very handsome and submissive manner returned him thanks for his favour, assuring him he would do his best to continue and improve it; and that he would be ready to wait upon him whenever he should be pleased to command. To shorten the account as much as possible, all things were concluded to their mutual satisfaction, and in about a fortnight's time they set forward for Wales, where Dickory, notwithstanding his dumbness, behaved himself with so much diligence and affability, that he not only gained the love of the family where he lived, but of everybody round him. In this station he continued till the death of his master, which happened about twenty years afterwards; in all which time, as has been con sever' to exercise the philosopher, and to demonstrate mking, imself both a wise and a good man. "All these 8 Teru- things," thinks he, "are the will of Providence, and must not be disputed;" and so he bore up under them with an entire resignation, resolving that, as soon as he could find a place where he might deposit his trunk and boxes with safety, he would go to St Helen's in quest of his sister. How his sister and he met, and how transported they were to see each other after so long An interval, I think is not very material. It is 1. enough for the present purpose that Dickory soon recollected his sister, and she him; and after 1 great many endearing tokens of love and tenerness, he wrote to her, telling her that he beeved Providence had bestowed on him as much would support him as long as he lived, and if she thought proper he would come and 2d the remainder of his days with her. be good woman no sooner read his proposal she accepted it, adding, withal, that she wish her entertainment was better; but if 1 accept of it as it was, she would do her ake everything easy, and that he should ?, upon his own terms, to stay with her he pleased. -being so happily settled to his full returns to Padstow, to fetch the left behind him, and the next day Helen's, where, according to his continued to the day of his ened upon the 29th of May, e hour in which he was born. a short detail of the several xtracted chiefly from the hind him, I come in the www observations how he this time toward the h winter and sumthe sun; and, if the failed to walk in hours, both supposed, he The chief a little after †, and and re himself, but still he continued utterly insensible for about six hours. At the sixth hour's end he began to move a little, and in a very short time was so far recovered, to the great astonishment of everybody about him, that he was able to look up, and to make a sign to his sister to bring him cup of water. After he had drunk the water he soon perceived that all his faculties were returned to their former stations, and though his strength was very much abated by the length and rigour of the fit, yet his intellects were as strong and vigorous as ever. Much might be said both with regard to the wise and regular management, and the prudenta methods he took to spend his time well towards the declension of his life; but, as his history may haps be shortly published at large by a better I shall only observe in the general, that he : person of great wisdom and sagacity. He Stood nature beyond the ordinary capacity, he had had a competency of learning suitis genius, neither this nor the former i have produced a better philosopher - man. at to speak of the manner of his death f May, 1718, according to his His sister observing him to look earnestly upon the company, as if he had something extraordinary to communicate to them, fetched him a pen and ink and a sheet of paper, which, after a short pause, he took, and wrote as follows:"Dear Sister, "I have now no need of pen, ink, and paper. to tell you my meaning. I find the strings that bound up my tongue, and hindered me from speaking, are unloosed, and I have words to express myself as freely and distinctly as any other person. From whence this strange and unexpected event should proceed, I must not pretend to say, any further than this, that it is doubtless the hand of Providence that has done it, and in that I ought to acquiesce. Pray let me be alone for two or three hours, that I may be at liberty to compose myself, and put my thoughts in the best order I can before I leave them behind me." exact he was in all After the company were withdrawn be fell into othing r to bring him nd I know the world too well to be fond of it, and am fully satisfied that the difference between a long and a short life is insignificant, especially vhen I consider the accidents and company I am › encounter. Do but look seriously and imparally upon the astonishing notion of time and ternity, what an immense deal has run out already, and how infinite 'tis still in the future; veriously and deliberately consider this, And, upon the whole, that three days 1 of life come much to the same koning." firmed by several of the family, he was never observed to be anyways disguised by drinking, or to be guilty of any of the follies and irregularities incident to servants in gentlemen's houses. On the contrary, when he had any spare time, his constant custom was to retire with some good book into a private place within call, and there employ himself in reading, and then writing down his observations upon what he read. to exercise the philosopher, and to demonstrate himself both a wise and a good man. "All these things," thinks he, "are the will of Providence, and must not be disputed;" and so he bore up under them with an entire resignation, resolving that, as soon as he could find a place where he might deposit his trunk and boxes with safety, he would go to St Helen's in quest of his sister. How his sister and he met, and how transAfter the death of his master, whose lossported they were to see each other after so long afflicted him to the last degree, one Mrs Mary an interval, I think is not very material. It is Mordant, a gentlewoman of great virtue and enough for the present purpose that Dickory piety, and a very good fortune, took him into her soon recollected his sister, and she him; and after service, and carried him with her, first to Bath, a great many endearing tokens of love and tenand then to Bristol, where, after a lingering dis-derness, he wrote to her, telling her that he betemper, which continued for about four years, lieved Providence had bestowed on him as much she died likewise. as would support him as long as he lived, and that if she thought proper he would come and spend the remainder of his days with her. Upon the loss of his mistress, Dickory grew again exceeding melancholy and disconsolate; at length, reflecting that death is but a common debt which all mortals owe to nature, and must be paid sooner or later, he became a little better satisfied, and so determines to get together what he had saved in his service, and then to return to his native country, and there finish his life in privacy and retirement. The good woman no sooner read his proposal than she accepted it, adding, withal, that she could wish her entertainment was better; but if he would accept of it as it was, she would do her best to make everything easy, and that he should be welcome, upon his own terms, to stay with her as long as he pleased. This affair being so happily settled to his full satisfaction, he returns to Padstow, to fetch the things he had left behind him, and the next day came back to St Helen's, where, according to his own proposal, he continued to the day of his 1718, about the same hour in which he was born. Having been, as has been mentioned, about twenty-four years a servant, and having, in the interim, received two legacies, viz., one of thirty pounds, left him by his master, and another of fifteen pounds by his mistress, and being always very frugal, he had got by him in the whole up-death, which happened upon the 29th of May, wards of sixty pounds. This," thinks he, "with prudent management, will be enough to support me as long as I live, and so I'll e'en lay aside all thoughts of future business, and make the best of my way to Cornwall, and there find out some safe and solitary retreat, where I may have liberty to meditate and make my melancholy observations upon the several occurrences of human life." This resolution prevailed so far, that no time was let slip to get everything in readiness to go with the first ship. As to his money he always kept that locked up by him, unless he sometimes lent it to a friend without interest, for he had a mortal hatred to all sorts of usury or extortion. His books, of which he had a considerable quantity, and some of them very good ones, together with his other equipage, he got packed up, that nothing might be wanting against the first opportunity. Having thus given a short detail of the several periods of his life, extracted chiefly from the papers which he left behind him, I come in the next place to make a few observations how he managed himself and spent his time toward the latter part of it. His constant practice, both winter and summer, was to rise and set with the sun; and, if the weather would permit, he never failed to walk in some unfrequented place for three hours, both morning and evening, and there, it is supposed, he composed the following meditations. The chief part of his sustenance was milk, with a little bread boiled in it, of which, in a morning, after his walk, he would eat the quantity of a pint, and sometimes more. Dinners he never eat any; and at night he would only have a pretty large piece of bread, and drink a draught of good springwater; and after this method he lived during the whole time he was at St Helen's. It is observed of him that he never slept out of a bed, nor never lay awake in one; which I take to be an argument, not only of a strong and healthful consti In a few days he heard of a vessel bound to Padstow, the very port he wished to go to, being within four or five miles of the place where he was born. When he came thither, which was in less than a week, his first business was to in-tution, but of a mind composed and calm, and quire after the state of his family. It was some time before he could get any information of them, until an old man, that knew his father and mother, and remembered they had a son was born dumb, recollected him, and after a great deal of difficulty, made him understand that all his family except his youngest sister were dead, and that she was a widow, and lived at a little town called St Helen's, about ten miles further in the country. This doleful news, we must imagine, must be extremely shocking, and add a new sting to his former affliction; and here it was that he began entirely free from the ordinary disturbances of human life. He never gave the least signs of complaint or dissatisfaction at anything, unless it was when he heard the tinners swear, or saw them drunk, and then, too, he would get out of the way as soon as he had let them see, by some sig. nificant signs, how scandalous and ridiculous they made themselves; and against the next time he met them, would be sure to have a paper ready written, wherein he would represent the folly of drunkenness, and the dangerous consequences that generally attended it. Idleness was his utter aversion, and if at any |