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Updated: June 4, 2025
Beattie, a week or two later, wrote: 'Johnson grows in grace as he grows in years. See ante, iii. 65. Wilkes was by this time City Chamberlain. See ante, ii. 201, for Beattie's Essay on Truth. Thurot, in the winter of 1759-60, with a small squadron made descents on some of the Hebrides and on the north-eastern coast of Ireland. In a sea fight off Ireland he was killed and his ships were taken.
It was a strange, vivid picture: that small arc of light augmenting the dusk about them, and Lydia sitting rapt in expectation while Madame Beattie's yellowed face lay upon the obscurity, an amazing portraiture against the dark. It was a picture of a perfect consistency, of youth and innocence and need coming to the sybil for a reading of the leaves of life.
Yet by riding abreast of the moving main we did resolve the uncertainty; heard the orders passed from man to man, and later saw a small feinting detachment split off to take the road for Beattie's, whilst the main body held on for Macgowan's; all this before we were discovered in the gloaming of the dawn by some of Tarleton's men.
But here Dick went back to my warning, saying, whilst we let the horses drink: "'Tis patrolled on the other bank, you say?" "It was when I passed it a few days agone." "Then I will turn back and cross at Beattie's. 'Twill make you a risk you need not take to have me with you."
No one ever had any occasion to use the back trail, and it was invisible for its whole length to travellers on the main road. After issuing from the woods of Grier's Point it crossed a wide flat among clumps of willows, and, climbing over the spur of a wooded hill, dropped in Beattie's back yard. They met half-way across the flat in the tender dusk.
They would be curious and funny and dear: for they all wore the mantle of life. He sat down on a lower step, and Lydia looked at him gravely, yet with pleasure, too. "Lydia," said he, "do you know what they're calling me, these foreigners Madame Beattie's training with?" She nodded. "The Prisoner," said Jeff. "That's what I am The Prisoner." She hastened to reassure him.
I sit in the shade of my old favorite trees and woods; I bathe my heart once more in the moonlight; my ears seem to tell me again of all the melodies of morning; the babbling brook; the lowing herd; the cowbell's simple chime; the murmur of bees and insects; the choral concerts that ring through the woods; and I am there, young and blooming as ever, and what Beattie's 'Minstrel' saw and heard, I seem to see and hear once more."
Soothsayers and prophets have lost the credit they formerly enjoyed, and skulk in secret now where they once showed their faces in the blaze of day. So far there is manifest improvement. Some deemed them wondrous wise, and some believed them mad. Beattie's Minstrel. The wonderful influence of imagination in the cure of diseases is well known.
Such was his sensibility, and so much was he affected by pathetick poetry, that, when he was reading Dr. Beattie's Hermit in my presence, it brought tears into his eyes. Mr. Hoole told him, he was born in Moorfields, and had received part of his early instruction in Grub-street.
Davidson was the last to retreat and on mounting his horse to retire he received a mortal wound. The defeat of Davidson opened the passage of the river. All the American parties retreated, and on the same day the rest of the British army crossed at Beattie's ford.
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