"Their hellish breast being set on fire, Even with the fire of Hell, Nor Love, nor charms, nor clemency, Can their base malice quell." * * * * * And so on through three columns, and then comes the CONCLUSION. "Let all that openly profess, The ways of Christ our Lord, Not spare to tell how much such things Are by their souls abhor'd. "Let every child of God now cry, To the eternal one, That George our sovereign lord and king May ne'er be overcome. "That all his Foes may lick the Dust, And melt like Wax away, That joy and peace and righteousness May flourish in his day." The proposed expedition, it is well known, never landed in England. The combined fleet escaped an engagement, and the transports were wrecked and scattered by a storm in the English Channel. THE SCOTTISH REBELLION. "A short history of the Grand Rebellion in Scotland, or a brief account of the rise and progress of Charles Stuart, the young pretender, and his associates; and his seasonable defeat by His Majesty's Forces under the command of His Royal Highness the Duke of Cumberland." This remarkable production is printed on one side of a single sheet of paper, seven by twelve, in verse, three columns. It begins,-- "From Rome the proud Pretender's come Flush'd with conceits of Britain's Crown, Imagining, poor silly Lad, Those glorious Kingdoms to have had, And all the churches of the Lord, They've roll'd in seas of Purple Blood; His grand commission from the Pope Was Fire, Faggot, Sword, and Rope, Or Boots, or Scourges, Cord and Whips, For all poor vile Hereticks." The poet proceeds with the landing in Scotland, where the Popish priest demised to him the land; the joining of the disaffected, the robbing of the people:-- "They range about and seek for prey Nor spare aught comes in their way; They murder, steal, rob and destroy, And many a goodly Town annoy." Flushed with victory, they move toward England, "and now to London drive along." "Which brave Prince William quickly hears And without any Dread or Fears, Pursues the Rebels in full chase, And lo, they fly before his Grace, Who still pursues and overtakes, And many a Highland captive makes. * * * * * The rest now fly, won't stand to Fight, But back to Scotland make their flight. And there like Beasts who've furious grown They range about from Town to Town. * * * * *