subdue the inexorable temper of this tyrant; and the oppressed youth determined to leave his home, and try his fortune in the metropolis. This happened soon after the breaking out of the French war in 1744, when, having proceeded on his journey as far as Worcester, and finding there a hot press for soldiers, he did not relish the probability of a military attachment, but adopted what he conceived to be the least of two evils, and returned back again. For this self-defensive offence he was regularly and systematically thrashed every Tuesday and Saturday, the days of his exit and return, for nearly three years, when, unable any longer to endure his unmerited sufferings, he once more bid an eternal adieu to his unpropitious habitation, and arrived in London, March 25, 1748, where he soon found protectors in Mr. John Nourse, in the Strand, and Mr. Richard Manby, Ludgate-hill; the latter of whom he succeeded in business. The libraries of many eminent characters passed through his hands; and, being content with small profits, he soon found himself supported by a numerous and respectable set of friends, not one of whom ever quitted him. To do good, was his delight; to communicate happiness to all he could, was his unceasing aim. About 1782 he became totally blind; but was relieved from that malady by the judicious hand of baron de Wenzel, and enjoyed his eye-sight to the last. He was naturally of a weak habit of body; but his extreme temperance and uninterrupted complacency of mind, insured to him an almost constant flow of spirits. The following instance of his charity will prove the goodness of his heart: In the year 1800, on the failure of his less fortunate neighbour, he invited him to his house, and relinquished business, to give him the opportunity of keeping on the spot: his kind intentions met with success; and he frequently expressed the pleasure he felt at seeing his friend prosper under his roof.[1] He married, March 27, 1757, Anne daughter of Mr. Humphrey Gregory, of Twemloves,near Whitchurch, Shropshire, by whom he had fourteen children, nine of which died young. His wife died April 1, 1801. John, the eldest son, was educated at Oxford, and became vicar of Caddington, Bedfordshire; a minor canon of St. Paul's, London, and St. Peter's, Westminster; and one of the priests of his majesty's chapels-roval. The other son, Humphrey Gregory, was for a short time a bookseller, but retired from business. It may truly be said of Mr. John Pridden, that he was a most amiable and indulgent parent, a sincere friend, and, in the strictest sense, a truly honest man.
1807, April 9. William Kirk, a well-known pressman, drowned whilst in a state of intoxication, in the river Nen, near Northampton. It was supposed that he was pushed in the river by one of two prostitutes, with whom he was walking.
1807, April. Died, Mark Supple, many years known as a parliamentary reporter. In the vigour of his life his merit in that department was eminently conspicuous; "he was a fellow of infinite jest," and often kept the gallery "in a roar."[2]
1807, April 13. Died, Robert Heron, a writer of considerable erudition, and very extensive general information. For about eight years of his life he was much connected with the periodicals of London. In 1799 he conducted the political department of the Historical Magazine. At a subsequent period he was editor of the Agricultural Magazine. He was also a contributor to the old Universal Magazine, Monthly Magazine, Antijacobin Review, Oxford Review, and several other periodical publications. Mr. Heron possessed considerable ability as a parliamentary reporter; and in that capacity was successively engaged by the proprietors of the Oracle, the Porcupine, and the Morning Post. About 1802-3, he obtained the editorship, with a share, of the British Press and Globe, two papers then recently established by the booksellers. He held this concern only a fortnight. He next, for several months, conducted Lloyd's Evening Post. Through the influence of an under secretary of state, he received a respectable salary as the nominal editor of a French newspaper published in London. About the same time (1805) he undertook the management of a weekly newspaper, called the British Neptune. While he
- ↑ Mr. Joseph Brasbridge, author of an autobiography entitled the Trials of Experience, was the individual thus favoured by Mr. Pridden, at that time a silversmith. He died Feb. 28, 1832, in his 90th year, at Highgate, where he had retired upon an independency.
- ↑ Peter Finnerty used to tell the following story of Mark Supple. Mark was big-boned, loud-voiced, and had as much wit and fun as an Irish porter could carry— often more than he could carry himself, or knew what to do with. He took his wine frequently at Bellamy's, and then went up into the gallery, and reported like a gentleman and a man of genius. The members hardly knew their own speeches again, but they admired his free and bold manner of dressing them up. None of them ever went to the printing-office of the Morning Chronicle, to complain that the tall Irishman had given a lame sneaking version of their sentiments: they pocketed the affront of their metamorphosis, and fathered speeches they had never made. His way was the hyperbole; a strong view of orientalism, with a dash of the bogtrotter. His manner seemed to please, and he presumed upon it. One evening, as he sat at his post in the gallery, waiting the issues of things, and a hint to hang his own tropes and figures upon, a dead silence happened to prevail in the house. It was when Mr. Addington was speaker. The bold leader of the press-gang was never much on serious business bent, and at this time he was particularly full of meat and wine. Delighted, therefore, with the pause, but thinking that something might as well be going forward, he called out lustily, "A song from Mr. Speaker." Imagine Addington's long, prim, upright figure, his consternation, and utter want of preparation for, or of a clue to repel such an interruption of the rules and orders of parliament. The house was in a roar: Pitt, it is said, could hardly keep his seat for laughing. When the bustle and confusion were abated, the sergeant at arms went into the gallery to take the audacious culprit into custody, and indignantly desired to know who it was, but nobody would tell. Mark sat like a tower on the hindmost bench of the gallery, imperturably in his own gravity, and safe in the faith of the brotherhood of reporters, who alone were in the secret. At length, as the mace-bearer was making fruitless enquiries,and getting impatient, Supple pointed to a fat quaker who sat in the middle of the crowd, and nodded assent that he was the man. The quaker was, to his great surprise, taken into immediate custody; but, after a short altercation and some further explanation, he was released, and the hero of our story put in his place for an hour or two, but let off on an assurance of his contrition, and of showing less wit and more discretion for the future.
