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 The Dumb Phil o so
 
 THE 
 
 IDWDfllB IP]IIIIIL(DB(DlPmiBIB8 
 
 OR 
 
 dSreat Xtitmv$ WionUtt 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 A FAITHFUL AND VERY SURPRISING ACCOUNT 
 
 HOW 
 
 DICKORY CRONKE, 
 
 A TINNER'S SON IN THE COUNTY OF CORNWALL, 
 
 WAS 
 
 BORN DUMB, AND CONTINUED SO FOR FIFTY- EIGHT YEARS; 
 
 AND 
 
 How some Days before he died, he came to his Speech : 
 WITH 
 
 MEMOIRS OF HIS LIFE, 
 
 AND THE MANNER OF HIS DEATH. 
 
 NON QUIS, SED QUID. 
 
 LONDON J 
 
 Printed for Tho : Bickerton, at the Crown in Paternoster Row, 
 
 1719. 
 
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 fteprinteD &g G. j&meetort, $bt. ittartin'* ©burcb "Xnrt>, ©bating Crow. 
 
 M.DCCC.XV1II. 
 
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 €fjc preface* 
 
 rE^lIE Formality of a Preface to this little Book might have been very 
 well omitted, if it were not to gratify the Curiosity of some inquisitive 
 People, who <I foresee) will be apt to make Objections against the Reality 
 of the Narrative. 
 
 Indeed, the Public!: has too often been imposed upon by fictitious Stories, 
 and some of a very late Date, so that I think myself obliged, by the usual 
 Respect which is paid to candid and impartial Readers, to acquaint them, 
 by way of Introduction, with what they are to expect, and what they 
 may depend upon, and yet with this Caution too : That 'tis an Indication 
 of ill Nature or ill Manners, if not both, to pry into a Secret that's 
 industriously conceaVd. 
 
 However that there may be nothing wanting on my part, I do hereby 
 assure the Reader, that the Papers from whence the following Sheets 
 were extracted are now in Town, in the Custody of a Person of 
 unquestionable Reputation; who, I'll be bold to say will not only be 
 ready, but proud to produce them upon a good Occasion, and that I 
 think is as much Satisfaction, as the Nature of this Case requires.
 
 IV PREFACE. 
 
 As to the Performance, it can signify little now to make an Apology 
 upon that Account ar,y farther than this; that if the Reader pleases he 
 may take notice that what he has now before him, was collected from a 
 large Bundle of Papers; most of which were writ in Short-hand, and 
 very ill digested; however this may be rely'd upon, that tho' the Language 
 is something altered, and now and then a word thrown in to help the 
 Expression; yet strict Care has been taken to speak the Author's Mind, 
 and keep as close as possible to the Meaning of the Original. 
 
 For the Design I think there's nothing need be said in Vindication of 
 that: Herts a Dumb Philosopher introduced to a wicked and degenerate 
 Generation, as a proper Emblem of Virtue and Morality, and if the 
 World could be persuaded to look upon him with Candor and Impartiality* 
 and then to copy after him; the Editor has gain' d his Ends, and would 
 think himself sufficiently recompene'dfor his preseiit Trouble.
 
 THE 
 
 mutrib piifloftoji&rr* 
 
 F the many strange and surprizing 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 Publick. 
 
 Dickory Cronlte, the Subject of the 
 following Narrative, was born at a little 
 Ha?nblet,i\e2Lr&t. Colomb, in Cornwall, 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 Neigh- 
 bourhood : His Father's chief Business was to work at the 
 Tin-Mines ; his Mother staid 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. 
 
 Twas upwards of three Years before it was discover'd 
 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 
 
 B
 
 ( G ) 
 
 greatest Perfection, lier Grief began to abate, and she re- 
 solv'd 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 
 dav gave some Instance of a ready Wit, 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 
 acquir'd to such Perfection, especially the latter, that he not 
 only taught his own Brothers and Sisters, but likewise seve- 
 ral young Men and Women in the Neighbourhood, which 
 often brought him in small Sums, which he always laid out 
 in such Necessaries he 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 toward the Support of himself and the 
 Family, but being of a tender Constitution, and often Sick, he 
 soon perceiv'd that sort of Business was too hard for him, so 
 was forc'd to return home, and continue in his former sta- 
 tion ; upon which he grew exceedingly melancholy, which 
 his Mother observing, 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 publick Want. 
 
 This kind Assurance from a Mother, whom he so dearly 
 lov'd, gave him some, tho' not an entire Satisfaction ; how-
 
 ( 7 ) 
 
 ever, he resolves to acquiesce under it 'till Providence should 
 order something* for him, more to his Content and Advantage, 
 which in a short time happen'd according to his Wish: The 
 manner thus, 
 
 One Mr. Owen Parry, a Welch Gentleman, of good 
 Repute, coming from Bristol to Padstow, a little Sea-Port 
 in the County of Comical, near the Place where Dickory 
 dwelt; hearing much of this Dumb Mail's Perfections, would 
 needs have him sent for ; and finding by his significant Ges- 
 tures 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 Pembroukeshire ,\\e would be kind to him, and take 
 care of him as long as he liv'd. 
 
 This kind and unexpected OJfcr was so welcome to poor 
 Dickory, that without any farther Consideration, he got a Pen 
 and Ink and writ a Note, and in a very handsome and sub- 
 missive manner, return 'd 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 gaiifd the Love of 
 the Family where he liv'd, but of every body round about him. 
 
 In this Station he continued 'till the Death of his Master, 
 which happen'd about twenty Years afterwards ; in all which 
 time, as has been eonfirm'd by several of the Family, he was 
 never observ'd to be any ways disguis'd by Drinking, or to 
 be guilty of any of the Follies, and Irregularities incident to
 
 ( 8 ) 
 
 Servants in Gentlemen's Houses : On the contrary, when he 
 had anv spare time, his constant Custom was to retire with 
 some o-ood Book into a private Place, within Call, and there 
 imploy himself in Reading-, and then writing down his own 
 Observations upon what he read. 
 
 After the Death of his Master, whose Loss afflicted him 
 to the last degree, one Mrs. Mary Mordant, a Gentlewoman 
 of great Virtue and Piety, and a very good Fortune, took 
 him into her Service, and carry 'd him with her, first, to the 
 Bath, and then to Bristol, where, after a lingering Distemper, 
 which continu'd for about four Years, she died likewise. 
 
 Upon the Loss of his Mistress, Dickory grew again 
 exceeding Melancholly 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 satisfy'd, and so determines to get together what he 
 had sav'd in his Service, and then to return to his Native 
 Country, and there finish his Life in Privacy and Retirement 
 
 Having been, as has been mention'd, about twenty four 
 Years a Servant, and having in the interim receiv'd 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, upward 
 of sixty Pounds ; This, thinks he, with prudent Management, 
 will he enough to support me as long as I live, and so Pit 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 Quay have liberty to meditate, and 
 make my melancholly Observations upon the several Occur* 
 rences of Human Life. 
 
 This Resolution prevail'd so far, that no time was let 
 slip to get every thing in a Readiness to go with the first Ship.
 
 ( 9 ) 
 
 As to his Money, he always kept that lock'd 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 ofem very good ones, together with his other Equipage, 
 he gotpack'd up, that nothing might be wanting against the 
 first Opportunity. 
 
 In a few days he hoard of a Vessel bound to Padstow, 
 the very Port he wish'd 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 
 enquire after the State of his Family : It was some time before 
 he could get any manner of Information of 'em, 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 liv'd at a little Town, call'd St. Helens, about 
 ten Miles farther 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 to exercise the Philosopher, and to 
 demonstrate himself, both a wise and a good Man : All these 
 things, (thinks he) arc 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. Helens 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 it is 
 not very material. 'Tis enough for the present Purpose, that 
 Dichory soon recollected his Sister, and *hc him ; and after a
 
 ( 10 ) 
 
 great many en clearing' Tokens of Love and Tenderness, he wrote 
 to her, telling her, that he believ'd Providence had bestowed 
 upon him as much as would support him as long as he liv'd, 
 and that if she thought proper, he would come and spend the 
 Remainder of his days with her. 
 
 The good Woman no sooner read his Proposal, but ac- 
 cepted 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 every thing easy, and that he should be 
 welcome upon his own Terms to stay with her as long as he 
 pleas'd. 
 
 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. Helens, where accord- 
 ing to his own Proposal, he continu'd to the Day of his Death, 
 which happen'd upon the 29th of May 1718, about the same 
 Hour in which he was born. 
 
 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 towards 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 'tis suppos'd lie 
 compos'd very many Meditations. The chief Part of his 
 Sustenance was Milk with a little Bread boiPd 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
 
 ( 11 ) 
 
 at Night lie would only have a pretty large Piece of Bread, 
 and drink a Draught of Spring-water ; and after this Method 
 he liv'd during the whole time he was at St. Helens. 'Tis 
 observ'd 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 Constitution, but of a Mind compos'd and 
 calm, and entirely free from the ordinary Disturbances of 
 human Life. He never gave the least Signs of Complaint or 
 Dissatisfaction at any thing, 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 
 significant Signs, how scandalous and ridiculous they made 
 themselves, and against the next time he met them, would be 
 sure to have a Paper ready writ, wherein he would represent 
 the dangerous Consequences that usually attended it. 
 
 Idleness was his utter Aversion, and if at any time he had 
 finish VI the Business of the Day, and was grown weary of read- 
 ing and writing, in which he daily spent six Hours atleast, he'd 
 certainly find something either within Doors or without to 
 employ himself. 
 
 Much might be said both with regard to the wise and 
 regular Management, and the prudent Methods he took to 
 spend his time well towards the declension of his Life ; but 
 I shall only observe in the general, that he was a Person 
 of great Wisdom and Sagacity : he understood Nature 
 beyond the ordinary Capacity ; and if he had had a Com- 
 petence of Learning suitable to his Genius, neither this, nor 
 the former Ages would have produe'd a better Philosopher, or 
 a greater Man.
 
 ( is ) 
 
 ] come next to speak of the manner of his Death, and the 
 Consequences thereof, which are indeed very surprizing, 
 and perhaps not altogether nnicorthy a general Observation. 
 I shall relate them as briefly as I can, and leave every one to 
 believe or disbelieve as he thinks proper. 
 
 Upon the 26th of May 1718, according to his usual 
 Method, about four in the Afternoon, he went out to take his 
 Evening Walk but before he could reach the place he intended, 
 he was seiz'd with an Apoplectick Fit, which only gave him 
 liberty to sit down under a Tree, where in an Instant he was 
 depriv'd of all manner of Sence and Motion, and so he con- 
 tinued, as appears by his own Confession afterwards, for 
 more than fourteen Hours. 
 
 His Sister, who knew how exact he was in all his Methods, 
 finding him stay a considerable time beyond the usual Hour, 
 concludes that some Misfortune must needs have happened to 
 him, or he would certainly have been at home before ; In short 
 she went immediately to all the Places he was wont to frequent 
 but nothing could be heard or seen of him 'till the next Morn- 
 ing, when a young Man, as he was going to work discover'd him 
 and went home and told his Sister, that her Brother lay in 
 such a place, under a Tree, and, as he believed, had been 
 Robb'd and Murdered. 
 
 The poor Woman, who had all Night been under the 
 most dreadful Apprehensions, was now frighted and confounded 
 to the last degree ; however, recollecting herself, and finding 
 there was no Remedy, she got two or three of her Neighbours, 
 to bear her Company, and so hasten'd with the young Man, 
 to the Tree, where she found her Brother lying in the same 
 Posture that he had described.
 
 ( 13 ) 
 
 The dismal Object at first View startled and surpriz'd 
 every body present, and filPd. 'em full of different Notions 
 and Conjectures : But some of the Company going nearer to 
 him, and finding that he had lost nothing, and that there 
 were no Marks of any Violence to be discovered about him, 
 they concluded that it must be an Apoplectick, or some other 
 sudden Fit that had surpris'd him in his Walk ; upon which 
 his Sister, and the rest began to feel his Rands and Face, 
 and observing that he was still warm, and that there wag 
 some Symptoms of Life yet remaining, they concluded that 
 the best way was to carry him home to Bed, which was accord* 
 ingly done with the utmost Expedition. 
 
 When they had got him into the Bed, nothing was 
 omitted that they could think of, to bring him to 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 recover'd to the great astonishment 
 of every body about him ; he was able to look up, and to 
 make a Sign to his Sister to bring him a Cup of Water. 
 
 After he had drank the Water, he soon perceiv'd that 
 all his Faculties were return 'd 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. 
 
 His Sister observing him to look earnestly upon the Com- 
 pany, as if he had something extraordinary to communicate 
 to them, fetch'd him a Pen and Ink, and a Sheet of Paper, 
 which, after a short Pause he took, and writ as follows :
 
 ( 14 ) 
 
 Dear Sister, 
 
 1 HAVE now no need of Pen, Ink, and Paper to tell you my 
 meaning : I find the Strings that bound up my Tongue, and hinder'd 
 me from speaking, are unlos'd, and I have Words to express myself as 
 freely and distinctly as any other Person. From whence this strange 
 and unexpected Event should proceed, 1 must not pretend to say any 
 further than this, that 'tis 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. 
 
 The poor Woman, tho' extremely startled at what her 
 Brother had writ, yet took care to conceal it from the Neigh- 
 bours, who she knew, as well as she, must be mightily sur- 
 priz'd at a thing so utterly unexpected. Says she, My Brother 
 desires to be alone ; I believe he may have something in his 
 Mind that disturbs him: Upon which the Neighbours took 
 their Leave, and returned home, and his Sister shut the Door, 
 and left him alone to his private Contemplations. 
 
 After the Company were withdrawn, he fell into a sound 
 Sleep, which lasted from two 'till Six, and his Sister being 
 apprehensive of the return of his Fit, came to his Bed-side, 
 and asking softly if he wanted any thing, he turn'd about to 
 her, and spoke to this effect, 
 
 Dear Sister, 
 
 YOU see me, not only recover'd out of a terrible Fit, but likewise that 
 I have the Liberty of Speech ; a Blessing that I have been depriv'd 
 of almost sixty Years, and I am satisfy'd you are sincerely Joyful to 
 find me in the State I now am ; but alas ! 'tis but a mistaken Kindness : 
 These are things but of short Duration, and if they were to continue 
 for a hundred Years longer, I can't see how I should be any ways 
 the better.
 
 ( 15 ) 
 
 1 know the World too well to be fond of it, and am fully salisfy'd, 
 that the difference between a long and a short Life is insignificant, 
 especially when I consider the Accidents and Company I am to encounter : 
 Do but look seriously and impartially upon the astonishing Notion of 
 Time and Eternity, what an immense deal has run out already, and 
 how infinite 'tis still in the future ; do but seriously and deliberately 
 consider this, and you'll find, upon the whole, that three Days and three 
 Ages of Life, come much to the same Measure and Reckoning. 
 
 As soon as he had ended his Discourse upon the Vanity 
 and Uncertainty of human Life, he look'd stedfastly upon her. 
 
 Sister, 
 
 SAYS he, I conjure you not to be disturb'd at what I am going to 
 tell you ; which you will undoubtedly find to be true in every particular. 
 1 perceive my glass is run, and I have now no more to do in this World 
 but to take my Leave of it; for to morrow about this time, my Speech 
 will be again taken from me, and in a short time my Fit will return ; 
 and the next Day, which I understand is the Day in which I came 
 into this troublesome World, I shall exchange it for another, where, 
 for the future, I shall for ever be free from all manner of Sin and 
 Sufferings. 
 
 The good Woman would have made him a Reply, but 
 he prevented her, by telling her, 
 
 He had no time to hearken to unnecessary Complaints or Animad- 
 versions. I have a great many things in my Mind that require a speedy 
 and serious consideration. The time I have to stay is but short, and 
 I have a great deal of important Business to do in it : Time and Death 
 are both in my View, and seem both to call aloud to me to make no 
 delay. I beg of you therefore, not to disquiet yourself or me: What 
 must be, must be, the Decrees of Providence are eternal and unalterable; 
 why then should we torment ourselves about that which we cannot 
 remedy.
 
 ( 16 ) 
 
 J must confess, my dear Sister, I owe you many Obliga- 
 tions, for your exemplary Goodness to me, and I do solemnly 
 assure you, I shall retain the Sence of them to the last Moment : 
 All that I have noiv to request of you is, that I may be alone for 
 this Night •• / have it in my Thoughts to leave some short 
 Observations behind me ; and likewise to discover some Things 
 of great Weight which have been revealed to me, which may 
 perhaps be of some use hereafter to you and your Friends : 
 What Credit they may meet with, I cant say, but depend 
 the Consequence, according to their respective Periods, aill 
 account for them, and vindicate them against the Supposition 
 of Falsity or mere Suggestion. Upon this, his Sister left him 
 'till about four in the Mornino- when coming to his Bed-side 
 to know if he wanted any thing, and how he had rested, he 
 made her this Answer : I have been taking a cursory. View of 
 my Life ; and tho' > I find myself exceedingly deficient in several 
 Particulars, yet I bless God, / cannot find I have any just 
 grounds to suspect my Pardon : In short, says he, I have spent 
 this Night with more inward Pleasure and true Satisfaction 
 than ever I spent a Night through the whole Course of my 
 Life. 
 
 After he had concluded what he had to say upon the 
 Satisfaction that attended an innocent and well-spent Life, 
 and observ'd what a mighty Consolation it was to Persons, 
 not only under the Apprehension, but even in the very Agonies 
 of Death it self. He desir'd her to bring him his usual Cup 
 of Water, and then to help him on with his Clothes, that 
 lie might sit up, and so be in a better Posture to take his 
 leave of her and her Friends. 
 
 When she had taken him up, and plac'd him at a Table 
 where he usually sate, he desir'd her to bring him his Box 
 of Papers, and after he had collected those he intended
 
 ( 17 ) 
 
 should be preserved, he order'd her to bring a Candle that 
 he might see the rest burnt. The good Woman seem'd at 
 first to oppose the burning of his Papers, 'till he told her 
 they were only useless Trifles, some unfinished Observations 
 which he had made in his youthful Days, and were nut fit 
 to be seen by her, or any body that should come after him. 
 
 After he had seen his Papers burnt, and plac'd the rest 
 in their proper Order, and had likewise settled all his other 
 Affairs, which was only fit to be done between himself and 
 his Sister ; he desir'd her to call two or three of the most 
 reputable Neighbours, not only to be Witnesses to his Will, 
 but likewise to hear what he had further to communicate 
 before the return of his Fit, which he expected very speedily. 
 
 His Sister, who had beforehand acquainted two or three 
 of her Confidants with all that had happen'd, was very much 
 rejoye'd to hear hex Brother make so unexpected a Concession, 
 and accordingly, without any Delay or Hesitation, went 
 directly into the Neighbourhood, and brought home her two 
 select Friends, upon whose Secresy and Sincerity, she knew she 
 might depend upon all Accounts. 
 
 In her absence he felt several Symptoms of the approach 
 of his Fit, which made him a little uneasy, lest it should 
 entirely seize him before he had perfected his Will, but that 
 Apprehension was quickly remov'd by her speedy Return. 
 After she had introduced her Friends into his Chamber, he 
 proceeds to express himself in the following manner. 
 
 Dear Sister, 
 
 YOU now see your Brother upon the brink of Eternity; and as the 
 Words of dying Persons are commonly the most regarded, and make 
 deepest Impressions, I cannot suspect, but you'll sutler the few 1 am
 
 ( 18 ) 
 
 going about to say, to have always some Place in your Thoughts, that 
 they may be ready for you to make use of upon any Occasion. 
 
 Don't be fond of any thing on this side of Eternity, or suffer your 
 Interest to incline you to break your Word, quit your Modesty, or 
 to do any thing that will not bear the Light, and look the World in 
 the Face ; for, be assur'd of this, the Person that values the Virtue of 
 his Mind, and the Dignity of his Reason, is always easy and well 
 fortified, both against Death and Misfortune, and is perfectly indifferent 
 about the Length and Shortness of his Life : Such a one is sollicitous 
 about nothing but his own Conduct ; and for fear he should be deficient 
 in the Duties of Religion and the respective Functions of Reason and 
 Prudence. 
 
 Always go the nearest way to work ; now the nearest way through 
 all the Business of human Life are the Paths of Religion and Honesty, 
 and keeping those as directly as you can, you avoid all the dangerous 
 Precipices that often lie in the Road, and sometimes block up the 
 Passage entirely. 
 
 Remember that Life was but lent at first, and that the Remainder 
 is more than you have reason to expect, and consequently ought to be 
 manag'd with more than ordinary Diligence. A wise Man spends every 
 day as if it were his last ; his Hour-glass is always in his Hand, and 
 he is never guilty of Sluggishness or Insincerity. 
 
 He was about to proceed, when a sudden Symptom of 
 the return of his Fit put him in mind that it was time 
 to get his Will witnessed, which was no sooner done, but he 
 took it up and gave his Sister ; telling her, that tho' all he 
 had was hers of right, yet he thought it proper to prevent, 
 even a possibility of a Dispute, to write down his Mind in the 
 Nature of a Will, wherein I have given you, says he, the little 
 that I have left, except my Books and Papers, which, as soon 
 as I am dead, I desire may be delivered to Mr. Anthony 
 Barlow, a near Relation of my worthy Master, Mr. Owen 
 Parry.
 
 ( 19 ) 
 
 This Mr. Anthony Barloiv was an old contemplative 
 Welch Gentleman, who being under some Difficulties in his 
 own Country, was fore'd to come into Cornwall, and take 
 sanctuary among the Tinners. Die/wry, who, tlio' he kept 
 himself as retir'd as possible, happen'd to meet him one day 
 upon his Walk, and presently remember'd, that he was the 
 very Person that us'd frequently to come to visit his Master, 
 whilst he liv'd in Pembrookshire, and so went to him, and 
 by Signs made him understand who he was. 
 
 The old Gentleman, tho' at first surpriz'd at this unex- 
 pected Interview, soon recollected, that he had formerly seen 
 at Mr. Parry's a Dumb Man, which they used to call the 
 Dumb Philosopher, so concludes immediately that conse- 
 quently, this must be he. In short, they soon made them- 
 selves known to each other; and from that time contracted a 
 strict Friendship, and a Correspondence by Letters, which 
 for the future they mutually manag'd with the greatest Exact- 
 ness and Familiarity. 
 
 But to leave this as a Matter not much material, and 
 return to our Narative ; by this time, Hickory's Speecli began 
 to faulter, which his Sister observing, put him in mind, that 
 he would do well to make some Declaration of his Faith 
 and Principles of Religion, because some Reflections had 
 been made upon him, upon the account of his Neglect, or 
 rather his Refusal to appear at any Place of Public Worship. 
 
 Dear Sister, 
 
 SAYS he, You observe very well, and 1 could wish the continuance of 
 my Speech for a few Moments, that 1 might make an ample Declaration 
 upon that Account : But I find that cannot be, my Speech is leaving me 
 so fast, that I can only tell you, that I have always Liv'd, and now I 
 die an unworthy Member of the ancient Catholic and Apostolick Church ;
 
 ( 20 ) 
 
 and as to my Faith and Principles, I refer you to my Papers, which i 
 hope will, in some measure, vindicate me against the Reflections you 
 mention. 
 
 He had hardly finisb'd his Discourse to his Sister and her 
 two Friends, and given some short Directions relating to his 
 Burial, but his Speech left him ; and what makes the thing 
 the more remarkable, it went away in Appearance without 
 giving him any sort of Pain or Uneasiness. 
 
 When he perceiv'd that his Speech was entirely vanish 'd, 
 and that he was again in his original State of Dumbness, he 
 took his Pen as formerly, and wrote to his Sister, signifying, 
 TJiat whereas the sudden loss of his Speech had deprived him of 
 the Opportunity to speak to her and her Friends what he 
 intended, he icould leave it for them in Writing ; and so desir'd 
 he might not be disturb'd till the return of his Fit, which he 
 expected in six Hours at farthest : According to his Desire they 
 all left him, and then with the greatest Resignation imaginable, 
 he writ down a long Epistle to his Sister. 
 
 Dichory composed some Meditations and Obervations 
 on the conduct of Human Life in general, with his Faith 
 and Principles of Religion, as also Prophetical Remarks, 
 relative to the Affairs of Europe and Great Britain, more 
 particularly from 1720 to 1729 ; which he either writ or 
 extracted from his papers in the interim between the loss of 
 his Speech, and the return of his Fits. Upon the return of 
 his Fit, he made Signs to be put to Bed ; which was no sooner 
 done, than he was seized with extreme Agonies, which he 
 bore up under with the greatest steadfastness , and after a 
 severe Conflict, that lasted near eight hours, he Expired.
 
 ( 21 ) 
 
 We find a similar case of a person recovering his speech 
 after being dumb many years, thus recorded in the 11th 
 Volume of the Philosophical Transactions : 
 
 "Henry Axford, son of Henry Axford, of the Devizes in Wilt- 
 shire, an attorney, when a child, was subject to convulsion fits, which 
 followed him pretty closely till he was about 25 years of age. After this 
 his health became extremely good. At about 25 years old, going with 
 some ladies to see Longleat in Wiltshire, the seat of Lord Viscount Wey- 
 mouth, he perceived an hoarseness coming upon him, which was after- 
 wards attended with all the symptoms of a common cold, till, in about six 
 days after his first seizure he became quite speechless, not only loosing the 
 articulate use of his tongue, but being scarcely able to make the least noise 
 with it. His cold quickly went off in the usual manner, and he grew 
 perfectly well, as well in health as ever he had been in his life; but he 
 still continued absolutely speechless. He had advice from all the neigh- 
 bouring physicians, but to no purpose; for nothing they did for him 
 could restore him to the former use of his tongue, he continued in this 
 dumb way about four years; till one day in July, 1741, being at Stoke 
 in the above mentioned county, he got very much in liquor, so much, 
 that, upon his return home at night, to the Devizes, he fell from his horse 
 three or four times, and was at last taken up by a neighbour, and put to 
 bed on the road. He soon fell asleep ; when, as he tells the story him- 
 self, dreaming that he was fallen into a furnace of boiling wort, it put 
 him into so great an agony and fright, that struggling with all his 
 might to call out for help, he actually did call out aloud, and recovered 
 the use of his tongue from that moment as effectually as ever he had it in 
 his life, without the least hoarseness remaining or alteration in the old 
 sound of his voice, as near as can be discerned. He was not wsed to drink 
 hard ; he is still alive, continues in good health, and has the use of his 
 tongue as perfectly as ever he had it in his life." 
 
 D
 
 ( 2S ) 
 Elegy in Memory ofDickory Cronke, the Dumb Philosopher. 
 
 TF virtuous Actions Emulation raise, 
 
 Then this good Man deseives immoital Praise: 
 "When Nature such Extensive Wisdom lent, 
 She sure design'd him for our President; 
 Such great Endowments in a Man unknown, 
 Declare the Blessings were not al! his own; 
 Put rather granted for a time to show, 
 What the wise hand of Providence can do. 
 
 In him we may a bright Example see 
 Of Native Justice and Morality, 
 A Mind not subject to the Frowns of Fate, 
 But calm and easy in a servile state. 
 
 He always kept a guard upon his Will, 
 And fear'd no harm, because he knew no ill; 
 A decent Posture and an humble Mien, 
 In ev'ry Action of his Life were seen ; 
 Thro' all the diff'rent Stages that he went, 
 He still appear'd both wise and diligent. 
 Firm to his Word, and punctual to his Trust, 
 Sagacious, Frugal, Affable, and Just. 
 
 No gainful Views his bounded hopes could sway, 
 No wanton Thought led his chast Soul astray : 
 In short, his Thoughts and Actions both declare, 
 Nature design'd him her Philosopher, 
 That all Mankind by his Example taught. 
 Might learn to live, and manage ev'ry Thought. 
 
 Oh ! could my Muse the wond'rous Subject grace, 
 And from his Youth his virtnous Actions trace : 
 Could 1 in just and equal Numbers tell, 
 How well he liv'd, and how devoutly fell, 
 I boldly might your strict Attention claim, 
 And bid you learn, and copy-out the Man. •/. Jr. 
 
 Exeter Coll. 
 Av*. 25th. 1719.
 
 ( 23 ) 
 
 The Occasion of litis Epitaph was briefly thus: A Gentleman, who had heard 
 much in Commendation of this Dumb Man, coming accidentally to 
 the Church-Yard where he was burfd, and finding his Grave 
 without a Tomb-Stone, or any manner of Memorandum of his 
 Death, he pull'd out his Pencil, and writ asfolloics. 
 
 Pauper ubique jacet. 
 
 N 1 
 
 'EAR to this lonely unfrequented Place, 
 Mix'd with the Common Dust, neglected lies : 
 The Man that ev'ry Muse should strive to grace, 
 And all the World should for his Virtue prize : 
 Stop, gentle Passenger, and drop a Tear; 
 Truth, Justice, Wisdom, all lie buried here. 
 
 What tho' he wants a Monumental Stone; 
 The common Pomp of ev'ry Fool or Knave: 
 Those Vertues which thro' all his Actions shone, 
 Proclaim his Worth, and praise him in the Grave: 
 His Merits will a bright Example give, 
 Which shall both Time and Envy too out-live. 
 
 Oh ! had I Power but equal to my Mind, 
 A decent Tomb should soon this Place adorn 
 With this Inscription ; Loe here lies confin'd 
 A wond'rous Man, altho' obscurely born ; 
 A Man, tho' Dumb, yet he was Natures Care, 
 Who mark'd him out her own Philosopher. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
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