Carlyle's "History of Friedrich II of Prussia" BOOK VIII.
Page: 24

case. Hesse, some domain Rath out at Konigsberg, concerned with
moneys, was found with account-books in a state of confusion, and
several thousands short, when the outcome was cleared up. What has
become of these thousands, Sir? Poor old Hesse could not tell:
"God is my witness, no penny of them eyer stuck to me,"
asseverated poor old Hesse; "but where they are--?
My account-books are in such a state;--alas, and my poor old
memory is not what it was!" They brought him to Berlin; in the end
they actually hanged the poor old soul;--and then afterwards in
his dusty lumber-rooms, hidden in pots, stuffed into this nook and
that, most or all of the money was found! [Forster (ii. 269), &c.
&c.] Date and document exist for all these cases, though my
Dryasdust gives none; and the cases are indubitable;
very rhadamanthine indeed. The soft quality of mercy,--ah, yes, it
is beautiful and blessed, when permissible (though
thrice-accursed, when not): but it is on the hard quality of
justice, first of all, that Empires are built up, and beneficent
and lasting things become achievable to mankind, in this world!--


SKIPPER JENKINS IN THE GULF OF FLORIDA.

A couple of weeks before Schlubhut's death, the English Newspapers
are somewhat astir,--in the way of narrative merely, as yet.
Ship Rebecca, Captain Robert Jenkins Master, has arrived in the
Port of London, with a strange story in her log-book. Of which,
after due sifting, this is accurately the substance:--

"LONDON, 23d-27th JUNE, 1731. Captain Jenkins left this Port with
the Rebecca, several months ago; sailed to Jamaica, for a cargo of
sugar. He took in his cargo at Jamaica; put to sea again,
6th April, 1731, and proceeded on the Voyage homewards;
with indifferent winds for the first fortnight. April 20th, with
no wind or none that would suit, he was hanging about in the
entrance of the Gulf of Florida, not far from the Havana,"--almost
too near it, I should think; but these baffling winds!--"not far
from the Havana, when a Spanish Guarda-Costa hove in sight;
came down on Jenkins, and furiously boarded him: 'Scoundrel, what
do YOU want; contrabanding in these seas? Jamaica, say you? Sugar?