The New Hampshire Gazette

By Capt. M'Leish who lately arrived at New-York in nine Weeks from London, we have the following, viz.

LONDON. October 14.

SIR,

To the CITIZEN.

I am credibly informed, that the French have been for six months past fortifying all their sea coast towns and ports in the Channel and Bay, on the likelihood and probability only of a visit from us. The thought was natural; and you see, according to the very vulgar saying, that a stitch in time saves nine; so their well-timed preparations have entirely baffled all our cruisers, and all our strength.

What an armament we sent out! The ordnance stores were almost exhausted to serve this expedition. We have embarked and debarked. We have lost two sailors, taken a few guns and men; and now, and now, according to the strange way of wording it in the papers, they are all arrived safe at Spithead. Safe and Sound has a very odd sound, Mr. Citizen, and I wish I had never heard it.

The campaign now may be looked on as over. The troops must soon go into winter quarters; and a million of money has been scattered only to raise a laugh among our visible enemies; and, perhaps, among ourselves too. I wish it may not.

Every year produces fresh hopes. Thus in the spring Lord Loudon, and Admiral Holbourn, were to have done Wonders—Kill them, as Captain Bobadill says. The Corsican expedition was to have been successful too—Kill them all; but this secret expedition was to have secretly destroyed the whole power of France—Kill them all; while only two sailors on our side have been killed, and none of our enemies, though we were all Jack Giant killers a month ago.

The dignity of the plan, laid by a Ministry in vogue with a precarious people, the great opinion of the chief Commander and the size of the armament, made every true Briton rejoice. Many an extraordinary battle has been confirmed in additional Bumpers, throughout this tippling Island; but Providence, I believe, would have been better pleased with private prayers, than such Bacchanalian Rites; and, except the Rev. Mr. Whitefield, and his Flock, I hear of no Divine, who has thrown even a hint into his sermon, or in the list of his addresses of troubles and adversities.

We are either the most pious or profligate of all people. True piety, like that of the Pharisees, is not to be seen of men. Perhaps we are such; if not, there is no other Name left for us, but what I have just mentioned.

The French, the Lutherans, sing Te Deum, and pray as publicly in their camps, as they exercise. A chaplain of an English regiment, is a Sine Cure of five shillings a day subsistence, and one shilling and eight pence arrears; and is to be bought (if you will give credit to News papers) every week in the year at Brokers shops, in the same manner as a late lottery ticket. A sine institution to a cure of the souls of above a thousand people, as most regiments have two battalions. Divine institutions indeed! As we are not heartily with the God of hosts and armies. The God of course is not with us. It is he, and he only, that can knap the bow, and break the spear asunder. Let us no longer trust to ourselves, but trust in him, and him only.

Sion College.

Yours, B.B.

P.S. We shall soon have the French account of the expedition. Among ourselves it appears ridiculous enough; but when larded over with their animadversions, how will it appear then? I almost dread the next mail, and wish I could, like certain animals, bury myself under ground, and sleep out the winter, that every thing may be forgot before I come into day-light again.

Adieu.