Sundry Articles belonging to the Estate of Samuel McIntire, deceased.—VIZ.
1 elegant BARREL ORGAN, 6 feet high, 10 barrels; 1 Wind Chest of an Organ;
ENCYCLOPEDIA BRITANNICA, complete;
Paladio's Architecture, best kind;
1 Ware's do.; 1 Paine's do.;
2 vols. French Architecture;
1 large Book Antient Statues, excellent;
Lock Hospital Collection of Music;
Handel's Messiah, in score;
Harmonia Sacra;
Magdalen Hymns; Massachusetts Compiler;
1 excellent toned SPINNET;
1 excellent VIOLIN and Case;
1 eight day CLOCK, Mahogany Case;
12 Prints of the Seasons;
1 book Drawings of Ships;
1 large Head of Washington;
Number of Busts of the Poets;
2 Figures of Hercules, 2 feet high;
1 Head of Franklin, and Pillar, for a Sign;
Composition Ornaments;
Number of Moulding Planes, and sundry other Articles. Apply to
ELIZABETH M'INTIRE, Adm'x.
or to SAMUEL F. M'INTIRE, Att'y.
N.B.—The Subscriber carries on CARVING as usual at the Shop of the deceased, in Summer-Street, where he will be glad to receive orders in that line. He returns thanks for past favors.
April 30 [1811]. SAMUEL F. M'INTIRE.
Many years ago there was published in Boston a small volume entitled "Eliza Wharton, the Coquette. By a Lady of Massachusetts." It consisted of a series of letters said to be founded on fact. A young woman died at the Bell Tavern in Danvers in 1788, whose gravestone a few years ago might be seen in the old Danvers (now Peabody) burial-ground. We copy from the "Salem Mercury" of July 29, 1788, the following account:—
Laſt Friday, a female ſtranger died at the Bell Tavern, in Danvers; and on Sunday her remains were decently interred. The circumstances relative to this woman are ſuch as excite curioſity and intereſt our feelings. She was brought to the Bell in a chaiſe, from Watertown, as ſhe ſaid, by a young man whom ſhe had engaged for that purpoſe. After ſhe had alighted, and taken a trunk with her into the houſe, the chaiſe immediately drove off. She remained at this inn till her death, in expectation of the arrival of her huſband, whom ſhe expected to come for her, and appeared anxious at his delay. She was averſe to being interrogated concerning herſelf or connexions; and kept much retired to her chamber, employed in needle-work, writing, &c. She ſaid, however, that ſhe came from Weſtfield, in Connecticut; that her parents lived in that State; that ſhe had been married only a few months; and, that her huſband's name was Thomas Walker;—but always carefully concealed her family name. Her linen was all marked E.W. About a fortnight before her death, ſhe was brought to bed of a lifeleſs child. When thoſe who attended her apprehended her fate, they aſked her, whether ſhe did not wiſh to ſee her friends: She anſwered, that ſhe was very deſirous of ſeeing them. It was propoſed that ſhe ſhould ſend for them; to which ſhe objected, hoping in a ſhort time to be able to go to them. From what ſhe ſaid, and from other circumſtances, it appeared probable to thoſe who attended her, that ſhe belonged to ſome country town in Connecticut: Her converſation, her writings and her manners, beſpoke the advantage of a reſpectable family & good education. Her perſon was agreeable; her deportment, amiable & engaging; and, though in a ſtate of anxiety and ſuſpenſe, ſhe preſerved a cheerfulneſs, which ſeemed to be not the effect of inſenſibility, but of a firm and patient temper. She was ſuppoſed to be about 35 years old. Copies of letters, of her writing, dated at Hartford, Springfield, and other places, were left among her things.—This account is given by the family in which ſhe reſided; and it is hoped the publication of it will be a means of her friends' aſcertaining her fate.
Elizabeth Whitman was the real name of the stranger, and the following was the inscription on the stone:—
"This humble ſtone, in Memory of Elizabeth Whitman, is inſcribed by her weeping friends, to whom she endeared herſelf by uncommon tenderneſs and affection. Endowed with ſuperior genius and acquirements, ſhe was ſtill more endeared by humility and benevolence. Let candour throw a veil over her frailities, for great was her charity to others.—She ſuſtained the laſt painful ſcene far from every friend, and exhibited an example of calm reſignation. Her departure was on the 25th of July, A.D. 1788, in the 37th year of her age, and the tears of ſtrangers watered her grave."