Cambridge.
_Rev. John Cawley_ (Vol. ix., p. 247.).--In reply to the inquiry of C. T.
R., What is the authority for stating that the Rev. John Cawley, rector of
Didcot, was a son of Cawley the regicide? I send you the following extract
from Wood's _Athenae_ (Bliss's edition), vol. iv. col. 580.:
"John Cawley, son of Will. Cawley of the city of Chichester, gent.,
was, by the endeavours of his father, made Fellow of All Souls' College
(from that of Magdalen) by the visitors appointed by Parliament, anno
1649; took the degrees in arts, that of Master being completed in 1654;
and whether he became a preacher soon after, without any orders
conferred on him by a bishop, I cannot tell. Sure I am, that after his
Majesty's restoration, he became a great loyalist, disowned the former
actions of his father, who had been one of the judges of King Charles
I.; when he was tryed for his life by a pretended court of justice,
rayled at him (being then living in a skulking condition beyond sea);
and took all opportunities to free himself from having any hand or
anything to do in the times of usurpation. About which time, having
married one of the daughters of Mr. Pollard of Newnham Courtney, he
became rector of Dedcot, or Dudcot, in Berkshire; rector of Henley in
Oxfordshire; and in the beginning of March, 1666, Archdeacon of
Lincoln."
[Greek: Halieus.]
Dublin.
_New Zealander and Westminster Bridge_ (Vol. ix., pp. 74. 159.).--Your
correspondents have traced this celebrated passage to a letter from Horace
Walpole to Sir H. Mann, and to passages in poems by Mrs. Barbauld and Kirke
White. It appears to me that the following extract from the Preface to
P. B. Shelley's _Peter Bell the Third_, has more resemblance to it. It is
addressed to Moore:
"Hoping that the immortality which you have given to the Fudges you
will receive from them; and in the firm expectation, that when London
shall be an habitation of bitterns, when St. Paul's and Westminster
Abbey shall stand shapeless and nameless ruins, in the midst of an
unpeopled marsh; when the piers of Westminster Bridge shall become the
nuclei of islets of reeds and osiers, and cast the jagged shadows of
their broken arches on the solitary stream; some transatlantic
commentator will be weighing in the scales of some new and now
unimagined system of criticism, the respective merits of the Bells, and
the Fudges, and their historians."