Thursday last brought the Melancholy news of Mr. Clevelands death on board the Atlas, the Ship Mrs. Hastings goes to England in, he was only going as far as the Cape for his health. He was Chief of Boglypore and had by his humanity and mild treatment so tamed and subdued the wild Mountaineers of that part of India, that thousands and thousands who were before a lawless race and hardly kept in awe by Milatary force, would have sacrificed their lives for him, or any undertaking of his: they absolutely adored him, he was not only the most absolute and powerful of Monarchs, but quite a God amongst them; and all this brought about by the mildest, gentlest, usage, instead of thinking of nothing but how much money he could extort, which had from the practice of former residents, he spent not only the whole Salary, but all his private fortune, in establishing Manufactory’s, building Hospitals and Alms-houses, cloathing and feeding them and teaching all who were able and willing, Milatary exercise, these he gave a uniform and the greatest punishment he could inflict was taking away a Soldiers Coat and not allowing him to inrole with the rest. In his own Palace he lived with all the plain liberal hospitality possible; but without any ostentation and useless extravagance, he was an exceeding good scholar and polite, agreeable companion, this is the character given him universally. He was only twenty nine when he died. It is impossible to describe the universal regret his death occasioned.