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7Fr.2-/. 2./2- 


Harvard College 

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By Exchange 


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7/; ■ / 













A^utbor of tht AmtricoH Preceptor j Toung Ladji Auidence^ tS*i?. 

Ill I I *■ ir' Ti 

<* CaTo cultivated £lo(^oencc, as a necf Mary 'mean for defending 
the Rights of the People, and for cnforcuig good Counicls.** 




Crop : 


•Ami. •••••••••••»» 


EdUa/T758'»2/-l.l i. 


FEB 28 1942 

' District of Massachusetts, to wit : 

"DE IT REMEMBERED, that on the twentieth day of 
L. S. November, A. D.<i8io, and in the thirty-fifth year of the 

Independence of thcf'^Jnited States of America, Caleb 
BiNGHAic of the faid Diiln<^, has^ depoiited in this office the title 
of a Book, the right whertbf 'he 'eUitm as Author, in the words 
following, to wit : *^ The Columbian Orator : containing a varie- 
ty^ef original and feletSbcd pieces ; together witlrrates; calaHa^d to 
improve youth and others in the ornamental and ufcful art of elo^ 
quence. By-CAXCB Bingham, a. m. author cf the American Pre- 
ceptor, Young Lady's Accidence, &c. * CatO'Cultivated eloquence, 
as a necelTary mean for defending the.rights Of the people, and for 
cnforcing-good ceuofeTs ' ' ''^R«Uin." 

In conformity to the A'St of the Congrcfs of the United States, 
entitled, ** An ASt for the encouragement of learning, by fecuring 
the copies of Maps, Charts and Books, to the Authors and Propri- 
etors of fuch Copies, during the times therein mentioned;** and al- 
fo to an AAentkled, ^\u Adk fupplementary to an- A<fl, entitled} 
An A<St for the encouragement of learning, by fecuring the copies 
of Maps, Charts and Books, to the Authors ajidProprietors of fuch 
copies during the times the«et^i> mentioned ; and extending the 
' benefits thereof to the Artrof Defigning, Engraving, and Etching 
' -Hiftorjcdl and other prittts/* 

Cleri of the DistrUt of Massacbuietts, 


NorpyiTHSTANDINGdii multiplicHj of School- Books, 
now in n/e, it has been often fuggefted^ that a SeUEHon, 
caiculated particularly. f6r> Dialogue and Declamation^ 
^vould he i^ extenftve ut^f in ourfeminarics. 

The art of Oratory needs no encomium. To cultivate 
its rudiments^ and diffufe its J^irit among the Youth of, 
' America, is the defign of this Boffk 

Of the many pieces which this volume contains, three 
only are to he found in any publication of the kind. A 
layge- proportion is entirely original. To thofe^ who have 
affifted him in this part, ihe author returns his warntejl 

7%*^ COLUMBIAN ORATOR i/ defigned for a 
Second Fart to the AMERICAN PRECEPTOR ^ 

for this reafon, no pieces are inferted from that book.. 

As no advantage could arife from a \inethodical ar^ 
rangement, the Author has preferred variety to system. 
In: his choice of materials^ k has been his ohjeEi to fde5l 
fitch as fboidd infpire the pupil with the ardor of elo- 
quence, and the love of virtue^ He hasfpared no pains 
to render the Work, in every re/pefl, worthy of the gen* 
erous patronage, which a Kbercd public have befiowed on 
his former publications. 

BosTOM, May 17, 1797^* 


G£KrCRA&< Tnilruaions for S^akth^ 
Oration on Eloqueace ... Perkik« 

Speech in Con^refs, 1789 - • - Wasbinotow 
Speech of a Roman Geoeraf - - - P. Emiliui 
Exhortation on Temperance in Pleafu re • Blai* 

Klah's Plea for Benjamin, before Jofeph - - Pbjlo 

a in behalf of Thomas Miiir ... M\n% 
On the ftarry HcATens - - - - Hkrvet 

l^aper, a Poe«^- - - - - - Prakklin 

Speech before >tbe Roman Senate - - - Catct 
rft^Iogue between DnciliQ, Savage»and Mercury Lv^TtftoN 
Speech of an Indian Chief - - - 

On the creation of the World - - - Blair 

Lines fpoken by t fittfe Boy > - - - Ever err 
Speech in the Britifli Parliament, 1766 ' - Piit 

Scene from the Farce of Lethe • - - Gar rick 
Eulogy on Dr. FranklU* - - - • Faociirt 
Epilogue to. Addi(bn*8 Gato^ • • . . 
SelfConceiVfta Addrefs by a fmalt ^ay 
Dialogue bet vren Howard and. LeAcr ... 

Chrift*s Crucifixion - - - - CoMBratAKD 

The wonders of Nature ' - - - - Hervet 

Dialogue on Pliyfiognomy - - - - 

Station at the feflival of Gratitude - - Car mot 
Addrefs to the Prefideittof the ^Uaited States Adet 

' Prtfidcnt's Anfwer - - - • » WXsbikoton 
'The 0ppre(Bv« Landlord^ 9 dialogue • 
Speech in the Br itif(i Pa rliafacnt, 1770: Mansfield 

On the D<iy of Judgment - - • . Daviis^ 

Chrift triumphant over the apofVate Angch - - Miltom 
Staves in Barbary, A Drama in two A6t»'v . Everett 
Speech in the Britifli ParHament, 1770" - Pitt 

Plea before a Roman Court • - Socrates 

dialogue on Cowardice and K.ttaver^ ^ • • . • 
Speech in the Britiih Parliament 'I • • Sberi2xan 

Extract from an Oration again ft.^G^iiinc • Cj-cero 

Defcriptioo of the firA^AmericanGongrers - Bar tow. 
Speech of a French GeaenHo his Army Buona parti 

Rtfle£tiqns over the Grave of a Young Man Hervey 

S^ene from^he Drama of **Mofc»in the Bulrudies" H. Moore 
Speech of a Roman Gcnersil - • C. Cahsius 

•Speech in the Britl(h Parliament, 1784. • E^xine 

Addrefs to the people of the U. States Washikoton- 

Dialogue on the Choice o^ulinefs for life 
Speech of a FrenchGener^l - ^ £uomafa«ti 

A a 
















speech ia the Briti (It Parliament, 1777- ' • Pitt iji 

Dialogue between a Scboolinafter and School-Committee 158 

.Speech in the British Parliament, 1770 <• •> Pitt 165 

On the general Judgment-Day ... Dwioht 169 

On the Works of Creation aftd Providence Qbrvbt. X74 

Speech in the Britiih Parliament • • Fox. \^% 

The Conjurer, a Dialogue, ... Everett 175. 

Speech in the Brttifli Parliament, i 775 • Pitt 1S4, 

Speech of the Caledonian General - - Galoacuus 185 

Modern Education, a Dialogue .... 189 

On the ^xiftenceof God, aSermon. - •. Maxct. ipi 

The Dignity of Human Nature - • -. Burobs 203 

Infernal Conference - - • -. Cumberland 205 

Speech in the Britiih Parliament, 1777 • - Pixr 214 

On the Day of Judgment - - - - You no 2x7 

The Dillipated Oxford Student Altered from Burnet 219 

Speech in. Congrefa, on the Briti(h Treaty • Ames 230 

Oration on Independence, July 4, 179^,. - Blakb 234 

General dcfcription of Ametrica, A I^otm - Evejibtt 237 

Dialogue between a Matter and Slayc -. - AiiuN 240 

Spetcb in the Iriih, Parliament - - O'Connor 243 

Scenefrom the Tragedy of i'amerlane <- Rows 248 

Speech in the Britifh Parliament •, -> - Barrb 252 

1 he Laft D^y - - * - ^ ^ Everett 254 

Dialogue on Loquacity • -it - - 257 

American Sages - « - -t Barlow 26i 

Speech in the Britifli Ps^rliament, 1,777 • Pitt 262 

Scene from the Tragedy of Cato - - Addison 265 

Oration, delivered at Boftun, July 4. 1794 Phillips 268 

Dialogue between a White Man and an Indian. Everett 26(9 

Oration, pronounced .at Boflgn, Jiily 4, 179)^ . Lathrop 272 

Dialogue between Edward. and Harry - Everett 275 

David and Goliath • • - - • H. MooRt t*^ 

Oration on the Powers. of Eloquence - . • . 281 

Dialogue on Civilization - -> - - - • 289L 

Oration on the N^auumiflion of Slaves - - Miller^ 293^ 

A Forcnfic Difpute " • . " - " Everett 295 

Oraiiyn, delivtrcjj at Boftoni March 5tb, 1780 Masqm 35^0 




&£N£RAL Directions for Speaking; £x^ 



i^T^HE beil judges among, the ancients have repro^ 
Jr iented Pronunciation, , which they likewife called 
Action, as the principal part of an orator's province i 
from whence be is chiefly to expeA the art 
of perfuaflpn. When Cicero,, in the perfon of Craflus, 
has largely and elegantly difcourfed upon all the other 
parts of oratory,, coming at laft to fpeak of this, he fays, 
«< All the former have their eflfe^ as they are pronoun- 
ced. It is the aAion alone which governs in fpeaking y 
without which the beft orator is of no value ; and is 
often defeated by one, in other refpeAs, much his in- 
feriour." And he lets us know, that Demofihenes was^^ 
of the fame opinion ; who, when he was aiked what 
was the principal thing in oratory, replied, A£tion ^ 
and being aiked again a fecond and a third time, what 
was next confiderable, he ftiU made the fame anfwer^ 


Andy indeed, if he.had not }ud^d thb faighlf necef- 
" iaiy for an orator, he- nfoold fcarcety have taken ftop 
much jpains in corre^ng thbfe natural defers, under 
which he labored at firft, in order to acquire it^ For 
he had both a weak voice, and likewife an impediment 
in his fpeech, lb that he could not pronounce diftin^ly 
fome particular letters. The former of which defe£b 
he*^ conquered, partly by fpeaking as loud as he could / 
upon -the ihore, when the fea roared and was boifter- 
oos \ ana partly,, by pronouncing long periods as he 
walked up hill; both of whfoh. met hods contributed 
to ftrengthen his voice. And he found means to ren- ■ 
der his pronunciation more clear and articulate, by the 
help of fome- little ilones put under his tongue. Nor 
was hd le& careful in endeavoring to gain the habit 
of a becoming and detent gefture \ for Which purpofe 
he ufed to pronounce his difcourfes alone before a large 
glafs. And beeaufe he had an. ill cuftom of drawings 
np his ihoulders when he fpoke^-to amend that, he 
ufed to place them under a fword, whichr^hung over > 
him with the point downward. 

Such pains did this prince of the Gl'ecian.orators take- 
to remove thofe difiB^eulties, which would have been 
liifficient to difcourage an inferiour, and lefs afpiring 
genius. And to how great a perfeAion he arrived in 
his a(tiotii, under all thefe difadvantages^ by his ittde<i- 
fatigable diligence and appUl^ation, is evident firom the 
confeffion of his great adver&ry and rival in oratory, 
Efchines ; who, when he could not bear the difgrace of 
being worfted by Dtmofthenes in the caule of Gtefiphon^ 
retired to Rhodes. And being delired by the inhab- 
itants, he recited to them his own oration upon that 
Occa^m ; the next day they requeued of him to let them 
hear that of Diemoftbenes ^ which, having pronounced 
in a moft graceful manner, to the admiration of all who 
were prefcnt,. •^ Mow much more (fays he}, would you 
have wondered, if ydti had heard him fpcak it himfelf !** 

We might add to thefe authorities the judgment of 
^iotffian I who ia jrs, that <« It is not of fo much mo- 


m^nt wliat our compofieions are, m how thcj att pro-^ 
noiHiced } fince it is the watnncr of the ddnreiy^ bf 
which the audience is mawtdJ* 

The truth of this fentiosent of the andents, coocem- 
ing the power and efficacy of pronimciationy might be 
proved from many inftances : but one or two may here 
iuffice* Hortenfius, a cotemporary with Cicevoi and 
while living, neitt to him in reputation as an orator, 
w^s highly applauded for his aAion. Bi|t his oration^ 
after his death, as Qmntilian tells us, did not appeal^ 
anfwerabte to his charaAer; from whence he juftly 
c<»iclu<tes, there muft have^ been fomethiog pleafin^ 
when he fpoke, by which he gained his char»ftef^ 
which was k^ in reading them. 

But perhaps there is fcarcely a more oonficierabie in* 
fiance of this than in Cicero him)iif* After the deatll 
•f Pompey> when Cefar had j^tea the gCKfemnseni 
into his own hands, many of his acquaintance interce^ 
died with him in behalf of their relations and friends^ 
who had been of the contrary party in the late wars* 
Among othens, Cicero folieited ior his friend JUgarius } 
whi^b^ Tuherp un4^ftap4i[|ig,^ who^4>we4^ •I4garitt$ i 
grudge, oppofed } and undertook to reprefent ham to. 
Cefar as unworthy of his mercy, Cefar h}mfelf was 
prejudiced againft Ligarius ; and therefc^e, when the 
caufe was to come before him, be (aid, << We may 
venture to hear Cicer<^ drf play his elo<pjence4 for 'i 
Icnow the perfoa he pleads for to be ap ill isanr an4 
my enemy." 

9ut, however, in the cpurfe of his cnration, Ci<^erol<» 
wrought upon his pafiSbqns, that, by theirequent altera^ 
tion in bis countenance, the emotions of bis mind wet* 
very conipicttous. And whei^ be came to toncl> upoi% 
^battle of Phar&lia, which had given C^fiir theem** 
pire of the world,^he reprefented it in &ch a mi^tving 
9nd lively manner, that Qefitr could no longer contauii 
himfelf,. but was ^ronv^ into fu^ a fit of fliivering,^ 
that he dropped the papers which he held in his hand» 
Thi^ K«» tite mor^ c^wirkahlei^beaHiiJs Ccfer was hi^aa* 


felf one of the greateft orators of that age ; Jcnew all 
the arts of addtefs^ and avenuea to the palEonsi atidi 
confequently was better prepared to guard againft them* 

fittt neither his IkiH, nor refolution of mind, was of 
fufficient force agakiA the power of oratqry; but the 
conqueror of the world became a conqueft tathe«charms> 
of Cicero's eloquence; fo that contrary to his iftten-^ 
tioD, he pardoned Ligarius. Now that oration is^ftiiW 
extantj and appears exceedingly well calculated *to^ 
touch the foft and tender pafBons and fprings of the.' 
foul y but we believe it can fcarcely be difcernible to 
any, in reading it, how it ihould have had fo furprifing 
an t&&\ which muft therefore have been chiefly ow-f 
ing to the wonderful addreli of the fpeaker.- 

The more natural the pronunciation is, the more 
jnoving it will be ; fince the perfection of art confifl^ 
in its neareft refemblance to nature. And therefore 
it is not without good reafon; that the ancients make 
it one qualification of an orator, that .he he a good aidxi ^ 
becaufe a perfon of this chara^ei* wilt "make the caufe 
he efpouies his own ; and the more fenfibly he is 
touched with it himfelf, the more natural will be his 
aAion^; jand of courfe, the more eafily will he affeft. 
others. Cicera £iys, << certaia that. truth (t^ 
which he means nature) m every thing excels imita- 
tion.; ^t if that were fufficient of itfdf in a£lion, we 
flieutd^haite no occafion for art.^ 

Ia his opinion therefore (and who was ever a better 
judge ?) art, in this cafe, as well as in many others, if 
wdl'^iajiaged, will affift and improv&nature. But this 
is notall *, for fonietimes we fitidthe force of it fo great 
and powerfa^^hat,' where k is wholly counterfeit, it 
will- for the time work the fame effisA as if «it were 
founded in truth* This is. well known to- thofe who 
hzvfi been conveHant with the reprefentations of the 
theatre. In tragedies, though we are fenfible that ev* 
ery thing we fee and hear is counterfeit ; yet fuch is 
the power of aftion, that we are oftentimes affe^ed hf 
'^ 'n the fame manner as if it were all reality«^ 


. Aoger and refentment at the appearance of cruelty^ 
concern and folicitude for dtftrefled virtue, rife in our 
breads; and tears are ^extorted froo) us for oppreiTcd 
iQnt>cence: thongh at the fame time, perhaps, we are 
ready to laqgh at ourfelves far being thus decoyed. If 
art then has fo great an^ influence^ uponr us,^ when fup« 
ported hf fancf and imagination only, hoi«r powerful 
muQ: be the eWc& of a juft and lively reprefentatien of 
what we know to be true. 

How agreeable is it both to nature and reafon, that a 
warmth of expreffion and vehemency of motion (hould 
rife In proportion to the importance^f the fubjeft, and 
cdncern of the fpeaker^- wilf further appear by looking 
back a Htdeinto the more early and fimple ages of the 
world. ; For the higher we go, the more we {hall find 
of both. The Romans had a very great talent this 
way, and the Greeks a. greater. The eaflem nations 
excelled in it, and particularly the Hebrews. 

Nothing can equal the ftrength and vivacity of the 
figures they employed in their difcourfci and the vcrjf 
actions they ufcd, to exprefs their fentiments ; fuch as 
putting afhes on their heads, and tearing their garmentSt 
and covering themselves with fackcloth under any deep 
diiVrefs and forrow of mind. And hence, no doubt, 
arofe thofe furprifing effe6h of eloquence, which we 
never experience now. 

And what is faid here, with refped to the action of 
the eaftern nations, was in a good meafure cuftomarj 
among the Greeks and' Romans ; if not entirely of the 
fame kind, yet perhaps as vehement and exprefiive. 
They did not think language of itfelf fufficient to ex- 
prefs the height of their praffions, unlefs enforced by 
uncommon motions and geiiures. Thus, when Achil- 
les had driven the Trojans into their city with the 
greateft precipitation and terror, and only HeAor ven- 
tured to tarry without the gates to engage him. Homer 
reprefents*both king Priam and his queen under the 
higheft confternation for the danger of their fon. And 
therefore, in order to prevail with him to come into the 


city an! not €ght with AchHles, they not only entraSt 
him from the valU in the moft tender and moving lan- 
guage imaginable $ but they tei^r oft their grey locks 
with their lian4s» and adjure him to comply with their 

The poet knew very weQ, that no words of them^ 
felres coubd repreiem thofe ai|;oiiies of mind he endeaar- 
oured to convey, onlefs heightened by the idea of (uch 
aSions as wefe expreffive of the deepeft fiMTOw.*^ In 
one of Cicero's orations, he does not ilick to argue in 
this n^nner with his adverfafy. *^ Would you talk thus 
(fays he) if you were ferious ? Would you, who arc 
wont to difplay your eloquence fo warmly in the dan-» 
gcr of others, 9& ib coldly in your own f Where is that 
tontem,. that ardour, which uied to extort pity even 
from children ? Here is no emotion either of xnind or 
body ; neither the forehead ftruck, nor the thigh ; nor 
fo much as a ftamp of the foot. Therefore, you have 
been ib far from inflaming our minds, that you have 
. fcarcely kept us awake.'* 

The ancients had perfons, whoie proper bufinefs it 
was to teath them how to regulate and manage their 
voice ; and others, who infiru^ed them in the whole 
art of proilunciation« both as to their voice and geftures* 
Thefe Uttet were generally taken from the theatre^ 
being (bme eminent experienced aftors. But though 
they made ufe of a£lors to lnftru£t their youth in form- 
ing their fpeech and geftures } yet the adtion of an of^ 
ator was very ditferent from that of the theatre. 

Cicero very plainly reprefents thb di&indkion, in the 
words of CrafiTus ^ when fpeaking of orators, he fays, 
** The motions cnF the body ought to be fuited to the 
«xpreiSons, not in a^ theatrical way» mimicking the 
words by particular gefticulations ; but in a manner 
expreflive of the general fen^ ; with a fedate and manly 
inflexion of the iides ; not taken from the ftage anii 
a£tors,Wt from the exercife of^rmsandtbt pofeftra.'' 
Jind Quintilian fays to the fame pm-pofe, ^ Every 
-^fture and motion of the cona^diana is not to be imi^ 


tatedj nor to the fame degree." They thought ih6 
action of the theatre too light and extravagant for the 
imitation of an orator ; and therefore, though they 
employed aftors to inform young perfons in the firft 
rudiments, yet they were afterwards fcnt to fchools, 
defigned on purpofe to teach them a decent and grace- 
ful management of their bodies. 

Being' thus far prepared, they were afterwards fent 
to the fchools of the rhetoricians. And here, as their 
buiinefs was to cultivate their ftyle, and gain the whole 
art of eloquence, fo particularly to acquire a juft and 
accurate pronunciation by thofe exercifes, in which for 
that end they were conftantly employed. Nor, after 
all this pains and indu(try, did they yet think them- 
felves fufficiently qualified to take upon them the char- 
a6:er of orators. But it was their conftant cudohi to 
get together fome of their friends and acquaintance^ 
who were proper judges of fuch pefformances, and de- 
claim before them in private. 

The bufinefs of thefe perfons was to make obferva- 
tions both on their language and pronunciation. And 
they were allowed the greateft freedom to take notice 
of any thing thought to be amifs, either as to inaccuracy 
of method, impropriety of ftyle, or indecency of their 
voice or anions. This gave them an opportunity to 
correal any fuch defeats at firft, before they became 
habitual. What efFeds might not juftly be expefted 
from fuch an infticution ? Perfons trained up in this 
manner, with all thofe advantages, joined to a good 
natural genius, could not fail of making very complet,c 
orators. Though even after they came to appear in 
public, they did not lay afide the cuftom of declaiming. 

The influence of founds, either to raife or allay our 
paffions, is evident from mufic. And certainly the 
harmony of a fine difcourfe, well and gracefully pro- 
nounced, is as capable of moving us, if not in a way 
fo violent and ecftatic, yet not lefs powerful, and more 
agreeable to our rational faculties. As perfons are dif- 
ferently afiefted when they fpeak, fo they naturally 


alter the tone of their voice, though they do not attend 
to it. It rifes, finks, and has various ii^eftions given 
it, according to the prefent ftate and difpofition of the 
mind. When the mind is calm and fedate, the voice is 
moderate and even ; when the former is dejeftcd with 
forrow, the latter is4anguid4 and when that is inflam- 
ed by paifion, this is elevated. 

It is the orator's bufinefs, therefore, to follow nature, 
and to endeavor that the tone of his voice appear natural 
and unafftfted. And for this end, he muft take care to 
fuit it to the nature of the fubjeft 5 but ftill fo as to be 
always grave and decent. Some pei^ons continue a 
difcourfe in fuch.a low and drawling manner, that they 
can fcarcely be heard "by their audience. Othen again 
hurry on in fo loud and boifterous a manner, as if they 
imagined their hearers were deaf. But all the mufic 
and harmony of voice lies between thefe extremes. 

jPerbaps nothing is of more importance to a fpeaker, 
than a proper attention to accent, emphafis and ca- 
dence. Every word in our language, of more than one 
fyllable, has at leaft:tOne accented iyllable. This fylla- 
ble ought to be rightly known, and the word fliould be 
pronounced by the fpeaker in the fame manner as he 
would pronounce it in ordinary converfation. By em- 
phafis, we diftinguifh thofe words in a fentence which 
we efteem the moft important, by laying a greater 
ftrefs of voice upon tliem than we do upon the others. 
And it is furprifing to obferve how the fenfe of a 
phrafe may be altered by varying the emphafis. The 
following e5Kimple will ferve as an illuf^ration. 

Thisfliort tjueftion, « Will^you ride ^to town to- 
^ay ?" may be underftood in four different ways, and, 
confequently, may receive four diflFerent anfwers, ac- 
cording to the placing of the emphafis. 

If it be pronounced thus; Will you ride to town 
to-day ? the anfwer may properly be, No; I fliall fend 
^ly fon. If thus ; Will you ride tO' town to-day ? 
Anfwer, No ; I intend to walk. Will you ride to 


town to-day? No; I (hall ride into the country. Will 
you ride to town to-day ^ No ; but I fhall to-morrow. 

This (hows how neceilary it is that a fpeaker ihould 
know how to place his emphafis. And the only rule 
for this is that he Audy to attain a juft conception of 
the force and fpirit of the fentimenis which he delivers. 
There is as great a difference between one who lays 
his emphafis properly, and one who pays no regard to 
it, or places it wrong, as there is between one who 
plays on an inflrument with a mafterly hand, and the 
mo ft bungling performer. 

Cadence is the reverfe of emphafis. It is a depref^ 
iion or lowering of the voice ; and commonly falls up- 
on the laft fyllabie in a fentence. It is varied howev- 
er, according to the fenfe. When a queftion is afked, 
it ieldom falls upon the laft word % and many fcnten- 
ces recjuire no cadence at all. 

Every perfon who fpeaks in public, (hould endeavor, 
if he can, to fill the place where he fpeaks. But ftill 
he ought to be careful not to exceed the natural key 
of his voice. If he does, it will neither be foft nor 
aoreeable ; but either harfh and rough, or too (hrill and 
fqiieaking. Befides, he will not be able to give every 
fyllabie its full and diftin£l: found ; which will render 
what he fays obfcure, and difficult to be underftood. 
He (liould therefore take care to keep his voice within 
reach, (b a» to have it under management, that he may 
raifs or fink it, or give it any infledlioh he thinks prop- 
er ; which it will not be in his power to do, if he put 
a force upon it, and ftrain it beyond its natural tone. 

The like caution is to be ufed againft the contrary 
extreme, that the voice be not fuffered to fink too low. 
This will give the fpeaker pain in raifing it again to its 
proper pitch, and be no lefs offenfive to the hearers. 
The medium between thefe two is a moderate and 
even voice. But this is not the fame in all j that which 
is moderate in one wpuld be high in another. Every- 
perfon therefore muft regulate it by the natural key of 
his own voice. A calm and fedate voicie is generally 


beft ; as a moderate found is moft pleafing to the ear, 
if it be dear and diftinA. But this equality of the 
voice muft alfo be accompanied with a variety : other- 
wife there can be no harmony ; fince all harmony con- 
fifts in variety. 

Nothing is lefs pleafing than a difcourfe pronounced 
throughout in one continued tone of the voice, with- 
out any alteration, rhe equality, therefore, we are 
here fpeaking of, admits a variety of infleftions and 
changes within the fame pitch. And when that is al- 
tered, the gradations, whether higher or ijwer, fhould 
be fo gentle and regular as to preferve a due propor- 
tion of the parts, and harmony of the whole ; which 
cannot be done, when the voice is fuJdenly varied with 
too great a diftindlion. And therefore it ihould move 
from one key to another, fo as rather to glide like a 
gentle Aream, than pour down like a rapid torrent, as 
an ingenious writer has well exprefied it. 

But an affected variety, ill placed, is as difagreeable 
to a judicious audience, as the want of it, where the 
fubjeifl: requires it. We may find feme perfons, in pro- 
nouncing a grave and plain difcourfe, afFe«5t as many 
different tones, and variations of their voice, as if they 
were acting a comedy ; which is doubtlefs a very great 
impropriety. But the orator's province is not barely 
to apply to tiie mind, but likewife to the paffions ; 
which require a great variety of the voice, high or 
low, vehement or languid, according to the nature of 
the paffions he dcfigns to affe6l. So that for an orator 
always to ufe the fame tone or degree of his voice, and 
expeft to anfwer all his views by it, would be much the 
fame thing as if a phyfician fhould propofe to cure all 
di (tempers by one medicine. And as a perfect mono- 
tony is always unpleafant> fo it can never be necefTary 
in any difcourfe. 

That fome fentences ought to be pronounced fafler 
than others is very manifefl. Gay and fprightly ideas 
"^ould not only be exprefTed louder, but alfo quicker 

n fuch as are Oielancholy. And when we prefs an 


opponent) the voice fhould be briik. But to hurry on 
in a precipitant manner without paufing, till (topped for 
want of breath} is certainly a very great fault. This 
deftroys not only the-neceirary<liftinAion between fen- 
tence and fentence, but likewife between the feveral 
words of the fame fentence ; by which mean, all the 
grace of fpeaking is loft^ and in a great meafure^ the 
advantage of hearing. 

Young perfons are very liable to this, efpecially at 
iirft fetting out. and it often arifes from diffidence. 
They are jealous of their performances, and the fuc- 
cefs they may have in fpeaking, which gives them sT 
pain till it is over ; and this puts them into a hurry of 
mind, which incapacitates them from governing- their 
voice, and keeping it under that due regulation which 
perhaps they propofed to themfelves before they began 
to fpeak. 

And as a precipitant and hafty pronunciation is cul- 
pable, fo likewife on the other hand, it is a fault to 
fpeak too flow. This feems to argue a heavincfs in 
the fpeaker. And as he appears cool himfelfy he can 
never cxpeft to warm his hearers, and excite their af? 
feftions. When not only every word, but every fyl- 
lable is drawn out to too great a length, the ideas do 
not come faft enough to keep up the attention without 
much uneaiinefs. Now, to avoid either of the two ex- 
tremes laft mentioned, the voice ought to be fedate and 
diftindt. And in order to render it j^iftinft it is nc- 
ccflary, not only that each word and fyllable fliould 
have its juft and full found, both as to time and accent^ 
but likewife that every fentence, and part of a fentence^ 
fhould be feparated by its proper paufe. 

This is more eafy to be done in reading, from the 
affidance of the points ; but it is no lefs to be attended 
to in fpeaking, if we would pronounce iii a diAinift 
and graceful manner. For every one (liould (peak in 
the fame manner as he ought to read, if he could ai^- 
rive at that exaftnefs. Now the common rule given 
in paqfing is^ that we ftop our voice at a comma till we 
B z 


can tell one, at a femicolon two, at a colon three, and 
at a full period four. And as thefe points are cither 
accommodated to the feveral parts of the fame fcntence, 
as the firft three ; or different fentences, as the laft; 
this occafions the different length of the paufe, by 
which either the dependence of what precedes upon 
that which follows, or its diilin^ion from it is repre- 

It is not in our power to give ourfelves what quaU 
ities of the voice we pleafe } but only to make the 
beft ufe we can of what nature has beftowed upon us. 
However, feveral defefts of the voice are capable of 
being helped by care and proper means 5 as, on the 
other hand, the beft voice may be greatly hurt by ill 
management and indifcretion. Temperance is a great 
prefervative of the voice, and all excefs is highly pre- 
judicial to it. The voice muft neceflarily fuffer, if the 
organs of fpeech have not their proper tone. A flrong 
voice is very ferviceable to an orator, becaufe, if he 
want fome other advantages, he is, however, capable to 
make himfelf heard. And if at any time he is forced 
to flrain it, he is in lefs danger of its failing him be- 
fore he has finiftied his difcourfe. 

But he, who has a weak voice, fliould be very care- 
ful not to drain it, efpecially at firft. He ought to be- 
gin flow, and rife gradually to fuch a pitch as the key 
of his voice will well carry him, without being obliged 
to fink again .afterwards. Frequent inflections of 
the voice will likewife be of fome affiftance to him. 
But efpecially he fhould take care to fpeak deliberately, 
and eafe his voice, by allowing due time for refpirti- 
tion at ail the proper paufes. It is an extreme much 
lefs inconvenient for fuch a perfon rather to fpeak too 
flow, than too fefl. But this defed of a weak voice is 
fometimes capable of being helped by the ufe of proper 
methods \ as is evident from the inftance of Demof^ 
thenes, before mentioned. 

Some perfons, either from want of due care in their, 
education at firfl, or from inadvertency and negligence 


afterwards, run Into a very irregular and confufed man- 
of exprt fling their words ; either by mirplacing the 
accent> confounding the found of the letters, or hud- 
dling the fjllables one upon another fo as to render 
what they fay often unintelligible. Indeed, fometimes 
this arifes from a natural defeA, as in the cafe of De- 
moAhenes ; who found a method to rectify that, as 
well as the weaknefs of his voice. But in faults of 
this kind, which proceed from habit, doubt lefs the 
moft likely way to mend them is to fpeak deliberately. 


BY this is meant, a fuitable conformity of the mo- 
tions of the countenance, and feveral parts of the body 
in fpeaking, to the fubje£):- matter of the difcourfe. It 
is not agreed among the learned, whether voice or ges- 
ture has the greater influence upon us. But ns the 
latter zfft&s us by the eye as the former does by the 
ear, gefture in the nature of it feems to have this advan- 
tage, that it conveys the impreffion more fpeedily to 
the mind ; for the fight is the quickeft of all our fenfes. 
Nor is its influence lefs upon our pafflons ; nay, in 
fome inflances, it appears to aft more'^powerfully. A 
cafl of the eye will expre& defire in as moving a man- 
ner as the foftefl language ; and a diflbrent motion of 
it, refentment. 

To wring the hands, tear the hair, or ftrike the 
breafl, are all flrong indications of forrow. And he, 
who claps his hand to his fword, throws us into a 
greater panic than one who only threatens to kill us. 
Nor is it in fome refpefts lefs various and extenfive 
language. Cicero tells us, he often diverted himfelf 
by trying this with Rofcius the comedian ^ who could 
exprefs a fentence as many ways by his geftures, as he 
himfelf could by words. And fome dramas, calfed pan- 
tomimes, have been csurried on wholly by muifs, who 


have performed every part by gefturcs only, without 
words, in a way very intelligible. 

But with rcfpeft to oratory, gefture may very prop- 
erly be called the fecond part of pronunciation ; in 
which, as th^ voice fliould be fuited to the imprefiions 
it receives from the mind, ib the feveral motions of the 
body ought to be accqmmodated to the various tones 
and inflexions of the voice. When ^he voice is even 
and moderate, little gefture is required : and nothing 
is more unnatural than violent motion, in difcourfing 
upon ordinary and familiar fubjefh. The motions of 
the body fhould rife therefore in proportion to the ve- 
hemence and energy of the expreflion, as the natural 
and genuine cfFeft of it. 

But as gefture is very different and various as to the 
manner of it, which depends upon the decent condu(fl 
of feveral parts of the body, it will not be amifs to con- 
ftder more particularly the proper management of each 
of thofe parts. Now all gefture is either natural, or 
from imitation. By natural gefture, we mean fuch ac- 
tions and motions of the body, as naturally accompany 
our words, as thefe do the impreffions of our mind. 
And thefe either refpeA the whole body, or fome par- 
ticular part of it. 

The fpeaker (hould not long continue ftanding in 
the fame pofition,like a ftatue, but be conftantly chang- 
ing, though the motion be very moderate. There 
ought to be no appearance of ftiffaefs, but a certain 
eafe and pliablenefs, naturally fuiting itfelf to every 
expreftion ; by which means, when a greater degree 
of motion is neceiTary, it will appear lefs fudden and 
vehement : for as the railing, finking, and various ivf 
fledions of the voice muft be gradualjTo likewife ihould 
the motions of the body. It is only on fome particu- 
lar occafions that a hafty vehemence and impetuoiity 
is proper in either cafe. 

As to the feveral parts of the body, the head is th« 
moft confiderable. To lift it up too high has the air of ar- 
rogance and pride i tt) ftretch it out toofar, or throw 1l 


back, looks clowniih and unmannerly; to hang it down- 
wards on the breaA, (hows an unmanly bafhfolnefs and 
want of fpirit : and to fufifer it to lean on either fhouU 
der, argues both floth and indolence. Wherefore, in 
calm and fedate difcourfe^ it ought to keep its natural 
ftate, an upright pofture. However, it fhould not be 
long without motion, nor yet always moving *, but 
gently turn fometimes on one fide, and fometimes on 
the other, as occafion requires, that the voice may be 
heard by all who are prefent ; and then return again 
to its natural pofition. It fhould always accompany 
the other adlions of the body, and turn on the fame 
fide with them ; except when avcriion to any thing is 
exprefled ; which is done by ftretching out the right 
hand, and turning the head to the left. 

But it is the countenance that chiefly reprcfents both 
the paflions and difpofitions of the mind. By this we 
cxprefs love, hatred, joy, forrow, modefty, and confi- 
dence : by this we fupplicate, threaten, fooihc, invite, 
forbid, confent, or refufe ; and all this without fpeaking. 
Nay, from hence we form a judgment not only of a per- 
fon's prefent temper, but of his capacity and natural 
difpofition. And therefore it is common to fay, fuch 
a one has a " promifing countenance," or that " he 
promifes little by his countenance." It is true, this is 
no certain rule of judging 5 nor is it in the power of 
any one to alter the natural make of his countenance. 

But the feveral parts of the face bear their part, and 
contribute to the proper and decent motion of the 
whole. In a calm and fedate difcourfe, all the features 
retain their natural (late, and iituation. In forrow, 
the forehead and eyebrows lour, and the cheeks hang 
down. But in exprelGons of joy and cheerfulnefs, 
the forehead and eyebrows arc expanded, the cheeks 
contracted, and the corners of the mouth drawn up- 
wards. Anger and refentment contraft the forehead, 
draw the brows together, and thruft out the lips. And 
terror elevates both the brows and forfehead. As thefe 


are the natural figns of fuch paffions> the orator fhouU 
endeavor to conform to them. 

But as the eyes are moft adive and fignificant^ it is 
the advice of Cicero that the greateft care (hould be tak- 
en in their management. And he gives this reafon for it. 
«* Becaufe other parts of the countenance have but few 
motions ; whereas all the pafHons of the foul are ex- 
prefled in the eyes, by fo many different anions ;^ which 
cannot pofBbly be reprcfented by any geftures of the> 
body, if the eyes are kept in a fixed pofture." Com- 
mon experience does in a great me^furc confirm the 
truth of this obfervation. We readily gucfs at a per- 
fon's intention, or how he is affefted to us by his eyes. 
And any fudden change or emotion of the mind is pr^^ 
fently followed by an alteration in the look. 

In fpeaking, therefore, upon pleafant and delightful 
fuhjefts, the eyes are brifk and cheerful : as, on the 
contrary, they fink and are languid in delivering any 
thing melancholy and forrowful. This is fo agreeable 
to nature, that before a perfon fpeaks, we are prepared 
with the expeftation of one or the other from his dif- 
ferent afpe<5l. So like wife in anger, a certain vehe- 
mence and intenfenefs appears in the eyes, which, for 
want of proper words to exprefs it by, we endeavor to 
reprefent by metaphors taken from fire, the moft violent 
and rapid element ; and fay in fuch cafes, the eyes 
Iparkle, burn, or are inflamed. In expreflions of ha- 
tred or deteftation, it is natural to alter the looks, ei- 
ther by turning the eyes afide, or downwards. 

Indeed, the eyes are fometimes turned downwards 
upon other occafions, as to exprefs modefty. And if at 
any time a particular objcft be addreffed, whatever it 
be, the eyes fliould be turned that way. And there- 
fore Philoftratus very defervedly ridicules a certain 
rhetorician as guilty of a folecifm in gefture, who, upon 
faying, O Jupiter ! turned his eyes downwards : and 
when he faid, O Earth ! looked upward. A ftaring 
look has the appearance of giddinefs and want of 
♦■■*>--nght : and to contracl the eyes gives fufpicion of 


csaft and deiign. A fixed look may be occafioned from 
intenfenefs of thought ; but at the fame time (bows a 
difregard to the audience ; and a too quick and wan- 
dering motion of th%eyes denotes kvity and wauton- 
nefs. A j^entle and moderate motion of the eyes is, 
therefore, in common, moft fuitable ; always direfted 
to fome of the audience, and gradually turning, from 
fide to fide with an air of refpedl and modefty, and 
looking them decently in the face, as in common dif* 
courfe. Such a behavior will of courfe draw an atten- 

As to the other parts of the body diftin^fl from the 
bead, the fhoulders ought not to be elevated^ for this 
is not only in itfelf indecent ; but it likewife contrafts 
the neck, and hinders the propter motion of the head. 
Nor, on the other hand, fhould they be drawn down 
and depreir^d ; becaufe this occafians a flifFaefs botli 
to the neck and the whole body. Their natural poC- 
ture theref >re is beft, as being moft eafy and graceful. 
To fhrug the fhoulders has an abjedl and fervile air ; 
and frequently to heave them upwards and downwards 
is a very difagVeeable fight. A contmued motion of 
the arms any way, is by all means to be avoided. Their 
anions fhould generally be very moderate, and follow * 
that of the hands ; unlefs in very pathetic expreilions, 
where it may be proper to give them a more lively 
fpring. ... 

Now all bodily motion is eitlier upward or down- 
ward, to the right or left, forward or backward, or 
elfe circular. The hands are einployed by the orator 
in all thefe except the laft. And as they onght to cor- 
refpond with our exprefSons, fo they ought to begin 
and end with tjiemi In admiration, and addrefles to 
heaven, they muft be eWated, but never raifed above 
the eyes ; and in fpeaking of things below us, they are 
direfted downwards. Side motion (hould generally 
begin from the left, and terminate gently on the right. 
In demoiiftrating, addrtffing, and on feveral other oc- 
cafions, they aire moved forward ; and in threateiatingy 


fometimes thrown back. But when the orator fpeaks 
of himfelf, his right hand fhould be gently laid on his 

The left hand fhould feldom move alone, but ac- 
commodate itfelf to the motions of the right. In ^mo- 
tions to the left fide, the right hand fhould not be car- 
ried beyond the left fhoulder. In promifes, and ex- 
preffions of compliment, the motion of the hands fh >uid 
be gentle and flow $ but in exhortations and appbufe^ 
more fwift The hands fhould generally be open ; but 
in expreflions of compunAion and anger, they may be 
clofed. All finical and trifling actions of the fingers 
ought to be avoided ; nor fhould they be flretched *>ut 
and expanded in a (Viff and rigid poflure, but kept eafy 
and pliable. 

The geftures we have hitherto difcourfed of, are 
fuch as J3iaturally accompany our exprefBons. And 
we believe fhofe we have mentioned, if duly attended 
to, will be found fufficient to anfrver all the purpofes 
of our modern pronunciation. The other fort of ges- 
tures above mentioned are fuch as arife from imitation : 
as where the orator defcribes fome adtion or perfonates 
another fpeaking. But here great care is to be taken 
*not to overact hb part by running into any ludicrous 
or theatrical mimicry. It is fufficient for him to rcp- 
refent things of this nature, as may bcfl convey the 
image of them in a lively manner to the minds of the 
hearers ; without any fuch changes either of his ac- 
tions or voice as are not fuitable to his own charaAer. 


WE fhall begin with the parts of a difcourfe, and 
treat of them in their natural order. And here the 
view and defign of the fpeaker in each of them will 
eafity help us to fee the proper manner of pronuncia- 


don. Let us fuppofe then a perfon prefentiog him- 
felf before an aflembly, in order to make a difirourfe 
to them. It cannot de decent immediately to begin to 
fpeak {o fbon as ever he makes his appearance. He 
will firft fettie himfelf, compofe his countenance! and 
take a refpe^tfiil view of his audience. This prepares 
them for iilence and attention. 

Perfons commonly form fome opinion of a fpeaker 
from their firft view of him, which prejudices them 
either in his favor or otherwite, as to what he fays af« 
terwards. A grave and fedate afpef): inclines them to 
think him ferious ; that he had confidered his fubjed, 
and may have fomething to offer worth their attention. 
A haughty and forbidding air occafions diftafte, as it 
looks like difrefpeA. A wandering giddy countenance 
argues levity. A dejeAed drooping appearance is apt 
to raife contempt, unlefs where the fubjeA is melan* 
choly. And a cheerful afped is a proper prelude to a 
pleafant and agreeable argument. 

To fpeak low at firft fa^s the appearance of modefty, 
and is beft for the voice $ which, by rifing gradually, 
will with more eafe be carried to any pitch that may 
be afterwards neceffary, without ftratning it. Howev- 
er, fome variation of the voice is always proper to give 
it harmony. Nay, and fometimes it is not improper 
for an orator to fefc out with a confiderabie degree of 
warmth. We have fome few inftances of this in Ci- 
cero ; as in his oration for Rofcius Amerinus, where 
the heinoufness of the charge could not but excite hi.<s 
indignation againft the accufers. And {o likewife in 
that againft Pifo, and the two firft againft Catiline, 
which begin in the fame manner, from the refentment 
he had conceived againft their perfons and conduA. 

In the narration, the voice ought to be raifed to fome- 
what a higher pitch. Matters of faft ftiould be related 
in a very plain and diftinfi; manner, with a proper ftpcis 
and emphafis laid upon each circumftance, accompani- 
ed with a fuitable addrefs and motions i)f the body to 
engage tlie attention of the hearers. For there is a 


certain grace in telling a ftory, by which thofc who arc 
matters of it feldom fail to recommend themfelves in 

The propofition or fubjeA of the difcourfe, fhould 
be delivered with a vf ry clear and audible voice. JFor 
if this be not plainly heard, all that follows in proof 
of it cannot be well underftood* And for the fame 
treafon, if it be divided into feveral parts orisranches, 
they (hculd each be* exprefled very deliberately and 
didin^ly. But as the defign here is only information^ 
there can be little room for gefture. 
. The confirmation admits of gr€at.:varietyborti of the 
voice and getture. In reafoning, the voice is quick and 
pungent, and ihould be enforced with fuitable a<Slions. 
And as defcriptions likewife have, often a place here, in 
painting ^out the images -of -things, -the orator fhould fo 
endeavor to adapt both his /voice, and the motions of 
his body, particularly the mm of his eyes, and a^ion 
of his hands, as.may;]s^ft;help the imagination of his 
hearers. Where jiie>jntToduces another perfon fpeak- 
ing, or addr^fTes an ^bfent penfon, it fhquld be with 
fome degree«of imitation^ And in dialogue, the voice 
ihould alter .with-the parts. When he diverts from his 
fwbjcfl by any. digreffion, his voice ihould be lively 
and cheerful,; ,^fince that is .rather defigned for enter- 
tainment tl)iSiQ,inAfu£l:ion. 

in,confut,auon, the arguments of the adverfe party 
.ought tigrd to be repeated in a plai n and di ftinfb man- 
«er^ that, the fp^aker may notfeemto comreal or avoid 
the. force of them. Unlefs they appear trifling and un- 
,wonhy of a/erious anfwer ; and then a facetious man- 
ner, both , of expreifion and gefture> may be the moft 
j)ropcr wiiy to confute them. For, to attempt to an- 
iwer, in a grave and ferious manner, what is in itfelf 
empty and ludicrous,, is apt to create a fufpicion of its 
:.having more in it. than it really has. 

But caution fhould be ufed not to reprefent any ar* 
.gument of weight in a ludicrous way, left by (6 doing 
^he fpeaker fhould more expofe himfelf than bis adver* 


fary. In the conclufi^^n, both the voice and gcfture 
fhould be brifk and fprightly ; which may fcem to arife 
from a fenfe of the fpeaker's opinion of the goodnefs 
of his^aufe, and that he has offered^ nothing but what 
is agreeable to reafon and truth ; as Ukewife from his 
aiTurance that the audience agree with him in the fame 
fentiment. If an enumeration of the principal argu- 
ments of the difcourfe be convenient, as it fotnetimes 
is, where they arc pretty numerous, or the difcourfe is 
long, they ought to be exprefled in the moft clear and 
forcrble manner. And if there be an addrefs to the 
paffions, both the voice and gefture muft be fuited to 
the nature of them. 

We proceed now to the confidcration of particular 
cxpreiEonSk And what we (hall offer here, will be in 
relation to the iingle words, fentences, and the paffions. 
Even in thofe fentences which are expreffed in the 
moft even and fcdate manner, there is often one 6t 
more words which require an emphafis and diftin^ion 
of the voice. Pronouns are oftenof this kind ; as, rfrf/ 
is the man. And fuch are many words that denote 
the circumftaoces and qualities of things. Such as 
heighten or magnify the idea of the thing to wTucu 
they are joined, elevate the voice 5 as noble^ admira* 
hle^ majeJHc^ greatlyy and the like. On the contrary, 
thofe which leffein the idea or debafe it, deprefs the^ 
voice. Of at leaft protra^ft the tone : of which fort arc 
the words little, mean, poorly, contemptible, with many 

Some tropes, likewife, as metaphors and verbal fig- 
ures, which confift in the repetition of a iingle word, 
ftould have a particular emphafis. As when Virgil 
fays of the river Araxes, " It difdained a bridge." And 
Nifus of himfclf in the fame peet, " I, Jam the man j" 
where the repeated word is loudeft. This diftinftion 
of words, and giving them their proper emphafis, does 
not only render the expreffion more clear and intelli- 
gible, but very much contributes to the variation rf 
the voice and the preventing of a monotony.' 


In fentences^ regard fhould be had to their lengthy 
and the number of their parts, in order to didinguiOi 
them by proper paufes. The frame and ftruftjire of 
the period ought Jikewife to be confidered, that the 
voic^ may be fo managed as to give it the moft mufical 
accent. Unlefs there be feme fpecial reafon for the 
contrary, it fliould end louder than it begins. And 
this difference of tone between the end of the former 
fentence and the beginning of the next, not only helps 
to diftinguifh the fenfe, but adds to the harmony of 
the voice. 

In an antithefis, or a fentence confifting of oppofitc 
parts, one contrary muft be louder than the otl\er. 
As, " He is gone, but by a gainful remove, from patn* 
fttl labor to qukt rejl ; from unquiet deftre to happy con-' 
tenfmeni ; from forrow to joy ; and from tranfttory time 
to immortality** In a climax or gradation, the voice 
fhould generally rife with it. Thus, " There is no en- 
joyment of property without go verjimenLi-jiO-govern*' 
ment without a magiftrate j no magiftrate without obe-* 
ilience \ no obedience where every one afts as he pi ca- 
fes." Aird fo ia other gradations of a different form } 
v^f " Since concord was loft, friendfhip was loft, fidel- 
ity was loft, liberty was loft, all was loft." 
' That the paffions have each of them both a differ^ 
ent voice and aftion, \% evident from hence, that we 
know in what manner a perfon is affefted, by the tone 
of his voice, though we do not underftand the fenfe of 
what he fays, or many times fo much a$ fee him \ and 
we can often make the fame judgment from his coun- 
tenance and geftures. Love and efteem are exprefled 
in a fmooth and cheerful tone ; but anger and refent- 
ment, with a rough, harOi, and interrupted voice 5 
for when the fpirits are ruffled, ^he organs are moved 
unequally. Joy raifes and dilates the voice, as for- 
row finks and contrafts it. Cicera takes notice of a 
paflage in an oration of Gracchus, wherein he bewails 
the death of his brother, who was killed by Scipio, 
vhich in his time was thought very moving : " Unbap* 


py man (fays he,) whither (hall I betake myfelf ? Where 
fhall I go ? Into the capitol ? that flows with my broth- 
er'^s blood. Shall I go home, and behold my unhappy 
mother all in tears and def{)air P' 

Though Gracchus had a very ill defign in that fpeech, 
and his view was to excite the pdpulace againft their 
governors^ yet (as Cicero tells us) when he came to this 
paflage, he exprefied himfelf in fuch moving accents 
and geftm-es, that he extorted tears even from his ene- 
mies. Fear occafrons a tremor and heittatton of the 
voice, and affurance gives it ftrength and firmnefs. 
Admiration elevates the voice, and ihould be exprcfied 
with pomp and magnificence. " O furprifing clemency, 
worthy of the higheft praife and grcateft encomiums, 
and fit to be perpetuated in laf^ing monuments !" This 
is Cicero's compliment to Cefar, when he thought it fof 
his purpofe. And oftentimes this paffion is accompanied 
with an elevation both of the eyes and hands. On the 
contrary, contempt finks and protrafts the voice. 

All exclaipations fhould be violient. When we ad- 
drefs inanlnKite things, the voice fhould be higher than 
when animated beings *, and appeals to heaven muft be 
made in a loftier tone than thofe to men. Thefe few 
hints for exprefilng the principal pafiions may, if dvs>^ 
ly attended to, fuffice to dire^ our praftice in others. 
Though, after all, it is impoflSble to gain a juft and 
decent pronunciation of voice and gefture ji^erely from 
rules, without practice and an imitation of the beft ex« 
amples : which (hows the wifdom of the ancients, in. 
training up their youth to it, by the afliftance of maf- 
ttrs^ to form both their fpeech and anions. But here, 
as has been before obierved, great caution fhould be 
ufed in directing our choice of an example* An af- 
fe^d imitation of others, in pronunciation or gefhire, 
e(pecially pf ftage players, whofe pretentions to litera- 
ture are feldom confiderable, and who are generally 
too fond of fmgulariiji ought to be careftilly avoided. 
For nothing can appear more difgufting to perf^ns of 
difcernment than affeiflatiott. 

€ 3 



OUS DIALOGUES, POETRY, &c. variously 


Extract from an Oration on Elo- 

ON Commencement Day, 1794. 

THE excellence, utility and importance of Elo- 
Q17ENCE ; its origin, progrefs, and prefent ftate ; 
and its fuperior claim to the particular attention of 
Columbia's free-born fons, will exercife for a few mo- 
ments the patience of this learned, polite, and refpeAed 

Speech fpd r^pfip are the chara£leriftics, the glory, 
and the happinefs of man. Thefe are the pillars which 
fupport the fair fabric of eloquence •, the foundation, 
upon which is ere£^ed the mofl magnificent edifice, that 
genius could defign, or art conftru^. To cultivateeloo 
guence, then, is to improve the nobleft faculties of our 
nature, the richeft talents with which we are intruft^d. 
A more convincing proof of the dignity and importance 
of our fubjeft need not, cannot be advanced. 

The benevolent defign and the beneficial effeAs jof 
eloquence, evince ks great fuperiority over every other 
art, which ever exercifcd the ingenuity of man. To 
inftru£t, to perfuade, to pleafe \ thefe are its obj«ite. 


To fcatter the clouds of ignorance and error from the 
atmofphere of reafon ; to remove the film of |»-ejudice 
from the mental eye ; and thus to irradiate the benight- 
ed mind with the cheering beams of truths is at once 
the bufinefs and the glory of eloquence. 

To promote the innocent and refined pleafures of the 
fancy and intelledt ; to ftrip the monitor vice of all his 
borrowed charms, and expofe to view his native defor- 
mity ; to difplay the refiftlefs attractions of virtue ^ and^ 
in one word, to roufe to aftion all the latent energies of 
man, in the proper and ardent purfuit of the great end 
of his exiftence, is the orator^s pleafing,, benevolent, 
fublime employment. 

■ Nor let it be objefled, that eloquence Ibmetimcs im- 
pedes the courfe of juftice, and fcreens the guilty from 
the pqnifiiment due to their crimes. Is there any thing 
which is not obnoxious to abufe ? Even the benign 
religion of the Prince of Peace has been made the un^ 
willing inftnxment of the greateft calamities ever ex- 
perienced by man. The greater the benefits which 
naturally refult from any thing, the more pernicious arc 
its efie£b^ when diverted from its proper courfe. This 
objedion to eloquence is therefore itshigheft eulogium* 

The orator does not fucceed, as (bme would infin- 
tiate, by da2zling the Cye of reafon with the illufive 
glare of his rhetorical art, nor, by filcncing her ftill 
fmall voice in the thunder of his declaittetion ; for to 
her impartial tribunal he refers the truth and propriety 
of whatever he afierts or proposes. After fairly eon-* 
vincing the underAanding, he may, without the impu- 
tation of difingenuoufnefs, proceed to addrefs the fancy 
and the paffions. In this way he will more eflfeftually 
transfufe into his hearers his own fentiments, and make 
every fpring in the human machine co-operate in the 
production of the defired cfiefl. 

Thfe aftoniihing powers of eloquence arc well known, 
at leaft to thofe who are converfant m ancient hiftory* 
Like a refiftlcfs torrent,"it bears down every obftacie, 
and turns even the current of oppofiog ignorance ?«d 


prejudice ifitothe defired channel of active and zealous 
compliance. It is indifputably the moft potent art with** 
in the compafs of human acquirement. An Alexander 
and a Cefar could conquer a world *, but to overcome 
the paffions, to fubdue the willsi and to command at 
pleafure the inclinations of meuj can be effe^ed only 
by the all-powej^ul charm of enrapturing eloquence. 

Though it be more than probable, that oratory was 
known and cultivated in fome degree in thofe eaftem 
nations, where fcience firft began to da^vn upon the 
world ; yet it was not till Greece became civilized and 
formed into diftin£b governments, that it made its appear- 
ance in its native, peerlefs majefty. Here we may fix the 
era of eloquence *, here was its morn ; here its meridian 
too; for here it (hone withfplendor never fince furpafied. 

It is a common ^nd a juft remark, that eloquence 
can flourifli only in the foil of liberty. Athens was a 
republic, where the afiairs of ftate were tranfaAed in 
the aflembly of the whole people. This afforded to 
eloquence a field too fertile to remain long uncultiva<* 
ted by the ingenious Athenians. Orators foon made 
their appearance, who did honor to language, to Greece> 
to humanity. 

But though the names of many have been tranf^ 
mitted to us, whofe genius and eloquence demand our 
veneration and applaufe ; yet, like ftars when the fun 
appears, they-isire loft in the fuperior blaze of the in- 
comparable Demofthenes. His ftory is well known ; 
and his example affords the greateft encouragement to 
ftudents in eloquence i as it proves, that by art, almoft 
in defiance of nature, a man may attain fuch excellence 
in oratory, as (hall (lamp his name with the feal of im- 
mortality. Demofthenes and the liberty of Greece to- 
gether expired ; and from this period we hear very 
little more of Grecian eloquence* 

Let us now direA our attention to that other gar- 
den of eloquence, the Roman Commonwealth. Here, 
as in Greece, a free government opened the lifts to fuch 
^s wiibed to difput^ the palm in omtory. Numbers 


advance, ^nd contend manfully for the prize. But 
their glory is foon to fade -, for Cicero appears 5 Cicero, 
another name for eloquence itfelf. It is needlefs to 
enlarge on his character as an orator. Su^ce it fay, 
that if we ranfack the hifVories of the world to find a 
rival for Demofthenes, Cicero alone can be found 
capable of fupporting a claim to that diftinguiihed 

And when did Greece or Rome prefcnc a fairer 
field for eloquence, than that which now invites the 
culture of the enlightened citizens of Columbia ? Wc 
live in a republic, the orator's natal foil^ we enjoy as 
much liberty, as is confident with the nature of man ; 
we poflefs as a nation all the advantages f hich climate, 
foil, and fituation can bedow ; and nothing but real 
merit is here required as a qualification for the moft 
dignified offices of ftate. Never had eloquence more 
ample fcope. 

. Acd.lhall^we xefLfatifrScd with only admiringmOr 
at moft with following at an awful diftance the moft 
illuftrious orators of Greece and Rome ? Shall every 
other ufeful and ornamental ^xx fpeed fwiftly towardk 
perfeftion, while oratory, that moft fublime of all arts 5 
that art, which could render one man more dreadful 
to a tyrant, than hoftile fleets and armies, is almoft 
forgotten ? It muft not, cannot be. That refinement 
of tafte, that laudable ambition to excel in every thing 
which does honor to humanity, which diftinguiihes 
the Americans, and their free and popular government, 
are fo many fprings, which though not inftantaneous 
in their operation, cannot fail in time to raife Colum- 
bian eloquence " above all Greek, above all Roman 

With pleafure we defcry the dawning of that 
bright day of eloquence, which we have anticipated. 
The grand council of our nation has already evinced, 
that in this refpef^, as in all others, our republic ac« 
knowledges no exifting fuperior. And we truft, that, 
as our facred teachers make it their conftant endeavor 


to imitate the great learnings the exemplary virtue, 
the exalted piety, and the extenilve ufefulnefs of the 
great apoftle of the Gentiles, they will not fail to re-* 
femble him in that commanding, that heavenly elo- 
quence, which made an avaricious, an unbelieving Fe* 
lix tremble. 

May Columbia always aiFbrd more than one De- 
mofthenes, to fupport the facred caufe of freedom, and 
to thunder terror in the ears of every tranfatlantic 
Philip. May more than Ciceronean eloquence be ever 
ready to plead for injured innocence, and fufFcring vir- 
tue. Warned by the fate of her predeceflbrs, may fhe 
efcape thofe quickfands of vice, which have ever prov- 
ed the bane oj^ empire. May her glory and her felicity 
increafe with each revolving year, till the laft trump 
fhall announce the cataftrophe of nature, and time 
ihali emerge in the ocean of eternity. 

Extract from President Washington's 
FIRST Speech in Congress, 1789. 

Fellow-Citizens of the Senate, 

AND of the House of Representatives, 

AMONG the vicifEtudes incident to life, no event 
could have filled me with greater anxieties than 
that of which the notification was tranfm^tted by your 
order, and received on the 14th day of the prefent 
month. On the one hand, I was fummoned by my 
country, whofe voice I can never hear but with vene^ 
ration and love, from a retreat which I had chofen 
with the fondeft predileftion, and, in my flattering 
hopes, with an immutable deciiion, as the afylum of 
my declining years. A retreat which was rendered 
every day more neccflary as well as more dear to me, 
by the addition of habit to inclination, and of frequent 
interruptions in my health to the graduajl wade com- 
•^itt ed on it by time. 


On the other hand, th^ magnitude and difficuky of 
the trud to which the voice of my country called me^ 
being fufficient to awaken in the wifeft and moft expe- 
rienced of her citizens, a diftruftful fcnitiny into his 
qualifications, could not but overwhelm with defpon- 
dence one, who> inheriting inferior endowments from 
nature, and unpra<ftifed in the duties of civil adminis- 
tration, ought to be peculiarly confcious of his own 

In this confiift. of emotions, ail I dare aver is, that it 
has been my faithful fludy to colled my duty from a 
juft appreciation of every circumftance by which it might 
be a#e6ted. All I dare hope is, that if, in executing 
this tafk, I have been too much fwayed by a grateful 
remembrance of former inftances, or by an afie^ionate 
fenflbility to this tranfcendent proof of the confidence 
of my fellow-citizens, and have thence too little con- 
fulted my incapacity as well as difinclination for the 
weighty and untried cares before me, my error will be 
palliated by the motives which mifled me ; and its con- 
fequences be judged by my country, with fome fhare 
of the partiality in which th^ originated. 

Such being the impreflions under which I have in 
obedience to the public fummons, repaired to the prcf^ 
ent ftation, it would be peculiarly improper to omit in 
this fir ft official ad, my fervent fupplications to that 
Almighty Being, who rules over the univerfc, who 
prefides in the councils of nations, and whofe provi- 
dential aids can fupply every human defeft, that his 
behedidion may confecrate to the liberties and happi- 
nefs of the people of the United States, a government 
inftituted by themfelves for thefe efTential purpofes ; 
and may enable every in{l:rument employed in its ad- 
miniftration, to execute with fuccefs the fundions al- 
lotted to his charge. In tendering this homage to the 
great Author of every public and private good, I af- 
fure myfelf that it exprefles your fentiments not lefs 
than my own ; northofeof my fellow-citizens at large, 
lefs than either. * 


No people cam be bound to acknowledge and adore 
the invifible hand which condu£^s the afiairs of men» 
more than the people of the United States. Every ftep, 
by which they have advanced to the charader of an 
independent nation, feems to have been diftinguifhed 
by fome token of providential agency. And in the 
important revolution juft accompiifhed in the fyftem 
of their united government, the tranquil deliberations 
and voluntary confent of fo many diftin£): communities, 
fromi which the event has refulted, cannot be com- 
pared with the means by which mod governments have 
been edablifhed, without fome return of pious grati- 
tude, with a humble anticipation of the future bleflings 
which the paft feem to prefage. Thefe reiieAions, 
arifing out of the prefent crifis, have forced themfeives 
too itrongly on my mind to be fupprefTed. Tou will 
join with me, I truft, in thinking that there are none 
under the influence of which, the proceedings of a 
new and free government can more aufpiciouly com- 

Speech of Paulus Emilius to the Roman 
People, as he was about taking the Com- 
mand OF THEIR Army. 

YOU feem to me, Romans, to have expreflcd more 
joy when Macedonia feil to my lot, than when 
I was elefted conful, or entered upon that office. 
And to me your joy feemed to be occafioned by the 
hopes you conceived, that I fliould put an end, wor- 
thy of the grandeur and reputation of the Roman 
people, to a war, which, in your opinion, has already 
been of too long continuance. I have reafon to believcj 
that the fame gods, who have occafioned Macedonia 
to fall to my lot, will alfo ailin: me with their protec- 
tion in .conUu<Sting and terminating this war fuccefs- 
ftiUy. But of this, I may venture to afliire you, that 


I flialt do my utmofl not to fall (hort of your ezpcfta- 

The fenate has wifely regulated every thing neceC- 
fary in the expedition I am charged with ; and, as I 
am ordered to fet out immediately^ I fliall make no 
delay ; and I know that my colleague Caius LiciniuSi 
out of his great zeal for the public fervice, will raife 
and march off the troops appointed for me, with as 
much ardor and expedition, as if they were for hira- 
felt I ihall take care to tranfmit to you, as well as 
to the fenate, an exaft account of all that paffes ; and 
you may rely upon the certainty and truth of my let- 
ters. But I beg of you, as a great favor, that you will 
not give credit to, or lay any weight, out of credulity, 
upon the light reports, which are frequently fpread 
abroad without any author* 

I perceive well, that in this war, more than in any 
other, whatever refolution people may form to obviate 
thefe rumours, they will not fail to make impreilion, 
and infpire I know not whit difcouragement. There 
are thofe, who, in company, and even at table, com- 
mitnd armies, make difpofitions, and preicribe all the 
operations of the campaign* They know better than 
we, whCTe we ftiould encamp, and what jpofts it is nc- 
- ceffary for us to feize ; at what time, and by what de- 
file we ought to enter Macedonia ; where it is proper 
to have magazines ; from whence, either by fea or 
land, we are to bring provifions.; when we are to fight 
the enemy, and when lie Aill. 

They not only prefcribe what is beft to do; but 
,for«deviating ever fo little from their plans, they make 
*it a crime in their conful, and cite him before their 
tribunal. But know, Romans, this is of very bad ef- 
fe£l with your generals. All have not the refolution 
and confiancy of Fabius, to defpife impertinent reports. 
He coukl choofe rather to fuffer the people, upon fuch 
unhappy rumours, to invade his authority, than to ruin 
afiairs ia order to preferve their opinion, and an empty 



I am ifar from believing, that generals ftand in no 
need of advice : I think, on the contrary, that who- 
ever would conduft every thing alone, upon his own 
opinion, and without counfel, (hows more prefumption 
than prudence. But feme may afk, How then fhall 
we aft reafonably i I anfwer, by not fufFering any per- 
fons to obtrude their advice upon your generals, but 
fuch as are, in the firft place, verfed in the art of war, 
and have learned from experience what it is to com- 
mand ; and in the fccond place, who are upon the fpot ; 
who know the enemy ; arc witnefles in perfon to all 
that pafles ; and fharers with us in all dangers. 

If there be any one, who conceives himfelf capable 
of affifting me with his counfels in the war you have 
charged me with, let him not refufe to do the republic 
that fcrvice ; but let him go with me into Macedo- 
nia. Ships, horfes, tents, provifions, (hall all be pro- 
vided for him at my charge. But if he will not take 
fo^ much trouble, and prefers the tranquility of the 
city to the dangers and fatigues of the field, let him 
not take upon him to hold the helm, and continue idle 
in the port. The city of itfelf fupplies fufficient mat- 
ter of difcourfe on other fubjcfts ; but as for thefe, let 
it be filent upon them ; and know, that we fliall pay no 
regard to any counfels, but iuch as (hall be given us in 
the camp itfelf. 

Exhortation on Temperance in Plea- 
sure. • 

T ET me particularly exhort youth to temperance 
I J in pleafure. Let me admonifli them, to beware 
wthat rock on which thoufands« from race to rac^, 
continue to fplit. The love of pleafure natufral to 
man in every period of bis life, glows at this age 
with exccfEve ardor. Novelty adds frcfti charms, as 
*«t, to every gratification. Ihe world appears to 


fpread^ a continual feaft ; and healthy vigor, and high 
fpirits, invite them to partake of it without reHraint. 
In vain we warn thecn of latent dangers. Religion is 
accufed of infufferable feverity, in prohibiting enjoy- 
ment : and the old, when they offer their admonitions, 
are upbraided with having forgotten, that they once 
were young. 

And yet, my friends, to wha^ do the reftraints of 
religion, and the counfels of age, with refpedl to 
pleafure, amount ? They may\all be comprifed in few 
words, not to hurt yourfelves, and not to hurt others, 
by your purfuit of pleafure. Within thefe bounds, 
pleafure is lawful ; beyond them, it becomes criminal, 
becaufe it is ruinous. Are thefe reftraints any 6ther, 
than what a wife man would choofe to impofe on him- 
felf ? We call you not to renounce pleafure but to 
enjoy it in fafety. Inftead of abridging it, we exhort 
you to purfue it on an extenfive plan. We propofe 
meafures for fe curing its pofleffion, and for prolonging 
its duration. 

Confult your whole nature. Confider yourfelves 
not only as fenfitive, but as rational beings ; not only 
as rational, but focial; not only as fecial, but immor- 
tal. Whatever violates your nature in any of thefe 
refpedts, cannot afford true pleafure ; any more than 
that which undermines an effential part of the vital 
fyftem can promote health. For the truth of this con- 
clufion, we appeal, not merely to the authority of re- 
ligion, nor to the teftimony of the aged, but to your* 
felves and your own experience. We alk, whether 
you have not found, that in a courfe of criminal excefs, 
your pleafure was more than corapenfated by fucceed- 
ing pain ? Whether, if not from every ps^rticular in- 
ftance, yet from every habit, at leaft, of unlawful grat- 
ification, there did not fpring fome thorn to wound 
you i there did not arife fome confequence to make 
you repent of it in the iflue ? 

" How long then, ye fimple ones ! will ye love fim- 
plidiy ?" How long repeat the fame round of pemi- 


cious foUy^ and tamely expofe yourfelves to be caught 
in the fame fnarc ? If you have any confiderationy or 
any firmnefs left> avoid temptations, for which you 
have found yourfelves unequal, with as much care as 
you would fhun pcftilential infection. Break off all 
connexions with the loofe and profligate. « When 
finners entice thee, confent thou not. Look not on 
the wine when it is rbd, when it gWeth its color in the 
cup ; for at the laft, it bitcth like a ferpem^and fting- 
eth like an adder. Remove thy way from the ftrangc 
woman, and come not near the door of her houfe. Let 
not thine heart decline to her ways ; for her houft is 
the way to hell. Thou goeft after her as a bird haC- 
teneth to the fnare> and knoweth not chat it is for his 

By thefe unhappy exceffes of irregular pleafure in 
youth, how many amiable difpoiitions are corrupted 
or deftroyed ! How many rifing capacities and powers 
are fupprefled ! How many flattering hopes of parents 
and friends are totally extinguiihed ! Who but muft 
drop a tear over human nature, when he beholds that 
morning which arofe fo bright, overcaft with fuch un- 
timely darknefs \ that good humor which once capti* 
vated all hearts ; that vivacity which fparkled in every 
company ; thofe abilities which were fitted for adorn- 
ing the higheft ftation, all facrificed at the (brine of 
low fenfuality ; and one, who was formed for running 
the fair career of life in the midft of public efleem, cut 
off by his vices at the beginning of his courfe, or funk, 
for the whole of it, into infignificancy and contempt ! 
Thefe, O finful pleafure ! are thy trophies. It is thus> 
that, co-operating with the foe of God and man, thou 
degradeft human nature, and blaftcft the opening jwot 
pe£U of human felicity. 


Judah's Plea for his Brother Benjamin, 
BEFORE Joseph in Egypt. 

WHEN we appeared before you. Sir, the firft 
time, we anfwered without referve, and ac- 
cording to the ftri£beft truth, all the queftions which 
you were pleafed to put to us concerning our family. 
We acquainted you that we had a father, heavily la- 
den with years,. but flili icnore heavily with misfortunes; 
a father, whofe whole life had been one continued flrugr 
gle with adverfity^ We added that we had a brother 
peculiarly dear to him,, as the children born towards 
the end of their life generally are to old men, and who 
is the only one remaining of his mother ; his brother 
having come in early youth to a mod tragical end. 

You commanded us, as the proof of our veracity and 
. innocence, to bring that brother unto you ; and your 
command was delivered with fuch threatenings, that 
the terror of them accompanied us all the way back to 
our country, and. embittered tlie remainder of our jour- 
ney. We reported every thing minutely to our father, 
as you direfled us. Refolutely and long he refufed to 
intruft us with the care of that child. Love fuggefted 
a thoufand caufes of apprehendon upon his account. 
He loaded us with the bittereil reproaches for having 
declared that we had another brother* 

Subdued by the famine, he at length reluctantly con- 
fented; and putting his beloved Ion, this unhappy 
youth, into our hands, conjured us by every dear, 
every awful name, to guard with ^endernefs his pre- 
cious life V and as we would not fee him expire before 
our eyes in anguifh and defpair, to bring him back in 
(afety. He parted with him as with a limb torn from 
his own body j and in an agony of grief inexprt fRble, 
deplored the dreadful neceflity which feparated aim 
from a fon, on whom all the happinels of his life de^- 

Xf 2 


How then can we appear before a father of fuch 
delicate fenfibility ? With what eyes (hall we dare to 
look upon hinij unlefs we carry back with us this ion 
of his right hand) this ftaff of his old age, whom, alas ! 
you have condemned to flavery ? The good old man 
will expire in horrors dreadful to nature, as foon as he 
fliall find that his fon is not with us. Our enemies 
will infult over us under thefe misfortimes, and treat 
us as the moft infamous of paricides. 

I muft- appear to the world, and to myfelf, as the 
perpetrator of that moft horrid of crimes, the murder 
of a father ; for it was I who moft urgently prefled 
my father to yield. I engaged by the moft folema 
promifes, and the moft facred pledges, to bring the child 
back. Me he inirufted with the facred depofit, and of 
my hand he, will require it. Have pity, I befeech you, 
on the deplorable condition of an old man, ftripped of 
his laft comfort ^ andwhofe mifcry will be aggravated 
by reflefling that he forefaw its approach, and yet want- 
ed refolution to prevent it. 

If your juft indignation muft needs have a facrifice, 
here I am ready, at the price of my liberty or of my 
life) to expiate this young man's guilt, and to purchaie 
his releafe ! - Grant this requeft, not fo much for the 
fake of the youth himfelf, as of his abfent father, who 
nevef dffended you, but who venerates your perfon 
and efteems your virtues. 

* Suffer us not to plead in vain for a fhelter under your 
t4ght hand, to which we flee, as to an holy altar, con« 
fecrated as a refuge to the miferable. Pity an old man, 
who, during the whole courfe of a long life, has tulti- 
vated arts becoming a man of wifdom and probity, and 
who, on account of his amiable qualities, is almoft 
adored by the inhabitants of Syria and Canaan, though 
he profeftes a religion, and follows a mode of living 
totally different from theirs. 


Extract from the Plea op Thomas Muir^ 


Gentlemen of the Jury, 

r I ^HIS is now perhaps the laft time that I fhall ad- 
\ drefs my country. I have explored the tenor 
Dtmy paft life. Nothing fhall tear from me the rec- 
ord of my departed days. Fhe enemies of reform have 
fcrutinized, in a manner hitherto unexampled in Scot- 
land, every aftion I may have performed, every word 
I may have uttered. Of crimes, moft foul and horri- 
ble, have I been accufed : of attempting to rear the 
flandard of civil war ; to plunge this land in blood, and 
to cover it with defolation. At every ftep, as the evi- 
dence of the crown advanced, my innocency has bright- 
ened. So far from inflaming the ifiinds of men to (e- 
dition and outrage, all the witneffes have concurred, 
•that my only anxiety was, to imprefs upon them the 
neceffity of peace, of good order, and of good morals. 

What then has been my crime ? Not the lending to 
a relation a copy of Mr. Paine^s Works ; not the giving 
away to another a few numbers of an innocent and 
conftitutional publication ; but for having dared to be, 
according to the meafure of my feeble abilities, a ftren- 
uous and aftive advocate for an equal i^prefentation of 
for having dared to attempt to accomplifli a meafure, by 
legal means, which was to diminilh the weight of their 
taxes, and to put an end to the profufion of their blood. 
From my infancy to this moment, I have devoted 
myfelf to the caufe of the PEOPLE. It is a good 
caufe. It will ultimately prevail. It will finally tri- 
umph. Say then openly, in your verdift, if you do con- 
demn me, which I prefume you will not, that it is for my 
attachment to this caufe alone, and not for thofe vain and 
wretched pretexts flated in the indiftment, intended on- 
ly to color and difguife the real motives of my accu^- 


tion. The time will come, when men muft ftand or fiaiU 
by their actions ; when all human pageantry fhall ceaie | 
when the hearts of all (hall be laid open to view. 

If you regard your moft important interefts; if you 
wifh that your confciences fhould whifper to you words 
of confo^ation^ rather d\an fpeak to you in the terrible 
language of remorfe, weigb well the TerdiA you are to 

As for me, I am carelefs and indifferent to my fate* 
I can look danger, and I can look death in the face ; 
for I am ihielded by the confcioufnefs of my own recti- 
tude. I may be condemned to languiih in the recedes 
of a dungeon. 1 may be doomed to afcend the fca£- 
fold. Nothing can deprive me of the recolledlion of 
the pad: ^ nothing can deftroy my inward peace of 
mind, ariiing from the remembrance of having di& 
charged my duty» 

On the starry Heavens. 

TO ns who dwell on its furface, the earth is bj 
far the moft extenfive orb that our eyes can any 
where behold. It is alfo clothed with verdure ; dif- 
tinguifhed by trees ; and adorned with a variety of 
beautiful decorations. Whereas, to a fpe6lator placed 
on one of the planets, it wears a uniform afpeA $ looks 
all luminous,, and no larger than a fpot. To beings 
who dwell at ftill greater diftances, it entirely difap* 

That which we call, alternately^ the morning and 
evening ftar ^ as in one part of her orbit, fhe rides 
foremoft in the procei&on of night $ in the other,, ufh- 
crs in, and anticipates the dawn^ is a planetary world ; 
which, with the five others, that fo wonderfully vary 
their myftic dance, are in themfelves dark bodies, and 
ibine only by refieflion; have fields, and feas, and ikies 
n{ their own i are furniihed with all accommodations 


for animal fubfiftence, and are fuppofed to be abodes 
of intelle£hial life. AH which, together with this our 
earthly habitationj are dependent on that grand dif- 
penfer of divine munificence, the fttn •, receive their 
light from the diftribution of his rays 5 derive their com- 
fort from his divine agency. 

The fun is the great ajilc of heaven, about which, 
the globe we inhabit, and other more fpacious orbs, 
whe^l their ftated courfes. The fun, though feem- 
ingly fmaller than the dial it illuminates, is abundantly 
larger than this whole earth ; on which fo many lofty 
mountains rife, and fach vaft oceans roll. A line, ex- 
tending through the centre of that refplendent orb, 
would meafure more than eight hundred thoufand 
miles. A girdle, formed to furround it, would require 
a length of millions. Were its folid contents to be es- 
timated, the account would overpower our underftand- 
ing, and be almoft beyond the power of langtiagc to 

Are we flartled at thefe reports of aftronomy ? Arc 
we ready to cry out in a tranfport of furprife, How 
mighty is the Being, who kindled fuch a prodigious 
fire, and who keeps alive, from age to age, fuch an 
enormous mafs of flame I Let us attend our philofoph- 
ic guides, and we (hall be brought acquainted with 
fpeculations more enlarged, and more amazing. 

This fun, with all attendant planets, is but a very 
little part oJF the grand machine of the univerfe. Eve- 
ry ftar, though in appearance no bigger than the dia- 
mond that glitters on a lady's ring, is really a mighty 
globe i like the fun in fize» and in glory •, no lefs ipa- 
cious ; no lefs luminous than the radiant fource of our 
day. So that every ftar is not barely a world, but the 
centre of a magnificent fyftem ; has a retinne of worlds, 
irradiated by its beams, and revolving round its attrac- 
tive influence. All which are loft to our fight in un- 
meafiirable wilds of ether. 

That the ftars appear like fo many diminutive, and 
fcarcely diftinguiihable points^ is owing to their im- 


menfe^ and inconceivable diAance. Such a diftance, 
that a cannon ball, could it continue its impetuous flight, 
with unabating rapidity, would not reach the neareft of 
thofe twinkling luminaries for more than five hundred 
thoufand years ! 

Can any thing be more wonderful than thefe obfer- 
vations ? Yes ; there are truths far more ftupendous ; 
there are fcenes far more extenfive. As there is no 
end of the Almighty Maker's greatnefs, fo no imagina* 
tion can fet limits to his creating hand. Could you 
foar beyond the moon, and pafs through all the plane- 
tary choir ; could you wing your way to th'? higheft 
apparent ftar, and take your ftand on one of thofe lofty 
pinnacles of heaven, you would there fee other ikies 
expanded ; another fun, diftributing his inexhauflible 
beams by day ; other liars which gild the horrors of 
the alternate night 5 and other, perhaps, nobler fyftems, 
eftabliflied in unknown profuiion, through the bound- 
lefs dimenfipns of fpace. Nor do the dominions of the 
univerfal Sovereign terminate there. Even at the end 
of this vaft tour, you would j6nd yourfelf advanced no 
further than the fuburbs of creation ; arrived only at 
the frontiers of the great JEHOVAH's kingdom. 

Paper, a Poem. 

SOME wit of old ; fuch wits of old there were, 
Whofe hints {how*d meaning, whofe allufions,care. 
By one brave ftroke, to mark all human kind, 
Caird clear blank paper every infant mind j 
When ftill, as op'ning fenfe her diftates wrote, 
Fair virtue put a fcal, or vice a blot. 

The thought was happy, pertinent, and true, 
Methinks a genius might the plan purfue. 
I, (can you pardon my prefumptioij ?) I, 
No wit, no genius, yet for once will try. 


Various the papers, various wants produce, 
The wants of falhion, elegance, and ufe. 
Men are as various : and, if right I fcan. 
Each fort oi paper reprefents feme man. 

Pray note the fop s half powder and half lace ; 
Nice, as a band-box were, his dwelling-place ; 
He's the gilt papery which apart you llore, ' 
And lock from vulgar hands in the fcrutoire. 

Mechanics, fervants, farmers, and fo forth. 
Are copy paper of inferior worth 5 
Leis priz'd, more ufeful, for your delk decreed. 
Free to all pens, and prompt at_ev*ry need. 

The wretch, whom av'rice bids to pinch and fpare^ 
Starve, cheat, and pilfer, to enrich an heir. 
Is coarfe brown paper^ fuch as pedlars choofe 
To wrap up wares, which better men will ufe. 

Take next the mifer's contraft, who deftroys 
Health, fame, and fortune, in a round of joys. 
Will any paper match hiui ? Yes, throughout. 
He's a true ftnking paper ^ paft all doubt. 

The retail politician's anxious thought 
Deems this fide always right, and that ftark caught ^ 
He foams with cenfure j with applaufe he raves, 
A dupe to rumours, and a tool of knaves 5 
He'll want no type his weaknefs to proclaimf 
While fuch a thing ^% fools- cap has a »ame« 

The hafty gentleman whofe blood runs high, 
Who picks a <5[UArrel if you ftep awry. 
Who can't a jeft, or hint, or look endure : 
What's he ? What ? Touch-paper to be fure. 

What are our poets, take them as they fall, 
Good, bad, rich, poor, much read, not read at all ? 
Them and their works in the fame clafs you'll find 5 
They are the mere nvafte-paper qI mankind. 


Obferve the maiden, innocently fwect. 
She's fiair white papery an unflillied (heet ; 
On which the happy man whom fate ordains, 
May write his ftame^ and take her for his pains. 

One in fiance more, and only one I'll bring ; 
'Tis the great man who fcoms a little thing ; 
Whofe thoughts, whofe deeds, whofe maxims are his 
Form'd on the feelings of his heart alone ; [own. 

True genuine royal paper is his bread $ 
Of all the kinds moft precious, pureft, beft. 

Extract from Cato^s Speech before the 
P^OMAN Senate, after the CoNispiRACY of 

I HAVE often fpoken before you, Fathers, with 
fome extent, to complain of luxury and the 
greedinefs for money, the twin vices of our corrupt 
citizens ; and have thereby drawn upon myfelf abun* 
dance of enemies. As I never fpared any fault in my*- 
felf, I was not eafily inclined to favor the criminal ex- 
.cefles of others. 

But though you paid little regard to my remon- 
ftrtinces, the Commonwealth has ftill fubfiiled by its 
own ilrength $ has borne itfetf up notwithftanding your 
negle^l. It is not now the fame. Our manners, 
good or bad, are not the queftipn, nor to prcferve the 
greatnefs and luflure of the Roman empire ; but to 
refolve whether all we pofllfs and govern, well or, ill, 
ihall continue ours, or be transferred with ourfelves to 

At fuch a time, in fuch a ftate, fome talk to us of 
lenity and compaffion. It is long that we have loft 
the right *names of things. The Commonwealth is ia 
this depl<M:able fiituation, only becaufe wc call beftow- 


ing other people's eftates, liberality, and audacioufnefs 
in perpetrating crimes, courage. 

* Let fuch men, (ince, they will have it fo, and it is 
become the eftablifhed mode, value themfelves upon 
their liberality at the expenfe of the Allies of the em- 
pire, and of their lenity to the robbers of the public 
treafury : but let them not make a largefs of our blood : 
and, to fpare a fmall number of vile wretches, expofe 
all good men to deftruftion. 

Do not imagine. Fathers, that it was by arms our 
anceftors rendered this Commonwealth fo great, from 
fo fmall a beginnifig. If it had been fo we (hould 
now fee it much more flouriihing, as we have more al« 
lies and citizens, more horfe and foot, than they had. 
But they had other things, that made them great, of 
which no traces remain amongft us : at home, labor 
and induftry ; abroad, juft and equitable government ; 
a condancy of foul, and an innocence of manners, that 
kept them perfeftly free in their councils ; unreftrain- 
cd either by the remembrance of paft crimes, or by 
craving appetites to fatisfy. 

For thele virtues, we have luxury and avarice ; or 
madnefs to fquander, joined with no lefs to gain ; the 
State is poor, and private men are rich. We admire 
nothing but riches ; we give ourfelves up to floth and 
effeminacy ; we make no diftin^tion between the good 
and the bad ; whilft ambition engroffes all the rewards 
of virtue. Do you wonder, then, that dangerous con- 
fpiracies ihould be formed ? Whilft you regard noth- 
ing but your private intereft ; whilft voluptuoufnefs 
folely employs you at homfe, and avidity or favour gov- 
erns you here, the Commonwealth, without defence, 
is expofed to the devices of any one who thinks fit to 
attack it. 


Dialogue between the Ghosts of an En^ 


AND Mercury. 

n //» A ^ERCURY, Charon^s boat is on the 
uueutjt,^ JYJ^ ^tj^er fide of the water. Alloi«rme, 
before it returns, to have fome converfation wich the 
North- American Savage, whon) you brought hither 
with me. I never before faw one of that fpecies. He 
looks very grim. Pray, Sir, wh^t is your name ? I 
under ftand you fpea)c EngliA,. 

Savage. Yes, I learned it In my <:Mldhood, having 
been bred for fome years among the Englifli of New- 
York. But, before I was 9 ooan, i returned to my val- 
iant countrymen^ the Mqhfiwks^ and having been viU 
I$moufly cheated by one of yours in the fate of fome 
rum, I never cared tp ha^ve any thing to do with them 
afterwards. Yet € toqik up the hatchet for them with 
the reft of my tribe in the late war againft France, and 
was killed wiiJleJ ;was out on a fcalping party. But 
I died very >V'dl Satisfied : for my brethren were vic- 
torious ^ ai\d, before I was fliot, I had glorioufly fcalp- 
ed feven ^nen^ an4 &ve women and children. In a 
former war, I had performed ftill greater exploits. My 
name is the J^loody Bear : it was given me to exprefs 
my fiercenefs and valour. 

X)i/eL Bloody Bear, I refpeft you, and am much 
youi* bumble fervant. My name is Tom Pufhwell, ve- 
ry well known at Arthur's. I am a gentleman by my 
birth, and by profeffion a gamefterand a man of honor. 
I have killed men in fair fighting, in honorable finglc 
combat ; but don't underftand cutting the throats of 
women and children. 

Sav. Sir, that Js our way of making war. Every na- 
tion has its cuftoms. But by the grimnefs of your coun- 
tenance, and that hole in your brcaft, I prefume you 


were killed as I was, in fotnc fcalping party. How hap- 
pened it that your enemy did not take off your fcalp ? 

DueL Sir, I was killed in a due). A friend of mine 
had lent me a fum of money *, and after two or three 
years, being in great want himfeif, he alked me to 
pay him. I thought his demand which^was fomewhat 
peremptory, an affront to my honbr, and fent him a 
challenge. We met in Hyde Park. The fellow could 
not fence : but I was abfolutely the adroiteft fwordf- 
man in England. So I gave him three or four wounds j 
but at laft he ran upon me with fuch impetuofity, that 
he put me out of my play, and I could not prevent him 
from whipping me through the lungs. I died the next 
day, as a man of honor iliould ; without any fni veiling 
figns of contrition or repentance : and he will follow 
me foon ; for his furgeon has declared his wounds to 
be mortal. It is faid that his wi^ is dead of grief, and 
that his family of feven children will be undone by his 
death. So I am well revenged, aHti that is a comfort. 
For my part, 1 had no wife. 1 always hated marriage : 
my miftrefs will take good care of herfelf, and my chil- 
dren are provided for at the foundling hofpital. 

Sav. Mercury, I won't go in the boat with that fel- 
low. He has murdered his countryman r he has mur-* 
dered his friend : I fay pofitively, I won^ go in the 
boat with that fellow. I will fwim over the river : I 
can fwim like a duck. 

jJi>r. Swim over the Styx ! It muft not be done ; 
it is againft the laws of Plato's empire. You muft go 
in the boat and be quiet. 

Sav, Don't tell me of laws : I am a favage : I value 
no laws. Talk of laws to the Englilhman : there are 
laws in his country \ and yet you fee he did not regard 
t4iem. For they could never allow him to kill his fel- 
low-fubjeft, in time of peace, becaufe he afked him to 
pay an honeft debt. I know, indeed, that the Englifli 
are a barbarous nation : but they can*t poffibly be fo 
brutal as to make {bch things lawfuK 


Mer, Tou reafon well againfl him. But how comes 
it that you are fo offended with murder ; you, who 
£ave frequently maffacred women in their fleep, and 
children in the cradle ? 

&av. I killed none but my enemies : I never kill- 
ed my own countrymen : I never killed my friend. 
Here, take my blanket, and let it come over in the 
boat ; but fee that the murderer does not fit upon it, 
or touch It. If he does, I will burn it inflantly in the 
fire I fee yonder. Farewell. I am determined to fwim 
over the water. 

Mer, By this touch of my wand, I deprive thee of 
all thy ftrength. Swim now if thou canft. 

Sav. This is a potent enchanter. Reftore me my 
ftrength, and I promife to obey thee. 

Mer, I reftore it ; but be orderly, and do as I bid 
you ; otherwife worf#*will befal you. 

DiieL Mercury^ leave him to me. HI tutor him 
for you. Sirrah Savage, dofl thou pretend to be afha- 
med of my company i Doft thou not know that I have 
kept the beft company in England ? 

Snv, I know thou art a fcoundrel. Not pay thy 
debts ! kill thy friend who lent thee money for aiking 
thee for it ! Get out of my fight. I will drive thee 
into the Styx. 

Aler. Stop. I command thee. No violence. Talk 
to him calmly. 

Sav, I muft obey thee. Well, Sir, let me know 
wh^t merit you had to introduce you into good com- 
pany i What could you do ? 

Due(, Sir, I gamed, as I told you. Befides, I kept 
a good table. I eat as well as any man either in Eng- 
land or France. 

Sav, Eat ! did you ever eat the liver of a French- 
man, or his leg, or his (houlder i There is fine eating 
for you ! I have eat twenty. My table was always well 
ferved. My wife was efteemed the beft cook for the 
drefling of man's fle(h in all North-America. You 
will not pretend to compare your eating with mine ? 


DueL I danced very Bnelj. 

Sav. ril dance with thee for thy cars. I can dance 
all day long. 1 can dance the war dance with more 
fpirit than any man of my nation. Let us fee thee 
begin it. How thou ftapdeft like a poft ! Has Mercu- 
ry ftnick thee with hjis^nfeebling rod ? Or art thou 
afhacned to let us fee how awkward thou art ? If he 
would permit me, I would teach thee to dance in a 
. way that thou haft never yet learned. But what elfe 
canft thou do, thou bragging rafcal ? 

DueL O mifery ! muft 1 bear all this ! What can I 
do with this fellow ? I have neither fword nor piftol ; 
and his ihade feems to be twice as ftrong as mine. 

Mer. You muft anfwerhis queftions. It was your 
own dcfire*o have a converfajtion with him. He is 
not well bred ; but he will tell you fome truths which 
you muft neceflarily hear, when you come before Rha- 
damamhus. He alked you what you could do befide 
eating and dancing. 

DueL I fung very agreeably. 

Sav. Let hjc hear you iing your death fong, or the 
war whoop. I challenge you to iing. Come, begin. 
The fellow is mute. Mercury, this is a liar. He has 
told us nothing but lies. Let me pull out his tongue. 

DueL The lie given me ! and alas ! I dare not rc- 
fent it 1 What an indelible difgrace to the family of the 
Puftiwells ! This is indeed tormenting. 

Mer. Here, Charon, take thefe two favages to your 
care. How far the barbarifm of the Mohawk will ex- 
cufe his'horid afts, 1 leave Minos to judge. But what 
can be faid for the Englilhman ? Can we p'ead the cuf- 
tom of Duelling ! A bad excufe at the beft ! but here 
it cannot avail, i'he fpirit that urged hioi to draw his 
fword againft his friend is not that of honor ; it is the 
fpirit of the furies ; and to them he muft go. 

Sav. If he is to be punifhed for his wJckcdnefs, 
turn him over to me. I perfc<Stly under ftand the art 
of tormenticg. Sirrah, I begin my work with this box 

E 2 ♦ 


on your ears, and will foon teach you better mancers 
than you have yet learned. 

Duel. Oh my honor, my honor^ to what infamy 
art thou fallen ! 

Speech of an Indian Chief, of the Stock- 
BRipGE Tribe, to the Massachusetts Congress^ 
in the year i 775* 

Brothers ! 

YOU remember, when you firft came over the 
great waters, I was great and you were little ; 
very fmall. I then took you in for a friend, and kepfr* 
you under my arms, (o that no one might injure you. 
Since that time we have ever bcjsn true friends : there 
has never been any quarrel between us. But now our 
conditions are changed. You are become great and 
tall. You reach to the clouds. You are ken all 
round the world. I am become fmall \ very little. I 
am not fo high as your knee. Now you take care of 
me ; and I look to you for protection. 

Brothers ! I am forry to hear of this great quarrel 
between you and Old England. It appears that blood 
muft foon be flied to end this quarrel. We never till 
this day underftood the foundation of this quarrel be- 
tween you and the country you came from. Brothers ! 
Whemever I fee your blood running, you will foon 
jBnd me about you to revenge my brothers* blood. 
Although I am low and very fmall, I will gripe hold 
of your enemy's heel, that he cannot run fo faft, and 
fo light, as if he had nothing at his heels. 

Brothers ! You know I am not fo wife as you are, 
therefore I aik your advice in what I am* now going to 
fay. I have been thinking, before you come to adlion, 
to take a run to the weftward, and feel the mind of 
my Indian brethren, the Six Nations, and know how 
th^y ftand j whether they are on your fide, or for 


your enemies. If I find they are againft yon, I wiU 
try to turn their minds. I think they will liften to 
me *, for they ha^e always looked this way for advice, 
concerning all important news that comes from the 
rifing fun. If they hearken to me, you will not be 
afraid of any danger from behind you. However their 
minds are affe6bed, you fhall foon know by me. Now 
I think I can do you more fervice in this way than by 
marching off immediately to Bofton, and (laying there. 
It may be a great while before blood runs. * Now, as 
I faid, you are wifer than I, I leave this for your cotb- 
fideration, whether I come down immediately, or wait 
till I hear fbme blood is fpilled. 

Brothers! I would not have you think by this, 
thjat we are falling back from our engagements. We 
are ready to do any thing for your relief, and ihall be 
guided by your counfel. 

Brothers I One thing I aik of you, if you fend for 
me to fight, that you will let me fight in my own 
Indian way. I am not ufed to fight Englifh hihion ; 
therefore you muft not expeA I can train like your 
men. Only poipt out to me where your enemies keep, 
and that is all I ihall want to know. 

On the Creation of the World, 

r I lO the ancient philofophers, creation from noth- 
1 ing appeared an unintelligible idea. They main- 
tained the eternal exiftence of matter, which they 
fuppofed to be modelled by the fovereign mind of the 
' ' univerfe, into the form which the earth now exhibits. 
But there is nothing in this opinion which gives it any 
title to be oppofed to the authority of revelation. The 
dodlrine of two felf-exiftent, independent principles, 
God and matter, the one aftive, the other pailive, is a 
hypothefis which prefents dlfiiculties to human reafon, 
at lead as great as the creation of matter from nothing. 
A dhering then to the teftimony of fcripjure, we belief'-- 


that <« in the beginning, God created," or from non-cx- 
iftence brought into being, <*the heavens and the earth." 
But though there was a period when this globe, 
with all that we fee upon it, did not exift, we have 
no reafon to think, that the wifdom and power of the 
Almighty were then without exercife or employment. 
Boundlefs is the extent of his dominion. Other 
globes and worlds, enlightened by other funs, may 
then have occupied, they ftill appear to occupy, the 
immenfe 'regions of fpace. Numbcrlefs orders of be- 
ings, to us unknown, people the wide extent of the uni- 
verfe, and afford an endlefs variety of objects to the 
ruling care of the gre^t Father of all. At length, in 
the courfe and progrefs of his government, there ar- 
rived a period, when this earth was to be called into 
• exiftence. When the fignal moment, predeftinated 
from jM eternity, was come, the Deity arofe in his 
might, and with a word created the world. 

What an illuftrious moment was that, when, from 
non-exiftence, there fprang at once ihto being this 
mighty globe, on which fo many millions of creatures 
now dwell ! No preparatory meafures were required. 
No long circuit of means was employed. *« He ipake ; 
and it was done : He commanded, and it ftood faft." 
The earth was, at firft, ** without form, and void ; 
and darkngfs was on the face of the deep/' The Al- 
mighty furveyed the dark abyfs ; and fixed bounds to 
the feveral divifions of nature. He faid, « Let there 
be light, and there was light." 

Then appeared the fea, and the dry land. The 
mountains rofe ; and the rivers flowed. The fun and 
moon began their courfe in the fkies. Het-bs and plants 
clothed the ground. The air, the earth, and the wa- 
ters, were itored with their refpe^Mve inhabitants. At 
laft, man was made after the image of God. He ap- 
peared, walking with countenance ereftj and receiv- 
ed his Creator's benedi^ion, as the lord of this new 
world. The Almighty beheld his work when it was 
^niihed, and pronounced it good. Superior beings faw 


with wonder this new acceffion to cxiftencc. <* The 
morning ftars fang together 5 and all the fons of God 
ihouted for joy." 

But, on this great work of creation, let us not mere- 
ly gaze with aftonifhmcnt. Let us confider how it 
Ihould aiFeA our condu£l, by prefenting the divine per- 
fe^ions in a light which is at once edifying and com- 
forting to man. It difplays the Creator as fupreme in 
power, in wifdom,and in goodnefs. Let us look around, 
and furvey this ftupendous edifice, which we have been 
admitted to inhabit. Let us think of the extent of the 
different climates and regions of the earth ; of the mag- 
nitude of the mountains, and of the expanfe of the 
ocean. Let us conceive that immenfe globe which con- 
tains them, launched at once from the hand of the Al- 
mighty 5 made to revolve inceffantly on its axis, that 
it might produce the viciflitudcs of day and night ; 
thrown forth, at the fame time, to run its annual courfe 
in perpetual circuit through the heavens. 

After fuch a meditation, where is the greatnefi, 
where is the pride of man ? Into what total annihila- 
tion do we fink, before an omnipotent Being ? Rever- 
ence, and humble adoration ought fpontaneoufly to 
arife. He, who feels no propenfity to worihip and 
adore, is dead to all fenfe of grandeur and majefty v 
has extinguiihed ohe of the moit natural feelings of the 
human heart. 

Lines spoken at a School-Exhibition, 


YOU'D fcarce expeft one of my age. 
To fpeak in public, on the ftage ; 
And if I chance to fall below 
Demofthenes or Cicero, 
Don't view me with a critic's eyej, 
But pafs my imperfections by. . 


Large ftrcams from Irttlc fountains flow ; 

Tall oaks from little acorns grow : 

And though I now am fmall and young, 

Of judgment weak, and feeble tongue; 

Yet all great learned men, like me, 

Once Icarn'd to read their A, B, C, 

But why may not Golumbia's foil 

Rear men as great as Britain's ifle ^ 

Exceed what Greece and Rome have done, 

Or any land beneath the fun ? 

Mayn't Maflachufletts boaft as great 

As any other fifter ftate ? 

Or, where's the town, go far and near. 

That does not find a rival here ? 

Or, where*s the boy, but three feet high, 

Who's made improvements more than I ? 

Th^^fe thoughts inf^ire my youthful mind 

To be the greateft of mankind j 

Great, not like Cefar, ftain'd with blood ^ 

But only great, as I am good. 

Extract from Mr, Pitt's Speech in the 
British Parliament, in the Year 1766, on 
THE Subject of the Stamp- Act, 

IT is a long time, Mr. Speaker, fince I have attended 
in parliament. When the refolution was taken in 
the Houfe to tax America, I was ill in bed. If I 
4ould have endured to have been carried in my bed, 
fo great was the agitation of my mind for the confe- 
quences, that I would have folicitcd ibme kind hand 
to have laid me down on this floor, to have borne my 
teftimony againft it. It is now an aA that has pafled. 
I would fpeak with decency of every zQ, of this Houfe ; 
but I mud beg the indulgence of the Houfe to fpeak 
of It with freedom. 

I hope a day may be foon appointed to confider the 
^e of the nation with refpe£l to America. I hope 


gentlemen will come to this debate with all the temper 
and impartiality that his Majefty recommends» and the 
importance of the fubjeft requires. A fubjcft of great- 
er importance than ever engaged the attention of this 
Houfe ! that fubjeft only excepted, when, nearly a cen- 
tury ago, it was the quedion, whether you yourfelves 
were to be bond or free. In the mean time, as I can* 
not depend upon health for any future day, fuch is the 
nature of my infirmities, I will beg to fay a few words 
at prcfent, leaving the juftice, the equity, the policy, 
the expediency of the aft to another time. 

I will only fpcak to one point, which feems not to 
have been generally underftood. Some gentlemen feem 
to have confidered it as a point of honor. If gentlemen 
cohfider it in that light, they leave all meafures of 
right and wrong, to follow a delufion that may lead to 
deilruftion. It is my opinion that this kingdom has 
no right to lay a tax upon the Colonies. When in this 
Houfe we give and grant, we give and grant what is 
our own. But in an American tax, what do we do ? 
We, your Majefty*s commons of Great-Britain, give 
arid grant to yoar Majefty, what ? oqr own property ? 
No. We give and grant to your Majefty, the property 
of your Majefty's commons of America. It is an ab- 
furdity in terms. 

There is an idea in fomc, that the Colonic are vir- 
tually reprefented in this Houfe. I would fain know 
by whom an American is reprefented here ? Is he rep- 
refented by any knight of the fliire, in any county in 
this kingdom ? Or will yoii tell him that he is repre- 
fented by any reprefentative of a borough^ a borough^ 
which perhaps no ifnan ever faw ? This is what is call- 
ed the ratten part of the Conftitution. It cannot con- 
tinue a jcentury. if it does not drop, it mufl be ampu- 
tated. The idea of a virtual reprefentation of America, 
in this Houfej is the moft contemptible idea that ever 
entered into the head of a maa. It does not deferve 
a ferious refutation^ 


The Commons of America, reprefented in their fev* 
eral afTemblies^ have ever been in pofieiEon of the exer- 
cife of this, their conflttutional right of giving and 
granting their own money. They would have been 
flaves if they had not enjoyed it. 

A great deal lias been faid without doors^ of the 
power, of the ftrength of Anierica. It is a topic which 
ought to be cautioufly meddled with. In a good caufe, 
on a found bottom, the force of this country can crufh 
America to atoms. I know the valour of your troops. 
I know the Ikill of your officers. There is not a com- 
pany of foot that has (erved in America, out of which 
you may not pick a man of fufficient knowledge and 
experience, to make a governor of a Colony there. But 
on this ground, on the Stamp- Aft, when fo many here 
will think it a crying injuflice, I am one who will lift 
up my hands againft it. 

la fuch a caufe, your fuccefs would be hazardous. 
America, if (he fell, would fall like the ftrong man. 
She would embrace the pillars of the State, and pull 
down the conftitution along with her. Is this your 
boafted peace ? Not toiheath the fword in its fcabhard, 
but to Iheath it in the bowels of your Countrymen ? 
Will you quarrel with yourfelves, now the whole Houfe 
of Bourbon is united againft you ? 

The Americans^ have been wronged. They have 
been driven to madnefs by injufticc. Will you puni(h 
them for the madnefs you have occafioned ? Rather 
let prudence and temper come firft from this fide. I 
will underfake for America, that fhe will loliow the 

Upon the whole, I will beg leave to tell the Houfe 
what is really my opinion. It is that the Stamps Aft 
/be repealed abfolutely, totally, and immediately. 


Scene from the Farce of Lethe. 
Efttir Mr. and Mrs* Tatoo, and JEso?. 

M <r * 'WT^^ ^^'^'^ y^'^ t,omt, along, Mr. 
Mrs.iau YY jatoop what the deuce arc you 

afraid of? 

Ms. Don*t be angry, young lady ; the gentleman 
is your huCband, I fuppofe. 

Mrs. Tat. How do you know that, Sir ? What, you 
an*t all conjurers in this world, are you ? 

Mf- Your behaviour to him is a fufficient proof of 
his condition, without the gift of conjuration. 

Mrs. Tat. Why, I was as free with him before mar- 
riage as I am now \ I never was coy or prudifh in my 

y£f. I believe you, madam -, pray, how long have 
you been married ? You feem to be very youngs 

Mrs. Tat. I am old enough for a hufband, and 
have been married long enough to be tired of one. 

JEf. How long, pray ? 

Mrs. Tat. Why above three months: I married 
Mr. Tatoo without my guardian's confent. 

Mf. If you married him with your own confent, I 
think you might continue your afFeftion a little longer. 

Mrs. Tat. What fignilies what you think, if I don't 
think fo ? We are quite tired of one another, "and are 
come to drink fome of your le — lethaly — le-iethily, I 
think they call it, to forget one another, and be unmar- 
ried again. 

Mf. The waters can't divorce you, madam *, and 
you may eafily forget him without the affiftance of 

Mrs. Tat. Aye ! how fo ? 

Mf. By remembering continually he is your huf- 
band : there are feveral ladies have no other receipt. 
But what does the gentleman fay to this i 


Mrs. Tat. What iignifies what he fays ? I an*t fo 
young and fo foolifh as that comes to, to be directed 
by my bufband, or to care what either he fays, or you 

Mr. Tat. Sir, I was a drummer in a marching regi- 
ment, when I run away with that youns iady. I im- 
mediately bought out of the corps, and tnought myfeif 
made forever ; little imagining that a poor vain fellow* 
was purchafiog fortune at the expenfe of his happinefs. 

^/. * Tis even fo, friend ; fortune and felicity are 
as oftex) at variance as man and wife. 

Mr. Tat. I found it fo. Sir. This high life (as I 
thought it) did not agree with me j I have not laughM 
and fcarccly flept, fince my advancentent \ and unlefs 
your worihip can alter her notions, I mu(l e'en quit the 
blefSngs of a fine lady and her portion, and, for con- 
tent, have recourfe to eightpence a-day and my drum 

JEJl Pray, who has advlfed you to a feparation ? 

Mrs. Tat. Several young ladies of my acquaintance ; 
' who tell me they are not angry at me for marrying 
him, but for being fond of him fince I have married 
him ; and they fay I ihouM be as complete a fine lady 
as any of thep^ if J would but procure a (eparate di- 

JS/. Pray^ madam, will you let me know what you 
call a fine lady ? 

Mrs Tat. Why, a fine lady, and a fine gentleman, 
are two of the fined things upon earth. 

JEf, I have juft now had the honcN* of knowing 
what a fine gentleman is ; fo, pray confine yourfelf to 
the lady. 

Mrs. Tat. A fine lady, before marriage, lives with 
her papa and mama, who breed her up till fhe learns 
to cle(pi(e rbem, and refolves to do nothing they bid 
her ; this makes her fuch a prodigious favourite, that 
(he wants for nothing. And when once {he is her o wn 
mif^refs, then comes the pleafure ! ' 

/^/p Pray let ys hear. 


Mrs. Tat. She lic9 in bed ali the morning, rattles 
about all day^ and fits up all night ; fhe goes every 
where, and fees every thing ; kno«vs, every body, and 
loves no body ; ridicules her friends, coquets with her 
lovers, fets them together by the ears^ tells fibs, makes 
mifchief, buys china, cheats at cards, keeps a lap-dog, 
and hates the parfon ; fhe lauj^hs mnch, talks loud, 
never blufhes, fays what fhe will, does what ihe will, 
goes where (he will, marries whom ihe pleafes, hates 
her hufband in a month, breaks his heart in four, be- 
comes a widow, flips from he^ gallants, and begins the 
world again. There's a life for you \ what do you 
, think of a fine lady now i 

Mf. As I expefted; You are vgry yonng, madam, 
and, if you are not very careful, your natural propen- 
fity to noife and affeflation will run you headlong into 
folly, extravagance, and repentance. 

Mrs^ Tat. What would you have me do ? 

JEf, Drink a large quantity of lethe to the lofs of 
your acquaintance ; and do you, Sir, drink another, 
to forget this^ialfe ftep of your wife ; for whilft you 
remember her folly, you can never thoroughly regard 
her : ^nd whilft you keep good company, madam, as 
you call it, and follow their example, you can never 
.have a juft regard for your hufband j fo both drink 
and be happy. 

Mrs. Tat. Well, give it me whilft I am in humour, 
or I (hall certainly change my mind again. 

-K • Be patient till the reft of the company drink, 
and divert yourfelf in the mean time with walking in 
. the grove. 

Mrs. Tat. Well, come along, hufband, and keep 
me in humour, or I fhall beat you fuch an alarum sis 
you never beat in all your life. 


Extract from the Eulogy on Dr. Frakk- 



A SECOND creation his taken place; the cl6- 
mentk of fociety begin to cotnl^ine together ; the 
moral univerfe is now feeit iffuing from chaos ; the 
genius of Liberty is awakened, and fprings up; fhe 
Iheds her divine light and creative powers upon the 
two hemifpheres. A great nation, aftoniflied at feeing 
herfelf free, ftretches her arms from one extremity of 
the earth ta the other, anS embraces the firft nation 
that became fo : the foundations of a new city are cre- 
ated in the two worlds ; brother' nations haften to in- 
habit it. It is the city of mankind ! 

One of the firft founders of this uni^erfal city was 
the immortal FRANKLIN, the deliver of America. 
The fecond founders, who accelerated this great work, 
made it worthy of Europe. The legillators of France 
have rendered the moft folemn homage to his memory. 
They have faid, *< A friend of humanity is dead ; 
mankind ought to be overwhelmed with forrow ! Na- 
tions have hitherto only worn mourning for Kings; 
let us aflume it for a man, and let the tears of Frencli- 
men mingle with thofe of Americans, in ord^r to do 
honor to the memory of ond of the Fathers of Lib- 
erty !" 

The city of Paris, which once contained this philof^ 
opher within its walls, which was intoxicated with the 
pleafnre of hearing, admiring, and loving him ; of 
gathering from his lips the maxims of a moral legifla- 
tor, and of imbibing from the efibfions of his heart a 
paffion for the public welfare, rivals Bofton and Phila- 
delphia, his two native cities (for in one he was bom as 
it were a man, and in the other a legiflator) in its pro* 
fovnd attachment to his merit and his glory. 


It has commanded this funeral folemnity in order to 
perpetuate the gratitude and the grief of this third 
country, which, by the courage and aftivity with which 
it has profited of his leffons, has ftiown itfelf worthy of 
having him at once for an in{lru£^or and a model. 

In. lelefting me for the interpreter of its wifhes, it 
has declared, that it is lefs to the talents of an orator, 
than to the patriotifm of a citizen, the zeal of a preach- 
er of liberty, and the fenfibility of a friend of men, that 
il hath confided this foleam function. In this point of 
view, I may fpeak with firm confidence ; for I have 
the public opinion, and the teftimony of my own con- 
fcience, to fecond my wifhes. Since nothing elfe is 
wanting than freedom, and fenfi.bility, for that fpecics 
of eloquence which his eulogium requires, I am fatit 
fied ; for I already poflefs them. • . '' 

My voice ihall extend to.^Frai\cc, 'to America, to 
poftcrity. I am now to* do juftice to a great man, the 
founder of tranfatlantic freedom ^"^I am to pfaife him 
in the name of the mother, city of French liberty. I 
myfelf alio am a man ; I am a free man ; I poflefs the 
fuffrages of my fellow-citizens : this is enough ; my 
difcQurie fhall be immortal. . 

The academies, the philofophical focleties, the learn^ 
cd aflbciations which* have done themfelves honor by in- 
fcribing the name of Franklin in their records, can beft 
appreciate the debt due to his genius, for having ex- 
tended the power of man over nature, and prefented 
new and fublime ideas, in a flyle fimple as truth, and 
pure as light. * 

It is not tb<^aturalift apd the philofopher.that the 
orator of the commons of Paris ought to defcribe ; it 
is the tnan, who hath accelerated the progrefs of focial 
order ; it is the legiflatory who hath prepared the lib- 
,€rty of nations. 

Franklin, in his periodical works, which had prodi- 
gious circulation on the continei3t of America, laid the 
facred foundations of foqial morality. He was no lefs 
inimitable in the developements of the fame moraiitv. 

F 2 - 



when applied to the duties of friendfhip, general char- 
Ity, the employment of one's time, the happinefs at- 
tendant upon good works, the ncceffary combination 
of private with public welfare, the propriety and ne- 
ceffity of induftry y and to that happy fVate which puts 
^s at eafe with fociety and with ourfelves. The prov- 
erbs jof " Old Henry,*' and " Poor Richard/' are in 
the hands both of «the learned and the ignorant ; they 
contain the moft fublime morality, reduced to popular 
language and common compreheniion y and form the 
catechifm of happinefs for all mankind. 

Franklin was too great a moralift, and too weU 
acquainted with human a^irs, not to perceive that 
women were the arbiters of manners. He ftrove to 
perfect their empiz:e ; and accordingly enga^d them 
to adorn the fceptre of virtue with their graces. It is 
in their power to excite courage 5 to overthrow vice, 
by means of their difdain ; to kindle civifm, and to light 
up in every heart the holy love of our country. 

4 His daughter, who was opulent and honored with 
the public edeem, helped to manufa^re and to make 
up the clothing for the army with her own hands ; 
and fpread abroad a noble emulation among the female 
citizens, who became eager to aiEft thofe by means of 
the needle and the fpindle, who were ferving the ftate 
with their {words and their guns. 

With the charm ever attendant upon true wifdom 
and the grace ever flowing from true fentiment, this 
grave philofopher knew how to converfe with the other 
fex ; to infpire them with a tafte for'dome(Kc occupa- 
tions; to hold out tiNhemgthe prize ^tendant upon 
honor unaccompanied by reproach, and inftii the duty 
of cultivating tte^rft precepts of educatioi^inr oMer 
to teach them td their children ; and tbtll to acquit 
the debt doe to nature, and fulfil the hope of fociety. 
It mui^ be acknowledged, that in his ov^n country, 
he addrefied himfe]| to minds capable of comprehend- 
ing him. 


Immortal females of America ! I will tell it to the 
daughters of France, and they only are fit to applaud 
you ! You have attained the utmoft of what your fex 
is capable ; you pofiefs the beauty, the iimplicity, the 
manners, at once, natural and pure ; the primitive gra- 
ces of the golden age. It was among you that liberty 
was firft to have its origin. But the empire of free- 
dom, which is extended to France, is about to carry 
your manners along with it, and produce a revolution 
in morals as well as in politics. 

Already our female citizens, (for they have lately 
become (uch) are not any longer occupied with thofe 
frivolous ornaments and vain pleafures, which were 
nothing more than the ainufements of flavery ; they 
have awakened the love of liberty in the bofoms of fa- 
thers, of brothers, and of hufbands \ they have encour- 
aged them to make the moft generous facrifices *, their 
delicate b^nds have removed the earth, dragged it 
along, and helped to elevate the immenfe amphitheatre 
of the grand confederation. It is no longer the love 
of voluptuous foftnefs that attracts their regard ; it is 
the facred fire of patriotifm. , 

The laws which are to reform educatii^n, and with 
it .the national manners, are already prepared ; they 
will advance, they will fortify the caufe of liberty by 
means of their happy influence, and become the fecond 
faviours of their country ! 

Franklin did not omit any of the means of being ufe- 
ful to men, or ferviceable to fociety. He fpoke to all 
conditions, to both iexes, to every age. This amiable 
moralift defcended, in bis writings, to the moft artlefs 
details ; to the moft ingenuous familiarities ; to the firft 
ideas of a rur^l, a commercial, and a civil life ; to the 
dialogues of old men and children ; full at oUce of all 
the verdure and all the maturity of wifdpm. In fhoru 
the prudent lefibns arifing from the expofition of thple 
ohfcure, happy, cafy virtues, which form fo many links 
in the chain of a good man's life, derived immenfe 
weight from that reputation for genhis which he had 


acquired, by being one of the iirft naturaiifts and great- 
eft philafophers in the univerfe. 

At one and the fame time, he governed nature in 
the heavens and in the hearts of men. Amidft the 
tempefts of the atmofphere, he direfted the thunder; 
amidft the ftorms of Tociety, he direfted tlie paffions. 
Think, Gentlemen, with what attentive docility, with 
what religious refpeft, one niuft hear the voice of a 
iimple man, who preached up human happinefs, when 
it was recollected that it was the powerful voice of the 
fanae man who regulated the lightning* 

He eleftrified the confcienccs, in order to extrafl: th« 
deftruftivc fire of vice, exaftly iii the fame manner as 
he eleftrified the heavens, in order peaceably to invite 
them from the terrible fire of the elements. 

Venerabte old man ! auguft philofopher ! legiflator 
of the felicity of thy country, prophet of the fraternity 
of the human race, what ecftatic happinefs embellifh- 
cd the end of thy career 1 From thy fortunate afylum, 
and in the midft of thy brothers who enjoyed in tran- 
quility the fruit of thy virtues, and the fuccefs of thy 
genius, thou haft fung fongs of deliverance. The laft 
looks which thou didft caft around thee, beheld Ame-, 
rica happy; France, on the other fide of the ocean^, 
free, and a fure indication of the approaching freedom 
and happinefs of the world. 

The United States, looking upon themfelves as thy 
children, have bewailed the death of the father of their 
republic. France, thy family by adoption, has honor- 
ed thee as the founder of her laws ; and the human 
race has revered thee as the univerfal patriarch who 
has formed the alliance of nature with fociety. Thy 
remembrance belongs to all ages ; thy memory to all 
nations 5 thy glory to eternity ! 


Epilogue To Addison's Cato, 

YOU fee mankind the fame in every age : 
Heroic fortitude, tyrannic rage, 
Boundlefs ambition, patriotic truth, 
And hoary treafon, and untainted youth, 
Have deeply mark'd all periods and all climes. 
The noblcft virtues, and the blackeft crimes. 
Did Cefar, drunk with power, and madly bravc^ 
Infatiate burn, his country to enflave ? 
Did he for this, lead forth a fervile hoft 
To fpill the choifeft blood that Rome could boaft ? 
The Britifh Cefar too hath done the fame, 
And doom'4 this age to everlafting fame. , 
Colun^bia's crimfon'd fields ftill fmokc with gore ; 
Her braveft heroes cover all the ftiore : 
The flower of Britain, in full martial bloom> 
In this fad war, fent headlong to the tomb. 
Did Rome's brave fenate nobly dare t' oppofc 
The mighty torrent, fland confefs'd their foes^ 
And boldly arm the virtuous few, and dare 
The defpVate horrors of unequal war ? 
Our fenate too the fame bold deed have done. 
And for a Cato, arm'd a Wafhington ; 
A chief, in all the ways of battle ikill'd, • 
Great in the council, mighty in the field. 
His martial arm and fteady foul aione, 1 

Have made thy legions fliake, thy navy groan, > 
And thy proud empire totter to the throne. j 
O, what thou art, may'ft thou forever be, 
And death the lot of any chief but thee ! 
We've had our Decius too ; and Howe could fay> 
Health, pardon, peace, George fends America ; 
Yet brought deftruftion for the olive wreath ; 
For health, contagion, and for pardon, de^. •' 
Rife I then, my countrymen, for fight prepare •» 
Gird on your fwords, and fearkfs rufh to war : 


*Tis your bold tafk the gcn'rous ftrife to try i 
For your griev'd country nobly dare to die ! 
No pent-up Utica contrafb your powVs -, 
For the whole boundlefs continent is ours I 

An Address, spoken by a vekt small Bot: 

WHEN boys are exhibiting in public, the polite* 
nefs or curipfity of the hearers frequently in-' 
duces them to inquire the names of the performers. 
To fave the trouble of anfwers, fo far as relates (o my- 
felf, my name is Charles Chatterbox. I was born in 
this town ; and have grown to my prefent enormous 
ftature, without any artificial help. It is true, I eat, 
drink, and fleep, and take as much care of my noble 
felf, as any young man about ; but I am a monftrous 
great (Indent. There is no telling the half of what I 
have read. 

Why, what do you think of « the Arabian Tales? 
Truth J every word truth ! There's the ftory of the 
lamp, and of Rook's eggs as big as a meeting-houfe* 
And there is the hidory of Sinbad the failor. I have 
read every word of them. And I have read Tom 
Thumb's Folio through. Winter Evening Tales, and 
deven Champions, and Parifmus, ^nd Parifmenus, and 
Valentine and Orfon, and mother Bunch, and Seven 
Wife Mafters, and a curious book, entitled. Think well 

Then there «s another wonderful book, containing 
£fty reafons why an old bachelor was not married* 
The firft was, that nobody would have him ; and the 
fecond was, he declared to every body, that he would 
not marry 5 and fo it went on flrongcr and ftronger. 
TWri, at ^e clofe of the book, it gives an account of 
his^inirveUous death and burial. And in the appen- 
^ % it tells about his being ground over, and coming 


out as young, and aii frefh, and as fair as ever. Then^ 
every fe;y pages, is a pidure of him to the iife. 

I have alfo read Robinfon Crufoe, and Reynard the 
Fox, and Moll Flanders ^ and I have read twelve de* 
lightful novels, and Irifh Rogues, and life of Saint 
Patrick, and Philip Quarle, and Conjurer Crop, and 
jElbp's Fables, and Laugh and be Fat, and Toby Lump- 
kin's Elegy mi the Btrth of a Child, and a Comedy on 
the Death of his Brother, and an AcroiHc, occafioned 
by a mortal fickoefs of his dear wife, of which fihe re« 
covered. This famous author wrote a treatife on the, 
Rife and Progrefs of Vegetation ; and a whole Body 
of Divinity he comprifed in four lines. 

I have read all the works of Pero Gilpin, whole 
memory was fo extraordinary, that he never forgot 
the hours of eating and fleeping. This Pero was a 
' rare lad. Why, he could (land on his head^ as if it 
were a real pedeflal ; his ieet he ufed for drumAicks. 
He was trumpetter to the foot guards in Queen Betty's 
time i and if he had not blown his breatUaway, might 
have lived to this day. 

Then, I have read the hiftoryof a man who married 
for money, and of a woman that would wear her huf- 
band's fmall-clotbes in fpite of him ; and I have read . 
four books of riddles and rebuiles ^ and all that is not 
half a quarter. 

Now what figtiifies reading fo much if one can't tell 
of it ? In thinking over theft things, 1 am fometimes 
fo loft in company, that I don't hear any thing that is 
faid, till fome one pops out that witty faying, « A 
penny for your thoughts." Then I fay, to be fure, 
I was thinking \yf a book I had been reading. Once, 
in ^is mood, I came very near fawllowing my cup and 
iaucer ; and another time was upon the very point of 
taking dow]\a punch-bowl, that held a gallon. Now, if 
I could have fairly gotten them down, they would not 
have hurt me a jot ; for my mind is capacious enough 
for a china fliop. There is no choking a man of my ^ 
reading. Why, if my mind can contain Genii and 


Giants, fixty feet high, ami enchanted caftles, why nbt 
a punch-howl, and a whole tea-board ? 

It was always conjectured that I (hould be a mon- 
ftrous great man ; and I believe, as much as I do the 
Spanifli war, that I (hall be a perfeA Brobdingnag in 

Well now, do you fee, when I have read a hook, I 
go right oflF into the company of the ladies ; for they 
are the judges whether a man knows any thing or not» 
Then I bring on a fubje£l which will fhow my parts to 
the beft advantage ; and I always mind and fay a fmart 
thing juft before I quit. 

You muft know, moreover, that I have learned a 
great deal of wit. I was the firft man who invented 
all that people (ay about cold tongues, and warm 
tongues, and may-bees. I invented the ^\t of kiffing 
the candleftick when^ lady holds it ; as alfo the plays 
of criminal and crofs queltion \ and above all, I invent- 
ed the wit of paying toir at bridges. In (hort, ladies 
and gentlemen, take me all in all, I am a downright 
curious fellow. 

Howard and Lester, 

A Dialogue on Learning and Usefulness. 

rx T IFE is much like a fiddle : every man plays 

How, I ru. r. L- 

^ J luch a tune as luits him. 

Left. 1 he more like a fiddle, the better I like it. 
Any thing that makes a merry noife fuits me ; and the 
man that does not fet his hours to mufic, has a dull 
time on't. 

How. But, Lefter, are there no ferlous duties in life ? 
Ought we not to improve our minds, and to prepare 
for ufefulness ? 

Left. Why, in the prefent day, a man's preparing 

•himfelf for ufefulnefs, is like carrying coals to New- 

Caftle. Our country is full of ufeful men j ten, at 


kaft^ to yvhtre one is wanted, and all of them ten times 
as ready to (erve the public, as the public is to be fervr 
ed. If every man fhould go to Congrefs that's fit for 
it, the federal city would hardly hold them. 

How, You mean. If all who think themfelves fit 
for it. 

Le/f, No ; I meant as I faid. 

How. Then what do you think fits a man for Con- 
grefs ? 

Lefl, Why he muft be flippant and bold. 

JHfow. What good will that do him, if he is withr 
out knowledge ? 

Lefi, O ! he muft have knowledge to be fure. 

How, Well, muft he not be a man in whom the 
people can truft ? Muft he not underftand politics ? 
and muft he not be able and willing to ferve lus coun- 
try ? 

Le/l, I agreOfcto all that- 

How. Then you fuppofe that the federal city could 
hardly hold all our men who unite eloquence with 
confidence, knowledge with integrity, and policy with 
patriotifm. I fear that a counting houfe would give 
them full accommodation. 

Le/l. I don't go fo deep into thefe matters : but 
this is certain, that when the el^dVion comes, more 
than enough are willing to go. 

How. That, my friend, only proves that more thaji 
enough are ignorant of themfclves : but are there n» 
other ways of ferving the public ? 

Lefi. Yes ; one may preach, if he will do it for lit- 
tle or nothing. He may praclifc law, if he can get 
any body to employ him •, or he may be a Do^or or 
an InftruAor ; but I tell you the country is crowded 
with learned men begging bufinefs. 

How. Then you intend to prepare yourfclf for the 
Ignorant herd, fo that you may not be crowded. 

Le/l. I have ferious thoughts of it. You may take 
your own way, but I'll never wear out a fine pair of 
eyes in preparing myfelf for ufefulnefs, till this ikaie 


public will give me a bond to employ me when I am 
ready to fervc them. 'Till fuch a bond is figned, feal- 
ed, and delivered, I (hall fet my hours to the tune of 
« Jack's alive." To-day's the (hip I fail in, and that 
will carry the flag, in fpitc of the combined powers of 
ycfterdays and to-morrows* 

How. Well, Letter, you can take your choice. I 
fiiall fet my hours to a more ferious tune. I aik no 
bond of the public. If my mind is well fumiOied 
with knowledge, and that fame generous public, which 
has fo uniformly called to her fcrvicc the difcerningi 
ihould refufe my fervices, ftill I fhall poffefs a treafurc, 
which, after a few years of diffipation, you would give 
the world to purchafe, THE RECOLLECriON OF 

Christ's Crucifixion. 

'VTOW darknefe fell 

jL\ On all the region round \ the flirouded fu» 
From the impcn'tent earth withdrew his light ; 
I thirft, the Saviour cry*d^ and lifting up 
His eyes in agony. My God, my God I 
Ah \ why haft thou forfaken me ? exclalm'd. 

Yet deem him not forfaken of his God \ 
Beware that error. 'Twas the mortal part 
Of his compounded nature, breathing forth 
Its laft fad agony, that fo complain'd % 
Doubt not that vail of forrow was withdrawn,* 
And heav*nly comfort to his foul vouchfaf'd. 
Ere thus he cryM, Father ! into thy hands 
My Ipirit I commend. Then bow'd his head 
And died. Now Gabriel and his beav'nly choir 
Of minift'ring angels hov'ring o'er the crofs 
Received his fpirit, at length from mortal pangs 
And fleihly pris'n fet free, and bore it thence 
Upon their wings rejoicing. Then behold 



A prodigy, that to the world announc'd 
A new religion and diffolvM the old : 
The temple's facred vail was rent in twain 
From top to bottom, 'midft th' attefting fliocks 
Of earthquake and the rending up of graves* 
Now thofe myfterious fymbols, heretofore 
Curtain'd from vulgar eyes, and holieft deem'd 
Of holies, were difplay'd to public view : 
The mercy-feat, with its cherubic wings 
O'erlhadow'd, and the golden ark beneath 
Covering the teftimony, now through the rent 
Of that diflever'd vail firft faw the light ; 
A world redeem'd had now no farther need 
Of types and emblems, dimly (liadowing forth 
An angry deity withdrawn from fight 
And canopy'd in clouds. Him, face to face. 
Now in full light reveal'd, the dying breath 
Of his dear Son appeas'd, and purchas'd peace 
And reconcilement for offending man. 

Thus the partition-wall, by Mofes built, 
By Chrift was levcU'd> and the Gentile world 
Enter'd the breach, by their great Captain led 
Up to the throne of grace, opening himfelf 
Through his own flefli a new and living way. 
Then were the oracles of God made known 
To all the nations, fprinkled by the blood 
Of Jefus, and' baptised into his death; 
So was the birthright of the elder born, 
Heirs of the promife, forfeited ; whilft they, 
Whom fin had erft in bondage held, made free 
From fin, and fervants of the living God, 
Now gain'd the gift of God, eternal life. 

Soon as thofe figns and prodigies were feen 
Of thofe who watch'd the crofs, conviAion frtiotc 
Their fear-ftruck hearts. The fun, at noon ^j dark : 
The earth convulfive underneath their fett| -i ; .^ 
And the firm rocks, in fliivtr'd fragments vcut^ 
Rous'd them at once to tremble and believe- ' 
Then was our Lord by heathen lips C9nf(&f«'«i, 


When the centarion cry'd. In very truth ' 

This righteous Perfon was the Son of God ; 
^ The reft, ib heart aflenting, ftood abafh'd, 
Watching in iilence the tremendous fcene. 

The recolledlion of his gracious z(\s. 
His dying pray'rs and their own impious taunts 
Now rofe in fad review ; too late they wiih'd 
The deed undone, and fighing fmote their breafts, 
Straight from God's prefence went that angel forth, 
Whofe trumpet (hall call up the fleeping dead 
At the laft day, and bade the faints arile 
And come on earth to hail this promised hour. 
The day-fpring of falvation. Forth they came 
.From their dark tenemenffe, their ihadowy forms 
Made vifibie as in their fiefhly ftate, 
And through the holy city here and there 
Frequent they gleamed, by night, by day, with fear 
And wonder feen of many : holy feers. 
Prophets and martyrs from the grave fet free^ 
And the firft fruits of the redeemed dead. 

They who with Chrift transfigur'd on the mount 
Were feen of his difeiples in a cloud 
Of dazzling glory, now in form diftinA, 
Mingling amidft the public haunts of men. 
Struck terror to al) hearts : Ezekiel there. 
The captive feer, to whom on Chebar's banks 
The heavens were open'd and the fatal roll 
Held forth, with dire denunciations fiU'd, 
Of lamentation, mourning and of woe, 
Now falling faft on Ifrael's wretched race : 
He too was there, Hilkiah's holy fon. 
With loins clofe girt, and glowing lips of fire 
By Gk>d's own finger touch'd : there might be feen 
• The youthful prophet, Bcltefliazzar nam'd 
Of the Chaldees, interpreter of dreams. 
Knowledge of God beftow'd, in vifions fkill'd. 
And fair, andlearn'd, and wife : the Baptift here, 
Girt in his hairy mantle frowning ftalk'd. 
And pointing to his ghalUy wound, exclaim' J^ 


Te vipers ! whom my warning could not move 

Timely ta flee from the impending wrath 

Now^ fallen on your head i whom I indeed 

With water, Chrift hath now with fire baptiz'd : 

Barren ye were of fruits, which I prefcrib'd 

Meet for repentance, and behold ! the axe 

Is laid to the unprofitable root 

Of every faplefs tree, hewn down, condemned 

And caft into the fire. Lo ! thefe are they, 

Thefe fhadowy forms now floating in your fight> 

Thefe are the harbingers of ancient days. 

Who witnefs'd the Mefiias, and announced 

His coming upon earth. Mark with what fcorn 

Silent they pafs you by : them had ye heard^ 

Them had ye noted with a patient mind. 

Ye had not crucified the Lord of Life : 

He of thefe ftones to Abraham fhall raife up 

Children, than you more worthy of his fiock ^ 

And now his winnowing fan is in his hand. 

With which he'll purge his floor,' and having ftor'd 

The precious grain in garners, will confume • 

With fire unquenchable the refufe chafE 

The Wonders of Nature. 

HOW mighty ! how majeftic ! and how myfteri- 
ous are nature's v^orks ! When the air is calm, 
where fleep the ftormy winds ? In what chambers are 
they repofed, or in what dungeons confined ? But : 
when He, " who holds them in his fift," is pleafei^ 
to awaken their rage, and throw open their prifon 
doors, then, with irrcfiftible impetuofity, they rufh 
forth, fcattering dread^ and menacing deflru^tion. 

The atmofphere is hurled into the mofl tumultuous * 
confufion. The aerial torrent burfts its way over moun- 
tains. Teas, and continents. All things feel the dread- 
ful (hock. All things tremble before the furious bla^-. 
The forefk, vexed and torn, groans under the fcourge 
G a 


Her fturdy fons are ftrained to the very root ,, and »!- 
moft fweep the foil they were wont to fhade. The 
ftubborn oak) that difdains to bend, is dafhed headlong 
to the ground ; and with ihattered arms, with prol- 
trate trunk, blocks up the road. While the flexile 
rted, that fprings up in the marfli, yielding to the guft, 
(as the meek and pliant temper, to injuries, or the re- 
igned and patient fpirit, to misfortunes) eludes the 
force of the ftorm, and furvives amidft the wide-fpread 

For a n^oment, the turbulent and outrageous iky 
feems to be afluaged -, but it intermits its warmth, only 
to increafe its ftrength. Soon the founding fquadrons 
of the air return to the attack, and renew their ravages 
with redoubled fury. The (Vately dome rocks amidft 
the wheeling clouds. The impregnable tower totters 
on its bafis, and threatens to overwhelm whom it was 
intended to proteft. The ragged rocks are rent in 
pieces ; and even the hills, the perpetual hills, on their 
deep foundations are fcarcely fecure. Where now is 
the pface of fafety ? when the city reels, and houfes 
become heaps ! Sleep affrighted flies. Diverfion is 
turned into horror. All is uproar in the elements ; all 
is conflernation among mortals : and nothing but one 
wide fcene of rueful devaftation through the land. 

The ocean (Wells with tremendous commotions. The 
ponderous waves are heaved from their capacious bed, 
and almofl lay bare the unfathomable deep. Flung in- 
to the moft rapid agitation^ they fweep over the rocks ; 
they Ia(h the lofty cliffs, and tofs thenifelvcs into the 
douds. Navies are rent from their anchors ; and, with 

••* tk\l their enormous load, are whirled fwift as the arrow, 
•wild as the winds, along the vaft abyfs. Now they 
climb the rolling mountain ; they plough the frightful 

'^ • ridge ; and fecm to fkim the fkies. Anon they plunge 
,:''* into tfte opt^tiing gulf; they lofe the fight of day j and 
are loft thcmfelves to every eye. 

How vain is the pilot's art ! how impotent the mari- 
ner's ftrength 1 *< They reel to and fro, and ftaggcr 


like a drunken man." Defpair is in every face, and 
death fits threatening on cvcry^ furge. But when Om- 
nipotence pleafes to command, the fiorm is huihed to 
iilence; the lightnings lay aiide their fiery bohs, an<i 
«he billows ceafe to roll. 

Dialogue on Physiognomy. 

Enter Frank and Henry. 

«. » TT appears ftrange to me that people can be 

* J^ fo iinpofed upon. There is no difiiculty ia 

judging folks by their looks. I profefs to know as 

much of a man, at the firft view, as by half a dozen 

years acquaintance. 

Henry. Pray how is that dope ? I fhould wiih t« 
learn fuch an art. 

Fr. Did you never read Lavater on Phyfiognomy ? 

Hen. No. What do you mean by fuch a hard word ? 

Fr. Phyfiognomy means a knowledge of men's 
hearts, thoughts, and characters, by their looks. For 
inftance, if you fee a man, with a forehead jutting over 
his eyes, like a piazza, with a pair of eyebrows^ heavy 
like the cornice of a houfe ^ with full eyes, and a Ro- 
man nofe, depend on it he is a great fcholar and an 
honeft man. 

Hen. It feems to me I (hould rather go below his 
nofe to difcover his fcholarfliip. ^ 

Fr, By no means : if you look for beauty, you niay 
defcend to the mouth and chin *, oth^wife never go 
below the region of the brain. ^ 

Enter George. •* 

Geor. Wen, I have been to fee the man han|;ei|.; 
And he is gone to the other world, with jufl fucj^n 
great forehead and Roman nofe, as you have alwtys 
been praifing. 

Fr. Remember, George, all figns fail in dry 
weather. ^ 

Geor, Now, be honeft, Frank, and own that ther- 


is nothing in all this trumpery of yours. The only 
way to know men is by their adlions. If a man com- 
mit burglary, think you a Roman nofe ought to fav.e 
him from punifhment ? 

Fr. I don't carry my notions fo far as that j but 
it is certain that all faces in the world are different ; 
and equally true that each has fome marks about it^ 
by which one can difcover the temper and chara^er 
of the perfon. 

Enter Peter. 

Peter. \To Frank.'] Sir, I have heard of your fame 
from Dan to Beerfheba ; that you can know a man by 
his face, and can tell his thoughts by his looks. Hear- 
ing this, I have viiited you without the ceremony of 
an introduction. 

Fr. Why, indeed, I do profefs fomething in that 

Pet. By that forehead, nofe, and thofe eyes of 
yours, one might be fure of an acute, penetrating 

i^r. I fee that you are not ignorant of phyiiogno- 

Pet. I am not ; but dill I am fo far from being an 
adept in the art, that, unlefs the features are very re- 
markable, I cannot determine with certainty. But 
yours is the moft ftriking face I ever faw. There is a 
certain firmnefs in the lines, which lead from the outer 
verge to the centre of the apple of your eye, which 
denotes great f orecaft, deep thought, bright invention, 
and a genius for great purpofes. 

Fr, You are a perfedt mafter of the art. And to 
fliaw you tbat I know fomething of it, permit me to 
obfervc, that the form of your face denotes franknefs, 
truth, and honefty. Your heart is a ftranger to guile, 
your lips, to deceit, and your hands, to fraud. 

P^f, I niuft confefs that you have hit upon my true 
character \ though a different one, front what I have 
faft^ped in the view of the world. 


fr. \To Henry and George.^ Now fee too ftrong 
•xamples of the truth of phyfiognomy. {While he u 
[peaking thisy Peter takes out his pocket-book^ and makes cff 
luith himfelf.^ Now, can you conceive, that without 
this knowledge, I could fathom the character of a totat 

Hen. Pray tell us by what marks you difcovered 
that in his heart and lips was no guile, and in his 
hands, no fraud ? 

Fr. Ah, leave that to me ; we are not to reveal 
our fecrets. But I will (how you a face and a character, 
which exaftly fuits him. {^Feels for his pocket book in 
both pockets f loeks wildly and concerned J^ 

Geor, [Tauntingly.'] Aye, « in his heart is no 
guile, in his lips no deceit, and in his hands no fraud i 
Now we fee a ftrong example of the power of phyfi* 
€gnomy !" 

Fr. He is a wretch ! a traitor againft every good 
fign 1 I'll purfue him to the ends of the earth* [Of* 
fers to go.] 

Hen, Stop a moment. His fine honeft face is far 
enough before this time. You have not yet difcover- 
ed the worft injury he has done you. 

Fr. What's that ? I had no watch or money for 
him to deal. 

Hen, By his deceitful lips, he has robbed you of 
any juft conception of yourfelf ; he has betrayed you 
into a foolifh belief that you are poflefled of moft ex- 
traordinary genius and talents; Whereas, feparate 
from the idle whim about phyfiognomy, you have had 
no more pretence to genius or learning than a common 
/chooUboy. Learn henceforth to eftimate men's hands 
by their deeds, their lips, by their words, and their 
hearts, by their lives. 


Oration delivered at Paris bv Citizen 
Carnot, President of the Executive Direc- 
tory, AT THE Festival of Gratitude ak» 
Victory, celebrated at the Champ- de-Mars, 
May 29, 1796* 

IT is at the moment when nature is renovated, when 
the earth, adorned with flowers and drefTed in green^ 
promifes new harvefts ; when all beings proclaim in 
their own language, the beneficent Inteiiigence which 
renovates the univerfe, that the French people alTem- 
ble, on this great feftival,to render a didinguifhed horn* 
age to thofe talents and virtues of the friends of the 
couutry and humanity. What day can better unite 
all hearts ! What citizen, what man can be a ftranger 
to the influence of gratitude ! We exift only through 
an uninterrupted courfe of beneficence, and our life is 
but a continual exchange of fervices. 

As foon as born, our eyes, fixed on the heavens^, 
appear already to acknowledge a primary Benefactor* 
Weak, without fupport, the love of our parents watchea 
over our infancy, and provides for wants continually 
renewsd. They direft our firft fteps; their patient 
folicitude affifts in developing our organs ^ we receive 
from them our firft ideas of what we are ourfelves, and 
of furrounding objeAs. Additional care models our 
hearts to afleClion, our minds to knowledge, and our 
bodies to ufeful labour. It is for our happineis, that 
the wife have reflefted on the duties of man 5 that the 
learned have diven into the fecrets of nature y that 
the magiftrate watches, and that the legiflator prepares 
in deliberation proteftiitg laws. 

Soon we are enabled to be ufeful.- Good children, 
we ftrew flowers over the age of our parents, and their 
trembling voice bleflcs us in their laft moments. Be- 
cofiti'e parents in our turn, we prepare, in the education 
of Qur children, the felicity of our declining years 5 


and we thus continue in a new generation the chain of 
benevolence and gratitude* Seniibility is not reftrid- 
«d within th^ family circle ; the indigent is fearched 
for under the thatch*, fuccors and confolation are 
lavifbed ; and the donor, at 6rft paid for the good ac- 
tion by the pleafure of having performed it, is doubly 
rewarded by the gratitude of the objeft. Benevolence ! 
how happy are thy votaries, and how much to e piti- 
ed, the foul that knows thee not ! 

He who is a good fon and a good father is alfo a 
good citizen^ He loves his country ; renders with 
alacrity the tribute of fervices *, he delights in return- 
ing to his brothers the proteftion he has received from 
them. Either magi (Irate or wsH-rior, manufa^urer or 
farmer; in the temple of the arts ; in the Senate ; in 
the fields of glory, or the workfhops of induftry, he 
ihows himfelf ambitious of contributing towards the 
profperity of his country, and to defervc one day its 
gratitude. For there is a national gratitude for indi- 
viduals. At this moment a people are all aflembled to 
^xprefs their gratitude to the virtuous citizens who 
iaave deferved it. How agreeable is the tafk ! How 
we delight in paying you that homage ; you to whom 
the country owes its fafety, its glory, and the founda- 
tion of its profperity \ 

You, to whom France pwea its political regenera- 
tion ; courageous philofophers, whcTfe writings have 
planted the feeds of the revolution, corroded the fet- 
ters of flavery, and blunted by degrees the ravings of 
fanaticifm. You, citizens, whole dauntlefs courage cf- 
fefted this happy revolution ; founded the republic 
and contended thefe feven years again ft crime and am- 
bition, royalifm and anarchy. You all, in a word, who 
labour to render France happy and flourifhin^ ; who 
render it illuftrious by your talents, and enrich it by 
your difcoveries ; receive the folemn teftimony of na- 
tional gratitude. 

Receive that teftiAiony particularly, republican ar- 
mies ; you, whofe glory and fucceis are freft in the 


recoUefHon of all. It is you who have defended us 
againft ten combined kings ; who have driven them 
from our territory ; have transferred to their dominions 
the fcourge of war. Tou have not only conquered 
men ; you have overcome the obftacles thrown in your 
way by nature. You have triumphed over fiitigue, 
hunger^ and winter. What afpeAacleforthe people ! 
what a dreadful leffon to the enemies of liberty f 

A new-born republic arms its children to defend its 
independence ; nothing can reftrain their impetuofi- 
ty I traverfing rivers, carrying intrenchments, climbing 
rocks. Here, after a feries of viftories, they puflied 
back our limits to thofe barriers that nature intended 
for us, and purfuing over ice the remains of three ar«* 
mies, transformed an opprefTed and hoftile nation into 
a free and allied people. There they fly to extermi- 
nate the hordes of traitors and villains, fubfidized by 
England ; punifh their thieves, and reftore to the re- 
public brothers too long miiled. Here, furmounting 
the Pyrenees, and precipitating themfelves from their 
fummit ; overthrowing whatever oppofes their prog- 
rcfs, and checked only by an honorable peace ; there 
afcendtng the Alps and Appenlnes, tiiey fly acrofs the 
Po and Adige. 

The ardor of the foldier is fecbnded by the genius 
and boldnefs of the chiefs. They plan with fcience, 
and execute with energy ; now difplaying their forces 
with calmnefs ; then courting danger at the head of 
their brothers in arms. Oh that i could here drfplay 
the imraenfe and glorious pi£^ure of their viftories ! 
that I could name our moft intrepid defenders I What 
a crowd of fublime images and beloved names prcfs up- 
on my recolleftion ! Immortal warriors, poftcrity will 
not believe the multitude of your triumphs ; but to us 
Mftory lofes all its improbabilities. 

But do we not fee, even on this fpot, a portion of 
thofe brave defenders ? Viftors oyer the exterior ene- 
mies of the fiate^ they have cohit to reprefs our in- 
ternal enemies; and prefervc at home the republic 


whicK they have cauied to be reiepeAed abroad. Do 
we not alfo fee thofe venerable warriors who have 
grown grey in the fefvice \ . thofe whom honorable 
wounds have obliged to feek premature repofe, ani 
whofe afylum is in fight ? With what pleafurc our 
eyes feed on this interefting reuflfion. With what 
agreeable emotions we contemplate thofe vi£lonoiis 
brows ! 

Heroes who have perifiied for liberty, why does there 
remain to us nothing but a recollection of your fervices i 
You will, however, live forever in our hearts ; your 
children will ^ dear to us ; the republic will r^siy to 
them the debt they owe to you ; and we difcharge 
here the firft, by proclaiming your glory and our ^t- 
itude. Republican armies, reprcfentcd here, by war- 
riors from your ranks ; invincible phalanxes, whofc 
trophies I obferve on all fides, whofe fre(h fuccefiles 
i forefee, come forward and receive the trimnphal 
crowns which the French people command me to attach 
to your colours. 

Address of Mr. Adet, French Ambassa- 


THE United States, i 796. 

Mr. President, 

I COME to acquit myfelf of a duty very dear to 
my heart. I come to ilepofit in your hsjids, and 
in the midft of a people jitft^y renownedlEor Their cour- 
age, and their love of liberty, the fymbol of tbi tri- 
umph and the cnfranchifemcnt of my pation. 

When flie broke her chains ; when fee proclaimed 
the imprefcriptible* rights of man; when, in a terrible 
war, fee fealed with her blood the covenant made with 
liberty, her own happinefs was not alone th& objeft of 
her glorious efforts ; her views extended alfo to all 
free people ; fee faw their inierefts blended with her 



own, and doubly rejoiced in her viftories, which, in 
afluring to her the enjoyments of her rights, became to 
them new guarantees of their independence. 

Thefe fentiments, which animated the French na- 
tion, from the dawn of their revolution, have acquired 
new ftrength fince the foundation of the republic. 
France, at that time, by the form of -its government, 
affimilated to, or rather identified with free people, 
faw in them only friends and brothers. Long accuf- 
tomed to regard the American people as their moft 
faithful allies, fhe has fought to draw clofer the ties 
already formed in the fields of America^ under the aut 
pices of viftory over the ruins of tyranny. 

The National Convention, the organs of the .will of 
the French Nation, have more than once exprefled^ 
their fentiments to the American people ; but above all, 
thefe burft forth on that auguft day, when the Minifter 
of the United States prefented to the National Repre- 
fentation, the colours of his country, defiring never to 
lofe recolledlions as dear to Frenchmen as they muft be 
to Americans. The Convention ordered that thefe 
coWurs ihould be placed in the hall of their fittings. 
They had experienced fenfations too agreeable not to 
cauie them to be partaken of by their allies, and de- 
creed that to thend the national colours fhould be pre- 

lft9Prefident, I do not doubt their expeftations 
will be fulfilled i and I am -convinced, that every citi- 
Zf^n will reccivtj with a pleafing emotion, this flag, 
clfewhereil^e* terror of theg enemies of liberty; here 
the certain ple^ljiC of faithful friendChip; efpecially 
when they recolIe^Sl: that it guides to combat, mtn who 
h jve ftiAred their toils, and who were prepared for lib- 
erty, by aiditig them to acquire thc^r own. 


President Washington's Answer. 

BORN, Sir, in a land of liberty; having early 
learned its value ; having engaged In a perilous 
conflid); to defend it ; having, in a wprd, devoted the 
bcft years of my life to fecure it a permanent eftablifh* 
ment in my own country ; my anxious recolleAions, 
my fympathetic feelings, and my beft wifhes are irre- 
iiftably excited, whenfoever, in any country, I fee an 
opprefllid nation unfurl the banners of freedom. But 
above all, the events of the French revolution have 
produced the deepeft folicitude,^s well as the higheft 
admiration. To call your nation brave^ were to pro- 
nounce but common praife. WONDERFUL PEO- 
PLE ! ages to come will read with aftontlhment the 
hiftory of your brilliant exploits* 

I rejoice that the period of your toils and of your 
immenfe facrfices is approaching. I rejoice that the 
interefting revolutionary movements of fo many years 
have ifliied in the formation of a conftitution denned 
to give permanency to the great objeft for which you 
have contended. I rejoice that liberty, whilh you 
have fo long embraced with enthufiafm ; liberty, of 
which you have been the invincible defenders, now 
finds an afylum in the bofom of a regularly organized 
government : a government, which, being fprmed to 
fecure- the happiiiefs of the French people, correfponds 
with the ardent wifhes* of my hearr, while it gratifies 
the pride* of every citizen of the United States, by its 
refemblance of their own. On thefe glorious events 
accept. Sir, my fincere congratulations. • 

In delivering to you thefe fentiments, I exprefs not 
my own feelings only, but thofe of my fellow-citizens, 
in relation to the commencement, the progrefs and the 
iflue of the French revolution ; and they will cordi- 
ally join with me in purefl wifhes to the Supreme Be- 
ing, that the citizens of our fitter republic, our mag- , 
nanimous allies, may foon enjoy, in peace, that liberty, 


^hich they have purchafed at fo great a price^ and all 
the happinefs which liberty can beAow. 

I receive. Sir, with lively fenfitjility, the fymbol of 
the triumphs and of the enfranchifements of your na- 
tion, the colours bf France, which you have now pre- 
fented to the United' States. The tranfadlion will be 
announced to Congrefs 5 and the colours will be dcpof- 
ited with thofe archives of the United States, which 
are at once the evidences and the memorials of their 
freedom and independence. May thefe be perpetual ; 
and may the friend"ihip of the two republics be com- 
menfuratc with their cxiftencc. 

The oppressive Landlord. 

\ Enter JDoN PHitiP and WiFZ. 

^ Y y the famihes out of my long range 
of buildings, and ordered them to pay dout)le the reat 
they. Iipve done, for every day they remain. From 
every new tenant I am determine4 to have three dmes 
the fum. The prefent ren^ will never do in thefe times,. 
Our children will become beggars at this rate \ and you 
and I fhall have to betake ourielves to hand labour^ like 
iht common berdj to earn our daily bread. 

Wife^ . But I fear that fome.of our .tenant*; are toa 

poor to endure .a rent, double to what they now pay; 

and I am certain that it will be impc^ble for them, ail 

to remove, on account of the fcarcity of houfes* to be 

jDbuined, *. 

Don P. That is not my look out. It is enough for 
joe to attend to my own intereft, not theirs* 

JVife, But you will exercife a little lenity towards 
them« at this diftre^ng time. I am perfuaded, my dear^ 
tb^t you will not turn them into the ftreet. Befides,, 
Yt is thought by fome^ that they already pay a reafona- 
Ue rent. 


Don P. I have nothing to do with lenity. Woman, 
would you not have your hufband be looking out againft 
a rainy day ? What would become of you, and your 
children, if I were to fpend my time in ftudying lenity^ 
inftcad of my intereji-table ? I tell you, that now is the 
harvefi time, and 1 am determined to thruft in the fic- 
kle, and reap ray proportion of the crop before the fea*- 
fon's over. The town is crowded with foreigners who 
are exiled from their homes, and neceffity obliges them 
to pay whatever price is demanded, for ^ fhelter to cov-ii 
er their heads. 

Wife. Would you then profit by the neceflitics and 
misfortunes of your fcllovv^creatures ? Thefe exiles arc 
entitled to our compaflion, inftead of experiencing our 

Don P. You talk like a poor weak woman. Did I 
not tell you that T had nothing to do with other peo-^ 
pie's good or ill fortune ? It is rnore than I can* do to 
take care of my own dependants. We (hould'mafce 
fine way ahead, if you were at helm. 1 believe in my 
con(cicnce,that, if you poffeffed the keys of the Srong- 
box, you wpuld fqnander away to the full amfllkt of 
a piftareen a week upon thefe poor ftarving runaways. 
I have not yet forgotten how you lavifhed a whole gal- 
lon of cider upou thofe three miferable wretches that 
cleared out our well, the day before thankfgiving. 
Does this look like taking a prudent care of yoiir fam- 
ily? Pray how 'do you read your Bi We ? Has. not 
Nebuchadne2zar faid, that " He, who provides not for 
, his own houfehold, has denied the faith, aiid is worfe 
than an infidel ?" 

Wife. If you had ftudied your Bible^ as faithfuU/ 
as you have your inter eji'tahle\ you wo^ not havc^ 
put Saint Paul's words into the mouth of the king of 
Babylon. Does not the fame fcripture fay, that "He 
who opprefl!eth the poor, and— — ^ " 

Don P. Hu(h, 1 fay \ one of my tenants approaches. 
Banifli your womani(h feelings ; and let not your un« 
ruly tongue betray your weaknefs^ 


JE«/^ Tenant. 

Ten. Sir, I come to inform you, that I have at bft 
been fortunate enough to procure a fhelter for my fam- 
ily, though an indifferent dne ; and have brought you 
the rent of your tenement, which I quitted with re* 
Instance yefterday. 

Don P. It is well you are out ; for you would have 
met with trouble, if you had remained three days long-^ 
cr. I had ordered my attorney to give dire£tions to an 
officer to tumble all your goods into the flreet, and you 
and your children after them. 

Ten. Then a good Providence has prcferved us. , 

Don P. Providence has fmiled upon me, I eonfefs, 
in gmnting me fuch a riddance. 

Ten. I contend not with an adverfary who is man** 
tied in gold. Will you pleafe to count your money, 
and give me a diCcharge ? 

Don P. [Counts the money."] Why> roan, the fum 
is deficient ; I cannot receipt it. 
; T&n^ It is the fame, Sir, as I paid the laft term. 

DqilP^ That is very true ; but did I not double the 
icnt^Rree days ago ? 

Ten.. You did, indeed; but my reply was, that I 
was utterly unable to pay a higher price ; and as the 
txmie.wa^ fo fhort, I thought you would not fland for 
trifles. , * 

J^on P. Trifles ! If you were to receive it, I believe 
you would not call it a trifle i neither do I. I demand 
the utmoijb farthing. 

Ten. For the f^ke of peace, * though I think your 
demand' CinJAift, I will take your receipt for this, and 
bring the remaimfcr to-morrow. 
^ Don P. %rct a cent will I receive without the wht)le, 
left by fome quibble of the law I lofe the reft. 

Ten. Tour avaricious difpoiition leads you to aA 
contrary to your own intereft. 

Don P. I fliall not apply to you for lefllbns of in- 
ftniAion. .- I fiiall conduct my own afiairs acccHxling to 
my fovereign will and pleafure. Let me tell you. Sir, 


this impudence does not well become a man of your 

vSnp««. <vSir, your honored father never ufed mc 
thus." Alas! he little thought in what oppreilive 
bands he left his large eftate. Could he be permitted 
to revifit the earth, bis ghoft would bauiit your guilty 
foul ^ andj if you have any confcience left, harrow up 
remorfe, and awaken you to repentance. 

Den P. I did not admit a tenant into q^y houfe to 
hear ^ moral le£hire from him. 

Teru If you will take your money, I will cjuit your 
houfe with pleafure. But before we part, give me 
leave to tell you, that though your great wealth has 
exalted you above ' yourfeif, and, in your own opinion, 
placed you beyond the reach of poverty, the time may 
come when you will feel what oppref&on is. 

If^ife. I entreat you to receive the money and be 

Don P. A woman, who can't be iilent in her hus- 
band's preience, efpecially when he is negociating im-^ 
pprtant huiinefs, may take a modeft hint to lesve the 
room. lExi^g^ife. 

Ten. If you are rcfolved not to receive your ^ney, 
I muft carry it home again. And I hope the time is 
not far diftant, when I (hall be out of the reach of your 
oppreffive hands. {Epcit* 

Don P. [&A//.] Every man I deal with is trying 
to cheat me. Mankind are by nature all knaves. I 
am afraid to truft even my beft friends. What an at • 
£i&ion it is to have property ! The poor always think 
that the rich are bound to maintain them, and are 
never fatisfied with what is done for them. My ten- 
ants would be glad to live in my houf^ rent free if 
they could. This, I am perfuaded, they learned of my 
father 5 but I'll foon teach them to expeft different 
things. Rather than matters fhould go on at fuch. 
loofe ends, I'll fell avery one of my buildings, and put 
the money iq bank. My mind is conftantly on .the 
ftretch to contrive ways and means to preferve what 


Hftte I poflefs. It is well my father left hb property 
to me. Had he left it to one of only common under- 
ftanding, thefe plotting tenants would have run away 
with the whole of it. 

Enter fecond Tenant. 

id. Ten. Sir, I appear before you to crave your 
compaffion. I am the moft unfortunate of all your 
tenants. My misf!>rtune is> to be obliged to remain 
in your houfe, after it is your pleafure that I fhould 
leave it. 

Don P. Tc>-morrow I will cure you of your misfor- 
ttine i for if you cannot get out yourfelf, I will help 
you out. 

i.d\ Ten. Why may I not remain ? It may be for 
your intereft as well as mine. I have ever made you 
putiAual payment; and ftand ready now to give as 
much as any other man, or as much as your confcience 
will fuffer you to demand. 

Don P. My will and pleafure is, that you depart 
immediately. My reafons for my conduA 1 give to no 

iMS'en. But, Sir, I have a claim upon your mercy, . 
YoiumB not infenfible of the pains I've taken to accom- 
pliih what you wifli. Neceffity is the only reafon whjr 
I aik this favour. One fpecial reafon why you ought to 
grant it is, that I am now in your fervice with the fame 
falary as in years paft \ when your good father was 
{atisfied with one fourth the fum his craving Ton de- 
mands. I have been you mufl allow, a faithful* flave 
to your children. They have long received, and ftill 
receive my beft inftrudlion, without an augmentation 
of reward. If you. will not hear the plea of mercy, 
grant me ju<J^ce. If you increafe your price of rent, 
increafe my pay. 

Don P. I meddle not with your afiairs. Look out 

for your pay among your employers. I am but one 

, among many, and promife you that 1 (hall not be fore- 

moft to enhance the price of inftruftion, while children 

re' fo numerous. My houfes are my own. I bought 


tl^em with my. own money i and (hall difpofe of them 
at xny own pkafure, 

2d* Ten. . You fpeak ias though you were lord of the 
creation, and had the world at your command. 

Don P. I am lord of my own ppfTtilions ; and (hall 
not a£k my t^paants hpw I am to difpofe of them. 

,zJ, Ten. . Did .you ever rqad, that " Richer take 
to.themfejvcs Mfii^g^t and fly away ?'* 

Don P. I am not appreheniive that any wings are 
attached to my property. 

zJ. Ten, Your mountain may not (land fo Arong as 
yau think it does. The cries of the (atherlcfs and the - 
widow, who have groaned under your oppre(Bon, have 
reached the heavens, and you have reaibu to fear they 
will be .anfwered with vengeance on your head. Did 
you but believe in a futm*e day of retribution, as you 
have impiouily profeiTed, you would ferioufly engage 
in the work of repentance and reformatioa : whichf let. 
me tell you, it is prefumption to iiegleft. 

Re-enitr Ji^Ji Tenant, wtb u Lawyer. 

\fi Ten. I pray you to accept your money, and 
give, me a discharge. ^ 

Don P. 1 told you, not a cent, till the whole anrount 
was paid. 

L0W. That is fufficient. The law allows no force 
in paying debts. Every Creditor has an undoubted 
right to refufe his^-money, when pfFered by his debtor. 
Tbis'he has done before witnefs, I now declare it for- 
feit. Keep it as your own. ' * . ; 

J[}cn P. Rogues will always combine again (t hpne(t 
n^n. The whole world are endeavouring to cheat 
me out of my lawful earnings. My 'beft; friends have 
become :my worft enemies. 

Law. You have no friends 5 nor will ycu ever have, 
(6 long as ycu make an idol of your own dear felf. 

Don P. My property is. my beft friend, and one 
which I truft will ne^ver forfake me. 

[Cry of'^r'e tuitboutr. 


Enter Servant in hafie. 

Sen Sir, your long row of boildings is all in flames ! 

Don P. ImpoiBb'e! — ^Thcy were all to be infured 
to-morrow ! 

Ser. It is ferioufly trye ! and the roofs are now 
tumbling to the ground. 

Don P. Then immediately XzW all hands, and put 
-fire to this, and every other building I poffefs ; that 
they may all go to dcftruftion together. 

2d Ten* That looks fomething like giving wings to 
your riches. 

Don P. If I had had one thimble full of brains, I 
fhould have got them infured before. O horribk ca- 
taftrophe ! . Not only wicked men and devils, but even' 
the elements thcmfelves have turned againft me. 

Law. Compofe yourfelf, dear fir. Your belt friend 
won't be fo cruel as to forfake you, at this critical mo- 

Don P, Is my money fafe ? If that is burnt, Til 
burn myjfelf. Oh that I had permitted my tenants to 
remain, that they and their property might all have 
periled m the flames together. 

Lord Mansfield's Speech in Support ot 
A Bill for preventing Delays of Justice, by 
Reason of Privilege of Parliament, 1770. 

My Loi^s, ^ . . 

I HAVE waited with patience to hear what argu- 
ments might ,be urged againft the bill; but I have 
waited in vain j the truth is, there is no argument that 
can weigh againft it, Tl^e juftice and expediency of 
the bill are fuch as render it felf-evident. It is a pro- 
pofition of that natuffe, that can neither be weakened 
by argument, nor entangled with fophiftry. 

Wg^ll know, that the very foul and eflence of trade, 
afc regular paymcrits j and lad cxjperience teaches us, 


that there are men, who will not make their regular 
payments without the compulfive power of the laws. 
The law then ought to be equally open, to all. Any 
exemption to particular men, or particular ranks of 
tnen> is, in a free and commercial coonj^ry, a folecifm 
of the groffeft nature. 

I will not trouble your lordfhips with arguments for 
that which is fufficiently evident without any. I fliall 
only fay a few words to fome noble lords, who fore- 
fee much inconvenicncy from the perfons of their fer- 
vants being liable to be arretted. One noble lord ob- 
•ferves, that the coachman of a peer may be arretted 
while he b driving his matter to the Houfe ; and, con- 
feqtiently he will not be able to attend his duty in 
Parliament. If this were adlually to happen, there are 
fo many ways by which the member might ftill get to 
the Houfe, that I can hardly think the noble lord is fe- 
rious in his objeftion.^ Another noble peer faid, that 
by this bill we might lofe our moft valuable and -hon- 
eh fervants* This I hc^ld to be a contradiftion in 
terms ; for he can neither be a valBiable lervant nor an 
honeft man, who gets into debt which he is neither 
able nor willing to pay, till compelled by law. 

If my fervant, by unforefeen accidents, has run into 
debt, and I ttill wifli to retain him, I certainly would 
pay the debt. But upon no principle of liberal legif- 
lacion whatever, can my fervant have a title to fet his 
creditors at defiance, while for forty (hillings only, the 
honeft tradefman may be torn from hiis family, and 
locked up in a jail. It is monftrous injuftice ! I flat- 
ter myfelf, however, the determination of this day. will 
entirely put an end to all fuch partial proceedings for 
the future, by paffing into a law the bill now under 
your lordfliips* confideraticJn; 

I come now to fpeak, upon what, indeed, I would 
havfe gladly avoided, had I not been particularly point- 
ed at for the part I have taken in this bill. It has 
been faid by a noble lord on my left hand, that I like- 
wife am running the race of popularity. If the noble 


lord means by popularity, that applaufe bciUmeA iij 
after-ages .on good and virtuous aflions, I have long 
been ftniggling in that race. !3ut if he mean that 
mufhroom popularity, which is raifed without merit an4 
lo(t without a crime, he much miftakes in his opinion. 
I deify the noble lord to point out a fingle a^on of 
my life, where the popularity of the times ever bad 
the fmalleft influence on my determinations. I have a 
more permanent and fteady rule for iny condud,. the 
didbtes of my own bread. Thofe who have foregone 
that pleafing advifer, and given up their ipind to be the 
Have of every popular impulfe, I iSncerely pity. I 
pity them ftill more, if their vanity leads tbem to mit 
take the fliouts of a mob for the trumpet of fame. Ex-, 
perience might inform them, that many who have been 
ialuted with the huzzas of a crowd, one day, have 
received their execrations the next ; and many, who, 
by the popularity of their times, have been held up as 
fpotlcfs patriots, have, neverthelefs, appeared uppn the 
hiftorian's page, when truth feas triumphed over delu- ^ 
fion, the affaffins of liberty. . ► 

Why then the noble lord can think I am ambitious 
of/ prefent popularity, that echo of folly, and ihadow of 
renown, I am at a lofs to determine. Beiides, I do 
not know that the bill now before your lordlhips will- 
be. popular. It depends much upon the caprice of the 
day. It may not be popular to compel people to pay 
their debts ; and, in that cafe, the prefent muft be a 
very unpopular bilL It may not be popular neither to 
take away any of the privileges of parliament $ for 
I very well remember, and many of your lordfhips 
may remember, that not long ago the popular cry wa^ 
for the extenfion of privilege j and fo far did they carry 
it at that time, that it was faid that the privilege pro- 
tefted members eveu in criminal a^ons. Nay, fuch 
wast the power of popular prejudices over weak minds, 
that the very deciiions of fomeof the courts were tinc- 
tured with that doArine* 


It was undoubtedly an abominable doctrine. I 
thought fo then, and think fo ftill : but ncverthclcfs, 
it was a popular doctrine, and came immediately from 
thofe who were called the friends of liberty j how de- 
fervedly, time will ihow. True liberty, in ray opin* 
ion, can only exift when juftipe is equally adminiftered 
to all ; to the king, and to the beggar. Where is the 
juftice then, or where is the law that protefts a mem- 
ber of parliament more than any other man, from the 
puniihment due to his crimes ? The laws of this coun* 
try allow of no place, nor any employment, to be a 
fanfhiary for crimes : and where I have the honor to 
fit as judge, neither royal favour, nor popular applauie 
ihali ever proteft the guilty. 

Extract from a Sermon on the Dav of 

T ET us endeavor to realize the majefty and terror 
1 J of the univerfal alarm on the final Judgment Day. 
When the dead are fleeping in the filent grave -, when 
the living are thoughtlefs and unapprehenfive of the 
grand event, or intent on other purfuits ; fome of them 
afleep in the dead of night ; fome of them difiblved in 
fenfual pleafures, eating and drinking, marrying and 
giving in marriage ^ fome of them planning or execut- 
ing fchemes for riches or honors ; fome in the very 
aA of fin \ the generality ftupid and careiefs about 
the concerns of eternity, and the dreadful day juft at 
hand ; and a few here and there convcrfing with their 
Gad, and looking for the glorious appearance of their 
hoM and Saviour ; when the courfe of nature runs 00 
uniform and regular as ufual, and infidel fcoffers are 
taking umbrage from thence to aflc, " Where is the 
promife of his coming ?" In fhort, when there are no* 
more vifible appearances of this approaching day, than 
of the dcftruction of Sodom, on that clear morning in 
which Lot fled away ; or of the deluge, when Noah en-! 


tercd into the ark : theti, in that hour of unapprchenilvc 
li?curity, then fuddenly Ihall the heavens open over the 
aftonidied worid \ then (hall the alarming clangor breafe 
over their heads like a clap of thunder in a clear Iky- 
Immediately the living turn their gazing eyes upon 
the amazing phetiomenon : fome hear the long expect-* 
cd found with rapture, and lift up their heads with 
joy, aiTured that the day of their redemption is come ; 
while the thoughtlefs world are (truck with the wildeft 
horror and conilernation. In the fame inftant th« 
found reaches all the manfions of the dead ; and in a 
moment, in the twinkling of an eye, they are raifed, 
and the living are changed. This call will be as ani- 
mating to all the fons of men, as that call to a iingk 
perfon, « Lazarus, come forth." O what a furprife will 
this be to the thoughtlefs world ! Should this alarm 
burft over our heads this moment, into what a terror 
would it ftrike many in this aflembly ? Such will be 
the terror, fuch the conflernation, when it aftually 
comes to pafs. Sinners will be the fame timorous, felf- 
condemned creatures then as they are now. And th«n 
they will not be able to (lop their ears, who are deaf 
to all the gentler calls of the gofpel now. 

Then the trump of God will conftrain them to hear 
and fear, to whom the minifters of Chrift now preach 
in vain. Then they muft all hear ; for, " all that 
are in their graves," all without exception, " (hall 
hear his voice." Now the voice of mercy calls, reafon 
pleads, confcience warns ; but multitudes will not hear. 
But this is a voice which fhall, which muft reach every 
one of the millions of mankind, and not one of them 
will be able to ftop his ears* Infants and giants, kings 
and fubje6ls, all ranks, all ages of mankind (hall hear 
the call. The living fbalt ftart and be changed, and the 
dead rife at the found. The duft that was once alive 
and formed a human body, whether it flies in the air, 
floats in the ocean, or vegetates on earth, (hall hear 
the dew-creating fiat. Wherever the fragments o( 
"W human frame arc fcattered, this altpcnetratirig call 


{hall reach and fpcak them into life. We may confiJer 
tbi$ voice as a fummoas not only to dead bodies to rife, 
but to the fouls that once animated them, to appear 
and be re- united to them. 

This fummons ihall fpread through every corner of 
the univerfe ; and Heaven, Earth, and Hell, and all 
their inhabitants, (hall hear and obey. Now methinks 
1 fee, I hear the earth heaving, charnel-houfes rattling, 
tombs burfting, graves opening. Now the nations un- 
der ground begin to ftir. There is a noife and a iha- 
king among the dry bones. . The duft is all alive, and 
in motion, aiid the globe breaks and trembles, as with 
an earthquake, while this vaft army is working its way 
through, and burfting into life. The ruins of human 
bodies are fcattered far and wide, and have pailed 
through many, and furprifing transformations. A limb 
in one country, and another in another \ here the head| 
and there the trunk ; and the ocean rolling between, 
, And now, at the found of the trumpet, they fhall all 
be collectecf, wherever they were fcattered ; all prop- 
erly ibrted and united, however they were coufufed ; 
atom to its fellow atom, bone to its fellow bone. Now 
methinks you may fee the air darkened with fragments 
of bodies, flying from country to country, to meet and 
join their proper parts : 

<f Scattered limbs and all 

The various bones obfequious to the call, 
8elf*-moved, advance ; the neck perhaps to meet 
The diftant head, the diftant legs, the feet. 
Dreadful to view, fee through the dufky iky 
Fragments of bodies in confufion fly, 
I'o diftant regions journeying, there to claim 
Deferted members, and complete the frarne. 
The fevcr*d head and trunlc fhall join once more, 
Though realms now rife between, and oceans roar. 
The trumpet's found each vagrant mote fliall hear, 
Or fix*d in earth, or if afloat in air, 
Obey the fignal, waited in the wind. 
And not one fleeping atom lag behind." » '. 


Christ triumphant over the Apostate 

SO fpakc the Son, and into terror cbang'd 
His countenance, too fcverc to be beheld ; 
And full of wrath bent on his enemies. 
At once the Four fpread out their ftarry wings 
With dreadful (hade contiguous, and the orbs 
Of his fierce charriot roU'd, as with the found 
Of torrent floods, or of a numerous hoft. 
He on his impious foes right onward drove, 
Gloomy as night 5 under his burning wheels 
The ftedfaft empyrean fliook throughout. 
All but the throne itself of God. Full foon 
Among them he arriv'd, in his right hand 
Grafping ten thoufand thunders, which he ftnt 
Before him, fach as in their fouls in^x'd 
Plagues 5 they, aftonifh'd, all refiftance loft. 
All courage ; down their idle weapons dropt ; 
O'er fliields, and helms, and helmed heads, he rode. 
Of thrones and mighty feraphim proftrate. 
That wr(h*d the mountains now might be again 
Thrown, on them as a ihelter from his ire. 
Nor lefs on either fide tempeftuous fell 
His arrows, from the fourfold-vifag*d Four 
Din:in(St with eyes, and from the liviiig wheels 
Diftin£l alike with multitude of eyes ; 
One fpirit in them rul'd, and every eye 
Glar'd lightning, and ftiot forth pernicious fire 
Among th' accursed, that withered all their ftrength. 
And of their wonted vigour left them drain'd, 
Exhauftcd, fpirit^efs, affliSed, fall'n. 
Yet half his ftrength he put not forth, but cheick'd 
His thunder in mid voUej ; for he meant 
Not to dcftroy, but root them out of Heav'n. 
The overthrown he rais'd, and as a herd 
Of goats or tim'rous flock together throng'd, 
^ron^e th^m before him thunderftruck, purfu'd 


Vtith terrors and with furies to the boands 
And cryftal wail of Heaven, which, openiog wide 
Rpird inward, and a fpacipus gap difclos'd 
Into the wafteful deep; the monftrous fight 
Sti-Qck them with horror backward, but far worfc 
Urg*d them behind ; headlong themfelvesthey threw 
Down from the verge of Heaven ; eternal wrath 
Burnt after them to the bottomlefs pit. 

Hell heard th' unfufferable noife ; Hell faw 
Heav'n running from Heav'n, and would have fled 
Affrighted ; but ftridk Fate had caft too deep 
Her dark foundations, and too faA had bound. 
Nine days they fell ; confounded Chaos roar^, 
And felt tenfold confufion in their fall: 
Through his wild anarchy, fo huge a rout 
Incumbered him with ruin. Hell at laft 
Yawning received them whole, and on them clos'd ; 
Hell, their fit habitation, fraught with fire 
Unquenchable, the houfe of woe and pain. 

Di|burden'd Heav'n rejoiced, and foon repaired 
Her mural breach, returning whence it roirj. 
Sole viftor from th* expulfion of his foes^ 
Mefliah his triumphal chariot turn'd : 
To meet him all his faints, who filem flood 
Eye-witneffes of his almighty afts. 
With jubilee advanced ; and as they went, 
Shaded with branching palm, each order bright, 
Sung triumph, and him fung vi<florious King,. 
Son, Heir, and Lord^ to him dominion given 
Worthiefl to reign. He, celebrate<i, rpde , 

Triumphant through mid Heav'n into the courts 
And temple of his mighty Father, thron'd 
On high ^ who into glpry him receiv'd. 
Where now he fits at the right hand of blifs. 

I 2 


Slaves in Barbary ; 
A Drama in two Acts. 

Persons or tbA Drama. 
Hambt, Bajbaiv •/ Tunis . 

AmVnda.,} ^"""'" '" «*«"' *• '■'•^- 

Francisco, Brother to Ozro and Amandar^ fent /* retkem iheyt^ 

Kidnap, jfn American Captive. 

Oram, A Furehafer of Slavts. 

TeaOVI, « An Ififi Captive. ' 

^HARP, An African and Kidnap s $lavt% 

Officer^ AuBioaeer^ Cuardif Attmdauts^ Furebafert of SlaviSy \Sff, 

Scene L 
A Gardetu 

Amandar filusy cQf^ned nukh a chain. 

IN vain the flowers fpread their gaudy colours, and 
fill the air with fragrance. The fun has not a 
cheering beam for me. All nature's fmiles are frowns . 
to him, who wears the chain of bondage. Fifteen 
long monthf; hav^ witncfFed my misfortune : what luck- 
Icfs winds delay Francifco's paflage ? 

" • EnUt Gran ivtth a catn^ 
Oran, Moping fugitive ! quick to your tafk. \BiaU 
nig him.'] I have not placed you here to mutter to the 
herbs a&4:^owers : they need the labour of your hands. 
Let them Jiavc it 5 -or heavier b!o\ys (ball punifh your 
neglect. '^ 

. ^man. Then do your worft ! I aik the fatal blow, 
to put a period to my mifcrics. 

Oran* Your life is in my hands ; but it fhall be 
-^fjrolonged 5 and with your life, V\\ lengthen out your 


,Amm. Uzifeeliiig tyrant ! From you I o nly afk the 
caurderer's office. Speeclvwas defigned f or friendly 
intercourfe ; it ill becomes the tiger. In brutal filence, 
you may tear my flefli : add not the fting of words. , 

Oran, Hah ! Ozro. A flave enlarged is no grate<- 
&1I fight to his old matter. \Ajide. 

Oiro. I come, my brother, to end your fufferings. 

Amaru Welcome ! You know them to be more 
than man can bear. 

Oran. Vile intruder ! are you fo foon intoxicated 
with your liberty ? Quick, flee this place ; or ftronger 
chains, than bound you here before, (hall fober you 

Ozri9. Talk not of chains; but rather learn to 
dread the hand, on which they have been bound. I 
come to execute the orders of your lord and mafter ; 
not to be frighted with your threats. Amandar's 
injuries have reached the ears of the Bafhaw ; and I 
am fent — 

Oran. Tale-bearing renegade ! Well, I ihall learn 
to hufbanid my own property, and ^ive up no more 
flakes for Hamet'is counfellors. Attend your duty ! 

\To Amandar^ftr'ihng him, 

Qzro, Repeat that blow and it (hall coil you dear. 

Oran. CaitiflF! begone from hence ; or even the 
Bafliaw fhall not defend you from my indignation. 
Quick, leave my fight ! 

Ozro» Not while you have it in your power to ex- 
ercife your tyranny over my brother. But yefterday, 
you promifed to fell Amandar for this'ium t here- it is, 
vcsLfkf counted to your hand^. I demand him of you. 

Oran. One half this ium would have bought him 
yefterday. It is my prefent choice to facrlfice my 
pi^opcrty for my revenge. I will double his talk and 
fhorten his allowance, till his pride is reduced, and he 
becomes more profitable by additional feverhy. This 
is my promife to-day : take it for your folace, 


0»ro. Monfter ! would you forever feaft your ibnl 
on the Hiiferies of the unfortunate i Your word is 
pafled ; recal it at the peril of your life. There is your 
money. \Flin^g it at his feet."] Amandar is — 

Oran. When foreign ruffians, who ought to wear 
the chains of bondage, are armed with fwords, all 
right is loft : our property is given to the winds. 
Were it not for what weak heads, and fickly hearts 
call juftice, I'd feaft my dogs upon your flefh.. 

Ozro. Go vent your raiiitigs to the (avage beafts, 
that prey on one another. If you love the law that 
fan£lions cruelty, they are your fit aiFociates. Aman- 
dar, ybu are once more reftored to liberty and life. 
\Cutting cff his hands with hisfwordJ} 

l^Sfcetmt Amandar and OvartK 

Oran. \7aking his money. ] Thefe high*bred fellows 

make but poor flaves. Tis well to fliifr them off at 

any rate. I will take care how I lay out my money for 

the future. , . - \JE9Au 

Scene II. 

l^he Highway* 

OzRO and Amandar. 

Aman. Am I deluded by a dream ? or is this real I 
What angel eye of pity has glanced upon us ? 

Ozro, I would not interrupt thy biifs, nor ftir the 
dregs, which the fair.furface of this draught coneeals. 
But fortune feems to make our happinefs her fpon. 

Atnan. Has not the Bafhaw purcbafed our freedom ? 
What are the conditions ? 

Ozro* That is for time or wild conjecture to deter-> 
mine. We muft deliberate what courfe to take. 

Aman. What doft thou fay ? let me.hear the worft* 

Ozro. You know the circumftanccs of my liberation. 
All had the appearance of affability and pity in the Ba* 
ihaw. He queftioned particularly concerning our fit* 
nation, and feemed moved with, the account I gave. 
1 informed him, our brother was daily expe^ed with 
the gleanings of an unfortunate father's intereft, to re- 


deem us from our chains^ and reftore us to a difconib- 
late family. He turned afide, as though fome fuddea 
emotion had fei^d his mind ; then exclaimed 
*' They fhall be mine !" The money was paid for your 
ranfom, and Committed to me* We are confidered as 
kis property. 

Aman. What then creates fufpicion ? This favor 
has fome claim upon our gratitude. If we muft err, 
let it be on the fide of honor. 

Ozro. So thought I, Amartdar. Thefe were the 
rmprefBons of the moment. But avarice often aflumes 
the appearance of generofity : and malice, to make its 
prey more firre, puts on the guife of pity. If the Ba- 
i-hawr's motive were our happinefs, all, but my freedom, 
I would pledge to pay> the debt of gratitude. But I 
would fooner feek the lion's den, or truft the mercy of 
a tiger, than commit myfelf to a mercenary Turk. A 
father's fortune well may tempt the hypocritic fliow 
of kindnefs to his fons.^ 

Aman, This thought gives weight to your fufpicion. 
Are our misfortunes then the obje(fl of bafe fpecula- 
tion ? This well becomes the dignity of rulers; the 
honor of the prime maglftrate of Tunis I to feek us 
oiit, like brutes, to buy and fell, and fill his coffers on 
the ruins of our family. But fiay. Is there no room 
for charity? Tunis, of all the ftates of Barbary, is fam- 
ed for its refinement. Every Turk is not an Gran. 
I think I have heard the Baihaw noted forhis humanity. 

(ysro. That ruler has but an* ill title to humanity, 
who fuffers his fubjefts to trslffic in the deareft rights 
of mart, and (hares himfclf the execrated commerce. 

Aman. True, my brother. But let us remember 
our native Venice. We have feen the Turk fold there 
in open market, and expofed to all the indignities 
which we have borne with Gran. Nay, more ; we 
may come nearer home, and fpread the blufh on our 
own faces. We both have heard the ftory of the 
grateful Turk, who, by the interceflion of Francifco, 
was twice rcleafed from fervitude. He had a nr" 


fbolf a leeling heart. Though hi^ virtues were dHcov^ 
•red, and finally rewarded by our father, we mayhlu(h 
that they were fo long unheeded by our country meot 
and he fuffered to languifh in ingo^minious bondage. 

Ozro^ Your words have weight. For the fake of 
this noble captive, I will take part of my cenfure from 
the Turks, and fpare it for my countrymen. Though 
this was done before my memory, the ftory paints his 
virtues to my mind ; and had I no other claim, I would 
call Francifco brother for this deed. 

jiman. lifter a paufe.J Can it be ! no ; 'tis too 
much to think of. 

Ozro» What, Amandar ? 

jtman. A thought has ftruck my mind. Help Co 
copfirm, or to refute it. 

Enter Guards abruptly* 

Ozro. IDrawifig.'] Who is here I Stand off! 

• [Guards drana. 

iji. Guard. But look, my lads ! You fee you are 
•utmanned. We arc more than two to one. . 

Ozro, Then keep your dillance, and let us know 
your bufineis : elfc, were you ten to one, Fd make 
your number lefs. 

ift Guard, As to our bufinefe, we are obliged to 
let you know it ; or I believe your fwords would not 
frighten us to it. It is to carry you- to the Baibaw. 

Ozro, On what conditions muft we go ? 

ij} Guard. As to that, we fliall not be nice. Wc 
have no cavalry ye fee ; (o you muft be content to 
niarch on foot. You may take the front, or centre, 
as fuits you bcft. But we (hall not truft you iu the 
rear, if you (how a difpofiticn to defert us ; and^ if 
you arc inclined . to be hoftile, we muft fecure that 

Ozro, I aflc the terms on wliich we are to go ; as 
llaves or freemen ? 

ift Guard, We don't wifli to take the trouble to 
Wnd ^ou. If you are not free to go^ we muft quicken 


yotir march with the point of our fwords. Oar or* 
ders are to return immediately. 

Ozro. Keep us no longer in fufpenie. We now 
are free ; and 

ifi Guard. As to that, I believe you are a little 
mUtaken. The BaQiaw has bought you both, and paid 
for you ; and we fhall look better to his intereft than 
to lofe you for nothing, d'ye fee ? Come, march ! 

Ozro, What is the paltry price compared with 
years of mifery ! Perhaps you know our dcftiny. If 
we're for fale again, tell him, we give the terms. This 
place £haH be the fair, and life the price. 

ly? Guard> I tell you again, we are not eafily fright- 
ed. But I fee you are afraid of getting into Gran's 
hands again. If you choofe to be obflinate, we could 
eafily flicc you in pieces and carry you on the points 
of our fwords. But we don't wifti to fpoil you in fuch 
a manner. Beiides, our matter keeps no cut-throats. 
Our orders were to carry you fafe to the Bafhaw, 
and neither hurt you ourfelyes, nor let any body elfe. 
You may wonder at this extraordinary honor, and 
fo do we. But he takes a liking to Chriftians, and 
is very often doing them a good turn. I fancy 
fomething uncommon is going forward to-day by this 
manoeuvre. Perhaps he is inclined to fin a little in 
your own way, by drinking a few bottles of wine with 

Ozro. [To -Amandar.'\ Their honeft franknefs 
quite unarms me. I hope my fufpicions have been 
groundlefs. • 

Aman. Let us truft ourfelves to their care. I am 
anxious to know the fequel. 

Scene III. 

Hornets Houfe, 

Hamety {Solus.'} The grateful day returns, that 
brings to mind my generous benefaftors. The birth- 


day of my happinefs, my fortune, and my honor. Let 
it be facred to gratitude^ a|id devoted to the fons hf 

Enter Officer* 

Officer^ Noble Sir, the fale of prifoners begins in 
half an hour. Is it your pleafure to attend the auc* 
tion ? 

Hamet, It is. Have them upon the fpot and, fee 

that they are treated with humanity. \_Exk Officer.!^ 

Ill-fated nien 1 their lot is miferablc indeed. ' Twere 

almoO: jufi: to rife above the laws, and give them all 

their freedom. \^ExU Hamet. 

Scene IV. 

The Jireet in Tunis. 

Enter Crier, ringing his bell. 

At half an hour from this time ! will be fold at pub- 
lic auclipn ! to the higheft bidder ! prifoners of all co- 
lours ! forts and fizes I lately captured on the Medi- 
terranean ! and brought frefh into port ! warranted 
free from ficknefs, and wounds ! Alfo, a coniiderable 
number ! a little damaged ! by mufket (hot 1 and can- 
non balls ! and carelefs handling, with long knives and 
broad fwords 1 and for want of wholefome air ! on ea- 
fy terms for the purchafer. [Exit Crier, 

A C T II. 

• Scene I. 

Or AN, ^walking to the fair. 

&ran. [Si>/«/.] Yes, he who frees a ilave, arms an 
affamn. The Bafhaw may learn this to his forrow. Lejt 
him look to that. He has given a high price for ftock, 
that I fhould have been glad to turn upon J^ hands. 
The money will purchafe two for one. Gb'^n's and 
?^anga*s freight of prifoners viU almoft glut the mar- 


ket. The Baihaw may be as o/ftentatious as he pleaiei 
of his boyifh pity : thank fortune, I am not To tender- 
hearted. No : dominion is the right of man. The 
love of power is planted in his nature. But all men 
can't be kings. If there are lords, there mud be ilaves. 
And what ihufl; be, is right. Let moralizers murmur 
at the doArine ; their arguments are (lender threads ; 
feeble as thofe, who fpin them out, from lovers' dreams, 
and children's notions. What is juftice without power ? 
The flave's ideal friend i whom he would wifh to 
break his chains ; on whofe credit, he would eftablifk 
Mniverfal government } then difiblve connexion, and 
iliut his partner up in prifon. [^Exit Oran. 

Scene IL 

T^e fare^ a large fquare. 

Enter Officer, nmth a draivn fword; Zanga and 
Gorton, nvith fwords^ followed by prifoners pinioned ; 
Sailors in the rear ; Auctioneer, tsfc. Sharp, a tie" 
gro^Jlanding by Gorton, 

Officer bringing forward ^*ch and wounded, 
AuBhneer, Here, gentlemen, is a lot we (haU not 
differ about. For the fake of difpatch, we will put up 
all the fragments together. Here are a number with 
broken legs, arms, &c. and a number more with mortal 
wounds, that may get well, or may not. That is your 
rifk \ I (hall not warrslnt them. Upwards of a dozen : 
count for yourfelves. Who bids ? 
Enter WhliL^Ty and attendants ; ftlence obfervedy and alt 
pay him obeifance 
Sharp. Dat a man, a planter, maffer Gorton. 

[7<7 Goripn, 
Ai^, Examine for yourfelves : who bids ? 
Oran„ Four hundred fequins for the whole. 
AuEi, That is fcarce the price of one good aHc- 
bodied flave. 

Oran, They will not do me half the fcrvice at pref- 
ent> The greater part of them are not a'ble to cook 


their own food ; much lefs to earn it. Yet they muft 
be fed j or they will die on my hands, you know. 
And a fick or dead flave is the very worft of dead 
ftock. Fll give no morCi 

Hamet. Thefe unfortunate men are tlie objefts of 
compaffion, not of unfeeling farcafm. Raife their 
price to five hundred, and charge them to my account. 
Servants, fee them removed to the hofpititl. Let a 
furgeon be employed to heal their wounds, and reftorc 
them to health. {Prifonert bowing refpeBfully,'] 

\_Exeunt fervants Mftd prisoners. 

Sharp, Dat a good planter, m^er Gorton. He. good 
to white man ; and be he good to poor negur man too ? 
Officer bringitig formaard a nun&er. 

AuEl. Here are a parcel of lads of the firft quality ; 
fuperfine ; the fons of noblemen. Their relations will 
give their weight in gold to redeem fhem. 

\Jl Purchafer, And their country, twice their 
weight, rathar than have them return. 

j4uB. Now is the time . to make your fortunes. 
Who bids ? . 

Zanga, [To Gorton.^ Thefe, I fuppofe, are your 
champions, that took flielter in the hold, with their 
icafaring brethren, the rats, when you fought them? 

Gorton, The fame. 

Au^. One I two! three! Juft going for — nothing, 

j/l Purchafer. Precifely what they are valued at, 
at home. You know, captains, thefe men of the femi- 
nine gender, don't pafs very current with us. You 
would do well to exchange them for ballaft or 
frefh water. I will give you one hundred fequins a 
piece for them. 

Gort,n, Sirike them off! It is cheaper buying men 
than raifing them at this rate. One, two, three, four, 
five of them. Clear the hatchway ! 

[^Exeunt \Ji Purchafer and pr if oners. 
Officer bringing forward three others, 

AiiEi, Here are three ftout, able-bodied fellows for 
you •, well made for labour. Who bids ? 


Sharp, Dat a man my mafler. [^Pointing to Kidna/K 

2d Purchafer, Mere bladders filled with wine. Our 
labour and climate will blafl them like muflirooms. 

3^ Purchafer. Let me look at their hands ; they 
are the index of the flave. A good hard hand is worth 
more than a dozen bloated cheeks and barrel bodies* 
Let me fee how they are put together. 

\&hahwg them by the Jhoulders, 

Kidtiap, Standoff! bale ruffian. 

\Officer Jlrikes him. 

Sharp, Dat larn you ftrike poor ncgur. Me wifti 
he kilia you ! [^Jfide. 

Kidnap, Black imp ! be Clent. 

(Officer, This fellow is a rare piece, FIl aflure you. 
Rather mettlcfome at prefent. Dlfcipline him freely 
with a whip for feveral weeks, and he will be as patient 
as a Dutch horfe. 

Kidnap. Severe reverfe 1 Now, Africans, I learn fo 
pity you. ^ L^/^^f* 

3 J Purchafer. What does he fay ? 

Officer. 1 fancy he wiflies to be excufed from read- 
ing the new leaf we are turning over for him. His 
dreams have been very much inclined to tattle, fince 
he has been in prifon. If I may judge from them, he 
has been a wholefale dealer in flaves himfelf ; and is 
juft beginning the hard leflbn of repentance. 

Gorton. Is this the man who entertained you fo 
agreeably in his fleep } 1 (hould fuppofe he might af- 
ford a deal of amufement when awake. 

Officer, He was in a very companionable mood laft 
night. He muft have thought himfelf at home : poor 
man, I am almoft forry for his delufion. In his focial 
glee, he ordered fix dozen of port, gave Liberty and 
Independence for a toaft, fung an ode to Freedom ; 
and after fancying he had kicked over the tables, hro- i 
ken all the glaffes, and lay helplefs on the floor, gave 
orders, attended by a volley of oaths, to have fifty of 
his flaves whipped thirty ftripcs each, for finging a 
liberty- fong in echo to his own; and fix more to b** 


hung up by tike heels for petitioning him for a draught 
pf milk and water^ while he was revelling with his 
drunken companions. Then waked up^ and exclaimed, 
O happy America ! farewell forever I . Juftice ! thou 
haft overtaken me at laft. 

AuB. His dreams will be a cafli article. Who bid's ? 

3^ Purchafer. Two hundred fequins a picce^ for 
-the three. 

Hatnet. Officer, forward that man : I wi(h to fpcak 
with him. LQ^-^vr leads Kidnap tv Hamct, 

From whence are you ? {To Kidnap. 

Kidnap, From North America. 

HameU The boafted land of liberty ? 

Kidnaps None more fo. 

Hatnet. Then does Ihe realize thofe fcenes your 
fancy paints, and which your tongue defcribes, when 
Qjft* its guard ? 

Kidnap. Take fecond-handed dreams for evidence, 
and judge as you plcafe of me, or my country. • 

Hamet. Your arrogance is evidence againft you. 
StUnd there in filence. Bring here that African. [To 
the officer,'] [Officer leads forward Sharp. 

Was that man your mafter ? 

Sharp. Yes a mafler. {^Bowing. 

Hamet. Is he a kind maftcr ? Do you wilh to live 
with him ? 

Sharp. No maiTer planter ! he get drunk ! he whip 
me I he knock a me down ! he ftamp on a me ! he will 
kill a me dead I No ! no ! let a poor negur live wid a 
you, mailer planter ; live wid a mafTer officer ; wid a 
dat a man ; or any udder man, fore I go back America 
again ; fore I live wid a mafler Kidnap again. 

Hamet. Fearnot,honeft fellow: nobody flball hurt you. 

Sharp. Tank a you, mafler ! blefs a you, good mafll 
cr planter ! IBowing. 

Hamet. [To Officer."] Deliver this man to the higheft 
bidder. liCt mifery teach him, what he could never 
learn in affluence, the leflbn of humanity. 

l^d Purchafer ttdus off Kidnap and the other tivo^ ctfid 
returns again.2 


Common faihrs brought fimuard. 

Au^. Here arc robuft fellows for you; reduced to 
difcipUne ; hardened by toil ; proof againft heat and 
coldj wind and weather. Now is your iaft opportuni* 
ty. Who bids? 

4/A Purchafer. Two hundred a piece for the whole. 

^th Purchafer, Two hundred and fifty. 

AuB. Two hundred and fiftyj and going. Their 
bare bones would be worth half that for fkeletons. 
But they arc well ftruog with nerves, and covered with 
hardy flefli: none of your mulhrooms, grow» up in 
the ihade. Look for yourfelves : they are almoft bul- 
let proof. 

Zanga. Quite, you might have faid, or we fhould 
have made riddling fieves of them. 

Oran* Three hundred a piece. 

Au^. Three hundred, and going. One ! two ! 
three I [Strikes, 

Zangd. \ToOran.'\ I am forry we we're obliged to 
cut fo many of them in pieces, before we could per- 
fuade them to ftrike. The whole crew would furnifli 
a fine plantation v and you might live in the ftyle of a 
Weft India planter. 

Offiter, Follow your maftef . \Oran going ; Jlaves 
following, Orari i fervants follom) the Jlave^s with whips^ 

Teague, \,Refiifmg to follow.'] Ship-mates, you may 
do as you pleafc. 1 fliould be glad of your dear com- 
pany ; but, by my ihoul, I will ente? no man's fhip by 
iea, or by land, till I know the conditions, and receive 
a little advance pay. • . 

Oran. Come on, my lad, or my fervants (hall fee 
io your advance pay. [Servant Jir ikes him with a whip^ 

Teague. [Burfling his pinions ^ and feizing Oralis Jer^ 
vant."] If this is your prompt pay, by faint Patrick ! 
you fliall have change in your own coin, my honey ! 
D'ye fee ! 1 could tear your rigging before and aft like 
a hurricane. Shaking him. Officer aitemptt tojiriie him 
with his /word ; other fervants with their whips. 
K 2 


Hamet, Forbear ! his honed indignation is the effii* 
fion of humanity. Let him fpeak for himfelf. There 
is fomething in this ingenuous tar, that moves me to 
do hioi a kindnefs. \_AJide, 

Teague. I think, an't pleafe your honor, a poor 
failof has a hard time enough on't to encounter wind 
and weather, hunger and thirft, and all the other 
dangers of the main fea ; and when rain and ftorois 
have frowned on him for feveral months, he ought to 
find a little funihine in every man's face % and not be 
bought and fold like dumb beafb in the market. I 
believe in my fhoul, if one were to get rich in a Chrif- 
tian country by fuch a vile trade, the judgments of 
heaven would keep him poor as long as he lived. Ah, 
and if men were to be made flaves and mafters, why 
was not one man bocn with a whip in his hand and 
gold fpoon in his mouth \ and another with a chain 
en his arm, or a fetter to his heel *, aye, and without 
a tongue, or a pair of jaws, folong as one muft not be 
allowed to ufe them? And if I had known I were to 
live a dog's life in this hard-hearted country, as I am 
a Chriftitin, I would have fought ye till I died.. But 
look ye I all hnnds upon deck ; this muckle arm of 
mine is free ; and by the blood of my heart, it ihall 
be torn from my body, before I will be bound once 
more, it fball. 

Oran. I muft leave that unmanageable creature 
with you, 2angaj 1 h<|ve had too much to do with 
fuch fellows already. 

. •Hamet, Truft him with me. His are the inborn 
virtues 1 admire : virtues, that ought to make the tyrant 
blufh before him, and find him friends, wherever there 
are men. 

Teap^^ On my !honeft wordj I am your honor's 
p;o6d iriend and fervant, fo long as I live, let the winds 
blo^ as they will. Yes, I will be any man's good 
friend and faithful fervanl^ that will fccurc- my liberty 
in the me^n timcj I will. 


AuEf. Here is this hoheft negro lad, who has been 
under the benevolent inftnidtion of a tafk-mafter, and 
converted to Chriftianity by le£lures applied to the na- 
ked back vrith a rope's end, or nine-tail whip. .He 
is bred to his bufineis ; you will find hhn an excellent 
purchafe -, and be can loofe nothing by exchanjg^e of 
mafters. Who bids ? . 

5/A Purchafer. Three hundred fequins. 

3// Purchafer. Four hundred. 

Officii . Follow that man ; he is your mafter. 


Sharp. Yes a niaffcr. [£o^wg to his ne^v majler. 

^th Purchafer. You give too much. You will raifc 
th^ price of (laves above their profit. 

3flf Purchafer i I have my reafons. He is trained 
to his bufinefs : I intend to put his old mafter under 
kis inftruftion, that he may occafionally have the ad- 
vantage of a whip-lefture from his former flave, whom 
he has treated fo kindly. 

^th Purchafer. Perfeftly right. Sir. Every dog 
muft have his day. \Exeunt 3^ Purchafer and Sharp. 

Zanga. {^Leading forward Francifco,'] This man has 
coft me dear ; he muft command a price accordingly. 

AuB. Here is the laft purchafe : who bids ? 

^tb Purchafer. What extraordinary things can this 
f^low do? 

Zanga, He can clip off men's heads and arms with 
an uncommon flight of hand. Had it not been for his 
dexterity at this art, and his loud acclamations to his 
crew, I fhould not have been repulfed three times from 
their deck, with the lofs of half my men. 

^th Purchafer. This is your misfortu* e 5 not ours^ 
Men in your way muft run the rifk of loftng an arm 
and even a head once in a while. Courage is a very 
good recommendation for a failor, or foldier ; but for 
a flave, I would give as much for one of your faint- 
hearted cowards, that you find hid in the hold in time 
of action, as for half a dozen^ who will meet you virith 
a piftol at your head. 


jtuB. What, does nobody bid ? 

Zanga. Thcfe are the marks of gratitude and hoa* 
or fhown to us, who expofe our lives to procure the 
means of eafe and Ijixurjr for our countrymen. My 
men, whofe wounds are witnefles again ft him, would 
give a generous price to fatisfy their vengeance. 

Francifco. Detefted ruffian ! blaft not the names of 
gratitude and honor with your breath. Has not my 
hfe already been enough expofed ? Then let thofc 
men, who wear the marks my courage gave, return me 
wound for wound. 'Pis not enough that you poflcfs 
my father^s fortune j the effefts of an indufirlous life, 
defigned to purchafe from your barbarous land, two 
darling fons ; more than his life to him ; and dearer 
than my own to me. Their mifery S not fufBcient. 
Myfelf, the only ftay of his declining years, muft be 
forever exiled from his fight. But I can bear the worft 
that malice can invent, or tyranny inflift. If you have 
pity, fpare it for my father ; for my brothers : they 
have flain none of your friends ; none of your nation. 
I can endure my own misfortunes : theirs are infup- 

Hamet. Magnanimous and dutiful fon ! your vir- 
tues fhall be rewarded ; and your father's forrow Ihall 
be turned to joy. You fay you have two brothers, 
whom you came to ranfoni. What are their names ? 
Perhaps they now are' free. ' 

Francifco, Ozro and Amandar. 

HameU Your bufinefs is accomplifhed. They have 
their liberty. Each minute I expeft them here. 

Francifco. O kind reverfe ! Francifco, thou (halt be 

Hamet, Francifco ! did he fay ? Good heavens ! 
can it be he ! [JJide.^ Art thou Francifco ? 

Francifco. That is my father's name. I am Fran- 
cifco the younger. 

HameU ' Thou art ! O my delivering angel ! Doft 
^^iou know thy Hamct ? 


Franctfco. It cannot be ! Sure I'm entranced. 

\Looiing eameftly at Hajnet. 

Harnett Come to mjr arms } I am thy friend, ^hy 
Hamet. Hamet rtfes. Francifco meets him pinioned. 

Francifco. Thou art the fame ! the beft of men. 

Enter OzRO and Amandar at a dtfiancey attended by 

guards. They advance Jlcnvly^ locking at each other and 

at Hamet in fufpenfe. 

Hamet. [ TJnloofmg Francifafs pinions.'] Off, {Iiame- 
ful bands ! Thefe ill become thee ! Thy hands are 
worthy of a fc^ptrc. Twice thou haft freed me from 
the chains of bondage. Thus I, in part, difcharge the 
debt. [Ozro and Amandar difcover Francifco and run to 
embrace him,] 

Ozro. O Francifco ! 

Amandar. My brother f [They embrace each other. 

Francifco. Welcome to my arms again ! Bounte- 
ous Heaven ! thy fmiles have pierced the cloud, and 
changed the night to day. Next ta Heaven, Hamet 
deferves our thanks. 

Ozro and Amandar. As firft on earth he has them. 

Hamet. I am the debtor. Heaven has given me a 
grateful heart : but it is to you, Francifco, I owe my 
fortune and my honor, and have ir in my power to 
fliow my gratitude. Had it not been for you, I might 
till now have been a flave in Venice. 

Teague. On my life, I would live and die here all 
my days, if all the people were like this fame good 
Hamet. [^Jde. 

Zanga. They fail fo pleafantly, I muft fall in with 
them after all. (AJide,) [Takes a chefly containing the 
money and jewels of Francifco^ and carries it to him.] 
Good Sir, I have been brought up to the trade of fight- 
ing; this, you know. Sir, is not an employment to foften 
one's heart. I have generally been obliged to refift 
the current of compaffion ; but it fets fo ftrong upon 
me noWfl will even follow its motion, as you have been 
plcafed to lead the way. Here is this man's money 5 J 


give up my fhare both in that and him too ; and wiik 
him and his good friends a plep.fant gale upon whatever 
^ourfc they may fteer through hfc. 

Hamet. This deed becomes thee, Zanga, and fhall 
hereafter be rewarded. 

Francifco. Zanga, thou haft my thanks. Let mc 
anticipate the joyous hour when our aged father fliall 
hear the tranfa£tians of this day ; and exprefs in his 
name the efFnfions of his grateful heart, when he fhall 
receive his fons from you as the author of their fecond 
exiftence; their delivery from the heavy chains of 
bondage. [Ti Hamet* 

Hamet, By untoward fortune, my father and my- 
felf were flaves in Venice. By your interceilion I was 
emancipated. I cheerfully procured the freedom of 
a declining parent at the expenfe of my own. The 
thought of relieving him from a burden, which his 
tottering age was unable to fupport, fweetened my 
toil, and made that fcrvitudc a pleafure, which other- 
wife had been intolerable. But the gcnerofity of your 
family exceeded what I dared to hope. You gratui- 
toufly reftored me to liberty a fecond time. This was 
ihe morning of my profperity, the birth-day of my 
happinefs. It is by your means, I have it in my power 
thus to acknowledge and difcharge a facred debt, the 
debt of gratitude. 

Ozro. This day more than compenfates for our paft 

Amondar, Henceforth we will celebrate its anniver^ 
fary in grateful remembrance of our benefaftor. 

Hamit, Generous brothers, enjoy your fortune, and 
let your father participate your happinefs, A fhip fhall 
be prepared to convey you to yo>ur native land, and 
reflore you to your friends. Let it be remembered 
there is no luxury fo exquifite as the exercife of hu- 
manity, and no poft fo honorable as his, who defends 
- THE RIGHTS OF MAN. lExeuut omm. 


Conclusion of a celebrated Speech of 
Mr. Pitt, in 1770, in Support of a Motion 
made in Parliament, to re<^est the King to 


My Lords, 

I HAVE ta)s:en a wide circuit, and trefpafled, I feafj 
too long upon your patience. Yet I cannot con* 
elude without endeavoring to bring home jour thoughts 
to an ohjtO: more immediately interefUng to us, than 
any I have yet considered : I mean the internal condi- 
tion of this country. We may look abroad for wealth, 
or triumphs, or luxury ; but England, my lords, is the 
main ftay, the laft refort of the whole empire. To 
this point, every fcheme of policy, whether foreign or 
domeftic, fhould ultimately refer. 

Have any meafures been taken to fatisfy, unite 
the people ? Are the grievances .they have fo long 
complained of removed? or do they ftand ncft only 
unredreffed, but aggravated ? Is the right of free elec- 
tion reftored to the eleftive body ? My lords, I my- 
felf am one of the people. I efteem that fecurity 
and independence, which is the original birthright of 
an Englifliman, far beyond the privileges, however 
fplendnl, which are annexed to the peerage. I myfelf 
am by birth an Englifh eleftor, and join with the 
freeholders of England as in a common caufe, Believe 
me, my lords, we miftake our real intereft as much as 
our duty, when we ftparate ourfelves from the maft of. 
the people. 

Can it be expefted that Englifhmen will unite hearti- 
. ly in defence of a government, by which they feel them- 
selves infultcd and opprefled ^ Reftore them to their 


rights ; that is the true way to make them unanimous. 
It is not a ceremonious recommendation from the 
throne^ that can bring back peace and harmony to a dif- 
contented people. That infipid annual opiate has been 
adminiftered to long, that it has loft its eSkd. Some- 
thing fubftantial, fomething effectual muft be done. 

The public crecUt of the nation ftands next in degree 
to the rights of the conftitution ; it calls loudly for the 
interpoiition of Parliament. There is a fet of men, 
my lords, in the city of London, who are known to 
live in riot and luxury, upon the plunder of the ignq- 
rant, the innocent, the helplefs \ upon that part of the 
community, which ftands moft in need of, and beft de- 
ferves the care and protedtion of the legiflature. To 
me, my lords, whether they be miferable jdbbers 
of Exchange Alley, or the lofty Afiatic plunderers of 
Leadenhall-ftreet, they ar^ all equally deteftable. I 
care but little whether a man walks on foot, or is 
^Irawn by eight or fix horfes. If his luxury be fup- 
ported by the plunder of his country, I defpife and 
deteft him. 

My lords, while I had the honor of lerving his Ma- 
jeily, I never ventured to look at the treafury but at a 
diftance ; it is a bufinefs I am unfit for, and to which 
I never could have fubmitted. The little I know of 
it has not fervcd to raife my opinion of what is vul- 
garly called the monied intereji ; I mean that blood- 
fucker, that muck-worm, which calls itfelf the friend 
of government ; that pretends to ferve this or that ad- 
miniftration, and may be purchafed, on the fame terms, 
by an;^ adminiflration ; that advances money to gov- 
ernment, and takes fpecial care of iM own emoluments. 

I hope, my lords, that nothing I have faid will be 
underftood to extend to the honeft, induftrious tradef- 
man, who holds the middle rank, and has given re- 
peated proofs, that he prefers law and liberty to gold. 
I love that clafs of men. Much lefs would I be thought 
*o reflect upon the fair merchant, whoie liberal com- 


merce is the prime fource of national wealth. I eftcem 
his occupation, and rcfpeft his chara£ler. 

My lords, if the general reprefentation which I have 
had the honor to lay before you, of the Situation of 
public affairs, has in any meafure engaged your atten- 
tion, your, lordfliips, •! ' am fure, will agree with me, 
that the feafon calls for more than common prudence 
and vigour in the direftion of your councils* The dif- 
ficulty of the crifis demands a wife, a firm, and a popu- 
lar adminiftration. The di (honourable traffic of places 
has engaged us too long. Upon this fubjeft, my lords, 
I fpeak without intereft or enmity. I have xto perfonal 
objection to any of the king's fervants. I fhall never 
be miniiler 5 certainly, not without full power to cut 
away all the rotten branches of government. Yet, 
unconcerned as I truly am for myfelf, I cannot avoid 
feeing fbme capital errors in the diftribution pf the 
■ royal favour. 

I know I fliall be accufed of attempting to revive 
dif^inftions. My lords, if it were poffible, I would 
abolifla all diftinftions. I would not wifh the favours 
of the crown to flow invariably in one channel. But 
there are fome dift-indtions which are inherent in the 
nature of things. There is a diftinftion between right 
and wrong 5^ between whig and tory. 

When 1 fpeak of an adminiftration, fuch as the nc- 
ceffity of the feafon calls for, my views are large and 
compreheniive. It mud be popular, that it may begin 
with reputation. It muft be iirong within itself, that 
it may proceed with vigour and declfion. An admin- 
iftration, formed upon an cxclufive jTyftem of family 
connexions, or private friendfhips, cannot, I am con- 
vinced, be long fupported in this country. 

I fhall trouble your lordftiips with but a few words 
more. His majefty tells us in his fpeech, that he will 
call upon us for our aidvice, if it (hould be neceffary in 
. the farther progrefs of this affair. It is not eafy to fay 
whether or not the miniftry aye ferious in this decla- 
ration 5 nor what is meant by the progrefs of an affair* 


"^hkh refts upon one fixed point. Hitherto we liave 
not been called upon. But though we are not con- 
fultedy it is our right and duty, as th^ king's great he- 
reditary council, to cffer him our advice. The papers, 
mentioned in the noble Duke'a motion, will enable us 
to form a juft and accurate opinion of the conduct c^ 
His Majefty's ftrvants, though not of the actual ftate of 
their honorable negociations. 

■ The miniftry, too, fecm to want advice upon fome 
|)oints, in which their own fafety is immediately con- 
cerned. They are noVr balancing between a war, 
which they ought to have forefcen ; but for which 
they have made no proviiion, and ail ignominious com- 
promife. Let me warn them of their danger* If they 
are forced into a war, they ftand it at the hazard of 
their heads. If, by an ignominious com promife, they, 
fliould ftain the honor of the crown, or facrifice the 
rights of the people, let them look to their confciences, 
and confider whether they will be abb to walk the 
ftreets in fafety* 

SocRATJis' Defence BEFORE his Accusers 
ANp Jupges. 

I AM accufed of corrupting the youth, and of infiill- 
ing dangerous principles into them, as well in re- 
gard to the worfhip of the gods, as the rulers of gov- 
ernment. Yx)u know, Athenians, i never made it my 
profejjion to teach; joor can envy, however violent 
againfl me, reproach me with having ever fold my in- 
ilruftions. I have an undeniable evidence for me in 
this refpeft, which is my poverty. Always equally 
ready to comisHinkate my tbdughts either to the rich 
or poor, and to give d^cm entire leifure to queflicn or 
iinfwer me, I lend myielf -to every one who is defirous 
of becoming virtuous; and if acnongft thofe who hear . 
me, there are any who prove cither good or bad, nei- 
her the virtues of the olie, nor the vices of the other. 


to which I have not contributedi ait to be ascribed to 

My whole employment is to perfuade the young 
and old againft too much love for the body, for riches, 
and all other precarious things of whatfoever nature 
they be, and againfl toon little regard for the foul, wMch 
ought to be the objeft of their affedion. For I ince£> 
fantly urge to you, that virtue does no^ proceed from 
riches, but on the contrary, riches from virtue j and 
that all the other goods of human life, as well public 
as private have their fource in the fame principle. 

If to fpeak in this manner be to corrupt youth, I 
confefs, Athenians, that I am guilty, and deferve to be 
punifhed. If what I fay be not true, it is moft ea{y to 
convi<n: me of my falfehood. I fee here a great num- 
ber of my difciples : they have only to appear. But 
perhaps the referveand confideration for a mailer, who 
has inftrufted them, will prevent them from declaring 
againft me : at leaft their fathers, brothers, and uncles 
cannot, as good relations, and good citizens, difpenfe 
with their not ftanding forth to demand vengeance 
agaiijft the corrupter of their fons, brothers, and ne- 
phews. But thefe are the perfons who take upon them 
my defence, and interefl: therafelves in the fuccefs of 
my caufe. - - 

Pafs on me what fentence you pleafe, Athenians ; 
but I can neither repent nor change my conduft. I 
rouft not abandon or fufpend a fundttpn, which God 
jilmfelf has impofed on me, fince he has charged me 
with the care of inftrufling my fellow-citizens. If, 
after having fahhfully kept all the ports, wherein I 
was placed by our generals, the fear of death fliould at 
this time make me abandon that in which the Divine 
Providence has placed me, by commanding me to pafs 
my life in the ftudy of philofophy, for the inftruftion 
of myfelf and others ; this would be a moft criminal 
defertion indeed, and make me highly worthy of being 
cited before this tribunal, as an impious man wlio does 
pot believe the gods. 


Should you refolve to acquit me for the future, I 
iliould not hefitate to make anfwer, Athenians, I honor 
and love you j but I fhall choofe rather to obey God 
than you ; and to my lateft breath fhall never renounce 
my philofophy, nor ceafe to exhort and reprove you 
according to my cuftom. I am reproached with abjeft 
fear and meannefs of fpirit, for being fo bufy in im- 
parting my advice to every one in private, and for 
having always avoided to be prefent in your affemblics, 
to give my counfels to my country. I think I have 
fufRciently proved my courage and fortitude, both in 
the field, where I have borfte arms with you, and in 
the Senate, when I alone, upon more than one occa- 
fion, oppofed the violent and cruel orders of the thirty 
tyrants. What is it then that has preverited me from 
appearing in your affemblies ? It is that demon, that 
voice divine, which you have fo often heard me nicn- 
tion, and Melitus has taken fo much pains to ridicule, 

'!!iat fpirit has attached itfelf to me from my infan- 
cy : it IS a voice, which I never hear, but when it would 
prevent me from perfiiling^in fomething I have refolv- 
ed 'y for it never exhorts me to undertake any thing. It 
is the fame being that has always oppofed me, when I 
would have intermeddled in the aflfairs of the republic; 
and that with the greateft reafon ; for Ifliould have 
been amongft the dead long ago, had I been concerned 
in the meafures of the ftate, without efFefting any thing 
to the advantage of myfelf, or our country. 

Do not take it ill, I befeech you, if I fpeak my 
thoughts without difguife, and with truth and freedom. 
Every man who would generoufly oppofe a whole peo- 
ple, either amongft us or elfewhere, and wiio inflexibly 
applies himfelf to prevent the violation of the law?, and 
the praftice of iniquity in a government, will never do 
fo long with impunity. It is abfolutely neceflary for 
him, who would contend for juftice, if he has any 
thoughts of living, to remain in a private ftation, and 
never to have any fhare in public affairs. 


For the reft, Athenians, if, in the extreme danger I 
now am, I do not imitate the behaviour of thofe, who, 
upon lefs emergencies, have implored and fuppHcated 
their judges with tears, and have brought forth their 
children, relations, and friends, it is not through pride 
or obftinacy, or any contempt for you 5 but fblely for 
your honor, and for that of the whole city. At my 
age, and with the reputation, true or falfe, which I 
have, would it be con (Men t for me, after all the leflbns 
I have given upon the contempt of death, to be afraid 
of it myfelf, and to belie in my laft adtion all the prin- 
ciples and femiments of my paft life ? 

But without fpeaking of my fame, which I fliould 
extremely injure by fuch a conduft, I do not think it 
allowable to entreat a judge, nor to be abfolved by fup- 
plications : he ought to be perfuaded and convinced. 
The judge does not fit upon the bench to Ihow favour 
by violating the laws ; but to do juftice in conforming 
to them. He does not fwear to difcharge with impu- 
nity whom he pleafes* but to do juflice where it is 
■due. . We ought not therefore to accuflom you to 
perjury, nor you to fuffcr yourfelves to be accuftomed 
to it ; for in fo doing, both the one and the other of 
us equally injure juftice axid religion, and both are 

Do not therefore expeft from me, Athenians, that 
I fliould have recourfe to means \vhich I believe nei- 
ther honeft nor lawful ; efpeclally upon this occafion, 
wherein I am accufed of impiety by Melitus. For, 
if I Ihoujd influence you by my prayers, and thereby 
induce you to violate your oaths, it would be unde- 
niably evident, that I teach you not to believe in the 
gods; and even in defending and juflifying myfelf, 
Ihould furnifli my adverlaries with arms againft me, 
and prove that I believe no divinity. But I am very 
far from fuch wiqked thoughts. I am more convinced 
of the exiftence of God than my accufers ; and fo con- 
vinced, that I abandon myfelf to God and you, that 
you may judge of me as you (hill think it b::ft. 
L 2 


Dialogue on Cowardice and Knavery. 

Hector, Jtn Officer eajbieredfcr Cewardrce, 

Hamburgh, A fraudulent Bankrupt, 

Simon, A PanvwBroker, 

Trusty, In Disguise^ acquainted tvitb all, 

f Sitting together ; some xvitb Segars.J 

SCENE, ji Tavern. 
Enter Landlord. 

Landkrd /^ ENTLEMEN, you all come difFerent 
\jr ways J and I s'pofe arc ftrangers; but 
may be, you'd like to cut and come again upon a roaft 
turkey with good trimmings. 

Trujbj./ With all my heart. I'd play knife and 
fork even with a cut-throat over fuch a fupper : and I 
dare fay, you'll find none of us cowards or baifkrupts 
in that bufinefs. 

Up Jicert Hector, Hamburgh, and Simon. 

All three, \To Trujly,'] Do you call me names, Sir ? 

Trujly, Gentlemen, I meant no perfonalities. 

HeElor, {Puts his hand to his /word.'] But you call- 
ed me a coward, you rafcal. 

Hamb. {Takes off his ccat.^ You called me a bank- 
rupt, you knave. ♦ 

Simon, {Doubles his Jift.'] You called me cut-throat, 
you villain. 

Trujly. I told you all, I meant no perfonalities ; 
but {To He8or.'\ pray what are you ? 

HeBor, AfoWier, to your forrow. Fear and tremble. 

Trtijiy, {To Hamburgh.'} Pray what are you ? 

Hamb, A merchant. 

Trtf/ly. {To Simon,} And what are you. 

Simon, A banker. 


-Trujly. Then if you are fuch as foldiers, merchants, 
and bankers ought to bey I could not mean you ; other- 
wife you may take the words, cut-throat, bankrupt, 
and coward, and divide 'em among you. And as to 
kfiav€, rafcal, and villain, I return them to the right 

HeBor. Gentlemen, (land by. Til fight for you all, 
[^Draws and turns to Trujly,!^ I challenge you to fight 

Land. Poh ! challenge him to eat with you ; the 
fupper's waiting. 

He&or. [5n? /*jW/(9rrf.] Don't interfere, Sir; here's 
ferious work 5 blood will be fpilt. 

Trujiy. Well, fpill your own then : I have no no* 
tion of having my veins pricked. 

Hector. Choofe your mode of fighting iaftantly, or 
fall beneath this fword, which has drank the blood of 

Trujiy. Well, if I muft fight, my mode will be to 
ufe that fword five minutes upon your body ; then you 
fhail ufe it upon me as long, and fo we will take turns. 

HeBor, You inflame my choler. 

Trujiy. Then unpin your collar. 

HeElor. I fliall burft with rage. 

Trufty. Then we (hall have one left at table. 

Hehor. \BrandiJbes his /word,'] Arc you prepared 
for your exit ? 

Trujiy. lam. lExit. 

He&or, Now he is gone to arm himfelf with pano-^ 
ply, to meet this valorous fword. Guard me, ye pow- 
ers ! who, in the day of battle, 'mid clafhing fwordu 
and all the thunder of my father Mars, have been mj 
fhield and buckler. Now I am ready for him : why 
does he not return ? 

Land, He's gone to fupper. This is an eating 
houfe, not a fighting houfe. Sheath jfour fword. 

HeBor. [Sheaths.'] There, fword, fmother thy 
rage till fomc dauntlefs adverfary (hall call thee out : 
then fcek his heart and make report of viftory. 

[^Bxeuut omHf 


Interval Jive minutes, 
l^nter TIrusty and Landlord. 

Land. I take that oificer-loolcing man to be Colonel 
Home, one of the bravcft men in the army. 

Trufty. Colonel Home and he are very different 
characters. That wretch was but an enfign, and was 
c^lhtered for cowardice. 

Land. Is that poffible .' Why he told me himfeif 
that he had alone furprifed a whole regiment and cut 
them in pieces 5 and that all the army ftood in awe of 

Trujly. Well you may depend on what I tell you ; 
and the one that fits. next to him is a bankrupt^ who 
has been guilty of every Ihameful praftice to defraud 
his creditors; and the other is a bafe pawn-broker, 
who has got all the property of this bankrupt in his 
hands ioc concealment. 

Land. You furprife me ! Why that bankrupt, as 
you call him, was juft now telling the other, how he 
was afraid the late ilorms at fea might affeCt his {hip- 
ping y and the other was offering to infure them. 
Enter Hector, Hamburgh, and Simon. 

HeBor. [To Xrujly.'] Since my wrath is a little 
abated, I am perfuad^ you meant no offence ; but 
look ye, Sir, if any man was feiioufly to difpute my 
courage, you fee my fword ! 

Trufy. I fee it. 

HeBor. And don't you fear it ? 

Trufty. No ; nor its owner. [HeBor offers to draiv.^ 
Forbear, or " I will tell a tale will make it blufh/' 

iHeBorfneaks <ff. 

Hamb. [To Tru/ly."] I am not difpofed. Sir, to be- 
lieve that you meant me by any exprefBon. you made, 
as to coward and cut-throat : they certainly don't be- 
long to me. And as to bankrupt, the four winds can 
give the lie to jjpch a charge. 

Trufty, They could give but ivindy teftimony in 
your favour. 


Hamb. Then I appeal to this worthy gentleman, 
{Speaking of Simon.'] and an honeft^r man lives not on 
earth, if I have not thoufands in his hands. 

Simon. [^Aftde to Hainh.'] You had better leave it 
to the four winds. 

Hamb. \^Loud and hajlily,'] Have I not monies of 
a great amount in your hands ? 

Simon. Did you not take an oath, a few days fince, 
that you had not, direftly nor indireftly, five pounds 
on earth ? 

Hamh. Yes. I had not on earth ; but it was. then 
in your coffers, and you know it. 

Simon. If your oath that you had no property can't 
be relied on, why fliould your word be taken, that you 
have ? 

Hamh. But I alk you, have you not my property 
in your hands ? 

Simon. Not a farthing. You arc a bankrupt for 
thoiifands, and the four winds may tell of that. 

Hamb. O knavery ! 

Simon. O perjury ! 

Trufty, You are perfeftly welcome to ufe the words 
I juft now toffed out to you ; and it appears to me, 
they are a very proper currency between you. 

Hamb. O that I had the money out of that wretch's 
hands, to give to my honeft creditors ! 

Simon. O that I had the chara£l:er, which I have 
lofi: by my connexion with you ! 

Trufly. I am ferry for the depravity of you both. 
It has led you to deceive honeft men, and to betray 
each other. You have now learned the value of repu- 
tation and peace of mind, by the lofs of them. Let 
' your future days be days -of atonement. Let them be 
devoted to honefty and fair dealing j and ever remem- 
ber that integrity is the only road to defirable wealth, 
and thiit the path of virtue is alone the path of peace. 


Mr. Sheridak's Speech against Mr. 

WE have this day been honored with the coun* 
fels of a complete gradation of lawyers. We 
have received the opinion of a Judge, of an Attorneys 
General, of an Ex- Attorney-Genera), and of a jprac- 
tifing Barrifter. I agree with the learned gentleman 
in his admiration of the abilities of my honorable 
friend, Mr. Fox. What he has faid of his quicknefs 
and of his profoundnefs, of his boldnefsand his candor, 
is literally juil and true, which the mental accompli(h- 
roent of my honorable friend is, on every occafion, cal- 
culated to extort even from his adverfaries. 

The learned gentleman has, however, in this infidi- 
ous eulogium, conneAed fuch qualities of mind with 
thofe he has praifed and venerated, a» to convert his 
encomiums into reproach, and' his tributes of praifc 
into cenfure and invcftive. The boldnefs he has de- 
fcribed is only craft, and his candor, hypocrify. Upon 
what grounds docs the learned gentleman conncft thofe 
aflemblages of great qualities and of cardinal defefts ? 
Upon what principles, either of jufticeor of equity, docs 
he exult with one hand, whilft he infidioufly reprobates 
and deftroys with the other ? 

If the wolf is to be feared, the learned gentleman 
may reft aflured, it will be the wolf in fheep's clothing, 
the ma£ked pretender to patriotifm. It is not from the 
fang of the lion, but ftom the tooth of the ferpent, 
that reptile which infidioufly fteals upon the vitals of 
the conftitution, and gnaws it to the heart, ere the mif- 
chief is fufpefted, that deftruftion is to be feared. 

With regard to the acquifition of a learned gentle- 
man,, Mr. Taylor, who has declared that he means to 
vote with us this day, I am forry to acknowledge, that 
from the declaration he has made at the beginning of 
his fpeech, I fee no great reafon to boaft of fuch an 
auxiliary. The learned gentleman, who has with pe. 


caliar modefty ftyled himfelf a chicken lawyer^ has de- 
clared, that, thinking us in the right with rcfpeft to 
the fubjeft of this day's difcuffion, he fhall vote with 
us ; but he has at the fame time thought it neccflary 
to a&rt| that he has never before voted difierently 
from the minifter and his friends', and perhaps he never 
fhall again vote with thofe whom he means to fupport 
this day. 

It is rather fingular to vote with us, profefiedly be- 
caufe he finds us to be in the right, and, in the very 
moment that he aifigns fo good a reafon for changing 
his fide, to declare^ that in all probability he never fhall 
vote with us again. I am forry to find tht chicken is 
. a* bird of ill omen, and that its augury is fo unpropi- 
tious to our future interefls. Perhaps it would have 
been as well, under thefe circumftances, that the chick- 
en had not left the bam-'door of the treafury ; but 
continued fide by fide with the old cock, to pick thole 
crumbs of comfort which would doubtlefs be dealt out 
in time, with a liberality proportioned to the fidelity 
of the feathered tribe. 

Part of Cicero's Oration against Catj- 


IT is now a long time, confcript fathers, that we 
have trod amidft the dangers and machinations of 
this confpiracy : but I know not ^how it comes to pafs, 
the full maturity of all thofe crimes, and of this long- 
ripening rage and infolence, has now broken out du- 
ring the period of my confulfhip. Should Catiline 
alone be removed from this poweriful band of traitors, 
it may abate, perhaps, our fears and anxieties for a 
while ; but th^ danger will ilill remain, and continue 
lurking in the veins and vitals of the republic. 

For, as men, opprefled with a fevere fit of illnefs, 
and labouring under the raging heat of a fever, are 
often at firft feemingly relieved by a draught of co''' 


water ; but afterwards find the difeafe return upon them 
with redoubled fury ; in like manner, this diflemper^ 
which has feized the commonwealth, cafed a little by 
the puni(hment of this traitor, will, from his furviving 
aflbciates, foon affume new force. Wherefore, con- 
fcript fathers, let the wicked retire 5 let them fepa- 
rate themfelves from the honeft \ let them rendezvous 
in one place. In fine, as I have often faid, let a wall 
be between them and us 5 let them ceafe to lay fnares 
for the conful in his own houfe j to befet the tribunal 
of the city praetor ; to Inveft the fenate-houfe with 
armed ruiEans, and to prepare fire-balls and torches for 
burning the city : in fhort, let every man's Sentiments 
with regard to the public be infcribed on his forehead. 

This I engage for, and promife, confcript fathers, 
that by the diligence of the confuls, the weight of your 
authority^ the courage and firmnefs of the Romr.n 
knights, and the unanimity of all the honeft, Catiline 
being driven from the city, you fhall behold all his 
treaions detected, expofed, crufhed, and puniflied. 

With thefe omens, Catiline, of all profperity to the 
republic, but of deftru6tion to thyfelf, and all thofe 
who have joined themfelves with thee in all kinds of 
parricide, go thy way then to this impious and abomi- 
nable war: whilft thou, Jupiter, wjiofe religion was 
eftablifhed with the foundation of this city, whom we 
truly call Stator, the ftay and prop of this empire, wilt 
drive this man and his accomplices from thy altars and 
temples, from the houfes and walls of the city, from 
the lives and fortunes of us ^11 ; and wilt deftroy with 
eternal punifhments, both living and dead, all thp 
haters of good men, the enemies of their country, the 
plunderers of Italy, now confederated in this detefta- 
ble league and partnerfliip of villainy. 


Description of the first American Con- 

COLUMBUS look'd; and ftiU around them fpread, 
From fouth to north, th' immeafurablc fliade j 
At laft the central fhadows burft away, 
And rifing regions open'd on the day. 
He faw, once more, bright Delaware's filver fiream. 
And Penn's throng'd city call a cheerful gleam i 
The dome of ftate, that met his eager eye, 
Now heav'd its arches in a loftier fky. 
The burfting gates unfold ; and lo, within, 
A folemn train, in confcious glory, ihine. 
The well-known forms his eye had trac'd before, 
In different realms along th' extended fliore ; 
Here, grac'd with nobler fame, and rob'd in ftatCj 
They Jook'd and mov'd magnificently great. 
High on the foremoft feat, in living light, 
Majeilic Randolph caught the heroes fight : 
Fair on* his head, the civic crown was plac'd. 
And the firft dignity his fceptre grac*d. 
He opes the caufe, and points in profpeft far, 
Through all the toils that wait th' impending war. 
But, haplrfs fage, thy reign muft foon be o'er. 
To lend thy luftre, and to fhine no more. 
So the bright morning-ftar, from fhades of ev'n, 
Leads up the dawn, and lights the front of heav'n, 
Points to the waking world the fiin's broad way. 
Then veils his own, and fhines above the day. 
And fee great Waftiington behind thee rife, 
Thy following fun, to gild our morning Ikies ; 
O'er Ihadowy climes to pour the enliv'ning flame. 
The ^harms of freedom and the fire of fame. 
Th' afcen^ing chief adorn'd his fplendid feat. 
Like Randolph, enfign'd with a crown of ftate. 
Where the green patriot bay beheld, with pride, 
The hero's laurel Springing by its fide ; 
His fword, hung ufelefs, on his graceful thigh. 


On Britain ftill he caft a filial eye ; 
But fpvcreign fortitude his vifege bore. 
To meet their legions on th' invaded fhore. 

Sage Franklin next arofe, in awful mien. 
And fmil'd, unruflSied^ o*er th' approaching (cenei 
High, on his locks of age^ a wreath was hrac'd. 
Palm of all arts, that e'er a mortal grac'd^ 
Beneath him Hes the fceptre kings have born^, 
And crowns and laurels from their temples torn* 
Naihy Riitledge, Jefierfon, in council great. 
And Jay and Laurens op'd the rolls of ifistte. 
The Livingftons, fair Freedom's gen'rous band. 
The Lees, the Houfions, fathers of 'the land^ 
0*er climes and kingdoms t«irn'4 i^eir ardent eyes, 
Bade all th' opprefs'd to fpecdy nM^n^ance rife ; 
All pow'rs of flate, in their ^t^nded j>lan, 
Rife from confent to fhield^theoights of man. 
Bold Wolcott urgM the .all4mpQctant caufe; 
With fteady hand the folemn icenc he draws $ 
Undaunted firmnefs wjth his wifdom join'd, 
Nor kings nor worlds could warp his ftedfaft mind. 

Nowj graceful ri^g j^om his purple throne, 
In radiant robes, unihoFtal Hofmer flione ; 
Myrtles and bays .his jearned temples bound, 
Theftatefinan'svW^eatlh, tbt poet's garhnd crbwn'd : 
Morals and lan^.-^pand his liberal foul. 
Beam from his^eye^,and in his accents roll. 
But lo I .aQfUnieen'hsmd the curtain drew. 
And fnatch^d the patriot from the hero's view ; 
Wrapp'd in.i?he ^fhroud of deaih, he fees defcend 
The guide. of nations and :the mufe's friend. 
tjColumbus dropp'd a tear. The angel's eye 
Xrac'd the freed fpirit mounting through the iky. 

Adams, cnrag'd, a broken charter bore, 
And lawlefs afts of minifterial pow'r ; 
Some ii^ur'd right in each loofe leaf appears, 
A king in terrors and a land in tears ; 
Trom all the guileful plots the veil he drew, 
With eye rjstqrtiu Ioek'4 creation through ;. 


<)p'd the wide range of nature's boundiefi plan» 
Trac'd all the fteps of liberty and man ^ 
Crowds rofe to vengeance while his accents rungi 
And independence thundered from his tongne.. 

Speech of Buonaparte, Commander in 
Chief of the French Army in Italy, to his 
Brethren in Arms. 

. Soldiers, 

YOU are precipitated like a torrent from the 
heights of the Appenines ; you have overthrown 
and difperfed all that dared to oppofe your march. 
Piedmont, refcued from Au()rian tyranny, is left to its 
natural fcntiments of regard and friendfhip to the 
French. Milan is yours 5 and the republican flandard 
is difplayed throughout all Lombardy. The dukes of 
Parma and Modena are indebted for their political ex- 
iftcnce only to your generofity. 

The army, which fo proudly mienaced you, has had 
no other barrier than its difTolution to oppo(e your in- 
vincible courage. The Po, the Teflcn, the Adda, could 
not retard you a fingle day. The vaunted bulwarks 
of Italy were infufficient. You fwept them with the 
fame rapidity that you did the Appenines. Thofe fuc- 
cefles have carried joy into the bofom of your country. 
Your reprefentatives decreed a feftival dedicated to your 
vi(ftories, and to be celebrated throughout all the con> 
munes of the republic. Now your fathers, your moth* 
ers, your wives, and your fiflers, will rejoice in your 
fuccefs, and take pride in their relation to you. 

Yes, foldiers, you have done much ; but more ftHl 
remains for you to do. Shall it be faid of us, that we 
know how to conquer, but not to profit by our vifto- 
ries ? Shall pofterity reproach us with having found a 
Capua in Lombardy ? But already I fee you fly to 
arms. You are fatigued with an inaftive rcpofe. You 
kment the days that are loft to your glory ? .Well, 


tlien, let us proceed ; we have other forced inarches to 
make ; other enemies to fubdue ; more laurels to src- 
f uire, and more injuries to avenge. 

Let thofe who have unfheathed the daggers of civil 
war in France ; who have bafely affaffinated our mini- 
fters ; who have burnt our (hips at Toulon ; let theiisi 
tremble 1 the knell of vengeance has already tolled ! 

But to quiet the apprehcniions of the people, we 
declare ourfelves the friends of all, and particularly otf 
thbfe who are the defcendants of Brutus, of Scipio ; 
and thofe other great men whom we have taken for 
our models. 

To re-eftablifh the capital; to replace the ftatues 
of thofe heroes who have rendered it immortal; to 
roufe the Roman people entranced in fo many ages of 
flavery ; this Ihall be the fruit of your vidlories. It 
will be an epoch for the admiration of poftcrity ; you 
will enjoy the immortal glory of changing the afpoft 
of affairs in the fineft part of Europe, rhe free people 
of France, not regardlefs of moderation, fliall accord to 
Europe a glorious peace 5 but it will indemnify itfelf 
for the facrificcs of every kind which it has been ma- 
king for fix years paft. You will again be reftored to 
Your fire-fides and homes ; and your fellow-citizens, 
pointing you out, fliall fay, " There goes one who be^ 
longed to the army of Italy ! 

Refj&ections over the Grave of a Young 

HERE lies the grief of a fond mother, and the blaft- 
ed expeftation of an indulgent father. The 
youth grew up, like a well-watered plant; he fhot 
deep, rofe high, and bade fair for manhood. But juft 
as the cedar began to tower, and promifed ere long, to 
be the pride of the wood, and prince among the neigh- 
hiDuring trees, behold I the axe is laid unt9 the root i 


the fatal blow ftnick ; and all Its branching honors 
tumbled to the dui>. And did he fall alone ? No : 
the hopes of his father that begat him, and the pleas- 
ing profpefts of her that bare him, fell, and were 
cruihed together with him. 

Doubtlefs it would have pierced one's heart, to have 
beheld the tender parents following the breathlefs 
youth to his long home. Perhaps, drowned in tears, 
and all overwhelmed with forrows, they ftood, like 
weeping ftatues, on this very fpot. Methmks I fee 
the deeply- diftrefled mourners attending the fad folem- 
nity. How they wring their hands^ and pour forth 
floods from their eyes ! Is it fancy ? or do I really 
hear the pafEonate mother, in an agony pf afilidion, 
taking her final leave of the darling of her foul? 
Dumb flie remained, while the awful obfequies Were 
performing ; dumb with grief, and leaning upon the 
partner of her woes. But now the inward anguifh 
flruggles for vent ; it grows too big to be reprefled. 
She advances to the brink of the grave. All her fpul 
is in her eyes. She fa (lens one more look upon the 
dear doleful objeft, before the pit fhuts its mouth upon 
him. And as Ihe looks, fhe cries, in broken accents, 
interrupted by many a rifing fob, flic cries, Farewell, my 
fon ! my fon ! my only beloved ! would to God I had 
died for thee ! Farewell, my child ! and farewell all 
earthly happinefs ! I fliall never more fee good in the 
land of the living. Attempt not to comfort me. 1 will 
go mourning all my days, till my gray hairs come 
down with forrow to the grave. 

Scene from the Drama of " Moses in thB 

JocHEBED, Miriam. 

Jochebed. \\^^^ did'lSIv?^''^^'* ""''^^^^"^ ' ^^ 
In anger hear me, when I aik'd a fon ? 
M 1 


Yc dames of Egypt ! happy ! happy mothers ! 
No tyrant robs you of your fondeft hopes ;* 
You arc not doom'd to fee the babes you bore, 
The babes you nurture, bleed before your eyes ! 
You tafte the tranfports of maternal love. 
And never know its anguifh ! Happy mothers ! 
How different is the lot of thy fad daughters, 
P wretched Ifracl ! Was it then for this ? 
Was it for this the righteous arm of God 
Refcn'd his chofen people from the jaws 
Of cruel want, by pious Jofeph's care ? 
Jofeph th' e1e£led inftrument of Heav'n, 
Decreed to fave illuftrious Abram's race, 
What time the famine ragM in Canaan's land. 
Ifrael, who then was fpar'd, muft pcriih now 1 
O thou myfterious Pow'r ! who haft involv'd 
Thy wife decrees in darknefs, to perplex 
The pride of human wifdom, to confound 
The daring fcrutiny, and prove the faith 
Of thy prcfuming creatures ! clear this doubt ; 
Teach me to trace this ma2e of Providence ; 
Why fave the fathers, if the fons muft perifh ? 

Miriam. Ah roe, my mother ! whence thefc floods 
of grief? 

jfoch. My fon ! my fon ! I cannot fpeak the reft. 
Ye who have fons can only know my fondnefs ! 
Ye who have loft them, or who fear to lofe. 
Can only know my pangs ! None elfe can guefs them. 
A mother's forrows cannot be conceiv'd, 
But by a mother. Wherefore am I one ? 

Mir. With many pray'rs thou didft requcft this fon, 
And Heav'n has granted him. 

Joch. O fad efbte 

Ofngman wretchcdncfs ! So weak is n^^^ri, 
So ignorant and bilnd, that did not God 
Sometimes withhold in mercy what we afk. 
We ihould be ruin'd at our own requeft. 
Too well thou know'ft, my child, the ftem decr^ 
Of Egypt's cruel king, hard-hearted Pharaoh ; 


<< That ev'ry male, of Hebrew mother born, 
« Muft die." Oh ! do I live to tell it thee ? 
Muft die a bloody death ! My child, my fon, - 
My youngeft born, my darling muft be flain ! 

Mir. The helplefs innocent !• and muft he die ? 

JocL No : if a mother's tears, a mother's pray'rs, 
A mother's fond precautions can prevail. 
He (hall not die. I have a thought, my Miriam ! 
A;id fure the Grod of mercies, who infpir'd. 
Will blefs the fecret purpofe of my foul. 
To fave his precious life. 

Mtr^ Hop'ft thou that Pharaoh — 

JocL I have no hope in Pharaoh j much in God } 
Much in the Rock of Ages. 

Mir. Think, O think. 

What perils thou already haft incurr'd j 
And fhun the greater which may yet remain, [ferv'd 
Three months, three dang'rous months thou haft pre- 
Thy infant's life, and in thy houfe concealed him ! 
Should Pharaoh know f . 

JocL Ok ! let the tyrant know, 
And feel what he inflifts ! Yes, hear me, Heav'n ! 
Send the right aiming thunderbolts — 'But huQi, 
My impious murmurs ! Is it not thy will. 
Thou infinite in mercy ? Thou permitt'ft 
This feeming evil for fome latent good. 
Yes, I will laud thy grace, and blefs thy goodnefs 
For what I have, and not arraign thy wifclom 
V For what I fear to lofe. O, I will blefs thee. 
That Aaron will be fpar'd ! that my firft bom 
Lives fafe and undifturb'd ! that he was given me 
Before this impious perfecution rag'd ! 

Mir. And yet who knows, but the fell tyrant's rage 
May reach his precious life ? 

Joch. I fear for him. 

For thee, for all. A doting parent lives 
In many lives; through many a nerve (he feels-i 
From child to child the quick affe^^ions fpread, 
Forever wandVing, y«t forever fiat'd. 


Nor does divifion weaken, nor the force 
Of conftant operation e'er exhauft 
Parental lov^« All other paflions change. 
With changing circurnftances ; rife or fall, 
Dependent on their objeft j claim returns ; 
Live on reciprocation, and expire 
Unfed by hope. A mother's fondnefs reigns 
Without a rival, and without an end. 

Min But fay what Heav'n infpires, to fave thy fon ? 

Joch, Since the dear fatal morn which gave him birth, 
I have revolv'd in my diftraftcd mind 
Each mean to fave his life : and many a thought, 
Which fondnefs prompted, prudence has oppos'dj 
As perilous and rafh. With thefe poor hands 
Fve fram'd a little ark of flendcr reeds j 
With pitch and flime I have fecur'd the fides". 
In this frail cradle I intend to lay 
My little helplcfs infant, and expofe him 
Upon the banks of Nile. 

Mir, *Tis full of danger. 

Joch. 'Tis danger to expofe, and death to keep him. 

Mir. Yet, Oh rcfleft ! Should the fierce crocodile, 
The native and the tyrant of the Nile, 
Seize the defencelefs infant ! 

Joch. Ohy forbear ! 

Spare my fond heart. Yet not the crocodile, 
Nor all the deadly monfiers of the deep. 
To me are half fo terrible as Pharaoh, 
That heathen king, that royal murderer ! 

Mir. Should he efcape, which yet I dare not hopCe, 
Each fca-bom monfter j yet the winds and waves 
He cannot Tcape. 

Jocb. Know, God is ev'ry where ; 

Not to one narrow, partial fpot confined ; 
No, not to chofen IfraeL He extends 
Through all thevaft infinitude of fpace« 
At his command the furious tempers rife,. 
The blafting of the breath of his difpleafure : 
*'e tells the world of waters when to roar^ 


And at his biddings wlntis and fcas are calm. 
In Hicn, not in an arm of flefh I trufi ; 
In Him^ whofe promife never yet, has fail'd, 
I place my confidence. 

Mir. What muft I do ? 

Command thy daughter, for thy words have wak*d 
An holy boldnefs in my youthful breaft. 

JocL Go then, my , Miriam ; -go, and take the infant. 
Buried in harmlefs {lumbers, there he lies : 
Let me hot fee him. Spare my heart that pang. 
Yet Aire, one little look may be indulg'd •, 
One kifs ; perhaps the laft. No more, my foul ! 
That fondnefs would be fatal. I fhould'keep him. 
I could not doom 40 death the babe I clafp'd : 
Did ever mother kill her fleeping boy ? 
I dare not hazard it. The tafk be thinft 
Oh 1 do not wake my child •, remove him foftly ^ 
And gently lay him on the river's brink. 

Mir. Did tliofe magicians, whom the fons of Egypt 
Confult, and think all-potent, join their ikill, 
And was it great as Egypt's fons believe ; 
Yet all their fecret wizzard arts combined, 
To fave this little ark of bulruflies, 
Thus fearfully expos'd, could not effe<£l it.. 
Their fpells, their incantations, and dire charow 
Could not preferve it. 

Joch, Know this ark is charm'd 

With fpells, which impious Egypt n^ver knew. 
With invocations to the living God, 
I twifted every flender reed together, 
And with a prayer did every oiler weave. 

Mir. I go. 

Jocb. Yet e'er thou go'ft,obferve me well. 
When thou haft laid him in his watry bed, 

leave him not •, but at a diftance wait, 

And mark what Heavn'^s high will determines for him* 
Lay him among the Hags on yonder beach, 
Juft where the royal gardens meet the Nile. 

1 dare not follow him. Sufpicion's eye 


Would note my wild demeanor ; Miriam, yes, 
The mother's fondnefs would betray the child. 
Farewell I God of my fathers, Oh proteft him {■ 

Speech of Caius Cassius to his collect- 
ed Forces, after the i>eath of Cesar. 

Soldiers and Fellow-Citizens, 

THE unjuft reproaches of our enemies, we could 
eafily difprove, if we were not, by our numbers, 
and by the fwords which we hold in our hands, in^ con- 
dition to defpifc them. While Cefar led the armies of 
the republic agairift the enemies of Rome, we took 
part in the fame (ervice with him ; we obeyed him ; 
we were happy to ferve under his command. But 
when he declared war againft the commonwealth, we 
became his enemies ; and when he became an ufurpet 
and a tyrant, we rcfented, as an injury, even the fa- 
vours which he prefumed to beftow upon ourfelves. 

Had he been to fall a facrifice to private refentment, 
we fliould not have been the proper aftors in the exe- 
cution of the fentence againft him. He was willing to 
have indulged us with preferments and honors ; but 
we were not willing to accept as the gift of a mafter, 
what we were entitled to claim as free citizens. We 
conceived that, in prefuming to confer the honors of 
the Roman republic, he encroached on the prerogatives 
of the Ro(nan people, and infulted the authority of 
the Roman fenate. Cefar cancelled the laws, and over- 
turned the conftitulion of his country •, he ufurped all 
the powers of the commonwealth, fet up a monarchy, 
and himfelf afFefted to be a king. This our anceftors, 
at the expulfion of Tarquin, bound themfelves and 
their pofterity, by the moft folemn oaths, and by the 
rnioft direful imprecations never to endure. The fame 
obligation has been entailed upon us as a debt by our 
fathers 5 and we, having faithfully paid and difchlarged 


it, have per£ormed the ofl^h, and averted the confe* 
quences of failure from ourfelves, and from our po& 

In the ftation of foldiers, we might have committed 
ourfelves) without reflexion, to the coipmand of an 
ojSicer, whofe abilities and whofe valor we admired ; 
but, in the charadter of Roman citizens, we have a far 
different part to fuftain. I muft fuppofe, that I now 
fpeak to the Roman people, and to citizens of a free 
republic; to men who have never learned to depend 
upon others for gratifications and favours ; who are not 
accuftomed to own a fuperior, but who are themfelves 
the mafters, the difpenfers of fortune and of honor, 
and the givers of all thoie dignities and powers by 
which Ccfar himfelf was exalted, and of which he af^ 
lumed the entire difpofal. 

RecoUeft from whom the Scipios, the Pompeys, and 
even Cefar himfelf derived his honors; from your an- 
ceftors, whom you now reprefent, and from yourfelvcs, 
to whom, according to the laws of the republic, we, 
who are now your leaders in the field, addrefs ourfelves 
as your fellow-citizens in the commonwealth, and at 
perfons depending on your pleafure for the juft reward 
and retribution of our fervices, Happy in being able 
to reftore to you what Cefar had the prdumption to 
appropriate to himfelf, the power and the dignity ol 
your fathers, with the fupreme difpofcl of all the of- 
fices of truft that were eftabliihed for your fafety, and 
for the prefervation of your freedom ^ happy in being 
able to reftore to the tribunes of the Roman people the 
power of protefting yon, and of procuring to every 
Roman citizen that jufiace, which, under the late ufur- 
pation of Cefar, was withheld, even from the facred 
perfons of thofe magiflrates themfelves. 

An ufupper is the common enemy of all good citizens; 
but the talk of removing him could be the bufinefs only 
of a few. The fenate and the Roman people, as foon 
as it WW jproper for them to declare their judgment, 
ju-onouoced their approbation of thofe who were co*^- 


cerned in the death of Cefar, by the rcwardsr and the 
honors which they beftowed upon them ; and they arc 
now become a prey to affaffins and murderers ; they 
bleed in the ftreets, in the temples, in the moil fecret 
retreats, and in the arms of their families j or they are 
difperfed, and fly wherever they hope to efcape the 
fury of their enemies. 

Many are now prefent before you, happy in your 
proteftiouj^ happy in witneffing the zeal which you en- 
tertain for the commonwealth, for t;he rights of your 
fellow- citizens, and for your own. Thefe refpediable 
citizens, we truft, will foon, by your means, be reftor- 
cd to a condition in which they can enjoy, together 
with you, all the honors of a free people ; concur with 
you, in beftowing, and partake with you in receiving, 
the rewards which are due to fuch eminent fervices as 
you are now engaged to perform. 

Part of Mr. Erskine*s Speech against 
Mr. Pitt, 1784. 

Mr. Speaker, 

IT becomes us to learn, not from the minifter, but 
from the Throne itfelf, whether this country is to 
be governed by men, in whom the Houfe of Commons 
can confide, or whether we, the people of England's 
Reprefentatives, are to be the fport and football of any 
junto that may hope to rule over us, by an unfeen and 
unexplorable principle of government, utterly unknown 
to the Conftitution. This is the great queftion, to 
which every public-fpirited citizen of this country 
fliould direft his view. A queftion which goes very 
vndc of the policy to be adopted concerning India, 
about which very wife and very honeft men, not only 
might, but have, and did materially differ. 

^"he total removal of all the executive fervants of 
own, while they are in the full enjoyment of the 


cQDfidence of that Houfe, and indeed, without any 
other vifible or avowed caufe of removal, than becaufe 
they do enjoy that confidence^ and the appointment 
of others in tlieir room, without any other apparent 
ground of feled^ion than becaufe they enjoy it not^ is 
in my mindj a moft alarming and portentous attack on 
the public freedom ; becaufe^ though no outward form 
of the government is relaxed or violated by it, fo as? 
inftantly to fupply the conftitutional remedy of oppo- 
iition, the whole fpirit and energy of the government 
is annihilated by it. 

If the Right Honorable Gentleman retain his own 
opinions, and if the Houfe likewife retain its own, is it 
not evident that he came into office without the moft dis- 
tant profpeft of ferving the public ? Is it not evident 
that he has brought on a ftruggle between executive 
and legiflative authority, at a time when they are point- 
ing with equal vigor, unity, and effeft, to the common 
interefts of the nation ? 

The Right Honorable Gentleman may imagine that 
I take pleafure in^ making thefe obfervations. If fo, I 
can aflure him, upon my honor, that it is far^ 
^ng the cafe. So very far *he contrary, that the incon^ 
veniencies which the country fuffers at this moment, 
from the want of a fettled government, are greatly 
heightened to my feelings, from the rcfleftion that 
they are increafed by his unguided ambition. 

Our fathers were friends 5 and I was taught, from 
my infancy, to reverence the name of Pitt 5 an original 
partiality, which, inftead of being diminifhed, was 
'ftrongly confirmed by an acquaintance with the Right 
Honorable Centleman hknfeif, which I was cultivating 
with pleafure, when he was taken from his prof eflion 
into a different fcene. Let him not think that I am 
the Icfs his friend, or the mean envier of his talents, 
becaufe they have been too much the topic of pane- 
gyric here. already, and both I and the public are now 
*€'4plng the bitter fruits of thefe intemperate praifes^ 


«« It IS good," faid Jeremiah, « for a man to bear 
•Ac yoke in his youth ;" and iJF the flight Honorable 
Gentleman had attended to this maxim^ ^e would not, 
at fo early a period, have declared «gainA a fubordi<' 
nate ^tuation ; but would have lent the aid of his fac- 
ilities to carry on the affairs of this country, which 
wanted nothing but ftability-to render them glorious 
jnftead of fetting up at once for himfelf to be the firft. 

How very different has been the progrefs of my 
honorable friend who fits near me ; who was not 
Jiatched at once into a minifter, by the heat of his own 
ambition; but who, as it 'was good for him to do, In 
the words of the prophet, *«bore the yoke in his youth ;'* 
pafled through the fubordinate offices, and matured his 
talents, in long and laborious oppofitlons ; arriving by 
the n;itural progrefs of his powerful mind, to a fupc- 
riority of political wifdooi and comprehenfion, which 
this Houfe had long, with delight and fatisfaction, ao- 

To pluck fuch a man from the councils of liis coun- 
try in the hour of her didrefles, while he enjoyed the 
full confidence of the Houfe, to give effe£l to vigorous 
plans for her intereft ; and to throw every thing into 
confiifibn, by the introduAion of ottier men, introduc- 
ed, as it ihould feem, tfor no .other purpofe than tp 
beget that conf^fion, is an evil, which, if we cannot 
xt&ffy, we may at leaft have leave to lament. 

Thefe evils are, however, .imputed, by the Right 
2^onorable Gentleman and his colleagues, to another 
fource ; to the bill for the regulation of the Eaft In- 
dies; from the mifchiefs of which they had ftepped 
iforth to fave the country j a language moft indecent 
in this 'Houfe of Commons, virfaich thought it their duty 
to the public to pafs it by a majority of above one hun- 
,dred ; but which was, howcv^, to be taken to be de- 
firuAive and dangerous, not withfian ding that author* 
ity ; becaufe it had been difapproved by a majority of 
eighteen votes in the rHoufe of .Lords. Some of whofc 
- '-•ions I j«vcrenc(? as cqnfciemiou s ^nd independejit/, 


But the majority of that fmall majority voted tfptiii 
f^inciples which the forms of the Houfe will not per- 
mit me to allude to, farther than to fay, that individ- 
ual NMemen are not always Gentlemen. 

Extract from^ Pres'ident Washington's 
Address to the PkaPLE of the United Staters 
Sept. 17, 1796. 

Friends and Fellow-Citizens, 

THE period for a new eleftion of a citizen to ;id- 
minifter the executive government of the United 
States, being not fivr diftant 5 and the time aftually 
arrived, when your thoughts muft be employed in dc- 
fignating the perfon, who is to be clothed with that 
important truft, it appears to me proper, efpecially as 
it may conduce to a more diftinft expreffion of the 
public voice, that I fliould now apprife you of the ref- 
olution I have formed, to decline being confidercd 
among tlie number of thofe, out of whom a choke is 
to be made. 

I beg you, at the fame time, to do me the juftice to 
be aflured, that this refolution has not been taken, 
without a ftri£t regard to all the conllderations apper- 
taining to the relation, which binds a dutiful citizen to 
his country ; and that, in withdrawing the tender of 
fervice which filence in my fituation might imply, 1 
am influenced by no diminution of zeal for your future 
intereft .; no deficiency of grateful refpcift for your pad 
kindnefs ; but am lupported by a full convi^iion that 
the flep is compatible with both. 

The acceptance of, and continuance hitherto in th^ 
office to which your fufFrages have twice "called me, 
have been a uniform facriiice of inclination to the opin- 
ion of duty, and to a deference for what appeared to 
be your defirc. I conftantly hoped, that it would have 
l)ec» much earlier in ftiy pow«r, confiftcntly with 


lives, which I was not at liberty to difregard, to return 
to that retirement from which I had been reluftantly 
drawn. The ftrength of my inclination to do thir, 
previous to the laft eleftion, had even led to the prep 
aration of an addrefs to declare it to you 5 but mature 
refleftion on the then perplexed and critical pofture of 
our affairs with foreign nations, and the unanimous ad- 
vice of perfons entitled to my confidence^ impelled me 
■to abandon the idea. 

I rejoice, that the fbate of your concerns, external 
as well as internal, no longer renders the purfuit of 
inclination incompatible with, the fentiment of duty, 
or propriety j and am periuaded, whatever partiality 
may be retained for my fer vices, that in the prefent 
circumftances of our country, you will not difapprove 
my determination to retire. 

The imprefllons, with which I fir ft undertook the 
arduous truft, were explained on the proper occafion. 
In the difcharge of this truft, I will only fay that I 
have with good intentions contributed towards the or- 
ganization and adminiftration of the government, the 
beft exertions of which' a very fallible judgment was 
capable. Not unconfcious, in the outfet, of the infe- 
riority of my qualifications, experience in my own eyes, 
perhaps ftill more in the eyes of others, has flrength- 
cned the motives to diffidence of myfelf ; and every 
day the increafing weight of years admonifties me more 
and more, that the fl^ade of retirement is as neceflary 
to me as it will be welcome. Satisfied that if any cir- 
cumftances have given peculiar value to my fervices, 
they were temporary, I have the confolation to believe, 
that while choice and prudence invite me to quit the 
political fcene, patriotifm does not forbid it. 

In looking forward to the moment, which is intend- 
ed to terminate the career of my public life, my feel- 
ings do not permit me to fufpend the deep acknowl- 
edgement of that debt of gratitude which I owe to my 
beloved country, for the many honors it has conferred 

nn me ; ftill i»ore for the ftcdfaft confidence wilh 


vrhich it has fupported me ; and for the opportunities 
I have thence enjoyed of manifefting my inviolable at- 
tachment, by fervices faithful and perfevering, though 
in ufcfulnefs unequal to my zeal. If benefits have re- 
fuUed to our country from thefe fervices, let it always 
be remembered to your praife, as an inftruftive exam- 
ple in our annals, that under circumftanccs in which 
the paffions, agitated in every direftion, were liable to 
miflead ;: amidit appearances fometimes dubious ; vicif- 
fitudes of fortune often difcouragtng : in fituations in 
which, not unfrequently, want of fuccefs, has counte- 
nanced the fpirit of criticifm •, the conftancy of your 
fupport was the eflential prop of the efforts, and a 
guarantee of the plans by which they were effefted. ^ 

Profoundly penetrated with this idea, I fliall carry it 
with me to my grave, as a ftrong incitement to unceaf- 
ing vows that Heaven may continue to you the choiccft 
tokens of its benejficence •, that your union and broth- 
erly affe^on may be perpetual j that the free confti- 
tution, which is the work of your hands, may be fa* 
credly maintained ; that its adminiftration in every de- 
partment, may be ftamped , with wifdom and virtue j 
that, in fine, the happinefsof the people of thefe States, 
under the aufpices of liberty, may be made complete, 
by fo careful a prefervation and fo prudent a ufe of this 
bleiling, as will acquire to them the glory of recoin* 
mending it to the applaufe, the affection, and adoption 
of every nation which is yet a ftranger to it. 

Though in reviewing the incidents of my adminis- 
tration, I am unconfcious of intentional error ; I am 
neverthelefs too fenfible of mydefefts not to think i« 
probable that I may have committed many errorsi 
Whatever they may be, I fervently befcech the Al- 
mighty to avert or mitigate the evils to which they 
tend. I fliall alfo carry with mc the hope that my 
country will never ceafe to view them with indulgence^ 
and after forty-five years of my life dedicated to its fcr- 
vice, with an upright zeal, the fau-ts of incompcte^ 


abilities will be configned to oUivioiii as^ myfelf moft 
foon be to the manfions of reft. 

Relying on its kindnefs in this as in other things'^ 
and actuated by that fervent love towards it, which is 
(o natural to a man who views in it the native foil of 
himfelf and his progenitors for fevefal generations, I 
anticipate with pleafing expectation that retreat, in 
which I pronufe myfelf to realize, withont alloy, the 
fweet enjoyment of partaking, in the midft of my feU 
low-citizens, the benign inflaence of good laws under 
a free government ; the ever favourite ohjcft of my 
heart, and the happy reward, as I tnift, of our mutual 
cares, labors, and dangers. 

Dialogue oi^ the Choice of Business for 

Enter Edward, Cha&let, and Thomas. 

Fdw d T^ appears to me high time for us to choofe 

'owar . j^ our bufincfs for life. Our academical 

ftudies will foon be completed ; and I wifh to look a 

little forward. What fay you ? am I right ? 

Charley, It may be well for you : poor men's fons muft 
look out for themfelves. My faither is able to fupport 
me at nfy eafe; and my mama fays fhe would rather 
fee me laid in a coffin than fiiut up in a ftudy, fpoiliiig 
my eyes and racking my brains, plodding over your 
nonfenfical mintfter, do^or, and lawyer books ; and I 
am fure fhe would never have me confined behind a 
counter, or a merchant's deik. She intends I ihall be 
brought up a gentleman. My mother is of noble blood, 
and (he don't intend that I Ihall difgrace it. 

Edw. Tray, niaftcr Charley, who was the father of 
your noble-blooded mother ? 

Char. A gentlemen, I'd have you to know. 

Ednv. Yes, a gentleman cobbler, to my kiiovi ledge. 

Char, Aye, he followed that bufincfs, to be fare, 
fometimes, to ftop the clamour of the vulgar. Then 


poor people could not bear to fee a rich man living at 
his eafe, or give a nobleman his title. But times are 
altering for the better, my mama fays : the rich begin 
to govern now. We flisdl foon live in ftyle, and wear 
titles here as well as in England. She intends to fend 
over and get my coat of arms, and flie hopes to add 
a title to them. 

Ednv. High ftyle ! titles ! smd coats of arms ! fine 
things in America, to be fare ! Well^ after ail, I can't 
really difapprove of your mama's plan. A iapftone, 
an awl, and ihoe-hammer, will make a fine picture, and 
may appear as well in your mother's parlour, as in her 
fathers (hop ! and the title of cobbler, or fhoe^^maker 
would well become her darling Charley. 

Char. I will not be infulted on account of my grand^ 
father's employment, V\\ have you to know ! I have 
heard my mother fay/ her father was grandfbn of an 
aunt of 'fquire Thorn, who onee had a horfe that run 
a race with the famous horfe of a coufin of the Duke 
of Bedford, of— — * 

Edw. Quite enough ! I am fully convinced of the 
jufiice of your claim to the title of Duke, or whatever 
you pleafe. About as much merit in it, I perceive, as 
in your ftither^s title to his eftate. Ten thoufand dol- 
lars drawn in a lottery } already two thirds fpent. A 
title to nobility derived from the grandfon of an aunt 
of 'fquire Thorn, fifom Yquire Thorn's horfe, or per- 
haps from fome monkey, that has been a favourite play- 
mate with the prince of Wales. Thefe are to be the 
fupport of your eafe and honor through life. Welly I 
believe there is no need of your troubling yourfelf about 
your future employment : that is already determmed. 
Depend upon it, you will repent of your folly, or fcratch 
a poor man's head as long as you live. I advife you to 
fet about the former, in order to avoid the latter. 

Char. I did not come to you for advice. Ill not bear 
your infults, or difgrace myfelF with your company any 
longer. My parents fliall teach you better manners. 

lEmt Chailh. 


. Thomas* I pitf the- vanity and weakne& of this foor 
lad. But refleAion and experience will teach him the 
fallacy of his hopes. 

Edw, Poor child i he does not know that his lot- 
tery money is almoft gone ; that his £ither?s houTe ii 
mortgaged for more than it is worth ; and that the only 
care of his parents is to keep up the appearance of pref- 
ent grandeur, at th^ expenfe of future fliame. Happy 
for usy that we. are. not deluded with fuch deceitfm 

. Tbo. My parents were poorj not proud. They ex- 
perienced the want of learning ; but were refol vcd their 
children fhould ihare the benefit of a good education. I 
am the fourth Ton, who owe the debt of filial gratitude. 
All but myfelf are well fettled in bufinefs, and doing 
honor to themfelves and their parents. If I fall fhort 
of their example, I fhall be moft ungrateful. 

. Edw. I have neither father nor mother to excite my 
gratitude, or ftimulate my exertions. But I wi(h to 
behave in fuch si manner, that if my parents could look 
down and obferve my actions, they might approve my 
conduA. Of my &mily, neither root nor branch re- 
mains; all have paid the debt of nature. They left 
a name for honefty v and I efteem that higher than a 
pretended title to greatnefs. They have left me a fmall 
farm, which, though not enough for my fupport, will, 
with my own induftry, be fufficldnt. For employment 
to pafs away the winter feafon, I have determined up- 
on keeping a fchool for my neighbours' children. 

Tbo. I heartily approve of your determination. 
Our mother Earth rewards, with peace and plenty, 
thofe, who cultivate her face ; bift loads, with anxious 
cares, thofe, who dig her bowels for treafure. The 
life you contemplate is favourable to the enjoyment of 
focial happinefs, improvementof the mind, and fecurity 
of virtue ; and ^he talk of training the tender mind is 
an employment, that ought to meet the encourage- 
ment, the gratitude of every parent, and the rcfgeftof 
every child. 


£dw. I am pleafed that you approve my choice. 
Will you frankly tell me your own ? 

Tbo, I will : my intention is to follow the inclina* 
lion of my kind parents. It is their defire that I (hould 
be a preacher. Their other fons have taken to other 
callings ; and they wifh to fee one of their children in 
the defk. If their prayers are anfwered, I fhall b^ 
fitted for the important taik. To my youth, it appears 
formidable; but others, with lefs ad vantages,, have fuc- 
ceeded, and been blefiings to fociety, and an honor to 
their profeffion. 

£ciw. You have chofen the better part. Whatever 
tlie licentious may lay to the contrary, the happinefs 
of fociety muft reft on the principles of virtue and re- 
ligion J and the pulpit muft be the nurfcry, where they 
are cultivated. 

Tho. « ^The pulpit; 

And I name it, fiU'd with folemn awe, 

Muft ftand acknowledged, while the world fhall ftand, 

Thje moft important and effbStual guard. 

Support and ornament of virtue's caufe. 

There ftands the meflenger of truth. There ftands 

The legate of the fkies : his theme divine. 

His office facred, his credeotials clear. 

By him the violated law ipaaks out 

Its thunders, and by him, in ftrains as fweet 

As angels ufe, the gofpel whifpers peace." 

My heart glows with the fubjeft ; and if my abilitfes 
could equal my zeal, I could at leaft hope to realize 
the fublime character, fo beautifully drawn by Cowpcr. 

jS^/^. It is a laudable ambition- to aim at eminence 
in religion,^ and excellence in virtue. 


Speech of Buonaparte, CommaiJder in 
Chief of the French Armt in Italy, before 
HIS Attack ON Milan, April 26, 1796. 


YOU have in a fortnight gained fix viftorles; 
taken twenty-one (lands of colours j fevcnty-one 
pieces of canon ; feveral ftrong places ; conquered the 
richeft part of Piedmont; you have made fifteen. 
thoufand prifoners, and killed or wounded more than 
ten thoufand men. You had hitherto fought only for 
fterile rocks, rendered illuftrious by your courage, but 
ufelefs to the country 5 you have equalled by your fcr- 
vices the viftorious army of Holland and^ the Rhine. 
Deprived of every thing, you have fupplied every thing. 
You have won battles without cannon ; made forced 
marches without fhoes ; watched without brandy, and 
often without bread. The republican phalanxes, the 
foldiers of liberty were alone capable of fuffering what 
;^ou have fuffered. 

Thanl^s be to you, foldiers. The grateful country 
will, in part,, be indebted to you for her profpcrity ; 
and if, when viftorious at Tojulon, you predicted the 
immortal campaign of 1 794, your prefent viftories will 
be the prefages. of more brilliant viftories. The two 
armies which attacked you with audacity, fly diflieart- 
ened before you. Men, who fmiled at your mifery, 
and rejoiced in thought at the idea pf the triumphs of 
your enemies, are confounded and appalled. But it 
muft not, foldiers, be concealed from you, that y^ou 
have done nothings ilnce fomething remains yet to be 
done. Neither Turin nor Milan are in your power. 
The aflies of the conquerors of the Tarquins are ftill 
difgraced by the affaffins of Bafleville. At the com- 
mencement of the campaign you were deftitute of ev- 
>ry thing 5 now you arc amply provided \ the maga^- 


eines taken from your enemies are numeroas ; the ar- 
tillery for the fi^ld and for befieging is arrived. 

Soldiers, the country has a right to expe£t great 
ihing%from yoaj juftify her expectations* The great- 
>cft obftacles are undoubtedly overcome ; but you have 
Aill battles to fight) cities to take, rivers to pafs. Is 
there one among you whofe courage is dimSAifhed ? Is 
there one who would prefer returning to the fummits 
of the Alps and the Appenines ? No : all burn with 
the defire of extending the glory of the French 5 to 
humble the proud kings who dare to meditate j>uttiog 
us again in chains ; to dictate a peace that QizU be 
glorious, and that fhall indemnify the country for the 
immeniefacrifices wWch (he has made. All of you 
"burn with a defire to fay on your return to yourhome^ 
I belonged to the viftorious army of Italy. 

Jriends, I promife this conqueft to you ; l5ut there 
is one condition which you muft fwear to fulfil -, it is 
to refpeft the people whom you deliver ; to rcprels 
the horrible pillage which fome wretches, inftigated by 
our enemies, had pra£tifed. Unlefs you do this, you 
will no longer be the friends, but the fcourges of the 
human race; you will no longer form the honor of 
the French people. They .will difavow you. Your 
viftorics, your fuccefles, the blood of your brethren 
who died in battle; all, even honor and glory will be 
loft. With rcfpeft to myfelf; to the generals whp 
pofiiefs ydur confidence, we fhall blu£h to command an 
army without difciptine, and who admit of no other Jaw 
« tlijah that of force. 

People of Italy, the French army comes to break 
.your chains ; the French people are the friends of all 
people*, come with confidence to them; your prop- 
erty, religion, and cuftoms fhall be rcfpe£bed. We 
make war as generous .enemies ; and wifli only to make 
war agaipft t£e tyrants who oppri^fs yoiu 


Mr. Pitt's Speech, Nov. i8, 1777, in op- 
»«»osiTiON TO Lord Suffolk, who proposed to 
Parliament to employ the Indians against 
THE Americans ; and who said in the Course 
of the Debate, that "they had a Right 
JO use all the Means that God and Na- 

My Lords, 

IAM aftonifhed to hear fuch principles confcfled ! 
I am fhocked to hear them avowed in this Houfe, 
or in this country ! Principles, equally unconftitutional^ 
inhuman, and unchriftian-f 

My lords, I did not intend to have encroached 
again on your attention ; but I cannot reprefs my in- 
<lignation. I feel myfelf impelled by every duty. My 
lords, we are called upon as members of this Houfe, 
as men> as Chriftian men, to proteflagainft fuch notions 
ftanding near the throiie, polluting the ear of Majefty. 
'« That God and nature put into our hands !" I know 
not what ideas that lord may entertam of God and 
nature ; but 'I know, that inch abominable principles 
areequally abhorrent to rcKgion and humanity. 

What ! to attribute the facred fanftion of God and 
nature to the maflacres of the Indian fcalping knife J 
to'the cannibal iavage, torturing, murdering, roafting 
and eating; literally, my lords, eating the mangled 
viAims of his barbarous battles ! Such horrible notions 
fhock every precept of religion, divine or natural, and 
every generous feeling of humanity. And, my lords, 
they fhock every fentiment of honor; they ihock me 
as a lover of honorable war, and a detefter of murder- 
ous barbarity. 

Thefe abominable principles, and this more abomina- 
ble avowal of them, demand the moft decifive indigna- 
^tionii I call upon that Right Reverend fiench^ thofe holy 


ittiniftars of thcgofpcl, and pious paftors oFouf church : 
I conjure them to join in the holy work, and vindicate 
the religion of their God. I appeal to the wifdom and 
the law of this learned henchy to defend and fupport the 
juftice of their country. I call upon the biihops, to 
interpofe the unfulUcd fanftity of their tawn ; upon 
the learned judges, to interpofe the parity of their 
t ^rrmne^ to fave us from this pollution. I call upon the 
honour of your lordfhips, to reverence the dignity of 
your anceftors, and to maintain your own. I call up- 
on the fpirit and humanity of my country, to vindicate 
the national charafter. I invoke the genius of the coo- 

From the tapeftry that adorns thefe walls, the im* 
mortal lanceftor of this noble lord frowns with indig- 
nation at the difgrace of his country. In vain be led 
your vidoriQus fleets againft the boafted armada of 
Spain \ in vain he defended and eftabUihed the honor, 
the libjerties^ the religion, the proteftant religion of this 
country, againft the arbitrary criidties of popery and 
the in^uifition, if thefe more than popifii cruelties and 
inquifitorial praAices are let loofe among us ; to turn 
, ibrth into our fettlements, among our smcient con« 
nexians, friends, and relations, the mercilefs cannibal, 
thirfting for the blood of man, woman and chiid ! to 
fend forth the itifidcl favage— -againft whom ? againii: 
your proteftant brethren \ to lay wafte their country ; 
to deiblate their dwellings, and extirpate their race and 
name, with theie horrible hell-hounds of {avage. war I 

Spain armed hericif with blood^hounds, to extirpate 
the wretched natives of America ; and we improve on 
the inhuman, example even of Spanifh cruelty. We 
turn loofe thefe favage hell-hounds againft our breth- 
jTen and cotmtrymen in America, of the fame language^ 
laws, liberties, and religion \ endeared to us by every 
tie that ihould fanflify humanity. 

My lords, this awful ful^eft, fo impcMtant to our 
honor, our conftitotion, and our religion, demands the 
flioft folemn and effectual inquiry. And I again calt 


i]j>on your lordfliipsj and the umted powers of the 
flate^ to examine it thoroughly, and decifivelyi ^nd to 
ftamp upon it an indelible iligma of the public abhor«- 
rence. jfind I again implore thofe lioly prelates of our 
religion, to do away thefe inicjuities from ^mong us. 
Let them perform a luftration ; let them purify this 
, Houfe, iind this country from this fin. 

My lordsj i am old and weak, and at prefent una^ 
ble to fay more ; but my feelings and indignation were 
loo ftrong to have faid left. I could not haveflept this - 
night in my bed, nor repofed my head, on my pillow, 
without giving this vent to my eternal abhorrence of 
/uch prepoftprous an4 enormous principles^ 



[N.R The Author is 4iappy in believing, that the following Di- 
alogue is applicabk to but/it<; towns andi/evf teachers in this ci>tin* 
try ; but) fo long 98 there area^^ remaining to wh(up,it,ma]r s^ppl/^ 
he. thinks a Ai0icient apology c^ids for its publication.] 

SCENE, a PuUk floufey in the town of , 

Enter School-Master^ with a pack on his bach 

^ L 1 a T TOW fare you landlord ? what have 
C,hoolmaJler. J-j^ ^^^ ^^^ ^j^^^,^ ^^^ ^^ ^^.^^ p 

Landlord. I have gin, Weft-India, genuine New- 
jEngland, whifkey, and cider brandy. 

Schoo/m. Make us a ftifF mug of fling. Put In a 
gill and a half of your New-England 5 and fweeten it 
i^ell with lafles* 

Land. It fliall be done. Sir, to your liking. 

Schoolm. Do you know of any vacancy in a fchool 
in your part of the country, landlord ? 

Land. There is a vacancy in our tiiftrift \ and I c;x;- 
•^ift the parfon^ with our three fchool- co;iimittee;nc;iij, 


f^llt be at my houfe direftly, to confult upon matters 
relative to the fchoo!. 

Scffoolm. Well, here's thie lad that will ferve theirf 
as cheap as any man in America •, and I believe I may 
venture to fay as ivetl to ; for I profefs no fmall (hare 
of £kill in that buiinefs. I have kept fchool eleven win- 
terr, and have often had matter of iifty fcholars at » 
time. I have teach*d a child his letters in U day, and 
to read in the Pfalter in a fortnight : and I always feel 
very much aflianied, if I ufe more than one quir« of 
paper in larnin a boy to write as well as his maflef. 
As for government,- rU turn my back to no man. I 
never flog my fcholars; for that monftrous doftrineof 
whippin children, which ha? been fo long preached 
and praftjfed by oui: rigid and fnperftitious forp fathers, 
I have long fince exploded'. I have a rare knack of 
jpattering them into their duty. And this, according 
to a celebrated Doftor at Philadelphia, whofe works 1 
have heard of, tliough I never read them, is the grand 
criterion of fchool government. It is, landlord, it id 
the very philofopher's ftone. I -am told, likewife, that 
jhis faroejreatPoftor does not-td-l cvc ll;*l S^k fimffir 
^tiT otSers really meaiU tichtif in the proper fenfc of 
the wprd» when they talked fo much about ufing tlic 
rod, &c. He fuppofes, that they meant confining theiiti 
in dungeons } flarving them for three or four days at a 
time ; and then giving them a portion of tatromattucks, 
and fuch kinds of mild punifliment. And, zounds, 
landlord, I believe he's above half right* 

Land, [Giving the cup to the tna/ler,'] Mafte r 
What may 1 call your name, Sir, if I may be fo bold i 

Schoo/m. Ignoramus, at your fervice. Sir. 

Land. Mafter Ignoramus, I am glad to fee you. 
Tou afc the very man we wifh for. Our committee 
won't hefitate a moment to employ youj when they 
become acquainted with your talents. Your; fenti- 
ments on government I know will foit opr people to a 
nicety. Our laft mafter was a tyrant of a fellow, and 
very extravagant in his pyicc. He grew fo impo'**^'*-'- 


tlie latter part of his time, that he had the front«ry4o 
demand ten dollars a month and his board. ^And he 
might truly be faid to rule with a red of iron; for he 
l^ept an ironwood cudgel in his fchool, four feet long ; 
and it was enough to chill one'is blood to hear the 
Ibrieks of the little innocents, which were caufed by 
kis barbarity. I have heard my wife fay, that Sue Gof- 
fip told hefi that ihe has feen the marks of his lalhes 
on the back of her neighbour Rymplc^s fori Darlings 
for twelve hours after the drubbing. At leaft, the boy 
told her with his own mouth, that they might be feen> 
if they would only take the trouble to drip his (hirt 
off. And, bcfides, Maftcr Ignoramus, he was the moft 
niggardly of all the human race. I don't fuppofe that 
my bar-room was one dollar the richer for him^ in the" 
courfe of the whole time which he tarried with u«. 
While the young people of the town were recreating 
themfelves, and taking a fociable glafs, of an evening, 
at my houfc, the ftupid blockhead was ctarnally in his 
chamber, poring over his mufty books. But finally he 
did the job for himfelf, and I am rejoiced. The wretch 
liad the daciry to box little Sammy Puney's ears at 

fuch an intoleraDie rate, taac aho pZIT!!!! -...7 t* * pCCr 
'child will be an ideot all the days of his life. And all . 
this, for nothing more, than partly by defign, and part-* 
ly through mere accident, he happened to (pit in his 
niaftcr's face. The child being nephew to the Yquire, 
you may well fuppofe^ that the whole neighbourhood 
was foon in an uproar. The indignation of the mothcF, 
father, aunts, uncles, coufins, and indeed the whole cir- 
f:le of acquaintance, was roufed ; and the poor fellow 
was hooted out of town in lefs than twenty- four hours. 
Schoolm. IPriniing sff his liquor. '\ This is a rare 
d6fe. Believe me, landlord, I have not tailed a drop 
before, fince fix o'clock this morning, \Enter Par/on 
Mnd Committee Men.^ Your humble farvant, gentle- 
men. I nnderAasd you are in want of « (chool^ 
mafter. r 


Parfon. Yes, Sir % that b the occafion of oui» prcf-- 
<Sit meeting. We have been fo unfortunate as to lofe 
one goo4 man j and we ihould be very glad to finiJ 

\ft Committer Man* Pray don't fay unfortunate Par* 
fon. I think we may confider ourfclvcs as very for* 
tunatcj in having rid the town of an extravagant cox* 
comb, who ^as draining us of all the money we could 
earn, to fill his purfe, and rig. himfelf put with fint 
clothes. , 

id Com. Ten dollars a month, and board, for a man 
whofe tafk is fo eafy, is no fmall fum. 

3^ Com. I am bold to affirm, that we can procure 
a better man for half the money. 

Schoolnu That I believe, friend 5 for, though I ef- 
teem myfelf as good as the beft v that is to fay, in the 
common way ; yet I never axr'd but five dollars a 
month in all my life. 

Par. For my own part, whatever diefe gentlemen's 
opinion may be, I muft tell . you, that I am much lefs 
concerned about the wages we are to give, than I am 
about the charafter and. abilities of the man with whom 
we intruft the education of our children. I tad much 
rather you had faid you had received forty dollars 9 
month> than five. 

ijl Ctfm. Dear Sir, ypu are befide yourfelf. You 
. will encourage the man to rife in his price \ whereas I 
was in hopes he would hzwtfalleny at leaft one dollar. 

Par. Before we talk any further about the price, it 
is neceflary that we examine the gentleman according 
to law, in order to fatisfy ourfelves of his capability to 
ferve us. Friend, will you be fo obliging as to inform 
us where you received your education, and what your 
pretenfions are, with refpeft to your profeffion ? 

Schoolm. Law, Sir ! I never went tp college in my 

Par. I did not a(k you whether you had be^n to 
college or not. We wifh to know what education you 
have had J and whether, your abilities arefuch, as t' 
o a 


yoa can-do yourfelf honor in taking the ebal^c of af * 
common Engliih fchool. 

Schodm. Gentlemen, I will give you a fliort hiftor/ . 
rf my life. Trom feven, to fifteen years of age, I 
went to fchool perhaps as much as one year. In which 
time, I went through Dilworth's Spelling-Book, the 
Pfalter, the New/Teftament^. and could read the 
aewfpaper without fpelling more than half the words* 
By this time, feeling a little above the common level* 
I enlifted a foldier in the army, whdre I continiied fisf 
years ; and made fuch proficiency in the military art/ 
that I was frequently talked of for a corporal. I had 
Kkewife larn'd to write confiderably, and to cypher as 
fur as Divifion. The multiplication table I had at my 
tongue's end, and have not forgot it to this day. At 
length receiving a fevere flogging for nothing at all, I 
am not aihamed to own. that I deferted, and went into ' 
•ne of the back fettlements, and offered myfelf as a 
teacher. I was immedtateiy employed in that fervice ; 
and, though I am obliged to fay it myfelf, I do afiure 
you I foon became very famous* Since that time, 
which is eleven years, I have followed the bufinef&con* 
^antly ; at leaft, ev^pry winter ; for in the fummer, it 
is not cuftomary in the towns in general, to continue 
a man's fchool. One thing I would not forget to men- 
tion ; aiid that is, 1 have travelled about the country fo 
much, and been in the army fb long (which is allow- 
ed to be the beft fchool in the world) that I confider 
myfelf as being thoroughly acquainted with mankind* 
You will not be infenfible, gentlemen, of what great 
importance this lafi acquifition is, to one who has the 
care of youth. 

3^ Com, I admire his converfation. I imagine, by 
this time, you have cyphered clear through s have you 
jM>t, Sir ? 

Schoolm. Why, as to that, I have gone fo fur, that 
I thought I could fee through, I can tell how many 
iQinutes old my great grandfather was when his firft 

n was bom ; how many barky corns it woukt «al:e 


t# fiieafiire rouBd the world ; aiid how old the world 
will be at the end of fix thoufand years from the ere- 

ifi Com. It is very ftrange f You muft have ftudied 
hiurd, to learn all thefe thiogs, and that without a maf* 
^r too/ ; ' 

Scboolfrik Indeed I have. Sir; and if I had time, I ' 
could tell you things ftrangcr ftill. 

Par. Can you tellin what pare of the world you 
were -bora y whether in the torrid, frigid, or temperate 
2onc? * . 

; ScMm, . I waa not bcwrn in the zoon^^r^ nor in any 
ether of the Weft-India lilands; but I was bom \ti 
New-England, in the ftate of New-Jerfey, and Com* 
monwealth ^ the United States of America. 

Par. Do you kiiow how many parts of fpeech there 
are in the Engliih language ? 

Schoolm^ How many fpeechcs ! Why as many as 
there are "ftars in the.&y, leaves on the trees, or 
fands on the fea fliore." 

I/? Cam. Pleafe todet nte afk him a queftion, Par- 
fbn. How many commandments are there ? 

Schoolm. Ten, Sir ; and I knew them all before I 
went into the army. 

2t/ Com. Can you tell when the moon changes, by 
the almanac ? ' 

Scbooim. No •, but FU warrant you, I could foon tell 
by cyphering. n 

3^ Com. How many varfes are there in the 1 1 j)th 

Schoolm. Ah ! excufe me there, if you pleafe, Sir | 
I never meddle with pfalmody, or metajphyfics. 

Par. Will you tell me, my friend, what is the dif- 
ference between the circumference ^d the diameter of 
the globe ? 

Schoolm. There you areuoo hard for me again. I 
never larn'd the rule of circumftance nor geometry. 
I'll tell you what, gentlemen, I make no pretenfionsto 
minifter larnini lawyer larnini or do^or lamin; fir 


pat me upen yoiir clear fchoolmafter larnin, and there 
I am even with you. 

ifl Com. I am fatisfied with the gentleman. He has 
miffed but one queflrioU) and that was ftich a metatifical 
one/ that it would have puzzleda Jefuithimfelf tohavc 
anfwered it. Gentleman, ihall the niafter withdraw a 
few minutes, for our further confultation ? 

' . lExli Mafter, 

zd Com* I am much pleafed with the ftranger. He 
appears to be a man of wonderful parts $ and I {hall 
cheerfully agree to employ him. 

3^ Com, For my part, I don't think we fliall find 
a cheaper mafter y and I move for engaging him at once. 

Par. Gentlemen, how long will you be blind to your 
own intercft ? I can fay with you, that I am perfeftly 
Satisfied — that the man is, in his profei&on, emphatical- " 
ly what he calls htmfelf by name, an ignoramus ; and 
totally incapable of inftrufting our children. You 
know not who he is, or what he is ; whether he be a 
thief, a liar,.or a drunkard* The very terms on which 
he offers bimfelf, ought to operate as a fufficient ob- . 
je Aion againft him. I am fenfible that my vote will now . 
be of no avail, iince you are all agreed. I have been 
for years ftriving to procure a man of abilities and mort- 
als, fuitable for the employment ; and fuch a one I had 
obtained ; but, alas ! we were unworthy of him. We 
afperfed his charafter ; invented a multitude of falfe- 
koods 5 magnified every trifiing error in his conduft ; 
and even converted his virtues into vices. We refufcd 
to give him that pecuniary reward which his fervices 
demanded ^ and he, knowing hb own worth and our 
unworthinefs, has left us forever. 

t^ Com. Come, come, Parfon, it is eafy for falarjp 
men to talk of liberality, and to vote away money which 
they never earned ; but it won*t do. The new mafter, 
I dare engage, will do as well, or better than the old 
one. Landlord, call him in for his anfwer. 

Par. I proteft againft your proceeding, and with- 
-aw myfclf forever from the committee. But I mttft 


tell you, yoqr children will reap the hitter confequenf* 
ces of fuch injudicious meafures. It has always been 
furprifing to me that people in general are more wiU 
ling to pay their money for any thing elfe, than for. 
«* the one thing needful/* that is, for the education of 
their children. Their tailor moft be a workman, their 
carpenter a workman, their hairdrefler a workman^ 
their hoftler a workman i but the inftru£lor of their 
children muft-^- — work cheap / [^Exit Par/in* 

Re-enter School-Master. 

\Ji Com, We have agreed to employ you. Sir \ annJ 
have only to recommend to you, not to follow the 
fteps of your predeccflor. This is an " age of reafon j'* 
and we do not imagine our children fo ftupid, as to 
need the rod tp quicken their ideas, or fo vicious, as to 
require a nipral leiTon from the ffrule. Be gentle and 
accommodating, and you have nothing to fear. 

Land, V\\ anfwer for him. He's as gei^erous .an4 
merry a lad as I've bad in my houfc this many a day. 

Answer to Lord Mansfield, on the A jfair 
OP Mr. Wilkes, 1770. 

My Lords,. . 

THERS is one plain maximi to which I haveiiH 
variably adhered through life 5 that in ©very 
<^ueftion in which my liberty or my property were 
concerned, I fhould confult and be determined by the. 
di£tates of common fenfe. I confefi, my lords, that I , 
am apt to diftrufl the refinements of learning, becanfe 
I have feen the ableft and moft learned men equally . 
liable to deceive themfelves^ and to noiHead others. . 

The condition of humaii nature would be lamenta* 
hle indeed, if nothing lefs than the greateft learning 
and talents, which fall to the ihare of fo fmaU a num- 
b«f of men, were fiifRcient to diyeil w^t judgment ani 


oitr condod;. But Providence has taken better care of 
our happinefsi and given usj in the fimpHcity of com- 
mon fcnfe, a rule for our direftion, by which we ftiall 
never be mifled. 

i confefs, my lords, I had no other guide in drawing 
up the amendment, which I fubmittcd to your conQdU 
eration. And before I heard the opinbn of the noble 
lord who fpoke laft, I did not ' conceive, that it was 
tven withki the limits of poffibility for the greateft ha- 
floan genius, the mofl fubtle underftanding, or the 
adiiteft wit, (b^ftrangely to mifreprefent my meaning.i 
and to give it an interpretation fo entirely foreign fron^i 
what I intended to cxprcft, and from that fenfe, which 
the very terms of the amendment plainly and diftinftly 
carry with them. 

If there be the fmalleft foundation for the cenfqrc 
thrown upon me by that noble lord ; if, either exprefs- 
ly or by the mdft diftant implication, I have faid or in- 
finuated any part of what the noble lord has charged 
me withy difcard my opinions forever*, difcard the 
motion with contempt. 

My lords; I muft beg the indulgence of the lloufc. 
tfcrtfaer-irfit My .health' pefrnll me, nor do I pretend 
to be qualified, to follow that learned lord minutely 
through the whole of his argument. No man is better 
acquainted with his^ abilities and learning, nor has a 
greater refpeft for them, than I have. I have had the 
pleafure of fitting with him in (he other Houfe, and 
always Uftened to him with attention. I have not now 
loft a word of what he faid, nor did I ever. Upon th« 
pi^efent queftion, I hieet him without fear. 

The evidence, which truth carries with it, is fiipe- 
rior to all arguments ; it neither wants the fupport, 
nor dreads the oppofition of the greateft abilities. If 
there be a fingle.word in the amendment to juftify the 
interpretation, which the noble lord has been pleafed 
to give it, I am ready to renounce the whole. Let it 
be read, my lords } let it fpeak for itfelf. In what 
inflaftGC does k interfere with the privileges of tic 


Hou& of Commons? In what refp^ft does it q^eftion 
their jurifdiaion, or fuppofeap authority in this'floufc 
to arraign the juftice qf their Sentence? 

I am fure that every lord who hears mc, will bear 
fnt witnefs that I faid not one word touching the 
merits of the Middlefex eleAion. Far from.^onveyi|ig 
any opinion upon that matter in the amendment) I 
did not, even in difcourfe, deliver my own fentiment^ 
upon it. I did not fay that the Houfe of Commons 
had done either right or wrong 5 but when his Ma- / 
jefty was pleafed to recommend it to us to cultivate 
uftattimity amongft ourfelves, J thought it the duty of. 
this Houfe, as the gre^t hercciit;wy council of the crpwn^ 
to ftate to his Majefty the diftrafted condition of his« 
dominions, tbgetlKr. with the events which had dc*- > 
Aroy^d unanimity among his fubjeAs. 

But, my lords, I dated thofe events merely as fafts^ 
without the fmalleft addition either of cenfure or of 
opinion. They are fa£ls, my lords, which I am not 
only convinced are true, but which I ^pw are indif- 
putably true. 

Do they not tell us> in fo many wocds, that Mr* 
Wilkes, halving been expelled, was thereby rendered 
incapable of ferving in that Parliament ? and is it not 
their refolution alone, which refufesto the fubjeft his 
copimon right ? The amendment fays farti^crj that the 
cleftors of Middlefe,x are deprived of their free choice 
of a reprefentative. Is this a faft, toy lords ? or have 
I jiven an unfair reprefentation of it? Will any man 
prefume to affirm that Colonel Luttrell is the free 
choice of the electors of ^i^dlefex,? We all know the 

We all know that Mr. Wilkes (whom I mentioa 
without either praife or cenfure) was the favourite of 
fthe county, and chofen, by a very great and acknowl- 
edged majority, to reprefent them in Parliament. If 
the noble lord diilikes the manner in which thefe fa^s 
.are ftated, I fhall think myfelf happy in being advifed 
^j him how to alter it. I am very little anxious abo^ 


terms, provided the fubftances be preferved ; and thefe 
are faQs^ my lotds, which I am fure will always retain 
their weight and importance^ in whatever form of lan- 
guage they are deferibed. 

The conftitutlon of this country has been openly in- 
vaded in fa^l; and I have heard, with horror and af- 
tonifliment^that very invafion defended upon principle. 
What is this myftenous power, undefined by law, un- 
known to the fubjeil $ which we mufl: not approach 
without awe, nor fpeak of without reverence ; which 
no man may queftion, and to which all men muft fub- 
mit ? My lords, I thought the ilavifh dodtrine of pa£- 
five obedience had long iince been exploded: and, 
when our kings were obliged to confe& that their title 
to the crown, and the rule of their government, ,had 
no other foundation than the known laws of the land, 
I never expe&ed to hesr a divine right, or a divine in- 
fallibility, attributed to any other branch of the legis- 
lature. ' 

My lords, I beg to be underftood. No man refpe£ls 
the Houfe of Commons more than I do, or would con- 
tend moreArenuoully than I would, to preferveto them 
their juft and legal authority^ Within the bounds pre- 
fcribed by the conftitution, that authority is neceflary 
to tfie well-being of the peoples beyond that line, ev- 
ery exertion of power is arbitrary, is illegal j it threat- 
ens tyranny to the people, and de{lru£tion to the State. 
^ower without right is the moft odious and deteftable 
objeft that can be offered to the human imagination : 
It is not only pernicious to thofe who are fubje^ to it, 
but tends to it$ own deftru^on* 



Dwight's GoNQUEsir 6f Canaan. 

[ID thefe dire fcenes more awful fccnes fliall rife •; 

Sad nations quake, and trembling feize the ikies. 

^om the dark tomb fliall fearful lights afcend, 

^And fulten founds the fleeping manliion rend ; 
Pale ghofts with terror break the dreamer's charnl> 
And death-like cries the liftening world alarm. 
Then midnight pangs fliall tofs the cleaving plains \ 
Fell famine wanton o'et* unburied tt^ains ; 
From crumbling mountains baleful flames afpirc ; 
Realms flnk in floods, and towns diflfolve in fire ; 
In every blaft, the fpotted plague be driven. 
And angry meteor^ blaze athwart the heaven. 
Clouds of dark blood fliall blot the fun's broad light, 
Spread round th'immenfe,andfliroud the world intiightj 
With psdeand dreadful ray^the cold moon gleam 5 
The dim, loneflars difltiiean anguifli'd beam 5 
Storms rock the flcies \ ^tM&cd oceahs roar, 
And fanguine billows dye the fliuddering fliofc 5 
And round earth thunder, frorti the Alnlighty throne, 
The voice irrevocable, IT IS DONE. ♦ ^ 

Rous'd on the fearful mom, fliall natfuf e he;^ 
The trump's deep terrors rend the troubled air 5 
From realm to' fealrh the' found tremendous roll 5 
Cleave the bfoad main, and fliake th' aftonifli'd pole ; 
The flumbering bones th' archangel's call infpirc ; . ^ 
Rocks fink in duft, and earth be wrapp'd in Ate •, 
From realms far diftant, orbs unnumbcr'd come, 
Sail through immenfity, and learn their doom : 
And all yon changelefs ftars, that, thron'd on high, 
■'Jnl^n in immortal luftre round the iky, 
j^pjj^^emn filence fliroud their living light, 
whicH^^^ the world to undiftinguifh'd night. 

^^ij.*«^ what dread founds defcending from the pole, 
Wave following wave, in fwelling thunders roll j 


How the tombs cleave ! What awful forms aniel 
What crowding nations pain the failing eyes 1 
From lapd to land behold the mountains rend ; 
From fhore to fhore the final .flames afcend 5 
Round the dark poles with boundlefs terror reign, 
"With bend immeafurablefweep the main ; 
From morn's far kingdoms ftretch to realms of even. 
And climb and climb with folemn roar to heaven. 
What fmoky. ruins ^rap the leflening ground ! 
What^fiery fheets fail through the vaulted round ! 
Pour'd in one maf?, the lands and feas decay.; 
Involvy> the heavens, diffolving, fleet away.; 
The moon departs ; the fun's laft beams expire. 
And ^atur5:*s^buried^in thebcaindlefs lire, 

Lp, from the radiance of the blefs'd abode 
Mefliah comes, in all the pomp of God ! : 
Borne pn, fwift winds, a ftorm before him flies 5 
Stars crown his head, and rainbows round him. rife 5 
Beneath his feet a fun's broad terrors burn, 
And .cleaving darknefs opes a dreadful morn,: . 
Through boundlefs fpace care.ering flames are driven ; 
Truth's facred -hofls .defcend, and aM the thrones of 

See crowding miHiCn$, cjaffd from earth's far^nds, 
See hell's dark world, with fearfal gloom, afcends, 
In throngs. kicomprehei>fible! Around, 
Worlds after world?, from nature's farthe ft bound, 
Call'd by th' archangel's voice, from either pole, 
Self mov'd, with all created nations, roll. 
From this great train, his eyes the juft divide 
Price of his life, and being's faireft pride ; 
Rob'd by his mighty h^nd, the flarry throngs 
From harps of tranfportcall ecftatic fongs. 
* Hail, heirs of endlefs peace ! ordain'd to rove 
Round the pure climes of^verlafting love. ^p ^' 

For you the fun firft led the lucid morn ; 
The world was fafhion'd and Mefliah born ; 
For you high heaven with fond impatience 

ursher fair ftrcams, and opes her golden ,g*'ites^ 


Each kour, with piif er glory, gaily fhines,. 
Her courts enlarges, and her air refinesv- 

But O unhappy jace \ to woes confign'di 
Lur'd by fond plearure, and to wifdom blind, 
What new Meffiah Ihall the fpirit fave, 
Stay the pent flames, and ihiit th' eternal grave i 
Where fleeps the mulic of his voice divine ? 
Where hides the face, that could fo fweetly Qiine ? 
Now hear that flighted voice to thunder turn ! 
See that mild face with flames of vengeance burn ! 
High o'er your heads the florm of rum roars, 
And, round th' immenfe, no friend your fate deplore?. 

Lo, there to endlefs woe in throngs are driven, ' 
What once were angels, and bright ftars of heaven ! 
The world's gay pride ! the king with fplcndorcrown'd! 
The chief reliftlefs, and the fage renown'd ! 
Down, down, the millions fink ; where yon broad niam 
Heaves her dark waves, and fpreads the feats of pain ; 
Where long, black clouds, emblaz'd with awful fire. 
Pour fullen round their heads, arid in dread gloom retire. 

O^ THE .Works of Creation and Prov- 

WHEN I contemplate thofe ample and magnifi- 
cent fl:ru6i:ures, eredted over all the etherejil 
plains : when I look upon them as fo many repofito- 
ries oi light, or fruitful abodes of life : ^^;hen I remem- 
ber that there may be other orbs, vafily more renwtc 
than thofe which appear to our unaided fight ; orbs, 
whofe effulgence, though travelling ever fince the cre- 
ationj is not yet arrived upon our coafts : when I ftretch 
my thoughts to the innumerable orders of being, whic|i 
inhabit all thofe fpacious fyftems 5 from the loftieft fer- 
aph, t<^ the loweft reptile 5 from the armies of angels 
which furround the Almighty's throne, to the ptmy na- 
tions, which tinge with purple the furface of the plum, 
or mantle the /landing pool wifh green ; how vsurioiis 


appear the links of this iiBmeafurable chain I how vaft 
the gradations in this unlverfal fcale of cxiftence! Yet 
all theft, though ever fo vaft and various, are the work 
of the Creator's hand, and arc fuU'of his prefence. 

He rounded in his palm tkofe ftupendous globes, 
which are pendulous in the vault of Heaven. He kin- 
dled thofe aftonifhing bright fires, which fill the firma- 
ment with a Hood of glory. By Him they are fufpend- 
ed in fluid ether, and cannot be fliaken : by Him they 
difpenfe a perpetual tide of beams, and are never ex- 
haufted. He formed, with inexpreflable nicety, thai 
delicately fine colleftion of tubes ; that unknown mul^ 
tiplicity of fubtle fprings, which organic and aftuate 
"The frame of the minuteft^ infeft. 

He bids the crimfon current roll ; the vital move* 
mcnts play ; and afibciates a world of wonders, even in 
an animated point. In all thefe is a fignal exhibition 
of creating power : to all thefe ar« extended the fpecial 
regards of prefcrving goodnefs. From hence let me 
l«rn to rely on the providence, and to revere the preC- 
CBc«, of Supr«mc Ma}efty. Amidft that inconceivable 
hJimber and variety of beings, which fwarm through 
the regions of creation, not one is overlooked, not one 
is iiegteflBd, by th» groett Omnipotent Gaufe of alL 

Speiow OB Mr. Fox, w the British Par- 
tUAUsurv, 0$ Amerasam Affairs, 1778. - 

YOU have now two wars before you, of which yon 
muft chopfc one, for both you cannot fupport. 
The war againft America has hitherto been carried on 
igainft her alone, unaffiftcd by any ally whatever. Not- 
withftanding fhe flood alone^ you have been obliged 
uniformly to incrcafe your exertions, and to puQi your 
efforts to the extent of your power, without being able 
to bring it to an iflue. You have exerted all your force 
hitherto without efFeA, and you cannot now divide a 
force, found already inadeqaate to its obj^A* 


My opinion is for withdrawing your forces from 
Ataerica entirely ; for a defenfive war you can never 
think of there. A defenfive war would ruki this nation 
at any time ; and in any circumftances, offerifive war 
is pointed out as proper for this country j ourfituation 
points it out ; and the fpirit of the nation impels us to 
attack rather than defend. Attack France, then, for 
Ihe is your objeft. The nature of the wars is quite dif- 
ferent : the war againft America is again ft your own 
countrymen ; you have flopped me from faying againft 
your fellow- fubje^ls ; thai: againft France is againft your 
inveterate enemy and rival. Every blow you ilrike in 
America is againft yourfelvcs ; it is againft all idea of 
reconciliation, and againft your own intereft, though 
' you fliould be able, as you never wilt be, to force them 
to fubmit. Every ftrbke againft France is of advantage 
to you : America muft be conquered in France ; France 
never can be conquered in America. 

The war of the Americans is a war of paffion 5 it is df 
fuch a nature a^ to be fupported by the moft powerful 
virtues, loveof liberty and of their country 5 and, at the 
' fame time, bythofe paflions in the human heart which 
give courage, ftrength, and perfeVerance to man ; the 
ipirit of revenge for the injuries you have done them ; 
ef retaliation for the hardihips - you have inflided on 
them 5 and of oppoiition to the unjuft powers you have 
exercifed oyer them. Every thing combines to aftimate 
them to this war, and fuch a war is without an end j for 
whatever obftinacy enthufi.>fm ever infpired man with, 
" you will now find in America. No ntatter what gives 
birth to thatenthuftafm ; whether the name of religioa 
or of libertyi the eJffccts are the fame ; it infpires a fpirit 
which is unconquerable, and folicitous to undergo dif- 
ficulty, danger and hardfhip : and as long as there h ^ 
man in America, a being formed fuch as we are, yoU' 
will have him prefcnt himfelf againft you in the field. 
The war of France is a war of anotherfort ; the war 
of France is a war of intereft 5 it was her intereft which 
firft induced her to engage in it, and it is by tfctt fnte? 


eft that ihe will meafuve its cominoance^ . TumyMr 
face at once againft her} attack her wherever fee is 
expofed 5 crufh her cojnmerce wherever yon can J make 
her feel heavy and immediate diftrcfs throughout the 
aation : the people will foon cry out to their govern^ 
ment. Whilft the advanta^^es fhe promifes herfetf arc 
remote and uncertain, inflift prefent evils and diftrefles 
upon her fubjefts : the people will become difcontented 
and clamorous; fhe will find it a bad bargain, having 
entered into this bufinefs ; ^nd you will force her to 
iefert any ally that brings fo much trouble and diftrcfs 
upon her. 

What is become of the ancient fpirit of this nation ? 
Where is the national fpirit that ever did honor to this 
country? Have the prefent miniftry fpent that tO(^ 
with almoft the laft (hilling of your money ? Afe they 
Act afhamed of the temporizing conduft they have ufed 
towards France ? H^^r corrcfpondence with America 
has been clandeftine. Compare that with their cpnduft 
towards Holland, fome time ago •, but i;t is the charac- 
tcriftic of little minds to be exaft in little things, whilft 
they fhrink from their rights in great ones. 

The conduft of France is called clandeftine : look 
tack but a year ago to a letter from one of your Sec- 
retaries of State to Holland; <«it is with furprilc and 
hidignation" your conduft is feen, in fomething done ' 
by a petty governor of an ifland, while they affeft to. 
cell the meiifures of France clandeftine. This is the 
way that minifters fupport the charafter of the nation, 
and the national honor and glory. But look again how 
that fame Holland is fpoken of to-day. Even in youp 
correfpondence with her your littlenefs appears. 

From this you may judge of your fituation ; from 
this you may know what a ftate you are reduced to. 
How will the French party in Holland exult ov«r you, 
and grow ftrong ! She will never continue your ally, 
when you meanly crouch to France, and do not dare 
o ftir in your defence ! But it is nothing extraordinary' 

at file Ihould not, while jou keep the minifters yOu 


have. No4>ower in Europe is blind; there is none 
blind enough to ally itfelf with wcaknefs, and be- 
come partner in bankruptcy ; there is no one blind 
enough to ally themfelves to obftinacy, abfurdity, and 

The Conjurer, a Bialogue. 

Richard and Jack. 

cy , "VXTHAT a ftrange man this is, Richard ! 
jac . yy Did you ever fee a conjurer before ? 

Richard., There was one travelled this 'way before 
your remembrance j but he milled his figure very mucb» 
I was to have been an ofiicer before this time> accord- 
ing to his prediAions ; and you,. Jack, were to have 
had a fine rich young lady for your iS.(i;er-in*law. But 
he was only an apprentice in the art ^ no more than 
A, B, C, to tliis man. 

Jack. Aye, he is mafter of his trade, I warrant 
you. I dare fay, when father comes home, he can tell 
him which way the thief has gone with our old Trot. 
Uncle Blufter is coming over here this evening to find 
out who has got his watch. The conjurer is juft 
gone out to look at the flars. I fuppofe, after he has 
viewed them awhile, he will caft a figure in his great 
black-art book in the other room, and tell in a trice 
what things are ftolen, and where they are, to a hair's 

Rich. He muft have a hawk's eye to fee the ftars 
this evening. Why don't you know. Jack, it is cloudy 
out a'dpors ? 

Jack. That's nothing with him. He could look 
through the clouds with his glafs, if it was as dark as 
Egypt, as eafy as you can look into the other room ; 
or, if he had a mind, he could brufh away the clouds 
in a trice, with that long wand he carries in his hand. 

Rich. No doubt he is a great almanac maker. I'll 
be hound he could forctel the weather to a tittle for a 


ihou(and years to come. I wifli I knew the tenth part 
9fi much about the placets as he does. 

Jfaci. So do I. Don't you think our neighbours^, 
could hire him to keep our ichool, inftead of MaAer ^ 
Think well ? I believe he has fifty times asmuchl^arn- 
ing» Aunt Betty told me this afternoon, that he knew 
every ftar in the Iky as well as I do the cattle in our 
fiable ; and that he was as well acquainted with every 
crook and turn in the milky way, as I am with the 
road to mill. They fay he rode round to all the plan- 
ets one nighti id a chaife made of moonlight, drawn by 
flying horfes. 

Conjurer. [Ifithouty in a grum hollow- voice, "^ Hoc 
soxe conventio planetorum tenetur eft in domus Jo- 

Rich. Hark ! he is going bv the window : don't 
you hear him talking to himfelt ? 

Jack. What a Itrange language he ufes ! ' He is 
talking to the man in the moon, I dare .fay. He will 
go into the back room and caft a figure now : I will 
look through the key- hole and fee him. lExit jacL 

Rich. [So/wx] What a prodigious learned man this 
conjurer muft be ! I fhould fuppofe he had read all the 
books in the world, and converfed with fpirits a hun- 
dred years, to know as much as he does. 
Enter Fh inkwell. 

I am glad to fee you, Mafter Thinkwell. Have yon 
heard the rare news of th^ conjurer that is come to 
town ? 

Thinkwell, Tes $ and I am informed he has taken 
up lodgings at your houfe to-night. You are greatly 
honored to be fure. 

Rich. He is a very extraordinary man, Til aflurc you. 

Think. So far I agree with you, Richard, i believe 
he is an extraordinary man, and an extraordinary im- 
poftor too. 

Rich. You are always on the fide of contraries. Mas- 
ter i'hinkwell j but every body is not of fo ftubborn 

ith as you. Why, there is as great a ftir in town as 


there was when Prince Edward went through it. All 
the ladies are as much in the fidgets to fee thedm- 
jurer, as they were to fee him. 

Thktk. It is much eafier to account for thefe things 
than to juftify. them. We fhall always aft beneath our- 
feWes, while we look up to worthlcfs wretches as our 
Ibperiors. Prince Edward was certainly no more than 
a man. This conjurer, in my opinion, is much left : I 
confider him beneath contempt. I am as great a 
friend to mirth as yourfelf ; but it is really mortifying 
that my friends fhould be fo anxious to make them- 
fclves the objedte of ridicule. 

Slcb. This is your old ftrain, Matter ThinfcwclL 
I know you are apt to get round me in your arguments ; 
but I believe the conjurer knows much more than both 
of us. I might go to you to learn griimmar, arithmetic, 
and the common .branches that are taught at fcliool ; 
but 1 (hall go ^o him to have my fortune told. ^ 

Think, Have patience 5 and rime, the only true 
fortune-teller, will difclofe the future, without any pay, 
faft enough for your happinefs or profit. Let me ad- 
vife you to lay out your money for more valuable com- 
modities than fuch grofs impofition. Believe me, Rich- 
ard, this man was never admitted into the cabinet of 
futurity any more than you or I, and knows no more 
of the events of to-morrowj^ next day, or next year, 
than the orang-outang. 

Rick. All our neighbours think very differently^ 
He has told Mrs. Primble where flie may find her fil- 
ver fpoon 5 ano^ Sam Hodkins, the very day he is to be 
, married ; and the very firft moment he eaft his eyes on 
Bill Blunder's face, he iaw the fear on his foot, and 
told him he had been wounded with an ^xe. 
. Think. Depend on it, Richard, it is all gra& impo- 
fition. What careiefs lad is there, who ufes an axe, 
that has not a fear on his feet ? 

Rich. If a man of common learning can foretei what 
is^'paft, I don't fee, for my part, why a cwyurcr mij 


not foretcl what is to come. [Knocking at the ifcr.} 
Ah ! Aunt Betty Wrinkle, I know by her rap. 
Enter Betty Wrinkle. 

Betty. How do yoU do, Richard ? A word with 
you, if yvOti f ! -afe, coufin, \T& Richard, They go to 
the other fide of the room.^ Is the foriune-tciler at your 
houfe, Richard ? 

Rich. He is cafbing a figure in the back room. 

Bet/y. Can I fee him i I wifli to aik him a few 
^ucfti.^ns in private. 

£nter Airs, Credulous ^wrf Jack, in hajic, 

Mrs, Credulous. Law, fifter Betty ! I am glad to fee 
you ! I am half frighted out of my fenfes I 

Betty, What is the matter, fifter ? 

Mrs. Cred, 1 have been looking through the key* 
hole to fee the conjurer. I believe there is a fpell of 
enchantment upon him ! the room will be full of fpir- 
ri? in five minutes ! , 

Betty. O) don't be frighted, fifter ! if he can conjure 
•them up, he can conjure them down again. He won't 
let them hurt you. I fhouldn't be afraid to go right 
into the room among them, not I. 

Rich. If they were to come in the fhape of w idow- 
ers or old bachelors, perhaps you would not, 

Betty, Law, how you joke, coufin. ^Cuffing his ears, 

Mrs. Cred. This is no jefting matter, I aflurc you. 
I could fee plainly the candle burnt blue ; there was 
a circle of fire round his head, and it began to fmoke 
out of his mouth and nofe. 

Betty, Poh ! nothing more than his breath, I dare fay* 

Jack. And I thought I faw the fhadow of a fpirit. 
The cat faw it too j for (he looked as wild as though 
die would fly out of the window. 

Betty. Well, you won't frighten me. I am determin- 
ed to fee him, if he breathes nothing but fire and fmoke. 

Conj. {Speaking loud in the other room."} Horum quo- 
rum fpiritorum, veniunto ! 

Mrs. Cred. Law me ! the very ghofts 3r4 com'Ss 
now ! he is talking to them# 


Beity. Elizabeth Wrinkle, at your fcrvice, Sir.* 
Gofij. [Writing her name in his hook.'} Do you re- 
colledt whether the day that Burgpyae was captured 
was clear or cloudy ? 

Btttp : Vhzi vva^ quite before my remembrance, Sir. 
^Looking inf glafj,"] I mm j^e nobody could take mc 
for more than twenty-five. K;/., t^Jide, 

Conj, I am not to be dect^^(?^$^$A^<'i^< • 

X^Lo&iing out nt the ivindotu through lit giafs. 
Jack iTo Richard,} Hark ! we (hall kridV^ her 
age now. He looks clear through time, with thatglals, 
as eafy as you can look through a key- hole. 

£etty. Good Sir, don't expofe me ! pray fpeak low. 
Conj. Young men, withdraw, and fhut that door. 

£Richard and Jack leave the room. 
I told you I was not to be deceived. You were bora 
Anno Domini, one thoufand, feven {lu'^^red and— • 
y . Bet^y, Law me ! how fhould he know I was born 
in fifty* five ? The treacherous (lars mufi: have betray- 
ed me ; not my looks, I am iure. [Afide, 
Conj, I tell you furthermore, the very man, whom 
the fates had fingled out for your hufband, by t&e fatal 
deftiny of the ftars, was flain at the takmg of Burgoync, 
Betty. Dear me ! O cruel ftars, and more cruel 
Britons ! how many hufbands and wives have ye fepa* 
rated I Were It not for you, I Ihould have been mar- 
ried twenty years ago. But fince the fates have been 
fo very cruel, don't you think they will be fo kind as 

to provide me you know what I mean, Mr. Coni 


Conj. Another hufband. I will inquire. 

[^Moving his wand round die circle: 
Enter Mr. Credulous and Bluster. 
Betty. Law, brother, you have come in the vcigr 
nick of time. I was juft ^oing to aik the Conjurcf 
about your horfe.' 

Conj. By the myfterions numbers of this circle, and 
the hidden virtue of this waod^ I perceive J<^ b«te 
loft a horfe. 


Cred. You have caft your figure right. My poor 
Trot has been gone -ever fince the twentieth day of 

C^j, \^Movittg his wand over the circle ^ and touchit^ 
partidtdar charaBersJl Aries, Tarus, Gemini, Cancer 5 " 
that is it precifely. You are under a liftle miftakc. 
Sir ; it was on the twentieth night of June. 

Blufter. You are right, you arc right. Miller Con- 
jurer. The fame night I had ray watch ftolen, 

Conj. Aries, March ; Taurus, April \ Gemini, May 5 
.<itncer, June* On the night of June twentieth, pre- 
oiiely at twenty-three tmnutes pad twelve, the horfe 
was flolen from your paftnre, by a thief. 

Btuft. There, brother Credulous, you have it as 
'/eza6t as the multiplication table. 

Cred. Strange what learning will do ! {Giving m 
pieet iff^mmey to the Conjurer,'] Now, Sir, be fo good as 
tX) tell me where the horfe is, and how I (hall find the 
very thief. ^Rafcal! I fliall have you now. 

iTo him/elf. 
i^ofij. {Making cbaraBers in his lookJ] The ftars 
are inaufpicious at prefent. Mercury, the patron of 
thieves, bears rule to-night. I (hall be able to deteft 
kim to-morrow. Hah ! tlut is a lucky figure. Quod 
erat demonib*andum. I. have got a clue to the watch 
in fpite of Mercury. 

Bluft. Put me in a way of finding it, and you (hall 
be well paid. We muft. fecure our houfes, brother 
Credulous, or this rogue of a Mercury will have our 
very beds from under us, before morning. 

Conj, It ( forth coming immediately. {Figur-' 
ing in his hook,] One hundred and twenty- (even rods 
north-eafterly from this table, in Chinefe meafure, lies 
a hollow tree; in that tree lies your watch^ 

Jifiter LoNGSTAFF, aa Officer, two Witnesses, and 

Betty, Bids me ! half the t*wn willhc here : it is 
'tiiiie for g0. [JTx/?. 


Slujl. Mr; Longftaffi be fo good as not to interrupt 
the Conjurer. He has juft told me where my watch is, 
and will detcft the thief with a few figures more. 

Longstaff, My duty obliges roe to interrupt him. 
We have your watch, and are come to fccure the thief. 
^othe Cprtjurer,'] You* have run at large, and defraudJ- 
dd the honeft and ignorant long enough,- By virtue i>f 
fliis warrant, you are the ftate's prifoner. 

Coni. What trick (hall I try now ! I atndcteftedat' 

laft. ^. -•' ^^^'• 

Cred, You muft pe raTfinformed, Mr* Longttaff- 
This man is fo far from being a. thief, -thtt he is A 
greater torment to them than their own confciences. 

Long, Hear the evidence of thefe gentlemen, ar^d 
you miay alter ytflfcr mind. 

I/? Wiincfi. I fuppofe this be yours, M^. 

Blti/l. It is the very fame 5 the chain only is changed. 

\Jl Wit, 1 happened to overhear him talking witlx 
one of his gang laft evening. This watch, with a num- 
ber of other articles*, was to bs hidden in a holloa tree. 
This impoftor, to maintain the credit of a ConjurA", was 
fo inform the owners, on inq^^iry, where they were, 
upon their paying him for the impofition. I have been 
fo fortunate as to fecure one of the partners in this 
trade. Arid as I heard thrs gentleman, lor^hom you 
have to much regard, had taken up lodgings at your 
houfe, I did not chocfc to interrupt you till there was 
full proof of his guilt. The ftolen goods, which he 
defcribed, and we have found, are fufficient evidence' 
againft him. 

Cred. Villain! a halter is too good for yourneck* 
May I be taught common fenfc by a monkey, if ever 1 
am duped again in fuch a manner. 

2d IFit. My evidence tends rather to impeach t3ie 
character of my townfmen than this worthlefs fellow's. 
All I can fay, is, that feveral months ago, he travelled 
this road in charaSer of a tinker ; and now all our 
young girls, old maids, and ignorant f*$Rows, are fitw- 


ping after this wife Conjurer to buy the hi&cry of l^r 
Bves, which) a little while iijaccj they were weak 
•Dough to give him for nothing. 

T^nk I hope the impoftor will be brooght to jaT- 
licc, and| we to. our fcnfes ; an4 that after paying thw' 
in£ituated devotion to vice and ignorance, Tirtue and 
true knowledge may have our moft Terious voseration. 

Long. Gentlemen) ai&It me to co&du^ him to ptj^ 



British Parliament^ Jan. ao, 1775. 

WHEN your lordfhips look at fte papers tranP. 
mitted to us from America ; when you con- 
- flder their decency, firmnefs, and wifdom, you cannot 
but refpeA their caufe, and wifli to ihak^ it your own* 
For myfelf, I muft declare nnd avow, that in all my 
oeading and obiervation, (and it has been my favourite 
ftudy: I have read Thucidydes,, and have ftudled and 
admired the mafter-ftates of the world :) I fay I muft 
declare, that, foi^folidity of reafoning, force of fagacity; 
and wifdom of conclufion, under fuch a complication 
of difficult circumftances, no nation, or body of men 
mn ftand in preference to the General Congrefs at 
Philadelphia. I truft it is obvious to your lordfhips^ 
that all attempts to impofe fervitude upon ftich men, to 
oftabliih defpotifm over fuch a mighty continental na^ 
tk>n, muft be vain, muft be fatal. 

We fhall be forced, ultimately, to retraA; let 'us 
rctrad while we carff not when we tnu/l. I fay we 
muft neceflarily undo thefe violent opprefBve adta. 
They MUST be repealed. You WILL repeal them. 
I pledge myfelf for it-, that you will in the end repeal 
them. I ftake my reputation on it. I will confent to 
!»e taken for an idiot, if they are not finally repealed. 

Avoid, then, this humiliating, difgraceful neceffity. 
With a dignity becoming your oxaltcd &uation^ fnake 


fbe.firft advances to concordi 'to peace and happincfr; 
for /k is your true dignity, to aft with prudence and 
juftice. That you fliould firft concede is obvious from 
found and xarional policy. Conceflion comes with bet- 
ter grace, and more felutary effefts from fuperior pow- 
€ti it reconciles foperiority of power with thefedings 
of men ; and eftabHflics folid confidence on the foun- 
dations of affection and gratitude. 

Evcry^ motive, therefore, of jufticc and of policy, pf 
dignity and of prudence, urges jqu to allay the fer- 
ment in America, by a removal of y®ur troops from 
Bofton : by a . repeal of your afts of Partemenj ; and 
by demonftrations of amicable difpofitions towards your 
colonies. On the other hand, every danger and every 
hazard impend, sto deter you from perfeverance in your 
prefcnt ruinous - meafiires. Foreign war hanging over 
your heads by a flight and brittle thread : :.France and 
Spain watching your conduct, and: waiting for the ma- 
turity of your errors 5 w with a vigilant eye to America, 
and the tamper of yotir colonics, more than to their 
own. concerns, be they what they may. 

l"o conclude, my lords j if the miniftcrs thus perfe- 
^cre in misadvifing and misleading the King, I will not 
fay, that they can alienate the affeaions of his fubjed? 
from. -his crown ; but I will afRrmi that they will make 
the crown not worth his wearing : I will not fay that 
the King is betrayed j but I will pronounce, that th« 
kingdom is undone. 

Speech of Galgachus to the Cajl£doniaj<t 
Army. , 

Countrymen, and Fellow-Soldiebls, 

WHEN I confider the cause, for which we have 
drawn our fwords,and the neceffiry of ftriking 
aneffeaual blow, before we (heath them'.again, 1 feel 
joyful hopes arising in my mind, that this day an open- 
ing will be made for the rcftoration of British liberty, 

1 «^^ 1?HE COLUMBIAN C^A^OIt. 

and for (baking ofFthe iiifadtous yoke of Rdman MssLt^fp 
Caledonia is yet free. Tiie sUi-|rrafping power of Rom^ 
has not yet been able to feize our liberty. But it is to 
be prefcrved only by valour. 

You are not to expeft to efcapc the ravage of the 
general planderers of nrankindi by any fentimen£ of 
juftice in them. When the countries which are mora 
acceffible have been fubducd, they will then force theiir 
way into thofe which are harder to be overcom«^ 
And if they Chould conquer the dryland over the 
whole world, they will then think of carrying their 
arms beyond the ocean, to fee whether there be not* 
certain unkowxi regions, which they may attack, and 
r:#duce under fubjeftion to the Roman empire. 

For we fee that if a country is thought to be power- 
ful in arms, the Romans attack it becaufe the conqueft 
will be glorious; if inconfidcrable in the military art, 
fctcaufe the viftory will be eafy ; if rich, they arc 
drawn thither by the hope of plunder 5 if poor, by 
the defirc of fame. 

The eaflr, and the weft, the foiith and the north, the 
face of the whole earth is the (bene of their military 
achievements* The world is too little for their amhi* 
tJon, and their avarice. Their fupremcjoy feemsto be 
ravaging, fighting, and flieiding of bloody and when 
they have unpeopled a region, fo that there are none 
left alive to bear arms, they fay they have given peace 
tb that country. 

Our didance from the feat of government, and our 
natural defence by the furrounding ocean, render us 
obnoxious to their fufpicions : for they know that 
Britons are born whh an inftinflive love of liberty j 
dnd they conclude that we mud Naturally be led to 
think of taking the advantage of our detached fituation^ 
to difengage ourfelves, one time or another, from theis 

Thus, my countrymen and fellow-foldiers, fufpeAed 
and hated as we ever muft be by the Romans, there is 
•\o profpeft of otrr erjoying even a tdcrabie ftate ef 


Jipocbgc undef them* Let us, theny inthe catne ef 
all that is faicf<;d| and in <tefeace of all that is dear to 
us, refcWe to exert ourfelves^ if not for glory, at leaft 
for fafety j if not in vindication of Britifh honor, at 
Ifeaft in defence of our live^P 

But, after ^all, who .arc thefe nvighty Rotnaps ? Aire 
Chejr.g0ds» or mortal, men, like oiirfelves? D^ we 
not fee that they h\\ into the iame errors and weak- 
BeiSbs, as others ? Does not peace effeminate them I 
Does not abundance debauch them ? Does not wat^ 
tonnefs enervj^tc them ? Do they not even go to ex- 
cels in the moft unmanly vices i and can you imagine 
that they who are remarkable for their vices are like- 
wife remarkable for their valour? What then do we 
dread ? Shall I tell you the truth, my fellow-foldiers i 
It is by means of our intefVine diviiions, that the Ro- 
mans have gained fueh great advantage over us. They 
turn the mifcondiuft of their enemies to their dwiot 
praife. They boafk of what they have done, and fay 
nothing of what we might have done, had we been fy. 
wife, as to unite againft them. 

What is this formidable Roman army? Is it ntit 
compofed of a mixture of people from different coun« 
tries ; fome more,, fomeleik. capable of bearing fatigue 
and hardihip? They keep together while they are 
fuccefsful. Attack them with vigour : difbrefs them*: 
you wili fee them more difunited than we are now. 
Can any one imagine^ that Gauls^ Germans, and with 
ihame I muft add, Britons, who bafely lend their limbs 
and lives> to build up a foreign tyranny i can one im» 
;^ine that thefe will be longer enemies than fiavesS 
or that fuch an army is held together by fentiments ' 
of fidelity or affeAion ? No : the only bond of union 
among them is fear. And whenever terror ceafes to 
work upon the minds of that mixed multitude, they 
who now fear, will then hate their tyrannical mafters^ 

On our fide there isevery poffibleincitement to valoQt* 

The Roman courage is not^ as ours, isflamed by the 

tbotights of wires and children in danger of falling tir- 


to the hands of the enemy. The Romans have aot 
parents, as we have, to reproach them if they fhoultl^ 
dtfert their infirm old age. They have no country 
hcr« to fight for* They ar^ a motley colledlion of 
foreigners,^ in a land wholly unknown, tq tUeoi* cut 
oflf from their native country •, hemmed in by the fiir- 
rounding ocean 5 and givea,,! hope, a prey int45 our. 
hands, without any poffibility of efcape* Let not the 
found of the Roman name affright your ears, nor let 
the glare of gold or filver, upon, their armour, dazzle 
your eyes. It is not by gold or 6iver,.that men arc 
either wounded or defended ; though they are re»» 
dered a richer prey. to the conquerors*/ Let us boldly 
attack this difunited rabble, ., Wc fhall find ait^(^ 
thcrpfclves a reinforcement to our army. 

And what will there be then to fear i A few. half 
garrifoned forts ; a few municipal towns inhabited by 
worn-out old men v difcord. univcrfaUy prevailing, oc- 
oafioned by tyranny i|i thofe who command, and ob^ 
fiinacy in thofe who ihpcrld obey* On our HdCf an 
army united in the caufe of their. country, their wives, 
their children, their aged parents, their lives. At the 
head of this army, I hop^ Ido not offend againft modefty 
in faying, there is a General ready to exert all his abil- 
ities, fuch as they are, and to haaard his Itf^in leading 
you to viftory and to freedom!. 

I conclude, my countrymen and fellow-foldiers, 
with putting you in mind, that on your- behaviour this 
day depends your future enjoyment of peace and lib* 
erty, or your fubje£lion to a tyrannical enemy, with 
all its grievous confequenccs. When, therefore, you 
come to engage, think of your ^ncefbrs, and think bf 
your poftcrity* 


Modern Education. 


ANi)i Parent of an offered Pupil. 

JPreceptdrl T AM heartily fick of this modem tno^e 
^Soius,^ Jt ^^ education. Nothing biit trafh wiTl 
i\At the tafte of jpeople at this day. I am perplexed be- " 
yond all endurance with thefe frequent folicitations of* 
parents, to give their children graceful airs, polite at- 
complifhments and a fmattering of what they call the 
£ikt arts ; while nothing is faid about teaching tbenn 
the fubftantial branches of literature. ' If they can but 
dance a little, fiddle a little, fliue a little, and make a 
handfome bow and courtefy, that is fuiHcient to make 
them famous, in this enlightened age. Three- fourths of 
the teachers of thofe arts, which once were eftcemed 
moft valuable, will foon be out of amployment, at this 
»ate. . For my part, I am convinced, that, if I had beea 
a dancing mafter, muiic mafler, ftage player, or moun^ 
tebank, I fhotild have been muc^^ mQre rjefpededi ^J^ 
much better fupported, than I am at pref^nt. 
Enter Pa^est^ 

Parent, Your bumble^ fervant, Sir j are yx>ti the 
principal of this Academy ? 

Precep. I amj at your fervice, Sir. 

Par. I have heard much of the fame of your m- 
ftitution, and am deiirous of putting a fon, of about 
twelve years of age, iipder your tuition* I fuppofe you 
have maflers wha teach the various branches of the po^ 
lite arts. 

Precep, We arc not inattentive to thofe arts, Sir 5 
but the fame of our academy does npt reft upon them, 
Ufeful learning is our grand objeift. What ftudies do 
you wifh to put your fon upon ? 

Par^ I wifh him to be perfected in muiic, dancing, 
drawing, &c. and as he pofTtffles apromifing genius fpr 
poetryi I would by all means hs^ve that celuvate^^ 


Precep* Thcfc arc not all the branches, I truft, m 
which hc^ is to be inftrufted. You mention ftothing of 
ceadingj writing, arithmetic, language, &c. Arc thefe 
to be wholly neglefted ? 

Par. Why, as to thefe iveijday branches, 1 cannot 
fay I feel very an!rious about them. The boy reads 
well now ; writes a decent hand ; is acquainted witii 
the ground rules of arithmetic, and pronounces the 
SngUfli language genteelly. H^e has been a long time 
under the care of Mr. Honeftus, our town fchoolmaf-^ 
ter, who has taught him all thefe things fufEciently. 
So that I think any more time deveted to them would 
ht wafted. 

Precep. If he is fuch an adept that there is no room 
for his progreffing in thofe arts ; yet F think, at leaft, 
there is need of praftice, left, at his age, he fliould foir«- 
get what he has learned. 

Par. That I fhall leave to your difcrctioh. Futr 
there is one branch, of great importance, which I liavt 
not yet mentioned, and to which I would have partic- 
ular attention paid j I mean the art of fpeaking. YoCt 
will find him not deficient in that refpeft ; though per- 
haps it requires as much praftice to -make one perfeft in 
that, as in any art whatever. He has already learned by 
heart a great number of pieces, and has afteda part in 
feveral comedies and tragedies with much applaufc. It 
has been the cuftom of our mafter to have an exhibi- 
tion at leaft once a quarter; and my fon has always 
been confidered as one of his beft performers. He 
lately took the part of Jemmy Jumps in the farce call- 
ed The Farmer, and afted'it to univerfal acceptation. 

Precep. . I muft confefs, Sir, that your account of 
your fon does not appear to me to be very flattering. 

Par. Why fo, pray ? have you not an car for el- 
oquence i 

Precep. Indeed I have. Sir. No man is more charm* 

ed than I am with its enrapturing founds. No mufic 

r.efts fweeter on my ear than the melodious notes, pro^* 

lading from the momh of a )udiciotr$, wcll-inftruftecf^ 


aod powerful prator. But! muft tell you plaWy, 
th^t.l am by no means pleafed to fee parents take Co 
onucb pains to transform tlicir children into monkeys 
inftcad of men. What figns of oratory d6^you ima- 
.gine you can difcern in a boy, rigged out in a fantafti- 
cal drefs, ikipping al)pat the ftage like a babboon, in tht 
charafter of Jemmy Jumps, Betty Jumpsj or any other 
jumper ? 

Pat:. Do you not approve of exhibitions then ? 

Precep, Not mueh, I confefs,, in the way they arc 
generally conduced. A maftcr, who has four in a 
year, muft neceflarily rob his pupils of one quarter of 
that time, which, in my opinion,, might be much bet- 
ter employed in attending to what would be ufef»l.fQ]r 
Chem in life. 

Par, Wba^t can be more iifcful for a child, undiir 
fuch a government as ours, than to be able to fpeak 
before an audience with a graceful eafe, and a manful 
dignity I My fon, for aught I know, may be a member 
of Congrcfs before he dies. 

Precep, For that very reafon I would educate him 
differently. I would lay the foundation of h« future 
fame on the firm bafis of ;the folid fnences ; that he 
^ight be able in time to do fomething more than a 
mere parrot, or an ape, who arc capable only of fpdak- 
ing the words, and mimicking the anions of others. 
He (hould firft be taught to r^ad. He flipuld likeWifc 
be taught to tompofe for himfelf ) and I t«ould not be 
wanting in miy endeavors to make him a fpeaker. 

Par. Surely, Mr. Preceptor, you muft be very 
wrong in your notions. I have ever purfbed a differ- 
ent plan with my children 5 and there are none in the 
country, though I fay it myfcif, who are more univer- 
fally careffed. I have a daughter that has feeo but 
fourteen years, who is capable of gracing the ppliceft 
circles. It is allowed that fhe can enter, and leave a 
room, with as much eafe and dignity as any ladv of 
quality whatever. And this is evidently owing alto-. 
i;etber to her polite education. I boarded her a jeaf 


ID the capital, where (he enjoy.ed eTery:. poffible adfan^ 
tege. She attended the moft accompliflied mafters in 
the ornamental branches of fcience ; vifited the gen- 
teelen: faitiilies, and frequented all thefcenes of amufe- 
ment. It is true, her letters are not always written 
quite fo accurately as could be wjQied ; yet me dances 
well, plays well on the piano-forte, and iings like a 

Precep, Does ihe know the art of making a good 
fiudding ? Can fhe darn a ftocking well ? or is flie ca- 
pable of patching the elbows of her hufband's coatj 
mould fhe ever be fo lucky as to get one ? If (he is to 
remain ignorant of all fuch domeftic employments, as 
much as i value her other accomplifhments, and as 
much as I might be in want of a wife, I would not 
Itarry her with twice her weight in gold. 

_Par, Her accompHfhments will command her a huf^ 
band as foon as (he wiilies. But (b long as a (ingle cent 
rf" my property remains, her delicate haads (Hall never 
be fo unworthily employed. 

Precep. But fuppofe a reverfe of fortune fhould 
overtake you, what is to become of the child \ as yoa 
Iky (he underftands nothing of domeftic affairs*? Will 
ft bfe more honorable^ do you imagine, for her to be 
marntatned by the cEirity of the people, than by her 
#wn indufVry ? ^ 

Par. There are many ways for her to be fupported. 
I would not have you think (he is wholly ignorant of 
the ufe of the needle, though (he never employed it in 
fo difgraceful a manner as that of darning ftockings ! 
or botching tattered garments ! But we will i-ravc that 
lUbjea and attend to the other. Will you receive the 
boy for the purpofes before mentioned ? 

Preeep. Why, indeed. Sir, I cannot. Though I 
am far from condemning jiltogether your favourite 
branches, yet 1 confider them all as fubordinate, and 
feme of them, at leaft, totally ufelefs. We devote btrt 
a fmall portion of our tim^ to the attainment of fuck 
.fitp^fioisd accompU£hment$# I wooid therefore recom-^ 


mend it to yO!3> to commit him to the care o( tho(e 
perfons^ who have been fo fuccefsful in the tnftru£)tion 
of his fiftcr. 

Par. I confefs I am fo far convinced of the propria 
ety of your method, that, if you will admit him into 
yonr Academy, I wUl renounce all right of dilating 
to you hi3 leflbns of inftruAion, except in one iingle 
inftance : and in that I am perfuaded we ihatl not dit- 
agrce ; I mean the art of fpeaking. . 

Ptecep. I (hall agree to that only under certain 
limitations. That is an art which undoubtedly demands 
our folieitou$ attention 5 but it ought never to be pur- 
fued to the injury of other ftudics. I am ftnfible that 
It is no lefs uieful to a pupil than entertaining to an 
audience, to exercife him occaiionaUy en the ftage iii 
declaiming judicious and well- written compofitions, and 
pronouncing Rich fele^led dialogues, as will tend to 
give gracefulnefs to his attitude, and familiarity to his 
tones and geil'ures. But, adp^itting that time could be 
fpared from more important purfuits, I fee but little 
good refulting from the exhibition of whole comedies 
and tragedies in our academies and fchools; white 
much evil is to be feared, both from the immorality of 
the plays, and the difHpationit introduces into fpciety* 
Betides, all boys are not calculated for orators ; and 
though Demodbenes furmpunted almoft infuperable 
difficulties in the acquirement of his art, it is folly to 
fuppofe that his eicample is capable of univerial imita* 
tlon. I cannot believe it a very pleating entert<unment 
to a difoerning audience, to fee a boy without talents^ 
mounted upon the roftrum, Routing forth fcntenccs 
yrhich he does not underftand, and which^ perhaps^ 
are chofen with as little judgment as they are dejiiver- 
ed with propriety. But what can be mor^ difgufting 
than to fee innocent, and timid females, whofe excel* 
lence, in part, contifts in their m^defty^ and tileiic«be«> 
fore fuperiors^ encouraged to reverfe the order of na^ 
ture, by playing the orator tm a public ftage ! Ami 
what often enhances our difguft, and ficlcw^ all ^r 


feelings, is, that their lips are taught to pronounce ftfi^ 
limeais, OLtraAed from the very dregs of the £uro« 
pcan drama, * 

' Par. Then it feems you do not approve of females 
flaking at alU 

Prefep. Not on a public ftage, unlefs I wiflied to 
fee them diveAed of half their charms. SuchjEnafcu- 
line employments as ill become them, as the labours of 
the field, or the habits of the ftronger fex. 1 .would 
' liave them (aught to read and pronounce well at fchool ; 
but nature never designed them for public orators«i 
much lefs, that they fhould be degraded to the vile pur- 
pofe of entertaining <he votaries, of theatrical amufe-* 

Par, -Why, you differ widely from many, whofe 
pride is to be confidcrcd as the ftandards of modern , 
tafte. It does not now offend agalnft the rules of deli- 
cacy, for the different fexes to make exchange of gar-* 
ments now and then, provided the grand objeft of 
amufement be promoted by it. I was In J3oflon lafl 
week, and. there I faw a beatifol young lady, rigged 
out trdm top to toe in nierfs apparel, aflride a gay 
horfe, parading through the ftreets, for the entertain- 
ment of the lames and^gentlemen of that polite metrop- 
olis. -And none appeared to be offended, except a few 
who had not attained a 'i^Ufh for refined pleafures. 

Precep. Xcs^ and I am told, that, at their theatres, it 
is no uncommon thingfor a woman to make her appear- 
ance in that apparej!, with a 4word by her fide, ftrut- 
ting acrofs the flage,and fwearlng oaths big enough to 
xhoke an Algerine pirate ; and yet it is {b agreeable to 
the modern ttm, that even ladies of diftingui£bed: refine* 
ment are a/bamed. to Uu/b at her I 

Par, Ypu have made me fb far a convert to your , 
fentiments on this Xubiedl, and given me fuch proofs of 
;your fuperior judgment in tl^e education of youth, that 
I am determined to commit iny fon, without any refer ve, 
to your care and inftruAion. Till youihear from mt 
again, I am, Sir, your obediem fcrvant. 


The Existence pF God, demonstrated 
FROM THE Works of Creation'; being i(^ Serw 
mon preached at providence, bt jonathan 
Maxcy, a, m. President of Rhode-Island Col*' 
LEGE> i7PS> FROM- Romans 1. 20. 

[N B. When found txf>edient, the folhw'mg Sermon may comanufUly he 
£vlded info three w four fctrts , faiiahle ffr deilamathitti T^he author oftbit 
W9ri did not inte'idat,jiijl to infart the ruAoIe ; hu^ in aUemfting to make m 
f^USHottf be could find no part wbicb be "Was ifttillng to leave] 

■^TO THING will more eflfeftually guard us againft 
r^ vice, tban a firm belief in the exifteilce of 6o4. 
For furcly if we realize that there is fuch a Being, we 
ihall naturally infer from hJs pcrfeftion^, fforatlie na-^ 
ture of his moral gbvecnmtnt, and from our iitaation' 
as rational creatures, that we are amenable at his awful 
tribunal. Superior power, wifdom, and goodnefs,. al- 
ways lay us under rcftraint, and command our veaera- 
tioa, Thefc, even in a mortal, overawe u«. Th«y rc-^ 
ftraih not only the a£Vions, but the words and thoughts 
of the moft vicious and abandoned. . Our happinefs de- 
pends on our virtue. Our virtue depends on the con- 
formity of our hearts and conduA to th,c lliws prcfcri* 
l^d us by our beneficent Creator. 

Of what vaft importance then is it to our prefenfas 

well as future felicity, to poflefs in our hearts a feeling 

fenfe, and in our underftandihg a clear convifUon, of 

the exiftcnce of that Being whoie power and goodnefs 

are unbounded, whofe prefence fills immenfity, and 

whofe wifdom, like a torrent of lightning, emsmaies 

through all the dark reoefies of eternal duration f How 

great muft be the efitft of a fenfe of the prefence of 

the great Creator and Governor of all things, to whom 

, belong the attributes, eternity, independency, pcrfcft 

. holinefs, inflexible juftice, and inviolable veracity; com^ 

, plete happihefs and glorious raajefty ; fuprcmc right 

"zxii, unbounded dominion ! « 


. A fenfe of accountability to God will retard' iHb 
^ger purfuji of vice; it will humble the heart of tbe 
^oud^ it will bridle the (ongue of the profane, and 
(hatch the knife from the hand of the afiaffin. A belief 
•f the exiftence of God is the true original foiirce of aR 
virtue, and the only four^dation of all religion, natural 
«r revealed. Set afide this great himinous truth, ei^fe 
the convifiion of it from the heart, you then place vir* 
tuc and vice on the fame level j you drive afflifted in» 
tiocence into defpair ; you add new effrontery to the 
marred vifage of guilt j you. plant thorns in the path, 
and ihed an impenetrable gloom over the profpc^ c^ 
the righteous. 

Sin has alienated the affe^Hons, and diverted the atr 
tention of men from the great Jehovah. •< Darknets 
has covered the earth, and grofs darknefs the people/' 
Men have worlhipped the works of their own haads^ 
and negleAed the true God, though his cxifience and 
perfeAion were damped in glaring chara^ers on all 
creation. From the reflulari-ty, order, beauty, and con- 
fervation of this great iyftem of things, of which man 
makes a part j from the uniform tendency of all its di- 
vjiions to their proper ends; the exiftence of God fhines 
as clearly as the fun in the heavens. « From the 
things that are made," fays the text, " are feeo hi* 
eternal power and Godhead/^ 

I. Man himfelf is a proof of God's exigence. L^t 
us place him before ys in his full itature. We are at 
once imprc^d with the heautifql organization of Ikis 
body, with the orderly and harmonious arrangement of 
his members. Such k the difpofition of thefe, that their 
motion is the moft eafy, graceful, and ufefiul, that cait 
be conceived. We are idloniihed to fee the fame fim- 
ple matter diverfified intoib many different fubftances, 
of different qualities, fize and figure. If we purfue 
«ur refearches thr ough the interpal economy, we fhall 
iind, that all the dif^rcnt oppofite parts correfpond to 
. each other with t he utmoft exaftnefs and order ; that 
tKey all anfwer the moft beneficent purpofe^. 


This wonderful machine, the human body, is ani- 
mated, chefiQied, and preferved^ by a fpifit within mi^ 
which pervades every particle, feels in every organ, 
warns us of injury, and adminifters to our pleafures. 
EreA in ftature, man differs from aH other animals. 
Though his foot is confined to the earth, jA his eye 
meafures the whole circuit of heaven, and inanindant 
takes in thoufands of worlds. His. countenance is turn- 
ed upwards, to teach us that he is not,like other animals,. • 
limited to the earth, but looks forward to brighter 
fcenes of exiftence in the fkies. 

Whence came this ereft, orderly, beautiful conftitu- 
tion of the human body ? Did it fpring' op from the 
earth, felffwmed ? , Surely not.. Earth itlelf is inac- 
tive matter. That which has no motion can never 
produce any. Man furely could not, as has been vain- 
ly and idly {uppx>red, have been formed by the for- 
tuitous concurrence ^f atoms. We behold the moft 
«xaft order in th«* conftitution of the human bouy. 
Order always involves defign. Defign always involves 
intelligence. That intelligence, which direfted the 
orderly formation of the human body, muft have redd- 
ed in a Being wbofe power was adequate to the pro* 
duftion of fuch an eflfeft. 

Creation furely is the prerogative of a felf-exiftent, 
uncaufed Being. Finite creatures may arrange aod 
difpofe^ but they cannot create v they cannot give life. 
It is a uriiverfal law through all nature, that like pro- 
duces like. The fame laws moft probably obtain through, 
the whole fyftem in which we are cqnnefted. We 
have therefore no reafon to fuppofe that angels created 
man. Neither can we, without the greateft abfiirdity, 
admits that he was formed by hiaifelf, or by mere ac- 
cident. If in the latter way, why do we never fee 
men formed fo in the prefent day r Why do we never 
fee the clods of earth brightening intp human flefli, 
and the duft under our feet crawling into animated 
forms^ and ftarting ^p into tfe and intelligence i 
R 2 


If we even admit that either of the forementlond 
jcaufes might have produced man, yet neither of them 
*€ould have prefervcd him in exiftcnce one moment. 
There muft therefore be a God ancaAfed/independeBt, 
^nd complete. The nobl«r part of man dearly evinces 
^is grear truth. When we coniider the boundlefs de- 
iRres and the inconceivable activity of the foul of ipao^ 
we can refer his origin to nothing but God. How a£- 
, toBiiking are the reafoning faculties of man ! How fur- 
prifing the power of comparing, arranging and con- 
i^efting his ideas.! How wonderfol is the power of ina- 
agination ! On its wings, in a momeiit, we can tranf- 
gort ourfelyes to the moft diftant part of the univerfe. 
We can fly backhand live the lives of all antiquity, or 
iurmount the limits of time, and fail along the vaft 
range of eternity. W^ience thefc aftonifliing power®, 
if not from a God of infinite wifdom, goodncfsj and 
power ? 

^. « *rhe invifible things of film from the creation 
of the world," fays the text, " are clearly feen. Let 
ws for , a moment behold our canh. With what a 
ielightful fcene'are we here prefeitted ! the diverfifi- 
oation of its furface into land and watir, iflands and 
lakes, fprings and rivers, hills and valleys, mountains 
•and plains, renders it to man doubly enchanting. We 
?re entertained with an agreeable variety, without be- 
ing difgufted by a tedious uniformity. Everything 
appears admirably formed for our profit and delight. 
There the valleys are clothed In fmiling ^een, and the 
]p]ains are bending with corn. Here is the gentle hill 
%o delight the eye, and beyond, flow rifing from the 
^rth, f wells the huge mountain, and, with all its load 
of waters, rocks, and woods, heaves itfelf up into the 
&ies. Why this pleafing, vaft deformity of nature ? 
Undoubtedly for the benefit of man. From the moun- 
teins defcend ftreams to fertilize the plains below, and 
cover them with wealth and beauty. 

The earth not only produces every thing ncceflafy 
to fgpport our bodies, but to remedy ou» difeafes, and 



gfati fj our feafes. . Who cor^rcd the earth with fuch 
a pleafing variety of fruits and flowers ? Who gave 
them their delightful fragrance, and painted them wIA 
fttch exquiiite colours ? Who caufes the fame water to 
whiten in the lily, that bluihes in the roie ? Do no) 
thefe things indicate a Caufe infinitely fuperior to any 
£nite being ? Do they not diredtly lead us to belleyq 
the'exiftencc of Qod^ to admire his goodnefs, to revere 
hkis power^ ta adore his wifdomj in lo happily accom« 
modating our external circumftances to our iituation 
and internal conftitution ? 

J. Bot how are we aftonifhed to behold the vaft 
ocean, rolling its immenfe burden of waters ! Who 
gave it fuch a configuratioa of particles as to render it 
moveable by the leaft prefiure,and at the fame time fo 
ftrong as to fupport the heavieft weights ? Who fpread 
out this vaft highway of all the nations under heav* 
en ? Who gave it its regular motion ? Who con.- 
lined it within its' bounds? A little more motion 
would difordcr the whole wodd ! A fmall incitement 
on the tide would drown whole kingdoms. Who re« 
(trains the proud waves, when the tcmpeft lifts them 
to the clouds ? Who meafured the gre^t waters, and 
fubjeded them to invariable laws ? That great Beings 
<« who placed the fand for the bound thereof, by a per- 
petual decree that it cannot pafs ; and though the 
waves thereof tois themfelves, yet can they hot prevail | 
though they roar ; yet can they not pafs over.** With 
reafon may we believe, that from the things that are 
made are clearly feen eternal power and wiiclom. 

4* Palling by the numerous produdions and appen^ 
dages of the earth, let us rife from it, and confider the 
body of air with which we are furroundcd. What a 
convincing proof do we here £nd of the exiftence of 
God ! Such is the fubtilty and tranfparency of th« 
air, that it receives the rays of the fiin and ftars, coik 
veying them with inconceivable velocity to objedte on 
the earth, tendering them viiible, and decorating the 


whole fvrhct of the ^ohe wklr an agioeeabte latav 
mixture of light, fhade, and <;(^urs. fiat ftiU this air 
0^ a fttfficient conilftencyand ftrengthtpfupport clqijidsy 
and all the winged inhabitants. Had it been lef^ fub- • 
tile, it would have intercepted the light* Had it been 
more rarefied, it would not have (lipported its tnhal>* 
itantSj nor have afforded fufficient moifture fpr the pur^ 
po{es of refpiration* What then but infinite wifdom 
eould have tempered the airTo nicelyt as to give itfuf-. 
ficient ftrength to fupport clouds fbr rain, to afford 
wind for healths and at the fitme time to poffefs the 

rwer of conveying found and light } How wonderful 
this element ! How clearly does It difcover injEnke 
wifdom, power, and goodnefs ! 

LBut when we caft our eyes up to the firmament 
ven, we clearly fee that it declares God's handjr 
work. Here the imoienfe t!ieatre of God's works opens^ 
upon us, and difclofes ten thouland magnificent, fplen- 
did objects. We dwindle to nothing in eomparifoa 
with this auguft feene of beauty, majefty, and glory. 
Who roared this vaft arch over our heads 2 Who- 
adorned it with fo many &ining obje£b, placed at fuch 
immenfe diftances from each other, regular in their 
motions, invariably obferving the laws to which they 
were originally fubje£led ? Who placed the fun at 
inch a convenient diftance as not to annoy, but refrefh 
us ? Who, for fo many ages, has catifed him to rife and 
let at fixed times ? Whofe hand direAs, and whofb 
power retrains him in his courfe, caufing him to .pro- 
duce the agreeable changes of day and night, as well as 
Ae variety of feafons i 

The order, harmony,and regularity in the revolutions 
of the heavenly bodies, are fuch incontcftible proofs of 
the exiftence of God, that an eminent poet well faid, 
** An undevottt aftronomer is mad.'' In the time of 
Gcero, when the knowledge of aftronomy was very im- 
perfef):, he did not hefitate ^o declare, that in his opin<* 
ion the man who afferted the heavenly bodies were not 
-Mned and moved by a divine underftanding, was him- 


fat vdd of all underftaftdiug. Well indeed is it faid, 
that the heavens declare the gtery of God. * ' ^ 

Thifc,great Being is every where prefcnt. He ex- " 
kb aK around us. He is not, as we are apt to imagme, 
at » great dlftanee. Wherever we turn^ his image, ' 
meets our view. We fee hira in the earth, in the 
ocean^ in the air, in the ftin, moon, and ftars. We 
feel him in ourfdves* He isalways working round usV 
he performs the greateft Operationis, produces the ho- 
bleft cflrefls, difcovefs hrmfelf in a thotifand difl&rent 
ways, and yet the real GOD remains unfcen. All 
parts of creation are e^iially under his infpeftion: 
Thoogh he warms the breaft of the higheft angel in 
heaven, yet he breathes life into the meaneft iofed Oft 
earth. He lives through all his work's, fappottiBg all 
by the word of his power. He (hines in the verdure 
that clothes the plains, in the lily that denghts the vale, 
and in the forcft that waves oti the mountain. He 
fupports the flendcr reed that trembles in the breeze^ 
arid the fturdy oak that (lefi«s the tempeft. His pref- 
ence cheers the iriani mate creation. 

Far in the wildernefs, where human eye never faw, 
where the favage foot never trod, there he bids the 
bk>omtng foreit fmile, and the blufhing roft opens its 
leaves to the morning fun. There he caufes the feath- 
ered inhabitants to whiffle their wild notes to the Uft- 
cning trees and echoing mountains. There nature 
lives in all^ her wanton wildnefi. There the ravifhed 
eye,* hurrying from fcene to fcehe, is loft in one vafl: 
blufh of beauty. From the dark ftream that rolfe' 
through the foreft, the filver fcaled fifh leap up, and 
dumbly mean the praife of God. Though man remain 
filent, yet God will have praife. 'He regards, obfcrves, 
upholds, connects, and equals $11. 

Tlie belief of his exiftence is not a point of mere fpec- 
ulation and amufement. It is of inconceivable import- 
ance to our prefent, as Well as future felicity. But ^ 
while we believe there is a God, we fhould be extreme- 
ly careful to afcertain, with as much accuracy as* poffi^ 


Uci what is his real nature. The moft prominent fca-* 
ttxres of this are eidiibited in that kicon^prehcnfiUe diC* 

iFpkty of wifdom,. power, and goodnefs, made In the 
works of creation. A virtuous man jftands .in a rela- 
tion to God which is peculiarljr delightful. The di- 
vine perfo^ons are all engaged in his defence. He feel* 
Eowerfui in God*s power, wife in his wifHoin, good in 
is goodnefs.. 

Ine viciou* man, pn the contrary, ftands in a rela* 
fion to God, which is of all things the moft dreadfuL 
He is uawilUng to know that God has Efficient wifdom 
to fearch out all hjs wickednefs, fufficient goodnefs 
to the univerfc^ to determine |;o.puniih that wickednefs, 
and fufficient power to execute that determination. A 
firm belief in the exiftence of God will heighten all 
\ the enjoyments of life, and, by conformiBg our hearts 
to his will, wiU fecure t^ie; approbation of a good con* 
(cience, and Jnfpire u$ with the hopes of a bleffed im- 
mortality. . 

Never be tempted to difbelicve the exiftence of God, 

^ when every thing around you proclaims it in a languJig© 
too plain not to be underftood. Never caft your eye» 
on creation without having your fouls expanded with 
this fentiment,. " there is a Cod." When you fur- 
vey this globe of earth, with all its appendages v^ when 
you behold it inhabited by nnmberlefs ranks of crea- 
tures, all moving in their proper fpheres, all verging 
to their prop^ ends, all animated, by the ftme great 

"" foufce o( life, all fupported at the fame great bounte*- 
ous tables when you behold not onjy* the earth, but 
the ocean and the air, fwarming with living creatures,, 
all happy in their fituation *, when you behold yond^ 
fun, daa-ting an elRjIgent blaze of glory over the heay^ 
ens, garnifliing mighty worlds, and Waking ten thou* 
fand longs of praifev when you behold unnumbered 
fyftems diflfiifed throughvaft immenfity, clothed in fplenr 
dour, and rolling in majefty ; when you behold thefe^ 
things, your affeftions will rifef above all the vanities 
of time i your full fouls will ftruggle with ecftacy, md 


ypar reafoo, pai&ons, and feelings, airunited, wiUrolh 
up to the ikies, with a devont acknowledgment of the 
exiftence, powec, wifdom, and goodnefs of God. «^ 

Let^us behold him, let us wonder, let us praii% and 
adore. Thefe things will make us happy. They will 
wean us from vice, and attach us to virtue. As a be- 
Hef of the exiftence of God is a fundamental point of 
falvation, he who denies it runs the greateft conceiva- 
hle hazard. He refigns the fatisffa^on of a good con- 
fcience, quits the hopes of a happy immortality, and 
expofes hidifelf to deftruftion. Air this for what ? 
-for the fhort-lived pleafures of a riotous, diflblute life. 
How wretched, when he finds his atheiftical confidence 
totally difappointed'l Inftead of his beloved ileep and 
infenfibility, with which he fo fondly flattered himfelfy 
he will find himfelf ftill exifting after death, removed 
to a ftrange place s he will then find that there is a 
God, who will not fuffer his rational creatures to fall 
into annihilation as a refuge from the juft punifhment 
of their crimes; he will find himfelf doomed to draa^ 
on a wretched train of exiftence in unavailing woe ana 
lamentation. Alas ! how aftoniibed will be be to find 
himfelf plunged in the abyfs of ruin and defperation ! 
God forbid that any of us fhould a£t fo unwifely as to 
difbeUeve, when every thing around us proclaims his 
exiftence 1 

The Dignity of Human Nature. 

Extract of an Oration delivered at Rhodes- 
Island College, 1796. 

GUIDED by reafon, man has travelled through 
the abftrufe regions of the philofophic world. 
He has Originated rules by which he can dired the 
fiiip through the pathlefs ocean,and meafure the comet's 
flight over the fields of unlimited fpace. He has eftab- 
Kfhed fociety and government. He can aggregate the 
profufions of every climate, and every feafon. He can 
meliorate the feverity, and remedy the imperfeftions. 


of nature herfelf. AU thd!: things he can perfonn hf 

the aiSKlance of reafon. 
^ By imaginatton, man feems to verge towards crea^ 
tive power. Aided by this he caq perform all the 
wondo^s of fculpture and painting* He can ahnoft 
make the marble fpeak. He can almoft, make the 
brook murmur down the painted landfcape. Often^ 
on the pinions of ima^narioa, he foars aloft where the 
eye has never travelled \ where ^other ftars glitter on 
the mantle of night, and a more eShlgent iun lights up 
the bluihes of morning. Flying from worM to worl4» 
he gaze»s on all the glories of creation ; or, lighting on 
the diftant margin of the univerfe, darts the eye of 
feacy over the mighty void, where power creative nev- 
er yet has energized ; where exiflience ftill lleeps in the 
wide ahyfs of poffibility. 

By invagination he can travel back to the fource of 
time } converge with the fucceffive generations of mei^ 
and kindle into emulation while he fprveys the monu- 
mental trophies of ancient art and glory. He can fail 
down the ftream of time until he'lofes "fight of ftars 
and fun, by wandering into thofe retired parts of eterw 
nity, when the heavens and the earth Ihall be no more*** 

To thefe unequivocal charaderiftica of greatnefs in 
man, let us adduce 'the teftimony of nature herfelt 
-Surrounding creation fubfervesthe wants and proclaims 
the dignity of man. For him day and night vifit the 
world. For him the feafons walk fheir fplendld round* 
For him the earth teems with riches, and the heavens 
fmile with bene6cence. 

AU creation is accurately adjufted to his capacity for 
blifs. He taftes the dainties of feftivity, breathes \hc 
perfumes of morning, revels on the charms of melody^ 
and regales his eye with all -liie painted beauties of vi- 
fion. Whatever can pleafe, whatever can charm, what- 
ever can expand the foul with ecftacy of blifs, allures 
and folicits his attention. AU things beautiful, alV 
tilings grand, all things fublime, appear in native love- 
litKfsf an^d proffer man the richeft pieafures of fruition*^ 



Satan. T7RIENDS and c(mfederate8> wekooie I for 

, J[/ this proof 

Of your affiance^ thanks. On ev^ry cali^ 
Whether we need your counlel or your arma^ 
Joyful I (ee your ready zeal difplays 
Virtues^ which bell itfelf cannot corrupt* 
I mean not to declaim : the occafion told 
Speaks its own import, and the timers difpatch^ 
AH wafte of words foitiids. God's Son on earthy 
Chrift, thereveal'd Meffias, how t' oppofe 
Is now the queftion ; by what fm-ce or powers 
(Temptations have been tried, I name not them;) 
Or dark confpiracy, we may {mil down 
This Sun of Righteousnefs from his bright fpher^i 
Declare, who can. I paufe for a reply. 

Baal. Why thus on me> as I were worthy $ me. 
Loft being like yourfeWes ^ as I alone 
Could compafs this high argument ; on me, 
Leaft in your fapient conclave; why you point 
Thefe (crutiniziqg looks, I mufe | and, aw'd 
By this your expeAation, fain would (brink 
From the great talk to iilence, had you not 
0*er thefe poor faculties fuch full control^ 
As to put by all pleas, and call them forA 
In heaven or earth, or hell's profound abyfs. 
Yours in all ufes, preient at all hours. 
Our kingly chief bath told us we are met 
To combat Chrift on earth. Be't fo ! We yet 
May try our fortune in another field; 
Worfe fortune than inheav'n befel our arms ; 
Worfe downfeU than to hell, we cannot prove. 
But with the fcene our aAion too muft change : 
How ? to what warfare ? Circumvention, frauds 
SeduAion ; thefe are earthly we^^ons ; thefe 
As man to man opppfes^ fo muft we 
To Chrift incarnate. There be fome/who cry, 


Hence with fuch daftard arts ! War, open war 1 

1 honor foch bold counfellors, and yield 

All that I can, my praifc : till one be found. 

One that may rival God's own Son in power. 

And miracle to miracle oppofe, 

More than my praife I cannot ; my aflent 

i will not give ', 'twere madnefs. And bow war 

With God ? what arms may we employ 'gainft Mm, 

Whofe very prophets can call down heaven's fires 

Upon our prieils and altars ? For myfelf, 

What powers I had I (hall not foon forget i 

What I have left I know, and for your ufe 

Shall hufband as I may, not vainly ri(k 

Where they rouft furely fail. The Jews pretend 

That Chrift colludes with Beelzebub ; the Jews 

As far miftake my nature as my name. 

The fallacy, O peers, confutes itfelf, 

Forg'd to difpafage Chrift, not honor me. 

Oh ! that I had his wonder-working powers ; 

J'm not jthat.fool-to turn them on myfelf: 

'No, my brave friends, I've yet too much to lofe. 

Therefore no more of Beejicbub and Chrift ; 

No league, no compact can we hold together. 

What then cnfues ? Defpair ? Perifli-tke thought'! 

The brave renounce it, and the wife prevent ; 

You are both wife ,suid brave. Our leader ^ays 

Temptations hav.e been-«ried, and tried in vain, 

Himfclf the tempter. Who will tread that ground, 

Where he was foird ? For Adam a mere toy. 

An apple ferv'd; Chrift is not briVd by worlds^: 

So miidilhe fccond Man exceeds thefirft 

In ftrength and glory. But though Chrift himfelf 

Will not be tempted, thofc who hear him may ; 

Jews may be ur^d to envy, to revenge, 

To murder-: a rebellious race of old ! 

Wift ye tiot what a l:r2{in this preacher hath, 

(What followers, what difciples ? Thefe are men, 

Mere men, frail fons of Adam, born in fin. 

Here is our hope. I leave it to your thoughts 


Moloch. My thoughts it feems are known before I- 
fpeak \ 
War, open war is all my note. I- rife 
To thank the prophet w^o thus reads my heart, 
Where honefty fliould wear it, in my face \ 
That fact from danger I di<l never hide ^ 
How then from him ? Nor am 1 by his praife 
More honored than by his diflenting voice : 
For whilft he counfejs eircumvention, fraudjr 
Sedu6lion, (if my memory wrong his \vordi 
I yield it to correftion) we (land off, 
W^de as the pofes apart. Much I had hopM, 
When the great tempter fail'd, and in your ears 
Sung his own honor's dirge, we had heard the laft 
Of plots and tnean temptations ; mean I call them, 
For great names cannot fanftify mean deeds. 
Satan himfelf knows Toppoa'd th' atten\pt. 
Appealed, protefted ; my thrice honor*d chief 
KLnows it full well, and blulhes for th'evenr. 
And are we now caballing how t' outwit 
A few poor harmlefs fifliermen j for fuch 
Are Chrift's difciples ; how to gull and cheat 
Tiieir firople hearts of honefty ? Oh peers, 
For fhamej if not for pity, leave them that. 
That beggar's virtue. And' 15 this the theme, 
The mighty theme, which naw Employs the thoughts 
Of your immortal fynod ? Shame, Oh fliame ! 
Princes, dominions, arch-angelic^thrones,. 
Imperial Iprds ! thefe were, your titles once ; 
By thefe names ye were known' above the Aars : 
Shaqie not your ancient dignities, nor fijik 
Beneath the vilcft of the fons of men, 
Whifpcrers, informers, fpies. If Chrift be God, 
Fight as becometh you to fights,with God : 
If man, and.fure his birth befpeaks no mpre, 
Why all this preparation, this confult, 
Thefe mighty machinations and cabal$ ? 
OflFwith your foe at once \ diTijiifs him hence 
Where all his brother prophets trave been lent ; 


Where his precurfor John is gone belbre } 

Whofe vbice ftili echoes through this wildemefsv 

<^ Repent ye, for God's kingdom is at hand ! 

Prepare ye the Lord's way !" It is prepared > 

Jt leads to death : it marfiiaJs him the road 

To that oblivioui bourne, whence none retvrn^ 

Herod jet lives ; another royal feaO*^ 

Another wanton dance, and he, for whom 

ATcf^many innocents were flain, ihall fall. 

Once vanquiiii'^)j ^r» we therefore to defgair ? 

in heav'n, unequal tmile we provokM $ 

Though vad otir h«ft, the miilion xvas Vkh Cod) 

On earth, inquire of ail the nations routid 

Whom they will ferve $ with one voice they reply, 

We are their gods } they feed us with thtljr blood. 

Their Ibns and Jaiighters they make pafs through Br^- 

To do us grace : if their own flefh they give, 

Shall they withhold to facrifice a foe ? 

Twelve tribes were all Jehovah had on earth. 

And ten are loft j of this fmall remnant, few 

And wretched arc the friends that league with Heav^Qy . 

And where is now Chrift's promis'd reign on earth ? 

When God's own fcrvants rife againft his Son, 

And thoTe, to whom the prothifes were giv*n, 

Revolt from their Mefiia?, e:in we wifh 

Greater revenge ? What need have we to tempt 

Thofe, who have hearts rebellious as our own. 

As prompt to malice, ho lefs prone to vex 

God's righteous Spirit i And let come what may, 

It comes not to our lo(s, rather our gain. 

Let God arife to vengeance } let him pour 

DeftruAion on his temple, whofp proud height 

Our chief can witnefs, meafur'd by his fall : . 

Let him not leaifc one ftone upon another. 

As his rafh 9on hath menac'd ^ let his wraih 

Through all th' inhofpttable earth difperfe 

His fcatter'd tribes ; fuch ever be ^he fate 

Of all Jiis worfhippers i May fcorn, contempt, 

l^erifion be theb: lot, ^d may then: God 


Never recal his curfe I Arc we, O peers, 
To mourn .for his Jerulalem r Our joy 
Springs from confufion: : enmity 'twixt God 
And man is our bcft triumph- For myfelfj 
War is my harveft ^ then^ioay altars bhze 
Brighteft, when human viftims feed the Aime. 

Belial. After fo many peaceful ages paft 
Since firft emerging from hell's dark abyfs, 
Rous'd by our arch^angelic chief, we fprun^ 
T7p to this middle r^gion^ and here feiz'd 
On this terreftrial globe, created firft 
For man, our vaiTal now, where, at full cafe, 
Lords of the elements and gods ador'd, 
We reign and revel undifturb*d of Heav^m 
If God, whole jealoufy be fure ill brooks 
ITiat this fair world Ihould be fo long poflefs*d 
By us his exird angels, and his name, 
Pent up in Paleftine^ ihould now aronfe 
His flumb'ring wrath, and his beft ftrengtli put forth 
To< wreiUe for loft empire, and our earth. 
As we in evil hour his heav*h afiail,. 
Wh© of this mighty fynod but muft own 
The provocation warrants the retort i 
If then the maker of mankind hath caufe 
To meditate their refcue, we no lefs 
Have caufe t'oppofe th' attempt, and hold them fiaft: 
To their allegiance in defpite of Heav'n. 
Much then we owe to our great leader's care, 
Whoj ever watchful o'er the public weal^,. 
Calls us to this full comicil here to* meet 
In grave confult how bcft we may repair 
Paft difappointmcnts,. and repel the fpitc 
Of this new Champiojai, Icveli'd at our fhrines; 
Great is the trouble of my thoughts, O peers. 
And much perplex'd am I with doubts^ what nan^^ 
Nature,, and office to afcribe to Chrift ; 
In form the lowlieft of the fons of 0»n,. 
In miracles omnipotent as Gpd \ ... 

Whofe voice controls the ftouteft of our Uoft^.. 
s 2 


Bids the graves open and their dead tome forth ; 
Whofe very touch is health *, who with a ghince 
Pervades each heart, abfolves k or condemns ; 
Whofe virgin birth credulity fcarce ownsf 
And nature difavows. PraisM to aU time^ 
Immortal as himfelf be the renown 
OLthat wife fpirit, who fhall devife the means 
By force or fraud to overthrow the power 
Of this myfterious foe : what ihaH I fay ? 
Prieft, Prophet, King, Mcffias, Son of God i 
Yet how God's unity, which vtcM we know 
Endures no fecond, fhould adopt a Son^ 
And eifence indivifible divide, 
Baffles my treak conjeAure. Let that pafs ! 
To fuch hard do6farines I fubfcribe no faith : 
PlI call him man inipir'd, and wait till death 
Gives fentence of mortality upon him. 
Meanwhile let circumfpe^lion on our part 
Fill all the anxious interim ; alarm 
Rome's jealoufy j ftir up the captious fpleen 
Of the proud Pharifee j befet him round 
With fnarcs to catch him 5 urgd the envious priefts, 
For tnvy fliil beneath the altar lurks ; 
And note the man he trufls. Mammon could tdl 
Though Mammon boafts not of his own fuccefs, 
How few of human moutd have yet withftood 
His glittering, golden lures^ The fword can kiJI 
Man's body I gold deftroys his very foul. 
Yet mark me well, 1 counfel not to tempt 
The Maffer 5 poverty can do no more 
Than his own mortifying penance does, ' 
jHunger and thirft and obftinately ftarve. 
When his mere wilh could make the rock a ^rin^ 
And its hard fragments, bread. Yet fure I am ^ 
All arc not Chrift's in heart, who with their lips 
Confefs him ; thefe are men, and therefore frail. 
Frail and corruptible. And let none fay. 
Pear prompts this counfel $ I difclatm all (e^r 
'^t for the general caui^ ' In every tttm 


Nature hath built my altar ; every. &&, 
Nation and language with on^ voici^ confefi 
Pleafure the fovereign good. The Stoic churU 
The dogged fynic Tnarllng in his tub» 
And all the ragged moralising crew^ 
Are hypocrites i philofophy itfelf 
Is but my votary beneath a cloak. . ^ 

It harms not me^ thoi^ every idol gpd 
Were tumbled from his bafe ; alike I fcorn 
Saoipfon's ftrong nerve and Daniel's flaming zeaU: 
And let Chrift preacli his mortifying rules ; 
Let him go forth through all the Gentile world) 
And on the ruin of our fanes ereA . 
His church triumphant o'er the gates of hellj 
Still) ftill man's heart will draw the fecret iigh 
For pleafures unenjoyed ^ the gloomy cell 
And melancholy faft, the midnight prayer^ 
And pale contrition weeping o'er her lamp. 
Are penances* from which the fenfe revoltSj 
Fines* that cpmpoundii^ fufierftition pays 
For pleafures paft, or bribes for more to come* 

Satan* £nough of this vain boaft* 
More' than enough of thefe voluptuous ftrainsj 
Which, though they lull the ear, disarm the foul 
Of its beft attribute. . Not gaudy flowers 
Are cuU'd for med'cine* but the humble weed. 
True wifilom* ever frugal of her ijpeechj 
Gives fage advice in plain and homely words. 
The fum of all our reafoning ends in this* 
T^t nothing but the death of Chrift can folve 
The myft'ry of his nature : till he falls 
Scarce can I fay we ftand. AQ voices then. 
Though varying in the means* confpire his death, 
Some cautioufly as Baal ; fome with zeal 
Precipitate as Molpcb* whofe fwifc thought 
Vaults over all ii^jj^diments to feize 
The goal of his ambition. But* O peers^ 
Ours is no. trivial care } direfk your flght 
Along the ranks of that, redeemed hoft* 


On us haogs all their fafety. Nfght and* dlay 
My anxious thoughts are lab'ring in their caufe f 
And whilft Chrift walks the earth, I take no reft ; 
A watchful fpy forever at hts fide. 
Noting each word and deed ; fometitnes I mix 
With the fekifted Twelve that pace his fteps ; 
Of thefe, though fome have waverdinone is falle 
Save one alone, Ifcariot he by name ; 
The taini of avarice liath toueh'd his heart •,* 
Fve marked biin for my own. H^ar, princes, hear f 
Xhis night the priefts and elders will convene 
Their fccret tonchve: I atn in their hearts^ 
Burning with envy, malice, and revenge, 
Their only thought is how to tangle Chrift, 
In whom of force !**#n no guile is found. 
But gentleneis inftead, and perfed truth ; 
A lamb in nature without fpot and pure*; 
Fit viftim therefore for their Pafchal rites, 
Which now are near at hand : ' apt is the hour, 
Apt are the itlftruments. What now remains 
But to fend forth a tempter to perfuade 
Ifcariot to betray his mafter's life. 
And damn himfolf for gold? Speak, is there one,. 
One in this patriot circle, whom all eyes 
Point out fof t^is emprife ? Moft furc there is 5 
Belial hath well predl^d of our choice : 
Mammon, ftand forth f on thee th* eleSion lights. 
Mammon. * Prince of this world ! tawhom thefe^r- 
mies owe,. 
(Loft but for thee in everlafting night)^ 
.The glorious profpeA of yon rifing fun, 
'Tis not t' evabde the labour, but prevent 
The failure^ your hopes, that I befeech 
Tour wifdom to correA its choice, and lodge 
This arduous embafly in abler hands : 
Nathlefsy if fuch yotir wtU, and my compeers 
Adjudee me to this fervice, I fubmit. 
In me is no repugnance, no delay \ 
"^-^rever what thcfe toiling band^ could do, 


Or patient thoughts devife, tlisit I hayiei doof 9 •'■ 

Whether in heaven ordaipM to underouQC 

God's adamantine throne» or doom'd to dig 

The folid fulpbur of hell's burning foils 

Fearlefs I wrought^ and^ were there np tQOgim.€lfe . 

To vouch my fervices^ thefe fears would fpeak. 

How many daintier fpirits do I fee 

Fair as in heav'n^ and in frelh bloom of youth* 

Whilft I, with fliriveird ftnews cramp'd and icorch'd^ 

'Midft peflilential d^mps and fiery blafts, 

Drag as you fee a mi£^able load». 

Age-ftruck without the laft refoprce q( death : 

This for myfelf : no more* You're not to4ear« 

The fhares which I eoiploy 9^ giolden fnarses \ 

Thefe are my artsj^ and like the ^afty flave, 

Who in Rome's Circus hurbthe fotal nfit_ ^.■ 

Over his fierce purfuer^ fo oft times 

Have I entangled the proud he^t^ of men» 

And made their cQurage &oo^ to ibam«ful bribes^ 

Paid for difhpneft de^^i pei|uri^ s^ plotSt 

That draw them off from God| who elfe \^ fiU'd 

His courts ere now with gfefts) s^ peopled hoagir'tK 

Thefe weapons and tbefe han4s you ftUl CMunasui *, 

5o dear t hold the general ^aufe at heart* 

So difcipli^'d am I in duty's fchool) ■ ^ . 

That recklefs of all haziasd I pr<^t 

Myfelf your fcrvant, or if fofaHf.wiU% 

Tour facrifice : for thQughiri^m lAortal man 

Difcomfiture I dread not ^ yet if.Ch»iftr 

Whom the great tempter foil'd »ot> fltaU ftand £anh 

The champion of hi9 fotlqwersj witi^ fof'^m^ 

You, my brave peers^ and this aDgsiic hoft» 

I fought not this bold height) whence if I fall^ . 

I do but fall where Sataa could not ftaisd^ 

Satan. Go then } • 

Go> brave adventurer, g^ wh«re g^ry.isalls ; . 
Aufpicious thoughts eo^et^der in tny bt eaft» 
And now prophetic vifipn^burft upon me ^. . 
I fee the tr^tor Judaic with » ba^d > 


Of midnight ruffians feize his peaceful Lord : 
They drag him to the baf, accufe, condemn ; 
He bleeds, he dies I Darkncfs involves the reft. ' 
Afcend the air, brave fpirit, and 'midft the fhout 
Of grateful myriads wing thy courfe to fame. 

Extract from Mr. Pitt's* Speech in thb 
British Parliament, May 13, 1777. 

My Lord9> 

XHIS is a flying moment ; perhaps but fix weeks 
left to arreft the dangers that furrouffd us. It is 
alt for government, after all that has paf&d, to 
ihake hands with dcfiers of the king, defiers of the Par- 
liament, defiers of the people, I am a defter of nobody ; 
but if an end is not put to this war, there is an end to 
this kingdom. I do not truft my judgment in my preP-. 
cnt ftate of hcnkh; this is the judgment of my better 
days 5 the refult of forty years attention to Americ^i 
They are rebels ! but what arc they rebels for ? Surely 
not for defending their uiwiueftkmabicTights.! _ What 
have thefe rebels done heretofore ? I remember wiien 
they raifed fpur regiments on their own bottom, and 
took Louifburg from the veteran troops of France; 

But their exceiles have been great ! I do not mean 
their panegyric ', but mud obferve, in extenuation, the 
erroneous and infatuated counfels, which have pre- 
vailed. The door to mercy and juftice has been (hut 
againft them. But they may ftill be taken uponthe 
grounds of their formtr fubmifGon. I (late to you the 
importance of America ; it is a double market ; a market 
of confumption, and a miu*ket of fopply. This double 
market for millions with naval (lores, you are giving 
to your hereditary rival. 

America has carried you through four wars, and will 
now carry you to your death, if you do not take things 
in time. In the fportfinan*^8 phrafe>. when you hjive 


found yourCblvcs at ?adlt, jon inuft try l^ack. You have, 
ranfaekcd every corner of lower Saxony; hut for ty 
thoufand German hoors never can conquer ten times 
the number of Britilh freemen. They may ravage; 
they cannot conquer. But you would conquer, you 
fay ! Why, what would you conquer ? the map 
of America ? I am ready to meet any general officer 
on the fubje'ft. 

What will you do ^ut of tlie protcflion of your 
fleet? In the winter, if together, they are ftarved; 
and if difperfed, they are taken off in detail. I am ex- 
perienced in fpr'tng hopes and vernal promifes. I 
know what minifters throw out ; but at laft will come 
your equinoBial difappdintment. They tell yx)U— r 
what? That your army will be as ftrong as it was 
laft year, when it was not ftrong enough. .Youliavc 
gained nothing in America but ftations. You have been 
rtiree years teaching them the art of war. They are 
apt fcholars ; and I will venture to^tell your lordihips, 
t'hat the American gentry will make officers enough, fit 
to command the troops of all the European powers. 
What you have Tent there are too many to make peace;, 
foo few to make war. 

If you conquer them, wTiat then"? You cannot make 
them rcfpeft you ; you cannot tnake them wear your 
cloth. You will plant an invincible hatred in their 
breafts againft you. Coming from the ftock they do, 
they can never refpeft you. If minifters are founded 
in faying there is no fort of treaty w ith France, there 
is ftill a moment left ; the point of honor is ftill fafc. 
France muft be as felf-deftroying as England, ^o make 
n treaty white you are giving her America, at the ex- 
penfe of twelve millions a year. The intercourfe has 
produced every thing to France ; and England, poor 
old England muft pay for all. 

I have at difierent times hnade different propofitions, 
adapted to the circumftances in which they were offer- 
ed. The plan contained in the former bill is now im- 
prafticaWe^ the prefent motion will telkyou where. 


yoa are, and what jan have now to depend apon. It 
may produce a refpeAable diviiion in America, and 
unanimity athooie. It will give Aaicrica an option : 
£he has yet made no option. You have faid. Lay down 
your arms, and flie has given you the Spartaa anfiper, 
^ 0)mc and take them.** 

I will get out of my bed, on Monday, to move for 
an immediate redrefs of all their grievances, and for 
continuing to them t]>e right of difpofing of their own 
property. H^is will be the herald of p^ace; thtswill 
open the way for treaty ; this will Ihow that Parlia-» 
ment is fincerely difpofed. Tet ftill much muft be left 
to treaty. Should you conquer this people, you con^.^ 
quer under the cannon of France i under a maiked bat- 
tery then ready to open. The moment a treaty with 
France appears, you muft declare war, though you had 
only five &ips of the line in England : but France will 
defer a treaty as long as poffible. 

Tou are now at the mercy of every little G^maa 
chancery ; and the pretenfions of France will increafc 
daily, fo as to become an avowed party in either peace 
or war. Wc have tried for unconditional fubmi0ioitt^ 
let us try what can be gained by unconditional redrefs^ 
Lefs dignity will be loft in the repeal, than in fubaut<# 
ting to the demands of German chanceries. We are 
the aggreflbrs. Wc have invaded them. We have 
invaded them as much as the Spaniih armada invaded 
England. Mercy cannot do harm; it will feat the 
king where; he ought to be^ throned on the hearts of , 
his people; and millions at home and abroad, now.v 
employed iU obloquy or revolt, would then pr^y for 


On the Day of Judgment* 

"AT midnight, when mankind are wrap*d in peacc> 
JlJL -^"^ worldly fancy feeds on golden dreams ; 
To give more dread to hiati's moft dreadful hour ; 
At midnight, 'tis prefum'd tjiis pomp will burft 
From tenfold darknefs 5 fuddeti as the (park 
From frtiitten ftecl ; from nitrous grain the blaze. 
Man, ftarting from his cotich, fhall fleep no more !' 
The day is broke which never more (hall clofe ! 
Above, around, benesfth, amazement all ! 
Terror and glory join'd in their extremes ! 
Our God in grandeur, and our world on fire ! 
All nature ftruggUng in the patigs of death ! 
Doft thou not hear her ? Doft thou not deplore 
Her ftrong convulfions and her final groan ? 
Where are we now? Ah tne ! the ground is gone. 
On which we ftood, LORENZO f while thou may'ftj^ 
Provide more firm fupporr, or fink ferrever ! 
Where ? how ? from whence ? vain hope ! It is too late? 
Where, 'where^ for fhelter, fliall thegui/ty^y^ 
When confternation turns the good man pale ? 

Great day ! for which all other days were made ; 
For which earth roft from chaos, man from earth ; 
And an eternity, the date of gods, 
Deftended on poor earth-creiited man \ 
Great day of dread, decifion, and defpair ! 
At thotigfc^^ of thee, each fublunary wifli 
Lets go its eager grafp, and drops the world ; 
And catchess at each reed of hope in heaven. 
At thought of thee I And jrft thou abfefd then, 
LORENZO I not 'tis acre ; it is begun y . 
Already is begun the grand afiiijeei 
In thee, in all. Deputed confcieHce fcalcs 
The dread tribunal^ and fbreftals our doom : 
Forcftals } and, by fofeftallihg, proves it furc. 
Why on himfelf ihould man t^drV jadgme&t pafs ? 


Is idle nature laughing at her fons ? 

Who confcience fent, her fentence will fupport, 

And God above afiert that God in man. 

Thrice happy they, who^pter now the court 
Ueav'n opens in their bofomr: .but, how rare ! 
Ah me ! that magnanimity, how rare ! 
What hero, like the man who ftands himfelf } 
Who dares to meet his naked heart alone ; 
Who hears, intrepid, the full charge it brings, 
Refolv'd to filence future murmurs there ? 
The coward flies,; and flying is undone, 
(Art than a coward ? No.) The coward flies ; 
Thinks, but thinks flightly •, aiks, but fears to know j 
Alks « What is truth ?*' with i?ilatc ; and retires ; 
Diflblves the c6urt, and mingles, with the throng; 
Afylum fad ! from reafon, hope, ^nd heav*n ! 
Shall all, but man, look out with ardent eye. 
For that great day, which was ordain'd^r man ? 
O day of confummation ! Mark fupreme 
(If men are wife) of human thought ! nor ieafl> 
Or in the fight of angels, or their King I 
Angels, wbpfe radiant circles, height o^r height. 
Order o'er order riling, blaze o'er blaze. 
As in a theatre, furround this fc^ne. 
Intent on man, and anxious for his fs^e ; 
Angels look out for thee^ fcr thee, their Lor,d« 
To vindicate his glory ; and for thee. 
Creation univerfal calls aloud. 
To difinvolve the moral world, and giye 
To Nature's renovation bright cr^djarms. * 


The dissipated Oxford^ Stitdekt, a Di- 


LioKEL, Lavinia, and Camilla. 

- . . Y TOW do you do, girls ? how do you do ^ 
• Jfl I ana glad to lee you, upon my foul I ami 

J . {^Shaking thein hard by the hMid. 

Lavinia. I thought, brother, you had been at Dr. 
Marchmont's ! 

Litm. All in-good time, my dear 5 Ifhall certainly 
vifit the old jgenthnan before long. 

iav. Gracioufi, Lionel ! — If my mother- — — 
Lion. My dear Httk Laviaia, [Chyck'mg her rwder 
the chinj^ I have a mighty notion of making vifits at 
my own. tirpe and appointment, inftead of my mamma's. 

Lav* O Liond ! and can you juft now- 

Lion. Gome,., come, don't let us wafte our precious 
moments in this fiilfome moralizing, if i had not luck- 
ily been hard by, I ihiould not have known the coafl 
was clear. , Pray where are the old folks gone tanti- 




Camilla. To Cleves. ■ . , 

Lion. Ta Cleves I What a happy efcape ! I was 
upon the point of going thither royfelf. Camilla, what 
is the matter with thee, my little duck ? 

Cam. Nothing—I am only thinking — Pray when 
do you go to Oxford i 

Lion. Poh, poh, what do you talk of Oxford for ? 
you are grown quite ftupid,. girl. I believe you have 
lived too long with that old maid of a Margland. Pray 
how does that dear creature do ? I am afraid (he will 
grow melancholy from not feeing mefo long. Is fht 
as pretty as £he ufed to be ? I have fomc notion of 
fending her a fuitor. 

Lav. Q brother, is it pcffible you can have fuch 
fpirits ? 


Lhn. O hang It ; if one is not merry when olfe 
can, what IS the jvorld good for? Befides, I do aflure 
jou, I fretted fo confumedly hard at firft, that for tb« 
life of me I can fret no longer. 

Cam. But why are you nqt at Dr. * Marchmont's^i 

Jiun, Bccaufe, my dear foul, you can't conceive how 
much pl.eafure these old doftors take in le^uring a 
yown^fter who is in any diigrac€. 

Cam. Difgrace \ 

Lav. At all cvent6, 1 befeech you to be a little care* 
ful i I would itot have my poor mother find you here 
/or the world. 

Lion. O, as to that, I defy her to defire the meeting 
lefs than I do. Bm come, let's talk of fomething elfc. 
How go on the claflics i Is my old friend, Dr. Ork- 
horne, as chatty and amufing as ever ? 

Cam. My dear Lionel, 1 am filled with apprehea^ 
llkon and perplexity. Why fliould my, mother wiih not 
to fee you ? And why — and how is it po^ihle yqq 
can wiih not to fee her ? 

Lk/u What, don't yen know it all ? 

Cam. I only know that fomething is wj?ong ; buV 
,how, what, or which way,i have-not heard. 

Ltoa. Has not Lavina told you, then ? , 

Lav. No ', I* could be id no hafte to give her fo 
m«ch pain* 

Lijpn. You are a good girl enough* .But how cam© 
you here, Camilla ? and what is the reafon you have 
not fecn my mother yourfelf ? 

Cam. . Not feen her! I have been with her this 
^lalf hour. 

Lioru What ! and in all that time did flie nqt tell 

Cam. She did not name you. 

Lm. Is it poffible ! Well, flie's a noble creature,! 

muft confefs. I wonder how £he could ever have fuch 

a fon. And I am ftill kfs. like my father than I am 

like her. I believe in my confcience I was changed 

^ the cradle. Will you own me, young ladies, if fp-mp 


yillanous attorney or excifeman fhould claim me by 
and by? . ^ 

Cam. Dear Lionel, do explain to me what has hap- 
pened. You talk fo wildly, that you make me think 
it important and trifling twenty times in a minute* 

Lion. O, a horrid kifinefs ( Lavina mufl: tell you, 
I'll withdraw ti^l ihe has done. Don't delpife me, 
Camilla. I am confounded forry, I afTure you. [Go^ 
ing ; and then' immediately returning.']. Come, upon 
the whole, I had better tell it you myfelfv for ihe'U 
make fuch a difmal ditty of k, that it won't be- over 
this half year.. JThe fooner we have done with it the 
better. It will only put you out of fpirits. You 
nauft know I was in rather a bad fcrape at Oxford laft 
year '- 

Cam. Laft year ! and you never told Us of it before ! 

JLion. O, 'twas about fomethirig you would not un- 
derftand ; fo I ihall not mention particulars now. It 
h enough for you to know, that two or three of us 

wanted a little cafti! Well, fo- in ihort, I fent a 

letter — fomewhat of a threalening fort — to old unclq 
Relvil! and— 

Cam. O Lionel! 

Lion. O, I did not fign it. It was only begging a 
Kttle nK>ney, which he can aflFord to fpare very well ; 
and JHft telling him, if he did not fend it to a certain 
place which I mentioned, he would have his brains 
blown out- 

Cam. How horrible ! 

Lion. Poh, poh; he bad on-Iy to fend the money> 
you know^ and then his brains might keep their place. 
Befides, you can*t fuppofe there waS gunpowder in the 
words i though to be fure, the letter was charged with 
a few volleys of oaths. But, would gpu believe it ! 
the poor old gull was ifool enough a^fbisdly to fend the 
money where he was directed. 

Lav. Hold, hold, Lionel ! I cannot endure to hear 
you fpeak in fuch difgraceful terms of th^t worthy 
man. How could you treat that ^xoeUent un^e in 

y 2 


fach a cruel manner ! How couM yon find a heart to 
fwear at fo meek, fo benevolent, fo indulgent-*—^ 

I^ion. My dear little chicken, don't be fo precifc 
and old maidifli. Don't you know it's a relief to a 
man's mind to fwear a few eutting oaths now and then 
when he's in a paffion ? when all the time he would 
no more do harm to the people he fweafs at,* than you 
would, who mince out all your words as if you were 
talking treafon, and thought every man a fpy that heard 
you. It is a very innocent refreihment to a itian's 
mind, my dear. But the difficulty is, you know no- 
thing of the ii^orld. ^ 

Cam. , Fie, brother ] You know how fickly our un- 
cle has always been, and how eafily he might be alarmed. 

Lion. Why yes, Camiira ; I really think it was a 
very wicked trick 5 and 1 would give half my little fin- 
ger that I bad not done it. But it's over now, you 
know ; fo what fignifies making the worft of it ? 

Cam. And did he not difcover you ? 

Lion. No ; I gave him particular orders, in my 
letter, not to attempt any thing of that fort ; afluring 
him there were fpies about him to watch his proceedings. 
The good old fimpleton took it all for gofpci. So there 
the matter ended. However, as ill luck would have it, 
about three months ago, we wanted, another fum — 

Lav* And could you again 

Lion. Why, my dear, it was only taking a little of 
my own fortune before hand, for I am his heir; fo we 
all agreed it was merely robbing myfclf ; for we had 
l^veral confultations about it *, and one of us is to be 
a lawyer. 

Cam. Bat you/ give me fome pleafure here ; for I 
had never heard that my uncle had made you his heir. 

Li^tt. NeiJier had I, my deary ; but I take it fo* 
granted. Befides, our little lawyer put it into my head. 
Well, we wrote again, and told the poor old foul, for 
which I afTure you I am heartily penitent, that, if he did 
not fend me double the fum, in the fame manner, without 
delay, hishoufe was t^ be fet on fire^ while he and M 


his family were in bed and aflecp^ Now don't make 
faces nor Aruggings ; for I promife yoti, I think al- 
ready I deferve to be hung for giving him the fright ^ 
though I would not really have hurt the hair of his 
head for half his fortune.' But who could have guefT- 
ed that the old codger would have bitten fo readily? 
The money however, came 5 and we thought the bu- 
finefs all fecure, and agreed to get the fame fum annu- 

Cam. Annuallt^ ! O horrible ! 

Lion. Yes, my darling. You have no conception 
how convenient it would have been for our extra ex- 
penfes* But, unluckily, uncle grew worfe, and went 
abroad ; and then confulted with fome crab of a friend, 
and that friend, with fome demagogue of a magiflrate^ 
and fo all is now blown. However, we had managed 
it fo cleverly, that it coft them nearly three months to 
find it out 5 owing, I muft confefs, to poor uncle's cow- 
ardice, in not making his inquiries before the. money 
was carried off, and he himfelf beyond the fea. The 
other particulars Lavinia muft give you ; for I have 
talked of it now till I have made my felf quite fick. 
Do tell me fome diverting flory to drive it a little out 
of my head. But, by the way, pray what has carried 
the old folks to Cleves ? Have they gone to tell this 
fad tale to Uncle H^gh, fo that I might lofe him too? 

Lav. No; your affliftcd parents are determined 
not to name it. They are ftriving that nobody elfe 
Jhall know any thing of the matter, except Dn March- 

Lion. Well, they are good fouls, it muft be acknowl- 
edged. I wifti I deferved them better. I wifli too it 
was not fucli plaguy dull bufinefs to be good. I con- 
fefs, girls, it wounds my confcience fo think how I 
have afflified my parents, efpecially iiiy poor mothef, 
wha is not fo well able to bear it. But when one is 
at Oxford, or in London — ^your merry blades the^, I 
can't deny it, my dear fifttrs, your merry blades t^erc 
»re but fad fellows. Yvt there b fa<^ ftin, fuch /pfrif , 


fuch genuine fport among them^ T cannot^ for xclj llfe> 
keep out of the way. Befides> you have no concep- 
tion^ young ladies* what a bye- word you foon become 
among them> if they find you pinching. But this is 
little to the purpofe j for you know nothing of life yet^ , 
poor things. 

Lav. I would not for "the world fay any thing to 
pain yous my dear brother ; but if this is what you 
call life, I wifh we might never know any thing of it, 
I wiih» more, that you had been fo happy as never to 
have known it. You pity our ignorance, we pity your 
folly. How ftrangely infatuated you are f But yet I 
will hope, that, in future, your £rft ftudy will be to 
reiift fuch dangerous examples, and taihun fuch unwor- 
thy friends. Pray refleft one moment on the diftrefl>. 
ing fituation of your d^ar parents, who cannot endure 
.your prefence, through the poignancy of grief! What 
labors and hardihips has your poor father encounter- 
ed, to g^in wherewithal to fupport you at the Univer- 
fity \ And what is your return ? Such, my dear broth- 
er, as will foon bring down his grey hairs with forrow 
to the grave. As forj^our poormothe?', it is quite un- 
certain whether any of us ever fee her again, as your 
much-injured uncle has fent for her over fea to attend 
him in his ficknefs ^ and to>morr6w fhe fets out. She 
has left it in folemn charge with me, to deliver you a 
mefiage from her, which, |f you have any fenfibillty 
remaining, will cut you to the heart. 

LtQtt. I know ihe can have faid nothing worfe than 
I expeft, or than I merit. Probe me, then, Lavinia^ 
iHrithout delay. Keep me not in a moment's fuipenfe. 
I feel a load of guilt upon me, and begin fiiicerely to 
repent. She is acting towards me like an angel v. and 
if fiie were to command me to turn hermit, I know I 
ought to obey her. 

Lav. Well, then, my mother fays, my dear Lionel^ 
th^t the fraud you have praftifed-—^ 

Lion. The fraud f what a horrid word! Why it 
was a mere trick ! a joke ! a Jprolic i juft to make an 


* old hunks open bis purfc-ftrxngs to his natural heir, t 
am aftoniflied at my mother ! I really don't care wheth- 
er I hiear another fyllable. 

Lav> Weil, then, my dear Lionel, I will wait till 
you are calmer: my mother, I am fure, did not mean 
to irritate, but to convince. 

. Z'ion. [^Striding about the wobm.'\ My mother makes 
no allowahces. She has no fauhs herfelf, and for that 
reafon fhe thinks nobody elfe fliould have any. Bc- 
fides, how (hould fhe know what it is to be a young 
man ? and to want a little cafh, and not to know how 
to get it ? . 

, Lav. But I am fure, if you wanted it for any prop- 
er purpofe> my father would have denied himfclf every 
thing, in order to fupply you. 

Uon. Yes, yes 5 but fuppofe Iwant it for a pnrpolfe 
that is ncft proper, how am I to get it then ? 

Ca7n. Why, then, my dear Lionel, furely you muft' 
be fenfifele you ought to go without it. 

hiotu k^t^ that's as you glrl$ fay, who know noth- 
iug of the matter. If ,a young man, when he goes in- 
to the world, were to make (uch a fpeech as that, he 
would be pointed at. Befides, whom muft he live 
with ? You don't fuppofe he is to ihut hiipfelf up, with 
a few mufty books, Seeping oyer the fire, under pre- 
tence of ftudy, all day long, do you ? like young Mel- 
mond, who knows no more of the world, than either 
pf you .^ 

Cam. Indeed^ he fcems to me an amiable and mod- 
^ft young man, though very romantic^ 

Lkn. O, I dare ^y te does ! I could have laid any 
wager of that* He's juft a girl's man, juft the very 
thing, all fentiment, and poetry, and heroics. But we, 
my little dear, we lads of fpirit, hold all that amazingly- 
cheap. I affure you, I would as foon be feen trying on 
a lady's cap at a glafs, as poring over a crazy old au- 
thor. I warrant you think, becaufc one is at the Uni* 
vcrfitfi one muft be a book- worm ! 


zav. Why, what clfe do yoago there for bttt to 
ftudy ? 

Lion. Every thing elfe in the worldj my dear. 

Cam, But arc there not fometimes young men who 
are fcholars, without being book-worms ? Is not Edgar 
Mandlebcrt fuch a one ? 

^Lton. O yes, yes \ an odd thing of that fort happens 
now and then. Mandlebert has fpirit enough to carrv 
it off pretty well, without being ridiculous ; thouga 
he is as deep, for his time, as c*er an did fellow of a 
college. But then this is no rule for others. Tou 
muft not expeft an Edgar Mandlebert at every turn, 
m^ dear innocent creatures. 

Lav, But Edgar has had an extraordinary educa- 
tion, as well as poflcffing extraordinary talents and 
goo^nefs ; you too^my dear Lionel, to fulfil What may 
be expe£led from you, fliould look back to your father,, 
who was brought up at the fame univerfity, and isf now^ 
confidered as one of the firft men it has produced. 
While he was refpefted by the learned for his applica- 
tion, he was loved even by the indolent for his can- 
dour and kindnefs of heart. And though his income, 
as you know, was very fmal^, he never ran in debt ; 
and by an exaft but open economy, efcaped all impu- 
tation of meannefs. 

ihn. Yes 5 but all this is nothing to the purpofe- 
My father is no more like other men than if he had 
been bortv in another planet ; and my attempting to 
rcfemble him would be as great a joke, as if you were 
to drefs up in Indiana's flowers and feathers, and ex- 
peft people to call you a beauty. I was born a bit of 
a buck ; and have no manner of natural tafte for ftudy, 
and poring, and expounding, and black-letter work. I 
am a light, airy fpark, at your fervice, ladies 5 not 
quite fo wife as \ am merry. I am one of your ec- 
centric geniufcs; but let that pafs. My father, you 
know, is firm as a rock. He minds neither wind nor 
weather, nor fleerer nor fneeref , nor jok6r nor jeerer ; 
but his firmnefe he has kept all to himfelf ^ not a whit 


of It do I inlierh. Eveiy wind that blows veers me 
about) and gives me a new direftion. Bat with all. my 
father's lirmnefs and knowledge, I very much doubt 
whether he knows any thing of real life. That is the 
main thing, my dear hearts. But, come, Lavinia,fin- 
ifh your meflage. 

Lav, My mother lays, the fraud youliave praftif- 
cd, whether from wanton folly to give pain, or from 
rapacious difcontent to get m^ney, £he will leave with- 
out comment ; fatisfied that if you have any feeling at 
all,itseffe£b mud bring remorfe ; iinceit has danger^ 
ouily increafed the infirnrities of your uncle, driven 
him to a foreign land, and forced your mother to for** 
fake her home and family in his purfuit, unlefs fhe were 
willing to fee you punifhed by the entire difinhentance 
with which you are threatened. But — 

Lion, O, no more:! no more ! I am ready to ihoot 
myfelf already ! My dear, excellent mother, what do 
I not owe you ! I had never feen, never thought of 
the bufinefs in this folemn way before^ I meant no- 
thing at firft but a filly joke % and all this xmfchief has 
followed unaccountably. I afllire you, I had no no- 
tion at the beginning he would have minded the letter^ 
and afterwards. Jack Whifton perfuaded me, that the 
money was as good as my own, and that it was no- 
thing but a little a*ibbing from myfelf. I will never 
truft him again; I fee the whole now in its true and 
atrocious colours. I will devote ail the means in my. 
power to make amends <to my dear incomparable mo- 
ther. But proceed^ Lavinia. 

Lav, But £nce you are permitted, laid my mothert 
to return home,bytheforgiving temper of your father, 
who is himfelf, daring the vacation, to be your tutor, 
after he is fufiiciently compofed to admit you into his 
pre:fence, you can repay his goodnefs only by the moft 
inteafe application to thofe lludies which yoa have 
hitherto negleAed, and of which your negleft has been 
the caufe of your errors. Ske charges you alfo to aik 
yoyr lelf, upcn ivhat pretext you can juftify the waft- 


iag of hb valoaUe time, however little you may rq* 
gard your own. Finally— 

/.hn* I never wafted his time I I never deiired to 
have any inftruftion in the vacations. *Tis the moft 
deuced thing in life to be ftudying fo inceiTantly. The 
w^fte of time is all his own affair, his own choice, not 
mine. Go on, however, and open the whole of the 

Zav* Finally, flie adjures you to confidcr^ that If 
you ftill perfevcre to confume your time in wilful neg- 
ligence, to bury all thought in idle gaiety, and to z6k 
without either reflcftion or principle, the career of 
faults which begins but in unthinking folly, will termi- 
nate in fhame, in guilt, and in ruin [ And though fuch 
a declenfion of all good, muft invole your family ia 
your aifliftion, your difgrace will ultimately fall but 
where it ought ; iince your own want of perfonat fen- 
fibility will neither harden nor blind any human being 
befidc yourfelf. This is all- 

Lion. And enough too. I am a very wretch ! I be- 
lieve that, though I am fure I can't tell how I came 
foj for I never intend any harm, never think, never 
dream of hurting any mortal I But as to ttudy, 1 muft 
own to ytm, I hate it moft deucedly. Any thing elfe % 
3f my mother had but exaded any thing elfe, with what 
joy 1 would have ihown my obedience! If fhe had or- 
dered me to be horfe-ponded, I do pro^eft to you, I 
would not have demurred. 
' Cant. How^ you always run into the ridiculous ! 

Ziofi. I was never fo ferious in my life ; not that 
1 ihould like to be horfe-ponded in the ieaft, though 
1 would fubmit to it by way of punifliment, and out of 
duty: but then, when it was done, it would be over. 
Now the deuce of ftudy is, there is no end to it ! And 
it does fo little for one ! one can go through life (b 
well without it ! there is but here and there an oM 
codger who a queftion that can bring it into 
any play. And then, a turn upon one's heel, or look- 
ing at one's watch, or wondering at one's fiioit mem« 


«rf9 or happening to forget juft that one fihglepaiiage, 
carries off the whole in two minutes, as completely as 
if one had been working one's whole life to get ready 
for the afiault. And pray now telt me, hdw can it be 
worth one's beft days, one's gayeft hours, the very 
Hower of oiie's life, all to be facrificed to plodding over 
mufty grammars and lexicons, merely to cut a figure 
juft for about two minutes, once or twice in a year ^ 

Cam. Indeed, Lionel, you appear to me a ftriking 
example of what a hard thing it is t6 learn to do well, 
a&er one has been ac(:uftomed t6 do evil. How volatile I 
how totally void of all ftability ! One minute you eac* 
hibit appearances of repentance and refformation, and 
the next minute, all fair profpeAs vanifli. How I la- 
ment that you were fo early expofed to a vicious world, 
before you had gained fufScient ftrength of mind to 
withftand bad examples ! 

Uon. Forbear, Camilla* Ton hurt me too much. • 
Tou excite thofe fevere twinges of remorfe, which, I 
am obliged to own, I have never been wholly (ret from, 
fince I joined my merry companions, and began to learn 
the world. Not withftanding my gaiety, and my appar- 
ent contentment, I coilfefs there is fomething within, 
which conftantly admonifhesmeof myerrors,and makes 
me feel unhappy : fo that, if it were not iox fajhioris 
fake, I can truly fay, I could wi£h I were in your re- . 
clufe iituation ; here to remain in my once pleafant 
abode, and never more mingle wtt^ the world. 

Lav* Dear brother, I cannot leave you, without 
once more calling; your attention to your parents, your 
family, and your friends. Think of their pref(^nt iitu- 
ation. If you have no regard for yoiir own charadert 
your prefent, or future happinefs, I entreat you to have 
fome pity for them. Let not the tyrant faihion bring 
you into abje£): flavery. Pardon me when I tell you, 
your pretended friends are your worft enemies* They 
have led you into a path which will carry you direAIy 
to inevitable rUin, unlefs you immediately foH&ke \^ 
That knowledge of the iKrorld, of which yOa A> vaim^ 
U .. 


boaft) is infinitely worfe than the ignorance which yoa 
fo much defpife. Believe me» my dear brother, it is a 
knowledge, which, by your own conftilion, never has 
produced you any happinefs, nor will it ever ; but will 
guide you to wretchednefs and miiery. 

Jaion. My dear fifters, I am convinced. Tour words 
'have pierced my very foul. I am now wretched, and 
;I deferve to be (b.* I am determined from this moment 
to begin my reformation, and, with the afSdance -of 
J^eaven, to .complete it. Never more will I fee my 
vile companions, «who have enticed me to go &cli 
lengths in wickednefs. What do I not owe to my 
amiable fifters. for their friendly and feafonable advice 1 
I will go direAly to my father, and, like the prodigal 
iffon, fall on my knees before hjm, beg his forgivenefsy 
and put myfelf entirely under his direction and inftruc- 
tion ; and, fo long as I live, I never will offend him again. 

Lav. Alay Heaven affift you in. keeping your refo*^ 
lutions! ' 

Extract from a Speech in Congress, 


WITH Great-Britain. -^ 

IF any, againft ^11 thefe proo£i which have jbeen 
ofiered, fhoukl maintain that the peace with.'the 

flndians will be Aabk without the Weftern Pofts,'to 
thcm^^I will urge another, reply. From arguments cal* 

, culated'^o prodtKe conyldioi}, I will appeal diredlly to 
the hearts of thefe who hear, me, and aik whether it is 
not already planted there? I^r^ort efpecially to the 
conyi^ohs of the Weftern gendemen, whether, fup* 
pofing noPofts and no Treaty, the<fettlers will remain 

; in fecurity ? Can they take 4t upjon them to fay, thdt 
an Indian peace, trader thefe eircumiVances, will prove 
firm?? No,JSir,.it will not be peace, 4>ut a fwordj it 
will be na better than a lore todraw w^ims within the 
reach of the tomahawk. 


' On this theme, my emotions are unat|^f abte. If I 
could find words for them, if my powers bofe any pro* 
ponion to my zeal, I would fwcU my voice to (hch a 
note of rcmonftrarfce, it fhoiild rcgrcK every log-hioufe 
heyond'the hiountains. I would fay to the inhabitants. 
Wake from your falfe fecurity. Your cruel dangers, 
your more cruel apprehenfions are foon tobe renewed. 
The wounds, yet unhealed, are to he torn open again* 
Inr the day time, your path through the woods will bfc 
ambuihed. The darkhefs of midnight will glitter with 
the blaze of your dwellings. You are a father j- the 
blood of your fons (hall fatten your cornfield. Yoo 
are a mother; the War-whoop fliall irakc the flcep of 
the cradle. » 

On this fubjeft you need not fufpeft any deception 
on your feelings. It is a fpe^lacie of horror which can- 
not be overdrawn. If you have nature in your hearts, 
they will fpeak a language^ compared with wHich, zWI 
have faid or can fay, will be poor and frigid. Will it 
be whifpered that the treaty has made me a new cham- 
pion for the proteAion of the frontiers ? It is known 
that my ^oice as well as vote have been uniformly giv- 
en in conformity with the ideas I have exprefled. 
ProteAion is the right of the frontiers *, it is our duty 
to give it. 

Who will accufe me of wandering out of the fubjeft? 
Who will fay that I exaggerate the tendencies of our 

'meafures ? Will any one anfwer by a fneer, that all 
this is idle preaching ? Will any one deny that we arc 
bound, and I would. hope to good purpole, by the moft 
(blemn fan^lions of duty for the vote we give ? Are 
defpots alone to be reproached for unfeeling indiffep- 
cnee to the tears and blood of their fubjefts ? Are re- 
publicans unrefponfiWe ? Have the principles on whith 
you ground the reproach upon cabinets and kings po 
practical influence, no binding force ? Ate they merely 
themes of idle declamation, introduced to decorate the 
morality of a newfpaper eflay, or to fiirnifh pretty top- 
ics of harangue from the windows of that State houfe ? 


I truft k i% neither too {arefumptuous nor too late fo 
aik, Can you put the deareft intereft of fociety at rifk, 
without guilt) and without remorfe ? 

By rejecting the pofts, we light the favage fires ; we 
Jbixid the viAlmt. This day we undertake to render 
account to the widows and orphans whom our deciiion 
will make, to the wretches that will be roafted at the 
^ke, to our country, and I do not deem it too ferioifii 
to fay, to confcience, and to God. We are anfwera- 
ble ; and if duty be any thing more than a word of 
impofture i if confcience be not a bug- bear, we are pre- 
ipring to make ourfelves as wretched as our country. 

There is no miftake Jn this cafe ; there can be none. 
Experience has already been the prophet of eTcnts, and 
the cries of our future vidlims have already reached u£. 
The weftem inhabitants are not a fitent and uncon)- 
plaining facrifice. 1 he voice of humanity iiTlTes froA 
^e (hade of the wilderqefs. It ej^claims, that while 
one hand is held up to reject thb treaty, the other 
grafps a tomahawk. It fummons our imagination to 
the fcenep that will open. It is no great effort of thie 
imagination to conceive that events to near are already 
begun. I can fancy that I liften to the yells of ikvage 
vengeance and the ihrieks of tbrture. Already they 
fcem to figh in the weftern wind ; already they min- 
gle with every echo from the mounttins. 

Let me cheer the mind> weary^ no doubt, ^nd ready 
to defpond on this profpeA, by prefenting another, 
which is yet in our power to realize. Is it pqSible for 
a real Ai^erican to look at the profperity of this coun- 
try witb^out fome defire for its continuance, without 
&me refpeA for the meafures, whichj many will fay, 
produced, and aU istrill confefs, have preferved it ? WUl 
ke not feel fome dread that a change of fyftem will re- 
verfe thie fccne ? The well-grounded fears of our citi- 
zens>in 1794, were removed by the treaty, but are not 
forgotten. Then they deemed war neariy inevitaWc ; 
and would not this adjuftment have been confidered at 
^at day as a happy efcape from the calamity ? 


The great intereft and the general deiire of our peo- 
ple was to enjoy the advantages of. neutrality. This 
inftrament, however mifreprefentedi affords America 
that ineftimable fecurity. The caufes of our difputes 
are either cut up by the roots, or referred to a new 
negociation, after the end of the European war. Phis 
was gaining every thing, <becaufe it confirmed our neu- 
trality, bywhich our citizens are gaining every thing. 
This alone would juftify the engagements of the gov- 
ernment. For, when the fiery vapours of the war low- 
ered in the fkirts of our horizoui all our wiflies were 
concentrated in this one, that we might efcape the de& 
olation of the ftorm. This treaty, like a rainbow on 
the edge of the cloud, marked to our eyes the fpace 
where it was raging, and afforded at the fame time the 
fure prognoftic of fair weather. If we rejeft it, the vi- 
vid colours will grow pale ; it will be a baleful meteoi: 
portending tempeft and war. 

Let us not hefitate then to agree to the appropriation 
to carry it into faithful execution. Thus we fhall fave 
the faith of our nation, fecure its peace, and diffufe the 
f^ric of confidence and enterprife that will augment its 
"profpcrity. The progrefs of wealth and improvement 
is wonderful, and, forhe witl think, too rapid. The 
field for exertion is fruitful and vaft ; aikl if peace and 
good government (hould be preferv^d, the acquifitions 
of our citizens are not fo pleafing as the proofs of their 
induftry, as the inftruments of their future fuccefs. The 
rewards of exertion go to augment its power. Profit 
is every hour becoming coital. The vaft crop of our 
neutrality is all feed wheat, and is fown again, to fwell 
almoft beyond calculation, the future harveft of pros- 
perity. And in this progrefs, what fecms to be fi^ion 
is found to fall ihort of experience. 

rj 2 


Extract from an Oration prcjnounced 

AT Worcester, (Mass.) July 4, 1796$ by Frak- 
^s Blake, Es(^ 

IN viewing the caules ^j^hich led to the eveat of this 
joyous anniverfary i in tracing the effeAs which 
iiave refnlted to America ; in iearching for the priA- 
ci^s which unpelled to the conteft ) in recalling the 
feelings which Aipported us in the firuggle, it cannot 
&il to occur to us that the caufes have not been con- 
fined to the limits of our continent ^ that the effeAs 
have extended far beyond the boundaries of our nation ; 
that the gloriotis example, with eleArical rapidity, has 
flaihed acrofs the Atlantic ; that, guided by the fame 
principles, c»ndu£led by the fame feelings, the people 
who fo gallantly fought and bled for the fecurity of 
0ur lives and our liberties, are new fighting and bleed- 
*]bg in defence of their own. 

On this day, therefore, religioufly deVDted to the 
confecration of our independence, it becomes us, as the 
votaries of freedom, as friends to'the rights of man, and 
bound to fupport them whenever invaded, to turn our 
attention, with a grateful enthufiafm, to the fcenes of 
their fufierings, their revolt, and their viftories. While 
exulting io the full enjoyment of peace and tranquili- 
ty, ihall not a tear for the unexampled diffarei&s of this 
magnanimous nation, check, for a moment^ the emo* 
lions oE our joy ? 

They have fwomthat they will live FREE or DIE ! 
They haveYolemnly fwom,, that the fword, which hsa 
been drawn in defence of their country, fhall never be 
returned to its fcabbard, till it has fecured to them vi<;^ 
tory and freedom. Let us then breathe forth a fervent 
ejaculation to Heaven, that their vows may be remem- 
bered ; that the caufe of our former allies may not be 
tkferted, till they have fc^urged thehr invaders ; ||H 


they have driven them back in con&Uion to the regions 
of terror, fropi whence they emerged. 

Whil0 we remember with horror the continued ef- 
fufion of blood, which darkened the morning of their 
revolution, let u$ not forget that their vengeance was 
ropfed by the champions of defpotifm, whofe lives have 
fince ju^ly atoned for the crigies they committed. 
While we lament the fangninary fcenes) which cloud- 
ed its progrels, let it not be forgotten that they aroie 
from the bloody manifeflo of a band of tyrants, com.* 
bined for the hellifh purpofe of again rivcttii^the 
chains they had broken. 

The leaguje of Piinitz> like the league of Satan and 
his angels, revolting againft the Maj«fty of heaven, 
was profefledly fabricated, to arteft forever the pro- 
grefs of freedom ; to u&rp the. dominion of Franc^ 
and divide the fpoil among this band of royal plunder- 
ers. Have we not heard that the nobiie, the generous, 
the grateful monarch of the foreft, that fawned at the 
feet of Androcles!} when remembering his former firiend- 
fliip, will ever turn with, fury on his purfuers ^ and 
when robbed of his whelps, refts not tilt his fangs are 
crimfoned in the blood of the aggr^fibr ? 

Shall then the fervor of our ftiendfhip be abated^ 
by remembering the tranfitory frenzy of a people 
diftraflted with the enthuiiarm of freedom, and irritated 
U} madnefs by the dreadful prdpeA of lo$ng what they 
had enjoyed but f (»r a moment i Let it nev(sr be faid 
of us, as of Rome and of! Athens, that ingratitude as 
the common vice of republics. Was it to the crowned 
monarch, named Louis the Sixteenth, or to the peo{^e 
of France^ that we were indebted, for the blood and 
treafbre that were fo profriiely lavxflied in^ our coufe ? 
Shall then their Services be forgotten, in the remem- 
brance of their momentary excefles ? Or fliall we re^ 
fufe our moft cordial concurrence in the feelings which 
impel them to the prefem conteft with the rtiffian go- 
tentateaof Eufope ? 


Can we doubt, for a moment/ which is the caufe we 
are bound to fupport with our fanflion, idien we be- 
hold the winds and the feas, thoft dreadful minifters 
of Heaven^s vengeance, commifioned to ^vaiice their 
progreisi and deluge their enemies ? When we behold 
Arielf with his attendant fpirits, gently hovering over 
their navies, and wafting them to vvftorj on the bofem 
of the ocean ; while Neptune and Boreas have com- 
bined againft the league of their opprefibrs, to over- 
whelm in the deepthefe deluded followers of Pharaoh ! 
HavfC we not feen them fed, as with manna from heav- 
en ) the waters divided, and the walls of Jericho falling 
before them, while the fair profpeA of liberty has led 
them in triumph through the wildemefs, as a cloud by 
day, and a pillar of fire by night ! 

AMERICANS t Let us join in a ferveat fuppltca- 
tion, that the facred charters of humanity, which we 
have once fealed w;th our blood, may be forever pre- 
ierved from the deadly grafp of tyrants. 

FRENCHMEN! Be firm; be undaunted in the^ 
ftruggle you have thus miraculoufly fupported. Evince 
to the world, now gazing with admiration at your ex- 
ploits in the field of battle, that you have virtue equal 
to your courage i that you are friends to the friends of 
humanity ;. that your arms are nerved* only againft the 
enemies of man. ' Let not the facred name of LIBER- 
TY be polluted by the frenzy of licentious paflions ; 
but may your preient glorious conftitution, while it 
proteAs your freedom from the uohallowed ravages of 
tyranny, remain an unfhaken bulwark againft the de« 
firudtive fury of faAioa. 

TYRANTS! Turn from the impious work of blood 
in which your hands are imbrued, and tremble at the 
defperation of your revolting fiibje^ I Repent in iack- 
cloth and aihes* For behold, ye, who have been ex- 
alted up to heaven, ihall, ere long, be caft down to hell I 
The final period of your crimes is rapidly i^proaching. 
The grand POLITICAL MILLENIUM is at hand ^ 


when tyranny (ball l)e buried in rnins $ when all Na- 
tions (hall be united in ONE MIGHTY REPUBLIC! 
when the four angels, that ftand on the four corners 
of the globe, fliall, with one accord, lift up their voic^ 
to heaven ; proclaiming PEACE ON EARTH, AND 

General Description of America* 

Extract from a Poem spoken at Dartmouth 
College, on CoMMEiJ<iEMENT Day, 1795- 

FROM Patagonia's fnow invefled wilds, 
To Darien, where cooi^ant verdure imiles^ 
The Andes meet the moming^s earlieft rayj^ 
Overlook the^louds and check the flood of D^y. 
In copious torrents from th^ir eailem fide. 
Flow the vaft ftreams of Amazonia's tide. 
Roll on majeftic through her boundlefs plain. 
And fwell the furface of the neighboring maA. 
Nor Plata iefs a broad deep channel fills ; 
Danube and Walga by his fide were rills. 
But leave, my roufe,. this wide*>extended clime. 
By nature ftamp'd with all fixe owns fublime^ 
Here (he has. wrought upon her largeft plan, 
But mourns in folitude^the wrongs of man. 
Here Guatemozin writh'd in flames of £re» 
And fl^ughterM millions round their prince expire^ 
Rife, fleeping vengeance ! vindicate their caufe i 
And thou, ilern juiVice, ^execute thy laws ^ 
Te Andes, flrike Hefperian fraud with dread, 
Burft thy volcanoes on the guilty head ! 

Whene Cancer^s fun pours down his arde»t Uaze, 
Draws the Monfoons, and lengthens out his days^ 
The fpaciotts gulf of Mexic' roUs his tide,. 
And thronging fleets of various naittoAs ride. 
The fertile ifles their rich luxuriance |)our. 
And weftern dainties crown the eaftern £hore» 


But ^eq>» humanity, the black difgracCy 
And fpread thy blufhes o'er oppreffions face ! 
Te ions of mirth, your bowls, your richeft food. 
Is mingled withfraternal tears and blood. 
Still groans the flave btneath his mafter's rod. 
But nature, wrong'd, appeals ta nature's GOD. 
The fun frowns angry at th' inhuman fight ; 
The ftars, offended, redden in the night : 
In weftern ikies, drear horror gathers rounds 
And waking vengeance murmurs under ground ^ 
O'er all the gulph the dark'iiing vapors rifcr 
And. the black clouds fail awful round the ikies. 
From heaven to earth fwift thunder-bolts are hurl'd. 
And ilorm's dread demon ihakes th' aftoniih'd worl(|L 
The rich plantation lies a barnm waile^ 
And all the works of ilavery are diefac'd. 
Ye tyrants, own the devaitatibn juft ; 
Tis for your wrpngs the fertile earth is curs'd^ 

Columbia's States unfold their milder fcencs. 
And freedom's realms afford more pleafing themes. 
From Geoirgia's plains, to Hiidfon'& higheft fourcc. 
The northern Andes range their varied courfc : 
Rank above rank, they fwell their growing iize. 
Rear their blue arches,,and invade the ikies. 
Here fpreads a foreil ; there a city fliines ; 
Here fwell the hills, and there a vale declines. 
Here, through the tneads, meand'ring rivers run ; 
There placid lakes refleft the fiill-orb'd fun* 
From mountain iides perennial fountains fTow,^ 
And ftreams majcftic bend their courfe below. 
Here rife the groves y there opes the fertile lawn, 
Freih fragrance breathes, and Ceres waves her com. 
Along the eaft, where the proud billows roar. 
Capacious harbours gr^e the winding ihore : 
The nation's fplendour and the merchants' pride 
Wafts with each gale, and floats with ev'ry tide*' 
From Iroquois to vaft Superior's ilrand,.. 
Spr ead the wide lakes and ipfulate the land^ 


Here growing Commerce fliall unfold her fai1» 
Load the rich bark, and woo the inland gale. 
Far to the weft, where favage hordes refiidei 1 
Smooth Miiflifippi rolls his copious tide, > 

And fair Ohio weds his filver fide. j 

Hail, happy States ! thine is the blifsful feat, . 
Where nature's gifts and art*s improvements meet. 
Thy temp'rate air breathes health j thy fertile foily 
In copious plenty, pays the labourer's toil. 
Aik not for mountains of Peruvian ore, 
Nor court the duft that (hines on Afric's fliore. 
The plough explores for thee the richeft mine ; 
Than autumn's fruit, no goodlier ore can fliine. 
Cer the wide plain and through th^ op'ning gladcy 
Flows the canal obfequious to the fpade. 
Commerce to wealth and knowledge turns the key. 
Floats o'er the land and (ails to ev'ry Tea. 
Thrice happy art I be thy white-fail unfurl'd. 
Not to corrupt, but focialize the world. 

The mufe prophetic views the coming day. 
When federal laws beyond the line (hall fway. 
Where -Spanifh indolence ina^Hve lies. 
And ev'ry art and ev'ry virtue dies ; 
Where pride and avarice their empire fa6l4» 
Ignobly greats and poor amid thetr gold, 
Columbia's genius fliall the mind infpire, 
And fill each breaft with patriotic fire. 
Nor eaft nor weftern oceans ihall confine 
The gen'rous flame that dignifies the mind ; 
O'^r all the earth ihall freedom's banner wave, 
The tyrant blaft, and liberate the flave* 
Plenty and peace (hall fpread from pole to pole, 
Till earth's grand fiunily poScis one foul. 


D1AX.00UB ^ETWBfiN A Master akd Slave. 

M Jf T^T®^» villain ! what iavc yon to lay for 
Majter. j^ this fecond attempt to run away ? Is 
there any punifhment that yoo do not deferve ? 

Slave. I well know that nothing I can fay will 
avail. I fubmit to my fate. 

Mq/f. But are you not a bafe fellow, a hardened 
iand ungrateful rafcal ? 

Slave. I am a flave. That is anfwer enough. 

Mafi. I am not content with that anfwer. I 
thought I difcerned in you fome tokens of a mind (iz- 
i|erior to your condition. I treated you accordingly. 
Vou have been comfortably fed and lodged, not OTer> 
worked, and attended with the moft humane care when 
you were fick. And is this the return ? 

Slave. Since you condefcend to talk with mc, ^ 
man to man, I will reply. What have you done, what 
can you do for me, that willeompenfate for the liberty 
which yoo have taken away i - 

Mqfi. I did not take it away. You were a flave 
when I fairly purchafed you. 

Slave. Did I give my confent to the purchafe ? 

Maft. Tou had no confent to give. Tou had al* 
rekdy loft the right of diipoiing of yourfelf. / 

Slave. I had loft the power, but how the right ? I 
Was treacheroufly kidnapped in my oWn country, when 
following an honeft occupation. I was put in chains^ 
fold to one of your coontrymen, carried by force on 
board his fliip, brought hither, and expofed to (ale like 
a beaft in the market, where you bought me. What 
ftep in all this progrefs of violence and tnjuftice can 
give a right f Was it in the villain who ftole me, in 
the (lave-merchant who tetnpted him to do fo, or in 
you who encouraged the flave-merchant to bring his 
cargo of human cattle to cultivate your lands ? 


M^, It is in the order of Providence that one man 
fhould becoine iubfervient to another. It ever has 
been fo» and ever will be I found the cuftom, and 
did not make it. 

&lave. You cannot but be fe^ifible, that the robb^ 
^ho puts a piftoi to your breaft: may make juft the fame 
plea. Providence gives him a power over your life and 
property ; it gavemy enemies a power over my liberty. 
But it has alfo given me legs to efcape with \ and what 
ihould prevent me from ufing them ? Nay, what fhould 
reftrain me from retaliating the wrongs I have fuffered^ > 
if a favourable occaiion fhould offer ? 
. Maft, Gratitude i I repeat, gratitude I Have I not 
endeavored ever fince I pofTeiTed you to alleviate your 
misfortunes by kind treatment \ and does thdt confer 
no obligation ? Confider how much worfe your con- 
dition might have been under another mafler. 

Slave* You have done nothing for me more than 
for your working cattle. Are they not well fed and 
tended ? do you work them harder than your flti^es ? 
is not the rule of treating both defigned only for your 
own advantage ? You treat both your men and beaft 
flaves better than fome of your neighbours, becaufe you 
are more prudent and wealthy than they. 

Majl, You might add, more humane too. 

Slave. Humane ! Does it deferve that appellation 
to keep your fellow-men in forced fubjedtion, deprii^d 
of all exercife of their firee will, liable to all the inju- 
ries that your own caprice, or the brutality of your 
overfeers, may heap on them, and devoted, foul and 
body, only to your pleaTure and emolument? Can 
gratititide take ^ace between creatures in fuch a ^te; 
and the tyrapt who holds them in it ? Look at theie 
limbs ; are they not thofe of a man ? Think that I 
have the fpirit of a man too. 

Mafl. But it was my intention not only to make 
your life tolerably comfortable at prefem, but to q^-. 
vide for you in your old age. 


Slave. Alas ! is a life like mine« torn from countr]^ 
friends, and all I held dear, and compelled to toil un- 
der the burning fun for a mafter, worth thinking abotit 
for old age ? ^No ; the fooner it -ends, the fooner I 
ihall obtain that relief for which my ibul pants. 

Mafi. . Is it impoffible, then, to hold you by any ties 
but tlH>fe of confiraint and feverity ? 

. S/dve. It is impoifibieto make one, who has fdt the 
value of freedom, acquiefce in being a/flave. 

JUq/f. Suppoft I were to reftore you to your liber- 
ty^ would your reckon thsct a favour ? 

Slave. The greateft ; for ahhough it would, only 
be undoing a wrong, I know too well how few among 
mankind are capable of facrificing intereft to jufiice, 
jiot to prize the exertion when it is made. 

Mq^, I do it, then ; be free. 

^ Slave, .Now I am indeed your iervant, though not 
^Jqur flave. .-Ai^ as the firft return I can make for 
your kindncfs, I will tell you freely the condition in 
wI\tfSh you live. You; are furrounded with implacabte 
foes, rwho long for a fafe opportunity to revenge upon 
.you and the other planters all the miferies they have 
endured. The more generous Hieir natures^ the more 
indignant they ^eel againft that cruel injuftice which 
has dragged them hither, and doomed them to per- 
petual fervitpde. You can rely on no kindnels dn your 
psirt, to*foften the obduracy of tJieir refentment. You 
have reduced them to thedSate of brjufe beafti 5 and if 
they have not the ftupidity of beafts of burden, they 
muft have, the ferocity of beasts of prey. Superior 
force alone. <:an give you feburity. As foon as that 
^$1 you are at the mercy of the merdlefs; Such 19 
the focial bond between maiftcr and flave ! 



Part of Mr. O'Connor's Speech in the 
Irih. House of Commons, in Favour of the 
Bill for. emancipating the Roman Catho- 
lics, 1795, 

IF I were to judge from the dead fif^nce^with 'which 
rrty fpeech has been received, I fliould fufpeft that 
what I have faid was not very palatable to fome men 
in this Houfe. But I have not riOced connexions, en- 
deared to me by every tie of blood and friend fliip, to 
fupport one fet of men in preference to another. I 
iiave hazarded too much, by the part 1 have taken, to 
allow the breath of calumny to taint the objefts I have 
had in view. Immutable principles, on which tfic 
happinefs and liberty of my countrymen depend, conr 
vcy to my mind the oniy fi'ibftantial boon for which 
great facfifices (hould be made. 

.And I here avow myfelf the zealous aad enrneft 
advocate for the moft unqualified emancipation of my 
catholic countrymen 5. in the hope and conviction, thai 
the monr>poly of the rights and liberties of my country, 
which has hitherto effc^uall|twithftood the efforts of 
a part of the people, muft yield to the unanimous will, 
to the decided intereft, and to the general effort of a 
whole united people. It is from this conviflion, and 
it is for that tranfcendently important objeft, that, 
while the noble Lord and the Right Honorable Secre- 
tary, are offering to rifk their lives and fortunes in sup- 
port of a fyftem that miiUates againfl the liberty of my 
countrymen, I will rifk every thing dear to me on eaf th. 
It is for this great obje<tt I have, I fear, more thaa 
riiked connexions dearer to me than life itfelf. But 
he muft be a fpiritlefs man, and this a fpiritlefsnatioriy 
not to refent the bafenefs of a Britifh ^inifter,. whoho^ 
raifed our hopes in, order to feduce a rival to fhare with 
him the diigrace of this accurfed political cruiiide, and 
blaft theiaafterwardsj that he may degrade a cos^petitor 


to the ftatk>n of a dependant. And, that he may dies- 
ftroy friendihip whrch his nature never knew, he has 
fported with tlie feelings of a whole nation. Raifing 
the cup with one hand to the parched lip of expeAancy, 
he has dafhed it to the earth with the other, in all the 
wantonnefs of infult, and with all the aggravation of 

Does he imagine, that the people of this eotintry, 
after he has tantalized them wfth the cheerimg hope of 
prefent allcviatioB, and of futtire prof^ity, will tamely 
f)ear to be forced to a re-endurance of their former 
fiiSerlngs, and to a re-appointment ef their former 
ipoilers ? Does he, from confidence of long fuccefs in 
debauching the luiman mind, exa£l from yen, calling 
ypurfehos the reprefentativcs of the people of Ireland, 
to rcjeft a bill, which has received the unanimous con- 
fent of your conftituents? or does he mean to piJZ2le 
the verfatile difpofition of this Houfe, on which heJias 
iTsade fo many fuccefsful experiments already, by difi- 
tracing yon between obedience to his imperious maa* 
date?, and obedience to the will of the people yoa 
ihould reprefent ? 

Or does he flatter himfelf, that he fliall now fucceed^ 
bccaufe he ha* fucceeded in betraying his own country, 
into exchanging that peace, by which (he might hare 
retrieved her fliattered finances, for a war, in which he 
has^ f()uandered twenty times a greater treafure, in the 
courfe of two years, than with all his fatned economy, 
he had been able to fave, in the courfe of ten } for a 
war in which the prime youth of the world have been 
bflfered up, victims to his ambition ai:d bis fchemes,a$ 
bodndlefs and prefumptuousj as ill* concerted and ill- 
combined ; for a war in which the plains of every nation 
in Europe have been crimfoned with oceans of blood j 
Ibr a war in which his country has i;eaped nothing but 
difgrace, and which muft- ultimately prove her ruin ? 

Does he flatter himfelf, that he ihall be enabled, 
Satan like, to end hh political career by involving the 
— '-oie empire in a civU war, from which nothing can 


accrue, but a doleful and barren conqueft to the victor f 
I truft the people of England are too wife and too juft 
to attempt to force nieafores upon us which they would 
themfdveseejeA with> dtfdain. I truft they have not 
themlelves fb feon forgotten the leiTon they fo recently 
learned from America, which (hould ferve as a lading 
example to nations, againft employing force to fubdue 
the fpirit of a people determined to be free ! 

But if they (hould be fo weak, or h wicked, as to 
fuffer themfelves to be feduced by a roan, to whofe 
foul, duplicity and finefle are as congenial, as ingenuouf- 
nefs and fair dealing is a ftranger, to become the inftru-^ 
ments of fupporting a few odious puUic charaAers in 
power and rapacity, againft the intereft and againft the 
fenfe of a whole people y if we are to be dragooned 
into meafures againft our will| by a nation that would 
lofe her laft life, and expend her laft guineai in refent* 
ing a iimilar infult, if ofiered to berfeif, I truft (he will 
find in the people of tins country a fpirit in no wife in- 
ferior to her own. 

You are at this moment at the moft awful period of 
your lives. The MiniAer of England ha,s committed 
you with your country ; and on this night your adop- 
tion or rejection of this bill, muft determine, in the 
eyes c( the Irifh nation, which ycu reprefent, the Mi- 
nifter of Englsuid, or the people of Ireland I And, al- 
though you are convinced, you do not reprefent^e 
people of Ireland j although you are convinced, e*ry 
man of you, that you are (elf-created, it does not alter 
the nature of the conteft ; it is ftill a conteft between 
the Minifter of England and the people of Ireland ^ 
and the weaknefs of your title (hould only make you 
the mote circum(pe6t in the excrcife of your power. 

Fortunately, the views of the Briti(h Minifter have 
been dere&ed ; fortunately, the people of this country 
fee him in his true colours. Likethe defperate gamefter, 
who has loft his all, in the wildeft fchemes of aggran- 
dizement, he looks round for fome dupe to fuppLy him 
wfith the further mcaas of future projefts 5 and in the 
w % 


crafty iubtlenefi of his fiiul, bt fondly imagines, he has 
found that eafjT dupe in the credulity of the Iriih natiost.. 
After he has exhaufted his own country in a cru£i<te 
against that phantom, political opinion^ he flatters hiai>. 
felf he (hall be enabled to refufcitate her at the ex- 
penfe of yours. 

As you value the peace and happinefe of yourcouiN 
try i as you f alue the rights and liberties of the foil 
that has given you birth ; and if you are not loft to 
every fenfe of feeling for your own confequence and 
importance as nu^, 1 call on yon this night to make 
;^ur ftand. I call on you to ratiy round the independ* 
ence of your country, whofe exiftence has been fo art* 
fuUy afTailed. Believe me, the Briti(h Minifier wiU 
leave you in the lurch, when he fees that the people 
of this nation are too much in earneft to be tricked out 
of their rights, or the independence of their country. 

What a display of legifiation have we had on this 
night ? Artificers who neither know the foundation on 
which they work, the inflrumems they ought to ufe» 
Aor the materials required I Is it on the narrow bails 
of monopoly and excluiion you would ere^ a temple 
to the growing liberty of your country ? If you will le- 
giflate } knowj that on the broad ba§s of immutable jttf* 
tice only, you can raife a lading, beauteous ten){iie to 
the liberty of your ifiand j whole ample bafe iHiiall lodge, 
und whole roof (hall ihelter her united family from the 
ramlling inclemency of reje£lion and exclufion. Know, 
that reafon is that iilken thread by which the lawgiver 
leads his people ^ and above all, know, that in the 
knowledge of the temper of the public mind, confiAs 
thfi ikiU and the wifdom of the kgiilator. 

Do not imagine that tl^e minds of your countrymen 
have been ft-ationary, while that (^all Europe has been 
rapidly progreifive *, for you muft be blind not to per- 
ceive, that the whQ4e Etu^pean mind has undergone a 
(evolution, neither confined to this nor to that country $ 
but as. general as the great caufes which have given it 
birth, arid ftill continue toiecd its growth. In vain do 


tlneie men, who fubfift bat on tlie abtiTtt of the goirerh- 
m«nt xtndet which they live, flatter themfeivest that 
what we hxwe fecn the£s laft fix yean is but the fetcr 
of the mooieoti which will pa& away as foon as th^ 
patient has been let Uood enough. 

As well may they attempt to alter the coiirfe of na' 
ture, without altering her laws. If they would effeA 
a cCRinter revolution in the European mind, they muft 
deftroy commerce and its effefks j they muft aboIi& 
every trace of the mariner's compafs \ they muft con* 
iSgn every book tor the flames; they muft obliterate 
every veftige of the invention of the prefs } they mnfi 
deftroy the conduit of intelligence^ by deftroying the 
inftitution of the poft oflkd. Then, and not tiU then, 
they and their abufes may live en, in all the (ecurit7> 
which ignorance, fuperftkion, and want of concert in 
Mie people can beftow. 

But while I would overwhelm with defpair thofc 
men who have been nuried in the lap of venality and 
proftitutton ; who have beeneducatecKtn contempt and 
ridicule of a love for their country ; and who have 
.grown grey in fcoffing at every thing like public fpirtt^ 
let me congratulate every true firiend to mankind, that 
that commerce, which has begotten ib much independ* 
ence, will continue to beget more ; and let me congra^ 
tulate every friend to theliuman fpecies, that the pre&» 
which has fent fiich a md& of information into the 
world, will ccmtinue, with accelerated rapidity, to pour 
&rth Its treaf»re#To beneficial to mankind. 

It is to theife great caufes we are indebted, that the 
combination of priefts and defpots, which fe long ly^ 
rannized over the civil and political liberty of Europe, 
has been diflblved. It is t^ thefe great canies we are 
indebted, that no prieft, be his religfton what it may» 
dares preach the doctrine which inculcates the neceflity 
of facrificing every right and every ble£Sng this world 
can a^ord, as the only mean of obtaining eternal ha^-^ 
|)ineis in the lifeto Gonxe. 


This was the doctrine by which the derpotifm of 
Europe was fo long fupported $ this was the doctrine 
by which the political popery of Europe was fiipport- 
ed.; but the dodrine and the defpotiim may now fleep 
in the fame grave, until the trumpet of ignorance, fu^ 
perftitioB, and bigotry, ihall (bund their refurredion. 

Enter Omar and Tamerlane. 

Omar. T TONOR and feme 
^Bowing. jTjL Forever wait the Emperor: may our 

Give him ten thoufand thoui^nd days of life. 
And every day like this. The captive fultan, 
Fierce in his bonds, and at his fate repining, 
Attends your facred will. 

Tamerlane. Let him approach. 
lEnter Bajazet, and other ^nrkt/b prifoners in chain r^ 

nmth a guard, 2 
When I furvey the ruins of this field. 
The wild deftru£li(», which thy fierce ambition 
Has dealt among mankind \ (fo many widows 
And helplefs orphans has thy battle made. 
That half our eaftern wortd this day arc mourners \) 
Well may I, in bthalf of heaven and earth. 
Demand from thee atonement for this wrong. 

Bajazet. Make thy demand of ttfbfe that own tl^ 
Know I am ftill beyond it \ and though fortune 
Has ftript me of the train and pomp of greatnefs, 
That outfide of a king ; yet ftill my foul, 
Fix'd high, and of itfelf alone dependent. 
Is ever free and royal ; and even now. 
As at the head of battle, does defy thjce* 
I know what power the chance of war has given, « 
And dare thee to the ufe on't» This vile fpeeching, 
'his aiter-game of words, is what mod irks me $ 


Spare thati apd for the^ re(t 'tis eqifal all. 
Be it as it may. 

T'am, Well was it for the world, 
Wherii on their borders, neigbbouritig princes met. 
Frequent in friendly parle, by cool debates 
Preventing wafieful war : fuch ihould our meeting 
Have been, hadft thou but held in juft regard 
The fanftity of leagues fo often fworn to. 
Canft thoti believe thy Prophet, or, what's more. 
That Power fnpreme, whichmadethee and thy Prophet^, 
Will, with impunity, let pafs that breach 
Of facred faith given to the royal Greek ? 

341J, Thou pedant talker ! ha ! art thou a kidg 
Poflefs'd of facred power, Heaven's darling attribute, ^ 
And doft thou prate of leagues, and oaths, and propketsl 
I hate the Greek, (perdition on his name !) 
As I do thee, and would have metyou both. 
As death does human nature, for deftrpftion. 

T/im. Caufejefs to hate, is not of human kind : 
The favage brute, that haunts in woods remote 
And defert wilds, tears not the fearful traveller. 
If hunger, or fome injury, provoke not. 

£aj. Can a king want a caufe, when empire bids 
Gp on ? What is he born for, but ambition ? 
It is his hunger, 'tis his call of nature. 
The noble appetite which will be iatisfy'd. 
And, like the food of gods, makes him immortal. 

Tam. Henceforth I will tiot wonder w^ were foes. 
Since fouls that differ fo by nature, hate. 
And ftrong antipathy forbids their union. 

£aj. The noble fire, that warms me, does indeed 
Tranfcend thy coldnefs. I am pleas'd we differ, 
Nor think alike. 

Tarn. No : for I think like man, 
Thou like a monfler, from whofe baleful prefence 
Nature ftarts back ; and though fhe fi&'d her (lamp 
On thy rough mafs, and mairk'd thee for a man. 
Now, confcious of her error, ihc difclaims thee, 
As form'd for her deftruAion. 


'Tis true, I am a king, as thou haft been^ 

Honor and glory too have been my aim ; 

But though I dare face death, and all the i^oigtrs 

Which furious war wears in its Woody front. 

Yet would I choofe to fix my name by peace. 

By juftice, and by mercy ; and to raife 

My trophies on the bleffings of mankind: 

Nor would I buy the empire of th© worki 

With ruin of the people whom I ^wayv 

On forfeit of my honor. 

BaJ. Prophc^, I thank thee. 
Confufion 1 couldft thou rob me of my glory 
To drefs up this tame king, this preaching dervifit i 
Unfit for war, thou fhouldft have liv'd feeure 
In lazy peace, and with debating fenates 
Shared a precarious Tceptre j fat tamely dill, 
And let bold fadicas canton out thy power 
And wrangle fyr the fpoils they robb'd thee o^; 
Whilft I, (O blaft the power that ftops my ardor) 
Would, like a tempeft, rufh amidft the nations. 
Be greatly terrible, and deal, like Alha, 
My angry thunder op the frighted world* 

Tam* The world ! 'twould be too little for thy pridd^V 
Thou, wouldft fqale heaven. 

Baj, I would. Away ! my fouL 
Difdains thy conference. 

Tarn, Thou vairi, rafh thing. 
That, with gigantic infolence, haft dar'd 
To lift thy wretched felf above the ftars. 
And mate with power almighty, thou art fall'n ! 

Bof. 'Tis falfe ! Lam not fallen from aught I have 
' been I 
At leaft my foul refolves to keep her ftate, 
And fcori^ to make acquaintance with ill fortune. 

Tarn, Almoft beneath my pity art thou fall'n } 
Since, while th' avenging hand of Hcav'ais on thee. 
And prcflcs to the duft thy fwelling foul. 
Fool-hardy, with the ftronger thou comendcft* . 
To what vaft heights had thy tumultuous temper 


Been horry'd, if fucceft Bad et>ownfd ^hy wifliesf 
Say, what had I to exped:, if ihoo hadft conquered ? 

Baj. Oh, glorious^thought ! Ye powersy I will ^n- 
Though but in fancy: imagination ifaaU [joy ity 

Make room to entertain thc^aft idea, . . 
Oh ! had I been the matter istit oi yefterday. 
The world, the world had felt me; and jR»r ^tbee^ 
I had ufed thee, as thou art to me, a dog. 
The objeft of my fcorn and mostal hatred. 
I would have cag'd thee for the fcorn of flave^. 
I would b$rve taught thy n^k to know my weight. 
And mounted from that footftool to the raddle : 
Till thou hadft -bcg^'d to die ; ^nd c*en ttat mercy 
I had den/d thee. Now thou knoWft my mind^ 
And queftion me no farther. 

Tarn. Well doft thou teach me 
Whatjuftice ihbuld exaA from thee. Mankind 
With one confentf cty out for vengeance on thee^ 
Loudly they o^lto tntoS this league-breaker^ 
This wild deftroyer, from the face of earth. 

Baj. Do it, and rid thy Shaking foul at once 
Of its worft fear. 

Tarn, Why flept the thunder 
That fhould have arm'd the idol deity, 
And given thee power, ere yeftcr fun was fet, 
To ihake the foul of Tamerlane. Hadft thou an arm 
To make thee fear'd^thoufhouldft have prov'd iton me, 
Amidft the fweat and blood of yonder field. 
When, through the tumult of the war, I fought thee, 
Fenced in with nations. 

Baj. Oh, bl^ft the ftars 
That fated us to difierent fcenes of flaughter ! 
Oh ! could my fword have met thee ! 

Tarn. Thon hadft then^ 
As now, been in my power, and held thy life 
Dependent on my gift« Yes, Bajaaet, 
I' bid thee live. So much my foul diftiainf 
That thou fhooldft tUinkI can firar augfat but Heaven. 
Nay more \ conldft tbou^ forget thy brutal &rcei]«&, 


And form thyfetf to manheod, I would bid theo 
Live and %c ftill a king» that thou mayft leam 

What man ihould be to man . 

This royal tent, with fuch of thy domeftics 
As can be found> Ihall wait upon thy fervice ; 
Nor will I ufe my fortune to demand 
Hard terms of peace ; but fuch as thou mayft ofier 
With honor, I with honor may receive. 

Colonel Barre's Speech in the British 
Parliament, 1765, on the Stamp- Act Bill, 

ON the firft reading of the bill, Mr. Townfend 
fpoke in its favour ; and concluded wkh the fol- 
lowing words ; " And will thefe Americans, children 
planted by our care ; nouriihed tip by our indulgence 
until they arc grown to a de^ce of ftrcngth and opu« 
lence : and protcfted by our arms 5 will they grudge 
to contribute their mite, to relieve us from the heavy 
weight of that burthen which we lie under ?-* 

On this Colonel Barre rofe, and anfwered Mr. 
Towfbnd in the following mafterly manner. 

« They planted by YOUR cxre !" No ; your op- 
^reffibns planted them in America. They fled Srom 
your tyranny, to a then uncultivated and unhofpitabte 
country, where they expofed themfelves to aloioft all 
the. hard (hips to which human nature is liable ; and 
among others to the cruelties of a favage foe, the moft. 
fubtle, and I will take upon me to fay, the moft for- 
midable of any people upon the face of the earth ; and 
yet a£hiated by prkiciples of true Englifli liberty, they 
met all hardfliips with pleafure, compared with thofe 
they fufiered in their own country, from the hands of. 
thofe who ihould have been their friends. 

« They nouriflxed up by YOUR indulgence P* They 
grew by your negleA of them. As foon as you began 
to care about them, that care was exercifed in fendmg^ 


perfons to rule them, in one department and another, 
who were, perhaps, the depiities of deputies to fome 
members of this Houfe, fent to fpy out their liberties, 
to mifreprefent their actions, and to prey upon them ; 
men, whofe behaviour, on many occaiions, has caufed 
the blood of thofe fons of liberty to recoil within them ; 
men promoted to the hfgheft feat of juftice j fome, 
who, to my knowledge, were glad, by going to a for- 
eign country, to elcape being brought to the bar of a 
court of juftice in their own. 

^* They proteftcd by YOUR arms !" They have 
nobly taken up arms in your defence ; have exerted a 
valour, amidft their conftant and laborious induftry, for 
the defence of a country, whofe frontier was drencked 
in blood, while its interior parts yielded all its little 
favings to your emoluments. 

And, believe me j remember I this day told you fb, 
that the fame fpirit of freedom, which adluated that 
people at firft, will accompany them ftill. But pru- 
dence forbids me to explain myfelf further. Heaven 
knows, I do not at this time fpeak from motives of 
party heat ; what I deliver are the genuine fentiments 
of ifty heart. 

However fuperior to me in general knowledge and 
experience the refpeftable body of this Houfe may be, 
yet I claim to know more of America than moft of 
you, having feen and been converfant in that country. 
The people, I believe, are as truly loyal as any fubjeds 
the king has ; but a people jealous of their liberties^ 
and who will vindicate them, if ever they ihould be 
violated. But the fubjisA is too delicate^ I will fay nt> 

The Last Day. 


^M ''HE day of Doom, tlie all-important day, 

M I fing ; that link extreme of time, which joms 
The meafttr'ti chain of days, and months, and years^ 
To one eternal, one effulgent day : 
Day to the children of the day.;, but night, 
Eternal night, to all the fons of darkneis. 
The time affix'd by €k)d'8 decree arrives. 
.Th' Almighty fpake : heaven open'd wide^her gates. 
Tht'herald, Gabriels far advanced in fronts 
Raised on ieraphic ^ings,^ft ifiued forth. 
Next the creation's Sire, veil'd in a cloud 
Of awful gloom, from which red lightnings flalh'dy 
And rending thunders roar'd, pafi'd through the gates. 
At his right hand fat his eternal Son, 
High raii'd upon a golden throne embo(?d 
With gems, that fparkled through the cloud. Angels 
And faints, the countlefs hoft of thoie, who hold 
ThCr realms of bUfs, neM in proceffion moy'd: 
Nor cjDuId th^ wide-extended fpace from Aries 
To die fcales,. that poife the hemifpheFes, 
Contain the army of the fkies. 

Thcearth had never feen a larger hofV, 
Than When the Toe ^f XSreece fpread o'er the land 
And fea from Hebrus to Thermopylae ; 
But this was fmall compar'd with what the .heavens 
Now. fa w, as earth is fmall compar'd with heaven. 
The numerous flars, that hold their courfe along 
The milky- way, and in the neighboring fkies. 
No fooner faw their maker clotk'd in fiorms. 
And felt his thunder fhake their foIidTpheres, 
Than trembling they retire. ; as when fome king 
Enrag'd frowns on his flaves, who flee his face. 
Till he commands them fland and hear his wilh 
^o had the frighted (hrs fled off* and left 



The mundane fpace all void, had not the truttip 

Of Gabriel tnterpos'd, and with a voice 

More loud, than ever yet creation heard,- 

Imprefs'd the mandates of all nature's God >j 

Upon all nature's works. Ye ftars ! (faid he) 

Return, and hold your ftation in your orbs; 

There Aand and fee what He on earth traniiQs__ ________ 

This day, and witnefs how He deals witTi man. 

Thou fun ! who from the birth of time haft roU'd 

Thy chariot round the world, and flied thy beams i 

Alike on all mankind, look on and fee ! 

The equal juftice of thy God to man I 

Outihine tl.y equal rays. Th^ affrighted earth I 

Took the alarm of heaven \ the atmoiphere- - 

Aflay^ to flee upon the wings of ftorm. 

Fierce tempefts beat the lofty mountain's fides. 

Sweep forefts down, and fpread deftrudtion o'er 

The works of man. The troubled ocean' heaves : 

His furging billaws mingle with the clouds : 

Hisdcepeft caverns lie expos'd to view. 

The earth, convulsed from her deep centre, heates. 

Order forfbok the world : difcord fpread wide. 

The confus'd elements again had join'd 

The liftlefs empi:-e of primeval chaos. 

Had not harmonic founds afiuag'd their tumult. 

Spirit divine ! thou foul of harmony 
In heaven and earth,breathe through my lines and fpeak 
The power of mufick*s charms, when heavenly love 
Warm'd every bread of angels, feraphim. 
And doubly glow'd in the Almighty's Son ; 
Who, like a ^idegroom clad in fmiliug youth 
And robes of peace, prepar'd to meet his bride. 
The lightnings ceas'd j the thunders died, when lie 
Complacent unil'd. Gabriel, and all the dhoir- 
Of heaven, faid he, hulh the commoved world. 
And wake the fleeping faints with founds of peace. 
His words, like melting mufic flow'd : his face. 
More radiant than the vernal morn, that fmile& 
The earth to joy. The trump of Gabriel led 


The choral fong : nnfittinber'd harps of gold^ 
•And voices fweet join'd the melodious foundt 
Difcordy that late had mov'd the elements 
To war, and 'gan t' invade the fpheres, 
Was hufh'd to fleep. Quick changed the fcenr^ 
Trom raging difcord, univerfal ftorm^ 
To ibothing founds, and univerfal calm. - 
The fun, from blackeft clouds, unveiPd his faee. 
And fhone with double radiance on the earth. 
The fixed ftars had ceas'd to (hed their beams. 
And trembling, hid in fable darknefe, (lood ; 
But now, enraptur'd with fymphonious founds. 
They dart their genial rays, and fill their orbs 
With pleafing light, and foul-rcviving warmth. 
But thou, O Earth, moft felt the pleafing change. 

Fierce dorms were mute. 

Old ocean heard, and fmooth*d his temped face ; 
And fpring-like beauty fmil'd on all the earth. 

Poets have fung of Orpheus' potent lyre ; 
Eurydicd forc'd from the bands of death. 
Of bending trees and moving rocks obsequious 
To the found. But now whole worlds obey« 
Death could not hold his victims in the tomb. 
*« Thou monarch of the grave, refign thejuft ! 
Awake ! ye faints, from your long night of fleep, 
Adorn'd with ever-blooming youth and robes 
Of heavenly innocence. Salute the morn 
Of everlafting day." Thus fang the choir. 
. Death's dreary manfions heard with fad difmry. 
In the mid regions of eternal night, 
There fits the ghaftly monarch on his throne. 
Subftantial darknefs fills the broad domain : 
Heart- chilling vapours rife from noxious lakes. 
His fervants. War, Intemp'rance, Plague, Revenge, 
Confumption, wrinkled Age, groan difcord round 
His throne, and offer up their loathfome fumes 
Of putrid corps, contagion, deadening blafis ; 
Sweet incenfe to their king 9 or run before 
'is griily fteed, when he rides o'er the earth 


And crops with chilling hand the bloom o£lifr; 

Here reigns the awful monarch of the dead y 

When the full found fpread thro' his darkfome realms, 

His heart appal'd, he trembles on his throne : 

His iron nerves relax-^zhi* feeptre-falls. 

The faints reteas'di their dreary manfions leave ^ 

But 0>how chang'd I 

No cumbrous load of grofler elements. 

But pute aeViai forms theii^ fods poflfefs ; 

Forms, like the glorious body of their Lord, 

Gtowing with beauty and immortal bloom. 

A* Dialogue on Loqux\oixy, 

jB/7/^r Stephen. 

St^hen, J ADlEa and gentlemen, you liaveprob^ 
I J . ably heard or Foote,.the. comedian : if 
not, it is out of my power to tell you any thing about 
him, except this j he had^but op© leg, and his name 
was Samuel. Or, to f^eak more poetically, one leg 
he had j and Samuel was his name. This Foote wrote 
a -ferce, called the Alderman V, in which he attemptecfe 
to ridicule a well-fed m^giftrate of the city of Lond6n. 
This laft, hearing of theintended affront, called upon 
the player^ and threatened him fcvercly for his pre- 
fumption. Sir, fays Eboie, it is my bufinefs to take off 
people. You ihaii fee how well I can take rayfelf off, , 
So out of the room he went, as though to' prepare. 
The Alderman fet waiting, and waiting, and waiting, 

and-^- thave forgotten the reft of the ftory; 

hut it ended very comically. So I muft rcqueft of, you, 
to mufter up your wit, and each one end the ftory to 
his own liking. You are all wondering what this 
ftory leads to. Why, Fll tell 'you ; FdoteV farce was 
called the Alderman; ours is called the Medley; his 
was written according to rule, ours iscompofed at loofe 
ends. Yet loofras it is, you will find it made up, like 


all other pieces, of aouns, pronouns, verbf, paftkipUs^ 
adverbs, conjunctions, articles, adjectives, prepoiitionsy 
and interjections. Now, words are very harmleis 
tbmgs ; though I confe6 that much depends upon the 
manner of putting them together. The only thing to 
be fettled is, that, if you fliould diflike the arrange- 
ment, you will pleafe to alter it, till it fuits you. 
Enter Truman. 

Truman^ What are you prating about, at fuch a rate ? 

StefL I am fpeaking of Sam Foote, and prepofi- 
tions, and adverbs, and many other great characters. 

Tru. Now, don't you know, that your unruly 
tongue will be the ruin of you ? Did you ever fee a man 
who was foaming and frothing at the mouth as you are, 
that ever faid any thing to the purpofe ? You ought 
always to think before you fpeak, and to confider well 
t\> whom you f^ak, and the place and time of fpeaking. 

Steph, Pray who taught you all this worldly wifdom ? 

Tm. My own experience, Sir ; which is faid to be 
the bed fchool-mafler in the world, and ought to teach 
it to every man of common fenfe. 

StepL Then do hot imagine that you poilefs any 
great fecrct, <* Keep your tongue between your teeth*' 
is an old proverb, rufted and cruftcd over, till nobody 
can tell what it was firft made of. Prudence, indeed, 
teaches the fame. So prudence may teach a merchant 
to keep his veilbls in port for fear of a ftorm at fea. 
But <* nothing venture, nothing have" is my proverb. 
Now, fuppofe all the world fhould adopt this prudence, 
what z. multitude of mutes we fhould have ! There 
would be an end of news, law-fuits, politics, and ibci- 
ety. I tell you. Sir, that bufy tongues arc like main 
fprings 5 they fet every thing in motion. 

Tru. But vr here's a man's dignity, all this time, while 
his tongue is running at random, witlioul a fingle 
thought to guide it ? 

SitfpL His dignity !. that.indeed ! Out upon psarolCf 
where it ought to be. A man's dignity ! as though 
we came into the world to flipport dignity, and by an 


affeAed dtftaike) to make onr fiinids feel their inferi- 
ority. I cbnfider men like coins^ whieh^ becaufe 
ftamped with men's heads, pafs for more than they 
are worth. And when the world is willing to treat a 
man better than he deierves, there is a meannefs in en- 
deavoring to extort more from them. 

3Vi/., But fhair a man fpeak without thinking ? Did 
you ever read the old proverb, <^ Think twice, before 
you fpeak once ?" 

Steph. Tesy and a vile one it is. If a man fpeak 
from the impulfe of the moment, he'll fpeak the mean>- 
ing of his heart ; and will, probably fpeak the truth. 
But if he mind your mufty proverb, there will be 
more pros and cons in his head, more hams 'and haws 
m his delivery, than there are letters in his fentences. 
To your fly, fiibtle, thinking feUovirs,. we owe all the 
lies, cheatmg, hypocrify, and double dealing there is 
in the world. 

Tru. But you know that every fufoje6t has its fides ; 
and we ought to examine, refleft, analy^, fift, cpnfider, 
and determine, before we have a right to fpeak ; iat 
the world are entitled to the befl: of our thoughts. 
What would you think of a tradefman, who fhould fend 
home your coat, boots, or hat, half finilhed ? You might 
think him a very honeft-hearted fellow \. but you'd ne- 
ver employ him again. 

Steph, Now, was there any need of bringing in 
tailors, cobblers, and hatters, to help you out ? They 
have nothing to do with thb fubjed. 

Tru. Tou don't underfland me. I. fay, if yon 
would never employ fuch workmen a fecond time, why 
ibould you juftify a man for turning out his dioughts 
half fini(hed ? The mind labours as a£h]ally in thinking 
upon and maturing a fubje£^ as the , body does in the 
field, or on the fh<^board. And, if the farmer know^ 
when his grain is ready forthe fickle, and the mechanic^ 
when his work is ready for his cuftomer, the man, who 
is ufed to thinking knows when he is mailer of his 


fubje£t» and the pioper tinae to communicate his 
thoughts with eafe to himfclf and advantage to others. 

SiepL All this is eicaping the (ubjeS. None of 
your figures^, v^en the very original is before yoo« 
You talk about a man's mind, juft as if it weror a 
piece of ground, capable of bearing flax^ and hemp. 
You have fairly brought forward a fhop-boavd^ and 
mounted your tailor upon it ! Now I' have no notion 
of any crofs-legged work in my inner man. In h€k, 
I don't underftand all this pcocefs of thinking.^ My 
knowledge upon all ibbjeds is very near the root of my 
tongue, and I feel g|:tsat relief, when it gets near the tip»* 

Tru. Depend on it, that thoufands have loft fame 
and even^life by^too great freedonv of fpeech.. Trea- 
fons, murderS) and robberies, have been generally di& 
covered by^the imprudent boafting of the perpetrators. 

Stepht Depend: on ifi, that our ^ivorld has fufiered 
far more by iHent, than by prattling knaves. Suppofe 
overy man were to fpeak all his thoughts, relate all his 
aftions, declare all his purpofes, wouM the world be ia 
danger of crimes ^ No ; be adured, that magiftrates, 
bailiffs, thief takers, prtibns, halters, and gallows, aH 
owe their dignity ta the contrivance of .your fly, plod- 
ding mutes.. 

Tru. You; have let off ft^m the tip of your tongue 
a picked company of dignified fubftantives ; but take 
notice that my doArine does not extoid to the midnight 
filence of robbers ; but to a^due caution and referve ia 
conveying our thoughts to the world. And this I hope • 
ever to obferve. Aiid if you determine on a difierent 
courfe^ reft affured^ that the conferences will not be 
very pleafant. lExit 

St^. Confequences ! Tbat^s counting cUckensbe- 
ferothey are hatched. Dignity of human nature \ 
Pretty words ! juft fit to be ranked, with the homr-of 
tfaieves,.auKl the courage of modern duellifts. 


American Sages. 

SEE on yon dark'ning height bold Franklin tread, 
Heav'ns awful thunders rollin|[ o'er his head ; 
Convolving clonds^ the billowy ikies deform, 
And forky flames emblaze the blackening jlorm. 
See the defcending flreams around him hum. 
Glance on his rod, and with his guidance turn ^ 
He bids confliAitig heav'ns th^ir blafts expire. 
Curbs the fierce blaze, and holds th* imprifon*d fire. 
No more, when folding ftorms the vault o'erfpread. 
The livid glare fh^l ftrike thy £iace with dr^ad 5. 
Nor tow'rsHor temples, fliudd'ring with the found. 
Sink in the flames, and fpread deftruftion round. 
His daring toils, the threatening blafls that wait. 
Shall teach mankind to ward the bolts of fate $ 
The pointed fteel, o^ectop th' afcending fpire, 
•And lead o'er trembling walls t^e harmlefs fire ; 
In his glad fame whije diftant worlds rejoice. 
Far as the lightnings flfme, or thunders raife their voice- 
See the fage Rittenhoufe, with ardent eye. 
Lift the long tube and piqrce the ftarry Iky : 
Clear in his view the circling fyftems roll. 
And broader fplendors gild the central pole. 
.He marks what laws th' eccentric wand'rers. bind^ 
Copies creation in his foi-ming mind, 
And bids, beneath his hand, in femblance rife,. 
With mimic orbs, the hboiirs of the Ikies. 
There wond'ring crowds, with raptur'd eye behold 
The fpangled heav'as their niyftic maze unfold v 
While each glad fage his fplendid hall fhall grace. 
With all the fpheres that cleave th* etherialfpace^ 

To guide the failor in his wancTring way. 
See Godfrey's toils reverfc the beams of day. 
His lifted quadrant to the eye difplays 
From adverfe &ies the countera£ling rays : 
And marks, as devious fails hewilder'd roll,^ 
Each nice gradation from the fltedfaft pole. 



1 8, 1777, oft American A^airs* 

IRISE9 my lords, to declare my fentiments on this 
moft folemn aiid ferious fubjedt It ha? impofed 
a load upoQ my mind, wUch^^I fear, nothing can re- 
move ; but which impels me to endeavor its alleviattoo, 
by a free and unreferved communication of my fenti- 
ments. In the firft p«|t of the addrcfs, I have the 
honor of heartily concurring with the noble Earl who 
moved it. No man feels fincerer joy than I do j none 
can offer more genuine congratulation on every acce£- 
fion of ftrength to the Protcftant fucceffion : I there- 
fore join in every congratulation on the birth of another 
princefs, and the happy recovery of her Majefty. 

But I muft ftop here ; my courtly complaifance will 
carry me no farther, I will not join in congratulation 
on misfortune and difgraqe. I cannot concur in a 
blind and fervile addrefs, which approves, and endeav- 
ours to fandify, the monilrou»meafures that have heap- 
ed difgrace and misfortune upon us \ that have brought 
ruin to our doors. This, my lords, is a perilous and 
tremendous moment ! It is not a time for adulation. 
The fmoothnefs of flattery cannot now avail 5 cannot 
fave us in this rugged and awful crifis. It is now ne- 
ceffary to inftruft the throne in the language of truth. 
We muft difpel the delufion and the darknefs which en- 
velope it 5 and difplr:y, in its full danger and true col- 
ours, the ruin that it has brought to our doors. 

And 'vohcf is the miniftcr ; nAjhere is theminifter, who 
has dared to fuggeft to tl^e throne the contrary, un- 
conftitutional language, this day delivered from it ? 
The accuftomed lajniguage from the throne has been 
application to Parliamentifor advice, and a reliance on 
its conftitutional advice and affiitance. As it is the 
right of Parliament to give, fo it is the duty of the 
croWn to aik it. But on this day, andin this extreme 


momentous exigency^ no reliance k repofed on our 
conftitutional counfelsl no advice is afked from the 
fober and enlightened care of Parliament I But the 
crown^.from itfeif, and by itfelf, declares an unallera-* 
ble determinatton to purfue meaibres. And what 
raeafures ray lords? ^he meafures that h^ve produc- 
ed iminent perils that threaten us j the meafures that 
have brought rum to our doors. 

Can the minifter of^he day now prefume^o expeA 
a continuance of fupport, in this ruinous infatuation ? 
Can Parliament be fo dead to its dignity and its duty, 
as to be thus deluded into the Idfs of the one, and the 
violation of the other ? To give an unlimited credit 
and fupport for the pei*feverance in meafures, which 
have reduced this late >flourifliing empire rto ruin and 
Contempt! ^*^ut yefterday, and ^England might have 
ftood againft the world j now none fo poor to do her 
reverence.'* I ufe the words of a poet ; but though 
it is poetry, it is no fiftioa. It is a fliameful truth, 
that not only the power and ftrength of thk country 
are wafting away and expiring *, but her well-earned 
glories, her true honors,, and fubftantial dignity, are 

France, myJonls, has inTulted yon; fixe has encour- 
aged and fuftained America; and whether America be 
wrong or .right, the dignity of this country ought to 
fpurn at the officious infult of 'French interference. 
The minifters and ambafladors of thofe who are called 
rebels and enemies, are in Paris ; in Paris they tranC* 
a£l the reciprocal interefts of America and France. 
Can there be a mor^ mortifying infult ? Can even our 
miniflers fuftain a more humiliating difgrace ? Do they 
dare to relent it ? Do they prenime even to hint a 
vindication of their honor, and the dignity of the State, 
by requiring the difmiflal of the plenipotentiaries of 
Anierica ? Such is the degradation to which they have 
reduced the glories: of England I 

The people whom they affeA to call contemptible 
rebels, bat wjiofe growing power has ^ at taift obtained 


• * 

the Iname of enemies ; the people with whom they 
have engaged thb country in wai% and againft whodn 
they now command our implicit fupport in every meas- 
ure of defperate hoftility : this people, defpiled as reb- 
els, are acknowledged as enemies, are abetted againft 
you J fuppiied with every military ftore $ their inter- 
efts confulted, and their ambafladors entertained, by 
yoor inveterate enemy ! and our minifters dare not 
interpofe with dignity or cSe&. Is this the honor of a 
great kii^gdom ? u tins the indignant fpirit of England, 
who, but yefterday, gave law to the houfe of Bourbon ? 
My lords, the dignity of nations demands a decifive 
conduct in a fitnation like this. 

This ruinous and ignominious fituation, where we 
cannot aft with fuccefs, nor fuffer with honor, calls 
upon us to remonftratein the ftrongeftand loudeft lan- 
guage of truth, to relcue the ear of Majefty from the 
delufions which furround it. The defperate ftate of our 
arms abroad is in part known. No man thinks more 
highly of them than I do. I love and honor the En- 
glilh troops. I know they can achieve any thing ex- 
cept impoffibilities : and I know that the conqueft of 
Englifh America is an impoffibility. You Cannot, I 
venture to fay it, you CANNOT conquer America. 

Tour armies, laft war, efie£ted every thing that 
could be efie£led ; and what was it ? It coft a numerous 
army, under the command of a moft able general, now 
a noble lord in this Houfe, a long and laborious cam- 
paign, to expel five tHoufand Frenchmen from French 
America. My lords, you CANNOT conquer Amer- 
ica. What is your present fituation there ? We do 
not know the worft ; but we know, that in three 
campaigns we have done nothingi and fufiered much* • 
We fhall foon know, and in any event have reaibn t» 
lament, what may have happened fince. 

As to conqudd, therefore, my lords, I repeat, it is 
impoffible. Tou may fweli every expenfe, and every 
effort^ ftill more extravagantly; pile and accumulate 
every a^^ftance you can buy or borrow $ traffic aad 


barter with everf Uttle pitiful German prince, wli* 
fells his fubjeds to the ihambles of a foreign power ; 
your efforts are forerer vain and impotent ; doubly fo 
f rota this mercenary aid on which you rely. For it 
irritates, to^an iiicura-blerefentment, the minds of your 
enemies, to overrun them with the mercenary Tons of 
rapine and plunder : devoting them and their pofiei^ 
fions to the rapacity of hircRng crtiehy ! If I were an 
American, as I am an EngliOiman, while a foreigil txoop 
remainei^ in my country, I NEVER would lay down 
my arms; NEVER, NEVER, NEVER. 

Scene from the Tragedy of Cato. 

Cato, Lucius, and Semprokius. 

Q . "TT^ ATHERS, we once again are met in council : 
X/ Cefar's approach has fummon'd us together, 
And Home attends her fate from our refolves. 
^ovr (hall we treat this bold, afpiring man ? 
Succeis ftill fallows him, and backs his crimes : 
Pharfalia gave him Rome, Egypt has fince 
Rcceiv'd his yoke, and the whole Nile is Cefar's* 
Why (hould I mention Juba's overthow, 
And Scipio's death ? Nuniidia's burning fands 
Still fmoke with blood. ^Tis time we (hould deeree 
What courfe to take. Our foe advances on lis. 
And envies us evdn Lybia's fultry deferts. 
Fathers^ pronounce your thoughts > are they ftill fix'd 
To hold it out, and fight it to the laft ? 
Or arc your hearts fubdu'd at length, and wrought - 
By time and ill fuccefs to a fubmiifion ? 
Sempronius» fpeak. 

Setnpronius. My voice is ftill for war. 
HeaVns I can a Roman fcnate long debate 
Which of the two choofe, flav'ry or death ! 
No ; let us rife at once, gird on our fwords^ 
And at the head of oor remaining troop$) 


Attack the foe, break through the thick array 
' Qf his throng'd legions, and charge hooie upon htm. 
Perhaps fome arm, more lucky than ^e reil, 
May reach his heart, and free thtworld from focmdage. 
Rife, fathers, rife ! 'tis Rome demands your help ; 
Rife, and revenge her ^ughter'd citizens, 
Or thare their fate i The corpie of half her ienate 
Manure the fields of Thefialy, while we^ 
Sit here delibVating in cold debates, 
-if we ihall facrifice our lives to honor. 
Or wear them out in fervicude and chains* 
Roufe up, for {hTtmc ! our brothers of Pharfalia 
Point at their wounds, and cry aloud. To battle ! 
Great Pompey's fhade x:ompJains that we are flow^ 
And Scipio's ghoft walks unreveng'd among us. 

Ca^. Let not a torreiit of impetuous zeal 
Tranfport thee thus beyond the bounds of reafon. 
True fortitude is feen in great exploits 
That juftice warrants, and that wifdom guides. 
All clfe is tovVing frenzy and diftrat'lion. 
Are not the lives of thofe who draw the fword 
In Rome's defence cntruff^ to our care ? 
Should we thus lead them to the field of flai^ghter, 
Might^ot th' impartial world with reafon fay. 
We lavilh'd at our death the blood of thoufands, 
To grace our fall, and make our ruin glorious? 
. Lucius, we next would know, what's your opinion ? 

Luc.Mf thoughts^ I mufl confeis are turn'd on peace* 
Already have our quarrels fill'd the world 
With widowsi and with orphat^s. Scytbia mtoiiras 
Our guilty wars, and earth's remotefl regions 
. Lie half unpeopled by the feuds of Rome. 
' ris time to fheathe the fword, and fpare mankind. 
It b not Cefar, but the gods, my fathers } 
The gods declare a^inft uf ;- repel 
Our vain attempts. To urge the foe to battle, 
Prompted by blind revenge, artd wild defpairi 
Were to ref^fc th' awards of Providence, 
\nd not to reil in Heavn's dete)rmiaatio2|. 


AYready have we fhown our love to Rome ; 

Nov let u» (h^w fubmiffion to the gods. 

We took up iarms, not to revenge ourfelves, 

But free the commonwealth j .when this end failsi 

Arms have no further ufe :: our country's caufe. 

That drew our iwords,now wrefls them from our hands^^ 

And bids us not delight in Roman blood. 

Unprofitable Ihed. What men could do. 

Is done already. Hcav*nand earth will witnefs, 

If Rome mud fall, that we are innocent. 

Cata* Let us appear nor rafh nor diffident ; 
ImmodVate valour fwells into a fault \ 
And fear, admitted into public councils, 
Betrays like treafbn. Let us fhun them botb«- 
Fathers, I cannot fee that our affairs 
Are growathus defp'rate : we have bulwarks round us : 
Within our walla are troops inur'd to toil 
In Afric's heats, and^ieafon'd to the fun : : 
Numidia's fpacious kingdom lies behind us. 
Ready to rife at its young prince's call. 
While there is hope, do not diftruft the gods ; 
But wait at leaft till Cefar's near approach 
¥jOTC9f us to yield. 'Twill never be too late 
To fae for chains, and own a conqueror* 
Why ihould Rome fall a moment ere her time ? 
No, let us draw our term of freedom out 
In its full length, and fpin it to the laft ; 
So fhall we gain ftill one day!s liberty : 
And let me perifh ; but in Gato's judgment^ 
A day, an hour of virtuous liberty, 
b.wortha whole eternity in boadage. 


Extract from an Oration, delivered 
AT B0STON9 July 4, 1794, in Commemoration 
€V American Independence. 

AMERICANS I you have a cotmtry vaft in extenr^ 
and embracing all the varieties of the moft fa- 
lubrious climes : held not by charters wrclted from un* 
villing kings, but the bountiful gift of the Author of 
aature* The exuberance of your population is dsily 
divefting the gloomy wildernefs of its rude attire, and 
fplendid cities rife to cheer the dreary defert. You 
have a government dcfervedly celebrated as <« giving 
the fanfltons of law to the precepts of reafon \** pre* 
ienting* inftead of the rank luxuriance of natural liccn* 
tioufnefs, the correfted fweets of civil liberty. You 
have fought the battles of freedom, and enkindled that 
facred flame which now glows with vivid fervot&r 
through the greateft empire in Europe, 

We indulge the fanguine hope, that her equal laws 
and virtuous conduct will hereafter afibrd examples of 
imitation to all furrounding nations. That the blifs- 
ful period will foon arrive when man ffaall be elevate 
to his primitive charaAer ; when illuminated reafon 
and regulated liberty fhali once more exhibit him in the 
image of his Maker ; when all the inhabitants of the 

5 lobe fhall be freemen and fellow- citizens, and patriot- 
fm itfelf be loft in univerfal philanthropy. Then fhall 
volumes of incenfe inceflantly roil from altars infcribed 
10 liberty. Then fhall the innumerable varietie$ of the 
kuman race unitedly << worfhip-in her facred temple, 
whofe pillars fhall refl on the remotefl corners of the 
canh| and whofe arch will be the vault of heaven," 


Dialogue between a white Ii^habitant 


frrz'^ njr "\7"OUR friends, thc inhabitants of the 
Whte Man. ^ United States, wHh to bury the 
tomahawk, and live in peace with the Indian tribes. 

Ifidian, Jadice is the parent of peace. The Indians 
love war only as they love juftice. Let us enjoy our 
rights, and be content with yours, and we wilt hang the 
tomahawkvand fcalping-knife upon the tree of peace, 
and fit down- together under it& branches. 

JT. Man. This is what we defire, and what is your, 
imereft as well as ours to promote. We have often 
made leagues with you ; they have been as often broken. 
If juftice were your guide, and peace your defire, they 
would be better regardcd.:^ 

Ind, The* white men are robbers. We ido not 
choofe to be at peace with robbers j it is more to om* 
bonor to be at war tvith them; 

W\ Man. It is in our power to punifh the aggref- 
fors ; we have toore warriors than the Indians ; but we 
choofe to^^en^lby arguments rather than force.. 

Indi I have heard the arguments of White Men-; 
they are a fair bait; but their intentions are a bearded 
hook. You call its brothers, but you treat us like beafts j 
you wifli to trade 'with us, that yon may cheat us ; you 
vrould give us peace, but you would take our lands, and - 
kave us nothing worth fighting for, 

Wi. Man, The. White Men want your lands ; but 
they arc wMling to pay for them. . The great Parent 
has given the earth to all men in comnmn to improve 
£or their iuftenance; He delighlTs in the numbers of 
his children. If any have a fupefior claim, it ^uft be 
thofe, who, by their arts and induftry, can fupport the 
greateft number on the fmalleft territory^ , 

Ind. This is the way you talk 5 you acl differently^ 
Tou have good on your tongue, but bad in your hearth 


I have been among White Men. I know as muclE 
about them as you do about Red Men. What would 
your people fay, if poor men (hould go to a rich man, 
and tell him, the great Parent has given the earth to alt 
men in common ; we have not land enough ; you have 
more than you need ; he delights in the number of his 
children ; your great farm fopports but few ^ by our Aju- 
perior arts and induftry, it would fupport many ^ yoo 
may move to one corner of your land \ that is fiifficient 
for you ; we will take the reft. We will Kvetogethep 
as brothers^ if you will be at peace with us ; if nor, we 
have more warriors than you \ it is in our power to 
jiunifh the aggreflbrs. Should you call this juft.^ No f no! 

W. Man, Surely not. 

InJ. Then juftice among White Men and Red 
Men b different : will you fhow me the difference ? I 
thought juftice was our friend as well as yours. 

TF. Man. We are governed by laws that protcft 
our property and punifh the difturbcrs ^f peace. 

Ind, Then by what law do you encroach upon oOr 
property, and diHurb our peace ? If you confider us as 
your brothers, your laws ought to proteft us as well as 

IV. Man. Our ways of living are diSerent fron^yours. 
We have many employments and much property : 
your manners are iimple, your pofiiflions fmall ; our 
raws, of courfe, will not apply to your circumftances* 

Ltd, I know you have many laws an paper, and 
ibme that ought to make the paper blufb. We have 
but few \ they are foimded in juftice, and written oa 
the heart. They teach us to treat a ftranger as our 
friend \ to open our doors and fpread our tables to the 
needy. If a white man come among us, cur heart t» 
in our hand ; all we have is his \ yet you call us lav- 
ages I But that muft mean fomething better than chr* 
ilized, if you are civilized. 

W. Man. We do not impeach your hofpitality, no^ 

re your humanity m many inftances; but how 

u juftify your promifcuous flaughier of tli»idEfc 

THE CmmSMAif orator. 27 1 

nocefit and guilty, yonr cmel mafiacres of helplds 
mrives and children, who never injured you ? 

Ind* If a ma A provoke me to fight with him^I will 
break bis head if I can : if he h ilronger than !, then I 
tnuft be content to break hb arm or his finger. Whe^n 
the war-hoop is founded, and we take up the toma- 
bawk, our hearts are. One \ our caufe is common ; the 
wives and children <Kf oar enemies are our enemies aUb ;^ 
they have the fame blood, and we have the fame thirft 
for it. If you wilh your wives and children Oiould eC* 
cape our vengeance, be honeft and friendly in yotur 
dealings with us $ if they have ruffians for their pro^ 
teAors, they muft not expeft fafety. 

W. Mati. We have both the feme claim fironi eacli 
other ; friendfhip and juftice are all we require. Our 
ideas on thefe fub}e£ts are difFerent ; perhaps they will 
never ^ree. On one ^Cy ferocity will not be dilated 
by humanity, not ftubbornnefs by reafbn r on the other, 
knowledge is not difgofed to be advifed by ignorance,^ 
nor powes to ftoop to weaknefs. 

Ind. 1 believe we fball not make peace by our t^lk^. 
If the eontemion is, who has the moft humanity,^ let 
him who- made us judge. We have na pretenfbns to» 
fuperior knowledge j we aik, who knovirs beft how to- 
ufe what they have ? If we contend for power, our^ 
arms nniil decide r the leaves muft wither on the tree 
of peace ^ we ihall cot it down witk the battle-axe^ 
ftnd ftain the green gvafs that grows under it with your 

^. Man* Toil' know the bleffings of peace, and the 
eatamities of war. If you wUh to live Secure in your 
wigwams, aa.d to rove the foref^ immolefted) cultil^te 
our friendlbip. Break not into otH* houfes in the de:- 
feneelefs hours of Asep. Let lio more of oar innocent 
friends be dragged from their protestors and driveH 
into the inhofpitable wilderne&: or what isftitl more 
jKnhaman, fell vidims to your unrelenting barbarity I 
^^f you pnfor war> we £baH <!h4ve ii» horrori into yotil^ 


own ftttlemepts. The fword ihall defboy Jrour friend^ 
and the fiine confiune your direilings, 

Ind. We love peace;, we love our friends; we love 
all men, as much as you« When your fathers canoe 
over th&big water, we treated them as brothers : tHey 
had nothing: peace and plenty were among us. AU 
the land was ours, from the e^ft to the weft \vater\; 
from the mountains of fnow in the north, to the bump- 
ing path of the fun in the fouth. . l\iey were .made 
welcome to our land and to all we pofl*efled. To talk 
like White Men, they were beggsgrs and we their beiii- 
efaAors : they were tenants at will, and we their Iand<- 
IcMrds. But we nourifhed a viper in our bofoms. You 
have-poifoned us &y. your luxury ; fpread contagion 
among us by your fubtlety,, and death by your treacfa^ 
cry. The Indians have but two predominant pai&ons^ 
frtendihip and revenge. Deal with us as friends, and 
you may fiih in our rivers or hunt in our forcfts* Treat 
us not iikefervams ;,we ihall never own you as oiai^ 
ters. If you provoke us, our vengeance (hall purfue 
you^ We fliaU drink your blood ; you may fpill ours. 
We had rather die in honorable war, than live in di& 
honorable peace. 

Extract FnoM an Oratiok i^iioKaaNCEB 
AT Boston, July % 1796. 

THAT the beft way for a great empire to tax her 
colonies is to confer benefits upon^them, and, 
that no rulers have a. right to levy contributions upoa 
the property>.or exa£t the fervices of their fubje£b, 
without their own, or the confent of their immediate 
reprefentatives) were principles never recognrzed by 
the miniftry and parliao^nt-of Great- Britain. Fatally 
enamoured of their felfifii fyftems of policy, and obfti* 
*^ately determined to efPeA the execution of their ne«^* 
ous piu*pofes, they were deaf to the foggeftions of 
1 and the demands of juftice. The frantic, though 


tratifient energy of intoxicated rage was exkibited m 
tiieir every ad, and blackened and diftorted the features 
of their national charader. , 

On the contrary, Americsms had but one objeA in 
view, for in Independence are concentrated and con- 
denfed every Ueffing that makes life deiirable, every 
right and every privilege which can tend to the hap- 
pinefs or fccure the native dignity of man. In the at- 
tainment of independence, were; all their pai&ons, their 
deiires, and their powers engaged. The intrepidity 
the magnanimity of their armies ; the wifdom and in^ • 
flexible firmnefs of their Congrefs ; the ardency of theiir 
patriotifm ; their unrepining patience, when afiaiicd 
by dangers and perplexed with aggravated misfortanes,^ 
l^ve long and defervedly employed the pen of pane^ 
gyric and the tongue of eulogy. 

Through the whole revolutionary conffift, aconfifl- 
ency and fyftematic regularity were preferved', equally 
honorable as extraordinary. * The unity of deiigti and 
claflically correft arrangement of the ferics of incidents 
which completed the Epic fiory of American Indepen- 
dence, were To wonderful, fo well wrought that political 
Hypercrttictfm was abaOied at the mighty production, 
and forced to join her fifter Envy, in- applauding the 
glorious compofition. 

it IS my pleafing duty, my fdlow-citizwis, to felici- 
tate you on the eAablifliment of our national fovereign* 
ty n and among the various fubjeds for congratulation 
and rejoicing, this is not the moft unimportant, that 
Heaven has fpared fo many veterans in the art of war; 
fo many fages, who are verfed in the befV politics of 
peace ; men, who are able to inftru Aiand to govern, and 
whofe faithful fervices, whofe unremitted exertions to 
promote the public prorperiry,.entitle them to our firiu- 
eft confidence and warmed gratitude. Uniting in the 
celebration of this anniverfary, I am happy to behoM 
many of the illiiftrious remnant of that band of patriots, 
who, defpifing danger and death, determined to be fi^e^ 
or glorioufly perifh in the caufe* Their countenances 


beam hiexpreffibl« dtiight i oar jofs are mcrea^d by 
fiieir prefence ; our raptures are heightened by the^ 
participation. The feelings, which infpired ttiem in 
the ** times which tri«d men's fouls^" are communicated 
to our bofomt. We cafch the divine fpirit which im- 
pelled them to bid defiance to the congregated hoft of 
defpots. We fwear to prefervc the b?e£Rings they toiled 
to gain» which they obtained by the incefiant labors of 
eight diihrcfsfol years ; to tranfmit to our pofterity, 
#ur rights ondiminifhed, our honor - untarniihed, and 
our freedom unimpaired. 

On the laft page of Fate's eventful volume* wifh the 
raptured ken of prophecy, I behold Golumbia's name re- 
corded ; her future honors and happinefs infcribed. In 
the fame important book the approaching end of Ty- 
ranny and the triumph erf Right and Juftice are writ- 
ten in indelible chs»ra£Vers. The ftruggle will ibdn bo^ 
over ; the tottering thrones of depots will quickly hh^ 
and bury their proud incumbents in their m^fTy ruins! 

Then Peace on earth fhall hold her eafy fway. 
And man forget his brother man to flay. 
To martial arts, fhall inildcr arts fucceed-; 
Who blefles moft, (hall gain theinvmortal meed.' 
The eye of pity fhall be pain'd no more, , 
With Vidtery's crimfon banners (lain- d with gore,- 
Thou glorious era, come ! Hail, bleiTed time i 
When full-orb freedom fhall unclouded fhine i 
When the chafte Mufes, cheriOv'd by her rays, 
In olive groves fhall tune their fweeteft lays ; I 

When bounteous Ceres fhall direfl her car, 
O'er fields now blafVed by the fires of war*, 
And angels view, with joy and wonder join'd, | 

The golden age returned to blefs ms^nkind J ' 



^ [Edward, aloney readirtg.^ 

Enttr H ARRT, ^h an important air. 

rt ^ TXOVr zrc you, Ned ? 
rxarry. Jh-J^ jsj^^rj. What, is it fou, brother 
Harry f Were it not for the fmall part, of your face, 
that appears between yoor fere-top and yovr cravat, I 
ihould ne^^r know yon. 

Har. My appearance-b a little altdred, to be fare ; 
but I hope you will allows it is for ^e better. 

£<ku. 1 wilBi I could. '1 perceive, that, fomc how 
or other, you are completely oietamorphored from a 
plain country lad, /to a Bofton buck, beau, or fop: 
which is the current word in your varying town dia- 
led, to exprefs fuch a thing as yourfelf ? 

Har, Ah, either of them will do. Tlie young la- 
dies fometimes^ call m^^Tippy H&rry s that fuits my ear 
the beft. 

Edw. That, I iuppofe, means a little fop, or, as I 
fhould exprefis it, ^foppee^ who is obUged to ftand tip- 
toe to reach a lady her fan. 

Har. One of your clownifii blunders, Ned. It 
means an airy young gentleman, drefled out in com- 
plete bon ton from head ta foot, like- myfelf* 

Edw. ** An airy young gentleman, drefled out in 
complete hon ton^yifiz. Sec, This definition may be of 
fervice to me ; I will try to remember it. Tou always 
pofiefled one ^quality of a gentleman, a large ihare of 
good humour : I hope you will not b^ angry, brother^ 
if I am a little inquifitive. 

Han Do, Ned, leave off ufing that old-fa(hion- 
ed word: Td rather you would do any thing to me 
than kretber me at this rate. If you fhould come t€> 
Sollon, drefled as you are now, with your clumfy (hnes^ 
coarfe ftockings, great fmall-clothes, home'fpittii 


coaty and your old rufty go-to-mill hat, and ikstke 
hands with aie> in your awkward way i and rhen^ to 
complete the whole, (hould call me brother^ I ihould be 
thunderftruck ! For my credit's fake, I fl&ould Twcar 
it was fome crazy ftraggler, I had feen in the country, 
and given a few coppers to keep him from (Varving. I 
would hide bdiind the counter, or lie rolled up in a 
piec^ of broadcloth a week, rather than be caught in 
fuch a (crape. 

Edvf. Ad airy young gentkman, indeed ! would 
fwear to half a do^en lies, hide behind the counter^ 
and roll yonrfelf up in a piece of broadcloth like a Silk- 
worm, to fave your credit ! You have improved nauch 
beyond my expe^ations, Tippy Harry i This (bunds 
better in your refined ear tlun brother Harry, I fup- 
pofe. - 

Har. Tes it does, Ned, I'll aflure you : thats your 
fort ! You begin to come on a little. Now Til tell yon 
how it is, Ned \ if you would take your old mufty li- 
brary here, and lay it all on the fire together, and bum 
all your old-fa(hioned clothes with it, and then go to 

Edw. What, without any clothes, Harry ? 

Har. Why, I think I (hould about as lief be feen 
with you (lark naked, as with your coarfe, narrow^ 
backed, (hort-waifted coat.. But as I was faying before, 
then put yourfelf under the care of a tailor, barber, 
(hoe- maker, and a dancing mafter; keep a (lore of 
£ngli(h goods about three months, go to the Theatre 
a dozen nights, chat with our Bofton Tippies, bav^ a ' ( 
few high goes, and freeze and thaw two or three times', 
for you are monftroufly (Hfifj I fay, after all this, I be- 
lieve, Ned, you would make a very clever fellow. 

Edw, The freezing and thawing is a kind of di(^ j 
dpline I (hould not fo readily comply with. I have 
heard of feveral of your clejuer fellowiy and ladies of 
your Jhrt^ who were found frozen in old bams, and 
behind board fences ; but I never knew they were (b 
fertuoate as to thaw again. Now, Harry, I will be 


ferious with you. Your airy young gentleman^ in my 
t>pinion| is a veryinfipid charafter; far beneath my am- 
bition. A few materials from behind the counter, the 
tailor's needle and ihears^ the barber's puff and poma- 
tum, a little fheepikin modified by the fhoe-maker, 
and what is the moft infignificatlt of all, a little fupple^ 
puny machine, that in plain Engliih, I fhould call a 
naked fool ; to fbrut about the ftreets with all rhis finery^ 
carry it to the theatre, or dancing fchool ; and teach 
it to fay a few pretty things by rote ; tbefe make the 
gentlemen of your fort. Mine is compofed of quite dif- 
ferent materials. 

Har. Pray let me know what they are? home- 
fpun, I dare fay. I am fuperfine, you ice, from head 
to foot. 

Edw, Yes, Harry, you have blundered into one 
juft obfervation. In the firft place, I would lay up a 
good ftore of knowledge, home-fpun from my own re- 
flections, reading, and obfervation ; not the fecond- 
handed fmattcring of the moil ignorant of all beings 
who ufe a tongue. The tailor's, barber's, and dancing 
mafler's bill &ould npt (how an inventory of all I pof- 
fef&d. fhey may make my clothes, drefs my hair, 
and teach me how to bow ; but there muft be fome- 
thing more to command the bow of refpeft from peo- 
ple of fenfe, the judges of real merit. In (hort, I would 
btf a gentleman farmer; too well informed to be influenc-. 
ed by your railing newfpaper politics ; too much delight- 
ed with the bleating and playing of the flocks in my owa 
pafture, to read the head of Theatricals^ or be amufed 
with any drove of ftage-players, that have infefted our 
country from Charlefton to Portfmouth. And I {hould 
be much more proud of raiflng one Ukely calf, than as 
many of the moft infipid of all animals, called Tipple^ 
as could ftand in every (hop In CornhiUi 


David and Gox-iath. 

Gfi/' th TXr^^^^ " *^ mighty man of war, wio 

'Accept the challenge of Philiftia*s chief? 
What viftor-king, what genVal drench'd in bloody 
Oaims this high privilege ? What arc his rights f 
What proud credentials docs the boafter bring, 
sTo prove his cHitm ? What cities laid in alhesp 
What ruin'd provinces, what flaughter'd realms, 
/What heads of heroes, and what hearts of kings. 
In battle kill'd, or at his altars (Iain, 
Has he to boaft f Is his bright armoury 
Thick fet with fpears, and fwords, and coats of mail/ 
Of vanquiOi'd nations, by his fingle arm 
Subdu'd i Where is the .mortal man fb bold. 
So much a wretchjfo-out of love with life. 
To dare the weight of this uplifted fpcar, 
Which never fell innoxious ? Yet I fwear, 
I grudge the glory to his parting foul 
To fall by this right hand. ' f will fweeten death. 
To know he had the honor to contend 
With the dread fon of Anak. Lateft time 
From blank oblivion (hall retrieve his name. 
Who dar'd to. perifli in unequal fight 
With Gath's triumphant champion. Come, zdvancd 
- Philiftia's gods to^; Ifracl'?. Sound, my 4ierald, 
Sound fi>r the battle ftraight ! 

David. Behold thy foe I 

Gal. I fee him not. 

Dav. Behold him here ! 

Gol. Say, .where? 
Direft my fight. ;1 do not war with boys. 

D^v. I fltand prepar'd ; thy fingle arm to mine* 

GoL Why, this is mockery, «iinion ! It may chznce 
To coft thee dear. Sport not with things above thee; 
But .tell me who, of ail this numerous hoft, 


Expcft<? his death from me ? Which is the man, 
Whorn Ifrael fends to meet my bold defiance ? 

Dav, Fh' eleftion of my fovreign falls on me. 

GoL On thee I on thee ! By Daj^on, 'tis too much ! 
Th >u curled minion ! thou a nation's champion ! 
*Tvirould move my mirth at any other time ; 
But trifling's out of tune. Begone, light boy ! 
And tempt me not too far. 

Dav. I do defy thee. 
Thou foul idolater 1 Haft: thou not fcorn'd 
The armies of the living God I ferve ? 
By me he will avenge upon thy head 
Thy nation's fins and thine. Arm'd with his name, 
Unfhrinking, I dare meet the ftouteft foe 
That ever bath'd hi$ hoftile fpear in blood. 

GoL Indeed ! 'tis wondrous well ! Now, by my gods, 
The ftripling plays the orator ! Vain boy I 
Keep clofc to that fame bloodlefs war of words, 
And thou fhalt ftill be fafe. Tongue-valiant warrior ! 
Where is thy fylvan crook, with garlands hung, 
Of idle field- flowers ? Where thy wanton harp, 
Thou daimy-finger'd hero ? Better ftrike 
Ifs note lafcivious, or the iulling lute 
Touch foftly, than provoke the trumpet's rage, 
I will not ftain the honor of my fpear 
With thy inglorious blood. Shall that fair cheek 
Be fcarr'd with wounds unfeemly ? Rather go, 
And hold fond dalliance with the Syrian maids ; 
To wanton meafures dance ; and let them braict ' 
The bright luxuriance of thy golden hair ; 
They, for their loft Adonis may miftake 
Thy dainty form. 

JDav. Peace, thou unhailowM railer ! 
O tell it not in Gath, nor let the found 
Reach Afkelon, how once your flaughter'd lords. 
By mighty Sampfon found one common grave : 
When his broad flioulder the firm pillars beav'dj 
And to its bafe the toit'ring fabric fliook. 


Go/. Infulting boy ! perhaps thou haft not heaHi 
The infamy of that inglorious day, 
When your weak hofts at Eben-ezer pitched 
Their quick abandon'd tents, fhen, when your arfe. 
Tour taliftnan, your charm, your boafted pledge 
Of fafety and fuccefs, was tamely loft \ 
And yet not tamely, fincc by me *twas won. 
When with this good right-arm, I thinn*d your ranks^i 
And bravely crufh'd, beneath a fingle blow, 
The chofbn guardians of this vaunted Ihrine, 
Hophni and Phineas^ The fam'd ark itfelf, 
I bore to Aflidod. 

Vav. I remember too. 
Since thou provok'ft th' unwelcome truth, how all 
Your bluftiing priefts beheld their idol's ftiame ; 
When proftrate Dagon fell before the ark. 
And your frail god was ftiiver'd. rhen Philifti^ 
Idolatrous Philiftia flew for (uccour 
To Ifrael's help, and all her fmitten nobles 
Gonfefs'd the Lord was God, and the bleft ark, 
(Jrladly, with reverential a\fe reftor'd ! 

Gff/. By Aftidod's fane thou ly'ft* Now wKl I meet 
Thou infeft warrior ! fince thou dar'ft me thus ! 
Already I behold thy mangled limbs, 
Diffever'd each from each, ere long to feed 
Th? fierce, blood-fnuffing vulture. Mark me well I 
Around my fpear I'll twift thy ftiining locks. 
And tofs in air thy head all gafti'd with wounds 5 
Thy lips, yet quiv'ring with the dire convulfioa 
Of recent death ! Art thou not terrified ? 

Dav. No. 
True courage is not mov'd by breath of words i 
But the rafli bravery of boiling blood. 
Impetuous, knows no fettled principle. 
A feverifti tide, it has its ebbs and flows, 
As fpirlts rife or fall, as wine inflames. 
Or circumftances change. But inborn courage^ 
"^he generous child of Fortitude and Faith, 


Holds its firm empire in the conftant foul ; 
And, like the ftedfaft pole-ftar, never once 
From the fame fix*d and faithfuWpoint declines. 

GoL The curfes of Philiftia's gods be on thee I 
This fine-drawn fpeech is meant to lengthen out 
That little life thy words pretend to fcorn. 

Ddv. Ha I fay'ft thou fo ? Come on then ! Mark 
us well. 
Thou com*ft to me with fword, and Ipear, and fhield ! 
In the dread name of IfraePs God, I come ; 
The living Lord of Hofts, whom thou defy'ft ! 
Yet though no fliield I bring; no arms, except 
Thefe five fmooth ftones I gathered from the brook^ 
With fuch a fimple fling^as fliepherds ufc j 
Yet all expos'd, defencelefs as I am, 
The God I ferve (hall give thee up a prey 
To my viftorious arm. This day I mean 
To make th* uncircumcifed tribes confefs 
There is a God in Ifrael. I will give thee, 
Spite of thy vaunted ftrength and giant bulk^. 
To glut the carrion kites. Nor thee alone ; 
The mangled carcafles of your thick hof^s 
Shall fpread the plains of Elah : till Philiftia, 
Through all her trembling tents and flying bands. 
Shall own that Judah's God is God indeed I 
I dare thee to the trial ! 

GoL Follow me. 
In this good fpear I truft. 

Dav, I truft in Hcav'n L 
The God of battles ftimulates my arm. 
And fires my foul with ardour, not its own,- 

An Oratiok on the Powers of Elq- 
qttence, written for an exhibition of a 
School in Boston, 1794. 

AMIDS r the profufi on of interefting and brilliant 
obje(^ in this afiembly, ihouldihe fpeaker be aUe 


to engage the attention of a. few eyes, anda &v ears be 
will edeeofi his reception flattering. To another is al- 
lotted the pleaiing taik of clofing the evening, with re- 
marks on Female Education.* It is mine to recomcnend 
the POWERS- OF ELOQUENCE, and to fhow the 
influence which it judly challenges^ over the fenfes, 
paiBons, and miderflandings of mankind* 

Eloquence confirfls in a capacity ofexpreffing,by the 
voice, attitude, geflure, and countenance, the emotions 
of the heart. To this art, Demofthenes ahd Cicero 
owe their immortali^ty i by this, the late Earl of Chat- 
ham gained his celebrity y and to this, are the great pol« 
iticians, now in Europe, indebted for their diftinfHon. 
Eloquent men bogin to be h^ard with attention in our 
Congreis \ pulpit orators gain crowds, and eloquent 
lawyers gain caufes. 

when the enlightened Statefman is difcui&ng the 
intereils of a country, on which are grafted his for- 
tune, fame, and life, he mu/l be eloquent. When the 
general, harangues a brave foldiery, at the eve of a bat- 
tle, on wlxich depend their liberties and lives, he mi^ 
be eloquent. When the compaflionate lawyer, with- 
out hope of reward, advocates the caufe of the fufier- 
ing widow, or irjured orplian, he mufi be eloquent. 

But when true eloquence is introduced into the fa« 
•red deflc, how elevated is the fubjeft of the paffion on 
the crofs ! With what animating zeal can the preacher 
oall on his hearers, to <* open a highway for their God !'* 
With what rapture can he burft from the gloom of types 
and figures, into the brightnefs of that everlaftingGofpel 
which brought " life and immortality to light !" With 
what heaven-taught joy can he hail the Star in the Eaft ^ 
and with what Ambiance of reality may he lead the 
imaginations of his audience to a fight of the babe in 
the manger ! If he fed fuch fubjefts, he muft be elo- 
quent and irre£flib!e. 

May we now look back and trace the progrcfs and 
influence of Eloquence on diflferent fubje^s, and at yi^ 


nous periods ? How do we feel its power, when we 
hear David expcei&iig the appearing of the Utgheft I 
« He bowed the heavens alfo, and came down, and 
darknefs was under bis feet ^ he rode upon a cherub,, 
and did fty, and he was feen upon the wings of the 

Who caj3 hear, withou]^ emotion, the fubtime elo-* 
quence of the prophet Ifaiah, when he announces the 
future glory of the Church ? ** Violence ftiall no more 
be heard in thy land ; wafting nor deftru£tion withia 
thy borders : but thou ihalt call thy walls ^Ivation^ 
and thy gates, Praife."^ 

But in what language has the prophet Habakkuk 
defcribed the maj^fty of the Creator ? " Before him 
went the peftilenqe, and burning coals went forth at 
his feet ; he ftood, and meafured the earth : he beheld, 
«nd drove aftunder the nations : the everlafling moun- 
tains were fcattered : the perpetual hills did bow : his 
ways are everlafting."^ Let us pais in refpeftful iilence 
ihjB eloquence of Him, who "fpake, as never m«n fpafce.** 

But our atteniion is immediately arrefted by the de- 
fence of Paul before Agrippa % in which he defcribes a 
light feom heaven, above the brightnef s of the mid^day 
fun I when he declares his convtrriion, and commiffion 
to be a minifier, and a witnels of thofe things, whtcli 
he had feen, and of thofe things, in which the Saviour 
would appear unto him,. « Whereupon,** fays he, " O 
king Agrippa, I was not difbbedient unto the beav.enly 

Nor can we fail to mention that eloquence, which 
made Felix tremble on his tln'one. Nor can we read, 
iinmoved) Paul's folemn account of the refurreftion ^ 
when, <* In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, the 
dead fliall be raifed, and we ihall be changed." But 
when we come to the vifion on the ifle of Patmos, 
where the glory of heaven was unveiled to a man of 
God, we are loft in the majefty and fublimity of the 
defcription of things, which muft be hereafter j aiv* 
m^ft clofe the facred fcriptures, convinced of theV 


\/ . 

fiftible Powers of Eloquence, when employed upon di- 
vine fubje£ts. 

Among themes lefs intereftingy is there one^ on which 
thefe powers have been unfucce^ftiUy employed ? We 
read how the eloquence of one man governed all hicarts 
in Greece, and how aftonifhing was its effeA from the 
immortal Orator at Rome. All civilized nations can 
furnifh fa£ls and arguments on this fubjeA. Whevev- 
er arts and fciences have found a refidence, oratory has 
been a fure attendant. 

I am obliged to pafsj with regret, the charaAers 
of D'Efpremenil, Mirabeau, Burke, Fox, Flood, and 
Grattan, who, within our own days, have made the * 
Senates of three different kingdoms ring with their 
eloquence. With greater reluAance muft I^pafsthe 
memorable time, when all the fenies, paffions, and al« 
moft breath of five thoufand people were fufpended at 
the- admirable eloquence of Sheridan, while he defcrib- 
ed the cruelties of Hadings on the banks of the Gan- 
ges ; w))en with unfeeling madnefs that defpot reddcQ- 
ed the waters with the l^lood of mothers and th^ir in- 
fants, and made even the river blu(h for the honor of 
the Britiih name. 

With pleafure I bring my fubjeft tQ4:he fcenes of my 
native country ; and. here could, with the enthufiafm 
of Columbus in his vifion, prefent before you the lofty 
Andes, the majeftic MiiSlippi, the beautiful Ohio, the 
falls of Niagara,, and the lakes of the Dorth4 I might 
take a view of this country, extending through the five 
zones, comprehending all the climates, and producing 
all the varieties of the earth. 

Our ears have heard what wonders have been 
wrought in United America. Our eyes fee its pref- 
ent happy fituation After many toils and convu^fions, 
we at length find ourfelves fafe on the top of Nebo, 
and our Mofes yet alive at the head of our rulers. 
Hence we look forward to the flattering profpefts of 
futurity. Our orators and poets have announced b'efl^ 
^'^ things in the latter days. Our prophets have 


taught us to expcA the reality of golden dreams. The 
leaves of our future hiftory are gilded^ and the pages 
are left to be filled up, with the anions of a long lift 
of unambitious Cefars. 

We are told, that on this our native fpot of earth, 
flavifh government and flaviih hierarchies fhall ceafe ; 
that here the old prophecies fliall he verified ; that 
here (hall be the lail univerfal empire on earth, the 
empire of reafon and virtue ; under which the gofpel 
of peace fliall have free courfe and be glorified ; that 
here <« the wolf Ihall dwell with the lamb, and the leop- 
ard with the kid, and that nation fhall no more lift up 
fword ogainft nation.** 

When f he philofbpher of the Eaft forefaw the beauty 
and excellence of this Weftern Continent, its immenfe 
rivers, lakes, and mountains; cities rifing from the 
midft of defolation •, " men like trees walking," where 
once were the haunts of favage beafts ; arts and man- 
ners improving ; the rofe budding in the defert, and 
the flowers of the garden in the iolitary place, rich in- 
deed was the«profpe6t. But his vifions have become 
$ur realities. We live to enjoy blefiings, more numer- 
ous than Columbus could count. 

We fee fchools, academies, ind colleges, opening 
their treafures to every family; and are taught, that 
religion, liberty, and fcience, are condellations in the 
heavens, which, amidft the revolution of empires, vifit, 
in fuccefiion, all the kingdoms and people of the earth. 
I We fee one half of the world involved in darknefs, 
and oblivious fleep ; while the other is enjoying the 
blefiings of day, and of vigilant induftry. 

The day of American glory has at length dawned. 
No more fhall meteors of the air, and infedts with gild- 
ed wings, lead aftray the benighted traveller, nor the 
bleaking buzzards of the night triumph over the bird of 
Jove^ Prejudice, ignorance, and tyranny, are flying 
on the wings of the wiiid. While this day is ourS) let; 
us be up and doing. 



^^ / May I now introduce my fubje£t' within thefe walls? 
^"^ And here, how extenfive is the thecne for my feeble 
powers of eloquence ! yer may I employ them, in iug- 
gefting the motives which your fons and daughters have 
to cultivate their minds. Gratitude to their parents ; 
your patronage ; their own ambition ; their profpefb 
of future profit, ufefulnefs^ and honeft fame, are among 
•he firft. 

Biit highly important is rendered this morning of 
life and privilege to us» from a consideration, that we 
are born in the heft of countries, at the beft of tiosesw 
While fome of the human race are fuffering the ex- 
treme heats of burning zones, and others are freezing 
beyond the influence of benignant rays* we live in a 
climate, temperate, falubrious, and healthful. While 
fome inherit from their parents poverty and flavery, 
ve are the heirs of private, public, and focial benefits. 

Our eyes have been opened ia a country* where the 
Father of mercies has been pleafedto condenie his blefl^ 
ings. On us beams the fun of Icience : ours is the 
hemifphere of Freedom : here are ^ enjoyed THE 
RIGHTS OF MAN *, and upon us ihine, with ceafelefs 
fplendour, the rays of the STAR OF.BETHI^HEM. 

Bleft in the difpeAfations of nature, providence, and 
grace, on us depends a faithfuH improvement of onr nu^ 
merous talents. Early taught the fhortnefs and value 
of life, and the importance of improving each hour of 
youth, while we have Icifure, and the aiHllance of in- 
ftru&ors, we early learn to be diligent. Obferving^ 
that with our parents the ihadows of the evening be*- 
gin to lengthen, and that foon the. wheel will ceafc to 
turn round at the ciftem *, . that foon they muft leave us^ 
and that, we muft -fiU their places, we learn to be am- 
bitions and emulous to excel. But beyond thefe, we 
have, with all other children of the univerfe, an argu- 
ment ftill higher to improve thefe precious days. We 
live not only for ourielves, for our parents, friends, and 
country \ but for the Giver of life : we live for immor* 
tality. Toung as we are, and jnA entered the barj& of 



being ; yet like yoa, we are on a boundlefs ocean and 
an eternal voyage. 

As ELOQTTENCE is my theme, perhaps I may be 
Indulged in dwelling for the few remaining moments^ 
on this laft moft interefting fiibjeft. While enjoying 
the bxffings of health, and the feftivities of youth, we 
ftand on this bridge of life, carclefs of the^rapid eur- 
rents df yefter'days and to-morrows; yet refle£lion 
teaches that the hour*is rapidly haftening, when « the 
cloud-capt towers ; the' gorgeous palaces ; the folemn 
temples ; yea, the great globe itfelf, with all which it 
inherits, (hall diSblve, and like the bafelefs fabric of a 
vifi m, leave not a wreck behind." We ihall furvive. 

Though the lofs of parents and friends ; thiiugh the 
frequent infirmities and vicifitudcs of life, teach us 
gloomily to refleft, that ** An angel's arm can't fiiatch 
us from the grave ;** yet a lure profpeft of a refurrec- 
tion to ceafelefs life, brds us fay with triumph, <« Legions 
of angels cati't confine us there." We look bark on 
the ages which have pafied, and fee the millions ol men« 
who, fince the days of Adam, have bee^ laid in the 
duft. We i«e nine hundred and fifty millions of ra» 
tional beings, now in full life, who muft, in a few years 
be cold and in death; and in every day of our lives, 
no lefs than eighty<*fix thoufand of the human race, 
are laid in the grave. What oceans of tears have been 
Ihed by furviving- friends ! 

Hlow have mourning and lamentation, and woe been 
heard not only in Rama, but throughout every quar- 
ter of the inhabited earth ! We contemplate the time, 
when thefe bodies of ours, now full of life and oYotion, 
ihall be cold. , We elevate our thoughts to that fcene, 
when the elements fhall melt with fervent heat ; when 
the fun (hall be darkened, and the moon no more give 
light : when the ftars of heaven (hall fall from their 
places, and all nature be tumbling into ruins. 

Then the trump of God fhall fpund ; then fhall he, 
who once faid, «' Lazarus, come forth," defcend 
from heaven^ with a mighty ihout. Then, ihall the 


Xhcar the voice of the Son of God; then (hall thcf 
^dr& the bands of death, and rife, never to fleep again, 
xhen Ihali this mortal pot on immoralitj, and death 
be fwallowed op of life. 

WefhallbepreientatthisaagoftrcfiUTeftiim! Socm 
fliall we ceafe to fee the Moe canopy of the day, and 
the ftarred curtain of the night ; to hear the rolling 
of the thunder, or fee the lightning of the heavens ; 
fcenes, which now imprefs us with awe and delight. 
We look round creation, and fee ^11 living nature, be- 
low our rank, diff jiving to duft ; never to revive. "We 
fee the flowers of fpring die, and the leaves of antuom 
fade ; never to refunae their beauty and verdure. Bat 
contemplating the foul of man, we are led to the lan- 
guage of the poet, 

^See truth, love, and mercy in triumph defcending. 
And nature all glowiog in Eden's firft bloom, 

On the cold cheek of death fmiles and rofes are blending^ 
And beauty immortal awakes irom the tomb." 

This fubjea,' itfclf fo full of Eloquence, 4s alfo full of 
tndruAion and argument. Whatever elevates the dig- 
nity of oiu* natures, and extends our views, teaches us 
to live ; daily to improve our minds j daily to better 
our hearts. May ELOQ^JENCE ever be improved in 
the caufe of learning and* virtue 5 ever employed in ad- 
drefGng important truths to the mind, in a mo(l forci- 
ble and expref&ve manner. 

May the daughters of America wear their charms, 
as attendants on their virtue, the fatellites of their in- 
nocence, and the ornament of their fcx. May her 
fons early learn the principles of honor, honefty, dili- 
gence, and patriotifm ; and when called to leave thefe 
happy feats, where care is a ftranger, and where learn- 
ing is a free gift, be prepared for the burden and heat 
of the day, and ever prove as a munition of rocks- 1» 
their country. 



OF THE Ton, and a Country Farmer. 

^ . T T ALLOO ! there, Maftcr ! What have 

Gentleman. J^ ^^^ ^^ .^^^^^ ^^j,^^ j 

Farmer, "Fowls, Sir, at your fervicc. 

Gent, And what do you alk a pair ? 

Farm. Fifty cents a pair for ducks, and fevcnff- 
five cents a piece for geefe and turkeys. 

Gent. What is the fellow talking about? I in* 
quired the price of fowls ; not of geefe and turkeys. 

Far. And pray, Mifter, what is the diSerence 
between a fowl and a goofe ? My bible teaches me, 
that all the feathered tribe are ranged under the gen- 
eral name of fowl. 

Gent. Why, you numlkuU ! don't quote (cHpture 
to me, to prove fuch palpable abfurdities. I can te4ch 
you, that a goofe, or turkey, is no more like a fowl^ 
than a human being is like one of the animal creation ! 

Farm. I crave your pardon, Mifter. I begin to 
fee that I never was larn'd the right ufe of language \ 
for, lince I come among thefe fine gentlefolks, I don't 
underhand one half that's faid to me. 

Gent. So it feems. However, you have now ca* 
tered a good fchool to learn civilization. What { 
wanted, was^ a pair of thofe creatchures that lay eggsj 
wulgarly called'hens. 

Farm. Why, begging your pard<m, Sir, and ho* 
ping no offbnce, I ihould fuppofe, that, at leaO, one of 
the forts I have in my wallet lays eggs, from the mul- 
titude q{ go/lins I fee about your ftreets. 

Gent. Why, you fool ( where were you bred ? I 
fl^ould imagine you come fifty miles cff^ where they 
tell me the people are almoft favages ; and that you 
were never in market before. 

Farm. If is true, I live more than fifty miles off, 
and never was in this great city before i uid. In fad, I 




/^to think I never (hall defire to be again ; far I 
hithfcrto met with prttty rough handlings I aflure 

;-| Geni, No wonder that fuchlgnorenee fiiould ex- 

|i pofe yott to infalts. A man like you» who has bcea 

1 brung up among iavages, and not able to ipeak intel- 

•J ligibly, muft expeA to receive ievere difcipline^ when 

1 he firft vifits a land of civiihuUkfL 

j -Farf9u I begin to fee what a lad thing it i% e(pe- 

I cially in fuch a pbce asthis^ fo4)e>ib deftitnte as I ana 

I of' the right kind of laming, i confeis, that^.fo far 

from chnlKuition^ I have never received but little more 
\ than ebrjftiamzattM. B«t'I'ihouId think» even that 

I ovght to entitle an honeft, well- meaning man to bet« 

\ ter treatment than I have met with this morning. 

\ Gent. Tou have no right to complain. Such a 

bkindering blotlthead as you are ought to think bicn- 
; (elf fortchunatCi if be is fnficred to pafs the ftrceta with« 

out having his head%roke. 

S Farm. Indeed, I have hardly efcaped tliat» I have 

\ been accofted a hundred and fifty times fincc I entered 

the big town^ by all forts and fizes of folks, both male 

and female. Which, at firft, indeed, appeared civil 

enough % far>not a child in the ftreet but what map- 

' tef^d me, as mflcmeriy as though 1 had teachM fchool 

all my days. But whenever i approach^ ihem, it 

i was old daddy, old. hmoi, old fellow, and io on; rifing 

\ by degrees to fuch genteel language as' your worfhip 

feems to be mafler of. I hope - no offence, Sir. The 

firft time I had the honor to be noticed, a fine gentie«- 

woman called to me from her window. So I civilly tfB^ 

] tared her door \ when (he fqualled out << You filthy 

^ brute ! Have you the impudence to come in at my 

frontdoor?'* Did you not caU me, madam ? replied L 

Yes,.tTCily^ hy% ttktv. but I !>ought yoo had more cho^ 

ilizationj than to fet jour ugly, fc^are-toed Ihocs upon 

my cai^. I craved her ladyfiiip's pardon ; tokl her 

I hoped- 1 fliottld<-teirB civUizatiou firom fttchr good ex- 

>le ; and got ofiTas well as I could. 

fm G0tUMBlAN^R4TOIU ^ 

•> . . ^ent.' It iar evident you know nothiss pf^the world. 

Farm. How fliould I, fincc > liTe a bundrecl milfcs 
off, and never read fcarcely. any thing bu£.mj bl&I^ and 
]ifalm book ? 

Geftti Aye, fiire enough* You arc n>uchto4>c pit- 
ied. Why, according to the rulesef chniiz^ton^ you 
o^nded the lady infuiFerably. 

Farm, So I perceive; though, at firft, I could not 
conceive, for the life of me, what harm there could be 
m entering the front door, fince there was no other in 
thehoufc; nor how my (hoes could give oiFence, inaf- 
much as they wcreperfcftly dean,, 

Gent. Why, did you not juft acknowledge they 
were unfaflnonable ? 

Farm. Aye, right. And mayhap fiie difcovered 
. the nails in the • heels \ though I could have affured 
.her they would not fcratch ; for they were well drove, 
and the heads fmooth. Well, as I was faying, (bon 
afier I efcapedfrom her ladyfliip*s civilities I was ftop- 
pcd by, St/Squire-Jopynff gentleman, whofe palate was^ 
fet for the fame dainty mat yours was, fowls, I toid 
him I had as fine ones as ever was hatched. So I 
ihowed him the whole contents of my wallet; when, 
after examining it critically, he exclaimed, «' You in- 
fulting puppy ! I have a mind in my confcience to cane 
you. What, firrah! tell me you have fowls to fell, 
when you have nothing but a parcel of poultry !'' So 
giving me a^ kick or two, he tells me to go and learn- 

Gent. And ferved you right enough too. . 

Farm. So as I proceeded peaceably through the 
flreet, I met a tripling in his fbldier's coat, making; 
the fame ufe of his fword as I did of my flaflrl Hav- 
ing a heavy load, and tripping my foot a little, 1 unfor- 
tunately joilled this beardlefs hero. '^ What 4.0 you 
mean, you dirty fcoundrel !" he inftanfly exclaimed ; 
lifting up his fword at the fame time. << Have you no 
more ^iwlization than to treat an officer of the navy in 
CucJi a. rwdei niamxer ?'* V beg pardjoag; iays L It — 


an accident. If yon were not beneath my imp 
, fays he, fwearing a big oath, which I dare nor re- 
. at ; ifvou were not beneath the notice of a gentte- 
man^ I fay, I would foon lay you upon yonr beam ends, 
you frefli water lobfter ? You are as deAttute of dvi/g^ 
zathfif as if you had never been out of fight of land in 
all your life. 

Gent. You will learn in time to keep at a refpeftful 
difiance from gentlemen of the fword. It is fortch- 
unate for you that the cfiicer did not make day-light 
Ihine through you. 

Farm. I believe it dangerous, I confefs, to venture 
very near gentlemen^ if thefc may be called fuch. Well, 
the next pcrfon I met, I took, from his brogue, to be 
a " wild Irifhman.** At any rate, he was a ronny fel* 
low, and difcovered feme marks of civilization. Mar& 
■ ter, fays he, have you any wery good weal in your varl- 

I et ? I do hot undcrftand Irifli, Mifter, replied I. Iriflr f 

Irifh I old mutton-head, faid he : nor I neither. It is 
: enough for me, that I am able to fpeak good Engliih.. 

» I ax'd you what you had to fell. I am fitting out a 

\ weflel for Wenicc \ teading her with warious keiads 

I of prowifions, and witualling her for a long* woyag&i 

;i and I want feveral undred weight of weal, wenifon, 

i &c. with a plenty of inyons and winegar, for the pref- 

i erwation of eahh. I aflured him I did not compr^- 

I hend his meaning. It is wery natchural, replied he, 

•t to fuppofe it, ^ you are but a poor countryman and 

\ want civilization. So he peaceably withdrew. And 

\ now, good Miiler^ f Squire, perhaps I ought to fey ; 

I fior, before you (lopped me^ I heard you adminiftering 

i oaths-,) I fay, good 'Squire, as you have eondefcend- 

.'. ed to give me fome uieful inftruAion, pray be fe kied 

i as to tell me, to what fpecies of animals a opeature 

; would belong, which fhould be, in every refpe£l, cx- 

^ aAly like yourfeJf, excepting the addition of a pair of 

; long cars ? 

j Gent. 1 will not difgrace myfelf by keeping your 

^mpany any longer. £J?^fi.] 


Farm. [alime.'\ What a ftrange run of luck I have 
had to*day ! If this is civUization^ I defire to return 
to my favage haunt again. However, I don't defpair 
yet of meeting with people- olrad* civilization ; for I 
have always been told that this* place is not without 
itt^ihare. Yet I fear thcy^Jiave greatly degeneratetl 
from the iimple manners of their forefathers. Their 
placing mere civility above Chriftianity is a plain proof 
of it. The anceftors -of this pebple were anxious main- 
ly to teach their '^pofterity Chriftianity, not doubting 
but civility^ would naturally attend it. What vexes 
me moft is^^that I can't underftand their language. 
For my par»^ I ' think they have but little reafon to 
lau^ atmy pronunciation. This W the firft time I 
ever haird that turkeys, gecfe, and* ducks were not 
fewls,^: They might as well tell me» that oxen, bulls, 
and cows are not cattle. I take thislaft chap to be of 
the race of coxcombs ; and I think it is fomctimes befl-, 
to indulge them in their own exalted opinion <^ them- 
felves, till experience teaches them their folly. I know 
I am but a plain man : and no one feels the want of 
laming more than I do. But I . am certain I cannot 
appear more contemptible in this coxcomb's eyes, than 
he does in mine. 

THE Ma»UM1SSI0N OF SlAVES, ApRIL 12, 1 797. 

By Rev. Samuel Miller. 

I HATE hitherto confined myfelf to the conacii^i d- 
tion of flavcry as it exifts among purfelves, and cf 
that unjuft domination which is exerqiftd over the Af- 
ricans and their dcfcendants, who are already in our 
country." It is with a regret and indignation wlikh I 
am unable to exprefi, that I call yo«r attention to the 
conduft of fome among u?, who inftead of dfminifliw 
ing, ftrive to Jncreafe the evil in qi:cflxor>. 
A a a 


^ yd, are weeping otot their iojurc^; Collow-'ercainxcs, 
and dire&ing tittir kigenuiry and <!beir htKums w the 
f emovid of fo dUgrac^iil a Awtfcaem tf crodtf and 
avarice, there are not wanting men, who claim the ti- 
tle, and enjoy die privileges of American citizens^ who 
HAM employ thefflfeWcs in the odiow traffic of homao 

Yes, in direft oppofitton to poMic ienttn»em, and a 
bw of the land, there are fiups fitted ont, every year, 
in the ports of the United States, to tranfport the i»> 
j^abitants of Africa, from their native (bores, and con«> 
i^gn them to all the torments of Weft-India oppoeffion. 
I Fellow citizens ! is juftice afleep i Is hnoiaaity di£- 

] -oouraged and filent, on account of the many tnjnriev 

I tfie has fuflained ? Were not this the cafe, methinks 

ihe purfuit of the beads of the foreft would be forgotw 
fcn, and fx;cli monfters of wickedncft would, in their 
ftcad, be hunted from the abodes of mem 

Ojt a jrica ! nnbappy, ill-fitted region i how long 
iliall thy favage inhabitants have rea&n to utter coro» 
'^biuts, and to imprecate the vengeance of Heaven 
aoainil: civilrzrvtlon and Chriftianity ? Is it not enou^ 
tiijit nature's God has configned thee to arid plains, to 
noxious vnpours, to devouring beafts of prey, and to all 
the fcorching influences of the torrid zone ? Mtift rap- 
ine znd violence, captivity and flavery, be fuperadded 
to thy torments ; and be inflicVcd too by men, who 
wear the garb of juftice and humanity; who boaft 
ihe principles of a fublime morality ; and who hypo<» 
i ritically adopt the accents of the benevolent religioD 
<^f Jefus ? 

Oh Africa ! thou loud proclaimcr of the rapacity, 
•he treachery, and cruelty of civilized man f Thou «- 
orlafting monument of European and American dit 
ijrace ! " Remember not againft us our ounces, nor 
?he offences of our forefathers j be tender in the great 
^y cf inciuiry 5 and fliow aChriflian world, that iIm>ii 
' a faffer^ and fcrgive f " • 


A FoRBKWG Dispute, on the Questiojo*, . 


Capacity amd Genius eq^al. to Europeans ? . 

^ "jk JfY ofAnion is d&cldedlj.on tlic affirmative 
J[^f£ of this queflion* In this opinion I am con«» 
firmed ij Iboad argument and undeniable fa^. 

If nature has laviihed her favors on fome countries, 
and deak them out with a fparing hand in others, the 
Weftern world is far from being the fcene of her p«^- 
fimony. From a geegn^iical furveyof our country^ 
cKreftly the reverfe will appear. 

This continent, extending through all the different 
dioMtes of the earth, exhibiting on its immenfe furface 
the hnrgeft mers and lakesy and the loftieft" mountains 
ia the known worlds ihows us that nature has wrought 
on her largeft fcale on this iide the Atlantic. 

The foU is neither fo luxuriant as to indulge in 
flot^ nor fi> barren, as not to afford fufficient' leiiure* 
from HB own cuiture, to attend to that of the mind. 
Thefe are fa^, which exifted before the migration of 
our unceftors from Europe. The argument I ihall de* 
^ce from them to me appears conclufive. 

Tb( (oil and climate of every country is in fome 
m^afire chanufleriftic of the genius of its inhabitants. 
Nature is uniform ki her works.. Where flie has fitnt- 
.ed the produ&ions of th^ earth, ihe ^Afo cramps her an- 
imal produflions ; and even the mind of man. Where 
|he h«s dodied the earth with plenty, there is no d^ 
^ciency in the animate oseation $ and man arrives to 
his full vigour. 

. In the applictttion of thde phyficai caufes to our 
oatnrf^, there is ao: effect produced on the mind, as well 
.the bo4y« The mi^d: receives its tinAure feom the • 
obje^ whiidti it contemplates. This we find confiim-> 
-ed t^ the^Ojipoiitfi ienfations we feel, when viewipg a r 
beauiifpl and tiamegatcd landfeapej and plodding otir 


ft over a craggy way, or uniform, barren plain. 

Ahtte contrafted iituationsi it may almoft be {aid, 
\>(at we poflefs.two different foulsj.and ase ooc the 
fame beings. 

Thofe objeAs, which' conftantly furround ns, mu{t 
have a more permanent effiA. Where man is doomed 
oonftantly to view the imperfe£l (ketches and carica- 
ture paintings of nature, he forms a correfponding part 
of the .group }, when placed amidft her moft beautiful 
and Aiagnificent works, we find him elevated ia thought 
and complete in corporeal ftature^ 

Thefe arguments may feem far-fetched \ but when 
it is admitted that Chimborazo is higho: than Tene>- 
viffe i the Amazon and La Plata rop^iortotiie langeft 
rivers in the old world ^. and that America abounds 
\ with all the produ^ions of nature in as great plenty >as 

any country in Europe, premifes will then be eflafa- 
lifiied, from which, by my reafoning, we- (hall draw 
the conclufion, that if the Aborigines of this country 
are inferior to the favages of other parts of the^ worlds 
nature muft have cpntradifted her own firft principles. 

But the contrary muft appear to every unprejudiced 
mindy both from reafon and obfervation. It being 
granted that the favages on this continent poileis gen» 
ius and capacity, equaJ to thoie on the other, my ar- 
gument is end^ ; the affirmative of the qneftion is 
eftablilhed \ unle& thofe who diiKr frommeihould be 
able to Ihow, that, by fome proccft, or rather paradox 
of nature, the mental powers of our forefathers were 
degenerated by being ttanfplanted to a foil, at leaft, 
as congenial and ferxUe as that which gave them birth. 

Should it be any longer contended ag^nft mc, I 
fliould ftill appeal to fads, and rely on the philofophi- 
cal difcoverics and roifccUancous writings of a Franklin, 
the herdic vsJour and fegacious prudence of a Wafh- 
ington, the political refeapches of an Adams, theni> 
merous productions in pdite literature, ti^ventions and 
improvcfncnts in the ufcful arts j and efpecially that 
fbirit of cnterprize which diftinguifhes ouk ratioft. 

tta COLt7AfiUAK OR ATOlt. 

Oki thefe I (boaM rely to viadKcate thii^ honor of m)r 
country, and to combat that prejudicet which would 
degrade the capacity and genius ol Americans. 
' £. I have heard your argument with patience, and 
fhall anfwer k whh candor. It is readily granted, that 
there are as large rivers, extenfive lakes, and lofty 
mountains, in America, as in any other part of the 
worid $ but I am totally unacquainted with the art of 
meafuring the capacity and g<!nius of iben, by the 
height of the mountains they gaze upon, or the breadth 
of the river, whofe margin they chance to inhabit. 

Whether the favages of our deferts pofleis mental 
powers equal t<^tho(e of other countries, is as foreign 
to my purpofcj as the Ghimborazo, Amazon, or La 
Plata. I fhall admit your premifes, and look for tfa^ 
materials of my argcim€nt ofx<x^aund you have flight* 
ly pa^ed over, to confute the conclufion you have 
drawn from them. 

^ The qiieftion is, whether the capacfty and genius of 
Americans is equal to that of Europeans ? 

Let us adopt an unexceptionable rule; *< Judge the 
tree by its fruit." If the literary productions and 
works of genius of our countrymen are found fuperior 
lo thofe of Europeans, the affirmative of the queftion 
muft be true ; if inferior, the negative, without argu« 
ment, is fupported by faA. 

Here the balance evidently turns in my favour. 
Europe can boafl its mafters in each of the fciences, and 
its models of pcrfeftion in the polite art5. Few Amer- 
icans purfue the path of fcience ; none have progrefl^ 
ed, even fo far as thofe bold and perfevering geniufes 
of other countries, who have removed the obftades 
and fmoothed the way before theok 

If there chance to fpring up among us one whofe in- 
clination attaches him to the fine arts> the beggar's pit- 
tance, inftead of fame and profit, becomes his portion. 
He is an exotic plant,that muil be removed to ibme more 
congenial foil, or periih at home for want of culture. 
It is far froin my int^ations. to. &y any thi^i; w 

«f thole Ttff$&aiAe dsaraOersi oix mlkook 
\j to vindicate tbe literary hooor of our coao* 
But wbat win be tbe vchk of a eomparUbn be- 
een a £cw correA authpn, the mitcdHa^epxis pro- 
^uetionsi and cafual difcovcricf , which we boaft of at 
^Mir own, within 9 century p^ft; and the iong,acid 
briltisM^t catalogue of profound fcholars, celebreMd 
.writers^ and thoie exquifite fpecimens of tafte and g^- 
lii)is io the fine arts> which have adorned elinoft cverj 
country of £urQpe, within the fame period ? 
\ Thb comparifon would be di%racefol indeed to 

America. It it granted) that her Tons are induftrious, 
\ ^ brave, and enterprizing ^ but, if prudent, they will cer- 
tainly decline the conteft with moft European natiom j 
when the palm of genuis is the objeA of difpute. 
C. Different climates undoubtedly have a diSereat 
I eSeft on the bodiet and minds of thafe who inhabit 

them ; and local caufes, in the fame climate^ may t^ 
f favourable^ or adverfe to the ^m^U^^^^ powers, 

' A P^^^^ temperate atmofpbere, and romantU fc^ie* 

t fff ^6 produ6itve of clear intelleifb and brilliant imagi- 

; nation. America is iar from beiiig deficient iti thdfe 

i advantages. The oratory, councils^ and fagacity of 

^ ^ its natives, prove that their conceptions are by no means 
., ^ cramped by phyfical caufes. 

|j " This being granted, which cannot be denied, it will 

be extremely difficult to fhowa reafon, why the men* 
^1 talpowers of our anceftors, ortheir dcfcendants, fliould 

j (aSst a decay in this country, fo favourable by nature 

.; to found Judgment and brilliancy of thought. 

Inftead of forcing ourfelves into fuch an abfurd con- 

vi clttfion, we {hall make an obvious diftind^ion, which 

' will lead to a condufion, not derogatory to the Amer«> 

ic^n charader } a diftinAion between natural genius, 

and its improvement by art. One depends on natural 

caufes I the other, on the ftate of fociety. ' 

I With a well fupported claim to the fiormer, it is no 

difhonor to acknowledge ourfelves inferior to the elder 

^tioos of Europe iptbe latter, Gonfidering the Ijir, 

Tm&coLViKBuxsaLAxaaL 2^, 

fant ftatc of our counnTt'and the nature of our £ot« 
ccnmcnti wt have qwre reflfi#n'tqi4»oa[ft« ^n be afliaBi'- 
e4 of our profppe(s hi the fine 'arts. 

If not equal in this refpe^l, to our mother country^ 
we have made more rapid improvement than aiiy other ^ 
nation in the world. Ovr govexjunent and babUs are 
republican} they cherifheqi&al rights and tend to an 
ectual didFibution of property. Our mode of education 
lias the fame tendency to promote an equ^I'diftrtbutioa. 
of knowledge^ aod to make us ea)pbaticalty a ^^repob* 
lie of letters :" 1 wcMiM not be'tmderftood, adepts in 
the fine arts, but participants of ufeful. knowledge. 

In the monarchical and ariftocratic governments 
of Europe, the cafe is far different. A few privileged 
orders monopolize not only the wealth and honors, but 
. the knowledge o£th^ country. They produce a few 
profound fcholars, who make itudy the buiuiefs of their 
lives ; we acquire a portion of fcience, as a neceflary 
iafirument cf livelihoodf. and deem it abfurd to devote 
our whole lives to the acquisition of implements, with- 
out having it in our po<wer to make them uieful to 
ourfdves or others. 

They have their Ihoufands who are totally ignorant 
of letters ; we have but very few, who are not inftruft- 
ed in the rudiments of fcience. They may boaft a fmall 
number of matters in the fine arts ; we are all fcholars 
ixk the ufeful ; and employed in improving the works 
of nature, rather than imitating them. 

So ftrong is our propenfity to ufeful employments, 
and fo (ure the reward of thofe who purfue them, that 
neceffity, « the mother of invention," has reared but 
fqw profefiional poets, painters, or muficians among us.. 
Thofe, who have occafionally purfued the imitative arts^ 
fi'om natural inclinatioii,have given fuffictent proof, that 
even in -them, our capacity and genius are not inferior 
t^ tfaoie of Europeans i but th« encouragement theyr 
have met Aowi^ that tb«' ffwrit of our habits and. gov* 
eratntem tends rareher to general improvement in the 
ufeful, than partial perfe^ion in the amufiog s^rts. 


Extract from an Oration, oblitbrbci at 
Boston, March 5thy 17B0} bt Jokathan Ma^ 

SON, JUN. £9<^ 

THE rifing glory of this^weftern hemifphere is al- 
ready announced \ and (he is fummoned to her 
feat among the nations of the earth. We have pui>- 
licly declared ouHelves convinced of the deftruAive 
tendency of ftanding armies. We have acknowledged 
the neceffity of pnblic fpirit and the love of virtue, to 
the happineft of any people i and we profefs to be fen- 
fible of the great bleffings that flow from them. I^et 
us not then act unworthily of the reputable charaAicr 
we now fuftain. Let integrity of heart, the fpirit of 
freedom, and rigid virtue be feen to adluate every 
member of the commonwealth. 

The trial of our patriotifm is yet before us ; and we 
have reafon to thank Heaven, that its principles are (b 
well known and diffufed. Exertiie towards each other 
the benevolent feelings of friendflilp ; and let that uni- 
ty of fentiment, which has (hown in the field, be equal- 
ly animating in our councils. Remember that pros- 
perity is dangerous ; that though fuccefbful, we are not 

Let this facred maxim receive the dcepeft impreffion 
upon our minds, that if avarice, if extortion, if luxury, 
and political corruption, are fuffeced to become popu- 
lar among u$, civil difcord> and the ruin of our coun- 
try will be the fpeedy confequence of fuch fatal vices. 
But while patriotifm is the leading principle, and our 
laws are contrived with wifdom, and executed with 
vigour ; while induftry, frugality, and temperance, are 
held in eftimation, and we depend upon public fpirit 
and the love of virtue for our ibcial kappinefs, peace 
and ;)ffluence will throw their fmiles upon the brow o{ 
individuals; our commonwealth will fiourifh; our 
land will become a land of liberty, and AMERICA an 
afylam for the oppreflcd. 

B K i>.