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IT puzzles the faculties to conjecture what can influence the ruling men of some nations to delight in war; there appears in it a charm that compensates the toil and pain of all its votaries; the tears of humanity are unheeded, the shrieks of distress are unheard, the widowed mother, and her orphan children are unpitied, and the sweet voice of peace is overpowered by the shouts of conquest and the yell of murder !

Were such men to reflect, that when the Demon of War gives the signal for battle, and is brandishing his bloody sword, he leads his fierce hirelings to the slaughter of unoffending men, who are, perhaps, without any motives of resentment or desire of revenge : And could we survey the soldier writhing with his wounds, his mangled face besmeared with gore; could his groans be heard when he breathed his last; did we behold insatiated slaughter still stalking over the ensanguined field, thirsting for more victims to glut his rage, should we not involuntarily exclaim :Great God! why dost thou suffer such horrible calamity, such dreadful desolation? Is it possible that all men were created by thy hand, that thus by savage fury mankind destroy their fellow men, the noblest of thy works? But the ways of Heaven are unsearchable, and finite beings, limitea in understanding-the slaves of passion, the bigots of opinion, of pride, avarice, and ambition, cannot presume to question the plans of that Providence whose power is omnipotent-whose wisdom is unerring-whose decrees are unchangeable. Yet our feelings for suffering humanity cannot, nor ought they to be sup pressed.

It is the duty of every man, as far as the sphere of his influence reaches, to eradicate such sentiments from the mind, to convince the understanding that war is repugnant to the precepts of our religion; that it is a violation of the law of nature; that if we consult our feelings, we shall find them invariably revolt at the idea of death.

round the door, or swelling the chorus of their mother's song, are now, sad reverse! working in a pent-up room, immured from freedom, and, alas too often disciplined for trivial faults, inseparable from youth, not with the just and lenient hand of a parent, but by the savage and oppressive hands of ignorance and passion. Paleness and dejection now sit upon the matron's cheeks, where roseate hues of health once glowed, and which were once animated with liberty and joy.

Were those, who are ambitious of their country's renown, one moment to reflect that it must be purchased by the sufferings and the death of thousands; were they to picture to themselves what hardships (even if life is spared) soldiers experience, they would not so unhesitatingly be the advocates for wars.

Those who are housed from the inclemencies of the weather, remote from danger, unharassed by fatigue, may, without fear, fight their woundless battles; but they know not the anguish of those men, whose bosoms are exposed to the severity of every storm, who

often stand, half immersed in water, shivering in the trenches, sometimes forced to lie down on the cold ground, when exhausted nature urges them to sleep, whilst the noble cits are reposing in soft luxuriance on their downy beds.

To a reflecting mind it is particularly astonishing, that when men are conversing on this general topick with animation, they can forget the associated ideas of carnage and destruction. What exultation sparkles in the eyes when victory is announced! A health to the brave conqueror is vociferated-the cannon's thundering voice resounds-the streets glow with brilliant illuminations-shouts of joy disturb the severity of night. Poor, thoughtless beings! instead of exhibiting tokens of such extravagant joy, rather run, if ye are patriots indeed, and pour the balm of ease into the bosom of those groaning with anguish. Boston, 12th August, 1814.

SERIOUS ANECDOTE.

HE following anecdote of a British sailor is related in "Spilsbury's Picturesque Scenery in the Holy Land and Syria ;" an amusing and interesting work published by the surgeon who served on board his majesty's ship Le Tigre during the campaign of 1799

and 1800.

"DANIEL BRYAN was an old seaman of Sir Sidney Smith's ship Le Tigre he had made many repeated applications to be employed on shore during the siege of Acre; but being elderly and rather deaf, his request was net acceded to. At the first storming of the Beach, one of the French generals fell; the Turks struck off the head, stripped and man

Who does not feel the painful sensation of curdling blood at even crushing to death an insect, or a reptile? And should the image of the Deity then be so wantonly, so profusely destroyed?unnatural thought !-Already have too many thousands of men been sacrific-gled the body, and left it a prey to the dogs.

ed at this demon's shrine! What can atone

for the distracting agitation of that man's mind, who is torn from the soft bosom of domestick joys, from those dear native scenes where all around was melody and peace? What compensation can thousands of families receive for all those hardships they are obliged to suffer in those receptacles of poverty, the manufacturing workhouses? Trade being suspended, the pillars of their families have been necessitated to join the legions of their country; and perhaps forced forever, by the noxious climate, or the destroying sword, from the sight of those for whom they toiled, and from whom they received reciprocal, and endearing affection.

Dan frequently asked his messmates, when they returned from the shore, why they had not buried him; but the only reply he received was, go and do it yourself. He said he would; and having at length obtained leave to go and see the town, he went ashore with the surgeon. He provided a pick-axe, shovel, and rope; and insisted to be let down from an embrazure, close to the beach. Some of his more juvenile companions offered to attend him he replied, you are too young to be shot yet; as for me, I am old and deaf, and my loss would be no great matter." In the midst of the firing he was lowered down, and his first difficulty, not a very trivial one, was to drive away the dogs. The French then levelFrom the lowly cottage, the sweet and sim-led their pieces at him; but a French officer ple strain of cheerful industry is seldom heard. Health's sportive, chubby children, playing a

perceiving his intention, was seen to throw himself across the ranks. A dead solemn si

lence prevailed; and the worthy fellow consigned the corpse to its parent earth. He was then hoisted into the town, and the hostile firing re-commenced.

A few days afterwards, Sir Sidney, having been informed of the circumstances, ordered Dan to be called into the cabin. "Well, Dan, I hear you have buried the French General" "Yes, your honour"-" Had you any body with you?"-" Yes, your honour"-"Why, Mr. Spilsbury said you had not."-" But I had your honour."-" Ah, who had you ?"" God Almighty, Sir."-" A very good assistant, indeed! Give old Dan a glass of grog.""Thank your honour."-Dan drank his grog and left the cabin highly gratified. He is now a pensioner in the Royal Hospital at Greenwich."

POETRY.

SELECTED,

TO AN INFANT. LAUGH, sweetest wanton, guiltless sprite ! Laugh-roll again those orbs of blue;

And wave thy hand in mute delight, For, babe, to thee the world is new. Smile thou, that never frown hast prov'd ; From all but bosoms kind, remov'd; Smile thou on all, unweeting why, Too soon thou shalt have learn’d to sigh. What monarch's rule supreme as thine, Fair infant, crown'd of love alone; À mother's heart, thy realm divine, A mother's arms, thy blissful throne ! Thy unform'd sounds, thy wordless tones, The mother all enraptur'd owns ; And oft, while falls the tender tear, Breathes back to thy delighted ear.

If pain invade that infant breast,
And full the tide of sorrow flows,

Lo fondly to her bosom prest,
Thy eyes like dew-bent lilies close,
Each tear-drop shall her balmy lip
From thy cheek's faded roses sip;
Till e'en thy slumb'ring sigh be still,
And happy dreams thy fancy fill.

But soon thou hail'st the distant hour,
When manhood wakes to freedom's day
It comes-and lo, the ruthless pow'r,
Of all abhorr'd, whom all obey.

Necessity her reign prepares, And iron is the rule she bears, With snaky scourge, with ebon wand, Unwrought-unmov'd of mortal hand. Beneath her dark all-scowling glance, Hope may not draw the gallant bow, Nor Fancy weave her airy dance, Nor Love's encharmed musick flow. There be sad adepts in her lore, Who breathe the natural sigh no more, Whose tearless eyes long vigils keep, And lose the privilege to weep.

PRINTED AND PUBLISHED FOR

JOHN PARK,

BY MUNROE & FRANCIS,

NO. 4 CORNHILL.

Price three dollars per annum, half in advance.

* Subscribers may be supplied with the preceding numbers.

VOL, I.

POLITICAL.

DEVOTED TO POLITICKS AND BELLES LETTRES.

FOR THE BOSTON SPECTATOR. OUR COUNTRY'S DISGRACE. YES-Our country is indeed disgraced sufficiently disgraced to make angels and the spirits of our departed patriots weep to see it. But is not the sensibility to national character which now pervades the publick mind as incorrect, as it is tardy? It is not that generál after general sinks into infamy on the frontiers of Canada—it is not that regiment after regiment is cut up, or perish by hunger, disease, and nakedness-it is not that the British scour our coasts, at pleasure, and not a sail to oppose them-and, last of all, it is not that a few troops land in the centre of our territory and with scarcely the name of opposition take possession of the capital of the United States, and the many millions of publick property, which have been deposited there, as if by the hand of a traitor, that it might be destroyed. These are but the consequences, the probable, natural consequences of placing such men in power, as now possess it, and of their declaring an unjust, criminal war, at which the mind of every good man in the United States revolts with horror and disgust. This is the foul blot on our national character, which we ought truly to regret; the cause, both of our calamities and our disgrace-and it is the crime for which we must expiate, by suffering the evils, which, in the common course of man events, such crimes produce. The contemptible drunkard is not disgraced by the particular kind of folly he utters, in his state of inebriety, nor by his staggering, falling, or get ting his face bruised by running against unoffending passengers. His disgrace is that he got drunk-wilfully abandoned the exercise of his reason, and the command of his physical energies that he swallowed the dose, which he might know would at once render him insolent, and impotent, a just subject of the derision and scorn of mankind.

The deplorable situation into which our country is reduced has not been brought upon it by surprise. The men, who have elected and supported Mr. Madison and his coadjutors, chose him, because his language and conduct were a pledge for the measures he has adopted. He did not even redeem his pledge rashly. He advanced step by step-the tendency of his measures was as plain as noonday-consistent and undeviating. His party all saw it-they stimulated-they applauded they threatened if he faultered. A WICKED, CAUSELESS WAR was the inevitable consequence of the system of administration he adopted and as this was effected for the sole purpose of securing party power, it was to have been expected, and it has been the fact, that the measures, pursued under the garb of carrying on the war, would not be to defend or strengthen the country, but TO STRENGTHEN THE PARTY. But we, whose hands are clean, and whose hearts are pure, from this iniquity, what share have we in the infamy of its perpetrators? In justice, we have NONE. Let us vigorously, loudly, and perseveringly claim our right of exemption. Let us not

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plead guilty to the world-and the world will character and control its measures, had no not condemn us. We opposed Mr. Madison's part in this unprincipled war, but had made election; we gave our suffrages against his every possible exertion against it, but actual partisans we wrote, spoke, petitioned, and pro- insurrection-that this body of men, probably tested against his measures. We have unhap- as large proportion as would be found to act pily been a minority: this was not our crime, correctly in any country where all act, stood but our misfortune. We were obliged to sub-high in every respect, but political power. mit, and sustain the evils, heaped on us, by That of this they had none and were not profligate rulers, or abandon our country and therefore responsible for its abuse. That, conevery thing dear ;-for, being a minority in scientiously disapproving the war, and not exercise of our suffrages, we could not even believing that the act of a rabble government promise ourselves success, nor safety and hon- made that right, honourable, or expedient, our to our country, by a just rebellion. The which was in its nature wrong, they could not government of our nation is engaged in a and did not engage in the contest, while the shameful cause-and manages its cause in hostilitic of the encny appeared to be solely character. Let us draw the line, as reason directed against the means of the administradictates; we have a right to the sympathy of tion, and not against the lives or property of the world, and do not deserve its scorn: but individuals. That it was not the quarrel of the we must shew our consciousness of innocence, people, but of a party; and that the party, with by honestly declaring we feel no disgrace; their chi fs, were allowed to be as improvident, and above all, at this late hour, when allop- or as cowardly as they chose, and to take the position has proved fruitless, and the folly of consequences. To shew the difference between our rulers has whelmed them in embarrass- a war of our nation, and the war of a faction, I ments of their own creating, let us not enlist would revert to the history of our revolutioneither in feeling or action, in their cause. to our cheerful sacrifices-our noble exertions The administration and their friends are des- and our success. As to personal contempt, I perate-they calculate to force us into their should fear none, having never been a demoranks, by proclaiming that the country is now crat-never a supporter of Mr. Madison-never invaded-they exert their utmost ingenuity by an advocate for his war. I was not given up insidious appeals to our patriotism, which they by Hull and never ran with Wilkinson. would pervert to their own purposes. But, thank kind Heaven, which still watches over human events, the conduct of a powerful but discriminating enemy, magnanimously gives the lie to the impostures, which our rulers propagate. They do not make war on unoffending citizens-they have proved, in the most striking and honourable manner, that they have not come for conquest or to deal vengeance on individual citizens. Where they find Mr. Madison's instruments of war, there they direct their attention. There they march destroy them, and stop. We have already this consoling evidence that the ignominy of the governing party will not be affixed to the whole nation. The British appear to know well that their enemies are our curse-their sole object is to humble a base, provoking, mischievous faction, and neither to conquer territory, nor to spread devastation, where they need not expect offence.

But will it not be disgraceful to the whole nation abroad, that a few troops took possession of the federal seat of government, and were resisted but by five thousand men? who can shew his face in Europe, and bear such a reproach? Such remarks are now frequently made ;-and to them I will reply.

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The historian of our republick will state, that from the establishment of our independence, to the year 1800, our country rose in power, wealth, and national respectability, in a manner unprecedented in the annals of nations-but that at that time, owing to the too popular cast of our political constitution, the wise and virtuous patriots who had guided our publick concerns, were superseded by men, who had availed themselves of those intrigues and false professions, which, in a democracy, promise success to the base and undeserving. That the administration was changed, and from that time, all its measures were directed, not by a regard to the publick good, but to the aggrandisement of party. That it was considered the interest of this party to destroy our commercial prosperity, and they destroyed it-to sacrifice our rights and honour to the tyrant of France, and they were sacrificed-to foment prejudices and a hatred against Great Britain, and carry them to an extent, leading directly to the catastrophe, war--and war was declared-on pretences which the world know to be insignificant or false, and for which, the party using them, felt not the smallest interest.

Such will be the record of the historianand it is this revolution alone that disgraces our COUNTRY-the consummate folly which has marked every stage of the war, attaches exclusively to the PARTY IN POWER, who had the resources of the nation at command, and either were totally incapable, or did not dare

to use them.

We should always have the fortitude to seek only and value only the good opinion of the intelligent part of mankind and disregard that censure which is founded on ignorance. Let us act well our part with boldness and integrity, and truth will triumph at last. Were I to visit Europe, after such an event, or any other event of the kind, the bearings Would we now attempt to redeem the charof such facts must either affect me as belong-acter of the country, it cannot be done, but by ing to the American nation, or personally. In shewing that virtue again triumphs-by putdefence of my country I would say, that nearly ting down base, profligate, ignorant men. By one half of the citizens of the United States, meeting nations who are willing to be just and and those such as, in any government but one honourable, in a just and honourable manner. constructed like ours, would decide the nation's This we must do, if we feel for our honour

or regard our prosperity. We cannot consis tently attempt to bring Mr. Madison and his cabal triumphantly out of his dilemma. We cannot wish him success-for in a moral point of view, it would be wrong-in a political point of view, it would be wishing to establish over ourselves an administration, which has laboured for nothing but our dishonour and ruin, and which from its essential character, can never be other than a reproach and scourge to our country.

THE TAKING OF WASHINGTON.... DESTRUCTION OF THE CAPITOL AND ARSENAL. WITH that freedom, which we claim as the right of a citizen of the United States, and which we trust will not be denied us by publick opinion, we have endeavoured to make a proper distinction between the disgrace of the administration and the disgrace of the nation, and particularly of the large and honourable class, called federalists. We have said, to make a distinction, but it was rather to recognize the distinction, which is already made, by the true state of facts. We wish no other distinction than appears to us obviously existing in the nature of the case.

The British have taken possession of Washington, the desert seat of government-they have blown up the Capitol, where a cabal denounced war against them, and the President's house, where the declaration was signed. They have taken or destroyed the publick arsenal, which was under the immediate guardianship of the Executive.

We have so many real subjects of regret and mortification, it is worth while to inquire

whether this is so or not.

It is a loss to the nation-but a loss, which, considering the present scale of expense, amounts in comparison to a mere trifle. One week of that expense, to which the nation is now every week exposed, will replace every thing. So far, and no farther is the nation concerned. But it affects Mr. Madison-the

cabinet-the whole administration deeply.

An army of twenty or thirty thousand regular troops have been placed at the disposal of the President. The whole militia of the country, amounting to some hundred thousand men, were at his command. The arsenal of the United States at Washington alone, contained some hundred pieces of artillery, with abundant munitions of war.

For months, it has been proclaimed in this country, and perfectly well known to the Executive, that, besides the considerable force already stationed by the British in the Chesapeake, a large reinforcement was soon to be expected under Admiral Cochran, and that the Chesapeake was the point of his destination. Common sense must have informed the President, that the destruction of the aepot of military and naval stores at Washington would be the most important object to the British. He took no step for its defence. On the contrary, he continued to strip that place and the whole Atlantick coast of its best means of securityhe sent both his troops and seamen to the western frontier, for the invasion of Canada! He waged a war of the most aggravated provocation-placed his army as far as possible from the threatened scene of the enemy's operations and thus,as though he had received the wages of iniquity, invited the British to the very step they have taken.

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cutive's to guard the publick property at Washington, at once so tempting and so exposed? We feel assured that on this occasion, so plain, so absolutely incapable of the least apology, publick indignation must fall where it ought. It will crush Mr. Madison, and his cabinet. The Virginians had no motive to rush to Washington to defend property, which is equally foreign to them and us. They, exThey, exhausted as they were, and watching over the safety of their own families and property, could not fly from their homes; stronger claims than the honour of him who had so shamefully abandoned them, kept them from the scene of action; nor were they even called, until the blow was struck.

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AS was to have been expected, the democratick papers begin to howl in a woful strain of alarm, that the British have come to con

quer this country, and place it on the list of ber colonies. Such impostors would do well first to stop all accounts from the southward.

The British marched to Washington, a small body of about 6,000 men. They destroyed some three or four publick buildings and a few millions' worth of ships, cannon, military and naval stores then quietly and voluntarily step

Now can we regret that Mr. Madison has vented his disgrace? Can we wish that it not been so wise in wickedness, as to have prehad been practicable for citizens voluntarily to have braved the danger, and won a triumph for Mr. Madison and the administration, and that they had done it? Do we wish to see that power perpetuated which has brought us to the verge of ruin? If not, the loss of the Capitol is no subject of lamentation. It pur-ped into their boats and went on board their General Winder, or somebody chases a grave for democracy; there let it transports! lie buried in infamy, and America will be born again and rise in a new existence. If our ill-fated country is not to suffer for its madness, for its spurning the best blessings heav en could bestow, this event is the precursor of national regeneration, and we cannot but incline to this hope with patriotick enthu

siasm.

else, has looked up Mr. Madison and the Secretaries-informed them that the British had quitted terra firma; and they are again safe and sound, waiting at Washington to receive the congratulations of Congress on their health and spirits. All this looks mightily like an intention, in the British, to colonize America!

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GENERAL REGISTER.

FOREIGN. London dates to the 16th of July are received by the way of Halifax.

In Spain there seems to be no approach, as yet, to a state of publick tranquillity. Since Ferdinand returned, he has caused no fewer than 4000 arrests. A considerable disturbance

But it may be otherwise. The genius of folly, which has long presided over our nation, has, more than once, perverted what might have been the occasion of a happy revolution, BOSTON, SATURDAY, SEPT. 3, 1814. into the means of plunging us deeper into errour and embarrassment. There is but plain unsophisticated love of country on the one side; and on the other, a host of petty, selfish, aspiring though blind passions, to draw us into the vortex, which, if shunned, could We trust that sad only engulf democracy. experience and our accumulating calamities We trust the mass of the people will feel that may at last direct us in the path of wisdom. the failure and utter degradation of our rulers will open to us the prospect of peace, happiness, and future glory; and that their triumph would only protract an unjust and ruinous war, and ultimately fix upon us an unprincipled tyranny. Let them once completely involve the whole physical energies of the republick in their cause and then

"Prosperum et felix scelus Virtus vocatur. Sontibus parent boni. Jus est in armis, opprimit leges timor."

We have very often heard persons exclaim, with reference to Mr. Madison, "What does this madman expect-does he not see that his war will ruin him? From the federalists, he cannot get assistance nor countenance, and even his own party, the democrats, will soon grow tired of their reverses and the common suffering."

It remains yet to be ascertained, whether Mr. Madison is not deep enough to manage the whole country, as he pleases; and by this very war, to bring the federalists themselves into the list of his supporters, which he never could have done in peace. We see the progress of his deep-laid scheme with sickness at heart. Mr. Madison is on the very brink of Is not such conduct outrageous and criminal destruction-the crisis of his policy has arrivin the blackest degree? Was it Governoured. He provoked the British into the ChesaStrong's duty-was it Governour Smith's, peake-he lured them to Washington, by its Snyder's, or any other man's duty but the Exe- stores of munitions of war and its weakness.

took place at Madrid early in June, but the ringleaders were secured. Ferdinand's advi ser is said to be the Duke del Infantado.

A serious riot has likewise taken place in Strasburgh, between the garrison and a corps of 3500 prisoners, who refused to wear the white cockade. The Parisians are likewise said to avail themselves very freely of their newly obtained liberty of speech.

The Emperour of Russia, the King of Prus sia, and a large number of foreign princes and nobility left London, on the 22d of June. The king of Prussia has returned by the way of Paris; the Emperour Alexander passed through Holland, visited the house of Czar Peter, and the dock where he engaged himself a work

man.

The intended marriage of the Prince of Or ange and the Princess Charlotte is not to take place. The Prince has returned to Holland. 3rd of July, and was attended by the shouts Lord Wellington arrived at Dover on the and acclamations of the people to his residence in Hamilton place.

Clay were at Ghent, on the 1st of July, Mr. Our ministers, Bayard, Adams, Russel, and Gallatin was expected immediately.

No British ministers had arrived, nor does it appear that they had left London.

DOMESTICK. On the 16th of August, a

British squadron arrived in Chesapeak bay. 18. A part of their ships entered Patuxent river, and a part ascended the Potomack. 19. British troops began to land at Bene

dict, on the Patuxent, 47 miles east of Wash-She brought no splendid gifts to the publick ington. 20. 21.

On their march towards Washington. 22. In Nottingham, 17 miles S. E. of Washington. Commodore Barney's flotilla, in the Patuxent, blown up. Removal of the publick papers from the several offices in Washington. 23. British at Oden's farms and Marlborough. 24. British advance. General Winder commanding our troops, falls back upon the city. A battle takes place at Bladensburg. General Winder retreats to Washington. 25. British about 6,000 strong, under Lieut. Gen. Ross, take possession of Washington! blow up the Capitol and President's housedestroy the navy yard, and munitions of war General Winder reto a great amount. treats into Virginia. The British withdraw from Washington and proceed towards their points of embarcation-unmolested!!

altars of the Muses, but loved them in retire-
ment, and sought their favour among their
secret haunts.

Let not my fair and fashionable friends startle at the idea of a lady of learning; Cornelia neglected nothing in favour of her book, which would make her more useful at home, or which was necessary to enable her to appear, with the nicest propriety, at a party or a ball. It has been already said, that she had no taste for ornaments; but she had a very correct one in dress. In this particular, she was always plain, but the best judges pronounced her elegant. None of her time was wasted in planning new decorations or altering old ones; and she would get through a volume, whilst others were new setting a cap or trimming a bonnet. As her dress was simple, she saved also a great deal of time in putting it on. I have known her assist a whole afternoon in dressing her cousin Livia for a ball, and preBaltimore is making every possible prepa-pare herself, in less than half an hour, for the ration that circumstances will permit, for defence, expecting its zeal for the war may have entitled it to the next attack.

26.

A town meeting is called in this town this day, to consider the report of a committee on our present state of defence.

We regret to state that his Excellency Gov ernour Strong was so indisposed on Wednesday, as to be unable to attend Commencement.

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ments.

FOR THE BOSTON SPECTATOR.

THE WRITER, No. XVII.
Pierias umbras secessus Camoenarum exquirit.

same party. She was neither a votary to fash-
ion, nor transgressor of her laws. Her ap-
pearance was always regulated by her sense
of propriety, and this taught her equally to
avoid a negligence of the prevailing modes in
dress, or a studied attention to them. The
person of Cornelia, therefore, had none of that
glare about it, which usually attracts the no-
tice of the generality of men, but, when once
this notice was attracted, it was fixed; there
was a sort of charm about her, which increas-
ed its magick as you approached the object,
and which, upon a near acquaintance, men of
taste would not easily resist. The sentiment,
however, which she inspired, was pure and
elevated. She was never toasted in a tavern,
for she was not celebrated as a belle, and the
most rude of her acquaintance would have
felt it a sort of profanation to make use of her
name, at any improper time or place. She
was not followed about by a train of lovers,
for she encouraged no one to tell the secrets
of his heart, till she felt a prepossession in her
own. Cornelia had this prepossession at
twenty-one, and she, united herself, at that age,
to a man altogether worthy of her.

In the cultivation of her mind she had learned the appropriate duties of the female charIn my last essay I introduced to my read-acter; and she always made them her pecuers two Ladies, to whom I claimed the honour liar study. If therefore her deportment was of being related; and having given the lead- amiable and becoming as a single lady, she is ing traits in the character of one of them, with still more dignified and respectable since higher duties have devolved upon her. She is ever the result of that system of education which is the most favoured at the present day, I referred to, as an example for her sex; and, in shall now return to the other, and, in continu- the interesting relations of a wife and a mothing the story of Cornelia, give the picture of er, the example is most perfect. She considers home as her proper sphere of action; here a person very different from that of her cousin, and perhaps in the sequel, afford an oppor- she delights to shine; her ideas of happiness tunity to judge, of the comparative advantages principally centre here, and whoever sees her of their different manners and accomplish-in the midst of her family, will be impressed with higher notions of human felicity than Cornelia began early to cultivate her un- they ever entertained before. The managederstanding; and in proportion as she enrichment, and the education of children, she coned this, she thought the less of those external siders ought always to be the most important concern of a parent, and the appearance, beand showy acquirements, which catch the idle gaze of the world, but never bring, to thehaviour, and improvement of hers, are delight ful proofs that bosom panting for durable pleasures, any she has never neglected real enjoyment, nor any happiness that is last-his charge. Her own talents have qualified ing. She considered the mind, as the pearl of her to direct and superintend their education, and instruct them in the rudiments of literature, great price; and that all the time, laid out or spent upon her person, must be lest, when, in the principles of virtue, and honour; and Cora few years, that person would fade and decay; nelia not only shews these children as her but that every moment, given to the improve- richest jewels, but has the merit also of havment and polish of the mind, was ctioyed to ing given them their polish with her own higher advantage, and would be repaid with bands., unabating pleasures even in old age.

She did not court learning for the fame of it, but for its advantages and its real pleasures.

**By accident, the following motto, for the head of the last Writer, was omitted.

-Iila neque Lares neque Penates veneratur.

BELINDA.

143

By far the largest proportion of those countless productions, which are thrown upon the publick, under the description of Novels, are written only for the purpose of gratifying the feelings, by holding them engaged in an interesting story, and closing the narrative in such a manner as shall leave the mind pleased with the result. Some writers have aimed to give this species of composition another recommendation-they draw their pictures as accurately as possible from life, with a view to inform the mind, by thus illustrating the human character. Others again indulge the still higher aim, of luring the reader to the perusal of moral essays, by interspersing them, in occasional chapters through the story. This method has been adopted by some very celebrated writers, but we have been inclined to think, with very little success. If the narrative be conducted with talent, our curiosity and sympathies will be warmly excited for the fate of the hero or heroine; not one in a thousand will have patience to read the moral chapter, but rush on with the history. We should even venture to say, these essays however excellent in themselves, had better be totally omitted; and generally do more harm than good. Thus introduced, they give the lecture an obtrusive character, and probably create a prejudice in the minds of many, against this kind of reading in any shape; they produce a sense of disappointment, not unlike that which we experience at finding an advertisement of Lottery Tickets, in our publick journals, tricked out in disguise, and inserted among articles of important intelligence.

Miss EDGEWORTH" Belinda" is constructed on a plan for combining all the excellencies of this class of productions. The tale is deeply interesting, abounding to an uncommon is so well concealed that it is impossible to andegree in lively incidents. The denouement ticipate it to the very last pages; a circumstance which keeps the imagination in full exercise throughout. Human nature is faithfully represented in most of the characters; and though the rank of some of the agents are foreign to our country, where we have neither Lords nor Ladies, the occurrences are not without their parallels, even in Boston. The work is rich in valuable sentiment, and practical morality; not detached from the body of the relation, but flowing in the language of essential part the leading personages, so as to constitute an of the story. The reader cannot wish a more interesting plot, and on concluding it, will be strongly impressed with these grand truths, that virtue is the true road to happiness; and that in our intercourse with the world, our passions are dangerous guides, and our safest pilots, reason and religion.

"I looked upon her as one of the thoughtless, good-natured people, who, as the common saying is, do nobody any har but themselves.”

"It is difficult in society," said Mr. Percival," especially for women, to do harm to themselves, without doing harm to others. They may begin in frolick, but they must end They defy the world the world in malice. in return excommunicates them-the female outlaws become desperate, and make it the business and pride of their lives to disturb the peace of their sober neighbours. who have lowered themselves in the pubick opinion cannot rest without attempting to bring others to their own level.”—Belinda, vol. II. p. 10. Wells and Lilly's edition.

Women

The "Letter to Lord Baron" will be inserte!

DR. PARK,

POETRY,

An altered and incorrect Copy of the following having appeared in the Analectic Magazine, the poem is now offered for publication in the Boston Spectator, as originally written.

Boston, September 1, 1814.

STANZAS

ON A VIEW OF NEWSTEAD PARK, BELONGING TO A SEAT
LATE THE PROPERTY OF THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LORD
BIRON.* 1813.

FROM Scenes like these, that far and wide,
Rise and expand in sylvan pride,
Where fickle man might find in range
From hill to vale, congenial change;
From scenes whose very hues impart
Good, and gay cheerfulness of heart,
Could e'er their reckless owner roam,
With guilt and gloom to find a home?
To wander, like the exil'd ghost,
From heavenly fields forever lost,
Doom'd, with Elysium yet in view,
His wayward rovings to pursue,
Where tosses Doubt's tumultuous sea
Thy shatter'd wreck, Depravity!

Degenerate Gordon! not like thee
Have prov'd thy nobler ancestry.
Nor rambling taste, nor thirst of gain,
From them had wrung their lov'd domain.
Naught lur'd them from their native hall,
But fatal honour's sternest call.
Their only signal to depart,
The beating of a loyal heart;
That, when Culloden's crimson'd bed
Heav'd with the dying and the dead,
Follow'd its guiding beams afar,
Till set in blood the STUART STAR :
While heaven and earth combin'd to sign
The ruin of that royal line!

Son of the Muse-celestial guide!
Wont to inspire far purer pride-
Son of the Muse, had gold the power
To win from thee thy classick bower?
Of Byron 'should it e'er be told,
His birthright barter'd was-for gold!
Alas! for thou hast sold yet more
Than fragile dome, or earth-born store
And Virtue mourns, in early day,
A brighter birthright cast away :
What time delirious passion's bowl
Dissolv'd thy priceless pearl, the soul !†
O crown'd by heav'n with youth and health,
And mental hoards, and worldly wealth,
Vain the vast patrimony's aid ;-
Thy debt on high has ne'er been paid.
Thy means, perverted from the aim
That had discharg'd the loftiest claim ;
Guilt's lawless traffick lost for thee
The treasures of futurity!

Yet might it be thyself-thy song
Are causelessly accus'd of wrong;

That tell-tale Fame, though still believed,
Has still as constantly deceiv'd ;

And thy free soul, unleagued with ill,`
Retains its guardian Angel still,
Who, when temptation's fiends assail'd,
Has wrestled for thee, and prevail'd :-

Since sold by his lordship, for a sum passing the Writer's recollection. See British papers of the time. † " "The pearl of the soul may be melted away."

Moore,

If so-the burning blush suffuse,

The bitterest tear bedim the Muse;
To find it false, were cause to rue,
Unequall'd, save-to find it true!

Yet must the mind misgive thy lot,
That lingers on this pictur'd spot;
Gazes its many beauties o'er,
And still returns to number more.
Musing what bliss 'twere here to find
A solace for the wearied mind.
When, long sustain'd the various parts
Of publick trust, in arms or arts,
Blessing and blest, how fitly here
Might pause from toil a British Peer!
Be welcom'd by the well-known shade,
Where many a truant prank he play'd ;
And taste the fruit and pluck the flower,
Creations of his earlier hour.

From courts and camps, in groves like those, Thy hero, Blenheim ! found repose.

To breathe the calm that such inspire,
Would awful Chatham's self retire.
And sacred ever be the shade,
Where, matchless Burke ! thy form was laid,
When, pond'ring all thy country's woes,
The Genius of Prescience rose,
And spread such visions to thy sight,
As check'd the spirit's hastening flight,
And stopp'd of age the coming night;
Bidding, as erst in Ajalon,

The mental sun not yet go down!

Beside that bright and tranquil stream
How pleasant to recline and dream!
Listening the while its gentle sound
Not even fairy ear might wound,
Nor passing Zephyr dare molest
The sacred quiet of its breast,
In gay translucency complete,
Yet mild as bright-O emblem meet!
The very heaven assign'd the just,
That haunt of beatifick trust,
Where no defilement enters e'er,

Seems scarce more fair, more calm, more clear.
Byron from this, and could'st thou pass?
Perchance because its faithful glass
To thy inquiring glance has shown
Features, the contrast of its own.
Far other images might find
Access to that distemper'd mind.

The dark wave warring 'gainst the shore,
The wild cascade's eternal roar,
What scorns, or what maintains control,
Suits the stern habit of thy soul.

Where opes yon vista to disclose
Deep blushing how th' horizon glows,
'Twere sweet to watch the sun descend,
Like patriarch or like patriot's end.
The radiance of whose parting light
Gleams far athwart the grave's long night,
And glances to that distant shore,
Where suns arise, to set no more.

Or where that hill's serener brow
O'erlooks the bustling world below,
Wait till that glorious orb arise,
And ride along the nether skies.

A warrior, awful to assail,

With fiery lance and golden mail ;
Who, while his own impassive form
Derides of earth and heaven the storm,
Has ireful shafts so swift, so sure,
That mortal strength can ne'er endure ;
When that, in vengeance like a God,
O'er scorching realms he proudly trod,
But oftener when he glads the view,
Like as a God in bounty too.

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Painting the flow'ret and the stone,

With tints without his touch unknown ;

Aiding the labours of the swain ;

Granting to life its feast of grain ;

The holiest heart was e'er bestow'd,

Might hail him on his heavenly road,
And pardon that the pagan knee
Had bent in fond idolatry.

Sweet scene, farewell! Although these eyes
Behold thee but through mimick dyes;
Though ne'er my step may wander o'er
To ancient Albion's distant shore ;
Yet for this semblance shall my heart
Long bless the imitative art.

But thou whose meed it was to know
The substance of this shadowy show,
At will to visit such a shrine,

With the high consciousness-'twas thine;
Could'st thou-whate'er the Syren call-
From such an Eden fly-self driven?
Its social bower, its festive hall,

Its lawns, its waters, woods, its all ;-
"O how could'st thou renounce, and hope to be
forgiven?"

FOR THE BOSTON SPECTATOR.
OCCASIONAL ODE,

WRITTEN FOR A MEETING OF THE CLASS, WHO RECEIVED
THE DEGREE OF MASTER OF ARTS.

By a Member.

Tune---" Ye Mariners of England.”

ONCE more we're met together,
On Harvard's classick ground;
Then swell the notes of mirth and love,
Exulting in the sound.

Let youthful friendships here revive,
And glow with warmer flame;
Long as time, may they shine!
And ever be the same;

For nought shall e'er dissolve the ties,
That hold so strong a claim.

O'er life's rough journey treading,

The joys we mingled here,

Before the world had stung our hearts,

Shall every sorrow cheer.

And every feud shall be forgot,

That once our pleasures crost,

Ne'er again they shall stain,

(In dark oblivion lost)

The tablet of a classmate's heart
Where once their waves were tost

The early grave of Cooper,

Where Memory loves to dwell,

The spot where Reed and Williams sleep,
Must sure each discord still.

Then as our little band dissolves,

By death asunder riven,

Closer twined, as we're thinn'd,

Be every fault forgiven!

Until it meets to break Lo more,

And joins again in heaven.

Come then, dear band of brothers,
Around this social board,

Throw for a while life's cares away;

Be harmony restored!

And since we ne'er may meet again,

Fill high the sparkling bowl.

Let us taste, Reason's feast,
Amink the flow of soul.
Our friendships pledge in life's bright hour,
And when its tempests roll.

BOSTON PUBLISHED BY JOHN PARK.

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