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sentiment; a regard to the rhyme will almost necessarily dictate the one or the other.

Even writers of the first order have sometimes been betrayed, by the seduction of rhyme into inharmonious and unpoetical composition, which could not have escaped them in blank verse. Pope has hazarded the following couplet ;

"Unfinish'd things one knows not what to call, Their generation's so equivocal."

And Dryden in his rhyming tragedy of Aurengzebe has written :

"Are you so lost to shame ?

Morat, Morat, Morat, you love the name
So well, your every question ends in that,
You force me still to answer you, Morat."

Such miserable jingle as this, is little better than Sternhold's eke also, and almost deserves a place with the following notable stanza :

"And Og the giant large, And Basan king also, Whose land, for heritage,

He gave his people—tho."

Another argument against the use of rhyme, of too much weight to be omitted, is that it produces a tiresome similarity of expression in different poems. The rhyming vocabulary being, in every language, exceedingly small, in comparison with that of words proper for verse, every versifier necessarily turns his thoughts to the same strings of rhyming words which have been hacknied by former poets; and it is scarcely possible, especially on similar subjects, that the same rhymes should not frequently suggest to different writers similar ideas and expressions. Perhaps this circumstance, more than any other, has contributed to produce the appearance of imitation in the writings

of modern English poets, and to encourage an idea, by no means just, that the subjects of poetry are almost exhausted, and that genius will, in this late age, in vain attempt any thing

new.

Rhyme, then, instead of being an ornament, may be pronounced, in general, an incongruous appendage, and a troublesome incumbrance of verse. In works of wit and humour, indeed, such as those of Butler and Swift, rhyme possesses its proper province, and may be advantageously retained, as a source of unexpected and whimsical combinations :-but from every other kind of poetical composition, however bold the innovation, it might, perhaps, be a real improvement to dismiss it altogether. The good sense and correct taste of modern times has detected the absurdity of decking tragedy in the trim dress of rhyme what is wanting, but a due attention to the subject, to extend the proscription, which has banished rhyme from the English stage, to all serious poetry?

POETRY.

FOR THE BOSTON SPECTATOR.

THE SOLDIER'S FUNERAL.

A FRAGMENT,

"Curæ leves lequantur, ingentes stupent."

HOW happy is the Peasant's life,
No grief nor cares to him are known;
The rich man's pain, the Patriot's strife,
The Victor's shout, the dying groan
Of those who fought and bravely fell,
And hears with unconcern
The deeds which minstrels tell.

No cloud obscur'd the azure heav'n,
And all was calm and still at ev'n-
The Sun, in awful splendour sheen,
Still lingering in the west was seen,
Gilding the mountain's hoary brow,
Now glittering in the vale below,
Then playing on the waters blue,
Again it promised to renew
A better, brighter day.

What is that dread and mournful sound
Of distant trumpet breath'd around?

A martial train have gain'd the height,
Descending soon, their helmets bright
Have caught the last receding light

Reflective to its source.

In lengthen'd file the troops divide,
And winding by the hillock side,
Far up the glen and valley wide

With firmer step move on;
No pennon, banner, guidon there
Play'd in the breeze with wavings fair
Or floated on the midway air.
But all was silent, gloomy, still,
Save when the trump and drum alone,
Re-echoing round that mountain lone,
Struck on the ear with lingering tone.
Advancing they have pass'd the dale,
In closer body now they vail,
And nearer yet they come.

With arms revers'd and downcast eye
The Warrior band approaches nigh.
In march that's measur'd, solemn, slow,
Clad in habiliments of woe.
Why are they here, at close of day,
With muffled drum, and dark array ?
That hearse with sable canopied
Forebodes a gallant Soldier fled,

Proclaims a comrade's gone!

A war-horse there by grooms was led,
With mournful pace and solemn tread,
Faithful and proud, who oft has borne
In weary march and battle storm
The war-worn veteran, now no more.

The spurs and brand upon the bier
Were laid; and many a straggling tear
Bewept the fate of him who fell,
Unknowing yet they knew so well.

The Soldier's worth, his birth and fame ?
I ask'd a stranger by.
Unknown his parentage and name,
His worth his deeds can tell.
Returning from a distant war,
His bosom gash'd with many a scar,
To rest in Peace at home.

Scarce had he press'd his native shore,
His sorrows and his troubles o'er,
And hope had stay'd the rising sigh
With thought and expectation high,
That he should meet the warm embrace,
The kindly welcome, smiling face,
From children, wife, and friend,
When Fever from his iron throne
Had watch'd the victim for his own,
The Warrior for his prey.

The Stranger paus'd, was loth to stay;
I saw him dash a tear away;
"Twas nature's offering, nature's sigh,
The gift of Sensibility.

I, too, have mark'd the rosy spring,
When life, upon a fleeting wing,

On Youth's fair morning shone ;
And I have seen the lightning fire
Dart from the eye of fond desire,
And with a gleam begone.

Say, Friendship, can thy chain, which binds
In Fancy's wreaths congenial minds,
Say, shall they fade away?

Must they from storms of Winter's sky
Like simple, transient flowrets die,
And bloom again no more ?

Those blossoms, mantling life's career,
Are strew'd by Him who plac'd us here.
Should tears as dew-drops deck the flow'r,
Yet flourishes the roseate bow'r,
Perennial and eternal there.

In saving others fought could save
The bravest and the best ;
Receive the honour virtue claims

And sleep belumber of the brave!

But see, the troop have reach'd the shore:
And hark, the trumpet's blast once more→→
The muskets flash upon the wave,
The last sad signal o'er his grave;
The long reverberated roar,
With ing fife and rolling drum,
And gleam of torch within the dell,
The Soldier's long and sad fare wel,
Declare the task is done.

FOR THE BOSTON SPECTATOR.

TO CAROLINE.
Mar the world, my dear Caroline, never impart
is cares and its sorrows to thee;
May the arrow of pain ne'er be fix'd in the heart,
Where I know there is friendship for me.

But the purest of pleasures, unmingled with care,
Dear Girl, may they ever be thine,

And thy friendship, if others thy friendship can share, Be as true and as constant as mine.

May thy bosom, my friend, be as calm and serene,
As the bosom of Angels above;

May no shades of Inconstancy darken life's scene,
When it once is enlighten'd by Love.

May the beams of Contentment, life's passage illume:
May Sorrow ne'er call thee to weep ;

But may Hope e'er enlighten thy path to the tomb,
Where the friend of my bosom shall sleep.

And when thou art call'd to "the mansions of light,”
From the world's busy scenes and its cares,
The Angels, thy sisters, shall greet with delight,
A Spirit congenial with theirs.

P. R. H.

CORRECTION. The concluding stanza of “The last Rose of Summer" should have read thus--

So soon may I follow
When Friendships decay,
And from Love's shining circle
The gems drop away!
When true hearts lie wither'd
And fond ones are flown,
Oh! who would inhabit
This bleak world alone?

BOSTON PRINTED AND PUBLISHEN FOR JOHN PARK, BY MUNROE & FRANCIS, NO. 4, CORNHILL

DEVOTED TO POLITICKS AND BELLES LETTRES.

VOL. I.

POLITICAL.

FOR THE BOSTON SPECTATOR.

REMARKS ON SOME PARTS OF THE PRESI-
DENT'S MESSAGE. [CONCLUDed.]

THE great change in favour of England, we acknowledge was not foreseen by our wisest statesmen; but every man of common sense foresaw, that the declaration of war would leave our whole seacoast exposed and at the mercy of the enemy, even if Soult had massacred every Englishman on the peninsula. It is pitiful, ridiculous, and insulting to our understandings to pretend, that our danger has grown out of the improbable pacification of Europe. The weakness of the United States results from our extent of seacoast; brave as our citizens certainly are, when disciplined, they cannot defend it. Two or three ships imposed what terms they pleased in Alexandria-about fifteen hundred men took possession of Washington. Six thousand men might destroy every assailable seaport town and city in the United States, by threatening an attack where it was not intended, diverting our ar mies from the real object, and falling upon our cities, unprepared, in irregular succession. Now Mr. Madison will not soberly pretend that in 1812, Great-Britain could not have sent six thousand men to the coast of America, without an effort that would have been perceived by the nation. The really augmente ed means of the enemy are therefore no excuse for his madness. The evils which we have experienced did not depend upon such contingencies; they were probable; they were morally certain, as sure as war was declared. Before that ill-fated day, the hall of Congress resounded with warnings of the danger, when Lord Wellington's army were pledged for the security of Spain and Portugal. Various sections of the country entreated our infatuated rulers not to rush into a state, which would be followed by their destruction; and federal papers throughout the Union protested against war, not only as unjust but impolitick, owing to the defenceless situation of the seaboard. Whence arose these apprehensions from our defenceless state, if it were not certain that Great-Britain, though then deeply engaged on the continent, could easily send a force to our shores, greater than we could possibly present, at every point, and therefore that every seaport might fall, in succession. If Warren was less violent than Cochran, it was not owing to want of resources in the government which employed him, but because Great-Britain still sought peace, and because she had not yet realized Mr. Madison's lawless system of warfare. He brought the olive branch, as well as the sword. But Mr. Madison would not treat; he would not suspend hostilities; he would attend to nothing but the invasion and conquest of Canada. It was this course of inflexible hostility, this provoking rejection of the last offers of peace, together with the depredations committed by our armies, that drove Great-Britain to exasperation, and brought terror and devastation to our eastern borders-Not the mercy of God to bleeding Europe; but the guilty perverseness of Amer

BOSTON, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 8, 1814.

ica's disgrace and scourge-the author of this message.

NO. XLI.

ded visit to Baltimore. They did not take it ; but the approach of less than five thousand "In the events of the present campaign, the men, in broad day, to within two miles of that enemy with all his means, and wanton use of city, where there were certainly not less than them, has little cause of exultation, unless he ten thousand men in arms, was an exploit, can feel it in the success of his recent enter- which, though it may afford the British no prizes against this metropolis and the neigh-ground of exultation, is, at this distance, inbouring town of Alexandria; from both of comprehensible. which his retreats were as precipitate, as his attempts were bold and fortunate."

Perhaps Mr. Madison is of opinion, that scenes of carnage, havock, and conflagration alone afford cause for an enemy to exult. Were this savage doctrine correct, the British indeed cannot boast of having vigorously employed their augmented means; the whole coast of Virginia and Maryland might have been laid in ashes. But, unfortunately for this country, unless the discipline of Providence may be considered eventually salutary, the consequences of the expedition into the Chesapeake have already been severely felt through every Atlantick state. What higher satisfac tion, what greater advantage can the enemy wish than this-by the display of about eight thousand men in Maryland and Maine, they have obliged every state, or, speaking morc correctly, every state has thought itself obliged, to raise a considerable and very expensive army. Eight thousand British soldiers make it necessary to us, to keep about fifty thousand Americans under arms. This they do, and this they can do, as long as they please, without risking the life of a single man, at a trifling expense,-while our expense is enormous, and, from the description of men who constitute our defensive force, ruinous, inevitably RUINOUs to the whole country, if this state of things continue long. Were the five thousand in the Chesapeake to land, fight a pitched battle, and defeat twice their number, however brilliant such success might appear, the impression on the country would be nothing, compared to the effect of this universal state of preparation, this standing army of yeomanry, called to the seacoast, to spend months in camp, while their farms, the only remaining support of them and the commonwealth, lie neglected!!

Nothing can equal the effrontery of the President in even mentioning the retreat of the British from Washington, but his criminality in not preventing its capture. Why should they have staid there longer? They did all they wished to do, unmolested. The whole Executive of the United States had fled-no army had presented itself for combat; unless they chose to amuse themselves, playing Congress, there was no employment for them there, and they very quietly marched down to the Patuxent and re-embarked. Let the Alexandrians say whether the enemy retreated precipitately from their city. They took an undisturbed inventory of their flour and tobacco, selected a portion for their use-arranged the police of the city, so as to prevent the depredations of a "certain population"-embarked their property-waited some time for a fair wind, and then descended the Potomack, regardless of the forts that had been erected on its banks.

The enemy gave timely notice of an inten

The triumph of the gallant McDonough has ranked him and his worthy tars among the bravest of heroes, and saved the north of NewYork from invasion. But from Maine to Georgia, on one thousand miles of seacoast, we have no fleet to secure us. We must stand with our muskets in our hands, until we starve at our posts, if this glorious war continue.

No man, not as stupidly blind as the President affects to be, can contemplate "the events of the present campaign," without dismay. The policy of the English is evidently to spread alarm through the Atlantick states-the exertions we every where display prove their policy effectual. It thus becomes a war of finance, the prospect of which is appalling! We have no commerce---farmers abandon their fields---and yet will soon be called upon by government for UNCOUNTED MILLIONS! We do not address ourselves to fools, who may think" the command of the lakes" a consolation for the ruin which stares us in the face; but we appeal to men of common sense, who feel for their country, and see its rapid progress to destruction, whether the President, in direct violation of his oath of duty, does not labour to conceal from the publick the real state of the nation, and delude us with hopes, at once immoral, false, and fatal, that his wretched cause may yet be successful?

We began these remarks, not so much for the sake of considering the President's Mes-sage, as for the purpose of calling the attention of the publick to the course and tendency of the war. The administration papers, long before the contest began, pretended to believe that Great-Britain wished to re-colonize the United States. This slang has never ceased,. and, to shallow observers, the occupation of a part of the district of Maine, by Sir John Sherbrooke, bas given a degree of plausibility to the suggestion. Then we are referred to the early history of our country, which, in its infant state, compelled Great-Britain to relinquish the idea of conquest, though thirty thousand men asserted her claims, in the very heart of the Union. This is at once creating and obviating a danger, which does not exist, either wilfully or ignorantly to conceal the evils to which we positively are exposed, and which, if war continues, we must encounter.

If the British either designed the conquest of the United States, or would adopt such a plan of warfare, as would be necessary, if such were their purpose, we should have nothing to fear our prospects would be infinitely preferable to what they are at present. They would then concentrate their forces-seek a conflict with our utmost strength, and attempt to occupy, permanently, the strong posts of the country. We might then concentrate our armies to meet the enemy, and our whole territory, except the grand scene of battle, would be freed from alarm. But we see nothing of

such intentions—the small force which has arrived on our coasts and the evident system of their operations, shew us that they intend no more than they announce-a visit to punish unprovoked aggression, and to harass our government into the necessity of peace. They will not make a stand on shore with their whole army-they will not attempt to march into the country-they hover on our coast; utter general threats; perform enough to shew their power, and thus keep us in universal terrour, and preparation, while their expense is trifling, and their risk, positively nothing. We may swagger about the thousands we could conquer-without swaggering, we could conquer a larger army, than was commanded by Burgoyne or Cornwallis; but they will give us no such opportunity. They will only defend Canada; and five thousand men, appearing to day in one bay, to-morrow in another, will require the vigilance of fifty thousand men, to secure even our principal towns!! We may thus expend our millions a month, without a chance to destroy a dozen of the enemy; we may look forward, but in vain, to a crisis, which shall decide our fate-to such a war, we can see no crisis, but UNIVERSAL BANKRUPTCY.

Let us then spurn the idle rant about the conquest of the states, and reducing us to colonies. Let us understand and consider our real danger. If we can live without commerce and agriculture, and coin money from the pavement in the streets, we can sustain a year of such war as this. If not, in spite of Mr. Madison's list of splendid successes, we are hurrying to ruin, and shall soon secure to our children, a legacy of poverty and fruitless

toil.

QUESTION OF EXPEDIENCE.

ALL good and well informed men in the United States agree in this, that a change in the political administration of our government is absolutely necessary, and that the publick tranquillity and happiness will never be restor

ed until it is effected. Some are desirous that Mr. Madison and the heads of department should resign; others are of opinion, that, since it is admitted by all parties that the war has been conducted in a manner in many respects unwarranted, and, in every respect, inefficient; attended with a monstrous expense, and exposing the country to extraordinary sufferings, that, in order to effect a change of rulers, by the suffrage of the great mass of the people, we should suspend all animadversion on the principles of the war, and assail the administration, where they will not have a single advocate-on the score of their bad

management.

As to the resignation of Mr. Madison, we have repeatedly expressed our sincere hope that it would not take place. The utmost power that the constitution of our country gives the political body, over such an egregious culprit is but a frivolous punishment. To depose and disqualify a President, unless convicted of treason, is, we believe, the utmost that can be done. But though this could not redress the wrongs we have suffered, it is of great consequence to the character of our age, it would be a salutary example, for the future, that, slight as this punishment is, it should be regularly inflicted. The two houses of Congress constitute the competent tribunal, and accusers in such cases. If there is virtue enough in these bodies to discharge their duties, Mr. Madison will soon quit the chair, in a manner more honourable to the nation, and affording better security to the people, than

but obliged to endure the hardships of camp duty, they will find that these evils have not been brought upon them, by the attention of government to either merchant or seamen. They will find that this war, which, by the most impudent hypocrisy, is pretended to be for Free Trade and Sailors' Rights," was waged in spite of the most solemn entreaties and remonstrances of merchants-that it has ruined their business, destroyed all trade, and driven our seamen entirely from the ocean.

could result from his resignation. If both
houses of Congress remain so corrupt, that
the head of the Executive escapes legal inqui-
sition, then it is of no consequence who is
President, or who constitute his cabinet. Let
them all run their race together, until the vi-
als of heaven's just wrath are exhausted.
Neither can we think it a great or very de-
sirable object, to change the whole adminis-
tration, on the ground of the bad management
of the war. In the name of common sense,
what are we to profit by it, if the future Pres-
The sufferings of our agricultural brethren
ident is elected by war feelings? Could the have been brought upon them, by Mr. Madison,
military talents of a Julius Cæsar make this himself living in the interior of Virginia, aided
war a just one, or compel Great-Britain to by the votes of his partizans from states not
yield those rights against which this war is commercial; by the politicians of Ohio, Ken-
aimed? Never, while England is an unsub-tucky, and Tennesee; men who insultingly
dued empire, will she strike to such demands. pretend to take our concerns under their pro-
No person in the Union is more desirous than tecting care, but whose whole train of measures
ourselves to see the chair of supreme magis- have but hurried us on to destruction.
trate occupied by an enlightened, virtuous pat-
riot; but we can never wish to see such a man
placed there, shackled by the prejudices and
vices of a predominant democracy. If the
majority of the American people cannot be
regenerated, so as to relish true doctrines and
support correct measures, the sainted spirit of
Washington could not save us. Turn out
these men for their incapacity to manage their
bad cause; supersede them by those who
possess the first talents; if they too are to be
democrats in principle, or compelled to act as
such, we may have a longer struggle than Mr.
Madison can sustain, but not a more success- BOSTON, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 8,1814.
ful one.

No-there cannot be a better time, than the
present, to fix the destinies of our country;
let the process of purgation be radical, what-
ever it cost. If good men are raised to pow-
er by false expectations or unjustifiable hopes,
they can do the republick no permanent ser-
vice. They must become the instruments of
ignorance and vices, which they conscientious-
ly detest, or sacrifice themselves by a fruitless
adherence to their personal integrity.

Political manœuvring will not reform a cor-
rupt people, but suffering will teach them
wisdom. We shall hail a change of adminis-
tration, with the delight of enthusiasm, when
it results from the ascendency of correct
views in the popular mind. Let us then still
meet our present rulers and their advocates,
fairly and frankly on the merits of their prin-
ciples, before the tribunal of the people. Let
us rely on increasing suffering, on approaching
poverty and ruin, not as arguments to prove
that any particular doctrine is wrong, for this
would not follow; but as circumstances which
will dispose the perverse to candid inquiry
to reflection-to act agreeably to their con-
victions. Let us hold fast to the truth, and
the truth shall make us free.

" POLITICKS FOR FARMERS." THOSE who had opportunity, a few years ago, to read democratick papers, will remember that they contained a long series of essays, under the above title, the object of which was to convince the yeomanry that the interests of agriculture and navigation were not only distinct, but in collision; and that farmers ought to consider merchants and mariners as their natural enemies.

As farmers are now not only compelled to pay enormous taxes, but to quit their fields and turn soldiers, in consequence of a war, the standing motto of which is," Free Trade and Sailors' Rights," the old democratick doctrine would seem to be sanctioned by experience.

But while farms are going to ruin, and farmers are not only exposed to heavy burdens,

The yeomanry and merchants were ever united by interests, which could not be separ.ted; they are now the victims of a common calamity. Let them cordially unite to save themselves and their country from utter ruin-let them teach those rulers who now literally demand of us the sacrifice, of "life, fortune, and sacred honour," that the price is too great for the privilege of being slaves to domestick tyranny.

GENERAL REGISTER.

FOREIGN. On the 30th of July, Lord Gambier, Henry Gouldbourn and William Adams, Esqrs. were gazetted, as Commissioners for conducting a treaty of Peace, with the United States, and have since sailed. The Chent, previous to the 29th. Lord Hill was American commissioners had all arrived at in England, Aug. 6th; whether destined to

America or not, uncertain,

Some local disquiets existed in France, but the tranquillity of the nation remained undisturbed.

In Spain, oppression, discontent, and alarm appear to increase. Ferdinand by a decree, dated the 23d of July, restored the Inquisition!

arrests, imprisonment, and capital punishment were frequent; and many characters of distinction were flying the country. the 30th of July.

The British parliament was prorogued on

DOMESTICK. The United States' 74— Washington, was launched at Portsmouth, last Saturday.

The corvette John Adams has arrived at New York, in 36 days from Ostend. Mr. Dallas, secretary to Mr. Bayard has gone on to Washington.

Sir John Prevost has gone, with his army, into Upper Canada. On the 21st ult. the Bitish retreated from their encampments near Fort Erie, and are said to be fortifying at Chippewa and Queenstown mountain. General Ripley is recovering. General Izard and his army were at Batavia, about a week since, their destination said to be Buffalo.

A tumour prevailed at Washington, last Saturday that a considerable British force were again ascending the Potomack.

Governour Tompkins estimates the state troops at the city of New York at 17.650!!

The patriotick farmers in the neighbouring towns, and even many from a considerable distance, are coming in by hundreds, to work on our fortifications.

Ninety-four students have entered the present Freshmen class, at Harvard University.

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CONGRESS. But little has yet been done. A resolution has passed That the committee 6 military affairs be instructed to inquire inthe expediency of giving each deserter the British army, during the present war from ndred acres of land, such deserters actuone hu ling on the same." ally sett

to

W. Campbell has resigned as Secretary G. the Treasury. Mr. Munroe is appointed Secretary at War. The departments of State and Treasury, are both vacant.

Our state

STATE LEGISLATURE. government assembled last Wednesday. His Excellency made his communication the same

day.

self of the means now at my disposal of
prosecuting the war with unreserved vigour."

LITERARY AND MISCELLANEOUS.

FOR THE BOSTON SPECTATOR.

THE WRITER, No. XXII. I CONSIDER it the duty of every man who lives in society, to contribute, in some way or other, to the well being of that community of which he makes a part. There is always something to be done in the great field of human life, and the labourers should be variously, as well as constantly, employed about it. If you are not sowing the seeds of inOn Thursday, Mr. Otis proposed Resolu-struction, you may be rooting out the weeds tions to the Senate, approving the defensive of error and prejudice, which spring round measures adopted by the Governour, and ex- the tender plant and would check its growth pressing the high praise due to the officers or corrupt its fruit. At one time the vine and soldiers of the militia, for their alacrity in must be fostered and supported by the hand of repairing to the capital and their excellent dis- culture; and at another, its luxuriance must be repressed, by pruning away the too forward and wanton branches. It requires also to be guarded, both against destructive animals and birds of prey which assail it from without, and from reptiles and mischievous insects within, bandman and destroy his best hopes.

cipline.

The following Extract from Governour Strong's Message describes the present unhappy situation of this state:

The situation of this State is peculiarly dangerous and perplexing. We have been led by the terms of the Constitution to rely on the Government of the Union to provide for that our defence. We have resigned to Government the revenues of the State, with the expectation that this object would not be neglected. But the Government has declared war against the most powerful maritime nation, whose fleets can approach every section of our are disappointed extended sea-coast, and we in our expectations of national defence. But though we may be convinced that the war in its commencement was unnecessary and unjust, and has been prosecuted without any useful or practicable object against the inhabitants of

Canada, while our sea-coast has been left almost war thus com defenceless; and though in a F menced we may have declined to afford our voluntary aid to offensive operations, yet I presume there will be no doubt of our right to defend our dwellings and possessions against any hostile attack by which their destruction is menaced. Let us then, relying on the support and direction of Providence, unite in such measures for our safety, as the times demand, and the principles of justice and the law of self-preservation will justify. To your wisdom and patriotism the interests of the State valuable those are confided, and the more interests are, the more solicitous you will be to guard and preserve them."

Notwithstanding all that has been said, we find no evidence that the British government will rise upon their former principles, in settling a treaty with this country. On the proroguing of Parliament, the Speaker of the

House of Commons addressed the Prince Regent, and with respect to America remarked: "We have still one contest to maintain by war --a war which we can never consent to termi

nate, but by the establishment of our claims, according to the maxims of publick law, and the maritime rights of this empire.".

The Prince, in his answer, repeats almost the very words he used on a former occasion : "I regret the continuance of the war with the U. States, notwithstanding the unprovoked. aggression of the government of that country and the circumstances under which it took place. I am sincerely desirous of the restoration of peace between the two countries upon conditions honourable to both; but until this object can be obtained, I am persuaded you will perceive the necessity of my availing my

which often frustrate the labours of the hus

In times of general danger, there are always
some men to whom we immediately look for
safety and defence; some whose bold and
adventurous spirits seem to point them out as
the natural guardians of society, and in whom
the more weak and timid find a most cheering
pledge of protection and security.
pledge of protection and security.

Whilst the alarms of war are now loud in our
ears, it is a source of great consolation to us,
who have only what Falstaff humorously calls
the "better part of valour" in our composition,
to see so many formidable weapons daily
glittering in our eyes and ready to be wielded
in our defence. But as every man, however
grateful he may feel for the services of others,
looks with some degree of complacency
spons that my labours should not be overlooked
or forgotten amidst the din of arms, and that,
because nature has not given me strength or
industry to dig, nor a disposition to fight, I
should be thought wholly useless in these dis-
astrous times, or to have stood idle and con-
tributed nothing to the benefit of my country.
I desire my fellow-citizens to consider that we
have other enemies to encounter, besides those
who are repelled by downright steel and gun-
powder, and that the moral writer who enters
the lists against the vices of the times ought
not to be thought unuseful in the ranks of life,
or as drawing forth his little feathery weapon
and shedding his ink in a bad cause.
declares war against vice and folly, has certainly
as many enemies and as powerful ones, as a
prudent, or even a brave man ought to contend
with, and it may be some triumph to check
their advances,although he does not drive them
from the field.

his own exertions, I am extremely de

He who

Such are the foes which I profess to encounter; and notwithstanding I may be accused of practising "barbarous warfare," I am determined to give these my enemies no quarter. I think it the more necessary to make this declaration, as I have lately received intelligence from some of my auxiliaries and allies, that the enemy is increasing his strength, and manifests a disposition to shew himself more openly and in a way of defiance. I have had complaints against several vicious practices, and am urged, in imitation of the journal of a Drunkard, to publish a like narrative of a gamester, a liar, and a debauchee, and have had sent me a most frightful list of oaths, taken down in short hand as they were uttered by a profane sweater.

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163

With respect to the three first of these offend-
ers, I shall only inform my friends, that I am
not unmindful of their complaints and their
wishes; and that I shall very soon hold up
the guilty ones to publick detestation, unless
there is a speedy and serious reform in their
vicious habits. But I am so shocked with the
atrocious and inexcusable guilt of this swear-
er, that I think I ought not to let him pass
another moment without reprobation. So
vulgar, so low, so unmannerly, and detestable
a vice, one would expect to find only amongst
the lowest and rudest class of men, and that
not even a rendezvous in Fish-street, or a
brothel on the hill, could have produced a
vocabulary of such profane and shocking oaths,
calls himself a gentleman. It is true, that no
of the extent of the iniquity of which he is
guilty; but of all men the profane swearer
would be the most astonished to know how
often he offends. Were this list of oaths to
be presented to the person who uttered them,
he would at first, with disdain perhaps, deny
the charge; but if he could be convinced of
the truth of it, I am persuaded he would shud-
der at his own folly and impiety. Were Ì
even disposed to publish this awful testimony
of the depravity of one of my fellow beings,
the space it would require would be more
than it would be proper for me to occupy in
this paper; but I have a better reason for
withholding it from the publick eye, which is,
to save my readers from a sensation of horror
that it must produce in the bosom of every
christian. I would however recommend the
plan, which has in this instance been adopted,
of noting down every oath that hurries from
the lips of one of these swearers, and of hold-
ing up the disgusting picture to his own con-
templation, as the best method that could be
used for his reforination, and turning him
from this great wickedness and folly.

as I have seen from the mouth of one who
one, who is addicted to crimes, has a full sense

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EVIL CONSEQUENCES OF REFINEMENT. We have not selected the following extract from a desire to check the cultivation of whatever is elegant and ornamental, in society, nor to encourage the indulgence of gross propensities; but to show that refinement, like every other good quality, carried to excess, or improperly regulated, does not conduce to the perfection of the mind, nor to the increase of happiness.

"Refinement and delicacy of taste is an acquisition very dangerous and deceitful.-It flatters our pride by giving us a conscious superiority over the rest of mankind, and by specious promises of enjoyment unknown to vulgar minds, often cheats us out of those pleasures, which belong equally to the whole species, and which nature intended every one should enjoy. People possessed of extreme delicacy are haunted as it were with an evil genius, by certain ideas of the coarse, the low, the vulgar, the irregular, which strike them in all the natural pleasures of life, and render them incapable of enjoying them.

There is scarcely an external or internal sense but may be brought, by constant induldegree of gence and attention, to such acuteness, as to be disgusted at every object that is presented to it. This extreme sensibility and refinement, though usually at first the effect of vanity and affectation, yet, by a

constant attention to all the little circumstances that feed them, soon become real and

genuine. But nature has set hounds to all our pleasures. We may enjoy them safelywithin these bounds, but if we refine too much

upon them, the certain consequence is disap- | plain the latter by the analogy of the former, | Advancing, new beauties enraptured his sight, pointment and chagrin." and even to refer them to the same general laws."

MEMORY.

PHILOSOPHERS have ever found the analysis of the human mind an inexhaustible subject of speculation, but none of its faculties has puzzled their researches more than Memory. Nicholas Malebranche, an illustrious sage of France, of the last century, whom Locke considered an "acute and ingenious" writer, seemed to flatter himself that he had removed every difficulty, or rather would make us believe, there was no difficulty in understanding so plain a subject. The following is his Theory of Memory:

"It being granted, that all our different perceptions are owing to the changes happening in the fibres of the principal part of the brain, wherein the soul more immediately resides, the nature of the memory is obvious: for as the leaves of a tree, that have been folded for some time in a certain manner, preserve a facility of disposition to be folded again in the same manner; so the fibres of the brain, háving once received certain impressions by the courses of the animal spirits, and by the action of objects, preserve, for some time, a facility to receive the same disposition. Now it is in this facility that memory consists; for we think the same things, when the brain receives the same impression.

"Farther, as the animal spirits act sometimes more briskly, and sometimes more languidly, on the substance of the brain; and as sensible objects make much deeper, and more lasting impressions, than the imagination alone; it is easy, on this scheme, to conceive why we do not remember all things alike; why a thing, for instance, seen twice is represented more vividly to the mind than another seen but once : and why things, that have been seen, are usually remembered more distinctly, than those that have been only imagined, &.

"Old men are defective in memory, and cannot learn any thing without much difficulty, because they want animal spirits to make new traces, and because the fibres of the brain are become too hard to receive, or too moist to rotain such impressions. For the same reason, those, who learn with the greatest ease, forget the soonest; in regard when the fibres are soft and flexible, objects make a slight impression, which the continual course of animal 'spirits easily wears off. On the contrary, the fibres of those who learn slowly, being less flexible and less subject to be shaken, the traces are more deeply engraven, and last the longer. From all which observations it follows, that the memory is absolutely dependent on the body; being impaired or strengthened, according to the changes that befal the body; a fall, the transports of a fever, &c. being frequently found to erase or blot out all the traces, to bear away all the ideas, and to cause an universal forgetfulness."

I shall not attempt to enter the field of controversy with so distinguished a combatant, as the learned father; but I must confess it appears no less clear to me, than the theory of memory did to him, that there is a radical errour in his mode of reasoning; and that this errour has been well described by Professor Dugald Stewart, in the introduction to his Philosophy of the Human Mind.'"From our earliest years," says he, "our attention is engrossed with the qualities and laws of MATTER, an acquaintance with thich is absolutely necessary for the preservation of our animal existence. Hence it is that these phenomena. occupy our thoughts more than those of mind; that we are perpetually tempted to ex

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POETRY.

FOR THE BOSTON SPECTATOR.

THE FAREWELL. FAREWELL!-but whenever you welcome the hour That awakens the night-song of mirth in your bower,

He call'd her his treasure-his joy-his delight!
But flies are inconstant, as well as mankind,
And boast, like their betters, a versatile mind;
So the insect discover'd that sweets will soon cl
And turn'd with disgust from the fugitive joy.
But, ere he departed, (for, as we have said,
Though false-bearted, the knave was extremely we..
bred,)

oy,

He mourn'd that stern business precluded his stay,
And call'd him, reluctant, from Rosa away;
Thea lengthen'd his face, like a sorrowing swain,
And promis'd ere evening to call there again;
Sighed deep, as he spread his gay pinions for flight,
And laughed in his sleeve, as he vanish'd from sight.
To bid her good morning, and hope she'd slept well;
Then call'd on a tulip, a dashing young belle,
But the smiles, which oft greeted his coming, were
fled,

Then think of the friend, who once welcomed it too,
And forgot his own griefs to be happy with you.
His griefs may return-not a hope may remain
Of the few that have brightened his pathway of pain-
But he ne'er will forget the short vision that threw
Its enchantment around him, while ling'ring with you!
And still on that evening, when pleasure fills up
To the highest top-sparkle each heart and each cup,
Where'er my path lies, be it gloomy or bright,
My soul, happy friends! shall be with you that night;" Prithee, wing at respectable distance your flight."
Shall join in your revels, your sports, and your wiles,
And return to me, beaming all o'er with your smiles!-
Too blest, if it tells me that, 'mid the gay cheer,
Some kind voice had murmured, "I wish he were here!"

This salute was return'd with a toss of the head,
And a" Harkee, fine sir! with the plumage so bright,

Amazed at this coldness unwonted, our fly

Vow'd (with hand upon heart) he should certainly die,
But remembering a saying, with which he had met,
"That a lover forsaken a new love may get,"
To some other occasion referr'd his despair,
And flew gaily to seek a more complaisant fair.
And the bright flush of hope soon gave place to dismay,
But short was his glee, as the showers of May,
For, dark on each brow, lower'd the frown of disdain,
And frigid replies check'd his amorous strain.

Let fate do her worst, there are relicks of joy,
Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy,
And which come, in the night-time of sorrow and care,
To bring back the features that joy us'd to wear.
Long, long be my heart with such memories fill'd!
Like the vase in which roses have once been distill'd-At last on a dock-leaf he lighted forlorn,
You may break, you may ruin the vase, if you will;
But the scent of the roses will hang round it still!

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His devotions, one morning, a butterfly paid
Where

L'ESPION.

opening rosebud her beauties displayed
The fly as accomplish'd, the flow'ret was young,
And Fittery lent all her charms to his tongue.
He vow her atractions had turn'd his poor brain,
And sought in her smiles a relief for his pain ;
When she smil'd, he acknowledged the rapturous
Then ask'd in soft accents one heavenly kiss ;
She blush'd her consent--he grew bold with suce 282,
And dar'd with rude fect her corolla to press,

While the tulip thus vented to Rosa her scorn.

"O shame to thy sex! must thou open thine arms, “And suffer such striplings to rifle thy charms, "Thou should'st, foolish flower! ta'en example by me, "And learn'd to coquet with the manlier bee, "To hold in your chains the genteel dragon-fly,

Or gain from the elegant hum-bird a sigh; "But now all thy beauties unnoticed may bloom, "And too late thou shalt mourn for thy merited doom." She ceas'd, and expanded her petals with pride, While crocus and daffodils join'd to deride,

And, close 'round her eim, the dark nightshade did cling,

And pronounc'd pretty Rosa an odious thing. Just then came our butterfly, meaning to stay, And pass a few moments with Rose, in his way. From her no reproaches could he seriously fear, But new disappointment awaited him here. "Go, vile one," she cried, in a passionate strain, "He that boasts of my favours, ne'er tastes them again.” Then loudly the fly 'gan to curse his hard fate, That had shown him the cause of the mischief too late; For reclin'd on the dock, he had taken a view Of his visage demure, on a bright drop of dew, And saw, just above his proboscis display'd, A speck of farina had Rosa betray'd. My fable, though simple, dear Juliette, regard, And the olive extend to a suppliant bard; Believe not my tongue did our raptures unfold, The tale is as false, as the miscreant that told. My lips though unconscious, sweet maiden, disclos'd What else had forever in silence repos'd

or the traitors all borrow'd their fresh tint from you, And Envy remember'd the roseate hue.

ORLANDO.

PRINTED AND PUBLISHED FOR
JOHN PARK,

By MUNROE & FRANCIS,

NO. 4 CORNHILL. Price three dollars. per annum, half in advance.

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