The fervid follies and the faults of such
As wrongly feel, because they feel too much;
Then might experience make the fever less,
Nay, graft a virtue on each warm excess.
But no; 'tis heartless, speculative ill,
All youth's transgression with all age's chill;
The apathy of wrong, the bosom's ice,
A slow and cold stagnation into vice.

Long has the love of gold, that meanest rage, And latest folly of man's sinking age, Which, rarely venturing in the van of life, While nobler passions wage their heated strife, Comes skulking last, with selfishness and fear, And dies, collecting lumber in the rear,Long has it palsied every grasping hand And greedy spirit through this bartering land; Turn'd life to traffic, set the demon gold So loose abroad that virtue's self is sold, And conscience, truth, and honesty are made To rise and fall, like other wares of trade.1

Already in this free, this virtuous state,
Which, Frenchmen tell us, was ordain'd by fate
To show the world, what high perfection springs
From rabble senators, and merchant kings,-
Even here already patriots learn to steal
Their private perquisites from public weal,
And, guardians of the country's sacred fire,
Like Afric's priests, let out the flame for hire.
Those vaunted demagogues, who nobly rose
From England's debtors to be England's foes,"
Who could their monarch in their purse forget,
And break allegiance, but to cancel debt,
Have proved, at length, the mineral's tempting
hue,

Which makes a patriot, can unmake him too.
Oh! Freedom, Freedom, how I hate thy cant!
Not Eastern bombast, not the savage rant
Of purpled madmen, were they number'd all
From Roman Nero down to Russian Paul,

1 "Nous voyons que, dans les pays où l'on n'est affecté que de l'esprit de commerce, on trafique de toutes les actions humaines et de toutes les vertus morales."-Montesquieu, de l'Esprit des Lois, liv. xx. chap. 2.

* I trust I shall not be suspected of a wish to justify those arbitrary steps of the English government which the colonies found it so necessary to resist; my only object here is to expose the selfish motive of some of the leading American demagogues.

$ The most persevering enemy to the interests of this country, amongst the politicians of the western world, has been a Virginian merchant, who, finding it easier to settle his conscience than his debts, was one of the first to raise the standard against Great Britain, and has ever since endeavored to revenge upon the whole country the obligations which he lies under to a few of its merchants.

4 See Porcupine's account of the Pennsylvania Insurrec

Could grate upon my ear so mean, so base,
As the rank jargon of that factious race,
Who, poor of heart and prodigal of words,
Form'd to be slaves, yet struggling to be lords,
Strut forth, as patriots, from their negro-marts,
And shout for rights, with rapine in their hearts.

Who can, with patience, for a moment see The medley mass of pride and misery, Of whips and charters, manacles and rights, Of slaving blacks and democratic whites, And all the piebald polity that reigns In free confusion o'er Columbia's plains? To think that man, thou just and gentle God! Should stand before thee with a tyrant's rod O'er creatures like himself, with souls from thee, Yet dare to boast of perfect liberty; Away, away-I'd rather hold my neck By doubtful tenure from a sultan's beck, In climes where liberty has scarce been named, Nor any right, but that of ruling, claim'd, Than thus to live, where bastard Freedom waves Her fustian flag in mockery over slaves; Where-motley laws admitting no degree Betwixt the vilely slaved and madly freeAlike the bondage and the license suit, The brute made ruler and the man made brute.

But, while I thus, my friend, in flowerless song,
So feebly paint, what yet I feel so strong,
The ills, the vices of the land, where first
Those rebel fiends, that rack the world, were nursed,
Where treason's arm by royalty was nerved,
And Frenchmen learn'd to crush the throne they
served-

Thou, calmly lull'd in dreams of classic thought,
By bards illumined and by sages taught,
Pant'st to be all, upon this mortal scene,
That bard hath fancied or that sage hath been.
Why should I wake thee? why severely chase
The lovely forms of virtue and of grace,

tion in 1794. In short, see Porcupine's works throughout, for ample corroboration of every sentiment which I have ventured to express. In saying this, I refer less to the comments of that writer than to the occurrences which he has related and the documents which he was preserved. Opinion may be suspected of bias, but facts speak for themselves.

5 In Virginia the effects of this system begin to be felt rather seriously. While the master raves of liberty, the slave cannot but catch the contagion, and accordingly there seldom elapses a month without some alarm of insurrection amongst the negroes. The accession of Louisiana, it is feared, will increase this embarrassment; as the numerous emigrations, which are expected to take place, from the southern states to this newly-acquired territory, will considerably diminish the white population, and thus strengthen the proportion of negroes, to a degree which must ultimately be ruinous.

That dwell before thee, like the pictures spread By Spartan matrons round the genial bed, Moulding thy fancy, and with gradual art Bright'ning the young conceptions of thy heart.

Forgive me, Forbes and should the song destroy One generous hope, one throb of social joy,

One high pulsation of the zeal for man,

In fancy now, beneath the twilight gloom, Come, let me lead thee o'er this "second Rome!""" Where tribunes rule, where dusky Davi bow, And what was Goose-Creek once is Tiber now:This embryo capital, where Fancy sees Squares in morasses, obelisks in trees; Which second-sighted seers, ev'n now, adorn With shrines unbuilt and heroes yet unborn,

1 The "black Aspasia" of the present ********* of the United States, inter Avernales haud ignotissima nymphas has given rise to much pleasantry among the anti-democrat wits in America.

2 "On the original location of the ground now allotted for the seat of the Federal City, (says Mr. Weld.) the identical spot on which the capitol now stands was called Rome. This anecdote is related by many as a certain prognostic of the future magnificence of this city, which is to be, as it were, a second Rome."-Weld's Travels, letter iv.

3 A little stream runs through the city, which, with in tolerable affectation, they have styled the Tiber. It was originally called Goose-Creek.

"To be under the necessity of going through a deep wood for one or two miles, perhaps, in order to see a next-door neighbor, and in the same city, is a curious and, I believe, a novel circumstance." - Weld, letter iv.

The Federal City (if it must be called a city) has not been much increased since Mr. Weld visited it. Most of the public buildings, which were then in some degree of forward ness, have been since utterly suspended. The hotel is already a ruin; a great part of its roof has fallen in, and the rooms are left to be occupied gratuitously by the miserable Scotch and Irish emigrants. The President's house, a very noble structure, is by no means suited to the philosophical

Where streets should run and sages ought to be.

And look, how calmly in yon radiant wave, The dying sun prepares his golden gravé. Oh mighty river! oh ye banks of shade! Ye matchless scenes, in nature's morning made, While still, in all th' exuberance of prime, She pour'd her wonders, lavishly sublime, Nor yet had learn'd to stoop, with humbler care, From grand to soft, from wonderful to fair ;Say, were your towering hills, your boundless floods, Your rich savannas and majestic woods, Where bards should meditate and heroes rove, And woman charm, and man deserve her love,Oh say, was world so bright, but born to grace Its own half-organized, half-minded races Of weak barbarians, swarming o'er its breast, Like vermin gender'd on the lion's crest? Were none but brutes to call that soil their home, Where none but demigods should dare to roam? Or worse, thou wondrous world! oh! doubly worse, Did heaven design thy lordly land to nurse The motley dregs of every distant clime, Each blast of anarchy and taint of crime Which Europę shakes from her perturbed sphere, In full malignity to rankle here?

humility of its present possessor, who inhabits but a corner of the mansion himself, and abandons the rest to a state of uncleanly desolation, which those who are not philosophers cannot look at without regret. This grand edifice is encir cled by a very rude paling, through which a common rustic stile introduces the visiters of the first man in America. With respect to all that is within the house, I shall imitate the pradent forbearance of Herodotus, and say, τα δε εν απορῥητω

The private buildings exhibit the same characteristic display of arrogant speculation and premature ruin; and the few ranges of houses which were begun some years ago have remained so long waste and unfinished, that they are now for the most part dilapidated.

The picture which Buffon and De Pauw have drawn of the American Indian, though very humiliating, is, as far as I can judge, much more correct than the flattering representations which Mr. Jefferson has given us. See the Notes on Virginia, where this gentleman endeavors to disprove in general the opinion maintained so strongly by some philosophers, that nature (as Mr. Jefferson expresses it) be-littles her productions in the western world. M. de Pauw attributes the imperfection of animal life in America to the ravages of a very recent deluge, from whose effects upon its soil and atmosphere it has not yet sufficiently recovered. Recherches sur les Américains, part i. tom. i. p. 102.

And they told him, with flattery welcome and dear, That they found in his heart something better than fame.

Nor did woman-oh woman! whose form and whose soul

Are the spell and the light of each path we pursue;

Whether sunn'd in the tropics or chill'd at the pole,

If woman be there, there is happiness too :

Nor did she her enamoring magic deny,-
That magic his heart had relinquish'd so long,
Like eyes he had loved was her eloquent eye,
Like them did it soften and weep at his song.

Oh, bless'd be the tear, and in memory oft

May its sparkle be shed o'er the wanderer's dream; Thrice bless'd be that eye, and may passion as soft, As free from a pang, ever mellow its beam!

The stranger is gone-but he will not forget,
When at home he shall talk of the toils he has
known,

To tell, with a sigh, what endearments he met,
As he stray'd by the wave of the Schuylkill alone.

Rushing, alike untired and wild,
Through shades that frown'd and flowers that
smiled,

Flying by every green recess
That woo'd him to its calm caress,
Yet, sometimes turning with the wind,
As if to leave one look behind,-
Oft have I thought, and thinking sigh'd,
How like to thee, thou restless tide,
May be the lot, the life of him
Who roams along thy water's brim;
Through what alternate wastes of wo
And flowers of joy my path may go;
How many a shelter'd, calm retreat
May woo the while my weary feet,
While still pursuing, still unbless'd,
I wander on, nor darerest;
But, urgent as the doom that calls
Thy water to its destined falls,
I feel the world's bewild'ring forco
Hurry my heart's devoted course
From lapse to lapse, till life be done,
And the spent current cease to run

One only prayer I dare to make, As onward thus my course I take :Oh, be my falls as bright as thine! May heaven's relenting rainbow shine Upon the mist that circles me, As soft as now it hangs o'er thee!

Hark! I hear the traveller's song, As he winds the woods along ;Christian, 'tis the song of fear; Wolves are round thee, night is near, And the wild thou dar'st to roamThink, 'twas once the Indian's home!"

Hithor, sprites, who love to harm, Wheresoe'er you work your charm, By the creeks, or by the brakes, Where the pale witch feeds her snakes, And the cayman loves to creep, Torpid, to his wintry sleep: Where the bird of carrion flits, And the shudd'ring murderer sits, Lone beneath a roof of blood; While upon his poison'd food, From the corpse of him he slew Drops the chill and gory dew.

Hither bend ye, turn ye hither, Eyes that blast and wings that wither! Cross the wand'ring Christian's way, Lead him, ere the glimpse of day, Many a mile of madd'ning error, Through the maze of night and terror, Till the morn behold him lying On the damp earth, pale and dying. Mock him, when his eager sight Seeks the cordial cottage-light; Gleam then, like the lightning-bug, Tempt him to the den that's dug For the foul and famish'd brood Of the she-wolf, gaunt for blood; Or, unto the dangerous pass O'er the deep and dark morass, Where the trembling Indian brings Belts of porcelain, pipes, and rings, Tributes, to be hung in air, To the Fiend presiding there!"

Then, when night's long labor past, Wilder'd, faint, he falls at last,

1"The Five Confederated Nations (of Indians) were set tled along the banks of the Susquehannah and the adjacent country, until the year 1779, when General Sullivan, with an army of 4000 men, drove them from their country to Niagara, where, being obliged to live on salted provisions, to which they were unaccustomed, great numbers of them died. Two hundred of them, it is said, were buried in one grave, where they had encamped."--Morse's American Geography.

The alligator, who is supposed to lie in a torpid state all the winter, in the bank of some creek or pond, having previously swallowed a large number of pine-knots, which are his only sustenance during the time.

Sinking where the causeway's edge
Moulders in the slimy seage,
There let every noxicus thing
Trail its filth and fix its sting;
Let the bull-toad taint him over,
Round him let moschetoes hover,
In his ears and eyeballs tingling,
With his blood their poison mingling,
Till, beneath the solar fires,
Rankling all, the wretch expires!

TO

THE HONORABLE W. R. SPENCER FROM BUFFALO, UPON LAKE ERIE.

Nec venit ad duros musa vocata Getas.

OVID. ex Ponto, lib. i. ep. 5

THOU oft hast told me of the happy hours
Enjoy'd by thee in fair Italia's bowers,
Where, ling'ring yet, the ghost of ancient wit
Midst modern monks profanely dares to flit,
And pagan spirits, by the pope unlaid,
Haunt every stream and sing through every shade.
There still the bard who (if his numbers be

His tongue's light echo) must have talk'd like thee,-
The courtly bard, from whom thy mind has caught
Those playful, sunshine holidays of thought,
In which the spirit baskingly reclines,
Bright without effort, resting while it shines,一
There still he roves, and laughing loves to see
How modern priests with ancient rakes agree;
How, 'neath the cowl, the festal garland shines,
And Love still finds a niche in Christian shrines

There still, too, roam those other souls of song, With whom thy spirit hath communed so long, That, quick as light, their rarest gems of thought, By Memory's magic to thy lip are brought.

upon poles at the top of a cabin, and the murderer was obliged to remain several days together, and to receive all that dropped from the carcass, not only on himself but on his food."

4 "We find also collars of porcelain, tobacco, ears of maize, skins, &c., by the side of difficult and dangerous ways, on rocks, or by the side of the falls; and these are so many offerings made to the spirits which preside in these places."See Charlevoix's Letter on the Traditions and the Religion of the Savages of Canada.

Father Hennepin too mentions this ceremony; he also says, "We took notice of one barbarian, who made a kind of sacrifice upon an oak at the Cascade of St. Antony of Padua, upon the river Mississippi. '-See Hennepin's Voyage