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it on his shoulder. In short, bella, horrida bella, war, destructive war, was about to desolate the hitherto peaceful streets of Philadelphia.

“But with all this, the old proverb was not belied ; and the benign in. fluence of this ill wind was sensibly felt by us school-boys. The dreaded event was overbalanced in our minds by the holidays which were the effect of it ; and so far as I can recall my feelings on the occasion, they very much preponderated on the side of hilarity.

“As the defensive army was without eyes, it had of course no better information than such as common bruit could supply ; and hence many untoward consequences ensued. One was the near extinction of a troop of mounted butchers from Germantown, who, scampering down Market street with the best intentions in the world, were announced as the Paxton Boys, and by this mistake, very narrowly escaped a greeting from the rude throats of Captain Loxley's artillery. The word FIRE was already quivering on his lips, but Pallas came in shape of something, and suppressed it. Another emanation from this unmilitary defect of vision was the curious order that every householder in Market street should affix one or more candles at his door before daylight, on the morning of the day on which, from some sufficient reason no doubt, it had been elicited that the enemy would full surely make his attack, and by no other than this identical route, on the citadel. Whether this illumination was merely intended to prevent surprise or ether it was that the commander who enjoined it was determined, like Ajax, that, if perish he must, he would perish in the face of day, I do not know ; but certain it is that such a decree went forth, and was religiously complied with. This I can affirm, from the circumstance of having resided in Market street at the time. The sage precaution, however, proved superfluous, although, with respect merely to the nearness of the redoubted invaders, there was colour for it. It was soon ascertained that they had reached Germantown and a deputation of the least obnoxious citizens, with the olive branch, was sent out to meet them. After a parley of some days, an armis. tice was agreed upon, and peace at length so effectually restored, that the formidable stragglers who had excited so much terror, were permitted, as friends, to enter the city.”

“But it was not alone by hostile alarms that the good people of Philadelphia were annoyed. Their tranquility bad been likewise disturbed by the uncitizenlike conduct of a pair of British officers, who, for want of something better to do, had plunged themselves into an excess of intemperance ; and, in the plenitude of wine and hilarity, paraded the streets at all hours,

A la clarté de cieux dans l'ombre de la nuit,' to the no small terror of the sober and the timid. The firm of this duumvirate was Ogle and Friend, names always coupled together, like those of Castor and Pollux, or of Pylades and Orestes. But the cement which connected them was scarcely so pure as that which had united those heroes of antiquity. It could hardly be called friendship, but was rather a confederacy in debauchery and riot, exemplified in a never ending round of frolic and fun. It was related of Ogle, that, upon hiring a servant, he had stipulated with him that he should never get drunk but when his master was sober. But the fellow sometime after requested his discharge, giving for his reason, that he had in truth no dislike to a social glass himself, but it had so happened, that the terms of the agreen.ent had absolutely cut him off from any chance of ever indulging his propensity.

“ Many are the pranks 1 have heard ascribed, either conjointly or separately, to this par nobile fratrum. That of Ogle's first appearance in Philadelphia has been thus related to me by Mr. Will Richards, the apothecary who, it is well known, was, from his size and manner, as fine a figure for Falstaff as the imagination can conceive. “One afternoon," said he, “an officer in full regimentals, booted and spurred, with a whip in his hand, spattered with mud from top to toe, and reeling under the effects of an overdose of liquor, made his entrance into the coffee-bcuse, in box of

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was sitting, perusing a newspaper. He was probably under the impression, that every man he was to meet would be a Quaker, and that a Quaker was no other than a licensed Simon Pure for his amusement ; for no sooner had he entered, than, throwing his arms about the neck of Mr. Joshua Fisher, with the exclamation of Ah, my dear Broadbrim, give me a kiss,' he began to slaver him most lovingly. As Joshua was a good deal embarrassed by the salutation, and wholly unable to parry the assault or shake of the fond intruder, I interfered in his behalf, and effected a separation, when Ogle, turning to me, cried out, 'Hah! my jolly fellow, give me a smack of your fat chops,' and immediately fell to hugging and kissing me, as he had done Fisher. But, instead of the coyness he had shown, I hugged and kissed in my turp as hard as I was able, until my weight at length brought Ogle to the floor, and myself on top of him. Nevertheless I kept kissing away, until nearly mashed and suffocated, he exclaimed, 'For heaven's sake let me up, let me up, or you will smother me!'. Having sufficiently tormented him, and avenged Joshua Fisher, I permitted him to rise, when he seemed a good deal sobered, and finding that I was neither a Quaker, nor wholly ignorant of the world, he evinced some respect for me, took a seat with me in a box, and entering into conversation, soon discovered that, however he might be disguised by intoxication, he well knew what belonged to the character of a gentleman.”

_“ This,” says Richards, “was the commencement of an acquaintance between us; and Captain Ogle sometimes called to see me, upon which occasions he always behaved with the utmost propriety and deco

" Among the disaffected (royalists) in Philadelphia, Dr. Kearsley was preeminently ardent and rash.. An extremely zealous loyalist, and impetuous in his temper, he had given much umbrage to the Whigs; and, if I am not mistaken, he had been detected in some hostile machinations. Hence he was deemed a proper subject for the fashionable punishment of tarring, feathering, and carting. He was seized at his own door by a party of the militia, and, in the attempt to resist them, received a wound in his hand from a bayonet. Being overpowered, he was placed in a cart provided for the purpose, and, amidst a multitude of boys and idlers, paraded through the streets to the tune of the rogues' march. í happened to be at the coffee-house when the concourse arrived there. They made a halt, while the Doctor, foaming with rage and indignation, without his hat, his wig dishevelled and bloody from his wounded hand, stood up in the cart and called for a bowl of punch. It was quickly handed to him ; when, so vehement was his thirst, that he drained it of its contents before he took it from his lips. What were the feelings of others on this lawless proceeding I know not, but mine, I must confess, revolted at the spectacle. I was shocked at seeing a late respected citizen so cruelly vilified, and was imprudent enough to say, that, had I been a magistrate, I would, at every hazard, have interposed my authority in suppression of the outrage. But this was not the only instance which convinced me that I wanted nerves for a revolution. It must be admitted, however, that the conduct of the populace was marked by a lenity which peculiarly distinguished the cradle of our republicanism. Tar and feathers had been dispensed with, and, excepting the injury he had received in his hand, ne sort of violence was offered by the mob to their victim. But to a man of high spirit, as the Doctor was, the indignity, in its lightest form, was sufficient to madden him: it probably had this effect, since his conduct became so extremely outrageous, that it was thought necessary to confine him from this city he was soon after removed to Carlisle, where he died during the war.

A few days after the carting of Mr. Kearsley, Mr. Isaac Hunt, the attorney,* was treated in the same manner, but he managed the matter much better than his precursor. Instead of braving his conductors like the Doctor,

An uncle, probably, of Leigh Hunt.--Ed. P. F.

Mr. Hunt was a pattern of meekness and humility; and at every halt that was made, he rose and expressed his acknowledgments to the crowd for their forbearance and civility. After a parade of an hour or two, he was set down at his own door, as uninjured in body as in mind. He soon after removed to one of the islands, if I mistake not, to Barbadoes, where, it was understood he took orders,

“Not long after these occurrences, Major Skene, of the British army, ventured to show himself in Philadelphia. Whatever might have been his inducement to the measure, it was deemed expedient by the newly constituted authorities to have him arrested and secured. A guard was accordingly placed over him at his lodgings, at the city tavern. The officer to whose charge he was especially committed, was Mr. Francis Wade, the brewer, an Irishman of distinguished zeal in the cause, and one who was supposed to possess talents peculiarly befitting him for the task of curbing the spirit of an haughty Briton, which Skene undoubtedly was. I well recollect the day that the guard was paraded to escort him out of the city on his way to some other station. An immense crowd of spectators stood before the door of his quarters, and lined the streets through which he was to pass. The weather being warm, the window sashes of his apartment were raised, and Skene, with his bottle of wine upon the table, having just finished his dinner, roared out, in the voice of a Stentor, God save great George our King. Had the spirit of seventy-five in any degree resembled Jacobinism, to which it has unjustly been compared, this bravado would unquestionably bave brought the major to the lamp post, and set bis head upon a pike; but as, fortunately for him, it did not, he was suffered to proceed with his, song, and the auditory seemed more generally amused than offended.”

ART. IX.-Poetry.

At morn, at noon, at eve, and middle night,

He passes forth into the charmed air,

With Talisman to call up spirits rare
From flower, tree, heath, and fountain. To his sight
The husk of natural objects opens quite

To the core, and every secret essence there

Reveals the elements of good and fair,
Making him wise where Learning lacketh light,

The Poets sympathies are not confined

To kindred, country, climate, class or kind,
And yet they glow intense.-Oh! were he wise,
Duly to commune with his destined skies,

Then, as of old, might inspiration shed
A visible glory round his hallow'd head.



On fairest flower the reptile vile,

Still leaves its slime behind ;
So reptile envy would defile

The fairest, purest mind :
VOL. II.-40, 3.


Then what of genius, taste, you own

Above the common cast,
Avoid the breath of wide renown,

As poison's Sirve's blast.
Confine to self those gems of mind

Those pleasures ever new,
Or let their lustre be confin’d,

To light the chosen few.
Nor let thy lamp of virtue shine

On darksome vice too bright,
For those who bend at Mammon's shrine,

Abhor its hated light.
Thus Envy's argus eyes may sleep,

Nor dulness rouse to vent
Those venom'd words, not loud but deep,

That malice can invent.-
Yes, he who'd gain the gen’ral voice,

Pale envy overcome,
Must climb with Folly and with Vice,

And oft seem deaf and dumb.
Affect to close in sleep the eyes,

When Vice expose its mein,
Spread the light wing when Folly flies,

“ Be all things to all men”.
Must ne'er express indignant thought,

Of vice, or e'en its tools;
Who sets this prudent case at nought,

Makes foes of knaves and fools.
A num'rous race, to whom the wise

And virtuous sometimes bend, As the wild Arab deifies

Old Nick, to gain a friend ;Yet though they gain the world by guila,

The chance is more than even; They love the self-approving smile,

Of Conscience and of Heaven.

Come, come-l am willing
To down with my shilling,
The time to be killing

With varnish and paint;
So up the stone staircase
I corkscrew my carcase,
As steep and as dark as

St. Paul's ;-and as faint:

Tall women and towers,
And children with flowers,
Twelve rosy old Hours,

A study of cows ;-
A view on the Humber,
And nags out of number,
With other live lumber,
At Somerset House !

Tol de rol, &c.
One dandy Adonis,
And two noble cronies,
Beside rampant ponies

Reclining in curls;
And tumble-down torrents,
And pictures of Florence,
And portraits by Lawrence

Of lanky old Earls :
That a man! what a log!-
Turn to the catalogue!
How like a water-dog

After a souse!
That sky is too milky,
That dress is too silky,-
How charming is Wilkie
At Somerset House !

Tol de rol, &c.
I've seen the room fuller,
And yet felt it cooler ;-
Lord! there's Mrs. Buller,

All pensive and red !
I wonder such fat ewes
Make paintings and statues,
I'll never to that use


Here, Wealth hath call’d her men,
Hairy Jews, balder men,
Grim gouty aldermen-

Wigs, beards, and brows!
I think 'tis a pity,
The hanging committee
Thus flatter the city,
At Somerset House !

Tol de rol, &c.
The sculpture invites me,
For marble delights me,
Except when it spites me

In desolate busts ;

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