beam inexpreffible delight! our joys are increased by their prefence; our raptures are heightened by their participation. The feelings, which infpired them in the "times which tried men's fouls," are communicated to our bofoms. We catch the divine fpirit which impelled them to bid defiance to the congregated hoft of defpots. We fwear to preferve the bleffings they toiled to gain, which they obtained by the inceffant labors of eight distressful years; to transmit to our posterity, our rights undiminished, our honor untarnished, and our freedom unimpaired.

On the last page of Fate's eventful volume, with the raptured ken of prophecy, I behold Columbia's name recorded; her future honors and happiness infcribed. In the fame important book the approaching end of Tyranny and the triumph of Right and Juftice are written in indelible characters. The struggle will foon be over; the tottering thrones of defpots will quickly fall, and bury their proud incumbents in their maffy ruins!

Then Peace on earth fhall hold her eafy fway,
And man forget his brother man to slay.
To martial arts, fhall milder arts fucceed,
Who bleffes moft, fhall gain the immortal meed.
The eye of pity fhall be pain'd no more,
With Victory's crimson banners ftain'd with gore
Thou glorious era, come! Hail, bleffed time!
When full-orb freedom fhall unclouded shine;
When the chafte Mufes, cherish'd by her rays,
In olive groves shall tune their sweetest lays;
When bounteous Ceres fhall direct her car,
O'er fields now blafted by the fires of war;
And angels view, with joy and wonder join'd,
The golden age return'd to blefs mankind!

DIALOGUE BETWEEN EDWARD AND HARRY.

[EDWARD, alone, reading.]

Enter HARRY, with an important air.

Harry. H

OW are you,

Ned?

Edward. What, is it you, brother Harry? Were it not for the fmall part of your face, that appears between your fore-top and your cravat, I fhould never know you.

Har. My appearance is a little altered, to be fure; but I hope you will allow it is for the better.

Edw. I wish I could. I perceive, that, fome how or other, you are completely metamorphofed from a plain country lad, to a Bofton buck, beau, or fop: which is the current word in your varying town dialect, to exprefs fuch a thing as yourself?

Har. Ah, either of them will do. The young ladies fometimes call me Tippy Harry; that fuits my ear

the best.

Edw. That, I fuppofe, means a little fop, or, as I fhould exprefs it, a foppee, who is obliged to stand tiptoe to reach a lady her fan.

Har. One of your clownish blunders, Ned. It means an airy young gentleman, dreffed out in complete bon ton from head to foot, like myself.

Edw. "An airy young gentleman, dreffed out in complete bon ton," &c. &c. This definition may be of fervice to me; I will try to remember it. You always poffeffed one quality of a gentleman, a large share of good humour: I hope you will not be angry, brother, if I am a little inquifitive.

Har. Do, Ned, leave off ufing that old-fashioned word: I'd rather you would do any thing to me than brother me at this rate. If you fhould come to. Boston, dreffed as you are now, with your clumsy shoes. coarfe ftockings, great fmall-clothes, home-fpun

coat, and your old rufty go-to-mill hat, and fhake hands with me, in your awkward way; and then, to complete the whole, fhould call me brother, I fhould be thunderstruck! For my credit's fake, I should swear it was fome crazy ftraggler, I had seen in the country, and given a few coppers to keep him from starving. I would hide behind the counter, or lie rolled up in a piece of broadcloth a week, rather than be caught in fuch a scrape.

Edw. An airy young gentleman, indeed! would fwear to half a dozen lies, hide behind the counter, and roll yourself up in a piece of broadcloth like a filkworm, to fave your credit! You have improved much beyond my expectations, Tippy Harry! This founds better in your refined ear than brother Harry, I fuppofe.

Har. Yes it does, Ned, I'll affure you: thats your fort! You begin to come on a little. Now I'll tell you how it is, Ned; if you would take your old mufty library here, and lay it all on the fire together, and burn all your old-fashioned clothes with it, and then go to

Bofton

Edw. What, without any clothes, Harry?

Har. Why, I think I should about as lief be seen with you stark naked, as with your coarse, narrowbacked, fhort-waifted coat. But as I was faying before, then put yourself under the care of a tailor, barber, fhoe-maker, and a dancing mafter; keep a ftore of English goods about three months, go to the Theatre a dozen nights, chat with our Boston Tippies, have a few high goes, and freeze and thaw two or three times, for you are monftroufly ftiff; I fay, after all this, I believe, Ned, you would make a very clever fellow.

Edw. The freezing and thawing is a kind of difcipline I fhould not fo readily comply with. I have heard of feveral of your clever fellows, and ladies of your fort, who were found frozen in old barns, and behind board fences; but I never knew they were fo fortunate as to thaw again. Now, Harry, I will be

ferious with you. Your airy young gentleman, in my opinion, is a very infipid character; far beneath my ambition. A few materials from behind the counter, the tailor's needle and fhears, the barber's puff and pomatum, a little sheep fkin modified by the fhoe-maker, and what is the most infignificant of all, a little fupple, puny machine, that in plain English, I fhould call a naked fool; to ftrut about the ftreets with all this finery; carry it to the theatre, or dancing fchool; and teach it to fay a few pretty things by rote; these make the gentlemen of your fort. Mine is compofed of quite different materials.

Har. Pray let me know what they are? homefpun, I dare say. I am fuperfine, you ice, from head to foot.

Edw. Yes, Harry, you have blundered into one juft obfervation. In the first place, I would lay up a good ftore of knowledge, home-fpun from my own reflections, reading, and obfervation; not the fecondhanded fmattering of the moft ignorant of all beings. who use a tongue. The tailor's, barber's, and dancing master's bill fhould not show an inventory of all I poffeffed. They may make my clothes, drefs my hair, and teach me how to bow; but there must be fomething more to command the bow of respect from people of fenfe, the judges of real merit. In fhort, I would be a gentleman farmer; too well informed to be influenced by your railing newfpaper politics; too much delighted with the bleating and playing of the flocks in my own pafture, to read the head of Theatricals, or be amufed with any drove of ftage-players, that have infefted our country from Charleston to Portimouth. And I fhould be much more proud of raifing one likely calf, than as many of the most infipid of all animals, called Tippies as could stand in every shop in Cornhill,

Goliath.

DAVID AND GOLIATH.

THERE is the mighty man of war, who

WHE

dares

Accept the challenge of Philiftia's chief?

What victor-king, what gen'ral drench'd in blood,
Claims this high privilege? What are his rights?
What proud credentials does the boafter bring,
To prove his claim? What cities laid in afhes,
What ruin'd provinces, what flaughter'd realms,
What heads of heroes, and what hearts of kings,
In battle kill'd, or at his altars slain,

Has he to boaft? Is his bright armoury

Thick fet with fpears, and fwords, and coats of mail,
Of vanquish'd nations, by his fingle arm
Subdu'd? Where is the mortal man fo bold,
So much a wretch, fo out of love with life,
To dare the weight of this uplifted spear,
Which never fell innoxious? Yet I fwear,
I grudge the glory to his parting foul

To fall by this right hand. 'Twill fweeten death,
To know he had the honor to contend

With the dread fon of Anak. Latest time

From blank oblivion fhall retrieve his name,

Who dar'd to perish in unequal fight

With Gath's triumphant champion. Come, advance!
Philiftia's gods to Ifrael's. Sound, my herald,

Sound for the battle straight!

David. Behold thy foe!

Gol. I fee him not.

Dav. Behold him here!

Gol. Say, where?

Direct my fight. I do not war with boys.

Dav. I ftand prepar'd; thy fingle arm to mine. Gol. Why, this is mockery, minion! It may chance To coft thee dear. Sport not with things above thee: But tell me who, of all this num'rous hoft,

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