trances of some houses are so concealed that you cannot find them without difficulty; others are directly upon the street; some buildings present one end only to view, some are placed at a great great distance from the street, with gardens in front; in short it is impossible, I believe, to imagine a design for a dwelling house, which has not some precedent in Boston. The publick edifices in general do not evince the elegance and taste, which are displayed in many of the dwelling houses. I shall take occasion to describe the most remarkable, when I have sufficient leisure to examine them with attention.

Beacon Hill is an eminence, which commands a delightful prospect of the harbour of Boston and the surrounding country. There is a miserable column of brick placed upon the summit of this hill which the inhabitants ridiculously dignify with the name of monument. It contains four inscriptions round its base, intended I presume to revive the patriotism of those Americans who happen to read them, by allusions to the surrounding scenery: but which, from the contemptible structure on which they are engraven, and as they speak very little in favour of the patriotism or munificence of those who caused it to be erected, do not seem well calculated to produce the contemplated ef fect. If it be a monument of any thing, it is of disgrace to the city, in suffering so miserable a memorial to stand, of the glorious achievements of their councils and their arms. The economy of the government seems to pervade all classes of the people, in regard to national objects; but in great dinners and feasts of every description, I am told, they are eminently distinguished. They eat into a great man's favour, and drink their political enemies into destruction. The money they pro fusely and lavishly expend for such temporary objects might be collected and applied to the institution of some permanent national establishment, which, whilst it would leave honourable testimony of the true patriotism which originated it, would effect the necessary purpose of party, in a manner much more dignified and equally successful.

WE have often had occasion to notice the pretensions of Mr. Southey, as a poet. In endeavouring to establish a new system of versification and sentiment, derived partly from German and French models, and partly from his own imagination, he has been the ridicule of many writers, who, if he had contented himself with a more unostentatious dis play of his acknowledged talents, would have been ready to have awarded to him the panegyricks which many of his writings deserve.

The poem of Thalaba, which seems to have many admirers in this country, was the first systematick attempt to innovate upon the estab lished institution of English verse, and among all men of taste has en. tirely failed. It certainly has had very little effect in producing imitators. It may be somewhat entertaining to our readers to peruse the following remarks upon the versification of Thalaba.

• The first thing that strikes the reader of Thalaba, is the singular structure of the versification, which is a jumble of all the measures that are known in English poetry, (and a few more) without rhyme, and without any sort of regularity in their arrangement. Blank odes have been known in this country about as long as English sapphicks and dactylicks; and both have been considered, we believe, as a species of monsters, or exoticks, that were not very likely to propagate, or thrive, in so unpropitious a climate. Mr. Southey, however, has made a vigorous effort for their naturalization, and generously endangered his own reputation in their behalf. The melancholy fate of his English sapphicks we believe is but too generally known; and we can scarcely predict a more favourable issue to the present experiment. Every combination of different measures is apt to perplex and disturb the reader who is not familiar with it; and we are never reconciled to a stanza of a new structure, till we have accustomed our ear to it by two or three repetitions. This is the case even where we have the assistance of rhyme to direct us in our search after regularity, and where the definite form and appearance of a stanza assures us that regularity is to be found. Where both of these are wanting, it may be imagined that our condition will be still more deplorable; and a compassionate author might even excuse us, if we were unable to distinguish this kind of verse from prose. In reading verse in general, we are guided to the discovery of its melody, by a sort of preconception of its cadence and compass; without which, it might often fail to be suggested by the mere articulation of the syllables.

'The author, however, entertains a different opinion of it. So far from apprehending that it may cost his readers some trouble to convince themselves that the greater part of the book is not mere prose written out into the form of verse, he is persuaded that its melody is more obvious and perceptible than that of our vulgar measures. 'One advantage,' says Mr. Southey, this metre assuredly possesses; the dullest reader cannot distort it into discord: he may read it with a prose mouth, but its flow and fall will still be perceptible.' We are afraid there are duller readers in the world than Mr. Southey is aware of. We recommend the following passages for experiment.'

'The Day of the Trial will come,
'When I shall understand how profitable
It is to suffer now.'

Hodeirah groaned and closed his eyes, IT to mong sil As if in the night and the blindness of death

He would have hid himself."

'Azure and yellow, like the beautiful fields
"Of England, when amid the growing grass
"The blue-bell bends, the golden king-cup shines,
In the merry month of May!'

But Thalaba took not the draught,

For rightly he knew had the Prophet forbidden
"That beverage the mother of sins.'

they perish all,

All in that dreadful hour: but I was saved, de
To remember and revenge.",

Like the flowing of a summer-gale, he felt breinwo
Its ineffectual force;

His countenance was not changed, 122
Nor a hair of his head was singed.'

Aye! look and triumph!' he exclaimed,
This is the justice of thy God!
'A righteous God is he, to let

His

vengeance fall upon the innocent head!
"Curse thee, curse thee, Thalaba !'

• With what a thirst of joy

f

19

He should breathe in the open gales of heaven!" (28 day gl

Mr. Southey must excuse us for doubting, whether even a poet's mouth could turn these passages into good verse; and we are afraid, the greater part of his readers will participate in our scepticism

ADVERSARIA.

THE ELECTIONS

IN this state and New-Hampshire will be of incalculable importance> to the prosperity of the union. The fire of patriotism had subsided, but was not extinguished; it has been kindled anew and we firmly. hope our counsellors at Washington will be guided by its light into the paths of integrity and wisdom. As the desertion of the federal policy has been the principal cause of all our difficulties with foreign nations, we have a strong expectation that a re-adoption of similar sentiments would now produce effects as beneficial, as those of democracy have been disastrous.

The success of the election of Governour and Senators should incite us to new exertions in the choice of Representatives, in order to secure a triumph. The struggle may be arduous; but if our resources are again exerted, the victory is certain.

GRATITUDE OF STATES.

GRATITUDE is doubtless due from the obliged to those wh oblige them, as long as they do not pretend to measure or force their

ર

own reward, nor to use the others ill upon the pure merit of having used them well. There is such a thing as cancelling an obligation in publick as well as in private life. A state may sometimes overpay a benefactor; but scarce any subject can do more for a state than he owes it. The people lose much more by their generosity to their benefactors, than their benefactors lose by the ingratitude or stinginess of the people, whose fault is almost always on the other side. But suppose it had happened sometimes (which has rarely happened) that a worthy man should not meet a proper reward from his countrymen, for publick services done them; it is still better that he has too little or even none, than too much, and a worthy man will never seek revenge upon his country for a mistake in his merit.' CATO'S LETTERS.

THEOLOGICAL CREEDS. T

"THERE are few "THEOLOGICAL SYSTEMS" in the world (legal establishments excepted) but contain almost as many falsehoods as words, and as much nonsense as matter. Give the corrupt priests but some odd, unintelligible and ill-favoured words, suppose hic bac, trim tram, b bow wow, fee fa fum, or any other sound that is utterly devoid of any rational meaning, they shall instantly find profound mystery init, and fetch substantial advantages out of it. Nay when they are got in full possession of the said word, you are damned if you deny it to be sense, and damned if you endeavour to make sense of it."

ENTHUSIASM.

RELIGIOUS enthusiasm is a flaming conceit that we have great personal interest with the Deity, and that the Deity is eminently employed about us, or in us; that he warms and solaces our hearts, guides our understandings and our steps, determines our will, and sets us far above those who have less pride and more sense than ourselves. The enthusiast heats his own head by extravagant imaginations, then makes the all-wise spirit of God to be the author of his hot head; and working up all his brains into the clouds, despises and hates all that are below, and if he can kills them, unless they submit to be as mad as himself; for, because he takes his own frenzy for inspiration, you n must be guided by his frenzy; and if you are not, you are a rebel to God, and 'tis ten to one but he has a call to put you to death.

I have but a bad opinion of that devotion which is raised by a crazed head, and can be improved by a dram, and a hot sun, or the assistance of wine, or can be lessened by cold weather, or by letting of blood. It is great madness mixed with presumption to pretend to have the Spirit of God, unless we can show it by doing works which only God's Spirit can do, that spirit which can do all things but foolish