Unto a friend to tell our grief Affords our spirits much relief, Or, in the bosom of a sigh, "If this will not persuade you, my eloquence is vain." all the events which have taken place from Fayette's arrival to his departure, that republics are ungrateful, we must make up our minds to be called libellous-for we do insist, that such is the case, and furthermore, we intend to prove our assertion. It will no doubt be very unwelcome intelligence to the people of these United States, in the midst of their felicitations upon the pame they have gained for pure and honourable gratitude, that their self-congratulations are premature and ill-founded. Let them pause moment, and ask of history the actions and "Thou hast almost persuaded me." "Almost! nay, I hope altogether." “Then give me a moment's pause, a short respite to collect my scattered thoughts. This which I am about to tell, I once thought would never have been told-but you wring it from me, our long tested friendship gave the warranty so to do, and assures me, a thou wilt be as silent as the grave." "I will, my friend: go on" Awhile we paced along in silence, and his bosom being a little more composed, he began. [To be concluded in our next.] From the poems of Mr. Wade just published, we extract the following spirited lines. "Who can Death's dominion tell? Who the deeds of Death rehearse? His mighty work all ages swell- Youth, beauty, age, are all thine own; "Wide the earth; but not a spot "Triumphant Death! the skies may lose The stars may fall; be quench'd the sun, Let them the fate of ROBERT MORRIS. learn that the exertions of this great financier saved their infant nation from utter ruin-that when public credit was' prostrate, public faith untrusted, and public coffers empty, this patriotic man came forward debts of the government-that by the comand became personally responsible for the mand of his immense resources, and by the weight of his exalted character, he retrieved the state of affairs, and prevented the dissolution of the army. Let them next learn that he subsequently became embarrassed, chiefly in consequence of his generous exertions in behalf of the nation; and that grateful America suffered him to linger for years, and at last to die within the walls of the debtor's prison at Philadelphia. We are confident in the assertion that Robert Morris was the greatest public benefactor that our country ever had, for without his aid the army could not have been kept together, and Washington's best efforts would have been ineffectual. We make this assertion not on common hearsay, but on the information of men who lived and acted in those times, and who were intimately ac New-York Literary Gazette.quainted with the then existing circumstan THE ARMY OF THE REVOLUTION.-Late ces. If this were the sole instance of ill-requievents have brought into notice the survi-ted services and unrewarded worth, it might ving few of the long neglected veterans of perhaps be permitted to sleep in oblivion, our revolutionary army. We have heard and not be recalled as a base and foul spot much of the gratitude of the American re- on our national honour. But look again at public in rewarding Fayette with wealth, another's history, that of the injured, perseand thronging his path with cordial atten- cuted, and cheated, (we use the word in its tion and respect. A Washington Editor, in full meaning) ST. CLAIR. A man of honnoticing the treatment of this high-minded ourable ancestry, high and gentlemanly spiand noble man, exultingly exclaims, that rit, approved valor, and once unlimited is enough to repel for ever the scandalous wealth, driven by the injustice of his counslander that republics are ungrateful. Now, try, to the necessity of keeping a paltry tavif it be a vile slander to insist in the face of ern on the Alleghany mountains-is a pic lent, that he sported with the lighter graces of the imaginative muse, and even attempted to render lighter subjects pathetic. Hence a certain class of critics would deny him that power which he possessed whenever ture at which humanity weeps, and honour | feeling and passion. It was, however, a subis indignant. It is nevertheless an historical dued passion, for there is more pathos in picture. How many years the gallant Ma-Eloisa to Abelard, than in any of his poems, jor BARTON lingered in prison, after losing English language. The same may be said or, indeed, in any other production of the an independent fortune, we have not yet of the translation of the Iliad; it contains been able to ascertain; nor can we say all the fine and glowing energy of the origihow deeply the veteran STARK drank of nal. But Pope had such a versatility of tathe cup of poverty, in his declining years. These are but particular instances out of hundreds of the heartless neglect which the nation has exhibited to its early protectors and benefactors. In fact, the reception he chose to exert it. Have any of these criand treatment of Fayette, furnish the single tics been able to show, that all the various solitary instance of national gratitude. subjects which he touched are not of the first order in their kind, if we except St. This noble and generous man, thank hea- Cecilia's Day? Is there any thing, in the ven! has met the reward he so richly meri- whole range of English poetry, superior ted; but ere we make our conduct towards to the Rape of the Lock,' in its kind? What satirical works have we superior to an individual the theme of self-praise and his Dunciad? Had Pope entirely confinpride, it were well to look at the graves of ed himself to the pathetic Muse, it would not some, and the unhonored grey hairs of oth- now remain a question, whether he should ers, and ask ourselves whether much does rank with the first poets of his country; on not remain undone. the contrary, the question would be, whethWe shall resume this subject; and if the er the first poets of his country should rank with him? for surely it will not be contendtruths which we shall utter give offence ed that Milton is distinguished for the pathetand arouse asperity, we care not-they ic. His Paradise Lost and Regained, his shall be uttered, fearlessly and confidently. Allegro and Penseroso, &c. are the pure offspring of imagination, and require not the Should our carriers, in delivering the pa- sympathies of the heart to perceive their per, pass by any of our subscribers, or leave beauties; they entirely address themselves it by mistake with those who are not, we to the understanding and imagination." request that notice may be given us in either case. The following remark of Mr. Mc Dermot will interest those who dare, in spite of the critical cant of the age, to consider Pope in his true character. The wonderful discovery that Pope is no poet, is about as creditable to the sagacity of the nineteenth century as that of the perpetual motion is to its philosophy. "Shaken-but not O'erthrown.” A lofty pine upreared its head The monarch of the mountain's brow- Like some broad banner from afar, The night came down in clouded wrath, The angel of the tempest went- Re-echoed heaven's trumpet tone, It tottered in the mighty storm- Unbroken was its stately form :- "The poetry of feeling and passion is that wherein the heart and its affections are chiefly called into action :-it is that poetry which requires no exercise of reason to be understood; it is recognised instinctively by the heart. We do not want to reason upon it, or rather, we have not time. Our feelings steal a march upon our reason, and we are pleased before we have time to analyse the cause of our pleasure. The poetry of passion is of the highest order, and therefore the most rare and difficult to be met with. Goldsmith is perhaps the only English poet Jacobism is justified by Hobbes in the folwho can claim the exclusive merit of writ-lowing words:" Propter malorum privataing from the heart alone; not that he has not written pieces of wit and humour, but that his principal poems are the pure offspring of The storms of a degenerate age- J. G. B: tem recurrendum etiam bonis est, si se tueri volunt, ad virtutes bellicas, vimet dolum, id est ad ferinam rapacitatem." MISCELLANEOUS. SIR ROBERT WALPOLE. wrung." Sir Robert likewise figured off in another drama; Trollio, the Swedish Minister, in Gustavus Vasa, being designed by Mr. Brooke, as a resemblance of the premier; but his appearance on the stage, in that THIS celebrated minister flourished in one character, was prevented by the refusal of of the most interesting eras of England. Ci- the licenser to the play. The severest savilization in the preceding reigns had some-tire on the minister emanated from the pen what tamed the ferocity which is the stain of Swift; it is preserved in the Sessions Paof the earlier annals of the realm: death per; and the editor of the work observes, was no longer a sure attendant on a disgrac- that in this bitter and exaggerated catalogue ed favourite, and the ceremony of a trial of Sir Robert's failings, there are still some was considered to be necessary before con- traits of his real manner and character. demnation to the axe. Yet party feeling ran so high, that the minds of men were not entirely divested of those wild passions which refinement has now so happily softened down. "With favour and fortune fastidiously blest, mean 'Tis the cur-dog of Britain, and spaniel of Spain." Murder, though no longer committed by noblemen in the street, was connived at in the closet; the arts of diplomacy combined with every species and means of corruption; the cabinet was divided by intrigue, and ambassadors abroad were as much employed in thwarting their colleagues, as in maintaining a good understanding with foreign courts. Sketch of Mekemet Bey, by M. Rupele. Such was the stormy period of Sir Robert Mehemet Bey is one of the very few Walpole's administration, and to the long Turks who esteem and honour the sciences: peace which his unwearied exertions secur- he is passionately fond of geography, and ed for the country we may justly attribute takes uncommon interest in the new discothat amendment in manners and morals veries made in that branch of knowledge. which no unprejudiced person, in perusing He always carries with him a great terresthe History of England can fail to perceive trial atlas, made at Constantinople, and seSir Robert Walpole himself was deeply im-veral modern Turkish works, which treat bued with the spirit of the times; he served his on Geography, Astronomy, and Natural country faithfully, but was too apt to think Philosophy. He has some knowledge of all the end would sanctify the means. Though the sciences, and he displays it with a sort of of a peculiarly happy temperament, he some- pride and vanity before persons who have times allowed passion to overcome his rea- the same taste for them as himself. I was son; and one of these aberrations transport- much surprised to hear him explain, with ed him so far beyond the bounds of good great clearness and precision, the phenomebreeding, that he actually collared a mem- na of refraction and of attraction. He askber of the privy council, when, on some c-ed me the true cause of the declination and casion, words ran high between them. This variations of the magnetic needle. I conincident was seized by Gay; and a large fess that no school-boy was ever more emmajority of the audience, assembled to wit- barrassed than I was on this occasion. ness the representation of the Beggar's OpI have given the portrait of this extraorera who are diverted by the quarrel scene with dinary man, but only on one side: his cruelPeachum and Lockit, are not aware that it ty surpasses every thing that has been said, is a commemoration of Sir Robert's affray reported, and told of the ferocity of the most with a brother minister. At the period of horrible tyrants of antiquity of whom histothe first performance of this drama, a work ry makes mention. It is not easy to deal which owed great part of its early populari- with men of such character, especially when ty to political feeling, Sir Robert wisely ap- one is in their power. peared at the theatre, determined to show that the play* was not the thing to catch his conscience, and was seen to "laugh the heart's laugh," for which he was so celebrated, and to enter as freely into the joke as any of the numerous spectators: who, with one accord, turned their eyes from the stage to his box to see if his "withers were *The play's the thing By which I'll catch the conscience of the king." PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. JAMES G. BROOKS, Editor and Proprietor, No. 4 Wall-street, New-York. Subscriptions received by G. & C. Carvill, 127 Broadway-where communications may be left, or transmitted through the post-office to the editor. Terms-Four dollars per annum, payable in advance, J. SEYMOUR, printer, 49 John-street. wild ramble in rural scenery. The situation of Paris is very favourable for this enjoyment, We present our readers with another so that I very frequently shot through its sketch by the author of the "Highlanders." dom and the country; there, seated on a The scene lies in France. A SAD SOUVENIR. ...Ma di queste vittorie "Heard ye the din of battle bray, Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead." barriers, and plunged, as it were, into free bank, or supported by a tree, reclined on an eminence, or musing in the expanse of a plain, I have looked down on gilded roofs, and have flown from the present to the past; from objects standing actually before me, to those connected with the historic page. I have thus contemplated a tree where a battle had been fought, and rejoiced at seeing the peaceful plough-share furrowing the field of blood. In situations like these I have composed a thousand things, which will nevsketches from nature, and embodied many er see the light, and have noted down many ideas, which form a great proportion of my humble works. THE retirement of the mind is as salutary and necessary as the withdrawing of the body from the fatigue of public life, or from the agitation of pleasure even in a more private circle: the latter requires repose and The villages round the metropolis of solitude to recruit its strength and energy, France are many, the surrounding scenery so, also, does the former demand peaceful of some are beautiful; I have got them all quietude to restore it to its equilibrium, and by heart, I have written them all down on to ease it from the pressure of divided the tablets of my memory, that I may in futhought. This lonely peacefulness may be ture say with my favourite poet, on such and found in a cloister, a garden, or in the co- such a place or circumstance, lonnade of a castle; in a library, or in a bed"Forsan et hæc olim meminisse juvabit." chamber; but the most delightful retreat In one of these ramblings, and in one of for the mind is in the midst of a smiling these villages (I may not give its name), I country, where man finds himself the com- was overtaken by a July shower, which panion of nature, free and unfettered as the came like the luxury of tears, warm and copure wind upon the lofty mountain, and as pious, sudden and unpreceded by a cloud, far from the envious observation of men as and which left the vault of heaven more lovely the humble violet, whose form and fragrance and serene, and spangled all the foliage behave flourished and exhaled unperceived by neath with millions of sparkling gems: after the distant traveller on the populous highway which the little warblers emerged from their of life. This state is feelingly portrayed by retreats, and carolled a grateful hymn. EnRousseau, who in 1762, opening his whole chanting as the picture was, I was neverthesoul to M. de Malesherbes, said," On such less driven from it by the rain, and had to occasions, I sought in the forest with gentle take shelter under a roof of straw; the instep some wild spot, some deserted situation, habitants welcomed me with that obliging where nothing appearing to be of the hand of manner which comes from the heart, and I man, announced the existence of servitude found myself in a moment in the midst of a or domination; some sweet asylum or recess family group: an aged woman with a sprightwhere I might imagine that I had penetratedly looking boy, were on the right side of me, the first, and where no importunate unwel- and two females were on my left, the one come one could intrude betwixt nature and about twenty-five years of age, the other myself." might be three years younger; neither of Whenever the hand of care weighs upon them was actually beautiful, but each of my imagination, I disengage myself in like them had a je ne sais quoi of interest, which, manner from cities and from it, and take my' added to fine black eyes, and a tinge of me lancholy, not of natural Gallic growth, gave | managed a large farm, and imposed a vow of them much attraction. The one was reading widowhood on herself; every thing prosperwhilst the other was making up linen for the ed for a time, and her children grew up to little boy; I eyed attentively, and could promising youth looking to maturity, and her trace so strong a resemblance in the two lands were grateful to the cultivator's hand. young women, that it was evident they were The arms of France were now carried into sisters; the mother was of a different cast, almost every quarter of Europe, nor could she had regular fine features, a complexion the advantages which they gained be purblanched by time, and a large but hollow chased without much blood; the conscripeye, which looked as if it had not been a tion was mowing down the youth of the stranger to tears; the pretty child was hab-provinces, whilst invading legions were layited in a military jacket, and was playing with ing waste the neighbouring states; the lot the old woman, whose partial look told me now fell on Victor, the industrious woman's that he was her grand-child. I kissed the eldest son, a heavy sacrifice of money prolittle fellow, and gave him some fruit which cured him a substitute; the remplaçant was I had put in my pocket, and (endeavouring killed in action, Victor was called upon to make myself as much as possible a friend once more, and a second conscription deto the family) I proceeded to inform them of manded his brother Joseph. The whole what I had conjectured from the similarity farm was sold to spare these youths from the of features, asking at the same time to whom perils to which they were exposed, and to the young soldier belonged: "Hélas, il est a preserve to the widow those arms and sermoi," sighed out the eldest daughter. "Com-vices which earned the bread of a whole ment?" cried the child, "est ce que tu ne family, struggling against adverse fortune, m'aimes pas, maman?"—(“how ! mamma, and stemming an overwhelming tide which dost thou not love me?")-"Je t'aime de environed them on every side. Le courage toute mon ame, Theodore; mais”—(I love malheureux fell in the field, the two substithee with all my heart, Theodore, but-) tutes were slain, and the elder brother be"mais grandmaman m'aime davantage," came liable again: destitute of means (the (but grandmamma loves me better,) conclud- widow being stretched upon a bed of sicked hearchly. Here the mother burst into tears,ness), the younger brother volunteered in whilst the child hid his head in the old wo-his place, in company with the husband of man's bosom; the youngest daughter with- one sister, and the lover of the other, and they drew through a back door, and I felt dis-paid the forfeit of their lives to a success, the tressed at having awakened some slumber-effects of which they never shared; and ing sorrow, and at having opened some half-scarcely were these brave men allied in mishealed wound; I looked pensive and confus-fortune, cold upon the gory plain, when ed, whilst an involuntary impulse led me to Victor was summoned again, and marched take the mother and daughter by the hands,up in person to fill the vacant place of him and to seat myself betwixt them. Casting whom he sought in vain in the diminished a glance upwards, I perceived a rusty sabre ranks. Despair adds weight to the comhanging on a nail, and the cross of the le-batant's sword; Victor's was heavy with adgion of honour twisted round its hilt: the versity and personal feeling; with military grandmother caught my eye fixed upon the ardour and revenge, which sought the deblade of the sabre, and sobbed out, "voilà, stroyers of his race; he performed (as his monsieur, tout ce qui nous reste ;"" that is mother said) des prodiges, and was decorated all that remains to us;" she drew her breath on the spot; but his arms and order were all and repeated, voila tout! with an emphasis which a sorrowing wounded comrade brought which spoke a whole history of woe to a from the battle of Mont.-St.-Jean. Here feeling heart." Oui, je porterai ce sabre."--the measure of affliction of the survivors "Yes, I shall wear that sabre," interrupted overflowed with bitterness; a husband and the child."I hope not," exclaimed both fe- a lover, a protector and a son, were no more males at once.—“You have lost your hus-to bless the abode which once knew comband, good woman," observed I.—" Long, long ago," answered she; "I have been father and mother to the poor children." By this time the youngest daughter returned (her tears dried up), and leaned with her arms folded on the back of a chair; the little fellow skipped about the room, and the venerable mourner proceeded to tell me her distressing tale, which I shall convey to my reader as briefly as possible. She had lost her husband in the bloom of youth, leaving her two sons and two daughters, the better to provide for whom she fort, to procure the blazing faggot, or the frugal fare; disconsolateness stood on the one hand, and poverty shivered on the other; mercy invisible, however, inspired them with patience and industry; a roof is above their heads; and want stalking at their heels, has not yet overtaken them. How have their means dwindled from a sort of affluence to mediocrity, and from thence to a precarious existence; from a dwelling of life and love, to a monument of unavailing grief; what now remains to them of former prosperity? where are days of |