°^ **, 
 
 
 
 ,G V ^o, ♦/^T«* A 
 
 
 V I 
 
 * o 
 
 
 * V Nf •»,? 
 
 .**.*'•♦ ^ 
 
 dV . » ' .n^'* \> \> 
 
 • 
 
 ^ A ^4Vr V ^ * 2 * flC - ^ 
 
 
 
 <w> 
 
 
 «r <fc 
 
 
 * P. 
 
 *fc >* 
 
 * 0„ 
 
 
 »^ *L.*^L'. 
 
 
 
 
 
 - ^ .•■ 
 
 A°* 
 

 
 
AMERICAN ERECEPTOR 
 
 ' <"■ IMPRO^JED; ^ 
 
 BEING 
 
 A NEW SELECTION OF LESSONS 
 
 ~^^ F0R 
 
 READING AND SPEAKING. 
 
 DESIGNED 
 
 FOR THE USE OF SCHOOLS. 
 
 BY CALEB BINGHAM, A. M. 
 
 AUTHOR OP THE COLUMBIAN ORATOR, CHILD'S COMPANION, &C 
 
 5 TRAIN UP A CHILD IK THE WAT HE SHOULD GO—" 
 
 SIXTY-EIGHTH (EIGHTH IMPROVED) EDITION. 
 
 Siufclisjetr tn Boston, 
 
 BY J. H. A. FROST, LINCOLN AND EDMANDS, STIMPSON AND CLAPP, 
 
 MARSH, CAPEN AND LYON : NEW-YORK, COLLINS AND HANNAY : 
 
 TROY, N. Y.. WILLIAM S. PARKER: PHILADELPHIA, GRIGG 
 
 AND ELLIOT : BALTIMORE, CUSHING AND SONS : 
 
 CINCINNATI, HUBBARD AND EDMANDS. 
 
 1833. 
 

 * 
 
 %* 
 
 — ' >' * - - » * •••■■ 
 
 Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1832, 
 
 By J. H. A. Frost, 
 
 in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. 
 
 
 1233 
 
 PREFACE TO THE FIRST STEREOTYPE EDITION, 
 
 The sale of nearly a million copies of the American Pre- 
 ceptor, since its first publication, is the best proof of ite 
 popularity; and the continued demand for it, notwithstanding 
 the numerous compilations of the same description, which 
 have risen in competition with it, is no inconsiderable proof 
 of its excellence. 
 
 A new edition is called for, and the proprietor has been at 
 the trouble and expense of revising the whole book, adapting 
 the orthography and pronunciation to Walker's rules, and, 
 what is of no little consequence, fixing its correctness by 
 beautifully stereotyping the work. 
 
 WM. B. FOWLK 
 
 STEREOTYPED AT THE BOSTON TYPE AND STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page. 
 
 History of Demosthenes, ■ 5 
 
 Select Sentences, • 7 
 
 A Hint to Parents, 12 
 
 i Parable against religious Persecution, 13 
 
 History of Joseph, abridged, 14 
 
 On the Instinct of Animals, - 18 
 
 Ingenious Villany finally punished, 21 
 
 The Child trainee! up for the Gallows, 23 
 
 Sketch of Jerusalem and Palestine, 25 
 
 The faithful American Dog, 29 
 
 The Miller of Mansfield,. . . 30 
 
 Of Queen Mary and the Martyrs, 33 
 
 Story of Logan, A Mingo Chief, 35 
 
 The aged Prisoner released from, the Bastile, 37 
 
 Account of Columbus, * 39 
 
 Columbia, 43 
 
 Parental Tenderness, 45 
 
 The Sailor and the Monkeys, 46 
 
 The brave Soldier's Revenge, 47 
 
 Sketch of the Life of William Penn, 47 
 
 Sketch of the Life of Fernando Cortez, 49 
 
 Dialogue between Fernando Cortez and "William Penn, .52 
 
 The Whistle, 55 
 
 True Patriotism displayed at the Siege of Calais, 56 
 
 Anecdote of Montesquieu,. . , « 60 
 
 The benevolent Pair, •- 61 
 
 The unfortunate Philanthropist, 62 
 
 St. Paul s Speech before King Agrippa, 63 
 
 Cruelty to Animals, 65 
 
 Speech of Nicolaus, . . , 66 
 
 The true Point of Honour, 63 
 
 The House of Sloth, 70 
 
 Advice to a young Tradesman, 72 
 
 Parental Affection. Story of the Bear, t 73 
 
 The Victim. An Indian Story, 75 
 
 Extract from the Speech of Mr. Phillips, 76 
 
 Conclusion of the foregoing Speech, 79 
 
 Example of Justice and Magnanimity, 80 
 
 Dialogue on Duelling, 81 
 
 Speech of Mr. Pitt on the Slave-Trade, , 84 
 
 The Slaves. An Elegy, 86 
 
 The humane Indian, .- 88 
 
 The Mammoth, 89 
 
 Fashionable Education misapplied, „ 91 
 
 Singular Adventure of General Putnam, % 94 
 
 Extract from Dr. Warren's Oration, ." 96 
 
 Self-Interest. A Dialogue, 97 
 
 On Profane Swearing, 101 
 
 The Triumph of Virtue, , 1 02 
 
iv CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 Female Industry, 104 
 
 The Lap-Dog, 105 
 
 Extract from Mr. Dawes' Oration, 107 
 
 General Washington's Resignation, 108 
 
 Speech of a Scythian Ambassador, 109 
 
 The Revenge of a great Soul, .110 
 
 Cudjoe, the faithful African, . . 112 
 
 The Indian Chief, 13 
 
 Dialogue on Dress and Assurance, 
 
 Speech of Publius Scipio, 
 
 Speech of Hannibal,.. 
 
 Dr. Belknap's Address. to the Inhabitants of New-Hampshire,. . . . 
 
 Quackery. A Dialogue,... 124 
 
 Of the Elephant, 127 
 
 Speech of Mr. Walpole, 129 
 
 Mr. Pitt's Answer to Mr. Walpole, 131 
 
 Story of a second Joseph, . . 132 
 
 Scene between Cato and Decius, 134 
 
 The Beggar's Petition, 136 
 
 The Test of Goodness, 137 
 
 Description of Mount iEtna, 138 
 
 Dialogue between two Schools-Boys, 140 
 
 Extract from J. Q* Adams' Oration, 143 
 
 On Knowing the World at an early Age, 145 
 
 History of Pocahuntas, 148 
 
 Speech of Caius Marius, 151 
 
 Fraternal Affection, 153 
 
 Conveniences not always Necessaries, ^ . .156 
 
 The Hottentot and the Lion, ...... 159 
 
 Gustavus Vasa and Cristiern,. .160 
 
 Narrative of Four Sailors, » • • • . 
 
 Pedigree. A Dialogue, 
 
 Description of the Falls of Niagara, 
 
 Messiah. A sacred Eclogue,. 
 
 Narrative of Mrs. Howe's Captivity, 
 
 Narrative of Mrs. Howe, concluded, 
 
 Mr. Pitt's Speech, 1775, . 
 
 The Lion, 
 
 Story of the grateful Turk, 
 
 The Quarrel of Brutus and Cassius, 19 
 
 Speech o£ Demosthenes, 
 
 Judge Hale's Advice to his Children, 
 
 Conclusion of Judge Hale's Advice to his Children, 206 
 
 Brutus' Speech on the Death of Caesar, 208 
 
 Antony's Speech over the Body of Caesar, .209 
 
 Rolla and Alonzo, • 212 
 
 General Wolfe's Address to his Army,. ., 214 
 
 Foscari, the unfortunate Venetian,- 215 
 
 Cicero's Oration against Verres, 219 
 
 History of WilliamTell, 220 
 
 The Field of Battle, .....223 
 
 Insincerity in Conversation, 224 
 
 The Yankee in England, 225 
 
THE 
 
 AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 History of the Orator Demosthenes. 
 
 DEMOSTHENES, having lost his father at the age of 
 seven years, and falling into the hands of selfish and avari- 
 cious guardians, who were wholly bent upon plundering his es- 
 tate, was not educated with the care which so excellent a 
 genius as his deserved ; and the delicacy of his constitution 
 did not allow his masters to urge him in regard to his studies. 
 
 2. Hearing them one day speak of a famous cause that 
 was to be pleaded, and which made a great noise in the 
 city, he importuned them very much to carry him with 
 them to the bar, in order to hear the pleadings. The or- 
 ator was heard with great attention, and, having been very 
 successful was conducted home in a very ceremonious 
 manner, amidst a crowd of illustrious citizens, who ex- 
 pressed the highest satisfaction. 
 
 3. Demosthenes was strongly affected with the honours 
 which were paid to the orator, and still more with the 
 absolute and despotick power which eloquence had over 
 the mind. He himself was sensible of its force, and, unable 
 to resist its charms, he from that day devoted himself en- 
 tirely to it, and immediately laid aside every other pleasure 
 and study. 
 
 4. His first essay of eloquence was against his guardians, 
 whom he obliged to restore part of his fortune. Encour- 
 aged by this good success, he ventured to speak before the 
 people, but he acquitted himself very ill on that occasion, 
 for he had a faint voice, stammered in his speech, and had a 
 very short breath. 
 
 5. He therefore was hissed by the whole audience, and 
 went home quite dejected, and determined to abandon for 
 ever a profession to which he imagined himself unequal. 
 But one of his hearers, who perceived an excellent genius 
 amidst his faults, encouraged him, by the strong remonstran- 
 ces he made, and the salutary advice he gave him. He 
 therefore appeared a second time before the people, but with 
 no better success than before. 
 
 I* 
 
6 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 6. As he was going home with downcast eyes, and full 
 of confusion, he was met by his friend Satyrus, one of the 
 best actors of the age ; who, being informed of the cause of 
 his chagrin, told Demosthenes only to repeat some verses to 
 him, which he immediately did. 
 
 7. Satyrus then repeated them after him, and gave them 
 quite another grace, by the tone of voice, the gesture, and 
 vivacity with which he spoke them, so that Demosthenes 
 observed they had quite a different effect. This made him 
 sensible of what he wanted, and he applied himself to the 
 attainment of it. 
 
 8. His endeavours to correct the natural impediment in 
 his speech, and to perfect himself in utterance, of the value 
 of which his friend had made him so sensible, seem almost 
 incredible, and demonstrate that indefatigable industry can 
 overcome all difficulties. 
 
 9. He stammered to such a degree that he could not 
 pronounce certain letters at all, and among others that 
 which began the name of the art he studied ; and his 
 breath was so short that he could not utter a whole period 
 without stopping. However, Demosthenes overcame all 
 these obstacles, by putting little pebbles into his mouth, 
 and then repeating several verses without taking breath. 
 
 10. He would do this when he walked, and ascended 
 very craggy and steep places, so that at last he could pro- 
 nounce all the letters without hesitating, and speak the long- 
 est periods without once taking breath. But this was not all, 
 for he used to- go to the sea-shore, and speak his orations 
 when the weather was most boisterous, in order to prepare 
 himself, by the confused noise of the waves, for the uproar 
 of the people, and the cries of tumultuous assemblies. 
 
 11. He had a large mirror, before which he used to de- 
 claim before he spoke in publick; and, as he had an ill 
 habit of drawing up his shoulders, he hung a drawn .sword 
 over them with the point downwards. He was well'' paid 
 for his trouble, since, by these methods, he carried the art 
 of declaiming to the highest perfection of which it was 
 capable. 
 
 12. His application to study, in other respects, was equal 
 to the pains he took to conquer his natural defects. He 
 had a room made under ground, that he might be remote 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 7 
 
 from noise and disturbance, and this was to be seen many 
 centuries afterwards. There he shut himself up for months 
 together, and had half his head shaved, that his ridiculous 
 appearance might prevent him from going abroad. 
 
 13. It was there, by the light of a small lamp, he com- 
 posed those excellent harangues, which smelt, as his enemies 
 declared, of the oil, to insinuate they were too much labour- 
 ed. It is very evident, replied he, yours did not cost you so 
 much trouble. 
 
 14. Eschines,* a rival orator, opposed the decree which 
 bestowed a crown of gold upon Demosthenes. The cause 
 was argued with the greatest eloquence on both sides, but 
 Eschines was unsuccessful, and suffered exile for his rash 
 attempt. When he was departing from Athens, Demosthenes 
 ran after him, and prevailed upon him to accept of a sum of 
 money to pay his expenses. 
 
 15. Eschines, astonished at his liberality, exclaimed, I 
 have reason to regret my departure from a country where 
 my enemies are so generous that I do not expect to find 
 friends equal to them elsewhere. He afterwards established 
 a school for eloquence at Rhodes, which was long cele- 
 brated. 
 
 16. He commenced his lessons by delivering to his audi- 
 tors his own oration against Demosthenes, and that of De- 
 mosthenes, which caused his banishment. They bestowed 
 great praise upon his own ; but, when he came to that of De- 
 mosthenes, their acclamations redoubled. If such is your 
 applause, said he, at my delivery, what would you have said 
 if you had heard Demosthenes himself? 
 
 Select Sentences. 
 
 Jl IME is more valuable to young people than to any 
 others. They should not lose an hour in forming their taste, 
 their manners, and their minds ; for whatever- they are to a 
 certain degree, at eighteen, they will be more or less so, all 
 the rest of their lives. 
 
 2. Nothing can be of greater service to a young man, 
 who has any degree of understanding, than an intimate con- 
 
 * Pronounced E'ski-neez. 
 
8 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 versation with one of riper years, who is not only able to 
 advise, but who knows the manner of advising. By this 
 mean, youth can enjoy the benefit of the experience of age ; 
 and that at a time of life when such experience will be of 
 more service to a man than when he has lived long enough 
 to acquire it of himself. 
 
 3. The kindnesses, which most men receive from others, 
 are like traces drawn in the sand. The breath of every 
 passion sweeps them away, and they are remembered no 
 more. But injuries are like inscriptions on monuments of 
 brass or pillars of marble, which endure, unimpaired, the 
 revolutions of time. 
 
 4. View the groves in autumn, and observe the constant 
 succession of falling leaves ; in like manner, the generations 
 of men silently drop from the stage of life, and are blended 
 with the dust from whence they sprang. 
 
 5. Perfect happiness is not the growth of a terrestrial soil ; 
 it buds in the gardens of the virtuous on earth, but blooms 
 with unfading verdure only in the celestial regions. 
 
 6. He, who would pass the latter part of his life with hon- 
 our and decency, must, when he is young, consider that he 
 shall one day be old ; and remember, when he is old, that he 
 has once been young. 
 
 7. He, who governs his passions, does more than he who 
 commands armies. Socrates, being one day offended with 
 his servant, said, " I would beat you if I were not angry." 
 
 8. We too often judge of men by the splendour, and not 
 by the merit, «of their actions. Alexander demanded of a 
 pirate, whom he had taken, by what right he infested the seas ? 
 " By the same right," replied he boldly, " that you enslave 
 the world. I am called a robber, because I have only one 
 small vessel ; but you are styled a conqueror, because you 
 command great fleets and armies." 
 
 9. Beauty, as the flowery blossom, soon fades ; but the 
 divine excellences of the mind, like the medicinal virtues of 
 the plant, remain in it when all those charms are withered. 
 
 10. There are two considerations which always imbitter 
 the heart of an avaricious man ; the one is a perpetual thirst 
 after more riches ; the other, the prospect of leaving what he 
 hath already acquired. 
 
 11. There cannot be a more glorious object in creation. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 9 
 
 than a human being replete with benevolence, meditating in 
 what manner he may render himself most acceptable to his 
 Creator, by doing most good to his creatures. 
 
 12. A man should never be ashamed to own he has been 
 in the wrong ; which is but saying, in other words, that he is 
 wiser to-day than he was yesterday. 
 
 13. Knowledge will not be acquired without pains and 
 application. It is troublesome digging for deep, pure waters ; 
 but when once you come to the spring, they rise up and meet 
 you. 
 
 14. The most unhappy effect of fashionable politeness is, 
 that it teaches us the art of dispensing with the virtues which 
 it imitates. Let us be educated to cherish the principles of 
 benevolence and humanity, and we shall have politeness 
 enough, or shall stand in no need of it. 
 
 15. If we should not have that which is accompanied by 
 the graces, we should have that which bespeaks the honest 
 man and the good citizen. We should stand in no need of 
 having recourse to the falsehood of appearances. 
 
 16. Man is the only being endowed with the power of 
 laughter, and perhaps he is the only one who deserves to be 
 laughed at. 
 
 17. It is the great privilege of poverty to be happy unen- 
 vied, to be healthful without physick, and secure without a 
 guard ; to obtain from the bounty of nature what the great 
 and wealthy are compelled to procure by the help of artists, 
 and the attendance of flatterers and spies. 
 
 18. Prudence is a duty which we owe ourselves, and, if we 
 will be so much our own enemies as to neglect it, we are not 
 to wonder if the world is deficient in discharging their duty 
 to us ; for, when a man lays the foundation of his own ruin, 
 others, too often, are apt to build upon it. 
 
 19. There are no principles but those of religion to be 
 depended on in cases of real distress ; and these are able to 
 encounter the worst emergencies, and to bear us up under all 
 the changes and chances to which our lives are subject. 
 
 20. Riches without charity are worth nothing. They are 
 a blessing only to him who makes them a blessing to others. 
 
 21. The tongue of a viper is less hurtful than that of a 
 slanderer ; and the gilded scales of a rattlesnake less dread- 
 ful than the purse of the oppressor. 
 
10 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 22. As benevolence is the most sociable of all the virtues 
 so it is of the largest extent ; for there is not any man, either 
 so great or so little, but he is yet capable of giving and of re- 
 ceiving benefits. 
 
 23. When thou dost good, do it because it is good ; not 
 because men esteem it so. When thou avoidest evil, flee 
 from it because it is evil ; not because men speak against 
 it. Be honest for the love of honesty, and thou shalt be 
 uniformly so. He who doth it without principle is waver- 
 ing. 
 
 24. Wish rather to be reproved by the wise than to be 
 applauded by him who hath no understanding. When they 
 tell thee of a fault, they suppose thou canst improve ; the 
 other, when he praiseth thee, thinketh thee like unto him- 
 self. 
 
 25. Set not thy judgement above that of all the earth ; 
 neither condemn as falsehood what agreeth not with thine 
 own apprehension. Who gave thee the power of deter- 
 mining for others ? or who took from the world the right of 
 choice 1 
 
 26. How many things have been rejected, which now 
 are received as truths ; how many, now received as truths, 
 will in their turn be despised ? Of what, then, can man be 
 certain ! 
 
 27. An immoderate desire of riches is a poison lodged in 
 the soul. It contaminates and destroys every thing which 
 was good in it. It is no sooner rooted there, than all virtue, 
 all honesty, all natural affection, fly before the face of it. 
 
 28. Drunkenness is but voluntary madness ; it imboldens 
 men to do all sorts of mischiefs ; it both irritates wickedness 
 and discovers it ; it does not merely make men vicious, but it 
 shows them to be so. 
 
 29. Every man should mind his own business ; for he who 
 torments himself with other people's good or ill fortune will 
 never be at rest. 
 
 30. To set about acquiring the habit of meditation and 
 study late in life, is like getting into a go-cart with a gray 
 beard, and learning to walk when we have lost the use of our 
 legs. In general, the foundation of a happy old age must be 
 laid in youth; and he who has not cultivated his reason 
 young will be utterly unable to improve it when old. 
 
THE AxMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 11 
 
 31. Endeavour to be first in your profession, and let no 
 one go before you in doing well. Nevertheless, do not envy 
 the merits of another ; but improve your own talents. 
 
 32. Never reveal your secrets to any, except k be as 
 much their interest to keep them as it is yours they should 
 be kept. Intrust only thyself, and thou canst not be be- 
 trayed. 
 
 33. Glory, like a shadow, fleeth him who pursueth it ; but 
 it followeth at the heels of him who would flee from it. If 
 thou court it without merit, thou shalt never attain unto it ; 
 if thou deserve it, though thou hide thyself, it will never 
 forsake thee. 
 
 34. Pursue that which is honourable, do that which is 
 right, and the applause of thine own conscience will be more 
 joy to thee than the shouts of millions, who know not that 
 thou deservest them. 
 
 35. Love labour. If you do not want it for food, you may 
 for physick. The idle man is more perplexed to know what 
 to do than the industrious in doing what he ought. There 
 are few who know how to be idle and innocent. By doing 
 nothing, we learn to do ill. 
 
 36. Honour thy father with thy whole heart, and forget not 
 the sorrows of thy mother. How canst thou recompense 
 them the things which they have done for thee ? 
 
 37. It is a mark of a depraved mind to sneer at decrepit 
 old age, or to ridicule any one who is deformed in his person, 
 or lacketh understanding. Who maketh one to differ from 
 another 1 
 
 38. The merciful man is merciful to his beast ; and he, 
 who takes pleasure in tormenting any of God's creatures, 
 although ever so inferiour, ought to be banished from human 
 society, and ranked among the brutes. 
 
 39. Admonish thy friend ; it may be he hath not done it ; 
 and, if he hath, that he do it no more. Admonish thy friend; 
 it may be he hath not said it ; or, if he hath, that he speak it 
 not again. Admonish a friend ; for many times it is a slan- 
 der ; and believe not every tale. 
 
 40. Be not forward in leading the conversation. This 
 belongs to the oldest persons in company. Display your 
 learning only on particular occasions. Never oppose the 
 opinion of another, but with great modesty. 
 
13 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 41. On all occasions, avoid speaking of yourself, if possible 
 Nothing that we can say ourselves will varnish our defects, 
 or add lustre to our virtues ; on the contrary, it will often 
 make the former more visible, and the latter obscure. 
 
 42. Without a friend, the world is but a wilderness. A 
 man may have a thousand intimate acquaintances, and not a 
 friend among them all. If you have one friend, think your- 
 self happy. 
 
 43. There is but one way of fortifying the soul against all 
 gloomy presages and terrours of the mind ; and that is, by 
 securing to ourselves the friendship and protection of that 
 Being who disposes of events and governs futurity. 
 
 A Hint to Parents. 
 
 J.T is to be wished that parents would consider what a va- 
 riety of circumstances tend to render the evil reports of their 
 children, respecting their teachers, false and exaggerated.* 
 
 2. They judge hastily, partially, imperfectly, and improp- 
 erly, from the natural defects and weakness of their age. 
 They, likewise, too often intentionally misrepresent things. 
 They hate those who restrain them; they feel resentment for 
 correction ; they love change ; they love idleness, and the 
 indulgences of their home. 
 
 3. Like all human creatures, they are apt not to know 
 when they are well* and to complain. Let parents, then, con- 
 sider these things impartially, and be cautious of aspersing 
 the character, and disturbing the happiness, of those who may, 
 probably, deserve thanks rather than ill usage ; whose office 
 is at best full of care and anxiety ; and, when it is interrupted 
 by the injudicious interference or complaints of the parents, 
 becomes intolerably burdensome. 
 
 4. If a father suspect his confidence to have been mis- 
 placed, it is best to withdraw it immediately, without alter- 
 cation and without reproaches. I have often heard old and 
 experienced instructers declare, that the whole business of 
 managing a large school, and training pupils to learning and 
 virtue, was nothing in comparison with the trouble which 
 was given by whimsical, ignorant and discontented parents. 
 
 # Pronounced ex-ad'jer-a-ted. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 13 
 
 A Parable against Religious Persecution. 
 
 xtLND it came to pass, after these things, that Abraham 
 sat at the door of his tent, about the going down of the 
 sun. And, behold, a man, bent with age, coming from the 
 way of the wilderness, leaning on a staff! And Abraham 
 arose, met him, and said unto him, Turn in, I pray thee, and 
 wash thy feet, and tarry all night, and thou shalt arise early 
 in the morning, and go on thy way. 
 
 2. And the man said, Nay, for I will abide under this 
 tree. But Abraham pressed him greatly; so he turned, 
 and they went into the tent. And Abraham baked unleav- 
 ened bread, and they did eat. And when Abraham saw 
 that the man blessed not God, he said unto him, Wherefore 
 dost thou not worship the most high God, Creator of heav- 
 en and earth? 
 
 3. And the man answered and said, I worship the God 
 of my fathers in the way which they have appointed. And 
 Abraham's zeal was kindled against the man, and he arose, 
 and fell upon him, and drove him forth with blows into the 
 wilderness. And God called % unto Abraham, saying, Abra- 
 ham, where is the stranger ? 
 
 4. And Abraham answered and said, Lord, he would not 
 worship thee, neither* would he call upon thy name ; there- 
 fore have I driven him out before my face into the wilder- 
 ness. And God said, Have I borne with him these hun- 
 dred and ninety years, and nourished him, and clothed 
 him, notwithstanding his rebellion against me, and couldst 
 not thou, who art thyself a sinner, bear with him one 
 night? 
 
 5. And Abraham said, Let not the anger of my Lord wax 
 hot against his servant ; lo, I have sinned ; forgive me, I 
 pray thee. And Abraham arose, and went forth into the 
 wilderness, and sought diligently for the man, and found 
 him, and returned with him to the tent ; and when he had 
 treated him kindly, he sent him away on the morrow with 
 gifts. 
 
 2 
 
14 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 The History of Joseph, abridged. 
 
 J.SRAEL loved Joseph more than all his children, be- 
 cause he was the son of his old age ; and he gave him a coat 
 of many colours. But when his brethren saw their father's 
 partiality to him, they hated him, and would not speak 
 peaceably unto him. And Joseph dreamed a dream, and he 
 told it to his brethren. 
 
 2. Behold, he said, we were binding sheaves in the field ; 
 and, lo, my sheaf arose, and stood upright, and your sheaves 
 stood round about, and made obeisance to my sheaf. And 
 his brethren said unto him, Shalt thou indeed have dominion 
 over us ? and they hated him the more for his dreams and 
 for his words. 
 
 3. It happened that his brethren went to feed their fa- 
 ther's flock at Dothan. And Joseph went after his breth- 
 ren ; but, when they saw him afar off, they conspired 
 against him to slay him; and they said one to another, 
 We will tell our father that some evil beast hath devoured 
 him. 
 
 4. But Reuben wished to deliver him out of their hands ; 
 and he said, Let us not kill him, but cast him into this 
 pit, that is in the wilderness. And they followed his coun- 
 sel, and cast him kito the pit, which then contained no water. 
 
 5. A company of Ishmaelites from Gilead passed by at 
 this time, with their camels, bearing spicery, balm and 
 myrrh, which they were carrying into Egypt. And Judah 
 said unto his brethren, Let us sell Joseph to the Ishmael- 
 ites, and let not our hands be upon him, for he is our broth- 
 er and our flesh. And Joseph was sold for twenty pieces 
 of si lv er. 
 
 6. And his brethren killed a kid, and dipped his coat in 
 the blood thereof. And they brought it to their father, and 
 said, This have we found. And Jacob knew it; and, believ- 
 ing that Joseph was devoured by an evil beast, he rent his 
 clothes, and put sackcloth on his loins, and refused all com- 
 fort, saying, I will go down into the. grave to my son, mourn- 
 ing. 
 
 7. Thus wept his father for him. But Joseph was car- 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. . 15 
 
 vied into Egypt, and sold to Pot'iphar, the captain of Pha'- 
 ra-oh's guard. And the Lord was with him, and prospered 
 him ; and he found favour in the sight of his master. But, 
 by the wickedness of Potiphar's wife, he was cast into the 
 prison, where the king's prisoners were bound. 
 
 8. Here, also, the Lord continued to show him mercy, and 
 gave him favour in the sight of the keeper of the prison. 
 And all the prisoners were committed to his care ; amongst 
 whom were two of Pharaoh's officers, the chief of the but- 
 lers, and the chief of the bakers. 
 
 9. And Joseph interpreted the dreams of the king's ser- 
 vants ; and, his interpretation being true, the chief butler 
 recommended him to Pharaoh, who had dreamed a dream, 
 which Joseph thus showed unto him : Behold, there shall 
 come seven years of great plenty throughout all the land 
 of Egypt ; and there shall arise after them seven years of 
 famine ; and all the plenty shall be forgotten in the land of 
 Egypt, and the famine shall consume the land. 
 
 10. And the king said unto Joseph, Forasmuch as God 
 hath shown you all this, thou shalt be over mine house ; and 
 according to thy word shall all my people be ruled. And 
 Joseph gathered up all the food of the seven years, and laid 
 up the food in the store-houses. Then the seven years of 
 dearth began to come, as Joseph had foretold. 
 
 11. But in all the land of Egypt there was bread ; and 
 people from all countries came unto Joseph to buy corn, 
 because the famine was sore in all the lands. Now amongst 
 those who came, were the ten sons of Jacob, from the land 
 ef Ca'-naan. 
 
 12. And Joseph saw his brethren, and he knew them, but 
 made himself strange unto them, and spake roughly to them, 
 saying, Ye are spies. And they said, Thy servants are 
 twelve brethren, the sons of one man in the land of Ca- 
 naan; and, behold, the youngest is this day with our father, 
 and one is not. 
 
 13. But Joseph said unto them, Ye shall not go forth 
 hence except your youngest brother come hither. Let one 
 of your brethren be bound in prison, and go ye to carry 
 corn for the famine of your houses, and bring your youngest 
 brother unto me. 
 
 14. And their consciences reproached them; and they 
 
16 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 said one to another, We are verily guilty concerning our 
 brother, in that we saw the anguish of his soul, when he 
 besought us, and we would not hear. Therefore is this dis- 
 tress come upon us. 
 
 15. And they knew not that Joseph understood them, for 
 he spake unto them by an interpreter. And he turned him- 
 self about from them, and wept; and returned to them 
 again, and communed with them; and took from them Sim- 
 eon, and bound him before their eyes And they returned 
 unto Jacob, their father, in the land of Canaan, and told him 
 all that had befallen them. 
 
 16. And Jacob, their father, said unto them, Me ye have 
 bereaved of my children. Joseph is not, and Simeon is not, 
 and ye will take Benjamin away also. But my son shall 
 not go down with you ; for his brother is dead, and he is 
 left alone. If mischief befall him in the way in which ye 
 go, then shall ye bring down my gray hairs with sorrow to 
 the grave. 
 
 17. But the famine continued sore in the land; and when 
 they had eaten up the corn which they had brought but of 
 Egypt, Jacob said unto them, Go again, and buy us food. 
 And, if it must be so, now take also your brother Benja- 
 min, and arise, and go unto the man. And they brought 
 presents unto Joseph, and bowed themselves to bim to 
 the earth. 
 
 18. And he asked them of their welfare, and said, Is 
 your father well ? Is he alive 1 And he lifted up his eyes, 
 and saw Benjamin his brother; and he was moved with 
 compassion ; and he sought where to weep ; and he entered 
 his chamber, and wept there. And he washed his face, and 
 went out, and refrained himself. 
 
 19. Then he commanded the steward of his house, say- 
 ing, Fill the men's sacks with food, as much as they can 
 carry, and put my cup, the silver cup, into the sack of Ben- 
 jamin, the youngest. And the steward did according to the 
 word that Joseph had spoken. As soon as the morning was 
 light, the men were sent away, they and their asses. 
 
 20. But Joseph commanded his steward to follow them, 
 and to search their sacks, and to bring them back. A.nd 
 when Judah and his brethren were returned into the city, 
 Joseph said unto them, What deed is this ye have done ? 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. il 
 
 the man in whose hands the cup is found shall be my ser- 
 vant : and as for you, get you in peace unto your father. 
 
 21. But they said, Our father will surely die, if he seeth 
 that the lad is not with us ; and we shall bring down the 
 gray hairs of thy servant, our father, with sorrow to the 
 grave. Then Joseph could not refrain himself before all 
 them that stood by him ; and he cried, Cause every man to 
 go out from me ; and there stood no man with him whilst 
 Joseph made himself known unto his brethren. 
 
 22. And he wept aloud, and said unto his brethren, I am 
 Joseph ; doth my father yet live ? and his brethren could 
 not answer him, for they were troubled at his presence. 
 And Joseph said unto his brethren, Come near to me, I pray 
 you ; and they came near. And he said, I am Joseph, your 
 brother, whom ye sold into Egypt. 
 
 23. Now, therefore, be not grieved, nor angry with your- 
 selves, that ye sold me hither ; for God did send me before 
 you to save your lives by a great deliverance. Haste you, 
 and go up to my father, and say unto him, Thus saith thy 
 son Joseph, God hath made me lord over all Egypt. Come 
 down unto me ; tarry not. 
 
 24. And thou shalt dwell in the land of Goshen ; and 
 thou shalt be near unto me, thou, and thy children, and thy 
 children's children, and thy flocks, and thy herds, and all 
 that thou hast. And there will I nourish thee ; for yet thare 
 are five years of famine ; lest thou, and thy household, and 
 all that thou hast, come to poverty. 
 
 25. And, behold, your eyes see, and the eyes of my broth- 
 er Benjamin, that it is my mouth which speaketh unto you. 
 And you shall tell my father of all my glory in Egypt, and 
 all which you have seen ; and ye shall haste, and bring down 
 my father hither. 
 
 26. And he fell upon his brother Benjamin's neck, and 
 wept ; and Benjamin wept upon his neck. Moreover, he 
 kissed all his brethren, and wept upon them ; and, after that, 
 his brethren talked with him. And the fame thereof was 
 heard in Pharaoh's house ; and it pleased Pharaoh well, 
 and his servants. 
 
 27. And Pharaoh said unto Joseph, Invite hither thy fa- 
 ther and his household ; and I will give them the good of 
 the land of Egypt ; and they shall eat the fat of the land. 
 
 2* 
 
18 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 28. And the spirit of Jacob was revived when he heard 
 these tidings ; and he said, My son is yet alive ; I will go 
 and see him before I die. And he took his journey, with 
 all that he had. And Joseph made ready his chariot, and 
 went up to meet Israel, his father, to Goshen ; and, present- 
 ing himself before him, he fell on his neck, and wept for 
 some time. 
 
 29. And Joseph placed his father, and his brethren, and 
 gave them possessions in the land of Egypt, in the best of 
 the land, as Pharaoh had commanded. 
 
 30. This interesting story contains a variety of affecting 
 incidents, is related with the most beautiful simplicity, and 
 furnishes many important lessons for instruction. 
 
 31. It displays the mischiefs of parental partiality ; the 
 fatal effects of envy, jealousy and discord amongst breth- 
 ren ; the blessings and honours with which virtue is reward- 
 ed ; the amiableness of forgetting injuries ; and the tender 
 joys which flow from fraternal love and filial piety. 
 
 On the Instinct of Animals. 
 
 HP 
 
 J- HE arguments for Providence, drawn from the natural 
 
 history of animals, are, in my opinion, demonstrative. The 
 make of every kind of animal is different from that of every 
 other kind, and yet there is not the least turn in the mus- 
 cles, or twist in the fibres of any one, which does not ren- 
 der them more proper for that particular animal's way of 
 life than any other texture would have been. 
 
 2. It is astonishing to consider the different degrees of 
 care that are shown by parents to their young, only so far as 
 is necessary for leaving a posterity. Some creatures cast 
 their eggs as chance directs them, and think of them no 
 further ; as insects and several kinds of fish. 
 
 3. Others, of a nicer frame, find out proper beds to de- 
 posite them in, and there leave them ; as the serpent, the 
 crocodile, and ostrich : others hatch their eggs, and tend 
 the birth, until the little one is able to shift for itself. What 
 can we call the principle, which directs each different kind 
 of bird to observe a particular plan in the structure of its 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 10 
 
 nest, and directs all of the same species to work after the 
 same model ? 
 
 4. It cannot be imitation ; for though you hatch a crow 
 under a hen, and never let it see any of the works of its 
 own kind, the nest it makes will be the same, to the laying 
 of a stick, with all the nests of the same species. It cannot 
 be reason ; for were* animals endued with it to as great a 
 degree as man, their buildings would be as different as ours, 
 as their conveniences might require. 
 
 5. It is net remarkable that the same temperature of 
 weather, which raises this general warmth in animals, should 
 cover the trees with leaves and the fields witth grass for 
 their security and concealment, and produce such infinite 
 swarms of such creatures as aret the support and sustenance 
 of others. 
 
 6. But, notwithstanding that natural love in brutes is much 
 more violent than in rational creatures, providence has taken 
 care that it should be no longer troublesome to the parents, 
 than it is useful to the young ; for, so soon as the wants of 
 the latter cease, the mother withdraws her fondness, and 
 leaves them to provide for themselves. 
 
 7. And, what is a very remarkable circumstance, we 
 find that the love of the parent may be lengthened out 
 beyond its usual time, if the preservation of the species re- 
 quires it; as we may see in birds, who drive away their 
 young as soon as they are able to get their livelihood, but 
 continue to feed them if they are tied to the nest, or confin- 
 ed within a cage. 
 
 8. This natural love is not observed in animals to ascend 
 from the young to the parent, which is not at all necessary 
 for the continuance of the species. Take a brute out of his 
 instinct, and you find him wholly deprived of understanding. 
 We will give an instance which comes under the observation 
 of every one, and will show the distinction between reason 
 and instinct. 
 
 9. With what caution does the hen provide herself a nest 
 in places free from noise and disturbance ! When she has 
 laid her eggs in such a manner that she can cover them, 
 what care does she take in turning them frequently, that all 
 parts may partake of the vital warmth I 
 
 * Pronounced wer. f ar. 
 
20 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 10. When she leaves them, to provide for her necessary 
 sustenance, how punctually does she return before they 
 have time to cool, and become incapable of producing an 
 animal ! In the summer, you see her giving herself greater 
 freedoms, and quitting her care for above two hours to- 
 gether ; but in winter, when the cold would chill the princi- 
 ple of life, she is more constant in her attendance, and stays 
 away but half the time. 
 
 11. When the birth approaches, with how much nicety 
 and attention does she help the chick to break its prison ! 
 How does she cover it from the weather, provide it proper 
 nourishment, and teach it to help itself, not to mention her 
 forsaking the nest, if, after the usual time of sitting, the 
 young one does not make its appearance ! 
 
 12. But, at the same time, the hen, with all this seeming 
 ingenuity, is, considered in other respects, without the least 
 glimmerings of thought or common sense. She mistakes a 
 piece of chalk for an egg } and sits upon it in the same man- 
 ner; and she is insensible of any increase or diminution in 
 the number of those she lays. 
 
 13. She even does not distinguish between her own and 
 those of another species ; and, when the birth of ever so dif- 
 ferent a bird appears, she will cherish it as her own. In all 
 these circumstances, which do not carry an immediate re- 
 gard to the subsistence of herself or her species, she is a 
 very idiot. 
 
 14. There is not, in my opinion, any thing more myste- 
 rious in nature than this instinct in animals, which thus 
 rises above reason, and falls very far short of it. It cannot 
 be accounted for by any properties in matter, and, at the 
 same time, works after so odd a manner, that one cannot 
 think it the faculty of an intellectual being. 
 
 15. For my own part, I look upon it as upon the princi- 
 ple of gravitation in bodies, which is not to be explained by 
 any known qualities inherent in the bodies themselves, nor 
 by any laws of mechanism, but, according to the best notions 
 of the greatest philosophers, is an immediate impression 
 from the first Mover, and the divine energy acting in the 
 creatures. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 21 
 
 Ingenious Villany finally punished. 
 
 A STRANGER, well mounted, and attended by a ser- 
 vant in rich livery, entered a market town in Somersetshire, 
 where the court was then sitting, and, having put up at one 
 of the principal inns, inquired of the landlord as to the cu- 
 riosities and amusements of the place. 
 
 2. The landlord, who was extremely well qualified to an- 
 swer these inquiries, answered, with a low bow, that there 
 was no want of entertainment, as the players were in town, 
 and the court sitting, accompanying his remarks with a rec- 
 ommendation that the gentleman should by all means go 
 to hear the trial that morning, as a highwayman was to be 
 brought up. 
 
 3. The stranger made some objection to this invitation, 
 upon the ground of his being unknown, and the little chance 
 he stood of being properly accommodated. This difficulty 
 was, however, removed by the landlord's assuring him 
 that a gentleman of his appearance would be readily ad- 
 mitted. 
 
 4. Indeed, to make it more certain, he attended him to 
 the court-house, and represented him in such a way to his 
 friends, the constables, that he obtained a seat at a little dis- 
 tance from the judge. The appearance of the stranger, who 
 was of elegant person and polished manners, arrested for a 
 moment the attention of the court. 
 
 5. The witnesses were not numerous, and the evidence 
 was only circumstantial ; but, although no person saw the 
 atrocious murder and robbery committed, yet the circum- 
 stances which fixed the guilt upon the prisoner were very 
 numerous, and his being unable to give any satisfactory ac- 
 count of himself increased the suspicion. The judge, then, 
 for the last time, asked the prisoner if he had any thing to 
 say in his defence. 
 
 6. The poor culprit assured the judge that he was not 
 guilty of the robbery, and there were people, if he had 
 time to find them, who could prove that, at the time it was 
 committed, he was in another part of the country. At this 
 
22 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 moment, the poor wretch happened to catch sight of the 
 stranger, and fell backwards on the floor. 
 
 7. He was, however, with some difficulty recovered, 
 when the judge humanely inquired into the cause of his ex- 
 travagant behaviour. The poor wretch exclaimed, with tears 
 in his eyes, O my lord, how providential ! for that gentleman, 
 on your left hand, can prove I was not present when the 
 robbery was done. 
 
 8. Pray, sir, said the judge, addressing the stranger, do 
 you know any thing of this man ? Upon this, the traveller 
 surveyed the criminal with the most scrupulous attention, 
 and then said, I am very sorry to assure your lordship that 
 I do not know the prisoner. I thought as much, replied the 
 judge; it is mere trifling with justice. 
 
 9. The prisoner, however, still insisted that the stran- 
 ger knew him, and the stranger again as positively denied 
 the assertion, till the judge, displeased at the criminal's pre- 
 sumption, was about to receive the verdict of the jury. The 
 poor culprit on his knees entreated permission to say one 
 word. 
 
 10. Indeed, my lord, cried he, the gentleman does know 
 me, although he may have forgotten my person. Only give 
 me leave to ask him three questions, and it will save my life. 
 The judge humanely consented, and the curiosity of all the 
 spectators was strongly excited. 
 
 11. Pray, sir, said the prisoner, addressing the stranger, 
 did not you land at Dover about three months since 1 I be- 
 lieve I might, replied the gentleman. And pray, sir, do 
 you not recollect that a man, in a sailor's jacket, carried 
 your trunk from the beach to the tavern? I cannot say that 
 I remember it, returned the stranger, but it might possibly 
 bq so. 
 
 12. At these words, the prisoner, not disheartened at the 
 difficulties he had met with, pulled off his wig, and again 
 interrogated the stranger. Do you not remember, sir, that 
 the man who carried your trunk on that day showed you a 
 scar he had got on his head, in fighting for his king and 
 country 1 This is the same scar ; look at it. 
 
 13. The stranger was astonished. I do, indeed, perfect- 
 ly remember the circumstance, said he, and have every 
 reason to believe this to be the man, although I had forgot- 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 23 
 
 ten his face ; but, my lord, added the stranger, I can deter- 
 mine the question to a certainty, for I have a memorandum 
 of the day I arrived at Dover from Calais. 
 
 14. The date was compared with the day mentioned in 
 the indictment, and found to be the same. The whole court 
 felt the impression, and joy was visible in every face ; when, 
 after swearing and examining the gentleman as to his name 
 and place of abode, the foreman of the jury pronounced the 
 verdict of not guilty. 
 
 15. A few evenings only had elapsed, when the prisoner, 
 the stranger, and his livery servant, were all taken up on 
 the road, in their original capacities of experienced high- 
 waymen ; and, the circumstances of the above imposition 
 being recollected, they were easily convicted, and all three 
 executed together. 
 
 The Child trained up for the Gallows. 
 
 AS any father so unnatural as to wish to have his son 
 hanged, let him bring him up in idleness, and without put- 
 ting him to any trade. Let him particularly inure him to 
 spend the Lord's day in play and diversion, instead of at- 
 tending on public worship; and, instead of instructing him, 
 on that day, in the principles of the Christian religion, let 
 him rob a neighbouring hen-roost, while the proprietor of it 
 is gone to divine service. 
 
 2. Astonishing it is to see so many of our young people 
 growing up without being apprenticed to any business for 
 procuring their future livelihood ! The Jews had a proverb, 
 " That whoever was not bred to a trade, was bred for the 
 gallows." Every Mussulman is commanded by the Koran 
 to learn some handicraft or other ; and to this precept even 
 the family of the Grand Seignior so far conform, as to learn 
 so much about the mechanism of a watch, as to be able to 
 take it in pieces, and to put it together again. 
 
 3. Are Christians the only people in the w r orld who are 
 to live in idleness, when one of fiie injunctions of the dec- 
 alogue is, to labour six days in the week ? and an inspired 
 
24 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 apostle has commanded us to work, under the express pen- 
 alty of not eating in default of it? " This we comman3ed 
 you," says he, " that if any would not work, neither should 
 he eat." " Train up a child,", says king Solomon, " in the 
 way he should go ; and, when he is old, he will not depart 
 from it." 
 
 4. But if you intend him for the gallows, train him up 
 in the way he would go ; and, before he is old, he will prob- 
 ably be hanged. In the age of vanity, restrain him not from 
 the follies and allurements of it. In the age proper for 
 learning and instruction, give him neither. As to catechis- 
 ing him, it is an old-fashioned, puritanical, useless, formality. 
 Never heed it, lest his mind be unhappily biased by the 
 influence of a religious education. 
 
 5. Moses, indeed, after saying to the children of Israel, 
 " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and 
 with all thy soul, and with all thy might," thought proper 
 to subjoin, " and those words which I command thee this 
 day, thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy children." 
 But we know that Moses did not intend those children to be 
 trained up for the gallows. His advice, therefore, is not to 
 the purpose. 
 
 6. Mine, which is immediately directed to the object in 
 view, must consequently be very different. And, paramount 
 to any other direction which I can possibly give, I would 
 particularly advise, as an essential part of the course of this 
 education, by which a child, when he arrives to manhood, 
 is intended to make so exalted a figure, that his parents 
 should suffer him, every Sabbath day, during summer and 
 autumn, to patrol about the neighbourhood, and to steal as 
 much fruit as he can carry off. 
 
 7. To encourage him more in this branch of his educa- 
 tion, in case the poor, scrupulous lad should show any com- 
 punctions of conscience about it, I would have his mother 
 partake of the stolen fruit, and eat it with keener appetite 
 than she does any of her own, or her husband's lawfully 
 acquired earnings. For his further encouragement, both 
 his parents should always take his part, whenever the pro- 
 prietor of the stolen fruit prefers to them his complaint 
 against him ; and, by all means, refuse to chastise him for 
 his thievery. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR, 25 
 
 8. They should say, " Where is the harm of taking a 
 little fruit 1 The gentleman does not want it all for his own 
 use. He doubtless raised part of it for poor people." This 
 will greatly smooth his way to more extensive and more 
 profitable robberies. 
 
 9. He will soon persuade himself, that many rich men 
 have more wealth than they really want ; and, as they owe 
 part of their affluence to the poor, upon the principle of 
 charity, why should not the poor take their share without 
 the formality of asking consent'? He will now become a 
 thief in good earnest ; and finding it easier, at least as he 
 imagines, to support himself by theft, than by honest indus- 
 try, he will continue the practice until he is detected, appre- 
 hended, convicted, condemned and gibbeted. 
 
 10. Then he will have exactly accomplished the destined 
 end of his education, and proved himself to have been an 
 apt scholar. Under the gallows, and in his last, dying speech, 
 he will say, " Had my father whipped me for breaking the 
 Sabbath ; and had not my mother encouraged me to rob 
 orchards, and gardens and hen-roosts on that holy day, I 
 should not have been brought to this ignominious punish- 
 ment. 
 
 11. " But they have been the cause, by encouraging me 
 in my early youth in the ways of sin, of this my awful catas- 
 trophe, an-d, probably, of the eternal ruin of my immortal 
 soul." Parents, believe and tremble ! and resolve to edu- 
 cate your children in opposition to the gallows 
 
 Sketch of Jerusalem and Palestine. 
 
 jl ALESTINE, or Holy Land, is a tract of country bor- 
 dering on the east end of the Mediterranean Sea, and is cel- 
 ebrated as the residence of the Hebrews, who, in_ an early 
 period, were conducted thither from Egypt, where they had 
 been slaves. To Moses, their leader, who is the oldest his- 
 torian whose writings have been preserved, we are indebted, 
 not only for their early history, but for the history of the 
 creation and first settlement of the world itself. 
 3 
 
2§ THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 2. Previously to the invasion of the Hebrews, Palestine 
 was inhabited by numerous independent tribes, many of 
 whom were exterminated by the conquerors, but some of 
 which kept up a constant warfare, and maintained their in-' 
 dependence until they were all subjected to the Romans, 
 who finally subjugated the civilized world. 
 
 3. The character of the Hebrews was peculiar ; for their 
 laws and institutions were calculated to keep them a dis- 
 tinct people, and they maintained the knowledge of the true 
 God, when all other nations were idolaters. Their territory 
 was extremely limited, their situation almost entirely inland, 
 the sea-coast being inhabited by the Phoenicians ; and yet 
 they often repulsed the most formidable invaders, vanquish- 
 ed the surrounding nation^, and were seldom destitute of 
 able kings and learned historians. 
 
 4. Several years before the death of Jesus Christ, they 
 had become a province of the Roman empire ; but their re- 
 peated attempts to throw off the yoke of bondage at last 
 provoked the Roman emperor to destroy the city and tem- 
 ple of Jerusalem, and to scatter their nation over the earth, 
 
 5. These events, which had been predicted by the Mes- 
 siah, whom the Jews had crucified several years before, 
 were attended with circumstances the most dreadful which 
 history records. Whilst the wkole 'nation were assembled 
 at Jerusalem, as was their custom, to 'celebrate the feast of 
 the Passover, the Roman emperor surrounded the city with 
 his legions, determining at one blow to crush the rebellion. 
 
 6. The bravery and obstinacy of the besieged was only 
 equalled by that of the besiegers. The sallies were frequent 
 and the slaughter dreadful, while the dissensions of the Jews 
 increased the horrour of their situation. At last, famine, 
 more dreadful than the enemy, carried off thousands of the 
 wretched inhabitants. 
 
 7. Josephus, a Jewish historian, in relating the sufferings 
 of his nation by this famine, mentions the case of a woman 
 who was reduced to the dreadful necessity of killing and 
 eating her own child ; the rapacity of the starving soldiers, 
 however, even envied her this dreadful supply. 
 
 8. The city being finally taken, a soldier set fire to the 
 temple, and the conflagration of so vast an edifice led those 
 who beheld it at a distance to suppose the whole city was 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 27 
 
 on fire. The number of those who perished in this siege 
 was about eleven hundred thousand : the remnant were car- 
 ried away captive, and have ever since been scattered over 
 the world. 
 
 9. Notwithstanding the dispersion of the Jews amongst 
 other nations, and the persecutions which have every where 
 followed them, they have, to a remarkable degree, preserv- 
 ed their national character and religion, and, to the number 
 of many millions, are still looking for another deliverer, 
 who shall restore them to their country ; thus fulfilling the 
 prediction of the very Messiah whom they have obstinately 
 rejected. 
 
 10. After the destruction of the temple, a considerable 
 number of the Christians were suffered to remain in the 
 Holy City ; and, at the end of the third century, the empe- 
 ror Constantine, who had embraced the Christian faith, or- 
 dered the rubbish, which had been thrown upon those places 
 where our Saviour had suffered, to be removed, and a mag- 
 nificent church erected over the spot. 
 
 11. Not long afterwards, the emperor Julian, assisted by 
 the Jews, determined to rebuild their temple, which proph- 
 ecy had declared should be destroyed, without one stone 
 being left upon another. But he never completed the work, 
 in consequence of earthquakes, fiery eruptions, and other 
 extraordinary events, which destroyed their materials, and 
 killed many of their workmen. 
 
 12. Upon the decline of the Roman empire, the Sara- 
 cens made continual inroads upon the Asiatick provinces, 
 and finally obtained possession of Jerusalem ; and the at- 
 tempts to rescue the Holy City from the hands of infidels 
 gave rise* to what are commonly called the crusades 7 . At 
 the supposed call of religion, millions of fanat'icks assem- 
 bled from every part of Christendom, and embarked for Pal- 
 estine. 
 
 13. Their efforts were not entirely unsuccessful, for they 
 finally expelled the Saracens, and retained possession about 
 a century. But of all those who engaged in these expedi- 
 tions, a very small number ever returned home ; the greater 
 part dying with fatigue and disease, or falling in the bloody 
 battles which were fought with the infidels. 
 
 * Pronounced rize. 
 
28 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 14. Judea is still a fertile country, and Jerusalem has the 
 appearance of a splendid city, although it has so often 
 changed masters, and suffered so many sieges. " We were 
 not prepared," says a late celebrated traveller, " for the 
 grandeur of the spectacle which the city alone exhib- 
 ited. 
 
 15. "Instead of a wretched and ruined town, by some de- 
 scribed as the desolated remnant of Jerusalem, we beheld as 
 it were a flourishing and stately metropolis, presenting a 
 magnificent assemblage of domes, towers, palaces, churches, 
 and monasteries. As we drew nearer, our whole atten- 
 tion was engrossed by its noble and interesting appear- 
 ance. 
 
 16. " There is much, 55 he continues, " to be seen at Jeru- 
 salem, independently of its monks and monasteries, much 
 to repay pilgrims, of a very different description from those 
 who usually resort thither, for all the fatigue and danger 
 they must encounter. 
 
 17. " At the same time, to men interested in tracing the 
 antiquities referred to by the documents of sacred history, 
 no spectacle can be more mortifying than the city in its 
 present state ; for the mistaken piety of the early Christians, 
 in attempting to preserve, either confused or annihilated the 
 memorials it endeavoured to perpetuate. 
 
 18. " Viewing the city from the mount of Olives, the most 
 conspicuous object is the mosque erected upon the site and 
 foundations of .Solomon's, temple. The sight was so grand, 
 that we did not hesitate in pronouncing it the most magnifi- 
 cent piece of architecture in the Turkish empire." 
 
 19. The buildings erected by the superstition or venera- 
 tion of the different sects of Christians are fast decaying ; 
 and the donations of the few pilgrims who resort thither 
 are hardly sufficient to maintain the few priests who have 
 the care of the sacred edifices, and are oppressed by the 
 Turks, to whom they are obliged to pay an enormous trib- 
 ute for even the little freedom which they are permitted to 
 enjoy. 
 
THE AxMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 29 
 
 The faithful American Dog, 
 
 An officer in the late American army, on his station at 
 the westward, went out in the morning with his dog and 
 gun, in quest of game. Venturing too far from the garrison, 
 he was fired upon by an Indian, who was lurking in the 
 bushes, and instantly fell to the ground. 
 
 2. The Indian, running to him, struck him on the head 
 with his tomahawk, in order to despatch him ; but, the but- 
 ton of his hat fortunately warding off the edge, he was only 
 stunned by the blow. With savage brutality, he applied the 
 scalping knife, and hastened away -with this tro'phy of his 
 horrid cruelty, leaving the officer for dead, and none* to re- 
 lieve or console him, but his faithful dog. 
 
 3. The afflicted creature gave every expression of his 
 attachment, fidelity and affection. He licked the wounds 
 with inexpressible tenderness, and mourned the fate of his 
 beloved master. Having performed every office which sym- 
 pathy dictated, or sagacity could invent, without being able 
 to remove his master from the fatal spot, or procure from 
 him any signs of life, or his wontedf expressions of affection 
 to him, he ran off in quest of help. 
 
 4. Bending his course tow r ards the river, where two men 
 were fishing, he urged them, with all the powers of native 
 rhetori ck, to accompany him to the woods. The men were 
 suspicious of a decoy to an ambuscade, and dared not ven- 
 ture to follow the dog ; who, finding all his caresses fail, re- 
 turned to the care of his master, and, licking his wounds a 
 second time, renewed all his tenderness ; but with no better 
 success than before. 
 
 5. Again he returned to the men, once more to try his 
 skill in alluring them to his assistance. In this attempt he 
 was more successful than in the other. The men, seeing 
 his solicitude, began to think the dog might have discovered 
 some valuable game, and determined to hazard the conse- 
 quences of following him. 
 
 6. Transported with his success, the affectionate creature 
 hurried them along by every expression of ardour. Pres- 
 ently they arrive at the spot, where, behold ! — an officer 
 
 * Pronounced nun. f icunt'ed. 
 
 a* 
 
;*0 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 wounded, scalped, weltering in his own gore, and faint witH 
 the loss of blood. 
 
 7. Suffice* it to say, he was yet alive. They carried him 
 to the fort, where the first dressings were performed. A 
 suppuration immediately took place, and he was soon con- 
 veyed to the hospital at Albany, where, in a few weeks, he 
 entirely recovered, and was able to return to his duty. 
 
 8. This worthy officer owed his life, probably, to the 
 fidelity of this sagacious dog. His tongue, which the gen- 
 tleman afterwards declared gave him the most exquisite 
 pleasure, clarified the wound in the most effectual manner, 
 and his perseverance brought that assistance, without which 
 he must soon have perished. 
 
 The Miller of Mansfield. 
 
 Enter the king alone, wrapped in a cloak. 
 
 King. 1 * O, no ; this can be no publick road, that's cer- 
 tain. I have lost my way undoubtedly. Of what advantage 
 is it now to be a king? Night shows me no respect; I can 
 neither see better, nor walk so well as another man. When 
 a king is lost in a wood, what is he more than other men ? 
 His wisdom knows not which is north, and which is south ; 
 his power a beggar's dog would bark at, and the beggar 
 himself would not bow to his greatness. And yet how often 
 are we puffed up with these false attributes! Well, in losing 
 the monarch, I have found the man. But hark ! somebody 
 is near. What were it best to do? Will my majesty pro- 
 tect me ? No. Throw majesty aside then, and let manhood 
 
 do it. 
 
 Enter the miller. 
 
 Miller. I believe I hear the rogue. Who's there ? 
 
 King. No rogue, I assure you. 
 
 Miller. Little better, friend, I believe. Who fired that 
 gun? 
 
 King. Not I, indeed. , 
 Miller. You lie, I believe. 
 
 * Pronounced mf-fizt. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. ?>V 
 
 King. {Aside.) Lie ! lie ! how strange it seems to me to be 
 talked to in this style. [Aloud.) Upon my word, I do not, sir. 
 
 Miller. Come, come, Sirrah,* confess ; you have shot one 
 of the king's deer, haven't you ? 
 
 King. No, indeed ; I owe the king more respect. I heard a 
 gun go off, to be sure, and was afraid some robbers were near. 
 
 Miller. I am not bound to believe this, friend. Pray who 
 are you ? What's your iKime ? 
 
 King. Name ! 
 
 Miller. Name ! aye, name. You have a name, haven't 
 you 1 Where do you come from, and what, business Lave 
 you here ? 
 
 King. These are questions I have not been used to, hon- 
 est man. 
 
 Miller. May be so, but they are questions no honest man 
 would be afraid to answer. So, if you can give no better 
 account of yourself, I shall make bold to take you along 
 with me till you can. 
 
 King. With you ! What authority have you to — 
 
 Miller. The king's, if I must give you an account. Sir, 
 I am John Cockle, the ml ] ier of Mansfield, one of his maj- 
 esty's keepers in the forest of Sherwood ; and I will let no 
 suspected person pass this way, unless he can give u better 
 account of himself than you have done, I promise you. 
 
 King. Very well, sir ; I am glad to hear the king has so 
 good an officer ; and, since I find you have his authority, I 
 will give you a better account of myself, if you will do me 
 the favour to hear it. 
 
 Miller. You don't deserve it, I believe: but let's hear 
 what you can say for yourself. 
 
 King. I have the honour to belong to the king as well as 
 you, and perhaps should be as unwilling to see any wrong 
 done him. I came down with him to hunt in this forest, 
 and, the chase leading us to-day a great way from home, I 
 am benighted in this wood, and have lost my way. 
 
 Miller. This does not sound well ; if you have been hunt* 
 ing, pray where is your horse 1 
 
 King. I have tired my horse, so that he lay down undet 
 me, and I was obliged to leave him. 
 
 Wilier. If I thought I might believe this now — 
 
 * Pronounced Bar-rah' '. 
 
32 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 King. I am not used to'lie, honest man. 
 
 Miller. What, live at court and not lie ? that's a likely 
 story, indeed ! 
 
 King. Be that as it will, I speak the truth now, I assure 
 you ; and, to convince you of it, if you will attend me to 
 Nottingham, or give me a night's lodging in your house, here 
 is something to pay you for your trouble, {offering money,) 
 and, if that is not sufficient, I will satisfy you in the morn- 
 ing to your utmost desire. 
 
 Miller. Aye, aye ; now I am convinced you are a court- 
 ier ;* here is a little bribe for to-day, and a large promise 
 for to-morrow, both in one breath. Here, take it again ; 
 John Cockle is no courtier. He can do what is right with- 
 out a bribe. 
 
 King. Thou art a very extraordinary man, I must own, 
 and I should be glad, methinks, to know more of thee. 
 
 Miller. Prithee don't thee and thou me at this rate. I 
 dare say I am as good a man as yourself, at least. 
 
 King. Sir, I beg pardon. 
 
 Miller. Nay, 1 am not angry, friend; only I don't love to 
 be too familiar with you, while your honesty is suspected. 
 
 King. You are right. But what else can I do to convince 
 you. 
 
 Miller. You may do what you please. It is twelve miles 
 to Nottingham, and all the way through this thick wood ; 
 but, if you are resolved upon going thither to-night, I will 
 put you in the road, and direct you as well as I can ; or, if 
 you will accept of such poor entertainment as a mille 1 * can 
 give, you shall be welcome to stay here till morning, and 
 then I will go with you myself. a 
 
 King. And cannot you go with me to-night ? 
 
 Miller. No, nst if you were the king himself. 
 
 King. Then I will go with you, I think. 
 Enter a courtier in haste. 
 
 Courtier. Is your majesty safe 1 We have hunted the for- 
 est over to find you. 
 
 Miller. How ! the king ! then I am undone. [Kneels.) 
 Your majesty will pardon the ill usage you have received. 
 ( The king draws his sword.) His majesty surely will not 
 kill a servant for doing his duty too faithfully. 
 
 * Pronounced korVyur. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 33 
 
 King. No, my good fellow. So far from having any 
 thing to pardon, I am much your debtor. I cannot think 
 but so good and honest a man will make a worthy and hon- 
 ourable knight. Rise up, Sir John Cockle, and receive this 
 sword as a badge of knighthood, and a pledge of my protec- 
 tion ; and, to support your nobility, and in some measure to 
 requite you for the pleasure you have done us, a thousand 
 crowns a year shall be your revenue. 
 
 Of Queen Mary and the Martyrs. 
 
 ITJ.ARY possessed few qualities either estimable or ami- 
 able. Her person was as little engaging as her manner. 
 And, amidst the complication of vices which entered into 
 her composition, obstinacy, bigotry, violence, cruelty, we 
 scarcely find any virtue but sincerity ; unless we add, vigour 
 of mind, a quality which seems to have been inherent in her 
 family. 
 
 2. During this queen's reign, persecution for religion was 
 carried to the most terrible height. The mild counsels of 
 cardinal Pole, who was inclined to toleration, were overrul- 
 ed by Gardner and Bonner ; and multitudes, of all condi- 
 tions, ages and sexes, were committed to the flames; 
 
 3. The persecutors began with Rogers, preb'endary of 
 St. Paul's, a man equally distinguished by his piety and 
 learning, but whose domestick situation, it was hoped, 
 would bring him to compliance. 
 
 4. He had a wife, whom he tenderly loved, and ten chil- 
 dren ; yet did he continue firm in his principles. And such 
 was his serenity after condemnation, that the jailers, it is said, 
 awaked him from a sound sleep, when the hour of his exe- 
 cution approached. He suffered at Smithfieid. 
 
 5. Hooper, bishop of Gloucester, was condemned at the 
 same time with Rogers, but was sent to his own diocess to 
 be punished, in order to strike the greater terrour into his 
 flock. His constancy at his death, however, had a very con- 
 trary effect. 
 
 6. It was a scene of consolation to Hooper to die in their 
 sight, bearing testimony to that doctrine which he had for- 
 merly taught among them. And he continued to exhort 
 
34 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 them, till his tongue, swollen by the violence of his agony, 
 denied him utterance. 
 
 7. Ferrar, bishop of St. David's, also suffered this terri- 
 ble punishment in his own diocess ; and Ridley, bishop of 
 London, and Latimer, formerly bishop of Worcester, two 
 prel'ates, venerable by their years, their learning and their 
 piety, perished together in the same fire at Oxford, support- 
 ing each other's constancy by their mutual exhortations. 
 
 8. Latimer, when tied to the stake, called to his compan- 
 ion, " Be of good cheer, my brother; we shall this day kin- 
 dle such a flame in England, as, I trust in God,, will never 
 be extinguished." 
 
 9. Sanders, a respectable clergyman, was committed to 
 the flames at Coventry. A pardon was offered him if he 
 would recant; but he rejected it with disdain, and embraced 
 the stake, saying, " Welcome, cross of Christ ! welcome, 
 everlasting life !" 
 
 10. Cranmer had less courage at first. Terrified by the 
 prospect of those tortures which awaited him, or overcome 
 by the fond love of life, and by the flattery of artful men, 
 who pompously represented the dignities to which his char- 
 acter still entitled him, if he would merit them by a recan- 
 tation, he agreed, in an unguarded hour, to subscribe to the 
 doctrines of the papal supremacy, and the real presence, 
 
 11. But the court, no less perfidious than cruel, deter- 
 mined that this recantation should avail him nothing; that 
 he should acknowledge his errours in the church, before the 
 people, and afterwards be led to execution. # 
 
 12. Whether Cranmer received secret intelligence of 
 their design, or repented of his weakness, or both, is uncer- 
 tain ; but he surprised the audience by a declaration very 
 different from what was expected. 
 
 13. After explaining his sense of what he owed to God 
 and his sovereign, " There is one miscarriage in my life," 
 said he, " of which, above all others, I severely repent; and 
 that is, the insincere declaration of faith, to which I had the 
 weakness to subscribe. 
 
 14. "■ But I take this opportunity of atoning for my errour, 
 by a sincere arid open recantation ; and am willing to seal 
 with my blood that doctrine, which I firmly believe, to be 
 communicated fromjieaven." 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 35 
 
 15. As his hand, he added, had erred, by betraying his 
 heart, it should first be punished by a severe, but just doom. 
 He accordingly stretched it out, as soon as he came to the 
 stake ; and without discovering, either by his looks or mo- 
 tions, the least sign of weakness, or even feeling, he held it 
 in the flames till it was entirely consumed. 
 
 16. His thoughts, to use the words of an elegant and 
 learned historian, appeared to be totally occupied in re- 
 flecting on his former faults ; and he called aloud several 
 times, " This hand has offended ; this wicked hand has of- 
 fended !" 
 
 17. When it dropped off, he discovered a serenity in his 
 countenance, as if satisfied with sacrificing to divine justice 
 the instrument of his crime. And, when the fire attacked 
 his body, his soul, totally collected within itself, seemed su- 
 periour to every external accident, and altogether inaccessi- 
 ble to pain. 
 
 Story of Logan, a Mingo Chief. 
 
 AN the spring of the year 1774, a robbery and murder 
 were committed on an inhabitant of the frontiers of Virginia, 
 by two Indians of the Shawanese tribe. The neighbouring 
 whites, according to their custom, undertook to punish this 
 outrage in a summary way. Colonel Cresap, a man infamous 
 for the many murders he had committed on those much 
 injured people, collected a party, and proceeded down the 
 river Kanhaway in quest of vengeance. 
 
 2. Unfortunately, a canoe of women and children, with 
 one man only, was seen coming from the opposite shore, un- 
 armed, and unsuspecting any hostile attack from the whites. 
 Cresap and his party concealed themselves on the bank of 
 the river, and, the moment the canoe reached the shore, 
 singled out their objects, and, at one fire, killed every per- 
 son in it. 
 
 3. This happened to be the family of Logan, who had 
 long beea distinguished as the friend of the whites. This 
 unworthy return provoked his vengeance. He, accordingly, 
 signalized himself in the war which ensued. 
 
36 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 4. In the autumn of the same year, a decisive battle was 
 fought at the mouth of the Great Kanhaway, between the 
 collected forces of the Shawanese, Mingoes and Delawares, 
 and a detachment of the Virginia militia. The Indians were 
 defeated, and sued for peace. 
 
 5. Logan, however, disdained to be seen among the sup- 
 pliants ; but, lest the sincerity of a treaty should be distrust- 
 ed from which so distinguished a chief absented himself, he 
 sent, by a messenger, the following speech, to be delivered 
 to lord Dunmore. 
 
 6. " I appeal to any white man to say, if ever he entered 
 Logan's cabin hungry, and he gave him no meat; if ever he 
 came cold and naked, and he clothed him not. During the 
 last long and bloody war, Logan remained idle in his cabin, 
 an advocate for peace. 
 
 7. (< Such was my love for the whites, that my country- 
 men pointed, as they passed by, and said, Logan is the friend 
 of lohite men. I had even thought to have lived with you, 
 had it not been for the injuries of one man. Colonel Cre- 
 sap, the last spring, in cold blood, and unprovoked, murder- 
 ed all the relations of Logan, not even sparing my women 
 and children. 
 
 8. " There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of 
 any living creature. This called on me for revenge. I 
 have sought it ; I have killed many ; I have fully glutted my 
 vengeance. For my country, I rejoice at the beams of peace ; 
 but do not harbour a thought that mine is the joy of fear. 
 Logan never felt fear. He will not turn on his heel to save 
 his life. Who is there to mourn for Locan ? Not one." 
 
 The aged Prisoner released from the Bastile.* 
 
 1 i O where else on earth, perhaps, has human misery, by 
 human means, been rendered so lasting, so complete, or so 
 rem'ediless, as in that despotick prison, the Bastile. This 
 the following case may suffice to evince, the particulars of 
 which are translated from that elegant and energetick writer, 
 Mr. Mercier. 
 
 * Pronounced Bas-teel'. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 37 
 
 2. The heinous offence which merited an imprisonment 
 surpassing torture, and rendering death a blessing, was no 
 more than some unguarded expressions, implying disrespect 
 towards the late Gallick monarch, Lewis Fifteenth. 
 
 3. Upon the accession of Lewis Sixteenth to the throne. 
 the ministers then in office, moved by humanity, began their 
 administration with an act of clemency and justice. They 
 inspected the registers of the Bastile, and set many prison- 
 ers at liberty. 
 
 4. Among these, there was an old man who had groaned 
 in confinement for forty-seven years, between four thick and 
 cold stone walls. Hardened by adversity, which strengthen? 
 both the mind and constitution, when they are not over- 
 powered by it, he had resisted the horrours of his long im- 
 prisonment with an invincible and manly spirit. 
 
 5. His locks, white, thin and scattered, had almost ac- 
 quired the rigidity of iron ; w T hilst his body, environed for 
 so long a time by a coffin of stone, had borrowed from it a 
 firm and compact habit. The narrow door of his tomb, 
 turning upon its grating hinges, opened, not, as usual, by 
 halves, and an unknown voice announced his liberty, and 
 bade* him depart. 
 
 6. Believing this to be a dream, he hesitated ; but at 
 length rose up, and walked forth with trembling steps, 
 amazed at the space he traversed. The stairs of the prison, 
 the halls, the courts, seemed to him vast, immense, and al- 
 most without bounds. 
 
 7. He stopped from time to time, and gazed around like 
 a bewildered traveller. His vision was w T ith difficulty rec- 
 onciled to the clear light of day. He contemplated the 
 heavens as a new object. His eyes remained fixed, and he 
 could not even w T eep. 
 
 8. Stupified with the newly acquired power of changing 
 his position, his limbs, like his tongue, refused, in spite of 
 his efforts, to perform their office. At length he got through 
 the formidable gate. 
 
 9. When he felt the motion of the carriage, which was 
 prepared to transport him to his former habitation, he 
 screamed out, and uttered some inarticulate sounds ; and, as 
 he could not bear this new movement, he was obliged to 
 
 * Pronounced bad. 
 4 
 
38 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 descend. Supported by a benevolent arm, he sought out 
 the street where he had formerly resided : he found it, but 
 no trace of his house remained ; one of the publick edifices 
 occupied the spot where it had stood. 
 
 10. He now saw nothing which brought to his recollec- 
 tion either that particular quarter, the city itself, or the ob- 
 jects with which he was formerly acquainted. The houses 
 of his nearest neighbours, which were fresh in his memory, 
 had assumed a new appearance. 
 
 11. In* vain were his looks directed to all the objects 
 around him : he could discover nothing* of which he had 
 the smallest remembrance. Terrified, he stopped, and fetch- 
 ed a deep sigh. To him what did it import, that the city was 
 peopled with living creatures ? Nonet of them were alive 
 to him ; he was unknown to all the world, and he knew no- 
 body ; and, whilst he wept, he regretted his dungeon. 
 
 12. At the name of the Bastile, which he often pronounc- 
 ed, and even claimed as an asylum, and the sight of his clothes, 
 which marked his former age, the crowd gathered around 
 him ; curiosity, blended with pity, excited their attention. 
 The most aged asked him many questions, but had no re* 
 membrance of the circumstances which he recapitulated. 
 
 13. At length accident brought to his way an ancient do- 
 mestick, now a superannuated porter, who, confined to his 
 lodge for fifteen years, had barely sufficient strength to open 
 the gate. Even he did not know the master he had served ; 
 but informed him that grief and misfortune had brought his 
 wife to the grave thirty years before; that his children were 
 gone abroad to distant climes, and that of all his relations 
 and friends, none now remained. 
 
 14. This recital was made with the indifference which 
 people discover for events long passed and almost forgotten. 
 The miserable man groaned, and groaned alone. The crowd 
 around, offering only unknown features to his view, made 
 him feel the excess of his calamities even more than he 
 would have done in the dreadful solitude which he had left. 
 
 15. Overcome with sorrow, he presented himself before 
 fhe minister, to whose humanity he swed that liberty which 
 was now a burden to him. Bowing down, he said, " Re- 
 store me again to that prison from which you have taken me. 
 
 * Pronounced nuthling. \ nun. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 39 
 
 I cannot survive the loss of my nearest relations ; of my 
 friends ; and, in one word, of a whole generation. Is it pos- 
 sible, in the same moment, to be informed of this universal 
 destruction, and not to wish for death ? 
 
 16. " This general mortality, which, to others, comes slow- 
 ly and by degrees, has to me been instantaneous ; the ope- 
 ration of a moment. Whilst secluded from society, I lived 
 with myself only ; but here, I can neither live with myself, 
 nor with this new race, to whom my anguish and despair 
 appear only as a dream." 
 
 17. The minister was melted ; he caused the old domes- 
 tick to attend this unfortunate person, as only he could talk to 
 him of his family. 
 
 18. This discourse was the single consolation which he re- 
 ceived ; for he shunned intercourse with the new race, born 
 since he had been exiled from the world ; and he passed his 
 time in the midst of Paris in the same solitude as he had 
 done whilst confined in a dungeon for almost half a century. 
 
 19. But the chagrin 7 * and mortification of meeting no per- 
 son who could say to him, " We were formerly known to 
 each other," soon put an end to his existence. 
 
 Account of Columbus. 
 
 3l O Christopher Columbus, a native of Gen'oa,f is deserv- 
 edly ascribed the first discovery of America — an event 
 which opened to mankind a new region of science, com- 
 merce and enterprise, and stamped with immortality the 
 name of its projector. 
 
 2. He was born in the year 1447. He early showed a 
 capacity and inclination for a sea-faring life, and received an 
 education which qualified him to pursue it. At the age of 
 fourteen, he went to sea, and began his career on that ele- 
 ment, where he was to perform exploits 7 which- should as- 
 tonish mankind. 
 
 3. He made a variety of voyages to almost every part of 
 the globe, with which any intercourse was then carried on 
 by sea, and became one of the most skilful navigators in 
 
 * Pronounced sha-green!. \ Gen'o-a. 
 
40 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Europe. But his active and enterprising genius would not 
 suffer him to rest in the decisions, and tamely follow the 
 track, of his predecessors. 
 
 4. It was the great object in view at this time, in Europe, 
 to find out a passage by sea to the East Indies. The Portu- 
 guese, among whom he now resided, sought a new route to 
 these desirable regions by sailing round the southern ex- 
 tremity of Africa. 
 
 5. They had consumed half a century in making various 
 attempts, and had advanced no farther on the western shore 
 of Africa than just to cross the equator, when Columbus 
 conceived his great design of finding India in the west. The 
 spherical figure of the earth, which he understood, made it 
 evident to him, that Europe, Asia and Africa formed but a 
 small portion of the globe. 
 
 6. It was an impeachment of the wisdom and beneficence 
 of the Author of nature to suppose the vast space yet un- 
 explored was a waste, unprofitable ocean ; and it appear- 
 ed necessary that there should be another continent in the 
 west, to counterpoise the immense quantity of land, which 
 was known to be in the east. 
 
 7. In the sea, near the Western Islands, pieces of carved 
 wood, and large joints of cane, had been discovered ; and 
 branches of pine trees, and the bodies ot two men, with fea- 
 tures different from the Eu-ro-pe'ans, had been found on the 
 shores of those islands after a course of westerly winds. 
 
 8. These reasonings and facts, with some others, con- 
 vinced Columbus that it was possible to find the desired land 
 by sailing in a westerly direction. He had a genius of that 
 kind which makes use of reasoning only as an excitement 
 to action. No sooner was he satisfied of the truth of his 
 system, than he was anxious to bring it to the test of exper- 
 iment, and set out on a voyage of discovery. 
 
 9. His first step was to secure the patronage of some of 
 the considerable powers of Europe, capable of undertaking 
 such an enterprise. Excited by the love of his country, he 
 laid his scheme before the senate of Gen'oa, offering to sail 
 under their banners. But they, ignorant of the principles 
 on which it was formed, rejected it as the dream of a vision- 
 ary projector^ 
 
 10. He next applied to John II., king of Portugal. But 
 
THE AMERICAN PPvECEPTOR. 41 
 
 he, being deeply engaged in prosecuting discoveries along 
 the coast of Africa, was not inclined to encourage the un- 
 dertaking of Columbus ; yet he meanly sought to rob him of 
 the glory and advantages of his scheme by privately de- 
 spatching a ship to make a discovery in the west. 
 
 11. When Columbus was acquainted with this perfidious 
 transaction, he quitted the kingdom with indignation, and 
 landed in Spain in 1484. Here, after seven years' painful 
 solicitation at court, and surmounting every obstacle which 
 ignorance, timidity, jealousy and avarice could lay before 
 him, he obtained his request; and Ferdinand and Isabella, 
 who then reigned together, agreed. to be pa/trons of his en- 
 terprise. 
 
 12. It was stipulated between him and them, that he 
 should be admiral in all those islands and continents he 
 should discover, and have the office hereditary in his family; 
 that he should be viceroy of the same fc* life, and enjoy a 
 tenth of the merchandise which should be, found. 
 
 13. Three small vessels were fitted out and victualled for 
 twelve months, furnished with ninety men, and placed un- 
 der his command. With this little fleet, he set sail from 
 Palos, on Friday, the third of August, ^492, and, taking a 
 westerly course, boldly ventured into the unknown ocean. 
 
 14. He soon found that he had unforeseen hardships and 
 difficulties to encounter from the inexperience and fears of 
 his men. To go directly from home into a boundless ocean, 
 far from any hope of relief if any accident should befall 
 them, and where no friendly port nor human being were 
 known to exist, filled the boldest seamen with apprehen- 
 sion. 
 
 15. What greatly added to their terrour, was a new and 
 extraordinary phenomenon, which occurred on the 14th of 
 September. The magnetick needle varied from the pole, 
 and, as they advanced, the variation increased. Nature 
 seemed to be changed, and their only guide through the 
 trackless waters to prove unfaithful. 
 
 16. After twenty days, the impatient sailors began to talk 
 of throwing their commander into the sea, and of returning 
 home. Their murmurs reached his ears; but his fertile 
 mind suggested an expedient in every extremity. By sooth* 
 ing ? flattery and artifice, by inventing reasons for every 
 
 -4* 
 
42 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 uncommon appearance, and deceiving them in the ship's 
 reckoning, he kept them on sixteen days longer. 
 
 17. On the night of the 11th of October, he himself 
 discovered a light, which appeared to move ; and, the next 
 morning, gave them the joyful sight of land. It proved to 
 be the island Guanahana, one of the cluster called Baha- 
 mas. Thus, in the space of thirty-six days, and in the forty- 
 fifth year of his age, Columbus completed a voyage, which 
 he had spent twenty years in projecting ; which opened to 
 the Europeans a new world, and made the name of Colum- 
 bus immortal. 
 
 18. With tears of joy, and transports of congratulation, 
 the crews of the ships sang a hymn of thanksgiving to God. 
 After touching at several islands, and leaving a small colony, 
 he returned to Spain. On his return, he was overtaken by 
 a storm, which became so furious that his destruction seemed 
 inevitable. The crews abandoned themselves to despair, and 
 expected every moment to be swallowed up in the waves. 
 
 19. In this extremity, he gave an admirable proof of his 
 calmness and foresight. He wrote a short account of his 
 voyage on parchment, enclosed it in a cake of wax, which 
 he put into a tight cask, and threw into the sea, in hopes 
 that some fortunate accident would preserve a deposit of 
 so much importance to the world. The storm, however, sub- 
 sided, and he arrived at Palos, in Spain, on the 15th of 
 March, 1493. 
 
 20. The populace received him with acclamations ; and 
 the king and queen, no less astonished than delighted with 
 his success, had him conducted to court with a pomp suita- 
 ble to the event which added such distinguished lustre to 
 their reign. His family was ennobled, and his former priv- 
 ileges and offices confirmed to him. 
 
 21. He soon sailed on a second expedition to the new 
 world, with a fleet of seventeen ships, having on board 1500 
 people, and all things necessary for establishing plantations. 
 After discovering many islands of the West Indies, and sub- 
 mitting to every labour and vexation in attempting to settle 
 his colony, he returned to Spain in 1498, to counteract the 
 intrigues and efforts of his enemies in the Spanish court. 
 
 22. He made two more voyages, in which he touched at 
 most parts of the West Indies, discovered the continent, 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 43 
 
 and coasted on its shores for 400 leagues. But the last part 
 of his life was made wretched by the persecutions of his 
 enemies. 
 
 23. Their pride and jealousy could not endure that a for- 
 eigner should obtain so high a rank as to be viceroy for 
 life, and have the office of admiral hereditary in his family, 
 to the exclusion of the Spanish nobles. They were,* there- 
 fore, indefatigable in their endeavours to depreciate his mer- 
 its, and ruin his fortune. 
 
 24. He was once carried home in irons, and, in violation 
 of gratitude, humanity and justice, basely deprived of all the 
 offices and possessions in the new world, to which he had a 
 right by the solemn stipulations of Ferdinand. When he re- 
 turned from his last voyage, in 1505, queen Isabella, his 
 only friend and patroness in the court of Spain, was dead. 
 
 25. Worn out with sickness and fatigue, disgusted with 
 Ae insincerity of his sovereign and the haughtiness of his 
 courtiers, he lingered out a year in fruitless solicitations for 
 his violated rights, till death relieved him from his sorrows. 
 He ended his useful and active life at Valladolid,onthe20th 
 of May, 1506, in the 59th year of his age. 
 
 26. In the life of this remarkable man there was no de- 
 ficiency of any quality which can constitute a great charac- 
 ter. He was grave, though courteous,f in his deportment, 
 circumspect in his words and actions, irreproachable in his 
 morals, and exemplaryj in all the duties of religion. 
 
 27. The court of Spain were so just to his memory, that, 
 notwithstanding their ingratitude towards || him during his 
 life, they buried him magnificently in the cathedral of Se- 
 ville 7 , and erected a tomb over him with this inscription, 
 
 Columbus has given a new world to the kingdoms of 
 Castile§ and Leon. 
 
 Columeia. 
 
 f^OLUMBIA, Columbia, to glory arise ; 
 
 The queen of the world, and the child of the skies ; 
 
 Thy genius commands thee ; with rapture behold, 
 
 While ages on ages thy splendours unfold. 
 
 # Pronounced w£r. f kur'tste-us. % egz'em-plar-y. 
 |j to'wards. § Cas-ted'. 
 
44 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Thy reign is the last and the noblest of time, 
 Most fruitful thy soil, most inviting thy clime ; 
 Let the crimes of the east ne'er encrimson thy name ; 
 Be freedom, and science, and virtue, thy fame. 
 
 2. To conquest and slaughter let Europe aspire, 
 Whelm nations in blood, and wrap cities in fire ; 
 Thy heroes the rights of mankind shall defend, 
 And triumph pursue them, and glory attend. 
 
 A world is thy realm, — for a world be thy laws, — 
 Enlarged as thine empire, and just as thy cause ; 
 On freedom's broad basis thy empire shall rise, 
 Extend with the main, and dissolve with the skids. 
 
 3. Fair science her gates to thy sons shall unbar, 
 And the east see thy morn hide the beams of her star ; 
 New bards and new sages unrivalled shall soar 
 
 To fame unextinguished, when time is no more. 
 To thee, the last refuge of virtue designed, 
 Shall fly, from all nations, the best of mankind ; 
 Here, grateful to Heaven, with transport shall bring 
 Their incense, more fragrant than odours of spring. 
 
 4. Nor less shall thy fair ones to glory ascend, 
 And genius and beauty in harmony blend ; 
 The graces of form shall awake pure desire, 
 And the charms of the soul ever cherish the fire ; 
 Their sweetness unmingled, their manners refined, 
 And virtue's bright image, enstamped on the mind, 
 With peace and soft rapture, shall teach life to glow 
 And light up a smile in the aspect of wo. 
 
 5. Thy fleets to all regions thy power shall display 
 The nations admire, and the ocean obey ; 
 
 Each shore to thy glory its tribute unfold, 
 And the east and the south yield their spices and gold. 
 As the day-spring, unbounded, thy splendour shall flow, 
 And earth's little kingdoms before thee shall bow, 
 While the ensigns of union, in triumph unfurled, 
 Hush the tumult of war, and give peace to the world. 
 
 6. Thus, as down a lone valley, with cedars o'erspread, 
 From war's dread confusion I pensively strayed, 
 
 The gloom from the face of fair heaven retired ; 
 The winds ceased to murmur ; the thunders expired ; 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 45 
 
 Perfumes, as of Eden, flowed sweetly along, 
 
 And a voice, as of angels, enchantingly sung, 
 
 " Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise ; 
 
 The queen of the world, and the child of the skies." 
 
 Parental Tenderness. 
 
 Jl/URING the Indian wars which preceded the Ameri- 
 can revolution, a young English officer was closely pursued 
 by two savages, who were on the point of killing him, when 
 an aged chief interfered, took the officer by the hand, en- 
 couraged him by his caresses; conducted him to his hut, and 
 treated him with all the kindness in his power. 
 
 2. The officer remained during the winter with the old 
 chief, who taught him their language, and the simple arts 
 with which they were acquainted. But when spring return- 
 ed, the savages again took up arms, and prepared for a more 
 vigorous campaign. The old chief followed the young war- 
 riours until they approached the English camp, when, turn- 
 ing to the young officer, he thus addressed him : — 
 
 3. You see your brethren preparing to give us battle : I 
 have saved thy life ; I have taught thee to make a canoe, a 
 bow and arrows ; to surprise the beasts of the forest, and 
 to scalp your enemy : wilt thou now be so ungrateful as to 
 join thy countrymen, and take up the hatchet against us ? 
 The Englishman declared that he would sooner perish him- 
 self than shed the blood of an Indian. 
 
 4. The old savage covered his face with both his hands, 
 and bowed down his head. After remaining some time in 
 this attitude, he looked at the young officer, and said, in a 
 tone of mingled tenderness and grief, Hast thou a father ? 
 He was living, said the young man, when I left my native 
 country. Oh ! how unhappy he must be ! said the savage. 
 
 5. After a moment's silence, he added, I have been a fa- 
 ther, but I am one no longer ; I saw my son fall by my side 
 in battle. But I have avenged him ; yes, I have avenged 
 him, said he with emphasis, while he endeavoured to sup- 
 press the groans which escaped in spite of him. He calm- 
 ed his emotions, and, turning towards the east, where the 
 
46 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 sun was rising, he said, Dost* thou behold the heavens with 
 pleasure ? I do, responded the young man. I do no longer, 
 said the savage, bursting into tears. 
 
 6. A moment after, he added, Do you look with delight 
 upon yonder beautiful flower ? I do y answered the young 
 man. I do no longer, said the savage, and immediately add- 
 ed, Depart to thine own country, that thy father may still 
 view the rising sun with pleasure, and take delight in the 
 flowers of spring. 
 
 The Sailor and the Monkeys. 
 
 JlERHAPS no animal, below the human species, resem- 
 bles man more in the imitative faculty than the monkey. It 
 is said that a sailor, having a number of red woollen caps to 
 dispose of, went on shore, in South America, to trade with 
 the natives. 
 
 2. In his way to a settlement lying through a wood very 
 thickly inhabited by monkeys, it being in the heat of the day, 
 he put a cap on his head, and, laying the others by his side, 
 determined to take a little repose under the shade of a large 
 tree. 
 
 3. To his utter astonishment, when he awoke, from the 
 specimen he had given his imitative observers of the use of 
 his caps, he beheld a number of them upon the heads of the 
 monkeys in the trees round about him, while the wearers 
 were chattering in the most unusual manner. 
 
 4. Finding every attempt to regain his caps fruitless, he 
 at length, in a fit of rage and disappointment, and under the 
 supposition that the one he retained on his head was not 
 worth taking away, pulled it off, and, throwing it upon the 
 ground, exclaimed, " Here, you little, thieving rogues, if 
 you will keep the rest, you are welcome to this also." 
 
 5. He had no sooner done this, than, to his great surprise, 
 the little, observing animals very readily imitated him. They 
 all threw down their caps on the ground ; by which means 
 the sailor regained his property, and marched off in triumph. 
 Happy would it be for mankind if they resembled monkeys 
 only in imitating the virtues of those whom they consider 
 their superiours, while they avoided their vices. 
 
 * Pronounced dust. \ 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 47 
 
 The brave Soldier's Revenge. 
 
 f V HEN the great Conde commanded the Spanish army, 
 and laid siege to one of the French towns in Flanders, a sol- 
 dier, being ill treated by a general officer, and struck several 
 times with a cane, for some disrespectful words he had let 
 fall, answered very coolly, that he should soon make him re- 
 pent of it. 
 
 2. Fifteen days afterwards, the same general officer order- 
 ed the colonel of the trenches to find a bold and intrepid fel- 
 low, to execute an important enterprise, for which he promised 
 a reward of a hundred pistoles. 
 
 3. The soldier we are speaking of, who passed for the 
 bravest in the regiment, offered his service ; and, going with 
 thirty of his comrades,* which he had the liberty to make 
 choice of, he discharged a very hazardous commission with 
 incredible courage and good fortune. Upon his return, the 
 general officer highly commended him, and gave him the 
 hundred pistoles which he had promised. 
 
 4. The soldier presently distributed them among his com- 
 rades,* saying, he did not serve for pay ; and demanded 
 only, that, if his late action deserved any recompense, they 
 would make him an officer. And now, sir, adds he to the 
 general, who did not know him, I am the soldier whom you 
 so much abused fifteen days ago, and I then told you, I would 
 make you repent of it. 
 
 5. The general, in great admiration, and melting into tears, 
 threw his arms around his neck, begged his pardon, and gave 
 him a commission that very day. 
 
 Sketch of the Life of William Penn. 
 
 WlLLIAM PENN, the founder of Pennsylvania, was 
 the son of an English admiral, who left, at his death, a large 
 estate to his son, and a considerable claim upon the govern- 
 ment for money advanced by him to carry on several impor- 
 tant expeditions when the finan'cesf of England were ex- 
 hausted. | 
 
 2. He early embraced the religion of the Quakers, who 
 * Pronounced cum'rades, | Jin-mn'ses. § egz-hawst ; ed. 
 
48 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 were then a new sect in England, and were persecuted by 
 the government on account of their religious opinions ; and, 
 as there was no hope of his obtaining his demand against the 
 government, he prevailed upon them to grant him a tract of 
 land in the newly-settled country of North America, which, 
 in honour of his father, they called Pennsylvania. 
 
 3. Here he invited all his friends who suffered persecution ; 
 and one of the first laws he enacted for the government of his 
 new province, was the most perfect toleration of all religions ; 
 for, said he, persecution has taught me to observe and re- 
 prove mischiefs in government, and, now it is in my power to 
 settle one, I purpose to leave myself, and my successors, no 
 power of doing mischief, that the will of one man may not 
 hinder the good of a whole country. 
 
 4. But this was not all ; he took the utmost care to protect 
 the Indians in their rights, and to prevent the encroachments 
 of white men. For this purpose, he ordered all goods sold to 
 the Indians to be first* tested ; that wrongs done to Indians 
 should be punished as those done to white men ; and that all 
 differences should be settled by twelve men, six planters, and 
 six Indians. 
 
 5. These stipulations in favour of the poor natives will 
 forever immortalize the name of William Penn ; for, soaring 
 above the prejudices and customs of other adventurers, who 
 considered them as lawful prey, whom they might defraud at 
 pleasure, he considered them as brethren, and rationalf be- 
 ings, who, in proportion to their ignorance, were entitled to 
 his fatherly protection and care. 
 
 6. Soon after his arrival, he had a meeting with the In- 
 dians to confirm the treaty ; for his scrupulous morality did 
 not permit him to look upon the king's parent! as sufficient 
 to establish his right to the country, without purchasing it by 
 fair and open bargain of the natives, to whom only it proper- 
 ly belonged. 
 
 7. Near the city of Philadelphia, there was an elm-tree 
 of a prodigious size, to which the leaders on both sides re- 
 paired. Penn appeared in his usual dress, and, on his arri- 
 val, he found the sachems and their tribes assembling. 
 They were seen in the woods as far as the eye could reach, 
 and looked frightful, both on account of their number, and 
 
 * Pronounced furst, not fust. t rash'un-al. \ patient. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 49 
 
 their arms. The Quakers were unarmed, and but a hand- 
 ful in comparison. 
 
 8. When the sachems were all seated, William Penn '3 
 said to have addressed the chief of them in the following 
 words. " The Great Spirit, who made us and thee, and who 
 rules in heaven and earth, knows that I and my friends have 
 a hearty desire to live in friendship with thee, and to serve 
 thee to the utmost of our power. 
 
 9. "It is not our custom to use hostile weapons* against 
 our fellow-creatures, for which reason we have come unarm- 
 ed. Our object is not to do injury, and thus provoke the 
 Great Spirit, but to do good. We are now met on the broad 
 path- way of good faith and good will, so that no advantage is 
 to be taken on either side.' 5 
 
 10. The great elm-tree, under which this treaty was made, 
 became celebrated on that account, and, when the British 
 were quartered near it, during the war of American indepen- 
 dence, their general so respected it, that, when his soldiers 
 were cutting down every tree for firewood, he placed a senti- 
 nel under it, that not a branch of it might be touched. 
 
 11. A few years ago it was blown down, when it was split 
 into wood, and many cups, bowls and other articles made of 
 it, to be kept as memorials. As to the roll of parchment, it 
 was shown to governour Keith at a conference in 1722, about 
 forty years after it was signed ; and a respectable missionary 
 informs us, that, between the years 1770 and 1780, the In- 
 dians mi-nute'ly related to him what had passed between Wil- 
 liam Penn and their forefathers. 
 
 Sketch of the Life of Fernando Cortez. 
 
 AXE was born in the year 1485, and was one of the most 
 able, as well as the most daring adventurers, who sought the 
 new world, soon after its discovery by Columbus. His courage 
 and enterprise recommended him to the governour of Cuba, 
 who gave him the command of an expedition, which he was 
 fitting out for the discovery and conquest of the neighbouring 
 continent. 
 
 2. With this fleet, which consisted of only eleven small 
 * Pronounced wep'pnz, 
 5 
 
50 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 vessels, the burden of the largest not exceeding one hundred 
 tons, he landed in the dominions of the Mexican emperor. His 
 forces, when mustered on the shore, scarcely amounted to six 
 hundred, including seamen, and of these, only thirteen were 
 armed with muskets, the rest having cross-bows and spears. Be- 
 sides these, however, they had ten pieces of artillery and eigh- 
 teen horses, which animals untd then were unknown in Mexico. 
 
 3. Having no authority from the* king of Spain, and hav- 
 ing quarrelled with the governour of Cuba, he could not rea- 
 sonably expect any reenforcement ; yet, with this inconsiderable 
 force, the genius of Cortez formed the apparently absurd pro- 
 ject of subduing a kingdom considerably advanced in the arts 
 of civilization, and possessing a population of several millions. 
 
 4. There was a tradition amongst the Mexicans, that a 
 people would one day come from the east, and finally bring 
 them into subjection; and when, in the first battle with the 
 invaders, not a Spaniard was injured, while thousands of their 
 countrymen were slain, superstition was mingled with their 
 traditionary fears, and the Spaniards were looked upon as a 
 superior race of beings. 
 
 5. Cortez encouraged this belief; but, foreseeing that there 
 were many obstacles to be overcome, and fearing the deser- 
 tion of his followers, he adopted the bold design of burning 
 his fleet, which rendered success or death inevitable. After 
 many engagements with petty princes, some of whom followed 
 his standard, he finally approached the city of Mexico, the 
 residence of the emperour, who, with all his nobles, came forth 
 to meet him, bringing with them many costly presents, and 
 showing the most profound respect for the children of the sun, 
 as they called the Spaniards. 
 
 6. Cortez concealed his real design from the devoted Mex- 
 icans ; but the encroachments of the Spaniards often provok- 
 ed them to make tumultuous attacks, which were always re- 
 pulsed with immense slaughter. In one instance, they took 
 possession of a high tower, which overlooked the Spanish 
 camp, and three times repulsed a considerable party which 
 was sent to dislodge them. 
 
 7. At last, Cortez rushed forward himself, and gained the 
 top of the tower, when two young Mexicans of high rank 
 seized upon him in a moment, and threw themselves head- 
 long over the battlement. Cortez was so fortunate as to loose 
 
 i 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 51 
 
 himself from their grasp, and the two heroick youths were 
 dashed to pieces by the fall. 
 
 8. He next contrived to obtain possession of the person 
 of Montezuma, the emperor, who was so wrought upon 
 by the insidious promises of Cortez, that he removed his 
 residence to the Spanish quarters, and became a voluntary 
 prisoner. While in this situation, he was killed by his own 
 subjects, when attempting to appease the fury of their attacks 
 «pon the Spanish camp. His brother, who succeeded him, 
 died soon after of the small-pox, which terrible disease was 
 unknown amongst the natives of the new world until the inva- 
 sion of the Spaniards. 
 
 9. Guatemozin, a nephew of Montezuma, succeeded to 
 the throne, and determined to defend the city with vigour, 
 and drive the Spaniards from his country ; while Cortez, who 
 had just been reenforced by a large body of troops, which 
 were sent by the governour of Cuba to seize him, but which 
 he had persuaded to join him, now advanced to obtain the re- 
 ward of all his labours, or put a period to them. 
 
 10. The contest was dreadful, and Guatemozin, after 
 giving proofs of valour and skill, which deserved a better 
 fate, fell into the hands of the conquerors. The city was 
 plundered, but the booty obtained fell so far short of their ex- 
 pectations, that the soldiers, supposing the emperor had con- 
 cealed his treasures, persuaded Cortez to torture the unfortu- 
 nate monarch, to force from him a confession of the place of 
 concealment. 
 
 11. Accordingly, the wretched Guatemozin and his prime 
 minister were stretched on burning coals. The emperor 
 bore the torture with firmness, but his fellow-sufferer, over- 
 come by excessive anguish, turning a dejected eye towards 
 his master, seemed to implore his permission to reveal all he 
 knew. The high-spirited prince, with a look of authority and 
 scorn, replied, " Am I, think you, on a bed of roses?" Awed 
 by this reproach, the minister persevered in his dutiful silence 
 until he expired. 
 
 12. The empire was speedily reduced under the dominion 
 of Spain, and became the most important of its foreign pos- 
 sessions ; but Cortez, after enduring so many hardships, and 
 procuring so important an acquisition for his country, lived 
 long enough to experience its neglect and ingratitude, and 
 ended hie active life in poverty and obscurity. 
 
52 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Dialogue between Fernando Cortez and William 
 Penn. 
 
 Cortez, JLS it possible, William Penn, that you should seri- 
 ously compare your glory with mine ! The planter of a small 
 colony in North America presume to vie with the conqueror 
 of the great Mexican empire ! 
 
 Penn. Friend, I pretend to no glory ; far be it from me to 
 glory. But this I say, that I was instrumental in executing 
 a more glorious work than that performed by thee ; incompa- 
 rably more glorious. 
 
 Cort. Dost thou not know, William Penn, that, with less 
 than six hundred Spanis'h foot, eighteen horse, and a few small 
 pieces of cannon, I fought and defeated innumerable armies of 
 very brave men ; dethroned an emperor who excelled all his 
 countrymen in the science of war, as much as they excelled the 
 rest of the West India nations ? that I made him my prisoner 
 in his own capital, and, after he had been deposed and slain 
 by his subjects, vanquished and took Guatemozin, his successor, 
 and accomplished my conquest of the whole Mexican empire, 
 which I loyally annexed to the Spanish crown ? Dost thou not 
 know, tha£, in doing these wonderful acts, I showed as much 
 courage as Alexander the Great, and as much prudence as Caesar? 
 
 Penn. I know very well that thou wast as fierce as a lion, 
 and as subtle* as a serpent. The prince of darkness may, 
 perhaps, place thee as high upon his black list of heroes as 
 Alexander or Caesar. It is not my business to interfere with 
 him in settling thy rank. But hark thee, friend Cortez ; what 
 right hadst thou, or had the king of Spain himself, to * the 
 Mexican empire ? Answer me that, if thou canst. 
 
 Cort. The pope gave it to my master. 
 
 Penn. Suppose the high priest of Mexico had taken it into 
 his head to give Spain to Montezuma ; would his right have 
 been good ? 
 
 Cort. These are questions of casuistry, which it is not the 
 business of a soldier to decide. We leave that to gownsmen. 
 But pray, Mr. Penn, what right had you to the colony you 
 settled ? 
 
 * Pronounced sutftle. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 53 
 
 Penn. An honest right of fair purchase. We gave the 
 native Indians a variety of articles which they wanted ; and 
 they in return, gave us lands which they did not want. All 
 was amicably agreed on, and not a drop of blood shed to 
 stain our acquisition. 
 
 Cort. I am afraid there was a little fraud in the purchase. 
 Thy followers, William Penn, are said to think that cheat- 
 ing, in a quiet and sober way, is no moral sin. 
 
 Perm. The righteous are always calumniated by the wick- 
 ed. But it was a sight which an angel might contemplate 
 with delight, to behold the colony which I settled ! to see 
 us living with the Indians like innocent lambs, and taming 
 the ferocity of their manners by the gentleness of ours ! 
 to see the whole country, which before was an uncultiva- 
 ted wilderness, rendered as fair and as fertile as the garden 
 of Eden ! O Fernando Cortez ! Fernando Cortez ! didst 
 thou leave the great Mexican empire in that state ? No, 
 thou didst turn those delightful and populous regions into a 
 desert, a desert flooded with blood. Dost thou not remem- 
 ber that most infernal scene, when the noble emperor Guate- 
 mozin was stretched out by thy soldiers upon hot, burning 
 coals, to make him discover in what part of the lake of 
 Mexico he had thrown the royal treasures ? Are not his 
 groans ever sounding in the ears of thy conscience 1 Do 
 they not rend thy hard heart, and strike thee with more 
 horrour than the yells of the Furies ? 
 
 Cort. Alas, I was not present when that direful act was 
 done ! Had I been there, the mildness of my nature never 
 would have suffered me to endure the sight. I certainly 
 should have forbidden it. 
 
 Penn. Thou wast the captain of that band of robbers, 
 who did this horrid deed. The advantage they had drawn 
 from thy counsels and conduct enabled them to commit ft ; 
 and thy skill saved them afterwards from the vengeance 
 which was due to so enormous a crime. The enraged 
 Mexicans would have properly punished them for it, if they 
 had not had thee for their general, thou hard-hearted, blood- 
 thirsty wretch. 
 
 Cort. The righteous , I find, can rail, William Penn. But 
 how do you hope to preserve this admirable colony you 
 have settled ? Your people, you tell me, live like innocent 
 5* 
 
54 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Iambs. Are there no wolves in America to devour those 
 lambs ? Do you expect the natives will always continue in 
 peace with your successors ? Or, if they should make war, 
 do you expect to oppose them by prayers and 'presents ? If 
 this be your policy, your devoted colony will soon become an 
 easy prey to the savages of the wilderness. 
 
 Perm. We leave that to the wise Disposer of events, who 
 governs all nations at his will. If we conduct with strict 
 justice towards the Indians, He will doubtless defend us 
 against all their invasions. 
 
 Cort. Is this the wisdom of a great legislator ! I have 
 heard some of your countrymen compare you to Solon ! 
 Did Solon, think you, give laws to a people, and leave 
 those laws and that people to the mercy of every invader ? 
 The first business of a legislator is to provide a military 
 strength, which may defend the whole system. The world, 
 William Penn, is a land of robbers. Any state or common- 
 wealth erected therein must be well fenced and secured by 
 good military institutions : the happier it is in all other re- 
 spects, the greater will be its danger, the more speedy its 
 destruction. Your plan of government must be changed; 
 these Indian nations must be extirpated, or your colony will 
 be lost. 
 
 Penn. These are suggestions of human wisdom. The 
 doctrines I held were inspired. They came from above. 
 
 Cort. It is blasphemy to say that any folly could come 
 from the fountain of wisdom. Whatever is inconsistent with 
 the great laws of nature, cannot be the effect of inspiration. 
 Self-defence is as necessary to nations as to men. And shall 
 individuals have a right which nations have not ? True reli- 
 gion, William Penn, is never inconsistent with reason and the 
 great laws of nature. — 
 
 Penn. Though what thou sayest should be true, it does 
 not come well from thy mouth. A tyrant talk of reason ! 
 Go to the inquisition, and tell them of reason, and the great 
 laws of nature. They will broil thee, as thy soldiers broil- 
 ed the unhappy Guatemozih. — Why dost thou turn pale? 
 Is it the name of the inquisition, or the name of Guatemo- 
 zin, which troubles and affrights thee ? O wretched man ! 
 I wonder not that thou dost tremble and shake, when thou 
 thinkest of the many murders thou hast committed, the many 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 55 
 
 thousands of those innocent Indians thou hast butchered, 
 without an accusation of a crime ! Remember there is a 
 day coming when thou must answer for all thy barbarities ! 
 What wouldst thou give to part with the renown of thy con- 
 quest, and to have a conscience as pure and undisturbed as 
 mine ? 
 
 Cort. I feel the force of thy words. They pierce me like 
 daggers. I can never, never be happy, while I retain any 
 memory of the ills I have caused ! 
 
 The Whistle. 
 
 ▼ ▼ HEN I was a child, at seven years old, says Dr. Frank- 
 lin, my friends on a holiday filled my little pockets with 
 coppers. I went directly to a shop where they sold toys 
 for children ; and, being charmed with the sound of a Whis- 
 tle, which I met by the way, in the hands of another boy, 
 I voluntarily offered and gave an my money for one. 
 
 2. I then came home, and went whistling all over the 
 house, much pleased with my Whistle, but disturbing all 
 the family. My brothers, and sisters, and cousins, under* 
 standing the bargain I had made, told me, I had given four 
 times as much for it as it was worth.* 
 
 3. This put me in mind of what good things I might 
 have bought with the rest of the money. And they laugh- 
 ed at me so much for my folly, that I cried with vexation ; 
 and the reflection gave me more chagrin' than the Whistle 
 gave me pleasure. 
 
 4. This, however, was afterwards of use to me ; the im- 
 pression continuing on my mind, so that often, when I was 
 tempted to buy some unnecessary thing, I said to myself, 
 Don't give too much for the Whistle. And so I saved my 
 money. 
 
 5. As I grew up, and came into the world, and observed 
 the actions of men, I thought I met with many, very many, 
 who gave too much for the Whistle. 
 
 6. When I saw one too ambitious of court favours, sacri 
 ficing his time in attendance at levies, his repose, his liber 
 
 * Pronounced ivurth. 
 
56 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 ty, his virtue, and perhaps his friends, to attain it, I have 
 said to myself, This man gives too much for his Whistle. 
 
 7. When I saw another fond of popularity, constantly em- 
 ploying himself in political bustles, neglecting his own af- 
 fairs, and ruining them by that neglect, He pays, indeed, said 
 I, too much for his Whistle. 
 
 8. If I knew a miser, who gave up every kind of com- 
 fortable living, all the pleasure of doing good to others, all 
 the esteem of his fellow citizens, and the joys of benevolent 
 friendship, for the sake of accumulating wealth, Poor man, 
 said I, you do, indeed, pay too much for the Whistle. 
 
 9. When I meet with a man of pleasure, sacrificing every 
 laudable improvement of the mind, or of his fortune, to 
 mere corporal sensations, and ruining his health in the pur- 
 suit, Mistaken man, say I, you are providing pain for your- 
 self instead of pleasure ; you give too much for your Whistle. 
 
 10. If I see one fond of fine clothes, fine furniture, fine 
 houses, fine equipage,* all above his fortune, for which he 
 contracts debts, and ends hip career in prison, Alas ! say I, 
 lie has paid dear, very dear, for his Whistle. 
 
 11. In short, I conceived that great part of the miseries 
 of mankind were brought upon them by the false estimates 
 they had made of the value of things, and by their giving too 
 much for their Whistles. 
 
 True Patriotism displayed at the Siege of Cai/ais. 
 
 JIN 1347, the city of Calais in France was besieged by 
 Edward III, king of England, and for more than a year had 
 resisted the utmost efforts of his forces to reduce it. The 
 English made their approaches and attacks without remission, 
 but the citizens were as obstinate in repelling them. 
 
 2. At length famine did more for Edward than arms. 
 After the citizens had devoured the lean carcasses of their 
 starved cattle and domestick animals, they fed on boiled 
 leather and vermin. In this extremity, they boldly resolv- 
 ed to attack the enemy's camp. The battle was long and 
 bloody, but the citizens who survived the slaughter were 
 * Pronounced ek f kioe-page. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 57 
 
 obliged* againf to retire within their gates, their governour 
 having been taken prisoner: 
 
 3. On the captivity of the governour, the command de- 
 volved upon Eustace de Saint Pierre, the mayor of the city, 
 a man of 7iumble birth, but of exalted virtue. Eustace, see- 
 ing the necessity of an immediate capitulation, now offered 
 to deliver the city to Edward, with all the possessions and 
 wealth of the inhabitants, provided he would spare their lives, 
 and permit them to depart free. 
 
 4. As Edward had long since expected to ascend the 
 throne of France, he was exasperated to the last degree 
 against the little band whose sole valour had defeated his 
 designs. He therefore determined to take exemplary ven- 
 geance upon them, and Sir Walter Manny was sent to in- 
 form the wretched inhabitants of this final decision. 
 
 5. "Consider," replied the governour, " that this is not the 
 treatment to which brave men are entitled. If any English 
 knight had been in my situation, Edward himself would 
 have expected the same conduct from him. But I inform 
 you, that, if we must perish, we will not perish unrevenged, 
 for we are not jet so reduced, but we can sell our lives at 
 a high price to the victors." 
 
 6. Manny was struck with the justness of the sentiment, 
 and he at last prevailed upon Edward to mitigate the sen- 
 tence. The best terms, however, which he would offer them, 
 were, that six of their most respectable citizens should suffer 
 death. They were to come to his camp, bringing the keys 
 of the city in their hands, bareheaded and barefooted, with 
 ropes about their necks ; and on these conditions he prom- 
 ised to spare the lives of the remainder. 
 
 7. Air that remained of the unfortunate inhabitants were 
 collected in a great square, expecting, with anxious hearts, 
 the sentence of their conqueror. When Sir Walter had de- 
 clared his message, consternation and dismay were impress- 
 ed upon every countenance. To a long and dead silence 
 deep sighs and groans succeeded, when Eustace thus address- 
 ed the assembly. 
 
 8. " My friends, we must either submit to the terms of our 
 unfeeling conqueror, or yield up our wives and daughters, 
 and our^ tender infants, to a bloody and brutal soldiery. 
 
 * Pronounced o-bly'ged. \ a-gZn'. 
 
58 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Look about you, my friends, and fix your eyes on those you 
 wish to deliver up, the victims of your own safety. Is there 
 any here who has not watched for you, who has not fought 
 ^ind bled for you 1 
 
 9. " Is it your preservers, ihejx, whom you would destine 
 to destruction ? You will not, you cannot do it. There is 
 but one expedient left, a gracious, a glorious, a godlike ex- 
 pedient. Is there any one here to whom virtue is dearer 
 than life ? Let him offer himself as a sacrifice for the safety 
 of his people." 
 
 10. He spoke, but a universal silence ensued. Each 
 man looked around for an example of that virtue and mag- 
 nanimity in others, which he wished to approve in himself, 
 but had not resolution enough to put in practice. At length 
 St. Pierre resumed : " It had been base in me, my fellow 
 citizens, to propose any suffering to others, which I should 
 have been unwilling to undergo in my own person ; but I 
 held it ungenerous to deprive any man of the honour which 
 might attend the first offer on so glorious an occasion. 
 
 11. "I am willing to be the first to give my life for your 
 sakes ; I give it freely, I give it cheerfully. Who comes 
 next 1" " Your son," exclaimed a youth not yet come to maturity. 
 " Ah, my child," cried St. Pierre, " I am then twice sacrificed. 
 Thy years are few, 'but full, my son, for the victim of virtue 
 has fulfilled the great purpose of his being. Who next, my 
 friends ? this is the hour of heroes." 
 
 12. " Your kinsman," cried John d 7 Aire. " Your kmsman," 
 cried James Wissant. " Your kinsman," cried Peter Wissant. 
 " Ah !" exclaimed Sir Walter Manny, bursting into tears, " why 
 was not I a citizen of Calais ?" The sixth victim was still 
 wanted, and the number of those who pressed forward was so 
 great, that he was supplied by lot. 
 
 13. The keys were then delivered to Sir Walter, who took 
 the six prisoners into his custody, and ordered the gates to be 
 opened. The English by this time were informed of what 
 had passed in the city, and each of the soldiers prepared a 
 portion of his own victuals* to entertain the half-famished in- 
 habitants. 
 
 14. At length St. Pierre and his fellow citizens appeared, 
 with sir Walter Manny, and a guard. The tents of the 
 
 * Pronounced vit'tles. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 59 
 
 English were all emptied, and the soldiers poured from all 
 quarters to catch a sight of this little band of patriots as they 
 passed. They bowed down to them on all -sides, and mur- 
 mured their applause of that virtue, which they could not but 
 revere, even in their enemies. 
 
 15. As soon as they had reached the king, he said, " Manny, 
 are these the principal inhabitants of Calais ?" " They are," said 
 Manny, " hot only the principal men of Calais, but of France, 
 my liege, if virtue can ennoble them." " Were they delivered 
 peaceably V ' said Edward. " They are self delivered, self devo- 
 ted," said Manny, " and come to offer up their inestimable 
 heads as a ransom for thousands." 
 
 16. Edward was secretly offended at the praises which 
 Manny so kberally bestowed upon enemies, whose obstinacy 
 had so exasperated him ; but, concealing his resentment, he 
 replied, " Experience has ever shown, that lenity only serves 
 to incite the criminal to new crimes, which severity only can 
 effectually punish and restrain. 
 
 17. " Go," said the king to an officer, " and lead these men 
 to execution. Your rebellion," continued he, addressing him- 
 self to St. Pierre, " is highly aggravated by your present pre- 
 sumption, and contempt of my power." " We have nothing* 
 to ask of your majesty," said Eustace, " save what you cannot 
 refuse us." " What is that ?" said Edward. " Your, esteem, my 
 lord," said Eustace, and went out with his companions. 
 
 18. At this critical instant, the queen arrived with a pow- 
 erful reenforcement, and Sir Walter flew to inform her majes- 
 ty of the particulars respecting the six victims. She imme- 
 diate 1 y repaired to the king, and persuaded him, with tears 
 and arguments, to save the lives of those unhappy men. " Be 
 it so," cried Edward, who was convinced of his impolicy ; " pre- 
 vent the execution, and bring them instantly before us." 
 
 19. They came, — when the queen, with an aspect and ac- 
 cent of mildness, thus addressed them : "Natives of France, 
 and inhabitants of Calais, you have put us to vast expense of 
 blood and treasure; but you have, no doubt, acted up to the 
 best of your judgment. We loose your chains, we snatch 
 you from the scaffold, and we thank you for the lesson of hu- 
 miliation you teach us. 
 
 20. " You have shown us that excellence does not consist 
 * Pronounced nuth'ing. 
 
60 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 in birth or station ; that virtue gives a dignity superior to that 
 of kings ; and that those, whom the Almighty endows with 
 sentiments like yours, are justly and eminently raised above 
 all human distinctions. We give you freedom, and we offer 
 to your choice the gifts and honours that Edward has to be- 
 stow." 
 
 21. "Ah, my country," exclaimed St. Pierre, " it is now that 
 I tremble for you. Edward could only win your cities, but 
 Philippa conquers hearts." " Brave St. Pierre," said the queen, 
 "wherefore look you so dejected?" " Ah, madam," said he, 
 " when I meet with such another opportunity of dying, I shall 
 not regret that I survived this day." 
 
 Anecdote of Montesquieu.* 
 
 A. GENTLEMAN, being at Marseilles,t hired a boat, with 
 an intention of sailing for pleasure. He entered into conver- 
 sation with the two young men who owned the vessel, and 
 learned that they were not watermen by trade, but silver- 
 smiths ; and that, when they could be spared from their usual 
 business, they employed themselves in that way to increase 
 their earnings. 
 
 2. On expressing his surprise at their conduct, and imput- 
 ing it to an avaricious disposition, " Oh, sir," said the young 
 men, " if you knew our reasons, you would ascribe it to a bet- 
 ter motive. 
 
 3. " Our father, anxious to assist his family, scraped together 
 all he was worth ; purchased a vessel for the purpose of trad- 
 ing to the coast of Barbary ; but was unfortunately taken by 
 a pirate, carried to Trip'oli, and sold for a slave. 
 
 4. " He writes word, that he has luckily fallen into the hands 
 of a master who treats him with great humanity ; but that the 
 sum, which is demanded for his ransom, is so exorbitant, 
 that it will be impossible for him ever to raise it. He adds, that 
 we must, therefore, relinquish all hope of ever seeing him 
 again, and be contented that he has as many comforts as his 
 situation will admit. 
 
 5. " With the hopes of restoring to his family a beloved 
 father, we are striving, by every honest mean in our power^ 
 
 * Pronounced Mon-tes'cue. i Mar-sales'. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 61 
 
 to collect the sum necessary for his ransom ; and we are not 
 ashamed to employ ourselves in the occupation of watermen." 
 The gentleman was struck with this account, and, on his 
 departure, made them a handsome present. 
 
 6. Some months afterwards, the young men, being at work 
 in their shop, were greatly surprised at the sudden arrival of 
 their father, who threw himself into their arms, exclaiming, 
 at the same time, that he was fearful they had taken some un- 
 just method to raise the money for his ransom ; for it was too 
 great a sum for them to have gained by their ordinary occu- 
 pation. 
 
 7. They professed their ignorance of the whole affair, and 
 could only suspect they owed their father's release to that 
 stranger, to whose generosity they had been before so much 
 obliged. After Montesquieu's death, an account of this affair 
 was found among his papers, and the sum actually remitted 
 to Tripoli for the old man's ransom. 
 
 8. It is a pleasure to hear of such an act of benevolence 
 performed even by a person totally unknown to us ; but the 
 pleasure is greatly increased, when it proves the union of vir- 
 tue and talents in an author so renowned as Montesquieu. 
 
 The benevolent Pair. 
 
 A. POOR man and his wife at Vienna, who had six small 
 children, finding themselves unable to support them all, were 
 reduced to the necessity of turning the youngest upon the 
 public. The husband carried it reluctantly to the foundling 
 hospital, deposited it in the basket, which was placed near the 
 gate for the reception of the foundlings, and anxiously waited 
 till the arrival of the inspector, that he might take a farewell 
 view of his child. 
 
 2. When the inspector came, at the usual time, to examine 
 the basket, he perceived two children therein. Observing 
 the labourer, who stood at a small distance, he supposed that 
 he had brought them both ; and compelled the poor man, 
 notwithstanding all his protestations to the contrary, to return 
 with two children, instead of one, which was already more 
 than he knew how to maintain. 
 6 
 
62 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 3. His wife, as well as himself, was exceedingly dejected 
 at this increase of their expenses ; but, unwilling to expose 
 the little stranger in the street, they determined to use all 
 their endeavours to support themselves and the seven chil- 
 dren ; and they hoped Providence would assist them. 
 
 4. On undressing the child, the woman found a paper 
 sewed to its clothes, containing an order upon a banker for 
 five crowns a month, to be paid to the person who took care 
 of it. The good people were not a little rejoiced at their 
 happy fortune. 
 
 5. But the story being circulated, and coming to the knowl- 
 edge of the managers of the hospital, they claimed the child 
 as their property. The labourer refused to relinquish it, and 
 was assisted by some persons of distinction. 
 
 6. The cause being tried in a court of justice, it was de- 
 creed, that, as the foundling hospital had at first declined re- 
 ceiving the child, it of right belonged to the poor man, who 
 had shown such humanity in keeping it, when he was so ill 
 abta-to afford any additional expense. 
 
 The unfortunate Philanthropist. 
 
 iN the year 1775, a ship, lying at anchor in Table Bay, 
 at the Cape of Good Hope, was driven on shore in a violent 
 storm, and the crew reduced to the utmost distress and dan- 
 ger. Their cries for assistance were distinctly heard by the 
 inhabitants ; but at first there appeared no prospect of relief 
 from any quarter. 
 
 2. The swell of the sea, which broke over the ship with 
 the greatest violence, made it impossible for them to save them- 
 selves in, boats, and highly dangerous to attempt it by swim- 
 ming. Some of those, who ventured to swim to the shore, 
 were cUrown against the rocks, and dashed to pieces ; others, 
 as soon as they had arrived at the shore, were carried back 
 by another wave, and drowned. 
 
 3. A Dutchman, by the name of Voltemad, who happened 
 to be a spectator of this distressing scene, was touched 
 with compassion of so noble a kind, and at the same time so 
 operative, that, mounting a high-spirited horse, he swam 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 63 
 
 him over to the ship, encouraged some of the crew to 
 lay hold of the end of a rope, which he threw out to them 
 for that purpose, and others to fasten themselves to the 
 horse's tail ; then turned about, and carried them safe on 
 shore. 
 
 4. This animal's natural aptness for swimming, the great 
 size of his body, the firmness and strength of his limbs, 
 prevented him from being easily overpowered by the swell of 
 the sea. But, unfortunately, this generous and active veteran 
 himself became a victim to death. 
 
 5. Fourteen young persons he had actually saved ; and, 
 while endeavouring to preserve more than it was possible for 
 him to do in so short a time^ he and his horse were both 
 drowned. The occasion of this was as follows. 
 
 6. After the seventh turn, having staid a little longer 
 than usual to rest himself, the poor wretches on board were 
 afraid that he did not intend to return ; for this reason, 
 being impatient, they redoubled their prayers and cries for 
 assistance, upon which, his tenderest feelings being wrought 
 upon, he again hastened to their relief ere his horse was suf- 
 ficiently rested. 
 
 7. The poor animal, almost spent, now sunk the sooner 
 under his burthen, inasmuch as too many sought to be saved 
 at one time ; and one of them, as it was thought, happened 
 unluckily to catch hold of the horse's bridle, and by that 
 mean drew his head under water. 
 
 8. This bold and enterprising philanthropist commands 
 our esteem and admiration the more, as he had put himself 
 into this danger for the relief of others, without himself be- 
 ing able to swim. The Dutch East India company caused a 
 monument to be erected to the memory of this unfortunate 
 philanthropist. 
 
 St. Paul's Speech before King Agrippa. 
 
 J. THINK myself happy, king Agrippa, because I shall 
 answer for myself this day before thee, touching all the things 
 whereof I am accused of the Jews; especially as I know 
 
64 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 thee to be expert in all customs and questions which are 
 among the Jews. Wherefore I beseech thee to hear me 
 patiently. 
 
 2. My manner of life from my youth, which was at the 
 first among my own nation at Jerusalem, know all the Jews ; 
 who knew me from the beginning, if they would testify, 
 that, after the straitest sect of our religion, I lived a Phar- 
 isee. 
 
 3. And now I stand and am judged for the hope of the 
 promise made of God unto our fathers. Unto which promise, 
 our twelve tribes, instantly serving God day and night, hope 
 to come ; for which hope's sake, king Agrippa, I am accused 
 of the Jews. 
 
 4. Why should it be thought a thing incredible with you, 
 that God should raise the dead 1 I verily thought with myself, 
 that I ought to do many things contrary to the name of Jesus 
 of Nazareth. 
 
 5. Which thing I also did in Jerusalem; and many of 
 the saints did I shut up in prison, having received authority 
 from the chief priests. And when they were put to death, I 
 gave my voice against them. And I punished them oft in 
 every synagogue, and compelled them to blaspheme. And, 
 being exceedingly mad against them, I persecuted them even 
 unto strange cities. 
 
 6. Whereupon, as I went to Damas'cus, with authority and 
 commission from the chief priests, at mid-day, O king, 
 I saw in the way a light from heaven, above the brightness 
 of the sun, shining round about me, and them who journeyed 
 with me. 
 
 7. And, when we were all fallen to the earth, I heard a 
 voice speaking unto me, and saying, in the Hebrew tongue, 
 Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me ? And I said, Who art 
 thou, Lord ? And he said, I am Jesus, whom thou persecu- 
 test. 
 
 8. But rise, and stand upon thy feet ; for I have appeared 
 unto thee for this purpose, to make thee a minister, and 
 a witness, both of these things which thou hast seen, and 
 of those things in the which I will appear unto thee ; deliver- 
 ing thee from the people, and from the Gentiles, unto whom 
 I now send thee, to open their eyes, and to turn them 
 from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 65 
 
 God ; that they may receive forgiveness of sins, and in- 
 heritance among them who arc sanctified by faith which is 
 in me. 
 
 9. Whereupon, O king Agrippa, I was not disobedient 
 unto the heavenly" vision ; but showed first unto them of Da- 
 mascus, and at Jerusalem, and throughout all the coasts of 
 Jude'a, and then to the Gentiles, that they should repent, and 
 turn to God, and do works meet for repentance. For these 
 causes, the Jews caught me in the temple, and went about to 
 kill me. 
 
 10. Having therefore obtained help from God, I continue 
 unto this day, witnessing both to small and great ; saying no 
 other things than those which Moses and the prophets did say 
 should come ; that Christ should suffer, and that he should 
 be the first who should rise from the dead, and should show 
 light unto the people, and to the Gentiles. 
 
 Cruelty to Animals. 
 
 1? lONTAIGNE* thinks it some reflection upon human 
 nature itself, that few people take delight in seeing beasts 
 caress or play together, but almost every one is pleased to see 
 them lacerate and worry one another. 
 
 2. It is gratifying to perceive that the beneyolent precepts 
 of Christianity have in a great measure mitigated the treat- 
 ment of brute animals, although many cruel sports are still 
 allowed by the most cultivated nations, such as bull-baiting, 
 cock-fighting, dog-fighting, and the like. 
 
 3. We should find it hard to vindicate the destroying of 
 any thing that has life merely out of wantonness ; yet in this 
 principle our children are bred up ; and one of the first 
 pleasures we allow them is the license of inflicting pain upon 
 poor animals. 
 
 4. Almost as soon as we are sensible what life is ourselves, 
 we make it our sport to take it from other creatures. I can- 
 not but believe a very good use might be made of the fancy 
 which children have for birds and insects. 
 
 5. Mr. Locke takes notice of a mother who often procur- 
 ed these animals for her children, but rewarded or punished 
 
 * Pronounced Mon-tayn'. 
 
 6* 
 
66 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 them as they treated them well or ill. This was no other 
 than entering them betimes into a daily exercise of humanity, 
 and improving their very diversion to a virtue. 
 
 6. The laws of self-defence undoubtedly justify us in de- 
 stroying those animals which would destroy us, which injure 
 our property, or annoy our persons ; but not even these, 
 whenever their situation incapacitates them from hurting 
 us. 
 
 7. I know of no right which we have to shoot a bear on 
 an inaccessible island of ice, or an eagle on the mountain's 
 top, whose lives cannot injure, nor deaths procure us any 
 benefit. We are unable to give life, and therefore ought not 
 wantonly to take it away from the meanest insect, without 
 sufficient reason. They all receive it from the same benev- 
 olent hand as ourselves, and have therefore an equal right to 
 enjoy it. 
 
 8. God has been pleased to create numberless animals 
 intended for our sustenance ; and that they are so intended, 
 the agreeable flavour of their flesh to our palates, and the 
 wholesome nutriment which it administers to our stomachs, 
 are sufficient proofs. 
 
 9. These, as they are formed for our use, propagated by 
 our culture, and fed by our care, we have certainly a right 
 to deprive of life, because it is given and preserved to them 
 on that condition. 
 
 10. But this should always be performed with all the 
 tenderness and compassion which so disagreeable an office 
 will permit ; and no circumstances ought to be omitted, which 
 can render their executions as quick and easy as possi- 
 ble. 
 
 Speech of Nicola'us. 
 
 JL HE Athenians having made war upon the Syracusians, 
 the army of the former, under the command of Nicias and 
 Demosthenes, was totally defeated, and the generals obli- 
 ged to surrender at discretion. The victors, having entered 
 their capital in triumph, the next day a council was held to 
 deliberate what was to be done with the prisoners. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 67 
 
 2. Diodes, one of the leaders of the greatest authority 
 among the people, proposed that all- the Athenians who were 
 born, of free parents, and all such Sicilians as had joined 
 with them, should be imprisoned, and be maintained on 
 bread and water only; that the slaves, and all the At- 
 ticks, should be publickly sold ; and that the two Athenian 
 generals should be first scourged* with rods, and then put 
 to death. 
 
 3. This last article exceedingly disgusted all wise and 
 compassionate Syracusians. Hermoc'ra-tes, who was very 
 famous for his probity and justice, attempted to make some 
 remonstrances to the people ; but they would not hear him ; 
 and the shouts which echoed from all sides prevented him 
 from continuing his speech. 
 
 4. At that instant, Nicola'us, a man venerable for his great 
 age and gravity, who in this war had lost two sons, the only 
 heirs to his name and estate, made his servants carry him to 
 the tribunal for harangues ; and, the instant he appeared, a 
 profound silence ensued, when he addressed them in the fol- 
 lowing manner. 
 
 5. " You here behold an unfortunate father, who has felt 
 more than any other Syracusian, the fatal effects of this war, 
 by the death of two sons, who formed all the consolation, and 
 were the only supports, of my old age. 
 
 6. "I cannot, indeed, forbear admiring their patriotism in 
 sacrificing to their country's welfare a life, which they would ' 
 one day have been deprived of by the common course of na- 
 ture ; but, then, I cannot but be sensibly affected with the 
 cruel wound which their death has made in my heart, nor 
 forbear detesting the Athenians, the authors of this unhappy 
 war, as the murderers of my children. 
 
 7. "But, however, there is one circumstance which I 
 cannot conceal — that I am less sensible for my private afflic- 
 tions, than for the honour of my country, which I see expos- 
 ed to eternal infamy, by the barbarous advice which is 
 now given you. The Athenians, I own, for declaring war 
 so unjustly against us, merit the severest treatment which 
 could be inflicted on them ; but have not the gods, the just 
 avengers of wrong, sufficiently punished them, and aveng* 
 ed us? 
 
 * Pronounced skurged. 
 
G8 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 8. " When their generals laid down their arms and surren- 
 dered, did they not do this in hopes of having their lives spar- 
 ed ? And will it be possible for us, if we put them to death, 
 to avoid the just reproach of having violated the law of nations, 
 and dishonoured our victory by unheard-of cruelty ! 
 
 9. " What, will you suffer your glory to be thus sullied in 
 the face of the whole world ? and will you hear it said that 
 a nation, who first dedicated a temple to clemency, had found 
 none in Syracuse ? Surely, victories and triumphs do not 
 give m? mortal glory to a city ; but the exercising of mercy to- 
 wards a vanquished enemy, moderation in the greatest pros- 
 perity, and the fearing to offend the gods by a haughty and 
 insolent pride, are glories far more permanent than the most 
 splendid conquests. 
 
 10. " You doubtless have not forgotten, that this Nicias, 
 whose fate you are going to pronounce, was the very man 
 who pleaded your cause in the assembly of the Athenians, 
 and who employed all his credit, and the whole power of his 
 eloquence, to dissuade his country from embarking in this 
 war. 
 
 11. "Should you, therefore, pronounce sentence of death 
 on this worthy general, would it be a just reward for the zeal 
 he showed for your interest ? With f regard to myself, death 
 would be less grievous to me, than the sight of so horrid an 
 injustice committed by my countrymen and fellow-citizens." 
 
 The true Point of Honour. 
 
 JL HE Spanish historians relate a memorable instance of 
 honour and regard to truth. A Spanish cavalier, in a sudden 
 quarrel, slew a Moorish gentleman, and fled. His pursuers 
 soon lost sight of him, for he had, unperceived, thrown himself 
 over a garden wall. 
 
 2. The owner, a Moor, happening to be in his garden, was 
 addressed by the Spaniard on his knees, who acquainted him 
 with his case, and implored concealment. " Eat this," said the 
 Moor, giving him half a peach; " you now know that you may 
 confide in my protection." 
 
 3. He then locked him up in his garden apartments, tell- 
 ing him, as soon as it was night, he would provide for his 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. C>9 
 
 escape to a place of greater safety. The Moor then went 
 into his house, where he had but just seated himself, 
 when a great crowd, with loud lamentations, came to his gate, 
 bringing the corpse of his son, who had just been killed by a 
 Spaniard. 
 
 4. When the first shock of surprise was a little over, he 
 learned, from the description given, that the fatal deed was 
 done by the very person then in his power. He mentioned 
 this to no one ; but, as soon as it was dark, retired to his gar- 
 den, as if to grieve alone, giving orders that none should 
 follow him. 
 
 5. Then, accosting the Spaniard, he said, " Christian, the 
 person you have killed is my son ; his body is now in my 
 house. You ought to suffer ; but you have eaten with me, 
 and I have given you my faith, which must not be broken." 
 
 6. He then led the astonished Spaniard to his stables, and 
 mounted him on one of his fleetest horses, and said, " Fly far 
 while the night can cover you ; you will be safe in the morn- 
 ing. You are indeed guilty of my son's blood, but God is 
 just and good, and I thank him I am innocent of yours, and 
 that my faith given is preserved." 
 
 7. In the year 1746, when the English were at open war 
 with Spain, the Elizabeth, of London, Capt. William Ed- 
 wards, coming through the gulf from Jamaica, richly laden, 
 met with a most violent storm, in which the ship sprung a 
 leak, that obliged them, for the saving of their lives, to run 
 into Havanna, a Spanish port. 
 
 8. The captain went on shore, and directly waited on the 
 governour, told the occasion of his putting in, and that he sur- 
 rendered the ship as a prize, and himself and his men as 
 prisoners of war, only requesting good quarter. 
 
 9. "No, sir," replied the Spanish governour ; "if we had 
 taken you in fair war at sea, or approaching our coast with 
 hostile intentions, your ship would then have been a prize, 
 and your people prisoners ; but when, distressed by a tem- 
 pest, you come into our ports for the safety of your lives, 
 we, the enemies, being men, are bound as such by the laws 
 of humanity to afford relief to distressed men who ask it 
 of us. 
 
 10. " We cannot, even against our enemies, take advan- 
 tage of an act of God. You have leave, therefore, to unload 
 
70 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 your ship, if that be necessary to stop the leak ; you may re- 
 fit her here, and traffick so far as shall he necessary to pay the 
 charges ; you may then depart, and I will give you a pass to 
 be in force till you are beyond Bermuda. 
 
 11. li If after that you are taken, you will then be a lawful 
 prize : but now you are only a stranger, and have a stranger's 
 right to safety and protection." The ship accordingly de- 
 parted, and arrived safe in London. 
 
 The House of Sloth. 
 
 JlSESIDE yon lonely tree, whose branches, bare, 
 Rise white, and murmur to the passing air, 
 There, where the twining briers the yard enclose, 
 The house of sloth stands hushed in long repose. 
 
 2. O'er an old well, the curb, half fallen, spread, 
 Whose boards, end loose, a mournful creaking made, 
 Poised on a leaning post, and ill sustained, 
 
 In ruin sad, a mouldering sweep remained ; 
 Useless the crooked pole still dangling hung, 
 And, tied with thrums, a broken bucket swung. 
 
 3. A half made wall around the garden lay, 
 Mended, in gaps, with brushwood in decay ; 
 No culture through the tangled briers was seen, 
 Save a few sickly plants of faded green ; 
 
 The starved potato hung its blasted seeds ; 
 And fennel struggled to o'er top the weeds : 
 There gazed a ragged sheep, with wild surprise, 
 And two lean geese upturned their slanting eyes. 
 
 4. The cottage gaped with many a dismal yawn, 
 Where, rent to burn, the covering boards were gone ; 
 Or, by one nail where others endwise hung, 
 
 The sky looked through, and winds portentous rung. 
 In waves, the yielding roof appeared to run, 
 And half the chimney-top was fallen down. 
 
 5. The ancient cellar-door, of structure rude, 
 With tattered garments caulked, half open stood ; 
 There, as I peeped, I saw the ruined bin ; 
 
 The sills were broke, the wall had crumbled in ; 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 71 
 
 A few long-emptied casks lay mouldering round, 
 And wasted ashes sprinkled o'er the ground ; 
 While, a sad sharer in the household ill, 
 A half-starved rat crawled out, and bade* farewell. 
 
 6. One window dim, a loop-hole to the sight, 
 Shed round the room a pale, penurious light ; 
 Here rags, gay-coloured, eked the broken glass ; 
 There panes of wood supplied the vacant space. 
 
 7. As pondering deep I gazed, with gritty roar 
 The hinges creaked, and open stood the door. — 
 Two little boys, half naked from the waist, 
 With staring wonder, eyed me as I passed ; 
 
 The smile of pity blended with her tear, 
 Ah me ! how rarely comfort visits here ! 
 
 8. On a lean mat/ tress, which was once well filled. 
 His limbs by dirty tatters ill-concealed, 
 
 Though now the sun had rounded half the day, 
 Stretched at full length, the sluggard snoring lay ; 
 While his sad wife beside her dresser* stood, 
 And, on a broken dish, prepared her food. 
 
 9. His aged sire, whose beard and flowing hair 
 Waved silvery o'er .his antiquated chair, 
 
 Rose from his seat ; and, as he watched my eye, 
 Deep from his bosom heaved a mournful sigh : 
 " Stranger," he cried, " once better days I knew ;" 
 And, trembling, shed the venerable dew. 
 
 10. I wished a kind reply, but wished in vain ; 
 No words came timely to relieve my pain : 
 
 To the poor mother, and her infants dear, 
 Two mites I gave, besprinkled with a tear ; 
 And, fixed to see again the wretched shed, 
 Withdrew in silence, closed the door, and fled. 
 
 11. Yet this same lazy man I oft have seen 
 Hurrying and bustling round the busy green ; 
 The loudest prater in a cobbler's shop, 
 
 The wisest statesman o'er a drunken cup ; 
 In every gambling, racing match abroad, 
 But a rare hearer inHhe house of God. 
 
 * Pronounced had, 
 
72 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Advice to a young Tradesman. 
 
 JXEMEMBER that time is money. He who can earn 
 
 ten shillings a day by his labour, and goes abroad or sits idle 
 one half of that day, though he spend but six-pence during his 
 diversion or idleness, ought not to reckon that the only ex- 
 pense ; he has really spent, or rather thrown away, five shil- 
 lings besides. 
 
 2. Remember that credit is money. If a man lets his 
 money lie in my, hands after it is due, he gives me the inter- 
 est, or so much as I can make of it during that time. This 
 amounts to a considerable sum where a man has good and 
 large credit, and makes good use of it. 
 
 3. Remember that money is of a prolifick, generating 
 nature. Money can beget money, and its offspring can be- 
 get more, and so on. Five shillings turned is six ; turned 
 again, it is seven and three pence ; and so on till it becomes 
 a hundred pounds. The more there is of it, the more it 
 produces every turning, so that the profits rise quicker and 
 quicker. 
 
 4. Remember that six pounds a year is but a groat a day. 
 For this little sum (which may be daily wasted either in time 
 or expense unperceived) a man of credit may, on his own 
 security, have tha constant possession and use of a hundred 
 pounds. So much in stock, briskly turned by an industrious 
 man, produces great advantage. 
 
 5. Remember this saying, " The good paymaster is lord of 
 another man's purse." He who is known to pay punctually 
 and exactly at the time he promises, may at any time, and on 
 any occasion, raise all the money his friends can spare. This 
 is sometimes of great use. 
 
 6. After industry and frugality, nothing contributes more 
 to the raising of a young man in the world, than punctuality 
 and justice in all his dealings ; therefore, never keep borrow- 
 ed money an hour beyond the time you promised, lest a dis- 
 appointment shut up your friend's purse for ever. 
 
 7. The most trifling actions which affect a man's credit are 
 to be regarded. The sound of your hammer at five in the 
 morning, or nine at night, heard by a creditor, makes him 
 easy six months longer. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 73 
 
 8. But if he sees you at a billiard table, or hears your voice 
 at a tavern, when you should be at work, he sends for his 
 money the next day, and demands it before he can receive it 
 in a lump. 
 
 9. It shows, besides, that you are mindful of what you owe ; 
 it makes you appear a careful, as well as an honest man, and 
 that still increases your credit. 
 
 10. Beware of thinking all your own that you possess, 
 and of living accordingly. It is a mistake that many people 
 who have credit fall into. To prevent this, keep an exact 
 account, for some time, both of your expenses and your in- 
 come. 
 
 11. If you take the pains at first to mention particulars, it 
 will have this good effect ; you will discover how wonderfully 
 small, trifling expenses mount up to large sums, and will dis- 
 cern what might have been, and may, for the future, be saved, 
 without occasioning any great inconvenience. 
 
 12. In short, the way to wealth, if you desire it, is as 
 plain as the way to market. It depends chiefly on two 
 words, industry and frugality ; that is, waste neither time 
 nor money, but make the best use of both. Without industry 
 and frugality, nothing will do, and with them, every thing 
 will do. 
 
 13. He who gets all he can honestly, and saves all he gets, 
 (necessary expenses excepted,) will certainly become rich; if 
 that Being who governs the world, to whom all should look 
 for a blessing on their honest endeavours, doth not, in his wise 
 providence* otherwise determine. 
 
 Parental Affection. Story of the Bear. 
 
 -I HE white bear of Greenland and Spitzbergen is con- 
 siderably larger than the brown bear of Europe, or the black 
 bear of America. This bear is often seen on floats of ice, 
 several leagues at sea. The following is copied from the 
 journal of a voyage for making discoveries towards the North 
 Pole, 
 
 7 
 
74 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 2. Early in the morning, the man at the mast-head gave 
 notice that three bears were making their way very fast over 
 the ice, and directing their course towards the ship. They 
 had, probably, been invited by the blubber of a sea-horse, which 
 the men had set on fire, and which was burning on the ice at 
 the time of their approach. 
 
 3. They proved to be a she bear and her two cubs ; but 
 the cubs were nearly as large as the dam. They ran eager- 
 ly to the fire, and drew out from the flames part of the flesh 
 of the sea-horse, which remained unconsumed, and ate it vo- 
 raciously. 
 
 4. The crew from the ship threw great pieces of the flesh, 
 which they had' still left, upon the ice, which the old bear 
 carried away singly, laid every piece before her cubs, and, 
 dividing it, gave each a share, reserving but a small por- 
 tion to herself. As she was carrying away the last piece, 
 they levelled their muskets at the cubs, and shot them both 
 dead ; and, in her retreat, they wounded the dam, but not 
 mortally. 
 
 5. It would have drawn tears of pity from any but un- 
 feeling minds, to have marked the affectionate concern man- 
 ifested by this poor beast in the moments of her expiring 
 young. Though she was sorely wounded, and could but 
 just crawl to the place where they lay, she carried the 
 lump of flesh she had fetched away, as she had done the 
 others before, tore it in pieces, and laid it down before them ; 
 and, when she saw they refused to eat, she laid her paws first 
 upon one, and then upon the other, and endeavoured to raise 
 them up. 
 
 6. All this while it was piteous to hear her moan. When 
 she found she could not stir them, she weni: off, and, when at 
 some distance, looked back, and moaned ; and, that not avail- 
 ing to entice them away, she returned, and, smelling around 
 them, began to lick their wounds. 
 
 7. She went off a second time, as before, and, having 
 crawled a few paces, looked again behind her, and for some 
 time stood moaning. But «s|jll her cubs not rising to follow 
 her, she returned to them a^ain, and, with signs of inexpress- 
 ible fondness, went round one, and round the other, pawing 
 them, and moaning. 
 
 8. Finding, at last, that they were cold and lifeless, she 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 75 
 
 raised her head towards the ship, and growled her resentment 
 at the murderers ; which they returned with a volley of mus- 
 ket balls. She fell between her cubs, and died licking their 
 wounds. 
 
 9. What child can read this interesting story, and not feel 
 in his heart the warmest emotions of gratitude for the stron- 
 ger and more permanent tenderness he has experienced from 
 his parents ; while, at the same time, he feels his displeasure 
 arising towards those who treat with wanton barbarity any of 
 the brute creation ! 
 
 The Victim. An Indian Story. 
 
 A. CHACT AW INDIAN, having one day expressed him- 
 self in the most reproachful terms of the French, and called 
 the Collapissas their dogs and their slaves, one of this nation, 
 exasperated at his injurious expressions, laid him dead upon 
 the spot. 
 
 2. The Chactaws, then the most numerous and the most 
 warlike tribe on the continent, immediately flew to arms. 
 They sent deputies to New-Orleans to demand from the French 
 governour the head of the savage, who had fled to him for pro- 
 tection. 
 
 3. The governour offered presents as an atonement, but 
 they were rejected with disdain; and they threatened to 
 exterminate the whole tribe of the Collapissas. To pacify 
 this fierce nation, and prevent the effusion of blood, it 
 was at length found necessary to deliver up the unhappy 
 Indian. 
 
 4. The Sieur Ferrand, commander of the German posts, 
 on the right of the Mississippi, was charged with this mel- 
 ancholy commission. A rendezvous* was, in consequence, 
 appointed between the settlement of the Collapissas and the 
 German posts, where the mournful ceremony was conducted 
 in the following manner : — 
 
 5. The Indian victim, whose name was Mingo, was pro- 
 duced. He rose up, and, agreeably to the custom of the peo- 
 ple, harangued the assembly to the following purpose : — 
 
 6. "I am a true man ; that is to say, I fear not death ; 
 * The English pronunciation is renfde-vooz, the French is ron'da-voo. 
 
76 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 but I lament the fate of my wife and four infant children, 
 whom 1 leave behind in a very tender age. I lament, too, my 
 father and my mother, whom I have long maintained by hunt- 
 ing. Them, however, I recommend to the French, since on 
 their account I now fall a sacrifice." 
 
 7. Scarcely had he finished this short and pathetick ha- 
 rangue, when the old father, struck with the filial affection of 
 his son, arose, and thus addressed himself to his audience : — 
 
 8. " My son is doomed to death ; but he is young, and vig- 
 orous, and more capable than I to support his mother, his wife, 
 and four infant children. It is necessary, then, that he remain 
 upon earth to protect and provide for them. As for me, who 
 draw towards the end of my career, I have lived long enough. 
 May my son attain to my age, that he may bring up my tender 
 infants. I am no longer good for any thing ; a few years more 
 or less are to me of small importance. I have lived as a man. 
 I will die as a man. I therefore take the place of my son." 
 
 9. At these words, which expressed his parental love and 
 greatness of soul in the most touching manner, his wife, 
 his son, his daughter-in-law, and the little infants, melted 
 into tears around this brave, this generous old man. He em- 
 braced them for the last time, exhorted them to be ever faith- 
 ful to the French, and to die rather than betray them by any 
 mean treachery unworthy of his blood. " My death," con- 
 cluded he, " I consider necessary for the safety of the nation, 
 and I glory in the sacrifice." 
 
 10. Having thus delivered himself, he presented his 
 head to the kinsmen of the deceased Chactaw ; and they 
 accepted it. He then extended himself over the trunk of a 
 tree, when, with a hatchet, they severed his head from his 
 body. 
 
 Extract from the Speech of the Irish Orator 
 Phillips, previous to proposing as a Toast, at a 
 fublick Dinner in Ireland, " The immortal Mem- 
 „ory of George Washington." 
 
 J. HE mention of America has never failed to fill me with 
 the most lively emotions. In my earliest infancy, that ten- 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 77 
 
 der season, when impressions, at once the most permanent 
 and the most powerful, are likely to be excited, the story of 
 her then recent struggle raised a throb in every heart that 
 loved liberty, and wrung a reluctant tribute even from discom- 
 fited* oppression. 
 
 2. I saw her spurning the luxuries that would ener'vate, 
 and the legions that would intimidate ; dashing from her lips 
 the poisoned cup of European servitude, and, through all the 
 vicissitudes of her protracted conflict, displaying a magnanim- 
 ity that defied misfortune, and a moderation that gave new 
 grace to victory. It was the first vision of my childhood ; it 
 will descend with me to the grave. 
 
 3. But if, as a man, I venerate the mention of America, 
 what must be my feelings towards her as an Irishman 1 
 Never, while memory remains, can Ireland forget the home 
 of her emigrant, and the asylum of her exile. No matter 
 whether their sorrows were real or imaginary ; that must be 
 reserved for the scrutiny of those whom the lapse of time shall 
 acquit of partiality. ^ 
 
 4. It is for the men of other ages to investigate and record 
 it ; but, surely, it is for the men of every age to hail the hos- 
 pitality that received the shelterless, and love the feeling that 
 befriended the unfortunate. Search creation round, where 
 can you find a country that presents so sublime a view, so in- 
 teresting an anticipation ? 
 
 5. The oppressed of all countries, the martyrs of every 
 creed, the innocent victim of despotick arrogance or superstW 
 tious frenzy, may there find refuge ; his industry encouraged, 
 his piety respected, his ambition animated ; with no restraint 
 but those laws which are the same to all, and no distinction 
 but that which his merit may originate. 
 
 6. Who can deny that the existence of such a country pre- 
 sents a subject for human congratulation ! Who can deny that 
 its gigantickf advancement offers a field for the most rationalf 
 conjecture ! W^ho shall say that, when, in its follies or its 
 crimes, the old world may have interred all the pride of its 
 power, and all the pomp of its civilization, human nature may 
 not find its destined renovation in the new ! 
 
 7. For myself, I have no doubt of it ; I have not the least 
 doubt that, when our temples and our tro'phies shall hava 
 
 # Pronounced dis-cum ! fit-ed. t ii-gan'tiek. \ rasNvn-al. 
 
 7* 
 
78 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 mouldered into dust ; when the glories of our name shall be 
 but the le'gend of tradition, philosophy will rise again in the 
 sky of her Franklin, and glory rekindle at the urn of her 
 Washington. * 
 
 8. Is this the vision of a romantick fancy ? Is it even im- 
 probable ? Is it half so improbable as the events which for 
 the last twenty years have rolled, like successive tides, over 
 the surface of the European world, each erasing the impres- 
 sion that preceded it ? 
 
 9. Thousands upon thousands, sir, I know there are, who 
 will consider this supposition as wild and whimsical ; but they 
 have dwelt with little reflection upon the records of the past. 
 They have but ill observed the never-ceasing progress of na- 
 tional rise and national ruin. 
 
 10. They form their judgment on the deceitful stability of 
 the present hour, never considering the innumerable monar- 
 chies and republicks in former days, apparently as permanent, 
 whose very existence is now become a subject of speculation, 
 I had almost said of scepticism.* 
 
 11. I appeal to history. Tell me, thou reverend chronicler 
 of the grave, can ambition, wealth, commerce or heroism 
 secure to empire the permanency of its possessions ? Alas ! 
 Troy thought so once, yet 4 the land of Priam lives only in 
 song ? Thebes thought so once, yet her hundred gates have 
 crumbled, and her monuments are as the dust they were vain- 
 ly intended to commemorate ! 
 
 12. So thought Palmyra ; but where is she X So thought 
 the countries of Demosthenes and Leonidas ; yet Sparta is 
 trampled by the timid slave, and Athens insulted by the ser- 
 vile Ottoman. The days of their glory are as if they had 
 never been; and the island, which was then a speck, rude 
 and neglected in the barren ocean, now rivals the ubiquityf 
 of their commerce, the glory of their arms, the force of their 
 philosophy, the eloquence of their senate, and the inspiration 
 of their bards ! 
 
 13. Who shall say, then, contemplating the past, that Eng- 
 land, proud and powerful as she appears, may not one day 
 be what Athens is, and the young America yet soar to be 
 what Athens was ! Who shall say, that, when the Euro- 
 pean column shall have mouldered, and the night of barba- 
 
 * Pronounced skep'te-sizm. f u-bik'we-te. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 79 
 
 rism obscured its very ruins, that mighty continent may not 
 emerge from the horizon, to rule for its time sovereign of the 
 ascendant ! 
 
 Conclusion of the foregoing Speech. 
 
 &UCH, sir, is the natural progress of human operations, 
 and such the Unsubstantial mockery of human pride. But I 
 should, perhaps, apologize for this digression. The tombs are 
 at best a sad, although an instructive subject. At all events, 
 they are ill suited to such an hour as this. I shall endeavour 
 to atone for it, by turning to a theme which tombs cannot in- 
 urn, nor revolutions alter. 
 
 2. It is the custom of your board — and a noble one it is — to 
 deck the cup of the gay with the garland of the great. Allow 
 me to add one flower to the chaplet, which, though it sprang in 
 America, is no exotick : virtue planted it, and it is naturalized 
 every where. 
 
 3. I see you concur with me, that it matters very little 
 what immediate spot may be the birth-place of such a man as 
 Washington. No people can claim, no country can appro- 
 priate him. The boon of Providence to the human race, his 
 fame is eternity, and his residence creation. 
 
 4. Though it was the defeat of our arms, and the disgrace 
 of our policy, I almost bless the convulsion in which he had 
 his origin. In the production of Washington, it does really 
 appear as if nature was endeavouring to improve upon herself, 
 and that all the virtues of the ancient world were but so many 
 studies preparatory to the patriot of the new. 
 
 5. Individual instances no doubt there were ; splendid ex- 
 amples of some single qualification. Caesar was merciful ; 
 Scipio was continent ; Hannibal was patient ; but it was re- 
 served for Washington to blend them all in one, and, like 
 the lovely master-piece of the Grecian artist, to exhibit in one 
 glow of associated beauty the pride of every model, and the 
 perfection of every master. 
 
 6. As a general, he marshalled the peasant into a veteran, 
 and supplied by discipline the absence of experience. As a 
 statesman, he enlarged the policy of the cabinet into the most 
 comprehensive system of general advantage ; and such was 
 
80 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 the wisdom of his views, and the philosophy of his counsels, 
 that to the soldier and the statesman he almost added the 
 character of the sage. 
 
 7. A conqueror, he was untainted with the crime of blood ; 
 a revolutionist, he was free from any stain of treason, for ag- 
 gression commenced the contest, and his country called him 
 to the command. Liberty unsheathed his sword, necessity 
 stained, victory returned it. 
 
 8. If he had paused here, history might have doubted what 
 station to assign him, whether at the head of her citizens or 
 soldiers, her heroes or her patriots. But the last glorious act 
 crowns his career and banishes all hesitation. Who, like Wash- 
 ington, after having emancipated a hemisphere, resigned its 
 crown, and preferred the retirement of domestick life to the 
 adoration of a land he might be almost said to have created ! 
 
 9. How shall we rank thee upon glory's page, 
 Thou more than soldier, and just less than sage ? 
 All thou hast been reflects less fame on thee, 
 Far less, than all thou hast forborne to be. 
 
 10. Such, sir, is the testimony of one not to be accused of 
 partiality in his estimate of America. Happy, proud Ameri- 
 ca ! The lightnings of heaven yielded to your philosophy ; 
 the temptations of earth could not seduce your patriotism. 
 — I have the honour, sir, of proposing to you as a toast, The 
 immortal memory of George Washington. 
 
 Example of Justice and Magnanimity. 
 
 A.MONG the several virtues of Aristi'des, that for which 
 he was most renowned was justice ; because this virtue is of 
 most general use, its benefits extending to a great number of 
 persons, as it is the foundation, and, in a manner, the soul of 
 every publick office and employment. 
 
 2. Themis'tocles, having conceived the design of sup- 
 planting the Lacedemonians, and of taking the government 
 of Greece out of their hands, in order to put it into those 
 of the Athenians, kept his eye and his thoughts continually 
 fixed upon that great project ; and, as he was not very nice 
 or scrupulous in the choice of his measures, whatever tended 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 81 
 
 towards accomplishing the end he had in view, he looked upon 
 as just and lawful. 
 
 3. On a certain day, he declared, in a full assembly of the 
 people, that he had a very important design to propose ; but 
 that he could not communicate it to the people, because its 
 success required it should be carried on with the greatest se- 
 crecy ; he, therefore, desired they would appoint a person to 
 whom he might explain himself upon the matter in question. 
 
 4. Aristi'des was unanimously fixed upon by the whole as- 
 sembly, who referred themselves entirely to his opinion of the 
 affair ; so great a confidence had they both in his probity and 
 prudence. 
 
 5. Themis'tocles, therefore, having taken him aside, told 
 him, the design which he had conceived was to burn the 
 fleet belonging to the rest of the Grecian states, which then 
 lay in a neighbouring port ; and by this mean Athens would 
 certainly become mistress of all Greece. 
 
 6. Aristi'des hereupon returned to the assembly, and only 
 declared to them, that, indeed, nothing could be more advan- 
 tageous to the commonwealth than Themis'tocles' project ; 
 but, at the same time, nothing in the world could be more un- 
 just. All the people unanimously ordained that Themis'tocles 
 should entirely desist from his project. 
 
 A Dialogue, showing the Folly and Inconsistency 
 of Duelling. 
 
 Mr. Fenton. JtiOW now, Nero ! why are you loading that 
 pistol I No mischief, I hope 1 
 
 Nerj. O no, Masser Fenton. I only going to fight de duel, 
 as dey call em, with Tom. 
 
 Mr. F. Fight a duel with Tom ! What has he done to you ? 
 
 Nero. He call me neger, neger, once, twice, three time, and 
 I no bear him, Masser Fenton. 
 
 Mr. F. But are you not a negro, Nero ? 
 
 Nero. Yes, Masser ; but den who wants to be told of what 
 one knows already ? 
 
 Mr. F. You would not kill a man, however, for telling so 
 simple a truth as that. 
 
82 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Nero, But den de manner, Masser Fenton, de manner ; him 
 every thing. Tom mean more him say, when he call Nero 
 names. 
 
 Mr. F. It is hard to judge of what a man means ; but if 
 Tom has insulted you, I have no doubt he is sorry for it. 
 
 Nero. Him say he sorry, very sorry ; but what him signify 
 when he honour gone ? No, Masser ; when de white man be 
 insulted, what him do ? he fight de duel. Den why de poor 
 African no fight de duel too 1 
 
 Mr. F. But do you know it is against the law to fight 
 duels 1 
 
 Nero. De white men fight, and de law no trouble himself 
 about dem. Why den he no let de African have de same 
 privilege I No, Masser Fenton, " Sauce for de goose, sauce 
 for de gander." 
 
 Mr. F. The white men contrive to evade the law, Nero, so 
 that it cannot punish them. 
 
 Nero. Ah, Masser Fenton, de law no fair den ; him let go 
 de rogue who outwit him, and take hold of de poor African, 
 who no know what him be. 
 
 Mr. F. It is a pity that those who know what is right do 
 not set a better example. But, tell me, were you not always 
 good friends before ? 
 
 Nero. O yes, Masser Fenton, we always good friend, kine 
 friend, since we boy so high, and dat make me ten time mad 
 to be call neger, neger. O him too much for human nature 
 to bear ! 
 
 Mr. F. But how do you expect to help the matter by fight- 
 ing with Tom ? 
 
 Nero. When I kill Tom, he no blackguard me more, dat 
 sartain. And den nobody else call Nero name, I know. 
 
 Mr. F. True, Nero. But suppose Tom should kill you ? 
 Tom, you know, never misses his mark. 
 
 Nero. How I Masser Fenton. What dat you say 1 
 
 Mr. F. Suppose Tom should kill you, instead of your kill- 
 ing him ; what would people think then ? You know you are 
 as liable to be killed as he is. 
 
 Nero. O no, Masser Fenton, de right always kill de wrong 
 when he fight de duel. 
 
 Mr. F. O no, Nero ; the chance, at best, is but equal ; and, 
 as bad men are more used to such business, I have no doubt 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 83 
 
 that the instances in which the injured party is slain, out- 
 number those where the aggressor has suffered. 
 
 Nero. Nero never tink of dat before. (To himself .) Tom 
 good marksman ; I no good. Nero no kill Tom, Tom kill 
 Nero, dat sartain. Poor Nero dead, de world say, dat good 
 for him ; and Nero no here to contradict him. Poor Nero 
 wife no home, no bread, no nottin now Nero gone. (Loud.) 
 What Nero do, Masser Fenton 1 How him save him honour ? 
 
 Mr. F. The only honourable course, Nero, is to forgive 
 your friend, if he has wronged you, and let your future good 
 conduct show that you did not deserve the wrong. 
 
 Nero. But what de world tink, Masser Fenton 1 He call 
 Nero coward, and say he no dare fight Tom. Nero no 
 coward, Masser Fenton. 
 
 Mr. F. You need not be ashamed of not daring to mur- 
 der your friend. But it is not your courage which is called 
 in question. It is a plain case of morality. The success 
 of a duel must still leave it undecided, while it adds an awful 
 crime and a tremendous accountability to the injury you have 
 already sustained. 
 
 Nero. True, Masser Fenton, but de world no make de 
 proper distinctions. De world no know Nero honest. 
 
 Mr. F. Nor does the world know that you are not honest. 
 But what do you mean by the world, Nero ? 
 
 Nero. Why, all de gentlemen of honour, Masser Fenton. 
 
 Mr. F. You mean all the unprincipled men who happen 
 to hear of this affair. Their number must be limited, and 
 they are just such as you should care nothing about. 
 
 Nero. How I Masser Fenton. Dis all new to Nero. 
 
 Mr. F. The number of people who approve of duels, com 
 pared with those who consider them deliberate murder, is*very 
 small, and amongst the enemies of duelling are always found 
 the wise, humane and virtuous. Would you not wish to have 
 these on your side ? 
 
 Nero. O yes, Masser Fenton. 
 
 Mr. F. Well, then, think no more of duelling, for the du- 
 ellist not only outrages the laws of his country and humanity, 
 but he incurs the censure of good men, and the vengeance of 
 that God who has said, " thou shalt not kill." 
 
 Nero. O Masser Fenton, take de pistol fore Nero shoot 
 himself. Let de world call Nero neger, neger, neger ; what 
 
84 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Nero care ? de name not half so bad as murderer, and Nero 
 take care he no deserve either. 
 
 Mr. F. Your resolution is a good one, and happy would it 
 be for all the gentlemen of honour, as you call them, if they 
 would make the laws of God, and the dictates of common 
 sense, a part of their code. 
 
 Speech of Mr. Pitt, in the British Parliament, on 
 the Subject of the Slave Trade. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 ▼ ▼ HILE I regret the ill success which has hitherto 
 attended my efforts on this subject, I am consoled with the 
 thought that the house has now come to a resolution declara- 
 tive of the infamy of the slave trade. 
 
 2. The only question now is, on the continuance of this 
 , traffick ; a traffick of which the very thought, is beyond all 
 
 human endurance ; a traffick which even its friends think so 
 intolerable that it ought to be crushed. Yet the abolition of 
 it is to be resolved into a question of expediency. 
 
 3. Its advocates, in order to continue it, have deserted 
 even the principles of commerce ; so that, it seems, a traffick 
 in the liberty, the blood, the life of human beings, is not 
 to have the advantage of the common rules of arithmetick, 
 which govern all other commercial dealings. 
 
 4. The point now in dispute is the continuance for one 
 year. As td those who are concerned in this trade, a year 
 will not be of any consequence ; but will it be of none* to 
 the unhappy slaves ? It is true, that, in the course of com- 
 mercial concerns in general, it is said sometimes to be be- 
 neath the magnanimity of a man of honour to insist on a 
 scrupulous exactness, in his own favour, upon a disputed 
 item in accounts. 
 
 5. But does it make any part of our magnanimity to be 
 exact in our own favour in the traffick of human blood ? If 
 I could feel that any calculation "upon the subject were to be 
 made in this way, the side on which I should determine 
 would be in favour of the unhappy suiferers ; not of those 
 who oppressed them. 
 
 H Pronounced nun. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 85 
 
 6. But this one year is only to show the planters that 
 parliament is willing to be liberal to them ! Sir, I do not un- 
 derstand complimenting away the lives of so many human 
 beings. I do not comprehend the principle on which a few 
 individuals are to be complimented, and their minds set at 
 rest, at the expense and total sacrifice of the interest, the 
 security, the happiness of a whole quarter of this world, which, 
 from our foul practices, has, for a vast length of time, been a 
 scene of misery and horrour, 
 
 7. I say, because I feel, that, in continuing this trade, you 
 are guilty of an offence beyond your power to atone for ; and, 
 by your indulgence to the planters, thousands of human be- 
 ings are to be consigned to misery. 
 
 8. Every year in which you continue this trade, you add 
 thousands to the catalogue of misery, which, if you could 
 behold in a single instance, you would revolt with horrour 
 from the scene ; but the size of the misery prevents you from 
 beholding it. Five hundred out of one thousand, who are 
 obtained in this traffick, perish in this scene of horrour, and 
 are brought miserable victims to their graves. 
 
 9. The remaining part of this wretched group are tainted - 
 both in body and mind, covered with disease and infection, 
 carrying with them the seeds of pestilence and insurrection 
 to your islands. 
 
 10. Let me then ask the house, whether they can derive 
 any advantage from these doubtful effects of a calculation on 
 the continuance of the traffick ? and whether two years will 
 not be better than three for its continuance ? 
 
 11. For my part, I feel the infamy of the trade so heav- 
 ily, the impolicy of it so clearly, that I am ashamed not to 
 have been able to have convinced the house to abandon it 
 altogether at an instant ; to pronounce with one voice the 
 immediate and total abolition. There is no excuse for us. 
 It is the very death of justice to utter a syllable in support 
 of it. 
 
 12. I know, sir, I state this subject with warmth. I 
 should detest myself for the exercise of moderation. I 
 canno^ without suffering every feeling, and every passion, 
 that ought to rise in the cause of humanity, to sleep within 
 me, speak coolly upon such a subject. And did they feel as 
 I think they ought, I am sure the decision of the house 
 
 8 
 
86 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 would be with us for a total and immediate abolition of this 
 abominable traffick. 
 
 13. In short, unless I have misunderstood the subject, 
 and unless some reasons should be offered much super iour 
 to any I have yet heard, I shall think it the most singular 
 act that ever was done by a deliberative assembly, to refuse 
 to assent to the proposed amendment. It has been by a 
 resolution declared to be the first object of their desire, the first 
 object of their duty, and the first object of their inclination. 
 
 The Slaves. An Elegy. 
 
 xF late I paused upon the twilight plain 
 Of Fontenoy, to weep the free-born brave, 
 Sure fancy now may cross the western main, 
 And melt in sadder pity for the slave. 
 
 2. Lo, where to yon plantation drooping goes 
 A sable herd of human kind ! while near 
 Stalks a pale despot, and around him throws 
 The scourge, that wakes, that punishes the tear. 
 
 3. O'er the far beach the mournful murmur strays, 
 And joins the rude yell of the tumbling tide, 
 
 As faint they labour in the solar blaze, < 
 To feed the luxury of British pride ! 
 
 4. E'en at this moment, on the burning gale, 
 Floats the weak wailing of the female tongue ; 
 And can that sex's softness nought avail ? 
 Must feeble woman shriek amid the throng 1 
 
 5. O cease to think, my soul, what thousands die 
 By suicide, and toil's extreme despair ; 
 Thousands, who never raised to Heaven the eye ; 
 Thousands, who feared no punishment but here. 
 
 6. Are drops of blood the horrible manure, 
 That fills with luscious juice the teeming cane ? 
 And must our fellow-creatures thus endure, 
 For traffick vile, the indignity of pain 1 
 
 7. Yes, their keen sorrows are the sweets we blend 
 With the green beverage of our morning meal, 
 
 The while to love meek mercy we pretend, 
 Or for fictitious ills affect to feel. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 87 
 
 8. Yes, 'tis their anguish mantles in the bowl, 
 Their sighs excite the Briton's drunken joy ; 
 Those ignorant sufferers know not of a soul, 
 That we, enlightened, may its hopes destroy. 
 
 9. And there are men, who, leaning on the laws, 
 What they have purchased claim a right to hold. 
 Cursed be the tenure, cursed its cruel cause : 
 Freedom's a dearer property than gold ! 
 
 10. And there are men, with shameless front have said 
 " That nature formed the negroes for disgrace ; 
 
 " That on their limbs subjection is displayed ; 
 " The doom of slavery stamped upon their face." 
 
 11. Send your stern gaze from Lapland to the Line, 
 And every region's natives fairly scan ; 
 
 Their forms, their force, their faculties combine, 
 And own the vast variety of man ! 
 
 12. Then why suppose yourselves the chosen few, 
 To deal oppression's poisoned arrows round ; 
 
 To gall, with iron bonds, the weaker crew, 
 Enforce the labour, and inflict the wound ? 
 
 13. 'Tis sordid interest guides you. Bent on gain, 
 In profit only can ye reason find ; 
 
 And pleasure too ; but urge no more in vain 
 The selfish subject to the social mind. 
 
 14. Ah ! how can he, whose daily lot is grief, 
 Whose mind is vilified beneath the rod, 
 Suppose his Maker has for him relief? 
 
 Can he believe the tongue that speaks of God ? 
 
 15. For when he sees the female of his heart, 
 And his loved daughters, torn by lust away, 
 His sons the poor inheritors of smart, — 
 
 Had he religion, think ye he could pray ? 
 
 16. Alas ! he steals him from the loathsome shed, 
 What time moist midnight blows her venomed breath, 
 And, musing how he long has toiled and bled, 
 Drinks the dire balsam of consoling death ! 
 
 17. Haste, haste, ye winds, on swiftest pinions fly, 
 Pre from this world of misery he go, 
 
 Tell him his wrongs bedew a nation's eye, 
 Tell him Britannia blushes for his wo ! 
 
88 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 18. Say, that, in future, negroes shall be blest, 
 Ranked e'en as men, and men's just rights enjoy ; 
 Be neither sold, nor purchased, nor opprest ; 
 
 No grief shall wither, and no stripes destroy ! 
 
 19. Say that fair freedom bends her holy flight 
 To cheer the infant, and console the sire ; 
 
 So shall he, wondering, prove, at last, delight, 
 
 And in a throb of ecstasy expire. 
 
 . 20. Then shall proud Albion's crown, where laurels twine, 
 
 Torn from the bosom of the raging sea, 
 
 Boast, 'midst the glorious leaves, a gem divine, 
 
 The radiant gem of pure humanity ! 
 
 The Humane Indian. 
 
 A.N Indian, who had not met with his usual success in 
 hunting, wandered down to a plantation among the back set- 
 tlements in Virginia, and, seeing a planter at his door, asked 
 for a morsel of bread, for he was very hungry. The planter 
 bid him begone, for he would give him none. 
 
 3. " Will you give me a cup of your beer ?" said the Indian. 
 "No, you shall have none here," replied the planter. "But I 
 am very faint," said the savage, " Will you give me only a 
 draught* of cold water 1" " Get you gone, you Indian dog ; you 
 shall have nothing here," said the planter. 
 
 3. It happened, some months after, that the planter went 
 on a shooting party up into the woods, where, intent upon 
 his game, he missed his company, and lost his way ; and, 
 night coming on, he wandered through the forest, till he 
 espied an Indian wigwam. 
 
 4. He approached the savage's habitation, and asked h*irn 
 to show him the way to a plantation on that side the country. 
 " It is too late for you to go there this evening, sir," said the 
 Indian ; "but if you will accept of my homely fare, you are 
 welcome." 
 
 5. He then offered him some venison, and such other 
 refreshment as his stock afforded, and, having laid some 
 bear-skins for his bed, he desired that he would repose 
 
 * Pronounced draft. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 89 
 
 himself for the night, and he would awake him early in the 
 morning, and conduct him on his way. 
 
 6. Accordingly in the morning they set off, and the In- 
 dian led him out of the forest, and put him into the road 
 which he was to pursue ; but, just as they were taking leave, 
 he stepped before the planter, and, turning round, staring full 
 in his face, asked him whether he recollected his features. 
 The planter was now struck with shame and confusion, when 
 he recognised in his kind protector the Indian whom he had 
 so harshly treated. 
 
 7. He confessed that he knew him, and was full of excus- 
 es for his brutal behaviour ; to which the Indian only repli- 
 ed ; " When you see poor Indians fainting for a cup of cold 
 water, don't say again, l Get you gone, you Indian dog.' " 
 The Indian then wished him well on his journey, and left 
 him. It is not difficult to say which of these two had the 
 best claim to the name of Christian. 
 
 The Mammoth. 
 
 \JF all the quadrupeds which have hitherto been describ- 
 ed, the Mammoth is undoubtedly much the largest. This 
 animal is not known to have an existence any where at 
 present. We judge of it only from its bones and skeletons, 
 which are of an unparalleled size, and are found in Siberia, 
 Russia, Germany and North America. 
 
 2. On the Ohio, and in many places farther north, tusks, 
 grinders and skeletons, which admit of no comparison with 
 any other animal at present known, are found in vast num- 
 bers ; some lying on the surface of the earth, and some a 
 little below it. 
 
 3. A Mr. Stanley, taken prisoner by the Indians near the 
 mouth of the Tennessee, relates, that, after being transferred 
 from one tribe to another, he was at length carried over the 
 mountains west of the Missouri to a river which runs west- 
 wardly ; that these bones abounded there ; and that the natives 
 said the animal was still existing in the northern parts of 
 their country. 
 
 8* 
 
90 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 4. Notwithstanding the great number of bones which have 
 been found, the living animal has never been discovered. 
 There is, however, one instance on record of the preservation 
 of the carcass. In the year 1799, a fisherman observed a 
 strange mass projecting from an ice-bank in Siberia, the na- 
 ture of which he did not understand, and which was so high 
 in the 'bank as to be beyond his reach. 
 
 5. He watched it for several years, and, in the spring of the 
 fifth, the enormous carcass became entirely disengaged from 
 the ice, and fell down upon a sand-bank forming part of the 
 coast of the Arctic or Frozen Ocean. 
 
 6. In 1806, the whole skeleton remained upon the sand- 
 bank, although the carcass had been greatly mutilated by the 
 white bears, dogs and other animals, which had feasted upon 
 it about two years. The skin was extremely thick and heavy, 
 and so much remained as required the exertions of ten men 
 to carry it away. 
 
 7. As the natives in the vicinity have no traditional histo- 
 ry of this enormous animal, the conclusion is, that it was 
 imbedded in the ice many ages ago, and, from its perfect 
 preservation, this probably took place at the very moment of 
 its death. 
 
 8. A delegation of warriours from the Delaware tribe hav- 
 ing visited the governour of Virginia, during the late revolu- 
 tion, on matters of business, after these had been discussed 
 and settled in council, the governour asked them some ques- 
 tions relative to their country, and, among others, what they 
 knew or had heard of the animal whose bones were found 
 at the Salt-licks on the Ohio. 
 
 9. The chief speaker immediately put himself into an 
 attitude of oratory, and, with a pomp suited to what he con- 
 ceived the elevation of his subject, informed him, " That it 
 was a tradition handed down from their fathers, that, in an- 
 cient times, a herd of these tremendous animals came to the 
 Big-bone-licks, and began a universal destruction of the bears, 
 deer, elks, buffaloes, and other animals, which had been cre- 
 ated for the use of the Indians. 
 
 10. " That the Great Man above, looking down, and see- 
 ing this, was so enraged, that he seized his lightning, de- 
 scended to the earth, seated himself on a neighbouring 
 mountain, on a rock, on which his seat and the print of his 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 91 
 
 feet are still to be seen, and hurled his bolts among them, 
 till the whole were slaughtered, except the big bull, who, pre- 
 senting his forehead to the shafts, shook them off as they fell ; 
 but, missing one at length, it w r ounded him in the side ; where- 
 upon, springing round, he bounded over the Wabash, the 
 Illinois, and finally over the great lakes, where he is living at 
 this day." 
 
 Fashionable Education misapplied. 
 
 JDaME GREENFIELD made her appearance about 
 half a century ago : her parents were honest, plain, homely 
 people, and the occupation of a farmer had not been changed 
 in the family for several generations. She was particularly 
 thrifty, and retired in her habits, for which reason she was not 
 married until nearly thirty-five, and her sole offspring was a 
 daughter. 
 
 2. Matters throve so well with the industrious couple, that 
 Miss was looked up to as a sort of heiress, and the most val- 
 uable property in their whole stock and crop. Mrs. Green- 
 field's name was Margery, and her honest husband called her 
 Madge ; but this was thought too vulgar for the pearl of the 
 family, and she was accordingly called Margaret, which 
 swelled itself, in time, into Margaretta. 
 
 3. Worthy Mrs. Greenfield could milk, make butter and 
 puddings, spin and cook, but all these occupations were be- 
 neath Miss Greenfield. They were calculated to spoil her 
 white hands, and Pa, as Miss called him, was determined to 
 make a lady of her. 
 
 4. Now Ma had no accomplishments : her writing was 
 cramped, and not very legible ; she read with an up-country 
 tone, and generally sung through her nose. A travelling ac- 
 tress, however, taught Miss to play on the piano forte, to 
 dance reels and cotillons, and speak barbarous French. 
 Beside this, she embroidered on satin, and wrote an affected 
 taper hand. 
 
 5. About this time, Ma quitted the stage of life, but Miss 
 Margaret did not mourn for her very violently. Some natural 
 
92 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 tears, to be sure, she shed, but the world was all before her, 
 and she did not permit her affliction to unfit her for entering 
 upon it. - 
 
 6. Very unluckily, the flour trade flourished to an unnatural 
 extent about this time, and the farmer's pride rose with the 
 price of grain ; so that Miss Margaret's earnest request was 
 granted, and she was sent to a most extravagant boarding- 
 school in the city, where the daughters of the richest citizens 
 were sent. 
 
 7. Her companions looked down upon her at first, but she 
 soon excelled in accomplishments, and played the girl of fash- 
 ion so naturally, that she soon ingratiated herself with the 
 females in high life, and used to lend her pocket money, and 
 dress at such an extravagant rate, that the farmer's stacks 
 would often shrink into a bonnet, or a shawl. 
 
 8. The period of her education being concluded, she re- 
 turned in sullen misery to the farm, and turned up her nose 
 at every object she saw, from the barn door chicken to the 
 family cat, and from Doll, the dairy maid, up to the worthy 
 parson of the parish. 
 
 9. Of Pa she got desperately ashamed, and cousin Nathan 
 was directed, with the most ineffable contempt, never to pre- 
 sume to call her Peggy again as long as he lived. Pa was 
 ordered out of the parlour to smoke his pipe, and forced every 
 day to dress for dinner ; for Miss Margaretta's superiority was 
 so evident, that she became absolute mistress over the whole 
 establishment. 
 
 10. The old family side-board was sold for a trifle, and 
 three hundred dollars given for a piano forte. Reels and 
 country dances were exploded for waltzes, and barbarous 
 French was deserted for softer Italian. Even painting on 
 satin was superseded by the more sentimental employment of 
 writing poetry. 
 
 11. Margaretta next sold four cows and a yoke of oxen, 
 to purchase a pair of blood horses, and had a desperate 
 quarrel with Pa, because he would not give Joe, the stable 
 boy, a crimson liv'ery to ride after her. Tea was served to 
 her in bed, and she excused herself from going to church, 
 because Pa's pew was less conspicuous than one or two 
 others. 
 
 12. Whilst at the boarding-school, she had not been with- 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 93 
 
 out admirers. A gentleman in a curricle had dropped a billet 
 at her feet, and she had received a proposal to elope with a 
 young rake ; but her heart leaned towards an officer in the 
 army, who had challenged the youthful prodigal on her ac- 
 count. With this undefined sentiment, she came down to the 
 country, and had the advantage of being in love, which, with 
 a melancholy cast of countenance, added greatly to the rest of 
 her irresistibility. 
 
 13 She now, therefore, vegetated, as she called it, at Pa's, 
 for six months, with the sole consolation of giving her sighs 
 to the gale, reading novels all night, lying in bed all day, com- 
 posing a sonnet to a butterfly, and occasionally corresponding 
 with some of her devoted friends in the city. 
 
 14. In the course of the summer, she had sufficient influ- 
 ence over Pa's mind to induce him to leave his business, and 
 take her to the Springs, where she had the mingled delight 
 of seeing herself admired, and poor Pa heartily laughed at. 
 She now adopted the more romantic name of Margaretta 
 Rosetta Greville, the first and last being thus metamorphosed, 
 and the middle name adopted from a novel. 
 
 15. About this time, Pa's affairs were getting into disor- 
 der, and, since his wife's death, he had taken to drinking, and 
 intrusted every thing to his servants. Finally, he had the 
 misfortune to be thrown from his horse in a state of intoxica- 
 tion, and died soon after the accident. 
 
 16. On investigation, his effects were found insufficient 
 to cover his debts, when honest Nathan offered to pay them, 
 and marry cousin Peg into the bargain ; which proposal was 
 rejected with scorn. While visiting her city friends, whose 
 affection was wonderfully cool, and fell far below the degree 
 of warmth she had been led to expect from their letters, 
 she incurred expenses which she was unable to pay or to 
 prevent. 
 
 17. At last, after shifting from one lodging to another, as 
 her landlady became clamorous for pay, her credit gone, and 
 too proud to return to her native town, or ask relief of her 
 formerly despised cousin, she welcomed the poor-house as a 
 retreat from what she considered an ungrateful world, and 
 soon became the maniack whose shrieks attracted my atten- 
 tion, and led me to inquire into her history. 
 
 18. Parents, whose overweening fondness leads you to 
 
94 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 adopt the course of education which we have just sketched, 
 learn from the fate of Margaret Greenfield, that home is the 
 proper nursery of virtue and affection, and a useful educa- 
 tion, adapted to their condition in life, is the only one which 
 can promote the mutual happiness of yourselves and chil- 
 dren. 
 
 Singular Adventure of General Putnam. 
 
 11 HEN General Putnam first moved to Pomfret, in Con- 
 necticut, in the year 1739, the country was new, and much 
 infested with wolves. Great havock was made among the 
 sheep by a she wolf, which, with her annual whelps, had 
 for several years continued in that vicinity. The young 
 ones were commonly destroyed by the vigilance of the 
 hunters, but the old one was too sagacious to be ensnared 
 by them. 
 
 2. This wolf, at length, became such an intolerable nui- 
 sance, that Mr. Putnam entered into a combination with five 
 of his neighbours to hunt alternately until they could de- 
 stroy her. Two, by rotation, were to be constantly in pur- 
 suit. It was known, that, having lost the toes from one 
 foot by a steel-trap, she made one track shorter than the 
 other. 
 
 3. By this vestige, the pursuers rec'ognised, in a light snow, 
 the route of this pernicious animal. Having followed her to 
 Connecticut river, and found she had turned back in a direct 
 course towards Pomfret, they immediately returned, and, by 
 ten o'clock the next morning, the bloodhounds had driven her 
 into a den, about three miles distant from the house of Mr. 
 Putnam. 
 
 4. The people soon collected with dogs, guns, straw, fire 
 and sulphur, to attack the common enemy. With this ap- 
 paratus, several unsuccessful efforts were made to force 
 her from the den. The hounds came back badly wounded, 
 and refused to return. The smoke o'f blazing straw had 
 no effect. Nor did the fumes of burnt brimstone, with 
 which the cavern was filled, compel her to quit the retire- 
 ment. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 95 
 
 5. Wearied with such fruitless attempts, (which had brought 
 the time to ten o'clock at night,) Mr. Putnam tried once more 
 to make his dog enter, but in vain : he proposed to his negro 
 man to go down into the cavern, and shoot the wolf. The 
 negro declined the hazardous service. 
 
 6. Then it was that their master, angry at the disappoint- 
 ment, and declaring that he was ashamed of having a coward 
 in his family, resolved himself to destroy the ferocious beast, 
 lest she should escape through some unknown fissure of the 
 rock. 
 
 7. His neighbours strongly remonstrated against the peril- 
 ous enterprise ; but he, knowing that wild animals were in- 
 timidated by fire, and having provided several strips of birch 
 bark, the only combustible material which he could obtain, 
 which would afford light in this deep and darksome cave, 
 prepared for his descent. 
 
 8. Having, accordingly, divested himself of his coat and 
 waistcoat, and having a long rope fastened round his legs, 
 by which he might be pulled back at a concerted signal, 
 he entered, head foremost, with the blazing torch in his 
 hand. 
 
 9. Having groped his passage till he came to a horizon- 
 tal part of the den, the most terrifying darkness appeared in 
 front of the dim circle of light afforded by his torch. It 
 was silent as the house of death. None but monsters of the 
 desert had ever before explored this solitary mansion of 
 horrour. 
 
 10. He, cautiously proceeding onward, came to an ascent, 
 which he slowly mounted on his hands and knees, until he 
 discovered the glaring eye-balls of the wolf, who was sitting 
 at the extremity of the cavern. Startled at the sight of fire, 
 she gnashed her teeth, and gave a sullen growl. 
 
 11. As soon as he had made the necessary discovery, he 
 kicked the rope, as a signal for pulling him out. The people 
 at the mouth of the den, who had listened with painful anxi- 
 ety, hearing the growling of the wolf, and supposing their 
 friend to be in the most imminent danger, drew him forth 
 with such celerity, that he was stripped of his clothes, and 
 severely bruised. 
 
 12. After he had adjusted his clothes, and loaded his gun 
 with nine buck shot, holding a torch in one hand, and the 
 
96 TH£ AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 musket in the other, he descended a second time. When 
 he drew nearer, than before, the wolf, assuming a still more 
 fierce and terrible appearance, howling, rolling her eyes, snap- 
 ping her teeth, and dropping her head between her legs, 
 was evidently in the attitude, and on the point of springing 
 at him. 
 
 13. At this critical instant, he levelled, and fired at her 
 head. Stunned with the shock, and suffocated with the smoke, 
 he immediately found himself drawn out of the cave. But, 
 having refreshed himself, and permitted the smoke to dissi- 
 pate, he went down the third time. 
 
 14. Once more he came within sight of the wolf, who 
 appeared very passive : he applied the torch to her nose, 
 and, perceiving her dead, he took hold of her ears, and 
 then kicking the rope, (still tied round his legs,) the people 
 above, with no small exultation, dragged them both out 
 together. 
 
 I— «— — - an— i — — — m I — — — — — *, 
 
 Extract from Dr. Joseph Warren's Oration, de- 
 livered at Boston, March 5, 1772. 
 
 5 - 
 
 JL HE voice of your fathers' blood cries to you from the 
 ground, " My sons, scorn to be slaves! In vain we met 
 the frowns of tyrants ; in vain we crossed the boisterous ocean, 
 found a new world, and prepared it for the happy residence 
 of liberty ; in vain we toiled ; in vain we fought ; we bled in 
 vain, if you, our offspring, want valour to repel the assaults 
 of her invaders !" 
 
 2. Stain not the glory of your worthy ancestors ; but, like 
 them, resolve never to part with your birthright. Be wise in 
 your deliberations, and determined in your exertions for the 
 preservation of your liberty. 
 
 3. Follow not the dictates of passion, but enlist your- 
 selves under the sacred banner of reason ; use every meth- 
 od in your power to secure your rights ; at least, prevent 
 the curses of posterity from being heaped upon your mem- 
 ories. 
 
 4. If you, with united zeal and fortitude, oppose the tor- 
 rent of oppression ; if you feed the true fire of patriotism 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 97 
 
 burning in your breasts ; if you, from your souls, despise the 
 most gaudy dress w>ich slavery can wear ; if \ou really 
 prefer the lonely cottage, while blessed with liberty, to gilded 
 palaces, surrounded with the (ensigns of slavery, you may 
 have the fullest assurance that tyranny, with her whole ac- 
 cursed train, will hide her hideous head in confusion, shame 
 and despair. 
 
 5. If you perform your part, you must have the strongest 
 confidence, that the same Almighty Being, who protected 
 your pious and venerable forefathers, who enabled them to 
 turn a barren wilderness into a fruitful field, who so often 
 made bare his arm for their salvation, will still be mindful of 
 their offspring. 
 
 6. May this Almighty Being graciously preside in all our 
 councils. May he direct us to such measures as he himself 
 shall approve, and be pleased to bless. May we be ever fa- 
 voured of God. May our land be a land of liberty, the seat 
 of virtue, the asylum of the oppressed, "*a name and a praise 
 in the whole earth," until the last shock of time shall bury 
 the empires of the world in undistinguished ruin. 
 
 Self-Interest. — Dialogue between two Neigh- 
 bours. 
 
 Derby. IjrOOD morning, neighbour Scrapewell. I have 
 half a dozen miles to ride to-day, and should be extremely 
 obliged* if you would lend me your gray mare. 
 
 Scrapewell. I should be happy, friend Derby, to oblige you, 
 but am under a necessity of going immediately to the mill 
 with three bags of corn. My wife wants the meal this very 
 morning. 
 
 Der. Then she must want it still, for I can assure you the 
 mill does not go to-day. I heard the miller tell Will Davis 
 that the water was too low. 
 
 Scrape. You don't say so ? That is quite unlucky; for, in 
 that case, I shall be obliged to gallop off to town for the 
 meal. My wife would comb my head for me if I should 
 neglect it. 
 
 * Pronounced o-bly'g-'d. 
 
98 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Der. I can save you this journey : I have plenty of meal 
 at home, and will lend your wife as much as she wants. 
 
 Scrape. Ah* neighbour Derby, I am sure your meal 
 will never suit my wife. You can't conceive how whimsical 
 she is. 
 
 Der. If she were ten times more whimsical than she is, 
 I am certain she would like it ; for you sold it to me yousself, 
 and you assured me it was the best you ever had. 
 
 Scrape. Yes, yes, that's true, indeed ; I always have the 
 best of every thing. You know, neighbour Derby, that no 
 one is more ready to oblige than I am ; but I must tell you 
 the mare this morning refused to eat hay ; and truly I am 
 afraid she will not carry you. 
 
 Der. Oh, never fear; I will feed her well with oats on the 
 roach 
 
 Scrape. Oats, neighbour ; oats are very dear. 
 
 Der. They are so indeed ; but no matter for that. When 
 I have a good job in view, I never stand for trifles. 
 
 Scrape. It is very slippery ; and I am really afraid she will 
 fall, and break your neck. 
 
 Der. Give yourself no uneasiness about that. The mare 
 is certainly sure-footed; and, besides, you were just now 
 talking yourself of galloping her to town- 
 
 Scrape. Well, then, to tell you the plain truth, though I 
 wish to oblige you with all my heart, my saddle is torn quite 
 in pieces, and I have just sent my bridle to be mended. 
 
 Der. Luckily, I have both a bridle and a saddle hanging 
 up at home. 
 
 Scrape. Ah, that may be; but I am sure your saddle will 
 never fit my mare. 
 
 Der. Why then I'll borrow neighbour Clodpole's. 
 
 Scrape. Clodpole's! His will no more fit than yours 
 does.* 
 
 Der. At the worst, then, I will go to my good friend, 
 squire Jones. He has half a score of them ; and I am sure 
 he will lend me one that will fit her. 
 
 Scrape.You know, friend Derby, that no one is more will- 
 ing to oblige his neighbours than I am. I do assure you the 
 beast should be at your service with all my heart ; but she 
 has not been curried, I believe, for three weeks past, 
 * Pronounced duz. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 99 
 
 Her foretop and mane want combing and cutting very much. 
 If any one should see her in her present plight, it would ruin 
 the sale of her. 
 
 Der. O, a horse is soon curried, and my son Sam shall 
 despatch her at once. 
 
 Scrape. Yes, very likely ; but I this moment recollect the 
 creature has no shoes on. 
 
 Der. Well, is there not a blacksmith hard by ? 
 
 Scrape. What, that tinker of a Dobson ! I would not trust 
 such a bungler to shoe a goat. No, no; none but uncle 
 Tom Thumper is capable of shoeing my mare. 
 
 Der. As good luck will have it, then, I shall pass right by 
 his door. 
 
 Scrape. "[Calling to his son.] Timothy, Timothy ! Here's 
 neighbour Derby, who wants the loan of the gray mare to 
 ride to town to-day. You know the skin was rubbed off 
 her back last week a hand's breadth or more. [He gives 
 Tim a ivink.] However, I believe she's well enough by 
 this time. You know, Tim, how ready I am to oblige my 
 neighbours, And, indeed, we ought to do all the good we 
 can in this world. We must certainly let neighbour Derby 
 have her, if she will possibly answer his purpose. Yes, 
 yes ; I see plainly by Tim's countenance, neighbour Derby, 
 that he's disposed to oblige you. I would not have refused 
 you the mare for the worth of her. If I had, I should 
 have expected you would have refused me in your turn. 
 None of my neighbours can accuse me of being backward 
 in doing them a kindness. Come, Timothy, what do you 
 say ? 
 
 Tim. What do I say, father ! Why, I say, sir, that I am 
 no less ready than you are to do a neighbourly kindness. 
 But the mare is by no means capable of performing the 
 journey. About a hand's breadth did you say, sir? Why, 
 the skin is torn from the poor creature's back of the big- 
 ness of your great brimmed hat. And, besides, I have 
 promised her, as soon as she is able to travel, to Ned Saun- 
 x ders, to carry a load of apples to market. 
 
 Scrape. Do you hear that, neighbour? I am very sorry 
 matters turn out thus. I would not have disobliged you for 
 the price of two such mares. Believe me, neighbour Derby, 
 I am really sorry for your sake, that matters turn out thus. 
 
100 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 v 
 
 Der. And I as much for yours, neighbour Scrapewell, 
 for, to tell you the truth, I received a letter this morning from 
 Mr. Griffin, who tells me, if I will be in town this day, he 
 will give me the offer of all that lot of timber, which he is 
 about cutting down, upon the back of Cobble-Hill ; and I 
 intended you should have shared half of it, which would have 
 been not less than fifty dollars in your pocket. But — 
 
 Scrape. Fifty dollars did you say ? 
 
 Der. Aye, truly did I ; but, as your mare is out of order, I'll 
 go and see if I can get old Roan, the blacksmith's horse. 
 
 Scrape. Old Roan ! My mare is at your service, neighbour. 
 Here, Tim, tell Ned Saunders he can't have the mare. Neigh- 
 bour Derby wants her ; and I won't refuse so good a friend any 
 thing he asks for. 
 
 Der. But what are you to do for meal ? 
 
 Scrape. My v/ife can do without it this fortnights, if you 
 want the mare so long. 
 
 Der. But then your saddle is all in pieces. 
 
 Scrape. I meant the old one. I have bought a new one 
 since, and you shall have the first use of it. 
 
 Der. And you would have me call at Thumper's, and get 
 her shod ? 
 
 Scrape. No, no; I had forgotten to tell you, that I let 
 neighbour Dobson shoe her last week by way of trial ; and, 
 to do him justice, I must own he shoes extremely well. 
 
 Der. But if the poor creature has lost so much skin from 
 off her back — 
 
 Scrape. Poh, poh ! That is just one of our Tim's large 
 stories. I do assure you, it was not at first bigger than my 
 thumb nail ; and I am certain it has not grown any since. 
 
 Der. At least, however, let her have something she will 
 eat, since she refuses hay. 
 
 Scrape. She did, indeed, refuse hay this morning; but 
 the only reason was that she was crammed full of oats. You 
 have nothing to fear, neighbour ; the mare is in perfect trim ; 
 and she will skim you over the ground like a bird. I wish 
 you a good journey, and a profitable job. 
 
THE AxMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 101 
 
 On Profane Swearing. 
 
 -T EW evil habits are of more pernicious consequence, or 
 overcome with more difficulty, than that very odious one 
 of profane curbing and swearing. It cannot be expected 
 that the force of moral principles should be very strong upon 
 any one who is accustomed, upon every trivial occasion, and 
 frequently without any occasion at all, to slight the precepts 
 and the character of the Supreme Being. 
 
 2. When we have lost any degree of respect for the 
 Author of our existence, and the concerns of futurity, and 
 can bring the most awful appellations into our slightest 
 conversation, merely by way of embellishing our foolish and 
 perhaps fallacious narratives, or to give a greater force to 
 our little resentments, conscience will soon lose its influence 
 upon our minds. 
 
 3. Nothing but the fear of disgrace, or a dread of human 
 laws, will restrain any person, addicted to common swearing, 
 from the most detestable perjury. For, if a man can be 
 brought to trifle with the most sacred things in his common 
 discourse, he cannot surely consider them of more conse- 
 quence when his interest leads him to swear falsely for his 
 own defence or emolument. 
 
 4. It is really astonishing how imperceptibly this vice 
 creeps upon a person, and how rootedly he afterwards ad- 
 heres to it. People generally begin with using onfy slight 
 exclamations, and which seem hardly to carry the appear- 
 ance of any thing criminal ; and so proceed on to others, till 
 the most shocking oaths become familiar. 
 
 5. And when once the habit is confirmed, it is rarely ever 
 eradicated. The swearer loses the ideas which are attached 
 to the words he makes use of, and therefore execrates his 
 friend, when he means to bless him ; and calls God to wit- 
 ness his intention of doing things, which he know& he has no 
 thoughts of performing in reality. 
 
 6. A young gentleman with whom I am intimately ac- 
 quainted, and who possesses many excellent qualifications, 
 but is unhappily in a declining state of health, and evidently 
 tending rapidly to the chambers of death, has been from his 
 
 9 * 
 
102 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 childhood so addicted to the practice of swearing in his com- 
 mon conversation, that even now I am frequently shocked by 
 his profaning the name of that sacred Being, before whom he, 
 most probably, will soon be obliged to appear. 
 
 7. It must surely be exceedingly painful to a sensible 
 heart, feeling for the best interests of a valuable friend, and 
 otherwise excellent acquaintance, to observe the person he so 
 highly regards confirmed in such a shocking habit, even 
 while standing in the most awful situation in which it is pos- 
 sible for a human creature to be placed. 
 
 8. Almost every other vice affords its votaries some pre- 
 tences of excuse, from its being productive of present pleasure, 
 or affording a prospect of future advantage ; but the profane 
 swearer cannot even say that he feels any satisfaction, or 
 that he hopes to meet with any benefit from this foolish 
 habit. 
 
 9. But let not the force of habit be urged as an excuse 
 for its continuance. As well might the highwayman, who 
 is unacquainted with any honest employment, expect, on that 
 account, to be allowed to plunder every passenger he meets 
 with impunity. The following anecdote will prove that 
 this habit is not so inveterate that it cannot instantly be 
 checked. 
 
 10. In the presence of men who are his superiours, 
 the swearer is never profane. "Why did you cut short 
 your oath V 1 said a gentleman to a man who was notorious- 
 ly profane. " I was afraid the king, who was present, would 
 hear me," said the swearer. " Why, then," said the gentleman, 
 " do you not fear to be heard by the King of kings, who is 
 always present V 1 
 
 The Triumph of Virtue. 
 
 A MERCHANT of Provence, in France, of a most 
 amiable character, but of narrow circumstances, met with 
 some considerable losses in trade, and became a bankrupt. 
 Being reduced to penury and want, he went to Paris to seek 
 some assistance. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 103 
 
 2. He waited on all his old customers in trade, repre- 
 sented to them his misfortunes, which he had taken every 
 method to avoid, and begged them to enable him to pursue 
 his business, assuring those to whom he was indebted, that 
 his only wish was to be in a condition to pay them, and 
 that he should die contentedly, could he but accomplish that 
 wish. 
 
 3. Every one he had applied to felt for his misfortunes, and 
 promised to assist him, excepting one, to whom he owed a 
 thousand crowns ; and who, instead of pitying his misfortunes, 
 threw him into prison. 
 
 4. The unfortunate merchant's son, who was about twenty- 
 two years of age, being informed of the sorrowful situation of 
 his father, hastened to Paris, threw himself at the feet of the 
 unrelenting creditor, and, drowned in tears, besought him, in 
 the most affecting expressions, to condescend to restore to 
 him his father ; protesting to him, that, if he would not throw 
 obstacles in the way to his father's re-establishing his affairs, 
 of the possibility of which they had great reason to hope, he 
 should be the first man paid. 
 
 5. He implored him to have pity on his youth, and to 
 have some feelings for the misfortunes of an aged mother, 
 encumbered with eight children, reduced to want, and near- 
 ly on the point of perishing. Lastly, that, if these consid- 
 erations were not capable of moving him to pity, he en- 
 treated him, at least, to permit Mm to be confined in prison 
 instead of his father, in order that he might be restored to his 
 family. 
 
 6. The youth uttered these expressions in so affecting 
 a manner, that the creditor, struck with so much virtue and 
 generosity, at once softened into tears, and, raising the youth 
 from his humble posture, " Ah ! my son," said he, " your father 
 shall be released. So much love and respect as you have 
 shown for him makes me ashamed of myself. I have car- 
 ried this matter too far ; but I will endeavour for ever to 
 efface the remembrance of it from your mincfe 
 
 7. a I have an only daughter, who is worthy of you : she 
 would do as much for me as you have done for your father. 
 I will give her to you ; and, with her, all my fortune. Accept 
 the offer I make you, and let us hasten to your father to re« 
 lease him, and ask his consent." 
 
104 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Female Industry. 
 
 * t HAT a happy simplicity prevailed in ancient times, 
 when it was the custom for ladies, though of the greatest 
 distinction, to employ themselves in useful, and sometimes 
 laborious works ! Every one knows what is told us in 
 scripture to this purpose concerning Rebecca, Rachel, and 
 several others. 
 
 2. We read in Homer of princesses drawing themselves 
 water from springs, and washing with their own hands the 
 finest of the linen of their respective families. The sisters 
 of Alexander the Great, who were the daughters of a pow- 
 erful prince, employed themselves in making clothes for their 
 brothers. The celebrated Lucretia used to spin in the midst 
 of her female attendants. 
 
 3. Augustus, who was sovereign of the world, wore, for 
 several years together, no other clothes but what his wife 
 and sister made him. It was a custom in the northern parts 
 of the world, not many years ago, for the princesses, who 
 then sat upon the throne, to prepare several of the dishes at 
 every meal. 
 
 4. In a word, needle-work, the care of domestick affairs, 
 and a serious and retired life, is the proper function of 
 women ; and for this they were designed by Providence. 
 The depravity of the age has indeed affixed to these cus- 
 toms, which are very near as old as the creation, an idea of 
 meanness and contempt ; but, then, what has it substituted 
 in the room of them ? A soft indolence, a stupid idleness, 
 frivolous conversation, vain amusements, and a strong passion 
 for publick shows. 
 
 5. Let us compare these two characters, and pronounce 
 which of them may justly boast its being founded on good 
 sense, solid judgment, and a taste for truth and nature. 
 
 6. It must, nevertheless, be confessed, in honour of the 
 fair sex, and of the American ladies in particular, that 
 many among them, and those of the highest stations in life, 
 have made it not only a duty, but a pleasure, to employ 
 themselves in needle-work, not of a trifling, but of the most 
 serviceable kind ; and to make part of their furniture with 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 105 
 
 their own hands. I might also add, that great numbers of 
 them adorn their minds with agreeable, and, at the same time, 
 serious and useful studies. 
 
 The Lap-Dog.- — A Dialogue between two young 
 Ladies. 
 
 Eliza. ItjLISS Nancy, what child was that your aunt had 
 in her arms this morning, as she was walking in the mall ?* 
 
 Nancy. A child, Miss Eliza ! a child ! You don't think my 
 aunt would be seen walking in publick with a child in her 
 arms ! 
 
 Eli. Pray, Miss, where would be the harm ? I know she 
 has a beautiful pair of twins ; and I thought it might be one 
 of them, as it was partly covered with her cloak. 
 
 Nan. No, indeed — it was her lap-dog. 
 
 Eli. Upon my word, Nancy, you have mended the matter 
 mightily ! Your aunt is ashamed to be seen walking with a 
 child in her arms, but is not ashamed to be seen carrying a 
 paltry puppy through the streets ! Pray how much more val- 
 uable is a puppy than a child ? 
 
 Nan. Why, as to the real value, Eliza, I don't know but 
 a child should be prized the highest. Though my aunt 
 says she had rather part with both her twins than lose her 
 dear little Trip. But, you know, she would be taken for 
 one of the lower sort of women, if she were to lug a child 
 about with her ; whereas nothing makes her appear more 
 like a lady, than to be seen gallanting her little dog. And 
 Trip is none of your common curs, I assure you. His mother 
 was imported from Europe ; and it is said she once belonged 
 to a lady of nobility. You can't think what a sweet little 
 creature he is. My aunt nursed him wholly herself ever 
 ince he was a week old. 
 
 Eli. And who nursed the twins ? 
 
 Nan. They were put into the country with a very good 
 ♦voman. They have never been at home but once since they 
 were born. But their mamma visits them as often, at least, 
 as once a month. 
 
 * Pronounced nidi 
 
106 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Eli. Would she be willing to be as long absent from her 
 dear little Trip, as you call him ? 
 
 Nan. O no, indeed ! She would run crazy if she were 
 to lose him but for one day. And no wonder ; for he is the 
 most engaging little animal you ever saw. You would be di- 
 verted to see him drink tea out of the ladies' cups. And he 
 kisses his mistress delightfully ! My aunt says she would not 
 sleep a night without him for his weight in gold. 
 
 Eli. It is very noble in your aunt to pay such attention to 
 an object of so much consequence. He is certainly more 
 valuable than half a dozen children. Does your aunt expect 
 to teach him to talk ? 
 
 Nan. Talk ! why he talks already. She says she per- 
 fectly understands his language. When he is hungry, he 
 can ask for sweetmeats. When he is dry, he can ask for 
 drink. When he is tired of running on foot, he can ask to 
 ride ; and my aunt is never more happy than when she has 
 him in her arms ! 
 
 Eli. And yet she would not be seen with one of her own 
 children in her arms ! 
 
 Nan. Why that would be very vulgar, and all her acquaint- 
 ance would laugh at her. Children, you know, are always 
 crying ; and no ladies of fashion will ever admit them into 
 their company. 
 
 Eli. If children are always crying, little dogs are often 
 harking ; and which is the most disagreeable noise ? 
 
 Nan. Oh ! the barking of Trip is musick to all who hear 
 hinl. Mr. Fribble, who often visits my aunt, says he can 
 raise and fall the eight notes to perfection ; and he prefers 
 the sound of his voice to that of the harpsichord. It was he 
 who brought his mother from London ; and he says there 
 was not a greater favourite among all the dogs in posses- 
 sion of the fine ladies of court. And, more than all that, 
 he says Trip greatly resembles a spaniel* which belongs to 
 one of the royal family. Mr. Fribble and my aunt almost 
 quarrelled, last night, to see which should have the honour of 
 carrying the dear little favourite to the play. 
 
 Eli. After hearing so many rare qualifications of the little 
 quadruped, I do not wonder at your aunt's choice of a com- 
 panion ! I am not surprised she should set her affections 
 * Pronounced span'yel. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 107 
 
 upon a creature so deserving of all her care. It is to be wish- 
 ed her children might never come in competition with this 
 object of her affections. I hope she will continue to maintain 
 the dignity of her sex, and never disgrace the fashionable 
 circle to which she belongs, by neglecting her lap-dog for the 
 more vulgar employment of attending to her own offspring. 
 
 Ex'TRACT FROM THE ORATION OF THOMAS DaWES, Esq,. 
 
 Delivered at Boston, July 4, 1787. 
 
 -I- HAT education is one of the deepest principles of in- 
 dependence, need not be laboured in this assembly. In ar- 
 bitrary governments, where the people neither make the law, 
 nor choose those who legislate, the more ignorance the more 
 peace. 
 
 2. But, in a government where the people fill all the 
 branches of the sovereignty, intelligence is the life of liberty. 
 An American would resent his being denied the use of his 
 musket ; but he would deprive himself of a stronger safeguard, 
 if he should want that learning which is necessary to a knowl- 
 edge of nis constitution. 
 
 3. It is easy to see that our agrarian law, and the law of 
 education, were calculated to make republicans; to make 
 men. Servitude could never long consist with the habits of 
 such citizens. Enlightened minds and virtuous manners 
 lead to the gates of glory. The sentiment of indepen- 
 dence must have been connatural in the bosoms of Ameri- 
 cans, and, sooner or later, must have blazed out into publick 
 action. 
 
 4. Independence fits the soul of her residence for every 
 noble enterprise of humanity and greatness. Her radiant 
 smile lights up celestial ardour in poets and orators, who 
 sound her praises through all ages ; in legislators and philos- 
 ophers, who fabricate wise and happy governments as dedi- 
 cations to her fame : in patriots and heroes, who shed their 
 lives in sac'rifice to her divinity. 
 
 5. At this idea, do not our minds swell with the memory 
 of those whose godlike virtues have founded her most mag- 
 nificent temple in America? It is easy for us to maintain 
 
108 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 her doctrine, at this late day, when there is but one party 
 on the subject — an immense people. But what tribute shall 
 we bestow, what sa'cred paVan shall we raise over the tombs 
 of those who dared, in the face of unrivalled power, and with- 
 in the reach of majesty, to blow the blast of freedom through- 
 out a subject continent ? 
 
 6. Nor did those brave countrymen of ours only express the 
 emotions of glory; the nature of their principles inspired, 
 them with the power of practice ; and they offered their bo- 
 soms to the shafts of battle. Bunker's awful mound is the ca- 
 pacious urn of their ashes ; but the flaming bounds of the uni- 
 verse could not limit the flight of their minds. 
 
 7. They fled to the union of kindred souls ; and those who 
 fell at the straits of Thermopylae, and those who bled on the 
 heights of Charlestown, now reap congenial joys in the fields 
 of the blessed, 
 
 General Washington's Res'ig-na-tion. 
 
 Mr. President, 
 
 JL HE great events on which my resignation depended 
 having at length taken place, I have now the honour of offer- 
 ing my sincere congratulations to congress, and of presenting 
 myself before them, to surrender into their hands the trust 
 committed to me, and to claim the indulgence of retiring from 
 the service of my country. 
 
 2. Happy in the confirmation of our independence and 
 sovereignty, and pleased with the opportunity afforded the 
 United States of becoming a respectable nation, I resign, with 
 satisfaction, the appointment I accepted with diffidence ; a dif- 
 fidence in my abilities to accomplish so arduous a task, which, 
 however, was superseded by a confidence in the rectitude of 
 our cause, the support of the supreme power of the Union, and 
 the patronage of Heaven. 
 
 3. The successful termination of the war has verified 
 the most sanguine expectations ; and my gratitude for the 
 interposition of Providence, and the assistance I have re- 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 109 
 
 ceived from my countrymen, increases with every review of 
 the momentous contest. 
 
 4. While I repeat my obligations to the army in gene- 
 ral, I should do injustice to my own feelings not to acknowl- 
 edge, in this place, the peculiar services and distinguished 
 merits of the gentlemen who have been attached to my person 
 during the war. 
 
 5. It was impossible the choice of confidential officers to 
 compose my family should have been more fortunate. Per- 
 mit me. sir, to recommend, in particular, those who have con- 
 tinued in the service to the present moment, as worthy of the 
 favourable notice and pat'ronage of congress. 
 
 6. I consider it as an indispensable duty to close this 
 last solemn act of my official life, by commending the inter- 
 ests of our dearest country to the protection of Almighty God, 
 and those who have the superintendence of them to his holy 
 keeping. 
 
 7. Having now finished the work assigned me, I retire 
 from the great theatre of action ; and, bidding an affectionate 
 farewell to this august' body, under whose orders I have so 
 long acted, I here offer my commission, and take my leave of 
 all the employments of publick life. 
 
 G. WASHINGTON. 
 Dec. 23, 1783. 
 
 Speech of a Scythian Ambassador to Alexander. 
 
 ¥ f HEN the Scythian ambassadors waited on Alexander 
 the Great, they gazed on him a long time without speaking a 
 word, being, very probably, surprised, as they formed a judg- 
 ment of men from their air and stature, to find that his did 
 not answer the high idea they entertained of him from his 
 fame. 
 
 2. At last, the oldest of the ambassadors addressed him 
 thus : — " Had the gods given thee a body proportionable to thy 
 ambition, the whole universe would have been too little for 
 thee. With one hand thou wouldst touch the east, and with 
 the other the west ; and, not satisfied with this, thou wouldst 
 follow the sun, and know where he hides himself. 
 10 
 
110 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 3. " But what have we to do with thee ? We never set 
 foot in thy country. May not those who inhabit woods be 
 allowed to live, without knowing who thou art and whence 
 thou comest ? We will neither command over, nor submit to 
 any man. 
 
 4. " And that thou mayest be sensible what kind of people 
 the Scythians are, know that we received from Heaven, as a 
 rich present, a yoke of oxen, a ploughshare, a dart, a javelin 
 and a cup. These we make use of, both with our friends and 
 against our enemies. 
 
 5. " To our friends we give corn, which we procure by 
 the labour of our oxen ; with them we offer wine to the gods 
 in our cup ; and, with regard to our enemies, we com'bat* 
 them at a distance with our arrows, and near at hand with our 
 jav'elins.f 
 
 6. " But thou, who boastest thy coming to extirpate rob- 
 bers, art thyself the greatest robber upon earth. Thou hast 
 plundered all nations thou overcamest ; thou hast possessed 
 thyself of Lybia, invaded Syria, Persia and Bactriana ; thou 
 art forming a design to march as far as India, and now thou 
 comest hither to seize upon our herds of cattle. 
 
 7. " The great possessions thou hast only make thee covet 
 the more eagerly what thou hast not. If thou art a god, thou 
 oughtest to do good to mortals, and not deprive them of their 
 possessions. 
 
 8. "If thou art a mere man, reflect always on what thou 
 art. They whom thou shait not molest will be thy true 
 friends ; the strongest friendships being contracted between 
 equals,' and they are esteemed equals who have not tried their 
 strength against each other. But do not suppose that those 
 whom thou conquerest can love thee." 
 
 The Revenge of a great Soul. 
 
 DEMETRIUS POLIOR,CE y TES, who had done singu- 
 lar services for the people of the city of Ath'ens, on setting 
 out for a war in which he was engaged, left his wife and chil- 
 
 * Pronounced cum'baU t jav'lwz. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR 111 
 
 dren to their protection. He lost the battle, and was obliged 
 to seek security for his person in flight. 
 
 2. He doubted not, at first, but that he should find a safe 
 asylum among his good friends, the Athenians ; but those un- 
 grateful people refused to receive him, and even sent back to. 
 him his wife and children, under pretence that they, probably, 
 might not be safe in Athens, where the enemy might coma 
 and take them. 
 
 3. This conduct pierced* the heart of Demetrius ; for noth« 
 ing is so affecting to an honest mind, as the ingratitude of 
 those we love, and to whom we have done singular services. 
 Some time afterwards, this prince recovered his affairs, and 
 came with a large army to lay siege to Athens. 
 
 4. The Athenians, persuaded that they had no pardon to 
 expect from Demetrius, determined to die swordf in hand, 
 and passed a decree, which condemned to death those who 
 should first propose to surrender to that prince ; but they did 
 not recollect that there was but little corn in the city, and that 
 they would in a short time be in want of bread. 
 
 5. ^Vant soon made them sensible of their errour ; and, 
 after having suffered hunger for a long time, the most rea- 
 sonable among them said, " It would be better that Deme- 
 trius should kill us at once, than for us to die by the linger- 
 ing death of famine. Perhaps he will have pity on our wives 
 and children." They then opened to him the gates of the 
 city. 
 
 6. Demetrius, having taken possession of the city, ordered 
 that all the married men should assemble in a spacious place 
 appointed for the purpose, and that the soldiery, sword in hand, 
 should surround them. Cries and lamentations were then 
 heard from every quarter of the city ; women embracing their 
 husbands, children their parents, and all taking an eternal 
 farewell of each other. 
 
 7. When the^ married men were all thus collected, Deme- 
 trius, for whom an elevated situation was provided, reproach- 
 ed them for their ingratitude in the most feeling manner, in- 
 somuch that he himself could not help shedding tears. De- 
 metrius for some time remained silent, while the Athenians 
 expected, that the nest words he uttered would be to order his 
 soldiers to massacre them all. 
 
 * Pronounced peers'd. f sord. S 
 
112 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 8. It is hardly possible to say what must have been their 
 surprise, when they heard that good prince say, " I wish to 
 convince you how ungenerously you have treated me ; for 
 it was not to an enemy you have refused assistance, but to 
 a prince who loved you, who still loves you, and who wishes 
 to revenge himself only by granting your pardon, and by being 
 still your friend. Return to your own homes : while you have 
 been here, my soldiers have been filling your houses with pro- 
 visions." 
 
 CuDJOE, THE FAITHFUL AFRICAN. 
 
 A NEW-ENGLAND sloop, trading on the coast of Guin- 
 ea, in 1752, left a second mate, William Murray, sick on 
 shore, and sailed without him. Murray was at the house of a 
 black man named Cudjoe, with whom he had contracted an 
 acquaintance during their trade. 
 
 2. He recovered ; and, the sloop being gone, he continued 
 with his black friend till some other opportunity should offer 
 of his getting home. In the mean time, a Dutch ship came 
 into the road, and some of the blacks, coming on board of 
 her, were treacherously seized, and carried off as their slaves. 
 
 3. The relations and friends, transported with sudden 
 jage, ran to the house of Cudjoe, to take revenge by kill- 
 ing Murray. Cudjoe stopped them at the door, and demand- 
 ed what they wanted. " The white men," said they, " have car- 
 ried away our brothers and sons, and we will kill all white 
 men. Give us the white man you have in your house, for we 
 will kill him." 
 
 4. " Nay," said Cudjoe, " the white men who carried away 
 your relations are bad men ; kill them when you can take 
 them ; but this white man is a good man, and you must 
 not kill him." " But he is a white man," they cried ; " and the 
 white men are all bad men; we must kill them all." "Nay," 
 says he, " you must not kill a man who has done no harm, only 
 for being white. 
 
 5. " This man is my friend ; my house is his post ; I am 
 his soldier, and must fight for him ; you must kill me before 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 113 
 
 you can kill him. What good man will ever come agair. 
 under my roof, if I let my floor be stained with a good man': 
 blood V 
 
 6. The negroes, seeing his resolution, and being convinced 
 by his discourse that they were wrong, went away ashamed. 
 In a few days, Murray ventured abroad again with his friend 
 Cudjoe, when several of them took him by the hand, and told. 
 him they were glad they had not killed him ; for, as he was a 
 good meaning, innocent man, their god would have been very 
 angry, and would have spoiled their fishing. 
 
 The Indian Chief. 
 
 The following 1 poem is founded on a traditionary story, which is common on the 
 borders of the great fails of Niagara, although differing in some unimportant 
 particulars. 
 
 JL HE rain fell in torrents, the thunder rolled deep, 
 
 And silenced the cataract's roar ; 
 But neither the night nor the tempest could keep 
 The warriour chieftain on shore. 
 
 2. The war-shout has sounded, the stream must be crossed ; 
 
 Why lingers the leader afar ! 
 'Twere better his life than his glory be lost ; 
 He never came late to the war. 
 
 3. He seized a canoe as he sprang from the rock, 
 
 But, fast as the shore fled his reach, 
 The mountain wave seemed all his efforts to mock, 
 And dashed the canoe on the beach. 
 
 4. " Great Spirit," he cried, " shall the battle be given, 
 
 And all but their leader be there ? 
 May this struggle land me with them or in heaven !" 
 And he pushed with the strength of despair. 
 
 5. He has quitted the shore, he has gained the deep, 
 
 His guide is the lightning alone ; 
 But he felt not with fast, irresistible sweep, 
 The rapids were bearing him down. 
 
 6. But the cataract's roar with the thunder now vied ; 
 
 "O, what is the meaning of this!" 
 He spake, and just turned to the cataract's side, 
 As the lightning flashed down the abyss. 
 10 * 
 
114 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 7. All the might of his arm to one effort was given, 
 
 At self-preservation's command ; 
 But the treacherous oar with the effort was riven, 
 And the fragment remained in his hand. 
 
 8. " Be it so," cried the warriour, taking his seat, 
 
 And folding his bow to his breast ; 
 " Let the cataract shroud my pale corpse with its sheet, 
 And its roar lull my spirit to rest. 
 
 9. " The prospect of death with the brave I have borne ; 
 
 I shrink not to bear it alone • 
 I have often faced death when the hope was forlorn, 
 But I shrink not to face him with none." 
 
 10. The thunder was hushed, and the battle-field stained, 
 
 .^When the sun met the war- wearied eye, 
 But no trace of the boat or the chieftain remained, 
 Though his bow was still seen in the sky.* 
 
 Dialogue on Dress and Assurance. 
 
 George. tlOW are you, Dick ? Why, what's the matter, 
 boy ? Whose sins are you lamenting now ? 
 
 Richard. Yours, George. I cannot but tremble for you, 
 when I consider what must be the inevitable consequence of 
 your present line of conduct. 
 
 G. Pshaw, Dick ! Now don't; my good fellow, distress your- 
 self on my account, for I am determined to enjoy life, and 
 I should be sorry to have my enjoyment the source of pain to 
 an old friend. 
 
 R. What do you mean by enjoyment ? 
 
 G. Enjoyment ? Why, plenty of all the good things of 
 this world, and a comfortable sit-down now and then with one's 
 friends. 
 
 R. But do you not recollect that your resources are by 
 no means equal to your dress and other extraordinary ex- 
 penses ? 
 
 G. We bloods look to our dress for resources, and not to 
 our resources for dress, as you do. 
 * Rainbows may always be seen at the falls when the sun shines. See a de- 
 
 scription of the falls, at page 169. 
 
 7 
 Is, 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 115 
 
 R. Can you do this honestly ? 
 
 G. Hon-est-ly? (drawling it out.) We have no such word in 
 our vocabulary. 
 
 R. So it should seem. But, tell me, how do you contrive 
 to keep up such an appearance of wealth and fashion, when I 
 can barely subsist. What is the chief requisite ? 
 
 G. Assurance, my dear. Lay in a good stock of assurance, 
 and you will have a mine at your disposal. 
 
 R. But will assurance clothe me 1 
 
 G. Yes, and feed you too. Hark ye, Dick; if your 
 clothes are worn out, or unfashionable, go to a tailor, and or- 
 der a suit of the best cloth, to be sent to your lodgings. Say 
 nothing about the price, mind you ; say nothing about that ; 
 none but the vulgar, who intend to pay, ever say any thing 
 about the price. 
 
 JR. Well, but must not I pay for them ? 
 
 G. Pay for them ? No, man. When whip-stitch calls for his 
 money, order another suit. Try this expedient till he refuses 
 to work for you ; then swear at him for a troublesome puppy, 
 and forbid him your house. 
 • R. Clothes, however, are not all I shall need. 
 
 G. That's true, Dick, but they will procure every thing 
 else. What's a man without clothes ? A smooth shilling that 
 hardly passes for what it really weighs, while every body gives 
 currency to one fresh from the mint. Clothes, Dick, are a 
 sine qua non with us bloods. 
 
 R. How so 1 Every body appears to laugh at your fash- 
 ionable trim, and wonder how you dare appear so ridicu- 
 lous. 
 
 G. Yes, and yet the same people do us homage. No door 
 is closed against a fine coat ; few tradesmen inquire how we 
 came by it ; and where is the lady who does not prefer it to 
 an old, unfashionable one, let who will be in it 1 
 
 R. But still I should appear awkward in company. 
 
 G. Not if you have assurance. An impudent fellow may 
 do a thousand awkward things, which would ruin a modest 
 man. Nay, Dick, we sometimes have our blunders imitated. 
 You recollect the story of lord Spencer, who, losing the skirts 
 of his coat accidentally, had assurance enough to wear what 
 was left on his shoulders, and obtained the honour of intro- 
 ducing the garment which bears his name. 
 
116 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 R. He was more successful than the fox we read of in the 
 fable, who, having lost his tail, wished to persuade his breth- 
 ren of the inutility of that appendage. 
 
 G. He was ashamed of his loss, Dick. Depend upon 
 it, that fox wanted assurance. But my principles are gain- 
 ing ground fast, or how else can you account for the fact, that 
 men of threescore are turning fops, and most of the rising 
 generation attend to nothing but dress. Time was when the 
 long coat and surtout were the peculiar garb of manhood ; now, 
 no boy is without them. 
 
 R. You might add that drinking and tobacco, gaming and 
 debt, were once the vices of men, but now every fashionable 
 urchin can drink his bottle, smoke his cigar, and bet like a 
 gamester. Of debts I have nothing to add to the description 
 you have jusi ^iven me. 
 
 G. You have omitted one accomplishment, however. 
 The lad of fashion must swear a little. Nothing will show 
 one's consequence like a volley of oaths now and then. 
 But dress is the remote cause of all this. I am sorry to 
 own it, but you seldom see a man of sense who is a fop. 
 When you dress a calf's head, you must always take out the 
 brains. 
 
 R. But how do all these consequences proceed from 
 dress 1 
 
 G. I will tell you, since I have begun to reveal our se- 
 crets. The time was, Dick, when modesty was considered 
 an accomplishment in children, and deference to their su- 
 periours a duty. But now, almost as soon as they can walk, 
 children are sent to the dancing academy to get rid of their 
 modesty, and learn to disregard the presence of their elders 
 and superiours. 
 
 R. How does this affect their dress ? 
 
 G. The competition commences at school, and then, as 
 the tuition will all be lost without practice, and there is 
 some fear of the lad's relapsing into his former modesty, 
 he must be introduced into company, and frequent 7 balls 
 and assemblies, where dress is indispensable. And as, with 
 a genteel coat, and a thorough knowledge of the capacity of 
 his heels, he meets with a better reception than real worth 
 does in a plain garb, it is no wonder that so many of our 
 young men decorate their persons, instead of adorning their 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 117 
 
 minds, and parade at the corners of our streets, instead of at- 
 tending to their business or studies. 
 
 R. But is not all this an argument against dress ? 
 
 £r. Yes, Dick : but what has argument to do with fashion. 
 You might as well talk of reason to the idiot, who is not a sub- 
 ject of it. 
 
 R. Do you ever consider what the end of all this folly must 
 necessarily be 1 
 
 G. O, no ! Futurity is another word ice have nothing to do 
 with. But I have made my confessions, and have no idea of 
 hearing a lecture upon them. So good bye to you ; the first 
 glass I drink shall be to your health and reformation. 
 
 R. You had better continue thirsty, and promote your 
 own. I thank you, however, for the hints you have given 
 me ; and, I trust, in future, I shall remain contented with my 
 obscurity, and no longer envy those whose exteriour is their 
 only recommendation. 
 
 Part of the Speech of Publius Scipio to the Roman 
 Army, before the Battle of the Ticin. 
 
 A HAT you may not be unapprized, soldiers, of what sort 
 of enemies you are about to encounter, or what is to be fear- 
 ed from them, I tell you they are the very same, whom, in a 
 former war, you vanquished both by land and sea ; the same 
 from whom you took Sicily and Sardinia ; and who have been 
 these twenty years your tributaries. 
 
 2. You will not, I presume, march against these men with 
 only that courage with which you are wont* to face other en- 
 emies ; but with a certain anger and indignation, such as you 
 would feel if you saw your slaves on a sudden rise up in arms 
 against you. 
 
 3. But you have heard, perhaps, that, though they are 
 few in number, they are men of stout hearts and robust 
 bodies ; heroes of such strength and vigour as nothing is 
 able to resist. Mere effigies ! nay, shadows of men ! 
 wretches, emaciated with hunger and benumbed with cold, 
 
 * Pronounced xmnt. 
 
118 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 bruised and battered to pieces among the rocks and craggy 
 cliffs ; their weapons broken, and their horses weak and 
 foundered ! 2 
 
 4. Such are the cavalry, and such the infantry, with which 
 you are going to contend ; not enemies, but the fragments of 
 enemies. There is nothing which I more apprehend than 
 that it will be thought Hannibal was vanquished by the Alps 
 before we had any conflict with him. 
 
 5. I need not be in any fear that you should suspect me 
 of saying these things merely to encourage you, while in- 
 wardly I have different sentiments. Have I ever shown 
 any inclination to avoid a contest with this tremendous Han- 
 nibal ? and have I now met with him only by accident and 
 unawares ? or am I come on purpose to challenge him to the 
 combat ? 
 
 6. I would gladly try whether the earth, within these 
 twenty years, has brought forth a new kind of Carthagini- 
 ans ; or whether they be the same sort of men who fought 
 at the iE-ga'tes, and whom, at E'ryx, you suffered to redeem 
 themselves at eighteen denarii' per head ; whether this 
 Hannibal, for labours and journeys, be, as he would be 
 thought, the rival of Hercules ;* or whether he be, what his 
 father left him, a tributary, a vassal, a slave to the Roman 
 people. 
 
 7. Did not the consciousness of his wicked deed at Sa- 
 guntum torment him, and make him desperate, he would 
 have some regard, if not to his conquered country, yet 
 surely to his own family, to his father's memory, to the trea- 
 ty written with Amilcar's own hand. We might have starv- 
 ed them in Eryx ; we might have passed into A frica with 
 our victorious fleet, and, in a few days, have destroyed Car- 
 thage. 
 
 8. At their humble supplication, we pardoned them. We 
 released them when they were closely shut up without a possi- 
 bility of escaping. We made peace with them when they 
 were conquered.f When they were distressed by the African 
 war, we considered them, and treated them as a people under 
 our protection. 
 
 9. And what is the return they make us for all these fa- 
 vours ? Under the conduct of a hare-brained young man, 
 
 * Pronounced HZr'ku-leez. f kon'ker'd. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 119 
 
 tiiey come hither to overturn our state, and lay waste our 
 country. 
 
 10. I could wish, indeed, that it were not so ; and that 
 the war we are now engaged in concerned our glory only, 
 and not our preservation. But the contest at present is not 
 for the possession of Sicily and Sardinia, but of Italy itself. 
 Nor is there behind us another army, which, if we should not 
 prove the conquerors, may make head against our victorious 
 enemies. 
 
 11. There are no more Alps for them to pass, which might 
 give us leisure* to raise new forces. No, soldiers ; here you 
 must take your stand, as if you were just now before the walls 
 of Rome. Let every one reflect, that he is now to defend, 
 not his own person only, but his wife, his children, his help- 
 less infants. 
 
 12. Yet let not private considerations alone possess cur 
 minds. Let us remember that the eyes of the senate and 
 people of Rome are upon us ; and that, as our force and 
 courage shall now prove, such will be the fortune of that city, 
 and of the Roman empire. 
 
 Part of Hannibal's Speech to the Carthaginian 
 Army on the same Occasion. 
 
 \JN what side soever I turn my eyes, I behold all f 
 courage and strength. A veteran infantry : a most gallant 
 cavalry ; you, my allies, most faithful and valiant ; you, 
 Carthaginians, whom not only your country's cause, but the 
 justest anger, impels to battle. The hope, the courage of 
 assailants, is always greater than that of those who act upon 
 the defensive. 
 
 2. With hostilef banners displayed, you are come down 
 upon Italy. You bring the war. Grief, injuries, indigni- 
 ties, fire your minds, and spur you forward to revenge. 
 First, they demanded me ; that I, your general, should be 
 delivered up to them ; next, all of you who had fought at the 
 siege of Saguntum ; and we were to be put to death by ex- 
 cruciating tortures. 
 
 * Pronounced lee'zure. t hos't&. 
 
120 THE AMERICAN PPvECEPTOR. 
 
 3. Proud and cruel nation ! Every thing must be yours, 
 and at your disposal ! You are to prescribe to us with whom 
 we are to make war, with whom to "make peace ! You are 
 to set us bounds ; to shut us up between hills and rivers ; but 
 you are not to observe the limits which yourselves have fixed I 
 
 4. "Pass not the Ibe'rus." What next? " Touch not 
 the Saguntines ; Saguntum is upon the Jbe'rus ; move not a 
 step towards that city." Is it a small matter, then, that you 
 have deprived us of our ancient possessions, Sicily and Sar- 
 dinia ? You would have Spain too ! 
 
 5. Well, we shall yield Spain, and then you will pass 
 
 into Africa. Will pass, did I say 1 This very year, they 
 ordered one of their consuls into Africa, the other into Spain. 
 No, soldiers, there is nothing left for us but what we can vin- 
 dicate with our swords. 
 
 6. Come on, then. Be men. The Romans may, with 
 more safety, be cowards. They have their own country 
 behind them ; have places of refuge to flee to ; and are se- 
 cure from danger in the roads thither. But for you, there 
 is no middle fortune between death and victory. Let this be 
 but well fixed in your minds, and, once again, I say, you 
 are conquerors. 
 
 Extract from Dr. Belknap's Address to t^e Inhab- 
 itants of New-Hampshire, at the Close of his 
 History of that State. 
 
 Citizens of New-Hampshire, 
 
 III AVING spent above twenty years of my life with you, 
 and passed through various scenes of peace and war within 
 that time ; being personally acquainted with many of you, 
 both in your publick and private characters, and having an 
 earnest desire to promote your true interest, I trust you will 
 not think me altogether unqualified to give you a few hints 
 by way of advice. 
 
 2. You are certainly a rising state ; your numbers are 
 rapidly increasing ; and your importance in the political 
 scale will be augmented, in proportion to your improving 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 121 
 
 the natural advantages which your situation affords you, and 
 to your cultivating the intellectual and moral powers of your- 
 selves and your children. 
 
 3. The first article on which I would open my mind to 
 you is that of education. Nature has been as bountiful to 
 you as to any other people, in giving your children genius 
 and capacity. It is then your duty and your interest to culti- 
 vate their capacities, and render them serviceable to them- 
 selves and the community. 
 
 4. It was the saying of a great orator and statesman of an- 
 tiquity, that " The loss which the commonwealth sustains, 
 by a want of education, is like the loss which the year would 
 suffer by the destruction of the spring." 
 
 5. If the bud be blasted, the tree will yield no fruit. If 
 the springing corn be cut down, there will be no harvest. 
 So, if the youth be ruined through a fault in their education, 
 the community sustains a loss which cannot be repaired ; 
 " for it is too late to correct them when they are spoiled." 
 
 6. Notwithstanding the care of your legislators in enact- 
 ing laws, and enforcing them by severe penalties ; notwith- 
 standing the wise and liberal provision which is made by 
 some towns, and some private gentlemen in the state ; yet 
 there is still, in many plaoes, " a great and criminal neglect 
 of education." 
 
 7. You are, indeed, a very considerable degree better, in 
 this respect, than in the time of the late war ; but yet much 
 remains to be done. Great care ought to be taken, not 
 only to provide a support for instructers of children and 
 youth, but to be attentive in the choice of instructers : to 
 see that they be men of good understanding, learning and 
 morals ; that they teach by their example as well as by their 
 precepts ; that they govern themselves, and teach their pupils 
 the art of self-government. 
 
 8. Another source of improvement, which I beg leave to 
 recommend, is the establishment of social libraries. This 
 is the easiest, the cheapest, and most effectual mode of dif- 
 fusing knowledge among the people. For the sum of six 
 or eight dollars at once, and a small annual payment besides, 
 a man may be supplied with the means of literary improve- 
 ment during his life, and his children may inherit the 
 blessing. 
 
 11 
 
122 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 9. A few neighbours, joined together in setting up a libra- 
 ry, and placing it under the care of some suitable person, 
 with a very few regulations, to prevent carelessness and 
 waste, may render the most essential service to themselves 
 and to the community. 
 
 10. Books may be much better preserved in this way 
 than if they belonged to individuals ; and there is an advan- 
 tage in the social intercourse of persons who have read the 
 same books, by their conversing on the subjects which have 
 occurred in their reading, and communicating their observa- 
 tions one to another. 
 
 11. From this mutual intercourse, another advantage 
 may arise ; for the persons who are thus associated may 
 not only acquire, but originate knowledge. By studying na- 
 ture and the sciences ; by practising arts, agriculture and 
 manufactures, at the same time that they improve their 
 minds in reading, they may be led to discoveries and im- 
 provements, original and beneficial ; and, being already 
 formed into society, the^ may diffuse their knowledge, ripen 
 their plans, correct their mistakes, and promote the cause 
 of science and tiumanity in a very considerable degree. 
 
 12. The book of nature is always open to our view, and 
 we may study it at our leisure.* " 'Tis elder scripture, 
 writ by God's own hand." The earth, the air, the sea, the 
 rivers, the mountains, the rocks, the caverns, the animal 
 and vegetable tribes, are fraught with instruction. Nature 
 is not half explored ; and in what is partly known there are 
 many mysteries, which time, observation and experience 
 must unfold. 
 
 13. Every social library, among other books, should be 
 furnished with those of natural philosophy, botany, zoology, 
 chymistry, husbandry, geography and astronomy; that in- 
 quiring minds may be directed in their inquiries ; that they 
 may see what is known, and what still remains to be dis- 
 covered ; and that they may employ their leisure,* and tbeir 
 various opportunities, in endeavouring to add to the stock of 
 science, and thus enrich the world with their observations 
 and improvements. 
 
 14. Suffer me to add a few words on the use of spir- 
 ituous liquor , that bane of society, that destroyer of health, 
 
 * Pronounced kefzure. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 123 
 
 morals and property. Nature indeed has furnished her 
 vegetable productions with spirit ; but she has so combined 
 it with other substances, that, unless her work be tortured 
 by fire, the spirit is not separated, and cannot prove perni- 
 cious. Why should this force be put on nature, to make her 
 yield a noxious draught,* when all her original preparations 
 are salutary ? 
 
 15. The juice of the apple, the fermentation of barley, 
 and the decoction of spruce, are amply sufficient for the re- 
 freshment of man, let his labour be ever so severe, and his 
 perspiration ever so expensive. Our forefathers, for many 
 years after the settlement of the country, knew not the use 
 of distilled spirits. 
 
 16. Malt was imported from England, and wine from the 
 Western or Canary Islands, with which they were refresh- 
 ed, before their own fields and orchards yielded them a 
 supply. An expedition was once undertaken against a na- 
 tion of Indians, when there was but one pint of 'strong water 
 (as it was then called) in the whole army, and that was re- 
 served for the sick ; yet no complaint was made for want 
 of refreshment. 
 
 17. Could we but return to the primitive manners of our 
 ancestors, in this respect, we should be free from many of 
 the disorders, both of body and mind, which are now ex- 
 perienced. The disuse of ardent spirits would also tend to 
 abolish the infamous traffick in slaves, by whose labour this 
 baneful material is procured. 
 
 18. Divine Providence seems to be preparing the way for 
 the destruction of that detestable commerce. The insurrec- 
 tion of the blacks in the West Indies has already spread des- 
 olation over the most fertilef plantations, and greatly raised 
 the price of those commodities which we have been used to 
 import from thence. 
 
 19. If we could check the consumption of distilled spir- 
 its, and enter with vigour into the manufacture of maple 
 sugars, of which our forests would afford an ample supply, 
 the demand for West India productions might be diminish- 
 ed ; the plantations in those islands would not need fresh 
 recruits from Africa ; the planters would treat with human- 
 ity their remaining blacks; the market for slaves would 
 
 * Pronounced draft. \fer'tit. 
 
124 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 become less inviting ; and the navigation, which is now em- 
 ployed in the most pernicious species of commerce which ever 
 disgraced humanity, would be turned into some other channel. 
 
 20. Were I to form a picture of happy society, it would 
 be a town consisting of a due mixture of hills, valleys, and 
 streams of water. The land well fenced and cultivated ; 
 the roads and bridges in good repair ; a decent inn for the 
 refreshment of travellers, and for public entertainments. 
 The inhabitants mostly husbandmen ; their wives and daugh- 
 ters domestick manufacturers ; a suitable proportion of han- 
 dicraft workmen, and two or three traders ; a physician, and 
 lawyer, each of whom should have a farm for his support. 
 
 21. A clergyman of good understanding, of a candid dis- 
 position and exemplary morals ; not a metaphysical, nor a 
 polemical, but a serious and practical preacher. A school- 
 master who should understand his business, and teach his 
 pupils to govern themselves. A social library, annually in- 
 creasing, and under good regulation. 
 
 22. A club of sensible men, seeking mutual improvement. 
 A decent musical society. No intriguing politician, horse 
 jockey, gambler, or sot; but all such characters treated with 
 contempt. Such a situation may be considered as the most 
 favourable to Social happiness of any which this world *can 
 afford. 
 
 Quackery. A Dialogue. 
 
 Volatile. JL OUR humble servant, sir — walk in, sir — sit 
 down, sir — {bringing a chair.) My master will wait on you 
 in a moment, sir — he's busy despatching some patients, sir — 
 I'll tell him you are here, sir — Be back in a twinkling, sir. 
 
 Sinclair. No, no ; I will wait till he has done ; I wish to 
 consult him about — 
 
 Vol. Right, sir ; you could not have applied to a more able 
 physician. My master is a man that understands physick as 
 fundamentally as I do my mother tongue, sir. 
 
 Sin. He appears to have an able advocate in you. 
 
 Vol. I do not say this, sir, because he is my master ; but 
 'tis really a pleasure to be his patient ; and I should rather 
 die by his medicines than be cured by those of any other ; 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 125 
 
 for, whatever happens, a man may be certain that he has been 
 regularly treated ; and, should he die under the operation, his 
 heirs would have nothing to reproach him for. 
 
 Sin. That's a mighty comfort to a dead man. 
 
 Vol. To be sure, sir ; who would not wish to die method'- 
 ically ? Besides, he's not one of those doctors who husband 
 the disease of their patients. He loves to despatch business, 
 and, if they are to die, he lends them a helping hand. 
 
 Sin. There's nothing like despatch in business. 
 
 Vol. That's true, sir. What is the use of so much hemming 
 and hawing, and beating round the bush ? I like to know 
 the long and short of a distemper at once, 
 
 Sin. Right, undoubtedly. 
 
 Vol. Right ! Why, the rewere three of my children, whose 
 illness he did me the honour to take care of, who all died in 
 less than four days, when, in another's hands, they would have 
 languished three months. 
 
 Enter doctor. 
 
 Voh Sir, this gentleman is desirous of consulting 
 
 Doc. I perceive it sir ; he is a dying man. Do you eat 
 well, sir 1 
 
 Sin. Eat ! Yes, sir, perfectly well. 
 
 Dr. Bad, very bad ; the epigastrick region must be shock- 
 ingly disordered. How do you drink, sir ? 
 
 Sin. Nobody drinks better, sir. 
 
 Dr. So much the worse. The great appetition of frigid 
 and humid is an indication of the great heat and aridity with- 
 in. Do you sleep soundly ? 
 
 Sin. Yes, when I've supped heartily. 
 
 Dr. This indicates a dreadful torpidity of the system ; and, 
 sir, I pronounce you a dead man. After considering the di- 
 agnostick and prognostick symptoms, I pronounce you attack- 
 ed, affected, possessed and disordered by that species of ma- 
 nia termed hypochondria. 
 
 Vol. Undoubtedly, sir. My master never mistakes, sir. 
 
 Dr. But, for an incontestable diagnostick, you may perceive 
 his distempered ratiocination,* and other pathognomon'ick 
 symptoms of this disorder. 
 
 Vol What will you order him, sir ? 
 
 Dr. First, a dozen purges. 
 
 * Pronounced rash-e-ds-i-na'sMn. 
 
 n* 
 
126 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Vol But should these have no effect — ? 
 
 Dr. We shall then know the disease does not proceed from 
 the humours.* 
 
 Vol What shall we try next, sir ? 
 
 Dr. Bleeding, ten or fifteen ounces, twice a day. 
 
 Vol If he grow worse and worse, what then ? 
 
 Dr. It will prove the disease is not in his blood. 
 
 Vol What application would you then recommend ? 
 
 Dr. My infallible su'dorifick. Sweat him off five pounds 
 a day, and his case cannot long remain doubtful. 
 
 Vol I congratulate the gentleman upon falling into your 
 hands, sir. He must consider himself happy in having his 
 senses disordered, that he may experience the efficacy and gen- 
 tleness of the remedies you have proposed. 
 
 Sin. What does all this mean, gentlemen ? I do not un- 
 derstand your gibberish and nonsense. 
 
 Dr. Such injurious language is a diagnostick we wanted 
 to confirm our opinion of his distemper. 
 
 Sin. Are you crazy, gentlemen ? (Spite ^ n his hand, and 
 raises his cane.) 
 
 Dr. Another diagnostick, frequent sputation. 
 
 Sin. You had better be done, and make off. 
 
 Dr. Another diagnostick ! Anxiety to change place. We 
 will fix you, sir. Your disease — 
 
 Sin. I have no disease, sir. 
 
 Dr. A bad symptom when a patient is insensible of his ill- 
 ness. 
 
 Sin. I am well, sir, I assure you. 
 
 Dr. We know best how that is, sir. We physicians see 
 through your constitution at once. 
 
 Sin. You are then a physician, sir ? 
 
 Vol Yes, sir, this is my master, sir, the celebrated Dr. 
 Pumpwater, sir, the enemy of human diseases, sir. 
 
 Sin. Who has travelled over the country ? 
 
 Dr. The same, sir. 
 
 Sin. I am happy to hear it, gentlemen. I have long been 
 in search of you, and have a warrant for your apprehension 
 on an indictmentt for vagrancy. A lucky mistake has ena- 
 bled me to become a useful witness. You will please to fol- 
 low your patient to the workhouse. 
 
 * Pronounced yufm&rz. t in-dite'mnt, i 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 127 
 
 Of the Elephant. 
 
 X HE size of this animal, its strength and sagacity, have 
 rendered it in all ages the admiration of mankind. The 
 height of the largest varies from ten to fourteen feet, and 
 the length is about sixteen, from the front to the origin of 
 the tail. In proportion to the size of the elephant, his eyes are 
 very small, but they are lively, brilliant, and very expressive. 
 
 2. The mouth appears behind the trunk, which latter 
 hangs between the two large tusks, which are the princi- 
 pal weapons* of defence. The feet are short, clumsy, and 
 divided into five hoofs or toes. But the most singular or- 
 gan is the trunk, which is at once the instrument of respi- 
 ration, and the limb by which the animal supplies itself 
 with food. 
 
 3. This trunk is hollow, like a tube, and with it he can 
 suck up the smallest objects at pleasure, and convey them 
 into his mouth. When he drinks, he thrusts his trunk into 
 the water, and fills it by drawing in his breath. When the 
 trunk is thus filled with water, he can either blow it out to a 
 great distance, or drink it, by putting the end of the trunk 
 into his mouth. 
 
 4. Few elephants have ever been brought to America ; 
 but one, which was exhibited in 1817, was upwards of ten 
 feet in height. The docility of this powerful animal was as- 
 tonishing. He not only obeyed his keeper, but would suffer 
 himself to be beaten and abused by him. He was also par- 
 ticularly attached to a small dog, and appeared extremely un- 
 easy when the spectators caused the little animal to send 
 forth cries of pain. 
 
 5. He would lie down at the command of his keeper, 
 and suffer several of the spectators to stand upon his side, 
 while extended in this position. He also attempted to dance, 
 but his dancing only consisted in slowly raising one of his 
 enormous feet at a time, although this was done with consid- 
 erable regularity. 
 
 6. His other feats were, lifting men with his trunk, draw- 
 ing corks from bottles, emptying the contents into his mouth 
 
 # Pronounced v&tfnz, 
 
128 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 and adroitly picking fruit from the pockets of the *beholders. 
 When at leisure, his favourite amusement was to gather wisps 
 of hay with his trunk, and throw them upon his back. 
 
 7. In a savage state, elephants are peaceable and gentle 
 creatures, and are said never to use their weapons except in 
 self-defence. It is dangerous to offer them the least injury, 
 however, for they run directly upon the offender, and, although 
 the weight of their body be great, their steps are so long that 
 they easily overtake the swiftest man. The following anec- 
 dotes will prove, that, besides his sagacity, the elephant is en- 
 dowed with other noble qualities. 
 
 8. In India, they were once employed in the launching of 
 ships. One was directed to force a very large ship into the 
 water ; the work proved superiour to his strength ; his master, 
 with a sarcastick tone, bid the keeper take away this lazy 
 beast, and bring another ; the poor animal instantly repeated 
 his efforts, fractured his skull, and died on the spot. 
 
 9. In Delhi, an elephant, passing along the streets, put his 
 trunk into a tailor's shop, where several people were at work ; 
 one of them pricked the end of it with a needle ; the beast 
 passed on, but, in the next dirty puddle, filled his trunk with 
 water, returned to the shop, and, spurting every drop among 
 the people who had offended him, spoiled their work. 
 
 10. An elephant in Adsmeer, which often passed through 
 the market, as he went by a certain herb woman, always re- 
 ceived from her a mouthful of greens. At length he was seiz- 
 ed with one of his periodical fits of rage, broke his fetters, 
 and, running through the market, put the crowd to flight ; 
 among others, this woman, who, in her haste, forgot a little 
 child she had brought with her. 
 
 11. The animal, recollecting the spot where his benefac- 
 tress was wont* to sit, took up the infant gently in his trunk, 
 and placed it in safety on a stall before a neighbouring 
 house. Another, in his madness, killed his governour ; the 
 wife, seeing the misfortune, took her two children, and flung 
 them before the elephant, saying, " Now you have destroy- 
 ed their father, you may as well put an end to their lives and 
 mine." 
 
 12. He instantly stopped, relented, took the greatest of the 
 children, placed it on his neck, adopted it for his comae or 
 
 * Pronounced wunt 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 129 
 
 governour, and never afterwards would permit any body else to 
 mount him. 
 
 13. A soldier at Pondicherry/r who was accustomed, when- 
 ever he received the portion that came to his share, to carry a 
 certain quariity of it to one of these animals, having one day 
 drank rather too freely, and finding himself pursued by the 
 guards, who were going to take him to prison, took refuge un- 
 der the elephant's body, and fell asleep. 
 
 14. In vain did the guard try to force him from this asy- 
 lum, as the elephant protected him with his trunk. The 
 next morning, the soldier, recovering from his drunken fit, 
 shuddered with horrour to find himself stretched under the 
 belly of this huge animal. 
 
 15. The elephant, who, without doubt, perceived the man's 
 embarrassment, caressed him with his trunk, in order to in- 
 spire him with courage, and make him understand that he 
 might now depart in safety. 
 
 16. A painter was desirous of drawing the elephant, which 
 was kept in the menagerief at Versailles, in an uncommon 
 attitude, which was that of holding his trunk raised up in the 
 air, with his mouth open. The painter's boy, in order to 
 keep the animal in this posture, threw fruit into his mouth. 
 
 17. But, as the lad frequently deceived him, and made an 
 offer only of throwing him fruit, he grew angry ; and, as if 
 he had known that the painter's intention of drawing him 
 was the cause of the affront that was offered him, instead of 
 revenging himself on the lad, he turned his resentment against 
 the master, and, taking up a quantity of water in his trunk, 
 threw it on the paper on which the painter was drawing, and 
 spoiled it. 
 
 Speech of Mr. Walpole in the British Parliament, 
 in Opposition to Mr. Pitt, first Earl of Chatham. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 J. WAS unwilling to interrupt the course of this debate 
 while it was carried on with calmness and decency, by men 
 who do not suffer the ardour of opposition to cloud their 
 
 * Pronounced Pon'di~sher-ry. f men-azh'iir-e. 
 
p 
 
 130 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 reason, or transport them to such expressions as the dignity of 
 this assembly does not admit. 
 
 2. I have hitherto deferred to answer the gentleman who 
 declaimed against the bill with such fluency of rhetorick, and 
 such vehemence of gesture ; who charged the advocates for 
 the expedients now proposed with having no regard to any 
 interests but their own, and with making laws only to con- 
 sume, paper ; and threatened them with the defection of their 
 adherents, and the loss of their influence, upon this new dis- 
 covery of their folly and ignorance. 
 
 3. Nor, sir, do I now answer him for any other purpose 
 than to remind him how little the clamours of rage, and petu- 
 lency of invective, contribute to the purpose for which this as- 
 sembly is cajled together ; how little the discovery of truth is 
 promoted, and the security of the nation established, by pom- 
 pous diction and theatrical emotions. 
 
 4. Formidable sounds and furious declamations, confident 
 assertions and lofty periods, may affect the young and inexpe- 
 rienced ; and, perhaps, the gentleman may have contracted 
 his habits of oratory by conversing more with those of his own 
 age, than with such as hax^e had more opportunities of acquir- 
 ing knowledge, and more successful methods of communicat- 
 ing their sentiments* 
 
 5. If the heat of his temper, sir, would suffer him to attend 
 to those whose age and long acquaintance with business give 
 them an indisputable right to deference and superiority, he 
 would learn, in time, to reason, rather than declaim, and to 
 prefer justness of argument, and an accurate knowledge of the 
 facts, to sounding epithets and splendid superlatives, which 
 may disturb the imagination for a moment, but leave no last- 
 ing impression on the mind. 
 
 6. He will learn, sir, that to accuse and prove are very dif- 
 ferent ; and that reproaches, unsupported by evidence, affect 
 only the character of him who utters them. Excursions of 
 fancy and flights of oratory are, indeed, pardonable in young 
 men, but in no other ; and it would surely contribute more, 
 even to the purpose for which some gentlemen appear to speak, 
 that of depreciating the conduct of the administration, to prove 
 the inconveniences and injustice of this bill, than barely to 
 assert them, with whatever magnificence of language, or ap- 
 pearance of zeal, honesty or compassion. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 131 
 
 Mr. Pitt's Answer to Mr. Walpole. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 JL HE atrocious crime of being a young man, which 
 the honourable gentleman has, with such spirit and decen- 
 cy, charged upon me,- 1 shall neither attempt to palliate or 
 deny ; but content myself with wishing, that I may be one of 
 those whose follies may cease with their youth, and not of 
 that number who are ignorant in spite of experience. 
 
 2. Whether youth can be imputed to any man as a re- 
 proach, I will not, sir, assume the province of determining ; 
 but surely age may become justly contemptible, if the oppor- 
 tunities which it brings have passed away without improve- 
 ment, and vice appears to prevail, when the passions have sub- 
 sided. 
 
 3 The wretch, who, after having seen the consequences of 
 a thousand errours, continues still to blunder, and whose age 
 has only added obstinacy to stupidity, is surely the object of 
 either abhorrence or contempt, and deserves not that his gray 
 head should secure him from insult. 
 
 4. Much more, sir, is he to be abhorred, who, as he has 
 advanced in age, has receded from virtue, and becomes more 
 wicked with less temptation ; who prostitutes himself for money 
 which he cannot enjoy, and spends the remains of his life in 
 the ruin of his country. 
 
 5. But youth, sir, is not my only crime ; I have been ac- 
 cused of acting a theatrical part. A theatrical part may either 
 imply some peculiarities of gesture, or a dissimulation of my 
 real sentiments, and an adoption of the opinions and language 
 of another man. 
 
 6. In the first sense, sir, the charge is too trifling to be 
 confuted, and deserves only to be mentioned that it may be 
 despised. I am at liberty, like every other man, to use my 
 own language ; and, though I may perhaps have some am- 
 bition to please this gentleman, I shall not lay myself under 
 any restraint, nor very solicitously copy his diction or 
 his mien, however matured by age, or modelled by expe- 
 rience 
 
132 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 7. If any man shall, by charging me with theatrical be- 
 haviour, imply, that I utter any sentiments but my own, I 
 shall treat him as a calumniator and a villain ; nor shall any 
 protection shelter him from the treatment which he de- 
 serves. 
 
 8. I shall, on such an occasion, without scruple, trample 
 upon all those forms with which wealth and dignity entrench 
 themselves; nor shall any thing but age restrain my resent- 
 ment ; age, which always brings one privilege, that of being 
 insolent and supercilious without punishment. 
 
 9. But with regard, sir, to those whom I have offended, I 
 am of opinion, that if I had acted a borrowed part, I should 
 have avoided their censure. The heat, which offended them, 
 is the ardour of conviction, and that zeal for the service of my 
 country, which neither hope nor fear shall influence me to 
 suppress. « 
 
 10. I will not sit unconcerned while my liberty is invaded, 
 nor look in silence upon publick robbery. I will exert my 
 endeavours, at whatever hazard, to repel the aggressor, and 
 drag the thief to justice, whoever may protect them in their 
 villany, and whoever may partake of their plunder. 
 
 Story of a second Joseph. 
 
 Jl HE following relation proves that incidents somewhat 
 similar to those in the times of Jacob are still renewed in 
 Egypt. In 1776, the plains of Syria were ravaged by clouds 
 of locusts, which devoured the corn to the very root. 
 
 2. A famine followed, and a farmer near Damascus felt the 
 effects of the general distress. To supply the wants of a nu- 
 merous family, he sold his cattle ; which resource' being soon 
 exhausted, the unhappy father, wretched at present, but fore- 
 seeing greater wretchedness to come, pressed by hunger, sold 
 his instruments of husbandry at Damascus. 
 
 3. Led by the invisible hand of Providence, (as former- 
 ly Tobias was by the angel,) while he bargained for corn, 
 lately arrived from Damietta, he heard speak of the success 
 of Mourad Bey, who had entered Grand Cairo victorious, and 
 in triumph, 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 133 
 
 4. The shape, character and origin of the warriour were 
 described, and how he had risen from slavery to power su- 
 preme. The astonished farmer found the description accorded 
 
 " with a son, who had been stolen from him at twelve years old : 
 hope palpitated in his heart ; he hastened home with his pro- 
 visions, told his family what he had heard, and determined 
 immediately to depart for Egypt. 
 
 5. His weeping wife and sons offered up prayers for his 
 safe return. Going to the port of Alexandretta, he embarked 
 there, and came to Damietta. One continued fear tormented 
 him ; his son, forsaking the religion of his fathers, had em- 
 braced Mahometanism ; and now, surrounded as he was by 
 splendour, would he acknowledge his parents ? 
 
 - 6. The thcjght lay heavy on his heart; yet the wish to 
 snatch his family from all the horrours of famine, the hope of 
 finding a long lamented son, gave him fortitude. He contin- 
 ued his journey, came to the capital, repaired to the palace of 
 Mourad, applied to the officers of the prince, and most ardent- 
 ly solicited admission. 
 
 7. His dress and appearance bespoke poverty and misfor- 
 tune, and were poor recommendations ; but his great age, so 
 respectable in the East, pleaded in. his behalf. One of the at- 
 tendants went to the Bey, and told him an aged man, appa- 
 rently miserable, requested an audience. 
 
 8. " Let him enter," replied Mourad ; and the farmer proceed- 
 ed, with trembling steps, over the rich carpet which bespread 
 the hall of the Divan 7 , and approached the Bey, who reclined 
 on a sofa embroidered with silk and gold. Crowding sensa- 
 tions deprived him of the use of speech. 
 
 9. At last, after attentively looking, the voice of nature 
 vanquishing fear, he fell, and, embracing his knees, exclaim- 
 ed, " You are my son!" The Bey raised him, endeavoured to 
 recollect, and, after explanation, finding him to be his father, 
 made him sit down by his side, and caressed him most affec- 
 tionately. 
 
 10. The first gush of nature over, the sire described in what 
 a deplorable state he had left his mother and brethren ; and 
 the prince proposed to send for, and with them divide his 
 riches and power, if they would embrace Is'lamism. 
 
 11. This the generous Christian had foreseen, and, fearing 
 youth might be dazzled, took not one of hia sons with him 
 
 12 
 
134 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 He, therefore, firmly rejected Mourad's offer, and even remon- 
 strated with him on his own change of religion. 
 
 12. The Bey, finding his father determined, and that his 
 family's distress demanded immediate succour, sent him back 
 to Syria, with a large sum of money, and a vessel loaded with 
 corn. The happy husbandman immediately returned to the 
 plains of Damascus, where his arrival banished misery and 
 tears from his homely roof, and brought joy, ease and felicity. 
 
 Scene between Cato and Decius. 
 
 Decius. \jMBAR sends health to Cato— 
 
 Cato. Could he send it 
 To Cato's slaughtered friends, it would be welcome. 
 Are not your orders to address the senate 1 
 
 Dec. My business is with Cato ; Caesar sees 
 The straits to which you're driven, and, as he knows, 
 Cato's high worth, is anxious for your life. 
 
 Cato. My life is grafted on the fate of Rome. 
 Would he save Cato, bid him spare his country. 
 Tell your dictator this ; and tell him, Cato 
 Disdains a life which he has power to offer. 
 
 Dec. Rome and her senators submit to Caesar ; 
 Her generals and her consuls are no more, 
 Who checked his conquests, and denied his triumphs. 
 Why will not Cato be this Caesar's friend ? 
 
 Cato. Those very reasons thou hast urged forbid it. 
 
 Dec. Cato, I have orders to expostulate, 
 And reason with you, as from friend to friend. 
 Think on the storm that gathers o'er your head, 
 And threatens every hour to burst upon it. 
 Still may you stand high in your country's honours, 
 Do but comply, and make your peace with Caesar. 
 Rome will rejoice, and cast its eyes on Cato, 
 As on the second of mankind. 
 
 Cato. No more ; 
 I must not think of life on these conditions. 
 
 Dec. Caesar is well acquainted with your virtues, 
 
 1 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 135 
 
 And therefore sets this value on your life. 
 
 Let him but know the price of Cato's friendship, 
 
 And name your terms. 
 
 Cato. Bid him disband his legions, 
 Restore the commonwealth to liberty, 
 Submit his actions to the publick censure, 
 And stand the judgment of a Roman senate. 
 Bid him do this, and Cato is his friend. 
 
 Dec. Cato, the world talks loudly of your wisdom — 
 
 Cato. Nay, more; though Cato's voide was ne'er employed 
 To clear the guilty, and to varnish crimes, 
 Myself will mount the rostrum in his favour, 
 And strive to gain his pardon from the people. 
 
 Dec. A style like this becomes a conqueror. 
 
 Cato. Decius, a style like this becomes a Roman. 
 
 Dec. What is a Roman, who is Caesar's foe ? 
 
 Cato. Greater than Caesar ; he's a friend to virtue. 
 
 Dec. Consider, Cato, you're in Utica, 
 And at the head of your own little senate ; 
 You don't now thunder in the capitol, 
 With all the mouths of Rome to second you. 
 
 Cato. Let Mm consider that who drives us hither ; 
 'Tis Caesar's sword has made Rome's senate little, > 
 And thinned its ranks. Alas ! thy dazzled eye 
 Beholds this man in a false, glaring light, 
 Which conquest and success have thrown upon him. 
 Didst thou but view him right, thou'dst see him black 
 With murder, treason, sacrilege and crimes, 
 That strike my soul with horrour but to name 'em. 
 I know thou look'st on me as on a wretch 
 Beset with ills and covered with misfortunes ; 
 But, be it known to thee, millions of worlds 
 Should never buy me to be like that Caesar. 
 
 Dec. Does Cato send this answer back to Caesar, 
 For all his generous cares and proffered friendship 1 
 
 Cato. His cares for me are insolent and vain. 
 Presumptuous man ! the gods take care of Cato. 
 Would Caesar show the greatness of his soul, 
 Bid him employ his care for these my friends, 
 And make good use of his ill-gotten power, 
 By sheltering men much better than himself 
 
136 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Dec. Your high, unconquered heart makes you forget 
 You are a man. You rush on your destruction. 
 But I have done. When I relate, hereafter, 
 The tale of this unhappy embassy, 
 All Rome will be in tears. 
 
 The Beggar's Petition. 
 
 JTTT Y the sorrows of a poor old man, 
 Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door, 
 Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span ; 
 Oh ! give relief, and Heaven will bless your store. 
 
 2. These tattered clothes my poverty bespeak, 
 These hoary locks proclaim my lengthened years, 
 And many a furrow in my grief-worn cheek 
 Has been the channel to a flood of tears. 
 
 3. Yon house, erected on the rising ground, 
 With tempting aspect, drew me from my road ; 
 For plenty there a residence has found, 
 
 And grandeur a magnificent abode. 
 
 4. Hard is the fate of the infirm and poor ! 
 Here, as I craved a morsel of their bread, 
 
 A pampered menial drove me from the door, 
 To seek a shelter in an humbler shed. 
 
 5. Oh ! take me to your hospitable dome ; 
 Keen blows the wind, and piercing is the cold ! 
 Short is my passage to the friendly tomb, 
 
 For I am poor, and miserably old. 
 
 6. Should I reveal the sources of my grief, 
 If soft humanity e'er touched your breast, 
 Your hands would not withhold the kind relief, 
 And tears of pity would not be repressed. 
 
 7. Heaven sends misfortunes ; why should we repine ? 
 'Tis Heaven has brought me to the state you see ; 
 
 And your condition may be soon like mine, 
 The child of sorrow and of misery. 
 
 8. A little farm was my paternal lot ; 
 
 Then, like the lark, I sprightly hailed the morn ; 
 But, ah ! oppression forced me from my cot, 
 My cattle died, and blighted was my corn. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 137 
 
 9. My daughter, once the comfort of my age, 
 Lured by a villain from her native home, 
 
 Is cast abandoned on the world's wide stage, 
 And doomed in, scanty poverty to roam. 
 
 10. My tender wife, sweet soother of my care, 
 Struck with sad anguish at the stern decree, 
 Fell, lingering fell, a victim to despair, 
 
 And left the world to wretchedness and me. 
 
 11. Pity the sorrows of a poor old man, 
 
 "Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door, 
 Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span ; 
 Oh ! give relief, and Heaven will bless your store. 
 
 The Test of Goodness. 
 
 JXEAL goodness consists in doing good to our enemies. 
 Of this truth the following apologue may serve for an illus- 
 tration. A certain father of a family, advanced in years, 
 being desirous of settling his worldly matters, divided his 
 property between his three sons. 
 
 2. "Nothing now remains," said he to them, "but a dia- 
 mond of great value ; this I have determined to appropriate 
 to whichever of you shall, within three months, perform the 
 best actions." 
 
 3. His three sons accordingly departed different ways, 
 and returned by the limited time. On presenting themselves 
 before their judge, the eldest thus began. 
 
 4. " Father," said he, " during my absence, I found a stranger 
 so circumstanced, that he was under the necessity of intrust- 
 ing me with the whole of his fortune. 
 
 5. " He had no written security from me, nor could he 
 possibly bring any proof, any evidence whatever, of the de- 
 posit. Yet I faithfully returned to him every shilling. 
 Was there not something commendable in this action ?" 
 
 6. "Thou hast done what was incumbent upon thee to do, 
 my son," replied the old man. "The man who could have 
 acted otherwise were unworthy to live ; for honesty is a duty ; 
 thy action is an action of justice, not of goodness." 
 
 12* 
 
138 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 7. On this, the second son advanced. " In the course of 
 my travels," said he, " I came to a lake in which I beheld a 
 child struggling with death. I plunged into it, and saved his 
 life, in the presence of a number of the neighbouring villa- 
 gers, all of whom can attest the truth of what I assert." 
 
 8. " It was well done," interrupted the old man ; " but you 
 have only obeyed the dictates of humanity." At length the 
 youngest of the three came forward. 
 
 9. " I happened," said he, " to meet my mortal enemy, who*, 
 having bewildered himself in the dead of night, had imper- 
 ceptibly fallen asleep upon the brink of a frightful preci- 
 pice. The least motion would infallibly have plunged him 
 headlong into the abyss : and, though his life was in my 
 hands, yet, with every necessary precaution, I awaked him, 
 and removed him from his danger." 
 
 10. " Ah, my son," exclaimed the venerable good man with 
 transport, while he pressed him to his heart, " to thee belongs 
 the diamond ; well hast thou deserved it." 
 
 Description of Mount ^Etna. 
 
 JL HERE is no point on the surface of the globe, which 
 unites so many awful and sublime objects, as the summit of 
 Mount ./Etna. The immense elevation from the surface of 
 the earth, drawn as it were to a single point, without any 
 neighbouring mountain for the senses and imagination to 
 rest upon, and recover from their astonishment in their way 
 down to the world : 
 
 2. This point or pinnacle, raised on the brink of a bottom- 
 less gulf, as old as the world, often discharging rivers of fire, 
 and throwing out burning rocks, with a noise which shakes 
 the whole island : 
 
 3. Add to this the unbounded extent of the prospect, 
 comprehending the greatest diversity, and the most beauti- 
 ful scenery in nature ; with the rising sun, advancing in the 
 East, to illuminate the wondrous scene. 
 
 4. The whole atmosphere by degrees kindled up, and 
 showed dimly and faintly the boundless prospect around. 
 Both sea and land looked dark and confused, as if only 
 emerging from their original chaos ; and light and darkness 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 139 
 
 seemed still undivided ; till the morning, by degree advanc- 
 ing, completed the separation. 
 
 5. The stars are extinguished, and the shades disappear. 
 The forests, which but now seemed black and bottomless 
 gulfs, from whence no ray was reflected to show their form 
 or colours, appear a new creation rising to the sight, catching 
 life and beauty from every increasing beam. 
 
 6. The scene still enlarges, and the horizon seems to 
 widen and expand itself on all sides ; till the sun, like the 
 great Creator, appears in the East, and with his piastick ray 
 completes the mighty scene. 
 
 7. All appears enchantment; and it is with difficulty we 
 can believe we are still on the earth. The senses, unaccus- 
 tomed to the sublimity of such a scene, are bewildered and 
 confounded ; and it is not till after some time*- that they are 
 capable of separating and judging of the objects which com- 
 pose it. 
 
 8. The body of the sun is seen rising from the ocean, 
 immense tracts both of sea and land intervening-; the islands 
 of Lipa/ri, Pana'ri, Alicu'di, Strombo'io, and Volcano, with 
 their smoking summits, appear under your feet; and you 
 look down on the whole of Sicily as on a map ; and can 
 trace every river through all its windings, from its source 
 to its mouth. 
 
 9. The view is absolutely boundless on every side; nor 
 is there any one object, within the circle of vision, to in- 
 terrupt it ; so that the sight is every where lost in the im- 
 mensity. 
 
 10. The circumference of the visible horizon on the top 
 of iEtna cannot be less than 2,000 miles. At Malta, which 
 is nearly 200 miles distant, they perceive all the eruptions 
 from the second region ; and that island is often discovered 
 from about one half of the elevation of the mountain ; so that, 
 at the whole elevation, the horizon must extend to nearly 
 double that distance. 
 
 1 1 . But this is by much too vast for our senses, not intended 
 to grasp so boundless a scene. I find by some of the Sicilian 
 authors, that the African coast, as well as that of Naples, 
 with many of its islands, has been discovered from the top of 
 iEtna. Of this, however, we cannot boast, though we can very 
 well believe it. 
 
140 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 12. But the most beautiful part of the scene is certainly 
 the mountain itself, the island of Sicily, and the numerous 
 islands lying round it. All these, by a kind of magick in vis- 
 ion, seem as if they were brought close round the skirts of 
 ./Etna ; the distances appearing reduced to nothing. 
 
 13. The present crater of the volcano is a circle of about 
 three miles and a half in circumference. It goes shelving 
 down on each side, and forms a regular hollow, like a vast 
 amphitheatre. 
 
 14. From many places of this space issue volumes of 
 smoke, which, being much heavier than the circumambient 
 air, instead of rising in it, as smoke generally does, rolls 
 down the side of the mountain like a torrent, till, coming to 
 that part of the atmosphere of the same specifick gravity with 
 itself, it shoots off horizontally, and forms a large tract in the 
 air, according to the direction of the wind. 
 
 15. The crater is so hot, that it is very dangerous, if not 
 impossible, to go down into it. Besides, the smoke is very 
 incommodious ; and, in many places, the surface is so soft, 
 that there have been instances of people's sinking down into 
 it, and paying for their temerity with their lives. 
 
 16. Near the centre of the crater is the great mouth of 
 the volcano. And when we reflect on the immensity of its 
 depth, the vast caverns whence so many lavas have issued ; 
 the force of its internal fire, sufficient to raise up those 
 lavas to so great a height; the boiling of the matter, the 
 shaking of the mountain, the explosion of flaming rocks, 
 &c, we must allow, that the most enthusiastick* imagina- 
 tion, in the midst of all its terrours, can hardly form an idea 
 more dreadful. 
 
 A Dialogue between two School-Boys, on Dancing. 
 
 Harry. X OM, when are you going to begin your dancing ? 
 You will be so old in a short time as to be ashamed to be 
 seen taking your five positions. 
 
 Thomas. I don't know as I shall begin at all. Father 
 says he don't care a fig whether I learn to jump any better 
 * Pronounced en-tku-zhe-as'tik. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 141 
 
 than I do now ; and^ as I am to be a tradesman, he is deter- 
 mined, at present, to keep me at the reading and writing 
 , schools. 
 
 Har. That must be very dull and dry for you. And what 
 good will all such learning do you, so long as you make the 
 awkward appearance you do at present ? I am surprised at 
 your father's folly. So, because you are to be a tradesman, 
 you are not to learn the graces ! I expect to learn a trade too. 
 But my papa says I shall first learn the dancing trade ; and 
 then, if I never learn any other, I shall make my way 
 through the world well enough. 
 
 Tom. I don't know which discovers the most folly, your fa- 
 ther or mine. Old folks certainjy know more than young 
 ones ; and my father is much the oldest man. 
 
 Har. I don't believe that doctrine. There's Jack Upstart 
 knows more than his father and mother both, and he is but 
 nineteen yet. And he says the present generation, under five 
 and twenty years of age, knows more than fifteen generations 
 that have gone before us. 
 
 Tom. I don't know how that is. But father early taught 
 me this proverb, " Young folks think old folks are fools ; but 
 old folks know young ones to be so." But to return to 
 schools — Pray how far have you gone in your arithmetick ? 
 
 Har. Arithmetick ! I have not begun that yet ; nor shall I 
 till I have completed dancing. That is a nurly study; I 
 know I never shall like it. 
 
 Tom. Writing, I suppose, you are fond of. 
 
 Har. I can't say I am, Tom. I once had a tolerable 
 fondness for it ; but, since I began dancing, I have held it 
 in utter contempt. It may be well enough for a person 
 to write a legible hand ; but it is no mark of a gentleman to 
 write elegantly. 
 
 Tom. You would have a gentleman spell well, I suppose. 
 
 Har. I would have him spell so well as to be understood ; 
 and that is enough for any man. 
 
 Tom. What say you to grammar and geography i 
 
 Har. Don't name them, I entreat you. There is nothing 
 ^ so much abhor, as to hear your learned school-boys jab- 
 bering over they* nouns, their pronouns, their verbs, their 
 parables, their congregations, their imperfections, and con- 
 Auctions. I'll tell you what, Tom, — I had rather be mas- 
 
142 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 ter of one hornpipe, than to understand all the grammars 
 which have been published since the art of printing was dis- 
 covered. 
 
 Tom. I am sorry, friend Harry, to hear you speak so con- 
 temptuously of the solid sciences. I hope you don't mean 
 to neglect them entirely. If you do, you must expect to 
 live in poverty, and die the scorn and derision of all wise 
 men. i$ 
 
 Har. Never fear that, Tom. I shall take care of my- 
 self, I warrant you. You are much mistaken in your prog- 
 nostications. Why, there's Tim Fiddlefaddle — he can't 
 even write his name; and, as for reading, he scarcely 
 knows B from a broomstick^ and yet he can dance a minuet 
 with any master of the art in Christendom. And the ladies 
 all love him dearly. He is invited to their balls, routs, assem- 
 blies, card parties,, &,c. &>c, and he diverts them like any 
 monkey, 
 
 Tom. And does he expect it will be the same through life ? 
 How is he to be maintained when he becomes old ? and how 
 is he to amuse himself after he is unable to dance ; as you 
 say he neither can read nor write 1 
 
 Har. Why, in fact, I never thought of these things before. 
 I confess there appears to be some weight in these queries. 
 I don't know but it will be best for me to spare a day or 
 two in a week from my dancing, to attend to the branches 
 you are pursuing. 
 
 Tom. You will make but little progress in that way. My 
 master always told me that the solid sciences ought to be 
 secured first ; and that dancing might come in by and by 
 He says, when his scholars have once entered the dancing- 
 school, their heads, in general, are so full of balls, assemblies, 
 minuets, and cotillons, that he never can find much room for 
 any thing else. 
 
 Har. I will still maintain it, notwithstanding all you can 
 say in favour of your solid sciences, as you call them, that the 
 art of dancing is the art of all arts. It will, of itself, carry 
 a man to the very pinnacle of fame. Whereas, icithout it, 
 all your writing, arithmetick, grammar and geography will 
 not raise one above the common level of a clown, 
 
 Tom. I am no enemy to dancing, I assure you, friend 
 Harry, It is an accomplishment suitable enough for those 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 143 
 
 to learn who expect to have but little else to do. But for 
 you and me, who are destined to get our living by some me- 
 chanical profession, there are doubtless many pursuits more 
 advantageous. I think we ought to employ but a very 
 small part of our time in learning to dance. We will sup- 
 pose, for instance, that you learn the trade of a carpenter ; 
 I would ask you, if it would not be necessary to understand 
 figures, so that you might be able to keep your own accounts ; 
 and so much geometry as to be able to measure heights and 
 distances, superficies* and solids? Would it not be very 
 convenient to know a little of history, in order to acquaint 
 yourself with the various orders of architecture^ and where 
 they had their origin ? If you were shown a picture of St. 
 Peters Church, or a plan of Grand Cairo, would you not like 
 to know enough of geography to tell in what part of the world 
 they are situated? 
 
 liar. These are subjects which cousin Tim says never are 
 agitated in the fashionable circles which he visits. And so 
 I bid you good by. 
 
 Extract from Mr. John Q. Adams ; s Oration deliv- 
 ered at Boston, July 4, 1793. 
 
 ^IlMERIC ANS ! let us pause for a moment to consider 
 the situation of our country, at that eventful day when our 
 national existence commenced. In the foil possession and 
 enjoyment of all those prerogatives for which you then dared 
 to adventure upon " all the varieties of untried being," the 
 calm and settled moderation of the mind is scarcely compe- 
 tent to conceive the tone of heroism, to which the soids'of 
 freemen were exalted in that hour of perilous magnanimity. 
 
 2. Seventeen times has the sun, in the progress of his 
 annual revolutions, diffused his proliiick radiance over the 
 plains of Independent America. Millions of hearts, which 
 then palpitated with the rapt'urous glow of patriotism, have 
 already - been translated to brighter worlds ; to the abodes 
 
 # Pronounced su-jper-jish'ez. \ ar-kt-iek'iskiire. 
 
144 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 of more than mortal freedom. Other millions have arisen to 
 receive from their parents and benefactors the inestimable 
 recompense of their achievements. 
 
 3. A large proportion of the audience, whose benevolence 
 is at this moment listening to the speaker of the day, like 
 him, were, at that period, too little advanced beyond the 
 threshold of life, to partake of the divine enthusiasm which 
 inspired the American bosom; which prompted her voice 
 to proclaim defiance to the thunders of Britain ; which con- 
 secrated the banners of her armies ; and finally erected the 
 holy temple of American Liberty over the tomb of departed 
 tyranny. 
 
 4. It is from those who have already passed the meridian 
 of life ; it is from you, ye venerable assertors of the rights of 
 mankind, that we are to be informed, what were the feelings 
 which swayed within your breasts, and impelled you to action ; 
 when, like the stripling of Israel, with scarcely a weap'on to 
 attack, and without a shield for your defence, you met, and, 
 undismayed, engaged with the gigantick greatness of the 
 British power. 
 
 5 Untutored in the disgraceful science of human butchery : 
 destitute of the fatal materials which the ingenuity of man 
 has combined, to sharpen the sithe of death; unsupported 
 by the arm of any friendly alliance, and unfortified against 
 the powerful assaults of an unrelenting enemy ; you did not 
 hesitate at that moment, when your coasts were infested by 
 a formidable fleet, when your territories were invaded by a 
 numerous and veteran army, to pronounce the sentence of 
 eternal separation from Britain, and to throw the gauntlet* at 
 a power, the terror of whose recent triumphs was almost co- 
 extensive with the earth. 
 
 6. The interested and selfish propensities, which, in times 
 of prosperous tranquillity, have such powerful dominion 
 over the heart, were all expelled ; and, in their stead, the 
 publick virtues, the spirit of personal devotion to the com- 
 mon cause, a contempt of every danger in comparison with 
 the subserviency of the country, had assumed an unlimited 
 control. 
 
 7. The passion for the publick had absorbed all the rest ; 
 
 * Pronounced garni-kt. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 145 
 
 as the glorious luminary of heaven extinguishes in a flood 
 of refulgence the twinkling splendour of every inferiour 
 planet. Those of you, my countrymen, who were actors in 
 thote interesting scenes, will best know, how feeble and 
 impotent is the language of this description, to express the 
 impassioned emotions of the soul, with which you were then 
 agitated. 
 
 8. Yet it were injustice to conclude from thence, or from 
 the greater prevalence of private and personal motives in 
 these days of calm serenity, that your sons have degenerat- 
 ed from the virtues of their fathers. Let it rather be a 
 subject of pleasing reflection to you, that the generous and 
 disinterested energies, which you were summoned to dis- 
 play, are permitted, by the bountiful indulence of Heaven, to 
 remain latent in the bosoms* of your children. 
 
 9. From the present prosperous appearance of our publick 
 affairs, we may admit a rational hope that our country will 
 have no occasion to require of us those extraordinary? and 
 heroick exertions which it was your fortune to exhibit. 
 
 10. But from the common versatility of all human des- 
 tiny, should the prospect hereafter darken, and the clouds 
 of publick misfortune thicken to a tempest ; should the 
 voice of our country's calamity ever call us to her relief, 
 we swear by the precious memory of the sages who toiled, 
 and of the heroes who bled, in her defence, that we will 
 prove ourselves not unworthy of the prize which they so 
 dearly purchased ; that we will act as the faithful disciples 
 of those who so magnanimously taught us the instructive 
 lesson of republican virtue. 
 
 On knowing the World at an early Age. 
 
 jL HE knowledge of the world, in its comprehensive sense, 
 is a knowledge greatly to be desired. To understand the 
 human heart, to know human manners, laws, languages, and 
 institutions of every kind, and in various nations : and to be 
 able to reflect on all these with moral and political improve- 
 ment, is an attainment worthy of the greatest statesman and 
 the wisest philosopher. 
 
 * Pronounced bov'zwnz. f eks-tror'ck-7iar~e. 
 
 13 
 
146 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 2. But there is a knowledge of the world of a very in- 
 feriour kind, but which many parents value at a high price. 
 Greek and Latin are always mentioned with contempt, on 
 a comparison with this. In compliance with custom, indeed, 
 and to get him out of the way, the boy is placed at school ; 
 but the knowledge to be gained there is little esteemed by 
 the empty votaries of fashion. 
 
 3. Men and things, not words, are magisterially pointed 
 out as the proper objects of study, by those who know little 
 of men, things or words. It is not the knowledge of books 
 (say they) which he is to pursue, but the knowledge of the 
 world ; ignorant that the knowledge of books is necessary 
 to gain a valuable knowledge of the world. 
 
 4. The parents, who give such directions to their chil- 
 dren, are themselves merely people of the world, as it is 
 called ; persons, for the most part, of very moderate under- 
 standings, who have never made any solid improvements in 
 learning, and, consequently, never felt its pleasures, or its 
 advantages. 
 
 5. They have, perhaps, raised themselves by dint of world- 
 ly policy, by the little arts of simulation and dissimulation ; 
 and having seen the effects of dress, address, and an atten- 
 tion to exteriour accomplishments ; but at the same time 
 being totally unacquainted with real and solid attainments, 
 they are naturally led to wish to give their children the 
 most useful education, which, according to their ideas, is a 
 knowledge of the world. 
 
 6. But what is this knowledge of the world ? A knowl- 
 edge of its follies and vices ; a knowledge of them at a 
 time of life when they will not appear in their true light, 
 contemptible in themselves, and the sources of misery ; but 
 flattering and pleasurable To see these at a boyish age, 
 before the mind is properly prepared, will not cause an ab- 
 horrence, but an imitation of them. 
 
 7. To introduce boys to scenes of immoral and indecent 
 behaviour, is to educate them in vice, and to give the young 
 mind a foul stain, which it will never lose. And yet I have 
 known parents in the metropolis suffer boys of fourteen or 
 fifteen to roam wheresoever they pleased ; to frequent' the- 
 atres, and other places of publick diversions, by themselves ; 
 to return home late at night ; and all this with plenty of 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 147 
 
 money, and without giving any account of the manner of con- 
 suming that or their time. 
 
 8. The parents were pleased with their son's proficiency 
 in th& knowledge of the world ; the son was pleased with 
 liberty. All for a short time went on to their mutual satis- 
 faction. But, after a few years, a sad reverse usually ap- 
 peared. The boy became a spendthrift and a debauchee ;* 
 alienated his father's affections by incurring debt, and ruined 
 his constitution by every species of excess. 
 
 9. What remained after his money and his health were 
 dissipated ? No learning, no relish for the works of literary 
 taste. The spring of life, when the seeds of these should 
 have been sown, was employed in another manner. Noth- 
 ing remained but a wretched and a painful old age, devoted 
 to cards, dice, and illiberal conviviality. 
 
 10. He who is attending to his books, and collecting 
 ideas which will one day render him a blessing and an hon- 
 our to all with whom he is connected, will appear dull, awk- 
 ward and unengaging to many, in comparison with the pert 
 stripling who has been plunged into vice and dissipation 
 before he knows the meaning of the words. 
 
 11. The reception which the latter meets with in com- 
 pany gives him additional spirits ; and the poor parents 
 usually triumph awhile in the conscious superiority of their 
 judgment. In four or five years, they commonly see and feel 
 the effects of their folly. 
 
 12. Their conduct, as it often undoubtedly proceeds from 
 ignorance, is to be compassionated ; but, if ever it arise from 
 affectation of singularity, pride, vicious principles, or care- 
 lessness concerning their offspring, it deserves the severest 
 reprehension. 
 
 13. It is obvious to observe in the world multitudes of 
 beardless boys assuming airs of manhood, and practising 
 manly vices, to obtain a title to the appellation of men. The 
 present age abounds with such examples. 
 
 14. A most fatal mistake is made by parents of all classes 
 m the present age. Many of them seem to think vice and 
 irregularity tiie marks of sense and spirit in a boy ; and 
 that innocence, modesty, submission to superiours, applica- 
 tion to study, and to every thing laudable, are the signs of 
 
 * Pronounced dtb-o-shee', 
 
148 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 stupidity. They often smile at the tricks of a young villain, 
 and ever seem pleased with boyish profligacy. 
 
 15. Hence it happens, that their offspring frequently prove 
 a scourge to them, and that they feel that sting, which, to use 
 Shakspeare's expression, is sharper than a serpent's tooth ; 
 the sting inflicted by a thankless, an immoral, an ignorant, an 
 extravagant, and an infidel child. 
 
 History of Pocahuntas. 
 
 Jl ERHAPS they who are not particularly acquainted with 
 the history of Virginia may be ignorant that Pocahuntas was 
 the protectress of the English, and often screened them from 
 the cruelty of her father. 
 
 2. She was but twelve years old, when Captain Smith, 
 the bravest, the most intelligent, and the most humane of 
 the first colonists, fell into the hands of the savages. He 
 already understood their language, had traded with them 
 several times, and often appeased the quarrels between the 
 Europeans and them. Often had he been obliged also to 
 fight them, and to punish their perfidy. 
 
 8. At length, however, under the pretext' of commerce, 
 he was drawn into an ambush, and the only two compan- 
 ions who accompanied him fell before his eyes ; but, 
 though alone, by his dexterity, he extricated himself from 
 the troop which surrounded him ; until, unfortunately, im- 
 agining he could save himself by crossing a morass', he 
 stuck fast, so that the savages, against whom he had no 
 means of defending himself, at last took and bound him, and 
 conducted him to Powhatan. 
 
 4. The king was so proud of having Captain Smith in 
 his power, that he sent him in triumph to all the tributary 
 princes, and ordered that he should be splendidly treated 
 till he returned to suffer that death which was prepared 
 for him. 
 
 5. The fatal moment at last arrived. Captain Smith was 
 laid upon the hearth of the savage king, and his head 
 placed upon a large stone to receive the stroke of death ; 
 when Pocahuntas, the youngest and darling daughter of 
 Powhatan, threw herself upon his body, clasped him in her 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 149 
 
 arms, and declared, that, if the cruel sentence was executed, 
 the first blow should fall on her. 
 
 6. All savages (absolute sovereigns* and tyrants not ex- 
 cepted) are invariably more affected by the tears of infancy 
 than the voice of humanity. Powhatan could not resist the 
 tears and prayers of his daughter. 
 
 7. Captain Smith obtained his life, on condition of paying 
 for his ransom a certain quantity of muskets, powder, and 
 iron utensils ; but how were they to be obtained ? They 
 would neither permit him to return to James-town, nor let the 
 English know where he was, lest they should demand him 
 swordf in hand. 
 
 8. Captain Smith, who was as sensible as courageous, 
 said, that, if Powhatan would permit one of his subjects to 
 carry to James-town a leaf which he took from his pocket- 
 book, he should find under a tree, at the day and hour ap- 
 pointed, all the articles demanded for his ransom. 
 
 9. Powhatan consented, but without having much faith 
 in his promises, believing it to be only an artifice of the cap- 
 tain to prolong his life. But he had written on the leaf a 
 few lines sufficient to give an account of his situation. The 
 messenger returned. The king sent to the place fixed upon, 
 and was greatly astonished to find every thing which had 
 been demanded. 
 
 10. Powhatan could not conceive this mode of transmit- 
 ting thoughts ; and Captain Smith was henceforth looked 
 upon as a great magician, to whom they could not show 
 too much respect. He left the savages in this opinion, and 
 hastened to return home. 
 
 11. Two or three years after, some fresh differences 
 arising between them and the English, Powhatan, who no 
 longer thought them sorcerers, but still feared their power, 
 laid a horrid plan to get rid of them altogether. • His project 
 was to attack them in profound peace, and cut the throats of 
 the whole colony. 
 
 12. The night of this intended conspiracy, Pocahuntas 
 took advantage of the obscurity, and, in a terrible storm, 
 which kept the savages in their tents, escaped from her 
 father's house, advised the English to be on their guard, 
 but conjured them to spare her family ; to appear ignorant 
 
 * Pronounced sit-u'er-ins. f sord. 
 
 13* 
 
150 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 of the intelligence she had given, and terminate all their dif- 
 ferences by a new treaty. 
 
 13. It would be tedious to relate all the services which 
 this angel of peace rendered to both nations. I shall only 
 add, that the English — I know not from what motives, but 
 certainly against all faith and equity — thought proper to 
 carry her off. Long and bitterly did she deplore her fate ; 
 and the only consolation she had, was Captain Smith, in 
 whom she found a second father. 
 
 14. She was treated with great respect, and married to 
 & planter by the name of Rolfe, who soon after took her 
 to England. This was in the reign of James the First ; 
 and it is said, that the monarch, pedantick and ridiculous in 
 every point, was so infatuated with the prerogatives of roy- 
 alty, that he expressed his displeasure that one of his sub- 
 jects should dare to marry the daughter even of a savage 
 king. 
 
 15. It will not, perhaps, be difficult to decide, on this oc- 
 casion, whether it was the savage king who derived honour 
 from finding himself placed upon a level with the Europe- 
 an prince, or the English monarch, who, by his pride and 
 prejudices, reduced himself to a level with the chief of the 
 savages. 
 
 16. Be that as it will, Captain Smith, who had returned 
 to London before the arrival of Pocahuntas, was extremely 
 happy to see her again ; but dared not treat her with the 
 same familiarity as at James-town. As soon as she saw 
 him, she threw herself into his arms, calling him her fa- 
 ther ; but, finding that he neither returned her caresses 
 with equal warmth, nor the endearing title of daughter, she 
 turned aside her head, and wept bitterly ; and it was a long 
 time before they could obtain a single word from her. 
 
 17. Captain Smith inquired several times what could be 
 the cause of her affliction. " What !" said she, " did I not 
 save thy life in America ? When I was torn from the arms 
 of my father, and conducted amongst thy friends, didst thou 
 not promise to be a father to me ? Didst thou not assure me, 
 that, if I went into thy country, thou wouldst be my father, 
 and that I should be thy daughter ? Thou hast deceived me ; 
 and behold me now here, a stranger and an orphan." 
 
 1.8. It was not difficult for the captain to make his peace 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 151 
 
 with this charming creature, whom he tenderly loved. He 
 presented her to several people of the first quality, but 
 never dared to take her to court, from which, however, she 
 received several favours. 
 
 19. After a residence of several years in England, an ex- 
 ample of virtue and piety, and attachment to her husband, 
 she died, as she was on the point of embarking for America. 
 She left an only son, who was married, and left none but 
 daughters ; and from these are descended some of the prin- 
 pal characters in Virginia. 
 
 Speech of Ca'ius Ma'rius to the Romans; showing 
 the Absurdity of their hesitating to confer on 
 him the Rank of General, merely on Account of 
 his Extraction. 
 
 XT is but too common, my countrymen, to ^bserve a 
 material difference between the behaviour of those who stand 
 candidates for places of power and trust, before and after 
 their obtaining them. They solicit them in one manner, 
 and execute them in another. 
 
 2. They set out with a great appearance of activity, hu- 
 mility and moderation ; but they quickly fall into sloth, pride 
 and avarice. It is undoubtedly no easy matter to discharge, 
 to general satisfaction, the duty of a supreme commander in 
 troublesome times. 
 
 3. You have committed to my conduct the war against Ju- 
 gurtha. The patricians are offended at this. But where would 
 be the wisdom of giving such a command to one of their hon- 
 ourable body ? a person of illustrious birth, of ancient family, 
 of inumerable statues, but -of no experience ! 
 
 4. What service would his long line of dead ancestors, or 
 his multitude of motionless statues, do his country in the day 
 of battle ? What could such a general do, but, in his trepida- 
 tion and inexperience, have recourse to some inferiour com- 
 mander for direction in difficulties to which he was not him- 
 self equal ? Thus your patrician general would in fact have a 
 general over him ; so that the acting commander would still 
 be a ple-be'ian. 
 
152 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 5. So true is this, my countrymen, that I have, myself, 
 known those who have been chosen consuls begin then to 
 read the history of their own country, of which, till that 
 time, they were totally ignorant ; that is, they first obtain- 
 ed the employment, and then bethought themselves of the 
 qualifications necessary for the proper discharge of it. 
 
 6. I submit to your judgment, Romans, on which side 
 the advantage lies, when a comparison is made between 
 patrician haughtiness and plebeian experience. The very 
 actions which they have only read, I have partly seen, and 
 partly myself achieved. What they know by reading I know 
 by action. They are pleased to slight my mean birth ; I de- 
 spise their mean characters. 
 
 7. Want of birth and fortune is the objection against me ; 
 want of personal worth, against them. But are not all men 
 of the same species ? What can make a difference between 
 one man and another, but the endowments of the mind ? For 
 my part, I shall always look upon the bravest man as the 
 noblest man. 
 
 8. If the patricians have reason to despise me, let them 
 likewise despise their ancestors, whose nobility was the fruit 
 of their virtue. Do they envy the honours bestowed upon 
 me 1 let them envy, likewise, my labours, my abstinence, 
 and the dangers I have undergone for my country, by which 
 I have acquired them. 
 
 9. But those worthless men lead such a life of inactivity, 
 as if they despised any honours you can bestow ; while they 
 aspire to honours as if they had deserved them by the most 
 industrious virtue. They lay claim to the rewards of activ- 
 ity for their having enjoyed the pleasures of luxury. Yet 
 none can be more lavish than they are in praise of their 
 ancestors. 
 
 10. And they imagine they honour themselves by celebrat- 
 ing their forefathers ; whereas they do the very contrary ; for, 
 as much as their ancestors were distinguished for their virtues, 
 so much are they disgraced by their vices. 
 
 11. The glory of ancestors casts a light, indeed, upon 
 their posterity ; but it only serves to show what the descen- 
 dants are. It alike exhibits to publick view their degen- 
 eracy and their worth. I own I cannot boast of the deeds 
 of my forefathers ; but I hope I may answer the cavils of 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 153 
 
 the patricians, by standing up in defence of what I have 
 myself done. 
 
 12. Observe now, my countrymen, the injustice of the 
 patricians. They arrogate to the 1 - elves honours, on account 
 of exploits 7 done by their forefathers, whilst they will not allow 
 me due praise for performing the very same sort of actions in 
 my own person. 
 
 13. fie has no statues, they cry, of his family. He can trace 
 no venerable line of ancestors. What then ! is it matter of 
 more praise to disgrace one's illustrious ancestors, than to 
 become illustrious by one's own good behaviour ? 
 
 14. What if I can show no statues of my family? I can 
 show the standards, the armour, and the trappings, which I 
 have myself taken from the vanquished : I can show the 
 scars of those wounds which I have received by facing the 
 enemies of my country. 
 
 15. These are my statues. These are the honours /boast 
 of; not left me by inheritance, as theirs, but earned by toil, 
 by abstinence, by valour, amidst clouds of dust and seas of 
 blood ; scenes of action, where those effeminate patricians, 
 who endeavour, by indirect means, to depreciate me in your 
 esteem, have never dared to show their faces. 
 
 Fraternal Affection. 
 
 JlN the beginning of the sixteenth century, the Portuguese 
 carracks sailed from Lisbon to Goa, a very great, rich and 
 flourishing colony of that nation in the East Indies. There 
 were no less than twelve hundred souls, mariners, passengers, 
 priests and friars, on board one of these vessels. 
 
 2. The beginning of their voyage was prosperous ; they 
 had doubled the southern extremity of the great continent 
 of Africa, called the Cape of Good Hope, and w r ere steer- 
 ing their course northeast, to the great continent of India, 
 when some gentlemen on board, w T ho had studied geogra- 
 phy and navigation, found, in the latitude in which they 
 were then sailing, a large ridge of rocks laid down in their 
 sea charts. 
 
154 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 3. They no sooner made this discovery, than they ac- 
 quainted the captain of the ship with the affair, desiring 
 him to communicate the same to the pilot, which request 
 he immediately granted, recommended him to lie by in the 
 night, and slacken sail by day, until they should be past the 
 danger. 
 
 4. It is a custom always among the Portuguese absolutely 
 to commit the sailing part, or the navigation of the vessel, 
 to the pilot, who is answerable with his head for the safe 
 conduct or carriage of the king's ships, or those belonging 
 to private traders ; and he is under no manner of direction 
 from the captain, who commands in every other respect. 
 
 5. The pilot, being one of those self-sufficient men who 
 think every hint given them from others in the way of their 
 profession derogatory from their understandings, took it as an 
 affront to be taught his art, and, instead of complying with 
 the captain's request, actually crowded more sail than the 
 vessel had carried before. 
 
 6. They had not sailed many hours, when, just about the 
 dawn of day, a terrible disaster befell them, which would have 
 been prevented if they had lain by. The ship struck upon 
 a rock. I leave to the reader's imagination, what a scene 
 of horrour this dreadful accident must occasion among twelve 
 hundred persons, all in the same inevitable danger, behold- 
 ing, with fearful astonishment, that instantaneous death which 
 now stared them in the face. 
 
 7. In this distress, the captain ordered the pinnace to be 
 launched, into which having tossed a small quantity of biscuit, 
 and some boxes of marmalade, he jumped in himself, with 
 nineteen others, who with their swords prevented the coming 
 in of any more, lest the boat should sink. 
 
 8. In this condition they put off into the great Indian 
 ocean, without a compass to steer by, or any fresh water 
 but what might fall from the heavens, whose mercy alone 
 could deliver them. After they had rowed four days in this 
 miserable condition, the captain, who had been for some time 
 very sick and weak, died. 
 
 9. This added, if possible, to their misery ; for, as they 
 now fell into confusion, ever one would govern, and none 
 would obey. This obliged them to elect one of thejr own 
 company to command them, whose orders they implicitly 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 155 
 
 agreed to follow. This person proposed to the company 
 to draw lots, and to cast every fourth man overboard ; as 
 their small stock of provisions was so far spent, as not to be 
 able, at a very short allowance, to sustain life above three days 
 longer. 
 
 10. There were now nineteen persons in all : in this num- 
 ber were a friar and a carpenter, both of whom they would 
 exempt, as the one was useful to absolve and comfort them in 
 their last extremity, and the other to repair the pinnace in case 
 of a leak or other accident. 
 
 11. The same compliment they paid to their new captain, 
 he being the odd man, and his life of much consequence, 
 He refused their indulgence a great while ; but, at last, they 
 obliged him to acquiesce ; so that there were four to die out 
 of the sixteen remaining persons. 
 
 12. The three first submitted to their fate ; the fourth was 
 a Portuguese gentleman, who had a younger brother in the 
 boat, who, seeing him about to be thrown overboard, most 
 tenderly embraced him, and, with tears in his eyes, besought 
 him to let him die in his room ; enforcing his arguments by 
 telling him that he was a married man, and had a wife and 
 children at Goa, beside the care of three sisters, who abso- 
 lutely depended upon him ; that, as for himself, he was sin- 
 gle, and his life of no great importance; he, therefore, conjur- 
 ed him to suffer him to supply his place. 
 
 13. The elder brother, astonished, and melting with this 
 generosity, replied, that, since the divine providence had ap- 
 pointed him to suffer, it would be wicked and unjust to per- 
 mit any other to die for him, especially a brother, to whom 
 he was so infinitely obliged. The younger, persisting in his 
 purpose, would take no denial ; but, throwing himself on his 
 knees, held his brother so fast, that the company could not 
 disengage them. 
 
 14. Thus they disputed for a while, the elder brother bid- 
 ding him to be a father to his children, and recommending 
 his wife to his protection ; and, as he would inherit his es- 
 tate, to take care of their common sisters : but all he could say 
 could not make the younger desist. This was a scene of ten- 
 derness that must fill every breast, susceptible of generous 
 impressions, with pity. At last, the constancy of the elder 
 brother yielded to the piety of the other. 
 
156 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 15. He acquiesced, and suffered the gallant youth to sup- 
 ply his place, who, being cast into the sea, and a good swim- 
 mer, soon got to the stern of the pinnace, and laid hold of the 
 rudder with his right hand, which being perceived by one of 
 the sailors, he cut off the hand with his sword ; then, dropping 
 into the sea, he presently caught hold again with his left, 
 which received the same fate by a second blow. 
 
 16. Thus dismembered of both hands, he made a shift, not- 
 withstanding, to keep himself above water with his feet, and 
 two stumps, which he held bleeding upwards. 
 
 17. This moving spectacle so raised the pity of the whole 
 company, that they cried out, " He is /but one man, let us 
 endeavour to save his life ;" and he was accordingly taken 
 into the boat, where he had his hands bound up as well as the 
 place and circumstances could permit. 
 
 18. They rowed all that night; and, the next morning, 
 when the sun arose, as if Heaven would reward the piety 
 of this young man, they descried land, which proved to be 
 the mountains of Mozambique, in Africa, not far from a Por- 
 tuguese colony. Thither they all safely arrived, where they 
 remained until the next ship from Lisbon passed by, and car- 
 ried them to Goa. 
 
 Conveniences not always Necessaries. 
 
 JoLOW few of what are now considered necessaries really 
 deserve the name. So accustomed are we to the many 
 comforts which the ingenuity of man has procured for us, 
 that we can hardly imagine how people could subsist with- 
 out them. The history of our race, however, furnishes abun- 
 dant proofs that our real wants are few, and many which we 
 cherish are by no means indispensable to our health or happi- 
 ness. 
 
 2. We should, perhaps, find it difficult to dispense with 
 our tea and coffee, and yet it is not two hundred years since 
 these common beverages were first introduced into Europe. 
 Tea is supposed to have been introduced into England in 
 1650, when a pound weight sold for about ten guineas. It 
 was only used by princes and grandees until 1657, when a 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 157 
 
 tea shop was opened in London, and resorted to by all who 
 could afford to drink it. 
 
 3. Probably tea was not in general use in families until 
 after the year 1687. Coffee was introduced into England 
 about the year 1652, and was sold only at publick houses, 
 which, from that circumstance, acquired the name of coffee 
 houses. These soon became the resort of literary men and 
 politicians ; and, on that account, rather than from any hostil- 
 ity to the berry itself, these houses were all shut up by royal 
 proclamation in 1675. 
 
 4. Previous to the introduction of tea and coffee into 
 England, the people were accustomed to drink beer and 
 wine ; but their use had long been known, in the east. The 
 Chinese were the first who prepared tea; and the follow- 
 ing anecdote will show that they are at least as whimsical 
 as Europeans, while it proves that the virtues attributed to 
 tea are either imaginary, or may be found in many plants in 
 our own country, whose cheapness has prevented them from 
 being noticed. 
 
 5. When the Dutch first visited China, they could not 
 obtain their tea without disbursing money; but, on their 
 second voyage, they carried a great quantity of dried sage, 
 and bartered it with the Chinese at the rate of three or 
 four pounds of tea for one of sage ; but at length the Dutch 
 could not procure a sufficient quantity of sage to supply the 
 demand. 
 
 6. Tobacco, which is now consumed in such quantities 
 under various forms, was first brought to England from Amer- 
 ica by Sir Francis Drake and Sir Walter Raleigh,* about the 
 year 1586, and met with an early and most violent opposition. 
 The use of it was exclaimed against by the clergy and physi- 
 cians, and even king James wrote a book against it, entitled 
 " The Counter-Blast to Tobacco." 
 
 7. In 1580, the usual dinner hour among the upper classes 
 in England was eleven in- the forenoon ; and wooden trench- 
 ers for plates were still to be found at the most sumptuous ta- 
 bles in 1592. Forks were not introduced into England be- 
 fore 1611, previous to which time the fingers had been the 
 sole substitute. A writer of that day mentions the invention 
 of forks to the great saving of napkins. 
 
 * Pronounced Ravo'ley. 
 
 u 
 
158 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 8. Potatoes, that infinitely useful root, which forms almost 
 an indispensable part of our daily meal, and, in some coun- 
 tries, often the entire meal of the poor man, were introduced 
 into Europe by Sir Walter Raleigh on his return from one of 
 his voyages to America. A writer of celebrity remarks, that, 
 in justice to that great man, the potato deserved to have been 
 called a Raleigh. 
 
 9. Carpets are now an article of considerable importance, 
 yet, in the year 1580, the floors of the first mansions in Eng- 
 land were only strewed with common rushes. Coaches were 
 first introduced into that kingdom from Holland, in 1564, 
 when, says a writer of that day, " the sight of one put both 
 man and horse into amazement.' ' 
 
 10. Cards are now the most general, although often 
 abused, means of amusement, and are used in almost every 
 civilized country by botli prince and peasant ; yet it is not 
 many centuries since they were invented in France for the 
 entertainment of the court. Hats were not worn by men un- 
 til about the year 1400, previous to which time they wore 
 hoods and cloth caps. 
 
 11. We are so accustomed to the conveniences of modern 
 dwellings, that we should find it difficult to live in houses 
 without chimneys or windows ; but glass was not used in pri- 
 vate houses until the year 1180, and chimneys were not known 
 in the year 1200. 
 
 12. Pins are very common, and extremely cheap, although 
 they pass through the hands of twenty workmen before they 
 are ready for sale. They were invented in 1543, before which 
 time the ladies used small skewers. The consumption of this 
 little article is now prodigious, and, in England alone, several 
 thousand persons are employed in the pin manufactories. 
 
 13. Sugar has long been used, but the consumption of 
 this article is far greater now than it has been at any former 
 period. The consumption of ardent spirits, which has so 
 rapidly increased during the last century, for the extent of 
 its influence on the character of mankind, has no parallel in 
 the catal&gue of luxuries. Other luxuries are innocent, or only 
 affect the property of those who use them, but the introduc- 
 tion of ardent spirits, like the blast of the desert, has tainted 
 or destroyed the health, morals, and, consequently, the happi- 
 ness of millions. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 159 
 
 14. Commerce, since the fifteenth century, has rapidly 
 spread these luxuries over the world, and the rulers of the na- 
 tions have contrived to collect an immense revenue from them. 
 They were chiefly brought to America from England, and the 
 attempt of the mother country to impose a duty on tea import- 
 ed into her colonies, without their consent, involved a princi- 
 ple, which produced that spirited resistance to her usurpations 
 called the war of independence. 
 
 The Hottentot and the Lion. 
 
 A.N elderly Hottentot in the service of a Christian, near 
 the upper part of Sunday river on the Cambdedo side, perceiv- 
 ed a lion following him at a great distance for two hours to- 
 gether. Thence he naturally concluded, that the lion only 
 waited for the approach of darkness, in order to make him a 
 prey ; and, in the mean time, could not expect any other than 
 to serve for this fierce animal's supper ; inasmuch as he had 
 no other weapon* of defence than a stick, and he knew that 
 he could not get home before it was dark. 
 
 2. But, as he was well acquainted with the nature of the 
 lion, and the manner of its seizing upon its prey, and, at 
 the same time, had leisure to ruminate on the ways and 
 means in which it was most likely that his existence would 
 be terminated, he at length hit on a method of saving his 
 life. 
 
 3. For this purpose, instead of making the best of his 
 way home, he looked out for a precipice ; and, setting him- 
 self down on the edge of it, found, to his great joy, that the 
 lion likewise made a halt, and kept at the same distance as 
 before. 
 
 4. As soon as it grew dark, the Hottentot, sliding a little 
 forwards, let himself down below the upper edge of the preci- 
 pice upon some projecting part or cleft of the rock, where he 
 could just keep himself from falling. But, in order to cheat 
 the lion still more, he set his hat and cloak on the stick, mak- 
 ing with it a gentle motion just over his head, a little way 
 from the edge of the precipice. 
 
 * Pronounced wty'pn, 
 
160 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 5. This crafty expedient had the desired success. He did 
 not stay long in that situation, before the lion came creeping 
 softly towards him like a cat, and, mistaking the skin coat for 
 the Hottentot himself, took his leap with such exactness and 
 precision, as to fall headlong down the precipice, and was 
 dashed in pieces. 
 
 Scene between Gustavus Vasa and Cristiern. 
 
 Crist. JL ELL me, Gustavus, tell me why is this, 
 That, as a stream diverted from the banks 
 Of smooth obedience, thou hast drawn those men 
 Upon a dry, unchannelled enterprise, 
 To turn their inundation ? Are the lives 
 Of my misguided people held so light, 
 That thus thoud'st push them on the keen rebuke 
 Of guarded majesty ; where justice waits, 
 All awful and resistless, to assert 
 Th 5 impervious rights, the sanctitude of kings, 
 4-nd blast rebellion ? 
 
 Gust. Justice, sanctitude, 
 And rights ! O, patience ! Rights ! what rights, thou tyrant 1 
 Yes, if perdition be the rule of power, 
 If wrongs give right, O then, supreme in mischief, 
 Thou wert the lord, the monarch of the world ! 
 Too narrow for thy claim. But if thou think'st 
 That^rowns are vilely propertied, like coin, 
 To be the means, the speciality of lust, 
 And sensual attribution ; if thou think'st 
 That empire is of titled birth or blood ; 
 That nature, in the proud behalf of one, 
 Shall disenfranchise all her lordly race, 
 And bow her general issue to the «yoke 
 Of private domination ; then, thou proud one, 
 Here know me for thy king. Howe'er, be told, 
 Not claim hereditary, not the trust 
 Of frank election, 
 Not even the high, anointing hand of Heaven, 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 161 
 
 Can authorize oppression, give a law 
 
 For lawless power, wed faith to violation, 
 
 On reason build misrule, or justly bind 
 
 Allegiance to injustice. Tyranny 
 
 Absolves all faith ; and who invades our rights, 
 
 Howe'er his own commence, can never be 
 
 But an usurper. But for thee, for thee 
 
 There is no name. Thou hast abjured mankind, 
 
 Dashed safety from thy bleak, unsocial side, 
 
 And waged wild war with universal nature. 
 
 Q*ist . Licentious traitor ! thou canst talk it largely. 
 Who made thee umpire of the rights of kings, f 
 
 And power, prime attribute ; as on thy tongue 
 The poise of battle lay, and arms of force, 
 To throw defiance in the front of duty ? 
 Look round, unruly boy ! Thy battle comes 
 Like raw, disjointed, mustering, feeble wrath, 
 A war of waters, borne against a rock 
 Of our firm continent, to fume, and chafe, 
 And shiver in the toil. 
 
 Crust Mistaken man ! 
 I come empowered and strengthened in thy weakness ; 
 For, though the structure of a tyrant's throne 
 Rise on the necks of half the suffering world, 
 Fear trembles in the cement ; prayers, and tears, 
 And secret curses, sap its mouldering base, 
 And steal the pillars of allegiance from it ; 
 Then let a single arm but dare the sway, 
 Headlong it turns, and drives upon destruction. 
 
 Crist. Profane, and alien to the love of Heaven ! 
 Art thou still hardened to the wrath divine, 
 That hangs o'er thy rebellion ? Knowest thou not 
 Thou art at enmity with grace, cast out, 
 Made an anathema, a curse enrolled 
 Among the faithful, thou and thy adherents, 
 Shorn from our holy church, and offered up 
 As sacred to perdition ? 
 
 Ghist. Yes, I know, 
 When such as thou, with sacrilegious hand, 
 Seize on the apostolick key of heaven, 
 It then becomes a tool for crafty knares 
 14* 
 
162 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 * 
 
 To shut out virtue, and unfold those gates 
 
 That heaven itself had barred against the lusts 
 
 Of avarice and ambition. Soft and sweet, 
 
 As looks of charity, or voice of lambs 
 
 That bleat upon -the mountain, are the words 
 
 Of Christian meekness ! mission all divine ! 
 
 The law of love, sole mandate. But your gall, 
 
 Ye Swedish prel'acy, your gall hath turned 
 
 The words of sweet, but undigested peace, 
 
 To wrath and bitterness. Ye hallowed men, 
 
 In whom vice sanctifies, whose precepts teach 
 
 Zeal without truth, religion without virtue, 
 
 Sacked towns and midnight howlings, through the realm, 
 
 Receive your sanction. O, 'tis glorious mischief! 
 
 When vice turns holy, puts religion on, 
 
 Assumes the robe pontifical, the eye 
 
 Of saintly elevation, blesseth sin, 
 
 And makes the seal of sweet, offended Heaven 
 
 A sign of blood. 
 
 Crist. No more of this. 
 Gustavus, would' st thou yet return to grace, 
 And hold thy motions in the sphere of duty, 
 Acceptance might be found. 
 
 Gust . Imperial spoiler ! 
 Give me my father, give me back my kindred, 
 Give me the fathers of ten thousand orphans, 
 Give me the sons in whom thy ruthless sword 
 Has left our widows childless. Mine they were, 
 Both mine and every Swede's, whose patriot breast 
 Bleeds in his country's woundings. O, thou canst not ! 
 Thou hast outsinned all reckoning ! Give me then 
 My all that's left, my gentle mother there, 
 And spare yon little trembler. 
 
 Crist. Yes, on terms 
 Of compact and submission. 
 
 Gust. Ha ! with thee ! 
 Compact with thee ! and mean'st thou for my country ? 
 For Sweden ? No, so hold my heart but firm, 
 Although it wring for't, though blood drop for tears, 
 And at the sight my straining eyes start forth — 
 They both sh Jl perish first. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 163 
 
 Narrative of the extraordinary Adventures of 
 four Sailors, who were cast away on the desert 
 Island of Spitsbergen. 
 
 X HESE northern seas, owing to the excessive cold of the 
 climate, are frequently so full of ice, as to render it exceed- 
 ingly hazardous to ships, which are thereby exposed to the 
 danger of being crushed between two immense bodies of ice, 
 or of being so completely surrounded, as to deprive them of 
 every power of moving from the spot. 
 
 2. In this latter alarming situation were the crew of a 
 Russian ship. A council was immediately held, when the 
 mate mentioned what he recollected to have heard, that a 
 ship's crew from Mesen, some time before, had formed a res- 
 olution of passing the winter upon this island, and for that 
 purpose had carried timber proper for building a hut at a lit- 
 tle distance from the shore. 
 
 3. This information led the whole company to form the 
 resolution of wintering there, should the hut be fortunately re- 
 maining. They were induced to adopt this measure from the 
 certainty of perishing should they remain in the ship. They, 
 therefore, deputized four of their crew to go in search of the 
 hut, and make what further discoveries they could. 
 
 4. As no human creature inhabited the skore on which they 
 were to land, it was absolutely necessary for them to carry 
 some provisions with them for their support. They had to 
 make their way, for nearly two miles, over loose heaps of ice, 
 which the water had raised, and the wind had driven against 
 each other ; and this made it equally difficult and dangerous. 
 
 5. From this consideration, they avoided loading them- 
 selves too much with provisions, lest their weight might sink 
 them between the pieces of ice, where they must inevitably 
 perish. 
 
 6. Having previously considered all these matters, they 
 provided themselves only with a musket, and powder horn, con- 
 taining twelve charges of powder and ball, an axe, a small 
 kettle, a bag with about twenty pounds of flour, a knife, a tin- 
 der-box and tinder, a bladder filled with tobacco, and every 
 man his wooden pipe. 
 
164 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 7. Thus poorly equipped, these four sailors reached the 
 island, little thinking what they were to endure while they 
 remained on it. After exploring some small part of the 
 country, they discovered the hut they were in pursuit of, 
 at the distance of about an English mile and a half from the 
 shore. 
 
 8. Its length was thirty-six feet, and its height and breadth 
 eighteen. It consisted of a small anti-chamber about twelve 
 feet broad, having two doors, the one to exclude the outer air, 
 and the other to form a communication with the inner room. 
 This contributed not a little to keep the larger room warm 
 when it was once heated. 
 
 9. They found in the large room an earthen stove, con- 
 structed in the Russian manner. They rejoiced exceedingly 
 at this discovery, though they found the hut had suffered very 
 much from the severity of the weather, it having been built a 
 considerable time. However, they contrived to make it sup- 
 portable for that night. 
 
 10. The next morning early, they repaired to the shore, in 
 order to acquaint their comrades* with their success, and also 
 to get from the vessel such provisions, ammunition and other 
 necessaries, as might, in some measure, enable them to strug- 
 gle with the approaching winter. 
 
 11. But what pen can properly describe the terrible sit- 
 uation of their minds, when, coming to the place at which 
 they landed, they discovered nothing but an open sea, clear 
 of all ice, though, but a day before, it had covered the 
 ocean ! During the night, a violent storm had arisen, which 
 had been the cause of this change of appearance in the 
 ocean. 
 
 12. Whether the ice, which had before surrounded the 
 vessel, being put in motion by the violence of the winds and 
 waves, had crushed the ship to pieces, or whether she had 
 been carried by the current into the main ocean, it was impos- 
 sible for them to determine. 
 
 13. However, they saw the ship no more ; and, as she was 
 never afterwards heard of, it is most likely that she went to 
 the bottom with every soul on board. This dreadful event de- 
 prived the poor, unhappy wretches of all hopes of ever again 
 seeing their native country. 
 
 * Pronounced kum'rqdz. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR,. 165 
 
 14. They returned to their hut, and there bewailed their 
 deplorable lot, more, perhaps, to be pitied, than those who 
 were buried in the bosom of the deep. Their thoughts were, 
 of com.se, first directed to procure subsistence, and to repair 
 their hut. 
 
 15. Their twelve charges of powder and shot soon pro- 
 cured them as many raindeer, of which there fortunately 
 happened to be many on the island. They then set about 
 repairing their hut, and filled up all the crevices, through 
 which the air found its way, with the moss that grew there in 
 plenty. 
 
 16. As it was impossible to live in that climate without 
 fire, and as no wood grew upon the island, they were much 
 alarmed on that account. However, in their wanderings over 
 the beach, they met with plenty of wood, which had been 
 driven on shore by the waves. 
 
 17. This principally consisted of the wrecks of ships; but 
 sometimes whole trees with their roots came on shore, the un- 
 doubted produce of some more hospitable clime, which were 
 washed from their native soil by the overflowing of rivers, or 
 some other accident. 
 
 18. As soon as their powder and shot were exhausted, 
 they began to be in dread of perishing with hunger ; but 
 good fortune, and their own ingenuity, to which necessity 
 always gives a spur, removed these dreadful apprehensions. 
 In the course of their traversing the beach, they one day dis- 
 covered some boards, in which were large hooks and nails in 
 abundance. 
 
 19. By the assistance of these, they made spears and ar- 
 rows ; and, from a yew tree, which had been thrown on shore 
 by the waves, they formed plenty of bows. With these weap- 
 ons, during the time of their continuance on the island, they 
 killed upwards of two hundred and fifty raindeer, besides a 
 great number of blue and white foxes. 
 
 20. The flesh of these animals served them for food, and 
 their skins were equally useful in supplying them with warm 
 clothing. The number of white bears they killed was 
 only ten ; for these animals, being very strong, defended 
 themselves with great vigour and fury, and even ventured 
 to make their appearance frequently at the door of their 
 
166 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 hut, from whence they were driven with some difficulty and 
 danger. 
 
 21. Thus these three different sorts of animals were the 
 only food of these miserable mariners during their long and 
 dreary abode on this island. 
 
 22. The intenseness of the cold, and the want of proper 
 conveniences, rendered it impossible for them to cook their 
 victuals properly, so that they were obliged to eat their pro- 
 visions almost raw, and without bread or salt. 
 
 23. There was but one stove in the hut, and that, being 
 in the Russian manner, was not proper for boiling. How- 
 ever, to remedy this inconvenience as much as possible, they 
 dried some of their provisions, during the summer, in the 
 open air, and then hung them up in the upper part of the hut, 
 which being continually filled with smoke, they thus became 
 thoroughly dried. 
 
 24. This they used instead of bread, which made them 
 relish their half-boiled meat the better. They procured 
 their water in summer from the rivulets that fell from the 
 rocks ; and, in the winter, from snow and ice thawed. This 
 was their only drink ; and their small kettle was the only con- 
 venience they had to make use of for this and many other pur- 
 poses. 
 
 25. As it was necessary to keep up a continual fire, they 
 were particularly cautious not to let the light be extinguish- 
 ed ; for, though they had both steel and flints, yet they had 
 no tinder ; and it would have been a terrible thing to be with- 
 out light in a climate where darkness reigns so many months 
 during the winter. 
 
 26. They therefore fashioned a kind of lamp, which they 
 filled with raindeer fat, and stuck into it some twisted linen, 
 shaped in the form of a wick. After many trials, they at last 
 brought their lamp to complete perfection, and kept it burn- 
 ing, without intermission, from the day they first made it, till 
 they embarked for their native country. 
 
 27. They also found themselves in want of shoes, boots, 
 and other necessary articles of dress, for all which they found 
 wonderful resources in that genius to which necessity gives 
 birth. 
 
 28. Having lived more than six years upon this dreary 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 167 
 
 and inhospitable island, a ship happened to arrive there, which 
 took three of them on board, and carried them back to their 
 native country. The fourth man was seized with the scurvy, 
 and being naturally indolent, and not using proper exercise, he 
 died, after lingering for some time, when his companions bur- 
 ied him in the snow. 
 
 Pedigree. — A Dialogue between Mary and her 
 Aunt Betty. 
 
 Mary. A.UNT BETTY, why are you always mending 
 that old picture 1 
 
 Aunt Betty. Okl picture ! miss, and pray who told you to 
 call it an old picture 1 
 
 Mary. Pray, aunt, is it not an old picture? I am sure it 
 looks ragged enough. 
 
 Aunt B. And pray, niece, is it not ten times more valu- 
 able on that account ? I wish I could ever make you enter- 
 tain a proper respect for your family. 
 
 Mary. Do I not respect the few that remain of them, and 
 yourself among the rest ? But what has that old — what shall 
 I call it, to do with our family ? 
 
 Aunt B. It is our family coat-of-airns; the only document 
 which remains to establish the nobility and purity of our 
 blood. 
 
 Mary. What is purity of blood, aunt? I am sure I have 
 heard Mrs. Pimpleton say your complexion was almost or- 
 ange, and she believed it arose from some /mpurity of the 
 blood. 
 
 Aunt B. Tut, tut ! you hussy, I am sure rny complexion 
 will not suffer by a comparison with any of the Pimpleton race. 
 But that is neither here nor there : it matters not what the 
 complexion is, or the present state of the blood, provided the 
 source is pure. Do people drink the less water because it 
 filtrates through clay? 
 
 Mary. But what is pure and noble blood, aunt ? 
 
 Aunt B. Blood, my dear, which has proceeded from some 
 
168 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 great and celebrated man through the veins of many gen- 
 erations, without any mixture with vulgar blood. 
 
 Mary. Then whom did we proceed from, aunt Betty ? 
 
 Aunt B. From Sir Gregory Mc Grincell, who lived in 
 the time of Elizabeth, and left sons a dozen, from the 
 youngest of whom, James Mc Grincell, gentleman, we are 
 descended. 
 
 Mary. What does a gentleman mean, aunt? 
 
 Aunt B. It means one who has too high a sense of his 
 ancestry to engage in any of what are vulgarly called the 
 useful employments. 
 
 Mary. It must mean a lazy man, then, I should think. 
 Was he not extremely poor, aunt ? 
 
 Aunt B. Poor ! What is poverty in the scale of nobility? 
 It is the glory of our house that they have always preferred 
 honourable poverty to disgraceful industry. 
 
 Mary. Why, aunt, every body does not think as you do. 
 I heard the parson's wife say you would be a better Chris- 
 tian, and serve your Maker more faithfully, by doing some- 
 thing profitable, than by spending your time in idleness, and 
 depending upon the church for support. 
 
 Aunt B. She had better mind her own business, and not 
 slander her parishioners. Mighty well, indeed, if the de- 
 scendant of Sir Gregory Mc Grincell is to be taught her 
 duty to her ancestors by the daughter of a ploughman, and 
 the wife of a country parson. 
 
 Mary. I am sure she is a very good woman, and my 
 mother considers her a pattern of humility. 
 
 Aunt B. Did she display her humility in walking before 
 me at the deacon's funeral ? Answer me that. 
 
 Mary. She had not the arrangement of the procession, 
 aunt. 
 
 Aunt B. She ought to have known her place, however. 
 I shall take care how I go to any more vulgar funerals to be 
 insulted, I promise you. 
 
 Mary. I cannot see what should make us better than our 
 neighbours, for my mother once told me that- your grand- 
 father was only an hostler. 
 
 Aunt B. Your mother takes a great deal of pains to ex- 
 pose the dark spots in our escutcheon. But did she ever 
 tell you that when my grandfather was engaged in that 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR 169 
 
 profession, it was customary for gentlemen to be their own 
 grooms ? No, I'll warrant not. 
 
 Mary. Then there is no disgrace in any employment, if 
 it be only fashionable ? 
 
 Aunt B. None at all, my dear ; for Count Rumford was a 
 cook, and Sir Isaac Newton a spectacle maker. 
 
 Mary. But of what use is our noble blood in this country, 
 aunt, where merit alone is respected ? 
 
 Aunt B. Merit, indeed ! and what have we to do with 
 merit ? It is well enough for those of vulgar origin to possess 
 merit ; the well born do not need it. 
 
 Mary. How did our great ancestor obtain his title, then ? 
 
 Aunt B. O, to be sure, the founder of a family must do 
 something to deserve his title. 
 
 Mary. What did Sir Gregory do ? 
 
 Aunt B. Do ! why he painted so flattering a likeness of 
 Queen Elizabeth, that she knighted him immediately. 
 
 Mary. Then he was a painter by trade? 
 
 Aunt B. By trade I The minx will drive me distracted. 
 Be it known to you, miss, we have never had a tradesman 
 in our family, and I trust I never shall live to see it so de- 
 graded. Painting was merely Sir Gregory's profession. 
 
 Mary. I hope I shall learn . in time to make the proper 
 distinctions, but I fear it will be difficult, for my mother 
 always taught me to allow no other distinction than that of 
 personal worth ; and I must confess I do not see the propriety 
 of any other. 
 
 Aunt B. No, and I presume you never will, while your 
 mother entertains her present low ideas of meritorious industry ^ 
 as she is pleased to call the occupation of those who are mean 
 enough to work for their living. I did hope to make you sen- 
 sible of the dignity of your descent ; but I now find I must look 
 elsewhere for an heir to my invaluable legacy, this precious, 
 precious coat-of-arms. 
 
 Description of the Falls of Niagara. 
 
 jtIlMONG the many natural curiosities which this country 
 affords, the cataract of Niagara is infinitely the greatest. In order 
 to have a tolerable idea of this stupendous fall of water, it will 
 15 
 
170 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 be necessary to conceive that part of the country in which Lake 
 Erie is situated to be elevated above that which contains Lake 
 Ontario about three hundred feet. 
 
 2. Figure to yourself the first collection of these waters, 
 at a distance of more that two thousand miles, passing through 
 the Lake of the Woods, and several smaller ones, and at length 
 falling into Lake Superiour, which is at least sixteen hundred 
 miles in circumference, and is supplied by more than thirty 
 considerable rivers. 
 
 3. This vast body of water passes into Lake Huron, which 
 is eight hundred miles in circumference, where, meeting the 
 waters of Lake Michigan, which is larger than Lake Huron, it 
 continues its course into Lake Erie, which is nearly eight hun- 
 dred miles in circuit. 
 
 4. This immense collection of water then rushes down 
 the Niagara river to the frontier* of what may be called 
 the upper country, where, with astonishing grandeur ,f it is 
 precipitated down a perpendicular precipice of about one 
 hundred and seventy-six feet, which forms the celebrated 
 cataract of Niagara. 
 
 5. The Canada shore affords the most satisfactory view 
 of these falls, as the greatest body of water descends upon 
 that side ; but the view from the other side is not without 
 its peculiar beauties. That part of the Canada shore 
 which presents a full view of the fails, is called the Table 
 Rock. It is the nearest point which may be approached 
 with safety, as it is just upon the margin of the great sheet of 
 falling water. 
 
 6. From this spot you have a fair view of the whole falls, 
 rushing with such incredible swiftness over the precipice to 
 the unfathomable abyss beneath, that, when you first fix your 
 eye upon the descending mass, you involuntarily shudder, and 
 retreat as if fearful of being overwhelmed in the vast descent 
 of waters. 
 
 7. The current of the Niagara river begins to grow very 
 strong more than two miles above the falls, so that, in order 
 to cross over in safety, it is necessary to ascend a mile fur- 
 ther. The first mile above the falls exhibits one continued 
 scene of foaming billows, dashing and rebounding against 
 hidden and projecting rocks. The descent of the rapids 
 
 * Pronounced frdnt'yeer. t gran'jur. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 171 
 
 is probably not less than one hundred feet within the last 
 mile, and the noise and confusion of the water are only 
 surpassed by the fall itself. 
 
 8. While at a very great distance, a volume of clouds may 
 be observed hovering over the falls. In a clear day, they 
 appear very high and white, while, on the contrary, in 
 heavy, cloudy weather, they sink lower, and acquire a smoky 
 appearance. These clouds proceed from the vapours arising 
 from the spray caused by the dashing of the waters. 
 
 9. As you proceed down the river on the American side, 
 Goat Island, which divides the falls, is seen at no great dis- 
 tance on the left. The river between is full of rocks, and 
 here and there you perceive considerable lodgements of drift- 
 ed wood, apparently waiting for a rise of the river, in order to 
 launch themselves over the falls. 
 
 10. You may approach equally as near the falling sheet on 
 this as on the opposite side of the river, and, by taking a prop- 
 er station in the morning of a clear day, you will behold 
 beneath your feet a beautiful and variegated rainbow, stretch- 
 ing from shore to shore, and perpetually rolling, as if it in- 
 tended to confound all its brilliant colours into one confused 
 mass, while each still remains separate and distinct. 
 
 11. You may advance so near to the cataract on either 
 side as to wash your hands in the falling water, -but in a few 
 minutes you will be wet to the skin. This is owing to the 
 abundance of vapour which is continually falling ; and this 
 constant humidity has covered the rocks below the falls with 
 a luxuriant growth of grass, sometimes . of extraordinary 
 length. 
 
 12. The river is about a mile wide at the falls. Goat 
 Island, which divides the falls, contains about twenty acres 
 of land, and is situated nearest the American side. A pas- 
 sage to this island was accidentally discovered several years 
 ago, and many were sufficiently adventurous to visit it. 
 Through the exertions of a distinguished individual, who 
 resides near the spot, the difficulties are now removed, and 
 a passage to the island, or a descent to the bottom of the falls, 
 is easily performed. i 
 
 13. The falls are daily making inroads on this island, as 
 well as on the banks and general foundation of the river. 
 There is a tradition of another small island, near that just 
 
172 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 mentioned, and it is entitled to some credit, as eight or ten 
 large rocks, lying very near the edge of the falls, are still 
 perceptible, and are probably the last fragments of the little 
 island alluded to. 
 
 14. From the greater body of water passing off on the 
 Canada side, the rocks, or foundation of the falls, are sub- 
 ject to greater inroads than on the other part. It is even 
 conjectured, from the appearance of the river below the 
 falls, that they were once several miles lower down, but, as 
 their situation has not materially altered since they were 
 first discovered by Europeans, so great a change could not 
 have taken place unless caused by some tremendous con- 
 vulsion of nature. 
 
 15. The falls, when seen from Goat Island, have the ap- 
 pearance of an irregular horse-shoe, with one side of the 
 curve longer than the other, the longest being on the 
 American side. Two miles below the falls is a very singu- 
 lar whirlpool, caused by an abrupt turn of the river, which, 
 from the depression of its centre, has the appearance of 
 water in a huge tunnel. 
 
 16. Trees of one hundred feet in length, with a great 
 part of their branches, are here frequently seen spinning 
 round, until by constant friction, or coming in contact with 
 each other, they are at length broken to pieces. Sometimes 
 they are drawn under, and disappear a few minutes, and then 
 show themselves again, and resume their former circular mo- 
 tion ; while at other times they disappear altogether. 
 
 17. It has been asserted by some writers, that the force 
 of the current caused the sheet to project so far beyond a 
 perpendicular, that a man at the bottom might walk between 
 the falling sheet and the rocks. But later travellers, after 
 repeated experiments, assert that the compression of air 
 between the water and the rocks is so great, that no living 
 creature ever has or ever can pass betwixt them. 
 
 18. Immediately below the falls are several small eddies, 
 where there is excellent fishing ; but the difficulty of as- 
 cending and descending is too great to compensate an or- 
 dinary sportsman. Along the shore are found many curi- 
 ous pieces of timber, deposited by the higher water, as it 
 were for samples of the forms and varieties which are con- 
 tinually ground in the great water works of Niagara. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 173 
 
 19. Various accounts have been given of the height of the 
 great pitch, but the only instance of actual measurement 
 which we have known, is recorded in a manuscript Tour to the 
 Falls of Niagara, in the year 1806. The author* provided him- 
 self with a line, which was lowered from the edge of Table rock, 
 and held perpendicularly by a person below. The line, which, 
 after all allowance for shrinking, measured 176 feet, has since 
 been deposited in the collection of a literary institution. 
 
 Messiah, a sacred Eclogue. 
 
 jL E nymphs of Sol'yma, begin the song : 
 To heavenly themes sublimer strains belong. 
 The mossy fountains and the sylvan shades, 
 The dreams of Pindus and th' Aonian maids, 
 ^Delight no more. O thou my voice inspire, 
 Who touched Isaiah 7 sf hallowed lips with fire ! 
 
 2. Rapt into future times, the bard begun : 
 A Virgin shall conceive, a Virgin bear a son ! 
 From Jesse's root behold a branch arise, 
 
 Whose sacred flower with fragrance fills the skies : 
 The ethereal Spirit o'er its leaves shall move, 
 And on its top descend the my stick Dove. 
 
 3. Ye heavens, from high the dewy nectar pour, 
 And in soft silence shed the kindly shower; 
 
 The sick and weak the healing plant shall aid, 
 From storms a shelter, and from heat a shade ; 
 All crimes shall cease, and ancient fraud shall fail, 
 Returning justice lift aloft her scale, 
 Peace o'er the world her olive wand extend, 
 And white-robed innocence from heaven descend. 
 
 4. Swift fly the years, and rise th' expected morn ! 
 Oh ! spring to light ; auspicious Babe, be born ! 
 See, nature hastes her earliest wreaths to bring, 
 With all the incense of the breathing spring ; 
 
 See lofty Lebanon his head advance, 
 See nodding forests on the mountains dance ; 
 See spicy c'ouds from lowly Sharon rise, 
 And Carmel's flowery top perfume the skies ! 
 
 # The late Caleb Bingham, of Boston. • t Pronounced Lzav'az. 
 
 15* 
 
174 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 5. Hark ! a glad voice the lonely desert cheers . 
 Prepare the way ! a God, a God appears ! 
 
 A God ! a God ! the vocal hills reply ; 
 The rocks proclaim the approaching Deity. 
 
 6. Lo, earth receives him from the bending skies ! 
 Sink down, ye mountains, and ye valleys, rise ! 
 With heads declined, ye cedars, homage pay ; 
 
 Be smooth, ye rocks ; ye rapid floods, give way ! 
 The Saviour comes ! by ancient bards foretold : 
 Hear him, ye deaf! # and all ye blind, behold ! 
 
 7. He from thick films shall purge the visual ray, 
 And on the sightless eye-ball pour the day : 
 
 He the obstructed paths of sound shall clear, 
 And bid new musick charm the unfolding ear ; 
 The dumb shall sing, the lame his crutch forego, 
 And leap exulting like the bounding roe. 
 
 8. No sigh, no murmur, the wide world shall hear ; 
 From every face he wipes off every tear. 
 
 In adamantine chains shall death be bound, 
 And hell's grim tyrant feel the eternal wound. 
 
 9. As the good shepherd tends his fleecy care, 
 Seeks freshest pasture and the purest air, 
 Explores the lost, the wandering sheep directs, 
 By day o'ersees them, and by night protects ; 
 The tender lambs he raises in his arms, 
 
 Feeds from his hand, and in his bosom warms ; 
 Thus shall mankind his guardian care engage, 
 The promised Father of the future age. 
 
 10. No more shall nation against nation rise, 
 Nor ardent warriours meet with hateful eyes, 
 Nor fields with gleaming steel be covered o'er, 
 The brazen trumpets kindle rage no more ; 
 But useless lances into sithes shall bend, 
 
 And the broad falchionf in a ploughshare end. 
 
 11. Then palaces shall rise ; the joyful son 
 Shall finish what his shortlived sire begun ; 
 Their vines a shadow to their race shall yield* 
 And the same hand that sowed shall reap the field. 
 
 12. The swain in barren deserts, with surprise, 
 See lilies spring, and sudden verdure rise ; 
 
 * Pronounced d2f. \ fall 1 shun. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 175 
 
 And start, amidst the thirsty wilds, to hear 
 New falls of water murmuring in his ear. 
 
 13. On rifted rocks, the dragon's late abodes, 
 The green reed trembles and the bulrush nods ; 
 Waste, sandy valleys, once perplexed with thorn, 
 The spiry fir and shapely box adorn ; 
 
 To leafless shrubs the flowering palms succeed, 
 And odious myrtle to the noisome weed. 
 
 14. The lambs with wolves shall graze the verdant mead, 
 And boys in flowery bands the tiger lead ; 
 
 The steer and lion at one crib shall meet, 
 And harmless serpents lick the pilgrim's feet ; 
 The smiling infant in his hand shall take 
 The crested basilisk and speckled snake, 
 Pleased, the green lustre of their scales survey, 
 And with their forky tongues shall innocently play. 
 
 15. Rise, crowned with light, imperial Salem, rise ! 
 Exalt thy towery head, and lift thy eyes ! 
 
 See a long race thy spacious courts adorn ; 
 See future sons and daughters, yet unborn, 
 In crowding ranks on every side arise, 
 Demanding life, impatient for the skies ! 
 See barbarous nations at thy gates attend, 
 Walk in thy light, and in thy temple bend. 
 
 16. See thy bright altars thronged with prostrate king3, 
 And heaped with products of Sabeean springs ! 
 
 For thee Idu'me's spicy forests blow, 
 And seeds of gold in Ophir's mountain glow. 
 See heaven its sparkling portals wide display, 
 And break upon thee in a flood of day. 
 
 17. No more the rising sun shall gild the morn, 
 Nor evening Cynthia fill her silver horn ; 
 
 But lost, dissolved in thy superiour rays, 
 One tide of glory, one unclouded blaze, 
 O'erflow thy courts : the Light himself shall shine 
 Revealed, and God's eternal day be thine. 
 
 18. The seas shall waste, the skies in smoke decay, 
 Rocks fall to dust, and mountains melt away ; 
 
 But fixed his word, his saving power remains : 
 Thy realm for ever lasts, thy own Messiah reigns ! 
 
176 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Narrative of the Captivity of Mrs. Jemima Howe, 
 
 TAKEN EY THE INDIANS, AT HlNSDALE, NeW-HaMP- 
 
 shire, July 27, 1755. 
 
 AS Messrs. Caleb Howe, Hilkiah Grout, and Benjamin 
 Gaffield, who had been hoeing corn in the meadow, west of 
 the river, were returning home, a little before sunset, to a 
 place called Bridgman's Fort, they were fired upon by twelve 
 Indians, who had ambushed their path. 
 
 2. Howe was on horseback, with two young lads, his chil- 
 dren, behind him. A ball, which broke his thigh, brought 
 him to the ground. His horse ran a few rods, and fell like- 
 wise, and both the lads were taken. The Indians, in their 
 savage manner, coming up to Howe, pierced his body with a 
 spear, tore off his. scalp, stuck a hatchet in his head, and left 
 him in this forlorn condition. 
 
 3. He was found alive the morning after, by a party of men 
 from Fort Hinsdale ; and, being asked by one of the party 
 whether he knew him, he answered, " Yes, I know you all." 
 These were his last words, though he did not expire until 
 after his friends had arrived with him at Fort Hinsdale. 
 Grout was so fortunate as to escape unhurt. 
 
 4. But Gaffield, in attempting to wade through the river, at a 
 certain place which was indeed fordable at that time, was unfor- 
 tunately drowned. Flushed with the success they had met with 
 here, the savages went directly to Bridgman's Fort. There was 
 no man in it, and only three women and some children, Mrs. 
 Jemima Howe, Mrs. Submit Grout, and Mrs. Eunice Gaffield. 
 
 5. Their husbands I need not mention again, and their 
 feelings at this juncture I will not attempt to describe. 
 They had heard the enemies 7 guns, but knew not what had 
 happened to their friends. 
 
 6. Extremely anxious for their safety, they stood long- 
 ing to embrace them, until, at length, concluding from the 
 noise they heard without, that some of them were come, 
 they unbarred the gate in a hurry to receive them, when, 
 lo ! to their inexpressible disappointment and surprise, in- 
 stead of their husbands, in rushed a number of hideous In- 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 177 
 
 dians, to whom they and their tender offspring became an 
 easy prey ; and from whom they had nothing to expect, but 
 either an immediate death, or a long and doleful captivity. 
 
 7. The latter of these, by the favour of providence, turned 
 out to be the lot of these unhappy women, and their still more 
 unhappy, because more helpless children. Mrs. Gaffield had 
 but one, Mrs. Grout had three, and Mrs. Howe seven. The 
 eldest of Mrs. Howe's was eleven years old, and the youngest 
 but six months. 
 
 8. The two eldest were daughters, which she had by her 
 first husband, Mr. William Phipps, who was also slain by the 
 Indians, of which I doubt not but you have seen an account 
 in Mr. Doolittle's history. It was from the mouth of this 
 woman that I lately received the foregoing account. She also 
 gave me, I doubt not, a true, though, to be sure, a very brief 
 and imperfect history of her captivity, which I here insert for 
 your perusal. 
 
 9. The Indians, she says, having plundered and put fire 
 to the fort, we marched, as near as I could judge, a mile 
 and a half into the woods, where we encamped that night. 
 
 10. When the morning came, and we had a'dvanced as 
 much farther, six Indians were sent back -to the place of 
 our late abode, who collected a little more plunder, and 
 destroyed some other effects that had been left behind ; but 
 they did not return until the day was so far spent, that it 
 was judged best to continue where we were through the 
 night. > 
 
 11. Early the next morning, we set off for Canada, and 
 continued our march eight days successively, until we had 
 reached the place where the Indians had left their canoes, 
 about fifteen miles from Crown Point, This was a long 
 and tedious march ; but the captives, by divine assistance, 
 were enabled to endure it with less trouble and difficulty than 
 they had reason to expect. 
 
 12. From such savage masters, in such indigent circum- 
 stances, we could not rationally hope for kinder treatment 
 than we received. Some of us, it is true, had a harder lot 
 than others ; and, among the children, I thought my son 
 Squire had the hardest of any. 
 
 13. He was then only four years old, and when we stop- 
 ped to rest our weary limbs, and he sat down on his mas- 
 
178 TH^ AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 ter's pack, the savage monster would often knock him off; 
 and sometimes too with the handle of his hatchet. Several ugly 
 marks, indented in his head by the cruel Indians, at that 
 tender age, are still plainly to be seen. 
 
 14. At length we arrived at Crown Point, and took up our 
 quarters there for the space of near a week. In the mean 
 time, some of the Indians went to Montreal, and took several 
 of the weary captives along with them, with a view of selling 
 them to the French. They did not succeed, however, in find- 
 ing a market for any of them. 
 
 15. They gave my youngest daughter to the governour, 
 de Vaudreuil ; had a drunken frolick, and returned again 
 to Crown Point, with the rest of their prisoners. From 
 hence we set off for St. John's in four or five canoes, just 
 as night was coming on, and were soon surrounded with 
 darkness. 
 
 16. A heavy storm hung over us. The sound of the 
 rolling thunder was very terrible upon the waters, which, at 
 every flash of expansive lightning, seemed to be all in a 
 blaze. Yet to this we were indebted for all the light we 
 enjoyed. No object could we discern any longer than the 
 flashes lasted. 
 
 17. In this posture we sailed in our open, tottering canoes, 
 almost the whole of that dreary night. The morning indeed 
 had not yet begun to dawn, when we all went ashore ; and, 
 having collected a heap of sand and gravel for a pillow, I laid 
 myself down, with my tender infant by my side, not knowing 
 where any of my other children were, or what a miserable 
 condition they might be in. 
 
 18. The next day, however, under the wing of that 
 ever-present and all-powerful Providence, which had 
 preserved us through the darkness and imminent dan- 
 gers of the preceding night, we all arrived in safety at 
 St. John's. 
 
 19. Our next movement was to St. Francois,* the me- 
 tropolis, if I may so call it, to which the Indians, who led 
 us captive, belonged. Soon after our arrival at that 
 wretched capital, a council, consisting of the chief sachem, 
 and some principal warriours of the St. Francois tribe, was 
 convened ; and, after the ceremonies usual on such occa- 
 
 * Pronounced Fron'say. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 179 
 
 sions were over, I was conducted and delivered to an old 
 squaw, whom the Indians told me I must call my mother. 
 
 20. My infant still continued to be the property of its 
 original Indian owners. I was nevertheless permitted to 
 keep it with me a while longer, for the sake of saving them 
 the trouble of looking after it. When the weather began to 
 grow cold, shuddering at the prospect of approaching winter, 
 I acquainted my new mother, that I did not think it would be 
 possible for me to endure it, if I must spend it with her, and 
 fare as the Indians did. 
 
 21. Listening to my repeated and earnest solicitations, 
 that I might be disposed of among some of the French in- 
 habitants of Canada, she at length set off with me and my 
 infant, attended by some male Indians, upon a journey to 
 Montreal, in hopes of finding a market for me there. But 
 the attempt proved unsuccessful, and the journey tedious 
 indeed. 
 
 22. Our provision was so scanty as well as insipid and un- 
 savoury ; the weather was so cold, and the travelling so 
 very bad, that it often seemed as if I must have perished on 
 the way. 
 
 23. While we wete at Montreal, we went into the house 
 of a certain French gentleman, whose lady being sent for, 
 and coming into the room where I was, to examine me, see- 
 ing I had an infant, exclaimed w T ith an oath, " I will not buy 
 a woman who has a child to look after." 
 
 24. There was a swill-pail standing near me, in which 
 I observed some crusts and crumbs of bread swimming on 
 the surface of the greasy liquor it contained. Sorely pinch- 
 ed with hunger, I skimmed them off with my hands, and 
 ate* them ; and this was all the refreshment which the house 
 afforded me. 
 
 25. Somewhere in the course of this visit to Montreal, my 
 Indian mother was so unfortunate as to catch the small pox, 
 of which distemper she died soon after our return, which was 
 by w r ater, to St. Francois. And now came on the season when 
 the Indians began to prepare for a winter's hunt. 
 
 26. I was ordered to return my poor child to those of 
 them who still claimed it as their property. This was a 
 severe trial. The babe clung to my bosom with all its might ; 
 
 # Pronounced et. 
 
ISO THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 but. I was obliged to pluck it thence, and deliver it, shriek- 
 ing and screaming, enough to penetrate a heart of stone, 
 into the hands of those unfeeling wretches, whose tender 
 mercies may be termed cruel. 
 
 27. It was soon carried off by a hunting party of those 
 Indians to a place called Messiskow, at the lower end of Lake 
 Champlain, whither, in about a month after, it was my fortune 
 to follow them. And here I found it, it is true, but in a con- 
 dition that afforded me no great satisfaction ; it being greatly 
 emaciated, and almost starved. 
 
 28. I took it in my arms, put its face to mine, and it in- 
 stantly bit me with such violence, that it seemed as if I 
 must have parted with a piece of my cheek. I was per- 
 mitted to lodge with it that and the two following nights ; 
 but, every morning that intervened, the Indians, I suppose 
 on purpose to torment me, sent me away to another wig- 
 wam, which stood at a little distance, though not so far 
 from the one in which my distressed infant was confined, 
 but that I could plainly hear its incessant cries, and heart- 
 rending lamentations. 
 
 29. In this deplorable condition, I was obliged to take my 
 leave of it, on the morning of the third day after my arrival 
 at the place. We moved down the lake several miles the 
 same day ; and the night following was remarkable on account 
 of the great earthquake which terribly shook that howling wil- 
 derness. 
 
 Narrative of Mrs. Howe, concluded. 
 
 AMONG the islands hereabouts, we spent the winter sea- 
 son, often shifting our quarters, and roving about from one 
 place to another ; our family consisting of three persons only, 
 beside myself, viz. my late mother's daughter, whom therefore 
 I called my sister, her sanhop,* and apappoose.f 
 
 2. They once left me alone two dismal nights ; and when 
 they returned to me again, perceiving them smile at each 
 other, I asked what is the matter ? They replied, that two of 
 my children were no more. One of which, they said, died 
 a natural death, and the other was knocked on the head 
 * husband. t child. 
 
% 
 THE AMERICAxN PRECEPTOR. lSl 
 
 3. I did not utter many words, but my heart was sorely 
 pained within me, and my mind exceedingly troubled with 
 strange and awful ideas. I often imagined, for instance, that 
 I plainly saw the naked carcasses of my deceased children 
 hanging upon the limbs of the trees, as the Indians are 
 wont to hang the raw hides of those beasts which they take in 
 hunting. 
 
 4. It was not long, however, before it was so ordered by 
 kind Providence, that I should be relieved in a good meas- 
 ure from those horrid imaginations ; for, as I was walking one 
 day upon the ice, observing a smoke at some, distance upon 
 the land, it must proceed, thought I, from the fire of some In- 
 dian hut ; and who knows but some one of my poor children 
 may be there. 
 
 5. My curiosity, thus excited, led me to the place, and 
 there I found my son Caleb, a little boy between two and 
 three years old, whom I had lately buried, in sentiment at 
 least, or, rather, imagined to have been deprived of life, and 
 perhaps also denied a decent grave. 
 
 6. I found him likewise in tolerable health and circumstan- 
 ces, under the protection of a fond Indian mother : and, more- 
 over, had the happiness of lodging with him in my arms one 
 joyful night. Again we shifted our quarters, and, when we 
 had travelled eight or ten miles upon the snow and ice, came 
 to a place where the Indians manufactured sugar, which they 
 extracted from the maple trees. 
 
 7. Here an Indian came to visit us, whom I knew, and 
 who could speak English. He asked me why I did not go 
 to see my son Squire. I replied that I had lately been in- 
 formed that he was dead. He assured me that he was yet 
 alive, and but two or three miles off/ on the opposite side of 
 the lake. 
 
 8. At my request, he gave me the best directions he 
 could to the place of his abode. I resolved to embrace 
 the first opportunity that offered of endeavouring to search 
 it out. While I was busy in contemplating this affair, the In- 
 dians obtained a little bread, of which they gave me a small 
 share. 
 
 9. I did not taste a morsel of it myself, but saved it all 
 for my poor child, if I should be so lucky as to find him. 
 At length, having obtained of my keepers leave to be absent 
 
 16 
 
182 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 for one day, I set off early in the morning, and, steering as 
 well as I could, according to the directions which the friendly 
 Indian had given me, I quickly founcl the place, which he 
 had so accurately marked out. 
 
 10. I beheld, as I drew nigh, my little son without the 
 camp ; but he looked, thought I, like a starved and mangy 
 puppy, that had been wallowing in the ashes. I took him in 
 my arms, and he spoke to me these words, in the Indian tongue ; 
 " Mother, are you come?" 
 
 11. I took him into the wigwam with me, and, observing 
 a number of Indian children in it, I distributed all the bread 
 which I had reserved for my own child among them all ; oth- 
 erwise I should have given great offence. 
 
 12. My little boy appeared to be very fond of his new moth- 
 er; kept as near me as possible while I staid; and, when I 
 told him I must go, fie fell as though he had been knocked 
 down with a club. 
 
 13. But, having recommended him to the care of him 
 who made him, when the day was far spent, and the time 
 would permit me to stay no longer, I departed, you may 
 well suppose, with a heavy load at my heart. The tidings 
 I had received of the death of my youngest child had, a 
 little before, been confirmed to me beyond a doubt ; but I 
 could not mourn so heartily for the deceased as for the living 
 child. 
 
 14. When the winter broke up, we removed to St. 
 John's ; and, through the ensuing summer, our principal 
 residence was at no great distance from the fort at that 
 place. f In the mean time, however, my sister's husband, 
 having been out with a scouting party to some of the Eng- 
 lish settlements, had a drunken frolick at the fort, when he 
 returned. 
 
 15. His wife, who never got drunk, but had often experi- 
 enced the ill effects of her husband's intemperance, fearing 
 what the consequence might prove, if he should come home 
 in a morose and turbulent humour, to avoid his insolence, pro- 
 posed that we should both retire, and keep out of the reach 
 of it, until the storm abated. 
 
 . 16. We absconded accordingly ; but so it happened, that 
 I returned^ and ventured into his presence, before his wife 
 had presumed to come nigh him. I found him in his v/ig- 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 183 
 
 warn, and in a surly mood ; and, not being able to revenge 
 himself upon his wife, because she was not at home, he laid 
 hold of me, and hurried me to the fort ; and, for a trifling 
 consideration, sold me to a French gentleman, whose name 
 was Saccapee. 
 
 17. It is an ill wind certainly that blows nobody any good. 
 I had been with the Indians a year lacking fourteen days ; and, 
 if not for my sister, yet for me, it was a lucky circumstance 
 indeed, which thus, at last, in an unexpected moment, snatch- 
 ed me out of their cruel hands, and placed me beyond the 
 reach of their insolent power. 
 
 18. After my. Indian master had disposed of me in the 
 manner related above, and the moment of sober reflection 
 had arrived, perceiving that the man who bought me had 
 taken the advantage of him in an unguarded hour, his re- 
 sentment began to kindle, and his indignation rose so high, 
 that he threatened to kill me if he should meet me alone ; or, 
 if he could not revenge himself thus, that he would set fire to 
 the fort. 
 
 19. I was, therefore, secreted in an upper chamber, and 
 the fort carefully guarded, until his wrath had time to cool. 
 My service in the family, to which I was advanced, was per- 
 fect freedom, in comparison with what it had been among the 
 barbarous Indians. 
 
 20. My new master and mistress were both as kind and 
 generous towards me as I could reasonably expect. I seldom 
 asked a favour of either of them, but it was readily granted. 
 In consequence of which, I had it in my power, in many in- 
 stances, to administer aid and refreshment to the poor pris- 
 oners of my own nation, who were brought into St. John's 
 during my abode in the family of the above-mentioned benev- 
 olent and hospitable Saccapee. 
 
 21. Yet even in this family such trials awaited me as I had 
 little reason to expect ; but stood in need of a large stock of 
 prudence, to enable me to encounter them. In this I was 
 greatly assisted by the governour and Col. Schuyler, who was 
 then a prisoner. $ 
 
 22. I was, moreover, under unspeakable obligations to the 
 governour on another account. I had received intelligence 
 from my daughter Mary, the purport of which was, that 
 there was a prospect of her being shortly married to a 
 
184 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 young Indian of the tribe of St. Francois, with which tribe 
 she had continued from the beginning of her captivity. These 
 were heavy tidings, and added greatly to the poignancy of my 
 other afflictions. 
 
 23. However, not long after I had heard this melancholy 
 news, an opportunity presented of acquainting that humane 
 and generous gentleman, the commander in chief, and my il- 
 lustrious benefactor, with this affair also, who, in compassion 
 for my sufferings, and to mitigate my sorrows, issued his or- 
 ders in good time, and had my daughter taken away from the 
 Indians, and conveyed to the same nunnery where her sister 
 was then lodged, with his express injunction, that they should 
 both of them together be well looked after, and carefully edu- 
 cated, as his adopted children. 
 
 24. In this school of superstition and bigotry they contin- 
 ued while the war in those days between France and Great 
 Britain lasted. At the conclusion of which war, the gover- 
 nour went home to France, took my oldest daughter along 
 with him, and married her there to a French gentleman, whose 
 name is Cron Lewis. 
 
 25. He was at Boston with the fleet under Count de 
 Estaing, (1778,) and one of his clerks. My other daughter 
 still continuing in the nunnery, a considerable time had elaps- 
 ed after my return from captivity, when I made a journey to 
 Canada, resolving to use my best endeavours not to return 
 without her. 
 
 26. I arrived just in time to prevent her being sent to 
 France. She was to have gone in the next vessel that sailed 
 for that place. And I found it extremely difficult to prevail 
 with her to quit the nunnery and go home with me. 
 
 27. Yea, she absolutely refused; and all the persuasions 
 and arguments I could use with her were to no effect, until 
 after I had been to the governour, and ofetained a letter from 
 him to the superintendent of the nuns, in which he threaten- 
 ed, if my daughter should not be delivered immediately into 
 my hands, or could not be prevailed with to submit to my pa- 
 rental authority, that he would send Pband of soldiers to as- 
 sist me in bringing her away. 
 
 28. But so extremely bigoted was she to the customs 
 and religion of the place, that, after all, she left it with 
 the greatest reluctance, and the most bitter lamentations, 
 
THE AMERICAN PPvECEPTOR. 185 
 
 which she continued as we passed the streets, and wholly 
 refused to be comforted. My good friend, Major Small, 
 whom we met with on the way, tried all he could to console 
 her ; and was so very kind and obliging as to bear us com- 
 pany, and carry my daughter behind him on horseback. 
 
 29. But I have run on a little before my story ; for 1 
 have not yet informed you of the means and manner of my 
 own redemption ; to the accomplishing of which, the re- 
 covery of my daughter just mentioned, and the ransoming 
 of some of my other children, several gentlemen of note 
 contributed not a little ; to whose goodness, therefore, I am 
 greatly indebted, and sincerely hope I shall never be so 
 ungrateful as to forget it. 
 
 30. Col. Schuyler, in particular, was so very kind and 
 generous as to advance 2700 livres to procure a ransom 
 for myself and three of my children. He accompanied and 
 conducted us from Montreal to Albany, and entertained us in 
 the most friendly and hospitable manner, a considerable time, 
 at his own house, and I believe entirely at his own expense. 
 
 Extract from the Speech of Mr. Pitt in the Brit- 
 ish Parliament, January 20, 1775. 
 
 My Lords, 
 
 JL RISE with astonishment to see these papers brought 
 to your table at so late a period of this business ; papers, 
 to tell us what ? Why, what all the world knew before ; 
 that the Americans, irritated by repeated injuries, and strip- 
 ped of their inborn rights and dearest privileges, have re- 
 sisted, and entered into associations for the preservation of 
 their common liberties. 
 
 2. Had the early situation of the people of Boston been 
 attended to, things would not have come to this. But the 
 infant complaints of Boston were literally treated like the 
 capricious squalls of a child, who, it was said^, did not know 
 whether it was aggrieved or not. 
 
 3. But full well I knew, at that time, that this child, if 
 not redressed, would soon assume the courage and voice of 
 ; man. Full well I knew, that the sons of ancestors born 
 
 16* 
 
186 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 under the same free constitution, and once breathing, the 
 same liberal air as Englishmen, would resist upon the same 
 principles, and on the same occasions. 
 
 4. What has government done 1 They have sent an arm- 
 ed force, consisting of seventeen thousand men, to dragoon 
 the Bostonians into what is called their duty ; and, so far 
 from once turning their eyes to the policy and destructive 
 consequence of this scheme, are constantly sending out 
 more troops. And we are told, in the language of menace, 
 that if seventeen thousand men won't do, fifty thousand 
 shall. 
 
 5. It is true, my lords, with this force they may ravage 
 the country ; waste and destroy as they march ; but, in the 
 progress of fifteen hundred miles, can they occupy the pla- 
 ces they have passed ? Will not a country which can pro- 
 duce three millions of people, wronged and insulted as 
 they are, start up like hydras in every corner, and gather 
 fresh strength from fresh opposition % 
 
 6. Nay, what dependence can you have upon the sol- 
 diery, the unhappy engines* of your wrath 1 They are Eng- 
 lishmen, who must feel for the privileges of Englishmen. 
 Do you think that these men can turn their arms against 
 their brethren ? Surely no. A victory must be to them a 
 defeat ; and carnage, a sacrifice. 
 
 7. But it is not merely three millions of people, the prod- 
 uce of America, we have to contend with in this unnatural 
 struggle ; many more are on their side, dispersed over the 
 face of this wide empire. Every whig in this country and in 
 Ireland is with them. 
 
 8. Who, then, let me demand, has given, and continues 
 to give, this strange and unconstituti6nal advice ? I do* not 
 mean to level at one man, or any particular set of men ; but 
 thus much I will venture to declare, that, if his majesty con- 
 tinues to hear such counsellors, he will not only be badly ad- 
 vised, but undone. 
 
 9. He may continue indeed to wear his crown ; but it will 
 not be worthf his wearing. Robbed of so principal a jewel 
 as America, it will lose its lustre, and no longer beam that ef- 
 fulgence wjiich should irra'diate the brow of majesty. 
 
 10. In this alarming crisis, I come with this paper in my 
 
 * Pronounced hi'jinz. \ wurlh. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 187 
 
 hand, to offer you the best of my experience and advice ; 
 which is, that an humble petition be presented to his majesty, 
 beseeching him, that, in order to open the way towards a 
 happy settlement of the dangerous troubles in America, it may 
 graciously please him, that immediate orders be given to gen- 
 eral Gage for removing his majesty's forces from the town of 
 B6ston. 
 
 11. And this, my lords, upon the most mature and de- 
 liberate grounds, is the best advice I can give you, at this 
 juncture. Such conduct will convince America that you 
 mean to try her cause in the spirit of freedom and inquiry, 
 and not in letters of blood. 
 
 12. There is no time to be lost. Every hour is big with 
 danger. Perhaps, while I am now speaking, the decisive 
 blow is struck, which may involve millions in the conse- 
 quence. And believe me, the very first drop of blood which 
 is shed will cause a wound which may never be healed. 
 
 The Lion. 
 
 a HIS animal is produced in Africa, and the hottest parts 
 of Asia. It is found in the greatest numbers in the scorch- 
 ed and desolate regions of the torrid zone, and in all the in- 
 teriour parts of the vast continent of Africa. 
 
 2. In these desert regions, from whence mankind are driven 
 by the rigorous heat of the climate, this animal reigns sole 
 master. Its disposition seems to partake of the ardour of its 
 native soil. Inflamed by the influence of a burning sun, its 
 rage is most tremendous, and its courage undaunted. 
 
 3. Happily, indeed, the species is not numerous, and is 
 said to be greatly diminished ; for, if we may credit the 
 testimony of those whe have traversed those vast deserts, the 
 number of lions is not nearly so great as formerly. 
 
 4. From numberless accounts, we are assured, that, pow- 
 erful "and terrible as this animal is, its anger is noble, its 
 courage magnanimous, and its temper susceptible of grateful 
 impressions. It has often been seen to despise weak and 
 contemptible enemies, and even to pardon their insults, when 
 it has been in its power to punish them. 
 
 5. It has been known to spare the life of an animal that 
 
188 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 was thrown to be devoured by it ; to live in habits of perfect 
 cordiality with it ; to share its subsistence, and even to give 
 it a preference where its portion of food was scanty. 
 
 6. The form of the lion is strikingly bold and majestick 
 His large and shaggy mane, which he can erect at pleasure, 
 surrounding his awful front ; his huge eyebrows ; his round 
 and fiery eyeballs, which, upon the least irritation, seem *to 
 glow with peculiar lustre ; together with the formidable ap- 
 pearance of his teeth, exhibit a picture of terrinck grandeur, 
 which do words can describe. 
 
 7. The length of the largest lion is between eight and nine 
 feet ; the tail about four ; and its height about four feet and 
 a half. The female is about one fourth part less, and without 
 a mane. 
 
 8. As the lion advances in years, its mane grows longer 
 and thicker. The hair on the rest of the body is short 
 and smooth, of a tawny colour, but whitish on the belly. 
 Its roaring is loud and dreadful. When heard in the night, 
 it resembles distant thunder. Its cry of anger is much 
 louder and shorter. 
 
 9. The Hon seldom attacks any animal openly, except 
 when impelled by extreme hunger ; in that case no danger* 
 deters him. But, as most animals endeavour to avoid him, 
 he is obliged to have recourse to artifice, and take his prey 
 by surprise. 
 
 10. For this purpose, he crouches on his belly in some 
 thicket, where he waits till his prey approaches ; and then, 
 with one prodigious spring, he leaps upon it at the distance 
 of fifteen or twenty feet, and generally seizes it at the first 
 bound. 
 
 11. If he miss his object, he gives up the pursuit; and, 
 turning back towards the place of his ambush, he measures 
 the ground step by step, and again lies in wait for another 
 opportunity. The lurking places are generally chosen by 
 him near a spring, or by the side of a river, where he has 
 frequently an opportunity of catching such animals as come 
 to quench their thirst. 
 
 12. The lion is a long-lived animal, although naturalists 
 differ greatly as to the precise period of its existence. Of 
 some that have been trained in the tower of London, one 
 
 * Praaiounced dane'jur. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 189 
 
 lived to the age of sixty-three years, and another exceeded 
 seventy. 
 
 13. The aspect of the lion corresponds with the noble and 
 generous qualities of his mind ; his figure is respectable, his 
 looks are determined, his gait is stately, and his voice tre- 
 mendous. In a word, the body of the lion appears to be the 
 best model of strength joined to agility. 
 
 14. As a proof that he is capable of exercising a generous 
 and friendly disposition towards mankind, we have the 
 following anecdote of one which was kept in the tower of 
 London. 
 
 15. When this lion was confined in the den alone, an ac- 
 cident happened to the lower part of it, which so impaired 
 the wood work, that he could not be kept with safety ; 
 the carpenter was, therefore, called to repair it, who wisely 
 stood at a distance, and would not approach the den for fear 
 of the lion. 
 
 16. Upon this, one of the keepers stepped into the den, 
 and engaged to keep the lion at the upper part of his house, 
 while the carpenter was at work beneath. It happened, 
 however, that the keeper, after playing some time with the 
 lion, fell fast asleep. 
 
 17. The carpenter continued his work, without knowing 
 the danger to which he was exposed ; and, when he had fin- 
 ished his work, called to the keeper to come down and fasten 
 the door ; but received no answer. 
 
 18. He then ran out of the den, and was greatly surprised 
 to see, through the grate, both the keeper and the lion 
 stretched upon the floor, and sleeping together. He called 
 to him again, but the keeper was too sound asleep to return 
 any answer. 
 
 19. The lion, however, reared up his frightful head, and, 
 after looking some time at the carpenter, threw his huge paw 
 over the keeper's breast, and, laying his nose upon his head, 
 again composed himself to rest. 
 
 20. The carpenter, already terrified with his own situa- 
 tion, was still more alarmed when he saw the keeper thus 
 encircled with the paws of the lion, and ran into the house 
 for aid. 
 
 21. Some of the people came out, and, having bolted 
 the den door, which the carpenter had neglected in his 
 
190 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 precipitate retreat, they roused the keeper from his sleep, 
 who, shaking the lion by the paw, took his leave ; but the lion 
 was too well bred to suffer his friend to go without some little 
 ceremony or marks of esteem. 
 
 22. He first rubbed his great nose against the keeper's 
 knees, then held him by the coat, as if he would have 
 said, " Do stay a little longer ;" and, when he found that 
 no entreaties could prevail, he courteously* waited on him 
 to the door. 
 
 Story of the grateful Turk. 
 
 J.T is too much to be lamented, that different nations fre- 
 quently make bloody wars with each other ; and, when they 
 take any of their enemies prisoners, instead of using them 
 well, and restoring them to liberty, they confine them in 
 prisons, or sell them as slaves. The enmity that there has 
 often been between many of the Italian states, particularly 
 the Venetians, and the Turks, is sufficiently known. 
 
 2. It once happened that a Venetian ship had taken 
 many of the Turks prisoners, and, according to the barba- 
 rous custom I have mentioned, these unhappy men had 
 been sold to different persons in the city. By accident, 
 one of the slaves lived opposite to the house of a rich Ve- 
 netian, who had an only son, of about the age of twelve 
 years. 
 
 3. It happened that this little boy used frequently to stop 
 as he passed near Hamet, for that was the name of the 
 slave, and gaze at him very attentively. Hamet, who re- 
 marked in the face of the child the appearance of good 
 nature and compassion, used always to salute him with the 
 greatest courtesy ,f and testified the greatest pleasure in his 
 company. 
 
 4. At length the little boy took such a fancy to the slave, 
 that he used to visit him several times in the day, and 
 brought him such little presents as he had it in his power 
 to make, and which he thought would be of use to his 
 friend. 
 
 * Pronounced kur'che-us-k. f kur'te-se. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 191 
 
 5. But though Hamet seemed always to take the greatest 
 delight in the innocent caresses of his little friend, yet the 
 child could not help remarking that Hamet was frequently 
 extremely sorrowful ; and he often surprised him on a sudden, 
 when tears were trickling down his face, although he did his 
 utmost to conceal them. 
 
 6. The little boy was at length so much affected with the 
 repetition of this sight, that he spoke of it to his father, and 
 begged him, if he had it in his power, to make poor Hamet 
 happy. The father, who was extremely fond of his son, and, 
 besides, had observed that he seldom requested any thing which 
 was not generous and humane, determined to see the Turk 
 himself, and talk to him. 
 
 7. Accordingly he went to him the next day, and, observing 
 him for some time in silence, was struck with the extraordinary 
 appearance of mildness and honesty which his countenance 
 discovered. At length he said to him, " Are you that Hamet of 
 whom my son is so fond, and of whose gentleness and courtesy 
 I have so often heard him talk?" 
 
 8. " Yes,' 5 said the Turk, " I am that unfortunate Hamet, who 
 have now been for three years a captive : during that space 
 of time, your son, if you are his father, is the only human 
 being that seems to have felt any compassion for my sufferings ; 
 therefore, I must confess, he is the only object to which I am 
 attached in -this barbarous country ; and night and morning I 
 pray that Power, who is equally the God of Turks and Chris- 
 tians, to grant him every blessing he deserves,, and to preserve 
 him from all the miseries I suffer." 
 
 9. " Indeed, Hamet," said the merchant, " he is much 
 obliged to you, although, from his present circumstances, 
 he does not appear much exposed to danger. But tell me, 
 for I wish to do you good, in what can I assist you 1 for my 
 son informs me that you are the prey of continual regiet 
 and sorrow." 
 
 10. "Is it wonderful," answered the Turk, with a glow of 
 generous indignation that suddenly animated his counte- 
 nance, " is it wonderful that I should pine in silence, and 
 mourn my fate, who am bereft of the first and noblest 
 present of nature, my liberty V T "And yet," answered the Ve- 
 netian, " how many thousands of our nation do you retain in 
 fetters ?" 
 
192 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 11. "lam not answerable/' said the Turk, " for the cruelty 
 of my countrymen, more than you are for the barbarity of 
 yours. But, as to myself, I have never practised the inhuman, 
 custom of enslaving my fellow-creatures ; I have never spoiled 
 Venetian merchants of their property to increase my riches ; 
 I have always respected the rights of nature, and therefore it 
 is the more severe " 
 
 12. Here a tear started from his eye, and "wetted his man- 
 ly cheek ; instantly, however, he recollected himself, and, fold- 
 ing his arms upon his bosom, and gently bowing his head, 
 he added, " God is good, and man must submit to his decrees." 
 The Venetian was affected with this appearance of manly 
 fortitude, and said, " Hamet, I pity your sufferings, and may 
 perhaps be able to relieve them. What would you do to regain 
 your liberty ?" 
 
 13. "What would I do?" answered Hamet; "I would con- 
 front every pain and danger that can appal* the heart of 
 man." "Nay," answered the merchant, " you will not be ex- 
 posed to such a trial. The means of your deliverance are 
 certain, provided your courage does not belie your ap- 
 pearance." 
 
 14. " Name them ! name them !" cried the impatient Hamet ; 
 "place death before me in every horrid shape, and if I shrink 
 
 " "Patience!" answered the merchant, "we shall be 
 
 observed. But hear me attentively. I have in this city an 
 inveterate foe, who has heaped upon me every injury which 
 can most bitterly sting the heart of man. 
 
 15. " This foe is brave as he is haughty ; and I must confess 
 that the dread of his strength and valour has hitherto deterred 
 me from resenting his insults as they deserve. Now, Hamet, 
 your look, your form', your words, convince me that you are born 
 for manly daring. 
 
 16. " Take this dagger ; and, as soon as the shades of night 
 involve the city, I will myself conduct you to the place, 
 where you may at once revenge your friend, and regain your 
 freedom." 
 
 17. At this proposal, scorn and shame flashed from the 
 kindling eye of Hamet, and passion for a considerable time 
 deprived him of the power of utterance : at length he lift- 
 ed his arms as high as his chains would permit, and cried 
 
 * Pronounced ap-pall'. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 193 
 
 with an indignant tone, " Mighty Prophet ! and are these the 
 wretches to which you permit your faithful votaries to be 
 enslaved 1 < 
 
 18. " Go, base Christian, and know that Hamet would not 
 stoop to the vile trade of an assassin, for all the wealth of 
 Venice ! no, not to purchase the freedom of all his race !" 
 At these words, the merchant, without seeming much 
 abashed, told him he was sorry he had offended him ; but 
 that he thought freedom had been dearer to him than he 
 found it was. 
 
 19. " However," added he, as he turned his back, " you will 
 reflect upon my proposal, and perhaps by to-morrow you may 
 change your mind." Hamet disdained to answer, and the 
 merchant went his way. 
 
 20. The next day, however, he returned in company 
 with his son, and mildly accosted Hamet thus ; " The abrupt- 
 ness of the proposal I yesterday made you, might, perhaps, 
 astonish you; but I am now come to discourse the matter 
 more calmly with you, and, I doubt not, when you have heard 
 my reasons " 
 
 21. " Christian," interrupted Hamet, with a severe, but com- 
 posed countenance, "cease at length to insult the miserable 
 with proposals more shocking than even these chains. If thy 
 religion permit such acts as those, know that they are execra- 
 ble and abominable to the soul of a Mahometan ; therefore, from 
 this moment, let us break off all further intercourse, and be 
 strangers to each other.' ' 
 
 22. " No," answered the merchant, flinging himself into the 
 arms of Hamet, " let us from this moment be more closely link- 
 ed than ever ! Generous man, whose virtues may at once dis- 
 arm and enlighten thy enemies ! Fondness for my son first made 
 me interested in thy fate ; but from the moment that I saw 
 thee yesterday, I determined to set thee free. Therefore par- 
 don m£ this unnecessary trial of thy virtue, which has only 
 raised thee higher in my esteem. 
 
 23. " Francisco has a soul which is as averse to deeds of 
 treachery and blood as even Hamet himself. From this 
 moment, generous man, thou art free ; thy ransom is already 
 paid, with no other obligation than that of remembering 
 the affection of this thy young and faithful friend ; and per- 
 haps, hereafter, when thou seest an unhappy Christian 
 
 17 
 
194 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 groaning in Turkish fetters, thy generosity may make thee 
 think of Venice." 
 
 24. The feelings of Hamet at this unexpected deliverance 
 are not to be described. Francisco put him on board a ship, 
 which was bound to one of the Grecian islands, and, after 
 taking leave of him in the tenderest manner, forced him to 
 accept of a purse of gold to pay his expenses. 
 
 25. Affectionate was the parting of Hamet with his little 
 friend, whom he embraced in an agony of tenderness, wept 
 over him, and implored Heaven to grant him all the blessings 
 of this life. 
 
 26. About six months afterwards, one morning, while 
 the family were all in bed, Francisco's house was discover- 
 ed to be on fire, and great part of the house was in flames 
 before the family were alarmed. The terrified servant 
 had but just time to awaken Francisco, who had no sooner 
 got into the street, than the whole staircase gave way, and 
 fell into the flames. 
 
 27. If the merchant thought >, himself happy on having 
 saved himself, it was only for a moment, as he soon recol- 
 lected that his beloved son was left behind to the mercy of 
 the flames. He cunk into the deepest despair, when, upon 
 inquiry, he found that his son, who slept in an upper apart- 
 ment, had been forgotten in the general confusion. 
 
 28. He raved in agonies of grief, and offered half his 
 fortune to any one who would risk his life to save his child. 
 As he was known to be very rich, several ladders were in- 
 stantly raised by those who wished to obtain the reward ; 
 but the violence of the flames drove every one down who 
 attempted it. 
 
 29. The unfortunate youth then appeared on the top of 
 the house, extending his arms, and calling out for aid. The 
 unhappy father became motionless, and remained in a state 
 of insensibility. At this critical moment, a man rushed 
 through the crowd, and ascended the tallest ladder, seem- 
 ingly determined to rescue the youth, or perish in the at- 
 tempt. 
 
 30. A sudden gust of flame, bursting forth, led the people 
 to suppose he was lost ; but he presently appeared descend- 
 ing the ladder with the child in his arms, without receiv- 
 ing any material injury. A universal shout attended this 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. J 95 
 
 noble action, and the father, to his inexpressible surprise, 
 on recovering from his swoon, found his child in his arms. 
 81. After giving vent to the first emotions of tenderness, 
 he inquired after his generous deliverer, whose features 
 were so changed by the smoke, that they could not be dis- 
 tinguished. Francisco immediately presented him with a 
 purse of gold, promising the next day to give him the reward 
 he had offered. 
 
 32. The stranger replied, that he should accept of no 
 reward. Francisco started, and thought he knew the voice, 
 when his son flew to the arms of his deliverer, and cried 
 out, "It is my dear Hamet! it is my dear Hamet!" 
 
 33. The astonishment and gratitude of the merchant 
 were equally excited; and, retiring from the crowd, he took 
 Hamet with him to a friend's house. As soon as they were 
 alone, Francisco inquired by what means he had been a 
 second time enslaved. 
 
 34. " I will tell you in a few words," said the generous 
 Turk. "When I was taken by the Venetian galleys, my fa- 
 ther shared in my captivity. It was his fate and not my 
 own, which so often made me shed those tears, which first at- 
 tracted the notice of your amiable son. 
 
 35. " As soon as your bounty had set me free, I flew to the 
 Christian who had purchased my father. I told him that, as 
 I was young and vigorous, and he aged and infirm, / would 
 be his slave instead of my father. 
 
 36. "I added, too, the gold, which your bounty had be- 
 stowed on me ; and, by these means, I prevailed on the 
 Christian to send back my father in that ship you had pro- 
 vided for me, without his knowing the cause of his freedom. 
 Since that time, I have staid here a willing "slave, and 
 Heaven has been so gracious as to put it into my power to 
 save the life of that youth, which I value a thousand times 
 more than my own." 
 
 37. The merchant was astonished at such an instance of 
 gratitude and affection, and pressed Hamet to accept of the 
 half of his fortune, and to settle in Venice for the remainder 
 of his days. Hamet, however, with a noble magnanimity, re- 
 fused the offer, saying, he had done no more than what every 
 one ought to do in a similar situation. 
 
 38. Though Hamet seemed to underrate his past services 
 
196 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 to the merchant, yet the latter could not suffer things to pass 
 in this manner. He again purchased his freedom, and fitted 
 a ship out on purpose to take him back to his own country. 
 At parting, they mutually embraced each other, and, as they 
 thought, took an eternal farewell. ^ 
 
 39. After many years had elapsed, and young Francisco 
 was grown up to manhood, beloved and respected by every 
 one, it so happened that some business make it necessary 
 for him and his father to visit a neighbouring city on the 
 coast; and, as they supposed a passage by sea would be 
 more expeditious than by land, they embarked in a Venetian 
 vessel, which was bound to that port, and ready to sail. 
 
 40. A favourable gale soon wafted them out of sight, 
 and promised them a speedy passage ; but, unfortunately for 
 them, before they had proceeded half their voyage, they 
 were met by some Turkish vessels, who, after an obstinate 
 resistance from the Venetians, boarded them, loaded them 
 with irons, and carried them prisoners to Tunis. There 
 they were exposed in the market-place in their chains, in 
 order to be sold as slaves. 
 
 41. At last, a Turk came to the market, who seemed to 
 be a man of superiour rank, and, after looking over the 
 prisoners, with an expression of compassion, he fixed his eyes 
 upon young Francisco, and asked the captain what was the 
 price of that young captive. 
 
 42. The captain replied, that he would not part with him 
 for less than five hundred pieces of gold. The Turk con- 
 sidered that as a very extraordinary price, since he had seen 
 him sell others, that exceeded him in strength and vigour, for 
 less than a fifth part of that money. 
 
 43. " That is true," replied the captain ; " but he shall either 
 fetch me a price that will repay me the damage he has oc- 
 casioned me, or he shall labour all the rest of his life at the 
 oar." The Turk asked him, what damage he could have done 
 him more than the rest of the crew. 
 
 44. "It was he," replied the captain, "who animated the 
 Christians to make a desperate resistance, and thereby prov- 
 ed the destruction of many of my bravest seamen. We 
 three times boarded them with a fury that seemed invin- 
 cible, and each time did that youth attack us with a cool 
 and determined opposition; so that we were obliged to 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 197 
 
 give up the contest, till other ships came to our assistance. I 
 will, therefore, have that price for him, or I will punish him 
 for life. 
 
 45. The Turk now surveyed young Francisco more at- 
 tentively than before ; and the young man, who had hither- 
 to fixed his eyes in sullen silence on the ground, at length 
 raised them up ; but he had no sooner beheld the person who 
 was talking to the captain, than, in a loud voice, he utter- 
 ed the name of Hame-t. The Turk, struck with astonish- 
 ment, surveyed him for a moment, and then caught him in his 
 arm«. 
 
 46. After a moment's pause, the generous Hamet lifted 
 up his hands to heaven, and thanked his God, who had put 
 it fn his power to show his gratitude ; but words cannot 
 express his feelings, when he found that both father and son 
 were slaves. Suffice* it to say, that he instantly bought their 
 freedom, and conducted them to his magnificent house in 
 the city. 
 
 47. They had here full leisure to discourse on the 
 strange vicissitudes of fortune, when Hamet told his Vene- 
 tian friends, that, after their generosity had procured him 
 liberty, he became an officer in the Turkish army, and, hap- 
 pening to be fortunate in all his enterprises, he had been 
 gradually promoted, till he arrived at the dignity of bashaw of 
 Tunis. 
 
 48. That, in this situation, he found the greatest consola- 
 tion in alleviating the misfortunes of .the Christian prisoners, 
 and always attended the sales of those unhappy slaves, to pro- 
 cure liberty to a certain number of them. And gracious -4J- 
 lah, added he, has this day put it in my power, in some meas- 
 ure, to return the duties of gratitude. 
 
 49. They continued some days with Hamet, who did 
 every thing in his power to amuse and divert them ; but, 
 as he found their desire was to return to their own country, he 
 told them that he would not detain them against their wishes ; 
 and that they should embark the next day in a ship bound for 
 Venice, which would be furnished with a passport to carry 
 them safe there. 
 
 50. The next day, he dismissed them with every mark 
 of tenderness and affection, and ordered a party of his own 
 
 * Pronounced suf-Hze'. 
 17* 
 
198 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 guards to attend them to the vessel. They had no sooner 
 got on board, than they found, to their inexpressible surprise 
 and joy, that they were in the very ship in which they had 
 been taken ; and that, by the generosity of Hamet, not only 
 the ship, but even the whole crew, were redeemed and restor- 
 ed to freedom. 
 
 51. Francisco and his son, after a quick passage, arrived 
 in their own country, where they lived beloved and re- 
 spected, and endeavoured to convince every one they knew, 
 how great were the vicissitudes of fortune, and that God never 
 suffers humanity and generosity to go unrewarded, here or 
 hereafter. 
 
 The Quarrel of Brutus and Cassius. 
 
 Cassius. X HAT you have wronged me doth appear in this : 
 You have condemned and noted Lucius Pella, 
 For taking bribes here of the Sardians ; 
 Wherein my letter (praying on his side, 
 Because I knew the man) was slighted off. 
 
 Brutus. You wronged yourself to write in such a case. 
 
 Cas. In such a time as this, it is not meet 
 That every nice offence should bear its comment. 
 
 Bru. Yet let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself 
 Are much condemned to have an itching palm, 
 To sell and mart your omces for gold, 
 To undeservers. 
 
 Cas. I an itching palm ! 
 You know that you are Brutus that speak this, 
 Or, be assured, this speech were else your last. 
 
 Bru. The name of Cassius honours this corruption, 
 And chastisement* doth therefore hide its head. 
 
 Cas. Chastisement! 
 
 Bru. Remember March, the Ides of March remember ; 
 Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake ? 
 What villain touched his body, that did stab, 
 And not for justice ? What ! shall one of us, 
 That struck the foremost man of all this world, 
 * Pronounced chas'tiz-ment, 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 199 
 
 But for supporting robbers ; shall we now 
 Contaminate our ringers with base bribes ? 
 And sell the mighty meed of our large honours 
 For so much trash as may be grasped thus ? 
 I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, 
 Than such a Roman. 
 
 Cas. Brutus, bay not me 
 I'll not endure it ; you forget yourself, 
 To hedge me in ; I am a soldier, I, 
 Older in practice, abler than yourself 
 To make conditions. 
 
 Bru. Go to ! you are not, Cassius. 
 Cas. I am. 
 
 Bru. I say you are not. 
 
 Cas. Urge me no more ; I shall forget myself— 
 Have mind upon your health- — tempt me no further. 
 Bru. Away, slight man ! 
 Cas. Is it possible ? 
 Bru. Hear me, for I will speak. 
 Must I give way and room to your rash choler ? 
 Shall I be frighted when a madman stares 1 
 Cas. Must I endure all this ? 
 
 Bru. All this ! ay, mere. Fret till your proud heart 
 breaks. 
 Go show your slaves how cholerick you are, 
 And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge ? 
 Must I observe you ? Must I stand and crouch 
 Under your testy humour ? Be assured, 
 You shall digest the venom of your spleen, 
 Though it do split you ; for, from this day forth, 
 I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, 
 When you are waspish. 
 Cas. Is it come to this 1 
 Bru. You say you are a better soldier ; 
 Let it appear so ; make your vaunting true, 
 And it shall please me well. For my own part, 
 I shall be glad to learn of noble men. 
 
 Cas. You wrong me every way ; you wrong me, Brutus; 
 I said an elder soldier, not a better : 
 Did I say better ? 
 
 Bru. If you did, I care not. 
 
200 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Cas. When Caesar lived, he durst not thus have moved 
 me. 
 
 Bru. Peace ! peace ! you durst not so have tempted him 
 
 Cas. I durst not ? 
 
 Bru. No. 
 
 Cas. What, durst not tempt him ? 
 
 Bru. For your life you durst not. 
 
 Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love ; 
 I may do what I shall be sorry for. 
 
 Bru. You have done what you should be sorry for 
 There is no terrour, Cassius, in your threats ; 
 For I am armed so strong in honesty, 
 That they pass by me as the idle wind, 
 Which I respect not. I did send to you 
 For certain sums of gold, which you denied me ; 
 For I can raise no money by vile means. 
 
 1 had rather coin my heart, 
 
 And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring 
 
 From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash, 
 
 By any indirection. I did send 
 
 To you for gold to pay my legions, 
 
 Which you denied me ; was that done like Cassius ? 
 
 Should I have answered Caius Cassius so ? 
 
 When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, 
 
 To lock such rascal counters from his friends, 
 
 Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts, 
 
 Dash him in pieces. 
 
 Cas. I denied you not, 
 
 Bru. You did. 
 
 Cas. I did not ; he was but a fool 
 That brought my answer back. Brutus hath rived my heart ; 
 A friend should bear a friend's infirmities ; 
 But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. 
 
 Bru. I do not, till you practise them on me. 
 
 Cas. You love me not. 
 
 Bru. I do not like your faults. 
 
 Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults. 
 
 Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they do 
 Appear as huge as high Olympus. 
 
 Cas. Come, Anthony, and young Octavius, come ! 
 Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius; 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 201 
 
 For Cassius is a-weary of the world ; 
 
 Hated by one he loves ; braved by his brother ; 
 
 Checked by a bondman ; all his faults observed, 
 
 Set in a note-book, learned and conned by rote, 
 
 To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep 
 
 My spirit from my eyes ! — There is my dagger, 
 
 And here my naked breast ! within, a heart 
 
 Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold ! 
 
 If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth. 
 
 I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart : 
 
 Strike as thou didst at Caesar ; for I know, 
 
 When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him better 
 
 Than ever thou lovedst Cassius. 
 
 Bru. Sheath your dagger ; 
 Be angry when you will, it shall have scope ; 
 Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour. 
 O, Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb, 
 That carries anger as the flint bears fire ; 
 Which, much enforced, shows a hasty spark, 
 And straight is cold again. 
 
 Cas. Hath Cassius lived 
 To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, 
 When grief and blood ill-tempered vexeth him ? 
 
 3ru. When I spoke that, I was ill-tempered too. 
 
 Cas. Do you confess so much ? Give me your hand. 
 
 Bru. And my heart too. 
 
 Cas. O, Brutus ! 
 
 Bru. What's the matter ? 
 
 Cas. Have you not love enough to bear with me 
 When that rash humour which my mother gave me 
 Makes me forgetful ? 
 
 Bru. Yes, Cassius ; and henceforth, 
 When you are over-earnest with your Brutus, 
 He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so. 
 
 Speech of Demosthenes to the Athenians, concern- 
 ing the Regulation of the State. 
 
 jL OU ask, Athenians, " What real advantage have we 
 derived from the speeches of Demosthenes ? He rises when 
 
202 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR 
 
 he thinks proper ; he deafens us with his harangues ; he de- 
 claims against the degeneracy of present times ; he tells 
 us of the virtues of our ancestors ; he transports us by his 
 airy extravagance; he puffs up our vanity; and then sits 
 down." 
 
 2. But, could these my speeches once gain an effectual in- 
 fluence upon your minds, so great would be the advantages 
 conferred upon my country, that, were I to attempt to speak 
 them, they would appear to many as visionary. Yet still I 
 must, assume the merit of doing some service, by accustoming 
 you to hear salutary truths. 
 
 3. And, if your counsellors be solicitous for any point of 
 moment to their country, let them first cure your ears ; for 
 they are distempered ; and this from the inveterate habit 
 of listening to falsehoods, to every thing, rather than your real 
 interests. 
 
 4. There is no man who dares openly and boldly to de- 
 clare in what case our constitution is subverted. But I 
 shall declare it. When you, Athenians, become a helpless 
 rabble, without conduct, without property, without arms, 
 without order, without unanimity ; when neither your gene- 
 ral, nor any other person, hath the least respect for your de- 
 crees ; when no man dares to inform you of this your condi- 
 tion, to urge the necessary reformation, much less to exert his 
 effort to effect it ; then is your constitution subverted. And 
 this is now the case. 
 
 5. But, O my fellow-citizens ! a language of a different 
 nature hath poured in upon us; false, and highly danger- 
 ous to the state. Such is that assertion, that in your tribu- 
 nals is your great security ; that your right of suffrage is 
 the real bulwark of the constitution. That these tribunals 
 are our common resource in all private contests, I ac- 
 knowledge. 
 
 6. But it is by arms we are to subdue our enemies ; by 
 arms we are to defend our state. It is not by our decrees 
 that we can conquer. To those, on the contrary, who fight 
 our battles with success, to these we owe the power of decree- 
 ing, of transacting all our affairs, without control or danger. 
 In arms, then, let us be terrible ; in our judicial transactions, 
 humane. 
 
 7. If it be observed, that these sentiments are more ele- 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 203 
 
 vated than might be expected from my character, the obser- 
 vation, I confess, is just. Whatever is said about a state of 
 such dignity, upon affairs of such importance, should appear 
 more elevated than any character. To your worth should it 
 correspond, not to that of the speaker. 
 
 8. And now I shall inform you why none of those, who 
 stand high in your esteem, speak in the same manner. The 
 candidates for office and employment go about soliciting your 
 voices, the slaves of popular favour. To gain the rank of gen- 
 eral, is each man's great concern ; not to fill this station with 
 true manlike intrepidity. 
 
 9. Courage, if he possess it, he deems unnecessary ; for 
 -thus he reasons ; he has the honour, the renown of this city 
 to support him ; he finds himself free from oppression and con- 
 trol ; he needs but to amuse you with fair hopes ; and thus he 
 secures a kind of inheritance in your emoluments. And he 
 reasons truly. 
 
 10. But, do you yourselves once assume the conduct of 
 your own affairs ; and then, as you take an equal share of 
 duty, so shall you acquire an equal share of glory. Now, 
 your ministers and publick speakers, without one thought of 
 directing you faithfully to your true interest, resign themselves 
 entirely to these generals. Formerly you divided into classes, 
 in order to raise the supplies ; now the business of the classes 
 is to gain the management of publick affairs. 
 
 11. The orator is the leader ; the general seconds his at- 
 tempts; the Three Hundred are the assistants, on each side ; 
 and all others take their parties, and serve to fill up the seve- 
 ral factions. And you see the consequences. 
 
 12. This man gains a statue; this amasses a fortune ; one 
 or two command the state ; while you sit down unconcerned 
 witnesses of their success ; and, for an uninterrupted course of 
 ease and indolence, give them up those great and glorious ad- 
 vantages, which really belong to you. 
 
 Judge Hale's Advice to his Children. 
 
 vIBSERVE, and mark as well as you may, what is the 
 temper and disposition of those persons, whose speeches you 
 
204 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR 
 
 hear, whether they be grave, serious, sober, wise, discreet 
 persons. If they be such, their speeches commonly are 
 like themselves, and well deserve your attention and obser- 
 vation. 
 
 2. But if they be light, impertinent, vain, passionate per- 
 sons, their speech is, for the most part, accordingly ; and the 
 best advantage that you will gain by their speech, is but there- 
 by to learn their dispositions ; to discern their failings, and to 
 make yourselves the more cautious, both in your conversation 
 with them, and in your own speech and deportment ; for in 
 the unseemliness of their speech you may better discern and 
 avoid the like in yourselves. 
 
 3. If any person, that you do not very well know to be* 
 a person of truth, sobriety and weight, relate strange 
 stories, be not too ready or easy to believe them, nor re- 
 port them after him. And yet, unless he be one of your 
 familiar acquaintance, be not too forward to contradict him ; 
 or, if the necessity of the occasion require you to declare 
 your opinion of what is so reported, let it be modestly and 
 gently, not too bluntly or coarsely. By this mean, on the 
 one side, you will avoid being abused by your too much 
 credulity; on the other side, you will avoid quarrels and 
 distaste. 
 
 4. If any man speak any thing to the disadvantage or re- 
 proach of one that is absent, be not too ready to believe it ; 
 only observe and remember it ; for it may be it is not true, 
 or it is not all twae, or some other circumstances were min- 
 gled with it, which might give the business reported a justi- 
 fication, or, at least, an allay, an extenuation, or a reasonable 
 excuse. 
 
 5. If any person report unto you some injury done to you 
 by another, either in words or deeds, do not be over-hasty in 
 believing it, nor suddenly angry with the person so accused ; 
 for it is possible it may be false or mistaken ; and how un- 
 seemly a thing will it be, when your credulity and passion 
 shall perchance carry you, upon a supposed injury, to do wrong 
 to him that hath done you none. 
 
 6. When a person is accused or reported to have injured 
 you, before you give yourself leave to be angry, think 
 with yourself, why should I be angry before I am certain 
 it is true ; or, if it be true, how can I tell how much I 
 
THE AxMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 205 
 
 should be angry, till I know the whole matter ? Though it 
 may be he hath done me wrong, yet, possibly, it is misrep- 
 resented, or it was done by mistake, or, it may be, he is sorry 
 for it. 
 
 7. I will not be angry till I know there be cause, and if 
 there be cause, yet I will not be angry till I know the 
 whole cause ; for till then, if I must be angry at all, yet I 
 know not how much to be angry ; it may be it is not worth 
 my anger, or, if it be, it may be it deserves but a little. This 
 will keep your mind and carriage upon such occasions in a 
 due temper and order ; and will disappoint 'malicious or offi- 
 cious tale-bearers. 
 
 8. If a man, whose integrity you do not very well know, 
 make you great and extraordinary professions and promises, 
 give him as kind thanks as may be, but give not much credit 
 to it. Cast about with yourself what may be the reason of his 
 wonderful kindness ; it is twenty to one but you will find some- 
 thing that he aims at besides kindness to you. 
 
 9. If a man flatter and commend you to your face, or to 
 one that he thinks will tell you of it, it is a thousand to one, 
 either he hath deceived and abused you some way, or means 
 to do so. Remember the fable of the fox commending the 
 singing of the crow, when she had somewhat in her mouth 
 that the fox liked. 
 
 10. If a person be cholerick, passionate, and give you ill 
 language, remember, first, rather to pity him than to be 
 moved into anger and passion with him ; for, most certainly, 
 that man is in a distemper, and disordered. Observe him 
 calmly, and you shall see in him so much perturbation and 
 disturbance, that you will easily believe he is not a pattern to 
 be imitated by you ; and, therefore, return not choler for an- 
 ger ; ibr you do but put yourself into a kind of frenzy because 
 you see him so. 
 
 11. Be sure you return not railing, reproaching or revil- 
 ing for reviling ; for it doth but kindle more heat ; and you 
 will find silence, or at least very gentle words, the most ex- 
 quisite revenge for reproaches that can be ; for either it will 
 cure the distemper in the other, and make him see and be 
 sorry for his passion, or it will torment him with more pertur- 
 bation and disturbance. 
 
 12. Some men are excellent in the knowledge of hus- 
 
 - 18 
 
206 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR 
 
 bandry, some of planting, some of gardening, some in the 
 mathematicks, some in one kind, some in another ; in all 
 your conversation, learn as near as you can wherein the 
 skill and excellence of any person lies, and put him upon 
 talk of that subject, and observe it, and keep it in memory 
 or writing ; by this mean you will glean up the worth and 
 excellence of every person you meet with, and at an e&sy 
 rate put together that which may be for your use upon all 
 occasions. 
 
 Conclusion of Judge Hale's Advice to his Children. 
 
 I^ONVERSE not with a liar or a swearer, or a man of 
 obscene or wanton language ; for either he will corrupt 
 you, or at least it will hazard your reputation to be one of 
 the like making. And if it doth neither, yet it will fill your 
 memory with such discourses that will be troublesome to 
 you in after-time, and the returns of the remembrance of 
 the passages which you long since heard of this nature, 
 will haunt you, when your thoughts should be better em- 
 ployed. *'- 
 
 2. Let your speech be true ; never speak any thing for 
 a truth which you know or believe to be false. It is a great 
 sin against God, who gave you a tongue, to speak your offence 
 against humanity itself; for where' there is no truth, there can 
 be no safe society between man and man. 
 
 3. As you must be careful not to lie, so you must avoid 
 coming near to it ; you must not equivocate ; you must not 
 speak that absolutely, which you have but by hearsay or 
 relation ; you must not speak that as upon knowledge, which 
 you have but by conjecture or opinion only. 
 
 4. Let your words be few, especially when your betters, 
 or strangers, or men of experience or understanding, are 
 present; for you do yourself at once two great mischiefs. 
 First, you betray and discover your own weakness and folly. 
 Secondly, you rob yourself of that opportunity, which you 
 might otherwise have, to gain knowledge, wisdom and ex- 
 perience, by hearing those whom you silence by your im- 
 pertinent talking. 
 
 5. Be not over-earnest, loud or violent in talking; for 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 207 
 
 it is unseemly ; and earnest and loud talking make you over- 
 shoot and lose your business. When you should be consid- 
 ering and pondering your thoughts, and how to express them 
 significantly, and to the purpose, you ftre striving to keep 
 your tongue going, and to* silence an opponent, not with rea- 
 son, but with noise. 
 
 6. Be careful not to interrupt another in his talk ; hear him 
 out ; you will understand him the better, and be able to give 
 him the better answer. It may be, if you will give him leave, 
 he will say something more than you have yet heard, or well 
 understood, or that which you did not expect. 
 
 7. Always before you speak, especially where the busi- 
 ness is of moment, consider beforehand, weigh the sense 
 of your mind, which you intend to utter ; think upon the 
 expressions you intend to use, that they may be significant, 
 pertinent and inoffensive ; and whereas it is the ordinary 
 course of inconsiderate persons to speak their words, and 
 then to think, or not to think till they speak y think first 
 and speak after, if it be in any matter of moment or serious*- 
 ness. 
 
 8. Be sure you give not an ill report to any that you are 
 not sure deserves it. And in most cases, though a man de- 
 serve ill, yet you should be sparing to report him so. In 
 some cases, indeed, you are bound, in honesty and justice, 
 to give that account concerning the demerit or default of a 
 person that he deserves. 
 
 9. Avoid scoffing, and bitter and biting jeering, and jest- 
 ing, especially at the condition, credit, deformity or natural 
 defects of any person ; for these leave a deep impression, 
 and are most apparent injustice ; for, were you so used, 
 you would take it amiss ; and many times such an injury 
 costs a man dear, when he little thinks of it. 
 
 10. Be very careful that you give no reproachful, bitter, 
 menacing or spiteful words to any person ; nay, not to ser- 
 vants, or other persons of an inferiour condition. There is 
 no person so mean but that you may stand in need of him in 
 one kind, or at some time or another. Good words make 
 friends, bad words make enemies ; it is the best prudence 
 in the world to make as many friends as honestly you can. 
 
 11. If there be occasion for you to speak in any compa- 
 ny, always be careful, if you speak at all, to speak latest, 
 
208 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 especially if strangers are in company ; for by this mean 
 you will have the advantage of knowing the sense, judge- 
 ment, temper and relations of others, which may be a great 
 light and help to you in ordering your speech; and you 
 will better know the inclination of the company, arid speak 
 with more advantage and acceptation, and with more secu- 
 rity against giving offence. 
 
 12. Be careful that you commend not yourselves ; it is 
 the most useless thing that can be. You should avoid flat- 
 tery from others, but especially decline flattering yourselves. 
 It is a sign your reputation is small and sinking, if your own 
 tongues must be your flatterers and commenders; and it is 
 a fulsome and unpleasing thing for others to hear it. 
 
 13. Abhor all foul, unclean and obscene speeches; it is 
 a sign that the heart is corrupt ; and such kind of speeches 
 will make it worse ; it will taint and corrupt yourselves and 
 those who hear it, and bring disreputation on those who use it. 
 
 14. Never use any profane speeches, nor make jests of 
 scripture expressions. When you use the names of God or 
 Christ, or any passages or words of the holy scripture, use 
 them with reverence and seriousness, and not lightly or 
 scurrilously, for it is taking the name of God in vain. 
 
 15. If you hear any unseemly expressions used in religious 
 exercises, you must be careful to forget and not to publish 
 them ; or if you at all mention them, let it be with pity and 
 sorrow, not with derision or reproach. 
 
 Brutus 5 Speech on the Death of CiESAiu 
 
 Romans, Countrymen, and Lovers, 
 
 JtiEAR me, for my cause ; and be silent, that you 
 may hear. Believe me, for mine honour ; and have respect 
 for mine honour, that you may believe. Censure me, in your 
 wisdom ; and awake your senses, that you may the better 
 judge. 
 
 2. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of 
 Caesar, to him I say, that Brutus' love to Caesar was no less 
 than his. If, then, that friend demand, why Brutus rose 
 against Caesar, this is my answer ; not that I loved Caesar 
 less, but that I loved Rome more. 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 209 
 
 3. Had you rather Caesar were living, ami die all slaves, 
 than that Caesar were dead, to live all freemen ? As Caesar 
 loved me, I weep for him ; as he was fortunate, I rejoice 
 at it ; as he was valiant, I honour him ; but, as he was am- 
 bitious, — I slew him. 
 
 4. There are tears for his love, joy for his fortune, honour 
 for his valour, and death — for his ambition. Who's here so 
 base, that he would be a bondman 1 If any, — speak ; for him 
 have I offended. 
 
 5. Who's here so rude, that he would not be a Roman 1 
 If any^ — speak ; for him have I offended. Who's here so 
 vile, that he will not love his country ? If any, — speak ; for 
 him have I offended. I pause for a reply 
 
 6. None 1 Then none have I offended. I have done no 
 more to Caesar than you shall do to Brutus. And, as I slew my 
 best lover for the good of Rome, I reserve the same dagger for 
 myself, whenever it shall please my country to need my death. 
 
 Antony's Speech over the Body of Cjesar. 
 
 Friends, Romans, Countrymen, 
 
 JLjEND me your ears : 
 I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. 
 The evil that men do lives after them ; 
 The good is oft interred with their bones : 
 So let it be with Caesar ! 
 
 2. Noble Brutus 
 
 Hath told you, Caesar was ambitious, 
 If it were so, it was a grievous fault ; 
 And grievously hath Caesar answered it. 
 Here, under leave of Brutus, and the rest, 
 (For Brutus is an honourable man ; 
 So are they all, all honourable men,) 
 Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral. 
 
 3. He was my friend, faithful and just to me : 
 But Brutus says he was ambitious ; 
 
 And Brutus is an honourable man. 
 He hath brought many captives home to Rome, 
 Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill : 
 Did this in Caesar seem ambitious ? 
 18* 
 
210 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR, 
 
 4. When that the poor hath cried, Caesar hath wept : 
 Ambition should be made of sterner stuff. 
 
 Yet Brutus says he was ambitious ; 
 And Brutus is an honourable man. 
 
 5. You all did see, that, on the Lupercal, 
 I thrice presented him a kingly crown ; 
 
 Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition ? 
 Yet Brutus says he was ambitious ; 
 And sure he is an honourable man. 
 
 6. I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke ; 
 But here I am to speak what I do know. 
 
 You all did love him once ; not without cause ; 
 What cause withholds you then to mourn for him ? 
 
 judgement ! Thou art fled to brutish beasts, 
 And men have lost their reason. — 
 
 7. Bear with me : 
 
 My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar ; 
 
 And I must pause till it come back to me. 
 
 But yesterday, the word of Caesar might 
 
 Have stood against the world ! now lies he there, 
 
 And none so poor to do him reverence. 
 
 8. O masters ! If I were disposed to stir 
 Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, 
 
 1 should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong ; 
 Who, you all know, are honourable men. 
 
 I will not do them wrong — I rather choose 
 To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you, 
 Than I will wrong such honourable men. 
 
 9. But here's a parchment, with the seal of Caesar ; 
 I found it in his closet : 'tis his will. 
 
 Let but the commons hear this testament, 
 (Which, pardon me, 1 do not mean to read, ) 
 And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds, 
 And dip their napkins in his sacred blood — 
 Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, 
 And, dying, mention it within their wills, 
 Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy, 
 Unto their issue. — 
 
 10. If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. 
 You all do know this mantle : I remember 
 
 The first time ever Caesar put it on ; 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 211 
 
 'Twas on a summer's evening in his tent, 
 
 That day he overcame the Nervii' 
 
 Look ! in this place ran Cassius' dagger through- 
 
 See what a rent the envious Casca made 
 
 Through this, the well-beloved Brutus stabbed ; 
 And, as he plucked his cursed steel away, 
 Mark how the blood of Caesar followed it !- 
 
 11. This, this was the unkindest cut of all. 
 For, when the noble Caesar saw him stab, 
 Ingratitude, more strong than traitor's arms, 
 
 Quite vanquished him ! Then burst his mighty heart, 
 
 And, in his mantle muffling up his face, 
 
 Even at the base of Pompey's statue, 
 
 (Which all the while ran blood,) great Caesar fell. 
 
 12. O what a fall was there, my countrymen ! 
 Then I, and you, and ail of us, fell down ; 
 
 Whilst bloody treason flourished over us. 
 
 O, now you weep ; and I perceive you feel 
 The dint of pity ! — These are gracious drops. 
 Kind souls ! What, weep you when you but behold 
 Our Caesar's vesture wounded ? Look you here ! — 
 Here is himself — marred, as you see, by traitors. 
 
 13. Good friends ! Sweet friends ! Let me not stir } r ou up 
 To such a sudden flood of mutiny ! 
 
 They that have done this deed are honourable I 
 What private griefs they have, alas, I know not, 
 That made them do it ! They are wise and honourable, 
 And will, no doubt, with reason answer you. 
 
 14. I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts ! 
 I am no orator, as Brutus is, 
 
 But, as you know me all, a plain, blunt man, 
 That love my friend — and that they know full well, 
 That gave me publick leave to speak of him ; 
 For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, 
 Action, nor utterance, nor power of speech, 
 To stir men's blood 
 
 15. I only speak right on ; 
 
 I tell you that which you yourselves do know 
 
 Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor, poor, dumb mouths—* 
 
 And bid them speak for me. But, were I Brutus, 
 
 And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony 
 
212 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue 
 In every wound of Caesar, that should move 
 The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny. 
 
 ROLLA AND ALONZQ. 
 
 Enter Roll a, disguised as a monk. 
 
 Rolla. J.NFORM me, friend, is Alonzo, the Peruvian, 
 confined in this dungeon ? 
 
 Sentinel. He is. 
 
 Rol. I must speak with him. 
 
 Sent. You must not. 
 
 Rol. He is my friend. 
 
 Sent . Not if he were your brother. 
 
 Rol. What is to be his fate ? 
 
 Sent. He dies at sunrise. 
 
 Rol. Ha ! then I am come in time — 
 
 Sent. Just to witness his death. 
 
 Rol. {Advancing towards the door.) Soldier — I must speak 
 with him. 
 
 Sent (Pushing him back with his gun.) Back ! back ! it is 
 impossible. 
 
 Rol. I do entreat you but for one moment. 
 
 Sent. You entreat in vain — my orders are most strict. 
 
 Rol. Look on this wedge of massy gold ! Look on these 
 precious gems ! In thy land they will be wealth for thee 
 and thine beyond thy hope or wish. Take them ; they are 
 thine : — let me but pass one moment with Alonzo. 
 
 Sent. Away ! Wouldst thou corrupt me ? Me, an old 
 Castilian ! 1 know my duty better. 
 
 Rol. Soldier, hast thou a wife ? 
 
 Sent. I have. 
 
 Rol, Hast thou children ? 
 
 Sent. Four, honest, lovely boys. 
 
 Rol. Where didst thou leave them ? 
 
 Sent. In my native village, in the very cot where I was 
 born. 
 
 Rol. Dost thou love thy wife and children ? 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 213 
 
 Sent. Do I love them ? God knows my heart, — I do. 
 
 Rol. Soldier, imagine thou wert doomed to die a cruel 
 death in a strange land — What would be thy last request ? 
 
 Sent. That some of my comrades should carry my dying 
 blessing to my wife and children. 
 
 Rol. What if that comrade was at thy prison door, and 
 should there be told, thy fellow-soldier dies at sunrise, yet 
 thou shalt not for a moment see him, nor shalt thou bear 
 his dying blessing to his poor children, or his wretched 
 wife, — what wouldst thou think of him who thus could drive 
 thy comrade from the door 1 
 
 Sent. How? 
 
 Rol Alonzo has a wife and child ; and I am come but to 
 receive for her, and for her poor babe, the last blessing of my 
 friend. 
 
 Sent. Go in. (Exit sentinel) 
 
 Rol (Calls.) Alonzo ! Alonzo! 
 
 (Enter Alonzo, speaking as he comes in.) 
 
 Alon. How ! Is my hour elapsed ? Well, I am ready. 
 
 Rol Alonzo, know me ! 
 
 Alon. Rolla ! How didst thou pass the guard ? 
 
 Rol. There is not a moment to be lost in words. This 
 disguise I tore from the dead body of a friar, as I passed our 
 field of battle. It has gained me entrance to thy dungeon ; 
 now take it thou, and fly. 
 
 Alon. And Rolla 
 
 Rol Will remain here in thy place. 
 
 Alon. And die for me ! No ! Rather eternal tortures 
 rack me. 
 
 Rol I shall not die, Alonzo. It is thy life Pizarro seeks, 
 not Rolla' s ; and thy arm may soon deliver me from prison. 
 Or, should it be otherwise, I am as a blighted tree in the 
 desert ; nothing lives beneath my shelter. Thou art a hus- 
 band and a father ; the being of a lovely wife and helpless 
 infant depend upon thy life. Go, go, Alonzo ; not to save 
 thyself, but Cora and thy child. 
 
 Alon. Urge me not thus, my friend — I am prepared to die 
 ji peace. 
 
 Rol To die in peace ; devoting her you've sworn to live 
 for to madness, misery and death ! 
 
 Alon. Merciful heavens ! 
 
214 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR, 
 
 Rol. If thou art yet irresolute, Alonzo, now mark me 
 well. Thou know'st that Rolla never pledged his word and 
 shrunk from its fulfilment. And here I swear, if thou art 
 proudly obstinate, thou shalt have the desperate triumph of 
 seeing Rolla perish by thy side. 
 
 Alon. O Rolla ! you distract me ! Wear you the robe, and, 
 though dreadful the necessity, we will strike down the guard, 
 and force our passage. 
 
 Rol. What, the soldier on duty here ? 
 
 Alon. Yes, else, seeing two, the alarm will be instant 
 death. 
 
 Rol. For my nation's safety, I would not harm him. That 
 soldier, mark me, is a man ! All are notmen that wear the 
 human form. He refused my prayers, refused my gold, 
 denying to admit — till his own feelings bribed him. I will 
 not risk a hair of that man's head, to save my heart-strings 
 from consuming fire. But haste ; a moment's further pause 
 and all is lost. 
 
 Alon. Rolla, I fear thy friendship drives me from honour 
 and from right. 
 
 Rol. Did Rolla ever counsel dishonour to his friend? 
 ( Throwing the friar's garment over his shoulders.) There ! 
 conceal thy face — Now God be with thee. 
 
 General Wolfe's Address to his Army. 
 
 JL CONGRATULATE you, my brave countrymen and 
 fellow-soldiers, on the spirit and success with which you have 
 executed this important part of our enterprise. The formi- 
 dable Heights of Abraham are now surmounted ; and the 
 city of Quebec, the object of all our toils, now stands in full 
 view before us. 
 
 2. A perfidious enemy, who have dared to exasperate you 
 by their cruelties, but not to oppose you on equal ground, are 
 now constrained to face you on the open plain, without ram- 
 parts or intrenchments to shelter them. 
 
 3. You know too well the forces which compose their 
 army to dread their super iour numbers, A few regular 
 troops from Old France, weakened by hunger and sickness, 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 215 
 
 who, when fresh, were unable to withstand British soldiers, 
 are their general's chief dependence. 
 
 4. Those numerous companies of Canadians, insolent, 
 mutinous, unsteady and ill disciplined, have exercised his 
 utmost skill to keep them together to this time ; and, as soon 
 as their irregular ardour is damped by one firm fire, they will 
 instantly turn their backs, and give you no further trouble, 
 but in the pursuit. 
 
 5. As for those savage tribes of Indians, whose horrid 
 jells in the forest have struck many a bold heart with af- 
 fright, terrible as they are with the tomahawk and scalping 
 knife to a flying and prostrate foe, you have experienced how 
 little their ferocity is to be dreaded by resolute men upon fair 
 and open ground. You can now only consider them as the 
 just objects of a severe revenge for the unhappy fate of many 
 slaughtered countrymen. 
 
 6. This day puts it into your power to terminate the fa- 
 tigues of a siege, which has so long employed your cour- 
 age and patience. Possessed with a full confidence of the 
 certain success which British valour must gain over such 
 enemies, I have led you up these steep and dangerous 
 rocks ; only solicitous to show you the foe within your 
 reach. 
 
 7. The impossibility of a retreat makes no difference in 
 the \ situation of men resolved to conquer or die ; and, be- 
 lieve me, my friends, if your conquest could be bought with 
 the blood of your general, he would most cheerfully resign a 
 life which he has long devoted to his country. 
 
 FOSCARI, THE UNFORTUNATE VENETIAN. 
 
 JL HE most affecting instance of the odious inflexibility of 
 Venetian courts, appears in the case of Foscari, son of the 
 doge of that name. This young man had, by some impru* 
 dences, given offence to the senate, and was, by their orders, 
 confined at Treviso, when Almor Donato, one of the Council 
 of Ten, was assassinated, on the 5th of November; 1450, as he 
 entered his own house. 
 
216 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 2. A reward, in ready money, with pardon for this, or 
 any other crime, and a pension of two hundred ducats, re- 
 vertible to children, was promised to any person who would 
 discover the planner or perpetrator of this crime. No such 
 discovery was made. 
 
 3. One of young Foscari's footmen, named Olivier, had 
 been observed loitering near Donato's house on the evening 
 of the murder ; he fled from Venice next morning. These, 
 with other circumstances of less importance, created a strong 
 suspicion that Foscari had engaged this man to commit the 
 murder. 
 
 4. Olivier was taken, brought to Venice, put to the tor- 
 ture, and confessed nothing ; yet the Council of Ten, being 
 prepossessed with an opinion of their guilt, and imagining 
 that the master would have less resolution, used him in the 
 same cruel manner. The unhappy young man, in the 
 midst of his ag&ny , continued to assert, that he knew nothing 
 of the assassination. 
 
 5. This convinced the court of his firmness, but not of 
 his innocence ; yet, as there was no legal proof of his guilt, 
 thev coula not sentence him to death. He was condemned 
 to pass the rest of his life in banishment, at Canea, in the 
 island of Candia. 
 
 6. This unfortunate youth bore his exile with more im- 
 patience than he had done the rack : he often wrote to his 
 relations and friends, praying them to intercede in his be- 
 half, that the term of his banishment might be abridged, 
 and that he might be permitted to return to his family be- 
 fore he died. All his applications were fruitless; those to 
 whom he addressed himself had never interfered in his fa- 
 vour, for fear of giving offence to the obdurate Council, or 
 had interfered m vain. 
 
 7. After languishing five years in exile, having lost all 
 hope of return through the interposition of his own family 
 or countrymen, in a fit of despair, he addressed the duke 
 of Mil'an, putting him in mind of services which the doge, 
 his father, had rendered him, arid begging that he would 
 use his powerful influence with the state of Venice that his 
 sentence might be recalled. 
 
 8. He intrusted his letter to a merchant, going from 
 Canea to Venice, who promised to take the first opportu- 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 217 
 
 nity of sending it from thence to the duke ; instead of 
 which, this wretch, as soon as he arrived at Venice, deliv- 
 ered it to the chiefs of the Council of Ten. 
 
 9. This conduct of young Foscari appeared criminal in 
 the eyes of those judges ; for, by the laws of the republic, 
 all ks subjects are expressly forbidden to claim the protec- 
 tion of foreign princes, in any thing which relates to the 
 government of Venice. 
 
 10. Foscari was therefore ordered to be brought from 
 Candia, and shut up in the state prison. There the chiefs 
 of the Council of Ten ordered him once more to be put 
 to the torture, to draw from him the motives which deter 
 mined him to apply to the duke of Mil 7 an. Such an exer- 
 tion of law is, indeed, the most flagrant injustice. 
 
 11. The miserable youth declared to the Council, that 
 he wrote the letter in the full persuasion that the merchant, 
 whose character he knew, would betray him, and deliver it 
 to them ; the consequence of which, he foresaw, would be 
 his being ordered back a prisoner to Venice, the only means 
 he had in his power of seeing his parents and friends ; a 
 pleasure for which he had languished, with insurmountable 
 desire, for some time, and which he was willing to purchase 
 at the expense of any danger or pain. 
 
 12. The judges, little affected with this generous instance 
 of filial piety, ordained, that the unhappy young man should 
 be carried back to Candia, and there be imprisoned for a 
 year, and remain banished to that island for life, with this 
 condition, that, if he should make any more applications 
 to foreign powers, his imprisonment should be perpetual. 
 At the same time, they gave permission that the doge and 
 his lady might visit their unfortunate son. 
 
 13. The doge was, at this time, very old ; he had been 
 in possession of the office above thirty years. Those 
 wretched parents had an interview with their son in one of 
 the apartments of the palace ; they embraced him with 
 all the tenderness which his misfortunes and his filial affec- 
 tion deserved. 
 
 14. The father exhorted him to bear his hard fate with 
 firmness. The son protested, in the most moving terms, 
 that ,this was not in his power ; that, however others could 
 support the dismal loneliness of a prison, he could not ; 
 
 19 
 
218 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 that his heart was formed for friendship, and the recipro* 
 cal endearments of social life; without which, his soul 
 sunk into dejection worse than death, from which alone he 
 should look for relief, if he should again be confined to the 
 horrours of a prison. And, melting into tears, he sunk at 
 his father's feet, imploring him to take compassion on a son 
 who had ever loved him with the most dutiful affection, and 
 who was perfectly innocent of the crime of which he was 
 accused. 
 
 15. He conjured him by every bond of nature and reli- 
 gion, by the feelings of a father, and the mercy of a Re- 
 deemer, to use his influence with the Council to mitigate 
 their sentence, that he might be saved from the most cruel 
 of all deaths, that of expiring under the slow tortures of a 
 broken heart, in a horrible banishment from every creature 
 he loved. "My son," replied the doge, "submit to the 
 laws of your country, and do not ask of me what it is not in my 
 power to obtain." 
 
 16. Having made this effort, he retired to another apart- 
 ment ; and, unable to support any longer the acuteness of 
 his feelings, sunk into a state of insensibility, in which con- 
 dition he remained till some time after his son had sailed on 
 his return to Candia. 
 
 17. Nobody has presumed to describe the anguish of the 
 wretched mother. Those who are endowed with the most 
 exquisite sensibility, and who have experienced distresses 
 in some degree similar, will have the justest idea of what 
 it was. 
 
 18. The accumulated misery of those unhappy parents 
 touched the hearts of some of the most powerful senators, 
 who applied with so much energy for a complete pardon for 
 young Foscari, that they were on the point of obtaining it ; 
 when a vessel arrived from Candia, with tidings, that the 
 miserable youth had expired in prison, a short time after 
 his return. 
 
 19. Some years after this, Nicholas Erizzo. a noble Ve- 
 netian, being on his death-bed, confessed that, bearing a 
 violent resentment against the senator Donato, he had com- 
 mitted the assassination for which the unhappy family of 
 Foscari had suffered so much. 
 
 20. At this time the sorrows of the doge were at an 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 219 
 
 end ; he had existed only a few months after the death of 
 his son. His life had been prolonged till he beheld his son 
 persecuted to death for an infamous crime ; but not till he 
 should see this foul stain washed from his family, and the 
 innocence of his beloved son made manifest to the world. 
 
 21. The ways of Heaven never appeared more dark and 
 intricate than in the incidents and ca-tas'tro-phe of this 
 mournful story. To reconcile the permission of such 
 events to our ideas of infinite power and goodness, howev- 
 er difficult, is a natural attempt in the human mind, and has 
 exercised the ingenuity of philosophers in all ages ; while, 
 in the eye of Christians, those seeming perplexities afford 
 an additional proof that there will be a future state, in which 
 the ways of God to man will oe fully justified. 
 
 Part of Cicero's Oration against Ver'res. 
 
 X ASK now, Verres, what you have to advance against 
 this charge ? Will you pretend to deny it ? Will you pre- 
 tend that any thing false, that even any thing aggravated, is 
 alleged against you ? 
 
 2. Had any prince, or any state, committed the same 
 outrage against the privilege of Roman citizens, should 
 we not think we had sufficient reason for declaring immediate 
 war against them ? 
 
 3. What punishment, then, ought to be inflicted upon a 
 tyrannical and wicked pretor, who dared, at no greater dis- 
 tance than Sicily, within sight of the Italian coast, to put to 
 the infamous death of crucifixion that unfortunate and inno- 
 cent citizen, Publius Gavius Cofanus, only for his having 
 asserted his privilege of citizenship, and declared his inten- 
 tion of appealing to the justice of his country against a cruel 
 oppressor, who had unjustly confined him in prison at Syra- 
 cuse, whence he had just made his escape ? 
 
 4. The unhappy man, arrested as he was going to em- 
 bark for his native country, is brought before the wicked 
 pretor. With eyes darting fury, and a countenance distort- 
 ed with cruelty, he orders the helpless victim of his rage 
 to be stripped, and rods to be brought ; accusing him, but 
 
220 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 without the least shadow of evidence, or even of suspicion, of 
 having come to Sicily as a spy. 
 
 5. It was in vain that the unhappy man cried out, " I am 
 a Roman citizen ; I have served under Lucius Pretius, who 
 is now at Panormus, and will attest my innocence." The 
 blood-thirsty pretor, deaf to all he could urge in his own de- 
 fence, ordered the infamous punishment to be inflicted. 
 
 6. Thus, fathers, was an innocent Roman citizen publick- 
 ly mangled with scourging ; whilst the only words he utter- 
 ed amidst his cruel sufferings were, " I am a Roman citizen !" 
 With these he hoped to defend himself from violence and 
 infamy. But of so little service was this privilege to him, 
 that, while he was asserting his citizenship, the order was given 
 for his execution ; for his execution upon the cross ! 
 
 7. O liberty ! O sound once delightful to every Roman 
 ear ; O sacred privilege of Roman citizenship ! once sacred ! 
 now trampled upon ! But what then 1 Is it come to this ? 
 Shall an inferiour magistrate, a governour, who holds his 
 power of the Roman people, in a Roman province within 
 sight of Italy, bind, scourge, torture with fire and red hot 
 plates of iron, and at last put to the infamous death of the 
 cross, a Roman citizen ! 
 
 8. Shall neither the cries of innocence expiring in agony, 
 nor the tears of pitying spectators, nor the majesty of the 
 Roman commonwealth, nor the fear of the justice of his 
 country, restrain the licentious and wanton cruelty of a mon- 
 ster, who, in confidence of his own riches, strikes at the root 
 of liberty, and sets mankind at defiance ? 
 
 9. I conclude with expressing my hopes, that your wis- 
 dom and justice, fathers, will not, by suffering the atro- 
 cious and unexampled insolence of Caius Verres to escape 
 the due punishment, leave room to apprehend the danger 
 of a total subversion of authority, and introduction of general 
 anarchy and confusion. 
 
 History of William Tell. 
 
 JlSeFORE Switzerland was delivered from the dominion of 
 Austria, a governour of that nation resided in the city of 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 221 
 
 Altorff named Gesler ; who, by abusing the power intrusted 
 to him, iniquitously exercised the most cruel tyranny. Inter- 
 est or caprice alone directed his decisions ; justice and reason 
 were banished ; judgment was sold ; the innocent were punish- 
 ed arbitrarily ; and the ministers of the tyrant committed the 
 most enormous crimes with impunity. 
 
 2. He at last added extravagance to cruelty, and, having 
 caused a pole to be erected in a public square, and placed 
 a hat upon it, he ordered, under pain of death, that all who 
 passed that way should bow down before it, and reverence it 
 as they did his own person. 
 
 3. In the same canton there lived a man of rough but 
 frank manners, named William Tell, who, having come 
 on business to Altorff, passed through the publick square, 
 and, beholding the pole with the hat upon it, hesitated a 
 moment between wonder and laughter; but, not knowing 
 its object, and but little curious to inquire, he negligently 
 passed this emblem of power. 
 
 4. The irreverence paid to the pole, and the infraction 
 of the severe edict, were speedily reported to the govern- 
 our, who, being filled with rage, ordered the criminal to 
 be instantly arrested, and brought before him. He receiv- 
 ed the offender with the savage look of cruelty peculiar to a 
 base mind, jealous of its authority, and ferocious when it is 
 made the subject of derision. 
 
 5. " Villain," said he, " is this your respect for my power 
 and decrees ? But you shall feel their full weight, and afford 
 a wretched proof that my dignity is not to be affronted with 
 impunity." Astonished, but not intimidated at this invective, 
 Tell freely inquired of what he was accused, as he was uncon- 
 scious of any crime. 
 
 6. " Contempt and derision of my power," said the tyrant. 
 " I had no notice," replied Tell, " of your edict ; and, without 
 being instructed, I should never have dreamt of saluting a 
 pole, or that irreverence to a hat was high treason against 
 the state." 
 
 7. Enraged at the tone and air of derision with which 
 this was pronounced, and the reasonableness of the still 
 more humiliating reply, he commanded the unfortunate 
 man to be dragged away to the lowest dungeon of the cas- 
 tle, and there, loaded with chains, await his vengeance. 
 
 19* 
 
222 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 8. Whil# the tyrant was revolving the subject in his own 
 mind, and endeavouring to invent some unheard-of punish- 
 ment, which should strike terrour into the Swiss, the only 
 and beloved son of Tell was brought into his presence by the 
 soldiers. 
 
 9. His ingenious cruelty immediately conceived the bar- 
 barous design of compelling the virtuous Tell to become 
 the murderer of his son. For this purpose, he ordered the 
 child to be placed at a considerable distance, and then, plac- 
 ing an apple upon his head, he oifered a full pardon to the 
 wretched parent, if he should strike it off with an arrow. 
 
 10. Horrour-struck at the proposal, he fell at the feet 
 of the tyrant, and besought him to take his life, and not insist 
 upon the fatal experiment. But the anguish of the parent 
 only strengthened the determination of Gesler, and the bow and 
 a quiver of arrows were brought forth. 
 
 11. The governour, attended by his satellites, now pro- 
 ceeded to the souare to witness the scene. The unhappy 
 boy was conducted into the centre, bound to the pole, and 
 the fatal apple was placed upon his head. Gesler thrilled 
 with joy at the preparations, but a groan of horrour arose on 
 all sides from the populace who had assembled. 
 
 12. Although Tell was accounted the most skilful archer 
 in the canton, it was some time before he could obtain his 
 usual self-possession. At last, with a firm hand, he placed 
 the arrow, and, when he drew the fatal string, the spectators, 
 who had for some time remained in breathless silence, burst 
 forth into a convulsive groan. 
 
 13. At that instant the arrow sped with the velocity of 
 lightning, and, piercing the apple, bore it to some distance 
 without injuring the child. A shout of applause testified 
 the joy of the spectators. The governour alone appeared 
 dissatisfied with the result, and turned his eye upon the 
 successful archer with the aspect of disappointed revenge. 
 
 14. At that instant, another arrow, which Tell had con- 
 cealed under his cloak, fell upon the ground. " Unequalled 
 archer," said the tyrant, "since you were only to shoot once, 
 for what purpose was this second arrow concealed?" " To have 
 pierced you to the heart" replied the magnanimous Tell, " if I 
 had been so unfortunate as to MM my son." 
 
 15. The infuriate Gesler immediately ordered his sol- 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 223 
 
 diers to seize him, but the populace interfered, and a tumult 
 ensued, during which a well-directed arrow from the bow of 
 Tell struck the tyrant to the heart, and obtained for the patri- 
 otick hero the honourable appellation of Deliverer of his 
 Country. 
 
 The Field of Battle. 
 
 J- HE sun had disappeared beneath the flood, 
 The watchful sentinels, with weary tread, 
 Measured the waning of the day of blood, 
 And careless trod among the unburied dead. 
 
 2. The grass is wet, but not with wholesome dew ; 
 Its verdure blushes deep with human gore ; 
 
 And friends and foes promiscuously strew 
 This silent bed, at enmity no more. 
 
 3. How few, of all who met with deadly zeal, 
 Knew well the causes of conflicting pride ! 
 How fewer still could personally feel 
 
 The hatred which has laid them side by side ! 
 
 4. I pity such by hard condition led 
 To be the passive instruments of power ; 
 Who sell their lives and liberty for bread 
 To satisfy the cravings of an hour. 
 
 5. No one so mean of all the brave who die, 
 But calls some sympathizing sorrow forth ; 
 Small is the share of grief that meets the eye, 
 Unnoticed falls the tear for humble worth. 
 
 6. Few see the father bending o'er the son, 
 The sole, sad prop on which his age depended ; 
 The helpless widow wandering alone, 
 
 And thousand houseless orphans unbefriended. 
 
 7. O, could the wail of orphans reach his ear, 
 Or could he feel a parent's agony, 
 
 And see the widowed mother's hopeless tear, 
 The sure and dreadful price of victory ; 
 
 8. O, could the ambitious once approach, and view 
 The desolation his ambition made, 
 
 Methinks some milder method he'd pursue, 
 And quit for ever war's unhallowed trade. 
 
224 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 9. O, when will justice guide, and wisdom light, 
 And mercy to the great her rays impart ! 
 
 A splendid victory proves no conqueror right, 
 And worlds could never heal one broken heart. 
 
 10. What is a nation's honour, if the price 
 Is individual peace and happiness ? 
 
 And what is glory, if her temple rise 
 Upon the base of national distress ? 
 
 11. Then, if the certain fruits of war are wo, 
 And the destruction of domestick bliss, 
 Ungathered let the warriour's laurels grow ; 
 They must be poisonous in a soil like this. 
 
 Insincerity in Conversation. 
 
 ItJlUCH has been written on the art of translating from 
 foreign languages, both dead and living; but 1 do not recol- 
 lect that any one has expressly written on the subject of trans- 
 lations from our own language, and the common conversation 
 of life. 
 
 2. I have often remarked how useful it would be, in our in- 
 tercourse with men, if we could discover the real meaning of 
 those who speak or write to us ; not that people do not know 
 how to express their sentiments, but because they wish to be 
 unintelligible. 
 
 3. To prevent being deceived in this manner, it is very 
 necessary to translate what men say into what they think. I 
 do not profess, however, to be skilled in this science, and shall, 
 therefore, only point out a few general precepts, and explain 
 them by examples. 
 
 4. Thus, whenever a man speaks against his own interest, 
 and, with affected modesty, accuses himself of some defect, be 
 on your guard against him ; for, you may depend upon it, there 
 is something in his conversation to be translated, 
 
 5. Great compliments, protestations of esteem, and eulogi- 
 ums upon your merit, mean, in other words, that you are ne- 
 cessary to him who flatters you, and that he is about to ask 
 some favour of you. 
 
 6. In general, the good which is said of others stands in 
 need of some explanation or commentary; but it is not so with 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 225 
 
 the good a man says of himself; his only fear is, that he may 
 not be sufficiently explicit. The majority of females would 
 be indignant at the flattery which is lavished upon them, if 
 they had been accustomed, from their youth, to translate it 
 into its true meaning. 
 
 7. One man is nominated to some publick office to which 
 another is aspiring, who accuses him of incapability and dis- 
 honesty ; but, should he talk whole hours in this strain, his con- 
 versation may be translated by one word, envy. 
 
 8. In fine, I would recommend to all persons who wish to 
 know the truth, not to rest satisfied with the literal expression, 
 but translate, translate ; and recollect, that the obvious sense 
 is not always the true one. Happy, indeed, are those friends, 
 who can converse intelligibly together, and stand in no need 
 of a translation. 
 
 The Yankee in England. 
 
 Selected, by permission, from Scenes in the Drama of Gen- 
 eral Humphreys. 
 
 Enter Doolittle alone. 
 
 Doolittle. vfH, Doolittle, Doolittle! you have brought 
 your pigs to a fine market. Now I guess you'd better staid 
 at hum with mother. She telPd you all about the perils of the 
 salt sea, but you would'nt believe her. No, no ; you were too 
 plaguy knowing for poor mother ; and you e'en-a-most broke 
 her heart, you know you did : (sobhing) yes, yes ; you were 
 a nation deal wiser than brother Jonathan and all the rest on 
 'em. Oh, Doolittle ! Doolittle ! what will become of you next? 
 In strange parts ; all in tatters ; without a copper, or a cent. 
 Where to git a day's work or a meal's victuals is more than I 
 know. But there's no use in being dumpish and downish. 
 I'll boost my sperits up a leetle higher, as the boys do when 
 they go through the burying yard alone in a dark night. 
 ( Whistles the tune of Yankee doodle.) 
 
 Enter General Stuart. 
 
 Gen. You belong to this house, young man, don't you? 
 
 Doo. No ; I guess I belong to America, when I'm at hum. 
 
 Gen. You did'nt exactly comprehend my meaning, but it 
 is of no consequence. But, as you belong to America, and 1 
 
226 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 am acquainted there, I make free to inquire in what part you 
 were born ? 
 
 Doo. Do you know where New-Haven is ? 
 
 Gen. Yes. 
 
 Doo. Well, I was not born there. 
 
 Gen. Why did you ask the question then ? 
 
 Doo. Becaise my daddy was; but afore I was born, he 
 moved up country. 
 
 Gen. But what town gave you birth ? 
 
 Doo. Nun, I vum ; I was born in the woods, as they tell 
 me ; for I dont remember nothing about it myself. 
 
 Gen. But where do they say you were born 2 
 
 Doo. Sumwheres in Varmount, between Brattleboro' and 
 Bennington ; as the Indian said, he was born at Nantucket, 
 Cape Cod, and all along shore. 
 
 Gen. Why, young man, you seem to have some mother wit. 
 
 Doo. I count, if I had any of my own, I should'nt have 
 been ketch'd here. 
 
 Gen. What ! not homesick, are you ? 
 
 Doo. I guess I be, for I feel pretty slim. (Sobbing.) But 
 how to git hum is the divil on't. 
 
 Gen. Why, how did you get here ? 
 
 Doo. By water. Did you think I cum to an island by 
 land? 
 
 Gen. I mean, what brought you ? 
 
 Doo. A vessel, I vum. It would have been a tuff pull to 
 swim three thousand miles. 
 
 Gen. But what kind of a vessel ? 
 
 Doo. A man of war, I spose. 
 
 Gen. You have not the air of a mariner ; were you bred to 
 the sea ? I wish to know your adventures, and how you cal- 
 culated to get a living ? 
 
 Doo. Why, I had some leetle sort of a knack at the coop- 
 ering business. So I heerd them folks who carry it on in the 
 West-Indies died so fast, it was a good trade to live by. And 
 so I counted I should stand as good a chance as others. 
 
 Gen. And did you turn sailor to get there 1 
 
 Doo. Not at first, for I know'd I could not climb up to the 
 tip top of the mast, without being boosted over the lubber 
 hole, as they tarm it; so I agreed to work my passage by 
 cooking for the crew, and taking care of the dumb critters, 
 
THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 227 
 
 Gen. Dumb creatures ! of what articles was your lading 
 composed? live stock? lumber? 
 
 Doo. Yes ; horses, hogs, staves and hoop-poles, with divers 
 bail goods, sich as buckets, pails and sugar boxes. More- 
 over, long sairse and short sairse, consisting of a variety of 
 leetle notions, sich as ingyons, parsnips, butter, candles, soap 
 and ile. 
 
 Gen. A singularly well-assorted cargo ! Did you arrive 
 there safe? 
 
 Doo. No ; I guess we did'nt. 
 
 Gen. Why not? 
 
 Doo. Why, when we had got near our journey's eend> 
 (to which, by the way, I never did git) first cum the Moun- 
 sheers, and began to pillage our necessaries, sich as gin and 
 gingerbread, hang 'em. 
 
 Gen. And what came next? 
 
 Doo. Next? A British midsheepman, so tarmed. And 
 so says he to me, says he, seeing your name is not on the 
 list, among the clean or unclean beasts, I shall make bold to 
 take you for his majesty's sarvice. 
 
 Gen. Did your captain make no opposition to their taking 
 his people away ? 
 
 Doo. Opposition ! What could the captain deu, when they 
 turned right at us their great black guns ? Says .they, cum 
 teu, or we'll sheute. Sheute and be darned, if you dare, says 
 the captain, but if you spill the deacon's ile, I'll make you reu 
 it. And when they got abord, says they, we want none of 
 your pork and lasses, but we will have that likely British boy, 
 meaning me, whose name is not on your shipping papers, and 
 who has no legal pertection. Says I, I won't stir a step ; but 
 I guess I was forc'd teu ; for they got me so tight in their 
 limboes and bilboes, that when I got my body loose, I looked 
 nation poorly a lengthy while arter wards. 
 
 Gen. Then they pressed you ? 
 
 Doo. Yes, and squeezed me teu. But I bawled as bad as 
 I could, and telled them it was a tarnation shame to treat a 
 true-born yankee in that sort of way ; but they did not mind 
 it any more than they deu what the parson says in a gale of 
 wind, as soon as the storm is over, 
 
 Gen, Well, it is all over, and you are in a safe harbour 
 now. 
 
228 THE AMERICAN PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Doo I expect I be. 
 
 Gen. Your name is Doolittle, I think. 
 
 Doo. {Aside.) How the dickens should he know that ! 
 {Aloud.) I guess it is, as likely as not. It was the name of 
 my father and of a pretty ancient stock, which has often 
 been improved by publick posts, at your sarvice. But pray, 
 as you have taken the liberty to ax me so many questions, 
 may I be so bold as to ax what your name is ? Where you 
 cum from 1 How long have you bin here ? Where are you 
 going teu ? And what is your business 1 
 
 Gen. My name is Stewart. I am a general officer in* the 
 British army, and have served in America. 
 
 Doo. O, dear suzz ! I shall always think something better 
 of you for having been in my country. 
 
 Gen. Well, my good fellow, have you a mind to be my 
 servant ? 
 
 Doo. Sarvant, no, nor any body's sarvant. I don't choose 
 to be a sarvant of sarvants, and a slave to the divil, as the 
 saying is. 
 
 Gen. Have you a mind to live with me, then, as my help ? 
 
 Doo. I guess I have. I should be a rotten fool not to have 
 a mind teu ; especially as you appear to have no pride, nor 
 a bit of a ge ] eman about you. 
 
 Gen. {Laughing.) Well, go in to my steward, and he will 
 tell you what to do. 
 
 Exit Doolittle whistling Yankee doodle* 
 
 THE END, 
 
 C 125 
 

 <*^ /Jffe\ \/ .#&, V**" 
 
 
 
 °o 
 
 ** % 
 
 ^V Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
 
 Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
 Treatment Date: Nov. 2007 
 
 * ^1^ °tfSi Pr eservatjon1echnologies 
 
 • :££? A W °RLD LEADER iN COLLECTIONS PRFSFRUflT.nw 
 
 9^i 
 
 > w ^ 
 
 
 LEADER !N COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 
 
 111 Thomson Park Drive 
 Cranberry Township, PA 16066 
 (724)779-2111 
 

 , °<u • • ° a ^