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you can kill him. What good man will ever come again under my roof, if I let my floor be stained with a good man's blood ?

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.



See how the black ship cleaves the main,
High-bounding o'er the violet wave,
Remurmuring with the groans of pain,
Deep freighted with the PRINCELY SLAVE !

Did all the gods of Afric fleep,
Forgetful of their guardian love,
When the white traitors of the deep
Betray'd him in the palmy grove !

3. A Chief of Gambia's golden shore,
Whose arm the band of warriors led,
Perhaps the lord of boundless power,
By whom the foodless poor were fed..

4: Does not the voice of reason cry,
“ Claim the first right which nature gave;
From the red scourge of bondage fly,
Nor deign to live a burden’d Slave ?

5: Has not his suff'ring offspring clung
Desponding round his fetter'd knee,
On his worn shoulder weeping hung,
And urg'd one effort to be free!

6. His wife by nameless wrongs subdu'd, His bosom's friend to death-relign'd,



Captured in arms, fighting for his FREEDOM, and inhumanly murdered by his conquerors, in the island of Hispaniola, 1795.


The finty path-way bath'd in blood,
Pour'd tortures on his frantic mind !

7. Stung by despair, he fought the plain,
To heaven uprais'd luis starting eye,
Claim'd freedom from the crushing chain,
Or mid the battle's rage to die.

8. First of his race, he led the band,
Guardlefs of dangers floating round,
Till by his bold, avenging hand,
Full many a despot stain'd the ground.

9. When erst Mefjenia's fons opprefs'd,
Flow desp'rate to the fanguine field,
Viith iron cloth'd each injur'd breast,
And bade the haughty SPARTAN yield ;

Did not the soul, to heaven alli'de,
Feel the full heart as greatly swell,
As when the Roman Cato di’d,
Or when the Grecian victim* fell !

1. If later deeds quick raptures raise,
The boon Batavia's patriots won,
Paoli's time-enduring praise,
Or the far greater WASHINGTON,

12. If these command thy generous zeal,
Who scorn'd a tyrant's mad control,
For bleeding Gambia learn to feel,
Whose Chieftain claim'd a kindred foul.

Oh ! mourn the loft disastrous hour;
Lift the red eye of speechlefs grief,
While numbers throng the fultry shore,
And tear from hope the captive chief.

14. While the hard race of pallid hue,
Unpractis'd in the power to feel,
Resign him to the murd'rous crew,
The horrors of the quiv'ring wheel.

15. Let sorrow bath each blushing cheek ;
Bend piteous o'er the tortur'd flave,
Whose wrongs compassion cannot speak;
Whofe only refuge is the grave.





Mrs. Modisß. INDEED, Mr. Mercury

, I can not have the pleasure of waiting upon you now.

I am en gaged, absolutely engaged.

Mercury. I know you have an amiable, affectionate hufband, and several fine children. But you need not be told, that neither conjugal attachments, maternal affections, nor even the care of a kingdom's welfare, can excuse a person who has received a fumnions to the realms of death. If the grim messenger were not as peremptory as unwelcome, Charon would not get a passenger once in a century.

You must be content to leave your husband and family, and pass the Styx.

Mrs. M. I did not mean to infif on any engagements with


husband and children. I never thought myself engaged to them. I had no engagements but such as were common to women in high life. Look at my memorandum, and you will fee I was engaged to the play on Mondays, balls on Tuesdays, routs on Saturdays, and to card assemblies the rest of the week for two months to come ; and it would be the rudest thing in the world not to keep my appointments. If you will stay for me till the fummer season, I will wait on you with all my heart. Perhaps the elysian fields may be lefs detestable than the country in our world. Pray have you a fine theatre, pleasant gardens, and elegant affemblies there? I think I should not dislike drinking the Lethe waters when you have a full season:

Mer. Surely you could not like to drink the waters of oblivion, who have made pleasure the business, end, and aim of your life! It is good to drown cares ; but who would walh away the remembrance of a life of gaiety and pleasure? Mrs. M. Diversion was indeed the businefs of my life

; bat as to pleasure, I have enjoyed none since the novelty of my amusements has worn off. Can one be pleased with seeing the fame thing over and over again ? Late hours and


it very

fatigue gave me the vapors, spoiled the natural cheerfulness of my temper, and even in youth wore away my youthfuf vivacity.

Mer. If this mode of life did not give you pleasure, why did you continue in it? I suppose you did not think

meritorious. Mrs. M. I was too much engaged to think at all. Thus far indeed my manner of life was agreeable enough. My friends always told me diversions were necessary ; and my doctor aífured me disipation was good for my spirits ; my husband insisted that it was not. And you know one loves to oblige one's friends, comply with one's doctor, and contradict one's husband. And, besides, I was ambitious to be thought du bon ton.

Mer.. Bon ton! What is that, madam ? pray define ita

Mrs. M. O Sir, excuse me ; it is one of the privileges of the bon ton never to define or be defined. It is the child and parent of jargon. It is--I can never tell' you what it is; but I will try to tell you what it is not. In conversation it is not wit ; in manners it is not politeness ; in behavior it is not address"; but it is a little like them all. It can only belong to people of a certain rank, who live in a certain manner, with certain persons, and who have not certain virtues, and who have certain vices, and who inhabit a certain part of the town. Now, Sir, I have told you as niuch as I know of it, though I have admired and aimed at it all my life.

Mer. Then, madam, you have wasted your time, faded your beauty, and destroyed your health, for the laudable purposes of contradicting your husband, and being this fomething and this nothing called the bon ton.

Mrs. M. What would you have had me do?'.

Mer. I will follow your own mode of instructing. I will tell you what I wouid not have had you do. I would not have had you facrifice your time, your reason, and your duties, to fashion and folly. I would not have had you neglect your husband's happiness, and your children's education.

Mrs. M. As to the education of my daughters, I fpared no expense. They had a dancing master, mufic inalter, drawing master, and a French governess to teach the politeness and the French language.


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Mer. So their religion, sentiments and manners were to be learned from a dancing master, music master, and a chamber maid! Perhaps they might prepare them to catch the bon ton. Yow daughters must have been so educated as to fit them to be wives without conjugal affection, and mothers without maternal care. I am forry for the fort of life they are commencing, and for that which you have just concluded. Minos is a four old genileman, without the least smatrering of the bon ton, and I am in a fright for you. The best thing I can advise you, is to do in this world as you did in the other; keep harpiness in your view, but never take the road that leads to it.

Remain on this lide Styx; wander about without end or aim ; look into the elysian fields, but never attempt to enter into them, lest Minos should push you into Tartarus. For duties nego lected may bring on a sentence not much left severe than erimes committed.




IHAT you may not be unapprized, foldiers, of what sort of enemies you are about to encounter, or what is to be feared from them, I tell you they are the very fame, whom, in a former war, you vanquished both by land and fia; the fame froin whom you took Sicily and Sardinia ; and who bave been these twenty years your

tributaries. You will not, I presume, march against these men with only that courage with which you are wont to face other enemies ; but with a certain anger and indignation, such as you would feel if


flaves on a sudden rise up in arms against you.

But you have heard, perhaps, that, though they are few in number, they are men of ilout hearts and robuft bodies ; heroes of such strength and vigor as nothing is able to resitt. Mere effigies ; nay, shadows of men! wretches, enaciated with hunger and benumbed with cold ! bruised


3. But

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